#i even typed out the questions by hand instead of copy pasting

[atydblack]

trouvaille

regulus black x slytherin!reader

masterlist

this is part one of an ongoing series! think there will be 3 parts in total <3 no cws as this is gonna be pure angst

Being James Potter's younger sister inquired a lot to live up to. James was the perfect Gryffindor student who succeeded in all his classes, exuded confidence with his every word, had soulmates for friends and an even better girlfriend.

You, however, were almost the opposite.

You were sorted into Slytherin in your first year and although they tried their best to hide it, you could see the disappointment in James and his friends eyes as you walked over to the Slytherin table. Your parents were still accepting but there was some clear favouritism in the family, no doubt. You did well in classes however didn't ever see yourself becoming a prefect like James or being top of any classes.

You sat in potions next to your best friend, Lara. Her straight blonde hair and bright blue eyes opposed my black curly hair and dark brown eyes. You had always been jealous of her, she was the type to catch everyone's eye when she walked into a room while you just trudged in behind her.

"Do you have idea what this question means?" Lara asks you, huffing slightly as she rested her chin in her hand.

"You really think I'd have the answer if you didn't?" You joked. You glanced up at Slughorn who had started dozing off behind his desk and you smirked. "Look."

Lara mirrored your smirk and you both dropped your quills on the desk to turn around and start talking with your friends instead.

"I'm bored out of my mind." Lara groaned to your other friend Freya sat behind you.

"Slughorn says if we don't get these all finished, he's gonna give us all detention until we get them done." Freya rolled her eyes, but you could clearly see that she'd almost finished.

"Have you got the number to 42?" You asked her with wide eyes, trying to sway her in to letting you copy her. "And 43, 44, 45... and the rest?"

"Merlin your voices are retched." A voice came from a couple desks to your right, none other than Enoch Wilkes. He was a tall boy with sleeked back greasy hair and a superiority complex due to his family heritage.

"What's your problem, Wilkes?" Lara shot at him.

"I'm trying to actually do my work but all I can hear is Potter's squeaky voice in my ear." Wilkes replied with a grunt.

"She's just as unbearable as Saint Potter except dumber." Icarus Nott joined in from next to him.

"What did you just say?" You spat, standing to your feet and making your way over to them with your wand gripped tightly in your palm, willing to do anything to stand up for your older brother. There was a third boy sat with them, Regulus Black.

Regulus had always been quiet, however he never failed to be part of the horrid Slytherins who gave your house a bad name and thought they were elite causing them to look down on everyone else. He had only made a few sly comments in past years, but everyone knew his thoughts on muggle blood.

You were also a pureblood, but would never allow yourself to feel any prejudice towards anyone else.

You couldn't deny that Regulus was attractive. He looked a lot like Sirius... however his facial features were softer. His dark black hair fell onto his forehead effortlessly and his green eyes complimented his pale skin.

"You heard me." Nott mocked you, not moving from his seat. You had gained a small audience as everyone's head turned towards you.

"What an embarrassment having a Gryffindor blood traitor for a brother." Wilkes joked, not backing down. "At least Black had the right idea and cut his off, what's stopping you from doing the same?"

"Y/N, sit down." Freya begged from across the classroom, not wanting to get either of you in trouble. "He's not worth it."

"You have no idea what you're talking about." You smirked, holding up your wand and pointing it right at him.

You were closest to Sirius out of all your brothers friends. He had moved in with your family two years ago after he left his family and you'd always been there for him, especially during everything that happened with his brother Regulus. Regulus was clearly a lost soul, strung along on the same ideologies as his parents however he would send letters to Sirius every once and a while but continued to act like he didn't exist at school.

"Leave it, Wilkes." Regulus muttered. Funny this is the first time he had ever attempted to stick up for you and it was only to save his own back.

"What's she talking about, Black?" Nott glanced at him, but Regulus' eyes were set on yours as you stared each other down. You knew you would never actually say anything to expose Regulus as doing so would only hurt Sirius too, but you could sense how scared he was that you'd open your mouth.

"She's a freak." Wilkes chuckled. "Just like her brother."

This sent you over the edge as everything turned red. You dropped your wand to the floor and quickly punched Wilkes square in the nose.

"Olive!" Lara shouted from across the classroom.

You felt a pair of strong arms pulling you back as you attempted to go in for another hit.

"What on earth is going on?!" Slughorn announced and you all froze. You turned around to see it was in fact Regulus' arms that were holding you back and a brush grew on your cheeks. "Black, Potter - sit down at once!"

You both complied, with a guilty expression you made your way back over to your desk and your friends gave you an apologetic look.

"I expect to see you both after class." Slughorn continued.

"But sir-!" Nott shouted, attempting to stick up for Regulus.

"I don't want to hear it." Slughorn quickly cut him off earning a scoff from the boy.

The lesson felt like it took hours to end but you felt slightly ill in your stomach when everyone else was packing up to leave but you and Regulus sat firmly in your seats.

"We'll be in the great hall; I'll save you a seat." Lara smiled at you before her and Freya took off out the classroom and to dinner.

"Both of you have detention with Filch every night after dinner starting tomorrow." Slughorn mumbled, uninterested. You scoffed as you were way too used to detention with Filch now.

When you were dismissed, you quickly stood to your feet and attempted to leave ahead off Regulus to avoid any awkwardness. You began walking down the corridor, ready to rant to James about what had occured.

"Potter!" Regulus called from behind you. You stopped in your tracks and turned on your feet with a confused expression on your face. He approached you slowly and timidly before speaking. "I-uh. I wanted to thank you for not saying anything about Sirius and I."

"I didn't do it for you. I did it for Sirius." You mutter before turning back around and leaving him there dumbfounded.

You reach the great hall and make a B line for your brother and his friends. James smirked at you as you approach him with a sour expression on your face before sitting in between him and Sirius, your green robes standing out in the sea of red.

"What's up with you, Y/N?" Sirius smirked before patting me on the top of your head.

"I've got detention again this week." You huff, crossing your arms and leaning them on the table.

"How do you manage to get yourself into so much trouble?" Lily quizzed you, a humorous look on her face that mirrored the rest of the group.

"She takes after me, that's why." James joked but you only rolled your eyes in response.

"Yeah, apart from the brains." You sigh, leaning your head on Sirius' shoulder. You glanced over at the Slytherin table and quickly caught eyes with Regulus, who must have been staring at you. You kept eye contact for a short moment before he turned his head and acted like it never happened. You furrow your eyebrows and listed your head once again. "At least I'm the better-looking sibling." You continue, causing everyone to laugh.

"Keep dreaming, kiddo." James rolled his eyes.

"Go on then, what did you do this time?" Remus questions you.

"I punched Enoch Wilkes in the nose during potions." You say smugly causing everyone to laugh once again.

"I would advise you that violence isn't the answer, however we can make some exceptions for people like that." Remus smirked.

"Tell me about it, they're horrid." You scoff before stealing some food from James plate. "No offence obviously, Sirius."

"Go ahead," Sirius chuckled. "I had to endure it for most of my life."

#regulus black angst #regulus black fanfiction #regulus black x reader #regulus black #regulus x reader #regulus black fluff #regulus angst #sirius black x reader #marauders x reader

[darcydoesfuckall]

Why you should write that AO3 comment:

Hello! I am an AO3 author and professional fandom dipshit. This is an "essay" on why you should leave that comment on the fanfic you just read.

Table of Contents:

"Commenting is too much effort!"

"I don't know what to write!"

Do you want more fanfic?

Fan creators are human beings, not AI content generators.

You can count it as charity work on your metaphysical taxes.

"Commenting is too much effort!"

Yes, writing a comment takes energy. I'm an introvert, I get that. I have two counter arguments to this point.

AO3 comments are not the SAT:

This is a comment from my latest fic, Quantum Entangled.

Three words and a heart. It requires zero consideration, it isn't specific to the fic, it's something you could copy-paste, even. A comment like this is better than nothing. I'll let my reply from AO3 explain why:

"You know what, I appreciate this way more than you'd probably expect. The temptation to lurk is a strong one, both for social anxiety reasons and internet content-consumption culture reasons. But when people lurk, I can't tell that they've enjoyed the story. The more people that lurk instead of interacting, the more I assume that my work wasn't good enough, irrespective of the reader's actual feelings. So this was a very welcome comment to read. Thank you for indicating your enjoyment. I will endeavour to write more stuff for you to lurk on in the future. :)"

A comment like this, one that is as thoughtless and low effort as possible, is still a comment. Something that denotes a reader's interest. Because, and I can't be clear enough about this, I HAVE NO OTHER WAY OF KNOWING THAT YOU LIKED IT. Kudos and comments are my only window into the reader's experience.

Sure, I'd love more detailed and thorough comments on my work, but, if that expectation is the thing that's going to stop you from commenting at all, I'd prefer the bland copy-paste appreciation.

Onto my second argument.

Do you know what also takes effort? WRITING THE DAMN FIC:

You do not get to complain about being forced to type a congratulatory handful of words after reading that 200k slow-burn fantasy au. Do you know how many hours went into that thing? Do you? Because I can guarantee that it was A LOT. All that writers are asking for is a single emoji. A kudos, at the very least. Consider the effort that went into the creation that you've just experienced and give just a thimble full of it back.

Authors lay out a feast for you to devour. They're only requesting a "thank you".

"I don't know what to write!"

Like in the previous example, an AO3 comment can be as simple as three words saying that you appreciated it. Just an acknowledgement that you were there. It doesn't have to be fancy.

But if you want fancy...?

Here's one of my comments, from Tishae's Better Together.

Let me break it down for you.

"Stunning. This au is so well developed. I love how you managed to maintain tension after the point that they discover that their feelings are requited. This was brilliantly paced, and the action (esp the ending) was so engaging."

The comment opens with appreciation. (Think of it as a sandwich with love as the bread. It starts and ends with my enjoyment.)

There are specific details about what I liked.

"If I may ask, what was the crime that the Metatron committed? Maybe I'm bad at reading between the lines or maybe I missed something, but I'm really curious as to what dirt they have on him. Victimless? Bad enough for imprisonment, but not so morally reprehensible as to make Anathema reveal it? Did he embezzle? That's all I can really think of."

Continues with a specific question about the story and plot.

Shows that I was critically engaged and actively considering the story.

You don't have to have questions about every fic that you read, but don't be afraid to ask them if you do. I love it when people ask me about my work.

"Thank you for the delicious food. I honestly thought that you were going to have Crowley's final look be something in grey (black and white being the theme of the show, metaphorically representing separation/binary, so Aziraphale was uncomfortable with it due to the implications. Grey, symbolising unity/shades of grey as an idiom, would then be the biggest middle finger to the Metatron) but I do really like what you came up with."

Gratitude.

Thoughts about how I read the plot. (This is something I particularly love to read as an author. Please tell me what's going on in that funky lil' brain of yours!!)

"I'm hoping this comment provides plenty of dopamine. If the task activation and instant gratification parts of your brain light up, you might be more likely to write GO content again. Love your work, thanks for sharing it. I hope you gain 3 inches of metaphorical dick length. Please keep writing."

Encouragement to keep writing. (This is the best way to ensure that creators remain in the fandom)

A funny comment to sign off.

Now that you know what to comment, let's start on the real reasons why you should.

Do you want more fanfic?

Fun fact! Fanfictious Authoria are a species that sustain themselves entirely on a diet of brain worms, unfinished WIPs, and kudos. As one of the three fundamental food groups, removing kudos from the fandom ecosystem causes a complete collapse of the natural order. In times of unprecedented scarcity, entire populations of Fanfictious Authoria can die out completely. This means that the production of fanfiction, in that particular region of fandom, stops entirely, often causing major ecological damage, and the subsequent deaths of fan species in the same genus. (Like the Fanfictious Artia, or the Fanfictious Editour, both of which subsist on fanfiction based diets to survive.)

In conservation efforts, experts are imploring readers to donate kudos and comments toward any fandom region that they want to stay alive.

But I digress.

When I want more content, I tell the author. Ask and you shall receive; it's the best way to convince an author/artist to make more.

My comment on @mrghostrat's And They Were Streamers

You liked it? Then COMMENT! Not for the author's sake, but for your own. You want to see the ending of a WIP? Well, it'd be a terrible shame if the author gave up on it because they thought no one was reading... They don't know that you enjoy their work until you TELL THEM. They're not psychic, you have to help them hear you. Commenting on the things you like influences the creators of said things to attribute the act of making content (and, notably, making the type of content that specifically appeals to you) with the dopamine hit of reading your reaction. Treat them like Pavlov's dogs. Ring the kudos-bell.

Fan creators are human beings, not AI content generators.

They have real human feelings and real human egos. The contemporary attitude towards media engagement is skewed towards algorithmic, instant, and uncritical consumption. This is pumping straight gasoline into the beautiful lakes of our fandom ecosystem. Fandom cannot afford to treat its creators like mechanical text generators. We are not an unfeeling assembly line, only there to produce content. We are enthusiasts, engaging in our hobby. No fan creator has to show you anything. They are fully within their rights to keep their works hidden in their computer files, never to see the light of day. Every fanfic on AO3 is only there because someone had the grace to share it with you. You are not entitled to an author's work, just as they are not entitled to your kudos. We have a mutually beneficial arrangement. Do not forget your part in this symbiosis.

It's a problem that extends beyond AO3. Tumblr is a less enthusiastic place than it used to be. Fandom as a whole is drifting towards a consumption mindset. I, for one, am sick of it. Reblog things, like them, share them. Make fanart of fanart. Who gives a shit? Do the cringy thing. You don't have to cultivate your blog aesthetic. Be who you are, like what you like, and have enthusiasm about all of it. Fandom should be an expression of radical self acceptance. Embrace it. Leave essays about fics that you liked. Reblog the essays of other's when you see them. Exist in the mutual joy of seeing and being seen. You are not just an external observer, absorbing content from a distance. You are here too. Wave back at us. Say 'hi.'

You can count it as charity work on your metaphysical taxes.

My final appeal is a moral one.

Commenting on AO3 is just a kind thing to do.

You are your actions. Are you the kind of person who does the kind thing when no one is watching? When no one will care?

Fanfiction is a hobby, and I'm not here to guilt you about how you spend your leisure time. I'm only here to say that there is a kindness you could be giving the world.

If you are one of the people that performs this kindness, I thank you.

#ao3 #fanfiction #fanfic #GO fandom I'm looking at you #good omens #ineffable husbands #crowley #aziraphale #ineffable wives #ineffable husbands fic rec #ineffable idiots #ineffable partners #ineffable spouses

[altairs-little-world]

Hello! I'd like to request Natsume, Hiiro, and Mika (separate) finding out that their s/o has a keychain of them, thank you and have a nice day!

