#the 1000th fanfic or something

[snowcoming]

me, passionately: fuck

[differentsublimephantom]

Here’s a Beetlejuice Beetlejuice fanfic/chatfic and headcannons I wrote because I was bored and the ghost characters need more recognition (minor spoilers for Beetlejuice Beetlejuice)

BEETLEJUICE CHATFIC AND CHARACTER HEADCANNONS

BeetleJuice BeetleJuice character headcannons! (Also don’t mind all the super smash bros headcannons, I was watching Blake jennings “what your main in smash says about you” while I made these):

Wolf Jackson the movie star:

◦ Has MAJOR former theatre kid vibes, like he totally had a Hamilton phase and watched Cats ATLEAST once just to make fun of it, but he ended up secretly kinda liking the songs from it.

◦ Wont admit to even HAVING a favourite superhero, but it’s totally Spider Noir

◦ Says he mains someone like Snake in smash, but he actually mains Isabelle, jigglepuff, or The duck hunt dog and he somehow wins EVERY TIME HE PLAYS SMASH because he’s good at spam pressing buttons.

◦ Good at claw machines for some reason. A strange hidden talent, but he probs brags about it every chance he gets (which isn’t often but still)

◦ Everyone thinks/assumes he’s straight and probs bangin his secretary/the girl who brings him coffee (idk if she’s actually his secretary) but then he’ll casually insert “my boyfriend” or “this guy I’m seeing” into a conversation and the whole room is shocked.

◦ Knuckle cracker.

◦ When he’s sad infront of other people he hides his emotions and says he’s fine, but when he’s sad at home alone, he curls up with a bunch of blankets and binge watches all the movies he stared in when he was alive. Only his secretary(?) knows this.

◦ Drinks coffee (obviously) but also likes iced teas. Can on rare occasions be seen wandering around with an Arizona Tea can in hand.

◦ Ocean from RTC vibes. Like he doesn’t really mean to be rude, but he also has a habit of thinking he’s better than most people around him.

◦ That same way that I walk into any store and when I wanna get something I tell myself “I can make that at home.” He watches ANY action movie (especially ones with cgi or heavy effects) and says/thinks “I could’ve done that MYSELF, WITHOUT special affects.”

Bob:

◦ Chronically tired

◦ Under-appreciated-employee-core. Wherever he works in the neitherworld would not FUNCTION without him, but no one who works with him would recognize this until he put in his two weeks notice.

◦ A pushover. I hate to say it, but this man DIED (double died ig?) for a ghost who didn’t deserve that amount of loyalty and Bob probably knows it. He knew Beetlejuice wasn’t worth sacrificing that much for but he did it anyways because he is a pushover.

◦ My general headcannon for all the “tiny head” people in the Beetlejuice franchise is that they can speak telepathically to people, but most either choose not to, or don’t know that they can do it. Bob chooses not to because whenever he does (on rare occasions) it freaks out everyone who’s ever known him and he finds it hilarious.

◦ Current theatre kid. Has all of Heathers memorized. Could sing most RTC songs and says “this is all your fault Jafar” and “youre FUCKIN useless Paul” in his head or under his breath EVERY DAY.

◦ Once played Smash with Wolf Jackson and absolutely HATED the fact that Wolf won every time without really trying. But also Bob mains wii fit trainer, toon link or Kirby because I said so.

◦ Coffee drinker, but also gives off “DO NOT FILL UP A “SUPER BIG GULP�� CUP WITH 5-HOUR ENERGY AND CHUG THE WHOLE THING” vibes. He is WIRED.

Harry the hunter:

◦ Bobs uncle who died at around the same age as Bob so that’s why they look the same age/look like the same person.

◦ BESTIES with Ms Argentina

◦ Likes Delores because he hates Beetlejuice and wishes she successfully killed him, but also dislikes her because she killed Bob

◦ Bob is chronically tired but gets a good nights sleep most nights. Harry is an insomniac night owl who stays up until 1:00 in the morning rewatching Over the garden wall or Wall E for the 1000th time even though he KNOWS has to get up at 5:00am that morning.

◦ Only drinks tea or water.

◦ Mostly uses ASL or writing on notepads to communicate (same with Bob)

◦ Bob is the type of employee to work more than he should and do extra stuff and overtime etc. because he thinks people will like him more or atleast he’ll get some benefit from it right? Harry is the employee who knows you should just do your job and leave because no one will care if you do more than that so don’t waste your time.

◦ Just like Bob, he is a theatre kid. And he totally got Ms Argentina into musicals too.

◦

Ms Argentina:

◦ a HARDCORE SIMP for Delores. Like “she could suck my soul out of my body and in my last moments I’d THANK HER” kinda simp (same tho)

◦ WILL THROW HER HEELS AT YOU IF YOU PISS HER OFF (Bob, Wolf Jackson, Beetlejuice, AND EVEN Delores ALL learned this the hard way.)

◦ Mains Daisy in smash because they both have Loud-Lesbian energy

◦ Her nickname is Tina and her real name is Valentina, but ONLY Harry and Delores can call her Tina or her real full first name.

◦ SOMEHOW managed to get Delores to go on a date with her, and now they’re dating. Beetlejuice still has no idea how Tina pulled that off.

◦ Tina gives me tea or coffee drinker vibes, but part of me thinks she sometimes puts vodka in her tea and/or coffee

◦ Because Harry got her to like musicals, she totally got her girlfriend into musicals too

I’ll probably make a chatfic based on the musical and cartoon, but this one is based on the movies

Astrid has created a groupchat

Astrid has added: Lydia Deetz, Richard Deetz, Charles Deetz, and Delia Deetz

Astrid has named the groupchat “💜the Deetz family💜”

Astrid: hi! For those who are bad with tech *cough cough, grandpa* this is a groupchat, “gc” for short. It’s like texting but with multiple people in one text conversation.

Charles Deetz: Thanks kiddo, I was confused!

Richard Deetz: hey! This seems fun!

Lydia Deetz: OMG RICHARD?!

Richard Deetz: Hello Lyds!

Delia Deetz: omg Richard! Hi!

Charles Deetz: hello!

Richard Deetz: hi everyone!

~in a different groupchat~

“Work only” groupchat

Richard: my daughter just added me to a family groupchat 🥰

Bob: nice.

Argentina: omg fun!! My family is still alive.

Bob: So is his, Argentina?

Argentina: oh. OH. How the hell does that work?

Richard: I’ve learned not to question things like that a looooooooooooooooooooong time ago.

Argentina: that’s fair.

Wolf: my family has been hiding from me 😅

Harry: why?

Wolf: because ~~🏳️‍🌈~~

Harry: ah. SERIOUSLY?

Wolf: yeah. They only found out last thanksgiving tho. I was at my Mothers house (she is dead, to clarify) and I mentioned I was seeing a guy, and they DID NOT LIKE THAT LET ME TELL YA

Harry: OMFG XD RELATABLE

Harry: Bob is the only family member of mine I know who will talk to me

Bob: to be fair, only about half of our family is actually DEAD?

Harry: yeah. But if Astrid can add her dad to a family gc then don’t you think they might just not be *trying*?

Bob: that’s fair.

Richard: ANYWAYS, I was thinking maybe I should make a gc with you guys AND my family in it so you guys can be introduced to each other!

Argentina: sure!

Wolf: okay.

Bob: 👍

Harry: 👍

Richard: yay! Okay brb

Richard Deetz has made a groupchat

Richard Deetz had added: Astrid Deetz, Lydia Deetz, Charles Deetz, Delia Deetz, Ms Argentina, Wolf Jackson, Bob, and Harry

Richard Deetz has named the groupchat “friends and family”

Harry: I love how apparently me and Bob are just “Harry” and “Bob” and everyone else has some form of last name XD

Bob: omg yeah, I didn’t even notice that! Rude.

Richard: well to be fair, you never told me your last name(s?)

Harry: and I still won’t. It’s still funny tho

Richard: 🙄 alr

Astrid: Dad?! Who are these people?

Richard: my coworkers! Thought I’d introduce you guys

Harry: just “coworkers”? Ouch Rich

Richard: oh hush 😑

Harry: 🤭 k

Astrid: cooooool. Hey.

Bob: hey.

Astrid: OMG @Delia @Lydia @Charles, I forgot to mention I auditioned for my school musical lmao

Lydia: WHAT! And you didn’t tell me? Thats awesome!

Delia: Omg wow!!! You’ll be amazing!

Charles: nice kiddo!

Harry: OMG WHAT MUSICAL IS IT?

Astrid: HAHAHAHA I was NOT expecting that reaction from @Harry

Argentina: he looks very intimidating irl but he’s the biggest FREAKIN NERD YOULL EVER MEET I PROMISE-

Harry: RUDE! But Fr- what musical?

Astrid: Heathers.

Harry: AT A HIGHSCHOOL? Damn

Astrid: THATS WHAT I THOUGHT! But I auditioned anyways for fun.

Harry: so did the cast list come out yet?

Astrid: yeah! I’m gonna be Veronica!!!!!!!

Harry: OMG AWESOME!! I would love to play JD, but I died before even the MOVIE was made, so I’ll never get the chance sadly.

