#sometimes when you spend all your time in the world of ghosts and monsters you yourself start to get a little ghosty and monstery

[chiropteracupola]

'their secret — how to show friendship while you flex your claws'

[daistea]

First Burn — Mithrun x F!Reader

“You have a choice, Captain. You don’t have to follow me around if there’s something else you’d rather be doing.”

“There is something else I’d rather be doing,” he admitted with a slow nod.

—

post-canon, spoilers for Mithrun’s story

7000 words :0

NSFW! pls interact responsibly. No minors.

Disclaimer: I do not know how to write smut :)

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Recently, the world had stopped on its axis. Dungeons collapsed, entire countries burst up from the sea, and Mithrun of the House of Kerensil decided to try.

And he would spend the rest of his life trying. Sometimes, he succeeded. Sometimes, he did not. The other week, he felt an inkling in his chest that he translated as a new desire— for bread. A desire for fresh bread. You proceeded to fulfill his desire, because that’s what you’d decided.

You tried, too. You tried hard. Sometimes, you succeeded. Sometimes, you did not. And judging by the barely-there expression of annoyance on Mithrun’s face, you had a feeling that today would be the latter.

“You don’t have to stay,” you said. While the street around you was crowded and bustling, the space between you and Mithrun felt private, quiet. He was lost in that secret space until your words yanked him back to reality.

You watched as his brows furrowed and a little line formed between them. His good eye searched your face as if looking for answers, but he had to know what you meant. If he wanted to go, then he could go.

It seemed to be the kind of day where he didn’t want anything. He was a ghost lingering at your back, pulled through the hours by some invisible string that kept him tied to you. On his worst days, he viewed himself as an anchor dragging behind your ship. Yet, you never cut that line. You wouldn’t dare.

Without an ounce of hesitation, you met his face. The line between his brow had disappeared, but Mithrun’s usual apathy was weaker, softer. Again, you said, “You have a choice, Captain. You don’t have to follow me around if there’s something else you’d rather be doing.”

“There is something else I’d rather be doing,” he admitted with a slow nod.

You perked up. You offered him the choice to leave simply because Mithrun deserved to have choices, though you knew that if he wasn’t following you then he’d most likely end up spending the day staring at the ceiling of his home. It was one of those days. When his brain decided to comply, he would keep himself busy with a hobby, or he’d visit the palace, or search for monsters on the outskirts of the city. He didn’t always need your company to keep himself functioning.

Yet, the fact that there was something he wanted to do was enough to make you smile. “That’s great,” you turned to face him fully. You had a basket of vegetables hanging off your arm as you and Mithrun stood in front of a merchant stall. Another customer approached and you placed a hand on Mithrun’s arm to gently guide your bodies out of the way. The streets of Melini had become crowded as of late, with more tourists coming to see the newly risen country.

“I suppose it is,” he agreed. He glanced down at your hand on his arm, following your fingers as you pulled them away and rested them on the handle of the basket. Then, his good eye flickered back up to your face.

“So,” you rocked back and forth on your heels, “what is it? Anything I can help with?”

The apathy instantly disappeared. Mithrun raised his brows and tilted his head, his good eye widening in thought. “Yes, actually. I want to have sex. With you.”

You froze.

Despite his words, the world still spun and time still flowed. It was offensive how nothing came crashing down for you, how the planet’s rotation didn’t stop to allow you a moment to comprehend Mithrun’s words.

Heat curled in your lower abdomen. Your throat went dry and you let out a soft exhale. All you could manage in response was, “Huh?”

Mithrun gave a quick nod and looked at you as if you were a bit stupid. “Now.”

Now. The hair on the back of your arms stood to attention. “Huh?”

“That’s what I want,” he slowly explained, “pay for the food and let's go.”

You had no choice but to close your eyes and block out the street sounds. “Wait. I thought you were having a bad day.”

“Hmm… No. I think you’re mistaking me being contemplative for me struggling.”

Right. Okay. Contemplative, that was the face he made when he was contemplating something. Something like sex. With you. Now.

Mithrun wrapped his fingers around your wrist. His skin was cold but his touch was like fire. He pulled, urging.

You yanked yourself free, “No.”

And he blinked in surprise, “You don’t want to?”

“No,” you corrected, “I mean, yes.”

“What?”

“I mean–” you groaned and ran your fingers through your hair, “I want to, believe me. I want to. But not like this.”

Mithrun’s shoulders slumped ever so slightly. The apathy returned in full-force. He wasn’t hurt, you knew, but he also wasn’t used to having one of his few desires rejected, especially by you. “Alright, I won’t force you.”

A flicker of panic passed through your chest. You grabbed his arm to stop him from wandering off, “I’m not saying no, Mithrun. I’m saying that— Well, that I have standards.”

He glanced at you, “Standards.”

It wasn’t a question. “Yes. Standards. It’s really not arousing to just be told ‘I want to have sex with you’.”

“Oh,” he nodded, the tiniest amount of realization dawning on his face, “I see. You want to be romanced and seduced.”

Truthfully, you wanted to shrivel and die. You would’ve liked to melt into the cracks on the sidewalk and hide in the darkness forever. Romanced. Seduced. Mithrun wasn’t judging you, but you were certainly judging you.

“Not exactly. I just mean that the time has to be right. We can’t plan these things,” you explained. The heat you had initially felt from his offer was replaced by cold, unpleasant dread. Mithrun was the one who so bluntly brought up the subject of sex, yet you were the one panicking and overthinking things.

“Alright,” again, he brushed it off with the least amount of effort. You wanted to smack him for the cavalier attitude, though you knew he couldn’t help it. Mithrun would most likely spend the rest of the day feeling perfectly calm, without a hint of awkwardness, while you slowly drowned in the flood of your own thoughts.

Except—

Except, as Mithrun turned away to continue the task of vegetable shopping, you saw his right hand flex. He curled his long fingers in, and out, then made a fist before stuffing it into the pocket of his coat.

It didn’t have to mean anything.

You weren’t technically a couple. Despite how emotionally intertwined you were with him, you’d never kissed.

Yet, he wanted you. He specified, Mithrun didn’t want sex with just anyone. He wanted it with you. That was his new desire.

Without a second thought, you let the basket on your arm slide off and hit the ground. Then, you grabbed the sleeve of his coat. He glanced at you, stopping mid-step and allowing you to softly yank him closer.

Mithrun knew. He wasn’t as connected to his emotions as some, but he knew what you were doing. He placed his left hand on your hip, the other still in his pocket. And as he leaned in, meeting you halfway, your panic and anxiety melted like ice beneath the sun. He pressed his lips against yours and you tilted your head to deepen the kiss. Whatever your body did from then on was not your decision. Your arms snaked around his neck and you tangled your fingers into the soft hair behind his head.

Both of you knew this moment would come. He was yours, you were his. That had always been the case. Mithrun simply hadn’t had any desire to be physical before. Yet, with the way he pressed against you, now both hands on your hips as he gently walked you backward until your back hit a wall, it was clear. Somehow, in some way, the desire for physical intimacy had returned. Whether you had anything to do with that or not was a mystery, but there was no time to question that. He had needs and wants and there was nothing more important in that moment than fulfilling them.

The rest of the world faded away. Your knees grew weak as you realized that it was finally happening; Mithrun had made such progress. He had a desire, and the fact that the desire concerned you made warmth spread through your body.

Another kiss, then another, while gasps and pants between presses of your lips consumed the space around you. You lowered one hand away from his shoulder and rested it on his chest. Mithrun pushed further until he was the only thing holding you up, keeping you on your feet. His fingers splayed across your back and gripped your clothes. Your chest rose and fell with desperate attempts to get air without breaking contact. If it was possible to melt together, to erase every centimeter of room between your bodies, you and Mithrun would’ve found a way.

His hips brushed against yours. It was barely there, but easily identifiable— a hardness beneath his trousers. Flames within you burst into life and threatened to consume you whole.

“We–” through the fog of sheer want, you managed to grab hold of a sliver of logic, “we can’t do this here.”

Mithrun paused. He still held you, but slowly lifted his face. His lips separated from yours with a soft sound. You already missed the feeling of his mouth. It was cold and empty without him. He glanced out at the street, at the passersby who were pointedly not looking in your general direction.

He shrugged, “I don’t really care,” and returned his attention to you, leaning in again.

You pressed your palm against his face to keep him at bay, “Nope. No way. I care, and we’re not doing this here.”

With an annoyed exhale, he brushed your hand aside, “Fine. Then where?”

The heat in your abdomen was slowly dying down. The realization that most likely a fourth of Melini had seen you and the Captain making out in an alleyway was enough to dampen your fire.

You untangled your arms from his shoulders, trying to pull back. His grip on you resisted until you sent him a half-hearted glare. Only then did he let go and raise his hands to signify that you were free. Yet, as you turned to leave, he instantly grabbed you again.

“Where?” He repeated, his good eye narrowing.

“Nowhere!” You shot back, then paused, “Well, somewhere. But we can’t plan these things, they have to happen naturally, when the time feels correct.”

“Right now certainly feels correct to me.”

“I’ve got things to do,” you complained while you slipped out of his grip once more. You didn’t mean to be so difficult, but the lingering dread of making out in a public alleyway, combined with the fact that your armpits were a bit sweaty, killed every ounce of arousal within. You picked up the basket of veggies and sent Mithrun an apologetic smile, “I promise, we’ll try soon. I want you to be happy and to do these kinds of things, but this is more serious than, like, a food craving or something.”

“Objectively, I’m aware,” he answered, his tone clipped.

“You’re just horny,” you finished for him.

“Unbearably horny.”

What progress! “Good for you,” you patted his arm and smiled, “I’m proud!”

He made a face. You hoped that your imitation of a mother praising her child for a good grade would ease his newfound lust for at least a bit, at least until you could match his energy.

However, Mithrun still clung to you for the next hour. When you stopped to discuss a price with a merchant, Mithrun wrapped his arms around you from behind and nuzzled his face into your neck.

“Is now the right time?” He murmured.

And you brushed him off, because you had no desire to make everybody around you uncomfortable. (Mithrun did not care.)

“No,” was all you said.

He made a small, flat noise of disapproval. Despite your nature, you couldn’t help but smile. Torturing Mithrun made your heart skip a beat, it put you in a good mood.

You separated for the evening. Mithrun had resorted to giving you the silent treatment, which only raised your amusement to new heights. As you watched him turn to walk home without so much as a goodbye, with his barely disguised brooding and glare, a flicker of power passed through you. Admittedly, you were tempted to spend the night in his bed. But you were more tempted by the possibility of teasing him to the brink of his control, of seeing him overcome and ruffled and desperate.

Another curl of heat in your abdomen took your breath away. You forced yourself to turn, to retreat. Good things come to those who wait.

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But it was midnight and waiting was no longer an option. Only several hours had passed since you’d last seen Mithrun, but his words refused to leave your mind.

‘I want to have sex. With you.’

There was absolutely nothing romantic about them. He didn’t use a sultry voice. He spoke those two sentences as if he was reading items off a grocery list. And it was so out of the blue.

Yet, the fact that they were from him, from someone who so rarely felt desire, was special. Without trying, Mithrun had branded the words onto your brain with a hot iron. And that heat traveled down your body like a spreading fire until it burned and pulsed between your legs, growing more urgent with every passing contemplation.

You needed to know: how did he come to realize that desire? What changed? Did he simply wake up that morning in the mood for sex? Had he been trying to cultivate that desire?

You laid in bed, your hands spread out over your chest, your eyes on the ceiling. Another throb of pleasant warmth between your legs made your lips part. Mithrun wanted you. Why didn’t you just give him what he wanted earlier?

Something began to build up inside of you. If you just had a little friction, a touch, it could burst forth and envelop you in warmth.

Your hand trailed down your stomach and—

And a loud clang from outside your bedroom window stopped you. You turned your head to look, hand halted mid-air as your flames began to dim.

In the darkness of the night, a shadow passed by the glass. Their features were blurred by the darkness, but they were tall, wide, and slowly stepping past your window. Your little cabin was on the outskirts of the town, and all of your neighbors were a half mile away. Your friends had always told you that it wasn’t safe for a single woman to live alone in such a vacant area.

Your blood ran cold as the shadow moved on towards your backyard. Instantly, you scrambled out of bed and through the house to make sure all your doors were locked. Another peek outside the window in the kitchen revealed that the figure had crossed the yard and was rifling through your garbage. At least they weren’t trying to get inside. Yet.

Breathless, with a racing heart and tears stinging at the corners of your eyes, you hurried back to the bedroom. You flicked a hand and your communication pixie twirled into existence. You didn’t give it any time to stretch and yawn from its slumber, grabbing it from mid-air and squeezing its little body.

