#the difference is one of them is from one of the most live wire fandoms of the late 2010s

[jonathanrook]

you know what. thank god mymusic isn't popular i like being able to make scindie fan content. and none of y'all can call me out for it bc what were you doing at the devil's sacrament.

[shalotttower]

Pholcus phalangioides

Title: Pholcus phalangioides

Fandom: The Collector (2009). Can be read as an original inspired by the source, because I took some creative liberties.

Summary: There's a spider in your bathroom, it lives under the mirror cabinet and you a) don't want to kill it, and b) are too scared to touch it, so now you can either keep giving it one side eye after another, or ask your neighbour for help.

Word count: 4000+

Characters: Asa Emory x Reader

Notes: yandere Asa, spiders and insects descriptions, stalking, voyeurism of sort - Asa watches Reader without her realizing it, kidnapping, vague hinting on body horror, non-con touching, Reader is socially awkward. Asa is not 100% in-movie-character Asa (he actually talks lol), a huge chunk of him is based on my headcanons.

You have this problem - a spider problem, to be precise. Not that it's too big of a deal, but...it also is.

Spiders are generally okay.

They eat unwanted guests, like flies and mosquitos or even other spiders. Make cool webs, which is probably one of the most complicated forms of art, not to mention a mathematical pattern to it - a combination of radial and circular symmetry. The golden ratio in nature.

In general they're important for keeping a backyard ecosystem nice and intact.

But.

But there is a spider in your bathroom, right under the sink cabinet, with thin legs, a long body, and of course - eyes. Quiet, kept to itself, really chill spider who doesn't move much except to crawl around a little and sometimes look at you when it catches you looking.

It probably lived in hiding somewhere, before deciding that dark spaces weren't up to its standards anymore and making an appearance. You haven't swatted it away, caught it, struck it with a paper - mostly because you're not good at killing living creatures, and secondly because the spider isn't doing any harm, just observing your every step, and generally being present.

When you check your makeup bag, it watches. When you brush your teeth, it watches. When you close the cabinet door it wiggles and your heart goes "ee" as if someone shocked it with a static charge. This yellowish-brown witness of your everyday activities, silently approving and judging, lately makes you feel like a nuisance in your own bathroom. You desperately wish there was a way to make it move to another corner. A less centralized one, less straight in your face. Yet the thought of touching it makes you cringe inwardly; your mind conjures images of different scenarios involving spider-related unpleasantries - accidentally squashing it, or getting bitten and dying a slow, miserable death.

It's gotta go.

Because the more you see it, the more your brain tries to assign it human features. And the longer it stares, the bigger the chance it might grow a pair of lips to say "get out of my bathroom".

The thought comes to you in the morning while setting a breakfast plate on the kitchen counter. The house is quiet, all windows are open and you stare through one of them at your neighbour's fence. You rarely see him, though the parked car is always a giveaway of his presence. Emory, that's what the mailbox says, and he has a neat garden, not an extravagant type, but everything is carefully trimmed and arranged into simple patterns.

There's even a stone bench by a small tree. Does it actually get used on sunny days? Probably no. He seems like a loner, from what you've seen so far: tall and pale, with wire-rimmed glasses and still grey eyes. Very focused and put together, a turtleneck and dark trousers kind of Mister. Never waving when passing by, though he does glance sometimes - sharp and attentive.

Once you caught him leaning over a bush with back straight and head hanging low. Your stomach gave this funny, nervous twitch, like when a stranger tries to start a conversation in public. He looked your way and then resumed whatever he was doing.

"Whatever" appeared to be something small, sharp limbs and a shiny body. It looked like a beetle, stretched to an absurd degree, and the way he held that thing felt strangely intimate. The same way you'd cradle a baby animal in your hands, rubbing its forehead with a fingertip. Emory put it in a plastic box, sealed it, and went into his house, not sparing you another glance.

This particular memory - of long fingers and a careful grasp - is what makes you think that maybe, possibly, theoretically, he could handle one pesky spider for you. You've seen him with insects a couple of times after, no doubt Mr. Emory is one of those who glue bugs to display boards. The creepy friend in the bathroom must be right up his alley then.

Five minutes later the two of you are staring at each other in awkward silence. Bothering barely acquainted neighbours isn't usually high on your list of priorities, especially if said neighbours look like they prefer being alone. You know it's odd, you know it probably crosses some boundaries, yet here you are.

With a crease on his brow and a tight mouth, Emory isn't thrilled at this sudden visit. Maybe he was in the middle of something, or is just uncomfortable with people invading his space. In any case, you clear your throat.

"Good morning. I live in the house across the road. The white porch? With-"

"I know," it's a dry reply. Not rude, more matter-of-factly; his eyes are fixed on you with a hint of unsettling peculiarity which makes you shift from one foot to the other.

He's not pest control, you think. Or obligated to help in any way. Emory can tell you to kindly fuck off right now and close the door, why did you even come here? It's stupid and intrusive. You're almost ready to take it all back and go home, pretend like nothing happened and just deal with that spider yourself, when he speaks again.

"What do you need?"

He has a quiet voice, a very even direct tone that doesn't encourage small talk, but prompts answers. Now and without pointless filling.

"I know how it's going to sound," you start, cringing inside, "and apologize in advance for bothering you, but I had an impression you collect...bugs."

"Insects. Arachnids."

"Right. So I was thinking if you'd mind removing a spider from my bathroom. I don't want to kill it, but I can't- I can't touch it."

His gaze slowly shifts from your face to the house behind you. As if Emory has an x-ray vision, or a complete mental map of your household layout. Ha, this would be ridiculous. There's no apparent disapproval in his pale face, but something else, a different kind of assessment. Evaluation of how much it is worth spending time on someone with an overgrown lawn? His eyes return back and you feel pinned down.

The longer he stays silent, the more you wish for the ground to open and swallow you whole.

"If you can't I totally understand-"

"What kind of spider?"

It's your turn to stare. How are you supposed to know, you've never studied spider biology. It looks like any other common variety, except creepier because it refuses to leave its spot and stay in the sewer where it belongs. "I...light-brownish, with long legs. Thin? Slender," there's more you could add but any further description will probably make you sound like a total dunce who can't recognize basic arachnids. "Kind of big."

You expect a 'sure', maybe 'I'll be there shortly' or 'no'. What you get is Emory moving past you and walking up your front porch. The scent of laundry detergent and soap, very clean, hits your nose before you rush to open the door.

"Uhm. Second floor," you explain, awkwardly shuffling after him. For the first time since the day you moved in, you worry about what someone might see inside the house. As far as clutter goes, your place is acceptable, perhaps a few forgotten cups around and yesterday's sweater thrown on a couch. Surely, it's not too bad.

Emory, however, doesn't seem interested in the surroundings. The staircase doesn't even creak under his weight, despite the house being around a century old. He steps over the little border which always makes you trip if you walk too fast, like it's not there. Like the corner you often bump your hip into doesn't exist either. He navigates your home with effortless precision, an inward kind of certainty that makes your eyebrows rise. Maybe...the houses on your street have the same blueprint.

Either way, he walks into your bathroom without hesitation, turning on the light. You hover by the doorway, unsure: should you offer something to drink, ask him if he needs anything else or just step away and leave him to do his thing?

The spider is there, hiding under the cabinet, when Emory leans over to observe it. He's probably seen many different specimens, you think, and this isn't interesting at all compared to the ones who have an intricate design or unique behavior.

"She's a part of the Pholcidae family," Emory says suddenly. Just like that there's 'she', instead of 'it', and the spider twitches and shifts. "Daddy long-legs. Harmless."

He puts his palm up close to its back. At first, it seems startled, but after a moment slowly calms down, and moves a leg - left then right - getting familiar with his hand.

"Docile creatures," Emory continues, while the spider walks along the edge of his palm. No running around, no random leaps, stick-like limbs touch and probe him with curiosity, much like you'd study something new. "They stay in the dark, hide in the corners while feasting on smaller things. Your intruder is a useful tenant."

It makes you feel slightly nauseous, how nonchalant he is about holding something that prompts recoil on instinct.

"Do you want to hold her?" Emory turns to you and there's a faint, strange smile on his lips. It doesn't reach his eyes and makes him look like an alien who tries to mimic human expressions based only on observation. His pupils are so dark that you can barely tell the difference between the irises and the rest. They seem bottomless, absorbing all light, but reflecting none in return. You take one step backwards, shaking your head.

"I'll pass."

He keeps staring at you for what feels like forever before returning his attention to the spider crawling on his skin. Emory reaches into his back pocket for a small container.

"Are you not setting her outside?" You ask. "She...she doesn't look like, uh, a rare species."

Not that you're an expert.

"No," Emory closes the lid with a quiet click. "She isn't one. But I'm going to keep her."

And he does. The little captive spider rests at the very bottom of a plastic case when you send the man on his way and thank him for the help. Emory accepts it with a nod, no further words, and then there's only his back when he leaves. The morning air rushes in, crisp and fresh, smelling like grass, tree leaves and soil.

*

It feels like you blink, and three days go by. You still keep an eye on the bathroom cabinet by some sort of habit, however there's nothing out of the ordinary lurking there, no creepy critters and definitely no thin legs scattering in multiple directions. All is well, now you can brush your teeth, take care of business and even lean close without fear something might fall on your head.

It's just a spider. You googled it later, and how common it is around the continents should be a bit ridiculous. Keeping it might equal to going on a beach and picking the most unremarkable pebble you see; Emory certainly could find hundreds more Daddy long-legs wherever he pleased - parks, gardens or forests.

So...why?

The question gnaws at you, together with that smile and cold grey eyes hidden behind glasses' frames. The weirdest part wasn't the expression, it was how you couldn't read it. Despite the obvious display of human emotion, however misplaced and alien, it failed to reveal anything. The smile was there, and yet nothing broke through it, not amusement, nor politeness - or any kind of feeling whatsoever.

Your neighbour is odd.

Not necessarily scary, though there's a sense of mystery surrounding him, it makes you feel like standing next to an iceberg and only seeing its tip. Or you've just read far too many psychological thrillers and your imagination likes to conjure up the wildest scenarios, trying to turn each and every thing into something sinister.

Maybe you should just chill and get some tea, and stop being so dramatic about a guy who came over and politely removed a spider for you.

*

They're not a unique species. Not even remotely uncommon.

He taps the container gently with his index finger, making the spider move back and forth. She doesn't have venom, no poisonous chemicals to injure and kill. Hiding in abandoned corners she does, patient and careful, waiting to catch the wrong fly.

You're just like her. Nothing exciting. Not unique.

Your movement patterns are similar, concealed in a different package you're still predictable: getting home from work, cooking dinner, watching TV shows. Everyday routines.

Fear is a part of your nature. Awkwardness which comes with socializing: you shuffle when uncomfortable, avoid prolonged eye contact and don't like confrontation, he noticed this right away. A quiet type, keeping mostly to yourself unless you need something urgently; and then you rush, like a scared Daddy long legs. There's this shiftiness, an inner desire to be less visible, but also a yearning for recognition because the lack of it hurts. And he saw all those small things, catalogued them one by one, as you moved into his street and became a constant presence.

Asa has never thought about keeping something - someone - so mundane before. Never. He likes rare things, spectacular, and those collected in the basement, they all are, especially when he's finished with them. They're extraordinary, displayed under glass cases and preserved for eternity.

He doesn't collect common species. Daddy long-legs are abundant everywhere around him.

But.

There's the way you linger by the kitchen window during the morning routine, slowly sipping hot coffee. When your lips purse and eyes lose focus for a moment. Or how the corners of them wrinkle sometimes when you have a genuine, amused laugh. It's something like warmth. There's no label for the feeling - positive, negative or neutral, it just is, like one single, meaningless element in an ecosystem.

He shouldn't want someone so average.

And yet Asa watches from the corner of your living room, crouched on the floor by a plant.

You don't hear him, too invested in your personal bubble. Well, he had enough time to polish his craft and figure out how soundless he can be when moving through spaces, how much weight he needs to place onto soles to avoid creaking wood and floorboards.

It's interesting to see you interact with your environment, unaware of being watched. There's an invisible pattern behind each action, even if you think everything is randomized. The web you wove around yourself is cozy, and Asa follows its threads while you check the phone and frown at whatever notification pops up. He is considering. Contemplating this impulsive desire he has yet to identify.

Would it be worth it? Keeping you. Adding you to the collection and seeing what comes out of it, how far his usual approach might take him with you in the same conditions. You're just a face with features. So...ordinary. He wants to pick you apart and look inside to make sure it's not some strange sort of mimicry, camouflage of a different nature hiding something else entirely.

There's this vague idea how those features may feel when touched. He can recall them accurately, even when you've never stood too close. Asa watches quietly from his hiding place, memorizing a displeased mumble and then a frustrated gesture.

You seem so alive.

Those below who are frozen in time now were too, before Asa decided to give them a purpose and make something special and worthy of his attention. They were alive like you, but now they're something better.

What purpose you have remains to be seen.

Asa decides then.

A plain trunk is nestled in the corner behind a coat hanger, no fancy latch or keyhole needed, only an ordinary padlock. You'll fit in nicely, squeezed in the cramped space, it won't be the most comfortable experience, but it's not for long and then...then he can show you the room where others stayed before, and where you'll be next.

Asa looks around one last time: the front door is locked, blinds down, lights off - you get up from the couch and head upstairs, right on the dot. Your house is easy to navigate despite the darkness; Asa knows his way around it, having been here already more than once. A step after a step he follows the soft padding of your bare feet, and when the steps halt, he pulls out a cloth. It's a heavy kind of pleasure to be able to stand right behind and admire your nape, there's a strange sort of vulnerability to it.

