#I was a little hyper when I wrote this lol

[ellecdc]

Surprise! We're Making Love

6.8k words

this is my first real like... real smut fic? so do take that into consideration [and please be nice to me lol] but also feel free to send me a message if you have any feedback or pointers.

this is a fic based on this trope that was sent to me by @bobluvbot like a million weeks ago and became my hyper fixation for far too long. I finally decided to put it into words. thanks to @unstablereader for championing me as I wrote this and convincing me it was decent enough to post lol

Remus Lupin x fem!reader

CW: smut, p in v sex, unprotected sex, coming inside of someone, AFAB reader, reader is a Pureblood Slytherin, has hair long enough for Rem to feel it on his shoulders when you're straddling him, reader has hair texture that sticks to you when wet, mentions of smoking weed and being high, mentions of drinking and alcohol, mentions of arranged marriages, use of mudblood and blood supremacy

Remus doesn’t know how exactly this thing started for him.

Perhaps it was the day after a full moon when he forgot to lock the door behind him to the Prefects Bathroom and you let yourself in, nearly fully stripped before you realised he was sitting in the steaming, bubbling pool-sized tub with a spliff hanging lazily from his mouth.

“Circe’s tits!” You screeched as you hastily pulled up your towel to keep your modesty. “You didn’t think to alert me to your presence, Lupin?” You sneered half-heartedly at him as you tried to regain your composure.

“Sorry.” Remus chuckled, voice gravelly from a mixture of last night’s howling and tonight’s smoking. “My brain is moving a little slowly right now.”

You looked between him and the spliff and sighed. “Think you’ll be much longer?” You asked him quietly, cautiously, reticently. He wasn’t sure he’d ever seen you look so dejected.

Slytherin princess; though you never really let that dictate how you treated people, just that it levelled you with a certain notoriety within the school. You were the only one who could talk sense into Barty Crouch Junior; Pandora Rosier’s biggest defender and advocate; Snape, Mulciber, and Avery’s biggest adversary; the one who encouraged Regulus Black to reach out to his estranged older brother; and the least likely to enact revenge on the Marauder’s for their pranks.

Though Remus had never shared more than a few words with you in passing, he knew a lot about you. In addition to the aforementioned qualities, you were a Pureblood, the eldest daughter and heiress to your family’s name and fortune, Prefect, received top marks in Charms and Transfiguration, and hated the Sacred Twenty-Eight.

Knowing all of that made Remus rather rueful that he hadn’t spoken to you before now.

“Listen, this tub is nearly the size of an Olympic swimming pool.” Remus started, causing you to furrow your brows in confusion. “It’s big.” He clarified. “I don’t mind...sharing if you wouldn’t be too uncomfortable; otherwise, I’ll pack up and leave it to you.”

He didn’t really want to leave; not whilst he was still nursing his post-moon hangover and the warm water was finally starting to relieve some of the tension in his bones. But you looked forlorn, and damn Remus and his bleeding heart, he’d give it up if you needed it.

“I don’t want to kick you out... you were here first.” You murmured, apparently weighing your options in your head.

“I will leave if you want, L/N, but I’m more than willing to share.”

You searched his eyes for what, Remus wasn’t sure, but you seemed to come to some decision. You threw your head back and let out a strangled groan which Remus was certain was more for dramatic effect than it was indicative of any real ire.

“Fine, turn around.”

Remus smirked at you and tried to ignore the protesting of his joints as he stood in the pool and turned to face the opposite wall, allowing you to drop the rest of your clothes and your towel and sink into the water.

“Okay...” You whispered quietly. “You can sit back down now; thank you.”

Perhaps it had begun then; he’d offered you a puff from his joint, causing you to move closer to him. He was a gentleman and avoided noticing the way your breasts sat high on your chest, buoyant in the bubbly and fragrant waters.

He ignored the feeling of your elbow brushing against his. He ignored the way your hair, damp from the steam and humidity, stuck against your skin. And he definitely ignored the way that as the weed started to affect you, you leaned your head onto his shoulder.

What he couldn’t ignore? When you asked him what you could do to help him.

“Help?” Remus asked you bemusedly, jostling his shoulder and forcing you to sit up and return his gaze.

“Yeah; you seem tense, stressed.”

Remus let out a confused chuckle from his nose. “That’s really not anything you need to worry about.”

You laughed back at him, nudging him with your elbow. “Lupin.” You chided. “You were willing to give up your private pool time, you’ve shared your weed with me, and you’ve let me intrude on your bath; let me worry about it.”

And he doesn’t know how you did it, he’s not even sure he remembers how the rest of the conversation went – one moment the two of you were sitting an entire swimming pool apart and pretending the other wasn’t there, and the next moment he was sitting on the edge of the pool with his hands tangled in your hair as you took him in your mouth.

“Christ, fuck, I’m gonna cum.” He tried warning you, tapping your shoulder to get your attention.

Like the watery siren that you were, all you did was moan and take him deeper, and in another moment, he was spilling down your throat.

Remus was sure he looked absolutely wrecked; naked, soaking, exhausted, a few fresh wounds from last night, and his permanent eye bags a more dramatic purple today on account of his lack of sleep last night.

Not you though; somehow even though you’d just done all the work, you looked ethereal. Wet hair pooling in the water around you as you sunk into the suds up to your collarbones, your lips swollen and glistening from your fantastic work if you asked Remus, and eyes a mischievous magnet nearly luring Remus back into the pool completely against his will.

“Godric, you’re good at that.” He breathed embarrassingly. Thankfully, you only laughed at with him.

“I’m sure you meant that as a compliment, Lupin; but it sort of sounds like you’re calling me a whore.”

Remus cackled at that, thankful that his time in the water eased the soreness in his ribs before doing so.

“If you give me a few moments, I’ll return the favour dove.”

“Don’t worry about it.” You offered, moving back to the other side of the pool to retrieve the book you’d deserted in favour of pot, and then in favour of cock. “I’ll just take an I.O.U.”

Or maybe it started at the Ravenclaw afterparty following their win against Hufflepuff. You showed up with your friends fashionably late and clearly having pre-gamed to some extent if Barty’s uncoordinated movements were anything to go by.

He noticed you every once in a while, flitting around the party with various friends, dancing to various tunes, participating in various games over conversations; but something was different about you. You weren’t as...glowy.

Your smile never met your eyes, and your laughs weren’t carefree – not like they were in the tub. Not like they ought to be.

But hey, you helped him when he needed it, and he did technically owe you.

He brushed past you and gently pulled on your elbow as he continued moving. When you turned back to see what had happened, he nodded toward the exit.

He didn’t bother turning around to see if you were following him, he just carried on down the stairs of Ravenclaw tower before turning the corner to an empty corridor.

“Oi, Lupin; your legs are longer than mine. Slow down!” You called. 

He didn’t realise at that time how much it meant to him that you had followed; hindsight being 20/20, and all.

“Where are we going?” You queried as you caught up and walked in step with him.

“You’ll see.” He said simply, cutting across the hall and opening the door to an empty classroom.

“Going to teach me how to translate Ancient Runes, Lupin?” You joked, though your affect was clearly lacking.

“I’m going to help.” He responded simply, leaning backwards against the professor’s desk.

“Help?”

“Right.”

You smirked and raised a singular perfectly manicured eyebrow at him, looking him up and down with a suggestive glance.

“What exactly are you to help me with?”

“You seem worried, tense.” He repeated your exact words from the tub a little over a week ago.

You offered him a half smile that, once again, never met your eyes. “That’s not something you need to worry about.”

He offered you a soft smile in return. “I do owe you, though.”

Remus doesn’t know what it was that convinced you to accept his offer. One moment he was leaning casually against the professor’s desk as you watched him warily from the door to the classroom, and the next moment he had you splayed out on the desk before him with the skirt of your dress bunched up around your waist and his head between your legs.

Now, it’s important to note that Remus is a humble and modest person. In fact, he’s really quite self-conscious. He didn’t come from a notable family and compared to his friends he was basically a pauper, he was scarred and tall and lanky, and due to his lycanthropy, he avoided meaningful relationships; meaning that whilst his friends all enjoyed relationships and situationships, he stayed religiously single.

All that being said, there was something Remus knew to be true that he felt worth bragging about.

He was fucking good in bed.

So his ego was properly stroked when you threw your head back so hard that it made a painful whacking sound against the wood of the desk with just the first stripe of his tongue through your folds.

Like a man starved, he buried his face between your legs and hardly ever came back up for air. He pulled your hips flush to his chest with your legs thrown over his shoulders and his arms hugging your thighs that he used as earmuffs.

Remus could easily call this one of his new favourite places to be, especially with the sinful sounds escaping your mouth.

He used his thumb to tease your clit, thrusting his tongue in your hole a few times before bringing it back out to run through your lips.

“Oh, Merlin!” You cried, causing him to chuckle, which caused you to flinch slightly at the feeling of his cold breath against your cunt.

“Come now, L/N; you know that’s not my name.”

You let out another cry as he wasted no time diving back in, his nose rubbing at your clit as his tongue continued its assault.

Remus’ efforts were rewarded in the form of you cumming on his face and your body falling limp below him.

He allowed you to catch your breath as he fought to catch his own, ignoring his knees crying in protest from having spent the last however long supporting his weight on the hard stone floor.

“Oh gods.” You breathed finally, opening your eyes and stealing a shy glance at Remus, still stationed near your core.

He smiled wolfishly at you. “Better?”

You laughed; a real, hard laugh that had been missing from you all night. “Much.” You agreed readily, accepting his outstretched hand and sitting up on the edge of the desk and pushing your skirt back down to cover yourself. “Thank you, Lupin.”

Remus shrugged nonchalantly as he pulled out a cigarette and lit it with a snap of his fingers, pushing open a window with a flick of his wand. “What are friends for?”

You snorted inelegantly; a far cry from the proper Pureblood heiress you’d been raised to be as you pulled your panties back on and took careful, albeit slightly wobbly, steps to join him at the window.

“Are we friends now?”

“Were we not friends before?” He countered, offering you a drag from his smoke that you easily accepted. He was sure his lips, tongue, and now the end of his cigarette still tasted like you.

“I didn’t think your kind was supposed to be friends with mine.” You offered, not looking at him as you passed the cigarette back.

“Blood status, really L/N?”

You scoffed derisively. “Please, Lupin. Give me some credit.”

It seemed to Remus that you looked almost hurt at his insinuation.

“I meant Gryffindor’s and Slytherin’s.”

“Perhaps we can be the first.”

“Do many of your friends see you naked, Lupin?”

Remus grimaced at that. “Honestly? More than I’d like, yes.”

And there it was again, that uninhibited laugh. Remus felt vindicated in his task for this evening.

“Alright, friends then.” You agreed, reaching out for his cigarette and taking a long drag before returning it to him. “Let me know when you might need my help again, Lupin.”

“Likewise.”

And maybe it was the day that he had Avery pinned against the wall by the collar of his shirt for calling a first year Hufflepuff a Mudblood.

There was blood dripping from Remus’ nose onto the collar of his uniform shirt from an elbow to the face as he spat various threats promises of pain and maiming, when he felt a gentle hand on the small of his back.

Due to the tension radiating through Remus’ body considering how close it was to the moon, his first reaction was to throw an elbow behind him. He thanked every deity possible that you were shorter than him when you ducked expertly to dodge his assault.

“Let him go.” You said simply.

Remus felt his brows furrow as he let out a protesting grumble.

“McGonagall is coming.” You continued.

Remus looked from you back to Avery who was now smirking at him. If Remus left now, Avery would tell McGonagall what Remus did; if Remus stayed, he could tell McGonagall what Avery had said.

“He won’t say anything.” You argued - as if you had heard Remus’ internal conundrum - causing Avery’s face to fall and both boys to whip their heads to you.

“And why the bloody hell won’t I, L/N?” Avery spat.

Your eyes moved from Remus’ to Avery’s where they took on a horrifyingly cold quality, no doubt the result of your cold and indifferent parents raising you like a proper Pureblood heir.

“Because I know where you sleep.” You spat lowly.

Remus watched as Avery fought to remain defiant, but as he heard the sound of McGonagall’s footsteps approaching, let out a frustrated groan.

“Fine. Sod off.” He barked, pushing Remus away from him roughly and stalking off towards the Slytherin dungeons.

Remus angrily picked up his book bag and began stalking down the corridor in the opposite way.

His blood was boiling, the tension in his shoulders and neck was starting to give him a headache and every step he took aggravated the matter.

He turned hastily around a corner when the strap of his book bag was pulled off his shoulder.

“What?” He hissed when he turned to see you with the other end of his strap in your hand.

“This way.”

“L/N.”

“Lupin.” You countered severely, voice intoning no nonsense.

Remus allowed you to drag him by his bookbag like a dog down a seemingly abandoned corridor and into an empty classroom before you locked the doors and threw up a silencing charm.

“What are you doing?” He muttered admittedly far more petulantly than you presently deserved from him.

“Helping.” You answered simply as you began undoing your school tie.

“I’m fine.” He spat, plopping himself down roughly into a chair. 

“Right.” You said sarcastically. “And you wouldn’t have continued to punch the first arse you saw on your way back to Gryffindor, huh?” You asked as you started pulling off your top and exposing your lacy black bra. “And I may not be an expert, but you’re a long way from Gryffindor tower which means your chances of running into an arse were really rather high.”

Remus held his hands up to his face and pinches at his temples, trying to stave off the incoming migraine and the overwhelming urge to tell you to fuck off, which he knew he really didn’t want to do. 

Suddenly you were in nothing but your bra and panties, kneeling before him and fussing with his belt.

“This really isn’t necessary, L/N.” He offered without much fervour. 

“What are friends for?” You asked quietly as you pulled his belt from the loops of his trouser.

“You don’t have to.”

“Do you want me to stop?” You asked pointedly, pausing your movements and looking up at him. You were giving him a choice; an out. Did he want to blow off some steam, or did he want to spend the rest of his day pissed off and tense?

Did he want you to stop?

“No.” He admitted.

Your eyes softened, though everything else about your face remained impassive as you undid the button and zip to his trousers and began encouraging them down his legs.

He decided to give up on his temper tantrum and assist you in the unenviable task of disrobing him and pulled you up into his lap.

“I don’t need anything.” You squeaked as he had you straddle his lap, your hair falling over your shoulders and tickling his own from your place above him.

“I’m not going to get in a fight and be a selfish lover all in the same day, L/N.” He said in faux admonishment. “Friends look after each other, yeah?”

And he’s not sure what swayed you. One moment he had you perched precariously above him as he gently nipped at your neck, and the next moment he was brutally thrusting up into you with no lack of desperation. 

“Fuckin’ hells you feel amazing.” He grunted as you mewled above him, eyebrows furrowed and eyes screwed shut causing Remus to worry momentarily.

“Are you okay?” He asked breathlessly. You moaned in response and dropped your chin onto his shoulder.

“Hey, dove, you okay?” He asked again, pulling you from him and slowing his movements.

“Don’t you dare fucking stop, Lupin.” You barked before you pulled his face to yours by the ends of his hair for a searing kiss. 

He grinned somewhat maniacally into the kiss and lifted you from his lap as he stood with his cock still lodged deep within you and perched you on the edge of the desk.

“You’re a bossy girl, aren’t you?” He taunted, pushing roughly into you from this new angle and causing you to cry out. “You like telling men what to do, dove?”

You gasped as Remus found the magic little spot he’d been searching for and he doubled down in his thrusts with renewed vigour. 

“That’s okay.” He continued, brushing a strand of hair away from your face that had gotten stuck in some of your lipgloss. “I like being told what to do.”

“Please! Please, please please.” You whined, a pretty sheen of sweat dusted your skin and began to pool on the divot of your collarbone. 

“Fuck, fuck, fuck me.”

“Working on it.”

You were apparently coherent enough to laugh at that which was torture for Remus who was currently hanging on by a fucking thread as your giggles caused your cunt to clench torturously around his cock.

“Come on, pretty girl. Come on, cum for me, yeah? You’re close; I can tell. Cum for me.” He started chanting, moving his hand that was currently holding your knee up near his ribs to rub circles around your clit.

“Cum for me, L/N.”

“Oh fuck.” You shouted as your orgasm tore through you; Remus felt almost sick from the effort not to follow you over the edge immediately, wanting to help you ride out yours to fruition, but your walls pulsating around him left him very little control over the matter.

“Fuck.” Remus growled, and unfortunately that was the only warning you got before slammed into you once more, twice more, and was then spilling inside you causing your cunt to grow impossibly more wet and warm.

