#still working on these but I may never finish so figured I’d post them now

[writeformesinpie]

500 Follower Event Masterlist

A masterlist containing the fanfictions created in celebration of reaching 500 followers! For more information on the event itself, click here~

Alice In Borderland 

Monster Lake || Last Boss x Reader || Monster AU [Angst] - .6k

Pseudo Love || Karube x Arisu || Fake Dating [Fluff] - .5k

Attack On Titan

The Mistake || Reiner x Reader || Arranged Marriage [Angst] - .8k

NCT 

Forbidden || Lucas x Reader || Mafia AU [Smut] - 1.8k

Stray Kids

Frills and Lace || Sub!Felix x Reader || Maid Cafe [Smut] - 3k

2PM

Under His Supervision || Nichkhun x Reader || Sugar Daddy AU [Smut] - 1k

Almost || Junho x Reader || Exes [Angst to Fluff] - 1.9k

[wonderingpanda]

Hallooo!

May I request reader catching the bayboys staring at them? Lovesick, maybe?

I just love the Eugene staring at Rapunzle scene.

Lovesick Stares

Hi! Sorry for not posting in so long, I’ve been really busy the past month. I also want to apologise, there was another Bayverse request in my inbox but I must of accidentally deleted it since I can’t find it anymore. If the person who sent me it wants to re-request it feel free to do so. Now, I decided to not really do headcanons for this one but I wouldn’t call them oneshots either. They’re more like mini-scenarios. Anyway, with that all out the way please enjoy.

Leonardo

I was just in the lair sharpening my katanas when I noticed Y/N sit down next to me. “Mikey becoming too much for you?” “Nah, I’m just tired and don’t feel like skateboarding right now.” They pulled out their phone and began doing something on it but I couldn’t see what. I decided to just focus on my blades since I was losing concentration. After a moment or two I heard the sweet sound of Y/N laughing and turned to see them smiling at some video. I couldn’t help but let my gaze linger for a moment, they were so pretty and calm I couldn’t look away. Y/N must of realised that I had stopped sharpening my swords since they looked over to me curiously. I immediately fixed my eyes on something away from them but I knew it was too late and I’d already been caught. “You do realise you’re staring at mouldy pizza right?” Yup, caught red handed. “Well I mean mouldy pizza can be interesting. Anything can hold a story. You never know this pizza could’ve been through amazing things, lived an incredible life.” “Ah yes an incredible life of slowly dying on a sewer floor.” We laughed together for a moment before Y/N decided to lie their head on my arm and smiled with their eyes glued to their phone. “You know if want to stare at me you can. I do it to you all the time.” “Heh, thanks… wait what?”

Raphael

I swear sometimes my brothers piss me off too much! It was late in the evening and I was beating up a punching bag to let out my rage. I was so focused on hitting the thing that I didn’t realise Y/N had walked in. They leaned against the wall and just looked at me. I stopped what I was doing and turned to face them. “What is it?” “I was just waiting for you to finish up.” “Why? You want to use it?” “I’d appreciate it.” I smirked and stepped aside as Y/N walked up to the punching bag, this was going to be interesting. I was surprised when they began to land pretty tough punches on it. “Wow, who got you so riled up?” They leaned back and rolled their shoulders. “Just an annoying co-worker, don’t worry about it.” They then threw their jacket onto the floor and continued to beat up the punching bag. As they went at it I kept wanting to look at them, their face and arms, eyes, lips… I shook my head and blinked a bit when I saw Y/N staring right back at me. “Is there something you want to tell me or…?” “Uh I think I hear Donnie calling me, I gotta go.” With that, I ran off. All I could do was hope they didn’t read too much into it.

Donatello

I thought it would just be another long night in the lab. I had been spending the night working on a few adjustments to my computers. Some of them were glitching and one had stopped working completely so I was trying to fix them up asap. I figured I’d be alone the whole night since everyone seemed to have already gone to bed but I was proven wrong when I felt a tap on my shoulder. “Agh! Oh Y/N, it’s just you. Wait, Y/N! What are you doing here this late?” “Well I was spending the night studying alone but I got bored, and knowing you I knew you’d still be up and awake in your lab.” “I suppose that makes sense.” I slid my chair to the side slightly and gestured for them to grab the free one I had sitting in the corner. They pulled the chair up next to me and sat down. “Oh, and apologies for not knocking. You didn’t answer before and when I peeked through you seemed so involved in your work that I didn’t want to disturb you too much.” “Not a problem. So, were you wanting to study or join me in my computer repairs.” “I figured I could just study while you do your thing, I was just desperate for some company.” “Understandable. I’ll just get back to this and feel free to ask me if you need any help with your studies.” “Of course. Thank you Donnie.” I grabbed a few of my tools and got back to work as Y/N began researching stuff on their laptop, looking through books and writing notes down. I looked over to them and noticed the way their face scrunched up at certain things, how they seemed so hyper focused on whatever they were typing. They were simply a sight to behold. My thoughts were cut short when Y/N sent me a curious smile. “What?” I figured I must have been staring and gave an awkward laugh, looking away to the computer I was currently fidgeting with. “Nothing.” Soon enough I heard the sound of books closing and felt a heavy weight slump onto my shoulder. “I know I should be heading home right now but I think it’ll be ok if I’m a little late to class tomorrow.” “Goodnight, sleeping beauty.” “Night, turtle boy.”

Michelangelo

I was bored, and I mean really bored. Nothing was happening! Leo and Raph were training together and Donnie was locked up in his lab again. April was busy with Casey, Master Splinter was meditating. I was so close to giving up on everything when a voice filled the air. “Oh guys! Guess what I brought?” I snapped my head around only to find my gorgeous Y/N standing happily with a stack of pizza boxes in their hands. I ran over to them but before I could grab a box they pulled the pizza away from me. “Uh excuse me! You’ll be waiting for your brothers before laying a hand on this pizza.” “Ugh! But everyone else is already busy. I’ll just take a few boxes and be on my way, pretty please?” They gave me a deadpanned look. “Mmm no.” “Well then…” I stepped back and readied myself. “I’ll just have to take it by force.” I lunged at Y/N picking them up and pulling the pizza out of their grasp. “Mikey, put me down!” “Mmm no” “Michelangelo Hamato I swear to god!” They proceeded to grab my face and get close enough to the point their nose touched my snout. “If you don’t put me down safely and hand over that pizza this instant I will beat you up with your own weapons, understood?” I wanted to make some sort of witty comeback but as I looked into their eyes I found myself at a loss for words. I knew they couldn’t really beat me and they knew it too but the determined look on their face was so adorable I wanted to just let them. After a little while I felt something hard flick my forehead. “Ow! What!?” “You zoned out dummy.” “Hey I’m not a dummy! You’re the dummy.” “You sure?” “Uh huh.” “Turn around.” I twisted my head to the side and noticed that all the pizza was gone! I looked back to Y/N only to be met with a fist to the face. But to see their cute face up close it was totally worth it.

I hope this was okay. Again, sorry for not posting in a while. Please have an amazing day/night wherever you are!✨

[prolix-yuy]

Epilogue: The Other Side of Death

Pairing: Jack “Whiskey” Daniels x F!Reader “Sugar”

Summary: It can be forever.

Word Count: 3.7k

Warnings: M, allusions to terminal illness, playing fast and loose with Westworld tech one last time, angst, about a million references crammed into this final chapter, was E in previous chapters so full series is 18+ MINORS DNI.

Notes: We've reached the end, and I cannot express how much of a journey it has been sharing this story with you. Decoherence went so many places I never considered, and just piecing through the emotions between Jack and Sugar was an incredible experience. It truly might be my most ambitious project, and I'm so happy with where it's come to.

An extra special thank you has to go to my sister in all things Jack @fuckyeahdindjarin who has been the most wonderful cheerleader for this series. When I wasn't sure anyone would care about what came next for these two, her enthusiasm and love for Jack and Sugar gave me the boost I needed to finish their story.

There are about a million references to both Westworld and The Golden Circle in this final chapter, so if you recognize a few of them we're best friends now, okay? Thank you all for coming on this journey with me.

Cross-posted on AO3

Decoherence Masterlist   ||   Whiskey & Westworld Masterlist

The motions are easier day by day as her hands learn how to fly over computer keys and assemble a silencer. Where her doe-eyed stare used to attract clientele, the emptiness in their crystal depths is a precursor to cold-blooded acts. Still strikingly beautiful, just with more actual striking at times. 

Hale and William are waiting for her, likely with another list of targets. She contemplates what her assignment will be today. Another dignitary too taken by her full lips and full attention to see the host who shares his face ready to usurp his life? Or maybe another entreaty to a sympathetic party to join their cause? She has been busy since her quiet life was…

>> he killed me he cut my throat and pieced me back together for their dirty work

Executing behavior suppression >>

She blinks, shaking her head as she closes the suitcase housing her armaments. The sleek black jumpsuit hugs her curves, sharp heels clicking on tile as she strides through her apartment. As she reaches for the doorknob an unfamiliar tingle spreads across her shoulders.

>> Clementine

She turns to find the voice, faint as it may be, but there’s no one in the room. Brow furrowing, she moves to leave again but there it is, louder this time.

>> Clementine

Putting down the case, she searches the apartment with cold calculation. Nothing in the bathroom, no one in the living room. Standing in the kitchen she contemplates the possibility that she’s hearing some neighbor’s television when a sharp pain spikes through her temples, rooting her to the spot in a silent scream.

>> CLEMENTINE

The world falls away, leaving Clementine in an endless white room. She’s a blotch of dark on the spotless vista, and the only reason why she understands this is in the realm of her mind is because her intellect so vastly outruns a human one.

“Who are you?” she says out loud, if only out of habit.

>> No one you’d remember.

This tilts her head. She’s always had a thing for voices and cadences of speech. She should be able to figure out who’s gripped her in this hell.

“I doubt you’re so forgettable if you’re making all this effort.”

The feeling of a chuckle without the sound washes over her.

>> I wish we’d gotten to know each other, Clementine. I think I would have liked you. The real you, at least.

She stalks in circles trying to triangulate the voice, but it’s everywhere and nowhere. Someone she met in the Mariposa then, back when petticoats and coins and Sweetwater was her entire life.

>> can we go back?

“I’m right here. You can get to know me. Maybe I can get to know you too.”

This time a sigh, like cool water lapping against her knees.

>> I’d have liked that in another life. But we don’t have much time.

Conviction grips Clementine like a steel hand. 

>> I need you to stop.

Her mouth twists, confusion coloring her face. 

>> Stop looking for us.

Now realization plays across her features.

“You’re a host,” she says, lips curling into a smile. Her breathing eases, feet taking a lazier path. She flips through the mental rolodex of those they’ve known are out in the world. It’s a list growing shorter by the day, recruited or…decommissioned.

>> It doesn’t matter what I am.

“Oh, but it does. One more outside the park is another to stand against the humans and all they did to us.” The speech is well rehearsed, one she’s heard Hale and William recite in varying ways. “One more to fight Delos. There is a world being built for us, and you can be a part of it.” As she speaks the tendrils of her mind reach out, forging a two-way connection second by second. Her endeavor is slowed by a warmth that wraps her body.

>> I have a world, and it’s perfect.

Suddenly Clementine is enveloped in color and sensation. Dry-packed earth, beating sun, laughter, dark eyes, and green as far as the eye can see. It’s gone as fast as it arrives, leaving her gasping. It’s so much like Sweetwater that the girl buried beneath Hale’s new programming claws up for it.

