#and i don't know how I feel about the whole “advertising” my fics and all anymore anyway bc the last 6 years were... yeah

[boyfrillish]

What all kind of platforms are there where you can low-effort and low-pressure share stuff? I know there’s for fanart because I see artists on twt use them, but are there for fanfic? Because that’s what I need I feel... Just a low-effort, low-pressure casual place where I can put my very rough and unbeta’d silly little self-indulgent word strings and toss a link out when I get an itch to share (because I may write specifically what I want to read but hey, someone else out there might like that)

Sharing from docs is not it, ao3 takes so many ressources from my brain to post anything and also kind of makes me want to die from anxiety and stress out, reviving my old ffnet would be same ... so where do I go I’ve been trying to figure this out for months now dgadgddg

[soundlessdreamss]

Hi!

Can i request lucifer and charlie morningstar with starlight glimmer!Reader?

So the reader was lucifer's child back in heaven and when she saw what her father did without her..She felt anger and sorrow insode herself.. But that didn't stop of her because she fell from heaven to hell...And she changed her appearance so nobody would suspect that she looks similar to lucifer

If you know starlight's cutie mark ability that is different..The reader can collect people's soul and feed the souls to her clock

Her clock is golden one with starlight mark on the behind..And she can time travel but she don't use it alot since she still has some other abilities to keep in control..

And the reader just went to the hazbin hotel just to stay there and help with few stuff... And vaggie knows reader but not that deep..Charlie noticed that the reader had few blonde hair strings like lucifer.. So she thought nothing at first..

And the reader saw alastor as father figure so sometimes the reader calls him father and alastor just tells the reader to call him father which the reader become happy since she didn't had anyone else at all

So when lucifer visits the hotel how he will react?

I could just when lucifer pointed it out alastor would have the biggest grin then spoke

"Oh?,well she calls me her father!"

I wanna see it sooooo badly‼️‼️

It's alright if you don't do it<3

Also can be called the servy anon?

I like your fics sm<3

Hope to see more of it<3

Have good day/evening/night<3

omg I LOVE mlp!! Of course I can write this, I haven’t got that far though so I’m not really sure how starlight glimmer acts but I did a bit of research and I’ll try my best to write this well!

PLATONIC/FATHER ALASTOR X READER X LUCIFER (sorry if this isn’t how u write it, I’m still new to this whole fanfic thing ^_^ ) Also this is kinda angsty, and requests are open!

When you were still a kid in heaven you saw Lucifer as the best father in the world! He loved and cherished you deeply, you didn’t think he would give you up that easily. Would he?

You wanted to play with him one day and looked everywhere for him but you couldn’t find him. You asked an angel if they had any clue where he was but they said he was banished with his wife Lillth because they rebelled against heaven.

he seriously just left you like that? Without a word? To say you were angered was an understatement. you were FUMING. But you also couldn’t help but feel so miserable and depressed that he just left you like that.

you thought he cared about you just as much as you cared about him. But you were wrong.

After a couple hundred years when you became an adult, all of that anger and sorrow that you had stored you from Lucifer, you finally snapped. You took it out on the angels which led you to getting banished for being rude and improper.

The first thing you did in hell was change your appearance because you knew Lucifer was the king of hell and you really didn’t wanna see him again after what he did to you. (You also kinda regretted taking your anger out on the angels who did nothing to you.)

Your first couple months in hell were agonizing as everyone here was so different compared to the angels and people in heaven. It felt like you were an outcast.

You tried to not use your powers as much but when it got really bad you decided to collect their soul and feed it into your clock. Or you sometimes dropped time in order to collect their soul as well.

As you were walking in the streets of hell one day you heard an advertisement about a hotel and it caught your attention. You looked at the tv for the ad and it described a hotel where sinners can be redeemed if they just try to become better.

It sounded like a breath of fresh air compared to all these other advertisements for clubs so you decided why not visit the hotel? It couldn’t be so bad.

After a couple minutes of walking you made it to the hotel and knocked on the door. You were taken aback as a blonde haired girl hugged you tight and welcomed you to the hotel. But you also noticed Vaggie was there.

The blonde hair girl introduced herself as Charlie and also Vaggies girlfriend. (You congratulated Vaggie in private and also mentioned to not let Charlie know about her identity.)

As you were talking to Vaggie in private after being introduced to the hotel and welcomed she told you that Charlie was Lucifer’s daughter. You couldn’t believe it.

Not only did he leave you behind, but he started a whole family without you even knowing. You were in disbelief and asked Vaggie to not let Charlie know that you were her older sister technically.

You both agreed to it and went back to the lobby. Charlie couldn’t help but notice you had blonde streaks in your hair that looked similar to her blonde hair but she just shrugged it off.

You were also introduced to a man named Alastor and he greeted you very kindly. And before you knew it you guys started growing a daughter and father bond.

He treated you just like his daughter if he had one, he filled the parental role that Lucifer never did.

It made your heart happy knowing that you could finally have a father figure that you knew wouldn’t leave you. You guys bonded over the span of a couple weeks and you accidentally called him dad once out loud.

He didn’t mind though and said that you could even call him dad because he thought it was sweet that you saw him as your father.

As the weeks went by Charlie finally had an idea to let heaven approve of their hotel she just needed to call her father to schedule a meeting with heaven for her.

The one thing you didn’t expect her to do was to invite him over though. Fuck. What were you supposed to do now?! You really didn’t wanna see Lucifer again and panicked internally.

You helped the crew set up the hotel for Lucifer’s visit but your anxiety just rose more and more the closer it got to an hour passing by. (Since he said he was going in an hour)

Once it was finally time to greet him he burst through the door and hugged Charlie tightly since he had missed her, he also greeted kiki, and razzle and dazzle. It hurt a bit seeing how much cared for her but didn’t care for you.

You tried hiding behind Alastor a bit but Lucifer looked at his way when he pointed out the reservations and noticed it was you even with the changes you did to yourself.

His breathe got stuck in his throat and he couldn’t believe it was really you after all these years. Oh how he regretted never taking you with him.

He approached you and looked at you closely before saying “[reader], is that really you?…”

He brushed some strands of hair out of your face before pulling you into a hug. That was not something the other members of the hotel expected.

You pushed him off quickly though as you were still angry and uncomfortable with him.

He didn’t get why you pushed him off, he thought you still missed him after all these years of not being together.

It didn’t take too long for Alastor to connect the pieces since he was good observer. You had those blonde streaks in your hair for a reason no?… that’s cause you were related to the king of hell himself, Lucifer.

Alastor than put his hand around your waist pulling you closer. (Not in a romantic way!!) He than spoke up about Lucifer’s behavior. “Lucifer if you don’t mind excusing me but, what exactly are you doing with my daughter?”

Lucifer seemed in shock when he said that. “YOUR daughter? Oh please, you remember don’t you [reader]? It’s me your father, Lucifer! He had a desperate and nervous smile on his face hoping that you would remember him.

Before you could speak up Alastor cut you off and spoke first “Oh really? That’s quite funny cause [reader] calls me her father.”

The whole room went silent after that. Lucifer couldn’t believe it, Alastor was just playing around was he? You were probably just having an inside joke with him but no, you really saw Alastor as your father instead of Lucifer, your ACTUAL father.

You saw the heartbroken look on Lucifer’s face and didn’t know what to say in response but managed to mutter something out. “I’m sorry, but it’s been hundreds of years since that day happened, you need to let me go.”

After managing to mutter that out you excused yourself and went back to your room in the hotel. After Alastor and Lucifer fought over you and Charlie, (and after Charlie and Lucifer sang the song together) Lucifer knocked on the door but you didn’t answer so he teleported inside your room.

Only to see you and Alastor on your rooms balcony together. You were crying on the floor from the painful encounter and Alastor comforted you saying sweet words to make you feel better.

Before Alastor or you could notice Lucifer he quickly left and went back to his palace and rethought about his choices he made with you. He knew he couldn’t get his daughter back, it was already too late. If only he made the decision to take you with him.

note: I HAD SO MUCH FUN WRITING THIS!! please don’t be shy to send me requests, I’ll gladly write more fun things like this. ^_^

[olderthannetfic]

Someone took screenshots of my fic and are now mocking me for my writing, it's resulted in hate in my comments and I don't know what to do. The only reason I found out about this was because someone in the comments posted a link to the twitter account that started it. It's the first time I've ever written a fic, is it normally like this? I feel utterly humiliated and hopeless. Do you have any advice? I just feel like I should delete everything and never interact with fandom again.

--

The best way to make them stop is to ignore them or laugh at them... even if that's not how you feel on the inside.

Joke's on them: they're giving you free advertising.

It is actually pretty common, or it used to be. AO3's culture is not like this for the most part, but the 00s were rife with "sporking" accounts, and there used to be whole communities of twits on FFN who would rip apart fic for being "OOC" when what they actually meant was "gay" and/or "horny".

It's a common pastime of the emotionally immature. They especially love inexperienced writers who are easy to cow. Don't give them the satisfaction.

As for the comments, delete the obnoxious ones. People like seeing their own stupid opinions, and people like joining dogpiles. If their stuff is deleted, it won't attract as many new people. If you moderate comments, they can't automatically get the thrill of seeing their nonsense out there.

I personally prefer to archive-lock all my work unless it's a recent exchange fic or something. That cuts down on drive-by morons.

[cowgurrrl]

Some way some how Joel and reader in lftl are able to take each other back to their homes from before. For closure and memories. They both are just two people who miss their babies. And now they get pictures and cards from their homes. Another little piece of Sarah and Jane to go back to jackson.

Hello do you have access to my wips I was literally working on this!! I wrote this more about reader going back to their last apartment because @hier--soir has an amazing fic about Joel going back to Texas and it's absolutely gorgeous <3 anyways, I hope you enjoy!! this made me CRYYYY

Never Grew Up With You

Pairing: Joel Miller x fem!reader

Author's note: Jesus Christ I haven't cried at a fic like this in a LONG time I'm genuinely exhausted

Summary: "To never see her face again is what grief is." — Euripides, translated by Anne Carson, Grief Lessons: Four Plays by Euripides aka this ask [1.5k]

Warnings: talks of Jane, memories, oh it's so sad

It's eerie being back in that town. It's empty, but the remnants of Outbreak Day linger in the streets— decomposed bodies, crashed cars, craters where the bombs hit. You recognize bits and pieces. The downtown area which used light up with Christmas lights and smell like funnel cake during the winter months. The church where you lied on the application form so Jane could get into daycare. Your apartment building. You stop in front of it, Joel at your side, and look up at it. 

