#these are based on the most common patterns i see in fics

[capinejghafa]

Another post-canon question:

[bigskydreaming]

Imagine if you were a gay or bi man who tried a certain firefighter show because of all the attention it was getting for one of its mains having a later in life bi awakening.....and between seasons you ventured into its fandom in search of material to tide you over til the next one. And you're greeted by a deluge of posts and fics that are just cheerfully homophobic towards one half of the newly out bi character's canon relationship on the basis of 'well he's not the RIGHT gay guy' and pushing the idea that actually its fine to cheat on him because Reasons and he's sexually predacious based on......behind the scenes implications people have divined like they're reading fucking tea leaves.

But don't get it twisted....this fandom, like all fandoms, really cares about representation!

Sorry not sorry, but we really need to kill this idea that fandoms are welcoming and inviting and inherently progressive when they're frequently insular and reductive as fuck. Every single fandom I've been in has had major trends of people doubling down on their own headcanons and fanon interpretations of the characters and willfully enacting trends aimed at running off people who like the 'wrong' characters (usually characters marginalized along one or multiple axes), like the characters in the 'wrong ways' or other bullshit.

Scott is a Bad Friend fics overtaking Teen Wolf fandom was not incidental, it was a FEATURE of the fandom, because the vast majority of that fandom did not want to share its space with anyone who had the nerve to like its main character. Survivors complaining about or criticizing the prevalance of rape fics in a certain fandom has in my experience always led to a reactionary UPTICK in those fics, with gems like 'this character can, will, must be raped' in the tags making it crystal clear that some of these fics exist because how fucking DARE anyone try and push forth a narrative not agreed upon by Fandom Main.

I could cite examples for so many other fandoms, with the commonalities always being that vast majorities in these fandoms are explicitly reacting defensively to being asked to be more mindful of fandom trends revolving around or exacerbating racism, homophobia, transphobia, rape or abuse apologia, ableism, etc....

With the most prolific fucking rallying cry across countless fandoms being "No the fuck we will NOT be doing that," because lolololol.....

Fandom is an inherently progressive space, didn't you hear?

[obaex]

pinch me - jj maybank

summary: when you turn 17, your body begins to mirror anything that happens to your soulmate, but with so many marks and bruises, why is yours so hard to find?

word count: 2.9k

a/n: happy obx writing week! this is for day 1: au with jj! thank you to the lovely @surftrips for planning this event. this fic's a little different, but i am simply a sucker for a soulmate au. italics are jj's perspective. ♡

The flowers bloomed on your skin like a tattoo, delicate but dark. Large roses, orchids, lilies and daffodils tangled with leaves to form a winding pattern that started on your hand before appearing on your arm. You lifted your shirt to see them swirl on your ribs, near your stomach. It was mesmerizing to watch, beautiful, hypnotizing even, the sensation felt like a pleasant tingle beneath your skin that now danced on your cheek, around your eye. You lay down on your bed, closed your eyes, and willed the patterns to disappear by morning.

You knew when you turned 17 that this could happen, that your body would begin to mirror any impact on your soulmate’s skin, so you weren’t necessarily surprised. What did surprise you was the frequency with which the marks appeared, their breadth, their size. Your chest ached with the knowledge that whoever your heart was tethered to underwent physical pain on a regular basis.

You searched for your other half eagerly, knowing they wouldn’t be hard to find: a split lip, a black eye, bruised knuckles, but of course there was no one that looked like that on Figure 8. Your friends sought out their matches based on the occasional skinned knee, maybe a broken finger playing lacrosse; when they asked you about it, you lied and said you hadn’t felt anything yet, too heartbroken to share the truth and the fact that your person was nowhere to be found.

When your best friend Sarah Cameron found her match, you couldn’t help but be happy for her, even though she had found him on the wrong side of the island. She and John B began spending every day together; you were lucky if you could steal her away for an afternoon at the beach, and even then, she spent every moment gushing about him. Before long she was begging you to come hang out with him and his friends. You were undeniably skeptical, but by now your own flowered marks had stopped appearing and even though you knew that was a good thing for your other half, in a way you missed them, missed the connection, the reminder that someone out there was meant for you. You needed something to distract you, and John B and his friends proved to be the perfect distraction, especially JJ Maybank.

You and JJ fell into an immediate friendship that was unlike any you’d had before. Frankly, it shocked the other pogues – what could a marina rat and a kook princess possibly have in common? On the surface, the answer was nothing, but it’s like you just clicked right from the first day you met. You were always laughing at each other’s jokes, tears brimming your eyes, unable to catch your breath no matter how stupid they seemed to everyone else. You would finish each other’s sentences, you could read into each other’s emotions, able to understand one another when words fell short, ready with a hug or a smile when they needed it most. You had a casual intimacy, your head resting on his shoulder when you watched a movie, him always needing to have the seat next to you whether in the twinkie or in the back yard at the chateau, you permanently wearing at least one article of his clothing at any given time. You were having fun, your time with JJ distracting you from the loneliness you had felt before.

Everyone had become so obsessed with this soulmate thing - JJ didn’t think it was even real. He had never felt a thing, grateful at least that that meant his soulmate had a life very different from his own. But, why did people care so much? He had seen and heard John B go on and on about it, but all he wanted to do was ignore it, convinced that that kind of thing just wasn’t meant for someone like him.

He never knew if his parents had had it, and even if they did, what good had it done them? His mom left and his dad was gone now too, having finally taken off for the Yucatan months ago. Good riddance.   

No, JJ preferred to focus on what he could control, to believe what was right in from of him, and for now that was Y/N. He wasn’t sure what a girl like that was doing hanging around with a pogue like him, but he wasn’t going to question it, grateful for every day he got to spend with her. He loved the way she made him feel, like he was always the center of her attention no matter what was going on around them - he’d never had that before, had never been someone’s first priority. He loved the way she would laugh uncontrollably with him, how big her smile got, how her nose would crinkle. He loved the way she curled into his arms when she had a bad day, seeking him out for comfort and reassurance; he loved knowing he could be that for somebody. He loved when she leaned on him when they watched movies, how sometimes her eyelids fluttered closed and she’d breath heavily against him, wrapping her arms around him in her sleepy state – that was his favorite.

The funny thing was, she didn’t seem to believe in this soulmate thing either, never chiming in when the inevitable conversation came up. And that made him feel like maybe he had a chance. He tried every day to muster the courage, to find the right words to say to ask her out, which is where his mind wandered while he spent the afternoon at work at the marina, pissed that he was missing a day on the boat with her.

The HMS Pogue bobbed gently to the rhythm of the waves as John B and Pope cast their rods into the water. You, Sarah and Kie were lying on the bow, soaking in the scorching rays of the sun as sweat dripped down your body.

“OK, I’m getting in the water, it’s too damn hot” Kie said resolutely, standing up.

“Yes please” you said, jumping up, pulling off your sunglasses and diving in, beating her to the punch.

The salt water cooled your skin immediately, bringing instant relief. You let out a sigh as your head breached the surface and you began to float on your back. It was only a moment before you felt something slimy and looked around you to see you had jumped right into a school of jellyfish. You tried to swim away, shrieking, before they began to sting you, their barbed tentacles attaching to your side as you tried to knock them away and scrambled back to the boat. You pulled yourself shakily out of the water, tenderly feeling the burns on your skin as tears overflowed in your eyes.

JJ was spraying down the latest kook yacht to pull into the marina, washing and rinsing mindlessly, his thoughts drifting to you and back again when he felt an itch on his side. He scratched it absentmindedly, attempting to ignore it when it persisted in a tingling feeling. He rubbed it harder before finally lifting his shirt to see a tattooed pattern of vines winding up his side. He shoved his shirt down and looked around, hoping nobody had seen. He dropped the hose in his hand and stumbled inside before he pulled his shirt off to inspect his skin more closely. He was mesmerized by the sensation and the pattern on his skin, his heart racing with excitement until he realized what this meant, his joy waning as his sympathy grew for this person he didn’t even know. He pressed his hand against the vines, like he could make them stop, but they persisted. He could hear his boss yelling for him, so he quickly pulled his shirt back on, his head spinning as he went back to work.

The rest of the afternoon and evening you walked around gingerly, icing your side, putting ointment on it, but nothing seemed to quell the burning sensation of the barbs in your skin. You pulled on one of JJ’s soft, oversized sweatshirts and a pair of shorts and joined your friends in John B’s backyard, trying to focus on anything else to forget the pain you were in.

Thankfully, JJ showed up right after his shift. You had missed him all day, wishing he had been out on the boat with you; he would have known just what to say, how to make you laugh, exactly how to make you feel better, and that’s all you wanted right now.

He settled into his chair beside you, but didn’t meet your gaze, didn’t acknowledge you at all; he looked a thousand miles away.

“Hey, you okay?” you asked, picking up on his demeanor immediately.

“Hmm?” he said, glancing at you quickly before looking away. In truth, he couldn’t stop thinking about the tingling on his side, which had started to fade, but that he could still feel. He looked back at you, examining you. You were perfectly fine. No one had hurt you, you weren’t in pain, and he was overwhelmingly grateful for that, but at the same time, selfishly, he knew that that meant that you weren’t his, weren’t the one for him and it crushed him.

He looked at you with sad eyes, his ocean blues scanning yours, opened his mouth like he wanted to say something before shutting it, shaking his head and ignoring you, choosing to focus on the beer in his hand instead.

You scrunched your face in response, hurt by his dismissal, especially after the day you'd had. You had been so sure he would make you feel better, that he would pull you into his arms and tell you everything was going to be okay, and now he wouldn’t even talk to you.

“Okay then” you said, standing up quickly, wanting to put some distance between you before your emotions got the best of you. “Anyone need another drink?” you asked as you made your way inside. John B shook his near-empty can in the air and you nodded, turning quickly so no one would see the tears in your eyes as you slammed the door behind you.

“What was that about?” John B said as he looked over at JJ.

JJ just shook his head and shrugged, trying to shake off your reaction, his feelings, and failing miserably.

“She seemed upset” Kie pushed, not used to seeing the two of you at odds with each other, ever. “You could at least try to be nice to her, Jayj, she had a shitty day.”

“Pfft understatement of the year” Pope agreed as he took a swig of his beer, “she put up a tough front but I’ve never seen stings that bad before, had to be the man-o-wars, she jumped right into them.”

JJ’s ears perked up. “What?” he asked, trying to catch up.

