#the murderous pottery class

[dtccompendium]

Episode 229: The Murderous Pottery Class (Part 2)

We’ve learned two important things from this episode – Conan hyperventilates when he’s excited, and Ran keeps potato chips on her desk. We also have to add to Spiky Head’s appearance. His hair is somewhat between a grey Christmas tree and a porcupine. Anyway, he uses a necktie-pin-twist-locker-tape-apron-cloth that he wanted to cut up and flush down the toilet with his scissors. Megure is fooled by his set-up and is about to take away the assistant, when he and Takagi decide to reflect on how normally they would hear some strange noise, and Mouri would stop them. But they think it’ll be okay, because Mouri isn’t here this time. This is when Sonoko turns into a dinosaur cat hybrid to reveal the super convoluted trick. What gave it away was the fact that the culprit didn’t wear gloves, because he likes to feel things with his own hands. Therefore his fingerprints are on everything. Conan also critiques his methods and suggests that next time he should use a rope and gloves, so that he won’t leave clay nail marks all over the crime scene. 

[ghostbeam]

empty til she fills | fuyumi todoroki x reader

You’re beautiful, really. It’s truly no wonder why they chose you for the job, every line and curve and fold. They’ll never be able to capture you the way you really are. Nothing compares to the real thing.

Her eyes gaze over your neck, down your chest, over your stomach, your thighs. That familiar hunger sits in Fuyumi’s stomach, aches in her jaw. She wants to bite you everywhere that she can, really make you bleed. But Fuyumi doesn’t feed from anything but animals, and it’s not like you’d satisfy her hunger anyway. She’s given up on that feeling a long time ago.

Notes: Hiiiii everyone!!! This is the first installment of vampire empire and it’s all about fuyumi!!! It’s much shorter than I thought, but when it was done it was done u know? I love her I think she should be allowed to go apeshit and drink blood and not hold back if she wants to!!!!!!! Let her fuck!!!!!! Anyways yeah thanks for reading!! (title from vampire empire by big thief) u can listen to the playlist for the whole anthology here! Also I made a Pinterest board!

Warnings: 18+, minors dni, f! reader, explicit content, dark content, angst for like the briefest moment, violence, vampires, detailed descriptions of blood and gore (on both reader and another person), murder (u kill someone! It’s offscreen tho), blood kink, biting, drinking blood (fuyumi drinks from reader, u both drink from the dead man), biting and drinking from already open wounds, fingering, oral (reader eats fuyumi out!!! Yay!!!) (bloody), bloody sex, reader is sort of a masochist, soooo many commas, a line completely stolen from fascination (1979) cause I had to ajsjsjsjs, perspective changes between u and fuyumi like a lot idk I’m sorry she spoke to me<3

words: 4.3k

Fuyumi has always been a little unsure of what to do with her hands. When she sits, when she walks, when she kisses, while she waits. Where does she put them? Where do they go?

It’s the same, squeezing porcelain clay through her fingers, molding and shaping and running a wire through the middle and cursing when it doesn’t topple over. She’s bad with her hands, but she loves it, lumpy mugs and all. 

And her mugs are lumpy, most of them break in the kiln, but whatever she’s proud of, she sends to her brothers. 

She’s never been much of an artist, and all the years she’s lived (many, many years), none of it ever interested her. But when you’ve done everything, there’s no harm in trying. And so even though her pots and bowls end up twisted and misshapen on the wheel, she tries and tries until they’re at least a little bit useful.

The truth is that there, in the studio, surrounded by people who do all the same things that she does, mess up and try again, break things when they don’t turn out, or smash fragile wet clay held together by careful hands, Fuyumi feels human. She makes mistakes. She screws up. It’s something she’s never been allowed to do before. 

Plus, you’re there. 

The anatomy class pays you to model. Sometimes, she sees you run around in your long robe, buying snacks from the vending machines or remembering something you left in your car. She’s completely enamored with you, with your humanity, how free you seem. She’s envious, in a way, but really she just likes you, wants you—wants to bite you. Which is dangerous for Fuyumi because she stopped feeding from humans ages ago. 

You collide on a Saturday night, left alone in the studio, separated by one wall. Fuyumi works late because she doesn’t sleep, and one of the owners of the building had given her a set of keys to lock up when she leaves. When she opens the door to the pottery studio, you’re out in the hallway, slapping your palm against the door next door and murmuring soft no’s as you peak through the glass. You have half a mind to just bust the thing down, except now you’re not alone in the hallway. 

Fuyumi. The pretty vampire with streaks of scarlet through her ivory hair, cute glasses perched on her nose, and hands you think about way more often than you should steps out of the pottery studio. You’ve caught her staring at you before, and you can’t tell if it’s because she knows of the similar condition you have in common, or if she’s as interested in you as you are in her. 

You both pause, caught staring at one another. The only thing on Fuyumi’s mind is that you’re probably completely naked under your robe. 

“I—um, got locked out.” You say, finally, blowing air you have no need for out of your throat like a breath. It must be nerves. “My clothes are in there. My everything is in there.”

“Oh!” She shakes her head free of the thoughts of your bare body. Then a realization, “I have a key!”

You move out of her way and let her unlock the door, jiggling the key in the lock and pushing it open. You grin, press your hands into her shoulders and let out a squeal of delight. “Thank you!”

“Yeah, no problem.” She speaks, willing herself not to melt at the feeling of your fingers digging into her flesh for a moment. She turns to leave, satisfied with the interaction, enough to hold her over for a lifetime, maybe. Your hands on her shoulders, your robe against your skin, your neck. 

“Fuyumi!” You call, and she feels like maybe she’s dreaming, or maybe she’s hearing things. But when she turns around, you’re looking at her expectantly. “Would you wait for me? I don’t really wanna walk to my car alone at night.”

It’s a good excuse, you think. Fuyumi’s got that bleeding heart (or lack of one). She won’t leave you alone. 

“‘Course! Yeah, I’ve gotta lock the front, anyways, so—yeah, I’ll wait.” She nods, stepping back into the room and letting the door fall shut behind her. She watches you untie you’re robe at the middle, and she spins on her heel, facing the door again. She hears you chuckle, and it makes her feel a little silly. You’re naked for, like, four hours every day. It’s not like you would care if she watched. 

But Fuyumi cares, because she doesn’t want to see you naked for the first time like that. She doesn’t want to see you naked and know she won’t be able to touch you. 

“Okay, you can turn around, now.” You speak now that you’re dressed. She turns and you walk toward her, locking elbows. She leads you outside, locks the door with your hand against her arm like she’s yours, and walks you to your car. 

“Guess I’ll see you next week.” She tells you, pulling away from you to walk to her bike. You call her name and it’s deja vu.

“Do you want to go get coffee?” You ask, stopping Fuyumi in her tracks yet again. She turns.

“It’s eleven o’clock at night.” Fuyumi says like an idiot. 

“I just—I wanna keep…hanging out.” You say, and well, so does Fuyumi. Of course, she does. “Your bike’ll fit in the trunk. I’ll drive you home after.”

So, she says yes, stuffs her bike into your trunk with the back seats folded down, and ducks into your car. 

You drive like a maniac, and you listen to your music way too loud, and Fuyumi hopes she doesn’t look as terrified as she feels despite knowing she can’t die in a car accident. But you can, she thinks, so yea, she’s terrified. And you drive like this all the time?

But you both make it in one piece, skirting into the parking lot of a diner with a yellowing neon sign out front. Everyone knows you inside, greeting you with happy smiles and asking you questions about your life, details Fuyumi hopes to know after tonight. 

You take her to a booth in the corner, sliding in next to her instead of across, thighs pressed up against each other as a waitress brings you both a mug of hot coffee. You order apple pie with ice cream, and Fuyumi envies the fact that you’re even able to eat it. Since becoming a vampire, she’s lost any appetite for anything that isn’t blood. 