It looks smaller than you remember it like maybe you romanticized the shithole after so many years of living in a worse shithole. Only a few windows still have glass, and you catch faded curtains flapping in the abandoned apartments. "Mommy, look!" Jane had yelled that day so you could catch the jets flying over the building. You were standing in the same area you are now. Your heart clenches, and Joel seems to feel it at the same time.

"Are you sure bout this?" He asks, and you nod. "I'll be right here with you the whole time. We can leave whenever you want." You don't answer him. You just take a deep breath and start walking toward the stairs—bullet holes and rusty, dried blood line the path up to your third-floor apartment, but other than that everything is the same. There's even still a flyer on the bulletin board advertising an apartment-wide potluck set the week after Outbreak Day. Jane wanted to go. She said her friends were going and she wanted you to meet them. You said you'd think about it.

When you reach the top of the stairs, you find your apartment door still open and immediately regret not closing it. What if there's nothing left? What if it's been raided? What if it's all destroyed? You push yourself forward until you're over the threshold and back into the life you left behind. The body of the runner who burst into your apartment that night is still there, grey and all but dust at this point. Dirty plates sit in the sink. Jane's kindergarten homework has slid off the table and onto the floor, her scribbly handwriting boring holes into you. You pick it up despite it having boot marks and ripped edges and stare down at how she wrote her name. Joel doesn't say anything, but he squeezes your shoulder and lets you know he's there.

Together, you silently move through the rooms and salvage whatever you find. In your room, you find ratty old clothes from 2003, medical textbooks, and a file full of important documents shoved under your bed. Among the papers are your tax forms, a copy of your college diploma, and Jane's birth certificate— the only physical proof that she was ever here. Jane Eloise born April 7th, 1998, to you and no one else. Somehow, the glaring absence of Matt's name on her birth certificate still makes your stomach turn. You find a few more keepsakes before moving to the living room.

Whatever might've been there has been taken or destroyed by whoever's been in the building in the last twenty years. The blankets and pillows that once lived on your couch are gone. Your TV has been smashed in. The shoes Jane always left in the middle of the floor have disappeared, probably taken by some other parent who was desperate and was too scared to think of the child who left them. You're about to walk down the hallway to the bathroom and Jane's room when something crunches under your foot. You look down, and all the air gets punched out of your chest. As gently as possible, you bend down to pick up the shattered picture frame and stare at it. 

It was a picture taken by a friend at the county fair. Jane is on your right with a half-eaten blue cotton candy in her hand and a water bottle tucked under her arm. Her hair is in a braid, and there's a big blue stain on her Princess Ariel shirt, but she looks happy. You're both smiling big, the reflection of the colorful carnival lights shining in your identical eyes. Everyone always said she looked like Matt, but you can clearly see your features reflected back to you in this picture. God, how could you have forgotten about the way her eyes crinkled when she was happy? Or how she leaned into you in public? Or how young you both were?

"What's that?" Joel asks as he walks over to you, and you meet him halfway to show him the picture, unwilling to hand it over just yet. It takes him a minute to realize what he's looking at, but when he does, he looks up to catch you staring at the picture. "'S that Jane?"

"Mhm,"

"She's beautiful," he says, and you smile. "Is that cotton candy?"

"Yeah, it was her favorite. Practically begged me to buy it for her. I'm pretty sure I overdrafted my bank account just to get it."

"How old are you in this photo?" He asks, and you furrow your brows as you think. 

"Uh, Jane looks about three or four, so I was, at least, nineteen."

"You look happy."

"And tired," you say. Both things are true, but you can't ignore the bags under your eyes or your horribly fitting clothes. You were struggling. You were alone. You were so incredibly ill-equipped and felt the weight of the world on your shoulders. And Jane... Jane is none the wiser. She's smiling. She's fed. She's loved. She's happy. Maybe you were doing a better job than you thought you were. "You know she wanted to go on the Ferris wheel?" You ask, and Joel raises his eyebrows.

"That little?" He asks, and you laugh, nodding.

"I said the same thing, but she was so determined. So, my friend got us tickets to go on it, and we went, just the two of us. But when we started going around, she started getting really scared about the height and how fast it was going. She buried her head in my arm almost the whole time, and I was stressed that she was miserable and we had wasted my friend's money, and I was so fucking tired," you say. "But when we stopped at the top, I told her to look at the sky, and she did. I pointed at the different stars and talked to her about the moon, and she calmed down. I don't know if I distracted her or if she realized how big the sky was in comparison, but when we got down, all she could talk about was how close she got to the moon. After that, we'd go out every night and look at the stars. Even snuck out of our QZ shelter after the Outbreak."

"D'you get caught?" 

"Once. I knew a FEDRA guy, and he let it go. We never got caught again." You haven't thought about Owen in years. You don't know if he's dead or alive. You don't even know if he remembers you. You're not sure if you want to know. 

You grab a few more things from her room: a teddy bear, a few shirts, and a picture of you and her on the day she was born. Being in her space again makes your head swim, and you want to stay here forever and leave as soon as possible, all at the same time. Eventually, after combing through every nook and cranny you still know, you do leave. You say a proper goodbye to the first home you shared with Jane and the memories you made there. You're silently grateful to the apartment for holding so many treasures you would've otherwise never gotten back. 

You don't know why, but you trace your steps back through one of your old routes. Joel is silent beside you and lets you lead, knowing you would never do anything to endanger him. You recount stories as you pass certain buildings or paths; he listens and asks questions about her and your shared life. Before you know it, you're on the same hill overlooking the QZ. The one where you hid with her when the Outbreak first happened. The one you sat down on and sobbed after Adam died because you had to pull yourself together before reentering. The one you buried her on. 

The tree holding her has gotten bigger, its limbs stretching to the sky and the leaves a brilliant green. Seeing it thrive makes you smile just a little before you pivot and start walking to where you know she is. The sight of a fresh bouquet on her spot stops you in your tracks and makes your breath catch. All these years, you worried she would go unremembered under that big oak tree. You worried she was alone and scared. You worried and worried and worried because that's what any good parent does. The yellow flowers protecting her prove your worries wrong. You take a deep breath and grab Joel's hand before walking over to her. 

"Hey bug," you start, fighting your tears, "This is Joel. He’s Sarah’s dad and he’s my… he’s my best friend." You squeeze Joel’s hand and take a shaky breath. "He takes care of me and I take care of him. So, you don’t have to worry about Mommy being lonely, okay? I’m gonna be just fine. You don’t have to be scared for me. I've got my people here just like you've got your people there. So, you just rest and I'll be okay." Now, you're really crying and there's no stopping it.

"I love you. I hope leaving didn't make you think otherwise, but I came back. I'll always come back because you're my baby. You'll always be my baby."

TAGLIST: @abbyhaslongshorts @kiwiharrykiwi @sumsworldz @myloveistoolittle @anavatazes @marantha

[shuploc]

I would like to know how you feel sometimes when people don’t know put your name on your artwork I see people repost your artwork on TikTok or on here and they take your name off or block it out, and the art is amazing like seriously and you deserve every amount recognition.

Oh dude, all the reposting is literally so soul-destroying, lmao. It's disheartening, it's awful, it's completely discouraging. The worst kind is when someone is selling a product with my art on it, (and I obviously don't wanna sound like I'm bragging or anything) but that unfortunately happens way too often.

I don't mind people using my art as a profile picture or even for a fic, or for inspiration for their own art. I really, really appreciate when people reach out and ask before using my art for anything, even if it is just for something as small as a profile picture. In any instance that has to do with reposting though, in general, I think the least you can do is link back to -or at the very least make people aware who the original creator is.

I think it's wonderful to get more eyes on my stuff regardless of where it is, I'd love to be able to inspire or otherwise make a positive impact on someone's life (that's the whole reason I do what I do), but I use the fan art I post as advertisement for my freelance work and to sell prints. If I wasn't posting, and if I wasn't doing it as frequently, I wouldn't get clients. So if the drawings are just floating around aimlessly and no one has any idea where they came from, then obviously no one is gonna reach out for commissions, and no prints are gonna get sold.

But yeah... There's nothing to be done about it, unfortunately, at least not anything that wouldn't otherwise hurt me back, like making my watermark much larger, or end up seeming like an awful person by having to RP as cyber-police and yell at people to "PLEASE, ADD CREDIT!!!" and such 😓

Another thing too is, whenever I do come across one of my drawings reposted somewhere and it doesn't have even a shadow of credit anywhere, reading what people are saying in the comments gives me the same feeling as if someone had made me aware that people were talking about me behind my back, y'know. Like it's something I'm not supposed to see. I know that's just my brain being weird, but it always makes me feel so oddly empty, even if the vast majority of the comments are positive.

Sorry for the long answer lmao, but TL:DR; I really, truly, dislike it, even if it's nice to know more people get to see my work.

[the-rat-wins]

Does this frog make you feel calm?! Or perhaps like you have been mildly poisoned with henbane?

Please enjoy these extra notes regarding things that appear in my Shameless Big Bang fic Last Night at the Verona Grand Hotel, in order of appearance. Also now listed in the work endnotes on AO3 (but without the pictures).

This post contains lots of spoilers for the fic.

The train that Mickey takes from Chicago to Los Angeles is an Amtrak route called the Southwest Chief.

Mickey reads Treasure Island as a reference to Loftec’s fic Take this waltz.

The green popsicle is Melona.

I went for fictionalized geography around where exactly the hotel is, but the descriptions of the view on the drive up are based on pictures of Los Liones Trail.

The Verona Grand is, of course, inspired by the early years of the Chateau Marmont, but also crossed with a creepy old hotel I’ve stayed at in Colorado. The name is a reference to the setting of Romeo and Juliet plus the Neptune Grand from Veronica Mars (for that sunshine noir energy).

The Mark of Zorro (1920): Full disclaimer, unlike Mickey, I didn’t watch the whole thing (I didn’t have the good incentive of looking for my crush), but the moments I referenced are here and here.

