#haven't check the inbox thing in years

[child-of-the-undead]

Hi there, greetings from another VHD lover. I have a question for you - how you headcanon D and Adrian Tepes? As fellow dhampires? Half-brothers? Possible future friends (if/when they meet)?

I have a headcanon where D meets Adrian and have conversation about their/each other's abilities. In my headcanon Adrian see D as older brother, and D is a bit envious of Adrian because Adrian have it more easy to BLEND IN/FIT human society.😀

Hi!!

I headcanon them as half brothers.

I find the thought of Adrian being the oldest very funny, idk why. And I also think they would poke fun of each other, but in a way that's so dead pan it is way funnier for the people around.

They probably bond over their daddy issues, not in a "talking their way through it" way but on a "silently sitting in the same room in contemplation knowing the other person probably feels in a similar way" type of bonding. Leftie probably makes fun of them both because of it, lol.

I wonder if they feel jealous of each other. Like, maybe D wishes he had an actual father figure, and Adrian wishes to be as distant in relation to their father as D seems to be. I'd totally get you on the human-passing envy.

I think they would get along pretty well in general, once again, in a "chilling in silence" way.

[doodlingwren]

Ok, back to girlblogging eheh (๑•̀ㅂ•́)و✧

[sacredsorceress]

Scars / Logan Howlett

pairing: dofp!logan howlett x mutant!reader summary: every person has a soulmate. after settling in the future that he saved, logan starts to consider his next mission when a suspicious mark appears on him. word count: 3.2k a/n: good ol'fashioned soulmate AU. this is the first actual fic i've written in a long time so please have some grace. reblogs and replies are super appreciated! warnings: general mentions of logan's past, scars, self-doubt, alcoholism, reader smokes a cigar, mentions of razors, scars, wounds, two uses of y/n

logan masterlist | inbox | full masterlist

It had been a week since Logan woke up in his healed timeline.

For most people, the change would have been dramatic. But Logan was far unlike most people. The initial dreamlike state he was in when he first walked through the mansion- seeing the ghosts he had once known returned to the flesh, unscathed- quickly subsided. Logan had always been a man thrown onto a new path- how he lived life constantly changing to best fit his interests. Now, with his newfound peace he found the most complicated mission of all: what to do with the life he was now free to live?

Even before the sentinels, the battles, the wars- he had always been a man on the run. He was solo, strategic, concise. For a man who was gifted with infinite regeneration, he had solely concerned himself with staying alive. He ate for sustenance, sought shelter for safety, and nursed a bottle to find enough peace of mind to sleep at night.

The professor had once told him that for a person to reach self-actualization they first had to have all of their needs met. Logan had scoffed at the time, assuring the professor that he knew himself just fine. But now, with his problems so solved that they had ceased to ever exist, he wondered if maybe the professor was right.

Who was he? Where did he go from here?

The answer was found in the form of a scar on his hand.

"Well, everything seems to be just fine."

Logan scoffed at the blue man in front of him

"Well it's not." Logan said. "Check again."

Two days after he had come back, a large, circular scar had appeared on the palms of each of his hands. When they hadn't disappeared after two minutes, he rushed to the bathroom and nicked himself with his razor, watching as the wound healed with only blood dripping down his scruff as a remanent of it. Thirty minutes after that he found himself in the lab with Hank, Jean, and the Professor hypothesizing his miraculous marks.

"Logan, the tests came back clear." Jean assured him, leaning against the wall. "Maybe it's time to consider that it's something else."

Logan quirked his head towards her.

"I haven't had a scar in over two hundred years," he reminded her, his voice laced with irony. "I get not one, but two and you... what? Think it's a coincidence?"

Before Jean had a chance at rebuttal, the professor moved to face Logan.

"That's not what Jean's inferring, Logan." Charles reminded him. "We're simply asking that you consider other options. Less... dire options. It could, after all, be a good thing."

"Yeah?" Logan scoffed. "Like what?"

A silence hung in the air.

When Logan had first come to them with news of his scar, the thought had been on all three of their minds. Still, there were a plethora of things that could have caused that. Though, when the tests came back clear and his skin continued to heal from all sorts of abrasions, it felt as if there was only one answer for his seemingly magical scars.

However, none of them were keen on sharing this diagnosis with Logan. One wondered whether he'd handle the idea of his body failing him over fated love.

Hank was the first to speak up.

"Like a soulmate."

Oh that was rich, Logan thought.

Logan wasn't unfamiliar with the idea of soulmates.

Around the time that two fated lovers were destined to meet, there would be a sign for each of them. In some cases they were eyes changing colors, feeling the other's pain, finding their names everywhere they looked. In other cases they were new birthmarks, tattoos, scars.

In some way, the two were inextricably connected.

In his long life he had seen others experience it dozens if not hundreds of times. When the first thirty years of his life rolled around with no one, Logan accepted that he was one of the outliers. He considered it for the best and by now, with everything that he had gone through, the concept of soulmates almost seemed like an old wives' tale.

Logan glanced at their faces. When he realized they were serious, a deep laugh escaped from his gut. There was a lack of light in his eyes that admitted his insincerity.

"So I disappear for a few decades and you all start believing in fairytales?" Logan pulled the needles from his arm, the heart rate monitor going flat as he did. "What a bunch of bullshit."

Jean laid her hand against his chest, urging him back into the seat.

"Logan." She soothed him. "This is a good thing. Scott and I-"

Oh this was real rich.

"Scott and you are... what, huh?" Logan urged. "Soulmates?"

Logan scoffed, swiping Jean's hand from his chest.

"Bet you're so happy with your 'soulmate' and that's why you lead me on, huh? That it? You're happy?" He taunted, a dark laugh escaping him once more. "Spare me-"

"Logan, that's enough!"

The professor's voice echoed against the linoleum walls of the lab, reverberating off of the medical equipment throughout.

"If you want to wallow in your own self-deprivation, be my guest, but spare the rest of us your grief." Charles continued. "I think it would be best if you go back to your quarters and consider the future the universe has offered you."

The energy in the air was thick.

Jean and Hank avoided Logan’s eye contact while the professor’s nearly burned a whole through him.

Accepting defeat, Logan threw his hands up in the air and pushed himself out of his metal chair.

“Fine.”

Soulmates. Logan thought. Who would believe in a thing like that?

-

"It's a pleasure to see you again."

The atmosphere in the mansion was a stark contrast to the lab Charles had been in days before.

Now the school day had commenced: children skipping from class to class, students chatting with their friends in the hallway, teachers grabbing coffee between lessons. Amidst the organized chaos, Charles had arranged to meet you in the foyer: the replacement history teacher for Logan's class.

"You too, professor." You smiled, reaching out your hand. "I was so glad to hear from you."

Your hand hung in the air briefly, awaiting his return. Charles examined it for a moment- a twinkle in his eye- before taking it. His thumbs brushed against the newfound scars between your knuckles as he did.

"Correct me if I'm wrong, but you didn't always have these scars, did you, Y/n?" Charles asked.

You had not.

You had woken with them a few days before. Despite your powers rooted in chaos magic, it wasn't uncommon for blemishes or wounds to etch themselves into your skin. However, you often knew why. These marks, scars, were not faint, but instead quite profound. Three thick, healed over wounds patched together like a stitch on the back of each of your hands.

"No professor."

He closed his eyes, a soft smile gracing his lips. Though you knew he wished to ask more questions, the moment was broken by Logan.

"Ah, the man himself." Charles beamed. "Logan, I'd like you to meet Y/n. She'll be covering your class."

You had seen your fair share of news stories about the Wolverine. Who hadn't? Though the television had never prepared you for just how tall, or broad he was.

"It's nice to meet you, Logan."

"You too." He nodded, taking your hand.

His hand lingered in yours for a moment. Charles cleared his throat.

"We were just discussing the most peculiar scar on Y/n's hand." Charles said. "Appeared just a few days ago out of nowhere."

Charles nodded his head in the direction of your hand, leading Logan to squint. As if a light bulb had gone off over his head, Logan glanced between Charles and yourself and with your hand still in his, he turned it examine the back.

Three scars between your knuckles. Right where his own claws would be.

Though he liked to imagine himself as the patron of remaining suave, Logan's eyebrows shot up at the recognition. He traced his view from your hands, up your torso, to your face where you eyed him questioningly.

He thought back to the way that he woke up in the seventies, wrapped in the arms of another woman. If times had been different and Logan hadn't undergone all the so-called character development in the last forty years, he was sure that a face like yours would have gotten him in a lot of trouble. You were beautiful, and your demeanor highlighted your strength.

Your face radiated kindness, warmth and most of all, sincerity- a trait that was difficult to come by in a trade such as his.

But then Logan recalled that this wasn't the seventies and you weren't at some bar leading him on the entire night: your hand was in his and, according to everyone else, he was yours.

The idea almost couldn't register in Logan's brain.

"Interesting, isn't it, Logan?" Charles asked, breaking the silence. "Almost identical to where your claws are, hmm?"

Oh the professor thought he was quite funny.

Logan pulled his hand back from your grasp and shook his head.

"Not that easy, Charles." Logan commented before turning to you, a spiteful tone in his voice. "See you around, bub."

Before you had the chance to open your mouth, you watched as Logan stomped down the nearest hallway, his boots squeaking against the floorboards as he did. His fists clenched and released at his sides as he disappeared from view.

His reaction had come so far from left field that if it hadn't given you whiplash, it would have hurt your ego. Instead you turned back to the professor.

"Was it something I said?" You asked.

The professor shook his head, patting your hand gently.

"Logan's quite a complicated man." He assured you. "I'm sure you'll come to know that more than the rest of us. Now, to your classroom..."

Glancing over your shoulder to the void-like hallway that Logan went down, you considered the professor's words.

-

A storm had taken over the mansion by nightfall.

As you padded down the wood panelled hallways, the lightbulbs shook in their glass with each thunder clap- wind swatting at the window panes every few seconds. The pitter patter of the raindrops, although harsh, was comforting. It was almost as if the mansion had been engulfed by the storm, trapping everyone inside, while consequently making the outside world feel a thousand miles away.

When you found Logan's door, tucked in at the end of the hallway, you knocked.

"Yep."

The weight of the door fell against the palm of your hands as you pushed it open.

Logan's room was dark. The only light in the space had been from the embers of the cigar that hung in his mouth, cradled between his thumb and forefinger. Despite the darkness, you could make out his figure sitting at his desk chair by the window, feet kicked up on the sill.

Logan only gave you a quick glance over his shoulder before turning back to the view.

"What d'you want?"

His voice was thick and rough around the edges.

"I came for your textbooks." You replied, tiptoeing against his floorboards. "The professor said you'd have them."

The hand of his that held the cigar waved around. Minuscule ashes fell to the floor as your eyes remained trained on the light and the faint glow of the moon that illuminated the side of his face.

"Be my guest," he said. "Don’t have a clue where they are."

The professor had given you the lowdown when he saw your scars.

Charles told you that despite everything that you had learned- the history that you had known- the Wolverine you'd meet was not the same person. He was a man from a different time with far different, darker memories and enough baggage to weigh down dozens.

Amidst the silence, you cleared your throat.

