#and go bury myself in some good fan fiction

[adrift-in-thyme]

They should’ve gone the anime route

[scarlettjohanssons-mistress]

idk if your requests are open or not but if they are please write something for charlize theron. there is literally no fan fictions of her and it feels weird even just saying it. can you maybe write something smutty preferably but if it makes you uncomfortable anything else is fine :)

Lazy Day

Warnings: Established relationship, implied sexual content, domestic fluff

Word count: 0.7 k

Pairing: Charlize Theron x Fem!Reader

Prompt: A lazy day with Charlize

Requests: OPEN

[Main masterlist] [Actors and actresses masterlist]

The smell of coffee snapped me out of my sleep and I opened my eyes, realizing that the other side of my bed was empty. I patted the mattress with my hand only to notice that both the sheet and the pillow were cold, so I rubbed my eyes to scare away sleep, stretched the bones of my back and arms and got out of bed.

I walked to the bathroom, washed my face and teeth, relieved myself and left the small room again.

It was a winter day, so going down to the kitchen with only panties was not the best idea, so I stuck my head in the closet trying to find a warm garment to go down, but none convinced me; until I could see the large knitted sweater of various colors lying on the floor, on the cold side of the bed.

I quickly put on the sweater and went downstairs listening to a slight humming in the kitchen.

I could make out her, now, long blonde hair, a bit disheveled, which fell like a golden waterfall down her back covered in a blue sweatshirt; her long legs covered in sweatpants that accentuated her butt phenomenally; while her feet were covered by those sports shoes that I had given her last Christmas. She was preparing some small pancakes that she garnished with fresh fruit , while she waited for the toaster and the coffee maker.

On tiptoes and in silence I approached her hugging her back and trying to bury my face in the curve of her neck.

"Good morning." Even behind her back, I could feel Charlize's smile.

"You weren't in bed when I woke up" I made a small tantrum while rubbing my face a little more on her shoulder.

"Oh" her husky voice reached my ears, like a sweet and addictive purr "did my sweet baby wake up the wrong way?" I only managed to kiss her neck while nodding "do you think a good breakfast and a good cup of freshly ground coffee will help your morning bad mood?"

I felt again, now with a greater emotion. I separated from her quickly and walked to the small dining room, and I sat waiting patiently.

Minutes later, Charlize arrived with two plates full of food, two cups of coffee, and cutlery for both of them.

"Are you wearing MY sweater?"

Her eyes flicked to my chest covered with some doubt, when, it was, extremely obvious that I was wearing her clothes.

“I repeat. You weren't in bed when I woke up."

She just laughed as she shook her head and we both started eating.

"Do you have something to do today?" I asked as I relaxed with the warmth of my cup in my hands.

“Nope. I have all day for you, pretty girl.” She took my hand and kissed the back.

"You know what it means?"

“Oh honey, I thought we already talked about this…”

"We can play Mario Kart all day!"

"Although I remember, I forbade you to play that game" she said as she collected the dirty dishes from both of them and took them to the kitchen to wash.

"But baby…"

"No buts Y/N, you and I know how competitive you are when you play Mario Kart"

Trying to convince her otherwise, I walked up to her and stood in front of her.

"Charlie, I think you're exaggerating…"

“Have you already forgotten the time you bit my arm? ”

“Okay, in my defense I will say that, you were cheating and you deserved it …”

"Y/N! I've been in pain all week!"

"Yeah, okay, sorry. It won't happen again" I hugged her while she spread kisses on the top of my head "Can we play Mario Kart? Please?"

I tried to give her my best Shrek cat eyes I could give, trying to knock down the tough side she was trying to put on.

"Agh, you know I can't say no to you when you those eyes…"

"Yeih!, I choose the pink controller and Princess Peach…" I yelled as I walked her away until I returned to our room and began to organize the Nintendo we had at home.

"I'll let you know, Y/N, if you bite me, there will be no sex for a month."

Note:

I'm sorry that it took almost 5 months to be able to place this request, and to top it off, it's so short; But, in the future I will write more

I hope you enjoy it

I appreciate the reblogs, the likes and the comments

taglist: @littlebitchsposts // @beejudarling

message me or send an ask to be added to my taglist!

[iamthecomet]

What was it like for you when you started writing ghost fics? What made you start/what type of fic did you start with?

Hope your day is well! If not, use this as a vent post. 😊

(Here’s me paying the Per tax)

hnnnggg oh GOD that picture of Per. FUCK. My day was a good one so far, no venting necessary! So, I love this question, and I have a whole ass story about it. I have a feeling I'm going to write an entire essay about this--I'm sorry in advance.

I'm throwing that part under a cut for scrolling ease.

So Flip of a Switch was the first Ghost fic I ever wrote. It's also the first smut I've ever written and let people other than my best friend read. I was struck by HORRIBLE Ghost brain rot last summer. I was going through some BULLSHIT and Ghost turned up for me in a big way. It was like they fell back into my lap when I needed them the most. And I was devouring fan fiction like crazy. And the thing about me with any fixation is that eventually--inevitably. I will need to write about it. And With Ghost I desperately didn't want to. I had convinced myself that fan fiction was a "waste of my time" because I wanted to be a "real writer"** and all that other toxic bullshit society brainwashed me into think. But I was powerless and I couldn't resist. So, I wrote that fic in the beginning of September last year and I buried it. I threw all of my effort into the novel I was trying to finish. And then into the new story idea I had (which is laughably Ghost adjacent I just needed to write about it and couldn't give myself permission). And I pretended to forget about it, and read fan fic and looked longingly at tumblr. And then, almost two months later, I gave up. I was watching this community happen from outside and I wanted in. Kinktober looked so fucking fun and I'd missed it and I just...wanted to be a part of this. And truly, whether they know it or not, @st-danger and @kroas-adtam were two of the biggest reasons why I finally just gave in and posted my fic. Theirs were the fics I went back to over and over again. And theirs were tumblrs I looked at over and over and went "I want to know these people so bad" (And now I do!! ♥♥). I wanted to talk to people about ghouls. I wanted Ghost friends. I wanted to WRITE about ghouls and scream about them with people who wanted to scream back. And it was slow at first. Some moments I wondered why I even bothered because clearly no one cared. And then I wrote more, and I persisted, and I forced myself into conversations on tumblr and uh.... Hi. here we are. I cannot put into words the parts of me this community has healed. I am a different (better, happier) person because of it. I've changed my view on what I actually want to do with my life because of it. Fuck man, I'm so happy I gave into my fixation almost a year ago and went "fuck it I'm doing it." **Fan fiction is real writing. Fic writers are real writers. I knew that all along. I just had convinced myself that because I was trying to write professionally I couldn't also write fan fic. It was a reflection on how I thought of myself--not other people who wrote fic too. Everyone who wrote fic was/is a real writer to me, but I couldn't figure out how to include myself in that.

[my-own-walker]

Someone You've Never Seen Before

A Kyle Spencer Fan Fiction

frat!kyle AU, fem!main character, sexual themes, mature language, use of drugs and alcohol, frat boy antics

14.

*TW for this chapter: Proceed with caution if SA-themes trigger you. If things don't seem right at a party, find a friend! Get out of the situation. And make sure you cover your drink!*

Like an impressionist painting, things start to make more sense the further you step away from them. The amalgamation of all those abstract blots and brush strokes is a beautiful scene. The confusion you feel up close becomes worth it when you see the payoff.

That's how life is. The further you move away from the events that happen, the more they make sense in the larger landscape of your life. 

My first day back at class after things went down with Kyle and Archie was hell. I was so nervous to go back, that I physically shook as I walked to the lecture hall. My tendency to get there early was heightened, and I arrived nearly an hour prior to the class's start time. I had to wait for the lecture that was in there before us to finish and for all of the students to file out before I could go in. I had to make sure I had the complete pick of the litter as far as seats went.

I picked a spot in the back of the room furthest from the door. Sure, I'd suffer and probably not be able to see the board, but I didn't care. A few of my classmates arrived after a while. I put up the hood of my, well, Lily's, oversized sweatshirt and buried my head in my phone. The chairs all around me filled up. I was definitely in someone's unassigned-assigned seat.

Too bad, I'm here for the rest of the semester, I thought to myself.

Professor Edwards began the lecture at the regular start time, so I found it safe to lift my head and look around a bit. I squinted over at my usual place in the room. One seat sat vacant. Some random had taken mine, and Kyle was not in his. I scanned the room for a mop of blonde hair. He was nowhere to be found.

The lecture hall's doors flew open and a visibly flustered Kyle Spencer raced inside and to his usual seat. I breathed a sigh of relief that his lateness meant he had no time to look for me.

I received a text from him that Thursday after I neglected to show up at his at 7 p.m. 

Hey. I worked on a bit of the project by myself. Let me know when you want to meet up and look it over.