Natsume, Hiiro, Mika - Finding out their s/o has a keychain of them 

Characters: Natsume Sakasaki, Hiiro Amagi, Mika Kagehira

Genres: Fluff, fluff, and fluff!

Smaller “tags”: Keychains, Jealousy, Kisses, Video calls, Dates, Canon Universe

TW: None!

A/N: The requests are coming in~! Those that submitted requests so far, thank you for following the guidelines! All of you have really interesting prompts and ideas, it’s fun to write them! 

I’m not too familiar with Mika in general- Sorry if any of them are OOC! Also Gr*mmarly stop picking on Natsume and Mika’s speech you bully. 

I hope this was what you were looking for, anon!

NATSUME SAKASAKI ｡･:*:･ﾟ★,｡･:*:･ﾟ☆

— You'd recently bought a small Nendoroid keychain, an inanimate replica of your lovely, redheaded boyfriend who was now scrutinising it with a sullen expression, similar to a pout. 

— How did you end up here, in his secret room, with a displeased Natsume in front of you? 

— Simple, though not really - you had been proudly displaying the redhead’s keychain everywhere, talking about it whenever you could. It was no surprise that even such an insignificant piece of news had reached the ears of your boyfriend. 

“Hey, don’t break that, okay? It was hard to find,” Your words finally pull his eyes away from the dangling keychain in his fingers, with that frown still on his face. 

“When did you get thIS?” 

“A day or two ago, at-” 

“So hE’s your new lovER?” 

His question catches you off-guard, a confused expression creasing your face. 

“What? No, it’s just a keepsake.” 

“I don’t think sO. People say you have been calling it your darLING.”

Ah. Now that you remembered. But you weren’t referring to the keychain, you were talking about him! 

Then again, you did indeed gush over how tiny and cute the Nendoroid was, and you did call it “darling”, as Natsume had pointed out in a huff. 

“I mean, yes, but it’s just a toy…” 

The male didn’t seem to accept the excuse, turning the figure in his hands and looking down at it with disdain. 

“FinE. If you want to kEEP it with you all the tIME, might as well make it useFUL.” The redhead nonchalantly says, turning to his little workspace, the keychain still in his hand. 

You watched his back as he tinkered with it, muttering under his breath. There was this odd atmosphere in the air, giving you the sense that Natsume had just run from an awkward conversation between the both of you. You would've laughed at this moment if you weren't so nervous from his small outburst just now that suddenly turned into silence as he focuses on his work. It was as if you could never figure out what this wizard was up to.

He returns after a short moment, grasping the Nendoroid in his hand so you could barely see the head of red poking out, the silver chain hanging out.

“Hold your hands oUT,” Your lover orders, and you comply, arms outstretched and palms facing up. 

He takes your hands in his with surprising gentleness - wasn’t he irritated earlier? - and wraps your hands around the keychain, placing his hands around yours. 

Just as you were about to ask what he was doing, Natsume bends down and brings your hands to his lips, planting a tender kiss on your fingers as his golden gaze never left yours. 

“I magickED it, so now, it’s a lucky charm for you, my kitTEN~” The self-proclaimed magician says in a sing-song voice, pushing your hands down and moving past them to claim that smile of yours.

Eccentric, that’s what he was, and you loved him for it.

“When I’m not around, you can let this protect yOU. When I’m around, I want thAT out of sight and your eyes on mE.”

HIIRO AMAGI ｡･:*:･ﾟ★,｡･:*:･ﾟ☆

— The moment the latest ALKALOID merch was released, you snagged multiple copies of each type of your lover's merchandise!

— Sadly, his keychains sold out fairly quickly - you could only get one instead of twenty as you were planning to buy, how terrible!

— Needless to say, this little limited edition keychain of your beloved redhead was your most prized possession. 

— You carry it around everywhere, hooking it to your bag or clothes and showing it off proudly!

— Which is why Hiiro notices it the moment he meets up with you again, on a date. 

— He doesn’t recognize it at first - the man’s too distracted by the sight of your smile, the way your eyes light up when he meets your gaze. 

— Until you proudly show off the keychain, angling one side of your hip towards Hiiro to show him the mini him dangling off your pants, hooked on your pocket. 

“Aha! That’s the keychain that got sold out in a few minutes! Why do you have it?”

... Honestly, you wanted to smack him for being so oblivious to the obvious sometimes. 

You huffed and pointedly explained how you had “risked life and limb” to get this limited edition merchandise, toying with the keychain as you did so. Hiiro would probably take your words literally again - but it was cute, so you exaggerate as much as possible, expecting his questioning look and small frown of confusion.

What you didn’t expect was for him to suddenly grab the hand you were fiddling the toy with, slipping his fingers between yours and locking your hand in his grip. The frown on his face was there, but not due to your bombastic words this time. Instead, Hiiro was staring at your hands, casting a resentful look at… The keychain?

“Hiiro?” This time, you were the one who was confused. (Oh, how the turns have tabled-)

“Hmm?” He perks up at your voice, piercing blue looking into your questioning eyes. “Ah, it’s nothing.” A smile returns to his face, his thumb stroking your hand reassuringly. Hiiro pulls you along as he begins walking, never letting go of your hand. 

“The keychain… Keep it at home, okay? You might lose it outside, and that would be a shame!” He hums, turning his head to address you directly.

“But it’s meant to be carried around-” 

He immediately silences your argument when you had barely started, pressing his lips against you in a shallow, yet fierce kiss. Thank goodness it was dark out, and there weren’t many around to witness this display of affection. In the middle of the street, no less.

You recognized this - he was annoyed at something involving you. The keychain tapped against your hand, like a reminder, and you figured out what was on his mind, closing your eyes and accepting his show of dominance. 

Just how ridiculous and endearing could this man get? You didn’t have an answer, for now, kissing him back with a grin. Either way, you loved him, as he loved you. 

“That’s just a toy - it can’t love you like I can and do!”

MIKA KAGEHIRA ｡･:*:･ﾟ★,｡･:*:･ﾟ☆

— Like your heterochromia boyfriend, you had quite the aptitude when it came to art! 

— As an idol and student at Yumenosaki, Mika didn’t have much time to see you - completely understandable! But you still desperately missed the boy who had such a hold on your heart.

— Perhaps something that looked just like him would alleviate your longing! Yes, a plush just like the many soft toys he had, but smaller so you could always keep him by your side!

— There wasn’t any fan merchandise or official merchandise of him as a plushie yet, so you decided to take matters into your own hands.

— A tiny plush of your precious Mika, all for yourself! 

— It wasn’t too convenient to carry the plush everywhere as you wanted, despite its size  - aha, why not make it into a keychain, then? 

— And so the first Mika plushie keychain was born. By your own hands, no less! 

When you were satisfied with the product, you immediately texted him to see if he was free for a video call right now - you couldn’t wait to show your artsy boyfriend the results! 

Your excited smile only grew wider when you saw his beautiful pair of gold and cyan eyes, partially hidden by his cheekbones from the soft smile that dominated his face at the moment of seeing you. 

“What up? Ya’ wanted me to see somethin’?” 

Nodding, you dangled the keychain in front of the camera. “Look, a mini you!” 

“A min’ me!” He repeats. You love the way his cat-like eyes widen in awe, mouth forming an ‘o’ as he watches you turn it in your hands. “Why makin’ a min’ me all of a sudden?” 

“Ah, um…” 

His big grin tones down to a small embarrassed smile, with matching cheeks of pink when you explain. 

“Awhh, you bein’ so sweet… I done miss you too!” Mika nuzzles his cheek up to the camera, making you laugh at how cute he was. Maybe a keychain wouldn’t be enough to keep you company - you wanted to have the love of your life in your arms even more, now. 

“Ah, also…” You tilt your head at his voice, soft and breathy from your phone, waiting for him to speak again in that beautiful voice of his.

Instead, Mika presses a kiss to his camera, directed at you. It was the closest you two could get to an actual kiss right now, but it satisfied him, for now.

It's your turn to blush, hiding your face behind your arm at his action. God, how was he so adorable and loving? You could only thank fate for delivering him into your open arms. 

“I’m happy ya’ wanna keep me close to ya’ with that min' me... But I wanna be tha favourite, please?”

#enstars x reader #ensemble stars x reader #natsume sakasaki x reader #hiiro amagi x reader #mika kagehira x reader #natsume sakasaki #hiiro amagi #mika kagehira #ensemble stars

[olderthannetfic]

How I would do 2023 ship stats

You know, normally, I don't bother to do much with top AO3 ships stats. That's partly because someone already does it and partly because I think they're stupid stats that just lead to people gloating about their blorbos "winning". But I do routinely have a look at what's new and popular when I'm doing things like making a dance party playlist for Escapade Con, just so I know what fans might be getting into lately. I have to say, collecting these is not hard. It's not even particularly time consuming.

Doing it super efficiently would be easier with a script, yes, but most fandom stats aren't actually collected with scripts, and if you're only looking for the top 100 ships, you can more or less do that by hand. How I would set about it for you, the random fan who's curious but not curious enough to learn to code, would be to log into AO3 and then find tags where you can see the sidebar. They should be tags that encompass the whole archive and that are mandatory and unique… in other words, ratings.

Since every AO3 work must have one and only one rating, you can just check these five and get a good sense of what's on there. There are some minor wrinkles to iron out, but it's a good preliminary research step.

The way you want to do it is to start with a spreadsheet. Open up your ratings URLs (and also paste them in the spreadsheet for convenience—google sheets will make clickable links). Copy all the sidebar top ships into a list. Filter out all of these ships. Copy the next set, etc. After a while, you'll have a good list that's longer than 100 ships but that most likely contains everything really popular. (Filter for things posted/updated/whatever in the past year if that's the data you're after. Filter for f/f or whatever topic you're interested in if that's the question you're asking instead.)

Use your spreadsheet to generate the actual links for each of these ships. AO3 URLs are predictable: you can generate them from knowing the exact spelling of the tag and the normal format of this type of URL. (There are a bunch of standard spreadsheet functions that can be used to get rid of the work count numbers you've copied from AO3 to get just the pure ship tags. I'd use things like =right() and =left().)

Open the links. Copy the work totals back to your spreadsheet. Voilà!

One drawback of this method is, obviously, that it's boring and tedious, but if you didn't like boring and tedious, why were you collecting fandom stats anyway?

A more important drawback is that in using exclude filters, it's possible you could miss a ship. If the posting patterns are just right, there might be something that has its numbers reduced by excluding other ships that should be on your list. You could have a similar issue if the ships on your list are mostly one rating (so higher in those searches) and some other slightly larger overall ship is spread more evenly. I would try to ameliorate this problem by looking at the sizes of the smallest ships you're covering. They will likely be bigger than the entire fandom section for most fandoms. Taking another look at the bigger fandoms that could be hiding a small-end-of-big ship can help double-check that you haven't missed anything. Grabbing the top 130 or 150 ships in some search while only looking for the top 100 will likely find most of the edge stuff too.

Add any ships that look like they should be double checked to your spreadsheet. Add their work totals. Re-sort your list.

Another thing to consider is that AO3 keeps track of the most recent update date on fics. That's what's easy to search by. If you're only interested in when a work was first posted, easy manual filtering isn't the way to go… However, if the objective is to see which ship tags were active in a given year, most recent update date is the relevant piece of data anyway.

You're not going to recreate centreoftheselights' exact analysis unless you collect data year to year, but you can come up with something pretty similar that answers a similar question, and you don't need to be a programmer to do it.

In the end, accept that some data require hard collection methods that a site doesn't easily offer you and you might have to scrape multiple times a year with a script if you want to know that particular thing… or you might have to randomly sample and hand-count as with FFN shipping stats. (Yes, I've done it. It can be done. It's just annoying.)

So when you're setting out to look at some stats question, the big first step is to decide what you're even asking and why and whether you're just wimping out and going with what's easy to collect instead of what you actually want to know.

...now I'm kind of curious. Maybe I'll go pull some 2023 numbers.

[corey-beepington]

Hello! After re-watching your Deltarune short film, Eviction Day, I can confidently say that I:

Am SO happy to find that you have a tumblr blog! :D

Absolutely LOVE that film, despite not being in the Deltarune fandom but still intrigued by the concept/story of Spamton and the Addisons - I genuinely think this is perhaps the BEST interpretation of Spamton's story (and possibly the best Deltarune fan project) I've ever seen!

I'd like to ask a couple of questions regarding the short film if that's okay with you:

What parts of the Addisons' personality did you want to show through your designs (the way they wear their jackets, their eye colour, body type, hairstyle, etc.) and why?

What inspired you to focus on Blue Addison's perspective for the film?

While I understand the references to Spamton Neo with the 'twisted angel' imagery, am I correct in theorising that 'Big Shot' equated to the whole angel thing Spamton became obsessed with (please correct me if this is not the case)?

(Btw I absolutely adore your design of Blue Addison - he's adorable and looks like he'd give the best hugs! And I think he definitely needs a hug after what he witnessed in the short film.)

Thanks for enjoying my silly short film...first time ive ever gotten a big ol string of questions about it sooooo -puts on my reading glasses screen or whatever would be the equivalent for a silly little television-

There we go, i do love talking alot about what goes into a cartoon sooooo

here goes the Ramble

I love the addisons, and I LOVE when people give them individual body types instead of copy/pasting the same skinny twink..I think it adds alot more personality to them..especially since their entire personality is...I guess having no personality. I like to think they have an "advertising" personality which is copy/paste but once theyre off duty, they're themselves. I wanted to show this with one scene in Eviction Day where Blue Advertises when trying to rehearse what to say.

As for each Addison's design itself...Well..I knew the full group of addisons would have very very little screentime, yet I wanted the audience to FEEL for them ya know?

Actually, in the first first first draft of Eviction Day, the diner scene was MUCH longer...but it made Pink WAAAAAY too unlikeable...and I didn't wanna animate all of it.

So I had to make the designs count

In general, I love them with blacked out eyes, it makes them feel more...robotic...even a tad bit frightening...also a fan of their eye's being glowy and think a black scalera would amplify it. I remember seeing blacked out eyes for addisons one day when scrolling instagram..I don't remember the artist sadly, but I latched onto that hc almost instantly.

Their suits are pretty copy-paste with the exception of Pink who doesnt wear an undershirt and lets his fluff sort of hang out...it feels very Pink to me...speaking

Anyway, each design individually

Pink

Pink is..well Pink, very sharp, probably the one who gets the most sales and thus designed to be the most "conventionally attractive" out of the bunch. As mentioned above, I wanted to show how proud he is by him being the only addison who doesn't wear an undershirt and preferring to let his fluff hang out.

