#now i need to write up some prompts and maybe a pinned post too. just cause.

[polter-heist]

THE SIDE BLOG HAS BEEN FINISHED.

this took way too long ajfsjcsjcjcevke

[dotster001]

Hi i don't know, if your requests are still open, if not you can ignore it or do it whenever you want.

Just readed your prompt, when reader suddenly passes out with Vil, Jamil, Floyd and Rook. I was wondering, if you could write something similar for Malleus, Lilia and maybe the teachers Trein and Crewel?

(I'm happy you enjoyed those! And I hope you like these too!)

Part One Part Three

CW:Burnout (obviously), mental breakdown/trauma in Trein's part, spoilers for Vargas training camp in Trein's part, injury in Crewel's part

A/N: I've said this in my pin post, but I age up characters to actual college age, because I am in college, and didn't realize until a few months in the characters were not. Everyone here is. 18+ If it makes you feel more comfortable, imagine this as a grad school situation.

He's been pouting a lot lately. Which for a normal person wouldn't be a problem, but Mal's pouting usually meant that the weather was bad as well. He was pouty, because whenever you had time in your incredibly busy schedule to see him, you still had to be working on your homework. With everything Crowley had you do for the school, you had to share your "dragon time" with your "homework time". But your boyfriend looked very cute pouty, so part of you wasn't too upset about it.

Until the day you were so busy with something that you hadn't eaten or slept in over 24 hours and just…collapsed during dragon/homework time.

Malleus immediately panics. He assumes you have had a heart attack and died (Mal…college students are unlikely to have heart attacks)  Once he finds a pulse, and sees your breathing, he scoops you up and teleports to Lilia faster than he has ever teleported.

He's sobbing as he answers Lilia's questions, not entirely certain that this wasn't something he did. Lilia easily is able to figure out what has happened, and goes to make you some soup for when you wake up. Malleus is too relieved to think about the fact that while Lilia's soup will have loads of protein, it might send you into shock. In the meantime, he puts a cool cloth on your forehead, and caresses your cheek.

After you wake up and barely survive the soup Malleus spoon feeds you he tucks you into his massive comfy bed (you can't tell me he doesn't have the fluffiest comforters) and then…vanishes.

From here on out, everytime you get a task from Crowley, it's already finished by the time you get around to it. It's weird, but it means you have time to keep homework separate from "dragon time". Which makes a certain fae very happy.

Lilia has spent years learning how to care for humans, especially since most of them *cough* Silver *cough cough* Y/N are not good at caring for themselves.  While his recipes are terrible, he is right in some ways about making sure to get all your nutrients. While it can feel a little patronizing sometimes, he is right that you need sleep. While he is a little unorthodox in how he has fun, he's right that you need to have leisure time and do things you enjoy.

What you don't know is that behind the scenes Lilia has already been having regular arguments with a certain Crow about your workload. When two fae fight, it's never good, but you don't have to worry about what's going on.

Azul and the tweels get called back home out of nowhere, and now you're in charge of all the paperwork that he is usually in charge of handling, both for the lounge and for the other Housewarden's. Lilia sees less and less of his sweet human, and he's suspicious part of it is because you are avoiding him, knowing full well he would make you take a break.

He has to admit, your avoiding skills are actually pretty good. So he's not actually there when you collapse. And he's furious. Especially when he finds out that Crowley also decided to add his own paperwork to your ever growing pile. He only knows you collapsed when he hears some randos gossiping about how "the prefect collapsed running laps today, and the idiot duo had to walk them to the infirmary." He's immediately flying to the infirmary, powered by his pure rage.

He knows it's not your fault, especially since you have nothing to your name in this world, so it's easy to manipulate you into this position. So he does his best not to take his anger out on you as he watches you sip apple juice that the nurse gave you, while you do your best to keep your eyes open. Once he is certain that the nurse has things under control, he kisses your forehead, and asks you if you want him to bring you anything.

While he's out getting you a treat, he makes a stop at a certain Crow's office. From here on out you don't see a lot of him. You are a little worried that Lilia may have killed him, but everytime you ask him, he giggles and messes up your hair, before telling you how silly that is.

He's harder on you than he is on most of his students, partially so that no one can claim favoritism, partially because you are just so far behind in history (having it not be your history) that he has to give you extra work and lessons to catch you up. But as a trade off, he tries to be a step ahead of Crowley whenever he can. There's little that happens in the school that he's unaware of, so he's usually able to protect you from his foolish boss.

Until you get sent to the training camp with the sports clubs to assist Vargas. He's furious about this last minute decision, that Crowley conveniently forgot to tell him about, and he's even more angry when he later finds out that you were "kidnapped" and then immediately had to fight a creature in the mines. 

Naturally, your mental health is not so great after the trip. He's starting to see it on your face when you both hang out, and even if he didn't, your work for his class is deteriorating, if you even turn it in at all. 

Then you break down one day when he asks you about it. He can't understand a word you're saying as you sob and yell and shake. But he's pretty sure he has the idea. You've been pushed too far. He sends Lucius to fetch a nurse or counselor , or heck he's sure even Sam would have something to help you relax enough to just breathe. In the meantime, he wraps his arms around you and tries to walk you through breathing exercises, while whispering some praises to you that you can't comprehend in this state, but appreciate all the same.

After someone gives you a potion that helps you relax a little, he leaves you to rest on his office couch with Lucius in charge, and he holds a meeting with the rest of that staff about what's not appropriate to put people through. (Essentially it's Crewel and Trein yelling at Vargas and Crowley about trauma and what their job is supposed to be) 

This never happens again. You continue to have extra work from Trein, but he always ensures he makes time to help you, or give you a soothing tea if he thinks you're starting to drop back into the bad mental state. If you do, he holds you close, and says nothing, while allowing you to spill whatever is plaguing you. 

Prior to him dating you, you had denied his request many times to financially sponsor you. Now that you were together, it was harder to come up with an excuse for him not to. So he'd purchased Ramshackle and renovated it. He'd taken up the expenses for your schooling and food (after much argument  he'd also taken up Grim's) and after several discussions about the future of your relationship, he'd begun helping you through the process of becoming a citizen in a world that had no proof of your existence (a pain and a half, but there was nothing he wouldn't do for his beloved pup). In doing all this, he'd made it very clear to the Headmage that he had no hold over you, and therefore couldn't coerce you into anything.

Divus knew he was a fool for leaving you alone for a week. He had assumed that Crowley had nothing on you anymore, and that he could go help a smaller fashion designer that showed a lot of promise get their career off the ground. At first he was only going to be gone for a week, but it quickly turned into two, then three. He should have recognized the tension in your voice when you'd asked him over the phone when he thought he'd be back. 

When he finally returned, he thought he'd surprise you by showing up where he knew you'd be hanging out with your friends. He'd bought a ring for you that he was particularly pleased with, and he wanted you to have it as soon as possible. His plan was dashed as he watched you collapse into Howl, who immediately started to panic.

With a clear voice Divus took over the scene, picking you up and carrying you to his office where he had all manner of potions. As he pressed one to your lips, he noticed a cast on your arm. He'd ask about it later. 

When you woke up, you wrapped your arms around him, and whispered how much you missed him. He asked what happened, and you tell him how you broke your arm in yet another overblot incudent, and had been working like crazy for Crowley to pay off the medical expenses. 

You've never been scared of your lover. But his eyes were practically glowing with rage, and now you were starting to wonder if you should be scared. Divus does not accept cruelty to animals or humans. And, he keeps his receipts. It's not long before there's a pretty hefty case and Dire is removed as headmage for coercion and endangerment. After that, there aren't any more overblot incidents and the students seem more mentally healthy. How about that?

He decides to wait to give you the ring until you're fully recovered after everything. But he's certain when he asks you the question that comes with it, you'll have an answer he likes. Especially when you nuzzle into him so sweetly while you nap in his office.

....

Tag list-@shytastemakerthing @stygianoir @leonia0 @lleoll

[finntheehumaneater]

Hiiiiii! Idk if you’re still taking asks or not but I was hoping you’d do “I’m sick of being useless” and “shit, are you bleeding!?” with Steddie and mainly Steve angst. I thrive on Steve angst lol

And if not that always fine to! Feel free to ignore :)

I did a thing!! Yay!! And I feel like this was kind of more…Wayne & Steve and less Steve/Eddie, but….i hope you like it :)

(all links to writing prompts are in my pinned post, but just know that it might take me a while to write the prompt since I’m a very busy person 🩵)

TW: mentions of blood, needles, and past head-trauma

Steve knew that the blood was dripping down onto the carpet, but he couldn’t bring it in himself to care. He would clean it out when he didn’t feel moments away from blacking out.

He was in the Munson’s trailer. Wayne had given him a spare key after the first time he had dragged himself over here—‘82, after the demogorgon. That was before he had known Eddie lived there with him, back when Eddie went out almost every night and hung out with his friends until early morning. 

He was waiting in the living room while Wayne rifled through the bathroom, trying to find the first aid kit he kept there. His hands were shaking and he couldn’t breathe. Everything hurt. He could hardly feel his face anymore.

And, because his luck was shit, as always—the front door clicked open, letting in the glow from the streetlight drifting over his shoes before it was closed again. He kept looking down, not wanting to face Eddie right now. Not like this. He was going to be met with pity.

But maybe it wasn’t Eddie. Maybe it was the lady that hung out with Wayne to smoke. She came over sometimes, right? What was her name? Clara? She wasn’t much younger than Steve, but Wayne seemed to be fond of her.

“Stevie? Shit, are you bleeding?” A voice whispered, soft and quiet, like Steve was some kind of spooked animal. He crumpled at that, barely holding back a sob, and the guilty feeling got even worse when he heard Wayne call from the bathroom—not that far away since the trailer was small—“hold on, kid, I got it. It’s okay, I’m coming.”

He felt a hand on his shoulder pushing him onto the couch, rough and calloused as it slid over his arm, but it was from age rather than wear, like Eddie’s hands.

Steve’s eyes were squeezed shut, but he could feel Wayne sitting next to him, their knees touching slightly from how he must have been turned. “Gonna need stitches, kid.”

“Stevie—“ he heard Eddie whisper again, panic creeping into his voice. 

He couldn’t have looked that bad, could he? He knew his lip was split, and he probably had a black eye…maybe a cut or two on his face that were deeper than he liked, but…not that bad, right…?

“Not now, Eds. Go wait in the kitchen.”

“Wayne—“

“Eddie—“

“He can stay,” Steve breathed out, opening his eyes. The lights felt too bright now. Everything was blurry. “Please, he can—he can stay.”

Wayne sighed, and he felt someone quickly walk over, a hand immediately wrapped around his too tight, but Steve didn’t comment. He knew Eddie got weird at the sight of blood. Always had—it was hard to believe he hadn’t passed out after what happened with Chrissy and…everything else.

“M’gonna be okay,” Steve whispered, and it was hard to even get the words out with how tight his throat felt. “Don’t worry about me, Eds, M’gonna be alright.”

“I know,” Eddie whispered back, his grip loosening on Steve’s hand. “Wayne’s gonna take care of you, yeah? A-and I will, too. Can stay here until you're better.”

