#but sometimes i love something so much by an author and nothing else compares and idek what it's about)

[autumnrory]

nora sakavic has "tsc" in her bio after all the aftg acronyms............bestie if there's another book i will SCREAM

[theeoriginals]

Something with Klaus based on this quote from The Marvelous Mrs. Maisel

“… You listened.”

“To you? Always.”

I NEED the tension PLS

what a feeling | klaus mikaelson

klaus mikaelson x psychic!female!reader (no y/n)

author's note; this + the oneshot I did with the ozark quote are so fun to do, if y'all have any more tv/movie quotes you want me to do fics with send them in <333

warnings; umm vague mentions of violence but ultimately nothing besides fluff, reader is kind of an anxious mess but it's short and sweet

Her powers had always been somewhat of a burden. They were unreliable at best, dangerous and deadly at worst. She'd been on both ends of the spectrum, and even though the power that ran through her bloodline hadn't skipped her, it might as well have compared to everyone else in her family.

It'd made her somewhat of a black sheep amongst wolves. Her dreams, visions, couldn't be trusted. She couldn't be trusted.

Her family never really let her forget that, so the first time two Originals walked into her family's innocuous shop, she figured they wanted her mom or dad, or someone else– anyone but her.

But Klaus had set his eyes on her and said her name like it meant something. Like it wasn't basically a curse in and of itself.

The Mikaelsons were kind to her, despite all of the trouble she came with. Rebekah was sweet and mostly understanding, though she could sometimes be a bit hurtful without realizing it. Elijah was ultimately the same, and his interest in witchcraft always made her remember how much she really did love it, even if she was considered cursed by most witches in New Orleans.

Elijah had told her all about how their mother was the Original witch, and that if they hadn't been turned into vampires, they'd all have a bit of magic in them still. Their sister Freya, and Kol, were both lucky to have that part of their heritage still, apparently.

In the months of working with the Originals, helping them to the best of her ability, though, it was Klaus that she'd come to enjoy most.

She'd heard stories of the infamous hybrid her entire life, stories of bloodshed and needless violence, painting a picture of an unforgiving, ruthless man. Admittedly, when he'd first sought her out, she thought he'd come to kill her. For what reason, she didn't know, but there was no other reason he'd want to speak to her unless she'd unknowingly passed on a piece of her cursed magic to him.

But that hadn't been the case, and he'd just been in need of her specific powers, needed her help to keep an eye out for certain people and any future threats that would bring harm to him and his family. She'd quickly learned that above everything, Klaus just wanted to keep his family safe, and she was more than happy to help in any way she could.

Even though most of her visions were unreliable, he still urged her to share them just in case. Even though not a single one of her visions about the Mikaelsons had come true so far, he still made her tell him and his siblings. He never let her doubt herself.

She supposes that's why she's trying not to be upset right now, listening to them talk over her like she's not sitting right in front of them.

"We can't just sit back and let this happen, Niklaus," Rebekah says, her face twisted frustratedly. "Her visions aren't fact, they're mere possibilities. And very low possibilities at that."

She flinched, ducking her head down to hide the hurt Rebekah's words inflict on her, because she can't really be upset when the blonde is right. Sometimes it's just a feeling, not even a vision. She can't blame them for not trusting a vision of a future that is constantly changing.

Elijah, ever the mediator, gives his sister a slightly scolding look before looking at his brother with something apologetic in his eyes. "Rebekah's being... harsh, but brother, she's not wrong. There's no way to prove that it will come true, and because of that, we have no real reason to not fight back. We have to do something, otherwise every vampire in the Quarter will be in danger."

Klaus pinches the bridge of his nose, his face twitching in a glare. His eyes drift to the quiet witch sitting down, twisting her fingers together anxiously in her lap. He catches her gaze and softens at the sadness in her eyes, feeling it pang in his chest.

"I know," He says finally, an apology swimming in his glacial eyes as he looks at the witch. Her sadness deepens with hurt at his words and he tears his eyes away from her, looking to his siblings. "We have to go."

She stands up abruptly, looking at him in disbelief. "But Klaus, they have white oak stakes, and they're going to use them on all of you. They kill you all, and they don't stop until you're all gone, even Freya! I saw it happen, I swear! You have to believe me, please,"

Elijah says her name with pity in every syllable and she swipes a hand out, turning to look at him with pleading eyes.

"You have to believe me, you're going to be killed if you go. They have laid a trap perfectly made to capture you, and you're walking directly into it!"

"We have to," Klaus shakes his head, already walking towards the doors, Rebekah and Elijah following. He looks over his shoulder, giving her a firm look. "Stay here until we return. It's not safe for you anywhere else."

He walks out before she can say anything else, pretending that he can't feel the heartbroken look on her face burning into his back as he leaves.

──────

She hasn't moved from her seat on the couch in the entirety of their absence. With every minute that shows no sign of their return, her heart beats faster, guilt beginning to seep into her pores.

Stuck in this spiral of horrible, self-deprecating thoughts, she's startled when the doors slam open and the three Originals come marching into the compound.

She stands up, eyes wide as she takes in the drying blood staining their skin and their clothes, but can't stop the wave of relief that washes over her at the sight of them all alive.

Rebekah has a slight limp to her step and Elijah seems to be favoring his left side more than usual, and there's blood on Klaus's face that she knows is his, but they're alive.

She lets out a shaky breath as Klaus walks towards her, Elijah and Rebekah heading for the stairs to likely clean themselves up and find a blood source to suck dry and finish healing.

"I was wrong," She sighs, eyes closing in abatement. "I'm so glad I was–"

She's cut off by Klaus's palms cupping her cheeks, and her eyes snap open when she feels the press of his plush lips against hers. She makes a noise of utter surprise that quickly dissipates into a noise of pleasure, and her eyes flutter shut as she lets him deepen the kiss, stealing the breath right out of her lungs.

She chases him as he pulls away, but he stops her, dragging his thumbs gently along her cheekbones as he looks at her with a look she'd dare call adoring.

It takes her breath all over again and she squirms beneath it, feeling like she's teetering on the edge of something big.

"What," She breathes out, licking her lips like she can still feel the weight of his on them. "What was that for?"

"You were right," He says, his voice rough. "You were right. They had white oak stakes and they tried to kill us. The only reason we survived is because of what you told us,"

Her eyes widen and she looks up at him in disbelief. "But... I'm never right. I'm cursed,"

He shakes his head, lips pulling up into a smile, creasing the dried blood on his cheek. "No, you're not, darling. You saved my life. You saved my family,"

Her throat tightens, thick with emotion, and she isn't entirely proud of the way her voice shakes when she speaks. "You listened?"

Klaus's gaze warms with fondness and he gives her a smile that makes her heart race for entirely new reasons. "To you? Always."

[therhythmafterthesummer]

The Taste of Love (M) ~Lee Know

Pairing: Vampire!Minho x Human!F.Reader Themes: Supernatural/Fantasy AU | Smut | Some Fluff | Mediaeval Setting Word Count: ~3k | AO3 Synopsis: Every handful of centuries, Minho found himself someone that was willing to let him feed off of them. It usually wasn’t planned, it sort of just happened. This time, that person was you, the baker that had just moved into town. He wanted nothing more than to have a taste of you, in more ways than one. Warnings: Minho’s POV · blood (duh) · vampire shenanigans (good ol’ blood sucking) · reader is implied to be chubby, but there’s not that much focus on it · possibly inaccurate mediaeval terminology · graphic depictions of intercourse (smut warnings under the cut).

Author’s Note: will i ever get tired of vampire!minho? no, i won’t. this is all just some monsterfuckery, as usual. don’t look at me 🫣 special thanks to @comet-falls for reading this before anyone else and letting me know it didn’t suck💜

Due to all the abovementioned warnings, this story is intended for an adult audience only. Minors please do not interact.

Smut Warnings: implied/referenced sexual acts · some sort of bloodplay, but this is a vampire fic, what did you expect? · explicit oral (F.Rec)

Disclaimer: the story represented in this work does not represent Stray Kids in any way; anything described in this story and all actions performed by the characters are purely fictional, this was created just for good fun.

Ever since Minho was turned, he’d had trouble dealing with his feedings. 

For long periods of time, he’d settled on a vegetarian diet, hunting deer, or moose, or any possible animal he could find in the woods. Every couple of centuries, though, he’d be lucky enough to find someone fucked up in the head enough to let him feed off of them. It was something he tended to avoid, because he’d inevitably grow attached, and getting attached to someone that aged and eventually died was something that took an immense toll on the tiny bit of humanity that was left in him.

Sometimes, though, it was unavoidable. Or, at least, it felt like it to him. 

The first time you crossed his path was during the very early morning, way before the sun rose in the horizon. Minho had just fed, he’d had so much the poor cow didn’t even make it. He was seemingly satisfied enough to go on for a few days without any more of his crimson sustenance, but the second you walked past him, his mouth went dry.

What an intoxicating scent, you had… Enough to cloud his reason completely, enough to make him turn around and walk after you–discreetly, of course. If years and years living in hiding had taught him anything, it was the art of discretion.

Minho knew it was wrong. That what he was doing was beyond creepy and immoral, but he needed to know who you were, he just did. So he followed you until you made it to a building, a new bakery that had settled in town just last week.

Soon after, the smell of baked goods started to emanate from the building’s chimney. It was pleasant, but nothing compared to the smell of you.

Minho left the place shortly after that, right before the sun started to show his head in the sky, and, as he walked the familiar paths to his manor in the outskirts of the town, he figured it was time for him to open himself up again. Now, it was just a matter of courting you, in hopes that you’d give him the time of day.

Trying to get someone’s attention while being a creature of the night wasn’t exactly easy. That was something Minho quickly came to find out after he turned. Which was why, the only times he was able to see you was either in the early morning when you went to your bakery and started preparing your goods, or in the late evening when you finally closed shop and made your way home.

The first time he tried to approach you, a friend of yours suddenly came out of nowhere, and Minho, admittedly, felt a bit shy, so he decided to try some other time. He’d lived for centuries, he was stronger, more dexterous than any human, and somehow he still felt uncomfortable around strangers sometimes. He often called this curse of introversion the remnants of his humanity.

He continued to try, though. He was persistent, but each attempt always failed. To this day, he found it both amusing and mortifying that the evening he finally got to meet you, to actually speak to you, was also the one he made a fool of himself. What was all vampiric dexterity worth for if he was still able to trip over his feet and fall face first to the ground?

Thankfully for him, you had quite the sense of humour, and his mishap simply made you laugh and offer your hand to help him to his feet. Your reaction made it so Minho didn’t feel half as embarrassed as he usually would, so it was easy for him to recover and start chatting you up.

After getting acquainted with you, Minho reached the same dilemma he always had in situations like these… He wanted you. Not only that delicious nectar that flowed through your veins, but also everything that laid under your clothes, and, most of all, your company.

He knew he had to reveal his true self to you, and if you wanted him back, vampirism and all, it’d all be smooth and dandy. However, if you didn’t, he’d have to make a choice… Respect your decision and leave you alone forever, or do as many of his peers did, to give into his instincts, drink you up, erase your memory, and carry on with his life as if nothing had happened.

When he had been recently turned, Minho didn’t even entertain the possibility of taking someone’s blood without their consent, but, after having lived as long as he had, morality was a concept that seemed to shift and drift into a muddier construct. He’d always thought that, if he ever did something like that, then that’d be the moment he’d known that tiny bit of humanity in him had left him completely.

Luckily, when he did gather the courage to tell you the truth, even if you had been a bit shaken at first, you clearly liked him enough not to care about it. If anything, you were immensely curious about it all. ‘How old are you then?’, ‘Were things as bad back then as they said?’, ‘Did it hurt?’, ‘Does it hurt now?’

Minho answered any and every question you had for him, as honestly as he could–although, ometimes, he believed that if he was too honest or too straightforward he’d scare you off. ‘I’m really old’, ‘They were even worse’, ‘It did hurt. A lot…’, ‘It does not hurt as much anymore. Only when I am hit by sunlight or when I have not fed in a long time…’

When you inquired about his feedings, he simply told you of his vegetarian diet. He didn’t want to go too deep into it. You didn’t need to know which animals he drank from, nor how his vegetarian diet made it so he had to feed at least once a week, as opposed to how human blood would keep him satisfied for a whole month. 

He decided not to ask you to let him feed off of you just yet… Just like it happened when he wanted to tell you about his vampirism, he was also apprehensive of asking you to become his main source of sustenance.

After all, to Minho, not only did it feel like a major commitment, but, also, you could very well push him away due to the proposition, and he honestly wouldn’t blame you if you did. Although, losing you now was something he couldn’t afford. He was too used to walking you to your bakery in the very early morning, to spending evenings talking with you…

Regardless of his very obvious attraction, he genuinely enjoyed your company, and this was probably the most understood he’d felt after a long, long time. And also, to him, it felt like you were enjoying his company, too.

