#and for not assuming i'm abandoning fics/projects when i take a while

[johnslittlespoon]

fic/general updates bc i've been so quiet here, feel free to mute my yapping tag if ur just here for the brainrot posts idm one bit <3

dog coded fic ch4 is like 1/3rd done but it's a heavy one so it's taking me a bit aaa bear with me

I MADE MY FIC TAG SO SEXY i added moodboards to every single one. was this entirely self indulgent and unnecessary and an act of unintentional procrastination? yes. did it bring me joy while writing angst? also yes so

i have like 50 asks waiting for me again and I'VE READ THEM ALL OKAY and i've been losing my mind over them oh my god special mention to the anon leaving brainrot for my curtbuckbucky club au... you don't understand what you've done to me. i've almost opened a new doc so many times. i have Thoughts about what you've said and i will voice them and get back to as many other asks as i can soon!! just need an evening to lock in and sit down and reply, and there are so many fun prompt reqs to write too <3

i feel so fucking bad– i have not responded to ao3 comments or comments on my fics etc here for over a month and i reread them all so often and never want to seem like idc bc i DO they mean everything to me, literally the reason i stay motivated to write 😭💗 so i need to also sit down and go thru and reply to all of them, i just get overwhelmed by the love and sit there smiling like an idiot and then i feel the imposter syndrome and tell myself i'll reply later and the cycle repeats JDSGK <3

this week's gonna be pretty busy for me so i might still be a bit quiet, but after that i'm hoping i can get back to more regular brainrot in between writing my fic >:) me treating this like a job HSDGKJ jk i have so much fun here i rly do miss yapping all day :') anyway i think that's all, been making some edits too but i keep getting sidetracked before i finish them and i rly should be focusing on yad(iym) regardless smh! justice for pining bucky fr. but yeah if i'm ever not posting as much, just assume i'm either busy irl or focussing my energy on fic writing bc i'm so serious when i say every minute that i'm not busy irl is spent on these stupid men i'm literally plagued with thoughts of them 24/7 fml

[0zzysaurus]

IF NO ONE WILL SEND YOU DAD SON ASKS I WILL!!!

I was wondering about like the junkion culture? Or I guess more the necessity? To know how to repair things from literal junk. Like they repair themselves and the items they find and even build themselves from scraps so clearly it's a skill. Is that something g1 wreck would teach his son too? Like i think repairing stuff together or just learning tactile skills like that together is always rly sweet hehe

Also does tfa wreckgar end up on earth like in the animated series? Cos if he does I'm curious as to how he got there

YAYAY

Oh G1 Wreck would absolutely train TFA Wreck in every single skill he knows, repairing, scavenging, and fighting too — I like to think that the face markings are a symbol of leadership and also combat prowess, so if he wants to pass those traits down then training from day one is a given. Or maybe not from day one. There’s gotta be a few weeks of just holding him and teaching him to walk and talk.

Everything is brand new to TFA Wreck’s processor, so he’s constantly asking questions about what they’re doing, why they’re doing it, what all the different pieces of scrap components do and where it all comes from. He ends up inheriting his dad’s encyclopaedic knowledge of the storage halls after a while, and if you ask him where you can find the LEDs or some copper wires he’ll grab your servo and run you over to exactly where it is.

I can totally imagine there being a sort of coming-of-age ritual for younger Junkions where they have to defeat their mentor in combat, so the two of them train for months and months out in the badlands, and each day TFA Wreck gets better and better at fighting, and when the day finally comes where they fight for real G1 Wreck has literally never been happier to have his limbs knocked off his body. He’s just so proud of his boy!!!

And about Earth, I had an idea for one of the fics I was mulling over where Junk gets destroyed in some huge cataclysm. G1 Wreck is off-planet on boring diplomat adventures with Rodimus, so he survives, and TFA Wreck is somehow able to escape in time via the abandoned Space Bridge (love a bit of deep Junk lore. Did you know the planet is the result of a failed space bridge waste disposal project? Well now you do ^^) and he ends up on Earth, or some other nearby planet. Both of them, of course, are assuming the other is either missing/out of reach or dead.

It wouldn’t be a Joey headcanon without some miserable shit in there. TFA Wreck does not take this displacement situation well at all and his processor just freaks out on him. The only way he can cope with the loss in the moment is to just think about the first thing his dad ever said to him — which, when repeated in the presence of the people who find him, sure does sound like an introduction of his own, doesn’t it?

In a related vein, I don’t actually know what to call TFA Wreck in this AU, because I can’t imagine G1 Wreck-Gar would just straight up give his son his own name. Or maybe he would. I guess it is a TV trope to just have the son be called ‘Junior’ or whatever lol, but G1 Wreck is a British robot in my heart and we don’t call our kids ‘Junior’ over here. Any suggestions would be welcomed ^^

[scentedpepper]

Hiiii I really liked ur recent lip fic so I had a request if it interests u :) it's probably pretty basic actually

Lip x male reader where reader is basically struggling to find a decent job because they're falling behind on bills so they become over stressed/overwork by their current shit job. This being something Lip can relate to he tries to comfort them/tries to get them to relax. (Totally not self reflecting haha 🧍🏻)

Fish.

LIP GALLAGHER X MALE READER

Summary: Lip knows when you're right and when you're wrong.

Content Warnings: None

AUTHOR NOTE(S):

Hey Anon 😼

Totally doable request

Gets a little angsty there for a sec cus I can't not put angst in my fics but yk

This has got to be the mushyest thing on my page so hopefully it's alright (^-^;

Allusiveness per usual..

The self projection is so real..

I'm glad you liked my last fic and I hope you find something that works for you soon tho!!

---------------------------------------------------

Fish.

That's the smell that immediately hits Lip upon entrance into the little studio apartment you call home.

Your cat stares at him, big eyed and blinking slowly from the peeled leather sofa with a blanket draped over it to hide the tweaks and imperfections of a Craigslist bought Lazy Boy.

If the boy was none the wiser, he'd assumed your place had been ransacked, burglarized and left with nothing but items not worth taking a second glance at. Though, it wouldn't be a half bad guess given that your front door was left open and there were clothes and trash strewn about the creaky floors, some of your furniture knocked out of place or even right on its side.

But he could hear you shuffling around the bathroom, knocking something over, the clatter of it to the floor, the less than enthusiastic curse from you and an internal groan that sounded like a hog dying as you bent down to pick it up.

–He wasn't sure how he'd heard that last one.

Intuition, perhaps.

Sheer connection, even.

But he wouldn't delve too much into that concept.

Despite the reality of its contents.

A sigh escapes him, he thinks, maybe one of these days, your recklessness will get you killed. But who is he to speak?

He locks the door from the inside before abandoning his shoes at the entryway, a task you never fail to stress upon to any guest who decides to stop in your home.

The cat is now perched comfortably on the end of your mattress, yawning and stretching as he makes sense of the newcomer in his house that just so happens to be intimately close with his owner.

Lip glances at his feet as he steps into the middle of the walkway, there's holes in his socks right where his toes protrude and they'd gone through their fair share of stitching and needless patching to keep them from slipping off his feet and turning into giant floppy gray lint brushes at his ankles.

Two people, similar living situations and yet two vastly different attitudes toward it.

He tries not to focus on that particular line of thought while he tucked his hands into his front pockets and rocked back and forth on his heels until you shut the bathroom door with a slam.

You're a sight for sore eyes, hair a disheveled mess, sunken in tired eyes, wearing nothing more than boxers, a white tee halfway up your arms when you pause abruptly at the sight of him.

"Hey. “

He finally acknowledges with a little side-smirk that immediately makes you feel a way that's contradictory to every single negative emotion running wild in your head.

You look at him quizzically, pulling your head through your shirt so you could breathe through the collar and clear away some of the exhaust building up after you tugged at your own hair like a horse suffering from some sort of brain-storm induced illness.

"Door was open. " He states the obvious, just to ease the awkward silence beginning to swallow you up.

