#which can be found in another snippet I shared recently!

[sunfloweraro]

YOU, HI! I love your fics and I came over to tumblr because I keep forgetting to find you and follow you, and what do I find? A bunny AU! I am loving it so far💜

HIIII!!! I REMEMBER YOU!!!! Snsksnsn that’s so cool that you came to find me over on tumblr too!!!

Thank you!!!!! This Pink Bunny AU has taken over my life, I’m having SO much fun with it!!!! And I love that you’re enjoying it too!!! I’m considering starting to post it over Christmas break because I just want to share it already!

In appreciation for all your lovely comments and this ask, I share with you this snippet:

***

Naturally, his Cub was ready with an insensitive comment: “You brought us dinner! Good boy, Wolfie!”

Twilight tore the rabbit away from Wild’s hands with a snarl. He ignored the hurt look in Wild’s eyes, darting over to Hyrule at the back—their resident magic-wielder and healer. He set the rabbit down before Hyrule with a soft whimper, and Hyrule was quick to inspect the mound of fur and mud dumped in front of him. Hands hovering over the rabbit, Hyrule froze, a flash of gold lighting up his eyes. He shared a look with Twilight, and Twilight wondered if he felt that same curious desire to protect overwhelming him.

It did not matter, so long as Hyrule helped the poor creature.

Hyrule met his gaze with a firm nod, turning back to the rabbit, and relief washed over Twilight’s furry shoulders. Hyrule carefully poked at the rabbit, murmuring an apology when it keened as his fingers danced over a patch of mud on its side. Hyrule paused there, pulling a rag from his pocket and gently clearing the filth. Blood welled up as he worked, and it wasn’t long before a nasty gash in the rabbit’s side was revealed. The wound had reopened with the aggravation and it wept ruby-red onto the ground between them, the fierce scent of iron piercing Twilight’s nostrils and making him turn away as Hyrule set hands glowing gold over the rabbit’s side. A soft moan escaped the rabbit and it slumped as Hyrule worked. Fear overwhelming him, Twilight nudged the rabbit’s head, terrified it had finally passed, the shock too much for its tiny body.

“He’s okay,” Hyrule murmured softly, pushing Twilight away by the muzzle. “I can feel he’ll be alright. He’s only exhausted and resting.”

A huff escaped Twilight. He nudged Hyrule in the arm to show his appreciation before settling down alongside the rabbit, watching as it—as he, according to Hyrule—slept. Under Hyrule’s care, the rabbit would be alright. He would survive this.

***

(And of course, obligatory @thatonecrazysidekick tag!!)

[theresthesnitch]

It's about community, y'all.

I’ve found myself recently in a fandom interaction that has left me feeling very uncomfortable, and I want to talk about it. 

I will not be sharing usernames or fic names, so please do not publicly mention who they are if you figure out who this is. 

About a month ago, I was messaged by an account that doesn’t follow me, asking me to read their friend’s fic. The initial message was very flattering–their friend was a big fan of my work, and it would be so nice for them to get a comment from me on it. Honestly, it was such a sweet message, and I said I was busy right then, but I’d make time to read it.

When I opened the fic, it was a username that I didn’t recognize. Which is not terribly surprising, but I do recognize and notice regular commenters and people who regularly interact with me on Tumblr. (Which, by the way, is a good thing. These people all have a special place in my heart, and I love seeing their interactions.) This person also had no other fics published to AO3, and no bookmarks on their account. 

 I am an email hoarder, which means that every comment, kudo, and tumblr follow I get an email notification for is still stored in my email. I searched my inbox for the writer’s username, and nothing came up. I don’t mean nothing significant, I mean not one single comment, kudos, or follow from the account. I searched the account who messaged me, and got the same result. No one single comment, kudo, or follow. 

The thing that may not be immediately obvious from the outside is that many writers connect with each other as well. We share fic recs, snippets, and plot bunnies. We also talk about comments that we love, fans that we enjoy seeing in our notes, and significant interactions. 

Which is to say that the first thing I did was drop this fic with an explanation of what happened into the “fic recs” channel of our discord. Immediately, I find out that this is not a unique situation. Many of the writers in that discord were also approached, either by the actual writer or a friend, and asked to read it. 

I messaged the account again and asked if their friend was operating under a new username because I didn’t recognize them. Which is valid and I know people change their usernames sometimes. The friend responded that they did, but that the friend wouldn’t like them sharing it. I looked into the tumblr that messaged me then, and the account had been set up one singular day before they messaged me, with nothing more than a few art reblogs on their blog. 

At this point, I’m getting a really weird feeling from this, and I decide to just not respond anymore. I’m not going to call them out, but I’m also not going to engage. 

Yesterday, the “friend’s” account sent me another message, asking if I’d read it and telling me again that they can give their friend’s old account name if I really want it. They also mention that their friend read through and commented on a bunch of my older fics–which they did. Between May 24 and June 1, they left 17 comments on some of the very first fics I ever wrote and published. However, the way she tells me this feels very much like a quid pro quo - I commented, now where’s yours? 

I jumped back into the discords of some of my mutuals, and asked about this again. It turns out that all of us have gotten a weird vibe from them, and that this all feels like such a manipulative, creepy way to ask for exposure on your fic. 

And, because I’m me and needed more information, I went back to their fic and looked through the comments and bookmarks. 

There’s an ongoing discussion in many writer’s circles about interactions being lower, particularly comments, which you’ve probably seen crop up around Tumblr as well. While I don’t want to rehash this discussion here, the basic consensus is that most established writers are seeing fewer comments than ever, even when there’s a significant number of kudos. 

This fic has a not insignificant number of kudos, but a surprisingly large amount of comments and bookmarks, comparatively. Enough that just seeing the stats shocked me. I looked through the comments and saw lots of well known fandom writers, as well as some otherwise blank accounts. It strikes me as very odd–especially from a new, blank account and for a one shot without chapters to build up an audience. 

I jumped back in the discord and asked my mutuals about this again. Several people described really weird interactions with this individual. I heard stories about this person being really flattering when they initially reached out, vaguely complimenting the writer, then completely ghosting after the writer comments on their fics. 

I’ve debated for a bit about whether to post on this or not. The entire interaction has left such a bad taste in my mouth. I’ve no doubt that the writer and their friend are the same person, and I suspect some of their comments are fabricated as well. It’s elaborate, to a weird degree, and I feel so uncomfortable by it. 

The thing is, I love talking to people who have read my work. I love getting sent a fic rec. I read so little at this point just due to life and limited time that basically everything I read is something a mutual wrote or something recommended to me. I also really love the “it would mean so much to me if you read this” message, but only if it’s genuine. I have read first fics of new writers who sent me their own work, with their name attached, and asked me to. 

Fandom writing is a community, and that works best when we have a little give and take. But when you’re out there manipulating interactions, building up fake flattery to only not follow through, that breaks down our community. It’s unfortunate, manipulative, and honestly, a bit creepy. 

I don’t know if they just thought we (the writing community) wouldn’t notice, but we did. I’ve talked to other writers about this, and if any of my mutuals had a similar experience, I’d love to hear about it. 

To my “friend” who wrote this fic, I know you’re proud of your fic, but you’re not doing yourself any favors with this behavior. I will not be reading it. I also will not be responding to you or “your friend” any further. I wish you luck, and I hope you find what you’re looking for. 

[starrylothcat]

Sparks

Hunter x Fem!Jedi Reader One-Shot

Summary: You and Hunter realize your long-hidden feelings for one another. Warnings: Wee bit of angst, kissing/making out, slight suggestiveness. This is my first fic! Excuse any formatting or grammatical errors...I haven't stretched my writing fingers in a long time. I also have no idea how Tumblr formatting works, haha. I needed some fluff after that finale. This one got away from me...3,000 words. Please leave your thoughts and enjoy!

@wanderer-six tagged as requested! :)

The bonfire was now huge, burning fast and bright, much to Wrecker and Omega’s delight. Sparks flew in to the clear night air, illuminating the figures sitting around it. 

Clone Force 99 and you had just finished a tiring mission and were taking the night to decompress on a desolate, forested planet. The bonfire was actually your idea, a memory you had stored deep in your subconscious from when you were a very young Jedi Padawan. After a tough training or difficult mission, your Master would often start a fire while you meditated and reflected. The heat and cackling from the flames helped calm you, oddly enough. It was something that you continued to do, even as a Jedi General during the war. It was something that burned bright in the darkness. Something that you were all now desperate for in this new Imperial galaxy.  

You didn’t speak much of your past as a Jedi at first. It was too painful, too fresh. But as you spent more time with Clone Force 99, you became more comfortable sharing small snippets on occasion, much to the excitement of Omega who hung on to every word. Echo would also sometimes add his own stories from his old squad, which would then inspire Wrecker to tell stories (sometimes embellished ones) of their missions, reminiscing on battles won. It was nice to connect again, to have those who understood you, as you were now all outcasts. Chewed up by the war and tossed to the side, now struggling to find your place in the galaxy.

Somewhat recently after Order 66, they rescued you from bounty hunters who had suspicions you were a Jedi. You tried to keep it a secret, but Hunter found you out with his heightened senses. You warily came clean to them, telling them the truth. 

You were only supposed to stay with them for a short time, only until you found a new place to hide. Hunter was wary with having a Jedi on board, especially since they already had a target on their back. But a short time turned longer. You were helpful on missions and were careful to never expose yourself as a Jedi. Omega became particularly attached to you, and Hunter saw how much Omega was benefiting from a woman on board. You also became close with them, especially Hunter. You both connected over the baggage of being a leader, and what it meant to fail as one as well. Other feelings began to blossom, that neither you or Hunter knew how to act on, or even if you should. You found yourself talking to him late in to the night, discussing next mission plans or plans from the past. But you both always left those conversations wishing you had said more. 