“She got stung, asshole, like fifteen times” Kie replied, gesturing to her side.

The same side where JJ’s skin still tingled.

JJ’s mouth ran dry and he could feel his heart start to hammer in his chest. It couldn’t be… could it?

He stood up, dropped his beer at his feet and ran after you.

“Y/N!!” he called as soon as he was inside, nearly tripping over the furniture on his way to reach you in the kitchen.

You were leaning with your back against the counter, your eyes meeting his as you wiped at your tears, not wanting him to know how upset he’d made you.

“You’re – Pope said – you – today ���“ he stumbled over his words as he gestured outside and then to you.

You looked at him, utterly confused.

He shook his head, trying to clear it as he ran his hands through his hair, willing his heart to slow down just enough for him to get his words out.

“Today. You got stung. A-Are you okay?” he said through labored breath.

You shrugged, still angry with him. “I’m fine” you said.

“Nah, don’t do that, don’t play it off, Pope said it was bad, worst that he’s seen in a long time. C-Can I see?” he asked.

You didn’t know what good it would do at this point but you set your drink down and tenderly reached for the bottom of your sweatshirt, lifting it up to expose the angry red skin on your side, wincing slightly as your fingers grazed it.

JJ stepped closer to you, one hand on your stomach, the other on your hip, careful to avoid touching your wounds as he looked closely at it, then at you. He felt his breath hitch as his emotions overwhelmed him at the thought of this happening to you. You immediately registered the sympathy in his eyes and the fact that he seemed completely distraught, his own eyes nearly brimming with tears.

“Hey, I’m alright, it’s alright, J” you said, not fully grasping the look in his eyes.

He took his hands away, but didn’t step back from you as he lifted his own shirt. You could make out the faint remains of a twisted pattern of vines that ran up his side. Your hands flew to your mouth in shock.

“JJ…” you cautioned. Despite how much you desperately wanted this to be true, you both knew that this could be a coincidence, that that happened all the time. Your eyes met his and you could see the longing shining in them as they met yours, unwavering.

“Pinch me” he said, holding out his arm.

“What?” you asked.

“Pinch me, hard, do it,” he said again, pushing his arm closer to you.

Part of you wanted to know the truth, needed to know the truth, but a larger part of you was scared, horrified for this be a coincidence, and what that would mean for both of you. The idea that JJ might not be yours had your chin wobbling as you looked at him.

“Please, gorgeous, I need to know” he said, his voice a hoarse whisper.

You reached out tentatively and pinched the skin on his forearm hard enough to leave a pink mark where your fingers had squeezed. Within seconds you could feel the tingle on your own skin, your emotions bubbling up as you laughed and then cried, JJ grabbing you by the shoulders, desperately trying to read your emotions as you pulled up your sleeve to reveal the rose that had bloomed on your own arm, matching his own. He looked down as tears welled in his own eyes.

“D-Do it again” he said, now that he could see it, holding out his arm.

“JJ” you said through your tears, urging him to accept what was in front of him.

“Do it again” he said, and as you pinched him a daisy bloomed next to the rose, leaves tangling together. He watched the pattern, willing himself to accept that this was much more than a coincidence, to accept that he could have this, have you, that you were made for him.

He pulled you into his arms, burying his head in your shoulder as you shook, your arms circling him and hands grasping the back of his shirt like a lifeline, unwilling to let him go.

“My God, oh my God” he muttered next to you as he rocked you back and forth.

“W-wait” you said, pulling back reluctantly to look at him. His eyes were blown wide, totally focused on you.

“What is it, beautiful?” he asked and your heart skipped a beat at the nickname.

Your hand came up to cup his face. “Last year” you whispered, tracing your finger under his eye, across his cheek, running it over his lips, tracing all the places you seen flowers on your own skin. He hung his head, pressing his forehead to yours.

“My dad” he said simply in reply as he realized, reluctantly, that you now knew better than anyone what he had been through.

“I’m so sorry” you whispered.

“It’s okay. I’m okay now” he reassured you as his hands reached up to cup your face. “You have nothing to apologize for.”

You nodded as your eyes met his, your mind still reeling, trying to piece together what was in front of you: this boy, with his long hair, his tender eyes, his perfect smile, his infectious laugh, his warm hugs was it, was yours, forever. You smiled at him and he smiled at you as his mind pieced together the same thing.

“How did I get so lucky?” he asked and you laughed in response. “I wanted it to be you. From the moment I met you, I wanted this” he said. You nodded vigorously in agreement, your instant connection so many months ago making so much sense now.

“Can I kiss you?” he asked quietly.

You nodded more vigorously as he brought your lips to his.

He wanted nothing more than to lose himself in you, but was reassured by the fact that he’d have eternity to do so as he pressed his lips softly to yours, savoring the feeling, and the way you pressed into him, opening up to him almost immediately, grasping his shirt and pulling him against you, against the counter as you hummed in response, your pain long forgotten as the pleasure of his body, his heart beating against your own took over. He ran his fingers into your hair as his tongue tangled with yours and he swore nothing in the world would ever compare to this.

taglist: @ietss, @gillybear17, @palmwinemami, @sweetestdesire, @softcoremaybank, @one-sweet-gubler, @m-indkiller

[bloodiedrogue]

MY LOVE IS MINE, ALL MINE (15)

SUMMARY: Astarion insists that you rest.

PAIRING: Astarion & Female Reader

WORD COUNT: 2,987

WARNINGS: Brief mentions of death and dissociation, a whole lot of fluff and comfort as an apology for all the angsty chapters. :^)

AUTHOR'S NOTE: Ha-ha, hey do people still care about this fic? (Sorry I went MIA, my brain got bad)

CHAPTER LIST / MASTERLIST

-

It feels odd having Astarion around.

For days, his hands are almost always attached to you in some way. Gripping tightly onto your arm as he guides you out of the bed, drawing patterns into your back each night he quietly lays next to you —anything to make you feel like he’s some sort of extension of you. As if he’s another set of limbs there to help you heal. 

It’s nice, at first. Comforting. And for a while, as you exhaustively lay amongst the sheets and pillows, tucked against the side of his torso, it helps you forget about the world around you. How just beyond this realm of soft looks and tender touches, there’s a war raging on, developing day by day as you tirelessly drift from bed to bath and back again, trying your best not to get too restless.

Which is easier some days than others. 

For example, the first few felt like a breeze. Nothing more than a collection of hours that quickly whizzed by before you could even blink. With Astarion there to distract you, time seemed to slip from your grasp entirely. Exiting your mind in the form of lengthy naps spent latched onto your partner’s frame. 

It was blissful. A much needed break from all the chaos but it was obvious it wouldn’t last. Nothing more than a blip in an otherwise more momentous event, you could feel the restlessness of the future seeping in. Taking hold of your mind, ripping through the cavernous well of missing information that occurred during your death. You couldn’t help but wonder what had happened. How the group managed without you —how Astarion managed.

Based on the lack of space given during the healing process, you assume badly. Considering he’s never touched you like this —like you’re the most fragile thing he’s ever placed his hands on as if at any moment one wrongful slip of his fingers might shatter you all over again— it’s apparent something within him changed. Shifting in a way that, even now, nearly a week later his presence is still stagnant.  

And for the most part, it is nice. A welcomed change amongst all the bullshit. Having him there with you —seeing the lengths he’s willing to go to make sure that you’re safe is unparalleled to anything you’ve ever felt. A dream within a plague of nightmares lulling you to sleep each night he holds you close, telling you that everything’s fine. At least, until it isn’t. Then it feels like suffocation. Like his once-loving hands are now wrapped around your throat, reminding you of what little time you have left. Forcing you to realize that, instead of lying around living in ignorance of the task at hand, you should be helping —working alongside the rest of the party to complete your common goal. 

“I need to move, Astarion,” you tell him. Almost angrily, you press your hands to either side of his face, narrowing your eyes, watching the way he rolls his own and frowns.

“Zamrie said—“

“Oh, my Gods, forget what Zamrie said!” Before he can even protest you’re on your feet and moving towards the door, ignoring the way he huffs in response. Blocking out the sounds of his angered protests as you begin to pull on your boots. “I swear, if I don’t get out of this room I’m going to go insane!”

Surprisingly, he doesn’t do anything other than try to talk you out of it. Relaying each point of criticism with facts to back up his claims, watching the way your face twists in annoyance the longer you realize he’s right. 

Because despite mentally feeling alright aside from the lack of stimulus, you’re still exhausted. A feeling you hadn’t anticipated to take so long to recover from. Assuming you were under the hindrance of any other common illness, you figured you’d be back to normal in a few days tops. No longer feeling numb or shaky. But then again, you were dead. And for a while too, so unfortunately it makes sense as to why as you finish tying your first boot you’re already out of breath. Heavily panting against the warm air of the inn’s top floor as you glance to see Astarion’s smug look. 

“You know I’m right,” he says, and all you do is awkwardly walk back to the bed with your boot still on, collapsing face-first into the mattress with a groan. 

“I’m so bored.”

“And what do you want me to do about it?” 

In response, you merely grumble, feeling him roll you over so that he can untie the laces of your shoe, kneeling at the edge of the bed for better access as you let out a huff, unsure what to say.

Because really, there aren’t very many options left. Already you’ve read every book your party has and then some thanks to Gale and his lengthy trip to Sorcerer’s Sundries, as well as exhausted all your conversation topics. At this point, there’s nothing left but card games and sleeping and Astarion frequently cheats which leaves you with the most boring option. The one you’d rather suffer through the pain of activity than submit to, prompting you to look at Astarion with pleading eyes, praying that just this once he’ll give in. 

“Don’t look at me like that.” 

You narrow your eyes and wiggle your foot as he eventually discards your boot, quickly moving to kick his face in annoyance only to have him catch it before you make contact.

“If you don’t stop I’ll cast hold person on you,” he threatens then, moving to grip your knee and pull you towards the edge of the bed. Smirking at the sound of you squealing in amusement at the sudden shift in position. 

“You’d like that wouldn’t you?” you tease, but all he does is slowly maneuver himself above you, slotting his hips between your already spread legs. Ignoring the way your face contorts to showcase the sudden nerves that erupt. 

“I would because then you’d actually rest.” 

“But I am resting.” 

“Hm, are you?”

“I’m laying down aren’t I?”

“That’s different than resting, my love.” 

“Is it?”

