#like they live in my mind rent free and this just gives me the opportunity to talk about them even more

[averagetangerineenjoyer]

Scullery Maid

INFO: Tangerine x feminine!reader, domestic fluff, approx. 1k words

A/N: he has bewitched me!! he's living in my mind rent-free and I can't get him to leave!!! 😩 also YES this was inspired by the "honey where's my super suit?" scene from the incredibles (will gladly write more for tangerine and wife btw)

Find my masterpost here!

Your husband likes to refer to you as his “trophy wife”.

It’s a term of endearment, mostly. He loves nothing more than showing you off any opportunity he gets, not just waxing poetic about how gorgeous you are, but also praising your achievements and your brilliance to the high heavens.

He likes to spoil you as if you were a real trophy wife, too. He’s often away for work, but always comes home with flowers and other gifts. Your walk-in closet has a whole section dedicated to luxury bags that have only been taken out to wear once or twice. You have more jewellery than you know what to do with. Your shoe collection looks like it belongs to a millipede with an expensive taste.

(Sometimes you think your husband is a bit like a bird, bringing home fancy trinkets just to impress his lady.)

With the plush life you’re living, only working because you want to, you might have most people fooled that you were really a trophy wife. But trophy wives don’t spend their Saturdays washing blood out of their husbands’ suits, you think.

You don’t feel like a trophy wife with the sleeves of your sweater rolled up to your elbows. Feet shoved into faded Momonga house slippers. Glasses on and unwashed hair pulled back into a messy bun. Not a “messy-but-cute” bun. No, just messy. You feel more like a glorified maid.

You run the shirt under cold water, but the blood is dark, old, and crusted. Silently you pray that the hydrogen peroxide will do its work. If you can’t manage to get the stain out, you’re going to have to take it to the dry cleaner. You’re always rotating through the ones you visit: you don’t want them to start asking questions if you bring in the fifth bloodstained shirt that month.

From somewhere else in the house, you hear your husband call out your name.

“Over here!”

Padded footsteps on the hardwood floor make their way over. He quickly appears in the doorway to the scullery while fixing the cufflinks on his pristine white shirt. You turn off the faucet, leaning against the edge of the sink with your hip as his soaked button-down lay crumpled within the basin. His hair is wet and slicked back. He just got out of the shower. “Do you know where my red Cesare Attolini suit is?”

You give him a blank stare. “What?”

“The red one, love.”

You rub the bridge of your nose, slightly lifting your glasses, eyes screwing shut with a frown as you try to remember. (As if you even know which suit he’s talking about.) “Uh… I think it’s at the dry cleaner’s?”

He blinks. “Which one?”

“Baby, I’m not keeping track of every suit you own,” you tell him as you fix your glasses on your face, not even trying to hide your exasperation.

He puts his hands up defensively. “Just asking. I’m packing for Tokyo.”

You sigh inwardly. Tokyo. It’s a “business” trip, of course. Crossing your arms, you slightly tilt your head to the side and ask, “What time’s your flight?”

“At ass o’clock in the morning,” he grumbles, mirroring your stance. Your husband still hasn’t crossed the threshold onto the tile floor of the scullery. Likely because he doesn’t want his West Ham socks to get wet. He clears his throat and shakes his head. “It’s at 3.30, I’ll go pick up my brother around 2.”

“Early dinner and early to bed, then?” you ask, crossing the distance between you and meeting him at the doorway instead.

He smiles, the corners of his eyes crinkling. “Sounds perfect.”

You already know that he’s not going to get much sleep before his flight. You’ve seen this routine play out more times than you care to count. But you don’t say anything, instead choosing to enjoy the moment while you can. Reaching out to fix the collar of his shirt, you ask, “Did you settle on names for the job?”

His face lights up. “I did. I’m Tangerine, my brother is Lemon.”

It’s hard to suppress the snort. So you don’t. “What, like the fruit?”

“Yeah. Tangerines are sophisticated. And my brother is sour, like a lemon.”

A recent memory crosses your mind and you place your hands flat on his chest. “Did you pick “Tangerine” because of Lunar New Year?”

He casts his eyes to the side, the way he does when he’s about to lie. “No.”

“Right.” You don’t have the energy to tease him about it, but you take enough satisfaction in knowing that he would get riled up if you did. Instead, you nod and give him a smile. "I like it," you say before leaning in to kiss him. “It’s cute.” You taste the mint toothpaste on his breath and feel his arms wrap around you.

He hums into the kiss. “Always happy to win the approval of my beautiful wife.”

Only your husband — known as Tangerine, for now — would look at you in your current state and still want to carry you off to the bedroom. With a low and sultry voice, you whisper to him, “You know how you could win even more of my approval?”

A hand moves to give your butt a playful squeeze, and he’s already kissing the underside of your jaw. “Enlighten me, love,” he murmurs against your skin.

“Buy me Momonga merch when you’re in Japan.”

Tangerine pulls away with a disappointed look on his face.

“There’s this limited edition plushie that’s sooo cute. They don’t sell it anywhere else, I already checked. Please, baby? Pretty please?”

He sighs. “Yeah. Yeah, sure, of course. Whatever.”

You grin, knowing you’re getting a suitcase full of Momonga merchandise when he’s back. You put your arms around his shoulders. “Good.” You give him a peck on the lips. “Were you done packing? There’s something super important we still have to do.”

“And that is?”

“I think we need to test our new mattress again before you go. You know, just to be sure.”

“You’re right. That is super important.”

While you let Tangerine practically drag you to the bedroom, you vaguely remember that you left his shirt in the sink. Ah well. That’s a problem for later.

[piratefalls]

i'm back! between work and trying to write my first fic for this fandom i've been falling really behind on reading, so for now these are going to be a more bi-weekly occurrence than weekly. in any event, there's truly a little bit here for everyone, so enjoy this week's mix of a+ works!

masterlist

you and me, babe, how about it? by @myheartalivewrites

Alex sits in the back of their Secret Service approved, PPO driven Land Rover, excitement thrumming through his body. The leather squeaks as he fidgets incessantly; his skin burns where Kieran’s shoulder is pressed into his, despite the layers of fabric between them. On the other side of Kieran, he can see Henry’s fingers twitch on top of his own knee, playing an imaginary piano, flicking out and squeezing in before releasing and starting again. Like he’s so fucking desperate to reach out and touch the leg next to his he’s having to muster up all of his self-control, draw on all the years of keeping himself restrained, just to not start things too soon. Alex can’t believe they’re actually, finally, doing this.

you know i can't be found with you by stutteringpeach

“He’s cute,” Alex declares on the first day of class. Liam doesn’t even bother to look up from his laptop. “Uh huh.” “The professor.” Liam makes a non-committal noise. “I’m gonna fuck him.”

Longer Than Most by happinessofthepursuit

“Oh,” Alex says. “Sick.” Henry can’t help but grin. He can’t believe he’s so bloody gone on a man who says sick and dude, who he’s slept with all of one time and proceeded to knock him up. Henry’s a cliche, honestly. “It is, indeed, sick, as you say.” Alex rolls his eyes, but his cheeks darken a shade, giving him away a bit. “Listen, the closest I get to poetry is your fucking face. Excuse me if my vocabulary doesn’t quite compare to yours.” Or, Alex and Henry have a one night stand. That is, until a baby’s involved.

Baby (Let Me Put On a Show) by SatinBirds

It’s been five months, and still Alex is never completely prepared for Henry’s performances. Private or otherwise. Or, Henry is a night dancer, and he’s everything Alex wants.

Sun Salutations (Waif for Me) by @duchessdepolignaca03

He repeats the movement five or six times, his body heating up with each repetition, loosening the hangovers’ grip on him through very effective breathwork. Wanting to open up his hips a little bit more, he settles into a wide-legged forward fold. He holds the pose, enjoying the delicious stretch on his lower back and virtually all the muscles of his lower body. Then he just about jumps out of his skin when he hears, “Mmm, breakfast is served.” Or: Alex parties hard on a Thursday night and has some deliciously anonymous sex with the glittery blond he calls Waif. When he wakes to do his naked sun salutations, he learns that Waif is a very, very hungry, 'temporarily unhoused' boy whom Alex quickly invites to live rent-free in his head.

secret, scars, and trust by viciouslyqueer

He trails off and Henry takes the opportunity to cup his cheek, gently swiping his thumb over the smooth skin. “Hey. We don’t have to do anything. We can stop right now if you want to, or cuddle for a while. I can put on a movie if you’d like. I don’t mind either way.” Alex’s smile grows and he leans into the touch, pecking Henry’s lips again. “Thanks, baby,” he murmurs, and Henry has to fight the urge to react at the pet name. “But it’s not that. I want to keep going, if you want it, too. I just have to tell you something before, okay?”

make it five by anincompletelist

“Fifty bucks says I can get that guy’s number.” Popping the bubble of cinnamon-flavored gum Alex had just blown, he glances up from his phone to look at where Nora’s pointing. Just over the soles of his shoes, crossed at the ankles and propped on the flaking black wood of the shop’s front desk, there’s a man with broad shoulders lingering by the far wall. Alex hadn’t even heard the guy come in. “Nora. He’s literally looking at one of the biggest dildos I’ve ever seen,” he deadpans quietly. + alex works at a sex toy shop. it's usually a pretty easy job — if he could just stop daydreaming about the blonde guy that keeps coming in to buy literally all of alex's favorite sex toys.

talk by smc_27

Henry records himself for an audio erotica app. Alex finds it. And listens.

Got a ticket for two by clottedcreamfudge

Henry likes his apartment - he has done since the day he moved in a year ago. The light in the sitting room is gorgeous at all times of day thanks to the ceiling to floor windows which lead out onto a south-facing balcony, only just large enough for the plethora of plantlife his flatmates care for. The kitchen is always stocked with his favourite tea, everyone keeps to their allotted cupboard and fridge space, and the bathrooms are kept meticulously clean. There's a rota for chores stuck to the fridge with magnets from Rhode Island and Minnesota, London and Milan, with everything typed up neatly so that nobody has to squint to read someone else's awful handwriting. His flatmates themselves? Well, they're a little… strange.

Far Away From the One That I Love by allmylovesatonce

It's been an agonizing two months of Henry being in London and Alex being in New York. When an opportunity to finally be reunited with Henry comes his way, Alex jumps on it. But things don't go quite how they expected after so much time away.

If We're Caught in a Wage (I Will Carry You Over) by @sparklepocalypse

There it is, up ahead – the small island just offshore, with Alex’s favorite broad, flat stone outcropping, perfect for sunning himself in seclusion. He splashes into the shallows and dives in when the water’s up to his knees, and it’s a matter of maybe a minute’s swim to reach the island. Alex finds his footing among the sand and pebbles, pulls himself upright, and shakes the water out of his hair, then pushes it back from his face. He can practically hear the outcropping calling to him -- you know, if inanimate rock could speak. Alex stretches, his mid-back satisfyingly popping, and then skirts his way between some larger rocks until his sunning rock is in view. Except – there’s someone already on the outcropping, their short blond hair shimmering in the sunshine, the upper slant of their shoulders visible from where Alex is standing. (Movie or Bookverse AU; Alex rents a remote beach house and Henry is a cecaelia.)

Protect Your Solitude by graceofgrayskull

At the 2016 Rio Olympics, Alex stumbles onto Prince Henry crying in a storage closet and is forced to rewrite his perception of their first meeting.