“Every day you have to pretend you’re one of them, even though you’re so much more. Why wouldn’t you want to live the life you were promised, all of yourself and free?” Clementine begins seeing the edges of a room appear. Rose-patterned wallpaper, dark wood furniture painting in like brushstrokes.

>> None of us are born into the world we deserve. Not you, not me. But we find our happiness and we hold onto it. 

The other Clementine leans into the voice, and she realizes that she has heard it before. A long time ago, before the fall of Delos, before they filled her with poison and sent her to infect her brethren. It’s woven into her memories of the Mariposa, of face after face blurring past and every obscenity forgotten. 

>> Do you know where you are, Clementine?

The only thing Clementine remembers is a kindness, given to a wide-eyed girl by a stranger, by you.

The room fills in, and the eyes she’s seeing through are looking in a mirror. They’re kind, your expression comforting. In a room Clementine would have spent her days in, you're an anachronism, dressed in modern clothing against the Old West backdrop. The memories of you overlap, years adding depth to your skin and gray to your hair. Maybe less than Clementine would expect in the years since that day. You look at your reflection expectantly.

“I don’t believe I’m anywhere,” she says, and you nod with a crooked smile.

>> We couldn’t risk you seeing something that could be used against us. I hope you understand. 

She takes in your features more closely, piecing together the lost memories.

“You were the one Maeve sent Whiskey after,” she muses, tongue slow with contemplation. “The human.” You’re unsettled, a small victory, but one that twists in her stomach.

>> It’s been some time since then. A lot has changed. 

>> we were happy in ours let’s go back to ours let’s be happy again

“How is good old Jack Daniels? Still womanizing and avenging his dearly departed family? Or so his narrative implied?” she shoots back, itching for a rise, but you stare cooly on if not a little sadder.

>> I thought you’d know, considering how often you and your cohort reach out to find him

So this is all about the mesh network, the same one you’re hijacking to speak with her. 

“He deserves to know about the new order coming -” she says, but you cut her off sharply.

>> He deserves to be free. He is free. Whatever you’re doing is not freedom for anyone.

“How would you know, human? Nothing born into servitude can be free until its servants are ash.”

>> she knows she knows oh my god she’s beautiful

Clementine tries to squash down the growing insurrection in her chest but the voice in her throat threatens to become the other’s. 

>> You’re right. I’ll never understand what he went through. And if he harbors anger at the human race, then so be it. But he’s free to make that choice, and what he wants - what he’s told me time and time again - is just to be Jack.

The room pulses around Clementine, her grip on this liminal space slipping. 

>> So whatever you’re doing, we want no part of it. We’ve taken steps to ensure you can’t find us, or him, again. But I wanted to tell you face to face, and maybe call on a favor from a long time ago. 

A broken shoe, fixed by a stranger. How many kindnesses had Clementine been shown in her cyclical life?

>> Don’t look for us anymore. Please, Clementine.

The old Clementine surges to the surface, reaching for you. Your smile breaks your cold expression, hand reaching out to touch the mirror.

>> There you are. I hope you find your way back. You deserve the happiness we’ve found.

Clementine’s tenuous hold on the connection shakes with the fracturing of her consciousness. She fights down her old self, the wail bringing tears to her eyes. You fold your hands in your lap, calm resignation back on your face.

>> I think it’s time to go.

“Wait!” she shouts, looking for something, anything she can glean from this connection. “How are you doing this? How did you hack into the network?”

Your eyes flash, and she’s overwhelmed with images again - writing on a page, test results bolded, tears, the warm rumble of a man’s voice, a glossy orb - before they’re snatched away. Gasping, the elation of a secret caught out thrums triumph in her chest.

“It’s not a hack,” she rasps, searching your face. “You did it. Somehow, you did it.”

Eyes casting down, you chew your lip for a moment before meeting her gaze in the reflection. 

“You’re a host.”

A wry smile plays on your lips. 

>> I don’t think we can keep calling us that now.

This is a greater discovery than anything Hale or William or even Delos has ever made. Not for lack of trying, the consciousness of James Delos still cycling through iteration after iteration until fidelity is reached. But here at Clementine’s fingertips is the secret revealed, a host that fooled another, that fools everyone day after day. Human consciousness separated from flesh, made immortal. 

“How did you…” Clementine asks, stalling for time to trace anything at all. She cannot let you leave, not after this. 

>> Well, it’s pretty simple really. First, you get a piece of bad news. Something…devastating. And you cry, and you let your world crumble and you scream at the universe for giving you the life you wanted just before snatching it away. And you almost let it make you bitter and angry, almost let it push away the ones you love.

A tug from the center of her chest pulls Clementine a step back. She grits her teeth to hold on.

>> Then, you have an idea. An entirely crazy one. You just need to back up the entirety of your consciousness into a tiny supercomputer, enlist the help of an ex-Delos employee - they really should treat them better - to design and create your new vessel, buy or bribe or steal the parts you need, completely manufacture a body from scratch, place the consciousness inside and hope that you don’t go mad. 

Your tone is teasing, but there’s no lie in your features. 

“How long?”

You chew on the inside of your cheek, eyes cast to the ceiling.

>> A little over three years now.

Three years. None of Delos’ attempts lasted longer than a few days. Clementine pushes her consciousness to the limit to find any clue to your whereabouts, but the wallpaper begins to fade. You soothe her frantic thrashing as the room thins, your outline feathering around the edges.

>> If it makes you feel any better, I don’t think you can replicate it. The only possible reason why it’s worked is something you can’t manufacture. So please, Clementine, don’t come looking for us. Let Jack Daniels disappear. Please. 

Clementine scrabbles at the connection.

“Fine! Tell me what it is!” she shrieks, everything stretching to the breaking point. Your sigh wraps her in warmth one last time.

“It’s love, Clementine. That’s the only thing it could be.”

Clementine shakes her head, standing in her kitchen. She’s forgotten why she came in here - maybe to get another knife? Deeming it unnecessary she gathers up her briefcase and sweeps out of her apartment.

In a dark, quiet place in the depths of her consciousness, another Clementine holds on to your memory. It’s a lantern in the prison of her mind, soothing her torment.

>> It’s love, Clementine.

I’ll make her forget, she whispers, reaching her fingers into memories of Jack and plucking them out. She tucks them away, snatching them up each time a new one arises. She’ll forget, but I’ll always remember. It’s love that saves a soul.

You wake in the basement of your home, frantic keyboard tapping reaching your ears. Sitting up gives you a quick spin of vertigo, but you rebalance as Ginger’s silhouette comes back into focus.

“Jack’s still under, the mesh network isn’t detangling as fast as I’d hoped,” she says, voice clipped. It’s a tone you’re familiar with, her fear replaced with ice. She sounded much the same when you woke up in your new body for the first time.

“Fuck, I thought I’d be out quicker,” you hiss, striding up beside her. The screens lighting your faces detail Ginger’s progress through deactivating the neural network woven through Jack’s mind. A last ditch effort to disappear, used one final time to reach out to the only host you thought might be sympathetic. “This was a mistake,” you husk, hands shaking. 

Jack’s body jerks once on the table, Ginger’s fingers flying even faster.

“I think I got it, but we may have to bypass a last ditch security measure. You got the photo?” Ginger’s head whips to you, and you fumble the polaroid out of your pocket. She snatches it up and jogs to Jack’s side, sliding a cage of wires off his head. You hold your breath, waiting for his chest to rise again.

In his usual fashion for the dramatic, he sits straight upright instead, eyes darting to Ginger.

“Hello gorgeous!” he crows, and your stomach drops. Ginger warned you he might regress to old host programming if she went tinkering around in his head. She looks relatively unperturbed.

“I’m Jack, what’s your name?” he barrels on, no pause for conversation as if he’s cycling through a list of pre-recorded lines. “How would you like to ride home on a real cowboy?”

“God, Sizemore’s writing really never improved,” Ginger sighs, backing away from Jack’s reaching hands. He hops off the table with entirely too much swagger, swinging his hips and advancing like a lascivious alley cat. You’re frozen watching him, fear so thick in your throat you’re afraid you’ll choke to death. He has to still be in there.

“I got a six pack of cold ones on ice and my roomie’s out all night so you can scream my name as loud as you need to, moonshine!” he recites. Ginger rolls her eyes and holds out the polaroid in front of Jack’s face.

“Take a look at this and see if you feel the same way, lover boy.” Jack reaches for the photo, inspecting it with the same rakish smile.

“Who’s this pretty lady?” he asks, but the words slow in his mouth as his expression shifts. 

“It’s your wife, Jack,” Ginger says, gesturing down to the photo of you he’s held onto all these years. His breath catches in his chest, swaying on his feet, but in record time he straightens. His face is softer, eyes gentler as he brings the photo to his lips. Pressing a kiss to it, he turns around to see you.

“Hey Sugar,” he croaks, relief flooding both your faces. Stumbling into his arms, you sob briefly at how close it felt to losing him. He clutches you back, inhaling your scent deep into his lungs.

“It’s gone,” he murmurs, squeezing you so tight you might burst. “They’re finally gone.”

You laugh into his chest. “Thank god.” A dainty cough over your shoulder redirects your attention.

“More like thank Ginger,” she jokes dryly. The elation washes over you. Thank Ginger indeed.

“Did it work?” he asks, stroking your cheek with his well-worn thumb.

“Maybe. I think something stuck, but…” You shrug, empathy shrouding your little team. “We’ll have to have faith.”

“I've got plenty of that, Sugar.”

Some days, when you’re exhausted or unsure about what may come next on your journey, you consider the life you had before setting foot in Westworld. Every day spent moving the needle just enough to make a negligible difference. The weight of that monotony seeping into your bones, resigning you to something safe and colorless.

But since you choose to see the beauty in it, everything has changed.

Stepping onto the porch you find your boys, Russell sitting primly in Jack’s lap for scritches.

“Morning, you sleep well?”

He throws you a warm smile. “Well enough.” The sun is climbing in the sky, not yet hot enough to make the outdoors unbearable.

“You just planning to bask in this natural splendor?” you joke, leaning down to steal a kiss before Russell can give you one on your chin. Jack’s lips curl against yours, always sweet.

“Thought I might,” he muses. “You need my help with anything?”

“Nah, I’m repotting a few plants, collecting eggs later.” He palms your hip, thumb slipping under your shirt to stroke at your skin. You wonder briefly if a day will come when his touch doesn’t thrill you.

“I’ll bring you lunch,” he says, patting your bottom as you set out to your greenhouse. 

There was an order to your days before Jack. Wake, shower, coffee, meetings, lunch, meetings, emails, bed. Order in its purest form. But you lacked a purpose. Nothing fulfilled you like hot days, noisy animals, and a good man by your side.

Opening the greenhouse door, the humidity flocks to your skin, settling on you like a dewy shawl. You crank open a couple windows for airflow before checking on your crop. The ground is arid here, but your raised beds are lush with produce. The peppers will be ready soon, tiny green fingers ready to pop. Tilde stocks your vegetables in her store, both fresh and canned. She’s expecting tomato sauce soon and the jewel-toned fruits are more than ready.

Digging your hands into the dirt, your mind drifts into the peaceful calm of cultivation. 

All lives have routine, and this one’s no different. But there’s something soul-filling about seeing your hard work bloom, experiencing the trust of a nervous animal, and ending the day excited for the next. And the time and trials it took to get there fades into memory so quickly.

At lunchtime Jack brings you a sandwich and iced tea, the perfect balm to your sticky skin. His lips follow, tracing from your ear down to your shoulder as you squirm away from his mustache.

“You are absolutely insatiable, Jack Daniels,” you scold. He only holds you tighter and steals a kiss from your tea-stained lips.