I, of course, ignored it. The next Thursday, around 9 p.m., I got another message.

Hi. Have you been coming to class? I haven't seen you. Are you okay?

Then another, two minutes later.

I get that you don't want to see me right now, but I emailed you what I got done. Can you look it over, please?

I looked the Word document with out project on it over and shrugged. Looked fine. 

Looks fine.

Okay, awesome, sounds good. See you in class tomorrow?

I deleted the text chain and locked my phone. I did not, in fact, see him the next day. I did not hear from him again until the next Thursday, October 17, really late at night. About 11:56 p.m. to be exact.

Hannah, can we talk? In person? We just need to get this work for class done. We can't do that if you hate me.

I, once again, deleted the text chain and locked my phone.

Friday night rolled around in no time, and Lily finally convinced me to go to a party for the first time since Kyle humiliated me at the tri-Delta party. I felt good. For once, I felt legitimately confident about the calculus quiz I had taken earlier in the day.

"Ah!" I cried out, wincing and sticking my finger in my mouth, dropping the piece of Lily's hair that was in my hand.

"Burn yourself?" she asked smugly, looking at me in the mirror in front of us. 

"Yes, your fucking curling iron sucks," I laughed, shaking my hand a few times in the air before grabbing another strand of hair. She stifled a giggle.

"Don't make me laugh while I'm doing my eyeliner," she complained. I wrapped her blonde hair around the hot rod and held it for a moment, then released it. It fell down and bounced like the spring it had become. 

We were getting ready for another mixer between her sorority and Kappa Alpha, a lesser-known, less-douche-y frat on campus. Usually mixers have creative themes. This one's theme was "formal." Real creative, right?

I finished curling Lily's hair and unplugged the curling iron. "You look beautiful, Lil," I smiled. She  put a finishing layer of powder on her face. She wore a strapless, black satin cocktail dress. She paired it with gold eyeshadow and a pale nude lipstick.

"You don't look half-bad yourself," she replied. I stepped over to the full-length mirror in her room and examined myself. I wore a pink and brown lace babydoll dress that I found at the thrift store. I wore my hair natural and down, and paired it with winged eyeliner and brown mary-jane flats. 

I smoothed the front of my dress and sighed. "Are you ready to go?" I asked.

"Just...a bit...more hairspray," Lily muttered, waving the aerosol can around her head rapidly. "My hair doesn't hold curls for shit."

We walked to the party, as Kappa Alpha was less than a block away from us. It was crowded when we got there, but only mildly so. We spent the first hour dancing and socializing together. Lily knew this was hard for me, so she stuck by my side, which was very unlike her.

That was until I started talking to Julian. Jules, his friends called him. He was a senior in KA. He lived in the house on the ground floor.

He was tall and brooding. He had tired eyes and long hair. He wore a loose-fitting suit, his off-white dress shirt untucked from his pants. His blue and red striped tie hung loose around his neck, complete with a haphazard knot holding it in its position. His voice was low and quiet, almost as if everything he said was a secret no one else but you could know.

"Hannah, you said your name was?" he asked with a slight smile. We both leaned against the wall in the living room, which was now filling up pretty decently. It was common for mixers to get crashed, it seemed, as members from TKE, Tri-Delt, KLG, and other Greek organizations started filing in.

I held a cup with some rum and coke in it. He lazily held a beer bottle between his fingers. He had to stoop down to hear me better. Like, really stooped down. He had at least an entire foot on me. The height difference was somewhat of a turn-on for me.

"Hannah Martin," I said with a smile, right next to his ear. 

"Jules," he replied, putting out his hand for me to shake it. I blushed and took him up on the offer even the slightest touch. "Do I know you from somewhere?"

"Uh, I don't think so," I answered, shyly. "I'll admit I only barely recognize you myself, and I come to a lot of these things."

"Are you in Pi Phi?" he asked. The way he had to really lean down to talk to me made my stomach twist and my cheeks burn hot. That mixed with a bit of liquor made me feel quite funny.

"No, I'm just a friend. Designated friend," I stammered. "My friend is in Pi Phi, she drags me to these things."

"I kinda thought you didn't belong, but I didn't want to be rude," he chuckled. "I like your vibe."

I stood up straight and shifted the weight on my feet. "Hey, I was thinking the same thing about you, to be fair," I admitted. "God, it's getting loud in here."

"I'm only in this frat for the excuses to drink," he professed. He took a large swig out of his beer bottle, finished it off, and then put the empty down on one of the shelves of the bookcase next to us. Then, he placed both of his hands on my shoulders. "May I lead you to my room, Hannah Martin?" he asked with a cocked eyebrow and a smirk.

"Oh, uh, I," I stuttered. 

"To hear each other better," he assured. "I'm right in there." He pointed at a door across the room. 

"Um, sure then," I smiled, bashfully, biting my fingernail. He spun me around, then replaced his hands on my shoulders, guiding me forward as we started to his bedroom.

When we got to the door, I stopped to let him open it himself. He unlocked it with a key and grabbed me with his free hand, pulling me in. I looked around at the dimly lit room. It was small, one full-sized bed in the corner of the room, clad with red sheets. The walls were plastered with posters. A record player sat atop a small wooden bookcase packed full of vinyl. It was leagues quieter in his room. I took a large sip of my drink.

"Closed or open?" Jules asked, still stood by the door, pointing at it. His posture was entirely open and loose. I felt I could trust him, as there seemed to be no "want" in his gaze. 

"You can close it," I rasped. "It'll be quieter that way."

He crossed the room, passing me as he made his way to the record player. "Saw you looking at these," he muttered. He knelt down in front of the case. "What do you like? I'll see if I have it."

"God," I sighed, scanning the posters in his room to see what bands he may have. The Doors, The Stooges, Talking Heads, Velvet Underground. I took another sip of my drink, thinking, then landing upon a possible band. "Ooh, uh, Sonic Youth?" I looked over at him and watched a smirk creep across his face.

"Wow, okay," he breathed, thumbing through this collection. "I have....Daydream Nation....and Rather Ripped." 

"Rather Ripped, definitely. Play Incinerate," I requested. 

He pulled the record out, then shook the vinyl loose from its cover. "You're lying," he snarked. "There's no way you know these guys."

"Ah, Jules, but I do," I sighed, feigning wistfulness. I took yet another sip from my drink and watched as he loaded the record onto the player and moved the needle over to the song I asked for. He turned to face me and smiled.

"Here, uh, sit," he mumbled, gesturing toward his bed. I meandered over and flopped down lightly, letting my dress poof as I landed. He joined me, sitting only for a moment before looking at my cup. "You're running low, can I get you something?"

"Oh, my drink?" I asked, eyebrow cocked. I looked around for a place to put the cup. "You don't have to worry about it I'm fi-" 

"No," he cut me off. "What were you drinking? I'll get you more."

Surprised by his insistence, but blushing at his chivalry, I nodded. "I, uh, just get me whatever, I'm not picky." He grabbed the cup out of my hand and walked over to a mini fridge that sat in the corner of the room closest to the door.

"Would something from here work?" 

"Yeah, I don't care, I wouldn't want to venture out into the party either," I giggled, watching him open the fridge's door and look around inside. 

"Oh, Hannah, can you, uh, turn the record over?" he asked. "I wanna hear Turquoise Boy." I stood, turned my back to him, and walked over to the record player. I lifted the needle, lifted the record up, and flipped it over, scanning the label for what the track number of the song he wanted was. Then, I moved the needle over to the third song in and turned on my heel, nearly crashing into him.

Jules stood, towering over me, my cup in his hand. I looked up at him, beaming a sweet smile. "Thank you, Julian." I tasted the drink. It was fizzy and bitter. Beer. "Big beer guy, huh?"

He laughed nervously. "I wouldn't say that," he scratched the back of his head. "It's just what I had." Jules grabbed my wrist and led me back to his bed. He flopped down in a half-laying position. I sat down, just next to his hip, facing him. 

"Your room is cool," I noted, looking around. "I have a lot of posters like this."

"Ah, you do?"

"Oh tons," I chuckled. "Lot of cool bands up here, though."

He looked up as well. "I guess," he shrugged.

"No, seriously," I insisted. "Talking Heads, Buzzcocks, Radiohead, Descendents. I mean they're all amazing."

"You know Buzzcocks?" he gasped. "I've never met a girl cooler than you. How are you real?"

"Oh shut up," I giggled, pushing the center of his chest. I took another sip of my drink. 

"Do you happen to know what time it is?" Jules asked, sitting up a bit. 

I felt around for my phone in the top of my dress and rolled my eyes. "I would be able to tell you if I had my phone," I groaned. "I must have left it somewhere."

"Ah, okay," he trailed off. "Well, that's fine. I'm happy talking to you anyway. Where are you from, Hannah Martin?"

