#this was literally me just writing whatever to keep myself from losing it over the current plot right now

[peachyloveswriting]

hiiiiii can u do a kyle x f!reader smut? literally anything i just need some good smut 😣

MOVIE NIGHT --- (Kyle Brovloski)

SUMMARY: Kyle gets extremely horny during movie night with the boys.

WARNING: Smut, all stories aged up unless stated otherwise, degradation, praise, mirror kink or whatever, penis in vagina sex. I am in no way good at writing smut so fair warning.

⸝⸝⸝⸝⸝

In the living room, I can hear the low chatter of the boys getting settled in for movie night while they wait on me. Tonight we're all supposed to watch a movie marathon and pass out halfway through and technically, I'm not supposed to be here. Boys night's only, but Kyle insisted I come with. So I agreed. Walking out of the bathroom in one of Kyle's oversized shirts and a pair of comfy shorts, I make my way over to the couch. A whistle flies through the air, heads snap in my direction.

"looking sexy beautiful!" Kenny cheers.

Heat raises to my cheeks, smiling sheepishly I lift my hand and wave him off. The others chuckle. "It should be nice having a mediator here tonight." Stan sighs. He's laying on the floor in front of the table, behind him on the couch is Kyle and Butters, and right in front of the couch in Eric. Hands grab my waist, pulling me onto the couch. I find Kyle's chest against my back, he's pulled me onto his lap.

"No! Just as always, Kyle has ruined boys night!" Eric fusses. He gathers his feet beneath himself and stands, stretching up for the light string on the fan. Tugging it with a click, the room falls dark apart from the lit TV screen. He nestles back down onto the floor.

"Shut up Fatass I haven't ruined anything!" Kyle hisses behind me. His grip on my hips tighten. Reaching beside me to the blanket on the couch, I pull it over both of our laps and comfortably lean back against him, the back of my head rests on his shoulder. He sighs before pressing a chaste kiss to my temple. Smiling sweetly, I press a soft kiss to his cheek before looking back at the screen.

"Just try not to commit murder, okay?"

That was that and afterwards, silence fills the room and a movie softly begins to play. Everyone, including me, is enthralled by the movie. No one's said anything yet, we're all too intrigued. It's some romance Sci-fi about aliens invading. However, beneath me and in-between Kyle's legs I can feel his dick harden. At first I hadn't taken notice of it, as it wasn't as bad but I kept shifting to get comfortable. His discomfort is noted when I hear a low groan of pleasure in my ear, it's deep and muted. His hips are lifting for further contact. Involuntarily, my clit throbs with the beat of my heart and I push back against his rising hips. Thankfully everyone's too sucked into the movie to realize what's about to happen right beside them, and the darkness covers us.

Kyle's hot breath fans over my ear. "I'm losing it babe." He growls. I shudder in response and spread my legs just comfortably enough that his knee slips between them.

"Just wait a little longer." I urge.

The leg I'm sitting on starts to bounce, it's quick and unrelenting in its pressure against my already throbbing clit. It warms my gut, pushing my crotch harshly into his knee. I bite my lip softly and grip the blanket covering our laps. Like a fire lighting slowly, it begins to burn bright. Against my ear I hear Kyle. "You just look so damn good in my shirt." He whispers. It's just low enough that no one in the room even bats an eye, except me. Squirming and pressing myself against him I reach my hand back, grasping at the shirt on his shoulder.

"Kyle." I warn. I keep my voice low and try not to drag any attention to myself. Leaning my head back I turn to hide my face in his neck. Abruptly he stopped bouncing his knee, the hands on my hips are slowly sliding to my legs. Again I shift under the blanket, pressing my ass against his hardening erection. He releases a stressed breath, the hot air puffing out onto my shoulder. His rough hands are sliding between my thighs, lightly tugging at the plump skin to pull them apart more.

"That's it, open your legs for me like a good girl." He coos right as I Let him pry my legs open. Letting go of his shirt and dropping my hand back, I grasp his hand and lift my head to turn and glance back at him. "Are you sure about this?" Getting caught is way too much of a risk but I can't help the anticipation that's in my stomach when I think about it. He grins devilishly at me, half lidded eyes look back at me. "Yes, I'm sure angel."

His hand frees itself from my grasp and works its way down between my legs where it presses against my clothed cunt. For a while he stays doing that, his fingers rubbing me through my shorts. I find myself lost in the moment, my lips pressed tightly in anticipation for what he does next. Gently his hand pulls away and slides up just above the waistband of the shorts. He doesn't wait for my confirmation before he slips his hand under into my shorts and bottoms. Softly, Kyle's fingertips brush against my entrance before pressing down and sliding to the sensitive bud. I suck in a sharp breath and brace myself against him.

"You're so wet." He breathlessly laughs in my ear. "Does this turn you on? When I play with you like this in front of my friends?" Kyle taunts. Pleasure is radiating from his finger encircling my clit, I buck my hips and grind back against him biting my lip trying to keep quiet. "Yeah, you like that don't you baby? Feels good... My fingers are toying with you, inside of you, all while my friends are clueless." At that his hand slips down to my entrance and presses in without a moment's hesitation. I gasp in surprise, my back arches into his touch. Frantic, I look over at the others. Stan glances at me but looks away to go back to watching the movie.

Feeling me look away, Kyle curls his finger inside of me, I jolt at the sudden press of pleasure and reach back grabbing the back of his neck. My head is thrown back against his shoulder, mouth open with a silent moan before turning and biting my lip.

"That's it." He purrs. "Don't pay attention to them. Let them watch if they want."

A whimper slips past my lips but it's drowned out by the sounds of the movie. His teeth sink into the crook of my neck, biting and sucking before he raises his head again. "Shh, don't make a noise." He curls his finger again, the pleasure jolts my hips forward before I lower them back against him. Ever so slowly his finger thrusts into me, the pace is so slow but I just can't seem to breathe in deep enough. Suddenly a second finger slips inside of me adding onto the first. Just to keep the gasp from escaping again I bite my lip even harder. I know I have to be close to drawing blood but it feels so good. If I open my mouth I'm bound to make a noise everyone will hear.

The pace stays the same but the pleasure never leaves. It builds and builds, creating a tight knot in my stomach. My breaths come more shallow, my legs shaking, and back arches against him. The pleasure comes in waves, my hips gyrating against his hand. I blink, pressing the back of my head further against my shoulder. I can feel my climax coming and coming fast. Abruptly, it's torn from me. His fingers slip from inside me just for him to bring them up to his mouth. He smirks down at me, his tongue winding around the slink on his fingers. Harshly, I rut against his leg searching for any friction.

"Please." I whine.

After he finishes licking my juices from his fingers, he leans down into my ear. "Please what? Use your words baby. Tell me what you want."

Reaching down I lift my hips up to slide my hands under me. Frantically, I grab the button of his jeans and undo it. Kyle doesn't stop me, instead he looks me in my eyes as I undo the zipper. Just as I reach down to my shorts he pushes me back into his lap. "Use your words. Speak to me." He presses.

"God... Kyle. Fuck me, please." I whisper.

Without second thought he pulls the blanket off of us and pushes me to stand. "Using the bathroom, be right back." No one even bats an eye at us as he takes my hand and pulls me back towards the bathroom. Reaching the door he pushes it open and tugs me inside with him. Closing it behind him he locks it and turns back to face me. We wasted no time finding our bodies pressed into one another. His hands pull my hips close while I grasp his curly hair, only deepening the kiss. His tongue explores my mouth while he tugs my shorts and bottoms off of me. Hastily I pull my lips away and lean down to pull them off the rest of the way. As I do he slips his own pants off as well, leaving his cock to present itself to me when I stand back up.

"Fuck me Kyle." I plead again. Wrapping my hand around his cock and rubbing it softly I look back up at him and step closer. The breath in his throat hitches before he pulls me back into a heated kiss. Roughly, his hand slipped up my shirt groping my breasts and pinching my nipples. Gasping into the kiss, a soft moan escapes me. I can feel his cock bobbing against my stomach, the temptation to have him take me right now is irresistible. He seems to read my mind as he takes me and turns me around. I brace against the counter, his hips lining up against mine while my eyes meet his in the mirror.

"Watch me fuck you slut." He growls. Without warning he slips inside of me. Loudly gasping I reach back to find purchase on anything onto to hand my hand pushed against my back and held there roughly. Snapping his hips into my pussy harshly, he grunts with each thrust. He's fast and unrelenting, pulling soft moans from me with every move. The pleasure melts into my gut and spreads all throughout my body. I can't find the courage to look at myself in the mirror and instead close my eyes.

"look at yourself." Kyle orders behind me. I don't listen, instead opting to look at the floor instead. The rocking of my body stops abruptly when he lays an open palm on my behind. Whining, I bite my lip and lift my head looking at him in the mirror. His eyes meet mine again and immediately the slapping of skin returns to the air. "That's right, slut. Don't stop watching me while I fuck you."

The pleasure rocking through me makes it hard to keep my eyes on him, watching the way he's pounding into me at speeds I hadn't thought possible. Growing tighter in my gut is the knot, it's building even more than before, the rise of pleasure giving way to a shocking end. I clench around him, pulling a long groan from him. He doesn't stop the snapping of his hips while I grasp at the counter so hard my knuckles turn white. A wave of extraordinary pleasure washes over me. Eyes rolling back and walls fluttering around him I reach my end. The pleasure is so burning hot, the heat in my lower abdomen feels like summer. I can feel myself spill around his cock, his name falls from my lips. A stutter rises in his thrusts and he pulls out, his cum coating my ass.

Panting, I stand to turn and face him. Without pausing his lips find mine again in a slow and soft kiss. Without my list coated mind I can feel the softness of his lips on mind and the way his hands carefully caress my sides. He pulls away, breathless from the exertion.

"I love you so much."

I smile, my chest squeezing tightly. "I love you too."

He helps me clean up the aftermath, his touches soft and loving while he wipes me clean. Tossing the rag to the floor he picks up my bottoms and shorts to slide them back on my legs. "You don't have to do that Kyle." I reach down to swat him away and grab my clothes. He pulls them away from me and scowls. "Let me."

With a heavy sigh I lift my foot and step into the bottom and the shorts one by one. Standing he slips them up and smiles sweetly at me. Pressing a chaste kiss to my lips he walks over to his own clothes and begins to pull them up. At this time we both hear a knock on the door.

"Are you done yet dude? I have to shit." Stan says from the outside.

With wide eyes Kyle looks back at me, softly, I shake my head. "Yeah. Be out in a minute." He called back before readjusting his belt buckle. He smiles back at me and motions for me to follow. Happily I do so allowing him to lead me from the bathroom while Stan watches in shock.

"Dude! They fucked!"

[loveharlow]

hi :)

i love your writing! could i request an ajax x reader fic where the reader gets hurt and ajax gets all protective over them and angry with the person who hurt them, sort of angsty

thank you!!

ARE YOU ALRIGHT?

PAIRING ‧₊˚ Ajax Petropolus x Fem!Reader

SYNOPSIS ‧₊˚ [1.7k] Ajax is bit protective of his girlfriend and wants to keep her safe. So when a recently erratic redhead catches her in the Nightshades archives, he isn't too pleased.

WARNING(S) ‧₊˚ swearing, fluff, hurt/comfort, mild violence, Rowan loosing his shit, angry!ajax, mild angst

A/N ‧₊˚ I'm not tryna villainize Rowan , I just needed a conflict. RIP ma boy. PS - To all my gif makers, we need more Ajax gifs please, I will pay you 😭 (not literally I'm broke)

Hope this is good enough for you, anon!

˗ˏˋ ajax masterlist ˎˊ˗

I WAS IN THE NIGHTSHADES LIBRARY, SLUMPED AGAINST ONE OF THE SUPPORT BEAMS AS I READ THE BOOK I’D BEEN STUCK ON FOR THE PAST WEEK. A bowl of grapes on one side of me, occasionally dipping my hand in to grab a few and plop them in my mouth, eyes scanning word after word, paying no mind to my surroundings.

That was, until I heard the familiar screeching of the statue opening to the library. My face screwed in mild confusion, not expecting anyone to be coming. Especially at this hour — it was half past 11 and I should have very well been in my dorm, sleeping. But what Weems and the other staff didn’t know couldn’t hurt them, right?

The footsteps that descended the curved staircases were heavy and frantic, tattered sneakers coming into view as they practically flew down the steps. Fully lifting my head from the worn pages of the novel I was reading, I waited to see who had entered the library — seeing as only a handful of people knew it existed.

However, the face that followed was unexpected. A head of red hair and glasses — what was Rowan doing here? He got kicked out weeks ago. 

He didn’t seem to notice me as he eagerly scanned the bookshelves for…whatever it was he was looking for.

He looked stressed…erratic. Almost like a wild animal, if I’m being honest. He’d been acting strange ever since the new girl showed up but he looked worse than he did when we told him we couldn’t keep him around a couple weeks back. He had deep, red bags under his eyes and his hair looked like he either hadn’t touched it in days or couldn’t stop touching it. 