"Must be hard to wake up in someone else's life."

By now you had reached his desk, your fingertips tracing the lines in the dark, lacquered wood.

You could smell him and the cigar from this distance- aftershave mixed with smoke.

"The professor tell you that?"

"Mhm."

The chair creaked as Logan flicked his hand towards the window, ushering you to come closer.

Watching your step in the dark, you maneuvered around the furniture and sat beside Logan on his desk- pushing loose papers to the side.

"He give you his whole spiel on soulmates too?" He asked, eyes trained on the rain outside.

Soulmates.

Now that was the last thing you expected to come from the Wolverine's mouth.

You'd heard of them more times than you could count. You once wondered whether every repetitive coincidence was a sign that your person was coming. But, when that never happened, you lost hope.

Who got to tell you who you belonged to anyway?

Leaning over, you gingerly took the cigar from his grasp and replaced it with your own fingers. Sitting back into the desk as lightening struck a tree in the distance, you took a puff.

"So that's what the scars on my hands were all about," You thought aloud.

The window fogged as you let the smoke leave from your mouth in a breathy sigh.

Logan tapped his fingers on his thighs, counting the seconds between a lightening strike and its consecutive rumble of thunder.

"Listen, I'm no prince charming if that's what you came here looking for."

Logan's chair creaked again as he leaned back in his seat. His arm draped against the desk as he met your gaze.

You chuckled and held out his cigar, offering it back to him.

"I came here looking for textbooks." You laughed. "You're the one who keeps talking about soulmates. I think you're more of a romantic than you let on.”

His fingers brushed against yours as he took the cigar back into his own hand. Another lightning strike met the ground in the distance, a clap of thunder following moments afterwards.

"You don't buy it?" Logan quirked his eyebrow. It was a teasing question, one he was curious to hear your answer to.

You shrugged.

"I don't think the universe gets to tell me who to love," you said. "If I fall in love with you it's because I love you, Logan. Not because some mark told me to. I just think of it as... a little shove in the right direction.”

The corner of his mouth quirked into a smile for the first time.

"A shove?"

"Like a... blind date." You finished. "Ever been on one of those?"

A congested laugh escaped him.

"Sweetheart, do I look like the type of guy to go on a blind date?"

You bit the inside of your cheek at the name.

Rolling your eyes, you swatted at his arm. You wouldn't admit how much it hurt your knuckles to do so. You'd have to make a mental note to remember his adamantium skeleton.

"Gosh, you're cocky!"

Logan shrugged, "You're the one who likes it apparently."

You felt yourself grow hot at his accusation.

Even though he had a mark signalling his future affection for you, you couldn't help but feel embarrassed by Logan's knowledge of yours. You felt like a child who's crush had just been exposed to the whole class. Was he noting ever glance that you gave him? The way you didn't move when his arm brushed against yours?

A brief pause hung in the air until another thunder clap reverberated against the walls.

"So what's your mark?" You asked.

Logan shoved the cigar into the corner of his mouth. The biting motion forced him to flex his jaw in a way that you would refuse to admit made you start to realize that maybe the universe was right.

And that maybe his cockiness was justified.

He laid out his hands for you. The room was still dark, making the ability to discern the details of his scar impossible. Taking Logan's hands in yours, you summoned your magic into your hands, watching as they glowed gold.

Logan had two large, circular scars imprinted into his palms. It was a clear indicator of your own magical power that surged from your hands.

It left a feeling you couldn't describe in your chest to know that someone else was marked for you. They were destined for you. To be with you. You had a future written together before the two of you had met. Even if he rejected you, there was a sign etched into his skin that bound the two of you together in some fateful way.

Gently, you traced your fingertips against the mark, feeling the warmth that radiated from his palms.

When your eyes flicked upwards, you noticed how close the two of you were now sitting. You could feel his warm breath against your lips as the lingering smell of the cigar drifted up your nose.

Although he wouldn’t admit it, Logan was enchanted by the energy radiating from you. Whether people hated or loved him, his ability got a lot of talk. In his mind though, he would never be a hero. He was just some guy who got lucky.

You, though? He didn’t need you to tell him that you were an Omega level mutant. Logan had heard about you from the professor: you could cast spells, read minds, reconfigure reality- to name a few. You didn't need a reason to fight for what's right, you just did. Again, and again, and again. Even here, now, you were picking up Logan's history class when he knew very well you could be on the other side of the world sipping pina coladas if you wanted.

What the hell was the universe thinking putting you with him?

Logan admired the reflection of the magic on your cheeks and the way your eyes stayed trained on his palms. Your touch was so gentle he could have sworn he was in a distant dream until your eyes met his.

The two of you stared at each other for a moment, gaze locked.

Then another clap of thunder shook the mansion.

You quickly leaned back, pulling your hands from Logan's touch.

"I should... I should go." You said, pushing yourself off of Logan's desk. "It's getting late and I have my first class in the morning."

Logan leaned back in his seat. He said nothing but eyes remained fixed on your form as you made your way towards the door.

Looking back at him with your hand on the knob you made a mental note to remember the image of him with his feet kicked back on the window as he smoked his cigar.

A soft smile remained.

"Good night, Logan."

When you didn't leave immediately, he nodded.

"Night, sweetheart."

Mustering up the courage to shoot him one last smile, you pulled open the door and stepped outside.

Now, Logan didn't know how much he believed in soulmates, but he could be inclined to consider that it was one good wingman.

Leaning back in his seat, Logan sighed and closed his eyes, letting himself drown out his worries with the sound of the rain.

a/n: my inbox is open for more requests! thank you for the request @welcometochilis585

[allfortheslay25]

Sorry to that one person who asked about more Milo in my inbox. The ask disappeared and has yet to come back after the draft refused to post so I’ll be posting it just like this.

Hopefully you see it🙏

I should probably mention I wrote this chapter years ago but only adjusted some things at the beginning of the year before January

Milo Future Spoilers

There was nothing like the humidity of South Carolina; damp, sweltering, and mouth drying.

Neil smacked his lips and wiped sweat off the back of his neck. No, nothing like it.

The press of something freezing was soothing for a split second before it was alerting. Neil flinched away from the cold glass bottle Andrew pushed against his neck before taking it.

"Thanks."

Andrew squatted next to him, picking under his armbands to collect the sweat building up under them. Neil stared because Neil liked this pair. A shade of white with the thinnest pair of double orange stripes down the inner forearm. Andrew didn't wear them for much. It didn't go with the silver and gold tone of his uniform nor the black of his wardrobe. He hadn't really put them on since Allison gifted them to him back in 2012.

Andrew took Neil's soda from him after watching the man do little to open the damn thing. He popped off the cap, licking the back before pressing it to Neil's forehead.

Neil quirked up a smile. "It's fresh."

Andrew just turned away with his own drink half done.

"Where the fuck is Nicky? It's boiling out here!" Allison shouted from where she was handing out drinks.

Aaron flicked cooler water at Matt when the man attempted to steal the last lemonade. "Probably got sidetracked talking about Germany again. He acts as if we haven't been caught up with him in the last week."

Kevin rattled the doors like a madman. "Let me in.

We're right here, let me in!"

It would have been hilarious, enough to bring smiles and teasing from the old Foxes. But recently, with Kevin's publicized relapse and his alleged divorce from Thea, well, no one was laughing at Kevin these days.

The outer court walls had seen better days too.

The orange paint had faded to a yellow hue, chipped and dusty with tagging unwashed at the corners. Neil knew the Palmetto Foxes had been on a fortunate rise and he knew sometime after his leave did it begin to fall apart. Wymack bit off more than he could chew, they said. Too many scandals, too many suicides and murders, too many delinquents being allowed on a court. But Neil supposes they did well enough to keep those doors open another year.

Neil's drink was promptly swiped from his hands, the culprit? His son, Milo.

"If you're not gonna drink it at least don't let it go hot."

Neil squinted up at the boy. He did that standing too. Milo had hit puberty and outgrew Neil sometime between 12 and 13, but then the growing never stopped. He stood now, at an even 6ft with no chance of finishing his growth spurt.

Lanky and awkward teenage limbs, freckled and messy haired, Milo somehow stopped looking like Neil. Everyone always says his baby face is nostalgic to first year Neil Josten, but if you put the pictures side by side, Milo always had something Neil didn't. There was a sharpness to him, something he couldn't hide better than Neil.

"Kevin, stop playing with the doors, you'll break them." Renee chastised. It was a miracle to have her here with them in the flesh at all. She spent most of their reunions on video chat with low internet. "I'm sure Coach will be here soon with the keys."

Milo, soda long finished, turned to Kevin with an otter pop between his teeth. "Does it bother you that much?" He mumbled.

Kevin let go of the doors with reluctance. "No... I just... I want to see it already."

Milo hummed around his treat before standing and marching over to the doors. He hip checked Kevin—an eerie sight as they stood head to head in height—and pulled something from his pocket.

Milo fiddled with the fence and it sprung open.

The Old Foxes stared in disbelief.

"You had the keys the whole time? Milo!" Dan said.

Milo shrugged, displaying a paperclip and a hairpin. He shoved the fence out the way and marched on to the doors he'd need a code for. As Milo fooled around with it, the Foxes all turned to Neil with faces of amusement and exasperation.

"He's your son alright." They said.

"Little Josten."

"Little Monster." They all cooed.

"That's 'Little Minyard-Josten' to you." Milo announced before punching a button on the door.

It beeped and clicked and Milo turned the handle to allow everyone inside.

"How did you know the code!?" Kevin wondered.

"They just had a baby, no?" Milo pointed out. "It's always been someone's birthday."

The foyer was almost the same as they'd all last seen it. Orange benches were set here and there, and the floor was white tile with orange paw prints. Orange cones were stacked in a corner, three deep and six high. A white door was on the wall to their right, and an orange door was opposite them. Only difference was there was a crack in the wall no one patched up, and the white tiles had muddled down to a moppy grey.

Milo moved past it to the gear closet. As the Old Foxes looked around and chatted about memories a decade old, Milo had suited up and stolen a racquet.

"Should we let him keep doing that?" Allison muttered to the rest.

"Leave him be, this is the most excited we've seen him since before the B R E A K U P call." Dan whispered.

"You know he can spell faster than us, right?"

Aaron whispered back.

"And you know you're a bad whisperer, right?"

Matt countered.

"Cousins!" Anything Aaron was about to say was cut off by Nicky's loud arrival. He raced towards Aaron and Andrew, bringing them into tight squeezes despite the twos wriggling.

Neil smiled because it'd been three years since Andrew had told Nicky he could hug him without asking. Andrew sometimes snapped that he was sick of it, but Andrew had also told Neil years ago that he didn't do regret.

Nicky let out a sharp gasp from his position in hugging Neil. He all but shoved the man into Matt before springing himself onto Milo. "My baby nephew! You've gotten so big! Last time I saw you you were definitely a head shorter! What are they feeding you? Is it Kevin's diet?"

Milo smiled and hugged Nicky as hard as he could despite the pads. "A mix of junk food and Kevin's dietary plan I only follow when I'm bored."

Kevin sent him a glare for that but went back to finding proper gear without a word.

