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ohisms · 2 months

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↪ ✧ 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐂𝐈𝐓𝐀𝐃𝐄𝐋 ( based on the oracle deck created by fez inkwright. each card represents an archetypal 'character' who resides in the citadel. send these as prompts for inspiring starters , or use them for drabbles ! feel free to combine prompts where desired . SEND A " ✧ " FOR RECIEVER TO RANDOMIZE A CARD ! )

𝐈. 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐂𝐎𝐔𝐑𝐓 , - the aspirant : ambition, diligence, setbacks. - the assassin : ruthlessness, conviction. - the catalyst : radical changes, taking control. - the diviner : divine timing, evaluation. - the fate : accepting help, guidance. - the founder : foundations, community. - the heir : unseen potential, hesitation. - the hound : loyalty, chains, promises. - the king : control, reversal of fortune. - the poet : relationships, vulnerability. - the queen : determination, sacrifice. - the sleeper : cause and effect, clarity. - the spymaster : knowledge, distrust. - the waker : awareness, reflection. - the wise one : tradition, order.

𝐈𝐈. 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐀𝐂𝐀𝐃𝐄𝐌𝐘 , - the acolyte : new projects, learning. - the alchemist : balance, invention, destruction. - the archer : biding your time, planning ahead. - the astronomer : discovery, augury. - the captain : taking command, teamwork. - the cartographer : a crossroads, exploration. - the champion : achievement, downfall. - the enchanter : deception, trickery. - the guide : inheritance, correction. - the orator : communication, confidence. - the patron : mentorship, finances. - the priest : perseverance, faith. - the scholar : investigation, research. - the sentinel : determination, certainty. - the warrior : perfectionism, burnout.

𝐈𝐈𝐈. 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐂𝐑𝐎𝐖𝐃 , - the botanist : parenthood, legacy. - the forgotten : missed opportunities, fear of failure. - the gambler : loss, risks. - the hunter : surefootedness , predestination. - the merchant : self-worth, trade. - the miser : stubbornness, inflexibility. - the muse : generosity, naivety. - the pathless : difficult decisions, lack of direction. - the pilgrim : opportunities, growth. - the sailor : new influences, wanderlust. - the shepherd : celebration, family. - the smith : overthinking, taking action. - the thief : seizing the moment, selfishness. - the vengeance : overcoming sleights, a choice. - the walker : the unknown, the journey.

𝐈𝐕. 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐓𝐑𝐎𝐔𝐏𝐄 , - the adventurer : responsibility, expectations. - the brawler : lack of empathy, confrontation. - the chiromancer : delivering news, collaboration. - the dancer : self-expression, strength. - the herald : small regrets, longing. - the mascareri : hiding your true self, projection. - the musician : inspiration, gratitude. - the painter : productivity, creation. - the puppeteer : explanations, apologies. - the runaway : secrets, running away from problems. - the storyteller : viewpoints, control. - the tailor : attention to detail, pride. - the twins : self-protection, dual natures. - the weaver : rediscovery, transition. - the witch : experimentation, rebellion.

#here's this for the lurking night crowd 💞🫶#rp prompts #drabble prompts #inbox prompts #rp memes #ohisms

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hansolsticio · 8 months

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ᝰ.ᐟ mark lee — insônia.

— namorado ! mark lee × leitora — gênero: smut. — conteúdo/avisos: idol ! mark, markie workaholic, mark lee é um homem teimoso, dry humping, sexo explícito, penetração vaginal, linguagem imprópria. — word count: 1732. — nota da autora: "vou escrever um drabble bem curtinho" pensei eu, mas tava doida pra escrever com o markinho. me empolguei.

"Eu te juro que vão ser só uns quinze minutinhos, amor. Juro de mindinho se você quiser.", o canadense implorou pelo que parecia ser a milésima vez na noite.

"Você não vai, Mark Lee. Deita aí e vai dormir, que amanhã é outro dia.", você disse despreocupada, nem se importando em abrir os olhos. Seus dedos seguravam firmemente o pulso do homem.

"E qual a diferença de eu dormir trinta minutos a mais ou a menos?", Mark conseguia ser uma pessoa muito teimosa.

"Você não tinha falado que eram quinze minutos?", você abriu um olho só, olhando pro rosto do homem deitado na sua frente. E ele te deu um sorriso sem graça.

"Mas eu preciso terminar de escrever essa música, gatinha. Por favor...", o rostinho se contorcia em um bico dengoso. Quem o visse, não diria que aquele era um homem crescido.

"Amanhã você escreve.", pontuou secamente, já era acostumada com a manha de Mark Lee.

"E se eu esquecer a ideia que eu acabei de ter?", insistiu mais uma vez. Você não aguentava mais, já estavam nesse debate faziam uns bons minutos.

"Mark Lee, se eu tiver que aguentar o Hyuck chorando na minha orelha mais uma vez, porque você está sem energia nos ensaios, eu juro que mato vocês dois. Vai dormir.", você o repreendeu, já estava meio estressada.

Haechan sabia que a falta de energia do amigo não era culpa sua, mas também sabia que você era a única pessoa capaz de colocar o canadense na linha toda vez que ele entrava nesse ciclo de 'workaholic'.

"Tá bom então. Você não me deixa fazer nada!", seu namorado bufou. Vendo você ignorar as reclamações e fechar os olhos novamente.

𐙚 ————————— . ♡

Foram exatos vinte minutos de puro teste ao seu autocontrole. Mark virava e revirava na cama como um peixe fora d'água. Você jurava que iria surtar se ouvisse mais um suspiro exasperado sair da boca do homem.

"Você ainda tá acordada?", perguntou vacilante.

"Sim, graças a você.", você pensava que Mark tinha muita sorte em ser o amor da sua vida, era a única explicação para toda a sua paciência.

"Eu não consigo dormir. Tô sem sono.", suspirou mais uma vez. "Se ao menos você me deixasse ir lá no estúdio bem rapidinho, eu-", o homem interrompeu a si mesmo, assim que te viu levantar abruptamente. Você levantou o edredom com impaciência, passando a perna por cima do corpo do homem, sentou-se no quadril de Mark. "O que foi?", o semblante confuso quase te fez rir.

"Vou te colocar 'pra dormir.", você respondeu como se fosse óbvio. O homem ficou estático, como se nunca houvesse tocado seu corpo na vida.

Percebendo a pane no sistema, você puxou os braços de Mark e os colocou em volta da sua cintura, dessa vez ele não hesitou e usou as mãos bonitas para te segurar com firmeza. Já as suas mãos foram ágeis ao se livrar da camiseta que você estava usando — camiseta essa que pertencia ao seu namorado, aliás. Teu sorriso veio automaticamente, assim que percebeu os olhinhos dele vidrados nos seus seios.