He's only in a few shots..but he exists to well...foreshadow...I mentioned in another ask, I don't see Pink as a jerk, more as a guy overcompensating on his hate towards Spamton to cover up deep down missing him and being worried. He worried once Blue shows signs of distress.

Very superficial.

Yellow

My yellow, unlike popular hc, is far more chill, a gentle giant if you would...like he's a guy you can depend on, but very shy despite his looks. He never appears until the end at the Trash Zone so this gives me the "he's shy" hc...or he's also not much a seller. I see Yellow as a guy who sets up his group's store front...and probably beats up viruses with his bare hands, you know the behind the scenes backstage guy.

He's dependable and friendly, and that's why he is how he is.

Orange

He exists.

Like...I'm not super attached to Orange...So he's just...Orange...generic...I see him more as holding a managerial position over the group over selling (he does try to scam you)..but he was never doing anything major in the short so he just...Exists I guess.

BLUE

BOY BABY BOY. HE IS MY FAVORITE.

Blue strikes me as the friendliest and most huggable of the group, in game he doesn't scam you....or even try to...he just gives you free samples...and you can take as many as you want!

I wanna think he's not a great salesmen, but he's built at "marketable plushie" size so he can at very least draw people in...considering your intent to hug him, I think it's working.

For some weird reason, a handful of people have asked in a "is this a fetish" way or even been upset at me for making blue plus sized and to that I say

go outside.

You'll find that people of all shapes exist in the real world <3

Just for you anon, here's some old concept art. I wanna give a big big thanks to my friend SPAMiGO who helped me tie down their designs. I'm not the best character designer, so he was a huge help in making these designs nice!

2. Why Blue?

Awhile ago, I made an animation called "Spamton's Biggest Deal"

Alot of people liked it for some reason.

I wanted to do something like that again...I honestly didn't quite like this cartoon, it was rushed and ew old spamton art...

I didn't want it being my only contribution to the Deltarune fandom...I was feeling...quite ambitious....

So it crawled so Eviction Day could run.

I'm a horror artist by nature, I LOVE horror and I wanted to MAKE another horror deltarune cartoon because it was VERY heavily requested...but i didn't know what

Over the summer in 2022, I ended up cosplaying the Blue Addison..in my research...I found the line about garbage noise...

I think every scary thing that could be done with spamton has been done.

But this

This detail was so overlooked.

There was SO MUCH horror to be had in this scene that I just HAD to do something with it.

And so I wrote the first script in august...I really fell in love with the blue addison around this time and wanted to share my love of this overlooked character with other people.

Also I ship blue addison and spamton really hard and struggled to find Content

(disclaimer because someone will ask: I do not headcanon the addisons as brothers)

So this was another way to spread my gospel...albeit subtly....

Ships do things to a person.

When Undertale's anniverssary came around, I re-posted it to twitter and asked

"why the hell did you guys like this"

I got alot of good answers, i asked what was good, what was bad, what you'd like to see

And then weaved it all together.

I officially began on the short in september of 2022.

but tldr: i liked the character, i liked the horror, 123 addisons making out cyber cafe.

3.

Ah...the mural....

Ok I'll spill the beans, the mural was the very first shot that beamed itself into my head when Eviction Day was barely a thought...just the image of Blue Addison staring at something...horrible...

It was the sole reason I made the film

I plan on doing a more elaborate post on my patreon in the future about it because there was SO MUCH thought that went into this one 5 second shot.

as for your question specifically

There's many ways to interperet the mural tbh...I wanna think Spamton saw himself as a savior...an angel...one who would bring the light and become big..bigger than anything

A God.

or something like that.

That's all the time for now anon. I hope this answered your questions....as I said I will ramble on and on about pre-production stuff, sometimes ill throw stuff up on the patreon as well (the animatic is there now actually) if you wanna support more stuff like it too!

Now go take a rest...your eyes must be so sleepy reading all this

#corey speaks

[knockyasocksoff2022]

IDEALS [kunikidazai]

Ideal No. 6

(738 words)

Getting to the office early isn’t a problem because of my insomnia. It’s so simple, instead of lying in bed for hours I slip on my clothes and walk to the office.

Kunikida will be so surprised when he sees me before him that he’ll just have to say something.

I’m so childishly giddy at the thought that I can hardly concentrate but I make myself. I take my paperwork off Kunikida’s desk and start filling each form out and typing up the digital copies one by one. I’ve done 10 paper and digital copies now and I put down my pen at the sound of footsteps.

Kunikida walks right past me like he doesn’t notice me at all. He sits down at his desk, but his hand hesitates over his laptop. I force myself to resume my work, as if this is nothing out of the ordinary. He hasn’t looked at me or addressed me yet so I keep my eyes on the paper.

I look up once as I hear his chair slide back. He stares at me for a second, his grey eyes filled with surprise, then suspicion and then exhaustion. His lips form a thin line, no words leave his lips. Not even a thank you.

Well that backfired! But he’ll slip up eventually, I just have to keep this up and he’ll surely confront me.

-

The president gets here and greets us both. I find great relief in hearing Kunikida’s voice even if the words aren’t for me. 

One by one my colleagues arrive, Kyouka, Kenji, Atsushi, Ranpo and then Yosano,

They all react with surprise in there different ways:

Kenji happily greeted me, saying he’s glad to see me on this fine morning.

Kyouka gives me a side-eye but asks no questions.

Atsushi asks me if I’m alright, afraid that something dreadful has happened.

Ranpo’s gaze flickers from me to Kunikida, raising an eyebrow. I give him the smallest of nods. He bursts out laughing. 

Yosano offers to heal me if I’ve suddenly developed a brain tumour that’s affecting my behaviour.

Kunikida remains silent, not looking up from his laptop. I won’t look at Kunikida either, give him a taste of his own medicine.

- 

With my fast typing speed I finish my most recent paperwork, the ones pertaining to our case with the local police, before lunch time. It crosses my mind that it isn’t that bad but then I remember the months backlog I have. I don’t groan or make a scene, I give no indication of my emotions.

I start the large pile and get halfway through before I notice the office is oddly silent. I look up and see everyone besides Ranpo standings round Yosano’s desk whispering. They’re looking right at me and when they see me looking they all stop.

I go back to my work, ignoring them like Kunikida has been ignoring me.

I hear Atsushi ask, “Did Kunikida-san do something to him?” and Yosano replied, “Don’t worry, Atsushi, he’ll be back to normal by tomorrow.”

-

The day passes quickly, differently from usual where everything is a blur. I know exactly what happened but I still have trouble remembering everything because it feels like I sat at my desk and stared at my laptop all day doing one thing, write, type, file, repeat (I did.)

I still have some forms to fill out but if I work at the same rate I’ll get them done by the end of the day tomorrow. But I can hardly think of tomorrow when today’s been a complete flop. Kunikida didn’t react at all.

But he gave me that look, the suspicion. Like the only reason I’d ever do my work was if I had ulterior motives, the fact that it’s true cuts me inside. And then that pure weariness.

It’s clear to me now that Kunikida isn’t mad at me, he's just lost patience and run out of willpower to deal with me. And he shouldn’t have to deal with me, I’m a full grown adult I can be normal. I’m sure I can. 

When you think about it Kunikida’s ideals are only asking for a regular polite pretty woman who isn’t a crazy motherfucking bitch (like me). I will remake myself to fit his ideals and become a better person in the process. It may not work but it’s my only and last chance for him to want me.

#bungou stray dogs #bungo stray dogs #bsd #kunikidazai fanfiction #kunikidazai fanfic #kunikidazai fic #kunikidazai angst #kunikidazai #kunidazai fanfiction #kunidazai fanfic #kunidazai fic #kunidazai angst #kunidazai #IDEALS [kunikidazai]

[idabbleincrazy]

Since I finally worked thru the block I was having on Ageless:

The elder Kent sighed a heavy breath and wiped his mouth with a cloth napkin before turning in his seat to face Lex more fully. A glimmer of what Lex could only read as shame rippled over Jonathan's sun-weathered features, and Lex felt confusion and a hint of worry tremble through from Clark.

"Look, Lu-Lex. It may have dawned on me that I've been neglecting to keep my end of an agreement." Lex set his fork down to give Jonathan his full attention, an eyebrow quirking in bemusement. "It may have only been a verbal request, but we shook on it nonetheless, and that's as good as any contract typed up on paper out here. When you came back from that disaster of a honeymoon, you had barely even recovered from the whole ordeal, and yet, one of the first things you did was gift us back our land. I know I agreed with only a minor hesitation when you claimed all you wanted in return was for us to treat you like family; I just, well, I just kept waiting for the other shoe to drop.

You may have done some questionable stunts over the past two years, but even with this debt between us, you never once tried to wheedle us into anything. I was wrong, Lex, to keep thinking you were just a carbon copy of Lionel. This dinner is long overdue, and I can't help but think that if I'd kept my end of the bargain, maybe some of the recent troubles between you and Clark, some of the less-than-ideal choices you made, could've been avoided. I may be set in my ways in a lot of things, but I know when to admit to my mistakes, and…I'm sorry, son, for holding the Luthor name against you before even giving you the chance to show us who you are. I'd forgotten how very young twenty-one truly is, and immediately treated you only as the full-grown adult you tried to show to the world. And, in the spirit of making amends and keeping the promise I made when I shook your hand, there's a standing invitation for you to join us for dinner whenever you'd like."

"And, consider yourself unavailable for any non-LuthorCorp related holiday parties your father may ask you to attend in his stead", Martha tacked on as Lex absorbed Jonathan's speech. She flashed him a pointed look when he turned her way. "Welcome to the family, Lex."

Lex sat there, stunned, as he let the wave of emotions sweep through him, fighting back the slight sting of unexpected tears pricking at the corners of his eyes. Son. Jonathan had called him son. All the moments of familial love he'd witnessed between these three and felt a pang of envy and longing. All the time he'd spent wondering how much more enjoyable his life would be if he'd had a family like the Kents instead of Lionel's twisted ideas of love and care. He felt a rush of happiness and warmth flow through him as Clark's face broke into a beaming smile, the teenager's feelings so powerful they bolstered his own. He'd spent four years striving and longing for acceptance and approval from the family circled around him, and now, he apparently had it. He couldn not let this fall apart.

@leatafandom

#wip wednesday #clex

[pistolenprinz]

RDR2 CHARACTERS AS THE MAJOR ARCANA (PT. 4 OF MANY)

I’ve been really digging tarot lately, and finding a lot of comfort/joy indulging in the universe’s energies, so I figured I would try my hand at assigning each of the main gang (with some exceptions) to one of the major arcana, as well as giving my personal interpretations of how it fits. Note: For this post, I’ve dipped into my own deck (Raven Rogue’s Tarotorial), and will be pulling the imagery-specific elements from them. I will cite things as such “Insert text here [Source Name].” Regardless, the actual applications to the plotlines and characters is my own and is my opinion. To cut down on the length of these posts, I’ve privately paired up gang members that I either think provide a good foil for one another, or those that I just think pair well in terms of discussion. This section will be copy-pasted across all the posts in this series for sake of clarity.

BILL WILLIAMSON - JUDGMENT

Judgment presents as adults and children rising from their graves to respond to an angel's trumpet call as they're ready to be judged by the universe. This card deals out absolutes. [Tarotorial; Card Imagery].

Stating the obvious first, Bill is a man who deals in absolute. There is, or there isn't. This is not an inherently bad thing, particularly in the type of environment he finds himself in among the Van der Linde gang; the preservation of the group comes first and foremost…. usually. That said, the question of good or not comes from Bill's inner motives. We see this in RDR2, we see this more in RDR. Bill's motives are, arguably, driven by a simple lack of self-awareness. A 'rules for thee and not for me' mentality, that ultimately leads to him being unable to learn his lessons, and going on to become even more of a brutal terror on his own than he was within the Van der Linde gang (where he, usually, had others to ground him and refocus his purpose). This card's imagery echoes those of Death, reminding the interpreter and viewer that everything comes to an end, damned be the consequences.

MICAH BELL - THE DEVIL

The Devil typically depicts a saytr, known as Baphomet, atop a pedestal behind the chained male and female figures to show that they're under control. The man and woman are ashamed, and becoming less human the longer they're under the Devil's control [Tarotorial; Card Imagery].

Ignoring the explicit evil imagery, the label of "evil" as a whole, and Micah's status as an antagonist within the gang, I want to instead focus on the core of his character. Of the deep-rooted greed that pushes him to become such a powerful force among the members, effectively overturning the dynamic and tipping the scales in his balance. If we look further, into the time before his gang, we see that it's a constant. All he has known is greed and violence, through his father's own outlaw nature. We can look at how vicious the falling out between himself and his brother, Amos, was, with the latter threatening to kill if he'd even considered contact with his family. The Devil itself is less about evil itself, but the intricate acts that may lead to someone being considered evil: Greed, materialism, excess, temptation. All things that Micah exhibits throughout his story, all the way from attempting to "take" Sadie for himself, to confronting Arthur at the end of it all and ensuring that he would not leave freely (with or without the money, as that choice is player determinant). On the other hand, and through the lens of characters such as Bill and Dutch, Micah is a symbol of true freedom. Of releasing one's inner desires and being prideful with them. These tenants are core to the "outlaw" life, in their eyes, just as they are core in the card's other half. There are reasons for his actions, but those actions are not "good", regardless of intent or reason.

#rdr2 #red dead redemption 2 #bill williamson #micah bell #headcanon #characters as major arcana

[shiny-jr]

Legit had to take a long sigh before I decided how to reply to this ask I got that follows the topic of the last asks. I decided to copy paste here because it’s a long one, and I wanted to put the warnings first. So, WARNING, talk of non-con, dub-con, etc. Minors, please stay away from this particular conversation. We’ll be back to our regular stuff shortly, hopefully. 

anon in the inbox: i don't think non-con or dub-con is an issue, like pretty sure that's a part of BDSM roleplay (correct me if im wrong but that's what ive seen explained before) so it's not that concerning to me; people just have some kinks. i personally don't like it either (because i find it very uncomfortable and just not to my taste) but to flat out say that writers who do write this kind of stuff need therapy or are concerning is just kind of rude? i don't mean to offend but people are allowed to enjoy certain things, it's all based on preference after all. but like that one other anon said and you commented on tagging work, that is pretty annoying. there should always be a warning about that type of stuff cause it can be triggering. there is (to me at least) a very clear line between fantasy and reality and I'm sure a lot of writers can distinguish the fact that yandere content is just not okay for irl even if they write stuff that may "romanticise" it (you shouldn't be reading that type of content anyway if you're not feeling okay so it's kinda on the reader too if the work is properly tagged) like i enjoy reading soft yandere stuff with a darling who accepts the red flags but i know that in real life this would be very disturbing and just flat out manipulation and i'd never want to find myself in this position. i think you might have over exaggerated this aspect a bit but i do respect your opinion and you are entitled to it but im just leaving my thoughts for others. 

