#i thought of so many people to tag but i had to cut myself off somewhere

[inkskinned]

crows use tools and like to slide down snowy hills. today we saw a goose with a hurt foot who was kept safe by his flock - before taking off, they waited for him to catch up. there are colors only butterflies see. reindeer are matriarchical. cows have best friends and 4 stomachs and like jazz music. i watched a video recently of an octopus making himself a door out of a coconut shell.

i am a little soft, okay. but sometimes i can't talk either. the world is like fractal light to me, and passes through my skin in tendrils. i feel certain small things like a catapult; i skirt around the big things and somehow arrive in crisis without ever realizing i'm in pain.

in 5th grade we read The Curious Incident of the Dog In The Night-time, which is about a young autistic boy. it is how they introduced us to empathy about neurotypes, which was well-timed: around 10 years old was when i started having my life fully ruined by symptoms. people started noticing.

i wonder if birds can tell if another bird is odd. like the phrase odd duck. i have to believe that all odd ducks are still very much loved by the other normal ducks. i have to believe that, or i will cry.

i remember my 5th grade teacher holding the curious incident up, dazzled by the language written by someone who is neurotypical. my teacher said: "sometimes i want to cut open their mind to know exactly how autistics are thinking. it's just so different! they must see the world so strangely!" later, at 22, in my education classes, we were taught to say a person with autism or a person on the spectrum or neurodivergent. i actually personally kind of like person-first language - it implies the other person is trying to protect me from myself. i know they had to teach themselves that pattern of speech, is all, and it shows they're at least trying. and i was a person first, even if i wasn't good at it.

plants learn information. they must encode data somehow, but where would they store it? when you cut open a sapling, you cannot find the how they think - if they "think" at all. they learn, but do not think. i want to paint that process - i think it would be mostly purple and blue.

the book was not about me, it was about a young boy. his life was patterned into a different set of categories. he did not cry about the tag on his shirt. i remember reading it and saying to myself: i am wrong, and broken, but it isn't in this way. something else is wrong with me instead. later, in that same person-first education class, my teacher would bring up the curious incident and mention that it is now widely panned as being inaccurate and stereotypical. she frowned and said we might not know how a person with autism thinks, but it is unlikely to be expressed in that way. this book was written with the best intentions by a special-ed teacher, but there's some debate as to if somebody who was on the spectrum would be even able to write something like this.

we might not understand it, but crows and ravens have developed their own language. this is also true of whales, dolphins, and many other species. i do not know how a crow thinks, but we do know they can problem solve. (is "thinking" equal to "problem solving"? or is "thinking" data processing? data management?) i do not know how my dog thinks, either, but we "talk" all the same - i know what he is asking for, even if he only asks once.

i am not a dolphin or reindeer or a dog in the nighttime, but i am an odd duck. in the ugly duckling, she grows up and comes home and is beautiful and finds her soulmate. all that ugliness she experienced lives in downy feathers inside of her, staining everything a muted grey. she is beautiful eventually, though, so she is loved. they do not want to cut her open to see how she thinks.

a while ago i got into an argument with a classmate about that weird sia music video about autism. my classmate said she thought it was good to raise awareness. i told her they should have just hired someone else to do it. she said it's not fair to an autistic person to expect them to be able to handle that kind of a thing.

today i saw a goose, and he was limping. i want to be loved like a flock loves a wounded creature: the phrase taken under a wing. which is to say i have always known i am not normal. desperate, mewling - i want to be loved beyond words.

loved beyond thinking.

#spilled ink #writeblr #personal #please don't ask me to talk on my experience on the spectrum lol. i hate how ppl talk to me about it #i really try not to write so specifically about it #bc inevitably someone talks to me like im a child #i think this is the first time i've ever openly identified with it but i've been hinting for years #i might delete this. feels big. #the thing is that being on the spectrum actually IS a spectrum #and if u say ur autistic #inevitably someone makes an assumption about ur needs/symptoms #please do not treat me differently than u usually would. like.... we can tell when you do #and like i mention. i do appreciate the effort. i do truly appreciate the effort. #but it still feels like... #when i was blind. sometimes people kind of did the same-ish thing. #they'd find out i was blind and start talking really loudly? #and while i KNOW they're just trying to help. it would be like. i'd be trying to find #the right way into a building (sometimes only 1 door is unlocked and i couldn't see the signs posted about where to go) #and ppl would be like ''OH UR BLIND? YES SO THIS IS A DOOR. IT OPENS INTO THE BUILDING. IT IS LOCKED NOW." #''A DOOR CAN BE FOUND IN MANY LOCATIONS.'' #and it feels like. when i admit to being autistic #someone comes screeching into my life being like THIS IS A DOOR.

[fbfh]

makey makeover - rodrick x hyperfeminine reader

wc: 1.5k

pairing: rodrick x gn hyperfeminine!reader

warnings: rodrick isn't used to being taken care of but only briefly mentioned at the end, rodrick does not know what hyaluronic acid is

summary: rodrick can never say no to you, but if it means having you straddle his lap while you use all your skincare products on him and listen to music together, he wouldn't want to say no anyway.

song recs: makey makeover - crazy ex girlfriend cast, jesus of suburbia - green day, perfect day - hoku

a/n: I started writing a kids book yesterday?? like I finished the first chapter and outline in one sitting???? it wasn't at all planned but when the muse strikes yk. Anyway I don't think it will take me as long to write so if you wanna read a chapter book about magic and girlhood and unicorns and other mythical creatures with bella sara vibes that's probs gonna be ready reasonably soon lol

tags: @yesv01 @magcon7280 @dustyinkpages @the-snake-pit @kiara7777 @inthehoneymoonwithconnorrk800 @followingthefanfiction @2220825 @Maggzsworld @xiaos_crustytoenails @ionlymadethisaccountbcihadto @strawberryjen124 @Isaentremundos @hxnbah

Rodrick likes to think he's a pretty tough guy. Between being born and raised on the rebellious messages of pop punk music, and the nonconforming ideologies of emo and other alt subcultures, Rodrick knows in his bones that he'll never let the man break his spirit. He'll never bow down to someone just because they want him to do something. He's had countless opportunities to stand by these beliefs at school and at home, and he has never - not once - come close to doing anything for someone simply because they want him to. Rodrick has been confident in his ability to never give into other people’s orders, no matter how much they demand of him. 

Until now.

“Pretty please, Roddy…?” You pout your glossy lips at him, blinking up at him and batting your doll like eyelashes, and that’s all it takes to make him fold.

“...I guess, if you really-” He’s cut off by an excited squeal from you, and he’s glad that you’re too distracted to notice him blush. Rodrick has never felt his willpower give in so fast, but as he watches you rush around your room and smile, delighted that he’d agreed, he realizes that he’d do pretty much anything you tell him too. Ben and Chris would call him a pussywhipped simp, but… no, that’s pretty much it. He chuckles a little at the thought, watching the pile of stuff grow. He recognizes nail polish and tweezers, but that’s about it.

“Thank you thank you thank you!” You say, rambling happily as you settle down on your bed across from him. “I’ve been wanting to do self care stuff but I’ve done so many everything showers and self care nights there’s nothing left for me to do on myself. But you…”

You take his face in your manicured hands, moving him around to inspect more closely.

“You are in serious need of a facial.”

Rodrick doesn’t really process what you’re saying, he just loves when you touch his face like that. 

“...Uh, yeah totally.” He mutters absentmindedly, distracted by your sweet smell. After a moment, he processes what you said, and chuckles, leaning back into your silky pink pillows. “Babe, you can do anything to me, anywhere, anytime.” 

You giggle, feeling your face flush a little as you get all your stuff organized. Rodrick runs his hands up and down your waist, fidgeting with your soft fluffy pajama shorts and big loded diper shirt you wear all the time. He sees the little burn marks and worn out hems and realizes it’s the one you stole from him. He smiles softly, loving the way you look in it even more now. His attention is pulled back to you when you push something over his face, brushing his hair back. You adjust the fluffy cat ears on the headband, making sure you have access to his whole face. Rodrick giggles a little, knowing he must look a little out of place wearing a pierce the veil shirt and fluffy kitty cat headband. 

“I don’t think my forehead has been this exposed since like, 4th grade…” he chuckles.

“That’s good, you’ll have less sun damage that way.” You smile, putting some micellar water on a cotton pad. It’s a little cold to the touch, but after a moment, the feeling of you gently wiping over his face and neck ends up being way more relaxing than he had expected it to. You throw it away, and he hears it land in your trash can with a crinkle. 

“I’m gonna mist your face now, okay?” You say, and he nods. You spray rose water on his face, and Rodrick can’t get over how considerate you are to give him a heads up like that. Rodrick smiles a little as he adjusts to the subtle floral smelling facial spray he’s used to smelling on you. He basks in the quietness of your room, opening his eyes as he watches you sitting on his stomach and looking for the next product. You hesitate for a moment. You feel like something’s missing, but you can’t put your finger on it.

“Oh,” you say, reaching for your phone as you remember. You open up Spotify, and put your favorite playlist on shuffle - the one you and Roddy share. It’s full of both your favorite songs, mostly boiling down to early 2000’s pop punk and trashy pop. It’s chaotic but really does suit you both perfectly.  Rodrick smiles suddenly as he instantly recognizes the opening notes of Jesus of Suburbia begin to play. You take out your favorite serum, jasmine and blackberry hydrating jelly, and place a few drops around his face. 

“What’s that one?” Rodrick asks, picking up another bottle. 

“Hyaluronic acid.”

Rodrick looks at the little dropper bottle.

“Does it, like, melt the flesh right off your bones?” 

“No…?” You chuckle, massaging his cheekbones and jawline with your fingertips.

“Then why is it called hydroponic acid?” He asks rhetorically, “Acid is supposed to melt shit.”

You laugh again, and he makes a mental note to sample your laughter for a song at some point in the future. He doesn’t know which one yet, but he knows it will be his best one yet. 

You rub some cooling aloe vera gel into his skin, then take out your rose quartz gua sha stone. You tap your fingertips against his chest, and he looks at you with an amused smile.

“What does that do?”

He watches you work, eyes locked on you. He can’t remember the last time he felt this relaxed and peaceful. 

“I’m prepping your lymphatic drainage system.” 

That clarified absolutely nothing for Rodrick, but he trusts you implicitly. You’re so good at so many things, but Christ, you could write a book on all that girly beauty stuff. It’s way more hardcore than people think it is. You know about all these acids and drainage systems and the pink rock thing, and even though he’s impressed, he’s not at all surprised by how good you are at all this stuff.

You begin gently gliding your gua sha over Roddy’s skin, working from his forehead down to his neck and jawline. He stops talking as you work, and it’s like you melt all of the stress out of his body through his face. He could fall asleep with you touching him so gently like this. After a while you rub some more cream into his face, then place something under his eyes that feels like thinly sliced jello.

“What the fuck?” He asks, bringing another laugh out of you. He watches you take two more of the weird jelly things and put them under your own eyes.

“They’re under eye masks.” You answer with a chuckle. “They hydrate your skin, depuff, and get rid of dark circles.”

“Huh…” he hums in response, playing with the patches as they sit on his face. 

Once you’ve used half your arsenal of skincare products on him, you peel off his sheet mask and let him sit up. You hand him a mirror, and as he sits up and stretches a little, kind of wishing you had more to do, he feels like he just woke up from the best sleep of his life. 

“So? What do you think?” You ask excitedly. He can’t help but crack a smile at how cute you are. Rodrick takes the mirror you offer him. When he sees his reflection, he almost doesn’t recognize himself. 

“Oh my god…” he says with a soft smile. He’s glowing. He doesn’t think he’s ever looked this soft and moisturized and… cared for before. He doesn’t even have any crusty eyeliner from yesterday smudged around his eyes. He can never get it off all the way, but one wave of your magic wand, and it’s gone. He laughs again, touching his cheek. He looks up at you in surprise.

“My face is so smooth…” “I know!” You exclaim in delight. “So, do you like facials after all?”

You have a feeling you already know the answer, but Rodrick looks up at you anyway.

“Yeah,” he states, pulling you in for a kiss, his lips soft and exfoliated, topped with your favorite strawberry lip balm. You think Rodrick is right, it does taste better in a kiss. After he pulls away, it takes him a minute for his brain to stop short circuiting. 

“So… uh, are we doing this again next weekend?” 

You laugh at his hopeful tone of voice, how he raises his eyebrows a little. 

“Yeah.” You nod, taking him in for another kiss. You take his hands in yours, looking at the stick and poke tattoo he got of the heart you drew on his hand in chemistry class, his little calluses from drumming. “Next week I can do something about your cuticles.”

#rodrick heffley #rodrick heffley x reader #rodrick #rodrick x reader #rodrick x hyperfeminine reader #hyperfeminine reader #diary of a wimpy kid #diary of a wimpy kid x reader #doawk #doawk x reader #yeah no idea where the book thing came from #i literally wasn't even a horse/unicorn kid growing up #i was more into faries #like i liked the horse girl aesthetic ig but i never really got into it #but it's fun #i almost accidentally named a character after a member of paramore so im glad i caught that lol #stay tuned

[kazehita]

hi! i noticed your recent post recommending the fic natural satellite and i think i've noticed other isat fics around your blog too. because of that, i was wondering if you had a list of recommended isat fics! i will admit i am not someone who just peruses around on ao3 but i love reading about these characters so if you have any recs, i would greatly appreciate them! thanks and i hope you have a lovely day :3

I love ALL isat fic - each and every one is so special and wonderful - but if I listed the whole archive that wouldn't really help huh... So! Im going to list just some off the top of my head., this is in no way definitive. Isat spoilers ahead - get all the way through the game and the secret before proceeding.