In response, your eyebrows raise, tugging at your facial features and making your frown look even more drawn, and weary as your lips, that had seen better days, curl up in such a subtle, effortless smile that Lip fails to suppress his immediate burning response.

It's an ironic smile, but it charms your features nonetheless.

“Yeah.. I-” You clear your throat all the sudden, your sentence falling off into a mumble as you grab your hair before releasing it, only succeeding at making it less than structured. Your eyes dart around the room, suddenly aware of the chaos surrounding you. “Been busy. “

You move past him with rushed steps, partially knocking into the broom leant up against the wall, it clatters to the floor loudly behind you.

Lips eyes follow your frantic movement, tracking you as you stumble past him. The broom punctuates the silence like an exclamation point and he notices your cat jumping up out of his peripheral.

He doesn't move to pick it up. Instead, he stands there, hands still in his pockets as he watches you fumble with a stack of envelopes on the counter. He sees the tremble in your fingers despite the effort to suppress it, the tips pushing deep into the thick, yellow colored paper with bold, red text emblazoned on them.

“You know, “ Lip starts, voice low and measured, “I've got a pretty good idea about what those are. “

He steps over the broom, careful not to crowd you, the air between the two of you feeling heavy and charged.

Your shoulders tense at his words, a barely perceptible flinch. For a moment, the only sound is the soft padding of your cat's paws as he slinks away.

"Yeah?" Your voice is strained, almost challenging, but there's an underlying note of relief. Of being seen.

Lip's gaze drifts from the envelopes to the deep bags under your eyes, the knit in your brow, the stain in the creases of your face, to the worn-out shoes by the door, to the empty fridge humming in the corner. He finally settles back on you, confliction in the seas of his eyes.

“Look, “ he starts, then pauses, rubbing the back of his neck. You feel him get closer to you, his warmth invading your senses at once and you have to close your eyes at it.

He takes another step, less than half, not quite touching. An invitation, not a demand.

Your fingers trace the edge of the envelope as your mind blanks, for once. The paper's supposed to be rough, you know that, but you can hardly feel it with the way your fingers have calloused with the grime and weight of construction. You battle with your instincts, not moving an inch, freezing at his non touch touch.

“I have some extra cash from–”

“No. “

It's immediate. You don't think and your body instantly makes flee from him, the sizzling of the fake fish on the stovetop re-registering in your mind.

Lip doesn't flinch, but his eyes follow you as you retreat to the stove. The sizzling fills the silence between you, a mundane sound at odds with the emotional undercurrent.

"Okay. " He says softly, his tone careful but not placating. "No money. Got it. “

He leans against the counter, giving you space but not leaving. His presence is like a gravitational pull you're fighting against.

You focus on the fish, flipping it with more force than necessary. The spatula scrapes against the pan, a harsh sound that makes you wince.

"I don't need—" You start, then stop, unsure how to finish. Charity? Help? Him? All feel like lies on your tongue.

Lip waits, his patience a contrast to your agitation. When he speaks again, his voice is low, almost confessional.

"You know, when I was at my lowest, I couldn't stand the idea of anyone helping me either. ”

There's something so melancholy in his voice, a darkness creeping into the depths of the ocean that usually swims with his gaze that draws your attention, once again, back to him and his story.

He pushed himself off the counter, coming just a little closer to you with gentle steps like he's scared to startle you into abandoning him for a second time.

"It sucked, " he goes on, "It felt like shit, it made me feel even shittier. "

Then he's behind you and he isn't reaching for you, isn't touching you and it's even more dizzying than if he just was.

You shut the burner off and slump, feeling smaller as his breath ghosts across your skin.

The fish continues to sizzle, filling up the gaps where you don't speak, almost like it's speaking for you.

He's an inferno, a personal sun, everything burns in his orbit, you're convinced.

But you don't like the heat, the tension.

So, instead, you stand straight with a grimace as you say,

"What're you here for, Lip?" You glance at the clock on your stove. "It's nearly midnight. "

His eyes trail down your neck and he says nothing.

Everything goes quiet. So quiet, that when you tilt your head away from him, you catch the cat staring blankly at the two of you with his tongue out and drool pooling on the ground beneath it.

You press your lips together as your brows, furrowed, meet the bridge of your nose with creases and wrinkles you've picked up from excessive worrying.

"Here for a hookup?" You don't face him as you say this, instead you busy yourself with retrieving a plate but fail to find a clean enough looking one amongst the pile of dishes in your sink and settle for a coffee filter instead.

"Jesus christ, Y/N. “ He leans forward so he's sure you can hear every word he says. "Stop projecting your shit onto me. "

Ouch.

Your lips purse, pulling down to a flat, disapproving line at that.

"You're an asshole. “

You place the faux fish on the makeshift plate with a slightly shaking hand and then turn to him, looking him in the eye in distraught before you're speeding past him again, to the couch to rip the blanket you've got on there back over the chipping surface before you finally land on it, slumping into the battered cushions with a huff and a deep, tired sigh that has him blinking at you.

The cat has since vacated the premises upon the third trip you made around your apartment, choosing to go do gods knows what over sitting on his owner's lap which is even more distressing than anything Lip had seen on his way over, or once he had actually stepped inside.

For a moment he stands awkwardly in the kitchen, staring at the back of your head, unable to fathom what you must be thinking, so he ponders, maybe trying to relieve some of that pressure instead.

"Why does this—" he catches his own sentence, having almost used the words "make you", and quickly removes that option from use. "How's your stress lately?" Is the question he elects to ask instead.

"Stress doesn't bother me. "

You lie, blatantly, blatantly lying.

He clicks his tongue, finally removing himself from the stagnant stance and strolling toward you.

One foot before the other, before the other, before the next and the next and the next, finally finding himself within the circle that surrounds your worn out couch.

"Come on. " Lip grunts lowly, eyeing the coffee table you're sat before that's cluttered with junk, and half gone boxes of garbage, with rags and bottles, stray pens and hair ties.

"Lip–"

"Lemme see. " He hums at the sight of an empty plate with something half burnt and some sort of vegetable fried in butter but otherwise undistinguishable. He's pretty sure he might have to scrape it off from how long it's been sitting there, hardening.

"I didn't say you could help clean my shit. " You warn him, trying to maintain a certain sort of coldness even though there was no way of disguising the way your shoulders lessened at his voice, or the way your back pushed in further in the seat.

That's okay. He liked your stubbornness more and more with each passing minute.

You kept him on his toes.

He sighs in response, mumbling out a comment he kept to himself over your unwillingness to accept some kind of help; like you were starving– dehydrated.

He kneels slowly in front of you and reaches out his hands until your body stiffens and then wilts underneath them.

For the sake of your pride and that stubborn resistance to accept any amount of comfort, or to even bring up the fact that Lip is, in some ways, your rock.

He can do that for you, he tells himself. He likes being relied on by someone.

Someone who needs him in a way you never let anyone see because you had this notion to keep it all locked away inside of you like you could be dependable, like you were all you had.

"Listen to me. " He takes the tasteless fish away from you and for a moment you look appalled and ready to snap, but then he grabs your hands from your lap and slides his fingers along your palms and the fight is gone at that instant.

Your eyes glaze, darkening the circles underneath and he can't help but tug you away from the makeshift plate, from the furniture, the piles of stuff on the ground, the stack of boxes in the corner, the scattered clothing and the woes of your life.

Before you know it, his arms are cradling you and his warmth, his body heat, his scent, it's all encompassing.

"You don't gotta be perfect, you know?"

You grit your teeth when he says this, laying limp like a baby on your half living room, half bedroom floor with your face buried against his collar as he practically lay above you, holding you.

"Stop. " You force out, then a second time and a third before you can get anything more coherent from your lips.

He quiets you each time with another and another gut wrenching statement and soon, your intensities are practically splayed out across the stained, Dollar Tree carpet.