Something raw and very exposed.

It takes only a few movements, he catches your yelp into one of his hands and holds it clasped tightly as you thrash. Your nails dig into the fabric of his turtleneck but fail to leave any marks. He's never tired of it, the initial fear of his specimens realizing that their secure habitats are ruined. He doesn't mind this fight for survival.

"Shh," Asa breathes into your ear. "Shh."

The struggle doesn't last long - you're not a fighter - and when your body goes limp, he picks you up. Your perfume is surprisingly light, a very sweet and pleasant aroma, not overwhelming at all like he'd expect it to be.

It's nice.

He puts you in the trunk, a boxy space barely big enough to fit you curled on the side, it's going to take around thirty minutes to reach the hotel and another three to put you in the right cell. You'll sleep the rest of the journey, which is fortunate for everyone. It's always easier to deal with a specimen if they're resting.

The lock clicks softly - it's time to go home.

*

Something runs down your cheek - a drop, a bead of sweat, a touch - and you blink, trying to make sense of it. The surroundings are unfamiliar, blurry shapes with undefined outlines that stretch and wobble before your eyes. Your jaw hurts, clenched so hard that teeth grind together, and it takes a conscious effort to relax.

Where...what?

The living room, a TV program, a soundless whisper that froze the hairs at your nape, then someone was behind you. You remember a sickly sweet smell, and after that nothing but a haze and the dark, and the sensation of being squeezed into a shape. Your legs feel numb, arms too, like you spent hours immobile in one position. Slowly the world sharpens back into focus, but instead of relief there's only dread.

You're in a room.

No bigger than a regular bathroom and void of any furniture beside a cot-like bed, a toilet in the corner and a sink. The walls are a bluish-gray with thin cracks, tiny fissures that create uneven lines from the ceiling all the way down to the floor.

And there's a man, observing you quietly through the thick glass.

You don't notice him immediately, too busy assessing your new location, and when you do the air feels heavier, difficult to move past your throat. He's wearing a mask. Black rubber or something, covering everything except his eyes. He presses two palms against the barrier separating you, the silence stretches into an eternity.

'Who are you? What do you want?' - these are kind of questions you should be asking, but they don't come out. You remain glued to the spot, counting the passing seconds by their painful tick-tock-tick-tocks. One minute turns into two, and he...just stares without moving a muscle in a beyond unnerving manner. Your gaze dips lower to check his clothes, perhaps find a pattern to identify this person later.

There's none. Everything is plain black, like a uniform made to be invisible - turtleneck, pants, even gloves and boots.

It seems that your silence somehow pleases him, because a few moments later he leaves without looking back.

You don't know how much time passes; there's not a window around, only a bare, stark bulb, yellowish in its brightness and casting unpleasant shadows all over the floor. Not a single sound. Traffic, voices of distant passersby or birds - all is absent and doesn't provide even a bit of understanding where the hell you are.

In the end, you...sit down on the bed and wait, because what else is there? Everything is eerily silent and very, very uncomfortable: this emptiness, the absence of noise, the endless ticking of an invisible clock. It's difficult not to cry, but you try your best, somehow it feels important to remain composed. There has to be a reason behind this. There must be one, and you repeat it over and over, like a mantra to soothe the nerves and present your mind with some semblance of logic: once you figure out what's going on, you'll figure out how to get out as well.

Pulling loose threads from your sleeve is poor entertainment, if anything, the strain of boredom and unease gradually grows into anxiety so sharp that you almost miss the sound of approaching footsteps.

He's back again, the masked stranger who stands in the doorway with hands clasped behind his back. A pair of light grey eyes is a splash of different color, but they are blank. They watch with distant curiosity of an animal trainer monitoring a newborn cub. The comparison makes something ugly squirm inside you. A part of you wants to make a run for it, the other keeps yelling that it would be immensely stupid.

One, two, three, four steps he takes into your cell. Your back meets the wall, the chill coming from its solid surface cuts right through the layers of clothing. Five, six. He stops only when there's less than arm's reach between you, then leans to brush away loose strands of hair sticking to your temples. Your stomach goes taut. This scent. Laundry detergent mixed with soap. The turtleneck, grey eyes, very collected kind of Mister.

A sickly shiver of revulsion shoots down your spine, making you curl tighter into a ball. Emory cups your jaw with both hands - they're cold even through the gloves material. This is too close, an unwanted and unpleasant violation of boundaries, and yet he continues to examine your face, like you're some sort of an object he can handle however he pleases.

Your cheek gets a light pat. Any theories about his identity stay unvoiced, mostly because you fear the reaction they might prompt. Something tells you that screaming is a bad idea too. 'Be quiet,' an insistent whisper says deep inside your skull, 'be still.'

His thumbs press to the corners of your mouth. "Open," he orders, and you can't not, even though the whole thing sounds and feels bizarre. "Wider."

There's a quiet click. A flashlight, of those small ones you can easily hold in one hand, shines right into your eyes, making them water from the unexpected brightness. "Don't bite or I'll remove all of your teeth."

It's a simple threat, delivered with such a calm tone, there's no need for yelling when words are that clear and straightforward.

He inspects your mouth, the edges of teeth and gums, your inner cheeks, and you let him, clenching your fists. There's not much you can do, at least that's what you keep telling yourself to ease the heavy, sinking feeling of powerlessness. Your mind chants 'too close' on a loop, urging to wiggle away; you stay. It's unclear what exactly he's looking for - dental or oral diseases, a sore throat, cavities, or the lack of them?

It lasts forever until he straightens back up and puts the light away.

"Good," Emory states. There's another pat to your head before he turns around to leave. "No biting."

The door panel slides with a soft hum, locking shut. And the silence, and the waiting, and the mind numbing monotony is back again.

[kiwiana-writes]

Fic Pride Friday

Thank you to the fabulous @rmd-writes for the tag! As always, though, with 239 fanworks on AO3, this is a beast of a task lmfao.

Rules: Post your favourite line or passage from as many of your published works as you’d like. Let yourself feel proud of your creations! Tag as many people as you post snippets, so your fellow fic friends can be proud, too.

This got long (and I'm like... actively trying not to Feel Bad™️ about that), so four fandoms' worth of snippets under the cut!

Tagging: @agame-writes @affectionatelyrs @anincompletelist @cha-melodius @cricketnationrise

@dumbpeachjuice @firenati0n @getmehighonmagic @happiness-of-the-pursuit @hgejfmw-hgejhsf

@indestructibleheart @inexplicablymine @sparklepocalypse @stereopticons @whimsymanaged

And, of course, an open tag to whoever wants to play!

Red White & Royal Blue

What a beautiful tone aka introspective rimming:

Henry has touched Alex in a thousand different ways since he shook the hand of a beautiful boy with a yellow ipê-amarelo in his pocket and fell in love, so he doesn’t quite understand why he’s trembling as he rolls them both until Alex is on his back, hair spread out on the pillow, lips parted slightly and eyes filled with trust as Henry settles on top of him. With his arms bracketing Alex’s shoulders, Henry places a hand on Alex’s jaw and pours all the love and pride that’s been coursing through his veins since Alex delivered his speech into a deep kiss, his tongue running along Alex’s bottom lip, coaxing it further open. The noise Alex makes in response is devastating. He’s a live wire, arching up into Henry’s touch in a way that is somehow both entirely nonsexual and an unbelievable turn on. Alex moves like he’s trying to crawl inside Henry’s skin, letting out soft moans and shivering gasps that burrow their way between Henry’s fourth and fifth ribs and carve out a place for themselves there, somewhere only Alex has ever reached.

All the Lonely Starbucks Lovers, the coffee shop 5+1 where Alex is so hot it very literally makes Henry stupid:

“How can I do you today?” Bollocksing, buggering fuck. Henry’s going to have to migrate to Tristan Da Cunha. Actually, while that’s the most remote place he knows of, he’s also fairly certain they’re a British Overseas Territory and therefore speak English, which isn’t particularly helpful in his current predicament. He’ll brainstorm, though he expects that the long and sordid history of global British colonisation is really not going to be his friend here. Walking Wet Dream blinks slowly—once, twice—before his face splits into a wide grin. “Tempting fucking offer, sweetheart.” A tongue peeks out to wet a pair of plump lips, which only provides Henry with some extremely vivid ideas for what else might look good between those same lips, and oh Christ, if he actually gets hard underneath this hideous apron he’ll have to lock himself in his own basement. The fact that he doesn’t have a basement is immaterial, really.

A Practical Arrangement, the arranged marriage AU -- tbh I'm proud of ALL of Alex's internal narration about Henry in chapter one but this is a particular favourite:

“I thought Windsor valued courtly manners?” Alex grins widely, tampering down a smirk at the way Henry’s ridiculously chiselled jaw twitches, obviously displeased at the way Alex is going off-script. “As your betrothed, surely you should be showering me with compliments as you greet me?” Henry raises an eyebrow, and looks at Alex in a way that makes him suddenly, viscerally aware of the four inches of height Henry has on him. It’s a height difference that has always put Alex on edge; it never used to be the case, Alex is pretty sure from the vague memories he has of them in their younger years, but between one meeting and the next, suddenly Henry was no longer at his eye level. “As soon as I find something to compliment, I assure you I shall do so.” Alex almost laughs; that was funny. Rude and untrue, but funny. It’s a shocking amount of personality for Henry to display. “Back in Texas, they extol my many virtues, Your Royal Highness,” he drawls, pointedly ignoring June’s scoff. “Do you need me to give you a list?” “I’m sure they do,” Henry says gravely, but there’s a flicker of something at the corner of his mouth that could almost be a smirk. There’s a long pause before he adds: “…in Texas.” Alex’s jaw drops before he can stop it. That absolute fucker.

Kinda think that I might be his type, the Alex and Bea fake dating fic that blew up in a way I wasn't expecting but am forever grateful for; I'm proud of this whole damn fic but this line made me get up and walk away from my computer after writing it lmao:

“Don’t worry, though.” He winks at Bea, tampering down a grin at the way she bites her lip as she realises whatever he’s about to say is at serious risk of making her laugh. “We’re not going to wait until I’m out of school to start popping out great-grandbabies for you. I wanna be papi for real, not just to my little honeypot here, if you know what I mean.” The sharp clatter of Mary’s teacup against her saucer thankfully drowns out the choked wheezing sound from Bea’s throat; Alex only risks glancing at Bea for a moment, just enough to realise she’s fighting for her life not to burst out laughing. He’s not sure how much longer he can keep this up before he sounds like he’s reading lines from a terribly scripted and vaguely racist porno.

Puck It, the college hockey AU with my favourite analogy I've ever written:

Alex is aware that he might be bisexual in the same way he’s aware that he might be allergic to cats; there have been a few brief interactions to make him think it’s probably true, but so far it hasn’t had any impact on his life, so he hasn’t really had a reason to look into it and find out for sure. Now, faced with Henry’s clavicle and the sudden, vivid mental image of sinking his teeth into it, he’s not sure how theoretical it is anymore.

Handprints in wet cement, the 5+1 celebration of Henry's Oxford Slut Phase that is just so important to me:

“It’s not.” Alex’s fingers flex a little, digging into Henry’s skin. “It’s— you had all these experiences, and sometimes I can’t believe you want to share them all with me. That you’ll just tell me about them, and if it’s something we’re both into, we can just… go for it. It means a lot. You know that, right?” Henry blinks at him. If he’s honest, he’s never really understood Alex’s eagerness to hear about Henry’s uni hookups; Henry himself, while not bothered by Alex’s own past, has never felt any particular need to seek out stories about it either. He’d just assumed it was another facet of Alex’s insatiable need to understand things; he hadn’t realised it was important.

I've carried this song in my mind, the Arthur-from-beyond-the-grave fic, have one of the many MANY passages that made me cry to write lmfao:

You don’t need to find Orion, Arthur wants to tell him. I’m in every constellation, in your heart, in your soul. I’m here. I’m always here. But Henry can’t hear him.

Schitt's Creek

Wander Where They Will, aka the swans fic:

It felt like only a moment later that something woke him, though the pitch-black room made it obvious it had been several hours since he dozed off. It had been so long since he was in such close proximity to other people that David didn’t realise what he was hearing, at first. The gasp that rang out in the silence made his eyes snap open and his body tense up, and there was a thump and a high-pitched, muffled moan before the realisation slammed into him. He shifted in the bed, trying to block out the sounds out of a sense of… privacy, he supposed, or decorum. That must be why his stomach was clenching, so tight he could barely breathe. Patrick, it seemed, approached lovemaking the way David has seen him approach everything else—quiet, determined, methodical. All the noises coming from their corner of the cottage seemed to be Rachel’s; only a rhythmic panting betrayed Patrick’s part in the process. Even at the end, he barely made a sound. David couldn’t help thinking, as silence filled the cottage and pulled him backwards into sleep, that it was a terrible shame; that everyone deserved the kind of pleasure that rushed through them, untamed and uncontrollable.

Femslash February 2021, where I decided one entry needed to not only be a drabble (100 words exactly) like every other day's prompt, but ALSO a sonnet:

A princess resides in a castle fair Who Stevie beholds when sneaking ashore— With aquamarine eyes and golden hair, She’s all that Stevie is so longing for. If she had legs, or the princess a tail, Perhaps Stevie could be part of her world— But fate's harsh currents their union assails, Separating them with an eddy's whirl. So Stevie lingers, and watches, and dreams About a union between sea and land, Wishing it weren't as complex as it seems For them to lie together on the sand. But unbeknownst, a princess dreams, too— Of a raven-haired mermaid, pure and true.