The first time Minho kissed you, it had been a spur of the moment thing. He was notorious for overthinking these things, for wanting the situation to be absolutely perfect, but you just smelt so good, and you looked so cute, and your heart was beating so fast in your chest there was no way he could’ve stopped the words from coming out of his mouth.

‘I really want to kiss you…’

Lame, basic, completely void of flourish or romanticism… But your heartbeat still quickened, he could hear your blood rushing through your veins, all the way to the utmost sensitive areas of your body. For a brief moment, he wished you could feel that reaction in him, too. He was certainly feeling it–or, at least, something akin to it, even when his body had long since been incapable of showing it.

‘Are you sure? I am no longer chaste…’ 

How ludicrous. As if something as trivial as that mattered to him. He’d lived for so long, he’d realised chastity was on its own a ridiculous concept. Almost no one was chaste after reaching a certain age, either because of the thoughts in their heads or the actual physical implications of the fact. Which was exactly what he told you.

If Minho’d had a working heart, he was sure it would’ve leaped out of his chest the second you pulled him to you for a kiss. 

Your lips were soft, warm, they had a faint taste of strawberry–surely from one of your jam-filled pastries–and an undeniable taste of you. As he kissed you, as he held you close to him by the waist, Minho realised he was cursed now.

There was no way he wouldn’t be bound to you after this, after savouring the feeling of your warmth against his body, of your soft flesh under his hands… Things escalated further than he had ever expected that night, but he wasn’t going to complain, not when the sight of you, vulnerable, completely bare on his bed, was everything he could’ve ever dreamt of.

Minho knew then that he was ready to spend the next handful of decades with you, for as long as your mortal life lasted, or for as long as you wanted him to.

The first time you brought up the topic of feeding to him, Minho almost didn’t believe his ears.

‘Have you ever thought of feeding off of me, my love? Of drinking me up?’

It was not only the two questions themselves, but also the way you’d asked them, and your overall body language as you did, that made him think he was delirious. You didn’t sound scared, nor disgusted. If anything, there was a lingering curiosity in your tone, and, most importantly, a dangerous tint of sultriness, maybe even arousal, that hung to your every word.

‘Of course I have, my dear. More times than I could ever count…’

Minho had no reservations when he answered your queries. How could he, when you had shown him nothing but acceptance and love throughout these past handful of months? When you seemed to have absolutely no qualms when it came to his monstrous ways?

‘Would you like to do it?’

If he had the ability to, he was sure he would’ve fainted right then and there.

Of course he would like to do it. Scratch that, he would love to do it. There was barely anything he wanted more than to taste the scarlet liquid running through your veins, to have the undeniable taste of your humanity on his tongue.

What was seemingly an innocent walk along the stream in the forest had just turned into, quite possibly, one of the most satisfying feeds he’d had in centuries.

Minho sat on the ground, under one of the many trees that seemed to provide you two with an odd sense of privacy. Odd, because you were pretty much still in an open space.

Interestingly enough, even when Minho was a monster, he was still just as part of nature as you were, and, that night, all that booming life surrounding you in the forest simply protected you both; it let nature take its course.

With you straddling his lap, with one of his hands on the small of your back, and the other on the side of your neck, Minho pressed his lips to your pulse point, almost salivating at the minute thumps of your heart against his skin. You shivered in his hold, keeping your hands on his shoulders to maintain your posture.

“Do not make any sudden movements, darling. I do not want to hurt you…” He mumbled against the fragile skin, humming in satisfaction once you nodded. “If it becomes too much, say it. Or squeeze me if talking is too difficult, alright?”

You hummed, nodding again. Minho seriously hoped he’d be able to stop if you showed any signs of discomfort. He hadn’t had human blood in so long he wasn’t really sure how he’d react. Killing you was a very real possibility, he’d told you already, but you still wanted to go through with this. Being honest, he was just a weak man, incapable of passing up the opportunity when it was so boldly presented to him, even when it could possibly take your life.

So he delayed no further. He located the safest area he could on your neck, one where not too many important veins resided, and after a couple of tentative licks on your skin, his fangs enlarged. He lightly dragged them over your throat, letting you feel not only their presence, but also their sharpness.

“Take a deep breath. Do not move too much”, his voice was barely a whisper, but he knew you heard him clear as day.

As soon as you took that deep breath he’d asked you for, his teeth sank on your flesh, piercing the skin like it was a knife cutting room temperature butter. You didn’t move, but the moan that came out of your mouth was more than indication enough that you’d felt it all.

When your taste flooded his mouth, Minho couldn’t help but moan as well. It was all so much better than he had imagined. His whole body trembled, he felt as if he was burning up from the inside out in the best way possible, and he just closed his eyes to enjoy the taste of you.

What an absolutely delectable taste… So much so he had to remind himself to stop before it was too late. He was sure he had drank a bit too much for comfort, but you didn’t protest, you didn’t move one centimetre out of place, you just let him take as much as his heart desired, either because you trusted him that much, or because you had your own personal gains from this exchange–after all, no one just simply offered themselves to a vampire unless they had their own carnal reasons for it.

After soothing the pair of puncture wounds with his tongue, Minho finally pulled away from your neck to look you in the eyes. What he found was your blown pupils, your lips slightly parted as you took in ragged breaths, and even though his fangs were still very much at their full length, you immediately cupped his cheeks and pulled him in for a heated kiss.

It was messy, desperate, he was sure there was still some of your blood on his mouth that was now smearing all over yours, and he had to be careful not to hurt you with his teeth, but you didn’t seem to mind or care at all. You just kissed him like you needed him to breathe, and he let you indulge, mostly because he himself wanted nothing more than to have you as close as he possibly could.

Minho was constantly grateful that you’d crossed his path all those months ago, that you decided to move to this specific town in the first place. Not only did you let him drink your blood, but you also brought an irreplaceable spark to his lacklustre immortal life.

He tried not to think too much of the future, of the moment you’d inevitably pass away. There was no point in grieving this far ahead, he needed to remind himself that, yes, it would happen, but there were hopefully still many years before it did.

Enjoying the present was of the utmost importance. Especially when the present was you on his bed, with your legs over his shoulders and his mouth attached to your plump, warm centre.

All the sighs, and moans, and deep breaths, always reminded him you were here, you were his, and that you trusted him. You trusted him enough to bare yourself to him, to move in with him to his previously lonely manor in the outskirts of town, and to let him feed once a month from any area of your body he wanted to.

Feeding off of a human’s neck was usually the most traditional way, but when Minho found a suitable partner, he always liked to get creative. He’d admit there were spots he usually preferred, that he enjoyed much, much more than the neck. The softer the area was, the better. It was always much tastier, especially so once pleasure was coursing through his partner’s veins.

Thankfully for him, you had plenty of those softer, squishier areas, and you also had no reservations when he wanted to sink his teeth in them. He was trying his best not to get ahead of himself. Getting his fangs to their full length when he had his mouth between your legs was incredibly inconvenient, he genuinely didn’t want to hurt you, and he was certain that the sharp tip of his teeth would damage such a sensitive area of your body.

With a hand on your belly, and the other on your thigh, Minho let himself enjoy the taste of your arousal on his tongue. Your grip on his hair was tight, but you made no move to push him away; if anything, you were pulling him further into you, as much as he could be, keeping him there for as long as he’d let you.

Licking his way up to your clit, he sucked the sensitive nub into his mouth, parting his lips enough to flick it with his tongue. The moan of his name that spilled from your lips made his head spin. Your legs trembled with his motions, especially so when he finally brought his hand from your thigh close to your core to spread your juices with two of his digits.

Minho teased you for a bit, dipping just the tip of his fingers into you only to remove them a second after, increasing the pressure and pace of his tongue. At least, he tried to tease you… It was hard to do so when you begged so sweetly from him. Never in his long life had he enjoyed the sound of the word ‘Please’ coming out of someone else’s mouth as much as he did now, even more so when you called him your love, your darling, your heart. 

My, my, my… Every time you addressed him as such he couldn’t help but feel the tiniest bit human again. If he had a working heart, he was sure he’d feel it swell in his chest. Yours, yours, yours… He was yours. For as long as you lived, he’d be yours.

When Minho finally stuffed those two digits within your warmth, the sight of your head falling back against the pillows was enough to let him know it was time. He was thirsty, and he was ready to give in to his primal needs.

He removed his mouth from your skin, but he kept massaging that sweet spot within your walls that had your toes curling with need. “Going to do it now, my love. Hm?”

You nodded. “Please, darling…”

Minho hummed, giving your clit one more affectionate kiss before he replaced his mouth with his thumb. If he could die, you’d be the death of him for sure.

He kept rubbing precise circles on the apex of your thighs, dragging his fingers within your clamping walls. At least, as precisely as he could while he attached his mouth to your soft tummy. Already, his fangs made an appearance, it didn’t take much for them to whenever he knew he was about to puncture your skin. It was second nature at this point.

Sometimes, Minho liked to start with your belly. Yes, start. He’d developed a bit more self control since he started to feed off of you, so he used that to his advantage, to feed off of as many parts of your body as he could.

When his teeth sunk on your flesh, you exhaled a shaky breath. Oh, how sweet you tasted whenever his fingers were on you like this. He could not only smell your arousal, but also taste it on his tongue when he started to drink you up. It was intoxicating, fulfilling, it was absolutely everything to him.

Before he could get carried away, Minho pulled away from your tummy, swiftly reattaching his lips to one of your thighs instead. He repeated the motions, puncturing your skin, drinking your essence, soothing the wounds with his tongue only to move along to the next area.

By the time he was full, you were trembling, whining, begging for your release. So he cleaned the remnants of your blood with the back of his hand before his lips found their way between your legs once again. Minho tried his best to will his fangs to decrease in size, at least enough for his own comfort. At this point, he was absolutely sure you wouldn’t mind, if anything, it’d probably turn you own, but he still wanted to be careful.

As soon as he started to suck on your swollen nub, as soon as the pace of his fingers increased, unintelligible noises of pleasure fell from your mouth. It didn’t take long for you to finally find your release, swearing and saying his name time and time again. Minho loved to feel your warmth around his fingers, especially as it spasmed with the aftershocks of your orgasm. Somehow, it always made him feel even fuller than when he fed.

When he was sure you’d enjoyed as much of your pleasure as you could, he finally removed his fingers, and he simply kissed his way up your body, until his lips finally found yours. You sighed, a content sigh that had him feeling tingly all over, just as you hugged him close to you and pressed tired kisses on his lips.

“Feeling fine, my dear?” Minho mumbled between kisses, relishing the fast pace of your heart against his chest.

“Mm… Just a bit lightheaded”, you mumbled back, dragging your fingers through his hair, making him shiver.

After a few minutes of kissing, of reassuring words against the other’s skin, Minho pulled himself away from your tight hug so he could fetch you some food. It was important for you to replenish your body, the healthier you were, the more he’d be able to feed, but most importantly, the longer you’d live.

As he fed you your meal, as he engaged in conversation with you, Minho reminded himself once again how important it was to live in the present, to not worry about the impending future of your relationship. You were on his bed, laughing, smiling, joking about how he’d almost made you a colander tonight, telling him story after story of odd encounters you had with your customers, and, for now, that was more than enough for him.

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Constructive feedback (or even keysmashes, really) is always welcome :)

[luvtoruz]

minors dni! author's note; hey there pretty [>;)], don't hate this please, i'm begging. it's my first time writing smut, and i'm very surprised with how much i was able to write- i apologize in advance for any errors made, english isn't my first language so please do excuse me. likes and rb's are very much appreciated darlings dom gojo x sub gn!reader word count; 1.6k warnings; possessive gojo, possessive reader [if you squint], voyeurism [they fuck in front of a window], reader digs their nails into gojo, degradation, reader is called sugar + honey + pretty + baby, genitals reffered to as 'bud' once, slightly rough?? and idk what else, please do tell me if there's any other warning i forgot to add]. smut below the cut

Gojo loves showing off. He loves showing off his abilities, but the joy he gets from that is nothing compared to when he shows you off. He loves it when you talk about him to your friends, and when you invite him over to hang out. He makes sure that everyone knows that you're his pretty baby, wouldn't want people hitting on him thinking he's single, now, would we?

.

The table erupts in laughter as your boyfriend makes a joke. Sometimes you wonder whether people go with whatever he does just for the sake of pleasing him, he is 'The Gojo Satoru' after all. You roll your eyes and laugh, "Every time I think you can't make a worse joke, you prove me wrong."

"Yet you're still laughing sweetheart," he grins. "Cause it's so bad it's funny," you remark. The joke was funny, you just didn't want him thinking he said something that made him laugh, his ego was already through the roof.

"I swear! 'Toru's always going around thinking he's hilarious," a man laughs from across the table. You laugh uncomfortably at the use of his nickname. Your boyfriend's the first to notice your discomfort. He raises a brow "Since when did anyone other than my sugar start calling me 'Toru, huh? Last time I checked I only let one person call me that." His signature grin drops. "Let's try not to mess up again, right?" He looks over at you as you try to hide a smile.

