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justporo · 3 days

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Back Under the Weeping Willow

Brimsterton | A Staevstarion Regency AU

A/N: So we kind of all had a collective feverdream on a Discord server and what came from it was this Astarion x Staeve Regency AU - namely Brimsterton. Much of this originated when we went ham on the server and ping-ponged ideas around. So, many of these ideas were a collective effort with credit specifically going to @somewhatclear @silmaryel and @astarions-pervert-goth-wife. Thank you guys, mwa! That was so much fun. And ofc also big thanks to @velnna who keeps letting me play with his blorbo. Staeve is my favourite barbie doll! <3 Will I ever come back to this? We will see... ~~~ Summary: Astarion Ancunín, only heir to his family's estate and name, finds himself back in his hometown. Suddenly Duke after his parents untimely demise duty demands he takes matters in his own hands and goes towards an unsure future. But back home is still the same: the same old people, the same old fields. The same old memories, the same old yearning as he meets his childhood friend Staeve again - the reason why he left in the first place all these years ago.

Pairing: Astarion/Staeve Wordcount: 1,7k Warnings: mention of character death

The message about his parent’s death had reached Astarion through a courier letter as he had been attending a social gathering. A disease had withered them away more quickly than anyone could’ve had believed. He was duke now. He now owned the estate.

He’d read the words. And a second time and a third. Then he had excused himself without further words and had gone home to pack.

Had someone observed him they would have probably only thought he’d encountered a mild inconvenience. Nothing of consequence really.

And Astarion would have preferred it if had been nothing but a minor inconvenience. That he didn’t have to return to his hometown, to his parents’ - no his - estate now.

But duty demanded it. And duty, in the end, had always been the master that the young duke had bowed to.

On the inside though, conflicting emotions had been wreaking havoc: a certain sadness about all of this, surely, but more than that fear, concern, lodging below his ribs.

But deeper another thing entirely had reared its head: a spark of yearning suddenly being reignited, that he thought had gone cold a long time ago. Almost ten years ago, to be exact.

But as he had quickly arranged for everything to be packed up, a carriage to be sent and for a message to be delivered to a friend to hopefully accompany him on this trip that was bound to become a disaster, he felt his mind preoccupied not with thoughts of mourning. He had barely remembered to request for his all black attire to be laid out for him as visions of forest green hair, teal eyes and that wicked grin flashed through his mind - long past, but surely not forgotten. Never forgotten.

And with memories of old clouding his mind, he had begun his journey towards home - and an unsure future.

Coming home had hurt.

Not merely because of the harsh reality of Astarion’s parents' untimely end. Because this was obviously all very tragic and unfortunate of course.

But in truth he had been estranged from his parents for as long as he could remember. And it had gotten worse over the ten years he had been spending apart from them - and there. Scarce letters had been his only bridge to a past he usually tried to forget.

The real pain though, as the carriage rattled down the rough roads to his past home, had lingered in how everything was still the same.

The same flower fields being turned into grassy seas of green speckled with colour by the wind rushing through them. The same rocks the carriage’s axle struggled not to break under. The same sky painted grey with a storm that might or might not come. The same small town, the same houses, the same ancient weeping willow up on the hill.

The same people.

The same memories.

The same pain pestering him as his hometown came into view after the same final turn of the road.

The same ache he had felt when leaving all those years ago.

Not even Jenevelle accompanying him and laying a calming hand on his knee as Astarion had kept staring out of the carriage window, with his arm propped up and his hand pressed to his cheek, had been able to soothe this particular pain.

Stoically, he had carried on, just the same.

He’d been welcomed at the Ancunín estate with everyone of the staff wearing black and sullen faces. All of them had waited in a line before the manor. Awaiting the new duke with heavy, grieving hearts.

And word of the young duke returning home must’ve had travelled fast because almost immediately after he had received the staff’s condolences, shaking everyone’s hands and exchanging the customary friendly words and sad smiles, people from town had made visits.

There had been more handshakes, eyes full of understanding, even some tears had shed and Astarion’s shoulder patted more often than he would have liked. And even a few confused glances as people noticed his company of a young fair haired woman without the accompanying rings on either of their hands. But at least the shock about his parents’ untimely demise and the grief laying on the whole place like a sheet had spared him the judgement.

It hadn’t spared him of people coddling him though.

So now here he was at a small get-together at someone else’s estate. Having been pushed to attend because visitors had felt guilty about leaving the mourning man alone at this giant estate where everything must be reminding him of the family he had just lost.

Astarion would have much rather stayed at the Ancunín estate. But he couldn’t have exactly told anyone that. Not when polite and caring invitations had been made - and duty demanded of him to kindly take them up on it.

Unfortunately, the small get-together had also turned out to be a not small at all ball. People were dancing and drinking. And then quickly hiding their smiles behind their hands, putting on masks of sadness and concern as soon as they spotted him.

The evening had been filled with more people crowding around Astarion, grabbing his hand to offer him words of support and understanding or a story about his parents he had to pretend he hadn’t heard a million times yet.

Finally, after Astarion had badly mimicked almost breaking into tears after having been told the same story of how his parents had organised that one particular ball, everyone in town still remembered, for the fourth time in a row, he had been left alone. And thankfully even Jenevelle had, after throwing him another asking look, just went to explore the event on her own.

Now the young duke was sitting in a corner alone, holding on to what was now his third cup of wine, as he observed the couples turning on the dancefloor. He watched through people passing by and obnoxious, incredibly pretentious and tasteless low hanging palm leafs from trees that had been placed everywhere. At least they also provided for a nice and rather hidden corner where Astarion had fled so as to not be approached by griefing townsfolk anymore.

Cheerful dance music drifted through the air and the sweet smell of spring flower bouquets filled the massive room as gauzy skirts in all kinds of pastel colours swished over the floors with young ladies smiling coyly and young men nearly falling at their feet for just one of those smiles.

Even as Astarion found himself not as closely moved by grief as people expected him to be, he found it all abhorrent.

It were the same tasteless people with their same tiny mindsets only reaching from here to the next bigger city and their same annoying and boring soirees.

There had only ever been the one person who had made this place interesting.

Astarion downed the rest of the wine in one big gulp and got up to grab another one while wondering how much longer he would need to stay for it to not be considered rude.

He spotted a servant with a silver tray carrying new drinks in crystal glasses - unfortunately almost on the other side of the room. With a curse under his breath he began moving through the crowd, his head held low to avoid eye contact and more people feeling the need to talk to him, reach for him, console him.

As he passed the edge of the dancefloor he made the mistake of looking up and across the dancefloor where couples were still happily moving in endless twists and turns.

And found the sight he’d been fearing most for. Or yearning for. Astarion really wasn’t quite sure.

On the other side of the dancefloor stood the inspiration and source for those pictures and memories plaguing him since he had sat down in that carriage travelling here. And that ache. And that longing.

The trillering joyful music drifting through the air suddenly seemed muted, time almost slowed down as all those images suddenly came together all at once.

He looked almost like he remembered - the only thing he was not mad about for being the same.

Long dark green hair messily tied back, clothes fine but just a tad dishevelled as to let everyone around know that he wasn’t just like everyone else around. That he didn’t fear to be a little rough around the edges. Teal and black eyes were glinting just as vividly as in Astarion’s memories as he was talking to some lady and lazily holding his cup of wine by the rim.

And then there was his smile. That wicked smile curling up the corners of his lips as he listened to his companion talk.

The freckles on his dark skin had gotten a little more intense and plenty, Astarion could immediately tell. They suited him just as nicely though as they had back then. There were a few lines around his mouth and eyes now and his face just a little leaner, having lost the softness and immaturity of youth in the flesh. But - as Astarion kept being transfixed by watching him - not his manners or his mind it looked like.