And all the rest's illusion, the fic where Patrick works through his feelings about the word queer and every single comment made me cry:

And that’s really the crux of the issue, because it’s not that he’s uncomfortable in his sexuality. If he was, that would be easier to explain — right from the start, David never put a label onto him. Patrick was the one who’d whispered I’m gay into the sliver of space between them that night at Stevie’s, and David had just given him the same easy smile and nod that Patrick’s sure he would have received if instead his declaration had been I’m bi or I’m pan or I don’t know right now. His discomfort is more of a nagging, deep-seated fear that he’s not entitled to queer; that because he’s never been called a slur or worried about whether or not it was safe to kiss his partner in public or even come out to his parents, the word isn’t his to reclaim.

I haven't met the new me yet, the fic where I just dragged everyone onto the Jake/Rachel train with me by force, no I don't care that they never met in canon:

Despite herself, her eyes keep finding her way back to one of the pool players. He’s tall and well-built, with a close-cropped beard; he carries himself easily, joking with his friend, the flannel shirt stretching across his back as he lines up his next shot. When he stands up after sinking the ball easily, he turns around too quickly for Rachel to pretend she was looking elsewhere and their eyes meet. The smile he gives her isn’t quite cocky, though it’s close; it’s just confident, and confidence has always done something for her. She smiles back before picking up her beer, draining the last of it and trying not to grin around the neck of the bottle when his eyes drop to her throat as she does. She’d forgotten how good it can feel, to flirt with a stranger across a… okay, this isn’t exactly a crowded room, but still. Across a room. She doesn’t make any secret of watching as the guy and his friend finish up the game, the one she’s watching sinking the black easily with several of the stripes still on the table, and he hands his cue to his friend before striding over to the bar and leaning over to get the bartender’s attention.

Meet me out at the end of my rope, aka angstapalooza. The outline @ships-to-sail gave me for the end of chapter three just read "David leaves after possibly the most tender but heart wrenching kiss they’ve ever had, that’s ever been written, ever, in the history of written kissing" and then I had to... write that???

Patrick puts the box down gently before he holds his hand out. When David places the key in his palm Patrick wraps his fingers around David’s, their palms pressed together. Despite everything, it still feels like coming home; before he quite realises what he’s doing he presses Patrick back into the doorframe, his free hand wrapping around Patrick’s neck as he pours all the emotion swirling around inside him into one final kiss. Patrick, for his part, tugs David in close, his fingers winding through David’s hair as he shakes under David’s touch. When David finally pulls away he can see Patrick’s cheeks are wet with tears, and he knows his are too. He doesn’t know if they’re his own or Patrick’s or both. Patrick stares at him, his tone helpless. “You’re the love of my life, David Rose.” David closes his eyes as his resolve almost breaks. When he opens them again, Patrick’s face is blurry and indistinct in front of him as he tries not to let more tears fall. “No one is ever going to love me the way you did.” The words are choked out, but when Patrick opens his mouth to reply David shakes his head to stop him. “But no one ever lied to me like you did, either.”

How much love will you happily take -- I apparently awakened a humiliation kink in multiple people with this one and I will never not be proud of that 🤣

“No, that’s not— it’s not for lack of trying.” David being so kind about this is making it ten times harder to spit the words out and he drops his gaze, picking at Stevie’s faded bedspread so he doesn’t have to see the look in David’s eyes. He can feel the all-too-familiar crackle of humiliation crawling up his spine, knows his embarrassment is clear on his face, and it makes his throat tighten and his stomach clench and his cock twitch and he hates it, loves it, wants to poke at it like a bruise until it consumes him. “It’s been, um, a size issue?” There’s a beat, and then David is placing a gentle finger under his chin and turning Patrick to face him. His face is warm and open and Patrick likes him so much it’s kind of terrifying; he desperately needs this night not to end up another disaster.  “That,” David says, voice soft, “is only an issue if we make it an issue. And I don’t plan on making it an issue.”

Wearing glass slippers, I got my Chucks, the Stevie/Alexis tattoo/flower shop AU my beloved:

“Did people send you flowers when your aunt passed away?” Alexis asks pointedly.  “Yeah.” She doesn’t say, It was a huge pain in the ass, actually, because I had to throw them all out when they died, but from the look Alexis is giving her at least some of that must show on her face.  “Congratulations and commiserations,” she says slowly. “That’s when everyone wants to give flowers: births, deaths, weddings, anniversaries. It’s like, human nature or whatever. There’s something…” she takes a deep breath. “It’s a sign of trust, I think. To be a tiny part of someone’s biggest moments like that. Even if just from the sidelines.” Stevie has tattooed children’s names and wedding bands, handprints and pawprints and important dates. She’s never thought about it quite like that before. “I get that,” she murmurs. 

Great Acoustics, aka the cast did a Zoom thing in-character during Covid and had a throwaway line to justify David and Patrick not being in the same room and I just entered a fugue state and wrote porn about it in like an hour:

They make it ten days before their first noise complaint, which is frankly about nine days longer than David expected. They’ve been worse than usual, to be fair, with something as simple as a lockable door apparently now an aphrodisiac to both of them. Patrick goes about twelve shades of red when the official notice is pushed under their door, and then the pillow makes a reappearance.  It’s all very fucking hot, actually, seeing buttoned-up, in-control Patrick reduced to a whimpering, begging, uncontrollable mess. Eventually, David manages to convince him that if something must go in his mouth during sex, there are several better options. No, not that. Well, obviously, sometimes that.

A focused moment made, kinkverse part one that I very much intended to be a oneshot lmfao RIP

For a few moments, the only sound is their combined harsh breathing as they recover. Almost before David realises what’s happening he’s being pulled gently to his feet, and then Patrick is framing David’s face in his hands and kissing him soundly. And David’s been kissed a lot during a scene, and a few times before one, but never once has someone kissed him in a sex club after they’ve already come. He lets out a startled but not unhappy yelp and Patrick takes the opportunity to plunge his tongue into David’s now-open mouth, chasing the taste of himself, making them both groan. Finally Patrick releases him with one last, almost chaste, kiss. He drops one hand but leaves the other on David’s cheek, gazing carefully at him, his face soft and open. “I’ve never done that before, with a guy,” Patrick confesses after a moment of silence.  David raises an eyebrow, quirks a lip. “The flogging or the blowjob?” “Uh,” Patrick scratches the back of his head as he flushes slightly. “Both? But also, um.” His eyes flicker down to David’s lips and back up, and David gives a soft little Oh of understanding.  “Baby dom and baby gay, huh?”

Your heart is keeping time with me, the 50 First Dates AU that I think has the best ending I've ever written? So, uh, spoilers-ish, I guess:

This isn’t a romantic comedy. There will be no miraculous, medically impossible recovery. Every morning for the rest of his life, David will wake up and have to be told that he has a husband he doesn’t recognise; a husband who loves him. But after he’s been told, Patrick will set out to prove it to him, with laughter and music and patient understanding. And because love is so much more than conscious memory, David will go to sleep each night in Patrick’s arms, safe and secure and content. Even though it’s not a film or a fairytale, they will still live happily ever after.

Other

We always walked a very thin line, aka the fic I furiously spite-wrote in three hours after watching Happiest Season lmfao:

When they were little, they were convinced if they practised enough they could develop some sort of psychic link; talk to each other over long distances without tying up the phone lines their dads always used for important business calls. They gave up eventually, but Riley finds herself desperately wishing for the talent now. Come on, Harper. Be braver for her than you were for me. “She’s lying!” The words burst hysterically out of Harper’s mouth, and Riley’s heart sinks.

We knew we were the fortunate ones, because obviously I watched episode 3 of The Last Of Us and immediately started writing, what do you take me for?

He knows that the last four years have been kinder to him than to almost anyone else; he also knows that he doesn’t look like those men in the magazines, the ones he used to drive thirty miles out of his way to buy, shoulders hunched and not making eye contact with the store clerk in case he found himself subjected to judgement — or worse, conversation.

[blindmagdalena]

What do you think Homelander’s attraction to Becca was? It’s not like at the Christmas party she was the only woman there, and by that point he had no idea who Butcher was. The actress that plays her is attractive, but the later scenes (season two and even just their initial introduction) between them suggest there’s something more to his attraction.

It’s obvious in the season two scenes that Homelander and Becca have, he has some lingering attraction. I think that’s primarily led by the fact that they have a son together and Homelander desperately wants a family, and also that Homelander is looking for a new woman to attach himself onto since Madelyn died. Perhaps he just wants what he can’t have especially knowing that she’s still in love with Butcher and he wants someone to love him that unconditionally. The main reason I thought of this is because in my opinion, Homelander isn’t the type of character to do something without a reason. Usually he has one even if it’s not a good reason.

ah yes, potentially one of the most contentious/controversial plot points in the fandom. canon gives us VERY little to go on here, so excuse me while I just ramble my take on the whole situation. i extrapolate a good amount. everyone you ask is going to have a different answer, and each one is as valid as any other. this is simply mine!

Homelander's greatest sin isn't wrath or pride. It's envy. He is a bottomless well of yearning for what he doesn't have, and he is viciously covetous. We see this play out most plainly in his one sided beef with a literal baby.

When he meets Becca, she's beautiful, quick witted, strong willed and independent. A career woman. Not only that, she's helping manage his career by handing his social media, which is part of his public perception. Very important to him! He already has a ton of wires crossed when it comes to the women in his life acting as both coworkers/Vought employees and emotional surrogates, i.e. Maeve, Madelyn and Vogelbaum. Plus who knows how many nanny mommies.

At this point, we don't know how long he's been with Maeve, but we have at least another 6 years before the pair breaks up. He's enjoying Maeve, but he wants more. He always wants more. Maybe he wants a wife, and she's refusing him that.

But Becca is a wife. He sees that ring on her finger and it boils his blood that he doesn't have that classic, romantic symbol of commitment. Of love. Worse yet when he meets her husband! The figurative boogeyman. The baby stealing his mommy and her milk. We're not there in the story yet, but we do see a trend here. It likely didn't start here: imagine what it was like for him to find out Vogelbaum had kids. Kids he loved. I bet that gutted Homelander. It should have been him.

Homelander, in his mind, can never win. Can never have enough. Anyone else having means they are directly taking away what should be his. It could be that it was never really about Becca specifically so much as the archetype she represented.

That carries us into season 2 where Becca takes on an additional archetype that Homelander is now lacking: mother. I think you're right on the money that a good amount of his attraction comes from the fact she's the mother of his son.

He falls pretty deep down the fantasy family rabbit hole with Becca, though. He not only inserts himself into their lives and routine, he takes a renewed interest in Becca. He snoops through her things, smells her clothes, and engages with her well beyond just interacting with Ryan. Then comes the scene where he finds her hidden stash of Billy merch, and the fantasy is shattered. She's still in love with another man. She's a wife, but she's not his wife. She's the mother to his son, but she's not someone who will fulfill those emotional needs for him. I've made this comparison before, but it's very reminiscent to the breakdown he has when he sees his baby blanket in his fake childhood home. He moves on VERY easily to Stormfront when she not only presents herself as a mother to her own child, but a potential mother for his child.

I'm backtracking a little here, but when Maeve called Homelander over from Billy and Becca at the party, I always got the vibe she was doing so quite purposefully. I wonder how much of their early relationship was Maeve feeling like she was performing damage control. Managing him, curbing his destructive behaviors. Did she see that covetous edge in his eye when he would look at Becca, at her ring? Did she try to tell him to leave her alone, play it like a joke?

We have the deleted scene where Maeve says the reason they broke up was because he couldn't keep it in his tights, but we don't really have any other explicit instances or even mentions of Homelander liberally sleeping around. Did she know about Becca, or at the very least did she make an educated guess when the woman disappeared? Maybe she felt like he did it to spite her. Did she know about Madelyn?

Ultimately we know Maeve becomes complicit in his crimes. She feels her hands are dirty with the same blood. She becomes jaded, she's no longer the hero. She's just an accessory. I definitely don't think it started that way, though.

anyways, I hope this somewhat answered your question! I have a tendency to jump around a lot and word vomit, but this generally covers my take on why that all went down the way it did.

Honestly, I would love to write a fic someday that digs more into my thoughts here. Becca deserves so much more than what she got from the narrative.

[smittenroses]

— Broken Parts

Carrd | Ko-fi | Patreon | Archive of Our Own Mirror

Fandom No Straight Roads Pairing 1010/reader Chapter Summary The boys have landed themselves in a situation again, and with their situation comes a new addition.

Masterlist | Next Chapter »

Rin knew he wasn’t special, he was a robot that was made to be easily replaceable; his mind was able to travel between bodies, different systems — it was in his nature to be able to overcome and adapt the many scenarios he would have to face, but, this little robot that had been cleaning their home was now laying at his feet, broken.

This robot couldn’t be as quickly replaced as they did.

It was made to be sturdy, it had been made to last a long time, but, as it laid there in a mess of parts from where their bodies had collided with the machine, Rin couldn’t help but give it a nudge with the tip of his foot, watching the lights of the machine slowly blink away, almost as if trying to get out a message before it finally would die.

“I didn’t break it.” Haym was the first to speak, yellow eyes shifting between the different brothers as he stood there, the tablet that he had been crying over moments before clutched to his chest, the sleeves of his shirt hung over his hands. “I swear I didn’t break it, I didn’t move from the couch by choice.” The couch was currently flipped, an effort made by Eloni to keep himself upright when his prank had gone off, causing the couch to jump from his position.