"It's not anything I can't handle. "

"I'm sure you can– you always find a way. " He shifts a bit, but it doesn't disrupt your hold on him. "But it's okay to need help every once and awhile. It's okay. Even to ask for it. "

"Lip, I just—”

He hears the anger in your tone, and he shushes you with a coo like noise and a slight nod of his head.

"I can't find a fucking job. " You mutter a few moments later into his shoulder, where his hands had snaked up into your hair so he could run the pads of his fingers along your scalp.

He nods, sympathetic, "You'll find something. You'll figure it out. "

"What the fuck am I doing wrong?" Your fingers raise from the carpet in silent resentment as you ask this, reaching up to claw at the thin, coarse fabric adorning his chest.

"Nothing. Absolutely nothing. You're fucking great. The problem isn't you. Okay?"

"Sure, " You sigh, gripping onto his shoulders tighter, pulling his torso closer to you. "You say that because you think you'll hurt my feelings if you say anything else. "

"That's not true. " Lip snickers, sliding the hand back from where he was gently squeezing the back of your neck to play around with your hair instead. "If I was, we wouldn't be talking right now. You know?“

"Right. " You sniffle, a bit of a laugh bubbling up within the depths of your chest. "Because your heart belongs to anyone other than yourself? Doubt it. "

And the snark causes a giggle to erupt into the quiet of your little studio apartment.

You can smell him. His smell is like his scent mixed with coffee and sugar– for those Mondays when you want a treat, but are too lazy to walk the three blocks to the bakery for anything different than a cup of joe.

"Wow. " He snorts in return, resting his forehead against the top of your head where your nose met the tuffs of his curly, messy looking hair. "You're lucky I like you. "

"Uh huh. " A strained chuckle pushes past your lips, eyes sliding shut as your hands find his hips.

The sound of your heart beating in your ear is all you can hear as his fingers clasp around the sides of your face.

Everything is calming, cathartic. His demeanor is like honey; it runs down your bones, seeping into your open wounds and they begin to grow a bit plumper under the heat.

"Sometimes I just—" you pause, the feeling of his thumbs stroking back and forth across your jawline is too distracting for you to pay attention to the fact that you're trying to get your point across, "feel like there's something bad coming? Something coming for me, you know?"

"Yeah, " he blinks, hands gliding from your cheeks to the underside of your ears. "I know what you mean. "

His hands flatten, then run down until they find the collar of your shirt and a part of you relaxes as his fingertips stroke the outer lining of the stretched fabric.

"I get the same feeling too. " He adds, voice, so wonderfully low, rumbling from deep within his chest. "All the time. " He sighs quietly, rocking a bit.

"I'm gonna help you. " His eyes are dilated, even against the muted white ceiling light that hung above the two of you. You don't think twice to notice. “Get something going. Something solid. “

"Lip. " You choke a bit on the inside as he says this, turning your head to the right.

"I know you don't need it, but I want to. "

Against your better judgment, you take a dive and glance him right in his eyes and he doesn't falter.

It surprises you, then it doesn't.

A short sharp intake, air filling your lungs and Lip smiles. Just a sliver of skin at the edges of his lips. You take note of his change of expression immediately.

"When was the last time you had something actually good to eat?”

You narrow your gaze at him, ready to throw back an answer at his statement when he silences you by raising his hand up, index finger flying to shush you as he points at something past the two of you.

When you turn to look, you see your cat lapping his sandpaper tongue on your fish, seemingly enjoying it more than you had been.

"Been awhile for him too, apparently. "

You groan quietly, leaning back into him where the sound of his beating heart feels like music from some unknown realm your tired mind couldn't hope to understand.

"C'mon, " Lip nudges you gently.

"I'll get you something to eat. “

[biblicallyinaccuratespoons]

a fellow sickfic enthusiast 🥺❤️ if you're still taking your au requests, literally any character pushing themselves too hard and fainting into someone's arms. I'm such a sucker for the trope I'll never get over it

oooh!!! yes great idea!!

i loved writing this, yes, i struggled, but i did have fun! if you have an AO3 account: this is the link to it!! if you can, drop by and read it on AO3!! if not, here's the fic below!!

Requests are still open! if you have an idea, drop it by me!

Red was at his happiest when he got to help people. And now, with Vio under the weather, he was needed. Red’s momma hen instincts had kicked into full drive, he had been like a whirlwind helping Vio recover.

That was why Red wasn’t sick.

Tw for: fainting, general sickness, and minor injuries. A little less than 2000 words.

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

When the Caring need Caring.

--- --- ---

There was nothing more to it. Vio had gotten himself sick. Staying up day and night falling down rabbit hole after rabbit hole trying to find a way to get Shadow back to terra firma safe and sound had made him susceptible to the common stomach flu. The colours had resigned themselves to helping Vio back to health.

Red was at his happiest when he got to help people. And now, with Vio under the weather, he was needed. Red’s momma hen instincts had kicked into full drive, he had been like a whirlwind helping Vio recover.

That was why Red wasn’t sick.

Because he was needed. He needed to be helpful, not another burden to take care of- not that Vio was a burden! Red loved taking care of Vio. And he was taking care of Vio.

That was why Red wasn’t sick.

--- --- ---

It had been a few days since the worst bits of Vio’s stomach-bug had hit, he was now just in the stage of still-sick-but-not-completely-dysfunctional. Blue had gone out on a grocery run and Green was at work, so it was just Red and Vio in the house.

Red was in the kitchen preparing lunch. Well, lunch for Vio. Red wasn’t really hungry. His stomach felt funny, and he just wasn’t really hungry! He was fine, just not hungry. That was why he didn’t feel like eating. No other reason.

Red’s stomach growled as he poured Vio’s soup into a bowl. It smelled good. Well, Red assumed it smelled good. He was sure he smelled enough soup this week to burn out his soup-smell-receptors. That was why he couldn’t smell his auntie’s special chicken soup. No other reason.

Red was shaky walking down the hall, so focused on not spilling the soup in his hands so he wouldn’t spill a drop.

You see, the bowl was just really full! The waterline was high up so it was easy to spill! Red was shaky because he was over-compensating. No other reason.

Red didn’t even bother to knock on Vio’s half-open door. He just barged right in with the soup. Happy to be able to put it down on the solid surface of Vio’s desk.

“D’you need anything else, Vio?” Red asked, taking the spoon out of his shirt pocket and setting it down beside the bowl on the desk.

“Maybe some more water? Please.” Vio asked, voice a little scratchy from being quiet for a while.

“Of course! Coming right up!” Red chirped.

Red smiled and did one last fever-check with the back of his hand to Vio’s forehead.

Huh. Vio must be feeling better. His fever was gone. He was actually a tad cold now.

“Do you want a blanket? You seem cold.” Red mentioned.

Vio raised an eyebrow. “No? I’m quite alright, thank you.”

Red shrugged and took Vio’s water glass.

Red walked out to the dining room, putting down the water glass and walking to the kitchen to grab the water pitcher from the fridge.

Red was about to pour the water when he smelt it.

The smell of the abandoned leftovers from several weeks ago that was now growing something hairy and sentient in the fridge.

And oh Hylia above his belly did not appreciate the stench.

Red whimpered as his stomach tossed, suddenly feeling very uncertain about how long whatever food in his belly was going to stay in his belly.

Red abandoned the hopes of refilling Vio’s water. Red took his own glass and got a sip of water, drinking the whole thing down in a few gulps trying to soothe his swirling stomach.

Red’s stomach tossed in uncomfortable cramp-ridden circles. Red could feel beads of sweat running down the back of his neck as he tossed another glass of water into the angry sea that was his swirling belly.

Red sat down on the couch, praying to Hylia for his tummy to stop swirling. He wasn’t sick. He couldn’t be sick. He had to take care of Vio. And that. Was why. He couldn’t. Be sick.

Red heard coughing from down the hall. He glanced over at the pitcher of water and the glasses on the table. Vio’s purple cup. Empty. Vio needed water. Vio needed him.

Red had to help him. Fuck this tummy-ache he definitely didn’t have. Screw whatever was making him feel like crap. No. He didn’t feel bad. He was fine.