I felt a small bit of tunnel vision come on. Nothing too crazy. I chalked it up as drinking too much too fast. "Uh, 'm from Massachusetts, near Salem," I answered.

"Oh, so you're a witch?" he snarked. I laughed a little too hard at the comment, resting my head on his shoulder.

Damn, Hannah, get it together. You're throwing yourself all over him. Desperate, my internal voice warned. He rubbed my back and chuckled as well. "I'm, I'm not a witch," I stammered. "Just w-weird."

"Yeah?" he cooed. Julian's touch and low voice were calming. I tried to lift my head to look at him but couldn't. 

"Jules, I...I," I began.

"Shh," he soothed, stroking my hair. "You're okay."

It suddenly felt natural for my eyes to be closed. An all-encompassing wave of exhaustion hit me. The pull of soothing darkness enticed me. And altogether, my consciousness slipped.

Previous Part | Next Part

[ashland-frost]

Slytherin & his Ravenclaw

Just a simple fan fiction, read if you like and give me some feedback, I'm been working on my writing.

My OC is Ashland Frost from a necromancer family and is good friends with Sebastian Sallow.

Had a dream about this so I just wrote it out.

Frost strolls through the courtyard and notices Anne, Sebastian, and Ominis huddled together. However, Sebastian appears visibly sad and exhausted. As Frost approaches, she realizes that Anne and Ominis are glaring at her and Sebastian, clearly displeased. Despite knowing that they don't particularly like her, Frost and Sebastian share a strong bond. With a mischievous grin, she greets the two before shifting her attention to the weary Sebastian, who sits in the middle looking utterly defeated.

Anne and Ominis hastily rise from their seats and shoot Frost a disdainful glance. Unfazed by their animosity, Frost, who hails from a family of necromancers, takes a seat beside Sebastian. He turns to her and apologizes, explaining that Anne and Ominis believe she is the reason he has been delving into the dark arts and have been lecturing him for hours. Exhausted, he sighs and rests his head on her shoulder.

" I'm used to being misunderstood, but you seem really down. Is something else bothering you?" she asks, gently stroking his head and running her fingers through his messy brown hair. He lets out a sigh and buries himself further into her neck for comfort. "My uncle keeps getting on my case, and I feel like nobody understands me," he explains. "Ominis is my best friend, but he's closer to my sister, and they always seem to be on the same page. Meanwhile, I'm always the one at fault... Am I really that difficult to understand? Even my own family and closest friend don't seem to get me." He looks on the verge of tears, which surprises her, as he usually hides his emotions well.

"Sebastian, you have me. I understand you. It's okay if just one person in this world does. That's the best we can hope for," she says, leaning her head closer to his. "Please don't cry. I hate seeing you so sad, especially when I've never seen you look so defeated.”

Frost always maintains a composed demeanor, but with Sebastian, it has become a challenge. Witnessing him in such pain tugs at her heartstrings. As a tear escapes his eyes, she swiftly brushes it away. The sun begins to set, casting a gentle glow upon them. Few students linger around as they find solace in each other's embrace on the bench. Although they are merely friends, outsiders often mistake them for a couple. In reality, they have never labeled their relationship, content with the closeness they share. As the sun dips below the horizon, enveloping them in shadows, the lights gradually illuminate, creating a serene atmosphere as they sit in comfortable silence.

“It breaks my heart to see myself in such a pitiful state, especially in front of you " he murmurs softly, his voice filled with a few sniffles.

She finds it endearing, unable to resist his vulnerability. "You don't have to apologize for feeling this way. I'll always be here to provide comfort," she reassures him, gently playing with his hair. Although her words bring him some solace, the fear of her leaving and not being by his side forever still haunts him.

His voice drops even lower, almost a whisper, as he asks himself more than her, "Will you truly be here?" A smile graces her lips as she hears the desperation in his voice. "I promise," she whispers, planting a tender kiss on the top of his head, feeling the tickle of his soft, fluffy hair against her nose. "You seem exhausted. Why don't you have dinner and go to bed early?”

"Would you like to join me?" He asks gently. Aware of her preference to avoid crowded places while eating, Frost responds with a hum, "Sure, hopefully your sister and Ominis won't make a fuss about it."

Excited by her agreement, he says, "Come on, let's go before the entire school fills the Great Hall." They make their way to the Ravenclaw table and start eating, attracting the attention of a few students who rarely see Frost during dinner. She usually keeps to herself, and her unique appearance as an albino makes her stand out. There is an undeniable beauty about her that captivates Sebastian's gaze, as well as the curiosity of other students.

"I'm sorry... I know you don't like being stared at," he apologizes. She smiles and reassures him, "It's alright, love. It's just dinner. I'm used to having eyes on me wherever I go. Looking like a ghost isn't exactly ordinary."

Sebastian grins and playfully remarks, "A Snow Fairy attending school is definitely intriguing." Her pale cheeks blush a rosy pink as she responds, "Please don't call me that in public. It feels embarrassing."

With a wide grin on his face, he savors every bite of his food. Just then, Anne and Ominis enter the room and take a seat at the Slytherin table, their eyes fixed on Sebastian and Frost. Frost slowly turns her head, sensing their intense gaze. Despite Ominis being blind, his presence is unmistakable when he desires it. She playfully winks at them, flashing a smile. Meanwhile, Sebastian remains oblivious, focused on finishing his meal.

She doesn't want him to become sad again, Frost decides to divert his attention by gently poking his cheek. "You look like a chipmunk stuffing his face, so cute," she teases, causing his face to turn red as he chews his food, avoiding eye contact by staring down at his plate. They continue to banter and enjoy their meal together. Once they finish, Frost suggests taking a leisurely walk, and Sebastian eagerly agrees. Leaving the hall behind, they wander aimlessly, enjoying each other's company.

"Huh, can't believe it's already this late. Should I walk you back to your dorm?" Frost suggests.

a mischievous smirk playing on Sebastian's lips. "Although, I must admit, it feels like the roles should be reversed here. But just for tonight, I'll allow it."

They make their way towards the Slytherin dorms, Frost reminding him, "Make sure to get some sleep, you look like the dead."

"I've been having trouble sleeping lately," he confesses, scratching his head.

Frost rummages through her pockets and pulls out a small bottle. "Here, take this. It'll help you sleep. Those bags under your eyes look dangerous."

He accepts the bottle, but his hands linger on hers. "You care about me so much. I know you were trying to distract me from looking at Anne and Ominis at dinner... thank you," he says, his hand slipping away.

Blushing slightly, she playfully pokes his chest. "How could I not care about you, you silly boy?" A warm smile spreads across her face as she gazes up at him. "Bend down a little, I don't like how tall you're getting!" she pouts, and he obediently lowers himself to her level. She grabs his collar, catching him off guard, and surprises him with a kiss. His eyes close, overwhelmed by the unexpected affection. Afraid to hold her too tightly, he keeps his hands to himself as they share a sweet and tender moment. When they finally part, both are left flustered beyond words. She turns away slightly, her voice soft and affectionate. "Goodnight, my sunflower." He's completely taken aback, As he stuttered out the words "goodnight, my... snow fairy," he vanished through the Slytherin door.

Frost couldn't help but giggle, her wide grin quickly fading when she noticed Anne's intense gaze. "Are you two dating?" Anne asked, her eyes filled with surprise. Despite their closeness, Frost and Sebastian had never seemed intimate with each other.

"We're not dating... yet. But I would love to be with him. I truly care for your brother," Frost replied. Anne's shock was evident as she stammered, "You... do you love him?"

Frost nods half-expecting Anne to be angry, but instead, she let out a sigh. "I don't know why I'm surprised. You two have always had this unique connection. I guess I'm just worried that you're leading him astray, teaching him things he shouldn't learn."

"I do teach Sebastian whatever he wants to know, but he's intelligent and responsible, Anne. He won't get into trouble. However, if you keep treating him like a troublemaker and making him feel guilty all the time, it might create problems in the future," Frost explained, looking down before meeting Anne's eyes again. "Do you despise me so much because of who I am? And what my family does?" she asked, her voice filled with vulnerability.

Anne's frustration was evident in her expression as she replied, "No, I don't hate you. I'm just overly concerned about my brother's well-being, and I guess I let that cloud my judgment. I'm sorry. I can see that you genuinely care for him.”

Frost nodded, her eyes softening with understanding. "I understand your worry, Anne. Sebastian means the world to me, and I would never do anything to harm him or get him im trouble, If anything, I want to support him and help him in everything."

Anne sighed again, her shoulders slumping slightly. "I know you mean well, Frost. It's just hard for me to accept all this, especially with his interest in the dark arts, but he can make his own choices. I've always been the one looking out for him. Our uncle is, well, you know, but I need to trust him more."