Tech had just carefully landed the ship on the empty, forested planet in the only clearing he could find. It was Hunter's idea to do inventory, seeing when you would need to do a supply run next. You casually mentioned the bonfire memory as you were all rummaging through gear and supplies, as this planet reminded you of that distant memory.

Omega’s eyes widened and asked, “Can we do that tonight? That sounds fun!” while looking excitedly between you and Hunter, who was sitting down and cleaning his knife. He chuckled, a low chuckle that made butterflies swirl in your stomach. Something you’ve realized has been happening more often. But you pushed that thought aside, for now. 

“Sure, kid. This planet is empty enough. I don’t think it will attract too much attention.” Tech adjusted his goggles and looked up from his datapad. “I do not see any settlements on this planet. There is no current need for worry.” He said before becoming absorbed once more in his research.

Wrecker, with much glee, shot up from begrudgingly organizing his gear, and announced, “Fire, I like this idea! This is boring anyway. Let’s take a break and go gather some wood!” He turned to look at Hunter for approval, who shrugged and nodded. “Omega, let’s go!” Wrecker hurriedly threw the rest of his unorganized gear on his bunk. Omega grinned, also happy to get away from inventory, and began after Wrecker down the ramp of the Marauder. She stopped at the top of the ramp and looked back. “Thank you!” She beamed at both you and Hunter, and skittered after Wrecker. 

Hunter had put his knife away and was now leaning against a wall with his arms crossed, gazing at you. You felt your heart beat quicken when you matched his stare.  “You’ve done it now.” He teased as he watched Wrecker and Omega run toward the tree line. You shrugged with a small smile as you stood up from putting the last piece of equipment back in your gear pack. “Well, I have to admit, I need a break too. Let’s just hope they don’t burn the whole planet down.”

Hunter released a low chuckle again and you felt heat rise up your neck. “With Wrecker involved, I’m not too sure.” Echo quipped from the pilot seat, where he was researching where they could get supplies before the next mission. “Given the current wind speeds and our distance from the trees, it would be difficult to start a blaze that big.” Tech called from under a piece of machinery he was now working on. “But I have to agree with Echo. With Wrecker involved, statistically the odds are higher.”

You gave a small laugh, which made Hunter’s heart involuntarily quicken. It was your laugh that he often thought of deep in the night, when he was having trouble sleeping. The way your shoulders moved when you chuckled, the way your eyes glinted when you smiled. How sometimes he’d find himself almost getting out of his bunk to wake you up and take you in his arms, telling you how he feels as his lips meet yours….

A sudden crash snapped him out of his thoughts, setting his senses haywire. You heard the sound too, and you looked at each other and ran down the ramp to see what the commotion was, hands on your blasters. Hunter breathed a sigh of relief when he saw Wrecker standing with Omega at the tree line, who were both excitedly picking up branches from a dead tree Wrecker had just knocked over. Hunter ran a hand through his hair. He couldn’t help but always be on high alert, especially with Omega. He could see relief in your eyes as well, once you realized it was nothing to be concerned about. You lightly touched his arm, asking “You okay?” “Yeah…” he breathed. “I’m not used to…calm.” You nodded, understanding.

“I guess we better enjoy it while it lasts.”

Your lips ghosted a smile, realizing you were still touching Hunter’s arm. You moved your hand, suddenly embarrassed. Hunter opened his mouth to speak, but was interrupted by Echo coming down the ramp to see what the commotion was. He also needed a break, and was interested in this fire idea. “Yeah, you’ve really done it now, _____.” Echo teased as you all looked at the growing pile of logs and branches that Omega and Wrecker had collected. “Hey, don’t just stand there, come and help us!” Wrecker called as he balanced more giant branches in his arms. You gave Hunter a look and continued down the ramp to help.

The sun was getting low, and Wrecker was adding the last log to a massive pile he and Omega collected. You were collecting small sticks and brush for kindling. Wrecker put down the last one, wiping sweat from his face. “Phew! Do you think this is enough?” He huffed. “If you are trying to light a fire big enough for the entire Galaxy to see, then yes.” Tech said casually as he came down the ship’s ramp, also now having his interest piqued. “Oh, it’ll be a massive fire, I can’t wait!” Wrecker exclaimed as he winked at Omega. 

“So now what? I’ve never made a fire before. Hunter, can you teach me?” Omega asked, looking up at Hunter with large, pleading eyes. Hunter looked at her softly. “Yeah, sure kid.” He glanced at you and then put his hand on Omega’s shoulder, leading her toward the log pile. 

As Hunter and Omega began to make a space for the fire, you and Echo were maneuvering some of the bigger logs for everyone to have a seat once the fire was going. Since this planet was desolate, you used the Force to move some of the larger logs. Hunter noticed out of the corner of his eye, always secretly impressed with your graceful power. It was rare when you used it, and it captivated him. 

“What’s next Hunter? Hunter?” Hunter snapped out of his thoughts and Omega was looking at him, curiously. “You were staring again.” She said quietly. “I don’t know what you mean, Omega.” He lightly scolded, trying to change the subject.

She gave a small smirk. “You sometimes stare at _____.” Hunter cleared his throat. “And I see her stare at you sometimes, too.” She said matter-of-factly, looking back at the pile of kindling they had placed for the eventual fire. “I think she likes you.” Before he could respond, you had suddenly appeared behind them. “How’s it going?” You asked. Hunter bristled, hoping you hadn’t just heard their conversation, not even realizing you were approaching. “It’s uh…going well. I’m just about to teach Omega how to actually light the fire.” 

“I have something embarrassing to admit.” You said sheepishly. “I actually don’t know how to start a fire, either. My Master just always used his lightsaber.” You laughed and Omega smiled. 

“Mind if I watch?” You sat down next to Hunter, eager to learn as much as Omega was. Or maybe you were just eager to be close to Hunter. His senses were suddenly overwhelmed with your scent, another thing he was noticing lately. His stomach felt like it was on fire. Get a grip, Hunter. he thought. He snapped himself out of thinking about you once again, and continued with his lesson. “Im going to start with the hard way first. Say you’re stranded without gear. This is important to learn.” He took a small stick to use as a spindle and a small flat piece of wood. “This takes awhile and is a pain, but this is the most basic way to start a spark.” He began to spin the spindle between his hands quickly in to a divot he had made on the flat piece of wood on the ground, held steady by his foot. Omega watched intensely, soaking up every word and action. You saw a small gleam of sweat form at his brow, and watched the concentration in his eyes. Your heart fluttered again, suddenly imagining his sweaty brow and intense look above you in a moment of passion. The smell of smoke brought you back to reality, before your imagination went further. Hunter had made a small ember that was smoking. He carefully moved it to the kindling and gently blew on it to start a small flame.

“Woaaah, let me try!” Omega gasped excitedly and went to work the same way Hunter did on a new piece of flat wood. You watched as he patiently moved her hands to the correct position, gently correcting her when appropriate. For a dark and broody Sergeant, you recognized his moments of softness. Moments that he also sometimes shared with you, which you knew were special, especially coming from someone as guarded as him.

After trial and error, and some frustration, Omega finally got her own spark. “I did it!” She yelled. Hunter smiled.

“Good work, kid. You might just be a natural. Now, carefully put it in the kindling.”

She gently moved it to the already growing flame and looked at Hunter for approval. “There you go, you did it. That was all you.” Omega beamed and said  “Now it’s _____’s turn.” She jumped up and brushed dust and dirt off her knees, and began to walk away. “Wait, where are you going?” Hunter asked. Omega turned and called,  “I want to tell the others the fire is almost ready!” She gave Hunter a look and ran back to the Marauder where the rest of the boys had gone to rest, before Hunter and you could respond. 

It was suddenly quiet, only the gentle crackling of the small fire was to be heard. 

“I guess it’s my turn to try, huh?” You said softly, realizing it was just you and Hunter for a moment. The sun was almost set, and the small fire was casting a soft glow on the both of you. “You don’t have to-“ he began but you stopped him.

“No, I want to! What good am I to the team if I can’t even start a fire? I need to impress my Sergeant." You smirked playfully. "Also, I can’t let a kid get the best of me.” You teased as you began to spin the stick between your hands.

“You bring other skills to the team, you don’t have to worry about fire making.” He stated. “Leave that to Omega and I.” He smiled, looking at you. “Also, you don’t need to impress me. You already do that.” Suddenly, you felt shy. Hunter glanced away from you, embarrassed about what he just said, wrestling with his feelings, wondering if he had said too much. 

“Thank you, Hunter. I don’t think I’ve ever expressed how grateful I am to you, and to your brothers, for taking me in.” Hunter looked at you. “You don’t need to thank me. But I’m glad you’re here. Part of this team.” He murmured, turning away from you and looking at the fire. “Me too.” You acted before you could think, gently placing your hand on his shoulder, closing the distance between you, forgetting all about the fire lesson. Hunter stiffened a little while facing you, feeling your hand on his unarmored shoulder. The touch he often thought about late in to the night. The touch he wondered if he’d ever feel. If he even deserved it. 