Somehow he’s managed to distract you with conversation long enough for you not to notice he’s looming above you. Pressing his palms against the spaces next to your head —shifting the lower half of his body to lightly press against your own. 

Upon noticing this, you swallow hard and try not to smile. Forcing down the anxiety of Astarion’s mischievous gaze exploring your features —taking in the obvious temptation that’s begun to surface. 

“You don’t seem very tired,” he tells you. Teasing you in a way that has you rolling your eyes, allowing it to happen because, while you’ve exhausted a lot of options to entertain yourself, sex isn’t one of them. Considering the two of you have been too busy reuniting and making sure everything about your resurrection continued to go smoothly, the thought really hadn’t occurred to either of you. 

Far too lost in the simple touches of each other’s company, up until now it felt more important just to coexist. To relax and monitor rather than jump into something that could only result in complications. 

Which is a thought that sits at the back of your mind. Even as he leans down, nudging your nose with his —saying something flirtatious that you completely miss due to the passing thoughts that stroll through your head— you can’t help but wonder if it’s a good idea.

“Are you sure we—“

He cuts you off with a gentle kiss. One that lingers for a couple of seconds before it’s over and he’s grinning above you, moving to glide his thumb along your cheek. “We don’t have to if you don’t want to.“

“No, I just —is it right?” 

He scrunches up his face, looking at you in confusion. Making you realize how offensive your words probably sound. “Sorry, I don’t mean it like that.”

“Then how did you mean it?”

You take a minute to put together your thoughts, ignoring the way he longs for your answer. Feeling him shift slightly backwards in anticipation of your inevitable rejection. 

“Is this the right time to be doing this?”

He raises his brow and sort of laughs. “Do you mean that morally or?”

“Kind of?”

“Kind of?”

All you do is scoff in embarrassment, moving your hands to cover your face. “I just mean that… should we be having sex while the others are doing all the work?” 

Astarion really laughs at that, his voice practically rising a full octave as he swats away your hands, watching your annoyance only increase at his actions. “Seriously? That’s what you’re concerned about?”

“I feel like it’s a valid concern.” 

“Well, it’s not.” 

“Okay but I think—” 

He steals another kiss, ignoring the groan of protest that hits his lips. Opting to instead grab your cheek again, gliding his fingers against your skin. Feeling the way you almost immediately settle into his touch the moment he pulls away. 

“Darling, you and I both know the other’s don’t give a shit what we do. So long as it’s somewhat legal and doesn’t disturb their sleep.” 

Moving your hands to his torso, you practically sigh in defeat, pinching his hips with frustrated fingers as you lean up and kiss his chin. “I don’t know. I think Gale might be jealous if he comes back and sees us.”

As you fall back down he chases you instantly, enveloping your mouth in his a third time, knowing then that you’re surrendering. That instead of fighting the urge to make excuses, you’re allowing yourself to enjoy what he’s offering. To experience that connection without the added baggage of not knowing whether or not there’s feelings involved. 

Because now that you’ve admitted it —now that both of you have said those three little words, it feels completely different. After travelling and talking and experiencing that unfortunate blip of separation there’s a whole other dynamic that takes place.

For example, somehow his touch is gentler. And not because of your current physical setbacks. No, there’s something tender about it. As if the care he has for you has extended from his heart to his palms, guiding them in ways that make your chest tighten with newfound anticipation. Against your flesh, his fingers are delicately placed, slipping to grip the back of your neck, sprawling out to cover as much surface area as possible. 

Sighing into him, your thoughts wander to different positions. Imagining all of the ways the two of you might end up, you can feel your stomach twist with excitement. Your mouth curling up into an empty-minded smile, unaware of the joy that radiates between you. Too distracted by the happy sound he makes when you grip the waistline of his pants. 

“Does this serve as a good enough distraction for your boredom?” 

You hum and kiss him, eventually pulling back to nod. “Only if it’s okay.” 

For a moment he pauses, his expression turning from playful to serious. His eyes softening at the weight of your words, realizing that you mean it. That for once in his life he’s in control of his own pleasure. 

“I promise you, I wouldn’t offer if it wasn’t,” he eventually tells you, and all you do is beam. Moving your hands to his face, you look at him with affectionate pride, running your thumbs along the highpoint of his cheeks —pressing down as you pull him back to rest his forehead against yours.

“I love you so much,” you say, closing your eyes, hearing him softly hum in a way that rips the air right out of your lungs. Feeling the way he stiffens before he ultimately melts beneath your touch, allowing the full weight of his body to press against yours. 

“You mean the world to me,” he responds, moving to kiss your cheek before moving to the other before you open your eyes again to see him hovering above. “When I lost you I—“

You don’t interrupt him. Instead, you just press your lips together and offer a nod, watching his mind work through the blockage. 

“Losing you felt like losing hope. Like I was being shoved back into that blasted mausoleum all over again.” He pauses to swallow, watching you stare into his eyes, refusing to break the contact even though it’s obvious he wants to. “I don’t want to feel like that ever again. I can’t —I won’t.” 

Your hands move towards his shoulders, slowly weaving their way around his neck to pull him close. To let him feel the pounding heart inside your chest and how its pace quickens because of him.

“I know it may seem like I’m ungrateful a lot of the time —that I’m brash or unkind but don’t think for a second I take for granted what you feel for me.” His lips press against yours for a second before they’re separate again. “I love you and I won’t let anything more happen to you.”

As soon as he finishes you can’t help but pull him against your chest, placing a kiss to the crown of his head before resting your chin on top of it. “Mm, you really have a way with words don’t you?”

All he does is chuckle. “I would hope so after all the mindless chatter I’ve done over the last two centuries.”

“I’m sure you’ve swept your fair share of feet with that beautiful voice of yours.” 

He cranes his neck to look up at you. “My voice is pretty beautiful, isn’t it?”

“It’s like music to my ears, darling,” you tell him, partially mocking him as he scoffs in response and reaches for the nearest pillow to smother your already giggling face.

 “Don’t mock me.” 

Awkwardly moving to shove the pillow aside, you feel him shift against you as he sits up, grabbing both of your wrists and pinning them above your head. “Actually, you know what, I take back what I said —I actually hate you.”

“No you don’t.” 

You scrunch up your face in fake annoyance as he leans down again, giving you a chastising look. “I do. So much so that I don’t want to have sex with you anymore.”

“Oh, really?”

While nodding your head, you try your best to get him to release your wrists but to no avail, eventually sighing in response. “Yeah, I’d rather take a bath instead, I think. Get you to wash my hair or something.”

Without even protesting he just kisses your nose and rises from the bed, readying the bath. Taking it upon himself to focus on the task at hand rather than your lingering eyes staring at his dishevelled hair and the way his clothes have shifted out of place thanks to your roaming hands. Something that shouldn’t annoy you but does as you crave his attention. Finding yourself wanting desperately to keep him connected any way you can. 

Because despite knowing he’s here with you, sometimes he isn’t. Instead, sometimes he’s lost in far-off lands, travelling by himself in fear, trying desperately to get back. Behind his eyes, you can always tell when he’s absent because his eyes sort of shift out of focus, dismissing whatever’s directly in front of him in favour of relieving whatever awful memory’s been triggered. 

It breaks your heart. Ultimately spurring you to stand and move behind, wrapping your arms around him as he finishes up the bath. 

“C’mon, get it before it gets cold.” 

Despite wanting to playfully protest, you listen. Taking a reluctant step back while releasing his frame, you slowly begin to peel off your clothes, feeling his fingertips reach for your stomach as you throw your tunic over your head.

“Can I help you?” 

Looking down at his hand, you see his fingers draw patterns into your flesh. How they practically dance their way down to your waist before his other hand slips to the buttons of your trousers. 

“Other way around.”

You look at him, confused, prompting him to laugh. 

“Figured you could use a hand with these.” He tugs the button through the hole with one quick swipe, causing you to bite back a smirk and roll your eyes, allowing him to slowly drag the fabric down your legs. Watching as he moves to his knees along with it. 

Once there, he motions for you to step out of each pant leg, discarding the fabric entirely. Grinning up at you once you’re left only in your underwear. 

“Gods, you’re…” He doesn’t finish. Instead, he just kisses the inner portion of your thigh as he plays with the edge of the fabric, looking up at you with pleading eyes. The kind that you merely nod at, suddenly feeling nervous.

Because it’s been a while since he’s seen you like this. And even so, it continues to feel different. More intimate somehow as he moves at a leisurely pace, kissing your skin while exposing your sex. As it happens, you have to look away and take a breath, feeling everything shift past your thighs and knees, eventually moving to your calves and feet before there’s nothing against you. No fabric or hands or lips —only the suffocating air of the inn hitting your bare skin, forcing you to uncomfortably squirm as you look down. 

“Beautiful,” he mutters, and suddenly it feels like your heart is bursting against your chest, watching as he leans forward to pepper a few kisses along your upper legs, reaching for the scars that line your stomach —ignoring the way they twitch beneath his fingertips as he traces over them. “How about we get you into the tub before the water gets cold, hm?”

Almost nervously you nod, feeling him grip your hips for support as he moves to stand before guiding you into the tub without another word. 

-

TAGLIST:

@poohxlove @gaiasmight @sassy-stupid @novarex @v-gremlin @sapphiccloud @lipstickghoulie @kuroitsukyo @jjfchk @idiotsatan @bluestuesday @bloopthebat @art-by-greenie @heneralmoon @sukunababe @dreamingaboutyousworld @ranfithegood @haniscrying @liadamerondjarin @the-lake-is-calling @marina-and-the-memes @rookieoftheyear @zraloci-cpr @kaetmo @snickerdoodle-daydream @wowowwild @d1anna @raswiet @conniesbbymama @venus-wrts @demonicthorns @kihten @sanscas @spammypasta @leighsartworks216 @rose-gold-blue @p1ssmagg0t @hellish-writes @ghostinvenus @otayz @sexysquatch @sleepyeclair @colorful-anxieties @alina-exe @lillifer @girlwiththepapatattoo @acelin-ginsberg @pinkuranium @catrad0rable @scarletrosesposts @qwnamidala @itsrosebabe @bunnyperi @queenofcarrotflowers-s @tatumadams20 @spkyxszn @chlort @f3v3rs @awkwardwookie @joy-the-reader @warm-milk-with-honey-blog @vertigocrime @iyis @wildpiper @pebblethestone @tillywasneverhere @bex-03 @revemiya @staticspouse @itzagothamcitysiren

(taglist continued in reblogs)

[rooksamoris]

i have one more request to get to, but i started working on a leona fic about the shuka, a traditional piece of dress common with the maasai people of kenya and tanzania. the shuka is a patterned cloth that one is to wrap around their body, and it is common the color red, which symbolizes strength and courage, and it is the clothing common among the warriors of the maasai people, who have been famous for their prowess for centuries. the maasai people speak maa which is in the nilotic language family group. my personal headcanon is of leona speaking swahili, which is a bantu language, but that's just because of my bias since im more familiar with swahili. similar to scarabia, savannaclaw could be based on anything since all we really know about the lion king is that it is most likely in east africa which is home to many countries with many languages and ethnic groups. leona could be maasai or he could be from one of the bantu groups. anyways!!

the shuka is known to be worn by the warriors of the group, who are also famous for being able to kill lions, despite the animal's strength and the threat they pose. they say that the bright red color can scare lions away once they see it. my fic is basically yuu wearing it in an attempt to scare leona and leona calling them stupid (its more than that i swear) <3

[faeriekit]

Health and Hybrids (VII)👽👻💚

[I can't remember the original prompt posters  for the life of me but here's a mashup between a cryptid!Danny, presumed-alien!Danny, dp x dc, and whatever prompt made the one body horror meat grinder fic.]