“So, when were you turned?” You speak, licking vanilla ice cream off the back of your spoon, head resting on you fist as you stare at her. If Fuyumi had a working heart it would be beating out of her chest right now. “I don’t think you’re all that old. You actually seem pretty young. Tell me, maybe in the mid nineties, early two-thousands?”

Fuyumi opens then closes her mouth, unsure of what to say. How could you have possibly known (besides the fact that you got the decade way off)?

“I was turned in ’87 by an old boyfriend who couldn’t control himself.” You shrug, revealing the information like you hadn’t just told her that you, the little human she’s been so fascinated by lately, are a vampire. 

“You’re a vampire.” She says—a statement—not a question, because of course, you’re a vampire. 

“You didn’t know?” You ask, softer. She shakes her head, stares at the booth in front of her. She feels your fingers underneath her chin, and she’s not sure how she never noticed it before, but you’re hands are freezing. She lets you guide her to look at you. “Hey, are you okay? Did I freak you out?”

And it’s not that you’re a vampire. It’s not even that you’re a vampire that she was convinced was human. It’s that she wanted to bite you, wanted to feel that pop and gush, drink from you what’s not actually even being pumped through your body anymore, blood that’s lying dormant in your veins. And the thing is, she still wants to. 

“I think I’m just shocked.” She speaks, willing herself to calm down, accept the situation, adapt. “I haven’t met another one of us here in town. It’s new, but it’s…good. I’m actually a little excited about it.”

“You don’t sound excited.” You observe, letting your hand fall to her thigh. 

“I am—no really. I am.” She grins, leaning toward you. “How come you can eat real food?”

You think maybe she still hasn’t processed everything yet, the smile on her face a little unnerving. And there’s something in her eyes, raw, dangerous, hungry. It makes you shiver. “I never lost the appetite.”

“It tastes good to you?” 

“So good.” You nod, unknowingly moving a little closer. Two girls pressed up against each other in a booth in a dark corner. Two vampires. Two monsters. 

You’re there later than either of you expected to be, fingers intertwined, hands brushing away stray hairs, and words whispered against ears, tucking your face into her neck when you laugh at something inappropriate. 

When you leave, Fuyumi tugs on your hand, interlocks two fingers as you walk to your car. You drive just as bad, but she doesn’t think she minds it this time. To die by your side, and all that. 

When you drop her off at home, you scribble your number on her wrist with a green glitter gel pen and resist the urge to do something drastic like kiss her or invite yourself in. 

Fuyumi realizes she’s left her bike in your trunk, her only mode of transportation to the studio besides walking. She eyes the green glitter on her skin and opens her phone. 

left my bike in ur car:/ pick me up to go to the studio tmrrw? Read 2:22am

be there at 10 sent 2:24am

u can sit in on my class sent 2:25am

…

She does sit in on your class the next morning. You hold her hand and show her where to sit, a view of both the artist’s sketches of you and the actual you draped over a couch. It’s probably inappropriate to sit there all horny in the middle of this art class, but you won’t stop looking at her. You know exactly what your doing, mimicking the rise and fall of your chest like you’re breathing when she knows you’re not. 

You’re beautiful, really. It’s truly no wonder why they chose you for the job, every line and curve and fold. They’ll never be able to capture you the way you really are. Nothing compares to the real thing.

Her eyes gaze over your neck, down your chest, over your stomach, your thighs. That familiar hunger sits in Fuyumi’s stomach, aches in her jaw. She wants to bite you everywhere that she can, really make you bleed. But Fuyumi doesn’t feed from anything but animals, and it’s not like you’d satisfy her hunger anyway. She’s given up on that feeling a long time ago.

When the class ends, Fuyumi leaves to make more misshapen mugs, taking a few out of the kiln she thinks she’ll give to you. As the sun sets, both of you get ready to leave, and you’re at the door to the pottery studio by the time Fuyumi is done cleaning her space. You’re a little disappointed you missed watching her on the wheel, her pretty hands shaping the clay like you’ve seen her do many times before. You knock on the door frame, and she looks up at you, grins. Her hair is tied up, pieces of hair falling over her face, her cardigan falling down and exposing her right shoulder. You can’t get over how pretty she is, a little messy.

“Hi.” You speak.

“Hey. You ready?” She asks, throwing her bag over her shoulder and walking towards you. You always want to watch her walk towards you—never away.

“I’m ready.” You nod, intertwining your fingers with hers when she makes her way towards you. You drive Fuyumi to your house, your arm over the console and your hand on her thigh. 

Your place is small, really just big enough for you. The walls are a mauve color that Fuyumi decides she likes, tiny star shaped twinkle lights hang over each window instead of curtains, a bundle of violets stuffed inside a beer bottle sit on your coffee table, books and dvd’s and records all stacked against one another with what seems to be no sense of organization in your bookcases. It’s really not much for a vampire.

She sets her tote bag carefully on the counter, red and white checkered, pulling two of her signature misshapen mugs from inside. One painted blue with tiny yellow stars and the other lined with terribly drawn strawberries. 

“These are for you.” She tells you, turning to face you as you’re bent over your stereo, looking for a station you like. Bits from the past stick with you like a refrigerator magnet. Fuyumi wants to remember the look on your face when you turn around and see her gift for the rest of her life. 

“I love them!” You gush, rushing over to pick both of them up. “They’re perfect. One for me, and one for you. We’ll drink blood from them with our pinkies up and cheers to LeFanu.”

Fuyumi laughs, says nothing about the blood. “I’m glad you like them.”

You turn around, opening one of your cabinets open with a finger, setting the mugs down on the counter and moving two snoopy holiday mugs on one shelf towards the back. You set the gift down in their place and wave a hand over it like your presenting them on a gameshow, “I’ve replaced the snoopy mugs with them. That’s a big deal, you know.”

“I’m honored.” Fuyumi grins, moving around the counter to stand near you. 

“You should be.” You lean a little closer to her, let her hand brush against your hip, hook her fingers in your belt loops. You nudge your nose against hers, and she takes that as a sign to kiss you. 

Chapped lips meet yours, hungrier than you expected, much less soft than the girl before you. There’s a burning in your gut, her hands, those hands you’ve payed so much attention to, pressing into your hips, pulling you flush against her front. You let out a moan when she swipes her tongue against your lip, your bodies pressing closer and closer like you’ll become one person. She moves her leg in between your thighs, pressed up against you, and your mouth falls open in a gasp, one she wastes no time taking advantage of, all tongue and teeth, all her, her, her. 

The two of you end up on your couch, unable to make it to the bed. If you had to wait any longer, you think maybe you’d both explode. She eats you out, there in your living room, makes you come three times in a row, familiar hungry eyes never stray from your own. 

…

She doesn’t talk about the vampire thing. Ever. She goes quiet when you bring it up, busying herself with something else like washing the dishes in your sink or trying to find something to watch on tv. You mostly let it go because you know Fuyumi. You know how fascinated she is by humans, how she envies them, how that envy and fascination is the very reason you’re together now. 

And maybe it should hurt you, the fact that believing you were human was the one reason she’d been so interested. But you know her, bleeding unbeating heart and all, she loves you. She loves you and your monster, she just doesn’t love her’s.

It’s difficult to drag the body through your house alone, vampire strength being something you hadn’t been blessed with once you’d turned all those years ago. Fuyumi sent you a message that she’d be at the studio late and would probably just end up going home instead of coming over. You figure you have time to drain this guy of all he’s worth, pack him up into little tupperwares in your fridge and be done with him by morning. 

You’ve done this a million times before, dragged a body out to your back yard, fed from it until your satisfied before saving the rest. It’s enough to last you a couple of weeks. It’s a good system. 

You don’t hear the sliding door open, you just hear Fuyumi say your name. You look up at her, blood on your mouth, your neck, your hands, fangs poking out underneath your top lip. You’re sure you look terrifying, but it’s the look on her face that scares you. 