Me, personally, I think non-con and dub-con is an issue. Because that stuff derives from no consent or not clear consent and it’s not just in bdsm role-play, it’s also in fanfics. And I do think it’s concerning that people do genuinely enjoy reading/writing those topics. Can I stop them? No. Is what I say gonna stop them? Most likely no. All I can do is keep that stuff off my page and avoid it. 

As for the whole fantasy and reality stuff with the yandere thing, I know it’s fantasy, I know most people know it’s fantasy too, but there are still very young impressionable children that get their hands on electronics and end up on sites they should not be on at their age. I mentioned something similar before. I know minors follow me, I know they read my stuff, I know they’re on this site, minors that should be focusing on other stuff instead of reading questionable things on the internet. This is the reason why I’m so adamantly against the romanticization of yanderes and why I refuse to write it. Because there are readers young enough that can’t quite yet distinguish the line between fantasy and reality. They see this stuff about yanderes and may come to think, “oh, I want a yandere! this violent and (sometimes maybe) abusive stuff is okay! Their manipulation and unhealthy obsession is okay too if they say they love me!” 

Finally, you said you enjoy reading about soft yanderes with an mc that accepts the red flags. If that’s the case, I’m not sure why you’re here if you read my stuff. Yes, I write “soft” yanderes, but I don’t write anything accepting a Yandere’s red flags. As spoken about here. If you disagree with the things I said, oh well, I said earlier that I wasn’t likely to change your mind. Just don’t ever ask me to write anything like non-con or romanticizing yanderes. This is the last post I’m gonna talk about this topic, because really, I just wanted to spend my evening writing and relaxing. Yet here we are. I probably missed some stuff, but this talk made me tired. If another message about this comes up in the inbox, it’s getting deleted. 

#shiny rants #probably important

[arthyritis]

A Wonderful World (Welcome Home/Puppet Friends AU) - Chapter Two

The whistling sound of the kettle interrupted Pip and Frank's conversation, and Frank excused himself to fetch it so he could make the two of them some fresh afternoon tea while Pip sat in the side room filled with butterflies in frames. Frank was telling it all about the different types, and Pip just couldn't help its excitement.

It swung its legs, dangling off of the couch as it waited for its new friend to return. Soon enough, they did.

Frank sat back down, handing Pip a cup of steaming tea. He stared at it with the cup for a moment before lifting his own to his mouth and sipping, watching as Pip copied, and brightened. "That's really nice. Thank you."

"You've never had tea before?" Frank asked, taking another sip. "This is another otherworld thing, isn't it?"

Pip's new friend had taken to the news of it coming from another world much better than Poppy had. Even though they didn't quite understand how that was possible, nor how there was already a house ready for it to move into, they did know there was something uo with Wally just as much as Pip did.

They didn't, however, understand how Pip knew who Wally was from such a brief meet. They didn't bother asking many questions, though.

"I guess so. I didn't need to eat or drink when I was with my keeper." Toy was the word it had used to describe itself, demeaning as it felt to Frank. "I went on so many adventures, though."

"Well, talk about those adventures, then," Frank pressed. He was more curious than he was letting on. Any information was good information, and Pip was happy to provide.

,

The library that had once been Pip's home was made out in stories to be a place of hell and haven in one. And the girl who took him in was like the angel he never knew he needed.

Frank was absolutely enthralled by the time the next knock came at the door. Opening it to once again see Wally's smiling face was like those stories of hell come true.

Frank sighed, "Come on in, Wally. We're just finishing tea. Eddie should be back any moment, too."

"Thank you, Frank Frankly."

Pip shifted in its seat as it heard the now-familiar voice. It had been playing on a loop in the back of its head since it had arrived, and only Frank had pushed the thought aside.

The uncertainty came back full force.

"Pip," Wally greeted as he walked in the room ahead of Frank. His shoes tapped on the floor and his eyes wandered around the coffee table. "I think it's about time we take a tour of your new home."

The smallest puppet nodded, hopping off of the couch with a sigh and setting the empty teacup down so that Frank could tidy up. "Bye, Frank. I hope you have a good night."

Frank smiled. "I'm sure I will. Enjoy your new house tonight."

They waved goodbye as Wally led Pip out the door into the early evening.

Pip stayed quiet as they walked past some houses he had already seen as well as a couple he hadn't (a cutesy red and white house with a flowery yellow door, a house decorated like a stage) until they came up to a small light blue house with a clean white door.

A small silver doorknob was right at his height, and a matching white mailbox which wasn't too high up the wall. A couple of pieces of mail were already poking out of it, but he ignored that to open the door instead, surprised when it was unlocked but sighing in contempt when Wally just said, "We're all very respectful here." He'd work around that, somehow.

Wally stayed outside of the door as Pip stepped in, exactly like he had at Frank's house.

Pip considered inviting him in, if only because of how new this all was, but decided against it. "Good night, Wally," it said softly. Of course, it wasn't even late yet, but Pip needed to take everything in, and an excuse it was, it being night was the easiest.

The smile on the other's face never seemed to drop. "Goodnight, neighbour," he relented quicker than Pip expected and walked off toward that red house in the middle of the neighbourhood before it could say anything else.

He let the door shut in front of him and turned to admire the house in peace.

As much as he was cautious and hating that this had happened (the how was still the biggest mystery), he had to admit the house was... nice. And it was all his.

It was so used to sharing--the box that it'd lived in with its friends at the library, the attention of its keeper, even clothes when some kids decided its yellow and white raglan shirt suited its fox friend better than it did Pip.

It took one step forward, further exploring the entrance hallway. A simple painted desk sat by the door, accompanied by a matching chair.

They looked like they were painted by a child, someone in the neighbourhood, maybe?

A stairway was several feet away, leading to a dark upstairs that Pip disregarded to turn into an open doorway leading to a front room. Attached to it nearby was a small kitchen and dining room.

It all looked so small, but so perfectly sized for him, with just a bit of extra room to walk around. He guessed whoever lived in the bigger houses would have a bit of trouble navigating, but they'd fit... if he ever so planned to have them over.

Poppy sprang back to mind. She had been so kind when he'd unknowingly toppled in here. Was she like that with everybody? Was it just because he was the so-called 'new neighbour'? He was sure he'd rather that just being her personality, because maybe that meant he had two friends here, then. Two people to help him get home.

"--once you give Home a fair chance." Wally's words from their first meeting replayed in his head and he had to groan to try and drown it out.

It didn't help that he didn't exactly have a choice as of right now. Without an answer blatantly obvious, it might take a while.

The kitchen was filled, as he found himself standing by the cabinets and looking through them. This was more food than he'd ever seen. He'd have to find a cookbook, or ask one of the others for help since he didn't exactly know how to cook.

Oh boy, the pressure to engage with his new neighbours was really on here, wasn't it? Did he have to pay all of this back, too? He hoped it was just a welcome gift, like the entire house.

Pip was done thinking for the night and decided to forgo looking around any further except to find a bed to settle down in. And it was easy enough, with only two doors at the top of the stairs, one open to a bathroom and the other adorning a flowery sign that said, "____'s Room" in pretty, squiggly writing. The style of flowers looked similar to that red and white house it had passed with Wally, and he assumed its name was meant to go on the line--another time.

It pressed into the room and looked around for a moment before hopping up and collapsing back onto the red, yellow and blue checkered quilt to fall asleep.

,

The morning sun was warm on Pip's face, making it curl into the blankets happily and reaching for one of its friends like it did every morning. Only its hand met nothing but the air beside the small bed.

He jumped up quickly, throwing the quilt off and toppling off of the bed. The lack of space of going to be something else to get used to.

But all thought was quickly thrown out the window as a landline phone he hadn't paid attention to last night started ringing on his bedside table. He let it ring in shock, before it stopped and he stood up from the rug to look out the window.

More neighbours were out and about today. He spotted a blonde head of hair jumping rope while also following a hopscotch drawn onto the pavement. They looked like they were having fun. It was something his fox friend back home would possibly try; he should remember this to tell her--

The phone gave him a cold dose of reality once again. Why couldn't this have been a dream?

Its hand reached for the phone this time and picked up the call. "Hello?"

"Good morning, Pip. How did you sleep?"

Pip held its breath and looked out the window again. Wally was nowhere to be seen, so how could he know...? "Fine," he forced out in as friendly a manner as he could. "I miss my friends at home, though."

Wally hummed. "I'm sure that'll lessen as time passes." Before Pip could respond to that, Wally continued, "It would seem Poppy wants your attention, so I do hope you didn't make any early morning plans with Frank yesterday."

Sure enough, a soft knock came to Pip's door not even a moment later.

"Thanks for that..." Pip didn't wait for a response before placing the telephone back down and going downstairs to the door.

Maybe he was just tired last night, but looking at the house now gave him a sense of joy. Again, the reminder that this was all his stuck at the front. He smiled as he answered the door to the rainbow bird.

"Good morning, sunshine!" Poppy greeted, holding a basket down to it. "I hope you don't mind me bringing some baking over for you to try."

Pip's button eyes widened and it shook its head with that same smile. "No, come in."

"Thank you, dear." Pip moved to let the bird in, and, yep, she just fit, her head feathers flattening against the top of the doorframe as she crouched and entered. "So, Frank told me this is all new to you. In light of it, I went ahead and made muffins and breads for you. Though the muffins turned out more like cupcakes because I couldn't resist frosting them. There are also some cookies I made with Julie the other day--have you met Julie? Never mind. We'll go meet everyone later and anyway--" she stopped ranting to take a breath. "I just hope you'll like them... the treats and the other neighbours."

"I'm sure I will," Pip responded, closing the door behind Poppy. She looked around the house in just as much awe as Pip himself had. "You're right, though. So far, I've only met you, Frank, and Wally. Everyone's been kind, but you're going to make me feel like I owe you all." He laughed.

Poppy set the basket down on the dining room table and spun around as best as she could. "Oh, no, dear. You don't owe us anything. This house and everything in it is all yours. No stipulations."

This was also sort of new to Pip. To answer, it nodded and let that be the end of it. In its head, an art piece for both of its friends was taking shape. It felt no guilt about not thinking about Wally for the time being.

"Thank you. I appreciate it all, even if I won't be here long."

At those words, Poppy frowned. "Yes, I remember. You do miss your old friends dearly. Which reminds me, might you need anything to make your stay more comfortable? We all tried our very best to make this place liveable, but, of course, if there's anything that might make you happier during your stay, or less homesick, please let me know."

"Let me give it some thought?"

Poppy chirped, "Of course, Pip. How about we make you some breakfast, hm? How does pancakes sound?"

,

"Are you sure you've never cooked before?" Poppy teased with a loving glint in her eyes. Her new little neighbour was sitting at the dining table eating the pancakes they had made topped with fresh berries, and while it was covered nearly head to toe in flour and batter, it still looked happier than she'd seen since it arrived.

Pip knew she was teasing, patting the dirt off of its shirt with her wing between bites of food. It smiled, just thinking about how easy it was to get along with her.

It stuffed another bite in its mouth. "So, other than baking, what do you like to do for fun, Poppy?"

"Oh! Well, baking is my main hobby, but I'm also the Home's resident nurse of sorts. It's terribly difficult to reach any doctors from here; luckily, no one ever gets hurt badly enough that it's an emergency, though. Besides that, we all enjoy putting on shows for one another and collaborating on art projects!" Poppy looked off fondly. Her wing remained on Pip's face as she wiped away the last of the pancake mess and he laughed as her feathers tickled him.

The words sunk in and Pip's eyes brightened as he finished his pancakes. "Art projects?"

"Yes," Poppy said wistfully. "If you like art, I'm sure you'll fit right in."

Pip hopped up from his chair, then. "Well, I guess I'm in luck. Where can I get some art supplies?"

#welcome home fanfic #Puppet Friends #grey does writing

[niuttuc]

So I saw a post about this concept and thought it would make for a interesting ask. Magical damage, like a necromancers fingers slowly turning black and losing sensation or a wizard with lighting bolt scares across their arms. What dose it look like when Arnoss, Zarunpel, Sezashi and Dancing-Hands push their magic beyond what their bodies can handle?

I find this question funny because of all my characters you could have picked, those are probably the ones that can strain their magic the least! So instead, let's talk about why they don't really do that, and we'll touch on the question! But I do appreciate the effort of narrowing down your questions to some characters for the copy-paste when it comes to my inbox, it hasn't gone unnoticed.

Most of the magic for Arnoss and Zarunpel is passive.

Zarunpel's "blessing" from the Wilds might not even function under the same rules as traditional magic, it follows more narrative rules. It affects her body and hair in many ways, but when it comes to the limits of it, it often is more about what would make a better story. She's stronger than someone that looks like her should be, but depending on what she has to do, the exact degree to which this is true varies. As long as it's somewhat reasonable, in important situations she's often just strong enough or almost but not there, depending which tells a "better" story. Of course, she has no idea how that works.

As far as her spellcasting, it's mostly temporary protection spells, they're more likely to be cast too late or not last long enough than to hurt her when she overuses them. Which means she or whatever she's protecting gets hurt the way it otherwise would have been. When the Urborg panther living in her shadow gets "killed" or banished in some ways, Zarunpel can also be left without a shadow for a time while Vel reconstitutes.

Similarly, Arnoss's magic is mostly passive buffing and reinforcing his scales, when it is overstrained, he gets hurt the normal way. However, it also depends on how many people need and want his help nearby, and in some cases that can be overwhelming to feel during major disasters in populated areas. So many people needing help and he can't help all of them. And he's found that when he tries to help all of them in a city when it's not a disaster, he exhausts himself going from one to the other for hours and days, there's always something in large population centers.

Sezashi has a hard cap on the number of spells he can maintain at once, at four, represented by the floaty objects that orbit him. While some are harder to maintain than others (maintaining multiple charges of the same nature on someone else requires concentration and effort), the failure point is usually just that one or multiple of the spells slip and come back to him, and he probably isn't in a state to reuse them just yet. With that said, premature failure of magic that can manipulate sizes and create duplicates is generally not a good idea, plenty of unfortunate timings possible. Also duplicates that are ended in this way don't fuse back as cleanly to the original, which certainly causes headache and can cause the loss of memories the duplicate had.