I let the grape clenched between my fingers fall into the bowl and let the book fall shut, the sudden noise causing the boy to whip around until he set his eyes on me. His shaky gaze went wide before hardening into a glare that I chose to ignore.

Setting the book on the ground, I stood slowly, dusting off my pants as I did so. “Rowan, shouldn’t be in here. You’re not a Nightshade, anymore.” I stated, keeping my distance.

“Y/n…” He muttered my name as if he was scared, putting his hands palm-side down in front of him as he inched closer. “I just need one thing. You don’t have to tell anyone I was here. I’ll be in and out, ’kay? I-I swear.”

I shook my head with regret, hugging myself close with the sleeves of my sweater pulled over my hands. “Rowan, I can’t- It’s not up to me. And even if it was, I'd tell you the same thing. You’ve been off lately…” I spoke meekly, not wanting to set him off as it has been easy to do that lately. Too easy. Dangerously easy.

His eyes squinted, his motions to come closer halting in a heartbeat. A deep scowl formed on his face. “Off? I’ve been off?” He laughed bitterly, looking up at the library ceiling. “That’s really funny coming from one of the elitist assholes who kicked me out of their little secret society the second I didn’t fit your standards anymore.” He snapped, throwing his hand out at me.

My head fell to the side as he spoke, lips parting to speak. “We kicked you out, Rowan, because you were losing your shit and we got sick of your tantrums. It seems not much has changed.” I reprimanded sternly. He started to take slow, calculated steps towards me. So, I started to walk around him, my back going from facing the support beams to me standing in front of the bookshelf, Rowan never taking his eyes off of me. We circled one another, almost taking the others place, with him now standing close to my abandoned book and bowl of grapes. “You’re dangerous. To yourself and us. And we don’t want to get caught up with whatever theory you’re chasing.”

“It's not a theory! It’s-” He took a deep breath, pinching the skin between his brows. “Damn it! Why are all of you so oblivious?! You can’t see the real danger that’s right in front of you-”

He was becoming volatile and unpredictable, in his words and movements. Grasping at his hair as his face became a deep, angry shade of red. “Rowan, you should leave.”

“NO! No, I’m not leaving until I get what I came here for-” He spoke quickly, his words jumbling together. He started towards me, in long strides and I almost didn’t see him coming. I wasn’t thinking clearly and he was starting to scare me.

“Rowan!” I shouted, the sound echoing of the walls and halting his movements. “Just go! I don’t want to hurt you but you’re making this more difficult than it needs to be.”

“I need the book…” He muttered, eyes glancing over the tiles on the floor frantically.

“What-”

“Just give me the damn book!” He shouted, finally snapping.

His right hand shot out and I could feel my body leave the floor as I flew back, my head hitting the wood of the bookshelves, disorienting me for a few moments. My head was spinning and the room was split into two as I tried to regain my consciousness. 

All of a sudden, what sounded like two pairs of footsteps were trampling down the steps, two blurry figures coming into view and shouting at Rowan. Inaudible statements I couldn’t make out. 

When my senses balanced back out, I could finally see the two people who’d entered the hidden library — Ajax and Bianca, shouting worriedly at Rowan.

“What the hell?! Stop!”

“Rowan, let her go!”

Rowan was simply shaking his head and squinting his eyes so tight, it had to have hurt. It looked like he was trying to block out his own thoughts and failing miserably. 

“Mmm.. shut up!” The angry boy shouted, causing his psychic hold on me to somehow put more pressure on my chest, constricting my airflow as I gasped for air — my chest was caving in. And if he didn't let me down, I knew I might die.

“You’re gonna kill her! Put her down!” Bianca pleaded. None of us were thinking straight. I looked ahead at my best friend and boyfriend, my eyes watering in struggle as my fists clenched at nothing. 

They spared a glance at one another before Ajax was reaching up at his beanie, going to tug it off before Bianca stopped him — shaking her head ‘no’ before she was marching up to Rowan and throwing his shoulder back.

Using her siren voice to force him into capitulation. “Put her down.”

Rowan's hands fell to his side limply, my lungs filling with air as my body slid rapidly down the wood of bookshelves and Ajax sped across the room as fast as he could to catch my frame before it collided with the hard floor.

His arms went under me, holding me bridal style before sitting down and lifting my head onto his lap, rubbing my cheek with one hand as I gripped the sleeve of his hoodie with mine.

“Breathe, it’s okay. You’re okay, it's alright. I got you...” he coaxed as I caught my breath.

Once I was breathing, shakily but breathing nonetheless, his head snapped to Rowan who was arguing to Bianca. “What the fuck is wrong with you?” He growled. “You could have killed her!”

“Ajax, it’s fine.” His gaze whipped back down to me, his glare harsh and angry — frightened. 

“Fine?” He said incredulously. “That wasn’t fine! He isn’t even supposed to be here. This is why we kicked him to the curb in the first place.” He ranted, turning back to Rowan who looked regretful about his actions but not necessarily sorry. “Because we knew some shit like this was bound to happen!” 

“I didn’t mean to...She was-”

“I don’t give a fuck.” Ajax said lowly, his eyes hard and dark. 

“You need to leave.” Bianca said sternly, arms crossed and eyes dead-set on him. Rowan stood in his place, stuttering like a fish out of water before she spoke again, much more conviction in her tone. “Now.”

Then the boy was dipping his head down and rushing up the stairs and out of the library. “Next time I see you, I’ll kick your ass!” Ajax shouted after him. He wasn’t the type to make threats but stoners had a type of strength like no other, so it wasn't one to be taken lightly.

Bianca rushed over to me who was now sitting up slow out of Ajax’s lap.

“Are you alright?” She asked worriedly. I nodded, coughing lightly once or twice. Ajax had a hand set on my back as I allowed my head to fall onto his chest, his free hand coming up to cradle my head.

“Thank you.” I muttered, voice still shaky. “But, why were you guys down here?”

Bianca smiled pitifully and rubbed her hand up and down my forearm. “I woke up and you weren't in the dorm, I got worried. I asked Ajax if you were with him and he said no, said he had an idea where you might be.”

“I told you to stop coming down here alone.” Ajax reminded firmly, looking down at me from where I was perched against his chest. I muttered an ‘I know’ and a ‘sorry’ before letting my arms go around his waist and hug him closer. Bianca let her hand fall from my arm, sending us both a look before bidding goodnight and leaving the library. 

Ajax and I sat like that for a while before he moved to stand, my arms falling from him as he rose. Dusting off his pajama pants, he outstretched a hand to help me stand. I wrapped both of my arms around one of his as we left the library together — my bowl of grapes and book abandoned and long forgotten.

When we got outside, I clung to him tighter as a chill swept by, my lungs thanking the breeze. “Can I sleep with you tonight?”

He didn’t stop walking as he leaned to kiss the top of my forehead. “‘Course you can.” He replied as we continued to walk together.

We made it to his room without being caught, going inside and getting comfortable under his covers. It wasn’t long before we clung to each so close, you couldn’t tell where he started and I ended.

“I’m sorry that happened to you. But I promise I won’t let it happen again.” He assured me sleepily.

“I know., but it wasn't your fault.” I mumbled, burying my face in his chest. “Love you.” 

“I love you, too.” He muttered, lifting my chin to peck my lips before allowing me to bury my face into his chest once more. His arms tugged me closer. I knew he was still fuming from what happened and I'd have to try and talk him down from potentially killing Rowan, or recruit Xavier to do it for me. In a weird way, I found it endearing to know he cared so much. But I don't like to see him upset.

And even though my chest still felt heavy and achy, and I’d have to sneak back to the girl’s dorm at the crack of dawn praying not to be spotted by Weems or the teachers — I knew it’d be okay.

feedback is appreciated! thanks for reading.

©loveharlow

[am-i-the-asshole-official]

WIBTA for telling a guilt-tripper to knock it off?

I'm part of a Discord server for authors, both aspiring and published. We chat about life, discuss story ideas, share snippets, look for beta readers, give each other feedback on our query packages—the usual. We're from all over the world, so sometimes time zones don't match up, and inevitably there are members who are more active and, thus, get a bit more attention

There's this one user—let's call them Kat—who used to be fairly active and had decent interaction from other users. Around December, Kat shared a bit of their writing to a critique swap—basically a Google Drive where we could look over each other's stuff and provide feedback. They uploaded a bit late due to their schedule (GMT) and didn't get as much critique as they'd hoped, which made them a bit disheartened and they commented as much in the server. I can't blame them, since feeling ignored sucks, but I feel like complaining about it in the general channel (we have a dedicated vent channel) was a bit gauche.

Regardless, Kat continued to be active, albeit posting less frequently. Notably, most of their posting seems to be either responding to group prompts or talking about their own writing. Rarely do they respond to someone else's comments—or, hell, even replies to their own! I've seen people inquire more about stuff they've brought up, and then they just never respond. People do interact with them; they just don't interact back.

About a month ago, they messaged the server talking about recovering from illness and coming up with a story idea, asking for people to look over their first few pages. Two people responded with sympathy and interest; as far as I'm aware, Kat never got back to those people. Usually in interactions like this, someone asks for feedback, another person replies to tell them they're interested, the OP asks to DM, and the conversation goes there; Kat straight up left them hanging. After that, they only sent a few messages—a couple of replies to group prompts (those rarely have interaction from other users, though I've made an effort to react or reply to interesting responses, and I've seen a few others do the same), and another passive-aggressive comment about being ignored.

Tonight, Kat sent a message to the chat in the general channel (again, not #vent) that started with, "Whatever I've done or not done that's made me a social pariah in this group to people I thought were friends who now ignore my questions or posts, at least have a modicum of compassion and heart this message..." They then continued, talking about losing someone close to them. I do sincerely feel for them, but I can't bring myself to interact with that message in any way. Not even the heart they want. Worse, I'm entertaining the notion of telling them that while I am genuinely sorry for their loss, guilt-tripping people isn't an effective way to garner compression.

Why I WBTA: Literally they're grieving, that's such a shitty thing to do right now. Besides, they are right in that people haven't interacted with them as much ever since they asked for feedback on their work that one time. I doubt this will help anyone, let alone them.

Why I might be a JAH (I know for a fact there's no world where I'm NTA): Responses have dipped because they aren't posting as much, and moreover, since they rarely respond to people at all, it's likely that we've all learned that it's not worth it interacting with them. Besides, if I ignore them, they'll just keep guilt-tripping even more, which also isn't helpful to anyone. And again—we have a vent channel. Why they came into the place where we chitchat about our weekend plans vexes me somewhat.

I dunno. It's a very damned if I do, damned if I don't situation. WIBTA?

What are these acronyms?

[agendabymooner]

colour me your colour || toto w. x ofc (1)

Summary: Tilly Marie nearly loses faith in her passion as she refuses to listen to everyone who told her to quit. Everyone but one. And it’s the man she met years ago at a racing event she didn’t want to attend. Who would have thought that her father’s partial ownership of three brands could take her to the zone of Mercedes and meet the love of her life?

Content warning: Age gap, mentions of an absence of a father figure, brief use of explicit language, mentions of nepotism. Fictional family and business involved (Hearth family and Hearth Automotives Group).

Note: I did a funny haha series. I literally just started on this yesterday. I'm writing the third part right now, hoping to work on this as much as possible. Again, I am still new to F1?? Please forgive me.

Enjoy! xx

i. what a beautiful sight that was

   It was the year 2006. The 21-year-old me did not want to attend on behalf of my father’s role to whatever this business was he was handling. I remember being extremely confident about walking up the stage to get my master's. 

I had always been told to be an intelligent girl. One that utilizes her skills in any way possible. Everyone praised me, and my maternal grandparents encouraged me to continue my education. My paternal grandparents expressed their admiration with a pat on the head and a kiss. My mother hugged me tightly and hung nearly every certificate I had captured. My father, however… he couldn’t get over the fact that he never had a son—one who would run the company someday and perhaps become a world champion. 

He lacked boys for his fatherhood experience, so he turned to me and set a list of expectations he had of me. He was still as healthy as ever. He could bench if he felt like it. But he still wanted to instill some responsibility in his companies and passed it on to me. 

But I earned my master's in Journalism and was halfway through my Bachelor's in Marketing. What did I know about motorsport? 

This didn’t mean anything to my father. He wanted me to handle the business and pass it off to the next person if needed. He just wanted his surname to remain known in the industry and public. He trusted me to handle particular areas that he thought I could do. 

But it was 2006, and I wasn’t given the responsibilities until years after. I was simply in Dubai to watch and entertain myself while cameras tried to get a glimpse of me—the Heiress. I was the next to become a shareholder in the businesses my father and grandfather (and his father) had put their money on. I was an eye candy—the strong woman of the Hearth family. And I was just in Dubai to watch men race lap after lap while they stayed there for hours, like mad men. 

And my father didn’t even tell me anything. I’ve only been exposed to observation. But my brain wasn’t made to be awake for a day, and my eyes preferred a piece of entertainment from my research paper. 

