#i have things i like to read in fanfics but i wouldn't necessarily want to act them out

[cooliestghouliest]

PUTTY, chapter one

(chapter one), (chapter two), (chapter three)

PAIRING: virgin!Eddie/former cheerleader!Reader

SUMMARY: Eddie has a little brother. Eddie’s little brother has a babysitter.

SERIES TAGS and C/W’s: mutual pining, experienced!Reader, inexperienced!Eddie but he’s eager to learn, mostly sub!Eddie, insecurities and self doubt, narcissistic and/or absent parents, jealousy, mean basketball players, hurt/comfort, they smoke weed, eventual smut (18+ ONLY, MINORS DNI), uniform kink, dirty talk, foot jobs, hand jobs, oral (f!receiving and m!receiving), public sex, sex toys, unprotected PiV. more to be added as this progresses!!!

WORD COUNT: 3.7k+

A/N: hi, my friends!!! this is a rewrite/repost and has been edited for a (hopefully) smoother, more enjoyable read. fun fact that this was one of the first Stranger Things fanfics i ever wrote. it was originally titled She Was Straight From Hell, But You Could Never Tell, and featured Eddie alongside an OC. i’ve changed it to be reader-insert, because that seems to be more in my writing wheelhouse nowadays. this fic will be multiple parts — it begins with backstory, but will eventually branch off into a universe of little smutty ficlets where Reader will corrupt virgin!Eddie as much as humanely possible.

—

Eddie hadn't known about the existence of his little brother until two months ago, when Al Munson showed up in the middle of the night with a small child in tow. Eddie didn't even know his dad was out of prison again, and yet here he was, in the flesh, a little boy with a mop of black curls resembling Eddie's own cradled in his leather jacket-clad arms.

Al was lucky Wayne was working or else this family reunion would have gone south fast.

While Wayne wasn't Al's biggest fan, Al was Eddie's dad, and Eddie would always hold onto as many moments with his father as he could get, no matter how sparse, and no matter how much of a self-serving piece of shit asshole Al Munson truly was.

But Eddie didn’t see it like that. Eddie saw it like this: His dad lived a hard life. His dad struggled with addictions. His dad lost a wife, just as Eddie had lost a mother. His dad tried his best with what he had.

Deep down, Eddie knew these were all just sorry excuses, but he kept that truth tucked away, not wanting to deal with the reality that Al truly only cared about himself.

He already had one dead parent. If he cut his dad out of his life, he’d basically have two.

"When'd you get out?" Eddie asked, stepping aside so Al could enter. His eyes followed the child, brows furrowed. The trailer was always Al's first stop on his freedom tour and the older man had always brought some sort of baggage along with him -- never a little kid, though. What the hell kind of trouble had his dad gotten into this time?

"Few days ago," Al replied, heading for the living room. He placed the sleeping child down on the worn sofa, then straightened and faced Eddie. "Listen, son, you gotta do me a favor. I'm not out long this time. I might've robbed an ATM or two last night. I'm kinda on the lam."

Al didn’t even have the decency to look sheepish at his wrongdoing.

Eddie was used to this. Even when Al was a free man, he was never a free man for long. He didn't think his dad knew how to coexist among non-inmate citizens. Eddie didn't think his dad even wanted to. Prison was a creature comfort for the elder Munson. Eddie wasn't necessarily mad at that fact. He was happy when Al was locked up, because then at least he knew where his dad was. Otherwise, Eddie worried his father would eventually get himself into a situation he wouldn't be able to get out of, and Eddie would really never see him again.

Eddie was also used to Al showing up after months and months, sometimes even years and years, such as now, always asking for favors.

"Who is that?" Eddie asked, pointing towards the couch, not being able to ignore the other human in the room any longer.

"Yeah, that's kinda what I need your help with.” Al rubbed at the back of his neck. "Well, no way to do this other than to just say it. That there's your little brother, Eddie. His name's Oliver. And I need you and Wayne to look after him while I'm gone."

"My... what..." Eddie stammered, face scrunching up. He expected Al to burst out laughing and admit he was just fucking around, and that this tiny sleeping stranger was actually just the kid of a fellow convict buddy. Maybe it was said convict buddy’s turn to rob ATMs tonight, leaving Al the babysitter. Irresponsible. Unlikely. And, turns out, untrue.

With Al's silence, Eddie knew his dad’s admission wasn't a joke.

Eddie was beyond confused now.

"Dad, how... you've been in prison for six years!"

"Conjugal visits," Al answered with a bit of a smug shrug.

Eddie shook his head in disbelief. "What the fuck? Wayne can't afford another kid that's not even his... and I'm in school still, I can't watch him... this isn't... I don't know how..."

But Al was already making his way to the door.

"I know you'll figure it out. I can always count on you, my boy," Al prided, tone cheery as if the favor he'd just asked of Eddie was to give him a quick ride somewhere or find an old family recipe.

Al wasn't acting like he was ditching another Munson offspring off on his older brother. He was treating this like an issue of minor importance, just a little speed bump on an otherwise flat road.

Al Munson was not an upstanding person. Never had been, never would be. Because of this, Eddie shouldn't have been surprised or appalled, but here he was, standing with his mouth agape. Surprised. Appalled.

His dad was out the door with a lighthearted, "See ya 'round, son," and Eddie was left speechless in the middle of the living room.

𖤐 ֪ 𖤐 ֪ 𖤐

Wayne got over the new addition to the Munson household fairly quickly.

While he'd been livid at first, calling up all of Al's old friends he'd still had the numbers of to try and find out where his dumb shit of a younger brother was, Wayne eventually became resigned to the idea that he now had another little boy to rear and mold.

What else could he do?

Wayne took care of his kin, especially if they were innocent bystanders and had no say in being born in the first place. He'd raised Eddie, and although he knew the boy had his struggles, he didn't think he'd done too bad of a job.

Eddie never went hungry, always had clothes to wear, a bed to sleep in, and Wayne was the one who haggled Eddie's van down to a reasonable price so the boy could pay for it with his lunch box salary.

Wayne knew about the weed and the pills, but so long as Eddie stayed smart about where he was selling and who he was selling to, he didn't much mind Eddie's unconventional line of work. It helped his nephew stay somewhat social, and Wayne knew how important that would be for Eddie's future. If the boy was nothing but a lone recluse his whole life, he'd probably end up just like Al. Nobody wanted that.

Eddie was just about grown now. Sure, he was rearing twenty and still in his senior year of high school, but Wayne had an inkling that '86 would be Eddie's year.

Wayne had always thought about selling the trailer and buying an RV with retirement money once Eddie was out on his own. He wanted to travel the country for the remainder of his life.

The idea that he'd have to raise up another wild Munson for the next fifteen or so years caused a knot to form in his stomach.

Would Wayne even be around for that much longer? He may have been relatively healthy, and he was only in his mid 60's, but Wayne wasn't an idiot. He knew anything could happen at any time.

Wayne knew he needed help this time around. He figured he could count on Eddie here and there, but Eddie needed to focus on school this year if he planned on finally walking the stage. Because of this, Wayne decided to enlist the help of someone on the outside. Someone with experience.

So, he posted an ad in the Hawkins Post, looking for a full-time nanny for a five-year-old boy to start as soon as possible, and waited for a response.

𖤐 ֪ 𖤐 ֪ 𖤐

Wayne didn't have to wait long.

Two mornings following the job post, shortly after he'd returned home from work, he heard a knock on the trailer door.

When he answered, he saw a pretty young thing standing on the front stoop.

"Hi!" you greeted, then immediately began to ramble. "Are you Mr. Munson? I hope it's okay I just showed up... there wasn't a number listed, only an address, and I didn't know if you wanted me to write a response and mail it, but the ad seemed maybe a little urgent, so I thought, hey, what's the harm in just... showing... up..."

You trailed off, feeling silly for word vomiting during your first impression. He was watching you with a small smile, eyes flickering with what looked like amusement, especially as your cheeks began to color to the soft red of embarrassment.

Listing no number on the ad was intentional. He hadn't owned a rotary phone in about ten years, after having tried to cut back on bills, and he knew not just anyone would make the trek to Forest Hills for a potential job offer. He’d figured only committed applicants that wouldn't waste his time would follow through.

"I have a lot of experience," you continued on at his silence, almost as if you couldn't help it, compelled to divulge all the information you could in the first three minutes of meeting. Wayne found it endearing. "I used to babysit for three different families when I was in high school. And I have two little sisters. My mom and dad worked a lot growing up, so I spent a lot of time with them. Didn't get paid, but... I made sure they didn't die or anything..."

From their brief interaction thus far, Wayne knew he succeeded in his method of weeding out flakes. You were obviously serious about the position. He felt he was a decent judge of character, and he'd learned in life that sometimes over-explaining was synonymous with caring.

"Sorry," you said, forcing out a little laugh. "I guess I could have just introduced myself. You didn't really need to know all that." You shot your hand out, giving your name. "I'm here about the nannying gig. Um, obviously. That is, if I didn't already scare you off."

Wayne took your hand in both of his own, shaking it. He placated you with a grin. "It's a lot harder than that to scare off a Munson, sweetheart. Let's go inside and meet Olly."

𖤐 ֪ 𖤐 ֪ 𖤐

Although Oliver Munson was only five, he had a spectacular vocabulary and a limitless imagination. Wayne knew the boy was a little charmer, quite like how Eddie was when he allowed himself to be, when the teenager wasn't drowning himself in existential teenage angst and nonsense.

You fell under Olly's spell almost instantly.

And it seemed the little boy had fallen under yours as well.

Oliver didn't stop talking to you while you were there, and didn't stop talking about you after you’d left, asking when you’d be back and if next time you could take him to the trailer park's playground and maybe you two could watch G.I. Joe or He-Man together afterward.

Wayne had taken your number down before you’d left and had told you he'd be in touch soon.

Later that evening, after Eddie had gotten back from his club meeting at school, Wayne took the trip into downtown Hawkins to use the payphone and ask you if you wouldn't mind starting as early as tomorrow.

𖤐 ֪ 𖤐 ֪ 𖤐

You were far from struggling for money.

Your father was a sought-after criminal prosecutor for the entirety of Indiana. Your mother was a real estate agent for high profile clientele who came from old family money; her father was CEO of a day trading business, and his father before him had been the same.

Although you likely would have never had to work a day in your life and could live a comfortable existence off of inheritance alone, handouts and the humdrum of an All-Play-and-No-Work lifestyle was never a dream of yours. That sounded so cookie cutter, so monotonous, so boring.

You liked to feel a sense of accomplishment. You liked setting goals and reaching them. You didn't want to freeload off of money that was gained from the capitalistic professions your parents were a part of. You wanted to be in control of your own finances and be the author of your own future, not have it already be etched into stone simply by being just another rich kid from Hawkins, à la the likes of the Carver's or the Cunningham's or the Harrington's.

You were ecstatic when you got the call from Wayne, asking you if you’d be willing to start the following day. He left for work at 2PM, so you’d have to be there before then, and would need to plan on staying until Wayne's nephew got home around six.

If you were to be completely honest with yourself, you felt a bit nervous, but the job itself wasn't the reason why that writhing feeling accompanied your excitement.