Você não perdeu tempo, abaixou-se rapidamente para conseguir beijar o homem embaixo de você. Se empenhou em fazer do jeitinho que Mark gostava. Beijando lentinho, lambendo e mordendo a boquinha bonita, só para ouvir seu namorado suspirar. Chegou até a sugar a língua molhadinha, sabendo que era o suficiente para fazer o canadense gemer. Mark não se surpreendeu com o fato de já estar pulsando dentro do short fininho que usava, poxa, ele já estava há tanto tempo sem sentir seu carinho — o comeback próximo estava fazendo a rotina dele ficar cheia demais, mal tinha tempo de te ver.

Ele separou os ladinhos da sua bunda, abrindo espaço suficiente para encaixar o volume bem perto da sua entradinha. Sem pudor algum, usou as mãos para mover seu corpo em cima do pau quentinho, franzindo as sobrancelhas enquanto soltava gemidinhos dentro da sua boca. Você se afastou para olhar seu namorado, os olhos quase se fechando e a boca abertinha, estava com tantas saudades de ver o rostinho cheio de tesão.

Vendo ele tão bonitinho, sua vontade era fazê-lo gozar dentro do short — que já grudava na glande meladinha. Mas você também sentia falta do carinho que só Mark sabia dar. Fez força para se levantar, lutando contra o aperto vigoroso do seu namorado, que não queria deixar você se afastar.

"N-não! Por favor...", a voz estava rouca, os olhos agora abertinhos pareciam te implorar para não se levantar.

"Quero sentar no seu pau, Markie.", forçou uma voz manhosa, esfregando a pontinha do nariz no pescoço cheiroso. Sentiu as mãos do seu namorado te soltando quase que automaticamente, o que te fez rir soprado.

Se levantou o suficiente para conseguir abaixar um pouco o short do canadense — que ergueu o quadril para te ajudar no processo —, nem se preocupando em tirá-lo por completo. Afastou sua calcinha para o lado e estimulou seu pontinho algumas vezes, tentando ficar ainda mais molhada para o seu namorado. Desceu dois dedinhos para sua entradinha, enfiando o suficiente para recolher parte do líquido transparente. Colocou esses mesmos dedos na boca de Mark, que aceitou sem reclamar, engolindo tudinho de olhos fechados.

Segurando-o pela base, pincelou a glande molhadinha no seu buraquinho. Mark te olhava hipnotizado, como se tivesse perdido a habilidade de se mexer. Finalmente sentou devagar, pulsando e apertando seu namorado no processo. O homem apertava as palmas, contendo a vontade de estocar os quadris para cima.

"Porra, tá tão quentinha, amor.", o homem diz cerrando o maxilar. As mãos não se contiveram, apertando sua cintura com afinco.

Rebolou lentinho, apoiando as mãos nas coxas macias atrás de você. Impulsionou os quadris para frente e para trás, ficando tonta com a sensação do pau do seu namorado se esfregando dentro da sua entradinha. A necessidade de sentir mais prazer tomava conta do seu corpo, levantou e abaixou os quadris algumas vezes, experimentando a sensação. Antes que fosse capaz de perceber, você já sentava com urgência, usando Mark como se ele fosse seu brinquedinho pessoal (e talvez ele fosse mesmo). A cabeça jogada para trás, os olhos cerrados e os gemidos dengosos que você soltava, faziam Mark querer te quebrar ainda mais.

"Minha garota tava com saudades de mim, é?", apertou mais sua cintura, te ajudando a subir e descer no pau dele. "Tá sentando tão desesperada, amorzinho. Quer que eu encha esse buraquinho de porra, não quer?", o jeitinho pervertido que seu namorado assumia toda vez que vocês transavam era, definitivamente, uma das suas coisas favoritas em Mark.

Seu corpo caiu para frente, os braços fracos se apoiando na cama, ao lado da cabeça de Mark. O homem só precisou olhar para o seu rostinho desnorteado, para perceber que você não estava no seu normal, estava sensível demais. Deu um sorriso safado ao sentir seu corpo tremendo de tesão, enquanto você se esforçava ao máximo para rebolar no colo dele.

"Fode, Markie... Me fode.", disse quase soluçando. O calor parecia consumir seu corpo, você achava que iria desmaiar em algum momento. Ele sabia qual era o seu problema, assim como sabia exatamente o que fazer para resolver. O homem te envolveu num abraço apertado e se virou para inverter as posições de vocês, sem sair de dentro de ti. Agora você estava deitada na cama com ele no meio das suas pernas.

"Eu amo quando você fica assim, gatinha.", usou o polegar para esfregar seu clitóris inchadinho, sem tirar os olhos da sua carinha necessitada. "Pede pro 'Markie' foder essa bucetinha de novo, pede.", estocou de leve, sentindo você apertá-lo, incapaz de falar alguma coisa. "Pede.", deu um tapinha no seu pontinho, vendo seu corpo arquear.

"Eu quero gozar, Markie... Por favor.", o tom de voz transbordava desejo, você precisava tanto disso. Os olhinhos marejados sendo a cartada final pro seu namorado.

Mark usou os braços para suspender o seu quadril, te deixando na altura perfeita pro pau dele. Não demorou muito para que os barulhinhos molhados tomassem conta do quarto, seu namorado estocava sem dó. Uma vez ou outra se enterrava bem fundo, rebolando a cinturinha habilidosa só para sentir você o apertando.

"Tão molhada, caralho. Tá me sujando todo, gatinha.", e não era mentira, Mark sentia o líquido quentinho escorrendo pelas bolas dele.

A sua cabeça estava uma bagunça, você sentia a glande esfregar um lugarzinho gostoso dentro de você em cada estocada. Sentia sua entradinha pulsar sem parar. Seu corpo molinho balançava junto com as estocadas, agora era Mark quem te usava como se fosse uma bonequinha. Seus olhos apertados não foram capazes de enxergar a expressão sapeca que havia tomado conta do rosto do seu namorado, a mesma que ele fazia sempre que iria aprontar alguma coisa.

O homem fez um carinho singelo na parte mais baixa da sua barriga, como quem não quer nada, somente para afundar a mão ali cinco segundos depois. Fazendo a sensação das estocadas se tornar mil vezes pior, era quase insuportável. Você se contorcia, apertando os lençóis sem controle algum, enquanto gemia uma série de palavrões misturados com o nome de Mark. Sua expressão muito mais desorientada do que antes, fazia seu namorado querer te encher de porra.

"Goza, putinha. Me mela todo, vai.", você não conseguiu segurar mais. Sua visão escureceu, a sensação tão gostosa te fez perder a voz, sentia seus músculos tensionando sem parar. Seu namorado não ficou atrás, a sensação da sua entradinha sugando ele para dentro deixou ele tonto, apertava sua cintura com força, estocando bruto enquanto sentia o pau te encher.

Mark saiu de dentro de você, se deitando em cima do seu corpo, os dois com a respiração descompassada. Compartilharam um beijo carinhoso, assim que recuperaram o fôlego.