Getting the stitches wasn’t as hard as he thought it would be. His face was mostly numb, but he could still feel the needle going in and out and it made him feel even more light headed. He could see Eddie faintly until Wayne told him to close his eyes again, and the poor boy looked worse than Steve felt.

“Eds,” Steve muttered. “You don’t have to watch.”

“I, uh…” Eddie trailed off, his voice shaking.

“Eddie,” Wayne said quietly.

“Hm?”

“Go and clean up the bathroom from when I was looking’ for the kit. Make sure the shower’s decent so Steve can get in afterwards. Gotta keep the stitches dry for a bit so you’ve gotta help him wash.”

“Yeah, alright,” Eddie breathed, sounding slightly reluctant but happy to excuse himself.

After a few moments of silence, Wayne spoke up again. The couch was slightly uncomfortable at Steve’s back from sitting so long. “He looked faint. And he ain’t even then one gettin’ the damn things. You’re doin’ good so far, son.”

“Thanks,” Steve choked out, breathing in shakily before trying to relax his face for Wayne again. His fingers dug into his thighs.

“I’d say that I’d help wash you so that Eds doesn’t fuck it up,” Wayne continued, and Steve hoped he was almost done with the stitches. “But I don’t think you would like that all that much.”

“I’d be fine,” Steve whispered, nearly going to shake his head in protest before remembering what was happening and staying still. He didn’t want to sound ungrateful for the help, but he did want Eddie to do it. It wasn’t like Eddie hadn’t seen him naked before.

Once the stitches were done, he tried not to touch them, even though he wanted to. He was finally getting some feeling back into his face, and it hurt. 

“You wanna tell me what happened, Steve?” Wayne asked gently, running his hand over Steve’s arm for a moment before pulling away. 

“I don’t…I don’t remember,” and that wasn’t exactly a lie. He remember punching and maybe some crying on his part, but everything else was gone. He really hoped he wasn’t dying. The doctors from his last hospital visit had advised to stay away from fights in case his head got hit. And his head had definitely gotten hit before. He remember the panic right afterward. How everything titled sideways and he fell, scrambling to get up before someone kicked at him. 

“Need help getting to the shower?”

“Hm?”

“The shower, kid,” Wayne asked.

“No, I can walk. Thanks, though.”

Eddie helped him wash off, keeping out from under the spray of water while he sat on the side and scrubbed gently with a washcloth. Steve hated every second of it. But he also didn’t. He didn’t want Eddie to have to do this. He could move his arms perfectly fine, but Wayne had asked Eddie to do this, and he wasn’t going to say no to Wayne. He would never say no to Wayne. But at the same time he liked being taken care of like this. It made him feel sick.

“M’sick of being useless,” he whispered, letting his hand fall back against the wall of he shower. 

“How do you mean?” Eddie whispered back, his hand stopping and coming to rest gently behind Steve’s neck, slipping through his sweat-damp hair. 

“I just—I can do this on my own, you know? But…but I don’t hate this, and…and it makes me feel horrible…”

“Oh, Steve…” Eddie whispered, and Steve opened his eyes, watching the way that Eddie’s eyebrows pressed together, sympathy seeping into his expression.

“It doesn’t make you useless to ask for help, okay? You wanna finish up in here and then go to bed?”

“I’m not staying—“

“Oh, you are,” Eddie insisted. “If you think I’m letting you drive back like this you’re dead-wrong, sweetheart. Plus, I don’t think Wayne will let you leave, anyways. And I could read to you if your head doesn’t hurt too much? I think we could finish the book tonight.”

Steve bit back a smile, nodding slightly. “Yeah, sure.”

Eddie went back to washing him in silence, but it only lasted a moment before he spoke again, his voice more quiet and firm. “You know I love you, right? And I really don’t mind doing this, if that’s what you’re worrying about.”

“I know. I love you too,” And if that didn’t feel so natural to say, Steve didn’t know what did.

“I know,” Eddie whispered, poking him in the side gently in a way that made Steve smile. “Just relax for a bit, okay? Lemme finish up and then I’ll get you dressed.”

Steve forced himself to take a breath, turning to face Eddie a bit more so that he could reach better. He smiled a bit wider so that Eddie knew he really was listening, even though it didn’t look like it. “Okay.”

[yunxi-11085]

Little intricates to treasure

Yanqing & Reader w/ Jing Yuan (platonic)

this is my headcanon but I want yanqing n reader being childhood friends and they are inseparable yk?? super adorable and maybe a vv mischievous pair

this is all platonic/young love as yanqing is not of age n please do not be+think sexual stuff when reading this. this is part of my incorrect prompts post!( you can find it on my pinned post++) I just had a rlly cute idea so Im continuing it yee!!

soooo let's start shall we~~

yanqing and you are an inseperable pair, the locals of the Xianzhou alliance are so used to both of your little tricks and mischievous acts that they just sigh and awe at the cute sight.

I mean who can dare yell at the general's most treasured liutenant? but no one can admit aloud that they think you two are really cute. the way both of you are whispering (but they can still hear you) about your little plan and the way you execute it is super obvious but they still play along with your little acts

yanqing would bring you to places while holding hands, he'd be super excited and run around when he buys new swords! you both would sit down and he would ramble til sunset about how the sword is designed and the handiwork he likes. and his eyes lit up whenever you agree with him too

it's funny n weird to imagine that yanqing will be as tall and bulky when he grows up, just like the general. if young boys could preserve their youth and cuteness longer...

speaking of the general, when you first met Jing yuan you were super scared, especially because this lion of a man was standing so tall in front of you—but you're now getting used to him being crazy over cats to worry about him killing you or crushing you in one step.. why were you scared abt that btw??

so one day yanqing wakes up with an idea.. he runss to you and starts talking about his plan. the general would be out today to sort some things and yanqing wanted to mess with his chess pieces!

he so wanted to get revenge to the general every time they play chess, because the general keeps eating his chess pieces without him noticing!

so his plan was to paint some of the generals chess pieces to black, because the general uses the white chess and yanqing just thought to paint them. as if the general won't notice how hes missing one chess piece when they start playing

you were skeptical because of the aforementioned possibilities... plus a normal chess would have 32 pieces with 16 per side, an advanced player like Jing yuan could tell from the start.

but the lil puppy eyes yanqing gives you— and then somehow you are seated in the private garden of the general (how is this sneaky?!) with a chess set and black ink in front of you.

I'm pretty sure the punishment this time won't just be the allowance cut in half...

anyhow you both start, but the ink had to be wet— yanqing just bought dry ink somewhere. so, with the strength of two teens you brought a bucket or two to start.

at this point you both are not painting chess pieces, you're writing a whole letter of apology and discipline

you just hope yanqing knows how to hold a brush.

turns out, he does not. it becomes a dark mess within minutes, and your hands and clothes are all dark with ink, and yanqing isn't all better as well

now its a real mess.

sucks for you but, Jing yuan arrives

I need to sleep now aaaaa

[thetriumphantpanda]

"Do you really think you’re in a position to give orders?"

With Joel 😏

Okay, I have had TOO much fun with these prompts today. This is the last one for tonight. I hope you love it! I'll get around to more of these tomorrow! They're super fun and quick to write so I hope you're all enjoying them as much as I am.

Pairing | Joel Miller x Female Reader

Word Count | 612

Warnings | Fingering, some breath play, begging, just general debauchery really.

This is part of my 500 followers celebration. If you want to request a 500 word Drabble, check out this post and head into my ask box. The more the merrier. 

Main Masterlist

“Fuck. Ohmygod Joel, rub my clit.”

You didn’t have much time. It was mid-afternoon. Ellie would be back from school any time now. Joel had evening patrol and if he didn’t leave the house soon, he’d be late. You’d said exactly this when Joel started running his hands over the globes of your ass through your jeans, but who were you to deny him? 

“Do you really think you’re in a position to give orders?” 

He’s not wrong. He’s got you pinned to the bed, one of his impossibly large hands resting at the base of your throat, the other is buried in your pussy, fingers curling up into you at just the right angle that the hairs are standing up on your arms and your legs are shaking already. He’s got a thigh pressed against yours, pinning it open so you’re spread for him, jeans discarded on the floor behind him, with your vest and bra pushed up to expose your tits to the air and his lustful gaze. So no, he’s right, you’re not in a position to give orders, but that’s not going to stop you. 

“The longer you tease me like this the later you’ll be for patrol, and the later you are for patrol is longer you’ll have to wait for me to suck your cock like I always do when you come home.” 

His fingers still inside your pussy and the hand at the base of your throat tightens slightly, cutting off your ability to breathe before he’s loosening his hand, “Maybe I’ll just leave you like this,” He threatens, “All spread out an’ needy, we both know you don’t make yourself feel as good as I do.” 

A filthy moan falls from your lips as he slowly pulls his fingers from your pussy, like he really is going to stop. Your hand grabs his wrist, “Joel, no, please, I’m sorry, I’ll be good I swear.” 

“That’s what I thought,” He chuckles, slipping two of his thick fingers back inside your dripping pussy, “We do this my way or not at all, you understand?” 

You nod your head as his fingers start curling into you again. Your hips are working in tandem with his hand to try and force him deeper, to find something more to tip you over the edge, but you just can’t find it. You really need his fingers on your clit too. You’ve learnt that Joel will always give you the pleasure you really need, but only when he’s good and ready. 

You glance briefly at the clock on the bedside table. He really is late now. He does the same and knows he’s out of time, so his hand is dropping from your throat and is straight on your clit. The pattern of circles is precise. Fast. Combined with the movements of his fingers it was what you needed all along. You close your eyes and there are spots behind your eyes which burst when his fingers finally push you over the edge, you’re practically screaming his name, pussy clenching around his fingers as your body shakes through the aftershocks of your orgasm. 

He pulls his fingers from you, and you watch as he slowly licks your slick from them, one-by-one, in a show that already has want bubbling under your skin again. You can see the prominent bulge in his jeans, your hands itching to get hold of his zipper so you can have your own fun with him. 

“If you hadn’t teased me so much, I could have fixed that before you left.” You speak breathlessly from the bed. 

“Something to look forward to when I come home, sweetheart.” 

[diodellet]

Hello, I saw your valentines post and thought I might join in

I'd really like prompt 3, the one with the dream if them , and Azul from twst

He's my fav of the twst cast and a comfort character (❁´◡`❁)

my pronouns are they/them/he/him, so do whatever you like with that info

maybe it's just me, but in a dream someone would have to do something cute and/or sweet in it to get me flustered and avoiding them (lol I'm weak to fluff but not really spice)

Anyways, I hope you have a lovely day or night and I wish the best of luck to you!

💌Azul Ashengrotto + Prompt #3 (Seeing them in your dreams, being too flustered to face them in real life.)

Dreams end at the most climactic moment. That is to say, right when the zombies catch you or as soon as you hit the ground. The same holds true for good dreams especially.

Which brings you to your current predicament. 

The details were fading away, all that remained burned into your mind were those final moments—a wistful piano instrumental filling the air, the feeling of your hand in his as he led you in a slow dance, a lightness taking over your body as if you were floating, the steady heat of his palm against yours lingering even after you’ve woken up.