You let out a desperate breath and fell forward into Remus’ chest; he was ashamed to admit how much he relished in the intimacy - ignoring the very intimate act that had already taken place. 

“Fuck Lupin, you’re an animal.” You breathed out with a laugh.

Remus let out a surprised bark of laughter as he looked down at you.

“You have no idea.”

And if it wasn’t any of those, perhaps it was a few weeks later, when Remus saw a regal looking owl fly into the Great Hall over the Slytherin table, and with a grand war cry dropped an important looking letter in front of you, causing the rest of your table to fall silent. 

Remus watched as Regulus Black’s jaw tightened and Barty Crouch Junior’s spoon fell back into his porridge as they watched you open it.

Remus watched as all colour seemed to drain from your face and your jaw fell slack, though not open.

The rest of the Hall seemed completely unaware of the turmoil taking place over at the Slytherin table; everyone but Remus and, apparently, Sirius Black. 

“Shit.” Sirius whispered under his breath quietly, alerting neither Peter nor James who were currently in a heated debate about whether pumpkin pasties or sugar quills were the better treat from Honeydukes.

“What is it?” Remus asked him quietly. Sirius seemed nearly surprised that Remus had noticed, though schooled his expression quickly.

“Marriage announcement, she’s been betrothed.” He sneered the word, his nose actually wrinkling in disgust. “‘Sold off’ is a more appropriate term. It’s too bad, I quite liked her.”

Remus didn’t really like the feeling that settled in his stomach when he considered you being married off, but he didn’t have time to think on it too hard before he watched you storm over to Avery, Mulciber, and Snape before grabbing the former by the nape of his neck and slamming his head down into the table.

Remus was up and over to you in an instant with Sirius close behind, beaten only by Barty and Regulus who had the advantage of proximity.

“You miserable fucking wanker! You’ll fucking rot for this!” You screamed as Regulus fought and nearly lost in his battle of holding you back as Barty began sparring with your newfound enemy.

“I’ll fucking kill you for this Avery! You watch your fucking back!” You screeched. Regulus - for what reason, Remus couldn’t know - thought now a good moment to put you down, and as you launched yourself once again for what he was sure was Avery’s jugular, Remus threw you over his shoulder and took off out of the Great Hall.

“Put me down!” You shouted.

“No.” 

“Fuck off, Lupin.” You cried, grabbing at his jumper and slamming your fists into his lower back as he took the stairs two at a time. 

“You’re fine, L/N.”

You squealed and began kicking your legs out, causing him to use both arms to pin them to his torso.

“Stop it.”

“Put me down!”

“Stop it. Stop fighting me.”

“I hate you.”

“That’s fine.” He said, though it felt anything but. But he knew, you weren’t really mad at him, you perhaps weren’t even really mad at Avery.

“I hate you.” You said quietly this time.

“That’s alright.”

You had given up on your fight by the time Remus got to his destination. He was sure his shoulder in your stomach was causing you issues and the blood had to have been rushing to your head, but you remained placid as he hoisted you back up right and set you down on the floor of the Astronomy tower. 

Your face was wet and your hair was a mess as you took gasping breaths. 

This was beyond Remus’ wheelhouse when it came to you; he was good for eating you out, blowing off some steam, quickies, and the odd toke or two, but this? This was beyond his area of expertise. 

He decided to sit down beside you - both your backs pressed against the cold stone of the castle in a way he was sure felt good against your skin that was sizzling and crackling with fury. He didn’t say anything; there was nothing to say, nothing that he could say, and nothing he’d really know to say at a moment like this. Perhaps he should have left you to your friends; to the Purebloods who got it. Though, Regulus seemed willing to let you help Barty kill Avery, so perhaps it was better that you were up here with him instead. 

That's what he’d tell himself for now.

It could have been minutes or even an hour before you finally took a deep, shuddering breath.

“Why’d you do that?”

“Do what?” Remus asked quietly.

“Stop me.”

“You stopped me first.”

You let that sit in the air as you looked out into the horizon. 

“What do you need, L/N? What… what can I do?” He begged desperately.

Remus was certain the entire school could hear the sound of his heart breaking at the devastated expression that graced your face when you turned to make eye contact with him; your eyes seemed to beg Remus for something but he couldn’t decipher what it was that you were asking of him.

“I want to…to forget.” You sobbed. “I want to not think, I want to turn it all off for a fucking, god’s damned minute. I want it all to stop.”

“Okay.” He offered readily.

“I want it to stop.”

“Okay.” He repeated, taking your hand in his and giving it a gentle squeeze.

“I’m right here.” He encouraged you. “Tell me what you need.”

“I need to forget.”

“Okay.” Remus said again, pulling at your hand and encouraging you into his lap. “I’m right here; take what you need.”

And Remus wasn’t sure what went through your mind as you searched between his hazel eyes. One moment you were carefully perched above him in his lap; tear tracks staining your cheeks and eyes full of sorrow. And in the next moment, your uniform skirt was hiked up and panties pulled to the side, and Remus’ belt was undone and his trousers were pulled low around his thighs as you bounced up and down on his cock like it was the solution to all of life's problems.

Remus wished it were true, he really did. But if all he could do at this moment was help you turn your brain off and forget the unpleasantness waiting for you back in the castle for just a little bit, then that’s what he would do. 

You had your face shoved into his neck and he was quite sure you were biting down on the junction between his shoulder and his neck - in an attempt to quell your moans, your crying, or just out of frustration, Remus didn’t know, and quite frankly he didn’t care either way. You grinded down onto him and he felt you applying pressure to your clit against his pelvic bone, prompting him to start rubbing it with his thumb. 

“You can let go, gorgeous. No one’s here.” He whispered.

You bit down harder in response and began riding him with an air of desperation. 

“I’m right here.”

And then he felt it. First, he felt your tears fall onto his shoulder, then he felt your teeth break his skin, and finally he felt your walls clench around him.

You stayed latched onto him; your arms around his waist, your hands clenched into the fabric of his jumper, your teeth on his skin and your cunt on his cock as he thrusted up into you and found his own release with very little effort on account of the aftershocks still shuddering through you. 

You sat like that for some time afterwards; the gentle breeze causing goosebumps to cover each of you as the sweat began to cool on your skin, and Remus rubbed circles into your bare thighs with his thumbs.

Unfortunately - for reasons Remus wasn’t willing to ponder on at present - you pulled away, a string of spit connecting your lips to the place on Remus’ neck he was sure now adorned the shape of your teeth.

“Sorry.” You rasped, running a hand over the newest of many wounds now decorating his skin. He didn’t want you to be sorry, though, he thought perhaps this might be his favourite one; it wasn’t the result of some hideous monster who took out its rage on him, but instead marked a tender moment between him and his…friend. 

You pulled your wand to cast a healing charm over it when Remus grabbed your wrist.

“Don’t.”

Your reddened and swollen eyes looked at him inquisitively, causing Remus to flush in embarrassment.

“Leave it, I’ve already got so many; what’s one more?” He tried to joke, though he could tell as you looked back down at the bite mark, it fell flat. 

“I’m sorry.” You said again, and Remus shook his head.

“Don’t be.”

“Thank you.” You said quietly, looking into Remus’ eyes imploringly, as if trying to convey your gratitude through your very soul. “For stopping me.”

This moment suddenly felt too charged for Remus; it was different somehow, something had happened, though he wasn’t sure what.

Not then, at least.

“That’s what friends do.” He said noncommittally. “It was an I.O.U.”

He managed to force a small smile out of you for that, and he was grateful. 

So perhaps it was all of those together, in addition to the many blowjobs, many quickies, many quiet, loud, rough, or awkward fucks the two of you had in between.

But maybe…

Maybe it was the way your smile lit up the room when Barty or Pandora said something particularly outlandish or funny; your laughter echoing through the halls like an invitation to experience a secret joy that only you and your friends knew about.

Or maybe it was the way you seemed to be the only one who could weasel a smile, a laugh, or a fond eye roll out of the notoriously cold and apathetic Regulus.

Or maybe it was how a dimple in your left cheek only appeared when you were particularly proud of an achievement you made or a grade you received. 

Or maybe it was the kind way you sheltered the younger Slytherin’s from the brunt of the Marauder’s pranks without impeding their more good natured ones.

Or maybe it was the way you hexed McLaggen for hitting on Lily Evans, and then again for calling her a filthy Mudblood when she refused his advancements.

Or maybe it was the way that you could always tell when Remus was feeling sad or low and needed help, needed something, needed you.

And fuck.

He needed you.

Remus wasn’t exactly sure how this thing started for him.

One moment you were on your hands and knees in his bed and he was fucking into you from behind; his body curled around yours as he rubbed at your clit expertly to push you over that edge for the third time tonight. And the next moment you were spread out and pliant beneath him, head thrown back in ecstasy as he lazily pushed into you.

He didn’t often get moments like this; moments to just sit and admire you. 

This thing he had with you, it was delicate, precarious. It was precious. And he wasn’t going to go fucking it up by forcing it to be something it wasn’t.

You were friends.

You were friends who helped each other.

You were friends who have seen each other naked; who have tasted each other’s sweat, skin, flesh, blood, and cum. 

You were friends who have spent time with each other, on each other, and in each other.

You were friends.

That’s what you had agreed to, that was the arrangement, that was all this was supposed to be.

And then Remus’ stupid sodding heart had to go and fucking yearn for you.

It ached to sit beside you in the library without it being a precursor for one of you to be on your knees in the stacks moments later. 

It ached to ask you about your day for the sole purpose of getting to hear about it and not just as a means to help you take your mind off it by bending you over in an empty classroom. 

It ached to watch you, uninhibited throughout the day, without it causing grief, or angst, or hungry looks being exchanged. 

It ached to taste your lips without tasting the leftover sex from previous actions. 

It ached for you to climb into the shower with him after this, to throw on one of his ratty old band tees, and to stay.

It ached for you to stay.

He wanted you to stay.

But you guys were friends.

And that was enough, it had to be enough. He would make it be enough. 

So sue him; sue him for taking this extra moment to admire your form below him, when you were only his in this moment. Sue him for memorising the way your hair pooled around your head like a halo even after all the tugging and ruffling that it has been subjected to. Sue him for watching the way your breasts bounced with each gentle thrust of his hips, the way your ribs expanded and contracted with each breath, the way the two of you fit so perfectly together; your body accepting him with grace and ease as he slotted the two of you together over and over and over again.

He ached for you.

And damn him - damn him and his bleeding heart and this beautiful girl beneath him - he reached out to pull a strand of hair that laid plastered to the side of your sweaty face.

He didn’t just ache for you.

He yearned for you.

He loved you.

He was in love with you.

And Godric only knows how far gone he was or for how long now. But it didn’t matter; none of it mattered. All that mattered was this ethereal being that, for just this moment, was all his. 

He doesn’t know how long your eyes had been returning his gaze. He supposed it didn’t matter, because he knew; he knew it was written all over his face. 

He may as well have been flashing a neon sign on his forehead: “My name is Remus, and I’m wildly in love with you”. And if the sign hadn’t been enough, he was sure his actions were.

There was no longer any desperation in his actions; no destination in mind as he slowly pulled out of you and pushed back in again. His hands weren’t placed in precise locations to elicit a specific reaction of any sort, but rather roved languidly over your body in meticulous worship. 

And if that hadn’t been enough, he was sure that the way you were staring deep into his eyes, into his soul; you saw. You knew.

The jig was up.

He had been outed. 

Your eyes widened minutely and began to flit around Remus’ face as your grip on his arms stationed on either side of your body loosened. 

You knew.

Though it was all for naught at this point, Remus scrunched his eyes closed as if he could save any of his remaining dignity; not that there was much left.

This was it, it was all going to be over.

He lowered himself over your body and pressed his face into your neck, hiding like the coward he was as he picked up the pace of his thrusts.

Gently, tentatively, he felt you press a cautious hand between his shoulder blades and another to the nape of his neck. 

Somehow, the tenderness in your touch hurt more. 

He came with a strangled cry, feeling humiliating tears fall from his eyes as he filled you up for what he was certain would be the last time.

He melted into your hold and cried silently into your shoulder, and you let him.

Your hand that was stationed between his shoulder blades never moved, but your hand in his hair kneaded gentle, soothing circles into his scalp.

He wanted you to stop; he wanted you to stop because this was all he really wanted... to be here, with you, like this.

He wanted the rough and the fun and the biting and the hair pulling, sure. But he wanted the gentle, the soft, the affection, and the innocent intimacy, too. 

That wasn’t fair though; it wasn’t fair to you. You never asked for it, and you never offered it.

You never asked for it.

You never offered it.

He decided that he’d been hiding in your neck for far longer than he had any right to, and slowly pulled his face away from its sanctuary. 

He looked up at you through his curls in shame to see you had tear tracks down your cheeks too.

What a fucking mess.

He was a fucking mess; and he’d dragged you down into it.

He slowly pulled out of you and summoned a tissue to clean up the cum leaking from your folds. You hissed at the sensation and he whispered an apology before pulling on a pair of pyjama pants and throwing you a t-shirt that he hoped to fucking God was clean, and sat on the edge of James’ bed; facing you, though his head was bowed in shame.

“I’m sorry.” He offered pathetically, knowing it was not even close to helpful in this situation.

“When…” You started, voice both gravely from the sex and tight with emotions as new tears fell. “When did this happen?”

He didn’t have an answer; he didn’t know. He couldn't say.

“When,” you tried again. “When did this change?”

Your face fell into your hands as you began to cry in earnest.

He wondered what part of this upset you the most; the loss of this friend that you had in him? The pressure to offer him more than you were willing to give? The feeling of guilt over not being able to return his feelings?

You didn’t seem to be waiting for an actual answer from him, but were rather voicing the thoughts running through your head as they came to you.

“I should go.” He whispered, even though this was his room, even though you were wearing his shirt.

“Don’t.” You demanded harshly, eyes blazing with a fire he never imagined ever being shot at him. “Don’t you dare leave me here like this; not after that.”

He nodded quickly, sitting back down on James’ bed as you wiped angrily at your face.

He wished you wouldn’t; he wished you’d be more gentle.

He didn’t get to wish things like that, though.

“When, when did this become love?” You asked in a mixture of shock and bemusement; the thought of an equation you couldn’t solve was clearly insulting to you. 

Remus shook his head in disgrace. “I’m sorry.” He offered weakly.

You scoffed out a sarcastic laugh. “Sorry for what, exactly? Making me fall in love with you? Making me fall in love with you and not telling me about it?”

“You... too?” He rasped, looking at you with a slack jaw.

“Fuck.” You seethed, standing up and beginning to pace the dorm room for a few moments as you seemed to think back on the entire duration of this situation.

“When!?” You demanded again after a few moments.

“I don’t know.” He admitted honestly, placatingly.

“Fuck.” You paused in place, bringing your hands to your mouth. Remus hated it, but you paused right in front of the hearth, causing your form to be illuminated by an ethereal glow. He thought you looked beautiful.

“I’m sorry.” He said, for daring to even think such a thing.

But, maybe…maybe if you loved him too, he could think such things?

“Fuck.” You said again, still staring unseeingly at the wall of his dorm as you stood in nothing but an oversized shirt in the middle of the room.

“What-” Remus started, taking a cautious step towards you as if you were a wild animal poised to run at any given moment. “What do you want, Y/N?”

Not one muscle in your body moved save for your eyes as they shot over to him.

“Anything.” He whispered.

I’ll give you anything you want; be anything you want. Say it and I’m yours. I’m yours.

I’m already all yours.

“I need to pee.” You said plainly.

Remus’ chest deflated in relief that you weren’t asking him to obliviate this memory from your mind.

“And then…” You took a shuddering breath that made Remus want to fold you up and keep you safe in his breast pocket for the rest of his life. “And then I want to talk. About this, okay? Please?”

Remus nodded quickly, readily, so unbelievably willingly.

“Don’t leave, please. Please be here when I get back.” You whispered; eyes, voice, and body language far more vulnerable than he ever remembered seeing from you (and ever cared to see from you again).

“Always.”

And he kept that promise.

