#my self inserts are pretty plain i feel

[djotime-allthetime]

hi!!! im back 😎✌🏼 i was thinking about y/n again (she literally hasnt left my mind yet) and was wondering if you've had a particular person in mind when writing her either in personality or in appearance? in my head she looks a bit like sydney sweeney, but more european or scandi if that makes sense?

also what accent do you imagine y/n as having, cos i imagined her speaking at the panel a london accent (like me!!!), but i am curious to see how you picture y/n in your mind!!!

👋🏼

hello my love!!

to be completely frank with you,,, y/n is me and i am y/n sooooo she is a short middle eastern girl with long hair and she has an international school accent lol

but! that's the beauty of self inserts! you can imagine her as whatever your heart desires!

[arabian-batboy]

I have been in the mood to watch some Shoujo so I finally got around watching Fruits Basket since its one of the most iconic Shoujo out there and it just feels like I’m missing out on not watching it and while I’m definitely enjoying it so far, I have to admit that Yuki’s (and Kagura) annoying ass almost made me want to drop the show...

[nap-thym3]

Sebastian Solace(Pressure) x Reader/Self-Insert, Pt. 2

I actually turned that one-shot into a fic, so If you’d like to see more, I’ll be posting new updates on my ao3 :)

____________

The churning of the ocean, once a peaceful melody you may’ve played as white-noise, is now something that haunts your every waking breath. You can hear it even now. The whooshing of the currents, the bellowing of unseen gargantuan beasts, and the creaks and groans of the facility around you bending and bowing to the pressure of the torrential waters right outside.

Cautiously, you turn to survey the room surrounding yourself. The constant, oppressive darkness outside the thick windows doesn’t help your ramping unease. The idea that anything can be lurking in the inky depths, laying in wait for you to lower your guard. Watching, surveying. Hunting. Your palms sweat as your finger nails dig crescent imprints into your flesh. Every shuddering groan of the structure feels like another nail in your coffin. Darkly, you wonder just how many rooms- no, entire floors, have completely succumbed to the will of the sea by now. You can’t help but feel helpless, every avenue of your mind overtaken by the countless ways your life can be so quickly and effortlessly snuffed out.

What’s there not to be terrified of?

You scoff quietly. When you’d signed up for this gig, there was nowhere in the contracts explaining where exactly you’d be going. If you’d known the horrors residing in these waters, of being helplessly trapped thousands of feet where not even the sun can reach… you may’ve been a touch more hesitant to apply. Or who knows, maybe being confined to the same four-walled cell would’ve drove you here regardless. There was no point on dwelling on the millions of ‘what-ifs’. Your life was already considered forfeit, UrbanShade knew it, Sebastian knew it- hell, even the monsters knew so! It was only a matter of time before you were either swallowed whole, imploded, or drowned. The only one who seemed unable to get the memo was you.

You sigh, massaging your temples in a circular motion in an attempt to mitigate the encroaching migraine. There was no point in marinating in your own existential dread, you wouldn’t give UrbanShade nor its residents the satisfaction of breaking you. You’ve spent near your entire life bottling feelings up, old habits were hard to kick and you certainly weren’t going to try stopping them now.

A little more put together than a moment prior, you continue your journey. You were going to die soon. Maybe not right this second, but your chances of survival were incredibly slim, and you’d never considered yourself lucky or partial to gambling. The truth was plain and simple, inevitable. You were expendable and that was okay. It had to be. It must be. It will be.

Yawning, you passed through yet another sad-beige room. You must’ve opened twenty- no, maybe more like thirty doors?? Possibly??? Anyhow, point was, it was quiet. Disconcertingly so. The ambient hum of the overhead lights droning on had been slowly chipping away at your resolve. It was worrying how long you’ve gone without encountering any threats. Suspicious, even. Not once had you needed to make a detour, or find a key-card to progress. Rifling through the numerous desks in this zone hadn’t provided anything particularly useful either. Aside from the occasional ‘loose asset’ or two that you know The Merchant would be glad to take off of your hands. Oh, and a flash beacon! Though it was all-in-all a pretty lukewarm score. Regardless, you clipped the light-source onto your utility belt. You doubt you’d ever actually need it- not when you have your trusty flashlight and more batteries on hand than you could possibly ever need( Sebastian had given you an exponentially cheap price for those. Claiming it was more profitable to ‘sell them in bulk’ ). The monotonous repetition of pilfering office cubicles was mind-numbing, and you were sick of it.

Feeling frustrated, your pace quickens to that of a jog. Logically, you know you should be conserving your energy. It was reckless to be blindly racing through these halls, but you just couldn’t stand it anymore. If you had to die soon, so be it. But you weren’t going to just sit there like an appetizing bucket of chum and wait for death to come to you. You’d go down kicking and screaming.

Without you noticing it in your rising panic, your modest jog had turned into a run, and before you knew it, you were flying through rooms. Each one a never ending blur of the same layout. Cubicle, desk, door. Cubicle, desk, door. Cubicle, desk- chair? Chair!

Abruptly, you’re sent careening off-balance by an errant swivel-seat. When had that got there?Thankfully, you land on your side, the brunt force of your tumble distributing throughout your body evenly instead of in one specific location. Your expiration date could’ve been that much sooner if you’d somehow managed to break a bone. Stunned(kind of like how toddlers freeze before realizing if the situation calls for a meltdown or not), you remain curled in a fetal position on the floor, chest heaving with exertion. Remember when you said you weren’t an athletic individual? Yeah, that wasn’t an exaggeration.

A strangled wheeze erupts as you inch your hands up to your face, muffling your sounds of misery as pain ricochet’s throughout your body. It’d be one thing to land on carpet- but fuckity fuck, concrete?? Yeowch. God, you were so pathetic. This isn’t even the worst pain you’ve endured during your stay at the black-site. Maybe it was just your exhaustion, but all that big inner-monologuing over accepting your fate on your own terms and all that other melodramatic bogus- only to epically face-plant so soon afterwards? Ugh. Embarrassing. You lay motionless in a limp pile of limbs on the floor, gasping for air like a fish on land.

Slowly, you drag a palm down over your sweat-slicked face, before you rolling onto your front. Your ribcage digs into your organs, but you endure for the moment. Now that you’re not actively moving, you have a moment to catch your breath and scatter the panicked, adrenaline-filled haze that had clouded your mind.

As you lay there on the steadily, increasingly uncomfortable, hard floor; chin perched on your crossed arms, and epiphany strikes through you. This whole time, you’d been brainlessly pressing forward. Assuming there to be only the one way through. But when had this place ever been so simple? Perhaps all you needed was a new matter of perspective.

Just as the thought crossed your mind, your gaze snags on a vent-grille a little ways ahead of you. Similar in design to that of the ones you usually traverse through to visit Sebastian. Oh. Sebastian.

Thinking of the fish-man now, you’re filled with melancholy. Would he be upset if you just… didn’t return? The idea of Sebastian waiting for you to visit again but you never returning leaves a heavy feeling in your stomach. No, you couldn’t imagine him being so easily rattled by your disappearance, no matter how much you’d selfishly hope him to be. The more likely scenario, on the other hand? He probably wouldn’t even notice. The constant ebb and flow of UrbanShade volunteers was sure to prevent people like you from occupying his mind for any longer than necessary. And yet, even still knowing that the shopkeep realistically didn’t hold you in the same regard… you crave to be curled by his side. Goofing off and trading quips, stealing a few precious moments to yourself to pretend that everything was okay. Your brows up-turn, features scrunching not only in physical pain, but internal pain too. You had it bad. Whether it was a case of simply pack-bonding to the nearest individual, or (hopefully) something more akin to genuine connection remained yet to be seen.

Heartbeat no longer thudding in your chest, you rise up on scuffed knees, mildly cringing at the bloodied and torn fabric of your wetsuit. Without anymore fanfare, you crawl into the vent. Through a few winding turns you’re quickly spat out into, finally, a new room. Bouncing onto your feet, the heavy blast-door slides open, and you’re greeted by your typical scene rather than the looping office-space. You don’t waste anytime jumping through the frame, only twisting around in surprise when the door hurriedly slams closed. Well that’s odd, the doors normally stay open, no?

Confused, you watch as the screen, typically presenting the previous room’s number, is instead displaying a pixelated “>:(“

You incredulously snort, unsure how to proceed.

Deciding to err on the side of caution, you timidly shuffle before the entry-way.

“Hello?” You greet, yet it sounds more like a question. Honestly, you felt pretty ridiculous calling out to a door of all things.

The screen goes blank, nothing but a red, blinking cursor remaining stationary. What the fuck? Was someone actively hacking the screens? But why? How?? Were they friend or foe? Unsure, you wave a hand before the display. The cursor doesn’t move, nor do any new messages appear. A little perturbed, you rub your weary eyes. Was it a trick of the light? Or maybe a malfunction? Whatever the case may be, your intuition doesn’t like it. So far, it hasn’t led you astray. Wearily, you turn away from the peculiar door.

Walking down the corridor, you’re surrounded once again by thick plexiglass-glass. This time, however, it doesn’t just stop at little viewing windows. No, everything but the floor beneath your feet and the ceiling above was made of the same reinforced glass. You sway on your feet, suddenly nauseous and feeling entirely too exposed. You can feel your vision tunneling, everything except for the door ahead of you blurring out of focus like a low-resolution camera.

You feel as if you’re walking on a tight-rope, one step away from falling into the oppressive darkness on either side of you. Shakily, you try to focus your breathing. In and out. Concentrate on pulling oxygen. In and out .

So focused on what’s in front of you, you fail to notice as a sickly green light begins filter through the darkness.

Behind yourself, the odd little screen flickers back to life.

“Goodbye :)” It reads.

Sebastian, ever on the move, didn’t stay in one place for too long. Sure, there were a few, self-made outposts he frequented where he felt confident no friends would interrupt his business dealings. But he couldn’t rely entirely on the bumbling ex-convicts UrbanShade ‘hired’ to retrieve the information he sought. No, it was best that if he wanted things to get done right , he shouldn’t shuck the entirety of the workload onto the fools who didn’t even care for their cause. Which was exactly what he was doing.

His frequent routes through the complex weren’t typically above-ground. Neither did he rely too heavily on traversing through water. He was sore to admit it, but despite his genetic ‘enhancements’, there were much bigger fish than him lurking about the complex. Ones that didn’t bargain, nor were they nearly as susceptible to the ways of persuasion as humans were. No, just like him, his fellow test-subjects were nearly all carnivorous in nature. They all hungered so deeply, so ravenously that they rarely deigned to even take a moment to consider before lunging. No amount of shared trauma or sympathies were greater than the hollow of their stomachs. Sebastian’s expression sours.

His current path took him through the utility tunnels, a labyrinth of narrow, concrete halls that he had mapped out over countless excursions. Here, he was less likely to encounter any unwelcome reunions that roamed the more typical halls. His movements were swift and silent, honed by years of surviving in this underwater hellscape.

Body on auto-pilot, Sebastian’s thoughts drifted to you, as they so often did these days. Especially so since your last visit. Sebastian’s chest warms as he recalls the way you’d looked(admired, really) at him. As if he were anything but a monster. Of how you had called him pretty. How stupidly sincere you were, refusing to backtrack as any other sane person in your shoes would do- even as he gave you ample time to do so. He curses his tender heart, maybe the only part of him left that was well and truly human. Most days he wishes that the scientists who swapped his organs and irreparably altered his body would’ve taken his heart too. It certainly would’ve made things a lot easier.

