#my name is sam novel

[spicyet]

fem!Shuro from that one panel

[wpvg]

Ehehehoohoohoo

[giantkillerjack]

@avinlander

Hello! I've got C-PTSD and I've done a Loooot of acronyms of treatment (CBT, DBT, IOP, EMDR, exposure therapy, etc.), and I agree with the above statement.

My biggest pieces of advice are:

1. As much as you can, before starting trauma treatment, ensure you are in a stable place in other parts of your life.

Often when trauma is directly processed, the stress of doing that can make your mental health more fragile for a time.

(A lot of people are not in a place where they can afford to take this time and space. Which is one of the reasons labor rights are a major mental health issue. It's NOT YOUR FAULT if you are in this position.)

Remember that if you are currently undergoing trauma, treatments like EMDR and exposure therapy (which is basically EMDR but without the back and forth brain stimulus stuff) are risky because they are destabilizing agents, and thus can do more harm than good if you are already on shaky ground.

Now, recognizing you are currently being traumatized is not always possible (trauma naturally seeks to hide itself), but to give an example from my own life:

This past year, my partner was dangerously close to death for months (she's safe now thank fuck), but since no one was abusing me and I've had years of therapy to help me recognize these feelings, I was able to recognize that, even though I had JUST FOUND an EMDR specialist, it was a bad time for me to start actively digging into past trauma because I was currently incurring more trauma.

Instead, I opted for talk therapy that helped me get through all that on a day-to-day level. Even now, as my partner slowly recovers, my life is not stable enough to do something like exposure therapy or EMDR again anytime soon.

AND MORE IMPORTANTLY,

2. No matter what PTSD treatment you seek out, this work will exhaust you.

I mean, PHYSICALLY exhaust you.

I am so fucking serious about this:

In 2019, I attended an Intensive Outpatient Program that involved group trauma processing.

It was an emergency 4-6 week program for suicidal adults.

I was there for 21 weeks.

As it turned out, this was what I needed to finally stabilize after years of spiraling. But it was... an intense 5 months.

In fact, I was there for so long that after a time, the counselors declared I was in charge of welcoming newcomers because I had gotten really good at giving advice to new people.

And the thing I said every single time to every single person was basically:

This will exhaust you. Be gentle.

I would say that if you are anything like me and basically everyone I know with PTSD, you will leave here and think, "all I did today was sit and talk and maybe draw a little - why the fuck am I so tired!?"

If you are like me, then tomorrow, you will wake up, and you will think, "Fuck! Why aren't i getting more done? What is WRONG with me?!" And you will push yourself as hard as you can to get everything you planned on done.

And I tell you now, that any kind of trauma processing will actually physically drain your body of energy.

And because of the nature of trauma and capitalism, you likely won't be praised by many people for the extremely hard and extremely scary (brave) work you are doing. And since, during this time, you will also almost certainly be struggling to do anything considered "productive" by the powers that be, then the shame of this exhaustion - or the sheer denial of it - becomes treacherous.

So please know that this is brave work.

Whatever brings you genuine healing is good and important and you are worth it. And every time you try - whether or not you find the solution that time - that is an act of bravery.

If no one else acknowledges that for you in the way you deserve, then let me acknowledge that here:

This is the work of the giant killers.

This is deep magic.

I'm using flowery language but I'm right.

Here be dragons, adventurer. Some for slaying, some for study. And some for finding where they have been left lying long-forgotten, waiting to finally be held by gentle hands, despite everything. And you are the only one who can do it.

You don't deserve this pain, but you do deserve to be seen in the sunlight. I can't lessen the pain. But I can say there is something terribly heroic about you. And that I see you. Sunlight looks good on you.

I salute you and I desire nothing more than to see us both (and also Mr. Wheaton and anyone who reads this and--gods I do go on don't I?) alive and at peace.

I beg you to screw up every scrap of gentleness towards yourself that you can find. Healing is the opposite of an act of brute force. You deserve your gentleness more than anyone else in the world.

Your exhaustion is not weakness; it is a physical reaction to an impossibly exhausting task. This is going to take some remembering.

Try to take time off work if you can. If you can't, try to at least take the days off after sessions until you know how it affects you. (Ex. I was NOT safe to drive or travel after my first times doing new types of trauma therapy for like 24 hours after. I was so so dissociated. I felt like I had the flu. It also didn't help that my response to my exhaustion was to shame myself and push harder. I learned the hard way. That's why I started always saying this stuff to newbies at the program.)

The exhaustion is not just in your mind and heart but in your muscles and joints, and if you try to respond to that with harshness, you'll make it worse. You need extra rest!

Best of luck and softest of hearts,

- Jack

So I was just formally diagnosed with PTSD (I have depression and anxiety and suspected PTSD for some time) and my therapist has suggested EMDR therapy. I still don’t understand much about it and I was wondering if you have tried it? Or any of your followers have?

I've been doing EMDR for a couple months. Everyone's experience is different, but my experience has been remarkable. It isn't a magic potion that takes it all away, but little by little, I'm working through the roots of my pain, sadness, and trauma, and it's working.

I want to stress that it's not magic, okay? But it's been a positive part of my experience and is currently a significant part of my healing.

Also, as a fellow member of the PTSD club, I'm so sorry. I see you.

[copperbadge]

I’ve messed around with AI a little, because I like to understand a thing when I’m formulating opinions on it and I’ve found the best way to do that is to climb into the thing and start pushing buttons. I’ve been unimpressed with ChatGPT; its fiction chops are oddly saccharine, and of course you can’t trust the nonfiction it spits out because everything it says needs to be fact checked. It claims it can’t “lie”, only misinterpret data from the sets it was trained on; devs call the misinterpreted data “hallucination”.

Part of what I was testing was whether it could competently do my job, so that if my boss starts asking about it, I can give him a decent report. I asked it for biographies of a few wealthy people I’ve researched in the past, and it spat out some respectably generic information that was mostly correct. However, most of the people I research now are not like “so rich I’m famous for it” levels of wealthy, and harder generally for me to find information on, as I assumed it would be for ChatGPT. 

So I thought I’d see what it could do with someone more middle class, and asked it for a biography of Sam Starbuck. 

What it returned was like what you would get if you told me “Write a flattering biography of yourself and don’t worry that I’ll be fact-checking anything you say.” It was mostly true, but it hyped up my achievements as an author in ways that I would consider not entirely honest, and said I was also a professional editor and that I had led prestigious writing workshops in the past. That’s plain untrue, but I can see where it would be making that assumption, because my author bio sounds like a lot of other, more famous peoples’ author bios, and I would guess it just pulled in some of their verbiage for color. 

But the wildest part of the bio was that it named three of the novels I’ve written. Or rather, it named two novels I’ve written and one novel that I definitely have not. It said I was the author of a novel called “Like Clockwork”. Just in case I had written a fanfic titled “Like Clockwork” and forgotten about it, I checked AO3 and also asked ChatGPT for a plot summary of Sam Starbuck’s “Like Clockwork”. And sure enough it hallucinated a multi-paragraph summary of an entire novel I’ve never written, on AO3 or anywhere else. (It was not a good summary. Very Generic YA SF Thriller.) 

ChatGPT is very good at one thing: apologizing. When I pressed it about where it found the data it couldn’t say, when I asked why it had made up the plot summary it couldn’t tell me, when I asked if it could show me source links or data it drew on to create “Like Clockwork” it of course would not. But it always said it was sorry...

Anyway, my best theory from googling is that every year there are roughly nine million news stories about how Starbucks Coffee’s holiday cups are back “like clockwork”. 

I suppose I should be glad the novel’s title isn’t Unicorn Frappucino.

[maleyanderecafe]

Video Game Recommendations

Indie Visual Novels

Solipsism Reigns

Eat your heart Valentine!

My Darling

Home’s Embrace

Don’t Take This Risk

XOXO Blood Droplets

Y.A.N.A.

Infatuation

Yandere Love: Chains of Fate

Sweetest Valentine

Forgive My Sins, Father

You Are My Sunshine

Pulsato Cordis

Picture Perfect Boyfriend

Stuck in a Yandere Visual Novel...HELP!!

ITYH: A Horror Otome

Froot Basket Valentine

Invite Me In

What's Your Name?

Mistrick

Yandere Heaven

Love Me Not

Too Deep In Love

Love Company

Missing

Pocket Lover!

A Portrait of Feathers

Dr. Morgan's Counseling Session

Picture Perfect Romance

Tentador Leches

Colorful Mirai: Spooky Edition

Be My Muse

Froot Basket Dark Chocolate

The Science of Staying Awake

Eat Your Heart Valentine 2

Line 88

Please Don't Hate Christmas

Lucky Day!

House Check

Mushroom Oasis

Yanchat

Karamu

Gentle Fall

Sweet Dreams

Where Winter Crows Go

A Date with Denial

Kimbark Street

Past Hope

The Stranger from the Bus Stop

Love Me Dearly

Akahane Academy

Flowers of Evil

Bleeding Canvas

My Ange

Is it Wrong to want to be Locked up, Toyed with and Tortured by a Hot Guy?

Bittersweet Blythe

Klein v0.1

Rot with Me

Inclement Idee Fixe

Death by Fire

Loser

Dear Devere

Domestic Dread

The Shades of Red

Blood and Lust and Lust for Blood

Eternal Dreamscape

Pretty Boy Panic

Suffocation

Hell Trap

MindMindMind

Channel 453 -Shadows of the Game

RPG/ Other Types of Games

Devil's Gankuran

Saccharine

Desperate Love Feast

Desert Nightmare

Love, Sam

Doom Stones

PC

Ephemeral Fantasy on Dark

[notedchampagne]

What makes a tlt au work for you? Do u have any favourites out there/that you’ve thought of?

its hard because it can go down to the writing! i have a huge bias for things that put focus on the characters acting awful and driving the story forward- if a story has a plot thats great, but its the difference between "gideon and harrow keep meeting up at parties and fall a little bit in love every time" and "gideons angry she lost her childhood to the cult so she attends a party with the tridentarii to shotgun adolescent experiences, and harrowhark, frustrated that gideon is pulling on her metaphorical leash, follows to stalk her". the former retains a 5+1 fic format and is more bite-size, while the latter puts more focus into their growth as characters. im not great at articulating what i like specifically, but ill put my favorite fics below:

what if nona was dogs tugs at my heart: its post-canon, slice-of-life, and has a unique concept (said in the title). i judged a book by its cover because i thought the premise seemed too silly at first but ive been made a fool and its pet clown. it feels so true to nona the way its about all the things nona loves and how she gets to explore the world through new eyes. i love the way it explores characters softening up and getting hurt through a third person pov

we have always lived in the apartment by @thatneoncrisis i keep saying this but for the love of GOD guys this au is so good it makes me cry and feel such a deep catharsis from it. it takes gideon and harrow and the ninth as a cult and explores their struggle to adapt to a modern society when noone ever gets a break (WOW ITS JUST LIKE IN REAL L-). quinn writes the sides of griddlehark i think go overlooked in fanfic often: their codependency, their tendency to lash out when theyre defensive, their mutual paranoia and different coping mechanisms, harrows psychosis and gideons bitterness, their relationships to each other as being the only other person who really understands what the other suffered through. god. i feel lightheaded.