[facefullofsadness]

The world needs guitarist winter!! 🗣🗣🔥🔥🔥 (i die a little each time i see her with a guitar)

AGREE!!! everyday that has passed since 230225 winter playing guitar at synk hyper line in seoul for the first time has just been me trying to recover and seek guidance bc damn, she ruined my life and it's all I've been able to think about

content - rockstar guitarist!winter, best friend's sister!winter, dom!winter, includes txt members (beomgyu and yeonjun) and giselle, song references, smut (messy and wild sex, slight degradation, fingering, cunnilingus, strap-on usage, choking, breeding kink, quickies, squirting, vibrator usage, semi-public sex/voyeurism)

wc - 3122

a/n - a loaded one since it's been a while. I had sm fun writing this in general, but especially a certain part (I think u'll be able to tell when u get there), I was laughing my ass off so fking hard. also I just got a haircut that's very wolf-cut-y so it helped a whole bunch to get into writing this lol, committed to the bit!

winter's a damn good guitarist.

she's fuckinggg hotttt too when she plays and she knows it. watched a vid of her recently doing her guitar solo during girls and after the final riff she smirked at the camera and I LITERALLY COMBUSTED DEAR LORD.

anyway, I imagine her in a rock band, one with beomgyu, and they're both just the hot, wolf-cut, dark emo guitarists. you're the lead singer and front man of the band and were the reason the band formed in the first place. you were besties with beomgyu and you two wrote and composed music from time to time, always having the idea of a band as a passion project at the back of your minds.

eventually, gyu recruited his sister, minjeong. the three of you worked together diligently, recruiting yeonjun as a drummer who knew and dragged along aeri as a bassist. it was truly a dream come true, getting to pursue what you're passionate about the most with your best friend and a group of people just as enthusiastic as you were.

though, it was hard to focus with such a pretty girl like kim minjeong breathing down your neck at all times. you, beomgyu, and minjeong would primarily work together on music, usually going from the afternoon until after midnight hours. while minjeong was only a few months older than your best friend, she'd boss him around and push him to go home, saying it was late and that their mom needed to see at least one of them to know they were okay. he'd groan and complain about it, especially since you and him were the main collaborators for songs and were the best when you were together, but she'd always promise to take good care of you, whatever that meant (huehuehue).

beomgyu cares more about you as a little sister than he does his own sister so when he gets confirmation that she'll take care of you, he accepts it and goes home early, leaving you and minjeong in the studio alone. you bite your lip as you watch the door close, your friend leaving you behind with her.

"just you and me now, huh pretty?" the girl leans into you on the couch.

you shift uncomfortably at the close proximity and try to subtly scooch away, "uh yeah, I guess so... we should try to finish this arrangement before we get out of here."

you try your best to compose yourself and act professional, hearing minjeong's deep chuckle next to you, "alright then."

actually getting work done and writing some lyrics alongside figuring out the instrumental arrangement with minjeong since she's the other guitarist, besides beomgyu (also bc he left). you tell her that you get frustrated with the fact you're not that good at playing, her having asked why you don't just make the arrangements yourself. and so, she decides to teach you! well, "teach you."

placing her acoustic Silvertone on your lap and crawling up slowly behind you, her warm body pressed up against your back, the brush of her lips against your ear making you shiver. she brings her arms over and places her hands over yours, guiding them around the strings and assisting with the chords.

she whispers deep and raspy into your ear various instructions, "if you cover this entire fret and press down on these strings, you'll get the F Barre chord. it's a little difficult but nothing you can't manage, right princess?"

"the placement kinda hurts..." you complain, feeling the burn of the metal strings against your skin.

"it'll be a little painful when you start, but with practice you'll get better. you have to press down harder than that though," her pressing your fingers down harder against the nylon strings.

whining softly at the pain, making her lips come closer to your ear, "come on baby, you can do it, a little pain goes a long way. I know you can handle it."

a chill runs down your spine at her words, proceeding to repeatedly attempt to strum the chord correctly until the sound was full.

"good girl, it wasn't that bad right?" you turn to face her, her lips just centimeters away from yours.

your breath picks up at her proximity and a smirk tugs at her lips, moving her face into your neck and hotly sighing against it.

"how badly do you want it, hm? how badly do you want me to fuck you like a rockstar?"

your grip on her guitar tightens as her mouth trails around your neck, gasping when you feel her tongue drag across slowly.

"what do you think you're doing?"

"nothing you don't want me to already, sweetheart."

you lean into her touch, moving your hand away from the body of the guitar to lace your fingers through her soft wolf-cut hair, pulling her head in further into your neck, now placing wet kisses against the skin.

you suddenly shoot your eyes open at the realization of what you two are doing and stutter, "I-I don't think we should be doing th-this... we need to finish the arrangement... and also, y-your brother, what will h-he think?"

you stumble over your words as minjeong just hums in response to, continuing to leave sloppy marks across your neck, feeling her make hickeys on parts of your skin that wouldn't be noticeable.

"we have all the time in the world to finish the song. but what about gyu? did you want him instead then?" she asks, almost threateningly, challenging you to say yes.

in response, you whimper and pull her head in further towards your neck, practically begging her not to go away.

"don't you feel ashamed letting your best friend's sister do this to you? or are you just a slut?"

you don't answer, only shut your eyes and bite your lip. minjeong doesn't like that, resulting in her hand to pull you by the hair backwards, head facing the ceiling. your eyes shot open at the contact and you see her blown pupils staring into yours.

her voice comes out low and dark, "answer me whore. tell me what you are, I wanna hear you say it."

you gulp down a lump in your throat, debating if you should listen to her or to your morals. all sense jumps out the window when she sexily raises her eyebrow at you, an expectant expression sitting on her aroused face.

fuck it whatever, she's too fucking hot, "I'm your slut, minjeong, all yours."

finishing the arrangement? what a joke! she has your legs spread wide open on the soundboard, skillful fingers pumping in and out of your squelching cunt, your head thrown back, moaning into the hot air of the studio. her one hand plunging deep into your pussy while the other one is wrapped around your waist, holding you close, keeping your thighs propped open with her body. and she's just watching you, her mouth slightly open and lips a deep dark plump red, her messy hair tousled, bangs sticking to her sweaty forehead. she loves watching how your face contorts in response to her digits curling to hit that delicious spot in your hole, hitting it repeatedly, her palm slapping against your clit with every quick thrust of her hand. the sounds of your croaky moans, wet and clenching pussy, and her heavy breathing fill the sound-proof room, the thought of productivity not even grazing either of your minds.

the pleasure built so much, you felt that knot in your stomach tighten. minjeong quickened her pace as she felt your legs start to shake around her, sensing how close you were to cumming. it was all too much and you suddenly orgasmed, crying out moans with every wave of delight that surged through your body, thighs trembling, eyes rolled back and mouth hung open, your hands gripping her shoulders for dear life. she intently watched with a lustful stare at every expression your face made while you came, memorizing how good you looked when she fucked you. pulling her fingers out and collecting every drop of cum you leaked onto her hand and wrist, licking it clean until a thin sheet of her saliva remained.

"open your fucking mouth and stick your tongue out," she demanded with a deep voice.

you obeyed and gagged, feeling her tongue shove itself down your throat, forcefully swallowing her saliva and your cum. drool seeped out the sides of your lips as she continued her onslaught in your mouth, feeling her clothed hips grind against your sensitive clit, moans slipping out of your throat in the form of gags.

she'd pull away suddenly, tongue exiting your mouth with a wet slurping noise, making you cough. "you. are. mine. remember that."

she'd remind you, running her damp fingers through her hair.

these late night escapades continued to occur with every single long session held in the studio (she definitely recorded some audios of you guys fucking for sureeee). the creative part of you wanted beomgyu to stay and help with the music, but the sinful part of you so desperately wanted him to leave as soon as possible to have his sister all to yourself. your best friend never caught on to you and minjeong, but oh, yeonjun and aeri caught on like THAT. the tension between you two was so palpable, the two older members would side eye you during practices and giggle to each other, watching the two of you eye fuck from across the room.

eventually, the band's popularity would build and proceed to skyrocket, leading to your guys' first tour. tour meant performing together, traveling together, being with each other, and ultimately, tour meant being with minjeong. and so when management would get 3 hotel rooms for you all, 1 for the boys, 1 for the girls, and well, 1 for aeri being the sleeping beauty she is, rooming with minjeong meant a few things. practicing together, writing and composing together, and sleeping together (for the girls in the back, SEX).

throwing you onto the bed as soon as you reach your hotel room, tearing your clothes off and pinning you down, sloppily kissing each other. she'd prep you by eating you out, sticking her wet muscle inside of your leaking core, caressing your walls and flicking against your g-spot. you bit down hard on the pillow, muffling your moans as her thumb covered in her saliva rubbed against your throbbing clit. her pulling away right before you came and putting on a strap-on she brought on tour (for you of course!), wasting no time in thrusting it into you.

the pillow probably did nothing to silence your screams as she mercilessly fucked you into the mattress, hand pressing down on your lower stomach to feel her cock pumping in and out of you, the tip of her dick hitting your cervix again and again, her thumb still stimulating your clit. minjeong had your back arching, your hands flew everywhere, trying to grip onto anything to ground yourself, but nothing was enough, even as you screamed and bit down on your pillow. your eyes watered and your vision blurred as she rammed into you, the dark-haired girl moving her hands to wrap around your neck, choking you, gradually adding pressure with every rough thrust. her pants eventually became moans too, loving the feeling of the side of her strap hitting that delicious spot inside of her too, slapping her clit against yours as she bottomed out in you.

"I'm gonna fucking cum in you y/n, I'm gonna knock you up, fill you up until you're leaking both of us," minjeong growls above you, lowering her face to level with yours.

you feel tears fall down the sides of your face and your throat sore from another scream ripped out of you as well as her hands around your neck as she throws the pillow in your mouth onto the floor, attaching her mouth to yours instead. you cry onto her tongue as you orgasm against her strap, toes curling and legs wrapped around her waist, nails digging into minjeong's shoulders, cum gushing out of you as you feel her cock shoot fake ropes of white liquid into you, filling you up. you feel her shake in your arms too as she cums, her pleasure leaking out onto your thighs, soaking the bedsheets. she collapses on top of you, both of you desperately gasping for air, her dick still inside of you, keeping the fake cum from leaking out.

"good thing we have another bed."

of course being on tour also meant fucking in the green room before a performance. having done interviews all morning, having a concert for the tour tonight, minjeong was so mean! she had you wear a vibrator the entire day! it would be on the lowest setting up until the interviewer would ask you a question. she would turn up the intensity and you would squirm as you tried to answer, gripping your ripped jeans, almost causing another tear. and so when you two were left alone in the green room for just a minute, she took you right then and there, your legs wide open on the sofa, her mouth stimulating your clit while she increased the vibrator's setting to max, thrusting it in and out of you.

you were screaming in pleasure, all the built up tension in your stomach finally being relieved with each pump of the sex toy in your pussy. you clutched onto her leather jacket for dear life as you came all over her face, squirting everywhere. she licked as much as she could and you both worked quickly to clean before anyone came back. your members, staff, and the fans would notice you limping around on stage that night, winter with an especially evil smirk resting on her face.

being on tour also meant getting fingered in the bathroom backstage. it's literally 10 minutes to showtime, but minjeong NEEDED to fuck you now! her calloused fingers pumping in and out of you while you reciprocated fingering her too. both of your skirts hiked up and panties pushed to the side (no safety shorts? idk this is fiction, ignore it!), moaning desperately into each others mouths as you messily and sloppily made out against the bathroom stall door. curling your fingers at the same time, biting down on her lip while her fingernails dug into your thigh at the feeling. rolling your hips against her palm to stimulate your clit, her repeating the motion and pinning you harder to the door so that your bodies were flush against one another.

screaming into each other's mouths as you came at the same time, cum dripping down your wrist. quickly cleaning one another up (with your tongues, yup) and running to your places since there was literally THIRTY SECONDS to showtime! beomgyu confusedly looking at you two in frustration, asking where you guys had been, yeonjun and aeri rolling their eyes laughing, still lowkey irritated that you guys were LITERALLY FUCKING instead of getting ready to perform smh. everyone definitely noticed the redness in both of your cheeks. winter had fingered you with her calloused hand, the dampness making it more difficult to play the chords during that show, the band noticing the change in effectivity too (how technical!).

at some point, the fans would notice the tension between you two. who wouldn't ship the lead singer with the guitarist in a band anyway right? especially when it's the hot dark wolf-cut emo guitarist winter and the stunning pretty charismatic lead singer. but of course that wasn't the only reason, you guys were soooo obvious. you're singing the flirty and seductive lyrics towards her, minjeong returning a smirk back at you and sticking her tongue out while she fingerpicks her guitar, raising her eyebrows when she does. trailing your fingertips over her bare skin in skimpy outfits they'd put her in onstage, singing the lyrics into her ears.

or literally just flat out fucking saying it. like having those soundcheck Q&As where fans would ask you questions like "if you were to date one of the members, who would you date?"

answering each other's names at the same time, causing everyone to laugh in the audience, beomgyu gagging, and yeonjun and aeri holding back laughter. minjeong following up by saying something like "I mean, it's not like it hasn't happened before." LIKE WHAT ARE YOU SAYING?

or when you and winter are in an interview and they ask what the inspiration was behind a particular song, let's say a more sexy song, and she responds first, "well, every song that we've written has influences from our own personal experiences."

the interviewer would be like, "so then is it true when you sing quote 'I might fuck your friend, I made my mind up'?"

you blush profusely and winter just dies laughing, "I'll let you guys decide that one."

"y/n, you wrote "we go for hours and it's still good" correct?" the interviewer continues.

"yes yes but the details don't really matter do they?" you nervously laugh while minjeong drills holes into the side of your head, staring at you with a playful and sinister smirk on the side.

my favorite headcanon to think about is online discourse regarding you and minjeong. your guys' new mv dropped for your latest single and there are a bunch of scenes with you and winter acting like an angsty couple in the rain, making up in the end by having an alluded to sex scene (lmao, wild if this actually would ever happen).

I just imagine twt going INSANEEE.

slut4winter: DID Y/N AND WINTER FUCK AT THE END OF THE VIDEO?!?!?

y/nonechancepls: i literally cannot defend minjeong and y/n anymore...

beomgyuswolfcut: bro, winter fr cucked her brother from y/n 😭😭

aerifuckinguchinaga: win-y/n's chemistry is a lil too real yall 💀

drumjunyeonjun: not them saying it was their fav scene to film, the closet is made out of AIR, IM SICK OF U F WORDS !!!

and of course, despite all of this, your dear bestie and minjeong's brother doesn't catch on. at times, beomgyu will be all what the fuck is going on when you two say something that has double entendre or has some sort of underlying meaning.

yeonjun usually just pats him on the back while laughing, "oh my friend, never change, never change."

aeri being such a nosy friend LOVES hearing you rant about it, chin propped up on her fist, leaning forward against the table, a cheeky grin on her face. with every spicy detail, she's always just like, "girllll, you're insane and wild, but good for you!"

a/n - like rq, through a guitarist pov, winter is so attractively good at guitar it pisses me off. also headcanon songs this band would make are like wdywfm by the neighbourhood, sex by the 1975, do I wanna know by arctic monkeys, and slow down by chase atlantic. incredibly self indulgent hc and WHAT ABOUT IT!!

[mikuni14]

I love when BL series show their couples in everyday, ordinary situations, especially among other people (that's why I love the obligatory, traditional "tree planting trips" in Thai BLs 😄). I love it when, despite the presence of other people, both lovers are hyper aware of each other, glancing or openly staring at each other, touching, teasing, flirting with each other... sometimes to the point where everything else disappears and it's just them, in their own little pink bubble 😊 Tharn and Phaya are amazing in this - as in practically everything - which is why they are such a perfect couple for me. And what I wrote above was brilliantly shown for example in the bar scene 👌 But let's not forget this scene, Phaya doesn't even try to play it cool

Meanwhile Tharn is like 😶

Which of course only makes Phaya's interest go 📈 because that's the type of little shit guy he is lol

gosh, but I just love the arrogant, cocky Phaya, ok

[fangirleaconmigo]

I've been going through some of your posts about Geralt and Dandelion's friendship in the books recently because... well I'm back in my book/game phase I guess and I really wanted to know if there are any other Dandelion friendships you like from the books and why? Like him and Zoltan or with the other Hansa etc? [Personally I'm a big fan of what little we see of him with Regis and it always makes me weepy that he wrote a biography about him in the games and fondly remarks abt him smelling like herbs all the time]

Awww yayy thanks for spending some time on the ol blog. I absolutely love this question. I don't get to talk enough about Emiel Regis Rohellec Terzieff-Godefroy, and his relationship with Dandelion (for the newbies, that is Jaskier's name in the books) is so lovely.