"How did any of you get inside?" Wymack wondered gruffly. Standing in the flesh, was their beloved coach who hadn't seemed to age a day in their eyes. The only thing new was the baby attached to his chest.

Everyone flooded his space in an instant, cooing and awing at the little infant with orange bows in her curly hair. It was a shame Kevin had to be the one to tell them Wymack and Abby were having a baby. He was too excited to remember they wanted to surprise everyone. Sarah was adopted by them as soon as she'd been born, the baby of a previous Fox who didn't want children. None of them knew her from anything other than the tabloids that printed her face everywhere on Exy news the week after her discharge from the hospital. She dropped out of Palmetto soon after and was in the wind before Wymack and Abby could say goodbye.

"Okay you animals, get your diseased faces out of my baby's face. And Kevin, get your face out that closet and hug me dammit."

Kevin paused from where he was pulling a pair of gloves out of the gear closet to sheepishly shuffle over to his father.

"Where's Abby?" Kevin asked as he smiled at

Sarah's squinty face.

"Napping. She wanted to come by but I told her we'd be here all day and she can stop by when she's had at least an hour of sleep." Wymack said.

He tossed the court keys at Neil who used them to unlock all of the doors inside.

Before anyone finished dressing, Jeremy Knox and Jean Moreau knocked on the locker room doors. This reunion was special, a chance for Jean to see Renee, and Jeremy to see Kevin in an act of support in these dire times.

Having so many professional exy stars in one room felt charged in a way. Kevin seemed ready to cream his pants, or so Andrew commented.

Jeremy looked good in orange and Jean looked like he'd rather do the scrimmage naked. But Neil only had eyes for Andrew whose old uniform stretched on him like a wet dream.

"Can you even play like that?" Aaron smirked, silently laughing at Andrew's predicament. Aaron hadn't been on his college grind in so long, he'd lost muscle mass but gained a healthy weight that his uniform fit almost perfectly.

Andrew silently knocked Aaron on the shoulder with his racquet and clicked his tongue at the weight of it. Neil understood the feeling. Their old racquets were like feathers, Neil wasn't sure he could play with something so lightweight.

Milo was setting up cones and baskets of exy balls with cheerfulness. He was running around the court with a giddiness that rubbed off onto everyone else.

"Don't forget to stretch," Kevin reminded him.

Milo turned and threw his body into a bridge position before resting into a handstand.

"Show off." Kevin grumbled as Jeremy laughed.

Milo properly stretched afterward, first to finish as he picked up the basket of exy balls.

"I wanna show you something. Miss Renee, may you take the goal for me?" Milo asked.

“My pleasure,” Renee said with a smile. She gave Andrew a friendly pat on the shoulder and took her place in the goal.

“We don’t have all day, Milo.” Kevin complained.

“Let him do what he wants, it’s his first game playing with us.” Dan said.

“My first game playing with you guys was actually in the morning of July 14th, 2006. It was my ‘Unbirthday’ as uncle Nicky put it and Matt knocked me onto my back.” Milo said as he got into position.

“You can’t count that as a real game.” Kevin said.

Milo smiled over his shoulder, one of the ones that made the Foxes refer to him as ‘Little Monster’ at times. “Shut up, Day, and watch this.”

He looked back at Renee who nodded at him and got into position. The stance was loose but almost as sturdy as it’d been all those years ago. Milo took up a ball and tossed it to her lightly, allowing her to hit it back far enough he’d have to chase it down the court. And Milo did. He didn’t want to see where it was headed. With bullet-like speed he took off, throwing himself from the wall, flying down the court before anyone could do much as turn their heads. The ball hit a far wall and came back. Milo jumped, snatching it from the air and landing on his left foot before propelling himself forward. He made light work of the cones and within 10 steps, scored on Renee. Neil didn’t know why but when Milo had taken the ball, he waited for a pass to someone who wasn’t there. It itched at his brain in a familiarity he couldn’t place.

Andrew narrowed his eyes before his mouth quirked into one of his amused expressions.

“What?” Neil wondered a little too loud.

“He’s just doing the most for no reason.” Kevin interrupted.

“He just mimicked Neil’s exact play his first time at a Fox match.” Andrew corrected.

Everyone turned to him in confusion.

Neil looked back, running it through his head but that game had been so long ago he didn’t remember.

Dan's eyes lit up, though. “He passed to me. Neil, you did that same jump thing your first game—back when Seth was taken off and you made your debut. You passed to me because someone was on your ass.”

“There’s no way. We can’t even remember it clearly. No one can say for sure.” Allison said.

Andrew tapped his temple. “I can. Memory like a steel trap, I never took my eyes off him. I’m the one who passed the ball to Neil.”

“It’s a fluke.” Kevin said.

Milo whistled at them to get everyone’s attention. “I’m not finished.” He tossed another ball to Renee. “I’ll call it for you this time; Seth Gordon 2006.” Milo changed the grip on his racquet, hands lower as his fingers gesture higher. He straightened his back and ran a few seconds after the ball flew, watching it with his eyes and racing at a slower yet more desperate pace. Once he’d caught it, he whipped it over his shoulder with such speed and strength, it nearly clipped Renee on the shoulder.

“There’s no way to guarantee that.” Kevin hissed.

Milo tossed another ball and cocked his head at Kevin. “Really? Let’s get more famous. Let’s see…” Milo tapped the button of his racquet against the floor and passed his stick to his left hand and the movement was so specific, Jean and the Foxes straightened in disbelief. “Kevin Day, 2007.” Milo called, once again changing his posture. The ball went and Milo moved, catching it and weaving around cones with such single mindedness it was breathtaking. Renee was serious now as she waited, eager to stop Milo but incapable of accomplishing it. The ball whistled past her ear and the Foxes roared in incredulous excitement.

“Join me, will you, Mister Knox?” Milo asked.

Jeremy smirked and followed onto the court. He attempted to take up a backliner position but Milo moved him into the striker mark. He passed a ball to Jeremy and motioned for him to continue. The Foxes readied for whatever trick Milo held up his sleeve next. He moved his racquet back to his right and hunched his shoulders a bit in a way that left him open for injury. Jeremy moved to get past him and Milo hooked his foot around his and sent him stumbling. Milo then yanked his stick out of his unassuming hands with a simple twist, stealing the ball and sending it across the court to be slammed into the goal wall.

“Jean Moreau, 2005.” Milo said. Jeremy was on his ass behind him, clutching his wrist in surprise.

“That was a dirty move. I had so much faith in you.”

Milo gave him his racquet, using it to pull Jeremy to his feet. “You were expecting Jean-Yvves Moreau, 2009. But I like surprises.”

Jean frowned from his place by the Foxes. “That move is long dead. You can hurt someone with it.”

Milo held up Jeremy’s arm by the elbow, waving it at Jean. “He’s all in one piece. Now I’ve got something special for you all. Get on the court, Miss Renee, Drew, you may wait for my last demonstration off to the side.

As they all took their marks, not for a scrimmage but for shooting on the goal, Milo sauntered onto Renee’s place, tossing his racquet for hers. He spun it around and moved his hands before crouching and staring them down the court. Even with the helmet over his eyes, there was an intensity that boiled the cool air into something claustrophobic to the group. No one had to guess who Milo was mimicking now, but he still called out to them.

“Andrew Minyard, 2016.”

Neil got first dibs as he was the first to line up. He moved past Nicky and shot at the goal with a ferocity he saved for real matches. The deafening crack that boomed through the space as Milo’s racquet connected with the ball made everyone flinch in their spots. The ball sailed through the air like a jet before smacking into the other goal.

“There’s no way you did that!” Nicky screamed.

“That’s Andrew’s move. Do you know how many goalies have attempted to replicate that and succeeded?” Kevin shouted. “Eight! Only six have accomplished it in all exy history!”

“Seven, counting me.” Milo said, tossing the racquet over his shoulder. “But if I’m truly honest, I wouldn’t be able to do it again as accurately. Especially during an intense game. I’ve practiced your moves since I could hold a racquet and I've mastered your techniques in less years than you’ve all been playing. But Drew’s moves are special.”

Kevin was still staring at the ball across the court. “We need that tape. Get us that tape. You’ll need to show it to recruiters—”

“Slow down, Kevin.” Jeremy said.

“You’re turning red.” Jean said.

Kevin seemed close to fainting. When he’d had some water and Wymack promised to send him the security tape, they all got their chance to shoot on Milo who didn’t allow a single one through. After the showboating, they played a real scrimmage. Whoever won got to play with Milo next and even as Kevin lost thrice in a row, he never stopped his giddy chatter about the places Milo would go and the changes he’d bring to the sport.

[valtsv]

Hi Mr Loveless, how does one make friends and hold onto them? I have so many friends who I call friends but they don't seem to remember I exist unless I am in their faces, in their inbox, it's never them approaching me.

Do I have to always be a bother to be acknowledged? Am I missing whatever it is that makes everyone accept zero interactions between friends for months as normal? Am I wrong to expect minimal effort from friends, like they imply, that they're not obligated to do it and it's insensitive of me to feel upset about being forgotten? That's not how it is for those who my friends call Their friends. It's not like I have different politics or can't understand their discourse either.

I'll be 25 next week, my friends are all too busy or haven't checked in in weeks or even replied more than an emoji. I'm frankly worried there's something wrong with me I'm never going to be remotely a priority to anyone but my family.

i've been where you are, and trust me when i say that i know how soul-crushingly lonely it feels when you wonder if you'll ever be the most important person in anyone's life, but here's the thing: that's insecurity, and it never goes away, but it's also not a true reflection of your reality. even the most joined-at-the-hip lifelong friends (or family, or lovers) won't be each other's top priority 24/7 for their whole entire lives - and that's a good thing! that level of commitment is a demanding, exhausting, and frankly nightmarish. there will be times when you are the centre of your friends' worlds and they're yours, and you'll feel like you've never understood someone and been understood in turn so perfectly. and there'll be times when you're on totally different pages; perhaps you won't speak at all for weeks, months, or even years. you might speak for the last time one day without knowing it. you might spend the rest of your lives in each other's orbit. the future will always be uncertain, and borrowing grief will never change that.

that's the bigger picture, however, and probably not particularly helpful to your immediate situation. i can sympathise with feeling like you're always the one initiating contact and never the one being sought out, and i know exactly how unwanted and unappreciated that can make you feel. it's worth keeping in mind that if your friends are receptive to you reaching out to them, however (even if only in the form of a very basic expression of acknowledgement like an emoji), then they probably do genuinely appreciate and enjoy your friendship. it's entirely possible that they're just currently in situations where they have less energy and time to devote to considering that you might not have anyone checking in on you the way that you do for them. unless they're all psychically linked, it's highly unlikely they know that you don't have anyone doing the same for you.

the only advice i can offer you is suggesting that you try to communicate that you'd appreciate more of their attention. perhaps the next time you reach out (if you haven't tried this already), mention that it's been a while since you last really talked, and that you'd love to get together and properly catch up sometime. ideally propose a way for you to connect, either virtually or in real life - feel free to encourage them to set the date, which will subtly hint that you want them to be involved in the process, and make it more of a mutual effort. be on the lookout for opportunities to connect over mutual interests, such as group watching (or listening to, or reading) media you both enjoy, or an event you can both attend, or virtual platforms with an interactive element like multiplayer video games. there's only so much you can do, and it shouldn't be entirely your responsibility to maintain a relationship, but it always helps to try expressing your desire for your feelings to be noticed and reciprocated before listening to the insecurity devil.