It's been an hour now, and you can tell that the restaurant staff is getting tired, it was valid, considering that they would have been home hours ago if it wasn't for Gojo reserving the place for a so-called, 'quick' gathering. Everyone finally leaves and he pays for the meal and reservation before leaving to his car with you.

"So, how was it?" He smiles as he starts the car. "It was alright," you sigh, "Your friends are close to you, huh?" He furrows his brows, "Is this about the 'toru thing?". You nod, "Everyone wants to get in your pants, even though they know that we're a thing. Pisses me o-" You're cut off by him kissing you gently, lightly nipping at your bottom lip playfully before pulling away. "I don't care about them, only care about you, so don't go around thinking otherwise… Or I might have to prove you wrong," he smirks. Your cheeks heat up at the thought of him 'proving you wrong,' and you chuckle, "Is that a threat?" "Me? Threaten you? Oh no, sugar, it's a promise," he remarks.

He smirks when you widen your eyes, "Did I get someone flustered already?" Your breath catches in your chest as he leans close to you, his breath tickling the skin of your neck, "What? Lost your words all of a sudden?" You look away quickly as thoughts of him fucking you senseless plague your mind.

The drive home was painfully slow, his hand keep trailing up your inner thighs and everyone once in a while brushed against your underwear. It wasn't like the cold air conditioning helped either, by the end of the drive, your wetness was clearly showing through your pants. You could tell he noticed by the way he'd keep 'accidentally' brushing his calloused fingers on there.

He unlocks the door and enters his apartment after you do. The first thing that catches your eye is the familiar cityscape, the highlight of his apartment was the glass wall that showcased Tokyo's nightlife. His hands find their way to your waist before he wraps them around you and nuzzles his head into your neck. He kisses you gently before giggling, "Noticed you got a little problem there." You look down, oh right.

"I could always help you if you asked, baby, I'm always up to help my pretty babe in any-" he leaves a kiss on your neck, "-way I can." You shiver at his hot breath running down your neck. "What do you say, sugar?" He looks up at you expectantly.

You respond with a nod. "I'm going to need better than that baby, use your words," you knew he could tell the effect he had on you. "'Toru, please," you whine. "Please what?" He grins. "Please fuck me, please, I'll be good I promise I just want you," he hushes you gently before kissing your lips. "All you have to do is ask, baby," he turns you around.

"Take my shirt off," he mumbles against your lips. You quickly start unbuttoning his shirt and pull away to take his shirt off. He does the same to you before taking your pants off. He quickly unbuttons his pants and throws them onto the couch. "How do you want it today sugar? Do you want me to be rough or gentle? I want whatever you want from today," you wrap your arms around his neck before mumbling "I'd like you to be rough please," the heat from earlier creeps up to your cheeks.

"Oh yeah? Get down on your knees for me sugar, c'mon now," you get down onto your knees, your face now directly on level with his cock. "You wanna' suck me off? Does my slutty bitch wanna' make me feel good?" You nod desperately. He laughs "Kiss it, over my boxers, and no open mouthed-kisses," he chuckles when you whine. You slowly kiss along his shaft, until you find the wet spot near the tip where you can feel his precum pooling.

He smirks as he feels you lick his taste off your lips, "Aww, someone can't wait to taste me on their tongue huh? Certainly eager, aren't you?" You nod embarrassedly. "Aww, it's okay baby," faux sympathy laces his voice, "It must be so hard to keep yourself from tasting me hmm? You want to take all of me in? Is that it baby?"

"Yeah, please, please let me suck you off I promise I'll do a good job," you whine breathily. He pulls his boxers down and watches as you immediately start licking the pink head of his cock. His pre tastes like ambrosia, and you can feel yourself leaking. Fuck, he could make you come just by letting you suck him off.

You try to take him all in and make sure your hands massage what you can't make. He throws his head back in pleasure, one of his hands finds its way to your hair and pulls you closer to his crotch while the other rubs your nape. "You're doing such a good job for me, aren't you? My sugar's so slutty for me, huh? So eager to please me," he groans.

He feels himself getting closer to the edge before asking you to stop, he pants breathily. "I don't want to come undone that quickly," he looks down at you. "Get up, I want to fuck you straight," you nod as you get up and off your knees quickly. He kisses you passionately, "Wrap your legs around my waist hon'," you do as you're asked and he takes you to the window, your now bare back pressed up against the cold glass. He smirks as you shiver against him. "I want everyone to see who my slut belongs to," he squeezes your ass before slapping it. You gasp as he trails kisses along your neck.

Your hands find their way to his hair as he lets one of his hands wander to your . One of his hands take care of your sensitive bud while the other holds you in place. "Yeah that feel good? Hmm? Think you could cum from just this?" You buck your hips into his hand. "My baby can't handle it hmm? Is that it? Should I stop right now?" You shake your head no. He chuckles raspily before leaning in to kiss you, "my baby wants to cum so bad doesn't he?" You whine, "Please just, just wan' your cock inside me." He kisses your forehead, "I know baby, I know. You can't come without my cock can you?" He coos. He lifts you up slightly before lining his dick along your hole. He wasn't exactly thick, but his length made up for it, his dick had a curve that somehow always managed to hit the spot that made you see stars. You mewled as he bottomed in you. "Can I move now baby?" he looks at you for approval, you nod hazily. He starts pounding into you gently, your hands leave his neck to grip his shoulders. You dig crests into his shoulders as you arch your back once he hits your sweet spot. "Oh fuck yeah baby, mark me," he kisses you as you dig your nails deeper into his skin. "Mark me as yours, I'm yours sugar, only yours." His thrusts speed up as you whine. "Please- 'Toru 'm so close-" your gasps and groans fill the the otherwise quiet room. "Gonna cum f'me honey? Yeah, yeah, oh yeah baby?" He mocks the tone you whine in. He lets oud a lewd groan as you clench around him before cumming in you. Shortly after him, you release, back arched against the tinted window.

Heavy breathing fills the room as he carries you to the sofa. The cold leather a contrast to his warm breath on your neck. He lies on top of you, ensuring you're both comfortable. He takes a deep breath before giggling and looking up at you, "I love you," his smirk now back on his face. You roll your eyes, "I guess I do too." He raises a brow, "Hey if I asked you this like a second ago-" he's interrupted by you playfully slapping his arm. "We do not talk about that," the both of you laugh.

© luvtoruz 2023 — all rights reserved. do not modify, translate, copy, or upload my work onto other sites.

[acourtofthought]

For a female that clearly had no issues asserting herself in SF, who stood up to Nesta about not being allowed to tell her what she can and can't do, who told Feyre that she wanted to join at the Hewn City despite Feyre telling her she could stay home, it's really strange how Elain hasn't vocalized to anyone that Az is what she wants.

Eluciens believe Elain is purposely avoiding her draw to Lucien just as Nesta did with Cassian, that she doesn't want to let herself want him so she's throwing herself into trying to make a life for herself. Making friends, finding a purpose in the NC, convincing herself she could be happy with someone else. We believe Elain is hiding from her truth so we're not getting the full story about how happy she truly is. Where her stubbornness over being made, losing her fiance, her insistence that she doesn't want a mate is the driving force which keeps her from reaching out to Lucien even though he's suffering. That's typically the setup for a SJM FMC and many fantasy authors.

In contrast, E/riels believe it's confirmed Elain wants to be with Az, that she's known for quite some time she wants to be with Az but....she hasn't done anything to make that known to the others. There's nothing standing in her way from being with him, no stubbornness at the hand fate dealt her, no anger that her ex fiance rejected her partially because of her relationship to Az (the way we saw with Graysens reaction to Lucien). Elain told Feyre she didn't want a male or mate which E/riels use as proof she doesn't want Lucien. So if her past statements hold true and she had no issues announcing to Feyre that she doesn't want Lucien, why does she seem to have such an issue with saying she does want Az?

Elain fought harder to search for the Trove than she's fought to let anyone know Az means something to her (nobody in the NC thinks he does) though he's supposedly struggling with her bond. Where is her consideration for his feelings when she cares so much for him already? She's so happy and content in the Night Court according to some yet we know Az avoided her for months which indicates she hasn't minded his absence though her feelings for him are "obviously" so deep. I don't know, if I was in love with someone and they chose to stay away from me I'd be hurt, not happily living my life. And if I was aware of my feelings for someone (and not hiding from them as Elucien's believe) and saw them struggling, I would be checking on them, spending time with them. She's happy and content yet Az according to the bonus isn't sleeping well and is full of negative emotions about himself. If you're a fan of e/riel wouldn't you be a little irritated with Elain for living her best life while Az is struggling and she's not shown any interest in reaching out to him when she's said to already care for him and already wants to be with him?

If Elain does have true happiness in the NC it has nothing to do with Az and everything to do with her ability to make the best of any situation. In fact, the only thing Az brought Elain in SF was one charged look after his confirmed absence and then hurt and rejection.

Despite all that, just because Elain found some happiness in the Night Court, it doesn't mean that's where she's going to truly thrive which I think is evident. Sarah laid many hints that Elain's happiness is not the ultimate in what a FMCs happiness can look like. Some people can find bits of happiness wherever they are, they're called optimists which Elain is but the current version of Elain still does not look like the version of Elain we saw at the end of ACOTAR. Sometimes people look for the good no matter what comes their way but those same people can later come to the realization that the happiness they once had can't compare to the happiness they discover elsewhere.

[msbhagirathi]

Word Prompt "Colly wobbles" for the IPK 13th Anniversary Fiesta by @arshifiesta.

Character: Kaveri Khushi Gupta, Arnav Varun a.k.a AV

FF: A River Runs Through It

Author: meera30

Reason: Coz I am in love with this ff right now. Now stop finding reasons and read on.

Khushi didn't know how did he do it. It was freezing cold outside in Detroit and here was the man in question giving out a presentation which he had prepared ~in merely five minutes~ before the meeting had to be started urgently.

Clad in a crisp white shirt rolled up to his forearms, the angry gash visible just as a slip of cut, the jacket and the waistcoat already lying on the chairback. Tie hanging a lil bit loose from its usual place. Shiny charcoal colored trousers hugged his legs like a second skin. Yet, he looked as fresh and energetic as ever.

Illegal.

How can he be so perfect?

Why did I of all people had to fall for him?

She knew that her being physically bulky had nothing to do with who she fell in love with. And yet she felt a bit wretched for having fallen for such a personification of perfection.

Sometimes, she didn't know which one was more comforting? To have been immune from his charm and just keeping to herself in college or having badly fallen for him strong enough to keep away all the strangers she had met just so she could forget that one man. And yet, the 'date other men to forget him' idea was as terrible as it sounded.

As she could go no further then two minutes of looking at them and instantly comparing them to him. She knew she was being horribly desperate. But then anyone would be if the man in question was the subject of discussion...

She started scribbling an insignia (for the umpteenth time) in her notepad which she had used earlier to jot down the good points.

"Ms. Gupta. Its good that you are at least concentrating on something but I would much rather that something to be nothing but this presentation."

Arnav Varun was looking at her with that knowing smile as if he had found a key to a mystery puzzle he was looking for. His glasses gleaming at an angle.

Embarrassed at being in the wrong side, Khushi immediately changed the page and looked up at the projector screen.

"Sorry sir."

Did he know?

Had he seen her drawing his name initials in her notepad with such an interest?

What was with that smile?

And yet now he continued with his presentation as if nothing had happened. Voice unflinching and firm. Emanating an authority. An air of importance.

Hey shivji! Why do I have to be the one target that you are never tired of playing with?

The gravel in his voice still used to send chills down her spine in a good way of course.

"Okay everyone that would be it for now. If I happen to have something else I would be calling all of you back. Please be ready for more impromptu meetings this week. If anyone has any questions please do ask or you're free to leave, thank you for your attention."

Khushi gingerly raised up from her chair praying to let her go to a certain someone sitting in the Kailash parvat with his wife who loved creating sweet troubles for her in situations like these. She quickly wanted to slip away along with the rest of the others.

But, Arnav Varun didn't let that happen. He looked up from his laptop at her.

Please don't tell me to stay back.

Please tell me the one thing I am yearning to hear from you for half a decade now.

Please let me go.

Please stop me and kiss me.

Hey shivji! She might have as well become a lunatic by now.

She was about to leave when..

"Khushi.."

She turned back only to find him sitting at his chair relaxed. All tension and seriousness gone with everyone else from the room. He sipped his glass of chilled water.

There was something in this man that made her feel at peace and nervous at the same time.

"Yes sir."

She heard the sound of her voice which shivered slightly.

Don't get the wrong idea okay? I am DEFINITELY NOT scared of you.

"No 'sir' please, just AV, when we are alone."

"Okay.. AV.'

He smiled.

"Show me your notepad once Khushi."

NO. PLEASE NOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO.

'Uhh.. I am in need of it urg-"

"Yeah yeah I know you need it I had seen you noting down points in it. But please I assure you I don't eat paper and I would return it within a few sec. Please?"

