#but I wrote and golly I’m going to share it with you

[sixty-silver-wishes]

3. What’s your favorite fic that you’ve written? 20. What’s a favorite title for a fic you’ve written? 24. Share a moodboard for (one of) your current WIP(s)

My favourite fic is probably my 24 page “The Cabinet of Dr. Caligari” and “The Man Who Laughs” crossover floating around my Google Docs. I’ll still go back and read it from time to time, but there are some scenes in there I think hold up pretty well. There’s a lot of characterization and symbolism in there, and while I don’t hold my fics to the same quality standards as my original writing, I have to say I still really like that one.

I don’t put a ton of thought into the titles of my fics. The one I’m currently working on is called “shouldn’t you be writing original stuff right now,” but I’ve also written such opuses as “another fic wowwwww,” “local stickbug tries his best,” “golly gee I love overstepping boundaries,” “mahler actually bought the milk didn’t he” (for a good period of time, I wrote classical music fanfiction set in the afterlife, haha) and most recently, “aaaand we’re back with the 103 year old telenovela.” Many of my fics are also just called “hhhhhhhhh,” with varying numbers of h’s.

I don’t have any moodboards; sorry! just lots of awful fic titles

[singing-robot]

re: Dead Cells/Undertale

And why it would be the worst crossover ever. 

First off, I have not finished Dead Cells, and I’m trying to play it as blindly as possible, so please do not add anything further than what I mention right here in this post!!! This includes tips, runes, locations, and unseen dialogue. I’ve recently acquired my first stem cell, and have only gotten to the Concierge once in the many games I’ve started in hard mode, sodo please be mindful of that. And now, the promised content. 

This started off as a fun mashup between the two games, but the realistic side of my brain kicked in and said, “How would this actually go?” And, quite honestly, that one seemed more interesting, both in terms of how this hypothetical game would be played (I wish I could show you guys instead of just talking about it), and in the potential angst that would be held. 

The first thing I feel we need to address is how the game starts. Dead Cellsman (as I so often see him called) has a beheaded prisoner to crawl into each time you start over. Who is supplying these? I have no idea. However, I’m going to say that these bodies are either thrown down there by the same being each time you start, or Mr. Prisoner Sir finds his ride off-screen, and we only see him fall down. 

“But Robot!” you cry. “That’s so unnecessary and specific!!! Why would you bring that up?” Good question!! Because the alternative is diggging his way underground and taking over the dead body of the first fallen human. Only works once, and that’s so horrifying and disgusting that I immediately hated it as soon as I considered it, and wished I never had. The concept of eventually unlocking the other previous humans would be pretty cool if they weren’t, you know, way past their expiration date. 

Disgusting and terrible, but I needed to address it. Next section: actual fighting. 

Mr. Cellsman does not have the time for extensive dialogue and conversations. He’s thrown into prison, given a couple of weapons, and his tutorial covers a total of maybe 20 seconds between three deaths. Everything after that is a line of destruction and occasional smart remarks about something poorly lit by a blue candle. A speedrunning, monster-hacking, hilt-happy creature does not bode well for the residents of the Underground. 

He does not have much sympathy for the dead, and he criticizes those in charge of the living. I don’t blame him, honestly, but it makes me wonder how he would react to something that begged when he’s already supposed to kill it. Or if he would even give them time to do so. For the purposes of this post, he doesn’t. He sees it, he hacks it, he gains whatever coin they had on their person. All things considered, I’d say he would start off with a fairly high Level of Violence, so it would be much easier to go through the game. 

The boss fights would be very interesting. Toriel wouldn’t have any sort of connection as to a child, and would not hold back during her fight. I almost want to see it. The dogs would be the equivalent of Elites, probably. Papyrus would be absolute hell to fight, with his constant ground attacks; not to mention that you’re supposed to hit him in the middle of all of it. He’ll make it a fair fight, of course, but according to even Dead Cells logic, he will be on par with you. I think Undyne would be very similar to the Time Keeper, except you couldn’t simply break out of her hold. 

I did this in my sketchbook and I’m so glad I can make it again with real context.

To be fair, I’ve only gotten as far as Undyne, so I won’t go much farther on that topic, except on the specifics of the next section dealing with Sans, since I won’t ever play that run, anyway. (So, basically, I lied.) 

Encountering Sans at the end would be... very frustrating, to say the least. Either his fight would be very similar to the Hand of the King, or he would simply disappear every time you tried to hit him, until you figure out that there’s actually a secret passage to bypass him entirely and you’ve wasted so much time, there goes your speedrunning record. The difference here might actually count on either the time it took you to get to the end, or how thoroughly you took out the monster population. (He would probably deal more damage than Frisk ever could; getting held up so often allowed for more people to escape.) 

Wow. So. Here we are. Are you still reading this? Have you done this all in one big chunk? Please take a moment to look away from your screen, stretch, and do five real good blinks. Take in a deep breath and hold it. Hold it. A little longer. And out. Yeah, man. Breathe some of the outside stuff, too, for bonus refreshment. Maybe get some water while we’re here. This post is a little long, might as well add in a break time paragraph. I’m certainly using it as a time to stop writing, before I get into the next segment and lose 30 more minutes. Also??? Thanks for sticking through this far, it really means a lot. Especially since I haven’t edited a single bit of this so far, and probably won’t from this point on. 

All right!!! Have you stretched? Have you had some water? Did you take a big whiff of your surroundings so as to not get too lost in the sauce of this crazy post? I hope so, pal, because here comes the fun part: The Aftermath. 

When you fight Sans, he makes his accusation: you’re the anomaly in his research, and you need to be stopped. But here’s the thing: he doesn’t say that on nothing. He says that in almost full confidence, and suspected it in other runs. What gives you away? Not entirely sure, but I bet defeating the Captain of the Royal Guard without dying, or openly having zero interest in things that should be interesting, hints at it. And unless something is lit by a blue candle or offers the promise of cells and upgraded weapons, Dead Cellsman has very little interest in anything at all. 

So you could imagine that someone speedrunning through the Underground, killing everyone in his path while hardly stopping to glance at the scenery, would be waving a big red “time anomaly” flag. And if Sans managed to evade him until the end, and even had the time to overcome any shock and actually do something, that would be one horrible, inescapable fight. 

Here’s where my idea splits in two: 

1. Sans dies. You receive a special item to take out Asgore in one hit, you win, you finish the game. There is... little point in restarting it, because I’m logical and boring and the remaining monsters of the Underground wouldn’t come out of hiding for... a very long time. Longer than it’d be worth Mr. Cellsman to consider coming back for. 

So when Frisk falls, there is nothing and nobody. The place is a little dusty, a little bloody, there’s a few spare coins on the ground, but everything is utterly abandoned. The towns, the stores, the homes you can’t explore, anyway; they’re empty. It’d make for a boring game, honestly. There’s Flowey, but he’s so distracted by recent events that he doesn’t even show up when you first fall. There’s not point in “kill or be killed” when there’s no one around to fight you. He’ll talk to you, sure, but because you’re another entertaining attraction. Your SOUL would be great, but what’s the point if the others are almost completely inaccessible, now? 

Perhaps he’ll tell you the tale of the genocidal killing spree he witnessed for fun. 

2. (This ending applies to ones with and without a Sans fight, with or without total monster destruction.) Not to add another angst story featuring the Sans man, bUT... Sans does not die. You get past him, you take out Asgore, you win the game, whatever. You get to move on.

And Sans was wrong. Nothing resets. He thought he was right, he was so positive, but here he is. And there are so many people who are dead. It must be hard to deal with, when he hardly has anyone to blame it on. He can’t even curse the murderer to his face. So imagine what it must be like to watch another monster kill so many of its own kind, only to have a human fall after that. The creature that banished them all underground is now here to either finish them off or send them to the Surface, but I doubt anyone thinks it’s the latter. The angel has returned to free them all.

I accidentally made a super metal and symbolic image to go with this, I will post it separately because, holy cow, did not expect it to turn out like this. 

Frisk has to face the most scared, enraged, and depressed monsters they could ever have encountered. Some of them will attack as viciously as they can. Others will beg for mercy, or run as quickly as possible. More will just wait, confused and perhaps upset if they are spared. There will be some who are simply NPCs, as per usual, but they will be very different. There will be fewer. Frisk’s mission to save monsters and encourage their character development will be vastly different and very difficult. 

I... made the mistake of waiting over 24 hours to type out the second half of this and lost some of the steam I started with, but I’m also bad at simply describing how bleak and depressing it would be without getting too much into it. So!!! To conclude, a semi-realistic Dead Cells/Undertale crossover would be extremely sad and depressing, since it’s basically coming in on the aftermath of almost-genocide. I will definitely accept further questions and, possibly, requests regarding this post, especially since you actually read through the entire thing and endured through everything in this post even after my enthusiasm died down in my writing. Sorry to disappoint after hyping up The Aftermath, but I was writing that at midnight and probably lost some of my good points. Definitely had a better version in my head. 

I also super ignored almost everything involving Flowey for Mr. Prisoner Sir because uhhh I didn’t want to write around that too much, so please don’t call me out on it because I definitely am aware of it and only have weak justifications for doing so. And, since we’re both here, 

UnderCells - a little catchy, I like it, but it sounds like the main story itself would be focusing on Dead Cellsman going through the Underground. While it would, to an extent, ignoring Frisk’s presence would simply make it a new level and brief one shot thing for the man. I really like the sound of it, though. 

DeadTale - far more appropriate for Frisk’s leg of the journey (as well as all of monsterkind), kinda funny in a sick sort of way, definitely used somewhere else. 

It doesn’t matter if you use either of these terms, I thought I’d address it since it’s already a super long post :’D

You made it to the end!!! Congratulations!!! 

[chilling-seavey]

When Universes Collide - The AU Mini Series - 2

The Lotus Inn is a place we all know well; and a place where all universes collide in a small ripple of the time space continuum. It’s the spot for characters of alternate universes to meet and interact – even those who are from vastly different worlds and timelines. In this one-shot, the original characters from the universes of this blog gather for lunch at the Lotus Inn restaurant and discuss their similarities and differences.

Warning: This does contain spoilers to any and all fics on my blog so read with caution if you haven’t read all of them!

A/N This obviously isn’t part of any timeline and is just something I wrote for fun! The Daniel version can be found here.

A/N2 Shoutout to @randomlimelightxxx​ for helping to plot some most of this with me hehe

The Lotus Inn – 11:56am

It was a sunny afternoon and the stained glass windows that framed the exterior wall sent colourful streaks of light across the wooden floors of the tearoom. The waiter made his rounds through the almost empty café, tending to the few patrons as he passed by, but focused on setting the small circular table in the corner for a reservation for five. It was tucked away in the circular corner of the café to be lit by the large windows and white paneled trim, the white linen resting pristinely over the table and each place setting was arranged precisely.

The tearoom was the brightest and most elegant room at the Lotus Inn; most of its spaces being toned darker and decorated to a taste of shabby simplicity. But, just off the lobby, three steps up, was the white painted tearoom, perfect for an early afternoon gathering.

A young woman ascended the few steps carefully, one hand on the railing as she walked with obvious caution. Her stomach was swollen under her deep blue dress and her blonde hair was pinned back and curled around her shoulders under a brimmed matching hat, and her gloved hand was set protectively over her middle.

Elizabeth Seavey

Age 22

She made her way to the reserved table and the waiter helped slide out one of the chairs for her. She thanked him politely and sat down as gracefully as she could manage, assuring him that she could wait until her company arrived to order anything. Left alone, Elizabeth leaned back in her chair and tried to ignore the aching of her feet and ankles in her heels, gently taking off her gloves and tucked them in her purse to freely rub her hand over her stomach.

Back across the tearoom, another woman was entering, walking up the stairs purposefully in a business-casual dress as she tucked her cell phone away in her purse. Her face was dusted in light makeup but she looked tired even underneath it and the addition of a quickly done up ponytail that held her hair back from her face gave the impression that she was in a bit of a rush that morning. Despite this, she carried herself well.

Florence Seavey

Age 25

Her heels clicked steadily across the wooden floors as she approached the table in the corner, her smile widening as she saw someone already there.

Elizabeth looked up at the sound of someone approaching and she smiled politely up at her, “Hello.”

“Hi.” Florence smiled.

“I would stand but…” Elizabeth gently patted her swollen stomach.

“Oh, no, please. Stay sitting.” Florence grinned, choosing her seat right beside her. “I’m Florence.”

“Elizabeth.”

“Aw, that’s my daughter’s middle name.” Florence said.

“You have a daughter?” Elizabeth asked.

“Yes. Three.” Florence sighed tiredly, but her beaming smile was unmissable. “They keep me busy. How far along are you?”

“About eight months.” Elizabeth said calmly, glancing back down at her growing belly. She rubbed a proud hand over it.

“Your first?”

“Yes.”

The two early arrivals couldn’t get another word out before a third guest was entering. She looked a little frazzled, blonde hair a bit of a wavy messy and Louis Vuitton purse slung half off her shoulder as she hopped up the few steps into the tearoom. She was texting away on her cell phone, manicured fingers typing a mile a minute and she nearly crashed right into the waiter.

“Shit. I’m so sorry.” she said quickly, jumping out of the way so he didn’t drop the tray in his hand. He just gave her a polite glance and headed off to another table. The young woman stopped in the middle of the aisle and continued typing; the clicking of her thumbs against the screen making Florence’s eyebrows raise slightly.

With a sigh, the newest arrival dropped her phone back in her purse and glanced over at the table, surprised to see two other women already staring at her.

Avalon Sinclair

Age 22

“Oh God, I hope I’m not too late.” she said quickly, heading over to the table to join them and she sat on Florence’s other side, dropping her purse to the ground at her feet. “The taxi took the longest possible route to get here. He had no clue where this place was.”

“You’re right on time.” Florence assured her politely.

“Good.” Avalon sighed. “My boyfriend may not care about being late but I certainly do.”

The three women shared small smiles.

Suddenly, from across the way; “You’re a doll. Thank you.”

The ladies looked over to where the waiter was standing with a fourth young woman, handing her a strawberry milkshake from his tray. She smiled at him sweetly behind lightly freckled cheeks and curled shoulder length brown hair as she took the pink filled glass. Her green eyes rose to the table of three women staring at her as she took a sip from the straw and she paused in place for a moment before grinning at them.

Loretta Howard

Age 18

She hurried over and took her seat next to Elizabeth, setting her milkshake on the table as she offered a smile to the others.

“Hello. I’m Loretta. Call me Lori.” she greeted sweetly.

“Lori. What a pretty name.” Elizabeth hummed.

“Thank you.” Loretta grinned bashfully.

“How old are you, Lori?” Florence asked.

“Eighteen. Just graduated high school.”

“Aw, how nice. Congratulations.”

“Thanks.” Loretta smiled, smoothing her dress down over her lap. “Golly, you are all so nice.”

The older ladies chuckled lightly.

“Corbyn said to not expect much from this but I think I’m going to make some good friends here today.” Lori said.

“Corbyn?” Florence questioned.

“My boyfriend.” Loretta nodded, her brown curls bouncing along the curves of her cheekbones gently.

Elizabeth and Avalon and Florence exchanged silent confused glances before looking back to the eighteen-year-old.

“Daniel’s not your boyfriend?” Avalon asked.

Loretta’s jaw clenched slightly and she leaned forward to take a nervous slip of her milkshake before answering, “Nope.”

“So…then…why are you here, honey?” Avalon inquired gently.

Loretta glanced up at her and then to Elizabeth and Florence who were also staring at her expectantly. She sat up straighter, “I got the invitation just like all of you…I can’t offer any more than that.”