“I didn’t break it either.” Purl-hew was the next to speak as he stayed as far back as he could, though he wasn’t able to hide the panic in his eyes at the scene, Rin being able to see the way his eyes glitched behind the glasses, either knowing he broke the machine or he had sustained damage to his visuals. “I think Zimelu broke it.”

“The fuck?” Zimelu started, the red one throwing his arms up in the air as he spoke, “I didn’t break anything, I was just proving you wrong that you’re not the one they like the most.”

Rin knew the truth behind it but he kept his mouth shut, letting the silver eyes of his flicker over to Eloni, watching as he held the oversized party popper in his arms; a prank that the two of them had been planning for show on an upcoming live, it seemed that Eloni’s effort had gone to waste, instead, it now painted the crime scene in streamers and what Rin could assume was the washable ink that children would use in their art.

“Well, I didn’t break it either.” Rin tossed the script he had been rehearsing onto the glass coffee table that stood next to the robot, the only thing that hadn’t been upturned in that wasn’t bolted to the floor or the wall. It didn’t resemble much of the clear substance it was made of more than a party table cloth one would use at a children’s birthday party, but, as he crouched down to the robot again, he could see that there was still some battery left.

He watched the warning flash on the screen in multiple languages, the wheels of the robot spinning wildly in an attempt to try and upright itself despite the odd angle the wheels were bent at, knowing that the smell of burning rubber would be incredibly hard to miss to the human nose.

“We should bury it,” Zimelu said, picking up the cleaner robot easily, the strength that they had built into their skeletons coming in handy as he held the bot like it was nothing, listening to the inner mechanisms try and work themselves out. “Hide this from the big J, he can’t get upset if he can’t find it, yeah?”

“It wouldn’t be a bad idea…” The party popper was gone from his hands as Eloni stood next to Zimelu, picking up the mess of wiring that spilled from the robot’s neck, piling it on top, “He can’t remember them all, right?”

“Until he notices that a robot is missing from a charging station.” Purl-hew’s fingers noticeably clutched the book in his hands as he spoke, barely containing the strength from ripping it in two, “Maintenance days, routine cleaning, he’ll eventually notice.”

“Then we hide the charger too.”

The noises blurred together into one at this point, Rin staring hard at the machine that sat in Zimelu’s arms, watching the warning blink and flicker, watching the robot desperately run a system diagnostic and silently call for help. It was pitful, he was glad that the robot was unable to talk or do anything like they did, fearing that the robot would scream out and sound too human for them to do what they needed to.

A shrill screech filled the room, Zimelu dropping the robot onto the hard wooden floors out of shock, the robot screaming its final cry before the screen finally went flat, laying limp in a sea of bright colours and several colourful bodies. Rin heard them long before they came, his head tilting towards the doorway to watch as their creator and their ‘father’ rounded himself into the room, a sword high in his hand.

One would question where he got the sword, but, when there was a sword around the corner every step you took just for decoration, you knew where it came from long before you could guess where he got it from. “What was that?!” Neon J shouted in alarm, the screen beeping with alarm as he attempted to locate the sound of what had screamed.

The sword was lowered as the boys stepped away from the body, revealing the cold metal to their creator. If he still had his face, Rin could imagine that it would be twisted in annoyance, the screen turning off for a moment before walking off slowly, a familiar white and pink face peeking around the corner soon after.

“What was that about not needing human staff?” Eve tsked to the cyborg, leaving the robot boys to stand in the middle of their mess.

Rin picked up the script again, leaving the room.

Rin had rarely found himself interested in others outside of their social circle, however, when a new face showed up at his home, he couldn’t help but be taken aback. Neon J rarely brought in help from the outside, even rarer that they would be within the home. Rin had listened to the ramblings of Neon J before about his paranoia that someone would come and steal things or even steal their blueprints to make knockoffs, but, Rin had never really thought on it too much until now.

With the uniform and the cleaning supplies they lugged around everywhere, he knew this had to be the replacement for the robot that now sat at the bottom of the bin, but, it felt weird knowing that there was a living human in the mansion’s walls that wasn’t one of the other stars.

Even weirder still, she didn’t seem to react too ‘fannish’ around them. As a robot built to entertain and bring joy to people, Rin was used to people looking directly at him whenever he passed by, always reacting in a very similar manner no matter who it was, but, every time he passed this maid, this lady, he noted how she never batted an eye unless she was spoken to. It hadn’t taken long for his brothers to follow in his footsteps in their confusion, Rin able to see how each tried to gain knowledge on who the favourite may be by being around her.

She didn’t react besides the pleasantries.

“Do you think she’s a robot too?” Haym whispered, the group of ‘brothers’ hiding around the corner from where the maid currently worked, watching as she polished silverware, sitting at the big dining table that only served as decoration more than practicality. It had been a question Rin had asked already, but, watching Haym’s eyes turn briefly red before returning to their usual yellow, he watched his shoulders fall.

The maid had a heat signature, she was human.

“Maybe she’s a super spy who’s been sent by another government to steal us?”

“Eloni, that’s the stupidest thing I have heard you say.” Zimelu’s answer was to the point as he leaned against the wall next to Purl-hew, Rin turning his head just enough to watch as his brother flicked through something on his phone with the help of the synthetic skin on his fingertips.

They said they were tagging along to make sure the other three weren’t getting in trouble, but Rin knew they were just as curious about the human woman.

“It could be likely…” Rin said, peeking his head around the corner again, watching as the human put down another spoon, the small pile of silver growing, “But she’s also good at what she does.”

The silence was deafening, too much so, but, as Rin saw something begin to descend from the ceiling in the middle of his vision, he crossed his eyes and watched as a spider slowly crawled down, and down, flicking his vision between Haym who was crouched below and the spider, reaching out his hand to grab at the web string that connected it above. Watching with horror as the spider dropped the string, it landed on Haym’s hand as it reached up to adjust some of the fake hair on his head.

The fallout was instant, Haym attempting to get away from the spider as fast as he could — too bad he didn’t realise he went backwards, crashing into Rin’s body as he went. Crashing, banging, errors flashing across Rin’s screen, it all happened so quickly and everything was just too loud for him to hear the rushed footsteps over to the doorway, seeing the maid staring down at them with such alarm.

He knew one of his hands disconnected, that was for sure, but, as he sat up, he took note of the pressure in his lap and looked down. Haym’s head stared up at him, disconnected from the rest of his body.

“Oh goodness!” The woman said, her hand coming up to her mouth as she took in the full extent of the chaos, “Are you ok? Do you feel pain?” It seemed that Neon J hadn’t briefed her on how they worked based on the reactions, Rin still attempted to clear his system of the errors as he listened to the maid, remaining seated on the floor as he ran a system diagnostic to check for anything else missing.

“We just fell for you, sweetheart.” Rin’s programming took control, feeling the control he had slip for a moment as it took over, spitting out the line that he had been pre-programmed to say in case of collisions on the stage, his brothers saying similar things that even Rin couldn’t help but cringe at, their voices as flat as the line was.

Yet she didn’t react to it, instead choosing to kneel by Haym’s body, hands hovering over it, almost unsure of what to do.

“Having trouble touching perfection?” Haym said. Rin knew he was crying on the inside knowing that he hated that line in particular, but, as her gaze focused on the disembodied head on Rin’s lap, the flirting, the programmed lines, they came to a halt at what was said.

“Do… Do I have permission to touch you?”

Rin had never heard it before. Fans had a habit of taking, and taking, and taking, never giving anything back in return despite everything that they did for them. He was used to just being the machine that entertained people, that was just there to be… a machine.

Never before had he been asked this, never before had his system gone as quiet as it did, leaving Rin’s conscious mind floating in a void.

“That…” Rin knew that if he were alive like he had thought about many times before, he would have a dry mouth, but, processing his words carefully, he nodded slowly, “That would be great.”

The maid’s hands worked with instruction, Haym finding his own words as he instructed her what to do, Rin holding his brother’s head upright with the hand that was still attached, watching as the woman asked questions, made sure they were comfortable with each movement, with each touch she gave to the parts that had been flung across the hall.

It made Rin’s system question the feeling that warmed his circuits as she finally got to him, her hand gripped his disconnected hand, holding back the feeling of wanting to squeeze it back as he felt his system pair it back to his body, fingers twitching as the warmth left his palm.

He was the ‘selfish’ one for attention on stage, but, he wished he was able to feel that warmth a little longer.

[thatchickwithtoomanyhobbies]

Leap of Faith (Aiello x Reader)

***You mooks wanted it, and I decided I’d do it for the fandom- Character x Reader stories. I do this very reluctantly, with Aiello being my first victim. Aiello has been in love with his female best friend (that’s you) for years, and has an inkling she feels the same. In an emotional moment while at home between Kasserine and Europe, he takes a leap of faith with the girl of his dreams. Also you are catholic in this story for plot purposes. Don’t worry if you’re not, neither am I. The story just works better that way.***

They were walking together to the ice cream shop on the corner, the way they’d done since they were kids every Friday afternoon. With him getting his double scoop of coffee and her with her plain vanilla- something he always teased her for. Usually about her being boring, which to him she could never be.

This time felt different, however. It was the last time he’d see her again for a while, as he was being shipped off into the war effort yet again.

She was quieter than usual today, which usually meant something was on her mind. He always knew when something was going on with her, she was his best friend after all. Although he’d be lying if he said he didn’t wish they could be more.

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

(Y/N)(L/N)- Frank Aiello’s best friend since they were seven years old in Catholic school. She’d fallen down on the playground and he, the gentleman he was, picked her up and took her to the nuns to get patched up. They’d been inseparable ever since.

As they grew up, they did everything together. From their Friday ice cream outings (she refused to let him call them dates) to her attending all his baseball games, to hot-wiring her father’s car in high school for a joyride.

It was sometime after she got her first boyfriend when they were sixteen that he noticed the first inklings of stronger emotions bubbling to the surface. Whenever she’d bring her beau around, he’d be filled with seething jealousy. Although he’d certainly never tell her that. He didn’t want to ruin his friendship with her, so he buried the feelings under baseball and drumming- places two and three on the list of things he liked most about life.

He could deny them no longer when they boy she’d been seeing dumped her for another girl. She’s gone to his house sobbing and, being the friend he was, he held her in his arms as she cried, trying his best not to cry himself. He’d always hated seeing her upset.

It was then he knew. He was so hopelessly and madly in love with the girl crying in his arms. So much so it took every ounce of willpower not to kiss her there and then. This wasn’t the time. He was selfishly glad that that chucklehead had screwed up this bad. Maybe now she’d realize that she should be with him instead of that jerk. Unfortunately for him, she never did seem to realize just how deep his feelings for her went. At least not then.

When he was shipped off to Kasserine, she’d written him a letter every week. Telling him the most random bits of her everyday life while he was gone. He always wrote her back- hoping, praying, that maybe absence would make the heart grow fonder, and that maybe she’d finally give him a chance to love her right.

Eventually, her letters started started to revolve more around his absence rather than her own life. How much she missed him, how she couldn’t wait for him to be home, how she missed their ice cream dates. His heart had skipped a beat on the last one. She called it a date. Could it be? Could she finally be starting to feel the same feelings he had been feeling for so long?

He was back home for a brief furlough. He was being shipped off again in a couple of days, either to the Pacific or to Europe. He’d decided to spend it with her, not knowing if he’d ever see her in the flesh again, or if their next meeting would be at heaven’s gates after she’d lived a long life with some other man. Frank hated that thought. He wanted to be the one she spent her life with.

The night prior he’d decided to talk to Nonna about it. Nonna always had good advice for everyone about every subject on God’s green earth, so he figured maybe she’d have some for him too. What did he do with the all the love he had for this girl? Did he let her go and let her be happy with some other guy? Or did he pour his heart out to her and risk ruining their friendship for good?

He said as much to Nonna, who in response whacked him upside the head with her stirring spoon.

“How did I end up with such a stupid boy for a grandson? Are you blind, Francis?” She had yelled at him, whipping her spoon wildly through the air and getting her homemade vodka sauce on everything. He cringed at her usage if his first name. He much preferred to go by Frank, or as (Y/N) called him, Frankie.

“No, Nonna. Just confused.” He responded rubbing his head. “And concussed,” he thought to himself. She didn’t need to hit him to get her point across.

“Frankie, if you haven’t noticed by now, then you’re hopeless! Have you seen the way she looks at you? Have you seen the way she smiles when she’s with you? The way she acts around you? That girl is in love with you and you’re too blind and stupid to see it!” She yelled at him, pointing at him with the spoon and dripping more sauce on the floor and her grandson.

“Nonna, she doesn’t think of me that way. That’s my problem,” he said leaning against the kitchen counter.

“Oh mio Dio! Aiuta questo povero, stupido ragazzo!” Nonna yelled before taking another swing at the man with the sauce-covered spoon. This time he managed to duck out of the way. Why did this crazy lady keep trying to hit him?

“Frankie, Saint Valentine himself couldn’t put together a better match for you than (y/n). Tell her, before it’s too late. Take a leap of faith, Francis. She may surprise you.” Was that all? That wouldn’t help him anymore than another whack with the spoon. “And take a bath before you go. You are covered in sauce.”

“Yeah. No thanks to you, Nonna,” he thought. Could she be right? Did he have a chance? Could she possibly feel the same way about him? He’d have to think about that while he washed the sauce out of his hair.