It’s disgust, and betrayal, and anger. It’s tears welling up in her pretty, gray eyes and her mouth falling open and closed at the sight of you. 

But Fuyumi, well, Fuyumi wants to join you. It’s taking everything in her not to fall to her knees and sink her teeth into the neck of this possibly innocent man. She wants to drink and kiss you, and drink, and touch you, and then drink some more, this time from your neck. But Fuyumi doesn’t kill for blood, and she thought that neither did you. 

“I can’t believe you.” Her words are quiet. If you both hadn’t been outside on a completely silent night, you don’t think you would have even heard her. 

“Fuyumi…” You begin, standing up from where you’d previously crouched down, blood on your hands falling against the concrete in sticky splatters. She takes a step back like she’s scared of you. 

“You killed him.”

“Fuyumi,” another step.

“Stay there.” You stop. It’s not supposed to be like this. She’s supposed to love you. She does love you. You have to tell yourself that. 

“I’m a vampire. What did you expect? This is who we are.” You try to explain. 

“It’s not—it’s not who I am.” She shakes her head, flashes of red appear behind her eyes, the teeth of her brothers, her hands covered in blood the same way yours are now. Laughing, hollering, arms tangled together, the last time they’d all been with each other, the last time they were happy. 

“It is. It is who you are. Fuyumi, you’re starving.” Your words seem to do something to her, her mouth falls closed. A decision is made, and her feet take her closer and closer to you and the body on the floor. 

She wraps her hand around the back of your neck, thumbs through the blood you’re covered in and kisses you. She licks the blood on your lips, moaning from either your tongue or taste, you’re unsure. You pull her close, blood smearing against her white t-shirt. She pulls away from your lips, kissing your jaw and your neck, poking her tongue out to lick up the mess. You place your hands on her cheeks, pulling her back to look at you. 

“Come here.” You whisper, pulling her down as you crouch to the ground. “I want you to drink—I want to share.”

She lets you pull her down, taking your hand in hers, slippery, slick. You move away from his neck, leaving it open for her, urging her. This is what she wants. There’s something about drinking from your bite in the man’s neck. You’ve been here, you’re bite is her bite is her blood. 

And, god, is it delicious. She drinks, lets it fall down her throat in large gulps, dripping down her chin and neck. A sound escapes her throat, guttural, everything she’s deprived herself of having, here in between her teeth. She watches you while she drinks, eyes looking up through white lashes, reaching a hand out to hold you by the wrist, grounded. She pulls away, heaving, even though she has no need for breath. Her lips, saturated in red, begging to be tasted.

“You’re beautiful like that,” You speak, squeezing her hand, “with his blood on your mouth.”

She kisses you, all tongue, her fangs catching on your bottom lip. She pulls away and pushes you down, lets you bite the other side of the dead man’s neck, pets your hair as you drink. It goes on like this for a while, kissing, drinking, touching, whispers of please and oh, god and both of your names over and over until you’re a jumbled mess of words and sounds and blood and guts. 

You stumble, half naked through the door, Fuyumi’s hands and lips all over you. You don’t make it to the bed, a habit the two of you have seemed to form, falling down on the hardwood, limbs all tangled. With her shirt already discarded outside, you thumb the hooks of her bra open, throwing it to the side. Blood has dripped from her throat down between the valley of her breasts, and you lick it up, feeling her back arch as she hovers above you. 

She kisses your neck, almost frantic. Her fangs brush against your skin like she might sink into you, but she doesn’t, just kisses you so sweetly. 

“Can I bite you, please?” She moans. “I need to—I’ve wanted to—”

“Yes.” You interrupt her, throwing your head back against the floor and baring your neck to her. She wastes no time sinking her fangs into your flesh, blood pouring into her mouth. Coppery and sweet, a hint of licorice and cherry—Fuyumi thinks she can’t get enough. You gasp, hands grabbing at her waist, fingers digging into her sides enough to leave a mark. You’ve never felt pain like this, all agony and bliss. 

She smiles at you, bloody, when she pulls away. A part of you is her’s now, nestled between her ribs, living in her stomach. You taste yourself on her lips, hands pulling at her jeans, your leg moving between her thighs to grind against her cunt. 

You flip her onto her back, sucking on her neck, venturing down her body. You pull her jeans from her legs, along with her underwear, spreading her legs. She’s so wet, thighs sticky with arousal as you run a finger through her folds. A whine escapes her lips as you thumb over her clit. With your eyes on her, you press your tongue to her entrance, watching how her face contorts in pleasure. It reminds you of the way she’d stared at you while drinking from the man, hand clutched to your wrist, not once daring to look away, With one hand, you reach up to do the same, bloody fingers circling her wrist as you devour her. 

She writhes, arching her back and grinding against your face, a mess of slick and blood pooling in your mouth as you bring her closer and closer to orgasm. 

“Please!” She cries, “please! Oh my god!”

Her moans only spur you on as you speed up the movement of your tongue, squeezing her wrist as you let her move her hips against your mouth. She comes with a strangled cry of your name, legs shaking around your head, falling limp against the floor as you lick at her swollen clit. You pull away, rising from your place in between her thighs to hover over her.

“Like that?” You ask her, placing soft kisses against her jaw. She manages a soft mhm before moving her face to kiss you.You run your hands up and down the sides of her body, “so pretty…”

“Let me touch you.” She begs, pushing herself up onto her elbows. You nod, letting her maneuver you so you’re on your back again. She kisses you again, swirling her tongue against yours, tasting herself. In a way, part of her is yours now, too.

She slips her hand into your underwear, gasping at the feeling of how wet you are. You take the opportunity to lick into her mouth, moaning against her lips as she slips two fingers inside of you. She pulls away from your mouth and eyes the open wound on your neck. You lock eyes with her, nodding in approval, allowing her to bite you again. 

She bites and curls her fingers inside you at the same time. A choked scream escapes your throat at both sensations. You move your hips as she pumps her fingers in and out of you, her throat bobbing with each drink she takes from you. It’s overwhelming, and so satisfying, being the consumed for a change. 

Her thumb brushes over your clit and you jolt, gripping her waist as she brings you closer to the edge. 

“Kiss me!” You cry, “Fuyumi!” 

She pulls away from your neck, watching how the blood flows from the wound, continuing her movements against your pussy. You pull her down to kiss you as you come from her fingers. You’re both moaning against each other, passing your blood between your tongues. She pulls her hand from between your legs, stares at the pink-tinted slick and how it webs between her fingers before wrapping her lips around her fingers and sucking them clean off. 

She smiles down at you, hair a mess, glasses-less as they’d fallen off much earlier. You press your palms against her cheeks, admiring her. This Fuyumi is hungry, and bloody, and the furthest thing from human. You love her like this. You’ll be her’s forever, if she’ll have you. 

You pull her into the shower with you, washing the blood from her hair and her back, taking turns and watching the blood swirl down the drain. She cleans the wound on your neck, and places a bandage over it, though you know it’ll be healed by morning. You place her glasses back onto her face. The two of you fall into bed, finally, arms and legs tangled together, huddled closely. She rubs over the bandage on your neck. 

“Next time, I wanna bite you, okay?” You ask, nudging your nose against her. She lets out a laugh you’re excited to hear for the rest of your immortal life and nods. 

“I can’t wait.”

[erikahenningsen]

🎲 Kiss Roulette! 41 please :)

40. An impulsive kiss

41. A kiss out of spite

Janis is talking to some girl.

Janis went to go to the bathroom ten minutes ago, and now Regina has just spotted her talking to some girl by the bar, while Regina waits patiently at the table in the corner that they have claimed.

Regina makes the herculean effort to give Janis—and this girl—the benefit of the doubt. She sets a time on her phone for three minutes, which is totally generous, not to mention more than enough time for Janis to tell this girl with the bleached tips and tattoo sleeve that she is happily taken.

