#has work killed off so much of my creativity? probably. but i just really want it back. so im trying my best

[theunconcernedembalmer]

Mr Gatto, do you like doing your job? Is it something you enjoy doing?

(Also take care of yourself Mun! :D)

Even after everything... I don't think I will be changing my job anytime soon.

#identity v #aesop carl #identity v embalmer #identity v ask blog #identity v the embalmer #gatto event #hi anon thanks for the concern XD #im doing alright i just have this insane depressive block that has been impeding y creative processes #so ive been trying a lot of things to get out of it #one option is to wait it out but im miserable doing nothing. so i will force it out and feel slightly better that at least i did something #i probably should have spaced oout my posts i clear the inbox really really quickly #ill try to get some stuff out while i can. since im free for the month before work resumes n i disappear again #seriously though its frustrating sitting down staring at a blank canvas for 10 mins with 0 ideas and low energy #and then resigning myself to going back to lying down and mindlessly scrolling twitter or whatever #every single time i try to do something i end up back on my bed. for days on end. it makes me want to throw myself down a flight of stairs #at least with asks i have something to work towards and thats so much better even if i do end up back on the bed afterwards #this sounds like a very pathetic show of begging for asks. which i guess it is??? #its just that. i used to have so many ideas. i used to draw so many comics. i want to cry every time i compare that with myself now #has work killed off so much of my creativity? probably. but i just really want it back. so im trying my best #i didnt mean to get this emotional in the tags but this is really something ive been struggling with a lot right now #so if u have the time to spare. just drop something dumb in my inbox. it helps a great deal. much greater than i can express #but anyway if ur reading this im still very grateful for the support u have shown to the blog in one way or another. #so thank you very much n i hope the day will treat you kindly #less than three

[cairavende]

Worm Arc 14 thoughts through 14.7 (there is too much for one post, I mean I could probably get four to five posts from 14.11 alone):

The team figures out Siberian's whole "is a projection" thing pretty quickly. Good for them.

I really want to know who ripped out page 325 for the "how horrible of a thing have I done that I don't want shared" check. I strongly lean Trickster but I'm not sure. I want more details on the Travelers and TiaV dammit!

Amy is having a bad day. Probably really a continuation of a bad few days. She probably didn't really need those fingers right?

Skitter criticizing Amy in her head for not being "creative" enough with her power is so on brand. Of course my daughter has already detailed out the complex ways she would use a power she doesn't even have. I love her.

I really wish the Undersiders/Travelers combo would stop splitting the fucking party. If they had just sent everyone after Siberian I bet the could have gotten the dude.

I do have have Skitter has gotten to a point where one of her "start of combat" actions is to just make a fuck ton of bug decoys. Almost without thought at this point.

Have I mentioned how much I love the "writing words in the air with bugs to communicate with people"? Cause I do. It makes sense. It would work. It lets her communicate long range. But it's also very silly to imagine. Very Silver Age in the best way.

Then it gets even better! Skitter makes a full blown animation to tell Amy that Siberian is trying to drop a building on her. Absolutely fucking perfection.

Tattletale maybe misjudged ever so slightly in what she revealed to Siberian. The combo of Siberian just flickering out of existence and everyone being like "oh fuck" was very good.

Amy trying to do her bullshit again and Tattletale having none of it, just destroying every argument before Amy even makes them until Amy agrees to come and help. More than makes up for any mistakes Tattletale made with Siberian.

The relay bugs are super neat.

Fucking high speed mutant dog/car chase. Absolutely fucking AMAZING. I loved every part of it. Ending with Sundancer just dropping a 50 foot wide sun on the road.

Tattletale trolling the shit out of Piggot and the heroes gives me life.

Also, Piggot's phone conversation with Tattletale was basically a villain monologue. For Piggot. Just all the shit about why she was doing it, why it was for the best, the coy little "sorry your teammates are gonna die, it's just an unfortunate side effect". All of it. This bitch is evil.

My daughter fucking tying up Crawler with spiderwebs. HOLY SHIT KID. God damn.

Very Mulan "Get off the roof, get off the roof, get off the roof" energy as they all run the fuck away from the bombing zone.

BUG HORSE!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

BUG HORSE BUG HORSE BUG HORSE BUG HORSE BUG HORSE!!!!

AMY MADE MY DAUGHTER A FLYING BUG HORSE I'M DYING!

TAYLOR CAN BE THE (BUG)HORSE GIRL SHE WAS ALWAYS MEANT TO BE!

It rescues her and she has to teach it how to fly and they form a bond and she saves it and it saves her and and and she gives it a NAME! EEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE!!!!!

She's only had Atlas for a day and a half but if anything happens to him I will burn the world to the ground. Then I'll find another world and burn it to the ground too.

Firebombs don't really do shit but destroy a chunk of the city, probably kill some civilians, and make the heroes lives pretty fucking hard as they have to rely on the randomness of Clockblocker's power.

Also weren't there supposed to be a bunch of Nazis also getting hit by the bombs? One of the only somewhat maybe kinda almost decent parts of the plan Piggot and they aren't even here!

Piggot's plan is terrible and evil is what I'm saying.

The only reason nearly every hero doesn't end up permanently trapped or whatever inside Cache's bag of holding is cause Skitter was there to keep him from being crushed by a car. Well, Skitter and her bug horse (BUG HORSE!)

Skitter got to shoot Mannequin in the back. Very satisfying even if it didn't do long term damage.

Sucks to be Cache. He's . . . probably fine? I mean at least he got everyone out as he was melting.

Really sucks to be Glory Girl. She is . . . uhhh . . . hmmm . . . not dead. I can at least say that.

I mean Skitter got her to Amy. And Amy did stop her from dying. So like . . . she's probably going to be fine. Yep. Juuuuuust fine.

(Look if Amy wasn't a bitch about giving Atlas a digestive system I might be willing to forgive a lot. My daughters (bug)horse comes first. But Amy didn't so I won't. At least Grue was able to help. He gets a lot of brownie points for that.)

Anyway, Victoria needed to take some time to heal the rest of the way so she left completely under her own free will. And it will never come up again.

Bombin' 2: Electric HOLY FUCK PIGGOT YOU REALLY ARE CRAZY Bombgaloo

Kill a few more civilians and maybe Crawler and Mannequin. Destroy more of the city (including the library!) in a way that will probably never be salvageable (I mean at least some of it is stopped in time for god knows how long). Jack, Bonesaw, and Siberian escape. And because of what was done Bonesaw is going to activate her bio-weapon.

Great job Piggot. Gold star. You fucking did it. You saved the city. You motherfucking idiot.

#Worm #Worm Web Serial #Parahumans #Cairavende reads Worm #The Slaughterhouse Nine #Taylor Hebert #Victoria Dallon #BUG HORSE #Atlas is the best #I love him forever #For real though I'm sure Amy is gonna go ahead and fix Vic right on up and set her brain right and then Vicky will be good as new #Won't need any therapy at all #Cause she'll be fine #It's not like Amy has already shown that she will justify literally any action she does as not her fault #So no reason to expect this to go any different then she says it's gonna #Thus Victoria is clearly fine. No further questions. It will never come up again I'm sure. #BUG HORSE!

[holy-hysteria]

I’ve seen a lot of headcannons on the Sinclair brothers in high school and here’s my take on them:

Bo Sinclair

I don’t think Bo was popular AT ALL.

He’s the kid that gets in fights all the time, disrespectful to teachers + peers, and just doesn’t give a shit whatsoever about anything.

He’s super smart though. He never does his work but he understands what’s going on. I think he was a naturally gifted kid, didn’t have to try in school to get good grades, probably could have been in the top of his class. He probably tried to use his grades when he was younger to get his parents attention but when that didn’t happen, he just gave up.

Along with being smart, I think he’s also pretty good at art too. I feel like if Trudy gave Bo as much attention as she gave Vincent and his art, Bo could have been just as good as Vincent. But since Trudy neglected Bo and his interests, he kinda gave up on it. Thought that it really wasn’t good enough.

His favorite class was probably math. I know most people would think shop but i really think he’d like math.

I think he did play sports in high school, or at least tried to. His temper got him kicked off most of the teams. Out of all the sports he played though, I think he probably enjoyed wrestling. It was a sport where he could get on the mat and all he had to focus on for a few minutes was getting a pin and scoring points. No thoughts about home or his parents, just the sport.

He probably didn’t have many girlfriends in high school. I feel like his whole demeanor in school kind out girls off so he didn’t get much action till high school was over.

I think the one teacher to actually like him was the librarian. The librarian probably knew about how Vincent was favorited and they felt like he was misunderstood. He probably ate lunch in there too since it was quiet and no one was around. He’d even help shelf books and things like that.

I don’t think Bo really had friends. Sure he’d hangout with the douchebag jocks, but it was never more than being friendly and cracking a joke here and there.

Probably started smoking bc of them.

Wanted to be an electrician and would read any books he could find on it while eating lunch in the library. ( That’s why the town still has power and everything works electrical wise down there. )

Vincent Sinclair

I’m gonna say it, Vincent was probably popular. He’s the kid that’s nice to everyone, teachers love him, and he’s always willing to lend a hand.

He was on student council. He helped make decorations for the dances and design the class shirts.

He did get bullied a little in school, only by certain kids, but I feel like he got through school pretty unscathed.

Like Bo, Vincent really didn’t have any true friends. Sure he was friendly with people, and would eat lunch with them sometime, but they weren’t super close.

Vincent had a lot of pressure put on him by Trudy. He always felt like his every move was being watched. As the “gold child”, Vincent felt like he had a lot to live up to.

Vincent was average in school. He wasn’t terribly bad but he wasn’t a child prodigy either. He had to study, things didn’t come easy to him, but he got good grades.

He HATED high school art. When he signed up, he thought we he’d be able to create whatever he wanted, but when he got into class and realized he had to follow assignment rules and didn’t get to have as much creative liberty as he would like, he dropped the class.

His favorite class would have to be English. I can see him liking the classics they had to read in class and would often go home and draw the scenes from the books. His favorites are To Kill a Mockingbird and Mice of Men. He cried while reading both of them.

I’m guessing Bo and him went to high school during the 80s/90s? But i think they both dressed somewhat similar, in that twin way that most parents dress their young children. Probably band t-shirts, pearl snap shirts (since they’re from a rural small town), and jeans. Vincent would have a turtle neck or sweater thrown in there somewhere though.

Vincent wanted to be an art teacher, so that kids wouldn’t have to get projects with little room to take creative liberty.

He drew comics for the school newspaper.

He took french. Just look at him. He DEFINITELY took french.

Also like Bo, he’s very awkward with girls. Not as much as Bo. He’s just shy and i think he doesn’t realize when someone hits on him.

Lester Sinclair

He’s no different than he was in the high school.

He was very much the class clown. Cracked jokes in class all the time and definitely planned the senior prank.

Unlike his older brothers, he had lots of friends. He had one or two super close friends but he got along with everyone.

No one was a stranger to him. He got along with people so well that when a new student came, he was asked to show them around.

He’s also very much like abi when it comes to school. He’s super smart but plays himself down to make people laugh.

HATED math class. Didn’t like the material, didn’t like the teacher, thought he was super creepy bc he flirted with all the female students.

Wore Vincent and Bo’s hand-me-downs.

He played soccer in school. I can see him play forward/striker. He’s super fast and very aggressive.

Unlike his brothers, he’s a ladies man. Always had a date to dances, always had a girl fawning over him. He’s funny and nice, true southern gentleman.

Favorite class was science. Loved learning about how things work, why things are the way they are.

If you looked in his senior yearbook, he’s on almost every page.

Wanted to be a park ranger. I don’t have to explain why, it fits him so well.

Went to parties all the time. He was the life of them too. He smoked pot a couple times too. Still does to this day just to relax.

#bo sinclair #bo sinclair x reader #vincent sinclair #vincent sinclair x reader #lester sinclair #lester sinclair x reader #house of wax #lester sinclair x you #vincent sinclair x you #bo sinclair x you #headcanon

[nourrris]

I'm happy there was no season 4.

This could either be a popular, or very unpopular opinion, I'm unsure as frankly I've only began watching two days ago, and finished the show already, (god it was beautiful).

Anyways, I very firmly believe anything after a season 3 would have likely ruined the storyline, it ended on such a beautiful note, something that's so perfectly them. I'm also in a way, happy they never actually did kiss, although realistically I had been rooting for it to happen, the fact it didn't doesn't bother me one bit, it really brings out all the intimacy in their prior actions, and words, I love that their love was batshit insane, that it didn't need a kiss or pda to believe it was reciprocated, frankly surrendering eachothers lives together was more than enough for a confirmation.