Out For A Bite by everwitch

Henry's eyes fly up, zeroing in on the reflection in the mirror. There, behind him. The man from the bar. He looks different in the fluorescent bathroom lights. Sharper. There’s a look in his eyes that has Henry shivering all over again. It's greedy. Hungry. He’s staring right at Henry. Henry's throat feels dry. His heart beats madly. He's heard whispers of this place, and more importantly of its patrons. He thinks he knows what this man is.

each time we touch / i wanna take too much by @firenati0n

my fingers slipped and now there are fingers in mouths. wrote this in one sitting at 5am today. please forgive any egregious errors, i wrote it without my glasses on and on no sleep lol. hope you like it. <3 title from New Girl by FINNEAS

you took the time to memorize me (my fears, my hopes, my dreams) by coffeecatsme

The tour guide has a small bisexual flag pinned to his chest, right next to where his name is scrawled in big, bold letters. Alex, it reads; simple, to the point. The name tag rests on a red and black flannel, and underneath is a white t-shirt with Georgetown’s name stretched on the front, reminding Henry ever so starkly that he’s thousands of miles away from what he calls home. The flannel stretches over broad shoulders leading up to a strong jaw, all in contrast with the bright, dimpled grin stretched over a beautiful face. Henry thinks there isn't a place on the world far enough away from his grandmother to escape her clutches - even after transferring to Georgetown. Then, his tour guide extends a helping hand and shows him otherwise. Or, 5 steps Alex and Henry take to memorize each other and 1 time they realize they already do.

Praise & Supplication by NoCoastPosts

Alex is always moving, always going, always seeking. He is defiance and brashness tinged with anxiety, but not in these moments. Henry pins him down with a gaze as heavy as his touch, and all of Alex’s motions cease. He is calm, he is obedient, he is pliable. He knows he’ll be broken apart piece by piece, sending waves of heat deep into his core. or When Alex gets stuck in his head, Henry helps him let go.

Another Door Opens by 14carrotgold

Henry takes a long drink. “If it makes you feel any better, my dad's dead. He and my mum had the type of love straight from the storybooks and it got cut tragically short, so what is the point in finding something real if it's just going to hurt you?” Alex bites back a smile and shakes his head. “How in the fuck was that supposed to make me feel better?” He waves his hand awkwardly. “Oh, I just thought we were both sharing the trauma that impacted our romantic relationships.” - Henry and Alex first meet when Henry reveals their partners are cheating on them with each other.

Fifteen Hours Till Forever by inexplicablymine

“I would say that in this life, we aren’t granted many chances at true happiness, at the unadulterated freedom and joy that comes to the lucky ones. I would say that I know right now only fifteen feet apart, fifteen hours till forever, and somehow the universe has decided I ought to be one of the luckiest there are.” “But tomorrow,” he continues, “when we are saying our vows, when we are promising ourselves to one another forever, I want you to look me in the eyes and know that you are it for me.”  OR The year is 2025, and the world doesn't know they are getting married. 

home by rizcriz

For a moment he fears Henry’s been outed against his will somehow, but he scrolls down to find a video clip. Unable to trust himself to watch the video, he scrolls a little further to read the transcript. He learns that Henry had come out during a ribbon cutting, of all things. He’d stood in front of a crowd of a couple hundred people gathered for the opening of a new youth shelter, and he’d told his truth. Alex is tempted to watch the video, to examine his body language to see if it was planned or not, but he reads further and one sentence stands out to tell him it wasn’t. There is no comment yet from Buckingham Palace. -- or, six months after Henry rejected Alex at Kensington Palace.

The Way of Things by writerkenna

Henry and Alex have been very much enjoying the life they’ve managed to carve out for themselves. They’ve had to compromise and work and change to maintain it, but it’s worth it. Henry finds himself pregnant, though, and everything they’ve built starts to turn on its head. as always, let me know if you want to be tagged either because you're a writer or a reader (or both!) and i'll see you next time!

My life is a cosmic joke and you're not a real person by lizzie_bennetdarcy

Alex plans to be a lot of firsts in the world. But this absolutely isn't the kind of first he was thinking. He stares wide-eyed into the mirror at the letters on his shoulder while June whines to be let in. Alex finally unlocks the door and June bursts through. “Show me!” Wordlessly, Alex turns to show her his back. "What the actual fuck?" June exclaims, then claps a hand over her mouth. "Sorry, that was rude, but — is it more than one person?" Or: Five times Alex doesn't find his soulmate, and one time he does

tagging: @starkfridays @stilesgivesmefeels @midnightsfp @sarahjswift omg i feel like i'm missing someone

[thatsthewrongwallcraig]

hi i came across your post asking people to talk to you about karl heisenberg so i decided to send in an ask because i absolutely cannot be normal about that man in any way shape or form at all he rotates in my brain 24/7 and refuses to get out

plplsplspls list down some of your hcs for him :33

You and me both, you and me both, don't worry 🤝🏻 I have him living rent free up there since I put my eyes on him and now he won't leave, instead he's wreaking havoc where perfectly normal and content thoughts should be 😭

Thank you so much for sending the ask! 🫶🏻

Karl Heisenberg HCs under the cut since their NSFW 🔞 (gender neutral)

I'll write a SFW Head Canon post later!

🛠 So, what's the first thing that comes to mind when looking at Kar Heisenberg, hm? Yes, exactly: "Damn, Daddy!" but as mighty fine as this is, how about we flip that table upside down and consider Karl with a mommy kink? There is something about the thought of consensually slapping that mountain of a man around and calling him a bad and naughty boy that makes my brain rot so fast 🥴 Depending on how complex of a topic this wants to be fleshed out as, one can always sprinkle some trauma into the mix because both mommy and daddy issues can very much stem from painfully real places and I imagine that Karl as quite a lot of that.

🛠 I like to believe that Karl has a surreal amount of patience, nerves of steel, but only when it comes to a few things in particular. One of them being you propped up in his lap with his cock buried inside you up to the shaft, neither of you making any hectic movements as you cock-warm him while he welds together scraps of metal in his workshop. He can do that for hours if he feels like it, enjoying the engulfing warmth of your body whilst sparks fly through the somewhat damp air of the factory, strangely enough helps him concentrate and be precise for neither sparks nor hot metal to get anywhere close to you.

🛠 Dad-Bod. That's it. Send Tweet. No, but really, I'm drop dead serious about it and will die with my face pressed to that squishy soft belly pooch and my hands clasping at his glorious man-tits. You know what Dad-Bod Karl Heisenberg gets you? So much cuddle-material 😌 And in instances during which you don't peacefully fall asleep wrapped in his arms, he muffles your moans and whines with his chest, just shoving your face into the soft and warm skin.

🛠 In my brain, Karl is a giver. Sure, he might take you whenever the mood strikes, that simply cones with the package, but never without giving equal quantities of affection back. If he'd be out for one-sided sex, he could just as well shove his cock into one of his brainless creations. Karl would make you feel wanted and desired with every opportunity he'd get because he knows how it feels to be left behind, an outcast, and he'd never want you to feel this way especially not around him, ever.

🛠 Intoxication kink, my friends 🙏🏻 Okay, listen, as aforementioned, Kar is a giver and somewhere deep deep down he carries the need to care and nurture. Sometimes it's get so overwhelmingly much that he just has to take matters into his own hands, okay? Fucking you up nicely under his supervision so that you don't go off the rails too hard.

🛠 I believe Karl to be somewhat possessive and very physical about you. Hos fingers are always lingering, sometimes at your waist, sometimes ghosting over the round of your ass and other times lovingly clasping around your throat. Same goes for his lips and teeth. One could say that Lord Heisenberg has a hefty oral fixation that can't be soothed by cigars alone. He'd suck and nibble at your fingers and nipples without hesitation.

🛠 Last but not least, you know how it goes: Save a horse... 🤠

[this-acuteneurosis]

One thing I will never understand is your other readers obsession with people finding out Leia is from the future and/or related to Padmé/Anakin. As far as I'm conerned, the entire story could progress with that secret never coming out and I would be perfectly happy. Enough of my rambling. Keep up the good work! Angst Gremlin Leia lives rent free in my mind...

I've thought about this a lot as questions about the reveal have come and gone at various points in the story. I'm getting a fewer of them these days, but at this point, I think I understand the impulse. My guess is the motive is generally one of two things, one more conscious than the other.

Firstly, I think people are just excited by the idea of the emotions and the drama. Even a vague reveal gives an opportunity for people to be heartbroken on Leia's behalf, patting her on the back or hugging her and consoling her. A specific reveal of things like who she's related to, how and when people died: there's just so much juicy drama in there, so many agonizing feelings to enjoy. And as a writer who pretty good an dragging out the angst in general, I think people get excited with the idea that I would really dip into the pit of misery, that I would draw deeply from that well of agony and make all the characters chug that bitter water. I can see the appeal of this kind of emotionality, but I've also obviously managed to find plenty of misery to slosh around without going that far. Still, I can understand the craving.

Partly because I think the first matter flows into part two, which is catharsis. Some of that is just emotional. Yes, everyone wants the agony of Anakin (let's be real, it's mostly Anakin) realizing the depths of darkness that Leia experienced with Vader. But there's also the payoff on the other side of that. The closeness that could come on the other side. And I think it's assumed that's what would happen because that's sort of the nature of Leia's arc that I've set up. The story begins not with politics, but with Leia's grief. It's not just a background motif. It's a persistent theme, and a character arc that is deeply important to the story. If Don't Look Back ends without clearly showing Leia moving past some stage of her grief, into a happier future, I'll basically have failed as an author. Since Leia's relationship with Anakin is so fraught because of her history with Vader, and since her grief means she aggressively keeps secrets to maintain control, it's pretty reasonable that there are people that assume a plot resolution of this arc will include her revealing the truth to someone. Maybe even many someones. It would be one pretty tangible way to show that growth.

All of their speculation aside, I've got a much better idea at this point of how much Leia is eventually going to reveal, to whom, and when. She may yet surprise me, but I'm much more settled in the beats of the arc of her grief specifically. And I've known pretty much since the beginning how this story was going to end. So everyone will just have to wait and see where we land.

[eddiemunsonhotgf]

Jus' sum modern eddie being cute plz if ur feeling it, love ur page sm 💗 🥺

cutesy modern!eddie lives in my mind rent free :,(

first of all he would put you as his lockscreen, his pfp pic on instagram and would NEVER !! never ever stop talking ab you to his friends, on social media ... etc. he needs everyone to know how much of a lucky man he is !!

he loves texting you whenever he's on tour with his band. usually all he does is tell you how badly he wants to cover you in lots of kissies once he gets back home and cuddle you for the rest of his lifetime.

if you're both going out shopping and he catches you staring at something for too long (per example: a lipgloss, blush ...) he would take a photo of it and use it as a resource so he knows how to give you the best gifts ever !!!!

whenever you're both kissing he loves holding your face because he's just sweet like that :( let's keep in mind his love language is definitely physical contact so if he has any chance of holding you, he's not letting that opportunity go to waste !

you and him may not share musical tastes but he loves sending you playlists with titles such as "for my princess" that he plays whenever you and him are inside the van (on a road trip) that has a really eclectic mix of genres. pop, indie, rock, metal... your music taste and his combined are, as he says, the perfect mixture (even though he absolutely despises that skimpy beat all pop songs have)

he's always calling you petnames and praising you; you're here with me now so there's no need to worry okay princess? love you, you did so well for me, i love you, baby.

[a-magical-evening]

I was thinking about my ask about Matt and Trey hugging and it kinda does seem like Matt is deliberately avoiding hugging Trey. This is just a guess, I don't really have any info to support this hypothesis. But maybe Trey doesn't like hugging people in general?? Has he hugged someone else before?? I really don't know.

There's a huge chance I'm wrong but maybe Trey doesn't like being hugged so Matt is just respecting his personal space?? It would honestly give more context why Matt gave Trey an air hug instead of walking up to him and hugging him. The hug from Baseketball could be an exception and just him acting. But in social situations he doesn't like it.

I donno do you think this theory has any truth to it?

Ooh, hello again 😊 That’s an interesting theory, and it’s had me pondering all morning! (No worries RE: guessing, providing evidence. It’s fun to think about these things, and look for patterns, especially when we recognise that it’s all speculation.)

First, I’m not sure if Matt’s deliberately avoiding hugging Trey, though I must admit it does appear that way, and if the reason is he’s respecting Trey’s boundaries, I’m totally on board with that. However, there may not have been many opportunities for a genuine hug between them to be captured on film.