But my mind gave me a little nudge and turned my head to look at the man who’ll have me thinking for years. His helmet was on his side, his fingers tapping to keep him focused. He was tall. He was tall and handsome—a deadly combination.

The combination was too deadly, and I only realized this when he caught me looking. I hadn’t turned my head quite fast enough as I continued to examine and annotate my anecdotal record, pretending that my face wasn’t blushing.

It turned out he was just as intrigued as he was handsome. Fucking great. He sat across the chaise lounge I stiffly sat on, his smile I could barely see from my peripheral vision. 

Knowing he probably wouldn’t leave, I stopped pretending I was studying and looked up only to see his lips spread in amusement. His smile. Oh god. Couldn’t this man be the perfect man to have existed?

“You’re not here to study,” he chuckled softly, “Because you’d be in the wrong place otherwise.” 

Of course, I hadn’t passed up the chance to roll my eyes jokingly. 

The conversation lasted forever, and not once did he gloss over the screens to see how his team was doing at the track. He listened to me as I complained about the research I had to do for book publications. He wondered how I’d gotten through my master's at 21. Then he decided to guess while I provided my answer too.

“You’re gifted.”

“Generational wealth.” 

Then silence filled the atmosphere as if we could only hear the people talk in the background. My laughter after the pause made his mouth grin as he silently laughed. One of us was more biased than the other, I thought to myself. My success at school came from the high 90s that I achieved. My family's money made it easier for me to get in without any trouble with tuition. 

But the conversation didn’t last as long as I thought it would have, as someone who wore the same racing suit came barging at the door. The man frantically gestured for my company to follow him. 

He looked at me, his eyes keeping me in one place as I shifted. He could only say, “It was nice talking to you.” 

And all I could offer him was a stutter of, “Y- yeah, a pleasure to meet you. Y- your name is…” 

But his teammate beat him to it before he could utter his name. “Torger!” 

Then he looked at me again with a brief nod as he walked out of the room. 

He was a lovely man. There’s nothing nicer than an equally attractive and genuine man. I liked every single second that I spent with him. And I’ve only known him for fifteen minutes. 

And that remained as that. We’ve only known each other for fifteen minutes. When they announced the race winners, I was already on my flight back to England. I was already reporting to my father about what I saw. 

I told him about what I saw and experienced. But never once did I say to him about a driver of the winning team and how I’ve practically fallen for him. Because I haven’t fallen, he was just lovely. 

What a beautiful sight he was. 

[mccnstruck]

the dreams you let me follow.

characters: kazuha x gn!reader

tags: hurt/comfort, reverse comfort but also comfort both of you guys are a mess, not proofread, 2k+ words, long fic, gender neutral, no pronouns besides "you" for reader, self-indulgent, op is possessed by kazuha brainrot, could be seen in the same storyline as “never alone”, mentions of mental breakdowns, implied emotional abuse?, very ooc i don't know man

a/n: i know i posted like a few days ago but as today comes to an end i literally couldn't let myself go to bed without making something for kazuha. happy birthday kazuhaalkdlwklkaw AHHDHDHHAH ok. but anyways the ending was HORRENDOUS but if i carried it on any longer i would never finish this. reblogs and tags are much appreciated. oh and also you and kazuha both have abandonment issues LMFAOOAOOAOA

You looked beyond the windows of your Mondstadt home and onto the rain that poured on Monstadt City. The sun hid behind grey clouds, whose sobs embodied the roaring thunder. Its tears fell onto Mondstadt soil, and you saw people quickly run back home to the warmth of their homes. You turned on the lamp beside your bed and took a journal out of the bookshelf next to your bed. Your fingers felt the embroidery on the book’s spine and grazed over the writing on the cover. The red ink on the front read: “To Kadehara Kazuha.”

You opened the journal and grazed over your handwriting. Pages upon pages of messy handwriting took you back to the days when you first settled in Mondstadt.  

You remembered the night before you set your travels for Mondstadt. You entered your cabin (for quite possibly, the last time in a long time) and saw him writing in his journal. Crimson eyes looked up at you and Kazuha smiled. The moonlight barely shone inside the cabin, but even you could make out the tears that slid down his face.

Your heart shattered when you heard his voice. “Hello, dear.” 

“Kazuha, what happened?” 

You rushed to his side and sat on the bed. You brought your hand to cradle his face and gently slid your thumb over the tear stains on his face. 

You whispered, sadness lacing over your voice. “Kazuha…is it because of me?”

He sat in silence, and both you and him stared at the journal laid on his lap. 

“As a wanderer, I should know your situation best. It is not your fault, by all means. You should be allowed to embrace the love of Mondstadt City.”

“Kazuha-”

“Yet. Yet I keep trying. I keep…on trying…to cling on…” 

His tears fell onto the blanket and he hid his face from you; trying to wipe his tears away. 

Your breath hitched, and you felt your world crumble around you. 

Kazuha’s demeanor crumbled, and you pulled him into your arms. 

Seeing Kazuha’s usual smile taken from you….because of you. He said it wasn’t your fault, yet you felt the loneliness of Kazuha’s future travels. You felt the future lonely nights when you would have to stare out the window: wondering where your lover would share his love. 

But, you had to do this. 

You had to escape. And Kazuha knew. Both of you knew. 

Instead of comforting him with false lies you both knew to be meaningless; you instead made him promise one thing. 

“Kazuha. Keep on writing. Keep on writing and exploring the world.”

He looked at you and paused at your words. “Why wouldn’t I do that in the first place?” 

“Just…Just keep on writing. Never lose that spark. Do what you love, okay?”

You held out your hand to him and your pinky stuck out. The child in you, clinging to whatever promises you could believe in, desperately hoped for Kazuha to respond in kind. 

You softly smiled when he intertwined his pinky in yours. He promised, no matter what happened, to always follow the spark in his heart. 

At the thought of Kazuha, the journal in front of you became blurry. You looked up to find your home to be blurry as well. You were crying. Your tears fell as the gray clouds cried louder.

Archons, you wished to see him again. The unnerving fear of forgetting his face ate you alive every day, and you yearned to hear his voice once more. You were so busy laughing and working throughout the day that on nights when you only accompanied the thoughts in your head, you realized how long it had been. 

Would you even be able to show your face in front of him? You just…left Kazuha and went on your travels. 

No…you both knew. You had to leave Sumeru. You needed to build a home somewhere. 

Sumeru…

But why….why did you feel something for Sumeru? Your chest felt heavy, full of sin. Your happiness felt sinful, almost as if you needed to go back and plead for the Akademiya to take you back. 

Let them rip your designs to shreds, have them accept your crumpled academic papers with messy writing and dried tears. 

Mama, Papa.

They wouldn’t even let you acknowledge them. 

Did you mess up? Oh, you messed up. Did you? You could’ve lived with stability, with respect. You could’ve sacrificed your dreams, because everyone knows you’re just going to wake up anyways. Yet you lived your life sleepwalking, clinging to your dreams and ignoring reality. 

Was this what your parents wanted you to see? No. They could’ve supported your ambitions. They could’ve pushed society’s whispers and helped you build your wishes. 

Yet. They didn’t. 

You couldn’t even remember their faces. 

Mama. Papa. 

Mama. Papa. 

You couldn’t remember their faces. Yet their voices haunted your very being every day.

Mama. Papa. 

Mama. Papa. 

Mama. Papa. Mama. Papa. Mama, Papa, I’m so sorry Im so sorry im so soryryr mim sodttyt iams oso soryryruh please pforgive me PLEASE

Your thoughts were corrupted of pure hatred and that night, the beloved engineer of Mondstadt was left to rot in the hell of loneliness and insecurity. 

No one was to go through the rain to find you crying, so you could’ve screamed at the walls in your home and still would’ve gotten no response. Yet, knowing how alone you were, you quietly trembled and wrapped yourself in your arms. Your journal laid at your side, and the hopes of seeing your beloved turned into desperate cries to not be alone. The dried tears on the page said it all.

You don’t know how long you’ve been crying. Your chest felt the same heaviness, but your tears had stopped. You didn’t have the energy to wipe them off. You shifted on your bed to turn the lamp off when…

A thud shook your house, followed by a knock. 

You would’ve excused the thud to be the thunder, but a knock? Who was to be at your home in the rain?

“Give me a minute!”

You felt extremely bad to delay some warmth to the person outside, but your face was completely unrepresentable. You rushed to the bathroom to wipe your tears off and disregarded the other visible signs you were crying. You pulled out a scarf to offer and rushed to the door. 

When you opened the door, your eyes widened at the white hair with a crimson streak running through it. Crimson eyes looked back at you with glee, and the figure grinned at your shock. 

“Hello, dear.”

“You’re lying. You’re lying. No, I’m dreaming. This is a joke-”

In your state of denial, he pulled your hand towards him and wrapped his arms around you. He hid you in his embrace, and not even the pouring rain could separate you from him. 

Kazuha whispered, “It’s been so long…so…” He paused, his shoulders shaking, before he continued. “I wanted to see you. I’ve missed you.”

You gritted your teeth to hold back your sobs, yet the tears started again when you enclosed Kazuha in your arms. 

Your voice shook, and your chest gasped for air. “Archons, I missed you. So much.”

Even with your warmth, Kazuha shivered from the cold winds. You led him inside and let him warm up by the fireplace while you prepared something to eat. 

Kazuha noticed the tissues stacked up on your bed and your attempts to hide your journal in the bookshelf. 

“Dear?”

Your head turned rapidly toward him and you put on a fake grin. Your tears were wiped off, yet your eyes looked pained; as if they were about to close with agony. “What’s up?”

“I…Are you alright?”

“Yeah! Yeah. I’m ok. Why? Need anything?”

Kazuha worriedly smiled. “You seemed tense. And when you opened the door, your face looked pained. Desperate.”

You paused at Kazuha’s words and almost whirled back into your thoughts. You never understood how Kazuha could see past you, but it was an admirable skill, yet it made you very vulnerable. 

You regain your voice and shakily respond. “Hm. I’m just.. stressed. Don’t worry, it's a usual thing. Don’t worry yourself about it. Can’t have your pretty little head anxious over me.”

Your flirtatious remarks would’ve gotten to him, had your voice been more steady and confident. 

Kazuha, to your relief, let you drop the topic. Yet you knew he wasn’t going to let you go without talking. 

He pulled out a journal from his bag and laid it on his lap. The journal was colored red with designs that originated from Inazuma. He opened it to the very first page and began to speak. 

“That night before you left the Crux, I wrote in a new journal I had gotten. Remember the shop we visited in Inazuma?”

You hummed, acknowledging the memory. 

“I awoke in the middle of the night and wrote my first entry. It was dedicated to you. Here,” he held the open journal and gestured for you to read it, “you can read it.”

You take the journal from Kazuha’s grasp and sit down in the seat next to his. 

“To My Engineer, 

You’re so far away in the land of dreams, that I’m afraid I cannot reach you even in the night. I had a nightmare, but I don’t want to bother you right now. You have a long day ahead of you.

My Engineer. I hope I get to see you again so that one day I can show you this journal and you can ask me why I called you ‘my engineer’ instead of ‘my dear’.”

You cheekily ask, “Why did you call me your engineer?” 

Kazuha chuckled and gestured for you to read further. 

“Ever since I met you, I was so enthralled with your dreams that I forgot that those dreams aren’t stuck in place. Yet I clung on. 

To the future engineer who sees this. I am so proud of you. Leaving home, knowing it doesn’t call for you, hurts. I am so proud of you. 

I miss you. Yet you lay next to me as of right now, sound asleep. I’ll miss you, so very much, my engineer. Yet I know your dreams will inspire little kids and make Mondstadt proud. That’s what I admire about you. Your dreams don’t stop with you, but grow to communities, and will grow around Teyvat, in time. No matter what anyone says, you deserve to follow your dreams. You shouldn’t have to be stuck in one place. You’ve taught me the same.

This journal is dedicated to you. When you told me to follow my spark, a part of me hoped my spark would lead me to you. 

My engineer, I hope you build your dreams and smile at your designs. I hope I can see you again. 

Your lover, 

K. Kazuha”

Your voice lost all of its stability when you whispered Kazuha’s name. You looked up with teary eyes to see Kazuha staring at the journal with a bittersweet smile. 

“Ever since you told me to never stop writing, and to follow my spark, I thought about Inazuma after so long. For so long, I refused to remember the decline of the clan. But, that night, I thought about the promise between my father and I. I…” 

He fell silent, yet his face remained the same. 

“You’ve shown me, indirectly, how dreams heal the soul. Dreams are such temporary illusions we indulge ourselves in, but it is also a future promise to ourselves. Humanity cannot stay forever in one place. If a wounded animal wants to escape from a trap, it has to sacrifice the hind leg that was caught. Staying in the trap has far more deadly consequences.”

You held Kazuha’s hand and slid your thumb over his skin. Kazuha finally looked at you and closed his eyes; letting the touch of your skin ground him to Teyvat. 