Mana channeled through your veins. You attempted to shove aside the fear and imagine Mithrun, then frantically tapped the pixie’s head, “Mithrun!” You hissed.

A moment passed. No answer.

“Mithrun,” you insisted, your voice choking up. Air refused to travel through your lungs, and you started hyperventilating into your free hand.

Four seconds passed before you heard a soft sigh through the pixie’s mouth, “What is it?”

He sounded tired, groggy, but you couldn’t bring yourself to care about waking him up. “I-I think someone’s stalking around my house. They haven’t tried to break in yet but I’m really freaked out—“

“I’ll be there in a minute,” he instantly said, sounding more awake.

And with Mithrun, he meant it. Walking regularly would take around fifteen minutes, since you lived several miles apart. Yet, when he was determined, he could teleport quickly enough to cross those miles within five minutes.

You quietly groaned and collapsed onto the edge of the bed, releasing your fairy— who sent you a worried look before twirling and disappearing into thin air.

There was nothing wrong with calling Mithrun for help, but embarrassment and dread settled into your stomach nonetheless. He’d prefer you call him with these types of situations, you knew. But you were capable too. You had helped save the world from the demon, yet some random shadowy figure in your backyard reduces you to tears? Pathetic.

It was simply an invasion, and you were in your night clothes and your weapon was thrown into the back of your closet somewhere. That was all. And the fact that the figure passed by your window when you were seconds away from pleasuring yourself made you want to throw up.

Another set of footsteps crunching down on the grass tore you from your thoughts. They were accompanied by a light spell which illuminated silver waves of hair and a dark cloak.

Relief flooded your chest, though you hesitated to let your guard drop entirely. You scrambled through the cabin and toward your kitchen window where you saw Mithrun silently crossing your yard towards the shadowy figure.

He paused mid-step. Then, he rested his hands on his hips. As his light spell floated over him, you caught a glimpse of what he looked at; brown feathers and a yellow beak, accompanied by the slithering of a snake.

A basilisk. It was just a basilisk digging through your garbage.

You couldn’t decide whether you wanted to collapse from relief, or scream from frustration.

Nonchalantly, Mithrun reached out a hand and tapped the chicken part on the back. It disappeared, and he wasted no time in turning around and heading for your back door. Despite your shaking hand and sick stomach, you unlocked the door and opened it to let him inside without a word. He dispelled the light spell and pulled off his cloak with a sigh.

“I’m so sorry,” you exhaled heavily, locking the door, “I should’ve just gone to check on my own.”

Mithrun sent you a blank glance, but as if he’d been caught by a hook, he did a subtle double take. His good eye flickered over your body, across your shoulders, down your thighs.. It took several seconds for his brain to catch up, “No… If that happens again, don’t go outside. I know you can take care of yourself, but I’d rather not risk it.”

He didn’t stop staring. The shamelessness of his gaze on your diaphanous nightdress made you heat up. The intruder was just a scavenging basilisk, you weren’t in any real danger, yet Mithrun had been so determined to help you.

As offensive as the whole situation was to your personal sense of feminism, it made your knees weak.

Mithrun finally looked away. He took a breath that made his chest rise and fall, his hands buried in the folds of his cloak. “I’ll go now, then.”

“No,” you argued before you could even think twice. You grabbed his arm to stop him. He was wearing a loose night tunic so different from the long sleeved, high necked outfits he usually chose. You’d seen his scars before, but it was so rare to touch his bare skin like that, to feel the soft texture beneath your fingers.

Mithrun raised a slight brow, “No?”

He wanted you.

You wanted him.

“Could you stay the night?” You asked, trying to keep your voice steady, “I’d feel better with you near.”

Calling Mithrun to investigate potential attackers was one thing, but requiring his presence to help you sleep was beyond uncharacteristic. He knew exactly what you were doing, and he sent you a look that revealed precisely that.

But he also wasn’t one for complaining. He simply nodded and draped his cloak across the back of a chair, then pulled off his boots. With weak knees, you turned around to return to your bedroom. You wanted to be casual, to not be too hyper-aware of his presence following you down the hall.

Any other decent man would’ve politely asked if you’d rather he sleep on the couch. Mithrun was not other men, and he was only decent around 42% of the time.

You pulled back the sheets. The silence was consuming, but only to you, apparently. Mithrun remained cavalier as he slid onto the left side of the bed and pulled the sheets up around him. He sent you a blank look as if to ask why you were hesitating, why this moment was so monumental for you.

He knew exactly why, he was just being a jackass.

You crawled in. Before you could get comfortable, Mithrun snaked an arm around your waist and pulled your back against his chest. Your bodies molded together as he buried his nose in your hair.

Right down to business. He knew precisely what you wanted.

Your heart started to pound and heat flooded the space between your legs. Mithrun hadn’t wanted anything intimate in forty years. It was the least you could do to let him be a little greedy.

His hand slowly ran down the curve of your waist, brushing over the fabric of your night dress. Once he reached the hem, his fingers danced across your bare skin. He had rough callouses, and as he stroked your outer thigh, the scratch created from years of fighting sent tingles through your veins. The room was quiet save for your exhales, your attempts to control your breathing.

“I wonder,” Mithrun murmured, “did you know it was just a basilisk in your yard, and you used it as an excuse to get me to come over?”

You scoffed, “No. I was fully planning on drawing this whole thing out for longer, actually.”

He exhaled in annoyance, but despite the sharp sound, his hand rounded the curve of your thigh and brushed closer to the sensitive inner part. That warm pulsing between your legs returned. The slight twitch of his growing hardness against your ass was enough to send a wave of arousal through you.

His hand drew up, over your underwear, to your stomach. And while he did that, he pressed his lips against your neck.

“You’re-“ you tried to gather the scrambled pieces of your brain, “you’re surprisingly eager for someone who hasn’t wanted this in so long.”

Mithrun ran his lips down your neck, “I’ve been working on it.”

Spectacular. That answered your burning question. You tilted your head to give him more access as you spoke, “So you’ve been trying to regain the desire for intimacy?”

He nodded, “I have.”

“How so?”

“Just putting some thought into the matter,” Mithrun lightly dug his teeth into the crook of your neck, earning a soft gasp. Then, he continued, “Contemplating what it would be like. Focusing on you, looking at you. Physical stimulation.”

He spoke so clinically, yet the implications behind his answer sent a shiver trailing down your spine. “Physical stimulation?”

“It was hard, at first. Nothing much happened.”

“So… It wasn’t actually hard at first?”

Mithrun promptly pinched your side, but that only made you laugh more. When you didn’t stop giggling quickly enough for him, he dug his teeth into your shoulder and hooked a finger into the line of your underwear. That dimmed the amusement. Despite the interruption, you could feel him growing harder against your ass.

“Anyway,” he grumbled, kissing the spot he’d just bit, “it took some determination and focus.”

“Focus on what?”

You knew. You just wanted to hear him say it again.

“On you,” he pressed himself against you. His hand rose to cup your breast, and his thumb brushed over the hardened nipple.

The image of Mithrun trying to revive his sexual desire by thinking of you, by stroking himself as he focused on you, flickered through your mind. You couldn’t help but arch into his hand.

“How long have you been waiting to try it out?” You asked, breathless.

Mithrun’s hand left your chest. He sat up, and you rolled onto your back to look up at him as he pressed his palms into the mattress.

“A bit too long for my taste,” he said. The gravel in his voice was evident despite how calm he looked. Silver curls fell, framing his face.

You couldn’t tear your gaze away, not even for a second, “What do you want me to do?”

Mithrun tilted his head and raised his brows, looking a little thoughtful, “What do you mean?”

“Do you…” you paused and raised a hand to brush a lock of hair away. Then, you trailed your fingers down the jagged edges of his ear, and he closed his eyes, leaning into the touch. “Do you want me to take the lead? Just to ease us into it?”

His good eye flickered open, “Another time. I’ve given this enough thought to understand exactly what I have to do.” He sat up and gripped the outer flesh of both your thighs. His fingers dug into your skin. You wanted more, you wanted him to hold you so tightly he left bruises, evidence.

“And?” You urged.

“I know that with the few things I want…” Mithrun’s hands slid over the tops of your thighs and to the inner curves, then he slowly spread you apart, just for him. “I have to put in the effort and work to get it.”

There was something so beautifully sinful about his hands on your inner thighs. He opened you up, laid you bare, invited himself in with full confidence that you wanted him there. Your core pulsed, aching to be filled. All you knew in that moment was Mithrun as he sat between your legs. His good eye flickered over your body. If he cared about any imperfections you had, he showed no indication. Rather, he looked slightly thoughtful, as if he were mapping out a battle strategy atop the landscape of your hips.

You couldn’t help but shiver beneath his stare. He glanced up at you, then back down, and hooked his fingers in the band of your underwear. His shoulders rose as he slid them down your thighs, the fabric a caress. You moved your legs to help shimmy them off before he tossed them aside and picked up your right thigh. Leaning down, Mithrun positioned your leg over his shoulder.

As realization burst through your warm haze, you sat up, “You don’t have to do that. I should be focusing on you—”

“Quiet,” Mithrun commanded. He dipped down, but paused, and his gaze flickered up to meet yours, “You’re already wet.”

Wonderful. He said it so casually, too, as if he was pointing out the weather.

You scowled despite the incessant pulsing in your core, “Don’t tease me.”

“I’m not teasing,” he commented.

Usually, you could read Mithrun well. You knew his subtle indicators of emotion— the furrow of his brow, the slight widening or narrowing of his good eye, the twitch of his lips. However, whether he meant to or not, Mithrun’s book was shut for the moment. The closest emotion you could attach to him was analytical. Or rather, curious.

Still, you fought. The heat on your cheeks demanded that you go to war. “We don’t need to bother with me. I think that right now we should—”

Mithrun dipped down and flicked his tongue against your clit. Pleasure rippled up from your core and to your throat. You gasped, but he gave you no time, no mercy. He sucked at your clit, pushing and pulling and enveloping and stroking. Mithrun carried out intimacy much in the same way he fought: ruthless, relentless, disregarding what was right or wrong and focused solely on his goal.

It had been a while for you. You’d given yourself to Mithrun for so long that you never glanced at anybody else. You’d resigned yourself to a relationship with a lack of anything physical. You were okay with that. Mithrun wouldn’t care if you used your fingers, and you’d never ask him to do anything for you without his desire present.

Yet, he’d been trying. And he’d given it so much thought. And he increased in intensity as he stroked your clitoris with his tongue. You’d been writhing and gasping without realizing it, bucking your hips up in a desperate attempt to get even closer.

He let go of your thigh and pressed your hips deeper into the mattress. As his fingers dug into your skin, holding you down like leather straps, the pressure and pulsing and throbbing grew stronger. You ached to be filled. It was all you could do to grip the sheets and gasp for air.

“Mithrun,” you said, breathless. It felt right to say his name, as if that might make the moment feel any more real.

His good eye flickered up to you, but he instantly returned to his merciless attack. You watched as his shoulders tensed in his attempt to keep your hips down. He pulled back for half of a second to catch his breath before diving in with far more enthusiasm than you were used to from him.

The very fact that he wanted to pleasure you, that he was putting in the effort, that you could see the outline of his cock growing hard beneath his pants— it all built up like water filling a balloon. If he continued, the walls would burst and you’d be in ruins beneath his fingers and mouth.

Heat rose. Your muscles tensed and you planted your feet into the sheets, hoping to ground yourself before you floated away. Another intense caress of his tongue threatened to push you over the edge. You wanted it so badly. You wanted to fall, to be ruined by him. The fire within your abdomen started crawling through every inch of your body as you desperately tried to catch your breath.

“Mithrun,” you murmured again. It was louder, then. And, again. Again. His fingers dug further into your skin and you writhed helplessly. You were saying something, though you weren’t aware what it was. Another gasp, another flick of his tongue, and you were broken.

Mithrun rode out your orgasm with a surprising amount of patience. He opened his eye and watched from the spot between your legs as you threw your head back. While he had enough mercy to slow down in his ministrations, he licked up every bit of you that you had to offer. Your chest rose and fell. Your nipples were hard and poked through the thin fabric of your nightdress. Once you started to catch your breath, he pushed himself up, but that was where his mercy ended.

Mithrun gripped your arms and pulled you into a sitting position. He had to hold you to keep you from falling backwards onto the pillows. With one hand, he pulled the end of your nightdress up. “Off,” was all he said.

The command barely reached your ears, but you wanted to take it off anyway. You raised your arms and let him pull it over your head to toss it aside. Then, he yanked off his loose shirt. As you floated back down to reality, you took a deep breath— returning to the land of the sober just in time to catch Mithrun picking up the edges of the bed sheets and using them to wipe your slick off his mouth and chin.

You gasped, “Not the sheets!”