Dancing-Hands's innate telekinesis can be overpowered or overwhelmed, but it's very difficult, and it generally doesn't strain the kitsune much to use. Using it on non-physical things is more relevant here. It only works on nonliving elements. Using it on eldrazis, even scions and briefly, made him feel sick and gave him headaches, and he couldn't sustain it for more than a few seconds. He rediscovered how to use it on magical effects not too long ago, and that has taken a lot more out of him, and could potentially replicate or redirect harmful effects to him if he's not careful. The telekinesis itself is invisible if not for its effects.

As far as his Kanji magic, well, he typically only uses ink, and on paper, but much more powerful and dangerous opportunities are possible when this type of magic is used with blood (or other living material) and on living tissue. Be it using his paper blade on himself or drawing with his own blood on paper, the result would be white paper and fur marred in reds. It's not something he'd ever want to do, but in theory, it's possible.

#mtg #fanwalker #fanwalker asks #Arnoss #Zarunpel #dancing hands #Sezashi

[slashhinginghasher]

Monster ch. 3 - Confession (John Tyler x OFC)

Shorter chapter this time around in an effort to update before the six month mark.

Chapter summary: Confessions are made (or: traumatized gf vs. bf who gets hard when she cries)

TW for discussion of past violent miscarriage in this chapter

Opening quote taken from The Wolf In Your Darkest Room by Matthew Mayfield (another very John Tylerish song)

Read (and comment) on Ao3 here

~

I am your future

I am your past

I am the secret out at last

You thought you found my limit

But you don't seem to know

No, you don't seem to know

How far I'd go

~

The old radiator wheezed unhappily in the corner as John circled Ieva’s meager apartment. It was slightly larger than the sad little hole he’d called home back in Texas, but most of that extra space was taken up by the presence of an actual kitchen instead of a mini-fridge and hotplate.

He started in the bathroom, sponging himself clean by the shower and inhaling the delicate florals of her soaps and shampoo. The bathroom cabinet contained a handful of cosmetics and skincare products, which he recognized as nicer than the drug store brands but still cheap. Conspicuously absent was any type of medication, not even a cough drop or an ibuprofen. A personal choice, or a habit forced on her by unsympathetic rehabilitation programs?

John had been tripped up by the spelling of her name. For nearly an entire frustrating week, he’d thought he would need to wait until the Times article was released to find her (Janine had complained bitterly and at great length about Ieva’s no-show in the days after John was abandoned). Thankfully, inspiration had struck, and he soon found himself five years deep in her old high school’s social media accounts. Eventually, he’d found a complete digital copy of the yearbook from her senior year and had been able to proceed from there.

(It was a wonder the incidence of stalking and assault among young people wasn’t higher than it already was. They didn’t just leave gaps; they left chasms.)

Bolts of fabric in various blues, purples, and teals were tacked to the ceiling in the main room, giving the place a faintly underwater feel. A dizzying array of rugs, worn but clean, were scattered across the concrete floor. The entire apartment, in fact, was well kept, albeit a bit cluttered around the corners. That was a pleasant surprise for John, who preferred an orderly home himself; so few people these days appreciated the beneficial properties of a tidy space.

If he’d thought she’d be easy to find once he had the name pinned down, he was sorely mistaken. Unlike her careless peers, Ieva did not appear to have any social media accounts, at least none connected to her real name. The Murphys, when carefully questioned, didn’t even know what state she lived in. She had driven in, which eliminated Hawai’i and probably Alaska, but the entire contiguous United States was hardly a helpful starting point.

John drifted over to the full-length mirror on the wall, sparing a moment’s admiration for the sight of his toned, naked body before crouching to inspect the table of tattooing equipment next to it. The careful organization of it, the bottles of ink and the needles in their little plastic cases, reminded him of his shrine back home. It was easy to imagine her kneeling in front of the mirror, nude and etching her own form of prayer into her skin under the flickering light of the candles that crowded every flat surface of the room like mushrooms. His cock twitched at the thought.

Growing more desperate by the day, he’d searched for her name with increasingly unlikely combinations of words, drawing on every feature of hers he could think of, going ten, twenty pages deep into the search engine results until… at last. A single photo deep in the archives of the webpage for a tattoo convention in Illinois, featuring Ieva half-smiling in a small group of equally inked and pierced people and captioned with the holy grail - the name of a tattoo shop in another city. She went by her initials on the shop website; that was why she hadn’t shown up in his earlier searches. He contacted the rental office that same day to end his month-by-month lease on the caretaker’s house. He gave the Murphys a half-baked excuse about writing inspiration taking him on the road again, and by the end of the week, he was leaving Virginia for good.

The walls of Ieva’s apartment were plastered with drawings on various types of paper, wild scribblings that were too elaborate or detailed to make good tattoos (or so John thought, though he was no expert on the subject). One in particular, hanging at eye level by the bookshelf, caught his attention: a dark, crowded forest with a four-legged creature pacing just beyond the treeline. The animal’s body was silhouetted by the branches of the trees, the only clear detail the sharp white points of its eyes. John felt a prickle on the back of his neck as he studied it. He felt watched. Seen.

He rented a cheap motel room near the tattoo shop. It only took a couple days of careful observation (not stalking) to find her apartment building. Ieva’s neighborhood was bad, the sort of place with trash on the sidewalks and bars on all the windows that weren’t boarded up. John found himself looking into nearby real estate, already planning to move her to a safer neighborhood if she wouldn’t let him remove her from the city altogether. He had planned to case the inside of the building before finally making contact. But when she returned early from work, trudged right past him on the sidewalk without even noticing (why hadn’t she noticed him?), he couldn’t stay away any longer.

He had to touch her.

John had planned meticulously for every possible reaction. Best case scenario: she leapt straight into his arms, admitting that she’d been muddled by the visit with the Murphys but had left him her name as a calling card and had eagerly awaited his arrival, knowing that he’d be able to find her. (Highly unlikely, but a man could dream.) Worst case scenario: she rejected him outright, fought him like his past conquests, and he had to keep her bound and gagged in her apartment before he could smuggle her back to the motel.

He’d expected her actual response would be somewhere in between, and he was right, but felt somewhat hollow in his victory. While the complete physical surrender was appreciated, John had no idea what to do with the sad, unmoving lump of girl that lay curled in on herself on the bed. Ieva wasn’t crying anymore. He had to watch her closely to make sure she was even still breathing.

John sighed and moved to inspect her nightstand when he noticed a flash of red plaid poking out from under one of the pillows on the bed. He fished it out, jealousy twisting his stomach for a moment before turning to electric excitement. It was a man’s flannel shirt. His flannel shirt - he recognized the cuff he’d mended after snagging it on one of the Murphys’ wooden fences. He had a polaroid in his briefcase of Ieva sound asleep in his bed, wearing that exact shirt and nothing else, and now it was here, tucked under her covers like a child’s favorite blanket. Did she wrap herself in it at night? Did she touch herself while wearing it, pretending it was him? God knew the polaroid had provided ample masturbatory inspiration for him over the past weeks.

Riding that swell of confidence, he stretched out beside her. Their combined spend was still glistening on her thighs. John wanted to lick her clean; his mouth watered at the thought. He rolled her onto her back, and they both jolted in surprise when their eyes met. John hadn’t expected Ieva’s eyes to be open with how still she was, and Ieva–

“You’re still here,” she mumbled, almost to herself. “Why are you still here?”

He kissed her lips, dipping his tongue briefly inside, then her chin, then her throat, following the delicate line of her neck downward. She pulled away, shrinking back into the mattress to escape his questing mouth.

“What do you want, John?”

John furrowed his brow at her. Wasn’t it obvious? Was she playing some sort of game?

“You.”

He sucked her nipple into his mouth, giving a teasing almost-bite before releasing it.

“Here.”

The other one now, rolling the tight bud between his teeth.

“Just. Like. This.”

Each word was punctuated with a hot, open-mouthed kiss down her stomach. Ieva squirmed and made sounds of protest as he circled her navel with his tongue, but John would not be deterred now that he was so close to his goal. He was almost panting as he dipped lower, ghosting over her pubic bone, tongue darting out to–

“Stop!”

Ieva kicked out, catching him in the chest. John rocked back on his heels and she scrambled backwards to press against the wall. Her hair was a tangled wreck, eyes wild with a desperate confusion.

“Why are you here? And don’t don’t don’t say you missed me!”

“I want you.”

It really was that simple. John wanted her, and John would have her. She wanted him too, even if she seemed to have temporarily forgotten that fact. She gave him her name, gave him her trauma when no one else was allowed; that meant something. She just came four times in a row on his cock. If he didn’t know better, he’d swear she was trying to anger him on purpose with this ungrateful act. But he did know her better. Didn’t he?

Ieva was shaking her head, frantic.

“Why?!”

“You understand me.”

“No I don’t! I don’t even know you! And if you knew anything about me you would not be here, you–”

Ieva cut off with a yelp as John dragged her off the bed by the arm and threw her bodily into the bathroom, slamming the door shut behind her. He wasn’t quite sure what he intended to accomplish with that, but he needed to think, and he couldn’t do that with those big blue eyes boring into him. He just… he needed a minute, some space to clear his head before he did something he’d regret.

John was excellent at reading people. It was his greatest asset, more so than a handsome face or physical strength. Hell, it was what had drawn Mary Barlow to him in the first place, setting him on the path that led to this apartment and this tragic, perfect girl. Had he really miscalculated so badly? Had he been blinded by a pretty face and a sweet, dripping cunt and started seeing connections where they didn’t exist? Was he wrong?

No. No, what they had was real. He was sure of it. Ieva was just young and scared and didn’t know how to process these feelings. And that was John’s fault, partially: he had taken too much from her without giving in return. Orgasms weren’t a sufficient replacement for honesty. He had withheld information at the start because he was afraid of her rejection, but they had reached a point in their relationship that called for total transparency.

The shower had turned on and then back off while he paced. When he opened the bathroom door with an armful of Ieva’s clothes, she was perched on the edge of the toilet lid, wrapped in a towel and her shivering arms.

“Get dressed,” he ordered, tossing the clothes at her. He pulled on his own clothes without waiting to see if she obeyed. He fetched their shoes from the entryway and rifled through her closet for a coat. Later, he would go through everything again, slowly, taking in every texture and color and pattern, but right now he was single-minded in his mission to move to a more controlled location.

He hoped she wouldn’t take the impending conversation too badly. He hoped she’d understand. But if she tried to run again… well. He could still work with that.

***

“Are you kidnapping me?” she asked in the car.

John smiled faintly and tightened his hands around the steering wheel. He did not answer her.

***

All motel rooms were the same, fundamentally. Sure, the cheap paintings on the walls might be themed to the locale, the linens a different color, the scratchy carpets varying in their shades of brown and grey. But the transience was the same, the sense that you were stepping into a sort of waiting room on the sidelines of your life every time you crossed the threshold. A motel room, for the duration of one’s stay, was a self-contained universe. The events that took place within those walls belonged to the occupants, and them alone.

John slipped the “Do Not Disturb” placard over the doorknob and took his time doing up all the locks. He closed the blinds and turned up the thermostat, holding his hands over the vent until he felt the warm air blowing out. He toed out of his shoes and draped his jacket neatly over the chair next to the little table in the corner.

This was normally the part where the women started to panic, if they weren’t already when he dragged them through the door. Their eyes would dart wildly over the locks on the door and gauge the distance to the window. He let them make a run for it occasionally, catching them with an arm around the waist just before their fingers touched the doorknob or the latch, but not often; it wasn’t worth the risk of a passerby catching a glimpse of the struggle. Sometimes they barricaded themselves in the bathroom, as though the flimsy wooden barrier would prove to be any more than a momentary deterrent. They babbled and swore and pleaded and tried to fight him off with the cheap furniture.

Ieva was doing none of those things. She simply stood in the middle of the room and watched him trepidatiously. There was tension in every line of her posture, the hunched shoulders and folded arms, the nervous fingers and unblinking eyes.

She didn’t look for weapons or exits. She only looked at him.

John found himself uncharacteristically tongue-tied. He knew full well that he was stalling; he wouldn’t have to say the words he was dreading if he never broke the silence in the first place. So instead he did what he had been dreaming of for months, what he wanted to do every day for the rest of his life: he cupped Ieva’s face in both hands and kissed her.

Someone had once told John he was incapable of love. That was patently untrue. He loved that Ieva had to stand on the very tips of her toes to reach him. He loved how the curve of her skull fit in his palms, and how small her hands felt when she grasped at his arms for balance. He loved the softness of her lips, chapped though they were. He loved the taste of her as he massaged her tongue with his. He loved the warmth that suffused every inch of his body in a way that went far beyond arousal whenever she was near. He loved the high color in her cheeks and the tears in her eyes and the fine tremble in her limbs as he reached for the buttons on her coat.

He took his time undressing her, unveiling her so slowly it was like he was seeing her body for the first time. He trailed the pads of his fingers along every bared expanse of skin, desire written in the goosebumps that followed like braille. When she stood before him in nothing but her panties, he stepped away. He pulled his belt free of the loops with a decisive snap that made Ieva jump, then sat against the headboard with his legs stretched out straight before him.

He set the belt on the nightstand in case he needed it, but he didn’t think he would.

“Come here,” he said, patting the bed next to his thigh. His voice was soft, but carried an unmistakable undercurrent of command. As soon as Ieva was within reach, he grabbed her by the hips and lifted her to straddle his lap. The little gasp she let out went straight to his cock, and he had to undo his button and zipper to relieve some of the painful constriction against his erection. Maybe he could fuck her before… No. It had to be done and it had to be done now.

“You never asked me why I was in prison,” John murmured, brushing his thumbs over her nipples. “Not once.”

“You didn’t want me to.” How perfect they were together, that they could read each other so well without words! There was a catch in Ieva’s voice that sounded like she was about to moan or cry. Maybe both.

John caught the sweet scent of jasmine as he trailed his nose along her jaw, nudging aside her still-damp hair.

“I raped fourteen women,” he whispered, letting his mouth brush the shell of her ear, “and I only got caught for two.”

Ieva went statue-still in his arms. John kept his face buried in the crook of her neck, arms around her waist like bands of iron in case she tried to bolt. But she didn’t. She just sat there, rigid and unmoving, and it was killing John to be patient. When she finally spoke, her voice was hoarse.

“If I had fought back,” she said slowly, and she didn’t have to specify when, “would you have hurt me?”

John’s fingers spasmed reflexively against her back.

“Yes.”

Another excruciating beat before she inhaled shakily.

“Do you still want to hurt me?”

“No,” he said immediately. Then, in the spirit of honesty: “Not like that.”