Of course, to be further spited by fate, the both of you are paired for a short research paper, carefully looking through the reference section of the library. Together.

“—if we could find more literature on—Hm? Is something the matter?” Azul looks up from the book he was skimming through.

“Oh, it’s nothing. I’ve just got a few things on my mind.” You play it off with a wave of your hand.

He levels a concerned look at you. “Is our class representative overworking himself again?”

“N-no, not this time. It’s nothing, just some personal business.”

“If you say so, then. But if you need a listening ear, just know that I can make room in my schedule to assist you. It would be terrible if I let a dear colleague of mine carry such a burden, wouldn’t it?” There’s something about those words, or maybe his voice, that makes your stomach uneasy. 

There are some things you know about Azul Ashengrotto definitively. Anyone can spot his flair for showmanship. He’s busy, but also approachable. Maybe distant at times, but always polite.

(Not at all like the Azul in your dream. Not like the Azul of now.)

Scratch that point about distance, you didn’t get the memo that the both of you were close enough to be dear colleagues.

But here you are, on the receiving end of his complete and utter attention. It occurs to you now how little you truly know about Azul.

The ring of the bell cuts your conversation short, and you blurt out a flimsy excuse before rushing out and leaving him alone in the library.

a/n: hiiii!! thanks for sending in a request and happy valentines day💕💕 i had a bit of challenge trying to pin down azul's chara because i kept thinking any sweet or tender gesture from him would first of all be off-putting to the target of his affection,,, and that kinda carried through in the writing,,, oops,,, these drabbles weren't meant to contain slowburn tension🤧🤧Either way this prompt was fun to write, i hope u enjoyed reading this💕💕

[letstalkwhump]

Let's Talk Whump

Let's Talk Whump is a series of interviews with the wonderful members of the whump community. I'm Malice and I'll be your host. Joining us today is the one and only @oddsconvert !

Welcome to Let’s Talk Whump! Do you mind sharing a little about yourself?

Hi there, I’m Shannon! I’m a 21 year old psychology and criminology graduate from the UK! My favourite colour is yellow. I basically have a zoo of pets bahaha; I have four cats, a dog, a rabbit, two rats, three fish and two tarantulas (not mine - they terrify the life out of me!)

When I’m not whumping and traumatising my fictional babies, I love to crochet, listening to/playing music (I play piano, guitar, clarinet and ukulele), and I’m currently teaching myself to draw…for whump purposes ;)

What does whump mean to you? 

For me, whump is freedom and release. Not only is it enjoyable, almost like scratching an itch? But it’s cathartic, and what I now see as a healthy coping mechanism for managing difficult feelings and a way to navigate my own trauma. Although, looking back, whump has been something that’s always been an interest of mine since early childhood, and has stuck ever since! Like rewinding disney films when the princes get tied up ahahah.

And also the comfort element of whump, I think it also helps me explore wants and desires in my own life. Writing my caretakers and their fierce protectiveness, and unconditional care over whumpees feels like it heals a part of me that maybe needed that at times. It gives you such a heartwarming feeling when you see these characters go through hell and back, and have someone to fall on at the end who will be there through thick and thin, regardless how choppy the water gets. 

And how did you find the whump community? What made you want to join? 

I used to scour pinterest for writing prompts! I only ever wrote in private, I’ve never EVER shared my work publicly before and never dreamed I would. But the more and more whumpy pins I was saving I was like “hmmm. These all come from the same site! Let’s go check that out” and then I scrolled the  #whump tag for endless hours instead of doing my university dissertation. I remember coming across @deluxewhump and @darkthingshappen first!

At first I joined as a faceless, lurking blog. I really wanted to hop in and join all the creators I was loving so far but I was terrified. I think I had a bio as something like “working up the courage to post.” And then some lovely anon sent me my first ask saying they’d love to see what I’d post! And I slowly crept out of my shell and bit by bit started building my profile and adding my name and posting my whump drabbles!

Pinterest whump prompts gang rise up! That’s exactly how I found the community too! Has your view on whump changed since you joined? 

I used to be ashamed of liking whump. Like it was some dirty little secret that made me a terrible person and I should keep it to myself. Hide it at all costs. Since joining, and interacting with this world-wide community of whump enjoyers, I realised it’s not something that should be taboo. If anything, it almost feels normal! Look how many thousands love it! And every single whump creator I’ve had the pleasure of meeting has been so kind, supportive and such genuine people! 

It really feels like coming home when you find the whump community and realise you’re not a weirdo! Would you like to share your favourite whump tropes? 

I’ve definitely discovered more about my whump taste! I used to just purely like captivity whump, usually with creepy/intimate whumpers. That was always my go to. Now? I’ve discovered SO many tropes I never even knew about and love! BBU?! Pet whump, whumper turned whumpee, bad caretaker, vampire whump, sickfics, hero/villain and so much more! 

Non-optional, you have to share a favourite piece you've written? Hype yourself up, we want to hear it!

Without a doubt, my first ever chapter of ‘Shattered’ - my bloodbag whumpee/vampire whump series. I’m usually very self-critical of my writing, but I really love how this one came out and how well it was written. I pretty much never get whumperflies off my own writing, but my poor sweet Declan - just living dead and the way Vince is forced to take care of him. 

But also honorary mention - my latest chapter of ‘Play Pretend’ . Play Pretend is my baby, and it was the first chapter of this series I had beta’d by my wonderful friend @whumpcereal and I felt like she just took it to the next level and kicked it up a notch. Josh’s fear and exhaustion came to life and I really enjoyed writing his inner monologue!

You weren’t kidding about the whumperflies in “Shattered”! Hot damn! What's your writing schedule usually look like? 

Night time for sure! Dead of night - 3am most often ahaha. I’m a night owl, through and through. I’ll try and write in the day and nothing comes and then night comes and I’m like brrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrr, whole chapter done! I usually have some music on in the background, sometimes I make a specific playlist for whatever vibe I’m feeling! And I mostly write when the inspiration strikes, as much as I can get out until the motivation vanishes.

And do you find that the words flow better for somethings than others?

For me, I find it really easy to write my creepy/intimate whumper scenes. For Play Pretend, writing Felix’s deranged and creepy obsession with Josh just comes so naturally (maybe I should be concerned…). The way he’s so unsettling but so adoring with how he speaks to Josh and touches him, I could write it in a heartbeat.

More recently I’ve been trying to delve into the nsfw portions of whump and writing. But I’m a newbie with it, and I really struggle with writing it or making it sound good. 

Is there anything you're working on at the moment?

My usual schedule swings around, I update my series in an order. It tends to be, A Taste of Your Own Medicine, Shattered, then Play Pretend - and I’ve just updated ATOYOM so Shattered is up next! I’m primarily working on a flashback chapter with August currently! But I dot in and out of future chapters too.

I also have planned future whump series to come whenever my current ones finish up! But that’s a little while off yet. 

Give us some writing advice. Bless us with your wisdom, oh awesome one!!!!!

I WILL SCREAM THIS FROM THE ROOFTOPS - WRITE FOR YOU!

Never ever write based on what you think people like/don’t like.  The absolute joy in writing is the freedom in putting the pen to paper, or cursor to doc , and just letting your imagination run wild. Your audience is out there. People that will love and cheer for your writing, and I think you can really tell when an author has enjoyed and had fun with what they’ve written. There’s no good in getting bogged down with what others think. 

Write for you, post for you, and if others hop along for the ride - all the better!

Is there anyone you’d like to give a shout-out to?

I love absolutely everyone in this community, I’m gonna tag so many people - my besties alongside some of my favourite blogs and creators. Ily all you talented people. 

@whumpcereal @darkthingshappen @sparrowsage @quietly-by-myself @whumpsday @for-the-love-of-angst @emmettnet @turn-the-tables-on-them @yetanotheraltwhumpblog @kira-the-whump-enthusiast @pigeonwhumps @whumpshaped @t0rture-me @ha-ha-one @not-a-space-alien @whump-queen @justsomewhumpee @livelaughwhump @writereleaserepeat and I’M PROBABLY MISSING SOME BUT YOU’RE ALL AWESOME

Finally, anything you'd like to add? 

The whump community has quickly started to feel like home to me, I have a lotta love for whumpblr and every soul I’ve met here! Thank you so much for having me and to whoever nominated me!

It’s been a pleasure! 

Happy whumping, people!

Thank you so much for joining us today, @oddsconvert! And to all you awesome folk at home, have a whump-derful day!

[txemrn]

Hi there! Was there an item Tatum and Ethan bought for their baby that became special because the other parent chose it. Like, not something they bought because they would need it but because they saw it and wanted them to have/wear. 🥹

Hey, anon! Thank you so much for this super sweet Ask! I hope you don't mind, but I turned it into a story that I hope you enjoy! *hugs*

Book: Open Heart (post-series)

Pairing: Ethan Ramsey x f!OC (Tatum Erikson-Ramsey)

Word Count: 2000 (+/-)

Summary: As they prepare for baby Ramsey's arrival, Ethan surprises Tatum with a special, heaven-sent gift.

Warning: 🔞 For mature audiences only 🔞 fairly fluffy; a little language; a little pregnancy talk; discussion of Tatum's brother Trevor (Army vet, deceased)

A/N: I am participating in @choicesflashfics prompt challenge for week #22 (22 weeks! You go girl!); I will be using prompt #3: I am at my wits' end with you (it will be in bold). Special thanks to my dear sister in writing crime @sfb123 for helping me with this title. Some of these characters and plots belong to our friends at Pixelberry. This was not preread or beta'd; please excuse my errors.

~🖤~

"Tate? I'm back, babe."

Kicking off his loafers, Ethan tosses his keys into a decorative bowl next to the front door of their new townhome. The place is eerily quiet, save for a gentle August breeze rustling through the open windows and a family of bluebirds singing a cheerful melody nearby. 

Carrying a brown paper bag, Ethan stops at the base of the stairs, listening intently for his wife. "Tate?" He jogs up a few steps. "Tate? I've got breakfast. Are you up–?"

Suddenly he hears a thunderous crash from inside their master suite downstairs, followed by a distinct shriek for help.

"Shit! Tatum!" Ethan races back down the steps, plowing through their bedroom and into their opulent shared en suite bathroom "Tate?"

A soft string of giggles echo from his wife's walk-in closet, crescendoing into a boisterous laugh with snorts.

"Baby, are you–oh my God!"

Lying on a mound of discarded clothes is Ethan's heavily-pregnant wife, being pinned awkwardly against the wall by her own belly. She pushes against one corner before trying to reach for a nearby built-in shoe rack, but ends up rolling right back into place, her legs stuck up in the air.

"Help!" She squeals into more titters. "I'm gonna… I'm gonna pee on myself!"

Ethan drops the brown sack, rushing over to Tatum's side. He wraps one of her arms around his neck as he squats down, slipping his hand underneath her back. "Ready? Here we go."  With one smooth effort, he lifts Tatum to her feet. He cradles her round abdomen while placing a tender kiss to her forehead. "Jesus, Tate… are you alright?"

She nods, dabbing at her wet eyes as she calms down her snickers.