"but SAM, i dont like angst but i want to see this writing!" read gap between a tragedy and a comedy

"SAM, i also like when gideon and harrow are horrible because theyre maladjusted teenagers! but i want more antics where the characters drive things forward over angst!" read whats eating gideon nav

you just aint receiving is one of my FAVORITE modern aus of all time (and i heavily recommend the authors other fics as well!) if you really want to see how much i love this fic the fact that my comments take up the entire phone screen probably says a lot. its hard to put it concisely: it keeps harrows air of misanthropy and cruelty but redefines it as the result of her upbringing and personal struggle to live in a university while dealing with a backpack of mental illness and frustration. it changes gideons personality as the daughter of john gaius in a way that makes sense having her grow up with johns middling parenting skills and getting everything she ever wanted (connecting it back to kirionas personality in ntn!). it brings in side characters (specially palamedes. my beautiful boy palamedes) in ways that compliment harrow and gideon but not so obviously that they only exist to be supports. they have their own lives and ideals. its a modern au that brings in the boiling politics of johns cult uprising once again in a really novel way

semi charmed kinda life by @griddlebait. jesuchristo and all his middle names this fic is GREAT for you if you want a slice of life, coming of age type modern au that explores what its like for gideon and harrow if they actually got the space to see who theyd become outside of the stifling fate tlt has for them. as far as modern aus go im usually very hesitant to read them because im afraid modernizing the characters takes features away from their core but i really love and respect the way the author treats the 69ers with care and draws distinct lines that shows me how their grow and change while keeping a line to the anchor. also they write HIDEOUS (complimentary) PINING. DISGUSTING. some of these chapters were so chock full of dyke drama that they made me nauseous and whimsical. i think once a friend said this fic felt like if gh could be reincarnated and i like that descriptor a lot

til the cows come home is another postcanon fic that made me feel sick and crybabyish about it- i would definitely recommend it if you want to explore a happier ending with griddlehark! with this and what if nona was dogs the thing i like most about them is that they mix up vulnerability with pain and fear, so it feels more lifelike that way if that makes sense. i lost my taste in fluff fics over time but when its interspersed with struggle and characters causing problems because they cant cope with themselves it feels much more earnest and raw

this became very long. im not sorry

[specialagentartemis]

tell me more about classic filk i know a few songs but never got deep into it

Heck YEAH

"Filk" is music (often but not always folk music-style, often but not always song parodies to the tune of famous pre-existing songs) about sci-fi, fantasy, and other fannish topics. Filk circles are popular events at science fiction conventions, and that's really where the genre started. The word "filk" actually arose from a typo in a convention program once, and people just rolled with it ever since!

Some of the most iconic albums in the filk world are the anthology albums "Minus Ten And Counting" (songs about space exploration and the real-life space program), "Carmen Miranda's Ghost" (songs about sci-fi space shenanigans and space ghosts), and "Finity's End: Songs of the Station Trade" (songs set in the world of CJ Cherryh's Alliance-Union novels, and my personal favorite. I've never read any of CJ Cherryh's books, but these songs paint such a vivid world.) "Space Heroes and Other Fools" is another big one, it's more hit-or-miss for me but it's iconic. Other really good and foundational ones are "Divine Intervention" by Julia Ecklar, "Avalon is Risen" by Leslie Fish, and "We Are Who We Are" by Vixy & Tony.

I lean more towards sci-fi and space than fantasy, but fantasy and paganism are huuuugely popular filk topics too.

Some of the most popular names to look into include Leslie Fish (intensely prolific, barely a fraction of her work is on any streaming or music service), Julia Ecklar (famous for her "ose," the filk-world word for sad songs - because they're "ose, more-ose, and even more-ose), Juanita Coulson, Kristoph Klover, Vic Tyler (who just recently died :( rest in peace), Duane Elms, Kathy Mar, Bob Kanefsky, Alexander James (trans, with lots of filk under his previous name as well), Vixy & Tony, and Seanan McGuire. (I like Seanan McGuire's filk music better than her books, hah.) Some other great ones include Cat Faber (most acapella), Astrisoni, The PDX Broadsides, Kari Maaren, and Sassafrass (also mostly acapella. Includes Ada Palmer). Heather Dale, Tom Lehrer, and Jonathan Coulton are kind of honorary filkers too haha.

The best place to get the ones from 80s and 90s cassettes are on the Internet Archive or Youtube; a few filkers who are more currently active have their stuff on Bandcamp.

And I'll leave you with a few of my Favorite Ever filk songs:

"Sam Jones" by CJ Cherryh and Leslie Fish

"Pushin' the Speed of Light" by Julia Ecklar and Anne Prather

"Chickasaw Mountain" by Leslie Fish

"Fire in the Sky" by Jordan Kare

"The Phoenix" by Julia Ecklar

"Freedom of the Snow" by Leslie Fish

"Burn it Down" by Vixy & Tony

"Hope Eyrie" by Leslie Fish, or this Minus Ten And Counting version

"Rocket Rider's Prayer" by Kristoph Klover, Ernie Mansfield, and Cecilia Eng

"Dawson's Christian" by Duane Elms, performed by Vic Tyler or Vixy & Tony

"Somebody Will" by Sassafrass

"Chances & Choices & Fortunes & Fates" by Astrisoni

... my tastes lean sentimental and ose but I swear there's a lot of very funny filk out there too

"Never Set the Cat on Fire" by Frank Hayes (a famous one)

"Banned From Argo" by Leslie Fish (an INFAMOUS one)

"Don't Push That Button" by Duane Elms and Larry Warner

"No More SF Cons" by Juanita Coulson

"One More Ose Song" by B. J. Willinger

everything Bob Kanefsky writes

[darsynia]

New (Nomad Steve/Nurse!Reader)

MCU MASTERLIST | STEVE ROGERS MASTERLIST | Ro Roll

Summary: As soon as two weeks ago he’d have said that keeping to himself was the easiest part of his life right now… but that was before he met you.

Word Count/Warnings: 2,400 | None

As 1/7 of my Birthday fics for @ronearoundblindly, NEw is a first kiss hurt/comfort fic about writing your own happy endings. It's a hugely busy week for you and there's no pressure to respond right now, they'll all be here when you have time!

Excerpt:

Lately it feels like exhaustion is your religion. Stay up way too late, stumble home confused and euphoric and try to will yourself to sleep, then wake up and perform miracles to get yourself back to the hospital for your shift. You’ve always been a night owl, but your shift supervisor practically considers you the ward’s brand ambassador, and to keep the peace, you agreed to stay on the day shift. You’d gotten the schedule down to a science, right up until a tall, gorgeous complication started to jog at the track after hours.

The name he’d given feels fake, but nothing else about him does, and you know all about needing to distance yourself from the horrible things you’ve seen at work. You suspect he was a soldier until he got out, and after that probably a firefighter, but you’ve never asked. Mostly, you just try to keep up with him. The sum total of the words you’ve spoken to each other probably wouldn’t make for a single meet-cute in a romance novel, but they feel consequential enough to you.

NEW

It takes Steve a painful amount of time to adjust to hiding.

It isn’t just that he’s recognizable, it’s that he’s always stood out, always. As a small baby he’d been gasped over by strangers, as a sickly child he’d see concern and aversion in their eyes, and once he’d grown into a scrawny adult, those reactions had just intensified. 

Some accused him of making himself sick to avoid the war, as though he could have secretly known it was coming and starved himself into stunted growth just in case. For some, it didn’t matter what he looked like-- any man who wasn’t at war was fair game for ridicule. Even those who didn’t care either way found his presence unnerving simply because men his age were scarce. He reminded them of the people they missed, the people who didn’t have the ‘protection’ of being physically unable to join up. 

If his life was a narrative, he’d be the best protagonist he could be.

Even so, there was a special kind of hell in wanting so desperately to fight for justice and be told how lucky you were to be disallowed. Back then, it had been important to him not to hide. There were certainly others in the same boat as he was, men who needed groceries, to watch the news in the theater, to have a walk in the fresh air. So he went out anyway. He was the example, the target, the archetype.

Once he had the serum, hiding meant all the hard work by Doctor Erskine and Howard Stark would be for nothing, so he didn’t. Even in tights.

The symbolism was even stronger when he came out of the ice. Now, people look to him as a lodestar meant to bring them all back to decency and safety, and he wants to, but with action, not iconography, no matter how potent. 

That hadn’t been enough, and now they’re here.

“You’ve been tying your shoes for five minutes, man. You okay?”

“Yeah, yeah. Thanks, Sam.” Steve finishes up quickly and straightens. “Daydreaming, I guess.”

Sam leans over and looks out through the thin rectangle of night sky visible through the thick curtains. “At this point I think you can just call it dreaming. Stay safe out there.”

Steve watches Sam head off into the kitchen before he slips out of the apartment door and locks it behind him. He and Sam keep nocturnal schedules, but Natasha’s expert-level camouflage skills have netted her a day job that keeps them all afloat. Their plan of moving from community to community taking seasonal jobs has worked well so far. 

This is the most ‘domestic’ of their locations to date; they’re spending the lead-up to Christmas in a small city in the midwest full of people who know how to keep their heads down and get things done. No one’s expecting a trio of superheroes to settle in a satellite town whose main attraction is a vintage bowling alley, but there are other calculations to consider. People make eye contact here. They bring their real selves to the conversation, and Steve’s been struggling with some real guilt about that. 

As soon as two weeks ago he’d have said that keeping to himself was the easiest part of his life right now… but that was before he’d met you.

Lately it feels like exhaustion is your religion. Stay up way too late, stumble home confused and euphoric and try to will yourself to sleep, then wake up and perform miracles to get yourself back to the hospital for your shift. You’ve always been a night owl, but your shift supervisor practically considers you the ward’s brand ambassador, and to keep the peace, you agreed to stay on the day shift. You’d gotten the schedule down to a science, right up until a tall, gorgeous complication started to jog at the track after hours.

The name he’d given feels fake, but nothing else about him does, and you know all about needing to distance yourself from the horrible things you’ve seen at work. You suspect he was a soldier until he got out, and after that probably a firefighter, but you’ve never asked. Mostly, you just try to keep up with him. The sum total of the words you’ve spoken to each other probably wouldn’t make for a single meet-cute in a romance novel, but they feel consequential enough to you.

As it has for the past week, your heart starts racing when you get close to the track. The problem is, you were run ragged today, and you feel just like the mermaid from the original fairy tale. Every single step is like knives stabbing the balls of your feet, and your arches are singing ‘fuck you’ so loudly you expect Ursula to show up any minute.

You stop on the bench right inside the gate to let the burning pain subside a bit. The last thing you want is for your burly new crush to think you’re a lightweight, not now that the months of forcing yourself to run after work have paid off so nicely with… well, him.  

Besides Frank, the school’s night security officer and all-around nicest tough-guy in town, there isn’t anyone else visible on the brightly-lit track. You take the opportunity to cross your ankle over your knee and reach for your shoe in preparation to swap it with the sneakers in your bag. These are a new pair, and you’d planned on wearing them every few days to break them in. As soon as you get your heel off you understand just how much you screwed up by not bringing  the others in to swap into once you realized how go-go-go your day would be. The swelling is bad, and the beginnings of blisters sting in various places. There’s no way in hell you can jog today, and walking home is going to be excruciating. It’s a god-damned miracle you have the day off tomorrow.