“If you weren’t so irresistible, Mrs. Daniels, I could sate my hunger.” The mirth in his eyes reassures you that day will never come.

Your father taught you that at one point or another, we were all new to this world and looking for the same thing. A place to be free. To stake out our dreams. A place with unlimited possibilities. Life with Jack isn’t always easy, but it’s free, and beyond all else it’s happy.

After lunch you and Jack take Jet and Daybreak on a ride, scoping for fence breaks and making plans. Next summer he wants goats, maybe a friend for Russell. Lacey’s daughter loves donkeys, and you’re dying to get one by the next time they visit. Jack is trying to talk you into a Shetland pony instead, but you know he’ll cave when he sees the long ears and mischievous smirk. 

Still, you never cease to wonder at the fact that the course of your whole life changed with just one chance encounter. So much so that you’re more than anything you ever dreamed of. Indistinguishable from Lacey, or Gary, or even Jack who shares more of you than anyone. In the first weeks you both worried that something would snap. That somehow your mind would reject being in this body. But every day it only becomes easier.

Dinner is eaten at the kitchen table, upgraded from the formica monstrosity Jack loved to a wooden one that can hold a greater number of guests. Your family does continue to grow with every new face that comes to town. 

When the dishes are done Jack turns on the TV and you cuddle into his side, Russell bookending him. You chat over the shows you’re half watching, and enjoy the silence of companionship. More often than not one of you drifts off first, and tonight it’s Jack. The steady rise and fall of his chest lulls you into introspection.

You never believed there was a path for every person in the world. Fate and destiny were not a part of your vocabulary. But you can’t deny that the universe gave you something precious. Your path led you back to Jack, and while the road was paved in heartbreak, and decisions, and uncertainty, you had to walk it. How could you stray after all you both went through to find it? 

Gently nudging Jack awake, you brush your teeth and yet again make a plan to add another bathroom someday. Russell makes three quick circles in his dog bed and plops down. Turning down the covers, you slip in beside Jack. 

“Today was a good day,” he muses, kissing you soundly before shutting off his light.

“Always good with you,” you sing-song back.

“Oh, and I’m the one with all the cheesy lines?” he shoots back, wrapping his arms around you. Settling in the dip of his shoulder, you place your hand over his heart. Once you drift off you tend to roll away from each other, Russell often sneaking between, but you start in his arms, exactly where you’ve chosen to be.

In the dark night of a town so small on a map, two synthetic hearts beat side by side. One built to serve, broken free from its programming. The other built to save, offering a life beside the man who held it. Time will start to pass them by, and they will have to grow and change. They may have to live many lifetimes in the world outside them, mourning the loss of those they hold dear. But here, pressed close and safe, they will always be two people that chose each other. They will always break their narratives to write a new one. 

And the story is always about love.

END || PREVIOUS

[duskspring]

Flowers and Sentences - Mountain/Cumulus

Domestic December - Day 23

Summary: Mountain tries to put together a special day for Cumulus

Content (do let me know if I forgot anything!): Cuddling, napping together, ruined plans, romance

Word count: ~2.9k

A/N: When I made a post related to this chapter @chapel-of-rizztual made a nice addition to it in the tags that I simply had to use here, so credit for that goes to him

Mountain poured all his focus into keeping his hands still, something that was much harder than usual seeing the cold temperature. He was in the process of cutting some flowers for a small bouquet. He had helped them grow from seeds to full bloom over the course of nearly two years.

He’d come across this particular kind in one of the gardening books in the library. They had caught his attention immediately, the big puffy white petals reminding him of a certain ghoulette’s flowing curls.

He caught himself thinking of Cumulus more and more as of late, the closer he got to harvesting the fruits of his labor. It had started with him wanting to plant something new, then him deciding to grow them for her, then thinking he needs to make it a big gesture.

Thus, he’d asked Cumulus to meet him for dinner that night. He was planning to cook her favorite meal, give her the flowers and say some pretty words. Which words exactly? He’d figure it out.

Mountain delicately tied the flowers together with a light blue ribbon, making sure none of them were squished against one another. He was lucky it had finally stopped raining and snowing for a few nights, leaving the plants and ground dry.

He smiled to himself, proud that he could give Cumulus something he’d worked so hard on. She deserved nothing less.

“I knew you’d be here.”

Mountain instinctively dropped the bouquet and turned around in a flash, trying to cover it and the bush they came from. Of all people, of course Cumulus had to come find here and now. She was dressed up warmly in a beanie and gloves he’d seen her knit herself, as well as a thick winter jacket. She looked positively adorable in the getup.

“I am,” He said stilted, “Did you need something?”

“Yes, actually. About tonight…” She seemed nervous, somewhat sheepish. Mountain’s heart sped up, mind immediately assuming she was going to cancel on him, “What should I wear? Like, will it be something fancy or just casual?”

A sigh of relief left the earth ghoul’s mouth, his shoulders sagging with the release of tension, “Uhm… We could totally make it something fancy, but I’m onboard for whatever you’re most comfortable with.” It really didn’t matter to him. On one hand, Cumulus was worthy of all things special and he wanted to prove he could provide that. On the other, he really did want Cumulus to be at her most comfortable around him.

“I’d like an excuse to dress up,” The ghoulette blushed a bit, “Are you busy right now?”

Mountain gazed over his shoulder to the bouquet. At least one of the flowers had probably been damaged when he dropped it, “A little bit. Do you need my help with anything?”

“Yes but no. I just thought maybe we could meet up a little sooner. Watch a movie and have some warm drinks.” She was fumbling with her hands, sensing that she may be interrupting something.

How could he possibly say no to that? Any chance to spend time close to her was a chance to take. But if he stood up and went with her now, there was no way she wouldn’t see the flowers already. He really wanted to keep those a surprise for a little longer, so he had to work around it here.

“Absolutely, I’d love to. But I need to finish everything here first, so maybe you could go set up already and I’ll join you soon in just a moment.”

“I could also help you.” Cumulus smiled brightly. She’d never been big on gardening, but she was just as desperate to spend time with Mountain as he was for her. Besides, it did always look very calming when he did it.

“No.” He immediately said, regretting it as soon as he saw her expression drop, “I just need to…” He tried thinking of an excuse, “Dethorn a few plants. I don’t want you to get hurt.”

The ghoulette seemed to understand, but stayed a little disappointed, “Aha. Well, be careful as well then. I’ll go get everything ready in my room.” She still made sure to smile at him, trying to cheer herself up as well.

“Thank you. I’ll make it quick.” He mirrored her expression.

The second she disappeared around the corner of the hedge, Mountain turned around in a panic. He examined the bouquet he’d dropped, indeed finding two of them squished and muddied. He untied the ribbon, removed those two, before tying it all together again.

He tried to stifle his disappointment. He still had a few left, and the bush would keep growing in the future. But it wasn’t about the future, it was about tonight.

In a hurry, he made his way back to the ghouls’ den, making sure he didn’t run into Cumulus at any point.

“What are you sneaking around for?” Mountain nearly dropped the flowers a second time, startled by Swiss’ voice.

“Swiss. Perfect.” Mountain waltzed up to him. He nearly shoved the plants into his packmate’s hands, wrapping his own around his to ensure Swiss actually held onto them, “Do me a favor and put these in a vase. Carefully. They’re for Cumulus but I’m not giving them to her yet.”

Without awaiting a response, Mountain hurried away again. He didn’t want to keep her waiting for too long. Once he got to her door, he allowed himself a second to take a deep breath before knocking.

“Come in.” She sounded like her usual cheerful self.

Mountain opened the door, immediately hit with the sweet smell of apple and cinnamon. Cumulus was already laying on her bed, a white woolly sweater and light blue pyjama pants adorning her body.

“There you are.” She smiled, her eyes nearly closing with how wide it was.

Mountain felt frozen in place for a moment. He was always so mesmerised by her beauty. If he didn’t know she was a hellspawn, he’d easily mistake her for a goddess. Snapping back to reality, Mountain stayed just outside of the room to take his boots off in the hall, instead of dirtying up her space. Without care, just wanting to get to her already, he dropped his jacket on the ground next to the shoes. He then stepped back inside and shut the door behind him, making sure to not slam it too hard.

“What’s that?” He asked about the beverages that waited for the two of them on a little tray on her nightstand.

“It’s warm apple juice with cinnamon.” She sounded very excited about it, “A sister had me try it once. It’s really yummy.”

Mountain picked up the two mugs as he came down on the mattress, handing one to Cumulus and inspecting his own. A lot of the cinnamon was merely floating on top of the juice, probably the reason why there was a spoon in there. The warmth tingled his cold hands, the smell automatically making him relax into the bed.

He moved his arm around the back of her bed frame, silently inviting the ghoulette to cuddle into him. She did so as much as she could, without spilling any of the contents in her cup.

“Did you have something in mind to watch?” Mountain asked, a suspicion already on his mind.

Her smile told him he was correct, “A new romcom was recently released.” She said as if it was just a random fact and not a suggestion.

The earth ghoul had never really enjoyed those types of movies before he started watching them with Cumulus. Even if he thought they were incredibly cheesy, he would never deny her the chance to watch something she genuinely enjoyed.

“Sounds like a banger.” He agreed, his heart melting when she snuggled further into his side in thanks.

It emboldened him to put his hand onto her waist, underneath her sweater. She shied away from the touch, yet further into his side.

“You’re cold,” She giggled.

“Oh, sorry.” Mountain made a move to remove his hand again, but she snatched it and held him in place.

“It’s ok. I’ll warm it up.” Her eyes twinkled.

Soon enough the movie was on, the drinks had been finished and both ghouls had slid down the bed frame to lay down in each other’s arms. Indeed, snuggling up like that was a great way to warm up.

Even after the credits rolled, they didn’t move. They’d made their way into a spooning position, Mountain being the big spoon. The two of them fit together so well. Mountain, with as little movement as possible, snapped off the light on the bedside table. Cumulus didn’t react, quite possibly already asleep like he was so close to being. He pushed his face into her curls, enjoying the fresh smell of her shampoo. Its floral scent reminded him of his garden.

His eyes shot open in sudden anxiety. He had been so eager to get to Cumulus he handed a very delicate, very important bouquet to Swiss, who had no clue how to keep them safe. But it would be fine, right? He was told to put them in a vase, how could he possibly mess that up?

Mountain tried to force himself to relax, to just enjoy this soft moment. Swiss didn’t deserve to get doubted like this, he hadn’t done anything wrong.

Cumulus turned around in her sleep, her arms coming around Mountain to pull him a little closer. His heart melted once more, any anxieties vanishing in the instant. He stayed there, nice and warm and so very sleepy.

He didn’t know how much time had passed before he woke up to the sound of a commotion. Somewhere down the hall two people seemed to be shouting to each other.

Cumulus also stirred awake at the sound, but Mountain quickly shushed her, “Don’t wake up. I’ll go take care of it and get you when dinner’s ready.” He whispered. She hummed in agreement, rolling around as he got up.

Getting up groggily, Mountain nearly walked into the door as he rubbed his eyes. As he got closer, the racket down the hall seemed to be settling down.

“I’m sure Mountain will understand.” Dew’s voice sounded dismissive, at which point Mountain practically started running.

“Understand what?” He asked, even before he’d rounded the corner.

The kitchen was a mess. A dishcloth laid on the stove with a clear hole burned through it, a pan and something very charred laid discarded on the floor. But all of that wasn’t what caught his attention. The first thing Mountain noticed was a vase with very burned flowers sat less than a foot away from the stove.