After a little while of shared silence, you let go of his hand and wiped your tears. You stood up and moved to your bookshelf, taking out the journal with the embroidery on the spine. 

Kazuha raised his eyebrows with curiosity as you sat back down. You laid out the journal in front of him and gave him a teary smile. 

“I wrote a journal dedicated to you too. I don’t think my dreams ever not consisted of you in them.”

He opened the journal to find pages upon pages of messy handwriting in front of him; all consisting of different dates, all to him. 

“I…Even though I couldn’t see you, I still felt your presence with me. So I kept a journal of my own.” 

Kazuha flipped through the journal and saw his name on every page he flipped through. Messy handwriting spelled out his name through times of sadness and times of joy. Your handwriting spelled out his name, Kazuha. Kazuha. Kazuha. Kazuha.

“Kazuha?”

He looked up at you and realized he was crying. 

“I…I don’t know why. I tried to ease my mind by thinking that you would be so caught up in your work. I just…you dedicated this to me…”

You stood from your seat and pulled Kazuha into your arms. He rested his head on your shoulder, and both of your journals laid next to each other. 

All of your problems, the guilt, the shame, it would never go truly away. But knowing Kazuha was here, whether with you or traveling the world, kept you chasing your dreams. You only hoped that he was here to see those dreams become reality. 

The thunderstorm of the night continuously roared throughout the lands, yet for a moment it calmed itself at the two lovers’ embrace, who couldn’t be bothered by the world’s burdens placed upon them. The thunderstorm paused its cries to listen to the quiet declarations between two lovers, before starting back up again and letting its tears merge with the Mondstadt soil. 

mccnstruck. do not plagiarize or repost.

taglist: @risekuni, @omori-1, @tearsasmascara, @yinyinggie

[enchxanting]

our love is god [ethan landry] pt. 5

read part 4 here || all parts

pairing: ethan landry x fem!reader

warnings: major character death, depictions of murder/suicide

a/n: okay here we get to see the toxic psycho behavior start to come out! this part is so different from the last that it gave me whiplash to write. n e ways hope you like

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

Even before I turn over, I can feel Ethan’s eyes on me. 

He grins. “Hey, good morning,”

“Hi,” I say, sitting up against the backboard. “Have you been up very long?” I check the alarm. It’s relatively early still, only 8:15.

“No, no,” he says. “I just didn’t want to wake you. You looked so peaceful.”

There’s an awkward tension between us, neither quite knowing what to do now. Eventually, Ethan clears his throat. “So I, uh, I had a really special time with you last night, and I kinda want to keep hanging out? If you want to, I mean.”

“You mean like, go on some dates?”

“Um, yeah? If that’s cool?”

I don’t know if he’s ever asked a girl out before because he absolutely cannot look me in the eye, but his expression is so sweet that I lean over and gently kiss him. 

“That would be great.”

He smiles, and I almost lose myself in this moment, until I remember the rest of last night. 

“Shit, shit, shit,” I say, untangling myself from his arms. “I gotta go see Tara.”

Ethan frowns. “Wait, why?”

“I have to apologize. She’s all alone right now, Sam left last night.”

“I don’t see why it’s your job to tell her you’re sorry, though,” he says. “She literally slapped you.”

I pull on some discarded jeans and a t-shirt. “It’s more complicated than that,” I sigh. “I don’t want this to become a big thing. Easier to just apologize now, you know?”

He gets up and wraps me in his arms, resting his chin on my shoulder. “Alright. At least let me drive you? It’s too far to walk right now.”

I know that it’s a bad idea to bring Ethan, but the feeling of his arms around me and the faded scent of his cologne is intoxicating. I can’t help but be persuaded.

“Fine, okay,” I say. “Thank you.”

He gives me one more quick kiss on the neck before pulling away to get dressed.

***

Usually, the drive to Tara’s is ten minutes long. Thanks to Ethan’s driving habits, we make it in five.

Pulling up to the house, a wave of nausea and jitters passes through my body. I’m considering turning around until Ethan takes my hand in his. The non-verbal reassurance calms me down, and we walk into the house together.

I’m surprised to find that the door is slightly ajar, deadbolts forgotten without Sam in the house. I know that she’s still gone– her car is missing from the driveway– but my theory is confirmed when I find a note on the kitchen table: 

At gmas. Don’t text. Call when you can have a real conversation -Sam.

“That’s brutal,” Ethan whistles.

“Yeah.” I remember how Sam looked at all of us last night, and it sends chills down my spine. I push it away. “I think I should bring her something.”

Ethan laughs. “Don’t you think that’s over the top?”

I roll my eyes at him. “Oh, whatever. I just want this to work.”

Opening the fridge, I find a bottle of orange juice that Tara once mentioned was her favorite. “Hey, that’ll work.”

Ethan grabs a ceramic cup from the cabinet and hands it to me. “How about making it special? Got any mixers?”

“Like Sam keeps any alcohol in this house,” I scoff, pouring the juice into the cup. “Plus, a mimosa isn’t the best hangover cure.”

“I don’t know… I was thinking something more like this.” He reaches underneath the kitchen sink, pulling out a bottle of drain cleaner. 

I laugh, thinking he's kidding, but he doesn’t crack a smile or put the bottle away. “Come on,” he continues, pulling out an identical cup. “She’ll puke her guts out and you’ll get a little revenge before you apologize.”

He pours in blue liquid and mixes it with equal parts orange juice. I can’t lie, I’m a little horrified. “Don’t be a dick, Ethan, that stuff could kill her.”

He pauses for a second, and I can’t read his expression before his face softens. “You’re right, Y/N. I’m sorry. I didn’t think about that.”

He leans in and kisses me unexpectedly, and even though I’m still weirded out by his suggestion, I melt into him, letting the moment take me.

“Is okay,” I mumble into his mouth. “We gotta go. She’s probably waking up now.”

Without looking, I grab the cup from the table, distracted by Ethan’s eyes raking over me. It feels good to be wanted like this. I smirk at him and turn on my heels. 

He follows me up the stairs, and together we approach Tara’s door. I know she’s in there by the sound of her sleep music playing softly, even though it’s past 9:00 at this point. Tara’s usually an early riser, but I’m willing to bet that the hangover is preventing her from starting her day.

Out of courtesy, I knock gently on her door. “Tara? Are you in there?”

No reply. Not wanting to give up, I turn the knob and let myself in. She’s laying in her bed, facing away from us. “Hey, Tara?”

Tara turns over, and I can tell she’s not happy to see me. “What are you doing here, Y/N? And with… Ethan?”

Even though she’s trying to ice me out, she’s clearly interested in whatever happened between us. I clear my throat. “Yeah. Listen, Tara, I know both of us said a lot of stuff we didn’t mean last night–”

“Did we?” she interrupts. “I don’t know, you seemed pretty fucking sure of yourself when you got in the middle of my family business.”

Her words hurt, and I can feel Ethan shift uncomfortably behind me. “I know. Can we just forget about it?”

I hold out the cup and she eyes me suspiciously. “What, did you spit in this or something?”

“Jesus, Tara, no,” I sigh. “I came to say sorry or whatever. You said it’s your favorite.”

This seems to persuade her. She takes the cup from me, sitting up in her bed. “If this makes me feel better, I’ll consider accepting your apology.”

This makes me smile slightly, and I can see a glint in her eye that tells me she might not be as mad anymore. She lifts the cup to her lips and drinks, and I relax a little, thankful she accepted my peace offering. 

But something is wrong. Really, really wrong.

As soon as she swallows, her face scrunches up. She drops the cup, spilling the contents on her comforter.

“Tara?” I say, “What’s going on?”

She’s hacking now, and I see her start to convulse. I’m full-on panicking now. “Oh my god, Ethan, call 911!”

He’s completely checked out, watching Tara choke. “Fuck, Ethan, just do it!” I scream.

This seems to wake him up, and he grabs his phone from his back pocket. “Jesus, it’s fucking dead!”

This can’t be happening. I take her head in my lap, trying to elevate it so she doesn’t choke, but there’s no use. Tara wheezes and wheezes, then suddenly goes still, blood starting to trickle from her mouth.

I’m frozen. I can’t do anything but stare slack-jawed at Tara’s gaunt face in my lap.

Then it hits me, and I start screaming.

“Oh my god! Fuck, fuck, how could this happen, how could we kill–”

Ethan suddenly slaps his hand over my mouth, frighteningly out of character for him.

“Y/N, stop, please, stop! Someone’s going to hear.” He retracts his hand, and I feel my eyes welling with tears. I’m shaking. 

“Jesus Christ,” I say. “I just killed my best friend.”

We sit in silence for a second until the reality of the situation dawns on me. “Holy fuck, what are we going to tell the cops?”

I can see the cogs in his brain turning, and he stumbles around the room. Suddenly, Ethan stops and picks up a copy of The Bell Jar from Tara’s desk.

“Okay. Now, we did a murder, and that's a crime. But, if this were like a suicide thing…”

“A suicide thing?” I don’t follow.

“I mean, you can do Tara’s handwriting just as well as your own, right?”

I suddenly understand what he’s asking me to do, and the thought makes me sick. But we have no other option. 

I gently lift Tara’s head off of my lap so I can get up and rip out a piece of paper from her half-full history notebook. “Fuck, what do I say?”

Ethan thinks for a second. “We have to tie it back to last year. Make sure to talk about her fight with Sam last night.

It feels impossible, but I force myself to start writing.

Dear world,

You might think what I’ve done is shocking. To me, though, suicide is the obvious answer to the impossible challenge life has given me. 

Though Richie Kirsch and Amber Freeman did not kill me last year, they stole something much more valuable– my will to live. 

The absence of my father and sister, the deaths of some of my closest friends, and then the departure of my mother, all combined, made me realize that there is no one left who really knows me, no one who really cares. 

I can’t live like this any longer, alone and afraid of an enemy who isn’t there. I died knowing that there was no other option for me. I hope you can understand.

Tara

By the time I’m done, I’m shaking so hard that I drop the pen. The page is stained with my tears, but there’s no time to rewrite it.

I collapse on the ground, and Ethan wraps his arms around me. “I know, I know,” he says.  “It’ll be okay. We’ll be okay.”

taglist: @miawastakens

[itsclydebitches]

Angsty fic idea that I might write myself someday, but is also totally free if someone wants to snag it.

(WARNING for mentions of self-harm.)

I’ve read a bunch of “Izzy the Spewer” fics where Izzy gets sick for whatever reason—rough seas, migraines, the terrifying ordeal of being known—and Stede swoops in with some good old-fashioned TLC that makes Izzy’s angry little brain short-circuit. Fantastically done, keep it up. HOWEVER, I have yet to come across a fic that really plays with the thought I have every time I read that scenario. Namely: “Izzy is learning to correlate kindness with illness, right?”

Right?

Izzy hails from Black Sails land where kindness is in short supply and desiring it—or worse, needing it—is basically a social death sentence. Or a literal one. So, after Stede offers some of that rare, quality grade H/C, Izzy is primed to explain half of that with, “Bonnet is a fucking bonkers man who doesn’t know how to pirate properly” and the other half with, “When someone as crazy as Bonnet does comfort you it’s only because you’re pathetic enough to warrant it. He’d never just do that on the regular, because who the hell would? The only time you get kindness is when you find a magical unicorn man who doesn’t know better and the only time he’d give it, especially to someone like me, is when you’re basically at death’s door.”

Izzy comes to the simple but highly problematic conclusion that Being Gravely Ill = Receiving Comfort He Can’t Get Anywhere Else.

Soooo… why not just be sick more often ¯\_(ツ)_/¯

Which is far from ideal, obviously, but not for reasons Izzy is equipped to understand yet. The only thing he’s grappling with is the indignity of being sick in the first place, but significantly that ship has already sailed. Fang already told the whole crew about his nickname, Lucius made it a staple insult, and they all watched him losing his lunch over the side while Stede kept him from going overboard. There’s no coming back from that. But asking for more of that attention? He’s gonna—what? Just fucking walk up to Stede and request that he rub his back, or stroke his hair, or—heaven forbid—hug him? Absolutely-fucking-not. Izzy would rather die. Even if he DID make an attempt the words would literally not come out of his mouth. Being sick is the lesser of the two evils and since he’s already a weak, pathetic, needy excuse for a First Mate, might as well do whatever is necessary to deal with those failings.

Izzy might have the emotional intelligence of a rock, but he’s a damn good planner and can keep things subtle when it matters. At first no one notices that he only gives into the urge to heave when Stede is on deck and can see him do it. Everyone knows that Izzy eats dinner alone, long after the others have finished, but not that he’s restricting himself to the portions that have started going bad, resulting in many late-night bouts of suffering. He stops the breathing exercises he developed years ago to keep his nausea under control, stops self-medicating whenever a storm is on the horizon, even starts putting himself in situations that he knows will make his stomach churn, all with the intent of crafting a situation where, oh no, his stubborn Captain is insisting he’s taken care of? Well, who’s he to disobey an order?