He pointedly ignored you as he lifted his hips and pulled down his trousers, though an ink-black eye lingered on your face, refusing to look anyway. His earlier curiosity was gone, replaced with determination you’d only rarely seen— once, when he encountered the demon. Another time when he couldn’t get a noodle recipe right.

Once his trousers were off, he shifted closer, between your legs. Hesitantly, you leaned back and rested your weight on your elbows. It felt wrong to blatantly ogle him, but the slopes of his arms and shoulders and the angle of his torso would surely haunt you all your days. He didn’t seem to mind, focused on his own endeavors. It was only when he held his dick and brushed it against your wet folds that you finally paid attention.

He rubbed the tip on your clitoris. You tensed, still sensitive, and raised a hand to cover your mouth as if that would be enough to stop the desperate sounds. Mithrun was experimenting, then. He was rarely careful, but he was analytical, smart enough to figure out what you liked. Again, he pressed his length against you and you couldn’t help but shudder.

“You’re very sensitive,” he observed.

Again, the asshole sounded like he was simply discussing the weather. You were crumbling and his demeanor sustained not even one crack.

You managed a glare, “I thought I told you not to tease me.” As if Mithrun ever teased anyone.

“Stop complaining,” he murmured as he snaked his hands beneath you and lifted your hips. Your insides throbbed for him, desperate, begging for him to fill you.

First, the tip. It sunk in like a massage on a sore muscle. Mithrun’s gaze dropped and he watched himself go further. You enveloped him. All he knew was you, your warmth, your wetness, clinging to him. He let out a shuddery exhale as he finally pressed himself inside entirely. His lips parted and he lifted your hips to pull you closer, though there was no more room left between your bodies to close.

His cock inside of you was like honey dripping onto your tongue. It was like silk. It was a several years long hunger finally being satiated. Mithrun thrusted experimentally and you couldn’t help but gasp from the sudden pulsing reverberating up your body.

“Move,” you begged, breathless.

“I—” Mithrun took a deep breath and closed his eyes. He still held your hips, but his hands quivered, “I can’t yet. Just give me a minute.”

His answer managed to pull you from the haze. He hadn’t had sex in forty years, of course he was sensitive. It was his first time feeling the warmth and wetness of a pussy in so long.

But, simply because you had a sadistic streak, you tightened your muscles to clench around him.

Mithrun’s head dropped. He tensed. His exhale was a shudder that racked his body, and he couldn’t help but grind against your hips in response. Finally, he was showing some response, some weakness. You bathed in the sight and feeling of pride. It was you who cracked him. It was your tightness that made him gasp and lose his mind.

He didn’t even need to move, and you were already addicted to having him inside of you. The look on his face, the flutter of his eye, the harsh press of his fingers; how could you ever stop?

But he took a deep breath and straightened himself out. Then, holding your hips, he slipped away, leaving you cold and empty. You sat up with the intent to complain, but he slammed back into you. Any words you had were instantly strangled into silence. His tip hit a sensitive spot, sparks ran up your body. With no warning, Mithrun began to relentlessly drive into you. Skin slapped against skin. Every thrust was yet another breath stolen from your lungs. And somehow, he hit the perfect spot each and every time.

You gasped his name. Mithrun’s lips were parted and his cheeks were flushed, but he looked up to meet your face. Without another word, he lifted his right hand and slid it between his hip and your thigh, then pressed two fingers against your clitoris and began to rub.

With just the simplest touch, he had you falling apart once more. You held desperate eye contact for a moment until you could no longer take it, until you had no choice but to shut your eyes. His name was a prayer on your lips. You praised him, reverential, letting him take you, own you, claim you. His touch was religion. Every time he filled you, you sunk deeper, indoctrinated. Mithrun pressed his fingers down harder and faster as you began to writhe once more. Another moan of his name was followed by a string of curses as the thrum within your core rose to unbearable levels.

“There,” Mithrun breathed out, “There you go. That’s my girl.”

You broke. He shattered you. You had no clue how loud you were, what you said. There was a few ‘fucks’ thrown in there, a few words of blasphemy and sin and pleading. The only sound that cut through your fog of pleasure was Mithrun’s hips snapping against yours even harder. He might leave bruises. He might leave you sore. You certainly hoped so.

Mithrun groaned your name. His hair fell into his face as he pressed both arms into the sheets. His right hand, still slick with evidence of your arousal, went to your face and lifted you into a hard kiss. His teeth knocked against yours but you were too lost to care. Another screw, another thrust, another slam against the most sensitive spot in the back of your body. You’d never come from just dick. You’d never orgasmed with so few rubs.

Mithrun repeated your name and his hips stuttered and—

Then, he buried his face against your neck and dug his teeth into your skin. You wrapped your arms around him to hold him close while he spilled inside of you. All you could think about was his seed coating your vagina, covering every inch while your walls milked him dry. He was yours. You wanted every ounce.

His thrusts slowed down and he caught his breath. You’d told yourself for years that it was okay to forego this kind of physical intimacy with him. You could handle that for the sake of being with Mithrun. Yet, now that you’d felt it, you couldn’t imagine ever parting with it. He was inside of you. He was holding you. He was bruising and marking and claiming you.

And he collapsed on top of you like a limp rag doll.

You let out an oof, “Get off. You’re too heavy.”

He only groaned into your shoulder, the sound muffled. Mithrun was absolutely boneless.

His dick slowly softened and slipped out of you naturally, though you already missed it. You would’ve gladly been his cock-warmer if he asked. You would’ve gladly allowed him to use your body beyond what was proper.

Holding him tightly, you buried your face into his hair. “I’ve got to go pee or else I’ll get a UTI,” you grumbled.

“Just… One more minute.”

One more minute. You wanted more than one, but you were also far too pragmatic to let yourself fall asleep with the threat of unbearable bladder pain on the horizon.

He was dead weight on your body, but it was grounding. If Mithrun ever thought of himself as an anchor, he might be right, though he greatly misunderstood the purpose of the role. Without an anchor, you’d drift endlessly. Without him, you’d lose a part of yourself.

Your soul slowly returned to your body as you patted his shoulder, “Come on, we’ve got to change the sheets too.”

“They’re fine,” he grumbled, another muffled sound.

“They’re gross.”

“It’s natural.”

“It smells.”

Mithrun lifted his head to shoot you an unamused stare, “Get used to it.”

You refused. For the moment, though, you would humor him. It was his first time fulfilling a new desire, a lack of complaints might be in order.

Mithrun rolled off your body and collapsed onto the spot next to you. With a contented sigh, you got out of bed and made toward the bathroom with him dripping down your thighs. The very thought made your knees weak.

After peeing and cleaning up— a shame, despite your concern for cleanliness— you returned to the bedroom to find Mithrun lying on his back in the bed. He had one hand on his forehead, his hair pushed away from his face and his good eye wide as it stared at the ceiling.

You tensed, “What’s wrong?”

“Please tell me you–” he sat up to pin you in place with an intense look, “tell me you’re taking some sort of birth control.”

You were. But all you could do was raise a brow, “You’re just now thinking about that?”

Mithrun looked a bit dead inside, more so than usual. “I was caught up in the moment.”

You decided to cut him some slack, “Yes, I’m on birth control herbs. Really, they’re just to control other things, since I haven’t had sex in years. But still.”

Slowly, his eyes closed. He nodded and lowered back to the pillows.

“Water?”

Another nod.

He lasted longer than you thought he would. He didn’t seem exhausted, though the adrenaline from his orgasm would most likely help him sleep. You brought water and he gratefully drank as you pulled the covers up over your body.

Mithrun set the glass down on the nightstand and sent you a glance. No words needed to be said. No grand gestures were required. He caught your cheek with his calloused hand and nudged you closer until your lips met. You tangled your fingers in his hair. Despite the monumental moment in your relationship, the air remained clear. Your comfort, the naturalness of it all, felt as if you’d been intimate for years, as if you were made for touching each other, as if your bodies were molds created specifically to fit together.

Still.

“Get up,” you demanded between kisses, “I’m changing the sheets.”

[sweetheartmotives]

˗ˏˋ ★ ˎˊ˗ Yandere Magical Girl ˗ˏˋ ★ ˎˊ˗

Desc and possible Cw: Yandere themes, bone breaking, Ripping off someone's head and putting it on a pole, obsession, and mentions of murder towards a date of yours.

Let me know if I missed any!

(Lucky Star Opening)

It was a normal Monday afternoon, you were on your way to class. You attend a rather fancy college, whether you're rich and got in that way or you got in for good grades.. It doesn't really matter at the end of the day. She's dotted on you and you can't do anything about it.

• Yandere Magical Girl who… became your friend by "accidentally" forgetting her pencil.

Tap tap! "Excuse me.. could I borrow a pencil?" She asks

• Yandere Magical Girl who… slowly but surely made her way into your life. Going from a simple acquaintance to a best friend.

"It's funny to think about sometimes, 2 months ago we were just two girls who sat next to each other. Now we're best friends!" Yumako chuckles. You were having lunch together, in the school courtyard.

• Yandere Magical Girl who… roots herself into your life, permanently. She's always around, and it's to the point where it feels strange whenever she's not by your side.

"Sorry! I was sick yesterday, it must've been miserable here without me!" Yumako jokes while grinning "Seriously though, let's eat together during lunch!" She smiles

• Yandere Magical Girl who… enjoys spending as much time with you as possible. Studying? Count her in! Even if it's boring, if she's by your side, she doesn't care.

"Oh? Studying? Let's do it together!" Yumako smiles

• Yandere Magical Girl who… secretly fights in the nighttime. During the daytime, she's your best friend who's always by you! During the nighttime, she's wearing a cutesy outfit you'd see in animes, specifically a magical girl anime.

• Yandere Magical Girl who… has a new purpose to fight. She doesn't fight for the purpose of saving the world anymore, she's fighting for the purpose of you and her having a world to live on so you both can get married and grow old together.

• Yandere Magical Girl who… likes to drive away your dates. She'll be touchy-feely and come with you to dates, therefore making your date uncomfortable. You're hers, she's fighting for YOU, You are her everything.

"A date??" Yumako gasps dramatically "With who? Where? When? Why? How?" She's asking so many questions "Let me come with! It'll be fun, I don't mind third-wheeling!" She smiles... it's a lie though. She hates third-wheeling. But it's okay, in the end, your date will be so uncomfortable that they'll leave and ghost you!

• Yandere Magical Girl who… would kill your dates. Oh, they tried getting you to do something you are uncomfortable with? Bone breaking time!! Skull crushing!! Meat grinder!!

"That's terrible (reader).. I'm so sorry they did that. Its okay, you'll probably never see them again!" Yumako says knowing damn well she killed your date the night before

• Yandere Magical Girl who… fights monsters and other evil entities all the time.. yet, if you were ever threatened or found out by one of her enemies, she would personally brutally murder her enemy. She will hang their head on top of a very tall pole.

"How do you know about (reader)? That's funny.. GOODNIGHT" The enemy's head is found severed from their body and stuck onto a pole.

• Yandere Magical Girl who… sounds like Mitsuri Kanroji! She's very soft spoken and sweet.

• Yandere Magical Girl who… brings you gifts all the time! Sweets, trinkets, plushes, etc.

"Here, I got this for you!" Yumako hands you a Kirby plushie "It got it since it was cute and sweet, just like you!"

• Yandere Magical Girl who… after a few weeks of thinking and planning.. decides to pull the ultimate move of all time. Even if you reject her..

• Yandere Magical Girl who… finally confesses.

"I love you (reader).. I always have. The love I hold for you is like no other! My love is pure and sweet, not lust-driven and deprived. (Reader) please accept me as your one and only, for all of time."

• Yandere Magical Girl who… in the end, would do anything for you. Destroy the world? You got it! Discover an alien species? On it!

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Welcome to the end credits! This is Yumako's new and improved fic! I hated how I wrote her other one and it made me so angry. I couldn't even read my own fic! It was so confusing! (𖦹ᯅ𖦹)

I hope you enjoyed reading as I enjoyed writing! (>ᴗ•) !

