#she’s such a blank canvas it’s interesting to write about it

[winn-wynn]

Foodcourt Au !!! (Magic Modern Times)

w/ Percy, Oliver, Marcus, Penelope, and Audrey

to start it off it’s the summer before college. They all need jobs to tie them over before school officially starts

Percy works at Smoothie Paradise. He’d be really good at memorizing the recipes. Usually the only one on shift because it doesn’t get that busy. Has fought with a Karen at least once per shift. Has tons of overtime. He needs the money. Manager has talked to him at least for it but at this point lets him have his overtime. Percy is his only regular full time employee.

Penelope works at Cinnabon. She’s really extroverted and friendly with customers. Is very fast and efficient. Always on cashier. Is also the caller to shout out customers names because she has the loudest voice.

Oliver works at Auntie Anne’s. BELIEVES HIS PRETZELS ARE SUPERIOR!!! Runs his little store like a quidditch team. Fast and efficient. Will win. Believes in teamwork but will kick your ass if you’re slacking. Works very fast. Has the pretzel shapes engrained in his mind and hands. Can do it in sleep.

Marcus works at Wetzel’s Pretzels. HIS PRETZELS ARE SUPERIOR OLIVER!!! Works in the back, mostly is the one shaping and baking pretzels. Do not put him on cashier he has no patience. Probably has threatened to kick out customers out at least once per shift.

Audrey works at Panda Express. She loves cooking the back. She does not want to talk to customers. Will do it begrudgingly though. Half -Chinese, so she makes jokes at least once that she’s working for her people even though Panda Express is not authentic. (It’s really Chinese American.) She always cleans as she goes. Refuses to do overtime because of dishes or cleaning the floor. Will get out on time. She will make sure of it.

NOW FOR THE FUN STUFF

They all met on accident because they were closing shifts. They all had a similar break time and sat at the food court tables to eat.

Percy knew Oliver from school so they were eating together. Penelope just plopped herself down and declared she was going to be friends with them because she’s seen them around school. Percy and Oliver just let it happened. They were to shocked. Percy didn’t mind. Oliver was like bombastic side eyes. Penny won Oliver over by her knowledge of quidditch.

Penelope brought Audrey over. They were friends before. Funnily enough Audrey brought Marcus over because she likes drama. She just thought Oliver and Marcus has a lot in common.

Oliver and Marcus were Not Happy TM. They fought like cats and dogs. They growled at each other once. Percy was not amused. He locked them in a janitors closet and said to sort it out.

They did it eventually. They’re still rivals and agreed to a truce. They still fight though.

Obviously, Oliver and Marcus are rivals. They work at different pretzels shops. They go over and fight each other at their place at least twice per shift. Percy is unfortunately stationed next to them and has to stop their fights. Penelope is across from them and watches while eating her cinnamon rolls. Audrey watches exasperated but she can’t say shit because her and Penny bet on when Percy will snap or who will win the fight.

That’s all I have for now. Tell me if you want more !!!

Also in case you don’t read tags, which fair I write goddamn essays, im Chinese. So please don’t take the Panda Express joke too seriously. I make that joke everytime I eat there.

[pitchsidestories]

Girls Girls Girls II Ingrid Engen x Mapi Leon x Reader

masterlist I word count: 1782

a/n: You guys really came through with so many great requests for Ingrid Engen x Mapi Leon x Reader. We hope you understand that we can't write them all straight away but we'll try to do as many as we can. Based off these two requests. <3

The atmosphere in the Barcelona club was electric. Every movement done inside of it felt like a promise to an eventful evening with endless possibilities. Like a blank canvas waiting to be painted with scenes of the night.

When the clock stroked midnight, Mapi Leon curiously asked her girlfriend while nodding in the direction you were standing: “Have you seen the beauty over there?”

“Are you talking about the girl sitting at the bar?”, Ingrid Engen wanted to know smirking. The Spanish woman replied grinning:” Yes, the one with an old-fashioned in her hands.”  

“She’s gorgeous.”, the midfielder admitted blushing at the sight of you in a stunningly black jumpsuit.  

Innocently Mapi played with a loose string of her hair:” Her glass seems almost empty; do you think we should talk to her?” “I think we should order her a new one.”, the Norwegian suggested warmly.

Enthusiastically the older woman responded:” Yes, I agree.” “I’ll order.”, Ingrid decided. Smiling sweetly at her girlfriend the Spaniard answered: “Thanks.” Afterwards she approached you with a flirty smile:” Hi.”  

“Oh hi.”, you gazed surprised at the two very beautiful women in front of you. Interested the tattooed one wanted to know:” Enjoying your drink?”

“Yes, I know the barkeeper, she and I go to the same Uni, so she always makes something special out of it.”, you told her. She acknowledged that remark with a lifted eyebrow:” Oh, you do?”

“Yes.”, your cheeks turned hot under their attentive eyes. Casually Mapi went on:” What are you studying?” “The arts, I love to paint.”, you answered passionately.

Delighted the Spanish woman muttered:” So you’re an artist.” “I am. Your tattoos are so pretty. What are you and your girlfriend doing? Sorry, I think you’ve not told me your names yet.”, nervously you licked your lips.

 The older woman of the two introduced themselves: “I’m Mapi and that’s Ingrid.” “Nice to meet you both, I’m y/n.”, you remarked in an honest tone.  

A big smile lit up Ingrid’s face: “Nice to meet you too.” “Thanks for the drink.”, you mumbled gratefully lifting you glass with them before taking each a deep sip. Cheerfully the Norwegian waved it off: ”You’re welcome.”

After you three savoured your drinks, Mapi confidently took your and her girlfriend’s hand:” Do you want to dance with us?” “Sure.”, the liquor making you bold in your reply to her question.

Happily, Ingrid got up from the chair she was sitting on a few seconds ago: “Really?”  “Yes, let’s go to the dance floor.”, you said self-assured.

The defender couldn’t help but to observe the reaction of your Uni friend:”Your barkeeper friend doesn’t look amused.” “Oh. But she’s in a relationship.”, you promptly explained.

A sign of relief crossed the older woman’s face:” So she’s got nothing to worry about.” “Exactly.” “Come on.”, impatiently Ingrid pulled both of you to the place people were already dancing.

“Coming!“ You immediately started moving to the music. The rhythm of your bodies in perfect synchronisation. You completely lost focus of your own body, captivated by Ingrids elegant and Mapis more powerful movements.

Mapi winked at you, pulling you close so she could whisper in your ear; “An artist and a good dancer as well.“ You bit back a smile, relieved that your reddening cheeks wouldn’t be visible in the dim light; “You two are not bad either.“

“For football players maybe.“, Ingrid added with a laugh. “Football players?“, you echoed in surprise. “Yes, for FC Barcelona.“, Mapi stated calmly. Your knowledge about football might have been limited but you did know about the Catalan club.

Lost for words, you could only mumble; “Wow.“ Ingrid used your moment of speechlessness to change the subject. “Want to come with us to our place?“, she asked, a carefulness in her voice in case she crossed a line. “Sure.“, you answered without hesitation.

Smiling, Mapi took your hand in hers; “Don’t worry. We won’t do anything you don’t want to do.“ “No, I want to come with you. Really.“, you assured her, shaking your head. You refused to let the night end that early.

Ingrid took your other hand; “We should leave then.“ “Yes, let’s go.“, Mapi agreed, leading you both out of the bar after you gathered your jackets and purses.

You were surprised when they opened the door to their apartment to you. It was modern and chic but also very homely at the same time. You immediately felt welcome; “Your apartment is beautiful.“

“Thanks. Ingrid decorated it.“, Mapi grinned proudly. Her girlfriend cheeks went pink; “For the most part.“ “Almost the whole part.“, the defender corrected her amused. You let your gaze wander around the room for a bit longer and commented; “I love it.“

“I know it’s late but would you like some coffee?“, Ingrid offered politely. You smiled; “Yes, I’d like one.“ “I’ll make you one.“ “Thank you.“ “No problem.“, Ingrid waved it off and got to work. You sat down at their kitchen table. While you waited, you took out your notebook and started scribbling into it.

Some of your creative energy needed an outlet. You failed to realise that Mapi took the chair opposite you and watched you draw. Only when her beringed hand reached out for the page, you looked up at her. “Can I see it?“, she asked innocently.

Quickly, you covered your sketches with a hand; “No, I’m not done yet.“ Mapi tried again, giving you her best puppy eyes; “Come on.“ “Later, promise.“ “You should know that I’m very impatient.“, she warned you jokingly. You laughed; “Oh, I’ve noticed.“

“Hey. Rude!“, the defender complained. Ingrid gave her girlfriend a knowing look as she set down three cups of coffee; “No, it’s true.“ Mapis jaw dropped in feigned offense; “Ingrid!“ “Yes?“

But before the couple could continue to bicker, you closed your notebook and wrapped your hands around the mug; “Thanks for the coffee.“ “You’re welcome.“, Ingrid smiled sweetly.

After you tasted the coffee, you announced:” It’s delicious.”   “Do you want to stay overnight?”, the defender asked you curiously. Her and the Norwegian looked expectantly at you when you exclaimed:” Sure. Why not?” “Perfect.”, Ingrid sighed. B

Blushing you mumbled:” “If that’s okay with you.” “It’s.”, the midfielder nodded placing a light kiss on your lips sealing the oral invitation to stay tonight at their place.

Instinctively one hand went to your lips which were still buzzing from the excitement: ”I’ll stay then.” Gleefully Mapi clapped into her hands before kissing you aswell:” We hoped you’d say yes.”