Staeve.

Almost all the same.

As were Astarion’s emotions, finally having torn themselves free from below the worry and the fear. The twinge of longing setting his chest ablaze, threatening to let him burn up right on the spot. His heart began to thunder and his hands still clutching the goblet started to tremble as he stood there rooted in place and beholding the sight of the man that had made him leave his home so many years ago.

Then Staeve’s expression changed. Eyebrows drew together and his eyes darted to the side. As if he had caught on that he was being watched. His head flew around, probably rudely interrupting his date’s words and immediately spotting Astarion.

The young duke immediately felt the heat spread to his cheeks and he hastily tried to turn away as if nothing had happened.

But Staeve didn’t even waste a heartbeat to smile at him, deepening the lines around his mouth and eyes even further. The moment drew out between two heartbeats, feeling endless, as they laid eyes upon each other after ten years apart.

Then Staeve lifted his cup in greeting - as if it had only been yesterday.

And only then did Astarion feel that he had returned home.

#astarion #baldur's gate 3 #astarion ancunin #bg3 spoilers #fanfiction #astarion x tav #staeve #astarion x staeve #drabble #bg3 #brimsterton #staevstarion

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readingcoco · 6 months

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Hello Red Dead Fanfic Authors!

I want to throw my cowboy hat into the ring and offer my (free) services as a beta/alpha reader!

In my professional (non-smut-loving, long-fic-adoring, blorbo-obsessing) life, I am a full-time television script editor and story consultant and have been for the past 6 years. If these terms are new to you, it basically means my job is to work closely with writers and provide both proofreading and creative feedback, but mainly the latter. Screenwriting is obviously a completely different medium but there is a ton of crossover, and I would LOVE to support writers within the community who were looking for a beta/alpha reader to work alongside.

I am between jobs at the moment (as the entire TV industry is on fire🔥) which means I have a ton of free time and an itch to channel my creativity into characters and a world I am super passionate about!

Things I could help you with:

🌵 Proofreading

🤠 Research

🌸 Character consistency, motivations and voice

🌵 Brainstorming

🤠 Plotting

🌸 And generally, being in your corner cheering you on when you can't bear to look at your laptop anymore!

I will work on:

🌵 Long fics & One shots.

🤠 M/E rated fics are preferred, but equally, if it's beautifully tragic and will make me cry, then I'm all yours.

🌸 I am comfortable working on the majority of character pairings, including some of the more contentious ones, as long as I can buy your approach to the dynamic, character motivations and underlying psychology at play.

🌵X reader & OCs.

🤠Both the canonical period setting & Modern AUs.

🌸 And a bunch more stuff it's probably easier to dm about.

I am not the beta reader for you if:

🌵 You are under the age of 18.

🤠 Your fic is set in the omegaverse. It's not that it squicks me out, but it's not my favourite, and as such, I don't think I have read enough of it to be much help.

If you have never worked with a beta/alpha reader before but are interested in learning more about it then @theirprofoundbond has an amazing guide on Ao3 that runs through all the different ways working with a beta/alpha can work and help you with your writing.

#rdr2 #arthur morgan #red dead redemption 2 #rdr2 community #red dead redemption #red dead redemption community #rdr2 fandom #red dead redemption fanfic #arthur morgan x reader #beta reader #alpha reader

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thechaoticfanartist · 4 months

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Writer 20 Questions

Thank you for the tag @ninjasawakenedmystar !!

1. How many works do you have on AO3?

2. What’s your total AO3 word count?

278,714. TCWGANV definitely takes the bulk of that.

3. What fandoms do you write for?

Mainly Star Wars but I have written a few Undertale fics as well.

4. What are your top five fics by kudos?

1) The Clone Wars Gets A New Victim

2) our last goodbye

3) i changed to save you (but i was too late)

4) quiet fire

5) The Red Scarf

5. Do you respond to comments? Why or why not?

I try my best too but sometimes I get just overwhelmed with happiness and can't figure out a way to word a response.

6. What’s the fic you wrote with the angstiest ending?

Without going through all my fics I just want to say TCWGANV because it hasn't failed to make me cry and I wrote the ending to it almost two years ago now. However the ending is probably a lot more bittersweet than angsty. So it would probably be one will die (before he gets there)

7. What’s the fic you wrote with the happiest ending?

A Happy Ending For Everyone (Except Palpatine)

Which is an old fic but I barely write happy stories 😅

8. Do you get hate on your fic?

Yes. I've gotten hate for TCWGANV and our last goodbye. Most of the hate goes for TCWGANV though, which is especially aimed at Grim. Who has of course, gotten hate outside of my fics with her.

9. Do you write smut?

No.

10. Do you write crossovers?

I have a couple Star Wars x Undertale crossover fics. I actually recently decided to redo the entire AU awhile ago but never finished the concept art for it. Here's my togruta Toriel design for this AU actually:

11. Have you ever had a fic stolen?

Not that I'm aware of fortunately.

12. Have you ever had a fic translated?

No I haven't. It would be cool if someone did translate one of my fics though.

13. Have you ever co-written a fic?

I have not, and although it could be interesting, I think I'd end up getting stuck with how I saw the story going.

14. What‘s your all-time favourite ship?

I'm not going to lie probably grimsoka.

15. What’s the WIP you want to finish but doubt you ever will?

That's actually probably a good portion of my WIPs. Soldier In Peacetimes was an interesting Time Travel AU though that could have a nice ending if I ever got back to it.

16. What’s your writing strengths?

Definitely dialogue! Although I would also say probably just scenes that really dive into a character's emotional pain as well. I love hurting my blorbos <3

17. What’s your writing weaknesses?

Describing what a character looks like. I know I don't have to do that for the majority of canon characters but I rarely, if ever, describe what Grim looks like 😭

18. Thoughts on writing dialogue in another language for a fic?

I think it depends on the fic tbh. I haven't really done this before. Except now I'm struggling in ALATL because of the beginning of Return Of The Jedi and all the huttese.

19. First fandom you wrote for?

Undertale! (Although this was before I had A03)

20. Favourite fic you’ve ever written?

The Clone Wars Gets A New Victim. I think it's always going to have a special place in my heart. It's my longest fic and was the first time I really finished a multichapter story. I don't think even As Long As There's Light is going to replace TCWGANV in my heart.

I'm tagging: @jedi-valjean @jgvfhl @shrinkthisviolet @veradragonjedi @darth-caillic and anyone else who wants to do this!

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philtstone · 1 year

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Arunmozhi & Nandini smile

after 2 months of being too mentally exhausted to write anything i produce this in 3 days .... sometimes i impress even myself if the words "modern road trip fix it au" make sense all together in a sentence, that's what this is. sorry 2 all the mutuals who have not watched six hours of convoluted 10th century south indian soap opera historical epic tragic romance adventure story. but also you should do that, so we can all adopt new and delightfully insane blorbos together. also: this is not meant to be serious. which means the geography is a mess. apologies in advance.

“… so what is it? Two rooms or three? I can’t keep asking this front desk idiot questions, his little head will explode from all the brain power needed to answer.”

Arunmozhi wishes he hadn’t misplaced his favourite bucket hat back in Kodaikkarai. The sun is hot and directly on his head, which makes it harder to focus on the dual task of listening to the person on the phone, and keeping track of the debacle that has developed by the Pazhaiyarai route gas station bathroom, the door of which Kundavai is still attempting to lecture through.

“Well,” he says. “You’ll have to give me a minute to think about it. Something of a situation has developed.”

He has known Poonguzhali for just long enough that he can tell by the sound of her breathing how she feels about something. Now, for example, it comes across as distinctly suspicious across the mobile connection.

“Why do I get the feeling this was an entirely predictable situation,” she says.

Arunmozhi admits this might be true, though not aloud.