Vio. Needed. Him.

Red pushed himself off the couch, ignoring how the room around him tilted and jumped with every step. He ignored how his belly felt like it was full of rocks. He ignored how his head pounded and his heart thudded. He ignored. Because Vio needed him. No other reason.

Red grabbed Vio’s glass, Red grabbed the water pitcher. He took a deep breath and steeled himself.

Red heard the door open and close, Blue kicking off his shoes and nudging them into the special spot for his shoes.

Red wavered, fighting back tears as part of him ached to be held.

For his too-hot forehead to be kissed. For his stomach to be soothed while he was cuddled. He wanted Blue to come in and scoop him up off his feet and tell him he’s been doing a good job and that he could relax now.

No.

Red had a Job. He was gonna bring Vio some water because Red wasn’t sick he was fine. Nothing was going wrong.

Red didn’t need Blue to come save him. Red. Was. Fine.

Red was a little lightheaded now, he needed to sit down. So he sat down.

Red took another deep breath. He lifted the water pitcher back up as he tuned out Blue’s calls for him.

Red poured the water into Vio’s glass. Totally not spilling a good amount of the pitcher all over his socks and the floor and a bit on the table.

It was fine, the kitchen floor is tile. It will dry.

Red set the pitcher down again, took the cup in his hand, stood up, and started for Vio’s room.

That’s when Red realized he should have paid attention to the room spinning and his body feeling too hot and his stomach feeling bad.

“Red? Are you okay?” Blue called. He put his bag down on the kitchen table as Red swayed.

Red’s whole world tipped as the blood rushed from his head. Red realized his legs weren’t going to catch him. He went down.

Red heard the waterfall of expletives from Blue as the world blacked out, an extra “shit” as the sounds of smashed glass echoed and the thump of strong arms just narrowly grabbing him around the waist before he hit the floor.

---

Red woke up in Blue’s arms. His tummy swirling and head aching and dizzy and sick.

“Dear Hylia, Red. A bit dramatic, aren’t we?” Vio chuckled before breaking out into another fit of coughing.

Red groaned, snuggling into Blue’s chest.

“Can you hand me another band-aid and try not to cough on it?” Blue hissed, and that was when Red looked down. Red felt his heart uptick, because all he could see was his namesake.

Red.

He whimpered as he flexed his fingers, movement constricted by bandages that covered the wounds gotten from dropping Vio’s glass. Or, more specifically, when it cracked when it hit the leg of the table on his way down.

Red hiccuped out a sob as he felt the rest of the pain that his foggy state of unconsciousness had been withholding from him.

“Welcome back to the land of the awake, how are you feeling?” Vio asked, voice scratchy, sleepy-looking, and worried.

Red whined, “I don’ feel good!” he cried, letting the built-up tears drip from his eyes.

Blue chuckled, “Yeah no shit, Sherlock,” he sighed and ran his hand through Red’s sweaty bangs. “You’ll be okay though, me and Vio gotcha.”

Red glanced up at the tired form of Vio and immediately started crying harder. This was wrong. He was being annoying. He was being unhelpful. He was being a burden.

“Woah! What’s going on?” Blue exclaimed, a little panicked.

Red whimpered, gasping for little breaths where he could answer.

“But! But- but! I’m supposed to be helpin’ Vio!” He cried.

Vio smiled, pulling one of the many clean tissues stashed on his person and dabbing at Red’s tear tracks.

“I’m not dying anymore. I’m fine.” Vio insisted.

“Yeah, Vio’s in ‘the clean-out stage’. He’s fine now, just gross.” Blue mentioned, immediately getting elbowed by Vio.

Red’s stomach made a gross noise and he whined, hands grasping his tummy tightly.

Blue’s expression softened. “We don’t need to take care of him anymore, let us take care of you.” Blue said, patting Red’s growling stomach.

Red whimpered as he reached out his very band-aid-ed hand and put it over top of Blue’s hand. They both smiled, and Vio gave him a pat on the head.

“Now, when was the last time you ate?” Blue asked, already fulfilling one of Red’s desires of snuggles and Blue’s hand gently soothing his stomachache.

Red groaned. “A while,” he said, “I don’t feel too good...” he added with a whimper.

“I know how you feel but you have to eat something.” Vio instructed.

Blue smiled. “How about you snuggle with sniffly-mc-sneezes and I’ll make you some soup, okay?”

Red nodded and he was shifted over to Vio’s lap.

Blue got up, washed his hands and got started on the soup.

Red looked up at the tired expression on Vio’s face. Red’s eyes got teary again as he remembered the accident with the water glass.

“I'm sorry I broke your cup, I’ll clean it up.” Red insisted. Vio shook his head.

“I already cleaned it up.” Vio told him, “and it’s alright, I know you didn’t mean it. You passed out near a table and not on the carpet, it was inevitable.”

“But your cup-” Red protested. That Was Vio’s Cup. His special cup. And Red had broke it.

Vio just shook his head, dabbing at Red’s tears again.

“I'm sorry I infected you with my illness.” Vio said, taking the tear tissue and wiping at some of the sweat off Red’s forehead.

Red sniffled. “‘S okay.” He stretched out on the couch, relishing in the crackles of his spine, “it was inevitable. An’ I like being snuggled.”

Vio smiled.

“Let's get you some medicine and some soup and get you into some pyjamas.” Vio said, ruffling his cousin’s hair.

After a brief moment of changing, getting his temperature taken, and getting some fever medicine, Red was settled on the couch, Luca about to play on the TV, snuggled into the side of Blue’s chest, a hot bowl of his auntie’s special chicken soup on a pillow on his lap.

Red settled into Blue’s chest, relishing in the kiss to the crown of his head, enjoying the loving hand settled on his still-upset stomach. He nearly shed more tears at the gentle praise that he got from eating some soup even with his aforementioned upset-stomach.

Red allowed himself to be comforted, he allowed himself to try not to worry when Vio coughed.

That was why Red was allowed to be sick. Because Vio was okay.

No other reason. 

[distort-opia]

Do you have any Joker recovery fic recs or any that explore his past?

Hey! Fics that focus on Joker's past are not very frequent, but I do have a couple of recs that I hold close to my heart:

+ if you can find me, i'm here by princegrantaire (Jack/Jeannie, rated T, one-shot, 3k words)

Summary: The very first time Jack’s on stage, front and centre, lit up by so many lights, he doesn’t say a single word. (A look at Jack Napier's sad little life right before ACE Chemicals intervenes.)

+ Again by Ruin (Lurkylurk) (Batjokes, rated T, one-shot, 1.5k words)

Summary: In his dreams that man keeps falling—and he keeps on failing. It has to be this way.

+ Courting Darkness by GrowingAHead (shelleyk0503) (Batjokes, two-parter, rated E, 13.2k words)

Summary: Set in the New 52 verse, “Zero Year: Secret City” (Issues #21-24). *Contains spoilers for that arc. As well as "Bright New Yesterday" (Issue #0) story in the book “The Graveyard Shift”. Before the Bat, before the fall into A.C.E chemical vat. Bruce tries to infiltrate the Red Hood Gang again undercover. He doesn’t realize that Red Hood One has a different kind of trap set for him. (… And Crane’s prototype fear gas ‘may’ had an effect slightly akin to that of an aphrodisiac in certain doses.)

These explore Joker before the fall into the acid, either in relation to Bruce or outside of it. The last one is basically Bruce and Red Hood One from Zero Year, not truly about exploring Joker's past, but it's got some great characterization and smut.

As to fics focusing on rehabilitation... I haven't read a lot, to be honest, since they aren't really my preference. There's Half Way Across by Dracze, the iconic and quintessential Batjokes rehabilitation fic, and I assume you probably already read it. Outside of that, I can point you towards two fics, although they don't much focus on Joker's past:

+ Atrophy by TimmyJayBird (Batjokes, multi-chapter, rated E, 68.6k words)

Summary: Bruce Wayne is out of options- leaving the Joker in Arkham simply ensures that the man will escape, and hit his city harder with each new visit. Out of desperation, he does the only thing he can think of- chooses to face the clown not as Batman, but simply Bruce, in an attempt to rehabilitate him into society. But the project turns even more dangerous when Bruce finds his obsession with the clown transcends his role as Batman- and when the clown returns the interest.