In the morning the Spanish woman noticed, her voice still full of sleep:” Ingrid, she’s gone.”  “Yes, but she left a note with her number, she had to go to uni.”, the younger football player explained, showing her the note you left, on the other side was the sketch you did of them the previous night.

Impressed Mapi whispered:” So that’s what she was working on.” “It’s stunning.”, Ingrid admitted beaming. Suddenly wide awake the defender told her:” Give me her number. I’m going to text her.”  “Here you go.”, the midfielder responded cheerfully.

Pressing a soft kiss to her cheek, the Spanish woman replied:” Thanks.” “Did you ask her to come to our next match?”, a hopeful smile was on Ingrid’s lips.

Cheekily Mapi grinned at her: “Maybe.” More serious she added:” It just feels right with her, right?” “It does.”, the Norwegian nodded, pressing a kiss on to her girlfriend’s head.

Since that fateful night at the bar, you’ve met Mapi and Ingrid quite a few times, so naturally you accepted their invitation to come to one of their game, the defender was still injured, while the midfielder was in the starting line of today’s match.

In a low voice Jana Fernadez spoke to you after you sat down next to her:”Y/N, have you seen the photo of you three in the car going around on the internet?” “What? No, I didn’t.”, you answered stunned by that news.

Seriously the younger woman continued:” You might want to look it up.” “Thanks for telling me, Jana.”, you muttered. She gave you an empathetic smile and a pad on the shoulder:” You’re welcome.”

Only a couple of minutes later Mapi showed up with two drinks in her hands, one for her and the other for you, the defender was quickly followed by Alexia:”What did Jana show you?”

“This, they took photos of us three and put them online.”, you revealed, showing her what Jana had hinted at not that long ago. “Wait, let me see.”, Mapi urged you and took a closer look on what the photos were picturing. “Here.”

Mapis brows furrowed as she took in the clear photo of you three together. There was a hint of worry in her eyes when she turned to you; “I’m sorry. I don’t know how or when they took that.“ “We need to tell Ingrid.“, you decided, too many thoughts rushing through your head.

Again, the defender tried to catch your eye; “Ingrid will be fine but how do you feel about it?“ You shook your head, replying blankly; “I’m good.“ “Are you sure?“ “Yes, what do you think?“, you asked her.

Mapi tilted her head before answering; “I don’t mind people knowing that I’m with two pretty girls.“

“And me neither.“, Ingrids voice interjected. She smiled softly at the two of you, her hair still damp from the shower she took after the game. Mapi laughed; “I told you she won’t mind.“

You were silent for a few seconds, only now realising that these two people loved having you in their lives as you loved having them in yours. “Let’s put our own picture out there.“, Ingrid suggested, turning on the front camera of her phone. You smiled; “Alright.“

“Yes, come here. Let’s take on.“, Mapi said and pulled Ingrid towards her. With you in the middle, the two football player pressed kisses on your cheeks for the photo.

Proudly, Ingrid showed you the shots. “Okay, should we title it Girls Girls Girls?“, you asked with a smirk. The Norwegian smiled back at you; “What’s more fitting than that?“ “Yes, we’ll take that one.“, Mapi agreed, taking her girlfriends phone and hitting the post button.

There was nothing you could do but stare at the two women you had come to love so easily. The buzz of your phone in your pocket tore you out of your trance.

It was the first like on your post and it was from your bartending friend who watched you three leave on the first night you met. With a grin you thought back of the happy coincidences that led up to this moment. It must have been fate.

[ahqkas]

♯ HIS LOVE’S CREATIVE HEART ; mattheo riddle

PAIRING! mattheo riddle x fem!reader

SYNOPSIS! the love of his life was a creative soul and who was he to deny your nature? (based off this req.!!)

WORD COUNT! 3.3k

WARNINGS AND TAGS! fluff, kissing, crafty reader, muggleborn reader, lovesick mattheo

NOTES! reblogs & comments are greatly appreciated <3

HARRY POTTER MASTERLIST!

© ahqkas — all rights reserved. even when credited, these works are prohibited to be reposted, translated or modified

YOU'VE ALWAYS LOVED THE ACTIVITIES OF CREATIVITY. From a young age, you found joy in the simple act of making something with your own hands. Crocheting, with its interesting patterns and soothing repetition, was one of your earliest passions. There was something oddly satisfying about watching a ball of yarn transform into a cozy blanket or a delicate sweater under your fingers. Each loop, each stitch is a small act of creation. The rhythmic movement of the hook, the texture of the yarn slipping through your fingers, and the memories of your Grandmama were too cherished by you to forget them.

Baking, too, became a beloved creative outlet you shared with the sweet old woman. The kitchen was your laboratory, a place where you could freely experiment. You relished the process of measuring and mixing, the way simple ingredients like flour, sugar, and eggs could be transformed into a mix of flavors and textures. The smell of freshly baked bread or cookies wafting through the house was a comforting reminder of the magic you could create by your own hands. The process is both strict and freeing; one must follow certain rules, yet there is always room for imagination. A pinch of spice here, a dash of flavor there, and suddenly, a simple recipe becomes his personal favorite.

Painting, on the other hand, offered you a different kind of creative fulfillment. With a blank canvas before you and a palette of colors at your disposal, you felt a sense of freedom that was really exciting for your young heart. Each brushstroke was a gift of your inner world, a glimpse into your thoughts and emotions. Whether you were capturing the vibrant hues of a sunset or the delicate details of a flower, painting allowed you to see the world through new eyes and share your unique perspective with others.

In all these activities, you discovered not just hobbies, but a way of life. Creativity became a pair of sunglasses through which you viewed the world.

Your grandmama always believed in the magic of your creativity. From the time you were old enough to hold a crochet hook, she supported your talents with a guiding hand. Together, you spent countless afternoons creating intricate patterns and baking delicious treats in her warm home. Her kitchen became your comfort place, the rhythmic hum of the oven and the soft clinking of your crochet needles made you unbelievably happy. She celebrated each finished piece, every golden-brown loaf of bread, and every delicate painting as if they were masterpieces. 

When your Hogwarts letter arrived, the old woman was overjoyed. As a muggleborn, you were stepping into a world she could only imagine. "Think of all the magical things you will create," she had said, her eyes sparkling with pride. Though the idea of leaving her was haunting you, her open love made the thought easier. She promised to write often, and you did your best to send her letters filled with detailed descriptions of your magical adventures and the new wonders you were creating with your wand.

But letters could only do so much, and as the years went by, you missed the simple joy of her daily encouragement and the warmth of her presence.

Six years passed in a blur of potions, spells, and problem making. Your creative spirit never died, but the absence of your grandmama's physical presence was a constant ache that seemed to linger in the depths of your heart. It was around this time that Mattheo Riddle entered your life. He saw the passion in your eyes, the same spark your grandmama had always seen. At first, he was fascinated by your creativity, watching with awe as you seamlessly blended magic with your muggleborn talents.

01 - CROCHETING

The room was bathed in a soft, golden glow, the flickering light from the fireplace casting dancing shadows on the walls. The warmth of the fire created a comforting atmosphere, slushing off the chill of the evening. You and Mattheo were nestled on a plush, overstuffed couch, its worn fabric bearing the marks of countless cozy evenings like this one. The air was filled with the soothing crackle of burning wood and the occasional 'pop' of a log as it settled deeper into the flames. Evenings like these were your favorite. 

You sat cross-legged at one end of the couch, your crochet hook moving rhythmically through a skein of deep blue yarn. Each loop and stitch seemed to flow effortlessly from your fingers, years of practice and the love poured into the new project. Your eyes were focused, yet relaxed, as you followed the intricate pattern in your mind, your hands working almost of their own accord.

Mattheo sat at the other end, his body turned toward you, one arm resting along the back of the couch. His gaze was soft but concentrated, his dark eyes following the movements of your hands with a mixture of admiration and fascination. He loved watching you create; there was something almost magical about the way you transformed simple yarn into beautiful designs. It was a side of you that he cherished deeply, a glimpse into your soul that he was privileged to witness.

The common room was quiet, save for the sounds of the fire and the occasional rustle of yarn. Mattheo shifted slightly, leaning closer to you. "What are you making this time?" he asked, his voice low and warm, filled with genuine curiosity as his irises never left your movements. 

You glanced up at him, a small smile playing on your lips. "It's a blanket," you replied, holding up the growing fabric for him to see. "For my dorm. I thought it could use a bit more color and warmth."

Mattheo reached out, his long fingers brushing lightly against the soft fabric. "It's beautiful," he murmured lowly, his eyes meeting yours. "Just like everything you make." 

Heat crept up your cheeks at his words, and you looked back down at your work, your smile widening. "Thank you." 

As you continued to crochet, Mattheo's gaze never wavered. He was captivated by the way your fingers moved, the delicate dance of the hook and yarn. He loved these quiet moments with you, where time seemed to slow down, and the outside world faded away. Everything was okay for once again. 

After a while, Mattheo shifted again, moving closer until his knee brushed against yours. He reached out and gently took one of your hands, his touch warm and reassuring. "Can I help?" he asked, a playful glint in his eyes.

You laughed softly, the sound a sweet melody that mingled with the crackling fire. "I don't know," you teased, raising an eyebrow. "Have you ever done this before?" You knew the answer, but you wanted to mess with him a little bit.

His lips stretched into a grin at your words and his hand squeezed yours lightly. "I think I can manage. Just show me what to do."

You shifted closer to him, the blanket pooling in your and his lap. "Alright," you said, holding out the hook and yarn toward him. "First, you need to make a slip knot." You demonstrated the simple loop, your fingers deftly moving with practiced ease. Mattheo watched intently, his brows furrowed in concentration as he mimicked your movements.

"Like this?" he asked, showing you his attempt. It was a bit loose, but it held.