You had more than ten years of babysitting experience under your belt, and you were eager to get back into a job you actually enjoyed as opposed to trying out different careers to see what stuck and what didn't. Having graduated the spring before, you’d been taking an off year to save up money by working odd jobs around Hawkins to be able to buy your own apartment.

You’d worked as a florist for a few weeks, but it turned out your thumb was pitch black instead of green.

You worked as the personal assistant for a group of lawyers from a local law firm, but it turned out they just needed office eye candy and not someone to actually get any sort of work done.

You worked as a veterinary assistant, but it turned out the job was much more than just petting cats and dogs. You couldn't handle it when a sick animal would come in and there would be nothing anyone could do. Your heart broke more at that clinic than it had your entire life.

You were in between jobs when you’d decided to peruse the classified section of the Hawkins post. There, in the shortest blurb on the page, was a listing for a needed nanny, a full-time position offering negotiable pay.

The next bit was where the excitement wavered.

The listing was published by a Wayne Munson of the Forest Hills trailer park.

That had to be Eddie Munson's uncle. There was no way there were two separate Munson families living in the only trailer park in Kerley County.

You couldn't believe that you’d stumbled across this ad, that the geeky metalhead you’d crushed on since your freshman year of high school had a little brother you could be the potential nanny of.

You were two years younger than Eddie, but that hadn't stopped you from losing periods of time to daydreams about the way the wind ruffled his wild mess of curls on breezy days or the way his band tee sleeves always clung perfectly to the soft muscles of his biceps or the way his cheeks dimpled when he teased the other boys he sat with at lunch.

You’d always wanted to introduce yourself, but you didn't run in the same crowds -- you being on the cheer team and Eddie blasting Black Sabbath in the parking lot after his Hellfire meetings. You could never muster the courage. He seemed so carefree, so full of life, so effortlessly funny. Chrissy Cunningham, your best friend, had spoken to him once or twice and had told you how different he was than what other people said about him. He wasn't scary or mean or threatening, and instead was warm and silly and genuine.

But you knew how the people you spent your time around treated people like him. You knew your group of "friends" referred to him as a freak, a Satan worshipper, and did everything in their power to try to bully him into becoming a shell of himself. Thankfully, he never did -- it was almost as if Eddie absorbed the hatefulness and spent it tenfold by mocking the hilarity of the jock hierarchy that ruled the school, as well as using it to strengthen his own ability to embrace every misfit that walked the halls of Hawkins High.

You never introduced yourself because you were afraid he’d think you had an ulterior motive, that you’d be trying to talk to him as a joke or a prank. You knew the company you kept. You were sure Jason Carver had once or twice suggested you do just that, lead Eddie on and make a fool of him in front of the whole school.

You figured it'd be best to just stay away.

But now, you thought finding this ad was possibly a sign from the universe.

Maybe you were getting a second chance.

𖤐 ֪ 𖤐 ֪ 𖤐

Eddie was running late.

He was supposed to be back home half an hour ago to relieve whoever Olly's new babysitter was of her duties, but the campaign had taken a shocking turn and Hellfire couldn't disband until it had commenced.

The night finally ended with Will's character decapitating Dustin's, and Eddie had to thwart an actual attack when Dustin leapt across the game table at Will in a bout of rage. Dustin was small but mighty, and Eddie had to physically wrestle the boy off of Will's neck, threatening to banish Dustin from the next few campaigns if he didn’t chill out. Henderson had huffed and puffed but had admitted defeat and apologized to Will for the attempted murder.

By the time Eddie arrived back to the trailer park, the sun had almost set. He pulled his van into his parking spot to the right of the trailer and shut it off. Stepping out, he swung his backpack over his shoulder, but came to a halt when he heard Olly's scream sound from behind the trailer.

Dropping his bag and beginning to run toward the noise, Eddie's heart fell to his stomach. Horrible images of what could possibly be pulling that sound from his little brother pervaded Eddie's mind. He had an overactive imagination to begin with, and something like this verbal cue only egged it on. "Olly!" he shouted, panic raising his voice. "Olly, are you okay?! What’s going on, where are --"

Eddie came to a halt when he found the boy in the backyard with a huge smile spread across his small, sweaty face. Olly had a fake crown on, one made of twigs and leaves, and he was carrying one of the biggest sticks Eddie had ever seen. He had a blanket tucked into the back of his shirt, the cloth a makeshift cape. A thin piece of metal, probably from one of the cars Wayne and Eddie sometimes worked on, was wrapped around his center, acting as armor.

Olly had just been playing.

Letting out a heavy breath of relief, Eddie noticed your frame just off to the side. His eyes started from the ground up, noting the shiny red Docs donning your feet, moving up bare legs that were covered mid-thigh by a short black skater dress, one that hugged your curves in a way that had Eddie’s mouth going dry.

By the time he reached your face, your eyes were wide with amusement.

You’d been watching as he slowly drank you in. He didn't mean to ogle. He had to shake his head a few times to clear it, and when he did so, the face before him started looking more and more familiar.

"Wait," he started, head tilting. He spoke your name, tone riddled with confusion. "From high school?"

You were about to answer when Oliver cleared his throat, obviously not wanting to be ignored or to have his playtime interrupted any longer. You looked down at the boy, who pointed up to his head at his crown. You got the gist -- Olly wanted the game to continue. You could indulge him. You’d been doing it all day, and honestly you’d been having the most fun you’d had in a while.

You turned your attention back to Eddie, fixing your posture and jutting your chin out slightly. "I don't know who that is," you began, voice lilting. "I am Princess Guinevere of Kerley County and this here,” you brought your gaze back down to Oliver, “is my most loyal servant, Sir Olly of Castle Munson."

Eddie couldn't help the grin that broke out over his face at your announcement. He then took a moment to fully take in the rest of your appearance. You, too, had on a makeshift crown, this one made up of cherry blossoms and daisies. You had a flowing blanket tucked into the back of your dress, cascading down your back like a veil.

No fucking way were you, last year's cheerleading captain and prom queen, standing in his backyard playing fucking knights and princesses with his little brother. No fucking way.

Olly broke the silence by shouting out, "Hey, Eddie! Who are you gonna be?"

Eddie tore his eyes from you to focus on his brother. He pursed his lips to one side in thought, trying to come up with a character. He was usually quick on his feet when it came to creative play, but he had just spent the last three hours DM'ing a month-long DnD campaign. His brain felt shot. He was pulled from his introspective reverie by your soft, suggestive voice — no, sorry — the soft, suggestive voice of Princess Guinevere.

"Wanna be my dragon, Eddie?" you asked.

Eddie wasn't exactly sure why that made his breath catch in his throat.

He nodded dumbly, silent, then forced himself to speak because he didn't want to look totally lame in front of a Princess. "Okay. Yeah, I'll be your dragon."

You graced him with a smile before Oliver's tiny but booming voice cut through the air of the darkening night. "HEY! Dragons don't talk!" the boy stomped his foot and hit his stick against the muddy ground in annoyance.

A laugh bubbled from your throat and Eddie grinned, jumping into a wide-legged stance before outstretching his arms, tilting his head back, and roaring.

[void-ink-studios]

Touch of Light

This is in the same timeline as "Wrath of the Wishmaster" which you can read here! Specifically, this is a bit before the events of that fic. They're not officially together yet, but they're getting close.

Do I have two other WIPs I should be working on? Yes. Will I write this instead? Also, yes.

Enjoy, y'all.

Word Count: 2,300

Scarab had gone missing again.

While Prismo was not the type to take much stock in what the beetle got up to in his spare time, the disappearing act he's been pulling lately is getting... concerning.

It wasn't as if it was a problem per say... Scarab lived here now too, and he had as much right to explore the space as Prismo did. Plus, it wasn't as if Scarab was necessarily required up in the main chamber all the time.

But Prismo was starting to miss the company.

Him and Scarab had seemed to finally strike up some kind of peace. He'd help the Wishmaster with his fanfics that needed a certain bloody zest, he'd talk of his adventures across the multiverse, and he'd been slowly teaching him his strange language of chirps, clicks, trills, and buzzing.

The Time Room just felt more alive ever since that blue shadow was added to the routine. And it felt like they both had finally gotten used to each other enough to just... be. Relax. Smile.

It'd been a long time since Prismo smiled in earnest.

But now Scarab was gone. Well, not gone, but it's not like Prismo knew where he was.

The disappearing was relatively new.

Once, every few weeks or so (maybe, time was always strange here), Scarab would open a hatch to the Time Room's basement, slink away, and vanish for the rest of the day (probably). He'd be back after a while and not acknowledge he was even gone.

It never exactly sat well with the Wishmaster. What's with the sneaking around? Was he hiding something?

Maybe he thought Prismo wouldn't notice?

That would make sense, considering how Scarab would always cast quick glances at him before slinking away. Like he was checking if Prismo was watching.

Prismo shut his laptop. He pondered for a second.

Should he try and go find Scarab? He wanted to give him the privacy he deserved but this whole thing was starting to freak him out.

A small part of him wondered if perhaps he was looking for a certain sleeping old man.

Prismo shook his head, scolding himself for even the thought.

They were friends now.

Hopefully.

Maybe...?

Hmm.

The more he thought, the more he freaked himself out. Maybe it wouldn't hurt to just take a quick peek.

He sent duplicates down into the basement, just to poke around, of course.

One stood guard over his old, sleeping body. Just in case.

He pondered where Scarab would wander off to. The Time Core, perhaps? He always did have quite the awe for that place, despite how bright and loud it was in there.

But nope. Nothing.

He searched every nook and cranny of the Time Core, but nothing. No hint of blue on the wall, other than the light fromt the time waves.

Okay, plan A was a bust.

And while Prismo was pretty good with plan Bs, he didn't really come prepared with one for this adventure. Great.

Okay, it's fine, it's just one guy, potentially anywhere, in an infinitely extending downward pocket dimension that's walls could shift and move.

This was fine.

Prismo had to take a moment to breathe. Scarab managed to find his way back up before, so it's not like he was lost forever. Probably not.

He pondered if he should give up the search.

Until one of his duplicates passed through the pickle room on a whim. It was quiet. Almost too quiet to hear. But it was there. A soft chirping.

Almost all at once, Prismo's form condensed into that room as he looked around.

It was definitely Scarab's chirping. But was that also... crying?

Now Prismo was sweating. He'd known Scarab for eons, even before they became roommates. But he's never... never... heard Scarab cry before. No one had, as far as he knew.

He peered into one of the empty cubby shelves from his pickle stash, and... sure enough, there he was.

Scarab was curled up into as tight a ball as he feasibly could. His arms covered his head, and his knees tucked up into his chest. He laid on his side, shivering.

And... his mask was off. Granted, his face was covered by his arms and hands, but Prismo could see the spots of a lighter blue where his shell was parted.

The Wishmaster didn't know what to do. What could he do?

He gently reached a hand into the hole, fingers lightly brushing against the edge of Scarab's form.

"Scarab...?"

Several things happened at once.

Scarab's mask flew right back into place, save for his mouth, which he bared in a primal hiss. All his limbs shifted into some kind of spring-loaded position, ready to bolt at a moment's notice.

"Woah, woah, Scrabs, it's me. You know, your buddy, Prismo?"

But Scarab didn't relax. His growl ended, and he closed up the lower half of his mask, but none of the tension left his shoulders, his legs, his back, even though all of it was shaking.