Regina tries not to stare directly at them for the full three minutes, and fails—but it's the effort that counts, doesn't it? She looks at some spot above the bar where she can still see them out of the corner of her eye, and takes deep breaths in through her nose. She feels itchy all over, like if she just sunk her nails into the skin on her arm she'd feel better, but she settles for gripping the edge of the table.

The girl touches Janis's arm right as the time goes off, and Regina is out of her seat so fast she leaves her drink abandoned on the table, but it doesn't matter. She strides with enough purpose through the crowded bar that people part automatically, maybe assuming that she's experiencing some kind of emergency.

And, honestly? She kind of is.

"Janis," Regina says, almost breathlessly, when she reaches them. She had spent all of her time watching them thinking about ways to insult this girl's outfit, her hair, her stupid button nose that crinkles when she laughs at something Janis said, and now that Regina is here in front of them, she has no game plan.

"Oh, hey," Janis says—casually, like she isn't the first domino in what could very well end in murder.

The girl turns to Regina with such an annoyed expression that, before she can think it through, Regina grabs Janis by the front of her shirt, pulls her in, and kisses her.

It's a bit more forceful than intended, their noses bumping and teeth scraping in a way that Regina hates for a moment, but once Janis relaxes a little, it's good. The surprise has allowed Regina to take immediate control of the kiss in a way that doesn't happen very often, because Janis's love language is annoying Regina, but Regina relishes in having the upper hand, at least for the moment.

Regina tilts her head so their lips slot together, Janis's bottom lip in between both of Regina's, and runs the lip of her tongue over it at the same time she slides the hand not clenching Janis's shirt into the back pocket of Janis's low-slung jeans.

Kissing Janis never gets old in the way kissing Aaron or Shane immediately did, butterflies fluttering to life in her stomach before venturing outward into her chest, her limbs. The hand that wraps firmly, possessively, around the back of her neck doesn't help.

Distantly, Regina is aware of the girl huffing loudly before storming away. Her mission is accomplished, but she still takes a couple extra minutes to press their bodies impossibly closer, wishing they weren't in a public space so she could back Janis up against the bar, but Regina has been kicked out of enough establishments to know where the line is.

"What was that for?" Janis asks when they finally part.

Regina wrinkles her nose. Does Janis not know? "That girl."

"What about her?" Janis looks completely lost.

"The one touching your arm? She was totally hitting on you," Regina says shortly.

Janis stares at her for a moment before bursting out laughing.

"What's so funny?" Regina asks, immediately irritated by not being in on the joke.

"Babe," Janis says, smacking Regina's hand away where she pinches her side. "She's in the pottery class I take on Saturdays. She's totally straight."

"Oh," Regina says, doing a quick internal check to see if she feels bad about the show they just gave Janis's friend. She doesn't. "Well, she shouldn't be touching your arm in a bar anyway."

Janis raises one eyebrow. Regina hates when Janis does that. It's a reminder that Janis is amused—not intimidated—by her.

"Or you could just act normal in public," Janis says. "Like,even just a few days a week."

"I do act normal in public," Regina says, crossing her arms.

Janis raises a hand to her mouth, slowly wiping Regina's lipstick away with her thumb. Regina's eyes track the movement, and Janis notices and smirks.

"Sure you do."

[wonfilms]

STRAY KIDS’ HYUNG LINE WHEN THEY BREAK YOUR FAVOURITE MUG.

genre : fluff, borderline crack 

includes : bangchan, lee know, hyunjin, changbin

word count : 2.9k

a/n : i had a bit too much fun writing this, this was all @g4m3girl​ ‘s fault btw

bangchan would feel so guilty that he would probably call you up at work with the shakiest tone in his voice, you’d genuinely think that someone had passed away from the wobble in his words... “babe, i need to tell you something... can you sit down first though?”

you’d be so prepared to shed tears over someone and then he’d say “babe i boke your favourite mug, the one with the cat ears...”  

 he’d sound so guilty but you wouldn’t be able to help yourself from bursting out in laughter...  “i’m so sorry it slipped from my hands and - are you laughing right now?” 

you would have to wipe your tears of laughter away, “babe i thought someone had died... you sounded so sad” 

“so you’re not mad??“ he just chuckles over the line before sighing in relief, “i promise i’ll get you a new one...“

lee know called you completely expecting you to yell at him, he’d take a deep breath before calling you “yooh! babe, sooo, i did something”

you’d have to prepare yourself because when lee know says that it could range from a haircut to actual murder, “what did you do- you’re scaring me???”

“so i accidentally broke your mug, you know the one that your friend bought you that you really love.. yeah...“ you could hear him holding his breath over the line, “lee know calm down.“ you teased him over the phone, before you heard him let out a big sigh, “so you’re not like mad or anything?”

“no but you better get me a replacement mug that’s equally as amazing” you chuckled , “oh i can do that... i’m going to the store right now“ 

when you got home later that day you walked into the kitchen to see a beautifully wrapped mug on the countertop, you felt yourself smile before you turned the mug around to see the message printed on it, “mentally dating lee know, ”

when hyunjin came to the bedroom with a sheepish look on his face, you immediately knew he’d done something, you took your headphones out and cocked an eyebrow at him “hyun what’ve you done-??”  

“okay don’t be mad okay...“ he mumbled, “so i accidentally broke your favourite mug... ‘m so sorry, it just slipped from my hands and smashed...“

you almost felt guilty yourself when you saw how visibly upset he was.. “hyunjin it’s okay? you didn’t hurt yourself did you?”  

“no but i’ll get you a new mug i promise! “ he smiles finally, coming over to give you a hug, “we can go to the make your own pottery class on the weekend, and paint mugs for each other”

you felt yourself grin at how cute the idea was, “yeah! let’s do that!”

changbin came over to you with the broken pieces of porcelain in his hands and the most worried expression on his face, “BABE , I BROKE YOUR HELLO KITTY MUG, I’M SO SORRY” 

you’d have to calm him down and put the remains of your favourite mug in the bin, “changbin it’s okay... ” you chuckled holding his hands in yours. 

“i’ll get you an even better hello kitty mug i promise!“ he grins sheepishly, “and i’ll even put a bow on it“

[tciddaemina]

FUCK ME ALRIGHT SO

i was walking home and this idea hit my like a sack full of bricks and i am now dying. bc okay, fuck, just listen

moshang transformers!au

Shang Qinghua is a depressed millennial on the verge of poverty barely scraping by with two minimum wage jobs, who has a rocky relationship with his parents (separated with new families, neither of whom want him around), with no friends to speak of, who takes pottery making classes in an attempt to have some sort of human connection. He writes in his free time, with the face hopeless aspiration that he could maybe make something of it (it isn't working), struggling every day with the thought of whether or not the world would be better off if he just ended things

Mobei Jun is a high-ranking decepticon general who's crashed on earth and is injured and in hiding, which Shang Qinghua stumbles across in the middle of the night and who (basically) holds Shang Qinghua hostage - threatening to kill him and coercing him into giving him a hiding place

which ends up with broke!freaked out!Shang Qinghua hiring a private garage last second at great cost, to hide this killer robot and him getting threatened/kidnapped/coerced into hiding him and playing lacky, going out and buying extremely suspicious quantities of industrial grade motor oil and shit like that, as he gets even more freaked out about how much money this is chewing through and how he's going to pay rent.

and its basically just suicidal!desperate!millennial v. giant!homocidal!robot

Mobei-Jun: mentions something about being part of an empire of evil robots, with enemies looking for him

Shang Qinghua: wait what do you mean you're the bad guy??? (thinks: oh, actually, maybe all the threatening and murderousness should have tipped him off, whoops)

and ends up with situations with Shang Qinghua accidentally claiming to be king of earth and having to stick to the lie bc-