"I have absolute faith in him, Anne," Frost said gently. "I want to explore, to learn, and to be with him, I hope you understand"

Anne's eyes filled with a mixture of emotions – love, worry, and a hint of resignation. "I suppose I need to step back and let him be, Ominis and I have been nagging him too much, I didn't even realize he was so exhausted. Just promise me, Frost, that you'll always be there for him. Promise me that you'll protect him when he needs it."

Frost reached out to hold Anne's hands. "I promise, Anne. I will never leave his side. He means everything to me"

A hint of a smile tugged at the corners of Anne's lips, her worry beginning to fade. "Thank you, Frost. I appreciate your honesty and your love for my brother. I just want the best for him."

Frost squeezed Anne's hands gently, the bond between them strengthening. "I know you do, Anne. And I promise, I will always strive for Sebastian's happiness, because its my own too"

Anne couldn't help but burst into laughter. She never expected Frost to be so cheesy, especially when it came to expressing her feelings for her brother. It made her wonder if her own brother was just as corny when it came to her.

Frost joined in the laughter, admitting, "Yeah, yeah, I know. he definitely makes me question the things I say sometimes." She couldn't help but feel a tad embarrassed by her words and relieved to have gained Anne's acceptance, knowing it would mean a lot to Sebastian.

As Frost bid her farewell and made her way back to the Ravenclaw dormitory, her ethereal white hair disappeared up the winding stairs.

"She looks like a magical creature," Anne remarked, her eyes filled with admiration. "My brother certainly has a knack for choosing extraordinary girls."

Emerging from the corner, Ominis joined the conversation. "So it would seem, and I see your conversation went smoothly."

"After knowing you for five years, it still gives me chills when you appear out of nowhere. Couldn't you at least make some noise?" she teased, rolling her eyes playfully.

"Where's the fun in that?" he replied with a mischievous smile. "But I suppose we should let Sebastian pursue his hobbies undisturbed."

Anne putting Ominis into the Slytherin common room.

"I believe that's the wisest course of action," she agreed, taking Ominis' hand, causing a faint blush to colour his cheeks.

"What are you doing?" he stammered, caught off guard.

"Simply escorting my dearest friend to his room," she replied with a warm smile.

"Don't you dare start!" he exclaimed, his flustered expression turning into a playful one.

[ibraidedmybootyhairs]

what's up with you and the nazis from inglorious basterds bc I'm ngl I wanted to fucking kill them when I watched it... not sure what u got goin on.

oouuu ive gotta address this

gotta clarify im not a nazi and im a leftist on the political spectrum, not to mention im asian and I dont fw that save europe bs

its weird but im trying to really back away from it. im looking at my page and seeing such drawings and posts looks like im glorifying it but I AM NOT⚠️ ⬇️⬇️⬇️

i now know that there’s a thin line with these types of characters in which one shouldn’t lose themselves and cross over. i was heavily interested in the third reich when i watched ib and it would be the only thing going on in my mind, leading to desensitization in such topics. as time progressed, I started losing interest and really realizing how much more grave world war 2 as a whole was. due to that i started straying away from inglorious basterds. i still love the movie and im a big fan of tarantino’s work and how fleshed out the characters are but now i can look back and think logically about my behaviour.

rn i still like the characters because some are developed well. you can enjoy a character’s writing w/o agreeing with the actions that they are portrayed to be doing because its fictional and theyre meant to be fucked up. doesnt mean i hold such ideals but it does show that i can acknowledge tarantino’s ability to write purposefully fucked up characters and appreciate it

dont know if i got all my thoughts out and if I worded it correctly as its late but tell me if you have more inquiries or if specification is needed

tldr: i was a freak because i got too into it and got desensitized. taking a break from burying myself in such a topic made me steer away from it and this ask was really good tbh. I think i needed someone else to put me in my place

more in comments

[stergeon]

for the writer ask

💭🚦💛 💌

💭 What inspires you and your writing?

this is a real marketing major-ass answer (from your local marketing major), but i love sharing knowledge and telling stories. writing’s one of those things that’s a bit of a compulsion for me—i’m always writing something. i took a five-year break from fiction writing before i stumbled ass-first into fanfic last year, but even in those years when i was focusing on my career, i was writing guides and trainings and a ton of other stuff—just not anything fun, lol.

writing is also so cathartic. sometimes i set out to tell a specific story, but at other times, a particular emotion gets me in a vice grip and i have to put it to words before it’ll go away. my stories tend to wind up as emotional dumping grounds as a result.

i don’t write things pulled directly from my own life, but there are bits and pieces of myself and things that have happened to me scattered throughout stuff i’ve written, and usually when i’m about 75% of the way through a piece, i’ll realize it’s absolutely related to something i’m currently going through. funny how art works that way, even when you don’t intend for it to.

and occasionally i just have a fire lit under my ass about an issue and i get so hot about it that i gotta compile my thoughts. looking at you, silver snow

🚦 What sort of endings do you prefer to write: ambiguous, bad, happily ever after, etc.?

look, i would love nothing more for them girls (pick whichever girls you please) to have a happy ending where they kiss and are stupid in love for the rest of forever. i love reading those kinds of stories. but in my heart of hearts, i love an ambiguous ending. i like when there are still questions after the story ends. i like thinking about where things could go or how the characters will go on after the events of the story. like, shared space could be read as having a happy ending, but i don’t really think it is. and with the victors; the vestiges, well. you’ll see :0)

come to think of it, i’m not sure i’ve ever written a happily-ever-after, but i don’t think i’ve ever written a 100% bad ending, either. i read too many bury-your-gays stories and watched too many sad european queer coming-of-age films in my youth to ever be happy putting that kinda thing out into the world. i want to write about love with all its ugliness, but not despair or hopelessness. i think what most appeals to me about an ambiguous ending is that lingering feeling of hope. it’s not the same as the kind you get from a happily-ever-after, and something about it speaks to me.

💛 What is the most impactful lesson you’ve learned about writing?

honestly? how to take criticism. i took a creative writing class in high school where we had to read our work out loud and then receive feedback on it from the other writers in the class, and that did a lot for me. going into that class, i’d already been writing for forever and had won some little local writing contests and such, so i was a wee bit of a pretentious douche. but i’d never gotten real critique before beyond, essentially, spelling and grammar checks. it humbled me lol. it made me grow so much as a writer, and i could see where i needed to improve or where my head was wedged way too far up my own ass for others to follow. it also helped me recognize strengths i didn’t know i had, and that was huge. it’s easy to get into a self-doubt spiral when making creative work, and good, constructive criticism can do so much to help avoid that.

to this day i love critique. i like knowing what worked or didn’t work so that i can continue to improve as a writer and do better next time. did my themes land? did something really work, but another part fall flat? i’d love to know!! i try to treat everything i write as practice for the next thing, and frankly that’s helped take some of the pressure off so i don’t go into total Perfectionist Mode.

i know critique is kind of a sensitive topic in fan spaces, but i think that’s because a lot of people have gotten unsolicited criticism that is purely critical and isn’t constructive. but getting good, constructive criticism will do so much to help a person grow as a writer. it’s scary, and sometimes it hurts! writing is very personal for most people, and it stings when things aren’t received the way you think they will be. but i know i’ve grown more from having my failures pointed out (and, very importantly, having the good things about those efforts acknowledged) than anything else.

💌 Is there a favorite trope you like to write?

actually Just answered this in another ask!

[zombie-rott]

Fan Fiction Master Post

Hello! Are you eating well? Sleeping well? Ready to read some Ghostly fan fiction? Good, good!

Here's my master list with alternative links to my A03 account. I'll update this as things progress!

Enjoy, Ghoulies.

Ongoing.

"The Driftwood & The Rift." - Tumblr Pt 1 A03

SFW but warnings for alcohol abuse, violence, implied non-con & abuse.

Not everyone enjoys Yule. Least of all the ministry’s favourite fire ghoul. Marred by his sordid past in the pit, Dew locks himself away to begin his yearly tradition, but with Swiss no longer there to control him, things get out of hand. And if he’s going to be banished for his shameful behaviour, he might as well tell one of his oldest friends exactly where his feelings lie.

"Pawprints"- Tumblr 1 2 3

SFW. Terzo was adamant that, while he loved his prime mover, the sentiment did not extend to her cat, Greta. Or 'Poca G' as she lovingly called her. Yet, when he finally invited Sister Sofia to move into his chambers, Greta would end up becoming absolutely and completely smitten with him.

*Hiatus while I work on my other series*

Completed.

Sleepless - Tumblr / A03

SFW. Elena has suffered from an unknown sleep disorder ever since she was a child. She's chronically exhausted and at her wits end when she reaches out to The Church of Santanas. And despite the help of Papa Terzo and his ghouls, they can find no answer to her plight.