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

[lucifersresources]

speak now (taylor's version) vault tracks rp meme.

edit/alter/change pronouns etc as you see fit!  

electric touch.

just relax, it'll be okay.

i've got my money on things going badly.

got a history of stories ending sadly.

still hoping that the fire won't burn me.

this could either break my heart or bring it back to life.

your electric touch could fill this ghost town up with life.

i want you now.

i've been left in the rain, lost and pining.

trying hard not to look like i'm trying.

every time i tried hard for love, it fell apart.

i've grown accustomed to sleeping alone.

maybe the stars align and maybe i call you mine.

maybe the moment's right.

when emma falls in love.

this one could go wrong.

she's the kind of book that you can't put down.

all the bad boys would be good boys if they only had a chance to love her.

i wish i was her.

she takes on the pain and bears it on her own.

she won't walk away unless she knows she absolutely has to leave.

she won't lose herself in love the way that i did.

his whole world's about to change.

i can see you.

i spend my time trying not to feel it.

what would you do if i went to touch you now?

what would you do if they never found us out?

i could see you up against the wall with me.

i can see you.

something's changed.

they kept watchful eyes on us.

it's best that we move fast and keep quiet.

you won't believe half the things i see inside my head.

wait till you see half the things that haven't happened yet.

meet me tonight.

i could see you being my addiction.

you can see me as a secret mission.

i will start behaving myself.

castles crumbling.

i had an empire in a golden age.

i was held up so high.

i used to be great.

they used to cheer when they saw my face.

i fear i have fallen from grace.

i feel like my castle's crumbling down.

i watch all my bridges burn to the ground.

i will just let you down.

you don't wanna know me now.

i held that grudge till it tore me apart.

power went to my head.

i sit alone behind walls of regret.

i don't know how it could've ended this way.

people look at me like i'm a monster.

never wanted you to hate me.

foolish one.

my cards are on the table.

you've already got plans.

chances are i will talk myself to sleep again.

you give me just enough attention to keep my hopes too high.

you are not the exception.

you will never learn your lesson.

i know how to act like i'm fine.

i can't call you mine.

i will do my best to seem bulletproof.

how could i not see the signs?

you got her on your arm and me in the wings.

i'll get your longing glances, but she'll get your ring.

maybe i will finally learn my lesson.

timeless.

the kinda love that you only find once in a lifetime.

i know that you and i would've found each other in another life.

you still would've turned my head even if we'd met on a crowded street in 1944

you still would've been mine.

we would have been timeless.

i believe that we were supposed to find this.

even in a different life, you still would've been mine.

i'd die for you in the same way.

the story started when you say 'hello'.

sometimes there's no proof, you just know.

you're always gonna be mine.

i'm gonna love you when our hair is turning gray.

oh my, we really were timeless.

[giantchasm]

Dazor: Hello Peony. I’d ask about your ghosts and powers, but it seems that’s already been covered. Could you say more how you feel on Nick and Rhiainfellt? Understandable if that’s too much, otherwise more about any of your parents’ friends?

...But it's okay! I have Glock. And you know what I think? You only need one good friend to truly be happy. And I've got more friends than that, anyways! They're just not my age. I know I should probably try to be nicer to Rhiainfellt. I can only imagine she feels really alone. A long, long time ago— like way before me or even my parents were born, there was this mass exodus of people who used magic from intergalactic society. Among these people, the Jambandrans especially suffered. Most of them... uh, didn't make the journey, and even fewer have survived to modern day. Rhiainfellt's the only Jambandran I've ever met. And I imagine that has to be pretty lonely. Not knowing anyone who looks like you. Not knowing your history or culture or where you came from. It also doesn't help that she can't use magic— just another thing that makes her stick out like a sore thumb amidst her family. And with all of that in mind, I wish I could like her, but... I dunno. She's depressing. She's really resentful, and I think she should give her mom more credit sometimes. I don't think she feels the way Rhiainfellt thinks she feels about her at all. Then as for Nick... kind of self explanatory, yeah? Just about any person associated with the Mirror World is nothing but trouble... and people allied with Dark Mind especially. I don't care if Nick's dads think Dark Meta Knight is nice. He's a monster! And the less time I spend around him the better. Sorry, Nick. Both that I can't hang out and that you have to be subjected to that buffoon. It's not your fault your parents have bad taste.

...Oh my gosh! What a colorful cast.

This is another ask that only ended up being so much about Peony and more about the world she lives in and the people surrounding her, but it was still fun to answer. I like and have thoughts on all of my fankids, even if she's the favorite.

I think I may be the only person out there who ships Daroach/Rick. To my credit, it started as a joke. But then I got... invested somehow? In my Kirbyverse they grew up together, were partners in crime for a bit, then had a messy breakup after Rick turned over a new leaf and Daroach didn't. And now they've made amends!

Pick is here too, of course, because there is NOTHING I cannot stand more than when people remove a canonical female love interest from the equation to ship her more popular partner with a guy. Not that Rick is a popular character or that it happens to him. But it's about the PRINCIPLE of the thing, y'know? And Rick has two hands.

Also, yes, before anyone gets on my case for it: DMK was involved with The Sectonia Incident in my interpretation of the Kirby universe. I think people can get... really weird about people writing the character that way sometimes?

There's this pretty aggravating trend I've noticed in the fandom where something that is not canon will get misconstrued as Objectively Canon (I.E DMK being involved with that, Void Kirby theory, ETC), then people who are annoyed with this misinfo will go around saying canon actually Objectively Disproved that thing. Which... it did not do, either. Canon makes no comment on these situations. There is no "correct" interpretation. Just let people have fun, man.

So, yeah! I think DMK deserves to be a little bit of a dick. As a treat. I think portraying him as not the instigator of that incident, but rather a loyal servant who helped Dark Mind get away with all of that makes him an interesting parallel to Taranza himself. I like writing it that way, so it's canon to my Kirbyverse and by extension the world Peony lives in.

Which is all to say Peony's not a fan of him. Even though, as usual, she's sort of simplifying the situation. DMK is not a wonderful person, but he's no bogeyman, either.

Rhiainfellt is interesting. I originally came up with her based on the simple idea of "Awww... wouldn't it be cute if one of the Mage Sisters adopted a Jambandran like Hyness adopted them all those years ago?" But the more I've fleshed her out the more... weird and messed up she's become. I think she has an American Psycho monologue going on in her head at all times.

A troubled kid for sure. You know it's bad when even the girl who talks to dead people thinks someone's a little too much. Ohhhhh, poor thing. 😔

To be clear she doesn't have another parent or anything, by the way. All hail Zan Partizanne's single mom swag.

@kirbyoctournament

[sunset-a-story]

Get To Know Your Moots Writeblr Interview

Thank you to @ceph-the-ghost-writer who tagged me in this and you should def go read their post here! And thanks to @davycoquette for creating the event!

On the Tumblr Writing Community

How long have you had your writing Tumblr/Writeblr?

Since November 2022

What led you to create it?

After having a beyond shitty 2020-2021 and pulling away from social media in general, a friend suggested I give tumblr a shot. I was also desperately looking for beta readers for Sunset and wanted to get involved in a writer community.

What’s your favorite thing about the Writeblr community?

The people! Getting to connect with writers whose brains work like mine!! And getting to rotate their ocs in my head! I've made some incredible friendships through writeblr that I wouldn't trade for anything.

What’s one thing you’d like your mutuals to know about you?

I am as obsessed about Sunset as I seem (possibly more--let's not get into it) but I also love listening to people talk about the things they're obsessed with so I'm always up to exchange some excitement about our respective projects. Also, I'm hella dyslexic so if we chat, be warned you may get some word salad from me sometimes.

Is there anything you’d like to see more of on your dash?

I love seeing little quotes or snippets of info about OCs that help me become obsessed with them. And out of context lines/dialogue! Those are always a delight.

What tips/advice do you have for someone who made a Writeblr today?

Just put yourself out there! It took me a long time to be comfortable posting anything at all but that's the only way people can get a sense of your stories. Also, don't be scared to reach out to other writeblrs through asks and dms. We're a shy breed but once you corner us into a conversations, you've unleashed a flood of excitement.

WIP it Good

Which Works-in-Progress (WIPs) or writing projects are you noodling about, lately?

Sunset is my main project that I'm writing with my partner @touloserlautrec. It's a behemoth 2,000+ pages of converging plotlines and slow burn romance and intrigue and monster hunting. It's everything I love in a story wrapped up into one. Volume 1 (Sunrise) is out, Volume 2 (High Noon) is releasing weekly, and Volume 3 (Sunset) is probably 75% drafted. (Links in my intro if this somehow reaches someone who isn't already following me.) I've also been poking at a fluff side project to blow off steam for the first time in forever. It's a fluffy romance urban/fantasy with fae and a gay strip club. Just 'cause. I don't know that I'll ever post what I'm writing of this, but who knows?

How long have you been working on them?

Sunset for about 17 years, but seriously writing it for the past 8 years. Fluff Side Project? A month?

Do you remember what inspired them/what got you started?

I ran an in-person RPG back in college that led Tou and I to create the world of Sunset and the initial core cast (Reeve, Alex, Hannah, Gareth, Misha, Adler) and then it all spiraled out from there. Fluff Side Project comes from some characters we made just playing around in a world we created as a no-stress play zone. The problems are smaller. The stakes are nothing like the high tension world of Sunset. It's fun. It's gay as hell. It's fluffy. And July is my least favorite month so I decided, hey, why not write it down while I've got writer's block for Sunset?

How much time, in your best estimation, do you spend thinking about them?

Sunset: 28 hours a day. Fluff: I squeeze in 3 or 4 hours in the evening.

When someone asks the dreaded, “What do you write about,” question, what do you usually say?

I struggle to answer this question and it depends on who is asking. If it's on tumblr? I say I write science-fantasy slow build action with horror elements and lots of intrigue. IRL? I deflect.

What do you want to say (if it’s different from what you do say)?

I write about ruining Alex and Reeve's life.

Let’s Rotate Blorbos

Name any characters you created.

There. Are. Too. Many. My favorite babies from my head are Reeve, Penn, Marek, and Anise.

Who’s the most unhinged?

Hannah is my most unhinged trash-panda gremlin. My nudist sniper. Ace Queen. Never shave, never surrender.

Who comes the most naturally for you to write?

Reeve. And yes, that does worry me. (And my therapist.)

Do you ever cringe at them?

The #drag Reeve tag is a thing for a reason. (But really, I love him dearly and he doesn't truly deserve to be dragged as much as he is imo. It's a good bit tho)

How much control do you feel you have over your characters?

I can wrangle when I need to but they do feel like independent little critters in my head. Writing for me tends to be me transcribing the movie I'm watching in my head while muttering, "OHMYGOD Hannah are you seriously going to say that? What is wrong with you?" Or "Reeve. Reeve. REEVE NO."

Do you enjoy people asking questions about your characters?

OMFG YES. Please give me any excuse to talk about these guys.

On Writeblr Engagement

What makes you want to follow another Writeblr account?

If I jive with their WIP concepts or they have interesting OCs. Fantasy or sci-fi elements. Queerness. I'm more likely to follow if their intro has something about wanting to connect writers who are looking to hype each other up because that is what I am also looking for.

What makes you decide against following?

If their blog is full of hateful stuff or just super negative.

Do you interact with non-mutuals often?

Sure! I'm new enough to Tumblr that the lore of mutuals and non-mutuals hasn't rooted in my brain enough for me to super know which is which in my feed except for my small core group of moots I talk to regularly. So I interact with whatever posts catch my attention, moot or not.

Do your mutuals’ characters occupy space in your noodle?

OHMYGODYES. There is a little mobile of characters and animals (a fish and some frogs) that dangles over my little brain threatening to distract me at all times.

I'll no-pressure tag some of my beloved moots here that I haven't seen recently tagged with this: @scribe-of-stories @words-after-midnight @pandoras-comment-box @revenantlore

@void-botanist @covenscribe And of course, anyone else who wants to do it!

You can find the clean question template here

[perspectivestarters]

Perspective's Sentence Starters; Speak Now (Taylor's Version) by Taylor Swift (Part III)

ELECTRIC TOUCH

"Just breathe, just relax, it'll be okay."

"I've got my money on things goin' badly."

"Got a history of stories ending sadly."

"Still hoping that the fire won't burn me."

"All I know is this could either break my heart or bring it back to life"

"Got a feelin' your electric touch could fill this ghost town up with life."

"I want you now."

"Wanna need you forever."

"I've been left in the rain lost and pining."

"I'm tryin' hard not to look like I'm trying."

"Every time I tried hard for love, it fell apart."

"I've gotten used to no one callin' my phone."

"I've grown accustomed to sleepin' alone."

"I know that all it takes is to get it right."

"I was thinking just one time."

"Maybe the stars align and maybe I call you mine."

"Maybe the moment's right."

WHEN EMMA FALLS IN LOVE

"When (Name) falls in love, she paces the floor."

"The ways that this one could go wrong."

"Little Miss Sunshine always thinks it's gonna rain."

"I know that boy will never be the same."

"She's the kind of book that you can't put down."

"All the bad boys would be good boys if they only had a chance to love her."

"To tell you the truth, sometimes I wish I was her."

"When (Name) falls in love, it's all on her face."

"When (Name) falls in love, she disappears."

"We all just laugh after seein' it all these years."

"When (Name) falls apart, it's when she's alone."

"She takes on the pain and bears it on her own."

"When (Name) falls in love, she's in it for keeps."

"She won't walk away unless she knows she absolutely has to leave."

"She'll call you out."

"She'll put you in your place."