Mobei-Jun: something something we're going to conqeur this planet-

Shang Qinghua: what? you can't! it's my planet

Mobei-Jun, suspicious: it's yours? the planet belongs to you

Shang Qinghua, sweating, thinking quickly: I- Uh. Yeah. Yeah it's my planet. It belongs to me. You can't conquer it. I- That's the price of me helping you. If you want me to keep doing things for you, then the price is that you have to agree not to mess with my planet.

and Mobei-Jun, who knows enough about humans to know things like monarchies exist, and who comes from a plant once governed by one single planetary body is like- okay, makes sense, and doesn't think on it more.

and basically it's half crack of Shang Qinghua hiding a giant robot fugitive, and complaining that he's getting broke, and Mobei-Jun breaking open an ATM for him, and Shang Qinghua freaking out even more, as Shang Qinghua has to make up increasingly more intricate lies about why nobody else acts like he's king (it's part of our culture, we have, uh- uh, indomitable free will. nobody can tell anyone else what to do, so it would be rude if they acted like i was special) and Mobei-Jun nods along, and then transmits them back to the rest of the decepticons as part of his intel about the planet, which leads to them also thinking Shang Qinghua is king of the planet and-

and it all spirals to Shang Qinghua getting fucked by Mobei-Jun who's decided that actually maybe he's going to keep Shang Qinghua around, and when the whole Decepticon-Autobot (Demon v cultivator) war reaches point as Autobots arrive to try defend the earth, only for there to be a great deal of confusion as Mobei-Jun tells them there isn't an invasion, and actually the Decepticons have parleyed with the local ruler and are here on treaty, so there's no fighting at all

(how was Shang Qinghua supposed to know that an offhanded comment about inaccessible minerals deep below the earth's crust when Mobei-Junw as talking about destroying cities to mine for some rare thing was like, an agreement-)

anyway, it ends with the Autobots very confused, but not able to fight bc technically no one is in danger, and the Decepticons being very smug, and Shang Qinghua stuck in the middle of it just sweating because this all hinges on a truly insane lie that literally any human would be able to tell was total bullshit, and somehow it works

(and also maybe as an aside in a companion fic, Luo Binghe is super head honcho decepticon commander, who absolutely doesn't get Mobei-Jun's weird fetish attraction to this one flesh-bag, except then he sees one too bc enter stage right Shen Yuan, and Luo Binghe goes head over heels, and then there's desperately awkward interactions as Luo Binghe tries to ask Mobei-Jun for details on how one actually goes about fucking a human, which. its just too funny.)

anyway yeah, that's the idea i had while standing there in the street, waiting for the lights

[crisalidaseason]

Day 7: New experiences

So, I was a little sick due to chronic illness, but I managed to do a little something for day 7. It's not much, but it's my farewell to this sweet event that I am so grateful for!

CW: beelzebub being a menace and a smooth criminal, also ineffable bureaucracy being disgustingly sweet, michael slander (a little bit)

"Have you seen this individual? Please contact the authorities immediatly-"

The strange device - that Gabriel quickly learned was named television - was showing a picture of a familiar looking person.

"They are a suspect of multiple crimes, such as: Arson, conspiracy, disturbing the peace, harassment, fraud, identity theft, attempted murder in strange circunstances, shoplifting, vandalism"

Gabriel proudly put a hand on his chest, while sipping some hot chocolate he had to miracle the bartender to make. He softly kissed the top of Beelzebub's hat. The little flies sleeping on the curve of the hat buzzed slightly.

"I outdid myself with that face" Beelzebub admired as their transfigured face was exhibited on the screen "it's almost creepily similar to them"

"Do you think they will notice up there?" the angel said.

Beelzebub was resting their head on the angel's shoulders, still admiring their crime streak. There was nothing better than causing absolute chaos strictly for fun, not something Beelzebub was ever able to do in hell.

"We could send them a picture, one that shows how beautifully I mimicked Michael's face" the demon replied.

Gabriel's chest rumbled in Beelzebub's ears. More kisses on the hat.

"Oh, to be a fly in heaven when they see it" the previous archangel laughed.

"We can send the one I gave you!" the lord of flies perked up.

Gabriel looked at their perfect little demon, sighing in admiration, which prompted Beelzebub to kiss the angel's lips. The two kept cuddling and exchanging kisses while contemplating the demon's masterpiece around the city. The poor bar regulars were pretty much tired of the lovey-dovey intimidating couple, but never daring to say anything.

"We should go, our pottery class starts soon" the demon reminded Gabriel while checking the clock.

"Oh, I almost forgot!" the angel stood up, offering his hand to the demon and leaving the bar.

[catreginae]

So the fun part about the Artemis and Athena debate is that when you consider things like Artemis being the goddess of hunting and the wilderness (one of the ways to identify Artemis in pottery is to look for a female with a bow and an animal or animal skin) and Athena being the patron goddess of one of the biggest city states in the Aegean, it kind of comes back around to the idea that Warriors is a city boy.

Athena, the goddess, has connections with a well-run city state, which in ancient Greece is kind of considered to be its own political entity separate from other ancient Greek city states. In the Homeric Hymn 11, Homer refers to her as the guardian of cities and works in opposition of bloodthirsty Ares. In Book 3 of the Orestia, she founded the Athenian justice system, understanding the fact that mortals should have a say to how to deal with things like murder since it affects the mortals more than the gods. Since the Athenian justice system utilizes an even number of judges, her vote will always go for innocence to break any ties. She also uses turns an enemy of the state (the Furies) into protectors of the Athens in the same play by pulling the dad card (she's Zeus' favourite kid, she's allow to talk on his behalf sometimes).

And if we like connecting the Links to their respective Zeldas, then Athena kind of fits better with HW Zelda because it also fits Warriors kind of better, since he at least works close to cities and towns to defend them. This idea is actually kind of relevant to some history here in the west where cities and towns have popped up around forts and those places retain the name of the fort they formed around.

It's aspects like this that makes me prefer Athena over Artemis, but I'm not here to change people's mind. I'm just pointing out something interesting to me since I've taken several Classic classes in univeristy! If you like Artemis, good for you! Honestly! I'm only here to promote Athena being a perfectly good alternative for people who are interested in using that name.

[dtccompendium]

Episoe 228: The Murderous Pottery Class (Part 1)

Ran goes to Sonoko’s new pottery class so she can make a cup for Shinichi, after having a dream of him in a haunted house soap opera thunderstorm widow lover scenario. The pottery class has a kind of dysfunctional family running it. There’s the instructor – an old man with spiky grey things sticking out of his head. He has really big eyes. Then there’s his son in law, Moto Mino, who was married to Spiky's perfect daughter, Everlasting Love, who died two years ago. Moto Mino is a “meano,” who just got life insurance, and only married Everlasting Love so that he could steal all their money and divorce her. But then she died. He professes all of this very candidly to his new love interest, the pottery assistant with short black hair. She asks him if he’ll die for her. All of this is overheard by Old Man Spiky Head, staring at them menacingly from the doorway. After sending the assistant back to class, he compliments Moto’s new necktie, which Moto doesn’t like because it’s beige. But Spiky says, “No on the contrary, I think it would look great AROUND YOUR NECK!” Meanwhile, Sonoko and Ran are fighting over pottery, and almost crack Ran’s Shinichi Cup. They hear a smash, but it’s not the cup. It’s Old Man Spikey Head in the storeroom with a broken plate, which he then asks them to clean up for him. Later he cuts his finger on a shard of glass, and asks the assistant to go get the first aid kit, and has her specify exactly where she’s going to find it – in the upper part of the closet in the storeroom. A couple minutes later, they realize that nobody has seen Moto for a while, so they go searching for him, thinking he’s playing hide-and-seek. That’s about when Ran spots his apron sticking out of the bottom of the closet in the storeroom. The assistant goes to open the doors, but Old Man Spiky Head insists upon opening it himself, to reveal Moto-san’s body. The police arrive, and Old Man Spiky Head tries to pin all the blame on the assistant. Then one of the police officers loses his pen, so he offers to get him a new one. In the other room, he opens the drawer where the pens are kept, and instead discovers scissors, which he stares at with a broad grin. This is when Conan hops on the scene and torments him for a while. First he brings him over to the pottery wheel and tells him how excited he is to be finished with his pottery. Then he says Spiky must like things to be symmetrical, and points out all the mistakes he made in his crime, all in his little kid Conan voice. Finally, probably thoroughly freaked out, Spiky looks at the cup and says “It looks like you’re hiding something. The pottery never lies.” To which Conan replies “This is actually your cup. Are you hiding something? Are you hiding something? ARE YOU HIDING SOMETHING?