Astrid: DAMN, that’s tough.

Argentina: WOMP WOMP

Astrid: HHAHAHAHAHAHHA WOMP WOMP

Harry: >:O

Lydia: You got a part!!! That’s amazing! When’s opening night???

Richard: yeah! You might not see me in the audience, but I’ll be there!!!

Astrid: it’s in October but rehearsal hasn’t even started yet, I’ll let you know when I know!

Delia: let me know too!

Harry: no offence Delia, but have you SEEN Heathers?? I feel like if ghosts can be unconscious, it would send you into a COMA. With Dead Girl Walking ALONE

Astrid: DEAD GIRL WALKING? She’d be out before Big Fun ends XD

Harry: fair point!

Charles: I know that what you two are typing is technically words, but I understand NONE OF THEM

Harry: that’s also fair XD Poor Charles

Wolf Jackson: I know what the words mean! And your right, Delia would be sent into a coma by that show. Movie OR musical

Argentina: one word: Blue.

Wolf: OMFG I FORGOT ABOUT THAT SONG

Harry: “FORGOT”? I PURPOSEFULLY BLOCK THAT SONG OUT OF MY MEMORY MAN

Richard: oh god what have I started with creating this gc

Lydia: clearly this is a Pandora’s box of chaos you’ve created and opened, Rich

Richard: yeah…….whoops…

~hours later~

Astrid: weird question but raise a digital hand if your 🏳️‍🌈 (no pressure to answer I just want info for a project)

Harry: me!!

Bob: does bi count?

Astrid: yes it does

Bob: cool

Wolf: *slowly raises hand*

Astrid: FR? No offence but I would NOT have guessed that

Wolf: no one ever does 🤫

Argentina: OO OO OO ME!!!

Argentina: wait- can I add my girlfriend to the gc?

Astrid: YESS DO IT

Argentina: okay!!!

Argentina added Delores to the groupchat

Wolf: WAIT YOUR GIRLFRIEND IS DELORES??? THE SOULSUCKER?!

Argentina: yeahhhh 🥰🥰🥰🥰🥰

Delores: hello…? What’s this?

Astrid: a groupchat!

Delores: I’m not sure what that is, but alright?

Bob: ………. Argentina why would you do this to me.

Argentina: OMFG I FORGOT BOB IM SO SORRY

Astrid: wait what? What happened? And what’s a “soulsucker”?

Delores: basically a ghost that can kill other ghosts. And that’s what I am

Astrid: but wouldn’t that not work because they’re already DEAD?

Delores: nope.

Bob: Astrid, you learn not to question stuff like this after a while of being dead or knowing someone in the neitherworld. Nothing makes sense here. (Also Delores almost killed me)

Argentina: yet another reason to NOT KILL YOURSELF 😃

Astrid: noted! Wasn’t planning on it, but good motivation! 😃😃

Wolf: god you people are insane.

Delia: agreed.

Lydia: you both say “you people” like you aren’t a part of this family/friend group. Bad news: YOU ARE PART OF THE “YOU PEOPLE”

Delores: I think I’ll like you people a lot.

Lydia: you tried to kill 🪲🧃 so I definitely like you girl.

Delores: 🥰omg you you want his moldy ass double dead too?!

Lydia: he tried to marry me AT 16 YEARS OLD so yeah definitely

Delores: I’m from an era where thats pretty normal, but I’m gonna assume that’s not normal and bad in the future??

Lydia: yeah it’s bad and gross. Also the year is currently 2024 btw

Delores: thank you! Damn I was in those boxes for a long time wasn’t I?

Argentina: yes you were

Wolf: and you were TECHNICALLY supposed to STAY THERE

Delores: my girlfriend has advised me to reply to that with “womp womp”? I’m not sure what that mean but I hope it has its intended affect.

Bob: WOLF JUST KICKED HIS TRASHCAN SO HARD IT MADE A DENT IN THE WALL HOLY SHIT

Bob: update: I have just read the previous texts. Yes Delores it DID have its intended affect! HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAH

Delores: oh good!!! 😀

Wolf: NO! NOT GOOD. I don’t like you! Mean lesbian!!!!

Astrid: “MEAN LESBIAN” OMG 😆

Richard: what is HAPPENING RIGHT NOW?

Richard: omg I jus read the last few texts, that is pretty funny Wolf

Lydia: 😮 🤭 yeah I’m with Rich on this one, that’s pretty funny honestly

Wolf: I hate you all /ns

[juleshwin]

On a mini posting spree so here's the post on episode#1000 I have been holding off for three days!!!

Warning: Album 78 spoilers ahead non-club members beware

Okay soooooo where's ma list here we go

First off, Suzu's voice is so pretty! I love accents sm. April Hong is so lucky to have a voice like that

Why is this Kris girl so incredibly sus like girl are you trying to get Emily kicked out on purpose? Wait what if she is? 😱 did I just figure out the plot of part two? Nah I don't think so

Woah, woah woah. Back the T.rex up. (😏 iykyk) You're saying...Morrie can be healed? Like isn't his disability something that can't be completely fixed unless like, plot twist, magical portals to fantasy worlds exist or something? I need to do more research

Ok a lot more research that one unhelpful Google search wasn't enough

So are we gonna find out what happened with the car alarm/golf ball thing situation? No? Ok. I gotta say, tho, Morrie's actor is very good at this. His voice is so...what's a good way to describe it...sort of nasal, I guess? But in a pleasant kind of way. Idk I just like his voice a lot. Another unpopular opinion.

Wait what?? Oh come on don't you go trying to pull off a Shannon Messenger!! Now a half to wait until Thursday to hear more. 😑 Ugh authors can be so annoying sometimes (I'm totally not a writer myself)

And here's an extremely messy little doodle I did while listening ⬇

It's when Emily was explaining to the Rydells what'd happened. Also, sorry for my inability to draw curls properly 😅 it's one of my pet peeves or whatever it's called. I love how Suzu's outfit turned out tho. But...now looking back I've realized I've forgotten a few things...like Emily's eyebrows...whoops

Anyways, this was an overall immensely intriguing and well-written episode, but I probably wouldn't have used it for the 1000th. In my personal opinion they should've done something like the five hundredth one, which was pretty cool. I guess One Grand Party was too much for them to make a special episode too🤷‍♀️

Oh, I forgot to mention, @missdrummond had some interesting ideas in her review, go check it out for yourselves, but I think the mind control and secret twin theories are pretty cool. If that's not what happens I might have to add these to my fanfic list

[rayshippouuchiha]

Okay so, feel free to not answer this one, it's,, kinda heavy, i think? and a bit long. also, sorry about just dropping this here, it's just been weighting on me for at least a couple of years?

So, i'm 21, and like, a big lurker in fandom spaces, and with the ships I ship I sometimes see the "these kind of ships are only okay if you're a csa survivor" stuff, which,, bullshit, but always makes me go "is that,, me? does what happened to me count?" and like, i'm aware that just needing to ask that probably means the answer to that is yes, but I've always shied from thinking about myself that way? The term survivor feels heavy, i guess, like it needs to cross a threshold before the thing counts? Which, logically I know is not how that works, but still

It was just like, this one time I was staying at my great aunt's with my parents for like the 1000th time, I loved going over there, she and her husband had dogs and we'd have breakfast together and hang out doing stuff in the garden. But then this one time when I was like,, 13?? I was pretending to be asleep to read fanfic under the covers after bedtime (I was sleeping in a pullout couch in the living room) and my aunt's husband,, kinda groped me? I don't think he realized I was awake, but I froze and just did my best to pull away quietly and then he stopped and left, and I just,, never mentioned it to anyone in my family because I didn't want anyone to fight?? I've been very nervous about raised voices since I was little

After the fact we just left and anytime my parents mentioned visiting I'd try my best to get out of it, by coming up with like reports or homework I had to do over the weekend, and if I couldn't get out of going I'd just stay put in the room I usually slept in or go out with my parents just to have minimum contact with my uncle, which meant like, hugging him hello and goodbye when we got there and when we left, and sometimes accompanying him to gather wood for the fireplace

Anyways, for unrelated motives my parents and I moved to another entire continent right after I turned 16, and then a while later he got sick and died, and hearing everyone lamenting his death and saying that he was such a good man stung like a bitch, even though I*know* i specifically didn't mention it to anyone in my family to avoid any tension. Sometimes I wish I did say something? But like, we moved away *and* he's dead and nobody's even mentioned him in a long time so I don't really see the point? It's a weird thing, and I don't want my parents to ask why I didn't say anything earlier bc they'd get sad, i think

I do have a couple of people to talk to. My friends have gotten really angry on my behalf a few times now, and I love them. Still, it's a weird thing where I don't really want to think about it but also I know it's a thing that really affected me? Still, the term 'csa survivor' feels like it should go for,, heavier things, worse things

Sorry again for just,, dropping this here, just.. talking about it helps a bit, i think?

Oh darling this is a heavy one indeed.

Look, I'm going to be real with you.

What you feel about this uncle is valid. It doesn't matter that it was only once, it doesn't matter that it was "just a grope", it doesn't matter that it didn't progress, it doesn't matter that you were able to avoid him afterward.