But continuing on, I believe a season 4 would have been too messy, they left s3 on a very difficult position to recover off, and a position that didn't need recovering either, it didn't need fixing or changing - not one bit. It was so perfect in my opinion, their last things they did was kill a man together to save one another, then kill themseleves together, literally how much more fitting could it have been for these murder husbands? It just worked so well, that nothing can be more intimate than death for them, in my opinion.

Latching onto the last part of the first section of the post, I really liked how they portrayed the reciprocity of Will's feelings towards Hannibal. When Bedelia ask's Will if he 'aches' for Hannibal too, and it cuts off to another scene, I generally already took that as a yes, as it was a big damn claim, I don't think it's something you easily hesitate on, not when the person in question is a cannibalistic murderer. When he chooses to save Hannibal, and jump off the cliff with him though, that is the real confirmation of course, choosing to leave his wife and son, all friends and absolutely every inch of the life he made - for Hannibal, a man he physically could not get over no matter how hard he tried.

It's perfect, sorry I just finished the show today (like a few hours ago) and I love it so dearly, I've never watched something where the ending felt so genuinely satisfying, even if it seemingly hadn't meant to felt like a finale in that manner, it worked amazingly, I'm very glad it wasn't a s2 situation with such an insane cliff hanger, or else I would have probably just.. never watched the show. Some say it does feel like a cliff hanger, but eventually you can come to terms and realize that their actions, a double suicide in the name of love(?) couldn't possibly surpass anything else they've done at that point, their action's have led them to either horribly idiotic situations, or blissful moments.

Lastly I wanted to mention my original assumption of the ending, I midway through season 2 found out Hannibal was actually a incomplete cancelled show, also prior to that I found through spoilers that will eventually has a wife. Those facts are important because I very weirdly am a person who cannot consume a media without spoilers, (my anxiety is due to that). So I just about know every ending of a show before I'm even halfway into it, although I tend to prefer to wait later, I wondered if finishing the show was worth it so i searched it up, and watched briefly the ending, It was very relieving as if it actually did truly end in a heterosexual way it would have immediately made me quit the show, as yes they are intimite but I still did want any type of closure, without it I would have felt at most pretty indifferent with the ending.

Anyways, the show is beautiful, I love it so so much, even if it's a complete change in genres for me, I love the characters, I love the artistry and creativity in the show, and god do I love the ending.

(edit a day later: guys i totally missed that last scene w bedelia at the end, i still prefer s3's ending but did not know it was implied they were alive!!??!)

#hannibal tv show #hannibal nbc #hannibal lecter #will graham #sorry if theres typos #tis 10:30am #ive been awake since 5pm #spent all day watching hannibal (whoops)

[ordinaryschmuck]

Guardians of the Galaxy Vol 3 made me cry three times.

Hey, that’s one per movie...Yeah, this movie’s awesome.

If you couldn’t tell, this is a very emotional film for sure, and a part of why that works so well is because it’s these characters. The Guardians are some of the most likable characters in the MCU, so seeing them go through a lot of hard stuff in this movie hits ya where it hurts because of how much you care about them. Especially Rocket, who I might not see the same way again after this movie due to his crazy tragic backstory.

Speaking of which, shit gets DARK with Volume 3! Do you like animals? Then maybe don’t watch this one, because there are scenes where animals get tortured, mutilated, mutated, and even killed throughout the film. You don’t see the REAL brutal stuff, but the implications that James Gunn puts in might actually be worse than SHOWING us. But don’t let that make you think we DON’T see any gruesome stuff in this. Guardians of the Galaxy Vol 3 is one of the few MCU projects that EARNS its PG-13 rating, having some VIOLENT imagery and deaths. For example, there’s a moment where you see what a character really looks like, and it might just be the goriest thing the MCU has ever had, which is the biggest compliment I can give.

But despite all that, it’s still funny! Like, REALLY funny! And the jokes don’t spoil and dramatic or serious moment in the film, either...Well, except for maybe one or two scenes, but that’s NOTHING compared to films where the jokes completely harm the final product like Thor: Love and Thunder. Here, the jokes are perfectly placed, are rarely forced in, and are ACTUALLY funny. Me and everyone in the theater were cackling with laughter a LOT throughout the movie. I could barely restrain myself from belting out a laugh or two half the time.

And the action. Holy SHIT, the action! These “trilogies” in the MCU really know how to save the cool stuff for the third movies. Iron Man 3, Captain America: Civil War, Thor: Ragnarok, Spider-Man: No Way Home, and now THIS FILM all feature some of the most epic, creative, and fun action scenes and set-pieces in the MCU. There’s a hallway fight that might just top Daredevil’s due to how violent and creative it is with these characters, their powers, and how they kill people. It really does feel like James Gunn wanted to give the fans a few final cool battles before leaving the MCU forever.

Which brings me to another thing about what makes this movie awesome: It is a clear send-off for James Gunn and the Guardians. The movie makes it VERY clear that this will be the last time all these characters will be together. Hell, the credits features pictures of the Guardians throughout their journies and adventures in the MCU. The most we’ll PROBABLY get are cameos, but other than that, this is the end for most of these characters. And WHAT an end it was.

If there’s anything to complain about, there’s two problems.

#1, Adam Warlock. The character isn’t...bad and Will Poulter nails the voice I always pictured this character having. But he doesn’t really nail who Warlock is in the comics and, overall, he’s kind of...pointless. You can easily write him out of the movie and make a few extra tweaks NOTHING would be missing. Honestly, it feels like the only reason why he’s here is because Volume 2 teased his appearance and James Gunn had no choice but to...bring him in for this last ride. Also, Warlock has the worst costume in the MCU. I mean, look at this:

What even is this?

Which brings me to #2--Which is my most nitpickiest complaint: Star Lord doesn’t wear his mask. Ever. Throughout all two hours and a half hours of this film. It’s part of a bigger complain I have where characters don’t mask up as much as they should in these movies, but it doesn’t stop how distracting it is. I don’t want see Chrisp Ratt’s stupid face in this. I want to see STAR LORD.

THIS! I want to see THIS! And the crazy thing is that Volume 3 finally gives the Guardians their comic accurate uniforms, but don’t go all the way in giving us Star Lord’s mask. Not even the original one they made for these movies. Part of the fun of superheroes are their cool and iconic costumes so it sucks that we don’t get to see enough of that. Imagine if Spider-Man: No Way Home or Captain America: Civil War didn’t have Peter and Steve wear their masks for the big and epic fights, including the finale battles. It wouldn’t be great, would it? Seeing Tom Holland and Chris Evans fight instead of Spider-Man and Captain America.

LET YOUR HEROES WEAR MASKS, YOU COWARDS!

...But other than that, this movie’s a near perfect 9/10 for me.

Now, does this mean Marvel’s back on their game and they’ll be making good movies again?

...We’ll see.

For now, I’ll remain hopeful. Because while the MCU is going through a bit of a rough patch with its films and recent shows, there’s still some fun to be had. I’ll always keep an eye out for what they have next, even if it’s not always as good as it could be, it’ll always lead me to seeing...

A fun, nostalgic thrill-ride that honors Spider-Man and what makes him so awesome.

A touching tribute to Chadwick Boseman and how much he and the character he portrayed meant to others.

And this final ride that’s fun, tragic, and complete in all the right ways.

#marvel cinematic universe #mcu #mcu reviews #guardians of the galaxy #guardians of the galaxy vol 3 #rocket raccoon #star lord #adam warlock #quick thoughts #what i thought about

[azrielgreen]

Hi! I really hope that this doesn't come across wrong, because you're my favorite author of all time, but I am curious about how and why you write pairings with Billy? I mean, he's a violent and awful racist who tried to kill a kid. I'm just curious about Billy shippers, and I wanted to know what you think about all that! You really are my #1 author, and I really, really hope this doesn't come across as mean!

I debated answering this at all because I really don't involve myself in anything remotely related to fandom unpleasantness or the kind of immaturity that leads to "ship wars" and outright bullying, but I can tell your question was asked in good faith so this will probably be the one time I answer anything like this.

I write for myself. I write characters that interest me. I'm interested in complex characters. They have the most wiggle room for expression and interpretation of angst and growth and suffering within my kind of creative narrative. I fully appreciate that the Stranger Things fandom is where I gained traction, but I've been in fandom for a decade and I've written for Hannibal, Supernatural, Vampire Chronicles, Dragon Age among many others that I usually orphan because writing for myself is essential. I don't write to appease or instruct or create a moral guideline for how to be or how to love.

I won't reel off a list of reasons "why" i write pairings with Billy because I don't need to justify anything to anyone. I don't endorse what I write. I explore complicated characters and I feel things through them and I write and follow my creative instincts where a story might lead. I don't write to be popular, I never have, and I never will and if I thought for a second that the only reason my fics gained traction in this fandom was because anyone saw me as some kind of Anti-Billy Flag-waver, I'd delete every single thing I wrote including my AO3 username. Luckily, I know that's not the case and those who like my writing and stories enjoy them because they're smart enough to select what they like and leave what they don't.

I think there's a stunning level of dissonance between people who are insecure and fandom and those who are secure. It's fanfiction. It's literally transformative works. I can transform whatever I like and I write what I'm drawn to and I am drawn, always, to complicated characters with the potential for growth and evolution from low places. I've written so much for so many fandoms and some of what I've written has been pure, ice cold horror, straight up. The idea that I'm supposed to be someone who only ever writes Fandom Stamp-Approved Characters is hilarious to me. I write about murderers, people who kill, soldiers, assassins and even serial killers. I could spend time and energy explaining why I'm drawn to writing darker elements and giving them a bright, hopeful growth arc but I shouldn't have to explain ANYTHING and I don't, so I won't and please, anyone else reading, do not ever feel like you have to explain or justify what you write. That path leads nowhere good. No one should regulate what people write. NO ONE has the right to bully someone out of a fandom because they disagree with what they're writing about. No one.

I have always tried to be very open and supportive about encouraging people to feel safe exploring their interests, be it kink, trauma, whatever. I'll fight fiercely to defend people's right to enjoy literally whatever the fuck they want because life is hard, time is short, real life is disappointing and AO3 at the end of a long day can be comforting as fuck. The idea that some people are handwringing because people write about a "violent awful racist who tried to kill a kid" is so ridiculous to me it makes me laugh every single time. It's not real. It's a story. It's a TV show. I can explore whatever I want and so can everyone else.

Here's the very closest you'll come to hearing me give reasons why and I'm only doing it because I want other people who feel belittled and bullied and shamed for exploring what they're drawn to, to see this. The person I was at 17 years old is nothing like the person I am now and I cannot emphasise that strongly enough. I come from an abusive home. The girl I was at 17, 18, 19 and even 20... if I met her now, I wouldn't know her and she absolutely wouldn't know me. I lost who I was as a child because I was abused and it's only in the last ten years I had enough experience, distance and self-exploration to rediscover myself and really grow. Nothing excuses racism or violence. Me writing these characters is not excusing it. Writing domestic violence is not endorsing domestic violence. People need to understand this because it's a massive problem in the queer publishing community; this idea that all queer media needs to be morally squeaky clean, to be flawless and sexless and adhere to the perfect cis-heteronormative outline in order to be "acceptable" and not cast a pall on queers overall. I believe people can change. I believe people can see themselves in a piece of media and WANT to be better. I know because it happened to me. People can change. I like to think there are circumstances in which Billy could change. In which there was an intervention point, the possibility for redemption.

Fanfiction isn't real life. I would be so happy if people could understand this. Fiction is FICTION. It's exploration, it's themes, it's freedom of expression, it's art, it's for fun. It's not for everyone. No single thing is for everyone and it never, ever should be. My writing isn't for everyone. That makes me really happy because it means those who might resonate with what I write, will find it and have their own space to enjoy it. I'm a person with finite energy and time who dedicates a lot of that energy and time to this corner of fandom where I reasonably expect to be able to write whatever the hell I like however I like and if anyone has a different opinion of that, they'll be sorely disappointed. Complex, flawed characters whose experiences mirror my own will always be compelling to me and I will always be drawn to exploring redemptive narratives for them. If people don't like it, they don't have to read. If they get upset that I'm writing something they disagree with, that's on them and if they feel the need to draw attention to their discomfort, that's far less to do with the person they're complaining about and more an indication they need to do some serious shadow work.

Thank you for your question, no harm was inferred and I wish you all the best. Az. 💜💜💜

[malue-505]

Hi! Sorry for my absence, School has been kicking my butt 😭. Do you have any general hcs for the creeps?