A few things come to mind that might contribute to not having visuals of M&T hugs:

Men often aren’t huggers 🤷‍♀️ That could be a sweeping statement, skewed through my cultural lens as a Brit, but at least in my experience, guys don’t hug that much.

The times we get to see M&T are often red carpets, appearances, interviews, documentaries, etc., and those aren’t really conducive to hugging. They wouldn’t hug in greeting, for example, if they’d already hung out backstage or spent the whole day together already. Those types of hugs all probably occur “off camera.”

We’ve got pics of them (most likely) drunk hugging/grabbing each other, so it’s not something they won’t do, but that could further support that hugging doesn’t really come up that often for them in their public appearances.

That being said, other forms of physical touch don’t seem to be off the table for them. As I mentioned in the hug post, they often rest their head on or put their arms around each other, which might contradict the theory that Trey doesn't like being touched.

Related: @behind-the-blow pointed out a moment (that I can't find right now, argh!!) in which Matt touches Trey’s arm as they’re walking onstage to accept an award. It might've been awkward if they’d walked up there and just hugged each other, but Matt's touch conveyed so much while also taking into account that they’re stood before a massive audience.

I feel it’s worth considering too how M&T get physically close with others (besides their partners and children, where hugs are probably a given.) John Stamos immediately comes to mind! I know next to nothing about this man, but he seems to exhibit some sort of gravitational pull that makes Matt and Trey more open to physical proximity. Perhaps that’s just how John is, so it rubs off on those around him. That gives weight to your theory that Trey might not like hugging in general, if it takes someone who's openly tactile to get him into that mindset.

I mean, look at this guy’s power!

There’s also this lovely pic of Trey with Andrew Rannells that lives in my head rent free.

It reminds me so much of how Trey cuddles up to Matt in some pictures. It’s physically quite intimate, but again, perhaps not as much as a hug is.

Again, I’ve rambled on 😅, but I definitely think there could be truth in your theory. I could also believe Matt isn’t into hugging, Trey isn’t, or neither of them are, or it's simply not something they’re comfortable doing in public, or it just doesn't come up very often. Either way, it'd make my life if we did get footage of them hugging!!! I've got my fingers crossed we'll get something like that in the upcoming Casa Bonita documentary!! 🕯️🕯️🕯️

[slveepyscwrs]

You want ACTUALLY obscure ship dynamics inspired by small fandoms WITH prompts for each of them to help you write? I got you bestie:

I get the frustration. You want to explore a new ship dynamic to practice your romance writing skills, but you can't find anything aside from the same old.

If that sounds like something you struggle with, here are some ship dynamics that are criminally underused because I've either seen it in a fandom that's teeny-tiny, or I thought of them myself and I haven't been able to see it anywhere.

(Disclaimer: Some of these MIGHT be slightly popular already, so don't go saying "erm actually I've already seen this trope used a bunch of times." I'm not saying that these ideas haven't been used at all, I'm just saying that their popularity is very less compared to some other tropes. I'm also not trying to judge anyone who likes popular tropes.)

Be sure to tag me if you use any of the prompts included here!

Teacher x Teacher. Blame Mr. Ajayi x Mr. Farouk from Heartstopper for my obsession with this. I know, Heartstopper itself isn't a small fandom, but this shipping trope is. Student x Student has already been done a gazillion times. Student x Teacher... uh... not everyone's cup of tea. Teacher x Teacher has a lot of opportunities for fluff and angst, and is also good practice for writing older characters.

(+ Bonus Points if the students notice and try to get them together and/or just sit there confused because how the hell did we get here?)

Prompt Ideas:

"It's 10:00 P.M., and you're still grading tests? Nope, I'll handle them, and you need to go home and rest."

"This is the third time this week that you've been crying in the teacher's lounge. That's it, tell me the names of the kids that I need to give a piece of my mind and extra homework to."

2. Childhood Enemies to Lovers. Before you say, "Wouldn't that just count as enemies to lovers?," the vast majority of enemies to lovers that I've seen involve A and B meeting when they're already teens/young adults.

We love childhood friends to lovers. We love enemies to lovers. Why not have both?

The media that I got this trope from is a BL drama called "We Best Love." If I gushed about how much I love this series and how it lives rent-free in my head, this post would last forever.

(+ Bonus Points If they realise that they never really actually hated each other, it was just a silent lie they were telling each other throughout their childhood.)

Prompt Ideas:

"You couldn't even let me have the slide for five seconds when we were kids. Why are you doing all this for me only now?"

"Wait, don't tell me you're still holding grudges from when we were literally in diapers?"

3. Okay guys today we've gathered to come up with a plan to get these two gosh darn idiots together. I don't really know how to describe it other than that. I also don't recall seeing it any of my fandoms, mostly from my OC stories.

However, I don't know if it's just me, but I LOVE seeing the ship's friends getting involved in having the ship sail successfully. We Stan supportive friends, and the comedy that comes with such situations is a surefire way to keep readers hooked.

(+Bonus Points if two of the friends slowly realise their feelings for each other WHILE doing their shenanigans to try and get the main ship together. Extra Chaos.)

Prompt Ideas:

"What are you suddenly doing here?" "[Friend] sent me." "That's weird, [Friend] sent me too." "Wait..."

"You're telling me that they still didn't realise they have feelings for each other? Ugh, fine, I guess it's time for Plan B..."

I have a lot more of these, but this post is getting too long. If you want to hear more about lesser known tropes, please show some love to this post!

Love,

Your Gay Writing Bestie

[mickimomo]

Smile At Me For Once - (Attoye)

I finally got the motivation to write Attoye again! I figured I’d do a few warm ups again, by writing out little prompts that have been living rent free in my mind while working on the next chapters of my fics. Enjoy! :)

p.s. this isn’t set in the Sun and the Sky AU. It’s just post-BPWF, after a treaty has been signed.

Since the treaty was signed between Wakanda and Talokan, little workshops were being held between the two nations to give the people opportunities to learn new skills and build friendships. 

Okoye had been very eager to sign up for a few artsy and combat workshops. The midnight angel was hopeful to learn some new ways to kick ass but also embrace this foreign culture. Throughout the entire cultural exchange, she had been very openminded about it all until she had crossed paths with Attuma in a sparring workshop where they played a rougher version of hot potato mixed with floor hockey using a weaker water bomb and wooden spears. 

Essentially, you had an unknown number of hits to get the ball in a goal.

If it explodes while you’re maneuvering it around, you’re out until your team scores a goal.

It was a fun game that really boosted everyone’s morale but seeing Attuma and Okoye go against each other while their teammates sat on the bench with bated breaths really got everyone invested.

The man had used every chance he had to be near her, trying his hardest to start a conversation as he maneuvered around her. Through mean mugs and stank eyes, Attuma refused to leave her side. Even causing his team to lose a couple of rounds until she made it clear that she only wished to kick his ass.

Attuma understood that as, ‘I will only respect you if you defeat me or lose to me after giving your all.’

Okoye left the workshop sore, wet, and tattered while Attuma watched her retreat with a bruised grin and blood-filled rebreather.

He had managed to win a few rounds, but he played nastier than she ever wished to discuss or think about after today.

It wasn’t even nasty in a dishonorable cheating manner.

He just played without mercy or restraint or any sense of personal space. This resulted in Okoye having to literally fight for her life or peel him off of her.

There were moments where the wind had been knocked out of her and other moments where Attuma had sent her flipping across the field. He’d always be there to break her falls though, unintentionally groping her during inspections that often ended with gentle touches and the occasional Band-Aid.

Okoye never complained out loud though.

If he wanted to be rough, she could be just as rough.

She had been successful enough to knock him down a few times, but it always left her muscles screaming at how much strength it required to send the blue titan into the muddy earth. 

Once she claimed the final victory, earning cheers from her team, Okoye left. She could feel Attuma’s gaze on her back, but she refused to turn around.

She was a wounded cat, desperate to lick her wounds in private.

“Um...Okoye...why did Attuma pin you down like that-”

“-Because he is an idiot.”

“Well, you look like you had fun.” Aneka grinned.

“Do I look like I had fun?” Okoye turned to glare at her friend.

“Well, now you don’t.” She pouted. 

“I hope I never have another workshop with that man present.”

“Eh? Why?”

Okoye’s eyes burned into the midnight angel, forcing her to lift her hands in surrender.

“I’ll be quiet.”

“Good.”

Aneka remained quiet as they left the muddy field.

Okoye’s wish of not seeing Attuma had been granted by Bast temporarily.

She’d gone to weaving workshops, cooking workshops, and even carving workshops without seeing Attuma.

It was all going well until she went to the painting workshop that was being led by the king of Talokan.

She should have known Attuma had been praying to Chaac to see her when the sky opened and dropped an ocean’s load of rain.

The downpour was relentless as it soaked her clothes and pebbled her skin, scolding her until she moved faster.

Sandaled feet carried her towards the citadel and down a gilded hallway before she entered the workshop room that was at the beginning of a well-lit corridor.

Rain dripped from her eyelashes as her eyes scanned the room, eager to find a seat without disrupting the class.

Attuma was the only one sitting by himself in the back, while the king paced the front of the room, talking about a painting he had created.

Namor seemed fixated on the painting he had done while he talked, so now was the best time to go.

She gritted her teeth and mouthed a slew of curses as she took off her shoes and tip toed to the empty seat next to the warrior.

Dark brown eyes locked onto her as she quietly pulled out the chair and sat down, successfully making her way in without Namor noticing.

Attuma breathed out a single word. 

“In ba’ate’el.” (Warrior.)

But this time, it made her skin feel warm as it fell from his covered lips.

It had somehow gone from something he called her out of respect to perhaps a term of endearment. A nickname between foes to something Okoye refused to acknowledge.

Attuma accepted her glare as a warm welcome before sliding her a few pieces of paper.

“I.” He gently touched his chest. “Write.” He pointed at the papers.

She glanced at the papers apprehensively before taking them when she realized they contained details on the culture behind today’s workshop. Little fun facts and important moments of Talokanil history written neatly in English.

She’d be lying if she said she wasn’t impressed by his act of kindness.

It was clear that whatever his king had written on the board had been duplicated neatly- just for her.

He stared at her, patiently waiting for an ounce of praise.

“Thanks.”

He allowed his lips to curl upward behind his rebreather before he refocused on the speaking king.

Her eyes moved forward too, watching the king pause to put down a piece of paper.

“Alright. Now that we’ve covered the history, let’s jump into today’s craft.” Namor smiled. “Today, you will be working in pairs to create a mural of each other. In Talokan, we keep our culture strong by spilling our history into our art. We tell stories, sing songs, weave tapestries, write music, carve statues, and paint grand murals to record the past. Then, each generation adds to it. This makes our art better and the culture richer.” He lifted up a large painting. “Here is a small example I whipped together for this class. Here we have Chaac leading our priest to the plant that helped our ancestors move to the sea.” 

He began to repeat himself, speaking in his mother tongue.

Her ears were able to pick up a handful of words to verify it, but she eventually tuned him out as she took in the large painting. 

Namor was talented.

Talented felt like a small word.

An insult almost.

His painting skills were known to be amongst the greatest between both nations, so it made sense that he was leading this workshop. However, seeing his craft in person truly left the group speechless.

The mural was detailed, swirling with various cool tones.

Somber ceruleans, rich viridians, and regal violets.

Sprinkles of sand and clay browns as painted hands reached for a plant that floated down from a watching deity.

Everything was outlined with obsidian and highlighted with white and lighter cool tones.

He pointed at each component of the painting before looking up at everyone. “The story is clear that this is how Talokan came to be.” He put the painting down. “I want you all to work together to make a story about the two of you and paint it. At the end of this workshop, you all will present it to the group.”

He repeated himself once more in Yucatec Mayan before he moved forward to start handing out materials. “If you have any questions for me, please do not hesitate to ask. We have three hours to work on this, so please pour out your creativity and make something beautiful and meaningful with your partner.”