Big recommendation list below:

Additionally, mind the tags for each fic - I wont be specifying the content warnings here.

(don't just read the complete ones!!! Incomplete fic is just as delightful I promise :3)

Complete: Bloom - Level99Eevee Most people know it, it sits at the top of the tag! It's my every wish fulfilled for post-cannon moments.

Memories of defeat - dirtbagtrashcat Stuff in and immediately after the loops, fantastic extrapolations!!!! Very much Loop <33 I find this very grounded and realistic!!!!

Emotion Sickness - dirtbagtrashcat Post cannon fun/trauma with siffrin and the gang.

Memories of Touch - dirtbagtrashcat look i just really like their work sjkdjkfjkasdf its all good go through their profile. This is Isa thoughts.

And if I were not myself, would this be easier? - rabbit_soup Post-game! I love how they flesh out the world.

The Understudy - kittyorange Suuuuch a loop fic I love it to bits. Post cannon loop and the gang stuff.

Star-Speckled Skin - Lora_Blackmane Funn angsty moment, title is very descriptive. Lives in my head rent free.

Clinging to dying embers - Coffeewolf67 Odile's perspective of sif using the dagger. appropriate content warnings apply :)

between the end and a new start - glowingjellyfishtreelights SICKFICCC I had a very funny experience with this one where due to memory mishaps I got to read it for the first time twice! Absolute banger.

What's in a name? - Raaj Explores siffrins love of plays. I have to regularly reread this for my brain to function.

Starstruck - Dusk_Illusionist Isa yearns. The fic. It rocks.

Saturn Devouring His Son (Time Choking on Stone Choking on Blood)- BasilPaste Post cannon moment... I like it...

(Why) you can't let them know by Mayasynth sasasap fic!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! i like it. i hold it. i like it. UGH theres more but I have already listed so many.. my other favorites... im so sorry.,.. i love you guys too... Incomplete:

How To Rest by rabbit_soup Sequel to "And if i were not myself, would this be easier?" Loop is here and I love violence.

TRY IT AGAIN, CHEATER! by discatded "[Loop returns to their own universe after everything. It's hard.]" - from the summary. Love it love it. I will never get enough of this premise.

To Extend our Reach to the Stars Above by Cinnamin_Is_a_Star "Sif if he was team rocket" and is so fun. Very excited to see this one pan out!

until we move on. by Anonymous (also known as lozy) LOOP MY BELOVED..! loop returns to their universe and promptly looses it like the universe intended. Cant get enough of it.

Natural Satellite by dirtbagtrashcat If a single fic makes me the Most insane its natural satellite if I'm honest.... like bro... It just gets right to me...

Sunder by Miranda_tries_their_best Post-cannon Loop fic!! They travel on their own for a bit (but not forever), and I love it dearly.

Face the Light by Kaimiiru Post-game, I hold it close to my heart.... Ah... It's so dear to me.

These next two are sloop so if that's not your thing you have been warned :]

raconte-moi qu’on puisse crier tout bas by bibliomaniac I'm holding this high above my head so everyone can see it the characterization is off the charts.

To Cut You Open With a Knife and Find Your Sacred Heart by Hexea_Art Changeling Loop fic!! What a fun concept. I am excited to see where it goes. yay! AGAIN... THERE ARE SO MANY I LOVE SO MUCH but im forcing myself not to look through the tag else I'd add everything. Honestly, I do recommend just launching right on into the ao3 tag for ISAT even if you aren't super familiar with ao3. Just be sure to filter out anything you don't want to see!

Consider this a good starting point ^^

#asks #del-phi-nium #kaze speaks #isat spoilers #oh boy 12am /joke #uh i hope this is helpful. lemme know if any of these links are broken i didnt check any of them. #i think all these are viewable w/o an account also #if anyone finds this useful do let me know i'd love to hear #isat

[theorphicangel]

Oops hi hi this is my first times sending u a prompt. Can I have Levi with “wait, you think i’m cute?” prompt?

hi hi, thank you so much for sending in a prompt! hope you like it hehe :)

summary: Levi picking you up after a long night out…

tags: drunk reader, mention of alcohol, fluffy

“Get in.”

His words were sharp, his tone of impatience more than evident to your ears. The passenger door to his car left wide open for you to climb in, his hand steadily holding the door for you. Your eyes lingered over his expression, tired and uninterested as always.

Clambering in, without any sort of balance you wonder if you had disturbed him from the quiet Friday night that he had planned. Before you had put on your seatbelt, you turned over to the passenger window, the door now shut and pulled a saddened face, waving to your friends who had stuck by you on the curb, waiting with you for Levi to pick you up.

Soon the driver’s side of the door suddenly opened and Levi climbed in, shutting the car door with a soft slam. Still waving, you miss his tut before he reaches over you, pulling over your seatbelt for you.

You’re taken by surprise when he pulls the leather material over you and your thoughts, a pool of warmth linger by your gut at his small touch, the alcohol not taking long to make you feel so touch starved.

Your boyfriend says nothing more to you before he adjusts his own seatbelt into place and starts the engine of the car. The car remains quiet between the two of you as you pull out into the main street of the bustling city, behind you can hear the noise of cars honking and right out of the window views of you can see groups of people heading for the clubs as they stumble over the crossings.

The car comes to a slow stop in front of a red light and Levi rests his head in the palm of his hand, his elbow raised on the car window. He hasn’t looked at you since, and after all these years you’ve known him you already know his answer but still ask anyway.

“Are you mad at me?” you question, your throat is raw and dry making your voice sound quiet. For a moment you think he didn’t hear you the first time and after a few seconds of re-building your confidence to try again, he cuts you off before your lips even part.

“What do you think?”

“Levi–”

“I specifically told you to be careful with how much you drink and you ignore me.”

“It was an accident!” You swore, “I–I just lost count of how many drinks Hange had given to me by then.”

He hums slowly in disbelief.

“Levi, I swear!”

The red light soon turns the green and the car inches forward slowly, picking up its speed as Levi travels down the main road. He continues to chastise you, keeping his eyes on the road.

“Now I have to drag myself out here to pick you up, all drunk and dirty.” He mutters, “And don’t try putting on that cute shit because m’ not in the mood.”

You sink back into your seat, mulling over his words melancholy until that one star phrase catches you off guard.

“Wait,” you say hesitantly, his words now setting into your mind, “You think I’m cute?”

“That’s not the point–”

“No, no, no, “ you lean over to him enthusiastically, “I want to hear more on that subject.”

“You’re drunk.”

“Barely. I have it all out of my system now that I’ve thrown up.”

“I’m not talking to you.” Levi murmurs, keeping his eyes on the road, the streetlights of the city illuminating his face each second before fading away into a shadow until the next one appears. Looking at him now, even in his angry state, you think he’s beautiful. From the arch of his brow, from the tip of his nose, to the plumpness of his soft lips that you like to kiss for hours on end. You’d like to call up his mother again and thank her for this creation.

“I think you’re cute too Levi, reallyyyy cute…” you mumbled.

He makes no reply, all too glad that it’s too dark in the car to see the tinge of pink that reaches his cheeks, stretching all the way to the tip of his ears.

Deep down, he knows that this certainly won’t be last time as this was definitely not the first. If anything it’s your sweet talking skills that manage to coax him out of his mood. For you right now? He’d let you get away with anything.

He’ll have to save his reprimand for tomorrow. Yeah…it can wait till tomorrow.

reblogs are much appreciated!!

#Angel writes #angel’s 500 event #levi ackerman x reader #levi ackerman #levi x reader #levi attack on titan #attack on titan #levi x you #aot x reader #snk levi

[bakuliwrites]

Ebb and Flow- Prince Sidon x Reader

Rating: 18+ (MINORS DNI)

Fandom: The Legend of Zelda

Relationship: Prince Sidon x Reader

Summary: “I will not accept that all we’re meant to be are star-crossed lovers,” Sidon states passionately, his tone filled with a steady resolve, “I cannot accept it. Was it not here that I pledged myself to you? And you to me? Was it not here that we promised our hearts to one another? Aren’t we more than just crossing tides?”Sidon is given earth shattering news. His duty as a Zora Prince outweighs all else. But how can he accept that when his love for you is so deep?

Tags: Female Reader, Smut, Angst, PIV, Semi-Public S*x, Outdoor S*x, Oral S*x, Shark Anatomy, Established Relationship, Star-crossed Lovers, Romance

Read here in this post or over on my AO3

DISCLAIMER: TOTK SPOILERS, 18+

Sidon wonders if he had spoken too softly. He expected some sort of reaction from you, even if it wasn’t a dramatic, soul-wrenching one. But your silence comes as a shock to him. Your unreadable gaze penetrates him from where you’re seated by the window in your quarters. Quarters he had specifically modified to house a Hylian such as yourself. Just for you. Fashioned to house you for what he thought would be forever. From the luxurious water bed on one side, where the two of you have shared so many passionate nights, to the cozy, crackling fireplace on the other- it’s all been for you, and him, and what he thought would be your future together.

“Y-you what?” you finally manage, confirming to Sidon that it wasn’t that you didn’t hear him, but that you couldn’t believe what he’d said. He hadn't wanted to tell you until he returned from his diplomatic mission, but he couldn't keep it a secret from you. Sidon's words stick to his throat. They feel barbed, razor-like, cutting his tongue on their way out.

“My father has decided- He’s arranged my marriage,” Sidon repeats, words seeping from his mouth like blood. But he tastes nothing when his tongue grazes over his lower lip, checking for a fresh wound. Still, he tastes metal, haunting and sharp. You’re bathed in moonlight, a silver gloss draping elegantly over your skin. Tonight, you appear to Sidon like an ethereal ghost, distant and untouchable, a curiously beautiful and captivating goddess. Like the moon delivered you to him and has come back this night to steal you away. 

“Not only has my father found who he considers to be a ‘suitable match’ for me, but he’s arranged the date of our meeting,” Sidon goes on, wanting to fill this deeply uncomfortable silence with something, anything, “Of our marriage.”

He trails off, glancing down at his feet and willing himself not to shed the tears that are stinging his eyes. He’s always known there was a risk that his marriage would be arranged. You aren’t Zora, you’re not royalty. It was a small chance that King Dorephan would even consider you in the running to marry Sidon. Your duty to Hyrule and Sidon’s duty to his people were always meant to clash. But he never thought it would be something to worry about this soon. His father’s decision to step down from the throne came as a shock, and the decision regarding Sidon’s marriage that much more shocking.

Your silence is killing him, gnawing at his insides, anxiety running rampant in his mind. Say something, anything. Please, he silently begs.

“When?” is all you’re able to question through your stupor. The look he gives you is grave, crestfallen.

“In less than a fortnight,” he almost whispers. He watches as your eyes fall slowly shut, as you clench your fists, your jaw. Every part of you tenses, but not out of anger. You take a deep breath and Sidon can tell you’re trying to hold in your tears. But when you exhale, they start to roll down your cheeks, dripping freely to the floor beneath. Droplets of pure moonlight shimmering as they fall. He rushes to you, scoops you into his arms, your small, Hylian form fitting so perfectly in his embrace. 

“I fought for us,” Sidon continues, as if he needs to prove to you that his love is genuine. As if you didn’t already know. Your shuddering sobs into his shoulder seem to shake the very foundation beneath you.  

“I fought so hard for us,” he whimpers, holding you closer, tighter, as if he were to let go, the moon would finally take you back to your celestial throne, “But my father wouldn’t agree. He wouldn’t- No matter how much I protested. How much I argued and debated-” 

“It’s okay,” you manage through tears, littering Sidon’s face with kisses, “I know you fought. I know you tried as hard as you could.”  

Sorrow blooms in every facet of your irises as you stare into Sidon’s gilded ones. If his heart hadn’t shattered in its entirety before, it certainly does now. He opens his mouth to say more, but he realizes he’s not even sure what he wants to say. He can’t reassure you. He can’t even reassure himself. 

A knock at your door pulls him begrudgingly from this private moment. An attendant calls out to him, "Your Highness, we should leave before it gets much later."

“They can wait,” Sidon speaks, turning back towards you, not wanting to leave you after such devastating news. You smile softly, shaking your head.

“No they can’t, my darling,” you gently return. He knows it, you know it. His royal duties, his people must always come first. You’ve never quibbled with him about this, something he deeply admires about you. 

Sidon presses a deep, lingering kiss to your lips. He can taste the salt of your tears, the salt of his own. He hadn’t even realized he’d shed any until the soft pads of your thumbs wipe them from his cheeks. He gazes at you underneath his furrowed brow, memorizing the features of your lovely face. If you dissolve into moonlight while he’s gone, he would never forgive himself for not kissing you one last time. 

“Wait for me,” he breathes when he pulls back, “We'll figure this- something out.” You nod, leaning your forehead against his and closing your eyes. Desperately, Sidon wishes he didn’t have to leave. Not in the middle of such an important conversation. 

“I should be no more than a few days,” he promises, giving you one final kiss before he wrenches himself from you and reluctantly slips out of your room. He doesn’t dare look back, knowing your melancholy gaze will destroy him if he does.