-🫧 anon

Oh welcome back 🫧 anon!

School can be a pain in the ass so don’t be afraid to take a break off tumblr if you need to. Be strong, I believe in you!

As for general headcanon for the creeps, I’ll share the ones I remember for now and we’ll see which ones are the most intriguing:

Liu is two years older than Jeff in my AU. Liu did forgive Jeff after he attacked him, he understands that his brother was quite young and was overwhelmed by bloodlust at the time. Jeff and Liu currently have a very peculiar dynamic. Jeff knows that Liu forgives him but can’t bring himself to open up to him ever since all those events that happened 10 years ago. Liu wants to repair his relationship with him but Jeff is too distraught from seeing his brother alive and feels immense guilt.

In general, their relationship is very awkward. Liu tries his best to reassure him and has been incredibly patient but Jeff still can’t fully face his past, especially his past mistakes, fully.

Sully’s distaste for Jeff is quite reasonable, Jeff did try to kill Liu after all. Sully isn’t as bloodthirsty as he’s usually portrayed fanon-wise. Yes he has some moments, he’s very snarky, sarcastic and childish since he is 7 years old. But deep down, he’s just a 7 year old alter than holds some signifying trauma and that’s a role he has had to endure for a while. So his emotional outbursts are quite reasonable, especially in relation to Jeff.

Slenderman really likes chess, it’s probably his favorite hobby. He’s used to playing against his grandfather but nowadays he just likes to randomly invite any of the mansion residents to play against him. Even if they aren’t ready for it.

Also Slenderman’s birth name is Edward and he used to have long hair as a kid.

Trenderman is quite the well known fashion designer in a lot of Midrealm cities, one of his favorite models to work with is actually Jane. She didn’t think much of it when she accepted Trender’s offer but it turned out that she loved modeling and continued to model for him. Jane literally fits for almost all of his designs.

Sally has made pink aprons for all of the male mansion residents, enbies included. The aprons have their names or nicknames hand-stitched on the apron too. They wear it with pride whenever they are in the kitchen whether it be making breakfast or having a cook off.

Lazari is generally really artistic. She loves drawing (obviously), painting, poetry, watercolor, you name it. It’s part of how she copes with her trauma as a creative outlet but also because just loves being spontaneous and expressive because she wasn’t allowed to do that before.

Toby has made it a habit to constantly check his body for any wounds, scratches or generally any injuries he might’ve gotten without noticing. He checks every time before he goes to bed. Toby doesn’t really wear a bandage over his cheek gash, he only does if he isn’t wearing his mouth guard mask for a considerable amount of time. He doesn’t want it infected obviously.

Ben can be quite the prankster and quite the rascal. He’s acts like every 12 year old boy basically. Ben isn’t super powerful or anything, he has all the powers that is expected of his species (he’s in multiple categories, another post for another time).

EJ has a mini-fridge in his room full on kidneys, mostly because he hates going back and forth to the kitchen whenever he wants one. Man definitely has some anger/temper issues, he sometimes gets one of those days where he will yell at someone if they briefly glance at him “the wrong way.”

#creepypasta #creepypasta fandom #creepypasta au #creepypasta headcanon #jeff the killer #creepypasta jeff the killer #homicidal liu #creepypasta homicidal liu #creepypasta liu #creepypasta slenderman #jane everlasting #jane arkensaw #jane the killer #trenderman #creepypasta sally #sally williams #lazari swann #ben drowned #creepypasta ben drowned #creepypasta ticci toby #ticci toby #eyeless jack #creepypasta ej

[elbarkla]

Check it out everyone, 3 years of art progress! And I wrote a guide for beginners! 😊

Hi! I’m Laura, age 31. I’ve always drawn occasionally, but never really stuck with it. Frankly it stressed me out. I’d draw for a month, then cry a bunch, then quit for a couple more years. But this time I turned it into a habit somehow. I’ve been drawing near-daily since Feb ‘21 and my life is better for it. Art’s a huge part of me now; it affects how I spend my time, how I express myself, and how I see the world. I feel like a happier, more complete human being.

So here’s what worked for me. This is a guide for hobbyists (I don’t have commercial ambitions) and it may or may not work for you. But I hope you can learn something from it regardless. Without further ado, my thesis:

 ~ Laura’s Steps for Drawing A Lot and Hopefully Getting Better ~

 1 – Manage Your Health 

Know what’s bad for your art? Depression! Glad I got around to treating mine. But for real, if you lack self-confidence you might want to check your mental health. It isn’t the sole factor but it can rapidly overtake the others. Every day I see a post like “how do I improve, every time I try to draw I’m overwhelmed with thoughts I’m bad at everything and a burden to the people around me”. That’s relatable but not a healthy way to see yourself. Low self-esteem can be treated. Please consider talking to someone - you’re a wonderful, lovable person and deserve a happy life.

Also, try to get plenty of sleep and eat regular meals; it helps with everything. Exercise is worth a shot too. Going for walks is good for your mind and body. Yes it’s boring, but boredom gives you space to imagine things.

 #2 – Make It Fun

You’re taking this too seriously. Yes, you. It’s just a hobby. Take the pressure off. Have fun.

What does that mean? It means you need to make art approachable. It has to be a comfort hobby you’re naturally drawn to. That means killing all thoughts of what you SHOULD do. If it makes you want to draw, go for it. Anime characters? Pretty ladies? Fanart? Furries? Doodles from imagination? Zentangles? Pencils? Digital? Do it. If drawing the “right way” burns you out, draw things the wrong way instead. You know who draws a lot? Children. You know who doesn’t draw super well? Children. Have that mindset. Draw like a child. Don’t compare yourself to others; just enjoy the process of creating something. You had that ability once and I know you can reacquire it.

 Intimidated by an empty sketchbook? Don’t wanna ruin a white page? That’s OK; find something you don’t mind ruining. Grab a half-used notebook and a ballpoint pen. You EXPECT those to look horrendous. If you can have fun filling that notebook, you can have fun drawing regularly, and if you draw regularly you can slowly improve your art. It happened to me. I went from rarely drawing to wanting to do it every day. I still sketch in ballpoint now; it’s fun and comfortable.

Also, if drawing’s NOT fun? That’s OK too! There’s loads of ways to express creativity; go do do one of those. For me it was The Sims 3, then knitting, then drawing. Find something accessible and build your confidence up. The world needs bonsai trees and Minecraft castles just as much as drawings. <3

#3 – Seek Instruction

You’ve made drawing a habit, congratulations! You’ve probably learned heaps already; it’s natural to work out techniques as you go. But deducing art wisdom from scratch isn’t super efficient. There’s no need to reinvent the wheel when you can learn so much from others.

You can do a paid course (great way to meet people), but you don’t have to. All the information’s free on the internet! Teachers will cover the same things in different ways or from different perspectives. There’s no exclusive knowledge; the more you study, the more overlap you’ll notice. It all comes together for a more complete understanding of fundamental concepts.

Here’s some of my favourite resources (currently all available free online)(except the Winslow one which was taken down, boo):

  r/artfundamentals, ie. drawabox.com . A great starter course on how to hold a pen, draw lines, build forms and so on. You can follow structured lessons or just practice whatever you need to.

How to Draw: Drawing and Sketching Objects and Environments from Your Imagination, by Scott Robertson. This book’s the gold standard on perspective and great for technical thinkers. It gets VERY advanced but there’s basic stuff to learn from as well. If the textbook intimidates you, try this excellent video playlist by Dan Beardshaw. He walks you through the same concepts in a simple approachable manner. Vital information if you want your work to look 3D.

anything by Andrew Loomis. He’s an icon for a reason; the Loomis head is a standard art tool to this day. I also enjoy the anachronistic career advice (“all advertisers will pay for a well-drawn head” or whatever it was). Here’s the ones I’ve read and enjoyed:

Fun with a Pencil

Figure Drawing for All It’s Worth

Drawing The Head and Hands

Creative Illustration (my current fave, great for composition)

Classic Human Anatomy in Motion, by Valerie L. Winslow. Hot take – people who say “learn anatomy” to beginners are idiots. SO MANY fundamentals come before anatomy if you wanna draw good-looking characters. You’ll get better results studying proportion, form, gesture, shapes and composition first. But if/when you want to learn bones and muscles, this is the book for you! It’s probably overkill, but I loved the breakdown of facial muscles and how they create expression. Top-tier reaction image material.

Proko!! Fabulous Youtube channel. Not only is Stan a great teacher, he invites on other artists too. Just go to his search bar and plug in a keyword; you’ll always find something helpful. I recommend his channel if you want to draw humans (loads of gesture, forms, proportion, anatomy etc.), but there’s a video or two on everything. Some of my other favourite videos:

Mind-Blowing Realistic Shading Tricks. Simple effective intro to light and shadow, I still go back and learn from it.

How to Draw Dynamic Shapes – FORCE Series Part 3. So compelling I bought the book afterwards. Blew my mind, instantly improved all my shapes and in turn my composition and gesture.

Painting Skin Tones and How Light Affects Color. Marco Bucci’s a genius with colours, he explains value and saturation in such fascinating ways.

Digital Shape Carving with Scott Flanders – good companion to the shading video above, teaches dramatic silhouettes and cel-shading within a really interesting workflow.

Google. Any question. Throw it in. Someone’s made a video or reddit post about it. You’d be surprised! I swear, the number of times I’ve typed “composition tips” or “digital watercolour clip studio paint” or “how draw horse head”.

Remember, take it easy. Don’t burn yourself out. Back off if you feel the tears creeping in. Study should supplement your drawings, not replace them. If in doubt, revert to step 2 – “bad” art is better than no art.

4– Study Life

If you did step 3 you’re way ahead of me on this one. USE REFERENCES. Draw things from photos (or real life if possible). Fill your brain with visual information. Here’s a thread I made for sharing references of humans.

What if you prefer to draw from imagination? That’s fine – try a hybrid approach. Doodle whatever comes to you, then look up references and try again. For example I’ll doodle a bear, then draw from photos of bears, then doodle new bears using the things I learned. It’s fun and also a good way to test your knowledge. You may also enjoy combining different references; eg drawing animal fusions, combining poses with an outfits etc. It gets easier to do the more you practice.

Between art pieces I keep a balance between drawing from imagination, drawing from reference, following art lessons, and studying other artists. Speaking of which –

5 – Study Art

Ever heard “Don’t draw anime until you’ve learned anatomy?” or “Learn the rules before you break them?” I strongly disagree with both of those statements. Fundamentals are great but there’s never a point you stop learning them, and studying life won’t teach you how to stylise. That’s why you also need to learn from your favourite artworks. This gets easier/more efficient as you build your broader art skills, but you can learn styles at any point of your art journey (see – step 2). In fact, it makes study more enjoyable, since stylised art can look better and feel more “you”. You already know what you want to create– why not start now?

Let’s take anime as an example. That’s a huge genre with loads of variation. So, what’s your personal taste? Round and cute, or sharp and serious? Choose your favourite shows and study how they do it. Observe their lines, shapes and proportions. Then try it yourself. Make fanart. Not only is replication good art practice in general, it’ll teach you a bunch of new tricks. For original work, pull from loads of sources, the more diverse the better. Work in your love for Silver Age comics or medieval tapestries or German expressionism. The more places you learn from, the more unique and personal your style will be. Your art becomes a visual scrapbook of all the artists you love. I think that’s beautiful. <3

 6 – Find Community

Art friends! Best thing ever. You can bond over your shared obsession, commiserate over tough parts, and learn about art together. A lot of my drawings are in-jokes exchanged with my BFF. I’ve known them from childhood (lucky) but apparently adults can make friends too. Fandom spaces are great for this; many Discord channels have a dedicated artists’ zone. You can also try r/sketchdaily or challenges like Mermay/Inktober if you want a sense of community.

If you don’t have art friends (yet), that’s OK; parasocial works too! I like watching “Draw With Me” content on Youtube. It’s great to put on while you’re creating, especially when you don’t have the energy for something educational. Not only is it inspiring, you can learn tips and tricks along the way. And of course, you can never go wrong with Bob Ross.