"Você tá ovulando.", seu namorado te diz num abraço apertado.

"E essa é a primeira coisa que você me diz?", pergunta incrédula, ouvindo a gargalhada gostosa do homem.

"Sim...?", a risada não cessa, amando ver sua carinha de descrença.

"E você diz isso com base em...?", você questiona a "sabedoria" do seu namorado.

"Me baseando em todas as vezes que te comi.", responde em tom de esperteza.

"Mark Lee!", estapeia as costas do homem, que não faz nada a não ser se aninhar mais ao seu corpo.

"Fica quietinha, amor. Vai dormir que amanhã é outro dia.", ele sussurra com a voz sonolenta.

#ꫝ ' solie writes.#mark lee smut #nct x reader #mark lee x reader #nct smut

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greenhousethree · 1 year

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Good Enough

100-Word Drabbles for Arthur and Ginny Weasley

Fifteen drabbles written for @thethreebroomsticksfic Weasley Week, Oct 16th: Arthur Weasley. Read below or on AO3.

“You’re joking.”

Molly chews back her smile, shakes her head coyly. The house isn’t quiet, per say, but in a rare stroke of luck the twins and Ronnie’s naps have aligned.

And he’s wedged around the bathroom sink with his wife, giggling like children over a potion that’s just changed color.

“A girl…”

The day she’s born, Fabian is there. Peers over the bassinet for so long, Arthur wonders if he too is counting ten perfect pink toes.

“Shit,” he says to Arthur over a cigar that night, after talking war, “this world will never be good enough for her.”

ii.

It’s his turn tonight, when they hear little feet across the kitchen floor. He’s not surprised it’s her, face still blotchy, hair sticking up everywhere from this afternoon’s tantrum that left her knackered.

She whips around in the pantry doorway, eyes like saucers. “I’m hungry.”

After leftover stew from her yellow paisley bowl, he lays in bed with her. Grants her request for a story on the condition she doesn’t suck her thumb.

“Once upon a time, there was a witch named Ginny who lived in a deep, dark wood…”

“No, Daddy,” she whispers, eyes nearly closed. “I’m a dragon.”

iii.

Molly tells him she cried the whole way home from King’s Cross. By early afternoon, he can still tell— the aftershocks seem to surprise her, those gasping little breaths.

“You know the best part of being the last one left,” he divulges over homemade strawberry ice cream that has yet to do the trick, “is that no one’s here to fight you for your pick of broomstick.”

The rest of her bowl melts on the porch swing. She’s out until it gets dark in the orchard, comes in for supper with leaves in her hair and the biggest jack-o-lantern grin.

iv.

The day they bring her back home, he carries her trunk upstairs and sits beside her on the bed. Apologizes for ever blaming her, even for a second.

She counters by saying something lifeless and self-loathing and broken. Eleven-year-old fingers pick at bruised nail beds— tiny, perfect hands. He still can’t fathom it.

That night, Molly brings her dinner and doesn’t come back down. When he heads up to bed, he sees they’ve clearly emptied all her shelves, stacked every novel and journal and textbook outside her door where they can’t hurt her.

He’s never been angrier in his life.

Since this morning, he’s meant to tell her he’s sorry— sorry they couldn’t offer her anything better on her birthday than this condemnable house-turned-war room. Sorry for the second-hand leather satchel wrapped in faded Christmas paper, even though she wanted a broom; sorry everyone’s thoughts are on tomorrow’s hearing.

After dinner he finally says it, out of Molly’s earshot. Sitting on the stairs leading from the kitchen, plates of fudgy cake in hand.

“Don’t apologize.” She’s still smiling huge, bumps his shoulder. The Flatulence Fez the twins crowned her with slips down over one eye. “I really love the bag.”

vi.

It should’ve been the day that made them proudest as parents, marrying off their firstborn. It wasn’t.

This morning, they boxed up centerpieces and charger plates in the shed, repaired all the furniture, met with the Order. His ears still ring. The house is eerie without those three.

He finds them in her room. His wife is clutching their daughter as she sobs harder than he’s ever seen, inconsolable, wracking herself hoarse. He feels it like a sword to the chest.

In bed later, Molly shakes her head with that look he earns sometimes when he’s being thick. “She’s heartbroken.”

vii.

Friday before Easter, he changes from work robes into something Muggle and tweed and itchy. Platform 9¾ is packed with people avoiding eye contact, and the Express is late. It was late in December, too— arrived without Luna. He waits, terror tightening his throat.

He’s numb with relief when he sees her, one of the only kids lugging a trunk like he advised. She’s swimming in a jumper he’s sure is Ron’s, and that twinges a bit. There’s something different, he notices, walking to the entrance. Colder. Quiet. He doesn’t ask… can’t quite bear to.

Four days later, they flee.

viii.

She’s fighting him. Kicking, clawing.

He holds on with everything he has, arms clasped around her chest, and it’s like he can feel her breaking inside. But if he lets go, he’ll lose her, too. Like Fred.

Like the body they’re all staring at, lifeless at Hagrid’s feet.

Weeks later, when the Boy Who Lived finds him in the shed one night, hedging, guiltier than anyone he’s ever seen, he already knows. For a moment he considers letting the kid squirm, like the father ought to do.

But then he remembers her first year, and wordlessly hands over a screwdriver.

ix.

“One more,” she tells their waitress, pointing at a coaster she’s put in the middle. “For my sixth brother.”

The table falls quiet. But then George chuckles and they all take his cue, except Molly.

Snow collects on the windows as the bangers and pies and chips are served. She laments early-morning practices to them all, pretends she’s already bored of all the travel.

“Knock it off,” Charlie snickers, grinning. “Rookies can’t complain. We know you’re having a blast.”

At the end of the night she beats everyone to the bar, pays their tab. Arthur suspects it’s her whole paycheck.

“I definitely saw you cry,” she accuses. She’s graceful even in smugness, grinning something wicked over her lipstick-stained champagne flute.

He pretends to grumble, but he knows she knows. “Hard not to, with the bloody groom getting all choked up.”

The band calls them up soon after, and he pulls her close. “It’s okay,” she murmurs as her face starts to blur again, inches away. “Just admit you’ve gone soft, Dad. I won’t tell.” He tugs on her hand to spin her, chuckling.

They cut cake, and Harry whispers something that makes her laugh, and she lights up the room.

xi.

Predictably, the stadium loses it when she flies out with a new surname on her kit. Ron rolls his eyes as she lands on the pitch with a bit of swagger.

She flies well today, but he reckons she could miss every shot and the commentators would still talk of nothing else. In the stands, Harry laughs when Arthur leans over to ask how it feels to play second fiddle.

“I’ll never be good enough for her,” he snorts over the rim of his pint. “But I’m sure you knew that.”

She scores twelve goals, and the Harpies clinch playoffs.

xii.