Dandelion and Friendships

For those who are just joining us, Tea is talking about my series about Geralt and Dandelion's friendship in the books.

I have also written posts about Dandelion's friendships with Ciri and Zoltan:

Dandelion and Ciri

Dandelion and Zoltan

And for this post, I'll focus on Regis and Dandelion's friendship, which I absolutely love.

Dandelion and Regis Friendship (books)

What really strikes me about Regis and Dandelion, is just how patient and kind Regis is with Dandelion. Sometimes it is almost like he’s dealing with a child he cares about. Considering Regis’s age (over four centuries old), Dandelion (approx in his thirties when they meet) IS a child. 

On top of that, Dandy’s personality is rife with traits often associated with kids:

insatiable curiosity to the point where he endangers his own life, (when they go into the forest or sea, Geralt has to essentially, follow right behind him like you would a toddler),

hyper enthusiasm about every discovery he makes, (he whispers in awe when he sees mandrake for the first time, that’s just how he reacts to everything new)

his inability to censor himself or stop asking questions even when everyone else wants him to shut up (he will ask until he understands, no matter the social cues happening)

the way he will act incredibly transparent and awkward while thinking he is being subtle and smooth

Perhaps that is why Regis seems to be so indulgent of him. And somehow their personalities just fit naturally.

Regis’s most annoying trait is to lecture people at length like a professor and cut people off who are asking a question, since he is too eager to answer it. The vampire loves to hold forth on a topic.

Dandelion’s annoying trait (one of many, bless, we know he can't keep it in his pants either) is to ask questions incessantly. In that way, they really kind of fit together. 

Geralt loses patience when Dandelion is being socially inappropriate by asking too many questions. Geralt really values discretion and manners.

Regis is more willing to spend time explaining things and to open up.

Early in the hansa's time together, (before he manages to surprise folks several times over) Dandelion is often seen as the one who is in way over his head. Everyone else is a warrior or a soldier. Dandelion is the soft one. To add to the indignity, Geralt is angry at him during Baptism of Fire because Dandelion keeps forcing him to make friends (well, to ask for help)

Yet Regis, the new guy, is the one who always makes sure Dandelion isn't embarrassed or ashamed.

Here’s a few examples.

When Dandelion is given a bloody head wound by an arrow, the poet is howling and shrieking. He thinks he's dead already. He is not a stoic man. It is played comedically, but Geralt is also legitimately terrified that he will lose Dandelion. That bit is not played comedically.

But given the circumstances, the rest of them could be forgiven for rolling their eyes at the poet's dramatics.

But Regis (who is treating his wounds as the resident barber surgeon) does not.

Regis speaks to him so soothingly, and kindly. (I am omitting the Geralt dramz because I will get off topic lol)

Dandelion groaned and took a sharp intake of breath....

“I’ll put in a few stitches,” Regis said...”Be brave, Dandelion.”

Dandelion was brave.

“Almost done here,” Regis said, setting about bandaging the victim’s head. “Don’t you worry, Dandelion, you’ll be right as rain. The wound’s just right for a poet, Dandelion. You’ll look like a war hero, with a proud bandage around you head, and the hearts of the maidens looking at you will melt like wax. Yes, a truly poetic wound....”

And when it is revealed that Regis is a vampire, and Dandelion is afraid of him, Regis is incredibly patient and kind about the whole thing. He does not take offense. Geralt does! (Ironic, considering Geralt ran Regis off, but Geralt, bless, is dealing with a clusterfuck of feelings about the vampire and everything else going on in his life.)

But yes, after Geralt tells Dandelion about Regis, Dandelion is scared, and wants to seek reassurance. But the poet (unbeknownst to him it seems) is awkward and bad at it. He tries to bring up the issue with the subtlety of a sledge hammer.

Dandelion...deciding to clear up the uncertainty..began as soon as they set off. With his usual tact.

(I like that. His usual tact. Meaning, zero tact lmaoooooo.)

“Milva,” he suddenly called as they were riding, sneaking a glance at the vampire as they were riding, sneaking a glance at the vampire. “...I fancy eating a hunk of real meat for a change! How about you, Regis?”

Yeah. Real subtle Dandelion.

“I beg your pardon?’ the vampire said, lifting his head from the horse’s neck. 

“Meat!” the poet repeated emphatically. “...fancy some fresh meat?”

“Yes, I do.”

“And blood. Would you like some fresh blood?”

“Blood?” Regis asked, swallowing. “No. I’ll decline the blood. But if you have a taste for some, feel free.”

Geralt, Milva and Cahir observed an awkward, sepulchral silence.

I love that. Awkward sepulchral silence. Dandelion causes a lot of those. But Regis does not dismiss him or laugh. He reassures him.

“I know what this is about, Dandelion,” Regis said slowly, “And let me reassure you. I’m a vampire, but I don’t drink blood.”

The silence became as heavy as lead. But Dandelion wouldn’t have been Dandelion if he had remained silent.

But Dandelion wouldn’t have been Dandelion if he had remained silent. (sorry I am laughing every other line at this part)

“You must have misunderstood me,” he said, seemingly lightheartedly. “I didn’t mean-”

“I don’t drink blood,” Regis interrupted. “...I gave it up.”

Dandelion doesn’t know what that means and keeps pestering Regis to explain. Geralt is embarrassed and tells Dandy to shut up.

However, Regis opens up around the camp fire that night. He tells his life story, and says he hasn’t drank blood in fifty years. Dandelion is incredulous. 

“Not at all?” Dandelion said, and stuttered. But his curiosity got the best of him. “Not at all? Never? But...?”

Geralt is embarrassed again and shuts him down again. Regis, by contrast, is patient and defends Dandelion.

“I beg your pardon,” the poet grunted.

“Don’t apologize,” the vampire said placatingly, “And Geralt, don’t chasten him. I understand his curiosity.”

Baptism of Fire 291-295

That's right. Don't chasten him Geralt.

Regis and Dandelion also just have a wonderful dynamic of picking on each other.

Dandelion teases Regis about his long ass name.

And Regis has a great time teasing Dandelion lovingly. In one scene, Geralt and Regis team up to pick on Dandelion and the secretive way he treats his writing. Dandelion has stolen some paper and pencil from a Lyrian military convoy and is writing whenever they make camp, but gets testy whenever anyone gets near him or looks at his manuscript.

Geralt is good-naturedly giving Dandelion a hard time and Regis jumps in with such adorable relish. (Also, in this scene, we find out that Regis actually named Dandelion's memoirs)

"Indeed," the witcher joined in...."You've become devilishly touchy, Dandelion. One cannot fail to notice that it is somehow connected to the paper which you have recently begun to deface with a bit of lead while we camp." “It’s true,” Regis agreed, “our minstrel has become touchy, not to say secretive, discreet, and loving of solitude recently. Oh no, having witnesses when performing his natural needs doesn't bother him at all...His shameful secrecy and oversensitivity to being watched extends solely to his scribbled notes. Is, perhaps, a poem being written in our presence? A rhapsody? And epic? A romance? A canzone?”

He's like, you don't care who sees you piss and shit, but oh this you care about. lol. Tell us about the poem. But Geralt objects.

“No,” Geralt retorted...”I know him. It can’t be verse, because he’s not cursing, mumbling, or counting the syllables on his fingers. He’s writing in silence, so it must be prose.”

“Prose!” The vampire flashed his pointed fangs - which he really tried not to do. “A novel perhaps? Or an essay? A morality play? Dammit, Dandelion! Don’t torture us so! Reveal what you are writing?”

Dandelion says it is a memoir called Fifty Years of Poetry. Regis says that A Half Century of Poetry sounds better.

“Thanks, Regis, Something constructive at last.”

P 88 -90 The Tower of the Swallow

I admit I'm such a sucker (hehe no pun intended) for whenever Regis's fangs are mentioned, whether he is hiding them, baring them, or unselfconsciously showing them during a warm, silly moment with his friends. (Sobs, I love this vampire, seriously I need an intervention)

Regis also comforts Dandelion openly when the poet is doubting his courage or fitness for a task.

Later in the book, Geralt volunteers for a bloody job/violence for hire that terrifies Dandelion, so the poet protests the plan. Geralt insists he’ll do it alone.

But no! He has a hansa now! He won't be alone! Angoulême volunteers to go. Cahir says he’s coming with as well. Then Milva insists she is coming.

Dandelion freezes.

It would be like the LOTR ‘and my bow and my axe’ yadda yadda scene, but if there was one person left and when it got to them, everyone turned around and looked and they are just standing there frozen like....motherfuck this is scary idk idk wtf do I do. And the way this next paragraph is written, it pleases me.

Dandelion...was evidently struggling with his thoughts. And the thoughts were winning.

lmaooo

And Regis jumps in "kindly." He shows solidarity with Dandelion, and takes the heat by calling himself a coward.

“Stop meditating, poet,” Regis said kindly. For there’s nothing to be ashamed of. You’re even less cut out to participate in a bloody swordfight than I am. We weren’t taught to carve up our neighbors with a blade. Furthermore...furthermore..,” he raised shining eyes towards Geralt and Milva, “I’m...a coward,” he confessed curtly.

They keep arguing amongst themselves because Geralt believes they have been spied on. And Regis is just...always soft with Dandelion. When Dandelion starts guessing about who is spying on them, and is beginning to ramble incorrectly,

“You’re mistaken, Dandelion,” Regis softly interjected.

The Tower of the Swallow p 182

It's Regis's gentleness that just fuckn kills me. That's always the character that's gonna get me right between the ribs with a shank. (Metaphorically, Regis is too gentle for that)the one that lives in a horror filled, violent, cruel world and is still just kind, even to the loud, awkward, soft, obnoxious poet who is in over his head and is afraid you'll bite him in his sleep and who shrieks when he is wounded.

Geralt and Dandelion are so sassy and old/married with each other, deeply, proudly loving in actions, but always bickering.

It's sweet to see Dandelion have a friendship like the one he has with Regis.

It is so nice to hear that the games continued his love of Regis. (I haven't played them, so I get my info about them from you guys XD)

So thanks again for following me and for the ask! I hope I've done ok answering. I also love Dandy's dynamic with Nenneke and ofc Yen, but I'll stop there.

Hope your week goes really well. x

[sharkboywrites]

HIII If you're accepting requests rn I'd love to ask for something done! Floyd leech x autistic (preferably trans, but it's okay if not as well!) male reader! basically I'd love for my fave character to comfort me lol,,, Like... bodily affirmations, squeezes, lots of sweet kisses... maybe some crying... Idk!! just go with whatever comes to mind! (sorry if too vauge, I feel sooo braindead rn XD)

yah ty if you get around to this!!! it'd make my days so much better, I've already read all the stuff in the floyd x male reader tags so I'm feeling so deprived of good n' comforting content aughhh....

Bad Days

Floyd x autistic trans male reader

A/N: So funny thing I wrote like half of this and then my app reset so I have to rewrite almost I’ll of it :,) but anyways this is also kinda a comfort fic for me because I’ve been dealing with a lot of sensory issues and transphobia lately , along with being borderline denied an autism assessment so this is a fic for both of us anon

Trans male reader, autistic reader, dysphoria, sensory issues, autism meltdown, non sexual nudity

Days like these are tough. From the moment you woke up you could tell that something was wrong. It starts with the clothes. The shirt and jacket just feel wrong.

But there’s nothing else to wear so… you wear it. Then it gets worse in class. The temperature is just too much, and it makes your clothes feel so much worse, like you want to just scratch at your skin until the feeling stopped.

The noises the people make around you are unbearable. The gum chewing, the lip smacking, all of it is just to much. It makes you want to tear your hair out and rip your ears off.

The lights are too bright and everyone is just so loud, it’s starting to feel like your getting a migraine, like you just can’t take it anymore and start screaming at any moment.

And of course somehow these feelings just make you more aware of your body. You’re suddenly hyper aware of your chest, your waist, your face, even your voice. It’s all too much.

Luckily, when you first came to Night Raven Colege, you thought ahead about this. It was important for your teachers to understand your situation, diagnosis or not.

Crewel was aware of your situation, and with one look you’re able to slip out of class. You rush back to your dorm as quickly as possible, suddenly grateful that classes were going on so nobody could see you. You can’t help the whines that slip from your throat as you desperately try to hold yourself back from completely breaking down into a mess of screams and cries.

You’re able to quickly make it back to your dorm, locking yourself in your room and throwing off your uniform. Sure, being completely naked almost in tears in your dorm room isn’t the most flattering thing, but you just had to get that stupid uniform off.

Rubbing down the worst feeling parts of your body, you’re able to calm down enough to dig out your favorite clothes and throw them back on, even if they not be in the best state. You just need them right now.

Being able to use any type of noise cancelling headphones or earbuds helps calm you down a little bit more. Just having them in, even if you’re not playing anything, it helps get all of the noises from the day out of your head.

A drink of water also helps. In very few gulps you’re able to swallow almost an entire bottle of water. You lay down in your bed, breathing heavily as you start to calms down in a safer environment.

As you lay in bed, you can feel your soft blanket in your feet, rubbing them back in forth to get a nicer sensation than what you were feeling for most of the day.

Taking a few more sips of water, completely finishing off the water bottle, you take your stim toy of choice. You have all of your favorite options thanks to everyone at NRC giving them to you. As you fidget and play one of your favorite videos, you start to think. You managed to slip out of class, and you didn’t even hurt yourself or make a complete mess of your room. At least that’s some progress.

You’re cut off by your thinking by a knock on the door. Not able to form words at the moments, you pull yourself out of bed and peek out of the door.

Standing there is your tall, rather intimating boyfriend.

“Eh? Shirmpy what happened? You just left class so suddenly…”

He has his usual playful drone to his voice, but you can tell the slight hint of concern, a difference you’re sure only you and his brother can notice.

You stay silent, just giving him a pained look and hoping he understand. He does.

“Not talkin’? Alright… you want me to stay?”

You’re able to give him a small nod, and he walks right in and practically jumps onto your bed, making grabby hands at you, his mood doing almost a 180, as he usually does.

You could always depend on Floyd to understand what you’re going through. He also has his fair share of his own mood swings and tantrums, he’s never judge you for your own.

You walk back to bed and slowly slink into his arms, leaning against his chest comfortably. Floyd was somehow never too hot or too cold to cuddle with. He was somehow always the perfect temperature no matter what you were feeling. It almost feels like he knows how to control his own body temperature on purpose.

He squeezes you tight, not as hard as he does when he’s mad at someone or intentionally trying to hurt them, but a real, genuine hug. And it’s perfect. Others would complain that his squeezes are way to tight, but to you it’s perfect. He’s almost like a weighted blanket. You’re glad you make him feel safe enough to hug you as hard as he wants with genuine love.

He snuggle close to you, leaving soft kisses on his he top of your head and cheek, but not anywhere that may be uncomfortable in your overstimulated time. He’s mindful of where exactly he’s touching you, he knows what parts don’t want to be touched in these moments, even the most obscure ones.

As the two of you snuggle and watch whatever you chose to put on, he mutters sweet things to you.

“I love yooou.” “My boyfriend….” “My boy.” “So handsome”

It seems like he’s in a lovey mood now. Even with his sudden switches, he always seems to know the right things that you need to hear. He also checks up on how you’re feeling.

“Are ya comfortable?” “Feelin’ any better?” “Are you too warm?” “Do ya want your stuffed animal?” “Want me to move my arms?”

When you aren’t talking, the both of you are in a comfortable silence. It starts to become hard to keep your eyes open after the day you’ve had combined with the cozy environment with your boyfriend holding you tight.

Eventually, you can’t fight the exhaustion anymore and feel yourself starting to drift. Before you fully fall asleep, you feel a soft kiss on the top of your head and the arms around you squeeze just a bit tighter.

“G’night Shirmpy, sweet dreams…”

Aaah I love writing comfort fics. Usually my head cannon style posts do better than my actual fics so I guess I’ll see how this goes. Also this is based on my own experience with autism, so if it doesn’t fit you I’m sorry, Ty for reading and have a nice day

[lizzaneia-elizalde]

First off, love your writing, IT MAKES ME FEEL THINGS😭😭 but…

Can we please get more of yandre emo boy Ashton I JUST READ IT AND IM DROOLING SCREAMING CRYING GIGGLING AMD KICKING MY FEET😭🧎‍♀️🤪🧎‍♀️🧎‍♀️

THANK YOU❤️❤️🤭🤭🤭

(If not that’s okay, ignore this bae🫶)

Yandere! Stereotypical! Emo and his beloved popular bitch

Ayo, thank you for the compliment! I'm glad my writings made you feel things (I don't know what though LMAO)

Actually, I'm not planning to follow up Ashton, but hey, at least it would break my writer's block (lol it's just laziness) so here ya go!