Once again, you felt heat climb up your neck to your face and you began to remove your hand, but before you could, Hunter brought his other hand and placed it on top of yours. Your feelings for Hunter exploded in your chest, realizing how handsome he looked in the soft light, his brown eyes shining in the dark, wondering what you should do next as you felt the heat from his hand encapsulate yours. You were taught no attachments, but that had no meaning anymore. Was this just desperation for something that used to be taboo? You tried to read his face, as he gazed intensely at you. Hunter moved closer to you, “____...I want to tell you something…”

Your intimate moment was suddenly cut short by voices as Wrecker, Tech, Omega, and Echo emerged from the falling darkness toward you. Your hand left Hunter’s shoulder and you practically leapt away from him, startled by the intrusion. You caught a small look of disappointment on his face. “Aww yeah, it’s fire time!” Wrecker bellowed as he held a huge armful of sticks and logs. “Let’s get this going!” You were still sitting near Hunter, and Echo gave you and Hunter a sly look as he sat down on a log near the still small fire, carrying ration bars. You were suddenly distracted by the giant roar as the fire grew due to Wrecker and Omega gleefully adding more and more wood to the fire, blissfully unaware they interrupted…something. Tech tried to explain the optimal way to place logs to get the most efficient fire, but his remarks were ignored and Omega and Wrecked piled more in to the blaze, and he soon gave up.

The heat blazed and sparks flew in to the air, the wood cracking and popping. The fire was massive, and Omega had never seen anything like it and was in awe. You saw Hunter out of the corner of your eye as he stared in to the flames, his face unreadable. You all enjoyed the light and intense warmth the large blaze gave, sitting in silence for a bit. You desperately wanted to be alone with Hunter again, as you listened to Wrecker tell another taller than life tale, with an annoyed Tech trying to interject the facts. Your memory was brought back to you and your Master, quietly enjoying the fire and reflecting on your day’s mission. After Wrecker finished his story, Omega turned to you, waiting for another glimpse in to your past. She understood it was hard for you to talk about, but was hopeful to hear something from before the Galaxy she currently knew. “Omega,” Hunter warned. “____ might not want to discuss it.” He gave you a soft look. The look almost melted your heart. You wanted to desperately take his face in your hands and continue what had started before. 

“It’s okay, Hunter. I have a story.”

You told Omega of your first solo mission as a Jedi Knight. You had  infiltrated a pirate base. It wasn’t too exciting, but to Omega it was the most amazing story she’d ever heard. Echo passed out the ration bars as you told your story. After you were done, you nibbled on your bar as you stared in to the flames. There was a comfortable silence as everyone ate, enjoying the small bit of calm before you were all off again on another mission.

After awhile, the fire began to dim and there was no more wood to add. Omega let out a yawn, satisfied with her first bonfire. “We should do this more often.” She proclaimed as another yawn overtook her. “Yeah kid, we can.” Hunter whispered. Wrecker had already fallen asleep, laying over a log in an uncomfortable position, snoring away. Tech nudged Wrecker, also ready to go back to the ship to sleep. One by one, they went back to the ship, leaving you, Hunter, and Echo. Echo then stood up, bidding you both a good night. “I’ll leave you two to it, then.” He raised an eyebrow and then he was gone before you either of you could respond.

Once again, you were alone with Hunter and the slowly burning fire. He looked at you, the fire reflecting in his eyes. 

He never thought he’d be grappling with feelings like this. Especially for someone like you. But you cared about him. Worried about him and his brothers, something he’d never experienced before. It was new, and frankly, it scared him. He’d never admit it out loud, but that was the truth. But here he was, with you within arms reach again, staring at him and waiting for what might come next. You looked beautiful, ethereal in the glow of the now small fire. “Hunter…” you whispered as you maneuvered closer to him, like you were before earlier in the night. Your hand was close to his on the log you were both sitting on. You couldn’t wait any longer, the tension between you was about to snap. “You wanted to tell me something earlier?”

He stared intensely at you, trying to find the words to say.

“____, I…I wanted to tell you…I care about you.” His voice was deep, almost inaudible. You fully took his hand, looking right in to his eyes. He was suddenly overwhelmed, waiting for your response. “Hunter, I care about you too.” The second he heard you whisper those words, he boldly closed the distance, acting purely on instinct, pressing his lips against yours in a soft, quick kiss. He pulled back slightly, hoping he didn’t mess this all up. 

“____, tell me to stop and I will.” Hunter’s voice was husky and deep. Almost a whisper. It sent shivers down your spine. “Never.” You murmured as you brought a hand to his face, gently cradling his head. Relief washed over you, happy you finally revealed how you felt. He closed his eyes and leaned in to your touch, sighing a deep sigh. You moved your hand from his cheek and gripped his collar, needing more. You pulled him back to your lips for a more passionate kiss. He felt a weight lift off his shoulders as the tension between you dissipated, flying in to the sky with the embers from the fire.

It was his turn to bring his hands to your face, cradling your head gently as he deepened the kiss, your heart feeling like it was about to explode out of your chest. The sensation of your lips moving on his was almost overwhelming. His hands were strong, yet gentle as they maneuvered down to your hips, leaving a trail of fire down your body. You both pulled away again, panting slightly, looking in each other’s eyes. All the unsaid words, all the silent looks, were now completely understood by both of you. 

Your hand that was on his collar moved to the back of his head, threading your fingers through his long, soft locks while your other hand gripped his shoulder. You whispered his name as he pulled you in impossibly close for another kiss, getting drunk on your scent, your body. 

His tongue slowly made his way in to your mouth, which pulled a groan from deep in your chest. Your reactions spurred him on, his hands on your waist ghosting underneath your tunic, his gloved hands moving over your bare skin making the butterflies in your stomach explode. You desperately wanted those gloves off, to feel his skin on yours. After what felt like an eternity, you parted for air once again.  The fire had now died down quite a bit, leaving you both in almost total darkness. You were illuminated by the stars, the only sound being your shallow breaths. You both wanted so much more, but now wasn’t the time. Hunter nuzzled his face in to your neck, and moved one of his hands from your hips to grasp yours, which had fallen to your side. “I’m yours, if you’ll have me.” He whispered against your neck, his heart thudding against yours. “Yes, Hunter.” You whispered back, squeezing his hand. He moved his head from your neck and brought you against his chest in an embrace, his chin leaning on your head. You both gazed at the glowing embers of what used to be the giant fire, wondering what comes next. But at least for now, you were at peace.

[gacha-incels]

My current theory is that ( Puts tinfoil hat )  The ongoing gender war stuff in both CN and KR have definitely shifted how some 'waifu-collectors' see the female player base and therefore male characters in gacha games. There's definitely an ongoing narrative that women are the root of toxicity and more devs should adopt the waifu-only policy to appeal to as few women as possible and gatekeep their safe havens. The irony is that most of these people advocating to exclude women are using the vocal minority for their examples as to why, which is exactly what they don't want done to themselves. Basically, women should only play Love and Deepspace and men can play GFL2/AL/Snowbreak/Nikke etc. As long as women 'stay in their lane' they are satisfied, even though it's been shown that both men and women will pull for characters of the opposite gender and vice versa. Mixed cast games are trying to err on the side of caution because if they don't appeal to this crowd enough (by skewing the gender ratio harder, or by making more fanservice designs) then they will be brigaded on social media for appealing too much towards women or radical feminists.

omg yeah I feel like “gamer” men say this outright around the world from east to west. “women are coming into our games and making the women less sexy and everything more toxic” etc. attitude has ramped up. though it was always bad if you remember, in the west at least, the absolute insane violent tantrum reaction to Anita Sarkeesian for making like I cannot stress this enough just pretty basic feminist videos about video games. It was like seeing grown adult men have the same type of screaming tantrum a toddler would have when you tell him he can’t have an expensive toy at the store. except instead of one kid sitting on the floor screaming it was an unbelievable amount of men worldwide sitting in their computer chairs screaming and writing graphic rape threats and making full video games where you violently beat her. For the crime of just one woman talking about fucking Mario or whatever. THIS is how these men react when you do something as benign as that. I posted some more about this here.

you have no idea the insane shit that gets blamed on female fans or female employees of mixed sex gachas. A lot of that has been already posted here obviously so I’ll post something new I saw just so we can archive some more examples. Recently one of my friends from the infrared blog I sometimes repost here showed me this strange phenomenon happening on the Genshin impact leaks subreddit where a good amount of guys were accusing the developers of the game of being fujoshis because they thought a new female water character was being nerfed so that a previously released male water character would be the strongest water character. I thought this was a joke (my mistake) but it spanned a LOT of comments and got extremely heated. Later I found these comments in another thread there

Like this is the thought process. This sucked -> ok so probably a woman wrote it -> well most writers graduated from liberal arts schools, and most liberal arts students are women, so it was definitely a female writer. This is how easy it is for this type of “gamer” male to blame anything they hate on women. They did this for one of the stories in HSR that was disliked as well. If you look up “有男不玩” there are videos on bilibili but also some on YouTube where you can get snippets of how these guys are thinking about female gacha players. They share some similarities with all gamer men who think women are more frivolous, unskilled and don’t like action games. there were particular comments that reminded me of how Korean incels wrote about women, in that games should stop pandering to us altogether because we don’t have enough money, or if we do have money it’s because it’s coming from a boyfriend or male relative, or we’re all just playing f2p. ironically a huge amount of merch sales, IRL events and fan-PR like fanart comes from female players and they are usually the ones to stick around the longest I believe, but these guys only understand the money aspect of these games.

There are a lot of ones that were interesting but I don’t want to use too many since I was working with MTL, and then looking up individual phrases, and then retranslating some, and then looking up context, etc. lol. so when I have a better grasp on this I can make a better post.

in regards to how they find it ok if the games are sex segregated yes exactly,I posted about this earlier and probably a couple months ago too but this was most recent so it’s easiest to just copy here

[summaryscar]

I have not been able to write a whole ton recently, which I feel really bad about, so I’ve decided to share a small snippet of a chapter I’m working on for a fic I’ve been writing

Now, this snippet isn’t part of the next chapter to be posted, but I’ve had it written for so long and I’m honestly pretty happy with it despite how short it is

The chapter that this snippet does go in probably won’t be posted for a while (I’m writing chapter 11, but this’ll probably happen closer to chapter 20 or something of the sort), but it doesn’t really seem to spoil a whole lot of what I have planned, so I think I can share it

“Legend, we have to go.”