“The rooms, Madam Detective.”

“Look, it’s either one room with two beds or two rooms with one bed each. Idiots! You’d think they’d have three rooms available! No one but us wants to stay in this dump, I bet. Only a man such as this one would think so highly of himself to presume he had clientele.”

There is the faint sound of an older male voice protesting over the line.

“Even we don’t want to stay in this dump,” says Arunmozhi pleasantly, at the same time Poonguzhali deems it fit to remind him in a declarative voice, “I’m a private investigator, you know, not a miracle worker!“

He’s waylaid in coming up with a fun and possibly clever response because Kundavai has reached such a point of despair in her lecturing that she turns away from the locked bathroom door, pins her flashing eyes on Arunmozhi, and says,

“Tell your idiot brother to unlock the bloody door!”

Arunmozhi grimaces. Aditha is only ever his idiot brother when circumstances are truly clownish. Most of the rest of the time Kundavai is content enough to claim ownership of the both of them, no matter how useless she thinks they are being.

“Here,” he mutters sheepishly into the phone. “Talk to Vandiyadevan for a moment, I’ve got to deal with something.”

He hands over the phone to Vandiyadevan before either party can protest.

Then he surveys The Situation.

They are at a gas station on the road to Thanjavur, one of those with nothing but the gas and a little snack stand and yellow dust masquerading as the road. There are clucking chickens in front of the snack stand, and also occupying the poorly-tiled bathroom roof. The flies are terrible. Arunmozhi arrived this morning, traveling North from South, via Poonghuzali’s van — he had met her fortuitously while exploring the coast, and thought they could only benefit from the assistance of a private investigator whose own aunt he was trying to locate — and with a motorcycle in tow. It is he who orchestrated the rendezvous. Kundavai had been up due North to fetch their eldest sibling, and is now here in her rental, acquired because driving Aditha’s sports car down towards Lanka would be the opposite of inconspicuous. The rental is already a filthy disaster. In theory this should help them in their incognito quest, but Arunmozhi is willing to acknowledge that what he had originally supposed would be a hiccupless development in the journey might instead be putting their multipurpose attempt to save the family business and uncover the truth wholly at risk. At this point, dirty rental cars are neither here nor there.

In the quest, at the very least, they are all united: understanding the truth about their entangled pasts seems somehow significant to thwarting the various family members now vying for a slice of the proverbial Chola Incorporated throne, to say nothing of the lurking specter of their father’s old political rival, who seems to be in dire enough financial straits that he has been setting up easily traceable Zoom meetings with Chola Inc secretaries who are bored enough to be looking for drama.

Considering the circumstances, Arunmozhi is comforted by the idea that they have discovered a capable ally. The problem is, it won’t amount to much if they never leave this gas station.

He strokes his beard a little, the way their father sometimes does, and once again wishes for his trusty bucket hat. It is, of course, very practical — this is what he tells Kundavai every time she protests it — but he also thinks it is a brilliant piece of fashion. He’d much rather look like the normal hip youths than dress up fancily in the stuffy attire of an ailing business mogul’s son.

The business in question currently being in the throes of potential jeopardy. And there is all this sticky secretive stuff of past love affairs. Arunmozhi is convinced it will all come together somehow, if only they probe a little. He has really made great strides, armed with his Regular University Student’s attire (the bucket hat) and canvas backpack, a simple nobody traveling around to find himself after finishing his degree. All one has to do is consider The Situation in front of them, to see the clear fruits of his labour.

But, ah: The Situation.

It is, he supposes, his fault. He sighs and refocuses.

The bathroom is more of an outhouse, really, with only one functional capability (its locking door), and it is within this vestibule that Aditha, about fifteen minutes ago now, had dramatically locked himself. In front of the bathroom door stands their brilliant sister, her perfect bun starting to undo and frizz, her expensive t-shirt (Kundavai cannot help but look expensive, even when she is trying very hard not to) developing sweaty stains under the armpits, and her aristocratic chin inching higher and higher in consternation. Behind her, naturally to Arunmozhi’s side, is Aditha’s old university friend — Arunmozhi’s current best friend — Vandiyadevan. He wears an old Vanar Men’s Cricket jersey and sandals, and is unsuccessfully ignoring Poonguzhali, who has started in her favorite pastime of bickering with him over the phone loudly enough that the sound carries. He’s wisely chosen to remain silent about The Situation so far; even with his clever tongue he’d surely only make things worse. In between swapping insults with their intrepid PI, Vandiyadevan keeps peering with concern at the bathroom door, fiddling with the tangled fake beard he had used to sneak into the Thenupuriswarar temple that morning (it is still adorning his handsome face), and gazing mournfully at the passing cars and buses, as if the necessary choice to leave his ornery Tata Nano behind when they crossed the river is truly haunting him.

And, in the middle of them all, perched against the seat of her motorcycle and with her arms very tightly crossed, is Nandini.

When Arunmozhi ran into her in the Periodicals section of that Sri Lankan library, desperately clutching the same fading birth announcements column he had been looking for, she had appeared – he’d thought, not uncharitably – in true mental distress. Things could not possibly be more different now.

Unlike Kundavai, Nandini remains perfectly coiffed after multiple hours of travel in the heat and dust. Her braid is sleek and glossy, her jewelry sparkles, the delicate material of her floral dress flutters genteelly in the nonexistent wind, and every manicured fingernail — now beginning to tap impatiently against her arm — displays nothing but absolute composure. She wears dainty gold bangles on her wrists and a thick oversized motorcycle jacket that must be sweltering in the heat, and has her luminous face turned lazily in the opposite direction as the outhouse. One of the chickens clucks at her feet, rooting around for worms.

Indeed, since they arrived, Nandini has been so very good at feigning indifference that even Arunmozhi could believe her utterly unaffected. It’s only now that, after a full fifteen minutes of locked bathroom door, he can see her expression become less and less dignified and — perhaps to the detriment of the collective — more and more irate.

Hm.

Arunmozhi knocks on the bathroom door with a bit more haste than originally planned.

“Go away!” comes the expected growl from within. “Won’t you let a man shit in peace?”

He has to hand it to his brother: it has the expected reaction. Kundavai puts her face into her hands and Nandini cracks just enough to roll her eyes before determinedly reverting to lofty silence. Vandiyadevan, of course, wisely smothers his snort of laughter behind a cough; he’s taken to holding the phone an arm’s length away from his ear, while Poonghuzali, true to form, has now started interrogating the motel owner about tax breaks on the other end of the line.

Diplomatically, Vandiyadevan says, “Well, if he really does just need a minute …”

“Please,” says Kundavai, “Please, come out of the toilet. For once in your life, be normal about this.”

“I’m being very normal,” says the voice of Aditha. “I am meditating on the mysteries of life. It will take me a while, so I will stay here for now, and then meet you all again in Thanjavur later.”

“You’re being a coward!” says Kundavai.

“Oof,” Vandiyadevan winces.

“Vandiyadevan,” says Kundavai, as close to pleading as she will ever get, “you talk to him. You’re good with words. Here, I’ll take the phone.”

Vandiyadevan, who as usual seems to lose some of his easy suavity whenever Kundavai turns the full force of her general presence on him, manages to say, “I got my degree in journalism, not politics. My charms only work on the ladies.”

This is more than enough to unite the warring factions of the group; Kundavai, Nandini, and the tinny mobile voice of Poonguzhali all scoff loudly and in harmony. Even Aditha seems to make a mild noise of amusement, though that could just as well have been the harangued motel owner on Poonguzhali’s end of the line, so muffled is the sound.

“Useless then. Aditha, I’ll knock down the door with our terrible rental car.”

“Don’t do that; you’ll owe the insurance man. Look here, Kundavai, didn’t your illustrious cards say anything about this?”

