#and then you’re all gonna be in for my much more accurate detail fics

[obsessiveagony2point0]

Similarities

Edwin and Dream share something in common. Something more than a love of books.

⚠️❓ - Possible Trigger Warning

[ficlet contains mentions of fear/anxiety and being afraid of small spaces/claustrophobia]

•—-•—-•—-•—-•

Dream didn’t talk about his imprisonment much.

It was said mostly in passing, as a way to explain why he hadn’t met Hob when that story was told, but the how and why and other details had never been told.

Hob, of course, knew. He knew what had happened to Dream as the Being had told Hob everything. So, when he reminisced about the past, which he often did, Hob never talks about those details. That was for Dream to talk about and Dream alone, when he was ready.

No one ever expected or anticipated that the day Dream would be ready to tell someone else about it, it would be in a chaotic, noisy pub.

Dream, Edwin and Charles were loitering around The New Inn, as they usually did when it was absurdly busy and Hob needed to jump in and lend a hand.

Edwin was at the bar, reading a book Dream had produced from his library in the Dreaming, while Charles was trailing closely behind Hob, asking questions and knowing no one else could see him while Hob, who could see him, talked away.

In the beginning, the customers would ask Hob if he was ok, concerned that maybe he was working too hard and was slowly losing his sanity, but he would just flash them a big grin and say, “I’m alright. Just talking to a ghost.”

They stopped asking.

Dream was perched next to Edwin by the bar, sipping on a glass of white wine that never seemed to grow to room temperature no matter how long it sat there. He wasn’t paying much attention to Charles’ mischief or to Hob’s multitasking chaos.

Instead, he was keeping an eye on Edwin.

If you passed a quick glance at the young spirit, you wouldn’t notice anything amiss. Just a boy, casually reading his book, trying to dive into the pages and words.

But Dream knew better.

Edwin may have had the book open, but in the hour they’d been sitting there he had barely gone through 5 pages. His gaze may have been trained on the inked words in front of him, but his eyes showed that his mind was elsewhere. His jaw was tight, his shoulder’s stiff, and Dream could see a small tremor in his hands where they gripped the edges of the book.

Dream recognized this look. The look of fighting the rough waves as you tried to stay afloat, trying not to sink and drown. He himself had to tread through those rough waters until they settled.

Sometimes, he still had to.

“You do not have to read the book if you are not enjoying it.” Dream said before bringing the glass of wine to his lips.

Edwin blinked, the fog in his eyes dissipating as he looked at Dream. “I am.”

Dream raised an eyebrow. “Are you, though, Edwin Payne..?”

Edwin opened his mouth, closed it, looked back at the book, and then shut it softly before whispering, “No…”

Dream hummed.

“It’s not that it’s not a good book.” The young spirit said quickly as to not offend the Prince of Stories. “I just…”

“Are currently unable to enjoy it.” Dream finished. “Your mind is…occupied. By feelings and images of the past.”

Edwin looked again at Dream, eyes wide. “How did you know?”

“It is not often I find myself understanding how one may feel.” Dream said softly as his thumb ran up the curved glass. “It is even more rare that I understand because I have gone through a fairly similar experience myself.”

Edwin stared at Dream, who was staring at his white wine with furrowed brows. He realized, with surprise, that Dream was very much referring to his own imprisonment. “You’re…well…you’re you. How could you possibly have gone through what I have?”

Dream’s eyes hardened, growing dark. “Endless may not be able die like most creatures do…but we can be captured and hurt through the use of the occult.” White stars glanced at Edwin. “Humans often meddle with things they do not understand. You know this to be true.”

Edwin was silent for a while, turning his attention back to the book that laid on the bar counter. He brought a hand up to stroke the velvet cover and traced his fingers over the gold lettering.

Perhaps…Dream could truly understand…

“I thought what I experienced in Hell would be the trigger to this fear…” Edwin whispered after silently gathering his thoughts, his hands dropping to his lap. “But…instead…what triggered it the first time was a dark basement. It wasn’t until it happened a second time I realized it was because of that room. That room in the attic of the school where I was dragged to and sacrificed….” He scoffed venomously. “4 bloody walls in the dark overpowered all the terrors of Hell.”

“It’s frustrating…” Edwin continued. “It’s been decades since that night and the fear of it prevents me from going into any small, dark space that remotely resembles an attic. It impedes on our detective work if I cannot enter a small room where a crime has been committed.” He clenched his fists tight as he hissed, “I want it to stop.”

The dream eldritch was silent as he stared at the young, frustrated spirit. Though Edwin was over a century old and very wise, there were times where he showed that, deep down, he was still a 16 year old boy.

Eventually, Dream spoke. “I was also confined to a small room, much like your attic. Inside this small room was my prison, that was even smaller than the space it resided in.” He stared at his warped reflection in the wine glass. “My prison was a sphere. A sphere made of steel and glass…hidden away in a pathetic man’s basement where ancient markings kept me in place and where above me was cruelly decorated like the night sky to mock me and remind me of what I was missing.”

Dream let out soft sigh. “Once I was free, it took me many months to finally be able to stay for long periods in a small room where the walls felt too close and the ceiling too low.” He looked up at the ceiling of the pub. “Even now, there are times that this space becomes fearful.”

“It does…?” Edwin asked, his voice trembling a little. “So…the fear…it doesn’t leave?”

“No.” Dream replied turning his gaze back on Edwin. “It does not. Though it happens less, that fear still plagues me. It will always be there in the back of your mind, trying to drown you.”

“Then there is no hope for me.” Edwin said, defeatedly, his shoulders dropping.

Dream smiled a little. “There is always hope, Edwin Payne. That hope, that raft that will keep you afloat during those fears…that comes from the people around you.”

“The…people around me…?”

The Being turned his gaze. Edwin follow his line of sight, seeing it had landed onto Hob, who was laughing with some of his customers. The immortal caught their stares and waved. Charles looked where Hob was looking, noticed them as well, and grinned widely, also waving.

“The people who love you and care for you…they will be your raft. Your life line. Even if you have no hope in yourself, even if you tell yourself you cannot do it…they will be the hope that will tell you that you can.”

“Hob was…and still is…my raft…” Dream said softly. “He possesses an otherworldly patience I have only ever seen in my sister…and even she has her limits. He has endlessly showered me with it as he has helped me through my fear.” He turned to look at Edwin again, still smiling. “You do not have to battle those waves alone, Edwin. You have many around you who are willing to be your raft.” He placed a slender hand over Edwin’s that had loosened their grip on his slacks. “Myself included.”

Edwin opened his mouth to speak, but was interrupted by Hob, who had finally been able to make his way down to the end of the bar.

“Bloody hell what a night.” The immortal smiled apologetically at them. “I’m so sorry I haven’t been able to be around much this evening. One of the hazards to owning a business.”

“You were around me.” Teased Charles, who had come up behind Hob.

“Look here, you little shit, that was not because I chose that. That was because you decided that tonight was the night to make ol’ Hob seem more crazy than usual.” Charles laughed as he dodged a swat from Hob, running around to hide behind Edwin.

To any remaining concerned patrons in the pub that evening it looked like Hob was scolding the air next to a shadow of a man and then swatting at a fly.

Those patrons quickly returned their attention back to their drinks.

Hob shook his head at Charles, trying to look stern but unable to as he laughed at the young ghost stick his tongue out. “To make up for it, I’ll watch whatever movies you wanna watch. No complaining.”

“Really!?” Charles beamed.

“Not you.” Hob said as he pointed a finger at Charles. “You don’t get to pick.”

“What!? Robbie, c’mon!”

“Don’t ‘c’mon’ me, you menace.”

“I’ll just possess the TV again.” Charles replied, smugly.

“Do that and I’ll invite Death over for a visit.”

The spirit boys had long since been told by Death herself that she wasn’t going to take them. They were free to roam on earth as long as they continued their work.

Regardless, Charles still paled at the threat. Death was still Death, the taker of souls, the Grim Reaper. Their non-lives were in her hands.

Charles huffed and crossed his arms. “Well played…you win.”

A few customers waved at Hob, beckoning him over to order. “Ah, bollocks…here we go again.” He smiled sheepishly at the spirits and the Endless. “Only a couple more hours, promise.”

Hob hurried away and Charles was about to follow, when he stopped and turned to Edwin. “Hey, are you doing alright? I know…I know you don’t like small rooms very much.”

Edwin blinked, then glanced at Dream. “I…I’m ok right now. Thank you, Charles.”

“Of course. Anything for my best mate.” He placed a hand in Edwin’s shoulder. “If you aren’t ok…please come get me. We’ll…we’ll go outside or something, alright?”

Dream’s words echoed in Edwin’s mind.

‘The people who love you and care for you…they will be your raft…You do not have to battle those waves alone, Edwin.’

The young spirit smiled and placed his hand over Charles’. “I will come get you, I promise.”

Charles grinned and gave Edwin’s shoulder a squeeze before he bounded after Hob once more.

Dream smiled at Edwin. “I believe you will find yourself able to read now.”

The ghost boy looked down at the velvet covered book. He picked it back up, then took in a deep breath and opened it once more.

He did, indeed, find he was able to read.

•—-•—-•—-•—-•

Twitter/X•AO3•Pillowfort •Linktree•Bluesky•Ko-fi

I struggled a bit with this one.

I will admit, I haven’t watched DBD yet. I will be this weekend tho.

But that doesn’t stop me from falling in love with the characters. I am the type of person who “spoils” movies and shows for themselves. I enjoy learning about the characters and the plot and story before I dive into the show. It helps me connect.

The problem with this…method…is I don’t always know the entire plot of something.

Which was issue here.

(If you do not wanna read spoilers for the show and comic, then do not read past the line)

Because DBD is so new, there not a lot out there yet on the show’s version of things. What I mean is, is that in the DBD comic fandom wiki, it says:

“He (Edwin) was abused by bullies who, one evening in 1914, dragged him up to the attics where they dressed up, drew a circle on the floor, and sacrificed him along with frogs and rabbits in an effort to raise devils that never came.

They hid Edwin's body in a trunk, and it was never found, Edwin thought no one looked particularly hard for him since his killers barely covered their tracks.”

I do not know how accurately the show went with the comic as the only thing I can find is an article about how the boys died, which states:

“Edwin's past in 1916 is quite heartbreaking. He had a crush on Simon at their British boarding school. He was invited to a date, only to be ambushed by Simon and his friends. The bullies thought they would have some fun with an occult ritual meant to summon the demonic Sa'al. It feels like they weren't sure that the tome they had would really bring the demon up. But they just wanted to hear Edwin scream and cry. The drunken hazing quickly turns sour as Sa'al comes up and roasts the bullies to ashes. He apologizes to Edwin, but the rules are the rules. Sa'al drags Edwin to Hell as the sacrificial part of the ceremony must be honored.”

So, as I stated above, I struggled. I truly wanted Edwin’s fear to be of the box his body had been hidden in. The fear of the confined space and the four walls and the darkness, because, perhaps, maybe his spirit had been stuck in the box too before he realized and figured out he could leave it.

But the box wasn’t used in the show.

So, I opted for the room, the attic.

Anyway, I’m rambling about this too seriously. I can headcanon things and situations all day long, but I like when those headcanons and my fics have true to the original story details if I can get them in there.

#dreamling #obsessive_dreamling #dream of the endless #hob gadling #centennial husbands #dream x hob #dream of the endless x hob gadling #hob adopts the dead boy detectives #sandman and dead boy detectives #dead boy detectives #Dream adopts the dead boy detectives #charles rowland #edwin paine #edwin payne #paineland #payneland #I swear I’m gonna watch the show this weekend #and then you’re all gonna be in for my much more accurate detail fics #dream can relate to Edwin being afraid of small spaces #fishbowl #claustrophobic Edwin? #EternalFamily #obsessive_Payneland

[kenneth-omega]

The Fear of Falling in Love

// Part 1 // Part 2 //

A Kenny Omega Short Fic

**EDITED 27/08/22**

Pairing: Kenny Omega x Female Reader

Summary: You’re a family friend of The Young Bucks who, like Matt and Nick, also became obsessed with wrestling from a young age. During Kenny’s absence from screen you were sourced into AEW by the Bucks and brought into the Undisputed Elite faction. Following the recent fall out between Adam Cole/reDragon and the Bucks over the upcoming Trios tournament you finally get to meet the great Kenny Omega. You eventually become locked into a storyline that starts out fun and harmless but soon turns sour at the prospect of real feelings being hurt and relationships tarnished.

IF YOU WOULD LIKE TO BE ADDED TO A TAGLIST IN FUTURE PARTS WHEN THEY’RE POSTED PLEASE LMK

Warnings: swearing (there will be more warnings to come in future parts), pure panting over kenny fuckin’ omega tbh

Word count: 1.9K

A/N: In honour of our wrestling lord and saviour ✨Kenneth Omega✨ returning to our screens this week on Dynamite I’ve decided to pull my dusty forgotten ass out of the shadows and write for him.

This short fic will have 5 parts in total!! (In this fic I am pre-empting what I think is gonna happen during the Trios Tournament and some things ((such as certain wrestlers currently off injured)) aren’t accurate to the current events, so please be gentle with me! 😊 Just think of this as an AU if it helps.)  Also, reader’s wrestling name is Cori but is called Y/N when not being referred to as Cori. There will be some personal names used but I’ll add these for each chapter where relevant like I have done below!

For Reference:

“All Ego” Ethan Page is Julian

Cori “The Alpha” Dacre is Y/N

You were excited to meet him. Understandably.

Despite your constant friendship with Matt and Nick which had remained alive for the many years since you’d moved to Canada as a teenager, you had never had the time nor the need to meet their current ring buddy and long-time pal Kenny Omega.

When you got the call back in December of last year from Matt asking if you’d want to sign with their own company All Elite Wrestling you had no idea just how ingrained into the company and their little faction you would become. Following your leave from the indie promotion you’d been wrestling for in Ontario, you hopped onto the first available flight down to Texas where their Wednesday night show Dynamite was being taped.

Matt had organised you a hotel for the night, with Nick arranging for you to meet the CEO Tony Khan.

“We’re not gonna throw you into a match, honestly, this is just a taster for you to come down, check out what we’re about and speak to Tony. Who’s a really great guy when you eventually get to meet him.” Matt reassured you down the phone the evening before.

Even though AEW was co-created by your friends, you were still extremely nervous. This would be the biggest company you had worked for, should everything go smoothly.

You hadn’t had much time to dwell on the details and the complications of coming back to the US to wrestle, having made most your career in the promotions back in Canada you were truly an indie darling.

“Which is why the fans are gonna love you even more.” Nick had patted you on the back encouragingly as you walked backstage at the show, heading towards a skinny, curly-haired man with a large headset on and a tablet in his hand.

From there on you’d shook hands, made small talk and watched the show beside Tony Khan and the Bucks. At the end of the show Tony had extended to you an offer of employment with AEW after seeing your interest.

From then on you’d started out with a couple of test matches on AEW Dark which had gained you decent praise and reactions from fans. With Tony satisfied in your capabilities and your talent, he gave the green light to get you straight onto Dynamite. Your debut came on the first Dynamite of the new year, where you cut yourself a sweet and short promo calling out Jade Cargill following her win over Ruby Soho.