As his mind circles back to you, a small flicker of concern breaches through the current of his thoughts. You were stubborn, he’d give you that, but how long could you really last down here? He knew UrbanShade’s plans, their blatant disregard for human life- er, life in general. Everyone down here was expendable, a pawn in their grand plan. He didn’t want to admit it, but he had grown… accustomed, of your visits. Of your banter and your resilience. It’s been so long since someone’s looked at him and seen anything else other than a ghastly experiment. You spoke with him, really spoke with him, not just at him. Plus, you didn’t even mind his crass attitude- hell! You even matched it more often than not. Most others in your place wouldn’t dare to rebuke his snark. In a cruel place devoid of connection, you were a rare exception.

He shook his head, clearing away any residual gooey ‘sentiments’. Sentimentality was a weakness he couldn’t afford. He had a mission, and attachments would only complicate things. Still, as he navigated the dark passageways, he couldn’t shake the tentative hope of being able to see you again. Wouldn’t that be nice?

There’s a great bellow somewhere above, undoubtedly from that of the ‘eyefestation’. It was one of the more ‘tame’ byproducts of the black-site’s experiments. Well, as tame as anything down here could be. It was sentient, for a start. Sebastian wasn’t sure by how much exactly, and didn’t particularly care- nor had the time to find out. What was important was that it was free of its enclosure now, all thanks to him.

Poor thing, it’s always been easily picked on by the humans. With a long, suffering sigh, Sebastian once again curses his bleeding heart. Soundlessly, he makes a detour to the upper levels.

[melancholysway]

Can you do 2007 turtles crush at first sight hc's reaction to master splinter introducing them to an old friend of his who is female ninja around their age. How would they act around them?

Of course I can! I hope this is what you had in mind :)

TMNT 2007 HC: Their reaction to their crush at first sight 💚

- “This is an old friend. You may address her as Miss Y/n.”

- “Now Splinter, you know I don’t care much for formalities. We’re about the same age, yeah?” You smile at the turtles as you stand before them; who remain bowing to you as a sign of respect.

- However, one turtle in particular picks his head back up the quickest to look at your face.

- The four brothers were expecting you. Master Splinter had informed them of an old friend- she was the daughter of one of his past Sensei’s. He felt a sense of pride introducing you to them.

- You were the product of the intense training he went through as well.

- “You can just call me Y/n. It’s nice to meet you all. Splinter has told me so much about you guys.” You go around the room, making sure to shake every one of the turtle’s hands. Each one had a different grip on your own small hand.

- “I reckon you remember the story of my Sensei my sons; Master Hisashi.” Splinter had told the four brothers countless memories from his time training under Hisashi. He learned almost everything he knew from him.

- “Is that…?” Mikey trails off.

- “His daughter, Yes.” Splinter remembered when you were just a little girl. You had been adopted by Hisashi when you were only one year old after a tragic car accident with your birth parents. Hisashi raised you and eventually trained you to become a kunoichi.

- “He taught me everything I know.” You had also made an appearance so you could spar with the turtles. Once Hisashi got in touch (finally!) with Splinter, he had to explain the mutation situation he was in years ago. HIsashi understood, of course he did.

- His former student and good friend being a rat had changed nothing. Once moving to New York, HIsashi began to visit often, fascinated by the four mutated turtles.

- Fast forward to now, you were finally able to meet them yourself.

- As you study each of the brothers, you see one of them had his eye on you longer than the rest; especially after shaking their hand.

Leonardo

He’s intrigued. He knew Hisashi had a daughter, but now, he was meeting you for the first time.

Someone forgot to mention how pretty you were

You weren’t dressed like a kunoichi, though. You weren’t wearing any fabrics that indicated so. 

You only wore black leggings and a tank top with some sneakers, your single katana in its holster strapped to your back.

He liked your simplicity, given you were here today to spar with his brothers

He couldn’t wait to spar with you btw

You walk up to him first, sticking out your hand for him to take.

His hand shake is formal

though it lasts a little longer as he enjoys the feeling of your hand touching his

His eyes look into yours, and you return his sincere smile

“I hear you’re the strong, fearless leader. Leonardo, right?” 

*Insert butterflies in his stomach*

“Y-yeah, you can call me Leo.” His self-confidence gets a sudden boost at your words. Strong? Fearless?

Yeah, that’s him honey.

He watches as you go down the line, shaking his other brother’s hands, he notices the katana behind you. Its handle is a beautiful shiny black, designed with pastel pink cherry blossoms and white branches. He looks behind his back at his own dual katanas. The handles were plain blue with some imperfections from wear and tear. It appeared your aura and beauty matched your own weapon.

You were absolutely breathtaking to him, your hair in a bun, loose strands dancing around your face. He watches your lips as they open to talk and shake the rest of his brother’s hands. 

Once you finish, you make your way back to Master Splinter who tells his sons to begin stretching for today’s training.

 “It’s rude ta stare, fearless.” Raphael jokes with a snickering Michelangelo. Leo didn’t realize how long he had been staring at you.

“I- uh.” “No need ta hide it,” Raph gets up from his spot to stretch his arms, and leaves his brother and his flushed cheeks on the opposite side of the dojo.

He wondered what your interests were; what you liked and disliked. What makes you happy, and what makes you sad. He was so lost in thought that he didn’t notice you getting closer in his field of vision, walking right up to him. 

“Could I spar with you first, Leo?” Your voice sweetly greeted his ears like honey to a bear’s tongue. 

“I…yes, I’d love to be first.” He gets up from his spot on the floor after a few quick stretches, watching as you flash him a smile, your eyes closing as you did so.

He knew the more you came down to visit, the more he’d want to spend time with you to get to know you.

Raphael

‘She’s small.’ - Raph’s mind

He watches your body language and mannerisms. How you smile to each of his brothers, showing them all the same amount of respect.

When he sees you go up to him first to shake his hand, he’s a little shocked.

I mean, he’s the biggest turtle of the team. His biceps alone rival Donnie’s and Leo’s combined. He’s also very much aware of his RBF, which he cannot control

So, why did you come up to introduce yourself first? Wouldn’t you be at least a little intimidated by him?

His thoughts come crashing down when you finally speak to him.

“Looks like you carry the world’s problems on those sculpted shoulders of yours,” How did you see right through him? You weren’t intimidated by his resting bitch face, nor how brolic he was compared to the rest of the team.

He also wasn’t expecting you to flirt with him?

He thought- wait- were you flirting with him?

When he doesn’t say anything, you smile and stick out your hand.

“Raphael, correct?” 

“Uh, yeah. Or Raph. Whicheva you prefer.” The way his name escaped your lips was heavenly. His own gruff deep voice had clashed with your softer one. You had contrasting differences from each other, but it only made him study your face more. 

He takes your hand to shake, holding back his strength so he doesn’t crush your hand by accident. 

He likes how smaller your hand is compared to his own, too. How soft your hand was compared to his rough one. How your 5 fingers easily interlocked with his 3 digits. 

His golden eyes looked at yours, studying you and your facial features. There was no way this girl who was significantly smaller than him was a trained kunoichi.

But, you were. Splinter had told him and his brothers all the stories about Hisashi and his daughter. How talented she was in the art of ninjutsu. 

He comes to terms with this when he notices your katana strapped to your back as you walk away from him.

“Nice eyes, by the way.” You compliment absentmindedly, smiling as you went down the rest of the line to meet the next turtle.

He doesn’t say anything, though, he can’t help but keep his eyes on you. This was the second time in a matter of 5 minutes that you had flirted with him- at least that's what he thinks it was.

‘Nah, it totally was.’ He smirks as he looks you up and down, his eyes moving with your curves all the way down to your ankles. The way your eyes glanced at him every now and then, only for you to see he was smirking at you.

And soon after introducing yourself to the rest of his brothers, it was time for training. 

Raph’s body seemed to stretch out easily. He trained and exercised often, and he watched as your arms reached to touch the tips of your sneakers, watching how your calf muscles under your leggings flex as you did so. 

He walks over to you, stature looming over your stretching form. You take notice of the shadow engulfing you, turning around to look up and see the turtle in red.

“I won’t go easy on ya,” He says matter of factly. Expecting you to simply nod and go back to what you were doing, you get up to stand in front of him, his plastron almost coming into contact with your chest.

“I wasn’t expecting you to. Besides, I like a challenge.” You wink before walking away, going back to what you were doing as if what you said held no weight.

The way you looked at him, and even matched his energy? Yeah, he was ready to take you on.

Unbeknownst to you, Raphael also loves a good challenge. 

“Don’t tell me she’s got you wrapped around her finger already,” Leo says chuckling. He notices how quickly Raph turns around to deny his statement, with a snarky comment of his own.

“Yeah right, I’m head ova heels already.” He responds sarcastically. Looking back at you, now conversing with Donatello, he chuckles to himself. 

He wasn’t wrapped around your finger. Yet. It was going to take more than flirting and winks to get him under your spell.

Donatello

This turtle is nervous at first. Donnie is intimidated by women. He’s grew up with his brothers his whole life, that the thought of a woman gets him in a twist.

His reaction to meeting you isn’t the same as how he met April. He had this awkward one-sided crush on her that he never acted upon. His brothers knew, of course. He was such a nerdy shy turtle that would blush every time April gave him a hug.

This crush was short-lived, though. Once Casey came into the picture, he kept his feelings in. 

Surprisingly, he got over April fairly quickly.

Now, 2007 Donnie doesn’t fall head over heels at first sight. He takes a moment before acting on impulse. 

‘Pretty.’ He thinks as he looks at you. You’re standing so confident beside Splinter that he has no choice but to admire you. After hearing so many stories of Hisashi’s daughter, you were now standing in front of him, ready to shake his hand. 

Donnie is shy, he awkwardly sticks out his hand, and when you touch his, he can’t help but blush. His cheeks dusted pink from physical contact with you.

“It’s nice to meet you, Donatello.” Your pretty smile just compliments the rest of your face that Donnie can’t help but stumble on his words. 

“O-Oh, please, um…call me Donnie, or Don! Whichever.” Stupid! He mentally curses at himself. For once could he just act a little confident?

“Donnie…that’s a cute name for a genius.” Cue Donnie smiling like an idiot. You knew about him thanks to talking to Splinter. You knew Donnie was the most intelligent turtle out of the four. He had the power to make nothing into something great. He was truly an underrated member of the team.

“Ha…genius is a little…I wouldn’t say…well,” He’s stuttering and puts a hand behind his neck for comfort. He can hear Mikey snickering to his left side. 

But, you were right. Donnie was a genius. His name was also pretty cute, too. 

He thought you were cute btw

Despite being intimidated by you, your hand was soft, and it shook his gently. He notices the way your hand feels on his own, and he breaks the shake before his cheeks catch on fire from how nervous he is. 

His brown eyes continue to watch you even after introductions. How you begin stretching nearby, as he tries to focus on his own body.\

He’s admiring you. From what he’s heard, you were a highly trained kunoichi. The thought of you in battle piqued his interest. Not only that, but he wondered how much damage such a pretty girl like you could do.