“I don’t know what I was thinking,” you mutter under your breath. The John F. Kennedy High School campus is the same distance from the bus stop as your apartment is, but in the opposite direction. Your feet had already been screaming, why hadn’t you gone home instead?”

“Thought you weren’t coming!”

Your crush’s voice cuts through the late November chill, warming your heart. You look up and see him crossing from under the bleachers, his hands stuffed into the pockets of his hoodie. He’s far enough away that you let yourself sigh, half in addlepated pleasure in seeing him, half in utter frustration at yourself. He’s the reason you came, of course. You’d walk across fire to spend time with this guy, and by the time you head home, that’s definitely what it’ll feel like.

“Sorry, long day,” you tell him once he’s close enough. 

Hurrying, you yank off your second shoe and nearly swallow your tongue from the pain. Tears stand in your eyes, exacerbated by the surprise when you look up and your new friend is right there, almost like he'd teleported over. He’s crouched in front of you, and there’s nowhere to hide from his concerned scrutiny.

He confirms your assessment of ex-military by the professional once-over he’s doing, even more so when he takes your shoe out of your weary hand and tests the bend of its sole with a practiced hand.

“Don’t say it--”

“These are not very good shoes,” he pronounces. With a move as graceful as a ballet dancer, he shifts onto the bench beside you, still examining the shoe. You snag it from his hand and tuck it into your backpack with its mate, pulling out your tennis shoes before zipping back up.

There’s no chance you’ll be able to put them on, but, one thing at a time.

“You’re right. I didn’t expect to be the runner on the ward today, but we were shorthanded.” You wince at your feet, both of which are looking decidedly puffy. Shit, will either pair of shoes fit, at this point? “There’s a ‘best foot forward’ joke I could be making about hoping you’d be here running tonight, but honestly, I’m too wiped out to make it.” You look over as you finish speaking and catch his pleased reaction. It’s understated, but it’s there, enough to make you brave. “I have the day off tomorrow, maybe I can give you a twelve hour rain check? I bet you’re even more handsome in sunlight.”

To your dismay, his face falls and he looks down. You turn your head away, unwilling to see the evidence of just how badly you’d gauged this. He’s very clearly not interested.

“Or not! ‘Not’ is also okay, sorry about that, I--”

The words dissolve on your tongue at the gentle touch of his knuckle on your chin, turning your face back toward his in the time-honored tradition of romantic male leads.

“Please don’t-- Running with you has been-- Believe me, during the day-- I would like to, I just can’t.” Disappointment is etched across his handsome features, but more than that, you can see the way his mind is racing just like yours had just seconds ago. The man looks like he’s desperate to rewind to a moment that doesn’t feel like this.

There’s a remedy to that, and after a day of doing your best to fix everything and everyone around you, it feels like the most natural thing in the world to surge up and touch your lips to his. 

You meant to pull back right away, mirroring that thing where a couple knows each other so well that gentle brush is all that’s needed-- but your midnight warrior is still in the middle of the book. His large hand shifts to cup your cheek, holding you still for his head tip where he deepens the kiss and scrambles your brain. It’s impulsive, desperate, and honest. You grab at his clothing, needing to believe this is real, even as the two of you follow kisses with more kisses like you’re saying goodbye in an airport.

“Doesn’t look much like you’re runnin’!” the security guard calls out, his words so distant they almost don’t register at first.

That ends things abruptly, but the two of you don’t move much farther apart than a few inches, his hand still on your face, yours with a handful of his sweatshirt, right over his heart.

“Textbook,” you whisper, flattening your hand out to smooth over his chest. It’s solid muscle under there.

“Oh?” he asks, pulling his hand away swiftly like he’d forgotten how to be a gentleman in his eagerness to touch you. It’s charming as hell.

“This whole operation, it’s right out of the romance novel guidebook,” you praise. “I ought to look for cameras.” A shadow crosses his face, and you suddenly put the pieces together. “Shit, you’re hiding from something, aren’t you? That’s why you freaked out about coming here in the daytime.”

He’s already standing, but instead of stalking away from you, he’s looking around the track, turning in a circle of deep concentration. He’s looking for cameras, but not in a joking way, not as part of a bit.

“The school district would rather spend the money on Frank than cameras, if that’s what you’re looking for,” you murmur, pushing your voice into steadiness out of sheer determination. “The city contributes. It’s been so much safer when everyone who wants a night walk comes here, but there are fewer of us out in the winter months.” The fall chill is actually helping with the pain in your feet, so that's something.

Your mysterious crush is facing you again, apparently satisfied that the two of you aren't being watched by anything more permanent than good old Frank. “I’m sorry,” he says. The words have a horrid finality to them, but you’re focused on his eyebrows. They’re not on board with the rest of his body language. They’re beseeching, rather than resolute, hopeful rather than harsh.

You have one chance to get this right.

“There are some things I love about my coworkers, and let’s be real, a lot of things I don’t-- but do you want to know the thing I like least about working in a hospital?”

Your whole body is practically vibrating with adrenaline, and you realize this is your opportunity to shove on your shoes. As you do that, you refuse to look up at him. The goal is to bring his critical thinking skills back from ‘fight or flight’ mode. Then maybe you can get the two of you on the same page again.

It takes over a minute, but he lets out a long breath and sits down beside you. “Tell me."

“They’re terrible gossips,” you say, looking right at him. He’s not allowed to make the obvious (ruinous, new-relationship-wrecking) conclusion about what you’re saying, not without having to look you in the eye while he does it. “I can’t stand that shit. That’s why they send me on the errands. I’ve got everyone trained to stop talking when I walk by, at this point.”

His relief is visible. “I can respect that.”

“Good.” You set both feet on the ground and decide to test things out by standing. If you’re wobbly, you feel certain he’ll reach out and catch you. “Tomorrow night?”

“Wait,” he says, the picture of confusion. “You’re not-- You think I’m hiding from something and you’re not going to ask about it?” Even in the dim glow of the nearby track light, you can see the clench and release of his jaw.

“For all I know, you’re hiding from your last girlfriend. I know I’d find it hard to give you up, and I’ve known you for what? Two weeks?” Your feet are screaming at you about as loudly as the critical voice in your head, but happiness has made both just distant enough to achieve your goals. 

He shoves his hands into his pockets, which you take to be a good sign. “Would that still be ‘textbook?’ This is all new to me.”

All of the cheeky, sarcastic, and cheesy thoughts that cross your mind would ruin the moment, so you go off script. It’s not the best, but it’s not awful, either.

“New is terrible for work shoes, but it’s lovely when it’s you. See you tomorrow night!”

Stay tuned for more stories in the Ro Roll! Would you like more of these two? Let me know 💚

[theladyofthevarioussorrows]

In honor of Lestat de Lioncourt's 264th birthday, I present to you...

Written in Blood, or the Play in which The Brat Prince Ties the Knot

Part I (of IV)

Fandom: The Vampire Chronicles (Gothic horror novel series, 1976-2018); Anne Rice’s Interview with the Vampire (TV series, 2022-present)

Pairing: Lestat de Lioncourt/fem!reader; Lestat de Lioncourt/You

Word count: 3,900+

Characters: Lestat de Lioncourt (Sam Reid, the best version…­­­the only one that matters, obviously); fem!reader; The Vampire Armand (lol ouch); Nicolas de Lenfent (even bigger ouch, RIP); Santiago; Estelle; Celeste; Eglee; Sam; Gustav; Quang Pham; pretty much the entire Theatre des Vampires.

Summary: Fem!reader is the newest addition to the Theatre des Vampires, and Lestat becomes smitten with her (of course he does, the little whore!). Lestat’s allure, charm, beauty, and viciousness are not lost on the reader, and she falls for him (I mean, who wouldn’t, let’s be honest). With fem!reader being the freshest member of the Coven, Santiago “initiates” her (similar to how he brought Claudia in) by casting her as Lestat’s co-star in the next play as his love interest. The play, overseen reluctantly by Armand is about a wedding (in the vein of The Taming of the Shrew, As You Like It, or something similar but accurate to the time period, that is the vibe…Lestat, little miss Lady Macbeth himself, “barely Balthazar” Armand, “too old to play Hamlet, too young to play Polonius” Santiago, and I are all Shakespeare girlies, so I thought it would make sense); fem!reader and Lestat are actually getting legally married, unbeknownst to the mortal audience. Fem!reader and Lestat are to be the bride and groom, Santiago is the Justice of the Peace, and the rest of the TDV are the wedding party. While Armand is still the Coven leader, he “directs” the play and Nicki leads the orchestra. Things do not go the way they were planned to go (in Armand’s case); a story of love, sex, and vampire drama unfolds.

Warnings and additional tags: New/eventual relationship, established relationship, smut (P in V), fluff, mention of sex, mention of masturbation, (F and M), oral sex (F and M receiving), all characters (except the reader, duh) are written to be as close to the way they are in the books as well as the show to the best of my ability, reader-insert, reader-interactive, use of Y/N, Lestat gives the reader pet names in French (this is Lestat, after all), mutual pining, flirting, slight voyeurism, slight exhibitionism (is anything Lestat does really a secret? No, not really), blood drinking, blood sucking, bloodletting, biting, gore, violence, murder (feeding on humans is the only instance of this), both Lestat and fem!reader are bisexual, age gap (fem!reader is younger than Lestat by at least a bit but it doesn’t really matter as much because he himself is a new-ish vampire; Lestat would still be somewhere in his thirties in mortal years by the show’s timeline), Lestat is very seductive and persuasive (fem!reader doesn’t need much persuading, so it’s not a bad thing), a bunch of mentions of Shakespeare, lines from As You Like It are in italics and dialogue from vampires using the Mind Gift are in bold italics.

Notes: This story takes place while Lestat is still performing with the Theatre des Vampires and is newly a vampire himself. Magnus is obviously dead by now (thank God). The events of this fic take place after Lestat breaks up with both Nicki (he is still alive at this point in time) and Armand, but before he meets Louis de Pointe du Lac and later Claudia. I don’t have anything against either character (I adore both greatly!), this is just a “what if?” kind of situation. This is a basic idea I had had for literal years ever since I read the books, but I didn’t do anything with it until the second season of the show started, specifically episode 10. I wasn’t immune to Harlequin Lestat, and I was FERAL about it. Sam Reid only made that worse for me (God, I am so in love with him…that man IS Lestat. He doesn’t just play him, he BECAME him, and no one else has come close. Tom Cruise and Stuart Townsend could NEVER!). The premise of the fic came to me while listening to “Written in Blood” by She Wants Revenge…one thing led to another, and here we are! Also, yes, I KNOW the vampires don’t “have sex” in the novels, but they do in the show (a LOT). I might make references to things that have happened in the books (mostly Interview with the Vampire and The Vampire Lestat, possibly a bit of Queen of the Damned) but might not have been shown in the TV series yet, so reader beware of that. Let this be the spoiler warning if you are not familiar with the books or haven’t watched the show. I am completely ignoring both movies, because they mean absolutely nothing to me now that the (far superior) show exists. The piece that fem!reader uses for her audition comes from Shakespeare’s comedy As You Like It…she is reading as Rosalind while disguised as Ganymede, and Lestat reads with her as Orlando. I thought the parallels were a nice touch. I obviously do not own the rights to As You Like It, I merely used the one scene for Y/N’s audition, and to add romantic and dramatic effect. Special shout out to my best friend Riley for their contribution and ideas!