[definitionsfading]

bite-sized bullet train fic master list (lemon/tangerine) 🍋🍊✨

as this fan space gets older and more disjointed as the months pass by I figured I’d keep all my lemon/tangerine titles in one place for future reference. there are only four of them! but I’m proud of what small diversity they brought to this fandom, so here they are (each title is a hyperlink)

pretty bubbles in the air || 24K || Explicit

And then Lemon's mind is somewhere outside the imaginary hospital morgue, lost among the train wreckage, knowing he has to go back and knowing that he can’t because it’ll be swarmed with the feds by now, or whatever the Japanese equivalent of the fucking feds is, and if he wanted to claim the body he should’ve already—

A door to his left opens abruptly, letting the sound of steadily beeping monitors out into the hall, and the nurse emerging with a machine on wheels nearly runs into him head-on.

Lemon curses under his breath and falters as they avoid collision, and it’s only in the split few seconds the nurse fumbles there in the doorway that he looks up, with a crystalline line of uninterrupted sight straight into the occupied ICU room, and sees a lank shock of chin-length, light brown hair resting against a white pillow.

Thomas taught him a lot, yeah, but nothing much about how to keep your world from shrinking down to the size of a pinhead and shattering into a million pieces in a moment like this one.

notes: post-canon, Tangerine Lives, fix-it fic, whump, healing, hurt/comfort, trauma & coping, rekindled romance, not a siblings fic

under your skin || 4.2K || Explicit 

This is the silent secret, Lemon thinks, that nobody but the two of them know when people in the industry call them The Twins. This is what he’s willing to kill for and would’ve died for again and again. It’s something that runs deeper than the surface layer, this thing he and Tangerine have got—a kind of truth that anchors itself and settles like a sharpened barb under your skin.

notes: post-canon, Tangerine Lives, injury recovery, first time (in a long time), emotional sex, crying, not a siblings fic

citrus and blood || 2K || Mature

The unspoken truth that he’s too weak to bathe himself properly stands in the room between them like a third silent body. Tangerine almost wishes his vocal cords were truly thrashed and ruined so he wouldn’t have to acknowledge it aloud, wouldn’t have to admit defeat before the battle ever began.

He’s sitting beside the tub, awkwardly wedged between the toilet and the wall, head lolled off to rest on a towel folded under his cheek there on the edge of the bath. Breaths come shallowly, almost in haggard pants from the mix of nausea and exhaustion. Everything still smells like hospital antiseptic, blood, and electrical fire. It’s been three days since the train went off-rail—at least according to Lemon’s dodgy appraisal of time—and Tangerine still can’t burn the scent of near-death out of his nose.

notes: post-canon, Tangerine Lives, injury recovery, bathing/washing, caretaking, blood, emotions, ample tenderness, Gentle Lemon, not a siblings fic

right hand man || 3.2K || Explicit 

“How ‘bout instead of plotting premeditated murder off the clock, why don’t you think of something creative to do with that emancipated right hand of yours,” Lemon says, tucking back into his plate. “Take a pottery class, learn to watercolour. You wanna point and shoot so bad? I’ll buy you a camera.”

“I’m gonna point and shoot on your smart arse when we get home,” Tangerine says darkly from the corner of his mouth, eyes cutting across Lemon at a bawdy angle. “Mark my words on that one.”

notes: post-canon, the Twins return to London, smut, banter, frottage, hand jobs, Lemon gets a massage and a few other things, not a siblings fic

[gallavichthings]

Writer’s Spotlight - Mhunter10

Be honest, y’all thought I had abandoned this series, didn’t you? But I hadn’t! In fact, this interview was done a long time ago, but posting was delayed for several reasons. It’s finally here though, and I’m very excited for you to read this one, because the writer we’re spotlighting today is a fandom veteran and one of our most prolific writers. Enter: Malenah, aka @mhunter10​!

GT: Ok, first of all, I've got to say, I'm so happy you agreed to talk to me! I missed you! How have you been?

M: Been up and down and dealing with some stuff, but I think I'm okay. I definitely miss writing.

GT: And we miss your writing. Is that why you stopped for a while, life just got in the way?

M: Yes, but also the fandom and show wasn't fun anymore. Tumblr policies got annoying and people weren't finding my stuff....people actively stealing my work and reposting without asking.

GT: Oh, that sucks. 😔 When did you join the fandom? And what made you want to? What was it about Shameless (or Gallavich) that captivated you?

M: Oof maybe 2013ish? 2015ish? Whenever Shameless first season was on. I actually didn't even have Showtime, I would literally sit on Tumblr and wait for someone to recap the episode or link a bootleg clip. I've always been into good queer stories as a queer, and Cam and Noel's dynamic was interesting and the sort of cute that makes you squeal like a little girl. 

GT: They've always had a lot of chemistry. Did you start writing fics right away? What made you want to start?

M: I was actually writing for another fandom/couple for a while way before Shameless. For Gallavich I was mainly just making headcanons that sometimes turned into drabbles. Eventually I wrote longer fics and started posting to AO3. I'd respond to someone else's headcanon or idea with a short fic.

GT: A lot of people still do that nowadays. That was one of my favorite things about your fics, actually, the fact that most of them were short and I could get my quick Gallavich fix without compromising my lack of a long attention span. 😅

M: Haha I was the queen of the drabble.

GT: What fandom were you writing for before, if you don't mind me asking? Was it the first you wrote fics for?

M: A soap opera called As the World Turns😅. I was writing fic when it was still airing new episodes in the middle of the day on CBS. I wrote for Luke and Noah and the fics are archived somewhere on the internet forever.

GT: Was it also the first fandom you read fics for?

M: I think so? Lol that sounds right. I also wrote some fics for Eyewitness, the US version.

GT: Let me backtrack, because we went straight into your experience with fandom, but I want to also know a bit about you. Please tell us a bit about yourself. 

M: Oh Haha well I'm 30. Black, bi, live in Maryland. Have a bachelor's and currently getting my master's. Write, paint, sculpt, collect, read, work… mostly work. Work work work. Fall is my favorite season. Libra. Currently have 8 tattoos. Live with my partner, 3 years together. Umm...I've got arthritis and hip dysplasia so lol....anyone wanting to murder me now has everything they need to know and opportunity.

GT: Hahahaha That was very in-depth, indeed! What's your masters about?

M: Organizational Sciences.

GT: I don't know what that is, but it feels like something I should study. 😅 What is it? And do you already work in that field or are branching out?

M: It's akin to industrial psychology...basically, how workplaces work and how to improve the work environment. Definitely has a lot of intangible skills everyone should have an understanding of if you work. It's very meta sometimes lol. Leadership, communications, change management, negotiation, etc.

GT: Oh, that's interesting! You mention you also paint and sculpt? Talk about a well-rounded artist! What got you into those?

M: I've just always been artsy fartsy crafty.....schmafty. Fun fact: walked out of my pottery class first day cuz the professor rubbed me the wrong way....took ballet instead. I'm mostly a painter but I have a lot of little things I've made out of clay just for fun.

GT: Like what? 

M: Mostly small food 😆. I paint whatever. I was an instructor for about 2 years.

GT: If you feel comfortable, could you maybe share a pic or two?