***

Sidon's diplomatic meeting with the Rito was a success, though it was mostly just a formality. The Zora and Rito are already on quite friendly terms, so he wasn't too concerned in the first place. The entire trip, however, his mind was preoccupied with you, with marriage, with grief. He's mulled over every possible solution. He contemplates further arguments with his father, knowing full-well that he won’t win them. But for you, it’s most certainly worth a try. He thinks about running away with you, eloping under the light of the moon, starting a new life on some remote island, far away from everything. But he knows he couldn’t leave his people behind, and he is certain that you won’t let him. Sidon could refuse to marry anyone at all, but that would mean he couldn’t be with you. But wouldn’t it be better to live his life alone if he can’t live it with you?

These thoughts swirl endlessly around his mind, a vortex of confusion and possibility. Nothing seems right. He loves you. No one else. He can’t imagine loving someone else. Or growing to love someone else. Up until now, Sidon has imagined spending the rest of his life with you. Of proposing marriage to you, in the customary Hylian fashion. Starting a family together, running the Zora kingdom together. Growing old with one another. Nights spent gazing up at the stars, held close in one another’s arms. Mornings waking up in your warm embrace. 

With his father’s decision, all hope Sidon had of making a life with you has been dashed. On his journey home, he tries to come up with some sort of solution, but as the Zora kingdom draws nearer and nearer, the Prince frustratingly comes up with nothing useful.

***

An attendant greets Sidon on the bridge leading into the palace, handing off a small slip of paper before dashing off again. The Prince unfolds the note, recognizing your handwriting immediately. “Meet me in our usual spot,” it reads, followed by a small heart and the first letter of your name. Sidon politely excuses himself from his fellow travelers and bolts off to meet you, hoping that you haven’t been waiting long for him.

By the time Sidon reaches Toto Lake, the moon is hovering high in the night sky, casting swathes of silver light across all of Hyrule. Its reflection wavers on the surface of the lake as Sidon’s keen eyes search for you. He spots you in the lake’s center, gliding through the water, every stroke disrupting the liquid mirror around you. The lake appears to envelope your form, encompassing you almost lovingly. Toto holds so many memories for Sidon. It’s where he sought solace after his sister’s passing. Where he found peace during the devastating years that Calamity Ganon reigned. The temperate waters have provided shelter in his most distressing times. It’s also where Sidon first pledged himself to you, promising his heart to you. And where you promised yours to him. A sacred, secret promise.

Sidon watches you for a moment. You cling to the crumbling ruins in the lake’s center, gazing up at the distant, twinkling stars above, not seeming to have noticed him yet. Crickets chirp in harmony with the nearby ribbits of hot-footed frogs, hiding stealthily amongst the scattered lily pads near the shore. Sidon wonders if this is the last time he’s ever going to see you, a thought that pierces his heart like a vicious barb. He can’t help but notice the pile of bags and personal items that you’ve left in the nearby clearing, like you’re prepared to travel a great distance.

Sidon is pulled from this painful thought when you wave to him, having finally noticed him lingering there. He waves back, somewhat apprehensive, but collects himself before diving into the lake. Sidon swiftly cuts through the water, desperate to reach you, the red of his fin cresting the surface of the lake. He wonders if he’ll reach you in time before the moon summons you home again. 

“My darling,” you exhale as he reaches you, pulling you into his embrace and holding you close. You cling to Sidon, the gentle thrum of your heart against his chest reinvigorating him after his long journey home. Why do you puzzle-piece so perfectly into his form? It seems like a cruel, cosmic joke that you would fit so neatly, so completely in Sidon’s arms. 

“You’re leaving?” he questions, pulling back to meet your sorrowful gaze. Gently, his large hand cups your cheek, one thumb smoothing over your soft skin. You lean your head to the side, letting your eyelids flutter shut as you press a tender kiss into the palm of his hand. 

“I must,” you state just barely above a whisper, a quiver in your voice that threatens to shatter Sidon’s already fragile calm, “I heard word around the palace that your bride-to-be arrives tomorrow.”

This is news to Sidon, news that washes waves of vertigo and anxiety over him. They threaten to drown him, pummel him into the silt and sand until he is nothing more than a smoothed over shell, tossed about in the surf. Sidon steadies himself, taking a deep breath, using your pleasant scent, your warmth as an anchor to this moment. Your cheeks are flushed and when you open your eyes once again, Sidon can tell that you’ve been crying, though you shed no tears in front of him. He wants to beg you to stay, to beseech the moon above and bargain that you might grace him just a little longer with your presence. What would it take for the heavenly bodies to allow you just a few hours longer with him?

“I will not accept that all we’re meant to be are star-crossed lovers,” Sidon states passionately, his tone filled with a steady resolve, “I cannot accept it. Was it not here that I pledged myself to you? And you to me? Was it not here that we promised our hearts to one another?” 

“Aren’t we more than just crossing tides?” he finishes. You contemplate this for a moment, before leaning your forehead against his. Beneath the cool sheen of water on your skin, Sidon feels the heat of your blood flowing strong through your veins. Your strength, your poise in this painful time serves as an example to him. He is always put together, always princely and regal. You let him fall apart, without judgement. Sidon can feel his composure fracture at your next words.  

“I think we come from the same ancient waters,” you begin, your hands coming to rest on either side of his face, “In some primordial sea, we rode the same tides. Perhaps someday, we shall again. But maybe this time around, we are only meant to flow together briefly, before we part.” 

“This cannot be,” Sidon whispers, voice wavering and tears beginning to roll down his cheekbones,“I feel your spirit ebb and flow inside of me. You inhabit me in a way that no one else ever has.” 

“I am with you, always. My soul is woven into every fiber of your being. And yours, mine,” you return, and with your exhale, warm tears flow from your bright eyes, “Sidon, I love you, body and soul.” 

He can take no more. Sidon crashes his lips into yours, feverish and desperate. You drape your arms over his shoulders, press yourself tightly to him. Perhaps the gracious moon will allow the two of you to merge, to live out the remainders of your lives as one being, one body, one soul. 

You wrap your legs around his waist, resting on his narrow hips while he grips your supple thighs. You’re bare to him already, your naked form bathed in silver moonlight. You are glorious, mesmerizing. A bright star, fallen to earth so that Sidon might marvel at your beauty, your mystery before you ascend to your place carved out in the heavens once again.

Sidon can feel his arousal growing as you palm his bulge, claspers pressing against his sheathe. Your warm tongue languidly explores his mouth, breath fanning softly against him. His hands smooth over your slick curves, worshipping every part of you. He commits the plushness of your body to memory, stores your soft moans and tiny gasps so that he might recall them later, in his loneliest hours. The way you breathe his name is holy and nearly brings him to his knees. 

“My darling, my pearl,” he whimpers pathetically as you trail kiss after searing kiss along his jawline and down his neck. Your teeth leave their bittersweet marks in his flesh, his talons dragging down your back, agonizing and delightful all at once. 

"I will bear your marks for all of time,” he announces, voice husky and low, “And know that I am yours, and you are mine."

“I am yours always. Sidon,” you coo, hand massaging torturously slow over his painful bulge, “In this lifetime, and the next. In all that we should ever exist in together. And even those that we do not.”

Sidon’s fingers tangle in the wet strands of your hair, tugging as he tilts your head so he can have better access to the tender spot of flesh behind your ear. He luxuriates in the lyrical moans that flutter from your lips as he nibbles and sucks at your sensitive skin. His warm tongue drags along your neck, goosebumps appearing in his wake. Your excitement fuels him, thrills him like nothing else does. His fingers find his way to your slick folds, running its length, dousing himself with you. 

He can’t contain himself any longer, his claspers freeing themselves from their sheathe. You're quick to grasp one, pumping slow and rhythmic. 

“Sidon, please, allow me,” you entreat, your doe-eyed glance up at him only spurring on his arousal. He releases his grip on you, gently setting you back in the water and letting you push him onto a nearby ledge of the ruins. If his people saw him now- oh, the very thought. How un-princely of him- an idea that inexplicably excites him. Prince Sidon- always so put together. Always so collected and proper. Prince Sidon- with the lips of a Hylian warrior, a celestial goddess, around one cock and her hand wrapped around the other. 

Your tongue swirls around his swollen tip, making him throw his head back in overwhelming pleasure as you doubly stimulate him. Your hand strokes him at one speed, while your mouth works at another, before you fall into a rhythm with both. Every once in a while, you pause to lick a stripe up either shaft, before diving back in once again. Desperate to have you near, Sidon weaves the fingers of your free hand with his own and grips tight. You squeeze back, letting him know you’re still present, though you seem happily preoccupied with both of his cocks. 

“Oh, you work miracles, my love,” he groans, chest heavy with pleasure. He stays your hand, lets you work with just your mouth on one of his claspers. It would bring him no greater pleasure than to come inside you, he explains. 

“Your wish is my command, my prince,” you impishly return, mischief glinting in your eyes. You only ever call him, “Prince,” in court, when you have to be more formal. Or in private, when you want to tease him. An electric pulse runs through the length of Sidon’s body at your devilish gaze. You grasp his thighs, nails digging into his flesh. The sensation sends waves of pleasure through him. As your head bobs up and down, Sidon tries his best not to buck his hips into you, but it’s so very difficult. The coil in his core tightens, threatening to snap at any moment. And when it finally does, you help him ride out the electrifying pulses of his first orgasm that night.

***

A burst of salt hits the back of your throat. Bright brine graces your tongue. Your chest feels warm as you swallow, like your body is trying to imbue itself with Sidon. Like you're trying to weave him into every fiber of your being. His ragged breath is music to your ears as you slide your mouth off him. With a wet pop you release him, a string of spit connecting him to you. A connection tenderly wiped away by one of Sidon’s massive thumbs. When you glance up at him, his eyes are dark with lust, slitted pupils wide in pools of molten gold. Sidon’s cheeks are rosy and his body temperature warm, so very warm compared to his usual chill. 

You hardly have a moment to catch your breath before Sidon draws you up to him, smashing his lips against yours. Your nails dig into the hard muscles of his back, his streamlined body pressed so deliciously against yours. Your heat is throbbing, every ounce of you heavy with arousal. Carefully, Sidon flips you over, laying you ever so gently on the slab of rock beneath. Your head is cradled by some of the snaking ivy growing on these ancient ruins. Sidon gazes down at you, eyes glimmering in the night. His look is one of curiosity, awe. Though he’s seen you bare to him so many times before, he looks at you like it’s the first time. 

“I am at your mercy,” he hushes, sweeping strands of your hair out of your face, before leaning down to tenderly press his lips to yours. He lays kiss-upon-kiss over your cheeks, down your neck, along your collarbone. Featherlight, he trails his lips down your chest, suckling gently on each of the pert buds of your nipples. His sharp teeth graze them softly before he makes his way down your abdomen. His hands knead your hips, cup and massage your breasts as his mouth reaches your heat. He wouldn’t dare tease you, but he can’t help nibbling at your thighs a bit, leaving little love-bites in his wake. After a moment of reveling in your plush inner-thighs, Sidon turns his attention to your pussy. His tongue is languid, warm, as he drags it along your folds. The moan that escapes your lips is salacious. You hear Sidon growl with excitement. He flicks his gilded gaze up at you before he softly kisses the sensitive nub of your clit. 

Sidon dives into you, lapping up your arousal like it’s his lifeblood. Like he simply cannot survive without the taste of you. He savors you, tongue slowly circling your clit, testing your entrance. You squirm under the firm grasp he has on your hips, bucking into him, causing him to chuckle at your eagerness. He hoists your legs over his broad shoulders, burying his head deeper into you. Sidon drinks you in like he’s parched. With each of your tiny mewls, you feel Sidon’s happy hums reverberating through your body. 

“Sidon, please,” you whine, smoothing one hand over the sleek fin atop his head, “I need to feel you in me.” 

He withdraws, the cool night air hitting your overheated folds surprising you. You gasp at its harshness, but Sidon is quick to replace the loss of heat with his hand, palming your sensitive pussy. When his lips meet yours, he tastes of you. 

“My darling, I’m yours. Entirely, completely. Every part of me. All parts of my soul,” he promises, his voice filled with conviction, with an aching passion. 

“I am yours, Sidon,” you return, breathless and longing, “Forever and always.” 

Tenderly, he spreads your legs, letting you wrap them around his waist, placing a large hand on the small of your back to help angle you. The stars overhead seem so close, so clear, like you’re encompassed in an endless dome of them. 

“Are you ready, my love?” Sidon asks, his cheeks flushed, breaths laborious. You nod enthusiastically, more than ready for him. He’s so slick, he slips into you with more ease than you expect. But he’s so big, you can feel him stretching out your entrance. He goes slow, gentle, allowing you ample time to adjust. Every few moments he asks if you’re alright. You stabilize yourself, arms slung around his chest, hands resting on his sinewy back. He’s cool to the touch, a sheen of water over his skin. 

With one of Sidon’s cock’s inside you, the other rests against your stomach. It’s hard again already, having recovered fast from your earlier ministrations. You grasp it gently, pumping rhythmically with Sidon’s rocking motions. A sultry moan falls from his lips at this double stimulation.

Sidon grinds slow and shallow for a while, before pressing deeper into you. You let go of the clasper resting against your stomach, allowing it to rest against you. With every pump into you, Sidon’s cock presses against the soft pad of your cervix. The pleasure is intense, your body quivering with each voltaic charge Sidon pulses into you. The heat generated between you is overwhelming, your bodies trying so desperately to merge into one. Your fingernails dig into his back, his talons into your thighs. Sidon buries his head into the crook of your neck, suckling little bruises, marking you. He delights in the way your breasts bounce with every motion. 