Language: English (except for a handful of pet names and expressions used by Lestat in French, hopefully I did it correctly. I took 4 years of French in high school, but I am not fluent)

_________________________________________

It was a cool autumn night in Paris, and while mortals slept, the undead were busy welcoming their newest member to their coven inside the old auditorium. The Vampire Armand stood proudly in front of the stage, looking up at the Theatre’s founder and poster child Lestat de Lioncourt, giving him notes and stage directions he knows full well Lestat will not listen to. Next to Lestat was Y/F/N Y/L/N, a freshly turned vampire herself.

Today was Y/N’s audition to join the Theatre des Vampires, and although nervous, she felt at home already among the other thespians in the room with her. With her lifelong love of theatre and literature that only intensified in her newly immortal life, Y/N knew she was in good company. She caught herself stealing glances at Lestat, as if against her will, but she knew she couldn’t help herself. Of all the vampires in this room—the stage director and Coven leader Armand, fellow company members Eglee, Celeste, Estelle, Sam, Gustav, and Quang Pham in the seats, as well as the gifted violinist Nicki hiding in the wings—there is something captivating and enchanting about this charismatic blonde actor. Y/N felt immediately attracted to this man, and she was both alarmed by and pleased with this sudden revelation. Lestat could feel Y/N’s attraction to him, something he found adorable, endearing, distracting, and quite arousing. Lestat gazed at her, a charmingly wicked smile on his face as he admired the young vampire in front of him. Armand, annoyed but pushing the uneasy feeling down, turned to look at Y/N.

“Welcome to the Theatre, dear Y/N. The Coven and I are interested as to how you found yourself in Paris, and how you found us. Please, enlighten everyone,” Armand said, with a slight air of both curiosity and mild arrogance rolled together. Y/N quickly moved her glance from Lestat to Armand and shivered slightly before she answered.

“Hello all, my name is Y/F/N Y/L/N, and I was visiting when I was given the Dark Gift. I have been in Paris ever since. I heard about the Theatre through my maker, and through discovering the Theatre, I found out about the Coven.” As she told the truth, she felt Santiago staring daggers at her, full of amusement.

“So, little miss Y/L/N, it seems as though you enjoy the arts, is that right?” said Santiago, with a slithery snark. Y/N nodded her head. “A birdie told me that you’re auditioning with one of Shakespeare’s lesser works, yes?” Y/N nodded again. Lestat’s blueish violet eyes widened as he grinned a little bigger.

“Yes, I will be reading as Rosalind disguised as Ganymede. I hope you find it suitable,” she said politely, trying to stifle a small tinge of laughter. Santiago exaggerated his giggle to mock her slightly before speaking again.

“Hmm, I assume you would like to have someone read with you. I wonder who that could be…” Santiago’s voice trailed off as he shifted his glance from Y/N to the left of her.

The slender, blonde, and devilishly handsome vampire beside Y/N spoke before she could even have the thought to respond. Watching from the wings, the violinist Nicki put a hand to his forehead with a quiet groan.

“I volunteer myself. I know the play by heart,” said Lestat. He shot Y/N a soft but sly grin as he placed his hand on his chest, reeling in the blush that appeared on her face. Armand had to hold back a scoff as Lestat offered to read with her. “I’m quite curious to see how she does, if I may.” Lestat gently bowed as he spoke to her, with a smile on his face and intrigue in his heart. Lestat was many things, and subtle was not one of them. Y/N nodded, smiling slyly back at him.

“You may,” Y/N said, bowing slightly. Her cheeks cast a rosy glow upon them as she smiled. Santiago chuckled to himself, and Armand choked down another scoff as he looked back to Y/N and Lestat.

“As you wish. Lestat, you will read with Y/N as Orlando, starting from his entrance after Jaques exits the scene. Y/N, you will follow.” Armand crossed his arms over his chest as he watched the two vampires in front of him on the stage.

“Yes, maître,” said Y/N, slightly nervous but strangely excited about reading alongside this hauntingly tempting creature next to her. She got herself into character quickly, trying to fight off the thought of how sweet Lestat’s blood might taste on her tongue and how soft his full lips must be, among various other salacious and primal things that she wasn’t aware of that she needed or wanted. It wasn’t an unwelcome thing—Lestat had something disarmingly attractive about him. Y/N felt drawn to him somehow, but she tried in vain to hide it. Lestat cleared his throat and prepared himself as well, his own pale skin turning a faint pink as they moved to the middle of the stage. Butterflies fluttered inside their bodies as they began their scene. After a few seconds of silence passed, Lestat launched into character.

“My fair Rosalind, I come within an hour of my promise.” Lestat said, remembering the lines from memory as if it was nothing out of the ordinary. Despite her nervousness and giddiness, Y/N began herself.

“Break an hour’s promise in love? He that will divide a minute into a thousand parts and break but a part of the thousand part of a minute in the affairs of love, it may be said of him that Cupid hath clapped him o’ th’ shoulder, but I’ll warrant him heart-whole.” Y/N matched Lestat’s intensity and focus as she spoke her lines. Astonished by her delivery, he carried on with his own lines.

“Pardon me, dear Rosalind,” continued Lestat, feeling a rush of adrenaline in the pit of his stomach, the pleasant sensation only growing stronger as she went on. Lestat watched her as she moved effortlessly through her audition, overcome with awe, very nearly stumbling on his own lines as a result. Armand and Santiago watched from the bottom of the stage as Y/N and Lestat kept going.

Armand watched from the front row and noticed Lestat’s immediate and oddly natural chemistry with Y/N and was well aware of the subtle attraction and quiet infatuation she felt towards Lestat. Armand could feel it through her, and it bothered him. He couldn’t help it; he began to feel his face turn green with envy. Santiago, however, was greatly amused at what was unfolding in front of them—and he relished the drama of it all. The rest of the Coven watched from the seats intently, some engrossed, some unbothered. Nicki leaned up against the wall backstage, a pained expression etched on his features. Looking on at his former lover floating across the stage with a woman whom he had only met mere hours ago and watching her fall under his spell just as he had, Nicki shook his head, a grimace forming on his face.

With all due respect, maître…maybe we should keep an eye on the new one, said Santiago, filling Armand’s head with his thoughts without moving his mouth. It’s only a matter of time before our dear founder tries to take her to bed with him…you know as well as I do how he is. And seeing how she’s looking at him—Armand did not want to hear this. Lestat and Y/N were too immersed in their scene and lost in each other to hear them through their own minds.

Armand cut him off. Enough, Santiago. I know very well how Lestat operates. Let them finish. I’ll allow Y/N to continue, for now. We shall decide what measures to take when the time is right… As Armand and Santiago sized Y/N up, she breezed through her audition.

“Come, woo me, woo me, for now I am in a holiday humor, and like enough to consent. What would you say to me now an I were your very, very Rosalind?” Y/N continued as she blushed and smiled at Lestat. Anything he did in his impromptu performance, she followed with masterful skill.

Lestat slowly walked closer to her, his gaze never leaving her eyes. Lestat looked at Y/N, smirking as he brushed some of his long blonde hair behind his ear. He let the silence expand for a second before he continued.

“I would kiss before I spoke.”

Lestat and Y/N gazed at each other as if they were the only beings in the room, amusing Santiago morbidly and annoying Armand profoundly. A mixture of admiration and a deep hunger formed inside Lestat’s chest, and Y/N’s heart pounded against her ribcage. She gulped quietly as she tried to keep up with Lestat. Determined to give the best audition she could despite having to act opposite the most gorgeous creature she has ever laid her eyes on, alive or dead, Y/N tried to fight off her own desire building within her. Soft gasps could be heard from the other vampires watching them from the seats.

“Nay, you were better speak first, and when you were gravelled for lack of matter, you might take occasion to kiss. Very good orators, when they are out, they will spit; and for lovers lacking—God warn us—matter, the cleanliest shift is to kiss.”

Sensing Y/N’s struggle to maintain her composure, Lestat met her energy with his own words. “How if the kiss be denied?” He looked at her for a beat, cocking his head to one side quizzically. Y/N answered him with a playful shrug.

“Then she puts you to entreaty, and there begins new matter.”

Lestat continued his teasing, delighted by the thrill Y/N gave him. “Who could be out, being before his beloved mistress?”

Y/N pretended to scoff. “Marry, that should you if I were your mistress, or I should think my honesty ranker than my wit.”

Lestat looked at Y/N with a look of mock surprise. “What, of my suit?” he said, his voice harboring a more sensual tone this time.

“Not out of your apparel, and yet out of your suit. Am I not your Rosalind?” Y/N floated across the stage like a ghost, every single movement calculated and carried out so smoothly.

“I take some joy to say you are because I would be talking of her.” Lestat’s face reddened slightly as he noticed how Y/N’s jaw dropped, but only for a second before she kept going.

“Well, in her person I say I will not have you.” Y/N let out an exaggerated giggle as she playfully spun around slowly.

A dramatic sigh escaped Lestat’s lungs. “Then in mine own person I die.” He looked back at Y/N as she turned to face him again.

“By this hand, it will not kill a fly. But come; now I will be your Rosalind in a more coming-on disposition, and ask me what you will, I will grant it.” Y/N gazed at the vampire in front of her, only inches separating them now. Lestat reached out to gently caress Y/N’s cheek as they looked deeply into each other’s eyes, making her blush even more obvious in her face now. He has her right where he wants her, and as fate or some other mystical thing would have it, Y/N is right where she wants to be. Once again, Lestat drew the silence out for a beat too long before he spoke.

“Then love me, Rosalind.”

Y/N’s voice trembled a little as she leaned into Lestat’s touch. His unbroken focus on her made her feel slightly faint just from the way he looked at her, but she kept her cool as best as she could. “Yes, faith, will I, Fridays and Saturdays and all.” She shyly smiled up at him, trying and failing to hide her quiet swooning.

Lestat hung on to every word that left her lips as if he had never heard such language spoken before. Of course, he was no stranger to the stage himself, having been the Theatre’s main selling point for a few years now. The act of performing on a stage in front of an enamored audience always thrilled him, but she…she was different. This new and sudden but pleasant feeling cut him way deeper, hit him harder—he knew that she was something magical. And Lestat wasn’t quite sure where to put that desire and hunger, so he decided to do the thing he does best: he needed to have her all to himself, by any means necessary. Lestat was delighted to find that the feeling was so clearly mutual.

Santiago watched Lestat enchant Y/N as they continued with their performances. He gasped quietly as he saw Lestat become smitten with Y/N, rolling his eyes. Just look at those two! Can you believe them? They’ve made eyes at each other from the second she came through the door. They’ve only just met a few hours ago and he’s looking at her like Venus de Milo herself…and she looks as if she’s about to melt through the floor. Armand found himself becoming more and more annoyed as Lestat and Y/N carried on like they were, and Santiago took notice. Maître, you’re grinding your teeth…

Armand huffed quietly. I said let them continue. Y/N is smarter than we realize. If she doesn’t know who she’s getting herself tied up with, she will. I can guarantee that. Armand maintained his mildly annoyed expression as he crossed his arms over his chest. I see potential in her. We can use that potential.