Another woman might have asked what he meant by that. Another woman might have begged him to clarify the ways in which he did want to hurt her, so she could assign motivations, however incorrect, to match the picture of him she held in her head. But Ieva didn’t, because she understood him and she trusted him and she knew that his motivation was - and would only ever be - love.

John felt the muscles of her throat flexing under his mouth, filling him with the need to suck and lick and bite. He was starving for her. He arched his hips up to grind his bulge against her.

And she recoiled.

John snarled, an animalistic sound from deep in his chest. He tried to pull her back in, but Ieva had braced her forearms against his chest and was holding herself apart with a surprising amount of strength. She was no longer looking him in the eye.

He was reaching for the belt when she opened her mouth again, and the expression on her face was so terrible that he immediately stopped.

“There was a girl, back near the end of things. I don’t remember her name. Ruthie. Ruth Anne. I don’t know. I always thought she was so much older than me but now I don’t know if she was even eighteen.” She shook her head. “Anyway. She was fucking Randall, so I saw her a lot. She got pregnant. Was so excited to tell him when it started showing.”

Ieva swallowed hard.

“She was stupid. She was so, so stupid.”

Anger laced through her words, the type of directionless hurt that you never knew whether to aim it at yourself or someone else.

“He was pissed, obviously. He beat the shit out of her. I didn’t see ‘cause I was in my– the other room,” (John did not miss that stutter) “because I was smart enough to stay away from him, but I could hear it. Didn’t think much of it at first because people were always getting knocked around at the Tower. ‘S what happens when you put a bunch of junkies in one place. But she crawled into the room when he was done with her. Had her shirt pulled up and you could see it all red and black and purple where he’d kicked her. And she just kept screaming ‘my baby, my baby, my baby’.”

John could feel Ieva’s nails digging into him through his shirt.

“That’s the only thing she’d say, ‘my baby, my baby’. And she was starting to bleed already between the legs. Off her fucking head, grabbing at her stomach like she could keep the thing in even though we both knew it was too late.”

The tears rolling down her face were mechanical. She didn’t seem to notice them.

“She must’ve been in so much pain. I was coming off a high, twitchy and the whole world hurt and there was this bitch screeching like nails in my fucking head and bleeding all over my mattress. And I hated her. I hated her for making my ears hurt and for ruining my bed because I’d have to start sleeping in the bathtub again after that. I just wanted her to shut up. So I stabbed her in the throat.”

Her voice was strained, starting to break.

“Randall had all the knives and the only thing I could find was this broken old pen. And I had to do it a whole bunch of times, over and over,  because I didn’t get it deep enough or I missed the vein. Over and over and over. Whole time she’s shrieking and sobbing and begging me to help her, and there’s so much blood she looks like she’s already been murdered twice. I was so mad I was almost blind with it and I just kept going until the screaming turned into gurgling. And then I just sat there and I watched.”

Her mouth was trembling.

“I should’ve held her hand or something while she died. She was so scared. I don’t even feel bad about killing her but I was so cruel about it. I’m a monster. I should have held her hand.”

Ieva looked up at John and it was like a dam breaking.

“How can you even look at me? I’m filth all over.”

With an agonized wail, she collapsed against his chest.

“Oh, baby,” John crooned, bundling her into his arms. “Sweet girl.”

The endless platitudes were there - you were a child, you were sick, there were extenuating circumstances, it wasn’t your fault, she would have died anyway - but John didn’t say any of them. She wouldn’t want to hear them. He just held her instead, pressing kisses to her hair and making soothing noises while sob after gut-wrenching sob wracked her fragile frame.

This was it then: a window into the thing that made Ieva, Ieva. A massive, suffocating pain that had built itself up inside her so tall and so wide that she couldn’t even fathom having room for something else. Such a heavy burden, carried alone for so long. John was no knight, but he knew that his purpose now, his raison d’etre, was to rescue this girl from her Tower. There would be no castles for people like them, but… His fairytale analogies were running out. A snide little voice in the back of his head that sounded suspiciously like Mary Barlow was whispering about wolves and little red-cloaked girls, but he pushed it away. Fuck everyone’s golden princes and storybook morals. Sometimes beautiful things came from experiences that hurt, and were all the more beautiful for the blackened soil they grew from.

At some point in the evening, Ieva whispered something against the soaking wet patch she’d made on his chest. John couldn’t quite make it out, but it sounded a lot like “Please don’t leave me.”

#john tyler #tell me your secrets #john tyler x ofc #my writing

[dmpflinn]

copied and pasted from another posting.

Are Meghan Markle's kids FAKE? 🤔

Megnant

1 Size: Bump drastically altering in size, even in a single day 😯

2 Slip: Bump slipped down to her knees in Birkenhead, UK 😯

3 Wobble: Bump wobbled side-to-side as she crossed the street. 😯

4 Clutching: Supporting her bump with her hands overly often. 🤔

5 Popping: audibly popped in a video, and wafted her clothes😯

6 Shape: Bump unnaturally shaped on Netflix🤔

7 Straps: Moonbump straps outlines visible under clothing in several photos. And something snapped, impacting the clothing fabric (video of H&M in London)😯

8 Biology: An absence of swelling of ankles, and other subtle biological (non)signs.🤔

9 Holding: Carrying a (doll?) infant on her bump, instead of on her hip.🤔

10 Squats: Squatting, effortlessly, with her knees together in videos and photos. In heels.😯

Births

11 Announcements: Royal official birth announcements are indirect. One states they are delighted "by the news of the" (not by the actual) birth.🤔

12 Coverup? A medic who certified a birth closed down her practice shortly afterwards.😯

13 Certificates: Questions linger over the birth certificates signatures, etc.🤔

14 Leak: An official Royal twitter account tweet indicated that Meghan’s kids are fake, before being taken down. An innocent prank?😁

15 Recovery: Epidural (ouch!) birth in a bath description anomalies and arriving home too soon afterwards to be quite plausible.🤔

16 Born Of Body?: Meghan allegedly told a friend she was infertile, when at college, and there was a reported alleged hysterectomy before the births.

17 Silence: Meghan is silent on her claimed births, despite always flashing her bump; having a "Capacity for over sharing"; boasting about being a “Mom”, and always talking about herself (apparently) on her feminist podcast. 🤔

Rented Infants

18 Archie Model: The real parents of the infant predominantly shown in Archie photos are identified. 💥

19 Lilibet Model: Parents of the infant shown in Lilibet photos are identified.💥

20 Loan: Mother of “Lilibet” commented on Insta that she does not "loan" her daughter to Meghan any longer.😯

21 Shape-Shifting: Different infants used in photos of both Archie and Lilibet.😯

22 Photoshopping: A litany of incompetently-photoshopped “family” photos. (A huge topic in itself).🤔

Dolls

23 Reborn Doll: Seemingly cradling a doll (a product called Darren) in official photo of Archie 🪆

24 Party Doll: Meghan seemingly cradled a similar doll when gate-crashing a polo match party, begetting astonished looks.😯

25 Bumpy Ride: Meghan seemed to be lugging an inanimate doll on top of her bump through some woods in Canada. Whilst grinning at a hired pap.🪆

26 Twisted: In one photograph, Archie's head is twisted more than 90 degrees 🪆

27 Carrying: A high % of photographs show them carrying the “kids” 🪆

28 Backs-Turned: A high % of Photos are of kids facing away from the camera 🤔

Other Oddities

29 Website: A startling absence of updates of Royal website on Meghan’s offspring.🤔

30 Bishop: Los Angeles christening cleric was not the official Bishop the Harkles claimed he was.🤔

31 Implausible Platitudes: Claiming Archie’s first word was “Crocodile”, and that he demands a Leica camera for his birthday. As tots do...🤔

32 Merch: An uncharacteristic unwillingness to merchandise their kids, for $$$ or PR.🤔

33 Invisible: The Harkles are never seen with their kids. There are hints of "home schooling" (will they ever be allowed out?)😯

34 Family Holidays: Weirdly, the Harkles never take their kids on holiday, and, if they pretend they did, they incompetently photoshop them into pap snaps on Insta.🤔

35 Everything Else: All the stuff I overlooked in this hastily speed-typed list.🤔

🤔🤔🤔

Why does it matter? 🤔

Because rich Prince Harry wants we skint, long-suffering tax payers, to pay for his security expenses; he’s a traitor, and, well, it’s fraud, isn’t it? 💥

Feel free to leave evidence I missed out in the comments. 👍

#MeghanMarkleIsAGrifter

#MeghanMarkleExposed

#WhereAreTheKids

#sussexbabyscam

[szivtalan]

1, 2, 3, 4, 19, 26, 32, 34, 36, 38, 41, 43, 44, 47, 53, 54, 69, 72, 80, 83, 84, 92, 105, 107, 112, 113, 115, 118, 132, 135, 136, 137 for the ask some question thing please?

Oh shit this will be so long and I can't put a line break anywhere yells I'm Sorry

1) 3 Fears

- living at my hometown/country for my entire life and not seeing nor experiencing the rest of the world at all

- not making any impact on this world, leaving it as I found it

- needles

2) 3 things I love

- friends, my brother

- laying down on the ground on a sunny day and staring up at the sky, watching the clouds roll by

- dogs

3) 2 turn ons

- someone making an effort to talk to me and basically letting me know they think about me

- I think homiro said gentleness and I agree yeah, being kind-hearted and soft spoken and attentive to people around you,,,,, Yeah that shit good

4) 2 turn offs

- people feeling the need to express superiority over others at any given moment

- general intolerance

19) How I feel right now

Kind of really sad.... Annoyed that I can't sleep, a whole lot anxious about things, worried about the ringing in my ears being back

26) The reasons I joined Tumblr

I genuinely cannot remember, maybe it was to look at inumog doujinshis in my Shizaya days

32) Do I like my music loud or at a reasonable level?

Depends, low when I need to focus on something else, loud when I want to just let it get to me and dissociate

34) Am I excited for anything?

My binder!!! I want That,,, also, the things I ordered for me and a friend, my date tomorrow, meeting my friends on Tuesday (maybe), and on a long-term, I think starting school again, moving out and maybe traveling a lil.

36) How often do I wear a fake smile?

I think I do it a lot, especially if I'm not getting something or just want to be nice. Honey I work in customer service, being nice is part of my contract

38) What do I think about most?

If I made/am making the right choices.

41) Do I perfer talking on the phone or video chatting online?

I think video chatting is nicer bc u don't just hear people, you can also see their faces and therefore interpret their words better

43) Do I believe in magic?

No fam

44) Do I believe in luck?

Uhhh I don't think so? I just think things have consequences and everything is interconnected. I believe in happy coincidences.

47) Do I have any nicknames?

Vicki, Vic, Viku, Vee, Vitya, Shinai (notice how one of these doesn't fit w the rest) and yeah I guess Vamos

53) What's my favorite word?

Maybe szerelmeskedés (it's hungarian for lovemaking, but we have two words for love: 'szeretet' which is more on the platonic side, and 'szerelem' which contains the infatuated aspect of it. The stem "love" in this word is based on the latter, whereas the more common 'szeretkezés' has the first sort of love in it)

54) My top 5 blogs on Tumblr

JUST FIVE? Ah fuck @homiro @kuwoko @transbucky @incorrectbballboys @takao-au-lait

69) Gotten my heart broken?

Several times. You know, you'd think once you get through the first couple of heartbreaks you stop hoping and harden your heart, but mine's still plenty delicate and I just...keep getting my hopes up all the time.

72) Learned another language?

Yeah I mean adgj I've been learning English for over 14 years (give or take), learned some German in first grade and high school, Latin for 4 years and French for one and a half. I also tried Russian and Swedish in duolingo but it's just not the same u know

80) What do I want for birthday?

My friends to be happy and safe.

83) Have I ever got caught sneaking out or doing anything bad?

Mmm one time we as a class got caught drinking hard liquor, we were like 14 and some of us were seriously sloshed. Like near alcohol poisoning. We were all scolded harshly lol, but as an individual I think I've evaded being caught with shit so far. Which is incredible. I did so much stupid shit

84) What I'm really bad at

I suuuck at playing the guitar. My hearing's kinda wonky anyway, so I don't even actually know if my singing voice's nice or not, but I cannot carry a tune on guitar for dear life. I've been trying to learn this song, and it's a total of 4 chords, and the progress is terrible

92) What kind of people are you attracted to?

Sweet people who turn out to be sort of damaged, uh. Tall dudes with kind smiles and ropey muscles, and every girl ever probably. I can't really explain, looking back on my dating/crushing history, I do have a range dang

105) What do you do when you wake up?

Ideally, I lay in bed for a few more hours, have some adult fun time by myself, go out of my room, get washed up, make coffee, eat breakfast, get dressed. When I don't have time to do all this, I get half-dressed, eat, wash up, and dress up the rest of the way.

107) Do you ever want to get married?

....ha. As a child of divorce, I don't exactly believe in the sanctity of marriage, but like dude, who knows what will I think when I get there with a partner.

112) Do you believe everyone deserves a second chance?

Some do, when there's willingness to change and grow. But it's better to be wary if you do grant them second chances, because they might go down the same path unconsciously - sometimes it's just all they know, you know?

113) Do you smile at strangers?

Yeah, at everyone who seems nice to me. Shit, I do fake-smile a lot.

115) Ever wished you were someone else?

Only pfff all the time?

118) Ever won a competition? For what?

I don't think I have, but we did get a gold medal with our drama club at senior year of high school at a big nationwide event. I mean, we weren't the only one with a gold, it didn't exactly mean first place, but it was stil very cool!!

132) Do you type fast?

I think so, yes? One time my brother's best friend asked me about how fast I typed so I opened a new Facebook post and typed "[his name] is a butthole that's how fast" and he laughed sgfjd

135) Have you ever liked someone so much it hurt?

*aggressively sighs* YEAh a lot of folks okay!! I'm sensitive and I feel a lot

136) Is cheating ever okay?

No. It isn't.

137) Do you believe in true love?

I mean, I want to, but I think my ability to fall for someone in a matter of seconds kind of cheapens the whole love thing for me. I believe it exists, and that it's out there, but knowing it is and believing that I won't really experience it makes me really sad.

#ask and i shall answer #long post #meiyanaalexia #i'd reread but its so late and my eyes are tired just looking at this #holy fuck i wrote a lot #i even typed out the questions by hand instead of copy pasting #but yeah anyway its late im pining this was a good distraction thank

[ynscrazylife]

Break my Heart | n.r fluff fic

Summary: When Natasha sees the Avengers’ secretary alone on Valentine’s Day, she takes her chance.