He assaulted you. Point blank. He was an adult family member you should have been able to trust and he touched you in a way he should have never even thought to touch you.

I am so grateful that it never progressed, that you were able to stay away from him as much as possible and that he never touched you like that again but the fact remains that you should have never had to deal with that. The burden, the fear, of that kind of thing should have never been placed on you. He broke a trust with you and in you that could never be replaced and that is and will always be on him.

The title of survivor does feel heavy and I can understand why you wouldn't feel comfortable carrying it. In the end that's your choice and your choice is and should always be what matters most.

I also understand being reluctant to tell your parents, especially since he's dead now. I do have to ask if there were any other children or teenagers he might have also attempted to prey on besides you?

Either way I'm glad you have a support system, I'm glad you have friends you can talk to about it.

[ladylightning]

Okay A. You were just my 1000th boop! Yay!

B. Oh my god roommate written rpf about myself would kill me actually. But I have an evil response idea which is to write MORE rpf about HER in retribution. How does that work? I don't really know, since her character is dead?? Idk, spn fic but make her the intro victim or something?? So confused for you <3

hey ily 🫶 boop! 🐾

she is genuinely so nice and objectively my most Normal friend so my best good faith explanation is that she’s just not that creative and doesn’t realize that this is a weird thing to do. like it was kind of funny at first that it was a legit retelling of our college years but a lot of the plot points and themes (unrelated to me) have me Worried. like it’s all fun and games and all the boys are in love with her and then she being stalked and she doesn’t tell anyone and then everyone she loves dies and then she doesn’t survive her own story. and then there’s the other issue of the stalker being one of her girl friends (one of the only completely fictional characters) who is in love with her and kills her.

i do think writing spn fanfic would solve a LOT of her problems.

[lavenderauthor]

Masterlist of My Teen Wolf Fanfics (Always Read The Tags of The Fics)

Teen Wolf

SCP Foundation VS Teen Wolf, G, 7.3k: SCP-TW-2011 is a town by the name █████████ located in █████████ County, California with a population of approximately 30,000 and an area of 47.0 km2. Inhabitants are unaware of its anomalous effects nor the presence of SCP-TW-2012 and SCP-TW-2013, both SCPs having worked to keep the populace in the dark. Inhabitants appear to be rather oblivious to most anomalous occurrences within the town’s perimeter and those who are suspicious are easily deterred from exploring further into.

Latte in a Sippy Cup, G, 5.9k: Character A needs to rush off to work while Character B, their spouse, is regressed. Calls Character C to babysit.

Imagine if Stiles is Character B and Derek has to rush off to work so he has to do something Stiles would hate and call one of his friends or one of Stiles's with no time to explain besides "Just make sure he eats, doesn't ruin the counter again, and gets to the bathroom on time."

This is that story: By An Age Regressor, For Age Regressors. Hate in the comments will not be tolerated

ADHD Wins against Sexy Times, M, 2.2k: So y'all know that it's canon that Stiles has ADHD and give all the evidence in the show, he most likely has ADHD-Combined ie a type that's a mix of ADHD-1(Hyperactive) and ADHD-2(Inattentive). Give my own experience as an Autistic and my FYP flooded with ADHD Tiktok, I know that Stiles would never shut the fuck up during sex. Wanna know why? Our brains never shut the fuck up.

Go Little Bad Boy, Movin' It Around Just The Way I Like, G, 2.2k: Imagine that Stiles has a whole Playlist of songs he practices pole dancing to(Buttons, Little Bad Girl, Bad Boy, etc) and one day, he gets up the courage to attend an amateur night at a bar or something. He makes up excuses about why he was busy but of course, the pack sees through it so they decide on a few to go and follow him, the sneakiest ones.

And that's how Derek, Allison, and Erica discover that Stiles is oddly graceful for his clumsiness, at least on the pole as he trips and is caught by a bouncer when he gets off stage.

Death by Chocolate, T, 1.3k: Stiles receives a care package from his Aunt Wednesday and Grandma Morticia. Inside were the usual poisons, new recipes, etc, with some candies. Nightshade Candies. He's careful to avoid any pungent foods with this plant but candy should be fine, right? Unfortunately, Stiles learns the hard way how overprotective Derek gets at the scent of Wolfsbane coming from his mouth and promptly takes him to the ER where Melissa was on shift to see the disgruntled Stiles and panicked Derek.

Lullaby for a Prince, T, 19.6k: Princess Laura was known for her bright demeanor but very few knew how badly she regretted sending her brother, Prince Derek, away and only does Stiles hear her nightly lullabies to him where she sang up to the moon about her regrets and couldn't wait for her banishment to finish. She missed him dearly, even shedding tears into the garden below her room.

It wasn't until the 1000th year of his banishment was a week away that she seemed to perk up, seeming as distracted as Princess Cora was. Little did they knew Stiles was aware of the signs and was rushing around behind the scenes to help get Prince Derek back to how he was before his darkness consumed him.

Bad Boys Want to Be Pretty Too!, G, 1.3k: Derek has always had those days where he wants to feel handsome, masculine, what society expects him to look like, but other days? Other days, he wants nothing more than to feel pretty. He used to feel them a lot as a kid, probably because of how safe he felt and how carefree most kids are in general. He remembers how his mom used to take lots of pictures during those days while Laura always found the best items to wear, usually from her own closet until he hit his growth spurts and started not to fit into the usual outfits…and because his taste in clothing also started to change.

Nowadays though, he hasn't really felt that feeling, not since the fire, not since his life had been turned upside down...until this morning, when he looked in the mirror while trimming his beard. He couldn’t help but imagine various things he could wear that could make him feel pretty and it wasn’t until he was stood in front of his closet that he remembered how little pretty clothes he had.

“Right…I only have my basics.” He looked at his watch and started to slip on some simple clothes. “It'll be awhile til anyone starts bothering me, I better get some shopping done.”

Darkside with You, E, 2.4k: (No Description, Short Excerpt) There is a legend about the Beacon Hills Preserve, one that is told to many travelers and the kids of the town about a bride and a husband, a pair of murders who used to be just one. It is said that if you see a bride, dressed in ragged wedding clothes and filthy hair, on the side of the road during a foggy night night drive, their husband wasn't too far behind. Do not believe what the bride says, no matter how terrified they appear, for if you believe what they say, you'll meet your demise at the hands of their husband.

Surface Pressure, T, 17.5k(Incomplete): Everyone has weights, baggage. It can be small like a tiny bag or heavy weight attached to chains that claps around throats, ankles, wrists, waists, anywhere it can attach. It never goes away but sometimes? Having someone take the weight off allows the person suffering to realize they can lean onto someone for help, to ease the weight and maybe one day, make those heavy weights become nothing more than a small bag.

Please Note that this work will be dealing with several types of triggering matters like sexual abuse, bullying, self doubt, self guilt, unhealthy coping mechanisms, and so on. I'll try to mark each chapter with their triggering topics. However, if any of these are triggering for you, I would suggest taking a look at my other works in the "Teen Wolf Fanfic" Series or to scroll through my works yourself. This Work will be very different from the works I've written up til now.

This Wasn't in The Purberty Pamphlet, G, 2.1k: TW: Body Issues(what's the word?), Medical Issues Needing Surgery

Btw, This will be Intersex Stiles, specifically XX Male(the actual term, I think?). This is mostly a bittersweet type of prompt where it's bitter for some parts but sweet for other

When Derek, after Stiles made up several lies to avoid being around the pack that even Scott caught onto, arrives at Stiles's room, he discovers a bag in the middle of being packed with medical supplies, loose clothing, and several entertainment items scattered on the bed. It also smelt like medical soap which made his nose wrinkle.

[jimlingss]

just a few last messages I wanted to answer!!

Anonymous asked: Can we all follow you on Twitter or something? Or are you not comfortable with that👉👈

Unfortunately I’m not very active on twitter, anon!! or on any other platform haha

taeguccibracelet asked: Sup queen, just dropping by off anon real quick, unfortunately I couldn't read your last fic yet, thanks to finals 😪 I wish I was like those people who were sharing their favorite fics of yours, and when they started following you, but I just don't remember when I started reading your stuff, and I can't choose a favorite bc all your fics are amazing! Long story short, you're an incredibly talented writer, I'm sad that you're leaving but I do understand why, I wish you all the best 💜

hey you don’t need to remember the ‘when’, what matters is that you are here :> so thank you. I hope you enjoy the end. whenever you get to it :> and thank you so much!!