[reiderwriter]

Please Accept My Apology

Pairing: Spencer Reid x Reader

Summary: After three days spent trying to convince the BAU that they had made a mistake, Spencer Reid shows up at your door to offer his apology.

Warnings: enemies to lovers, smut 18+ minors dni, slight age gap, penetrative sex, squirting, fingering, dirty talk, name calling, degradation, hints of bdsm, implied creampie etc.

You can find my masterlist here and my 2024 song fic challenge here (don't forget to send song recommendations to my inbox!)

You never thought you'd ever see the inside of an interrogation room before this week. Now you didn't think you'd ever see the outside of it.

“Y/N, you're brother ran from law enforcement multiple times, if you know where he is you need to tell us or you'll be charged with accessory to murder and kidnapping after the fact. Is that what you want?”

“Of course it isn't what I want, but I already told you I can't fucking help you!”

You paced in the boxed room, feeling closed in and hot.

Your brother - your innocent brother - was the key suspect in a series of child abductions and murders, and as he'd ran from law enforcement multiple times, they'd dragged you into the police precinct to try to track him down.

For the last three days, you'd been stuck sitting at that table across from Doctor Spencer Reid, waiting for the worst news of your life, because you knew it was coming.

“He's not a murderer. He's mentally ill, but he wouldn't hurt anyone. I keep telling you that, why won't you believe me?”

“A lot of loved ones protest a suspect's innocence, right down to the last second.” You couldn't help the laugh that bubbled up from the depth of your chest.

“My brother is schizophrenic. He was violent before, sure, he had outbursts. But he has been monitoring his meds for the last three years perfectly. He has a job, he has a son. He would not hurt those kids.”

You had always looked up to your elder brother, even through the tough years.

He'd inherited both your fathers drinking problem and your mother's mental illness, each demon feeding the other until he had a breakdown at age 19.

You were only 17 yourself, but with no one else to hold him accountable, you'd been there. You'd checked him into a facility, you drove him to each of his doctor's appointments when he was clean. You'd been around for each sober anniversary, for each birthday and holiday and celebration that he'd made it one more year without falling into himself.

He'd reciprocated by being the most reliable man you knew. He helped put you through college when he was stable enough, he'd managed to work his way up in the ranks at his construction job. He had a beautiful wife (currently in another interrogation room with another agent) and the cutest little boy.

He'd promised you that your family struggles would end with the two of you. You'd promised each other to take care of each others families if anything happened to them in the future, and while you currently had no family to speak of, you sure as hell were going to make sure that your nephew never wanted for anything in his life.

Your brother wasn't a murderer, and you had proof enough.

“You know, you haven't asked me yet why I think he's innocent.” You took your seat again, and gathered your hands together on the table, leaning in closer to the agent in front of you.

You watched him think for a second, then mirror your pose, leaning in just as close, eyes locked with yours.

You'd talked about a lot of things these past three days, and you got the idea that he was a bit of a jackass. If not a jackass, then at least big-headed; he'd practically shouted his title of Doctor at you as he'd walked in, and made sure to correct you every time you'd called him agent or sir.

You kept doing it just to piss him off eventually.

“It's denial, Miss Y/L/N. You don't want to see the signs you'd ignored for that lingered, so you beg and protest and plead, hoping that eventually you'll turn out to be correct.” His voice was low, but you caught every word.

“While I am sure you know what you're talking about Agent Reid, that is not why I'm here still. I'm not being charged with a crime, and I've been here much longer than 24 hours. I'm free to go at any point, but I'm sticking around here, lawyer free, because I want to watch your face when you realise you'd been wrong this entire time.”

He shifted uncomfortably and you smiled, happy to get under his skin once again.

“Okay, Miss Y/L/N. What makes you so sure your brother is innocent?”

“Your profile.” His eyes slightly widened at that, and you basked in it, leaning back and waiting for him to take the bait as the tide turned in your conversation.

“We profiled that our unsub would be late 20s to early 30s, probably a family man who'd likely been abused as a child. The profile also suggested he may have had a psychotic break recently, likely as a result of coming off his meds. Your brother fits the profile, Y/N.”

He'd dug his own grave, and you were happy to see him getting ready to sleep in it too.

“No, he doesn't, Agent.”

A tense silence passed between you, and you knew his gaze was fixed on you. You let your eyes dart elsewhere, rolling down his body to his hands. They were totally still of course, but you could see how tense he was by the way he pushed them flat against the table, almost as if he were trying to ground himself, finding reassurance in the pressure.

“How does he not fit the profile?” His brows were knitted together, and his expression was one of annoyance now.

No matter how much you had shouted or let out your frustrations these past few days, he'd kept a placid look of sympathy plastered across his features. He hadn't listened, or even suggested he'd wanted to, assuming your brother was guilty.

Now he was annoyed, as if he had the right.

“Despite what your records supposedly tell you, my brother is not off his meds.”

“Miss Y/L/N, we know that your brother did not refill his prescription three months ago, and that he looked into some clinical trials in the metropolitan area and was rejected.”

“Congratulations for having 50% of the facts. My brother wasn't rejected from those trials, he withdrew because they changed the terms. They wanted to study my nephew as well to see if they could predict where hereditary cases of Schizophrenia would manifest.”

You leaned in again now, enjoying watching the thoughts rush through Spencer Reid's head once again.

“His health insurance had some issues after the withdrawal, so his prescription couldn't be filled until next week, but my brother always had six months of pills delivered.”

You watched the realisation come crashing down on the agent in front of you, though he was doing a good job of keeping himself out together.

It was time to end this conversation.

“To take part in the clinical trial, he needed to stop taking his regular medication for two weeks. Meaning he has two more weeks of his regular medication. I watched him take it Monday morning, right about when your second kidnapping occurred. My sister-in-law will confirm.”

He stood from his chair slowly and nodded at you, making his way to the door.

“And Agent Reid?” You said making sure to hold his attention one last time before he could leave. “If anything happens to my brother, I will hold you responsible.”

He slipped from the room without another word, and you relaxed into the chair, letting your eyes fall shut as you waited patiently.

Xxx

It was another week before your brother was totally cleared. He'd turned himself into law enforcement the same day you'd forced the BAU to reevaluate their profile, and both he and his wife had cracked up your story.

With nothing else to distract them, you'd been happily informed that they'd caught the actual perpetrator, and saved another victim.

You were back at home now, trying to relax, to get back on track.

You knew by the knock on the door that you weren't going to get back to your normal routine just yet.

“Agent Reid, I wasn't expecting you.” He was there at your door, and you had to brush off a wave of annoyance, forcing yourself not to slam the thing in his goddamn face.

“It's Doctor Reid. You know that, though.” He mumbled the words, jaw tense as he heaved out a sigh, trying to get to his point but being distracted by your prickly words.

“I came to talk. May I come inside?”

“We talked for three days straight, Doc. What else could we possibly need to discuss?” You made sure to block the door with your body, one arm resting on the doorframe as you leant across it, the other holding the door tightly next to you.

You thought he'd get the idea, tuck his tail between his legs, and swiftly leave you alone, but you were sadly mistaken.

Instead his eyes raked over your body as you put it on display, curiously exploring every inch you put in his eyeline.

“May I come in?” He repeated, eyes still trailing down your body. If it weren't for the heat building inside of you, you'd have slammed the door in his face. A moment's hesitation was all you got instead, as he locked eyes with you again, and you reluctantly moved an inch to the side.

You stayed there in the doorway even as he entered, his body brushing against yours almost intimately for the second, his hand faintly tracing over your hip as he stepped inside, watching you all the time.

Needing desperately to gain your composure back, you jumped into asking questions. “You're in now. What do you want?”

“I wanted to apologise.” He hadn't moved far into the apartment, and you realised aa soon as you turned away from locking the door, overestimating his distance. You spun right into his arms, one of his palms coming to your waist to steady you as the other steadied the two of you against the wall.

“And whatever would the wonderful Doctor Reid need to apologise for?”

Your words were venomous, but the heat in them rose from somewhere deeper than the acid in your stomach, somewhere more fiery than the burning sensation at the back of your throat.

“I'm trying to do the right thing here, Y/N.”

“After a week of doing the wrong thing, Spencer, I'm not sure you're fully capable of that.”

His brows furrowed as he pouted, and you hated his proximity, both too close and too far at the same time. You wanted to run him apart, and then delicately sew him back together.

“I was doing my job.”

“You almost got my brother killed.”

“I'm sorry.” He heaved out an exasperated breath with the words, body relaxing and pushing your back fully against the wall. His eyes widened, and you could tell that he hadn't meant to move you in that way, but you just stared at him still, eyes flicking down to his lips with every intrusive thought.

This was how close you needed him.

“I don't give a shit if you're sorry.” You meant the words to be harsh a warning, but you hadn't realised your heartbeat bursting from your throat, your breathy gasps for air making it sound more erotic than angry.

He blinked once, then twice, slowly as if he was a scientist observing an experiment, not wanting to take his eyes off of it until he was certain something wouldn't happen.

“You're enjoying this.”

“I'm not.”

“Your heart rate is at 127 bpm, your pupils are dilated, your breathing is shallow. You're enjoying this. Why?”

His hands didn't let up, even as he shot out his words, brows furrowing further as you resisted the urge to push him away.

It was more comfortable keeping him close.

“I told you I am not enjoying this. You're just too close.”

“So, you're having a physical reaction to me?” He asked, almost quizzically. You had expected to hear a triumphant smirk or something in his voice, but he seemed genuinely curious.

“For God's sake, Spencer, yes. Yes, you're close and it's making me uncomfortable. You spent three days making me feel uncomfortable, and now you've come back for round two, are you happy now?”

“You're not uncomfortable,” he shot out again, almost as if he couldn't stop the words from spilling out. “You're aroused.”

“Know it all.” He laughed at that, and you could feel the heat in your cheeks. You weren't sure what the hell was going on with your body, because you'd spent the week despising the man in front of you, but now a simple hand on your wrist and a laugh had you blushing like a schoolgirl.

“So what if I am aroused? You're touching me, you have me pinned against the wall, really this is your fault, Agent.”

“It's Doctor, but you can call me Spencer. Or you can go back to another colourful insult if you'd prefer?”

“You're pretty full of yourself, I thought you came to apologise.”

“I did, it's not exactly me that is acting like they want to be filled right now though.”

“Jackass,” you snapped, as he lowered his hand around to cup your ass, finally allowing himself a tiny hint at the smirk you'd predicted earlier.

You gasped as he took a handful of your ass and pulled you flush against him.

“I want to say sorry, I want to make it up to you. I'm being quite charitable here.”

“Charity, my dear Doctor, is where you give something and expect nothing in return. It seems like you want something in return.” You spat the words again but you let your hands press lightly against his chest, waiting for him to make the next move as you played with the buttons of his shirt.