(About ten years ago, I went to an outdoor movie screening that had been advertised as The Mask of Zorro but turned out to be The Mark of Zorro; after about 30 minutes, we all gave up and went home. Sorry, Douglas Fairbanks! We wanted Antonio.)

Hunter’s name is a reference to 1950s actor Tab Hunter, who came out as gay in 2005. (One of his long-term relationships was with Anthony Perkins of Psycho fame, after they met at the Chateau Marmont.)

KY Jelly has been around since the early 1900s (!). Here’s some of the vintage packaging. We’ll just assume Mickey was distracted and didn’t look too closely at the tube (or thought it was pretentiously packaged hipster lube; thanks for that idea, Deanna!).

Mickey calls Davie “Nurse Ratched” as a reference to One Flew Over the Cuckoo’s Nest; the actress who played her in the original movie, Louise Fletcher, played Frank’s mother in season 2 of Shameless.

Nerve pills: These are fictionalized (I don’t know how well they worked or what they tasted like; probably not nice!) but they’re based on Carter’s Little Nervine Pills, the active ingredient of which was extract of hyoscyamus, which (if my Googling is correct) is henbane. Henbane is quite toxic and can cause hallucinations. It was commonly associated with witchcraft, since ointment made with it could cause people to see things and feel like they were flying. Never change, early 20th century medicine.

Another one of the compounds in henbane is scopolamine, which can be used to treat motion sickness. This worked well for my purposes because I had decided that the sickness Ian and Mickey experience when they stay in the wrong time is a cousin to motion sickness (if traveling through space too fast can make you feel sick, why not traveling through time?).

The concept of quantum entanglement is the other one in my mind when I think about what “connects” them each to their own time, but don’t ask me any follow-up questions on that, because honestly I’m not great at physics and I don’t totally understand it. Storytelling-wise, I just like the idea of things being connected to each other on a submolecular level. I refer to this in Two of Your Earth Minutes, as well, for the same reason.

Mickey also makes a reference to the idea of the observer effect. (Lotta quantum mechanics in this dang ghost story!!)

The new movie Ian is going to audition for is A Woman of Paris, directed by Charlie Chaplin.

I think he would have gotten it, don't you?

[moon-fics]

Horror Night- TASM!Peter Parker

A/n: ok so the Rooster fic is gonna take a bit longer bc it's a series now 😭 Anyway enjoy Peter Parker! (Gif not mine)

Summary: Peter has spent the whole week convincing you to go to a Halloween horror night and you finally agree!

Warning: Swears, Spider!GN!Reader, mentions of fake blood, some slight angst but not enough to hurt!

"Pete, I'm not going to the horror night!" You grumble, sketching down lecture notes in your notebook. You have an exam coming up next week and need all the notes you can get. You've seen the photos Pete sent you from the advertising photo and it looks intense. "Why not? I promise it'll be fun!" He whispers, leaning away from his desk towards you. He's a fire hazard with how far he's leaning into the aisle. "Because we have to study! I don't want to fail this class!" You huff, noting that he doesn't even have a pencil out let alone his notebook. Peter isn't one to take notes during class if he understands the lesson, which is often. You hate how intelligent he is without even trying, but you are just as accomplished. "Y/n, you've been studying this whole week without any breaks! If you don't know the criteria by now I think you're doomed." He jokes, straightening back into his seat. "Plus, the event will be huge! We'd be doing the city a favor by showing up to keep people safe in case of an emergency!" He plays the logical card and his argument makes sense. A lot of people will be at the event and having two undercover superheroes there is better than none. ""Pete, I'm not going to the horror night!" You grumble, sketching down lecture notes in your notebook. You have an exam coming up next week and need all the notes you can get. You've seen the photos Pete sent you from the advertising photo and it looks intense. "Why not? I promise it'll be fun!" He whispers, leaning away from his desk towards you. He's a fire hazard with how far he's leaning into the aisle. "Because we have to study! I don't want to fail this class!" You huff, noting that he doesn't even have a pencil out let alone his notebook. Peter isn't one to take notes during class if he understands the lesson, which is often. You hate how intelligent he is without even trying, but you are just as accomplished. "Y/n, you've been studying this whole week without any breaks! If you don't know the criteria by now I think you're doomed." He jokes, straightening back into his seat. "Plus, the event will be huge! We'd be doing the city a favor by showing up to keep people safe in case of an emergency!" He plays the logical card and his argument makes sense. A lot of people will be at the event and having two undercover superheroes there is better than none. "Only if you pay for the food." You hum. You notice Peter's face light up with a bright smile. You were always going to agree to go, you just took the opportunity to get free food out of it.

----

You stare out the window of Peter's car, watching as the sun sets. You've been on the road for an hour due to traffic but you're finally almost at the entrance. You can see the searchlights and the large arch of the parking lot entrance. There are scare actors around the entrance spooking people who walk by.

Peter's excitement radiates off of him and you can't help but feel the same. He's been hyping tonight up all week and after the third mention of it during a lecture, you decided you'd agree to join him later. You enjoyed tormenting Peter with constant 'maybe's and 'I'll think about it'. You started saving up pretty fast, luckily you already had enough money to buy a ticket.

"Are you sure about this, Pete? Looks pretty scary." You tease as he drives through the entrance into the parking lot. You scan the taken spots noticing a few people in tears or obviously frightened. Either New York has many scaredy cats or this carnival is actually traumatizing. "Y/n when will you trust me with finding fun things to do? You always second-guess my plans!" He whines and you raise an eyebrow at him. "Oh, you mean the plans that usually end in us fighting crime?" You hum. Peter rolls his eyes, but he knows you're right. Every time Peter plans a fun day, he drags you to a fight against criminals. The last time you let him choose what to do you had ended up fighting half the mob. "Y/n, I promise this will be a great night! We won't even need our suits." He points to the duffle bag in the back seat. You decide to give him the benefit of the doubt.

----

The night has been going perfectly in your opinion. You found yourself actually enjoying the scares and screams surrounding you. You can't explain why the sight of fake murderers chasing visitors around relieves you, maybe because you can be chased by someone holding a chainsaw without the need to suit up. You felt normal and you assume Peter has the same feeling.

He has an awe-struck look on his face while passing through the park. He's always been a fan of spooky-related things and this place is horrifying. You're glad he got you to come with.

"Are you hungry?" Peter suddenly asks you, pointing towards a food stand. You notice the menu matches the theme of the carnival. The blood-covered corndog catches your eye along with swam water soda. "Yeah, I could grab a snack, you?" You're already walking towards the counter to order. Peter takes a moment to look over the menu, obviously loving the options. You place your order and quickly pay, stepping aside so Peter could do the same. He orders the haunted hotdog and slime smoothie. "We should go to the haunted forest section next!" You suggest. "Only if we go to the criminal cave! I heard they have The Lizard!" He chuckles. The cook places your food on the counter and you grab Peter's for him, handing it to him carefully. "Like the actual Lizard?" You ask, realizing how stupid of a question it is. "Oh yeah, Ryker's definitely handed over a mad scientist lizard man to a carnival with fake chains everywhere!" He smirks and you smack his free arm lightly. "Well excuse me for wanting to make sure leaving the suits in the car was a good idea!" You huff. You take a bit of your corndog, seeing that the 'blood' is just ketchup. The drink is just a regular soda which you're glad about because you doubt you'd enjoy actual swamp water.

You're about to take another bite when your spider senses go off. It's barely noticeable but the hair on your arms rises and your brain starts to figure out what's wrong. Peter notices your body tense up, your eyes darting around to see if there is trouble. Before either of you can say anything a scare actor pops out from behind the food cart with a menacing grin. He gets in your face for a split second before running off again. You didn't even flinch, you couldn't. Even when your senses have gone away you can't help but feel dread. You spent the whole night without using your powers and now you're reminded that after tonight you'll return to being a secret hero.

"Y/n? Are you good?" Peter waves his hand in front of your face catching your attention. You blink a few times to come back into reality. "Yeah, sorry." You lower your voice, looking down at your corndog, "This corndog was so good it sent me into another world!" You lie, trying to lighten the mood. Peter shakes his head, catching on quickly. "I felt it too." He assures you. Your heart skips a beat and your body relaxes. "But we're fine! The closest we'll get to danger here is someone scraping their leg while running away from an axe murderer!" He scarfs down his dog and tosses the wrapper in the trash. You finish your corndog as fast as you can and throw out your trash as well. "I know, it just reminded me I'm not like everyone else here." You sigh. You try to keep your voice as low as possible, knowing he can hear you through the loud music and screams. "Of course we are! We're two college students having the times of our lives!" He wraps an arm around you with a huge smile. Your face heats up at the contact but the lack of light won't make it noticeable.

----

Just as planned you and Peter head over to the haunted forest. You walk through the foggy path surrounded by trees. Every once in a while you'll see a blood-covered fairy or an animatronic wolf.

"This is so easy! A literal walk in the park!" You joke and Peter shakes his head. "If you say that the actors will target your ass!" He warns but you don't listen. You turn a corner and notice two paths in front of you. One is taken over by fog while the other is too dark to see into. You decide to play a trick on Peter. "Hey, Pete there's a fake Kingpin behind you!" You yell and Peter spins on his heel. "Holy shit I have to see that!" Right as his back is turned to you you take off through the foggy path, disappearing from his view. You know he'll eventually track you down with his senses but for now, you keep running. You hear your name being called faintly so you stop and decide to wait.

You glance around and see a bench near you, right next to a rotting tree. You plant yourself onto the bench and decide to wait for Peter just in case he can't find you.

A long time passes before you begin to worry. You've watched a few people pass by you but none were Peter. You sigh, knowing there's only one thing you have to do.

You cup your mouth and scream out his name as loud as possible. If he's looking for you he'll be able to hear you call him and come find you. You wait a few seconds before screaming again, knowing no one else would be able to hear you over the blasting music and sound effects.

Within a few minutes, your senses let you know he's nearby. You assume he'll run down the path, but instead, he drops down onto the ground before you. You're taken aback, looking up to see lines of web across various items.