Anonymous asked: ahhh i found out you were leaving and i hope it’s not too late 😭 i just wanted to stop by and say thank you for all your writings!!! i remember first finding you through the for love and money series back in the days. hope you are well, healthy and happy and i wish you all the best 💜

joonie-mono asked: jgkggkfkgkgkgkgkgk I know this is probably you’re 1000th goodbye message but 🥺 I’m really gonna miss you 😭 your blog was one of the first I ever followed on tumblr, and your fics have gotten me through some really hard times. The truth between us literally made me cry, uhhhh boo-lieve in me, KALE IN ME SOFTLY (for some reason that one has a special place in my heart), jungle park 🙄✋ duh, also love so shallow, moirai and his name (that one made me sob ngl) BUT THE GIST IS GOGLGLGFLL thank you for writing such amazing fics, I hope the future treats you well- and I’ll be reading through your master list like crazy 😭 mWAH <3

Anonymous asked: I can't believe that it's finally 23rd of June (at least here), I remembered the end. where reader was dreading this day and I realized once more that days do fly without realizing. I'm so glad you gave us the end, it definitely is a masterpiece and it sums up perfectly this blog and you, I already have fond memories of reading it and loving it and the connection you made between you leaving and your last fic makes things more touching and emotional 🥺 thank you Kina and happy anniversary(probably I'm late so idk if you answer this but I just wanted to send this)

spillthetaesissy asked: Kina!! I've been a marked anon for a while now, but I wanted to say goodbye without it. Honestly, I love everything you have put out! From the first thing I read, to the last. The Worshiper series is a personal favourite of mine, as well as Moirai, and The End was really really good too! I hope health and happiness follows you into the next chapter of your life (no pun intended). You will be dearly missed on tumblr!P.S. if you ever get back into posting writing, fanfic or otherwise, you should let us tumblr fans know 👀 I would love to support a full publish!

Anonymous asked: hello love!! i wish you all the best in the future. you and your works have made my days so much brighter ever since i found you in 2018! i hope you’ll still come back sometime in the future, because i would love to hear how things are going for you!!!! good luck out there love!!!!!

Anonymous asked: hi bb!! i hope u have a wonderful, happy life ahead of u. ur stories have given me so many countless hours of respite from the world around me, and for that i'll always be thankful to u!! i remember reading ur fics and wondering if i would ever be able to create a voice as strong, as special, as urs. the sentiment still remains- you are and will always be one of the best writers i've had the pleasure to come across. i'm happy u chose to share ur works with all of us, and that u chose to base it around the boys- this might sound cheesy, but i love how you characterise all of them, it has made me appreciate them more. anyway, we have never interacted, and i dont know u personally, but i'll miss u!! stay blessed, thank u for everything once again!!

Thank you, everyone!! and Happy Anniversary!!! :D

[breitzbachbea]

Length! Love reading fics where it’s nice and long and leaves me with a warped sense of reality afterward lmao

Also!! Dialogue!! Natural sounding dialogue!!

And!! Emotion!! You’re just so good at conveying emotions in a piece of writing dude it’s insane

Ahhh, thank you!

Tell me what my speciality as a fanfiction writer is

Finally, me being unable to shut the fuck up is good for something. Jk, but that's really good to hear. I think I like to write longer pieces, because with short ones I have a real hard time finishing them once the intial excitment wears off. Not even because I can't find it in me to continue them, I simply often forget where the story is supposed to continue. I may know the end or another fixed point further down the line, but I can't connect where I left off to it. This doesn't happen with my big projects, where I have more notes and usually some sort of outline. (My outline are one sentence, incomprehensible summaries of at least one thing that happens in the chapter. I am not that sophisticated.)

Plus! I just love connecting dots. Planting seeds. The glorious thing about longer stories is that you don't have to explain everything and go into-depth all at once to make your point. You can take your time and spread it out ... and by building up some sort of climax, you neither have to overexplain the climax to make it work nor waste the potency of your idea early on. There is a way to make this work with short stories, but I'll be honest, I haven't figured that out (yet). I'm not a good short story (as in, the genre) writer, BUT I am great at novellas and novels! :) Also, isn't it simply comforting to know that eight years of your life can be read in just 4 hours -- No, again, I'm jk. I'm glad you read it so quickly! All the work I put into it was so that it hopefully read smoothly and enthralling! It's worth the time it took

Oh my god, thANK YOU FOR NOTICING THE DIALOGUE! It's the most important thing to me. I've edited the three lines of dialogue that there are so far in this part of The Amulet and I am still unhappy with them. If people don't sound like themselves, then what's the point? If you can't distinguish them by speech at least to a certain degree, then what's the point of your characterisation? Bad dialogue makes characters flat, it glues them to the page. With good dialogue, with an awareness of their speech pattern, they will just pop off the page!

Plus, I think dialogue's funny. A lot of my ideas for scenes come to me in the form of dialogue. The Harry/Charlie/Marco clown car? Absolute delight, but you probably noticed anyways how much I love Harry and Charlie bickering with each other.

Oh ... the emotions ... thank you :') I'm always worried about those the most. You read so many amazing pieces of literature that touch you, you read fanfics that tear your heart asunder and then you stare at your own Word doc and think 'This ain't it'. You've been reading this scene for the 1000th time, you know what comes before and what comes after it by hear. You've deleted and rewritten it at least thrice. You maybe finally find out what the emotional core is but are still pretty sure that you failed to connect it to the scene you've written. It's so hard for me to capture emotions, or believe I did, because I don't believe in the Sturm-und-Drang genius author. I don't believe writing only works because you've been kissed by the muse and in a flurry of inspiration, you write down the perfect scene. I believe that writing is hard work. Hard. Work. And it sucks sometimes, because you know what you need to do or want to do but simply can't put it on the page. So this feedback is super appreciated. Not to be wholly self-depreciating, some scenes I wrote also still get me when I reread them. It's not impossible to experience the emotions as an author, too, and one should love one's writing anyways. If you don't like it, who else will? But yeah, scenes like the Charco love confession, Dolcetto's chase of the twins through the hotel, his breakdown in his car later and Francesco's complete meltdown ... it still gets me. And there are other scenes and stories that still get me! I think I am good at writing subtle moments! Just what feels like real life! Listen, yes, I want to rewrite a lot of my stories, but not because I hate my writing. It's because I love the stories and I know they could be better ... more emotional ... Imagine how much longer the list of scenes could be once I've rewritten the main series!!!

Oh, also, for more subtle emotions or also just scenes I am proud of - My res publica AU, definitely. I love the politicking and I love everyone's relationships and issues and feelings in it. It's a good fun read I swear and also, I have way too many unfinished snippets for that AU, jesus -

[myhockeyworld87]

I’m so disgusted; there’s a bunny blog on here that thinks it’s perfectly fine to discuss Crosby’s sexuality. They are discussing it as if they know things he hasn’t said. Someone on there basically said he’s having an affair with one of his teammates and they are all saying the post you made that talked about the other things the Penguins organization did for his 1000th game never happened and that was just PR talk because Kathy is an escort the organization hired and he has no friends outside of hockey. I can’t believe the nerve of these people to talk about them the way they do. They are also attacking anyone who comes to Crosby and Kathy’s defense. The blogger also said anyone who doesn’t agree with them must write fanfics on here or something (it was a dig at fanfic).

I can understand your disgust. It’s truly sad that they need to stoop so low. Honestly though, it’s nothing new. I remember months ago when one of the bunny blogs took one my photos to say that Sid and Kris had a relationship and it pissed me off. I did go and tell them that as well.

Listen, do Sid and Kathy have a perfect relationship? The answer plain and simple is no. But then who does. People are always going to question his sexuality, because he is such a private person. And honestly it’s none of their concern. I don’t know what they hope to gain from bringing this up. Do they want him so bad that they hope Kathy will go running at the slightest rumor? I’m not sure. It won’t happen though. Whether or not Kathy and Sid stay together, is between them. She was obviously thrilled for him last week and showed nothing but the doting girlfriend, not stepping on the logo and what not. It was really cute.

Obviously these blogs know nothing about him and are not from Pittsburgh. If they want to dis fanfic, they can all they want, but it seems to me they are trying to write their own with this little story.

If you could be so kind as to direct me to where this is. I have no problem telling them to shut their mouth on issues that they know nothing about if you think that would help. You can DM if you want or just send it on anon. But thanks for bringing it to my attention. 🤗💕🤗💕

[totally-incorrect-theatre-quotes]

Cry, Hold (fanfic)

To celebrate my 1000th post here’s a 4,000+ word fic one year after Emily died, and how Lydia is trying to cope.

TW: death, mourning, panic attack, mentions of death

_____________________________________________________________

Dear Mom, 

I don’t know how to start this-

Lydia stared at the blank piece of paper underneath her pen before taking the paper up in her hands and crumpled it up, throwing it in the trash can where a collection of these similar letters was beginning to pile up. She felt so stupid, she should be able to do this. Her therapist suggested with the anniversary of her mother’s death approaching in the coming days Lydia should try to write everything that she’s been wanting to say in a letter. What she was supposed to do with the letter when she was done was a mystery. She was told she could rip it, or burn it, or put it in an envelope tied to a balloon and let it go. All of those seemed like stupid ideas to her, so she wasn’t exactly sure why she was trying so hard. She figured she just wanted to make her therapist happy, or maybe some part of her hoped it would work. 

It didn’t take the most observant person in the world to notice that Lydia’s demeanor had changed since December started. A month that for lots of people brings joy and togetherness just made Lydia feel empty inside. Christmas was never her favorite holiday but having her mother die two weeks before Christmas made her want to hole up away in her bedroom and just wait for the holiday to pass. Last year they had been so busy just trying to get all the arrangements set in place after Emily had died that Christmas came and went with very little acknowledgment. Charles tried to get Lydia into the holiday spirit, he even went as far as to recreate some of the old traditions Emily loved to do with Lydia when she was a little girl, but it fell completely flat and ended up making the day so much worse for her. 