Goddess, please, let the moonlight fuse us into one, he begs, but he knows this cannot be. The two of you try your very best to do it yourselves. 

As Sidon grinds into you, the grip you have on his back prompts him to pick up his pace. 

“My darling, my pearl,” he manages to whisper, his breathing heavy, “You are, and always shall be, the light of my life.” 

“You are my moon, my stars, my light in the darkness,” you return, voice constrained by the taut coil in your core. Your walls quake around Sidon’s quivering cock. 

“Ha,” he huffs, pounding harder into you, “So close, my darling.” 

And so are you, but you can’t speak. For a moment later, the straining coil in you springs loose. Sidon’s name echoes through the clearing, a prayer in this ancient water temple. You cream around Sidon’s cock as he falls apart, his pace erratic as his hot cum fills your cunt. You feel even more paint your stomach, threads coating your abdomen from his other cock. Sidon calls out your name, a hymn to match yours. Sidon wonders if the moon hears the adoration, the infinite love in his voice. You know it does. 

When you’ve milked him for everything he’s worth, when he’s spent himself entirely inside you and on you, you pull Sidon down, crashing your lips into his. Feverishly, the two of you press kiss after kiss to one another, heated and yearning. You let the silence wash over you, grateful for the cool night breeze on your overheated bodies. After a while, Sidon gently pulls out of you, cock slick with your combined efforts. He pulls you into his embrace, cradling you in his arms. You belong here, enveloped by him. Enveloping him. How could the Goddess be so cruel to make you fit so perfectly, only to take you away from him?

“Leave in the morning,” Sidon begs, pressing a small kiss to the corner of your lip, “Please, stay one more night. Besides, it’s not safe.”

You shake your head, a rueful smile on your lips and sorrow in your eyes, “If I don’t leave now, it’ll be that much harder for me to leave tomorrow. And don’t worry, Zelda has sent forth people to retrieve me. They’ll be here within the hour. I’ll be okay.” 

Sidon’s heart can’t drop anymore, but if it could, it certainly would. He’s not sure what he expected to feel after everything that’s happened. The depth of his melancholy is too great for him to understand at the moment. It will take time for him to process. He doesn’t feel numb. No, instead he savors your embrace. He holds you close, littering your face with kisses, gently stroking your back while you rub small circles into his. If he could live in this moment forever, he would.

A horn blows in the distance, drawing the two of you out of your tender sanctuary in time. In the distance, you see lights on the bridge of the palace. It’s a Hylian caravan of guards, no doubt from the palace. No doubt sent here for you. You cling to Sidon’s back as he swims the two of you to shore. 

“I wish you could whisk me away on your back. I wish we could just keep swimming and not look back,” you murmur to him, laying a gentle kiss on his fin. 

“I do, too,” is all he can manage, trying so very hard not to shed any more tears. You dress quickly and Sidon helps you gather all your things. These are your last moments together. The bitter sweetness sticks in Sidon’s chest, viscous like tree sap, clinging to his ribs. Hand-in-hand you walk back down the cliff side and make your way to the bridge. Just out of sight of the Hylian caravan, you pull Sidon aside and lay your lips against his one more time. Your kiss is passionate and conveys every immense bit of your love for him. He hopes you can feel the same from him. 

When you pull back, your eyes are filled with adoration. And his with sorrow and love. You smile softly.

"The sea will carry us to one another,” you begin, tears trickling down your cheeks, “Time and again. I will find you in the next life, where our tides will be one and the same."

Sidon leans his forehead against yours, allowing his tears to fall freely.

“My heart belongs to you, always,” he breathes, “You reside in me, sheltered and safe.”

“You will always find a home in my heart,” you return, pressing one final kiss to his lips. Your hand lingers in his for a moment, before it slips from his grasp. Prince Sidon of the Zora watches your form grow smaller and smaller on the horizon, before it disappears behind the cliff sides, and he is left alone once again. 

A/N: Okay, don’t get me wrong, I actually think Lady Yona is adorable and I have all sorts of plans for some OC/Sidon/Link/Yona headcanons and drawings. But I couldn’t resist writing some Sidon/Reader angst!!!!!! Oh gosh, if I ever decide to do a follow up, there's just too many good options. a) Sidon refuses the arranged marriage and declares that he's marrying you, against his father's wishes b) Sidon decides to runaway with you and you live out the rest of your lives on a secluded island c) Sidon goes through with the marriage and you go your separate ways or, perhaps my favorite option, d) you, and Sidon, and Link, AND Yona become a happy little polycule because that would be adorable and wonderful (and I've said it before, but I'll say it again, if you know me, you know I love anything poly!!!!!!) Thank you so much for reading! This was a delight to write, though it definitely filled me with a lot of sadness. As always, likes and reblogs are greatly appreciated! Hope you are all doing amazing! Lots of love 💜

#the legend of zelda #prince sidon #totk spoilers #sidon x reader #prince sidon x reader #loz: botw #Loz: totk #spicy #lemon #angst and smut #dani writes #my writing #loz fanfiction

[noforkingclue]

I hope you don’t mind me coming in with another request — you’re reblogging amazing prompt lists and I can’t help myself!!

Would you be willing to do something for Carmy Berzatto with this prompt: giving their honest opinion when it's asked ?

Thanks so much! 🧡

Of course! Come in with as many requests as you want :D

I know right! The people who make those lists are fucking incredible!!!

Anyway, hope you like the fic :)

Title: Taste Test

Prompt list: link

Everything tag list: greenrevolutionary, @byebyebreezywrites spngingerbread21,  @layazul,  @lov3vivian, @simonsbluee

“Hey, are you busy?”

You glanced up from your work at a nervous looking Carmy. Well, Carmy always seemed nervous but this seemed different. He was more on edge than normal.

“If you are that’s fine,” he said quickly, “I can always-”

“I’m always free for you.” you interrupted

“Really?”

“Of course.”

Colour rose on Carmy’s cheeks and you smiled softly at him. You stood up from your desk and approached him and took his hands, squeezing them gently.

“What can I help you with?” you asked

“Well there’s a new dish I’m creating…”

“Oh?”

“And I was wondering-”

Carmy cut himself off and shook his head before looking away.

“Doesn’t fucking matter.”

You cupped his cheek and turned his head so he was looking back at you. You could see the nerves in his eyes and you said,

“If you’re worried about it then it matters. What do you want me to do.”

“I was wondering if you wanted to…”

“Yes?”

“Taste it for me?”

You beamed at him and nodded enthusiastically.

“Of course!” you said

“Really?”

“Yep!”

“You’re not just saying that?”

“Of course not.”

You practically dragged Carmy into your dining room and sat down at the table. You could still see the uncertainty in Carmy’s eyes but you could also see the fondness coming through. The two of you had been dating for almost a year, you could still see the uncertainty when it came to asking your opinion on things. He was opening up more to you but it was a slow process but you didn’t care. You loved Carmy either way.

“Here it is,” a dish was placed in front of you, “and I want you to be honest with me.”

“I’m always honest with you.”

“As honest as you fucking want,” Carmy sat down opposite you, “I guarantee that I’ve heard worse.”

He gave you what he probably thought was a reassuring smile but you could still see the nerves in his eyes. Slowly you picked up a fork and took a bite of the food.

“Wow,” you said, mouth still full, “fucking wow.”

“You like it?”

“That’s fucking incredible.”

“Really?”

“Yes!”

“You’re not just saying that? I can handle the criticism.”

“I don’t have any.”

“You sure? It’s not too salty. I was worried that I added a bit too much.”

“It’s perfect. Are you going to add this to the menu?”

“I… I don’t know.”

“I think you should.”

“Really?”

“Yes.”

“But-”

Again he cut himself off. Carmy rested his hands on the table and linked his fingers together. He rested his forehead against them and you gave him a sad smile. You reached across the table and tapped the top of his head. He looked up and you put your hands on top of his.

“The others are going to love it.” you said

“How did- are you sure?”

“Yes.”

“How?”

“Because I do and if they have anything to say against it then they’ll have to answer to me. Now, let me finish this and I’ll help with the dishes.”

#fanfiction #the bear #reader insert #request #carmen berzatto #carmy berzatto #carmen berzatto x reader #carmy berzatto x reader

[wandering-winchesters]

If this is how I go, it’s worth it.

Dean x injured reader

Word count: 1,926

Trigger Warnings: injury, blood, mention of a firearm.

Summary: reader gets hurt protecting Dean.

A/N: Requests are open! Please send them to me. If you’d like to be added to my tag list, please let me know! Masterlist

I’ve always had a hard time letting people into my life. Introducing them to the real me, the darker side of me that I hide behind a bubbly facade. The childhood that shaped me, something that very few people know about. When I was little there was no one to protect me from the things that I had to live through, the nightmarish situations that I still relive too often in my sleep. In adulthood, I’ve changed the narrative. I’ve become the protector, there’s nothing I wouldn’t do to help someone else. Save someone else. Especially those that I love and hold close to my heart.

Sam and Dean have always held a special place in my life. Ever since I met them, on a hunt many years ago. They’d taken me under their wing, Sam willingly, Dean reluctantly. I knew nothing of the supernatural until I was in the wrong place at the wrong time and become the next helpless victim of a nest of vampires. That was until Sam and Dean showed up, just in time.

They knew I didn’t have a great childhood, I’d clued them into that much. However, I would never let them in entirely. It was too much, I didn’t want them to think of me any differently. I’ve seen the way Dean already looks at me after hunts, the annoyance that comes over him when things don’t go the way he wanted. I see the concern that washes over Sam, when I come close to being injured, or when I walk away with cuts and bruises. I don’t need their pity, they don’t need that burden.

Through everything over the years, I began to love them more than I thought possible. Sam like a brother. Dean like an annoying asshole, but also my best friend that I loved with all of my heart, not that I would ever tell him. I couldn’t, he would never feel the same way I was sure of it.

So when I saw that demon smirk and point a gun directly towards Dean’s head, I never hesitated to throw myself onto him and shove him to the ground. My body blocking the path of the bullet, giving Sam enough time to finish the exorcism, the black cloud erupting from the helpless man and fleeing the room.

“What the hell, Y/N. You shouldn’t have done that!” Dean yells, anger etching its way across his face, the concern only evident from the tone of his voice. His eyes searching mine for any sign of pain.

“He was going to kill You Dean.” I grovel, pushing myself off of him, the adrenaline still pumping through my veins. Dean scowls, his hand coming up to his face to wipe some sweat from his brow.

“So what? You were going to sacrifice yourself for me? How much of an idiot are you?”

I roll my eyes at him, pushing off my thighs to stand from the squatting position I had moved into. It wasn’t until I stood fully upright and began to stretch my limbs that the searing pain caught up to me. I press my hand to my abdomen instinctively, trying to dull the pain.

“I’m not an idiot De-“ I stop mid sentence as I bring my hand up to eye level. Red. Dripping , red blood, covers the entirety of my fingers. My eyes dart up from my hand, locking with Sam’s from across the room. He’s staring back at me, shock etched across his face, but beginning to walk towards me.

“That’s debatable- oh my god Y/N, fuck.” Dean starts, his tone changing halfway through his lecture. He takes the two steps necessary to get to me, taking his flannel off in the process. I feel his hands grip my body, one going to my back, the other balling his flannel up and pressing it tightly against the wound in my abdomen.

“Sam, you’ve gotta help me.” Dean pleads, his eyes never leaving my face.

My body starts to feel numb, the adrenaline wearing off and searing pain roaring through every nerve ending in my body. I feel my legs collapse beneath me, Dean quickly compensating for my lack of lower body strength, by pulling me into his embrace.

I laugh bitterly, coughing and choking on what I assume is blood making its way through my lungs and out of my throat.

“If this is how I go De, it’s worth it. I promise you.” I whisper, my eyes locking with his vivid green ones. His eyes. I’d never allowed myself to stare into his eyes for this long, the deep green is enchanting. Pulling me in, the longer I look. I barely even notice my tears beginning to fall, I’m too focused on the way his eyes are beginning to water as he stares back at me.

I can see his lips moving, feel the way he’s shaking me gently, his hand cupping my face. Sam is right next to me too, I feel the floor pressing into my body as they lower me to the ground, in an attempt to slow the bleeding and apply more pressure. None of that matters now. Nothing matters now, my vision is blurring. My eyelids are heavy, so heavy.

“Hey!” Dean’s firm voice breaks through my haze, his hand lightly slapping my face, “don’t do that, Y/N. Don’t close your eyes. You don’t get to die on me, you hear me sweetheart?” I blink rapidly, trying to clear my field of vision. I momentarily succeed, my eyes locking with his again. I can see the absolute panic engraved into every ounce of this man’s face, he’s moving me now. My head falls forward as he places an arm under my shoulders, the other under my knees. He tucks my head against his chest with his chin, pressing a kiss to my sweat soaked hairline. I continue to fight the wave of exhaustion sweeping over me, blinking my eyes trying to keep them open. The last thing I see is Dean, looking down at me pleading for me to stay with him. But slowly, ever so slowly, my eyes fall closed and the world around me goes black

-

Agony.

This must be hell, the amount of pain that I’m in, the only explanation is hell.

A low groan escapes my lips, every inch of my skin is on fire. Muscles and nerves that I didn’t know I had are screaming out in protest as I try to take a full breath. I manage to inhale, immediately turning into a coughing fit as I choke on the air entering my lungs.