Sorry that it took days though 😔

FOR THIS ONE, I RECOMMEND READING THE FIC FIRST BEFORE THE DRABBLE (this one).

Read the yandere emo fic here!

💌Little Ashton was misunderstood a lot as a child. He never really liked the same things the other children liked, and he had this morbid curiosity with death and occult.

💌Of course, this undoubtedly scared his family, making him out to be some sort of psychopath.

💌This irked Ashton of course. He's just... That. He still loves his parents, and nothing would change that.

💌But the fact that they're so conservative that it's actually bringing Ashton down is what drove him over the edge to find a school far, far away from his family.

💌A small, quaint town, yet filled with teenagers. It was kind of a nightmare when Ashton found out, but he gritted his teeth and thought that maybe, with the current years, maybe they won't judge him. Maybe.

💌So, he indulged more in his Emo lifestyle. He religiously listened to green day, Panic! At the Disco, My Chemical Romance...

💌He even got into writing poems as a way to put out his feelings that he never got to tell other people.

💌 He's actually very sensitive with emotions and feelings. So technically, he should be a great friend candidate, right?

💌But once he got into the school year, that's when he knew, that his life would be living hell. Stereotypes left and right. Mean cheerleaders and jocks that ostracized his choice of clothing, snobby rich students that turn their noses on him just because he's not that rich, geeks and nerds that keeps getting in his way, thinking he's one of them.

💌"Fuck. Get me out of here. Nobody understands me."

💌He didn't realize himself, but he's also slowly being a stereotype. Always alone, writing poems, and being unnecessarily nihilistic.

💌Until of course, one day, you transfered. You, your pink rover, and your slutty little outfit.

💌God, just looking at you and your charming personality made Ashton hard fall for you.

💌He wants you. So bad.

💌So he dabbled back into the occults. He found an old book in an abandoned "witch's hut" that he went on a mad hunt for weeks. Apparently, the witch that lived there was a matchmaker witch, who gave love potions to those really desperate.

💌At first, Ashton didn't believe it. Especially that it involves sampaguita, a flower not native to his town. How did the witch even get the flowers?

💌But there he was, mixing and creating the potion under the moonlight and putting your hair and his in the pot. Creating a love potion that smelled like the sampaguitas he had to smuggle in.

💌He wrote you letters everyday, obsessing and hyper fixating on your allure and beauty. Confessing over and over again on paper that looks old and aged with writing that looks like it came from a fountain pen. With a spritz of the love potion, he would put it in your locker.

💌God, who knew that it would work?

💌Day by day, he watched you read the letters. At first, you were disgusted (much to his dismay) but slowly, you started to read the letters with a neutral face, then a smile, then with a squeal and then a desperate plea for him to come and fuck you already.

💌Maybe putting his... Semen on your love potion got you desperate for him carnally, rather than romantically.

💌But no fretting, he would just make you fall for him.

💌And as you moan and scream out his name as he pounds into your tight hole like the feral, fuck machine he is,

💌He was pleading to the moon to see his bleeding heart and bare soul to make you his.

💌And if the moon won't allow it,

💌Well, it's nothing more love potions won't do.

💌"my beloved, why don't you drink this sweet tea I made? Why is it pink and smells floral? It's a new tea from Japan. Sakura, from what I know. It's glowing? Nonsense, love. It's probably just the lighting."

💌"Now drink up, don't let a drop go to waste."

[odusseus-xvi]

Hello helloooo friend! Hi! I just wanted to say that I'll be going around and asking people about QSMP characters to avoid mischaracterization of said characters (in analysis, fics, and just overall fan interpretations). So if you're cool with it, can I ask you about the French streamers?

Like, can you tell me the mischaracterization you often see regarding their characters and how they actually are? I mean, ANY facts about them would be very very cool to know! I love all of them and I would really like to know more about them since I can't really watch everyone, ya kno?

Yes I would love to :D ! But also, keep in mind, I'm not immune to a bit of mischaracterization (that's how you write that right ?), sometimes I probably do a little bit, though I try my best not to. I have to admit, I don't see a lot, or just little things, and mostly from the english side of the community, cause over here with the french we are a really small part of the overall fandom, so I don't have a lot of interactions, AND it's our first (ever) smp like that (semi rp etc...), we never had that over here in France, it's a new thing both for us and the ccs, so we are getting our footing. But here we go I do have some things I can say : (wrote a fricking novel holy)

q!Baghera Jones : I see a lot of people characterize her as this hyper competent investigator that knows everything etc... In a way she is, she is a good investigator, and is always eager to solve the mysteries of the island ; What people miss most of the time is that she is also (it's not mutually exclusive) a Goofball : She sings randomly, she walks on mines and jumps off buildings willingly for the lols, some people say she witholds information, most of the time she actually just Forgor. Something that people do get most of the time is that she genuinely is really empathetic : She loves Walter Bob, two days ago she talked about how Cucurucho may be manipulated, she is worried about Quackity, about Cellbit, Foolish, Jaiden etc... And outside of petty rivalry (mostly with Forever, BBH, Etoiles, and a bit Cellbit) she is not a vengeful person at all. She is very understanding. Oh and almost forgot : She is surprisingly insightful ; She guessed what was happening to Cellbit as one of the firsts, she immediatly figured Gegg out the first day she met Slime, ElQuackity is VERY obviously another person than Quackity at first glance etc...

q!Etoiles : There was for some time a bit of mischaracterization in the way people saw him as a bloodthirsty killing machine, though it is fading steadily as we speak ; He is a really nice person that lifts up others, gift them things whenever he can, cares about the eggs, and is always reactive when it comes to saving or helping others. Also, he is a badass in the eyes of everyone (ccs and fandom) but people have a way to write that in fics that doesn't really match him : They write a badass and dark character that is mostly silent and cool ; Etoiles is NOT that (he is badass yes but not much the rest), he SAYS he is that, that he is "dark, and broody, and mysterious", but the guy is always cracking jokes, about others, about himself, he is very self-aware of his problems (social and health related) and likes to joke about it because "it puts smiles on the faces of people" (his way of cheering people up most of the time : "You are not useless, you put smiles on my and the people's faces, and that wonderful"). The moments that CAN be a bit dark is when he is asking for a fight ; most of the time it's goofy, but then there is moments like the dinner party when the codes revealed themselves, where he will be saying while everyone panics "Yeah... Yeah.. FINALLY ! FINALLY !!" and you realise he is not to be trifled with. He aslo tends to blame himself when something wrong happens ; to him, HE is the one that misplayed, that made a mistake.

q!Aypierre : Some people could see him as a relatively chill dude ; he talks calmly, never screams and very rarely raises his voice, but he is NOT chill : He is the most gremlin of the french, his favorite past-time in all the smps he's been in is pranking and breaking the servers : Two days ago in his 24 hour stream, he broke in the federation base three times, exploded a bunch of stuff in there, tortured Foolish alongside BBH, summoned lightning to make Foosh and BBH believe Gegg is still alive in front of his infinite Gegg generator, rickrolled Cucurucho etc... He is a every ingenuous guy with ways to build factories of everything. Most people, out of the french, would fear Etoiles because he is always begging for a fight, and fought and won against the code several times, but he is a nice guy, who they probably SHOULD fear, is Aypierre, this guy can be EVIL at times ; He loves contracts and deals, and using those against the others. He is not all evil though. He does care about Pomme, the french, and is willing to help others when they need him, though he likes to make exchanges.

q!Antoine Daniel : Antoine is probably the hardest to write or get when you are not used to him. He has such a way of speaking and a weird twisted humor that to someone not french, and not watching his streams regularly, it's REAL hard to get him right. He is an apreciator of dark humor and cynicism ; Joking about Bobby in front of Pomme is an example, though he is starting to be more compassionate about the eggs than he was at the beginning of his journey on the smp. Probably because of one of my posts and some others, a lot of people see him as incredibly paranoïd, and for a time he was, though he said himself (both in and out of character) that it was starting to get better because people came talked to him about it, there IS still remains though. What's interesting is that he can be both paranoïd, AND incredibly insightful : His takes are either the rambling of a madman, or scarily on point. Though he is rarely willing to help others (both because of his next to level 0 skills in minecraft and general air of "I don't care"), he is always on alarm and willing to help when it comes to the eggs, multiple times he ironically is one of the most reactive ones when it comes to realise there is danger or a problem for the eggs ; Though he is relatively self-centered, he is very compassionate and attentive of the eggs, with Pomme potentially being the person he trusts most. (everytime he acts aloof and cynical on his stream, to then immediatly worry about Pomme's well-being warms my heart.)

q!Kamet0 : AHAHAHAHAH ahAHaHhah, ahahah... ahah.. ah. oh. (he left for cigarretes)

(HOLY SHIT I WROTE A NOVEL. Sorry, didn't excpect to have that much to say. But here you go, hope that helps.)

[nerdieforpedro]

🦴

🍓

🥤

Please!

🦴 = a piece of media that inspires my writing?

Not really one set piece. More like music in general does. I often listen to lofi beats when writing or my writing playlist to set the mood of what I’m trying to write. Or it could be music I’m listening to in the car or waiting somewhere could lead to some bullet points that become a fic. 😆

🍓= what led me to write fanfic in the first place?

Going deep here aren’t you Em? 👀 lol I’ve enjoyed writing since I was little as an extension of my love of reading. First with poems and the anime fanfiction when I actually watch more anime. Now I read more manga and don’t write fanfiction about it. If one squints on A03 - I may have dabbled in Marvel characters and actors for a short time. 🫢 The took a long pause as life happened. Sometime last year as my mental health improved so did my love of writing and I hyper focused on Pedro Pascal so here we are. 🤣 I write more the better my mood is. Maybe a bit too much background 😵

🥤= recommend and author or fic you love

Ugh just one? Dammit. 😒 I shall not! I’ll do eight because there are no favorites! Only peeps we support! And I can’t really call any of them number one I enjoy them all too much. 🥰

1. @morallyinept Pretty much anything you read of Jett’s will be beautiful, sensual, take you to a far away place or have needing to remove clothing - possibly from reading the same fic. 😆 She covers a wide variety of Pedro characters and is a wealth of knowledge on them. She also is just really talented and sweet.

2. @maggiemayhemnj Sure Ms. Payday doesn’t have a long Masterlist but every fic on there is worth reading for her turns of phases, vivid descriptions and her love of both Joel and Ezra. 💕

3. @megamindsecretlair One of my fellow black writers who keeps readers thirsty and eager for more with her Sam, Bucky and Loki series (all of which I need to catch up on or finish 👀) and is a hilarious person as she is kind.

4. @soft-girl-musings Another fellow black writer who’s “Perhaps, Perhaps, Perhaps” 1920’s or 40’s (I’m not great with telling time obviously 🙄 ) has me wondering what’s going to happen next, what is going on in that club and where else am I going to see curly haired Marcello is going to pop up at. 🤣

5. @ramblers-lets-get-ramblin The Mistress of Agnst. Her masterlist is for those who aren’t afraid to explore the darker side and stories that may not have happy endings but you’ll still feel satisfied that to finished it. To feel another type of satisfaction, you’ll need to read her smut and seek your other completion there. ☺️ You’ll be thankful for both rides.

6. @pedroshotwifey A newer moot to me who has equal parts smut, agnst and dabs of darkness in there. What can I say? I like dark fics if they’re just right. Like I like my crime dramas and cop procederals. 🤣 She and I have a good time supporting each other and exchanging thots. Her “To The Flame” series has set the reader up for what may be a spectacular fall or maybe she’ll find her way out? Only she knows.

7. @magpiepills Ezra’s second wife (because @morallyinept is his first wife and I think @maggiemayhemnj is the paramour - because it sounds fancy) The amount of filthy things she’s had him do both with one arm and two is something everyone should read twice. I also especially enjoyed her fic “Aquarius” which a whore version of Javier Peña that spoke strongly to me. Or maybe parts of me, let’s not split hairs. 🤭

8. @angelofsmalldeath-codeine She’ll say she’s not a writer. BUT as all writers know, we don’t do very well if someone isn’t reading stuff we toss out into the ether. Hemmy is as supportive as they come, reblogging and offering many a thot as both the High Chancellor of the Horny Delegation and as a friend. ❤️ Plus she supports my very soft bois Dieter and Javi G. 😆 She I think was one of the main reasons I wrote more of “Weddings 101 with Dieter.” She asked me something along the lines of, “is there more to this? This is a very cool or unique premise.” As she well knows, just tell me I did something well and I’m happy as a pearl in a clam. 🤣

Fanfic author ask game

Thanks for the ask Em! Just know I pretty much write paragraphs because I gotta explain. 🤭 I’m Nerdie and I’m wordy. 😚 I had to make one bad joke. You have to be able to tell it’s me.

[izukuwus]

Boiling Point 3: ...Will Still Boil Over Eventually - Miguel O'Hara/Reader (NSFW)

First - Prev - Next - M.list - Ao3

A/N: well folks and strokes I have no self control. this was originally supposed to be the finale, but lol. lmao, even. you didn't really expect me to finish a storyline in only three parts?

Summary: You reach your boiling point.

Notes: sub drop, a frankly ill-advised length of time to be edging oneself

Word count: 3317 words!

It is day…

uh…

(What fucking day is it again?)

You’re tired. You’re bored. You’re horny. And that handsome motherfucker sent you a carousel of Spiders to explicitly make sure that you were actually resting in the time he so generously gave you.

Your package delivery was delayed by a combination of bad luck and worse luck, apparently, because it should have been here by now. You stopped bothering keeping up with your journaling partway through this, namely because you were starting to become hyper-aware of all your negative traits when you wrote them down (teenage boy levels of horniness and anger, mostly) and also because you’re starting to feel… low. Low low. Low low low low low.

The part of you that’s desperate for sex with a man you’ll never have or even just a fucking release at this point is losing out to your deep-seated need to be right. And in your contract, you said until the new vibe arrives. So, you are stuck waiting, lest you prove yourself completely slutty and undisciplined. And you are not slutty or undisciplined.

The worst part, you think, is the understimulation. Sure, you’ve got hobbies, but you don’t want to do any of them right now. You want to get someone’s hand on your tits and teeth on your neck, or else you want to hook yourself up to a vibrator until you discover new frontiers of consciousness and burn out the motor on that one, too, or else you want to lay here and rot. And fuck it, you can’t do any of that, because you still have your shitty office work to attend to, which doesn’t even distract you from the real problems in the world: dimensional anomalies, stopping criminals, and the criminal lack of dimensionally anomalous dick in your mouth.

Honestly, at first, it was sexy. You liked the little thrill of rolling over in bed and seeing your contract and knowing that you’re being so good even without a dom to make it so. You liked the idea of the denial, the promise of a new toy coming as a reward for all the longing in the meantime. Part of you still does, but that part has been glazed over with a level of self-loathing that usually being a Spider wipes away.

If you were worth anything, you wouldn’t have to enforce this yourself.

If you were worth anything, someone would be telling you what a good girl you’ve been, that you’ve worked so hard for this, that you’ve earned the right to cum.

Admit it.

You’re not doing this alone to prove a point.

You’re doing this alone because no one is ever going to do it for you. Not for long, at least.

You know two ways to fill time and void—searching for good views from too-tall buildings and masturbation. The too-tall buildings frustrate you even more, because occasionally one of your coverage Spider-Men will swing in and remind you that you’re under strict orders to rest, or worse, you’ll see them at work and know that Miguel has probably instructed them to web you to a wall if you try to help with YOUR job, and then you just feel even more useless and angry and empty.

Okay, so skyscraper sightseeing is out. What about masturbation?

Yeah, that’ll work. Add more sexual frustration to your sexual frustration. You like sexual frustration, right? Clearly, since you’re still doing this bullshit. Go ahead, we put some sexual frustration on your sexual frustration so you can get sexually frustrated while you experience some light sexual frustration. This can only serve to alleviate your problems. Clearly. Dumbass.

…you make sure to leave your wristband in the other room before you take your pants off.

And you know what? Maybe it’s the demon on your shoulder egging you on when you slip two fingers inside yourself and fantasize in scraps of images—sharp teeth, big muscles, webs holding down your wrists—and chase release, but you no longer care about the stupid fucking contract or your stupid fucking delayed package or your stupid fucking—

There is a noise in the other room.