After another attempt at writing the stress-inducing letter, Lydia rubbed at her eyes, pulled on her uniform and crept downstairs for breakfast. Her dad was a coffee and bagel kind of guy but Delia was a kale smoothie and oat jar person. Neither appealed to Lydia who recently found that she had very little appetite. Her stomach was constantly in knots, her mind was racing, and she hardly slept. Barbara was quick to notice this, she made efforts to make sure Lydia was still eating and while there was little she could do about the teenager’s insomnia she assured Lydia that she was right upstairs in the attic willing to talk. She figured if she couldn’t help her sleep she could at least make sure she didn’t have to spend the night alone. Lydia fought it for a while, but night three of getting less than four hours of sleep she groggily slinked up to the attic with her mother’s stuffed rabbit in her arms. They spent the night sitting on the couch, not really saying anything, but Barbara could see how just the company was enough for Lydia. 

She sat down at the table, poured herself a bowl of cereal, and scarfed it down quickly to avoid having to talk to anyone that morning. It wasn’t that she didn’t want to be she didn’t have anything to say to them and she knew all they would want to talk about is the date that was rapidly approaching. Even though it was getting colder Lydia still insisted on walking to school, it gave her a chance to clear her head and try to collect herself before having to be at her top performance in school not just academically but socially. It was exhausting to put on a performance like that at school but it was so much easier than the alternative, she already wasn’t the most well-liked person at her school, the last thing she wanted to give them was something else to make fun of her for. It’s better now than it had been in New York but she still had her problems, she tried not to make a fuss about it though, everybody was busy with their own stuff and she figured if there was one thing she could handle it was the assholes she went to school with. 

Walking down the snow-covered sidewalks reminded her of her old home when she would walk with her mother and father to the little shop down the street, her snow boots leaving prints in the fresh powder that would be covered by the time they came back on the walk home. The same sidewalks that she skipped on when she would race the neighborhood kids to the school all while throwing snowballs and not even caring that they didn’t have a snow day. The sidewalks here were filled with kids like that too, so young and so happy. Lydia’s face was red from the cold wind blowing and she pulled her scarf up closer to her face as she glanced away from the happy children. By the time she made it to her high school the buses were all pulled in, filled with students that lived too far away to walk. Filing into the school she was greeted with the same chaos of every day with people shouting and kids being booked. She held hers tighter to her chest on impulse as she walked over to her locker.

“Morning Liddy.” Wendy greeted, “Ready for the history test today?”

Lydia managed a laugh, “No of course not, it’s completely ridiculous for the teacher to expect us to be able to memorize one hundred years of global history for this stupid midterm. I’m more afraid for his final though, I heard it’s cumulative.”

Wendy groaned playfully before giving Lydia a quick hug before darting off to first period. Lydia lingered in the halls for a little longer, not exactly sure why but she passed right by her classroom and didn’t go in. The hallways were eery when they were empty, it was like something had sucked the life out of them, even though Lydia knew everyone was safe inside their classes. She walked past several exits and wondered how easy it would be for her to just open the doors and go back home. She didn’t want to go back home, she didn’t want to deal with their stares either. She just wanted people to stop looking at her all the time, looking at her like something was wrong with her. Even though her father promised he would try and do better she would still catch him looking at her as if she was some kind of alien interacting with earthly things for the first time. Lydia out her hand on the handle of the door and thought about just pushing it open, walking out, and not going back. She shook her head, and eventually made her way back to the classroom she was supposed to be in. 

“You’re five minutes late Ms. Deetz.” her teacher warned, “Do you have an explanation?”

She mumbled some form of apology and was dismissed back to her seat. Despite the fact her last name came early in the alphabet this was one of the few classes where she was sat closer to the back. Normally she hated it, she was already a great deal shorter than the other kids and sitting further back just put her at more risk of someone tall obstructing her view, but this time she was grateful to be protected by the back wall. There was nobody behind her, nobody was looking at her. She was okay. She quietly pulled out her notebook and started to take notes, but she quickly got distracted when she attempted to write the letter again. She was about three paragraphs into what she considered a good start when Lydia suddenly realized the teacher was standing behind her, reading over her shoulder.

“Care to share with the class what’s more important than your English lesson?”

“I-I uh-” Lydia stammered. The teacher snatched the notebook off of Lydia’s desk and she could feel tints of red flushing on her cheeks and hear heart beating in her chest as the teacher read through the writing with a scowl. Soon the scowl turned into deep regret as he looked at Lydia with such pity. She hated that, she hated all of this. She didn’t want to sit here anymore. Her skin felt like it was on fire and she scratched at the back of her arms, they were so itchy. She hadn’t noticed before that she had a red rash spreading up her arm, soon she felt the heat rising to her neck and it took all the restraint she had not to scratch at her neck. It felt like time was frozen, moving so slowly, and everyone was just looking at her. They were all just looking at her, everyone in the class. All their eyes trained on her and that stupid notebook, why had she even been writing in it anyway, she already made enough of a scene when she came into class weight. She wanted them to look away, she wanted them to all go away. The collar of her button-up shirt felt like it was choking her, and she felt like she couldn’t breathe. 

“Can I please have that back?” Lydia whimpered, her throat unusually tight.

The teacher quickly set the notebook back on her desk but she still couldn’t shake the paranoia that everybody was still staring at her. She rubbed her arms anxiously trying to make the itching go away, trying to keep her hand from shaking, to keep herself from wanting to throw up. She pulled more at the collar of her shirt, undoing the necktie of her uniform to try and give herself more air. Noticing her distress the teacher calmly suggested that Lydia go for a walk. He wrote her a hall pass to go to the nurse and get some water, as well as apologized profusely for what happened. Lydia didn’t make it very far down the hallway before it felt like her knees were buckling underneath her, too tired to keep walking. She managed to go over to the empty stairwell and sit underneath it, hugging her knees tight to her chest while she just tried to get control of her breathing. She could hear her pulse beating in her eyes, everything was so loud, so loud and she just wanted it all to stop. She curled her fists in her hair and tried to stifle back a scream. 

Shakily Lydia pulled her cellphone out of her skirt pocket and texted her father that she needed to come home. She didn’t even bother waiting for a response, she went to the nurse’s office, stumbling as her steps were still shaky and unsure. She told the nurse that she threw up, she was offered an icepack and told to sit on the cot while she called her parents to come get her. Unfortunately, her father was stuck in a business meeting but she was comforted in the fact that Delia would come get her as soon as she possibly could. Fifteen minutes later Lydia was sitting awkwardly in the front seat of Delia’s car, visibly pale and shaken. 

“You feeling okay?”

Lydia just shook her head, not wanting to get into the details right now. She was worried that whatever it was that set her off would set her off again. She just wanted to go home and be alone, shut the door, and just pretend the world didn’t exist for a couple of hours. She knew that was unlikely, anytime she was sick everybody was fretting over her for their own personal reasons. Delia and Barbara just being motherly, Adam being protective, Beetlejuice being bored, and her father...afraid that Lydia might develop what Emily had. Any slight sniffle, or couch, or headache Charles wanted a doctor’s appointment to make sure that she was okay. While it was done with the best interests it did nothing but frighten Lydia and remind her of the bad times.

They were about half-way home when Delia stopped at a stoplight and asked her, “Do you want to go get something to eat?”

“I don’t..I just threw-”

“Honey you don’t have to lie about it, you didn’t throw up, that’s not why you wanted to come home. It’s okay, I understand, I’m not going to question it any further if you don’t want me to. What I am asking is if you want to get breakfast, there’s a little diner if we take a detour.”

Lydia nodded, not quite ready to go home, and Delia seemed to respect the boundaries she had put in place. The two of them arrived at the little restaurant, sat in a booth by the window and just sat in silence while Lydia stared out at the white snow.

“Growing up in California I never got to see a lot of snow when I was a kid, then I moved to New York after college and I have to say it wasn’t as magical as I was expecting. I actually really don’t care for it.”

“I love the snow, it reminds me of when I was little. But I can see why you might not like it. It’s an inconvenience, it gets dirty easily, all around just in the way. It’s pretty to look at though, before anyone steps in it, before any of the plows run past and turn it brown with salt and dirt.” Lydia twirled the straw in her drink absent-mindedly, “My mom and I used to wake up on snow days and watch the sunrise hitting the snow. I was always so cold, but then we’d go inside and make hot chocolate and spend the whole day in our pajamas.” She smiled fondly at the memory, she could almost picture a slightly younger Emily and a seven-year-old Lydia huddled up under coats and blankets while the sun rose over the horizon making the snow glow like a fairytale. 

“That sounds really nice,” Delia shared in the smile, and Lydia could tell it was genuine, and not just an attempt to make her shut up. 

Lydia hesitated again, “Can we talk about it?”

“Talk about what?”

She rubbed her arm sheepishly, noticing the scratch marks she left on there from earlier. The rash now long gone, “What happened.”

“Only if that’s what you want.”