"Perfect," you praised the Slytherin boy, eyes sparkling with encouragement. "Now, hold the yarn like this and make a chain stitch." You showed him how to wrap the yarn around the hook and pull it through the loop. He followed your instructions carefully, his movements tentative but eager.

With each new step, you guided him, your hands occasionally covering his to correct his grip or adjust the tension. "You're doing great," you said, watching as he completed a row of chain stitches. "Now, let's try a single crochet."

Mattheo's initial awkwardness gradually gave way to a steady rhythm and his confidence grew with each stitch. He glanced up at you, a mixture of pride and joy in his eyes. "This isn't so bad," he admitted, a soft chuckle escaping his lips. Although his side of the blanket was a little more messy than yours, it was adorable to see him trying out your activities. 

You laughed, the sound filling his chest with warmth. "See? I told you. And it's even more fun when you get the hang of it."

The two of you continued working together, your hands moving in sync as you crocheted side by side. As the night wore on, you and Mattheo fell into a comfortable silence, the rhythm of your work and the steady crackle of the fire lulling you into a peaceful state of mind.

02 - BAKING 

It was well past curfew, and the usual bustle of Hogwarts had given way to a hushed stillness.

 You and Mattheo crept through the hallways, stifling giggles and casting glances around to make sure you remained unseen. Finally, you reached the entrance to the kitchens, a place where the house elves bustled about during the day and night, cooking and baking the delicious meals that filled the Great Hall every day. 

You tickled the pear in the portrait, and the entrance swung open to reveal the warm, inviting space of the Hogwarts kitchens. The room was a hive of activity by day, but now, in the late hours, it was quiet in here. The house-elves, always so helpful and friendly, had agreed to let you use their space for your baking adventures. Their big eyes (they were the size of a tennis ball!) and cheerful smiles greeted you as you entered, and a few of the elves lingered to offer assistance if needed, but most retreated to give you privacy, seeing you had arrived with your boyfriend, hand in hand.

The kitchen was vast, filled with long wooden tables, towering shelves stocked with every ingredient imaginable, and gleaming copper pots and pans hanging from hooks on the walls. The scent of spices and baked goods from the diner lingered in the air. The hearth, usually roaring with flames, was now a gentle glow, casting a warm light that added to the cozy atmosphere.

You and Mattheo set to work. "Alright, Chef Riddle," you said with a teasing grin on your face, helping him to tie an apron around his waist, "let's see if you can keep up."

He shook his head at you and offered you an arrogant smirk, his dark eyes twinkling with mischief. "Just try to keep up with me," he retorted, grabbing a flour sack with a dramatic flourish.

Rolling your eyes with a smile, you began gathering the ingredients for your chosen recipes. Tonight, you had decided to bake a variety of treats: cookies and pastries that had been on your mind for weeks. The house-elves had thoughtfully provided fresh ingredients, and the counters were soon laden with bowls of flour, sugar, butter, and eggs.

The first task was to prepare the dough for the cookies. You measured out the ingredients, your movements practiced and efficient, while Mattheo attempted to follow along, his competitive nature driving him to match your pace. 

"Don't forget the vanilla," you reminded him, adding a splash to your own bowl.

He nodded, carefully measuring out the extract. "Got it. How do you know so much about baking anyway?" he asked, his tone curious but impressed.

You shrugged, a smile tugging at your lips. "Years of practice with my grandmama. She taught me everything I know."

As you mixed the dough, the rich, sweet aroma filled the kitchen, mingling with the lingering scents of past meals. You stole a glance at Mattheo, who was diligently working beside you, his brow furrowed in concentration. His hands, usually so busy with his wand, were now covered in flour and sugar, a sight that made you giggle.

"What's so funny?" he asked, feigning offense but unable to hide his smile. There was no way he could. Your smile brought out the best in him. 

"You," you replied, leaning over to swipe a bit of flour onto his nose. "You're a natural baker."

He laughed, shaking his head. "Just don't expect me to start wearing one of those frilly pink aprons."

With the cookie dough prepared, you moved on to the pastries. Rolling out the dough, you instructed Mattheo on how to fold in the butter to create flaky layers. He listened intently, his usual loud temperament now tempered by a genuine desire to learn by your side. You worked side by side, your hands brushing occasionally as you passed ingredients and tools back and forth.  The house-elves had left a pot of hot cocoa on the stove, and you poured two mugs, the rich, velvety liquid a perfect complement to the cozy atmosphere.

"Cheers," Mattheo said, raising his mug to meet yours with a wink. 

"Cheers," you replied, clinking your mug against his. The cocoa was rich and creamy, warming you from the inside out.

As you wiped your hands on a towel, Mattheo’s deep gaze lingered on your face. "You’ve got a bit of flour . . ." he said softly, leaning in. His fingers brushed against your cheek, the warmth of his touch sending a shiver down your spine. 

His hand lingered there for a moment longer, his gaze dropping from your eyes to your lips. The playful atmosphere shifted, and the well-known tension filled the space between the two of you. Time seemed to slow as he moved even closer, his breath mingling with yours. Before you could fully process the moment, his lips were on yours, soft and warm, tasting faintly of cocoa and the sweetness of the evening.

You responded instinctively, your hands reaching up to rest on his chest, feeling the steady beat of his heart beneath your fingers. He deepened the kiss, his hand moving to cup the back of your head, pulling you even closer than you were. The kiss was both gentle and urgent, warming your soul and mind. 

When you finally pulled apart, both of you were breathless, your foreheads resting together. The kitchen, with its warmth and golden light, felt like a different world, one where only the two of you existed. Mattheo’s dark eyes searched yours, a mixture of vulnerability and affection hidden in his irises.

"That was..." he began, but you silenced him with another quick kiss, smiling against his lips as your fingers gripped the hair at the back of his nape. 

"Perfect," you finished for him, your heart full to bursting.

In that quiet, golden-lit room, surrounded by the warmth of the fire and the comforting presence of your sweet boyfriend, you knew you had found something truly special. The baking, the laughter, the stolen kiss – it all came together to create a moment of pure magic, one you would cherish forever.

03 - PAINTING 

The art room at Hogwarts was a hidden gem, tucked away in a lesser-known corner of the castle not so many students knew about. It was a spacious, high-ceilinged room filled with the scents of paint and canvas, the walls adorned with student artwork from years past. The large windows let in the afternoon sunlight, casting a warm glow over the space. Easels stood ready with blank canvases, and tables were laden with paints, brushes, and palettes.

You and Mattheo had decided to spend the afternoon here, taking a break from the usual hustle of school life.

"Alright," you said, setting up your easel and arranging your paints. "Remember, every five minutes, we switch."

Mattheo nodded, a grin spreading across his face. "Got it. But don’t expect anything too impressive from me. I can barely draw a straight line."

You laughed, squeezing a bit of blue paint onto your palette. "That’s the fun of it. Just go with the flow."

With everything ready, you both took your places in front of your easels. The room was filled with a comfortable silence, the only sounds being the soft rustle of brushes on canvas and the occasional clink of paint jars. You started with broad strokes, laying down a wash of color to form the background. Your movements were confident and sure, years of practice guiding your hand.

Mattheo, on the other hand, approached his canvas with a bit more trepidation. He dipped his brush into the paint and made his first tentative strokes, glancing over at you occasionally for inspiration. You smiled reassuringly, giving him a thumbs-up. Despite his self-professed lack of skill, there was something endearing about the way he threw himself into the task, determined to make the best of it.

The first five minutes flew by, and soon it was time to switch. You moved to Mattheo’s easel, examining his work with a thoughtful smile. He had started with a simple landscape, a few rolling hills under a blue sky. It was basic, but it had potential. You picked up a brush and began to add your own touches, blending colors and adding a bit of story to the scene.

Mattheo moved to your canvas, eyes widening at the intricate swirls of color you had already laid down. "Wow," he murmured, "how am I supposed to add to this?"

"Just do your best," you replied, a playful challenge in your voice.

The next five minutes passed in a blur of color and creativity. You found yourself getting lost in the process, enjoying the way your styles melded together. When it was time to switch again, you couldn’t help but laugh at the changes Mattheo had made to your painting. The Slytherin had added a few playful touches, turning a serene sky into a playful scene with cartoonish clouds.

"Nice touch," you said, grinning at him as you moved back to your easel.

He shrugged, a sheepish smile on his face. "I figured it needed a bit of character."

As the afternoon wore on, Mattheo grew increasingly confident. With each switch, he added bolder strokes and more imaginative elements to the paintings. His hesitation gave way to a sense of pride and enthusiasm that was too difficult to not return. You found yourself enjoying the challenge of working with his unpredictable thoughts, the paintings slowly turning into mosaics of your combined efforts.

By the time the sun dipped lower in the sky, casting long shadows across the art room, you both stepped back to admire your work. The canvases were a glimpse of color and creativity, showing the teamwork you put into it. The landscape Mattheo had started was now a dreamlike scene, with white clouds and pretty flowers woven into the hills and sky. The painting you had begun was equally transformed, full of charm and ideas. 

Your boyfriend crossed his arms, a satisfied smirk playing on his lips. "Not bad for a guy who can’t paint, huh?"

You laughed, shaking your head. "Not bad at all. I’m impressed."

He tilted his head with a mischievous glint in his eyes. "Maybe I’m more talented than I thought. Perhaps I missed my calling as an artist." 

"Don’t get too full of yourself, Riddle. But I have to admit, you did better than I expected," you rolled your eyes playfully at him. That was your man, after all. 

"Better than expected?" he repeated, brows furrowed as he brought a hand to his heart. "I think you mean I was brilliant."