Blood in the boardroom - Tumblr / A03

SFW. It really wasn't the right time for you to take your period. You had too much to do and so little time to do it in. But no matter how you tried to power through the pain, nature had other plans.

I look above but all I see is the dirt that buried me - Tumblr

SFW. Six feet? Or was it eight? How deep were people usually buried in the ground?

Burying myself alive - Tumblr Pt1. Pt2 / A03

SFW. You haven't been coping lately, and things are getting stressful as the new tour dates approach. You don't know how you're going to survive without him, especially when feeling so vulnerable, and take to running to calm your anxiety.

But, even as a seasoned runner, you neglect yourself. Slowly you began slipping back into a world you promised you never would.

WARNINGS! Mentions of anorexia nervosa, eating disorders, and mental health issues.

"Self-care isn't selfish, Papa." - Tumblr / A03

SFW. Papa Copia needs to understand the meaning of 'self-care' after a hard tour. Fortunately, the ghouls are there to help.

"Of Mortal Flesh and Bone." - Tumblr Pt 1 Pt 2/ A03

SFW. Phantom doesn’t know how to find his place in the band because how can he replace Aether.

"Pawprints"- Tumblr Pt 1 Pt2 Pt3

SFW. Terzo was adamant that, while he loved his prime mover, the sentiment did not extend to her cat, Greta. Or 'Poca G' as she lovingly called her. Yet, when he finally invited Sister Sofia to move into his chambers, Greta would end up becoming absolutely and completely smitten with him.

"Won't You Show Me Your Weakness?"- Tumblr Pt 1 / Pt2 A03

NSFW (Part 2). Swiss felt realisation dawn on him. It had to be love, there was no other explanation. His body had chosen a mate, and that’s why this felt so different to him than the usual cat-and-mouse games that he played with lovers.

Or

Swiss is desperately in love with Cumulus but he's not sure she feels the same.

[gogandmagog]

HELLO, I don’t have a tumblr but I wanted to say hello. A group of us on facebook saw a post of yours shared there, about your thoughts on a Gilbertless Anne. And we all loved the idea so much! You have my heart and sword! But then when I came here to see what else you posted, I saw you link someone to your fanfiction in a question they asked, and I gasped when I saw you are the same person who wrote the Smugglers Jug! You are such a good writer. The facebook group of us (and some here with tumblers) all found your story because KWAK has favorited you, which begs the question... how does it feel to be gods favorite?? HOW DOES IT FEEL TO BE LIVING MY DREAM? LOL. No doubt why you’ve been favorited, you’re so frickin’ talented! Now we’re all praying to God that you will write this fanfic about acrobat Anne and rakish Gilbert! Any chance of this? And will you ever finish the smugglers Jug and your other fics? Just curious.

Oh, man. Thanks so much! This means a lot to me! I did see that post jump to the top of my notifs yesterday, and it was a big surprise because it’s just months and months old and long since buried. I thought, okay, someone popular reblogged, I guess!     About finishing the fan fictions that I’ve posted... yes, I will, they’re not forgotten! I’m hoping to have the time to complete the Smugglers Jug in November. My boss and his family leave for Poland then, where they will stay for the winter months. This frees up my schedule immensely! Part two is about 2.5K words right now, and I do tinker with it now and then, but I still have miles and miles to go with it. As for future fics, I’m so sorry... I don’t ever see myself being able to write that AU. I really feel that to pull it off effectively, it’d need to be novel length; a venture I may only have time for when I’m fifty! But I love that you loved the idea enough to ask. And I think some of your friends from the same group also messaged me! You guys are so generous! And appreciated!     To being in katherine-with-a-k's favorites... you know someone else here once mentioned this to me! I have to say, just as I did then, that I understand that it’s a huuuuge compliment! She’s the best of the best, isn’t she? But I’m seriously so embarrassed about it (I’m overall a very embarrassed person, every day of my life); finding out that the iconic kwak read something I’d posted felt just like... like if Anne, when she was about to meet Mrs. Charlotte E Morgan, was forced to hand over an old Story Club sketch! Sheesh.

[rainbowsky]

Hello Rainbowsky!!

You get many asks every day. Antis will tell BJYX is not real while sometimes turtles who are confused may give you different reasons why they think BJYX may not be real. And sometimes turtles who leave the fandom give you reasons why they are leaving the fandom. Still, you have 100% faith that BJYX is real. And by your answers I can see that whatever may happen in the fandom you never loose your confidence on BJYX. For this I want to salute you.

I am a person who easily believes in other people’s words. And on top of that I am a pessimist. Thus, this quality of yours really amazes me.

I want to ask how do you keep your confidence so strong?

Hi Anon! 😊

Fake, fan fiction, CPN.

I have to salute you, Anon, because you seem to have picked up on something that maybe not a lot of my readers would necessarily be very conscious of: I'm constantly buried under a pile of other people's doubts, worries and disdain.

I get an extreme volume of nay-saying, questioning, picking apart, attempts to dismantle and debunk, anti messages, hate messages, panic about doubts, grief over theorized breakups, attempted gotcha messages about other CP material that 'proves' they are with someone else, entire lists and catalogs of why people don't believe, etc etc etc. You name it, I see it.

It's funny because I don't think there are many turtles who could read the things that I read every day and still be turtles 😅.

You said of yourself that, "I am a person who easily believes in other people's words." Are you sure it's not, "I am a person who easily believes in other people's negative, cynical words"? Because there are a lot of turtles out there saying positive things, and talking about GG and DD as being in love, etc. and I'm not getting the sense you're deeply attached to their words.

But I can answer your question (and the answer is relevant to that statement of yours) - how do I keep my confidence? Easy:

Everything I believe comes from me, not from other people.

Everything I take in goes through my own internal process of critical thinking, questioning, evaluating, examining, investigation, etc. etc. etc. I think for myself. I make up my own mind based on the evidence I am able to find. I make a genuine, dedicated effort to learn everything I can about a topic and then draw my own conclusions.

This is true of how I decide what is the best brand of pasta, which documentary I want to watch tonight and which mattress will give me the best sleep, every bit as much as how I decide how I feel about capital punishment, who I think will be the best political candidate, and what my spiritual beliefs are.

When you think for yourself, you'll never fall prey to other people's thoughts. You will know where you stand because you arrived at that point through a thorough, rigorous, good-faith process.

I don't know how other people arrive at their ideas, but I get the sense that a LOT of people arrive at their ideas not through the available evidence or a rigorous querying of the subject, but rather through a quick impression of the tone and perceived status of the person speaking to them - and also based on some weird psychosocial calculus about which option it would be more embarrassing to be wrong about.

The thinking seems to go like, "If the person seems really certain of what they're saying, and if I feel socially intimidated by the person and my perception of how authoritative they seem to be (they seem to know more than me), and if I don't want to be seen as someone who would foolishly believe _____ if it turns out to be false, then..." and that's just 5,000 flavors of wrong.

Do your own thinking. No one out there is more qualified than you to evaluate what's best for you to believe and participate in.

Question everyone and everything - including me. Dig into critical thinking, logical fallacies and intellectual self-defense. Learn how to be an independent mind. It will serve you well throughout your life.

As for GG and DD and the fandom (apologies to those who've heard me say this a thousand times): SZD or not shouldn't matter. Just enjoy GG and DD, enjoy their projects, enjoy being a fan and learning more about them, and if SZD comes to you someday that's fine. If it never does, that's fine too.

There is no obligation to believe SZD in order to be a turtle or to enjoy being a fan. In fact, those who get overly invested in whether GG and DD are a real couple only make themselves miserable.

[mask131]

I originally drew a whole rant jumping off from this specific point, but I realized maybe I just should stick to my original point and not lose myself in grounds where I could cause all sorts of murky and never-ending debates. So here we go with the seed of thought:

Currently, there are a lot of TV shows (cartoon or live-action), or even streaming shows (which isn't the same as TV ones) that start out good, have adored seasons, and then a bad season happens. And when a bad season happens, fans are sad and angry - and it is normal. You had such a great and good show, and then you crashed it in something that is bad. Yes, one can say this season "ruined the show".

But here is my problem with what is happening more and more: because of a bad season, everybody suddenly turns on the show they once loved and adored. And by "turning against", I mean they suddenly consider the ENTIRE show as bad, and refused to acknowledge the series as a whole. Because of one or several bad seasons, the entire show gets stamped with a big "That's crap don't even look at it or think about it".

... No. If you loved the, I don't know, first four seasons, thought it was one of the most entertaining and well-written things you had seen on TV, and then a bad season happens, you don't need to suddenly say "Yes, the first four seasons are crap". No. They're good. Season five to seven will be horrible and bad. But it does not remove the quality of the first seasons. It doesn't work like that - a bad season does not retrospectively change the quality of an earlier one. If you loved and adored the show before, it was for a reason, and if you ignore the bad seasons and pretend as if it did not exist, you will find you still enjoy greatly the show.