“Easy. Slow breaths, sweetheart.” A hand comes to rest on the crown of my head, stroking my hair gently. The touch startling me, causing me to panic and try to brush away the touch.

“Shhhh, it’s okay.” His voice rushes over my senses, calming me, reassuring me.

I force myself to open my eyes, unsure what to expect.

“Dean?” I whisper, finally realizing that he’s here in-front of me. “Am I dead?” My voice barely functioning, my throat dry and hoarse.

“It’s me sweetheart. You’re not dead. I told you I wasn’t going to let you go.” He smiles slightly, but it doesn’t reach his eyes. He holds a cup up to my lips, letting me take small sips, his fingers never leaving my skin.

“I must be dead, the Dean I know is never this nice to me.” I whisper, a small laugh escaping me, which I immediately regret. Relief floods over deans face, the crease in his brow lessens, a small smile reaches his eyes this time.

“That’s not true, idiot.” He says, pressing a kiss to my knuckles.

“That’s more like it, bitch.” I say, squeezing his hand back.

-

The next few weeks pass slowly, I’m never alone for more than five minutes. The boys take turns, keeping me company, changing my bandages, helping me shower, and just all around waiting on me hand and foot. Dean spends every night on the couch, that he had dragged into my room in the bunker. I don’t object, too weak and tired to even dare. I spend a lot of time sleeping, nightmares plaguing my every attempt at resting.

Tonight is one of those nights, I’ve already awoken from a nightmare. Now I lay on my side, gazing at Dean sitting on the couch. His fingers hovering over the keyboard on his laptop, researching some creature that he has refused to tell me about. Any time I have asked, it starts an argument about how the only thing I need to think about right now is recovering.

“I can feel you staring.” He smirks, bringing his eyes to meet my own, the corners of his mouth turning into a smile. He seems older, worry is etched deeper into his face, his eyes not nearly as bright as they used to be. The dark circles under his eyes, accentuated by the terrible late night lighting of my room.

“I can’t help it, you’re just so annoying I can’t not stare.” I mumble, gently pushing myself up on my elbow. Trying to conceal the wince that follows this slight movement.

Dean chuckles, closing his laptop and turning his body to face me.

“Y/N, we need to talk about what happened back there.” He stares, his brow furrowing again. So many emotions sweep across his face at once, I cant read him.

“You can’t do that again. You cant throw yourself into harms way to save me. I couldn’t live with myself if anything happened to you. What am I saying? Something did happen to you. I already have a hard time looking at you, knowing you almost died to save me. I love you too much, to let you die for me.” He wrings his hands as he speaks, his eyes moving away from mine and focusing on the wooden floor boards beneath his feet.

A silence falls between us for a few moments, his words hanging heavy in the air. My head spinning at his words, I love you too much. Dean Winchester loves me.

“Dean, I don’t think you understand me nearly as well as you think you do. There is nothing you can say or do that would stop me from taking a bullet for you again. I will always do everything in my power to protect you. Protect you in the way that I never had. You would do it for me De, you gotta let me do it for you too.” His eyes are trained on me again, red rimmed and watery. He swipes at them with his fingers, clearing his throat and maintaining eye contact with me once more.

I slide my feet towards the edge of the bed, intent upon going to sit near to him. He stops me with a look and a few mumbled words about how I better not move my ass from my spot or else.

I huff, patting the bed next to me.

“C’mere then, Winchester.” I say, watching his every move as he crosses the distance of the bedroom to sit by my side.

“De-“I rest my head on his shoulder, taking a deep breath and steeling my nerves. He reaches over and intertwines our fingers, his thumb tracing a pattern into the back of my hand. “I love you too, more than I thought possible. I’ll always do anything I can to save you. On this side of hell and the next.”

#deanwinchesterfluff #dean winchester fluff #deanwinchesterxreader #dean winchester fic #supernatural dean #dean winchester x reader #dean winchester angst #dean winchester x injured reader #dean winchester #dean winchester comfort #dean x reader #supernatural #spn #wanderingwinchesters #sam and dean #dean x you #deanwinchesterblurb #sam winchester

[itsohh]

Ghost and Price Soulmate AU

A/N: G/N reader, posted as seperate fics on ao3 with each specific tag relating.

Warnings: Angst, self-mutaliation, reference domestic abuse

AO3 Masterlist

Ghost

He never believed in soul mates. Not in the matter that most people thought. Sure, they were real, sure there was someone out there destined to be ones other's match. Ghost just didn't believe it meant anything. Not really.

He of course had seen what it lead to.

His mother, destined to be with his father. They were soul mates and yet he treated her just as bad. His father loved his mother, sure, but he loved himself so much more.

So when that fated day came, that one when a bullet hit Ghost directly on his thigh, he couldn't help but be a little relieved.  The nurses had been so sympathetic, the doctors too. They hadn't been able to save the soul mark. Now replaced with a gunshot scar. A blessing in disguise. It was a weight off his shoulders.

Escaped. He had escaped destiny.

-

Legs rather comfortable on Soaps lap, you hand your arm over your eyes while you quietly rest. "How'd you get this one?" He poked the scar just under your knee. If anyone else had asked, you would have given them a piece of your mind. Asking about a scar wasn't a line that everyone could cross.

"Some dude tried to go for my kneecap and missed."

"Ouch."

"Didn't even hit me hard enough to shatter my kneecaps regardless of his shit aim."

The door clicked open and you heard the quietest of footsteps enter the room. "Sergeants." Ghost.

"Hey LT, what's the sit'?"

"Price's put us all on mandatory vacation leave." Your arm lift from your face at his voice as you stared at him.

"For real?" You asked, disbelief written across your face.

"Two weeks." You heard a huff from his voice as he sat down opposite to you. There was almost a relief in his eyes. He had been working hard. Too hard.

"Well gives the pair of you a perfect amount of time for a honeymoon huh-" Soap's tease was cut off by your kick but only made him laugh harder. Your relationship with Simon wasn't a secret, not to Soap anyway.

"Alright, alright I was joking. Shite."

"Perhaps you could use that two weeks to learn how to be funny." Your eyes narrowed at him.

"You wound me." He jabbed a finger next to a scar. "Speaking of wounds, How'd you get this one?" You looked over to the exposed skin just under your shirt.

You froze for a moment and your eyes didn't go to Soaps, but to Ghosts. The pair of you had never brought up the matter at hand. Soul marks, it never seemed important. So many people so dedicated to finding that person that the world designed for them, it just didn't seem to matter for you. You loved Ghost, you didn't want to know it was because of an outside force. You loved him and nothing would change that.

"That's my soul mark."

"Damn, that's rough. Not a pretty one." Soap looked down at the nasty scar.

"No, I mean it was. Alright, so when I was a kid I was totally in love with this girl at school called Lilith."

"Oh yeah?" He raised a brow while Ghost continued to watch.

"But she had a different soul mark than mine and wouldn't even look at someone who wasn't her soul mark. She was only gonna date her soulmate."

"What happened?"

"I figured I couldn't have the same one as her but maybe she would date me if I didn't have one. Like how would she ever know if I lost it."

"So you burnt it off?" Soap looked at you with slight horror.

"Cut actually. It uh, really fucking hurt but man she was really pretty." Soap straightened his back slightly and you swallowed.

"I presume it didn't work out."

"We started dating happily and were together up until right before I joined the military. Until her actual soulmate showed up."

"Ohhhh, rough." He gave you a look of sympathy.

"At the time? Was not happy. But I think everything worked out okay." Your eyes locked onto Ghosts for a moment.

"Cute. What about this one?" Soap asked and you looked at the scar on your hand.

"Think that was when I burnt myself making an omelette." Soap barked out a laugh and you could have sworn you saw Ghost's eyes squint from a smile.

"For fucks sake, Soap!" A grumble turned into a yell and the pair of you froze at Price's voice. In all honesty, Price didn't shout like that very often, especially at one of you. Normally it was more akin to a tired sigh.

"Whaddya do this time?" You removed your legs from his lap.

"Better go find out." He jumped up and cracked his neck. "If you don't hear from me in three hours then I want stripers at my funeral." He gave you a wink and headed out the door. The fact he locked the door after him wasn't something you missed.

Silence settled between the pair of you. Eventually, Ghost spoke up. "Can I see it?" Your eyes lift up and met his. You knew exactly what he meant.

"Sure. It's just a scar now, nothing special." Ghost stood up and towered his way over to you. He replaced Soap and your feet settled on his lap. Carefully, Simon removed the mask from his face and placed it on the coffee table next to you. You watched as he bit the top of his glove and slid it off his hand for it to join his mask.

His hand gently grazed the old scar. "Do you regret it?"

"No. Not really, to be honest after things didn't work out with Lilith I didn't think I would date again."

"Why did you?" His brown eyes settled on yours while he continued to stroke the scar.

"Well, we spent what like three months skirting around each other?"

"Four."

"Mmm, I mean you're an attractive man Simon. Enough to make someone change their mind."

"You couldn't see my face."

"What can I say, I'm a sucker for tats." You grinned and he raised a brown. His curled lips betrayed him and you let out a small laugh. "Honestly blame Soap, dunno if he did the same to you but god fucking dammit was he a persistent wingman. I enjoy your company and he didn't let me forget that."

"Hmm, seems he played matchmaker for the pair of us."

"Are you really surprised? It's Soap, he loves to meddle."

"Probably why Price is ripping him a new one," Simon muttered and his eyes sent back to the scar.

"Does it bother you?" Your voice was small, quiet and concern drew across your face. "That I don't have a mark anymore. That we will never know if we were made for each other." Simon paused and then suddenly got up from the chair only adding to your uncertainty. He placed his leg on the coffee table and started to pull up his trouser leg.

Confused you watched him until he pointed to a particular scar. "See that there?"

"You got shot?" You raised a brow.

"That there's where my mark god before it was shot. Lucky bullet. Can't be upset with you an't having one if I don't have one now."

Simon let the trouser leg fall and sat back down on the couch. This time he grabbed your legs and pulled you up onto his lap. It was a swift movement that had you automatically let out a small laugh. He had that adoring look on his face. The corners of his lips all crinkled up. Now with you in arm's reach, his bare hand caressed your face. "Couldn't give a flying fuck about that shite. I'm with you because I want to be, not because some destiny bullshit tells me to. But because I choose to love you."

Price

It had been a completely innocent moment that he saw it. That mark on your torso. A cropped singlet showed it off while you played netball with your squad. A particular game that Gaz had joined. Price wasn't even supposed to be there, he was only getting Gaz. Yet he froze when he saw that mark. The one that was identical to the on his wrist. Just under his watch.

Gaz forgotten about, Price had a call he had to make.

"Look, Kate, doesn't need to be somewhere safe or dangerous just anywhere but where I am."

"John I can't just have people reassigned for no good reason. Are you trying to sabotage their career? Is this a personal thing?"

"No, fuck, I'm not trying to fuck with their career. I'll be compromised around them, it's not a problem now but it might be in the future."

"Are you in a relationship with this person? Or were you?" Kate asked and John let out a sound of slight frustration through the phone.

"They're my soul mate Kate. They don't know it but I saw it." The line went silent. John eventually heard a sigh on the other end of the line.

"I'll do what I can."

-

After that phone call, John hadn't heard from you again. Despite the desire for companionship feeling deep down inside of him, he knew he did the right thing. It wasn't your fault and it wasn't his. Yet he had decided to override date, to override destiny.

Laswell never told him where she sent you. On any other day, he would have said that was for the better.

Any other day.

Gaz sprinted alongside him, guns firing about near them. "Fuck!" He could hear Gaz as the building nearby crumbled down into dust, a building they had just come from.

The pair of them were overrun and for a moment he looked at Gaz and regretted bringing him to his death. There were just too many from too many directions. With no proper cover, the pair of them were fish in a barrel. Bullets came from in front of them but not at them. By some miracle, a door opened while gunfire continued to cover them.

The door promptly shut behind them as both Gaz and Price fell to the ground in their hurried movement.

"Well, I'll be damned, long time no see Gaz." You held a hand out for him and Price watched as you pulled Gaz off the ground.

"Hey, Lieutenant! Didn't expect you to be here." Lieutenant? Price never knew you were promoted. Then again it's not like he wanted to hear about you, it was easier pretending you didn't exist.

"Yeah well, not the worst place to be at. I presume you guys are here due to the attack three days ago?"

"Affirmative on that." Price finally spoke up, he could pretend at least now that you weren't his soul mate.

"We have been here since then, then you two were running through dead man's land."

"Are you guys stuck here?" Gaz asked while you lead them over to a table with a map on top.

"Of course not. We have an underground pathway in our access. But they don't know that. They think that we are stuck here, they tried to push a could of times but Katey up in the best keeps taking them out."

"Are they hoping to starve you out then?" Gaz asked and you nodded.

"Yup in the meantime we have been setting up."

"Setting up what?" Price asked and you gave him a big grind.

"Fireworks show of course. The tunnels below here are far more extensive than everyone originally thought. It goes directly under their set up so we are going to hit the supports."

"Have it crumble from beneath them." Gaz breathed and you nodded.

"Only problem is that there's a high chance that our tunnels will collapse too, we are right on a cliff face so it's gonna be close." Your Sergent popped up next to you.

"This is Sergeant Lawyerson. Demolitions and structural expert."

"The idea is we will evacuate everyone first. " You explained.

"Speaking of, we should get to that. I onto have one set of charges left."

"Right we have to be quick then, when they realise that we don't have people at their posts they might push."