“I'd be more than happy to do that, too.”

You weren't sure who reached for who, or which one of you made the first push, but you were suddenly joined together by your lips, each of you battling furiously for dominance.

Your hands pushed up desperately, clawing into his long, busy strands and pulling him down further into you as you worked against him.

He was still stronger than you though, so when he forced your head back an inch, you moved out of necessity.

“Is that enough, or should I keep apologising?”

“Nowhere near enough, jacka-” he cut you off by pushing the tip of his thumb into your mouth, using one of his legs to spread yours so he could nuzzle himself between them.

“Why so quiet now? We couldn't shut you up in those interrogation rooms, but now you're so polite and obedient.” You moaned around his thumb as he stroked your tongue, encouraging you to suck it.

You didn't need much instruction, desperate now to show off your superior skills to the man in front of you.

“That's it, show me how much you want it, my little whore.”

His hand slipped into your pants quietly, but you twitched as his hands feathered their way along your pelvic bone, twitching at the sensitivity of the connection.

His hands slipped into your panties and you knew immediately it was over for you. You were so wet, and he was going to be able to tell just how much you apparently wanted him.

You moaned as he roughly pushed your pants down, finger teasing your cunt through your panties as you still struggled to suck his thumb so you didn't make any louder noises.

“You're enjoying this.” It was no longer a question, but a confident statement, no curiosity but simple satisfaction at how good he was making you feel.

He pulled his thumb from your mouth, rubbing some saliva across your lips to make them shine before he turned you around and pushed you up against the wall. Your hands barely pushed out in from of you before your chest collided with the wall, and he was close behind you.

As he coaxed your panties down your legs, you closed your eyes and tried to keep your breathing steady, desperately clinging to some high ground where you could find it.

His fingers were hot and long, and they quickly found your clit and got to work as he ground his hard cock against your bare ass.

His pants were still on, but you could feel the outline of his dick against you, hips rutting back into him with each flick of his wrist.

“Now, come on Y/N. You said it's not charity if I receive something in return, right?” He whispered into your ear as you tried to reach behind you to grab his dick.

“We're going to take this nice and slow, and you're going to enjoy all of it.”

His fingers slowed to an aching pace as he finally pushed a first digit inside of you. His hips finished moving and his free hand held you still too, so the only friction was coming from that one hand between your legs, practically edging you.

“Fuck me, just fuck me Spencer.” You moaned in frustration.

“Doctor.” He whispered in your ear, the glee in his voice igniting your hatred of him all over again.

“What?” You spat out.

“Call me Doctor Reid, and I'll give you anything you want. You want to cum, right?”

His fingers kept their slow pace, and you could feel yourself growing more impatient, even as you grit your teeth together.

“Fuck me, Doctor Reid.”

“What about please?”

“Fuck you.” You instantly regretted your words when he pulled his hands off your body completely, retreating further into your house.

“No, shit, wait.-”

You scrambled after him as he took a seat on your couch, removing his jacket and loosening his already dishevelled tie.

“What do you want, Y/N?” He asked, palming himself through his pants as he watched you practically fall at his feet, needing his hands back on you.

“I want you to f-fuck me, please Doctor Reid.” He nodded slightly, pulling your remaining clothing off as he responded.

“That's a good little slut.” He led your hand over his cock and let you undo the buttons and pull him out. You needed no other instructions as he leaned back and pulled your legs into a firmer position.

You gave his cock a few strokes before lifting your hips and sinking back down onto him.

“So fucking wet for me, you were so aroused, baby.”

He didn't let you control the pace, but held your hips still just above him as he began pushing into you from below, lifting his hips to fill you up with each thrust.

You couldn't bite back the screams as his balls slapped against you, Spencer trying his best to fit his entire length into you with each deep thrust. You wanted to kill the man only an hour earlier, and now you were sure you wanted to have him inside you like this forever.

“Oh fuck, just like that, just like that Spencer please!”

Your hand drifted down to your cunt and you're began to rub feverishly, even as you felt the pressure build up from your gut.

The pressure was almost unbearable and before you knew it you were squirting on his cock, fingers splashing wave after wave of your arousal over his cock and clothes.

“Already squirting for me? I thought you didn't want anything to do with me, Y/N. I guess you are just a little whore.”

You twitched, but couldn't respond, as he began thrusting sloppier than ever before, grunting in your ear as he finally joined you in your mess.

His grip on your hip slipped as he finally started cumning, and you moaned feeling him so deep as he gathered you in his arms and pulled you chest to chest.

You sat there panting together for an eternity before you even thought about detangling your limbs from one another.

“You made a mess of my fucking sofa.” You said as you finally rose up slightly, looking down at the mess beneath you.

“No, Y/N, that was you. I simply helped.”

“Jackass.”

“Whore.”

You gasped as he laughed at you again, pulling your hips back down over his so you couldn't slide off his cock again.

“Don't act so scandalised when I can feel just how much that turned you on. You're enjoying this.”

You pouted a little, but let your head fall back against his chest.

“And what if I am, Agent Reid?”

[hazydusks]

ask game for fanfic writers! 18+ / nsfw questions below the cut.

feel free to tag others to join and participate! if you're mentioning anyone in your responses, make sure to check their dni / byf criteria first.

thanks to @/dotcie and their ask game for inspiring this one!

__φ(．．) : do you have any writing goals this year? for instance, is there anything you want to try out or experiment with?

(´｡• ᵕ •｡`) : talk about the fic that you enjoyed writing the most! and don't forget to link it in your response if it's published!

o( ❛ᴗ❛ )o : is there a trope / au you'd like to write more for?

(☆ω☆) : what's the word count of your longest fic to date? how long did it take to write that fic, and would you write another piece of that length (or longer)?

(*¯︶¯*) : is there an author that you wish would receive more attention? tell us their url, and rave about them!

(๑˘︶˘๑) : do you write with or without music playing in the background? if you do, which artists / songs do you recommend?

o(≧▽≦)o : which fandom(s) are you most involved in? which character(s) have you written the most for?

(ノ*°▽°*) : how do you go about characterization? any advice on how you go about character analysis and interpretation is appreciated!

(☆_@) : have you experienced imposter syndrome? if so, write down 3-5 things you enjoy and admire in your own writing!

Σ(°△°|||) : what's the sweetest inbox message you've received from a reader?

(ノωヽ) : what do you use to write – paper and pen? in your notes app? gdocs or ellipsus? directly in your tumblr drafts?

(っ˘ω˘ς ) : go through the reblogs on this ask game, find a new author that you haven't come across before (make sure to check their dni / byf criteria!), and read one of their fics – highly encouraged to leave comments, tags, and reblog their fic!

(°ロ°) ! : how do you get in the mood for writing? do you intentionally set time aside on your calendar or rely on sheer bursts of motivation and hyperfixation? do you have any pre-writing rituals?

(｡•̀ᴗ-)✧ : what makes you immediately fall in love with a fic?

〜(＞＜)〜 : share one of your nsfw fics, and explain the inspiration behind it!

(＃￣ω￣) : what's your biggest struggle when it comes to writing smut?

☆⌒(>。) : what are you like when you're writing smut? are you turned on or contemplating very seriously? do you have a pokerface, or are you a flustered mess?

┐(￣∀￣)┌ : what are 1-3 kinks that never fail to arouse you? what are some that you wish were used more in fics?

ヾ(。＞＜)シ : have you ever written smut in front of others? if not, would you write smut in public for $10? assume that if someone paid attention, they would be able to catch glimpses of your screen / notebook / etc.

(□_□) : any advice on how to describe sex positions without explicitly using terms / names?

(◎ ◎)ゞ : have you ever masturbated to a fic before? and if you have... share the goods... if you'd like...

(づ◡﹏◡)づ : can you write porn without plot, or is plot a necessity? and more generally, if you do write porn with plot, how do you balance the two?

(_ _)> : what do you think are characteristics of a great smut scene / fic? conversely, what might ruin a smut scene / fic for you?

(=`ω´=) : drop a nsfw fic that you read recently. make sure to include any relevant warnings!

[waterparksdrama]

I think it’s really important that we hold everyone accountable. I was in their circle but I need to stay anon - please read this. Mel is Jewel’s best friend. They’ve known each other for years and Mel met Jawn through Jewel. They used to ALL hook up. Geoff knows about this btw. They ALL knew about it. Daphne found out that Jawn lied to her about Jewel and him and she lost it back in 2019/2020. They all turned on Daphne immediately; Mel lied to Daphne - who found out later on that Mel was also a fuck buddy too - to stay in the Waterparks circle and be *popular*. Mel flipped out on the friend group one time at a concert for “showing off as a fan” because “it’s embarrassing and Awsten hates it”. That same group is now defending Mel out of fear. They gaslit Daphne in to being crazy to protect their own egos and they are terrified of Awsten of finding out so they can still get guest list and invited to things. Unfortunately, a lot is coming to light and they’re throwing anyone and everyone under the bus. It’s been overdue for years now.

They’re not good people - everyone that is friends and protect Jawn are NOT. There has always been a reason why Awsten never affiliated with this group nor supported the others relationships. Awsten is aware.

This needs to be known. All parties should be held accountable. Again - Jewel, Geoff’s GF, is MEL’s BEST FRIEND - it’s on all social platforms and their IG for proof!! Put the pieces together and do yourselves all a favor - stop giving these people attention.

so. this has been sitting in our inbox for just a few hours now, and with the information it detailed we REALLY wanted to check our sources with this one. we also didn't want to post this without knowing if daphne had okay'd this information being shared. that being said, i have had a conversation with daphne today that has confirmed all this information here to be true. daphne has given me permission to share these messages and get details out there.

the first message of this was her responding to me letting her know that we received this anon, for context. her first messages to me were letting me know that someone previously involved with this blog may have been geoff's now girlfriend, jewel. previous admins of this blog no longer have access, and haven't had it for awhile since me, iz and blue took over.

here is the confirmation from daphne that every detail of this anon is true, as well as more information regarding jewel and geoff's involvement.

and for the record, here is daphne's confirmation that we were allowed to share this post as well as her messages to me.

more info on jewel, name is crossed out since it's the name she thought was the alias jewel was using while possibly on here, which i have since cleared up with her since i personally know the admin she believed it was.

and further info after i asked if awsten knew anything of this. just for clarity. there is also confirmation that jewel is the reason behind geoff and chloe breaking up.

if we receive anything further, it will be updated here as long as daphne is allowing us to share this. and i want to state at the end of this that all of us here are sending so much love and support to daphne through this time, no matter what. it has been made clear to her how much we support and respect her.

-kirsten

[astermath]

hiya! i’m a really big fan of your stranger things work and I was wondering, if youre comfortable of course, a steve x reader period imagine where reader tried to hide their period from Steve, but he finds out and is super fluffy and sweet about it? thank you!

HAHAH wow i have let this ask stew in my inbox since last year thats CRAZY im so sorry my dear,, i was going through old asks and i rlly like this prompt actually so here u go, i hope u enjoy!!!!

pairing: steve harrington x fem!reader

tags: established relationship, obv mentions of periods / menstruation, reader is referred to as female, steve being dense at first lol, regular sized font below!

wc: 1.4K

notes: while the reader in this fic is female, i am well aware not everyone who has a period is a girl, and not everyone who's a girl has a period!