Santiago, ever the drama queen but also the suck-up, tried to push Armand’s buttons. How shall we do that, maître? I wonder what our violinist has to say about this…I can’t imagine he’s especially thrilled about—

Armand cut him off once again. Be silent now, Santiago. Nicki is the least of my worries right now.

Now mildly aware of the growing discomfort in the pit of Armand’s stomach and Santiago’s antagonizing of him, Lestat continued to read with Y/N. He was enraptured by her, this was true—but he also found quite a bit of amusement in making Armand uncomfortable. Y/N, less aware of the effect her performance is having on the Coven leader and his all-too-willing sidekick, matched him masterfully.

“And wilt thou have me?” said Lestat, sultry and low.

Y/N nodded her head and smiled. “Ay, and twenty such.”

Lestat felt his heart flutter in his chest as he moved closer to her. “What sayest thou?”

Y/N gently bit her lip then let it go with a smirk. “Are you not good?”

“I hope so.” Lestat rolled his eyes in a sassy manner.

“Why then, can one desire too much of a good thing?” Y/N went on, closing the small space between herself and Lestat.

The vaguely pained expression did not escape Armand’s face. Still wanting to maintain some sort of order and power over his Coven, Armand kept his focus fixed on the two vampires on the stage in front of him.

Santiago, an evil grin taking shape over his features, watched Lestat and Y/N’s bond become deeper by the second as Y/N continued. “Come, sister, you shall be the priest and marry us. Give me your hand, Orlando.” Y/N gently reached for Lestat’s hand, and he placed it in hers, tangling their fingers together. She looked to where the audience would be sitting. “What do you say sister?” Y/N looked back up at Lestat as he gazed back at her, their vampire eyes blown out with love and desire for each other.

After what felt like an eternity, Lestat put his finger under Y/N’s chin and gingerly tilted her head up. He started to move down to press his lips to hers, and she moved up to meet him. He closed his eyes, and her eyelids fluttered shut as his lips gently—

A groan could be heard from Armand as Santiago abruptly rose from his seat and applauded loudly. Lestat and Y/N snapped out of their trance and pulled away from each other, no longer able to hide their blushing. The rest of the Coven began to applaud as well. The vampires Sam and Gustav were enthusiastic in their encouragement of the new potential member of the Coven and her undeniable and palpable chemistry with their Theatre’s founder. Celeste looked on with a proud smile on her face, while Estelle clapped wildly. Eglee rolled her eyes before eventually joining in with her applause. Backstage, Nicki shook his head again as he quietly left the auditorium, quietly cursing under his breath.

“Very well done, Y/N. Very well done indeed,” said Santiago, sounding giddier than he probably should. He looked at Armand. “What say you, maître?” he asked with mock amusement.

Armand once again did not listen. He looked up at Y/N as Lestat released her from his gentle but bold embrace. “Exquisite work, Y/N. Exceptional. While we evaluate your performance, you are welcome to remain here with the Coven. We have provided a coffin for you near your maker’s.” Armand started to dismiss everyone before he turned back to Y/N. “We do expect you to keep our hours, curfew is three o’clock sharp.” He shot a subtle but menacing glare at Lestat. Lestat rolled his eyes and chuckled to himself as he turned his back to him. Armand looked at Y/N again. Lestat smiled warmly at Y/N as he winked at her.

Still reeling from everything that just occurred, Y/N nodded and bowed. “Yes maître, I will. Thank you all.” Armand dismissed Santiago and the rest of the Coven, and they all left the auditorium.

It was then that Y/N heard a sensual and seductive voice inside her head.

Très bien fait, ma chérie. I’m impressed.

Y/N turned around to find Lestat leaning against the piano on the stage, his arms crossed over his chest, looking her up and down, dripping with genuine curiosity and insatiable desire. She blushed and smiled as she met his gaze.

“That’s very sweet of you to say, Lestat. It really means a lot to hear.” Y/N walked over to him, slightly nervous but not at all deterred. “You were amazing yourself.”

Lestat rolled his eyes playfully at her compliment but accepted it. “You flatter me, mon amour.” He stood up straight and walked over to her, looking down at her with that softly sly smirk again. “I must say, my dear Y/N, you are quite the actress. Many have come and gone from this theatre, but none have bewitched me so like you have, ma petite fleur.”

Y/N swooned at his words, slightly taken aback by the sincerity in them despite the obvious attraction. “Oh, you’re too kind. It’s not often I’m in the presence of someone so…” She caught herself getting lost in his eyes again—something she has by now realized is very easy to do—before she continued. “So…enchanting as you.”

Lestat chuckled lowly. “Is that so? Well, you have captivated me too, love,” he said, pausing briefly as he took the sight of her in. “I haven’t seen such talent on this stage in quite some time, Y/N.” She blushed deeper as she took a second to gather her thoughts. Y/N sighed softly before speaking.

“Thank you! I’m just happy that I can finally do what I love to do. Up until today, I thought it was unfortunate that I couldn’t do this kind of thing when I was mortal, but I don’t have that feeling now that I’m here. In an odd way, it feels right like this.” Y/N chuckled lightly.

Lestat listened to her words intently. “I know that feeling very well, mon coeur. For what it’s worth, I’m quite glad you wandered into our midst. I can see already that you’re passionate about the Theatre, and it’s refreshing. You’re simply lovely.” Y/N smiled at his words of admiration and encouragement. “I cannot wait to see what other talents you possess, if you don’t mind my saying so,” he said with a smirk, appreciating the slight drop of her jaw. Noticing the positive tension on her face, Lestat spoke gently to her. “Oh, and don’t be nervous, chérie. There is nothing to be afraid of. I have no doubt you’ll fit in here, I am sure of it.” He traced her jawline affectionately before tilting her head up to bring her eyes to meet his, just like he did during her audition. “And, if I may be so bold, I would love to get to know you better. If you’ll have me, of course.” Y/N’s eyes widened as she swooned. She nodded as she stuttered slightly.

“I’d love to, Lestat. I would be honored.” Y/N felt her heart jump into her mouth. The gorgeous blonde vampire in front of her reveled in how flustered she looked as he spoke to her.

“Very well then, dear Y/N. We’ll continue our little conversation after your initiation tomorrow.”

Y/N gulped. “My…my what?!”

Lestat giggled slyly. “You heard me correctly, ma chérie. Welcome to the Theatre, darling. You’re one of us now as far as I’m concerned.”

“But…Armand said—” Lestat gently placed a finger over her lips to shut her up as he spoke lowly to her, sultry and dripping with desire.

“Shh, ma jolie fille…never mind what that manipulative gremlin Armand said.” Lestat let his finger gently drag across her bottom lip before letting it go. He brushed some of her hair behind her ear as he continued. “I’ll be seeing you backstage afterwards, yes?”

There was no way for him to be coy about his appetite for her any more than he had earlier. The vampire Lestat de Lioncourt, the Brat Prince himself, was anything but shy about his unquenchable thirst for Y/N; it only grew exponentially in the few hours since he met her.

Y/N felt as though the air had been knocked out of her lungs as she nodded. “Of course, Lestat. You will.” She smiled at him, trying to regulate her breathing.

Lestat smiled wickedly at her again. “Très bien, mon amour. I’ll see you then.” He caressed her face again before turning to walk away. “Bonne nuit, ma belle. Sweet dreams.”

Y/N could feel her heart pounding in her throat as she smiled. “Good night, Lestat. I hope you sleep well.” Blushing, she beamed at him, and he smiled back, a blush of his own on his face.

With that, they left the room. As she lifted the lid to her coffin next to the others to crawl inside it, Y/N gasped as she heard Lestat’s voice in her head again, stopping her momentarily.

Remember what I told you, ma petite fleur. There is nothing to worry your pretty little head with. And know this too, my darling: I don't bite...hard.

[sketalya]

✨The Narrow Gauge & Mr. Percival full ref's ✨

And of course some of my headcanons about them ;3🌹

(This is a little longer than before but I hope you like it :D)

1) Skarloey | 39 y.o | 165 cm

• One of the oldest on the railway, he was like a big brother to all the young narrow gauges.

• Extremely close to Rheneas, always talking about Rheneas everytime he wasn't around.

• Of course besides always talking about Rheneas, he likes to tell a lot of things and sometimes Rusty joins him for that. He's been on the Skarloey railway longer than anyone so he knows all the secrets and stories.

• Likes inviting his friends to drink tea together, sometimes inviting Mr. Percival for that even though he doesn't come often because of his busy schedule. Skarloey also likes to invite Edward just to chat casually and Edward always likes it when he comes to the Skarloey Railway.

• Afraid of thunder and storms but actually he is afraid of loud noises that startle him. He always hide in his room when that happened. He is also afraid of heights.

• People always thought he was wise but Skarloey himself always thought that Rheneas was wiser than him. Whenever he had a problem he would always ask Rheneas for advice.

• Everytimes the young narrow gauges were causing trouble, Skarloey was too tired to deal with it so he mostly told Rheneas about it and Rheneas is the one who will always handle that.

• He also considered Nancy as his best friend and he always allowed her to help him polish his engines.

2) Rheneas | 38 y.o | 165 cm

• Another big brother figure for the young narrow gauge. Always wants the best for the Skarloey Railway so sometimes he can be a little strict about it.

• And because of that, Sir Handel and Peter Sam liked to joke about him acting like a mother. Sometimes he was deliberately called mom by them whenever Rheneas advised them and it always annoyed him.

• Doesn't like it when his name is misspelled. Especially when Duncan and Sir Handel deliberately misspelled his name as "Rhene-ASS". But sometimes he's called "Remy" by Skarloey and he's okay with that.

• Has a pretty tough past and Skarloey is the person he considers his first friend. Doesn't like to talk about it except with Skarloey.

• Swear police number one. Always trying to cover Luke's ears whenever Duncan starts swearing.

• He can become overworked and even get sick because of it. He will really appreciate nap time.

• He never knew he could see ghosts and he always thought it was just a hunch, Rusty was the one who noticed it. Once accidentally saw Rusty talking to Boulder (FYI Boulder in my AU is a giant rock ghost where he will look like an ordinary large rock to the human eye but Rheneas can see its true form just like Rusty)

3) Sir Handel | 27 y.o | 163 cm

• Is the type of person who is unpredictable. Always think that he is the coolest among the others and will say it out loud.

• Wears shoes with wheels that can be lowered whenever he wants to use them. Rheneas and Skarloey always tried to warn him that it was dangerous to wear rollerskates on the railway but he never listened and he always to show it off.

• Always complaining if there is something doesn't go as he expected, it can make him act a bit rude.

• Sometimes makes trouble for his friends because of that, and he will feel sorry for that. (Still cause problems after that)

• Can be very competitive and vindictive.

• He considers Peter Sam as his brother. Peter Sam and Duke sometimes calls him "Falcon".