“No, not yet. I’m sure I can find something in here that’s still edible.”

“Legend, please. We’re gonna get in trouble again, and there’s no one to bail us out of it this time.”

“Come on, ‘Rulie, have a little faith in me.”

“Legend, I’m serious. Legend.”

Legend paid his little brother no mind. Instead, he kept digging through the dumpster they found behind a grocery store. While he would much rather prefer to eat an actual meal and not something that had been thrown out who knows how long ago, it was the only choice they had.

“Legend,” Hyrule tried again. “Legend, someone’s coming. Someone who looks very much like some sort of officer is coming.”

“Dang it, I can’t find anything!”

“Legend, we need to leave now!”

Here’s the link to the fic if anyone wants to catch up on what’s been happening before this point

Summary: It’s been a few months since Twilight had to enter the foster care system and was placed with Time and Malon, and he’s beginning to like living with them. One day, another kid needs to be fostered by them, and slowly but surely, they somehow end up becoming a family of ten.

[eusuntgratie]

I found your Raf/Alex fic and it is so good. I'm so glad I'm not the only one who was interested in their dynamic. So sad yours is like the only one of its kind enough! Would you ever be interested in exploring more Alex/Raf narratives in your writing?

hello fellow alex/raf enjoyer!

thank you so much! already over is absolutely one of my favorite fics i've written and these two compel me, both because i love both characters SO MUCH and because i think something like already over so easily fits into canon and i love exploring things like that (things that could have happened in canon but didn't for whatever reason).

the alex/raf tag is growing however! we're up to 5 fics!

(the first one posted appears to involve raf grooming and abusing alex so i have not and will not be reading that one)

someone actually JUST wrote already over from alex's pov. i think this is the first fanfic of my fanfic like that i'm so excited. you can read it here: https://archiveofourown.org/works/59393311

the same author just posted another fic this morning, i think, although i haven't gotten to look at it yet.

there is one other alex/raf posted before mine that has been on my list but i still haven't read (https://archiveofourown.org/works/55222675) that looks promising if you're into kink and dom/sub dynamics.

i am very much interesting in exploring alex/raf more. i do have more ideas for the already over 'verse. i want to explore raf wrestling with his guilt about what he's done with alex considering his past with richards. i want to think about what it would do to alex when raf joins richards campaign in this verse. i love pain 😈. i also think that alex still ends up with henry in this 'verse, and i want to explore what that looks like. their early conversations about him. them interacting after everything. if you're read any of my other writing it won't shock you to know that i'd love to write a threesome with all three of them. i'll tag untitled alex/raf below which was my wip tag for this one so i think any of my ideas i've posted about should be in there.

i'd also love to write some short snippets and things for them although i don't have anything in the works. i always welcome rarepairs when i take prompts (which isn't very often anymore). i am still working on kiss prompts so if you wanted to send one of those you could.

lastly, i gotta adjust your expectations, because if you look at my tumblr or ao3 profile you will notice that i am multifandom multishipper. i'm also always juggling multiple wips, and its worse right now because i've recently joined a new fandom. so if you're hoping for any specific project, it will probably be a while. i do always welcome asks about my writing as long as you're nice; i don't mind giving updates or sharing snippets when i have them.

thank you for the ask and for loving already over!

ps - you might be new to tumblr or have been lurking (welcome!) i'd recommend selecting a profile pic and maybe reblogging some posts. you kinda look like a bot with an empty blog and no pic :)

[witch-oftheflowers]

✂️ Share a snippet of a WIP

💌 Which of your fics mean the most to you and why?

💡 Are there other fics or writers that are inspirational or influential to you?

Thank you Anon!

✂️: "I had a feeling.. once I saw your face.." he looked off, a bit disappointed in her words. But he fully understood with her situation. Or theirs? He ponder on that as he didn't think at this age he could have kids. Kids wasn't a topic he thought about, fuck even they weren't dating. It was just a fling between them. It's not like he thought she was beautiful, an intelligent woman, nor the fact she could knock him out-

He blinked a bit as he realized he did like her. A lot.

"If it's positive?" He asked her, she stared at him for a second. Sitting up she tucked her legs under her bottom. She was thinking as she knew she wanted kids, but their situationship wasn't ideal.

"We'll just see..."

This is a wip for One of the baby stories of Simon and Ximena! So I'm excited to publish it soon-

💌 I think the one that means the most is Home. I think this one showing how the two are as a couple, a glimpse of Simon under Ghost. It's honestly feels homey to know these two even as fictional characters with such tragic and traumatic events for them can come home to this. It's really a sweet story I love for them

💡I love so many writers on here so many greats. Like @ivystoryweaver I love their stories a lot with the vivid details for characters they write. Love them! One of the many I first found when I joined here

@virtie333 is another I enjoy as well gives me inspection for a lot of the stories I write with how they do romance.

@thelaisydazy I know they're amazing with their stories and I found them recently and it's crazy to know that in such a short time I can see so much from their story tellings.

@hoedamn-eron enjoy their stories as well just the details makes me go raa with joy

@shotmrmiller this precious gem who hasn't been writing for so long. AND I LOVE THEIR WORK. It is very 18+ but true inspiration

@suimon another love for cod I have on here and just mwah french kiss

All these amazing lovely writers are inspiring people. I enjoy all of their works rather it be for Cod characters or Oscar Isaac characters, and I inspire to be like them one day. Do keep in mind I think all of them are 18+ blogs, not just because of NSFW but in general too.

And thank you again for asking! I appreciate it a lot anon probably really long than expected but yeah lots of love and show love to these writers as well!!

[poupeesdecirque]

Posting by Queue, or: why I need some distance from my crafts

It has been some time since my last hobby meta blog entry, it had different reasons and one is that I need distance. Like, yes I of course enjoy crafting and sometimes I am like a little child that runs everywhere to show off things.

But it got ... less intense. And I learned I do better when I keep projects or at least details to myself to sit on them for longer. That the first euphoria is purely mine and not to be shared.

Like for my photos I have a buffer of several weeks now. Yes, I know past-me would have kind of hated that. But I learned I do better when I have a time buffer. I do take photos weekly but sometimes they don't feel special enough to get the weekly photo feature?

Friday & yesterday I went out for photos and while I like the ones from yesterday way more than the ones from friday I am not sure if the set from yesterday will get the feature or not as it's only a hand full of photos giving me that certain spark.

Other than that I am a very emotional artist, I sometimes really fuck up my art and hate it at the moment I worked on it, but then, sometimes, after a few days or weeks I can look at it and just wonder about what was my problem the day I made it.

Another thing is that I, myself, enjoy my art. The process of it. And I like to see my blog updating, sometimes I forget what post will go online and then I check the blog and think "ah yes, this was that thing!", and it reminds me why I made the blog overall, to show myself I had progress and that every tiny step counts.

Which leads to another reason why I hold back in regards of posting. Yes, I do share some snippets in my stories over on insta but not always and not all. I sit on over 300 drawings from the last two years alone nobody ever will see, I enjoyed drawing but it's nothing for the public eye. I will maybe go back and redraw some and share the redraws then, who knows?

But wait, there is actually more reasons.

The biggest or main reason is ... i sometimes go really wild on projects. In January I finished so many dolls it was insane, I worked on Cosplays and other crafts in an incredible speed, I have literally no idea where I found the time but I somehow did and doll parts arriving every week did the rest.

I keep the blog running with partially 2 month old stuff but .... to be honest I don't have doll stuff aside photos to do anymore. All I can do is wait for bodies to be shipped (or dolls even) and arrive. There has been no movement since January. Aside Iza getting the shipping notice for our Split, might take a while until its at her place and I can't really start on the Akuma until I got the body (which I at least have finally ordered this month) as colors need to be matched and mods to be made.

I am truly itchy to do something else than sewing all the time, I do enjoy cosplay but you know how much I like sewing (hint: not at all). So to remind myself of the fun I had in the past weeks I have mixed my blog to bless me with some progress I had which was maybe not sewing all the time. And well, the Cosplays have deadlines and I do get some ideas aside purely sewing while doing them, so that keeps me going for now.

Yes, I could start redoing dolls like Alastor or Erwin. But you know what? IT'S ALMOST ALL SEWING. Urgh.

Aside that real life is pretty good at eating me up and I just want to enjoy crafting. Right now drawing feels like stress relief but I hate the results and just scan the pieces and put them away to never look at them again, I have a bunch of posts queued up without any captions, a wip entry of a current project only has two photos but I lack the spoons to actually get them done. But since those posts are so far back it's fine (yes I know drafts are a thing).

In general I enjoy having my art to myself to get used to it before I put it out into the wild as I just recently got reminded I do bad with direct comparisons still and it hits some triggerpoints from the past and makes everything harder, I don't need that.

I literally have no idea if this blog makes sense even, lol. I just am tired of sewing and stopped working on my current project around lunch time and have drawn so much today and I walked way too much the whole week my friends urged me to stay the ef home and at least try to relax. But I'm restless as my body is too stressed (I know it all I'm a certified relaxation trainer so eh), so, have an over the place blog entry.

[clericofshadows]

WIP Wednesday!

tagged by @daggertongue! thanks for the tag :D

and I'm "tagging" anyone who sees this and wants to share something!

I don't have any mod WIPs I want to share (or can share ;)) at the moment, so here's a snippet for my next fic I'll work on after the regis/kaidan reunion fic (which is almost done, probably going to post in one go).

so I'm writing up my version of the citadel dlc intro, and here's another snippet. first one can be found here!