 7 – Be Interesting

The very first step was to manage your health. In a way, we’ve looped back to the beginning.  Because no matter what you do, art begins and ends with who you are. You can practice fundamentals 12 hours a day but if you never live your life, you’ll never make interesting art. No one cares for artists whose only character trait is how hard they grind. So go be the most vibrant version of yourself. Take up weird hobbies. Make weird friends. Seek new experiences. Question the beliefs you grew up with. Read books for a while instead of drawing. Develop your principles. Embrace what makes you different. Survive the worst year of your life somehow. Learn what makes you thrive. Your art won’t be for everyone. But it WILL mean the world to some. And to me, that’s the whole point of doing this. Good luck, fellow artist. The world is your adventure yet to come. I believe in you. <3

#art progress #art tips #art tutorial #art resources #art guide #artists on tumblr #elbarklaart

[writeouswriter]

Winter Reading/Arting/Writing Tag

Thanks so much for the tag, @ink-bunny-blue! (X)

Describe one creative WIP project you plan on working on over winter

I always “plan on” working on a thousand things and then do none of them 😭 because I haven’t been in so much a “creative slump” as I’ve been in an iron gripped chokehold by hyperfixation for the last year, so on one hand I’ve been unable to focus on any of my original writing because it’s not about The Interest™️, and then on the other hand I haven’t even been able to write anything about The Interest™️ because the fixation on it is so strong, everything I write for it has to be Perfect™️ (and nothing’s ever perfect, you know). On that note, if my ability to write returns from the war and I ever get a day off from this purgatory of a job, I really really really want to work on this comparative essay about The Interest™️ involving analyzing parallels to a certain classic play, and looking into various aspects of the tragicomic structure and themes of identity and change. Also, God willing, I’d love to get one fic done, just one, please please please, I have a few winter-y or Christmas-y ones I’m dying to get my brain to sign off on despite my lack of free time, come on, brain, yip yip.

Art, same thing, something Christmas-y for The Interest™️, also I gotta finish some zine pieces.

As for original writing, would love to work on my untitled WIP about an astrobiologist and team of other assorted scientists brought in by a somewhat questionable facility to study an extraterrestrial artefact and being affected strangely by it, but it’s a bit up in the air plot wise. Would love to answer asks about it though if anyone is interested 😭

Recommend a book

Definitely mentioned it before but:

Legion: The Many Lives of Stephen Leeds by Brandon Sanderson

“Stephen Leeds is perfectly sane. It's his hallucinations who are mad.”

This is like speculative fiction/thriller/mystery that’s hard to explain, but perfect balance of humour and sincerity, sci-fi and reality, and character and plot, probably my favourite standalone novel ever (well it’s really 3 novellas that somewhat connect and come together to form a novel, but either way).

Survive the Night by Riley Sager

Charlie Jordan is being driven across the country by a serial killer. Maybe.

This is a thriller book set in the 90s that as its title suggests, takes place over the course of one night, where a troubled, film-obsessed college girl (and unreliable narrator) who recently witnessed her friend’s murder (but can’t recall the killer’s face) decides to travel back home via a ride share where her driver may or may not be said killer, and has to, you guessed it, survive the night.

Now, this is actually one of Sager’s lowest ranked and seemingly most universally hated novels, whereas it’s the only one of his I actually thoroughly enjoyed/didn’t find mediocre and thought had a sense of style as I like the almost cinematic way it was written?? It was fast paced, it was fun, it had unique prose, and I think it perfectly captured the vibes of a cheesy 90s B-movie (said as a compliment).

Recommend a fic

I still cannot recommend From Out the Ocean Risen by Bluestar enough, it acts as a sequel fic to the movie Pacific Rim, and has some of the most gorgeously well executed cinematic prose and imagery I’ve ever read, not to mention impeccable character dialogue, and an incredible grasp on the balance between drama/angst/action/heart/humour.

What’s a Little B&E Between Friends by VoiceOfNurse is also a fantastic Pacific Rim series with a solid grasp on both character dynamics/POV and style. A fascinating, very humanizing character study, both angsty and fun.

Recommend Music

I’ve suddenly never heard a song in my life.

The Killing Moon by Echo & The Bunnymen is stuck in my head again, so, *tosses that at you*

She Sells Sanctuary by The Cult also in my head so *throws that also*

Also, even though I haven’t actively listened to them in a while, I’m still still actually super excited for Green Day’s new album, so *one more toss*

Dilemma

The American Dream is Killing Me

Tagging if you want to do it no pressure!: @the-angriest-bunny-of-the-fandom, @writing2sirvive, @druidx, @universalfanfic, @karolinarodrigueswrites, @multi-lefaiye, @transmasc-wizard, @drabbleitout, @merelyafigment, @aritany, @rockium-z, @caffernnn and anyone who wants to do this, feel free to say I tagged you, you’re tagged.

#tag game #tagged

[love-kurdt]

This is Me Trying (Mike's Version) (byler): 1

word count: 6,469

warnings for this chapter: lots of sexual content!! underage drinking, mentions of drug use, roofie mention bc college, internalized homophobia, maaaajooorrrr depression. this is semi-autobiographical so pls be kind <3

in short: if you are emotionally or mentally vulnerable, please dni.

If someone were to ask me what time it was, I wouldn’t be able to tell them. First off, I would look down at my watch and realize that said watch was not on my wrist. I would then ask myself why my watch was not on my wrist, then I would remember, oh yeah, Will has a matching one, and I was dead to Will, so I didn’t wear the watch anymore. Time was just a construct, anyway. In the end, I’d probably mess around with the person asking and say some shit like, “It’s 420:69.” I was drunk, though, so I was allowed.

I was at some frat party, spending what was my last official night as a student at the University of Indianapolis with the brotherhood of Alpha Lambda Dickhole. I was seated on some musty couch, stained with whatever the fuck that was, with an empty glass resting between my legs and a bottle of whiskey in my hand. I’d given up some time ago on trying to pace myself. Some kind of synth-infused rock music vibrated across the floor, and I could feel the bass reverberating in my bones, which would normally make me want to get up and dance, but I wasn’t particularly in a celebratory mood; I was only halfway through my sophomore year, and had just dropped out.

It wasn’t like I hadn’t seen this coming. I had been spiraling for a long time. It all started over summer break between my senior year of high school and my freshman year of college. I never even wanted to go to college in the first place. What was the point of spending tens of thousands of dollars on a creative writing degree when I could just freelance and eventually get published? But my father insisted that I at least attend a state school with cheaper tuition, claiming, “You can’t run on ink and espresso, son. You have to put in the work and have the credentials to show for it.” On the bright side, it was a miracle that Dad had enough confidence in me to allow me to pursue writing at all. But I was on thin ice with my father, had been for years, so I agreed to at least think about college.

My friends chose their respective schools fairly quickly; Dustin had gotten in with a full ride scholarship to Massachusetts Institute of Technology, Max and Lucas went to UCLA as sports science and physical therapy double majors, El went to Vanderbilt University in Nashville to pursue a degree in therapy, and Will… Will went to Chicago. Which school he went to, or if he went to college at all, I didn’t know. To study what, I had no clue. Where he lived within the city, I hadn’t the slightest idea. That’s what happens when your ex-best friend up and leaves without so much as a “goodbye.” I considered the day Will left to be the day my world stopped turning and time froze. So I took off my watch and hid it in a shoebox under my bed with the rest of my mini-shrine.

Dr. Owens and his team had arranged government-mandated counseling for all of those involved in the Vecnapocalypse. A year in, though, I didn’t see a point in going anymore. I was healed. I was fine. I was ready to move on with my life. Well, everyone else in the Party was ready to move on. Why wouldn’t I be? It probably hadn’t been the best decision on my part to stop going to therapy, but without Will in my life, I didn’t have much of a reason to stay in Hawkins at all, and I really didn’t feel like dredging up my past once a week to pick apart as if I were in an anatomy lab practical. Besides, I didn’t feel like arguing anymore with my dad. So, I begrudgingly packed my bags and headed to Indianapolis, killing two birds with one stone.

When I got to campus, I was assigned to dorm with this guy named Elvis (yes, as in Presley). Aside from his stupid ass name, Elvis Kuiken was a good roommate. He was a senior who kept to himself most days, when he wasn’t working. He was clean, at least by my standards (which were on the floor, literally and figuratively speaking), and he was also part of a fraternity. He’d always bring me along to parties, all in the name of the formative freshman experience. What this “experience” primarily entailed, I came to find out, was alcohol. Weed, too, no doubt… but extra emphasis on alcohol.

I didn’t want to admit it, at least not to others, but I became a lot more withdrawn since my falling out with Will. I wasn’t as outgoing, as daring, or as extroverted as I used to be. I was used to being an outcast of sorts, so not much changed there. Except now, where I used to have the confidence to at least approach people and introduce myself– “Hi, I’m Michael! Do you want to be my friend?” “Yes.”– I couldn’t do that anymore. It was like my communicational skills had completely disappeared. But during my first party, I took a shot of tequila and must’ve made at least ten acquaintances within the three hours I was there. If only Troy could see how popular I was now. He’d piss his pants… again. It was like a light flickered on in my head; the more I drank, the more sociable I’d become. I took this epiphany and ran with it.

One time back in— September?— or something, I had been at a party for a few hours, and came up with the idea to try every single type of liquor to ever exist. I picked up a shot glass and stood at the counter for a good fifteen minutes, downing shot after shot. I woke up the next morning with a throbbing headache, unsure of how I even got back to my dorm room. But then I looked to my right and saw Elvis’s head resting on my very shirtless, hickey-covered chest. Oh. That’s how I got home. I wasn’t able to wear any shirts with collars below my clavicle for days. I didn’t hate it, though. In fact, that wasn’t the last time my roommate and I hooked up. Stumbling through the door, making out in the dark, and whispering each other’s names into otherwise complete silence until the sun came up became a regular occurrence.

Christmas break arrived, and most of my time back in Hawkins was spent trying to avoid Will. And from the way I saw it, Will was everywhere. He was the art on my bedroom wall. He was the yellow sweater that hung in my closet, probably the only colorful item in my entire wardrobe that I hadn’t thrown out, because it was Will’s sweater. He was the shea butter soap on the bathroom counter. He was the hot cocoa mix in the kitchen cabinet. He was the D&D box buried underneath my bed that I neglected since Eddie’s death in 1986. He was the Party. So I didn’t leave my basement for the entirety of mid-December to the beginning of January, with the exceptions of family dinners and sleep. I won’t lie, I was a little bit ashamed of how I’d handled things with the Party. I definitely shouldn’t have iced everyone out. My friends made various attempts to get the Party back together, and always invited me, but I’d always have some kind of excuse as to why I couldn’t hang out with them. They eventually stopped calling.

One Saturday afternoon, I was sprawled out on the couch watching Star Wars: Episode VI– Return of the Jedi, and Nancy and Jonathan came barrelling in through the basement entrance, practically swallowing each other whole. I missed the feeling of being in love. I’d cleared my throat when it started to get a bit too steamy, causing the lovebirds to jump apart in shock. Nancy smoothed her skirt while Jonathan lifted a hand into the air to greet me. I nodded back in acknowledgement. This silent interaction had me wanting to crawl out of my skin. All I wanted to do was ask Jonathan about Will; how Will was, what Will was doing, if Will had met anyone, if Will remembered me. It was like Jonathan could read my mind, because he said, completely unprompted, “He still thinks about you, Mike. He hasn’t forgotten you.” I actively committed those words to memory.

I ran into Joyce during a last minute school supplies shopping trip to Melvald’s on my way out of town. It was bound to happen at some point, what with Joyce owning Melvald’s now. I’d expected it to be awkward, but was proven wrong when Joyce practically jumped the counter to engulf me, her honorary third son, in a hug. She’d pulled me all the way down to her level, so I was bent at almost a 90 degree angle, but I didn’t care.

“How’ve you been, sweetheart? How’s Indy treating you?” she asked. That was a loaded question. It would be spectacular if your son hadn’t left, but whatever.

“It’s treating me well, I’m mostly taking my gen eds right now, but I’m always writing my own material when I’m not in class,” I grinned, trying my best to not let it look fake or forced. Joyce seemed to buy it.

“I’m so glad to hear that. You know, I always knew you were going to become a writer,” Joyce smiled, and I nodded, staying as neutral as possible. I knew where she was going with this. “I remember it as if it were yesterday,” bingo, “that in the mornings after your sleepovers, you and Will would sit at the dining room table with your eggs and maple syrup and work on your comics for hours. Do you remember that?”

“Yeah,” I replied wistfully, “I do.” I glanced down at my shoes, trying not to let any tears escape. The amount of crying over Will that I’d done just within the time I was back home was pathetic. But Joyce didn’t seem to mind in the least, because she reached up and ran her thumbs over my cheeks, where a few stray tears had traveled down against my will. 

“Oh, honey,” Joyce held my face in her hands, eyes filled with compassion, and pulled me into another hug, holding me close. I had always loved Joyce, but this mutual understanding led me to reserve a special place in my heart for her.