• When Luke officially joined them, Sir Handel was the one who was most happy about it. (That's because he's no longer the shortest one among them)

• Secretly loves romantic novels and always hopes that he is the main character. He also has a diary book that he keeps very secret.

• The reason why Mr. Percival always prefers to use his bicycle or ask Thomas to take him whenever he needs to go somewhere. (This is quite funny actually, maybe I'll tell you about this another time)

4) Peter Sam | 27 y.o | 170 cm

• The definition of looking like a cinnamon roll that will actually kill you. Always try to act good in front of Skarloey, Rheneas, and Luke but he can be such a troublemaker when he's with Sir Handel and Duncan. (Still a cinnamon roll)

• Whenever he was bothered by Sir Handel, he would always call him "shortie" to shut his mouth. (It works)

• Sometimes called "Stuart" by Sir Handel and Duke.

• Has a scar on his neck because of the trucks incident.

• Always acts like he doesn't like fairy tales or something but actually he likes them and always listens whenever Skarloey and Rusty start telling stories.

• One of the people who has met Proteus besides Rusty. But he forgot about it because Rusty erased his memory about it through his dreams.

• He really likes to eat and he always brings a large bag of food to work. He cooks it himself and doesn't mind sharing it with others. Sometimes brings snacks for Luke.

• Always confused about making decisions for himself so he's the one who always asked Skarloey, Rheneas, and Duke for advice very often.

5) Rusty | 25 y.o (Fake age) | 169 cm

• One of the most reliable on the railway, he can always fix anything so his friends always ask him for help with it and he doesn't mind helping.

• Just like Skarloey, he always likes to tell lots of things and his favorites are horror stories. He likes to scare Duncan and Peter Sam with it.

• He really likes relaxing classical music and sometimes he will borrow Duncan's headphones to listen to some music.

• He wasn't originally human, he was a ghost before and then being given a second chance to become mortal by Lady and Proteus. Narrow Gauge didn't know about this. And of course he can see ghosts.

• Has a special ability given by Lady and Proteus and that is dream control. He can make dreams and make it seem real when people are asleep, actually given this ability to help Lady and Proteus but sometimes he likes to use it for fun.

• Likes to experiment with it by giving dreams to his friends, although sometimes he accidentally gives them nightmares. The first person to know about his abilities was Skarloey but without them knowing, Sir Handel and Peter Sam overheard about it and of course because of that all the narrow gauges knew about his abilities even Mr. Percival. But they all thought it was cool and promised to keep it between themselves.

• At first he was afraid of Boulder's existence but then he got along quite well with it after that incident.

6) Duncan | 25 y.o | 172 cm

• The tallest among the narrow gauge.

• Worse than Sir Handel, he can be really stubborn and rude. Even Skarloey and Rheneas had quite a hard time dealing with his attitude. But somehow Rusty and Mr. Percival are patient enough to deal with it.

• Always acting tough but actually he can be soft without realizing it.

• Afraid of heights and of course ghosts. He really doesn't like it when Rusty deliberately tells him horror stories. He could have nightmares because of that.

• Has many piercings on his face and ears which are considered cool by Sir Handel and Luke.

• Really loves rock and heavy metal songs, always listening to them through the headphones he always carries. But Mr. Percival wouldn't let him use it while he was working because it will make it difficult for him to stay focus and it could cause problems.

• Very close with the twins Patrick and Pansy. Every time Mr. Percival took them both, he would play with them.

• Very adventurous, he will force Rusty to come with him whenever he finds somewhere interesting to explore.

• He liked to take Sir Handel and Peter Sam to race on the rail track with their engines.

• Also another reason why Mr. Percival always prefers to use his bicycle or ask Thomas to take him whenever he needs to go somewhere. (This relates to how unfocused Duncan can be if he has his headphones on while doing something)

7) Duke | 54 y.o | 167 cm

• He was the mentor of Sir Handel and Peter Sam. Highly respected by both of them and has been considered like a father figure to them.

• Even though he was very old, he refused to retire and decided to continue working on the railway.

• Called "Granpuff" by Sir Handel and Peter Sam. In fact he was still called that by other narrow gauges after moving to the Skarloey Railway.

• Always knows how to deal with the mischievous behavior of his two students. He never falls for any of their pranks and may even be the one who always beats them.

• The Duke actually has connections with the Lady and Proteus. When he was declared missing, he was not asleep for a long time but was actually helping Proteus with something and that because of Lady's request. (There's lore I made for this and it's related to my AU so maybe I'll tell you more about it another time)

• He was the one who gave the diary book to Sir Handel and taught Peter Sam how to cook.

• In his spare time, he really likes to ride around the railway and enjoy the beautiful views. It was really calming for him.

• Never take his glasses away from him. His view completely changed to 144p without it.

8) Luke | 22 y.o | 157 cm

• The youngest and also the shortest among the narrow gauges.

• Literally a cinnamon roll. She's so innocent, a little timid, and too kind. He was always treated like a little brother by the others which was quite cute.

• Having a phobia of the ocean, he actually tried to face his fear but was still unsuccessful due to his trauma.

• Whenever he had free time, he would go to the Steamworks to meet Victor, and because of that he became close friends with Kevin as well. Luke also still often meets Thomas and his best friend Millie.

• Has a deer as a pet and will sometimes take it with him to work.

• It's still quite difficult for him to trust people he just met, but it's different with the narrow gauge, he really trusts them with all his heart.

• Luke was very happy when invited to drink tea by Skarloey, take care of his deer with Rheneas, try roller skating with Sir Handel, eat snacks made by Peter Sam, going on an adventure in a dream made by Rusty when he was asleep, doing Rock n Roll with Duncan, listening to many stories from Duke, and even helping Mr. Percival is out of work.

9) Mr. Percival | 34 y.o | 185 cm

(Ok, this one is actually quite difficult for me because I didn't get much information about him either from ttte eps, wikifandom, and tumblr. So all of this is purely my imagination and how I view him. I hope it doesn't sound so ridiculous :D)

• If Duncan is the tallest among the narrow gauge then this man is much taller than Duncan. And that's why he likes to imagine the narrow gauge as 7 dwarfs. (But of course not to Duke because he respects Duke)

• Not like Sir Topham Hatt. Because his age is not much different from narrow gauge and even younger than Duke, Skarloey, and Rheneas. Mr Percival is also seen as a friend by them outside of work. And he really appreciated that.

• When he heard that Rusty could control dreams, he didn't believe it at first and he even challenged Rusty to give him nightmares. And after Rusty actually does it, he regrets his own request and then believes it. (He even asked Rusty not to tell about his dream to the others)

• Just like Duke, never take his glasses away from him. He would literally go blind without it.

• At first he seemed like a strict person but after being with narrow gauge for quite a while, he was actually quite a chill person. He even casually asked Sir Handel and Peter Sam to be in charge while he is away. (Even though he actually knew they would mess up)

• He doesn't have a hobby that he really likes so when he's not busy and bored, he likes to hang out and have fun with the narrow gauge. He thought that they were very random but that was part of the fun.

• Swear police number 2 after Rheneas, he will glare at Duncan when he starts swearing. He would even keep an eye on him when Duncan played with the twins.

• He always keeps his words professional and polite. But he won't hesitate to be sarcastic when he's annoyed or talking to someone he doesn't like.

• Personally, he doesn't really like driving by car and would prefer to use a bicycle. (And that was made worse after the incident that happened when he asked Sir Handel and Duncan to drive his car. Truly the worst decision he ever made)

• This man has a large collection of bicycles at home and even his children are like that because they follow their father. His wife Polly was doesn't surprised by it and couldn't do anything about it.

• He really doesn't like being seen as that stereotypical nerd just because people assume that he looks like that. Once Sir Handel and Duncan said that he looked like an "emo nerd" just because he wore glasses and always wore black. That really triggered him at that time.

• Has a pet dog which he named Perri, but she (the dog) hates him and only likes Mrs. Polly and the kids.

[thisisnotthenerd]

misfits & magic ii stat tracking: episode 1

the spreadsheet, for all to see

it's aabria autumn again, and she's back with with never stop making magic. this series will include both the progressive notes throughout the season as well as my commentary on the mechanics of the system as it's been adapted from KOB and NSBU. the tag is #mismag ii stat tracking, if you want to follow along.

we're just starting out and there's been a ton of fun little details: the pedal pub, tabby (carlos luna), where the characters have been over the last 3 years, the carvings, the orrery, the handles, the new stat trackers with the metal beads, it's all so fun. the art department said yes to carving out the middle of the table this time. i'm waiting for the trackers to do something interactive or have hidden messages or something, like the clipboards did in burrow's end.

this season already feels much more like a traditional fantasy adventure than a school novel. they're traveling, following an esoteric map to the center of a storm, facing old and new foes, human and monster alike. The emphasis is on community and bringing magic to fit the world as it is now, not as it was before the pilot program.

mechanical notes:

all stats have been adapted to have names that start with m:

fight -> melee

brains -> mind

charm -> magnetism

flight -> maneuver

brawn -> matter

grit -> mettle

a secret 7th stat called mark has been added, to cover notice rolls, which no longer fall under mind/brains

magic still exists, and works on a graduated explosion system adapted from nsbu. i'm assuming they get magical artifacts or something of the like when they bounce back down to d4s from d20s.

the common fucking sense die no longer exists, as they are out in the real world instead of whimsical wizard land.

each character has a motive--when they act meaningfully toward or away from that motive, they move along their track. this is adapted from the reputation trackers from acofaf, which came from good society. the progression grants mechanical benefits with significant moves.

the characters start each session with two motes of magic--these replace the adversity tokens. whenever they fail a roll/attempt magic, they add one to the pile, to be used as needed.

each character has a mangle track that tracks the harm to them. death is a possibility, with 6 injury levels that they can take. presumably these come with mechanical penalties as they take injury, i.e. higher costs for magic, higher dcs, etc.

the players got to make some alterations to their stats; they either got more modifiers across the board, or they chose die improvements with fewer modifiers overall. jammer and k lean more towards modifiers while sam and evan changed more of their die values, though the latter two retain their high modifiers in magnetism and melee respectively.

whitney jammer:

teamwork

melee: d10 (+1)

mind: d6 (+1)

magnetism: d6

maneuver: d12 (+2)

matter: d20 (+1)

mettle: d10 (+1)

mark: d4 (+1)

magic: d6

k tanaka:

network

melee: d6 (+1)

mind: d12 (+1)

magnetism: d12 (+1)

maneuver: d10 (+1)

matter: d4 (+2)

mettle: d20 (+2)

mark: d4 (+1)

magic: d4

sam britain:

community

melee: d8 (+1)

mind: d4 (+1)

magnetism: d20 (+3)

maneuver: d20

matter: d6 (+1)

mettle: d12

mark: d6

magic: d4

evan kelmp:

belonging

melee: d20 (+8)

mind: d20 (+2)

magnetism: d4

maneuver: d6

matter: d6 (+1)

mettle: d10

mark: d8

magic: d4

[siriusblacksbxtch]

I'm in love with your dean x male reader smuts- is there any way you could do a pretty extreme dom!dean sub!male reader with any combination (your choice) of the following kinks?: gun play, bondage, choking, knife/blood play, oral fixation, stalking/cnc/kidnapping, religious play, spit sexual fighting (like slapping, punching, etc.) , violence/gore, demon!dean, edging/teasing begging, sub not being able to form words, degrading and praise- and could you include specific terms? like pretty boy, good boy, kitty, slut, bitch, whore, dumb, and easy for the sub and for dean just simple stuff like sir, dean, stuff similar. I'm writing you a book I'm so sorry bjfjd I just have a really hard time finding male reader smut as good as yours that suit my kinks 😭😭 I also love a good sub!dean dom!male reader and the kinks and names I provided earlier would suit a fic like that too!! thank you sm for reading this NOVEL jdjsjs i hope you have a great day- aaaaand if you're not comfortable writing something with such extreme kinks I completely understand, I just thought I'd ask cause I love your work!! xoxo 💞💞💞

A/N: everybody kiss this requester on the mouth I demand it/ I wish I did better but I did what I could! I hope you still like it!