Okoye recoiled at the word ‘partner’ as he began his final translation.

Attuma on the other hand was elated.

His eyes moved to the woman beside him, drinking in her soaked attire.

He was used to seeing her in uniform, but today she was wearing a cropped orange and yellow blouse that tied in the front with a floor length orange and red skirt that moved like lava whenever she walked. She was heavily accessorized with golden bangles, a gold idzila, and a few jade waist beads.

Before he could take in anymore of her beauty, she snapped her red polished fingers in front of his face, sporting a scowl she always wore around him.

He blinked and she sighed before moving forward to place a kimoyo bead in his ear.

The world sounded foreign until she tapped her bracelet and looked up at him curiously.

“Do you understand me?”

He blinked before nodding slowly. “Yes. Can you understand me?”

She nodded. “Yes. Technology.” She offered jokingly before leaning back. “So, we need to tell a story. Let’s make some draft sketches of the mural and then pick the best one.”

“Ok.” He nodded. “Do you want to work separately, or do you want to work together on these drafts?”

“Separately.”

“Ok.”

“Let’s regroup in twenty minutes.” She tapped her kimoyo beads to set a timer.

“Ok.”

He watched her grab a piece of scrap paper and begin to doodle before doing the same.

Every few minutes, he would glance at her, stare at her longingly, get scolded, and refocus on his work. 

By the time the twenty minutes was up, he had twenty drafts and she had four.

“I’m surprised you have so many.”

“I’d probably have more if you didn’t yell at me so much.”

“It is difficult to do my task with a creep staring holes into my head.”

“I’m not a creep. I was referencing your features. Your face has to be a part of the mural.”

She gave him a pointed look before she began to lay out her drafts. “Well, let’s see what we’ve got.”

He nodded before laying out his drafts.

He had drawn Okoye twenty times, each one slightly lewder than the first time.

Okoye on the other hand had drawn both of them, taking inspiration from Namor’s style as she drew out different tales from different battles, they’d fought each other in.

There was depth and details and a story.

Everything that was supposed to be there but was missing in Attuma’s work.

He could draw, but nothing he created told a story.

It didn’t capture anything more than the curve of her breasts and ass- amidst the vibrancy of her eyes and fierce scowl she always wore around him.

Very similar to the one she wears now.

“What do you think?” He smiled warmly at her.

“Attuma, you are talented...” She started. “...but you lack the ability to write a story. In fact, you drew me explicitly in every draft.”

“The way I have drawn you is not offensive to my people. Is it offensive to yours?”

“No, but I am more than my tits and ass.”

“Would it look better if I added myself?”

“Why-” She pinched the bridge of her nose to compose herself. “Quality over Quantity. Have you ever heard that phrase before?”

He thought it over. “Not exactly like that...”

“But you understand what I mean, yes?”

“Could you explain?”

“You have nothing more to offer to this idea besides explicit doodles of me. Although the doodles look nice, it’s the same thing... which means you’ve basically given only one idea.” She held up an index finger. “One idea that can’t be used or enjoyed by anyone because there’s no story or lore or creativity behind it.” 

“But you are beautiful.”

“Right, but that’s not the theme of this mural. People will get tired of seeing the same thing over and over again. If I showed someone the same doodle twenty times, under the façade that it was something new each time, they’d grow sick of me. Which is why I’m disappointed with your drafts… beyond the obvious explicitness.” She shot him a look as he listened attentively. “We have to be innovative and creative. Just because it has Attuma and Okoye in it, doesn’t mean it’s good. Especially if it’s just the same thing over and over and over again. Whatever we present has to be new and additive to the story we’re trying to tell and something we’re proud of. We have to present this at the end, you know. It should be something of good quality. Something I would want to hang up in my living room and read books under.”

“Then let’s look at your ideas.” He tilted his head. “Maybe I can help draw one of those in a rough draft before we work on the mural.” He offered a small smile. “Whatever we make, I want it to make you happy.”

Okoye nodded as she looked away shyly. “Ok.”

Her four drafts were amazing, each blending the cultures of Wakanda and Talokan to create an ornate mural.

The first one centered around Bast and Chaac blessing her and Attuma in combat as they fought on a bridge.

The second portrayed a midnight angel descending on a warrior adorned with the head of a hammerhead shark, pointing her spear with a vow of sending him off to his ancestors.

The third centered around her kicking Attuma off the sea leopard and into the sea.

The fourth centered around Attuma pointing down at Okoye while she stood underneath an aircraft, holding a child close.

She spent a few minutes explaining each doodle before waiting for Attuma to pick one to work on.

He stared at each doodle with great focus before picking up the third one. “This one.”

She looked at it. “Why?”

“In that moment, we truly became equals.”

“You looked down on me before I kicked you off that ship?”

“No, but the fire in your eyes burned the brightest that day.” He smiled fondly at the doodle. “It makes me wish we had never been enemies.” His smile dropped. “Perhaps you wouldn’t glare at me as much.”

Okoye stared at him as they sat in silence for a minute or two.

“I glare at everyone.” She huffed under her breath, ignoring how his eyes brightened as she looked away.

“I will keep that in mind and not be offended by your angry gaze.”

“Yeah.” She dismissed him, suddenly feeling uncomfortable by her attempt at comforting him. “How long do you need to add your own style to it?”

“Twenty minutes.”

“Ok.” She set another timer. “I’ll start making paint swatches, so we know what colors we want to use.”

“Ok.”

The pair worked quietly on their parts of the project before regrouping when the timer went off.

Okoye looked the doodle over, while Attuma waited patiently for her feedback.

“This looks good to me.” She looked over the patterns he included to add more dimension to the mural. He even cleaned up the design of her characters, being mindful to not erase the notes of her culture she had woven throughout the design.

There were a few creative differences incorporated, but it was definitely something she wouldn’t mind hanging on her living room wall if everything turned out great in the end.

“Can we start working on the sheet of canvas now?”

“I think so.” Okoye nodded. “You can draw the outline and then I’ll paint it.”

“Do a rough draft of what colors you want to use on the draft I just finished while I work.” He glanced up at her. “I don’t want to be in your way when you’re painting.”

“Ok.”

Attuma took a deep breath as he lifted the roll of canvas and rolled it out on the floor. Azure fingers began to spread out the dense material before he grabbed a piece of charcoal and got to work.

Nimble fingers skillfully mixed different colors of paint on a palette before pressing themselves into the wet paint.

She stamped her finger into the areas to denote where each color would go, occasionally going over colors with something different when it didn’t look how she wanted.

Once she was satisfied with her work, Okoye dried her fingers off on a rag and turned back to face Attuma with curious eyes.

At some point while she was working, he had pulled his hair up into a messy bun, failing to catch every single fly away.

His brows were furrowed in concentration while his hands moved with precision and accuracy across the canvas.

Upon closer inspection, it dawned on her that Attuma wasn’t dressed in his usual uniform.

He had on a long jade skirt that complimented his many piercings and a thick band of cream cloth that wrapped around his waist twice before trailing a line diagonally up and over his shoulder.

He didn’t even have his headdress on.

He instead wore a viridian and a cream feather tucked behind his ear with a few shark teeth charms attached to the handful of braids that had been neatly done throughout his hair.

At a quick glance, he looked like a sculpture of a deity who was heavily invested in something.

He was some sort of sea god or water god.

Enchanting her like a siren, luring a pirate out to his demise.

His gaze lifted to meet hers for a moment before he lifted his brow in curiosity.

“Is something wrong?”

“No.”

“You’re staring.”

“I just wanted to make sure I mixed the right shade of blue for your skin.”

“You can do swatches of paint on my back to test it out if you want.”

“No need.” She turned around, flustered, and ashamed that she had been caught.

Attuma chuckled softly as he refocused on his work.

Once he was done, he got up and leaned over her, forcing her to meet his gaze.

“It’s your turn, warrior.”

“Okoye.”

“Hm?”

“My name is Okoye.”

“My apologies. It is your turn, Okoye.”

She offered a small nod before getting up and retreating to the floor.

“Is this okay?” She held up her rough draft.

“It’s perfect.”

“Ok.”

Attuma sat at the table and watched her begin to paint, being extra careful to be neat with each stroke.

Time moved slowly as Okoye worked.

He watched her every move quietly, being mindful not to gawk or make her uncomfortable.

If he was a water god, then she was a goddess of fire.

Beautiful opposites that could destroy one another if not careful but be steamy if allowed to mix.

Okoye could feel him staring but decided not to acknowledge it.

Once she was done painting, Attuma sat back down to finish outlining and highlighting the mural before they signed the bottom right corner.

The pair stepped back to admire their work, covered in smudges of charcoal and a few flecks of paint.

“We’re done.” Okoye breathed out.

“Mhm.”

“We did it.”

“We did.”

“Alright.” Namor spoke up. “While some of you add the finishing touches to your mural, let’s start presenting so that we can clean up and go.” His eyes scanned the room. “Do I have any volunteers?”

Okoye kept her hand down, but Attuma raised his hand.

Her eyes burned into the warrior as Namor grinned.

“Great! Attuma and Okoye will be our first presenters.” He waved them forward. “Come to the front and discuss the lore of your mural.”

Okoye sighed as she helped Attuma lift their mural and carry it to the front of the room.

Gasps filled the air as everyone took in the painting.

The painting was mostly various hues of blue, teal, and gold.

An unmasked midnight angel, striking Attuma into the waves with fire in her eyes.

Instead of painting a ship or an actual sea leopard, a large black panther was painted fighting with a feathered sea serpent in the sea.

The people of Wakanda were denoted by small purple panther cubs clinging to the panther’s back and the people of Talokan were denoted by small jade serpents trying to move up K’uk’ulkan’s back.

Attuma explained it all in Yucatec Mayan first before Okoye spoke in Xhosa.

He removed the kimoyo bead in his ear to relish in the sound of her explaining things in her own mother tongue.

It was beautiful.

She was beautiful.

Her lips stopped moving as her dark brown eyes moved to meet his.

She looked him over as the sound of clapping and soft cheers filled the air.

It all became background noise the moment she smiled at Attuma.

His skin purpled as she parted her lips to say, “Dios bo’otik.” (Thank you.)

“In k’áatech.” (I love you.) He breathed out.

“Huh?”

“Mixba’al.” (You’re welcome.) He spoke up as his blush deepened.

“Ah.” Okoye laughed softly as she looked away.

“That was a brilliant presentation you two! Thank you for volunteering to share first.” Namor beamed at them.

“Thank Attuma.” She jutted a thumb at the General before taking the mural from him. “I just wanted some art for my home.”

Attuma watched her quietly, drinking in all the joy that crossed her face before looking at his king with wide eyes when he snapped his fingers.

He arched a brow before realizing he was gawking at Okoye again.

Namor only shook his head as Attuma retreated and chuckled. “Alright, who’s next?”

The End

[sunshine-in-a-bottle]

Punz for the ask game?

HELLO

First Impression

Dream friend??? Friend of Dream??? Holding him forever

Current Impression

MURDER HOBO, AUTISTIC BASTARD MAN WHO LIKES TO READ AND LIKES TO GAME AND HAS SPECIAL INTERESTS. He has latched on to Dream and will never let go. Touch his friend and Die.

Favorite Moment

He just fucking dropped TNT on those maids and he looked really hot doing it. There's nothing quite as delightful as him logging out right after like it was a Statement. I can imagine him doing a little two fingered salute as he leaves. All the finale stuff was awesome but nothing lives in my mind quite as rent free as the image of some ordinary hoodie gamer boy gently kicking tnt off his little perch to smite the catmaids harassing a giant demigod.

Idea for a story

listen. listen. I have like 300000 stories about him. But if I wanted to write something that wasn't those it'd probably be him running errands around the dsmp. the entire story would start out really average and slice of life but it would slowly get more ominous as his errands stop including blocks and baked goods and saying hi to Niki at the bakery, and start becoming Spying On XYZ, grabbing supplies for the drunz experiment bunker, preparing the traps to catch their latest test subject. Fun stuff like that!