GT: They're all beautiful, but the one with the blue-haired woman is GORGEOUS! 😍

GT: Let's talk about Shameless. Do you have a favorite season and/or episode? 

M: Yikes, I honestly don't remember much but definitely before the whole show went off the rails. I think 1-4 are standouts, maybe 5 or 6. I only really stayed for Gallavich. 

GT: I feel you, I actually stopped watching after S5.

M: Trevor was the worst.

GT: Why do you say that?

M: Not the actor ,obviously, but the whole storyline was not done right at all, imo. The whole jesus stuff was stupid. Frank continuing to live was stupid. All the stupid and inconsistent decisions compounded into me not giving a shit anymore.

GT: Did you actually watch all the seasons? Because I myself skipped S6 to S9. What did you think of the ending?

M: The ending I saw was the wedding stuff, but I haven't watched anything after.

GT: Do you intend to or will you just consider the wedding the end and that's it? Either way, what did you think of the wedding? Or the fact that there was one. The early-seasons fan in me was in shock it even happened. Once Mickey came back for 9x06, I figured that was as good as it was going to ever get.

M: I knew they would do it. They baited us, kept us on the hook and reeled us back in with the Gallavich crap. I thought the wedding was fine, didn't understand half the people there. Oh wait I also watched some of the stuff with them in the apartment and trying to adjust to that which was actually pretty interesting. I didn't really keep up after that, just saw some gifs here and there. I think they had sex in an ambulance with a dead person? I don't really understand why they have to keep doing illegal stuff. I refuse to believe Fiona would not even show up or call or check in, but I understand why Emmy wanted to cut full ties with the show

GT: I agree, I never understood why not have Fiona keep in touch, or just have one of them mentioned she called. But it's the same thing they did with Mickey at the end of season 5. Instead of cutting Noel from the show, but still having Mickey be somewhat present through mentions, they decided he'd be arrested AND Ian would break up with him. And then they mentioned things about him that weren't true. That made no sense at all. How would you have written their ending if you got to choose?

M: I've written their ending lol; just a short fic reimagining the day after the wedding. I liked the apartment stuff. I would've written them trying to find Mandy eventually leaving the show due to a positive sign she wanted to reconnect. They need to leave the Southside. But during their search, Mickey goes to school. Maybe some shenanigans ensue, but ultimately he does well enough to graduate. I'd see Ian writing a book.

GT: Ian writing a book? That's something I never thought of. A biography or fiction?

M: Maybe a memoir.

GT: What about other moments of the show? If you could change one thing the show did with them, what would it be? 

M: Everything. Anything I ever had an issue with, I usually turned into some sort of fic in retaliation. I did a fic rewriting their meeting at the docks, and also one where Ian finds Mickey in Mexico. I did one of when Ian came home from the hospital and Mickey is taking care of him, but ends up helping Fiona with some chores. 

GT: Ok, but if you could only choose one? Sophie's choice, I know. Well, reverse Sophie's choice. 😅

M: Idk I'd redo all the stuff with Yevgeny and not make Mickey forget all about him.

GT: Great point. Just one more thing that doesn't make sense in this show. Ok, now let's talk fanfiction. What kind of fics do you write the most? I mean, I know you're the drabble queen, but what else?

M: My fics range from absolute crack fucking with the readers, to gut wrenching, to smut, to whatever passion project I think 2 people will read. I've written some lengthy stuff. Two wips I'm ashamed to admit I forgot where I was going with them as the reason I haven't updated them are White Coats and, by far my most popular fic, The Sugar Daddy. I also have several series going with trans Mickey, fratboy Mickey, geek Mickey, etc.

GT: I can relate, I also have a WIP I don't know how to continue. I have the plot planned, but... I don't quite know how to get there. Do you have a personal favorite among your fics, one that you were especially proud to write?

M: Definitely The Sugar Daddy, but they're all my babies to some extent, even the less popular and early ones. I liked writing pregnant Mickey. And I like some of my fantasy spins, like Mickey meeting Santa lol, and Ian in Oz.

GT: If you had to rewrite a fic you wrote, which one would you choose and how would you change it?

M: I have over 400 fics so I know I myself am forgetting a lot of them lol.

GT: I have way less and I forget mine too, so I can only imagine. 😁

M: When I come across an oldy it's always fun to read it with fresh eyes haha. I don't think I would rewrite any.

GT:  No regrets, huh?

M: Pretty much.

GT: Fair enough. Now, you said it yourself, you have A LOT of fics out there. Where do you get your ideas from?

M: I tend to write in a zone so whatever I put out there is what I wanted out there in the moment. I have an idea and just go with it and see how it comes together

GT: You said you write in a zone. How do you get in that zone? (asking for a friend)

M: I've had somewhere I just could not figure out how to get it out of my head in a way that makes sense so those just never see the light of day or they find their way magically into something else. It's probably an undiagnosed adhd thing but I hit a groove and can keep going as long as I'm excited. That excitement is generated by how much I think what I've written is going to make people shit their pants. I have a fic titled Ian Snaps Mickey's Neck. 

GT: Lol that sounds like a good motivator. So I'm assuming you don't plan your fics much?

M: Not like pages and pages of details before I even begin, but I know major points and how I want to lead up to some of them. That's not to say I'm not just winging it most of the time. Sometimes I'll come up with something better or different based on reactions if it's a multichap. Prompts are a little tricky sometimes cuz the person is expecting the thing so you need to do the thing. 

GT: What about research? Do you do any before or during writing?

M: A little if I want to make sure I'm saying something correctly, either words or phrases. Places sometimes, or if I want to actually describe something specific. For example, in the Sugar Daddy I have a few links to items Ian gets Mickey just to add to the visuals but I'm not expecting everyone reading to care enough about the minutiae of how much it costs to take a bus in Chicago. I stick with what's relevant and if I think people will get the point without me turning in a research paper. 

GT: Do you have a preference for writing from Ian's or Mickey's pov?

M: No preference just whatever the story calls for [whose pov do I write more, it's definitely Mickey].

GT: Do you write other characters aside from Ian and Mickey?

M: I've written a couple fics that include other Shameless characters and definitely some original characters. 

GT: Which Shameless characters do you write more often? Do you write fics just about them or only include them in your Gallavich fics?

M: Ian and Mickey for sure, others as needed for the story but I know I've done a fic from Debbie's perspective a long time ago? Or Carl....

GT: You mentioned you sometimes include OCs. How do you create them? Do you base them on real people?

M: No, definitely not. I mean, if there is any originality in an original character anymore ie. typical archetypes. I at least try to make them their own character and not just an npc.

GT: You write a good deal of mpreg, a trope that a lot of people don't like. What attracts you to it?

M: Hahaha a good deal? I wrote 2 at the most. To me it's just another way of writing something. I've read some weird shit that I definitely would never write myself.

GT: Really? It was more in my mind. 😅 What are some tropes you enjoy writing?

M: I like writing scenarios that actually happen to me sometimes. Makes things feel more real. I guess I subscribe to the usual angsty stuff. But I genuinely like writing fun and sweet, sexy and loving, intimate.

GT: Is there anything you think you could never write?

M: Incest, child stuff, dom/sub, animals.

GT: Do your preferences apply when reading as well? What kind of things do you enjoy reading about?

M: Haha I've stumbled into some fics where I'm not sure if the subject or the writing turned me off more.

GT: Like what? What makes you quickly hit the back button?

M: If it's great writing, I might skip around some bits. Otherwise yeah, I'm not reading anything that I'd have to announce to a room at gunpoint. But that's for my own peace, some things just should not be written.

GT: One more thing, out of curiosity: where does your url come from? I get the M from your name, but why hunter10?

M:  It's my last name and birth month and username for everything because I'm a basic and terrible person 😆.

GT: What are you currently reading?