When he finally got out of the bath and returned to his room, he found that Nonna had left a small box along with a note on his pillow.

“Take the leap” was all the note said, and inside the box was her own engagement ring. The one his grandfather had given her nearly 60 years before. Was she serious? He couldn’t just propose to her out of the blue like this! He’d scare her off for sure. But if Nonna was sure….

He was taking her out on one of their ice cream dates tomorrow. May God and Saint Valentine help him. He was probably out of his mind for doing this. But if it went well, it would all be worth it.

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

“What’s wrong, (n/n)?” He asked her, stopping abruptly in the middle of the sidewalk and turning to face her. She looked ready to burst into tears, from what he couldn’t imagine.

“Nothing. I’m fine,” came the abrupt reply. Yep. Something was wrong, and her response said she didn’t want to talk about it.

“I know you better than that. What’s wrong? You know can tell me anything,” he pressed, brushing a rogue lock of (h/c) hair away from her forehead.

“Just lay off, Frank! I’m fine! Just stop!” She yelled at him, batting his hands away. She’d never yelled at him like that before in all the years he’d known her. Not even when his mischievous schemes got them both into trouble. Something was eating at her.

“No you’re not,” he said, grabbing her by the hand and pulling her back in the direction of his house. “We’re not going anywhere until you tell me what on earth is going on.”

She remained quiet as he dragged her back down the block to his house. He turned to look at her before unlocking his front door. Were those tears in her (e/c) eyes? What could possibly be causing her this much emotional turmoil?

What if…? No. It couldn’t be. She’d been fine when he left for basic before Kasserine. She’d given him a hug and sent him on his way with a promise to write to him as often as she could. She hadn’t even shown up to the train station to say goodbye. But what if?

“What is wrong? Please! Tell me what’s wrong, (y/n)! You’re scaring me!” He told her, closing the door behind them and grabbing her by the shoulders. She looked around the room, looking anywhere but his eyes, her hands shoved into her coat pockets. She was beginning to break, a few tears slipping down her cheeks.

“Please. Just tell me what’s wrong. Please, (n/n). I can’t help you unless you tell me what’s wrong.” He could hear the tears in his own voice as he spoke. Damn it! If there was one person who could make him cry, it was (Y/N). She’d never done this. She always told him everything no matter how difficult it was. What was so wrong that she was refusing to tell him this? What if…?

He shook the thought out of his head. This wasn’t the time to be thinking of his own feelings. He pulled her over to the couch and sat down, pulling her down with him.

“Please, just talk to me, (n/n). You’re scaring me,” he told her again, pulling her head to his chest and wrapping his arms around her. It wasn’t lost on him that this was the same position they were in when he first realized how deep his feelings for her went. She was crying into his chest now, and he could feel a few of his own tears beginning to slip over. What if?

He couldn’t. Could he? Was it worth the risk? What was the harm? What if that’s what it’s all been leading to? What if? What if that’s what was bothering her? What if? What if this was the moment for that leap of faith Nonna had told him to take? He took a deep breath, trying to stop his own silent tears. Leap of faith…

“You know I love you, (y/n). I know you do. And I think you love me too. And I think you don’t want me to leave without knowing, but you’re too afraid to say it out loud.”

His feelings were out in the open now, and there was no taking it back. He stroked her hair, hoping and praying that she’d be receptive. If she wasn’t, he’d respect it. It would hurt, but he’d let her go if that’s what she wanted. This girl he knew everything about, he’d love to be the one by her side through all of life’s trials and celebrations.

He rested his head on hers, still softly crying. He rubbed circles on her back, each one speaking a silent ‘I love you.’ Was she holding onto him even tighter now? He held her closer to him, whispering his love into the top of her head, praying that it would sink in. That maybe she’d realize he meant every word. That maybe she’d share his feelings. That maybe they’d have a future together after this cruel war was over. Suddenly he heard her muffled voice in his arms:

“I love you, too.”

Finally. The words he had longed to hear for so many years had escaped her lips. He could cry from the joy he felt in this moment. He would do anything for this girl. He’d swim across the ocean if she wanted him to, she need only speak the word.

Should he? Did he dare? They loved each other already. And they already knew everything there was to know about the other. There was nothing that could be discovered in a courtship that he didn’t already know about her. Would she give him the answer he longed to hear? Leap of faith…

He pulled the ring box out of his pocket. He didn’t know how to ask her. He was risking everything with this one move.

“Wait for me,” he told her, presenting her with the jewelry. “Wait for me, and when I get home we’ll go to the priest and have him marry us. We can have a life together.”

His answer was given to him in the form of a passionate kiss. Fireworks went off in his head as the moment he’d imagined for so long played out better than in his daydreams.

His girl in his arms, a ring on her finger, a future full of promise to come home to. The one leap of faith had paid off.

***And today you mooks learned that yours truly is not only angsty, but is also a hopeless romantic (emphasis on the hopeless). I hope you people that wanted this like how it turned out. And let me know if you want more like this.***

[goshen-applecrumbledore]

this is the same person who sent you that embarrassingly long ask back in june(?), but i just wanted to say i read your most recent The Bear fic and (as always) was left falling in love with your writing once more.

i believe you've mentioned/alluded to this being the case in the fandom as a whole, but carmy and richie seem to be a difficult pair to write accurately, even in a platonic sense. you've managed to find this perfect, almost chaotically indulgent balance between the dialogue-dense vacuum of space they occupy and the fast-paced, warped world of carmy's mind.

what stood out to me the most in this fic was that even carmy's thoughts were written like he speaks- a jumble of fragmented fears littered with swears and memories of regret. it's truly a beautiful way to draw readers into the atmosphere you've crafted.

i really loved the ending as well! it's probably the most realistically happy ending of any of your works that i've read, although the true detective one comes close. this next part might be a reach, but seeing the fumbling affection they've formed from literal years of frustration and pure Want slowly bleed into the world of their real lives is touching. their minds are wired so differently, but they both have this aching need to have their own worth proven to them. even if they let this need shine through the cracks of their defensive shells in wildly different ways, there's still a place where they intersect.

as always, apologies for the long rant... i thank you with all my heart for your lovely work, and i'll childishly confess that reading your pieces always fills me with desire to write fics of my own one day, so thank you for that (unintentional) push as well <3

there are no embarrassing asks!!! there is only passion and kindness!!!! thank you for sharing yours!!!!

thank you very much for all this, it's very nice. re: Carmy's thoughts sounding like the way he speaks, that's one of my favourite things to try to do in stories. I always write in (I forget the word for this) the type of thing where it's third person but the 'narrator' is very much only one person and their POV, interpretations, thoughts, etc. I really really like that because it lets them be an unreliable narrator, like Carmy, even though it's kind of presented as an objective third-person. and that also makes it fun in fic especially to write different fics from different characters' POV to give you more to explore. I'm glad you felt it worked, he's very fun to write from. I spend a lot of time trying to not be like carmy.

AND thank you on the ending. the entire point of that fic was to write something with a happy ending because I realized my other 2 bear fics do not end happy on paper, only in the not-real-not-going-to-write epilogues I have in my head. same with the TD fic, it's so interesting to try to think of what happy would look like for two people who are chronically unhappy, and make it feel real.

you should absolutely write fics. everyone starts somewhere and it'll be great. godspeed pal

[outrunningthedark]

i feel like i watch the show the same way you do. i pick up on the ~vibes~ and see how buddie COULD work if they went that route, but i don’t think they ever will and i also see how if they did it would come completely out of left field to a casual viewer

Yep, this is exactly it. I was absolutely 100% in the same boat as the bloggers coming up with ways in which every Buck and Eddie story line can bring us to canon!Buddie back when I first joined fandom (in time for season four) right up through 6x01, but after that...sometime between Eddie not going to Buck to talk about Chris's quest for independence (despite CONFIRMING that if Chris would confide in ANYONE it would be Buck) and Buck actually being a successful sperm donor after what you'd think would have been multiple "signs" from the universe that he shouldn't go through with it...my brain like, rewired itself where I just...stopped looking at everything as a shipper. And listen, there's nothing wrong with only watching a show for a ship - I have admitted many times that the Buckley-Diaz fam is what interests me most because of Chris's presence - but realizing that this show and this ship doesn't dictate my happiness or my reason for existing on tumblr allowed me to step back and take the content for what it is in the moment instead of trying to figure out what secret meaning there could be behind it *if* (I think there are some folks who definitely forget we're speaking in hypotheticals!) the show runners are contemplating making the transition from friends to romantic lovers. Everything we've seen from Buddie so far in s6 is an extension/continuation of something from a previous season, save for Eddie showing legit fear when Buck was dangling from the wire, but...even in his delirious state post-shooting he was worried about Buck, right? The concern was elevated a notch to match the circumstance. (& then Oliver had to come out and be like "Please do not read into it right now. It's how a best friend should react.") The biggest reason why it felt/feels "different" to people is because we just went through well over a full season of both characters in relationships and the show couldn't throw either of them into ANOTHER ONE right away, so we were bound to get Buddie/Buckley-Diaz content while living the single life to mirror s3. The funny thing is, though (it's one more thing nobody wants to point out)...Buddie content outside of work was nonexistent in 6A because of "different dynamics" WHILE THERE WERE NO LOVE INTERESTS. Once 6B came around and Eddie's dating arc was about to start? Once Buck was about to meet Natalia for the first time? Oh. Look who can be friends again. How, exactly, is that different from what we witnessed in s4 and s5? Uh huh. That's what I thought. :)

[inklingofadream]

Ink's 2023 Fic

It’s the end of another year, and you know what that means! Or you joined me this year and don’t, one of the two. At the end of every year I post a list of everything I wrote to become my blog’s pinned post for the upcoming year. However, this year, it’s a bit different. We’ll get to that in a minute.

According to my AO3 stats, I posted 709,908 words of fic in 2023, across 8 fandoms and spread over 64 individual works. That’s a 765.784% increase in word count from last year! I’m unwell!

Normally, I post everything I wrote, split up by fandom and in chronological order, with basic stats and descriptions that vary between synopsis, liner notes, excerpts, or all of the above. However, 45 of those 64 works were written for Whumptober this year. Since they’re mostly for The Magnus Archives (dominating the list as usual) and many of them are very short, I’m not going to list all the TMA fics. I’ll list my favorites and ones I think got less attention than they deserved, as well as all fics for other fandoms, and since that’s my most popular stuff I’m listing it last/under the cut. Wordcount and relationships (romantic or platonic, healthy or not) are listed, but check the AO3 tags, warnings, and notes, as I won’t be including the content warnings here.

Batman

Mom’s Been On a Parenting Kick Lately- 9k, WIP, Talia/Bruce, Talia & Batkids;This is still getting off the ground (I need to get back to it), but I’m excited about the future of this fic! It’s my take on Jason’s post-resurrection time with the League of Assassins, but with timelines turned into spaghetti to facilitate bonding. Talia is currently in possession of 3 batkids, but she isn’t done stealing Bruce’s kids yet :)

i'd walk a wire, jump through a fire for you- 800, complete; literally just just shy of 1k about Dick have feelings about falling and parents

The Locked Tomb

lyin’ on our backs and countin’ the stars- 900, complete, John&Gideon; I’m actually shocked there aren’t way more John and Gideon “bonding” fics out there. This one also has a backstory for Gideon and Ianthe’s friendship bracelets!

The Adventure Zone- Balance

old worn out suit and shoes- 600, complete, Taako&Lup; Post-finale nightmares for Taako, now that he can remember he has a sister to lose

Malevolent

Please Come Back To Me- 2.9k, complete, Parker&Arthur; Parker lives and goes to hunt down and kill whatever used Arthur to try to kill him.

You’re here. That’s all I need to know.- 300 complete; Arthur finds Faroe in the bath.

Living, Dead, or Undecided?- 1.7k, complete; Arthur is sacrificed to the King in Yellow as punishment for what happened to Faroe.

His head and limbs were heavy with ornaments, much of his flesh left unprotected from the elements. It was far too mild a summer evening for that; he deserved to freeze or burn at the freedom of open air. His thoughts were fuzzy with the overpowering cacophony of scented oils and chanting. He was deposited at the top of the hill, too gentle in slope to burn at his atrophied muscles, on a stone slab. They chained him in place, the seeping stone finally sapping enough warmth from his bones to feel appropriate.

Dracula

i still see your ghost- 200, complete, Jonathan/Mina; Some fill-in angst about Jonathan seeing Dracula on September 22… which I did actually write on September 22.

Hannibal

I can’t remember if I cried- 1.7k, complete, Abigail/Marissa; This is actually a concept I came up with in high school lol. Hopefully, someday I’ll write a fic expanding on the shipping kernel of the concept.

Hench

The Kind of World Where We Belong- 1k, complete, Anna/Quantum; AU where Leviathan dies and femslash ensues.

The Magnus Archives

The Vampire Saga- 68k, 6 works, Jon/Martin; The first of several shared universes with @suttttton on this list. Vampire!Elias snacks on Jon until Vampire!Martin gets hold of him instead, fluff and romance ensue. The new works this year both feature Gerry!

The Vampire Saga Route 2- 38k, 7 works, Jon/Martin, Jon/Elias, Jon/suffering; Shares a few fics with its predecessor, up to Martin entering the picture, this is the darker version. Fic this year mostly focuses on Jon meeting Tim and Sasha, and the gang rescuing Danny from the Circus. And the aftermath thereof. I’m really proud of the Circus stuff I wrote!