"(Name) met a boy with eyes like a man."

"Turns out her heart fits right in the palm of his hand."

"Now he'll be her shelter when it rains."

"His whole world's about to change."

I CAN SEE YOU

"You don't think I can see ya?"

"I’ve been watchin' you for ages."

"I spend my time tryin' not to feel it."

"But what would you do if I went to touch you now?"

"What would you do if they never found us out?"

"What would you do if we never made a sound?"

"I can see you waitin' down the hall from me."

"I could see you up against the wall with me."

"What would you do?"

"Baby, if you only knew."

"We kept everything professional."

"They keep watchful eyes on us."

"It's best that we move fast and keep quiet."

"You won't believe half the things I see inside my head."

"Wait 'til you see half the things that haven’t happened yet."

"I could see you throw your jacket on the floor."

"Make me want you even more."

"You know I won’t ever tell."

"I could see you being my addiction."

"You can see me as a secret mission."

"Hide away and I will start behaving myself."

CASTLES CRUMBLING

"I had an empire in a golden age."

"I was held up so high."

"I used to be great."

"They used to cheer when they saw my face."

"I fear I have fallen from grace."

"I feel like my castle's crumbling down."

"I watch all my bridges burn to the ground."

"You don't want to know me."

"I will just let you down."

"I was the great hope for a dynasty."

"Crowds would hang on my words."

"They trusted me."

"Their faith was strong, but I pushed it too far."

"I held that grudge 'til it tore me apart."

"Power went to my head and I couldn't stop."

"Ones I loved tried to help, so I ran them off."

"Here I sit alone behind walls of regret."

"Falling down like promises that I never kept."

"My foes and friends watch my reign end."

"I don't know how it could've ended this way."

"People look at me like I'm a monster."

"They're screaming that they hate me."

"Never wanted you to hate me."

FOOLISH ONE

"Chances are, tonight, you've already got plans."

"Chances are I will talk myself to sleep again."

"You give me just enough attention to keep my hopes too high."

"Wishful thoughts forget to mention when something's really not right."

"You are not the exception."

"You will never learn your lesson."

"Stop checkin' your mailbox for confessions of love that ain't never gonna come.""

"You will take the long way down."

"You know how to keep me waitin'."

"I know how to act like I'm fine."

"Don't know what to call this situation."

"I know I can't call you mine."

"I will do my best to seem bulletproof."

"Maybe, someday, when we're older, this is something we'll laugh about."

"You will learn the hard way instead of just walkin' out."

"How could I not see the signs?"

"You haven't written me or called."

"You got her on your arm and me in the wings."

"I'll get your longing glances, but she'll get your ring."

"Maybe I will finally learn my lesson."

"They ain't never gonna come."

"The day is gonna come for your confessions of love."

"When all is said and done, he just wasn't the one."

TIMELESS

"Down the block, there's an antique shop."

"The kinda love that you only find once in a lifetime."

"The kind you don't put down."

"In those photos, I saw us instead."

"Somehow, I know that you and I would've found each other."

"In another life, you still would've turned my head even if wе'd met."

"You still would've been mine."

"We would have been timeless."

"I would've read your love letters every single night."

"Prayed to God you'd be comin' home all right."

"I believe that we were supposed to find this."

"I had to smile when it caught my eye."

"Brought me back to the first time I saw you."

"Time stood still like somethin' in this old shop."

"I thought about it as I started lookin' 'round."

"Hundreds of years ago, they fell in love, like we did."

"I'd die for you in the same way if I first saw your face."

"Run away and left it all behind."

"Time breaks down your mind and body."

"Don't you let it touch your soul."

"It was like an age-old classic the first time that you saw me."

"Sometimes there's no proof, you just know."

"I'm gonna love you when our hair is turnin' grey."

"We'll have a cardboard box of photos of the life we've made."

"Oh my, we really were timeless."

[theresattrpgforthat]

THEME: Teenage Hijinx. 

This weeks’ games are all about the transformative period of adolescence: from first crushes, to the new weight of responsibility, to the feeling that you have no idea (or control over) what’s going on. 

Monsterhearts 2, by Avery Alder.

By the time they hit adolescence, most people have gotten over their fear of the dark. They spend their midnight hour on gushy phone calls, diary ramblings, and wet dreams. They fall asleep peacefully, assured that the shadows hold no monsters.

But the shadows do hold monsters. You know because you’re one of them. Wickedness dwells within your heart, hunger courses through your veins. High school weighs on you and teen drama puts you on edge, but you have power. What do you do next?

Monsterhearts 2 lets you and your friends create stories about sexy monsters, teenage angst, personal horror, and secret love triangles. When you play, you explore the terror and confusion of having a body that is changing without your permission.

With a second edition to update some of the rules and mechanics, Monsterhearts 2 has received a lot of love from players and creators alike. You are playing teenagers who feel the deep-seated discomfort of a changing body, sometimes against your own will. Adolescence can be ugly, and this game helps you embrace that. There are a number of playbooks, called skins, that have been created by the community, including a supplement called Acehearts, for asexual characters who may not want to play with the sex moves with the rules-as-written.

Kids on Bikes, by Hunters Entertainment.

The door to the old house creaks open, the rust on the hinges groaning as you see the dust floating like spores in the air inside. By the faint light of your cheap flash- lights, you see the stairs to the upper floor, its railings gnarled and broken like crooked teeth. Their curve makes the stairs seem almost like a hungry grin, and you wonder if their age will support your weight. Still, you must go in. 

The only question is who will go first? 

Kids on Bikes is a Collaborative World Building RPG set in small towns with big mysteries. It is a rules-light storytelling system that gets players into the action fast. The Adventures of Kids on Bikes take place in small towns at any point in history before everyone had a camera phone that could catch video of a Ghost, use a GPS to track a Homicidal Maniac roaming around town, or research an old creaky house in seconds using Google. Kids on Bikes takes place in a more mysterious time, where anything and everything *could* happen. 

This is a game with plenty of tools to help you built a setting similar to your favourite piece of media, whether that be Stranger Things, The Goonies, or a similar piece of nostalgia. The group will work collaboratively to create the town you live in, local rumours, and a powered character. This power character its collectively controlled, rather than played by one single person. When it comes to the dice used in this game, you’ll likely be using everything from a d4 to a d20, which can make it a bit difficult to determine how often a character may obtain success, but is a good representation of how good your character is at certain things. If you like this style of gaming, you can also check out Teens in Space and Kids on Brooms, which use the same rules for different genres of kids on various adventures.

Visigoths vs. Mall Goths, by Lucian Kahn.

Visigoths vs. Mall Goths is a tabletop roleplaying game and dating sim about the conflicts and romances among the warriors who sacked ancient Rome and 20th century spooky teens, set in a suburban Los Angeles shopping mall during 1996. There are a lot of bisexuals.

The plot structure of Visigoths vs. Mall Goths resembles an open-world videogame RPG. Designed for either one-shot or campaign play, each adventure episode offers several quests that you may choose to pursue (or ignore), and the mall setting is packed with many strange retro marvels to discover. Or you can just replay the game over and over to kiss all the kissable clerks.

If you like the idea of teenage grudges and crushes all pooling together into one hot mess of overblown competition and wild chases across a 90’s mall, this game is for you. With 6 character options and two factions: Mall Goths and Visigoths, this game uses Powered by the Apocalypse mechanics to pit your players against each-other, encourage the characters to embarrass themselves for the good of their friends, and perhaps even kiss a cute shop clerk along the way. This game comes with 6 pre-built adventures for GMs that want an easy-to-run experience, as well as well-designed map of the mall and a list of clerks and local teenagers. It’s perfect for first-time GMs or folks who want an easy-to-start introduction to roleplaying.

Breakfast Cult, by Weird Age Games.

In the Weird Age of the late 21st century, the newly-discovered occult sciences are changing the world. If you want to learn them, Occultar Academy is the place to go. In this secluded island school, talented students from all over the world can learn sorcery and occultech under the Foundation's watchful eye.

...But they won't tell you everything.

Breakfast Cult is a Fate Accelerated TTRPG about cosmic horror mysteries and high school drama. Play students at the world's best occult school as they solve mysteries, uncover the terrible secrets of the Ancient Ones, and try to find which of their classmates is conspiring against them before it's too late!

The game starts when a normal, ordinary day at Occultar academy goes horribly wrong. In this anime-style, high-school-horror game, you and your classmates will work to uncover a conspiracy that is both awakening an Ancient One and sending you to detention - and you don’t deserve to go to detention! With inspirations such as Persona, Soul Eater, and Danganronpa, you can expect many hi-jinx to ensue as your characters desperately try to continue your studies.

Girl Underground, by Hedgemaze Press.

Inspired by Alice’s Adventures in Wonderland, Labyrinth, The Wizard of Oz, Spirited Away and similar tales, Girl Underground is a tabletop roleplaying game about a curious girl and her strange companions as they travel through a wondrous world, complete a quest, and find the way back home.

The world the Girl finds herself in is equal parts fantastic and perplexing, full of characters who operate using strange logic and speak in riddles. Thankfully, she has found friends who she can rely on, and who rely on her in turn. These friends represent the archetypes found in these kinds of stories: talking animals, living dolls, friendly giants and other quirky companions. Girl Underground is designed to tell a satisfying story in just one session, making it perfect for convention games or for game nights when you don’t have a full table. The game comes with a variety of locations to explore, making Girl Underground great for short campaigns of 2–4 sessions.

Each playbook for this game comes with beats that your character can hit, which is not surprising for a game that is Powered by the Apocalypse. With the 2d6 and staggered levels of success that are iconic of the PbtA system, Girl Underground makes these rules work for a game that is much shorter than other games that use the same mechanics. While Girl Underground is still in play-testing, there are 4 playbooks ready-to-use, with 3 more on the way. If you like Alice in Wonderland, or stories about children finding solace in magical worlds, this might be the game for you.

Slugblaster, by Mikey Hamm. 

In the small town of Hillview, teenage hoverboarders sneak into other dimensions to explore, film tricks, go viral, and get away from the problems at home. It’s dangerous. It’s stupid. It’s got parent groups in a panic. And it’s the coolest thing ever.

This is Slugblaster. A table-top rpg about teenagehood, giant bugs, circuit-bent rayguns, and trying to be cool.

Slugblaster is a wild child of a game, with an abundance of evocative set-pieces, lists of interesting obstacles, and NPC factions that are sure to provide your group with compelling rivals, overbearing adults, and devoted fans. If you don’t want to play in the sleepy town of Hillview, there are a number of other hometowns written by a cornucopia of contributors for your group to call home base. The game is built off of Forged in the Dark mechanics, with slimmed-down stats and a Turbo option for a faster setup. 

What I especially love about Slugblaster is the vibe. It’s easy to get folks on board when you can drop hints about mathpanthers, logic binders, and the concerned parent group that Stacy’s Mom runs. This is a game with bright colours and teenage nostalgia, and I heavily suggest you check this one out.

[koukaaa-descent]

experimental writing about two old ocs I’ve never brought up anywhere #lol

>You miss the sky?

>>No. Not the sky that you recall. The sky that I knew saw things beyond your imagination. Gods, dragons, dinosaurs, meteors, rain, storms. A plethora of peculiar things.

>But they all had names. They always had names.

>>They always had names.

>Sometimes I wonder how long we’re gonna last. You were born to die. So was I. It’s just a tragedy in motion, one neither of us can stop.

>>A car crash. A tsunami. A dream.

>Yeah. A dream. I’m sorry about the time that I had kept clinging on to you. When you died, I lost something. Didn’t even know that you were you, and that I was I, and it still hurt the same.

>>That’s the problem with this, Lagrus. The sky falls, the dream ends, the curtains close. We’re still here. The beginning begins again, and I’m left in the same world in which I lost you. And now, I spend eternities finding you again.

>Wont you get tired of this? I’m tired of it. Knowing intrinsically but only in those very last moments before you’re gone, and I’m left to live a solitary life until the end of this story.

>>I made that bracelet for you for a reason. Even if we don’t recognize each other, even if I can’t recall the first fragment of your name, or the color of the spark which first created you, or the taste of your carbon on my tongue, there’d always be that piece with you. Always.

>Sometimes I wonder how long we’ll last, Eternatus. All of the time in the world is not enough time. Sometimes I find you, and you find me. We get to spend these fleeting lifetimes wrapped up in each other, just like we are now. It’s a little pathetic to hug your own body, isn’t it? But we only have so much time. Eternity is too short. It’s too long.

>>Sometimes I wonder how long we’ll last, Lagrus. The story is long but it has always had an end. Will it end when you tell me goodnight over the phone? Will it end when I walk away? Will it end when my spark never ignites? I hope so. I pray not.