"Go away!" the beetle hissed, swiping at Prismo's hand. It's not like it hurt, but it was enough to startle the Wishmaster into pulling back. Scarab seemed to regret the action almost immediately, tucking himself further back into the cubby. "Don't touch me!"

"Okay, okay, I won't touch you. But... what are you doing down here, buddy? Didn't think you were the type to enjoy pickling." He laughed to himself, but it puttered out when his friend didn't return the sentiment.

Scarab just kept his body low to the ground. Even behind the mask, Prismo could hear his mandibles clicking together. While he wasn't fluent in all the noises his roommate made, he could put together this one's meaning. He's afraid. Deathly so.

"...You I'm not gonna hurt you, right? Remember, we're friends. Friends don't hurt each other. Right?"

"...I-I'm sorry."

"It's okay, I startled you, I get it. But... can you tell me what's going on, dude? I've never seen you like this."

"It's... It's nothing! Nothing!"

It was a lie. An obvious one. A desperate one. Prismo didn't even have to say it. He just continued looking into Scarab's eyes.

"I... I won't do this again, if that's what you're concerned about..."

"That's not it, Scrabs. I just want to know what's going on. And... why the pickle room?"

Scarab seemed to consider his options in answers.

"...This is the only room with holes in the wall I can get to..."

"Why did you need a hole in the wall?" He gave Scarab a soft look, a little encouraging smile.

"It... It makes me... feel... safe."

Scarab ducked his head in shame. Prismo frowned at that, for many reasons.

"Did you feel... unsafe up in the main chamber? Did I do something wrong?"

"N-No... No, it isn't you... I just... I needed to feel isolated... just for a little while..."

"Is this where you've been going recently?"

"...Yes."

Prismo sighed.

"Scarab. You don't have to if you don't want to but... Can you tell me why you've been disappearing? I'm worried about you, dude." He slowly, gently extended a hand into the cubby again, leaving it a few inches away from Scarab's silhouette.

There were a few beats of silence before Scarab's little hand extended to rest overlapped with Prismo's. The Wishmaster smiled but didn't otherwise draw attention to it.

"I... I wanted to feel safe because... my body... even in this form, it fights against me."

"What do you mean?"

"...I'm in pain, Prismo. I'm in pain and disoriented. And... my instincts make me need to hide while I'm like this. This... is the closest I have to a burrow in the Time Room."

His voice sounded so small. Much smaller than Prismo ever would've suspected the might scary God Auditor Scarab to make.

"Oh... I'm sorry Scrabs, I didn't know..."

"No one does... When I... had my job, I could ignore it if it got this bad. I was always moving. On the hunt. I could avoid listening to my own body long enough for it to fade away. But now... the Time Room is so still... so... I've gone back to... hiding."

He said that last word with a lot more contempt than Prismo expected.

"Hey. Thank you for telling me, Scrabs. How about this. When you're feeling a bit better, you can come with me, and we can make you some better hiding spots than the pickle room cubbies. I bet it's not really relaxing when everything smells like vinegar, right?"

"I... I actually can't smell it much."

"...Really? I thought beetles and stuff had, like, really good smell. With their antenna and stuff?"

Scarab flinched at that. Prismo's eyes widened.

"...Scarab... Oh no..."

The beetle sighed, slowly scootching out of the cubby, closer to the Wishmaster. His mask rearranged slightly, showing the cropped little stumps where antenna clearly used to be.

"It's... part of why I'm here. It's... disorienting, some days... And... it's not the only reason..."

Scarab seemed to hesitate again.

"...You don't have to show me if you don't want to, Scrabs."

"...But I think I do... because... well..." he trailed off. He turned around, slowly opening his elytra. "...you make me feel safe, Prismo...

The Wishmaster swallowed down the gaps he felt trying to climb up his throat. He never thought about why he'd never seen Scarab fly, either in the Time Room, or on his hunts. But... he'd never suspected this to be the reason...

His wings looks awful. Or, more accurately, what was left of his wings. It resembled pages ripped out of a book, the edges jagged and tattered. One was bent at an awkward angle, twitching ever so slightly.

"Oh Scarab..."

What could he possibly say? Sorry? It'll be okay? There wasn't anything to add. So he didn't.

He reached slowly with his other hand. Scarab flinched a little when it began overlapping his back, but his shoulders eventually relaxed as Prismo began rubbing soft circles in the center.

"...Is there anything you'd like me to do, Scrabs?"

"...I'm usually able to ride days like these out if I just stay put... I can manage."

"Yeah, I guess but... is there something that could make you more comfortable? I like blankets, personally."

"I..."

Scarab looked to the ground, like he was pondering.

"I... Don't know... I've never... thought about it before."

"...Give me a few minutes. I'll be right back."

Prismo left a silent duplicate behind to continue petting Scarab's back as he went to make his little preparations. A lot was on his mind, top of which was "What happened?"

Because something clearly did. The injuries seemed too... deliberate to be just part of the dangers of being a God Auditor. It was too specific. It was meant to hurt, but not kill.

Prismo felt his form shiver and darken the more he thought about it. He shook his hand, watching the purplish black lighten back up into pink. He couldn't get mad yet, he was on a mission.

Just as promised, Prismo returned a few minutes later, now finding Scarab's eyes closed, lightly purring at the feeling of the hand on his back.

"Hey Scrabby. I've got a surprise for you. Can you walk, or do you need help?"

Scarab slowly opened his eyes again, looking at the Wishmaster carefully.

"...I can walk, I suppose. Just... slower than you might like."

"That's okay. It's not going anywhere."

The two walked through the halls of the Time Room's basement in relative silence. Prismo occasionally hummed, and Scarab sometimes joined in with a soft trill, but neither felt the need to speak at the moment.

"Alright man... here we are."

Prismo gestures to a new hole in the wall. Scarab raised an eyebrow, curiously crawling up the wall into the hole. The Wishmaster smiled at the surprised little gasp he heard.

Tucked into the back of the hole, which was much deeper and cozier than the pickle cubby, was essentially a nest. A soft heated blanket covered the bottom, a white noise machine, and a thermos of hot tea waited for Scarab.

"Prismo... you... you didn't have to do this..."

"I guess not. But... well, maybe I wanted to. I didn't know you were in pain, but now that I do, I'd be a pretty bad friend to let you wallow in it. So... think of this as your space to get away if you need it. We can make more when you're feeling better, but I think this is a good start, yeah?"

"This is... all mine?"

"Yep. There's a little remote in there too, with a little screen. If you want to watch something, or whatever. If need anything else, just push the big red button on the bottom, and I'll send a dupe down here to help."

"I..."

Scarab sounded like he was on the verge of tears again, but the beetle choked them back down.

"...Thank you, Prismo."

Prismo couldn't help but smile.

"Feel better soon, Scrabs. We still need to figure out the next chapter for this mystery drama we've been cooking up, yeah?"

Scarab let out a soft chuckle as he curled himself into the back of his hiding spot. "Yes, indeed."

The Wishmaster nodded before leaving the beetle to his rest. It wasn't common for him to help without a wish but... Well, he had a feeling he might be more than willing to bend the rules when it came to things like this.

And, with the tired smile in Scarab's eyes still fresh in his head, Prismo couldn't find it in him to mind.

[deusvervewrites]

When you think about it, the current situation between the state of Jujutsu Kaisen and MHA are really similar. Both Shonen are reaching their end points, with MHA having one more arc to go and JJK having maybe two more. They’ll both end by end of year. Both fandoms are actively imploding: MHA fans are either writing fanfic to deal with Horikoshi’s questionable writing decisions (to be fair, he has to deal with Jump editors) or just coping. (Ask 1/2, I’m running out of space)

Jujutsu Kaisen fans are either coping extremely hard (search up lobotomy Kaisen for context) or just practically praying that Gege fixes the story. Both authors are trying to finish the story up fast. Gege is trying to finish so that they can write their idol manga (yes, really) and earlier, Horokoshi is done with the jump editors. The problems plaguing both manga are even similar, with Horokoshi’s villains being boring and him killing off to many people, and Gege’s villains… (ask 2/3) …Are also boring AF, with the equivalent of the HPSC or even Overhaul, (Kenjaku, who’s as immortal as AFO but actually smart), being replaced as BBEG by Sukuna, who STILL has not had his backstory explained. (And is as dull as AFO.) The only difference is that Gege has killed too many characters for us to care, while the stakes that Horokoshi has put up aren’t all that engaging. (And again, so many pacing issues.) Thankfully Gege seems to be back to writing well, but only after a THREE WEEK …Break. ( sorry, my last ask got sent in early.) With all that said, what do you think about both series? And what do you think either author could do to fix it? (So sorry that my asks are this long, this got longer than I expected, and I didn’t know Tumblr had a character cap) (Ask 3/4)

I never got into Jujutsu Kaisen. I have no idea what it's fandom is doing and I'm not really invested in finding out since I'm not reading that manga. However, I do know enough to weigh in on Sukuna. The reason I hate AFO being an idiotic cardboard cutout is because of how he was built up, and how MHA has other characters represent societal failings, but AFO doesn't. How AFO steals the screentime from the far more compelling Shigaraki.

However.

Sukuna, from my understanding, was always the main antagonist. After all, the series starts with him possessing the protagonist. Additionally, JJK takes many cues from Naruto--which makes sense, as they're both highly influenced by Hunter x Hunter. And Sukuna serves a very similar role to the Nine Tailed Fox in Naruto, but where Kurama eventually came around, Sukuna doesn't. All media is a conversation.

Like, Sukuna is the Evil Curse. Isn't he called The King of Evil Curses or something? Why wouldn't I assume he's the main antagonist, when he's introduced the way he is and given such weighty titles like that and remains a constant threat through the entire story?

I'm sure an actual JJK fan could give a more nuanced take on it though.

As for fixing MHA? You can't. And I'm fine with that. The problems I have with MHA are things that either have to have never happened (the OFA Kills Quirked Wielders bullshit) or needs a total rewrite (the HPSC not being a major antagonist before their destruction). However, Horikoshi already laid the groundwork for all of the things I want rewritten. I don't necessarily need to see Midoriya fight the HPSC to know that they're bad and that he's making a point about government seizing control of bodily autonomy being bad, or that celebrity culture leads to unsustainable pressure and putting people on unrealistic pedestals. Horikoshi has already made those points.

[greenerteacups]

So, because I definitely care a Normal Amount ™ about Lionheart, I went back and re-read the entire thing in preparation for the last chapter of Book 4. It was such an interesting exercise because while I love reading serialized fiction (it's such a core part of what makes fanfic amazing) - it really does hit differently when you look at the story up until this point in it's entirety. (I could go on absolutely unhinged tangents about how much the way you have adjusted canon that just scratches the excema in my brain.)