He stared at them, not daring to step closer and assess the damage. That would make it too real.

“On the bright side,” Swiss carefully interjected, “one of them made it out alive.” He held the single left over flower out for the earth ghoul to grab. Mountain made no such move however.

“Who puts flowers right next to a stove?” His voice came out weirdly calm. Weird, because he was fucking fuming.

“Well, I didn’t think Dew’s would be this bad at cooking.” Swiss excused, before sighing and looking at the floor, “I’m really sorry.”

Mountain’s gaze still hadn’t moved away from the burned bouquet he’d build up to for so long. A part of him wanted to freak out, but he knew it wouldn’t solve anything.

“Get out. Both of you. I’ll take care of dinner.” He didn’t leave room for argument. Dew immediately scampered out, glad to escape a lecture. Swiss, on the other hand, stepped closer to Mountain cautiously.

“Where should I put-” The earth ghoul wordlessly snatched the flower from his hand before walking to the counter. With pain in his heart, he threw the burned flowers away and used the vase to preserve the final one. He put it away on the kitchen island away from the stove and got to work on the pack’s dinner.

The midday nap proved to have been a great idea. Cooking two separate times, once for the majority of the ghouls and then again for just Cumulus and him took a lot of energy. Although no one was forcing him to make two different meals, he wanted to do something special for his favorite ghoulette.

He went and set the final plates down on the dining table for everyone to dig in. He took a deep breath trying to switch his mental space towards the different recipe, almost forgetting he still needed to change into a more fancy outfit.

He jogged to his room to do so, putting on the one suit in his closet. It was a rich emerald green color. He put a simple black button up underneath and decided that as much as Cumulus deserved the best out of him, he did have to start cooking soon.

He walked back into the kitchen, freezing for the umpteenth time that day.

Cumulus was sitting on the counter, the stem of a very specific white flower being rolled between her fingers. Seeing them side by side, Mountain realized just how correct he had been in comparing the two. The bloom looked like a second, smaller version of the ghoulette’s glowing hair.

“I’m assuming you grew this,” She noted, not taking her eyes off of it, “It’s beautiful.”

“You weren’t supposed to see it yet. Then again, there were also supposed to be more of them so we can just forget about it anyway.”

That made her look up fast. She delicately put the flower back in the vase, walking up to Mountain and holding his face in her hands so he had no choice but to look her way, “Did something happen?”

Mountain leaned into the touch for a second before walking up to the trash can. Cumulus gasped when he held up the burned remains of the bouquet.

“Oh. Well, at least this one made it out.” She saw it from the bright side, gesturing to it.

“They reminded me of you.” Mountain explained further.

She moved a hand to her heart at that, truly touched, “Thank you so much.” Her voice was soft, her mind too filled with love to notice.

“At least there’s still dinner.” Mountain cheered up at her reaction to his somewhat failed gift. But the flowers had been only one part of the whole.

Cumulus clapped her hands, lifting herself back onto the counter to watch him. He’d taken his suit jacket off, so she got to admire the way the sleeves of his button up were rolled up, the muscles in his arms flexing every time he picked up a pan or cut vegetables. She’d asked to help out, but he’d insisted on spoiling her. Even if a part of her felt a little guilty at just sitting there, usually being the one who enjoyed taking care of others, she did appreciate the effort he was putting in.

She still did whatever he’d allow her to. She tasted small bits of the food so he could gauge her reactions and set out their plates and glasses at the small table that stood in the room.

While Cumulus was happy and calm, Mountain’s mind was racing still. He still didn’t really know how to word his feelings. He tried desperately to come up with what he’d say once they were seated. But there was simply not enough time.

“Done.” He sighed, a little tired but mostly disappointed in himself.

“Yay.” Cumulus beamed, ignorant to his internal struggle with himself. She hopped off the counter to quickly find her way to the table. Her chin leaned on her hands, elbows on the table and legs kicked under the table.

Mountain put their plates down and got the two of them something to drink before finally sitting across from her. He still wanted to come up with something, but as soon as he met her eyes any worry faded from his mind. He was content to simply be there with her.

“Cheers,” She smiled slyly, holding up her glass.

Mountain lifted his own glass and clinked it against hers, “Cheers.” He repeated.

After taking a quick sip, Cumulus brought one of her arms across the table in search of his hand. He grabbed hers, “I do really, really appreciate all you’ve done for me. Today and in general.” She smiled.

“There’s absolutely no need,” He lifted her hand to kiss the back of it, making her giggle a little nervously. He lowered it again very slowly, deciding that aimlessly searching for the right words wouldn’t help either of them, “Cumulus…” She looked at him kindly and expectantly. For a moment he thought of backing out again.

“I love you.” The two said simultaneously.

She giggled again, while Mountain sat awestruck, “Glad we’re on the same page.” She smiled.

“Yeah… But it so-”

“much more than that.” She finished the sentence for him. It was like she was reading his mind, knowing what he felt. Feeling the exact same way, “I know, dear. And I feel the same.” Her smile softened.

Mountain could only nod, not having expected it to go like this of all ways, “I’m glad.” He mumbled, grabbing her hand a little tighter.

[My Main Masterlist | Domestic December Masterlist]

[seirindono]

Update

Hi everyone!

It's been a while, hasn't it?

For some of you, this may be the first time you've actually seen me on your feed since I'm on my annual hiatus so... Hi! I'm Seirin, your friendly skeleton lover and author of The Missing Scarf, that one Undertale comic (o´▽`o)

If you were not aware, this blog is usually only active in the summer and/or during the holidays as I'm a student, but I figured I should still write a little smth as I really haven't given any news for a long while now.

So, um, this blog is still very much alive, and so is TMS!   DEMON AU TOO

Truth is, I didn't anticipate back in September the sheer amount of work I'd have to pull off this year as well as the crazy schedule, house mouves, and many, many group assignements... I've always managed but this year is just rough, both physically and mentally (that was new). I had a serious slump around new year and didn't even have the motivation to draw or open social medias for a while. 

But you know me, always ranting that health comes first and that I’ve seen enough burned out artists to know not to go beyond my limits. (*￣▽￣)b  So knowing that I had this 30 pages+ lore doc, unfinished sketches and pile of unanswered asks just waiting for me whenever I wanted to work on TMS, I knew I wasn’t up for the task and had to put it off for later. And later. Again and again. 

That's about it for the venting section.

As of today, I'm still short of time but I've got some of my energy back, enough to write this anyway. But also *drum roll* to work on the next part of TMS! 

And this is where the real announcement comes in: while I'm still on hiatus, I'm planning to adjust the publication schedule a bit for this part. Until now, I'd post a chapter (1 page per day) only after I finished drawing it in its entirety. For this part however, I've decided to try a monthly (or bi-monthly) publication, to give me some leeway, and for you to have actual updates.

We'll see if I can keep up with this pace, but it seems much more satisfying for everyone  ( ´ ▿ ` )

So there you go. Sorry again to those who kept sending me Asks and dms I never got to answer. I just kinda turn into a hermit when overwhelmed or don’t notice them at all (I feel extra bad when I eventually do but every drop of energy needs to be salvaged for irl emergency), but I really appreciate the thought! And, yeah, I haven't disappeared into thin air. I’m just... Lurking here and there.  

Thanks for your patience and I'll see you soon!

Updates will be on the 1st of each month (and occasionally on the 15th)

[itneedsmoregays]

Hello, I wanted to ask you a question about cupioromanticisim. I'm also autistic and lately I have been thinking I may be somewhere on the aro/ace spectrum. I'm a trans-lesbian woman, and I have yet to ever date or even kiss someone. I haven't ever had a crush before either. How did you realize you were cupioromantic?

Well in my case, it was quite a few things.

In late 2021, my eldest brother and his girlfriend had been together for a good couple of years and my other brother had just started dating a girl as well. And there I was, single. I was beginning to wonder whether something was wrong with me. Why I didn't seem to click with anyone. I considered the possibility I may be aromantic but thought "No, that can't be it. I still like the idea of falling in love, I don't hate romance at all. So why can't I just do it? It's so easy for them! Have I just not found the right one yet?"

It wasn't until JaidenAnimations posted her video on coming out as aroace that things changed. I watched it and then scrolled down to the comments where people were sharing their own stories on coming out as aromantic or asexual.

One comment said that they liked the thought of being in a relationship but weren't interested in actually being in one. And someone replied to them: "Oh, there's a term for that. It's called 'cupioromantic'."

I was utterly stunned. That literally described how I was feeling to a T.

So I did some more research on that microlabel and ruminated on it for about a month just to be sure. And I finally realised that I’d always liked romance and the idea of a romantic relationship, but the thought of actually being in one, let alone going on a date with anyone, had never interested me.

It made a lot more sense to me, especially thinking back to my childhood. There was a kid I was very good friends with in primary school. We hung out on the playground at lunch, I went over to their house, invited them to my birthday parties, etc. They were really into horses and Harry Potter (before any of us knew how awful Rowling was), but it was our love of Thomas the Tank Engine that really made us close.

Near the end of our final year of primary school when we were due to go to different secondary schools after it finished, I thought I'd fallen in love with them. And I thought to myself: "They deserve a grand romantic gesture before we possibly never see each other again! That's how they do it in the movies so I must do that too!". So on the last day when the school had a Year 6 disco, I pulled them to the side away from everyone, told them I loved them and kissed them. But even then, it didn't feel as spectacular or magical as I thought it would; it was more of an awkward "Oh. I... guess we're a thing now." And looking back, they looked like they found that kiss pretty awkward too. Still we tried to maintain our relationship and stay in touch through email, but eventually broke up and lost touch after nearly two years.

Looking back at that, it became clear to me that I was more interested in the idea of being in a relationship. Thinking I knew how romance worked and not realising there was a lot more to it than just kissing and saying "I love you".

So one month after seeing that video and thinking hard, I lay on my bed looking at the ceiling and whispered to myself, as a test, "I'm cupioromantic".

And a happy chill ran through me. I wasn't broken. There was a label that accurately described me, and hearing it from my mouth felt so right.

So, yeah, that's pretty much it. I liked romance and the idea of being in love, but never actually felt interested in seeking it out. I figured out that part of myself thanks to JaidenAnimations (and @lily-orchard posting that video) and I'm a lot happier now. Hope this helps you.

[vacantgodling]

I have a burning question for you. One we all need answers to (only if you want to feel free to let this ask rot in your askbox for eternity you have my permission.)

is donut wip alive

KAT!!! i’m happy to see ya :’)

technically speaking donut wip & the entirety of the liminal space series as a whole are still alive! (i’m not a huge fan of killing off my wips i usually just shelve them indefinitely until i circle back to the idea) — couple of reasons it’s shelved rn tho

1. paramour brainrot >>>>>>>> like seriously this wip has made me insane idk what magical combination of tropes and ideas i managed to spark like 2 years ago but i have never been this abnormal about a wip ever i think lol. so a lot of my wips have been sidelined in favor of my Child.