Khushi very hesitantly held it out and before he could open it to her eternal mortification and second hand embarrassment, Arjun's name came flashing out on her mobile screen.

A whole wave of relief hit her whole being as she excused herself to pick it up as an important call, leaving behind all her things in the room.

After fifteen minutes when she came back to her cabin she realized she had left all her things in the meeting room. She was about to sprint back to the room. When she spotted her things: her laptop bag, her water bottle and her notepad neatly sitting in the center of her desk.

At lunch break, she entered the cafeteria and already found the whole team along with (of course) AV himself sitting at the corner-most booth. She walked up and sat at the chair two seats away from him. She saw his phone lying on the table.

Suddenly it came alive with a notification and she saw the lock screen. A sprawly drawing. Careless strokes of blue ball point pen. Carved into the paper on a ruled page which seemed familiar.

An insignia, which she had scribbled on her notepad, out of boredom, sitting in the meeting room, a few hours ago. She couldn't believe her eyes.

Heat rushed to her ears and a slow blush crept onto her face and refused to go away. She couldn't believe the fact that Arnav Varun had taken a click of her drawing and set it as the lock screen on his phone.

Out of the corner of her eyes, she saw him check the notification and quickly closed off the screen, checking if anyone else noticed it or not and went back to the conversation going on.

Khushi couldn't pull out the image of her insignia on his phone screen. Her mind kept replaying the image and she couldn't stop herself from blushing. Her body had gone into over-drive. Her heart was fluttering. Her hands and legs felt shaky. Her palms felt clammy. Warmth surrounding her face and neck and the rest of her body. Her stomach was in colly-wobbles.

Hey shivji, please, I must be looking like an idiot. Please help me staaaap this blushing, my cheeks are hurting now. Uff. Stupid AV. Stupid me.

[pluto01doesart]

5 Reasons Why Tsukasa Doumyoji is Twisted To Begin With... (Sorta)

HIS UPBRINGING:

This crazy dude grew up in a lonely environment, despite having everything he ever wanted handed to him on a silver platter most of his life. he felt neglected, abandoned, from a young age. Even if he had his sister around, his parents hardly ever talk to him unless it's BUSINESS RELATED.

At least he has the F4, but even so he developed all types of issues growing up...because of Tsubaki's beating and lack of right experience in disciplines and authority, (manga mainly.)

He was mostly influenced by the high and mighty people of the rich society, given that he comes from a billionaire family. He used the power of his own wealth and money, even wrongly methods to achieve his somewhat toxic goals. He's abusive most of the time only because he was judged by his intimidating looks and being also part of the F4.

HIS MOTHER:

He's like another clone of her but compared to him she's way worse and bitchier. Her ways sometimes could've also had the possibility of influencing him growing up. But that wasn't it, his case turned out much more different thanks to this gal.

A Boy With A Wounded Heart Who Wants Nothing But To Be Loved.

He came to learn eventually that not everything can be bought or obtained the way you wanted it to, his character development is STILL INSANE TO ME!

HIS SIMPLE MINDEDNESS:

In a way, it was the case when it came to his actions. He was rather pushy and forceful because he was so desperate for love and care from those around him, he just didn't express himself quite well because he was so closed off as a child which is a reason he became inhumane at times, he needed someone that could tolerate his personality and yet correct the error of his ways no matter how far they went.

Since he thought that he could always get what he wanted with power, money and shit...he had to learn the hard way that humans from middle-class families aren't tools just because you act above them and ya always gotta be on top.

HIS SELF PRIDE AND ARROGANCE:

A person like him doesn't take a no for an answer or something he inherited from his old hag, however that's part of his personality as long as it's friendly and amusing- but when it's used for reasons like revenge and paybacks In a despicable way then it's super toxic. He's too blind to actually take action of his responsibilities and everything and needs someone to rebuke him like 24/7 because he's that naive, innocent and ignorant

His character was ORIGINALLY SUPPOSED TO BE FLAWED AND A TOTAL RED FLAG!! That's how character development happened. Without this shit the story would not have any starting points, however that does not excuse how abusive he was! In both the anime and manga that's why I personally tended to avoid watching the anime.

Still as a person who usually doesn't prefer live action over anime j or k even c dramas, I would personally still choose the homeland of this Shojo which is Japan.

Hating his guts at first I wanted to see the outcome of his evolution throughout their crazy journey together from enemies to friends then lovers. But for the past two years my obsessions with all the versions haven't really died down.

Their variety of personality in the F4 group is ceaseless. My personal fav is Akira the same one who holds the group together, to me he's way more underrated than the other two.

Also Jun actually portrayed the character beautifully I don't think anyone else could've done it like he did!!

[angelwheat]

Support team with a short s/o? (5'1-5'2) Cause let's be for real those guys are HUGE. Probably like gently manhandling their lover n stuff (｡•́︿•̀｡)

Support Class ; Short S/O

author's note: these guys are certified giants haha. i didn't want to run too deep with man-handling and such just to keep it safe for all audiences for now. thanks for the request.

warnings: none | pronouns: neutral

Medic

He's such a tease about the height difference. Sometimes Medic will softly pat the top of his S/O's head when they stand by him, and he chuckles if they pout at him for it. But he secretly finds it so adorable that they look so tiny compared to him. Medic can (and will) lift his S/O off their feet with ease, and lightly pokes fun at them when he brings them to his eye level. He's not silly all the time about it, but it's just the contrast between you both that makes him smile. However, Medic will defend his S/O to no end if anyone else makes fun of their height, and he's always the first to help you reach something on a higher shelf, if need be. He uses a lot of nicknames with "little", usually in his native tongue. Medic once called them "little dove" and it's been his favourite ever since.

Sniper

He generally thought nothing off the height difference when he first met them, until they stood next to him and he noticed how adorably cute they were next to his giant self. Sniper has to hide his face away behind his hat sometimes because he's smiling so much at how they're pouting at his playful teasing. He finds it adorable how his S/O will sometimes stand on their tip-toes to kiss him and always hugs their waist when they do. He teases more than anyone else by holding things out of reach, or purposely putting things on higher shelves. But when his S/O whines and pouts he'll give in. Sniper has a habit of placing his hat on their head, or ruffling their hair at random times. He might be fairly slim and lanky, but he has strength and will lift his S/O up to kiss them.

Spy

He's generally the sort to not to mention nor tease about the latter of their height at first, but secretly, it's adorable to see them standing beside him, and more often than not he has to contain the smile tugging at his lips. But behind closed doors, his S/O may even call him an ass for the way he teases. They'll typically find things of theirs out of reach on higher shelves, but it's only lighthearted, and Spy won't prolong reaching things for them. He uses loving nicknames for them, much like Medic, often using the term "little", but never in front of anyone. But Spy is very quick to pipe up in annoyance if anyone is to mock his S/O for their height. He often puts his arm around their waist and doesn't mention anything about needing to lean down to kiss them.

[kaylinalexanderbooks]

Writeblr Questionnaire

Thanks @illarian-rambling here, @paeliae-occasionally here, @willtheweaver here, @honeybewrites here, @urnumber1star here,

And @leahnardo-da-veggie here!

About You:

When did you start writing?

Genuinely I'm not sure, but I do have physical evidence that it's been a while. The first story I wrote was called "In the Dark." I was at the age where I drew several pictures with one color of marker with stick figures and my mom wrote the words for me. I'd say preschool-aged. I think I was three.

Are the genres/themes you enjoy reading different from the ones you write?

I am a person with a huge bias toward fantasy in the things I write and consume. However, I'm not picky with genres, it just happens to be a pattern. I really do love plenty of realistic fiction books. It just so happens that I have exactly one realistic fiction story in my WIP ideas. One. And even then, it needed a gimmick to be interesting for me to write. I have no interest in writing realistic fiction other than that. But I really do love plenty of realistic fiction books!

I want to write a mystery one day, but it'll have to be a fantasy mystery. I do love plenty of realistic fiction mystery books and shows and stuff. I could never write historical fiction, although that isn't a frequented genre to begin with.

Theme-wise, I couldn't say. I don't really care.

Is there an author (or just a fellow writer!) you want to emulate, or one to whom you’re often compared?

Nope. I think people will make their own comparisons, but there's no one in particular I am trying to emulate. I'm just me.

Can you tell me a little about your writing space(s)? (Room, coffee shop, desk, etc.)

Sometimes I just write on the couch or at a random place at school, but I've been going to my desk a lot more. It's just in my room, I'm on a swivel chair, and my laptop is on top of it. Nothing special.

What’s your most effective way to muster up some muse?

Read my old writing or my notes! I see stuff I forgot about or I get ideas from the details. Occasionally I'll check out a video or something if I'm truly stuck.

Did the place(s) you grew up in influence the people and places you write about?

Uh, yes. Why do you think I set the "real world" in a middle-class intermediate school in the greater Houston area on a six-lane FM road with a Sonic, Walgreens, and apartment complex nearby? It's a lot easier to describe things that way. Everywhere else I have to make up a floor plan for interiors and use Google Maps for the surrounding scenery.

Are there any recurring themes in your writing, and if so, do they surprise you at all?

A lot of queer and neurodivergent people. No, that does not surprise me. It me. It accident.

Friends-to-lovers is my most common romantic relationship, but there's also a lot of platonic and queerplatonic relationships.

Interpersonal relationships in general are huge themes of mine and appear in almost everything I write.

Since I write YA, there's a lot of coming of age.

None surprise me.

Your Characters:

Would you please tell me about your current favorite character? (Current WIP, past WIP, never used, etc.)

Oof that's hard. For TSP... I love talking about Carmen. She's such an asshole, but she's super interesting. I want to put her under a microscope and study her. She's a character I'm constantly thinking about. I like seeing why she does the things she does. She's developed into a character I originally didn't think much about, and now I can't stop! She's also funny. She doesn't mean to be, but she's so high-strung and angry that she is fun to write for.

For SOTL, it's Tierney. I have one chapter with him, but that doesn't matter. He's amazing and I love talking about him. He's a mess. He's a nerd. He's awkward. I love him.

Which of your characters do you think you’d be friends with in real life?

Well, the characters closest to my age are Liam and George, and I think I'd be friends with them! Liam may occasionally get on my nerves in the debate side of him, but I think I'd get used to it, especially because his part of the grilled cheese debate is based on someone I actually know and am friends with.

I'm not sure about being friends with the kids, but I do hang out with plenty due to being an educator, and I remember how I was at that age. Out of everyone, Robbie and Akash feel like they'd perfectly fit into my friend group, which may be why I love writing them so much. Individually I think Gwen is the one I'd be most likely to get along with.

I haven't written enough of SOTL, but I'd get along with Jill. Also Ritchie and their group of friends.

Which of your characters would you dislike the most if you met them?

Carmen, I'm so sorry, I would not like you. Gabriel also can get rude and boring. Noelle constantly mentioning her mom would get on my nerves, if I'm being honest. I feel like I could only take Parker in small doses, even if I really like Wade.

I'm not far enough in SOTL to make a decision except for the purposefully antagonistic characters.

Tell me about the process of coming up with of one, all, or any of your characters.

Well, TSP it really depends. Here are all the characters I think are worth mentioning for the entire series.

Originally based on someone I knew before developing a completely different personality: Lexi, Maddie, Ash, Gwen, Noelle, Rose, Kelsey, Carla, George, Hye-Jin, Atsila

They started out as someone completely different in previous drafts and then in the process of developing them I got attached: Jedi, Carmen

I created them for Draft Four as a love interests and then I got attached: Robbie, Akash

I created them in Draft Four to fill up the background: Liam, Ewan, Jazlyn, Wade, Parker, Tyler, Niri, Gabriel, Sam

I needed a name for a prominent figure and then I kept using it and they became important: Raissa

I needed characters for the AU didn't I?: Alex, Issa, CJ, Wendy

Background characters I had no intention of making important: Teo, Xitlali, Anathi

For SOTL, it's simple. Get a character from a fairy tale, nursery rhyme, fable, legend, other public domain work, etc and make them my own!

Do you notice any recurring themes/traits among your characters?

Most of them are queer and neurodivergent. Most are in the 11-25 range given the demographic I write in.

How do you picture them? (As real people you imagined, as models/actors who exist in real life, as imaginary artwork, as artwork you made or commissioned, anime style, etc.)

I want TSP and SOTL to both be in hand-drawn animation, so I imagine them like that. Western animation with anime inspiration like ATLA, Teen Titans, etc is what I typically imagine it in.

Your Writing:

What’s your reason for writing?

I love it!! And also I'd go insane. It's also why I write reviews and analyses of stuff. I've stayed up until 2 am before thinking thoughts on TV shows and I legit can't sleep until I've written an essay.

Is there a specific comment or type of comment you find particularly motivating coming from your readers?

I've gotten "oh I like this little detail" or "wow good dialogue" or "realistic friendship!!" And that always makes me happy.

How do you want to be thought of by those who read your work? (For example: as a literary genius, or as a writer who “gets” the human condition; as a talented worldbuilder, as a role model, etc.)