The conversation was cut short by a sudden cry coming from the direction of the washrooms and out stepped another young woman dressed in a corset and floor length dress and carrying a wailing baby on her hip. She looked tired and quite frazzled, her strawberry blonde hair tied back from her face but fell into a few flyaways around her and the baby on her hip held a tiny fistful of her hair in his hand as he cried. Her gentle shushing didn’t seem to console him much.

Louisa Seavey

Age 17

She hurried over to the last empty seat at the table beside Loretta and Avalon and sat the baby on her lap, “I am so terribly sorry I am late. I tried to calm him down in the washroom but…he is just so fussy right now. I promise I was here early even…”

“Don’t worry about it.” Florence assured her quickly. “I get it.”

Louisa pulled a tight thankful smile in her direction before looking down to the baby on her lap, bouncing him on her knee a little to try and quiet him down.

“Shh, Henri, silence, s'il vous plaît. Pour mama.” (Shh, Henry, quiet down please. For mama.) Louisa whispered to her upset son but her efforts were to no avail.

“I can take him from you for a little while. I have three little ones at home so I know having a bit a break is nice sometimes.” Florence offered.

“Oui – Yes, thank you.” Louisa sighed with relief.

Florence got up and hurried around the table to scoop up the crying baby before returning to her seat.

“What did you say his name was?” Florence asked.

“Henry.” Louisa answered softly, already breathing a little better as her baby quieted down in the arms of the most experienced mother at the table.

“Hi, Henry.” Florence cooed, stroking her finger against his chubby cheek that was streaked with tears, “You’re giving your mama a bit of a hard time it seems.”

“He has been wailing for days now.” Louisa said.

“How old is he?” Florence asked.

“Seven months.”

“Ah. Little man might be teething.” Florence answered. “Mind if I try something?”

Louisa shook her head to urge her on. Florence dipped her pinky in her ice water glass and then offered it to the baby and Henry stared up at her with big blue eyes as she set her finger against his warm gums. He quieted right down, sniffling and munching gummily on her finger.

“That’s it.” Florence smiled. She turned back to the young mother, “Bit of the cold helps to ease the pain of his little teeth growing in.”

“You are…magnifique.” Louisa breathed in awe, as if Florence was her saviour.

“You learn as you go.” Florence chuckled.

“I feel like the most useless mother.” Louisa sighed, tears brimming in her eyes.

“No. Don’t be so hard on yourself.” Florence tisked, looking down at the baby who was happily sucking on her finger. “I wasn’t much older than you when I had my first and I was completely in the dark through it. You’ll overthink every little thing and second guess your every move but trust your instinct. You know your baby better than you think you do.”

Elizabeth reached over to the baby to touch his little hand. He wrapped his fingers around two of hers and she smiled widely, “Hi there.”

Henry smiled at her through Florence’s finger and let out a little giggle. The women cooed sweetly over the baby.

Louisa took a small shaky inhale and nodded to Florence, “Merci. I cannot even imagine managing more than one…even with a palace full of staff.”

“Palace?” Avalon glanced over at her.

“Yes, Henry Alexander, Prince of York, heir the British throne currently. Until he gets some cousins at least.”

The women gushed excitedly over that concept – that Florence was holding such an important possible leader on her lap in that very moment. It only made Elizabeth’s heart swell with eager pride at all the opportunities for an exciting life that was to come with the little person growing inside her.

“Oh my goodness, I can’t wait for mine.” she sighed, leaning back in her chair to set her hands on her belly. The newly arrived women gushed excitedly over the pregnancy that somehow had hidden itself behind the tablecloth in their rush to sit down.

“Do you know if it’s a boy or a girl?” Lori asked.

“We won’t know until he or she is born.” Elizabeth answered, smiling down at her swollen stomach.

“Do you have names yet?” Avalon asked, leaning her elbows on the table with her chin in her hands.

Elizabeth only grinned bashfully, “Yes. Evelyn for a girl…always been one of my most favourite names. Charles for a boy…Charles Christian…after Daniel’s brother.”

“That is so sweet. They’re close then?” Florence said.

“Yes, well, they were. Daniel lost his brother in the war so for us it would be a bit of honouring his memory. They were as close as ever and it really shook him.”

“That is terrible.” Louisa frowned.

Lori and Florence offered their gentle condolences.

“I wish my Christian was as good as dead.” Avalon mumbled, tisking under her breath as she sat back in her chair.

Her statement took the other ladies by surprise.

“He hates me.” she explained to their startled expressions. “I don’t know why since I haven’t done anything to him and only loved his brother like a girlfriend should, but nothing I do is good enough.”

“That’s not fair.” Lori frowned.

Louisa hummed, taking a sip of her water before speaking softly, “I was supposed to marry Christian. He is to be King and I was to be his Queen…but then I fell in love with his brother and we ran away together…and had a little prince of our own.”

“What a Romeo and Juliet type of love story.” Avalon complimented. “But with a happy ending of course.”

Louisa smiled, “Yes. I am terribly in love with him.”

“What about you, Lori?” Elizabeth directed to the second youngest of their group. “You are the only one out of all of us who isn’t with a Daniel…what’s that about?”

“Oh.” Lori shifted slightly in her chair under the eyes of the other four women. “Well Corbyn and I dated out of high school and we fell in love. Nothing is to come between that. Not even if the universe tries, right? That’s what love’s all about.”

“The universe?” Avalon asked.

“Soulmates? Do you not have that in your…” she faded out when she was met with confused faces. “Well, Daniel claims he’s my soulmate and I’m sure he is just fine but I love Corbyn and I made a promise to Corbyn.”

She pulled the necklace out of the front of her dress to show the ring around her neck.

“Daniel is literally made for you and you’re choosing to stay with Corbyn? He must be someone pretty incredible then.” Elizabeth said gently.

“He’s…he’s nice.”

“Answer me one question, Lori.” Florence spoke up from across the table, still lightly bouncing baby Henry on her knee, “Knowing that I had once been in a similar spot as you and had my own issues letting go of my past love; does Corbyn make you feel like you’re the only girl in the room? And does he make that known to everyone around you? That you are a treasure to him among everything else in the world?”

Loretta processed the older woman’s words for a moment just as the waiter came over to bring them their tea. She watched her milkshake melt slowly in the glass in front of her. Florence left it at that.

Each china cup was filled with tea and the ladies thanked the waiter politely. He set a small pitcher of milk and a bowl of sugar cubes down as well as a few plates of biscuits and desserts and Louisa reached over right away for one of the macaroons. The ladies made their tea and took the first sips.

“I may take him.” Louisa said to Florence as she got up from the table. “Let you drink in peace.”

“Are you sure? I don’t mind.” Florence said.

“Yes. I must go feed him now anyways.” Louisa whispered.

“Oh, your tea just got here, you don’t have to leave. We don’t mind if you feed him here.”

The rest of the table agreed with Florence easily. Louisa hesitated but nodded and sat back down in her chair. The young mother, born in a time where breastfeeding in front of anyone – especially strangers – was not easily accepted, moved cautiously as she unbuttoned the top of her dress right at the table, eyeing the few tables throughout the tearoom that housed other random patrons.

“Here,” Florence reached into her purse and pulled out a small shawl. She held it across the table, “if you’ll be more comfortable.”

Avalon took it from her and helped to cover up Louisa and her baby so she could nurse a bit more privately, draping it over her shoulder. When Louisa was set, Avalon dropped her hand down to gently brush her finger over the baby’s tiny stockinged feet.

“God, I wish Daniel wasn’t making me wait for kids.” Avalon whispered. “He says we gotta wait at least five years but babies are just so yummy I want one right now.”

The ladies chuckled at her gentle cooing.

“Why’s he making you wait?” Elizabeth asked.

“Well he’s so busy with his work and it doesn’t seem like he even has plans to propose to me any time soon so…nothing about babies in the immediate future.” Avalon shrugged as she picked a few treats from the plates in the centre of the table.

“Waiting is good…you’re better prepared then.” Florence said. “Get your finances in order and things.”

“Ohh trust me…finances are not an issue with Daniel.” Avalon chuckled almost humourlessly. “That man has more than he knows what to do with. He’s just stubborn.”

“Maybe stubbornness comes with the name.” Louisa giggled.

“Maybe so.” Florence laughed and the other girls agreed.

Lori just sipped from her teacup quietly, listening in.

Florence spoke up, “Are your Daniels brunette or do they also have a weird obsession with going blonde?”

“Oh gosh, no. Always brunette.” Elizabeth answered quickly.

“He would look absolutely ridiculous blonde.” Louisa laughed.

“Mine’s blonde. I think its sexy.” Avalon boasted cheekily.

There was a chorus of ‘no’s across the table – even from Loretta – and Avalon just laughed.

“I guess it’s growing on me,” Flora shrugged, “but I do miss him as a full brunette. Fatherhoods kept him busy that he’s almost there again. I’m trying not to say anything so he’ll let it grow out.”

“How long have you been married?” Elizabeth asked, resting her teacup on the top of her large stomach habitually.

“Only a year.” Florence answered. “We were best friends for a while and then realized after far too long that we were almost destined to be together so we started dated and he proposed not even a year later.”

“Your own version of soulmates.” Louisa chuckled, side glancing Lori.

“I suppose. You really feel soulmates in here.” Florence agreed, setting a hand over her heart.

Loretta sipped her drink quietly, her mind swirling with thoughts of her true soulmate that was sitting across the Inn with his own group of other young men. She couldn’t get him out of her head.

“I agree.” Elizabeth said. “I knew Daniel was the love of my life from the first week I met him. Even through the war we wrote almost every day and after, even through all the horrible things he had gone through, I wouldn’t dream of being with anyone else.”

“Which war?” Loretta asked, trying to pitch into conversation.

“What do you mean?” Elizabeth glanced over at her. “There has only been one.”

“Alright, no more war talk at the table.” Florence jumped in quickly, sharing a wide eyed expression with Avalon beside her. “We don’t need to worry the mama-to-be.”

“But is he…alright?” Loretta asked Elizabeth.

“Yes. He’s doing fine.” Elizabeth told her with a gentle smile. “Bit worried about him right now but he’s a strong man…just gets nervous.”

“For someone who’s not dating a Daniel you sure are concerned.” Avalon peaked an amused eyebrow at Loretta.

Her freckled cheeks dusted pink, “I do care about Daniel. He’s just not my boyfriend.”

“Mhm. Now that’s the tea, sis.” Avalon said teasingly as she took a sip from her china cup. Florence giggled.

Baby Henry mewled softly from under the shawl and Louisa carefully did her dress back up in a neat bow before lifting her son up to her shoulder. She passed the shawl back to Florence with an honest thank you before focussing on burping her baby, whispering to him in French to soothe him. The women ate and sipped quietly, talking casually among themselves, until Loretta was choking on her tea and nearly spitting it back in the cup.

“What’s wrong?” Florence asked quickly as Elizabeth passed her a napkin.

Loretta dabbed her mouth with the napkin, her eyebrows furrowing as her tongue swiped over her lips, “They’re…I think they’re drinking alcohol.”

“How do you know?” Elizabeth asked worriedly.

“You can taste what your soulmate tastes in my universe.” Loretta explained. “I swear that’s alcohol.”

“Daniel better not.” Elizabeth spoke worriedly. “I don’t want him down that path.”

“I’ll ask.” Florence pulled her phone from her purse and sent a quick text to her husband.

Daniel James, you better not be drinking alcohol.

“What are you doing?” Elizabeth asked from beside her, glancing down to the iPhone in Florence’s hands. “What is that?”

“It’s my phone. A little portable phone.” Florence said. “I’m basically just sending my husband a little letter through the telephone.”

“Incredible.” Elizabeth grinned.

“I don’t doubt it was my boyfriend’s fault about the alcohol…he’s a bit of a partier.” Avalon sighed. “I hope he’s not being an ass about it.”

Florence’s phone buzzed in her hand and she glanced back down,

Just one of the guys is mostly. Another just had a sip. Not me.

Good because you know what happens when you drink

I get you pregnant? That’s not much of a threat, sweetheart ;)

“Uh oh. I know that look.” Avalon sang from her spot at the table. “Someone’s blushing.”

“I am not.” Florence laughed and tucked her phone back in her purse.

“Is he sending you dirty texts mid-lunch?” Avalon gasped playfully, “Scandalous.”

The ladies ‘ooo’ed.

“Daniel used to send me naughty letters in the night…slide them under my bedroom door at the palace.” Louisa admitted quietly as if it was a terrible secret. “I would get a terrible rouge on my cheeks.”

“My oh my. How romantic.” Elizabeth teased sweetly.

“He has a way with words like no other.” Louisa boasted with a cheeky smile.

“I agree there.” Florence nodded. “Daniel’s the most romantic man I’ve ever met. In day to day life and in bed.”

She hid her smirk behind a sip of tea and the rest of the ladies gasped excitedly at the saucy gossip that was starting to rise.

“Isn’t he just the most passionate lover?” Louisa gushed out before she could stop herself.

The three older women agreed quickly. Loretta watched on quietly, flicking her eyes between the various members of the group and tried to ignore the taste of various appetizers that she could taste over her tongue. The women spoke of their most romantic encounters with their husbands – or boyfriend – and Loretta listened in, her mind taken up by thoughts of her own sweet Daniel who she had pushed away so persistently. Florence wasn’t wrong…he seemed to be incredibly romantic.

“No, no. The best is right when he comes home from the gym.” Florence argued. “He’s always shirtless and sweaty and I could just – ugh!”

“I let him come to me.” Elizabeth added instead, “He’s a quiet man but I always know his intentions when his fingers brush down the side of my neck and his lips follow suit. Ooh – I get goosebumps just thinking about it.”

“Yes! His breath on my neck! I could die!” Louisa squealed as quietly as should with the baby starting to drift to sleep against her shoulder.

“What’s the craziest place you hooked up with your men?” Avalon asked, leaning in towards the middle of the table as they spoke of questionable topics in the public tearoom. The other girls leaned in to join the quiet conversation.

“The throne room at Buckingham Palace.” Louisa answered first.

“Oh my God!” Florence shrieked quietly, holding her hands over her mouth. “That’s incredible.”

Louisa nodded proudly.

“Ours is probably the grand piano at his work.” Florence answered.

“Oh a piano.” Louisa gushed, as if mentally adding that to her own list.

“A piano? And in the throne room?” Elizabeth gaped. “No, no. We’ve only made love in our bed.”

“Aw, come on.” Avalon pressed.

“I’m serious!” Elizabeth laughed lightly. “He always takes me upstairs no matter what we’re doing or where we are.”

“Not even in the living room?” Florence glanced over at her.

Elizabeth shook her head.

“Oh, honey, after you have that baby and make a good recovery, surprise your husband in the living room at least.” Avalon said. “Trust me.”

Elizabeth grinned and nodded, “Alright.”

“Where’s your craziest spot?” Florence turned to Avalon.

“Some random alleyway in downtown LA.” Avalon answered, biting back a smirk.

“Isn’t that dirty?” Elizabeth gaped.

“That’s the point, honey.” Avalon clicked her tongue.

The ladies laughed giddily.

“What about you, Lori? Any gossip to share?” Louisa asked.

They all looked over at her.

“Oh. No. I haven’t…”

“Good girl. Don’t throw it away for just anyone.” Florence said quickly, adding with a teasing little smile, “Save it for your soulmate.”

“Yes. It makes your wedding night so special.” Elizabeth agreed.

“You waited until your wedding night?” Avalon raised her eyebrows.

Elizabeth looked between all the girls, “Yes. Did you not?”

“I slept with him on our first date.” Avalon whispered.

“Oh my!” Elizabeth giggled quietly.

“I was still engaged to his brother when we first went to bed together.” Louisa added.

“We were best friends and got drunk and accidentally made a baby.” Florence finished.