You reached up to brush a stray bit of paint from his cheek, your fingers lingering for a moment. "Alright, Picasso. I’ll give you that. You were brilliant."

His eyes softened, and he leaned in closer. "Thanks for teaching me. I had a lot of fun."

"Me too," you replied, giving his hand a squeeze. "We should do it again."

He nodded, his gaze lingering on your face. "Definitely."

[nthspecialll]

pleasee could you yap about dutch and tilly because im sad they had zero interactions even though he saved her and brought her into the gang🙏🙏

I have had a few requests like this and I have gathered all the thoughts, but haven't been able to write them out, but let's try again🥲 And I will also try to make a full post about Tilly and the gang.

Right, so, while it is easy to find out what Tilly thinks of Dutch, figuring out what Dutch thinks about Tilly is hard due to the fact that they have no camp interactions nor does he even talk about her, but that in itself is a cue, however let's return to that later.

Tilly views Dutch as a father figure of a sort. At some point after the age of twelve Dutch found Tilly after having escaped the Foreman brothers, she was described as "the sweetest little thing we ever saw that melted even the coldest of hearts", so we can presume that she was at least still in her early teen years.

In a camp interaction we can hear Tilly talk about how Dutch brought her in, raised her, taught her to read and so on and so forth. She is grateful for this and she really trusts her, even in chapter 6 she is loyal to him, even though she is scared for her life and wonders what will happen, she does support Dutch and she justifies Molly's murder.

However, I think something interesting happened. Tilly is "part of the core gang" if you will, she is part of the main family of Dutch, Hosea, John and Arthur, or she would have been had she been a man. She does not do jobs like the boys, she doesn't do scams or similar things on a larger scale, she is a woman and she is tending to camp. It is similar to how Susan is part of the family but also often left out.

If she had been a boy, Dutch would have had a use for her, he could have taught her to be a master thief like John and Arthur, he could have had another blank canvas to make art from, but she isn't, she is a woman and thus she is kind of just put to the side, her job is chores and there isn't much more to that, it makes her uninteresting to him because he can't use her, she is just there doing the preperations needed for him to go work and he can't be bothered to think about it.

When she was young, when he brought her in, while Dutch was generally in a different state of mind we can still think of why he did what he did, and I think it was status and adventure. When he brought her in there was some adventure in it, something new and exciting, maybe even a challenge, not to mention he would know that he needed someone to mend their clothing and fix their socks and a girl who could do that and rob when times got tough was a good deal.

On a similar note, saving Tilly is a status, it shows him being kindhearted, while he is actually just helping himself and it also gives him a form of bragging rights because other gangs like Colm doesn't do it, yet he does.

All of that said, once the excitment of Tilly being a fancy new toy ran out, he discarded of her in the way he threw her over to Susan and moved along.

Tilly isn't just forgotten as a daughter by us, but also by her father himself.

Thank you for the ask! Hope it answers it and sorry tha I haven't been able to asnwer it before :,D

[noturlondonboy]

Also genderqueer Kate with yelena! What are your hc about them together?

Hi anon, thanks so much for this ask 🥰

I’ve only written about Kate exploring her gender after she and Yelena have already been dating, but I reallyyyyyyy love the idea of her already having figured it out before they meet. And here’s why! :>

(This is a THIRD try because my first draft didn’t save and my second one that I was JUST FREAKING WRITING-)

-

Anyone ever seen the post about the story idea of a girl falling for a boy and a girl and being really conflicted about who she likes more but then they turn out to be the same gender-fluid person

Yeah that’s what’s up

-first off, when Kate is so masculine that feminine stuff is uncomfy, that’s when we pull out the new name and pronouns

-drumroll please… meet Kit Bishop

-Yelena meets Kate in one of her classes (this one is a college au now I guess?) and they immediately hit it off, and Kate is crushing HARD. She already knows who Yelena is through Clint and therefore through Natasha, but they’ve never actually met, and Yelena doesn’t hear about Kate nearly as much as Kate hears about her

-later in the week in a different class, Yelena meets Kit, which is ultimately confusing. We’re just gonna pretend that a gender swap completely fools her (if that’s the right word for this) and she really just doesn’t pick up on it. But again, she really likes this new classmate, who acts so friendly and familiar with her, like they’ve already met

-it takes Kate about a week and a half to realize that Yelena thinks this is two different people. She is therefore freaking the fuck out and also so intrigued because it’s funny ok

-Yelena has a freak out and just rants to Natasha one day about these two peers of hers who she thinks she might be crushing on, but she’s never been interested in boys/ male adjacent folks and this is weird for her and they seem so alike

-“OH FUCK NATASHA I THINK THEYRE TWINS- WHY ARE YOU LAUGHING?!?!”

-she asks Kate if she has a twin brother, to which Kate says no she’s an only child, and Yelena gets the same response from Kit

-she really is kinda oblivious and delulu here y’all stick with me

-Natasha knows that these are both the same people, so any time she sees Kate/Kit with Clint and hears about them from Yelena she kinda just giggles to herself

-Kate is trying to figure out how to put Yelena out of her misery and just admit that she’s both those people, and gender is her canvas to mess with however she wants

-Yelena finally says fuck it and asks both of them out for different nights, because who says she can’t go on non-commitment dates like that? Kit nearly slips and up and reminds Yelena that she already asked him out, but then stops and remembers and is a pussy and also incredibly turned on flattered that Yelena would initiate a date with someone she thinks is masculine identifying

-but in true K. Bishop fashion, this goofball gets the dates for the dates (haha) mixed up and arrives at the cafe as Kate when Yelena is expecting Kit (and also she woke up feeling feminine- can you blame a genderqueer girly for feeling like she’ll throw up if she doesn’t put makeup on?)

-Yelena is confused as fuck for a little bit and also worried that Kate will get upset if she thinks that Yelena is just messing around

-but Kate finally decides enough is enough and just point blank goes “Yelena. Sometimes I feel more like a boy, and sometimes I feel more like a girl, and sometimes I’m somewhere else entirely. I use all pronouns interchangeably and on some days, I go by Kit.”

-Yelena just kinda stares at her for a moment and then feels real dumb but Kate is like no wait I’m actually super flattered that you thought I passed so well it’s ok

-Kate apologizes for not telling her sooner but Yelena could care less she’s just having the biggest gay panic of her life and she just blurts out that she’d like to kiss her if that’s ok

-Kate is obviously down she’s not stupid

-“soooo… are we still on for next week too?”

-they go on a few dates before Yelena asks them to be her partner, and when she tells Natasha all she gets is a laugh and a “finally Jesus fuck”

-she slips into the changing names/pronouns/titles rather easily and quickly, which is super rad. They set up a system of check ins together each morning and sometimes just periodically throughout the day. “This is my partner- *looks over* yeah, this is Kate, my girlfriend.” “I just miss them, I miss him. Yeah, my boyfriend, that cute little guy I know”

-anyway that shit fucks hard and they’re gay your honor

[a-live-wire]

The tragedy of Sky is that we never got to truly know her.

There's not that many scenes where's she's alive, and all they reveal to us is that's she's from Zaun, she's an assistant in the lab, she has some feelings for Victor and there's some idea she wanted to share with him shortly before unexpectedly dying. All this is pretty much seen from an outsider perspective.

The only scene where she's alone is the couple of seconds while she walks to the lab, where Viktor experiments with the Hexcore. The only character she has more than one interaction with is, again, Viktor, who doesn't seem to be very close to her, keeping the distance of a professional relationship, never showing any deeper interest (he call's Sky 'miss Young' even though she adresses him as 'Viktor', and either dismisses or doesn't pick up on her inviting him to leave the lab together that one evening).

When he finally sees her as another person, learning something personal about her, her dreams, from her journal, she's already dead, and all that's left is a second hand source of who she was, to construct an image of her.

According to her writings, her vision is similar to Viktor and Jayce's , as it was in the beginning. After the experiment with the Hexcore goes so horribly wrong, and with the separation between Jayce and Viktor, I think it makes sense it's something Viktor would latch on to, something that could lead him back on the 'right' track of 'helping' people, as he always wanted.

If we're going with the idea that the Sky we see in the space scape(?) is not some ghost, or a soul, but a projection, an avatar of the Hexcore, it truly chose the perfect face.

On one hand, Sky represents a vision, a cause that Viktor can get behind, but also the guilt he has for accidentally getting her killed, a complete opposite of what he ever wanted, which makes a great persuasion tool. And since he didn't know her very well personally, there's much room to adjust and tweak her personality, speech pattern, facial expressions, as needed, because he might not know if it's correct, but neither if it's wrong.

She does act more confident around Viktor in the space-scape, like a partner, more than a colleague she has feelings for (as we've seen previously, she did seem a little nervous talking to him when she was alive). There's also the detail of her ghost form not wearing glasses anymore, though I don't have any particular analysis of that.

In conclusion, the pastel-ghost Sky that haunts Viktor is, in my opinion, a mix of his projection and the Hexcore leading him where it needs him, taking advantage of the blank canvas it has access to thanks to Viktor not forming a closer bond to her before her death. She still has an impact on the narrative and Viktor, or rather, the idea of her has. But neither Viktor or us really knew her, and we never will.