I just want people to like my characters, is that too much to ask?

What do you feel is your greatest strength as a writer?

I really like character building and details around their lives. I think I'm good at writing consistent characters because I've put so much work behind them.

What have you been frequently told your greatest writing strength is by others?

Dialogue! So many people comment on the realism of my dialogue, and I really like that!

How do you feel about your own writing? (Answer in whatever way you interpret this question.)

If it's at 1 am I think it's awful. When I read my old writing I cringe. Sometimes if I'm in a bad mood my self esteem plummets. But overall, when I look back, I see how far I've come. When I make a revision, even a small one, I smile because I know my writing is getting better. I just get excited about improvement!

If you were the last person on earth and knew your writing would never be read by another human, would you still write?

Yes because it helps me sleep. Were you not paying attention lol

When you write, are you influenced by what others might enjoy reading, or do you write purely what you enjoy? If it’s a mix of the two, which holds the most influence?

No. I write for ME.

Tagging @mk-writes-stuff @elsie-writes @eccaiia @mysticstarlightduck @chauceryfairytales

+ ANYONE ELSE

TSP intro

TSP tag list (ask to be +/-): @thepeculiarbird @illarian-rambling @televisionjester @finchwrites

@nebula--nix @literarynecromancy @honeybewrites @the-golden-comet

SOTL intro

SOTL tag list (ask to be +/-): @illarian-rambling @katwritesshit @wyked-ao3

Under the cut are the blank questions put together for easy copy/paste

About You: When did you start writing? Are the genres/themes you enjoy reading different from the ones you write? Is there an author (or just a fellow writer!) you want to emulate, or one to whom you’re often compared? Can you tell me a little about your writing space(s)? (Room, coffee shop, desk, etc.) What’s your most effective way to muster up some muse? Did the place(s) you grew up in influence the people and places you write about? Are there any recurring themes in your writing, and if so, do they surprise you at all? Your Characters: Would you please tell me about your current favorite character? (Current WIP, past WIP, never used, etc.) Which of your characters do you think you’d be friends with in real life? Which of your characters would you dislike the most if you met them? Tell me about the process of coming up with of one, all, or any of your characters. Do you notice any recurring themes/traits among your characters? How do you picture them? (As real people you imagined, as models/actors who exist in real life, as imaginary artwork, as artwork you made or commissioned, anime style, etc.) Your Writing: What’s your reason for writing? Is there a specific comment or type of comment you find particularly motivating coming from your readers? How do you want to be thought of by those who read your work? (For example: as a literary genius, or as a writer who “gets” the human condition; as a talented worldbuilder, as a role model, etc.) What do you feel is your greatest strength as a writer? What have you been frequently told your greatest writing strength is by others? How do you feel about your own writing? (Answer in whatever way you interpret this question.) If you were the last person on earth and knew your writing would never be read by another human, would you still write? When you write, are you influenced by what others might enjoy reading, or do you write purely what you enjoy? If it’s a mix of the two, which holds the most influence?

[twosides--samecoin]

How do you get your screen caps ??? they’re literally so amazing and perfect and I love them so much 😭

Hey gamer, thanks for the ask~

Prob a good place to mention that I take free screenshot commissions in Fallout 4! Free! Send me a poseprompt/NPC and in my downtime between fic chapters I'll see what I can do! You can browse my photos on my archive with this tag -> Fallout Screenshots. I can pose pretty much any NPC/animal. Long rambly post so there's more below the cut.

I was a film photographer before I ever was artful about game screenshots. I came up in the Ansel Adams school of thought. His whole thing was he'd hike up to a mountain with a large format camera on a heavy tripod. He'd see the resulting image in his "mind's eye" and imagine each and every problem possible he'd have to contend with in the creative process to get there. He was the most low-key, soft-spoken batshit crazy control freak artist who made each photo look easy. You'd never guess at the amount of time and work and travel it took him to take one photo. Even his simplest works make people feel ant-small compared to the arresting grandness of the American landscape's most boring viscera. I have several books of his and four of the official/authorized prints, and I bring AA up because I'm kinda insane in the same ways when it comes to screenshots. In my books, it should never be just an image, it should be the most elevated version of the image you can make given your current skill and tools available at that present moment. My Yeehawgust 2024 entry, Rocky Mountain High, is an example of that. A five image composite stitched in post processing with set and lighting design including hand-placed trees and custom terraforming of a map in Creation Kit.

The easy answer is Photo Mode. I have a 400ish-entry mod list that is built around taking photos, but Photo Mode is really the key because it allows you to rotate the camera and pause game time with a user interface instead of relying on console. I approach screenshots the same as my film cameras.

My simplest game -> upload pipeline are my candid portraits. I will notice the way light creates shadow on an object or a character will be doing something interesting and then I bring up Photo Mode to capture it. I then load the image in Clip Studio and adjust using correction layers; normally levels/saturation/brightness and contrast set to lowish opacity, a sharpness action then a crop and that's it.

My more complex game -> upload pipelines can be as "easy" as posing characters (mine often begin with premade anims/poses but the end result is almost always a custom-tweaked pose; I'm considering releasing a pose mod of my custom work) or as complex as set and lighting design. Sometimes that's as easy as using the settlement builder. Sometimes that's as complex as fixing up a model in Blender/Nifskope, or opening up Creation Kit and making custom tweaks to the world map because the way I need it to look doesn't exist in mods/vanilla. Depending on what I am trying to accomplish, it can take me several days to create a staged scene. Work on Chapter 15 screenshots started two months ago because I knew I would need a lot of time to test and iterate.

Uhhh what else? Most photos take between 10-30 test photos before I get it right. I also use 4k-8k textures; Jack, Livvie and RJ all have unique clothes and bodyslide presets. Shit gets weird when I forget and put RJ in clothes meant for Mr. Bowling Ball Deltoids himself, Jack. I manipulate game time and weather with console. I dislike most ENB and in my arrogance I believe there's almost nothing ENB can do for a still image that I can't achieve in post-processing.

I could go on for hours about taking photos so I will stop here! Thanks for the ask!

[bluestar22x]

Falling

The Outcast - Falling

Summary: There is beauty in the heart of winter, especially when shared with someone special

Pairing: Pero Tovar x F!Reader

Rating: 18+

Word Count: 3,300 (ish)

Warnings: Longing, hard on and masturbation implied (not explicit), violence towards a rabbit (sorry buddy, they've got to eat)

Author’s Note: Not going to lie, I had a hard time getting this one out into words, but I did it. Also not going to lie, I listened to "Can you feel the love tonight" by Elton John to set the mood while writing this.

xxx

Of the many things that had eluded Pero in his time, peace was one of the most evasive. It had once been a friend when he was a child, innocent of the harsh realities outside his family's homestead, but it slowly wandered away from him as he was exposed to the world beyond, and it had finally fled him the year he'd lost his entire family.

It only worsened when he became a mercenary out of pure necessity, no longer haunted only by events he could not have prevented.

At times, even in war, the world could be serene, but not for Pero, whose thoughts darkened whenever they were left to roam with nothing else to turn to.

He had learned to hate complete silence. As much as he sometimes groaned over William's waffling, in the end it had helped ease his mind, fill it with anything but what the monster at the back of his head wished for him to focus on. Being around his friend had made life a little more tolerable.

It was different with you. You hardly spoke most days, unless you deemed it necessary. You seemed to thrive on it, the silence, and at first Pero envied you, until he stumbled into peace once more.

Sometime in the dead of winter he found it again, discovering it had not been as far out of his grasp as he'd once thought. It had just taken some coaxing, luring out by the nature of the way you lived and the nature that surrounded you.

In many ways living with you reminded him of his childhood. After over two decades he found himself once more secluded, left to focus on his basic needs and the needs of the animals he found himself caring for.

Many of his fellow mercenaries would have found it boring compared to the thrill of battle, one he'd had a love/hate relationship with, but he'd surprisingly settled well back into the lifestyle once he'd given it a chance.

In truth, this life could never be dull. Even with your quiet, even with your consistent schedule, the animals would not let it be so. On any given day a goat may escape its paddock or a horse might find itself tangled up in something (the latest had been Thor's nasty run in with some fallen branches from a hawthorn tree after he'd jumped the boundary of his pasture again).

Even when they weren't busy escaping, the animals sometimes got into trouble other ways or caused mischief.

You had one particular event you liked to remind him of most, to taut him with, on those days you were feeling playful. He'd been assisting you with the feeding of your billy goats one morning when the youngest, the almost pure white one who was appropriately named Trouble, came up behind him and gave him a good, literal nip on the butt for no apparent reason other than being a goat. Even with the padding of his pants between his skin and the goat's teeth it had still left Pero sore for days, not that he had admitted it to you. No, you had enough fuel from seeing his face when it had occurred. Had been thrown into a fit of laughter over it many times since, to his dismay.

Despite his grievances with that particular goat, he did find plenty of pleasant times amongst them, even smiling on occasion at their daily antics when you weren't looking, of course.

While he kept that side of himself hidden from you, and you kept pieces of yourself from him, you still both learned much about each other by just being in close proximity.

You'd learned enough to be able to communicate with each other without spoken word, something that became invaluable during your hunts together.

It was especially useful on the days when voices easily echoed through the forest.

On one such day, when the air was crisp and the sun bright, you walked your horses in single file through the thick forest a quarter mile from your cottage, the snow almost up to your boots before the horses plowed through. Pero was in saddle on Thor and you were bareback on Clover as you often were. With your knowledge of the area Pero always let you lead, not that he really had any power to choose. You were strong willed and used to getting your way. His presence had not done anything to change that. He wouldn't have wanted it to anyway; his respect for you was too great.

About an hour into the hunt you abruptly halted Clover and looked over your shoulder at him, head angled downward. He followed the gesture and glanced at the ground by her mare's front feet. After peering at the spot for a few seconds he noticed what she had. Rabbit footprints. A trail of them that happened to follow the same path you both were on, though the much smaller creature had been able to hop along without sinking into the snow.

He gave you a nod to assure you he'd seen the same thing and pulled the bow he was carrying off his back as well as an arrow from a quiver that he had strapped over his shoulder. It was yours, but you allowed him borrow it whenever he joined you on hunts. You had a matching one, except yours was more lightweight. Yours was spread out on your lap, your arrows on your hip inside a smaller quiver.

You encouraged Clover to very slowly push through the snow as you watched for the rabbit to appear ahead and Pero did the same with Thor. When your eyes set on a fallen log in the path, the white rabbit appeared from behind it.

Pero saw you tense up and scanned ahead, eyes locking on the rabbit in a matter of a second or two. He had time to lift his bow into position and nock an arrow before you could, only by a moment, but it was long enough for him to fire on the creature.

The arrow landed at the animal's hind feet and it bolted, startled by the near miss. Pero cursed loudly over his lousy shot, but you kept your cool, still eying the rabbit and moving with it as it put distance between you both.

It felt entirely too long to Pero, but it was just enough before you released your arrow and sent it flying right into the rabbit's chest, instantly rendering it lifeless, its body flopping over on a patch of bare stone.

You glanced back at him with a smug expression on your face, eyebrows hiked up.

He scowled at you. "Lucky shot."

"It's called skill, Pero," you boasted, a broad smile plastered on your face.

Sometimes you reminded him of William. William had been almost supernaturally good at archery, and you weren't too far behind. Neither of you were humble about it.

He wouldn't admit it, but he was thoroughly impressed by you, even though being far outdone by yet another person wounded his ego. I ought to stick to swords, he thought bitterly.

"You're just mad a woman is better at something than you are," you added as you dismounted to collect the dead animal.

You weren't entirely wrong. It did sting more, but it wasn't the only reason. Pero knew he was generally a sore loser. As far as he was concerned though, it was useful. He was certain he'd survived many a battle out of his pure unwillingness to be showed up by opposing soldiers and mercenaries.

You squatted to snatch the limp rabbit up by its hind legs and approached him, nodding to the saddlebag attached to his saddle by a couple tie down straps.

He unbuckled the flap that closed the bag and opened it up so you could stuff the rabbit's body inside it.

"You wouldn't need to use mine if you had yours," Pero said pointedly, still not understanding why you hardly used your saddle. You'd once told him it was for warmth, to share body heat with your mare, but the weather that day could hardly be called bitter.

"I never do," you told him. "I could easily swing the body over Clover's neck with a rope. But then I'd risk losing the meat while racing you back."

He had no time to react to your words before you swung back up onto Clover's back and kicked her sides, sending her into a reckless canter through the forest, along the same trail the horses had just stomped out.

Thor pranced in place, yearning to run as well, and Pero muttered to himself about how pointless it was to do so before letting his reins loose anyway, giving the stallion permission to bolt down the path after you both.

He'd never done this before. Let his horse run for the sake of it, and as wayward branches smacked him in the chest and face he was quickly reminded why. Moving at such speeds could be dangerous and it was an unnecessary waste of energy for any horse about to see battle or any that were recovering from one.