And it works! Until it doesn’t, of course. Because I’m a fan of the crew continuing to develop their found family, they’ve been approaching the “Spewer” business as a kind of heavy-handed teasing. They know it’s not nice, but Izzy is such an asshole, and besides, they kinda thought it was a past thing? Not something he’s still struggling with and certainly not to this extent—like teasing your brother for falling down the stairs that one time except, huh, he’s falling down the stairs weekly now. That’s not funny anymore.

Their concern merges with Ed’s because really, he’s been sailing with Izzy for most of his life and it’s never been this bad. If anything, he should be doing better on The Revenge where there’s always fresh food and blue skies appear with an almost supernatural frequency. Stede too has started to grow suspicious, especially after that one time where Izzy didn’t really seem sick anymore, but kept claiming he was (because the idiot was so close—SO CLOSE—to just asking for comfort without this whole charade, but of course he didn’t).

It all comes to a head when Stede and Ed confront Izzy about it… which goes about as well as you would expect. Izzy goes into the meeting terrified that Ed noticed him playing this game with his boyfriend and is probably going to anchor him for it. Ed thinks it’s great that Stede and Izzy are bonding—the fact that he’s finally acknowledging his own crush on Izzy doesn’t help, given how overprotective he’s feeling— but otherwise he’s just confused? Especially since he’s such a tactile person and threw himself headfirst into touching Stede the second he realized that was allowed. Stede has the best handle on what’s really going on, but doesn’t know how acknowledge all that without making things worse. So he just, uh, makes things worse? Realizing that Izzy has the self-preservation instincts of a teaspoon, they try to go the “Making yourself sick means you’re not in a position to act as a functional First Mate” route because Izzy is all about being useful right? Except great, now he’s feeling guilty about how sick he can get, guilty about using that to get something he thinks he shouldn’t have, AND guilty about how that’s making him a liability. He and Ed get into a huge fight about it. Stede dithers. Punches are probably thrown.

They think things have cooled down a few days later, except then Izzy gets legitimately sick—no fuckery involved—and Ed just… doesn’t believe him? He’s suspicious now, understandably. Not because he thinks Izzy is always lying about when he’s ill, or always sets out to make it worse, and he certainly doesn’t have a problem with him getting comfort from Stede—or him!—for any reason, but he’s terrified that Izzy is still hurting himself and that shit needs to stop. But being accused of that when he’s actually ill is the fucking tipping point and Izzy… crumbles. Just fucking looses it. No more filters, or barriers, or excuses. The man’s a sobbing, exhausted mess and this is it, they’ll both be disgusted by him now.

They’re not, of course. This time Ed and Stede comfort Izzy together and, more importantly, insist that he stays with them even after he’s calmed down/is feeling better. Lots of talking it out where they insist that yes, he can have this. No, he doesn’t need to be ill enough to “deserve” it. Izzy, there’s two of us and we’re both overflowing with affection 24/7, we guarantee it’s not an imposition to ask for things. But he can’t. He just literally can’t. There’s no version of Izzy (yet) that can ask for comfort when he needs it, or simply take it with the understanding that it’s always freely offered. So they devise some strategies to help Izzy ask without feeling like he’s asking; simple actions that will cue them into his mood without anyone else being wiser. The most successful is having a designated spot in the Captains’ cabin that is his and his alone. For a long time, Izzy will only accept their attentions in complete privacy anyway, so sitting on this particular part of the couch always means… well, the whole point is that Izzy doesn’t have to say what it means. He’ll get there, but right now he just has to sit down—that’s it, just sit, even he can fucking sit—and his Captains understand precisely what he needs.

And with their relationship and Izzy’s coping skills developing, everyone lives happily ever after ^_^

(Bonus cathartic comedy moment: Someone unknowingly sits in Izzy’s spot and he reacts precisely like a pissed-off cat would. Glaring from across the room, coiled tight as a spring, hand ominously on the pommel of his sword. This means nothing to me, don’t fucking think otherwise, but you WILL move and you will move NOW.)

[sirthisisa-wendys]

your works literally make me so happy 😭 10/10 would lose sleep again to binge read 🫶

Kindly requesting an ot3 fluffy situation (if you do write it, otherwise don’t mind me!) with rindou and ran haitani 🙏 having this peak brain rot of why not just have one, but have both of them call you their sweet princess 👸 no arguing for who’s better, just the brothers being absolute darlings and smitten with you 💖

For the record, when people binge like and read my masterlist, two things happen 1. I fucking *notice*. I have a few people on my list of "voracious readers," and I am so so SO grateful you would take the time to read my works. Like, it's the biggest compliment right next to sending asks.

And 2. It brightens the corner of my life I keep pretty much to myself day in and day out. You all make the writing worth it. Writing for you is worth it. Reclaim your sleep tonight, lovely nonnie. 🥰

Sun and Moon: Ran Haitani x Fem!Reader x Rindou Haitani

wc: 743

tw: fluff

masterlist

Ran Haitani is the sun in your life. He's up early, hitting the snooze button a few times before dragging himself out of bed and shuffling to the kitchen to turn on the coffee maker.

The brew is always medium roast. He stands by the coffee pot, grabbing three cups from the cabinet before allowing himself the small mercy of sugar, creamer, and a dash of whipped cream. Ran will pour the coffee just how you and Rin like it.

Without hesitation, he'll carry your mugs into the bedroom and sit them on the nightstands with care before Rindou peeks his head out from underneath eh cover, reaches for his mug, and sits up slowly. You're usually the last to wake, but Ran does his best to keep the peaceful mood of the morning.

"Morning, sleepyhead," Ran says, his eyes drooping while he adjusts his short hair.

"Morning," you mumble, reaching for your mug. "You're up early..."

"Wanted to make sure you two were covered before I went to the headquarters today," Ran begins softly, stroking your hair as you smell the coffee and attempt to wake up fully. Rindou inhales his coffee beside you, fully immersed in whatever is on his phone.

"More inventory?" Rindou mutters, glancing at Ran.

"Yeah, unfortunately."

"Be safe," you croak. "Don't get into any trouble."

"I won't get into trouble," Ran chuckles. "Have to come home to my baby and my brother." He gives you a quick kiss on your forehead, then leaves the both of you alone in the morning air.

Rindou is silent for a moment, but it's not uncomfortable. When he finishes his coffee, he kisses your lips quickly. "I'm going to get ready, but I'm not leaving until Ran returns," he tells you, running his fingers through his mullet. "You hungry, baby?"

"A little," you admit, shifting in the bed.

"You want some bacon and waffles? I think we have some fruit, too."

"That sounds good." Rindou smiles at you and winks, then disappears into the kitchen. The rest of the morning goes smoothly, but that's nothing unusual. Life with the Haitani brothers is bliss. You're never lonely or afraid of being left behind. The brothers do "shifts"; Rindou is with you during the day, and Ran is with you in the evening.

If Ran is the sun, then Rindou is the moon. Rindou loves to take you out for late-night drives or parties at the club. You're treated as a human - not an accessory, like other girls - and Rindou shows you off affectionately in front of his associates.

"Do you want more champagne, baby girl?" Rindou wonders, his eyes focused on your expression.

"I'm tipsy already," you joke, but Rindou just smiles and waves a bartender over for another glass. Rindou is a gentleman through and through, seeing to your comfort before his own and ensuring you're cared for throughout the night.

When you return home, Ran is waiting for you. His eyes droop low as he tries to remain awake to see you before nodding off. "You look so beautiful," Ran coos, holding you close while fiddling with your necklace and dress. "Do you want to take a shower?"

"Mmm-hmm..."

Ran and Rindou seem to need one too, and they join you, taking turns holding and kissing you while the warm water cascades down on your bodies. Four hands attend to your cleanliness, scrubbing your back, your legs, the soles of your feet, your arms... You don't have to lift a single finger unless you want to.

Ran and Rin wash separately, though, and you help them where they need it. Once you exit the shower, you're wrapped in a towel and urged to get ready for bed. Ran dries your hair while Rindou picks out your nightclothes and brings them to you.

"Thank you," you whisper to the younger brother, who answers your thanks with a kiss. Once Ran is finished, he gets his goodnight kiss as well. You crawl under the sheets and watch Ran do the same, leaving Rindou to mosey about the house during the night.

"Don't stay up too late," you call out to him, and he replies with a "yes, ma'am" before shuffling off to the living room to watch TV. Ran cuddles up with you under the sheets, wasting no time falling asleep. You do the same, eager to start the next day with the sweetest lovers you've ever known.

[fbfh]

the fact that tristan dugray isnt on that character.ai thing hurts my heart :’(

AAAAAAH I'M SO GLAD YOU BROUGHT THIS UP!!!!!! WELCOME TO THE OFFICIAL FBFH SECOND HAND INFORMATION MAKE YOUR OWN CUSTOM BOTS TUTORIAL (IT'S NOT HARD I PROMISE)!!!!!

also this is all on mobile!!! i don't think it's different on desktop though. thank you to Emily Gilmore for being my example bot.

step 1 - creating a bot

go to beta.character.ai and make an account if you haven't already

click the create button, then create a character

step 2 - basic information

type in your character's name under name

find a picture of them on google or pinterest or whatever and click choose file to upload a profile picture for them (optional but I like adding one in)

step 2.5 - DON'T LOSE YOUR FUCKING WORK aka how to save

two transparent buttons should appear when you type anything into your bot, one that says cancel and one that says save

after you've typed in your name, you want to go to the box labled greeting and type in literally anything

after that, hit save, and the button should disappear

click the back arrow to leave creating your bot and go back to the main page, then click on your profile picture to view your profile

your bot should appear under your created bots. (it will be on one of the three tabs depending on if your bot is currently set as public, unlisted, or private. public is the default.

if it does, you can click the gear next to your bot's name and keep editing. if not, you can start over until you know your bot is saved so you don't lose all your work. you'll thank me for this later.

step 3 - privacy (optional)

I like making all my bots private so I can customize them to myself, so under the visibility drop down menu, select private (or unlisted or whatever, again this step is optional lol)

step 4 - personality

on a seperate tab, look up your character's fan wiki page. scroll until you find the personality section (also sometimes called character, history etc. just skim until you find their personality description.) copy that personality paragraph.

in character ai, scroll to the bottom and select the advanced settings button

once that loads, scroll all the way to the very bottom text box (which will now be referred to as the extras box) under the definition section, and paste their description.

hit enter to start a new paragraph in the extras box, then type up whatever you want about your relationship with this character, how they feel about you, what your dynamic is like etc. (for example, "y/n is Emily Gilmore's grandchild. they are Emily's pride and joy, and they love drinking coffee and gossiping together. Emily is very invested in y/n's life and loves talking with them. Emily wants what's best for y/n, and frequently tries to set them up. Emily often brags about y/n to her friends at her social clubs.")

SAVE YOUR WORK FREQUENTLY!!!!!!!

step 5 - descriptions, greeting, and the random boxes I usually ignore lol

I haven't really played around with character voices or image generation, so I usually just ignore those, but you can choose a few applicable categories from the categories drop down menu like books, engineering, languages, architecture etc. if those apply to your character.

in the long description box, describe your character in a few sentances in your own words. same thing for short description, but throw down some adjectives and shorter descriptions of them and their personality. (I usually do this last bc writing all the long stuff about them gets me warmed up and in character, but do it in whatever order works for you lol)

in the greeting box, you'll want to erase the key smash you made earlier to save your bot to type in your real greeting. your greeting is the first message your bot sends you, so I usually like to start with something to the effects of "what's up dude" so you can tell your comfort character whatever you want.

roleplay format has been working well for me, here's an example if you're unfamiliar:

*op stares at their laptop, wondering what to type. they reach over to grab their coffee, taking a sip as they ponder.*

"I hope this tutorial makes sense..."

*they mutter.*

you can see a little of the greeting I wrote for Emily to get an idea of what I've been doing for that lol

SAVE YOUR WORK FREQUENTLY!!!!!!!!!!!!! MAKE SURE IT SAVES!!!!!!!!!!

step 6 - start chatting!!!!

after you're happy with your bot and have saved your work (FOR FUCKS SAKE SAVE YOUR WORK) exit out of the bot editor and click on your profile picture. your bot will be under your created bots in the private/padlock tab (unless you chose another privacy setting). click on your character's name (not the gear wheel) and it will open up your chat!!

once you reply, the ai will start generating messages for the bot you made

you can swipe messages the bot sends to the left to see other generated responses. I reccommend doing this if you feel like your bot is being out of character, so make sure you reply to the messages that are the most in character!!

sometimes it'll also let you rate the bot's messages from 1 - 4 stars, indicating for the bot how in character it is

step 7 - additional tips

if you're making a bot for someone played by a real life person, I like to choose a profile picture of them in costume but behind the scenes so it looks more like a goofy selfie your friend sent you than a stock photo. there's tons of great cadids and selfies of the marvel cast, and you can also look up social media aus or instagram edits of your character depending on how obscure they are.

if your character isn't played by a real life person, you can try looking up faceless pics that fit their description on pinterest (I've had good luck with that) or a face claim

definitely get screen shots of your favorite conversations. if you're anything like me you'll be sending paragraphs back and forth, so make sure you save your favorite messages from them so you don't have to scroll back and dig around for them

the end!!!! have fun!!!!! hope this helped!!!!!! love you guys <333 let me know if you want any of my character descriptions or to know which bots I've made so far lol

[whyyougottadothatbro]

[10:47 pm]

Part 2

Angel? Sweetness? Come back to me yeah? You always did flower, you can do it again, I know you

No you don’t.