The girls all burst into eager squeals and giggles – even Loretta – and quickly quieted down as the waiter came over to refill their tea. With matching pink cheeks, the ladies thanked him quickly and sat up straighter in their chairs, Louisa focussing back down on her sleeping baby in her arms.

With refilled tea and more desserts, the women shared pictures of their Daniels – and Florence showed a few of her daughters – and they gushed excitedly over how nearly identical the boys looked. Louisa was pleasantly surprised with the photograph that had appeared under her teacup of her love – the Lotus Inn was known to work in mysterious almost magical ways – and Loretta tried to ignore the skip in her heart at the photograph of Daniel that appeared tucked in her unfolded napkin. With two cellphones and three photographs tossed in the centre of the table, the women spoke loudly among themselves and pointed out all the similarities and tiny differences between the five almost identical men.

“Mines the blondie!” Avalon boasted as she snatched up her phone.

“Ha-ha. I’m sorry to hear that.” Florence teased.

The rest of the visit didn’t allow for a single moment of silence, all five women filling the time with conversation and jokes and stories. Florence offered a bit of motherly advice to Louisa and Elizabeth and when Elizabeth’s baby started kicking they all rushed over to set their hands on her belly to feel.

“I just want him or her here already!” Elizabeth huffed with a smile.

“The last two months make you the most impatient, don’t they?” Florence chuckled.

“Seems so.” Elizabeth sighed. “But I had a lot of tea and I need to use the ladies room.”

The women moved their hands off of her and Florence helped her up.

“I should get going anyway. All this baby talk has me missing my girls.” Florence said.

“Corbyn’s going to be here any moment to pick me up too.” Loretta added.

They all gathered their things and left money for the waiter as they left the table and shared friendly hugs in the lobby. A few tears were choked back as they had made good friends that would only be present for that lunch hour. Well wishes were shared and the women cooed little goodbyes to sleepy baby Henry before parting ways.

Elizabeth stopped by the washroom and did her business, pausing to admire herself in the mirror, rubbing a gentle hand over her belly and adjusted her spring hat before heading out to the street. Her husband was waiting for her by the main exit on the sidewalk and she smiled at how handsome he looked in his uniform.

Daniel pushed himself up off the brick wall as she approached and they both leaned in for a quick kiss.

“Was it nice?” Elizabeth asked.

Daniel thought for a moment, his eyes focused on his hands on her hips and her round stomach between them but he smiled tightly and nodded. He looked back at her face, “It was pleasant. We had a few laughs.”

“That’s good. I’m proud of you.” Elizabeth said, leaning up to kiss him again. “You didn’t drink, did you?” 

“No.” Daniel assured her. “You know I keep my promises.”

They smiled at each other and he offered his arm. She set her hand in the crook of his elbow and they headed off down the street together, away from the Lotus Inn and their momentary friends. 

[tf2-headcanons-and-scenarios]

What if a s/o wrote poems and love letters to Medic in secret (never delivering them) and one day Archimedes grabs some of them and shows them to Medic?? X3

A/N: You are a genius. Enough said.

Another day, another letter written, sealed and stuffed into a drawer that was slowly losing space. No matter how many times they write anything directed towards Medic, [y/n] will never deliver or show any of them to him. That begs the questions as to why they write them in the first place. In a way, writing love letters and poems for a person that will never see them have [y/n] a medium to properly express their feelings towards the German doctor, and by golly would they die if Medic ever saw them. Heaven forbid Scout of all people found the stash.

Love in the battlefield was not commonplace, and even the smallest expression of admiration never went unnoticed. That didn’t stop anyone from catching feelings, and by golly did Medic catch feelings HARD. For the doctor, love was a chemical reaction the brain made and by golly did [y/n] make his chemicals skyrocket through the roof in the best of ways. The conversations he shared with them in the medical lab, the battlefield banter, the way they gently caressed the doves, it never failed to make him smile and feel light on the inside. However, despite [y/n]’s presence lingering in his mind, the more pressing matter that plagued his thoughts was where Archimedes flew off to.

—————————————

[y/n] just managed to stuff your latest poem into their desk drawer when Scout barged into the room asking if they wanted to play, and by golly they would be lying if they said they didn’t get startled by the boy’s presence. When Scout left, [y/n] opened the drawer to take the poem out again, more to see whether or not they were motivated to finish it or to just let it gather dust in a cramped space for the rest of eternity. They barely noticed the door was left open when the soft cooing of a dove startled them. Turning to find the door open and Archimedes sitting on the desk, [y/n] sighed and smiled.

“Hey there Archimedes. What are you doing all the way over here in this stuffy room?”

As innocent as Archimedes was, he was still Medic’s pet, and his curious nature led to him snatching a bunch of papers up from the drawer and fly away. Envelopes and papers began falling from underneath his talons, and [y/n] was left in a panicked state as they followed the dove, catching any lose papers that fell from his grip and stuffing each into a pocket. Heaven forbid if anyone else got to those pages before they did.

Well, it wasn’t as if [y/n] wanted that dignity anyway. Dying of embarrassment seemed to be a fitting end to their life too.

—————————————

Medic watched as Archimedes flew into his lab with a bunch of papers in his grip. Medic looked at an envelope with his name attached to it. He was not expecting the following to greet him:

‘Medic,

The hours we spend talking in the Medical Lab seem to be an eternity I long to hold onto. Your laughter brightens my day and you never cease to amaze me with your (questionable) knowledge of medicine and anatomy.

I may seem mad for saying this, but the best people are the ones who go crazy after all (I have you to prove that for me). Put simply: I seem to have the case of feelings, feelings I caught from you.

As stupid as I may seem right now, would it be possible to be more than friends?

[y/n]’

His face was bright pink when he picked up another item from the pile, this time a sheet of paper:

‘Roses are red. Violets are blue. Are you a bloody fish? Because you are quite the catch.’

‘M is for marvellous

E is for eccentric

D is for devious

I is for inventive

C is for certainly attractive’

‘Your eyes are like oceans

Your laugh is a breeze

If there’s one thing I wish for:

An eternity with you.’

‘Medic,

I hope I have the guts to send this your way this Valentines Day. I think the best way to convey how I feel is to say simply:

I love you.

But that’s a bit boring isn’t it? I wouldn’t know how you’d react, your the one reading this letter, I’m not.

Feel free to throw this out if you don’t care about it. I honestly don’t mind.

Is it weird to say ‘I love you’ at the end of this? Oh well, I’ll say it anyway, I did say it above too so I guess there’s no point being shy about it.

I love you,

[y/n].’

Medic didn’t think his face could have been redder, nor his body temperature hotter. Well, at least he knows [y/n] like him back, most likely at the cost of their now shattered dignity!

—————————

[y/n] was slowly dying of embarrassment after failing to catch Archimedes and get back the love letters and poems. A soft knock on the door brought their attention to the reality that Medic might confront them to either reciprocate the emotion or ask what the heck the letters were about.

Getting up, they opened the door to see a small box with a string tied in a bow. Collecting the box, [y/n] opened it up to see a rose and a letter addressed to them. Curiously, they opened it up to read the following:

‘Roses are red

Violets are blue

I fucked up this rhyme

Would you like to be mine?

Medic’

Their face red and their heart racing, two things came to mind for [y/n]:

1. Medic reciprocated their feelings (and definitely read the letters and poems if it meant sending a poem of the same fashion back)

2. He didn’t fuck up the rhyme. Legit he rhymed.

[tricktster]

Hey, while The Letter is still the subject of like every ask I’m getting, I want to highlight an important point that I neglected to address in my Guide to Writing a Fuck You Letter. (As a  refresher, when I say “Fuck You letter,” I’m really talking about a letter directed to another person that is written in response to that person’s bad/wrongful act. In the Fuck You letter, you explain exactly why that person’s act was bad or wrongful, and then you explain the potential negative outcomes  that the actor should expect as a result of their bad act, in order of escalating severity.) 

If you want to convince someone to take a specific course of action, a Fuck You letter is not your best vehicle to accomplish that goal. Sure, once in a while, someone will get so spooked by a Fuck You letter that they’ll give you what you want, but the purpose of a Fuck You letter isn’t to get someone to agree with you, it’s to back your opponent into a corner in order to provoke a stupid reaction. 

See, it’s not unusual that I have to indulge in some tactful exaggerating when I am describing the bad outcomes that a Fuck You letter recipient can anticipate, because, in my experience, people are usually aware on some level that the bad act they’re doing is something that they can get in trouble for. They don’t want to get in trouble, so they cover their tracks to make it harder for anyone to prove that their act was motivated by bad intent.

Example (with the same caveat as before, this example has nothing to do with the varietal of Fuck You letter that I write): Pregnant people who are fired by their employers because they become pregnant. I can only speak for the USA, but I understand that it is (generally) illegal here to fire someone because they are pregnant - and yet! It happens all the fucking time! Some employers will come right out and say “we’re firing you because you’re pregnant” (especially if they’re firing a low wage employee per this article) but sometimes the employer will use some pretext to fire the pregnant employee - maybe they’re told during their firing meeting that it’s not because they’re pregnant, it’s deeeefinitely because they were two minutes late eight months ago. You get it; obvious bullshit, but it’s not like the employer wrote a letter saying “You’re fired because your pregnant.” The employer did a bad thing, but it’s going to be tougher for the employee to prove. 

This is where the Fuck You letter shines, because you’re going to write it and outline the consequences to the employer for their bad act under the pretext that you can already indisputably prove that the employee was fired because of her pregnancy. In other words, you gotta bullshit. Then, and this is my favorite part, you sit back and watch what happens. If they give you the type of response you’re looking for, that’s awesome, but it’s way more likely that they’re going to respond with the time honored technique of Reacting Defensively and Making a Mistake (Preferably in Writing). People are fucking awful at recognizing their own wrongdoing, everyone’s the hero of their own story etc. etc. You give them a Fuck You letter, and a lot of the time, you get a furious response from the actor that’s intended to justify and explain away the bad act. If you’ve done your job right, they can’t just ignore the letter; they know you’re going to do Something Bad to them if you don’t hear back, and they will righteously show you that they are a Good Person who does not deserve Something Bad happening to them! Sometimes they’ll also threaten you in return, which is *chef kiss* the best. 

So, extending our hypothetical, maybe the employer responds by writing, “As we discussed at the time of your firing, [Employee] you were fired because [excuse]. If you keep lying about what happened, I will have no choice to inform your new employer that you were suspected of [embezzling or whatever, you get the picture]. “

Getting a response like that from the employer might not sound like a good outcome, but it really fucking is, because now you’ve forced the employer into committing to one excuse for why the employee was fired. The employer suddenly is in a way worse position, because he’s going to need to find proof to support his false justification for the firing, which will be pretty hard to come by, since, you know, lying. Likewise, now that he’s committed to a lie, all you have to do is start poking holes in it. And if you can figure out how to get him in deeper trouble for the threat he made in response to your letter, well, golly gosh is that asshole ever double-fucked.  

The Fuck You letter serves an important purpose, and it’s not “forcing someone to correct their wrong.” You write a persuasive letter if you want to coax someone into doing the right thing. The Fuck You letter’s purpose is to goad someone into doing something so indisputably wrong that they they can’t weasel out of it. 

While we’re on the subject, I’m going to share the best fucking explanation of  how to write persuasively that I’ve ever encountered. It’s from Year of the Griffin by Diana Wynne Jones. It’s a fantasy novel about a bunch of students essentially agitating for an improved curriculum at their University. I know that sounds fucking awful, but DWJ was a hell of a writer, and this book has informed my life in a huge way by giving me this gift of a passage, which runs through my mind every single time I have to write something that will convince someone to see things my way.  

“[The professor] was determined to skim Ruskin’s essay. But it was impossible. Ruskin was a dwarf, used to working with intricate things, and his argument was like chain mail, forged link by link. He put out a suggestion. He followed that with obvious things that led from it—things you were forced to agree to—and then he went one stage further and Wham! you were agreeing to something that was quite unheard of. Then Ruskin took the unheard-of idea and did the same to that. Wham. A new mad idea. Around and around the links Corkoran went, up and through and wham! through the first twenty pages. By this time he found he was humbly agreeing to a complete reorganization of the University syllabus, with theory and practical being taught together, to give more space for hugely advanced theory, and the first-year course beginning where the third year’s left off;”

[missdawnandherdusk]

Life Update

It’s me, your humble author, here for a little update. 

My last fic seemed to hit hard with some of you, whether it was empathetic or sympathetic, I’ve seen your responses to it. And I know that some of you are concerned, and I love that I mean so much to you that you’re willing to reach out. It’s a sweet feeling that makes me smile and gives me an affirmation with each message. 

And right now, I really am trying to figure out how I feel about my recent breakup. I know that I don’t want to go back to him. And sifting through the memories brings back some more somber moments and somber thoughts, like the ones you read in Together in Paris. 

It’s been hard for me, yes. And maybe I can share some of it with you. Maybe writing it out will make me feel better, or feel something. I know I have a habit of going numb and avoiding things that might hurt me, but I think it’s time I open my heart up a bit, and I feel safe with you all. 

It’s true. He was supposed to be my happily ever after. He was my prince charming who came to save me from an awful home life, terrible mental health, and well, just about everything else. For a long time I believed that he was my forever. My Edward, my Wesley, my Winchester, my Chat Noir, my Captain America, my guardian angel, my soulmate. The little girl inside of me who craved being saved had found her savior and she loved him with all of her heart. There was no one who knew me better for a long time. Though every heartache he was there. When friends turned and walked out on me, when I had tough decisions to make, when I needed someone to lean on, he was there. He was my everything. 

And I gave up so many things. I compromised so many times just to keep him. Things that I’ll never get back. I never stole his sweatshirts because he didn’t own any. We never had a song, he rarely liked my taste in music. I never got flowers, or romantic dates. I had to plan them all, if I wanted it, I had to tell him. There was no dancing at prom, no claim of highschool sweethearts, no nights looking up at the stars. No cute photos at holidays. I lost all of the little things for the sake of a savior. 

And I think that’s what wore away at my heart the most. What could have been, what should have been, if he cared a little more. Words only got so far. “Of course I love you,” “I’ll try harder,” “I’m not good at this kinda stuff,” “I don’t care,” They were empty promises piled up on top of the promise of forever. 

And even though I was with him, I started to define myself, and I liked that he was apart of my definition, but he wasn’t the entire definition anymore. But that’s all I was to him. I was on a pedestal to him. And I wanted off, desperately. But he refused.  

 Everything he did, he claimed to do for me, then complained about how it drained him. He’d work non stop for money to go to school for me, then complain about his day or refuse to get proper sleep. And I’d tell him to sleep, to take care of himself, and he didn’t. He said he couldn’t. And it’s hard watching someone self destruct while you’re desperately telling them to get help, to listen, to do something different. Anything different. 

And that hurt. A lot. It hurt watching him cling to a shadow of me and say he loved me again and again and I couldn’t say it back. I couldn’t believe him anymore. He didn’t love me. He loved the idol. 

And he never listened. That’s what killed me. When we fought, when I tried to tell him where he was going wrong, when I tried to help him, he’d get mopey and “woe is me” and victimize himself to a point where I felt backed into a corner. Where I didn’t want to talk to him because he was only interested in hearing “I love you” or complaining to me. He didn’t want to know about my day. He didn’t care what music captured my heart. 

He never read my writing. 

Maybe once, he did a few years ago. But I can assure you that I’ve gotten “later” from him for about a year. A “later” that never came. And that hurt a lot. I pour my heart out into my writing. It’s a world that I can create and destroy if I want to and I love my worlds, I love my writings, and he never read them. He never cared. He made excuses. And he was also manipulative with it because one of the only writings that he read of mine from this blog is my ace headcanon list, then proceeded to yell at me and gaslight me for writing it making me feel bad because he had reacted wrong and golly gee I’m Mad and Hurt So after a while, I just stopped trying.