We engaged in a little more small talk before she personally walked (dragged) me through the store with my shopping list to retrieve the items I needed. When she checked out my items at the counter, she grabbed a pen and post-it note, wrote something on it, and handed it to me. I held it up to eye level with a shaky hand.

“That’s Will’s phone number, he’s at the American Academy of Art,” she whispered. My eyes widened, and I breathed, “Thank you, Ms. Byers. So much,” before heading out the door to my car. I sat in the parking lot for a solid fifteen minutes, causing myself to fall behind schedule, but I had Will’s phone number. That was a good enough reason to be late, in my book.

After what felt like a fucking eternity, I was finally able to return to campus. I’d set my suitcase down next to my bed, and took a minute to collect my thoughts prior to unpacking. All of a sudden, Elvis clumsily tripped over his own feet through the door, sheepishly grinning at me, having just been startled. I felt a blush rise to my cheeks, followed by a quiet, “hi.” Seconds later, we were all over each other.

It was around this time that I finally came to terms with the undeniable fact that I was exclusively attracted to men. I’d always believed my sexual preferences existed as a strict ratio of 70:30, with 70% being women and 30% being men. I’d always been aware of my attraction to guys (Will); I’d been sure of that for as long as I could remember. The confusing part about it all was when El came into the picture, and everyone and their mother expected us to start dating. I was, like, twelve at the time, so of course I went along with what everyone else wanted. That backfired majorly when El confronted me with tears in her eyes, asking, “But… you don’t love me anymore?” and my impulse response was, “I don’t even think I loved you romantically to begin with.” It took a long time for me and El to repair our friendship following that conversation, and to help me bullshit my parents into falling for some half-baked reason as to why my “sweetie pie” and I broke up so suddenly.

When I started my… situationship with Elvis, though, I began to question my 70:30 ratio. Elvis, to put it simply, was hot. He was taller than me, just by an inch, but it didn’t stop him from calling me “short.” I found that hilarious, as I stood at a staggering six foot three. Elvis had tanned skin, blonde hair which he kept in a preppy side part, and bright eyes that captured the essence of the bluest sky. He had full lips, a chiseled jawline, and a lean yet muscular build with the likeness of a Greek statue. Elvis had the most gorgeous hands. I particularly liked when those hands pinned my wrists above my head. I also liked when those blue eyes bore into my soul in the way that only one other pair of eyes had ever been able to do within my mere eighteen years of life. And I loved when that chiseled jawline, rough from lack of shaving, rubbed abrasively against my neck.

Elvis was adamant on there being no strings attached. He made sure to remind me every time we did anything remotely sexual, but over time, those words began to lose their potency, like watering down vodka to make it go down smoother. My wide eyes and “yes, of course, I understand”s were slowly replaced with absentminded “mmhmm”s. I figured that as long as Elvis never picked up on my social cues (or lack thereof), and as long as he never knew about me secretly developing more-than-fuck-buddies feelings for him, I would be in the clear. But eventually, something in Elvis had melted away, and he started calling me “my boy,” “love,” and “sweetheart,” amongst other gross (sweet) pet names. I assumed that Elvis had caved and given up on whatever rules he’d set for himself.

Regardless of the apparent stability in our situationship, my mind dwelled in a constant state of disarray. I knew I was not straight. I wasn’t even sure if I was bisexual. I became more conscious of who caught my eye in public, and what I wanted out of the people I interacted with. I discovered I didn’t feel the same way about curves, boobs, or soft lips as I felt when I saw a pair of broad shoulders, a sharp jawline, or a tapered waistI felt different.

Part of me resented  myself for being different. I hated the idea of being a target, whether it be for my family, the government, or society as a whole. I'd tried to change. I hooked up with a few girls over the course of a week, “just to see something,” but I'd spent the entire time wondering when it would be over so I could go home. All of those girls either got bored, weren’t satisfied, or got mad that I couldn’t get it up— if not a combination of all three— and left. I scared myself a little when I didn’t feel the slightest bit guilty.

When my encounter with the last girl fell through, I decided I didn’t want to live my life in sexuality limbo anymore. I ran all the way back to my dorm hall, hauled ass up the stairwell, and let myself into my room. Elvis spun around from where he sat at his desk, and could barely get out a “Hey, man,” before I was ripping Elvis from his chair and pulling him in, kissing him with all my might. It didn’t take long for Elvis to reciprocate my advances, kissing back with equal intensity and pushing me back until we hit the side of Elvis’s raised bed frame. I huffed a laugh against Elvis’s lips before hoisting myself up backwards and onto the mattress, watching as Elvis chased after me. He pushed his knee between my legs, and I took the hint, wrapping my ankles around Elvis’s hips. “I want to be with you, baby. With strings, all the strings,” I had told Elvis before pulling him down for another searing kiss, and… that was when my memory cut out for the evening.

I woke up the next morning, hangover hitting me like a truck, to see Elvis already awake and dressed, lifting boxes onto a trolley that was stationed in the middle of the room. Through squinted eyes, I noticed Elvis’s side of the room was essentially bare, save for the dorm furniture, which belonged to the school.

“What’s happening?” I croaked out, and Elvis dropped the box he was holding onto the pile with a loud thump. “Too loud. Headache,” I whispered sharply through gritted teeth.

“It always is too loud, isn’t it?” my roommate laughed wryly to himself, not making any effort to be any quieter. I sat up, rubbing my eyes and ignoring the fact that I was naked and in Elvis’s bed, the only thing that hadn’t been packed up yet.

“What the fuck, Elvis? What are you doing?”

“I’m moving out today, remember?” The two young men finally gained eye contact, and I felt my stomach drop like I was on a roller coaster. “I’m graduating in a few days and need my stuff out by this afternoon.”

Move out was today? Vecna must have been back with a vengeance, because how else would time move so quickly on its own? Sure, Elvis mentioned in passing, like, a few weeks ago, at most, that he was leaving soon. But it still didn’t make sense, because it was only… What, March? No, The Phone Call™ was a while ago. Was it April? My mom called me at least a few weeks prior to wish me a happy nineteenth birthday. Plus, weren’t commencement ceremonies scheduled for the weekend of– “What’s today’s date?”

I watched the blonde in front of me unsubtly scoff with impatience. “It’s May 1st, Mike.” I could only blink back at Elvis in response for a few seconds while I tried to process the fact that my brain was capable of skipping over whole months of my life. There was no way it was May 1st already. 

“No,” was the only word I was capable of saying.

“Yet here we are, baby,” Elvis sneered as he whipped his comforter off of me, leaving me exposed and humiliated. “Time flies when you’re blackout drunk. I suggest you try and get your drinking under control, before you end up having to drop out.”

It was like Elvis was a completely different person, completely different from the man who had fucked me senseless the night before. What did I do to deserve this? I didn’t do or… say anything? Oh no. Now I knew what was going on. I drank too much, opened up, and blurted out loud that I wanted to be in a relationship with Elvis, who didn’t feel the same. my face was on fire with embarrassment.

I scrambled off the bed and ran to get dressed while Elvis pulled the last of his sheets off the cheap university mattress. He didn’t fold them, and instead balled them up and shoved them in the trash. I could barely breathe. I merely stood there and watched as my gorgeous Greek (actually Dutch) god of a roommate left our shared room for the last time. Well, I seemingly dodged a bullet. What an asshole.

I was sad that Elvis was gone, but it didn’t completely destroy me the way Will leaving did. What it most likely came down to, in Elvis’s instance, was a horrible case of internalized homophobia. I was very familiar with this mindset; I'd fought a gory, gruesome battle with my own mind for my entire adolescence, at war with myself to prevent acting upon my ever-growing romantic love for Will. But one day, my feelings finally retaliated, and my life immediately went to shit.

“What are you doing, Mike? Is this a joke?”

“No, Will, I’m in love with you.”

“Don’t say that. Please don’t say that. You don’t mean it.”

Comparing the two inevitably led to some old memories resurfacing to haunt me, but I felt strangely lucky. I'd been let off easily. Despite the way I stood completely stupefied in my dorm room, I knew this was temporary, and had full confidence that I'd be able to recover from this pretty quickly. Said confidence was probably the only thing that saved me from losing my mind. Well, that, and the pressure to pass my classes distracted me for a few days. Without having done much studying at all, I army crawled through my finals and barely made it out alive.

About a week later, I moved out of my dorm hall and into an apartment about two miles away from campus. It was a pretty nice place, considering the rent he (my father) paid for it. I got a job at the local coffee shop… which I lost before the month was up, because he never showed up to my shifts. I'd been shocked when Ted insisted upon co-signing the lease, because I didn’t think my dad would be willing to help me stay away from Hawkins. On the other hand, though, it made sense when Ted told me flat out that he wanted me out of the house. I didn’t blame him; I'd been referred to by my father as a “leech” on multiple occasions during my stay over Christmas break, which pretty much tracked. I felt a little guilty about that one.

I appreciated the independence, I truly did. It was a great feeling to have my own room again, to have a more comfortable desk chair to sit at while I drew up plans for a new fantasy novel starring a gay protagonist, to have a bathroom to myself, and most importantly, to have a full-sized refrigerator to fill with all the alcohol I could ever want. But sometimes, late at night, I would catch myself getting a bit too sad.

The entire summer was an endless cycle. I would wake up and make a pot of coffee. I'd sit down and write a chapter or two of my book, and stick to doing that for a few hours. I would check the time (on my wall clock, of course) and take a lunch break, which was usually a box of Annie’s shells and white cheddar. After I'd haphazardly tossed my singular bowl and fork into the sink to be washed later, I'd go back to writing. This wouldn’t last long, because I'd get distracted after smoking a joint, and probably end up staring at that one photo of myself and Will from senior year (Jonathan captured the moment: I had, by some miracle, perched myself up on Will’s handlebars, and Will struggled to hold his bike steady because I was laughing too hard) that sat framed on my desk. I'd snap out of my trance ten minutes later and mentally kick myself for staring for so long, which led to grabbing some form of alcohol and getting wasted, like all my potential. I would make one last attempt at writing and fail miserably. I'd stumble into the shower, and drag myself through my apartment until I found my bed. Most nights, I would end up crying myself to sleep, staring at The Painting™, which I'd tacked up on my bedroom ceiling as a form of self-punishment. It was a sad way to live, really. So I vowed that when the school year started up again, things would be different.

That was how I ended up at the library in late July, browsing the mythology section, squinting at titles printed on spines while my lips formed a straight, thin line. I knew I was officially a hermit when even the library gave me social anxiety. I'd just pulled a rather old looking book off the shelf when a tenor voice behind me caught me off guard.

“Never thought I’d see the day that book would leave the shelf. You must’ve had to brush off, like, a hundred years’ worth of dust just to get to the cover.” I twisted around to put a face to a voice, and was pleasantly surprised when I met eyes with a short guy (well, to me he was short; he was probably, like, 5’9”) with dyed, firetruck red hair that fell over his forehead in a sweeping motion. I liked how he wasn’t afraid to be bold.

“You’re definitely right about that,” I smirked, setting the book down and watching as the growing pile teetered from side to side on the table’s surface. I couldn’t decide where I wanted my story to go next, let alone if I wanted to continue with my current plot at all, so I'd planned on taking a bit of inspiration from… well, everything.

“So you’re into mythology?” the guy asked, and I shoved my hands in my pockets, leaning against the bookshelf as I focused my gaze down. He had pretty eyes. They were hazel, but not too green, not like–

“Yeah, I’m a creative writing major, and I’m trying to expand my horizons a little,” I replied, sitting down at the table. “Like, not to discount the genius of Tolkein, because he literally founded my childhood, but sometimes it’s good to go back to the basics and draw inspiration from there.”

The guy shrugged, and sat across the table from me. “Nothing wrong with that. I think it’s really smart, actually. Or else stories end up getting repetitive and dull.”

“Exactly!” I pointed both index fingers in the guy’s direction, as if to say, “Finally, someone who understands!” I struggled with this concept lately; the uniqueness factor. It turned out that having a male protagonist who just so happened to be romantically attracted to other males wasn’t enough reason to get a book to sell. I needed something else, something of substance, and something that wouldn’t remind readers of other books they’d previously read. “Are you into writing as well?”

“No,” the guy shyly smiled, “I’m just into guys who write about mythology.” Pardon? Was this masculine male-dude-man hitting on me? In public? I wasn’t complaining, but I hadn’t necessarily picked up on any hints. Although, the dyed hair should’ve been a dead giveaway.

“Oh. Um, I– wow, okay,” I stuttered, diverting my eyes to my books for a few seconds to process what was being said before returning to an expectant pair of hazel eyes still looking right at me. “I’m Mike, Mike Wheeler.”