A noise that sounds suspiciously like an incoming call on your wristband.

You can’t help it. Fuck your neighbors. You actually scream.

Okay. You’re overreacting. Walk it back. This is good. You didn’t break the contract, because you didn’t cum, and that call probably means you’re back in business and able to be a fucking Spider again.

So really, you're glad you got a call. You wash your hands, you scrub extra hard. You make sure your Spider suit is on, you make sure you're wearing casual clothes with the zippers all pulled and hiding your suit. When you're calm and collected and ready, the dread and self-hatred is still there, as is the frustration, but you didn't spend years in customer service without learning how to wear a smile even when the only desire you have left in your little heart is that lingering drive to take up serial killing.

You find the wristband on the coffee table. Slip it on. Hit the button to call back.

And there he is: man of the hour, loathe of your life, Miguel O'Hara. You've been trying not to think of him by his full name only, but it isn't working, mostly because you've also been halfway trying to not think of him at all.

You don't really process most of the conversation, too busy floating in the space between "horny" and "dead inside", but you do hear the words "we need you back on to help with an anomaly" pretty fucking clear, and you know damn well you wouldn't say no to that.

"Give me two minutes to get changed," you manage, already pulling at the shorts you so carefully hid your Spider suit under.

"You get one and a half.”

Aw, he's cute. Miguel's holo is looking away from you, and it blinks out of existence in the time it takes you to get your free hand hooked under your waistband. He's not flustered; you're not sure that's possible, but his unnecessary display of respect is endearing.

You're ready to go in one. You take the thirty seconds remaining to fix your hair and play it cool, even if you're now stuck between excited, horny, and dead. I heard, if you add a fourth emotion to the mix, you can build a house out of your weird bullshit and finally put a ceiling on it. Give it a try sometime!

You slip into spidery actions the same way you do swimming pools—the initial drop of your stomach, water too cold on your toes, New York City but Wrong, then the adjusting. You always adjust. Anomalies blur together for you by now, amalgamate into a series of fun diversions that lower your stress and put the pieces of you back together in the process.

They’re supposed to put you back together.

They’re supposed to put you back together.

The anomaly is dealt with. You’re spidering again. You got your rush from the heights and the wind against your mask, your adrenaline from a fight gone well. You returned to HQ with your partners from this little adventure no worse for the wear, and even Miguel has afforded you an approving nod at the work you’ve done.

You’ve done a good job. A great job. Something has pushed out the rage in you and taken its place, but you know better. This fight against this anomaly did not, in fact, put you back together.

You need to go home. You have to report in, first. It’s redundant. You need to leave. You’re doing good. You need to smile and do it anyways.

Your smile is heavy, so heavy, nearly impossible to drag out of you. You wish you could leave it where it sits in the pits of you, go home and find a cave to live in where civilization is not and no one can ever make you smile again because—

You need to stop everything there is danger there is danger you need to MOVE—

You jolt away, violent, exaggerated, but it’s just Peter, frozen with his elbow raised awkwardly, halfway to nudging your side for your attention.

“[name]?”

“Sorry,” you mumble, as though that does anything, for anyone, ever, at all. It does nothing, in fact, and you’re hyper-aware of that. An explanation might help. “My head’s not back in this dimension yet.” Great explanation. You’re winning at this. I’m so proud of you.

“Right,” Miguel says. “Your report?”

“Oh. Right.” You rattle off the details. They’re hardly anything worth reporting, really. When you’re done, there’s a heavy silence in the room. Everything’s heavy right now, kind of. Like that week away turned the multiverse into molasses.

You glance up through the silence to see that Miguel is staring you down. Okay, more like looking at you, but it all feels the same right now, your skin crawling at being perceived at all.

“Are we done?” The words come out too aggressive. You’re not angry; you’re not anything. The words are just too heavy to drag out without a little bit of bluntness. You hope he won’t take it as a challenge.

“You did good.”

Fucking hell.

You didn’t brace yourself for that one.

There’s motions between you hearing the words and you being on the floor. There must be, because you were on your feet, and now you are not. The heels of your palms press against your eyes, you’re gasping for air, and—

Oh. You’re crying your eyes out.

Are you sure you’re not overreacting a bit?

Heightened spider senses inform you someone is reaching for you, begs you to move, screams at you to throw them away and make sure no one ever touches you again, but you’re too caught up in the tears to do a thing about it, too caught up in the waves finally crashing down on you and shredding your skin in the sand of all the resentments you’ve been building, too caught up too caught up too caught up—

Woah, hey, let’s take a deep breath—

Out.

I’m not just going to leave them crying on the floor—

Out!

—someone is touching you someone is holding you leave me alone leave me ALONE—

LYLA. Portal back to their home dimension. Now, please.

Already on it. I’ll send for Jess.

Good thinking. I’ll be back.

~

Miguel is careful not to jostle you too much as he sets you on your couch. You dissolved into tears and are still dissolving now, wordless. He shakes his head at the sight.

When he realized what was going on and placed you on leave, he had sort of been trying to avoid a situation that looked a lot like this. He tells himself there was only so much he could do and not a single right answer to keep you from steering yourself straight off an emotional cliff.

Well, that’s not right. There had been a right answer; it just wasn’t the one he chose. The least he can do is stay with you until you’re stable. The least he can do is see you through this drop.

You’re not talking yet, so he tears away from you to search for anything you might want for aftercare and tries to run the autopsy report of his latest failure.

Admittedly, he misjudged what a compliment would do to you, so close to the edge. The goal really had had been to uplift you. He could have done worse. It’s not like he broke out the ‘good girl’. And yeah, maybe it was too jarring coming from his mouth after the last time you spoke in person.

Maybe he was just too late. By the time he got to you, you were already locked in. Even before that, you were acting more reckless than usual. Really, he was the one who should have seen it coming and put a stop to it day one. He should know better by now, when it comes to you.

He’s on autopilot, so he grabs the fluffiest-looking blanket from the pile on your bed, the most hug-worthy pillow, and returns to wrap you up.

You accept the pillow wordlessly, don’t even bother resisting when he wraps the blanket around you. You’ve gone from sobbing to sniffles, but he’s got work to do yet.

“Better?” he asks, voice low. His voice comes out gentle, even gentler than he was shooting for, and he curses the effect you have on him like he does every time.

You eye him warily, nod silently. You’re all verb-adverb right now, it seems, but at least you are a little better.

“What do you usually do for this?” he asks, and okay, maybe that’s a little up front, given the way you jolt and shift your expression to a glare.

“What makes you think I do anything?”

He lets out a little huff, settles in on the couch next to you. “You haven’t figured out by now how to handle yourself?”

“I can handle myself just fine, and if you even begin to act otherwise I swear to god—“

“Have I ever said you can’t?”

“You put me on leave. For a week. Not just from interdimensional stuff, but from protecting my own city. What the hell else is that supposed to say?”

Oh. You completely misinterpreted him, didn’t you?

“It means that I thought you needed the rest and correctly gauged that you wouldn’t take it willingly. If I was wrong, then you wouldn’t be crying on your couch right now, would you?” He cringes internally. That came out wrong.

“It’s not like it prevented it,” you mutter.

He sighs. You’re not being very receptive, and he needs to get the right words in his head in the right order with the right tone before he makes things even worse. So he stands and begins walking to your door.

“Where are you going?” you call after him, and your voice is small enough that he nearly stops.

No, Miguel. Control yourself.

“Checking your mail.”

“You’re going to walk all the way down the stairs to the mailboxes on the first floor? You’re going to unlock my mailbox with a mail key you don’t have, and—“

By your front door, there’s three hooks with keys. One is labeled “mail”. He picks it up, then glances back to where you’re craning your neck over the back of your couch. His hand is already on the door, and he’s firmly unbothered by your attempts to protest with logic.

“You’re in your Spider suit, stupid. Do you want people to see you walking out of my apartment? Trying to give away my secret identity? It’s not like people aren’t gonna notice one of the Spider’s caked-up new friends walking around the apartment building—“

…Caked-up?

He shakes his head and opens the door anyway. You make a good point about him being in his suit, but it’s not like he can’t handle himself for one trip to the first floor and—

Oh. There’s a package on the floor in front of your door.

That’s good enough. He’ll bring that inside.

~

“Your neighbor got your mail by accident,” Miguel says, already walking back from the door. “Let’s see, he says…” In one hand, he reads from what looks to be a hand-written note, and in the other…

You catch sight of the logo emblazoned on the side of the envelope he carries and have to kill the screech in your throat. Whatever pathetic tears you were crying for stupid reasons before mean nothing now.

You’re so fucking glad you bought from a new sex shop this time. You’re so fucking glad this one doesn’t have some super obvious name that makes it very clear that the Sex Toy Destroyer Himself was carrying your replacement for all the toys he personally destroyed. Hell no, you’re not taking credit for those. You’re not the insanely hot one here.

Of course. Of course you would have a completely unprecedented breakdown in HQ directly in front of Miguel. Of course he’d stick around to make sure you weren’t completely useless. Of course your new toy would show up whenever Miguel decides to be weirdly nice and bring in your mail for you. How else would things go? You’re the one with all the luck here.

Miguel is mid-sentence saying something you’ve been completely not listening to, and you do feel guilty for that, but come on. It’s taking everything in you not to freak out. You’re giving yourself whiplash just trying to calm down. Like, it’s normal. People receive mail sometimes, idiot, and sometimes that mail gets delivered to the wrong place, and that’s good and normal, and sometimes your neighbor is kind enough to leave it on your doorstep with a note, and sometimes—

“He’s asking you on a date.”

“What?” In less than a second, your web is on the back of the page, and Miguel lets it sail from his hand and into yours. “Let me see that.”

Holy shit. Your neighbor returned your sex toy he mistakenly got in the mail and asked you out to coffee sometime. You check the unit number he listed—motherfucker. He’s the one that shares a wall with your bedroom. He’s probably heard more than he hasn’t. You sure fucking have.

You let out a low groan. Eyes flick to Miguel. It’s not like that particular bad idea is going anywhere, and you’re basically the ruler of Definitely Healthy Coping Mechanisms anyway, so maybe—

“That was nice of him. Is he actually worth your time, though?”

The sentences are so weird coming from his mouth that a little jolt of laughter bubbles out of you. “Why are you being so weird? That was almost nice. You’re supposed to be all, tough love and everyone thinks you’re mad even when you’re being nice.”

He blinks. Stares at you a moment. “You just had a complete breakdown.”

“Yes, thank you for reminding me.” You’re doing a tremendous job at ignoring that fact, thank you very much. “…Thanks for the consideration, though. And probably not. He’s like, not unattractive, I guess, but, you know. Can’t shake the feeling that he’s only asking me out because he shares a wall with my bedroom.”

Miguel arches a brow.

Oh, fuck. That’s sexual connotations. I mean, sexual meaning, too, but come the fuck on. You’ve got to be more restrained than that. What were those two weeks of training for?

“…right. Anything good?” He gives the package a little shake, and you remember how fucking precarious your situation is in this moment.

Another web snatches the envelope from him. He seems nearly amused by your reaction, based on vibes. Deadpan as always, but if you’re not mistaken, there’s a slight spark in his eyes. “What could you possibly have ordered?”

“Nothing.”

“Given that you just snatched it out of my hands…”

“Nothing,” you repeat. It’s meant to be emphatic, but you just sound whiny. You blame the post-cry snottiness.

He sits directly across from you. “No, open it. You don’t have to wait for me to leave if you’re that excited for it.”

“I’m good.” Your voice pitches high. “Really. Thanks for all your help today. You can go.”

He stares. You begin to sweat.

“Look. I was really hoping you’d figure discipline out on your own with all that time I gave you, but I guess not.”

“If… if you wanted me to be doing something specific with the past boring-as-shit week, why didn’t you tell me what it was?”

He sighs. “If you think two weeks of edging yourself without aftercare is discipline, then I guess I have to be the one to teach you.”

…oh.

Huh.

Fuck.

Tags: @deeplightgarden @idonthaveanameideayet @dusstory @roxannarichie @vegas-writing-den @cooch1ecruncher @bluepeanutharmony @instanttragedyfire @yohoe-hoe @ambientcryptidsounds

If you'd like to be tagged, shoot me a message or an ask, or ask here in the replies, tags, or reblogs and let me know what you'd like to be tagged in (all works, all miguel works, this series in particular, etc.). If your name appears on this list but is not underlined and you didn't get a notification, please check to make sure that your blog is NOT set to not appear in search results in your blog settings! If you've got that set that way for a particular reason, consider subscribing to the fic on ao3 for an equivalent update notification, as I always crosspost simultaneously! After three unsuccessful tagging attempts, you will be removed from the list.

As always, thanks for reading! <3

[ingravinoveritas]

Hi! :) So, about posting habits and copying:

Georgia posts this screenshot of someone asking her to tell David that they're in love with him/want to marry him (not sure anymore, but I'm counting on you to remember haha), responding yeah, I'll get right to that, or something akin to that.

It's funny enough and her reply doesn't come across as anything more than humorous, in my opinion, especially since we've seen this theme for years, on Twitter and Instagram. It's on-brand-Georgia.

Her tone, albeit the sarcasm, is still pretty nice, playing the ball back by pretending that she's not telling David because then she'd have to compete with the person who wrote in. I'm sure whoever texted her this was giggling at their phone when Georgia responded. I'm not sure if the same thing will be the case with fan interaction number two, however: Cue, Anna.

Because now, a few days later, Anna posts what is pretty much the same interaction with a fan (about Michael, obv.), but all the charme is gone? Or is that just me?

Let's get something straight, though: The fan message she got was a lot less "sweet" than the one Georgia received (how many kisses does it take for a message to become either passive aggressive or just too hyper or even kind of insincere in tone?), so I won't be too harsh on her for responding in kind (xxxx). Still, had me cringe a little.

Thing is, the more or less blatant copying of Georgia's social media voice keeps fascinating me. Whilst, at most times, it's obvious but still fine as its own thing, this time the whole post really just seemed too...Georgia. Firstly, because it really is like a total replica, secondly because Georgia has worn the "playfully possessive"-badge for years now. I'm not saying that Anna is just pretending to also be that, I genuinely don't think that's true, at least not fully, but what I am saying is that she's clearly aware of this sort of humour being well-received within the fandom and also very intentional about timing. It's always... funny? Noticable? exactly when these "replica posts" appear.

Although, in this case we also have to consider that she responded at the time she got the message (or a day later, at most), so the timing isn't really on her. In fact, this might just be a fan actively going for having the same interaction with Anna that another fan had with Georgia, basically setting her up. Especially considering how the DM was worded - again, it seemed a little too intentional/over the top.

(But yeah, a couple of hours earlier: The Tennant's face sitting post (and, whew lol), so is this trying to somehow keep up with their dynamic again?)

I want to stress that I don't think that any of this is a bad thing. There's literally no harm in her trying to cater to the fandom with this tone of voice and seeming a bit unoriginal. And what do we know, maybe she and Georgia really are that similiar, it's not like Georgia's humour and interactions are that singular. But I'm still having a different response to Georgia's posts in comparison to Anna's, even though they are so similiar, and that's what it comes down to.

Maybe that's completely unfair towards Anna (to some degrees it must be, since Georgia simply has been around longer and therefore claimed her kind of tone, if that's even a thing), but maybe it also comes down to authenticity - or a lack thereoff?

(Grouping these together since they are related.) Well, I hadn't seen AL's story this morning until I got your message @wanderingsemi, so thank you for the heads up. And it is, as you said, an almost exact replica of an Insta story Georgia posted a week ago. Let's get the visual up here, so folks can see both stories:

So, the first thing I will say is that I often have difficulty with discerning people's tones online, as the lack of vocal inflection/other indicators tends to make things challenging. I appreciate you sharing that Georgia's tone came across as humorous to you, because while I definitely did get the sarcasm, I also felt a sense of contempt coming from Georgia's reply, too. I do agree, however, that her response was very much "her," in her trademark style, and is something we've come to expect over the last few years now.

It's probably worth mentioning that these are both odd/weird things to send to your fave's partners. I know social media has largely eroded a sense of boundaries in a lot of fans, but it's just an awkward thing to say overall. (I submit that it's actually more awkward/inappropriate than RPF, because RPF is fantasy and is not something any of these people would come into direct contact with unless they went looking for it.) That being said, while neither Georgia nor AL can control the things fans send to them, they can choose to respond (or not) to said comments. So thinking about your Ask, @armangelus, we have Georgia here essentially doing the same thing as AL--being possessive of David in response to a random DM--yet the results are wildly different.