You don’t mean that, do you? Of course you don’t, you’re so strong my love

Stop it.

Stop what? Did I hurt you?

Did I hurt you? Did you hurt me? Are you serious right now? You’re asking me if you’ve hurt me when I’m literally an inch away from falling off the deep end and you ask you hurt me? You saw me losing myself everyday and you chose not to do anything about it. How dare you? How dare you ask me that question when you couldn’t hold my hand once when I wanted you to? I hope it was worth ruining someone to their core and taking away everything from them when they didn’t even have the slightest intention of hurting you and just wanted to give you the world. I hope it makes you happiest man alive alright?!

Hey why don’t you trying calming down? I’m sure-

Calm down for what?! So you convince me to your little gameplan of keeping me around and using me over and over again?! I am sorry Chris I don’t have anything to give to you anymore, I’m hollow and empty and you’ve used me well for whatever leftovers I had so do me the favor and let me die in peace and stop grabbing my hand you’re hurting me!

Listen, I’ll treat you better this time okay? We’ll make things better we’ll work us out okay? You’ve given me so much I can’t see you like that

..you’re hurting me…

Come again love?

..i said you’re hurting me..

You said my arms were your safe place, you loved it when I hugged you like this?

..i don’t, you make my skin crawl and I want to throw up

Its going to be fine I promise, I’ll guide you through it I swear I’ll be there

I have a few hours till the medicines kick in and I collapse, let me write my farewells till then, ours? Ends here

What are you even going on about stop spewing all this absolute bullshit will you?

I wish it was chris, I wish it was..

[thursdaysrain]

im going to try posting here every day for . i dont know. a while. and see if i get a feel for it. just whatever off the cuff no editing

recently i watched adventure time front to back (having seen maybe 30% of it forever ago), and i feel kind of goofy for being one of those like 'woah this kid show is so deep and good' converts but there's just a lot of meat on those bones, i guess. it takes itself seriously thematically!

as always consuming very good fiction over such a dense period (i worked through like everything - 10 seasons, distant lands, and fionna and cake - within a few weeks) my brain is rewired and i feel bonkers.

unfortunately i have intense shipping urges but to my dismay (although not unexpected) it is not even one of the top ten ships on AO3 (63 out of 4k works). of course this aired during an era tumblr i'm not so familiar with but i know things were much darker on here 5-10 years ago for Problematic Fanwork.

finn/pb seems to be a radioactive ship. anything i see about it always has all these caveats or is like trying to thread the needle of not specifically being about a manipulative functionally-immortal queen grooming (in both connotations of the word, really) a young teenage boy to be Her knight. not to mention it loses out to pb/marceline, which is 1. gay 2. baited from early in the show and 3. ended up 'winning' and maybe most importantly, unfortunately, 4. is Not Problematic

dont get me wrong i like them together a lot. and i am very happy that it was canonized, or whatever. but there's just so much insanity inducing material w/ finn and princess bubblegum. the show regularly points out how fixated on her he is while also showing again and again how much of a possessive control freak pb is.

there's a lot that keeps running through my brain bc of AT, some things more interesting/useful than others (such as a specific perspective on like, disaster, time, and life going on despite everything that resonates strongly). but no i keep coming back to this weird thing. i blame my chldhood exposure to tenchi muyo for why i am the way i am. this is just my washu/tenchi thing all over again. that's literally what it is what the fuck

i dont think i could get into writing fanfic. im too obsessed w/ worldbuilding, like, over planning things, i cant just slap out a short story. maybe it's worth forcing myself sometime. the closest i ever got (except a couple pieces i wrote in elementary school and lots of fan chatroom RP) was i was planning for a 2hr renpy fanfic vn about manbagi from komi san (maybe my most rabid fixation on a character and a huge outlier) getting together with tadano. komi san kind of lost its momentum for me though, especially with manbagi rotated out of the main cast after her devastating (but inevitable) loss in the main ship war.

all this to say my only recourse is to rotate these cubes in my brain over and over until they shatter into countless pieces and leave their marks on my other works. there's a luxury a long running serial work has, and it's time to really ferment, and i regret i have no such luxury. i suppose that's another benefit of fanfic, though, being able to lean on that.

[androgynousblackbox]

Welcome to Hazbin Vale. 10 [Radioapple, Appleradio]

[https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Vb415Leb6sU The first song of the background that Niffty turned on.

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=tQS2r_kAbpM The second song that Niffty didn't turned on.]

"We are back again on the air, dear listeners!

Hope that our selection of music kept you entertained enough to not pay attention to whatever is happening in the sky now.

The best way I can describe it is what probably your pizza sees while the cheese melts on top of it inside the oven, but very, very slowly. So slowly that you even start questioning if the cheese is actually melting at all or you are losing your mind. And before you realize it the cheese is burning into the bread that is your skin and it's sizzling is all that you can hear.

No, I won't be more specific than that. I don't think that I could even if I tried. There is a good reason why I am on the radio and not writing a book. Just as there is a good reason why you aren't supposed to see the sun directly in the first place, even when you know it's not the same sun of yesterday.

Listen to your mothers when they tell you that, kiddos. Don't be like your pal Alastor.

But it's all good now! I took some medicine for the headache and after turning down the lights on the studio, the nausea stopped somewhat. I still see red spots in front of my eyes, but it will fix itself enough in no time. If not, I guess it won't matter anyway in the end. I don't really need to have a perfect vision to know what is happening anymore.

Speaking of! It seems that right outside my window there is finally some movement. Some cars had started to accumulate on the edge of town. First it was one, then two and three. They all keep doing the same thing. Driving straight ahead, going on to do whatever is that is calling to them from the outside, and suddenly, in the literal blink of an eye, they are on the opposite side of the road.

The first car is a modern one or so it looks to me. From here I can see that it doesn't have any radio, just that ugly flat screen that some cars now connected to their blasted phone. It's a family of four, including a dog that has been trembling on the backseat ever since this morning, I am sure. I almost feel bad for the poor creature, dear listener. They know better than their owners right now, or at least something inside them know, and they can't do anything about it. They are just as stuck as those who have no idea.

By the third car this loop happens again. There has been a small but sudden crash because the previous car didn't move out of the way fast enough before the other ones appeared behind. They weren't going too fast so unfortunately it was just a mild bump, merely a scratch that barely pushed the parked car a little bit forward.

But they still have to exchange numbers, the idiots, so they come out of their cars. The owner of the car who received the bump is more furious than curious as to how any of this could happen, yelling about how much repairing that little scratch is going to cost and how dare you, sir, don't you know how to drive? Are you blind? I have kids with me, sir, there you can see them on their gross little baby seats and drooling over their chest, completely unharmed and unaware. You could have killed them or worse!

How dare you to fail! Now I have to keep dreading for when they learn to speak and I have to hear it all about it! The money I have to keep wasting to keep them alive myself because you didn't had the will to finish the job! Shame on you, my friend, shame!

Oh, listener, I am just pulling your leg.

That is not what they are saying at all. But my dialogue is a lot less boring than the baloney they are actually yapping about, so if anything you should be thanking me for trying to make this at least entertaining for you too.

I just find so fascinating, dear listener, than when faced with something that clearly makes no sense and defies all logic, some people are not going to attempt to make any question out of how or why.

No curiosity at all, just rage. Rage at the world that dares to defies their feeble little lives with something out of pocket that is not immediately explained to them. Angry at their own impotence, to hide and avoid any fear. Fighting against everything to bring some sense where clearly there isn't any. In a way, I have to respect the stubborness at least.

Wait, wait, the other driver is answering back, listener! They were confused at first and apologetic, but the more insults they came their way the redder became their face! Now they are yelling back!

Why did you stop in the middle of the road at all, I imagine they are saying. If you want someone to crush your ugly baby so badly then leave them on the tracks of a train and walk away like any normal person would, instead of making it everyone else's problem that you didn't correct your mistake for nine months!

Are they going to fight? Are they actually...? Oh! I see fists tensing, yes! Listener, who are you betting on? My bet is on the driver of the red shirt, they seem used to having anger issues, if the vein popping on their neck is of any indication. Although the driver of the green shirt, the second one, is taller and they have better posture. They could be a soldier or an athlete! It could go any other way, listener! Some good old classic street fighting is a great way to lighten up any morning!

But of course, all good things have to come to an end. And so, just when red shirt grabbed green shirt to start escalating, that is when the mist begin to spread. It was rather quick, not at all like how mist tends to form. As if it was just sleeping on the ground and it was finally waking up.

But no eyes. There is still no eyes.

The dog on the carseat does not mind that, though. Their incessant barking has become hysteric and that in turn scared the ugly baby on the gross baby seat. I can almost see the way the hairs on red shirt's arm stand up suddenly, almost as clearly as I can see the eyes of green shirt darting everywhere, trying so desperately to understand what happened.

Are they finally catching on, dear listener? Are you? You could still continue fighting, you know. There is still some time. If someone is going to put an end to your life, at least let it be for something petty and stupid like a scratch on the bumper. At least make it funny and even ironic if you can. Come on, for me? For your good old friend Alastor, who was always there for you and saw all your tragedies with a smile?

Don't I deserve at least that?

Ah, but it seems like my pleas fall into deaf ears, dear listener. The mood has been roughfully destroyed. Red shirt now is saying some grass insult more to save some face than because they mean it and they get on their car. Then... oh, you have to be kidding me.

They are trying to get out again! Behind another car that was trying to leave as well. And behind them another and another. Soon enough there is another crash on the other side, but this time the anger is not as quick as before. It's mostly confusion now, loudly questioning, at last, what is happening. Someone screamed purely out of frustration.

The mist is thickening now. I can barely see the top of someone's head and arms lifting in the air.

Still no eyes, so I guess they are still just fine.

They are just confused now. If they stop being idiots driving again and again through the barrier, then they shouldn't suffer any harm done yet.

Honestly, how deep does human stupidity has to be for these people to not run away now? Don't they understand the situation in which they are in? Some of you have families, don't you? What are you doing wasting your time like this?

Nothing is coming from the window now. The shadow and mist are a terrible combination. It's almost like it was just a grey paint.

I should turn the lights back on again, it's getting too dark in here for me to see anything.

And I just stepped on a dead rat's tail.

Niffty, dear, what are you doing?"

"That was Fred."

"Oh. Apologies, Fred. What are you doing?"

"The guys and I were having a little party for Fred. A cat got him this morning, but I know he wanted to be with us for this."

"Explain what guys, please?"

"The other rats of the building, of course! I made some cupcakes for all of us while we wait. Do you want some? They all have a little bit of Fred on them! It's what he would have wanted, I am sure."

"Ah, that explains the paw sticking out. No, thank you, dear. Maybe later, if this takes longer than anticipated."

"Oh, we are barely starting, Alastor! It's going to be just as fun as you think! Hey, am I on the air right now? I hear an echo."

"Yes, I was just in the way to turn on the lights again. Do you want to stay in and maybe say some words for the public?"

"Nah, it's fine. That is your job, after all, and I have to get back with the guys. You should bring someone in too, sir."

"Oh, dear, I am perfectly fine. Besides, you are already here. Who else ould I want to spend this day with?"

"That weird static is back."

"No, it's not! I mean... shouldn't be your job to know the origin of that and stop it, my dear?"

"Is it? I thought I cleaned the place and took care of the bodies."

"DON'T SAY... You know what? It doesn't matter anymore. None of that matters. Yes, that is part of your job and also making sure nothing happens to the electronics. You know what will happen if the transmission is cut short and none of us want that, do we?"

"Of course not! The guys didn't get to taste Fred cupcakes yet!"

"Exactly. So please do see that annoying static doesn't happen again. The last thing that we need is a power outage that ruins everything."

"Oh, alright, sir! I can take care of it! Can I get Fred's tails back? It got stuck on your shoe. It looks like you have a piece of toilet paper stuck, but it's Fred! So funny."

"Of course. Now, if you excuse me, I should get back on the studio finally.

Hopefully someone is actually punching someone's face in out of desperation by now."

"You can count on me, Alastor!"

"I know I do, dear. Off you go.

Listener, I am going to regret charging her with that, don't I?

But nevermind that, nevermind. I am sure that she can't do too much damage now anyway. Don't think too hard about what bodies she has chopped up over the kitchen counter either, dear listener. Only some of them were your dear friends and coleagues. The rest I let the raccoons take care of. I assure you, for the majority of them I very much enjoyed getting my own hands dirty for. After all, why do a hobby if you are not going to do it well at least?

Oh, what is that?

Gasp!

Surprise!