Donnie wasn’t exactly the strongest, and he was afraid he would make a fool of himself during sparring (Splinter brought ‘The Hat’ out, meaning that he would pick names from a Yankees baseball cap to see who would spar with who.) 

He was hoping, praying he didn’t get paired with Raph first. 

He’s so lost in his anxious thoughts that he doesn’t notice you pick up his bo staff from beside him. 

“I can’t wait to see what you can do with this,” You say. He looks up at you from his spot on the floor, watching in admiration as you spin it around like a color guard from a marching band. 

“You’ve mastered the bo staff, yeah?” You ask, placing it in his open hands. 

‘Keep it cool, Donnie.’

“Yeah, it was a little hard at first, since it’s just a piece of wood.” He notices you sit down next to him, continuing to stretch. 

He gets a little more comfortable talking to you. You weren’t towering over him, and it eased him up a bit. 

“I mean, I can’t remember how many times Foot soldiers laughed at me when they saw me pull it out during a fight.” He admits. It was true, he was the laughingstock amongst new Foot Soldiers who hadn’t fought him yet. However, he would quickly show him he was not the one to mess with. 

“I’d love to see you fight, Donnie.” You flash him a smile, patting him on the shell. Your voice is so modulated and pleasant to listen to. 

You were gonna be the death of him.

Michaelangelo

He thinks you’re cute. 

Totally cute

He’s so giddy and excited to meet you, but he’s also a little nervous.

He wasn’t the best fighter on the team, but he was the glue that kept them together during tough times. When they need a push or a lighthearted moment after a serious one, they look to Mikey for that relief.

“What’s up, Kunoichi dudette!” Mikey’s handshake is playful like himself. He’s also not really into formalities, so he lets you know right off the bat you can call him Mikey. 

“I never met a kunoichi before! This is so cool~” 

“Yes we have Mikey. Karai.” Donnie says factually. Mikey scoffs and smiles.

“She doesn’t count. Y/n’s one of the good guys, right?” You nod in agreement. Hisashi had told you about Karai who also was a trained Kunoichi. The only difference between you two ladies was that you stood on different beliefs. Karai was cold, brash, and dangerous. 

You were the opposite. If it came down to it conflict wise, you could handle your own. Mikey didn’t think you looked deadly or dangerous at all.

He wants to get to know you. You’re the third human girl he’s met! He wants to know a lot about your life as a Kunoichi. 

He’s surprised at how easy it is to talk to you. Mikey can get really giddy and excited when talking to people, but he likes the way you respond and bounce off of what he says. 

“Nunchucks? You’ve got to show me how to use them!” You smile and giggle as Mikey is clearly trying to impress you with his dual weapon. He’s swinging them around quickly and doing a few tricks he’s learned. 

“They’re really easy, just look at how- ow!” You watch as Mikey bonks himself on the head with one of his nunchucks, wincing from the pain on the floor.

“Are you okay?” You place a hand on his shoulder, and suddenly, he’s up and at em’ like it never happened.

“I’m okay! Don’t worry everyone!” He announces to his family. 

“Don’t worry! We ain’t worryin’!” Raphael replies from the other side of the dojo.

Smiling at Mikey, you excuse yourself to your own spot in the room. As you unsheathe your katana, he can’t wait to see you use it.

He watches in awe as you practice on your own before sparring in a corner by yourself. With your katana in hand, he’s watching how easily your body flows with each swift movement. 

“She’s like an angel…” He says dreamily. Unlike Raph’s hard exterior, Mikey’s was soft. 

He would be wrapped around your little finger in an instant. 

//

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[wiktorianala]

My oc's + characters they were based of in one way or another

I got bored of sewing, maybe gonna continue on weekend, but anyway i decided that it's time to make smthng more with Bouney 'n Handy so there's a lil drawings and if someone is interested in me yapping about them, story, 'n other stuffs then click here \/

Oki, so I'll start with at which point they were based of well, Salad and Madotsuki. Starting from Handy because this will take me less time. She was created waaay later, at moment when I wanted to start working on comic, so I had to make second character just so Bouney wouldn't be only one, well i wanted to make her an object head of some kind to match with the fact that Bouney's head was created out of rotated eye. It is not anymore but that was honestly how I created this little freak. Fine but coming back to topic I wanted to give her some kind of object, and I'm honestly shit when it come to making any decisions myself, so with my friend we just looked throught my entire sketchbook and we found drawing of Madotsuki with hand palm effect (because I was pretty much fixated over this game and bigger part of sketchbook had Yume Nikki drawings), so we just picked hand. Now, with Bouney it's longer story, just like I said, I created him way earlier, so first thing he got after Salad were simple plain clothes 'cuz I'm layzy and absolutelly didn't wanted to bother with drawing anything complicated over and over again (and I picked Salad, because once again, yes it was my fixation at that time, and I want to remind that thos are two different times btw). So at the point when I wanted to start making thos comics and when I already had character designs I had to give them personalities and story, and the story... it was pretty different from what it is now. First vershion of it was too about a empty world and all thos stuffs, this didn't change, but main difference was the fact that in earlier ver Bouney was only living creature in this world. Handy was more of some kind of imaginary friend that appeared in his head due to loneliness there. (this a bit was based out of Salad too, because, ya know, empty weird world, clearly not very sane main creature character 'n thos stuffs) Plot mostly was just like in current vershion pretty goofy 'n just some "everyday stuffs", but at some points it was getting pretty heavy and sad. AND YES I KNOW THAT IT SOUNDED MUCH MORE INTERESTING, honestly at some point even I liked it more in this way, but there were two main reasons why I changed it. First one, fact that Handy wasn't really a physical person caused some technical writing issues that maybe been not that hard to fix, but as once already I said- I'm layzy, so I didn't wanted to be bothered by them. And now second and honestly more important reason (at least for me), it was time when I was making 2nd re-write of "Fragments of Sanity" plot (rn I'm working on 3rd, and I hope last one, because I want to finally make it into comic too) and I mean first version of it was pretty, well sad (I can't really find better word for it), but on second version? Oh boy, let me tell ya this shit is even worse (and main reason for this is probably because I dunno when but Mike ended up being at least in his personality and behavior (not by plot) a bit of self insert). So I didn't really wanted both of my projects to be like that, and I wantd at least one of them to be one with wich I could more goof around, so yeah, I've changed it. Well I guess that's all I wanted to say? I dunno. I know that in 95% no one is about to read this, but anyway I feel at least better when I can yap somewhere about some certain stuffs, and hey, ain't that for what blogs even exist? For people to yap, and do stuffs they like? Damn after writing for such a long time about them I guess I have a need rn to finish this god damned 3rd chapter. So yeah, now that's all.

[xenon-demon]

I fucking love pretty much every version of the “celebrity x Just Some Guy™” trope that there is for Steddie, but in honor of having a totally reasonable amount of wine I’m going to tell you about the version I’m currently thinking about all the time, one of my dumbest yet also funniest AU concepts: modern!AU with streamers Steve & Robin and Hardcore Fan™ Eddie who writes reader-insert fic about Steve.

Steve and Robin, aka EvenStevens and BirdBox_ on Twitch (“My name is spelled with a P-H, Robin, that’s such a stupid name.” “No, it’s actually even better this way! You don’t want to just use your real government name for something like this, and you would just make your username ‘SteveHarrington01′ or something equally uninspired-”) frequently stream together and have a shared YouTube channel. They got popular doing reaction videos that quickly devolve into the pair of them bickering on camera, and since the internet just loves the ‘snarky woman and her emotional support himbo’ dynamic, they got very big, very quick. Plus, it certainly doesn’t hurt that they had the combined might of Dustin and Erica to help them bend the algorithm to their whims.

While most people recognize their platonic-with-a-capital-P soulmatism, there are still some that are convinced they’re secretly dating - they can’t decide if it’s hilarious or absolutely maddening that every time they try to disprove the rumors, they somehow get stronger. Robin doesn’t feel comfortable coming out to the internet yet, and without that trump card some people just can’t understand why they’re not dating.

...there are other sections of their fandom, however, that absolutely do believe they’re not dating. Mainly because they’d rather be dating Steve or Robin (or both!) themselves, and write all the reader-insert fanfiction you could ever possibly need about it. Robin is largely ambivalent to the concept of fanfiction being written about herself as long as they’re not writing smut, since at least that way they’re not insisting she’s dating Steve.

Steve on the other hand finds it absolutely hilarious how despite how much he’s changed, he’s back to being the heartthrob he used to be in high school - and, he’ll be honest, he thrives on the attention. He’s given everyone the green light to write whatever they want - dared them to make it raunchier, even - to the point where it’s a running joke that Steve will read your reader-insert fanfiction about him unless you tag it with some form of ‘Steve don’t look’. He even used the prevalence of fic about himself to come out on stream.

(Steve’s in the middle of re-organizing his flower field in Animal Crossing when he’s interrupted by a donation. “Hey Steve, really sorry to tell you this but people are writing porn about you... and they’re making it gay. Like writing about you getting fucked by a dude. Just wanted you to know so you can say something about it.”

Steve stops dead, his screen freezing on his open inventory. “Hey, uh, why the fuck would I have a problem about a fictional version of me bottoming? Or- wait, do I seriously give off homophobic vibes? I’m literally bisexual. Hey Dustin, can you ban that guy please? Christ, the nerve of some people. If that’s how you feel about people being gay, or about people writing things that I’ve already said I have no problem with, you can leave this stream right now because I don’t want you here.“)

Many people lost their minds after that stream, one of them being popular tumblr blog whorefireclub.

Eddie didn’t plan on starting a tumblr blog for self-insert fanfiction about a twitch streamer. Really he didn’t, and every time he thinks about it in terms that plain he kind of dies a little on the inside. It’s really all Gareth’s fault, for getting fed up with Eddie’s dumb parasocial crush on a streamer and daring him to just “get it out of his system already”. So, using a bare-bones anonymous tumblr and many, many beers as his cover story, Eddie posted some of the most quickly written and unedited pieces of writing he’s ever produced in his life.

Except he wrote it with an AMAB reader character - and for those of you unfamiliar with the reader-insert sphere, that’s like fucking hen’s teeth. People are pretty good at making things gender neutral at least in their descriptions, and sometimes the anatomy is vague enough that it’s ambiguous, but the majority is written with AFAB genitalia for the reader character.

Eddie’s little drunken post blows up, and at first, he’s never regretted a life choice more.

After thinking about it, and seeing just how many people left comments with their reblogs or came into his askbox directly to thank him for giving them the representation they wanted, he starts to feel a bit better about the whole thing. In fact, it kind of tickles his “protector of the outcasts” instincts; there are people who can’t enjoy the content they want to because it doesn’t gel with their anatomy or gender identity. Eddie could, hypothetically, if he wanted to be absolutely insane about this one hot streamer guy, help fix that problem somewhat.

A couple of months later and he’s become “the guy who writes inclusive reader-insert fic”. While a fair amount of his work is gender-ambiguous, both in anatomy and in avoiding gendered language, more than half is written for anyone who finds themselves underrepresented in the usual reader-insert scene; anyone AMAB, AFAB people who can’t do female language, he’s even written a few oneshots with intersex reader characters. He did research for it and everything. It’s certainly not how he planned for this to work out, but it’s actually kind of... nice. He’d written a lot of fanfiction in his youth, mainly about Lord of the Rings and Star Trek, and while this isn’t how he’d imagined returning to the hobby it’s actually really fun. (It’s making his celebrity crush on Steve a million times worse, of course, but he’s in denial about that so it’s totally fine.)