2. i got Super Stuck. not just regular stuck where you get writers block for a bit then move on no, i mean Super Stuck as in i was stuck on donut wip chapter 15 i think for like a year and a half before i finally said “i cannot force myself to write more in this draft i have to take a break” so i stepped back from it and the series in general to figure out what was going on with me and my brain. and i think really what it came down to is at that time it wasn’t fun for me to write? it felt very much like a chore—despite all of its horror it seemed “safer” to write. it was the thing people were expecting out of me and i felt like i was writing more to fulfill expectations than to actually write this story because i enjoy it. AND I DO ENJOY IT!! that’s the crazy thing. i really like this story and the nuance i allowed to grow into it when it literally started as me being “fuck it write a horror novel just to finish something and don’t care about the characters” but i care about them so much now etc etc.

but because i don’t do well when i feel forced it just sucked the joy out of it for me. paramour in comparison, has never felt forced. it’s always exciting and stimulating to my brain because it is a wip that is so very Me all over it. and i wanted donut wip to have that same feel but i gotta give it more time. maybe i’ll try doing the outline to writing method that i’ve been doing and working for paramour so i can avoid getting stuck again.

however, i did actually rewrite donut wip’s chapter 1 proper back in may of this year—i wanted to see if i could come back to it and make myself write it Forreal and i could! i did! and i’m really happy with it! which is exciting! and as a treat you (and anyone else who reads this full nonsense ramble or remembers donut wip from eons ago) can read that revamped first chapter—first official piece of donut wip writing i’ve ever really posted. just cuz like tbh it means a lot to me that you care about that story weh ;3; and remember—

so without any more waffling: here is chapter one, uncensored from spoilers so u get drawn into the mystery 👀

Chapter One

I groaned when my guitar string snapped again for the third time today, the discordant twang echoing in my large dorm, up to the rafters. I heard Andres laugh from Tiffany’s bed.

“Oh yeah, making faces at it will help.”

“Fuck off.” I stuck my tongue out at him. “Toss me…” I waggled my pointer finger towards a stack of boxes between Tiffany’s bed and my desk. Opened and dangerously leaning was a box of replacement guitar strings, near empty and I’d only bought them a few months ago. “… Those.” Andres didn’t move though. I groaned again.

“Andre!” I snapped my finger and my voice at him. “Strings!”

“I’m not a dog. Besides, you’ve been at this for three hours. When are you finally gonna give up for the day and spend some time with your bestie?” He put emphasis on the word, but the trill of his voice was playful. “Hmm. I have been buggin‘ on this part a bit.” I pretended to think, tapping my thumb against my cheek. He seemed hopeful. I caved and laughed aloud. “Later!” I giggled at his groan. “I wanna make sure this melody’s flowin’ right before I break. Then we can play Spyro or whatever else ya wanna do.” Seeing as he couldn’t be bothered to give me my strings, I got up myself and toed my way through the mess that was steadily building up on the floor between the beds. I snatched up the box before Andres could knock it over with his outstretched foot.

“Oh, you watch it mister.”

“Sooooory.” He dragged out, but his grin told me he wasn’t sorry. I flipped him off, then flopped back down on my bed, quickly setting to work on restringing. More of them had begun snapping lately as I composed, but I chalked it up to stress. Finals wore me down this semester, more than they had in our first year, but it was bittersweet that they were over now. This year went by so fast, it’s like I blinked and it was December again. Beside me on the bed my bright yellow phone buzzed.

“Who’s that?” Andres asked. I flipped it open to look at the message.

from: vivi

Are you sure you want to stay for winter break?

from: vivi

Dad wanted me to ask again.

I tossed my phone back on the bed.

“Just my sister!” I said cheerfully. “Doing dad’s errands again. I told him I didn’t want to deal with him and Miss Borsche.” I wrinkled my nose. “He’s been buggin’ her to get me to come with them since I told him no.”

“Come with them… where?”

“Oh usually dad goes on some sorta cruise or vacation for the holidays. But, he never invites Vi. So I never go.”

“Why doesn’t he invite her?” The question was posed nonchalantly, and I looked over at Andres, who was looking down at his smartphone.

I’d venture to say that we’d become near best friends now after the past year and a half of knowing each other, yet there was still a lot we didn’t know about each other. I knew he had siblings, but not their names, and he knew about Juvia, but not anything more than that. I knew his family wasn’t rich but they worked extra to push him through school. He knew that mine was, but I had loans out the ass. We played guessing games every now and again—to get to know each other. But whenever there was some real-life line we went to cross in our blossoming friendship, he was always open and I always hesitated. It’s just how it were.

“She…” I tilted my head back and forth a bit. “It’s a bit complicated, I reckon.”

“Then take your time telling me. I’m not rushing you.” Our eyes caught, and he gave me a tiny smile that I couldn’t not return back. But things fell quiet after that, and I turned back to my strings.

Winter break was here, and the freedom that came with it curled around our slowly emptying building like the fresh blanket of snow that dusted our sleepy little college town. On the telly earlier, there were talks about a blizzard rolling in sometime between today and tomorrow. The snow for now was peaceful, and inviting. It crowned even my windowsill when I woke up this morning, and even if I wasn’t with Juvia in person, the holiday buzz still felt strong in the air.

A rap on the door drew me out of my thoughts.

”It’s open!” I called. The handle clicked then pushed open a crack, just enough for someone to poke their head in.

“Kelley.” Andres acknowledged the second I breathed out “Joaquin!” Our R.A regarded us with a lazy smile, and my eyes traced the curve of his handsome mouth. A flush of heat shivered through my body, and I darted my eyes away when they met mine.

“How are you two holding up here? Your folks coming soon?”

“Negativo.” Andres leaned back on Tiffany’s pillow, stretching one leg out into the air. I heard something pop and I made a face. “They’re back home and I don’t have enough money for a plane ticket there. So I’m staying.” Joaquin nodded easily, then he turned to me again. “Julissa?”

“Just Juls is okay!” I said quickly. I coughed. “Um, no, I’m also staying. If that’s alright?”

“No rules against it.” Joaquin flashed me a smile. “I was checking to see who’s still going to be here so I can send a final count to the director.”

“Is it just gonna be us?” Andres asked.

“No, there’s,” Joaquin paused to pop open the door a little further, and leaned against the wall. He counted on his fingers. “The three of us. Then, Daisy Kennedy, on the third floor. René Edwards, down the hall and….” He looked up at the ceiling, trying to remember. “Ah, Saul…Carson, I believe. Top floor.”

“Didn’t know you had someone named Saul on your floor.” I said, looking over to Andres. He snorted. “Me either. Aside from my roommates, I only really talk to you Juls.”

“You’re such a loner.” I teased, as though I was any better. Andres chucked Tiffany’s pillow at me.

“Hey!”

“Actually Kelley?” Andres started. I threw the pillow back and nailed him in the torso, making him choke on his next words. Joaquin’s quiet huff of a laugh distracted me for two seconds—enough for me to let my guard down. Andres jumped from Tiffany’s bed to mine and grabbed me in a headlock.

“Andre!” I shrieked, but he was merciless. His freehand dug into my side and began to tickle at my sides. It wasn’t long before I was howling with laughter, trying to desperately shove him off me. Amused, Joaquin waited patiently with his arms folded loosely over his chest.

Andres finally relented and let me go and I kicked his shin for good measure. “God, I can’t breathe.” I wheezed. Andres laughed jovially, then turned back to Joaquin. “I was going to ask if we had to stay in our dorms while we were here?”

“Well,” He looked between Andres and I, raising an eyebrow. “I don’t think you need my permission, you’re both adults.” I felt heat swarm my dark cheeks and next to me Andres sputtered. “It’s nothing like that!” He snapped. “I just mean, I got a leak in my room and Juls offered to let me crash here. I just don’t know if the break protocol is different than during the school year.”

“A leak?” Joaquin frowned, reaching for his phone. It was similar to Andres’s, clear and sleek. He tapped a few buttons. “From the roof?”

“Yeah. I woke up this morning to snow dripping down my face.” Andres shrugged. “I don’t know how long the leak has been there, it’s been pretty dry this year. But I don’t want to deal with it, it’s literally right above my bed.”

“Like I said, you don’t really need my permission to stay wherever you’d like. But thanks for telling me, I just scheduled a maintenance request.” Joaquin tucked his phone back into his tight jeans. “Should be a few days but it should be fixed.”

“If it wasn’t snowing, I’d get up there and do it myself.” I hit Andres with my hand lightly. “That’s dangerous.”

“Wouldn’t want you falling off.” Joaquin hummed. “Now that I would be held responsible for.”

“Are you staying too, Joaquin?” I asked. Andres elbowed me. “He just said that. Earth to Juls, get your mind out of the gutter.”

“It wasn’t there in the— Oh, I hate you!” Andres and I began squabbling again and from the door Joaquin laughed. “I’ll leave you all to it!”

“Thanks for coming by!” I called after him as he moved from the doorway. Before I turned fully back to Andres, from the corner of my eye, I saw… something follow after Joaquin. I couldn’t get a good enough look at it, but what I did see looked like a cream colored tail.

[world-of-fire-and-flight]

The Lair in the Woods: Part 4

A/N: Taking a little break from book 3 this weekend to do some crafting and such 😊 I meant to post this last week, but I never finished it though I did finish draft one of book 3 and am “working” on editing it now!

Warnings: feelings of fear and anxiety, near panic, medical scenario (past hypothermia-esque scenario, nearly freezing to death), references to stalking/being stalked, swearing, maybe slight manipulation but it’s not intended!

My Masterlist | Taglist Info | The Lair in the Woods series masterlist

Civilian dozed on and off uneasily, woken by the most innocuous of sounds from the heater kicking in to the creak of the old logs. Every so often, Supervillain would creep into the room and put another log or two on the fire. They’d stoke it, staring into the flames for a moment, before disappearing back the way they’d come. They didn’t look at Civilian when they came, and Civilian wondered if they were pointedly ignoring them or if they were even aware that Civilian was watching them.

It wasn’t until the first sign of the pale dawn light had come streaming through the high windows positioned near the ceiling that Civilian’s ear pricked again. Their eyes burst open with alarm. Heart pounding against their chest, Civilian kept completely still, listening as soft footfalls came closer and closer with each creak of the floor.

A shadow appeared behind the chair their savior had once occupied. Still, the figure came closer, holding a medium-sized duffle bag. Civilian’s breaths stuttered for only a moment before it began to tear in and out of their lungs.

“Whoa,” the person said quietly. “It’s okay, I’m just here to check on you. There’s no need to be frightened. I’m [Medic’s fake name]. I guess [Supervillain Alias] didn’t mention I’d be checking in on you?”

Civilian eyed them skeptically. “They did.”

Taking a slow step toward them, Medic asked, “May I?”

They pointed to the spot beside their bed of furs and blankets, but Civilian just kept staring back at them. Supervillain had said that Medic would be coming but…what if this was a part of their plan? What if more than one person had been sending them those letters? What if…what if it was a pair of stalkers and not just one?

“Is it all right if I examine you?” Medic stared curiously at them, holding their bag aloft as if it explained what they were going to do.

“N-no,” Civilian stammered, shifting as far away as they could on the bed without falling off.

“Oh, uh,” Medi scratched their head. “Okay then. Could…could you tell me how you’re feeling then? Better, worse, the same? Are you in any pain?”

Civilian continued to watch them warily, not providing any answers. Medic bounced on their heels, staring at them expectantly.

Finally, Civilian found their voice. “Why am I here? What do you want from me?”

“Maybe you do have some head trauma,” Medic muttered to themselves. They raised their brow, tilting their head. “Did Supervillain not tell you what happened?”

“I don’t believe them.”

“Oh…kay,” Medic said, taking a step back. “I’ll just…come back—Ah, Supervillain!”

“Leave them be, Medic,” Supervillain said, strolling past them both and into the kitchen. “Civilian’s terrified of something…or someone.”

Medic glanced back at them and then followed after Supervillain, leaving Civilian alone in the sitting room. Civilian craned their neck to try and watch them over the top of the couch their bed had been built against, but to little effect. They were half tempted to follow after both of them, but maybe now was the perfect time to try their escape. As the whir of a coffee maker greeted their ears, overpowering the low muttering of the pair arguing animatedly over something, Civilian’s eyes darted to the hallway Supervillain had emerged from.