“I want to.” Lydia replied surprised at how sure of herself she was, “I don’t understand what happened. I don’t know why it happened. I’m just so confused about everything, and this didn’t make it any better. I don’t know, I guess it’s been coming for a few days now, I haven’t been sleeping well and I keep trying to write this stupid letter to my mom because the day it happened..the day it happened is coming up in two days and my therapist thought it would be a good idea. I don’t get this work up usually, even if things she suggests to me don’t work out, but this has been on my mind all the time. I feel like I’m walking around aimlessly.”

Delia nodded urging Lydia to continue with the explanation.

“That I could handle, I’ve felt like that before. But what happened in class, that’s never happened before, well never quite like that. I was in class and I got embarrassed and I felt like I was dying. My heart was beating so fast, my body felt hot and itchy, and I thought that everyone was staring at me. I couldn’t breathe, I thought I was suffocating, I just wished they would all go away. I don’t even want to go to school tomorrow because they’re all going to make fun of me for having a break down in school like-”

Though Delia had been intently listening, she cut Lydia off, “Nobody is going to make fun of you, and if they do they have problems of their own that they should be concerned about. Lydia do you know what a panic attack is?”

She nodded

“That’s what happened. You had a panic attack, I used to get them when I was your age too. They’re scary, they feel awful, you probably feel exhausted right now. They are not something to take lightly or diminish, yeah?” She waited for the teen to nod in reply, “I’m really sorry that happened to you Lydia, it’s scary to go through it alone in your house but I can’t imagine how scared you were having it happen in public.”

“I thought I was dying.”

“They feel like that, people confused panic attacks for heart attacks because the symptoms are so physical. Do you have any idea what might have triggered it?”

Lydia shrugged, “I don’t know, it’s been a lot of stuff recently. Like I figured this would be hard but I didn’t think it would be this bad. Today isn’t even the day and look at me, I’m a freaking mess. How am I supposed to go to school that day, I can’t miss more school I already left early today and-” she suddenly remembered the history midterm she was supposed to be taking today, “Oh my god I’m going to fail history now because I’m not there to take the stupid test, he won’t let us make it up and I’m-I-”

“Calm down, calm down.” Delia tried to soothe her, “It’s going to be okay, your father and I will make sure that everything is squared away with the school. You’re not going to fail your class, and if you don’t think going to school on Wednesday is a good idea you don’t have to go. We’re going to make this work, alright?”

Lydia nodded feeling the familiar sensation of tears pricking at her eyes. It was a strange kind of feeling though, they weren’t exactly sad tears but they weren’t entirely happy either. It was a bittersweet kind of sadness. The two girls finished eating, though Lydia mainly pushed the pancakes around with her fork taking bites every now and again to keep Delia satisfied. They walked back to the car and drove back to the house. When Lydia got inside she didn’t know why but she paused in the living room before the staircase. She knew she just wanted to crawl into bed and sleep the day away but another part of her wanted to be around someone which she found so confusing considering all she had been longing for since the morning was to be alone. Delia was off to the kitchen, she had some project sprawled out on the dining table that looked very involved. Lydia didn’t want to feel like a burden, Delia had already taken time out of Delia’s day off to have her come get her from school and take her for food, she didn’t want to come off as needy just because Lydia wanted to talk. She could talk to Barbara but she would have to explain everything all over again, and while she loved Barbara with all her heart, Barbara was more for a gentle motherly approach, Delia knew what she was talking about with all the psychology stuff going on in Lydia’s brain. 

“Delia?” Lydia called quietly, almost hoping she wouldn’t answer which would give Lydia all the permission she needed to go and isolate herself in her room. To a mix of her relief and anguish, the redhead appeared within seconds. The two looked at each other for a second before Lydia couldn’t take it anymore. She had been trying to hold it in for so long and it exploded at school, she didn’t want that to happen again. With a sad sniffle, she ran over to Delia and threw herself into a tight hug, feeling some of her anxieties melt away as Delia held onto her so tightly, not moving, not pulling back, just being there for her. 

“I miss her. I miss her all the time, and I just want the pain to stop. It’s been a year now, why isn’t the hurt going away Delia?”

“Grief can last for a while, and when we lose someone we never perfectly recover. I wish I could tell you it will all disappear one day but I don’t want to lie to you, not anymore. It’s okay to feel sad, it’s okay to miss her, alright? Don’t feel bad about it, this..this is normal. This is all part of the grieving process.” Delia pulled away slightly from the now sobbing girl and lead her to the couch so they could sit down more comfortably. 

“I keep thinking about that day, I think about when I found out she was sick. They told me she was going to pull through, that the odds of her beating it were so good, and they lied to me. Two years I had to watch my mom get sicker and sicker, and then I watched her die.” Lydia felt a tear stream down her cheek and she tried to push the image from her head, she trembled as she tried to block out the screaming in her head that she knew was hers from when her father had to pull her away. She’ll never forget how it felt as though she had been hit in the stomach with a metal bat when the heart monitor flatlined and there was no crash team trying to bring her back. Not anymore, Charles told her some months later that Emily was ready to go, that she didn’t want them to keep bringing her back. She made Charles promise to not tell Lydia until it was over, she knew Lydia would take it poorly and she was right. When Charles told her she felt so betrayed and hurt and angry. 

“I want her back.” Lydia cried

Delia pulled the girl into another embrace and held onto her while she cried. Delia, though it was extremely difficult, resisted the urge to cry with her knowing that Lydia needed someone to be emotionally available, and not consumed in their own feelings. It was times like these that Delia remembered just how young Lydia was, she had just turned fifteen in July and she had already gone through so much. By the time Charles had gotten home from work Lydia was thoroughly exhausted and gave an extremely brief explanation, knowing Delia would help her out in filling in the gaps of information. After a dinner that Lydia could only describe as a conversational landmine, she looked at her phone for the first time since school and saw a few messages from concerned friends about how she was feeling after she “threw-up” and Wendy, of course, came in clutch with sending Lydia feel better memes. Lydia relxaed a little when there were no messages from students in her class teasing her for her panic attack, or even mentioning it at all. Maybe nobody was staring at her after all, maybe they all believed that Lydia just got sick to her stomach. Her father sent an email to the teacher giving the test that day and made arrangements for Lydia to make it up on Thursday when she was feeling better, going off of the already established lie Lydia was given two more days off school to recover from her stomach bug. After wishing everyone goodnight Lydia finally went to her bedroom. She fully undid her school tie and threw it in the heap of clothes in the corner of her room, she switched her button-up and shirt for warm pajamas. Her two cats were watching her intently as she sat down at her desk the same way she had just this morning, a pen in her hand and a blank paper underneath her. After staring for a few seconds she finally started writing.

Dear Mom,

I think I’ve misunderstood this letter. This letter isn’t for you, this letter is for me. I still don’t know how to start this because there is so much to say but I’ll start with the easiest thing first. Mom, I miss you and I wish you were here. I wish you hadn’t told the doctors to stop trying, but I know that even if they had it would have happened eventually, and you’d still be sick and in pain. I feel selfish wishing I had gotten more time, but I’m not sorry about that. I’ve learned I’m allowed to have yucky feelings sometimes. 

I’ve met people that you’d just love. They’d love you too. I love you-

[udunie]

Have you ever wrote a kinky porn fic you were very proud of but then you ended up with very weak feedback? How fid you feel?

It’s more like... Especially when I write something relatively extreme, people don’t really want to interact with it, you know? Like, consider Piggy which was at one point one of the fics I got the most requests to write a sequel for and it has almost 150k hits, so I know people like(d) it and read it.

I have 9 comments on that fic. Two out of those are mine, so 7 actual-person-left-me-feedback comments on a fic with nearly 150k hits, more than 1300 kudos and 146 bookmarks. 

So like, roughly every 100th reader left a kudo and every 1000th reader bookmarked it, but only one out of more than 20k readers commented. (Of course, I know people must have read it multiple times, which fucks up the hit count, but that also would theoretically give people the chance to maybe comment multiple times, if they happened to like it)

I mean, just looking at the numbers, that’s pretty crushing. And I’m not gonna lie, when I post something before going to bed and I wake up to 2-3 comments? That gives a megaphone to the little voice in my head telling me that I’m a shitty writer. 

So yeah, it can be pretty disheartening when you put a lot energy and/or time into something, and you maybe even feel good about it to not get much back. But. What I ‘console’ myself with is that I know most people are too shy/embarrassed about reading/liking the kind of stuff I write, and that’s okay.

Would I want to have more comments? Sure I would, I don’t think there’s a fanfic writer out there who would say no to that lol, but in the end of the day when I do get comments, and they say ‘oh, there are so few ppl who write this kink, thank you’ or ‘oh, I didn’t know I was into this’ then I do end up feeling like maybe I accomplished something :D

[wearevillaneve]

Killing Eve #1000th Post

(illustration by Leticia Langer)

It all comes round to this.  A poisonous, corruptible, acidic force of nature that must endured to survive.   Eve is being changed by Villanelle and Villanelle is being changed by Eve.  That’s indisputable.   Eve Polastri and Oksana Astankova are two sides of the same cracked mirror and they can no more live and thrive without the other than we can live with only one working lung.   