He’s a little shit, so his blog header has - underneath his personal details - a PSA that reads “Steve, don’t look at this unless you have the balls to shout me out on stream ;)”. Eddie thinks he’s absolutely hilarious.

Right up until he wakes up to find his following has exploded overnight, and upon checking his DMs from his mutuals realizes that - oh shit - that bastard actually did it and talked about his blog on stream.

And Steve said he liked it. Steve likes the porn that Eddie wrote about him. Jesus H. Christ, Eddie is so unfathomably fucked.

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

if this were to exist as a fic it would be told through social media posts/DMs. one of those fics that uses unconventional (i.e. non-prose) formatting, you know the ones. the concept actually came from the fact I fucking LOVE fics like that, I’m a slut for any of that House of Leaves-type shit. one time I read a fic that consisted of 8 short stories and each one had a HTML puzzle you had to solve to be able to read it, e.g. one you had to highlight because the text was in white, another you needed to hover your mouse over to make it scroll through the text - I can’t remember the rest but it was SO COOL.

(or, to put this another way, I read homestuck at a formative age and it forever changed how I feel about formatting stories.)

[ofmermaidstories]

hi merms, i hope you’re doing great. i’m sorry if this is different from your usual asks but i wanted to ask you, since you are literally blog goals, but how can i be more like you and enjoy my own blog? i love how you’re so free in your own space and express yourself, and you’re just full of happiness and all the bright, good things. going to your blog always makes me smile. its like you spread joy and warmth so easily. is it weird i feel more at home with your blog 😭 i wish i could enjoy my blog too, but sometimes drama makes the experience un-fun, like mean anons, or worse, your own readers constantly putting you in weird competition with your own writer friends over things you and your friends never even noticed before. i know the easy answer is to just ignore the haters and enjoy writing, and i really love writing, but its hard sometimes. i wish i could make my blog feel as homey as yours. visiting your page is like comin home to fresh hot chocolate after a long day of work 💐 thats all luv, sending you lots of love always 🌸

oh anon. i’m sorry. 🥺 i am sitting with you and we will piece this out together though, okay? 🧩 it’s hard! i’ve actually been feeling kind of dejected, lately, like with tumblr in general and my usage of it—because i haven’t been using it like i used to! so i guess that’s the first thing: to figure out what you want out of it, and then figure out what it takes to make it happen. for me i enjoy this place most when i’m treating it like a scrapbook: quotes or pictures that inspire me, asks, things i doodle. the pros of that: you fill your space with stuff you love, or that means something to you! the cons: it can be a little isolating if the stuff you love, or the things that mean something to you, aren’t like… current writing or posting trends, lmao. but it all just depends on what you value! 🥺 i’m not a fast writer, and tend to favour long-term projects, so while it sometimes makes me sad when i fall out of the loop of things, ultimately i just accept (or try to) that that’s how i work in this space. 🥹 as mama cass said, sometimes you just gotta make your own kinda music.

drama makes everything boring! and tbh i think my biggest cheat with that is that i only follow a relatively small amount of x reader blogs. 🥹 that’s not intentional; i curate a pretty strict feed based on my other interests, though, so there ends up being a lot of competition for my attention. 🥺 the pros of this is that i tend to miss most discourse that happens (lmao). the con is that i tend to miss everything else, too, though. 🥹 you basically have to choose whichever bothers you less lmfaooo. and even then—drama or meanness or plain old weirdness will still find it’s way to you. 🥺 i think that’s just the unforch reality of being on social media. especially in a niche that’s so… driven by something as personal as literally self-inserting, and dependant on the validation of others. 🥺 i’m sorry people have made you feel like you’re in competition with your friends! it sucks, because i think we as writers like… live in our own heads, lmao. we know so much about the worlds and characters we’re trying to write. but people outside of our heads don’t—think the same way! 🥺 they will draw comparisons where maybe we don’t want them to. 🥺 i think that’s a natural response, tbh; especially if they love something, and see work with like, a similar theme or tropes, but despite it being a compliment it doesn’t always feel great. 🥹 i guess the only advice (and reminder, for myself) i can offer is that you and your friends aren’t in competition—but rather thrown into the same maze together. 🥺 the only way out is to hold hands to make sure none of you get lost, and walk through. 🥹

anon!!! 🥺 i hope you find a way to make your blog feel more homely. you’re always welcome here—the door’s always open for the sunlight and the bees—but i want you to feel like the important part of the neighbourhood you are! 🥺 and safe enough that you can leave your door open, too. 🪟🎐🌾

[annoyingenthusiastperfection]

Summary : Hobie found more about you

Warnings :None , except horrible writting of accent sorry.

Toy Keeper

Hobie furiously knocked in your window . "Hey , Man let me in I'm dying out here" You looked at him unimpressed. "It's to early for this go back home Spiderman" Hobie icks at the name "It's spider punk , geezer so let me in before I lick your face off" Rolling your eyes you let him in.

"Whats this excuse for staying over now? " opening the window for him his dirty shoes leaving mud marks. "Just the loud pop trash music in my building." He said sinking into your bed like he owns it. "Did you try talking to them?" Hobie snorted "U kidding? Its a part hell no they gonna lower ot down for a noise complaint " he cuddles with your pillow it scent felt comforting to him. He never really got to know you since the only reason you guys become friends was just cause u saw him under the mask by accident.

"Hey (y/n) what was your childhood like?"Hobie asked without thinking.You looked at him funny "I am not sure you can relate to (insert your country/city name) experience but I think it was pretty normal." Hobie furrowed his brows "Your not from here?" You picked a family picture of your parents and relatives . "Nope" "I never knew" He stammered feeling a sting . " What else u hiding?" He asked jokingly yrying to ease him self.

"I have nothing to hide " As you said that Hobie fell of your bed finding.....

Toys?

They were in clear containers showing every single piece inside be it my little pony , ninja turtes , power ranger , ever after high , and more he doent know . "What are these hidding in plain sight?" You turned your back to Hobie blushing.

"(Y/n) are these your toys?" You threw a pillow at his face "So what? They have sentimental value!" Well this is a start of getting to know them more.

"Aww little toy keeper emberassed?" Another pillow hit his face as his laughter echos around the room. "YOU BETTER NOT TELL ANYONE ABOUT THIS!""HAHAHAHAHAH"

The night ended as the day begins

[lavenderbexlatte]

Golden Age (Part 2: Kangaroo)

nct 5.9k words female reader insert Reader x Lee Taeyong x Ten Lee (feat. nct ensemble) suggestive/NSFW

🖤 warnings: non-idol au, quarter life crisis au; self-esteem crises, men with no jobs, men with many jobs, my personal love/hate relationship with kim doyoung, mentions of/jokes about sexual orientation, kissing the bros 🖤

connect with me! / masterlist

💛series masterlist

part 2: kangaroo.

Kangaroo, the bright pastel café on the ground floor of the same building that houses Pado, is an adorable and Instagram-worthy spot.

It’s empty when you arrive, save for one table where you spot the back of Taeyong’s silver hair across from a handsome and unfamiliar dark-haired guy.

But you pause in the door to stare, yet again, feeling ridiculous, at the staff.

They’re all pretty. Again.

The man at the kitchen door, the man at the coffee machine. One guy looks up from collecting dishes to smile and greet you, all dimples and wavy caramel-colored hair and straight pretty teeth, so good-looking that it makes you weak in the knees.

What is going on around here?

You decide that you don’t have time to figure that one out, and you approach the table where Taeyong waits.

The other guy is facing you, so he sees you first. A flat, analytical gaze, unimpressed eyes in a classical, beautiful face. Incredibly gorgeous, silky black hair falling perfectly around his face.

“She’s here,” the guy says to Taeyong, not breaking his weird eye contact with you.

Taeyong, for his part, turns in his seat and beams at you. “Hey.”

“Hi,” you reply, unnerved, glancing at him for a quick reprieve from the impromptu staring contest.

“Down, boy,” Taeyong says to his friend, waving a hand just inches from his face.

The eye contact breaks, and that sharp gaze goes down to the glass of iced coffee in front of him.

“This is Doyoung,” Taeyong tells you. “He’s harmless, I promise.”

Doyoung rolls his eyes.

“He’s mostly harmless,” Taeyong amends.

Doyoung brings the coffee to his lips, mumbling against the glass, “I just don’t know why you invited-”

You don’t get to find out if he’s lamenting your invitation to this brunch, or his own, because Taeyong interrupts brightly, “Sit next to me.”

Gratefully, you do just that, sliding into the wicker chair beside Taeyong. It’s a four-seater table, putting you diagonal from Doyoung, who is still grilling you with those cold and narrowed eyes as he pulls his phone out of his pocket.

“Who else is coming?” you ask, praying that someone – anyone – is.

“I think Kun is going to take a break and come sit with us,” Taeyong says, with a vague gesture back toward the service counter. “And Mark said he’s coming.”

“Mark’s on his way,” Doyoung reports.

“You didn’t have a hangover after the other night, I hope?” Taeyong asks you.

You feel distinctly uncomfortable discussing the tame details of your previous night in this neighborhood in front of Doyoung. Maybe because of the way he’s watching you. Disapproving. Judging.

“No,” you say.

“Good. ‘Jun will absolutely take credit for that, though,” Taeyong smiles.

It takes a second for that soft in-joke to register. The water, you remember. Dejun gave you water. Right.

Doyoung’s attention has you distracted to utter embarrassment. All the feelings you’d had at the bar, about how ridiculous it would be for a man like Taeyong to be interested in someone like you, are coming back in spades.

Of course, his friends are judging you. Of course they don’t trust you. Little old you, coming out of nowhere and inviting yourself to their brunch just because someone was nice to you.

You were invited, you didn’t invite yourself, but that logic means nothing when faced with the plain reality that at least one person at this table thinks you don’t belong here.

Two, if you count yourself.

Luckily, you don’t get much time to stew in your personal hell, because Mark shows up and saves you.

The glamour from the other night is nowhere to be found, as he slings himself into the chair beside Doyoung, cozy in a hoodie and thick glasses. It takes the attention away from you, Doyoung’s face softening as he looks up and takes in Mark’s nonstop jabber.

“-only a little late,” Mark is saying. “Hyung, you really gotta find out whose G Wagon that is, because-”

A quieter voice, right beside you, makes you jump. “Come order with me.”

You glance at Taeyong, startled.

“We order at the counter,” Taeyong says. “Come on.”

It’s an escape, and you take it.

As soon as you’re out of direct earshot – Mark’s loud enough that you can still hear him plainly, but that’s a different beast altogether – Taeyong wilts.

“I’m so sorry. I didn’t think he would be that way,” Taeyong tells you.

“It’s okay,” you say.

But Taeyong laughs wryly. “No, It’s not. Doyoung is protective and it’s sweet, but he’s spoiled by having friends who just kind of indulge his attitude. He doesn’t always remember that he comes across as a giant dick to other people.”

“He doesn’t. I didn’t think-”

“You look like you’re gonna be sick,” Taeyong interrupts.

Well, maybe you are a little nauseous from the negative attention. But it’s fine.