However- on this re-read, the line that Draco says when he and Hermione have their seminal discussion in the owlery snagged my mind and I can't stop thinking about how Draco accuses Hermione of liking the fact that he's meaner than she is. Because on one hand - yes? He absolutely has less of a sense than she does about Right Decisions, because she always wants to do the "right" thing, but objectively its not always the right thing to do - its just moral relativism rearing its old ugly head again. But on the other hand, he's completely wrong because Hermione (at least in the original books) has this enormous capacity for cruelty that shes not even aware of - partially because girly does not have a single ounce of tact, but also because she wasn't brought up in the wizarding world. She lacks some of the context and cultural clues that allow characters like Draco and Daphne to navigate with an ease she likely envies. And while all the Slytherin bbs have high IQs and low EQs, I think they also are hyper aware of personal standing, so I could easily see Hermione blithely insulting someone without realizing it and completely RUINING their day/month/year etc.

I'm curious if you've thought any more about this dynamic between D/H - and what they think of the others capacity for mean-ness and cruelty??

YES! To all! Especially the bit about Hermione having "an enormous capacity for cruelty that she's not aware of," because yes, that's pretty much one of her cardinal faults as a character — the insidious combination of (a) not really prioritizing other people's feelings if/when they conflict with something Hermione wants or feels, and (b) not being at all aware that she has that quality, and in fact believing herself to be the most emotionally intelligent member of the Trio. (Remember "emotional range of a teaspoon"? I burst out laughing when that happened, because like... girl. The call is coming from inside the house.) At the same time, she's smart enough to recognize when other people are unkind or tactless, so there's this beautifully intricate hypocrisy to how she understands her own emotional intelligence — her pride and arrogance blind her to ways that she neglects others, but her sincere generosity, kindness, and desperate yearning to be helpful and good to other people actually do allow her to see when other people are bad at it, as well as propel her to... well... try. It's a really interesting combination. Hermione is so much fun.

I wouldn't characterize that as cruelty, though, and to an extent it's not necessarily meanness — not in the way that Draco's talking about in that conversation, anyway. Firstly, as a caveat, Draco is in the middle of a fight when he accuses Hermione of liking the fact that he's mean, so I don't think he's altogether sincere about it; I think if you asked him in a moment of repose, he would have a more measured and generous interpretation on their dynamic, even though he's not necessarily wrong. Rather, I think what Draco said is a very inelegant way of pointing out how Hermione uses Draco as a moral backboard: she enjoys the moral high ground, does Granger, and Draco is almost always completely happy to cede it to her. Being around Draco makes her feel like a Good Gryffindor, because while he matches and challenges her intellect/ambition/drive, she gives him direction and moral focus, which is a role he's explicitly told her she plays on multiple counts, and which she's expressed insecurity about in the past (their fireside conversation about "am I good?" and what that means — the idea of capital-G Goodness, and how it becomes increasingly difficult to find as you leave childhood, is one of the tenets of Hermione's arc.)

Secondly, I think Draco is just meaner than Hermione because when he is mean, he does it on purpose. One of the earliest moments of bonding that they ever have as people comes from Draco making fun of Ron's performance in Charms (while imitating his accent, to add insult). Hermione doesn't make the joke herself — but she does laugh at it. She finds it funny. Of course, that's before she's friends with Ron, and she has about 500,000 words of personal growth in front of her, but she still enjoys Draco's dry humor and his attention to detail, both of which he not infrequently uses to make fun of people on purpose. Draco knows this, and he likes amusing her, and sometimes he'll actively make a mean joke because he knows she finds it funny, and because he knows she won't make it herself. They're not the most likable people in the world.

Hermione may not have the same social graces as people born in the magical world, but when she insults people, she usually does it on accident, out of tactlessness, or because they've (in her eyes) well and truly earned it. She doesn't go out of her way to pick on people who haven't asked for it first, and I would go so far as to say her moral compass bars her from it. That's part of what Draco means when he claims to be the worse person, and while he's being wildly uncharitable in that argument, not to mention just an all-around arsehole, he is also a licensed expert on the particular subject of his relationship with Hermione Granger. He knows their dynamic very well, and she knows it.

[meruz]

another ask post

i mean i also read it because a friend whos rly into queer SFF fiction circles recced it but she did kinda lead with "the writer used to write hs fanfic...tasmyn..taz...?" to which i replied

of COURSE I read the locked tomb because i heard taz had written a book. of course. ill consume most any media made by a beloved homestuck bnf. thats also why i played undertale. and read like..snotgirl. and idk... watched the new dub of neon genesis evangelion.

if u made homestuck fanwork 10 years ago and havent even made it since chances are I still remember and I love you for it.

sdlkfhsg its funny you sensed that because that drawing did in fact start kinda more........ well, I'd be lying if I said my hands never wrought a drawing toeing over the pg-13 line LOL...

NOT to say i have a secret stash of porn or anything. in general im more interested in the implication of sexuality or mature themes over any explicit depiction. like everything i draw is so softcore itd almost feel silly to make a nsfw acc for anything.

but im not rly jumping to post anything on main either bc i get the sense i have a lot of kids in my social media following. it varies from site to site and fandom to fandom but the themes in my work often circle around childhood, coming of age etc and in general i like stories about kids so the fandoms i draw for have a lot of kids in them. even stuff like IT (stephen king) which is about kids but isn't necessarily for kids.. there were a lot of kids in that fandom lol.

actually thats why ive been censoring swears in comics lately because the tmnt fandom comes across to me as a little young...IDK I've had MULTIPLE people ask me what "sodomize" means because of the joke in this post and I'm like... I Cannot be the one to explain this to you. you have to look it up on your own klfsdhsdg like i wouldn't be doing this if i were doing a comic for mgs or even homestuck wherein the characters textually swear constantly LOL but sometimes u gotta change tacks depending on the faces u see in the crowd yknow.

i HAVE been thinking abt drawing nsfw of sunspot/richard rider/kobak from x-men red just because that comic seemed to be really asking for it. who knows.. if the need rly arises maybe my separate account policy will change.

its rly more a matter of the fact that i havent read/watched much of any other iterations... im sure id like most lol. I like most things related to my interests regardless of quality. i rly like the marvel ultimate alliance games for instance. sometimes seeing my fave guy is enough he doesnt have to be well written LOL. i dont exactly have a wealth of free time tho thats the real impediment.

i did watch the 2007 movie on new years eve and found it quite charming overall. and i have read about 30-40 issues between the mirage and idw comics. still feels like im barely scratching the surface but i liked em. i rly want to read all the sophie campbell stuff bc i think her work is interesting. jason aaron will be a mixed bag i think lmao. i say as the worlds biggest Wolverine and the X-Men (2011) fan.

hmm this is kinda hard bc i feel like i naturally draw very loose and the hard part for me is tightening it up. maybe some suggestions tho...

1) hand excercises. i think its easy to forget this when many artists sit in front of the computer all day but drawing is a physical activity u do with ur actual...bodys...muscles lol. if u feel urself tightening up it might help to strech (any google search for "artist hand excercises" should yield good results) or do a page of loose practice strokes like..big circles. long lines. scribbles. that kinda thing. whatever feels good for ur hand. this is also just good to do as a general warm up before u sit down for any drawing sesh.

2) draw further away from the canvas. as a general rule...when ur painting traditionally you do the big strokes with your whole arm outstreched and a long handled brush. and when you do the details its smaller wrist movements and a shorter handled brush. so it might help to take a step back or push back from ur chair a little.. or hold ur tablet a little further away. and hold your pen further away from the nib.

3) change mediums / brush types. some brushes and mediums are more suited to loose sketching and some more inclined towards detail work. so changing ur tool could help. also! i personally have this problem where sometimes if im using a brush i feel really familiar with the pressure to make a "good" "finished" "perfect" drawing is greater... if i want to force myself to loosen up ill switch to a tool i dont use as often so it feels like the pressure is off. a lot of times for me this is switching from digital to traditional. but sometimes its switching from a small pen to a big marker. or a smooth pen to a textured one. or a nice brush to a shitty dried up marker.

but also every body is different so i dont think these tips will work for everyone. u should listen to what ur body and mind tell u and how drawing feels to you

bro just sign up and set it up i dont think theres much to it... i dont rly think too much abt my itch.io store because its digital goods so u just upload the file and let it do its thing. no distribution work needed on ur part. youll notice i barely even advertise my itch unless i have smth new on there lol.. its easy. but good luck!!!

idk if im the best person to ask this im more a comic fan than i am a comic professional... a comic hobbist.

well. scott mcclouds understanding comics and making comics are good books on the craft. i think i had to buy them for a class in art school once.

other than that idk just keep at it. comics are really laborious i think for a lot of people the hardest part is sitting down and doing it.

i think a lot of people have a very instinctive understanding of how to read comics and what they look like so whatever you think seems like good way to tell the story you have in mind, its probably right. if u get stuck, study comics that have done something similar. most people in comics are relatively self taught and actually it can be problematic bc you can tell when a lot of comic artists are all copying the same like 5 old white guys LMAO. but on the flip side if you make sure to reference and study broadly your comics will almost assuredly feel unique.

sorry im responding to this anyways. this is just a really nice ask. i like when people reference my older work bc i feel like sometimes theyre subtly implying it wasnt very good LMAOOO. but its true! at least compared to the work i make now ^^ and the fact that im still making art is whats keeping me from being embarassed abt how much of my old art just floats around online lmao im never ashamed to be growing and learning. isnt that a nice thought <3

[bigalockwood]

Hey hey Lia 💜,

I only just realised that you were doing the fanfic asks, so I am a little late, but I am wondering about 8,17, 18, 27, 29 and 37 ( I know these are a lot of numbers, so feel free to just answer the ones you want to)

Wishing you a so wenig stressig wie möglich weekend!

Sophia thanks for sending so many!! I love talking about writing 💜💜💜

8) Share a snippet from one of your favorite dialogue scenes you’ve written and explain why you’re proud of it.

This took me ages to decide. I'm actually not even proud of it because I think it is necessarily particularly well written, but because it's a topic I have very strong feelings about and it felt so validating when I saw how many people resonated with it!

“No, you misunderstand, they didn’t out me. They just asked me about my sexuality and, you know, it was necessary. It’s the sort of thing they’d have to ask me for damage control.”

“Wille, I get that your life can be sort of strange at times and that it often follows different rules and all that, but that is, by definition, still what it means to be outed. I’m glad it didn’t feel like another violation of your privacy to you, but they still shouldn’t have done that,” Simon said, vehemently.

[...] “I’m sorry. I wished people stopped acting like they have any right to know our sexualities. [....]

17) Do you write your story from start to finish, or do you write the scenes out of order?

Depends on the story! Royally Whipped I'm mostly writing in order since I don't have much time to write the chapters, so I'll only write down ideas for future scenes. For my new WIP I've written parts of different chapters already. In the chapters themselves I jump around and hardly every write one in chronological order.

18) Do you use any tools, like worksheets or outlines?

No. I have a very, very rough outline, but it mostly only has specific scenes or emotional stages I want to write towards. I never keep to any outlines and overthrow them within minutes after making them, so I no longer bother with them lmao.

27) How do you feel about collaborations?

I did one ages ago, when I was still in school. It was a lot of fun and I'd definitely be open for it again, but it certainly takes up more time and you need someone you can trust in.

29) If you could write the sequel (or prequel) to any fic out there not written by yourself, which would you choose?

Honestly? The answer is none, just because I don't think I could do any of my favorite stories justice. Not because I think my writing is bad, but because I love them as much because of the special something they have thanks to the author who's written them. Wouldn't say no to a sequel or prequel written by them though asfdhsfdkja

37) Talk about your current wips.