+ Don’t Mind if I Fall (Head Over Feet) by arrowinthesky (restfulsky5) (Batjokes, WIP, rated M, 25.7k words)

Summary: In the aftermath of great hurt, Bruce takes in a rehabilitated Joker, now known as Jack Napier, expecting the unwarranted generosity to distract him. Heal his own wounds. Ease his guilt. And it does. He just never figured on falling in love, too.

I guess my own fic, Falls the Shadow, is also exactly meant to be... Joker getting better through confronting his own past, but fair warning that it's a WIP and that it's been a while since the last update. It's not abandoned and I'm working on it! It's just that I can't promise anything as of yet, with the way my brain is being.

Anyway! Anyone who has recommendations that fit this description is also more than welcome to add to this post, and if you read these fics-- hope you enjoy, Anon. Don't forget to leave the authors some love <3

[wolfsbane-if]

Discussing some Thoughts regarding Wolfsbane and the future of the game below

So, as many of you know, Chapter Four's reception was somewhat mixed.

While no one is wrong for having a negative reaction to the chapter and sharing their feedback regarding it, it was also very much not an enjoyable experience for me and not one I care to repeat going forward. I write for fun, and fielding the update's reception was anything but: it made engaging with my own work afterwards very difficult, and there were many times where I wondered if I had messed up, if I wasn't cut out to write a more serious story and if I should abandon the project altogether. I'd only ever intended to write and share the prologue initially anyway, so it was already a far greater accomplishment than I'd ever anticipated I would achieve.

But I still love this story, and I don't think I want to abandon it. I do think I need to change how I do things to make the experience more manageable for myself, though. For a while I brainstormed a few different options, and ultimately settled on this: I think it would be best to no longer update Wolfsbane on a chapter-by-chapter basis. While the fact that the ending of Chapter Four left a lot up in the air was probably exciting for some, I also think that sense of displacement and not knowing what to expect prompted others to assume the worst and react in unfavourable ways.

I'd like for my work to speak for itself, and so I think I would benefit from sharing my writing publicly when it's at points where there are fewer loose ends to address. While there will definitely still be people who simply don't like the direction the writing takes - and that's totally fine - I hope that having some closure at the end of a given update will help to mitigate some of the potential stress that comes from reading an unfinished story and being left hanging, especially after more dramatic events. I don't know for sure that it will help anything, but I figure it's worth a shot.

With all that being said, don't expect the next update anytime soon. Between working on other projects and not really wanting to look at Wolfsbane for the last little while, it's seen very little progress, and I don't know when the next public update will be in a shareable state with this new policy in place. Thank you all very much for understanding.

-

Additionally, there's the matter of Garamond and romance in the game. I'm still getting messages complaining about the situation and, honestly, I'm just so exhausted and worn down by the whole topic at this point. I like romance in IFs a lot, but from day one I've kind of gotten this impression that it's the only thing a lot of people care about, or that a relationship without romance is viewed as lesser or not worth someone's time. One of the first asks I received was wondering "who are the romance options", rather than if there were any, and I've gotten several more like it since. That romance is treated as a given in the larger IF community - and often the focus, from what I've seen, even in non-romance games - saddens and frustrates me, as I believe there's so much value to be had in strong friendships that's often overlooked by adult-oriented media.

I've said from the start that romance isn't the focus of Wolfsbane, that I cherish the found family the characters have formed and want to highlight that before anything else, and at this point I feel that including what aspects of romance I have within Wolfsbane may have been to its detriment. Perhaps it's my fault for communicating it poorly, but to say from the start that romance isn't the focus and to receive a vast number of messages asking about it anyway has always felt... disheartening.

I do still believe that exploring the various kinds of love that people can experience - and the complications that arise from two individuals having very different desires/expectations in a relationship - can be very interesting and worth writing about in interactive fiction. It's a very real, very human experience, and was something I was eager to juxtapose against the idea of "monsters". But I also feel the need to reevaluate whether or not it ultimately has a place in this story, if its inclusion detracts from the overall message, or if I should change how it's approached.

These thoughts are very much incomplete and I don't know yet what, if anything, I'll alter or remove regarding romance in Wolfsbane, or how the trajectory of the story going forward might change. For now, just ignore what I said about a childhood friends Garamond having had feelings for the MC growing up; I don't know if it's an element worth keeping.

-

And I think that's everything; thank you to everyone who took the time to read this and to those of you who continue to enjoy my writing <3

[black-klok-youth-pastor]

[OC Profile] Cordelia Lillian Offdensen

Because I am now contractually obligated to infodump about her now. Some parts might have been influenced by other fan fics ,but I either have permission and/or at least gave them enough of my own twist that I'm copying other people's homework too much Spoiler warning for all of Metalolcaypse so far (this is all pre-movie so if my predictions are wrong, oh well). Also content warnings for: pregnancy-related death, child neglect, sexual harassment, alcoholism, and parental death, as well as bits of canon typical dark humor.

Born May 13th, 1945

Died October 3rd, 1993 (...probably, I'll explain in a bit)

Voice Claim: Rachel Bloom/Laraine Newman (if we have to follow the pattern of the other Dethklok moms)

Face Claim: This lady from Writersklok

Personality: A well-intended and kind, but very troubled woman that has trouble being taken seriously despite being rather intelligent and ambitious leading her to unhealthy coping mechanisms such as drinking and casual sex.

Character Inspirations: Cutie Cutie Cupcake (BoJack Horseman), Meredith Quill (Guardians of the Galaxy), Paula Small (Home Movies), Paula Proctor (Crazy Ex-Girlfriend), Misato Katsuragi (Evangelion), Annie Hughes (The Iron Giant), Peggy Olson (Mad Men), Halley (The Florida Project), Mina Harker (Bram Stroker's Dracula)

Music Tastes: The Amazelingtons, Blue Oyster Cult, Jimi Hendrix, Janis Joplin, Electric Light Orchestra, Led Zeppelin, The Beatles, Elton John, Nina Simone, Fleetwood Mac

Bonus playlist

Backstory

She was Salacia’s consort in a past life, unfortunately, she was slain in a siege alongside their unborn child. He tried to resurrect her using a certain kind of purple magic...it did not end well. Cordelia would sometimes have past life nightmares about this with zero context as to what was happening.

She and Salacia met by chance in 1965, back then being a mere law school student; while Salacia was happy to see his beloved wife again...this time he had more ulterior motives convinced that it was part of the Prophecy (if still having to create the Sal persona for obvious reasons). Which he was right, but for the wrong reasons since Charles was an accidental pregnancy so she had to drop out of school and the two had to elope. Her parents were pissed of course and they did not see Cordelia or Charles until he abandoned the family some five or six years later.

Even though Salacia can technically be in two places at once it's pretty taxing (as well as worries that his other self was starting to develop a personality and will of his own) and eventually just to started to realize the more practical problems of his facade such as...oh yeah and his presence having bits of the plague that cause sickness if not death in some people to the point where people assumed for years that Charles was chronically ill. He might've been an asshole for abandoning them, but financially supported them in secret and had them under surveillance by marking them as "people of interest". Although even if he didn't have high hope for him, he had quite a few other children on standby.

Mysterious checks from the government she didn't question aside it was a bit difficult being a single mother in the 1970s albeit was able to get work as a paralegal at the slightly dubious Ensiferum & Associates. So because of this, she was pretty much what you think of when "Gen X mom" comes to mind, with Charles being very much a latchkey kid who more or less raised himself at points. Not for lack of trying since she was capable of being a very loving mother, but was severely overworked and self-medicated with alcohol to cope with the stress of working as an unmarried woman during Mad Men times and general untreated mental health issues. In fact, it was to the point where Charles feeling the need to take care of other people's needs above his own partially explains why he's slightly messed up as an adult. And yet she's among one of the more competent employees at the firm when sober (gee why does that sound familiar?).