"I'll go get them in place now. Captain, Sergent do you mind looking after my men? There's a side path on the mountain we need to take, it goes from tunnel to straight cliff face. It's pretty risky but KitKat knows the way."

They both gave you a nod and started to work with the squad to leave. Yet Price's eyes lingered on you for a moment. You were a storm, not one to be trifled with. You spoke with certainty and confidence. The perfect leader for your squad. He could see the trust in their eyes.

"Lieutenant!"

"What is it, Katey?"

"Fuck, they got a tank out here!" Price watched as you froze for a moment then sprinted to the exposed gap then swore.

"Right, everyone evacuates now. KitKat eyes front."

"What about Attorney?"

"I'll get Lawyerson, the rest of you go." Price was swept up with the small crowd and followed KitKat down a tunnel. He only had a glimpse of you before you ran down a different path away from him.

"Captain, this way." KitKat had a kind smile on her face but he couldn't help but feel the pit in his stomach form. Was this a result of the bond? Or was this a gut feeling? He couldn't tell.

With Gaz in front of him, he was led through the path until he reached outside. It was an old climbing path, the bridges were old and wooden while the actual path was thin. It didn't allow for fast movement.

A few minutes later his head whipped around to see you following your Sargent. "Blow it." You commanded as the pair of you expertly hurried down the path. Far faster than everyone else had. He couldn't help but wonder how many times the pair of you had travelled it in the last few days.

"We're too close to the blast!" Price's eyes went to the entryway as more voices started to echo down.

"We can't let them reach here else everyone's dead. There's no cover here."

"We can handle some!" She protested.

"Some, not a goddamn army." You were right. She glanced at you over her shoulder then hit the detonator.

A rumble echoed it as the pair of you continued to sprint. Echos of your enemies' screams carried through the tunnel and out into the open. True to Lawyersons suspicions, the tunnels on your side had started to collapse too.

Unfortunately, not all your foes were caught. A brief area by the exit was reinforced rather well and they survived. Meanwhile, the path around you started to crumble. Gaz lit up his gun in an attempt to cover the pair of you.

Price snapped to action just in time for the wooden bridge to collapse under both you and Lawyerson. She managed to barely leap over to safety but your jump, slightly further back didn't make it.

But he caught you.

Price's hand found yours as he dove prone to the side. With one hand off the side, you dangled to his hand. "I got you." His eyes bore into yours as the pair of you tried to pull you up. Yet the wood that you used cracked under your weight and all progress was lost. Lawyerson recovered and went to help pull you up but a bullet in her leg had her cry out.

A curse left John's mouth as a gunshot hit his shoulder. They were getting lit up trying to save you. Your eyes turned to see the small group that had survived. They were aiming for the three of you.

"Let go, you need to leave." Your voice came and for the first time in a very long time. He froze.

"I'm not leaving you."

"You will die if you stay and I'll die regardless. Don't water your life like this. " He felt your hand go limp against him and he used all his strength to continue holding on.

"I can't."

"They always said you were such a level-headed man. Let go. Don't put the weight of your death on me. Lawyerson will need help with that leg of hers. Save her."

His eyes glanced at the small mark on his exposed wrist, your eyes followed him and you gave him a weak smile. John couldn't say it out loud, that he was your soul mate. A man you only knew from word of mouth.

"I already knew. Gaz showed me a picture of the pair of you, your wrist was showing." His lips parted.

"You didn't say anything."

"Love wasn't an option for me. Soulmates? That's a fantasy for civilians to have. Not us. But for what it's worth, if there was anyone worth being cosmically tied to, your a pretty damn amazing man to be it."

He shouted your name and with your free hand, you pried yourself from his grip. "Go!" So John watched as you fell, a love finished before it had even started.

#ghost x reader #price x reader #john price x reader #mw x reader #modern warfare 2 #cod x reader #call of duty #simon riley #john price

[steddieunderdogfics]

This week’s writer spotlight feature is: @stevesbipanic! They have fourteen works under the Stranger Things tag and thirteen of those works are under the Steve Harrington/Eddie Munson tag over on Archive of our Own!!

Our anonymous nominator recommends the following of their works by stevesbipanic:

Stevie's Time Loop

Home For Christmas

Remember Me

The Clothes That Make Us

Boy for All Seasons

She's an amazing writer that's able to make you feel connected to the characters, especially Steve. She's able to make me both cry and laugh in the same fic which is a feat to do well. She's also an amazing friend. Stevie's Time Loop is one of my favourite as it's a really unique way of writing a timeloop with large time jumps and most loops focusing on Steve and his trauma rather than finding a solution. - anonymous

Below the cut, @stevesbipanic answered some questions about their writing process and some of their recommended work!

Why do you write Steddie?

Steddie was the first ship that ever drove me to write fanfiction. I think the fact that I see myself a lot in both of them, especially Steve makes them so enjoyable to write for me. I think they’re also such moldable characters that you can write them into a lot of different stories quite easily and I love exploring their personalities and dynamics.

What’s your favorite trope to READ?

Soulmate AUs because I’m a sucker for true love.

What’s your favorite trope to WRITE?

Angst with a happy ending, I love making both these boys and my readers cry but also want them to be happy and in love in the end.

What’s your favorite Steddie fic?

This is such a hard question, there are so many talented writers and amazing fics, but if I had to choose one I’d have to say “The One in Which a Time Loop is Fucking Exhausting” by badpancake, it was one of the first time loop fics I read and really inspired my own time loop fic.

Is there a trope you’re excited to explore in a future work but haven’t yet?

I’d love to explore a fantasy AU in the future, I know many talented authors writing dragon!eddie and King Steve or knight and bard steddie and it is one of my favourite genres of fics that are outside of Hawkins.

What is your writing process like?

A mess, most of my works on Tumblr are spur of the moment ideas that will come to me and I immediately need to write them down. It’s actually the longer slower projects that are hardest for me since they require a lot more planning and editing, I really admire the authors consistently putting out those big fics.

Do you have any writing quirks?

I’d say my most noticeable one is how I write dialogue, I really don’t like writing steve said eddie said etc etc. I usually write each thing said on it’s own line and it’s clear who’s speaking by what they say or how they say it, I think it breaks up the story nicely too since you feel you’re seeing the conversation rather than reading it.

Do you prefer posting when you’ve finished writing or on a schedule?

As soon as I finish writing I want people to see it, I kinda hate sometimes when I’m doing a project and have to wait for a specific time to post but the anticipation can be fun too.

Which fic are you most proud of?

Honestly, I’m most proud of my latest fic “Home for Christmas” it was the first time I’d ever participated in a bang and the project felt huge, it felt like a big achievement getting it all out in the end and it’s the longest fic I’ve ever written as a bonus.

How did you get the idea for Remember Me?

I think I’d been reading a fic where Steve got a concussion and had a bit of temporary memory loss and I just thought what if all those concussions had long lasting effects on Steve’s brain when he grew older. I’ve also experienced a love one going through long term memory loss and how hard it is to watch that.

When writing Stevie's Time Loop, what was something you didn’t expect?

I didn’t expect it to become a whole fic! It started off as one little off hand drabble I wrote that alluded to a lot of loops surrounding the scene of Steve and Robin discussing how Robin had a bad feeling about this and just thought well what if this is like time loop deja vu.

What inspired The Clothes That Make Us?

Exploring why Steve dresses how he does and how he likes the things he does and how there’s an emotional reason behind some of the fans favourite outfits was something I wanted to explore more and this was my very first fic I wrote for ao3 so it was a bit daunting but also very exciting.

What was your favorite part to write from Boy for All Seasons?

My favourite part was definitely thinking of all the silly costumes Eddie would come up with as well as flirty Steve is so fun to write.

How do/did you feel writing The Clothes That Make Us?

I felt nervous since it was the first fic I ever wrote but excited since I felt really proud writing something that long and the feedback I got was so heartwarming.

What was the most difficult part of writing Remember Me?

Omg just getting to the end without crying so hard, after I posted it so many people messaged me about how they cried through it, just know I was writing that through tears too!

Do you have a favorite scene and/or line from any of your fics?

"Thank you for giving me a life worth remembering.” in “Remember Me” makes me want to cry everytime and really shows what we want for our favourite characters is to have a happy life however long they get.

Do you have any upcoming projects or fics you’d like to share/promote?

I’ll be posting my fic in the upcoming Reverse Bang in March which is exciting and I’ve got a secret project coming up later this year that people can follow @steddielycrying.

Outside of these questions, Is there anything YOU would like to add?

I’d just like to thank everyone who’s supported me through writing, whether it be a random comment on a fic or my lovely mutuals that get me through hard days, this has been an amazing fandom to be apart of and I can’t wait to write more!

Thank you to our author, @stevesbipanic , and our nominator! See more of @stevesbipanic's works featured on our page throughout the day!

Writer’s Spotlight is every Wednesday! Want to nominate an author? You can nominate them here!

#steddie fic recs #steddie #steve harrington #eddie munson #steve x eddie #stranger things #writer's spotlight #writer's wednesday

[alieinthemorning]

Sins of the Father [Inhibitor Lunae | Dan Heng]

Content: Angst, Assassins & Hitmen AU, Dan Heng and Bailu are Siblings (and Dan Feng is their father), Reader-Insert, POV Second Person

Pronouns: None

Reblogs: Let me know that you enjoy my work and want to see more, so don’t forget to like and reblog (and comment in the tags. I love seeing people’s rambles in the tags)!

This work’s concepts, plot and original characters are my own which means I do not allow any sort of creative theft nor do I allow my work to be entered into any sort of A.I. bots. Thank you for respecting my space and boundaries.

“When will brother be back?”

You looked down at the little girl who was resting at your side. She looked up at you with those large eyes that reminded you of the ocean waves touching the beach. 

They were beautiful, but honestly they also made you sad. She was the golden sand, unable to leave the protection of the land. While her brother was the ocean, impenetrable. No matter how deep you went, there would always be something hidden deeper. 

Brushing the hair that had fallen near her eyes, you answered her. “He’ll be back soon, Bailu.” 

She huffed, sitting up. “Why is he always out so late? Doesn’t he know that that’s bad for you!”

You smiled, gently persuading her to lay back down. “You’re right. Which is why you need to rest, so that you can grow big and strong.”

“Not until he gets back.”

You held back a sigh. There was no point in arguing any further. You knew that when Bailu got like this, there was no changing her mind. Especially when it had to do with her brother. The two of them were incredibly stubborn like that. 

jing, jing

You paused, glancing at the entryway, then at Bailu who had fallen asleep. You smiled. No matter how much older she attempted to act, she was still just a little, growing girl. 

You gently removed yourself from her, making your way to greet the person beyond the door. 

He was already in the house, back turned to shut the door as quietly as possible as he toed out of his shoes. When he did turn around, he jolted, obviously not expecting you. 

“...you’re still awake.” 

You frowned. He was refusing to make eye contact. “Bailu couldn’t sleep. She tried her hardest to stay up.” You crossed your arms. 

He sighed. “She really needs to stop doing that.”

“And you need to stop doing what you're doing, and yet here you are. Late again.” 

That got his attention, you thought as his eyes snapped up to meet yours. 

“You know why I have to do this.”

“I know why you say that you have to do it, but that doesn’t mean that—”

He had moved closer, into your personal space, forcing you to acknowledge the change in his demeanor. 

“It does.” He sighed roughly. “...It does if it keeps you and Bailu safe.” 

You glared at him. “The sins of your father are not yours to bear.”

You hated their father, Dan Feng, a no good man who left nothing to his children, but pain and suffering. 

“They are when there is no one left to bear them.” 

And you hated that this man forced his own son to think that he had to settle the debt of his wrongdoings. The people he were tied up with wouldn’t leave him alone until after the debt was paid in cash or otherwise. 

And you refused to let it be otherwise. 

“How many times have I told you that I can help. Just let me—” You tired, but he cut you off.

“I refuse to allow you to get involved any further than what you already have.” He took a step closer, which forced you to take a step back. His hand snatched your wrist, pulling closer as he leaned down toward your ear. “I am grateful for you for watching over Bailu, truly I am. But if you keep digging, where you don’t belong, I’ll have to remove you myself.” He released you, pushing you, and disappearing further into the home. 

‘How much longer?’ 

You put Bailu to bed, before retiring to your own room.

How much longer would he inflict such suffering on himself? How much longer did he have before it torn him asunder?

The answer: Not long. 

Thankfully, Bailu had a sleepover tonight and wasn’t home to see…this.

He was badly bloody and bruised, shallow breaths the only thing signaling that he wasn’t dead. 

It was silent between the two of you as you worked on patching him up. 

It was silent as he retreated to his room while you cleaned the aftermath.

It was silent as you watched him you.

Both of you having so much to say, but neither of you knowing how to say it.

And so you didn’t, actions spoke louder than words after all, didn’t they?

“Hello, Blade.”

BANG

“Goodnight, Yingxing.”

Click

tap, tap, Tap, Tap, Tap, Tap

The bridge of silence had grown between you. Neither knowing the other anymore. The deep relationship that the two of you had formed had been destroyed by you.

But you were fine with that, you made your bed that day, and now it was time to lie in it. 

You finished off the drink you had been nursing. “I don’t regret what I did, so I hope you weren’t expecting to lecture me.”

“No…rather, I’d like to thank you.” 

You peered at him through your lashes. “Oh?”

He stepped closer, not into your personal space, but at the edge of that. “Yes, I understand. Just as I want to protect you and Bailu, you wanted to protect Bailu and I.”