“I am not in the mood to be teased, Mr. Journalist. Your beard is melting, by the way.”

“Will it really be that bad if you came out, eh?” asks Vandiyadevan, concerned for both Kundavai’s nerves and his handy accessory. He frowns as Poonghuzali says something over the phone. “Oh — the lummox wants to know whether we’re planning on renting any rooms at all. Ayyo, no, I meant the desk clerk —!”

“She clearly has you all under her thrall,” interrupts Aditha, melodramatically from behind his door, cutting through the irate exclamations emitting from the phone. “You don’t know her like I do! I don’t care what anyone says. She’s lying.”

“She hasn’t said anything yet,” growls Kundavai, still with more dignity and poise than majority of the population might have on a good day. She tosses an acid look in Nandini’s direction. Nandini glares back coolly.

“It’s all part of her plan. She’s tricking us into complacence. Or have you forgotten that the person sitting on that bike is actually a – a – a –”

Aditha seems to have run out of words.

“She-snake?” offers Vandiyadevan tentatively.

“Poisonous witch,” recites Kundavai in a tired voice.

“Demoness,” remembers Arunmozhi, “oh, that was a good one.”

Nandini, whose indifference has since fully morphed into glaring daggers at Kundavai, pauses now to hum in contemplation, like a woman good naturedly unable to deny her many titles.

Kundavai, on the other hand, has reached her wits’ end.

“Four,” she says, turning to Arunmozhi and gesturing very specifically at her hairline. “Four grey hairs. Can you see them? One, two, three, four. Dearest little brother, I hope you considered my four grey hairs when you concocted this plan. This is really it. We’re going to be stuck in this gas station forever, and our pathetic cousin will take over the family business.” She raises her voice, “Do you hear that, Aditha! And then who’ll stop that scumbag Pandian from buying out all of his shares and blowing our family’s legacy trying to create God via chatbot? The bloody thing keeps advocating for users to kill enemies of the faith! And it’ll all be your doing!”

Oof – Arunmozhi is the one who thinks it this time. As far as accusations go, that one is a little harsh. After all, it was Kundavai who meddled enough for the maligned couple to break up in the first place. Sure, Aditha then went and exposed a measure of Veera Pandian’s scumminess to the press a year later, out of spite, on Nandini’s birthday, which blew up rather spectacularly in his face. But there’s no need to be rubbing even more salt in old wounds, thinks Arunmozhi.

Giving Kundavai a look which he hopes she takes to mean Relax, I got this, Arunmozhi steps forward and knocks a second time on the bathroom door.

“I told you, I won’t be lectured into participating in treason,” comes Aditha’s muffled voice, admittedly somewhat more cowed than before. “Against me, no less. Wow.”

“It’s not Kundavai,” says Arunmozhi, “it’s me.”

A long, rather mulish moment of silence follows. “Oh.”

“Yes,” says Arunmozhi, taking this to be an opening. “Won’t you unlock the door? Vandiyadevan’s disguise beard is melting in this heat. It would be a shame to have to hold a funeral for it.”

“I don’t have any other disguise beards on hand,” agrees Vandiyadevan helpfully. “I’d have to call Nambi up for one, and then I couldn’t show my face in the office for a week.”

Arunmozhi quite likes Nambi, though he’d never tell Vandiyadevan that — they work for rival newspapers — and now wonders if perhaps involving the older, nosier man at this juncture is the right call, as Nandini seems to soften wistfully in demeanour every time his name is brought up. Then again, maybe that will complicate things further, and instead of making her more agreeable, will result in another reaction hitherto unexpected. Unwisely perhaps, nobody really believed that Aditha would take one look at his ex-girlfriend, go white as a sheet, and promptly barricade himself behind the nearest locking door.

Who knows what Nandini might do with her own version of a curveball.

“I can’t believe this is your fault,” Aditha says finally, referring to Arunmozhi but sounding like he’s talking to himself. “Of course, she’d never be able to poison you. I’m just very hurt, you know.”

Kundavai throws up her hands into the sky. Vandiyadevan pinches the bridge of his nose in two fingers. Nandini, on the other hand, once more raises her eyebrows as though contemplatively conceding Aditha’s point.

Arunmozhi sighs.

“Yes,” he says. “There is that. I am sorry, Anna. Only, don’t you want to hear what she’s got to say?”

“No,” comes the finite response. Then, more despondently, “I don’t deserve it. She’ll never forgive me. I will go back to Kanchi and continue in the only honourable profession I’ve ever had.”

“For the hundredth time,” says Kundavai, breaking her silence. “Children’s camp counsellor is not a profession. Anyone can do arts and crafts and coach football. If you got your teaching degree, maybe.”

Privately, Arunmozhi thinks Aditha is uniquely good at facilitating the diligent creation of bead bracelets amongst 5 to 10 year olds. He also gets very competitive about football in a way that inspires excellence. Observing Kundavai’s twitching eyebrow, however, Arunmozhi chooses to keep these thoughts to himself.

“I already have a business degree!” says Aditha, from within the outhouse.

“Which you refuse to put to practice!”

“This is my one use in the world, Kundavai!”

Vandiyadevan and Poonguzhali have recently given up arguing over the motel, and the former now solemnly holds the phone out microphone first so that the illustrious investigator can listen in on the proceedings. Kundavai begins lecturing again. Even the chickens seem to be clucking with exasperation rather than neutrality. It is here that Arumozhi chooses to look at Nandini. While everyone else groans at the reminder of Aditha’s derailed career trajectory, on Nandini’s face there is a sudden and even startled expression of tenderness.

It must be terribly difficult, Arunmozhi thinks, to show up to what’s become one of the more chaotic family road trips in Tamil Nadu's history, clasp one’s hands together, and say, Well, you see, I’ve only just found out that my adoptive father is my real father and he is really quite a piece of work, factually speaking, even putting aside his God-bot delusions and general tax evasion, and the only way to find my mother, who has been alive this whole time, is with your help. But she seems fully committed to it all. It is very brave of her.

More importantly – resourceful as Nandini is, Arunmozhi has no doubts that she already knew about the children’s camp, and the arts and crafts, and most definitely the football. So that tender little look cannot have been one of pure surprise.

He smiles to himself. Maybe he wasn’t so misled in his instincts after all.

“Anna,” he tells the door quietly, in a tone he knows his brother – ever his protector, defender, and supporter, ready to take him seriously even when in the throes of his own early-life crisis – will catch. “I really think if we all work together on this, we have a shot at fixing many wrongs. I really am sorry for springing this on you. Both of you – you know.” When there is no response, he adds, “Look – maybe there will be a silver lining. You keep complaining that you haven’t had anyone to play a good match of chess with in a while.”

There is another prolonged moment of quiet; Arunmozhi imagines Aditha, the mass of his long hair tied out of his face as usual, proud profile turned towards the wall, his arms probably crossed in a close mirror of Nandini’s far more delicate posture. Nandini’s own expression remains stuck on whatever momentary ache passed through her, but now morphed into a complicated middle ground, unsure of whether she wishes to remain thawed or to remember the many wounds that led them to this somewhat silly juncture.

“Alright,” comes Aditha’s sudden, gruff voice.

Vandiyadevan’s mouth drops open. Kundavai freezes still as a statue in relief. Nandini, still astride the motorcycle, straightens imperceptibly; if Arunmozhi were really looking, a faint, almost imperceptible quiver of hope passes through her brows –

“But first,” Aditha continues, “I demand she return my stolen property.”

Oh, no, Arunmozhi thinks, a split second before, in front of their despairing and disbelieving eyes, some intangible stronghold of assumed dignity snaps within Nandini’s depths.