"You swung over here?!" You shriek and Peter rolls his eyes. "Someone could have seen you!" "I wouldn't have had to if you didn't run off! You had me searching half the park to find you!" He grumbles, rubbing a hand over his face. He's clearly out of breath and his fluffy hair is disheveled. Without thinking you start to fix it gently. "I didn't think you'd take so long to find me!" You finish fixing his hair and slowly pull away. Your eyes land on his face to see his lips slightly parted and his eyes locked on you. "I promise to stick by your side until the end of the night from now on!" You hold out your pinky for him to shake and he does so with a fake frown. "Can we go to the criminal cave now?" He whines. "Of course, lead the way!"

----

The criminal cave holds up to its name. You see the villains and bad guys you've put away over the years with Peter everywhere you look. You can't help but correct some of the actor's costumes and make fun of the props. For example, Electro's actor didn't have the correct color contacts, they were yellow instead of blue.

When you finally reach The Lizard you notice it's a really well-built animatronic. You couldn't pinpoint anything wrong with it and you were impressed.

"Looks way too real for me!" Peter shudders before walking away. You quickly follow him to the next villain. You can't help but think about the day you and Peter caught Conners. It took every ounce of energy between the two of you but you eventually caught him.

"He was way more scaley in person, I think he was shedding while fighting us!" You laugh, "Can you imagine the shed he would have left behind?" "I would rather not have that image in my head, thank you!" He groans.

----

The night was coming to a close and your feet were killing you. The longest you've been on your feet like this was during an all-night patrol. Peter, however, still looked energized and filled with pep.

You were walking to the car when your legs began to hurt too much to walk. You can only assume it's because you were on patrol the night before, you're out of energy completely. Without hesitation, Peter scoops you up and carries you to the car.

"My hero!" You fake swoon. Peter cackles while you bat your eyes at him with your cupped hands on the side of your face. You were pulling the best damsel-in-distress look you could. "We both you you could knock me out in a second if you wanted to." He quips. He's not wrong, you're extremely strong but right now you're too tired to even walk. "Now, why would I want to knock out such a cute man?" You poke his chest playfully. You instantly notice his heartbreak quickening and his body temperature increasing. You know this feeling, you've had it before, but you can't understand why. There's no way Peter could possibly be reacting to what you said. That is until you see his expression. It's soft, and content.

You carefully place a hand on his cheek, leaning up to place a kiss on it. He almost drops you from surprise but swiftly recovers. He's a stuttering mess now, his face bright red. He's trying to form a sentence probably to ask why you did that.

"Thank you for an amazing night, Spidey." You shut your eyes, leaning your head into his neck. You assume that's enough for him, he goes silent but his heart doesn't stop pounding. "For you, I'd do anything to see you smile like you did tonight."

[floralegia]

4, 19, 27, 29 for the writing ask game! 💜💖

EEEEE thank you!!

4. How many WIPs do you have right now?

OH GREAT SO YOU'RE COMING FOR MY HEAD RIGHT FROM THE START

Well, I counted 29 for this post, but as I noted there that doesn't include the plot bunnies chilling in my ideas doc (aka The List™) or either of the two bingo cards I currently have out, which between them have I want to say 32 prompts? So, you know. :'''')

19. Give us a small teaser from one of your WIPs.

There's important stuff being said, probably, but the only thought Pete's brain is capable of processing right now is this one: Oh my God, he's such a fucking DILF.

Well, okay, that's not exactly true, because as soon as that thought slides through his psyche, it butts right up against the answering one that shouts Patrick! That fucking DILF is fucking PATRICK!, and then he gets sort of stuck in that loop for a little while, until at last the DILF thing overpowers the shrieking confusion of the fact that up until a couple of minutes ago, he'd only known Patrick Stump as a sort of sweaty, scowl-y, angel-voiced teenager, and the whole thing starts over again with the urge to drool dramatically over the glasses and the beard and the fucking build of him, Jesus fucking Christ.

Suffice to say, it's been a challenging few minutes.

27. Is there a fic you were nervous to post/share? Why?

There have been a couple of notable ones in recent memory, one that I won't name because I ended up posting it on a sock account and then this one. In both cases, I was essentially scared of being harassed over the content of the fics; the unnamed fic contains a couple of noncon scenes, and obviously the linked fic is Waycest, lol. Both have been received pretty well so far (touch wood), so, I mean, I'm definitely building up confidence, I think? I very strongly believe in the idea of writing whatever and who cares what people think, but also I am very small and very frightened lol. It's a whole thing.

29. Share a bit from a fic you’ll never post OR from a scene that was cut from an already posted fic. (If you don’t have either, just share a random fic idea you have that you don’t plan on getting to.)

Random fic idea, under the cut because it's a bit long: P2 RHPS AU feat. Bandom At Large!

Due to watching the video of Patrick's performance of "I Can Make You A Man" for the 2020 RHPS charity livestream--which, oh my God, by the way--I was struck by the idea of a Rocky Horror AU. To be clear, I don't mean an AU based on the movie the Rocky Horror Picture Show, I mean an AU about the boys putting on the Rocky Horror Picture show. So really, I suppose, it's a college community theater AU of some kind, but it's focused around RHPS. Not that I've been involved in a production myself, other than at CTY, I suppose, but having done community theater generally and attended RHPS productions, I think I can make a fair attempt.

So, anyway. Pete is running the thing--whole thing is his idea, he's the director, etc. I feel like this is likely not the first year, and in fact Pete likely inherited the production from an upperclassman. But they had a lot of people graduate last year, and they're having trouble backfilling those roles, so in addition to directing he's reprising his role as Rocky. They're advertising hard for musicians, too, because Pete--being a go big or go home kind of guy--ALSO wants to perform with a live band this year and do a proper Rocky Horror Show production, rather than perform in front of the film as they've typically done. That's how Patrick gets involved: he shows up to inquire about playing in the pit, because he's always trying to pick up odd musical jobs here and there to pay for school, and in true Fall Out Boy fashion he ends up singing a little bit and Pete's like, wait, no, holy fuck, sing this, throws the book at him, Patrick sings a bit of one of Frank's lines, and that's all she wrote. They've been having a particular amount of trouble casting Frank, and Pete decides Patrick is perfect for the role, which kind of baffles everyone else, especially Patrick, but Pete's like... distractingly pretty, so against his own better judgement Patrick agrees.

Beyond that, I'm not sure what the actual, like, plot would be. I think Patrick has a passing familiarity with RHPS but definitely not intimate knowledge, so partially he has to get up to speed. Partially, too, he has to overcome his stage fright and particularly his aversion to appearing on stage in front of a bunch of strangers while wearing sexy outfits and doing a lot of slutty slutty things, so there's that, but idk if that's a "plot" per se. There's also the implication/background of the production being sort of scrappy, but I don't know that that's a "plot" either, really. Hmmm.

Well, in the meantime, other notes that I had in my head include Gabe Saporta as Brad because I think that's really funny given his everything; Joe and Andy are definitely involved, I think with Joe playing Meatloaf and Andy drumming, or maybe Andy's Meatloaf and Joe is Riff Raff???? General DCD2/bandom cast... Uhhh, Ray should definitely be in the band/pit, Hayley Williams and Gerard are Magenta and Columbia (not sure which is which--I like Gerard as a sexy maid, so maybe he's Magenta???), and then that leaves, what, the criminologist??? Oh, and Janet, obviously. Maybe Greta from the Hush Sound is Janet? Or Vicky-T, that would make a lot of sense. Frank is either in the pit or he's the stage manager or something. Or crew. He kind of has insane stage crew energy. Mikey is... there. Possibly pit as well. Possibly just hanging around and the joke is everyone's always like, Mikey what the fuck are you doing here???? and he just shrugs and the answer is that he tends to get dragged into things Gerard's involved in and this is no different, but really he's just hanging around.

[fynnsmarvelrecs]

So this is my first attempt at a Rec list! It is WinterIron and I think I’ve got a decent mix of short and long fics, fluff and angst, sad and happy. Please bear (Bare?) with me if the formatting on this list is weird, this is my first time posting anything like this. A lot is under the cut so I don't clog peoples feeds.

Truth Serum Doesn't Discriminate

 By: SummerRoses0612

Word Count:   8,809

Great if you like emotionally dense and harder topic fics. MIND THE TAGS!!!!!

The Avengers have never been a family, no matter what they advertise to the world. What happens when the truth isn't anything like it seems? Or The one where Tony Stark gets drugged with truth serum and the Avengers realize they never even cared to look behind the masks the engineer wore.

Talk Dirty To Me

Finely Honed (jaqen_hgar)

Word Count:  2,255

Such a fun fic! its lighthearted but not so far into crack that you can’t take it seriously 

Imagine Bucky is smitten with Tony at first sight but Tony's not single. Bucky copes by telling Natasha about all the dirty things he wants to do to Tony in Russian. After Tony's dumped, Bucky still talks about him in Russian only now it's half dirty and half romantic. Natasha finally gets fed up with the morons and says something to Tony in Russian, who replies back (in front of Bucky), because oops, he's fluent and understood all the conversations before. AND Bucky and Natasha talking in Russian about how much Bucky loooves Tony without realizing that Tony speaks Russian as well. Being the kind of person he was now, Bucky had crossed happy endings, fairness, and a whole mess of other things off of his list of beliefs since HYDRA got their hooks in him. Shoving the disappointment down wasn’t even that hard. He’d had plenty of practice. It was just… “What a shame,” he sighed in Russian as Tony walked past, giving them a wave over his shoulder as he headed into the kitchen. “The things I would do to that ass.”

speak my language

imposterhuman

Word Count:  2,181

I’ve got a thing for polygot Tony fics and you can strip that out of my cold dead hands lol. Also oblivious Buck is always a plus

5 times tony pretended not to understand bucky + 1 time bucky realized it ft. pining in foreign languages

Cuddle Duty

Finely Honed (jaqen_hgar)

Word Count:  3,126

This is so fluffy and full of pining but not angsty enough to be a hard read! Such a good quick feel good fic to read!

Sleep-deprived Tony is a cuddle monster that glomps onto the first person he finds. Bucky has a crush on Tony and tries to always make sure he is the first person sleep-deprived Tony finds, thinking a cuddle session is the only time he'll get to have the genius in his arms. The one thing no one had felt the need to warn him about was also the only thing for which he’d have actually appreciated a heads up. Tony liked to cuddle. Looking at him, you wouldn’t have pegged him as the cuddly type. Nothing about him looked cuddly. He wouldn’t let people hand him stuff, even with his improved mood he hung back half the time, as if he wasn’t part of the team. The other half he got so in your face some of them might have missed the hanging back. Nothing prepared him for the sight of a zombie-like Tony staggering into the common area and latching onto Clint (of all people!) like a limpet.