PART ONE is here PART TWOis here PART THREEis here PART FOUR is here and PART FIVE is here PART SIX is here and this is lucky number seven baby 💚 Ao3 Is here for all parts

Where we last left off... Martian Manhunter did a Whoopsie. Things are better than they were though, so...success? YJ got in trouble with Batman but Danny wasn't exactly cognizant enough to notice so that got relegated to the tags.

Trigger warnings for this story:  body horror | gore | post-dissection fic | dehumanization (probably) |  my awful attempts at following DC canon. On with the show.

💚👻👽👻💚

The debriefing team meets J’onn in a meeting room not too far from the cafeteria. By the time he makes it to the correct floor, the team has clearly been waiting on him; on the table are a pack of Chocco cookies, a large order of fries, and a ten pack of chicken nuggets. 

J’onn inclines his head. It’s nice to see that his favorite meal is remembered. “Thank you, Batman.” 

Batman’s nod is equally as formal. The human is already most of the way through his italian sub. “No thanks needed. Were you successful in your contact with the entity?” 

Ah. Right to the details, then. J’onn obliges the question with a seat at the table. Black Canary, a chair to his right, gently scoots over to provide him more space. 

In the end, J’onn is relieved to have a prop in his hands. It creates a small, if flimsy barrier between himself and the images the boy had shown him. 

What he knows now…

J’onn sighs. 

The room is peaceful— likely intentionally so, in order to ease the oncoming conversation. Wonder Woman and Black Canary sit beside each other, their individual meals open and half-eaten between them. As the facilitator of the conversation, Batman sits at the end of the table; as the secretary of the meeting, Superman sits beside him, his sloppy joe in one hand and a keyboard beneath the other. 

J’onn quietly tears open the packaging of his pack of cookies. Plucks one from its plastic insert inside. Chews. Swallows.

“The first thing to note is that although the entity's primary language is not known to me, he is extremely familiar with humans— and, likely, with Earth.” 

Superman swallows the rest of his sandwich in one gulp, nods, and begins to type. Batman turns to face J’onn directly. “How so?” 

“He has many memories of flying freely in Earth’s atmosphere, specifically; the stars line up with the star patterns as viewed from this planet. He is intimately familiar with several aspects of Earth’s culture, including the idea of ‘a bedroom’, which he identified as his own, and a childhood toy, which was a scale model of an Earth spacecraft. If I was shown a variety of options, I could likely pick out which craft specifically. He has a mind for detail.”

Superman’s fingers flick rapid-fire over the keyboard. J’onn happens to be aware of the Krytponian’s career, as the local telepath, but rarely is the man's passion so clearly shown; the focus and quick hands certainly project an air of professionalism around an otherwise at-ease debriefing room.

“You’re using he/him,” the Kryptonian observes, making additional notes in the margins of the in-progress report. “How did that come about?”

“He does have an understanding of the most common gender identities of Earth, and has a favored one. How he came about it…” J’onn inhales. It is a very human gesture. “…I do not know his origins for certain, but I have several theories.”

Batman cuts off an oncoming question from Superman with a silent wave of his hand. “Base information first. Questions and theoreticals at the end.”

Superman’s face at the hindering of his professional instincts is perhaps less than completely mature. “Yes, yes.”

J’onn takes a second cookie.

It’s easy to report on certain things; the entity's initial inability to communicate without acute pain, the subsequent reaction of the teenage team, the eventual discovery of clear communication and transference of emotion.

“Not all of his thoughts were particularly clear.” J’onn nibbles on the edge of his cookie. Black Canary pushes aside her empty tray of California rolls to give her pen and notepad space. This portion of the debrief necessitates more of her skills. “Most of the memories that he aimed to show me were value-neutral, or otherwise unrelated memories, likely due to the stress of his current and deeply traumatic situation. He preferred memories that did not have pain or distress associated with them. When prompted—I displayed my own perspective of the crash we had found him in— the associated memories that were brought up implied that not only was he the pilot of the craft, but that he had a hand in building it.”

Superman’s rhythmic tapping undercuts the soft conversation. “So he is sapient, then, despite the difficulties in communication,” Wonder Woman confirms softly.

“More than. There are echoes of formalized schooling and other instruction in his mind, although I couldn’t discern the topics of the lessons.”

“Were there other beings like him? Anyone we could reach out to? Family members, friends…?”

J’onn hesitates. There’s no way to confirm what he saw. However…

“…There are memories that he has of his own person, in which he looks very human. His self-conceptualization is of an adolescent human boy.”

The grief in the room is palpable. J’onn doesn’t have to look up to feel it press in on him from all sides.

“I suspect that…in the same way that Superman has largely spent his life on Earth, this boy has at least spent several years on Earth as well. There are glosses of memories of an adapted human house, though I was unable to safely explore how far back they went. There are humans who prominently play a role in his self-image and expected worldview, although the mental representations of them have scarred over with some form of psychological trauma. Overall, despite his current form, there was likely a time this child felt safe around both humans and human scientists.” 

Silence rules over the room. 

“...Do we know what changed that?” Black Canary asks, without looking up from her notes. Her pencil eraser taps quietly against the table. 

J’onn sets the package of cookies to the side. “Not…so exactly. There were hints of memories threaded throughout the recalled moments that he did not wish to pin down. Claustrophobia. Fear of incarceration. The fear of physical harm done to him— and the psychological harm of knowing with exact certainty that there were those willing to hurt him. …Intimate betrayal.” 

Superman and Black Canary’s eyes quietly close. Batman looks hardly moved under his cowl; if J’onn could not feel the man’s stress spike in the air, he might not have ever known how worried the human was. 

J’onn isn’t actually meant to know Superman’s circumstances as to his arrival on planet Earth, but there are equally few ways that any of the league can hide the entirety of their thoughts from him— especially at the time of his initial arrival into the League, when mental defenses had yet to be erected in a comprehensive manner. This situation smacks strongly of the story of Clark Kent, son of his human parents. 

“There is no way to confirm my guess without further conversation on the topic. However, it is incredibly likely that he lived under the radar, on Earth, for a lengthy enough span of time to acclimate to human society. The discovery of his non-human biology would have spurred further action, and the result would have given reason for his fear of medical professionals, scientists, and adult humans. Likely, the other humans in his memories meant to support him, and were prevented from doing so or injured in the process. The vehicle that had crashed back to Earth would have served as—”

“—An escape route,” several voices overlap together. 

J’onn nods. His fingers steeple together. “There is no way to know how far into space he had gotten, or if his escape was aided by others of his species, or even if the point of origin was in low atmosphere or Earth's orbit. Either way, our patient is alone now, is in extreme background pain, has lost perception in several of his senses that exclude taste, and has reluctantly bonded with the junior team due to a lack of more familiar presences.”

Batman’s emotional presence circles into a silent exhale of frustration. “That would be Impulse’s under-the table operation,” the human correctly identifies, dry as the desert. 

(J’onn is certain that the vigilante will never reveal it, even to himself, but the exhale has its own quiet, microscopic tinge of reluctant amusement.)

“I don’t think it qualifies as under-the-table if you have a running file on his activities, dated and timed by every individual interaction,” Superman points out, not even bothering to glance at the now-slightly-peeved Batman. 

“Hn.”

“Oh, very mature.” 

“It was not league sanctioned.”

“Neither are the majority of your movements,” Wonder Woman points out. The fork from her salad punctuates her sentence with a tease and a wave. “If you informed us your security plans for the Watchtower any earlier than a week after you had already installed the new measures, I would assume you were an imposter and prepare for battle.”

Batman hardly looks put out. He achieves deception with his whole body. J’onn genuinely admires how discordant his behavior and churning thoughts can be. 

“Hn.”

 “Oh, very well-spoken,” Black Canary flatters insincerely, toying with her pencil against her paper. 

It would be very immature of Batman to sulk. Therefore, he does not. 

“Returning to the point of this meeting… Are there any other pertinent details we ought to know?” 

J’onn considers shrugging. He packs three chocco cookies into his mouth instead, chews, and swallows. There are only two cookies left in the pack, now. 

“The biological mechanism utilized for his empathic sense is vibrationally-based. That would be why my initial attempt at communication failed so tremendously; if he does have a neurological center, it is too deeply damaged to interpret telepathic input. He has a fondness for astronomy, can recognize the color red with greatest ease, and likely needs high contrast if we would like him to recognize any materials we provide. He imprinted on Impulse likely because the boy’s presence in the Speedforce mimics the energy readings he expects to see in those of his species.” 

Superman hums. His fingers fly. “So he must have met others of his species before.” 

J’onn makes a so-so motion. “There is no way to be certain. His abilities may be instinctually pre-programmed, or he may have had access to outside materials to teach him.” 

Batman’s arms cross. His sandwich, which had been sitting on the table, is now entirely vanished— wrapper and all. “Was there any evidence as to either particular theory you were able to pick up on?”

“...No.” Hadn’t he indicated such?

“Was there any personal information you were able to pick up on?” 

J’onn has to think about that one. The topic hadn’t come up during their mental exchange, when so much more of the focus had been on creating basic understanding of the Watchtower, his presence within their base as a patient and not as a prisoner, and his current location on the moon. Anything else that J’onn might have gleaned would have to be determined on supposition and analysis. 