Steve is one attentive boyfriend.

It’s the early stages of your relationship, the golden era, the honeymoon phase. And while you’re a still a bit nervous about it all, you couldn’t be happier, because he does it all right.

He knows your favourite snacks, what music you like, what makes you laugh, what makes you cry. He’s starting to figure out your ins and outs, and it’s almost crazy how quickly he’s catching on. You have no reason to feel judged by him at any point, he truly is comfort poured into the shape of a person.

So then why are you staring at your phone right now, struggling to dial his number and just tell him why you can’t make it to your date?

It’s not usually this bad, at least it hadn’t been for a while, so why now, of all moments, must you be forsaken to be terrorised by your period?

You bite your lip, laying flat onto your bed, hand over your lower stomach. It's right where the pain is just gnawing at you, just like the guilt is. But you know you’d feel even guiltier if you just stood him up, he doesn’t deserve that. You sit up, a tad slowly to save yourself from another cramp, and swallow your nerves for now.

“I’ll just… Tell him I’m sick. Yeah… Yeah I can do that.” You think to yourself.

The combination of his number had started to feel natural to your fingers now, unlike how anxiously you pressed the buttons the first time, triple checking before finally pressing call. You're triple checking again now, more so because you're not sure you can handle hearing the defeat in his voice when you tell him you can't make it.

The phone barely gets a moment to ring before he picks it up, and his all too familiar sweet voice comes through the device.

"Hey babe, everything okay over there?"

You pause a moment before replying. "How did you know it was me calling?"

"Lover's intuition." He chuckles, and it makes your heart flutter. It's not fair how easy it is for him to do that to you, but you enjoy it nonetheless. "So, what's going on?"

"I, uh..." God, getting the words out is like pulling teeth. But you'd rather die than let him think you just got cold feet about your movie date. "I'm really not feeling too well right now, Steve... I'm-- I'm so sorry, I'm gonna have to cancel for tonight." Your eyes are welling up with tears before he even gets a chance to reply, just imagining his pretty face losing its bright expression when hearing your unfortunate news.

"Oh," damnit, he does sound sad, "that's okay, uhm... Is there anything I can do? What kinda sick is it?"

Shit, he's gonna make you say it, isn't he? You know Steve is a mature guy, he knows about periods, knows how they work, but you've been told to suck it up and get on with it before... A part of you is still disappointed that you just can't.

"U-Uhm... It's more like, a stomach thing, I guess?" It's the best way you can put it for now, hoping it'll put his worries to rest.

"Okay, I see..." You can nearly hear him thinking, the subtle noise of bags being moved and a fridge being opened coming through the phone. "Uh, how aboouuut... I come over to yours, and we just watch a movie at home? I still got a couple of tapes we haven't gotten to, and I can bring some light snacks that won't upset your stomach too much."

The thought of Steve caring for you while you're sick sends a warm feeling through your entire body. God, how does he just keep getting better? But you can't lie to him, right? It's not like you're really sick, unless you count the curse of menstruation as a symptom.

Before you get a chance to explain, he's talking again, and by the ruckus in the background you can only guess he's rushing to grab all his stuff. "I'll be heading out in a bit, I'll stop by the corner store too, stay put for me alright? See ya in a bit!"

You're sure he didn't realize he wasn't letting you talk, but frankly, you probably couldn't even come up with a response on time anyways. Right now, you just have to worry about looking somewhat presentable, and maybe figure out a way to tell him you're not actually sick.

By the time you've brushed your hair and brushed some mascara onto your lashes, you're already hearing the doorbell. You just manage to pull a fresh shirt over your head, before stumbling down the stairs and stopping in front of the door. With a deep, loaded, sigh you open it, to reveal your boyfriend.

Hair messed up, plastic bag in hand, jacket haphazardly thrown on. He clearly rushed to be here, still panting a little, but in your eyes, he's the image of your guardian angel, your saviour in need.

Before either of you know it, you're crying again, your freshly applied mascara now leaving thin black streaks over your cheeks. Your hands go up to cover your face, embarrassed, not even sure why you're sobbing all of a sudden. The feelings just hit you like a freight train, rocking you before you even have a time to rationalize.

Steve's expression falters, the bag he had in hand dropping to the floor in an instant, stepping in closer so he can carefully wrap his arms around you and pull you to his chest. Not too tight, he doesn't want to startle you. He's a bit distraught; he's really only seen you cry at a sad movie scene before, so he's a bit unsure as to what's caught you to be so upset right now.

"I-I'm sorry..." you manage to mutter through your incoherent sobs and sniffs, effectively ruining the front of his shirt in the process.

"Hey, hey..." His big hands go up to your face, gently cupping your wettened cheeks as he looks into your teary eyes. Hell, the image of you is almost enough to make him break too. "What're you sorry for? You can't help it that you're sick, right?"

The reminder of your lie makes you want to break eye contact in shame, but it's hard to force yourself to lose sight of that soft, caring gaze of his.

"I," sniff, "I lied, I'm so sorry Steve, I-- I'm not sick, I just... I have..."

He watches you expectedly, not upset, just curious. You'd surely have your reasons if whatever caused you to cancel is making you this upset.

"I'm... I'm just on my period and it-- it hurts really bad, it's not even usually this bad, and I felt like I was overreacting and I feel so bad and--" Your ramble gets cut short by his chuckle, the same one that nearly caused you to melt over the phone earlier.

"W-Wha... Why are you laughing?" You're not sure if you should be happy or worried, you're already experiencing so much at once, it's hard to pick one emotion to feel.

"Nothing, it's just, well," he picks up the bag he dropped, opening it slightly to show the bars of chocolate, candy and your favorite chips inside. "I had a feeling."

The sight of it makes you snap out of your state of distress, and you can’t help but crack a smile through your tears. “Seriously? How?”

He shrugs, a sheepish smile adorning his face. “I told you, lover’s intuition.” He pulls you back to him and kisses your head. “There’s another bag in the car with chicken soup in case I was wrong.”

You both laugh, just hugging on your doorstep for a moment. You have to let it sink in, that maybe Steve just is that sweet and considerate of a guy.

“D’you wanna go inside, or does standing outside help with cramps?” He pulls back a little, and you fight the urge to poke him in the ribs for his sarcasm. You love it either way.

“Yeah, let’s go inside. We can watch When Harry Met Sally and I can cry my eyes out again. Sound good?”

“Sounds perfect.”

-

-

-

-

-

-

[sweetbans29]

Back to You (6) - CC

Pairing: Caitlin Clark x Reader

Summary: It's time for the truth.

Warnings: hurt

Word Count: 2.7k

Previous

Sweetbans Masterlist

You do everything in your power to work from home and avoid leaving the confines of your house. Pretty much everything you are responsible for can be done anywhere and Ben has done a stellar job of getting everything you need so you don't need to come in.

After the game, Ben took a few days to send over everything you asked for. You didn't even notice because you didn't leave your bed for several days and allowed yourself to wilt away, almost into nothing. When you finally muster up the strength to get out of bed and shower, all you need is in your inbox.

You jump into work catching up on all the missed emails and projects needing your attention. When you pick up your phone for the first time it has been about a week since the incident and you see dozens of missed calls and texts. Most of them are from Caitlin, but there are some random ones from your staff and a couple from Kate.

You know you'll be talking to your staff later so you ignore those, then look at Kate's.

[K-Money: Hey babes, just checking in - I saw the clip of the game and wanted to make sure you are still in one piece. Love you 💙]

[K-Money: Caitlin called me, please call me back. I am worried about you]

[K-Money: Call me or I am showing up at your door.]

You go to Kate's contact and hit 'call', then close your eyes.

It rings twice before she picks up.

"I thought you were dead," she says and you don't even have the strength to laugh.

“I wish I was,” you whisper as you feel tears brimming your eyes before you can stop them.

You break down and Kate lets you. You tell her everything, even the things that you haven't said out loud before. Things like, how much you still love Caitlin and how it kills you each time you see her knowing she will never be yours again. Also how you hate the fact that you want her to be yours after everything she has put you through and how time hasn’t even begun to heal you.  How it kills you that you have no idea if she was ever really yours to begin with or if any of it was real. Because how could someone just up and end a relationship after 3 years and be okay enough to walk right into someone else’s arms without flinching. 

Kate listens to every word you say, just like she did with Caitlin a few days ago.

Once you are finished, Kate speaks.

"Please listen to me when I say this and I am saying this because I love and care for you," Kate says. "You need to actually talk to Caitlin."

"No-," you begin. But Kate cuts you off.

"Please, you deserve to know the whole truth, let her tell you it," Kate says and you can hear the desperation in her voice.”I know you want to be strong and move on, but I don’t think you can do that until you find some closure. Let her give you that and then you can decide.” 

You want to ask ‘decide what?’. How could you even think of possibly letting her back in? Was there even anything to let her into when she has already taken everything from you?

You change the subject to her upcoming game and eventually end the call.

You lay there for what feels like days before you look at your phone again and at all the messages Caitlin sent. You read 3 then scroll down to the bottom, starting a new message to her.

You retype your message 4 times before you settle on 'We need to talk’. It is simple and to the point and you don't think you can keep overthinking the message.

After sending the message, you try to do some work. There really is no use because Caitlin responds within minutes of your text. 

.[Clark: Just tell me where and when and I will be there]

You decide on Gainbridge, it really wasn’t your first choice but you needed a mutual ground where you could run if needed. The time you offered was also after hours, minimizing the possibility of anyone interrupting the two of you. When you showed up later that night you slightly regret choosing this as the meeting place - I mean the last time you were here you had kissed the girl you are meeting. 

Walking in, you head to the floor and go to stand in the middle of it. You love this place. You haven’t been there long, but there is something about Indy and their sports that has you all in for what happens in this building. You couldn’t imagine ever finding another place like this. 

Per usual, you don’t see or hear Caitlin enter. Ever since day 1 she has had the bad habit of sneaking up on you. Like she usually does, she takes a moment to watch you. She has fallen in love with the way you can just be in a space and not need anything from anyone. 

Cailtin walks up slowly, making sure to make some sound so as to not scare you again. She didn’t think that would be the best way to open this conversation. 

Once you hear her, you jump anyway. 

“Shit,” you say as you whip around to see her. “We need to get you a bell or something.” 

The comment comes out before you can stop it and Caitlin cracks a smile. 

“I’m sorry,” she says. “I was trying to avoid scaring you.” 

“Never were good at that,” you say with a little chuckle, trying to keep yourself from breaking down at the sight of her.

She gives a shrug and both of you can tell there is a nervousness that has settled between the two of you. Neither of you bring up your last encounter - that would not be a good place to start. 

“You wanted to talk?” Caitlin asks. You don’t say anything immediately and look at her. She is wearing a pair of Nike sweatpants and an old Indiana shirt. 

Caitlin wants to squirm under your stare. She always feels exposed when you look at her, like you can see every part of her. And you do, you were always able to read her like a book. 

“Why?” You ask, no context needed. 