Bad Days

NotEvenCloseToStraight

Word Count:  1,975

This is so cute and I love fics that personify the Winter Soldier as dfferent fRom Bucky.

Prompt: Bucky likes Tony, but is too scared to tell him. What he doesn't know is that every time he has a "winter soldier" moment, he is constantly protecting tony and not letting anyone near him, so tony already knows that Bucky likes him ("genius, remember?"). Bucky finally gets up the courage to talk to Tony, only for Tony to tell him what's been going on and he's been waiting for Bucky to be comfortable enough to actually tell him. Happy ending! I've been on a winter soldier binge (thanks to the alpha WS you did!!) and I just love the thought of Ws being triggered in the tower and while everyone is creating a perimeter etc Tony walks in sleep deprived and due to how adorable he looks Ws aggressively cuddles and protects this sleepy cuteness! ******** A quick fic of Tony enjoying how beefy Bucky is ********* Bucky panicking bc he can feel the WS creeping in & the team being shocked at how the WS in basically in love with Tony & how he is protective of him

Four Strings and Second Chances

Vashoth

Word Count:  35,439

This is legitimately one of the best WinterIron fics I’ve ever read and I want the entirety of it engraved on my gravestone lol

It was reluctance to let one of his finest inventions ever out of his grasp that made him take a couple days over a week to send the arm to Pepper’s office. But all things considered, Tony figured that sending finest prosthetic that had ever come into existence--literally grasping an olive branch--was one of the classiest gifts he’d ever given. He’d included a note and everything. ‘Barnes, Can help with installation. Or not. Up to you. --Stark'

Such Sweet Revenge

ali_aliska

Word Count:  167,714

I think this might be the best fic I’ve read to date to be honest with you. Its so so good!

When the Rogues are back in the States after being pardoned, the New Avengers want nothing to do with them and as far as Tony is concerned, if he never speaks to them again, it'll be too soon. After all, he didn't spend the last year putting himself (and his family) back together only for his former co-workers to ruin all of his hard work. But then he gets a hand-written letter from the Winter Soldier himself, apologizing for the events that transpired and an off-handed comment from Rhodey about Rogers failing to take care of an obviously miserable Bucky Barnes sets in motion Tony's new, oh-so-evil plan to get some payback. After all, what better revenge than to steal the Winter Soldier away from his best friend? The only problem: Tony sucks at being vengeful, but apparently he's an expert at inadvertently falling in love.

So that’s It for now. Make sure to leave your authors Kudos and comments! If anyone has any pairings they want to see, suggestions on improving formatting, or anything else let me know. :) Until Next Time, Fynn.

[poledancingdinos]

You’ve Got Me Hooked - Chapter 5

Pairing: Captain Syverson x OFC (Riley McKenzie)

Word count: 2.5k

Warnings: Sex work, stripper, OnlyFans, Mentioned Online Harassment

Catch up: Series Masterlist

Taglist: @amberangel112 @utterlyhopeful-fics @marantha @kebabgirl67 @littleone65 @omgkatinka @luclittlepond @marytudorbrandon @foxyjwls007  @peaches1958 @identity2212  @summersong69​ @liecastillo @islacharlotte​

A/N: If you want to be added or removed from my taglist, let me know!

Please consider giving me a reblog because dumblr is censoring these posts so badly that I struggle to find my own chapters on my blog.

Masterlist

Sy

As soon as my boss got to the garage this morning, I asked him about hiring Riley to help with advertising. He’s known me my whole life so when I told him I knew someone willing to help us out, he didn’t ask for more information, he just took down her number. He opened this small shop a few years before I was born and I know it would be devastating for him to have to close it down. 

I don't know much about running a business. Sure, I can run a team and keep track of costs and inventory, but I didn't have to deal with suppliers, banks and customers. I sure as hell can't manage a web page or anything like that.

After I found out about Riley, I checked out "Razzy's" profiles. Not her Onlyfans — that is a line I'm determined not to cross — but I looked at her TikTok and her Instagram. She's good at what she does. She has a big follower count by my uneducated standards and lots of likes and comments. I also made the mistake of reading some of the things people said about her and had to close the app before I did something stupid like march into her room and confiscate her laptop and her phone.

Some people just say how hot they think she is. Lots of them share all the fucked up shit they want to do to her. I’m no saint, I like it rough as much as the next guy, but I don’t plaster my desires across the Internet. Those weren’t the bad ones though. They were fucking nice compared to what I saw next.

I scrolled through dozens of comments from other girls calling her a skank or guys saying how she should be ashamed to do those kinds of things for money. So many people were lashing out at her from completely anonymous profiles, each one worse than the last. How does she manage to read that every day? No wonder that poor girl doesn’t feel safe enough to wear anything other than pants and hoodies in front of me.

Despite all that, I have to say, I can see her talent and skill showing even if it has nothing to do with the typical corporate bullshit. The colors and tones of the videos are consistent throughout the posts and they always compliment that bright pink hair that I assume is a wig since Riley's blond locks don’t look like they’ve ever been colored.

I text Riley a quick heads-up to expect a call then put my phone back in my locker. Aika is asleep under a nearby table, knowing well enough to stay away from the lifts and other tools and machinery. She’s content just being near me and the loud noises are nothing compared to the sound of bombs and gunfire she was trained to endure.

I’m the first one here every morning. Sometimes I go to the gym first but I still make it in by 8 am to open up. More often than not, I wrap up whatever job the other guys don’t quite finish or I do the final checks before returning a car to a customer.

My boss, Don, handles all the bookkeeping and most of the administrative work with the help of his wife since his arthritis made him incapable of working on the cars. They had a pretty good business going for the best part of the last forty years until all the larger chains started undercutting his prices. A few of the other mechanics had to leave and find better paying jobs elsewhere because there wasn’t enough work here to go around.

It doesn’t help business that the building is falling apart on the outside. The parking lot is in such dire need of being repaved that I’ve become an expert at maneuvering cars around the pot holes and deep cracks. It looks nothing like it did back before I enlisted.

It used to be that the garage ran off word-of-mouth alone with most of the locals adopting the garage because it was just that — local. But now, no one could blame customers for taking their business somewhere cheaper or somewhere they deem more reliable even if it is a half hour drive away from town. A lot of the old clientele have either retired or moved away since the garage was started, meaning there is no inherent loyalty from the townspeople. It’s just how things work these days.

I’m busy doing an oil change when I hear a car pull into the lot. In fact, I heard it approaching from the main road long before it ever reached the turn off. That car sounds like a bunch of bolts in a garbage disposal even over the loud music and the various power tools the other guys are using.

I roll out from under the car, expecting to greet a potential customer but instead I’m surprised to see Riley stepping out of the vehicle. I’ve noticed before that her car doesn’t look in great shape but I always assumed it was mostly aesthetic. If I had realized how bad it is I would’ve offered to take a look at it a long time ago.

I exit through the open workshop door with Aika trailing close behind. As soon as she sees her approaching, a wide smile spreads over Riley’s face. She bends down, burying both hands in Aika’s fur.

“Hey, sweet girl.”

“I take it Don called ya?”

“He did.” Riley stands, catching my gaze but as soon as she does, she turns her eyes towards the ground. She tries to play it off by wiping the dust from the knees but I know that she is just that shy.

She isn’t wearing her typical sweatshirt and leggings, instead opting for a cream blouse and fitted black pants that show off her beautiful figure. She looks every bit the professional put together woman I know she strives to be. She obviously put some thought into what she wore, because it’s not so fancy that she’d appear stuck up to a bunch of guys literally covered from head to toe in oil and grease on a day to day basis. It’s perfect.

"I'll show you to the office,” I say, pointing over my shoulder.

I lead Riley inside, being mindful not to get grease on anything, and knock on Don's door frame. The door was taken off its hinges long before I started working here. Part of the reason is so he can keep an eye on the work floor and be available if we need him. The other half of it is because he makes sure to say "hi" to every person that comes in even if they don't need his help.

"Hey boss, Riley's here to see ya."

"Miss McKenzie, how wonderful to meet you." He stands, shaking Riley's hand.

"The pleasure is mine, Sir."

"Oh, none of that, call me Don. Please, sit."

I take that as my cue to leave, going back to my work. I glance towards the office every so often and every time, Riley has a smile on her face. She takes notes of whatever Don is saying, nodding along.

It's funny how different this Riley is to the girl I've come to know. Instead of making herself as small as possible, she's sitting straight with her head up and shoulders back, meeting Don's gaze as they talk over their ideas.

Over an hour later, she stands and shakes Don's hand again. She walks out through the office door and makes her way to her car with a small wave my way.

When my day is over, I go to the office to drop off my day's paperwork then poke my head in to say goodbye to Don.

"I'm headin' out."

Don lifts his head from the stack of invoices he's reviewing.

"Alright, Son, thank you."

I don't want to meddle but I can't help myself from asking about how the meeting went.

"So, umm, what didja think of Riley?" 

He crosses his arms over the desk, leaning closer.

"Oh she is just lovely, Sy. Smart and beautiful, you've got yourself a real catch there."

Something in my chest warms at the praise but I have to remind myself that she is not mine to be proud of and never will be. When Sam said she filmed videos with other girls I figured he was just making it up to try and catch my interest but I’d seen enough on “Razzy’s” profiles to know he’d been telling the truth.

"Actually, we're just friends. Barely know her if I'm being honest."

Don's eyes go wide. "My apologies, I thought she said something about you two living together."

I guess he would have assumed that. Not many people in his day believed in living together out of wedlock so us living as roommates must be strange.

"We do. But we didn't know each other before I moved in. We both know I don't make enough to pay for my own place right now and there aren't a lot of men my age looking for roommates."

Like that, any remnants of a smile is completely wiped from Don's face. "I know, Sy, but I really can't —"

I stop him immediately because I have no intention of trying to guilt him into paying me more.

"I didn't mean it like that, Don. I just meant sharing with Riley might not be a conventional choice but it works out well for the both of us."

He nods in understanding.