“...He enjoys astronomy.” J’onn tries to recall the exact memories he had seen, and only ends up reiterating what he has already said. Perhaps highlighting certain moments will make the narrative clearer. “His childhood dwelling had little stickers on his ceiling. They would stay lit even when the room went dark—”

“...Glow in the dark stars,” Superman whispers under his breath. J’onn exhales. This isn’t a familiar point of human culture for him. He’s glad his description is recognizable. 

“Yes. He organized them to mimic Earth's constellations. He had smaller, handheld versions of rocket ships. Even if he had not known of extraterrestrial origins, he was drawn to the cosmos.” 

Batman coughs. The gesture is a reflex to suppress some welling emotion. J’onn pretends that it works. “Both items are…markers of a young child,” Batman admits. “Indications of a quite young, very human childhood.” 

Ah. J’onn can more deeply recognize the sense of tragedy welling in the air. The items are astronomy-based yes, but they equally highlight his age. 

“When he donned a human appearance, he matched the coloration of the human family who took him in. As fleeting as their acquaintance might have been, he modeled his human form after them— solidly enough and surely enough that, if he feels strong enough to form a mental self-representation, I can see the outline of it in his memories.” No details, beyond vague hints in the entity's mind of his hair and her eyes and their skin.

“Very loved,” Wonder Woman murmurs. 

“Very young, and very loved,” Black Canary reiterates with a sigh. Her notes are a black mess of graphite. “And now he fears adult humans.” 

“Yes,” J’onn admits. The cookies are gone. He sets the wrapper to the side. He reaches for the chicken nuggets. “That said, he has an instinctual familiarity with black and with red hair, will likely experience less fear with a female profile as opposed to a male, and responded favorably when offered the chance to interact with an adult who did not mean him harm. The fact that we have largely indestructible adults at our disposal works to our advantage.”

It is very, very clear who exactly fills that description. Wonder Woman sits up straight, laces her fingers together, and very kindly curtails her smugness. If Superman and Batman would like to be jealous of her current position, they may do so at their own discretion.

[krchar]

Introducing: My Basiliadean Headcanons II

Ok... this is part II of my overthinking... (part I) it is so long, it is only for the strong with the brainrot

I gave some issues too much thought when writing my fics

5. Basiliade and romantic love This is quite an issue, when you dive into Basiliade for the ships lol.. so I thought about it damn lot So.. we see Orube is surprised at the huge role of romantic love in the lives of Earthlings.

We also know that Basiliade, at least in elite classes, is quite a strict society based on firm hierarchies, not very prone to attachment – as is seen in the memory of Orube's father (the guy is hot tho)

although the society might clearly favour other kinds of attachment and love – like that between master and apprentice (and Orube is also surprised the girls seem to put love before friendship sometimes). It is possible that romantic love is just not as important in the society - even on Earth it had a lesser role at times, than the extreme one it has now in the Western media. It can also be looked down upon, as drawing a person from more important spheres of life. When I wrote H/Y, I presumed their relationship would be secret - I joked on everyone actually having an inkling in the Garden, cause I thought the reality of such society is always different than the ideal - but generally I kept love as something you are not open about. Of course, H/Y are two males, so it might have appeared as an issue of homophobia - as it is common to presume homophobic tendencies for any made up world. My reasons for their secrecy and restraint were actually more complex, but I regrettably might not have made it very clear - although I have some, eh, WIPs mentioning hetero relations of warriors as problematic, too. Still, to add some self-reflection, I suppose including the secrecy might’ve felt natural to me, because I have the homophobic trope internalized like most people. But my reasons were 1) The society viewed as strict, non-individualistic and focusing on other spheres. Basiliade comes from the comics’s orientalistic tropes, so I think it is based on these classic patterns emphasized in Western portrayal of the Far East. Still, I keep thinking of a 17th century Chinese play that I have seen years ago, a story of two lovers divided by dramatic events and seeking each other - then meeting with all the drama, then a monk tells them their love means nothing - and they realize she is right and stop feeling the love. As a then ca. 15 yo European, I was shocked. Still I felt like - oh, yeah, the Far East, classic - bc I am a Westerner, like the authors of the comics. 2) Warrior lifestyle - I see masters as an icon of the strict society - they live for a task and they subordinate their personal desires to it. Note e.g. the hints of Orube's difficult and humbling training, her painful parting from her family, which refuses to acknowledge her pain, Yarr's self-diminishing after an apparent mistake etc. I mean, there's this:

but I think this refers to a bit of a different level - keeping your values, your identity, but not being self-centered. In a fic I also followed Orube's unfamiliarity with love and made Yarr a bit confused about his crush, although now I think that at his age (ca. 39 then), he might have had a better idea... but I also made it specific to his warrior life, that he is just not used to love, although he does know it from theatre - cause I think it might have a role, but it is problematic, unofficial, left for art, fringe culture, stories of old times and not the present. And definitely not for the daily life of masters. 3) For masters also the rank must play a role - and this could be extended to class in the general society. Strong hierarchies commonly build great barriers between people. Specifically H & Y in my story are divided by several years in duty, but much more by those two cursed years of them being master and apprentice, which, apparently, might connect and divide you at once, for life. Even in canon, it is interesting, how Y. keeps the custom of respect, when they meet, even though by now he may just as well have a rank much higher than H had, when he had left. Y. keeps this mostly formally, while they seem to speak quite equally at times, but it is there. H. was once his superior, and so he is forever. I hc that, generally, in such society, love over the borders of class would not be favoured, and for masters difference of rank would make the situation even more problematic, than it already is.

Still this all is based on the orientalistic trope - it is not impossible that some masters were quite unhinged and nobody cared.. or that, as I mentioned, the society had a certain facade, but inside everything was very different - I think I was using the latter idea mostly

Well but... these were my thoughts.. yours?

[miscfandomgifimagines]

Random Lyle HCs

These are purely selfish sfw headcanons of my favorite blue boy. I’m not personally really familiar with the Avatar lore so I’m just going off my own imagination on some stuff. Also not sure how I want to go about my smut hc/fic for him so I’m stalling by writing this lol. I’m hoping to have some free time later this week to sit down and write some more, but I can’t make any promises. I’m really torn because all of my writing so far is done with my human oc as the base of my headcanons and I’m not sure if people would read my stuff if I used my oc and not reader inserts. Let me know if you have a preference one way or the other, maybe it’ll help me figure out what to do.

* Lyle is the type of person who would carry around a picture of someone close to him wherever he goes. The specific picture of you that he carries around? It’s a mirror selfie where you and Lyle are standing in front of the mirror flexing your biceps with a huge grin on both of your faces. Every time he looks at the picture he feels comforted. I don’t feel like the other recoms would make fun of pictures like this because everyone has someone special in their life that they would want by their side during rough moments.

* I feel like Lyle would be the type of person who wouldn’t mind reading, maybe not college textbooks or romance novels. But magazines about cars, fitness, guns, or anything similar? Loves them and reading them is one of his favorite low-energy hobbies.

* Lyle actually thinks most of Pandora’s wildlife is pretty cool. Back on Earth a lot of animals had died out so there really wasn’t anything aside from the occasional house pets. (*Not super familiar with the lore of Avatar’s Earth so idk if this is even accurate but just roll with it*) Obviously has a very healthy fear of most of the things crawling around in the jungle but every time he sees a cool lizard or even those monkeys he always stares for a bit. His favorite animal on Pandora? Ikran, his specifically. He thinks they are dope as hell and loves how vibrant the patterns are. Flying is just an added bonus.

* Still dedicated to his mission but finds his mind wandering about other possibilities such as what would happen if they fail again. He’s weirded out by being in an Avatar body the way it is now and the idea that all his memories are on a data stick in someone’s lab somewhere makes him uneasy. He doesn’t want to die but has the sinking feeling that the RDA would keep bringing everyone back as many times as it would take to finish business so to speak.

* Not one to believe in happy endings, especially after everything he’s been through but that doesn’t mean it wouldn’t be a nice change. Your presence through the readjustment period was a godsend and he’s crossing his fingers that you’ll get to keep in touch even as the mission progresses. Sometimes in the morning, he’ll just stare at you in the kitchen while you make yourself breakfast almost like if he moved his eyes from your frame you would disappear. When you catch him staring you make fun of him a little bit. “I’m not going to share if you keep staring like that.” Or “Why don’t you make yourself useful and start washing some of the dishes if you’re just going to sit there ogling.”

* Doesn’t like sharing even with the other recoms, but he makes an exception for Z-Dog simply because she’s the only one he trusts not to break his stuff. Quaritch is usually a no too surprisingly unless it’s necessary for the mission or to maintain a decent relationship. Gets kind of possessive over his stuff just because he hates when people take his stuff and don’t put it back.

* Lyle likes to listen to music when he’s at home base during his downtime. Whether that’s just by himself in his room, out in the common quarters with the gang, or in the science loft with you while you play your own music. I feel like he’d be the type to like mainly rock music personally, but he doesn’t make too much of a fuss about what other people are playing as long as it’s disrupting the quiet. I could totally see him branching out to metal music when he’s in the gym cuz it hypes him up.

* He’s surprisingly decent at braiding his own hair but insists that you do it when he gets out of the shower. He’ll sit on the floor crisscrossed in front of the couch and nestles between your legs, enjoying the warmth that comes from your skin. Sometimes after a stressful day, you spend a little bit of time massaging the back of his neck and the area around his queue gently and he just about melts every time. Also loves it when you sing to him while you comb and braid his hair.

* Sometimes if he doesn’t want your bonding session to end he’ll purposely make it harder for you by moving or swiveling his head around (to your annoyance). “Seriously, sit still! You are such a toddler. You want your shit fixed or what?” You smack him on the side of his head and he lets out a snort. “I thought we agreed to no hitting outside of the bedroom?” You let out a huff and tug his queue a bit. “I never agreed to that, especially not with how annoying you can be.”

* Hates going up into the science loft since the ceilings are shorter than the main level and he smacks his head into the lights and stuff but does it anyway to spend time with you. He’s a pretty selfish person and prefers to have his time with you be just the two of you. He’ll sit on the floor next to your desk and make small talk with you while you work on your projects. When he thinks you’ve been sitting for too long he makes you get up and go down to the kitchen where he’ll make you a snack and have you do some stretching.