And it was sad, because he never noticed that I stopped trying. He probably thought that I was being complaint. Another compromise. 

And I came to the realization that I didn’t want to share my life with him because he didn’t want to be in my life. He wanted my love and affection and the security that I offered. 

He knew it was wrong. He told me he knew. Again and again he said he’d change. He’d get better, he’d keep trying. And trying. And... not trying. He never changed. He never kept that promise. 

And that kills me too. 

I wrote “there are songs about the ones who got away, but they never ask her why she left, do they?” 

This is why I had to leave.

Because I’m not a fighter. I’m a pacifist. I’ll go in peace without a word. Without an argument. A clean break. I can go and never tell my side of the story. I’m okay with rumors about me because I know who I am on the inside. And I’ve worked damn hard for that and I’m proud of it. 

But no one knows any of this. And he’ll never see this because he’ll try to turn it back on me. 

So, I’ve made a clean break for it. I’ve blocked him on social media and on here. I don’t want to try to fit him into my life anymore because it was exhausting. And I never knew how tired it made me until he was gone. 

So yes, it hurts. It hurts because I thought I had found my everything. I was convinced that I had, and he let me down. He let me down and he refused to accept that and he refused to ever let me believe that. It hurts because I gave up so many things for him and now I can never get them back. And that hurts. It really does. 

And right now, I have to disassociate him from my series, because those are the stories of us. And they’re supposed to have happy endings and a man who stays and changes for the better but I have no idea how to write that now, because it didn’t happen to me. So please, don’t expect me to figure out how to finish those series because I have no idea what to do now. I’m scared and alone without a prince charming for the first time in my life and writing career and it’s terrifying. And I know you all love them, I do, but I can’t do it. I don’t know how to do it. I don’t know how to give you a happily ever after because my was torn from me by the one who promised it to me. 

And that hurts the most. 

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[emsvegetables]

Could you do #21 on the prompt list with the Karasuno third years with a black girlfriend who’s like constantly straightening her hair because it never works out natural and they visit her on like a weekend without notice and she has her hair all curly from the shower and she’s freaking out about it? Sorry it’s so specific I just love all three of those boys and I wanna see more writing for them! By the way I love your writing for Asahi it makes me uwu 🥺

“Could you do #21 on the prompt list with the Karasuno third years with a black girlfriend who’s like constantly straightening her hair because it never works out natural and they visit her on like a weekend without notice and she has her hair all curly from the shower and she’s freaking out about it? Sorry it’s so specific I just love all three of those boys and I wanna see more writing for them! By the way I love your writing for Asahi it makes me uwu 🥺”

oh golly HI @lilluna010 THANK YOU!!!!!! hope you like it!!!! also i’m not black, so i apologise if i write anything wrongly or portray anything wrongly!!!! if i offend anyone, please do pm me and i’ll change what i did wrongly!!!!!

i’m going to do this req in hc format, i hope that’s alright :3!

Daichi:

* okay he probably pops into your house bc he bought some food and wants you to have some.

* so when he opens the door to your apartment (you gave him keys bc u completely trust him 🥺), he doesn’t see you anywhere in the living room, and he hears the shower running in the bathroom, so he’s like...ah. she’s bathing.

* tbh he wants to JOIN you but LALALALA

* so then he just plops down onto your sofa, and helps you to clean your coffee table and stow the magazines strewn over the table neatly back into the drawers.

* okay so that���s when you finish your bath, and you open the bathroom door to meet Daichi’s widened eyes and you scream.

* “SAWA? WHAT ARE YOU DOING HERE?????”

* “(Y/N), didn’t you hear me come in?”

* then you realise he’s looking at your hair and you suddenly feel a little self-conscious and quickly take your tower to wrap around it.

* “hey, what’s wrong? why you covering your hair up?”

* “it’s all frizzy and puffy, i don’t think it looks nice.”

* then he’s frowning at you and moving closer, and he’s gently removing the towel from your hair and smiling down at you.

* “i don’t care how you look, (Y/N), you’re so pretty and i think your hair looks super good like this!”

* okay from then onwards he’s always complimenting you on your hair bc he doesn’t want you to feel insecure of yourself!!!!!

Sugawara:

* okay he probably just passed by your house and was like...HEY I HAVE FREE TIME LETS VISIT MY GIRLFRIEND.

* then when he opens the keypad to your apartment (you tell him the password bc you trust him🥺🥺), he realises that you’re not in the living room??????

* so he goes into your room, and you’re not there either?????

* “(Y/N)! i’m here! where are you???”

* then he walks by the bathroom and hears the shower running, and he’s like...oh...she’s bathing.

* so he just sits down quietly on the couch, and he’s looking through a book that you opened on the couch and reading it.

* you did NOT hear Sugawara at all, tbh!!!! you were dancing in the shower to your favourite shower song and you didn’t hear him call out for you either.

* so when you step out, and meet Sugawara’s smiling face at the couch, you flinch back.

* “KOSHI????”

* then you notice that’s he’s striding towards you and he’s smiling super widely at you.

* you flinch back when he reaches a hand out to brush your face, bc that’s when you rmb your hair isn’t straightened!!!!! you just came out of the shower!!!!!!

* “hey, you have curls! they look so cute,” he’s saying, and he’s reaching forward to twirl a finger in your hair.

* “y-you don’t think it’s puffy?”

* that’s when Sugawara frowns at you.

* “why would i? sweetheart, it’s gorgeous! your hair looks amazing on you!”

* when he sees your face still look unconvinced, he’s pressing a soft kiss on your forehead.

* “(Y/N), i don’t care how you look, because you’re beautiful in ANYTHING.”

* so from now on Sugawara makes it a point to always run his fingers through your hair and tell you that you look amazing!!!! BC YOU DO!!!!!!!

Asahi:

* okay he probably came over bc his mom made food, and he decided to bring some over to share with you!!!!! baby :”)

* he’s very confused when he unlocks the door to your apartment (he has keys bc you gave them to him!!! 🥺🥺🥺🥺), and notices that you’re nowhere in sight?

* like your shoes were outside the house, so where could you be?

* so he’s putting the food down on the dining table and going on his quest in search for you!!!!!!

* then he realises that you’re in the shower!!! so he’s like. okay, i’ll just wait for her.

* so he plops down onto a chair by the dining table and waits patiently.

* and when you come out of the shower, HE screams.

* “(Y/N)?????”

* “AZU??? SINCE WHEN WERE YOU HERE?”

* “(Y/N)...your hair!!!!”

* so obviously your feelings are kinda hurt, and you bring up a hand to run through them in an effort to straighten them.

* “they’re too frizzy, right?”

* “WHAT?” he instantly says,” NONONONONONONONO!!!!”

* ?????

* “you look so pretty!!!! (Y/N) i never seen your hair like this before!!!!!!”

* so when u quietly mumble that you always straighten it cause it’s always puffy, he’s so confused.

* bc you look so beautiful!!!!

* SO ETHEREAL!!!!!!

* goddess level.

* “Azu, it’s okay to say my hair looks bad,” you say after a short silence.

* “NO (Y/N)!!!!!!! YOU’RE SO PRETTY!!!!!”

* and after he pulls you into a hug, he’s looking down at you with a smile.

* “hey,” he says,” i don’t care how you look, okay? you could be wearing a trash bag and i would still love you, because i love you for YOU, not how you look!!!!!”

* he reminds himself all the time to tell you it’s okay to not straighten your hair if you want to!!!!

* he loves your hair!!!!!!!

hi!!! i hope this way okay!!! once again, i apologise sincerely if i wrote anything wrongly and offended anyone. do pm me if i did anything wrongly and i’ll change it immediately!!!!!

requests are OPENED!!!! shoot me anything :)!

[thewreckkelly]

Watch "Could Only Happen In Ireland" on YouTube

GOOD GOLLY IT’S DOLLY (My Mother Myself) 

I love my Mum – loved her when I was under her care, loved her throughout my independence, love her now she’s in someone else’s care. Of course I’m aware such maternal love is by no means exclusive and undoubtedly, while the expression of such love tends to soften with distance and age, it remains an emotional bond that is a true unbreakable.

Recently I’ve been helping a florist – who also happens to be a great friend - with an online marketing campaign for ‘Mothers Day’ and, (during the course of concocting and plagiarising four line sentiments and graphic displays of floral fawning) , got to thinking of my Mum and what we have shared throughout a lifetime of mutual love.

A strange highlight dominated my walk through that particular past!

-o- 

The year was 1980 (I think) and I was slowly ridding myself of the adolescent petulance properly associated with teenage angst while also - willingly and without excuse or apology – continuing to embrace the evolutionary revolutionary mindset of ‘Punk’.

Don’t get me wrong I had never fallen into the ‘Mohawk’, ‘Piercings’, ‘Gobbing’, ‘Pogoing’ or ‘Safety Pin’ syndrome - not this good Catholic boy. It was more than enough for me that the freedom of expression associated with the genre felt ridiculously  inspirational and challenging in its raw depth – ‘Never Mind the Bollox’ proving a universally perfect mantra of how to be young in that very beneficial yet restrictive first world of change and changelings.

My Mum was the polar opposite in her musical taste and, (with a small ‘c’), conservative view of people, society and trends. Perry Como was more her cup of tea than the subversive Sinatra or Elvis while country music provided the stories of life she could relate to. Her idea of rocking out was to blare the Ray Conniff’ big band singers through my Da’s good stereo speakers on Sunday mornings - after mass - while letting go of any dancing inhibitions as she prepared the traditional roast.

The funny thing is; I sort of liked her music – without ever admitting such a ‘terrible’ thing to my friends and so called musical peers of course. There is an argument I liked the stuff she liked in much the same way liking anything that defines a good person has a habit of doing, but I don’t believe that was the reason.

I was too young and self-obsessed to understand that all was not simple and simple was, most certainly, not all – yet somehow aware enough to know without really knowing. Later I would realise my Mum had a terrific universal ear for much of what was good and great but back then ...... well .......

My Mum’s life, at the time, was neat and tidy by design - honed from a lifetime of consideration for others and struggle against an incomplete education, social gender relegation and being without too often. Mine was naturally a mess - a snap semi considered series of decisions and influences borne out of immediacy and yearning coloured by arrogance and naivety – a rebel searching for a ‘because’ if you like.

I had spent the summer just gone in London immersing myself in a musical and literary culture that was maturing from the raucous irregular  nature of punk and had taken in lots of pub and small venue gigs that ranged in influence from ‘The Jam’ to ‘Elvis Costello’ to ‘John Cooper Clarke’ to ‘Jimmy Pursey’ to ‘Billy Bragg’ to 'Kafka' to 'Tom Wolfe' to 'Philip Larkin' .

It was my coming of age moment when all of such seemed terribly exciting and dangerous to the person I was and surely massively influential in opening up my, (up till then), purposely covert disdain for authority and establishment

In the autumn of that year, weighed down by the morass of all such personal contradictions, I secured two front row seats for a Country & Western show at the RDS - with some degree of trepidation – to treat and play chaperone to my Mum, who was a big fan and unlikely - at that time - to actually enjoy or have the opportunity to avail of such an occasion.

And so it came to pass the two of us left the semi in the suburbs and drove to a monolith in the better part of town to see Dolly Parton do her thing.

-o- 

The Royal Dublin Showgrounds in Ballsbridge, Dublin, was, and probably still is, a throwback statement in architecture and class driven membership designed to promote and embrace all of what was good from the Protestant protectorate time of Victoria - while actually succeeding in highlighting much of what was insidious about those whom believed in a realm upon which the sun would never be expected to set. A venue where aspiring middle-class Dubliners and those beyond the pale could, on occasion, sample and digest possibilities their betters expected them to aspire to but rarely achieve.

The entrance to the RDS is signature and a facade of understated power – inviting and intimidating in measure and construction. I hadn’t been in the exhibition hall before and was hugely underwhelmed by its ordinariness, the starkness of the concrete floors and rows of institutional collapsible chairs set out in slightly skewed rows. The room was cavernous, very bright with a stage that looked more suited to a communist political convention than a glitzy C&W extravaganza.

Mum was dressed to the nines, which had worried me slightly to begin with only for such fear to rapidly evaporate upon arrival - it was twenty year old me, dressed as conservatively as I could allow in Wrangler jeans, Polo shirt and black suit jacket, that looked out of place among the throngs of Sunday best middle aged men and women taking their seats in an excited, orderly and happy manner. I felt like the proverbial fish out of water and had to reach deep to marry myself to my Mother’s mounting excitement and sense of occasion.

The support act that night was a solo artist called Kevin Johnson. Here I was on relatively safe ground as his big song was; ‘Rock & Roll I Gave You All the Best Years of My Life’ to which I knew all the lyrics and felt some level of identification with. He was a good competent performer with the troubadour’s presence and I remember being impressed at his professionalism along with enjoying the Americana folksiness of the set. I relaxed a touch and, when he finished off with that song, felt at least I’d got my money’s worth and anything else would be a bonus.

A sense of fervent excitement in the hall grew as we waited for the headliner and, to a point, became infectious. I genuinely had no idea what to expect and the sense of expectation bordering on privilege emanating from this packed venue caused me to doubt any possibly disingenuous pre-conceptions I had inwardly held since I’d bought the tickets and surprised Mum.

The lights went down, the band silently took to the stage as shadows. A fanfare of guitars, fiddle, bass and drums in galloping beat broke the deafening silence of the seated audience and then .......

‘GOOD GOLLY IT’S DOLLY’ issued forth from a disembodied deep male voice - in the pronounced accent of a Southern American State - to rapturous applause.

A spotlight broke the darkness and concentrated its stardust on the wings from which a tiny giant bounded and danced her way to centre stage with more energy than Sellafield.

Clad in a very revealing figure hugging silver diamantes laden dress, sporting perfect make-up on cheeky cultured facial features pronounced with ruby red lipstick – all artistically framed by an abundance of perfectly coffered Dixie blonde tresses.

This would be first lady of country music lit the auditorium miles beyond the ability of mere electricity.... Oh yes Ms Dolly Parton made an entrance you couldn’t beat with a stick.

The show is a blur – I do remember her doing ‘Applejack’ on the banjo, with ridiculous big painted nails not being a bother at all – and the best I can actually recall for the most part is before you could wail ‘Jolene’  I found myself cheering, clapping, dancing and singing along with songs I didn’t know in the company of equally uninhibited people I didn’t know and wising the show would never end. This was new to me; this was a living example of the best at what they do, doing it for me along with everyone else and delivering on every level.

The famous composer of melodies, Thomas Moore, once wrote:

‘And the best works of nature can only improve – when we see them reflected in looks that we love’ 

When Dolly caused us all to settle down, mid set, and invited each and every one present to relive a childhood memory of Motherly love with her soft ballad; ‘Coat of Many Colours’, I glanced smilingly at my Mum and her returned look allowed an understanding of exactly what Tom Moore was getting at.

Thanks for giving me Dolly Mum, (I’ve held on to her ever since), and, of course, all the rest of the other stuff.

Happy Mother’s Day

[typinggently]

I suppose the most important question is how feral, on a scale of one to buckwild feral, would Bruce go if Clark DID have a tentacle dick or some other. Alien anatomy. Because I feel like the range would be incredibly high and extremely filthy.

Anon I’m so glad you asked because I’ve been thinking about this for weeks now

I even had a post in my drafts that your post reminded me of it even though it’s super tame in comparison to what this answer here is going to be.

-

Firstly, to answer your question: He’d lose it.