Regis smiled as he walked up the stairs into their bedroom, opening the closet and sorting through his suits.  He grabbed a red vest, a black button down, slacks, and a pair of his combat boots.  For comfort.  He grabbed his silicone wedding rings and placed them on top of each other on his ring finger, keeping the real ones safe on his dog tags hanging in the jewelry box.

He also reached for his holster, designed to fit his N7 Eagle perfectly underneath his shoulder.  

Sitting on his weapon bench was one of his visors.  A thinner, smaller model turians tend to prefer to use, recently co-opted and refitted for human use.  He tucked it in his vest pocket, one of the arms of the visor hanging off the side of his pocket.

Because you never know.

He took his time getting ready, ensuring no piece was out of place.  He finished up by finger-combing some product in his hair and rubbing some oil into this beard.

When he walked down the stairs, rolling up his sleeves, revealing his inked arms, Zaeed let out a whistle.  Regis rolled his eyes as he stood in front of the couch, twirling around so they could look at his outfit.  “Good enough to take off of me later?”

“I don’t know,” Zaeed said, a sparkle in his eye.  “This is a picture I want to keep.  May just have to worship you with it on, only taking just enough off to make you writhe.”

Regis gave him a look, but he doubted it had much fire behind it.  “You are not going to ruin my suit.”  Zaeed held up his hands in surrender, keeping that smug expression on his face.  Bastard.  That’s all Regis is going to think about during the damn meet up.

Dry cleaning does exist…

Kaidan shook his head at Zaeed’s comment.  “Do you really need the Eagle?” He asked, pointing at the holster.

“I’m a Spectre.  I can open carry,” Regis said, crossing his arms.  “Too much?”

“Yes, I know you’re a Spectre.” Kaidan rolled his eyes.  Regis stuck out his tongue.  “Nah.  It suits you.  Makes it clear how you feel about the meeting.”

“I’m going to be pissed if I find out this could’ve been a damn email.” Regis said.  He stepped forward to kiss the both of them on the cheek.  “I’ll be back soon.”

“Try not to kill our pilot.  Don’t have many of those that will put up with our crew,” Zaeed called out as Regis opened the door.

He shot him a one-fingered salute in response.

The ride to the restaurant was quick enough.  Regis toyed with the rings on his finger, twisting them around.  He wasn’t anxious, per se, but he wasn’t exactly looking forward to the meeting.

Mostly because he was going to give Moreau one hell of an earful.  

The skycar stopped and he stepped outside, looking at the line of people.  As he walked to the end of the line, all eyes on the first Human Spectre and Admiral, the host waved him forward.  He sighed and got out of his place in line.  As he stepped onto the fish tank floors, looking down on them with barely disguised annoyance, Moreau waved him over to a table in the back, a grin on his face, wearing a casual blazer and jeans.  

Okay, something is weird.  Something is definitely up.  There’s no way he’ll ever be this enthusiastic about a meeting with Regis.  They tolerate each other, and that’s it.

He almost wanted to see if someone was behind him.

He walked over to the table and sat down, lacing his fingers together on the table.

Moreau’s gaze landed on his gun.  “Uh, was that really necessary?”

“Oh, you mean this?” Regis pointed at his holster.  “I don’t know. Why the hell did you invite me to what I could consider the biggest abomination of a restaurant on the Citadel?  You know I would’ve been perfectly fine at a damn noodle stand.”

“Wait a minute, you messaged me.  For a second I thought it was a prank.  I mean, hello–” he gestured around.  “I know you.  This is your personal hell, but maybe you decided to let that all go to celebrate your favorite pilot.”

“My favorite pilot is EDI,” Regis deadpanned, keeping his face neutral as Moreau clutched at his chest in offense.  “Shit, so you got a message from me, and I got a message from you… I knew I should’ve involved infosec.”

“You were about to involve infosec?  Let me see that message you got,” he replied.  Regis obliged, pulling up his omnitool.  He read over it quickly.   “That’s weird.  My message is almost the same, except from you.”

“My filters and scans didn’t pick up any anomalies, so I just assumed you had EDI write and send it like you have a tendency of doing,” Regis replied, shutting it off.  “This isn’t good.”

“Hey, she offers!  It’s efficiency,” he defended.  His gaze fell to something behind him.  “Uh, there’s a low ranking officer in blues trying to get our attention.”

Regis turned around to see a young woman waving desperately to get their attention, clothed in perfect dress blues, hat in place, and shoes shined to perfection.

Almost too perfect, but not uncommon with some of the lower ranks.  Wanting to make themselves seem as important as possible, which he couldn’t blame.

Still… this whole situation had him unnerved.  Regis got the attention of the host who was trying and nearly failing to hold her back.  He made a “come here” motion and the host reluctantly let her through as she stumbled forward.

Another thing bugged him.  Kaidan and Zaeed knew he was here.  How did she know he was here?  Did the press announce it that quickly?  Admiral Regis Shepard spotted at Ryuusei, more at 11?

She stopped at their table, holding a datapad, almost sounding out of breath as she introduced himself.  “Staff Analyst Maya Brooks.  Alliance Intelligence.  Com–Admiral Shepard, there are people trying to kill you.”

He’s been an Admiral since the end of the war.  Kind of annoying that some people still try to call him Commander.

He and Moreau shared a look.  Moreau spoke up.  “Uh, yeah, that’s pretty typical for Shepard.  What’s new?”

“No, like I’m aware of the remnants of Cerberus and other orgs, but ugh–” she shook her head, looking frustrated with herself.  “Someone is hacking into your accounts.  Comm channels, personal records… They’re targeting you specifically.”

Regis narrowed his eyes.  “I figured that out before you got here.  You and your department must’ve dropped the ball.  I have my own fucking security, so what the hell is going on?”

She flinched back at his hostility, but something about it looked exaggerated.  Perhaps he shouldn’t have been so harsh, but her high energy was getting on his nerves.  “We don’t have all the intel yet!  And I’m not about to guess when we don’t have all the information.”

Regis made a motion with his hand to continue.  “Well, what do you know?”

“Take a breath, Brooks,” Moreau said.  “Not like this is a life or death situation or anything.”

At that moment, out of the corner of his eye, he caught a lot of movement from the entrance.  With a hand on his gun, Regis watched as a whole group of armored, armed mercenaries started pouring in, pushing the host aside.

Shit.

Regis made no move just yet, not wanting to draw too much attention to himself.  He readied his Tech Armor on his omnitool, ready to flash-forge it over his body.

It’s a good thing he didn’t wear his best suit.  He had a feeling it wasn’t going to survive this trip.

“Good evening ladies and gentlemen!  Tonight's performance is brought to you by random acts of violence,” one of the mercs announced, presumably the captain.  At his word, his fellow mercs started shooting in the air, causing chaos and throwing up tables, causing the civilians to scatter and cower in fear.  They shot at the glass, and Regis put on his visor as he got up, shielding Moreau from the fire and using the table as a make-shift shield.  

As the visor calibrated, he noticed that the structural integrity of the building was severely compromised.  You would've thought that an expensive restaurant would spring for the best glass for their precious fish.

He was going to leave a one-star review once he gets out of this mess.  

“Spread out boys!  Find me Shepard!” the captain announced.

Regis pushed Moreau down, keeping an eye on the analyst.  He drew his gun and activated his omnitool, typing out an SOS to Zaeed and Kaidan.

Need help.  Suit up fast.  Ryuusei.

The message lagged a bit before eventually sending.  Shit, they’re jamming comms too?  He sent it just in time, but the warning signs on his visor weren’t helping with all the chaos on the tanks. A fish restaurant is not going to kill him today.

[jack-kellys]

Détective au + afterlife au for the ask game!!

what's quite funny about this ask is that it became a ghost hunting/destroying storyline and then maybe two hours into writing the snippet i got a ghost hunting au + something else ask. more for me!!

i have a lot but u can send me more randomized aus!

okay SO! recently i saw this 8 episode show called lockwood & co on netflix (originally a book series) and it was sort of a weird first season to follow without the lingo and historical context of the world so basically this is an au adjacent to that concept. inspired by, if you will. one thing that's important is that young ppl lowkey function as living tools to listen to, see, or feel ghosts' energy. so they are tasked with destroying ghosts. without further ado here's a 1.6k word scene of a one-shot idea i'll finish eventually!

–––

Sarah and David stood at the door together, the eerie home where their research had brought them. A haunted item, some music box, had been being bought and sold across the city, only leaving haunting incidents in its wake. It wasn’t hard for the spirit within to free itself with all that travel and the likely lack of protection the music box had undergone. David had tracked the hauntings, cross-referenced with recent black market sales, and estimated the next location via finding the latest buyer’s home. Sarah had surmised the threat level based on the hauntings (the deaths; there had been ten recent ones of hypothermia, which could only mean a ghost’s touch), finding police reports and tapping their forensics friend Finch to properly place what kind of threat they’d be dealing with. 

And now, armed with iron bullets, chest plates, and lined gloves among other things, Sarah tried the doorknob. Unlocked. 

The twins shared a look, David nodding and fingering his pistol as Sarah carefully opened the door.

An iron blade poked into David’s throat, both siblings freezing in place. After a moment, David groaned.

Holding the sword was ex-detective Jack Kelly, who looked about as shocked as David had been. His two brothers-in-arms, Charlie and Anthony, flanked his sides with their own weapons drawn. 

“Who gave you this case?” Jack demanded in a whisper, while Sarah scoffed. 

“Who gave you this case?” she countered. “You’re not registered detectives anymore, Kelly. You can’t be here.”

“And somehow, we were here first,” Anthony grinned. “If we cracked it better and quicker than you, then I think we gotta be the right people to be here.”

“Too many of us’ll make us dead a lot faster, so you guys should go,” Charlie nodded. “We got it covered.”

David scowled, guiding Jack’s iron away from his neck with a finger.