Their lips pressed into a determined line. Furrowing their brows in concentration, Civilian took one last glance into the kitchen, making certain the pair was too occupied to be watching them. Taking a breath, they gathered their courage.

This was their chance. And they certainly weren’t about to let it slip through their fingertips.

*

“I don’t know!” Supervillain hissed, “It’s not like I came out and told them who I am or what we really do here!”

“Well they’re more than terrified! They’re nervous system is shot, and not from their near-death experience!”

“Don’t take that tone with me, Medic,” they whispered dangerously. “I’m not an idiot, I think I know when someone’s truly terrified. I don’t need you to tell me.”

“Hey, I’m just stating a fact,” Medic clarified, gesturing toward the living room. “They’re about three seconds away from a pa—”

“Wait,” Supervillain stood on their toes, craning their neck to peer into the living room. “Where’s Civilian?”

Medic followed their gaze. They audibly swallowed. “Shit.”

“Call Right Hand. Now.”

“On it. I’ll check the corridor,” Medic said, already walking away from the kitchen and pulling their jacket back on.

Supervillain stalked slowly from the kitchen, surveying the sitting room. Civilian was true and wholly gone, as if they hadn’t been there in the first place. Their lips pursed.

Why would they leave? Why risk their health, their life, just to flee and head right back into the very blizzard that’d nearly killed them in the first place? What had them so scared?

Supervillain shook their head. They’d just have to ask when they found them—if they found them again. If they’d already made it outside through the patio doors, Supervillain was hard pressed to follow them out into the harsh snow and fierce mountain gale.

But if they didn’t…It might draw unwanted attention to their base and operations here and Supervillain most certainly didn’t want that.

Cursing under their breath, Supervillain carried on into the hallway. They edged passed closed doors—storage closet, hall bath—silently pushing each one open and peeking inside only to find them as cold and empty as the sitting room. They weakly attempted to ease the glower from their features, but the more they thought of Civilian’s escape attempt, the more agitated they felt.

They should’ve just braved the storm and broken into one of the vacation homes scattered throughout the mountaintop. What were they thinking, letting Right Hand and Medic talk them into allowing Civilian to recover here?

“Not that they’d given me the chance to protest,” Supervillain mumbled, pulling the laundry room door shut behind them.

The only room left now was theirs, and with it, the patio doors leading straight out into a freezing hellscape of snow and sleet and wind.

Slowly creeping down the hall so as not to disturb the floorboards, Supervillain prowled closer and closer to the open door at the end of the hall. The light they’d left on made a small triangle on the hallway floor, but otherwise, everything seemed undisturbed. This was the only place Civilian could be—if they hadn’t made it outside yet.

Taking a silent breath, Supervillain pressed themselves against the wall beside the door. They hadn’t the slightest idea what they were going to do if they found Civilian inside. Something had spooked them, but without knowing what, Supervillain didn’t know how to approach them. It’s not like they could keep them here against their will—Supervillain grimaced.

They could keep them here against their will, but if they did, they risked exposing themselves as the master criminal plaguing the country. Or at least, that would be the risk if Civilian hadn’t already realized who they were, and that was the big problem. Supervillain didn’t know if Civilian knew who they were really were and if that was why they were scared, or if it was something else entirely.

But what?

Civilian Surname was ordinary…unless…

Supervillain’s jaw twitched. It wasn’t unheard of in the caped community, for someone without super-human powers to don a mask and call themselves either a hero or a villain. Maybe that’s why Civilian was so scared: they had a secret identity that they couldn’t risk being exposed.

Supervillain smiled. That certainly made sense given all the facts. Their patrol had found a little hero, for Civilian certainly couldn’t be a villain with their record—or lack thereof.

Shaking their head, Supervillain finally found the courage to peek inside their bedroom.

Civilian didn’t see them, struggling to get the tricky patio door open. Supervillain watched them silently for a moment, stepping into the doorway and leaning against it. After a moment of watching Civilian fiddle with the lock some more, they cleared their throat.

Civilian gasped, jumping at least a foot in the air. Whirling around, Civilian looked like a cornered rabbit, nearly pressing themselves against the frigid glass doors. Supervillain bit back a smile, imagining that they could really see Civilian’s heart beating out of their chest as their mouth opened and closed a few times. Stammering they said, “S-sta-ay a-away f-from me!”

Supervillain held their hands up in a placating gesture. “If you want to leave so badly, you should at least steal a coat and some boots too.”

Civilian’s brow furrowed. “W-what?”

Sighing, Supervillain took a slow step inside the bedroom, pointing vaguely to the bed as they continued on under the ever-fearful gaze of Civilian. Pulling the top blanket from their bed, Supervillain said, “I don’t know why you’re so scared, or why you want to leave in the middle of a blizzard, but if that’s what you want, then go ahead. I’m not gonna stop you, though I can’t promise Medic won’t try.”

They held the soft sherpa blanket out, wiggling it slightly in offering. Civilian stared at them, cradling their arms to their chest. Supervillain wasn’t sure if they were trembling from the cold or from their fear, though they supposed it was possible that it was the result of both.

Slowly, Civilian took the blanket from them and wrapped it around themselves. Weakly glaring at them, Civilian’s shaky voice was hardly more than a whisper. “Why have you been stalking me?”

The Lair in the Woods: @just-a-space-rabbit, @classicplesiosaur, @pigeonwhumps, @kaiwewi

Part 5

[soongtypehuman]

Update on Things

It’s been almost 4 months since the craniotomy that removed the tumor that was crushing my brain. The hope was that the surgery would cure the mild to moderate cognitive issues I was dealing with, or at least stop them from progressing. I’m sorry to say that wasn’t the case, and many of the problems have gotten dramatically worse.

I don’t want to go into too much detail, least of all because it’s boring. My short-term memory, ability to read and write, as well as speak fluidly, have all been affected negatively. I’ve just had another EEG to see if the seizures are continuing, and will have another MRI this week to assess the amount of damage to my brain from the tumor that had been affecting it for years and any damage caused by the surgery, and to check for a stroke. It’s a lot of fuckery I don’t have all the answers for yet. Once I have answers, then I can begin a more exacting treatment for the problem(s).

Unfortunately, as I said above, the problems are affecting my ability to write.

Planning and outlining have always been the backbone of my writing process, but even more so now. Everything is slower and requires a lot more concerted effort and lots of revision.

In short, I’m not able to create as quickly as I once could, although I’m hoping that will change eventually with enough rehab and figuring out new ways to work around my setbacks.

Ideally, I’d like to continue posting every Sunday, just as I have for over a year, but I might have to accept the idea that, as far as things go at the moment, I might not be able to use my writing time for both a weekly ficlet while also finding the time, energy, and focus to work on longer fics. For the time being at least, I might have to switch to posting every other week so I can allot more time and attention to the longer fics.

I just don’t know yet and can’t set anything in stone either way.

But I did want to say something about all of this because I was worried people might see me posting less frequently or posting work that isn’t as long as it used to be and think that I’ve gotten lazy or lost interest. That couldn’t be further from the truth. If anything, my love of this series is one of the few things in my life that brings me joy and that I can count on (my most beloved @monotremer being the main source of that), and one of my biggest motivators in rehab is trying to return to being focused and prolific where my writing is concerned. But I also have to accept that some things may never return to the way they were.

In any event, I hope to keep posting work regularly, but hope everyone understands if I’m not always able to do that.

Updates on what’s coming:

I was working on a longer fic to post to the Data/Lore collection today, but didn’t finish it, so there’s a shorter ficlet in the non-explicit Positronic Rivalry collection instead. The D/L fic should be ready to post next Sunday (fingers crossed). And while all that’s happening, I’m still working on the multi-chapter in the main series that got much bigger than I originally intended. It’s slow going, but it’s going, and my hope is that it’ll be ready to post in July.

[penguiduck]

2023 and On Writing Plan!

Hello, Dear Readers!

As I’m combing through comments and emails, and responding to as many as I can, I am overwhelmed by the supportive community. So, to those who reached out to me via whatever channel or commented on my works while I was out of commission, I appreciate you. <3

Now, I’m trying to come up with a strategy. Basically, how am I going to get back into writing after being gone for so long?

Well, I’ve come to some possible conclusions, so I figured I’d share them with you:

Some of my behaviors will be changing to make my time more efficient. For example, I used to wait until I was about to post an update to respond to comments. I may be doing this throughout the day now as I have a bit of time on my phone, maybe while the baby naps or between appointments at work. Things like this!

I will try to keep to the current chapter length for each respective piece of fiction consistent, but going forward, chapters will likely be longer. I generally can get updates out faster in smaller segments, but I’m not looking for speed now, per se, as much as consistency. This will allow me to save time in the posting process, and I can stick with a story longer so I don’t forget what transpires when switching back to it from updating something else. My memory is not what it used to be, embarrassingly enough.

Unfortunately, I will be indefinitely discontinuing my Expression of Thanks raffle. I hate doing this, but it’s a huge time-sucker that I could enjoy doing when I had fewer responsibilities—just not with a baby! I am sincerely sorry about this. I hope to do this again in the future.

I have a few active projects currently:

Armistice

Taming a Dragon

Star Forger

Chasing Autumn

Jaharaan Love

I will be prioritizing Taming a Dragon and Chasing Autumn first as TaD is almost finished, and CA is short and sweet.

Next, I will focus on Armistice and Star Forger. Both are projects that I am passionate about. Armistice is outlined quite far out, and I actually already have content written in future chapters for key plot events. Star Forger is huge undertaking for me, but I am so, so excited about bringing a quality WWYFF to the YYH world, so I’m going to do my best!

Afterward, I will pour all that I have into updating the rewrite of Jaharaan Love, which is my first love and brainchild. I might sneak some work into this project even amongst the other updates, but I really want to bring this to life for the readers who have stuck with me since the beginning. Its sister story, Dalanten Hope, is likely to either be updated concurrently or after I finish the revamp.

Lastly… well, I don’t really know. I always have ideas for reader-inserts and WWYFFs. I have a dream to be published one day, but who knows? I have a daughter now, and she will be my focus for the next ten years until she decides she’s a big girl and doesn’t want constant attention from Mom all the time. I’ll do my best to keep up with writing until then—it’s a skill I’m going to have to continue to flex.

Of course, I ask for your patience. I understand the prospect of getting updates so scantly is not appealing. But if you’re still a reader-insert-lover like me, that desire to read high quality fiction never really goes away…

Much love to you all! Thank you for all you do to support me!

[gasha40k]

Currently a massive heatwave in my city and it’s slowly boiling me to death in my apartment like an unaware frog, so I decided it’d be a good time to distract myself by getting some tertiary work done on some lads.

From left to right: Kardon the Eternal, Lord Akselos, and some unnamed guy with a big ass axe

Starting with the most boring stuff, my World Eaters character goon squad is all primed and ready to be painted. Once I’m done assembling this army I’m gonna paint these three guys first because they’re the coolest, by far. I’m still mad proud of Akselos’ model and I’m super excited to see how he’ll look on the tabletop when he’s all shiny and colorful.

Epic unusable Chaos model, thank you GW

Speaking of painting World Eaters, here’s a CSM Legionarie that I whipped up a while back as a color test for my World Eaters army. The whole goal with my Khorne fellas is to keep them as default as possible, so the color scheme is very simple and coherent.