I've briefly talked about my next projects here. But my BIG WIP's right now are Royally Whipped which is very close to being done (probably two more chapters) and then #Simon's revenge.

Some people have been asking for a social media chapter for RW, which is extremely flattering, and I love reading those, but don't even know how to begin putting one together. So, that might happen, if I ever get my shit together (or someone else volunteers to do it ahsjfdasj).

Simon's renevge is a AU where Wille isn't Prince (still rich tho) and meets Simon under... interesting circumstances. Simon is seeking revenge on someone else and poor Wille becomes emotional collateral damage. It'll be less fluffy than RW, though hopefully just as fun. It's very gremlin!simon (channelling all his dodgeball energy). I have a moodboard that I might post soon and maybe some snippets leading up to it's release, if anyone's interested.

[thescarletwitchsapprentice]

Yandere Mom!Wanda trying to kidnap Reader from another universe, because she misses her baby pleaseeee

I love that!

Baby Mine (Yandere Mom!Wanda Maximoff x Reader) (Potential MoM spoilers ahead! Read at your own discretion!)

*Not my GIF

Summary: Wanda had long accepted that she wouldn't be able to get her children back, yet she refused to accept having no one to love.

You had long accepted that you would always be the outcast of your family, yet you refused to accept that there was no hope.

What happens when she spies you whilst viewing other universes?

(CW: Potential ableism, (I'd like to make it autistic and non-autistic inclusive if I can. It could be read as the reader being autistic, having severe trauma, or both because quite a few trauma symptoms overlap with some autism symptoms) self-harm, abuse, yelling, angst, hurt/comfort, mentions of death, MoM spoilers, (sorry, I forgot to put this as a content warning, please don’t hate me am fragile nugget)

Author's Note: Someone wrote a reply to my "Wanda's your next door neighbor" imagine that they "totally haven't reread it a concerning amount of times." And it makes me realize just how many of us use fanfics to fill the voids in our lives....(fuck, now I'm tearing up) So while yandere fics aren't usually supposed to be a good thing, I think taking the reader from an abusive family to give them the love they deserve may be the exception.

I'm also bringing in another character or two.

“Baby mine, don't you cry Baby mine, dry your eyes Rest your head close to my heart Never to part, baby of mine.”

Wanda wakes up in her little cabin, alone as always. Her face is stained with tear tracks. Billy and Tommy had appeared in her dreams again, and while she missed them terribly, she'd given up her search.

"Know that they'll be loved..."

She knows.....yet it doesn't fill the hole in her heart.

After spending some more time in bed, she gets up and gets dressed before making herself some tea with her breakfast. Everyday just seems to drag on now that she's resigned herself to this fate. And yet, there's still this little spark of hope that she may find something or someone to love, someone that she won't lose.

With that little spark of hope, she goes about her day until she decides to use some magic to view other universes. It's not necessarily dream-walking, it's more like just being an observer without leaving the universe you're in.

For some time, she comes up empty-handed. But suddenly, she spies....someone.

===========

"Ah!"

You cry out as your mother confronts you with your report card.

"What is this?" she snaps, practically punching it with her finger.

You look to see that B+ in Science, sticking out of the sea of As like a sore thumb.

"It's....it's a B+," you say.

"Yeah, a B+."

"It's.....it's still passing...." you defend weakly.

"It's barely passing!" she snaps. "You're not applying yourself. You need to stop being so lazy and actually try for once in your life!"

"But....but I--"

"SHUT UP!"

You wince as her voice punches your ear drums.

"I didn't raise you to be a lazy brat! Are you even studying?"

"I-I am....but I still don't understand--"

"I don't want to hear your excuses."

She huffs.

"I give you a roof over your head, clothes to wear, food to eat, and all I ask is for you to do well in school and help out around the house. I don't think that's too much to ask, but how do you repay me? By sitting on your ass all day doing fuck-all! Do you know how hard I work to raise you all by myself?! And where were you?! You didn't come home on the normal bus!"

"I-I was staying back to get help for Science," you reply meekly.

"Liar!" Your mother snaps. "You were out with some punks, weren't you?"

"No! I wasn't, I promise."

"Likely story."

Suddenly your mother pinches down on your ear and yanks you up to your room.

"Ungrateful, useless brat! Stop that whimpering or else I'll give you something to cry about."

She drags you to your bedroom and pushes you inside to the ground before throwing your backpack at you as well, hitting you in the back. The textbook corner in your backpack hammers on your spine and you wince.

"Stay in here and study, you stupid bitch."

She loudly slams the door shut before you hear a click. She's locked you in. After a few minutes, you sit up weakly and sit on your floor. The tears fall silently as you bite down on your arm.

"Every day...." you squeak as you rock on the floor. "Every day I hope for someone to take me away from this hell hole....I don't know how much longer I can take this....someone....please help me...."

=======================

Wanda's heart breaks and the tears fall down her face at the sight of you. A poor, sweet child who wants to love and be loved only for that wretched woman to degrade and abuse you. She doesn't deserve you. In that moment, Wanda's mind is made up. But unfortunately you're in another universe.

She'll need to call in some back-up. And she knows just who to summon.

=======================

America Chavez has her eyes on a fellow sorceress in Kamar Taj, distracting her from her studies. Her heart flutters at the girl's smile, her stomach fills with butterflies at the song that is her laugh. And this is the first time she's actually felt a bit shy, something completely new to her. She's never been shy.

But today's the day she's gonna talk to her.

"Okay, America," she whispers to herself. "You can do this. Just go up to her and start a conversation. It's not that complicated."

She takes a deep breath before approaching her.

"Um, hey," she says, trying her damnedest to push down her nerves. "I....I've seen you in lessons before and, uh, I'm-I'm America Chavez."

The girl smiles at America.

"Oh yeah, I've seen you too. I'm Titania Phillips, like the fairy queen in A Midsummer Night's Dream."

The two of them just stand there for a bit in silence.

"Say something, America!" her mind snaps at her. "You can do this."

"So, uh," she begins. "Do you like.....stuff?"

Titania giggles.

"Yes, I do in fact like stuff. What sort of stuff are you referring to?"

"Girls?"

It just....bursts out of America's mouth, causing her cheeks to turn scarlet.

"Oh, you're lesbian too?" Titania asks. "I thought it was just me."

"Score!" America squeals internally as she nods. "Okay, now just ask her if she wants to eat lunch or something."

"Umm...." Titania says. "You can stop nodding."

America realizes that she's become a human bobble head and grasps the sides of her head to stop herself.

"Sorry," she chuckles. "So, um, you maybe wanna get lunch or some--?"

Her words are cut off by a grip on her mind. A few seconds later, she finds herself in an unfamiliar house. Something closes behind her and she turns around just in time to see a star-shaped portal close completely.

"Seriously?!" she exclaims.

"America."

A voice hits her ears, one she hasn't heard in a while. She turns to see the last person she'd expect to see.

"W-Wanda?!" she exclaims. "I-I thought you---."

The Scarlet Witch chuckles bitterly.

"You really think it’d happen so easily?"

America blinks a bit.

"What even happened?" she asks. "I was trying to talk to a girl in Kamar Taj."

"And how was that going for you?" Wanda asks, almost knowingly.

"....I was dorky as hell," the teen lesbian mumbles under her breath, glancing down at the floor.

Hearing this Wanda giggles.

"Don’t worry, you’ll get more confident around her. Maybe she'll even be your first kiss."

"Okay, pushing my love life aside, how and why did you bring me here?"

"I had to take control of you for a moment, make you summon a portal to me."

"You...you're not gonna....are you?" America begins to panic.

"No, I'm not," Wanda assures her. "I brought you here in desperate need of your assistance."

"With....what?"

Wanda takes a deep breath.

"Follow me."

She takes America to her universe-viewing room and conjures up what she saw earlier.

"I found a child."

"I thought you gave up on finding the twins."

"I have," she confirms. "But this one's different. Take a look."

She replays the footage and America feels her heart break.

"Holy shit...." she gasps. "What kind of monster treats a kid like that?!"

"Apparently that child's mother. They're in another universe, though. That's where you come in. I need you to make a portal to their universe."

"You're taking them from their family?!"

Wanda nods.

"It's for the best. No child deserves that sort of barbaric and cruel treatment."

Hearing this, the teen is torn. On one hand, she saw how you were being treated, but on the other hand, that's your family. And yet she heard you say how it's an every day occurrence. She can only imagine how little you have to hang onto.

With this thought in mind, she nods.

"Okay, I'll help you. When should we go get them?"

"When it's nighttime in their universe," Wanda answers. "I'll need for you to just wait around a few hours."

"But...Titania..." she whimpers.

"You can talk to her all you like when this is over. Now would you like me to make you some tea?"

"Um....I'm good, thanks." America shivers at the memory.

"I'm really gonna need therapy for that."

=========

It's now 12 am in your universe and your eyes are stinging from all of the studying, but you're so scared that your mother is gonna burst into the room and yell at you some more. And yet....you feel like that's what you deserve.

You hear your stomach grumble and feel the immense ache. You didn't get dinner that evening. How could you when your momster locked you in your own bedroom?

"What's the point?" you sigh as you throw down your textbook, not realizing how loud it is. "I'm never gonna be good enough....I should just sleep on it."

You put on some worn and scratchy PJs and get ready to tuck yourself in your uncomfortable bed when you hear the click of the lock. You begin to panic as the door slams open loudly.

"What are you doing?!" Your mother snaps. "I didn't tell you you could stop studying."

"I need sleep," you tell her.

"Don't you dare talk back to me!"

"But--"

"I said don't talk back!"

You put your hands over your ears and begin rocking, scrunching your eyes shut. Not a moment later, your hands are yanked away from your ears and pinned down.

"Don't you dare ignore me! Look me in the eyes when I'm talking to you, you worthless mistake!"

Pinning down both hands with one, she raises her free hand, ready to smack you. You can't take this anymore and at that moment, you scream out in agony.

"SOMEBODY SAVE ME PLEASE!"

All of a sudden, your mom lets go of your hand and you hear her cry out before a loud bang reaches your ears. You open your eyes to see your mom on the floor with her back against the wall.

"Get your hands off of that child." A voice you don't recognize, one with an accent, growls at her.

Your mother is too stunned to speak. You look over to see a woman with red hair in a red and black outfit. Next to her is a girl with black hair wearing a denim jacket. The red-haired woman nods to the girl and the girl approaches you while the red-haired woman goes over to your mom.

"C'mon," she tells you. "We're here to get you out of here."

You're extremely hesitant, but the girl insists.

"We're not gonna hurt you, we promise."

All of a sudden, you hear your mother scream in fear. Looking over, you only just see her eyes glow red before she curls up in the fetal position in fear. The red-haired woman approaches you.

"It’s going to be alright, sweetie," she tells you. "We promise we won't hurt you."

You're still very hesitant and the red-haired woman sighs, as if she knew this was how you would react, but it's not in an impatient way. All of a sudden, a red wisp seems to emerge from her hand and enters through your ear. You see a brief flash of red before you fall asleep.

==============================

The first thing you notice when you come to is softness. Softness all around you.

Opening your eyes, you find yourself somewhere unfamiliar and you get a bit anxious.

"Hey, it's okay, sweetie."