Authors Note: Fic #1 of my Valentine’s Day event! This was inspired by the song Boyfriend by Dove Cameron.

Request to be on a taglist (or multiple) here! (Taglists are at the end of the fic)

Main Masterlist | MCU Masterlist #1 | MCU Masterlist #2 | Break my Heart Part 2

PSA: Do NOT copy, steal, translate, plagiarize, republish, etc any of my works on Tumblr or any other platform. Also, do NOT claim any of my works as your own. All of these works are either requests I’ve gotten that people have wanted me to write or original ideas I’ve had for works. If you happen to take inspiration from anything I’ve written and want to write something inspired by that, please a) ask me first and b) IF I say yes, credit me as inspo in your post by tagging me and link whatever work of mine that inspired you. Thanks.

header c @/editfandoms

A goofy smile rested on Natasha’s lips as she took a long sip from her wine glass, letting it dangle in her loose grip afterwards. The low hum of sauve, romantic beats happily flowed into her ears; serving as a gentle reminder to what day it was, exactly. Valentine’s Day.

Natasha did not have a Valentine — unless you counted her wine glass as one. So instead of staying in the Avengers tower and listening to Sam whine about his lack of girls, she opted to observe all the other happy couples and dress up. Anyone else would probably give her a weird look, why would she want to subject herself to clear torture for a single person? Natasha just shrugged when she got exactly that from her teammates, and offered them the answer that if she were to mope, she’d at least do it looking good with the chance of meeting someone.

She put on a black dress, did her make-up and hair, and was out the building before 30 minutes had passed. She went to a bar downtown, squeezing herself past all the couples who made out, until she finally made it to the bartender. Thankfully, there was some unoccupied space where the actual bar was. It was meant for dancing, but everyone was too busy flirting or drinking to engage in that.

Natasha stood off to the side, leaning against a high-built table, as she surveyed the room. There was something different about her stance than her usual one when she surveyed a room, which mostly happened on undercover mission. No alarm could be seen in her eyes and her posture was fully relaxed, not the half-relaxed, half-stiff posture she usually had.

The woman smiled seeing the couples, all appearing to be on a vacation in their own world. It was almost as if the bar was a lobby for all those separate worlds, and Natasha was just passing through. However, one particular person caught her eye. Natasha only saw her back at first, but the fact that she was standing alone was enough to hold the redhead’s gaze. Could it be that this person was here for the same reason that Natasha herself was?

Her question only got deeper when the person turned, revealing themselves to be someone Natasha knew quite well. Someone she’d call a friend, even. Y/N Y/L/N, who worked as the secretary at the Avengers tower and was hired by Tony. Seeing her planted butterflies in her stomach. Damn it, Natasha still wasn’t over her crush, was she? She pushed that down, though.

Instead, she opted to focus on something else. What was Y/N was doing there, stiffly sitting off to herself as her eyes were glued to her phone? She was dating Steve. Could it be possible that he was just in the bathroom? But Natasha doubted he’d take her to a bar for any date, much less Valentine’s Day. He would take her out to an expensive, fine-dining restaurant.

Gaining a new purpose, Natasha tightened her grip on her glass and made a beeline for Y/N. She never looked up from her phone, where Natasha noticed that she was quickly typing away to someone. “Y/N?” She asked, switching to hold the glass in her left hand and resting her right hand on the back of Y/N’s chair.

Y/N immediately looked up, her eyes widening when she saw Natasha. She quickly set her phone down and donned a strained smile. “Tasha! What are you doing here?” She asked.

One didn’t have to be a spy to spot that Y/N was forcing over-the-top excitement. Natasha decided to let her get away with it, for now. She was too distracted by the smell of Y/N’s perfume to say anything about it, anyway. God, that smell had to be heaven in a bottle. Natasha recalled the first time Y/N wore that perfume, when she came into work one day. It was the day Natasha realized that she had feelings for her, but promised herself she wouldn’t act on them when Y/N and Steve got together.

“I could ask you the same question,” Natasha replied slyly, flashing Y/N a smile as she leaned her elbow on the table. Y/N reciprocated the smile, but in a knowing, sarcastic way. She leaned back against the chair, and against Natasha’s arm, as her smile lost its glee and her eyes flickered to rest on the ground.

“Steve wanted to train tonight. I asked him why it couldn’t be any other night, and he sort of brushed me off. Almost sounded like a Captain rather than my boyfriend. He insisted that this is what he needed and that we could celebrate another day, like tomorrow,” she began to explain, taking a breath before continuing. “Later I went to give him a Valentine’s Day card, but I saw him looking at pictures of him and Peggy. He was smiling . . . He looked so happy. Much happier than he’s been with me lately.”

Natasha felt a heat rise up in her, her glass threatening to shatter under her hold. More than ever she wanted to walk straight back into the tower and knock some sense into him. Blowing his girlfriend off on Valentine’s Day, postponing it with no other plan set in stone, and looking at pictures of his ex? What was he thinking? Not to mention, making his girlfriend feel like crap and not doing anything about it.

But one look at Y/N and all that dissipated. Her head was ducked, hands fiddling in her lap. Some hair had fallen into her face, and Natasha tucked it behind her hair, getting Y/N to smile.

“I’m sorry,” Natasha apologized, after letting out a long breath. “You don’t deserve that.” The words felt lame now that they had left her mouth. So obvious and cliche. She should have said more. She wanted to, but she knew if she had really let it all out, she’d hurt Steve and Y/N’s relationship more than help it.

Y/N shrugged, lifting her head. A passive look was on her face, as if it was as inconvenient as swatting a fly away. She reached out for her own glass which sat on the table and took a small sip. “It’s okay, I just wanted to get my mind off it here. Besides, he’s done this before,” she brushed it away nonchalantly.

Natasha furrowed her eyebrows, unwilling to let this slide. “What do you mean?” She questioned, but softened her look when she realized she sounded interrogating.

With a slight tilt of her head and a tiny sigh, Y/N answered: “Last week he cancelled our date because he promised to go on a run with Sam. He said he’d make up for it but then he had a meeting with Fury. I mean, I understand that he’s an Avenger and all, believe me. It’s just . . . When he’s with me he’s still a Captain. He’s still an agent, a soldier. He treats me like I’m a coworker. I can’t remember the last time we cuddled or did something truly romantic.”

All Natasha could do to keep from running her mouth was bite her bottom lip sharply. She forced a sad smile on her face, and because of her skills, it seemed genuine. “Have you tried talking to him about this?” She asked, shifting her weight from foot-to-foot uncomfortably. Playing couple counselor for your secret crush and friend? No thank you.

Y/N nodded. “Yeah, but we always end up arguing about it. Then, the arguing becomes about something else, and we go in a circle. I’ve tried to not argue with him, but I can’t talk to someone who doesn’t want to talk themselves,” she answered, pretty defeated and tired.

Seeing in the sadness in her eyes finally broke the dam inside Natasha. She knew she could and would treat Y/N better. She didn’t deserve Steve. “Well, I think I’d be a better boyfriend than him,” she admitted, wearing a smirk.

Almost immediately after those words left her lips, she mentally facepalmed. What was she thinking?! Was she trying to break up Steve and Y/N right now? That was definitely not what she deserved. The redhead was about to rush out an apology when Y/N responded, not seeming offended by this comment in the least.

“Yeah, I reckon you would be,” she agreed, sharing the smirk.

Oh, how Natasha loved to see her happy. “Yeah?” She said, trying to play this off as if she was continuing a meaningless joke.

What she didn’t know is that Y/N wasn’t joking. “Yeah,” she confirmed, her tone growing serious as she nodded along to her words.

Natasha blinked, not expecting this. But she couldn’t deny that part of her was happy. After a moment’s hesitation, she asked, “Do you mean this?” Her voice was rock solid.

Y/N nodded again, the sadness completely gone from her face. She was determined. She was certain. “When I first got feelings for you, I realize now, I had ignored it because I was with Steve. I convinced myself it was nothing. But after everything that happened, with you here now, I can’t ignore it anymore,” she admitted.

Natasha didn’t bother trying to hide her grin as she watched Y/N rise from her chair. She took a couple steps back to give her some space and thought. Was this really the right path to walk on? Wouldn’t Y/N still be upset about losing Steve nonetheless? “Are you sure you want me to break your heart?” She asked cautiously, but adding some tension-breaking humor into it. That was Natasha’s style, after-all.

“Yes, please. Break my heart,” Y/N said firmly.

Their faces were inches away from each other when Y/N suddenly paused. Their eyes met, holding a loving and caring gaze. “But do it in a day or two. I don’t want to become a cheater,” she said with a little bit of disappointment.

Natasha knew she should be frowning, but she couldn’t bring herself to. God. This is one of the things that made her fall for Y/N: her ability to still hold care in her heart for a guy who left her alone on Valentine’s Day. It made her real. It made her her. Natasha admired her strength.

“And you won’t have to become one,” Natasha assured her.

Their gaze did not break, both of them too invested in the beauty of the other’s eyes. “Thanks for turning around my Valentine’s Day,” Y/N said, marveling how such a bad night could end up being the one to change her future.

Permanent Taglist: @natasharomanoffismywife @hehehehannahthings@paulawand @blackbat2020 @cerberus-spectre @marrymemcgraph @kathryndimitrescu @snipyloulou​ @big-galaxy-chaos @cc13723things​  @passionswift @drayshadow @amaryllis23

MCU Taglist: @stephanieromanoff @summerlovingbaby @ineffablebean@okkulta @procrastinatingsapphictrash @prettysbliss @caseyfish-blog@sarahp-stan @thewidowsghost @basiclesbianbitch @mycosmicparadise@kidswhofightmonsters @xtraordinaryfangrl @peggycarter-steverogers@username23345 @ima-gi--na-tion​ @hi-i-1 @mmmmokdok@xxxtwilightaxelxxx @mads-weasley @tenaciousperfectionunknown @afraid-to-be-me @lilclownx @acertainredhead @natromanoffxox @lilymurphy03@thanossexual @avengersz-biotch @kozumekoi @mjaudrey @un-name-d@leyannrae @buckyandstevesbitch @kuzomekou-blog @nylevea@suckerfornatstits @bentleywolf29  @bunnyweasley23 @ss @pianogirl2121 @@beth-gallagher22 @pleasantbearscissorstoad @marvelwomen-simp​

#natasha romanoff x reader #natasha romanoff x you #natasha romanoff fluff #natasha romanoff reader insert #natasha romanoff imagine #natasha romanoff fic #natasha romanoff fanfic #natasha romanoff #black widow x reader #black widow x y/n #black widow imagine #black widow mcu #black widow fic #black widow reader insert #black widow fluff #black widow fanfiction #black widow #marvel self insert #marvel reader insert #valentine’s day #marvel fanfiction #marvel fluff #marvel fic #marvel imagine #marvel #marvel x reader #marvel x you #marvel x y/n

[fairyofjaeyun]

m t i ➳ tall beauty ☾

[16:48] now playing: I think - tyler, the creator

[warning] size kink, hand kink, finger sucking, pegging, wall sex, mommy kink, some brief aftercare, tall!reader x foreigner!taeil, neighbor au, america au, (ft. doyoung and mysterious member of wayv 😉) speech in italics are in korean

2nd person // 3.9k words

[a/n] this is mostly fluff and suggestive content more than smut but I'm satisfied because there is clearly not enough sub!taeil and sub!taeil is not to be under appreciated. also I’m sorry this took forever for me to post I hope you enjoy ♡

⁺˚*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚⁺‧͙⁺˚*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚⁺‧͙⁺˚*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚⁺‧͙ ⁺˚*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚⁺‧͙⁺˚*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚⁺‧͙⁺˚*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚⁺‧͙

after a lengthy morning of hard labor, you plopped down onto the sun baked curb, wiping away your forehead sweat with the back of your hand before taking a swig of your ice cold glass of coca cola. you always preferred the glass bottle over the cans for aesthetic purposes, but on hot days like these they're extra refreshing. even with the occasional wasp buzzing around and forcing you to freeze with terror to prevent a nasty sting.

you took a gander at your surroundings, trying to get used to your new environment. you were right in the middle of the block, but not crowded. each house had a good amount of space in between them, either filled with trees or gardens, or a collection of tiny bikes overlapping each other. it gave everyone room to breath. furthermore, each house had its own unique qualities, whether it was the amount of stories, the colorful paint, or the type of outdoor decorations surrounding it. it was much more refreshing than a bland copied and pasted neighborhood, it felt more like home.

a door softly squeaked from a distance, some wind chimes singing shortly afterwards. you stared straight ahead, at nothing in particular, trying to soak up as much of the gentle breeze as you could before an awkward yet friendly face appeared. "hello." it said with a short, ungraceful wave. out of your peripheral, you saw light washed jeans folded and tucked into some scuffed converse, before looking up and meeting the blonde boy.

he was on the shorter side with thick legs and his hair styled into a subtle mullet, looking straight out of a punk band with his blue flannel. "hey!" you greeted him, eager for a new friend or at least an acquaintance. "new?" he pointed at you with his little index finger, his tone laced with curiosity. it took you a moment to fathom his question, furrowing your brows before exclaiming, "oh! yes, I'm new." you giggled at your ditziness, lifting yourself to your feet during the process.

the man's mouth dropped as your long legs unfolded from their sitting position, you were at least 5 inches taller than him, the top of his head stood just beneath your nose. although, you didn't bat a single eye because you were used to towering over people, but taeil began to look extra stiff. nonchalantly, you held out your hand. "I'm y/n." he looked at your big hand and long fingers before giving you his, "my name is taeil. I'm from korea."

his short sentences began to make sense once he stated his nationality, and you were immediately fascinated. "oh, cool! what's it like? what city did you live in? how long did you live there?" you peppered taeil with questions, assuming he was from south korea instead of north. he chuckled that awkward chuckle again, slightly overwhelmed by your quick questions. "do you know han river?" he asked once he grasped your words.

you nodded, recalling the tourist attraction from the few kdramas you've watched in the past. "yeah, it's in seoul." you answered, making taeil smile proudly and point to himself. "yes, I'm from seoul." you noticed the sweat that began gathering on his face, knowing he must be hot with those long sleeves. "would you like to come in for a coke?" you offered, raising your half empty glass and gesturing it towards your new house because he seemed harmless. besides, if he were to act up, all you needed to do was give a swift kick to his lower calves and he'd going falling backwards. works every time.