“I’d kill for a drink about now,” she mutters, leaning against the railing. He knows better than to say she probably shouldn’t be out here, either— the venue’s porch, serving as refuge for men who normally never smoke.

He takes a long drag as they watch her boys toddle after their dad on the lawn. “Nearly there, sweetheart.” Treading lightly with his words, lest he incur any of what Muriel’s other well-intended mourners did with their attempts at small talk (“Like a fucking whale, thanks for asking”).

“Hey,” she smirks, “maybe you and Mum can buy a beach cottage now.”

xiii.

The mug Molly poured when they arrived is tepid now, sitting on the table. Shadows lengthen like ghosts beneath his daughter’s eyes; he suspects they’re five days old.

The kids are all asleep, Molly updates them.

Her jaw tightens. At her temple, he notices a couple of gray strands. “I can’t—” she whispers. Squeezes her eyes shut; nothing else comes out. “They need their dad. I’m not good enough on my own.”

“He’ll come home safe, darling. Always does.” And he makes her promise to never say that again.

He takes both of her hands in his, and they’re cold.

xiv.

They’re celebrating Ted and Vic beneath a canopy of fairy lights. Bill’s weepy toast prompts Fleur to frisk his brothers till she finds George’s flask.

She never realizes Ginny’s stowing the bottle.

His children outlast their kids and spouses. It’s one of those nights he can’t let himself miss, tired as he is.

His daughter points a wobbly finger. “Lils has a boyfriend, by the way. Doesn’t think we know. Harry’s going spare.”

He chuckles. “Now he gets it. Imagine trying to justify hating the Chosen One.”

She laughs, nearly tips her chair. “You should tell him that. Might help.”

xv.

It comes in waves. Feels like a lifetime has passed since yesterday; another before that. Molly— bless her— tried to prepare him for it. Tried to comfort him. Imagine.

It feels too big now, their little house on the beach. Perfect for two lives, cavernous with just one.

She finds him in the garden before sunset. Small, warm hands enclose his.

“Look, Dad.”

It’s a delicate, fluttering thing with blue wings, bobbing on the wind. Molly’s favorite.

“She’s found us again.”

He smiles and tucks a silver lock behind her ear, meeting her gaze— precisely the same shade of brown.

#arthur weasley #ginny weasley #girl dad #harry potter #molly weasley #weasleyweek #molly/arthur #hinny #ao3 #fatherhood

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void-blxck · 14 days

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O Rádio de Bentley - Good Omens

Sinopse: Depois da partida de Aziraphale, o demônio Crowley desamparado encontra conforto em Bentley, para ser precisa, no gosto musical do velho carro.

Good Omens | Anthony J. Crowley

Classificação: Livre

Idioma: Português

Categoria: Good Omens (Belas Maldições)

Personagens: Crowley, Aziraphale (apenas menção), Maggie (apenas menção), Nina (apenas menção), Bentley.

Avisos: Spoilers

Gêneros: Comédia, Conto, Drabs, Drabble, Doubble (Minicontos), Universo Alternativo

Capítulo Único

Crowley dirigia pelas ruas do Soho, como se procurasse algo, ou alguém, Nina e Maggie viam que ele passava por aquela rua mais de 50 vezes ao dia, elas sempre se entre-olhavam e suspiravam tristes ao ver o demônio procurando pelo seu anjo.

O rádio do Bentley tentava tocar algo para animar seu dono mas nada adiantava, Crowley mantinha o olhar baixo e vazio, sempre demorando muito para sair do caminho dos outros carros ou apenas indo para a contra-mão e quando um carro estava prestes a bater nele, o Bentley puxava a direção, sozinho, para a outra pista.

Crowley suspirou se recostando no banco, tirando as mãos do volante, o carro apenas continuou sua rota, até mudar seu som deprimido e colocar uma música mais animada, “Lady Of Ice” de Fancy.

O demônio franziu a testa enquanto o tom animado cruzou seus ouvidos, ele bufou e disse.

— Sério isso? Que droga de música! – Quando Crowley tentou trocar o carro acelerou, o jogando de volta no banco.

Ele bufou novamente e apenas murmurou um “que seja”, o carro parecia animado, balançando os limpadores de parabrisa em ritmo da música, dirigindo devagar e indo de um lado para o outro.

Crowley riu levemente por um momento, vendo que suas emoções foram tão grandes ao perder Aziraphale que ele fez seu carro criar vida, praticamente. Ele sorriu brevemente, passando as mãos pelos cabelos ruivos, agora mais volumosos e grandes, como quando era o ano de 2009.

O demônio sem perceber colocava as mãos no volante e mantinha o controle do carro, e ao passar novamente na rua da livraria, Maggie e Nina ao invés de ver o demônio triste, viram ele dançando, cantando e batendo no volante do Bentley, animado pela primeira vez desde a partida de Aziraphale.

— “A lady of ice, in a desert zone. Where a web of lies, has turned to stone!” - ele cantou alto pela janela do carro, assustando Muriel que derrubou os livros das mãos enquanto estava saindo da livraria para pegar um café.

#aziraphale #bentley #anthony j crowley #crowley #good omens #good omens fanfiction #maggie good omens #nina good omens #muriel #Spotify

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thechillsquid · 1 day

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Weird Grunkles- Blind Eyes Au

Little Drabble writing for the au cause I can

—

Dipper stared long and hard at one of their puesdo-grunkles, Bill, for what felt like an hour before he finally couldn’t stop himself from speaking, “How in the world did you get up there? More importantly, why?”

Bill was by far one of the weirdest people Dipper had come to know since coming to Gravity Falls, only really being beaten by Toby Determined by just barely. The guy was of an average build, about a head shorter than Stan (and just as wrinkly), with strange tattoos along his arms and legs that the boy was about 90% changed daily.

It took a moment to actually get a response, Bill staring back through his curtain of white-streaked curls before shrugging, “Squirrels were looking at me funny, kid, someone’s gotta chase em off.”

The preteen quietly repeated that to himself before asking slowly, “Are you… like stuck up there?”

He got a beaming, almost painfully wide, grin, showing off one golden canine and the gap between the older man’s front teeth. “Perhaps!”

Really Dipper couldn’t fathom half the shit he saw Bill do, espically when he was apparently older than Stan and Fiddleford (and trying to get any answers about any of the three’s ages was a nightmare he’d long given up on trying to figure out). The guy wasn’t exactly strong like Stan or much of an academic like Fidds, but he was sly and scarily insightful. As well as probably insane, seeing as he was most definitely pushing 50 years of age at the least and still got into situations like this.

This wasn’t even the first time this week that Dipper had spotted the guy in a spot where no one should be, like on top of the totem pole or balanced in tree branches. It was weird and unnerving and Dipper was fairly certain the guy wasn’t actually human.

“I’ll get a ladder…”

“Ask Specs, good ole Fez’s got a fear of heights,” Bill practically spoke in a sing-song, settling down so his back was against the tree’s trunk now. “Thanks, kid!”