Now, for a more in-depth approach:

Feral Bruce and his Alien Boyfriend

-

Warning, and I cannot stress this enough: Alien cocks to be discussed below. Also just. Nastiness.

-

I have to start by once again saying that Bruce is a freak. He already owns Alien Dildos before he even meets Clark. So when sweet sunshine Clark shyly hints that he has some anatomical differences to humans, Bruce, who fucked himself with the ribbed Purple Star Destroyer XXL glow in the dark limited edition just this morning, gives him a blank stare, mentally hyperventilating.

Now, the thing is: Imo, Clark fucks. Blame it on the bathtub scene in BvS (shameful confession: I…actually didn’t see BvS bc I am really bad at remembering to watch films but I know it happens and I’m thankful), but I think “regular” Clark gets a fair share. He’s no Brucie, but he enjoys human interaction, i.e. cute little dates where he shows them the farm and then playfully fucks them in the barn. It’s been mentioned, we know what’s up. But I do think alien anatomy!Clark would be a tad shy about the “issue”. We can either go with the narrative that he’s never trusted anyone enough to reveal that part of himself (cute, romantic) and instead just really likes to give head, all “No, no, it’s fine, I just want to make you feel good”, wet chin, glassy-eyed and flushed, turned on to the point of shaking but holding back (hot).

Or maybe he had penetrative sex with one (1) other person, which was also very sweet and fumbling and cutesy-romantic.

-

Either way. Either way, none of that compares to the way Bruce just silently vibrates with his “wow ok finally that’s great news I can’t wait to get railed hard by your alien cock(s)” energy. Like. That’s  e n t h u s i a s m.

But! BUT! Clark doesn’t really know that yet. Because Bruce, A Bat of Science, goes “Interesting, fascinating, I would very much like a sample of your reproductive fluids to run some tests if that’s alright.”

So Clark, who respects science, goes “oh yes sure of course I can do that”

(Intermezzo: Does he take the little cup and goes to jerk off somewhere in private or does Bruce help?? The self-control it would take to come face-to-face with the object of desire (alien cock) and not take action would be immense. But also if he doesn’t, Clark might think Bruce is purely scientific in his interest so what is to follow will be extra nice and surprising)

(To be extra nasty: Bruce has SUCH a hard time with that sample because !! oh wow!! Clark’s come in a fancy little cup! The urge to guzzle it down…very prominent.)

A few days later, Clark gets a call from Bruce all “Test are done and you need to come over right now”. Worrying. So he drops whatever he’s doing and comes over. And oh boy. Clark has never, never seen Bruce in such a state of ferity. Wild eyes, flushed cheeks, practically vibrating. So he’s all “Oh boy oh golly am I poisonous what’s going on” but Bruce is in his space before he can even properly finish that. Between the tongue in his mouth and the hand in his hair and the other hand under his shirt, Clark manages to ask what the heck’s going on, and Bruce is all “Your sperm is perfectly safe for consumption. Come on, I need it.” Tearing at Clark’s shirt, one hand already between Clark’s thighs, greedily feeling him up through the thick material of his jeans. That’s  e n t h u s i a s m.

-

NOW!!! What does Clark’s alien cock look like???

Tentacles are like. Classy. I wish I could name my favoruite but..I FORGOT the TITLE and it’s super frustrating and I’m super sorry. Still. Tentacles can be very nice.

What I came up with at some point was this: forked. That is to say. Two cocks. Ribbed, with the ribs (..?) pulsing when Clark is in a state of great arousal. Slightly warmer to the touch than one would anticipate.

Also: “Showers of Blessing” by FabulaRasa tackles the idea of like. Massive amounts of come. It’s super nsfw and it’s really nice. Maybe we’re not thinking quite THIS much. But. A lot of come.(I can’t link it without risking that the entire post gets swallowed up, even though I’m not sure I would want anyone to find this tbh tbh tbh)

-

So if we go with the “I had sex with someone very dear to me once” thing, they 100% only “used” one of the available options for penetration. If it’s tentacles, I doubt penetration actually happened. (Flushed, touch-starved Clark overwhelmed that someone is touching him at all, helplessly bucking into the hand of his puppy love with his love-drunk tentacles all wiggly and thrilled to be touched… nice.)

What I’m getting at is that Clark is just not prepared for someone to go “Ok I’m going to take all of this in one go actually”

Bruce is an all-or-nothing, straight into the deep end type of guy to begin with. But lust-drunk Bruce? He’s a mess. He’s got the determination to stroke and suck on whatever he can get his mouth and hands on. Clark is a little worried that he’ll unhinge his jaw in his enthusiasm. Not that Clark has much capacity for worry left when he has the visuals of Bruce between his legs, flushed and messy, drooling all over himself as he attempts to shove two cocks down his throat.

As established, alien anatomy!Clark hasn’t had that many sexual encounters and certainly never one that actually fulfilled all of his needs. But Clark still has a very potent sex drive. And he’s just now experiencing how good sex actually feels. So -Bruce is not the only one going a little mad.

So when Bruce’s completely blissed out, stuffed to the brim with alien cock, Clark loses it a little, too, and fucks him to pieces. He still has some grasp on his strength, of course, but it’s slipping ever so slightly. Overwhelmed as he is, he jackhammers Bruce into the bed, possibly breaking it in the process. Absolutely overwhelmed with the soft heat of Bruce, with his hitched little moans and his flushed-dripping cock.

The orgasms are intense. Petit Mort is the right word. Clark’s panting. He’s sweating. Bruce, meanwhile, is a complete, blissed out mess, overstimulated and boneless, sucking bruises into Clark’s neck lazily while he waits for the high to pass. Truly sated.

-

Very compatible. Absolute messes.

-

End notes: Uh? I hope this somewhat answers your question. I feel like I escalated a little. Thank you so much for joining me on that trip to filth town ;^; (I wrote this in 1.5 hours instead of doing uni work…)

[anarchist-billy]

hi sweet pal! yeah I'm super new to the fandom so I've just been recced a bunch of 'classic' fics if you get my drift so they're pretty much all bottom steve, ain't nothing with that but bottom billy is just so delicious to me! you mentioned a fic rec list? yes please thank youuuu!!!

Hello, darling! First of all - WELCOME to the Harringrove fandom! I’m so excited you’re here to add to this incredible group of people in this wonderful, wild fandom of ours! 🖤

I’ll admit, I am not as well-read as some other folks around these parts, but I am the absolute madman that decided to head up the Harringrove Library project, so I do have access to a lengthy list of fics. Huge shoutout to all my cohorts who have been logging away with me for the last…Jesus….Six months? Yikes. We’ll get the blog live eventually, I promise!

Anyway…suffice all that to say, this is by no means an extensive list, merely a little smorgasbord of fics I could find that have been labeled as Bottom!Billy.

Ride the Lightning by @womenseemwicked - 11k

Billy takes Steve to a concert in Indianapolis. Steve does his damn best to fit in. His best is still preppy as shit.

you should find your way home (i’ll be at your front door) by @lucybrown45 - 10k

Billy’s California is not what Steve expects, but it’s good. It’s what he needs. For once he feels like he’s in the right place at the right time.

so this one I read some time ago, and I’m like 93% sure it’s just bottom!Billy, but don’t hold me to it if it ends up being verse. Either way, it’s such a good fic and definitely worth a read imho.

One Wild Night by KittyleFay - 8k

Upon discovering that Steve likes boys, Billy offers to take him to a gay bar on the edge of town to get him laid. There’s one problem: Billy keeps cock-blocking Steve.

It’s Not a One Way Street by im_your_hope - 6k

Sometimes the most real things in the world are the things we can’t see.

(“Get warm, you fucker,” he whispers aggressively in Billy’s ear.)

This one features one of my favorite tropes - cuddling for warmth. ;)

We’re a Thousand Miles from Comfort (But There’s No Place I’d Rather Be) by HobbitSpaceCase - 5k

Insomnia and too many bad memories send Steve out looking for something to take his mind off his lonely life. What he finds is Billy Hargrove, a mysterious substance in the woods, and the fulfillment of his most deeply buried fantasies.

A Man After Midnight by moonflowers - 4k

When Steve first spotted him, Macho Man was, somewhat ironically, blasting out over the speakers. The dress was electric blue, and probably a little more eighties than seventies, but Steve wasn’t about to nitpick.

Honey Whiskey by quinnvicious - 4k

When they get to a point where they can just barely hear the thumping of the music over the chirping crickets, Billy’s serious expression cracks and he bursts out laughing like a drunken, deranged hyena. Steve can’t help but join in, and then they’re both giggling and stumbling around the forest like idiots. Steve bumps into him to snatch the bottle of whiskey from his fist and takes a burning swallow. It warms his blood too much in the balm of the edge-of-summer night and he drags the back of a hand over his mouth with a ragged sound before passing it back. Billy snickers at his expense and fishes a cigarette out of his pack.

Up Is Down and Down Is Up by dragonspell - 4k

A few short weeks ago, Steve would never have guessed in a million years that he would find himself here, watching Billy Hargrove fight back the urge to come just because Steve’s inside him. The thought would have been ludicrous; the idea of Billy in Steve’s bed absurd. And yet here they are, Billy pretending that he’s on a date with some girl while parking a few blocks down from Steve’s house. When Steve’s parents are home, he sneaks in through the window, but tonight, he’d used the front door.

(Or, a flimsy excuse to write Harringrove porn)

You love this, you need it. by Anonymous - 4k

Billy and Steve have a little dom and sub relationship. It helps billy when he needs to let go.

Plastic Bruises by spaceagelovesong - 3.5k

“slap bracelets,” billy repeats. “sounds like some kinky shit to me—“ he breaks off into another laugh.

steve practically glows. he loves seeing billy laugh. it’s scary, but, like, in a sexy way.

“you want me to get kinky,” steve says, in his best billy voice. “we can get kinky.”

Whoever logged this for the library put in the notes “If anyone has a snap bracelet fetish, do I have the fic for you…” lol

Lucky You by retoxification - 3.5k

All that Billy really wants in life is his hot boyfriend to fuck him until he can’t think.

That’s it, that’s the plot.

Fresh Blood by @sightetsound - 3k

Never had a lap-dance before,” Steve replied impishly.

The intensity of Billy’s stare wiped Steve’s grin clean off his face.

“You want a lap-dance so bad, I’ll give you one.

Anniversary by spaceagelovesong - 2k

billy hargrove knows how to fuck, but steve harrington knows how to make love.

it’s been about a year, but neither of them are counting. after all, every night together is a celebration.

we love making (whispers) by pally (palliris) - 2k

Steve loves breaking Billy apart; loves being torn apart, himself.

Sore by @womenseemwicked - 1.5k

Sometimes Billy works out too hard and can hardly move the next day. Lucky he has Steve to take care of him then.

And now…Not sure if A/B/O is your thing, but I figured I’d include two fics that are Omega!Billy, just in case. ;) I love both of these fics a lot and they’re hot as heck.

Heatstroke by HobbitSpaceCase - 8k

Billy is out of suppressants and going into Heat. Steve finds him. It’s too bad Billy can’t have this every time.

Don’t Belong To Anyone (Else) by @sparkleeye - 30k

Billy is a stubborn idiot and goes to school during his heat.

Honorable Mention: Those American Thighs by tracy7307 - 1.5k

He placed his hands on the tops of Billy’s golden thighs – spread his fingers apart and rubbed from his knees up, up, until his fingertips dipped under the legs of Billy’s shorts. The hair rasped under his hands. His thighs were still a bit slick from that suntan oil that Billy loved to use and from the sweat of working outdoors on a summer day.

This one isn’t Bottom!Billy per se, as it’s intercrural, but it’s Billy’s thighs that are being fucked and gosh golly it is HOT. I’m kinda obsessed with it. So it gets a shoutout here.

I also found a couple Tumblr drabbles buried in my reblogs for you:

Prompt fill by @trashmouse

Prompt fill by thebeautyinchains

And here’s a post/drabble I forgot I wrote about some first time Bottom!Billy. ;)

Finally, I will leave you with this art piece I found in my hunt by @delphineygt. I think most of the Sexy fanart has been banished from tungl dot com at this point, but this gem survived and I’m so happy about it so I wanted to share.

Anyway, that’s all I’ve got to offer for now. Happy reading, friend! 🤗

[zacekova]

Fanfic Authors Tag Game

Tagged by @thelionshymnal​

Ao3 Name: zacekova

Fandom(s): Umm, I read for a lot more fandoms than I write. But most of what I write has been for Tsubasa Reservoir Chronicle, Akagami no Shirayukihime, and Voltron. And I’m currently working on fics for Katekyou Hitman Reborn, Mo Dao Zu Shi, and Voltron

Number of fics: 72

Fic you spent the most time on: Hmmm... I don’t actually track hours of work, so I’m not sure. It’s probably either Whitewaters or Home Isn’t a Place. The former was outlined, drafted, edited, and posted within 8 months, and the last few weeks were brutal, literally half of my day almost every day could be spent working on it. Home Isn’t A Place doesn’t have nearly the same published word count, but I’ve been working on it on and off since I got the idea in November 2018. And it has a lot of background info written and a very thorough outline. 

Fic you spent the least time on: I have to assume Selfish Intentions since it was one of those “put on a song and write what comes to mind” things and what’s published is what I got down within the 7 minutes of song (with a few extra minutes to proofread). 

Longest fic: Whitewaters -- 58k words (Voltron | Shirocest) 

Shortest fic: Selfish Intentions -- 253 words (Captain Harlock | Introspection) 

Most hits: Every Hour Has Come To This -- 11,220 hits   (48k | MCU - Stony | Post-Avengers)  (I’m linking to it, even though it’s an old fic and really needs some editing. A lot of editing...)

Most kudos: Show Me Your Scars -- 861 kudos (1.6k | Voltron - Shance | Soulmate-Identifying Marks) 

Most comment threads: Every Hour Has Come To This, again, with 112 total comments, 56 comment threads

Fave fic you wrote: Oh that’s definitely Rest For the Weary (Tsubasa Chronicle - Kurofai | 9k | Nihon Country). I set out to write exactly the kind of fic I’d wanted for that arc and by golly I did it and, for once, I did it really well. I’ve re-read it at least half-a-dozen times since finishing it and it’s still everything I’d wanted it to be. 

Fic you want to rewrite/expand on: Well I still need to finish Home Isn’t a Place (Voltron - Thulaz | Historical Fantasy | 19k), but that’s not quite the same thing. The Phoenix and the Komainu (Tsubasa Chronicle - Kurofai | AU | 26k) is also unfinished, but I’d like to start basically from scratch, rewrite the whole thing and do it better. And, you know, have a decent outline so I have a hope of finishing. That’s like, a backburner goal. Hopefully I’ll get to it eventually. 

Share a bit of your WIP or share a story idea that you’re planning: Let’s go with a snippet of my final KHR prompt request, which will be an R27 college AU: 

Tsuna’s never seen the guy before because Tsuna usually sits at the back of the hall in a seat right by the exit and then bolts the moment class is over to sprint all the way across campus for his next lecture. He's only heard the rumors, the complaints, the gossip around campus.

What he knows is this: 

TAs don’t often get their own articles on ratemyproffessor.com, since they’re just TAs, but Reborn, apparently, has practically broken the system by gaining the second-highest number of reviews of any professor in the entire state, which is even more impressive when you find out he’s only been a TA for the head of the math department for two years. 

Every single review (once you filter out the attractiveness category, anyway) is a zero.

Tagging: @wichols​ @kalira9​ @ptw30​ @ashinan​ @bosstoaster​

[365daysofsasuhina]

[ 365 Days of SasuHina || Day Three Hundred Forty-Four: On an Island ] [ Uchiha Sasuke, Hyūga Hinata, Hoshigaki Kisame ] [ SasuHina ] [ Verse: Blue Waves and Black Flags ] [ AO3 Link ]

What else is an orphan lad of an island nation to do but become a pirate?