Was generally supportive of Charles's goals, but was terrified of him abandoning her much like his father so she definitely didn't take Charles heading off to boarding school well (although she at least had the decency to not say it out loud) and was enough of a mess to require intervention so she at least mellowed out in her final years before peacefully passing in 1993, her lifespan cut tragically short due to a combination of the Salacia plague still affecting her body years later and alcohol abuse.

...which is the version I usually go with in my fics, but personally, I think it's funnier and opens more story potential if she survives to the series' present day, but is just locked out of the loop of the whole "son being the manager of the world's largest band/economic force and later a cult leader" thing. Like I'd probably figured she get along with most of the Dethklok moms (except for maybe Molly but even then because the latter is a massive hypocrite), and Dethklok for themselves for that matter, especially Toki, which Charles would be a bit conflicted about the latter even if she is trying to make up for her previous faults as a mother. I guess for now it's sort of diverging paths, but at least until the movie comes out "dead mom" is the main timeline for my fics.

Overall Charles has a...complicated view of his mother, on one hand, her neglectful parenting did cause a fair amount of emotional scarring that hasn't healed even decades later and severely affected his interpersonal relationships even as an adult, but on the other hand, was at least aware of her struggles with the benefit of hindsight and wouldn't be half the man he was today without her influence.

[beck-a-leck]

I'm gonna vent about fic comment etiquette for a hot minute beneath the cut and I'll probably delete this later after I've slept on it but...

I thought I would take my fics off of Registered Users Only lockdown, after being on it for several months. Not gonna lie I missed my guest readers and commenters.

But literally less than 2 hours after I did that I got this comment from a repeat guest commenter who has pretty much exclusively only asked the same thing when they comment

I'm legally allowed to commit murder now, right?

Like. For the last 3+ years this person has been reading my fics almost all of their comments are like this.

I'll post a brand new chapter and they'll comment 30 seconds later, "update when?"

Like. 😤

I get being excited over a fic. I get eagerly waiting for the next chapter. I even get the impatience that can come when a fic hasn't been updated in over a year.

I am very flattered to know that people feel that way about my stories.

But, mother fucker, I have been working on other things. If you just took 30 seconds to look at the rest of my profile, you would see that I have been writing other stories. I've been thinking about other fandoms. I've been juggling a dozen different projects at any one time. And I just want to shake them and shout "You'll get it when you get it! Stop asking!"

Like. I'm pretty sure this person commented a few months ago under a different name trying to semi-guilt trip me into continuing the story, which is not and never has been abandoned, and all they ever do it trigger the contrarian little gremlin in my brain that immediately says "well, now it's gonna take even longer. Nyeh!"

I just... idk. Part of me doesn't want to assume they're intentionally being rude. But also.

There are ways to comment on a fic you enjoy and would like to see more of, even if it's been on hiatus for a while without just demanding an update. They've MADE comments in the past that have been enthused and not demanding. But recently they've just gotten rude about it, treating me like I'm a vending machine and if they drop a comment (and comment) they'll get the content they want churned out to them in 2-3 business days.

I mean. Jfc saying "Please and Thank You" can go a really long way when you're asking people for things.

Like...

I just wonder if readers like that don't realize that every frustration they feel about an unfinished story, the writer feels tenfold along with a dozen other complicated feelings about it.

I certainly didn't expect that fic to still be in progress 3 years later. I thought it would be done in 6-8 months. But I can't control my damn muses and sometimes the inspiration just goes away for a very long time, and as the writer it's infuriating and guilt-inducing to see that Last Updated date getting farther and farther away.

But as the writer who is also doing all of this for free and for fun, I want to keep writing the stories that are currently fun for me, which means enjoying when different fandoms and new story ideas come and grab me by the hand and drag me off on new adventures.

I should just ignore the comment. Or at the very least wait until I'm less annoyed about it so I can respond civilly. But right now I'm just lying in bed, considering taking away guest reader privileges again. Just because I'm feeling petty.

[fountainpenguin]

While I'm sad you're not going to continue 28 Cities, could you answer some questions about it for closure sake?

DID RHYME GET AWAY FROM ZEPHYR?????? Because you kinda left off with them being set up to work at a hotel thanks to Rhyme's grand parents. Part of me is wondering that the reason why Rhyme and Reason moved through so many cities is because Zephyr is chasing them… I assume this might end with Rhyme fighting him in a climactic battle or something.

What made them want to become villains? You kinda set it up in earlier chapters with Reason pickpocketing the rude lady on the train and…. Rhyme's entire childhood of being raised by a supervillain and forced to train. What was the thing that made them become villains?

I believe you mentioned a misadventure with stealing a blimp. Do you mind elaborating on that?

What made them choose the names Rhyme and Reason instead of Super Strong Woman With Freeze Breath and Normal Guy?

Hi, thanks for the interest in my story! Although I'm not writing "28 Cities" at this time, I haven't truly abandoned it.

In truth, I went into that story without a plan because "28 Cities" was a "drabble a day" project I was trying to do, posting one chapter per day. I burned out pretty quickly because I genuinely struggle to write short things and I always wanted the one-shots to be longer, and I was getting overwhelmed and disappointed with it. I don't consider that story a great reflection of my writing abilities. I decided to put it on hold until I was ready to look at it again.

I do like the WordGirl universe and I explored it more in my one-shot "AlgoRhythm," but part of the problem was that the strict schedule I was holding myself to with "28 Cities" didn't give me enough space to worldbuild the way I wanted to. I have a lot of ideas about the world, like charm schools and genetics, and I wanted to write a bigger 'fic to explore those ideas instead.

I'm working towards that goal now with my multi-chapter Kid Math 'fic "Factor It In," which I started back in 2018. I made good progress with it back then and even drew a cute cover image I still love, but I never posted it because it felt choppy and inauthentic to my style, and I hated that.

Earlier this year, I did tidy the first few chapters of it and they're officially part of my weekly 2023 'fic schedule now ("Factor It In" Chap 1 goes up on FFN/AO3 on June 16th!) so that makes me happy :) I've got two chapters fully written (but at the end of Chapter 1 I have a note asking readers for advice on chapter length so it might end up being three chapters already done). Hopefully people enjoy that, I'm glad I had the chance to revisit it.

In short, "28 Cities" is not a dead project in my mind. It's just not part of my plans this year because it would take a ton of mental effort to plan and write for, and it won't fit in my 2023 plans.

I didn't really plan anything for "28 Cities" so you're probably not going to like my answers, but hopefully they provide some closure anyway.

---

In response to your questions:

Did Rhyme get away from Zephyr? - Probably, but I never planned it one way or another. Rhyme and Reason ran off a week or two before graduation and I doubt he's still chasing them when they're in their... 30s? He'd be in his 60s.

/It's been a long time since I saw the episode so forgive me if they had a canon age that I forgot. I'm not sure what I headcanon Rhyme and Reason as, but maybe 30s since they've lived in 28 places and it cracks me up to imagine world-weary Reason painstakingly decorating every single apartment until Rhyme blows it for them.

I don't want to commit to that for sure, though my heart will always belong to "Rhyme and Reason are legitimately adults who are platonic best friends and no one even bothers telling them they're "too young and will change their minds about being platonic when they're older" because yes they really are adults and they're happy." As far as I'm concerned, they're zucchinis and I love that for them <3 Gosh I wish that were me.

To me, Rhyme and Reason were always bouncing around because Reason wanted to put down roots and Rhyme didn't, but I never thought about her dad pursuing them. Zephyr's kind of a bitter and broken man who already lost his wife and is on awful terms with his in-laws after taking the villain route. He probably WOULD want to attack Reason for "stealing his daughter" and I can imagine Reason getting beaten up badly while Rhyme stands in shock, but I'm not sure how I'd actually play it if I went that route.