“Not a chance in hell,” he muttered, marching past all of them. “Follow me.”

After a moment of hesitation, he heard footsteps behind him, and his own grew more sure. 

The old hardwood of the house barely creaked under their feet, careful of the noise they made as they were essentially breaking and entering– it was the buyer’s property, and David wasn’t sure if the man was home or not. Essentially, all they had to do was secure the music box and get it to their detective agency, to determine if it should be stored or if it was safer to destroy it. Spirits were mostly tied to objects, and since these specific hauntings had been within a short radius of the box, it had to be the spirit’s physical connection. But where in the house the box could be was another matter. 

David’s hand found his sister’s, letting her take it and closing his eyes. Listening.

“Right,” he heard Jack drawl out. “The spirit gonna give us directions?”

“You know it doesn’t work that way,” David sighed, “or I’d be calling you an empath.”

“He does love his crystals,” Charlie teased, and David heard a small rustling between the two brothers, likely from Jack pushing the other.

“Quiet,” he said softly, suddenly, a small sound at the back of his head. Mechanical, a trill of gears tapping and moving to his left. He drifted toward it, allowing Sarah to guide his steps. The sound moved forward, between his eyes now as the noise of it came more into focus. It wasn’t tinny, wasn’t machine-like despite the ticking and tapping of it. He felt his feet hit the stairs, and cautiously started up them.

“What are you hearing?” Sarah whispered, resting her other hand on David’s back.

“It’s fluid,” he murmured, “as much as a music box can be, anyway. Guessing it’s because of the spirit’s post-life being attached- or… combined with it.”

“I’d rather fight a ghost than a box, so let’s not hope ‘combined’,” Anthony muttered behind him. Jack stifled a laugh, before letting out another one. David heard the railing’s wood creak, maybe a hand tightening around it.

“Wasn’t that funny, Jack,” Anthony said. “Now you’re just patronizing me.”

“I know, you’re not that-” Another giggle broke it off, what sounded like a hand slapping over Jack’s mouth as they made it to the top of the stairs. The fluid sound grew louder in David’s ears. Melodic, bright, and pretty, a swirling tune that tried to make David smile.

His eyes flew open with a small gasp, squeezing Sarah’s hand.

“Something’s wrong,” he murmured. “The spirit sounds too strong, we have to find that box- we have to find out if the buyer’s still- …alive.”

His gaze had landed on Jack, hunched over the banisher with his shoulders shaking as his brothers tried to get him to look at them.

“Jack,” Sarah hissed, “what do you feel?”

“Come on,” Charlie encouraged, rubbing Jack’s back. “Jackie, you’re okay, come on.”

“It’s- kind of…” Jack started, falling into a strained batch of giggles again. He lifted his head, fingers pressed to his temples and pained look on his face while a smile resided on his lips. He shook his head, laughing again. “Very.. happy. It’s happy, that kinda bubbly ecstatic feeling? You should…” 

Jack grinned, lopsided and loose, and David stepped back. They had to get him out of here.

“You should check- on the buyer,” he laughed, curling into himself. “You should- oh, man, you should–hahaha–check on the buyer…” 

“Fuck. Fuck,” Sarah breathed, hand on her sword. “Charlie, stay with Jack. You two, with me.”

David nodded, glancing at Anthony before casting his gaze at Jack once again. The boy couldn’t hold it in anymore, wheezing with delirious laughter as Charlie leaned against the bannister with his iron cane at the ready. David tore his eyes away, running after Sarah.

The noise, the music was present in David’s ears now without him even trying to concentrate, loud and repeating and quite beautiful. He gripped his forehead between his index finger and thumb, trying to silence it while he drew his pistol. Sarah kicked open the bedroom door, and the pretty music faded away from him. 

“Oh, shit,” Anthony sighed out, crossing over to the bed. A body laid there, with skin chilled and lips blued and eyes grayed. “Well, there’s our buyer. How’d Jack know by a feeling?”

“And why would a ghost in a music box be happy to kill?” Sarah frowned. “Spirits don’t often know they’re killing others, that’s…”

And then noise as a whole left completely, David’s eyes falling on an object on the dresser as the world fell into static silence. It was ornate, rectangular, with run-down gold moldings on its edges and glossed rose along its top and sides. He stepped towards it, wanting to investigate the rest of it. Look at it, look into it. Wanting to open it, wanting to hear it again, so pretty and soft...

“-avid!”

He winced at the surge of live sounds- walls creaking, Sarah’s voice, her feet on the carpet, the clink of Anthony’s pistols in their holsters. Something was in his hands, rectangular, and he could hear Jack’s laughter shriek in amusement from down the hall.

“Don’t open it,” she was saying, her eyes wide. Anthony was still by the bed, hands by his hips, fingers spread. “David. Don’t. Just give it to me.”

David’s gaze dropped to what was in his hands, the pretty music box occupying his vision again. All he had to do was tug his finger towards himself, and he’d hear the song again. That was all he had to do. 

“No,” he said suddenly, though his grip tightened on it.

“No?” Anthony scoffed, shifting on his feet a bit- a more active stance. “For the know-it-all, you sure are stupid. Drop it, Jacobs. Now.”

“All we have to do is get it in the iron sack,” Sarah said softly, shooting Anthony a look. “David, just let go, and I’ll put it in. Don’t listen to whatever you’re hearing–”

“I’m not hearing anything,” he interjected. “I can’t hear it, it’s in my head, Saz, so if I just- if I open it then it could counter it–”

“No way,” Anthony said, shaking his head. “It’s like Charlie said. The more of us there are the easier we wind up dead, so don’t try shit to make that true.”

“But what if- if it could counter what Jack’s going through too?” David tried. “He’s sick with it, it’s contained in him right now, right? If we open it, we can release it.”

“You don’t know what you’re saying right now,” Sarah said, her voice the material of her weapon. David watched her hands take hold of the box in his grasp. “You’re not in your right mind, Ach. Let go.”

“Once it’s open, we can put it in the bag,” David scoffed. “That’ll make sure the spirit stays trapped and Jack and I will be fixed-”

She tugged it, like they were seven years old again, and David tugged it back.

“Jesus christ,” Anthony muttered. Swiftly, he pulled out a pistol, David glancing up to see the circular, hollow barrel of it.

“You’re insane,” David scoffed. 

“That’d be you,” Anthony sneered. “Drop it.”

“Fine.”

David raised his hands over his head, and the box went flying behind him. 

Sarah shoved him aside, Anthony raced around the bed, and David watched as it hit the ground.

A bright, tinkling sound filled the room as Anthony drew both his guns and Sarah raised her sword, both stepping back as a flickering shape rose into the air. David’s brain felt noisy, but… grounded. Clearer, feeling a bit sick though present. 

“She’s in a fuckin’ tutu,” Anthony sputtered out, eyes wide. David didn’t have the clearest sight when it came to spirits’ physical forms, only a flicking outline. “She’s a dancer, and… she’s smiling.”

And Jack’s laughing hadn’t stopped.

[rickie-the-storyteller]

WIP Wthursday Tag

Thank you to @gummybugg for tagging me!

Here are the rules for this thing:

In a reblog (or new post/w rules attached) post up to five filenames of your WIPs, not titles, file names

Post a snippet from one of them. Snippet must be something you wrote in the last 7 days (we're posting progress here. If you haven't made any, go make some and come back to post!)

After you've posted, people can send you an ask with one of your file names. You must then write 3 sentences in that file. If the filename is one you can't share from, write 3 sentences on it anyway and then 3 more on another to share!

That's it! You can invite others to join in or just post. If you tag me in your post, I will send you an ask request.

So, without further ado, here are my WIPs!

"Steph's Crew"

"Five Seconds Flat"

"The Last Dance"

"Aurelian University" (AU)

(not sure of it counts, but) "The Emily and Jack Story". You know, from these two posts:

I came up with them by accident, and now I have ideas for their story all the time lol.

Here is a little snippet from AU. I haven't posted anything from that story yet.

__________

Zephyr's gaze fell on the harpist, her quick, nimble fingers gliding gracefully over the strings of her instrument. When she stopped to talk, she introduced herself to him, smiling warmly and politely giving him his name.

"Eurydice," he murmured to himself, enchanted by the lyrical sound of her name. It was a name that tasted like honey on his tongue, a name that transported him to a world of myths and legends, of gods and heroes. It was a powerful, almost magical sound that told epic tales of ancient Greek mythology, of heroes and heroines embarking on dangerous and wondrous adventures. He wondered if her music carried that same intensity and magic. It would certainly explain how captivating it was to hear through the window…

Eurydice. Such a name! Zephyr couldn't help but be struck by its uniqueness and beauty.

They quickly fell into easy conversation, the notes of her music drifting around them like a magical aura. Zephyr soon discovered that she was a music student here. As they began to converse, it quickly became apparent that they shared a love of storytelling and adventure. Eurydice's music seemed to weave intricate tales, transporting Zephyr to far-off lands and distant times. It was as if her fingers were magic, conjuring up images and emotions that he had never experienced before.

They went on to explore the campus together, and Zephyr found himself feeling more and more at ease in her company. Their conversation flowed effortlessly, as if they were old friends reunited after years apart. It was a strange feeling, but one that he cherished.

Eurydice pointed out the various buildings and landmarks, sharing fascinating anecdotes about the college's history and its notable alumni. Zephyr was mesmerized by her storytelling, her voice rich with emotion and passion.

Their rapport was just so easy, as if they had known each other for years. Zephyr felt a strange sense of kinship with Eurydice, as if they shared a common bond that transcended time and space.

It was during this idyllic excursion that Zephyr noticed a flyer advertising a job as a janitor at the college. His eyes lit up at the mention of free tuition, a prospect that had seemed unattainable until now.