You honestly like that Taeyong has friends who care about him that fiercely. It means he’s earned that much love from them. Generally a good sign.

“I’m okay,” you assure him. “I just wasn’t expecting it.”

“He needs to be nicer. I’ll talk to him,” Taeyong promises.

“No,” you say. “No, he’s just trying to protect you.”

You don’t think it’s your place to explain exactly how much you simultaneously hate and understand and appreciate Doyoung’s hostility and the obvious love behind it. You don’t think you could succinctly explain it if you tried. So you don’t.

But Taeyong seems placated.

“What do you wanna eat? If you’re really okay,” he grins.

He hands you a menu.

The man behind the counter has been waiting patiently during your little exchange, but now that attention is on his café menu, he leans over the counter toward you. He’s the dimpled one who greeted you earlier. His name is stitched into the breast pocket of his t-shirt, in neat English. Kun.

“I recommend the fresh fruit pancakes, or the soy sauce pasta. Depending on your taste,” he says.

“Kunie thinks up most of the food here,” Taeyong tells you.

Kun beams at you, but the glance he sends at Taeyong is exasperated. “That’s how it works when you own a business, hyung.”

You’re perusing the menu, but your mind isn’t focused on the food.

First Johnny and the rest of the bar staff at Pado, and the way they let Taeyong behind the bar despite him not working there. Now Kun, who is apparently the owner of this café and is also going to join your party for brunch.

Two businesses in the same building, where Taeyong seems to be close personal friends with the owners and operators.

It makes sense, considering that Itaewon is a small world with an even smaller business sector, but it also makes you suspicious.

Suspicious about what, you don’t really know. But suspicious.

You decide on your meal, anyway, and you tell Kun.

“Good choice. Best dish we got,” he tells you.

“Would you’ve said that no matter what I chose?” you ask, smiling for maybe the first time since you arrived.

Kun laughs. “Hey, I wouldn’t lie to you.”

You’re digging for your wallet to pay as he teases, but Kun stops you.

“No, no. No need.”

You glance at Taeyong, but speak to Kun. “Is he paying? Because I can pay for myself.”

“Not him,” Kun corrects. “On the house.”

“On the house?” you repeat weakly. “No, I can-”

“Sorry, but it’s my café, not yours. On the house,” Kun repeats.

This is not a sustainable business model, but you can’t force the guy to take your money. Arguing is not something you feel like doing right now, so you just nod and let it go. You could slip him cash before you leave, maybe. Sneak it to one of the other staff members.

Taeyong orders several things, you assume for himself and for Doyoung. He doesn’t pay, either.

And then back to the table you go, where Doyoung has relaxed considerably with the help of Mark’s bright and boisterous company. He’s still talking about the G Wagon, as near as you can tell, and Doyoung looks genuinely interested.

“-parking permits, but-”

“I think that’s more than even I can do,” Doyoung says.

“Yeah, but I think if Johnny-hyung-”

“You need to order,” Doyoung interrupts.

It’s like he doesn’t want to be at the table with you for any amount of time.

Taeyong seems to think so, too, because he gives Doyoung a shoulder check as the other half of your party takes their leave. They exchange a look that Mark completely misses as he bounds away, calling out to Kun, and you do your best to ignore it, too.

Microanalyzing people isn’t usually your game, but then again, you’ve never met so many people at once who do things that need to be microanalyzed.

You’re alone with Taeyong again, side by side in those squeaky wicker chairs. You wish you could fully enjoy it, not so lost in your own thoughts. Not so self-conscious. How do people do this?

“I never bothered to ask, do you live far from here?” Taeyong pipes up suddenly.

“Oh,” you say, “Oh…”

He’s beaming. You take a moment to judge if telling the truth would make you sound dedicated or desperate.

“It’s a little bit of a ride,” you admit.

“And you let us drag you out again?”

You shrug. “I was interested.”

Understatement.

“I hope the food’s worth it,” Taeyong says. “But don’t tell Kunie if it’s not. He’s sensitive.”

His good humor is just so easy to fall into. You find yourself relaxing a little.

“You have work tomorrow?” he asks, next.

“Why the interrogation?”

“Last time we only talked about me and the guys. Us.”

You shift in your seat, tension leaving your limbs. “Seems like Mark loves to talk. I don’t mind letting him.”

Taeyong laughs. “Great observation, but I wanna know about you.”

The window to tell him about you is narrow, but he does his best to get it all. Your job (normal, boring, pays the bills), your apartment (normal, costs too much), all of your most recent biographical details (summarized as well as you can), he asks questions like he’s being paid to do it.

He is very strange. You like it so much.

The barrage of questions only stops when Mark, Doyoung, and Kun come back to the table hauling artful wooden service trays full of food and drink.

“I wanna go back in time and tell Chenle to go fuck himself when he suggested the wood trays instead of the plastic ones,” Kun says, as he sets down his burden.

“They’re pretty,” you offer.

“Pretty,” Kun repeats. “That’s what Chenle said. ‘Gege, the aesthetic!’ What about my sanity?”

You understand, then, what Taeyong meant. Sensitive.

It’s charming, though, and Kun is still smiling as he curses out the heavy engraved wooden trays and distributes the drinks. He gets every order correct, placing your delicate glass cup in front of you without a second glance.

The easy grace transfers right into the atmosphere, as the three men take their seats and strike up a new conversation.

Several times it strays to business things that intrigue you, names that you don’t know and situations that make you want to ask questions, but almost every time, Taeyong shuts that kind of talk down before it can go very far. That suspicion rears its head again. Baseless, itching suspicion.

These are nice boys, though, and you’re going to have a nice brunch.

--

It’s perfect, and it’s a disaster. Timing-wise.

The meal is finished.

Taeyong had just excused himself to the restroom. Doyoung and Mark are at the counter, chatting to Kun as he sorts out the register. And you’re left at the table, fiddling with your drink as one of the other staff members – short, round-cheeked – clears away the empty dishes.

“How was everything?” he asks you.

You meet his eye, with a quick diversion down to his nametag. “Great. Thank you.”

Renjun, if the embroidered name is to be believed, smiles, pushing his cute cheeks up even more. “Perfect.”

He’s stacking things carefully, and you’re ready to hand him your own plate, when the door to the café opens.

A man walks in.

You don’t believe in love at first sight.

But something similar must exist. Lust at first sight, intrigue at first sight. Something, because suddenly you’re burning with interest, blood pumping in your ears.

He’s blonde. Shaggy, fluffy blonde hair, teased into an artful mess. A singularly pretty face, strong features but a delicate impression, something between cat and siren. A lithe body under baggy clothes. On the shorter side, but you can’t imagine anyone being able to overlook him.

He lopes into the café, and he grabs Mark around the shoulders with a finely-muscled arm.

“Who-” You find yourself speaking before you can think, suddenly aware that you’re gripping your plate so tightly that your fingers hurt. “Who is that?”

Renjun glances up. He glances back at you. His expression is a picture of resignation, and amusement.

“That’s Ten,” he tells you.

“Ten.”

Obviously, Renjun mistakes your distress for confusion.

“I thought it was weird, too, at first” Renjun says with equal parts kindness and teasing, easing the plate gently out of your hands. “The name. But it suits him.”

Renjun excuses himself with the pile of dishes, then, leaving you to watch Ten and struggle with that feeling under your skin.

You only get a moment to yourself, though, because much too soon you’re hearing a shout of your name. Mark’s voice, drawing your attention. Mark is leading the other two over to you.

“-and hyungs have other plans,” he’s calling, apology dripping from his voice. “Sorry to, like, dine and dash.”

“That means not paying the bill,” Doyoung points out quietly.

Mark considers this. “We didn’t, did we?”

Doyoung rolls his eyes.

But you’re too busy freezing, deer in headlights, to appreciate the moment of humanity from Doyoung.

Ten is looking at you. Appraisal. Sparkling, intelligent eyes, a mean smile on his lips.

“Who is this?” he asks.

His voice is light. Airy. Dangerously pretty.

It’s perfect and disastrous that just as Mark begins to answer – “Oh, yo, that’s-” – Taeyong makes his return.

He drops into the seat beside you, so close that his thigh touches yours, warmth from his skin stark against the clammy nervousness of your own. You watch Ten’s knowing, probing gaze, in agonizing slow-motion, slide from you, to Taeyong.

“Hyung,” Ten says.

Younger than Taeyong, your mind registers unhelpfully.

“Did I leave my Loewe cap at your place?” Taeyong asks him, without preamble.

“Yeah. It’s on the cat tree.”

Taeyong recoils. “The cat tree?”

“Don’t freak out, you own a lint brush,” Ten says airily.

“Ten-hyung, the meeting is in, like, fourteen minutes, we gotta jet,” Mark says.

Older than Mark, you note, this time. Why can’t you think about anything important?

Ten hooks his arm around Mark again. “Fine, fine. Good to see you, hyung.”

“Thirteen minutes,” Mark says, tugging, “Dude-”

Ten turns his attention back to you, and that bizarre teasing coldness returns to his eyes as he scans you again, brazenly, up and down. “And…nice to meet you.”

Mark takes that as his exit. He grabs Ten right back, and drags him toward the door, Doyoung following with an incredulous expression on his face. You wonder, for a second, if he saw what you saw in all that.

Taeyong waves them out, seeming none the wiser to your crisis.

Once the door is closed behind the three of them, once it’s just you and Taeyong and the distant conversation among the café staff, Taeyong lets out a funny little half-laugh.

“I…also have to go to the meeting,” he says.

Now, that makes you smile. “You could have left with them.”

“I could have,” he agrees. “But I wanted to tell you that I had fun.”

“We didn’t do much,” you say, and after a beat, you amend, flustered, “Not that it wasn’t fun! It was! It just – I – you know.”

He doesn’t seem put out in the slightest, instead sliding a perfectly-respectable hand onto your knee and squeezing.

“Wanna go out again sometime?”

The next time you see Taeyong, it’s not at his invitation.

Not like he’s ignoring you, or anything. You text him plenty, and he’s even called once or twice late in the evening, treating you to a scratchy half-asleep voice that you think about for the next day straight.

But mostly, life is normal.

The only real change is the occasional invitation out.

The next time you see Taeyong in person, it’s at Pado again.

Jaehyun had texted you. It was an unknown number that had you scratching your head, when he sent you a bare-bones message in the middle of your Friday work day, inviting you to Pado that same night. It wasn’t until Mark texted to explain that it was his bad, that he gave Jae and the other guys your number without thinking to ask, that you understood.

And accepted.

Jaehyun, in the brief time you’d met him, seemed no-nonsense and clear-headed. If he wanted you to come out, it probably wasn’t a pity invitation.

Probably genuine, probably really wanting to see you. For some reason.

When you get to the bar, you find out the reason pretty quickly.

There’s a ‘Closed for Private Party’ sign on the door, handwritten in black marker on a sheet of ripped paper.

The bright little space is decked out with balloons and banners, all in a garish yellow sun motif. Only a few people, but all in party attire. Bright clothes, a lot of them yellow and gold. The bar is lined with pre-poured shots. Dress nice, be ready to drink, don’t worry too much. Those were the instructions you’d gotten. Apparently, everyone else got the same ones.

It’s a birthday party.

“A surprise birthday party,” Jaehyun tells you. “Kind of.”

He’s at the same table that you’d taken last time you were here, him and Johnny the bartender. You’d spotted them right away, when you arrived, slightly nervous and modestly early.