You hear a gentle voice near you. Looking up, you see the red-haired woman sitting on the edge of the bed next to you. She’s now in casual clothes. You panic a bit.

"Please...don't hurt me..." you whimper.

"I would never hurt you," she assures you. "Never."

She reaches out her hand to you and you flinch.

“You don’t have to, if you don’t want to,” she says to you softly.

“Are....are you gonna hit me?” you stammer.

“Never,” she tells you. “I promise I will never hit you.”

You’re silent for a bit, tentatively taking ahold of her hand after several minutes. She gently rubs the back of yours with her thumb.

“Where....where am I?” you ask.

“You’re in my house,” she tells you.

“How did I get here?”

“It’s a long story.”

“And why am I here?”

You hear her sigh again. 

“I-I’m sorry,” you whimper.

“You have nothing to apologize for, sweetie,” she assures you. “It’s just, it’s difficult to explain without startling you. The important thing is that I brought you here because I heard your pleas to be taken away from that place. No child should ever be treated like that. You deserve love and kindness.”

“N-no I don’t.”

“....I know it’s difficult to believe considering how long the abuse has been happening for, but I promise it’s true. You deserve to be loved, and that’s why you’re here. I want to be your mother.”

You hear this and you’re in disbelief.

“H-huh? Is...is this a dream?” you ask.

She smiles softly.

“No, it’s not a dream. It’s very real, sweetie. I truly want to be your mother. I want to love you and take care of you.”

Your eyes begin to water.

“I....I don’t have to go back there, right?”

She shakes her head.

“No, never. This is your home now, you’ll always be loved here.”

You let a small squeak escape your throat and your lip quivers before you weep. You lean forward and hug your new mother.

“Thank you....” you cry, feeling a wave of relief. “Thank you....mom...”

It feels odd, and yet comforting, to say that.

She hugs you in return and rubs your back gently.

“It’s okay, sweetie. Just let it out. It’s okay to cry,” she assures you. “I’m here. Mommy’s here.”

Her love for you grows the longer you two hug. It’s been so long since she’s had someone to care for, and now she has you. You’ve given her a reason to keep going, just by being with her. You truly are a sweet child, now her sweet child; so loving and kind and hopeful.

And Wanda wants nothing more than for you to stay that way.

See....what you don’t know is that you aren’t the only person/thing Wanda had America help retrieve. Unbeknownst to her, Wanda had her retrieve an extremely-powerful elixir; a single dose stops aging, assures complete immortality, and fully protects from all deadly diseases and injuries. She injected a dose into you while you were asleep before injecting herself with a dose. 

Not only that, but she’s also placed a barrier around the island. Just enough for you to explore, but not stray so far from her. On top of that, she’s placed an enchantment on America and made sure to disguise it, in case Strange and Wong notice something’s up; it’s to summon her back in case she needs something for you. She’s not going to take her powers, no, but she still wants to make sure that she has what she needs to take care of you.

Yes, you; her precious child.

She won’t let anything or anyone hurt you.

All you’ll know is love from now on.

And no one will ever take you away from her.

She’s made certain of that....

“From your head to your toes (Baby mine) You're so sweet, goodness knows (Baby mine) You are so precious to me Cute as can be Baby of mine Baby mine Baby mine.”

[superleeleehipster]

Feeling Nostalgic...

Hey everyone, long time no talk... very long time, lol.

I just wanted to get something off my chest.

So I was going through some stories on Nine Lives, wanting to find something to read and get lost in, and I was just kind of hit with nostalgia.

I was by no means here when the official Caryl fanbase really kicked off, but I began following it in the year 2015. Doesn't sound very far now, but if you think about it, that was nearly 10 years ago, and I fell in it hard. I began looking at all of the amazing blogs and posts that talked about how awesome caryl is and how there were hints here and hints there about them eventually getting together. I soon began making my own posts and trying to keep everyone positive and just talk about our common love. I started writing my own fanfiction, and some of the stories that came out of me in those years, I'm even surprised at how creative I was.

We weren't necessarily stressed about things or other ships or what have you; we just enjoyed caryl and what it was.

Fast forwarding to now, and I feel like this fanbase has gone through the fucking ringer. Bad writing, bad showrunning, shipbaiting, ship wars, gaslighting, trolls chasing Melissa off of Twitter, all that mayhem. We have just gone through so much crap. Now it's like we're holding our breath while we wait for the Daryl Dixon spinoff to give us what we absolutely deserve, but are constantly being pulled back and forth about it.

And the worst part is, some of us are just so tired of being let down that we might be thinking, "even if it goes in our favor... would it be worth it at this point?" And I wouldn't blame those people, I really wouldn't. We've all gone through some hell.

Anyways, to make a long story short... anyone else miss the old days?

Back then, all we did was speak about the shared Caryl scenes in the latest episode, and how Daryl's hair curling around his ears makes him look handsome. Or Carol showing her growing fierceness and self confidence. All the while, so many amazing writers were punching out fanfiction novels that would put the very show's staff of writers to shame. Life was good; we just enjoyed the fanbase we were in.

I just miss those days, you know?

Now everything is so complicated. It's like a once clean river has gotten polluted and no one knows how to clean it up. At the end of the day, most of us just want to enjoy Caryl and the beauty that it was and still is. But so many things are dirtying the water, it's so hard to bring the focus back on why we all came here originally.

Hell I haven't written anything fanfic wise in over a year, and that was only after not writing anything a year prior too. My mojo just got muddied up like the rest of it.

I don't mean to make anyone depressed of course; I'm just venting a little bit I guess. I just miss when things were so much more simple. Could we go back to that? Maybe... if Caryl actually becomes canon and it's done right for both the characters and the audience, but we'll see though.

In the meantime, I'm just going to read some fanfics and remind myself of why I joined in the first place. Maybe that'll remind me of how much I enjoyed writing for these characters.

Have a good day/night/week loves.

[zombiedumbie]

00. TIME MOVES SLOW WHEN YOU'RE ALL ALONE, AND TIMES MOVES SLOW;

I've been thinking about writing a fanfic after reading this one (btw this is a recommendation). it would be basically the opposite: I have a headcannon that Law would be considerably rich due to his family of doctors. So, the person who would live in all the luxury would be our dear aspiring doctor. Added a touch of drama 'cause I love a little pain.

This is just one chapter because I wanted to know if you guys like the idea, so if you'd like me to continue, please let me know.

2302 words.

modern au, she/her reader, use of "y/n", angst (?), law is 22, grief, implicit and explicit drug use, swearing, post-traumatic stress. mdni!

Grief is a complex set of emotions that humans deal with after the loss of something fundamentally important to them. Grief isn't always triggered solely by death, but also, as mentioned earlier, by the painful farewell to something significant. Today, it is understood that grief has 7 stages: denial, anger, bargaining, depression, and acceptance; not necessarily faced in that order.

However, when grief stops being a loss and turns into a disease, it's called pathological grief.

In this way, Trafalgar D. Water Law has lived the last 12 years of his life.

Law was sprawled on the bed of god-knows-who, with his shirt unbuttoned and his head spinning. The noise he could hear was his heavy breathing, as if his ears were inside his dry throat, while his eyes moved agonizingly slowly around the unfamiliar room.

The memories of how he got there or what was happening had long escaped his mind, but he was certain of one thing: He needed water, and perhaps a shower. Maybe he should call Rosinante, despite promising him that he wouldn't do it again.

Determined to reach the kitchen, Law dragged himself out of bed, his feet hitting the floor as steadily as he could manage — which wasn't much. He was almost halfway there when he stumbled over a blazer and fell to the ground like a bag of bones, shaking the room.

He began to mutter, wondering who would leave a blazer in the middle of the room like that. The blazer was his. The door creaked open with a muffled sound due to the music, and Law felt someone touch his back.

"Damn, I thought someone was having a pretty hardcore fuck here", the voice was familiar, Law looked up to see who it was. "I was going to ask to join, but it was just you", Sabo smiled, looking at Law with that same psychopathic smile as usual.

Sabo was one of those boys whose parents always warned to stay away from, as he could become a criminal or an addict in the future. However, as he grew up, Sabo silenced everyone when he was accepted into one of the best universities in the country, becoming one of the smartest people anyone had ever seen around him; even though he often seemed to hate it all. In the end, he settled for studying International Relations at the state's best college, against everyone's wishes and only following his own reasoning.

However, he still acted like a crazy fuck. And that's why he understood the whole situation when he saw Law's red eyes. "Damn, that was strong, huh?", he helped Law to his feet.

"F-Fuck off", Law groaned as he stood up, his cheeks flushed with embarrassment from his deplorable situation. "I-I want water", the words came out unconsciously, as if his body was speaking for him.

Sabo laughed, helping him walk out of the room. "Come with me, I'll help you", the blonde shouted over the music. They practically stumbled down the stairs to the ground floor.

The silver decorations and the low light of the place, combined with the loud music and the large number of people there, made Law even dizzier. The only thing he could look at to help his mental confusion was the huge glass window that overlooked a large and well-maintained garden, which, unfortunately, was filled with people here and there.

Sabo guided them to a corridor beside the stairs. The corridor seemed to stretch and then shrink several times as they walked to the door at the end, which Sabo pushed slowly before entering with Law.

It was the kitchen that Law had longed to reach in the last 3 minutes. The light was bright compared to the rest of the party; there were some waiters hired for the night, along with some people Law had seen around.

The kitchen was filled with the most expensive appliances. The stove had so many burners it looked ridiculous, the refrigerator seemed as wide and tall as a cabinet, and all the utensils were neatly arranged, highly polished and gleaming. Not to mention the extensive marble countertops and the golden details in the corners of each piece of furniture; there was also a long glass wall that displayed the image of the distant nighttime city, as bright as day due to its ever-lit lights, divided by the scenery of a quiet beach.

Given the attention to detail in this kitchen, it was possible that whoever the owner of this house was, they never had to set foot in this kitchen.

"Oi, Sabo", Kid spoke. Kid was a red-haired guy with painted nails and lipstick on his lips, holding a blunt between his fingers and blowing smoke through his teeth. He was dressed in the rest of his waiter outfit, his apron now tucked into the back pocket of his pants and his black dress shirt open.

"Who's this guy?", Kid, another one of the waiters, asked, watching Sabo lean Law against the wall next to the door. "Damn, he's messed up, huh?", he said as he saw the man bow his head.

Law was pitifully leaning against the wall, slightly leaning forward, head down, and too weak to move his hanging arms. His vision was a blur of his tattooed arms covered with a lazily rolled-up white dress shirt on his elbows and his shoes now dirty from who-knows-what.

Sabo laughed. "Go easy on him, he's new to this stuff", Law wanted to protest, but his tongue felt too heavy in his mouth. Sabo left his blazer on the counter and opened the refrigerator for water.

Maybe he was too high, but he still felt a gaze burning his skin. He slowly turned his head to look at a girl sitting on the floor, her back against the wall, wearing a waiter outfit similar to the others', now looser; and it was her who now held Kid's blunt.

The girl looked him up and down as she brought the cigarette between her index and thumb to her lips, there was a certain pity in her eyes, but Law chose to ignore it, no matter how irresistible her figure might be.

"His name is Law", Sabo added, handing him a glass of water.