Neither was the case for Thor that day, and when the trees gave way to field Pero suddenly forgot all his other concerns.

He could see you several lengths ahead, flying head long into the soft morning breeze on Clover's wide back, the horse kicking up powder as she threw herself into a gallop, albeit a slow one due to the snow not being quite trampled down enough to prevent her from sinking into it.

He couldn't see much of you besides your winter coat as he trailed behind you, but for a moment you had your head thrown back, nose pointed to the sky, and he could sense the joy, imagine the wide grin on your face. It made his lips curl up and his heart skip in a way he could not explain if someone had asked him to.

He urged Thor into a pace that would allow him to keep up, and felt the same kind of thrill you were likely experiencing bubbling up in his chest. The rush of adrenaline one gets when you take a risk, not for survival, but for the hell of it. He'd experienced it plenty enough during his youth to remember what it felt like. It was a more than welcome feeling after so long.

He'd almost caught up with you when the cottage came into view and you started to slow Clover down, though the horse was hardly breathless. Pero pulled Thor up beside you, face neutral, once more hiding the side of him he'd deemed soft from you.

"Rabbit stew?" you inquired, a smile still adorning your face. "My grandmother created a recipe in her twenties that's to die for."

He grunted. "If you intend to fatten me up so I cannot leave come spring, your family's secrets are indeed the best route to success."

You chortled at his comment, and he almost laughed too. Almost.

"Amma's famous rabbit stew it is."

x

Pero ate so much rabbit stew for both his meals that day that he fell asleep by the fire after the last, waking only after the night was in full force. There was a blanket draped over him that hadn't been there before and he smiled slightly at the thought of you taking the time to shield his body from the chill that often found its way into your home after dark. You were always looking after him like that, even though you didn't need to, even though he was very capable of taking care of himself.

He liked that about you most, your selflessness. The kind that led you to care for a stranger, though you were hardly strangers by then, were you? At least not anymore.

Pero stood with a groan, his stiff, aching back and knees ever reminding him of his last two decades spent in battle and on horseback.

He glanced around the cottage for you, but you weren't there, and he wondered if it was early enough that you were still out feeding the animals. He donned his coat and made his way outside, surprised by the calm, stillness of the night. Usually night meant bitter wind.

The weather was not all he was surprised by.

Instead of being behind or in the barn, you were out in the field in front of the cottage, your upper body lying flat on Clover's bare back, though your butt and legs were still properly positioned for riding. Pero trudged your way, wondering what in God's name you were doing on your horse so late at night, until he got close enough to see that you were gazing up at the clear sky above you, studying the thousands of shining white specks, stars, that were spread across its midnight blue.

The peace in your expression almost made him turn back, not wanting to spoil your alone time, but something had him rooted to the ground he was standing upon a few yards from you, watching, taking in the view. Not of the sky, but of you. Your silhouette blended with Clover's in the dark, as if you'd morphed into a very flexible centaur, and he realized then that you did not ride bareback just for shared warmth, but also because of the oneness you felt with her when the saddle wasn't present. Clover was always more responsive to you when you left the saddle in the barn. She could read you better, as you could her.

His conclusion had Pero scrambling to recall the last time he'd felt at one with anything or anyone, but his mind blanked out. Though he'd been close to other people emotionally, had experienced physical intimacy of every kind, spiritual closeness had evaded him as well as he'd avoided devotion to any religion.

He had never yearned for that kind of connection until that night, as he observed yours with Clover and the world around you. He could have watched you all night, lived vicariously through you.

You felt him near you before he could.

"Beautiful night," you declared, only just loud enough for him to hear. You did not turn your head to look at him, you just kept on talking, your eyes still focused on the heavens above. "It's not often it's clear enough to stargaze in the winter. I could not resist."

He cleared his throat. "No need to resist because of my presence. I will leave you to it and return to the cottage, if I am to presume the animals are already fed?"

You nodded confirmation that they were and sat upright, using nothing but your core strength to do it, and he had to adjust himself in his pants before you looked his way, aroused by your motion. If anyone asked, he could not deny his attraction to you, but he knew he could not act on it. You had shown no sign of feeling the same towards him, and he was your guest, so he dealt with his discomfort however he could when you weren't near enough to overhear him.

"I'd rather you join me for a ride," you said as your eyes fell upon him.

He arched his brows. "At this time of night?"

"I want to see if the dancing lights are out," you explained.

"Dancing lights?" Pero was lost. He had no idea what you were talking about.

"It's worth the trip to the top of the mountain," you promised. "Trust me."

Who was he to resist your plea?

He agreed to the ride and headed for the pasture, leading Thor out by his mane.

You frowned as you rode Clover over to the fence line. "Aren't you going to get your saddle, bridle?"

Pero stood at Thor's shoulder and readied himself to climb on, using a large rock to give him a little extra height. As tall as he was, he hadn't tried this in a long time and mounting from the ground with stirrups was already difficult enough for him.

“Not tonight,” he replied shortly, swinging up on his steed. It wasn't easy, even with the assist from the stone. He almost slipped back off by Thor's shoulder, but managed to cling on and straighten himself out, though his grunts of effort probably could have been heard for a mile. At least you seemed amused by his lack of grace, choking on the laugh bubbling up in your chest. As embarrassed as he was, Pero liked the sound of your laughter.

You forced a cough, trying to compose yourself, then silently guided him away from the farm, starting up the steepest side of the mountain, without any supplies.

He followed you hesitantly, praying a sudden storm would not form.

x

You rode towards the top of the mountain with a relaxed confidence, only occasionally twisting around to make sure Pero was still close behind.

He hung back a few yards, attempting to appear at ease, but you could tell your impromptu trip had spiked some anxiety within him. You wondered how much was because of who he was and how much was from his near death experience.

You felt an unexplainable twinge as you thought back to the fateful day that you'd found him. If you had never known him, if you'd been too late or hadn't stumbled upon him, you wouldn't know who you were missing, but you did know him, and there was pain in knowing how close you'd been to not sharing your life with him.

It was dangerous to your heart, thinking in such a manner, but even if all you could ever be was friends, even if he left in the spring and you never saw him again, you knew you wouldn't trade this winter with him for anything. Wouldn't trade the moment that came next as you crested your mountain and the rest of the chain it belonged to materialized into view, all eight of its companions snow capped and massive in their own right, most even taller than the one you'd claimed as yours.

But it wasn't the mountain range's beauty that you focused on that night - it was the glowing, dancing, green wavy lights in the sky that kissed a few of the other peaks.

You'd witnessed them a few times each winter since you'd moved into the cottage, but the lights never failed to cause you to catch your breath, to marvel at the beauty of it. You did not know why they only sometimes formed at night during the winter, why they formed at all, but you didn't need to know to enjoy the view.

"Do you have these lights in the south?" you asked Pero as Thor came to a stop alongside Clover.

"We do not," he answered, studying the sky before him, eyes narrowed, as if he were trying to figure out the source of the mysterious lights. "But I have heard of these lights before, from other mercenaries."

"Aren't they magical?" you questioned dreamily, staring ahead.

You heard him huff. "Magic does not exist. Just because we do not understand it doesn't make it supernatural."

"That's not the kind of magic I'm talking about," you told him, glancing in his direction. "I meant the kind of magic that we know has an explanation, even if we have not figured it out yet, but is still wondrous to us anyway. Like how a babe grows in their mother's womb, or how sometimes the ground shakes for no apparent reason. Episteme will not change the feeling I have every time I am blessed with witnessing these lights."

Pero nodded in understanding. "They are indeed, wondrous."

You glanced over to him again, finding his eyes on you instead of the lights, and your heart pounded in your chest as he smiled at you briefly. A real smile that filled your belly with warmth.

You wondered then if he felt the same for you as you did him, or if you were reading into things too much. If you were simply just a friend to him, a sister, maybe, or something more. You were too afraid to ask. Too convinced it didn't matter.

After all, come spring he would part from you, and you'd be alone once more.

You couldn't see the benefit in exposing yourself to that kind of heartbreak.

You wouldn't admit to yourself you'd already fallen.

xxx

Tagged: @elegantduckturtle @harriedandharassed

xxx

Series Masterlist

Main Masterlist

xxx

[lemonsrosesandlavender]

Writer Interview Tag

Thanks for the tags, @darkurgetrash and @kimberbohwrites <3 I really enjoyed reading yours! I tag… hmmm, who hasn’t done it yet? @dutifullylazybread @commander-krios and @redroomroaving ? (And consider this a free tag if you want it!)

When did you start writing?

I honestly couldn’t say when my very first act of creative writing was, I feel like I’ve been writing on and off my whole life (barring like 5 years from 16-21). When I was 8 or 9 is the first I really remember though. I kept a diary religiously at that time (yes, it’s hilarious), and also attempted several stories that went nowhere, including a glorious portal fantasy about two children who are isekai’d into a kingdom of cats and have to face off against an evil cat stealing wizard. As you can tell, I love cats, lmao. And I have always loved portal fantasies and isekai. A through-line all the way to Planar Tears!

Are there different themes or genres you enjoy reading than what you write?

Oooh. Well, there are very few genres I *wouldn’t* read, and I’ve only written so much, so I suppose most genres currently sit in this pile for me? I can’t really see myself writing original sci-fi, despite loving it as a genre, because I think it really lives or dies on having an excellent concept more than a lot of other forms of fiction. Short of being struck with a lightning bolt of inspiration, I think I’d lack purpose. But I love, love, love science fiction. Isaac Asimov, Philip K Dick, N.K. Jemisin, Octavia Butler, John Wyndham, Marge Piercy, Ted Chiang… all of these SF authors’ stories have a place in my heart.

Is there a writer you want to emulate or get compared to often?

No-one has yet compared me to anyone. I often realise that I’m going a little too Austen in my work, and gently push myself to modernise - but I guess that speaks to the fact that whilst I admire her, I don’t want to exactly emulate her? I love the way she gently teases her characters, the way she makes clear the contrast between what they believe and what’s actually true without being cruel. But I don’t want to write a pastiche.

On the other end of the spectrum, I recently re-read My Year of Rest and Relaxation and was reminded of how much I love Otessa Moshfegh’s cold, somewhat brutal cataloguing of the world around her character; her sparse but vivid imagery (casting aside a pair of shoes like “dead crows”) and her unlikeable but extremely readable MC. I should read more of her work!

Basically, I love to read and have a wide spectrum of influences, but I’m not aiming to emulate any single one of them. I would say my writing swings between archaic and more efficient depending on whether I’ve read classic or modern literature most recently, because I love both.

Can you tell me a bit about your writing space?

I have many. On my phone anywhere - especially the commute - and at home on a laptop, either sat at our dining table (we live in a rental flat in an expensive city, a proper desk would be a luxury), or on the sofa with my girlfriend and flatmate sometimes contributing "suggestions" lol. If I'm in a writing phase, which I have been for a year - every space is a writing space.

What's your most effective way to muster up a muse?

Hmmm. I am rarely in a completely creatively fallow period - unless I'm just straight up obsessed with a game/TV show/the gym, in which case I'm busy having a good time in other ways - but I'm not always in the writing zone. I like textile crafts and sewing, and art hobbies generally. I guess that is to say, if the writing muse is not present, I rarely miss it; I'm probably thinking about something else.

(Barring the times when my mental health is fucked, but even then, I'm probably throwing myself really hard into a hobby as a distraction. I'm an all or nothing person). When I'm struggling with writer's block on say, a chapter of a long fic, it's usually because it's not quite headed in the right direction, and I need to backtrack, take stock of where my characters are emotionally, and try again in a different direction. Honestly... I know it's advised against by some, but sometimes I just have to sit down and make myself write just to figure out what's wrong. Just do it, and rip it up later if you have to. (**put it in a separate doc in case you can use it elsewhere. you probably wrote it for a reason. DO NOT TILT OFF THE FACE OF THE EARTH AND DELETE YOUR SHIT, NO MATTER HOW FRUSTRATING).

Are there any recurring themes in your writing? Do they surprise you?

Number one is “coming to terms with making mistakes in your vocation, and recognising that you are more than your talent at it.” It’s the reason that draws me to Rolan in the first place, because it mirrors my own life experiences very closely. I was somewhat picked on and harassed in school (shit that many of us have experienced) and built my whole personality around being smart and having my life planned out as a shield against it. I was going to do [thing], I was really good at it, and it was all clear. Not to mention I loved this subject. So when I got into a prestigious university my life was sorted, right? Except... all of the hideous self-esteem issues and perfectionism I'd been papering over came crashing down all at once, and I was in an incredibly unforgiving environment, in a very male-dominated subject where other (male) students would literally be like huh, isn't it weird more women don't study this subject? Why do YOU think that is? I felt like I was worthless, stupid and useless, and that I stuck out like a sore thumb - and I was carrying the weight of every woman who wanted to do my subject and was afraid they weren't good enough. My life plans crumbled before my eyes, and I was severely depressed, alongside other health issues - which my uni did not give two fucks about, at all.