Unpopular Opinion

this implies I know what other peoples opinions are fjghdfk

uhhhhhh I don't think if Dream decided he wanted to forgo The Plan that Punz would get upset and leave him. I think Punz would be really disappointed, but ultimately "being Dream's friend" and "being a bloodthirsty murder hobo who longs for godhood" are not mutually exclusive things. I've seen a couple of fics handle it really well, and I adore the conflict of Punz caring about Dream but also disagreeing with Dream's desire to make nice and do peace when it comes up, because Punz just. Doesn't have faith in humanity. Punz has the people he cares about, and everyone else can go to hell.

Favorite relationship

I'm the usual sucker for Drunz. If that's too obvious, then Punz and Foolish also makes me really happy, along with Punz and Sapnap and maybe Punz and Techno? You can get a lot of mileage out of Punz's surface nature of being really easy going while hiding a lot of anger and bitterness, even misanthropy if you want to lean really deeply into it.

Actually, wait, a friendship I really like to think about but don't often get to talk about is Punz and Niki. Niki goes through a disillusionment in her character arc that I think Punz could really understand. Punz would be cheering on her villain arc, but the thing that Punz doesn't get that Niki does is an opportunity through the Syndicate to find faith again, faith in her friends, in hope and humanity.

Niki and Punz could have a lot of interesting conversations, she could even give him an offer to join the Syndicate. I can see her reaching out to him the way she was reached out to, if only to try. I can't say whether or not Punz would take that offer, its entirely dependent on what story you're writing, but as easily as I think they could see each other in the darkness, I think they could see each other in the light, too.

Favorite headcanon

Punz is autistic. Listen to me. He fixates of his Special Interests and he loves to have Opinions About Things and he is a stickler for things being On Time and Done The Right Way. I'm projecting my mental illness on to him. I just want him to complain endlessly about books and have a favorite genre and have an eye for the quality of metalwork because my mom was a goldsmith and Punz wears jewelry. Let me have my insane man.

[miitarashi]

Hello~

So I've been thinking about some fluff with Tintin (he lives in my mind rent-free).

I would like to request Tintin with a fem reader who likes to be praised. Just like, she tries hard to work well during the day and does everything quietly. So at the end of the day she likes someone to pat her on the head and just tell her that she did a good job. She doesn't say she likes it, but Tintin notices.

Only do this if you can and want to, thank you! And forgive me if this seems a little confusing, English is not my first language.

Owww,this is so cute tho. Such a cute thing need to be writed! And don't worry,english is not my first language either and i understood pretty well,you're doing a good job so far at learning! I'm proud of you unknow person. 😌❤️

[Name] = reader (female)

Warnings: none,just cuteness

Prompt: You're a hardworking person who loves headpats.

When you met Tintin for the first time, you we're working on the local library taking this opportunity to study on your breaks because you wanted to apply for a position as an assistant to a local historian you greatly admired. Because of it, the subject you were studying was something that Tintin was needing more informations of,so he asked for your help, becoming friends ever since.

Consequently, he ended up watching your dedication for the position you was applying for. He saw your eyes focused on your notebooks and books, the post-it notes on your wall to help you remember important things when he come to a quick visit, even finding it cute when you turned up your nose when you saw something you didn't understand or pressed your lips together when you tried to put the pieces together to help him with his new article.

But the top 1 was definitely the happy smile and light blush that covered your cheeks when someone pats you on the head. Even if you didn't say it, it was pretty obvious when you did, you kept quiet because you didn't want to draw so much attention. However the journalist discovered it and waited for the right moment to do so, which was precisely when you applied to be an assistant to this historian who you greatly admired.

The day of the decision came and went, Tintin found it a little strange not having a reaction from you about the result so he decided to stop by your apartement when he was free and after a few minutes of conversation about that new article, he casually asked:

"Oh,[Name],did you already got the results of your application?"

"Hm? Oh yes,i got it yesterday and will be working with him by tomorrow" — his eyes widen a bit in surprise,mostly by the nonchalant tone you tried to say it,but still feeling that animated subtone.

"Well,by how much you worked hard for it,i would be surprised if you didn't get it" — he chuckle a bit,letting a small sigh and finally he could do it.

His hand reach the top of your head giving some pats in a caring way,smilling when that cute smirk appeared on your lips along with the tiny blush he adore so much to see,he would even hug and kiss your forehead if he could because you deserve it and even more,however he didn't want to cross any bondaries or end up making things awkaward by this sudden act.

"I'm really proud of you [Name],you worked really hard for it"

"Thank you Tintin" — you said looking back at him,smilling happily. His eyes soften,taking his time to just look at you cute face before looking away a bit.

"Your welcome and from now on,i guess i'll be having an even more capable help on my researchs."

"Yes,i'm really looking forward for it"

"..Me too" — he said in a light,careful dreamy tone almost, watching your little excited squirm making sure to keep this memory in his heart.

You both smiled,quite excited as you will start your dream job and Tintin will keep his little excuse to stay close and having your help on his cases. A win is a win.

————————————————————————

A/N: there it is,a cute request fresh out of the oven! (Yes i know,it's a bit short) And sorry for the delay,i literally forgot to post on the last sunday :( but! I already have some good ideas and some special things being prepared~ so just wait a little,i promise y'all will not disappointed! Hope you liked unknow person! Thanks for reading!

[toomuchracket]

he would want to rent a cottage/cabin or something like that (cotswolds/Joshua tree/nice/Yosemite) and play house with you when you’re not already living together. just cooking, exploring, fucking, sleeping and talking alllll day

combining with I feel like the vibe would be to get out of the city and just have some decompression time in the countryside. Regardless of AU, girly is working in a major city, Matty is jet-setting and both are likely city fatigued and need to spend some alone time with a beautiful view and about that holiday thing… i’ve had a really fluffy & romantic brainrot about driving to the english countryside with matty :’) not thinking about that one video OR maybe ireland?? i think it would be the cutest either during summer of autumn. don’t really have anything too specific in mind. (except they’d obviously have a lot of sex lol and if they’re staying at a cute b&b place they’d have to try and be pretty quiet because the walls are sooooo thin) just super cute, domestic cottage core/english murder mystery vibes and That’s so funny you should say that abt going away bc i’m on my way home from a weekend up at my family’s cottage up north and i would have loved to bring him along like a little lapdog in a purse 😭 like lazing around riverbanks, cuddling up and sharing a joint by the bonfire, finding cute little trails and having impromptu picnics sksndkdnfb

this to me feels quite birthday party coded, quite early in the relationship before you move in together, and before both of you busy little bees have properly developed the rhythms of being together and working and whatnot! anyway, it comes about because both you and matty are finding london exhausting, and you have the same week in late june free, so matty's like "fuck it. let's just go away for a few days, just us and mayhem and nothing and nobody else. i'll drive, we'll get a cottage somewhere nice and we'll just... relax", and you're like "that sounds dreamy let's do it". and in my head you literally stay in kate winslet's house from The Holiday (despite the fact it is not real), that cosy little cottage in the middle of a literal field - as soon as the door is opened, mayhem bolts in and settles himself somewhere unknown, which makes you both laugh (you find him later on a chaise longue in a spare bedroom snoring his sweet head off), and matty takes the opportunity to be like "i'm being so gratuitous here but just let me have a moment" before he scoops you up bridal style and carries you in, kissing you as he sets you down on the kitchen counter. you're like "we've been here five seconds and you're already acting like some austenian romantic hero. this is amazing. hitting several of my fantasies if i'm honest", and matty giggles like "give me five minutes to bring the bags in and then i'll carry you to bed and hit some more of them, if you want" - you're like "ok but if you take your shirt off while you bring in the bags you'll have hit another one already", and matty rolls his eyes but does it anyway because tbh his one goal in life is to turn you on (and oh, watching his biceps flex and back muscles ripple does it to an insane degree). so yeah, that's the first of many sex sessions in the cottage, after which you get cleaned up and redressed and walk hand-in-hand into the little village nearby to get some shopping; fancy wine, cheese, bread, fruit, all that good stuff, and ingredients for a proper cooked breakfast for the next morning, before heading back to just sit in the garden and watch the sunset together with your little cheeseboard dinner and a bottle of wine and honestly a joint too. matty abandons his "i am not letting you fuck up your lungs" bit so you can get high with him, and you sit giggling and kissing until you're sleepy and the two of you decide to go to bed - you fall asleep almost instantly, because of the wine and the weed and the fresh air.

the next morning, a lie-in after a great long sleep - more sex, then a shower, then matty cooking breakfast while you sit on the sofa with mayhem and coo at him (which makes matty go all gooey lol). it's not too hot or sunny, so you decide to spend the day taking mayhem for a loooooooooong walk along the river; he goes in for a swim and its the happiest you've ever seen him. naturally, matty considers moving out of the city then and there lmao. the three of you end up in a pub beer garden for dinner, you and matty chatting nonsense over your pints, before heading back "home" and having a bubble bath together with some wine, which inevitably leads to yet more sex. it's a perfect few days, which is something matty addresses when you're cuddled into his chest, listening to the birds and watching the sunlight stream through the curtains, on your final morning in the cottage - he's like "this has been perfect, waking up and spending my days with you. don't wanna go home", and you're like "neither do i. want to just be with you all the time". and then matty has an absolute eureka moment and says quietly "will you move in with me, please? really don't think i can go back to living alone and making breakfast by myself. s'a lot better when you've got your arms wrapped around me lol", and you kiss him softly and say "yes, i will", and you do!! i also think you write a little free-form essay about the trip when you get back to london, with an epigraph from another of your fav classic romantic female authors that perfectly describes how you feel about your own love interest: "whatever our souls are made of, his and mine are the same" <3

[into-crazy]

Derry’s Secret Pt. 1

Pennywise x Female Reader series

Important !! For all my Joker followers !! If you do not wish to come across any of my or reblogged Pennywise content, then please feel free to block the 'penny posted' tag. Thank you♡

This first part of this series will involve a child since we're dealing with a child eating clown, and they are only interactions. The setting takes place in Derry in the year of 2016 and so forth. I've written this from a young woman’s perspective as I’m in my early twenties, so I wrote it accordingly. Though you’re more than welcome to perceive it as your own age and such.

Warnings- mature language, violence, Pennywise attacks a child, dark themes, ages 18+

Future parts can be found RIGHT HERE and through the "Derry's Secret" tag🎈

You have lived in Derry for a little over 6 months. Which was enough time for you to get settled into your current home and job. You also didn't have to worry about being completely alone- as your good friend, Gabby, had already resided here a few months prior to your move. She was the one that persuaded you to move here, since she knew you needed a change in your life. And with a small town like Derry, it was perfect. It's got a timeless feel to it, the weather is usually nice, and it's secluded from the rest of the buzzing world. Though despite the town's bad reputation, you've never seemed to have any issues or problems.

Seated in a local café, you're having a drink with your friend and her boyfriend Brian. Mind drifting deep into various thoughts as you stare down at your beverage. Starting to wonder how your life has changed since you've been here.

"Y/n!" Gabby's voice breaks through your subconscious mind. "Hey, you good?" She waves her hand in front of your face from across the table.

"Huh.. " You blink back into reality. "Oh yeah, I'm fine. Just thinking about how stressful it's been at the call center lately." You lightly groan as you rub the right side of your temple.

She laughs. "I could see that. You were really staring down hard there."

"Yeah, I've had a lot of calls this week. And the majority of them involved unhappy customers that weren't very pleasant. It's a little overwhelming, but nothing I couldn't handle."

She shrugs, "it was a tough week. But hey, you got through it. Try not to stress about it too much."

Truth be told you were pretty much used to the busy work time. Working as a customer service representative for a credit card company, it was always teeming with phone calls. Often times with many of these calls you have to deal with rude customers. Luckily the work itself wasn't hard enough to have much of an impact. The work's pretty simple and the pay is good, so there isn't much more for you to complain about.