There you introduced yourself under your new persona, having decided to shed the indie nickname from back home.

“And just who the hell do you think you are to come at that bitch on my show?” Jade sneered down the mic, her retained title belt proudly slung over her shoulder.

With a roll of your eyes and a determined grin, you spoke clearly into your own mic. “I’m Cori Dacre. The Alpha of the women’s division and soon to be the new TBS Champion.”

---------

“Cori! Hello?!” A hand waves in your face impatiently. Snapping from your stupor you gaze up to see who had rudely pulled you out from your daydreams. It was Ethan, holding his plate of breakfast from the hotel’s self-catering buffet.

“Hello Julian.” You chide as he takes a seat beside you. Your own plate didn’t look as appetising as his, with a bland portion of porridge and some pieces of jam covered toast.

“Wow, who pissed in your coffee this morning? You hardly ever call me that unless your upset, angry or just trying to wind me up.” Ethan counts on his fingers as he reels off the list, looking at you with an eyebrow raised in silent question.

“No one, I’m just...nervous.” You grumble, poking the wobbly gruel with your spoon and scrunching your nose up in disgust. It had practically solidified at this point and was past salvageable, you sigh and pick up one of the slices of toast instead.

“Remind me to note nervous down on the list for future reference,” Ethan jokes, catching a deathly glare from you. “...So who’s making you nervous? Want me to go beat ‘em up?” He offers, although he seems far too absorbed in his breakfast to be of any use for beating up people.

You shake your head, partially in response to him and partially due to the fact that the cold piece of toast was scratchy and tough going down your throat.

“Who said it was someone making me nervous?” You scoff, getting up from the table with your plate and heading back to the buffet, ditching the half-attempted breakfast for favour of a clean plate.

Scanning the different trays and pots of hot food you settle on some scrambled eggs, beans and another coffee.

“Are you seriously gonna try and lie to me Y/N?” Ethan’s voice echoes right beside you, causing you to fumble with your plate that you have balanced on one hand as you try to pour your coffee with the other.

“Fuck!” You hiss, keeping the plate steady and giving Ethan a look that could kill. “How about next time you wait for me to come back to the table instead of scaring the soul out of my body whilst I’m handling hot things!” You shove the plate in front of his face in a furious gesture.

Ethan grins and takes the plate from you, taking it back to the table as you grip onto your newly poured coffee like Gollum.

“I could have, but you would have just tried to move on from the subject and try distract me with new toys or something else equally as interesting. Besides, you know I’m always here for you, whether it’s back in good ol’ Canada or here in AEW. If someone’s bugging you then you can tell me.” He offers a gentle hand on your arm as he sets your plate down, before taking his seat and continuing with his own plate.

You slump into your chair and cast a steady eye around the room, mindful of the other talent that were here. Many were just minding their own business and no one seemed the least bit interested in you right now.

“I'm...meeting Kenny Omega today.” You mutter, waiting for Ethan’s response.

He raises his eyebrows as he chews on a mouthful and ponders your statement for a few seconds.

“You’ve not met Kenny before? I would’ve thought that being from Canada and what with you and the Bucks it’d have happened already.”

You shake your head, just as surprised yourself that it hadn't happened either.

“You know how much I’ve enjoyed this year right? The whole storyline with the Undisputed Elite has been great fun and me being recruited into the faction by Matt and Nick has given me such an amazing boost. But...what if Kenny hates me? What if I don’t fit into the Elite with him coming back and he wants me out?”

Ethan nods slowly as you begin to spiral into a tirade of self-doubting questions that you had yet to ask aloud to anyone. You couldn’t even bring yourself to speak to the Bucks about this.

“Are you sure you’re not just nervous about being around him? I know you’ve never met the guy but you’ve always spoke very admirably about him...as a wrestler, obviously.” Ethan adds the last part when he notices the narrow-eyed stare being cast his way.

“Obviously.” You repeat, not wanting to entertain the thought of your nerves being related to anything else other than professional. “Of course I’m nervous about that but-”

Ethan slaps your shoulder with the back of his hand repeatedly, his attention firmly focused on something to your right and no longer on the conversation. You follow his gaze and feel your heart soar with adrenaline and fear when you spot who is walking towards you.

A mess of brown and highlighted curls frame a rugged, unshaven face, with steely, blue eyes boring a hole into yours. You would never admit it to a single soul, but Kenny Omega was an extremely attractive man. An extremely attractive man who was also walking straight towards you.

Before he reached the two of you, you felt Ethan nudge your leg with his knee beneath the table and his muttering comment of “Be calm, he’s just a human, he’s gonna love you.”

Not wanting to seem like a deer caught in the headlights you match Kenny’s smile with a welcoming one of your own. When he reaches your table, you actually notice that Matt and Nick had entered the room with him, but the two of them had decided to bypass you completely and head straight for the food. You catch Nick’s watchful eye as they pass, him trying to subtly observe the two of you interact for the first time.

Bastards.

“Sorry to interrupt your morning, I just wanted to stop and say hi.” Kenny admits to you and Ethan, his eyes flicking back and forth between the two of you. His voice is inviting and warm, a lot deeper than you’d expected, despite having watched countless numbers of his promos. You look over to Ethan who appears extremely interested in his food at the moment, leaving you the only person to talk.

Bastards, the lot of them.

“Oh! Um, hi. I’m Cori.” You extend a hand out to him politely, praying that it doesn’t feel clammy or too warm when he goes to take it. Maybe it’s because the hotel’s carpeted and it’s just a static shock, but when Kenny grips your hand in his you could’ve sworn that you felt a crackle of electricity pass between you both.

His hand feels large in yours and the rough skin on the pads of his fingers matches your own, a tell-tale sign that he’s recently been getting back in the ring. You knew this of course, having been told a few weeks back by Nick and Matt that Kenny would be returning onscreen this week.

Today, in fact.

You notice that both your hands stopped shaking a while ago and now you’re both just holding onto each other. You decide to break the contact, unsure how to feel under his captivating gaze as his hand engulfs yours in a comforting way.

“I’ll not bother you two any more than I have, but I really thought it was time I get to know the wrestler who Matt and Nick have been raving about endlessly to me. I’m looking forward to working with you Cori. See you later this evening?” Kenny shoots you the question, although really it could’ve been more of a statement.

You would of course be taking up the Elite’s corner tonight in the main event, acting as an insignificantly small part of Kenny’s immense return to the ring.

A short nod from you is all you can muster, still feeling slightly star-struck by the man in front of you. Kenny’s eyes have an almost mischievous twinkle to them as a grin passes across his face before he leaves. Were it not for the fact you were completely spaced out following the interaction, you wouldn’t have caught him looking back over his shoulder at you and giving you a tiny wave. A small gesture, but one that sends your veins thrumming as you realise he must’ve caught you staring.

A few seconds pass before Ethan lets out a low whistle.

“Talk about floundering, you couldn’t barely string a sentence together in front of him! This is bad!” He laughs, looking at your slightly dazed expression, cheeks a raging shade of pink.

“Fuck off Julian.”

---------

A/N: Short first chapter, sorry!! (I wanted to test the waters with me getting back into writing) I hope that this fic is interesting and people want to read more as I’ve got this story pretty much mapped out already! It’ll be a short fic but I can’t say for certain how many parts to this there’d be (estimate would be around 6/7? IDK I’m so bad at working this stuff out 🙃), although the future parts will be longer than this one.

Also, I am planning for there to be SMUT in future parts so just a lil’ wink wink 😉 for y’all and also a warning to under 18′s (I will be mentioning in the warnings where there is anything NSFW).

#kenny omega #kenny omega x reader #kenneth omega #one winged angel #tyson smith #aew #all elite wrestling #wrestling #ethan page #all ego ethan page #wrestling fic #fanfic #kenny omega fanfiction #aew dynamite #aew imagine #aew fic #aew x reader #aew all out #the elite #matt jackson #nick jackson #the young bucks #young bucks #being the elite

[blankinsidecards]

Steddie fic rec list

Absolutely nobody asked for this but here we go! These are my top 5 favorites, meaning they live in my brain 24/7 and I want them tattooed on my eyelids. Edit: this has been updated!

oh, happy dagger on sunshine bones by inallthingsgoodorbad

Rating: M • Edit: Complete!

Eddie Munson is stuck in the Upside Down. Barely alive. Steve Harrington is trying to sleep and failing at it, miserably. What a strange thing it is, to save the world alongside friends and come away from it with nightmares and loneliness.

A fix-it fic to a heart wrenching degree. Deals with the trauma and ptsd of each character in really careful detail, and plots out a bright future for them in the same breath. Lots of gorgeous, if messy, original poetry that fit with Eddie’s emotions throughout the fic in really beautiful ways. This fic is criminally underappreciated, but it’s an absolute masterpiece. Highlights include: the nickname of ‘Angel’, bedsharing, a fluffy lumax subplot that made me sob with joy, a wonderful appreciation for our dear Uncle Wayne Munson, and food as a love language. Slooowww burn with so much pining.

the most remarkable thing about you standing in the doorway is that it’s you by @greatunironic

Rating: E • Complete

Sixteen years after the world didn't end for the last time, Max Mayfield showed up on Steve’s doorstep and said, “You gonna walk me down the aisle in May or what?”

Or, it’s 2002 and Steve Harrington attends a wedding, a funeral, and a birth.

As the writer says in the notes of the first chapter, it’s a love letter to “Steve Harrington, father figures, + metalheads everywhere” which I think says more about the feel of it than I can convey here. The way that everyone is written, specifically Joyce and Hopper’s relationships with Steve, as so firmly family is something I didn’t know I needed so bad. I don’t reread fics very often, but I’ve read this one all the way through three times, and have listened to the podfic twice as well. (I’ve never been able to get into podfics but @itty-bitty-blondie did such a beautiful job with it) It will have you ugly crying through every chapter, I guarantee. And as fucking sad as it will make you, it also the softest, most comforting thing I’ve ever read in my life.

You’re Divine by OonionChiver

Rating: E • Edit: Complete!

‘Blood?’ Eddie says again.

Eyes black but for the slice of iridescent white in the centre. His teeth are sharp, his hands are weapons and Steve thinks maybe he’s made a mistake doing this without telling Eddie first. Eddie’s focus lowers, it moves to his left hand which is…

Oh fuck.

It’s dripping blood onto the floor.

‘Shit,’ Steve says, takes a single step back, swallows. ‘Eddie, I’m so sorry, fuck.’

Eddie can’t seem to look away, can’t bring his ethereal gaze back up where it belongs. Steve thinks he should run, he should flee. A tiny part of him knows Eddie will chase him. Eddie will catch him, outrun him easily.

It's more than a little fucked up how that thrills him.

So far, this is definitely my favorite Vampire!Eddie fic I’ve read so far. I’m going to come right out and say it: I’ve read my fair share of toe-curling smut in my time, and this is the only fic that while I was reading it, I felt like I got a ‘New Kink Discovered’ alert. If you like your ships to be co-dependent in the most fucked up ways possible, this is for you. I cannot stress enough how absolutely drunk on this fic I was at the end of the first chapter. Good lord, PLEASE check the tags yourself before reading, it is A Lot. Apart from how hot it is, the author has put a huge amount of detail into the technicalities of Eddie’s vampirism and, I’m not sure if this is accurate due to my own lack of knowledge, but it seems like a lot of it is directly drawn from D&D mechanics and Kas lore. I may be wrong here, but it’s impressive either way. Another big highlight is that they take a sledgehammer to the Mr. & Mrs. Harrington’s shit in a beautifully cathartic way. Don’t be put off by the fact that there’s so few chapters, each chapter is really long and covers several days. It took my two an half hours to read the latest chapter (and I only had to put my phone down to scream into my pillow like, six or seven times)

the lathe by @palmviolet

Rating: M • Complete

"This time, do it right. This time Eddie won’t bleed out in his arms, in anyone’s arms. This time, Steve will do it right."

— or, Steve relives the day they try to kill Vecna over and over, and Eddie just can't seem to stop dying. Steve finds this totally unacceptable.

It’s a time loop fic. It’s a Steve-centric time loop fic. It has more themes and symbolism than Chekhov could shoot a gun at. It peels Eddie’s character apart like an onion. It’s the ultimate put-your-blorbo-in-a-glass-jar-and-study-him-like-a-bug for EITHER of them. It had me waiting like a war widow for each update. I was more anxious over the ending of this fic than I was of the actual s4 vol2. Again, check the tags and individual chapter warnings for yourself because, as the author warns, it really does get so much worse before it gets better- but it gets better. I think this may be one of my favorite fanfics of all time, of any fandom, and that’s really saying something.

a bottle of rouge (just me and you) by @anniebibananie and @galmance

Rating: E • Edit: Complete! • AU

Eddie was sure 1988 was going to be his fucking year. Harringley had finally made it big enough for their first national tour, and, sure, they might all get sick of each other on the bus and kill their livers over the course of several months, but this was his fucking dream. None of that other shit could wreck it.

But Eddie Munson’s life has always been a dumpster fire of massive proportions, so really he should have expected it: Steve Harrington ruining his fucking life.

[Over the course of Harringley’s first national tour, band rules are made, broken, and might just cause feelings that leave them on the precipice of destroying everything they’ve built.]

Eddie-centric band fic where the Fruity Four is a band and everyone is too fucking hot for their own good. Classic friends-with-benefits setup with delightfully fast realizations of Actual Feelings. I’m talking a -‘no fucking bandmates’ rule at the beginning of chapter one, and a blowjob by the end of chapter one- kind of pace. I haven’t seen a lot of bi/pan Eddie fics yet, and this one does a good job describing how he feels attraction. (I’m NOT saying it’s ‘good bi/pan rep’. The man is a SLUT and it’s FUN) I also love how they’ve written Nancy as this hardcore drummer while somehow keeping her completely in character. Highlights include Jonathan Byers being Steve’s ex-boyfriend, Argyle being the band’s beloved bus driver, and several absolutely electric concert scenes. There’s also not a SHRED of ‘period-typical homophobia’ if that’s something you, like me, have a hard time reading.

Edit: the sequel come right inside (welcome to my new life) just began and it’s from Steve’s pov five years later. Where Side A was the epitome of Sex, Drugs, and Rock & Roll; Side B is already addressing the recovery the characters have needed from that destructive lifestyle, and I’m so down for it. Edit: also now complete and with a very sweet happy ending!

#stranger things #eddie munson #steve harrington #stranger things fic rec #steddie fanfiction #steddie fic rec #stranger things fanfiction #fic rec list #steve x eddie #steddie #fanfiction #top five favorites #top five Steddie fics #steve harrington/eddie munson #free to reblog

[sleepywriter84]

From the Beginning

Daryl Dixon x Reader

Chapter 1: The Start of it All

Word Count: 1558

Authors Note: This is the first chapter of a project I intend to work on. Basically, this fanfic will follow the plot and storyline of The Walking Dead. The dialogue may not be completely accurate when compared to the show, but I do intend to steer the fic in the same direction the show takes. Some details may be switched. This first chapter is in the first person, but I will most likely write the rest of the story in the third person (I don’t like writing in the first person lmao but I didn’t realize that till I finished the whole chapter).