Bird-Verse- 37k, 7 works, Jon/Beholding, Jon/Martin;Spin-off of cult au, also with Sutton, featuring a happier resolution to many of Jon’s problems, so he gets to live with all his friends and marry Martin. Except for how this year’s additions are about him dealing with the lingering cult intrusions and trauma :)

Indent AU- 50k, 2 works, Jon/everyone;My first foray into writing smut. I’m very proud of it, and I’d say it deserved more love than it got, but I’m realistic about the content being very much not for everyone.

Cult AU Bad Ending- 9k, 2 works, Jon/Beholding, Jon/Jonah; This is a good time to mention that, as I have 10,000 Cult AU derivatives, they have their own AO3 Collection now. This one is a far future fic where Jon is immortal with Jonah and sad about it. It’s a crier.

Interesting- 3.7k, complete, Jon/Elias, Jon/Martin; This is an old fic of Jon and Elias in the Panopticon that got a new chapter for Whumptober! It took about 2 years to get that draft to publication…

restless soul who always skips town- 900, complete, Jon/Peter; This is the one I most wish got more attention. Peter keeps Jon in the Lonely.

When Peter comes, it's wonderful. Peter is a person in a way the Archivist isn't and, he knows, Peter even sometimes leaves the fog. He knows it because Peter gives him journals that are red and gold and violet, so different from the limited palette of the fog and the Archivist and Peter that they make the Archivist's eyes hurt.

dead if they knew- 6k, complete, Elias/Jon/Tim; I had SO much fun fiddling to differentiate the four POVs from each other!

Familiar AU- 16k, 4 works, complete; Jon is kidnapped by Elias and turned into his familiar; for Sasha, Tim, and Martin, it’s a long, hard road to rescuing him.

no beat, no melody- 600, complete; Canon-compliant fic in between Jon getting the tape of the birthday party from MAG161 and the episode itself, hanging around the safehouse in the Depression Zone.

welcomed you with open doors- 1.6k, complete, Martin/Jon; Spiral!Martin in a role reversal au that swaps him and Michael. Martin is much more proactive as the Distortion (and more liable to fall in love with nearby Archivists)

save some face (you know you’ve only got one)- 1.4k, complete; Sasha is altered by the NotThem instead of killed. Half body horror, half giving her my fibromyalgia, all bad times!

somebody once broke me- 2.7k, complete, Jon&Gerry; Gerry lives! Visibly monstery Avatars! Jon gets kidnapped from a kidnapping! It’s all the hits for my body of work ;)

remember this moment- 3.8k, complete, Jon&Daisy; I initially planned this fic for, I think, Februwhump 2021. It’s been slated for every Februwhump and Whumptober since, and FINALLY finished!

Take Me Through the Darkness- 15k, complete; Superhero AU, ft. epistolary interludes! Several more of my greatest hits! (And also Jon getting kidnapped from another kidnapping.) My personal favorite is Jon thinking Tim is a hallucination and crying.

look upon your greatness (and she’ll send the call out)- 8k, complete; Cult AU AU where Georgie tracks Jon down a few months after his kidnapping.

The chances of Jon being abducted, held somewhere, and still alive are so narrow that they might as well not exist. Checking the resources the charity sent, Georgie realized it's even grimmer than that. She struggles to picture Jon doing anything to appease his captors. It's extremely easy, however, to picture him literally or figuratively daring them to kill him.

Something Wretched About This- 2.9k, complete, Jon&Tim; Jon returns from the Circus without vocal cords, and he and Tim have a moment of peace, if not reconciliation.

just like a real-life thelma and louise- 6.6k, complete, Sasha/Annabelle; Sasha and Annabelle have superpowers and escape from the lab experimenting on them.

Kinky Polychives AU- 70k, 2 works, WIP, Polychives; My second, much fluffier smut verse. I tagged Jon as “horny for predicaments instead of people” and I think it’s the thing that’s been commented on specifically by the most people lol

til the veins run red and blue- 200, complete, Jon/Martin; I really like the Lonely, and I don’t know why I don’t write it more. This one is a little Somewhere Else coda with Jmart

come home (to my heart)- 8.7k, complete, Jon&Gerry; a fusion of Little Archive and cult au where Jon is the specialest boy in the whole Cult of Beholding, and Gerry grew up with Mary. If anything I wrote this year gets a sequel, I think it’s this. The fic is all Gerry POV, but I had a chunk written in Jon POV I cut, ft. Jon convincing Beholding that he can definitely wander London solo and it’s FINE, he won’t disappear in the house of a murderer or anything… ;)

Extras- 18k, Jon/Martin; My fae au is complete, but this is a bunch of little bits that inspired me beyond the bounds of the main story, like meeting Melanie, Martin proposing, and so on.

sitting pretty on the throne, nothing more i want (except to be alone)- 217k, WIP, Jon/Beholding; Cult au wraps up another year! Hopefully, by this time next year, it’ll be complete at LAST!

Beneath the Stains of Time- 98k, WIP; Also a contender for longfic that I hope to finish in 2024! This year, we FINALLY got to the gang figuring out Jon’s identity and now it’s all unraveling…

Little Archive- 85k, WIP; Last but certainly not least! I’ve been so happy to see the warm reception for Cecile and Anika this year 💗

[firebuug]

indirectly not really tagged by(stolen from) @scp-168 because i'm cracyyyy (want to type and ramble)

3 ships:

damian already went off about abc but i need more abel and hokma. you guys talk about old man yaoi but WHEREEEE is the old man x old man yaoi. your coworker aged you 40 years and then he remanifests in his office as a manifestation of his flaws and his trauma and he's old as balls too. tell me you arent all over his ass. also can we have a old woman yuri carmen.

literally all of the ships i've been going crazy over have literally just been oc ships but also i need everyone to know that even if i don't play it anymore gregor x rodya will forever be the bisexual fail ship of all time. they both get no pussy. they beat each other up daily. gregor is used as a headrest and is also boob height. what's more to love? but also gregor and meursault? there's no chemistry here whatsoever other than they were both done dirty by their society and also have a ridiculous height difference. i feel like gregor talks and says shit and meursault takes it too seriosuly or doesnt get it and they both sit in silence for the next 30 mins. i hate them

none of this matters (holds up my oc polycule that consists of a giant centipede a wriggling neurotic mass of wires a giant bird dinosaur beast and the occasional cockroach that needs some love and forces you to like them) (holds up my queerplatonic autistic distortion sex explosion that commits The Pianist 2 and kills thousands and forces you to like them) (holds up my giant centipede kissing the bug from limbus company and forces you to like them) (holds up my bisexual telephone who hates men but wishes the living cymbal piano man and knight butch would kiss her so bad)

First ever ship: ugh i wish i knew, i'm pretty sure it has had to be an oc ship of some kind, but that probably doesn't count since that's just playing with dolls, so my money is on some stupid hetalia shit (i refuse to actually speak the name of the ship but like. it was one of the most popular mlm ships in the fandom so fuckin. guess). although the first ship i actually started making content and reading fic for instead of just looking at pictures of (i have no idea if hetalia came before this or not) is skarso from tos sob

Last song: im currenlty listening to music lel...im listening to Paranoiac Intervals/Body Dysmorphia by of Montreal one of the songs of all time nglll

Last Movie: Probably a movie i watched at my schools entertainment club, which was..across the spiderverse (it was really good but the ending was kinda disappointing)

Currently reading: I need to start reading again but I keep getting distracted by art and the Evil Devices, but I'm working on continuing Villain VS Villain by Rosalind B. Sterling and recently bought Chainsaw Man Buddy Stories and the first book of part 1 that i'm waiting to get brainrot again to read

Currently watching: i need to finish catching up on major adventure time episodes so i can watch fionna and cake and not be confused. also want to finish steven universe sometime...also need to finish watching madoka w my friends....

Currently consuming: also wateh

Currently craving: watermelon (we only have it when im not craving it like a dehydrated man in the desert)

[mainprotagonist]

ok ill bite, tell me about your ocs!

YES PERFECT... IVE GOT MANY!!!! You can see all of them on my toyhouse!!! A lot of them are WIP until I get their basics down but theres a lot of them that have icons so at least you can see what they look like

I do fandom ocs but since these stretch from fandom to fandom i wont go all over them but my Big OCs I talk about the most are Kelsey (one piece oc) or Prince (osomatsu san oc).... and i love oc/canon pairs sooo much and the biggest reason I make fandom ocs.... But look out for me making a dungeon meshi oc bc its def gonna happen.

as for my other ocs, I've currently have uhhh (checks hand) 8 'verses' I talk about which is basically just different worlds with different settings and stories that I jump around with working on.. EXPIER, Danger, OI!, Kingdom, Rampage, Red Wire Burn (RWB), V•RSE and Virus.....

I'll put descriptions in a read more so i dont spam up the dash <:)

EXPIER - newest verse of mine where all the characters are some sort of glee performer, drag performer so on so forth. all based on a very specific emotion and I'll give them playlists for songs that fit them. these guys help connect my love for music and ocs. Story follows the whole cast.

Danger, OI! - My oldest verse that I havent worked on in years and obvs needs overhauling and planning but its about people called animal whisperers who can command demons and free them from having no self control that cause them to attack civilians. Follows main character, Bibion.

Kingdom - A verse I work on with my bff milo most of the time and a lot of it wouldnt be possible without him. A world divided into multiple kingdoms: Astral, Angel, Dragon, Lava, Shadow, Spirit, Glacier, Flora n Fauna, Underdwelling and Reef.... All separated by lands considered neutral territory that many live outside of influence of the rulers. Story focuses on the aftermath of a long running war against the Shadow Kingdom rebelling against the others, which had left them devastated and leaving the rest to start anew to deal with their scars and rebuilding what was lost.

Rampage - Follows a train hopping, nonbinary shapeshifting duo named Fyle and Garrett!! Very casual loose verse I also havent worked on in a bit. They are thieves and pick up jobs that involve petty thievery in order to make ends meet.

Red Wire Burn - Usually abbreviated to RWB. Focuses on a vampire run bar and the entertainer that performs there and is given room and board, Desta who is an introverted magician; loves people but needs a lot of alone time, especially after his performances

Seasons - A family of huldrekalls living and surviving in a group or separated depending on the season. Huge plant motifs as they are tree creatures. They help local farmers with their fields and other tasks plus protecting them. Focuses heavily on Melian; the middle child of the family who catches the attention of a half giant by the name of Rexus (belongs to @not-amh). Lore related is that their names are chosen by their significant other as they are born n found no need for a name. Formerly simply known as Huldrekall until he meets Rexus and is given his name.

V•RSE - second oldest verse and arguably the more developed with almost all the ocs having their profile finished.... Its my fictional fashion industry, queer led and many of the workers are LGBT.... Creating clothes for all shapes and sizes regardless of gender; only separating the genres of clothing by the style and size rather than gender. Focuses a lot on Kåre who is the newest worker and learning the ropes of working at V•RSE

Virus - My lil scifi horror verse... An exploration team is sent to an inhabited planet as a means to research the lands. Jason, the teams head researcher, wakens a long dead alien virus, becoming infected and killing the rest of the crew and turning them into almost unrecognizable monsters; the only way to tell theyre the original crew is because of distinct physical features. A team is sent to rescue them or to find what happened to them.

[yessoupy]

"your top 15 favourite tv shows can say a lot about your personality!"

i've been tagged by @plavoptice and @aimmyarrowshigh and boy are y'all in for a ride. in no particular order:

diagnosis: murder -- first live action non-soap that was appointment television for me. it ran from 1993-2001 on cbs and i've seen every episode. dick van dyke plays a doctor who helps his son (played by his actual son barry) solve crimes.

the simpsons -- my dad loved this show while we were growing up and we watched every episode until i was in high school.

the young and the restless and all my children -- abovementioned soaps. these are the soaps my mom watched. she would record them on the vcr (they ran back to back on different stations) so she could watch them later without commercials. i have been watching shemar moore since i was 7 years old.

survivor -- for DECADES i watched every episode. i was in 8th grade when season 1 aired. the last 4 or so seasons i haven't bothered watching, though. when people who hadn't been alive when the first season aired started being cast i just couldn't. :|

band of brothers -- since i met a couple of the surviving members of easy company in 2004, bob has held a special place in my heart. it took like 14 years for me to latch onto the show in a fandom capacity. between 2004 and 2018 i would most often view it as i napped on the couch while it ran on spike tv or something as a marathon over memorial weekend, the fourth of july, or veterans' day.

grey's anatomy -- watched a bunch of this in college because some girls on my hall freshman year were superfans. <3 please note i began college during season 1.

the walking dead -- i found the first 3 episodes online in fall of 2010 after a friend on livejournal had tagged it as potentially interesting due to the casting of norman reedus. i didn't know who he was. i don't regret starting the show, but i do regret staying on past season 6, even though there were 2 episodes in season 10 that were like ... exquisite.

deadliest catch!!! -- i fly southwest mostly and there's always a couple of episodes available to watch for free. i just ... idk, it's cold and wet and super dangerous and the captains are so fucking catty with each other. i just like it (still).

law and order: svu -- my comfort show. i have probably seen every episode.

pitch -- we got one season, and were robbed.

chicago fire -- while i watched med first, and i'm currently flying through pd, fire is ... well, it's something.

rescue me -- speaking of fire ....

big love -- i've re-watched just once, it might be time for another.

the wire -- my first watch was later than it should have been.

lost -- of course. the first couple of seasons were amazing, and then i learned that the creators didn't have an end in mind and uh... by the end of season 3 that was very, very clear. i still don't understand the finale.

i'm taking the cheap way out and tagging anyone who wants to. please tag me if you choose to complete this!!