"What happened?" His voice panics. "Are you hurt? Did you fall?"

She rests a hand on his stubbled face, gently stroking his cheek with her thumb. "My little worry-wart," she croons, pulling him in for a fervent kiss. She gently rubs the expanse of her stomach, her hand brushing against his. "I'm fine. Really. We're fine," she smiles endearingly. "I was rearranging my clothes and, well, I guess there were too many garments. The valet rod broke in half."

"Did you hit your belly?"

She shakes her head. "No. I fell on my butt, but luckily I already had all of these clothes on the floor, so it felt like landing on a cloud."

"I think maybe we should go check on the baby. NST. KB. Just to be safe–"

"Look at you, Mr. Smartie-pants," Tatum jokes before fluttering a sweet kiss on his mouth. "Are you an OB, or do you have a hot wife that's an OB?"

Ethan scrunches his face. "Hot?"

"Hey!" Tatum scoffs, slapping his arm playfully. 

Ethan steps forward, pushing Tatum against the wall before nipping at the delicate skin of her neck. "Try insanely hot." He drags his lips to the crook of her collar bone. "And sexy," he hums across her shoulder, his tongue stroking small circles.

"You forgot hungry–"

"Mmmm… is she now?"

"Rams…"

"Right, right," he smirks, straightening himself out before reaching for their morning bagels. "You'll just wait until I'm half-asleep or walking out the door for that kind of hunger–"

"You don't seem to mind," she sucks in her lips, taking her breakfast as they both take a seat in her closet. "Did they give you–?"

"Mustard?" He raises a quirked eyebrow. "You know I asked for extra. But the looks I got–"

"Don't care." Tatum takes a big bite into her Asiago bagel and schmear, drenched in mustard. She looks up at Ethan who is intently watching her. "Want some? It really is good–"

"I'll take your word for it," he takes a bite of his lox-stuffed bagel. "So," he chews, "what's the plan–err, what was the plan for today?"

"I need to get rid of stuff, and if that rod breaking isn't a sign, I don't know what is," she giggles, taking another bite. "I've got several pairs of pants that I couldn't even fit into a year ago, and I figure,” she rubs her belly, “I will never see that size again, so why am I holding onto them?" She motions to a back corner. "And I have all of those formal gowns that have only been worn once. Once!" Ethan nods as she continues, "so I need to figure out if I'm going to recycle a look or just get rid of ‘em."

"Sounds like a good plan." They fall into a comfortable silence as they finish their breakfast.

"Also," Tatum wipes her mouth, "I think maybe it's time…" she looks at a pile of black and camo-colored shirts on the floor.

"Trevor's clothes?" Ethan knits together his eyebrows. "Are you sure?"

Tatum nods, taking a deep breath. "He would've been upset with me hoarding them all this time. And–" she sighs, "I'm still going to keep a few items, but I don't need all of them, you know?"

Ethan nods in understanding. "If you're absolutely sure–"

"Yeah," she blinks away the gathering pools in her eyes, turning to smile at her husband. "I'm sure. I guess I was scared I would somehow lose part of him or my memory of him, but…" she shakes her head, Ethan instantly taking her hand in his. "That sounds stupid, right?" She chuckles as tears slope down her cheeks.

Ethan shakes his head, squeezing her fingers endearingly. “Not in the least bit.”

Tatum looks up, wiping away her tears before looking at the mound of t-shirts and sweats. "He would've been such a good uncle."

"He is a good uncle, Tate." Ethan's eyes meet Tatum's. "His life will forever be an example to our child of what it means to love unconditionally, what it means to be a hero."

"Damnit, Ethan," Tatum chuckles as streams pour down her face as she silently nods.

He crawls over to his wife, slinking his arm around her shoulders before pulling her close. Placing tender kisses in her waves, he looks at Trevor's old shirts. "We don't have to get rid of them, Tate. Let's just box them up and put them in storage."

"No, no," she wipes her nose on a napkin, "I'll be fine. They need to go." She tenderly pats his thigh, clearing her throat. "Ready to tackle this?"

Ethan kisses her forehead. "Let's do this."

------

[3 Weeks Later…]

"Tate?"  Ethan's bellow echoes through the house. "I thought you were going to help me with this."

"In a minute."

The Ramseys received a special delivery earlier in the day from their good friends,  the Santiagos: a custom-designed, convertible wooden crib. It wasn't completely dismantled, but it still needed to be put together in the nursery. The expectant parents made plans to assemble it that evening, but Tatum was taking her time in the kitchen.

Ethan sighs, pinching the bridge of his nose before he finally trudges down the stairs.

"Tate. I swear to God, if you're eating mus–" his jaw drops as he watches his wife squirt mustard on a strawberry. "Tatum Ramsey!"

"What?" She innocently looks to her husband, wiping the smear of mustard off the corners of her mouth. 

"The mustard… I… I am at my wits' end with you!"

"What?" She puts a dollop on an apple slice.  "It's not like I'm making you eat it–"

Ethan scoffs, "But I have to watch you eat it. On everything."

"At least I'm not eating dirt or laundry detergent or chalk."

Ethan turns up his nose. "Women and their hormones–"

"Uh, mister. Is this the part where I get to be that woman? The woman who makes it abundantly clear that you actually had a huge part–and I do mean huge–" Tatum braces her back with her hand as she turns and points to her nearly-full-term blossomed belly. "-- part in all of this?"

Ethan chuckles, his lips curling as he saunters closer to his wife. "I think that officially makes me a dad: getting blamed for shit for simply, well, being the dad." He softly pecks at her lips... then turns up his nose. “You even taste like mustard.”

“And you think your morning breath is better?” She teasingly reaches to pinch his nipple, but he swats her away. His eyes widen as a mischievous, toothy grin crawls across his face.

“My morning breath doesn’t taste like pungent bitter sauce, meant for a hotdog.” He reaches for her side to tickle, but she playful bats his hand away. However without warning, his other hand swoops in, his fingers wiggling against her other side, digging into her skin.

Tatum lets out a squeal as she kicks and swings her arms. “Ethan Jonah! You are such a–” She grips at his chest again, but before she can twist, he grabs her wrist, lifting it above her head.

“Such a what, huh?” He playfully taunts.

“You are such a rat!” Tatum struggles, finally pulling away from his grip. “You play dirty!” She rubs her wrist; but suddenly, she reaches up and pinches his nipple before twisting it.

“Ow!” Ethan flinches. He grabs his chest, gently massaging the dull sting. “And you think I play dirty?”

Giggling, Tatum scurries up the stairs.

“Tatum Lenae, this means war!” He chuckles as he chases behind her, taking two steps at a time to reach the second level of their home.  He looks around the landing before padding lightly down the hallway.  “Tatum,” he singsongs, “come out, come out wherever you are.” He hears a small gasp coming from the nursery, a knowing grin growing on his face. He takes a deep breath, stifling his laughter. Abruptly, he pushes open the double doors. “Gotcha!”

But Ethan’s face suddenly falls.

Tatum twirls around, her big blue eyes drenched in tears. “Did… did you do this?” Her voice falls hoarse with emotion as she holds out her arms.

Ethan tucks a hand into the pocket of his jeans as he bashfully combs his fingers through his wavy locks.  “Yeah.” He steps forward, his voice timid and gravelly as he gazes into her hands. “I… I did. I was hoping you wouldn’t mind.”

In deep rich earth-ones of olive green, espresso browns and mirky blacks, Tatum flounces out a soft, jersey-knit baby blanket, covered in familiar, worn-out phrases: ‘Army’; ‘Peace through Strength’; ‘Hooah’. 

‘Lt. Trevor McCord Erikson’.

His shirts. They were all there.

“Rams,” she chokes out in a whisper as her fingers trace across the stitching and the reinforced letters, “I… I don’t know what to say.”

“Is it okay–?”

“Baby,” she hugs it tightly to her chest, “it’s absolutely perfect.”

Ethan lovingly takes his wife into his arms as she presses her face into his neck. He nuzzles his nose into her hair, tracing mindless figures on her back, allowing her to take in the moment. 

He knew this gesture would stir up deep emotions for his wife.  One of the hardest challenges of Tatum’s life was continuing on without the one person who believed in her, who loved her, who rescued her. Sure, she had Ethan now, and she couldn’t have dreamt in a million years to have someone so perfectly matched by her side; but no one could replace Trevor.

As she finally catches her breath and settles down, Ethan helps hold up the blanket for her to slowly inspect each detail. “You said,” he whispers, “that he would be mad if he knew you were hoarding these in your closet; but I think he’s more upset that he can’t be here to watch you become a mother, to hold his niece or nephew, to watch them grow. This way… he can”

Tatum lifts her chin, capturing Ethan’s mouth in a tender kiss. “Thank you,” she sniffles, “thank you so much, baby.”  She presses the soft fabric to her face as tender memories of her brother warm her heart. “Is it… alright if I use it? Until the baby comes?”

The corner of Ethan’s lips curls as he nods his head. “Of course... Just don’t get any mustard on it.”

~🖤~

Tags (please let me know if you'd like to be added/removed)

PERMA

@alj4890 @ao719 @charlotteg234 @issabees @kat-tia801 @kingliam2019 @mainstreetreader @mom2000aggie @neotericthemis @nikirennie87 @peonierose @socalwriterbee @tessa-liam

ALL OPH

@alyshak92 @annfg8 @bisexualdisasteracd @cariantha @coffeeheartaddict2 @lsvdw-blog @mvalentine @ofmischiefandmedicine @rookiemartin @starrystarrytrouble @youlookappropriate

~🖤~

Thank you so much for your support! Every like, comment and reblog means the world to me! 🖤

[jancy-central]

Welcome, everyone, to another Spotlight Saturday!

This week we are spotlighting writer @throttlegainwell so read their answers to our ‘Get To Know Your Fic Writer’ questions below the cut. And here is the ao3 link to check out all of their amazing fics:

Reminder: This month’s prompt is ‘soulmates’…

…so please see our pinned post for more info. We have posted a lot of soulmate prompts for those needing some inspiration so check those out as well.

And as always, feel free to message us with any questions, whether you are a fic reader or a fic writer. Both of us write fanfic so we are open to helping however we can. Need a beta? Message us and we’ll either help you or put out a call for beta help! Hit writer’s block? Maybe we can help? Or maybe you just want to recommend a fic? SEND US AN ASK OR A DM!

Happy Saturday! ✍🏼 📖

Spotlight Saturday Questions:

@throttlegainwell’s answers:

1. I guess I prefer one-shots generally, but it's much more satisfying to me to write (and finish!) multi-chaptered fics.

2. A mix of both? There's usually at least some degree of planning for each chapter, but sometimes I just see where it goes.