Quiet. It was never this quiet on a Thursday night. Scrubbing down the counters for the tenth time that night, I looked around the empty establishment. Thursday nights were usually pretty steady, with at least one order being made every two to three hours, but tonight not a single person has come into the parlor or called to place an order. It was oddly eerie. 

Looking to my right, I catch the eye of one of my coworkers sitting on top of the counter where the cash register is. Rolling my eyes, I continue to scrub the clean tables that littered the parlor.

“Who are you rolling your eyes at toots?” the coworker jokes, kicking his feet against the wood.

“Nothing, just you sitting there, not working.”

“Not working. What’s there to work on? You’ve been scrubbin the same goddamn platforms for the past 6 hours, there ain’t nothing to do. Doesn’t look like we have a line out there does it?” 

“Doesn’t mean you can be lazy Jamie” I jab, earning a playful scoff from the man.

“You know, she’s right. Just sitting there. You gonna let the kid show you up, a grown ass man” the manager speaks up, walking out of the backroom. 

“Oh don’t give me that shit, we all know you’ve been taking a fat nap in your office back there. It’s not my fault that I got the damn graveyard shift, Brandon” Jamie remarks, kicking the wood of the counter he was sitting on a bit harder. 

“Yeah, yeah. Just be glad you’re not busting your tail, and I ain’t getting on your ass. At least I got one hard worker, the place definitely needed the deep cleaning.”

Rolling up my sleeves, I walk over to the two men who are talking, placing the rag next to Jamie, and leaning against the register. 

“I wonder why it’s so quiet though? It doesn’t make sense for a Thursday night, it really don’t” I remark, picking at the seams of my long sleeved shirt.

“I don’t know. I just know that Glenn and Mark had to go home, and I’m just happy they did. We definitely don’t have the business for that much labor, though I probably should have sent you home instead of Glenn. Who knows how much cleaning we could have gotten done then” Brandon nods towards Jamie. 

“I just want something to do, last hour I cleaned everything, even the ovens, and we all know that those things don’t mix with me well.”

“Well you’d be in luck. I didn’t come out here to just pick on Jamie here, we finally got an order. Scheduled for 8 tonight, so in an hour or so. It’s Mr.Lich, his usual order for Thursday nights. Which one of ya wants to run it?” 

“I can, would be nice to go outside, see why it's so dead around here” I volunteer, stretching. 

“Kay, its settled then. Leave no later than 7:50, that way the old man is happy for some early pizza” Brandon states, waving us off and walking back to his office.

The hour goes by slowly, dragging on. I end up scrubbing everything down three more times, and then one more after Jamie made the pizza. Getting my bag, I slot the pizza into it, waving Jamie off and yelling a quick goodbye to Brandon. 

Stepping outside, I look around. Everything was empty. Not a single person outside. It was strange. The Georgia sun was just starting to set and the shadows cast down on the streets looked so strange. Walking down the road, all I could hear was my footsteps. However, as I got closer to the road that led out of the tiny shopping plaza, the sudden blaring of horns caught my attention. Turning the corner, I’m surprised with what I saw. 

A whole line of cars stretching from all the way down the street to wherever it ended up ahead was blockading traffic. Not a single person was moving, yet it seemed that everyone wanted to get out. Honk after honk echoed through the street. Confused, I look around seeing if I can figure out why everyone was leaving. However, there was nobody on the street, and all the nearby businesses had signs up that said “Sorry We’re Closed”. 

Picking up my pace, I walk further down the street towards my destination, my grip on the pizza tightening. I glanced to my side at the backup traffic, and watched as people honked their cars in what looked like panic. 

What the hell was going on. 

If an emergency occurred shouldn’t there be a message on my phone saying so. The radio in the pizza parlor was broken, so if it was broadcast none of us would know. But the news would have had to reach us eventually. The pizza parlor was isolated a bit from the public, not being on a busy street, and being in a more isolated shopping center that most people would have to walk to reach. But surely, if something was wrong, one of us in that building would know. 

Starting to sprint, I decide to just get to my location and head back as fast as I can. Bring it up to Brandon and Jamie, and ask if they knew anything about it. I had left my phone back at the parlor, so I couldn’t check it. 

Slowing down, I take in the beaten down building, and take a deep breath before walking up the creaky metal steps. The apartment building was sort of in the style of a motel, it probably was one before the city decided it needed more permanent housing. 

Walking up to the second floor, I head to room 152. Mr. Lich always ordered pizza on Thursday night, set to be delivered at 8 pm. However, if you got there at least 5 minutes early, the tip you got was pretty wealthy. He was a small old man, who didn’t really speak much and had a big bald spot in the center of his scalp. He always had his door locked and windows drawn tight, he wasn’t much of a people person. 

So, when I arrived at his door and saw it cracked open and his windows shattered, I froze. I didn’t know what to do. Calling out, I wait for an answer. He didn’t reply. 

“Mr. Lich?” I whisper, leaning towards the door, hoping this all was a fluke. 

“Mr. Lich?” I tried again, my knuckles going white with how tight I was gripping the pizza box in my hands. 

I didn’t know what to do. With the panic going on out on the streets, and with the state of Mr. Lich’s apartment, every possible thing that could be going wrong right now ran through my head. 

What if someone got out of the prison a couple miles away. What if a whole bunch of them got out. What if someone really bad was going around murdering people. What if that someone was back at my apartment building. 

With that thought my breath hitched. At home was my mom. At home were my two younger siblings, who had just turned four a couple weeks ago. If whatever caused this panic, if whatever it was was related to the broken in apartment I currently stood outside of, what if it had gone towards my home. Looking behind me, I find the faint outline of the woods surrounding the town. My house was over there, my family could be in danger. 

I couldn’t breathe. I couldn’t think right. All I knew was something bad was happening, and that I needed to get home. I didn’t even realize that I had dropped the pizza, but it fell from my shaky hands with a slight thud. 

Carefully stepping forward, I placed my hands on the apartment door. Slowly, I began to nudge it open. Before I ran home, I had to make sure Mr. Lich was okay. Maybe it was all a misunderstanding. Maybe nothing bad was happening, and this was just some whole planned scheme. Maybe it all wasn’t real. 

The scraping of the door on the tan hardwood floors distracts me from my thoughts, and I stand right at the entrance. The door was pushed open now, if I were to look up, just a bit, I would be able to see into Mr. Lich’s apartment. Slowly, I move my head up just a bit, to peer into the darkness. 

It was empty, at first. There wasn’t any sign of life, until I moved my gaze over to the broken window. Right underneath the shattered glass, illuminated perfectly by the falling sun, was Mr. Lich, except he wasn’t alone. 

On top of the old man, was another person, at least that’s what it looked like. They were sat beside Mr. Lich, their head bowed towards his chest. Taking a step into the room, I call out. Mr. Lich was old, he had health problems. Maybe he collapsed, broke the window on his way down and someone broke through his door to help him. Hopefully that was it. But as I reach a hand out to the two people, asking them what's wrong, the person on top of Mr. Lich picks his head up. And that's when I notice the blood. 

#twd #the walking dead #daryl dixon #daryl dixon x reader #slowburn

[avengershumanresources]

I just finished reading “blood” and holysmokes I LOVED THE FIC SO MUCH🥺🥺 IT HAS BECOME MY COMFORT FIC WHICH I WILL KEEP REVISITING! Where shall I even start my compliments from? The world building was so organic, I never felt lost, there was never a dull moment in your story, dude you had me gripped to my seat the entire time, I have never given a zillion expressions under a minute in my entire life. I was feeling ecstasy, dedication, rage, fervor all at the same time. Only a few people possess the sheer potential to immerse a reader in their fantasy world and it’s safe to say, you’ve mastered that talent. The way you so skilfully described the royal details has me spinning. I always wanted to read a well articulated imperial clan story. This fic is everything i desired- the intensity, the passion and oof the aristocracy 💗I could feel both the tenderness and fortitude radiating off the princess. Dayum the way each character was so fiercely involved with the reader and in restoring the stark house’s stature itself was enough to make fall to my knees and swore my unyielding fidelity to the crown. Their devotion got me high af on my own adrenaline. All of the characters were so cooperative and loving towards the princess (especially our sweethearts- loki, nat & james) it felt like we were all a big family. I genuinely felt like those scenarios - the palpable tension of the unforeseen, doomed future are real, as if they're here, happening in front of my eyes. You’re an amazing author you know? The thing I liked the most about this fic is you tied all the loose ends in the epilogue. No side of the story was unheard, no hero was unsung, you made sure that the readers could discern the depth, the struggle, the weight and importance of all of the characters’s coordination and cooperation. It was a collective effort of each character which brought a fruitful victory. Your writing touched my heart. I wanna applaud you for such a marvellous masterpiece. It was a phenomenal read. Covering minuscule to gigantic accurate details about every kingdom/ classification of various magical ancestries? Wow. I can tell you were immensely emotionally and creatively buried in your craft, only you could put such extreme efforts in plot research. You've impressed me to great lengths. Ok ok I’ll stop singing your praises now cuz lord knows I can go on for decades but you’ll be tired out of your wits haha. Lastly, thank you for producing such a beautiful story. Thank you for letting me read something so intricate, it was my pleasure. I will carry on reading your other upcoming fics as well ! Can’t wait to see what more you have in store my dear! Have a lovely day/night ahead 🥰

What a message to wake up to! 😭😭 thank you so much, I’m literally at a loss for words rn. (I might be crying). This truly means the world to me, and I stg I’m gonna frame this and put it next to my computer to look at whenever I’m feeling sad about writing (which lately I’ve been working on an original sci-fi story that I’ve been struggling to get inspired by and actually *write*, so thank you for that renewed spark).

I’m so glad you liked the story!

Holy smokes. 🥰🥰♥️♥️♥️♥️🥰🥰 thank you!!!!

#brb sobbing

[cannibalisticskittles]

@amphyn

fully, fully willing to be the internet's reader insert clippy in this regard if it means it's stop fuckin happening, please

@crytalstellar

there's like, a SPECIFIC way that third-person fics can work, and that's when there's a character thinking about 'you' but tbh it's damn tricky to do and i haven't seen it done very often, let alone done effectively. but first person? never. never ever.

@wasserplane

OKAY SO the thing about writing advice for reader insert stories is that the vast majority of advice falls under general writing advice. if you are a good writer, you will probably write decent-to-good reader inserts. if you are not a good writer (yet! we all start somewhere), then reader insert tips will help you write more accurate reader insert stories, but not necessarily good ones. but! that's obvious. actual tips would be.... hmm...........

this is not an exhaustive list and it's very rambly so i'm gonna put this under a cut, but --

don't feel like you have to make your reader insert character a total blank slate. it Can Be Done, but it is tricky, and personally i find it less fun! i'm sure some people prefer blank slate protagonists/reader inserts, but i think reader insert stories are best when there are (at least) some establishing details abt what 'you' DO and who 'you' ARE.

now, don't make things hyper-specific! don't talk about the color of your hair or eyes or even abt the style of your clothes, unless that serves a purpose (another character provided 'you' with a change of clothes, you're in disguise or in uniform, etc). but -- give 'you' a job! or mention the possibility of one! some friends, even if obliquely! it's great for character-building! scene-setting! plot devices! why not! you can do it in a way that's vague enough to be relatable to a bunch of people, and also not be so specific that it's offputtingly unrelatable to the rest of your readers! just maybe don't insist that 'you' work as the world's premier parakeet trainer instead of, like, working in the zoo gift shop or at a mall kiosk. or, as i most often find myself writing, at some unspecified-but-probablly-minimum-wage-job since swapping shifts was mentioned at one point.

also, remember that not everyone looks like you/a certain way! kind of obvious, right? and a lot of this is very easy to avoid. but you'd be surprised -- i've seen people write a description that mentions 'your pale skin' like 3 or 4 times in fics????? not that much, i guess, but still odd to realize the specific way an author is visualizing 'you.' and that's just in fics that i, personally, have stumbled across and read. all you gotta do to avoid that one is...... not do that. not assume all your readers have light skin. easy-peasy. (and this is kind of a dumb example, but similarly, while everyone can blush, not everyone blushes so visibly with their skin tone. 'you redden/your cheeks turn pink' may not be the most relatable way of conveying embarrassment or being flustered -- tho it's also not 100% definitely gonna be alienating -- but, like. even so. 'your face warms' and other such phrasings are options.)

other things are a touch less obvious, but still not all that hard to do, you just have to consider what may or may not be relatable to people. if a character "runs a hand through your hair" then 'you' must have hair long enough to run a hand through... and that you are willing to let someone touch like that. if 'you' duck to get through a doorway, 'you' must be pretty tall (or the doorway is particularly shirt!) and if 'you' have to climb onto something to reach an object, 'you' must be short enough to justify it.

there was a comment on a fic of mine once in regards to a scene where 'you' sat on someone's lap, and it was something like 'aw, i wish i could do that, but i'm fat, so i'd probably crush him, lol.' and that's stuck with me!! i failed that reader of mine by relying on skinny bitch privilege and that made my writing less effective and less fun for someone! jolting someone out of a scene they would otherwise enjoy is not something i wanted to do!!!

ever since that, i've really tried to consider the physicality of the actions i write -- to make sure that whatever 'you' do, it's written in such a way that it's believable for all my readers, whatever their height or weight or build might be. and you'd better fuckin believe that the next time i had 'you' sit on that character's lap, i tried to make it happen in a way that that original commenter would've been able to see themselves in.

and, like, listen. implying/maybe even outright stating that the reader insert character has hair that someone can run a hand through, or is kinda short or whatever, is not inherently bad.

you are not going to be able to create a reader insert that 100% of readers relate to 100% of the time -- at least, not for longer stories. it's easier for drabbles, lmao. but for longer stories or for a series, there will almost certainly be something that doesn't grok with someone, whether that's 'i wouldn't do that' or 'i wouldn't say that' or 'i wouldn't react like that' or any number of other points that are dissonant to someone reading. and aiming to be 100% relatable, 100% of the time is not only futile, it also tends to result in.... characters who are so firmly middle-of-the-road and blank that the stories are no fun to read.

but. as with anything else, people are willing to suspend their disbelief. give them enough things that they can relate to that if/when you slip up, they're willing to keep going anyway.

on that note, returning to the not-a-blank-slate idea, you can -- and i think you should -- give 'you' some personality!

i struggle to describe how i view this, but like......... you can justify most types of personalities. you can make it make sense. you can make it feel natural. you write the story, and if you want the reader insert character to be anxious, add moments in the story where that makes sense, where people nod along and say 'oh, yeah, for sure, i would react anxiously too if that happened.' bam! however you want the reader insert character to act, just keep weaving in justifications, scenarios that would draw out the desired behavior from a lot of people.

also maybe this is a cheat, but heaping on more personality in the narration than in the dialogue is a possibility! people are often more open in their thoughts and impulses than in the things they say! so then you can write weird shit and have people still relate!