“Stolen property?” she shrieks. The chickens scatter, clucking for their lives. An innocent farmer filling up his truck’s tank ten feet away jumps violently and covers himself in gasoline. Nandini’s beautiful face has gone the colour of chalk. “Stolen property?!”

“Yes! It is mine, and you are wearing it!”

“You gifted me this jacket, you absolute jackass!”

“Well, I am ungifting it!” yells Aditha, through the door. “Give it back!”

“I’ll kill him!” Nandini howls, springing to her feet. Her eyes shimmer with a sort of impotent rage. It’s not quite clear who she is talking to – the collective, perhaps, or the divine, or even her own self – “Do you hear me?! Your death will be at my hands, Karikalan!”

“So do it then!” comes the equally theatrical roar from the outhouse’s depths. “FINISH WHAT YOU STARTED!”

“YOU JUST TRY TO TAKE MY JACKET BACK YOURSELF, YOU GUTLESS WORM –”

As everyone scrambles to prevent physical violence (Vandiyadevan has the wherewithal to yell for Poonghuzali-on-the-phone to go ahead and book the one room, as they’ll probably all be dead before the sun sets anyway), Arunmozhi reconsiders his intuition.

… Perhaps making this work will be a little bit harder than he thought.

Rubbing a hand over his overheated head, he steps into the fray.

#my writing #ponniyin selvan #arunmozhi varman #aditha karikalan #nandini #vandiyadevan #kundavai #poonghuzali #aditha x nandini #vandiyadevan x kundavai #i wanted to include some lines about vanathi but there simply was not a good opening :(#but we do stan an anxious constantly fainting queen

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chaotic-goodsir · 4 months

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Wilbur Cross for the ask game?

Ahhh thank you for sending me the blorbo of the moment haha 😅 Unsurprisingly I have much to say about Wilbur so here goes:

Favourite thing:

I'm gonna have to say his aesthetic. The triple denim. The pin badges. The apples. The neon green. The obvious satan allegory. The southern accent. The resurrecting himself from a skeleton by pulling a knife from his own chest, then stealing Miss Holloway's jacket. He's unhinged he's chaotic he's incredible he's the pinnacle of character design.

Least favourite thing:

He is canonically a bit of a creep towards women so there's that. But also the fact that he isn't actually present that much in canon. So much of his story is offscreen, which makes it great for headcanons and fic, but I'd still love to see more canon Wilbur content. (I haven't finished NMT2 yet though, so maybe there's more.)

Favourite line:

The whole of Made in America, if I'm allowed to count an entire song. If not then it's 'Am I? Am I though??' from The Witch in the Web.

BroTP:

In an AU of mine, pre-Portal Wilbur and Owen from SaF are nerds about science together. Also he's the best at getting around Owen's old man stubbornness to actually help him.

I also think the idea of Wilbur and Grace Chasity basically having to be colleagues post NPMD is hilarious. Not really a broTP as they would NOT get along but it would be very funny.

OTP:

*slaps the roof of MacNacross* this ship can fit SO much angst and heartbreak and suffering and I cannot stop thinking about it.

NoTP:

I'm not a fan of Wilbur/Howard Goodman. I just don't really get why you'd pair them together (except maybe because the actors also play Curt and Owen?) Like at what point would they even get to know each other properly? I will admit 'mr president and his evil eldritch horror boyfriend' is kind of a funny concept though.

Random headcanon:

One of my many pre-portal Wilbur headcanons is that he rides a motorbike and taught John how to ride one. They used to ride out to the countryside and go camping together when they were off duty.

Also, as a genderfluid I'm hereby taking this opportunity to claim Wilbur for my team. My (questionable) justification for this is that one line about slipping into Ms Foster's skin, the jacket theft, and the 'every girl-boy' line in the Wiggly jingle.

Song I associate with them:

2nd 2ight 2eer (that was fun, goodbye) by Will Wood

Favourite picture of them:

I've been answering this question with favourite scenes instead of pictures, and for Wilbur that has to be the resurrection scene in Witch in the Web.

#thank you for the ask!#hatchetverse #starkid #wilbur cross #uncle wiley #ask game

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space-writes · 5 months

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Happy Blorbo Blursday, Space!

Which of your characters is your favorite, right now (we've all got one, the others don't have to know)? Have they always been your favorite, or is this a more recent development? Are there particular traits that make them your favorite, or is it the ✨ vibes ✨ ?

happy blursday!

my favourite is always whichever wip i worked on last, im a fickle and changeable writer

so right now it's Vivien Webb, from claws. i only started writing him this last month (though he's technically an AU of a fic OC i started writing back in like. april).

he's just so compelling. he's got so many things wrong with him, he's like a buffet of Very Normal Behaviours, and writing him (and Vizaeth, his inspiration) is so much fun to do because the only rule is 'always make the emotionally charged choice'. no middle sliders - it's all or nothing, and it's usually all

i also love Vivien because he's a fucked up trans guy doing fucked up things, and i really like having a transmasc character who just gets to be The Worst. he's not me but his book is 100% taking bits of me and putting them through a funhouse mirror and it's been very cathartic at times.

his vibes are also immaculate. he's got obsessively bleached-white hair. he's an emo teenager. he never obeys binder limits. he's obsessed with his demonology teacher, Rainier. he summoned a demon when he was fifteen and gave it his uterus because he got so dysphoric. he's mixing his t-shots with demonic ichor. he's got an entire journal filled with printed out photos of Rainier. he's already committed two murders. he'll cry if you tell him he looks like a girl. he'll stab you if you say mean things about Rainier. he's my special yandere princess boy <3

#writeblr #blorbo blursday #thank you for the ask!#wip: claws #c: vivien webb #he's just so. *shaking him in my teeth like a ragdoll*#every choice he makes just makes things worse but he can't help it

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stoportotouch · 11 months

Text

okay, i am playing with my toys. you are all coming into the circle with me we are going to play with dolls together in my favourite way. by which i mean "time for the small opera company au". this is likely to be a borderline-offensive level of "bring your blorbo to work" in that parts of it may be thoroughly incomprehensible without outside knowledge. no less i hope that my passion for playing with my toys in strange ways is in some way charming enough to keep your attention.

i struggle with what to do with sir john franklin in an au where he is still alive in that "musical director" and "stage director" are both very much taken. but i guess he's like. emeritus producer/guy bankrolling the whole opportunity and who crozier talks to only through gritted teeth. alternatively franklin is the noda reviewer that crozier has a decades-long one-sided beef with. but also maybe that's sir james clark ross or sir john ross, if we need a Critical Offstage Presence.

crozier (as we have established) is the resident conductor/music director. he's good at it. in fact he is very good at it and knows exactly how to get both chorus and principals performing at their absolute best. he is very, very supportive of young performers... but only until the moment that they Fuck Up one time too many. simultaneously he is the sort of MD who most people do not want to work with more than once and who basically cannot do amateur productions any more because of... the person that he is.

jopson is basically his secretary but he also does a bit of everything arts admin-wise.the only thing that jopson can't really do is read music; he knows "that's middle c" and can extrapolate from there but he isn't A Musician as much as an Admin Guy. however he is occasionally called upon to be a body double for somebody who's off ill or for a principal who wasn't called for a rehearsal because all they would have been required to do was Lie Upon The Ground because their character was dead. no less he has, like, surprisingly arts snobby opinions on the best operas.

the stage director is fitzjames. this is really just a vibes-based thing because he is All Vibes. but he of course came from straight plays where there's no real need to be able to carry a line and therefore has little respect for Breath Control. occasionally he starts getting Regietheater Ideas, and on those occasions crozier threatens him with the baton. otherwise he's very popular with everybody. (apart from crozier.)