"I know. Luckily I've got you, and my nice little replenishment right here." You joke taking a sip of your drink.

"Amen to that, uh!" Brian chimes in, kissing his girlfriend on the cheek.

She playfully shoves him away. "Yeah, yeah," she continues, "so hey, about that place you're renting.."

You steadily raise a brow, already knowing where this conversation is heading.

"Oh come on!" She pleads. "You're still welcome to move in with me if you'd like. My place is very spacious and you would pay less rent. Think about all the stuff you could buy with all that extra money."

Shaking your head, you laugh, "not this again. No thanks, Gabby. I'm content with having my own living space."

She pouts at your response, seeing that you've rejected her offer more than a dozen times. "Alright then, fine. I respect your decision and I give up on asking. Just know that you are welcome to at anytime."

Could she really be done trying to persuade you? Well about damn time. If there's one thing Gabby can be, it's stubborn to the max. But you love her for that. Plus, it's not that you would hate to be her roommate. You just need to have your own space because you value your privacy.

Brian sees the opportunity and speaks up, "well, since it's a firm no from her, then maybe we could get a place together hun." He winks at her before laughing with you.

"Oh sure, you'd love that huh?" She tells him with a puckish smile. "I can barely stand you enough as is."

You nearly choke on your drink from laughing at her comment. Their playful banter is always amusing to you.

He puts his arm around her. "Ah, you love me."

"Bet your lucky ass I do." She mocks at him, then refocuses her attention towards you. "Speaking of living spaces, we still having movie night over at your place?"

You nod, "yeah, of course. Bring a horror movie. I'm in the mood for something scary tonight."

She sips her drink and tries to think of a movie. "Something scary.. hm, alright I got a few."

Brian scoffs, "Gabs trying to get you to move out, yet she still wants to stay the night at your place."

"Hey-" she objects, "my place is a mess right now! Plus, my neighbors upstairs are always too loud."

And yet, here she was trying to convince you to move in with her. The last time you stayed the night at her apartment, the couple that live directly above her had gotten into a huge argument. Voices were raised and doors were slammed. Fighting so loud that the whole complex could hear all of the details as they practically advertised their business. Now, it probably wouldn't have been such a big deal had it not been 2 o'clock in the morning..

You check the time on your phone, it's nearly 3 pm. Which means it's time to get a move on your Saturday errands. A little late, that is.

"Alright guys, I'm gonna head out." You stand up gathering your belongings.

"Okay miss scary," Gabby replies as you give her a quick hug. "I'll see you at your place later."

"See you later. Bye Brian." You wave them both before leaving the coffeehouse.

~~

Roughly a couple hours later, you're making your way home. Grocery tote in hand, casually walking on the sidewalk. Most of the houses here are quite worn and spaced farther apart. In fact, most of Derry is still pretty old. Of course, the stores and businesses here are kept up to date when it comes to their products and technology. But as far as the architecture of the buildings, apparently not much has changed. Along with new additions added recently, so the town is a good mix of modern and old-fashioned. It's a taste you could quite appreciate.

Concentrated on your phone, a bold colored object comes into your side view. Looking up, you spy a red balloon floating down the street past you. It's just.. hovering by. Not even ascending up or coming down. Like it's strictly following a horizontal path.

Well that's quite odd.

Suddenly, the balloon bursts with a loud pop at the sound of a sharp scream.

"Shit!" You blurt out clutching your chest.

Quickly, you search in the direction from which the sound came. A few yards off to the left, you spot what looks to be a little girl by a storm drain. Thrown back with her feet to the opening, frantically kicking while calling for help.

Without any hesitation, you dart over in that direction as fast as you could.

"HELP! SOMEONE PLEASE H-HELP!" She pleads trying to get away from the drain, it seems like she's being tugged in. "HELP!"

Nearing her, you drop your tote and bag on the ground. "Hey! Are you oka-" your words of aid are immediately cut off by the view before you. There is a large, clawed arm reaching out of the opening. It's latched onto the child's foot and trying to drag her into the drain. "Oh my god!" You plead, taking ahold of the girl's hand which she reaches out to you.

You manage to keep her from being pulled any further, but the sharp claw won't let her go. Gripped tightly around her ankle, it wasn't like anything you'd ever seen before. Long and beastly. Like something straight from a horror film.

"NO, NO, NOO!" Broken cries pour from her lips as she thrashes her legs.

"Let her go!" You demand the faceless attacker while struggling to break her free. A deep growl came from inside, responding to your presence. "What the hell-" you gasp. That noise, it was so inhuman. Growing desperate, you grab onto the appendage, trying to release it's iron grip. "I SAID LET HER GO!"

Finally it gave, deciding to release her foot. The sudden force sends you flying back with the child. Landing hard on your backside as she buries her face into your shoulder and clings to you. You secure her tightly into your arms and stand, looking back into the opening.

It's completely dark, aside from the piercing red eyes staring right back at you! An angry gaze burning through your own. Your hold on the young girl tightens, eyes widening in horror. Even though you are in a shocked state, you stand your ground and stare right back. Then, a high pitched chuckle vibrates within the drain. Echoing through before fading out along with the fiery orbs. Once it's gone, you try to process what you'd just seen.

"I've got you, there there." You comfort the frightened child, and probably even yourself. "It's okay. I got you."

What the fuck was that thing?

You pace a couple feet away from the sight before attempting to put her down. But she doesn't want to let you go, only hugging you tighter while shaking her head and muttering a bunch a trembling no's. Eventually, with a few comforting pats, her hold eases and you carefully set her down. She's still shaking, the poor girl. "Hey, it's alright. You're safe. It's gone now." You reassure her as you wipe away her tear streams.

"No, no-" she weeps, "he's gonna get me!"

He?

You attempt to calm her. "No one is going to hurt you. They're gone." Gently taking ahold of her trembling hands, you wait for her breathing to slow down. "No one. Understand?"

She sniffles, glancing back towards the drain. "O-okay."

Not convinced with her answer, you turn her back, "you sure?" She nods her head, a little more certain this time. "Good. Now let me take a look at that foot." Leaning down, you examine her ankle. There are scratch marks and some light bruising from where it gripped on. Her sparkly princess sneaker is shredded up, just barley walkable. "Does it hurt?"

"A little bit."

"Would you like me to walk you home?" You offer gathering your items from the ground. Why even ask? After what had just happened, there's no way you'd let her go by herself.

"Yes please," she replies softly.

"Alright, lead the way." She takes ahold of your hand and escorts you along. "So.. what's your name?" You ask walking alongside her.

"Kimberly."

"Nice to meet you Kimberly, my name is y/n. How old are you?"

"Seven. I'm in second grade." She says proudly, holding up two fingers.

"Wow, second grade? Super cool! You know you're very brave." She stays silent, gazing down on the concrete. Whatever that thing was back there scared her really bad. "Do you want to talk about it?"

She shakes her head no. She winces, and there’s a slight limp with every step she takes on her injured leg.

"That's okay. You don't have to." You assure, avoid wanting to further upset her. At the same time, you're curious as to what she saw down there. Whatever it was, it could not have been human. Especially with those glowing eyes and monstrous claws. Unless it was a person in a very realistic and convincing costume. But then what about the bizarre sounds they made?

"He was a clown." Kimberly breaks the silence.

"A clown?"

She nods.

"What did he look like?"

"Scary," she thinks, "he was big. Tall and fluffy. I thought he was my f-friend."

"Why did you think he was your friend?"

"Because he wasn't scary at first. He was funny and nice to me. I think his name was.. Very Wise? He said he would give me popcorn and take me to the circus. My mommy tells me not to follow strangers, I told him no."

There wasn't a circus in Derry that you knew of. However telling by the utter confusion in her recollection, and with how she seemed so certain, you realize she must be telling the truth. To her own knowledge, anyway. 

Having stopped there, it wasn't hard for you to guess what had happened next. "And then he grabbed you?"

She pouts, "mhm, I-I think he wanted to eat me."

The whole thing made you sick to your stomach. Not even wanting to imagine what would have happened to this poor, sweet girl if you hadn't been walking by. It also was crazy how no one else had heard her cries for help. The commotion was loud enough to draw attention from the nearby houses, and yet it didn't. No one came out to help, heck nobody even came out afterwards to check or see if everything was alright. It made you a little angry, but alas you bit down on your tongue before continuing the conversation with Kimberly.

"Let me tell you, I love clowns. But he doesn't sound like the kind of clown that I would like."

"You wouldn't," she agrees. "You're really nice."

"Well Kimberly, I don't think that Very Wise will be bothering you any time soon." You recite coming up to her house. Moments after knocking, a woman you assumed to be her mother answers the door.

The woman gasps, "Kimberly! What happened!?" She embraces her daughter, looking to you both for an immediate answer.

"She was attacked by something in the drain," you explain. "I'm sorry, I didn't get a good look at what it was before it fled."

"It's true mommy! She helped me get away from the clown I told you about." Kimberly claims, throwing you off guard.

Wait, she's seen it more than once!?

Her mother quickly quiets her down, "Oh, you and your imagination. It looks like you were attacked by an animal. Must have been a dog from the looks of it. But thank goodness you're okay. I told you not to go out and play too far, didn't I?" Kimberly frowns at her mother's words of disbelief. "And thank you for bringing her home safe, dear." The woman praises you before turning back to the her daughter. "Sweetheart, thank the nice young lady and come inside."

"Thank you y/n," the girl smiles giving you a hug.

"No need, I'm just glad you're safe. Good night." You call before they head inside.

You're still puzzled with the idea that Kimberly has previously encountered the clown being before. It's even more strange how she's warned her mother, yet the woman seemed to have brushed it off as nothing! Especially after an apparent attack like such. It doesn't feel right. What kind of a mother would ignore something like that?

Sighing deeply, you're just glad that it is over with. Letting it go as you head home. Have you got an insane story to tell Gabby later.

End of Part 1.

[corviiids]

8, 18, 23, and all the other numbers you haven't answered yet

ooohoho really enabling me there thank you very much. answered 23 in the last one! i wont do all of them or this'll get super long but ill put a few more under the cut!!

8. if you had to write a sequel to a fic, you’d write one for…

tbh ive been contemplating a silly oneshot sequel to as you like it but i do have to actually finish the damn thing before i even think about that so ill leave it there.

18. if you keep them, share a deleted sentence or paragraph from a published fic

im actually notoriously bad at killing my darlings so i didn't think i'd have that many deleted scenes, but i did find a few older versions of the makoto&ren scene in chapter 6 of as you like it that i had completely forgotten about. looking back on these i actually still like them

v1.0 of the grounding sequence ren goes through after his nightmares. i think i cut this because it was too long and didn't flow well in context, but im sort of fond of it in isolation:

this was from an alternate version of the scene altogether, where they go to harajuku instead of inokashira so ren can find some featherman merch futaba wanted. i dont like this version as much as the final but i am fond of the extremely long spiralled potato:

then a completely unrelated ren/akc date that i cut because it wasn't doing any work and i didn't think it was fun enough to be kept in:

...

a few more answers for fun (1-5)

writer asks

the last sentence you wrote

i cant remember which line i actually last wrote so here's the last line in current wip

He laughs again. In the silence where Ren tries to re-examine his own complexes, Akechi draws ahead on the wall.