Hanging from a web of rigging, Sasuke watches the waves roll and feels the seaspray against his skin. It’s nearly the end of a cloudless day in late Spring, and the weather is about as fine as seafarers could ask for as night begins to fall. The wind ruffles his flyaway hair, a small smile on his face. Should be easy sleeping tonight with the calm waters.

As tough as life has been these past few years...he knows he’s simply lucky to see them passed. With most others sharing his blood long gone, Sasuke had little choice but to resort to the less lawful ways of surviving.

Of course...his current arrangement wasn’t, at first, intended. Attempting to filch some supplies from a slew of crates along his hometown’s dock one foggy morning, he’d found himself caught and hung upside down by an ankle. Protesting quite loudly, it hadn’t done much to sway the pirate that had caught him red handed in their goods.

“Seems a little rat’s nibbled his way into the rations,” he’d laughed, ignoring Sasuke’s thrashing. Solidly built and covered with ink, he’d gathered a few others around. “What d’you say, lads? Bit scrawny, ain’t he?”

“Put him down, Kisame,” a flame-haired man retorted. “He’s harmless, and we’ve got crates to load if we’re to make it to the meeting point on time.”

“Feisty little bugger, I have to say...seems a waste to let him sit here and starve…”

“We have enough children mucking about,” another man cut in. “We don’t need any more strays, Kisame.”

“What, we were all strays at some point, Sasori! How many of us can you say were conscripted at any sort of ripe old age? Not even you!”

“We’re still getting that blond brat to obey orders, let alone the albino. Last thing we need is another mouthy child to fight with before we get short and toss them overboard for the fish.”

At the threat, Sasuke had quickly settled down.

Kisame’s mouth had settled into a firm line, brow furrowed. “I’ll keep an eye on ‘im if it’s such a hassle, then. I’m not about to squander promising youth.”

“If he can pull his weight despite his being scrawny, then do what you will. Just keep him out of the way and get the supplies loaded.”

“Aye, Yahiko sir.” Setting Sasuke down, the one called Kisame had crouched, looking him over appraisingly. He’d seen his fair share of abandoned children on the docks, and had been one himself once upon a time. “...think you can trade a bunk and some food for manners and obeying orders, laddie?”

Still wary, Sasuke had realized he didn’t have much choice...and nodded.

“...good, then. Now...grab that sack, there. Can’t start too early, eh? Need to bulk you up,” he’d then taunted, ruffling the little Uchiha’s hair and chuckling at his protest. An arm flexed, showing the sizeable muscles. “Someday we’ll have you strong as an ox, but for now...best you start off light.”

And that was how Sasuke ended up on the ship among the group calling themselves the Red Dawn. Though not the only child, he’d been the youngest, close in age to those like Deidara and Hidan. The former detested him on sight, and the latter enjoyed having someone younger to pick on...but at least he was alive.

Now he’s fifteen, and though still far more lithe than Kisame and his bulk, is much stronger than he’d been when first discovered pilfering their supplies. Self assured, and maybe a little cocky, he’s one of the quickest and most agile of the crew, and it’s common to see him climbing about in the rigging like a monkey.

“Oi, boyo!”

Glancing over to his mentor, Sasuke leaps down to let Kisame speak to him face to face. “Aye, sir?”

“Find any frayed lines or slipping knots?”

“No, sir. Everything looks to be top form, sir.”

There’s a snort. “Always with the ‘sir’...I think I know well enough by now you respect me without you spittin’ the word every few words, hm?”

“Aye sir.”

Ignoring Sasuke’s smirk, Kisame gives his shoulder a shove. “Off to bed with you, then. We’ll be landing midday tomorrow, so best you be rested.”

At the notion, Sasuke can’t help but brighten. It’s been several weeks since they last made landfall, and he’s eager to get off the ship for a while and explore a new town. “Will we be moored long?”

“A few days, give or take. Just be sure you don’t get yourself into any trouble,” the elder pirate advises, giving the youth a rather pointed look. “None of your shenanigans from the last time we docked...got it?”

“It was just one brawl -”

“And you had two black eyes. Not to mention we were nearly ousted and thrown out. I’m serious, Sasuke...keep your head down. We can’t afford to muddy the waters.”

“...yes, sir.”

“To bed, then.”

Making his way below deck, Sasuke doesn’t waste much time crawling into the hammock he sleeps in, kicking off his boots and not bothering with anything else. He’ll just change in the morning before they make landfall and at least look somewhat presentable.

Until then...he swiftly falls asleep to the gentle rocking of the ship.

...at least, for a few hours.

“Sasuke...Sasuke!”

Eyelids squinting, they open as he hears his mentor’s voice. “...Kisame…?”

The pirate’s expression is solemn. “We’re coming up on a nasty squall...no avoiding it with the winds as they are. Best you get up and secure yourself before it hits.”

Sasuke’s gut sinks, but not entirely. They’ve faced storms before. Sure, some get lost now and then, but he’s yet to go overboard.

...and yet, Kisame’s face makes him wonder.

Slipping on his boots, he makes his way topside to a terrifying sight. Even as color peeks over the horizon, the rest of the sky is quickly being consumed by a reaching, contorting black. Clouds roll and tear at the ferocity of the winds, and the curtain of pounding rain is quickly approaching.

...this doesn’t look good.

The crew is shouting and running, moving to tie down anything that moves. Sasuke leaps into the fray, helping to check the rigging he only just finished securing the night before. The whipping winds snap the sails like thunderclaps, and he pales as perfectly good lines already show signs of stress.

This really isn’t good.

Waves begin to swell, cresting further and further over the deck. Clothes are quickly soaked, Sasuke moving to mop water from both heaven and sea from his face. He can barely see in the deluge…!

“Sasuke -!”

Squinting and turning to Kisame’s voice, Sasuke pales as a monster wave begins to tilt the ship, rearing up over them like a furious stallion.

He barely has time to take a breath before it hits him like a slap from a god. Turning and spinning as the water tries to pull him apart, he loses all sense of direction before being spat back up upon the surface.

Around him, several other crewmen attempt to grab on to anything nearby and floating. The ship slowly wobbles back the other way, swiftly drifting the other direction at the storm’s mercy.

With it goes any hope of being pulled back onto the deck. The ocean is too angry, too determined to see them drowned.

Managing to find a barrel, Sasuke clings to the bobbing lumber as lightning flashes and rain falls in sheets. Already his body is exhausted from its beating, and he knows it won’t be long until he can’t fight any longer. Curling his fingers as best he can into the ropes around his lifesaver, he holds on for dear life for as long as he’s able. But once his body gives up...it all goes black.

“...nn…”

Eyelids quivering, he rises into consciousness like a struggle against the tide. Where...what…?

Managing to open his eyes, Sasuke finds himself staring at...some kind of thatched roof…? But, he was on the ship, and...and…

...oh no…

Sitting up in a panic, he soon finds himself dizzy, collapsing back upon something soft. Bits and pieces of the morning before (or...whenever it was - how long was he out?) flicker through his mind, lingering exhaustion making the memories difficult to recall. But eventually he finds his feet, staggering out of what turns out to be a small hut.

Squinting against the sun, he finds himself not too far from a sandy beach peppered with stones. Stepping out, he stumbles far enough to get a better view of his surroundings. It looks like he’s one some kind of...island of some sort. What size he can’t know, or if there’s anyone else around.

...but someone had to build this hut.

Slowing panning his eyes, he stares as a figure approaches from one side of the shore. Somehow pale despite the sun, a curtain of dark hair hangs to her hips. Under an arm is a basket, and she comes up short as she spots him.

“Y...you’re awake!”

Feeling more caught in a fever dream than alive, Sasuke can’t manage a reply before his knees decide enough is enough. Crumpling, he sinks into the sand before his vision flickers and his body goes slack.

A gasp sounds from his unexpected companion. Racing over and setting aside her burden, she carefully takes his head in her lap. “...well...maybe you’re not quite r-ready to be on your feet,” she murmurs. With surprising strength, she drags him back inside, settling him atop the odd nest of fabric within that serves as a resting place. Next she fetches her basket, heavy with fruits. Ensuring he’s stable, she trades it for a net, walking back out into the sand and wading into the water.

For a moment she stands and stares before slipping beneath the surface. Just as she submerges, a flick of an amethyst tail sends water flipping into the air before she disappears.

                                                          .oOo.

     Oh golly it's late @~@      ...I wanna say I wrote something kinda like this before, but it's been so long and with SHM on top of it, I can't really recall what all I've done and when and for what, ahaha - forgive me if this sounds too familiar. I'm very tired and couldn't really think of anything else, RIP.      Anyway, I wanna say more but...too tired. I'm gonna go crash :'D Thanks for reading~

[oh-mother-of-darkness]

ASKS (28)

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

Anonymous said: Hi ily💓

I love you too! There is love in my heart and you may take some

Anonymous said: Hey hey hey Amesssss!!! what was the first fic you ever wrote?

Well. Technically the first written piece was a play I wrote at around 13? It was about all of the characters from the Percy Jackson series watching Disney’s Hercules together

My first bat fic was this one, back in I want to say 2014

Anonymous said: You are a snack . So cute ❤❤❤❤

[Lizzo voice] baby I’m the whole damn meal 

Anonymous said: You may’ve done badly but you looked fine as heck doing it. (I’m aroace—I’m not hitting on you, I promise). Besides, everybody has off days. Even lawyers.

akhfasufgdlfeas I appreciate the clarification <3

Anonymous said: For my summer job I went through a lawyer’s disaster of an office and let me tell you. 90% of it was Westlaw printouts. Those things are the effing best. They tell you what’s going on, they give you the info you need, they’re not weirdly complicated and hard to find—Westlaw. It may be prohibitively expensive and a symptom of the flaws in our legal system, but by golly it’s the best option.

When you hit that “forms” button......... the magic....... the beauty.....

andromeda270 said: My legal research class got us two free weeks of westlaw(I’m still in college) and when I didn’t finish a paper I made a free trial for the wrong site but they emailed me anyway asking if I was interested in buying and could they talk over the phone. I fessed up and they gave me another free week to work on a paper for some class

That’s how they get you!!!!

collidinglegends said: Lexis is shinier, WestLaw is better

Amen babe

Anonymous said: Please sleep

Who’s got the time

Anonymous said: hi !! quick question . I’ve followed you for a while and i think i asked you this previously but im not sure... do you write Duke ?? would you be comfortable writing him if i sent in a prompt including others in the fam ?

Sure, if I like the prompt. I write Duke every once in awhile, although I wouldn’t say I’m confident doing it. He’s a fairly new character and I stopped reading weeklys about the time I hit law school three years ago

Anonymous said: Hope you feel better soon... I'll pray for you

Ah thank you friend I appreciate you

areverieofchaosdreams said: I'm probably pretty late to this cause I'm not great at time, but your thing is making All the Feelings tm. But in a good way. You and dapanda were the first batfam blogs I ever followed, and it's been a helluva ride. Your way of writing things just pulls me in a way that few do, so thank you. :)

A single tear falls from my lashes, followed by several more because I cry a lot 

hades-in-a-handbag said: Your thing is being the embodiment of goth mom energy Don't know if it's just your literal handle or what but you're so encouraging and motherly and also dark and emotionally scaring with your writing. Very sweet, very spooky

goth mom energy 

Anonymous said: Omgggg ames, ginny is so grown up!!!!!

She is! She’s a teenager 

morallyunequivocal said: not a prompt but oh no i just made myself sad with that last ask

that’s a mood

Anonymous said: You make plushies? Wtf, how did you get to be so talented and adorable at so many things. You’re amazing and I hope law school goes well.

Oh you’re so so sweet

Anonymous said: What law school things have you learned that you could see the bat family deals by with?

Well, I’ve had to take classes about forming and maintaining businesses, finding tax loopholes, writing and litigating contracts, and real property. Those are all things that WE would deal with on the regular. I also took classes on juvenile and adult criminal law, evidence, and police misconduct, which all seem Bat-relevant. At this exact moment I’m taking family law, which would include adoptions, and I have in the past taken classes about trusts and estates.

Anonymous said: Noooooooo no nono 🙏🙏🙏 dont ignore her 💔

Bad kittens get ignored instead of cuddled

crayolapumpkins said: hope the printing isn't too boring !! + I'm loving the fics , your work is always *chef's kiss* !! thank u for ur hard work ✨✨✨

[heart eyes]

Anonymous said: Since you have a big brother and a tiny sister, with that huge gap, what do you feel when you see those Dick & Damian fics or headcanons where Dick sees Damian as both a brother and a son? I know it's kind of canon now, but fandom has even gone as far as having Dick adopt Damian in various situations. Their age gap and their positions in the family allows for that kind of dynamic and I know it's reality for a lot of people too. But what's Your opinions on this? And maybe your brother's?

Huh, that’s a good question. My littlest brother and I are ten years apart, and Dave will tell you flat out I’m his favorite sibling because when I’m home we do everything together. I think the thing those fics are collectively missing is that there doesn’t need to be a brother/father hybrid because the role of Older Sibling With Age Gap is already its own distinct thing. 

Dave and I don’t have the same dynamic as the kids I actively grew up with. We had very limited contact during his growing up years, because I was off at school. Now that he’s a teenager, we communicate like adults but with the caveat that I am In Charge. I dictate the agenda, and I make the decisions unless I choose to delegate them. 

I’ve indulged a request about an adoption before, but I don’t really like that idea very much. Like I said, I don’t feel the need to add “father” into a dynamic that already exists on its own. 

hollyhock13 said: Listen. You’re a middle kid, but not the middle middle kid. You’re towards the older end, but not the oldest. Maybe second or third, depending on how many siblings you have

Correct!

Anonymous said: That is the coolest blanket I've ever seen!!

Isn’t it just 

Anonymous said: We're having a big adoption event tomorrow in Houston and we sent all the animals in our shelter down there. Our supervisors are in Houston too so us few kennel techs left at the shelter are scrubbing the place from top to bottom. We have music playing on the loud speaker and just ordered pizza. It's a great day. :)

:D

Anonymous said: Pls continue the Tim and hallucination Damian thing im on edge

Anonymous said: Bls bls bls continue the tim hallucinating dami fic, bc its killing me in the best way. My heart. It hurts. That shit hurted.

maybe

Anonymous said: Ames, thoughts on the new joker movie?

I haven’t seen it, although I probably will when I get the time

Anonymous said: Idk if this is a secret, more like a guilty confession. I really, REALLY hope Damian turns out asexual, or at least romantically unattached. I LOVE that most of his good interactions are with his vaious Bat siblings, Jon, Maps and his pets. Everyone loves shopping him with varuova characters and it makes me hesitate to share my opinion incase I'm looked at weirdly. But having a character I look up to be asexual would be amazing.

I would really like that too anon

Anonymous said: what do you think about Drake & his new outfit?

ugly

Anonymous said: Alfred Pennyworth is the baddest bitch

You are not incorrect

bruciewayneisbatman said: Amy and Kenza are the bittersweet queens of this fandom. The both of you are absolutely evil and tooth-rotting sweet at the same time. I love you two for that, btw.