3. ... It depends on the story. Usually, I'm rushing to slap a bunch of ideas into a document as quickly as I can type (or writing notes on my phone). Lines of dialogue, character ideas, themes I want to address, bits of description or narrative or details to include, plot arcs, whole scenes sometimes... I get those into one doc (which I clean up as I go, if I'm copying them over from my phone), then I create a corresponding doc titled LINEAR that I typically view side-by-side with the fragments/notes doc. I move bits into the LINEAR doc as I work, once I know where they're going or have a place for them (like when I've built the connective tissue), until the first doc is empty; I finish writing in the LINEAR doc. There's usually a brief summary of the story, by that point, in the Synopsis window on the right (I work in Scrivener) so I don’t get too off-track, and I'll probably have some notes in the Notes window, as well as any warnings that will be necessary if I post it (so I don't forget later). But sometimes I just sit down and write, like, an entire story, without thinking about it, or I'll try something stream-of-consciousness or experimental. And sometimes I actually do outline (though sometimes that outline is just a bunch of things that I know need to happen, and I drag those around until the order of them feels like a satisfying arc--I wrote an entire 40k+ story that way).

4. Oh, everywhere, I guess. From the source material, definitely. From books I read, concepts I've studied, themes that just interest me so they tend to crop up in my work or maybe I want to try a different spin on them. Sometimes a story I've written/am writing sparks an idea, or I want to try a variation on it to see where it goes, so I branch off from that. Sometimes I just want something, out of the blue. Occasionally, I browse prompts.

5. Nah. I did the whole concrit thing back in my early fandom days. I'm here to have fun and I assume so is everyone else.

6. Nope! I used to do beta reading, a long time ago, and I've casually edited for fandom friends, but I've never used a beta reader. I don't really see myself starting now.

7. Whichever one is the most interesting for the story or whichever one best serves the story's goals, usually. Sometimes because I haven't tried a particular POV before and I just really want to give it a shot, or because I'm writing it with one voice and the voice of a different POV character just *feels* right or sounds really interesting. But I've been branching out a little! I'm usually very committed to 3rd person limited, but this past year, I've been trying switching POVs a bit, I'm writing one story simultaneously from two different POVs (beginning to end, for each) just because it's such a different story for each character, and I'm writing one from omniscient POV because it was really the only one that would do what I needed.

9. I usually try to! (Not always. But usually.) I don't read a lot of fanfic, due to what I imagine is the very common combination of lack of free time and quite severe concentration issues (though I've always been a big reader and I love it a lot, so this is, needless to say, a massive bummer). It's worse with fiction than non-fiction, so if I actually manage to read a fic, it's a safe bet that I probably took notes during and the author will hear *at length* about all the ways I enjoyed it and what I found really interesting or memorable.

10. I have many WIPs, but blinks only came up in a few. One is too explicit to share here, but here's one: He can’t tamp down a shiver at the thought; he blinks extra hard, resisting the urge to grasp the back of his neck protectively.

11. Ooh. Like I said, I don't read a lot of fic (and I haven't read that many for the ST fandom), but I very much love what maddie_grove is doing with Tonight, Tonight, The Highway's Bright. I wildly enjoyed where the hours bend, by fakelight. And this world is gonna pull through, by scoutshonour, hit just right.

12. I don't tend to expect much feedback. I post because otherwise I'll go back and tinker with fics, and I don't really have the time for that, plus at a certain point it's not fun anymore, but I'm still messing with it. So when it's done enough that I've accomplished what I set out to, I post to free up my brainpower to move on to other things. It doesn't necessarily discourage me to not receive it (usually), but it really does encourage and motivate me when I *do* receive it. If someone enjoys a story and wants to talk about it, I'm likely to write more works in that vein or explore those ideas/characters/fandom more. I’m more likely to go back to a WIP if people are excited about it with me. I've received some truly lovely, thoughtful, analytical, humbling, and memorable feedback, and I hugely appreciate and enjoy all of it.

13. Don’t delete/erase anything. Save it all.

14. I tend to get into a certain headspace to write, but I wouldn't say that I usually feel what the characters are feel. Sometimes, I probably do. (I'm one of those people who moves their lips when they read an emotional scene, so I guess I do get a bit into it while I'm writing! Embodied cognition, what a trip.) I do sometimes draw from personal experience, but typically only in very broad strokes.

15. Happily. :) I've written a LOT of sex scenes over the years, for a lot of different thematic, narrative, and character purposes (and sometimes just for rule of horny, rule of funny, or to explore a particular kink). I approach each one differently, based on the tone I'm trying to set, whether I want it to be particularly erotic or emotional or something else, the level of narrative distance I want the reader to feel, what the characters are like, what the overall genre is. Sometimes I get visual or detailed, depending on what I'm trying to do (and whether I feel those characters would do so or whether it would be a help or a distraction in that moment), but I tend to depict the internal processes more than the physical details. The sensory aspects. The observations, interpretations, and reactions. Connections between characters, if there's more than one. I personally tend toward realism in my sex scenes, but I'm not going to pretend that I don't skirt the edges sometimes or just say fuck it and throw realism out the window for a particular story. But I don't think realism is necessary in smut (or any fiction, when it comes down to it). It's a matter of preference.

16. Omg how many fic ideas am I NOT nurturing right now. Way, way too many. Here's a Jancy one that hasn't quite made it to the WIP stage (still in the synopsis-in-dedicated-doc stage): Jonathan and Nancy break up over the college thing. (It’s not really the college thing.) Years later, as they're both settled into their careers (Jonathan as a photographer, Nancy as a journalist, both constantly traveling for work and hard to reach), they end up sharing a room when they visit for Lucas and Max's wedding. Lots of angst, lots of pining, lots of denial, and ultimately an exes-getting-back together story. Sometimes you just want the cliche done your way.

17. I just don't write, tbh. I try to address whatever issue is preventing me from writing (if possible) or (if it's beyond my control) I just accept that it's not a writing period of my life. I'm happier when I'm writing regularly, and I do think it's good for me overall, but I'm not going to let hobby writing cause me genuine stress. (I've got non-hobby writing for that, ha.) I take it as a sign that something is wrong or that I'm just tired of writing and need to recharge (by engaging some other interest or hobby for a while).

18. Depends. Sometimes the title comes first, sometimes during, sometimes after. Sometimes I really do just fall in love with a title, though. I rarely struggle to title fics after the fact, but when I do, I'll just slap a quick and vague title on there and call it a day. Often it's a pun or something relevant, sometimes an important line from the story, sometimes lyrics. I have a series of art-related titles for some Will stories I want to do and some science ones I have saved for some Dustin stories. Some photography terms for Jonathan. Stuff like that.

19. Turns out it's hurt/comfort! This should surprise no one.

20. Oh, have I ever. Yeah, I've had people read enough of my work to point out themes that I tend to tackle a lot (I'm big on autonomy, resilience, and kindness--you'll see them repeated a LOT in my work, from different angles--and, yeah, I write about trauma a lot), and I definitely have some words/expressions that pop up a lot (and with each passing year, I try a little less to cull them). Also, you'd be hard-pressed to find a story of mine where someone isn't making, drinking, or talking/thinking about coffee. No reason. It just... seems to happen.

21. I had a shared 'verse with a friend, a long time ago. It was a huge amount of fun. We really gelled and produced just tons of material for it that had us in tears laughing and, you know, was also incredibly horny. That was a shared 'verse, rather than a collaboration for an entire story, but, yeah, I'd say that I'd be willing to collaborate. I don't consider myself terribly reliable or consistent, though, so I worry that a potential writing partner would find this frustrating.

22. I used to think so, but, honestly, I've been proved wrong many times, so I'd say no, not really. There's not a lot that I absolutely won't write. There are a few things that remain pretty serious squicks for me, but I'm sometimes able to write about things that I would find difficult to read. Some things also don't necessarily interest me or I would find it technically difficult to write them.

23. Don't worry about making it beautiful. Just get it all down. (You can’t sculpt what’s not there, you know?) And in that vein: write EVERYTHING down. Even if you’re not sure it works. Don’t assume you’ll remember or won’t need it. Just write everything.

24. Anything that's involved regimentation. That just doesn't work for me in every case. It's important to be flexible, both to discover what *does* work for you or to be able to move between different strategies for different stories or at different times in your life. Close second, though: that you should mine your pain to write because that's where true art comes from. That advice is shit. Sometimes art is aliens fucking in a time warp and also there's a ghost with daddy issues. Write whatever the hell you want. It does not have to be profound literature to be a good story.

25. For my ST fics? I think I've gotten a pretty decent response for most of what I've posted, considering it's all very niche and this is a massive fandom (and one to which I came extremely late and very recently). I guess a little more response for already wise, already worn might have been nice, just because it's a weird little experimental story that I think actually came out really neat, but it's *very* niche so I never expected much response. Or possibly Two Steps Forward, just because I think it's an interesting little ghost story that's different from everything else I have posted, and I really do have a soft spot for gen works.

26. For my ST fics, our future foe scenarios is a pretty odd one. We've got Nancy really feeling her big sister duties while also kind of worrying about Jonathan, making out with him, then convincing the Party to let her earnestly and VERY awkwardly talk to them about the importance of consent (and kind of roping Jonathan into helping her, which he's not happy about but dutifully does). It’s kind of clumsy, but she means well.

27. I love when the ideas slot into place, when I know where things are going, I see how it's moving, and I get all the pieces lined up so it's a straight shot to the end. Extremely satisfying. I dislike working out the kinds of technical details that I'd prefer to gloss over but that are sometimes story-significant, like ages and timelines. I'm increasingly just ignoring that shit.

28. Apparently I'm getting several thousand words done a day, on average, with as many as 6-7k some days. But I'm happy if I just do a couple hundred, or a line or two. This has just been an unusually productive year for me.

29. Ideally: I ignore it for a couple of weeks until I've forgotten the shape of it, then I read it over with fresh eyes. Increasingly: when it's written, I go over it for typos, overall continuity, basic coherence, and (if it covers sensitive themes) to make sure that I'm not inadvertently presenting something wildly hurtful or counter to my goals. And then I just call it done.

30. I'd say that I never really polish all that much to begin with, these days. I mostly post 1st drafts, even though there's typically stuff that I would pretty easily catch and adjust if I gave it a real once-over. I've just decided that I'm okay with not fussing with it very much. But I share WIPs these days, some of which are pretty rough. (I did not used to do this that much.)

[bullet-prooflove]

Donna’s Wednesday Radio Show Prompt List #21

It’s that time again! The Wednesday Radio prompt list!

I have an empty Ask Box so let's fill it!

Please check the updated character list on my pinned post to see who I am writing for before submitting a prompt!

Also do not forget to put the entire prompt into your ask!

And there's no one in here living Gonna make it out alive

How can I trust you after what I've been through?

Toying somewhere between love and abuse

Show me all your tatt's, not just the ones that's on your hands

I want this more than life

And the moon is out and the stars are bright

Why I can't move on

And so I came to see him, and listen for a while

The sun on your face

Can we take this off and get naked?

show up at your door

she sets the world on fire Just to watch the sucker burn

I could tell when you locked the door just what was going on

There must be a good reason that you're gone

he'd found my letters and read each one out loud

I don't need your sympathy

She's the angel of small death and the codeine scene

She said she never envisioned him the type of person capable of such deceit

I just like it when you grab my hips

Well, why, why did you mess it up?

I just heard you found the one you've been looking for

Baby, you're so anxious, you can't take it

We could take it to the kitchen I'll be on the island, come and eat,

You've had your chance, and now you want more

Touch me, baby

Boy, can we take off all our clothes?