2. a character whose POV you’re currently exploring

ren! i think he's fun because he's the player character and the protags are generally designed to be pretty malleable (or personalityless if you're feeling uncharitable... or wrong) so obviously there's a temptation to just make him whatever your story needs him to be, but i think he's a really tempting and interesting opportunity to really get your claws into a guy who has a personality but refuses to show it and have that be one of his character traits. he's so adaptable to every situation but there are so many moments where his stubbornness and inner values shine through in his limited dialogue, so the challenge becomes like, how do you deduce the rest of a character's hidden personality based on the little they show you? how do you unpack someone whose character is that he wants to be whoever you want him to be? what's going on in his mind? how do you understand him and fill in the gaps in a way that's consistent with what he does in canon when he gives you so little to work with? this is an irresistible challenge to me so he just lives in my brain. he's not even renting he owns the place and he doesnt have a mortgage

3. how you feel about your current WIP

i think palacefic is the project that ignites the most personal passion and excitement in me so im really so excited to finish writing it so i can share it and also so i can read it instead of reading my own chickenscratch notes and think about how excited i am to write it

4. a story idea you haven’t written yet

i keep coming back to circle this idea of postcanon akeshu and how they navigate a relationship (word used free of connotation) where they are constantly circling each other and obviously cant do without each other but also like. are so codependent and not at all functional enough to really have a normal romantic relationship or even friendship. i wrote like a short scene of this which i put on twitter a while back i might actually post it here. and i also started a short fic just to get some thoughts down but never had any plans for how to continue it

5. first sentence of the fifth paragraph of an unpublished WIP

im self conscious about how much of this has been about palacefic, so have a line from my death note longfic instead (i cheated this is like the tenth paragraph because the first paragraph is introductory and none of the lines make sense in isolation or they're too spoilery)

Well, when you eliminate the impossible.

[ysabelmystic]

Top 10 things you got away with as a kid?

Thank you anon for giving me the opportunity to soapbox about the stupid and borderline psychopathic shit I did as a child. I don't know that this'll be a "Top" ten, but it will be the first ten things that come to mind.

Number 1: Attempted Murder (in self defense)

Some of y'all already know this story because it is in fact one of the most surreal things that's ever happened to me and it lives rent free in my head.

I spent my sophomore year of high school in Florida. My neighborhood didn't have blocks. We had ponds, and the houses were built around these ponds. The ponds were also full of alligators. This is important.

Every day after school, my friend and I would stand and talk at the bus stop before walking home to one of our houses. Because we both had overprotective parents, this and going to the park was about the only real freedom we had. So when a black car with a random guy sitting in it started parking across from the bus stop followed us if we started walking, we didn't tell anyone. Instead, we would just wait and talk until the guy got bored and bailed. This continued for about a month until one day, I had to make a to-scale model of St Basil's Cathedral for a school project. That thing was fuckin' heavy, so we were so focused on getting to my friend's place that we forgot that we were being stalked.

About ten minutes after we got to my friend's place, we were getting settled in, eating snacks and setting up the xbox, when his dogs went fucking ballistic. We looked out the window to see a strange man at the door and the black car parked in the driveway. He saw us and then walked around to the garage where we'd let ourselves in but hadn't locked it. So we ran to the garage and locked the side door just in time before they guy grabbed the knob and started trying to get in. When he couldn't, he went to the car entry and started beating at the metal door.

This would be the point when most people would call the police. But again, we had very overprotective parents. If we called the cops and they caught the guy, we'd never be let out of their sight again. If we called the cops and the guy got away, we'd get told off for being overdramatic and wasting the cops' time, and we'd still lose roaming privileges. Instead, over the course of about thirty seconds, we hatched a plan.

My friend’s dad kept his hunting gear in the garage. I knew how to use a bow and arrow at the time, and my friend knew how to swing a hatchet. We decided against using guns since neither of us felt like we could safely use them. Most people were at work, so it was unlikely that anyone would hear any screaming that was to ensue. The plan was to go outside and confront the man. If worst came to worst, we would simply yeet his body into the lake and let the gators take care of him.

We went back out the front door with our weapons and began loudly threatening the man. Not in a normal, “get off my property or I’ll shoot” way. We went into Joker Mode. We were 15, full of rage, severely sleep deprived, high on adrenaline, and in need of therapy. Plus, we thought that this would be the most effective way to scare him off. Luckily, it worked. We saw him rounding the corner of the house and chased him to his car. He sped off, and we never saw him again.

Number 2: Public Nuisance #1

Same year, same state, same friend. It was summer and we were bored as all get-out- bored enough to let my brother and his friend hang out with us. There was a Walgreens across the street from the neighborhood but it was kinda off on some side street so we were technically allowed to ride our bikes there. For whatever reason, on that day’s trip, we decided that this would be the day that we finally drank a Monster. And what the heck, what if we drank two Monsters. And when we got to the park with our bounty of caffeinated beverages, we thought, yknow, wouldn’t it be funny to see who could drink them the fastest. What could go wrong?

What went wrong was that you now had a small pack of children endowed with the energy of The Gods. And what else do you do with this energy but use the woods to play the most chaotic game of tag while playing LMFAO songs and occasionally scaring the shit out of unsuspecting trail walkers. Like yeah this was obnoxious and cringe, but none of us had ever had caffeine before and we now had consumed upwards of 400mg of the stuff. There were no brain cells. Only tachycardia and 2015 YouTube culture. We had become menaces.

This inevitably ended with all of us throwing up, and as the caffeine wore off, we decided to bike home. We started down the main path out of the woods, but at the clearing was a pair of cop cars and two officers walking into the woods. So we had to quickly hide in the bushes and sneak off-trail to the other side of the park. Why do I think they were for us? They were talking about a group of teenagers causing a “disturbance”. But we made it home without getting caught and played Minecraft for the rest of the day. We never did anything like that again, and every day I thank God that TikTok wasn’t a Thing yet.

Number 3: Public Nuisance #2

There were two things my middle school me despised about the girls’ locker room. 1) Everyone was constantly showing off their expensive bras and comparing cup sizes, and it rubbed me the wrong way (the “why” would be discovered later). 2) The perfume. Everyone makes fun of middle school boys and their Axe Body Spray, but the girls at this rich kid school had everything from Bath & Bodyworks to beauty boutique shit. It was beyond overwhelming. I was also deep in my “not like other girls” era and was full of unspecified rage. So, to cope, I started catching grasshoppers during PE. I wouldn’t just release them in the locker rooms. I would look for unlocked lockers or clothes that people had left out in the open, and hide the grasshoppers in their belongings. Just to inflict maximum chaos.

The PE teachers made a big show of looking for the prankster, but I was never caught.

Number 4: Destruction of Property #1

My fifth grade teacher, on God, is one of the shittiest people on this planet. He radiated Ted Bundy vibes. He was a total cunt. We all hated this bitch, and I was pretty much at war with him (he stole my books and destroyed one of my notebooks). This is the most monetary destruction that I caused in one go.

He had a water fountain on his desk, right behind his computer. For whatever reason, he had his computer cord wrapped around the fountain, so it wasn’t laying on the floor. It was basically a tripwire. Feeling silly, I tripped the wire. Fountain hit the floor and shattered. Papers went everywhere. The computer fell. My teacher had to dive into the puddle of water to save his laptop, but it must’ve still been damaged since he had to replace it a week later. And of course, he couldn’t do anything. I was very apologetic about it. It was an accident. I’d tripped. Everyone had seen me trip. It wasn’t the first time I’d tripped on something before. And it was only a matter of time before someone tripped on that cord anyways.

Number 5: Destruction of Property #2

The second worst teacher I’ve ever had was my 8th grade science teacher. He was also a total cunt, not for stealing my shit and destroying my work, but for making jokes about me cutting myself and encouraging the class to bully me. Yay! Just like my fifth grade teacher, he was a cunt with poor organization skills. He had a habit of not grading anyone’s papers until the end of the quarter. He would put each assignment in a stack and set the stack in an empty place on his desk. If he ran out of room, that stack would go on another stack, and so on and so forth. Basically, he had lots and lots of loose stacks of paper on his desk. I don’t remember why he was holding me after class, but I do remember that I was very displeased to be there. Instead of staying in my seat, I decided to take his chair. Y’know. To assert dominance. I fell back into the office chair and started spinning in it. I guess I must’ve hit it at just the right angle because something in the inner stand broke, and it sank to the lowest level. My arm hit a paper stack, which hit another paper stack, which hit another paper stack, and soon, there were papers all over the floor.

Dude didn’t even say anything. He turned red. Not wanting to stick around for the impending explosion, I just left lmao.

Number 6: Trespassing and Evasion

This is probably the most dramatic, disproportionate thing on this list. My first high school and middle school were connected, so overall, the campus was the size of a small college. It would take you at least 20 minutes to walk from one end to the other.

I was about to transfer schools, and to do this, I needed to deliver a folder of paperwork to the front office. Of course, my ADHD ass waited until the last possible day to deliver it. And I thought, “yeah I’ll just deliver this to the office during lunch”. The easiest way to do that was to go through the center doors of the main building and walk to the opposite side of the hall. 5 minute trip. Easy peasy.

Unfortunately, for some reason, someone decided to turn the student teachers into a security team. I got to the doors and was greeted with a very angry woman who was very much against the idea of me walking ten feet across the indoor hallway to the opposite side. I tried to explain my issue, but she wasn’t having it.

I didn’t want to deliver it after school since it meant I probably wouldn’t get a seat on the bus (seriously, it was packed enough that some people would have to sit on the floor, and to exit on the first couple stops, you had to climb out the window). I couldn’t very well walk around the outside of the building for two reasons. 1) This school ran like Mean Girls. The end of the building was popular kids territory, and God help you if you weren’t a popular kid in that area. I wasn’t just unpopular. I was poor. I was a wanted man. I had literal death threats over my head. And even if I made it past them, there was still a 50/50 chance of being caught by a rent-a-cop for being in the parking lot.

Luckily for me (and my friend who was with me for moral support), one of the upstairs side doors had a broken lock or something. It had caution tape all around it to deter people, but caution tape is easily surpassed and removable. Once inside, we just had to make it down the stairs and out to the office courtyard. Someone must’ve heard us though, because one of the student teachers started calling out, asking who’s there and all that jazz. He ran toward the main staircase. Other teachers showed up. We literally had to hide behind the decorative pillars while this became a fucking manhunt. It was like a scene out of a Nickelodeon program. When their backs were turned, we were able to sneak down another staircase and directly into the office. I delivered my papers, and all was well except we now had to make it back in while about 15 paranoid adults on a power trip were walking up and down the halls. Thankfully, my geography teacher’s room was nearby and he was chill so he let us stay in his classroom until lunch was over.

Number 7: Slander

In 4th grade, I framed a classmate as a “nose-picker” by saving water bottle label glue in my desk for 6 months and putting all the dirty goo-balls in his desk on desk cleanout day. All it took was one, “Ew! Look at Roger’s boogers!” and the rest is history.

He bullied my friend though, so he deserved it.

Number 8: Assault and Battery

In 9th grade, one of my classmates was excessively handsy and wouldn’t take no for an answer. Teachers wouldn’t do anything about him, so I took matters into my own hands, or rather, his hands. When he wasn’t paying attention, I slammed a pencil into his hand. It didn’t go all the way through, but it was standing on its own after I let go.

The crazy thing is that my teacher literally saw it and told the kid that he, “had it coming”, which is just another reason that that school was absolutely insane.

Number 9: Illegal Distillation

I once made wine in my backpack on accident. Old grapes met old crackers, and I ignored this until the bag they were in burst. I have no idea how no one stopped me.

Number 10: Theft and Framing (my mom’s contribution)

This is pretty benign, but my mom still brings it up.

My grandparents had a timeshare in Hawaii, and every now and then, they would allow us to go in their stead. One of 8-year-old me’s favorite things about this hotel was the birds, especially the geese. Because of the time difference between Hawaii and California, my brother and I also consistently woke up at 4 in the morning, so we had about 2 to 3 hours of “feed the birds” time before my parents woke up. Usually, we would use the rice Krispies, but we ran out. And the geese were still hungry. The wouldn’t eat the lucky charms, so that left my mom’s Very Expensive You-Can-Only-Buy-This-In-Hawaii-7-Dollars-in-2007-Money hemp and seed cereal. And birds like seeds, and in all fairness, I had no idea it was expensive, so logically we would give the birds this cereal. A whole box of this cereal.

So my mom wakes up to see her cereal lining the balcony and an empty box in the recycling bin. She went into Murder Mother Rage Mode, and like any self-preserving older sibling, I blamed my brother. I guess I was “old enough to know better”, so it worked. She brought it up every year or so as something terrible my brother did until a few years ago when I confessed to my crimes.