You smiled, presenting him your hand. “And now we can protect her together.”

He placed a kiss on the knuckle of your middle finger. “Yes…”

BANG, BANG

No one would dare touch the Little Lady of the Dragon. 

Least they be devoured in its bloody maw.

Um, so me and Rogue were talking about things, and it devolved into how I view Dan Heng and Bailu as siblings. Um, I wanted to make something more hurt/comfort-y, but I instead manifested this...at like 1-2am, so yea...hope you enjoyed...this.

Also, can you tell I've been reading a lot of manwhas lmao

Ko-Fi | Commission | Masterlist

#alie ficlets #alie ficlets: honkai star rail #honkai star rail x reader #hsr x reader #dan heng x reader #bailu & reader #dan heng & bailu (familial)

[fromthedragonsdesk]

On Visual Novels and Catharsis

I never had a high opinion of Visual Novels. In my mind, they always seemed to boil down to the most basic wish fulfillment tripe that we'd collectively assign to the isekai genre these days, I'd wager. To me it was a waste of time or energy trying to interact with them (as an aside, I'm well aware that the Phoenix Wright series is arguably a visual novel, but I missed that boat by not having DS-era device). Even today, with a glance over most of games tagged 'visual novel' on Steam, you'll see what could be generously described as fetish pornography. So, seeing all this, I reinforced my belief that visual novels were for people who wanted some plot with their porn, and never thought much of it.

To my surprise, Steam insisted on recommending visual novels to me. I usually just tossed them aside from the recommendation queue, until I got two recommended almost back-to-back: Mice Tea and Changeling Tale.

Mice Tea had generally positive reviews, and many of them cited that the game's writing and characterization were generally humorous and appealing. So, given that it was on sale during the Steam Winter Sale, I figured it was worth a shot. Then, after basically binging on the game for 20 hours, I walked away thinking that I might have misjudged the genre on some levels.

I wouldn't say I was entirely surprised by Mice Tea - the reviews did it justice in terms of you, as the reader, wanting to root for the main cast to succeed. Most of the conflict didn't necessarily arise from an outside force, but rather internalized conflicts and the struggle to essentially be honest with yourself and those around you, risking vulnerability, essentially. At its core, I still felt like it was wish fulfillment to a significant degree, but the implausibilities were generally smoothed over enough to allow for suspension of disbelief to ride along with the story. And yeah, there... was a fair amount of catering to various fetishes and such worked in, but all in a fairly world-consistent sort-of perspective? At its core, the story was light, cheerful with moments of self-reflection and introspection, and wrapped up in a generally nice bow all in the end.

But what Mice Tea ended up doing for me, personally, was allowing me to lower my defenses during a particularly stressful point in my life, staying present in my mind when I then read over the reviews and such for Changeling Tale. I brushed off the emotion reviews, thinking that they were likely being dramatic.

I could not have been more wrong.

While set in a backdrop of old Scottish fantasy, I continually found myself impressed at how grounded Changeling Tale managed to make itself felt. I believe this is because the main character / player character of Changeling Tale (hereafter referred to as "Malcolm") is primarily reacting to the supernatural events occurring around him, rather than necessarily driving them by his own volition. Malcolm is thrust into a world that he already feels disconnected from due to his service in the military, and it cracks further open as fae magic begins seeping into the world around him.

That said, no one in the backwater town in which Malcolm has returned to handles the public appearance of fae magic particularly well, much less the three parallel storylines available to the reader between Jessie, Marion, and Grace. If anything, the most unreasonable reactions come from the player themselves, in how flippant or otherwise easygoing they handle changes happening to the people around them. That said, many decisions have a snowballing / weighted effect that can change plot directions far later on than one might expect, leading to fallings-out with friends and family, or worse.

But then something strange happened to me, as a reader, while working my way through these split storylines. Core messages seemed to stick out to me, interwoven among the stories. But they cut me straight to the core as a person; after finishing all 3 major storylines I was left shaking and bleary-eyed, wishing events could have turned out differently, desperately trying to reject the messages that had been suggested despite knowing deep-down that they were right.

"Be the best you that you can be."

"Encourage people to chase their dreams, but make sure you're pursuing your dream too."

"Sometimes peoples' dreams are irreconcilable with one another. That doesn't mean the love is gone, it just means that it isn't fair to either person."

"The size of the dream does not diminish its value; the holder of the dream determines its value."

(I intentionally omitted the storyline associations I would make)

When I held all of these thoughts together, an emotional dam burst in my heart. For years I never considered myself as having dreams or goals. For years I felt kind of confused and wondering if what I was doing mattered, or had worth. But somehow, a visual novel about fae shenanigans that dances alongside a transformation kink broadsides me with the realization that I AM where I want to be, doing what I am doing. I have a family who l love and loves me back. I am not pursuing a dream; rather, I am cultivating and maintaining a dream I have already attained. I am doing what is important to me and my family, and even if I'm not changing the world around me and leaving a name in the history books, I know that I am here and directly affecting the lives of those around me, and I'm not sure what more I could want for at this very moment.

And for the first time in quite a while, I feel content and satisfied.

#visual novel #changeling tale #catharsis #mice tea #scalie #furry #visual novel review

[cha-melodius]

Do you have a fic (either yours or someone else’s) that you just always go back to, that you love every single word of, that lives rent free in your head?

(Trying to get more rwrb fic recs)

I sat on this a few days to think about it, because this is so tough to narrow down. Little bits of lots of fics live in my head, but I'm going to be honest and say I haven't reread many RWRB fics because the fandom is just so active (even before the movie), there are tons of new fics coming out all the time. That said, here's a few that have definitely stuck with me. Also I'm trying not to rec fics I've seen repeatedly mention as must-reads for people new to the fandom. Very non-comprehensive, and I had to cut myself off.

Before I do my list, here is my fic rec tag on my blog (also 'fic recs' because apparently I'm inconsistent), which lately is mostly RWRB fics. Also, check out the @rwrbficrecs blog, which is full of great lists!

to the victor, the spoils by @rmd-writes Lawyer AU, this was the fic I thought of first because I think, of all RWRB fics, this one lives rent free in my head the most.

Screw Your Courage to the Sticking Place (and forget macbeth is a fucking tragedy) by @celaestis1 Canon-divergent, they break up at Kensington, hurts-so-good angst. The end of chapter 11 still haunts me.

Déjame Ver Cómo Es Que Floreces by @14carrotghoul Post-canon, Henry meets Alex's extended family, just pure joy. Also includes my favorite food-as-a-metaphor-for-love trope.

The Perils of Midsomer Residency by @clottedcreamfudge Murder mystery AU, Alex as a detective, hits every beat (when does Hattie not?).

Down For the Count by @welcometololaland Ok this is a deeper cut for sure, but I think about this unusual AU (card counter Alex and poker player Henry in Vegas) a lot.

We’ll Invite Something In by @smc-27 Canon-divergent future fic feat. President Alex and Prince Henry, the buildup of their relationship is so delicious.

Let Loose Your Glow by @athousandrooms College AU, sweet and soft and utterly delightful.

#rwrb #red white and blue #rwrb fic recs #fic recs #fic rec #firstprince #alex claremont diaz #henry fox mountchristen windsor

[strangersmunsons]

down on skid row

you’ve been seeing Eddie for a while. he likes taking you to the movies.

Contains: Eddie x Reader, meet-cute in the breakfast aisle, Eddie’s got a penchant for drive-in movie dates & convenience store munchies. No use of y/n, no description of reader’s appearance. Leans fem!reader, but can be read as GN, I think. (If not, just lmk and I'll change the tags!) Warnings: mentions of food and eating. Word Count: 2k so i have a few longer WIPs that i’ve been working on for months that are still not finished (@ people who can pump out like 10k-word fics on a weekly basis…how do you guys do this) so i thought i’d post something short & sweet in the meantime. i know it’s only june, but i’m craving a cozy fall night with my fictional bf, okay?

It’s the middle of October. Dry leaves scuttle across the pavement in the breeze, dancing over your feet as you walk past the shops lining the Hawkins main drag, the setting sun washing everything in golden autumn light. Window fronts are decked out with pumpkins and twinkling orange bulbs, paper cutouts of bats and smiling cartoon ghosts. Even though you’re running late, you can’t help but slow your pace, stopping to admire the establishments that are particularly dedicated to celebrating the upcoming holiday.

Your shift working at the public library just ended after an impossibly slow day. Two librarians and three assistants were on the clock, which was certainly more than enough to handle the grand total of seven people that came in, but Marissa was a stickler for attendance. She refused to cut any of the employees loose, no matter how many pointed comments your gum-snapping coworker made about the lack of visitors.

It was hard to be too annoyed about it, though. It was peaceful in the quiet. Being surrounded by tall wooden shelves full of books with that lovely, earthy perfume, was very soothing to you.

There had also been a brief but enjoyable interlude from Dustin Henderson who, out of all of Eddie’s younger friends, was by far your favorite. He was looking for test-prep books in anticipation of the AP exams he’d be taking in the spring, but spent most of his time talking your ear off about the Dungeons and Dragons one-shot he was planning under Eddie’s tutelage. He said goodbye to you with a wave and the sunniest smile you’ve ever seen, and you continued to find it very hard to believe Eddie’s insistence that ‘Henderson is such a little shit,’ a declaration usually accompanied by a hmmph! and a dramatic eye roll.

You’re pretty sure he’s Eddie’s favorite, too. 

Eddie. Just thinking of him made your lips curl up in an involuntary smile. You bring your hand to your face, trying to hide your giddy look from the passersby.

It’s been about four months since you met during a chance encounter at Bradley’s Big Buy. 

You had been struggling to reach a box of Cinnamon Toast Crunch on the top shelf in the cereal aisle, even going so far as to do a little jump in your effort to reach it, but your fingertips just barely brushed against the cardboard. With a huff, you stood on the very tips of your toes, and stretched your arms as far as they could go, but your digits simply wiggled uselessly in the air, not reaching anything further than the cool metal ledge.

“Need a hand with that?”

You turned to face your savior, grateful albeit a little sheepish upon realizing that someone had bore witness to your utter desperation for sugar-coated rectangles. You became about ten times more flustered when you found yourself staring into the most outrageously pretty brown eyes you’ve ever seen.

“I’m more of a Honeycomb guy myself, to be honest,” he said as he planted one foot on a low, empty shelf to give himself a boost. He grabbed the elusive box with ease and placed it in your cart.

After procuring your breakfast for you, Eddie tagged along for the rest of your shopping trip. He chatted you up through produce, past the bakery, and by the time you made it to the freezer aisle, well – you dug around in your purse for a pen and, at his request, scrawled your number on his forearm, right below a cluster of scratchy bat tattoos.

A week later he took you to a movie, but not to The Hawk in the townsquare or the Starcourt Cinema like you expected. No, Eddie kept it old-school. He drove a little ways past the busy part of town, past the Hess Farm, to the empty field where the local drive-in theater was located. You were pleasantly surprised; drive-ins seemed to be falling a bit out of vogue lately, and you could hardly remember the last time you’d been.

You saw a Beetlejuice and Poltergeist III double-feature, and over the course of two films, Eddie spilled an entire bag of popcorn on the ground mere seconds after buying it; nearly choked to death on a single Raisinet; and on his way back from the restroom, got lost in the sea of cars for a grand total of eight minutes.

You’ve never been so immediately attracted to someone. He was so funny, and so sweet, and so entirely himself. It was the best date you’ve ever been on.

Since then, the drive-in has sort of become your thing. 

You check your watch; it’s nearly seven. The sun is sinking more rapidly now, and the shadows are growing longer. You bundle your jacket around you a little tighter against the twilight breeze, and pick up the pace.

Eventually you stumble through your front door, tossing your purse on the entry table, and rush to your bedroom to change into something more comfortable and date-appropriate. Itchy blouse and sensible slacks begone. You dress in the outfit you picked out last night, and quickly give yourself a once-over, touching up your hair and face just the way you like it. A final spritz of your favorite perfume, and you feel as fresh and pretty as can be.

There’s a rapid knock at the front door.

Perfect timing.

“It’s open!”

Moments later, Eddie appears, lingering in your bedroom doorway, looking perfect. He’s wearing a black pullover sweater that you bought for him, lightwash jeans – an unusual choice for him – and his favorite sneakers. The corners of his full, pink lips tug upwards in a smile as he watches you adjust an earring at your vanity. “Hey, sweetheart.”

“Hi, Teddy.”

He appears behind you in the mirror and wraps his arms around your waist. “I missed you today.” He pecks your cheek lightly, and moves lower, so he can nose at the skin of your neck, inhaling your sweet smell. With a contented sigh, he straightens back up, and meets your gaze in the reflected glass. “You almost ready?”

“Yes.” You beam at him. “I missed you too.”

“Well,” he says, relinquishing his hold to just one arm, so he can pull you with him as he heads out of the room, “if that’s the case, then let’s not waste any more time.”

What Eddie lacks in game, he makes up for in chivalry. He escorts you all the way to the passenger side of his van, opens the door for you and helps you climb in. He doesn’t let go of your hand until you’re settled back in your seat. 

You relax into the soft blue cushion while Eddie rotates through radio stations, nose wrinkled in distaste as he skips past each pop and new wave song that he hears. Finally settling on an old Van Halen tune, he rests his now-free hand on your leg, rubbing little circles into your thigh with his thumb. He casts you a hopeful sideways glance.

“I know the movie’s starting soon, but do you think we have time to stop at 7-Eleven?”