>An eternity is not long enough. Ouroboros; möbius strip. The eternity is long but not forever. Sometimes I remember your hand as that which is made out of starlight, Eternatus. Sometimes it’s nothing at all. Sometimes I am guiding your ghost through a dark sea, ferrying you somewhere safe. Sometimes I am young, and you are too, and I am laughing as I drag you behind me, dappled in light. Sometimes we are old, and your hand is in mine, and you are staring at our hands and admiring the rings with the same awe you felt the day I presented them to you.

>>Sometimes we are monsters, Lagrus. But not always.

>The story has always needed to end, Eternatus. But perhaps it should last a moment longer still.

>>I would miss you, if we were nothing. It we were atoms, scattered across the vast nothing.

>I would miss you, too.

[wlwlwlwlwlwlw]

okay, thank you to @taxfrauddyke for encouraging me to post this

this is a small excerpt from a ronance hanahaki au, where robin has the disease. she makes a bucket list with the party and they spend the summer checking it off. this is after skinny dipping with nancy and splitting a bottle of whiskey. enjoy

“If I told my fifteen year old self…that I’d be more comfortable with gunpowder than nail polish, that I could face down a monster but be terrified to go to a sleepover, that -“

“That you’d be skinny dipping with Robin buckteeth -“

Nancy laughs, genuinely, at Robin’s self jab, but then her smile drops. She’s still looking at the ceiling and Robin thinks once more tonight that their resident sharpshooter, the shitkicker, the one in their party that gets things done more than any of the rest of them combined, is so…small. Fragile, in a way. All of them were, hell, every human in comparison to the horrors they had faced was unspeakably fragile, but Nancy had a way of letting people forget that about her. Robin tried to make a space in the front of her mind not to forget: sometimes, Nancy needed to be protected, too.

“I never called you that,” she slips softly out into the space between them.

“No, I know,” Robin reassures.

“But I didn’t stop them from saying it, either.”

“Nance, it’s -“

“Isn’t that worse?” Nancy asks, the slightest tinge of pleading in her voice. There’s something she wants, and Robin can’t figure it out. There’s something she wants, and Robin would crack the world in half to give it to her.

“Isn’t it worse to hear it and just do nothing? I smiled, I laughed, I…encouraged them.” Nancy shakes her head, sits up just enough to grab the neck of the whiskey bottle and bring it back down with her. She takes a swig, roughly, and dammit but Robin does enjoy watching everything Nancy does. Her knuckles white on the neck, her throat bobbing. A drop of liquid escapes at the crux of her lips and Robin watches it slide down Nancy’s cheek with agonizing slowness.

“What did it feel like?” Nancy asks. Robin looks for elucidation on Nancy’s face, but there isn’t any. What did being bullied feel like? It’s not hard to guess the answer. But Nancy didn’t ask smugly, and it didn’t seem like she was performing some kind of fucked up, protracted bullying by forcing robin to relive the high school halls. It felt more like Nancy was trying to punish herself.

“Like I was drowning,” Robin whispers, and Nancy closes her eyes. “Drowning in my own skin and I couldn’t get out of it.”

Robin props herself up on an elbow and drinks from the bottle, setting it back down between them. She studies Nancy’s repose, her informal meditation. Robin felt like she could almost see the frantic speed that Nancy’s thoughts were moving at. Do you ever get scared of the speed of your own mind? Robin thinks at the other girl. Do you ever want to turn it off because it’s been going eighty all day and the pace has outdone you? When it’s three a.m. and you’re bone-tired but the insipid thing won’t even slow down?

“Sometimes I want to un-exist,” Robin blurts out. Nancy opens her eyes and looks, quizzically but tenderly, at Robin. “My thoughts are too loud and too fast and they never turn off. And sometimes my brain is not my friend. A lot of the time, actually.”

Robin can’t stand the full weight of Nancy’s gaze on her if it’s not in annoyance, so she lays back down and stares into the ceiling, too. “I don’t wanna kill myself, it’s not that. but I wish I could just…turn Robin off for a day. Stop analyzing and over-analyzing and following thoughts down into their own shitty rabbit holes.”

Robin imagines being a ghost floating above everything, watching her friends from above. Nancy and Steve, laughing over milkshakes. The kids in their gangly-limbed love, in an indistinguishable pile, arguing over the plot points of a movie. She indulges in the safety of it all. She wants to share it with Nancy, if only to soothe away her restless thoughts.

Robin shakes her head. The prospect that Nancy Wheeler could self sabotage with just her mind, the same way Robin does, seems more than just far fetched. But, Robin supposes stranger things had already happened. “Don’t let your thoughts make you feel bad about yourself, Nancy Wheeler. Especially not for dumb shit that happened in high school.”

There’s a stretch of silence.

“The way you described it,” Nancy begins softly, “I feel like that sometimes, too. Mostly when I think about losing her.” Robin didn’t need clarification on whom Nancy meant. “Everyone was so focused on Will they completely forgot about her. And I felt like I was screaming, but nobody could hear me. Like I had hold of her hand at the bottom of that pool, and no one…no one would reach in and grab us.”

Robin chances a look at Nancy. Her eyes are closed again, and a solemn tear track makes its way down her face. Robin aches to brush it away, and with the whiskey pouring through her she almost does - friends would do that for other friends, right? - but she remains still.

“It’s like, I can so clearly trace everything back to that night. When all of my careful little plans for life just…unraveled.” In the ghost of the light, the outline of Nancy’s face glows, the tears like shimmering runways. Her blue eyes flutter open, and Nancy locks onto Robin. “Sometimes I feel like all of this is just punishment. For not taking care of her.”

Nancy has a look of mild astonishment, like she can’t believe what she said out loud. Her eyes screw shut again, and a fresh wave of tears beckon to Robin to be brushed away. This time, against her own advisement, Robin leans over and lightly tracks the tears onto her pointer finger. “Nance,” she drawls, unsure of what to say. Her heart breaks watching Nancy.

Steve told Robin about the truth of what happened to Barb, about Nancy’s one night of teenage rebellion. He told her how Nancy slipped away from him, muttering about men without a face, and trying to hit her where it hurt when he saw her with Jonathan Byers. The fight, the apology, the trusty bat full of nails. But Steve didn’t tell Robin that Nancy was still haunted by the specter of her singular mistake. Maybe Steve didn’t know.

Robin thinks about the day she put a word to her own feelings, a word people slung with casual vitriol between insults, like it was a status lower than dirt. How when she made the connection, she could never go back to her mental state of vaguery and denial. The day all of her plans unraveled. She doesn’t want Nancy to be caught in the pool with no one to reach out for her.

“But Nance, you didn’t choose for that to happen. It’s not a consequence of your choices. It’s a consequence of the world doing something shitty to you. Against you.”

Robin thinks about Barb, the tall, hilarious, demure best friend that she and Nancy would never get back. She thinks about Vecna’s specific torture towards Nance. She goes back farther and thinks about Barb and herself in middle school, the heated arguments they would have about the physics behind lightsabers or the force, before barb cared about having cool friends and discussing boys’ outfits.

“You chose to look for her. You chose to make the lab admit that she was dead. You chose to be the best sharpshooter in Indiana, and I know it was so that you could keep people safe. I know because I watch you put yourself between us and danger,” Robin says, steadily. She drops to a whisper. “Everything you chose to do, you did it to help. To save. Or at least, to try.”

Robin is looking at the ceiling, her heart threatening to thump out of her chest. Nancy’s gaze is burning a hole in the side of her face. She whispers again; her speech needs a conclusion. “I was serious when I told you not to self sabotage, Nancy Wheeler.”

Suddenly, a weight is on top of Robin, and it takes her fumbling brain a few seconds to register that the weight is Nancy, who has launched herself onto Robin without any warning. Her heart thrashes wildly and she worries that Nancy will be able to tell, just from that, about the truth of Robin’s feelings for her. But Nancy has her arms crossed behind Robin’s head and she’s sobbing into Robin’s neck, so she seems too preoccupied to take notice of it.

Robin can feel a slight heave from Nancy’s small sobs, and she reaches around Nancy to smooth a comforting pattern on her back. For a moment, Robin doesn’t worry about how friends would touch friends, and she holds a sobbing Nancy Wheeler, one hand on her back and the other cradling her head. “You’re okay,” she whispers, once, pressing her lips right next to Nancy’s ear to tell her. If there was one last thing Robin could do with her time on earth, it would be protecting Nancy Wheeler. “You’re okay.”

[wordsandrobots]

The Wishing on Space Hardware playlist (story edition) v1.0

Hmm. A touch premature, perhaps, but while my grand finale plans include a stupidly ambitious attempt to compose a playlist of songs fitted to each character I’m using as a point of view (30+!), I have collected enough IBO-feeling songs to do that for fics in the series too. Well, I did after committing to the bit and hunting down ones to fit the stragglers. We are 18 posted out of 20, so there’s a possibility I’ll revise this later. But hey! For the moment, I’m quite happy with how this came out. And if you like mixes of British folk, indie rock, Country-adjacent stuff, and Leonard Cohen, maybe you will be as well. (Special achievement: it’s not wall-to-wall Thea Gilmore songs.)

For those of you just tuning in, my post-canon Iron-Blooded Orphans series Wishing on Space Hardware can be found at Ao3 via all good web browsers (probably the bad ones too). Full spoilers for both seasons of the anime come as standard.

Arc #1: Moving on or standing still

A Handful of Rusted Petals – Embers [Skinny Lister]

Long is the distance, hard is the mile / That drags me away from our innocent smile / Where wild is the welcome, the company right / Far from the rattle and roar of the fight

I like Skinny Lister a lot and thought this fit the bittersweet themes of these vignettes rather well.

The Grandmaster – The Game [The Levellers]

The clock ticked past the final hour / Which of the men had lost? and what was the cost? / The glasses now were empty and gone / To wash away the shame, and take away the pain

While not 100% on the money, this song seems to capture the feel of the Elion vs McGillis conflict, from Elion’s side at least.

To Catch a Falling Star – Get Better [Frank Turner]

So try and get better and don't ever accept less / Take a plain black marker and write this on your chest / Draw a line underneath all of this unhappiness / Come on now, let's fix this mess / We could get better because we're not dead yet

Gender flip the lyrics and this is basically Yamagi and Shino in this fic to a T.

Fragments of You/Pieces of Me – Injuries [Skinny Lister]

On the advice of my heart I flew / Into the burning sun / And for the life of me I can’t / Find me a way to return

Because sometimes life is at once fundamentally difficult and nevertheless glorious.

Arc #2: Monsters out of the past

Let Sleeping Angels Lie – Call You Friend [Oysterband]

So many times we’ve disagreed / Don’t count the cost there’s a greater need / We sit and watch each other bleed / That’s why I call you friend

Eugene and Shino’s relationship in a nutshell.

Between Family – The Power of Unity [Masaru Yokoyama]

(With full apologies to Mr Yokoyama. I tried to come up with an actual song but using this track is much funnier. Plus, you know. Smut. I don’t tend to spend much time putting lyrics to that.)

I can picture the polyamorous numpties to this far, far too well.

The Ares Affair – Everybody Knows [Leonard Cohen]

Everybody knows that the dice are loaded / Everybody rolls with their fingers crossed / Everybody knows the war is over / Everybody knows the good guys lost

The point where WoSH swerves hard from ‘fix-it’ to ‘consequences of fixing it’.

The Haunting of Takaki Uno – Don’t Dim Your Light For Anyone [Thea Gilmore]

The world is fierce, it's hard as nails / When you do good but goodness fails / You crawl the road that others run / Don't dim your light for anyone

I find Takaki tricky to write because his voice isn’t quite as distinct as Yamagi or Ride, but I know exactly what I want to capture through him.

Arc #3: The pressure of ghosts

Frozen Sunlight – Apparition #12 [Thea Gilmore]

And I smelled the ghosts of the ashes and the orchids / I've got promises tattooed to the insides of my eyelids / And I'll be watching when the Richter reaches ten / I bled by these weapons, babe, and now I'm one of them

Two Thea Gilmore songs in a row, I know, but they have very different tones and this is on point for my interpretation of Azee.

Of Obsessions and Erotemes – A Good Song Never Dies [Saint Motel]

There was a moment, a hole opened in the sky / A chance to join their pantheon / For all the times they never heard your battle cry / Now even angels sing along

I only encountered this song recently but I can see Iverson to it, so now it’s their villain theme.

Revolution for Beginners and Polyamory for Dumbasses – Modern Way [The Kaiser Chiefs]

Hold on to the basics / But we can't change all our tactics / There's no point sitting / Going crazy on your own

Had originally penciled in ‘Truth Is’ by the Levellers for this, but I think ‘Modern Way’ is more applicable to the whole.