[1-800-whatwouldbillydo]

Billy & the Kids

Also on ao3 

Long story short, Steve’s been surviving on zero sleep and five cups of coffee a day, so Billy decides to take a load off by suggesting that he can watch the kids. Steve drops them off at the pool, and Billy learns that the shit birds’ summer break has been... hazardous to say the least. He sees an opportunity to connect with them, recalling the bag of pool toys he saw in the supply room. Plus, the kids get to have some normal fun. No monsters. For Billy, too, because Neil is going to be at a meeting until 10 p.m. Knowing his old man, he’ll be back three hours later. 

He assures Steve they’ll come back in one piece, and Steve gives him a tired but knowing smile. “I know.”

It’s a strange feeling, to hear that someone actually trusts him. Not just anyone; Steve.

The day goes by smoothly, except for Mike refusing to put on sunscreen. Max ends up chasing him and squirting him with the stuff, which solves that problem efficiently. That’s something Billy would do. She’s got the better side of him, too. He’d forgotten there was another, sillier side to him until Steve brought it to the surface.

Dustin brought his mother’s floral shower cap instead of an actual swim cap, a misunderstanding that will live rent-free in Billy’s mind for the rest of his life. Lucas and Will were the only ones who thought to bring goggles. Max goes into the pool first, followed by the boys. To his delight, they walk, not run.

El lags behind, and he approaches her with a friendly albeit concerned smile. “What’s up, Hopper Junior?”

Staring holes into the ground, she replies quietly, “I don’t know how to swim.”

“I can teach you-”

“No! I want to join my friends. I don’t want them to see me differently.”

Billy frowns at that. “They’re your friends. They shouldn’t judge you for shi- stuff. How about floaties? They help you... well... float.”

El turns pale, and she shakes her head so hard he’s worried it’ll snap clean off her neck.

“Uh... alright... what else... Oh! You see that red and white thingy over there?” He points to the other side of the pool, and she follows his finger. “Looks a bit like a big donut?”

She nods.

“Heather! Could ya pass me that lifebuoy?”

“You know what, Billy, the day you use the magic word to ask me for a favor, is the day hell will probably freeze over,” his co-worker yells into her prized megaphone.

If she said to him the only reasons she wanted this job were for that and her “throne”, he’d believe her.

“JUST- get it. Please.”

Heather gasps dramatically, kicking her feet in the air. “Does hell feel any colder?”

“You tell me. You’re way closer,” he says, mock shuddering.

She climbs down with one hand (the other is too busy flipping him the bird). “You suck,” she informs him, tossing the "donut" in his direction.

“And you swallow.” He catches it, flashing her a triumphant grin.

“No, that’s you.”

“Billy?”

Oh fuck. The kid. “Whatever you heard, don’t tell your parents.”

“My dad curses, too.” Her little face grows oddly serious, and she adds, “I won’t tell.”

He ruffles her curls. “C’mon, I’ll show you how to use this donut.”

🍩🍩🍩🍩🍩

Turns out time does fly when you’re having fun. The kids listened to him. No one ever listens to him.

When the sun starts to set, they dry off, and Heather tells him to go ahead, she’ll close up this time.

He drops Lucas off first, then Dustin, then Mike. Nancy’s waiting for her brother when Billy pulls into the Wheelers’ new driveway. She looks happier now that Karen’s out of the picture.

“Hey, Billy. Was Michael well-behaved?”

“Mike! It’s Mike!”

Billy smirks. Since he and Nancy had started to become friends, he’d learned she could be quite mischievous. “Michael wasn’t a total demon.”

“M-I-K-E!”

“Too bad you’re not sleepy enough to shut up,” Nancy says, giggling.

“UGH!” Mike stomps into the house, dripping water all over the floor.

“I’m going to murder you, you little shit stain!”

Billy chuckles to himself as he gets back into his car, where Max is asleep on El’s shoulder, and Will is yawning.

The next stop is the Byers.

Joyce opens the door after the first knock, and the aroma of pie hits him.

Has he eaten since breakfast? Shit.

Will waves to him sleepily, and El hugs him, then whispers something to Joyce before going into the house.

“I can’t thank you enough. El says everyone had a great time. Would you like to come in? I have pie.”

Now, he doesn’t know Joyce much yet, but from what he gathers, she’s not one to take no for an answer. He’s too tired and hungry to turn her offer down, even if his suspicions are still ever-present.

He follows her inside, where she puts a blanket over his shoulders and pulls out a chair for him.

‘’Do you like apple?” Her eyes aren’t anywhere they shouldn’t be.

Billy hates how that only makes him more anxious. He clears his suddenly scratchy throat. “’S fine.” His mother used to bake all the time when she was happy. During those last few months, she stopped smiling, stopped doing what she loved, and she would leave for a couple of hours. But she’d always come back, mostly in the morning. Until she didn’t. That’s just what living with Neil Hargrove did to you. Apple was her favorite. His, too.

“I’ll fix you some tea, too.”

“Mrs. Byers, you don’t have to-”

“Nonsense. I want to.” She sets a big slice in front of him, accompanied by a fork and knife. “Call me Joyce. I insist.”

“Thank you, Mrs- Joyce.”

“Dig in, it’s no good cold,” she says, smiling at him. Her eyes never travel to his chest. No, she maintains eye contact. Like she sees right through him.

He starts eating, all too happy to oblige.

“You’re really good with the kids, you know. Especially with El. You were sweet to her. She doesn’t have... great memories of the water, but you helped her make happy ones.”

Billy swallows convinced some crust is caught in his throat as his eyes begin to tingle. “I... helped?”

“I see why that Harrington boy likes you so much.”

He blushes up to the tips of his ears, stuffing more pie into his mouth.

“Nearly midnight. How about that.”

Fucking fuck. Just like that, his dream bubble deflates. His eyes sting again. I don’t wanna go back there. But worse will be waiting the longer I put it off.

“Billy? You’re welcome here anytime. I mean it. And honey?”

“Yeah?”

“Drive safe.” She sends him off with a long hug, pie, and tea for the road.

“Thank you, Joyce.”

“Good night, Billy.”

Karen had told him the same thing. Drive safe.

Joyce wasn’t Karen. Wasn’t his mother, either.

Both bring an odd comfort to him.

His stomach is full and warm, not leaving much room for doubt. He drives the speed limit this time, thinking about his day. His mother, wherever she was, did she know he was happy?

That he had fun? No tears were shed. He made people laugh.

Today was a good day.

I want more good days.

***

//✍️Tagslist open//

@flashwaves @thebussynotes @shieldofiron @thatgirlwithasquid @jad3w1ngs @usaqaix @hargrove-mayfields @thecrabnebula @talesfrom-theupsidedown @emeraldwitches @robthegoodfellow @magellan-88 @thatawkwardlittlefangirl @spaceboxkitty @ashyyboyy @harringrovsonsworld @martyreasemymind @awkwardgravity1 @fizzigigsimmer @captainrexshusband @atomrose @billyhargr-a-ve @anarcha-queer-horror @skyesayshi @hgrve @angelshiba @jaethecreator @thissortofsorcery @suometar

[thistle-and-thorn]

Your fanfics live rent free in my head. Your manner of prose has made me so much more picky now though. Any recommendations for fic authors or book authors with similar styles?

Oh this is a very generous ask! And I'm going to be completely indulgent and give you lots and lots of very long answers.

A couple disclaimers: I'm not sure that these are really similar to my style, but these are writers/works that I find very inspirational/educational. Also, I will read pretty much any ship so some of these may not be to your taste. Apologies in advance! And I will fully admit that I do not read much fanfiction, especially Sansa/Tyrion fanfiction anymore, because reading similar content makes it a lot harder for me to write stories myself. If there's any oversights, fully on me.

Fanfic--There are so many good fics and incredible writers and if you ever have specific requests for ships or fandoms, I will happily continue to scream about stories I love but I am going to use the opportunity to tell you about my mutuals. Because I think the appreciation and love you have for the people you meet because you connect with their writing is a very special thing.

@attonitos-gloria--nonny, I am guessing that you know Her. The Undisputed Queen of Sanrion. However, it is frankly a moral obligation that I have to shout her out. Getting to beta for her is one of the joys of my life and has just given me the deepest appreciation for her craft. She has the best and quickest mind for plot and world-building I've truly ever encountered and a natural instinct for pacing and dialogue. She knows how to turn a phrase and she understands the cycle of how a character feeds into plot to construct a theme and how to leverage it for maximum effect (TBT to the TKC-fueled Spiritual Crisis of 2020). But really, really, really what makes her one of my favorite writers and one of my most re-read writers, fanfic or traditionally published, is how much she loves the characters. Every work is an act of love and compassion, and you can tell.

@coffeeandorange--The thing that I am always left with when I am done reading a Coffee StoryTM is a sense of clarity. Like, this is work that cuts through a lot of the fandom B.S to get to the heart and muscle of the thing (whatever it may be). Here is where you're going to find the perfect intersection of ingenuity, originality, and just really good writing. I am really struggling with how to adequately describe the writing without feeling reductive, but the word that keeps coming to mind is clean. But what I think I really mean is that I always have the sense that the language, that the use of language, is precise because it knows what it's saying. It is simply the form that best embodies that clarity. I have such an appreciation for the contrasts that coffee allows you to sit with: the joyful tragedy in The Way Home, the gruff intimacy in The Cat-king; the beggar boy, and the sharp tenderness in Shame Will Not Hold Down Your Eyes. They are stories that never shy away from the knots and complications in canon and I really, really, really admire that. I love when someone trusts their reader to sit in life's penumbras and coffee does just that.

@charmtion--being mutuals with charmtion is like being mutuals with a celebrity. I genuinely feel like I rediscover words, like literal words (fluted! why don't i use the word fluted!), when I read her stories. When I first started sharing my writing, I would study her sentence construction and try to figure out how I could be Like That. Reading charm feels like stepping into a fantasia, whether it's American high school or Irish mob house or Westeros. But beyond just sheer style, there is such a deep, dark, tender core to charm's writing. Her ability to mine small moments to show you what grief and desire looks like is something that I really admire.

Books: These are books, old favorites or new, that have inspired things that I've written, or thought about while writing, or just made have that Oh My God To Share Stories is the Greatest Gift:

Till We Have Faces by C.S. Lewis: Possibly how Attonitos and I became friends? That's the lore I'm going with. This is heavy on the Christian theology, but can be enjoyed just as a damn good novel. Lewis has had a huge influence on my spiritual and moral life, and he is at his best here. A perfect psychological portrait of Psyche and the single best myth retelling/revisioning I've ever read.

Small Things Like These by Claire Keegan: I just read this and it is a total favorite of mine now. A writer who explores the complications of kindness, rather than the banality of evil. CK doesn't tell you a thing but uses the small details of everyday life to force your examination of your own morality.

The Queen's Thief series by Meghan Whalen Turner: I'm a parody of myself. But like. They're really good, okay???????????

Literally Any book by Hilary Mantel--Probably my favorite traditionally published writer. Her books are tough--my favorite are the Cromwell books--and the language is tough to get into. But when you finally are immersed, it's magic. She changed how I thought about how to write permanently.

The Bloody Chamber by Angela Carter: This book is probably the one that has had the biggest, biggest influence on how I write. I can read her stories over and over and over again. Her use of language and image. Her eroticism. *chef's kiss*

Deathless by Cathrynne M. Valente-- This was rec'd to me by tumblr's arbiter of good taste and curator of beauty @palominojacoby. I wrote an unhinged essay about this book on my secret sideblog that explains my feelings more but in short: this book is how you use fairytales and sex, my friends. The political is the personal. Very personal.

Say Nothing by Patrick Radden Keefe--I read a lot of non-fiction. I have a massive ethical issue with the way he deals with the end of the book but the questions he raises about the moral wound is seriously influencing crows + locusts. Particularly the as-yet unpublished fourth installment.