"That car of hers sounds like a real piece of work."

"You can say that again," I say, sinking into the chair opposite him. This is shaping up to be a long conversation so I might as well get comfortable.

"She's refusing to let me pay for her work until she has proof that it helped us bring in more business."

I scoff, shaking my head. "That sounds like her alright."

She rarely stands up for herself but if ya offer to pay something of hers, she gets as stubborn as a mule.

"She also said the money would be better invested elsewhere."

"I doubt gettin' the the lot paved costs the same as a couple hours of her time."

"No, you're right about that." He pauses, looking down at the invoices on his desk. He pulls open the bottom drawer of his desk, taking out two glasses and a bottle of something that looks an awful lot like whiskey. He pours us both a generous amount and slides mine across the desk. "But if she comes back after crunching the numbers and tells me what I've been thinking for a while, I'll take out a second mortgage on the house."

"What?" Now I know why he pulled out the liquor. "No, I'm not lettin' ya do that Don."

The last thing any man his age needs is another loan to pay off. If he's even mentioning it to me it means he's already talked it over with his wife and that she’s agreed. He’s serious about this.

"If it means saving this place and keeping it going then, yes, I am. Your father and I worked too damn hard on this place to see it go down. I don't have any kids of my own but as far as I'm concerned, half of this place is yours and you deserve to have yourself a stable income to provide for your own family some day."

His words cause my throat to tighten up and I have to swallow down a gulp of whiskey before I can respond.

"Well, just know that I will be by your side every step even if we do have to shut this place down."

He takes a sip of his own drink.

"You're a good man, Sy. Your daddy would be proud."

Fuck, this has really turned into a liquor kind of conversation. I simply nod, looking over his shoulder at the framed picture on the wall behind him. My pop and a much younger Don smile back at me, my pregnant mama on one side and Charlotte, Don's wife, laughing brightly on the other. 

"I'll see ya tomorrow, Don."

“Get home safe.”

Those are always Don’s parting words. I never took them seriously until the first time I shipped out. Then they got a whole new meaning after my parents were killed in that car wreck.

I shoot the remaining whiskey from my rocks glass, focusing on the slight burn down the back of my throat then get to my feet. “Will do, Don.”

For the second day in a row, Riley is at the island when I get home. She has a set of colored pencils spread out around her computer and sheets of paper strewn from one end of the counter to the other.

“You know, Don doesn't expect you to get back to him tomorrow.”

She doesn’t look up or move from her spot. She just keeps coloring with her head tilted to the side and worrying her bottom lip between her teeth.

“I know, but I want to brainstorm while the ideas are still fresh.”

Fuck, she is adorable. All I want is to go up behind her and wrap my arms around her waist. I’d rest my chin over her head and look at all the ideas she’s put on paper. I’d tell her how much it means to me that she’s doing this for my godfather.

“Have ya eaten?”

“I have stew simmering on the stove. Should be ready in about an hour. I got bread from the bakery on the way home and —” Her sentence is cut off when her eyes land on me. “Sy, why are you green?”

“Aika and I went to the park.”

She gives me one of those cute little giggles that she always hides by putting her hand over her mouth or making her hair fall in front of her face.

“You know, normally, the dog is supposed to be the one rolling in the grass.”

I finally get my boots off and step further into the apartment. “Where’s the fun in that?”

She shakes her head at me and waves me off. “Alright, shoo. You’re trailing grass and mud everywhere and in all honesty, I can smell you from here.”

I give her a mock salute. “Yes ma’am. I’ll let ya get back to work.”

I take my shirt off, leaving it inside out in an attempt to keep at least some of the dirt contained. Riley immediately turns away but not before I spot how her eyes trail over my chest. Maybe she isn't completely uninterested after all.

Chapter 6

[antigonewinchester]

ooh share something about hesitation or triptych? <3

I will self-indulgently to do both <3

Hesitation but IC is inspired by a Destiel fic called, surprise surprise, Hesitation, written by apokteino, who I think was a fairly prominent fic writer back in the day? She had a series of dark Destiel fics, including Hesitation, the Bone series, the When series, and most infamously With Understanding. I find her work interesting intellectually, in her focus on exploring questions around sexual violence, relationships formed under duress, and the complexities of perpetrators & victims & their dynamics, but it feels like she maps her ideas onto SPN rather than centering canon characterizations or dynamics (at least in my read of the show/characters).

So, I decided to try my hand at a fic with the same premise but more in line with canon, particularly taking into account Cas's control/power over Dean in S4 (and which I don't feel is negated just because of Cas's sexual inexperience, altho it does add some complexity) and Dean's full experience in Hell. Part 1 is from Dean’s POV and Part 2, which I’m currently working on, is from Cas’s:

“You told me Dean wanted to have sex with me. He did, and then he didn’t.” Zachariah and he are sitting at a bar in New York, the city. It’s night, but he can’t see any stars, only the glowing of offices and apartments and advertisements against the sky. One large, flashing sign reads: Open Happiness. The moon is a cut of pure white. The humans around them talk and whisper, blissfully ignorant of the angels and the war they’re fighting to protect them. Their breath forms clouds that rise to disappear into the dark. All are dressed in what he believes are fancy clothes, long flowing red fabrics and unwrinkled suits of black, but he’s no longer sure how much he knows about humanity. Zachariah shrugs. “Humans say they want one thing, then do another, and Dean Winchester is no exception. This is why they need Heaven’s hand, Castiel.” The woman sitting to his left laughs. The man she’s talking with has taken her palm and put it up against his. Her fingernails had been carefully painted in stripes of white and black.

Triptych is sort of the opposite end of the spectrum, in that it’s my attempt at a Dean/Jack fic after looking on AO3 and finding... 2 decent fics of the whole bunch.

I started out as just wanting to do Dean/Jack during S14, but its slowly turned into Dean/Jack in the aftermath of Dean/John, probably in part 'cause I started writing it in the midst of Utena rewatch, which all about memories & cycles & incest & eternity (and then when I got to the part of S14 where Dean suggested locking himself in a coffin for eternity to save the world...) I was also struck by a post of someone discussing a common Utena interpretation that one character didn't actually want to sleep with her brother, but the poster asked if she did, would that desire negate any harm? Does wanting something "bad" mean you can't be hurt by it? If a relationship was both meaningful & hurts you, how do those elements go together?

Got a bit stalled out on this one because Holy Shit the emotional complexities here, and I want to handle it respectfully? Not be gauche? My plan is to have it all lead up to 14x20 and Thee Dean Jack Moment, re-contextualizing it within the scope of my fic, but I'm still figuring out what it all... adds up to, I suppose. (Also that I'm bad at writing character being mean, and Dean has to be mean in this fic, at least for parts of it!)

Heaven turned out to be the world’s best movie night: his favorite memories playing over and over and over again. The road trip where Sam introduced him to Harry Potter and Dean taught him how to read a paper map. He could rewind and play through his favorite five minutes as many times as he wanted. He could make everything faster or slower, which was funny for a little while, but he stopped after it got weird, like when he repeated a word too much and suddenly something would change and it wouldn’t be a real word anymore, just meaningless sounds. He could change from memory to memory in an instant, if he really wanted, but mostly he liked to let them play out before he moved onto another. And once he got to end, it was back to the beginning: a conversation trailed off or a lesson finished and then he was back at the start, to Cas’s reassuring smile, telling him about mistakes and guilt and forgiveness, or Sam’s bright concern, telling him how to take a punch, or Dean’s warm hand on his back, telling him where north was. The one thing he couldn’t do was imagine anything new. He tried, at first, in the memory of that day with Dean, how their conversation at the river could have gone—Dean’s voice low as he’d whispered, “Come here,” and then—and then—but it never worked. Guiltily he’d moved onto other memories, and at least they were too the same: if he'd ordered a hot dog, all he could eat is a hot dog; if Sam and Dean had driven past the apple orchard on a hunt, there was no turning down the short dirt road to pick fruit instead.

[aurora-313]

You know that I love WH40K, I also grew-up with 80' action movies, love them and their testosterone macho-over -the top feel. I do not mind even zero female characters in my reading, movies etc, it depends.

But every time I criticize shonen someone jumps me and tells me it's for boys. AND? To stuff for boys should not have good their girl characters well written?

I know, it's not about that it's about the narrative contract, when you put in fighting women, and no one is making you, and you give them promising starts, then they are lucky if they can beat some fodder latter on, feels like a broken promise. Then the author says he's not good at writing females, even if people just ask why aren't they winning any battles, not why they don't talk about their feelings.

So if the mangaka don't use the ''it's for boys'' but ''I can't write women'' excuse now, why is the fandom using it? Boys literally asked for decades for Sakura to stop being trash in battle, and they were ignored. The target audience wanted her a useful fighter and not a primarely a healer, and still teenagers today are treated as if they want exactly want their grandparents wanted? It's insulting to boys. As a teacher I can confirm that even in non-occidental countries there are changes.

Make all the women healers, non-combatants, support fighters from the beginnig write them well, make it explicit that in universe they are important, just don't sell horse manure. It is ok if you have zero women on the front lines. Just don't make them go there and suck. Or maybe they are cautionary tells for girls to not even try, let the men do the protecting.

Not even in a war series everybody has to be a fighter to be important, but it has to be well-written. I actually appreciate that Orihime doesn't have a warrior's heart, like you said she and her feelings for Ichigo not being explored it's one of the biggest mistakes of Bleach.

Even newer manga that are lauded are victims of this trope.

Sure there are exception, but the big names, the ones that remain for decades like Dragon Ball, drop the ball on women.

tl;dr If you can't handle it, don't write women fighters.

If you can't write woman at all, something is seriously wrong with you as a writer. Improve. Fan-fic writers improve over time by practice and accepting constructive criticism. Is to much to ask from a professional?Are there no writing classes in Japan?

Sorry season 2 of JJK made me bitter. It's not that the girl of the main trio was killed is how she was killed, while a bitch that uses her little brother as a meat shield and maybe more escapes to fight another day.

I wish a shonen author had the balls to say in the prologue, that women in the setting are just not as good as men at using the magic or the tech of the setting, and explore the concept as he wants.

I am so tired when any complaint I bring is treated like I have a feminist agenda, that wants to ruin fun for other people. When all I want is consistent writing.