__________

These are the first two main characters to get introduced to the story. They become friends super fast, and basically remain tight throughout, which is good. (Can't say the same about many of the others, tho)

To be completely honest, this is something I've had for a while... but I've made the most recent changes to it like yesterday, so I think it still counts. Kind of.

Here are some people I'm going to tag to do this next (but it's totally up to you): @rubywrite, @winterandwords, @soph1333, @amugoffandoms, @pennywaltzy

(But anybody that wants to try this out can do it.😊 )

[merrybandofmurderers]

i dont remember if i've shared this already, but if i've forgotten, hopefully y'all have too. anyway, this is a future snippet from the pavellan fic. yuo ends up wandering in to one of dorian's dreams thanks to the anchor

(cw mention of slavery)

Dorian sat in his room, glaring sullenly out the window—the window his father had barred and warded to keep him trapped. It had been days now, and he was growing restless. All he could do was order the slaves to bring him more books and wine. At this rate, he would turn into his mother.

Dorian grimaced at the thought. He had not seen his mother in months, not even since returning home. A slave had informed him that Mistress Aquinea had retired to their summer home to “recuperate”, though did not specify as from what.

Well, it was likely to do with Dorian’s most recent scandal. His father was properly pissed this time, as evidenced by keeping Dorian “confined” until a solution could be found—whatever that meant. Perhaps his father intended to induct him into the army.

In truth, Dorian probably could sneak out if he wanted, but… he had never seen his father so enraged before; the man could barely stand to look at him. Alexius was no longer an option, Dorian had nowhere else to go, and worse…

When Dorian did not distract himself, his thoughts immediately turned to Rilienus. The worst was not knowing. He had heard nothing about what was happening outside his room.

He looked to the empty wine bottle and considered calling for another when a panel in the wall slid open. It was the servant’s entrance, connected to the narrow walkways that allowed slaves to move through the manor unnoticed.

In the doorway stood a young elf boy that Dorian did not recognize. His chin-length hair was bright as a burning sunset, and instead of the slave’s uniform in Pavus House colors, he wore a simple tunic and breeches with patched knees. Perhaps the boy was newly acquired; it might explain why he was dressed so.

“Yes? Are you lost?”

The boy met his eyes, which shocked Dorian nearly as much as what he said: “You shouldn’t be here.”

“Ex-excuse me?”

He held his hand out to Dorian. “Come with me.” His voice was plaintive, but his expression determined. “You don’t need to be here for what comes next.”

Dorian took his hand. The elf boy turned and led him into the walkway. They immediately began to climb a stone staircase. Unless his mother had done renovations, Dorian knew no such staircase existed in his childhood home. It wasn’t even Tevinter style.

It occurred to Dorian that he was dreaming, and the elf boy was possibly a spirit or demon. When he looked down, his hand held nothing but air. He was alone.

Dorian’s steps did not falter, and he continued to climb. There was a growing feeling of… familiarity. The steps turned and he passed a window—through it, a clear blue sky and snow-capped peaks. He remembered… he was in Skyhold, and he knew exactly where this staircase led. The expected wooden door appeared around the next turn, and Dorian pushed it open.

His eyelids fluttered open, as the bed shifted underneath him. In the low light of the fire, he saw Lavellan sitting at the end of the bed, sheets tangled around his waist.

“Amatus?” he asked, voice scratchy from sleep.

There was a sharp intake of breath, then Yuo looked at Dorian over his shoulder with a stricken expression.

Panic ignited, burning away the lingering vestiges of sleep, as Dorian pushed himself to sit up. “Yuo? What’s wrong?” He put a hand on his lover’s back, his muscles rigid under Dorian’s touch.

Yuo bit his lip and looked down at his lap where his hands rested. The Anchor winked at them until Yuo closed his fist around it.

“I haven’t told you, but the Anchor—I don’t know how—but it weakens the Veil to such an extent that I can… Dream. As somniari do. Solas has been giving me advice, but I don’t know how to control it. Sometimes when I dream, I... wander. And I stumble onto things.”

Confusion gave way to foreboding.

Yuo ducked his head, hair falling like a curtain to obscure his face. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to see.”

“How—how much?” Dorian rasped.

“Things are… warped in the Fade. I don’t always see things in chronological order, or I see a latter event occurring just as an earlier one is.”

Yuo knew. Kaffas, Yuo knew. Of course, he had already known what Dorian’s father attempted, but not the details. Cole hadn’t managed to reveal that. Yet.

“You don’t have to talk about,” Yuo insisted. But he still wouldn’t look Dorian in the eye.

@mrs-theirin, @gaysolavellan, @calicostorms, @fade-and-loathing-in-thedas, @transfenris-truther

[kwistowee]

So your Witcher content came across my dash. And I just have to say… you’re allowed to edit screenshots. You can do that. It’s okay. You don’t have to pretend you’re painting something.

But you know what? I’ll give you the benefit of the doubt. I read through your two posts “detailing” your process and found nothing of actual substance, but I’m still left curious. Your textures are so intriguing! What brushes do you use? (I understand that you employ a variety of programs, but surely you have certain brushes you use each time? Your style is very consistent.) You said that your approach changes depending on the picture and how you want it to look when finished, which is understandable. I’m a Witcher fan personally, so I’d love to know your specific process for creating that one! Some programs even make time-lapse videos automatically, like Procreate! If you don’t have one for the Witcher piece, I’d still be interested in seeing another! I’ve been trying to get more into digital painting myself recently, and I love watching people’s work come to life! I hope you have a great day and continue making original, true art that makes you happy. Or, who knows, maybe you never started :)

Boy, this got under your skin, didn’t it? It’s very clear from your message that you have already made up your mind, and no benefit of the doubt has actually been extended. This isn’t an ask sent out of curiosity; you’re calling me out as a liar, and you seem certain I will have absolutely nothing to offer to prove otherwise. I’m afraid this response will be frustrating; and if you didn’t mean to come across in a condescending, belittling, passive-aggressive way, I apologize for the directness of some of my response.

You are not entitled to anything in relation to any content creator on this or any other platform, nor is anyone else.

I have always been very introverted and intensely private (online and irl), and those inclinations extend to my creative endeavors. It has never occurred to me to try to screen record or capture my process for any piece I have created in any medium. This is something I do with snippets of spare time as a way to wind down. It’s private, and relaxing, and just for me.

I’ve never had any intention of broadcasting how I draw, paint, gif, edit, or write. I’ve never made tutorials for any of those things. I don’t have records I can produce that will show each step I take and prove how I have done things in which programs. And I’m not obligated to do so. No artist is. Some artists choose to do that, and they are absolutely welcome to do so. I enjoy watching those demonstrations as well. That may be enjoyable and fulfilling for them to produce on top of the art they create, but I would find that time consuming and incredibly stressful. People on the Internet tend to be very comfortable blatantly criticizing complete strangers (the tone of your ask is a perfect example of that), so I prefer not open myself up to anyone and everyone nitpicking and critiquing every move I make and questioning my choices every step of the way. My creative endeavors are things I do just for me and occasionally I share the results here. I’ve always aimed for consistency. Producing things as close as possible to the original reference and making things look as realistic as possible has always been my goal (examples of that are here).

My previous posts concerning my painting process are brief. They were intended to be concise replies to questions that weren’t specific in the first place, and my replies were never meant to be actionable tutorials. If the pieces I’ve painted were actually just edits of screenshots, I would have said so because I do edit photos and post them here as well.

It’s fine that you don’t believe me. And short of producing a time-lapse video capturing me working on a piece, it seems like you won’t be convinced anyway, and that’s ok with me. That’s never going to happen; I’m one of those 80s kids who still prefers to write things down on a pad with a pen. And I’m not going to attempt to override my introverted nature just to hopefully show 1 faceless person they were a bit hasty.

Respectful behavior matters and often produces better results than a negative approach does. Busting through my door and demanding that I produce receipts that meet your criterion tanked the likelihood that I’d be forthcoming; a less abrasive approach would have inspired an entirely different reply. Be kind to those you encounter; you never know what battles they are already fighting or what pain they are working through. This is the kind of message that prompts people to turn off the anonymous function, and in the case of those who share their art or writing or creativity in any form, stop sharing their work altogether. Going forward, you can ask these kinds of questions without being rude. And if you want to have this kind of conversation with someone, be courageous enough not to hide behind anonymity.

[16woodsequ]

Really looking forward to reading Therapy Works in full when you post it! Do you think you could put all the snippets you've shared, and pit them in chronological order? If not, that's okay too! Another snippet would be fine.

I'm looking forward to this one too! Especially since it will be the first fic of my with the terrible, horrible, no good, very bad cabin! (If you've seen my rants about that.)

Let me see if I can find all the snippets I've posted!

It is obvious to him that Steve has issues, and that he isn’t dealing with them. And it is also obvious that he probably won’t start dealing with them without some helpful nudging in the right direction. He, himself, is all too familiar with that process. It had taken Rhodey and Pepper several years, (and then one solid putting-of-one’s-foot-down) before he had been convinced to give therapy a try.

He had done it though, because he had had friends to help get him onto that path.

Steve has… well, Steve has him now, apparently. Which is why he is now standing in front of his door, a pair ultra-waterproof boots in his hands.

...