<3 thanks Esther 

[hiyorisarugaki]

📰 [[ he didn't want me to send this but I'm ignoring him ]]

What is theirname?:  Kisuke, dumbass Taichou,THAT IDIOT, SNEAKYASS SNEAKRelationship with them?: Hate hate HATE this baldy!! I really didn’t like him prancing aroundHikifune-Taichou’s division. Coming in and changing EVERYTHING about the placeI… fuck! He was a captain but didn’t even act like one. He didn’t even know what he wanted when he came there. And then, ‘ta top it alloff, he decided ‘ta go back ‘ta his old prison guard days and released someloonies from the loony bin he used ‘ta guard. YEAH I’M FUCKIN’ TALKIN’ ABOUTMAYURI! That sociopath djkgdj!! GAAH! But I’ll say this… actually, no. Whyshould I say this? Why did he even allow himself ‘ta get punched? Why bother ‘taeven pretend ‘ta care for me? He didn’t. I know he didn’t. He hated me too.That’s what I always wanted… ‘ta think. Him and Mayuri, cookin’ up randomscientific experiments, trickin’ me into helping them write all their long-assreports… running the fuckin’ division and approving budgets for their insanity.The amount of times I tried ‘ta resign and he just- wouldn’t have it. Sometimes…I thought if I could just go back ‘ta Hikifune-Taichou, it would be easy ‘taleave. But… she never wrote—ugh. Well, it was, as ya can say, the worst time inmy life. I was determined ‘ta shut everyone out. And Kisuke too.Except… he wouldn’t STAY THE FUCK OUTTA MY SPACE!! He was determined ‘tapretend I was still useful ‘ta him, even though… I knew that whether I wasthere or not, it made no difference. He had his genius boy Mayuri and even the wholefuckin’ squad helping him. He won everyone over with his charming, humblecaptain act. Like oh-eheheh-i-don’t-know-how-the-fuck-I-got-chosen-for-this-honour-golly-me!!And people fuckin’ BOUGHT it! But I know he’s not all he says he was. Hisfighting was fuckin’ TOP NOTCH. Hand-to-hand, he was amazing at, but he neverboasted about it. Kenpachi swaggered around like he was a the big cheese, but Kisukewas happy ‘ta plod along, not tryin’a cause any fights.I hate… hate people… that are fake. I hate his fakeass smile. His fakeass concernwhen I came back late from missions or when I didn’t share my theories. I hated…I hated him pretendin’ ta care. He don’t care. Not the way Hikifune-Taichoudid. I made him as miserable as possible in the first year. I knew he’d get tiredof me. He won’t accept resignation- he could just chuck me out himself. I…really didn’t care at that point. About my rank, about how he viewed me… I justwanted my old Taichou.And then… I s’pose… one day I woke up not hating him as much as usual. I did ashe asked without arguing nineteen times. I… even made him lunch. He never ate properly.He was always smelly and sleep-deprived. So… I rolled him back ‘ta his quartersthat night and didn’t wake him up. I… ain’t singing his praises or nothing… butI s’pose I was tired of arguing. And I’d given up on Hikifune-Taichou comingback ‘ta whisk me away. Guess she didn’t really care as much as I thought. And…it hurt but I got over it. I wasn’t a baby. It ain’t like she was my mother.She owed me nothing.And neither did Kisuke. He wasn’t my friend. He didn’t owe me anything.Except… he came back for some insignificant and shitty person like me.Why the fuck… did he do that?What do you view them as? (family,friend,other): Biggest dumbass I ever met. He’s always gonna be my dumbass Taichou. Nobodyelse would do now.And I’m always gonna keep owing him my life ‘ta him.Do you feel attracted to them in any way?:  FUCKNOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!!!And that fuckin’ crush that people imagined I had- that was all it was!An imaginary crush! I ain’t tryin’a impress him and his dopey-ass smile. Likesome big dumb dog that was always happy ‘ta see me? Who… who the fuck thinkstheir heart would race at that?! NOT ME! HE IS AN IDIOT AND I HATE HIM! I WILLNEVER BE ATTRACTED ‘TA HIM. EVER EVER EVER!What’s one thing you’d like to do with them?:  I would like ‘ta take his stupid shoes and beat him with them - -but I ain’tgonna do that.I suppose… shake him violently. Tell him he’s fuckin’ good enough for aprincess. EVEN BETTER!Why the fuck does Kisuke think he’s somehow less than her? Why…?! Like… he’sfucking clever and good-looking and amazing. He can keep people engaged withoutever trying! He could protect anyone. He doesn’t need a shitty ass title. Hedon’t have ‘ta be given nobility status by anyone in shitty Soul Society. He’s…already got a noble heart and that’s all that really counts.Tell us one memory you have with them.:His fuckin.. guilty eyes when I woke up in that hollow-hybrid state. Helooked so sad and so damn sorry, I couldn’t even punch his face. He was alreadyin too much pain. I dunno… I wished I’d hugged him then. I ain’t good at thatthough. Comfort. Making someone feel good. I can’t make people feel good atall. I wished I had then. I feel bad about it. I was already feeling like a pieceof shit for cutting Shinji and asked how he was. Kisuke said that everyone wasalive. Kensei, Mashiro, Love, Hachi, Lisa, Rose and… Shinji. He said he wassorry.

And I wondered then, why… someone wouldcome for their shitty lieutenant? He could’ve had a nice replacement. In fact,Mayuri was right there. Ready ‘ta fill my shoes and do an even better job…Kisuke could still be a captain.

I’m the one that was sorry.

I don’t think he understands what it’slike ‘ta have that heaviness when someone comes back for them. Like it mattered‘ta Kisuke that I lived or died. Not even Hikifune-Taichou did that. I decided I’d get Aizen for us all. For hurting us. For using us.

Anything you’d like to askthem or state to them? If so, say it now, please!:  

I got nothing ‘ta say ‘ta ya. Get bent.Except… y’know the obvious… that ya weren’t such a terrible captain. So… don’tfuckin’ beat yerself up about the actions of other people. Ya can’t controlthem.

@mysteriousshopkeeper

[uas-fics]

Title: Soulmate Highs Rating: T Summary: Everyone has a soulmate tell. As Stan finds out one day, his is that whatever his soulmates write on their skin appears on his as well. He should be overjoyed, but instead, he’s just nervous his soulmates will find him boring… Ships: Stunny (Stan x Butters x Kenny) Other: For @polyshipprompts Polyship Week, day 2, Soulmate AU.  

Oof thought I had an extra day to work on this but nope, I was wrong. >>, Sorry if it seems rushed or lacks the deeper nuisance and trope deconstruction of my other soulmate works. This one is mostly just for an excuse to write this ship.

—-

“Well,” Kyle took a breath, “that’s a dick alright.”

Stan couldn’t keep his eyes off the crude drawing of a penis across the underside of his arm. One moment, he had nothing there, then the next a line appeared. As if by magic, the rest of the appendage slowly grew across his skin.

“I can’t believe it,” Stan muttered. He’d heard stories of this, but never thought he would experience it. This happened to a second cousin’s hairstylist or a friend of a friend of an aunt’s stepmother. People you didn't ever meet. People who were lucky and excentric.  This didn’t happen to normal people like Stan.

“Me neither.” Kyle prodded the drawing with his finger. “You’ve really got your soulmate’s writing on your arm.”

Stan slapped his best friend’s hand away. “They’re not writing to me. I bet they don’t even know it happened.”

Stan covered the drawing, his mind buzzing. Everyone had some way to find their soulmates. Those were the soulmate tells. Some people swapped eye colors. Some were color blind until they touched their soulmate. Some shared fingerprints.

Stan had always assumed he would be someone who shared a birthmark with his soulmate, and, given how small and awkwardly placed his birthmark was on the back of his upper thigh, he would never have a chance to find his soulmate anyway.

Having his soulmate’s drawing just appear threw that theory out the window.

Only one in a few thousand had a soulmate tell like this! A direct line of communication right on his skin!

“I really, really can’t believe this.” Stan felt a goofy smile spread across his face. “I never thought I’d get this lucky.”

“Yeah,” Kyle crossed his legs on the carpet, “you’ve got a really good lot in your love life, Stan. I’m happy for you.”

Stan winced at Kyle’s tone. Kyle wasn’t upset or mad or even jealous, but behind his happiness for Stan, there was a tinge of bitterness.

On Kyle’s wrists were the words ‘thank you, please, come again’. They were either his soulmate’s first words to him or their last. Kyle had long ago adopted a pessimistic outlook that they had to be the first and last, and he would walk out of whatever store they worked at never see his soulmate again.

“Hey, Kyle, I’m sorry,” Stan started, but Kyle held up his hand.

“Dude, it’s fine. Are you going to reply?” Kyle changed the topic back to Stan’s soulmate.

Stan nodded, craning his head around to find a pen or marker. Spotting one under his bed, he moved to his side and reached out his fingers to roll it close enough to grab it.

He spun the blue sharpie in his fingers, thinking what to say. Maybe the direct approach was best. Something like 'Hello? Is this my soulmate?“ Or maybe he could draw a dick back. Give his soulmate the first impression that he was a chill dude.

Before Stan could decide, teal blue words scrawled across his arm under the dick drawing.

"Wow! Did you draw this? Are you my soulmate?” the words said, with an arrow pointing to the drawing and a wide smiling face.

Stan frowned, twisting his arm around. Why would his soulmate reply to their drawing? Unless…

The original purple ink wrote under the teal blue, “I guess I am! If I knew today my arm drawings would reach my soulmate, I would have drawn something more classy than a dick! lol”

“You don’t just have one soulmate, you have two.” Kyle gasped. “Shit, dude. Now you have to reply.”

Stan nodded, uncapping the marker with his teeth. He spat the cap out and held the marker over his arm, just under purple’s response.

“Wowie, golly, and here I thought I’d never have a soulmate. I wasn’t born with weird eyes or marks or nothing. Where you?” Teal ended their question with an oversized question mark, right where Stan was about to write.

“I gotta mole in the shape of Louisiana on the bottom of my foot, but that’s it.” Purple drew a rough outline of the Pelican State.

“I’ve never been to Louisiana. I don’t think I’ve ever been off Hawaii.”

Stan sucked in a breath. “He’s from Hawaii?” He exclaimed as Purple wrote, “You’re from HAWAII?!?!?!”

“Yup!” Teal added a stick figure surfing on a wave.

Instead of replying directly, Purple drew sunglasses on the stick figure then added a speech bubble proclaiming, “Cool!”

Stan grinned at their antics. He was sure he’d like Purple’s personality, and Teal must have so many stories from living in a tropical paradise.

“So, are you going to eavesdrop or tell them?” Kyle asked, leaning back. He snapped a photo with his phone. A second later, Stan’s phone lit up with a SnapChat notification. Stan capped the marker and picked up his phone, already knowing what the notification was about.

“Local Love Struck Doofus To Scared to Talk To Soulmates. More At 10,” the caption on the picture read.

Kyle smirked as Stan flipped him the bird.

“I’ll talk to them, I just…I need to find the right time to jump into the conversation.” Stan twisted his arm to see the continuing conversation his soulmates were having.

“So where do YOU live?” Teal asked.

“I live in the Colorado mountains,” Purple added a winter hat to the surfing figure then a few snowflakes.

“Kyle, he lives in Colorado!” Stan scrambled to sit on his knees and shoved his arm in Kyle’s face. “In the mountains, like you do! Maybe you know him?”

“There are a lot of mountain towns,” Kyle fell back to keep Stan’s arm from his vision, “and besides, if he lives in South Park, too, he’ll definitely know about you. Everyone in South Park and Middle Park knows about 'Tegrity Farms. It’s where most of the town gets its weed.”

He waved his hand around as if clearing pot smoke from the room. “I guess that works out well for you, then. Having one live in the same state.”

Stan’s stomach fell to his knees. He hadn’t thought of that. What would his soulmates think that he lived on a cannabis farm? There is no way they wouldn’t think less of him for knowing how to make pot butter.

For probably the millionth time, Stan cursed his dad for moving them out of the mountains ten years ago when he was five to start 'living naturally and in one with nature.’

Stan tossed the marker onto his bed before flopping onto his stomach on the floor.

He held out his arm and stared at the conversation.

“Do you snowboard?! Sled? I’ve never seen snow before!” Teal wrote.

“Sledding yes, but not snowboarding. I know how to ski a little.” Purple added a bear surfing alongside the stick figure. “It’s pretty boring here. I like it like that, though.”

Teal started to write something, but Purple wrote over him with another question.

“What’s your name? We should probably know lol.”

“My name is Leopold, but everyone calls me Butters–it’s a long story.”

So Teal Ink was Leopold–Butters. It would take a while for Stan to get used to calling someone 'Butters,’ but he was sure he could do it if he had to.

“Butters? Like what’s on toast?”

The last few letters in 'toast’ curved up so they didn’t overlap a part of the earlier conversation.

“Brb, gonna wash my arm off,” Purple said in the middle of the penis drawing.

“Me too,” Teal added under.

“Well, this seems as good of break in the conversation as any,” Kyle commented, tracing the words on his wrist with his fingers. “Wait for them to wash it off, then say you’re here too.”

Stan chewed his lip. “Yeah, maybe…”

Hearing the nervous tone in his voice, Kyle rolled his eyes. He stood and brushed his pants off.

“Where are you going?” Stan demanded to know as Kyle strolled towards the door. “ You can’t leave me while this is going on.”

“I’m coming right back.” Kyle pulled open the door. “You know my mom doesn’t let me eat at your house. Do you want me to pick you up anything while I’m out?”

Stan sighed. In retrospect, he should be glad he was able to keep up a friendship with Kyle at all after he moved away, but all the rules and regulations Mrs. Broflovski put on Kyle when he came down to visit were such pains in the ass.

“Yeah, there is a new gas station if you turn left and head East instead of back up towards South Park. They have that macha Monster I like and awesome chicken veggie pizza.” Stan pushed himself up to pick up his wallet from his desk. He took out a ten and handed it to Kyle.

Kyle nodded, pocketing the money. “Ok, macha monster, chicken veggie pizza. Got it. Don’t get another tattoo while I’m on a food run.” He smirked as Stan slapped a hand over his hip.

“That happened one time and you won’t let me live it down,” Stan muttered, tracing the poorly done paw print tattoo through his shirt. Some older kids from Stan’s school had invited them to a party, where Stan had been talked into being a canvas for an eleventh-grade amateur tattoo artist.

Kyle had tried to talk him out of it, but the artist was so pretty, Stan couldn’t say no and waited until Kyle left to grab something to eat back upstairs before allowing her to make the paw outline on his upper hip.

“Nope.”

As Kyle headed down the hall and the steps, Stan stuck his head out of his room to shout, “And get me a Twix, too.”

“Are you going to stress eat all night over this?” Kyle yelled back, the top of his head disappearing down the stairs.

“I just fucking might!”

“Stanley, language!” His mom shouted from downstairs.

After calling down an apology, Stan went back to his room and sat at his desk. He eyed the cup of pens, markers, and pencils. It would only take one mark for his worrying to end. If they were his soulmates, then what his family did for a living shouldn’t bother them too much, right?

Stan’s hand hovered over an uncapped ballpoint pen sitting straight up in the cup.  His arm was clear of ink now. This was his chance.

Just as his fingers brushed the pen, Butters replied.

“That’s better and yes my nickname is Butters like what goes on toast ha-ha!”

“That’s awesome dude,” Purple replied a moment later. “My name’s Kenny btw.”

Stan dropped his arm to the desktop, heaving a sigh.

He couldn’t do it.

Resting his cheek on the cool wood of the desk, Stan watched his soulmates get to know more about each other, unaware of their third partner’s eyes on their words.

Butters and Kenny went on to fill up his arm several times with chit chat and doodles. Butters was quite the artist and covered his wrist with vines and flowers twice. Kenny was funny as hell and made Stan have to cover his mouth to keep quiet before his parents came barging in.

They seemed like amazing soulmates.

After erasing their arm conversations again, Butters asked, “Could you do me a favor Kenny?”

“Sure, what?” Kenny wrote back.