“What is ‘kind of’ a surprise?” you ask.

“When the birthday boy demands a surprise party and then helps you plan it,” Johnny says. “And then acts surprised when he comes in.”

You blink. “Who-”

“Haechan. Or, you probably – Donghyuck.”

Donghyuck, the bartender. From what little you know of him, that tracks.

“He’s just like that. He’s a Gemini,” Jaehyun adds, out of pocket, like he can read your mind.

“You don’t seem like the astrology type,” you tease.

“There was this one girl,” he shrugs, vague, “Couldn’t shake it even after she dumped me.”

“Tragic,” Johnny sighs.

You grin. “Who would ever dump you?”

“Girls love to dump Jaehyun,” Johnny sighs again.

You feel like that’s probably not true, but that’s a topic for another time.

“Not that I’m not happy to be here,” you say, “But why was I invited to this party?”

“You know Hyuck,” Jaehyun says, like it’s obvious.

You don’t know if meeting him once in passing could be considered ‘knowing.’ But whatever.

It’s been a long week. And honestly, it’s reassuring to know that people other than Taeyong want you around, rather than tolerating you for his sake. This whole situation is still a social whirlwind that you can’t believe.

You’d forgotten how sociable people who like to drink can be.

The bar fills up as you chat, the buzz of the crowd growing louder around you. Mark says hello when he comes in, and Kun from the café greets you with a hand on the shoulder as he beelines it to the counter. And two more men come over to hang at your table, nudging between Johnny and Jaehyun.

The first is a stranger. Long glossy black hair, a tight skimpy black vest with nothing underneath, the same caliber of good looks as everyone else you’ve met in these circumstances. Like there’s a visual requirement to get in the door.

“I don’t think you’ve met Hendery,” Jaehyun says.

“Guanheng. But Hendery is just fine,” the guy adds.

You must be making a face, because Hendery cracks a lopsided smile, showing slightly big, very straight teeth.

“International student first-world problems,” he explains. “Hendery. I like it, though.”

“It matches you,” agrees the other guy.

You peer at him closer, and you recognize the handsome face of one of the bartenders you’d seen the other day. the one in yellow. The one who flirts.

“Dejun,” he introduces himself, the name also ringing a bell.

“Dejun,” you repeat, trying to match how he’d said it, distinctly neither Korean nor English.

“Or Xiaojun. Or DJ,” he offers.

“I can handle Dejun,” you say.

He smiles. It makes his sharp nose and cheekbones look even sharper. And then he glances sidelong at his companion, taking in Hendery from head to toe, and his smile disappears so fast, it’s comedy.

“The hell are you wearing?” Dejun asks.

“I got a job at The BAT,” Hendery grins.

“Why?”

His smile doesn’t falter. “They needed someone and Johnny-hyung recommended me.”

Dejun fixes his pretty, derisive eyes on Johnny, instead. “Why did you do that to him?”

You can’t help yourself. “Is that another bar?”

“You could say that,” says Dejun.

Hendery elbows him, “Yes, it’s a bar.”

“They strip,” calls Donghyuck, passing by.

“Don’t say it like that. More Hooters, less Magic Mike,” says Hendery.

“Not the way I do it,” Johnny smirks.

His words paint a particularly vivid image, especially pared with Hendery’s scant outfit, but the alleged stripping isn’t the part that catches you.

You blink at Johnny. “Don’t you own this bar?”

“Yeah.”

“So what’s the point of working for the competition?”

Johnny snorts. “Yuta and Jungwoo aren’t competition.”

“The BAT is in the basement,” Jaehyun explains, singularly helpful.

“Of this building?”

“Three floors down from here.”

“These are also friends of yours?” you ask.

“Yeah. Jungwoo is coming up here tonight, I think. Soon,” Johnny peers around as he speaks, so much taller than the crowd.

Yet more bizarre information to file away in your mind, more names to forget in this infinitely-expanding circle of friends and business owners.

“I need a drink,” you decide.

“Shot are free,” Johnny says. “But so is everything else.”

“I’m not doing shots yet.”

“Yet,” Johnny winks.

He’s insufferable. You kind of love it.

As you wander toward the bar, you take the chance to scan the place. Taking in the other patrons of this private party, assuaging your own nervous curiosity.

In total, there are maybe forty people in the bar. Mostly men, but also more than a few beautiful, beautiful women. In the group of people nearest you, you can pick out one tall, graceful girl in a short rainbow dress, another girl in a tight silver turtleneck and a beret. You wish it only made you feel the warm pangs of admiration, but you can feel the sickly creep of comparison, too. Jealousy.

Beautiful women, to match the beautiful men that always surround Taeyong.

You find Kun behind the bar.

“Shots?” he asks you, with a greeting nod and smile.

You admire his dimples, as you reply, “You don’t work here.”

Familiar exchange, familiar bar.

“They borrowed me for the night,” he says. “Johnny-hyung wanted to get drunk, and he doesn’t drink on the job.”

“You agreed to this? Wouldn’t you rather party, too?”

Kun’s smile deepens. “It’s Hyuck’s birthday. He’s a little dictator. I was…politely voluntold.”

“And you’re a good sport.”

“I try to be. Shots?”

“Not yet,” you say, again.

You order something else, something that won’t immediately go to your head. Mixology isn’t your strong suit, but you’re nevertheless impressed by Kun’s nonchalance as he puts together your drink. He’s a barista, or a café cook, or something, and he’s slinging alcoholic beverages just as easily. Talented guy. It’s a good drink, too, in your unprofessional opinion.

When you get back to the table, pausing along the way to greet Renjun the waiter, Taeyong is there. You hadn’t seen him come in. He gives you a little smile, a pleased and catlike smile. He doesn’t seem surprised to see you. Only delighted.

The conversation, however, seems to have taken a turn.

“You got dared,” Johnny is saying. “You can’t wimp out of a dare.”

He’s leaning fully onto the tabletop, putting his height to use. Across from him, Dejun is standing pink-faced.

“I am not kissing Guanheng!” Dejun insists.

“I can make it a double-dare,” Taeyong offers.

Dejun looks wounded at the suggestion. “Hyung!”

“Why me?” Hendery complains.

Johnny just raises his eyebrows, and the implication is clear. Who else?

“Don’t be a baby. It’s just a dare. Right?” Taeyong looks at you for backup, and you raise your drink defensively.

“Not my circus,” you say.

“Not mine, either!” says Dejun, voice growing thin and shrill in his exasperation.

“If you’re worried about it being too fruity, all you have to do is kiss a girl, too,” says Jaehyun, still completely deadpan.

Hendery looks for a second like he wants to argue with that, but then he shrugs.

“That’s not how it works,” Dejun says.

Jaehyun’s dimples pop as he holds back a smile. “Sure, it is. Look.”

With a glance and a pause, Jaehyun dips to one side to peck Taeyong on the lips. Then he zeroes in on you, weaving around Johnny to get a little closer. The only girl within reach. You look at Taeyong, who’s laughing, and you decide, hell, what’s the harm. Jaehyun pecks you, too, just a brush of the lips, just to prove a point.

It makes you laugh, too.

Jaehyun focuses back on Dejun and Hendery, face a picture of serenity again. “See?”

You expect Dejun to argue more, but he just kind of nods.

“Rock solid logic, hyung,” Hendery says.

“Now it’s a double dare,” Taeyong says, decisive. “’Jun, I double-dare you to kiss Hendery.”

“I don’t want to kiss any of you!” Dejun insists.

Hendery’s eyes slide pointedly toward Jaehyun. “That’s not true.”

Dejun’s blush deepens. “I’m gonna go home, I swear.”

Part of you feels bad for the group effort of coercion, but then, part of you understands it completely. If someone reacts to teasing as dramatically as Dejun does, it’s irresistible.

“This is pathetic,” says Hendery.

They’re about the same size, same height, similar beauty and equal apprehension, but Hendery wraps himself around Dejun with something like eagerness. And surprise, surprise, Dejun’s arms immediately come up to return the embrace, an automatic action or maybe more.

From your angle, you can only see the back of Hendery’s shaggy black hair, but the nearer guys are watching with unmasked fascination as they kiss.

And it’s not a peck. It’s a kiss.

They pull apart. Dejun’s eyes are glazed over, his lips are too shiny. Johnny is doubled over, wheezing.

“Now kiss her, so you’re not gay,” Hendery instructs.

Dejun comes back to himself and sputters, “The – I’m not afraid of being gay, you guys just-”

“Then kiss her.”

Taeyong’s fingers playing mindlessly with the hem of your top make you braver.

“You don’t wanna kiss me?” you pout.

Dejun looks genuinely put out, like he’s worried about offending you. But you can tell that, really, he’s not in the mood to kiss the whole room.

Amused and endeared, you’re about to reassure him, when Hendery tsks.

“I’ll do it.”

Hendery materializes in front of you, then, a request for permission in his raised brow.

It’s nothing like the way he kissed Dejun (which, based on Johnny’s continued hysterics, must have included tongue or something). He gives you the same feather-light press that Jaehyun did, a ghost of a real kiss.

But you take hold of his shoulder, warm bare skin and the leather of his vest, and when he pulls back for a second you peer at him, hoping that he can read the mischief you’re feeling. You only just met Hendery. You don’t do this kind of stuff with people you don’t know. Or with people you do know.

Hendery understands, though, and he braces himself to lean dramatically to one side and kiss you again, deeper. Mouth slotting against yours, this time, fingers firm on your ribs and your cheek.

And ever so gently, Taeyong’s hand on the small of your back pushes you into him.

More than Johnny whooping, more than Dejun protesting loudly, more than Donghyuck’s nosy ass shouting over – “What, what am I missing?!” – you hear Taeyong’s soft, satisfied laughter.

Taeyong likes this.

Hendery laughs, too, when you finally separate. His is full-bodied, though, raucous. “Now that was a kiss!”

It seems like every person in your small circle is wearing a completely unique expression, running the gauntlet from aroused (Taeyong) to appalled (Dejun).

“Okay,” Dejun says. “Okay, I get it.”

“That could have been you,” Hendery tells him.

“That could have been me,” he agrees soullessly.

The drama of the moment passes.

Taeyong slings an arm around your shoulders. You can’t remember the last time you were held so casually. Affectionate, and close, and comfortable. He’s warm, and the gentle scent of his perfume – something light and no doubt expensive – makes the humanity of it even more real.

Kun rescues Dejun from further embarrassment, dragging him away to help at the bar. It’s fuller in here, now, more people than you would expect for a private party.

And as soon as Dejun disappears, Hendery and Jaehyun trailing away after him, others fill in the gaps.

Doyoung, wearing a pink crown and a tipsy smile, and another guy that you don’t know. They join you, Johnny, and Taeyong, the newest stranger dropping himself into Johnny’s arms.

He’s tall and wiry, fluffy brown hair nudging against Johnny’s cheek.

“Hyung,” he says, voice light and pretty and slurring just a bit. “Hyung. Hey.”

You would be paying this pretty new stranger more attention if you weren’t too busy being terrified of drunk, human Doyoung. He’s not being rude, and he’s not avoiding you. Is this what he’s really like, when he doesn’t hate someone’s guts?

“This is a good party,” Doyoung says to Johnny.

“Yeah?”