"No way!", Kid said, laughing. "The Trafalgar Law? Man, you're like Batman!", Law grunted.

"Shut up, Kid. Are you eating shit or what?", the girl on the floor said, scolding Kid.

"No parents and being taken care of by a guardian? Sounds like Batman indeed", Law mumbled with difficulty, receiving the glass of water from Sabo.

The atmosphere in the kitchen grew heavy. Everyone remembered the Trafalgar accident; it was news for a few days, and the only survivor was the eldest son, Trafalgar Law. Post-traumatic stress kept him at home for a few years, where he dedicated himself to studying to continue his parents' legacy. But here he was, incredibly high for the first time.

It had been a series of unfortunate events that led him to that party that day.

But, in short, he wanted to experience a little of what he had missed due to his years at home.

Law banged the glass on the counter in front of him; he felt like he should say some things to this Kid guy, but his head was so confused that he felt, for a moment, like he was somewhere else. "Go... fuck yourself...!", Kid seemed to turn as red as his hair, but Sabo immediately cut both of them off with a laugh.

"You're even funnier like this, Torao!", a voice came from the other side of the kitchen along with a laugh. It was Luffy, one of Law's "friends," a title he didn't really want to call him. "You should get high more often", Luffy tapped his back a few times.

Trafalgar, already annoyed at being so high and also by Kid's well-thought-out comment, seemed to get more irritated by Luffy's presence, who was laughing too loudly for his taste. He pushed himself off the counter and walked awkwardly to the kitchen door, struggling a bit to open it due to its weight, and then staggered down the corridor.

The man staggered, getting lost in the huge house, with no idea what he was doing. The suffocating feeling of not being in control made him want to cry; he felt like he was sleeping, in a senseless, noisy dream. It was too hot, too stuffy, too noisy, too crowded. Moments passed like blurred flashes, too confusing to decipher; until he seemed to "wake up" from his dream.

Law was lying on something soft. He felt a cold breeze hit his body like an uncomfortable embrace. When he finally opened his eyes, the night sky was painted before him, he could hear the sound of the music more clearly now, though a bit more distant compared to the waves of the beach, and amidst the electronic rhythm and the crashing waves, a voice seemed to speak to him.

"I hate working for these spoiled brats, they all think I'm their damn housekeeper and should do whatever they tell me", Law turned his head to see who was talking, finding the same girl from the kitchen, sitting cross-legged with her back to him in the sand, smoking a cigarette angrily. "Damn, I'm here just to serve drinks, not to make the porridge that your housekeeper makes every night before bed!", Law ran his fingers through the sand, feeling the fine grains caress his palm. He heard her venting, but he didn't understand a single word.

She turned around and looked him deep in the eyes before speaking: "You woke up, finally. How do you feel?", she smiled.

"Like I've been run over", he was honest. He still felt out of it, but conscious enough to know what he was doing.

"Huh, wait until tomorrow", she said as Law sat up. He now noticed that she was wearing his coat. "You asked me to call someone named Cora-san, but I couldn't find his contact on your phone", she reached out, handing the device to Law. "Sorry about that."

Law rubbed his eyes, confused. "What... What happened? Where's Sabo?"

"You don't remember, do you?", she smiled, and Law, fearing what he might have done during this blackout, blushed violently. "Don't worry", she laughed. "Sabo carried you to the kitchen to get some water, but then Kid started talking crap and Luffy started annoying you until you left the kitchen. Sabo was going after you, but... I think her name was Koala, she stopped him and started arguing with him. I found you sitting on a couch next to the bathroom...", she stopped, pondering whether she should continue.

Law raised an eyebrow.

"You... were crying. Like, a lot. I brought you some water, but you said you didn't want to drink anymore, and then you started talking...", she sighed. "Anyway, you asked me to call this Cora-san and gave me your phone, and then you said you wanted some fresh air. I brought you here, and you ended up dozing off in the sand".

Law widened his eyes and cringed at the thought of what he might have told her. He didn't remember any of this, which made him want to disbelieve what he might have done, but since there was no other version of this gap in his mind, he just abstained.

"Don't worry, I won't tell anyone anything", she said when she saw his worried face.

"... Thank you", he said, grabbing his phone to check the time; it was almost dawn. He swallowed hard before unlocking the device.

He heard her chuckle softly and looked at the city on the horizon, finishing her cigarette. "Of course".

For some reason, his heart squeezed in his chest. That girl he didn't even know the name of had just helped him in a terrible moment of drunkenness for no reason, and as much as he could easily doubt her word, he trusted that she wouldn't tell anyone about his outburst.

His golden eyes fell on her again, watching her hair being carried by the cold morning breeze. The ever-present melancholy lingered in his mind as he dialed Rosinante's number on his phone; his finger hovered over the call button. "What's your name?".

She paused to think for a moment before answering. "Y/N", she turned her face towards him. The sun had just started to rise, and the sky was a bit brighter now.

He wanted to thank her for helping him, for being so kind to someone she barely knew, for caring enough to stay with him until he woke up; to say that he appreciated what she had done and apologize for causing trouble. But all that came out of his lips was: "Why did you help me?".

And all she replied was: "Because I wanted to."

He mentally slapped himself for sounding so ungrateful, he tried again to thank her, apologize, but she kept talking. "People don't always have a reason for doing what they do..." she seemed to notice the confusion in his eyes. "You were in a vulnerable moment, I couldn't leave you like that", and she gave one of the gentlest smiles Law had ever seen.

He swallowed hard as he remembered Rosinate.

"OOOOIIII, Y/N!", someone shouted in the background, she turned her head to see Kid calling her. "WE'RE LEAVING!!", she got up and brushed the sand off her clothes.

"COMING, JUST A MINUTE!!", she shouted back. "My ride's leaving. Nice to meet you, Law. Don't forget to call Cora-san", she took off the blazer to return it. "Call me if you need anything", then she turned and started running back towards the house, shoes in hand.

"Goodbye...", he said, but then he realized something. "I DON'T HAVE YOUR NUMBER!", he shouted, his eyes filled with the image of the girl now running away.

"YOU THINK!".

Law wanted to shout back, but something clicked in his mind. His fingers touched the screen of his phone to open the "Contacts" app, sliding his finger to find a new contact saved as "Y/N :p".

[ourdreamsareneon]

it's crazy the level of discourse there is about antis/pros and how teenagers just devolve into purity culture so quick. I'm sure I used to be like that, but somewhere between dating gang members and reading copious amounts of philosophy the world became a lot more gray to me when I entered my twenties and I've realised three things that I think are important for teenagers to know:

To quote my favourite childhood book series: "People aren't either wicked or noble. They're like chef's salads, with good things and bad things chopped and mixed together in a vinaigrette of confusion and conflict." Sure, going to car meets, selling drugs, drunk driving, stealing cars, playing chicken with cops are all examples of bad things that you shouldn't do but am I going to sit in my lovers bed and tell him that this life he was born into that saw all his friends die in drive bys and that saw his own dad pull a gun on him when he was a kid makes him a shitty person? Even though I can see all of the good in him, and can tell he doesn't want to do this, I should ignore it and focus on the negatitives? We have all done bad things, we all do bad things, and we all will do bad things. It doesn't make you a bad person.

Purity culture hurts everyone. There's a great book about this called the History of Sexuality that delves into how purity culture and the censorship of sex is at its essence the capitalist authority controlling the means of reproduction. At large scale 'pray the gay away' and 'contraception is a sin' make it so that men and women couple up more (instead of same sex coupling) and have unprotected sex. On a smaller scale 'AO3 is evil because it has pedos' and 'watersports is the grossest thing ever' do the job of the capitalist authority on a more digestible level. Us vs Them no longer is 'alt right vs communism' they use your words to make it 'pure good hobest people vs pedos who like piss play.' you are making bullets for your enemy and handing them your own damn gun. I promised I wouldn't make this whole post this one point tee hee sorry if you want me to elaborate just ask lol

Fetish ≠ real world experience. I'll build my own pyre as an example: I love me some good CNC (consensual non-consent) in my fanfics but in real life sex I have a praise kink so bad I have cried during sex multiple times. I am into tooth rotting sweet stuff and the kindest people in the world in real life. The media you consume 1000% has an effect on you, I'm not arguing that. I am however arguing that if you have media literacy and know what media is and is not harmful to you, it shouldn't effect your real life drastically unless you have other shit going on. I know this is rich coming from the "I have dated people in gangs" guy because that may show what kinda guy I'm into but prommy that's not a sexual attraction thing, it's 100% a lifestyle thing that again I will elaborate on if you want. Point being, porn ≠ reality and what gets that blood flowing isn't necessarily a reflection of how good or bad you are (ofc there are kinds of porn that are bad but that's beside the point and a very complicated thing for me to type while I'm this sleepy)

thank you for coming to my ted talk. pls I am begging on my knees for people to stop having black and white world views but i also know that's just a product of being a teen so if you are a teen pls! go out there and! consume media from different cultures and people with different lives to you! the world is at its best when it is wide!!! and full of love <3

[buckybarnesss]

I just read a Sterek fic where Derek was already a True Alpha before the movie was even a thing that happened. I do not want to be accusatory, but do you have anymore instances of the writers taking ideas from fanfiction? Because there are so many stories where Derek stays an alpha even though the show tried to portray him as an incompetent one, and that seems to be the source of conflict among Scott Stans & Shippers who don't respect Scott. https://archiveofourown.org/works/28209924/chapters/69127125

i'm hesitant and wary to say they copied fanfic because that's really hard to prove and most creator's avoid it for legal reasons. however, given the history of teen wolf's interaction with and use of fandom i wouldn't be surprised if there was at minimum a cursory gander at what were the popular theories amongst fandom.

teen wolf still has an official tumblr after all.

off the top of my head stiles being possessed was a pretty hot idea amongst fandom back in 2012 because there was so much overlap between supernatural and teen wolf fans.

derek being a mechanic was pretty popular amongst au's but i'm sure jeff davis also saw the same photoshoot the rest of us did and probably had the same feelings about it.

derek remaining an alpha or becoming an alpha again is also super popular amongst fandom -- especially sterek fandom -- to this day.

personally, i think jeff always planned for derek to become an alpha again at some point but hoechlin left the show so derek's arc closed with him becoming an evolved werewolf and being triumphant over kate. derek wasn't so much incompetent (despite deaton's view) and more so inexperienced.

the failwolf accusations came from fandom making jokes and than it turning into some kind of ascended meme combined with a lot of fanon flanderization of derek's character.

i think people overlook the aspect of derek's arc where he has to overcome peter's influence over his ideas of power and control just as allison had to overcome gerard and kate's influence on her life. parallels parallels parallels y'all.

scott is a surprisingly divisive topic in fandom and derek and scott's relationship even more-so. it's messy and complicated. they both project a lot of their issues onto each other and it's part of their growth that they gradually overcome this.

i'm someone who likes scott. he's not perfect like some say. he doesn't always get his way like some seem to think. he fails a lot too. scott mccall is a messy bitch and the narrative does show that but like teen wolf's writing isn't the strongest.

it's one thing to not like scott. i can respect that. you're not always going to vibe and click with every character. i do, however, think there are those who do it in bad faith and are just downright rude.

people want to put derek and scott in competition. the only person who ever competed with derek was stiles fucking stilinksi in season 1 when he got in his feelings about derek teaching scott.

but really -- jeff wrote that movie by the seat of his pants because it in no way accounted for the two most central characters to the nogitsune plot wouldn't return. the whole thing waffled without stiles and kira being present. i don't necessarily put the blame on him entirely as i'm sure he was under time constraints by the studio.

you don't do two seasons of your six season show on the importance of stiles stilinski and than be able to have a functional narrative without him. scott mccall as a character doesn't make sense without his other half -- who is not allison.

but i think jeff really meant something with derek making the sacrifice to stop the nogtisune and "dying" in fire on top of the nemeton thereby earning alpha status again. i have theories about it bro.