[blindmagdalena]

hey, what are your thoughts on starlander/homelight? did you ever want to write about them? .

i like the ship a lot! i have two very specific fics i’ve always wanted to write, the first one being a rewrite of season 1 where homelander, frustrated with his disenfranchised squad of degenerates and drunks, prevents the deep from targeting her, and more directly takes her under his wing. it’d be interesting to see him take a more hands on approach with someone who isn’t only new to the team (a blank canvas for him) but who’s got genuine goodness in her. how he might see a small piece of himself in her ideals and her history of exploitation.

i always thought it was a shame that homelander became a villain to starlight before she really got to know him at all as a hero. i really want to explore what a more gradual reveal of the true nature of the seven would look like for annie, and the deconstruction of a man she likens to jesus.

the other fic i’m interested in writing is a more thorough expansion of the fake dating arc in season 3. it’s no secret that i found the avenue the show took a downright shameful lack of potential, and i really want to walk annie through finding out the truth of homelander’s childhood and the extent to which he is also a victim of Vought. the show rarely ever gives our heroes the chance to reconcile people who are both villains and victims.

[i-literally-cant-with-this]

A/N ::: New writing territory alert! I haven’t written anything like this before. And I’ll tell you all a secret, *I fucking loved it.* I hope you guys enjoy this, too. Thanks for reading!

C/W ::: Sex, themes of violence just in case. MILD SPOILERS FOR MHA (Between Endeavor/Shoto/Shoto’s mom), angst, cheating, terrible terrible parenting, dom(ish?)!Endeavor, size kink (?), “say my name”, praise, degradation (self-deprecation, too), pet names (firefly, good girl & others) “daddy” talk, little bit of biting, orgasm control, F->M oral, deep throating // (forceful) throat fucking, teensy bit of dacryphilia, hair pulling, face // chest cum shots, (heavily & non-verbally) encouraged cum eating, Shoto going in after Endeavor on F!reader // girlfriend // fuck toy. Whew! If I missed anything, shoot me a message. 

WC ::: 3500+ (but not too much over)

It was after the Christmas party at your house and the only people left were your boyfriend, Shoto, and his dad, Enji. AKA Endeavor, the now number 1 hero. The two men stood there and stared each other down. Shoto and Enji have a shit relationship, to say the least. He was a shit dad and Shoto hasn't yet been able to at least move on from his childhood. Watching his mother get thrown around like she was nothing more than a dirty towel to be tossed aside. No, he wasn't ready to let his father into his life fully, just yet. 

They stood across the large kitchen island, glaring at one another. Their arms folded across their broad chests. Neither one is willing to make the first move. You hated that they were behaving like this at your house. And you hated how you felt about both of them.

You were in love with Shoto. But you were in lust with his father. And you'd been sleeping with both of them for some time now. It's a miracle Shoto hasn't found out about you fucking his dad. Enji has no real feelings on the matter. You're not even sure if he has real feelings for you, at this point. You love his son. And there wasn't much in the world that could change that. But you crave Enji's cock.

"I just don't understand why you're still here, Endeavor." Shoto called him out by his hero name. "The party is over. You're free to go now. And maybe next time just stay home, yeah?" You looked at Enji, waiting for his reply. He just leaned there, against the counter he fucked you on 3 days ago. Not a twinge of guilt in his turquoise eyes, not a hint of interest in what his son was saying to him. Still. 

"Sho?" You said more quietly than you intended to, hoping to break the tension between the two. "Do you want to take a walk, maybe?" He shifted his eyes toward you. Shoto stared, a steel gray eye and a turquoise eye, like his father's, burned into yours. So much anger radiated off of his body that you could almost feel it from where you were standing near the kitchen door. Shoto nodded his head and went to the living room to grab his coat and put it on as he walked toward the door. "You ... D'you want me to come with you?" You hated that you hated asking. 

And it wasn’t because you didn't want to go with him out into the cold. The disgusting truth was that you didn't want to miss the opportunity to be alone with his dad. And you felt dirty about all of it. Shoto fucked you earlier in the day before the party. His cum was probably still oozing from your hole. If you concentrated hard enough, you could most likely feel it leaking out with how full you were from him. 

He stayed by the front door for what felt like forever, just looking at you with no real emotion on his face. Just a blank canvas staring back at you before he shook his head no in an almost indistinguishable manner. Then he slammed the heavy wood door behind him. You fell onto the nearest chair and held your face in your hands and began to cry softly. What about, you weren't sure. The fact that you felt relief at having time to be with Enji again or the fact that you didn't have to play referee in your own home. 

A wide, hot hand ran down your back and rested at your waist. "He's gone. For how long?" Enji asked. You wanted to melt into his touch. To jump over the chair and wrap yourself around his broad body. "I don't know, En. He could be 5 minutes, he could be 5 hours. And I think, I think that you should go, too." His lips curled into a wicked smile. "Now, firefly. You," he kissed the side of your neck hard and ran his oversized hand around your waist, "surely don't mean that. I can tell by how you're sitting you want me to shove my cock in your drippin' cunt." 

Fuck. How can he tell that by how you're sitting? The asshole. He had come to know you so well in such a short amount of time. Almost as well as his son. It was a little nerve-wracking that they could both see through your shit. "Enj-!!" He was lifting you before you had a chance to protest his advance. 

You wrapped yourself around his body. Your legs spread from the girth of his hips - despite them being narrow and angular in their own way. He was a big man. And it was so hard for you to tell him no when he was like this. It was painfully obvious how hard he was. And it was obvious to him how wet you were getting from just him hoisting you up like you were nothing more than a doll for him to wet his dick in. 

The way he made you feel so small was a sickening and growing obsession. You both have managed to keep it from Shoto thus far. But on days like this, when you have no idea when he would be home, it was a dangerous game to play. "En ... fuck. We can't. Sh-Sho- shit. He can walk through the door any second." You said it in such a whiny voice it made his cock twitch against his thigh. "Let him. Let him see what it looks like when a real man fucks his girl. Who am I, firefly. Who, nngh," he adjusted you on his waist and started to carry you down the hallway to a bedroom. "Who am I." 

His hands gripped your ass tightly as he kicked the door open and walked through it with little space to spare. "Enj, fuck. C'mon. Please ..." Your resistance was dwindling quickly as he got you closer to the spare bed. "Who's 'Enj'? Tell me ... exactly who ... the fuck ... I am. You little shit." He whispered against the shell of your ear. His hot breath sent shivers through your warming body. 

And just like that, 3 words later, you were gone. Wrapping your arms around his neck and anchoring your heels on his ass you pushed/pulled yourself up onto him even further and ground against his pelvis. "There she is. There's my good girl, rubbin' that cunt against me. So needy for this fat cock, huh?" He leaned over you as you hung from him just a few inches over the bed. You clung to him like a desperate little baby. Enji waited for you to let go and lay under his huge frame. 

You ran your hands down his back to the waistband of his dark blue slacks and slid them inside of his pants. His off-white cashmere sweater was a wild contrast to his rough hands and scarred body. But all of him felt good to you.

His body framed you against the small mattress. You lay there beneath him, trembling in anticipation of what he's going to make you do. "Take it ... off." He whispered again in your ear while he lifted himself up from you. You sat up and began to undress. He took off his own clothes, one piece at a time, watching you all the while.

He was so ... And it was so … wrong that you were about to fuck him in your own house. While your boyfriend was out in the cold. "Fuck," you whispered, shaking your head as you slipped your bra off and flung it to the floor. "Fuck it, En." You pulled him down to the bed with you and kissed him hard.

The smell of his cologne and the taste of his tongue made you high. It made you want him more than you wanted to admit to yourself. The heady fragrance had you so wet that you could barely look him in the eyes. "Well," he said in a low growl. "Lookit what we have here. My little firefly is so fuckin' wet for her pissant of a boyfriend's dad, huh? Shame on you, girl. You're so dirty for this, aren't you? Fucking filthy little bitch, hm?"

You bit your bottom lip, it felt like you were nearly drawing blood. Finally, you nodded your head and looked up at him and whimpered so pathetically. "Yessss, daddy. 'M a filthy little bitch. I'm disgusting … hnngh, please, Enj- please Endeavor, fuck me. Oh god, fuck … meee-uhhh." You were babbling and begging him to do something. Anything. You just needed his cock in you.

Your fingers dug into the flesh of his shoulders as he leaned over you and rubbed his cockhead against your clit. "That's it, baby. So wet and ready for me. Let daddy fuck you. Let me fuck you better than my little runt of a son can." He thrust into you quickly and you cried out as your body struggled to adjust to the immediate stretch.

"Shhhh, shhh, baby. Be a good girl and take this dick. Fuckin' take it, baby. You can do it." His hips worked quickly and furiously as he slammed into you. Your legs trembled and your back arched as he fucked you with a fervor you didn't know existed in him.  "Fuckohhhhfuck! En-Endeav-fuckfuck!" He bit your neck hard and you moaned into his shoulder as you came around him.

He flipped you onto your stomach and grabbed your ass, pulling you up onto your knees and spreading your legs open. "Now that you're all warmed up ..." You braced yourself for the intrusion, but his cock slid inside of you with ease. The copious amount of slick he dragged from you made it nearly free of any resistance. "Ohhh, yeah. That's my fuckin' girl. Take it, take it like the nasty whore you are. C'mon, fuck that fat ass of yours into me, firefly. I wanna watch you bounce back on my cock. Fuck, that's it."

He leaned back and watched you work your body back and forth, pushing yourself onto his cock and then pulling back. "Fuck, baby. You're so good at this. You're so good for me. Keep going, fuck that cock. Mm-hm, back into me, fuck, fuuuckk yeah." You felt filthy as you did as he told you. The way he was watching you bounce and fuck yourself on him was enough to make you cum again. 

He pulled you back up to him and wrapped his hand around your throat. "Oh, you think you can cum without my permission, huh? You little slut, you can't do shit until I tell you to." You whimpered and nodded your head, trying to say sorry. "Don't ... fucking speak. Just open your mouth and let me fuck it."