Boy, you deserve a show

After we fuck, I'ma wanna cuddle

And I've been a fool and I've been blind 

Come on, baby, I can call your bluff

I love you, but I love me more

I don't wanna play no more, leave everything on the floor

Here to relive your darkest moments

Now it's safe to finish what we started

It's bloody and raw, but I swear it is sweet

Regrets collect like old friends

You can leave open windows, don't care who see me out my clothes,

Singing my life with his words

Heels on, waiting at your door

Would you stay if she promised you heaven?

Didn't have a dime but I always had a vision

And every demon wants his pound of flesh

Clue number one was when you knocked on my door

I like to keep my issues drawn

Light up your wildest dreams

I can never leave the past behind

Be something greater Go make a legacy

Now he hurt you and you hurt me

But I like to keep some things to myself

And I am done with my graceless heart

Kind of dress you're wearing tonight

Well, she moves like lightning

I really don't think you're strong enough

I heard he sang a good song, I heard he had a style

don't give up, it's a little complicated

Say my name

First impression of you is you really like to party

Rewrite your history

So save your breath and Walk away

Everybody got a breakin' point kid

You try to tell me that we're so deep in love, Well, if we were, then why did we fuck it up?

Don't come back knockin' at my door

I am not the one To sit around, and be played

Do you expect me to believe that you've changed?

Told you before that love isn't enough

Strumming my pain with his fingers 

There's nothing you can say or do for me

You'll never see me cry

I overdosed

And that's when I knew, it was a pretty good sign That something was wrong 

I wish I would have known that wasn't me

Well it may be wrong but baby it sure feels right

Where did you sleep last night?

Cause I've had time to think it through And maybe I'm too good for you

Was she worth it?

Cause tonight you will be mine,

There's no talking to you

You'll never change for no one

he's holding onto you so tight The way I did before

And there ain't no place that I'd rather be

We don't talk anymore

Now put your hands up, this is a heist

Getaway car for two young lovers

It's so sad that you're leaving

Me and the girl straight out of town

You better throw a party on the day that I die

And we can't go back but you're here with me

Yeah, she's a genius (genius), watch and learn

[herofics]

Hello, hello! I saw your recent post about Hawks comforting a suicidal reader, and I got curious with other writing prompts you made. Little did I know, I would grow to love it very much! I'll definitely read more of your posts in my spare time, thank you for making these!

Anyways, I hope I didn't catch you in a bad time. IF, and only IF you're feeling up to it, I'd like to request a Hawks x female reader who has AWFUL social skills and stutters a lot. It's not that she has anxiety, but it happens too often to the point people sometimes misunderstand her. Nonetheless, she tries REALLY hard to communicate with people, especially with Hawks. Little did anyone know, she has a passion for drawing! One day, the reader decided to finally confess her feelings to Hawks; however, there's a twist. The reader was never really good with words in the first place. Instead, she decided to give him a sketchbook filled with little sketches, paintings and complete drawings of him, the reader, or together, with a bit of aesthetic shtick going on (old timey newspapers, Latin quotes in papyrus, colorful pressed flowers, you know, those kinds of dark/light academia aesthetics you see everywhere). To add the cherry on top, a note on top of the sketchbook says, "You are the walking embodiment of the quote, 'What if I fall? But darling, what if you fly?' Thank you for inspiring me to be bolder and for being with me. I love and appreciate you, Chicken Feet."

I'm not sure if this idea had been done, but don't feel pressured to do it whether or not it has been written down. Again, thank you very much, and I wish you the best day!

Have a Chikim Kigs for all your troubles ^^

Sounds very familiar tbh, I’m super awkward and anxious socially, and I absolutely suck at talking to people. When I really need to tell someone something, I write it down and send it to them as a message, because I suck at talking. I think this is a really cute idea and I hope I did it justice. I have a masterlist in the pinned post where you can find all my stuff categorized by character. I hope you have a great day, I’m certainly having a good one :D

•You’re not very good with talking to people, but you do really try

•People still seem to misunderstand you a lot, and sometimes they even get irritated at you

•Sometimes people just don’t even make the effort to understand, but Hawks does

•He’s very patient with you and if he feels like he’s maybe misunderstanding you, he asks more questions to make sure and the situation usually resolves itself like that

•You and Hawks have been friends for a while now, and you’ve fallen for him pretty hard

•You’re not at all sure if he would return your feelings, he’s always been pretty hard to read and not just for you

•Hawks doesn’t really reveal much about himself, even to the people closest to him, but he does feel really safe and relaxed with you

•You started working on your little sketchbook project about a month before you gave it to Hawks

•It was a fun project but when you finally decided it was ready and you wanted to give it to him, you were super nervous

•You didn’t know how he was going to react, but you knew that if he was going to reject your feelings, he was going to do it kindly, that’s just the kind of person he is

•Hawks came over to your place since you were going to go to lunch from there

•You seemed really nervous for some reason, which he picked up on immediately

•So of course he asked you if something was wrong, and you just handed him the sketchbook and requested he would take a look at it

•He started flipping through it and you could see his pupils getting bigger with each page, like cat’s eyes do

•He was also smiling like a total dork, because he was so happy

•You felt a wave of relief wash over you as he flipped through it and he seemed to be very happy with what he was seeing

•Hawks had been super nervous about telling you how he felt, because he didn’t really know if you would return his feelings

•Your lack of social skills make you a bit hard for him to read, but he did have an inkling about you maybe liking him back

•When he got to the end of the sketchbook, he saw your little text bit with the “Thank you for inspiring me to be bolder and for being with me. I love and appreciate you, chicken feet”

•He suddenly hugged you were tightly and whispered in your ear “I love you too, dove”

•You felt all the nervousness leave your body as he said that and you hugged him back after you got over the initial shock

•You were so happy he returned your feelings and also that he liked your way of confessing to him

•Hawks is over the moon and the two of you also go through the sketchbook together because he wants to know how you made it

[youzicha]

Visible Cities

Marco Polo is still entertaining Kublai Khan by describing fictional cities, but during his sojourn in Xanadu he has been practicing drawing, so now he illustrates them while he speaks…

MP The marvelous city of Zed, oh Khan, is arranged in long neat rows of identical houses, stretching out in both directions forever. In front of each house there is a single flower pot, and in each pot grows a single sprig of mint. In the morning, while the sun is still low in the sky and the air is bracing cold, the wives in the houses step out to rub the mint leaves with their fingers, but without plucking them. They pause to—

KK Hang on a second. What’s behind the houses? Are there flower pots there as well?

MP No, the pots are only in front of the houses. The space in the back is empty.

KK I can’t see that in the drawing though. The house blocks the view. Really, there could be anything behind it.

MP But, um. Okay. Let’s do it this way; I’ll change the drawing to make the houses transparent. This way you can see the back lot also, and confirm that it is empty.

KK Very clarifying, thank you. Although I can only see the back lots in the foreground. Near the horizon they get so small that they are unreadable. Maybe there are still flowers behind those houses?

MP I actually intended all the houses to be identical, even if it is hard to put that into the drawing. I think this line of questioning goes a bit against the spirit of the exercise, which was more like a— But wait, it seems some of your courtiers have comments too.

DZ Yes. I wanted to ask, earlier you said the city stretches away forever?

MP That’s right.

DZ I think that’s wrong. Actually the city is on the surface of a cylinder, so it is bounded in size. If you walk far enough in a straight line you will get back where you started.

MP But look at the drawing! I made the ground completely flat.

DZ It looks flat in practice because the city is very big. You can’t see the subtle bend.

EN If I may interject. I think we may trust the artist that this part of the city is flat and infinite. But that doesn’t mean that the entire city is like that. There might be another part, hanging in the sky, which is curled up in a giant loop.

MP But the sky is completely empty, I didn’t draw anything at all there.

EN The disconnected part might be floating very far away, so it would just look like a tiny speck, too small to see. That’s consistent with what you drew.

MP Could I have one more cup of this excellent jasmine tea? And I think I will need another hash brownie.

✵✵✵

This is of course an allegory for the philosophy of math that I tried to sketch in a previous post (prompted by @raginrayguns). Mathematical structures (e.g. the integers) are fictional and imagined; the mathematician describes the setting, and then you try to think through hypothetical scenarios (if you rub the mint in your fingers, what will it smell like?).

My point of transposing it into art/fiction is to say that the suspension of disbelief that this requires seems pretty modest, comparable to what we do when think about any kind of fiction or hypothetical scenario. When Doron Zeilberger writes “I believe that finite integers, finite sets of finite integers, and all finite combinatorial structures have an existence of their own, regardless of humans … What is completely meaningless is any kind of infinite, actual or potential. … the sum and product of any two integers is well-defined only if the result is less than p”, that seems to imply that Marco Polo’s story is “completely meaningless”, which seems too harsh! Can you really not use your imagination a little bit, Zeilberger?

Similarly for the claim that it is impossible to pin down what the “standard” integers are, because any description we could write down in first-order logic will also apply to some nonstandard structures. When it comes to something as simple and natural as the natural numbers, that also seems odd to me. Could Edward Nelson really not guess which layout, of the many city plans consistent with the drawing, Marco Polo had in mind? Is it really pointless to say that something would be true in that city, even if it might not be true in some of its nonstandard sisters? And are there not lessons to be learned from the imagined life in Zed that can guide us in our own grids of asphalt and silicon..?

[greypetrel]

WIP (almost) Wednesday!

Tagged by @shivunin (thank you! <3), I could wait a hour to post it and make it a WIP Wednesday but I'm bound from here to finish another prompt, SO.

Tagging @melisusthewee (beating you on time for once) and @star--nymph. Again, don't worry if you want to ignore this! And if you're not tagged but would love to: say Friends and enter (and consider yourself tagged).

So, it's been a hectic week work-wise and I don't have much new to show, so I'll go for the list as well...

Dragon Age:

- Home Was Never on the Ground: AKA the Monster Fic. I'm slowly making my way up Chapter 26, I'm being slower because this is following an idea that got discarded by the writers but that I found cool. I just need to cause an explosion and convince Aisling to please wait before pestering Solas with much overdued questions, and maybe I could edit and post it.

- DadWolf AU: I'm writing here and there, but I'm containing myself if not for prompts. I would really like to make this more structured than not Monster fic, and before starting I want to have the full picture outlined. The thing that I'm still mulling over is the villain: I'd love to just... Keep Corypheus away and make it more a "Mages vs Non-Mages" thing as in DA2. I just need to settle all the pieces of the puzzles together and it's where we're getting quite different from the game. Solas is in the open with people close to him (Varric knows he's the DreadWolf, Aisling and Dorian got told when they got big enough, Malcolm knew as well and I suppose the other Hawkes too), the main issue will be the Venatori trying to get their hands on Fen'Harel Orb. Again, I still need to pin point some things but we're getting there, I have a rough outline.