[drawnaghht]

re-listening to "Samurai Rabbit with Stan Sakai & The Usagi Chronicles Creative Team"

This week I have been re-listening to one of the longer interviews with Stan Sakai, Khang Le and Candie and Doug Langdale and I found a youtube version of it with official subtitles!! I can finally understand what some of the parts actually were about compared to before x3

Should I post a link to this? or links to others? reblog or comment! you can probably find it yourself if you're curious.

Or would anyone be interested in like, a summary of those interviews?

I've posted links to that and other interviews before, but this is one of the most extensive ones imo, so I thought it would be nice to post the link that here separately.

One thing I see the collective fandom voice out is how they don't like that it's about a young rabbit and not a direct adaptation (it wasn't up to the crew, they were brought on after the decision) and this interview actually gives answer to that and many other questions I've seen fans talk about publicly both on here and on twitter. (Like why there aren't phones or screens for example.) There's a nice intro about this aspect as well, how two fans of the og comic feel about this show when about to interview the author himself and how the main creative leads are also big nerds about the Usagi Yojimbo comicbook series. Stan Sakai and Khang Le mainly talk about the art and adaptation, as well as story of the show, while Candie and Doug talk about the creative writing parts of the show. They even talk about the music a bit! Reccomended listening if you like the show! This was also recorded before the final 10 episodes aired so it's fun hearing them tease the 2nd season again.

What's nice is that the interviewers themselves (the Comicbook Couples Counseling podcast), are fans of Usagi Yojimbo as well so they are very well-versed in the comic series, so the questions they ask are also very relevant... but also respectful to both the creators and the comic and cartoon! So it's a nice interview to listen to, from a very creative and mature perspective imo.

Seeing fans from different sides of both the TMNT and Usagi fandoms voice different opinions based on assumptions of the show has been a bit frustrating to see (maybe much less so if I only look at fanart, but it's been both "older" and younger fans), so this has been refreshing to re-listen to because it really only looks at the show from creative and collaborative viewpoints vs what people seem to assume that Netflix shows are all about - money and profit and keeping up only some sort of live-wire.

I personally really think the show probably could have had a bigger "impact" with the story if it took some bigger risks, but at the same time, they did their best with what they were given in terms of budget, which I'm remembering again after listening to the creative ways they had to avoid some shots or how some storylines got cut. It's a very creative and easy-going show to me, even if it's not "the best" in terms of what people have come to expect from cartoon shows for kids now.

It's also really interesting to listen to the interview again with subtitles and getting some of the context better (like how the makkine and spaceships, there was a certain inspiration they we're looking at outside of comics - "Robot Carnival" - an animated film I was only vaguely aware of before).

I also found the artist who did the layouts and special poses for the 2D sequences, which was so cool to find! I'm so glad that the Samurai Rabbit crew and artists have been proud to post their work on the series so far as I found a few artists' portfolios/galleries and blogs last month as well. Not gonna repost those (that's obviously just rude without permission and no one wants to get in trouble for that) but it would be cool to share links to those too if people were interested x3

anyway, it's amazing this show exists at all, whatever anyone else thinks.

[universal-kitty]

⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️ I give u five stars for f/o rambles bcuz u are 5-star quality - @limey-self-inserts

send in a “⭐️” and I’ll use a random thing picker to choose one of my f/os, and i’ll reply to the ask with a small infodump about my ship with them!

@limey-self-inserts

    Doing this before I go to bed bc I swore I would...and also I did the randomizer for these folks, this time! ...Erm, for all but one, anyways. I just really wanted to talk about My Special Guy, so.

    We’re all gonna have to live w/ that one. Onto the gushing!!!

[ art by the creator, @14dayswithyou ]

    As a preface, please DNI w/ this post if you’re a minor! 14DWY is an adult game and for adult fans only. Minors will get blocked. 💖 Okay, thank you, let’s go!

    As following the canon of the game, [Redacted] (or as I’ll affectionately call him, “Rendacted”) and Akira were childhood friends. One being the overeager, wants-to-make-friends type...and the horribly shy kid, who could really only ask to hide behind said overeager friend.

   ...In that order, I have described Akira and Rendacted. Akira definitely had a louder streak, in their youth...and it was really only matched by Leon, a bit of a rough, stubborn kid who didn’t like the “weirdo” hanging around his bestie.

   Which...culminated into a horrible “fight.” Carefully making a ring out of spare bits of wire, Rendacted had tried that thing so many little kids do: a promise ring. Excited and nervous and sick to his stomach, he had tried to give it to Akira...only for Leon to slap it out of his hand before they could give an answer. Rendacted mistakenly took it as a rejection; Akira screamed and cried at Leon for being mean, and their friendship nearly ended that day.

    ...Eventually, Akira ended up moving out of town for some time. Rendacted did their best to keep in contact, but... In the end, the most they could do was follow all and each of Akira’s social medias, and start a new plan.

    The long, long journey of attempting to keep up with each and every fandom he got into during their time apart. Cosplaying and studying nearly hundreds of characters, and even dropping them around the same time Akira did. If there was to be any consistencies, they wanted to be the one to find it. To change themself to be the “perfect” person for the one they loved most; their Angel...

    Obviously, their proposal failed because they weren’t good enough. (And Leon’s a menace.) So maybe, if they became the kind of person Akira liked... Things would change? The whole time, holding onto the rings of their youth. Even fully learning how to smith rings, and improving their appearance and shape into the ones he wears in the modern day.

    Eventually, when both were in their twenties... Akira came back to town. Ren- as he called himself now- glowing at all the information he’d gained. They were both nonbinary, both realizing- at different times, but all the same- that a strict gender binary just...didn’t fit what they were both searching for. Now, being demisexual and panromantic... That had been around the same time, but still unplanned; not like it mattered! The joy that they were both still connect in such special ways... It warmed his heart to the core.

    That week, he was cosplaying Haruko, a character from Attack on Giants. He only wanted to stop by the library to pick up a few books and side-eye the new hire on their first week of work. That was all. He’d get the confidence to speak up later... Right?

    Only to be caught off guard when Akira approached him first, complimenting his look! What’s someone to do, so unprepared?! ...The best he could, anyways. Thrilled, but nervous to his bones.

    Things worked out somehow...and have since been working out, as Akira happily hangs out with him, allows him to be around for parallel play moments, and they learn Japanese together. (Akira’s still learning to sing without looking at the lyrics.)

    It’s not perfect, but he’s content. Better watch out, however... They’ll figure out how to peel back that mask in no time. (Aaand on Akira’s side, there’s only so long they can conveniently keep hiding their ears and tail from him before Ren- one day- notices that those “cosplay ears and tail” they keep wearing is private is actually REAL and will demand to know more. As much as possible!!!)

    This lil shit is one of TWO FFXIV charas the randomizer pulled out... It really be one of those days, huh? Anyways, let’s get to it!

    The tale of Haurchefant and Rhela is...one that is basic on the surface, but with the meanings so, so much deeper than first appearances would suggest. Specifically, because one wouldn’t think much of a budding Warrior of Light- Healer of Light, even, as some tease them for- assisting in Coerthian matters. Ishgard remains walled up, but ever do the people of snow-bound Coerthas still need their allied neighbors... Even if the city itself is reluctant to admit it.

    Ishgardian matters, Ishgardian solutions, and all that.

    But Haurchefant... He takes a chance to ask for aid, and it is received in a sweeping, quick moment. An Auri Samurai and Miqo’te healer are soon welcomed in his halls; it isn’t long before the sight of them warms every bit of him.

    Strong, courageous, kind... There’s a light in their eyes, when he first meets them. It gets him giddy to the core. Not quite processing the idea of having both, he eventually deigned to pursue Rhela, much to the Keeper’s surprise. However, it was in learning more about each other that their feelings grew. Hardly kept hidden, and yet subtle enough that all the rest thought them oblivious to their own feelings!!

    It is what further aided them both to Ishgard. What led to a moment of shy, giddy weakness as Haurchefant admitted to still liking the Auri- Ah’dan- and what did that mean, when he still had someone wonderful like Rhela...? And they only teased him with a giggle, not only admitting that they, too, had feelings for Ah’dan, but actually knew of a solution...

    “Haurchefant, dear? Have you...ever heard of polyamory?”

    The knowledge lit a new fire in him, and the two became co-conspirators in catching Ah’dan’s heart. (Who had been crushing on Rhela for some time, anyways; they were just horribly oblivious to his subtle advancements.) From his gifts to both with a pair of black chocobos- both raised carefully by him from the nest- to jewelry with his birth father’s crest on it (at that point, a shameless admittance of marriage that the high class could’ve died over; Edmont, to his credit, just found it adorable)... There was hardly a path he did not take.

    Of course... Rhela was oblivious in their own ways. And he was fine with that. What was more important would be confessing outright; that way, Ah’dan had no doubts on their shared feelings for him. (And then buying yet another pair of earrings to match the rings he already planned up, but, really, what’s one more?)

    It would just be after this Aymeric situation is settled, is all. It would be over in no time, and they could figure out the rest after that...

    ...In canon, Rhela is ruined for a long, long while after his death. Heartbroken, and their friends realizing the scale of the duo’s feelings for each other. Ah’dan feeling a deep loss, but moreso guilt for not protecting someone who had meant the most to someone he loved, in turn. (It would take them until the Naadam before a confession would come from either of their lips. Before he knew how much Haurchefant had loved him...and by then, they could try and learn to heal.)

    However, in a happier AU... They all live together, in a cozy home in Empyreum. Haurchefant fought like a madlad to have a recognized, three-person wedding, but by Halone, he made it happen!! The cozy sweaters are neverending, but so is the many cuddles on their favorite couch.

    Oh boy, it’s everyone’s favorite menace from YoRHa! Let’s get to it-

    The relationship between 14HD and 9S is a bit of an...interesting one, to put it one way. On one side, there’s the work-dedicated Scanner, who’s [had more lives than any one should] goofy, sure, but also occasionally stubborn and a touch stern. His personality can be warm and friendly one moment, and grumpy the next, with anger edging into his tone. 14HD, on the other hand, is quite, reserved, but always warm and welcoming, despite their isolationist ways. After all, they’re the other primary repair unit on staff, so they’ll occasionally be around the Resistance camp, checking in and doing minor shopping.

    It’s a relationship that- by all means- probably shouldn’t have been formed. He should’ve stayed close by 2B’s side, and they should have focused wholly on the mission ahead... Right?

    Ahh, but there’s something about the soothing nature of 14HD that just kinda...gets him? They really are gentle and reassuring; any problems or doubts he has, they soothe away easily. When he felt more comfortable, and brought up the idea of them calling him “Nines” someday... They did it immediately (warming up his internal servos like nothing else before), but also offered him a range of nicknames they’d come up with, over the lonely years: Haydee, Hayfor, Zeen.

    He liked all of them. Nines finding a way to use them fairly often, and a new one, to see how they liked it. Beaming uncontrollably when they smiled at him in response.

    He still has feelings for 2B, of course. They’re still so tightly jumbled in his body that it feels like they choke him up with the ferocity of it. He loves that feeling...but he also loves the gentle way Hayfor holds him in their arms. Sings softly to him, in a way that feels breath-stealing; haunting. It echoes in his memories, like the faint scent of earth, petrichor, and flowers on their body.

    It feels like being pulled under by a siren, and it’s so, so hard to fight back. Maybe he doesn’t want to.

    Maybe this is why humans loved mythologies...

    Ahh, an ancient pairing for ancient times! Let’s have us some fun, shall we~? (Why is this the only gif where you two are in the same shot... Spare me the pain, won’t you? /lh)

    In days long forgotten, in a world now sundered to fourteen... There was Etheirys. Home of Amaurot. Of Elpis. Of a great peoples whose knowledge was put to use for all, in striving for a better world for all beings. Themselves and others alike.

    Now Hades... He was more like a wet cat, among all this. Sulking and practically hiding in shadows. The lights of his life were the two who had managed to stumble into it, and refuse to let him shirk greater efforts: Hythlodaeus and Azem. Or at least... Back then, Azem’s name would’ve been Circe. (Look, I’m also one of those bitches STILL debating on “Persephone” as a name, but we’re shaking things up tonight.)

    With his two friends in tow- or rather, him in tow of them- no section of Amaurot would go unenjoyed; parties being a frequent, fun activity. There was the occasional, casual visit to Elpis, to visit Hermes and check in on evaluated concepts. (Circe simply adored those. Hermes was endlessly fond of their ability to charm the concepts, and pacify many of them before a danger zone came into effect...or even just for a quick cuddle.)

    At some point, “friend hangouts” became “date nights.” Sleepovers less of a common occurrence as much as it was, “Let’s all sleep in the closest person’s apartment.” (And they both enjoyed Circe’s the best, what with how warm and cozy it was; just chilly enough for the warmth to feel heavenly, but without so much warmth you’d sweat.)

    He was their grump, but Hythlodaeus was the teasing, warm-hearted companion; an enabler of trouble. Circe...usually was the trouble. Often bumping into the then-Azem, Venat, quite a few times while causing a childish scene in the markets, square... Wherever.

    In fact, when Venat stepped down from office within the Convocation of Fourteen, it was incredibly shocking when Circe was her selection for the next one to take her seat. A debate started for a short while, with even Circe- once the shock had passed- being open and willing to fight for their acceptance. And that...was truly all that had to be done.

    The Sun. The Traveler... Now Circe, Seat of Azem.