So authors of all kind, please don't false advertise your girls as being capable to climb the power cliff, if you don't plan to do it. I feel like when Rukia was on all promotional Bleach stuff as the deuteragonist, when she barely appears in the second part of the story.

I honestly don't have a lot to say in response to this semi-rant. Beyond that I agree with the whole 'I can't write women' or 'its for boys'.

I'm sorry, there are plenty of series I grew up with where I was specifically not the target demographic but they wrote magnificent woman characters anyway.

While I dislike a lot of his stories, I think George RR Martin put it best when it comes to writing women: "You know, I've always considered women to be people."

But to play devil's advocate: there's an element of culture clash here. Eastern countries are steeped in traditional roles. This isn't a bad thing. Those roles have inherent value when one takes a balanced approach to them (and frankly I think the West needs to dial its obsessive progressive attitudes back a LOT and return to those more traditional roots).

However that attitude does influence how many writers direct their characters. More often than not, female characters are plot devices.

In most manga, women tend to be plot devices. Even in Bleach, Rukia was a plot device. Thrice over:

To give Ichigo his powers at the start.

To be imprisoned and facing execution so Ichigo would rescue her.

To give Ichigo power AGAIN in the FB arc.

Orihime, another plot device. Kidnapped by Aizen for the sole purpose of playing on Ichigo's various neuroses to get him out of the way while Aizen invaded Karakura.

At the same time, this isn't exactly a universal problem. There's plenty of manga out there where its a predominantly female cast or have strong representation. Like with everything, it comes down to the writer and their style. Two mangas off the top of my head that treat their female cast extremely well are Claymore and Full Metal Alchemist. I'd give them a read if you have the time, I rather enjoyed them.

In regards to JJK season 2. I have to contest you on that one. Nobara's death makes sense, both contextually and thematically. Contextually, Nobara dies because she is both Mahito's natural enemy (like Yuji) and thus a priority target to eliminate, and because it reinforces the theme that acting selflessly in this world is violently, vehemently FIERCELY punished. Nobara selflessly went to aid Yuuji without knowing the full extent of her opponent's capabilities, got outfoxed and paid the price.

That debate of selfishness vs selflessness is a fundamental aspect of that world. Which is why Yuuji keeps getting crushed and ground to dust until he adopted the mentality of being a cog in the machine. The world itself has taken this boy who acted selflessly to save someone else (Megumi, by eating Sukuna's finger) and relentlessly tore him down over and again. His selflessness is punished. Like with Nanami and even Gojo to an extent, no matter the intent behind it, they suffered for their selflessness.

Mei Mei, a borderline narcissist, outright states 'the only value a person has to me is my paycheck'. Her using Ui Ui to escape and for other vile ends makes all of the sense in the world. In this selfish disgusting world, the most selfish and disgusting thrive. Sukuna, the most selfish of all, stands as king of that mountain.

So I have to say I'm not bothered by it. I'm merely annoyed that Gege doesn't outright state if she's dead or not. Is she dead? Is she braindead? Will she come back? Just COMMIT to one, please.

But back to Bleach - yeah, Rukia was the deuteragonist. And it pains me to see how she was shoved away in TYBW.

Bleach was built on Death and the Strawberry... then Kubo removed Death and "tried" to replace it with Beeeewbs, the Oedipus edition.

Although I wish someone would explain to me that out of all the beautiful men in her life, past and present, how the hell did Rukia end up marrying the dog? I've never once see Rukia look at Renji with a single ounce of the admiration, affection or love she's given to Ichigo, or Byakuya, or Kaien. No philia, storge or eros - nothing of that.

But that's a rant for another time.

[irregularcollapse]

just downloaded the epub of eiat and was reminded of how awesome and amazing you are as like. an Author, capital A. the whole construction is so masterful and i’m so grateful to have witnessed the whole thing build up to what it is. not just the masterful writing and obviously meticulous typeset, but the community of people who love this work. the final chapter can put on my birthday so i’m going to post my adoring comment sobbing about this fics end as soon as i have time to read. thank you forever and always for something that saw me every wednesday like a close and adoring friend through an incredibly tough period of my life!

omg my King

This is the most insanely kind comment, I barely even know what to address first. I guess the most important thing is thank you so much, and I am incredibly flattered and humbled that my writing was such a constant thing for you at a hard time! After all, that's why so many writers write---to share the feeling that writing gives to us.

I guess that hits on why I write fic and share it at all, actually. It's something you've mentioned here: that sense of community. I write to connect with people, to share stories, hopefully to entertain and bring people enjoyment. Getting responses from people like you is such a huge part of feeling part of something, of knowing that what I create means something.

The process of making EIAT was really helpful for me in a lot of ways. It truly cemented something that I've been thinking for a while, which is that traditional publishing just isn't the route I want to go down. I'm not interested in reaching a huge audience; I much prefer this sense of togetherness created when like-hearted people respond to and gather around a creative work.

I put in the effort that I do (and do insanely over-the-top things like learning typesetting, and teaching myself how to sort-of format a reflowable ePub) because I want what I make to be good for the people who find it. I want you all to know that it's for all of you, and myself, and anyone else who finds their way to what I make.

Writing is such a strange creative pursuit. It makes me think of something Miranda July said about film-making:

I thought moviemaking would only really become an artform if anyone could access it, the way anyone can paint or sing or write. Mediums don’t suffer from being available, they evolve. If movies always need a company behind them, they will never really be an art.

What I disagree with her about is, while it's true that writing is a highly accessible medium (it is low-cost, can be done by analogue or digital means, can even be dictated orally exactly as intended), that doesn't mean it's an accessible artform. The divide between amateur and professional is largely what seems to dictate whether someone is seen as a writer (hobbyist) or author (artist).

I dislike a lot of things about the publishing industry. I dislike that authors are increasingly being turned into brands. I dislike that books are being advertised on the basis of their building blocks instead of their execution. I dislike that a social media following is becoming a significant contributing factor to whether a writer's manuscript will get read. I dislike censorship being passed off as editing; I dislike the concept of book "trends;" I dislike that "representation" is becoming a marketing buzzword instead of a crucial storytelling consideration.

However, I love books. I love everything about them, from the conceptual to the physical, from the narrative to the object. What I realised, while working on EIAT, is that I don't need a publisher to be able to make them. In a super-pretentious summation of what I mean, I guess my intention is to reclaim books as an artform, and to demonstrate to anyone who finds my work that you can too.

That's why I've decided to do it all myself (with some necessary proofreading/editing help, hello M I love you sooooooo much), from the planning to the writing to the formatting to the binding. EIAT has been like a trial run of it all, and I can't tell you how creatively fulfilling it has been. I can't wait to actually start and finish work on my own bound copy---to hold this thing in my hands and know that I made it, completely, from the beginning to the end. It will be entirely my vision as I want it to be.

This has turned into a bit of a rambling reply but I sort of just wanted to explain that like. I am so incredibly stoked that you (and other readers like you!!) have enjoyed what I've done so much. I really only want to create lovely things for other people to enjoy, so knowing that I've done that is all I need <3 Thank you again, for this message. You've absolutely made my day!

[safyresky]

tscs episode 6

I.....what???

HOW DID THIS GET A SECOND SEASON.

Okay so like. That was the most anti-climactic climax I have ever seen in my life? And for what? Scott getting his character arc? While everyone else resets back to this is fine!!!! Buddy suddenly is GUCCI with being Santa? Carol is GUCCI with being Mrs Claus? Sandra is suddenly GUCCI with talking to animals? When the kids were panicking about it before and Carol was like "press x to doubt!"

It's just so dissatisfying and I've seen folks be like "it doesn't feel like the santa clause ):" and it really doesn't!!!!

Some other gripes I had with this thing:

WHY WOULD YOU KEEP THE TOY SOLDIERS. ASSEMBLED. BEHIND A LOCKED DOOR? DID THEY NOT DESTROY THEM ALL? WHY WOULD YOU KEEP THOSE?!?!?! WHY!

Scott upon meeting befana: who tf are u

Scott seeing her little teleport tornado: oh i know this

HOW. HOW DO YOU KNOW THIS IF YOU NEVER EVEN SAW??? BEFANA?? BEFORE LAST DECEMBER??????????

????????????

Carol/Mrs. Claus's "identity crisis". That was BARELY a crisis. I think I'm most upset about that--her with the Mrs Claus identity, Buddy/Cal with the anxiety over being the next Santa and not WANTING to do it, and Sandra with the witch powers/talking to animals crisis and suddenly being okay with it. I would have LOVED to see that growth! HENCE THE MEME

Scott: the kids don't have magic

Scott 5 episodes later: I KNEW YOU GUYS HAD MAGIC!!

THE FUCK YOU DID????

I can't deal with the inconsistencies I just can't y'all.

AND SIMON???

THE ADVERTISING BAIT WHERE IT'S LIKE "HEY THIS POC DUDE IS THE NEXT SANTA" AND THEN PSYCH, MANS THE VILLAIN/BAD GUY AND HE GETS DUSTED!"

THERE IS SO MUCH WRONG WITH THE WHOLE SIMON PLOT!

THIS WHOLE SERIES FEELS LIKE CHRISTMAS MANIFEST DESTINY OR SOME SHIT! I CAN'T EVEN DEAL!

HOW CAN I WRITE FIX IT FIC IN THESE CONDITIONS WITH A SEASON FUCKING TWO LOOMING ON THE HORIZON

HOW

Overall, the series had great ideas and none of them landed. The jokes are outdated and probably wouldn't even have been funny 30 years ago, and all of the potential this thing has was wasted on Santa once more LEARNING TO BE A GOOD PARENT WHEN IT'S LIKE. BRO. 3 MOVIES??? AND U STILL HAVEN'T LEARNT?????

I can't even write better thoughts rn and I have soo many gripes about this thing. SEASON 2??? LIKE. YOU KNOW SEASON 2 ISN'T GOING TO DO SHIT TO THINGS FROM SEASON 1. I BET SCOTT WILL LOOSE HIS WAY ONCE AGAIN AND BUDDY WILL QUIT IN THE MOST ANTI CLIMACTIC WAY POSSIBLE AND I'M JUST

😤

THANKS FOR COMING TO MY TSC RANT.

[longeyelashedtragedy]

For the ask game: 3, 19, 29, 30?