Caitlin knew this was coming. She looks down at her hands, wishing your eyes weren't on her. 

She knew this was a long time coming. It would be one thing if you didn’t mean anything to her and the decision her manager made was one that didn’t affect Cait to the core. But you do - you always have meant the world to her and now she has the opportunity to tell you the truth. She prayed for times like this but now standing in front of you, she’s scared. She’s scared because once you know, there is nothing she can do to change your mind. Once you know the truth, the ball is out of her hands. 

“Because I was a coward,” she starts off. It’s the truth but not all encompassing. 

She was a coward. She feared so many things that she couldn’t begin to think of a positive outcome. Caitlin looks back at her decision and in short, that sums it up. But she knows it’s not the answer you are looking for. It is not the answer you deserve.

“It was what my manager at the time thought was best and I didn’t fight her,” Cait says. “She thought that I needed to show stability as I entered the draft and that was in the form of Conor.” 

“Please don’t say his name,” you say as your eyes close. If there was anyone you hated more than Cait from that night it was him. 

Your chest tightens, the only thing you are hearing is that you weren’t worth it. 

Caitlin looks down and she knows what she was about to say would hurt you, but she knows you deserve the whole truth. 

“It was easy with him, he didn’t crowd and I didn’t have to explain anything to anyone about who I was and I thought it was what was best for me. Until I had to end things with you,” her breath was shaky now and you could tell she was on the verge of tears. To say you cared could have been hit or miss. 

“That night proved my security wrong. I knew it would hurt but I knew I would heal, or at least I thought I would heal. But the healing never came. For months, whenever I closed my eyes, all I could see was your rage, your brokenness. It got so bad to the point where I wouldn’t sleep. That night was and is my biggest regret.” Cailtin says and she is finally looking at you. You, on the other hand, can’t bring yourself to look at her. 

“We never really had a chance,” you whisper. Cailtin had never given the two of you a fighting chance but you also didn’t fight for her to give you one in the first place. It wasn’t until this moment that you realized, you are not completely innocent - even if she is the one to have made the final decision. 

“Don’t say that,” she says, believing you guys did. 

“We didn’t though,” you bite back. “Nobody knew Caitlin, our whole relationship was built in secret, behind closed doors. No one knew anything and when no one knows such a vital part of who someone is, is that part even real?” 

“All of it was real!” She says, exploding for the first time. “Every single part of it was real. You were the most real thing in my life and I had to let that go - I had to let you go. I didn’t have a choice! Between the pressure from the media, my manager, my family - I didn’t have a place for me to be Caitlin except when I was with you, And then they wanted that and took that from me, leaving me even more confused about who I was. And the thing is, I was going to tell my parents, I was going to tell them everything going into the draft because I loved you so Goddamn much that there was no way those that claimed they loved me could not love you. And then I was forced into a relationship to please the world, without even being asked how it would affect me. And then I actually had to do it - cut you from my life without any explanation, any support. What made it worse is the timing.” 

Caitlin is crying at this point and so are you. 

“I know I can’t go back to that night, but if I could I would take it all back. I would tell you that I was ready to tell my parents and we would drive there right then and there. I would show you off to the world because you are the sole reason I am who I am.�� Cailtin says. 

This whole situation is fucked. 

“I still love you,’ she says in defeat. “I am still in love with you, have never stopped. And I know I made a mess of things - I probably set us up to fail in the first place, but I am not the same person I was before. I am not the coward who thought I could survive without you because I can’t. I cannot survive without you.”

She takes a deep inhale as if this is the first time she has been able to breathe since that night. 

“But I know you have had to learn to survive without me, I didn't give you a choice. You have healed and have moved on,” Caitlin can’t stop the tears from falling. “And I want to be happy for you, I really do - Kayla seems great.” Her words are forced. “I will be happy for you. You deserve to be happy.” 

You don’t know what it is, it could be the fact that there is a crying Caitlin in front of you or the fact that she just said she still loves you but you reach out to touch her. Your hands come to her shoulders and the second you do, she crumbles. You hold her as she shakes and lets everything she has been holding out. 

She still loves you.

You still love her. 

Is it really that simple? Can it truly be that simple? 

It can’t be, right? Because all you have thought about is the hurt - you haven’t taken any time to think back and remember what it was like to actually be with her. The moments when she was at the center of your world. 

Once Caitlin calms down, you compose your thoughts. 

“You’re right,” you say “I do deserve to be happy.” 

“But you are also wrong. I had to pick myself back up and keep going but I never healed. I thought I did, I truly believed that I had moved on from you and then I got a job here. I had to pick up my life and move it to the one place I did not want to be. And it wasn’t until coming here and seeing you that I realized, I am not healed. I have not healed. Because the second I saw you, I wanted to run back into your arms but I couldn’t and I hated myself for wanting to.” 

It is your turn to exhale. Your eyes close. 

“I love you Caitlin Clark,” you say. “I hate it, but I do. And I don’t know how to live without you and that infuriates me.” 

“Give me a chance,” she says, the table has flipped and now she is the one that has her hands on your shoulders. “Give me a chance to prove that things have changed. That I have changed.” 

You so desperately want to. It is one of the only things you have wanted but you don’t think you could survive if she walked out again. It would end you. 

But then why? Why did you choose to come here? Yes, it was for a job - your dream job but it wasn’t the only place offering. Maybe it was because deep down you knew you had to see her again. Even with the past you had, she was meant to be in your future. 

“If I lose you again, I don’t think I would survive,” you say just above a whisper. 

“You won’t,” she says as her hands now come up to cup your face. 

“You don’t know that,” you say, eyes still closed. You can’t look at her, looking at her makes this all real. 

“I do know that,” she says with such an assurance. “I know it because I will walk away from everything, all of it right now if it means I can begin to fix what I broke in you.” 

Are you an idiot for this? Are you an idiot for wanting to let her back in? Are you an idiot because you are actually about to let her?

Your eyes open and you look at her. Both of your eyes are red and puffy.

“You are not going to walk away from everything,” you say and Caitlin protests. 

“I will-,” she begins but you cut her off. 

“I won’t let you walk away from everything,” you say. “You would drive both of us crazy if you didn’t play.” 

You say it and you mean it. You have no idea how this is going to go but like she said, you deserve to be happy. And if there is anything you have learned without her, it is that you only ever truly learned what happiness looks like for you because of her. 

“Us?” She says, but it’s choked out. 

“Ya, us,” you say. “But I swear, if you even think of walking out again-” 

Caitlin slams you into her body as she wraps her arms around you. 

“Never,” she says and you believe her. 

AN: This series isn't my favorite but we are going to close it out strong, hopefully. Let em know what you think! And as always, thank you for your love and support 🤍

[thesovereignsring-if]

Major Update: To move forward is to take a step back.

Hello everyone, it's been a while. I hope you're all doing well. I'd ask that you read this to the end because some major changes will be in the upcoming update.

TLDR: You will need to start a new save file for new update (this weekend) otherwise there will be very noticable issues down the line.

I can't recall the last time I made a post or an update like this and frankly i'm scared to check . I've been struggling with writers block with the end of Chapter 1 and my small bouts of depression did not help one bit, so I had to take a step back and re-examine the narrative. If you ask me what the problem was, i'd say that perhaps I rushed too quickly into the main story, when I needed a little more foundation to stand on. After a few months of deliberation, a solution has been found. And I think everyone will like it. There will be no major rewrite of any sort, I think I would cry if that were the case.

Instead we going going to have a second prologue. This means that Chapter 1 will be inaccessible until the second prologue is complete. I'm very sorry that things have to be this way, but I do no see any other option for the story to continue forward in a satisfying way.

The second prologue will take place a few months after the first prologue during the Grand Festival of Eostre. This will be the first year you'll celebrate without your mother, at the very least you will have your friends and family with you at the time.

What to expect in the first half of Prologue 2:

Up to 13k words of new content.

Spend some time with your family.

Looooreeee & tea.

Meet Lior the Grand Cardinal of the Church of Eostre. The leading religion in Nibelheim.

Choose how to spend your free time at the festival in 2/4 possible routes. Route A: Alberich & Finny, Route B: Sieghardt & Thea.

(The last two routes will be added in the next update: Route C: Lynnette, Erik & Daria/Darius, and Route D: The Empress, King Lugh & Duchess Neaera)

Erik has a younger bastard half-sibling named Daria(f)/Darius(m). ( I will address them as Dara for short.) The final romantic interest, gender selectable. Even if you do not choose Route C, you will meet them later on in the second half of the update.

Fixes + Updates:

Character Creation has been updated and streamlined. (Gender/Pronouns and Sex are separate categories for both adult and child character creations. Attributes chosen during Child Character Creation will be stored as different variables in the event I choose to do anymore flashbacks later on in the story.)

Please note, that choosing after your sex (as an adult) I will assume your character will have the corresponding equipment down there.

Music Credits have been updated.

Minor adjustments to the colour of the UI, if people have any sort of colour theme they wish to see, I'll be more than happy to add them.

That is all for now. I hope the year has been kind to everyone so far. I haven't gone through my inbox yet, but I've seen glimpse of people's support it goes a long way. I sincerely do no think I'd come back if it weren't for the fact that I'd feel like I'd let everyone down. I will be making a patreon post after the first update goes live to talk about the new update and exclusives later.

Thank you for reading and enjoying TSR over the past year. It's means a lot to me and let's hope things will be better moving forward.

See you <3

Lili

[lemotmo]

Yeah take a break Tim

Q. Honesty hour. Do you think Tim is a good show runner?

A. As of this ask, no. I think he used to be a good show runner. I think he can still be a good show runner, but right now he is not. He is capable of being a very good show runner, but these past two seasons he has been abysmal. He cannot stay focused. He gets easily distracted by side characters and quests his audience doesn't care about and inexplicably stretches out storylines so he can play with those things. He seemingly gets bored as the season goes along and decides to throw out all of his storyboards and start from scratch, often in the middle of the storyline he's decided to scrap or change. I will say though that I don't think that's what happened with Peter. I do think something happened there that we're just not being made aware of. I think he reads too many of the good things people say about him and too many of the bad things people say about him. He's used these last two seasons to cosplay as a film director and his show has suffered as a result. He comes up with all of these grand story ideas but has no idea how to actually execute them within the show. And he's completely ruined storylines as a result, hello Eddie/Kim and Christopher. I know I've said it multiple times but the interview he gave immediately after episode 15 really was alarming. It was completely tone deaf and came across as someone completely detached from the actual show. He seems to genuinely not understand why his audience is watching this show. We don't want multiple big events every season. We don't want one disaster after another. We want storylines. We want character focus. And he seems completely uninterested in both of those things. He wants to do helicopter chases, and blow up science labs, and recreate classic disaster films. He wants to tell the Buddie story but also seems genuinely terrified of actually committing to telling it (although I do think that storyline is going to be a major storyline in season 9. ABC pretty much backed him into a corner there with the Upfronts, which I think they did intentionally).