- DA2: I've been pondering over whether to make an anthological AO3 collection of DA2 ficlets. Which may even bring me to write more about it without prompts, but take this with a grain of salt. I add below a stamp of a WIP I've been working on and I am stressing over. Following @ndostairlyrium (tag! You're it! AH!) suggestions over colouring and trying to put it into practice. Picture me screaming internally and I may or may not have done the shading twice. (and using too many levels forgive me Ali for my colouring loco)

Originals:

- The Last Bacchae: It's been THE YEAR since September, but I'm finally -hopefully- getting my shit together and going forward with Chapter 6. It's an urban fantasy, main character Seren litterally stumbled over Dionysos (THE Dionysos) and got a contract as an intern Bacchae. Her family may not be entirely happy about it. Chapter 6: we're camping at Hephaistos' house, he's of course extremely happy to have 4 of his siblings around and 2 mortal teens there (he's the only one who cooks, go figure). Right now Seren is making friends with him on being two grumpy introverts, good at their passions enough to result annoying for all the family. You could read it here if you're curious: @thelastbacchae

- Till Queendom Come: I blocked myself writing a chapter which was honestly more than I could chew. I have primary sources I'm following, but between the crippling doubt over whether I'm reading them good and the extreme unpleasantness of this particular bunch of research... I'm kinda blocked. I'm slowly making my way up and I miss 5 pages to end this chapter. Still I'm quite tearing my hair off over it and crying because half of the time I feel like I'm the wrong person to write this story, the other half I'm quite in love with it and want to go on. Busy period doesn't help. I'll get there... Slowly.

[secretobsessionstuff]

Can you write a Michah and Alexei fic where Alexei is sick and delirious. I’d also love for you to include these requests from the fluffy caretaker list 28,29

Thank you! The prompts come from THIS lovely post and I used:

28. "You can't stay on the cold floor all night."

29. "You haven't kept anything down in hours. I think I should take you to the hospital."

---------------------

Micah was browsing pet adoption websites, looking for a cat for the two of them—he tried not to be too saddened by the fact that Alexi was afraid of dogs—when he came across a grey and white fellow named Jack. If Alexi hadn’t walked into the bedroom at that exact moment, there probably would have been a feline tenant living with them the very next day. 

“Hi,” Alexi mumbled sadly from in the doorway, effectively delaying the potential arrival of a cat named Jack. 

Micah looked up from his computer screen and set his laptop aside when he saw the sallow look to his boyfriend’s face. “Well, hello? I know you didn’t look this bad when you left this morning. What’s going on?” 

Alexi got his knees up on the bed and flopped onto the covers. His hair sprawled out around his head. “I think I’m sick,” he told the blankets because Micah certainly didn’t hear him with his face smooshed into the bed. 

“What was that?” 

Yellow curls framed Alexi’s face as he lifted his head up to speak. “I am feeling…under the weather. Very far under the weather.” 

Micah smirked at the strange way that Alexi said it. But then he pouted. “Aw come here, love. What’s bothering you?” 

As Alexi practically climbed on top of his boyfriend, Micah thought that maybe they didn’t need a cat. Alexi was already invading enough of his personal space as it was. All that was needed was a purr, but Alexi let out a moan instead. 

“My head hurts,” he mumbled into Micah’s chest. “And my throat—” Before he could finish naming off symptoms, a loud gurgle rippled through his stomach. 

“And your belly?” Micah asked with a smirk. With their bodies pressed together, he felt every movement and flip of Alexi’s upset stomach. 

“That too.” Alexi wished he could get closer to Micah, to cuddle deeper, but there wasn’t much more he could do—he was already on top of the boy. Oh, but he really did feel so sick that he just wanted to dissolve in the hug. Every muscle was sore. Every ache pulsed through his body. He felt that pulse deep in his belly

“You know,” Micah began, “with that fever, you’re a perfect weighted blanket.” 

“I have a fever?” 

“I hope so, or else I’ll only want to cuddle in the winter.” Micah was sweating beneath the weight of his boyfriend. The heat rolled off his body in waves and came crashing towards Micah who was pinned to the bed. “You’re like a furnace, Lexi.” 

“I’m sorry,” Alexi said, rolling off. Now on his back, he stared up at the ceiling, his eyes burning and watering. 

Micah sighed and got up from the bed. “I was going to make grilled cheese for dinner. Do you want some?” Alexi gave him a sour look. “Oh come on, you need to eat something.” 

“No I don’t. Just let me wither away.” 

“You’re so dramatic,” Micah said as he reached for Alexi’s hand. It was like pulling a dead body out of water. Eventually he got Alexi out of bed and into the kitchen where he promptly folded his arms on the table to rest his head. 

Micah didn’t mind. He began making grilled cheeses for the two of them. Alexi’s meal came with a side of gourmet paracetamol. 

Micah gently set the plate down in front of Alexi, making sure that the noise wouldn’t hurt Alexi’s head too much. “Try to eat. You’ll need it if you’re getting sick.”

Alexi scoffed at the word ‘getting’, but he nibbled slowly on the sandwich anyway. 

Halfway through the meal—Micah had finished, but Alexi was still working his way through the food—Micah took the opportunity to bring up his new friend Jack. Okay, he might have been using Alexi’s tired state to his advantage, but it was for a good cause. “So,” he started, “I found a cat in need of adopting. He’s really close by and his name is Jack. The website says he’s cuddly and that he’s been there almost the longest. What do you say?” 

Alexi didn’t say anything. He was staring down at his half-eaten sandwich. The edges of his vision got dark the way they always did when he was looking through a fever. His throat bobbed up and down, despite him no longer taking bites of his sandwich. The cheese had gone cold and congealed between the slices of bread. He didn’t care anymore because his stomach could not handle another bite. He swallowed thickly and looked up at Micah with drooping eyes. There were red spots on his face from where he held his head in his hands. 

“…Honey?” Micah said hesitantly. An unconscious part of his mind already knew what was going to happen because he was half-way out of his chair before the first gag escaped from Alexi’s mouth. 

Alexi lurched forward, his abdomen hitting the edge of the table as a retch tore up from his throat. A gush of sick came splattering onto the wooden surface. He was too tired to move. With his head hung low and vomit dripping from his lips, he muttered, “I’m sorry.” 

Micah was on the other side of the table in an instant. “No, no, okay, don’t be sorry.” 

Another heave left Alexi retching over the puddle that he just created. More sick rushed from his mouth and joined the mess with a squelching sound. 

“Oh God,” Micah sighed. He stood over Alexi, rubbing his shoulders while his stomach rejected everything he just ate, and most of his lunch by the looks of it. 

Alexi belched up a thin stream of pale vomit, sobbing in between bouts. 

“Shh, everything’s okay,” Micah whispered. “You’re okay, Lexi.” 

The vomiting tapered off into empty gags, finally giving Alexi the chance to breathe. He panted and sniffled. There was vomit splashed onto his arms, and he didn’t even want to look at the mess on the table. Instead, he turned toward the still-standing Micah, and buried his face in his boyfriend’s stomach. 

Micah pulled Alexi’s head against his body, petting down his hair with constant, slow movements. The heat was alive and seeping from his scalp. “Oh, you poor thing. You’re really sick, love” 

Tears and snot dried into Micah’s shirt as Alexi pulled away. He looked up to see the soft, concerned expression on his boyfriend’s face. “I don’t like this, Micah.”

“Aw, I know. I’m sorry you’re feeling so shitty.” 

“Will you help me to the bathroom? I’m not done.” 

Alexi greeted the bathroom floor like an old friend. He knelt down on the tiles, appreciative of the cold shot that hit his cheeks. He stayed there until his stomach decided to send up the rest of its contents. 

From the doorway, Micah watched his boyfriend curl into a fetal position on the floor. He frowned at the awful sight. There was a mess he needed to clean up before he could join Alexi though. “I’m going to clean off the table. I’ll be right back,” he said casually, as if he were only going to clear off plates and cutlery. He waited for a response from Alexi but got nothing. He tried one more time. “You okay for a while, baby?” 

Maybe Alexi gave a nod. Maybe. It was unclear. 

Micah dumped Alexi’s plate in the sink and let the water clean everything away. He got a rag and used it to clean off the table. Micah did all these movements robotically. His arms and hands wiped the rag across the surface, but his mind was elsewhere; it was in the bathroom where he could hear Alexi moaning on the floor. 

“Okay, my love,” he said to Alexi when he joined him on the cold tiles, “everything is clean, so there’s nothing to worry about.” 

“I’m really sorry.” The sick boy barely moved his lips to speak. 

“Hey, what did I just say?” 

There was a long pause. Alexi had a vacant look in his eyes. It made Micah uneasy because it seemed like Alexi was looking through him. Or maybe he wasn’t seeing anything at all, only lonely darkness. From Micah’s perspective, it looked like the darkness was pulling Alexi deeper into himself, into a space where nothing made sense. 

Alexi squinted in confusion. “I don’t know.” 

“You don’t know what, honey?” 

“I don’t know what you just said.” 

“I—” Micah licked his lips and frowned. “I—” he sighed. “…It doesn’t matter.” 

Despite Alexi saying that he wasn’t done throwing up, he spent a surprisingly long time on the bathroom floor not throwing up. And Micah stayed with him for hours. Every time that Alexi jerked in his fevered sleep, Micah tensed up. He’d been ready to guide Alexi to the toilet, and to rub his back. But nothing ever happened. 

Micah must have fallen asleep as well because when he opened his eyes, his phone told him that they’d been lying there for hours. He grunted and sat up. Alexi was a puddle of sweat, sleeping fitfully. He checked the boy’s temperature with his palm and found his skin still burning. It felt worse than before. 

Micah took the opportunity to grab more medicine for Alexi and a glass of water. 

Night had certainly arrived while they’d been huddle in this small space. At first, Micah didn’t want to wake Alexi up, but a few things changed his mind. The first was that Alexi’s neck was angled awkwardly with how he slept. The next was that the boy kept mumbling in his sleep. It was frantic and hushed, meaning Micah couldn’t make any sense out of it. Even if Alexi’s had been talking loud enough for Micah to hear, it wouldn’t have mattered because it was probably feverish gibberish anyway. The pained and twisted expression on Alexi’s face told Micah that he was slogging his way through a nightmare. 

With all that, Micah didn’t feel too bad about shaking his boyfriend awake. Alexi’s eyes were glassy and bloodshot. “Here take this.” He handed him the pills before he was alert enough to protest. 

“Good job, babe,” Micah said after Alexi had swallowed the pills with a grimace. “Alright, let’s get you to an actual bed.” From his crouched position, Micah slapped his legs to say let’s go. He grabbed Alexi’s hand to help him up, but the boy did not move. 

Micah let out a frustrated sigh. “Alexi, you can't stay on the cold floor all night. Do this for me, please.” 

“No…” Alexi whined. Micah didn’t catch it, but it was closer to French than to English. Closer to Non, than No. It also happened to be what Alexi was mumbling over and over in his sleep, amidst other words that Micah would not have known. 

“Please,” Micah continued to plead with him. 

Alexi shook his head like a child. He didn’t want to go to his bed because he knew, as soon as he was woken up, that he was going to be sick. He’d been too drowsy to stop Micah from feeding him medicine, but he was awake enough to say something now. If only it came out in English. “J’vais êt’ m'lade”

Micah sighed and rubbed his eyes. “Ah slurred French, that’s always a good sign when you have fever.” 