    Now, Hythlodaeus was originally sought for next- some months later- to take on the Seat of Emet-Selch...but he refused, instead suggesting...Hades. It took some debating of a different kind- convincing the poor man- before he’d eventually take the seat on both beloveds’ insistence.

    So it’s...weird. How eventually passing on the Seat of Fandaniel is what caused all manner of things to go awry... Not long after an oddly disjointed trip to Elpis, taking Hermes in as Fandaniel, moving forward with the usual... Aether got disrupted. Things went out of control, and they rushed to save as much as they could. Figure out what was going wrong...with no luck.

    His relationships burned before his eyes. Hermes’ depression became obvious. Hythlodaeus was willing to sacrifice himself- with a large portion of other people- to become the new god, Zodiark. Circe couldn’t take it, refusing to participate; the Seat of Azem was not only vacated, but removed entirely out of spite. Venat... She headed their opposition; ascending to become Hydaelyn, and suppress the god that they made, so that no more lives would be sacrificed ever again.

    ...He never did see Circe, one last time.

    So why... Why does he see their soul in Rhela’s? Faint, compared to the luminous glow of his people, but it is terribly, wonderfully, unmistakable. Except... How he loathes that history does repeat.

    From a distance, Emet-Selch watches them warmly tease the stubborn, grumpy Auri until he cracks a smile. The Exarch- ever mysterious- even teases them a little, and Rhela laughs in a bright chime that carries through the air effortlessly. In that trio alone, he envisions a better world, where his arms were clung to on either side. In the shimmering light of Amaurot, Circe would tease and crack jokes, Hythlodaeus joining in with equally warm mirth.

    It is an insult, he would think, fists clenching. It is a mockery of our world...and I will do anything to see us returned once more.

    Final F/O! Can we do it?! Did you really read all of this so far?!? What a champ... Alright, let’s finish this up!

    Ah, the simplest of times... The simplest of meetings. Truly, that’s all anyone needs in a Pokemon world! And for Wes, that’s especially true.

    Ex-member of Team Snagem, instead using their own device against them to find and capture shadow Pokemon. He ends up partnering with a girl- Rui- who can naturally see their inflictions without aid of an external device...but what- or who- truly catches his eye, is the researcher he bumps into throughout the Orre region.

    Staying in cozy Agate Village on their downtime, Raine is a researcher in-training, although more of their own accord, than associated with any legit professors in any external regions. Primarily studying the lack of Orre region PKMN, and seeking to aid in the return of wild pokemon... They have their work cut out for them, is the short of it.

    However, what caught Wes’ eye...is the Eevee they carry around with them. A partner PKMN, compared to their battle-ready Vaporeon. Someone who also has Eeveelutions...? It interested him. Kept him continuously coming around, if not noticing them researching out in the wild, and stopping by to check in. Hear what they’ve been up to and all that.

    No reason beyond that, really... (Rui, stop looking at him like that. It’s not-!!)

    Eventually growing into the shoes of being a hero, Wes and Rui eventually move forward with trying to clear Cipher out of the Orre region. Raine continues their research to the present day, with rumors stating that the Hero of Orre, himself, still occasionally drives back to Agate Village and walks into a home everyone claims he doesn’t own...but surely does belong to a researcher heading the “Healing Orre” project.

    And if a kid is running around these days, well... Who’s to confirm or deny it, really?

[primatechnosynthpop]

Do you have any OCs? feel free to talk about them if you do What was the first piece of media you engaged with on the internet? Are you still interested in it? What's something you made or did that you're proud of? What's something that made you smile this month?

Hi! Thanks for asking. Putting my answers here under a cut so as not to intrude too much on people's dashboards...

I've made several OCs throughout my life, but the most recent ones I've developed to the point of being full-fledged characters are Lyra and Tucker, the protagonists of Wires Crossed, a story I wrote a couple years ago that's based on several Lemon Demon songs. Even though they're based on songs and thus their defining traits aren't original, they still have unique designs and several unique features which don't entirely overlap with other people's LD characters based on the same songs (that's kind of an established thing within the Lemon Demon fandom-- making OCs based on songs you like!) For example, they both have anime-style hair antennae (they're cousins whose respective mothers were twins, so they look somewhat alike) but it's much more prominent on Tucker's hair than Lyra's, which is worn in an undercut and dyed a fun colour (usually purple, but I established that she's done different colours throughout her life). They were really close as kids, then grew apart due to their different priorities, but reconnect as adults when Tucker reaches a low point in his life and has nowhere else to turn. I know you're somewhat into Lemon Demon so if you ever wanted to read Wires Crossed, who knows, you might like it!

Other than that, I've made a few Warriors OCs for two fics I wrote in high school. We've got:

Rubblefang, initially a young rogue with distinctive scars and a mysterious backstory who joins a nomadic Clan and, through his equally mysterious older brother with matching scars, uncovers his past

Strikestar, said older brother who was the heir of a kingdom(?) of evil cats but ran away with his baby brother and joined/founded an unofficial Clan (I don't think he founded it but I really don't remember, it's been a while)

Honeypool, Strikestar's deputy and Rubblefang's ambiguous love interest (if I was going to rewrite this now I'd just have them be friends and leave it at that because she's a bit too old for him, plus it's kind of unnecessary for a story that's mostly about siblings). She has a sister that went missing and joined the same gang of evil cats who her leader once fled, and despite her tough exterior, when said evil sister reappears Honeypool is way too trusting of her to disastrous consequences

[Different fic now] Grasstail, a WindClan cat with a bad attitude despite his life not being that hard. Has two sisters who act like moe anime girls because that's where I was in life when I wrote this. Falls in forbidden love with...

Watersplash, an ambitious RiverClan cat with a manipulative mother. Meant to be a "deconstruction" of the mary sue trope, which to my high school self meant that she thinks she's super cool and special but then she just suffers endless horrors. It all works out okay though because in the end she kills her terrible mom and goes to live in WindClan with her husband and children

Other hits include:

Alda, a quodo fankid made by some random aliens visiting the station, y'know that classic prank of creating an entire child comprised of a blend of two people's DNA and handing it over to them to do what they will with. Alda has Changeling powers but also the attributes of a solid, and a highly mischievous personality that gets them into a lot of trouble

Ji Woo Liu, a Chinese-Korean lesbian necromancer from a Heroes fic I wrote who, along with her partner Bruce, seeks to resurrect people with strong powers in order to wreak havoc on the world (I forget if they had a reasonable motivation for this). She starts dating a minor canon character for information, but predictably falls in love for real

Shir and Dö, two teens in a fantasy world who fights demons together. I've had these OCs since I was a kid, and I'm constantly tweaking aspects of their story, but in the current version Dö ran away from home and was adopted by tiger demons, one of whom is a playful shapeshifter who became his sister. Shir, meanwhile, thinks she's an orphan but in fact her father is the very bird demon they spend years trying to track down and destroy. Somehow her whole life she's never noticed her demon powers, which play a large role in keeping her alive in her dangerous lifestyle

As for the other questions, I believe I can answer with slightly less rambling... I don't remember which was first, but some of the first few things I looked at fanart of (before actually making accounts anywhere) were Warriors, Doctor Who, and Artemis Fowl. The first things I actually wrote and posted fic about were Pokémon and Azumanga Daioh. I'm not actively interested in most of these things anymore, but I'm up for revisiting them when the mood strikes.

The third question really ties in with the first, because Wires Crossed is definitely one of the things I'm most proud of making. It's basically novel-length, and I've been told it delivers an effective emotional narrative. On a broader note, I've also gotten a lot better at digital art over the past few years.

Something that made me smile this month was getting a Spirit Phone CD and a lava lamp for my birthday last week, as I mentioned in a post that you may or may not have seen. The dinner and cake we had that evening were really good too ^_^

[jakowskis]

Day 24 - Discuss Ianto. Opinions? Favorite moment? Least favorite moment? Any unpopular opinions? Any fun headcanons?

putting this under a cut cuz im noivous + i didnt rlly write a good introductory paragraph

iantoooo ok. i have an interesting relationship with ianto, namely bc i love him a lot but i think im enjoying a much different version of him than the one most people like. idk how to explain it exactly, but like, i came to care about him when i started writing in his pov for owento fic, if that tells you anything fhdfjkd. i think that’s a pretty specific and semi-unorthodox way to get acquainted with a character, by sticking them in a kinda toxic relationship that’s not their canon one, + is largely a product of ur imagination + other fic fsdhkfjds. needless to say, i’m immensely fond of the ianto in my head, who i think does exist in the canon character but just isn’t someone we see expanded upon (owento being epic toxic yaoi is such a feasible concept to me fhsdfjksd i think they very well could’ve happened in another life) - but, for obvious reasons, that ianto isn’t a ianto most other people can conceive of, ykwim? long story short, i’m sitting over here cradling my fucked up version of ianto who’s doing some crazy shit with owen, and it makes me feel p detached from other ianto enjoyers (aka, yknow, practically the whole fandom fshdfks).

that being said! i am fond of canon ianto. i found him kinda underwhelming in the first two seasons, he’s just kind of... there, which makes his popularity a bit surprising, if i’m honest. he’s endearing, but not that endearing. but he’s a lot more fleshed out in the audios, which is where i came to rlly enjoy him on his own, rather than just the version of him i’ve crafted as a writer. but i think part of his popularity is that he’s a bit of a blank slate, so people have a lot of freedom to run with him, and that’s definitely a lot of fun when ur a writer (hell, both for the official writers + the fanfic writers). we know his blandness is a mask, which means plenty of things could be hiding under there, and there’s a lot of fun interpretations out there as a result. some i don’t quite agree with, ofc, but hey, we’re all here to have a good time. more on that when i talk about unpopular opinions. 

he does have his moments, of course. i think my favorite ianto moments are the entirety of captain jack harkness (him and owen in that episode really changed my life as i’ve said dozens of times fhsdkjdks. when he pointed that gun at owen smth in my brain shifted HFJKSDHDS), and then “pray they survive” in meat. can you tell i like badass!ianto. of course, i enjoy his dorky moments, too. i like that he’s more comfortable and companionable in season 2 and as a result he’s full of quips. i listened to the one restricted items archive audio earlier this month, he’s soo much fun in that one, so much personality. same with believe, both gave me a lot of insight into him that the show initially really didn’t bother with, and it was such a joy. funky little lad. i’ve said this before, but i often get annoyed by characters (+ ships) that are hugely popular in a fandom, and i’ve had moments where i’ve been mildly annoyed by ianto as a result (seeing as i’m largely a owen&tosh&gwen girlie and jack & ianto so aggressively dominate things) - but i legitimately can’t bring myself to actually dislike him. i’m not immune to ianto jones. sigh. 

but yeah, cyberwoman was when i went “oh, he’s fucked up, ok hi” - but captain jack harkness was when i went “oh, he’s fucked up, ok hi” FJKSDF like that was when he first started to actually intrigue me, and the ianto i’m most interested in is the one we see in that episode. it’s a darker sort of ianto, and that stifled darkness is what i find compelling about the character + what i’m interested in exploring. and that’s why i like owento, bc owen’s such a live wire he kind of forces ianto’s repressed qualities to the surface - and that has a lot of potential. i talked about it here, when i talked about why i ship them - this post is about ianto on his own, ofc, but he’s one of the two characters in my torchwood otp, so i can’t help but mention it. i just find that ship super handy for playing with what i consider to be ianto’s most compelling qualities, that the show doesn’t fully capitalize on. of course, as we know, i’ve yet to watch s3 and i have a feeling it’ll happen there. i’m eager to see! 

i don’t really have a least favorite ianto moment, other than how often he’s simply reduced down to being jack’s boytoy + that he’s underdeveloped and just kind of eye-candy, + then comic relief as well in s2. oh! but i laugh hysterically every time he cries on screen. i can’t help it, it’s so funny the way he wails. but those aren’t ‘least fav’ moments so much as ‘ianto moments i cannot fucking take seriously’. 

unpopular opinions time! don’t kill me

he’s a liiiittle bit overrated ;-;

he’s soooo much more interesting outside of his relationship with jack. jack stifles him a lot.

him and jack have zero chemistry onscreen too like they look very forced to me

...he has 10x more chemistry with owen 😗

fandom j*nto fucking sucks + i have no interest in it

i HATE what ianto’s reduced to in a lot of fics. he's not at all cutesy n ineffectual idk where tf that came from

he’s a dom 🫵 and a top-leaning vers. grr. 

top/bottom discourse is so stupid + immature but my main thing is just. don't be tropey with it ugh. wooby uwu uke ianto is a fucking plague. it's gross n such an injustice to his character. makes me 🤒 every time im subjected to it. treat characters like real humans w real sexual leanings and desires don't just shepherd them into weird fetishy roles cuz u think its cute n hot 😒 im not here to police anyone's fandom experience it just makes my life worse FSDJKF so im allowed to bitch about it. fandom is my hobby tht makes me smileeee and i hate when things make me Frown yknow ffff

love him to bits as a person + he definitely has some rlly good moments but some of gareth’s acting as ianto is laughable 😭 mostly emotional scenes. i make fun of ‘havent you ever loved anyone jack wahh’ a lot SORRY im mean. thats probs also why i liked cjh sm i was like oh shit he can act. IM SORRY it had to be said. b*rrowman’s the other actor i struggle to take seriously and thats probs also why j*nto doesn’t compel me like. they both come at it from such a campy (/neg) angle to me ngl

hcs… idk if i rlly have any hcs for him? none are coming to mind. i’ll probs come up w some as my owento verse develops. i think i peppered a few random ones into my big fic dhfj im sure ill come up with more.