“Wyatt Bowman.”

I cleared my throat. “Are you free in an hour, Wyatt?”

“Yeah, why?” Wyatt raised an eyebrow, causing me to huff a nervous laugh, tapping my Ticonderoga pencil against my spiral-bound notebook at the same speed my knee bounced up and down underneath the table.

“I just gotta take some notes from here, then I was thinking we could… hang out, or something?” I glanced up hopefully at Wyatt.

The corners of Wyatt’s mouth curved upwards as he repeated, “Or something?”

I nodded, confirming our silent sub-conversation.

“Cool. That sounds like a good plan,” Wyatt said, tapping his fingers on the edge of the table as he rose out of the seat and headed for the exit.

“Cool,” I whispered back, reminiscent of a certain afternoon in a certain town in California in a certain room with a certain boy that made me feel a certain way. But that was the past, and I believed I was ready for the future. 

When I started seeing Wyatt Bowman, we’d established that our relationship would not be serious. We were, in a small amount of words, friends with benefits. And we were actually friends. We could hang out without getting all hot and heavy. And I didn’t have any objections; I actually preferred the idea of friends who sometimes had sex over the label-less, no strings arrangement that Elvis and I had. It left less room for loopholes of chronic insecurity and self sabotage. It also, in turn, left more room for exploration.

I met Wes Butler in August at my first ever visit to an actual bar. I'd been sitting at the counter with a few of my female friends (Ruby, Alexis, and Julia), and had just received one of the fruitiest cocktails I'd ever tasted when a piece of eye candy, who might as well have been dressed in nothing, lightly tapped my shoulder and asked me to dance. Of course the girls encouraged me, not really giving me an option in the matter, but hey, good dick was good dick. It didn’t really turn into much else; once we’d had a few rounds of unnecessarily loud sex in a supply closet (ironic, but typical), I bid goodbye to my friends, tossing my condom wrappers in the trash on the way out.

I met another guy, Walker Brooks, in September at an off-campus nerd rave. He looked a lot like Eddie Munson, which may or may not have been coincidental. We left the party not even an hour after it began to go to Walker’s dorm. We fucked in between Lord of the Rings themed bedsheets, and I had to endure an excruciating hour and a half of Walker speaking Elvish rather than English. Afterwards, he invited me to join the University of Indy D&D Club, of which he was, of course, the Dungeon Master. I politely declined.

On a particularly difficult October night following being roofied followed by some unwanted advances, I slapped myself awake with one hand as I unsteadily held my handlebars with the other, biking back to my apartment. My grip slipped, and the front wheel hit the curb, which sent the bike to come to a screeching halt and throw me over the handlebars, tumbling onto the concrete. Warren Blakely, one of my classmates in English 101, watched me fall, stopped me from biking again before I hurt myself even more, and asked me what exactly had happened. Once I told Warren what had gone down, he wouldn’t let me out of his sight. Over the next two months or so, Warren kept me safe and let me take control back over my own life. Warren and I had a special bond. If I didn’t still love Will, and if I didn’t have such extreme trust issues, I would have absolutely dated Warren if provided the chance. But I couldn’t, not until I got over Will, so I ended things with Warren. This specific relationship put things into perspective for me. In the end, none of these men I slept with would ever be Will Byers. So I'd either have to get over Will, or find someone better.

On the nights I wasn’t at parties, I was at my desk, writing letters to Will. It was kind of cathartic, honestly. I'd rip a piece of college ruled paper out of my notebook, just like old times, and write letter after letter saying things along the lines of:

Dear Will, I’m sorry. I love you. I’m sorry that I love you. I’m sorry I did what I did to you. And I’m sorry I can’t take it back. I wish we could be best friends again. I wish we could have late night walkie conversations like we used to. I want nothing more than to play D&D in the basement with you for the rest of our lives. Love, Mike

These occasional letters became a part of my nightly routine… whenever I wasn’t too fucked up to focus my eyes on my own handwriting. And recently, it was more often than not that I couldn’t actually fall asleep without drinking. I wasn’t even of legal age yet, and wouldn’t be for another two years.

I stopped attending my classes halfway through the semester, so it wasn’t a surprise when my grades plummeted. My mailbox became inundated with letters from the registrar’s office, advising me to withdraw from the classes I was failing before the pass/fail deadline, but I couldn’t care less; so, not only did I fail out of my classes, but I couldn’t even retake the classes even if I wanted to, because my record forced me into the red zone. And the entire time, I couldn’t feel a thing.

If someone were to ask me what time it was, I wouldn’t be able to tell them. First off, I would look down at my watch and realize that said watch was not on my wrist. I would then ask myself why my watch was not on my wrist, then I would remember, oh yeah, Will has a matching one, and I was dead to Will, so I didn’t wear the watch anymore. Time was just a construct, anyway. In the end, I'd probably mess around with the person asking and say some shit like, “It’s 420:69.” I was drunk, though, so I was allowed.

I was at some frat party, spending what was my last official night as a student at the University of Indianapolis with the brotherhood of Alpha Lambda Dickhole. I was seated on some musty couch, stained with whatever the fuck that was, with an empty glass resting between my legs and a bottle of whiskey in my hand. I'd given up some time ago on trying to pace myself. Some kind of synth-infused rock music vibrated across the floor, and I could feel the bass reverberating in my bones, which would normally make me want to get up and dance, but I wasn’t particularly in a celebratory mood; I was only halfway through my sophomore year, and had just dropped out.

“Hey, by any chance do you know the time?” a deep voice asked, and I lifted my gaze up from my lap to a muscular brunette. I blinked a few times in an attempt to form a coherent sentence.

“I, uh– I don’t—” I stuttered, lifting my bare, watch-less wrist up to show to the guy, who merely lifted an unserious eyebrow and chuckled. He took my hand in his and let it down gently before sitting next to me on the couch.

“It’s all good, man. I was just using that as a reason to talk to you.”

I was surprised someone clocked me that quickly. But then again, I was wearing insanely tight jeans that I'd cut right above the knee paired with a floral print shirt. I wasn’t exactly being subtle. “Really?”

“Yeah, really,” the guy laughed, extending a rough, calloused hand. Did he lift weights? Or play guitar? Or both? “I’m Carter, by the way.” At least his name didn’t begin with a W. Or maybe it did, but the W was silent. Wcarter. Ouah-carter. Wah-carter. Double-you-carter. Dub-yuh-Carter. Cart… Chart… Astrological chart. I made a mental note to check my horoscope. What was I thinking about originally? I couldn’t remember.

Jesus. I was hammered.

“I’m Mike,” I replied, taking the guy’s— Carter’s— hand, but Carter didn’t shake it. He instead let our fingers intertwine, anticipatorily slow. Okay. I could be good with this.

“Do you maybe want to get out of here, Mike?” Carter asked, and I felt a blush rising to my face.

“Sure, yeah,” I breathed, and let Carter pull me up out of my sunken spot on the couch, down some hallway, and into an empty bedroom. I scoped out the place and noticed a photo of Carter with a dog framed on the desk; this was his room. I exhaled in relief. I didn’t want to have sex in someone else’s bed. Never again.

Carter pulled the door closed and locked it, turning around to face me before looking me up and down. I gulped. I hadn’t realized before, because it was so dark, but in the lamplight, Carter’s resemblance to Will was uncanny. He was a few inches shorter than me, and had a muscular build– that much I knew already. Thank god he didn’t have a bowl cut. He had a strong jawline but a subtle softness to his features. His lips were a light pink, the upper one a bit thinner than the lower one. The most similar feature they shared, though, was their bright green eyes, full of life, and something else I couldn’t name… intention? Vulnerability? Yearning?

In my inebriated state, I didn’t notice how close Carter had gotten until I felt two hands snaking their way up my shoulders and joining behind my neck, pulling me down until our lips met. I couldn’t move fast enough, lifting my shaking hands to rest on Carter’s waist, pulling him into my chest and deepening the kiss immediately. Carter was more languid in his movements, while I was more firm and calculated; this felt strangely antithetical. It probably had to do something with my increased tolerance. I knew I shouldn’t be doing this, but if there was one person who knew how to repress their feelings with a series of bad decisions, it was me. Mike Wheeler. My life was already on fire, what more could possibly happen to exacerbate the flame?

The two of us made our way over to Carter’s bed, where we quickly undressed. Carter kissed down my body, and I ran my hands through Carter’s hair. Then he went down on me without warning.

“Ah!” I yelped in surprise, my exclamation becoming a moan almost instantaneously. This was good. This felt nice. This is exactly what I’d imagine–

“Will…”

“Excuse me?”

And with that, the night was over. Carter stopped what he was doing, got up, muttered a “fuck you,” and left without another word. I felt the world zeroing in on me. I could just picture what I’d write in my next letter:

Dear Will,

I said your name while another guy had my dick in his mouth. Do you believe me now?

Love, Mike

next part

homepage

#byler #byler fanfic #byler fic #byler tumblr #mike wheeler #will byers #will x mike #mike x will #mike wheeler x oc #mike wheeler is 6’3 and i will die on this hill #stranger things #stranger things fic #thisismetrying1

[thecarnivorousmuffinmeta]

You said in a previous ask I sent where if Aro learnt that venom had an alien origin, being the equivalent to hot sauce for aliens, that he wouldn't be surprised, but worried they might send in the metaphorical mongoose to take care of the vampire pests.

Well, I'm asking, what if they did?

Not immediately after the alien visitor messed and gave it's human buddies the venom hot sauce, because the answer would be boring. The vampires would have been nipped in the bud before they could become a problem and the entire Twilight series would have never happened.

Let's say, some time after Breaking Dawn, the alien species the original visitor came from finally find out what a big mistake the visitor made. Well, now's the time to fix this mess. So, they create and send in the vampire mongoose to wipe out the vampires. It is designed specifically to kill vampires and won't stop until they have been wiped off the face of the Earth.

I guess what I'm asking is how would the characters, the Volturi and the Cullens in particular, react to this existental threat to vampires? Would they band together in hopes of increasing their odds of survival, or is it every vampire for themself?

... Anon, I hate to inform you that historical attempts to introduce an invasive species to take care of the other invasive species has rarely (if ever to my admittedly limited knowledge) gone well or only affected the targeted species.

Caveat

The vampire thing is actually pretty under control thanks to the Volturi. It's a brutal way of doing things, horrifying, but the law means that anyone who eats too many humans gets the axe.

What this means is I doubt our aliens would notice post Breaking Dawn. They actually think the invasive species wasn't that damaging to the ecosystem, go team, and if they notice anything it's the large population of humans who seem to have done quite well for themselves despite being the only food source of an apex predator.

That's a little strange.

Point is though, I doubt they'd act as they'd consider it under control.

They Release the Mongoose

This fucker kills everything, I'm sure. Look, I'm sure it's designed to hunt vampires, but that doesn't mean it's not causing collateral damage to everything else. That's how life works, if you run out of food sources you have to get creative.

This thing is going to eat other creatures and it is going to be bad.

But focusing just on the vampires as you asked...

Depends.

First, they have to notice this is happening and realize what it means/what they can do to stop it. Probably they won't band together though as it was hard enough getting everything together for the trial.

If Carlisle tried really hard again he could probably get his friends together (but he had a month to do so last time) and Aro clearly has his own people and things going on but the species as a whole, I just don't see it.

Also, what would the vampires even do together as a species that they can't do as individual cohesive groups? I'm sure the Volturi would much rather deal with this as the Volturi versus involving people like the Romanians who will gladly take this as an opportunity to stab them in the back. The Cullens, similarly, won't want to be with those who supported the Volturi and might take this as an opportunity to quietly feed them to mongoose.

Whatever they're doing, they'd probably try to solve it on their own first and then spread the word.