Under a Crescent Moon – Son of the Left Hand [Duke Special]

In dying light my shadow calls / I watch his fingers stalk the walls / And now in hollow down I stumble on / The rubble of my babylon

Goes harder than perhaps the tone of the fic strictly requires, but honestly? I think that’s probably earned by the situation.

Arc #4: Schemes and daydreams

Eugene Sevenstark and the Hesperus Treasure – Plans [Devil and the Deep Blue Sea]

And I should find / A better way to spend my time / Than spinning grand designs / Every day with you

The story dealing with coincidence and anticlimax felt like it needed something soothing as a soundtrack.

Hope Against Hope – All This And Heaven Too [Florence + The Machine]

And I would give all this and heaven too / I would give it all if only for a moment / That I could just understand the meaning of the word you see / 'Cause I've been scrawling it forever, but it never makes sense to me at all

I listened to this a lot while writing the next story in the series, but it fits Kudelia too well not to use here.

Love, Death and Cannoli – Fire and Water [The Wandering Hearts]

All love's like fire and water / I ask myself, "Should I bother?" / When you look at me with those big brown eyes / And I know what I'll do / I've tried but it's impossible / Can't keep myself away from you

The Yamagi/Shino song as far as I’m concerned.

Fata Morgana – Belgrade [Battle Tapes]

We pretend in the darkness / We pretend the night won’t steal our youth / Singing me the sweet songs of seduction / Let me be the fool, fool, fool / Who will live and die for you

There are many ways to be seduced and become a fool for others. Also I needed a banging tune for what is, broadly, a long action sequence of a fic.

Arc #5: The end of the world

We Three Kings – Bullet [Saint Motel]

You don't stop a bullet that you set into motion / You don't stop a fire when you light an explosion / So then, why would we fight it? Already ignited / Counting down, down, down, down

This story is inevitable. Or if it isn’t, the major events are underway long before our protagonists arrive. And then there’s that one-in-a-million shot...

History of a Catastrophe – Who By Fire? [Leonard Cohen, live version]

And who by brave assent, who by accident / Who in solitude, who in this mirror / Who by his lady's command, who by his own hand / Who in mortal chains, who in power / And who shall I say is calling?

More Leonard Cohen, with this particularly beautiful version of the song, for an exploration of how terrible systems warp people’s lives.

Ragnarök in G Minor – Battlegrounds [Coco and the Butterfields]

Hey, hey, what do you say when you fall down / Hey, hey, go away from battlegrounds / And I, I feel like I'm living just to stop you winning / So carry on, carry on, carry on ‘til I'm gone

It’s that third line in the chorus. That’s the fic. (Or it will be once I’ve written this monster; the document passed 1MB a couple of weeks back, ye gods.)

A Day in the Light – Something for the Pain [She Drew the Gun]

Walls for the wind / Shelter from the rain / Something for the hunger / And something for the pain

This will be the coda to the series. And I feel this song works well for the history of IBO’s setting. A summing up, if you will.

[algumaideia]

Just saw sb say Jasico shippers who are also Solangelo antis are losers who dont care for Nico’s healing journey

anyway an AU in which Nico did leave both Camps after the war, spent a few years afterward traveling the world to see and meet more people, learning about the LGBT+ community, working as an ambassador for his dad, talking to ghosts, ended up having his knowledge horizon widened, and returned to the Camps much later as a completely different human being - at peace and free.

I can damn well save him without putting him in a couple. Solangelo isn’t special. Selflove Nico for the win.

(I very much love Solangelo, but I decided to take this personally bc im also a Jasico die hard, so)

Hello anon!!

Sorry for taking so long to answer you!! My mind has been all over the place. But here it is. Also, I'm sorry bc this is sort of a mess.

I agree with you, there are jasico shippers who also ship solangelo and not liking one ship doesn't mean you want a character to be miserable. And sometimes you want a character to be miserable and that is okay!

I'm not sure if this was a writing request, but I read your ask as this and wrote something.

Also I saw across the spiderverse lately and the idea of punk!Nico got in my head and now it just can't go away.

(the idea is that now Nico only deals with monsters and ghosts who are harming humans or demigods, and not shit related to gods and their missions. Also he sees some gusy from time to time but it is not dating, although I didn't make his romantic situation explicit)

...

Strange. That was the best word to define what Nico felt going back to Camp Half-Blood after so much time. His shoulders tensed and he felt a familiar discomfort on his stomach. His body was preparing for the judgement. It was just bad memories. He didn't care what those people thought about him, they were strangers and children. But in the end it didn't matter how much healing he had done in the past years, his past would always scar him. At least now, it didn't hurt.

Before he changed his mind, Nico entered the camp. It didn't look much different. The cabins are basically the same, kids running with the old ugly camp shirts, a lot of noise and fighting. Some part of him felt like he went back on time.

"Nico di Angelo."

The demigod opened a big smile. He recognized that sweet voice. Turning around he bowed to one of the only gentle beings he met at this place.

"Lady Hestia."

"It's been a long time since we saw each other."

Nico felt guilty. He had always liked Lady Hestia, since the first day they'd met. It wasn't his intention to spend so many years without seeing her.

"I'm sorry. You were almost always in camp and I..."

"It wasn't an accusation, you don't have to worry."

She looked at him with kindness. She always had.

“You look better.”

“I am better.”

Hestia nodded. She seemed satisfied.

“I imagine you want to talk to Dianisius and Chiron. They are at the Big House. See you around, Nico di Angelo.”

Nico bowed.

“I’ll go after you so we can properly talk when I finish at the Big House.”

“I’ll be waiting.”

Hestia walked away in the direction of her fire. Her appearance was the same as when Nico met her which comforted him for some reason.

While walking to the Big House, Nico asked himself where would he like to go on this visit? Would he want to meet some kids? Make a sort of tour? Avoid everyone besides Hestia? Would he want to see his old cabin? Enjoy the woods?

“Nico!! You… you changed!”

Nico smiled in amusement at Chiron's surprised face. He guessed his traumatic young self didn’t look like someone who would end up being a punk. He no longer wore only black, had tons of piercings, tattoos and some spikes in his clothes.

“I guess you could say that.”

“What brings you back here? Is there any problem?”

“No, I just wanted to see how things are.”

“Well, feel welcomed. I can give you a tour and show you the new things we got since the last time you came here.”

“I appreciate the offer, but I think I’ll just see my cabin.”

“Would you like to talk to the kids? I’m sure they can learn something useful with such an experienced demigod as you.”

Nico pondered the question. It was not like he was opposed to helping the kids, but he really didn’t want to have anything to do with what was happening at camp. Sure, there were some changes made by Apollo, however Nico still despised what was going on there. 

“If the kids have any problem with a mission you can call me, I wouldn’t mind helping them.”

It wasn’t what Chiron asked and Nico didn’t care. He shook his head as a way to say good-bye and walked away. 

Nico wasn't sure what he expected with his visit. Maybe have some closure? See how much of his past he had overcome? Throw salt in the almost healed wound? Maybe he just didn’t want to feel like he was running from his past.

Seeing Hestia was good, though. And coming back just made him feel sure he made the right choice to leave the camp. What would have he become in a place like this that also ostracized him? Would he have become comfortable with his sexuality? As much as he was now? Maybe he would still be doing missions for gods. 

Should he go to his cabin? He didn’t have much to do with the kid he once was, lonely, full of self-hatred, in love with some boy, sometimes consumed by trauma. He had a community now, had made friends, moved on, worked on his problems. Maybe he should just really leave all of this behind, talk to Hestia and give his proper goodbye to this haunted place. Yeah, Nico would do that. 

Visiting Camp Half-Blood ended up not being so bad in the end.

[dcviated]

misc symbol headcanons :: open

send a symbol for stuff about the muses

@ordonianpumpkin sent: 💤 👻 - raguna

💤 - How does your muse sleep? Are they a light sleeper, or are they out the moment their head hits the pillow? Do they nap? Do they struggle to sleep due to things like insomnia, or nightmares?

Raguna's the one over here with an old person sleep schedule in his 20s. He's never up too late after dark (unless work takes him late or it's a special event) and rises before dawn so he can hit the chores out the gate. For better or worse, at least, this necessity is not one greatly encumbered. He'll spend time in bed writing in his journal and maybe reading some if there's a book he enjoys. But once about... 9 or 10pm hits those things get put away, and the head hits the hay.

Raguna is out like a light. And sleeps like the dead. Mostly a face down sleeper that holds onto his pillow. Sleep tends towards solid. But he's not immune to bad dreams or nightmares, even if they're infrequent. The content of said dreams is weird, to say the least. Dancing vegetables. Strange natural disasters or runaway monsters. Bad what-ifs from his daily life that have the oddness factor cranked up.

Naps? Sometimes. Little bits to catch a second wind underneath a tree or on a bench. He's not going to lay down on a couch or in bed midday though. Not of his own volition at least. Raguna, once moving, needs to keep moving. Strong productive momentum we all wish we had too.

👻 - How does your muse handle feeling scared? Do they enjoy horror? Do they believe in the paranormal? What calms your muse down? Do they have any scary stories?

I was just thinking about this the other day!... Raguna falls somewhere in the middle, I suppose. Neither is he the type to panic entering any building with a creepy vibe, nor will he shrug off every small sound as nothing to worry about. He tries to be more logical about things, but in a world that does have ghosts (and he's talked to several himself) (even more if you count magical spirits) maybe it's to be expected? Or dismissed? Idk. Suffice to say though even in modern/non-magic verses he'll accept the existence too.

Raguna is ... sorta kinda masochistic when it comes to creepy tales and similar. He likes to learn more things and hear stories and kinda likes a chill factor. But too much and he'll get the heeby jeebies. Don't ask him to share scary stories either, because his metric will be totally off kilter from everyone else's. Like a broken piece of farm equipment or a tree that fell. Stupid.

...hm, what calms him down? I haven't thought too much about that. As far as coping mechanisms go he hasn't taken the time to really develop any. His way of moving forward is to work forward. So shove that anxiety into swinging the farm tools harder or walking faster to where he needs to go! It works!

[uwowrites]

sorry if another request is just too much for your health, please take as much time as you want;

i had a weird but still cute dream about uwo, where the whole office wanted probably to kill someone, but they were hiding it from boss so he wouldnt be worried, he seemed so happy, everyone knew about the real rules about bright and dark but noone was mad, eugene and boss seemed like really happy father & son duo playing together and smiling on a swing, boss even put his hat on eugene and i want to cry from happiness since i saw all that and the whole office ended playing together

so after all that, could you do some headcanons with boss spending time with office members like nothing bad ever happened ☹️🙏🏻 living their best lives as ghosts and caring about each other, zero problems and bad thoughs,, please please please <3

im begging on my knees

Of course! Even I like to pretend CIU never happened.

Also, no need to apologize for the request.

So, along with headcanons I though of before CIU came out.

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

Good god someone help this man handle his chaotic family (Platonic headcanons)

Boss & River:-

They just radiate too much sibling energy.

The bickering, the way they care about each other (Boss scolding Eugene for calling River to a place she couldn't go).

Although they argue and fight, they are the most effective and scariest duo.

Legit, threaten Eugene and these two will throw hands. You have the silent and deadly one teaming up with a carefree and strong fighter.

They have solved the most number of cases together.

And they have competitions about who has solved the most cases in the month.

River has challenged him to flying competitions.

The two have talked about their pasts. Although it took Boss a long time to open up, he started to view her as family (she was the first person for him to see that way)

River has seen Boss get mad before. She has seen him rage to the point where he stopped caring about mortals. It wasn't as though he became a bad person, he was sick of fighting and defending people who did such sinful things. While that time was brief, she admits that she would much rather prefer seeing him care about mortals than not.

He pushes River to solve cases. Not because he wants to overwork her, but because he wants her to get rid of her misdeeds. (I came up with this headcanon before CIU came out. So I didn't know about the whole misdeeds are decided by you thing.)

River speeds him up to date about the world. Even though he knows plenty since he has been a ghost for a long time, there are things which he doesn't have knowledge about (He is a boomer)

Boss & Eugene:-

The best father-son duo.

Boss has trained Eugene to use his fan.

Boss and everyone in the office has attended Eugene's graduation day.

Eugene has definitely asked Boss (and Joan) for help in history.

Boss watched over Eugene for a while after the teen became an official member of the office.

Eugene would come to Boss for advice.

After a while of being in the office, Eugene cracked his first dark joke and Boss laughed, hard. Everyone was shooketh and thought 'Oh damn. World is definitely gonna end today.'

Boss & Joan:-

Boss views Joan as a mother figure. (Now we know the real reason being his mom was hot garbage)

Joan would share stories about her days.

Boss learnt how to knit from her. She nagged at him for not having a life outside the office and he had no idea what to do besides stopping monsters. So she taught him how to knit.

They have visited her children together. She has even remarked how Boss felt like 'one of her own'.