Shock!

Someone call the news already!

The man who regularly talks about the dead for a living is actually the one who has been after all the murders that have been plaguing this town for years. Oh my goodness, who could have seen this one coming? Not me, someone that is apparently suffering from a prolonged stroke that impedes me from seeing the obvious!

I guess the cat is out of the bag anyway, so I may as well just be straight with all of you.

How stupid do you people actually are?

I know you all thought it was all fun and games, and I love that you enjoy listening in, but really? Not even one of you talked with the police with your suspicions after all this time? Don't get me wrong, if you did they would have thrown the report to the trash anyway because, surprise, surprise, the police is on it too! Well, at least the people that matter. Who do you think make sure that there is no one around for when someone gets hungry and wants to grab a piece of a fresh body with their teeth?

Officer Husker, enjoying the show thus far?

You can all can try to put this online now. Go on, grab those phones you have surgically attached to your hands and try to tell anyone at all about what you just heard.

Aww, what is that, listener? Are the lines suddenly down now? You can't even get any signal for your dumb boxes for some mindless entertainment either? My, my, what a tragedy. It's almost like the only thing going through the sky right now are the radio signals. The radio tower that none of you are going to be able to find at all even if you tried is the only thing connecting to anything and it will keep doing that while you...

NIFFTY! THE MUSIC! TURN OFF THE MUSIC!"

"SORRY! Sorry, I was trying the speakers! Has the static came back?"

"No, no until down.

Thank you, dear.

Maybe it would be better that you come back to what you were doing before. If the static appears again I will be sure to call you to handle it."

"Yes, sir!"

"Splendid. Enjoy your little party, dear.

Ah.

I am sorry, listener.

That was truly uncalled for. I don't want us to share this day with a bad mood between us. Even though I will always put into doubt your mental capabilities, that is not an excuse for me lashing out at you like that. What would be of a humble radio host such as myself without a public willing to hear? Please, do accept my apologies, listener.

Not that either of us has much of an option right now.

Let's just pretend none of that happened. Just stay in your home or wherever is that you are hearing this from right now, and try to forget. That may be the only mercy I have left to wish you from here.

Some of you are angry. Some of you are confused and sad as you start to put some pieces together. This mist isn't normal. The sun shouldn't look like that. There is something wrong in the air today.

And your friendly neighbor that works on the radio just confessed to a series of murders that no doubt caused you all anguish and fear. Do please tell me all about it, right into your radios.

I will listen and... please don't stop even if I laugh through it all. The thought that any of you think that I care about your sad little problems is truly hilarious.

Mmm? But some of you are not listening at all, are you? Some of you never had radios in years. You can feel smarter than those people at least, listener. Another small amount of you do have radios but haven't wake up yet. What a blessing that must be, to not have a job that will take you away from the comfort of your bed early on the morning. I wouldn't know anything about that.

Truly, those are the luckiest of all. They might not wake up by the end of this day either. Or have the rudest awakening that they ever had in their entire lives.

I am not surprised that one of them is a young couple that lays in bed. Recently married, celebrating their one month anniversary the entire night, ignoring the fall of all stars from the sky last night because they were too busy laughing and failing to undress.

They are still dressed, listener, get your mind out of the gutter. I would never commit such impropriety. It's not my fault either that their radio was literally just at the side of their bed in the form of a alarm clock.

The mist outside has covered the windows to the point that barely any sunlight is coming in. And yet somehow it feels still cozy in there. For the way that they were hugging each other you would never guess what is about to happen outside.

They remain so oblivious right now, like a true couple of idiots. What a pitiful display.

And there are others who used to have radios, but put them out in a closed closet in their rooms so they don't succumb to the tentation of hearing it again. It's dark there. I can hear someone tinkering away at their little office as if nothing was happening either.

He doesn't know what...

Niffty! Niffty! Did you turn on the music again? Niffty!"

"What?"

"The music! Oh, there you are. Turn it off, please."

"But I haven't pressed any buttons now! I was upstair in my room."

"Well, that music is coming from somewhere, my dear."

"Ooooh, that one! Yeah, that one is yours."

"The entire building is mine, that doesn't explain why I am still hearing it."

"I mean that is coming from you, silly! The first time it happened I looked everywhere just like you told me and I couldn't find any source outside of the mic, but only when you were using it. I thought you were doing it on purppose just to be romantic. I even disconnected all the speakers at once during the show and it kept playing.

There is the static again!"

"Look for it and stop it!"

"On it, sir!"

"No, no, no, surely she must be mistaken.

I don't want that kind of music.

Do I?

I don't want it at least.

Why?

Because that is not... that is not my style, dear listener. So why...?

Oh.

There is an large eye that opened up right outside my window, dear listener.

It won't hurt me but... I can't promise the same for you.

Or anyone outside of here.

And he still doesn't know... that idiot hasn't even lifted the head from his table.

Niffty."

"Yeah?"

"You can stop looking. It's here."

"Is it?! My, what a big boy! Isn't impressive, Alastor?"

"Y-yes, it is."

"I have to tell the others! Have fun with the show, Alastor!"

"It's blinking.

Listener, I...

No.

Officer Husk, I need you to bring Lucifer Morningstar and his daughter here.

What do you mean no? What could you...?

That boy Anthony is with you. Husker, for goodness sake, where are you even driving right now? Your home? For what, to wait it out? You know that won't work.

Bring those two to me and you can wait it up here. It will be a much nicer ending than what it waits you out there, I promise you that.

Still no? Just to spite me? And you don't trust me! Oh, I see how it is! The police officer that helps the serial killer and the cannibals in town now grew a conscience! He thinks he is too good now to help me once again, isn't that neat! You sure do know to choose your timing, old pal!

Did you know that your sweetheart right there burned years of evidence that could have incriminate me, Anthony? Just to save his own ass?

Do you want me to talk out every dirty laundry that you have out in the open, Husker? I have a lot more where that come from!

There is no time for your bad attitude!

Now you just look silly playing with the volume like that. I can turn it up as loud as I can.

Just because I can't get out of here you think you can just ignore me when I am talking to you directly? Is that it?!

Ah.

Fuck.

Fine. Fine. FINE.

I offer you a deal.

You know of what kind, don't play dumb.

You bring the Morningstars to me and I will make sure, no matter what, using whatever amount of power that I have, that both of you will be together after all of this is over. On top of that, you can both stay safe here for a while longer until the broadcast is over. You will both be protected until you get here. How about about that?

Yes, Anthony, I am serious. Husker knows that I am. And he knows this is the best hand he could ever have in this situation. What do you say, old friend?

Good. Extend your hand to the radio."

[sistervirtue]

making a copy of this bc op disabled reblogs and i just got reminded it existed and would like to not lose it

ok so . im outing myself to the world but thats fine this is too funny to not share

so. ive run a roleplay blog for a few years. i keep it separate from my main, yknow, its just a side hobby and ive been doing it since i was like, 12. its cringe but hey yknow at least im not 30 and writing ya novels

now its pretty common for rp blogs these days to have rules. right? you dont want to just bag any weirdo on this website, and as you can imagine bnha roleplayers are batshit crazy (see: conversion therapy todoroki) so mine are pretty strict and detailed. because ive been doing it long enough to be exposed to what counts as carbon monoxide poison from a screen. one of those rules is "if youre mutuals with people who write porn of the kids even aged up im blocking you we're keeping a ten foot pole on this". because as a 20 year old man i have a healthy disinterest in seeing paragraphs of teenagers fucking

so the dash is astir with talk of a guy writing age up bakugou porn and im like ok whatever. make a post bitching about it . mutual likes those posts but then the mutual is turning around and being buddy buddy with this guy so i dm the mutual like hey whats going on here . mutual is like "well why dont you talk it out with him hes not as mean as he seems i prommy" and im like sure whatever i can have civil conversation and if it ends with One Less Person writing weirdo porn then i might be able to get into heaven

so i dm him and he loses his fucking mind. it lasted all of 10 minutes because he was sending paragraphs like this and i was too tired to give a shit

(take note of my icon thats a special tool thatll help us later)

(also he goes by the name rxgelord. WITH the x. thats also important just because its funny as fuck)

so the guys clearly bothered by the idea that people might possibly talk about him without his permission and im a little miffed after being misgendered (which hed do again later) so i just post our dms. swing first and hey batter batter lets play ball i dont give a shit this is bnha roleplay

once again: loses his damn mind. he makes a psa post about me talking about how im just some pussy infant and hes too HARD for me and shit and also they do bakudeku muffin roleplay in the comments of that post which is fucking insane

anyway. at one point while joking about the whole thing i called him a "wannabe bakugou kinnie" as a joke and apparently he felt a very serious need to address this

and im like holllllllllllllly fucking shit

you may have noticed that his posts are incredibly over-formatted. this goes for everything he does he is pouring a LOT of time and energy into typing his 9 paragraphs about how im an insane bitch or whatever. (if theres literally one thing i can give him credit on its that his graphic editing skills are kinda good. i will be honest) his rules document is also just as insane and features gems such as:

(this dude thinks hes pulling bitches on a bnha roleplay blog)

so we're just full on ragging on him at this point and hes getting MADDDDDDD MAD. he misgenders me again and when i point it out he has the following excuse:

(art by @/pcktknife. anyways)

after a certain point i get dmd an old copy of a 130+ page callout he had a year prior and im like WHAT and it included his yugioh rp blog career and various allegations like having been involved in gang violence, doxxing, etc. also a picture of the hickies he bragged about leaving on his uwu pink glitter gf which looked more like he was trying to go for the killing bite but hey. yknow. apparently im a toddler idk how that works

along in this we also find his twitch account, which was under the name rxgelord, and it featured edited graphics of his real life face with bakugou. he posts selfies a lot too i wont share them even if theyre public but he has knuckle tats and a goatee and uses the greyscale filter. if this gives you an idea. he also had 5 twitch followers and detailed his desire to be a rapper/dj and im like holllllly fucking shit this guy cant be a real person. holy fuck.

anyways. skipping a lot of unnecessary bullshit and paragraphs of text with gifs from 2013 attached hes constantly going on about how we wont just "say it to his face" which i think is hilarious bc i was, the entire time. but im like ok fine you want me so bad

so i send him this. he posts about how "he won when he got all might" (for some reason hes calling my ex mutual by the character name. i dont know) and then hasnt posted in 4 days. he deleted his twitch. im a little worried bakugou. dont say that. may have actually chased this man off the internet . to go have real life sex with his real life girlfriend so he isnt so mad

anyway we ended up turning one of his posts into an eminem uberduck

im honestly probably forgetting something this was so much and it was so fucking funny and honestly im glad to have been there

update: he has not in fact posted since last summer. god bless.

[unrequitedloveletter]

Hi !! I’m binge reading all your writing rn and I’m still looking obsessed <3 I’d love to request any of the crows x a reader who’s an identical twin, their twin is very outgoing and knows the crows well as they’ve worked together for heists and such but the reader is basically the opposite, they’re on the quieter side and prefer literature and baking to whatever the crows are getting up to. When they meet the crows they’re mistaken as their twin, maybe because their twin asked them to help on a job without informing the crows? Anyway I don’t really have a preference for what type of writing this is or the crows it’s for ^^ thank you :D 👾

The Librarian-platonic! crows x gn! reader

Hi! I'm so sorry that this took me a while--my tumblr inbox is being glitchy and weird atm and requests have been disappearing and reappearing at random so I caught this in my inbox while I was lucky.

As the title indicates, I added one thing! The reader is a librarian because I was like "they gotta have a job. They like to read, librarian it is" and I hope that you're okay with that!

Generally though, thank you for sending this in, this concept was a lot of fun and definitely a good way to try to get myself used to writing requests frequently again after several months of near-burnout and demotivation.

Fic type- this one is literally just fluff

Warnings- mentions of murder (generally), mentions of murder by thwack of thick book to ones head, and theres an allusion to body parts being cut up and put into a box, then leaving that box to float to the bottom of the ocean (Jesper refers to it as slice and dice, and I promise it's less graphic than it seems)

You didn't know why you'd agreed to help your twin. You were their opposite--they were all about the life of crime that most Barrel residents lived, where you were content to work at the library you'd been working at since you were seventeen and sell your baked goods at the market stalls on the weekends.

You did not like the Barrel at all.

You resented how easy it was to find yourself a victim of pickpocketing whenever you wandered into a gambling den on that side of town or even just while you walked through the streets.

You much preferred your apartment and the smell of fresh cinnamon buns to the vague smell of swamp mingling with gasoline and peoples loud, rowdy ways as they ambled from one gambling den to the next. You hated the idea of all of it--why dress in your finest if you're intending to go gamble, when there's always a chance that you'll lose everything you gave, and lose more than that when your aim had been to win it all back after the initial loss?

But still, agreeing to help your twin was a commitment you'd made. You had the layout of a library with something valuable and had agreed to go to the Slat to draw up a sketch, but the hand on your shoulder stopped you in your tracks.