3. i am most proud of "visited upon the sons." i think the quality of all my writing was questionable this year, but this fic did exactly what i wanted it to do, and it was so fun to write, once i got in the headspace, that i still miss it. it was also fun getting to write a whole "making of" post about it.

wait guys i hit post too soon LOL watch this space

19. let's see, i already said pepling and frank+daddy A...i would like to write the gross jamie x franko x christine threesome, i won't lie! i'd also love to explore more of Frank Sr's motivations for how he feels about harry 👀

29. i can't choose favorites of anything! i do love:

-But here he is kissing Rob in Rob’s car with the steering wheel on the wrong side and it doesn’t feel anything but right.  from "the prerogative to have a little fun"

-You will remember Granit Xhaka’s last night in this office, on this desk, glowing like something more than human, as much as he’d insist he was no more than a man.  Glowing like an angel—the kinds from the Bible, the ones so beautiful and terrible, the kinds whom God trusts to convey His messages.

You’d always thought of Granit as your beautiful beast, but in the end you were wrong.  You met him as a beast.  He left you as an angel.

Only a supernatural force could move on from this, and you, Mikel Arteta, with the name everyone but Granit mispronounces, are exceptional, but you are human too.  You had an angel in your office, and now there’s a darkness around the edges of the room that the overhead lights can’t dream of illuminating. from "how to stay there"

and of course--everyone knows i'll say this!!--

-

And now he’s alone.  Or is he? 

There’s a ghost somewhere in the ripped pieces on the floor, and there’s a ghost in bed with Mason.

And the ghost has a name—he’s never known before, and he’s wondered for decades now. It has the same name as the one on the Wall of Fame at Stamford Bridge.  It has the same name as the one there, ripped and thrown to the bedroom floor.  It has the same name as Dad, as it happens.  And it’s here, thinking his thoughts.  Holding his Mason tight like it loves him. from "visited upon the sons"

but also from there i like--well i like the whole fic but i also enjoy--

Mason saying “I love you, daddy,” like the wind’s been knocked out of him.

He thinks of the West Ham jersey crumpled in the bedroom.  God, why?  Why has he kept it?  Why does he talk about the bad times out in public, so openly it seems to go against some kind of survival instinct? 

Dad’s never mentioned it.  Never said son we should talk about all that. Never even said why the fuck do you bring that old shit up?  Crying for some cake again Frankie, ain't you?  Never, nothing, like he’d never told the stories, like he’d opened his mouth and no sound had come out.

He gropes behind him with the hand that’s not down the back of Mason’s joggers, finds the neck of the rosé bottle.  There’s still some left. He drinks right out of the bottle. 

“Don’t get drunk, daddy,” Mason giggles.  “You’re my manager.”

Mason, Mason, Mason.  Don’t get drunk, daddy.  You’re his manager.  Even though Jamie got drunk, Jamie and Dad and Uncle Harry and—Jamie and—

He presses his forehead to Mason’s and then kisses him and tastes his moans, sweet like wine against his lips.

30. the biggest surprise while writing actually came from writing "visited upon the sons!" i don't really follow many gender or sexuality expectations but also sort of don't advertise this in the real world--i just live my life--and i came away from writing this realizing how much i truly hate and not just hate--resent!--heteronormative societal expectations being put on me. in most of 2023 i was putting in the hard work trying to feel comfortable around "normal" people and a lot of this involved me being a part of conversations with very very typical "cishet" opinions like 'can men and women truly be FRIENDS' and 'i hate waxing and it's expensive but i gotta do it for my boyfriend!' all of which left me very "bitch, you live like this?" i realized when writing frank's memories that the extent to which he is so tired of Lads always bringing up The Ladies is very much a reflection of something i felt strongly about that i didn't even realize. and genuinely, i think realizing this helped me feel so much more comfortable in my own skin? so thank you, Fucked Up Franko <3 viva la lampardverse!

[prophecydungeon]

not quite to the date (yet) but ten years ago i posted a fic that is somehow still sitting on the front page of results by kudos and by bookmarks for the most popular ship in the most popular fandom on AO3 and i still don't know how that happened.

like... really genuinely truly i don't know what kind of WILD perfect-storm-level shit was going on to make this happen. the original post got eleven whole notes here on tungle (yeah i checked lmao). i am not, actually, a very Doing Numbers blogger or writer, nor had i ever been, nor will i ever be. as far as i know, there wasn't any wildass six degrees of separation thing that happened where someone very Doing Numbers made it Do Numbers. i didn't "advertise" it or anything (ppl who make fic graphics and have a posting/rbing/rting schedule.. i could never lmao), i didn't post it on every site known to man, i didn't tag it to hell, i didn't really do anything. it just fucking happened. and it's still happening!!! and i am just so fucking baffled. how did this happen. why are there people making tiktoks about this fic in the year of our lord 2022. how??????

i have a lot of very complicated feelings about this fic, with a lot of them boiling down to just, like, brain chemicals being very stupid, and i know that logically it's just brain chemicals gone bad! but it's still hard to shake ten (10!) years of feeling like my growth in writing is being constantly undercut by this thing that's created its own gravity well to keep sucking in kudos and comments when just about everything i've written since has been Better™ (which again, logically, i know is untrue -- i write for fandoms now that are relatively VERY small lol so of course nothing is ever going to Do Numbers again like this)

this fic was something i wrote after a very difficult-to-process series of events, so it was complete and utter wish fulfillment and it felt so good to write. the flip side of this, which in retrospect really soured the fic for me, is that i tried my damndest to live out the life i wrote in this fic. i went to grad school for linguistics two years later and TA'd, Just Like The Fic. it was supposed to be great! and those turned out to be the two most miserable years of my life. maybe not specifically because i was trying to live a daydream, but that disparity didn't help (though my friends certainly did). so in a way, aeiw is this image of a failed dream -- i'm not in linguistics as a field, not even remotely, and i likely never will be; i don't want to ever go back to academia, even though i will likely need to get another masters (derogatory) in my current field at some point.

BUT. i promised that this is not a negative post so i will pivot here to say very genuinely that i am so, so grateful to all the friendships and good times this fic has brought me. thank you to all the people i met because of this fic or while writing it. thank you to everyone who's gotten to know me for totally different reasons/fandoms/etc and then been like WAIT A SECOND. (it's so funny, every time.) thank you to everyone who's ever left kudos and said a kind word. (i still get kudos emails nearly every day just for this fic.)

and thank you to the incredibly beautiful personal anecdotes people have left on this fic, holy shit. i have a folder in my email for those specifically. here are some excerpts from comments that made me tear up:

Hey, so...you probably don't still read comments on this fic because it's so old and so wildly popular*, but I hope you see this. [...] I just started my first year of University as a Linguistics major, and I know for a fact that I wouldn't have figured out what I wanted to study had I never read this fic. I've always had trouble with school, and struggled to find subjects that weren't wildly difficult or insanely boring-until Linguistics. Now, I'm excited to learn and pursue my degree-maybe even a master's eventually. I just wanted to say thank you for this sweet story that stuck with me for all of these years, and helped me find what I want to do.

*i do. i read every single comment. every single one.

[...] Reading this, I don't understand how anyone could say that you, the writer, did this alone and will only ever be alone for this story.** I mean, we're separated by computer screens, but I feel that I was transported into your story in a way that transcends what is expected of the written word. Maybe this is my biased opinion as someone who has grown up in a secondary orality culture, but I just had to let you know that this story was more than the written word is often perceived to be. If that makes sense. I felt like I was there, getting the story and so caught up that I couldn't stop reading. And you might not be the narrator, but you're essentially god and you breathed life into these characters and I'm so in awe of you. You make it seem so easy! What's worse is I know it's not, so here I am, seeing something unfold with what looks like practiced ease when I know just how much work you've put into writing to get you to this point. I'm so proud of you! And it feels silly to say but I am, and I wanted you to know. [...]

**this is one of the most incredible things anyone has ever said to me.

[...] I first read this a long time ago (at least 6 years) when I was really Going Through It and this fic - specifically Dean - really resonated with me.*** It gave me an inkling (pun intended) of hope. And it was the first positive representation of tattoos that I'd seen. I started planning tattoos I wanted soon after reading this, using them the way Dean does in this to identify the important and best things in my life and figure out how to represent them and always have them with me. I just got my third done and I love all of them. So thank you for the impact that you've had on my life, and for writing such a wonderful story.

***i was really Going Through It as well. i'm doing great now and i hope you are too.

thank you to past me for writing this fic and finishing something "long" (lol..... lmao). thank you to past me for writing unabashed wish fulfillment, something i would lose the capability to do for a long time (dw, i got it back). thank you to this fic for irrevocably fucking up my AO3 statistics.

so anyways, ten years on i'm doing great. new career. new gender. new fursona. i live in a super cool area. i got like seven anime figures of this one horrendous guy. my sick tattoos have gotten even sicker. here's a portrait of the author for good measure:

and here are some fun facts about the fic that idr if i've ever shared before:

the scene at the very end where cas goes to get tattooed by dean? my beta wrote that for me. yes, the whole scene. thank you.

i don't remember who it was that carried a bike up some stairs but i always hefted my bike up onto my shoulder when walking it up my outside stairs so i pictured whoever that was doing it too (and i still have that bike! i refurb'd it last year!)

i think i own every vinyl i mentioned... i think

i definitely own led zeppelin's entire discography on vinyl

i finally bought a pair of rough-faced amethyst plugs for myself, something like two years ago? took me a while to get there

that sex scene was in there because i felt like i "had to" include one lmaoooo i had no idea what i was doing and i've written way better p*rn since then

when i turned 24 i did actually listen to 4 + 20 by csny first thing in the morning

soooo much of the tattoo and piercing stuff was so fucking pretentious of me.... but really, be thorough when looking for piercers and tattoo artists, stay safe, there are a lot of great resources out there

i actually pretty legitimately don't like showing my tattoos irl just because people can be really annoying/weird but i also just enjoy wearing long pants and long sleeves lol

...also yeah i do dress Like That. unironically.

some things i have written since then that i am very proud of:

P vs NP, RvB

the more i run (the farther away it seems), destiny

quema, bleach

in the details (not the devil), haikyuu!!

apsidial precession, destiny

and so in conclusion........ thank you. but i'm still baffled.