Theirs is not a love dance.  Not yet.  It’s more like a symphony of mutually-assured destruction and yes, it is driving them both mad.

See what I did there?  Eve is obsessed with her opposite and Villanelle is obsessed with hers and we’re all here because we’re obsessed with them both.  

Now after two years of build-up, I’m in desperate need of a payoff.   No more ambiguity.  Fuck all this “will they or won’t they?”  I’m tired of the b.s.  I’m ready for these two idiots to go into a room and not come out until they settle their beef and move on without grief.   That, or one kills the other and kills themself next because they can’t live with what they had to do. 

I think we’ve all been VERY patient with Killing Eve.  It’s been accused of queerbaiting.  I don’t think that’s correct.  At least, not yet.  Give me another concluding episode where E&V are stabbing or shooting each other and then I’ll throw my hands up and scream, “FUCK THIS!”   There’s a part of me that doesn’t want to believe Phoebe Waller-Bridge, Sandra Oh, Jodie Comer and the rest of the KE brain trust wasn’t planning to draw this out forever and a day, only to allow a chaste little peck on the cheek between our sheroes in the final shot of the final episode.   If that happens I might have to do an injury to somebody.   Because there’s only so much KE fanfic and art I can fall back on to fill the gap.  In S3,  I need this strange relationship to go the extra mile and give me what I’ve been craving.   An intimate moment of genuine emotion and unbridled passion between Eve and Villanelle.  

Killing Eve was inspired by a lot more than Luke Jennings’ novellas and while we’re all waiting for S3 to jump off, I want to do a few more think pieces about this, but when I read this particular quote, something about it resonated with me and maybe it will with you as well. ------------------------------------------------ "Almost every woman I have ever met has a secret belief that she is just on the edge of madness, that there is some deep, crazy part within her, that she must be on guard against 'losing control' of her temper, of her appetite, of her sexuality, of her feelings, of her ambition, of her secret fantasies, of her mind."---- Elana Dykewomon, "Notes for a Magazine" , Sinister Wisdom#36 (Winter 1988/89)

Can a murderous, but cute, psychopathic assassin find true love and happiness with a deceptive, manipulative, but cute sociopath MI6 agent?  Sure.  Just as soon as they stop trying to kill each other and give in to what they know they can’t deny, but continually do.   Enough, already! It’s time.   Let It Be  Let E&V Be. 

[jbone1988]

so like,, @toewster1988 and i were talking,, and 

Jonny setting up everything for when Pat gets his 1000th point is something you’d expect from a fanfic, not irl

and yet... it happened

my heart is so full ;-;

[darkzorua100]

So with Vrains coming to a close next week (honestly I’m more shocked about how fast time has gone by), I’ve been thinking more and more about Yu-Gi-Oh 7th and just what this new series could be about. Like I said in the past, we will probably not be getting any more info about it until Jump Festa in December but at the time of writing this, that is still a few months away. We got nothing but time to think of what the next series could be about.

With that being said, I’m really am starting to believe we could be getting some kind of All-Star/Crossover entry into the Yu-Gi-Oh franchise for Yu-Gi-Oh 7th. From what I’ve been hearing/seeing, not just from Yu-Gi-Oh but other medias as well, it just seems to make sense.

1. The Announcement

So when Yu-Gi-Oh was confirmed to be getting a new anime series in 2020, obviously we didn’t get much detail but what we did get got people talking. One of the big take aways from the news was this quote about how “the history of the Yu-Gi-Oh! anime series will change." The video showed us a recap of the precious series and how this anime was going to commemorate the 20th anniversary of the anime franchise. The three big theories that started from this, from what I saw anyway, was that we were finally going to be getting a female protagonist, some kind of DM reboot, or a massive crossover between the past series. Thinking about how it, the crossover one seems to be the one that were hinting at the most since the quote, along with the video, seems to imply all of the series might have some role to play in YGO 7th. Plus with this anime being to commemorate the anime series as a whole, it just makes sense to do something to celebrate the franchise as a whole. 

It makes me think that if we do get this crossover, it might not just be some kind of All-Star series. It makes me think that we could be getting some kind of new protagonist who is trying to stop said villain of the series from jumping from series to series to mess with their story lines. Like an anomaly that isn’t supposed to be there that just destroys everything. Really puts a meaning to the quote of “changing the history of the anime series”. Having a villain literally changing the events of DM, GX, 5Ds, Zexal, ARC-V, and Vrains for the better or worse (so basically a fanfic writer is the villain lol).

For example, in the case of DM, someone showing up in front of Pegasus during the Duelist Kingdom arc and explaining to them the events that are going to happen during his tournament which might cause him to rethink his plan and device something competently new that would change the rest of the current arc going forward. Or in 5Ds, someone stopping Jack from stealing Yusei’s Stardust Dragon and going to Neo Domino City which ended up being the catalyst for Yusei to go after him and leading to the events of everything that was to come. Heck we could do something really dark, such in Vrains, with someone showing up during the Hanoi Project to convince Ryoken not to make that phone call to the police, in turning saving the Lost Children, which in turn could lead to them dying. The butterfly effect. One simple change and the whole course of history in a series could change. Maybe their goal is to keep the protagonist of their respective series from becoming the heroes that we know of them today and said protagonist of this series is trying to fix the events that said villain tampered with.

2. Pokemon

Yes I’m bring up Pokemon for this argument. Why you might ask? Simple. For those that don’t know, Pokemon was recently confirmed to be getting its Gen 8 anime for Pokemon Sword and Shield but the main twist to this that no one saw coming was that it was confirmed to not only be set in the new Galar region, but in all the past regions from Kanto to Alola. More information should be getting revealed soon about that but I just find that odd. People like to compare Pokemon and Digimon together but to me, Pokemon and Yu-Gi-Oh seem to have a closer comparison to each other. Both of them started in 1996 and both of them have long running anime franchises that always seem to begin and end right next to each other for a series. It might just be a weird coincidence, and honestly really has no proof to it as they are two separate franchises, but we all know how much these two love to squeeze in nostalgia whenever they can and being 20-year-old franchises gives them perfect opportunities to dedicate a series around each at the same time. 

3. 1000th Episode

Honestly, I didn’t even know about this little detail until Tumblr user, @stellirex, pointed this out in a post of theirs. The very first episode of YGO 7th will be the 1000th episode of the whole franchise.

Zero: 27

Duel Monsters: 224

GX: 180

5Ds: 154

Zexal: 146

ARC-V: 148 

Vrains: 120

27 + 224 + 180 + 154 + 146 + 148 + 120 = 999 episodes.

Yeah if that doesn’t scream some kind of big event/crossover to commemorate the anime series as a whole, I don’t know what does. 

So yeah, in conclusion, I think the chances of us getting some type of crossover anime seem to be pretty high. And if this isn’t the case, ignore everything I just said. If anyone wants to add anymore evidence to this, be my guest.

[incorrectdeceptionquotes]

1000th Post!

One thousand posts ago, I started this blog as just a fun little thing for the Deception fandom. I had no idea you guys would actually like it as much as you did. Your support means everything to me!

I will continue this blog as I still do but for this particular post, I wanted to just thank you guys. So I thought we could do something kinda fun:

I thought that until 11:59pm next Sunday, I will answer any and all questions you guys might have about the blog, the fanfics, the quotes or... even about me.

This blog has become a huge part of my life and I'm so glad that I get to share it with you guys and that you've responded so positively to it.

Keep being awesome! I love you all!

[wersoverytired]

Supernatural fanfic: Dean has a nightmare, Untitled

Thought I’d get some of my old fics on tumblr as text, too, and not just as links.

Summary: Gen, post 1.09. The week following their visit to their childhood home is hard, and one night Dean suffers a massive nightmare. Sam tries to help - not like he hasn't been through this with Dean before - but this one hurts in whole new ways.

Disclaimer: Supernatural, its characters, plot lines etc. belong to their awesome creators. I am only suggesting fun new ways in which those beloved characters could suffer and/or be comforted.

____________________________ 

The Impala's hood is cold, beaded with dew drops that roll and string together under his weight, but Sam doesn't mind. He leans against the black metal, watching the first tendrils of light make their way across the horizon of the night sky. Only half an hour left before sunrise; he finds comfort in that fact. His night owl of a brother would find that laughable.

Dean has always been content to sleep through the day, if they didn't have a case that required interviewing the grieving widow du jour, or otherwise interacting with the normal world. He tends to perk up after dark, excited to hustle pool, engage in some B&E, or just hang out at the local bar. Even grave digging seems to be fine by him, most nights.

Not this week, though. Nighttime has been different since Lawrence. Visiting that house (if "visiting" is the right term for going into your childhood room armed) didn't do either of them any favors, but it was harder on Dean. He actually remembers; this was home to him once, before it was a case, before it was the unmarked grave of their potential lives.

Ever since they drove away and left Jenny and her kids on that front stoop, Dean has been quieter than usual. Which is not to say he hasn't been doing his absolute best to make up for the lack of his usual inspiring conversation - Sam is pretty sure he'll be hearing The Best of AC/DC in his dreams long after his eardrums recover - but still, something is definitely off.