Which then brings me to AL's response. Going back to our discussion on tone, I am not sure that I interpreted the message AL got as being "less sweet" than the one Georgia received, as they seem incredibly similar to me. I'm not sure the message-sender was actually being passive-aggressive, but because AL seemed to look at it that way, it is then reflected in her response (and is fitting with her past responses/personality, which has been passive-aggressive on multiple occasions).

For a little backstory (and this largely comes from @problematicwelshman, whose blog is well worth reading for a lot of tea related to Michael and AL going back to 2019): AL's social media was entirely scrubbed when her and Michael's relationship first came to light (end of June 2019). This also coincided with Michael's longtime PR person quitting, and a seeming overhaul of AL's social media presence. Initially, though, a lot of her posts were in her own voice, but they did not seem to go over well/she was not connecting with the fandom (see this post for links to examples, most of which involve belittling Michael/making fun of his weight and appearance).

Then in mid-2021, this all shifted with an event Michael appeared at for the 150th birthday of the Royal Albert Hall. Suddenly AL was praising and complimenting him in ways she never had in any of her past posts. This also happened to coincide with Georgia starting the #Shebergs hashtag (which sounds like an iceberg, a.k.a. the thing that took down the Titanic, so I'm still not sure why that was chosen as a portmanteau of AL and Michael's names), as well as AL promoting Last Train to Christmas, a movie of Michael's that she appeared in that was released at the end of 2021. So this was another social media overhaul/PR effort, seemingly perfectly timed with AL having something to promote and trying to advance her acting career.

But what this was also the start of is what you alluded to, which is that inauthenticity. I can completely understand you having a different reaction to AL's story than Georgia's, because as you said, that charm is not there, which I think is because it's Georgia's charm, not Anna's. And as much as she might copy Georgia's tone or the types of content she posts, you can't really copy charm--it's either something you have, or something you don't. I think it also ties into the other thing you referenced, which is the "playfully possessive" thing. It actually is something that Anna has copied, also on multiple occasions (see below)...but much like with this story, it doesn't come across the same way as when Georgia does it:

(Another notable thing about the response on the left is that AL was not even tagged in the original tweet, which also copies Georgia's pattern of randomly replying to fans on Twitter--usually as a result of searching David's name, which she has been known to do.)

So yes, I think we can definitely see a clear pattern here, which has seemingly only become more blatant as of late. And while I agree there is no harm on one level of trying to appeal to the fandom, I don't think it's unfair to AL at all because there is such a clear, agenda to what she is doing that becomes more obvious as you look back over the past few years. That, in my opinion, is what makes it seem so forced and not genuine, and is why one might feel a different reaction to her post versus Georgia's.

Those are pretty much my thoughts, rambling as they were. I appreciate both of you sharing yours as well so that we could have this discussion. Thanks for writing in! x

[thana-topsy]

Fic Writer Interview

Tagged by @mongoose-bite ! Thanks so much, crunchy. :)

I'm tagging whoever else wants to chime in! I lose track of who all on here I should be tagging lol. Or who might actually want to participate in such a thing.

----

How many works do you have on AO3?

38

2. What’s your total AO3 word count? 643,096 words Mostly written within the last 5 years!

3. What are your top 5 fics by kudos?

Breathing Water - My flagship fic for the longest time. It still holds up 4 years later! And I'm still simping for Neloth.

Halfway to the Sky - Coming in with only about 30 kudos less than BW, I'm always tickled and humbled and just so honored that so many people like this story.

The Shadow Over Solstheim - This one had the most kudos for the longest time just because it's my oldest multi-chapter fic. Baby's first foray into something more than a smutty one-shot! My writing is unpolished and my lore knowledge is amateurish at best, but it's just so full of verve.

Hollow Men - A fic I honestly didn't expect many people to read due to the subject matter, but one that's near and dear to my heart.

Invictus - The bonkers, off-the-rails sequel to Shadow Over Solstheim in which Topsy discovers TES Lore in real time as they write. I don't think I could ever write something this free again even if I wanted to. I'm too burdened by knowledge (much like Teldryn).

4. Do you respond to comments? Why or why not?

I try to respond to almost every comment, but sometimes I get stuck with Comment Paralysis and they just pile up in my inbox until I'm thoroughly overwhelmed. I read every single comment and blush and kick my feet excitedly, though.

5. What’s the fic you’ve written with the angstiest ending?

Hmmm... I don't really do angsty endings. I like pleasant, contented endings, sometimes bittersweet, sometimes open-ended. But I guess Dreamers, my Hadvar/Ralof fic as it currently stands, has the angstiest ending. At least until I manage to finish the final chapter...

6. What’s the fic you’ve written with the happiest ending?

Uhhhh... They're all pretty happy, from my perspective at least. Maybe Finding Mara takes home the gold for happiest ending. (Erandur takes home the gold, too -snerk-)

7. Do you write crossovers?

I have written exactly one crossover and it's the oldest fic on my AO3 (from 2014). Otherwise, they're fun to think about, but nah. Not really.

8. Have you ever received hate on a fic?

If you count an entire series of callout posts, years of harassment, and people jumping to conclusions over a fic they never even read, then the answer is yes.

9. Do you write smut? If so, what kind?

Yes. All kinds, but generally smut with a purpose. "Porn with plot" as they say. I write smut that zooms into the characters' heads, prys open their wants and desires and fears and insecurities. I write smut that can get a little hyper-realistic, to the point of sometimes being kind of gross. I write smut as a form of raw expression, people at their most vulnerable, literally stripped bare. It's one of my favorite things to write because it is an endless exercise in character study, in boundaries, in what it means to consent, and how the lines between who we think we are and what others perceive us to be get so easily blurred.

10. Have you ever had a fic stolen?

If I have, they've gotten away with it.

11. Have you ever had a fic translated?

Yes, once! Someone asked if they could translate the first chapter of Halfway to the Sky into Russian.

12. Have you ever co-written a fic before?

Yes, back when I first joined the TES fandom. Two of my fandom bests at the time co-wrote a couple of stories with me. One is posted to AO3 (Ceasefire), and the other was a horny, whirlwind, feverdream of a fic that the other author and I mutually agreed we would probably never share with the greater world lol. We are still bests to this day and I often revisit that fic in awe and bafflement of our energy.

13. What’s your all-time favorite ship?

It's so tough to choose, honestly, but I gotta go with Neloth/Teldryn, because it just took me by surprise and spun out into something so wild and wonderful.

14. What’s a WIP that you want to finish but don’t think you ever will?

I never say never with my WIPs. If I've learned anything over the past 5 years in this fandom, it's that I'll pick an old WIP up on a whim. I do wanna get back to my Arvel the Swift WIP at some point. I also started working on a Dark Brotherhood-centric fic last year, too. And so help me Talos I am going to finish Dreamers.

15. What are your writing strengths?

Dialogue. People talk in my head and I just write it down. It usually ends up sounding pretty natural. And pacing. I feel like I manage pacing pretty well and can make good calls as to when a scene is dragging or we need to skip forward in time a bit.

16. What are your writing weaknesses?

Wordiness. Relying too much on "feeling" words. Telling instead of showing more than I need to. Repetitive sentence structure. My goal in 2024 is to become more direct and succinct with my writing style.

17. What are your thoughts on writing dialogue in other languages in a fic?

Eh... I've done it before. I threw in a lot of Dunmeris and Ta'agra back in the day when I was first writing TES fic, but I'd say just use italics and translate what's being said. Or, alternatively, if the POV character can't understand what's being said, don't even use dialogue, just mention that it's being spoken. It's all gobbledygook to them anyways.

18. What was the first fandom you wrote for?

Yu Yu Hakusho (in 2004)

19. What’s a fandom/ship you haven’t written for yet but want to?

I'm monogamous with my fandom currently, so I'd really love to write something with Cicero, because it's been a long time coming.

20. What’s your favorite fic you’ve written?

That's really hard to choose. They're all my favorite when I'm writing them. Each fic is its own little relationship for me. I don't write things unless I'm absolutely in love with what I'm writing. So they're all my favorite, in that sense.

[whatisreggieshortfor]

Hey! I was just wondering if you could do reader breaking their ankle at Volleyball practice with the Msby four?? You don't have to!! Just a random thing bc I broke my ankle doing a set wrong lol. Love ur Blog!!

-👹

I will be referring to you as Demon Senpai, because of the emoji you used and i adore Yaku.

I didn’t know if you wanted platonic, or something like my WWE fic, but I did this and I hope it’s okay, but I can do another one too.

The sickening crack echoed through the gym, most of the other MSBY players having cleared out by now. Sakusa’s head snapped over from where he stood at the bleachers chugging his water bottle down, praying to every god he’d ever heard of that it was Atsumu.

But the lack of whining replaced by a string of apologies being shouted in the familiar accent, followed by the two most hyper players screaming like someone had been murdered, told him what he already knew in his chest. His feet thudded the floor as he sprinted back to where you were curled up on yourself, clutching your calf in your hands as you looked horrified at your own ankle. He shoved Atsumu out of the way when the setter seemed determined to figure out the issue himself, Sakusa knelt at your side, “Y/N,” your eyes shot over to his, trying and failing to stifle the tears that built up, “I’m going to pick you up, okay, love? I need to carry you to the medic.” The pain you were in kept either of you from registering the pet name.

“No, Kiyoomi, I’m all sweaty. You just showered, you’ll hate getting sweat all over you again.” His heart clenched. He could see how much pain you were in, your ankle already swelling and turning an ugly purple color, but you were worried about his discomfort. It was why he loved you.

Without a word, he shifted his arms under your knees and around your torso, hoisting you into his chest, “Don’t worry about me, idiot. Let’s get you to a doctor.”

Atsumu felt like absolute garbage, ending his extra practice as soon as you’d gotten hurt. You were his friend, and he knew Sakusa- he shuddered. He didn’t want to think about whatever Sakusa was going to do to him in retaliation for hurting his “not-a-crush-because-I’m-an-adult” crush. The faux blonde paled when Hinata ran back in the room, announcing that your ankle was casted. He was debating on hiding when Bokuto followed Hinata into the gym, telling him that Sakusa was helping you back.

The gym was absolute chaos when you entered, arm hooked around Sakusa’s shoulders at his insistence when he realized you were determined to hop on one foot to get your stuff. Not because he wanted you to hold onto him, no you shook that thought from your head right away, no sense in getting your hopes up.

Sakusa helped you onto the bench, making you promise to stay put as he moved to the locker room to collect your gym bag. Atsumu almost felt like he could die on the spot when Sakusa glared at him as he passed- the blonde was pretty sure the spiker was who people had in mind when they said ‘if looks could kill’.

You barely had time to register there was someone in front of you before Bokuto and Hinata were jumping around, careful in a way they usually weren’t so they didn’t jostle your leg, “Guys, guys, I’m okay. Really. Just a minor break. I’ll be back on the court before you know it.”

“You absolutely will not.” You looked up at Sakusa’s glare, cringing a little to yourself. “The doctor told you at least three weeks with the cast, and another three of working the ankle before you set foot on the court again.”

You pouted, looking down at the mentioned cast and missing the way his eyes softened with sympathy and worry, “Can you guys at least sign this stupid thing? I hate it already. Looks so plain.”

Sakusa rolled his eyes, “Fine.” He stepped over to his own bag, pulling out a marker and handing it to Hinata first, who wrote his name larger than nicer with a doodle of a sun, and then Bokuto who drew an owl instead of writing his name at all. Sakusa signed next, writing a short message in his neat scrawl, ‘Just remember to smile.’ before signing his name.

“Atsumu!” You called to the blonde that hadn’t stepped foot near you since you got back, “Aren’t you going to sign it?” Sakusa made a noise of protest, not only because it was Atsumu’s need for extra practice that got you hurt, but because he hated witnessing how close the two of you were sometimes. The setter made his way over in a silence that wasn’t familiar with him, glancing at Sakusa after reading his message, before grabbing the marker with a smirk.

You felt your skin blaze when you saw what he’d written. ‘Just ask him out already’ with an arrow pointing to Sakusa’s name. You glared at your best friend, “You asshole. You said you wouldn’t say anything.”

“And I didn’t. Not a word left ma lips.”

“Say anything about what?” You closed your eyes, not wanting to face Sakusa and the rejection and loss of friendship you expected to follow.

“Ya can’t be that dumb with how much ya yell at me fer bein’ stupid, Omi-Omi. Y/N likes ya.” The setter smirked at you, “There, now I said something.”

You lunged at him, almost toppling to the floor when you only had one leg of support. The only thing that stopped you was the spiker’s hands catching your waist. “Do you?”

Unable to look him in the eye, you nodded, staring at the floor. “I’m sorry.”

You didn’t see it, but Sakusa rolled his eyes with a fond smile hidden behind his mask, “The only thing you should be sorry for is worrying me, idiot.” He helped you position your crutches as you stared at him dumbfounded, grabbing your bag with his and gesturing you toward the door.

“Where are we going?”

He glanced at you as the other players watched in shock, “Getting take out, then heading to my place for a movie. Ordinarily I’d take you out for our first date, but we’ll save that for after you heal.” You felt like your heart was going to explode when he winked, scrambling to catch up on your crutches.

Masterlist

[becausegoodheroesdeservekidneys]

Doctor Who, but Chronologically: 32

Second half of the two-parter! The Doctor gets them out of it by making a radio go all loud and gross. I too get sensory overload. I feel sorry for these Daleks.

Anyway, this is actually a very fun and intriguing bit of plotting – the Daleks, now led by the human-dalek hybrid that is Dalek Sec with a beard of penises, have been stockpiling humans. Dalek Sec wants to make lots of hybrids, using a lightning strike to the Empire State Building – now with those Dalek bumps on – to power it. So far so normal, except Dalek Sec has caught human feelings, and now thinks they need to Embrace Emotion. He wants the Doctor to help, so that they might have lots of little humany Daleks running about, and also so they can be taken to a new planet and allowed to start a new race.

This goes down with the other Daleks of the Cult of Skaro approximately as well as a priceless porcelain vase being fired down a fifty foot well out of a cannon. Inevitably, mutiny occurs. They tamper with the gene solution so that the hybrids created will be, like, super Daleky, no emotions. They also make Dalek Sec wear a collar and leash and crawl around on a stage, because even Daleks have kinks I guess.

Fortunately, Martha, Frank, Tallulah and Lazlo manage to hold off the pig slaves (actually, Martha has the genius idea to rig up a set of metal poles so that the lightning that strikes the Empire Stake Building will fry the pig slaves in the lift, because Martha is brilliant and hyper-competent) long enough for the Doctor to get up to the main mast and remove the Dalek bumps. Except he doesn’t do it in time, so he just wraps himself about the mast like a koala and screams as the lightning hits him too. This means the hybrids have Time Lord DNA, and so turn on the Daleks; Daleks Thay, Jast and Sec are all killed, but Dalek Caan survives.

“The only Dalek left in the universe,” the Doctor says sorrowfully. “Like I’m the only Time Lord left.”

We have literally seen Daleks with both Smith and Capaldi, and more than one at that, so lol no. What a silly continuity error! It’s almost like this watch order is completely broken.

HOWEVER is that the first mention that the Doctor is the only Time Lord left? I think it is! Gosh, I wonder what happened to the others?

Other notes – Martha is great again. Something that gets clearer and clearer when you watch this way is that RTD really knows what the point of a companion is and how to use them – neither Moffatt nor Chibnell do. Well; Moffatt has an idea, actually, it’s just a very bad idea because he thinks they’re props for the Doctor’s Man Pain rather than characters in their own right. Chibnell straight up does not know. Ironic, given that he gave himself three at a time, and there’s not enough for even one of them to do.

But RTD companions are co-protagonists; Martha in this episode actually has a fairly small showing, comparatively, but still gets to use her medical skills, break into the Empire State Building, find out exactly where the all-important Dalek bumps that need removing are, and rig up the pipework to electrocute the pig slaves. If you wrote her out, you would need to change the plot to get it all to work still, AND would lose important humanising story elements. It would, quite literally, be a worse story without her. In the last two Yaz episodes, if she was removed there would be no difference or impact whatsoever.

And, in a final moment of glory for the comparisons, as they stand in a theatre before the final showdown, waiting for the Daleks to arrive, the Doctor turns to Martha and tells her to run.

“No,” she says. “I told you I’m staying.”

“And I told you it’s not safe!” the Doctor snarls. “Leave! I’m giving you an order!”