#twilight #twilight meta #twilight headcanon #twilight renaissance #meta #headcanon #opinion

[poewritesgayshit]

Only God knows if you're still taking requests-- but how do you feel about a Fyolai+Sigma where Nikolai convinces Sigma that they should Noncon Fyodor? It can start as Noncon and end with all parties really into it, lol. I leave it to your creative genius, Poe. I just want to see Fyodor bottoming for both of them and hating how much he is enjoying it for a change lol. Mindbreak is also a cute detail if you want. Hope you consider it! 💖💖

↪ ⋆ ▫ ∙ we're what killed the dinosaurs | fyosiglai request 🎉 ∙ ▫ ⋆ ↩

word count: 1.4 k. mostly pwp

description:

Sigma is tired of Nikolai's games, even if the point of this one is to make everyone get along. But he'll play fair. After all, this is the first time Nikolai's used this type of method. (An aphrodisiac that works as a slow-acting poison? Is he serious?) Yeah... Sigma knows everyone can survive this one. So he'll do what he can, even if it means doing something he really shouldn't do.

contains: most of the above and also

fuck or die

fyodor is in a non-speaking role; he is completely restrained and subdued. i wasn't sure how to write sigma being in the more dominant role without nikolai having a very heavy hand in things

trans masc sigma, also trans masc sigma taking dick without protection and getting creampied

notes: hey nonnie thank u for the request! this was actually my first one, can you believe it? and i hope this wasnt too long of a wait! my whole family had covid and i was running a fever. ill crosspost to ao3 once i stop fucking around on discord and get around to it 👉👈 hope u like it

edit: ao3 link is here! https://archiveofourown.org/works/52099318

The last thing Sigma saw before he passed out was the spine of the library book he'd just checked out toppling to the floor next to him. The first thing he saw when he woke up was Nikolai's face.

"Welcome, Sigma! Welcome! Want to play a game?" Nikolai was glowing. Sigma resisted the urge to sock him square in the jaw because he was in survival mode now, and survival mode meant he needed to keep all his fingers.

"I'm not at the library," Sigma said, phrasing it as a statement instead of a question, and Nikolai's face lit up.

"Ding ding ding! Cor-rect! Now, for ten additional points, guess where you are!"

Sigma was not playing his game.

"Probably some warehouse in Yokohama somewhere," Sigma said, because the lights were off, and he couldn't really see, and he was so lightheaded that what he could see wasn't helping much. But after letting his eyes adjust, he realized that the lights wouldn't help. Nikolai had covered every surface with dark green fabric, fabric so thick that he couldn't tell one surface from another.

"That is…" Nikolai paused. "In-correct! Want to buy a vowel?" He ripped the fabric off of what appeared to be a large chalkboard, where the partially-written words 'L - - -  H - - - -' were spelled in permanent marker, along with a half-drawn hangman figure.

Sigma was about to tell Nikolai off for being childish, but then, it hit him all at once, and he stood up… then fell over again, after realizing how weak he really was.

"Nikolai, am I in a love hotel?"

"Whoa! You're pretty smart, Sigma!" Nikolai fanned himself with a paper fan that he'd pulled out of nowhere, and then snapped it shut, tilting Sigma's chin up with its edge. "But you weren't able to figure out that we aren't the only ones in this room."

With a flourish, he ripped the green velvet off of a loveseat in the middle of the room, to reveal Fyodor Dostoevsky. He was bound and gagged, naked, with his legs tied apart. He was covered with a fine sheen of sweat, as if he was feverish, and he looked just as weak as Sigma felt.

"The aphrodisiac I administered to both of you is also a slow-acting poison. 'The effects can be delayed by sexual release…' at least that's what it says here on the bottle." Nikolai tossed a glass bottle over his shoulder. "I have enough antidote for both of you, but first, I want you to compete in another game with me~"

"I've had enough of your games," Sigma said, the furious words dropping from his lips before he could hold his tongue.

"But, Sigma, dear, don't you want to live?" Nikolai asked, and then, he kissed him.

It was true. Sigma wanted to live.

Nikolai's lips didn't feel repulsive—at least, Sigma didn't want to instinctively jerk away when Nikolai wrapped his hand around the back of his neck and held him still. Maybe it was the fact that the aphrodisiac had already taken effect, or the fact that he was scared of him. But Sigma didn't want to move.

From across the room, Fyodor watched them with sharp eyes.

"You know, I was so relieved when you both made it out okay. I thought I might have been broken, because I wasn't supposed to feel that way. When I'm no longer tied to anyone or anything, I truly have free will—or at least, that's what I thought. You see, I've grown attached to you, too, Sigma. I was grieving for you, too. And when I found out you were also okay, I ran as quickly as I could to see you. So, I thought, 'why don't we all celebrate? Instead of killing each other… why don't we all try to survive instead? By showing each other some love… isn't that right?' " Nikolai said.

Sigma felt ill. "So you want to watch me and Fyodor fucking? Is that what you're trying to say?"

"Oh, no no no, you don't need to use that kind of language~ But if you insist~ you might want to do it soon. He's been waiting here for a long time, you know. In ten minutes, he'll pass out~ Thirty minutes until organ failure will start, and in forty-five minutes, he'll become incontinent. Within two hours, if I don't forcibly administer the antidote, he'll die, and even if I do, he won't be able to stand without mobility aids. Should I go on?" Nikolai continued to monologue. He clearly had this all planned out.

Sigma stared at Dostoevsky, tied up in his chair. Fyodor looked pathetic. He was a sobbing wreck—he must be in immense pain, too. Sigma blinked, and Nikolai must have removed all of the cloth that was covering the tables in that split second, because they lay bare, covered with BDSM paraphernalia, vibrators, condoms and lube, even knives and scissors.

Sigma, without thinking, stood up and approached Fyodor.

Once he got there, his knees gave way, and he just… collapsed on top of him. And Sigma stayed there, his head buried in the crook of his neck, rutting his arousal against Fyodor's.

Fyodor was smaller than he was, but Sigma didn't think he was going to crush him. Sigma realized that he'd been undressed in his sleep—this feels like a dream, Sigma thought, listening to Fyodor's pathetic whines as he rubbed his clit up against the head of his cock. He realized, without acknowledging it fully, that he was making just as much noise as Fyodor was, and that somehow, he was so wet that he could just… slide Fyodor right inside of him. And he did just that, acting on impulse and sinking all the way down so Fyodor's cockhead could nudge against his cervix.

 What happens if he cums in me? 

This thought felt like it was happening in a distant memory as Sigma fucked himself hard on Fyodor's shaft. Fyodor screamed through his gag and he figured the other man might have already finished… but he must have thought too soon. A glance over his shoulder revealed that Nikolai had his cape draped over his lap and was playing with something in between his thighs. It didn't take a genius to figure out what he had buried in that cape, and where it had ended up. Sure enough, Fyodor's sobs of overstimulation were because Nikolai had buried himself up to the root and was painfully teasing his prostate.

Sigma, feeling a little bit bad for him, cupped Fyodor's face and kissed along his jaw as he struggled in his grip. Fyodor looked like he was close to an orgasm, but Sigma hadn't gotten anywhere near his own. Sure enough, he shuddered in Sigma's arms, and Sigma felt him release inside. The morning after pill wasn't easy to acquire, and he was already trying to figure out if he'd have better luck just going to Yosano—but suddenly, as he was dismounting, something stopped his train of thought.

When Sigma tried to get up, Nikolai blocked his way. He was behind him, holding him still. He wrapped a hand around his neck, and that was when Sigma screamed. But Nikolai wasn't trying to kill him. He removed his hand as soon as Sigma relaxed and slid back down, filling himself once again. Then, he... grabbed his hips, lifting him and slamming him down. Nikolai went one step further than that, wrapping one hand underneath each of his thighs and using all his strength to pick him up. picking him up. He was manhandling him and sliding him up and down on Fyodor's cock—It felt unbelievably good, better than anything Sigma could do on his own. He then pressed something into Sigma's hand, then guided his hand down and against his cunt. It was a vibrator, something Sigma had never bought or used before. And when he switched it on, the stimulation plus whatever Nikolai was doing to him made him want to cry. Sigma sobbed, burying his head in Fyodor's shoulder as Nikolai helped his friend use his body as a living fleshlight. He didn't even realize that he was having an orgasm until three minutes into his second one. The buildup was just as intense as the climax itself, and his body just kept going, spasming, sandwiched in between Fyodor and Nikolai for what seemed like hours.

Sigma was only aware that he had passed out when he woke up. Nikolai must have done something while he was distracted; because this wasn't a normal occurrence for him, not in the slightest.

"The antidote," he managed, his mouth dry. Nikolai, lying in bed next to him, perked up when he heard him say it.

"Oh, the antidote~ It's all done! I gave it to you while you slept!" Nikolai said, with the same cadence as if he was telling Sigma he had a birthday present he hadn't given to him yet.

"...Where's Fyodor?" Sigma asked, then, the words crowding behind his lips before he said them as if he didn't want to set them free.

"He's in the other room. He asked for you. Do you want to see him again?" Nikolai said, and he was all sparkles and hearts and glitter and fire.

Sigma was smoke, he was dust, he was ash. He felt like he would blow away in the wind.

"I don't."

#bsd fanfiction #bungo stray dogs fanfiction #fyolai #fyosig #siglai #fyosiglai #fyodor bsd #nikolai bsd #sigma bsd #dubious consent #noncon cw #dubcon cw #dead dove do not eat

[card-queen]

Story Craft: Worldbuilding Basics

First off: know when to delve deeper and when to keep it simple.

There are many times in a story, but especially around worldbuilding when someone will just go too far with curiosity and it crosses over into some kind of pedantic interrogation. Try and see if the complaints are valid or aren't relevant. You might not know immediately, we writers can tend to get a bit defensive and protective about the integrity of our work, but have a moment and think: "Would this take me out of the story?"

People can really lack imagination when it comes to new worlds or concepts, especially ones that don't have scientific backing (not that it would satisfy many of the complaints), so you really just have to be sure of your own judgement. And for God's sake, don't let someone else's lack of imagination stifle your own creative vision. Sometimes islands just float, sometimes rivers turn to ice mid-stream, sometimes mushrooms make you hiccup bubbles -- don't let the dour nitpickers ruin your creativity. Be imaginative.

Okay, now let's get down to the nitty-gritty...

Worldbuilding is more than just places, magic and history. Worldbuilding in a very technical sense is: the rules of this world, with regional variants for each race, county or culture. The setting in stories often gets the short end of the stick. It's something that MUST be in the background and you can't go into too much detail or that's INFODUMPING... and that is true and fair... to a degree. The truth of the matter is that you have to disguise your worldbuilding exposition, for that is what it is. I'll get into that more in a bit.

Why?

One of the first questions you want to figure out is why? Why create or invent a whole new setting? The obvious answers are: >To be an outlet for creativity and imagination, full of what-if's and wonder. >To use the world as another player in my story, creating all new opportunities for horror, wonder, invention, mystery, etc. >To shed light or tackle real-world issues in a new, unfamiliar setting to encourage a different look or fresh eyes on the problem. >To embody elements of your story's theme in a subtle, background manner. ... and other reasons too. One or more of those usually does the trick for me, but you might have other reasons and that's excellent really!

Now what?

So, you know that you want to create a new world for your story. It could be a completely new world, like many sci-fi & fantasy, or it could be something lighter like an urban fantasy or alternate universe story. While all of this can and probably does seem overwhelming at times, all you really have to do is go back to one question: "How can I use my world to enhance the story I want to tell"

That helpful line comes from the Brandon Sanderson lectures on storytelling. I must've watched these lectures 3 or 4 times now. If you've got time to kill or want something in the background to listen to, I couldn't recommend them highly enough:

It's good to keep coming back to your main story, character and themes, but to really effectively get the most bang from your buck... you need to know the tools you're working with...

The Tools

Much like the worldbuilding part of the lectures, I'm going to divide our tools into two categories: Physical & Cultural.

Physical means things like the land, terrain, weather, climate, wildlife, vegetation, magic, species, races, etc.

Cultural means things like religion, governments, laws, economics, languages, social norms, taboos, fashion, cuisine, arts, history, societal roles, hierarchies, etc.

A lot of these elements have knock-on effects for other elements too. If your world is set on floating islands with airships, then this will affect the terrain, wildlife, vegetation, possibly weather, possibly climate, laws, economics, possibly cuisine, etc.

Nothing really exists in a vacuum, everything has a kind of cause and effect, even if it's a small change. Look over each of the elements (and please, add your own to the mix) and think... how can I use this to get more juice out of my story? Let's say you have a fantasy war story... How can you twist the land to get more from your story? Does the land shift and change, as if on sand, making border disputes almost impossible to solve? Is the land almost nothing and the world is mostly in the air or sea? Is the land poisonous in some way but vital to survival? Is the land dying or transforming in some way, making the war more about survival than conquest?

It can be really easy to start brainstorming like crazy. Either with purpose or just for fun! Once you have a solid idea of what you're working with, you know the rules of your world.

The Rules

Each element you choose to work with for your worldbuilding comes with its own pitfalls and advantages.

Whatever you introduce will do a job but it may create problems, or as I like to call them: opportunities. Chances are, whatever you create to do a job in your world is gonna step on the toes of something else that exists in our world or invents new issues that need to be taken care of. This is where you can get really, really interesting.