Dipper just nodded slowly and went to find grunkle Fidds.

This town was so weird…

#gravity falls au #gravity falls #writing #my writing #dipper pines #bill cipher #blind eyes au

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zenmasterlover · 7 months

Text

Quick drabble of the first time Jackie stole Hyde’s aviators:

*gang quiet in the circle. Donna and Eric on the couch, Jackie on Hyde’s lap in his usual chair, Fez eating candy in his spot, Kelso playing with a water gun after Donna took his taser away*

Jackie: *takes Hyde’s glasses off his face quickly and puts them on*

Hyde: Dammit Beulah! I swear to g-

Jackie: *turns around so Hyde can see her face*

Hyde: only because you look incredibly sexy with those on. *throws her over his shoulder and heads to his room*. Later guys.

#that 70s show #jackie burkhart #steven hyde #jackie x hyde #zenmasters #drabble #mini drabble #jackie and hyde

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amethvysts · 6 months

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☀︎ ⋆⁺₊ SIMÓN HEMPE !

⋆⁺₊⋆ navigation | masterlist ⋆⁺₊⋆

#1. DRABBLES

nenhum ainda.

#2. CONCEPTS

simón!br. simón!footballer.

#3. HEADCANONS

AS CANÇÕES QUE VOCÊ FEZ PRA MIM ❨ lsdln cast ❩.

AMANTE AMADO ❨ simón e matí ❩ : seu namorado só quer ser mandado, adorado, acariciado, machucado e amado por você.

BFB ❨ simón!bfb ❩ : só alguns headcanons aleatórios sobre o simón, o irmão mais velho da sua melhor amiga.

#4. MOODBOARDS

MILLION DOLLAR BABY! ❨ simón!footballer ❩ : tagalerando sobre simón!jogador de futebol.

MAROTOS!AU.

#5. ONE-SHOTS

nenhum ainda.

#⋆ ࣪. amethvysts ۫ ⁎#simón hempe #simón!footballer #simón!br

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marleyybluu · 2 years

Text

Fezco 'Fez' O'Neill

some content contains mature subject matter/18+ reads only. Minors stay off that shit, please.

Updated: 29.09.23

smut **

One Shots

Baby Daddy **

Say It

Quickies **

Better Than Him **

Fight For You

Wherever **

Series

Friend Request

Headcanons/drabbles

Trick or Treat

Kissin Santa Claus

Untitled

#fezco euphoria #masterlist

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xnerbby · 11 months

Text

︎︎ ︎︎ ︎ ︎︎ ︎︎ESPECIAL DE HALLOWEEN!

🪦. FANFICS:

¹. WHEN PERTURBED SOULS FOUND EACH OTHER

SINOPSE: Almas perturbadas vestiam essa pele humana para esconder o demônio que habitava em si. E Huh Yunjin encontrou àquela que não teria outra escolha a não ser passar o resto da vida ao seu lado em uma noite conturbada. Estava frio, as folhas das árvores se mexiam em pavor e o sorriso diabólico da mulher de olhos escuros a deixou fascinada. Sua alma borbulhava em alívio. [DRABBLE | 500 PALAVRAS | +18]

LEIA.

². HAUNTING WOMAN'S HOUSE

SINOPSE: A dor insuportável em sua barriga a fez perder as forças, incrédula e horrorizada que fantasmas poderiam cruzar aquela barreira e dar fim em uma pessoa de forma óbvia, mas ela também nunca acreditou no sobrenatural. As risadas ecoavam em sua mente, aqueles olhos estavam tão perto de si. Minjeong pediu por misericórdia, mas de nada adiantou. [DRABBLE | 443 PALAVRAS | +18 | MORTE]

LEIA.

³. QUER SER A JENNIFER DA MINHA NEEDY?

SINOPSE: Era finalmente dia 31 de outubro, Halloween para ser mais exata, e Lia não podia estar mais ansiosa para sair pelo bairro pedindo doces ou travessuras para seus vizinhos. Em especial sua vizinha, Ryujin, que naquele dia não poderia sair de casa e ficaria no lugar de sua irmã mais velha, Seulgi, atendendo a porta. O plano era fazer a mulher finalmente notar sua existência, já que sua fantasia era combinando com a dela, mas de algum jeito as coisas não seguiram como esperava e ainda sim terminou como queria. [ONE SHOT | 6K PALAVRAS | +16]

LEIA.

#divulgação de fanfic #halloween #halloween fanfic #le sserafim #le sserafim kazuha #le sserafim yunjin #shinez #aespa #aespa ningning #aespa winter #aespa giselle #itzy #itzy lia #itzy ryujin #jinlia #spirit fanfics

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nikkiruncks · 10 months

Note

https://www.tumblr.com/hydesjackiespuddinpop/735071324305833984/could-we-get-some-more-angst-in-here-please

Hiya, Poorni ❤! Could I please request prompt 28 with Eric telling off the '70s basement gang when they bash him for hanging out with the 'moron' friends?

(This takes place in s5. Eric and Donna are just friends here though and Hyde isn't an asshole.)

Eric begins to pack up his stuff to hang with the gang. Things had been pretty good with them all lately: Caroline was getting treatment for her bipolar disorder, Buddy was planning on getting his GED, Mitch has a new boyfriend, etc. Things were all going well.

He missed hanging out with Hyde and his heart ached not being with Donna. But he definitely did not miss Jackie's snide remarks about his physique, his relationship with Donna among other things. And he certaintly did not miss Kelso's gross and dumb comments. Not to mention the amount of times he offers to 'pleasure' Donna.

"You know Big D, I can do things to you that Eric never could've. Well I mean, it's not like he ever did anything worth mentioning." Kelso winked, attempting to grab Donna's breast only to be met with a slap on the face by the redhead.

And the way Fez would judge him and his relationship with Donna. Like he was one to talk. This was the same guy who groped Rhonda and spied on Donna and Jackie changing. Yet Fez wonders why he's the only virgin in the gang.

"Hey Forman, headin' out?" Eric turned around to see Hyde and Donna right behind him. At least some people aren't assholes.

Eric nodded, "Yeah. And Donna, I'll be at counselling, don't worry." Donna smiled, "Never had a doubt in my mind." The exes shared a tender look, smiling at one another.

Jackie walked in, rolling her eyes. "God my eyes are burning. Donna, can you and your sister stop making googly eyes?" Eric crumbled his fist. Jackie was really getting on his last fucking nerve. He let her into the basement and the circle, yet she can't even show his some respect? He knew he wasn't perfect but at least he made an effort, for Donna and now Hyde. But she never did the same.

"Jackie, do you ever just shut the fuck up for once in your life?" Eric scoffed, lightly punching the table. It felt so good to let that out. He looked at Donna and Hyde, who seemed to be completely shocked.