He pulled out of you and stood at the edge of the bed, motioning for you to scoot around and lay in front of him. You moved over so your face was just under his cock and he tapped the head on your lips. "Open up, firefly. 'M gonna fuck your throat now since you can't seem to control that cunt of yours. C'mon, pop that tongue out f'me. Say 'ahhh' and relax."

You stuck your tongue out and opened your mouth, looking up at him with what you hoped was a look of submission. He smirked down at you and ran his fingers through your hair. "Good girl. That's my fuckin' girl. Take it, take … aha, shhiitt … it." He shoved his cock into your mouth and fucked your throat. Your eyes watered as he thrust against the back of your throat.

You coughed and gagged, but he kept going. "You know I love watching you cry, little girl. Keep it up and I might just cum in your mouth for you. Y'wan that? Huh? Want me to make a mess of your pretty face?" He pushed himself further into you and you gagged again, nodding your head. "Goddamn it, girl. You're so fuckin' dirty for me. I just can't get enough of it. You're so fuckin' lewd."

He pulled out of your mouth and grabbed a fistful of your hair, pulling your head back as he shot his load onto your face and chest. "Ohhhh, fuck! Fuck, that's my little bitch. Lookit you, so filthy and used. You're such a whore, little girl. Such a dirty whore." He ran his finger through his cum on your cheek and pushed it into your mouth.

You sucked his cum off of his fingers, moaning as you did it. He grabbed his clothes and pulled them back on. "Thanks, firefly. See you next time." He grabbed you by the back of the head, kissed you hard on the mouth and left the bedroom, closing the door behind him. You heard him leave the house and you fell back onto the bed, breathing hard. It took you about 10 minutes to regulate yourself. Replaying the events that had just unfolded in your foggy mind. 

You didn't have much time to think about it before you heard Shoto's keys in the door. So you jumped up and ran for the shower across the hall. "Firefly? I - I'm home. Where are you?" Shoto asked as he hung his coat and dropped his keys on the entryway table. "Is the old man gone? I didn't see his car, so I'm hoping ... hoping he is." He saw you dart across the way to the bathroom and heard the water turn on. "Hey. There you are," he said quietly. "D'ya mind if I join you in there? 'M freezin' my ass off." 

Hell. Of course he wanted to shower with you. "Yeah yeah. Sure. Just give me like 10 minutes to wash the day off of me, ok, Sho? I just, I feel ... icky. After the party, I mean. Just wanna clean up. And then you can stand under the hot water, ok?" He smiled and tried to lean in to kiss you but you pulled back and looked around the room. Smirking, you said, "Ah-ah-ah mister. There's no mistletoe in here!” And laughed like a stupid girl who wasn't fucking her boyfriend's asshole of a father while he was out in the freezing weather. Away from his home, just to get away from his dad. 

"Ohp, ya got me there, firefly. I'll have to pick some up in that case. Just let me know when you're ready for me, ok?" You smiled and blew him a kiss feeling your hand stick to the cum that was nearly all dried now. Turning on the shower you tested the water. Briefly contemplating turning the heat all the way up and scalding yourself for being such a whore. But you decided against it, knowing you'd have to explain it to Shoto later. And you just couldn't bring yourself to hurt him that way. Not even after what you just did.

He was waiting for you in your bedroom, scrolling through his phone, when you called for him. You stood with the shower door open and motioned for him to come in with you. "You ok, baby? You seem, I dunno. Off." He pulled you into his chest and kissed from your shoulder to your neck, to your lips. "Yeah, I'm fine Sho. Just tired, I guess. I hate when you and your dad go head to head like that. I mean, I know you didn't fight like you usually do. But I just hate to see you so upset." You look up and rest your forehead against his, sighing heavily. 

"I'm sorry, firefly. I know. I just, he just ... He's such a fuckin' prick and I don't know what else to do with him. He just, he's so much easier to deal with when you're around. I dunno why. It’s like he’s less of an asshole when … huh. Well, when you’re there. I guess he must really like you." He kissed your neck and ran his fingers through your wet hair. You turned to face him and held onto his waist. "I love you, Sho. I love you so much." He looked down at you with a sad smile. "I know you do. And I love you, too." He pulled you up and kissed you deeply.

The taste of your own cum was still in your mouth from swallowing Enji's cock, but Shoto didn't seem to notice. He was just happy to be back with you. You both laughed as you played in the water. Teasing one another and fooling around. "Hey, Sho?" You said as you pulled the shower head down and rinsed him off. "Hmm?" He closed his eyes and let you do whatever you were doing. "Merry Christmas. I'm glad you're here with me. You're the best thing that's happened to me in a long time." You turned the water off and stepped out of the shower, grabbing a towel and wrapping it around you. "Merry Christmas to you, too, my love. And I'm glad I'm here with you, too."

You kissed him and then grabbed another towel for him. He wrapped it around his waist and followed you into the bedroom. As you passed into your room, you caught a glimpse of yourself in the mirror. Your mascara was running and your eyes were red. The bruise on your neck from Endeavor was still visible and you hoped like hell that Shoto didn't see it. Though you don’t know how he could possibly miss something like that. So large and new. 

You turned to him and smiled. "Hey, Sho? Could you bring me something for pain? My head is killing me right now." He nodded and left the room to grab something from the kitchen. You went to the mirror and stared at yourself. "You're a fucking whore," you whispered to yourself. "And you can't stop it." You knew it was true. You just hoped you could keep it from Shoto for a little bit longer.

"Hey, here you go, baby. Take these and lay down. Let me get you something to drink. Do you want me to bring you anything else?" You smiled at him and shook your head. "No, Sho. This is all I need right now. Just you and me. Here. At home." You took the medicine he gave you and watched him leave the room. You curled up in your bed and covered yourself up, feeling so guilty and so fucking gross. It made you feel sick. And it made you feel good. You were just a whore. A filthy, disgusting whore who was in love with her boyfriend and in lust with his father. And you had to live with it. You had to live with the fact that you weren't strong enough to stop yet. 

Shoto came in and took the towel off of his waist and crawled into bed with you, scooching up next to you really close and nuzzling his face into the curve of your neck. “How does your head feel, firefly? Is it any better?” He asked as he began to kiss your collarbone and roll your nipple with his thumb and finger. “Is there something else I can do? To make it go away? Like …” He slid down the bed. Under the covers and between your legs and you felt him lick a fat strip up your slit. “Oh, Sho- ffuucckk, baby, I - hnngh … please … d-don’t …” Tears pricked your eyes as you felt him spreading you open and sucking on your clit. He laughed, “You’re so wet already. You gonna say ‘don’t stop’? Don’t worry baby. I’ll never stop. Never.”

You realized that you just wanted to be loved. You close your eyes and indulge your sweet boyfriend with his love of eating your pussy and prayed that it would all go away. That it would all just disappear. And that you would be free. Free of the guilt and the shame. And the lust for his dickhead father. You just wanted to be free of it all. And you didn't know if you could. Not yet. So you just lay there, basking in the warmth of your lover and his tongue lapping at your juices (and some of his father's) like he truly knew what it was like to be thirsty. And you rode out your orgasm. Crying tears of guilt and regret and only a little bit of pleasure. And you waited for it all to be over. But deep down, you knew it wouldn't be,

Not for a long, long time.

Taglist ::: @arlerts-angel @darkstarlight82 @callm3senpaii @millennialmagicalgirl

[peachshadows]

Hey hey! While moving some of my writing around, I found an old draft of a version of your Sundown AU based on an idea from centuryberry about an apocalypse. It was MK only, since I didn't (and still don't) trust myself to get A-Dan's character quite right, but I was wondering if it would be okay to continue that? I can't remember if I asked before and wanted to double-check-in again.

Sure!! That sounds really interesting but make sure to credit me and berry!

Honestly A-Dan's characterization is more of a blank canvas like she has a lot of potential to be something you want her to be but as of now she's just a baby who loves her family and is mischievous like her parents :]

[elliedearest]

Do you take requests?! If so.. Imagine being a student of professor snape's (or fellow teacher if you're not comfortable with that) and always being a bit cheeky such as chucking in innuendos during class, leaning in really close to him, cornering him in dark hallways to ask 'educational related questions' and one day when you're both alone you basically end up just jumping each other's bones? Thanks!!

I meant to answer this with a story when I first received this request, but roughly afterward JK showed her true colors and I lost all interest in writing anything for HP.  However, I didn’t want to delete it because you took the time to request this and I felt guilty.

So I thought I would share how I would have handled this request. 

I’d make the reader a fellow teacher and set during the Triwizard Tournament so they’re a foreign teacher. I’d think it’d be hilarious if the reader was from Beauxbatons because, after the dancing display, he might write them off as silly and frivolous and not worth any attention. Though to be fair, he doesn’t like Durmstrang either. 

The reader is friendly and flirts as frequently as they breathe and hardly mean anything by it.  If they can flirt with Dumbledore, they can flirt with anyone. This, of course, doesn’t win them any favors or good opinions from Snape but the reader doesn’t know. He’s not really on the reader’s radar until a random day in October when the reader is having a lovely conversation with some of the Hogwarts staff when they tell the reader about Snape being notoriously hard to make smile or even seduce. The reader is intrigued but doesn’t think much of him until they actually have an encounter with him.

He’s not condescending which would have immediately made him enemy number 1 in the reader’s eyes, but he was slightly rude. There was something amusing about the Potion Professor’s attempt at showing decorum (Because McGonagall will kill him if he ruins relations with the schools when she coordinated most of this with the Ministry) but also showing his disdain. The reader casually throws him a flirty line to see what he would do and they’re amazed at how quickly his face blanks like an unused canvas. 

And then he walks away. 

The little interaction was amusing but the reader moves on with their life because they have students to take care of in a foreign place. They do, however, wink or flutter their fingers at him when they pass each other in the halls but the reader doesn’t approach him again.