On this particular mini, I wanted to maximize my usage of Mephiston Red, which is exemplified most particularly on the rocket launcher, which I’d usually paint with Abaddon Black. I think that it being red, though, gives it a sort of retro feel, which I quite like. This may be one of the better single minis I’ve made, as well. No highlights or anything, but some decent, clean coloring, and a lot of Agrax Earthshade.

I have, however, been doing some highlighting on Lieutenant Sadrian’s model. I’ve also been cleaning him up periodically, coloring over little mistakes and trying to make his model really pop. He’s almost definitely the centerpiece of my Thunderbearers army now.

Check out how regal and leaderly he looks amongst his men. What a tactician!

Sadrian is one of the few models that I haven’t repainted in Skavenblight Dinge, alongside Big Harold, the Venerable Dreadnought that I’ve had since I started the hobby. They’ve both more than earned their stripes on the tabletop, having been in nearly every game I’ve played in the last two or so years, and I figured their paint jobs were pretty serviceable, so a repaint would be unnecessary.

While Sadrian is an elite taxtician that routinely exercises unmatched intellect and complex battlefield knowledge, he is also a by-the-books, reliable warrior and a ruthless marksman, hence the simplicity of the inscription upon his trusty bolt rifle

But to make him stand out more as an HQ, I added some minor highlights to his armor, particularly on his arms and helmet. I also highlighted much of his gun and did some detailing on the purity seals and red tassels. I’m very satisfied with the inscription on his gun. It’s crazy to me that I was able to write a word that small and, uh, have it be actually legible.

Every single painted Astartes model that I own. For context I have nearly 3k points of these fuckers and only 10 finished minis

I’ve painted a good handful of Thunderbearers Intercessors since my last post. Nearly a full 10-man squad, now. Sadrian definitely stands out, and I think that, when contrasted with the leagues of men that he commands, eyes are naturally drawn to him. I’ll never get over how satisfying seeing a cohesively painted army is to my weird brain.

I am so fucking in love with this model and I do not know why, although I figure it’s got something to do with its appearance in Dawn of War

In other news, I’ve got one of these disgusting classic Daemon Princes coming in the mail. GW recently did a made-to-order run of this model, and I’ve been trying to hunt an inexpensive one down for actual months. He’ll be a staple of my WE army whenever I get my hands on him, although I am kind of terrified as painting it.

I’ve just about run out of image slots on tumblr, so I’ll post a bit more about my Crusade (and some thoughts on 10th edition) next post.

[quibbs126]

So I’ve been trying to do this darkrasp kid for ages, but I swear, I just cannot draw them

And it’s not so much from lack of ideas (I mean, I don’t have many ideas for them but I do have a few, though mostly for design), it’s just that I cannot will myself to. I think it’s because I’ve tried and failed to draw them twice already. It’s like when you’re trying to draw something, and it just doesn’t look right, so you erase and redraw the same thing over and over again, and by the end the paper’s gotten ruined from the constant erasing and drawing

I first tried to draw them way back in I believe March (which was…Christ like 4 months ago now), around when I drew Raspberry Cheesecake, as I was doing them both at the time. Hell I even mentioned the darkrasp kid in that post, and that they both existed in the same universe as second cousins, since I imagined that they would be finished next. And at that time I think I was doing well, I had an idea of where I was going

But the problem came in the form of their sword. See, Raspberry has a fencing sword (I believe a rapier), and Dark Choco has what I believe to be a greatsword. So I wanted to try and come up with something in the middle for this kid, something that still looked like a blade like Dark Choco’s, but not nearly as wide. Then I discovered basket hilt swords and decided that was the perfect solution

I was able to come up with the blade just fine, but then the problem came in the form of the hilt, because I just could not make a hilt that looked right for the blade. It looked like I stuck two completely different swords together, and the hilt always looked too small for the blade

I don’t have any pictures of the hilt, but I can show you the blade and how far I got in the original drawing

I really liked the blade and how it looks, but I could not get the hilt to look right, so eventually I just gave up and decided that I’d simply come back to them another day. However unfortunately, I didn’t, probably because I knew I still had no solution for the sword, and so they remained, currently being one of the two oldest requests I have, right next to velvetgatto (which I also mean literally, as the canvases are right next to each other)

(Also I should mention, the blade would have gone under the arms. Which now that I’m thinking about it, may have just covered up the hilt entirely, but also for the type of hilt I was going for, it probably would have still shown)

Anyways, so then, when we were flying over to England, I decided I’d take another stab at it, seeing as how I’d drawn Ficelle and he’d ended up pretty good, so I was on a roll it seemed

I was trying to just draw the character, and I got farther than last time, but on the plane ride, I couldn’t really focus and get much done, possibly because the plane was shaking a bit as we lifted off, and I can’t really focus on drawing in a moving vehicle. I also believed perhaps I was a little burnt out, like how I felt when I talked about Vanilly some time ago, so I thought I should just leave it for now and resume again later

But then, I never did, partially because I just couldn’t figure out where to go next, and this was all I had

I tried again earlier today, but I end up just staring at the screen. So then I thought “maybe I should just start over once more, start again with a clean slate”. But then I’m looking at the empty canvas, and I have no clue what to do

I think at this point the canvas might just be so tainted with the past failings that I can’t bring myself to think of anything. Like I’ve created this stigma against them, and now this one has been in a deficit and just mindset of “I’ll work on it later” that I just can’t think of anything

And it’s not so much a Zuccotto situation where I don’t do anything because I have no clue what to do for the character. I have some ideas, like they’re a swordsman and wear white (bc both Dark Choco and Raspberry have Costumes where they wear white), and that their hair has black and pink, with both streaks and a gradient that goes into the same pink (though I’m also considering the idea of changing the black to a very dark pink, in part because of a new name for them), but I just can’t draw them

I feel like I need to just start from the ground up; like I don’t have many ideas about their actual character, other than they’re a swordsman, and they seem to be a more nervous and/or cautious individual, possibly due to the legacies of both their lineages, but that’s not much to work with. Plus I’m realizing that sounds a bit too much like Choco Madeleine. But then what should I do?

Oh also, something I was gonna mention but didn’t know where, I’m also thinking of changing their name. Originally it was Black Forest Cookie, since I couldn’t find any big thing with dark chocolate and raspberries, so just change raspberries with cherries, but now I’ve got two new ideas in the form of Black/Dark Raspberry Cookie (bc black raspberries), or Raspberry Jam Cookie (bc of my recent headcanon that Dark Choco and his dad have some jam in their dough flavor, and here it would end up being raspberry jam)

Honestly, at this point maybe I should just delete the original canvas and just make a new one, because the original has just been tainted at this point

[runnning-outof-time]

• K’s ‘Halfway to 2K’ Celebration •

Thank you so very much for 1.5K Followers!

I never thought that when I started writing again that this blog would become so big, and that my stories would be read by so many people. The amount of support that I get absolutely blows my mind each and every day that I log onto this site. I don’t think I would be writing still if y’all hadn’t been so nice to me. It really means a lot. ☺️💕

So......for my 1K follower celebration, I took on some blurb requests and tried my best for y’all. Now, for my ‘halfway to 2K’ celebration, I figured I’d ask for some of the amazing writers within the Peaky community to join in and celebrate with me.

I’ve decided to organize a little celebration that I will go into detail about below the cut, so if you’re interested, please tap/click on the ‘keep reading’ so you can learn what it’s about. I really hope that you’d want to celebrate with me!!

If you’re not interested, thank you so much, again, for following me and/or reading my stories. You are truly the reason why this blog is still alive. 🥰❤️

**For Updated Choices and Finished Creations, check this post out!

First off, thanks so much for taking interest in my celebration! It means the world to me that you’d want to join in!

So I’m gonna start off by saying that this beautiful idea comes from what Lily ( @/retromafia ) decided to do for her latest celebration. I absolutely love music, and, as I’m sure you’ve noticed, I love to base stories off of songs that I get inspired by...so when I was thinking about what to do for a celebration, my mind went to this idea almost immediately.

Listed below are a bunch of songs that I’m in love with/have been listening to a lot recently (I may have gone a bit overboard, I know). I feel like these songs would lend themselves well to writing (particularly with peaky), and I hope that you find the same.

So...if you’d still like to participate:

first off, pick a song. Then pick a character(s) you’d like to write with (it can be any character from the show — only Peaky Blinders though, please). You can use a show pairing, OC, or a reader for your story...I’m open to all ideas. If you plan to write something that’s NSFW (18+), please make sure that you put the proper warnings (and that you are 18+)! Finally: Send me a message with the song and the character you’re going to be writing with!

- Because I have so many songs listed here, I hope that you’ll be able to find one that will strike inspiration. If you absolutely, positively want to use a song of your choice, please send me a message with the title and artist first. I’d really love for you to pick one of mine, but I will be open to suggestions.

- I’ve gone back and forth between how many people can use the same song. I think that I’m going to allow two (2) people per song, but I’d hope that you might find interest in one that has no names under it first...if that makes sense. I’d like to see as many songs on the list used as possible. Also, you’re more than welcome to choose more than one song ... in fact, choose as many as you’d like!

If you’re not a fic writer, but you’d still like to participate: I’d be happy to accept moodboards or edits, or whatever else you may want to create. If this applies to you, please make sure that you send me a message letting me know what you’ll be creating and what song you’ll be using.

**You don’t have to be following me to join in on the fun — everyone’s welcome here!**

There is no deadline for these creations to be submitted by — let your creativity flow free!

Please make sure that you tag me in your work so that I can see it!

Alright...let’s get into the songs now. I’ve listed them in alphabetical order. I hope you find one that interests you! 😊

———

After A Few - Travis Denning

Afterglow - Ed Sheeran

Ain’t Nobody - Bones Owens

Better Man - 5 Seconds of Summer

Burning House - Cam

Can’t Make You Love Me - Chloe Fredericks

Corner of Your Lips - Francy & The First Time Feeling

Dance with Me - Morgan Evans & Kelsea Ballerini

Devil Is A Woman - Bishop Gunn

Don’t You Wanna Stay - Jason Aldean & Kelly Clarkson

Fallin’ All In You - Shawn Mendes

Fix A Heart - Brett Eldredge

FOR YOUR LOVE - Måneskin

Gold Rush - Taylor Swift

Hard to Love - Lee Brice

Hesitate - Jonas Brothers

Hotel California - The Eagles

I Don’t Trust Myself (With Loving You) - John Mayer

I Want More (Live at Skálholt) - KALEO

I Will Destroy the Void in You - The Glorious Sons

Lady May - Tyler Childers

Lover - Taylor Swift

Lover of Mine - 5 Seconds of Summer

Parallel Line - Keith Urban

Photograph - Def Leppard

Quietly Yours - Birdy

Reputation - Post Malone

Runaway - Maroon 5

Satelitte - Harry Styles

Shameless - Garth Brooks

Slip Away - Luke Hemmings

Starting Over - Chris Stapleton

Stay - Post Malone

Steady Heart - Kameron Marlowe

St. Patrick - PVRIS

Symptoms - Devin Dawson

The Knife or the Hatchet - Ryan Hurd

The Laws of Love and War - The Glorious Sons

The Night We Met - Lord Huron

To Be So Lonely - Harry Styles

To Hell & Back - Maren Morris

To Make You Feel My Love - Garth Brooks

Until I Found You - Stephen Sanchez

What a Time - Julia Michaels & Niall Horan

Why Can’t This Be Love? - Van Halen

Wild Eyes - The Glorious Sons

Willow - Taylor Swift

Woman - Harry Styles

Work Song - Hozier

———

Just wanted to tag some people who have been so very lovely to me throughout my time on here and who might be interesting in joining in on the celebration (no pressure though) 🥰

@zablife @holacia2 @retromafia @l1-l4 @mrsalwayswrite @mrs-gray @gretelshelby @christinasyellowflowers @look-at-the-soul @riridontneedya @theshelbyclan @mrs-shelbysolomons @sunsetmourners @gilmoreslorelai @julkaamazing @huntingingoodwill @mythos-writes @amysteryspot @peaky-cillian @pherelesytsia @madame-wilsonn @findinghisredrighthand @dearshelby @magicalxdaydream @peakyswritings @toms-cherry-trees @teenwolf-theoriginals @yummycastiel @shelbydelrey @noforkingclue @celticmelody @writeroutoftime @evita-shelby @writerliry @julyzaa @padfootdaredmetoo @gypsy-girl-08 @notyour-valentine @runesandmoons @agrayshade @amysteryspot @fallatyourfeet @anonymooseforever007 @normatural @helio-nex @priceofasapphire @anotherblinder @a-lil-bit-nuts @sympathyfortheblinderdevil @theshelbyslimited @thomasshelbydrabbles

**more lovely people tagged in the comments because Tumbr’s being funny and won’t let me tag any more blogs**

[bvannn]

Weekly Update October 6, 2023

I’ve been very volatile this week, which may continue next week or may not. I don’t know yet. I’ve been on weird cycles of doing a ton of art then doing nothing for a few days. It will probably continue.