"Oh, I'd love to chat, but I..." You readjust your bag and shuffle back a half-step, using the motion to buy yourself time to think of another excuse. "I really can't stay, sorry; my coworker needs me to cover her shift." It's not a lie, exactly. More like... two unrelated pieces of information. You really do have to go -- if you spend one more minute being ogled by some chucklefuck with no concept of personal space, you are really, truly, going to burst. And your phone has been pinging all day with frantic requests to please, please, please cover this shift, just this once, she thought she'd requested it off ages ago, honest, and the tickets were so expensive and they're nonrefundable, and you're the only one not already on the schedule, so please? He doesn't need to know that the shift isn't until Saturday.

not the best example, but you get the idea.

above all, all else, make it fun. seriously!

i got... a lot of comments about the reader insert character in my saeran fic. positive ones! really positive ones! some could relate to the reader insert, but others just liked them. thought of the reader insert as a well-developed character. does that mean i failed at writing a good reader insert? .........................well, maybe? or... maybe not? people had fun reading it and i had fun writing it, in the end. and a lot of people mentioned that the reader insert character did a lot of things they wished they could do RE: the plot or a character, so it still scratched that itch of wish fulfillment that reader inserts are designed to do, lmao. so maybe it didn't end up being The World's Most Relatable Reader Insert. but would it have been as fun for everyone if it was?

.........yknow what, maybe a lot of this is not actually the most helpful for writing reader inserts, actually. uh, if you want advice on fitting a reader insert into the world they're dropped in/among the characters they're now interacting with, or. like. any other coherent, salient writing advice, lemme know and i'll babble abt that another time but i've been rambling for an hour and i still have homework i need to do, oh my god

#truly a horrific amount of semi-coherent babbling under the cut

[glove23]

ALL. ALL THE NUMBERS.

thank u ily

1: Which of your fics would you keep the basic plot of but rewrite completely?

Meeting Your Maker (Literally) which like. I've already sort of done dkdjsjsjs but I think if I started completely fresh with it I would do a lot of things differently! I love it tho it's my baby

2: Anything that you'd like to write but feel like you're unable to?

hmm not so much Unable as it's just hard but I struggle a lot with Smut. it just takes practice

3: How would you describe your writing style?

hmm. vibe based

4: Do you have any OCs? Do you have a story for them?

mmmm I sure do. they're all lovely and it's a time travel story I just have to write it dkhjsjdjs and the hardest part is always starting KDHAJDJA

5: What's a tag you never want to use for your works even when it applies?

okay so. I use whatever tags apply but like. sometimes,,,,I love Major Character Death and sometimes I don't want to use the archive warning for it skfhsjdjs so I only use the actual tag. but that's literally it djdjsjsj

6: What's your ratio for rating your works?

almost all of my fics are rated T, with a handful of G and a few M, but the majority is definitely T

7: Your favourite ao3 tag.

Major Character Death ksjfksjxs

8: How slow is a slow burn?

too slow. I'm so impatient, I can't stand to write them for more than a few hundred words

9: Thoughts on cliffhangers.

my favorite. I LIVE for a good cliffhanger I aim to get yelled at at the end of every chapter for where I end things skfhsjdjs

10: Top three favourite fic tropes.

bedsharing, time travel, AND FOUND FUCKIN FAMILY 😭😭

11: Three tropes that are fine but overrated.

uhhh. all of them cksjdjsjs uh coffee shop aus. is that a trope. I don't care sofhwjd it's what I'm putting, they're SO overrated like have u ever worked in customer service

13: Rate your worldbuilding skills from 1 to 10.

3

14: Write and share the first sentence of a new fic. Just that.

"It has to be said: some bodyguards just aren't as skilled as others."

15: What's your favourite plotless fic you have written?

sharp objects. sharp objects. shARP OBJECTS

16: Are one-shots really underrated?

by fandom? yes. I live and breath one-shots and ppl don't fucking appreciate them enough.

17: Past or present tense? Why?

past tense. it sounds better and I like the idea that all stories are being Told, like they've already happened, ur not witnessing events as they play out, ur being told a story.

18: First, second, or third person?

third. it's better. first only sometimes, usually Percy Jackson related. but mostly. third.

19: Share a snippet from a wip without giving any context for it.

“You shouldn’t be up, you’re still healing.” He murmured.

Her gray eyes hardened and she stuck out a foot to kick him lightly on the shin. “This is kind of time sensitive, so if you could stop wallowing out here on the balcony, we could use you inside.”

Annabeth turned and skulked back inside, taking all the warmth with her. He shivered, the rain seeming to seep in right through to his bones. He took a deep breath and followed Annabeth inside.

20: Do you work on a single project or many at the same time? How does that work for you?

many. badly. KSBDKWHDJS got so many ideas so little energy. some things get finished as soon as I start them and others get poked at for months. it's just. life

21: Can you accurately predict how long your fics are going to be? If you can, what's your secret?

uhh yeah pretty much. it's usually how detailed the idea is and how many different branches it's gonna have. I do always still feel like a wizard when I guess correctly

22: What is it about watching the same two idiots falling in love over and over again?

it's all the in between that's the fun part, bc it's different everytime. even if it writing the same idea, it's always gonna be different from someone else. the anticipation of it all, knowing how it's gonna end up and watching all the pieces fall into place over and over again....it's just Fun

23: Dialogue or description? Why is the other one so hard?

dialogue. I love dialogue so much. description just doesn't come as naturally so I like it less dkdhsjjds tho it is still very fun, especially when it's the main focus of the story with very little dialogue. mmm. tasty

24: Thoughts on flashbacks/flashforwards.

like. they have their uses and I do love making the timeline funky but sometimes they are definitely the lazy way out OFJAJDJSJ

25: Is writing the whole thing beforehand better or worse than writing it as you go?

is writing the- DO PEOPLE DO THAT?? WRITE THE WHOLE THING FIRST AND THEN POST IN LITTLE INCREMENTS??? god. well I guess that answers that question. I am a write as I go kinda person, tho writing it all beforehand is definitely impressive

26: What would you describe as OOC?

this is literally different for every character ksbdjsn if they don't sound like themselves. doing things they wouldn't do, and u haven't given a good reason for why they're doing this OOC thing. I love characterization so much, it is definitely a big passion to get characters Right so when they're not,,,,

27: Do you agree that one shouldn't start a story with a piece of dialogue?

fanfiction? or like a legit pro published work? cuz uh either way? do whatever the fuck u want skdhsjsh. sometimes the vibe is dialogue to start!! sometime it's exactly what the story needs

28: Any writing advice that works for you and you feel like sharing?

write every day. forreal. it doesn't matter how much u write, but write something everyday. it helps build the habit and legit makes it easier to start

29: What's the hardest thing about writing?

writing

30: Describe a fic that almost happened, but then it didn't.

I have zero memory so no oshdjwjd I will not

31: What was the most difficult fic for you to write (but in the end you made it)?

sharp objects.

#ask #writing #rie #thank u #ily

[upsidedownwithsteve]

hey emmy! i’m currently procrastinating like a total dumbass but after seeing the idiotic messages people are sending you again i just felt the need to write you a little something something.

for one, i will never in a million years understand why people are just generally disrespectful towards you because your fantastic work is getting the appreciation it deserves. do they just enjoy being bitter or something? do they find pride in being “quirky” and “not like other girls” for hating on your rightfully popular works? or maybe they just can’t seem to conceal their jealousy and decide to be asshats through anon messages? like, seriously, if you’re gonna say some bullshit like that, say it with your whole chest and don’t be a coward!

but anyways, moving away from the negativity; emmy, you have raw writing talent and i’d be pissed if you DIDN’T share your works with us on this website. you’ve somehow managed to incorporate simplicity alongside such incredible detail in your fics and blurbs and it just makes reading your works that much more of an amazing experience.

i often find myself unable to read certain texts because of the techniques and layouts some authors use, but the way you incorporate imagery and repetition (alongside many more that i can’t seem to remember the names of atm) honestly makes reading what you create so fun.

i love reading your stuff and how you portray steve and eddie is such a breath of fresh air (and might i say scarily accurate? i think that you, along with @hellfirewhores and @1986harrington are some of, if not the best people on here who write them.). you put so much time and effort into what you do and the hours you spend researching and planning are seriously paying off.

i, myself, am a writer (on wattpad, unfortunately) and you’ve inspired me so much and have helped me without even knowing it. recently i’ve been receiving a lot of support and love from my readers and close friends on my works, saying how i’ve significant improved over the past few weeks and it’s all thanks to you. and i know you’ll probably say something to keep yourself humble and that i don’t owe you any credit for my success, but i honestly do.

even outside of writing and just in life in general, i felt stuck for a while and lost all motivation for quite some time, but stumbling across your page helped me find my spark that i was sure wouldn’t come back.

hell, you’ve even got me considering posting on this awfully frightening site, which is, oddly enough, an almost impossible task since ive been avoiding it for years. (but then again, maybe turning 18 has me going all topsy-turvy.. who knows! adulthood, amirite?)

all in all, you are such an important part of this fandom and i truly hope you know that! i seriously could not imagine what the hell i would be doing in my spare time if i didn’t find you when i did, and you’ve made some of my days just that little bit better.

fuck all of those jerks who think you’re undeserving of the praise and attention you receive because to put it plainly, you just do.

have a great rest of your day! much love! <3

from anon ali :)

Ali!

You absolute sweetheart, I was smiling the entire time reading this, you’re so lovely, thank you so much! I don’t even wanna touch on the salty anons because you’ve made me so happy by being so cute.

Thank you thank you thank you’re being so complimentary, seriously you’re far too kind! But thank you (again) for reading never mind writing out something like this! 🥹

I’m incredibly honoured to even be considered someone that’s helped you with your own writing, honestly, it’s so sweet of you to say that and I hope you’re writing is going well! (You should definitely start posting on tumblr I’d love to read it).

And once again, because I can’t say it too much, thank you! You’re so lovely and so kind and you’ve made my day. I hope you have a lovely day or night 🧡🧡🧡

#tears #wow #ask

[x-pair-o-dice-x]

here's a bucketload of numbers for you uncle :D [ask game] 57, 79, 78, 74, 69, 58, 52, 51, and 42

oh wow that is a lot!! thank you, my nibbling :D!!!!!!

42 — What’s your favorite title that you’ve come up with?

ooo,, favorite title, huh? it’s a pretty low bar, i’m not all too great with titles,, but.. by nature, we are meant to fall apart (but who cares about that when we have each other)!! or an extreme game of chase,,, tho the former is a lot more poetic-ish,, djdjkjdi.

51 — Does what you like to write differ from what you like to read?

nope! i write exactly what i love to read — found family and miscommunications!

52 — What’s the average word count of your fics?

oh god you’re making me do math-

okay, because it’s easier than going through all my fics on tumblr to try and find the word count of each,, i’m just gonna go off of my ao3,,mdkdmdkd. and based on those six fics,, my word count is a lil less than 6k! there’s definitely a few outliers in there(cough cough by nature and risks and hugs) but that does seem pretty accurate,, dkdndkdj.

57 — How conscious are you about including symbolism or foreshadowing in your fics?

uhhh- depends on the fic! sometimes there are details that i intended to put in,, and sometimes they show up completely by accident,, rkfmfkmfkd.

58 — Do you have a favorite piece of figurative language you’ve written?

i,, don’t think i do? i don’t tend to use figurative language all to much, i don’t think — at least, not consciously.

69 — What are your favorite fics at the moment?

first off, nice,, second off! hands down, this fic. i’d say the name, but i don’t want this post showing up to anyone searching it up,, dkdnkdmdkdnckxn. i absolutely love the author’s fics, they are my number one favorite author, even if they only have two fics to their name. if you’ve never read their fics before, i highly recommend doing so.

i also love absolutely anything made by prinx or shushi!!! and there’s also this other writer i absolutely adore the works of, don’t know if you’ve ever heard of them,, they go by the name puzzle? 10/10 love their fics and their art, so so good,, dkdmdkdmd.

74 — Do you have a fic you wish got a bit more love?

mmm.. maybe an extreme game of chase? but specifically over on ao3 — it’s my second longest fic over there, but in hits, it’s only in the top 4 of 6, and is about the same in regards to kudos and bookmarks. and maybe also a fic over on my main, as well — yeah, it’s only really one chapter(and i still need to plan out the rest of it dkdmkdmdkd),,, but still,, dkdmkd.

78 — What motivates you during the writing process?

i absolutely love receiving comments or asks about my works! outside of the ability to put my thoughts and ideas into a physical place,, that’s the main reason i write. i love sharing my ideas, and i love receiving compliments — makes my brain go brrrr.

79 — Do you have any writing advice you want to share?

mmm- don’t force yourself to write! motivation comes and goes,, if you don’t take breaks, you could end up burning out.

and if you’re ever stuck in a place, usually the problem is a few sentences back — you’ve written yourself into a corner. go back, maybe ten sentences, and try to rewrite it from there.

#asks #mcyt g/t community #will i ever take my own writing advice? no #the lab-raccooninnit fic is stuck in limbo bc i’ve written myself into a corner and refuse to back out #this is my corner now

[bigskydreaming]

Hi, I was reading your post about Jason punching Dick in the face when Dick revealed he fake his death was bullshit ( which it was) and it reminded me of an issue/question that has bothered me for sometime.

Why did people believe Dick was actually dead?

I’m not the most avid comic reader so maybe I missed something but it was always weird to me that everyone just accepted this especially given how Bruce was acting or should I say wasn’t acting.

This is a man when his child died another child had to come along and told him sir you are being too violent and emotional you need supervision. When his other child died he went all over the universe to bring him back to life because he knew it was possible ( which was happening at the same time), so why didn’t anyone think it was weird he wasn’t doing that for Dick. Can you imagine Dick really dying that soon after Damian it would be injustice Batman Version. You are telling me that Tim, Jason or Barbara didn’t think it was weird that Bruce didn’t also bring Dick’s corpse to the bring Damian back to life mission or mention it to themselves. Like what more likely Dick dead and Bruce is handling it well or that he fake his death to do something stupid and Dangerous after his partner/brother/ little bit my son the feelings are complicated died after he was knocked out and woke up to his corpse.

Oh man, this is like, the entire nature of my beef?

(Slight derail just to emphasize the fact real quick that Dick DID actually die, he was just revived quickly, but like, the trauma of his death was very real and its not like anyone was clued into Luthor having a resurrection backdoor built into his literal murder of Dick in the actual moment of it happening. So Dick’s death wasn’t fake, and additionally, he didn’t have anything to do with like, telling people about it, because he was literally comatose in the cave and recovering while Bruce was telling people....by the time Dick woke up in the cave, we already know that Alfred at least had already been convinced by Bruce that Dick was dead, so I have a kneejerk need to pushback against the Dick faked his death narrative by reminding people wherever possible that Dick had no agency in the spreading of that narrative. 

It happened without him being involved, and the only actual contribution he ever made to it was just not revealing he was alive before Grayson #12, after Bruce like.....emotionally, mentally and physically badgered him into accepting that doing so would be directly harmful to his family and he didn’t want to be the reason more people died when like, people had just died because he ‘let’ himself be captured and interrogated by Power Woman’s Lasso of Submission, did he?

SORRY TO BE PEDANTIC, just wanted to start this off on a clarification, even though I know the aim of your ask was very much in tune with the rest of my response. A lot of people don’t read the actual comics, so like, I’m never gonna skip over an opportunity to emphasize that the shorthand people use to refer to Dick’s death and the year he was with Spyral, is like, literally just shorthand for describing it. Its not actually an accurate description of how all that went down and who had the most hand in it).

BUT ANYWAY. BACK TO THE MEAT OF THE BEEF.