To me, Zephyr was more of the inciting incident that pushed Amy and Tyler out of their hometown, but I didn't really intend for him to be the climax. Since it was a one-shot series I didn't really see a need for a climax, but if I were to revisit it years later, I might try building towards one. Who knows.

What made them become villains? - I didn't plan that either. It's already established in WordGirl canon that "superheroes usually work for free." I built this into the backstory of Rhyme's dad (i.e. a hero who became a villain to feed his daughter after the death of his wife). In addition to Reason pickpocketing that lady who was rude to Rhyme, like you mentioned, I already painted Rhyme with a violent nature (i.e. destroying prom after her dad banned her from going) so they were probably just struggling to survive. I'm not really sure yet.

Rhyme dealt with a lot of turmoil growing up, being born to a superhero who turned to a life of crime, and she looked down on villainy for a long time. In "28 Cities," I wrote about how she ran from home and hid at her grandparents' place, and they helped her and Reason get that hotel job. I like to think these early years were focused on her and Reason building their friendship, but the crime didn't come until later. I'm not sure what sparked it, but it was absolutely after they were already "ride or die" for life.

My guess is they were probably hungry and couldn't pay rent and probably had medical bills or something [i.e. Reason getting beaten up by Zephyr so Rhyme swallows her pride and does everything she can for him even though she hates it at first] and Rhyme's grandparents were already out of their lives for a long time, so things just got tough.

Don't take this as my official canon because I still want the option to change it later if I want to, but that's a possibility for your question.

Stealing a blimp - I'm sorry, I'm not sure what you're referring to. I did a CTRL-F in the full version of the story and I didn't see anything about a blimp. I checked my OG doc and my blog, but didn't see anything in either of those places. It doesn't sound familiar.

What made them choose the names Rhyme and Reason? - I never decided, though I do headcanon that Rhyme was rhyming even when she was young, so her name was inspired by that. The phrase "rhyme and reason" is pretty common, so once Rhyme got her name, Tyler was probably like "Yeah, Reason suits me." He's the kind who couldn't care less at first, but ends up proud of his name. I'm sure he's the one who designed their logo, too.

Thank you for reaching out, and I'm sorry if this reply is less than satisfactory. "Rhyme and Reason" is my favorite episode and I love them dearly, and I'd rather focus on other projects that are more important to me right now, and maybe do "28 Cities" justice at a later time, and not butcher it in a rush <3 It's not dead to me, it just won't fit into my plans for 2023.

[pebblysand]

2 and 30, please & thank you! 🤸🏼

aw, thank you!

2. Anything that you'd like to write but feel like you're unable to?

it's funny, i was kind of hoping someone would ask me this question cause like, yes, of course, there's so many. i think, at this stage in my life, time is probably my main blocker - more than willingness or ability. time is unfortunately a finite resource and as i've said about a month ago, i've decided to sort of put all non-castles projects on hold this year, which means that there are a lot of fics i wish i could write, but can't at the moment.

i think most of them are ROAR projects: hermione (HP), the black sisters (HP), ada (PB), may (PB), will (TGW), maybe draco for HP as well. i would also still love to write the aoife post-TFIFM story that is in my head and Never Going Away. but yeah, most of these have been de-prioritised because i've been working on castles for there years now and like it's time to fucking finish it. i also think i will probably move on to original writing after castles is out and so keeping these fandom one-shots to write will be a good escape, by then, do dip back in whenever i want to.

30. Describe a fic that almost happened, but then it didn't.

as i've said before, i don't think projects for me ever get truly abandoned, they get parked to the side until such time i can give them the attention they deserve. i mean, castles itself was the fic that almost happened but didn't for over a decade, until it finally did happen so, you never know.

i do think one thing that will cause me to abandon an idea is often the realisation that i have nothing to bring to it, or nothing new to truly say about it. so, like, one that is a little bit in a limbo at the moment is the ROAR hermione fic because i'm starting to realise that a lot of the post-war plot elements that i had in mind for it can already slot into castles, and i'm not quite sure what will be left. her childhood? possibly, but is that groundbreaking? her thoughts? there's a couple of elements and takes that would be new, but i'm not sure they would truly warrant a fic of their own. so, as much as i like the idea of the hermione fic, it might not happen.

and, don't get me wrong, i know some people out there will read this and be like: but we don't care if it's not brand new, we just want more content from you. like: doesn't matter if we read 50 iterations of the same thing, we love it. but, let me object to that: you think you do. when, the fact of the matter is: my fics are the way they are (and you like them the way they are - some people don't, of course, and that's okay, but assuming that if you're reading this, you do) because i'm very careful about choosing the topics i want to talk about, and because i know when to drop an idea when it's repetitive of previous work. it's like: do i have headcanons about bill and fleur after ce ne sont que des cailloux that could make a nice fic if i wanted to? of course. would those headcanons be demonstrating something dramatically new that wasn't in that fic to begin with? probably not. so i choose to leave them in my head.

and, i know this because i definitely used to write everything that popped into my head. i mean, look at my fics for TGW, it's like - some of them are good ideas, and the writing is fine, but they could have been condensed into one, maybe two big ideas, instead of being published as 20 iterations of the same concept, you know? and, while i think there is absolutely nothing wrong with writing everything that pops into your head (it's definitely fantastic for practice and engagement), that's not really the way i choose to write anymore. and, i think the characteristics of my writing, and the things that make people love my content, is that i make those choices. my fics wouldn't be my fics if i wrote them differently.

but again, we shall see.

[dottore-appreciation-club]

Your post got me thinking about somewhat fluffy Dottore x reader; reader checking up on the Harbinger after he’s been noticeably absent for a few days, working in a fervor and wearing himself out. Feel free to do what you’d like, format-wise (hc/short fic/what have you)!!!

THIS, I LIKE THIS. THANK YOU <33

I ended up mixing short story and hcs in there though not sure how to feel about to end result 🏃

All in all, it's not as great as I'd hoped for a first fic, Dottore may or may not be a little ooc since it's my first time writing for him (and writing in general 💀) but I hope you liked this regardless <3

- - - - -

𝑴𝒂 𝑷𝒓𝒊𝒐𝒓𝒊𝒕é 𝑨𝒃𝒔𝒐𝒍𝒖𝒆

| fluff ☁︎ |

| no warnings, just soft times

with a very stubborn doctor |

pairing ; il dottore x gn ! reader

basically ; with his projects going

wrong and his research coming to

a standstill, dottore has resorted

to burying himself in his work,

desperate for at least a fraction of

success.

yeah no you weren't having it.

⊱─── {⋅. 💊 .⋅} ───⊰

Il Dottore is committed to his work.

Some might even go as far as to argue that he's practically married to it.

The man has no sleep schedule, especially not on days when inspiration struck hard, so it wasn't uncommon to never find the doctor anywhere else but in his personal lab (the only one he'd never dream of abandoning no matter how bored he may be), tinkering and experimenting away as mechanical whirs, ticks, and other ominous creaky noises echoed through the empty forest around it from behind the heavy metal doors. However, lately all the noises coming from there have gotten louder, more machinery seem to be operating all at once, and if someone were bold enough to step closer to the doors, they might even catch the faintest tuts of annoyance, frantic scribbling, or on rare occasions; incoherent cursing in some foreign language that definitely isn't Snezhnayan.

At first, the others and his assistants assumed it was just him having an off day, maybe something happened during one of his recent missions- but eventually, he stopped leaving the confines of his laboratory altogether. Should anyone dare to disturb him, well... They can only hope the Tsaritsa answers their prayers. Anyone but you, at least- you technically have a free pass.

And you decided you were going to use it to make sure Dottore gets the break he deserves, work be damned you have a stubborn doctor to convince.

- - - - -

You haven't really seen him in a while, the last thing he told you before heading off was something about making more progress

You weren't surprised when he didn't come back during the next day

So you decided to visit your lover, armed with nothing but packed lunch and affection, because Celestia knows this man isn't going to be doing any self-checks while he's in the state he's in

His lab is a wreck.