Sam cranes his neck to study his sleeping brother's face through the windshield. Dean hasn't even tried to find a pool hall or a bar since they went back on the road; stranger still, he hasn't so much as tried to flirt with their waitresses in any of the diners they went to - which, while probably being a welcome respite for womankind, is yet another sign that Dean is not doing so hot.

He's asleep now, though, snoring softly in the front seat, which is at least something. Sam was re-introduced to actual sleep some time after he met Jess, who told him, all serious, that she HAD to have her Enchanted Sounds of the Ocean album on repeat in the background at night. "I can't fall asleep without it," she said, and he knew she was lying, that she was doing it for his benefit, because she was hoping that masking the sounds from outside would help him stop listening.

She spoke a lot about hypervigilance, and about how he was tense and how it was okay to relax sometimes -- "it's just college," she said -- and he nodded, always, because he couldn't (wouldn't) tell her about all the reasons.

And anyway, he was listening for Dean as much as he was listening for things that went bump in the night -- but family was another topic he couldn't discuss with Jessica. So Sounds of the Ocean it was, and it kind of grew on him, to be honest; he found that with time, he slept better and listened less.

Dean did come, and he pulled him out of that room where he would have been happy to burn with her, because he deserved to. Sam went back to sleeping like a hunter after that, half-awake most of the time, never truly comfortable, never naive enough (stupid enough) to feel at home.

Home.

He thinks about the look in Dean's eyes when the Impala pulled up by the mint-green house. Tries to imagine a young version of his brother sitting at the table in that kitchen, smiling happily at their mother over scrambled eggs and toast, getting crumbs everywhere. He can't.

Dean shifts slightly in the front seat. He mumbles something incoherent, frowning. Resistant to Sam's worry even in his sleep.

Sam turns back to watch the sky. They parked miles away from anywhere, no houses or lights around, and though the absence of humans doesn't ever mean safety, at least he doesn't have to worry about some random cop taking an interest in two bruised men spending the night in a '67 Chevy. It's dead quiet, nothing but the wind, and Sam feels relatively safe; almost impossible to sneak up on them here. He closes his eyes, just for a second or two, breathes in. Breathes out.

There's movement behind him again; Dean is getting restless. He thinks he must have dosed off for a few minutes on the hood, because the sky is not as dark now, and because Dean is completely drenched in sweat when he peers through the glass to check on him. Shit.

Sam slides off the hood, scurries around the car and crawls into the back seat; he knows better than to get in front and place himself directly in the path of Dean's swift kick. It only took one error in judgment to teach him that rule.

He watches his brother cautiously for a moment, unsure how to proceed. Dean is obviously having a nightmare, and a bad one, too; but that's a common occurrence, and experience has proven that even waking him up from regular sleep is never, ever a good idea. Too much going on in there, too much that needs to be locked safely away before he can afford to be conscious.

Dean's face is pale in the scarce light, glowing with sweat, his short hair sticking to his scalp. He's breathing fast and shallow, eyes moving frantically behind closed lids, hands fisting in his lap and on his chest like he's desperately trying to hold on to something. It's painful to watch, but it's when he whimpers - actually whimpers - that Sam decides enough is enough. If he gets punched for his trouble, that's fine.

He reaches out and places a careful hand on his brother's shoulder, shakes him gently. Just me, okay - -

"Dean. Hey, Dean. Dude, wake up, you're having a bad dream."

Dean's only response is to thrash around even more violently in the tight space, now seemingly in full panic mode. He's hyperventilating, kicking hard, grabbing at thin air.

"No no no no no - -"

"Shit, Dean, hey, hey! It's just me, it's Sam, wake up. Wake up!"

Dean's fear is so palpable that Sam feels his own lungs constrict with irrational terror. He tightens his hold on his brother's bicep, squeezing painfully. "DEAN!"

Finally, mercifully, Dean's eyes blink open. His gaze is bleary, pupils dark and alarmingly wide, and Sam knows he isn't seeing anything yet, won't for a while; he's still trapped. Knowing doesn't make it any easier, though, because his brother looks painfully desperate.

"No, no, please, oh god - -"

The tremors wrecking Dean's frame are so powerful now that they shake Sam's hand right off his sweaty shoulder.

"Hey, hey, breathe. C'mon. Dean, you're okay, it's - "

Dean isn't listening, isn't capable of hearing him. And then, somehow, he's out of the car, tumbling through the driver side door and onto the weeds, landing hard and struggling to get up.

Cursing, Sam slides out of the Impala and crouches down on the wet ground next to his brother, reaching out; he needs to get Dean lucid before he manages to hurt himself by running God-knows-where. He decides, for the 1000th time, that he hates his brother's sleep issues. If for no other reason, he believes in the existence of a higher power because there has GOT to be some twisted sense of humor behind giving night terrors to a man who sleeps with a gun under his pillow.

Dean is in no condition to appreciate the irony, though, and Sam grabs him by both shoulders, raising his voice.

"Dean, hey, you're awake, it's over. You're okay."

The words feel useless, and they don't seem to resonate; whatever horror took place in Dean's dream, it has somehow chased him across the divide and followed him into consciousness.

Dean is looking down at his shaking hands now, his face reading utter devastation.

"I can't find him. I can't find him. Must have dropped him. I gotta - - " his breath hitches, and he closes his eyes against some horrible realization.

Sam can't remember ever seeing his brother so distraught -- anxious, sad, sure, but not like this, not like his heart is breaking. The sorrow on Dean's face causes his own eyes to water, makes his throat close.

He somehow still manages to speak.

"Dean, what -- who are you looking for?"

His brother shakes his head, opens his red-rimmed eyes but doesn't meet his gaze. "Sammy. Can't find him. T- - took him, I thought, I thought I had him, I, you said run, you said don't look back, you said - - "

Sam suddenly tastes bile. He has to take a deep, slow breath, let it out, then inhale again. In. Out. Don't throw up, not now not now.

Speechless and short of breath, he watches as his big brother frantically searches around, eyes impossibly huge in his bruised, tear-stained face. Dean seems so disoriented, so stripped of his usual defenses; Sam just wants to look away.

But he never could. He speaks to the desperate four-year-old looking in the grass for the baby he doesn't think he saved.

"Dean", he says, softly this time, "it's okay. You didn't - you didn't drop Sammy, I promise. We made it out. Buddy, look at me."

For the first time, Dean stops and looks up. God, he looks so exhausted, so hopeful.

"- - Huh?"

"I'm Sammy, remember? We made it out. You got me out of that fire just like he told you, and I'm good. And it was a long time ago, years ago. You know this."

Dean appears to consider the information.

"Yeah?"

Sam nods. "This is 2005. You were just having a nightmare. I know it feels real, I know it's -- you with me yet?"

Dean's hands stop moving in the damp weeds, his eyes seem to regain some of their focus. He frowns.

"I'm not - - what?"

Sam sighs.

"Try to calm down. Everything's okay. I'm here, you're here. Remember today? We had some chili cheese fries, got some beer for the cooler, parked here in the middle of nowhere and called it a night. Oh, and you lost your toothbrush, as usual, and you bitched about that, as usual. Then you fell asleep. Any of that coming back to you?"

Dean nods sheepishly. He rubs his eyes, looking confused when his hand comes away wet. He's already forgotten he was crying, Sam thinks.

"Yeah. Yeah. Sorry, Sammy. I - - "

Sam interrupts his brother's apology by wrapping his arms around him, ignoring the surprised, muffled sounds of protest Dean makes against his shirt.

"S'okay, Dean. We're good." * They're having lunch at a Biggerson's when Sam decides to bring it up. He spends ten minutes pecking nervously at his poor imitation of salad - a sad pile of lettuce, dwarfed by his brother's victorious mountain of onion rings - before he gets up the nerve to mention, vaguely, that last night was rough.

Dean thinks for a moment, then nods, squinting at the sun.

"Thought I might have had a nightmare or something, but I wasn't sure." He fishes an onion ring out of the pile, examining it in the light like a precious stone before covering it with an obscene amount of ketchup.

"So what happened? Did I say what the dream was about?"

Sam stares at his brother. He can never get over the way these episodes just evaporate from Dean's mind once he goes back to sleep. He's read all about night terrors and everything related to them, but no amount of research can make him be okay with THAT.

He tries to sound casual.

"You don't remember, huh?"

"Nope." Dean flicks a bottle cap into the trash can, faking nonchalance. "Why? What weird shit did I say this time?"

Sam clears his throat before he answers.

"Uh, home. Something about home."

Dean's face darkens.

"Oh."

He doesn't ask anything else after that, and Sam doesn't offer further information. They finish their meal in silence.

As they make their way back to the Impala, Dean clears his throat.

"You can drive for a while, if you want."

The look of puzzlement on Sam's face must be comical, because Dean chokes back a laugh as he throws him the keys.

"Don't get all starry-eyed on me, dude. It's just until we cross the state line."

Sam says nothing. He looks down at the keys, and when Dean uncharacteristically squeezes his shoulder on his way over to the passenger side of the Impala, he bites his tongue, refusing to get emotional.

Which gets so much easier when Highway to Hell comes blaring out of the speakers before he even gets into the damn car. ---