Doyoung nods, looking at you, now. “He throws a good party.”

You’re going to answer, but then you see Doyoung’s unfocused gaze slide down to Taeyong’s arm, hooked around you. The expression on his face isn’t quite as icy as usual, but he still looks put-out. Confused, a bit. His mouth opens, like he’s going to say something about it. He’s drunk, his inhibitions are down, and you’re about to hear what he really thinks. You brace for it.

But Taeyong speaks first. “Have you been enjoying the open bar, Doie?”

Like he’s being snapped out of a trance, Doyoung’s eyes snap back up to his friend’s face. “Duh.”

“These three are trouble,” Johnny tells you.

He shakes the guy in his arms roughly, making him yelp. “Hyung!”

Johnny is unconcerned. “Lightweights, all of three of ‘em.”

“I’m not,” Taeyong dismisses.

“Oh, I mean especially you!” Johnny replies.

Taeyong is indignant, “Jungwoo is so much worse. Look at him.”

Still half-limp in Johnny’s arms, the last guy pouts, mumbles, “You are so – that is so mean. You’re mean. Look at you.”

They’re not wrong, though. You can see Doyoung swaying a little where he stands, and this other guy is already flushing red all the way down his neck.

“This is Jungwoo,” Johnny says to you, shaking his captive again.

“The stripper?”

“Stripper,” Jungwoo says, still through his pout. “What have you people been saying about me? I own a business, excuse you.”

“Yuta owns the business,” Johnny tells him.

“And I help.”

Johnny just straightens Jungwoo up bodily, forcing him to stand on his own. The pout has not left his face, but you could chalk that up to his plush lips and round eyes. Maybe he just naturally looks that cute, all the time. Puppy-dog cute. You’re endeared.

“You help,” Johnny agrees, placates.

Jungwoo turns to Doyoung. “How could they do this to me?”

“Calm down,” says Doyoung flatly, unimpressed. “Go get another beer or something.”

“Hyung, my honor-”

You just watch as they bicker.

It’s odd, like every other social encounter you’ve had with Taeyong’s friends. Two of these people are in business, owning (allegedly, in Jungwoo’s case) property in this very building. You would assume, since they’re friends, that they’re in business together somehow.

Having enough money for that is difficult, but not impossible. It could be harmless, like some of them coming from family wealth. All it would take is a few fathers in big companies, knowing someone from school with a good tie to real estate. People rent buildings all the time, and it’s probably easier with friends.

But that gut feeling you keep having is back. The suspicion, the feeling that you’re missing something crucial.

Words enter your mind. Words like jopok, and chaebol.

Problems that you could be walking into, legal and social disorder that could be brewing under the friendly guise of these pretty, pretty boys in a pretty building right on the main street of one of the faithfully trendy and expensive parts of town. Not serious, necessarily, but messy. Complicated.

You could get in trouble.

But would you mind?

--

You’ve never been able to get out of your head long enough to enjoy things to the fullest.

Drinking with friends? You’re hyperaware of not drinking too much, not losing any belongings, not standing in the way or getting left behind.

Going out dancing? You want to look cool, but not too uptight, which leads to an awkward push-and-pull with yourself that is probably worse-looking than just letting loose and dancing all-out. Always aware of eyes on you. Even passing glances have you taking inventory. What are your hands doing? Are you standing normally? What does normal standing even look like?

You realize how much of a problem this is when you try to dance with Taeyong, two or three long hours into the birthday party.

He’s a good dancer.

Smooth and sexy, carelessly doing whatever feels good to the music. Every turn looks good, every smile is radiant.

You can do that, too. At home. Alone. Music in your headphones, no eyes on you.

Here, surrounded by strangers and acquaintances, you’re too aware of yourself. Too aware of how you look compared to Taeyong, next to Taeyong.

So every few steps, you find yourself freezing.

Relax, begin to dance, let him lead you into silly body rolls and let him pull you close, and then…freeze.

Too aware that there are people watching.

And people are watching.

Glances from people you don’t know, staring and laughing and teasing from people that you do. It’s not even a bad vibe, necessarily, not negative attention, but it brings your usual self-consciousness into full focus.

Donghyuck teasing you as he weaves past clutching Renjun’s hand, Hendery watching you with approving eyes as you press yourself to Taeyong’s front during an Afrobeat song, Johnny coming by to give you the strongest lemon drop you’ve ever had. Every bit of it drags you back into the discomfort of your physical space.

Taeyong must notice, but he doesn’t say anything. He just readjusts every time you retreat, lets you move closer and farther as you need. He’s so patient. He’s so nice. And you’re just…unable to match his energy.

You wish you could be anyone but yourself, as you do this.

You wish you weren’t so…

[ciaossu-imagines]

No offence but why should people have to pay for stuff from you when 99% of creators on here would post the same things for free

Well, I really debated just deleting this. I really did. Or plain out blocking this anon. Because I really do try to ignore negativity in the inbox, truly, and normally do delete it. But I'll answer this one, in a mo', after I first say...putting no offense in front of an ask that is meant to be rude, to either hurt my feelings or make me feel bad, doesn't suddenly make it inoffensive. In fact, pretty much guaranteed that if you feel the need stick 'no offense' in front of something, you know it'll be offensive, or at the very least, rude, and you're trying to excuse a dick move. Question too...are you sending this ask to every fanartist accepting commissions too, or just the writers? My guess is a solid no, but hey, maybe you can prove me wrong.

Next point - nobody should be paying me anything right now. My commissions are temporarily closed. I'm not really accepting any at the moment because I'm on day 10 of a stretch of 12 days at work before I have one day off, after which I pull another 12 days before I get 2 whole days off. I'm struggling to find time to finish the two commissions I do have and to write to build up the queue on here again so I can continue to put out things on here again. I'm pulling at least one all-nighter a week just to make progress on those two things.

Again - free stuff. Because I definitely do offer lots of that. Commissions are done on top of me writing plenty for free, not instead of. It's simply not as long, or as detailed, and has rules around what I'll comfortably write.

Now onto actual commissions. All but two of the commissions I've handled have been incredibly personalized, either match ups for the actual person on the other side of the screen or working with people's self-inserts or OCs. The two that weren't were for incredibly rare pairs that don't have a lot of people writing for them (ShouheixYata from K Project and Sherlock Holmes (novel version) x Hiruma Yoichi from Eyeshield 21. Please show me even 5% of tumblr routinely putting out content for those pairings because I would enjoy reading anything from them.

For my match ups, smutty ones are at least 5 pages, while romantic and platonic ones have never gone below 7 pages and have, at times, gone as long as 15 pages and include intensely thought out explanations of why they're compatible with that character, what the relationship would be like, how the commissioner fits into the Canon universe, and at least 3, usually more other characters they could be compatible with, how those characters would know the commissioner and fit into their story and why the relationship might not work. I struggle to find blogs willing to do matchups even half that length and intricacy so please, direct me to the 95% of writers that will do that for free.

For my stories, the shortest I've done was 10 pages where I made a whole $1 per page. The longest has been 65 pages where I made $50. They all also come with a music mix and a storyboard with alternate ways the story could have gone and at least 5 new headcanons about the OC and the ship. Please, again, direct me to the 95% of tumblr writers willing to do that for someone else's self-insert ship or OC ship for free, of that length, with the extras. Most writers I know might occasionally write a friend's OC but not just anyone's and usually not 30-60 pages for them.

Long story short, I don't force anyone to commission me. If you don't want to and just want to enjoy the free stuff, that's perfectly cool with me! If you don't like that I take commissions, block me. If you feel everything I write is so generic and boring that 95% of other writers have wrote the exact same thing, my blog isn't for you, block me.

[cheerful-sixears]

Running To Your Heart When You're Thinking Of…

STATUS: Unfinished; will most likely remain unfinished. [why? because it was started at a horrid time of my life. plain and simple.]

FANDOM: Transformers: Bayverse

PROMPT: “I pushed everyone away because they weren’t you”

SONG INSPIRATION: Sleep Token-Aqua Regia 

PAIRING: Ironhide (Bayverse) x OC (Self Insert)

After a long, strenuous drive through the city, riddled with anxiety and emotional struggles, Killian arrogantly thrusted the vehicles’ passenger door open and whimpered in a very stressed, overwhelmed manner. He said nothing as he walked over to the old, roughed-up barn on the abandoned property that he, strangely though in Keely-fashion, claimed as a “safe space”. It was an unusual choice, but it held strong feelings of safety to him, and that’s what mattered in the end. The vehicle behind him began to shapeshift-rather-transform and knelt down behind him, placing his brutish arm around Killian’s person as a barrier to keep him from moving any further away. Keely grumbled  and stomped his foot, his muscles tensed and braced with clenched fists. He turned around with an almost irate, yet pleading expression, “Just let me go, please? It’s not like you wanted to stay here, anyway,” 

The mech snorted with an irritable whirring rumble, almost offended by the young man’s words. Ironhide, his assigned guardian, stood upright for a moment, leaned down further to Keely’s

 level and held back an annoyed, rumbling growl-at least attempted to-but in the end it seemed to have slipped, “I do not understand, why are you so angry at me? Why do you push everyone away and expect me to make it better? I am your guardian, not your-” Before he could finish his heated retort, Killian stomped his foot again, and bared his teeth in what looked like….agony. Sheer agony. The emotional pain that Ironhide began reading brought a sudden ache to his own spark.

“I pushed everyone away because they weren’t you.--Optimus? Ratchet? Bumblebee? I don’t want them. I want YOU. I have this aching in my chest….it’s not physical pain…it’s this…weird, sickening feeling that i get everytime you’re around. I just want to be with you….You ever get that sensation? Where someone is literally your life because you only live to see them smile? Laugh? Maybe even cry?....You’re that person, Ironhide. You’re MY person….” At this point, Killian was sputtering and sobbing. He was near incoherent at the end of his desperate point made. Gasping, tearful and shamefully covering his face with visibly shaken hands, his anguish and anger spilled from his trembling lips in bursts of sorrowful whimpers and gasps.

Taken aback, Ironhide swallowed hard. His chords were strained as he attempted to form his next words with caution. He was lucky his previous sentence was cut short. He knew then, from experience, his words would’ve caused more damage than good. He was an expert in combat and weapon’s specialist, but a spark-mate? He never thought twice about that…with a human. It never once crossed his mind, until he thought about Killian’s words. His optics traced Keely for further emotional analysis, but he wasn’t Ratchet, so that was pretty pointless. Empathy was not his specialty, neither was human emotion, but something nagged him in the back of his processors. It was a desperate voice within the workings of his spark. It yearned for him to speak, to catch the young man before he fell. It desperately spoke the obvious phrase, “save him.”

[imaginemyshipswithme]

Story snippet from an AU of my self ship where @selinas-ships sister insert exists

AO3 link

Emlyn knew xey probably shouldn’t be wandering the castle, even if she did have some permission. Zane’s only real rule being not to go into his private quarters, not wanting snoops to acquire personal information about him. He was a generally private person. Though xey decided to entertain xemself with a walk around the castle.

Xey didn’t know what possessed xem to go a little deeper, but xey were feeling adventurous today and rounded the corner before xey spotted the staircase xey hadn’t noticed before. Curiosity had xem moving towards it, wondering where it led. Walking up the stairs, xey eventually happened upon a plain, wooden door. Xey try the knob, to find it was unlocked.