* After a long day of you at your desk he loves to go into your room and stretch out (as best he can) on your bed. You like to complain that he messes up your pillows but you really don’t mind it. Lyle likes to pull you onto the bed with him and squishes you against his chest. When it’s just the two of you he doesn’t bother holding back his purrs because he knows you like them, but in front of the group he does his best to quiet it. You’ll usually stay cuddled up together until it’s dinner time or someone calls for him.

* I also think Avatars have scent glands just like normal kitties so when he rubs up against your belongings like your bed or your clothes he’s literally marking you as yours. As a “scientist,” you already knew about this, but you were a bit surprised to catch Lyle marking up the stuff in your room. He was a bit embarrassed when you caught him the first time, but continues to do it to the annoyance of the other recoms.

* I feel like Lyle wouldn’t mind cooking because it’s a necessary life skill to have and he’s pretty good at it. Hunting on Pandora would be a breeze for him. The fresh meat coupled with the veggies growing from your aquaponics would make a damn good meal. I feel like there are also a lot of weird recipes he follows, kinda like what broke college kids/ prison inmates would do (Ramen noodle burritos anybody?). Loves being able to “provide” for you which sounds silly but is always happy to cook for you, especially when you’re busy doing other things.

* Keeps his belongings and room pretty tidy. He’s not one to leave his stuff lying out which makes rooming with him preferable to the others, as you tend to trip on their stuff when they drop it all over the shack. Lyle catches wind of your annoyance and starts shoving stuff into the recom’s rooms so you have a clean living space to walk through.

* Likes helping you out in the gardens, whether it’s the native Pandoran patch outside the shack or the Earth one inside the outbuilding. You and your friend grow a variety of food found on Earth since you were still learning how to adapt to the foods on this planet. You head out each afternoon to check the crops and scribble notes down about the progress and Lyle likes to sneak strawberries when he thinks you aren’t looking.

* Lyle likes to make himself useful however he can whether that’s doing the heavy lifting, reaching for high objects, or fixing stuff around the shack. Does chores without being told to which was a pleasant surprise when you caught him outside fixing the rainwater basin. Loves helping out even more when you reward him with kisses and praise afterward even if he gets teased for kissing ass from the others.

* Hates when he has to leave for extended periods of time as he’s always worried about your safety out in the wilds. He knows he can’t get out of it so he does what he can to prepare you. “Okay so don’t go outside after dark, if you have to you both leave. One of you needs a gun and keep your-“ “Head on a swivel for any hostiles.” You give a small smile and grab his hand. “I know you’re worried, but we’re gonna be okay. You on the other hand need to promise me you’re going to come back. In one piece.” He squeezes your small hand and does his best to look sincere. “I’m always going to come back to you, no matter what happens.”

[himbos-hotline]

hi!! hihi I just wanted to say i commented on your fic yesterday too but you’ve fully rotted my brain with kenny as a did system (from one system to another, it’s hard to find good plural hcs for characters :/) so if you wanted to share any hcs or anything here that’d be so cool!!! :3

OKay okay so like!! I am also filled with brainrot

And when I tell yolu that I am totally right about kenny omega having DiD I mean I am competely right! For those that don't know what DiD is it stands for dissoctive identity disorder [formally known as MPD or mutiple personality disorder] affects about 1.5% of the population and its an trauma disorder formed during the early childhood stage [between 2-7 years old.] It is regularly caused by any cause of severe trauma [sexual/emotional/physical ect] combinded with the obvious stress that going through that stuff causes. Extreme childhood trauma causes the brain to fracture before the child can gain and/or form a connected sense of self being, this disconnect continues and every part of distinct "personality" becomes more and more disconnected and dissociated and slowly start to form their own existence and behaviour, thus becoming "parts" or "alters" or "headmates" that exist to protect the child as they grow and go through trauma rather than the child going through said trauma alone.

MPD was renamed DID in 1994 since it is a dissociative disorder [as well as a posttraumatic stress disorder] instead of a personality disorder. DID is often catagorised/explained as

(image description: A screenshot from a website that reads:"it is a disorder characterized by the presence of two or more identities or personality states that recurrently take control of the individual's behavior accompanied by an inability to remember important personal information … it is a disorder characterized by identity fragmentation rather than a proliferation of separate personalities")

Alters can take different forms, introjects [alters based on media- yes this can also mean real people], non human alters [things like animals, based on objects, demons and angels - this is common in DID systems since a lot of us that I have interacted with have religious trauma /told we were possessed]. anything really. Alters normally form for a job [for example, Hangman in our system is a caretaker, meaning they exist to take care of the body/headspace. Kenny in our system is a companion, which means he exists to be a friend] Switching [mostly involentary changing from alter to alter] can cause amnesia and theres three types of dissocitive anmenia:

Localized: meaning you cannot remember specific events, times, places

Selective: you can't details/events of a specific timeframe

Generalized: This is the least common type. You can’t remember anything about your identity and life history.

So how is it diagnosed and how does it relate to one Kenneth Omega? well looking at the DSM-5:

Two or more distinct identities or personality states are present, each with its own relatively enduring pattern of perceiving, relating to, and thinking about the environment and self.

This is probably the most strongest bit of evidence with Kenny having DID. Theres him; Kenny omega. the bright blue eyed, blond haired, dorky smile kenny who sings tina turner and drinks from bottles weirdly and wears onesies. The kenny we see during the early BTE, the days in DDT, vaguely around the same time with his early tagteam with Hangman. You know Kenny omega! we LOVE kenny omega!

And then we have the cleaner. That dark, evil hurtful one who doesnt care about anyone or anything just winning. that heartless, cold man who wears Kennys skin like a cloak. The first real time we see the cleaner [at least, in my opinion. and since this is my headcanon, my opinion is law /lh j] is just after Kota moves up to the heavyweight devision, leaving Kenny alone. He instantly turns into that coldhearted, empty soulless almsot killing machine whose so addicted to winning because thats the only thing that shows that he exists. With his black dyed curls and dark sunglasses and wild eyes. Theres, no Kenny omega left. Only the cleaner. Goofey in a way thats soulless, kind in a way thats manipultive.

If you need any proof that Kenny fucking LOOSES it before him and Kota reuinite. Just look at his eyes after he betrays AJ styles to become the leader of bullet club because theyre totally normal [lying through my teeth]

Also just this moment right after the formation of the elite, Kenny being the first one to drop the two sweet, almost like somethings just switch off in his body, the half open eyes. The twisted smile that looks almost like hes in pain? yeah...

Amnesia must occur, defined as gaps in the recall of everyday events, important personal information, and/or traumatic events.

There isnt much like,. spoken about evidence about this at least what I can recall off the top of my head. Theres a few little bits where Kenny doesn't seem to recognise or remember bits about himself, his friends. The moment that I can remember off the top of my head, that makes me feel a little insane. If when Kenny and Hangman get their first wrestling figures. Kenny asks if Hangers figure has his "baby blues" to which Hanger replies "my eyes are green." Sure it could just be a little slip of his tongue, Kenny wrapped up too much in the excitement of having hi8s own little figure. But him and Hangman have known each other for *years* at this point. Wouldnt kenny remember something as trivial as hangmans eye colour? especially when hes right in front of him.

The person must be distressed by the disorder or have trouble functioning in one or more major life areas because of the disorder.

*agressively gestures at kenny omega* you think tha man functions?!

okay thats a little mean, and painfully honest. But I could go more deeper into this and I might because I do in fact, have problems when it comes to thinking about Kenny Omega. But theres two places where Kenny fails at existing and functioning. And thats his own health and relationships. We all know about his fucked up relationship with Kota Ibushi, its documented in enough essays and video essays and enough fanfic to not only sink a battleship but to also keep me awake at night. But the one I really wanna focus on because [suprise suprise, the hangkenny shipper wants to focus on hangkenny] i think its the biggest showing of his inability of function with relationships is his one with Hangman page:

Its..rocky to say the best, lowkey controlling at worse. and neither of them are really to blame. Kenny is struggling with the constant fighting between Hangman and the Bucks. Especially in this video [big thanks to @jacedoe Mars ily so much!!] Where the bucks are fighting over him with hangman and Kenny is litearlly being pulled from pillar to post. Not sure who to go to, much like a child dragged from parent to parent in a divorce. And you see him go from, midly tired and aching to upset and unable to control his emotions but at the same time so emotionally shut down that he just walks away after hugging the bucks.

Kennys relationships, romantic or otherwise shift and change so quickly that its almost like, he doesnt want to be loved, doesnt get it and thats exactly what it is, I personally think Kenny doesnt understand what love IS. He doesnt know what its really meant to feel like, like deep down hes never sure what it is. Hes never had it as a child.

AKA growing up with Don Callis, he mentions in his promo during all in that Don made him only focus on hockey, never having a birthday party/never being allowed to keep friends. that sounds like phycological/mental abuse to me. It sounds like mental abuse because it is. One of the most common malipulation practices for mental abuse is seperating people from anyone who can help them or see that its wrong. Now look at just how many times the Bucks have tried to show Kenny that Don is a peice of shit or that Jericho is only using kenny for his own uses before Kenny can be thrown away.

Callis also constantly putting Kenny down is also a sign of mental abuse. The half jokes when he smiles and pats Kenny on the shoulders afterwards why he just sits there...tell me thats not abuse.

The biggest, showing of the fact that Kenny went through abuse because of Don is the "vitimans." an uncessary and more then likely uncomfortable and invasive procedure on a child while Kenny hopes that itll bring him a little scrap of love? Its all a part of dons plan to keep kenny in the public eye but ulimately his.

what im saying is Kenny omega growing up with don callis, suffered horiffic mental and physical abuse [weve seen him hit Takeshita, so kenny would be no different] and thats impacted his ability to form and make relationships.

The disturbance is not part of normal cultural or religious practices.

I have nothing for this point, not knowing Kenny yknow. personally.

The symptoms cannot be due to the direct physiological effects of a substance (such as blackouts or chaotic behavior during alcohol intoxication) or a general medical condition (such as complex partial seizures).

Kenny doesnt drink or suffer from any blackouts as far as we know nothing worse than vertigo. again this is only that we know so like, I could be wrong

also just, this tweet from Kota, because who knows kenneth better than his golden lover?

[disclaimer: this is only distinctly talking about kayfabe. This headcanon isnt law and its all for fun, please dont send me hate asks.]