What I mean to say is that... When you favorite or beloved show turns to crap, you don't need to cross the entire show out of your heart. It would be stupid. A form of denial. You certainly are not forced to love bad seasons just out of faithfulness for the old ones - that's another delusion. When something turns bad it turns bad, you must admit it. But it doesn't mean the good parts aren't there anymore. These old seasons and these old series are still there. And you can perfectly well advise to people to watch them and only them, and stop before the show goes bad. You can still love and gush and talk about the part of the show you loved. You don't need to take a shovel to hit it until its dead and bury it in the desert. You don't need to treat it as an old shame. It was good, it was good. It inspired you, it inspired you. You can still recognize it is bad now or ended horribly, while pointing out it had some of the greatest things ever or a thing so clever you haven't seen it anywhere else. You can still choose to own not the full set of DVDs but only the ones of your favorite seasons. You can still praise the golden age of an era, without feeling you are betraying the show by pointing out there is a dark and crappy age opposing it.

In general, this all seems to fit into a wider phenomenon of the "fear of imperfection". People on the Internet are becoming OBSESSED with having perfect shows, perfect books, perfect series, perfect movies, and reject, ignore, hate blindly anything that is not perfect, placing in the same trashcan objectively bad stuff with good but flawed stuff. Except you cannot escape flawed fiction, even more, you need it. These people with such a puritan mindset deny themselves the very principles of what we call today "guilty pleasures" or "B-movies" or "cult classics" or "nostalgic hits". But these "secondary" works are just as important and impactful as the "perfect" works and the "master-pieces" and the "best there ever was".

There's a lot more things to say and we can go very deep down this well, but I hope it was clear enough.

[danoscigarette]

Eli Sunday x f!Reader

Chapter I - My Body is a Cage

Summary: A young girl and her religious family move to Little Boston - the only problem is the reader is faithless. With no other choice, her family turns to the likes of a young pastor to rekindle the lord’s flame and penetrate her with the Holy Spirit.

Warnings: misogyny, nothing too heavy right now, religious trauma, eventual smut so 18+

A/N: Just a warning,,,,I haven’t even watched There Will Be Blood yet but I’ve found myself on Eli Sunday TikTok and I had to write this up 🥵 I did look up the plot though, so I spoiled the movie for a bit of smut - Its just who I am. - Also sorry if there are any inaccuracies in this, just overlook them 😌

I have a lot of religious trauma and this may be projected through this fan fiction. I will also update any tags if necessary!

Also I am still writing my Riddler x Reader, this little fic is what I have written between chapters so if you are having some Paul Dano brain rot - check out my longer fic: Riddle Me Witch

AFAB reader using she/her pronouns

Christ, the Lord Saviour was sent to Earth by his Heavenly Father to die for humanity's sins. This is the word that was drummed into you since you left the womb, the word that continues to ring in your ear at church and the word that you will be buried to. Religion to you was a dictation and an oppressor, especially to a young woman like you in a time such as this. 1911, a mere decade past the turn of the century and women were still held tight by religion's iron grip; this continuous mistreatment erupted into a storm within you.

The youngest of 3, your family were simple church going folk; the almost idyllic image of a good Christian household. You however, were the exception. Called a spoiled brat by most, hysterical by others, you internally spat at the floor whenever you heard the word of the 'Lord'. Your disdain for the Christian religion eventually lead you to lose your faith completely. You'd ask questions, something which was a 'no-no' in your household, making blasphemous remarks and even mocked the Bible. Your poor family tried their best to tame you, to teach you, to brain wash you to no avail.

It came as a detriment to them, you were always chaperoned in case you misspoke in public, not that you were stupid enough to do that considering it was a punishable offence. Other than church, your parents had kept you away from formal functions and parties - especially events that included alcohol. If you weren’t already bold, the alcohol certainly brought out your passionate anti-religious speeches.

Another issue your parents had was being unable to marry you off to some good man. All you encounter were either stupid, cowardly or had zero tolerance to your headstrong personality. Things became worse when your father died; he at least used to keep you in check. You'd allow no man to dominate you, no man would dare. Even at both of your sisters wedding, the gentlemen who'd approach you would soon turn on their heel and run head fast away from you - and you liked it this way. You could be independent forever, the master of your own life.

That was until your mother remarried. You kept out of your family's business for the most part so your mother finding love again was the least of your worries; that was the case before discovering your step-father, Joe and his plans. He wishes to move you and your family to a place called Little Boston, California. Apparently, being a young girl in her 20s and unmarried was quite the unfortunate state of events - your family's reputation was at stake. If you had chased away all of the men in your town then god see to it that he will find you a husband in another.

The idea sprung to mind when your step-father was offered a job out there which promised oil. Your mother and him thought it be a great idea to place you in a different, more enclosed environment - to break your spirit down, make you vulnerable and willing to accept Jesus and be a meek woman like a good baptised lady should. Needless to say, you weren't thrilled by the idea. And by that, you threw a fit of rage. You might have been the dark sheep of the family, but in your home town you had the community, you had friends and even a chance at a future for yourself.

You understood completely why they wanted to take you, fuck the oil job, they were punishing you into submission. Your family dragged you kicking and screaming to Little Boston, no amount of comforting words sated your fury. But here you are, sat in your new house, in your new bedroom, sulking into a chair and staring out the window. It was an almost barren land, the sky stretched on for miles and the noise was quiet, too quiet; you enjoyed peace but this, this was eery.

Your eyes hung heavy, bags from lack of sleep and dried tears, you looked a wreck. The population in this god forsaken town was stupidly small and the combined IQ even smaller; no doubt full of religious and uneducated nut jobs considering a school has not yet been built. Your punishment.

The pressure built in your bones, rage rampant in your chest and head full of thoughts that could shame your family for generations. You could feel your whole body shake, how dare they do this to you, cornering you like an animal.

It had been 3 days since you moved in and you hadn't spoken a word to anyone, staying in your room you refused to engage with your oppressors. That was until you saw a group of people approach your house, you look down and notice a young girl and three men; two who were quite obviously identical twins. Staying out of sight, you listen to your step-fathers interaction with them - it was them welcoming your family to the community and that you should pay the "Sunday's" a visit for dinner.

As they walked away, you stayed staring out at the window, catching another glimpse of the party; in doing so, one of the twins had turned back and noticed you. For a split second you considered hiding but instead, you held eye contact with him - an interesting looking fellow dressed all in black and wearing a cross around his neck; another religious nut. Even so, you couldn't help but stare, even when he turned around and carried on walking, you watched him disappear with his family.

"Y/N..." you hear a knock at the door, turning to it, you accept their entrance to see your mother. Despite feeling immense anger, your mother held an air of comfort, especially when you are feeling emotional. It's almost as if the more you feel, the less strong-willed you felt. "How are you doing darlin'?" She comes to sit on the bed close enough to place a hand on your lap. You hesitatingly take it in yours, playing with her fingers lightly.

"Well, I have made my thoughts quite clear" you begin, raising an eyebrow. "But I am surprised at how lovely the weather is" it was the only thing you could really say that was positive. As much as you wanted to keep your wilful persona, you mother occasionally brought out the softer side of you; she had been through a lot as it is and you knew how much of a nuisance you could be towards her.

"Isn't it just lovely?" Your mother had a sweet Texan accent, it was gentle and dainty, much like her as a person. "I would say that would be mighty fine to explore this place, wouldn't you?"

You don't respond at first, calming yourself before answering. Your mother was really trying with you and you wouldn't forgive yourself for shouting at her so soon upon arrival. "Perhaps we can walk about the town once we are all settled"

"Oh Y/N!" Your mother threw her arms around you with a squee, you welcomed her with cautious affection; you really didn't want to explore (not that there was much to explore anyway) but you wanted to meet her part way at least. "Okay but first, we had a little visit from our neighbours, they wish to host a dinner for us as a little welcome! Now waddaya say?"

'No' was the thought that came to mind, you give her an unsure expression. "They could be crooks mama" you doubt it, but anything to put your mother off you'll say.

"Oh don't be silly Y/N, the Sundays are a reputable family they mean no 'arm. The two sons are also unaccounted for" she gives you a cheeky wink, you pull a grimace in return.

"Don't even think about it Ma"

Oh but she did, and she does. Your mother gives you her best puppy dog eyes and holds your hand close to her chest.

"Fine" you exhale out, your mother reaches in for another aggressive hug. You feel slightly defeated, but getting to know the community may help you gage what kind of company you'll be sharing in the future.

"This will be a delightful occasion, but my my Y/N you look like you could do with a week's rest!"

"Will you let me rest for that long?"