....i'm also gonna check out that fic, thanks.

[suga-kookiemonster]

Sometimes I see people being curious about the dishwasher shitter and let me tell you how I found out it was a person shitting in a dishwasher:

English is not my first nor second language, it is in fact the third, so when I read sometimes my head goes blank on a few words. For example: the phrase "who shit in the dishwasher?!" In my head I read "who shit in the rhjdndbhrnrbbrhdn?!" Because it's easier or whatever (and they're not very common in my country), sometimes that happens with names, it's very convenient when reading stories, specially smut, because I associate the character without caring about the names and I detach from hurtful plots.

So, I was rereading Ego last year and let me tell you, for some reason I processed for the first time that it was in fact a dishwasher and became extremely disgusted I was immediately on Joon's side, not that I wasn't before, I just saw the disgust for the first time😅😅for some reason my head pictured a washing machine and somehow that was less disgusting because how do you clean that shit? I would never use it again if I lived there and wouldn't associate with anyone that lived there as well because what if there's still poop there? How is it possible to disinfect and trust the process like that?

That being said, it had to be one of them that's fucking with Joon or all of them are in on it so no one snitches when they see because there's no way no one caught the person in the act.

I think I never saw you answer this before, but I didn't follow you when you started posting Ego, what prompted the fic to be written? I think there are a few fics that came from specific pictures of Tae, but I was curious to know what prompted the baby angel Kookie to grace us with his exhibitionist ass🥺

Anyway, I'm waiting patiently for Kook's new fic💕💕💕💕💕

first of all, you are the coolest for speaking 3 languages 😮‍💨 i am in AWE!!💕 secondly, your commentary is hilarious and it never crossed my mind when i was writing the fic that dishwashers aren't necessarily a universal thing 🤣 though fraternities are distinctly american, so i guess that would automatically set the lens the fic is read through. in any case, thank you for validating ego!joon, though i think we all are definitely on his side on that topic 😂😂

to answer your question on why i originally wrote the fic, ego was the first bts fic i ever wrote, and i started it right around the time i first found bangtan in 2017 and my obsession with the group was going full force LOL. i've been in fandom spaces for most of my life, and once i have a new obsession, my first task always seems to be to check out the fanfic and see what's up. i read a number of fics i loved and some others that weren't my cup of tea, but what really made me want to join in was that nearly all of the second-person writing (which i had never seen done before in fanfiction) was obviously written from the perspective of a white person. i, as you know, am not white, and there were only so many times i could read about "my" face flushing red and running my hands through "my" hair before i started to wonder if this new fandom i had found actually wasn't very happy about me (or others who look like me) interacting with the content. so, i simply said fuck it and decided to write my own "reader-insert" fic that i could actually insert myself into!

at the time, i was intrigued by irl jungkook's duality--he's such a shy sweetheart, but he certainly knew how to burn up the stage! and this idea floated into my mind where you accidentally walk in on sweet, shy jungkookie railing another girl, and though he sees you watching, he doesn't stop. so, that scene in the first chapter was the genesis for the fic, and everything else spiraled from there! the characters kinda created themselves as i wrote them, and though i obviously had a broad outline of the fic before i started writing it, a lot of the shenanigans popped up while i wrote each chapter. it was a lot of fun! haha

anyways, thank you so much for asking 💜 i can't believe it's been that long since i started writing ego, and that certainly took me back 🥹💕 i appreciate you, and thanks for looking forward to my next fic!

[ambrossart]

I was wondering how you created Víctor Criss so well? ,

especially their way of being and their personality because I feel that there is more information about Patrick and Henry, data about their family and dialogues that show at a glance what they are like. In addition, those two are very striking characters that steal all the attention and make them stand out. easily due to its peculiarities.

On the other hand, there are not many things about Victor and during the movie Victor and Belch are one of the characters that are least shown, but it is true that in the novel there were very interesting descriptive fragments about him that left you a lot to reflect on how during the rock fight, so I was wondering that with the brief information about him, how you have done to decide what Victor would be like, I don't know how to explain it but Henry and Patricio are so canon and yet Victor is not, I have read several fanfics in the This character comes out and changes so drastically in each of them in every way, he is a shy and lovable boy or he is a bad boy among other things and on the other hand your character is the perfect balance so I was wondering how you have done to Being able to decide what traits characterize him as a character, what things Victor would do and what he wouldn't do, what scares him or not, what things he would say and what he wouldn't,

I feel that it is

A great character is as if you had filled in the blank spaces as if you had finished writing it completely, it is as if he were a drawing whose sketch is in black and white and you have given it color, you are great 😊

I actually love that there's so little info about Vic because it gave me a lot of flexibility while developing his character. And that’s why I’m so happy that he’s been received as well as he has. I worked very hard on my interpretation of him.

Honestly, the rock fight in the novel is what completely sold me on Victor and made me love him as a character. He didn't want to be there. He didn't have any emotional investment in that fight. But since he was stuck there, he figured he might as well do some damage. I love that, and I tried to keep that scene in mind while shaping his character.

With Paper Men, Vic's character developed organically chapter by chapter. I've said this many times before, but I wasn't intending for him to be a major character, and I was really struggling to find roles for both him and Reggie because, as you said, there's so little information about them. With Reggie, I decided to have him be Henry's closest friend (because that made the most sense to me), but I had no idea what to do with Vic. Initially, he was just supposed to be a classmate of Evelyn's, but then I became randomly obsessed with the image of Evelyn smacking him in the back of the head (like she does in Ch. 4) and I decided to run with it. I thought, okay, maybe they're not just classmates; maybe they're childhood friends, but that was too simple, so I thought, okay, maybe they were friends but they haven't spoken to each other in a while, and now they're slowly starting to rekindle their friendship. From there, I started to explore the reasons why they weren't friends anymore, and that eventually led to Jimmy. And I think once I had Jimmy figured out, I had a pretty clear idea of who I wanted Vic to be in this story.

And so the introverted, guilt-ridden, self-loathing, stoner was born! 😂

In the novel, Vic appears to be more intelligent than the other members of the gang, so I wanted him to be good at school but not necessarily the academic type. Vic is naturally very smart, but he's also unmotivated and afraid of failure, so he doesn't try very hard to challenge himself academically. If he doesn't strive for success, then there's no risk of disappointing anyone... including himself.

In the movie, Vic hardly has any lines, so I knew I wanted him to be the quiet type, but I didn't want him to be just another shy boy because that doesn't fit the Bowers Gang. That's a little too cute. Instead, I wanted to approach it more like Vic is an introvert who gets extremely exhausted talking to people, especially stupid people like he encounters every day at school. Socializing is a serious challenge for him, but he doesn’t want people to know he struggles with it. Vic would rather be seen as a moody, aloof asshole than someone who’s socially awkward or anxious in any way (because that would make him a target for bullying; he learned this at a young age). I have no idea why I made him a stoner, but it seemed to fit, and once again, I just ran with it. He self-medicates with weed and occasionally alcohol to dull himself and ease his anxiety. Makes sense, doesn't it?

I’m sorry, I never know how to answer these questions. I feel like Vic was a happy accident. I started off with a few random traits and just kept building off those chapter by chapter. That's pretty much what I do with everyone, which is why all the characters tend to get more complex as the story goes on. It's like peeling an onion.

Okay, I'm rambling. I'll stop now.

[recurring-polynya]

I know you’re on team renruki all the way (I am too!) but I was curious if you had other characters in mind who you’d think would match up well with renji romantically. Kind of like a backup ship? :)

I used to have a lowkey fondness of Renji/Orihime, primarily because they are both people who put everyone before themselves, and that's a ship dynamic that's very appealing to me. I sometimes think that if Renruki had not been canon, I might have gone deeper down this rabbithole, altho I think it more likely that I probably just wouldn't have ended up writing any Bleach fanfic at all. (I did write one, ages ago). Since that time, however, I have written so much Renruki fanfic that focuses on the depth and breadth of their relationship to the point where nothing else comes close for me. I have also enjoyed the occasional RenIchi content (not so much b/c I'm into it, but because the RenIchi people are really talented), but I always get the same hang-up of it's just not Renruki. I used to have more tolerance for non-Rukia Renji ships, but I've gotten less flexible about it over time, I guess.

That being said, I often enjoy seeing Renji get paired up with other people in non-endgame ways. He's an easygoing guy and fun to be around and also really good looking, so I don't think he lacked for companionship during his separation from Rukia. (Note: I don't think either of them were celibate during that time, and I don't regard this as being "unfaithful." It was 40 years, Renji had no idea if his plans were ever going to pay off, and they are both pragmatists.) At the same time, I think there's this level at which he is just not emotionally available, because he's still hung up on her. I actually think that it is the nature of Soul Society that relationships are ephemeral by default. Shinigami live until they get killed, which could be a really, really, really long time, and marriage and children aren't necessarily the goal unless you're in the succession line of a noble family. It's funny to think about, to me, the idea of dating someone for a couple of hundred years, but not really be serious about it. It lasts while it lasts, y'know?

Anyway, here are some Renji-hookup scenarios I enjoy, in order of how much I enjoy them. (if you're wondering why there are no captains on this list, it's because power-imbalances in relationships are a huge turn-off to me)

Shuuhei. Extremely Renji's type. Also very easy-going and a good friend. Shuuhei has baggage, sure, but the Rukia-thing doesn't particularly intersect with any of his own baggage. Just two hot guys, drinking, smooching, writing copy for the Seireitei Comm and tooling around on the motorbike.

Nanao. I think he would be really into the sexy librarian thing she has going on. I think she would appreciate that he has more going on in the brains department than it would appear. The fact that he's hung up on an old flame is fine, since she's cursed to kill anyone she marries. They have incredibly hot sex. Truly spectacular.

Rangiku, but strictly friends-with-benefits. The benefits are really good tho.

I am not immune to a really angsty fanfic where he hooks up with Momo.

I think that in his Squad 11 baby days, he had the most gruesome crush one person has ever had on another on Ikkaku (who is 1000% taken, which might be Part of It). I hope you just full-body shuddered. I'm obsessed with this, though, sorry, not sorry.

I read a fanfic once that was really pre-relationship IkkaYumi, but there was an extended period of Yumichika and Renji hooking up and I think about this more than I should??

Akon. Why not? His horns are cute.

Because it feels like an omission, I want to say for the record that I wish all the love to the Izuru/Renji shippers, but I am not for it, because I think their mental unwellnesses intersect in a way that makes them really great and supportive as friends but would turn bad quick in an intimate relationship. (I realize one could spin this for the angst, but this is not the kind of angst I enjoy)