Opening the door, xey came upon what looked to be an attic of some kind. Intrigued, xey walked in and begin looking around. There were many old decorations and family heirlooms. It seemed pretty normal, if not crowded from how much stuff seemed to be crammed up here.

As xey continue to look around, xey found a large portrait lean against the wall. Xey walked a bit closer to get a better look. It was a family portrait of the Ro’Meave family. It was partially covered by a tarp, but xey could easily make out each person. Garte standing tall and stoic with Garroth and Vlad on either side of him. Zianna was mostly covered by the tarp with a younger Zane beside her. Emlyn smiled, intrigued by what appeared to be a happy royal family.

That was when something caught xeir eye. Someone’s hand seems to be on Zane shoulder and it didn’t look like his mother‘s hand. As carefully as xey could, Emlyn pulled on the tarp until it fell onto the ground what xey saw was definitely a young girl. Her hand was the one on Zane’s shoulder, while the girl’s other hand held Zianna‘s from behind.

The girl in the portrait had to be family, but xey don’t remember Zane ever mentioning a sister. With all the distain he felt for his brothers and father, xey were actually surprised he never brought her up. Did something happen to her?

(Timeskip)

Emlyn stood beside Zane as the Shadow Knights debrief him. Xey couldn’t really focus on what was being said. Curiosity plagued xem once again xey hadn’t even noticed the shadow knights leave until Zane address xem by name.

Emlyn immediately snap back to the present. “Hm? My apologies, what did you say?”

Zane just seems to sigh in slight annoyance as he looked at xem. “All right out with it. You clearly have something on your mind.”

Emlyn nearly flinched in embarrassment. Xey hadn’t realize xey were being any kind of obvious. He wasn’t going to like xeir answer, but since he asked, xey decided to get the answer xey were seeking.

“I want to start by apologizing. I may have taken the opportunity to explore the castle a bit,” xey paused, giving him a moment to digest what xey had said. He seemed only to remain neutral so xey continued. “So, I seemed to have stumbled upon your attic. My question is, who is the girl I saw in your family portrait? I don’t recall you ever mentioning having a sister.”

Emlyn waited for his reaction. Xey expected him to be mad at xem, to yell at xem about snooping around or to dismiss the question entirely. His unsettling silence did not reassure xem that he was not upset with xem. So when he finally did speak, xey were surprised when his tone was oddly calm.

He sighs, heavy and vaguely sad, "... my sister is a subject I don't often broach.” He seemed to pause trying to collect his thoughts. “Of all my siblings, Vivian was my favorite. Unfortunately, we lost her, during a storm at sea. When she died... she took the sun with her." He looked at xem with such a somber expression. This was different from when he spoke of his brothers. He must’ve really cared for her.

Emlyn felt a jab at her own heart. There was someone this man had cared about, loved even. What xey wouldn’t give to see a glimpse of what that Zane looked like. “She sounds like she was truly a treasure. I’m sorry for your loss.”

He seemed to just stare at her for a moment before he gives a dismissive huff, averting his gaze to the nearest window. “It’s all in the past now. I chose to pave way for a more prospective future.”

[practically-an-x-man]

Talk shop Tuesday!

Has there ever been a time when you wanted to write something for an existing fic so badly but it didn't fit with it really and you debated posting it separately as an au fic? Did you ever decide it wasn't worth writing anyway?

Has there ever been a time when you've been a little jealous of one of your characters? Or you give a character something you want.

Has there ever been a fandom you could see yourself writing for but you never have?

How would you feel if someone beta read for you?

Is there a certain song or playlist you listen to while writing?

I hope these questions make sense

Thank you bestie!! <3

Talk Shop Tuesday

Oh, absolutely!! I've definitely done this, and when the idea is strong enough I will write it out and post it as an AU sidepiece. Torment is an alternate chapter for Bolts and Blasters. Aftermath is an additional chapter placed in between two existing chapters of A Love Once New, and Tear Us Apart is another alternate chapter/sidepiece I wrote as an AU for the later chapters. Years Ahead is an AU from my main Eris timeline, but I thought it was such an interesting idea that I wrote it anyway.

Sometimes it's hard to choose which scene I want for the actual, canon timeline and when I just can't make something fit in with that, but when it's a really vivid idea then I absolutely will still write it out and share it. It's pretty rare that I just plain scrap an idea, at least once I get to that stage in the process.

Again, ABSOLUTELY. Each of my OCs, and most of the canon characters I write for too, are in some way a reflection of myself. They aren't self-inserts by any means, but many of the themes that are present in their stories are reflections or translations of things I go through myself. As comforting as it is to write or read one of my hurt/comfort scenes, I definitely get jealous of my characters sometimes. The big ones for me are 1. unconditional gender acceptance and 2. being cared for when they're sick/in pain/dealing with disabilities, it's both super comforting to read and also makes me a little jealous since I don't really get to experience that in my real life. And I get super jealous of Warren and any other characters who have wings/are able to fly, since I WISH I could do that.

I'm sure I could dip my toe in the Fallout fandom if I felt like it, I enjoyed the show and I think I could come up with some neat fic ideas. And technically I do have a Fallout OC... my courier for New Vegas, which I started playing and really need to get back to lol. The whole universe just has some really interesting worldbuilding, and just the right balance of darkness and intrigue that usually pulls at me for writing ideas.

I mean... I wouldn't be offended or anything, but I've never sought it out. I don't have anything against beta readers and I know they can be a huge help, but I just get so excited about posting my writing once it's done that I can't imagine waiting for someone else to read it first and delay when I get to post it lol XD

Nope! I don't really listen to music when I write, I usually just have a show or movie (or YouTube videos) on in the background for white noise. When I was in college I would actively pick something for myself (usually something I've seen before, so I can enjoy it but don't have to pay attention to understand it), but since I've been home it's mainly just been whatever my family decides to have on the TV. And when I really need to focus I'll go where it's quiet, since sometimes the silence helps me fall into the story and visualize it more clearly.

[novemberhope]

How do you come up with ocs? Do you have a process, get inspired by a certain trope, etc? - 🖤

Thank you for the question! It kind of differs, really... after watching OPLA, I just knew I had to make a One Piece OC and since I love mermaids, I wanted her to be one. That's all I had. Then I kind of decided of her looks but her name really took ages. Even her backstory came to me faster than her name. With Niara, I kind of played around with artwork a bit and looked at different stuff and there was one picture and I saw it and was like, yes, that's it, that is her, and her whole self kind of grew from there. With Azura, I kind of had a vibe and went to explore that further. Cordelia started out as a side character but I love her too much but I struggled to include her in the story at first (but some lovely anon offered helpful advice and ideas - thanks again for that!). Ellaria I had in mind for ages... her backstory is still mysterious, even to me, but after many months, she finally got a name. With Ginny, I tried many different things - she had some spoilt rich girl vibe at first but I'm so glad I didn't went with that but ended up with my rage-filled redhead girlie (who also didn't have a name for the longest time). Newest addition Midori was the "but what if I have made a marine character" choice - I kind of based her on someone I know but tweaked stuff a bit to make it fit the story.

As for my Pokemon OCs, Lark and Skye have been around for ages but were originally just plain boring self-inserts until they suddenly started to develop a bit more. I think they have so much more potential though. Calla was supposed to be a self-insert too but she kind of found her own persona. Leilani und Malea are completely different from me. They started out rather tame but I was vibing so much with them and when I was looking around for inspiration and quotes and other stuff I kind of started to take them into certain directions. They were different from what I usually wrote but in a good way.

So, to summon this up, it usually starts with a vibe... sometimes I just see a character and I'm like yes yes that's it that's it - and then I go from there. Names tend to take their time unless, like in Leilani's case, I heard it somewhere and found it so pretty that I was like yup, that's her name. I feel like back in the day I came up with the same type of character all over again but I think I've gotten better at this now and they feel more special and less interchangeable-but-in-different-fandoms.

Thanks again for your question, anon, much appreciated!

How does everyone else do this?

[kris-shinnie-pride]

Thanks for tagging meee @fortunes-unfavored !!

I didn't know if I had to make my own post or if I could reblog yours and add my answers so I decided to just do it this way:)

rules: answer and tag nine people you want to get to know better and catch up with.

favorite color: PURPLE!! I love purple:)

last song: HEAVEN SAYS (cover) by GamePlayah. Not beating the weird kid allegations

currently reading: I'm not really a reader...I like reading webtoons sometimes! I'm currently catching up with UnOrdinary!!:) It's one of my favorites!

currently watching: I'm watching House md (Currently on season 6) and I'm listening to the Sherlock & Co podcast! I like how they depict the character there! A lot less cynical than most adaptions!! Plus, the fandom is pretty small from what I gathered

currently craving: peace and quiet cause I can't deal with people for a little while but also to hang out with my best friend cause they're the only person I can hang out with without getting psychic damage

coffee or tea: Coffee for sure. I tried a lot of different teas but I didn't really like any of them. I really like some plain coffee though! No sugar or milk usually.

hobby to try: I've been wanting to start scrapbooking but I keep feeling bad about covering anything, so layering has been a bit of a challenge. Plus idk what "theme" I should do

current au: I don't write, more of a drawer, but I like fantasising about me (or a self insert character) being in different pieces of media that I enjoy and interacting with the characters! Rn I'm doing that with HSR and House:>

Nine people uhhhhhhhhh:

@strawberryjamsara @aroacesigma @changeling-droneco @tabr1-s @where-all-the-time-went @40hotdogs @a-map-of-gays @genderfluid-and-confuzled @oh-shit-i-spilled-my-genderfluid

No pressure ofc!!<3

[cloud-ya]

Kind of hard for me to admit but I think I like the world of HSR a little more than HI3RD but I think HI3 has better characters. I think their character design peaked with Sirin and Senti and character writing for Mei and Fu Hua shoot up so much farther than I would have expected when I first started the game years ago.

Bronya isn't consistently amazing, especially when she's compared to Mei and Kiana, but I think she's so intriguing and interesting on her own which is a shock for me since I didn't really consider her much in the early Honkai story.

Ur so right in that HSR is like a mix of HI3RD and Genshin because I definitely feel that. And not just because of the inclusion of playable men (not salty...😒mostly) but because they sort of take a lot of design elements they have in Genshin and just give it a sort of Honkai spin that doesn't always work (they can be very busy and sometimes they're just plainly unattractive for my eyes.)

The trend of MCs in gacha games worry me a tiny bit because they consistently have the least amount of writing, which I guess works for a self insert, but it makes them feel disconnected from the story and only their for shipping purposes. Which, like, no hate. I'm not going to yuck anyone's yum, but it feels pointless to have a MC and the only thing that makes them intriguing is a mystery that you have to sink 120 hours into before you really get anywhere.

Belobog has felt like the story with the best pacing and most interesting cast of characters. The other worlds are pretty but don't really attract me the way Belobog did, which I guess is because Belobog had so many familiar faces in it that it felt like a better Post Honkai Odyssey.

I also feel like March 7th is a little too boring to be used as the mascot for the series. She's just a bit too plain and underdeveloped to capture me outside of her dynamic with MC and Dan Heng.

Anyways! Sorry this is a long bit of rambling but I've been trying to sort out how to feel about HSR and just needed a place for that ig. Orz 🫶🏼

👍🫶