"And miss church? I don't think so"

And that was that, you had agreed to a dinner party. You could kick yourself with how quickly you allowed yourself to be convinced to engage in any of your family's shenanigans. But there you were, a Saturday night in June, putting on your forget-me-not blue dress to meet the Sunday family. You hadn't intended on looking particularly nice for this mystery family, however, there was a side of you that wanted to look so good that you'd be intimidating; but then again, you didn't want to look like a common whore either.

"Oh Miss Y/N you look like the prettiest peach in spring" you hear a soft feminine voice chirp. Turning towards the door, you see Vi and Elizabeth, your sisters, poking their head through the frame; grins plastered on their faces.

"Get out of here" you joke, waving your hands to shoo them away.

"Ah come on sis, we're all waiting on ya!" Liz pulls at your arm

"And you will wait even longer" You try to slap Liz's hand away to no avail. Violet and Elizabeth are already married women, Violet being the eldest already had a child on the way. Their husbands Mark and Jason were also (conveniently) offered the job to work with your step-father and decided to move to Little Boston as well.

"Come here, we got a surprise for you" Violet spins you in front of your mirror. "Now please, don't take it off I know what you're like" she wraps a gold chain around your neck, hanging from it was a delicate cross. Your eyes widened.

"Vi! I can't accept this...I don't-"

"Hush now, we are eating with the first family to greet us. We at least have to make a good impression"

You give in, once again; perhaps the new environment had softened you (though you blamed your sleep deprivation) and accepted it. You couldn't lie though, it was a very pretty necklace, whether it was a religious symbol or not.

Walking down the stairs, you could see your mother marvel up at you, she looked like she was on the verge of tears. 'It's not exactly my wedding day' you grumble to yourself. Jason and your step-father Joe had far too much work on their hands to attend any fancy meal, so you it was just you, your sisters, Mark and your mother to attend.

Arriving at the Sunday's house, you are greeted by a young man with a friendly face; this was Paul Sunday. Upon entry he shook all of your hands and you all each gave him a polite smile; except for you - you smiled but it was more civil than it was warm.

"So this is us" Paul spread his arms out to show off his family. "This is my little sister, Mary, my father Abel, my mother Ruth and" finally he waves his hand in his brothers direction. "This is my brother, Eli"

You hold your breath as you look at him, up close he was far more…intense than he was through your window. It astonished you to his likeness of his twin brother except, he was different somehow. More refined perhaps.

'Eli' you repeat in your mind, you notice the same obnoxious cross he wore around his neck. You dismiss all curiosity and enforce those walls again; you may be here for food, but you weren't about to make friends.

"Well hello everyone! This is my family! We have my 3 beautiful daughters, Violet, Elizabeth (and her husband Mark) and Y/N" Your mother reaches out her hand in your direction, you give a little wave with an awkward smile that clearly shows you didn’t want to be there.

Your eyes return to Eli, he is full on staring at you which kind of creeped you out a little. You give him another polite smile before your family take their seats around a table. There were many a pleasant conversation shared amongst the families, you remained silent throughout except for whenever there was a question directed at you. Apparently, Eli was the pastor at the local church, you force yourself not to say anything at this, you just sat there and listened to the drivel about how religion is important blah blah blah.

Neither you or Eli had spoken directly, occasionally exchanging in a few glances here and there. You could feel your palms sweating just thinking about looking at him for longer than a few seconds; for some reason this pipsqueak had made you feel on edge and you couldn't pinpoint why. The dinner continued on, you didn't like to admit it, but the food was actually delicious and far exceeded that of your family's rations for the last few days.

"So tell me Y/N, what's a sweet thang like you doin' unmarried?" Abel asks, you almost chocked on your food. Your mother turns towards you sympathetically and then back to the rest of the party.

"My littl'un has had some trouble over the years..."

"Trouble how?" Paul pushes, the air is thick at this point. You could almost read the room's mind, you look to either Paul or Eli, both of them were also unmarried. You definitely didn't like where this was potentially going.

Before your mother could speak you sit up straight in your seat and pick up your glass of wine. "No man could tame the horse as one could say" you let out a short laugh, the first laugh since you arrived at this cursed place.

"What- what she means to say is that she hasn't found anyone on her level" you mother tried explaining, she at least didn't put you down. "Most of the men where we come from ain't too kind to her fiery nature y'see"

“Nothing wrong with a free spirit” Ruth answered plainly, giving you a sympathetic smile

“There isn’t…but its not a…desirable quality when it comes to finding a suitor” Your mother rubs the back of her neck

“Mama” you disgruntled under your breath, placing a warning hand on her leg. There were a few moments of silence before Abel coughs into his fist.

“I see, I’m sure a bit of Little Boston’s fresh air will do you some good”

“Here here” you mother chimes in, raising a glass before taking a sip of wine. You lean back in your chair in a sulk, the heat of humiliation rising to your face.

"I see you are a lady of faith" Eli finally spoke to you, gesturing to your cross. You blink at him for a moment before realising your necklace.

"I-"

"She is a little hesitant towards religion but she is of the faith, yes" your mother spoke for you once more, panic painfully obvious in her voice.

"Then perhaps she should visit one of my sermons, I do them every Sunday"

“I’ll vouch for my son, he is really very good. I was the pastor for a while before Eli here took over” Abel added

“That sounds like an excellent idea, reinstall those good Christian values we were brought up on” Liz strokes your arm encouragingly, you really wanted to die in that moment.

You purse your lips, really biting your tongue at this point. How you wanted to rant and rave about how ridiculous it all is, but you subsided your anger however, got to keep up with appearances and all that.

"We shall see" were your only words, and they remained your only words for the rest of the evening. Eli personally saw to it a challenge, being a man of God and having so many rely on him sky rocketed his ego; if he could persuade you in any form, he would see it as his greatest achievement.

The rest of the evening was fine, an awkwardness hung in the air but it was manageable. All you wanted to do was escape this place, going somewhere on your own and live as a hermit for the rest of your life. Little Boston was nothing like your home town, the weather may be nice but you honestly couldn't say anything good about it.

[phoenixkaptain]

Was unceremoniously reminded of my affection for Total Drama, specifically Island, which I watched a lot of as a kid, and World Tour, which I watched like three episodes of.

I really liked the show as a kid. I was so upset when Leshawna lost. I got actually physically ill at some points. I thought Cody was the worst because the secondhand embarrassment from him made me want to curl up in a deep hole and bury myself. I thought Noah was gay.

I don’t remember much from World Tour. I remember a few commercials. And Tyler taking a guy’s sock off with his teeth. And that. Is it.

As an adult, I have an even weaker stomach (seriously, I tried to watch a video and they showed one clip and I actually almost threw up. I had to turn the whole thing off. My younger self had an iron stomach, honestly) and my sense of humour has evolved so that I find all of the jokes I found funny as a kid even funnier. And now I can appreciate the psychological manipulation. And the sarcasm. I didn’t really understand sarcasm as a kid.

(I still don’t know if Alejandro really actually fell on purpose, or if he was just lying in the confessional. Like, I feel like I should know? But I just don’t? I kind of believe him when he said it was on purpose.. Am I falling for his manipulations too? What is this?)

Anyway I also feel like the oldest fan of this series on the entire site. I’m almost 23. I feel like the humour is targeted more towards people my age, especially since it came out in my childhood when those types of jokes were prevalent, but I don’t know anymore?? I can’t go into the tags without feeling ancient. I can’t go into the tags without seeing a bunch of ship hate the likes of 2012 Tumblr, like, guys, c’mon. It’s an animated reality show. At least two characters are engulfed in magma/lava and are just fine. Why are you complaining about ships??

I feel like I’m fifteen again and seeing people tell others to kill themselves over their blorbos. I just can’t take this show all that seriously, you know? Noah literally is the picture of a stereotypical gay man, and they still gave him a girlfriend. That shit is hilarious. The two finalists for the first season were the absolute unlikeliest choices. Heather and Courtney both somehow managed to stay on the show for more than one episode. The show is a train wreck, I love it but I just can’t take any of it serious enough to send people death threats over.

Maybe it’s just me. Maybe I’ve become a tired old woman. I just don’t have the energy to hate on random people because they have different opinions than mine. I wish I had the energy of some of these whippersnappers. I wish someone would come out and reassure me that they also like the show and are over 20 years old. I feel like the only adult in a daycare, someone please give these children some adult supervision. I came on this website to swear like a fucking sailor and have a damn good time, not to babysit a bunch of people who can’t even tell reality from fiction.

[notalostcausejustyet]

Text wall incoming.

Happy New Years fan fam. We made it another trip around the sun. And some of those days were made of light and laughter, and some of them were gritted teeth and grief. But we made it. So it’s time to talk about what happens in a year.