Okay so like, not only was the entire family and Bruce himself giving Dick shit for his death and Spyral, like, PAINFULLY egregious because it was literal victim blaming in every possible sense of the word....

None of it made a LICK of sense with ANY of their characterizations, and they ONLY all accepted it on face value because the Plot Demanded It, and when you're like, no, as a reader I say The Plot Demanded It is not a good enough reason for me to be like well sure, that makes sense......looking at the characters ACTUAL actions at face value pretty much just makes them all look like assholes?

Like, Tim has never gracefully accepted anyone's death. Ever. This is core characterization for him. He will go to the ends of the earth for his loved ones and to bring them back, prove they're not dead, refuse to let death be the final verdict for them. He was tempted to use the Lazarus Pit to bring his parents back to life. He refused to accept Bruce was dead long before he had any proof whatsoever of that theory. He tried to clone his BFF/future-husband Kon in his fucking basement like, dude was two whole inches away from going Full Dark Side in his quest to bring back a lost loved one no matter WHAT the cost.....and then you've got Dick unmasked onscreen, killed offscreen, and Bruce then reporting to the rest of them with zero inflection 'oh Dick's dead now. Its very sad' and Tim's just like, sure. Sounds legit.

I mean?!?!

And you're SO RIGHT ABOUT THE DAMIAN THING! Bruce LITERALLY LITERALLY LITERALLY went BEYOND the ends of the Earth, like, he full on chartered a fucking space ship to fly his whole family out to APOKOLIPS to bring Damian back from the dead by going to EXTREME lengths.....WHILE everyone else thought Dick was dead....

And not a single person looked at Bruce and was like, okay, not that we're not down to do this for Damian because we miss Stabby Smurf something fierce ourselves, but.....what the fuck is UP with you dude? Why aren't you displaying ANY hint of this same kind of energy in regards to your eldest son that you said you watched die right in front of you?

Like....I don't know that we were actually ever told that Dick's coffin was empty or had a fake in it, but like....this family of detectives who refuse to accept death, defy death, COME BACK FROM THE DEAD....not a single one of them said like, okay, if I'm gonna like, ACCEPT accept that Dick is dead and gone for good, I need to at least just see him one last time? That's literally all it would have taken for someone to realize hey something's a little wonky here. Where's the dead body, Pops?

Since when has Jason ever missed an opportunity to prove Bruce is a) full of shit, b) acting like an emotionless robot and all his kids deserve better especially when they've just like....died, c) just factually incorrect and wrong and jumped to a conclusion before it was conclusively proved, d) lying like a liar or e) all of the above?

Nobody even ASKED if Dick's body could be put in a Lazarus Pit? Yeah, Jason wouldn't necessarily recommend it himself, given what it put him through, but actually fuck that, I take that back, because I'm NOT actually of the opinion that Jason full on hates his life and actively spends every second of every day wishing he hadn't been resurrected, even if it had come with a huge buffet of additional trauma and pain.

And that's kinda what's implied when people just take it for granted that he would never be on board with any scenario involving using a Lazarus Pit to bring Dick back, because it suggests that based even just on his own experiences and feelings, he honestly believes Dick would prefer being dead and not have ANY further opportunities to be with his loved ones, his friends, help save the damn world again at some future point.....that Jason, projecting based just off himself, legit feels Dick would rather be dead than have another shot at life even WITH the downsides of Lazarus Pit usage? Nope. Sorry, I don't buy it.

Speaking of not buying it.....you know what was missing from all those soliloquies the others monologued at Dick about how they felt and were hurt and just devastated by his death, to such a point they can't seem to muster a single shred of happiness that he's NOT dead still -

(seriously, Damian was the ONLY person in ALL THE LANDS OF EMOTION-HAVING who expressed ANY kind of positive reaction to having Dick back. We were so fucking cheated of like.....ANY opportunity to have the characters show just how much they valued him by just being fucking HAPPY he was alive, no matter what else was involved....and then most of fandom compounded that by for years being like mmmm, no, Dick didn't get yelled at enough by his family for what HE put THEM through. Needs more yelling. More punching too. Bad Dick. Bad. This is the only way you'll learn not to die and get shipped off on a mission that you don't want but at least is to protect your family after being beaten into it by your dad whilst victim blaming you for dying in the first place. WHEN WILL YOU LEARN TO THINK ABOUT OTHER PEOPLE AND THEIR FEELINGS FOR A CHANGE, DICK?!?)

- But like, BUT I DIGRESS aside....you know what was missing from all those monologues about how hard DICK'S death and ensuing year of basically exile from his loved ones was for EVERYONE BUT HIM?

We never got a single line of explanation as to what everyone else officially thinks even happened to him in the first place?

Like, did Bruce straight up just say oh bad news kids, your brother umm. Expired. Spontaneously. There's no one to blame, he just keeled over, its all very sad.

Is that how that went down?

You're telling me that the explanation of Dick's death didn't come with a single pointed finger at someone for this family of blame-happy vigilantes to like, BLAME for the loss of this brother they all mourned oh so much, they just couldn't help but blame him for all the hurt it caused them?

The family that in every other fic is like OBSESSED with avenging and being avenged and all things vengeful and even tangentially vengeance-y....like didn't ask for a single detail on whomst the fuck deprived us of our brother-having?

Where were the attempts on Luthor's life by Jason (who I mean, yeah I know it was in a previous continuity, but erasing that timeline doesn't erase my awareness of the time Dick killed Jason's murderer so like.....mmm, just saying, woulda been nice)....where was the rage directed at the Crime Syndicate and references to how seriously and personally the Batfam took making sure that they were PUNISHED for all this and would never be free to wreak havoc on their world or their family again? What did they tell Damian when he came back to life, and how are you going to tell me that this fraternal little ball of fury didn't aim himself like a cannonball at whomever the fuck had DARED take HIS Batman from him when Damian wasn't around to have his back?

Not only does everyone else's desire to be avenged start falling really flat the second you factor in hey maybe Dick feels "mmm what about MY avenging" sometimes, and why doesn't anyone ever care about doing that for him.....but also, y'know what REALLY sucks about the ONLY person we actually SEE being blamed for Dick's death and ensuing absence being like....Dick himself?

Not only were his family all super keen on making all of this HIS fault and HIM the bad guy because of how it made them all feeeeeeel (and meanwhile fuck his feelings, am I right Batfam hfaklshfklahfkla).....

They somehow found a way to justify prioritizing this OVER ever even getting around to blaming some villain for his death in the FIRST place, in the entire year or so they thought he was still dead!

Like, you couldn't come up with a single target in all that time, but Dick's back two seconds, and you don't even give him a chance to EXPLAIN before you're punching him, shutting him down with 'I expected better from you' and turning away with 'I don't want to hear it, why am I surprised Dick Grayson disappointed me again'?

afshklfhalfhalfhla

Make it make sense!

And like, it won't, cuz it doesn't, and it never will, and like I said at the top, the ONLY reason it all played out this way is because DC doesn't give a fuck about character development and deemed it necessary to go down this way for the sake of the plot (which was totes worth it, I mean, glad we sacrificed characters for this A+ plot which was clearly the greatest plot of all time and definitely justified every story choice made or not made around it loooool).

BUT.

BUT BUT BUT.

The problem isn't JUST that DC is stupid, even though that is an eternal mood and quite the problem.

Its that the SECOND large parts of fandom decided to play along with DC and just accept the story at face value, only add to it and play into it exactly as it happened in canon with no significant deviations, and like, heaping on the LITERAL abuse from Dick's siblings while ignoring the LITERAL abuse from his father....

THAT....is when all of this becomes relevant.

Because the second people decided TO engage with the reasoning DC gave for what Bruce did and how and what Dick did and how and just not mess with any of that and have it all play out exactly like that...

The second people are like, okay we're FINE with not just dismissing this story as OOC writing that doesn't make any sense, and actually VALIDATING it to various degrees by engaging with it as is....

That's when 'OOC writing' stops being an excuse or explanation for alllll of the above gaps in character logic and actions.

Because its like, when you had abundant chance to REJECT this story and say nope, this was bullshit from start to finish and I'm not here for it, when you were just as capable of transforming literally ANY aspect of this story you didn't like into something that made more sense to you....

And you chose not to.

That's.....accepting it as valid writing. You were like, okay, I'm game to just treat this as a thing that happened, just like they said that happened.

For the chance to give Dick shit for it, see. For the angst, see.

And that's when I'm like okay cool, so when engaging with this story as is and accepting it on face value and just delving into the characters as they were SHOWN interacting with and around these events......for the angst or whatever....

You guys just all decided en masse to just hop, skip and jump over allllllllll the opportunities for angst inherent in examining even ANY SINGLE ONE of the above lapses in judgment or hypocrisy on the parts of the characters (who don't get to be excused by OOC writing if you're not going to call the story an example of OOC writing, whoops).

And its just like, uh, what's up with that?

#lol thank you for this ask tho #I havent gone on a good Spyral rant in months #it does wonders for my pores

[bonesandthebees]

i just wanted to say, im currently re-reading clinic for a third time (twice to myself and the third is out-loud for a friend) and although i noticed this on my first read-through, i can’t get over how much detail you put into every single character for the world building. i can tell you’re someone who doesn’t watch JUST 2-4 streamers, and that you hop around various streams and create a lot of variety for what you watch, even when you have your own personal biases (as everyone does). I LOVE THAT SO MUCH. THANK YOU!!! or maybe i’m just reading too far into things and you somehow gathered a lot of knowledge about the various creators, but either way, it’s seriously appreciated!!!

like, the fic is mostly crimeboys/SBI/benchtrio centric, but i wanted to point out some of the details that a lot of other people who don’t watch a huge variety of streamers wouldn’t catch:

your characterization of foolish. you NAILED the mannerisms of his streamer counterpart and dsmp character PERFECTLY. i can *hear* how chipper and enthusiastic he is, despite the stress of working wayyy too many shifts for the cafe, similarly to how his dsmp character has reacted to the resurgence of the bloodvines. he still keeps a level of positivity in stressful situations, and the way you wrote him is just. so great. one scene in particular that really stands out to me is when tommy notices him injured with eret while in vigilante form. the whole, “to-toooonight? how are you doing tonight, random citizen?”. BRO. BRO I CAN HEAR HIM!!!!!!!!!!! I CAN HEAR IT!!!!!

second, the added detail that phil loves halo and has been playing it for years!!! a lot of typical philza viewers don’t really catch that he used to be a hardcore halo enjoyer, so i LOVE that that little detail was included :) i’m not familiar with the game itself, but the friend who i was reading the fic aloud to recognized the way you wrote how phil + tommy playing and said that he could visualize them playing a specific map and gamemode perfectly.

fran. you included fran. i am shaking your shoulders I LOVE FRAN!!! typically in fics that feature sam as a side character, they don’t really recognize how important fran is to sam. THANK U FOR INCLUDING THE SMP’S MOST BELOVED PUPPY <3 also, the added detail that sam used to be a hero but switched? his run-in and tension with ponk? amazing. perfectly parallel to his dsmp counterpart.

techno’s love for potatoes. him being completely engrossed in a documentary about polar bears and loving one named steve in particular. yes yes yes.

jack wanting to name himself and niki by being inspired by greenland and icelands’ tactics for “confusing the enemy”. niki thinks it’s silly but she goes along with it anyway and she’s still fond of the idea. a wonderfully accurate depiction of their dynamic :’)

clinic!george being apathetic as fuck. yes. exactly like his smp character. a lot of people seem to make george in fics more emotional/apathetic/generally aware of most situations, but this was a refreshing change to see. good shit.

your characterization of clinic!sapnap too!!!! also a mirror image of his SMP character!! the moral dilemma of seeing his friends do fucked up shit takes a toll on him both in clinic and on the SMP, and i love to think that if c!dream didn’t do the insanely fucked up shit to the degree that he took it, c!sapnap probably would’ve done something similar to clinic!sapnap. he would’ve stayed with him, because he’s his family (again, obvi this is if c!dream wasn’t as murderous/abusive/power hungry/generally cray cray as he actually is. a canon alternative).

and. and. and. for this last one i have to physically withhold myself from typing out too much because i KNOW i’m gonna gush a lot, but. THE ENTIRETY OF HOW YOU WROTE QUACKITY!!!! ALL OF HIM!!!! I AM SO NORMAL ABOUT THIS I AM SANE!!!!!!!

basically. basically. you have the most incredibly spot on interpretation of what kind of person AND villain quackity would be. you don’t understand. he’s my favorite villain of yours by far. the way that jester operates in being “a close business associate” with the syndicate and keeps his membership in this organization out of the public eye? oh my god. HE IS SO SLEEZY. HE OPERATES EXACTLY HOW C!QUACKITY WOULD. you have the best mixture of him being this funny, goofy dude that loves pulling jokes and being the comedy man, while also being an incredibly intelligent, resourceful, full of wits villain. he loved the chaos of things and fucking around, but knows how to get shit done. amazing. incredible. unbelievable. unstoppable. i want to take clinic!quackity/jester and put him in an oven /pos

AND. i must ask. is jester’s superpowers inspired by the fact that one of quackity’s go-to bits on stream + in mod videos is the fact that he changes his skin a shit ton? like he’ll hop from various bits and put on a different act/voice depending on the skin. ofc it’s not really the same, but was the shapeshifting inspired by that idea? idk if i’m reading too much into this, but major props even if you did that accidentally

ANYWAY!!!! i’m so sorry this is so long, this has been on my mind for a long time, and i just now got the energy to dump all of my passionate rambling on you. you are an incredibly talented author and i really really appreciate the details that you add for each and every character, it doesn’t go unnoticed and i appreciate it so much <3 i’m someone who watches a massive variety of streamers and it was so fun to catch all of these moments in the fic.

oh my god this just made me smile so so hard holy shit. first off, thank you for sending this giant essay to my inbox /gen i literally LOVE hearing stuff like this, especially when people notice smaller details like you pointed out! yes, I do in fact try to watch a lot of streamers! obviously I don't watch every single dsmp members lore streams bc i wouldn't have a life, but I try to watch at least several major lore streams for each person because I'm just genuinely interested in everyone's stuff going on on the smp?? and also I wanna be able to characterize them as best I can and I'm so glad that came through!

gonna talk about each of the things you pointed out but it'll be long so i'm putting it under a keep reading :)

i love c!foolish so much. i'm so happy you could hear his lines in his voice because he's such a chipper guy even when he's in a bad situation! he tries to make light of things even when he's panicking or super stressed!

and god yeah I didn't wanna make phil play minecraft in that scene because it felt just too... on the nose I guess? so since I knew that cc!phil has talked about his love of halo before i thought it would be a lot of fun to include! also, i'm very glad your friend recognized what I was referencing. I was never a super intense halo player, but I have fond memories of my dad and I playing a few maps on multi player together, and my go to thing was always to drive the 'ghost' vehicle I described. I loved flying as high as I could in it so I wanted to include that bit when tommy was playing it lol

also people who don't mention fran when writing sam have definitely never seen sam during the egg arc (which is a huge disservice because his egg lore was so good). mans had a whole manic episode destroying the vines and locking her away to keep her safe from the vines, fran is SO important to him so I always feel like i have to mention her when i write sam (and of course I had to mention ponk bc of how important they are to c!sam's development. c!sam is literally one of my favorite characters on the entire smp. I could go on for ages about him and I wanted to give him a really solid character in clinic even if he wasn't a big focus)

i love making techno love potatoes in all my fics. it's such a dumb bit but it's very funny to me

rocketduo are my beloveds oh my god. literally the reason i made an mcytblr account in the first place right around this time last year was because I desperately wanted to post my hot takes on c!rocketduos attempts to kill tommy. obviously they're less traumatized in clinic than they both are in dsmp, so they have a slightly lighter dynamic, and i loved getting to translate that to here!