Which is to say, I draw many parallels between my own arc and Rolan's - being an outsider, the precarity of having your own talent validated only to have your entire future rest on it, and being vulnerable to really shitty messaging about how hard I should be working and how it was obviously my fault if I wasn't succeeding already, when they were one of the best universities around. And then I realised I was writing similar experiences with Catrin and SW Tav - discovering, and appreciating, that you're more than this one crutch you cling to, this singular skill that you desperately need to hold you above the maelstrom of life. And I promise that, like Rolan, this has a happy ending - I personally took some years out after battling through undergrad, faced my demons, and returned to the subject that I loved as a far more well-rounded person, better equipped to deal with failure. I'm not perfect, and I never will be. I'm neurotic and perfectionistic and all the rest. And that's probably why I keep writing, and exploring this theme - to remind myself that I want to avoid that trap, and to deal with the ways I feel when I'm in it. I was gonna write about kink here too, but I think this is enough, lol.

What is your reason for writing?

Joy. I love exercising my creative drive. And I love re-reading what I've written!

Obsession. These fuckers, these plot points, occupy every spare inch of brain and will not stop until I vent them.

Learning. Honing my skills is a frustration and a pleasure.

Connection. I'm so, so grateful to have people who read and care about my work. It means the world.

Horny. Um. Yeah. I have no further explanation for this one lmao. Except. Fantasies are amazing, but then writing them down makes them even better because now you're really thinking about the specifics and those specifics come to mind more easily next time you're [REDACTED. CABBAGE STOP. ENOUGH!!!]

Is there any specific comment or type of comment you find particularly motivating?

I can’t pick just one! A balanced diet of comments is the best ;)

I joke but - I love them all. Shouting about the plot? You're invested, and I'm grateful. "Additional kudos" twenty chapters in? You've stuck with me this far, and I'm grateful. I guess if I had to pick a few:

1. Strong emotional responses. Kicking my feet/biting my keyboard/stressed/blushing/screaming - whatever fits the mood of the scene. I’m so happy my writing evoked strong feelings. That’s a good chunk of the point, right?

2. Writing analysis. Picking out individual lines or highlighting certain aspects - characterisation, dramatic tension, etc. The day someone said that I "had a knack for showing character in a single action" and then provided examples, I nearly exploded. Augh. I particularly love comments on my OCs because they're especially precious to me. My own brain children, and you LIKE them? heaven for reader. heaven for reader for 1000 years.

3. “I should be sleeping but instead I read this” AND I AM KISSING YOU. That’s all.

4. Just straight up compliments. "I love this" thank you I'm crying. ahhhhhhh. Cute lil kudos graphics (you know who you are). I'm over the moon you enjoy my work. <3

How do you want to be thought about by your readers?

Well, I know for certain that a large swathe of my readers perceive me as “the one who writes good subby Rolan porn” and frankly? I love that reputation. If nobody appreciated the SFW elements of my work, I might feel differently, because thoughtful storytelling is also really important to me - but I feel seen in that regard too, so I can delight in knowing my writing has a distinctive flavour. Kinky chilli ice cream, spicy and sweet.

I would also love to hope my readers think of me fondly when they get the next long fic email, and are excited to continue the story. Oh, and I hope my readers enjoy chatting in my comment section, because I do. All I can aim for is to be the friendly author who "rites gud". Fingers crossed I meet that bar :)

What do you feel is your greatest strength as a writer?

You know what? I might not have said this once upon a time, but I actually think I’m pretty decent at plotting. I think I wind various threads together quite well, and with purpose.

I think I’m pretty good at observing character too. I hope. I’ve written so much Rolan that he’s really taken on a life of his own, but I do often rewatch his cutscenes (I know, such a chore 😉) and think I have a good sense for him. I also think that although Catrin started out difficult to write, I developed a very distinct character for her too, which I’m glad about.

When you write, are you influenced by what others might enjoy reading, or do you write purely for yourself, or a mix of both?

90% of what I’m writing is for me. I want it to be the best it can be, for me; I want it to cover the themes I care about. I want to tell the story in my head. Before BG3, I wrote for a teeny tiny fandom, inaugurating its fandom tag, and that inoculated me a little against writing for stats because well, thirty kudos felt like an INCREDIBLE achievement in that fandom.

Also, I want to write my kinky filth and not dilute it. That means actively CHOOSING not to worry about whether people are put off, because they absolutely, certainly will be in cases.

However, I do also care about my readers; I love comments and I want to give them the best story I can. I really enjoy my NSFW prompts; since my tumblr connections know the baseline of what I’m into, they can throw out AMAZING ideas that I love writing and am deeply grateful for. I’ve also definitely pushed harder on fics and oneshots because I knew a particular commenter or mutual was super excited for them ❤️ (shout out to my piss kink cheerleader lol, and everyone who has kindly - or ferally - expressed interest in my longfics).

How do you feel about your own writing?

Mostly very good! I do struggle with writer’s block sometimes, but my particular combination of perfectionism and obstinacy means I don’t tend to publish my work until I’m happy with it. I can see imperfections in my work, especially my past work, but I do genuinely enjoy the process of learning even if it frustrates me sometimes. I really enjoy re-reading what I’ve written later, because by the time it gets out there into the world, I’ve always beaten it into something I’m proud of.

I can't deny that I do, occasionally, get bitten by the little green monster though. Seeing someone else's Rolan writing get called "the best" or whatever has me nursing a tiny stab of pain. And I know it's valid - I'm not *the* best writer of all time, I'm just writing my reasonably-good stories out here, but I can't deny that small oof. (I'm tipsy so you're getting rather honest Cabbage tonight). I'm also very aware that I get many wonderful comments and treasure them, so I just accept my limitations a bit and try not to think too much about other peoples' writing that is along similar lines to my own. You're all writing beautiful stuff and I support you, but I will go NUTS if I spend my life reading closely-related fic. (If I have read your fic, know I fought my inner demons to do it, lol). Idk. I write what I want to write, as well as I can, and I'm grateful that people want to read it. Seriously. You have no idea how much every bookmark and subscription and lovely comment mean to me <3 And all I can do is my best to master this lovely art form and carve out from the marble an approximation of what I see in my head.

[fernandezology]

mon cherié -benjamin pavard

summary: both you and benjamin are insufferably stubborn,which makes this “hot and cold” situation unbearable. if destiny wants to see you together,who is gonna be the first one to stop acting like you hate each other?

author’s note: thank you for all your support and requests so far! this is the longest piece i wrote so far and i really put my heart and energy into this one. let me know what do you think <3

word count: 2,5 k

warnings: angst,betrayal and mentions of cheating

What is it about us that we always want something we can’t have? Or someone. I had never craved anyone’s attention like this before. Not until I met him.

He was always there,yet so far out of my reach. Almost like a toy you will reach for at top shelves in stores. Unreachable for me. I never knew where I stood with him. One thing was sure- he was the one. He had to be. If not him,then who? I was unconditionally and irrevocably in love with him. No amount of love movies could ever prepare me for that fatal attraction. Nothing compares to experiencing that moment. Destiny wanted us together,but did you?

From that moment on, he was the last thing I would have on my mind before going to sleep. It even got to a point where I couldn’t even escape him while I was sleeping. And when I wasn’t seeing him in my dreams,I would daydream about him. Not that I would ever admit that to him. I was too proud to do it. Eventually,that would cost us time we could already spend together.

As the time went by, I was convinced that falling for someone this hard is a form of self- destruction.It just had to be. Raw feelings and this catastrophic timing made the most painful combination. How is it even possible to love someone that much without really knowing them? I just saw right through you. For what you really are, and I still love every single part of you. Even flaws. That’s what made you so irresistible. Some said that’s because I had a savior complex and you needed to be “saved”.

The truth is- I needed you. Needed to be saved by your love. If anything,I loved your flaws more than anything. You wouldn’t be who you are without them. You desperately wanted to give off the impression of someone mysterious to everyone else and always leave them wondering. Who are you? Are you in touch with all of your darkest fantasies? Have you created a life for yourself where you can experience them? What are you really like? Do you have someone? What rumors about you are true? For a good period of time,those rumors left me wondering too.

I scrolled through her post and it wasn’t because I was envious. The only thing I want for you is to be happy,even if it doesn’t include me. At least that’s what I was trying to convince myself. It worked for awhile. It got draining eventually and I was trying my best to hide it. I felt so pathetic for crying over someone who probably doesn’t even think about me. Why would you? I clearly did my best to push you away from me. We were never friends,but certainly not this either. How did it even come to this? From sitting together in classes and making jokes to not being able to stand each other.

I had to contradict everything you said. For some reason,even though you were shy,you always had something to say about everything. Truthfully,sometimes everyone found it frustrating. What did you wanna prove? It seemed like you wanted to be a teachers pet and always be against everyone else because you are above us. Straight A’s,tall,good-looking,popular among girls.. Even your football career seemed to be going in the right direction. What else is there to prove really?

Once again,I saw right through your facade. You wanted approval from others,which is something you always seek. Maybe not actively,but you love to feel accepted. You loved to make people laugh,but honestly, nothing about this situation was funny at all. Maybe destiny doesn’t wanna see us together after all.

Where did it all take a wrong turn for us? If „we“ ever were a thing after all. Everyone noticed the way we looked at each other. Self-proclaimed enemies don't look at each other with lust in their eyes. If I had to point out one specific event, it would be the moment where I comforted you about one of the rumors that was going around.

Not because I wanted to humiliate you or find out the truth so everyone can gossip about it and talk behind your back, just like they always do. Some nice „friends“ you have. It was because I wanted to let you know I'm not that naive to believe everything I hear or read.

And most importantly- to let you know I'm here for you. Someone you can rely on, shoulder to cry. I see you and your good heart. Your good intentions. The rumor has it that you were sending inappropriate texts to some girls while you were with that girl. There was no way anyone would want to hurt her, especially not you. She looks beautiful and kind, she probably gives you butterflies. I was having sleepless nights over thinking about how to bring that up, but let's face it-that's not something you just casually bring up in random conversation. Who in their right mind would just ask „Hey, did you send these inappropriate messages to girls while you had a girlfriend? „

Nobody, except for me. I was waiting for an opportunity to ask you about this for days, weeks even. Nothing seemed like the right time to ask you about it and I wanted it to be as natural as possible. Somehow, after all that overthinking, I brought it up in the most idiotic way possible.

I noticed you were walking home alone after school and stopped you. After so many years, I still don't know what got into me. All I know is that I suddenly felt like my heart was in my throat. Even though I was practicing what to say in the mirror so many times, I went completely off the script.

Not the first time we have been off the script, is it?

„Hey, can I just show you something if you have a second?”

„Of course, what is it?”

„Uhm, I don't know are you aware, but they are talking about how you were sending some questionable messages to a lot of girls.”

„Wait, what?”

„So you don't know? There are screenshots going around…”

„I have to go or I will be late for a game, but if you can, please send me those screenshots.”

„Good luck and I will.”

„Thank you. „

This definetly felt wrong. It felt like I was interrogating you for a „crime“ that has no correlation to me whatsoever. It wasn't my place to ask you that, but since I already did, I had to proceed with it and send you screenshots.

Nothing for hours.

Followed by „seen at 3:27 am“.

That's what happens when you go off the script,but that's life. We can't retake this scene and try again.

Now it's up to you to decide what comes next. At the very least, you could've thanked me for letting you know, but no. Radio silence at your end.

After that conversation, I wouldn't even consider us „enemies“. I would consider ourselves as strangers because, at the end of the day, that is what we are. Who was I fooling? I will never know what you are thinking, who you are when you are alone at night with your thoughts. My friends noticed that you were looking at me every time I looked away from you. They didn’t know about our conversation, but even then, they knew you looked like you were so desperate to say something. Still no progress and let's face it- there will never be one.

It's not like I didn't try to occupy myself with other things, other people. All of my attempts worked out only for a short amount of time. Not suprising considering they never left significant mark on my life. Looking back on it, I should've risk it, confess it to you and risk a rejection. It couldn't be that bad if it happened sooner, right? They say time heals open wounds of a broken heart, but what would be a medicine for however you wanna describe this? All my friends are tired of hearing of how much I miss you and I got sick of thinking about you all the time. It almost felt pathetic.

I needed something, well someone to get you off my mind. Funnily enough, my boyfriend, well ex-boyfriend now, looked very similiar to you. It's safe to say I have a type. Brown eyes and curly brown hair. Very predictable of me. If I only predicted that so called replacements don't work out. If anything, that cheap version of you only made my life even more miserable with constant lying and gaslighting.

To make the whole story more embarassing, he broke up with me right before Christmas and ruined my favorite time of the year. Looking back on it, it was a blessing in disguise. There is just one thing I will forever regret if you put aside the fact that I endured his gaslighting for months. He was my first kiss and just looking back on it makes me physically ill. It's such a repulsive memory. Thanks God I complemently blocked that out of my memory.