Kelso and Fez, who were walking into the room, looked completely dumbfounded. "Woah, easy Eric. Go easy on this beautiful lady." Kelso wrapped an arm around Jackie, who just pushed it off. Fez chimed in, "Yeah, it's probably Crazy Caroline and those goons making him say that. He knows that Donna is lucky to be with-"

Before Fez could finish, Eric punched him in stomach. The chestnut haired man exhaled. I deserved better. I still deserve better.

Fez fell flat onto the ground, wincing while holding his stomach. Eric stood tall and high in front of them. "You guys are lucky I never kicked you out my basement. Especially you Fez. Yeah, I know what you did to Rhonda. And that you spy on Jackie and Donna changing. So I suggest maybe shutting the fuck up about my relationship."

#answered #sunshine ☀️#my drabbles #eric forman #donna pinciotti #steven hyde #anti jackie burkhart #anti michael kelso #anti fez #man this was so liberating to write #hyde and donna as eric's people is so :)

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thatseventiesbitch · 1 year

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A while ago, someone asked you what you thought about the T7s gang doing circle as adults and being caught by their kids, so I was wondering if you could write something like that, i love how you capture the essence of the characters. ❤️🙌🏻

Thanks for the ask (and for that high praise!). This one turned into a full story, I think, rather than just a drabble, but I had a fun time writing it. If you have a prompt request, feel free to send it in here. 😊

If you'd prefer to read on A03: Full Circle

Fez and Sherri's Kitchen

"Thanks for the cookies and juice, and for the tour of my old place, Fez," Donna patted her friend's arm across the table and they all stood up, pushing back their chairs. "But we should probably get going. Chicago traffic is no joke."

"Well you can thank my lady love for the refreshments," Fez gestured around at their beverages with a smile. Then he cupped his mouth and said in a more hushed tone, "She still doesn't buy the right candy though, bless her heart. I have personal stashes all over the place."

Eric nodded. "I have the same problem with," he made a sound in the back of his throat and indicated Donna. "Yeah."

"What?" Donna frowned, annoyed.

"What is with all that sugar-free stuff you keep buying?" Eric raised his eyebrows. "Huh?" He scowled. "No one's eating that crap."

"Eric," Donna glared at him. "If you did the grocery shopping, we'd be living off of cereal and bacon."

He shrugged at her, like he wasn't hearing the problem. "That sounds like a nice life." She continued to raise her eyebrow at him, and now she crossed her arms tightly across her chest. She'd affixed him with a thousand-yard stare, and Eric began to back-pedal. "But not as nice as my life," he gave them both a tight smile and then set his arm around Donna's shoulders. She was stiff beneath his touch, and he sighed. "See ya later, Fez."

"I'll mail you some tootsie rolls," Fez hissed to Eric, and he nodded his thanks as they headed for the door.

They were nearly barreled over by an enthusiastic Michael Kelso before Eric could get his hand on the doorknob, however.

"Oh, great! You guys are still here!" he yelled spastically.

He entered the kitchen with the same chaotic energy. His police hat was askew, and he dug into his pants pocket with such verocity that it caused Donna to jump back and exclaim, "Whoa, Kelso!"

"No - I have a parting gift!"

"She doesn't want to see it," Eric said firmly, stepping between Donna and Kelso. "None of us have ever wanted to see it, Kelso."

"Not that," Kelso sighed, exasperated. Then he waggled his eyebrows. "Although Pepe has grown distinguished in his older age, Eric, and your wife might want to - "

Donna interrupted him with a hard punch to his bicep, and Kelso groaned just like when they were teenagers.

"What's your gift, moron?"

"I thought you'd never ask." A cat-who-ate-the-canary grin stretched across Kelso's face, as he produced the small brown baggie he'd been rooting for in his pocket. "It's this."

Eric frowned. "Is that - "

"Oh yeah! I just confiscated it from some little punk down at the skatepark." He pumped his fist enthusiastically.

Eric crossed his arms. "Kelso, we can't - "

"Of course we can," Fez interrupted. He gestured around them. "We're grown-ups now. This is my kitchen." A playful gleam was in his eye. "Let's have at it!"

But Eric didn't uncross his arms. "Isn't this your new girlfriend's kitchen?"

"What's hers is mine," Fez shrugged. "Like those cookies. The $20 I borrowed last week. And sometimes I even wear her little lacy underwear, it just gives me that extra kick thr - "

"Okay," Eric clapped his hands together, cutting Fez off. He shook his head at Kelso. "The answer's still no, Kelso. We’re - "

"I'll do it," Donna shrugged.

"What?" Eric turned to her, stunned.

Donna ignored her husband's shocked reaction, and spoke directly to Fez and Kelso. "I just - I didn’t know how things were between you two after…” she trailed off uncertainly.

"They are better than ever,” Fez assured her. He came up to stand next to Kelso, and clapped his shoulder. Both men grinned at each other. "Now that I have Sherri in my life - and I see what a nightmare Jackie is to be married to - we have put our differences behind us." He wiped some fake sweat off his face. "I mean, talk about dodging a bullet!" Then he hastily glanced at Kelso. "No - ah, no offense."

Kelso put up his hands - none taken. He was laughing like an idiot. An idiot who might've already dipped into the little brown baggy.

"Wow,” Donna nodded, surprised and impressed. “It’s good to hear you guys worked out your differences.”

“The gang is back together, baby!” Fez proclaimed happily.

“Yeah it’s just like the old days,” Kelso agreed, a dopey grin on his face. He shook the baggie, and a rolled joint fell out into his palm along with a lighter. “So c’mon. We doin’ this, or what?”

Donna shook her head, bemused. “One quick one couldn’t hurt,” she chuckled.

"Donna - " Eric grabbed her by the shoulders now and shook her a little. "What are you doing?"

"Oh come on. We haven't done this in like, 15 years. Aren't you curious?"

"Exactly," Eric raised his eyebrows. "We haven't done this in like, 15 years." He watched in disbelief as she shook him off and took a seat at the kitchen table next to Kelso, who was now lighting up the joint. “We’re adults.”

"You don't have to do it, Eric," she pointed out, chuckling. Kelso handed her the joint, and she took a puff.

"Yeah," Kelso agreed. "Jackie always tells our kids not to feel peer pressure. Cuz they're way better than their peers, they're Kelsos." He gave a dopey smile.

Donna finished her pull, and then held the joint out towards Eric. He was still standing next to her. She quirked an eyebrow up at him. "You want it, or no?"

He hesitated only a moment longer before he broke. "Ugh," he grunted, reluctantly accepting the joint from her with stiff fingers. He slid into the open chair next to her. "Just... one… or… two..."

Unlike the others, he coughed heartily after inhaling the smoke.

"This - " he hacked. "T-this is awful!"

But the euphoria was already setting in - it was apparent. For all of them.