Pairings: Demon!Dean x male!reaader

Warnings: unholy, seriously.

Summary: Demon!Dean had been around for too long, and he looked much too like your boyfriend

You glared across the kitchen at the flannel wearing monster. Oh you hated him. Hated him bad, wearing your beautiful Dean’s face to be an absolute fucking psycho.

Sam had come to terms he’d be sticking around until they found a cure, but you couldn’t stomach it. It made you so goddamned mad.

Like right now in your own home glaring invisible lasers into his head as he sat across from Sam eating food like he was normal.

“(Y/N),” Sam sighed with a conflicted look. “It’s nothing new.”

“Better get used to it, baby boy.” Dean, or not Dean, or whatever— gave you a devilish grin.

“Oh, both of you fuck off. I can’t standing seeing his disgusting ass every second.”

“This disgusting ass can remember some pretty nasty images of you as well.” The demon lowly chuckled as you flushed red, Sam looking down at the table to avoid the conversation.

“Fuck you, psycho.” You rolled your eyes, stomping to your room and slamming the door. You kicked the metal irritably muttering curses under your breath as you pulled off your shirt.

You were hot, nearly feeling as though you were sweating from the interaction. You hated him, god more then you thought you could, walking around with your boyfriends face and just about everything that made him an asshole.

“Let me get this straight—”

“God!” You let out a gasp as you clutched your heart, turning to face the very demon himself.

“Not God,” he smirked. “Just me (Y/N).”

“No shit, what the hell do you want?”

Before you could move for your shirt he stepped closer, walking you back into the wall until your chests were touching.

“What do I want?” Dean laughed, his hot breath hitting your face. “I want to know why you could bend over like a bitch—” His eyes flashed black— “Before I got these babies.”

You swallowed harshly at the words, staring into the abyss of black.

“You used to be so good for me.” He began rubbing at your crotch, you breath hitching in your throat as you tried to look anywhere else.

“You’re not—”

“But I am,” he hissed before you could finish. “I’m still Dean. The Dean who would sleep next to you, fuck you til you cried baby.”

You once again shuttered at the thought, cheeks growing hotter as he continued to palm you through your jeans.

“The one who knows how secretly bad you’ve wanted something like this.”

At that you shoved him back, swinging a fist into his jaw and slamming him into the wall across from you.

He punched you straight back, pushing you onto the bed and swinging his fist again for good measure.

You could taste the blood on your teeth as he grinned down at you, moving his hips down to meet yours as a strangled moan left your lips.

“Quit trying to fight it and be a good boy.”

“Fuck you,” you sighed out.

He backhanded you, grabbing your jaw in a stone clutch, moving so his lips pressed against yours.

“I know how bad you want it, (Y/N). Stop fighting.” With that he pulled back slamming his lips into yours.

You couldn’t help but pull him closer, missing his soft lips and strong build.

As soon as it started it seemed to be over, Dean pulling off your pants and flipping you over before you could even process.

“See how good things go when you’re a good boy?” A strangled gasp left you as his hand slammed down on your ass cheek. He did it once again with enough strength to cause you to move forward. “You just love being my little slut?”

Dean’s low chuckled filled the air along with the sound of his hand coming down on your ass.

“Fuck,” you were struggling not to be a drooling mess at this point, Dean flipping you around again to face him.

“You ready to stop being a little bitch and be a good boy, (Y/N).”

You stared into his black eyes finding what you used to despise all too intriguing as you finally gave a stiff nod.

“No, no,” he chuckled lowly as he ran a hand over your torso. “You are a pretty boy, but your mouth,” he whistled lowly. “We gotta make up for all that ugly talk, baby boy.”

Dean pulled you by your hair, and you let him, shoving you roughly to your knees as he undid his belt.

“Open.” Came the cold voice, much less playful than he had been when he entered your room.

You did so, opening wide as he slid his dick into the back of your throat, a soft sigh escaping as he did so.

“Jesus, slut.” Dean’s moan was like music to your ears, the demon grabbing your hair roughly as he moved you up and down on his dick.

“You act so tough now I get it,” came his devilish laugh, “you’ve been so worked up because I haven’t used you like the dumb whore that you are.”

You moaned around him at this words, his movement suddenly slowing as he pulled you forward and rested his dick down your throat.

“Acting like a whiny bitch when all you wanted was me back in your bed.” Tears and drool began to escape you, struggling to breathe on his dick.

The sight seemed to amuse Dean, you felt his dick growing in your throat as you struggled.

“All you had to not do was be a whiny slut, and instead here you are choking.”

You began to try to pull off, but he held you there a few seconds long before pulling you back into a wet kiss.

“You gonna be a good boy now, (Y/N).”

His black eyes poured into yours and instead of hatred all you felt was desire.

“Yes—”

Dean smacked you hard, pulling you close by the jaw as he bit on your lip and pulled, a hand going to your throat to squeeze roughly.

“Yes, what?”

“Yes, sir.” You breathed shakily. “Please.”

He grinned as he flipped you back onto the bed, hovering over you as your chest rapidly began to rise and fall.

“Please what, pretty boy?”

“Please,” you whined. “Please, fuck me. I’ve wanted it for so long please, Dean.”

His arrogant smile never left his face as he spit into his hand, the other going to squeeze around your neck. Dean shoved his fingers into you, loving the way you squirmed around him, trying to moan but nothing coming out from the force of his hand.

“Cant have Sammy hear us. Can we dumb whore?”

You only tried to moan more as he worked you open, then suddenly without warning he flipped you over and pressed at your entrance.

“You want me to fuck you, baby.”

“Yes sir, please.” You were trembling at this point, wanting nothing more than for him to fuck you into the mattress so hard you couldn’t walk.

“Not very convincing for a needy whore,” he sighed teasingly.

“Please, Dean. I need you to fuck me, please. I need it so bad—”

A low moan escaped you as he suddenly pushed in, grabbing the back of your hair to control his thrusts as he set a fast pace.

Dean’s hand slammed down on your ass once again, a whiny moan escaping you as you felt him stretch you open.

“You gonna be a good boy now, or do I need to remind you who you belong to all the time?”

“A-All the time,” you muttered out between gasps. “Need this all the time.”

Dean laughed grabbing your hips to pull you back even harder as your moans only grew.

“Say you’re my whore,” Dean grunted as his pace began to falter.

“Yours. All yours, Dean. All the time.”

With a final hard thrust, and another smack to your ass, you felt the demon finish deep inside you, as you did on the sheets below.

You were gasping for air, tears of pleasure gathering in the corners of your eyes. You slowly turned to meet Dean, a shit eating grin always seeming to appear on his face.

“What?” You snapped with an angry glare, a flush of embarrassment falling over you.

However, Dean leaned forward pulling you into another warm kiss.

“Been wanting to do that since I got here pretty boy.”

[respectthepetty]

I'm glad Yao Shun Yu's mom was rude to rich man president (Xia Shang Zhou), since rich man president's mom was rude to him in the series!

Anon, this is months late, but I was waiting to give you a fun fact about Shun Yu's mom -

She's the producer of ALL the VBL/Vidol shows, the executive producer of We Best Love 1 & 2 and My Tooth Your Love, and the screenwriter for Unknown.

Her name is Cai Fei Qiao and basically, she is fucking amazing! Also, she acted in (and I believe wrote the screenplays for) ALL of the VBL's series:

The mom in You Are Mine

The ghost in Stay by My Side

The Seventh Fairy (with Dong Yong) in VIP Only

The bumper car worker in Anti Reset

She worked on a 2013 show with Sam Lin, so when We Best Love came up, she personally asked him to join the series because she felt he could convey the emotional range needed for the show (drunk kiss, yes!), and she also played an instructor in that series.

You know the scene!

EDIT: @thisonelikesaliens informed me she played the aunt in My Tooth Your Love, which she produced (woman in black on the right).

And I'm sure she played a role in Unknown since she wrote the screenplay for it based on the novel (and did a damn good job of it), but I haven't been able to spot her . . . yet.

She is also working on a second set of VBL/Vidol series, so I'm sure we are going to see this man again since he has already been in two of her series.

She recently did an interview giving more details about the upcoming series, and someone on Reddit was kind enough to translate some bits, but here is the original Japanese interview for anyone interested.

So, everyone, thank Cai Fei Qiao for bringing us our favorite Taiwanese BLs!

[tiredsmashbros]

🍔 TIREDSMASHBROS INTRODUCTION

ˏˋ°•*⁀➷ W E L C O M E ! ! 🍔🍟🥤

🌿 howdy! my name is tomm + tsb + tired. i use both he/him and they/them pronouns. i'm queer, demiboy + pan + aroace spectrum, and i am an adult, twenty-one ; jan. 10.

🪵 i'm a comic, furry, and multi-fandom artist. i specialize in digital art primarily, minor wood handcrafts, bracelets, or play on my silly harmonica. currently senior year in college.

🌻 i struggle with dyslexia, i apologize in advance for any minor grammar errors! i'm a bit slow responding to responses + mentions so i'd appreciate some patience!

ˏˋ°•*⁀➷ F A N D O M S ! ! 🍔🍟🥤

SHOWS / FILMS 📺; {bold = fixated atm} ↳ my little pony, south park, animaniacs, looney tunes, mickey mouse, ducktales, felix the cat, bluey, total drama island, grojband, danvs, regular show, gravity falls, ninjago, teenage mutant ninja turtles, moomin valley, how to train your dragon, centuarworld, dragon ball, one piece, naruto, fullmetal alchemist, jojo's bizarre adventures, hlvrai, khonjin house, eddsworld, helluva boss, hazbin hotel, lackadaisy, trolls, better call saul/breaking bad, smg4, meta runner, murder drones, fairy oddparents: a new wish, popee the performer, the great gatsby, holes, the sixth sense, kingsman, matilda, beetlejuice, deadpool and wolverine

VIDEO GAMES 🎮 ; {bold = fixated atm} ↳ minecraft, five night at freddy's, cuphead, super mario bros, sonic, undertale, bendy and the ink machine, poppy playtime, baldi's basic, garten of banban, cult of the lamb, friday night funkin, pizza tower, parappa, amanda the adventurer, choo choo charles, epic mickey, rabbits, spyro, rayman, duck season, billie bust up, genshin, wuthering waves, god of war: ragnarok, red dead redemption

NOVELS + COMICS / MANGA 📚 ; { bold = fixated atm} ↳ scott pilgrim, warrior cats, garfield, charlie brown, ganbare nakamura-kun, heartstopper, goosebumps series, mashle, usagi yojimbo, promised neverland, beastars, show-ha shoten, gokurakugai, + above

MISC ; {bold = fixated atm} ↳ dawko, matpat, fuhnaff, coryxkenshin, dashiexp, isaacwhy + the group chat, (yep) the boys, sam and colby, cg5, peso pluma, welcome home, sherlock & co

ˏˋ°•*⁀➷ C O M I C S ! ! 🍔🍟🥤

MARIO COMICS 🍄 ↳ DONE mario and luigi superstars ; sketch comic ↳ NEW !! DONE bowuigi rewritten ; sketch comic SMG4 COMICS 🧢 ↳ DONE smg34: lip bite prologue {part one} ↳ DONE smg34: lip bite : chapter one {part two} ↳ WIP [HAITUS] !! smg34: lip bite : chapter two {part three}

ˏˋ°•*⁀➷ T S B : S M G 4 A U ! ! 🍔🍟🥤

🍔 my smg4 oc, TSB! a yellow, white, blue, burger-loving, cartoon individual with a propeller hat who's beloved for his silly, looney, and mania personality. stick around and attempt to uncover the mysterious lore hidden within this animated maniac! if you want to know more, check out his tags, comics, and spotify playlist !!