And Martha squares the fuck up to him and says “So who are you, then, some sort of Dalek?”

Lol

(Compare: Amy, the “spunky no-nonsense one”, scurrying immediately back to the TARDIS without a word as the Doctor yells at her to leave.)

ANYWAY, fun episode! Weird accents! Very bizarre that Spider-Man was in it! Let’s update the plot threads.

Oh, on the subject of which, I realised yesterday I’ve forgotten to tick one off: now that we’ve met Dead!Bill and heard she was cyber-converted, we know the answer to “Who did the Doctor lose to Cyber conversion?” Sorry about this shameful lack of consistency at my end.

“She” (an unknown person) is returning (perhaps River returned as Missy. Maybe Me? Maybe Clara???!)

There is something on Donna’s back

An entire planet, Pyrovilia, just… disappeared, somehow. (Maybe because the TARDIS is exploding??? Saturnine was also lost, and that WAS because of the TARDIS exploding. The lion man’s planet was also lost but he was a bit of a knob about it if I’m honest.)

Amy is maybe dead (she’s not)

The Doctor has been cubed (he’s out, but how?)

River is possibly blown up  (unless she’s Missy)

The TARDIS has blown up  (It’s fine now. Except it’s sort of melting now because it’s corrupted, but it’s fine again)

The universe appears to have ended  (the universe is back again)

The Doctor has employed(?) Nardole

(And Nardole was “reassembled???” Nardole had glass nipples and invisible hair?? WHAT THE FUCK IS HE)

There’s a vault in the TARDIS and it contains Missy but we don’t know why (sometimes she knocks for the bants)

What has happened to all these companions and where are the new ones coming from?

There’s an immortal Viking girl now. Her name is Me and she’s now looking after the people the Doctor abandons

What’s With The Silence?

Why was Rory entirely unconcerned by the entire world suddenly going silent when that is Not Normal and should have been, at the very least, extremely disconcerting?

What did the Doctor do to Queen Lizzie One?

Who is Captain Jack Harkness? (Is he the one who gave the companions a warning about the lone cyberman?)

Why is Amy seeing a one-eyed woman in a vanishing window?

What’s with the Doctor’s future involving getting shot by an astronaut?

Is Amy pregnant and why is it inconclusive?

Who is Sarah-Jane Smith?

How is the Doctor Bill’s teacher and why/where does he have an office?

What is going on with the Cyber War and the Cyberium???

What happened with the Other Cyber War?

What happened with the Third War that deleted the void?

Why does Rose seem particularly important?

What’s with the Weeping Angel statues, and why can’t you blink at them?

What order do these Doctors go in? (Eccleston, Tennant, uncertain, Smith, Capaldi, Whittaker)

Which companion just… forgot the Doctor, and how?

Yaz and Vinder are about to die as Mori/Mwri/Muuri

There is a Lupari shield around Earth.

What’s a Time War?

What’s the Rift?

What’s Bad Wolf?

What happened with Amy’s pregnancy?

In which war did the Doctor become a war criminal, and how?

Who is the Master?

Why has Amy forgotten Rory?

Is Rory plastic or not?

Why is the Doctor sulking on a cloud?

How exactly does the Doctor have a cloud?

What exactly happened with Strax to, uh, tame him?

Which friend killed Strax?

Which friend brought Strax back?

Where did this lesbian lizard and human couple come from?

What happened with Clara as Souffle Girl and the Daleks?

How does Clara actually join?

Why so many Claras?

Why is Missy apparently in robo-heaven?

Why is probably!Missy pushing Clara and the Doctor together?

What is Trensilor and what happened there?

Who is Handles?

The Doctor is about to be dissolved by a beautiful geode man

The universe is being crushed by the Flux

Will the Doctor open the fobwatch?

Sontarans are invading Earth again

Who is Kate?

Who is Osgood? Another name of Clara’s again?

The fuck is the deal with the Grand Serpent

Does Martha get to go to an ice cream planet with 12-fingered massage aliens?

How did the Doctor forget Clara?

Who is Bill’s puddle girlfriend Heather?

How did Nardole die?

When does Bill get Cyberman-ed and die?

When does the Doctor shrink and enter a Dalek called Rusty?

Whittaker is falling to her death rn

Was that ring relevant?

Does anyone know the Doctor’s name?

When did Yaz talk to Dan about fancying the Doctor?

When did Dan talk to the Doctor about fancying Yaz?

Who was the Doctor’s wife?

What’s happening with the bees?

What happened with Donna’s ex and a giant spider?

What war wiped out the Daleks, and is it one of the ones already mentioned?

What did the Doctor mean when he said “The (Daleks) always live, while I lose everything?”

If Dalek Caan is the last Dalek left why are there more now?

How did the rest of the Time Lords die?

[im-immortal]

2023 Writing Wrap-Up

I'm a little late this time around since it's already 2024, but I haven't done a writing wrap-up since 2021 and I thought it would be fun to bring back!

So this year, I was on quite a roll for the first half of the year. And then July rolled around and I started slowing down until it came to a screeching halt. Not sure what happened. Maybe it's my ADHD and constantly shifting hyper-fixations to blame. But I gradually managed to come back around just in time to post something for Christmas, which I'm still working on finishing. However, my hiatus doesn't take away the pride I still have for what I was able to write during the year. And I look forward to writing more in 2024! So here's all I managed to finish/get a good start on and post during 2023.

A Kiss For A Drink: 6,740 words; one-shot I actually started writing this back in 2020 or 2021, intended to be posted on Valentine's Day. And then I got a point where I couldn't finish it and let it sit for about 2 years. I finally came back with some inspiration and motivation and finished it just in time to post for Valentine's Day 2023! I'm really happy with how it came out. It was a fun idea that turned into a fun fic with a few laughs included, even if it is one of my least-viewed fics lol I had fun writing it too, which is all that really matters!

Lunacy Fringe: 62,690 words; 8/8 chapters To say this fic suddenly came out of nowhere would be an understatement. I literally got inspired out of the blue while listening to an episode of the Therapy Gecko podcast and the next thing I knew, I was balls deep in a psychological thriller. I actually managed to write it in just over a month or so!! Which is really incredible for me, especially considering I didn't step away from it at all or lose inspiration before it was finished. I'm really proud of how it turned out, and I haven't really told anyone, but I am working on converting it into an original story and possibly self-publishing. It could end up being my very first original novel :) the feedback I got was far more positive than I'd expected, especially considering how I portrayed Beth. I'm overall so so happy with how it turned out!!

Longer Than A Heartbeat: 157,289 words; 29/29 chapters Now this... this fic is one of my proudest pieces by far. I'll never get over how happy I am with how it turned out, and how I was actually able to finish it. For the last few years, every time I rewatched "28 Days Later," I couldn't stop thinking about how it would make such a good Bethyl fic, and how I wanted to convert it into a Bethyl fic that included Rick and Judith. I finally did it!! Technically, I wrote it in 2022, but I didn't completely finish it and post it until 2023. When I say I write for myself... this fic really proves it, because I go back and read chapters from it all the time just because it's so fun and I love how I wrote it. I was also pleasantly surprised by the reception and how people who hadn't ever watched "28 Days Later" enjoyed it! Not to mention, @boltthrutheheart made some incredible custom manips for me that I can never get over!!

hot girl summer (playing by the rules); 167k+ words, 16/30 chapters Ah yes, here she is... the companion piece to the first 3 fics of "in for a penny, in for a pound" that I've been planning/contemplating ever since I did that first fic from Beth's POV for the series. I always wanted to show Beth's POV for all the major moments in the series, and then once I got started, I figured why not go all in and just do her POV for the entirety of the series thus far? It gives a little more insight into how she's feeling, why she does the things she does and says the things she says, and we also get to see exactly what she was doing all those times that Daryl couldn't help wondering about her (because I already knew in my head, but I thought it might be fun to share with everyone else). I also thought it would make the set-up for the next fic a little better, so we could try and understand Beth's motivations better and where she's at in her head. Of course, I got pretty into it and then hit a speed bump and then suddenly, lost all ability to write. It'll come back soon, though. I can't wait to finish this fic and move on to the next in the series, and eventually conclude Beth and Daryl's tumultuous journey in this fun little AU.

Small Miracles; 39k+ words, 6/10 chapters This is the fic that finally pushed me back into being able to write. I had no plans of writing for BHF 2023, and then I suddenly had this strike of inspiration for a very weird idea and decided to go with it and try and finish it in time to post for Christmas. I did manage to finish about 1/3rd of the fic in time, but I'm still writing it and haven't lost motivation yet, so that's a good sign! It's also just really fun and kind of cathartic to do a new exploration of Beth's journey through the eyes of an older Beth who survived Grady, with that fun little supernatural twist added to it. I can't wait to finish this one, because I've had a lot of fun writing it and really look forward to seeing what people think of her entire journey and the way it will conclude.

To everyone who's read my fics, left feedback, kudos, bookmarks, or even helped me bounce ideas off and come up with plans for fics... thank you so much! I appreciate everyone in this little fandom so, so much. Y'all mean the world to me, and I am so grateful that we have this wonderful community in our own little corner of the internet. Happy New Year to you all, and I hope 2024 brings you nothing but blessings!

[eternally-smitten]

Drabblecember - Building a Snowman

pairing: Natalie x Trevor Philips

summary: In a rare moment, it has snowed in Sandy Shores and Natalie takes advantage of the freshly fallen snow

word count: 441

author's note: ...I'll be honest I sort of had no idea on what to do for this prompt so I free wrote it until it made sense LOL

“Hmm…” A low hum escaped Trevor's throat as he woke up. 

He smacked his lips together and instinctively reached for Natalie’s waist. Instead, his hand made direct contact with the sheet. He opened his eyes and looked at the empty space, confused. Usually she was still there when he was awake or vice versa so it was an odd start to his day. He sat up on his old, rickety bed and listened closely. 

She wasn't in the kitchen or the living room. He couldn't hear her. 

Trevor forced himself to get up and take a peek outside and found Natalie messing with the snow that coated the area the night before. She was rolling it into tight balls and stacking them one on top of each other. 

He opened the little window in his room to talk to her, “Hey! What the hell are you doin’?”

“Mornin’, starshine!” She waved, “What does it look like I'm doing? I'm making snowmen.”

“Why?”

“...Because it snowed?”

He rolled his eyes, “Yeah, yeah, but why are you making a bunch of tiny ones and not a biggin’ instead?”

Natalie shrugged, “There isn't enough snow for that. It never really snows here, anyway. But there's enough for a mini army. Wanna join?”

“Of fucking course I wanna join! Who do ya think I am?” Trevor yelled, hastily throwing sweat pants on. 

“Well then, get your ass out here!” She called back, “I was getting bored being all by myself!”

Trevor found some other suitable clothes scattered on the floor of his bedroom and threw them on before rushing outside to meet Natalie. 

“There you are!” She plopped a snowball in his hand, “Here’s your base.”

He held it in his bare hand and grimaced at the cold feeling on his skin, “Gee, thanks.”

“Sure,” Natalie answered sincerely. She quickly went back to work and crouched while she made a new ball. 

She was hyper focused on this meaningless task and Trevor didn’t want to interrupt that. Besides, he always liked when she was passionate about working on something so why would he want to stop that? He helped increase her army of mini snowmen until their entire yard was littered with the little guys. Once they were finished, they both stood up straight and gave each other a smirk. They were a little too proud of their work. That was until they started to melt only a few minutes after. The Sandy Shores sun was always brutal but they enjoyed its brief absence while they could. Soon, their frozen friends became muddy puddles underneath their feet. At least they had fun while it lasted.

[namisweatheria]

I can't believe someone actually wrote Sakura hate on my Nami defending post. Anyone who knows me would shriek in horror. I'm so enraged I've tried and failed to begin this post about a million times now.

While I find it a massive failure of a person's quality of intelligence and character to hate on misogynistically-written characters using the exact same language as the larger misogynistic fanbase who also hates them, despite thinking of themselves as somehow different, in general... when it comes to Haruno Sakura at this point if you're out here on the internet in 2024 saying negative things about her in random comment sections I genuinely think you're a clueless idiot and I hate your stupid guts. lol

The online mania of Sakura hatred left it's fucking mark on people who grew up as girls watching Naruto. I honestly wasn't a very online kid, so I only know about that from my friends' experiences, but how the show itself treated her left it's mark on me all on it's own. And I can see the legacy of that mania online now! Anything that so much as mentions female characters, or sexism, or annoying characters, in anime, will get mean comments about her. It's still here and it's infuriating!

Everyone should be able to separate the bigoted writing that can make a character unpleasant, and the character itself. Otherwise one just ends up contributing to the wave of hatred from bigoted fans. That always ends up hurting real people!

The widespread out-sized fervent hatred of Sakura is particularly something there is no excuse to continue to add to. At this point she represents so much more than a specific character. She symbolizes the continuation of a fucked up online culture that directs their ire at female shounen characters instead of the men who wrote them into horrible little boxes.

So, I don't even have to defend her actual character. It's not really about that. I'm going to anyways though. Because I love her to pieces and so much said about her is just slander.

Sakura fucking rules and is a compelling sympathetic character with a good arc, she was just written by a man who hates women and takes every single opportunity to put his female characters in their place. (The fucking background, kitchen, or grave.) Sometimes all three in that order!

Sakura's worst crime is being a 12 year old Girl. She's insensitive, as 12 year olds can be. She's hyper-conforming to hetero-feminine roles, as her society expects her to be, and she's over-the-top and embarrassing about it, because she's 12.

In the beginning she's often weak and scared in the background, because that's the box she was put into as The Girl. If she had gotten to have equal capability with her teammates early on then Kishimoto wouldn't have been able to focus totally on the male characters he actually cared about. To blame her for that instead of sympathizing with the angst it caused her is so heartless and backwards.

All the writing involving Sasuke fucking sucked, and Sakura's the biggest victim of that. The whole "charm" of their "romance" is that she'll stand by him and love him no matter how terribly he treats her. Does that not sound fucking familiar. It is some of the most basic misogyny there is. That is an age-old evil expectation put on countless women, not a cute story. Hating their "romance", but expressing it by blaming her for being put into that role by Kishimoto is so fucking stupid.

(Also, it's so, so, easy to interpret her hyper performative heterosexuality as closeted lesbianism. She's so unintentionally gay-coded, especially her relationship with Ino.)

It very much happens silently in the background, because I think Kishimoto will spontaneously start choking on his own blood if he tries to focus on a female character instead of his male faves for more than a single minute, but Sakura does have a good arc! Remember Inner-Sakura? She was treated as just a gag, but if you take her seriously for a second you'll realize it was actually deeply disturbing.

Sakura was repressing her anger and goofiness, because she was trying so hard to be this want-able, feminine girl. It wasn't just her unspoken thoughts, she had a whole alternate personality tucked away because of the trauma of being a girl in a sexist society.

Ino describes it here as "A whole other psyche" and is so disturbed by it she asks her, "What are you?"

The most interesting, satisfying thing about Inner-Sakura is: She goes away. She goes away after Sakura trains under a strong, successful, funny, angry, loud woman. Tsunade helps Sakura express her anger instead of repressing it, just by being near her, she shows her the kind of woman she can be. She encourages her and teaches her to be strong and shows her it's okay to be mad. Now when Sakura is angry she can yell and punch a mountain into dust about it.

It's very much in the background, but it happens. And it's everything. How could you not care about it, once you notice it? How can you not care about her?

One of the most annoying things people say about Sakura is that she became strong out of nowhere. I think those people just weren't paying fucking attention to her lol.

Not to mention, if Naruto and Sasuke can each get super-powered Sannin to train them personally, why can't Sakura? What's wrong with that? She wanted desperately to keep up with them, to be strong enough to protect them, and she knew exactly who to go to. Why wouldn't you root for her?

So what if there's nothing that makes her special, to those who only care about genetic abilities and tailed beasts. She works hard. She fights tooth and nail. There's a reason she gets along so well with Rock Lee. In Kakashi's words, "Like Naruto, Sakura possesses a heart that cannot bear to be beaten." In Sakura's:

God, just. How can you not be obsessed with her? It's not her fault the sexist mangaka couldn't let her keep developing on-screen for more than one chapter per 30 volumes without actually grappling with the fact that there's a third person in his stupid two person narrative. She's so fucking great she's crazy she's rude she's funny she's audacious she has guts!!!!!!!!!!! You absolutely cannot come into my space with a negative word on her name. Love and respect Haruno Sakura or simply die.