“Whatz’ goin’ on?” Tony’s tongue feels a lump of clay. If it was an emergency JARVIS would just wake him up without worrying about Pepper, but for the life of him Tony can’t imagine another reason JARVIS would call him at four in the morning. “Captain Rogers wished to know if you were awake,” JARVIS responds smartly. “I shall inform him you are indeed conscious.” Huh? Tony pushes himself up in his bed, willing his brain to catch up. “Why’z he wanna know that?” “I believe,” JARVIS says, like he’s spelling out something achingly simple. “You once stated he could call you instead of utilising the gym.” ... Tony’s brain kickstarts and his eyes widen. “Wha—? Oh! Where is he?” JARVIS continues over him like he hadn’t said anything. “Captain Rogers insisted on not disturbing you if you were not awake.” “Right, of course,” Tony mutters, shoving back his blankets and glancing briefly at Pepper to make sure she’s still asleep. It doesn’t surprise him one bit that Steve had added that limiter. It also doesn’t surprise him that JARVIS had found a way around it. ... Steve steps out and scans the room immediately, locating Tony at his tinkering desk. He looks tired, shadows under his eyes and a drawn expression on his face. His hands are in two tight fists by his side, but Tony is glad to see they lack the bloodied bandages from last time. Steve pauses uncertainly on the threshold, his eyes flicking around nervously and Tony waves him inside. “Come’on in,” he says, hoping his bedraggled hair reads as creative-genius-at-work and not recently-awoken-by-a-robot. “I was just fiddling with a few things.” ... “I know it’s early,” Steve says suddenly. He holds himself stiffly, as though he isn’t quite sure he’s welcome yet. “I didn’t want to bother you.” Tony shakes his head. “No,” he says decisively. “I’m glad you called. I meant what I said last time, but I was worried you wouldn’t take me up on it.” Steve relaxes slightly, a small smile pulling at the corner of his mouth. “Well,” he says ruefully. “JARVIS did lock down the gym. And I figured you wanted the glass door to stay intact.” His shoulders roll in a shrug. “Guess JARVIS can be just as stubborn as me.” ... The mention of insane asylums sets the wheels in his brain in motion. If Steve wasn’t sure if sanatoriums were still a thing, did he think that asylums were too? Which is why, a few days after his early-morning movie night, Tony finds himself in his lab, several pages open in front of him as dives for the first time into what 1940s doctors actually thought about mental health.  It is all at once less bleak and more disheartening than he thought it would be. ... At the same time as these and other treatments like lobotomies were being experimented with, psychotherapy and occupational therapists were slowly being brought in. Tony isn’t sure how much of a comfort that is though, because Steve spent most of the 40s at war. If he heard much about ‘mental hygiene’ treatments back then, he doubts it was the brand new Freudian theories. And that leads him to another question. How much did Steve even know about these asylums, and how much of a concern were they for a man like him?

And a new one just for fun!

The more Tony thinks about it, the more he realises he has no idea how Steve actually learned everything he knows about the modern day. Part of him had always just assumed that SHIELD sat him down and laid it out for him, but even if that did happen, they could never have accounted for everything he needed to know.  Steve must have taught himself a lot of it alone.

[desolateice]

For the writing asks: 🥺🤡🛒🤲

🥺 Is there a certain type of moment or common interaction between your characters that never fails to put you in your feels? Grief, I recently wrote Johnny sitting at Mr. Miyagi's grave and I like cried through most of it. I'm tempted to cut it. 😂 Here's a clip.

"I mean I didn’t really try did I? I haven’t tried for anything in so long. Like truly try. Except this. Except the dojo and I’m not even good at it. Daniel’s better at it. All my kids, even Miguel likes him better. And I get it. Like what do I truly have to offer? When we go to the roots of it…Daniel’s roots are you and mine are…Kreese. I’d pick you any day too.”

Also just tender care. From the same WIP and same conversation with the grave, I have this.

"He held this umbrella over me and I saw on the ride back that he’d let the rain fall on him, and I’d never been so aware of how damn pretty he was. Like on a level I knew he was pretty, but damn. And I didn’t know how to handle it."

Love and care, healing, sort of understanding one another or trying. That kind of stuff. 🤡 What's a line, scene, or exchange you've written that made you laugh? Here's part of something I cut from Feast for Fools:

“And you’ve checked? He hasn’t run off? Mr. LaRusso didn’t come and scare him off did he?” Emile walked across the room and pushed open a window. “Careful! Light on your feet like a cobra!” “Yes Sensei!” “Cobras don’t have feet sensei!” “Of course not Demetri, thank you, but be careful nonetheless.” “I’m just checking…sometimes you don’t know.” “I have seen a real cobra and I know what feet are. But I don’t know why you’re worrying, you schemed up the terrible community service project.” “It’s a great service project sir!” “You show up unannounced once a week.” “Yes, to try and get you into the right decade. It’s been hard work! But you sent a text that wasn’t all in caps yesterday.” “Did you ever think that I sent them in all caps for a reason?” “I thought the key was just stuck,” Demetri said. “Sensei has typed up a totally normal message before," Miguel said. “He has?” “Yeah, he caught up with Ali, and wrote like ten pages. I told him it was too much, uh since then it’s been all caps.” “It sounds like he’s talking in all caps," Cheyenne said with a frown. “Is he always that loud?”

[if it wasn't clear, Demetri schemed up for a school requirement that he had to do community service for like a national scholars thing to help the elderly, but it's just Johnny, so like once a week he harasses Johnny into learning something.]

🛒 What are some common things you incorporate in your fics? Themes, feels, scenes, imagery, etc. This is one of those questions where as soon as someone asks you forget all of them. 😂 You might be able to answer that better for me. I think hurt/comfort, healing, loneliness and found family. Food. Flowers. I tend to want them to be comfortable enough to tease and laugh with each other during a 🍆🍑 time. So usually there's a dumb choice in there somewhere that they can laugh about. But I also want them to be nice to each other generally. So like comfortable loving teasing. 🤲 Would you please share a snippet of a wip? Oh boy which one should I give you? How about the one I made a deal with Cookie about? 🐔

Daniel didn’t know what to say as he limped towards the other end of the room only for the teacher to spot him and tell him they had assigned seats. And his was right next to Johnny. Alphabetical order. Johnny looked so stunned to see him. Blue eyes looked at him wide-eyed as Daniel limped over. He pulled out the chair for Daniel whose arms were full and Daniel was so shocked and then Johnny seemed so embarrassed that he’d done that that he turned a bright tomato red and looked away. The face he gave in the next class they had together where they were put next together made Daniel laugh. The sort of stunned shock. And then the third. And a fourth. They had six classes out of eight together that semester. And every damn one of them put them right next together. In the fifth one Daniel slapped Johnny’s shoulder and grinned wide, “Long time no see Johnny,” he’d said while Johnny groaned. “Miss me?” was what he said in the sixth class gently nudging Johnny’s shoulder, leaning in close and watching him turn that bright red again. He’d been playing with fire, but a pink Johnny was better than a broken defeated Johnny.

Thank you for the ask 💖, you can find the post with others here.

[camgoloud]

🌿💝💥💌

🌿 how does creating make you feel?

oh god. well honestly i feel like it depends very strongly on what exactly it IS that i’m creating… sometimes when i’m writing a character study or an intimate moment i feel intensely vulnerable and open, which is of course both terrifying and extremely cathartic… and then sometimes when i am writing humorous scenes or Cursed Concepts i feel so evil and wicked and pleased with myself the whole time. so which emotions i'm experiencing while i’m actually in the moment of creation can really be all over the map… but of course i can say that once i’ve actually finished creating something i always feel proud of myself! even at times when the piece didn’t come together as well as i was hoping it would in the end, there’s definitely something to be said just for that pure “oh i made a WHOLE NEW THING” sense of satisfaction :)

💝 what is a fic that got a different response than you were expecting?

i’ll be honest, i really thought that Do my friends think I’m dying? (or do I just need to go to sleep?) would get about 20 hits total… i mean, it’s a recursive fanfic (inspired by the excellent good old fashioned lover boy) about an extremely minor ted lasso character with an unintelligible summary and the tags “yes I’ve written a reddit thread as a fic” “sorry except i’m not”; i was really just writing it to have a good time (and oh my god, did i have the BEST time…). but the response to it was actually quite warm, and MUCH larger than i was expecting! and not to brag lmao but i got Many compliments in the comments section about how convincing my various insufferable reddit personalities were… i guess i’ve found my calling! i’ve been meaning to write another reddit fic ever since, actually—it really was a blast

💥 find your least kudos'd fic - say something wonderful about it.

least kudos’d by raw numbers would be my most recent one, Philosophical Shifts in Teixcalaanli Xenocontact! (although i wouldn’t necessarily call it my least warmly received—the kudos-to-hits ratio on that one is actually fairly good, it’s just a very new fic for a very small fandom! but i didn’t go through and calculate K:H ratios on everything, so i’ll just talk about this one.) i think that with this fic i really nailed the voice of the narrator, three seagrass—from her speech patterns to the way she thinks about the world; her love for poetry to her partially-worked-through tendency to exoticize the foreign and the new to the detriment of everyone involved. she was a lot of fun to write and i’d love to try my hand at her again soon!

💌 share something with us about an up-and-coming work (WIP) that has you excited!

agh okay i’m always the WORST person in the world to talk to about wips because i will happily spin you elaborate tales about all the Concepts i’m currently working on and then you will just never hear about them again… but here’s a snippet from something for stranger things that I’ve been tinkering with off and on for AGES and really do hope to get finished… sometime in the next few years… i’m calling it “things that we were working on,” and em, this one goes right out to you: you know exactly what you did. <3

“Hold the phone,” Eddie interrupts, earning himself a glare and yet another eyebrow twitch, but he doesn’t even care to savor the rise he’s getting out of Higgins this time, because he is actually, genuinely desperate for an answer to the question he’s about to ask. “You’re telling me Steve Harrington is gonna be here? In detention?” This day really is just shaping up to be something else, isn’t it. Steve Harrington in detention? Hell had better not have frozen over yet; Eddie hates the fucking cold. “What’d he do?” 

Or, probably more accurately: what’d he do that they didn’t let him just get away with this time?

[fic writing asks here!]