dundy has my Operatic Performance Backstory. which is that he had a mis-spent youth of gilbert and sullivan and one day heard somebody say the word "basingstoke" as though it was in and of itself a joke for the last fucking time, snapped, and started doing actual opera. i don't know if he's a tenor or a baritone but if he's a baritone he was pigeon-holed into patter roles and fucking hate[d/s] them. (this is just how i feel about gilbert and sullivan. as i said, dundy has my opera performance backstory.)

regardless of voice type he fucking loves doing real opera (especially if he's a baritone; if he is then he's counting down the days until he gets to do iago). but if he's a tenor he at times misses playing the dickheads that are afforded to tenors in the gilbert and sullivan canon. (he eventually sucks it up and campaigns for a production of yeomen, plays fairfax, and loves it.) if he's a tenor he eventually specialises into don josé-type roles because he finds them more fun than the sappy loving boys.

little is in charge of everything that involves not getting near a performance space. if he could then he would never actually go into a theatre and would work entirely from home. but crozier, unfortunately, does not allow him this luxury and does not believe in work from home. he has an "office" in the theatre that is basically just a ludicrously luxuriously-sized broom cupboard.

being (in his own estimation) extremely uncreative is not insulation enough for somebody who would much prefer to make a very complicated spreadsheet and who can do just about every excel formula from memory. he can read music and is secretly one of those "can look at music and just immediately sight-sing it perfectly" types. crozier knows this, so sometimes he is dragged unwillingly out.

irving is the other person whose office is in the glorified broom cupboard because he's actually the company's accounts guy. this is in keeping with the real john irving, who was, in fact, a Maths Guy. but of course he is also a musician, perhaps surprisingly: as i've already said he is one of the two types of Church Music Lifer. (he is the sort who knows everything and takes it all extremely seriously -- in other words he is a dec tenor.)

irving also brings hodgson, who is the other type of Church Music Lifer, along. they're both tenors in the same choir but on opposite sides of the church and on the rare occasions that little gets drafted in (which he likes, surprisingly), he sings bass on the same side as irving. little is the Purported Third Type Of Church Music Lifer, who doesn't believe any of it and is just saying the words (when he does say the words) recreationally and understands none of it.

this whole bit has really been an opinion for one specific person other than Me. i will therefore continue it by saying that hodge is, as he was in The Real World, the son of a priest (and therefore couldn't escape it). he... i cannot explain this better than he has the Church Organist Personality. and while he does occasionally play he is muuuuch more useful as a singer than as an instrumentalist.

in the opera company he's the rehearsal pianist (and he is extremely good at it, which surprises a lot of people). otherwise, he understands all of the church music stuff, but mostly so that he can make very niche jokes about it. this is the sort of thing that cracks him up. that being said, he does also Get irving in a way that very few other people are able to because of this. (also the lieutenants, who all live together for... what are by now probably obvious reasons, are definitely all Animal People. irving has a dog and hodge has a cat. little has something odd like a lizard.)

finally, hickey is usually in the chorus. however there was one (1) occasion where somebody didn't turn up for a concert because they were ill and crozier gave him a single solo line. this went to his head immediately and he has yet to stop thinking about it.

#ollie considers

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x-authorship-x · 1 year

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Hi🌻💕💕💕

🍌 In your opinion, what’s the funniest joke/reference/pun you’ve made in a fic?

🍐 Is there anything in canon that you absolutely hate and love to fix in fics? A wrong choice made, a fuck-up in characterization, a misunderstanding never cleared up, a conversation never shown onscreen, etc…

🍈 Who’s your blorbo and what are some of your favorite headcanons/ideas about them that repeatedly show up in your fics? Free pass to rant about blorbo opinions.

Hi Sisdiss 🥰

🍌 I don't know if I've really cracked joke-jokes, I usually prefer ludicrous scenarios in the body text and then A/N memes afterwards, but.... Favourite silly situation is Squad Two's night out drinking in No Tomorrow and favourite A/N joke is, in Until Dawn Breaks, when I cracked jokes about Ao and Shisui's dynamic (imagining Shisui fleeing Kiri with the Scooby Doo chase music over the top lmao) but it's a very close competition with everything Akira has ever said lol

(I forgot the oneshot Coffee Shop AU where Genma is very cringe when hitting on Shisui and Kakashi... This one probably wins for the joke lines)

🍐(the entire mess of Narutoverse canon and timelines?) well, I'm a repeat offender for saving Shisui's life but, more broadly, I love to actually break down a particular character's motivations, actions and abilities and think 'okay but how would these events REALLY play out now?' and then fuck around and find out 😂

🍈 OKAY toot toot Shisui-centric alert! Blorbo rant incoming~

Shisui is just.... Amazing. If you have a short list of the shared characteristics of Amazing Characters, someone being genuinely loyal, having integrity, and keeping hope is just.... Yes. Double points for being a sweetheart with horrible trauma and angsty obligations to both system and clan!

Shisui has, frankly, the worst Mangekyou ability because it's also the strongest and the scariest (at least with Itachi you know you're being tortured, Kotoamatsukami has very scary ramifications for reality and free will). Don't come for me with a list of the others (Shisui never actually uses Kotoamatsukami in canon and yet he's at THAT level with his genjutsu and speed? Kamui, Izanagi, etc etc, are OP and versatile but Kotoamatsukami is literally unstoppable and unbreakable and untraceable and if Kishi didn't make that stupid, nonsense rule about 'ten years' and didn't kill off Shisui when he realised just how insanely OP he'd made Kotoamatsukami, then Shisui would literally be the top Uchiha EVER) because I can whip out a thesis defence of how terrifying Kotoamatsukami is (ten years after one use is BULLSHIT and we're ignoring it) and how I literally would never trust any other character than Shisui with that ability (including Itachi, because he's proven an alarming propensity for following orders without thinking ANYTHING through - why the fuck are you trusting Danzo, who stole Shisui's eye and made him jump???? UMMM).

Uchiha are known for their eyes, if an Uchiha is powerful it's because of their eyes. Look at Itachi, his torturing genjutsu is like the Boogeyman of Narutoverse for so long, Madara and Izuna's eye angst defines them, they all play tug of war over Rinnegan and Eternal Mangekyou, Sasuke uses ninjutsu and kenjutsu only to whip his eyes out and cut the fight off at the knees, Obito literally uses Kamui as often as possible, even Kakashi is known for his borrowed Sharingan rather than Hatake or personal abilities.

...but not Shisui.

Oh, Shisui has a genuinely ridiculously powerful Sharingan but he NEVER uses THE technique. He uses regular genjutsu to scare the shit out of everyone, even sending Ao and Kiri Hunter-nin fleeing without even physically engaging with him; just the sight of Shisui watching them and a touch of his chakra is enough for Ao (THE Hunter-nin's top dog from THE Bloody Mist) to break a sweat and abandoned the mission.

Shisui is known for the Shunshin, something so basic and easy that every Genin and ninken can do it. Its like meeting someone so good at skipping rope that they can do gymnastics feats and then strangle their enemies without breaking rhythm. That takes not just natural talent but an insane level of dedication and practice. Other Shinobi use the Shunshin casually but for Shisui to be so good that THAT is his namesake and not his genjutsu... Can we just think about that for a second?

Also the fact that Shisui is prodigious enough (not even getting into my AU timeline of graduation and family relations etc) to be a role model and tutor for Itachi and, by general fandom consensus, died when he was 14-16. That means Shisui was ANBU possibly before he was 14, since he was a team leader and arguably then a Captain. This means Shisui must've been even younger when he reached Jounin, younger again when he was Chuunin, graduated possibly as early as Kakashi and Itachi did... And it's just never talked about??? Canon and fanon are OBSESSED with complicated OP characters; to draw the comparison again, Kakashi is known for his borrowed Sharingan and his Thousand Jutsu whilst Itachi is the Genius of the Uchiha with nightmare flame eyes and the ability to slaughter his entire Clan without interruption or injury (numbers possibly between several hundred and several thousand).... But Shisui is faster than Itachi and Kakashi, he's just as smart, he's more sociable and hopeful than either of them- and it genuinely flabbergasts me that he's not more hyped for it. Shisui was killed off by Kishi because he knew he Done Fucked Up with making such an amazing character and inserting him into pre-canon drama without accounting for how insane his influence and legacy would've been.