Boss relies on her from time to time when it comes to making plans. Since she has experience in the military and war.

He sometimes asks her for advice.

She ensures he doesn't overwork himself.

Joan has taught him how to use her gun.

Boss & Hayden:-

After Hayden met Eugene, the kid became even more curious about school. So, Boss took him to a small one at night. He smiled fondly as Hayden swung on the swings and wrote on the board with chalk.

Boss would tell stories about kings and queens.

Other than Eugene, Hayden is the only one who Boss compliments openly.

Boss has sung to hayden.

He visits Hayden's parents with Hayden. There will be times where the kid cries and Boss holds him.

He has taught Hayden a few tricks about his fan. Not too much though.

He takes Hayden to the park to have fun in the kid's play area every weekday in the night. Less chances of running into mortals.

Boss would play with the cats Hayden befriends. He is particularly close with one kitten which he nicknamed '어린이' (Pronunciation eolin-i) which translates to little one in korean.

He takes Hayden to cat cafes.

Boss and Everyone:-

Movie nights. At first, Boss objected but he eventually did join them.

He remembers everyone's birthday. And tries celebrating it too.

Overprotective over every single one of them.

Once Eugene introduced them to monopoly, their family nearly tore apart. With Hayden pointing out the unfairness of the game, Boss quietly planning what places to buy, River chaotically buying all of them to piss him off and Joan trying to control her kids while trying to not land in Jail for the umpteenth time.

UNO was even worse. Boss would keep the best cards for last, River would try to trick her way to victory, Joan grumbling about how the game doesn't have proper rules and Hayden just winning without even trying.

Eugene is the poor spectator for both games.

If you think Wii is something they can play peacefully, YOU ARE DEAD WRONG. Let's just say, the last time they played it, the TV had a controller in just stabbed in the middle.

[hoe4destiel]

Who Pissed In Your Lucky Charms?

Word count: 1.1k 

Overall Warnings: John being a neglectant POS dad, Strong language, graphic descriptions of violence, graphic descriptions of injuries, eventual smut.

Chapter Warnings: Strong language, mentions of violence, if you squint some of it can be read as homophobic, descriptions of injuries, and John being a neglectant POS dad.

Pairings, Dean Winchester x Fem!reader, Sam Winchester x Platonic!Reader, slight Sam Winchester x Jess (Mentioned) And John being a sad, lonely, dick wad that can’t get any.

Plot summary: Exhibit A of How Dean Winchester Was Royally Fucked Up By John Winchester.

A/N: I co-wrote the most part of this with @hoe-for-fictional-men, and she posted it on her blog as well!

My world ended on Dean Winchester's 17th birthday. See, instead of having a normal birthday, he went on his first solo hunt. On January 24, the day after my own birthday, his dad told him that it was time, that he was old enough, and mature enough to do it without him there.      

That was bull. 

I knew that.

Dean knew that, but he still went. 

When he came back, he was a different person. His green eyes no longer sparkled when he heard a classic rock song, and his smile that was once brighter than the sun became a shadow of its former self.

The only time he seemed like his old self was when he was with Sammy. I think that he reminds Dean of when he was that naive. When Sam was younger, Dean would take care of him while their dad went to hunt Yellow Eyes. 

I think that Dean spent more time raising Sam than John ever did. I remember one time, Sammy wanted a few books, but John was too busy to notice or remember.

 That night, Dean snuck out, and went to a pool hall. He played all night so that he could have enough money to buy those three books. 

The next morning, everyone was startled awake at 6:00 by a loud scream from Saean, Dad, and I came sprinting, expecting some form of monster to be attacking.  John didn’t give an fuck, and stayed in bed. Obviously sleep is more important than his son possibly being in danger.

Instead of a threat, there was a stack of books, sitting on the table, encased in Scooby Doo wrapping paper.

I wonder what that was like for him, having that pressure on him 24/7. I know what he told me, and I know what it was like when my Dad went to help Bobby and I had to take care of my siblings. 

Sometimes, my dad would have us stay with Dean and Sammy while helping John hunt Yellow eyes.  Then I could see what the life of a hunter’s boy was really like. 

On paper it sounds like one huge adventure, where it’s nothin’ but a good time,and you never know where you will wake up. But in reality it was the worst torture that you could condemn a child to.

Where each night was a new motel bed, and your only true home was a 1967 Chevy Impala. Never knowing if your family would come back, or if they would be on the 12:00 news. 

I always thought that hunters were noble people that could do no wrong, but on January 17, I was proved wrong. 

I thought that there was another reason for Dean going on his first hunt on his own, and I was right. 

⚡Flashback⚡

See, tonight John was lazy. He left his journal out, and I was gonna be nice and put it by his bed, so he wouldn’t lose it. But, when I was walking, I didn’t have a very good grip on the leather, and it slipped.

John has a lot of bookmarks, but he had today marked with a thick envelope. When I dropped it, it opened.

I couldn’t help it, and started to read. 

Dean turns seventeen today. We went shooting. Then I sent him out on his first hunt. I've let him take the lead before, but I was always there to back him up. This time he’s on his own. Partly it’s a test, and partly I wanted to spend some time with sammy. Should be no problem for dean. Ghosts of two nuns haunting st. Stephens Indian mission in riverton, wyoming. Simple salt-and-burn mission. Nuns in love with each other, then were discovered. Killed themselves. We scoped the situation out, figured that something must be left behind thats now a focus for the haunting. Bible, rosary beads, some small article that’s hidden somewhere in their room. I figured that dean would be fine, but I still stayed close with sammy.

That worthless little-! How could he? I understand wanting to spend more time with your other child, and yes, that's good. BUT NOT ON HIS BIRTHDAY!!!! 

Is it a good thing that he is trusted to go on hunts by himself? Yes. Is it a good thing to have to go kill dead people on his birthday, on his own for the first time, SO THAT YOU CAN SPEND MORE TIME WITH YOUR OTHER SON??? Not OK.

I power walked over to where John's bed was and said, “WAKE THE FUCKITY UPPITY SWEETHEART!” 

He bolted upright, a silver blade in one hand, a gun loaded with witch killing bullets in the other. 

John spotted me and lowered the weapons, letting out a sigh of relief. “Jesus Christ kid, are you trying to give me a heart attack? Holy shit.” 

He looked at my face and said, “Damn, who pissed in your lucky charms?”

Glaring at him, I made an attempt to lower my voice so that I wouldn’t wake Sam up,“Why in the name of Hell would you do that shit to Dean? Today of all days?” 

He looked like a kid that got caught stealing a cookie, but still tried to play dumb. 

“What are ya talkin’ about? Is Dean OK?” 

ARE YOU- Stopping myself from screaming at him, I whisper hissed, “John Eric Winchester, do NOT pretend like you don’t know exactly what you did.” 

If looks could kill, we would both be dead.

John just seemed to notice his journal open in my hand. “Why do you have that?” It was as if he thought that I had stolen it from his pocket when his back was turned.

“Maybe because you left it out??? AND I DIDN’T WANT IT LEFT BEHIND BECAUSE I KNOW HOW MUCH IT MEANS TO YOU??” At this point we were both quietly screaming at each other.

With that, Sammy yelled from the other room, “Dean’s back!”

Giving John one last glare, I turned on my heel to go check on Dean.

As I walked into the living room area, my breath caught in my throat, and my heart stopped beating for a full second. 

Dean was being held up by Sam, barely holding on to consciousness. Every visible inch of him was covered in blood, bruises, and grime. Dean gave me a half-hearted smile, then winced from pain.

“What the hell happened?” I asked while rushing to his side. There was a shallow slash across his left cheekbone, and a dark purple bruise on his jawline. His head lolled to one side, passing out on Sam's shoulder. “Shit! ”

[theverumproject]

Writer Questionnaire!

Thanks for the tag @the-letterbox-archives

How long have you had your writing tumblr/writeblr? A fast and loose estimate is fine!

I think I've been here for about three months now.

What led you to create it?

I uploaded my first book, Verum I: The Awakening on AO3, Wattpad and Inkitt earlier this year. Sadly (though not surprising) it didn't do well, still doesn't. So I figured Tumblr might be the best place to advertise it. One of my mutuals read it! 

What's your favourite thing about the writeblr community?

Some of the tag games are really fun!

What's one thing you’d like your mutuals to know about you?

I have never learned how to make friends as a child. I'm always trying to make friends, to interact with people (irl and internet), but I just can't figure out how to do it. I always see other people becoming friends, happy to see/hear from each other. I try to have that too, I've been trying my entire life, but it just doesn't work. So please just interact with me. Tell me anything about you, about what you love, about what bothers you! I'm just happy to listen and will be very glad that somebody is talking directly to me. Please talk with me. I'm genuinely getting worried about my mental health.

Is there anything you’d like to see more of on your dash?

I don't browse all that much here, but I'm always happy to see some writer memes on my dashboard.

Which wips or writing projects are you noodling about, lately?

Noodling is a new word to me. I hope I understood this question right

My only WIP is Verum II: The Robotic Era. I think about it all the time. Having fun with my characters, doing absolutely non-canonical shit with them, but also thinking about the plot and world building. 

How long have you been working on them?

I've been working on TRE since the first or second of April 2024. That's when I began writing the first part.

Do you remember what inspired them/what got you started?

Verum was entirely inspired by science. I'm a nerd.

How much time, in your best estimation, do you spend thinking about them?

Everyday, all the time, whenever something else isn't occupying my mind. 

When someone asks the dreaded, “what do you write about,” question, what do you usually say?

I say “Science Fiction”, if they wanna know a little more I continue with something like “It's about robots and aliens and sometimes they go on missions to save robots, because they are trapped”. I always sound like I have no idea what my story is about, because I can't explain that it's filled with violence, gore and death. Can't mention that in front of family, bosses and especially not in front of therapists, lol.

Name any characters you created. side characters, protagonists, antagonists, characters who’ve never been written, the first original abomination you ever pulled from your ass; whomever you’d like!

Next to Luce, there were supposed to be two other female main characters. Verum was originally supposed to be Sci Fi Fantasy, but I took all fantasy elements out.

Kerlith: She is a demon from hell and one of many protectors of humanity. In the school project (the thing that started this whole project), she arrived on earth with a fleet of ghost pirates to join the main group.

I do have another idea for a book in which she could appear. It’s about angels trying to destroy humanity, but the robots they (humanity) built eons ago protect them without their knowledge. They live in a simulated reality, where everything is perfect. The demons would be allied with the robots. 

Lilian: She is the other scrapped main character. She's got spiritual superpowers and is friends with monsters. They would try to help humanity.

Now some characters that ARE gonna appear in the Verum series.

Ship AI: There's gonna be a fourth lover for the three lovey doveys that are Luce, Bluctro and Dethra. He doesn't have a name yet, but he's gonna be the AI of the big ass spaceship of Luce, Dethra and Bluctro. He's not gonna appear for a long time though.

Alien fish lady: She's gonna be the girlfriend of a human woman. Because why does my lesbian coded ass not have lesbians in the story, huh?

Isdod: Said human lady's placeholder name is Isdod. She slaughtered a bunch of Tapzians (enemy alien species) after she got abducted. Then she became a famous biologist.

There are more, but that's enough for now.

Who's the most unhinged?

Dethra. It's absolutely Dethra. The nice killer robot who loves to slaughter the bad guys.

Who comes the most naturally for you to write?

Hell Idk. Writing different personalities is difficult for me.

Do you ever cringe at them?

I cringe at all of them, but especially at myself.

How much control do you feel you have over your characters? do they ever “write themselves,” refuse to cooperate, or do things you didn’t expect? To what degree? Are some less cooperative than others?

They do seem to do what they want to do sometimes. Bluctro is a great example! He was meant to be killed off, but then he said nuh uh and joined the mains. Fucking asshole.

Do you enjoy people asking questions about your characters? and do you have a preferred means of receiving said questions? for example, as asks, as replies, as reblogs, as tag notes, as comments on ao3, etc.

Pleaaaaaseeeee I looove questions!!!! But I never get any, so just pleaaaaaseeeee ask away! I don't care where you do it.

What makes you want to follow another writeblr account? Do you follow ‘em as you see ‘em, or take time scoping out the blog to make sure you align with its content? Do you follow based on wips, or vibes?

I only follow writer blogs. So yes, I do check out the blog for a moment.

What makes you decide against following?

If it's not a writer blog, I won't follow. 

Do you interact with non-mutuals often?

I don't care who I interact with. Why wouldn't I want to interact with non-mutuals too?

Do your mutuals’ characters occupy space in your noodle?

I personally don't have a noodle in which I put other's characters, but I certainly could. Though noodles are rather small and don't have a big hole, so the character would have to be even smaller! I'd gladly hang a filled noodle up on my wall though.

…For what purpose does one put characters into noodles?

Open tag!