The reader, however, is put in a situation where they need a potion done for a class and while they have most of the ingredients and are fairly decent in potions, it requires an advance and steady hand. They go to Snape. As payment, the reader brings a cactus to him(a cactus is great for many medical potions from detox or purifying the air to lowering blood pressure and cholesterol). Snape does it for them and the reader cannot resist flirting with him a bit. Snape gives them a sharp but witty reply that has them laughing.

This moment opens the floodgates for the reader. They decide to actively flirt with Snape. Not necessarily as a challenge but the reader wants to see what kind of response they’ll get the next time. It goes on for weeks. The reactions range from eye rolls, acerbic quips, a blank stare, a glare, etc. etc.  During this time, they do end up hanging with each other more and more first out of necessity (there’s a lot of potions needed for what the reader does and the carriage is not the best place to do them in so the reader uses the potion room) and then out of a tentative comradeship.

The student body and the professors quickly become aware of the crazy wixen that is flirting with the Potions Professor. The Weasley twins have monetized on the situation and are making a lot of money from students guessing how this would end. Some think Snape would hex them when he got tired of the Beauxbatons professor, most think he will humiliate them so badly that the professor will head back to France.

No one thinks Snape will flirt back. Except one. 

People were expecting something to happen at the Yule ball, but the two professors didn’t interact at all. Snape spent his time prowling the courtyards, ruining make-out sessions. While the reader was stuck in their room, finally succumbed to sickness because of the harsh Scotland conditions.

He visits them later, once all the children are in bed, with potions to help alleviate their symptoms. The reader is grateful. He’s slightly uncomfortable with the gratitude and tries to leave quickly. The reader stops him asking if he would stay for a bit. They hadn’t seen anyone in two days and they were growing bored of sleeping all day. Snape begrudgingly stays.

The reader asks what he had done at the Yule ball and laughs when Snape informs them about being forced to dance with Trelawney. He accidentally mentions the students he caught messing around and prepares himself to be flirted with, but the reader doesn’t take it. Instead, the reader asks if he was using the cactus they gave him. Snape is surprised but tells them about the potions he’s working on and the thief he has this year who keeps stealing his potion ingredients. The reader tells him they’ll keep an eye out. 

The reader decides to stop flirting with the guy after they hear a conversation between Snape and Dumbledore. The reader never wanted to make him uncomfortable now that they consider him a friend. So, they stop. They’re still friendly and still hang out with him in his potions room, but no more romantic undertones. 

Snape is completely thrown off by this and sends him into a spiral that he doesn’t understand. He should be happy but he’s not. It goes on for weeks and he’s starting to miss it. 

They’re in the staff room. The reader is grading papers while Snape is trying and failing to read his book. Snape approaches them and asks if they want to play chess with him when they’re done. The reader immediately agrees, wanting to take a break from grading, and joins him on the other side of the room. He attempts to flirt with them midway through the game. 

At first, the reader doesn’t register what’s going on, but then he does it again with this look in his eyes, and then, the reader understands. They’re completely floored. And flustered. Snape is smug by this. Doubly so when he also wins the game. 

Snape decides to turn the tables on the reader and finds it intoxicating and fun how flustered the reader gets. He ends up kissing them in his storage closet when they suggest a dark and barely legal spell to track whoever has been stealing from his closet. 

“If I’d known it only took listing dark spells to you to get this kind of reaction, I would have done it so much sooner,” the reader said breathlessly, before pulling him into another kiss. 

And they live happily ever after!

Until the Dark Lord rises.

(As for the bet, all the students and staff that took part lost, except for Dumbledore. He bet that Snape would return the flirtation.)

[jennandblitz]

inspiration

Sirius flips through his sketchbook, sighing softly. Everything he’s drawn recently has been utterly lacking in any kind of spark. Even his favourite things to draw are falling by the wayside, they look stiff and ugly, lacking in life. Art school is harder than Sirius expected—his muse has always been fickle and he’s always been a slave to it, but having to consistently turn out this much work without any real inspiration is hard.

He’d nearly skipped this life drawing class, wanting to stay at home and daub paint uselessly on a canvas until it started making sense, but he’s here now. The door to the studio opens and the lecturer starts talking, introducing the class. Lily is sat beside him, already doodling away with a pencil in her hand and another in her hair, already engrossed in drawing something from that lively imagination of hers. 

Who do you think our model will be today? Lily writes on the corner of her notebook, tilting it towards Sirius. That opera singer was cool.

Sirius hums, flipping to a blank page. Honestly anyone interesting. I’m so stuck.

Lily gives him a sympathetic look as she bites at the end of her pencil, tutting softly. 

The door to the studio opens once more and Sirius looks up to the sound of scuffling feet on the hardwood floor. His jaw drops. Standing there is the most stunning man he’s ever seen—a mop of curls crammed under a beanie, a crooked nose, a shy, crooked smile. To anyone else, Sirius’d wager he looks unassuming, passable in fact, but Sirius can already feel his fingers itching with the urge to draw. He can’t take his eyes off of this man.

“Alright everyone,” the lecturer says, but Sirius has already flipped to a new page and started a sketch of that face. He hasn’t even thought about the fact the man is going to get undressed shortly, or anything beyond that face, full to the brim with inspiration. “This is Remus.”

@wolfstarmicrofic

[tangyangie]

Hii I saw u write a karma x reader with a entp gf.. and it was veryy good :)) i even followed u lol

i was wondering if u could write a reader x karma with a isfp gf.. she's very sweet, kind, artistic and likes taking care of others.. she's extremely insecure and hates that she's too shy and allergic to the word no 😂 lol...

She has been feeling a bit insecure about herself and hates herself because of her failures in communicating with others 😭 soo can u write general headcanons and also him comforting her

I'd really appreciate it if you will write this... it's ok if u don't wanna thoo

Thanks :D

blank canvas, blank mind

description. karma x isfp!girlfriend

genre. fluff / comfort

notes: i couldn't tell by what you wrote if you only wanted headcanons or if you wanted a scenario too.. so i did the scenario!! i hope you enjoy <3

— h e a d c a n o n s —

— he likes to take care of you. you relax on the couch as he throws numerous blankets on top of you as he tells you how much he loves you.

— he gives you things. whether that's paintbrushes, pencils, or plushies, you have an overflowing supply of these items. you're running out of places to put things.

— he's always with you. he simply doesn't want you being taken advantage of. he knows how much you hate saying no to people (even if your life is basically in jeopardy), so he's saying it so you don't have to!!

— he constantly compliments you. if you're insecure about your body, personality, interests, those worries will be fine in literally no time at all. he's great at distracting you from what makes you anxious.

— he's always watching you. not in a creepy way!! you just fascinate him. he could stare at you for hours and never get bored. you're just so pretty with your movements, especially when you're letting your creativity shine through.

— he gives you people lessons. he knows you're not great with interactions. he knows your troubles with communications with—well, anyone. so, the most illogical thing to do is help. so, he's constantly trying his best to help you in this kind of thing.

— s c e n a r i o —

you're staring at the wall.

thinking.

about anything—and everything.

thoughts keep filling your mind about your earlier occurrences. the things you said, if you made any weird faces, if you did anything at all that might tell someone you're doing something wrong.

"y/n? are you listening?" a certain redhead asks, brushing his hair away from his eyes so he can look at you properly.

"huh?" you spin, your eyes obviously puffy and tearing up. "yeah, sorry. what's up?"

"hey.. are you okay? did something happen? do you need me to shove wasabi up someone's nose? some habanero peppers, perhaps?"

you give a little chuckle and shake your head. "not today, karma."

"well, then.. what's wrong? you're acting unusual." he says with worry in his voice, carefully jumping backwards onto the bed to sit next to you.

"i was just.. thinking." you sigh, swinging your leg back and forth.

"...about?" karma asks, raising an eyebrow.

"it's just—uhm..." you begin, not knowing how to get the words out.

"i know i act weird around other people. but.. is there something i do without knowing that might make someone dislike me?" you blurt, still a little unsatisfied with the execution of the sentence.

"woah, where's this coming from?" he says, getting off the bed to place a hand on your shoulder. "what's going on?"

"i.. i just always feel like i've done something wrong. after i hang out with my friends, i can't shake the feeling that they'd start talking about me because of something i did." you spill, closing your eyes and resting your forehead in your palm.

"...i'm really sorry. but, i don't think you've done anything wrong, y/n. you're the kindest soul i've ever met and you're the reason i'm not in jail right now." he says, dead serious.

"still.. i just wish i could communicate with them better. i never know what to say to them when i want to talk." you say, looking back up at karma.

"i just wish there was something i could do about it." you say, concluding your point. you felt helpless.

"hey, it's okay. you can always work up to speaking with them directly. just stay out of your own head. you're amazing, y/n. there's absolutely nothing wrong with you or what you can do." he smiles at you, hoping to encourage you at least a little bit.

you wipe the back of your hand on your face, trying to get rid of the tears that had been spiraling out. "are you sure that they'll react well?" you sniff.

"y/n, there's nothing i can do to guarantee that. but, i do blue that they're not worthy of being your friends if they react badly to you wanting to talk to them." he says calmly, caressing your face with his thumb.

"just keep in mind, i'll be with you every step of the way. you've got this. and i'll have wasabi in my hands."

notes: i really searched my mind for this 😭😭 it was fun to write though!!

[jellyfitzjelly]

Honestly I am really unsatisfied with the way DC has handled Nora over the past decade. Nora was never truly a character; she was essentially the motivation of Mr Freeze and an essential part of his backstory but we never get to know her. The rare flashbacks we get are from Victor's point of view.