Shisui is so slept on it HURTS

Quickly scrolling back up to the ask because I've forgotten what the original question was my own headcanons for Shisui

- graduated at 6 (Kakashi is at 4, Itachi at 5) and activated his Sharingan when his parents died shortly afterwards

- Mangekyou at 8 when he was fast enough to save himself but not his Genin team

- Inoichi takes Shisui on as an apprentice. Inoichi doesn't have time for a genin team but there's an eight year old with the most psychologically and ethically fucked up Dojutsu shivering in a hospital bed and Konoha cannot afford for him to go rogue or burn out before they can benefit from him. Cue fatherhood.

- Shisui has extremely good chakra control. His genjutsu, not even Kotoamatsukami, is so powerful and yet finely woven than even Ao's stolen Byakugan couldn't see it coming OR face it directly. Shunshin seems to be using chakra to augment movement and increase speed (furiously side eyes Tsunade's strength) so Shisui's ability to be so fucking fast (he's the fastest ever Shinobi to me, Tobirama and Minato don't count because they 'jump' with seals whereas Shisui is Actually Running) that doesn't rip his limbs off or fuck him up internally must mean that his chakra use is just... Perfect. Watch me want to write a Healer!Shisui fic omfg

- he's Kagami's grandson, Mikoto's nephew

- summoning chakra has life altering effects on human chakra (Inuzuka ninken across generations as exhibit A) so Shisui and Itachi have some very subtle (and more obvious) bird instincts (including that amazing ability to retrace their steps without checking the stars, maps, a compass, or knowing the exact directions)

- Kagami was ambassador to Uzushio. I love this one because it lays a great foundation for Mikoto and Kushina's friendship and it also adds depth to Shisui's Feelings about Konoha and loyalty

- Shisui is in an ANBU Squad (usually Squad Two) with Kakashi, Genma, Raidou, and Tenzo... Why? Because I love them, your Honour. Also it's a great range of abilities, personalities and they all have different reasons to be feral loyal to each other and Konoha

- Shisui is amazing with kids. He is simultaneously the meme of carrying the kid by their leg (Sasuke) and cuddling them in a blanket (Itachi). Look at how amazing he was with Shy Baby Itachi? Shisui is the very very sensitive and gentle and warming ambivert friend who adopts every single introvert he meets (Tenzo, Itachi, Kakashi) and is in turn adopted by extroverts (Genma, Ino, Gai)

- his ANBU alias is Monkey. I picked this animal because I didn't want anything too obscure or obvious (Crow, Raven, Cat, etc) and then I liked the idea that he can wiggle out of everything, it's a little bit wise and a little bit humourous and a little bit Uncanny Valley. Now, I can't not make Shisui into ANBU Monkey 😅

- He's too good for this world. Wait that's not a headcanon that's just fact 🤭

Thanks for playing, this was really fun!!

#torship #torship talks #ask game #sisdiss #shisui

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monty-glasses-roxy · 8 months

Text

I've been wondering about something for a little bit so fuck it I'm making a 24hr poll about it. Lets start with the context... I will put examples of what I mean under the poll if you need them.

Imagine, you find a fic on Ao3. It's caught your eye as you scroll and you take the time to look over its information. You like the look of the summary, it's got your favourite characters in the spotlight, and a lot of the tagged descriptors look interesting to you. This looks like something you would like to read.

However, you recognise a few character names from the Tales from the Pizzaplex books in the tags, or perhaps, you know from following the author that they have most likely put some stuff they found cool from the books into this fic. They say in the fic tags that there's some book stuff that they've made their own in it, and they have clearly tagged a few of the Security Breach/Ruin characters as being the primary protagonists. The summary also doesn't mention any obvious book stuff or theory stuff either. You can tell this is not about the FNaF lore or theorising or anything too. Aside from that, all you truly know is that it looks interesting, has your blorbos in it and that the book animatronics are not the main focus of the AU fic.

With this in mind...

A few examples of animatronics that could be in the fic: Zeus the Sea Dragon, Tiger Rock, the Bobbiedots.

A few examples of concepts that could be in the fic: The 'sewer' of retired animatronics, an entire line of Mimic animatronics in at least one pizzeria, there having been a large range of discontinued attractions/animatronics at the pizzaplex before Security Breach.

Just to be clear, in case you're wondering, these results will not effect whether I do something with book stuf in it or not. I'm just curious.

Putting this in the main SB and book tags for a larger sample size. You can also reblog if you so desire, but I'm not pushing anyone for it. Literally just curious where people are on this

#fnaf security breach #tales from the pizzaplex #five nights at freddy's: security breach #fnaf sb #fnaf books #I don't actually know the tags for this stuff whoops #And if you're worried...#the worst a resounding 'no' will do is make me a bit self conscious about book stuff #but it won't STOP me #I'm of the 'FUCK IT WE BALL' and 'MY BLOG MY FUN' mindset #so ehh I don't really care.#I'm just really curious about it #so feel free to tell me!!#the books are... pretty awful in my opinion so its not like I'll be offended #I just personally like some of the character concepts and the implications some things would have on MY stories #and the waterpark animatronics are COOL okay? those are the ones I'll defend to the grave.#COOL GUYS OF ALL TIME TO ME SPECIFICALLY #my feelings on the resolution aside #very VERY cool guys in a story that's not that bad in the context of the series lmao

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redvanillabee · 24 days

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Peggy Carter for the character asks please! 🥰

First impression

My queen. My goddess. How is she so awesome. I love her.

Impression now

Peggy is a delightfully messy and brutal character. She's always a step ahead of others, but also she didn't account for everything. She has the smarts to be a codebreaker and plan covert ops, but she also makes things up as she goes. I'm not sure Peggy feels the most 'realistic', but she certainly is a complex character with depth and I love love love it.

Favorite moment

One does not simply pick one favourite Peggy Carter moment, are you kidding me?

In no particular order: her telling Angie about her work day at the end of 1x03; her telling Dooley/Daniel/Jack off at the start of 1x07, taking down Manfredi's goons at the diner in I think 2x08, confronting Whitney at the Roxxon facility in 2x05, her taking a large swig of bourbon after defusing the Nitramene in 1x01, etc.

Idea for a story

One day I will have enough of a plot to write a celebrity!Peggy x bodyguard!Daniel AU inspired by that scene outside of Wilkes' house in 2x03, but unfortunately today's not that day.

Unpopular opinion

I'm not sure I have one? If I must come up with one then...I don't care all that much what her 'canon' relationship is? The MCU is a mess anyway and I ship for fun, 'canon' or not.

Favorite relationship

Can I just put down Team Carter? Her and her entire gang of wacky but scarily competent friends? Like when Peggy and her entourage as seen in 2x10 roll up you better start preparing to beg for mercy or run for your life etc.

Favorite headcanon

Just because of my blorbo, I think Peggy sees some traits of Michael in Jack. And that's an entire can of feels to unpack.

Send me a character

#answers #backgroundagent3

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butmakeitgayblog · 2 months

Note

1 through 10 😈

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

.... City of Angels au 😐. Maybe not like rewrite everything, but if I could do it all over again, there's a lot I would change. But I chalk it up to a learning experience anyway

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

A full length canon fic. A super heavy fic. I dabble and drabble in that, but carrying an entire fic? I don't think I have the talent for it

How would you describe your writing style?