I do get the impression that a conversation has at least taken place between Tim and ABC though. Tim is never this quiet and we've not heard from him at all since episode 16. He had a couple of quotes following episode 17 but we've had nothing from him since. He's not even being passive aggressive on Facebook. He's not talking at all. And he's never done that before. So that makes me believe that ABC was aware there was a problem and they've addressed it. He just needs to be reined in. No more changing direction halfway through the season. It's bitten them in the ass two seasons in a row.

Thank you Nonny! Much appreciated as always!🤗

Okay, so...

YES YES YES and YES to all of this. I talked about all of this before in some of my own posts. The man needs supervision. Someone needs to keep him in check and tell him to follow the schedule. Someone has to tell him that recreating another classic movie or spending 5 episodes on a non main character is NOT a good idea for 911.

I agree with Ali that it's very strange that we haven't heard from Tim yet after the season ended. If I'm not mistaken he did a post season interview after the season finale last year. Now it's crickets.

So hopefully ABC actually sat him down at some point after the 8x14-8x16 fiasco and told him how it's going to be from now on going into season 9. 🤞

Heads up! For anyone who is giving me the shifty eyes for reposting Ali's updates instead of reblogging. Read this.

Remember, no hate in comments, reblogs or inboxes. Let's keep it civil and respectful. Thank you.

If you are interested in more of Ali’s posts, you can find all of her posts so far under the tag: anonymous blog I love.

[dragonfly0808]

Hiatus

So… this is a post I’ve been debating with myself these past 2/3 weeks on whether to make or not.

Some of yall may have noticed that I’ve been taking quite a few breaks from s4 and I have unfortunately just finally allowed myself to acknowledge that I’ve hit a bit of a writing block when it comes to my Winx Club rewrite.

I’ve had a few frustrations during s4 (even though I’ve managed to keep my writing up to my own personal standards, it’s been very difficult) and- despite being halfway through the season, unlike past seasons I still have no idea what I’m going to do with s5 and it’s just been getting to me.

And now I am forced to accept that if I keep forcing myself to churn out chapters and stressing out over keeping you all waiting until I’m satisfied with every chapter, the only thing I’ll do is kill my creativity and my love for this rewrite.

I’ve been working on this rewrite for nearly 3 years and it kinda low-key shames me to say that I am officially placing it on hiatus.

To me ‘taking a break’ and ‘hiatus’ are 2 completely different things, I know I’ve taken breaks before but I always had some vague idea of when I’d return but this time… I just don’t know.

I have been working on my Original Novel and works for other fandoms that have just been filling me with inspiration in a way I haven't been able to feel with Winx Club for a bit now.

I hope I have built up enough trust over these past 3 years for you all to believe me when I say that I will be back. I am not the type to leave things unfinished, especially a story that means so much to me and that I am so very proud of and that has helped me grow so much as a writer and has helped me get through some difficult times and express certain emotions and grief in a way I never could’ve if I hadn’t dived into this 3 long years ago.

I was really hoping to post chapters for Xmas and New Years as I have past years but I just can’t- HOWEVER, on January 28th, the third anniversary of Veiled Wings and Shattered Panoramas, I will post… something. I don’t know if it will be a chapter or not but I will do something for the anniversary.

If you wanna know what I’ll be up to; I will be working on my Original Novel since I have finally landed on exactly what idea I want to work on. I will also be working on 2 projects, one for ATLA (Zutara post-canon self-indulgent thingy) and another one that I honestly don’t know if I’ll go through with since it’d be a pretty big project and I’m still thinking about how I’d go about it, but that I am very inspired and excited about.

So yeah, thank you all for your never ending support and- again, I WILL BE BACK, this is not an abandonment of the rewrite, it’s just me having to prioritize my mental health and protect both my love for writing and my love for the rewrite. I’ll be going through my inbox this next week and answer a bunch of stuff that I just haven’t really looked through in a while.

Thank you so much for understanding and for your support. I hope you will wait for the return of the rewrite and that maybe you will give my other projects a chance when I post them. I will be posting a lot of my inner thoughts on the rewrite and my other projects chapters + thoughts on my Ko-fi if you wanna check that out.

I wish you all Happy Holidays!

With eternal love and gratitude,

Yours Truly, Dragonfly

[sundrop-writes]

"Don't frown - someone could be falling in love with your smile."

🛍️ go shopping!! - read through my main masterlist and my list of fandoms aka the list of characters that I write for

✏️ translate a secret code - check out my AO3 account and keep in mind, my fics are archive locked, so you will need an account to view them

📚 do some supernatural research - read through my rules for requesting and maybe make a request

📱 talk some gossip - read my FAQ if you have a question about sequels, past fandoms, or other things, or send me an ask about something that I haven't answered there

👻 howl with the pack - if you would like to be tagged in every single fic that I post, go here

💘 lead us to a dead body - submit a fic for me to read, leave comments on, and then reblog as a recommendation on this blog!

Hey everyone! I'm Sundrop, but you can call me Sunny. I am a fanfic writer, and this is my fanfiction sideblog where I post all of my newest fics, post fanfiction polls to help decide which fics I am going to work on, and post updates about upcoming fics. Right now, my main fandom is Teen Wolf. If you have requests for any of the characters or if you just wanna talk about your favs, then you should definitely drop by my inbox.

About me: I'm a 90s baby, my pronouns are she/her (but I don't mind being called dude or other masc nicknames), I am autistic, bisexual, and polyamarous (and those things often heavily inspire my writing). I am chronically ill; I have POTS, EDS, and some of my fics may go behind schedule or may be cancelled due to flare-ups of my illness, just so you guys are aware.

If you want to know more about me as a person, you can see more of my random fandom posts and personal posts on my main blog @tenpintsof-sundrop. This is not my main blog, this is just a sideblog I use to post fics and updates about my fanfiction writing process so people who are interested can stay in the loop.

Please do not follow me if you support using AI to generate fanfiction or fanart, or if you use c.ai. I have worked for many years to cultivate my writing talents and I think it is a huge insult to writers to do these things. If I find anything on your blog that is AI generated, I will block you.

Currently Working On: Chapter Two of So Much (for) Stardust

Coming Soon:

So Much (for) Stardust - Sequel to Why Am I The One? - Isaac Lahey x Fem!Reader. Exes to Lovers. Hurt and Comfort, Extreme Emotional Angst, Generation Teen Wolf Stuff, Smut, Happy Ending. Set during Season 3A. After a single vulnerable night, you are determined to get Isaac back. However, you aren't prepared for that mission to send you on a path that involves fighting off a rouge Alpha Pack, a demonic witch making human sacrifices, and Isaac's own deep insecurities trying to keep you away. You hate to say it, but you're wondering how the two of you are going to survive... (20,000 words est.)

Truth or Dare - Stiles Stilinski x Fem!Thick!Reader. Friends to Lovers. (Slight) Hurt and Comfort, Getting Together, Fluffy Ending. Set during Season 1. One night, when Scott and Stiles crash a sleepover that Allison is hosting with you and Lydia, Lydia insists that the boys stick around for a classic game of Truth or Dare. She dares you to kiss Stiles in front of everyone, and somehow, an embarrassing misunderstanding ends up turning into the best night of your life. (8,000 words est.)

Post Hiatus Fanfiction Schedule

Fics I Hope To Write In 2025

Most Recent Work: The Good, The Bad, and The Dirty - Sub!Isaac Lahey x Dom!Fem!Reader - SMUT

[charles-leclerc-official]

I have been thinking about this for a while, and it probably bears a far more in depth post. But I feel like this season of F1 we've seen a significant uptick in misinformation being spread specifically about driver quotes on social media.

There have been multiple instances of someone posting a graphic and it's a made up quote from a driver, they never said that, but it's a big enough page or it gets enough attention and people believe it.

The part were it's become a real problem is sometimes this belief of the false info bleeds back into the reporting on the sport. News outlets pick it up and end up asking the drivers about things they never said.

It's happened quite a few times with a few drivers and teams now. This is a greater issue with social media in general as well.

But the problem specifically about false quotes being spread is something we collectively need to be better at fact checking. I haven't been perfect here either.

I am tired of seeing incorrect quotes being spread (broadly on twitter, but that bleeds over onto other platforms as well) and by the time it's been questioned it's too late and enough people believe it.

It might be worth diving into this on a case by case basis. Obviously this issue is also tied with rage bait etc. If you have examples from this season please feel free to share(in the reblogs/comments/my inbox) I want to dive into this more.

Edit: For further clarification. I am talking about quotes that a driver NEVER SAID. Not things being taken out of context, that's another issue. But people have just completely made things up this year and then people believe it and drivers have been asked about things they never even said. That's what I mean here.

Things taken out of context is another issue/conversation.

[wings-of-ink]

Mini progress report, some ramblings and Patreon planning

Hello all! I just wanted to drop a note and check in. I haven't been around as much lately as I've had some busy things in my personal life going on (all good things, btw), and they've made me a bit sleepy. I have some asks baking in my inbox, but I will attend to them when I've got the energy saved up.

For now, I am still working on chapter 5 and she is a biggie. I do not know when the update will go through. I had hoped for October, but realistically it will probably be November. I'm giving myself some wiggle room since the season for me is shifting, and I often experience fatigue and some strong-sads when autumn/winter set in. I won't know for sure until it hits if I will be a sleepy mess or not, lol. Sometimes it doesn't hit until December.

Assuming I remain in good humor, I will be doing a lot of writing and testing in the coming days. Around this time last year is when I was finally writing the first chapter of GC. It really helped me get through the winter months, so I hope that this year will be much the same.

In fact, I found when I made the document for the outline and rough draft for the start of our story:

Between here and the very beginning of February 2024, I wrote the prologue and chapters 1 and 2 and then published them. This coming February, we should celebrate our 1 year anniversary, right?

Chapter 5 is coming along well. I've had a couple scenes that I want to go back over and refine since I either forgot something or they just didn't turn out the way I wanted. I have also written out an event that happens in chapter 7 which I am very (unreasonably) excited about. I could not help myself, it was burning a hole in my brain. It will, of course, develop a lot more after I have 5 & 6 actually done, but I can't wait until you get there.

Here is where Chapter 5 stands now:

This looks massive, but keep in mind there are two paths at the beginning of this chapter and each have unique events/consequences. Some of the text is shared here and there between them, and then they meet. This also includes code and such. I am at the mid-point of the chapter currently where there is a bit of downtime and the MC can get up to...a few things.

Such as this tease for a Duri-moment:

Just what are you two up to???

As for Patreon, if anyone is curious, I am still planning. The feedback I got from the poll along with messages and such have helped a lot. I am not sure when I will have things running since I am prioritizing the actual chapter writing while I've been busy with other things. Since my weekly schedule is going to be back to normal now, I can think about it more.

I have determined to take Patreon nice and slow. It will focus on just a few tiers to start (centered on only God-Cursed for the time being). From there, we'll grow things at a sustainable pace. Most were interested in extras (POVs & drabbles), so I will focus on those, early access, and spiciness. I had debated about starting this next year as opposed to, say, November or December. I may just shoot for whenever I have chapter 5 done. I feel like that's a good round place we can branch off from, and it will open up more flexibility in any bonus content I write.

I think that's all of what's been on my mind lately, and I've prattled too long as it is. I hope you are all safe and well!

Take care! ^_^

~ Lunan 🐦‍⬛