M: The one where Ian is the reading tutor and has a cat, Paragraphs by @palepinkgoat​. I also like their other stuff and am always extremely jealous, feel free to mention that haha.  Jealous and supportive, but still… lol. And I really do want to finish The Sugar Daddy but for now I'm going to get back into writing slowly with updating some of my series. Before that I was reading Deaf Group by @thevioletjones​, another fav. Unfortunately a lot of my list is orphaned, deleted or no updates since 2015.

GT: Yeah, a lot of people left the fandom around the time, which is sad, but understandable. I understand orphaning your fics, and of course shit happens, so abandoned WIPs are normal, but I don't get the reasoning behind just deleting something you created, unless you later realized it was in poor taste. But well, to each their own. Ok, so I was going to ask you about your plans for more, but you've already said you want to finish The Sugar Daddy. Any other plans? 

M: No other plans really. I always think I'm going to write this idea I've had but I'm not skilled enough to do it

GT: And finally, leave a message for those reading this interview, please.

M: Ehh....hi,this is Malenah and you're watching Disney channel.

Idk. Be careful, be safe, be aware of your surroundings. I love you.

Drink some water and keep going.

[storyteller-aprendiz]

I love that in student body, Vincent says, "Is so fuzzy and tactile." Meaning they're partly committing murder for the sensory stimulation.

QUINCY would be like: What if I get you a stim toy instead? Slime? Maybe pottery or sewing classes?

[romanceyourdemons]

there are many ways in which luis buñuel’s the criminal life of archibaldo de la cruz (1955) puts me in mind of american psycho (2000). both films depict a handsome and fantastically wealthy young man glide through the frothy upper echelons of society while committing a series of brutal and highly sexualized murders that are vividly real to him but have a more tenuous relationship with reality for the rest of society. while patrick bateman’s murders are treated by the film as more real than archibaldo de la cruz’s, both films use this premise to explore a similar phenomenon: the chronic understimulation of the upper class. luis buñuel explores with even greater breadth than mary harron the different destructive and meaningless hobbies the wealthy take on to stave away boredom and disguise their isolation: gambling, religion, affairs, modeling, pottery, and serial murder. they consider these hobbies the most real and portentous things in the world, whereas something as minor as a revolution is irrelevant to their reality, relegated to the pictures of a storybook at the beginning of the film. both this film and american psycho (2000) address and fairly neatly reject the trope serial killing being a manifestation or result of queerness; the killing urge in these wealthy men is not the result of their natures but of their situations, situations in which they have always held all the power in their lives and have always been taught to want more. this increase in power is sought through sexuality and violence, and proves to be just as meaningless and ephemeral as the rest of the dubious personal merits by which they might claim to deserve their status. the portrayal of the wealthy in the criminal life of archibaldo de la cruz (1955), while by no means a deviation from buñuel’s standard treatment of the topic, is a fascinating and highly entertaining one, and this is certainly one of buñuel’s films that i would recommend

[bornetoblood]

001 moon divorce 😌 they’re just so ough….

my guys......

Link to the questions!

When I started Shipping it: Probaly a couple months after I got into Bloodborne! I think it started with me going "oh yeah that'd work I think" and then the more lore digging and thinking I did the worse the brainrot got.

My Thoughts: I love them.... so much. They are Yharnam's murder powercouple of my dreams. They set up the Church together... they burn the city down together... they summon god together and it rips them apart... Laurence is the only guy Gehrman cares about being 'useful' for and Gehrman progressivly comes to represent Laurence's humanity- all the things he wishes to discard but cannot. Their love, as rotted and gorey as it is, drives every part of the game to me.

What Makes Me Happy About them: Murder couple antics. Gehrman kills people for Laurence cus he's devoted and Laurence literally likes to bathe in the blood of his enemies. They hold hands and skip through a field of corpses :) Sitcom where your husband is a theocratic dictator and you kill the people he sees as a threat.

What Makes Me Sad About them: The fact that they're seperated at the fault of their own hubris. They literally do nothing but fuck around and find out and it catches up to them. Also the fact that they're slowly forgetting each other too that also hurts. Oh and how Gehrman apologises for dying in that one cut line that... oh wow.

Things Done In Fanfic That Annoy Me: THAT THERE IS NON. Jk... I'm not into how the characters can be flattened, I suppose. I'm personally not into 'Laurence did nothing wrong' takes or Gehrman as just 'creepy old man lmao' both of those hurt. Also when ppl make them straight (I'm only half joking).

Things I Look For In Fanfic: They need to be fucked up AND evil to the world and each other. They've both gotta be little freaks in some capacity. I NEED guys who are so in love but make their lives and the lives of those around them significantly worse.

Who Else I'd Be Alright With Them Ending Up With: Lozza isn't monogomous to me anyway he's dating like 5 seperate guys. I can only really see him having genuine feelings for Gehr (and he HATES it fr) but I feel like most ships with Laurence work just cus he's so involved in every aspect of the plot.

Gehrman I can't really ship with anyone else... maybe Ludwig? He sounds pretty upset when he mentions him. Maybe Flora but I think she sees him as a sick hamster fr.

Their Happily Ever After: Ohh... I think Gehrman dreams about him and Laurence living in a secluded cottage house- no cults or werewolves. He does woodworking and Laurence is a local physician with no political power. It's nice, simple.

Lozza's ideal is him ascending and getting Gehrman out of the dream. Achieving his goal and saving that one guy he cares about :)

Big Spoon/Little Spoon: I feel like they take turns fr. Laurence is 5'7 he fits perfectly in the arms of this 8 foot somthing man. But then again, I think Gehr likes to be held and Laurence likes holding things.

Favourite Activity: I think they kill people as a cute date idea. Unironically they greatly miss tomb diving with each other: the excitement of near death experiences, the blood, the thrill of discovery. They occasionally participated in Hunts together but they were both so busy they didn't get the chance. Aside from murder I think Gehrman would love to drag Laurence along to a practical activity like pottery classes and Laurence LOVES getting Gehrman to attend theoretical debates with him.

[ichipercent]

That feeling when you want to read your favorite x reader stories from five years ago only to find out that it has been deleted by the writer and they deactivated their account.

I remember their username in quotev is H2O (or similar variation) and I read two of their stories that are so delicious I still think about them until now.

The first one is 'Comadreja', the reader and the love interest are both in college. They live in a world with super heroes and super villains. There is one strongest super hero named Comadreja and it is actually the love interest. The reader worked at a pottery store I think and has repeatedly said his cynical believe about the authenticity of heroes to the main lead.

The second one is 'Train of Thought'. It's a murder mystery inspired from The Murder of Orient Express. The reader worked at museum, handling old documents I think. In their town, there is this one big mystery from decades ago about a first class train that took the journey across a mountains at winter with a dozen of passengers. But when it arrived at the destination, the train is empty with its three employees tied and gagged at the machine room (?), the passengers are missing. Somehow the reader got transported in time and as murders occurred in the train they have to figure out the murderer before it's too late. I remember the passengers had roles, like the salesman, the foreign married couple (who actually a weapon dealer?), the war veteran, the doctor, the governess, etc. I remember the story is almost finished and has reached the second ending of the story.

I really really really want to read these stories again I feel so restless rn

[vexic929]

"Family Night" activities that Eoland has gotten kicked out of:

Yoga Class (threatened the instructor) Dinner at a fancy restaurant (almost killed the waiter) Pride Parade (broke the hot butch who was flirting with her's arm) Laser Tag (tried to kill a child) Paint Your Own Pottery (Used "the blood of her enemies" to paint) Video Games (murdered the guy who called her a noob in the Call of Duty group chat) Video Games, pt 2 (somehow got on multiplayer mode and burned down everyone's houses in Minecraft) Camping (burned down the forest) Movie Night (killed the people who talked during the movie)

lol Siv and Berrie are gonna have to get creative for family nights XD can't take Eoland anywhere, even Minecraft (I feel like she'd like The Sims though if nothing else than for all the fun creative ways to murder her Sims lol)