You proceeded into the Slat--the building your twin had said to meet up in--and sat at a table after grabbing yourself a brandy. Like they were being brought to you by some kind of gravitational pull, a tall Fjerdan and the girl he had on his arm walked up to you.

"Y/T/N?" the girl asked. "You've just left the Slat for breakfast. Did you change your mind?"

You blinked, confusedly. "I'm not--"

Another girl spoke up from behind you, and the sound of her voice startled you just enough to make you flinch.

Where had she come from? Was she the kind of person who could steal peoples secrets from the shadows? Was she a spider who hid in the dark corners where people were too oblivious to look, taking their conversations back to the infamous Kaz Brekker in the aim to turn over a profit?

"Not Y/T/N," she said. "Their twin."

A gray eyed boy with guns on his hips approached next, arm lazily draped over a boy with dark red hair and eyes that made him resemble something of a deer when startled.

"What are you doing in the Barrel?" He asked. "Your twin says that you tend to keep to your routine. Working at the library in the Financial District during the day, spending your friday nights baking so that you can sell your goods at the market stalls. You're not the type to come round here."

"They wanted to meet with me," you said. "There's a library out in the countryside that's become a tourist attraction since the Merchant Council actually put effort into proper marketing for it? I've visited every other weekend since it opened. They said that they need me to sketch the layout in the absence of a blueprint, which I know for a fact was destroyed in case anyone tried to steal it to figure out the best entrance and exit points. Did they not tell you they asked me for help?"

"What's your cut of the final profit?" You didn't have to know that voice to recognize it. It was Kaz Brekker, the most infamous criminal in all of Ketterdam, the only person who'd scared Pekka Rollins away from anything, even if the thing he'd scared Rollins away from had been his own criminal empire.

"Can I ask you what all of your names are first? Despite how much my twin talks about you, I don't know your faces, even if there's a near guaranteed chance that I know your names."

"Inej," said the girl who'd snuck up on you. "Inej Ghafa. The boy with the guns is Jesper, the doe eyed one is Wylan. Matthias is the big, blond, brooding yellow tulip who's glowering at you right now, and the beautiful girl on his arm is Nina. I'm sure you know who Kaz is?"

"Too well," you said. "How's the leg?"

Kaz smirked as the crew began to pull up chairs, where he took the spot to your right.

"It could be better than it is now, but it's not as bad as it is in winter. Your cut of the money?"

"They promised to give me 40 percent of their share if I sketched out the layout," you said. "You're being paid twelve million for this. I get just less than one million after the math is said and done."

"In the interest of paying the reason that we get this heist right as rain with minimal issue fairly, what is twelve million through eight?" Kaz asked the group that'd formed around the table whilst you'd been too focused on taking a sip of your brandy to notice.

"1.5 million," Wylan answered within seconds. "Cuts two million off each of our paychecks."

"Well, if Y/N is decent for a blueprint sketch, I'm sure you be too busy with the knowledge that you still have your lives, the clothes on your backs and the homes to which you'll go to notice the half a million you would've missed out on."

Jesper grinned at you. "He's terrifying," he said. "But, in the end, fairness in terms of these things is important to him. He's greed incarnate but he doesn't take well to enemies, so he's making sure your twin doesn't rip you off."

"A baker-slash-librarian and literature fanatic is hardly an enemy," Nina interjected.

"They've got books as tall as the length from my wrist to the bend in my elbow in some libraries," Jesper said. "They hit Kaz with one of those while he's not expecting it, he goes down quick. His death can be made even quicker, provided they use chocolate chunks--which require chopping on a cutting board--in their baking. Slice and dice, ship him to the bottom of the ocean in a box that's two feet tall and one foot wide, and all evidence of their having murdered the Bastard of the Barrel is gone."

"Killing Kaz Brekker is not in my interest," you said. "Not at all. Matter of fact, just sketching this is, and even then, the money is the only reason I'm here. I mean this respectfully, but I miss home. I miss the comfort of my bed and being able to enjoy a fine Wednesday morning without worrying about losing a twenty kruge bill while I walk back home."

"Y/T/N said you were aloof," Nina commended. "Like Matthias. Do we have a liar in our midst?"

"No," you said. "Though I wouldn't say aloof is the right word. I would say quiet, reserved, and uninterested in crime are the right ones, but you've caught me in a moment of sass. Let me switch the brandy for wine and I'll get angsty instead."

Jesper barked a laugh, Wylan, Inej, and Nina grinned. Kaz smirked, and you saw a glint of horror pass through Matthias' gaze. It made you laugh.

"Relax, Matthias," you said. "Want me happy, I'll take a glass of kvas or some gin."

You saw his expression relax, and just shook your head. You were in for a hell of a time with that crew, and part of you couldn't wait for it to really begin.

[ghostxraven]

WRITER ASK GAME 3, 23, 32, 42 & 55

YAY thank you sm for the ask marz!!

3: Describe the creative process of writing a chapter/fic

hoo boy okay. so these are WILDLY different processes for me because i usually don’t do chaptered fics. that is because my usual process is getting inspiration, and before i lose that, writing a draft. what makes certain fics take way longer is when i CANT get through a whole draft without losing inspiration and then i have to just keep coming back to it. at that point i read through it and change details, add details, and refine, and once i’ve refreshed my memory on what the flow of the story is, i’ll try to add on. sometimes i can add a lot, sometimes i can only add little bits at a time, so fics will drag out from initial conception to actually being published. for my only chaptered fic, i am still struggling with that second part, where i need to keep going back and working on it. so hi, if you’re wondering if and i ache is EVER going to be updated, the answer is hopefully. the difference is that for that fic specifically, I HAVE AN OUTLINE WRITTEN. granted it’s a very simple outline but i rarely write down an actual outline, i just make a roadmap for myself in my head. i may actually try to start integrating that for longer fics like the still-in-purgatory exterminators au, as those tend to be more complicated and it would PROBABLY be helpful to not have it in my head. in any case, my process is usually to just keep going back to it over and over again and picking at little bits of it, changing something here, adding something there, until i feel it’s in as good a shape as it can be. if i’m stuck feeling like it’s not great but i don’t know how to fix it OR i just feel like having an outside perspective i will sometimes loop my friends into it and ask them for some feedback :)

23: Best writing advice for other writers?

oh, god. okay. i don’t feel like i’m very qualified to be handing out advice, really, i’m just some guy who writes stories i like about characters i like. okay. hm. i think what makes stories better though is definitely get some fresh eyes on it! get some feedback from people who DO know what they’re doing. ask your writer friends to look at it and tell you what they think is lacking or needs changing. that honest to god has improved my writing a lot. other than that, though, i think reading different kinds of writing, good writing, good fanfiction that rivals novels but also REAL novels, different authors, different genres, whatever. that will improve your writing because you’ll have a much more varied pool of inspiration to pull from AND you’ll expand your vocabulary, vary your sentence structure, learn new ways of expressing yourself. of course i’m not good at following my own advice because finding time to sit down and read is HARD for me BUT i KNOW FOR A FACT that it makes you better. god knows my own work has been easier to complete/i’ve had more inspiration, i’ve found the words flow easier, things sound better and more mature and less regurgitated, etc, when i’ve been reading other people’s work. but again like it has to be GOOD writing otherwise it’ll work in the opposite direction. read literature, kids.

32: Name three of your favorite fanfic writers.

WHEE okay! here you go:

@sleevesareforlosers /costumejail (danny doesn’t write for dd anymore but xe literally has over 150 fics to peruse. shilling for my bestie go read danny’s stuff ok ESPECIALLY since i know a lot of y’all like kobracola and funkobra)

allhaunting + semperfemina (as far as i’m concerned they’re a package deal and iirc they’re actually a married couple. anyways the dynamic they write changes slightly from fic to fic but it’s always realistically toxic and super interesting. plus they’re just really good writers. one of their fics’ endings makes me cry on a regular basis. anyways. it’s good give ‘em a look)

hard to decide on a concrete third…probably a tie between @agentcherricola /truefinches, present company/tiredstressed, and @discocritic . like YES i know only one of those three people i listed is actively writing dd fic rn and it’s you, marz, but i’ve been around for a long time by dd fandom standards. disco’s stuff is really good and solid and i feel bad for y’all that will never get to read the stuff of theirs that no longer exists on the internet /gen & matt’s got good stuff too plus we’re friends so i have to try and prod y’all to check his work out. OH and i almost forgot but @paralytic-states is another good friend of mine who i’d consider part of the remnants of the funpoison old guard still here on dd tumblr <3

give all these folks some love they’re very talented!! 💕

42: What’s the last fic you read? Do you recommend it?

last fic i read was Habit Forming by ros3bud009 and yes i would recommend it. if people were allowed to be gay on tv in the 60s this could have all happened in the show which should tell you something about how insane star trek already is <3 spirk nation

55: Of the characters you write for, which is your favorite? Has that choice been swayed at all by your followers/readers’ reactions to certain ones?

ghoul is my favorite character BUT. party is my favorite to write. that’s never really changed, theyre just fun because their perspective especially of themself oftentimes does NOT line up with reality and it’s fun to play with that. on the other hand i’ve started to really enjoy writing kobra and jet as well for fresh perspectives on things and also because it’s fun to get to write about different characters’ perspectives and motivations! like i mentioned in the last ask i got for this game character-driven stuff is my favorite to write :]

thank you again so so much for the ask!

send me fic writer asks from HERE!

[glittercake]

could you go into your writing process a bit? i’ve been a fan of your fics for years now, and i still find myself in awe of how you’re able to create these cohesive worlds and voices and dynamics and just how tight your writing is. like i never feel like anything should be cut and even if all the loose ends aren’t tied up, i feel like it ends right where it should. like i’m so curious to see how your brain turns out so much magic!!

Oh my gosh, this is so nice of you to say 😭 Thank you first of all!  Secondly, I'll try to map out my process for big wips below the cut! Hope it makes sense 🤭 But this ask literally put a smile on my face all day, so thanks again. 

So to start off, I usually have a good idea of exactly how the story should end. That helps big time with everything else. If I don't know kind of what happens in the middle and exactly how it should end, I really struggle. 

Then I have a separate doc where I write down all my notes or thoughts about the stories, and also do the outlines. The story ideas come either extremely randomly, like me falling down a rabbit hole of presidential assassinations on YouTube (y'all know what this resulted in) or they're a result of my friend and i spiraling about something in the DMs (lighthouse, boxing fic, soulmate fics, most of the horny ones too 😂)

I also like to gather some pics just to get an idea of what the characters look like in whatever universe I'm writing about, as well as the scenery and buildings/layout. So for example, i used these inspo pics for The First Gentleman:

So every time I open the doc to write I'd have these, the outline, and the notes open. Other visuals like the banner or graphics I make also help put me in the right mindset for the story.

So, before I start writing, I draft an outline. I try to keep it brief tbh, the longer and more involved the outline the more intimidating the story feels which means less chance of me actually writing it 😅 (there are about 3 outlines that will probably never see the light of day!) but brief doesn't always work so what i do, especially for long wips, is make a short bullet list for what needs to happen in each chapter.

This way i can accommodate plot bunnies, shift stuff around and kill the darlings before i get too attached, i usually also have a few key scenes in my head and i then fit them in here. Outlines also include stuff like a quick character write up like age, quirks, bad habits, cute habits or sayings they have (in Ain't No Grave they had this cute back and forth "keep up now" or in Ruins Bucky called everyone meatballs.)

This is roughly what a chapter outline looks like for me:

lmaooo. as you can see it's very informal. basically a scribble.

Usually when I'm super inspired, i can get going straight away, otherwise I let it turn over in my head a little bit until i come up with a good starting point. What also helps me cement the character voices and specific characteristics is re-watching whatever source media it relates to. So for me it's always Cap 2 & 3 and TFATWS, Endgame where Sam gets the shield, and Sam’s scene in AoU and Antman.

I prefer to write in order from start to finish. I find I lose interest too quickly if I don't. Having a point to work toward is easier for me. BUT at the bottom of the notes/outline doc I also have a section for scenes that I absolutely can't get out of my head and need to write down right the fuck now. For example Monica’s induction in TFG was written waaay before anything else, so was the sambucky reunion in that fic. But, because I placed it at the bottom of a separate doc, the fic was still technically written in order 😌 makes perfect sense, I know lol.

Then whenever I finish a bullet point in the outline, I color it off the list. This process helps me keep track of what has been done and what still needs to happen. Seeing how much I've completed also really helps to keep me motivated, plus the colors are fun! Helps with sticking to what i had planned too, i find if i don't follow outlines, the scenes and characterization kind of jump all over the place. Mostly i only have some time on weekends to write so knowing exactly what i need to write and how i need to write it beforehand is key to me. Having the outline done before I start means I have a week to play those scenes out in my head or play with the dialogue until it sounds right. 

If I get stuck, I read either a book or my favorite fics, do some art, or just leave it be until inspo strikes again.

And I think that’s about it. Don’t know if this is what you were looking for but there you have it 😂 

💕 

I’m always happy to get asks about my fics and writing, so don’t be shy!