Amateur, but willing to give it a go anyway 😅. Smutty comedy with feelings? Easily accessible. Not overly pretentious even if I can get a lil purple prose-y at times 🤷‍♀️

Do you have any OCs?

Nah not really. Writing is fun, but I like to write about established characters. I like putting my blorbos in situations~

Do you have a story for them?

Nope

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

I genuinely don't know. If it's in the fic I'm pretty much comfortable tagging whatever

What's your ratio for rating your works?

I don't know what this means 🥴 You mean like E vs M vs T?? I am: confused

Your favourite ao3 tag.

Does grinding during heated makeouts qualify as softcore angel porn?

How slow is a slow burn?

For me as writer 5-6 chapters I guess

Thoughts on cliffhangers.

As a reader: 😭 I love you but I hate you

As a writer: 😈 ehe ehehehehehehheheheheh

Top three favourite fic tropes.

Friends to lovers with lots of pining and barely concealed jealousy. Bonus points if it's a period piece and their love is taboo, ooo lálá

Cheating - with each other, not on each other. They have an illicit affair together, that type deal. Idk don't ask me why it's between me and jesus 😔

Mystical/Mythical themes. Vampires, witches (not the transphobe kind 😒 (except TIF she can stay))

#anon #writer's ask

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dumpsterfireofsubtext · 1 year

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what are some things you’d like to see more of in the wn fandom? like more of a specific setting or au (i.e you’d like to see more of pre s1 era, or more of, idk, kitchen appliances au), specific trope or hc (more of the there was only one bed trope or more of glasses wearer beatrice), more of a specific style in writing or art, more spotlight or content on a character and/or a dynamic, etc? what would they be?

Errmmmm I’m honestly not that picky with fics and tropes if they’re done well. Definitely more pre szn 1 stuff because there is so so so much history there that’s alluded to in the show!!! My absolute favourite type of fics however are the entirely self indulgent au’s. Like, you can tell this person knows and loves what they’re writing about so u trust them more with getting it right.

I like the ‘put my blorbos in the settings of my favourite films’ fics. (Unsurprisingly given the fics I write). I absolutely eat it up and need more. Particularly classic films and shows. I have seen a Columbo au and an alien au knocking about on here that I will devour when the time comes.

I also don’t dig into hcs that much. If you make a compelling enough argument as to why this character does this/wears this/likes that I will throw myself on board in a heartbeat. (It doesn’t take a lot, let me tell you)

More Lilith and Ava dynamics pls tho!!! Also Beatrice and Michael. There’s so much potential there. And absolutely more superion and Jilian. Criminally underrepresented imho.

I’m so trash at answering these questions because honestly I’m just happy to be here. Any art any fics I don’t care I’m just glad I’m being fed. Everyone is so talented <333

#also what in the heck is a kitchen appliance au #warrior nun #avatrice #misiek asks

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herbalinz-of-yesteryear · 6 months

Text

20 Questions for Fic Writers

Thank you for the tag dear and talented @aftergloom ! Tagging @jawanaka @andordean @poetikat @stardustbee @storm89 @ro-the-bard-writer @wholelottatiffy @grinningnexu @botherbother-blog @eloquentmoon and/or anyone who’s interested.

1. How many works do you have on A03?

Twelve.

2. What's your total A03 word count?

153,256, discounting a fic translation. 😬

3. What fandoms do you write for?

The Witcher (books & game), Cybperunk 2077, Star Wars

4. What are your top five fics by kudos?

By kudo ratios i think it’s: the stars are not there, Await the Dawn, The Path of Aloneness, Seeking Resonance, Half Moon, Full Circle, something like that I don’t want to calculate everything 😂

5. Do you respond to comments? Why or why not?

Yes! To show my appreciation to the commenter, make friends, gush over blorbos. When commenter comments on many chapters I tend to reply in conclusion-ish to one or few of them, because I don’t want to flood threads with my own comment, perhaps out of an ingrained false sense of modesty?

6. What's the fic you wrote with the angstiest ending?

…I’m not sure 😂 All of fics are angsty fics, but with a sense of emotional catharsis at the end so I’d hope none? I recall some comments pointed out certain level of heartwrenchingness at Regis/Queen of the Night ficlet, and a little bit with Takemura’s ficlet. I think Blood of Emerald might be the angstiest ending when it’s done (no getting around it there hehe)

7. What's the fic you wrote with the happiest ending?

Seeking Resonance! But even then readers also pointed out sad sentiments 😆 It’s a fluffy ending imo

8. Do you get hate on fics?

Not yet :)

9. Do you write smut?

Yes! Not very adept but I’m learning.

10. Do you write crossovers?

Sort of. One Witcher x Cyberpunk 2077 long before the game was out.

11. Have you ever had a fic stolen?

Not that I know of.

12. Have you ever had a fic translated?

Yes and not sure 100% which one (i have no memory); think it’s the Regis Professor AU fic?

13. Have you ever co-written a fic before?

No but would like to.

14. What's your all-time favourite ship?

Hard question. I’m a multishipper. Maybe Geralt x Yen? Cerys x Ciri x Tankred? Judy x V?

15. What's the WIP you want to finish but doubt you ever will?

Aside from one abandoned sequel to my first fic, I don’t think there will be unfinished WIP. I’m just slow at em.

16. What are your writing strengths?

Psychology. Environmental storytelling. Some level of symbolism and metafiction employment. For fanfiction, maybe my close observation and portrayal of canon characters, i dunno; I do go a little lotho-minor-maul method before I can write anyone.

17. What are your writing weaknesses?

Oh boi. I’m still quite a novice, so basically everything aside from the few strengths. Especially with structure. Also dialogue. Also visualization of scenes (strange yes, but I am unable to see scenes most of the time, about short of aphantasia). I have great difficulty in writing long works.

18. Thoughts on writing dialogue in another language for a fic?

If there’s a purpose, whether for worldbuilding inside fiction or cultural reasons in real life. But sometimes it can be the bad kind of jarring. I remember personally opt to not use latin directly for star wars fic, for example (even tho translation sounds stoopid).

19. First fandom you wrote for?

Witcher! My Once and Future.

20. Favourite fic you've ever written?

Seeking Resonance I suppose. It’s soft and brought soft feelings to others on bad days. I loved that.

A bit cheating here since I haven’t finished, but I think really it will be Blood of Emerald. It’s basically original fic given the amount of worldbuilding and characters I have to do on my own, and the story is from a legend the length about 2 pages in canon ending with everybody dying (sad, angsty, violent deaths). Rare character, obscure material. I’m writing a full-length fic literally for myself and maybe 2 other people in the entire fandom. It gives me ulcers and insomnia. “odi et amo, nescio” 😂 Jks aside, I think for me there’s the allure like that of Matters of Britain retelling. The ending is set in stone, no one ever gets to know the whole truth. And it’s not even about the “how we got here.” A blink of light long gone by the time it reaches the eye. But for some reason it must be told.

I like Await the Dawn, too. And the stars are not there. Discovering the fun and love for OC first time here huehuehue

Somewhat relevant ramble: reflecting on what aftergloom mentioned in her experience, Q.11 (stolen lines and fics)—my writing is usually detached from my life, and I made a point to myself and closed ones irl that I would be extremely cautious in using real life material in my fiction. But there is a bit of that “grain of truth” in the stars are not there. My childhood crush had an unusual dream about me and I kept the sentiments while writing Maul (it is hard not to write a bit of myself in this character; The Wrath did a good job evoking some memories…). I found it to be a valuable exploration in my approach to writing. I think I would feel ambivalent to stolen lines, as it is hard to keep track of where “originality” begins and ends, but it would be quite an interesting experience indeed if bits of real-life event is written by someone else. ==

#tag game #personal

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