"Do you ever think about the word 'moist'?" Fez asked the group. They all repeated it various times. "M-m-moooist," Fez drew out the word. "I just - I like the way it feels in my mouth."

"You know what I like in my mouth?" Kelso grinned. "Pringles." They all nodded. He followed it up with a dope-y grin. "Oh, and also boobs."

"Agreed on both counts," Eric nodded at him. He hacked again as he took his second hit. He glanced over his shoulder as he passed it to Donna. "Got any Pringles in here, Fez? What else does lady Sherri stock the shelves with?"

Fez scurried to the fridge and started pulling out random things. Hotdogs, a jar of cherries, a block of cheese. Then he ran to the cupboards and did the same. A loaf of bread, a bag of pretzels, a jar of nuts, cookies.

"You guys shouldn't be doing this," Donna shook her head, watching Fez wearily. "Don't take their food. She has a family to feed!"

But the guys ignored her. Kelso ate some olives raw from the jar, sticking them on his fingertips before eating them off one by one. Fez bit into a block of cheese, made a face, and then spit his mouthful out onto the countertop. And Eric was helping himself to a sleeve of Oreos.

“Ah, she won’t mind,” Fez waved Donna off.

“Yeah. She won’t mind,” Eric echoed, speaking around a full mouthful. Donna raised an eyebrow at him as he took his seat again, spewing crumbs everywhere as he piled his mountain of junk food high in front of him. He gave her a sheepish smile and then offered her the open baggie of cheese curds he held, a peace offering. “Want some?”

Donna rolled her eyes, but quickly seemed to forget her indignation and accepted a cheese curd. She dissolved into giggles after chomping down on one. “It squeaks between my teeth,” she giggled.

“So Fez, how long have you been doin’ Sherri, man?” Kelso popped a cheese curd into his mouth. “She seems nice.”

“Ai, so nice,” Fez agreed, dreamily. He took his hit off the joint and then passed it to Donna. “Nice hair. Nice skin. Nice feet. Nice butt. Nice - ”

“And you like other things about her too?” Donna prompted.

“I like everything about her, Donna.” Fez lifted a hand to his chest, sincere. He sighed happily. “I think she’s the one. You know?”

“The one for what?” Kelso asked dumbly.

“The one.”

“What one?”

“Kelso - ” Eric shook his head, exasperated. He plucked the still-burning joint from his fingers. “Like, the one. The chosen one.” He took a hit, and coughed. “You know, like Luke Skywalker.” He lifted his eyebrows at his poor, stupid friend, like the answer was obvious. “She’s a jedi.”

Donna started to laugh, clutching her stomach.

Eric lowered his voice conspiratorially, ignoring Donna. “Fez, what color is her lightsaber?”

Kelso made a high pitched noise in the back of his throat. “She has a…?” he made a crude gesture with his hand, indicating his genitals.

Now Donna was laughing so hard she nearly tipped out of her chair sideways. She clutched the side of the table to keep herself upright.

“No, no, no!” Fez threw his arms out and waved them spastically, trying and miserably failing to direct his friends’ attention back to the topic. In all of the chaos, none of them heard the front door open or the herd of teenage kids filing towards them down the hallway.

A startled yell rang out across the kitchen a few seconds later - Gwen’s. “What are you doing?” Nate, Jay, and Leia stood just behind her at the door to the kitchen.

“Ai, no.”

“Is my mom home?”

Gwen stalked across the kitchen towards their family’s new kitchen table. Her eyes were wide as she took in the joint, bewildered as they flickered back and forth between Fez, Kelso, Eric, and Donna, who all sat there with wide eyes and shocked, gaping expressions. “Are you smoking?” Then she whipped around and took in the scene at the breakfast bar, the food strewn across every available surface. She whipped back and zeroed in on Fez again, her eyes narrowed down into tiny, angry slits.

“Is that all our food? What are you doing?” she repeated.

“Ai, no,” Fez repeated with a gulp. He seemed to be stuck, just as frozen as the rest of them.

“Mom? Dad?” Leia’s arms were crossed, her brow furrowed as she stepped further into the room to stand in front of Eric and Donna. They both looked down sheepishly. “What’s going on?”

“Le-Le, we’re just… um… we’re…” Donna trailed off and glanced at Eric, looking for help, but he just shrugged.

“I don’t know. This was your idea, missy.”

She scowled at him. “Oh, my idea.” She shook her head and pointed at Kelso. “Officer Ganja over there brought the stuff - ”

“Dad. Is this true?” Jay frowned. He stood just behind Leia, his hands propped authoritatively on his hips. “You’re a cop. You should know better.”

“Well I - I,” Kelso stuttered. “It was really Fez’s fault. He’s the one who said we could do it here.”

“Both true,” Eric interjected. “This was really Kelso and Fez’s deal.” He clasped his hands together and looked at his daughter eagerly. “Look, Leia, I just want you to know…” he looked at her meaningfully. “I didn’t inhale. Okay?”

Donna and Leia both rolled their eyes.

“Where did you get this from?” Jay interrogated Kelso. “Was it those kids at the skatepark?” He shook his head and looked at Leia. “I told you, they’re bad news.”

Leia nodded in agreement. “I saw one of them by the gas station the other day and his hat was sideways like this,” she mimed what it looked like, tilting it in an exaggerated fashion above her forehead. She shook her head. “Hooligans,” she muttered.

Next to them, Gwen and Nate were grilling Fez with the same fervor.

“Does my mom know you do this?” Nate asked.

“And can you get us some?” was Gwen’s question.

The adults, unfortunately, were in no state of mind to be answering such questions.

“Mom, we need to talk,” Leia insisted, frustrated.

“About…” Donna trailed off, losing focus. She stared at her daughter, squinting hard as she tried to think. “Your hair?” she finally guessed. “It’s so soft and fluffy,” Donna gushed, smiling at Leia. Leia brought her hand up to play with it, thoughtlessly. “What do you wanna do with it for school this year? What about layers - ”

“No,” Eric interrupted, shaking his head. “No, that’s not it. Leia, we need to talk about - ” but he frowned as he, too, seemed to forget.

“Your irresponsible choices?” Leia filled in for him, sucking on the front of her teeth in annoyance.

“That’s it,” Eric snapped his fingers, agreeing.

Next to them, Kelso laughed idiotically at Jay and Leia as he lectured him about the dangers of peer pressure and the effects of illicit drug use. He pointed at their heads, laughing until he was nearly crying at some sort of hallucination that must’ve involved the swap of their heads. Fez seemed entranced with the wallpaper beyond Gwen’s head, and he stared at it as if it was a movie screen with hypnotizing special effects.

Giving up, Leia glanced at her friends wearily. “What do you think we should do with them?”

Gwen lifted an eyebrow. She’d lifted the rest of the brown paper baggy from the middle of the table, and now she shook it lightly at her. “I say we take the rest of this bag-bag, and ditch-ditch.”