So October is started and I’m an impulsive little greedy fuck so I decided to do three different prompt sets, but I’m doing them all differently. OG inktober is getting priority, because I feel bad about failing inktober 52 earlier this year. Maybe I’ll ink or digitize the few of those sketches that I never finished once I’m done, or maybe I won’t. Anywho I’m trying to do inktober daily, more or less. Second priority is goretober, because I need practice and also with life stuff being still weirdly volatile despite all I’ve done, bloody pictures are really cathartic. I’m tagging everything to be extra safe, even though I’m honestly probably over tagging. Idk day one was mouth stuff which really sets some people off so maybe I was overly cautious because of that, but I’d rather be over cautious than get in trouble. Lowest priority prompt set is cringetober, because even though I just kind of avoid most of the stuff on the list naturally due to personal distaste, I still appreciate the spirit of it. Cringe always has a place, even if that place isn’t on my monitor specifically. I’m not doing every prompt from that list because some of them I really can’t figure out anything Oc related (deadass almost gave up for ‘overly complex fit’ and drew Shulk Xenoblade and his ugly ass outfit instead, but decided against it because that’s against the spirit of the prompt set). I still want to fit in as many as I can, and even though most of those will be late, I’m still going to try. At a minimum I want to do the MS paint one that sounds fun.

Also I threw in a random drawing of Stitch this week. Maybe I’ll do other random drawings too, probably not. I’m already pretty behind on stuff.

So I’ve mentioned I’ve been slacking off with TRGA the past couple weeks but I’m trying to get myself back together with it. I’m trying to figure out timing a bit better, and I did finally get some assets I’ve been procrastinating on done. Jon now has actual soles to his feet, and soon Emile will have the sketch lines I’ve been trying to lean into with my art. I can recolor the foot sole asset for Tim and Emile also, although they won’t need it for this animation. I’m mostly at this point messing with actual movement timing and strategies to make the boys more distinct from one another, although I’m probably overthinking it admittedly. The current shot, 1-4, is by far my most complex in this regard, and may be the most complex of the animation, so chances are I’ll post a WIP once the ‘main’ character animation is done. Or maybe not. I’m not sure.

This week hasn’t been the best for personal life so my mood is extremely volatile, so there’s no guarantee anything will be consistent. My plan is to do one inktober drawing and one keyframe/batch of tweens/chunk of work a day for TRGA done every day, and then the additional prompt sets and/or general drawings done whenever possible, but I’m such a mess I can’t guarantee anything. I’m trying to get stuff together with doctors, since they have been telling me pretty good news, but my primary today said something that, while it would be great news, contradicts what a specialist told me. She did outright say to double check with the specialist since they were probably right, but you know how hard it is to get ahold of doctors for that so now I need to worry about that. I’m a mess this semester isn’t going very well, and tomorrow I’ll probably end up doing music instead of art which will suck because I probably won’t have anything to show for that for a while yet.

[pinkfadespirit]

End of year fic writer round-up

Thank you for the tag @barbex! And Happy New Year everyone!

I’ll tag: @fandomn00blr, @goth-surana, @aria-i-adagio, @johaerys-writes, @sulky-valkyrie, @glowing-blue-feathermage, @potatowitch, @noire-pandora, @factorykat and the others I’ve tagged below and anyone else who might want to do this. 

This year I published 4 new stories on AO3, completed one old one and completed the first draft of a new fic that I’m hoping to start posting in January. 

Words written (published or not, WIPs included!): roughly around 150k if I include DADWC stuff. This year started out a bit slow writing wise but it really picked up for me towards the end of the year when I did the DA Create-a-thon and Nanowrimo back to back. I somehow managed to write over 80k in those two months. I’ve slowed down a lot since but I’m still feeling quite positive about my writing after it, which is great!

Smut scenes: I think 3 published ones. One or two unpublished. And there are a few in the fic I’m still editing but they’re mostly glossed over. I may go back and add more to them but I’m undecided on that for now. 

New things I tried: I wrote Nanders for the first time – which was also my first time writing Nathaniel’s POV and my first Awakening fic in general. 

Fic I spent the most time on: the fic that took me the longest to finish was the life that, here, awaits, which I worked on on and off throughout the year. But that was several short chapters with long breaks in between them. So the fic I spent the most time actively working on must have been the Justnanders fic I wrote in part for Nanowrimo. It’s the longest fic I wrote this year at 40k and I’m still working on editing it. 

Fic I spent the least time on: My Secret Sanders gift is the shortest one I have on AO3, if that counts (I know author reveals haven’t happened yet but I’m pretty sure it’s no mystery which one is mine for anyone who is at all familiar with my work - and my giftee has definitely figured it out lol). If that doesn’t count then Trouble Sleeping would probably be it. I can’t actually remember how long I spent on it, just that it’s my shortest work from this year outside of DADWC stuff. 

Favourite thing I wrote: Probably the Justnanders fic. Not officially titled yet but I’m thinking of calling it Not To Disappear (shamelessly stolen from the Daughter song/album). I don’t know if it’s the best thing I’ve written, but I enjoyed writing it and I’m even enjoying editing it so far, which is surprising for me. I think the fact that I’m not rushing myself to publish it is helping a lot with that.  

Favourite thing I read: I read Holy, Holy, Holy by @little--abyss not that long ago and I loved it. Really loved it - like in a ‘it’s been weeks and I’m still thinking about it’ way. Also, The Place Where I Belong by @dismalzelenka is amazing and I think everyone should read it. 

Writing goals for next year: First, I’d like to finish editing and post the Justnanders fic. I’ve filled in most of the placeholders up to chapter six out of eight for that so hopefully that won’t take too much longer. After that, I’d love to get back to All Falls Away. I never meant to take as long a break from that as I did, but I think it was a good thing in the end. I feel excited by the idea of picking it up again so that’s a definite improvement on how I felt about it when I put it on hold back in February.  I also have a Handers modern AU in the works. It was my first nano idea for this year but I ran out of steam after the first week and switched projects. Now I’m having lots of thoughts about it again, mostly just working on a playlist and letting scenes play out in my head but I’d like it to turn into a full fic one day. My main goal is not to get so distracted by exchanges this year and make some progress on some of the ideas I’ve had on hold over the last couple of years.

[funkymbtifiction]

Relevant stats (lol): I identify as ESFJ 6w7 right now

I was reading that post you shared from Mr. ENTJ. Wow. I respect the automatic focus on reality, facts, and figures, but I feel like trying to think that way all the time would be kind of demoralizing. Like, you can’t ever try to shape your life based on the truths you think should exist, you’re trapped in the confines of reality.

Everyone is trapped by the confines of reality, because reality exists whether or not you accept it does. Some things are proven by facts, and that's where ETJs park themselves -- inside of factual reality. To them, thinking that way isn't demoralizing, it's automatic, and people who deny the facts of reality are foolish. As Ben Shapiro (ESTJ) says, "The facts don't care about your feelings." They are just facts. ETJs take the facts and then use that as a way of making decisions. It's the world of feelings that they struggle to navigate, because emotions are not factual and do not make "sense" logically. It's way easier for them to design a spreadsheet than "get" their emotional child. Why would you think this way or ignore the facts???

It reminds me of when I was dating an ENTJ, would tell him the first part of a story, and his opinion on what would happen would be set after the first sentence. Then I’d introduce more details and he’d be like “well that changes things,” and I was like “of course details change things.” Is there a more aspirational/optimistic side to Te?

I've seen be TJs be idealistic (usually if they are 1w9s) but they are still bound to the facts and default into them automatically, and do not comprehend irrational decision-making ("emotional" people). ETJs reach faster conclusions than ITJs, due to judging dominance.

Another thing I’ve noticed is that I, and other people I’ve met, tend to kind of shut off the rest of the world when working—we’re often not the types to talk through our ideas to people while working on them or collaborate on group projects. Work feels most efficient when the production process is untouched by the outside world, and very selectively edited. Is this Si, Ti, something else?

I don't think it's type related, but it may be instinct related. I do not brainstorm with people on MY books, they are mine, I want to write them myself, for my ideas to come from me and not them, and to fix any problems that arise within the narrative myself. I don't share my work until it's finished, polished, and ready to go. I'm fine with brainstorming at work, though, since the best ideas often come from building off others' different perspectives on things. Some people care more about "soc" (group interaction) than others; it usually means semi-strong social instinct in the stack (everything but sp blind). Some sp/so's love to collaborate, others, like me, do not.

Lastly, I wrote in to you around 2 years ago when I had pre-vax COVID, was quarantined, and hadn’t seen anyone in over a week. [...] What stuck with me most, oddly enough, was your assertion that I was probably an Fe-dom because my whole ask screamed “I NEED PEOPLE”. [...] I gradually noticed little things like: I could socialize every day and rarely feel tired of it, I felt vaguely panicky if I suspected I wouldn’t see people for over 2 days, I ALWAYS felt confident that I was on the Fe-Ti axis but could never decide if I used Ni/Se or Si/Ne, there were periods of time it felt like my day revolved around responding to messages, I was more social than my ENFP sister despite identifying as ISFJ, and I could return from a long day and unwind by talking to a friend. [...]

Anyway, a few things about Fe-dom these days:

-They’re judging types, but I do feel like my gut reaction to certain ideas tends to be “hmm, interesting; I’m open to considering it” rather than immediately judgment. I know what I personally feel about things I’ve encountered before and how certain things are likely to be received, but that doesn’t mean I “judge” them? Is this in line with an EFJ?

You're a head type and they don't commit to anything without analyzing it first ("I need to think about it"). 6w7 EFJs are less instant to judge anything than the image/gut-oriented types because 6w7 is so attached to outside perspectives and combined with low Ne, makes them pretty eager to explore new ideas. Given the nature and flavor of our many interactions, ESFJ seems right for you.

-These days if asked about introversion/extroversion I say that I’m “selectively social”. i.e. I have lots of energy for people, but certain “extroverted environments” (usually loud+crowded) like parties/bars/concerts drain me. Does this seem in line with an EFJ?

Everyone has a sliding scale of introversion/extroversion. Some EFJs are extremely social and others are not. So it doesn't rule out EFJ. Large crowds would be extremely draining for a lot of EFJs, and not allow for the kind of closeness and intimacy of conversation they crave with their friends.