True to his words, Alexi heaved. It was thankfully dry—a warning.

Micah fortunately heeded the warning. “Oh okay,” he said taken aback by the sudden development. He had a pretty good idea what Alexi had mumbled. “Thanks for telling me…in French!” At this point, Micah felt like he was talking to air. There were no answers, no reactions, just a poor boy too sick to do anything but be sick. 

He helped Alexi over to the toilet bowl just in time for the next heave which was not dry. With a wet belch, the remainder of his stomach contents splashed into the water, along with the medicine that he just took. It hurt his throat and made blood rush to his pounding head. 

This round of vomiting was agonizingly stretched out over a much longer period of time. And it continued in a nauseous cycle. First Alexi would swallow excessively as the next bout prepared to rush up from his belly. Then he’d get too tired and just let the saliva drip into the toilet. Then finally the dreaded wave of sick escaped past his lips. But that was not the end. This series repeated itself until a new step was added: dry heaving.  

This was also the step when Alexi started to cry. With sick hanging off his lips and his chest burning, he begged for Micah to make it stop. “I’m so tired, Micah,” he said breathlessly.

“I know.” Micah felt like crying as well. This was too much, and he didn’t know how to make it better for his boyfriend. Not to mention that Alexi’s fever was still burning its way through his body. He was beginning to think that they needed more help than what he could provide. 

Alexi wiped his mouth and said, “Can I go to bed now?” 

Micah bit his lip to keep from making a sound. He wanted to say yes. All he wanted was to tuck Alexi safely into bed, but that wasn’t an option anymore. Alexi skin was grey and dry, and even though he was crying, there were no tears on his cheek. So, he couldn’t go to sleep just yet. 

“I know you’re tired, baby, but…” Micah began, feeling like the worst boyfriend in the world. Alexi looked so hurt. 

“But what?” 

Micah sighed, for probably the hundredth time. “You haven't kept anything down in hours. I think I should take you to the hospital.” 

“Okay.”

“Okay?” Micah looked up expectantly. 

“Yes. I want this to be over.” 

“Me too.” Micah quickly picked himself off the floor and did the same for Alexi. “I know you don’t want to go, but this’ll be good. I promise. It’ll make you better—”

“—Micah, I trust you. Just help me.” 

[a-libra-writes]

hi! I hope this is okay to ask, if not that’s okay too^^

I’m a (fanfic) writer also! I love writing but I often struggle with coming up with ideas. I dont have a big following on tumblr (I dont publish my works here), which makes it difficult because I can’t really take reader requests.

I was wondering if you have any tips for coming up with writing topics when you’re stumped? Thank you, I really look up to your work.

Oh this is a fun message!! Ok sorry if i ramble, but i love talking about writing and craft! Im also gonna reblog a specific post of writing advice and encouragement that i adore.

I'd start with what's your favorite sort if fic to write - is it classic multi-chapter fics, oneshots, head canons? Which ones really stood out to you - what were their tropes, tags, the characters? Now, which of those you kind of liked, but something felt off? Was it the prompt, something in the plot, something in the characterization? And which ones peeved you so much you just had to click off - what about those annoyed you?

This will help you visualize what you look for in fanfic, and what sort of scenarios and characterization click with you. If you're writing a single character, that's much easier to work with than say, 10 (or 30~40 .... word to aspiring and new writing blogs ....... maybe give yourself a character limit orz........)

You'll find some characters come naturally to you, wether because they're your favorite or a character archtype you just "get". Some you'll love but still struggle with - I remember being so worried with writing Roose and Tywin from ASOIAF, because they're subtle and more complex. And honestly, I don't like my early work with them ... but I kept at it. You gotta keep at it. Now I'm pretty confident in writing them; it took a while to get there!

((Also I think all writers in general should consider what their strengths and flaws are - this can be hard to pin down objectively, especially after staring at your own work for hours! Think what your favorite parts of writing are. Which parts in your story are giving you that rush of excitement, and why? Which parts are you dreading to work on?))

I think some topics/scenes will jump at you and beg to be written, but it's annoying when you want to write your fav and you're drawing a blank. While requests can be great for this - I've gotten so many delightful ones - you also need to draw from your own creative well. So, how?

Reading other fic is a great inspiration. Don't be afraid to say someone directly inspired you - link to them and mention them! - and build off that. As I said earlier, what if you read a fic that had a great plot or scenario, buuuut you would've done something different? "What if" is a great starter. If you're writing reader insert stuff like this blog, draw from your own experiences in life. Or maybe there was something in the show/book/movie/etc that you really wanted to see, but it didn't happen. What if this character didn't die? What if this major event went differently? "What if" is the basis of all fanfic - besides smooching, that is.

(You can also take a prompt you read in one fandom fic and apply it to another! "Oh i love this reader insert story from Show A, how would my blorbos from Movie B respond in the same situation?")

And on that note, sometimes it's fun to write what personally comforts you and what's your personal fantasy. Requests revolving around family life and kids are easy because I love that shit, and it's something I'd think up on my own without prompting. Lists are great for this - what do you like to write best? What scenarios or characters are you curious about exploring? Brainstorm and make notes! Daydream! Discuss with other fandom friends! You don't have to sit down and chunk out a complete 2.5k+ word fic for every idea. Sometimes just the notes and brainstorming is enough, sometimes you'll wanna explore further.

I feel like most writers will understand that feeling when an idea just grabs them and they have to pursue it. Requests and suggestions are all well and good, but at the end of the day, write what grabs you. That's what you'll put your heart into and feel proud of. It may stay a 300 word drabble or sprawl into multiple chapters of madness, or fall somewhere in between - it's your fic!

[darkkitty1208]

Hullo. Welcome.

I've been thinking of doing a pinned post for a while now but never got the chance to (read: I thought about it, procrastinated, and then forgot), so... yeah. It must be weird for my long-time followers to suddenly see a "Hey there! Welcome to my little corner of the internet!" post but, here we are. A couple years late, too. Anyway.

I'm Kitty. I go by she/they. I'm a fanfiction author. All my works are posted on my ao3.

This blog is for me to share my writing, interests, and/or other hobbies. Feel free to drop an ask or slide in my messages if you fancy a little chat -- I don't bite. :)

My current fandom focus is the MCU, mainly anything about Stephen Strange, but I tend to shift through different fandoms like BBC Sherlock and the lot. I'll do you a favour and not list them all here because, well, in that case, it'll be practically endless.

I used to post incorrect quotes, but not so much nowadays. If at all. Ah, also, fair warning: I generally do not tag any of my reblogs and could go on reblog sprees from time to time, or be inactive for days on end. There is no in-between.

This is my own space and I have the right to express myself and my opinions freely here, although I will rarely engage in anything with heavy discourse/debate and the sort. But I am always open to them if anyone's interested. Just don't ask for trouble.

More details regarding my blog under the cut.

Tags

Despite the messiness of my blog, I do, in fact, use some tags for my own posts. Surprise, surprise.

I use #my writing for all fics I've written,

#incorrect quotes for, well, my incorrect quotes,

#ask for basically all the asks I've answered,

#personal when I'm sharing something about myself or how I'm doing,

#ramblings for random thoughts or things in my head I decided are worth writing in my blog,

Occasionally #writing when I share (hopefully) relatable stuff about writing or when I'm sharing my experience in writing, and

#kitty makes up scenarios for when I share thoughts and scenarios about fictional characters and will likely not write about them.

Prompts

If you're wondering whether I'm open to prompts or not, currently I am back to receiving prompts. This will update from time to time.

You can send them in my ask box. :)

Here are a couple of things I'd like to emphasise for those interested:

I am not a fast writer. I will not respond to your prompt immediately. It could take me weeks, months, and maybe even longer to get to you.

I would prefer if you'd leave some space in the prompt for creative liberties and not put in too much detail. (You might as well write it your own if you want it in a very specific way.)

Don't pressure me into doing your prompt. Please keep in mind that I can and will send it back/refuse to write it if the prompt you send isn't doable to me for one reason or another.

I can be sensitive to some topics like alcoholism, physical/domestic abuse, etc. but it is negotiable so long as it isn't heavy on the topic. Just send me a DM to discuss.

It comes without saying, but underage and sexual abuse is a definite no.

Physical de-aging is OK, but I won't do ageplay or age regression -- whether it's sexual or not.

Yes, I am open to writing NSFW but please, for the love of god and all that is holy, do not send me anything about mpreg or genderbending. Or anything too... weird, for that matter.

In case a clarification is needed: yes, hurt/no comfort or even MCD fics are definitely OK. Yes, yes, yes, 100%.

Yes, I ship. My ships include IronStrange, Frostrange, Wongrange, Strordo, Johnlock, and am open to other ships if you wish so. Again it is negotiable and I am flexible regarding this.

Genfics are 100% OK, too.

If I happen to reblog/participate in an event with a prompt set, I am usually alright with receiving requests about them.

Unquestionable, but, prompts from other posts/not an original prompt you made is, of course, welcome.

I don't write/read x reader or reader insert. I don't read/write x OC, either. Sorry.

I do not write "Not [X] Friendly" fics. I do not like character bashing.

The rules may update from time to time. Please check them before sending requests.

Last updated 12/10/23

My preferences

I'm not exactly that picky of a person, but I do have preferences when it comes to reading and/or writing. And I would greatly appreciate if you'd take them into consideration, as I want to enjoy doing requests as much as you do when reading it.

I tend to prefer Hurt!Stephen or Whumpee!Stephen in h/c or whump scenarios, but I am not opposed to writing him being a caretaker. In the Sherlock fandom I prefer Hurt!Sherlock but, again, totally open to otherwise.

I love a lot of various tropes and things but am practically obsessed with whump and hurt/comfort. Angst is another one I absolutely love. I write fluff as well, but it usually requires a certain mood, so fluffy prompts might be replied to later than whumpy/angsty ones.

Most of my works are IronStrange but I love Wongrange just as much, if not more. Other ships are, again, totally alright. Although I am not very fond of these ships in particular: SpideyStrange, ScarletStrange, and x reader.

Other things

Be reminded that I am an amateur author and a human, so, despite me not being averse to 'constructive criticism', it'd be appreciated if you would kindly hold your opinions to yourself instead of sending hate asks/comments -- unless you can say them without being rude. Both explicitly and non-explicitly. I am not confident with my writing (as I should be, haha), and doing so will just discourage me further.

I post from a lot of fandoms. This is not an IronStrange-exclusive blog. Filter tags if and when necessary.

Minors are allowed to follow as I do not post anything too explicit; at least without tagging them. They would be tagged #tw suggestive or #tw explicit. I do however advise you to beware as I can be... a little bit... unhinged, sometimes.

Ask me if you want to translate/post my works to other platforms. You must have my written permission.

If you disagree with me (e.g. you characterise/see/view [Character A] as ... but I write them as ...), please keep in mind that all of this is fiction and everyone is allowed to have their own opinions. But well, feel free to discuss with me if you'd like.

Please don't hesitate if you have any questions! ^-^

I thiiiiink that sums up pretty much everything. If you've read this far, thanks for letting me waste your time!

Much love! Cheers! xoxo

- Kitty