No seriously, papers were scattered all over the place along with spare parts and some random machinery- normally he'd be seething if he found any of his equipment on the ground

He's even worse 🗿

I'm talking unruly dishevelled hair, his usually pristine dress shirt crinkled while some of the buttons are left open, his scowl just looks more hostile, and if you squint hard enough you'll even notice the bags under his tired eyes

The moment you're in front of him, he's wrapping his arms around you and pulling you onto his lap

He doesn't care about what you're going to say, he just- he just needs to hold you for a second

Wrap an arm around him, card your other hand through his fluffy hair and he will absolutely melt

Allow him to vent for a little while and press gentle kisses against his face and he'll be a changed man (for 10 minutes)

Yes, he appreciates the face kisses even if the mask is there- you know he'll take it off around you when he's comfortable but until then, you're fine with just this

It takes some time to convince him to let you go, but he does (although with some hesitance) so he can eat the lunch you brought for him

You'd think it'll take even more time to convince him to take a break, but he folds almost immediately after you wrap your arms around him once he's finished eating

He's not proud of how quickly he's succumbing to all this but he relishes the attention

Right after it, he's going to try to jump back into work 💀

Oh, you wanted him to take a couple days off?

He brushes the suggestion off but the expectant look in his eyes tells you he just wants some sort of incentive

Just hold him again, he's too tired to save face

He ends up taking those day offs anyway 🚶

You always help him feel better, so maybe he'll find a spark of inspiration during his little break with you.

— CEO of the Dottore Appreciation Club

[bourbon-ontherocks]

20 26 39!

Ooooh these are so great, thank you!!! ❤️❤️❤️❤️

20. Post a snippet of a WIP you’re working on.

Mwahaha, I literally just posted an almost 10k words chapter and you're still hungry?? Okay, so here are the first paragraphs of this Fitzpatrick story I'm working on (it's his POV):

He's a man of rules. Always have. There's nothing more satisfying than the certitude that things will happen exactly as planned. Wake up every morning at 7:15 precisely. Always wash his hands twice. Never talk shop on an empty stomach. Little things that provide anchoring in life. That's probably what drew him to accountancy in the first place. Rigid columns of numbers, irremovable rules carved in the granite of modern treasury.

Something which may sound boring to many people. But when others see complications he sees appeal. Opportunities. He likes his world obeying a set of rules. And that's when people start deviating from these that troubles come.

Take what's happening with the Boland case for example. But -- later on that.

Because today is not about work. Today is a day off. Today, it's been exactly ten years since Mary died.

  26. Standalone or series, and why?

I feel like I already answered a similar question a few weeks ago but I'm too lazy to look for my original post right now so I'll answer again, hopefully with new elements.

I started writing with series (I assume series means long fics here? Or are we talking about AO3 series which are a collection of fics? Am I questioning this too far? Does that even answer the question?) and as much as I like having space to develop a plot, have a wider range of characters and interactions, sow hidden clues everywhere, finish every chapter with a cliffhanger, I... am getting tired of it.

I mean, I generally love it at the beginning, but then at some point, once I've finished plotting the whole thing, I guess that the idea of having to write it is just stressful more than anything? Take the chapter from It's All Coming Back To Me that I posted last night for instance. I imagined its last scene (dialogue included) mid-January (I remember it distinctly because it was during a weekend I spent in London, I was walking along the Thames when... Nevermind). Mid-January!!!!! 😱😱😱

It was five months ago, and the thing is, during those five months, my brain has discovered new fic interests so it's really hard to pull my mind back at writing this fic because it's like, "Oh come on, I've finished planning this story already!". Like, I'm super happy with the chapter I posted, and I'll never abandon an unfinished story, but I don't know, it's been months since I've known exactly what happens in this fic, and all I have to do is write it now but my brain is more excited with newer projects (also I didn't plan to finish this story widely after S3 aired, and I generally like to stick to canon, which makes this story actually obsolete? Idk). The point is, I'm not spitting on this story at all, I still love it a lot and I enjoyed writing this chapter, and I'll enjoy writing the last one. It's just getting harder to get back in the right mindset as I'm dragging it along.

So no more long series for me at the moment, I think.

On the other hand, standalone stories... I started writing some one-shots while S3 aired, as a catharsis. And I very much enjoyed it. But if you look closely, you'll notice that I got growingly incapable of not adding a second chapter to them. That's exactly what happened with Take A Dip tbh. And I think that currently, this is my jam. I love that diptych structure with a cliffhanger in the middle, I think that the duality really allows for some contrast! You can switch POV to bring a different reading on the event (Don't Steal From Me, Something You Love) shift the mood and spice things up (Moose Hunting), or bring a resolution to all the threads that were pulled in the first chapter (what will happen in Take A Dip). And obviously, this is the perfect structure for mirrors and parallels which, as you may know, I'm a slut for! 😂😂😂😂

Obviously I'm not going to write only two-chapters stories from now on. The Fitzpatrick one will probs be a long one-shot, a la Four Seasons In One Day (am I just challenging myself with citing all my fics in one ask??), while the CXG crossover, which WILL be out someday, will probably be a collection of loosely related chapters.

But that's the kind of thing I currently tend to. Although who knows, maybe six months from now I'll be all about 20-chapters monster fics haha!!

  39. Do you base your characters on real people or not? If so, tell us about one.

Mhhhh, not really, I guess? I mean I already base my characters on a TV show, so... And as for the (very few) OCs I wrote, I don't think I did either. Maybe I based them on other characters from other universes, but I'm not sure that I'd feel comfortable with basing anything I write on real people. Not yet, at least. I think that I wouldn't feel free to do whatever I want with such characters, it would be too... involving? Idk if that makes sense, though.

  Ask me writing things!!

[wittyy-name]

Agh, you probably get this a lot and I'm sorry but I noticed that the last update for The Marks We Make was in 2016 and I was wondering if you're still continuing it? (I'm so sorry for bugging you about it, asks like this probably get so annoying)

First of all, I’d like to point out that TMWM last updated on Feb. 7th, 2017. Not in 2016. 

Second of all, yes, it’s still going to be continued. It has not been abandoned and it will not be abandoned.

As I stated in the notes of the first chapter, TMWM is and was always meant to be my self-indulgent, back-burner fic. It’s the fic I write when I feel inspired for it and when I need a break from my other on-going fics (SUADWM and SOTP). The response to it has been phenomenal and mind boggling, and I’m so grateful and amazed that people love it so much. But this doesn’t meant that I’m going to change how I approach that fic. It’s not going to suddenly become my priority because it’s my most popular. I firmly believe it’s quality BECAUSE of how I approach writing it, and that will not change, no matter how much pressure I feel due to the overwhelming responses to it. TMWM is my baby, I will continue to write it how I need to in order to make it the best it can be, and I warned everyone in the first chapter that updates would be slow. That hasn’t changed. 

Updates in general for me take time. TMWM chapters average around 20k words. That’s a lot of words. Those words take a lot of time to write. Add to that the fact that I have two other on-going collab fics that I have set to a higher priority right now. Throw in the fact that I recently spent time writing a 46k word oneshot, the fact that I have a job that I have to dedicate time to, and the fact that I do have a life with interests outside of writing and things that need to be done. Given that I have three ongoing fics with long chapters for each, a job, and other projects/hobbies, I think I update pretty quickly for the circumstances. 

There is a section in my blog description on the sidebar, also visible on mobile, that says “Currently Working On”, which I will keep updated with whatever fic I’m working on updating next. Right now, it says “WORK” because I fell behind in my job due to the time I put into my oneshot, so I’m setting aside fic writing for the week to catch up on that. 

TL;DR - It’s not abandoned. Please stop assuming I’m abandoning my voltron fics just because it’s been a while. Have patience. TMWM updates slower than any of the other fics. A shorter version of this has been added to my FAQ.