[oluka]

tagged by @soliloquent-stark, thank you!

rules: list the first line(s) of your last 10 (or however many you have) posted fics and see if there’s a pattern!

In order of most recent to least recent:

The One That Got Away

Natasha’s out of her chair before Steve can fully register that her blood vial came back green.

Leaves Me Wanting More

“You’re compromised,” Romanoff tells him one day.

All's Fair...in Love and War

Tony’s wrist deep in the model Nil’s chestplate, trying to replace a fused wiring, when someone knocks at the door.

Whole Lotta Love

The ride home from the Sanctum Sanctorum was silent.

(Un)Fortunate Circumstances

Steve knew something was wrong before he even opened his eyes.

The house on fifth

It was only a matter of time, really, before Steve ended up here, staring up at the dark façade of the Stark Mansion.

lover, leave me alone and bury the ruins

It’s been five years, two months, thirteen days and nine hours since Steve killed Tony.

The Engineer

“Honey-bear, Rhodey, Rhodes, James, platypus, peanut-butter to my jam, are you sure you-“

Affliction of the Feeling

Tony took a swallow of his scotch, waiting.

Good Dragon

Tony and Steve are sitting on the couch in one of the common room of the Avengers Mountain, taking a much-needed break.

Do I notice any trends? Not sure. About half my fics are in present tense, and half in past tense. My first sentences are almost always descriptive, with the rare dialogue opening. I seem to like my commas, haha. I now realize that this was first line(s) and not first sentences, but oh well. Most of my sentences start in medias res, and in the middle of the action, too. I like to think it makes the reader interested in knowing more. I hope so.

I think a fun game to do in relation to this one is to have people try to guess what the fic is about based on just the title and first line/sentence.

I'm tagging @starvels, @dirigibleplumbing, @the-faultofdaedalus, @thahiree, @nostalgicatsea, @earliebirb, @tinystark616

[aashiyancha]

Random ass fic question!

I love all the nitty gritty details that don't necessarily make it into a story, so I'm wondering if you have any particular headcanons and rules for how magic works in the Rune Factory universe when you're doing your rf5 comics?

Oh yes, superb question! Let's talk about the magic system!!!

So in my head, the magic system in the rune factory universe is very systematic and follows researched rules that people have to follow in order for a spell to successfully be performed.

In this world there are runes everywhere. They are entities that exist not entirely in the same plane as everyone else, but can still influence conditions and events that occur in the world. People are aware of their presence and have learned ways to study the rune activity/establish common patterns.

Once those patterns have been established, next they learned that by meeting certain conditions, those patterns can be mimicked via the use of spell casting. If you say X things in the correct way, Y things will happen. So, people conduct experiments and learn spells that make the runes do very specific things. It's very structured and runes will only do exactly what the spell was discovered to do and only when conducted perfectly.

So, spell books are published and people can learn how to cast magic this way. However, the effectiveness of a spell is influenced by a person's affinity to the element of a spell they are casting. Hence elemental levelling up. People tend to have inherent elemental affinities, but this can also be trained through exposure (spending more time near the element for example)

So those are 2 things people have to practice in order to be able to successfully cast a spell: the enchantment and their affinity.

People are limited with how much spell casting they can do based on the amount of rune energy their body is able to store. This is not something that can be trained (at least within the confines of the human lifespan) so at the very least, human characters are a bit limited in their ability to use magic.

Most people tend to learn a couple of simple spells that match their inherent affinity simply out of exposure but for the most part, spell casting is commonly done only by people with high runic stores (Earthmates are a good example of this)

And speaking of Earthmates, now's a good time to segway to one of our outlier Earthmates: Ares.

If Ares was born earlier in the the rune factory universe, I wouldn't consider him much of an outlier. However during the present time of rune factory 5, society has been becoming more modernized post fall of Sechs Empire. A lot of people have been losing touch with the runes and can't see them anymore. With that, magic has become more structured and industrialized than ever.

(I based this off of the fact that runey days were a thing in rf4 that didn't carry over into rf5; On especially energy filled days, townsfolk of rf4 would talk about seeing runeys but none of the townsfolk ever talk about seeing runeys in 5 so I decided that means people can't see them anymore)

Unlike most people in present time, Ares can still see the runes and is very in touch with the energy circulating around him. Because of that, he can actively listen to what the runes are saying to him. If he can clearly imagine what he wants to have happen happening, he can copy the flow of the runic energy around him to make that imagining a reality.

So rather than using structured spells, Ares can essentially create a unique spell for every situation he is in and get very specific results.

This is the biggest difference between his spell casting abilities and Alice's. Being Earthmates, they both have a practically unlimited supply of runes and can keep casting without much need to replenish, but Alice isn't able to see the runes so she has to follow instructions from a spell book to make a spell work. Ares can create new spells on the spot that are perfectly specific to the exact situation he is in and can rarely be used anywhere else.

I would put our 2 dragon sisters in this category too. While Livia hasn't demonstrated much magic use, if she did I would assume she would do so in a very similar way to Ares. Radea's strategy is just scream her runes at people so if she had any other goal other than to hurt people with her magic, it would probably manifest like this as well.

Lastly, Lucas. Because he is considered a god in the story I basically give him carte blanche. He can kinda just do whatever he wants in the story and rules that aren't his own don't apply to him.

Thanks for this question! I've been meaning to get around to talking about the magic system and this gave me the perfect opportunity to get started! Hope this lore dump made sense XD

[importantdestinydefendor]

I have a random Firelight AU question for you, if you don't mind! Maybe it will be come up in future chapters so feel free not to spoil if you want to save it for then, but: what do the Parsians think when they see Azar's horse Zaal? I assume spots are common to this Maaren type of horse, but presumably not so often seen in Pars (it may be present in the genepool but none of the horses we've seen in the manga have that leopard spotting pattern).

Parsians are an equestrian people so I have no doubt they'd be checking out other people's mounts, especially a mysterious delegate from another nation. Actually, I'm getting sidetracked now but I also wonder what the general Parsian opinion about Maar is?

(I'm definitely curious to know what Daryun thinks about Zaal but I'm sure your fic will give us his thoughts on the matter at some point, lol. Let's hope Zaal and Shabrang get along well!)

Okay, I actually have not thought about this at all, so thank you for being my brain and asking this questions!

Zaal was, if I remember what I said about him correctly, mostly bred for heavy farming. And since he is in a rather mountany terrain, he has a lot more muscle and fat to keep him warm in the colder climate. His breed was already on the island when the Maarer came over from Mayram (that is also where their name came from and their "main-god"). And because the breed found in the mountains is very strong and resiliant, they were chosen for the heavier load of farming. They are usually not used for riding.

Theyr fur pattern came to be so that the horses were not as visable to preditors when heavy snowfall acurse or they had to hide in not dangerous snow drifts (at least for the horses mostly in the mountains, the ones in the more flat terrain obviously evolved a little differently). And Zaal is suppose to be completelly white - but I couldn't find pictures actual full white Noriker horses (that is the in reality breed i based Zaal on.)

The Maarer usually use more slim horses or those bred for speed and agillity for travelling and - most importantly - the militery. Some were already on the island in the grasslands (the area between the more "beachy" terrain and the mountains) others they brough with them from Maryam.

As for the Parsians, they don't really see the other types of breeds Maar has besides the ones the merchants and military uses - so similar to theirs. The only difference is that Maaren horses are generally more on the sturdier side due to the big differences in climate and terrain in their habitat.

Also, on what they think about Maar as a whole, the normal parsian citizen thinks of this really tiny kingdom that someday just popped up and is rising amonst the internatonal traders. Since it is still rather young as a kingdom, there is not much known about it. Only that they are very welcoming to everyone, allow every religion and belief and - how outlandish - have no actual slave system (this information is not as well known amongst the normal folk, more amongst nobelity and merchants.)

And their wine is very good as are their metals. Since those are their maingoods. That they also use magic is seen as just a rumor to explain how they are so good at defending themselfs and are so quick to arrive everywhere.

Now to Daryun. Since Vahriz has told him a little bit more about Maar due to his personal connection, he knows that Zaals breed is mostly used for agriculture and other heavy things. So he probably does a little double take when offically meeting Azar (I don't count Azars first introdaction as "their first meeting" since they don't actually talk or properly interact with each other). Maybe he will even ask her about it someday!

I have yet to think about such little scenes and Azars actual reason as to why she chose Zaal as her mount lol. Feel free to give me ideas! Chuck them at me!

I hope this answered your questions!

[voxofthevoid]

Hi! I've been a long time reader of your works and we have like 3 fandoms in common (jjk, yuri on ice, mcu) which is the Dream for an average fic reader like me. Thank you for putting all these out to see. I love the way you write, it really pulls me in no matter the genre. Your mind is amazing.

On to the questions:

1.I kind of want to start writing myself, do you any advice for a beginner?

2.On average, for how long are you into fandoms? How much time does it take for the brainrot to take root in your mind?

3.What kind of media do you usually enjoy?

I hope I didn't bother you. Please stay healthy and safe!

That's delightful on my end too! Love seeing cross-fandom readers. And thanks so much ❤️

1. The advice I have is mostly social and technical. In terms of the writing itself, all the reading you do is likely to give you an idea of what you want to write and how to go about it, and practice will refine the process.

Given the fandoms you've listed, you're likely already familiar with how rancid fandom spaces can get. This depends on your disposition, but being braced to deal with shitheads is important, whether that comes in the form of puriteens or entitled assholes without a brain-to-fingers filter. This is mostly a case of "do as I say, not as I do" because *gestures* you know what my online presence is like, but I'd recommend the following:

(a) Make an account just for writing that's entirely divorced from any and all IRL information or even previous fandom shenanigans. It reduces chances of people digging through your history and other such demented things.

(b) Block liberally and, failing that, be enough of a dick that people will think twice about picking a fight—the more accommodating you are, the more these fuckers will act like sharks scenting blood. There's a reason I stopped accepting tag requests, slapped CNTW on everything, and generally adopted a "my way or the highway" stance toward everything I post. The alternative isn't worth it. YMMV, of course.

(c) Write whatever you want however you want, and don't show an ounce of shame or guilt. Even if you feel it, don't show it. Fake it till you make it. Like above, it's safer than the alternative.

The technical advice is to get a copy of the Chicago Manual of Style; there's an online version, a paper version, and also good old pirating. It may look intimidating, but it's got a beautifully indexed list of damn near every grammar and punctuation element (and a lot of other stuff). I started using it for work, and while I'm way more lax with my own writing than I am with editing, the CMOS still did wonders for my general understanding of the technical side of creative writing.