#tsb official ↳ all official art and posts made by me #tsb / emmet eggs + #pipedream + #tsari + #tsmg4 ↳ characters + ships #tsb askbox + #tsb theory + #tsb memes ↳ misc content ↳ official tsb reference sheet + official emmet reference sheet

↳ comic tsb: strange, unpredictable, dangerous ↳ comic tsb: smg4, why don't you trust tsb with tari? ↳ comic tsb: outfit change w/ mr. puzzles ↳ fanfic tsb: happy birthday, bluejay [2k] ↳ comic tsb: painting tutorial ↳ NEW !! fanfic tsb: memories part one ↳ NEW !! comic tsb: memories part two

💛 thank you for stopping by, and hope you have a wonderful visit !!

[redactedshapes]

Archiving these answer from this +10 years old AMA

Q: Was the Dark Presence created by Thomas Zane? Sam: The Dark Presence has always been there. Thomas Zane has not.

Q: Why is it an ocean, and not a lake? Sam: It’s bigger than a lake. The lake is just a hole to get to the ocean. It’s boundless, our world is just an island in that ocean.

-

Q: If you could make Alan Wake 2, what would you do differently? Was there anything specific that you learned from Alan Wake 1? Sam: In this line of work, you never stop learning. Each project teaches you a lot. And I hope that each new one is better in some ways than the previous one. For AW2, there would definitely be less dark forests and more gameplay variety.

LESS DARK FORESTS HAHAHA

Q: If you weren't working for Remedy, what studio could you see yourself being a part of? Sam: If you asked my colleague Mikki Rautalahti (an awesome writer), he'd say a dance studio. But the truth is, no studio probably, I'd be writing blogs like This House of Dreams, or novels. That's what I'll do when I retire.

Q: My name is Joshua Lake… Would be sweet to be related to someone as awesome as you Sam: …daddy?

[your-divine-ribs]

Kinktober 🩵 Inside

"We don't have to do anything, we don't even have to move, we could just lie here together. I just wanna be inside ya love, is that okay?"

Words: 1.7k // Sam Fender // cock-warming

Kinktober Masterlist Main Masterlist

The bed dips and you stir, your mind fogged over with sleep, caught in that hazy realm between dreaming and wakefulness. You squint through the darkness at the faintly glowing display on your bedside clock.

4:06 am... ughhh... you have to get up for work in less than three hours.

Your eyes flutter shut again, chasing sleep, elongating your limbs in a restless stretch and going to turn over but something stops you, your body colliding with the warmth of bare skin.

"Sam?" His name sounds thick on your tongue, your voice laden with sleep. Of course it's him, who else would it be? He's just got back from his American tour at this ungodly hour, slipping straight into your bed like he's never been away. Filling that empty space that's been driving you crazy for three whole weeks.

"Am sorry love," he murmurs from behind you and you feel an arm wrap tightly around your waist as he pulls you in closer to the warmth of his bare chest. "Didn't mean to wake ya."

He nuzzles into the crook of your neck, planting a few soft kisses as his breath warms your exposed skin. The hand on your waist strays under the hem of the oversized t-shirt you wear to sleep in, rubbing small circles.

"S'okay," you mumble into the darkness of your room, then "I'm so tired" as an afterthought, a weak kind of resistance even though you're already pushing your hips back into his.

He's so soft and warm and he feels so good pressed up tight against you, comforting and rousing in equal measures. You hear him laugh, feel the warm huff of air tickle the back of your neck. "Thought you said you were tired pet..."

"I am," I you insist, sulkiness tinging your words. "I've got to get up in a few hours. It's good to have you back though... missed you."

"Mmm, missed you too," he hums into the back of your neck, sending a pleasant vibration through you. His hands wander downward to smooth over the contours of your ass through the thin lace of your panties and he lightly squeezes you, making you squirm.

"Don't get any ideas, it's like 4am," you whine, burying your face in your pillow and he's quick to reply, surprisingly agreeable.

"I'm tired too, bloody knackered actually. Can never sleep in those tour bus bunks. Got fidget-arse Joe above me and Dean just across the way snoring like a warthog. Don't worry love, shagging's the last thing on my mind right now."

"It is?"

The disbelief rings out clear in your voice, earning another chuckle from him. This is novel. You don't think Sam's ever not in the mood. He usually needs little encouragement, just the feel of your body pressing up against his enough to raise his pulse... and to raise something else.

Despite his words you can feel the definition of his cock through his boxers pressing against the swell of your ass. You'd be lying if you said you weren't a little disappointed. You've missed this... you've missed him and the way he makes you feel.

"I thought that maybe we could try something different," he murmurs, voice quiet, a little tentative like he's testing the waters. "I've missed ya so much, just being here, cuddling and stuff, being close... and I've really missed being inside ya, like you wouldn't believe."

His hips shunt forward a little as if to demonstrate and your breath catches, a tiny spark lighting, threatening to burn away your tiredness.

But Sam has other ideas, his voice hopeful as you feel him shift behind you, shedding his boxers. "We don't have to do anything, we don't even have to move, we could just lie here together. I just wanna be inside ya love, is that okay?"

"Okay..." you mumble, a little hesitantly even though you're already tugging your panties down your legs and kicking them off. You can't deny the way your body reacts to him being so close, the thrill that simmers in your core as you imagine him burying himself inside you whilst he fucks you slow and deep into the mattress.

But that's not what he's implying... is it?

Your confusion quickly melts away as you feel him reaching to hook your leg over his hip, opening you up as you feel his unclothed cock pressing temptingly against your entrance. He drags the tip up and down your slit, coating himself in your wetness, mouthing tender kisses on your neck as he begins to ease himself slowly inside you.

"Sam..."

You breathe out his name, an automatic reaction as your body stretches and moulds itself around him, accepting him, welcoming him. The slow, blissful drag of his cock against your walls has you fisting the bedsheets as he buries himself inside you up to the hilt.

"Shit... forgot how good you feel," he says, voice slightly shaky, large hands moving from your hips to slide around your waist, pulling you closer. He presses his lips against your neck again, murmuring sweet praises that travel straight to your core, your hips automatically pushing back to seek that blissful friction.

"Nuh-huh love," he chuckles, fingers flexing around your waist, holding you tightly pressed against him. "That's not how it works. Ya gotta keep still, okay?"

He holds completely still in you, hot and thick against your tight heat and you can't help but squirm from the need for friction, movement, anything.

"Sa-am," you whine, frustration chasing away any remnants of sleepiness. "I'm all for experimentation in bed but this is like torture!"

"Hmm my pretty girl getting impatient huh?" He teases, shifting his hips barely imperceptibly, pushing himself impossibly deeper until his cock kisses the depths of you. You have to clamp your lips shut tight to stifle a whine, determined not to show your neediness. You want him badly but this is his idea and you're stubborn as hell. You're positive you'll get what you want but you don't want to show your weakness. You don't want to be the one to break first.

"Nah, I can handle it," you reply, trying to hide the smirk from your voice, faking a yawn which you hope sounds convincing. "And I am still pretty tired after all... reckon we could sleep like this? Feels nice."

"Err... yeah... sure," he mutters and you swear you hear a note of dismay in his voice. He probably thought you'd be begging by now. "It is really nice. Ya feel so warm and snug and tight around me... perfect."

You just smile to yourself, making out like you're getting comfy whilst you surreptitiously bring a finger up to brush over your clit, your pussy automatically clenching as you bite back a sigh.

"Shit," he hisses, and you relish the keen sound he makes as you press down on your clit again and your body reacts, contracting around him, effectively milking his cock.

His fingers move against your skin, grasping you firmly, the pressure of his teeth grazing your shoulder as he bites down a little where the neckline of your t-shirt gapes open. The sensation makes you clamp down on him again, a moan slipping out that you don't try to hide this time.

"Fuckin' 'ell love, I don't think I can do this after all," he mutters throatily, hands back on your hips as he draws himself back to fully plunge into you, an impassioned groan vibrating across your skin. His fingers are digging in so hard you feel he might leave permanent dents.

"Thought it was a stupid idea," you giggle, triumphant. "Now are you gonna fuck me then or what?"

"Can't bloody resist ya can I?" He huffs in amusement, your bold request finally breaking his resolve. You both knew full well it wasn't going to be enough. It was never going to be enough just being close, the two of you always needed more of each other in every single way.

You let him manoeuvre your body so he can slide on top of you, the delicious heavy weight of him pushing you face-down into the mattress. You arch yourself back into him and he responds by thrusting deep, tangling his fingers through yours and pressing your hands firm to the bed as he sinks into you with a groan of pure relief.

You're completely enveloped by him, his cock hitting the deepest parts of you in this position, your moans and whimpers muffled by the pillow as he finds a steady rhythm, each buck of his hips pushing you closer to the brink.

"Feels so good... missed ya so much... love ya so much darlin'..." His words are interspersed with kisses, hot, wet and sweet, scattered along your jaw and your neck, every thrust rocking deep and hitting that blissful little spot inside you that makes your toes curl.

You don't normally come from sex alone but tonight is different, you can feel the pressure building deep inside, shockwaves of indescribable pleasure as you surrender yourself to him.

He groans your name out loud, hips stuttering against your ass, grinding a final thrust as he comes, pouring into you like molten heat.

You both lie there for a moment in the quiet, completely spent and panting, him slumped over you until you begin to squirm beneath him. "Sam, you're squashing me now!"

"Shit, sorry pet," he laughs, rolling back on to his side, taking you with him so you're still fused together pressed up tight against him, the little spoon. You can feel him softening inside you, his release dripping out of you and soaking into the sheets.

"So much for just lying there," you grin and hear him chuckle, feel the warm vibrations of his laughter carry through his body to yours. "Are you gonna let me go now then?"

"Love..." he starts, the affectionate timbre of his voice warming you through as you feel him press a soft kiss to your hair, humming softly in contentment. "I ain't ever letting you go."