“I have a tattoo. I got it to piss off my parents last year. Do you have it now? Or does it only count if I get another?”

Stan’s heart skipped a beat. He hadn’t even thought about if old ink still counted. He pulled up his shirt and stared at the faded green-black paw print.

“You have a tat? That’s sick dude! What is it? Where is it? I’ve always wanted one but couldn’t afford to go to a good place.”

“Thank you! I designed it myself. It’s on my left shoulder. Check yours!”

Heart pounding in his ears, Stan slowly rolled up his sleeve. Just before his shoulder, he stopped, shaking. Forcing courage through his body, he rolled it up completely to see a T-like shape in a box with the word 'Chaos’ written under it. Each of the word’s letters was in a different font style. Unlike Stan’s simple outline, this tattoo had shading that made the weird box shape look like metal.

“Oh, no…” Stan whimpered. He spun around and dove onto his bed where he left his phone. He didn’t bother to try texting. Pressing Kyle’s number, he held the phone up to his ear.

Three rings and Kyle picked up. “Yes, Stan?”

“Butters has a tattoo–and now I have one too. Another one. They’ll know I’m here when they see my tattoo.” Stan started to pace his room. “What do I do?”

“Just tell them! Who cares what they’re talking about. Just write on yourself that you’re their other soulmate and live happily ever after or whatever.” Kyle’s voice sounded irritated. “It’s not hard, Stan.”

“You don’t get it, Kyle! My family lives on a cannibis farm. I’m not funny or artistic like they are. I’m just…you know a normal joe. Nothing special.” Stan threw his arm out and brushed the back of his hand across his pen cup, knocking the whole thing over.

Pens and markers scattered on the floor, several rolling under the desk.

Stan swore, running his hand through his hair.

“Dude, I am not letting you have perfect access to meeting your soulmates and throwing it away because you’re a coward. Don’t make me take matters into my own hands, Stanley,” Kyle threatened.

“I am not a coward–”

The sound of coins and cash hitting a glass counter came through the phone.

“I have to help my love-struck, doofus best friend talk to his soulmates. Keep the change,” Kyle told someone. To Stan, he continued, “you have until I’ve driven back to 'Tridgey Farm to do it yourself, or I will sit on you and write it myself.”

Stan shuddered. He’d known Kyle since they were both in diapers. He could and would do what he threatened. No doubt about that. he would pin him down and write bluntly something like “This is your other soulmate’s best friend. He is too much of a wuss to talk to you two. His name is Stan.” right across his arm in black ink.

Stan slumped down in his chair, burying his face in his arms.

“Why can’t I have a colorblind soulmate tell or anything else? This isn’t fair…” Stan whined.

“Don’t know what to tell you. At least you know you’ll be able to meet yours and not walk out on them forever…” Kyle muttered bitterly. “Just–oh, shoot. That’s the clerk coming to my car. Well, you just got yourself another few minutes.”

He hung up before Stan could speak.

Stan repeatedly dropped his forehead against the desk. What was he going to do? He couldn’t let Kyle get here and do it. That would make him look like a total loser!

Deciding that reading Butters and Kenny’s conversation might calm him down, he rolled his head towards his arm.

A mark of blue ink ran down the back of his hand from his knuckles to just past his wrist.

“Did you do that? Are you ok?” Kenny asked, drawing an arrow to the blue streak.

“No, I didn’t draw that.” Butters drew a frowny face.

“Is there someone else here? Helloooooooo?”

Stan watched the final o and question mark appear on his skin. He heaved a sigh and sat up. He reached for a pen, only to remember he knocked the pen cup from his desk a moment before.

Shaking his head, he bent over and picked up the first pen he found.

“Ollie ollie oxen free!” Butters wrote. “Come out, come out, wherever you are.”

Swallowing down his nerves, Stan pressed the pen to his skin.

“Sorry.” He wrote then added, “I’m Stan.”

“What?! So, there are three of us here? Triple soulmates?!” Butters then drew a big heart. “I woke up today thinking I had none and before noon I got three? How lucky!”

“Noon?” Stan asked himself, then remember Hawaii was a few hours behind.

“Cool, man. How long have you been watching?” Kenny asked.

Stan considered lying that he had just woke up, but decided against it. Best foot forward didn’t involve lies.

“An hour? I saw the dick. I was,” Stan paused, “nervous.”

“Wow. That’s cute.”

He could almost hear the tease in Kenny’s words as if he had spoken them, but somehow he didn’t mind it. Instead, he wondered what they really sounded like, or even what they looked like. Kenny seemed like the kind of guy to have a lopsided smile. Butters probably spoke with his hands, Stan guessed.

The whole conversation he’d read, they had given vague descriptions of themselves. Both of them were blonds with blue eyes and his age, fifteen, but nothing else.

“It’s ok! I was nervous, too,” Butters made a smiley face, “but with three of us, will we have room on our arms anymore?”

“If we write really tiny…” Kenny let his handwriting grow smaller and smaller until the n and y were barely readable.

Stan snorted a laugh. In his tiniest handwriting, he asked, “Does anyone have a Discord or something?”

“I do! It’s ProfChaos172, my hamster is my pfp.” Butters announced with a picture of a hamster in a square box.

“I do but could you wait a few minutes? Don’t have wifi in the house,” Kenny admitted. “Gimme ten minutes to get to the library.”

“Wait, first, there is something I have to say if you even want to really include me in your lives.” Stan steeled himself. “Dad moved us to a pot farm when I was 5. Other than that I’m boring compared to you two…Idk if you want a boring soulmate like me.”

“A POT FARM?! HOLY SHIT!” Kenny drew a big, purple cannabis leaf. “Dude, that’s not boring.”

“I don’t think it’s possible to have a boring farm life no matter what farm you’re on,” Butters announced.

A weight lifted off Stan’s shoulders. With a smile on his lips, he placed his fingertips over the top of his soulmates’ last words. Knowing they wouldn’t think he was weird or boring because of his farm life, Stan wrote down his discord name and told Kenny he and Butters would wait ten minutes before attempting to contact each other.

Once Kenny wished them both goodbye, Stan bent down to turn on his computer. He tapped his fingers impatiently against the desk as the discord logo spun around. Updates, of course. It’ll take forever for all of them to download.

Leaning back, Stan took out his phone and pulled up Kyle’s contact. If Kyle was driving, should he just text him? Calling would be faster, but would Kyle even pick up? He only got his license a month ago and was a very careful driver.

Just as Stan went to open a text message, his phone rang. Kyle was calling him.

“Perfect,”  Stan mumbled before answering, “Hey, Kyle, good news. You don’t have to hold me down. I did it.”

“Oh, yeah, cool for you, Stan. Good job,” Kyle replied absentmindedly.

“Kyle? You sound distracted?” Stan strained his ears. He couldn’t hear any engine rumbling or radio or the wind. Hadn’t Kyle left yet?

Someone asked a question, and Kyle covered the phone to answer.

“Kyle?” Stan shouted into the phone as discord finally loaded. He already had a request from ProfChaos172 waiting. His profile picture was a cute cream-colored hamster. It even had a little cape on. Stan made a note to send a picture of his dog Sparky right away. Did Kenny have any pets? That topic would be a great starting off point for all three of them to talk, and it wouldn’t be hard to steer the conversation that way, either.

“Stan, you are not going to believe what happened at the gas station.”

“You got the final punch in your free pizza card,” Stan guessed as he pulled up his file folder of Sparky pictures.

“No, better,” Kyle laughed. “Do you know Jimmy Valmer?”

“Yeah. He’s in my class. Funny guy.”

“He works at the gas station you sent me to, and do you know what his Soulmate tell is? It’s like mine, words on his wrist.” Kyle continued, excitement growing in his voice. “You know what the words are?” He didn’t give Stan time to answer. “'I have to help my love-struck, doofus best friend talk to his soulmates. Keep the change’.”

Stan furrowed his brow. “No. No way. Isn’t that what you said while you were on the phone a bit ago?”

“Uh-huh! And Jimmy told me 'Thank you, please come again’! Do you know what that means? We’re soulmates!” Kyle shouted. “I found my soulmate. Life is great!”  Stan could almost see Kyle jumping to his feet as he announced his joy to the gas station parking lot.

Stan held the phone from his ear, but couldn’t help but smile. After years of moping and being bitter about it, Kyle ended up finding his soulmate after all. Stan would have to rub the irony of it in Kyle’s face sometime.

“Aren’t we just a lucky pair of boys tonight.” Stan chortled to himself. “Are you coming back here?”

“Nah, I’m staying in the parking lot to talk with Jimmy until I have to head back up the mountain. I called to tell you that so you didn’t worry,” Kyle explained. “I’ll pay you back for your pizza next time I see you.”

“No, it’s fine. Consider it a gift for urging me to talk to Kenny and Butters.” Stan smiled fondly at the computer screen. Only a couple more minutes now until Kenny showed up.

“Thanks, man,” Kyle replied. “I think I’m going to go now. Have fun chatting with your soulmates.”

“Have fun chatting with yours.” Stan hung up as a request to join a private group chat with ProfChaos174 and 6969SexyBeastMcCormick6969 appeared on his screen.

Without missing a beat, Stan moved his mouse and accepted the invite.

[journeysintowebcomics]

Girl Genius Liveblog #210

UPDATE 210: Time Shenanigans May Enter the Girl Genius Story

Last time Agatha had gotten a lead about who to talk with to solve the time bubble problem in Mechanisburg. To excuse herself and go read something pretty important, she asks where she’ll be staying, and is now being escorted there. Let’s continue.

So, the place where Agatha is staying?

Yeah, it’s the Master’s own home. Golly, cleaning that place must be a major nightmare. This is where his entire family stays, for safety reasons, meaning as long as Agatha is inside that building, she’ll be safe. This all only makes me assume later the safety of this place will be tested. I’m also a tad concerned this means the Master will hear about stuff it may not be convenient for him to hear, such as – possibly – the contents of the book, if it really is the one Margarelotta had.

A large family needs a large home, and the Master has a very large family, all of them are Colette’s siblings. Yeah, the yellow lady is named Colette, according to the dropdown menu here at the bottom of the page. The whole cadre of siblings had nothing better to do other than coming to gawk at Agatha, saying nonsense and being generally annoying, much to Colette’s chagrin. That’s the reason why she’s apologizing, she knew everyone would hound Agatha and friends for one reason or another. There doesn’t seem to be anything interesting here, other than how the Master is very old. I wonder how long he has been the Master of Paris? Could he be the founder?

Now that Agatha’s group are all in the room they’ll share, Violetta takes out the book Margarelotta had, asking Agatha if she was sure this was the one. Turns out that book is the same Moxana had given her like three years ago, so long ago I didn’t remember it at all. I suppose Agatha left this book behind when the Sturmvoraus family drugged her to plug Lucrezia into her head.

Oh, now that I remember kind of better. That’s the thing that had appeared out of a portal at the very start of this story, no? Does that mean the Foglios had planned all this in advance already? That’s years of work, more than a decade. If they had already decided most of these details, or at least the major plot points...it’s pretty impressive, really!

This book page seems to be full of interesting stuff, let’s see...this drawing was made of memory, meaning the person who wrote all this didn’t do it when this clank was right in front of them. The author remembers an armor, a very angry attitude...medusa hair? Curious choice for a clank, really. This is the Muse of Time, no mate given, from what I see.

‘Voice echoed through my own did not’. This could be meaningless, but for some reason, the thing about the voice brings Lucrezia to mind, given how her voice’s harmonics was such an important thing back then. I’m not sure Lucrezia wrote this book, though...she is a spark, but if this is a muse, then this is one of Van Rijn’s clanks, no? Did Lucrezia have much contact with Van Rijn’s clanks? It’s not impossible, but I don’t recall how that may be possible...although...perhaps if the clanks were at the Sturmvoraus’ home maybe she may have seen them, back when she was scheming with Tarvek’s father.

Nice of the writer of this book to note the odd hat, I was about to comment about that. After what happened with Gil’s revelation, those hats are important. It’s the same kind of hat those things have, you know, those that are creepy and cryptic.

Agatha theorizes Van Rijn didn’t build that one. If not him, then who? Is there more than one person in history building a set of clanks with very narrow yet powerful specialties? I don’t think so, honestly.

The next time Violetta or Zeetha sees Von Zinzer they’ll ask ‘what the hell?!’

It seems the information about the Muse of Time is from before the Storm King’s times. Well, its age must be really hard to pinpoint, what with...you know, it being the Muse of Time.

Yet it seems the information was added after Agatha received the book, so yup, there definitely are time shenanigans going on here. If, and it’s a very big IF, there are no shenanigans at all then there’s pretty much only one person who could have written this, I think: the Other in Anevka’s body. If it had been Tarvek, then the notes would have his handwriting and Agatha would be able to notice that, and if it had been the Other in Agatha’s body, then...Agatha would know? I think?

But that all is only if there were no time shenanigans related to writing those notes, and given this is the Muse of Time, well, I’m so certain there are time shenanigans.

This book is something Margarelotta stole, Tweedle spent so much effort to try to get back, and everyone even risked getting in trouble with the train monks, so there must be something very important about this book. Well, it’s information about very amazing clanks, including one that can do stuff with time, so it’s not too surprising everyone wants it so badly.

Or not, there’s something a little more concrete here. Agatha realizes she may find out what Margarelotta was looking for in the train monks’ fortress, and pinpoints something that does sound pretty intriguing:

Oh, great! Interesting. So it’s a tool the Muse of Time had? Hmmm...could it be Margarelotta was looking for that lantern so she could free Tarvek from Mechanisburg, so someone would go against Tweedle? It was remarked Margarelotta still had the emblem that showed she still was loyal to Tarvek. Whether she was truly loyal is still unknown, but it’s a possibility. And hey, this is a lead! To start the search, Agatha decides to go to the black market, to try to find the professor who went missing.

Wooster shall be taking them to the black market later, once the theater closes – which I suppose means late at night. With this, the plot will be stopping for a while! In the meantime, Agatha finds someone eavesdropping, it’s one of the students, hoping to join so he can get extra credit. Doesn’t seem like a bad person, maybe it’d be okay if he joins.

The guy’s name is Hoffman, and he can come along. Since Colette is asking why they’re going to the black market, Agatha comments the notebook she has is what the professor had been looking for, and Colette recognizes it as Tarvek’s notes, even wondering if Tweedle knows Agatha has them.

...well Tweedle sure is going to find out, then. I imagine Colette is going to tell her Agatha has Tarvek’s notes. Agatha may have told this to the wrong person.

Well, nothing to do but wait for the late night. For now, they’ll have to sit around and rest. Zeetha has to do something for a moment.

Aaaw, that’s pretty sweet! That’s the thing that was on Zeetha’s circlet, the one that imitated her facial expression. Always thought it was kind of a weird object, didn’t get the point of it given, well, it was like Zeetha was having a second face on her forehead. This here, though, it’s a pretty sweet thing to be doing with that thing. I like it.

Gil better never try to mess with it, though, that’d be unforgivable.

--without wanting to throw her into a cell so he can examine her head and try to get the Other out of there? Yeah, happens all the time.

Whatever Gil wants to say to Agatha, he can’t do it because like so many lovebirds in fiction – ever since I started this website the amount of stuff I read has increased a lot, haha – he can’t say a romantic thing in a smooth manner. Higgs, channeling the frustrations of many readers, demands Gil sits down and writes a letter instead of going in complicated tangents that’ll end in he not saying anything successfully. Nice. I don’t think there’ll be any results, but Higgs tried and that’s what matters.

Also, quite telling Higgs can slap Gil around like a ragdoll and not suffer any consequences from manhandling the head of an entire empire. Higgs has privileges in this empire, hah!

Alright, let’s end for now.

Next time: in six updates