literally i never understood why people always made george be some good guy in fics because c!george is literally the most apathetic guy around. he doesn't really give a shit about morality, he just does what he wants. there's so much wasted potential when people just use him to be part of dream's moral compass or whatever with sapnap. no! let george be dream's partner in his fucked up shit or just not care what dream's doing!

and then that ties into sapnap because if you make george apathetic as hell, it provides an even better foil to sapnap. c!sapnap is so good, i've loved seeing his shift in the dsmp as dream has gotten worse and worse. he's such a good and interesting character, and I'm glad you agree that if dsmp!dream was a bit less fucked up, dsmp!sapnap would probably still stick by his side. he's loyal! dream is his best friend! but he has limits, and in clinic dream wasn't as evil as dsmp!dream, so sapnap hadn't reached his breaking point yet. but it was still such a fun dynamic to play with and a great way for me to parallel him with tommy

oh my god yes quackity my BELOVED! every time my man quackity does one of his big lore streams i am sitting at my computer frothing at the mouth with popcorn because c!quackity is one of the best damn written characters on the dsmp. he is SO interesting, and i'm really glad i nailed that balance of humor and intelligence he has. he's charismatic, he knows how to make himself likable, but he's also grown ruthless over time and knows how to be a sharp businessman. i also want to put him in an oven. and yes you are spot on for why I made him a shapeshifter! i once saw a comic a long time ago that hc'd dsmp!quackity as a shapeshifter because of his constant switching skins for bits, and that just stuck with me. so when i was coming up with his power for clinic, i thought shapeshifter was absolutely perfect. so glad you caught that!

anyway tysm for this long message it really made my night :) I'm also so happy to hear you noticed all these tiny bits I included, I really love when people pick up on the small stuff I throw in there <3

#ask #long post #lostmellohi #bones writes

[thefanficmonster]

Phone Call Anxiety

Corpse Husband x Reader (Female)

Warnings: None

Genre: FLUFF, RPF (Real Person Fic)

Summary: When wanting to make quality merch, one needs a quality team there to produce and work on quality ideas. Great minds think alike. Great eyes see alike and great hands make alike - the three keys to the formula of creating a clothing line that will be fashionable and up to his brand. Luckily, Corpse knows just who to call.

Requested by Anon. Hi hun! Thank you so much for your wonderful request, I absolutely loved the idea! Sorry you’ve had to wait for it to be turned into a fic for so long, but I still hope you come across it and give it a read in which case I hope you enjoy it! Love, Vy ❤

He’s not a fan of phone calls. Anyone who knows him even remotely is very well informed on Corpse’s distaste for phone calls and upholding a conversation over the phone. He’d even go as far as to say talking to a person face to face is less stressful for him than that previous option.

But still, seeing as how the person he’s trying to reach lives in a different state and is rather busy all the time, arranging an IRL meeting is basically impossible at the moment, and sending her a text results in running the risk of having the text overlooked or completely lost in the sea of notifications she probably gets on the daily.

Therefore, a phone call was his only proper way of reaching her. And it’s what’s got him pacing the room with his nervousness peaking.  He doesn’t know anything about this girl, nothing concrete at least. He was referred to her by Jack who brought her up in their passing conversation when Corpse mentioned how paranoid he was regarding his upcoming merch project. He specifically stated he doesn’t want anything basic and he wants the clothes to be fashionable, suitable for anyone no matter the age or gender and to be endurable. With all the love he has for his fans, he doesn’t want to give them anything less than what they deserve - the best.

“My friend’s the person you’re looking for.“ Jack said enthusiastically and confidently, “She helped me design the latest merch line I put out and I’ve never been more satisfied with my own merch. I’m planning on offering her a position in Cloak for her birthday. Make sure not to let that one slip out if you give her a call though.“ He warned half-jokingly. 

Bottom line, with that kind of intro, Corpse couldn’t help but let his interest be piqued. And so, he asked for this girl - Y/N’s contact info from Jack before he went to surf through her social media where she thankfully posted plenty of pictures of her creations, never failing to mention specifications in the caption of each picture so the viewers would get the perfect and most detailed idea of how high the standard for her work is.

And so he’s finally managed to talk himself into dialing her number that’s been sitting in his phone for weeks now. As he paces his living room, his nerves chewing him out like a dog would with a toy, listening to the ear piercing ring of the dial waiting to get picked up by the girl he’s trying to reach. 

Just then, Corpse’s head turns so that his eyes meet the glowing red numbers on his digital clock on his desk and he damn near hangs up the call right away - it’s half an hour past midnight. Fast as lightning, he removes the phone from his ear, his thumb flying over to press the red ‘end call’ button. Just then, a faint ‘hello’ reaches his ears, coming from the phone’s speaker. She’s answered the call.

He hurries to put the phone back up to his ear.

“Hey, sorry for taking so long to pick up, I ought to clean my desk eventually cause my phone was literally BURIED under a pile of papers.“ A cheerful sing-song voice rattles his stale and sleep deprived consciousness, as if awakening him from a half-dream state. “You’re either a wrong number caller or a last minute client, aren’t you? Need something done urgently?“

Corpse is taken the hell aback by her strong and downright awing first impression. Not to mention her energy at an hour unsuitable for calls. Lord knows he wouldn’t have picked up if her were in her spot. With the intention of not wasting any more of her time than necessary, he hurries to explain his situation. “Y/N, right? Um no, I’m neither actually. I was told about you by a friend, he said you were a real miracle-doer with fashion design.” He trails off for a second, not completely sure of how to hold this conversation, “Uh, sorry for the odd timed call, I lost track of time. I’ve been meaning to call you for hours now but I...I was nervous.” He cringes the second the word leaves his lips, leaving a bitter taste in his mouth. He doesn’t know why he wants to leave her with a great, better than realistic impression of himself but he does and as of now he deems his attempts as ultimate failures.

He hears her giggle from her end, rifling through what sounds to be papers, “Yeah, I’m her. And boy is it refreshing to get someone who’s calling with an actual purpose.” She sighs as if a weight’s been lifted off her shoulders, “And don’t worry about the phone call anxiety. Makes two of us, to be honest.”

This catches him off-guard. The last thing he’d expect is for this girl to have phone call anxiety. In fact, she appears to be a natural, God-given talent at carrying conversations and upholding chit-chat with people. Maybe he’s a little too quick to judge - probably, considering he’s ‘known’ her for less than five minutes and knows nothing but her occupation, her name and the state she lives in - but that bubbly persona she greeted him with gave off the impression that it’s immune to any and all kinds of social anxiety - or anxiety in general. To hear such an honest and counter-to-assumptions confession on her part rattles him a tiny bit. In a good way though.

“How does that work for you? Isn’t your whole job depending on your phone conversational skills?“ He doesn’t mind that he didn’t phrase that too perfectly or that he straight up blurted it out. He knows he’ll be understood. She’s obviously a person who understands. Not just something specific, but everything. She simply understands. How he drew this conclusion and how accurate it is, he may not know until further notice.

“Well...“ she sighs as if genuinely looking to give him a proper answer, “You see, after doing it for so long and having been caught off guard quite a few times with some absolutely absurd orders, I’ve grown prepared of literally ANYTHING and I have a line prepared for anything the caller has to say. I just no longer let them catch me off guard and it’s fine. Helps avoid any possible awkward silences.“

Corpse’s eyebrows shoot up, her explanation only raising more questions rather than providing answers. But he’s not gonna be the annoying dumbass asking those questions at close to 1AM and bugging her. After all, if she agrees to this partnership, they’ll be hearing and potentially seeing a lot more of each other soon. “Impressive, honestly. You’re gonna need to teach me sometime.“ He’s unaware he’s smiling until he catches his reflection in the window. However, he doesn’t bother hiding it. This conversation is actually making him feel good, serving as a reminder that he’s not the only one who periodically goes through turmoil over small things. 

She giggles again, this time the sound manages to draw a blush out of him, coating his cheeks, “I’d typically stray for revealing my secrets to professional success, but I’m willing to make an exception for you...” she pauses for a second as though she’s just now remembered something, “Oh shoot, I don’t even know your name.”

He wheezes out a nervous laugh, realizing he never introduced him, “Oh yeah, sorry, that’s my bad. My name’s Corpse, nice to meet ya.”

“Nice to meet you too, Corpse.“ Y/N replies, sounding pleased but teasing simultaneously, “Now tell me, you didn’t call me about my phone call secrets, did you? What may be the real purpose of your call?“

Oh shoot, he himself almost forgot what he was calling for. Luckily, the reference designs displayed on his computer screen remind him. “Right, well, I’ve been thinking of launching a new merch line either this month or the next, depending on how long the procedure will take, and I needed someone great on my team to make some merch actually worth the money people are paying for it. And, as I said, I was told you were in that ‘someone great’ category.”

“Told by who, if you don’t mind me asking?“ She briefly cuts him off, her voice now giving away the fact that she’s half-absent-minded in this conversation, added evidence be the ruffling of more papers on her end.

“Jack. I mean, Sean. You know, Jacksepticeye.“ Corpse explains, contemplating whether he should’ve ratted Jack out like that. Hearing the sound of delight Y/N lets out eases his worries ASAP though.

“Oh Gosh, I haven’t seen that cutie in so long! He’s like a brother to me so a friend of Jack’s is a friend of min-“ this time she cuts herself off so abruptly Corpse thought the line was cut or she hung up on him. She doesn’t let him wonder for long though, “Wait, wait, wait....Merch? And you’re friends with Jack?“ She pauses for a second once again, once again not a long enough second for Corpse to speak up. “You’re a famous YouTuber, aren’t you?“

He was completely unaware of the fact Y/N hadn’t realized he was someone famous yet. In fact, he didn’t think of it because he thought it wouldn’t be a big deal to her considering she’s friends with Jack-fucking-septiceye! In his mind, his ranking is far lower than Jack’s - despite that mindset being absurd - so the last thing he expected was for her to have some sort of impressed reaction to have been talking to him on the phone this whole time. Hell, she doesn’t even know his full YouTube name or what kind of content he produces.

“WAIT!“ She shouts urgently, startling him a tiny bit, “You’re Corpse Husband, aren’t you? Oh my God, yes you are, how didn’t I put it together sooner? Ah crap, I really need more coffee for this.“

“No! No, you need more sleep.“ Corpse hurries to correct her but is very clearly ignored or overlapped with the many sounds that are coming from her end, “What are you doing?“

“You’re getting the first rough sketch of a design by tomorrow morning.“ She says, taking a sip of whatever beverage she’s acquired for the purpose of keeping her awake, “You go ahead and get some sleep, I know exactly what I’m doing. Don’t worry about it.“

“I’m not worried about the design.“ He hurries to say before she, God forbid, hangs up on him, “It’s 1AM, woman, you need sleep! I don’t need those designs done by tomorrow. Hell, I don’t even need them this week!“

“You don’t, but I do.“ Y/N says, sounding almost breathless because of what seems to be overwhelming excitement, “You don’t get it - I’m designing merch for Corpse fucking Husband! You have any idea how crazy that is?“

“I personally would say it’s underwhelming. I mean, I’m no Pewdiepie, after all.“ He says, now sat at his desk with his free hand rubbing his temple as he stares at the designs he’s pulled up on his screen, ones he probably won’t need given that he’s now working with a professional.

“Oh, shut it.“ She chuckles, “Shut it and get some sleep, ok? I’ll talk to you in the morning.“

“Noooo...“ He leisurely stretches the word, “Tell me, Y/N, do you have Discord?” She clicks her tongue instantly, giving him a signal that the question he’s asked is bordering into the territory of ridiculous. He playfully rolls his eyes, “Alright then, lemme find you. If we’re partnering up on this, we’re both staying up.”

“You know you can just straight up tell me you don’t fully trust me with this? Like, I won’t be offended, I get it.“ She murmurs in-thought, the sound of clicking evident on her end. 

“You know you can just straight up tell me you don’t want me bothering you and want me to leave you alone?“ He mimics her statement, smirking to himself as he pulls up Discord, knowing he’s already won.

She huffs and tells him her Discord info, quickly adding a small comment, “...but only because great minds think alike. I know we’ll be getting along on this design pretty nicely.”

“Yeah, yeah, right, sure, whatever you say.“ He laughs, “Accept my friend request and let’s drop this phone call.“

“Hey! - um, before we do that, I just wanna say a quick thank you.“ Y/N murmurs quietly, as if half-hoping he doesn’t hear her.

“For what?“ Corpse asks, his brows furrowing, unsure if they’re on the same page about this gratitude.

“For never once triggering my phone call anxiety.“ She admits, “I mean, I know I said I have lines prepared for every conversation scenario possible, but you totally caught me off-guard.“ She giggles a tiny bit, now sounding dangerously close to nervous, “But, not in a bad way, if that makes sense. Sorry if it doesn’t, I need more coffee.“

“No, no, it does!“ He hurries to reassure her, “It really does. And thank you too. Thank you for, you know, tolerating my BS at this hour. God knows I would’ve ignored your call if our roles were reversed.“

He hears her scoff and can’t help but laugh, “Huh ok, I see.“ She says, sounding greatly triggered and mock-pissed at his confession, “I’ll make sure to think of that next time you call me after midnight. Or at all, ever.“

Laughing his butt off, the only thing Corpse can think of in this moment is:

Damn, this girl and I are gonna get along

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[saltybaltic]

Can we get a fic with Natasha fucking carol mercilessly and the Reader is cuffed to a chair watchind!!!

Natasha Romanoff X Carol Danvers X FemReader - CUFFED

Synopsis: I think the request says it all really 🤷‍♀️

Warnings: 18+ content, smut, restraints, slight Dom/sub undertones if you squint

Words: 970

Reluctantly you had to admit it; this truly was the most wonderful form of torture. Despite knowing it would do nothing to help your situation, you tugged on the leather cuffs that secured you to each of the arms of the chair you currently found yourself stuck in. You supposed it was more for something to do than anything, finding the fact you could literally do nothing the most frustrating thing about your predicament. You wanted to shift in your seat slightly. Wipe at your face that was burning hot now, beads of sweat starting to gather at your temples. Squeeze your thighs together maybe to alleviate some of the pressure. 

The tight cuffs around your ankles anchoring you to the front legs of the old wooden chair made sure none of that was possible. Or should you say Natasha had made sure of that. She could have at least given you a nicer chair to sit in, one that didn’t look like it had been pulled out of an old classroom from the previous century. It was out of place in the room, everything else about Natasha’s bedroom predicatably nice. Even the smaller details were perfect; from the many candles that were illuminating the scene before you, to the beautiful silk bedsheets that covered the bed the other women were occupying.