DC has tried to remedy that, notably by making her villain in both pre and post-Flashpoint timelines (I am excluding here New 52). I find the move incredibly dumb. Not only because the change is useless, as we have never seen Nora alive and well before that, but also because imo this is lazy writing. Rather than take the risk to change Freeze as a character, the writers decide to essentially keep him the same but separated from Nora which effectively makes him hollow.

I have no hope for Nora in the main, current timeline but I would like to see her have her own miniseries set in its own timeline. Perhaps a DC Black Label run. Nora as a character is essentially a blank canvas and comes with many possibilities. Stories centered around her could talk about illness, grief, death, examine illness and gender... But I think that for a story like that to work, Freeze would have to be absent of the plot, lest the story once again becomes centered around him. Stories centering around the female experience of sickness would be really interesting, especially since it would touch upon themes like body autonomy, body image, grief, death... These types of stories usually are deeply personal, so having a writer who has a life experience with that could truly make for an incredible story. How do you live after being essentially dead to the world for so many years? How do you handle the harm that has been done in your name? How do you face the man you love that has become something else entirely?

[lemonhemlock]

i think when ppl talk about rhaenyra having a birthright they don't actually know what means. if that was true for rhaenyra she would have been her father's heir from the time she was born. but i kinda get why someone would use those words but that sort of language is a lot more convincing than "claim."

also rhae being 8 in the text when she's named princess of dragonstone versus 14 in the show- what kind of difference do you think there was, in terms of emotional impact on her? idk if that makes sense, lol. like book rhaenyra probably can't remember a time that she wasn't first in line to the throne, whereas tv rhaenyra can remember because for almost the first 15 years of her life she wasn't viserys' heir

Hi again!

Technically, Rhaenyra did have a "birthright" to the throne when she was born, but that was because she was the only (living) child. As soon as a living brother of hers was born, her birthright was to be second in line, after him. Of course, as soon as he died, she reverted back to being first in line. Until Aegon was born.

I think the age difference is really interesting in that regard, because the older Rhaenyra is, the better chance she has of understanding that dynamic and internalising it. Like you said, if she is named heir at 8, it's easier for her to forget that she wasn't always no1. But maybe it's also a little more, IDK the right term for this, maybe honest? For Viserys? In the books, he's 20 years old when she is born and 28 when he names her heir. Certainly, no one would have considered him at the end of his heir-making career, yet he still insisted on Rhaenyra. Whereas in the show, he is much older - his actor is a 50 year-old-man. Not to say he couldn't still sire children, but deciding on Rhaenyra when both of them(!) were so young is a detail that maybe someone writing an adaptation could focus on as evidence of true belief in her (if incompetent politicking).

Of course, a lot of this can just be attributed to GRRM's typical bad maths or attempt to force through as many events as possible within a tight timeline - which would explain why everyone is so young all the time.

Anyway, back to Rhaenyra, I think they did explore that a little, as they did give Rhaenyra lines to that extent - how Viserys always wanted a son, not her, how her mother died trying to fulfill Viserys' wish (and ultimately downgrade her in the line of succession), how Viserys intends to replace her with Alicent's son, etc. It's a very fucked up idea to ultimately wish for your replacement just so your mother could get a respite from the pain. NGL - that was a very compelling conflict point that made young!Rhaenyra sympathetic. Unfortunately, it went completely away with her adult self, which they sanitised into this blank canvas and stripped of most personality traits that she resembles a YA novel heroine.

Looking back, I wonder if it were not better to skip the last time jump altogether and just end the 10-episode season at Driftmark. They could have included 3 extra episodes to bridge the divide between young! and adult!Rhaenyra and explore some of the ways in which she ultimately found the position of heir dissatisfying. Which, again, could have been an interesting character exploration. Imagine finally getting the recognition that you wanted only to discover that you greatly dislike all the restrictions that come with that recognition and you become so cantankerous and disparaging of it that you end up wishing you never named heir in the first place, all the while living as if you have no responsibilities.

[66sharkteeth]

I've been rereading City of Blank before it gets censored, and I just wanted to say I love it just as much as I did when I first started reading 3 years ago, if not more so now that I can see plot elements being set up and foreshadowing, etc. It made me sad to see you on twitter/X talking about how S1 isn't good. I can understand being hard on your own work, I'm like that, but why S1 in particular? I really like it! I could make notes as I go through listing out each and every thing I love in every chapter and I'd be doing it for ages. I've read a ton of web comics before and after finding CoB and yet it remains my favorite even still, including S1. Ignore my question if you want, I don't wanna bother you, but please at least accept the compliments because you deserve it and more, thank you for sharing your story 💜

Hmm, to be clear, it's not like I think season 1 is a steaming pile of crap or anything... I just think it's...nothing special and not particularly good.

I think it's biggest issue is it's pacing. S1 feels like...2 or 3 episodes, all stretched out into 25 episodes. A big part of this is because I was told they wanted s1 to end on Jericho's reveal, and back then, they didn't want first-time creators like myself committing to 50+ ep seasons they weren't sure they could keep up with. And honestly, not a ton happened between the first ep and Jericho's reveal. In hind sight, there was a lot more I could have done. I could have had Rex bond with Des and Lyss more, and just...given Lyss more screen time in general. I know so many people dropped the series because Lyss is introduced and when boy meets girl in media, they assume there's gonna be SOME romance there...but then Lyss just kinda fucks off and is asleep for literally 2/3rds of s1, losing that entire audience. Even if...Lyss didn't end up being the love interest, I wish I kept her around more to at least give people the false hope that she would be so I could have just maintained that huge part of WT's audience LMAO.

But instead, half of s1 was spent on that night on the town with Rex and Des and fighting Claude. These are things that crossed my mind when writing it but... I don't know how else to put it other than back then I just had the mindset of "eh, good enough." And on that note, I think the story just wasn't nearly as personal to me back then. I remember literally telling people like "It's nothing deep. The blanks don't represent anything. Sometimes people just wanna tell a fun story." Which...to be clear, 100% valid to people who wanna tell stories like that! But uh... by the end of s2, that stopped being the case. And this story became very personal to me. It became really impossible for blanks and their struggles to not represent things deeply personal to me. Around end of s2 is when this story started to be a lot more than "just a fun story w/ no deeper meaning" and when I really really started to pour my heart into it, and I LIKE to think it shows, because s3 is hands down where I'm most confident in my writing, compared to s1, when it was just trying to be a safe shonen adventure.

Lastly, going back to s1, I guess I kind of underestimated just how much this would end up meaning to me, and how having a weak-ish s1 would impact me 3 years later in s4. Back then I wasn't thinking about how the audience I get back in s1 is only gonna be a fraction of the audience you maintain in s4. I didn't realize there would be literal discussions on Reddit of comics people dropped and CoB being one of them bc of a lackluster s1. I wasn't thinking about how I would eventually be showing this to agents and publishers and that they might not look past it beyond s1 as just very average, mid content.

I was really just kinda in the mindset of "This is just Canvas 2, and if people like it, they like it!!" I wasn't thinking about how not putting 100% into s1 was going to potentially cost me thousands of readers, dollars, and even potential opportunities.

So TLDR, I don't think s1 is the worst thing ever, but a lack of heart, ambition, certain conditions, and just experience made it very lackluster in my opinion. I wish I could put a huge disclaimer on the series "IT GETS BETTER I PROMISE"

[houseofchimeras]

I'm really sorry if this question is a bit of an overstep, but I'm genuinely curious!

You've been around in the Alterhuman community for so long, and you're such a prevalent name as well! How did you (and other Alterhuman folk, like Page and Orion) end up being such big names in the community? And since you guys have been around for so long, do you have any advice you'd like to pass along?

Again, really sorry if this seems pushy, but curiosity killed the cat, y'know?

I hope you have a great day!

Your question isn’t overstepping at all! (So sorry for the delayed answer, offline life has been busy and seasonal depression has left our "writing energy" a bit low for now.)

To the question on how we became “big names in the community,” our system honestly has a hard time understanding it ourselves. To be fair, our system suffers from some serious chronic Imposture Syndrome and self-esteem issues from trauma from childhood echoing mean stuff said about ourselves long ago, plus we’re just overall kind of social anxious creatures, (all while simultaneously desperately wanting validation and the idea that we’re ‘liked’ by people.) Because of all that, internalizing that people like us, let alone look up to us in the community has never been something we have been able to do. We seem to be psychologically incapable of feeling about ourselves and our work half as highly as others view us and our work. We always see ourselves as just “some guys,” in our own eyes.

We just… like writing. We have a lot of special interests and one of them revolves around the history of the communities we are a part of, and we have a lot of tendencies towards hoarding links and copies of materials relevant to these communities. So out of these two things we’ve ended up becoming a community historian and archivist of sorts. Our academic background in history (and to a lesser extent anthropology and library science) certainly has helped us develop skills towards these projects of ours.

And sometimes people like what we write, I guess. We’re always just flattered and happy people like things we have made or done.

As for advice,

A lot of our advice on community engagement is echoed in  Page and Orion’s “YOU ARE NOT A MUSEUM PIECE: Putting Yourself Out There in the Alterhuman Community” 2023 Othercon panel. Our partners, @who-is-page and @frameacloud explain dozens of things there 100 times better than we ever could on that matter.

Other than that -

- Be kind; not just to others but to yourself as well. - Create stuff you want to see made in the community and things you enjoy making, first and foremost. - Every project ever, no matter how large or small, has all started out as nothing but a blank page. Try to not see it as intimidating and instead see it as a blank canvas of endless possibilities.

We hope that answered your questions, and may you have a great day as well. - Earth Listener (she/her/hers)