You know exactly where his head is at. “We always have time to stop at 7-Eleven.”

Eddie juggles an armload of snacks behind you at the Slurpee Machine.

“What flavor do you want, bub?”

“Umm, cherry, please. Wait. Coke. I don’t know. Hold on.” He pauses. “Coke or cherry…cherry or coke…coke or cherry…,” he trails off, voice fading to a whisper as he mulls over this incredibly important decision.

“I’ve got a coke already,” you tell him kindly. “Why don’t you get cherry, and then I promise you can have as much of mine as you want.”

He lets out a sigh of relief so huge you’d think you just solved a life or death dilemma for him. “Thank you, sweetheart. Truly, I don’t know what I did before you came along.” You wave him off, pretending like his affectionate teasing doesn’t set your heart aflutter.

“So I was thinking –” he shifts the horde of crinkling bags around before he can lose any, “maybe Cheetos? Because I think we got the pretzels last time. Or we can get the salt and vinegar chips, if you want.”

“Cheetos sound good to me. But I think I want to get something sweet, too.” You look down at the two Slurpees clutched in your hands, frowning slightly. “You know, that isn’t the big cup of sugar ice I just made for myself.”

Eddie laughs loudly. “You can have whatever you want,” he promises.

There’s a large, hand-painted sign at the entrance to the parking lot, embossed with bright orange letters and sitting slightly askew on its stake. 

HAWKINS DRIVE-IN THEATER SPECIAL OCTOBER SALE Discount Horror Films Weekly, All Tickets Half-Price Happy Halloween!

Luckily, the film has yet to start when Eddie pulls into a parking space in the middle of the lot. He jumps out of his seat, excitement building, and opens up the van’s back doors, revealing a large pile of soft, worn blankets, and several pillows from Eddie’s place that you’ve come to know very well.

You help him unfurl all the bedding and spread them out in layers over the interior, orienting the pillows on top so the trunk becomes one big, cozy, makeshift bed. The pile of junk food sits off to the side.

The blankets smell like Eddie. They’re all clean and soapy-smelling, with a hint of tobacco and spice from the drugstore cologne he wears. You slip your jacket off despite the cool temperature, and drape the remaining blanket over both yours and Eddie’s shoulders, bundling the two of you up against chilly fall night. He slips an arm around you, pulling you close into his side.

“Warm enough?” he asks.

“Mm-hmm,” you nod, cuddling into his shoulder.

He rests his cheek on the top of your head. “It’s getting cold out. This’ll probably be our last night here for a while. I’ll have to start taking you to”– he gulps loudly –“Starcourt Cinema. God help us!”

Eddie’s dramatics are nothing new to you, but you can’t help giggling anyway. “Don’t lie. I know you secretly love it there.”

“You know no such thing.”

You actually do know such a thing. He likes the music store and riding the escalator and Hot Dog on a Stick. But you digress.

The two of you lapse into a comfortable silence. It’s fully dark now, and the moon is glowing luminously against the inky sky. The wind picks up, and the thick line of trees behind the giant silver screen begin to rustle with the force of it. It’s a gorgeous night, and Eddie is warm next to you. You think you could do this with him forever.

Not one to stay quiet, it’s not long before Eddie pipes up again. “You know, I’m glad you’re not opposed to gas station snacks, because I still can’t show my face at the concession stand.”

“Oh, Teddy, people drop things all the time. No one cared.”

“Says you.” Maybe you can’t see it, but you can certainly hear the pout in his voice.

A rush of affection floods your chest. You push back a sheaf of thick curls, and press an indulgent little kiss to the pale skin below his ear.

A loud drumroll suddenly bursts from the speakers, snapping you both out of your reverie. The screen has become alight with a starry night sky. The gray logo of the production company hovers in the center, and is quickly replaced with the green text of the opening credits, accompanied by a musical fanfare.

“On the twenty-third day of the month of September, in an early year of a decade not too long before our own…” 

Eddie shifts his body with you in tow so you’re both reclining comfortably against the pillows. “I love this one,” you whisper. “I know it’s not scary like Texas Chainsaw or whatever, but I’m glad they decided to show it.”

“Yeah, I saw the flier at Melvald’s and thought of you. I thought you’d enjoy seeing it like this.”

“Thank you for thinking of me.”

“I never stop.”

thank you for reading bbs! xoxo

#eddie munson #eddie munson fanfiction #eddie munson fanfic #eddie munson imagine #eddie munson oneshot #eddie munson fluff #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson x you #eddie munson x y/n #eddie munson x female reader #eddie munson x gender neutral reader #eddie munson x fem!reader #eddie munson x gn!reader #stranger things fanfiction #stranger things eddie

[ablobwhowrites]

Can I send a Splatoon request (m/n) is a Octoling male idol and everyone is crazy yandere for him.anything about him will be gone in seconds, like (m/n) merch gone,concert tickets sold out etc..

Life is good, being apart of deep cut after marina and pearls final splatfest. M/n was the fourth member of the deep cut as he was friends with bigman and he was able to get m/n in the group plus shiver and frye loved having m/n around. Having a unique made m/n stand out a lot like with his hair being similar to Marina's but just more short like her old hair style. Plus luckily everyone thought m/n wears some kind of eyeliner and many things about him being different than other octolings on the surface but shiver tells everyone that m/n is just a different species of octolings probably from another city away from here.

M/n sighed after the camera turned off for today as the director yelled "all right everyone where on commercial break!" Frye looked at m/n seeing him look down a bit "you okay m/n? Your not all happy like you are usually" frye said looking to him as shiver looked at frye then m/n as m/n quickly sat up straight "oh! Nothing, just thinking about things really. Just woke up on the wrong side of bed" he laughed a bit trying not to worry the three "well you can tell use anything if you need anything off your chest" big man said with the screen he holds turns off for now as m/n sat there in silence for a few seconds "no I'm good....just going to go to the bathroom" m/n said as he got off the stage and walked away to backstage into the hall, but not going it the bathroom but just leans on the wall and going in his phone.

Then when to splatagram (work with me here, I don't know many Splatoon canon apps) many post of some ads, inklings showing off food at restaurants or food trucks, but then m/n stops scrolling and sees a tag that caused m/n to raise his brow "fanclub? I didn't know I had a fan club....I thought shiver, frye and bigman or anyone else had fanclubs.." he said to himself as soon as he clicked the tag, a boat load of post ranging from inklings to octolings even others from far away not even in this city. It was terrifying to m/n seeing so many things about him and the merch that he didn't even know existed of him, plushies, shirts, pants, hats, figures and so much more "I never made these brand deals?! How is there so many!" M/n then was panicking not from the people who loves him cause he just tried to make himself thing it's just everyone supporting him, even making himself think it was all just a phase everyone was going through a obsessive phase but the slim chance that dj Octavia could find this, he could get kidnapped like Callie that one time, he could be brainwashed, so many terrible thoughts run through his head thinking of so many things that could happen if he was found out, would he be sanitized? Just like all his friends to be his mindless killing machine if he's taken back? M/n screamed as he felt something touch his shoulder as he quickly turned to see who was it that spooked him so bad and it was just the jellyfish intern "mr.m/n, where about to come back on soon" the intern said as m/n's heart was still racing "right...right, tell them I'll be there just give me a bit to um...just get myself ready" m/n told the intern as they nodded and walked back to the studio to tell them which has m/n all alone again "your just paranoid, nothing bad can happen...dj Octavia won't know, even if he does marina is a long ways from here so she's safe and Octavia wouldn't do something that ambitious" m/n said to himself as he turned off his phone and walked back to the studio with his head held up high hoping this might be a good week or even a good year.

"sir! We found something you might like" a elite octoling said as she held what looked like a small keychain, it was shiny and had the picture of m/n on it, in pastel colors seeming happy with the other side having his 'friends' all with him and all looking happy, DJ Octavia was silent, he was taking in the details of this keychain pictures "m/n is on the surface...just how marina is" Dj Octavia said as he took the keychain onto his tentacle and examined it, the underground felt so empty without m/n around. The small splats of colors on the walls or just anything that was colorful he could put anywhere, the small city's of the octarian underground loved the small splats of colors, any kind it made the underground feel less gloomy but after DJ Octavia's defeat in inkoplis and that damned squid sisters music that Octavia hated so much, salt in this wound those agents gave him taking away power to the city and then now this, Octavia felt humiliated that the only octoling soldier that made the situation of the octarians being under ground feel a bit less gloomy and just less of a hell hole was on the surface cause of the now lazy inklings and the octoings that managed to get on the surface now having audacity to rub this in his face just saying to Octavia that m/n was theirs now, it made Octavia livid that his m/n and only his m/n is now on the surface, his tentacle gripped the keychain in his tentacle until a crack was formed on the sides and his grip loosened. His gaze goes back to the elite octoling soldier "bring m/n back here, no matter who you have to hurt, no matter what you have to do, bring m/n back here" Octavia said the soldier nodded and was about to go get some of the other octolings to get ready for this mission "wait, take this" Octavia handed the soldier a pair of glasses, the same ones callie had on when she was kidnapped here "it'll make it more simple but these ones will make sure m/n won't be able to fight back so easily" Octavia said as then he waved his tentacle to dismiss the soldier, the elite octoling walked out to tell her team the new mission now with the hypno glasses in hand...to be continued

(I hope this is good, I've been trying to work on my writing more)

#yandere male x male reader #yandere x male reader #mystery yanderes #mystery yandere #yandere x reader #yandere x oc #yandere x you #yandere x y/n #yandere splatoon #yandere splatoon 3 #yandere splatoon 2 #yandere splatoon 1 #yandere idols #yandere characters #x male reader #male reader #splatoon 3 #splatoon squid sisters #splatoon community #splatoon 2 #splat3 #splatoon

[fixing-bad-posts]

I looked around and didn't see anything about this on your blog but I apologize if I missed it.

I was wondering, what does doing the work behind this blog...feel like? I guess what I'm asking is if it does anything to you. Like, I had a thought. For a flash, I imagined you as Butters from South Park in that episode where he is tasked with filtering out all the negative comments on Cartman's social media. It ended up really messing with Butters, what with him having to see all that negativity.

You're definitely not being affected to that extreme, I assume, but I wonder if you would have anything to say about the process of finding these negative posts and reading them several times to edit them. Has it exposed you to unpleasantness that you wouldn't have otherwise seen? Or is there perhaps a kind of catharsis in editing such filth?

I'm making a lot of assumptions here. Maybe I'm also asking about your process. I just think what you're doing is neat and would love to hear about your experience with it.

Thanks for reading and I hope you have plenty of reasons to feel joy <3

oh boy, i love talking about myself haha—so thank you for giving me an excuse to do so! i have answered similar questions in the past, though never at length. every once in a while, someone pops into the inbox to ask about my mental health (which, rest assured, is just fine—i don’t put this blog’s operation above anything; it’s honestly pretty low on my list of life-priorities), and it’s always quite sweet. having a mob of strangers following one’s sideblog has its perks: one being that sometimes parasociality results in some well wishes, kind thoughts, and general goodwill. which is very nice, and probably an unearned vanity-boost for my ego.

what does the work behind this blog feel like? in turns: mundane, challenging, vindicating, annoying, amusing… and probably other things that i’m forgetting. most of the work i do on this blog is actually me procrastinating! i am a certified adult with a job™, and i’m definitely guilty of slacking off at work sometimes to queue posts submissions from my inbox, which is more fun than like… proofreading financial documents and making spreadsheets. other times, i’m sitting in a café with my partner, and allegedly i’m “writing” fanfiction. but, uh, if you know any writers, you know that sometimes “writing” means, ‘looking at a blinking cursor’. so it’s in those moments that i open up tumblr and start writing image descriptions and adding tags to prep posts for my queue. that’s mainly when the blog feels mundane.

something that i think helps me avoid negative doomscroll-spirals is that i don’t actively seek out bad posts for this blog. being a citizen of the internet delivers fodder to me naturally. that, and running a semi-popular sideblog on tumblr. when i see a bad post in the wild, that’s when the feeling is annoying/challenging. challenging, because ever since starting this sideblog, hateful posts don’t feel as vicious to me. once i see them, they stop being posts and turn into word-puzzles. and i love word puzzles!

solving the word puzzle is amusing for me, as is getting to look at my resulting “blackout poem.” it makes me laugh, it stretches my brain. when i started, i used to have to read a post several times to find the ‘good post within the bad post’ so to speak. these days, i’m so used to it, i barely read the bad posts more than a handful of times. but as i was saying to my partner, one of the reasons i love found poetry (erasure poetry, and cut-up poetry) is that it uses the same part of my brain that loves scrabble (the board game). then, of course, it's vindicating to see my posts get so many notes, sometimes surpassing the original bad post. that's more of my own vanity, i'm sure.

as for the last part of your message: yes, i have plenty of reasons to feel joy. i work with people who respect me, i live walking distance from a bubble tea café, and have friends and family whom i love. i have the good fortune to be safely out as a queer person. i’m a fanbinder. i’m currently working on a long fanfiction which is getting some very nice comments on ao3. and i’ve recently decided to become a poet (like, for real).

i must admit, i’m fascinated by how you imagine me. i often wonder how i am perceived, especially because i keep many cards close to my chest here on my sideblog.

anyhow, thank you for this excuse to ramble about myself and the process of running this blog. i hope you also have plenty of reasons to feel joy 💛

#what are your headcanons about me i'm so curious #ask fbp #ittybittykittyfingers