God you wanted to move. But looking down and trying to work out an escape would mean tearing your eyes away from them. And the only thing worse than being made to watch would be not being able to watch. 

Everything was overwhelming to the senses. The air in the room was hot and stuffy after what felt like hours of frantic heavy breathing. Your ears rang with every sound that hit them. Pants for air. Moans of pleasure. The dark, smug chuckle of a woman who knew she was fucking someone good. The blood pulsing and ringing in your own ears as your body burned with arousal. The wet, filthy noises of the strap sinking in and out at a bruising pace.

You hated the way they were acting like you weren’t even in the room. Neither woman so much as glancing in your direction no matter how much you tried to move or how many desperate whimpers left your lips. You hated it and yet you couldn’t get enough of it.

Hoping things were about to change, you held your breath and watched quietly as for the first time that evening, Natasha slowed her pace to a stop and gave Carol a second of respite. The blonde looked absolutely spent, sucking in short, shallow breaths as she took the opportunity to push damp hair out of her face and wipe at her forehead. You waited patiently for what would happen next, hoping Natasha would acknowledge you, allow Carol to come over and release you from your restraints, that one of them would touch you, kiss you, look at you, anything. But it never came.

Instead you were left wanting, bunching your eyes closed for a second in frustration as you clenched and unclenched your fists. Natasha smirked, the only real sign that she wasn’t oblivious to your torment in the corner, gripping the underside of Carol’s thighs and pushing her further up the bed on her back. Natasha moved with her, shuffling forward on her knees and settling herself back between the other woman’s legs as she leaned down to grip Carol’s face harshly between her fingers and connect their lips. 

You were certain you started to salivate at the sight, mouth hanging slightly agape in desperate need for those to be your lips that Natasha was pushing her tongue through. The kiss looked sloppy and messy, tongues moving together as Natasha pinched her fingers harder into Carol’s cheeks and took control of the embrace.

The kiss still didn’t do much in quietening the noise in the room, especially when the red head gave a rough thrust forward and pushed the strap back into Carol who released the loudest groan yet into Natasha’s mouth. The sound was incredible, the sight even more so as you swallowed the lump that had formed in your throat and continued to watch eagerly. You were so turned on it was bordering on uncomfortable, unable to control the fruitless attempts of wriggling and squirming in your seat.

Despite the frustration, the downright torture of what was unfolding, you couldn’t think of anything you’d rather watch. Your eyes were drawn to everything, each sight sending another shiver down your spine or a twinge between your legs. You were drinking in every detail as if your life depended on it.

The way Carol’s hands had travelled above her head, gripping the sheets beneath her in a vice grip as Natasha appeared to be showing absolutely no mercy. The blondes mouth hung open, moans, whimpers and pleas leaving her with more frequency now. The rhythm of Natasha’s hips was hypnotising, hitting Carol with smooth, deep strokes that seemed to have Carol’s eyes literally rolling back into her head. The way both women’s skin glistened in the candlelight, toned muscles and soft flesh shimmering with a sheen of sweat that was evidence of just how long and how good Natasha had been fucking Carol.

Carol cried out, loud, the sound of Natasha’s name echoing off the walls and sending a shudder through your body as the red head reached down to stroke her thumb over Carol’s clit. Your jaw was starting to ache from clenching it, heart hammering now and white crescents marking your palms from balling your hands into fists. You could tell that Carol was getting close, her grip tightening on the sheets and her thighs starting to tremble either side of Natasha’s waist.

Natasha seemed to sense it too, somehow managing to pick up her bruising pace further as she leaned down to press her mouth against Carol’s.

“You gonna come for me?” taunted Natasha, a knowing smirk painting her lips as she circled her thumb more firmly over Carol’s clit.

The blonde nodded her head hurriedly, only able to offer a loud moan in response.

Natasha’s grin broadened, “Then you better make sure I hear how good I make you come.”

The way Natasha had groaned the words into Carol’s mouth, the way Carol had closed her eyes and whimpered in response, the way those words had to be for your benefit. It was all too much and yet somehow not enough. You were desperate now, and the only thing you wanted more than for someone to pay you attention, was to watch Natasha fuck Carol until she came.

Carol’s hands moved from the sheets to the top of Natasha’s thighs, fingers sinking in to her skin firmly as a silent plea not to let up. That she could take it and she needed the other woman to continue pretty much pounding her into the mattress. Not that Natasha had any intention of doing otherwise, the hand that wasn’t busy stroking over Carol’s clit coming up to grip at the headboard that was rattling and creaking with every rough thrust forward.

Your mouth was definitely watering now, your own breathing getting heavier and skin flushing hotter than you could have imagined. You were thirsty for it, maybe more so than Carol; a heavy feeling in the pit of your stomach and a pressure between your legs that you knew wasn’t going to be relieved until you got what you wanted. The twitch in Carol’s fingers and the increased frequency of her moans told you it wouldn’t be long.

“That’s it.” encouraged Natasha, a strain to her own words now as the effort of her work started to take its toll on her breathing, “Come on baby, you’re doing so good.”

Carol could do nothing but take it, too far gone to be able to focus on anything but how good it felt. Every hard, deep thrust from Natasha hitting her just right. She was unsure how the red head was managing to stroke over her clit so perfectly and accurately with how wet she surely was by now but wasn’t about to complain. She could feel Natasha’s eyes burning into her with a look of pure desire and fascination, the desperation to watch her as her orgasm hit only turning her on further.

“Oh my god Nat, I’m gonna come.” Carol sounded half way between surprised and relieved, the words no more than a strangled cry at this point as her grip tightened on Natasha’s thighs and she bucked her hips up to meet the other woman’s movements, “Jesus ... yes, yes, I’m coming.”

You actually whined, features scrunching up in some sort of mixture of intense pleasure and frustration. Your arms twisted and turned in the restraints, tugging at them hopelessly as you shifted back and forth in your seat, wanting more than anything to be able to move more. If you could just have one free hand, one hand to reach into the waistband of your underwear and relieve some of the pressure.

A loud moan from Carol and a satisfied sound from Natasha distracted you from your turmoil momentarily, your mouth hanging open and a gasp caught in your throat as you watched another rough thrust from Natasha push Carol over the edge. You could do nothing but watch; Carol’s back arching off the bed, fingers digging painfully into Natasha’s thighs and toes curling into the bed sheets as she released a final groan of Natasha’s name.

“Fucking Christ.” your words came out as barely a whisper, too awestruck to even register the fact you had spoken aloud. It was hideous to be so powerless and so left out but damn if it wasn’t one of the most magnificent things you’d ever seen.

Carol was gulping in air, finally releasing Natasha’s thighs from her grip and raising her hands to her face as she panted for breath. She was sporting a grin that showed just how good the other woman had made her feel, a soft moan spilling from her lips as Natasha raised her hips enough to slowly remove the strap from her pussy.

“My god.” chuckled Carol, removing her hands from her face and tugging Natasha down to her level to connect their lips.

Natasha indulged the embrace for a moment before tilting her face a fraction to break the kiss, “Good?”

Carol nodded, pecking Natasha’s lips again, “So fucking good.”

“You think ... anyone else deserves the same?” asked Natasha.

You had been sitting impatiently but silently, knowing Natasha well enough that if you wanted something, begging and pleading was the worst tactic you could try. But at the red heads words, your head snapped up eagerly. Of course you were desperate by now, your skin still burning hot and breathing uneven despite the fact that the other women seemed to have calmed somewhat. You were sure you must have soaked through your underwear and onto the seat below you by now, your wrists sore from working against the restraints that held you in place.

Carol hummed in thought, one hand reaching up to push Natasha’s hair out of her face, “I don’t know ... I suppose she has behaved quite well while we had our fun.”

Finally. Finally they acknowledged you. Natasha turning her head to skim her eyes over you in the corner. It was obvious how much of a state you were in and she couldn’t help but smirk at the sight.

Leaning down to press a kiss to a Carol’s temple, Natasha’s eyes remained locked with yours as she spoke quietly, “Let her out of those cuffs then Captain.”

#Carolnat #Carol Danvers x reader #Natasha Romanoff x reader #Natasha Romanoff smut #Carol Danvers smut #Carol x natasha #black widow #Captain marvel

[with-love-from-hell]

Music Accompaniment for Vermillion Skies (parts 1 & 2)

First off, thank you all for the interactions and love thus far for the Vermillion Skies fic! It was very relieving to write the first two parts as a survivor- and again, something that I do quite enjoy is when Abusers get served their comeuppance after the trauma they inflict on someone else- but unfortunately it doesn’t happen all that often. 

In regards to my writings, my motivations can sometimes vary. However, I took a really interesting quiz once that was titled “What emotion do you write from?” or something of the like. For the life of me, I cannot find the post where I took the quiz (if anyone has it, let me know!). But I ended up getting the result of “Pain,” which was surprising to me at first- but then I looked through my original draft of Vermillion Skies and thought...yeeaaah accurate lol 

However, I do think that while I tend to utilize pain a lot in my writing, something that glares behind it is the idea of hope and comfort. I like instilling that in my audience, because I think it is necessary for us to endure the pain of just....living in general. 

I have gotten a lot of asks on where the inspirations come from- and in a broader sense, my own experience, desire to see abusers suffer, and need for a good depiction of a masculine person's response is pretty much it. But I also use Music as a way to inspire my writings. When I think of a scenario/subject, I will often play music that may match the vibe of the situation, and run with it. So for those who want to know in a more detailed way where my inspiration comes from- or for those who have similar inclinations and would like an official soundtrack to Vermillion Skies, here is what I listened to while writing it! I broke it down between parts and scenes (scenes are within the breaks in the writing, parts are the separate posts). If there was a particular part of a scene the music relates to more, I will specify that! Hope this gives clarity to those asks- I figured I’d make one large master post of it rather than answering individually!

Part One

Scene 1

Sunflower - Swae Lee ft. Post Malone (Introduction)

Bury a Friend - Billie Eilish (Something Isn't Right)

Save Me - Globus (Assault - Her Perspective)

The Handler - Muse (Assault - Her Perspective)

Emperors New Clothes - Panic! At the Disco (Assault - His Perspective)

Magnum Bullets - Night Runner ft. Dan Avidan (Discovered Body)

Scene 2

Running Up That Hill - Placebo (Initial Fear/Running Home)

Warning Signs - The Anix (We Need To Find Her) 

Magnum Bullets - Night Runner ft. Dan Avidan (Discovered Body)

Hit and Run - Abused Romance (Waiting for Simeon)

Waking the Demon - Bullet For My Valentine (Realization/Other Matters)

Scene 3

And the Snakes Start to Sing - Bring Me the Horizon (Stalking)

The Wolf - SIAMÉS (Stalking)

Wolf Totem - The Hu ft. Jacoby Shaddix (The Scent is Stronger)

You’re Going Down - Sick Puppies (Finding the Attacker)

Take Back The Fear - Hail the Villain (Taking His Tongue)

Baptize - Atreyu (The Whole Beating)

Out for Blood - Sum 41 (The Whole Beating)

Rise - A Skylit Drive (The Whole Beating)

Blood on My Hands - The Used (The Whole Beating)

Face Down - The Red Jumpsuit Apparatus (Begging for Mercy/Mutilation)

Grave Mistake - Ice Nine Kills (Begging for Mercy/Mutilation)

Throne - Bring Me the Horizon (Taking to the Sky)

I Hope You Suffer - AFI (The Fall)

Part Two

Scene 1

Warrior - Atreyu (Back Home)

Failure - Breaking Benjamin (Back Home)

Wreckage - Ben Jelen (Entering His Room)

Valentines Day - Linkin Park (She’s Resting)

Hurt (Cover) - Johnny Cash (She's Resting/Trying to Touch Her)

All Fall Down - OneRepublic (Rest)

Scene 2

Nothing’s Gonna Hurt You Baby - Cigarettes After Sex (The Dream)

Everything Stays (Cover) - Amanda Pedersen (The Dream)

Shadow of the Day - Linkin Park (You’ll Never Laugh Again)

Scars - I Prevail (Lucifer's Woe)

Pale & Naked Name - The Pusher (Lucifer’s Woe)

Just Stay - A Skylit Drive (I Don’t Blame You)

Sleepwalker - The Anix (The Dream is Now a Nightmare)

My Demons - Starset (The Dream is Now a Nightmare)

Last to Fall - Starset (Come Back to Him)

Without You - Breaking Benjamin (Come Back to Him)

Scene 3

Talk - Coldplay (Conversing with Mammon)

Comes and Goes in Waves - Greg Laswell (Mammon’s Break Down)

Foreigner’s God - Hozier (Mammon’s Break Down)

Brother - NeedtoBreathe ft. Gavin DeGraw (Comforting Mammon)

Coming Home - BUNT. ft. Sons of the East (Will Things Be Different?)

Through Glass - Stone Sour (Everyone is Resting)

Kristy, Are you Doing Okay? - The Offspring (Watching Over You)

Scene 4

Nothing to Lose But You - Three Days Grace (Whole Scene)

Unwell - Matchbox 20 (Barbatos is Suspicious)

How it Feels to Be Lost - Sleeping with Sirens (Diavolo's Joke/How Does He Explain?)

Falling Apart in a Crowded Room - A Skylit Drive (Trying to Keep Composure)

Pity Party (Cover) - Vigils (Lucifer’s Break Down) {{I absolutely abhor Melanie Martinez, but this cover is good and a better take of the original}}

Without You - Breaking Benjamin (Lucifer's Break Down)

Grave Mistake - Ice Nine Kills (Lucifer’s Break Down)

Heavy - Linkin Park ft. Kiiara (Comforting Lucifer)

Read Vermillion Skies here

#obey me #Obey Me! #Obey me swd #shall we date: Obey me #obey me fic #obey me fluff #obey me comfort #obey me lucifer #obey me dark #obey me imagines #obey me headcanons #Vermillion Skies #obey me angst #inspirations #Music

[boqvistsbabe]

His Baby Girl - Matthew Tkachuk

So here is the Matty fic I’ve been talking about forever. I’m sorry it’s taken so long, I’ve been going through a kind of rough patch so motivation is hard for me to come by. I came up with the idea when I was going through some intense baby fever. Also grammar and formatting will be bad, and i probably won’t fix it just for times sake. I hope y’all like it.

Word count: 1,170

Warnings: brief mentions of birth (not in detail), pregnancy, maybe some swearing

Disclaimer: ya girl has never had a child before and I haven’t really been around anyone that was pregnant (except for as a child) and the ones I have been near had complications (everything ended fine) and it was years ago so I don’t remember much. I also do not want to do a lot of research for this cause that makes me loose motivation, so this will probably not be super accurate on the pregnancy/birth part.

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

Your body was completely exhausted. You had two days till your due date and you felt like you were about to pop. Matt had been the best help around the house and with you. He had been able to take on most of the workload when your doctor told you it was time to stop doing physical things. He had taken your intense and sometimes aggressive mood swings in stride.

Your water broke in the middle of the night. In the middle of the one night you had actually gotten to sleep on time in the last few weeks. Because despite being achy and tired most of the time, you still couldn’t manage to fall asleep when you got in bed. You had tonight though. It took all of a second to wake your sleeping husband up. He looked half dead and you felt bad, but you kind of didn’t have a choice.