2. It varies based on a bunch of factors, but my usual pattern is to spend several months just reading while the obsession grows stronger and stronger, to the point I start getting ideas. And we know what happens when I get ideas 🤣. I generally don't stay in a fandom for more than a year. But there are exceptions! I was in the MCU for some three years. I started writing for JJK less than a month after watching it (though this is mostly because I couldn't find much to read—not because fics were low in number but because I was and am extremely picky), and I'm rapidly approaching my 1.5-year mark.

3. A mix of things, but so far, fantasy is the most common theme across various media. I enjoy most subgenres of it too.

And absolutely no bother! I had fun answering, though I may have gone overboard with #1. I feel a little protective of new writers these days because I keep seeing so much vile shit happening online.

[blackjackkent]

Questions!

How do you choose which POV to write from?

What fic do you wish you got more of a response on?

Have you noticed any patterns in your fics? Words/expressions that appear a lot, themes, common settings, etc?

What’s your favorite part about the fanfiction writing process?

You’ve posted a fic anonymously. How would someone be able to guess that you’d written it?

(Get to know your fic writer)

How do you choose which POV to write from?

It's very rarely a conscious decision, to be honest. I'll just start writing a particular idea and it usually naturally falls into a particular character's POV.

The one notable exception to this so far has been We Who Have Faced Gods; I wrote the opening 500 words or so of that fic multiple times from Hector's POV, Karlach's, AND Jaheira's, before eventually circling back around to Hector's again. XD The opening of that fic gave me fits.

What fic do you wish you got more of a response on?

I tend to write a lot of platonic stuff and I've noticed that anything that doesn't have a romance tag tends to get a LOT less attention, which is I suppose understandable but still kind of a bummer. Fault Lines is probably top of my list of things that I wish more people would run across; it's gotten a very good response from my friends who are reading it ( <3 ) but has otherwise not really made much of a noise in its landing.

This is, more or less, to be expected - Jaheira and Nine-Fingers aren't a high-throughput pairing, I think, and most people who ARE thinking about them are shipping them romantically. XD I do think I'm doing some interesting things with it and am proud of it though. :3

Have you noticed any patterns in your fics? Words/expressions that appear a lot, themes, common settings, etc?

My beta reader for Fault Lines called me out hard on Ch2 for using the word "grins" something like 16 times in it. XD We chopped most of them out, but that is definitely one of my go-to words that crops up a lot.

Overall - I think I tend to focus a lot on missing scenes and interstitial stuff, canon compliant but exploring the things we don't directly see that are implied by the canon material. The ships I write are often focused on one or more parties involved not having a fricking clue what they're doing. XD

What’s your favorite part about the fanfiction writing process?

I've talked about this before, but there's often a point partway through writing any particular piece where everything suddenly crystallizes and I go "Oh, that's what this is about." XD Usually up to that point I've had a vague idea that I'm just sort of poking at to see what comes out, which can be a fairly arduous process sometimes, so it's always a huge relief and very satisfying to see the pieces come together and make a series of words into a story.

This feeling is most pronounced when writing short one-shots and ficlets but I definitely notice it in the longer stuff too.

(One example that springs immediately to mind: this Shadowzel ficlet, which started out as kind of me aimlessly playing with the character voices right up until the point Shadowheart asked "D'you think he'd rather be called something else?" and then the whole shape of the ficlet clicked into view at once and it felt very nice. :D )

You’ve posted a fic anonymously. How would someone be able to guess that you’d written it?

Based on the combination of Jaheira/Rasaad and the Hectorverse, it seems like you could definitely look for the presence of an emotionally reserved and romantically inexperienced monk. XD

More seriously... I think someone could probably make a decent guess at a fic being by me based on the emphasis on dialogue and character voice. I think I do have a somewhat distinct narration voice too although I'm not exactly sure how I'd define it.

The presence of Karlach or Jaheira is a strong clue. The presence of both at once is a VERY strong clue.

...Also if the fic is Jaheira/Rasaad it's DEFINITELY me because I am apparently the only person on AO3 who has ever considered the pairing. XD

[devilswalkingstick]

Hope you are having a good day! If you have time, I would love your opinion on something- are there any common pitfalls you see in people writing characters with canes, or details you'd like to see more of? A character in a fic series I write uses a cane after a bad head injury that has resulted in nerve damage and motor control problems, so needs a cane or mobility aid most days. Whilst I know there must be a lot of variation amongst cane users as to how they incorporate canes into their lives, anything you think might be worth knowing to improve writing him would be wonderful!

Also, the character is a smith and absolutely forges/makes his own canes, so if you could have a cane that looked or is shaped like *anything*, what would it be?

hi hi! thanks for the question!

hmmm a big one when writing a cane user would be don't make it their Whole Character. they should be a character who also just uses a cane. don't make their disability their entire personality but still show how it affects their life (both in the use of the cane and also showing their other symptoms beyond that). also disabled characters who are just pity parties aren't fun to read for me as a disabled person.

for just casual little things, if u prop ur cane against something (especially like. a table) then it WILL fall over. this will happen and no matter how u prop it, the cane will clatter on the ground at a comedically timed moment. but also for fun uses, using my cane to drag something closer when I'm sat down and something is just out of reach! (or, bc I'm short, pulling something forward on a shelf out of my reach 😂)

also, personally, i pick out canes based on color/pattern (after first concluding it's a useable cane ofc but that seems obvious) and i personalize them as well! if he's a smith then how does ur character personalize his canes when he makes them? or does he just make them useable and not think abt it beyond that? does he have multiple canes? just a single good ol trustworthy one? what kind of handle does he prefer? does he attach a wrist strap? (all valid but it's all some things u should consider!)

also! not cane specific so not what ur asking abt but how do his motor control problems affect his smithing? my chronic illness affects my fine motor skills and causes intense muscle spasms, both of which affect my every day life. just mentioning things to keep in mind!

as for the last part of ur question, i would kill for a functional, comfortable dragon handle cane. dragon handle canes definitely exist! it's the function and comfort that's hard to find. would be great if it didn't cost an arm and a leg too lmao

my inbox and dms are always open for any other questions!

[thebroccolination]

TEN OPENING LINES FROM MY TEN MOST RECENT FICS AND WHAT THEY HAVE IN COMMON

Rules: List the first line of the last ten (10) stories you published. Look to see any patterns you notice yourself, and see if anyone else notices any.

The only thing I knew going in is that they’d all start kind of in medias res because that’s what I like reading. But I noticed something else after I compiled them all! Something really interesting that I’ll have to play with from now on.

Heart Like Gold [Be My Favorite, SOTUS, Between Us] Kawi x Pisaeng, Kongphob x Arthit, Win x Team

Kawi and Arthit are twins! WinTeam stalk a guy and fall in love about it!

Kawi’s theatrics would affect the weather.

Behold! The shortest! Followed immediately by:

quietly uncovering everything [SOTUS] Kongphob x Arthit

Anxiety and rope bondage and KongArt!

It’s fair to say that Kongphob might’ve lived his entire life under certain assumptions about sex and mental health that he passively absorbed from media or word-of-mouth if it hadn’t been for one conversation with a classmate while he studied abroad in Beijing.

The longest by far.

Gatekeeping Kawi [Be My Favorite] Kawi x Pisaeng

Pisaeng goalie-blocks Kawi’s terrible mother from contacting her son!

If Pisaeng has any major flaw he’s not working to improve, it’s that he takes full advantage of the nepotism that got him his job in order to leave work on time every day.

I just really wanted to establish immediately that this fic is about Pisaeng being both shamelessly petty and wildly protective.

Fireproof [Between Us] Win x Team

Exes-to-lovers with totally appropriate amounts of suffering!

Win ignores the sleeping couple on the chairs across from him.

He is also ignoring his Problems. (Also the couple is KawiPi. Li’l Easter egg.)

surprise me [Between Us] Win x Team

Team tries to throw Win a surprise party in another country!

It’s number forty-three on the list of facts about Win that Team keeps on his phone: Win’s never had a surprise birthday party.

I love that Team canonically has a list of things he wants to memorize about Win. Baby simp.

Sorry Meal [Be My Favorite] Kawi x Pisaeng

Kawi gets through life’s challenges by being adorable with food!

The shouting stops around noon, and they refuse to speak to each other at all for the rest of the day.

In which I celebrate that KawiPi can both be stubborn assholes and their arguments are enormous fun for me personally.

somewhere to begin [Be My Favorite] Kawi x Pisaeng

Self-indulgent post-series fluff!

Twenty minutes after arriving home to find his little family waiting for him, Kawi lets his draining body list against Pisaeng.

Because I believe down to my core that Kawi is a snuggly needy simp deep down. (He literally imagined Pisaeng model-walking toward him and said, “Please believe me that I hate this man.”)

through casual mistakes of fate [Be My Favorite] Kawi x Pisaeng

Self-indulgent ep-11 angst fluff! (It’s real, I checked!)

Pisaeng wakes up to his alarm, swipes the button on his phone screen to shut it off, and rolls out of bed—all within a few seconds.

This is the line that made me realize the thing!!!

keep me here, i'm right where i belong [Be My Favorite] Max x Queer Rights, Kawi x Pisaeng

Self-indulgent marriage equality fluff!

When true marriage equality is won, Max is the first one to deliver the news to most of his friends.

Sooort of this one?

We Must Lead by Example [Naughty Babe] Lian x Kuea

LianKuea being smug about their sex-successful marriage!

When your best friend asks you not to tell your husband something, common courtesy dictates that you honor all those days and nights of laughter and tears by keeping the secret not just in this life but in the next and whatever’s in the interim.

And this is a return to form. INTERESTING.

——————

So here’s the thing: most of my opening lines are, like. Observations. Team keeps a list. Pisaeng and Kawi are fighting. Pisaeng has a flaw. Kongphob learned about bondage.

Very few are action-based. Pisaeng jumping out of bed, Kawi leaning on Pisaeng, Max telling his friends that marriage equality has passed.

I’ll have to go through more of my fics to know if this is a common thing, but it feels like it! I think most of my fics begin with observations rather than actions, and maybe I’ll try it the other way for a while and see what changes!

What a fun li’l exercise. \:D/

If you noticed anything different, definitely tell me! This is fun~