“Wait, so that’s - that’s it?” Leia frowned, glancing around the room at her still-stoned-as-shit parents.

“Oh no, Leia,” Gwen assured her, chuckling. She set her arm around her shoulder as they made their way back towards the Forman’s basement. “This is just the beginning of a wonderful new stage for you. It’s called blackmail. Come on, I’m gonna teach you all about it.”

The front door to the Runck’s house slammed shut behind the kids, and the kitchen was quiet once again for a few beats of silence.

Slowly, Eric started chuckling.

“Oh, man. I just had the weirdest hallucination.” He slapped the top of his knee, amused. “The - the kids walked in here and - ”

“That was real, dink.”

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queengalaxia69 · 1 year

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Hi! Hru? Just curious but do you take any drabble requests? Oh and what are your t7s and t9s (if you watched) ships?

Hiya there, I was (still) busy with my work and friends but I'm alright! Thank you for reaching out to me. I usually do not drabble or general requests since I’m uncertain about my writing skill. Someday, I would post the fanfic that I have been writing. (Psst- It's about That 70 Shows…)

To answer your question,

That's 70 Show's favorite ship:

Canon ship:

Jackie/Hyde

Kitty/Red

Brooke/Michael

Donna/Eric

Fez/Candy (I mean I’m ok with him dating girls or guys but I’m not engrossed in his dating life.)

Non-canon ship

Jackie/Eric

Jackie/Donna

Caroline/Eric (because reading fanfiction about them is damn good, how I can resist it-)

That's 90 Show’s favorite ship:

Canon ships:

Kitty/Red

Donna/Eric

Non-canon ships (hope they could make it happen):

Leia/Gwen

Gwen/Nikki (They give me a bizarre similar to Jackie/Hyde dynamic. Can't wait for the turn of season two out.)

I'm still waiting for more seasons and episodes of That's 90 shows. So I can conclude my favorite individual ship.

Fun facts: I loathe Jackie and Hyde together from the beginning even their first prom together. I do think they are so creepy and unnatural relationship because Hyde and Jackie are completely opposite. Burnout and princess. Stoner and cheerleader. ‘I don't care and don't trust the government’ guy and ‘Give me attention or I will scream’ girl. And Jackie and Kelso are my used to my favorites. Ew. Until they captured my heart moment when Hyde and Jackie slept together without sexual interaction after Jackie’s home started to downhill. I start to realize that Jackie and Hyde do have in lot common that I would expect it.

Thank you for your message! Hope this answers your question! 💕

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lavenoon · 2 years

Note

Specialty as a fanfic writer, let's go!

(Here I am taking that post very literally, so I'm gonna choose a specialty that is relevant specifically to it being fanfic, because I think it's an interesting way to think about it instead of just general writing, and I hope to explain myself well kfdjhgskñjgh)

I am assigning you "never forgets the fun! "

(And here I'll say, I really need to learn from your example on this one fjkhgkjsh)

Because Luce, literally following what you come up with is so much fun!

And that's what fanfic is! Fun! A hobby! Something that can be frustrating at times, but also is supposed to make us happy! And I just love that about what you make, because it's so clear how much you enjoy it. And just for the sake of clarity, you are an awesome writer! These are not mutually exclusive, of course, and in fact I think these aspects work so well together for what you do! You have so much fun creating your story, you know your characters so well, that placing them in a dozen variations of the same premise is absolutely no problem and I would (and have) read each and every one of them! You care so much about the connections between characters and the themes you explore and you have a blast while doing it too! And I have a blast witnessing it!

When someone makes an offhand comment and you suddenly go "Oh?", I just can perceive the little lightbulb turning on above your head and I just know we are in for a treat! Because what you make is just so genuine and heartfelt that the enthusiasm is just contagious! All the things you explore, be it by drabbles, or multi-chapter arcs, or your comics (comics are literature too and no one can change my mind on that XD), and the way you just opened a gate for other people to have fun with your AU too, it's just all so wonderful! The possibilities are endless and they're all there waiting for you to choose which ones inspire you the most!

What you make just represents the spirit of fanfic so terrifically and I am all for it, all day every day!

(and... if I'm being a little sappy for a moment here, I've always been just a bit too selfconscious about truly indulging and having fun so freely and trying stuff like this at all and I have some trouble coming out of my shell sometimes, so following along with AU and all the discord shenanigans has just made me feel the tiniest bit better about joining in on the fun, so you get a very heartfelt thank you from me for that <3)

I was gonna say the post said "on anon" but yknow, if you had sent this in on anon that would not have been anonymous anyway GFHDJS <3 That being said...

I'm blaming the fact that it's early but I really am just a little weepy and it took me like three times of reading to finally formulate some thoughts but most of them are just blubbering and or happy keysmash

Wanted to say that I just can't not explore things - but I realize I could. But where would be the fun in that? Fun has me in a chokehold and I'm never even considering not to indulge!

It makes things hard to follow and I'm self-conscious about that at times, which may make the weepiness partly out of relief/ reassurance. Always happy to hear that it's fun to follow along wherever my adhd brain takes me, and it is fun to explore - I love doing it!

I write fanfic for my fanfic, and apart from those bouts of "oh god no one's gonna be able to follow this mess of an AU" I'm so so happy to do it! There are so many different ways things could have gone, and I'm a huge sucker for the "soulmates in the 'in every universe, I'd choose you' way" trope - they choose each other, again and again and no matter how they meet, it turns out okay! Even the (discord exclusive (so far) because I wasn't confident enough to post Glamrock stuff before) version of AU where Robin works for Abra Fez with the Glamrocks - they still get to have fun with their boys! There's a happy ending! (and lots of shenanigans on the way gfhdsj)

The dynamics change and that's a lot of fun, and yeah I really just. Have to agree with your judgement - except I think fun would never let me dare forget it gfhdjsk

I love seeing what other people come up with - fanart and fanfic and the agentsona shenanigans, I always intended for this AU to be a sandbox to play in! I do it at any given moment, and it's so much more fun with other people enjoying themselves too! It can be silly, it can rely on so much suspension of disbelief, as long as it is fun! That is the most important part, and I'm glad to deliver!

(Also very glad to coax you out of your shell - it can be scary to be self indulgent when you feel so observed! Cringe culture is dead but its effect lingers! But I'm always gonna be very vocal about my support for self-indulgence because it is so much fun, that's even more dynamics to explore! It's nice, it's fun, and hurts no one - so I wish you heaps of self-indulgence in your future <3)

#answer let luce #chaotikanvas #ask game #technically still fghdjs #also yes this took me an hour because of distraction and also just. the above mentioned mental blubbering and keysmash #tbh I think. I think that whatever break I took from writing publicly helped immensely #The only thing I wrote during that time was many many self insert fanfics #sometimes with the same character but different premises #so many dynamics #so I just got used to that and now refuse to rein myself in #and why would I if it gets me asks like this?#feel good #;v; <3

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