“Matt, baby, my water broke we need to go to the hospital.” You spoke with a slight urgency in your voice.

“Mkay let me get the stuff out to the car then I can help you out there. Do not and I repeat, do not try and go down those stairs without me.” Was his mumbled response as he got out of bed and slipped a tshirt on. He put some shoes on and left the room.

The stuff you would need to go to the hospital was by the front door so it was ready to go whenever. You had double and triple checked the bags to make sure you had absolutely everything you could possibly need. The car seat was already in the car so Matt didn’t have to worry about that.

Matt returned moments later, “ the car is running and everything is in it except you,” he said as he walked over to where you had sat on the edge of the bed after changing into some clean sweats.

You were halfway to the hospital and you were stressed. You were worried you weren’t gonna be a good enough mom. What if you failed your kid? What if they hated you?

“Matt,” There was a sense of urgency in your voice that you didn’t mean to let slip, “what if I’m not a good mom?”

“Baby, look at me. You are going to be the best mom and I know it. You have been able to take care of me when I wasn’t feeling well. You’ve helped Taryn with stuff not even mom could help her with. Brady comes to you before he even thinks about coming to me. You’ve even helped the guys on the team when they didn’t know who else to go to. You are an amazing person and you’re going to be an even better mother. I promise you.”

You had tears in your eyes as you brought your intertwined hands up to your lips to press a soft kiss to Matt’s hand. The rest of the drive was silent except for the soft music that filled the car.

You cried tears of joy when you heard your daughters first cry reach your ears. After eight hours of labor and two hours of pushing, your baby girl had finally entered the world.

Matt was sure his heart was going to burst. As he saw the two of them together, his heart swelled. He didn’t think he could love her anymore than he already did, but he does. There you, his wife, was holding your baby girl. His baby girl. He was a father.

“Hey Dad? Do you wanna hold your daughter?” You asked him. When he looked up to meet your eyes he knew you could see the tears there. He silently nodded and moved closer to the bed.

You thought you were going g to die of cuteness as you watched Matt slowly rock back and forth, mumbling nonsense to your daughter.

Matt couldn’t think of anything more he could want in this world. He had an amazing wife and an adorable baby girl. His baby girl. She already had him wrapped around her little finger. She looked just like him too. Bright blue eyes and blonde tufts of hair on her head.

When you got home from the hospital you were both exhausted and wanted nothing more than to go to bed. Well that’s the way you felt. You were sore and achy and Matt, well Matt looked alive. Well maybe not looked it, but he was certainly acting more like it than you were. You were all three cuddled up in your bed. Matt was holding your daughter on his chest as he ran a large hand up and down her back. You were about to die from cuteness overload and you weren’t complaining.

Matt couldn’t still couldn’t believe it. He was a dad. He was a father. A father to the beautiful baby girl you had decided to name Isabella May Tkachuk. Or Bella for short. He didn’t think he could love anyone as much as he loved you, but that was before Bella came along.

When you woke up the next morning you were alone. Your husband wasn’t next to you and your daughter was missing from the bassinet next to your bed. And the clock read eleven o’clock. It seems that Matt decided to let you sleep in while you could. As you padded slowly down the stairs you could hear Matt talking. When you rounded the corner and saw him sitting on the couch watching some old game tape of his, with Bella on his bare chest as he explained what was going on to her; even though he knew she couldn’t understand a thing he was saying. You just about melted right then and there. Then when he gently pressed a kiss to her forehead and told your daughter that he loved her, you did melt.

“Morning Matty,” you mumbled as you walked around the couch and gingerly sat next to him.

“Mornin baby.” He looked over at you with a big smile.

“Already teaching her how to play?” You asked him.

“Of course. She’s a natural I just know it.”

“Think she’s gonna be as good as her dad?”

“She’s gonna be better. She’s gonna be a household name. Isabella Tkachuk greatest hockey player ever. I can see it now.”

“Let’s not get too ahead of ourselves yet. Maybe we should start with breakfast.”

“Mmm, it’s already on the table ready whenever you are.”

“Thank you baby. After I eat I’ll feed Bella.”

“Mmkay.” Was all you got in response as you walked into the kitchen.

Matt doesn’t think he’ll ever get over his little Isabella. With her sparkling blue eyes and her mother’s nose. He was obsessed. And he already knew he was gonna have to worry about boy or girl drama with his baby. His little girl. His baby girl. Isabella May Tkachuk had his whole heart and he was okay with that. Cause she was his baby girl.

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

Sorry that this took forever to come out. And on top of that it wasn’t that great. Here it is though. I hope y’all enjoyed it even with how shitty it turned out. I also have another Matty Dad fic that hopefully I can get out in the next few weeks. <— that one is the one that’s actually on my WIP list.

Tagging some friends: @jamiedrysdales @joshsandersons @pierreslucdubois @bowenbyram @stickrabbits @workhorsefromwhitehorse24 @calgarycanuck

#sam writes #this didn’t turn out as good as I hoped it would #I’m sorry it took forever and it didn’t end up great #matthew tkachuk #matthew tkachuk fic #matthew tkachuk imagine #matty tkachuk #matty Tkachuk imagine #matty Tkachuk fic #nhl fic #Matthew Tkachuk x reader #matty Tkachuk x reader #nhl x reader #nhl imagine #matty dad fic #hockey fic #hockey imagine #hockey imagines #hockey fics #Calgary flames fic #calgary flames imagine

[scapegrace74-blog]

New Ways of Turning into Stone, Chapter 6

A/N Where does the time go?  I lugged my laptop 7,000km round trip with the sole intention of working on this fic, but that apparently didn’t happen.  For those who found the last chapter hard to bear, I apologize in advance.  I am not quite finished being cruel.  With that said, trigger warning for character death, childhood disease, suicide ideation.  The chapter title is Sleeping in the Clouds.

The first five chapters are available on my AO3 page.

Five Months Later

A persistent mechanical bleating lifted Claire from the indeterminate depths of medicated sleep.  The emergency contact number she provided to all her patients was programmed to forward to her mobile, where a particularly aggravating ringtone ensured she would never miss a call.  Even at one am on a Tuesday night.

Fumbling for the device, she glanced at the unfamiliar number before answering.

“Doctor Beauchamp speaking.”  Her voice was gritty and rough.  She reached for a half-filled tumbler of water while waiting for the caller to identify themselves.  Over the line she could make out muted traffic noise, and perhaps a distant foghorn, but no-one spoke.

“Hello?” she inquired, torn between concern that a patient needed her and frustration that she might have been woken by a misdialed number.

“If you’re one of my patients, you need to talk to me so that I can help you.”

There was an intake of breath, a weepy sniffle, and then the click of the call being terminated.  A prickle of gooseflesh washed over her.  She couldn’t say exactly how, but she knew who had called, and that he needed her.

One of the grim perks of her job was that she had backdoor access to reverse look-up for telephone numbers, in cases where there was a threat of self-harm or harm to others.  As Claire hastily donned socks and grabbed a winter coat, she waited on hold for the PSAP operator to provide an address.

“We’re in luck, Doctor Beauchamp.  It wasna a mobile number.  In fact, tis a telephone booth.  Gote Lane, in Queensferry.  Down near the... umm, next tae the bridge.”

Without so much as a thank you, she hung up and frantically punched the app for an Uber.

Fifteen nail biting minutes and an excessive tip later, she stood in front of an empty phone booth.  Predictably, the directory had been torn out, leaving only a thin metal cord and car-key graffiti inside the cramped interior.  But on top of the phone itself she found a familiar ecru business card, her name and credentials embossed in black font.

“Damn it, Jamie,” she muttered to herself, palming the card.

If he’d hung up and started walking towards the bridge, she might be able to catch him if she ran all out, but something called her towards the nearby shore instead.

The tide was out, leaving a narrow strip of beach and sharp, slimy rocks exposed to the heavy air.  Her nostrils were assaulted by the briny vegetative rot of the retreating sea.

On a weathered bench facing the river, encircled by a cone of foggy streetlight, sat a man, his eyes trained on the smudgy lights of the Queensferry bridge hovering high above.  Even bundled in a heavy black jacket and watch cap, she would recognize his long limbs and the set of his shoulders anywhere.  She let out a long breath of relief.

She approached the bench cautiously, not certain if her presence would be welcome.  Instead of turning to greet her footsteps, Jamie addressed the bridge.

“Maggie passed t’day.  I called ‘cause I wanted ye tae know, but then I couldna find the words tae tell ye.”  Despite his refusal to look at her, his words were calm and without a hint of the bitterness she’d expected.

“Oh, Jamie.  I’m so terribly sorry.  I didn’t know her well, but she was a very special little girl who loved you dearly.”

He nodded in acknowledgement of her words, but didn’t reply.  She shifted uncomfortably from one foot to the other, suddenly aware that she was still wearing her pajamas, her hair doubtless a veritable cumulus of tangled curls.

“Is there anything I can do?” she asked.  “I still have some contacts at the hospital, I could...” she broke off, knowing it was ridiculous to offer professional assistance when she’d been the one to sever their relationship.

“Would ye, if it’s no’ too much tae ask, would ye mind jus’ sittin’ here with me fer a bit?”

He finally turned to look at her, and she could see the spider web of red veins that surrounded his irises, testimony to his heartbreak.  His mouth, usually such an accurate barometer of his mood, was strangely inert.  She nodded, unable to deny him such a simple request.

It was the time of night when the daytime symphony of the city broke into its component parts, every passing car, every lapping wave a single instrument singing its own plaintive song.  They sat in silence for long enough that she could feel the damp creeping up the legs of her pajamas.

“Maggie loved tae cross that bridge,” Jamie said at last.  “She’d lower her window, rain or shine, and stick her wee arm out, sayin’ it felt like she was flyin’.”

Claire smiled at the image, trying to picture the little girl with the giant imagination.

“What colour was her hair, Jamie?” she asked.  “Was it red, like yours?”

“Nah, dark, like Jenny’s and our Da.  But wi’ curls like mine and my Ma’s.  A little like yours, actually, Sassenach.  That is, before the chemo took it away.”

She grimaced, not knowing what topic to choose that wouldn’t lead Jamie on a path directly back to his grief.

“She fought sae hard,” he continued before she could attempt another distraction, “but the cancer wouldna let her win.”  Tears were rolling down his cheeks, glinting in the sodium light like stars, but he didn’t seem to notice or care.  “She was the best person I knew.  Sounds strange tae say of a wee lass, but she truly was.  An’ it made me a better person tae love her.  What the fuck am I gonna do now?”

Jamie was looking straight at her, as though he truly expected her to offer useful guidance.  All her training, her professional distance, fell away in the face of one broken man.  She swallowed, searching for words that weren’t a platitude.

“You’re going to go on living, because she can’t.  Because your happiness, when you are ready to feel it again, will be a gift to her memory.”

Jamie sniffed, then wiped his sleeve across his face.  He placed his hand on the bench between them.  Without allowing herself to think, Claire reached for it, finding his skin surprisingly warm.  There was an agonizing fermata, when all the instruments held their breath, and then he turned his palm upwards to meet her own.  Beneath the fog the river slipped by, blending endlessly into the sea.

"Look, Jamie, I know it’s not the right time, but I want to tell you that I’m sorry.  For the way I treated you, and ended things, and...”

“Nay, Sassenach, it’s me who should apologize.  I had no right tae throw my diagnosis at ye like some kinda weapon.  An’ when I think of how I heedlessly brought up yer becoming a mother.  I, of all people.  Weel, suffice it tae say I’ve spent many an hour regretin’ my words an’ actions.”

She squeezed his hand, wordlessly declaring them equal in remorse.

“How have ye been?” he inquired, peering at her as though trying to read her state of mind on the planes of her face.  She chuckled, looking away when the intensity of his gaze became too much.

“About the same, I suppose.  Better some days than others.  Geillis has started ordering my lunches for me, so I no longer have any excuse not to eat.”  Jamie nodded, seemingly pleased with this news.

“And you?  Are you still seeing Dr. Rafferty?  I... uhh, I know his office requested your file.”

In fact, Giles Rafferty had called her the week after her confrontation with Jamie, wondering why his new patient’s record of treatment contained no more than his biographical details and the time and date of each of his appointments.  She told him the same thing she’d told Geillis when she asked the same question in significantly cruder terms: that her weekly interactions with Jamie had never led to a professional diagnosis or a recommended course of treatment.

“Aye. He’s a good man, although tragically immune tae my charms.  Unlike some.”

“Don’t flatter yourself, Fraser,” she warned, although his rakish grin warmed her from the inside out.

“I’ll be darkening his doorway wi’ some frequency, after t’day,” he continued with a return to solemnity.

And yet you called me, Claire wanted to say, but didn’t.  When his beloved niece had slipped away, hers had been the number he had dialed, despite everything.  The very idea made her thoughts flit about like fireflies.

“I missed ye, Sassenach,” he confessed quietly after a time.

“I missed you too, Jamie.”

They sat together through the thin hours of the night, talking, sharing memories of Maggie, but mostly in silent companionship.  As dawn brightened the eastern sky, the fog began to lift, revealing an overcast sky.  The lights of the bridge blinked out, and the city’s music began anew.  Claire wished futilely that day would never break, knowing that it would bring them both the pain of two very different kinds of goodbye.

Her hand, when Jamie finally let it go, felt strange, as though it had been separated from its source.  She tucked it quickly into her pocket.

“I.. errr, I need tae be goin’,” Jamie said by way of apology.  “Ian and Jenn will be needin’ me.”

“Yes, of course.  I’ll just, um, call myself an Uber.”

They were both standing, neither seemingly knowing how to part.

Jamie opened his mouth, paused, shook his head in frustration, then looked away.  Her traitorous hand escaped her pocket and found its way to his chest.

“I’ll be thinking of you.  All of you.  If there’s anything, anything at all..”

“How long until your no’ my doctor anymore?  Ethically speakin’.”  He was looking at her in a way that made the fireflies whirlpool about.

“What?” she asked to buy herself some time to breath.

“Before I go an’ face everything that is wrong about t’day, I want tae ken, how long must I wait before I can kiss ye again wi’out riskin’ yer reputation?”

“There’s no written timetable,” she stalled.  “It’s a question of a doctor exerting undue influence or the exploitation of the patient’s trust, and there’s really...”

“Those rules are meant tae protect the patient, aye?  So I should be allowed tae waive them, no’?”

“Jamie...”

“Fine, let me rephrase my question.  Doctor Claire Beauchamp, when can I, James Fraser, ask ye tae look upon me as a potential suitor and no’ a former patient?  Six months?  A year?  Two years?”

“You really are the most infuriatingly stubborn man,” she huffed.

“Aye, I ken.  Sae, two years?  Do we have an agreement, Sassenach?”

“Fine, yes, two years, but Jamie, I don’t expect you to...”

A finger was placed across her lips, silencing her protests.

“Two years are naught if I can kiss ye again once they have passed.  Until then, Claire, please take care of yerself.”

She stood by the bench long after Jamie was gone, staring out across the river.  A flock of geese flew by in formation, broad wings nearly touching the surface of the water as it reflected the steel gray clouds above.  She thought of little Maggie, and her birdhouse surrounded by clouds.  A sob wrestled its way up her throat, surprising in its urgency.  And then, she allowed herself to cry.

#my writing #outlander