What happens when the fundamental understanding of who you are and what you need as a person undergoes a seismic shift? When the edifice of all your understanding has been shaken to rubble around you, and you’re forced to finally reckon with the cracked foundations of who you are?

This was that year for me. To be clear, the buildup had been coming for a long, long time. The methodology I had used to construct my life was unsustainable at best, and deliberate self martyrdom at worst. And of course, this is where learning through the lens of fandom comes in. I have waxed (less than) poetic here before about how fictional media is the gestalt through which so many of us begin to process our trauma. The fulcrum that allows us to lift the weight of what we carry and look deeper into it. That fulcrum this year, for me, was Good Omens. More specifically, it was this glorious and beautiful fandom’s unflinching and enthusiastic willingness to take the narratives offered there and parse the deeper meanings within them. And what are those meanings? What lens has been provided that finally allowed me to see things within myself that desperately needed to be brought into the light of day?

It begins here. Self denial. The act of burying oneself and one’s deepest desires and fundamental needs beneath the asceticism of “I should have/be”. The heart of this for many of us, myself included, lies in religious upbringing that is further complicated by neurodivergence and queerness. What does that mean? It means that you start out at a remove from the rest of humanity. You do not speak the same language, you do not know the steps of this dance. You are a stranger in a strange land. When you compound that with the church informing you that you are a fundamentally broken and unworthy creature during all of your developmental years…well.

All of us need human connection. It is a fact of our biology and evolution to crave community and acceptance. So you begin to whittle yourself away. You nip and tuck and shave and hide everything that may stand in the way of communion. You accept that who you are fundamentally is unworthy of love. You take it into yourself and it becomes a core tenet of who you are. So the foundation is laid and you begin to build a life upon it. Which leads us to our protagonists.

Crowley has stepped away from the idea that you must be “perfect”. He accepts who he is, even as he still holds onto his anger for the rejection that this has caused. “Unforgivable, that’s what I am!” He says. He is hurt and he is furious, but he knows himself. He places the blame squarely where it belongs. With the institution that rejected him, not with his inability to fit into their narrow ideas of who he should be. He doesn’t play the self denial game or go in for martyrdom. He does what he has to do to get by and remains true to himself and his core beliefs. He continues to ask his questions without apology and he continues to seek truth and attempt to share that understanding with others. He decided the rules were shite, so he stopped playing by them.

Aziraphale. Oh Angel. Az as a character exemplifies self denial. He doesn’t fit in within the parameters of the institution, so he tries to make himself less so that he can belong. He ties his concept of self worth to that institution and his acceptance within it, all while knowing it is impossible for him to be accepted as he is. So he denies his own nature. His fundamental needs. He doesn’t sit comfortably within his own skin AT ALL. He is angry, but doesn’t allow himself to embrace it. He has the questions, but won’t ask them. He feels (and is) rejected, but doesn’t allow himself to acknowledge it. (As an aside here, we see this difference in how Crowley refers to himself as a former demon, but Az still refers to himself as an angel). So he doesn’t allow himself to feel, or to have the things that he wants and needs. He keeps thinking that if he sacrifices enough of himself, he will get the community and acceptance he longs for. In the end it leads him to lose the things and people he cares about most. And he hurts himself and them in the process. He is still trying to play by the shite rules.

What did I learn from this? Self denial and martyrdom ends in tragedy. In the end you hurt, not only yourself, but the people you care about. You cannot move through life paring yourself down to pieces for other people. Every time you remove a block from the foundation of who you are, in order to try and gain acceptance and community, you create a wound that doesn’t close. You are slowly bleeding out. When you don’t acknowledge the anger and the questions and your need to BE, those wounds fester. You wind up rejecting the people who want to care for you, even as you reject yourself in service of those who don’t deserve the care you’ve given them.

So. This was the year of realizing that I needed to stop playing by the shite rules. This was the year of realizing that my foundations needed rebuilt. This was the year of realizing that it’s ok for me to be angry and ask questions and realize that I am enough as I am. I don’t need to be less. I don’t need acceptance from people who want me to be less. All of the years I spent denying myself and prostrating myself on the altar of other’s expectations have gained me nothing. And strange as it may seem, I have one angel, one demon and an entire fandom to thank for that insight. Here’s to the next year friends. As @neil-gaiman says. Bravery. And joy.

[handma1denofvenus]

What kind of stuff do you like to write?

This is a good question and I have a lot of answers, depending on how you mean. UNFORTUNATELY this is going to be a long response, so I apologize in advance.

On the broader scale, my goal as a writer has been to write (at least) one work for each genre and medium.

So my last book (my fifth one finished) was a collection of fantasy short stories that all take place in a fictional city on Halloween night with a different fantasy creature for each story.

The short stories went something like this:

A play about a girl trying to rescue her sister from fairies and falling through a fairy circle to the fantasy world linked to their city,

A dialogue between two skeleton sisters buried in the same coffin,

A Second Person POV about a werewolf transforming and trying to tell some really lousy cops that she just killed her friend,

A Third Person POV about two witch cousins and a stranger to the town (also a witch) trying to commune with their (cursed) dead parents,

A vampire love story because I really wanted to write a supernatural YA romance 😭😭😭,

And then the worst of the bunch,

A micro story about a fucking tree person (who's also the mayor) trying to stick his dick in some dirt because he's in love with the personification of the city they all live in. Also he dies 😐😐😐 (which was probably for the best)

Basically, for that project I wanted to do something small scale for what I plan to accomplish big scale.

My last few books have been an array of things though. But USUALLY I find myself drawn to writing LGBTQIA+ characters, usually women and/or genderfluid characters, who go batshit fucking crazy and do the absolute most. I personally love writing strong female characters who are unhinged, whether it be through anger or depression or any other expression of emotions, and also mega gay.

I'm a HUGE fan of character studies.

I do try to include things that kinda interest me/things I know about. For example one book that I've been writing for awhile is a fictional autobiography by a gender-fluid ballerina who suffers with eating disorders, trying to understand their gender-fluidity and sexuality, and FAME.

Another was a multi-POV about a punk rock girlband getting abused by their management and all going through their own things (asexuality, psychosis, bisexuality, pregnancy 💀, fake dating).

And after that, I wrote a trashy boarding school series for rich kids with disabilities and/or disorders. Because I wanted to do something Pretty Little Liars/Gossip Girl/anything CW vibes. Like something that 13 year olds would EAT UP even though it's the most ridiculous thing ever.

Also, lately I been writing a lot of poetry and short stories, some that have been noir for my boyfriend because he loves the 1930s private detective era and Philip Marlowe. I've also been writing a PROSTITUTE story based in the 90s in the Southern USA about sexual abuse and MURDER. So that's been wild. Also, a mermaid/siren soulmates spin-off story in the same world as my fantasy anthology.

But when I first started writing at like 11 years old, it was mostly fanfiction. And stupid teenage pregnancy stories. *cringe*

So to sum up this wildly and cruelly long answer, I plan on writing LOTS of things. And I LOVE writing lots of things.

My writing has been a fucking roller coaster of literally everything, mostly trash. And I've been trying to widen my comfort zone and dip my toe into things I've never tried. I hope to write a little bit of everything one day.

And the one thing they ALL seem to have in common is they're gay as shit and slay as fuck. And there's usually some wild fucking ladies in them.

Anyway, thank you so much for the ask! I haven't really had a chance to talk about my writing on here, so that means a lot. I truly hope from the bottom of my heart that this answer didn't kill you wasn't the worst thing you've ever read.

Xoxo,

Handma1denofvenus

[littleorangecutie]

I'm too frail

Going to be talking about some heavy stuff related to being autistic and being too interested in a fictional character/property/etc. CW for mentions of mental health, pr0ship and SH.

I've never been one to really read fan fiction. I don't really know why, that's just how it is. But something compelled me to visit AO3. Morbid curiosity I guess. And well, let's just say my visit ended in an episode and thoughts of SH. I had a problem with SH maybe 5 years ago or so? I rarely ever get thoughts of it in the present.

I didn't end up doing anything but by visiting that site I made myself extremely upset on purpose. Like, I need to be able to step back and just stay out of places where I know nothing good is going to come of them. Or like, there may be something good but it's buried under layers upon layers of things that can cause me to relapse. Like idk it's embarrassing to me how seeing other people get off on the idea of torturing/violating my comfort character who isn't even real can cause me to go back to my darkest place. I don't consider myself a prude or a puritan or anything. Fictional violence/gore almost never fazes me even though irl if I witness even so much as a street fight with a little bit of blood, I can't stop shaking for an hour. As far proship topics go, I must avoid them at all costs as they are a detriment to my real world health.

It can feel so nice to be passionate about something. To have something that inspires you to create and get excited about and want to see if others have felt the same way about it too. But it also really hurts. That's why I need to keep myself in check.

So uh, I'm going to step back for a bit. Peace ✌️