"sure." he agreed with a smile that seemed to light up his face more than the hot july sun that was beating down on the both of you. he followed you like a stray puppy, taking in the small details of your front lawn. he's strolled past this house plenty of times, but not once saw the little sheep curled up below the porch guarded by two green pinwheels that gently swayed with the subtle breeze, and once he climbed up the steps and saw a box with Yard Decorations written with a slightly dried out sharpie, he smiled. "cute." he cooed to himself in his native language.

the cool air from the a/c was like a slap to the face, but a welcomed one. the sweat immediately began to freeze up on taeil's face as he trailed behind you. "sorry about the mess," you apologized, tiptoeing past boxes and shoving some to the side with your feet. "it's okay." he assured, remembering all the music equipment he had to haul across the world that took forever to set up and cluttered his space.

but just when you thought both of you would safely make it to your kitchen, a deep thud! made you whip your head around to see taeil hopping on one foot. "oh, box! bad box!" he scolded the piece of cardboard filled with kitchenware then hissed as the pain shot up his toe. "oh my gosh, are you okay?! I'm so sorry!" you said frantically, rushing over to him. he puts his little hand up, "don't worry, I'm okay." he says, even though he's somewhat hobbling.

he didn't even give you a chance to question his certainty before he dragged himself into your kitchen, again being curious of your stuff. "real?" he pointed to the succulents on the window ceil that hung above the sink, right next to your crystals. you followed his finger and shook your head, smiling. "no, they're fake. I'm a terrible plant mom." a quick recap of all the plants you've killed and pots you've broken played in your head before you remembered the reason you invited him in your home.

"where are my manners?" you pulled open your freezer and grabbed him a coke, the frost that coated the glass bottle melting beneath your fingers and numbing them. taeil took it from you with a big grin, "thank you, y/n." you laughed, secretly loving the way he said your name with that adorable accent of his. "you're welcome, taeil." you said as he brought the bottle up to his lips, and that feeling became mutual. he took long gulps, the feeling of the frosty liquid running down his throat and cooling his chest making him shut his eyes.

he finished with a satisfied exhale, giggling afterwards. "wow, you were thirsty." you said, knowing exactly what was coming next. soon enough, his hand was on his chest and a sudden burp came flying out his mouth, his hand instantly covering his lips. "oh! sorry, sorry!" he exclaimed, his face redder than it was outside. "well, excuse you." you said through laughter.

the two of you stood there for a moment, in a strange silence, exchanging glances and then your eyes immediately wandering somewhere else as the sounds of summer poured through the crack of your window. "y/n?" taeil spoke up, making your eyes lift from your shoes back to his face, which has regained its natural color. "will you be my friend?" he asks with stars in his eyes. his question caught you off guard, a giggle suddenly making your hand cover your teeth out of habit. it was so innocent, he looked so innocent.

you gave him a warm smile. one so big that you could see your cheeks peeking through the bottom of your vision as tried to hold back your giddiness. "of course I'll be your friend, taeil."

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

it had been four months since you moved in, and taeil warmed up to you nicely. he was no longer self conscious about his limited english or silly personality and joked with you constantly, eventually getting comfortable enough to suggest the nicknames tall beauty and small cutie. over the summer is when you got to know more about each other. you found out he had a roommate named doyoung, who was also from korea, and they both attended the university just down the street and majored in music.

"people are mean, sometimes." he revealed when explaining the hardships he had as a foreigner. he felt out of place, and in some places, unwanted. which is why taeil and doyoung settled for a house instead of living on campus. they hadn't known each other beforehand, but they were grateful for one another. they both helped each other make america feel like home. they could relate in terms of their love for music, their culture, and their struggles. "you're not mean." taeil said afterwards, his small little frown that dulled his eyes instantly leaving and being replaced with a toothy grin. "you're nice."

eventually, you got to meet doyoung. he was tall, lanky, and very soft spoken, but feisty when necessary. his english was more advanced than taeil's, so he was the one that ordered all the take out and answered the door while taeil scurried off somewhere out of sight. doyoung also strangely resembled a bunny, from the shape of his face, his gummy smile, and the way he ate was very rabbit-like.

sometimes on the weekend or mornings when taeil didn't go to university, you could hear him on his front porch strumming his guitar, occasionally accompanied by doyoung, harmonizing with each other and sounding like actual angels. some days, he caught you staring, giving you a shy grin before singing or playing loud enough for you to hear, and you'd clap at the end of his performance. other days, you went unnoticed and you had the privilege to see his mind wander and take in the beautiful scenery.

today, he was coming over today to celebrate the end of his fall classes. the two of you would order fast food (maybe pizza—or pi-jja as taeil pronounced it) watch movies, play games, makes jokes, the usual. that was the plan, anyway. taeil appeared at your door a quarter after 4, while you were upstairs putting together your most comfy pajamas. "IT'S TAEIL TIME!" he yelled with open arms as he entered, taking off his shoes and placing them on the shoe rack next yours. you ran down the stairs to give him a hug, which taeil was not expecting so he stumbled backwards a little bit before lightly wrapping his arms around you.

you rubbed the fluffy material of his pajamas that were decorated with owl faces, starting feel warm as you squeezed him tighter, making him grunt. you pull away and noticed the grocery bag swinging beneath his arm. "what's that?" you asked him, pointing. he lifts the bag towards his head, his arms parallel to each other. "ice cream!" he beamed, wiggling his fingers. "yummy! I'll put it in the freezer for later." you took the bag from him, unintentionally brushing your fingers against his.

"make yourself comfortable, I already got the living room set up." you motioned towards the living room, which was modified with blankets, pillows, snacks, and slippers just like you promised. he skipped towards the couch while you stored the ice cream cones in the freezer, peeling off his socks so he could wear the slippers. "I'll pick movie!" he shouted, grabbing the remote and getting in a comfy position.

taeil picked toy story 3 after some scrolling through disney+ for awhile. it wasn't until the part where woody returns to the daycare to save his fellow toy friends when you suggested that he should stay the night. he didn't hesitate to say yes, even though he's never been at your house any later than 10 pm, but neither of had secret intentions at that time. neither of you knew what was coming.

after the end credits rolled and the food was long gone, you opened your arms and stretched, curving your back along the couch while you groaned. "what's next?" you asked, referring to the next movie. taeil swiped his hand along the couch until his fingers grasped the tiny black remote that just loved getting sucked between the cushions. he handed it you, "you pick." you took it, gently grazing his fingers with yours like earlier. taeil made a small noise that sounded like a mix of pain and discomfort. "are you okay? did I scratch you?" you said, alarmed.

he shook his head, eyes wide as the owls on his fluffy pajamas. "no, no, no. cramp." he lied, rubbing his calf to trick you, but the raise of your eyebrow told him that you were suspicious. "okayyyy..." you dragged out, choosing to let it slide. "well, then can you go up in my room and grab my old thrasher hoodie? it should be hanging on one of the doorknobs." you asked, you were starting to feel the december breeze creeping up on you.

taeil happily obliged, springing up to his feet and shooting you two finger guns. "you got it!" he winked before trotting up the steps. he's never been in your room, he only saw what it looked like from the doorframe after you decorated it, but he knew exactly which hoodie you were talking about. if you were correct about the whereabouts of the old mangy hoodie, he'd be in and out in a flash.

however, you were wrong. it wasn't on any doorknob as far as his eye could see. "oh man," he thought out loud. "where is it?" he saw your clothing rack and immediately crossed that off the list of where it could possibly be hiding since you only displayed the most trendy and stylish clothing on there, along with some of your shoes. he checked the closet, but only found more fashion, dirty laundry, and a couple of hats.

his only option left was your dresser, which was tucked towards the corner of your room. that's where you kept your casual clothing and undergarments. taeil obviously skipped the underwear and looked through the clothing, carefully and neatly placing the items back the way they were. but nothing in the world could've prepared him for what was in the bottom drawer.

first, they were four sets of rope in four different colors—black, red, pink, and a soft lavender—that perfectly filled the space of the drawer. taeil wasn't quick to make assumptions and thought nothing of it. it wasn't until he removed the shibari that he felt like he was violating your privacy. underneath the bondage were expensive sets of lingerie, none of them anything like the other, and a collection of various items next to them, including a neat row of collars either decorated with spikes, flowers, or pendants.

taeil couldn't look away nor keep his hands to himself. he went for one of the collars that was placed right in the middle, a black leather one with a circular pendant that said Mommy's Slut. "slut?" he whispered to himself. he's heard that word being tossed around at campus and in the american movies he's watched, and thought he had a good understanding of what it meant. he knew that it was bad and mean, but some people liked it. so his question was: did you like it?

the next item to catch his eye was a thick stack of small polaroids that were tied together with a cheap rubber band. the first polaroid had a body, specifically a man's naked upper frame, covered with hickeys and scratch marks. his neck was hidden beneath the tacky rubber band, and his face was cut off from the picture, only his lips and jawline visible. taeil's curiosity was eating him up, and his hands seemed to have a mind of their own as he plucked the rubber band and looked through the rest of the photos.

meanwhile, you began wondering what was taking him so long as you rolled up the last greasy paper bag and tossed it in the trash. he shouldn't be taking this long just to grab a hoodie. but then you realized your hoodie was in your laundry basket, waiting to be washed, not hanging on any doorknob. "awe, shit!" you cussed, getting a good idea of what he was doing, and made your way up the steps.

however, you didn't call him. looking back, you questioned why you didn't just yell his name from the bottom of the stairs, or while heading towards your room. but perhaps if you didn't decide to sneak around, you wouldn't have caught him admiring one of your polaroids of your ex-friend-with-benefits. it was one of the few pictures that actually featured you, the boy was kneeling down in front of you, half his face pressed into your thigh, his platinum hair messy enough to see his thick eyebrows and pleading eyes asking for what was beneath your panties.

taeil wasn't looking at him, however. he was looking at your hands clutching the side of his face, two of your fingers entangled into his hair. they were almost as big as the man's face. he knew they were yours, and now he knew what kind of role you liked to play in the bedroom. porn wasn't very popular in korea. in fact, taeil watched his first adult film in years not long after settling in states. but doyoung had once brought up a spicy date he had with a girl back in seoul, he had called her a dominatrix.

"EXCUSE ME!" you said, abruptly from behind him. making the pictures go flying out of taeil's hands, just as you expected. but what you didn't expect was for him to turn around on his knees and lean forward until his forehead touched the floor. "I'm sorry, I'm sorry!" he apologized, his voice slightly muffled by the carpet. you knew bowing was apart of his culture. however, after seeing him look through your stuff, you were easily sent to domspace because of his position.

"what were you doing?" you questioned him. he looked up at you, like a puppy looking up at its scolding master. you could picture little folded, golden puppy ears on his head perfectly. "I'm sorry," he echoed. he'd be reluctant to admit it, but he loved the view he had of you standing tall above him. you looked like an ethereal being. "stand up." you demanded, and he was quick to follow, not wanted to upset you any further. who knows what you were capable of.

"why were you looking through my stuff? like, REALLY looking at my stuff? do you not know anything about privacy?" taeil stammered at your interrogating, struggling to interpret your words as you walked towards him. at this point, he was too ashamed to look at you, he shuffled towards the wall perpendicular to one the dresser stood against, trapping himself. "because..." he eventually squeaked, daring enough to stare into your skeptical eyes. your right eyebrow raised as you waited for his reasoning. "because I like you, y/n."

your eyes softened instantly, going wide momentarily before your mouth gaped. it wasn't as surprising as your facial expression made it out to be, in the back of your mind, you always knew. the apples of his cheeks were always glowing a specific shade too deep to just be his usual awkwardness. you were just in denial. how could such a sweet, talented boy like taeil fall for the younger girl who moped around her house, stuffing her face while watching tv, instead of contributing to society the way her parents wanted her to?

you stammered for a moment, trying to process everything. "I like you too, taeil." you admit, feeling a huge weight lifting off your chest, and in the most purest way possible, taeil lights up. his eyes glimmering and his smile as radiant as ever. "really?!" he says in his cute accent; reolly. you didn't need to answer, your eyes held the confirmation and granted him the permission he needed to grab your shoulders and get on his tippy toes to kiss your lips.

your first instinct was to push him off and take couple steps back out of fear, but you melted into him, into those soft lips moisturized by some holy grail korean beauty product that smelled like strawberries, into his tiny frame that was perfect to cling onto. he pulled away, a shy toothy grin on his sun kissed face. "I want you. please be mine?" he asked, every ounce of hope sparkling and dancing in his eyes.

"how can I say no when you look at me like that?" you embraced him, tighter this time, practically squishing your breasts against his face. taeil let out an exhale of joy as he silently melted into them, wrapping his arms around your waist. you tapped your finger beneath his chin and he looked up you, getting the message as you closed your eyes and tilted your head for another kiss, stepping all over the scattered piles of polaroids as you continued to hold each other for the rest of the night.

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

taeil's figure was gorgeous. the arched position he was in displayed every inch of his curves, thanks from the help of doyoung. from his perfectly proportional shoulders, subtle hourglass waist, and his delicious thighs that supported his juicy ass. the fat in all the right places rippled in small waves as you pounded into him, creating the infamous sound of skin lewdly slapping against each other, filling up the space of your room.

his lips were still moist from sucking on your fingers. he took them nice and deep as he looked up at you through his dainty eyelashes, on his knees like he was instructed to do. your other hand raking through his now chestnut brown hair, making him moan and groan against your digits. "awe, you look so small. are you my small baby, hm? my small cutie?" you cooed like he was your pet; your tiny puppy. taeil nodded, preciously, his eyes big and vibrant. he hummed a tiny "mm-hmm" against your skin.

now you were stretching him out, mercilessly thrusting the realistic dildo into a sensitive place that made him cry and whimper for more. "oh mommy, more! I want more! please, please, please!" he rambled into the dry wall, his forearm folded over his eyes. "sweetie, I'm already going as hard as I can, and your body is being thrown around like a rag doll." you chuckled, tightening your hold on his hips. you were right, the amount of force you put into your thrusts made taeil's body rock back and forth almost violently.

"if only you could see how much your cute ass is jiggling for me." you growled, giving a heavy handed smack to one of his ass cheeks, making him yelp and jolt forward even more. "fuck!" he cursed through his teeth. then, you pulled his arm away from his eyes, engulfing the lower half of his face with your ginormous hands. the rest of his moans and korean mumbling were muffled behind your palm as he was reaching his high, parting his lips for one final groan before spurts of white start dripping onto the floor and on taeil's thigh.

you continued your thrusts, gradually slowing down, until his breathing regained stability. "you okay." you glide your hands up and down his waist, soothingly. his skin was slightly sticky from his sweat. "don't worry, I'm okay." he assured you, giggling at the end. you leaned over and hugged his naked frame, planting a kiss behind his ear. "good. can't have my small cutie hurting." you gave him another kiss, then led him to the bathroom to wash up.

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