On the other hand, I don't think he will block you out of his memory because he was also one of those that were envious of you, your talent, popularity and attractivness. Imagine if he knew he was your supossed replacement… Failed to even be the mediocre version of himself. He is free to add me on the list of girls who he didn't satisfy in any way. Not to wish bad upon anyone, but he doesn’t deserve to feel happiness after what he has done. Not to mention he most likely cheated too because I saw him with other girl on new year's party. Dissapointing but normal procedure by his standards.

Wanna hear something that is not a normal procedure in our story? Him sitting next to me in bus on our week long school trip. In the middle of the night as well. Everyone were asleep except few of us. I didn’t even notice him at first because I was got lost in my thoughts while looking through window. Night was so peaceful and you could see stars since sky was so clear, not a single cloud in the sight. He tapped my shoulder to get my attention and I just assumed it's one of my friends that was sitting behind me.

„Do you mind if I sit here? „

„No, go ahead. „

„It's a bit crowded back there so I hope you don't mind that I came. „

„It's okay, don't worry. „

„Why are you awake? „

„I could ask you the same thing. „

„I asked you first. „

„And you came to my seat so your rules don't apply here, monsieur . „

„Monsieur? I'm not that old,mademoiselle”

„Sorry, your dark cicrles are telling me a different story. „

„Hey, no need for that. „

„I'm just kidding, but seriously, why are you awake?“

„Because I can't fall asleep. „

„Really? „

„Really. That's why I'm here. „

„Huh? Am I supossed to tuckle you in and tell you a goodnight story? „

„I mean, if you want to… „

„Just go to sleep. „

„That's very rude of you, mon cherié. „

„What did you say? „

„Hm? Nothing, you are hearing stuff. „

„Goodnight then. „

„Goodnight. „

Well, that was suprising. His presence and the smell of his perfume were so comforting. It was almost like I needed him to fall asleep peacefully. To be more exact, it seemed like he needed me too.

Why are we each others safe place when all we do is bring chaos into each others lives?

Overthinking hit me again while he was leaning more and more towards me. This probbably doesn’t mean anything, but I would've lied if I said this isn't gonna disturb me. I was finally moving on and then this had to happen? How convinient.

„Sometimes I was conviced you are doing this on puprose. What else could it be? I just wanted you to make up your mind and put both of us out of this misery. I was hoping I will never ever come across you after high school. „

„I'm sorry, but that will never work out for you. Your shoulder probabbly went numb because I was all over you, I'm sorry. „

„Not just that, you were also drooling in your sleep. „

„That's embarassing. I hope nobody saw it. „

„Not only did they see you, they took pictures too. „

„Put that in a frame. But jokes aside, why did it took us so long? „

„Maybe because both of us are so insufferably stubborn? „

„That's what makes it more fun. „

„Suffering back then wasn't that fun, to be honest. „

„If this is suffering, then I wanna suffer forever with you. „

„Wow, so romantic of you. „

„Why are you rolling your eyes? I'm being serious. „

„It's just a natural reaction when I see you. „

„Are you thinking what I'm thinking or? „

„Oh stop winking at me and be serious for once. „

„Sorry, what were you saying? „

„I was about to say that I will never forgive you that you will never be my first kiss. „

„What?? I thought I was special? You are such a traitor. „

„Turns out you weren't the only one that was drooling over me. „

„Just so you know, that kiss doesn’t count. „

„So which one does? „

„This one. „

And he was right. That is the only that will ever matter.

[iamthecomet]

Hiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiii I just want you to know that my friend and I have been absolutely obsessed your fics and your Dew characterization. We keep reading them and then having literal book club level discussions about them and and honestly they have lead to our Dew brainrot getting out of control. Also I'm impressed the amount of range you have when writing. We read six of your fics independently before realizing all of them were by the same person. Like we would read one and then discuss and one of us would be like "well you should also read this other fic because the writing and characterization is so good" before being like "oh shit this is the same writer" so yea I just think you should know the massive effect you're having on our lives.

If it's not much, I'd like to know your thoughts on Dew's relationship with sex and how it pertains to his trauma. Although this fandom is primarily porn, Dew especially feels written to be super hypersexual compared to the other ghouls and it can manifest in interesting ways. Even if an author has not intended to write Dew as having an unhealthy relationship with sex, just the way that he is written in general by the entire fandom almost makes it seem like sex is the only thing he has to give (or at least that's what he thinks and that's how others act). So I've thinking lately about a Dew who becomes less enthusiastic about sex or even sex-repulsed and I'd just like to hear your insight on that.

Thank for you all the great work you put out into world. My friend and I enjoy it immensely.

HI!?!? Sorry I've been hoarding this ask since I got it last night because it made me INSANE?!!!?!? First things first this is so fucking SWEET!? YOU HAVE BOOK GROUP LEVEL DISCUSSIONS ABOUT MY PORN? I love you and your friend. THANK YOU. I cannot express how much this means to me. Highest levels of compliments right here. I'm so glad you read so much of my stuff independently and didn't realize it was me and still LOVED it. I am giving you and your friends SO MANY HUGS (if you want them). I'm really glad you love my Dew. He's SO special to me, and complicated and just, thank you for loving him too. AND now, onto the other part of this. Because I love to make Dew's life miserable (as you know). Some thoughts about Dew's relationship with sex, under the cut.

So, I sometimes think that post-elemental-transition Dew is really not into sex for a while. His whole body is new and different. He doesn't recognize himself in the mirror. His body doesn't WORK the same way anymore. Even jacking off isn't fun--it feels wrong. Like it's someone else's dick even though he feels it. He's not as wet. He's burning hot all the time. It's just not right. He's not right. And the idea of other people touching him? seeing him like this? he hates it. He wants nothing to do with it. Can't even stomach the thought of having sex with anyone else anymore. It isn't the same, never will be again. I also, sometimes think that Water Dew was less into sex than fire Dew. Not repulsed, just not enthusiastic about it. It was fun. It was a way to connect with his packmates. It meant something. Fire Dew? he's good at it, he's confident. People want him. And if he keeps them happy they'll keep wanting him. They won't leave. He'll never be alone again. I really think there's a little bit of all of that in even my version of Dew. The ebb and flow of his sexuality. From sex is a fun thing I do sometimes but it isn't everything )(or even very much of anything) to I cannot stomach the idea of having sex. I will never do it again. Thinking about it makes me want to shatter into a thousand pieces to, using it as an unhealthy coping mechanism for other insecurities he doesn't know how to talk about. And, I think, eventually, (after some hard conversations) to a version of him who just enjoys it. No insecurities. Does it when he wants--doesn't when it doesn't feel good. That he can lean into that ebb and flow of his own body and listen to it instead of constantly trying to fight against himself to be someone he thinks other people want. A hard-won version of himself that he, finally, actually likes.

[fuckyeahgoodomensfanfic]

Good Omens Fic Rec: Come Set Me Free

Aziraphale, a humble, inexperienced bookstore owner, marries Gabriel, an up and coming spiritual and relationship guru, author of a wildly popular series of books on maintaining a happy marriage in the new age. They move together to New York state to help support Gabriel's flourishing career, and Aziraphale finds himself a kept man in a stilted marriage. Gabriel inherits a sprawling Victorian manor house up in the Catskills and a faded greenhouse when his father passes away. They hire Crowley, a talented horticulturist with a shady past to bring the greenhouse back to life, and Aziraphale is instantly smitten. He's also dedicated to his marriage, even though he is coming to terms with the fact that it's unraveling. Anyway, it's a moot point, Crowley is straight... or so Aziraphale and Gabriel assume...

Length: 111,794 words

AO3 Rating: Explicit / Spice Level 🔥🔥🔥🔥

Best for: Slight Angst, At Home, Heavier Topics, Slow Burn

Triggers: References to abuse, drug abuse, sex work, HIV/AIDS

Read it here, fic by Slow_Burn_Sally

*Minor Spoilers* This one was a surprise standout for me. I'm backtracking to write this review and I'm rusty on some details, but I think it's a testament to this story how much of it stuck with me. Here we find Aziraphale as Gabriel's neglected and bored house husband. I'm sure nothing will change when he hires the mysterious and handsome Crowley to get their greenhouse back in shape. Excellent and engaging plot, and it uses it's side characters very well. It also uses a classic miscommunication moment in a really smart way. I won't spoil it obviously, but you know there will be some hiccups to them getting together (uh other than the whole Aziraphale being married) but in this story it's not overreactions. Actually it's a pretty reasonable reaction to details that would be concerning if you didn't have context for.

What I love here is how it treats both Aziraphale and Crowley's other relationships. This has been a story I've compared others to. In a lot of fics, their previous partners are only abusive and toxic and there's never any love to be found. I'm not saying that doesn't happen at all here, but that's not all there is. Crowley has a previous partner he loved very much, and that small plot is one of my favorite fanfic moments for him I've read. Plus he actually gets to be bisexual! Finally something that isn't afraid to give him a past female partner. On the other side, Aziraphale's relationship with Gabriel is not good but there was once real love there and we get to see it. I'm thankful that it doesn't rely on the trope that no one else has truly loved Aziraphale or Crowley other than each other. That's not what life is about. You sometimes have moments of true love and desire for people who end up being bad for you, or you outgrow. Mind the full tags on this story, there are some darker parts of Crowley's history. Nothing too intense on that though.

I wouldn't call this unsafe for public, I read a majority of it while at work myself, but I think this is a better one for at home. It's not super angsty or melodramatic but there's a slightly heavier tone sometimes. So settle in, and read this one comfortably in a more private place.

Read it here, fic by Slow_Burn_Sally

[moomkin77]

Fic Author Q&A

@ussjellyfish Thanks for tagging me!

1. Why do you write fanfic?

So, I publish under the same name as my tumblr profile (Moomkin_77!) and I honestly haven’t done that many fics. I’ve had ideas in the past for sure, but I’m a prose writer first and foremost and work on my own content, so funnily enough fanfics feel a little daunting to me. I think it’s because when I want to write a good fic, I want the characters to feel in-character (unless the goal is the opposite of course), which can be harder compared to creating my own characters who I already know the inner workings of. But mainly I started writing fanfiction because I love Moomin Valley, and I wanted to translate more of that wholesome happiness it brings me into something I’ve created and can then share with other people.

2. Which of your posted stories do you think about the most, even though the story is "finished"?

I’m bad at finishing things lol, but the Moomin Valley fic I’ve started is one I think about frequently. Chapter 2 is nearly done and I’m excited to share it!

3. If you could give yourself fic advice from when you first started writing fic, what would that advice be?

Just have fun with it. Take your time. I started writing my fic because I wanted something that made me happy with no pressure attached, so don’t pressure yourself. If you fall in writer’s block, you’ll find the inspiration you need in time. Just keep that love that got you to start the fic in the back of your mind and you’ll be alright. People that really love you and your writing will find the patience they need too.

4. What's your relationship to fic stats?

Uhhh, I honestly don’t pay attention to them ¯\_(ツ)_/¯

5. Is there a pairing or scenario or friendship you miss writing? If so, why? If not, why not?

Moomintroll/Snufkin are my beloveds, and if I ever find the inspiration and courage, I’d love to write Steve Harrington/Eddie Munson as well.

6. Why do you write for the fandom(s) that you write for?

Like I said before, Moominvalley makes me happy. It’s sweet and fun and full of so much kindness, whether it’s the comics, the cartoons, the video game, or the newer show from 2019. There’s a sort of whimsy to it that nothing else I’ve encountered captures and it brings me unspeakable joy. It’s that feeling in my chest that I want to keep, so how better to do that then write about it?

7. If you're stuck writing a WIP, what do you do?

Go watch the content material again, or read other fanfics in that fandom. One of my favorite Moominvalley fics is The Quest for Snufkin’s Memories by DigitalThespian and the writing is just so beautiful and the story so perfect for the fandom that it brings me joy every time I go back and read it.

And sometimes you just gotta take a break if you’re stuck. Don’t stress yourself out over it, give yourself a chance to breathe and think about what you wanna do.

8. What do you wish people knew about comments?

So, for me comments are the absolute. Even just a heart emoji. As an author, peer workshop classes were where you got to hear all the feedback from your classmates, and I always had a great time hearing what my friends thought of my writing as I worked to improve it. Comments that I leave on fics are where I pour my heart out when I read something that I really loved, so seeing people return that always makes me happy.

9. Maybe there's a question you wish had been on here. What's that questions (and answer)?

Question: As an author who doesn’t veer much into writing fanfiction (I’d rather just read it lol) what do you enjoy most about fanfiction as a media separate from regular prose?

Answer. I think what I enjoy the most is that it takes books, shows, movies, etc. we already know and love, and explores more about them. It creates more stories to love out of stories we already love, branching off in ways that the original author might never have considered. It’s just so fun and creative, and when I finally manage to publish my own novels, I think what I’m probably most excited for is to see what sort of fanfiction people will (hopefully) write about my own works 🩵

Thanks for this! It was fun 🥰

@steddieasshegoes @thetriggeredhappy @justakittenatheart