Let's say that your world is one where magic is as common as language, that it's something that people can study and master. If magic is commonplace and mage is a life path one can take, then ... >Could water magic be used to make crops grow? Could magic be used to eliminate famine and bad harvest? If yes, is there a catch? Is this a refined magic skill or does it become a mundane job for the poor and feeble? If no, why not? Does magic also do something else to the crops? >Is magic viewed as an academic pursuit worthy or respect? A frivolous and old-fashioned pursuit compared to other things like technology? A conflict pursuit akin to acting or music, that anyone can do but only the top tier make it, leaving everyone else to do menial work or teach.

These kinds of scenarios are born from you teasing out the "problems" of your world and dreaming up possibilities, solutions and societal issues that you can use to your story's advantage. If a problem gets you excited to find possible solutions, you know you're onto a winner!

Exposition Protection

Right, so let's get to the point where you've been working forever and a day on your world and it sparkles! You're so proud of the world you've done and you can't wait to show it off--you can't.

I'm really sorry, but people just aren't interested in hearing the magical farming techniques you've come up with and how they've evolved over the ages. Some people are and you should compile a little notebook (with doodles if you can manage) for a kind of behind-the-scenes handbook. People go crazy for supplementary material like that. I know this because that person is me.

But onto how you deal with this issue of exposition in-story. I have two angles, but there are probably more, but these ones work for me!

Method One: The Representative Method

People tend to relate to people more than concepts. So, sometimes I find it better to assign a character to represent a part of my world. The obvious examples are of religious characters. You can share or show off the beliefs, rules, laws and understanding of a religion but have a character be devout. This can apply to many other aspects of the world though: characters can have jobs intrinsically tied to aspects of the world: sky-fishing, water farmer, sand reader, etc. They could have issues that cause problems in their day-to-day life caused by aspects of the world: sky-fish poaching, magic regulations, new laws about sky travel, a newly formed fungus as the result of magical exposure, etc. This doesn't mean that every character should become a talking point for aspects of your world. Please use this method with care and remember that no amount of exposition should come at the expense of a character.

Method Two: The Conundrum Method

Sometimes I wrap my exposition in the form of a problem. The characters can discuss the issue at hand and drop in dialogue that signals to the reader that this is the norm. If you present the audience with a mystery, then they tend to look at the situation and try and figure out how things get uses. By carefully slipping in aspects of the world and how they weren't used or were used ineffectively, the audience can pick up on aspects of your world whilst being engaged in the events of the story.

For example, if your characters are dealing with a murder, they could be looking over the body. One could not that the dead man has his Soulstone with him but no one got his call, concluding that he must have known his attacker. (The audience can infer that this Soulstone can send out some kind of distress signal, possibly other messages). The main character can touch the Soulstone and declare it's cold, meaning the dead man probably didn't even have a chance to use it (while the audience picks up that these things get hot when used, maybe they're powered by magic or some other kind of energy).

In conclusion

You can get a lot of your world shown off by wrapping them in something else that we, the audience, care about; be it a character we love seeing, a mystery we're getting invested in, brilliant battlefield tactics or something else entirely.

It's a lot of work but can be really, really fun to get invested in!

Happy creating!

Want more writing advice? Check out this post!

#story talk #world building #writing #setting talk #it's tricky to get started #almost impossible to stop #and a whole lot of fun once you get going #I never thought I'd enjoy worldbuilding and lore #But here we are

[youraveragedeltafan]

Idea: Crossover/AU where Chloe Bourgeois gets on the Infinity Train and joins the Apex

Idk how niche this is, but I just had a thought once a little bit of my old and slightly older brainrots came back to haunt me: Chloe Bourgeois and Infinity Train, more specifically book 3. Since I have been grasping at creative straws for 2 months, here are a few bullet points/ideas that I may work with later. Big maybe, this newfound motivation might die tomorrow lol. Either way, hope you few people who find this interesting enjoy!

Also mlb season 5 spoilers I think? I dunno I just kind of read episode summaries now I have no idea what season we're on.

Imagine if at 15, Chloe Bourgeois unknowingly escapes to the train right before she was forced to live with her mother, but instead of going on a journey of self discovery, she has the 'fortune' in bumping into the Apex instead.

(oh also while all of this is very found family like, I acknowledge that under the surface these are still three flawed extremely traumatized kids feeding into each others problems and creating/building a cult that kills denizens/destroys cars, like that's all still happening in the background of this LMAO)

When the crying teenager is brought into the mall by the few younger members of the group, it's more of the same for Grace and Simon, and the normal Apex welcomes begin.

Nobody really realizes or cares who Chloe is, due to their ages when boarding the train. It would bother her on a normal day, but given everything that has happened prior to boarding, it kind of sends her spiraling into more crying/anger.

While Simon is in no mood for it, Grace goes into full damage control mode, comforting and leaving her alone in one of the nicer areas of the mall car so she can fully calm down.

Simon is annoyed by it, but Grace plays it off as playing the long game so to speak in order to get Chloe to join. It's a half truth, as she feels empathy for Chloe after hearing a small bit of the events leading to the train picking her up. (mainly that someone left her, bringing up memories of Grace's first time meeting Simon)

Speaking of empathy, this is dialed up to an eleven when Grace gets to know her better, and finds out about her kind of similar living situation (neglectful parents) and her history of friends/conflict at school (she doesn't really go into the whole superhero thing because she feels like it would take attention off her. Besides, they don't seem to know or care much about what's going on outside anyway)

Now friends, Grace decides to take Chloe to her first car raid with just her and Simon. Chloe goes along with it to both get her anger out on something and impress her new friend. I'd expect they'd hit an 'easy' car first, like the cube car from Book 2.

Simon is now annoyed and jealous now that Grace is giving more of her attention to someone else, but after the car is thoroughly destroyed Chloe gives more information on how she got onto the train. As soon as she mentions being essentially abandoned and replaced by her father, he empathizes with her immediately and actually gets pissed off for her as well (Brought to you by Samantha fueled abandonment issues). They bond over the trash talking of her dad, and they become official friends soon after.

With Chloe fully on their side (and their friendship growing fast), they finally decide to tell her about what the Apex is all about. Full theatrics, conductor and everything.

Knowing the crazy stuff that happened in Paris on a daily basis (which is only reaffirmed by the train), she doesn't doubt the existence of the Conductor, but has reservations about his godlike status among the group ("Are you serious? That thing is probably just a glorified sentimonster!"). However, she keeps these to herself, as she deep down, she doesn't want them to abandon her.

What she lacks in 'belief', she makes up for in fierce loyalty. The only thing Chloe has to her name now is her found family The Apex, and she's not just gonna lose that, no matter how many nulls have to pay. Besides, just because she doesn't believe in the Conductor's power, doesn't mean that she isn't greatly invested in beating the train...

(Oh also, a little bonus. Depending on if the headcanon/theory is true, I'd imagine Simon and Chloe would speak to each other in French on occasion to mess with Grace.)

#It was just a passing thought until I realized it would fit nicely within the suspected timelines of both shows. #Chloe Grace and Simon are all around the same age according to both wikis #Miraculous is still stuck in 2015ish while book 3 took place in/around 2020 #sorry if any of the lore is off I'm rusty with Infinity train and EXTREMELY rusty with miraculous #This is kind of a exercise/idea dump to get myself writing again #mlb season 5 spoilers #idk is that a thing still? I don't even watch miraculous anymore I just read the synopsis/watch clips lolol #infinity train #miraculous ladybug #chloe bourgeois #grace monroe #simon laurent

[wulvert]

so ive heard that you have more triptrack lore???????? *stares at you intensely, full of platonic love for you and your work* would you like to tell us about it? :D

hello! thank you so much.... some more important lore is probably upcoming pretty soon so i wont spoil that ( if anyone even notices the lore anyway idk )

some stuff i probably wont go into much more than whats already in the comic is reds backstory, i think you can kinda pick up the vibe of whats going on with him, but i can go into it here + some stuff abt the world :) some people picked up on it fine, and some people still seem confused about it, but the uv levels output by the sun in triptrack are too high for human survival without protective measures. i dropped out of highschool and i never went to classes before that anyway, i have no idea how science works. the ozones fucked in some way. i usually call it murder sun. you can wear sunscreen but its a bit risky, and extremely expensive. only really rich people can afford it & you still need to protect your eyes & mouth. masks and gloves r more common. half masks are more of a fashion item but remove some risks associated with sunscreen.

red always wore a mask but someone he was working with (nefarious work) ripped it off to try kill him a while back, you can see a hand print on his face 125 i think, some people assumed its his own handprint but it came from that person holding him down. they were friends, so hes a bit distrustful of people now, understandably i think. It damaged his eyes a lot but he could afford to get them fixed a little bit, he only had the money to do that and nothing else, his skins still kind of actively injured, not healed bc hes never been able to afford healthcare. Red doesnt feel negative about how he looks at all, its the least of his concern- hes in excrutiating pain 24/7, he just wants his facial nerves dealt with & doesnt care about anything else- hes considered getting the handprint tattood to match the rest of his face, but he decided its better to save his money for other stuff. stealing tex will get him enough money for fairly permanent pain relief, after that i imagine he'll just get a new mask & put some less ugly clothes on and leave the whole stealing thing behind, he's very tired. triptrack wouldnt have happened if red had free healthcare.

just to like state outright, tex is a robot, some poeple believed him when he said "im not a robot", sorry i didnt even think abt people thinking he was telling the truth, my bad. shae ( if anyone remembers her its been 60 years ) isnt a robot, though. Terry is the younger brother, he shares a lot of code with tex but ms tarantula built his body, whereas she didn't tex's. tex is a lot stupider than terry because of creative differences at the time of tex's creation i guess. he can get smarter but he's been very sheltered his entire life. Terry doesnt really care about being a robot (he doesnt care about much) but tex appreciated red not knowing at least for a little bit. Shae will probably sue mt. co. if anyone. remembers. that. either. I think for my next comic im going to make whole chapters and upload them in chunks like that so people dont have to read it so slowly.

also not very important but glass city used to be an ocean!

you can see a little bit of water at the corners of this panel, and theres whale skeletons scattered around. also they tried to built a dome around it to keep the uv out but it was a disaster, shards of it also just hang out around the city from that.

also theres not very many people want windows, so all the more space for advertisement hell.

I definitely dont think i've gotten triptracks stuff across very well, but also i kind of like how vague it is. triptrack has a l o t of issues, and i want to go back to it when its done and make a like,.. triptrack dx or something lol. but its my first comic so like.... to be expected i guess.. ive learned a lot from it. paperteeth also has so many issues & i didnt really put much i learned from triptrack into it but thats because it was supposed to be a fun little side project! that i didnt have to think about too hard! then it exploded and ate triptrack for breakfast. rip. ( i am grateful though i just. didnt think that would happen, if i did, i would have tried harder lmao) so. yeah!

#asks

[lighthouseas]

17, 21, 29, 30!

hi jo! thank u for the ask :)

17 - post a line from the wip you're working on

okay instead of spoiling my bylerween fic more, i'll do something different hehehe >:)

Mike exhales shakily. “I think,” he reiterates, “I have to kill myself.”

i promise this is meant to be funny not sad okay. Okay

21 - tell me about another writer(s) who you admire? what is it about them that you admire?

oh well that's a lot....hm. i guess in terms of fanfic writers, i really admire my beloved @wayward-sherlock. wayli is so talented and all of the ideas she has are like...insane. Bonkers Fucking Insane /pos and how she finds time to execute all of her amazing ideas, i have no clue, but it's amazing and i really, really, really admire them for it. also, they're just super duper supportive and sweet and so fun to brainstorm with !!!!

and. well. noah @pimplepogue i hope u don't mind me calling u out but having gotten some Sneak Peeks of your writing...falls to my knees at your feet. sir you are SO talented and i greatly admire the way you Write About Things and Think About Things and Come Up With Things....ur just. ur so good at it and SO creative and ur big brain gets my creative juices a'flowing (<- hahahahaha. HA). so. yeah. i admire u a Lot in that aspect (but in SO many other aspects too ofc )

+ ofc there's a lot more writers i admire because. well. look at me. but i can't think of them off the top of my head sooooo pls accept this lols

29 - do you have a story that you feel doesn’t get as much love as you’d like?

all of them jk lol um....probably my Iumax fic, yesterday i got so old (it made me want to cry) .... i really really enjoyed writing for them and was really proud of it. also it's just. so fluffy and sweet.

also, probably my highler fic (i believe you've already read it question mark?), i would tell you that i loved you (if i thought that you would stay) which is. kind of a sad fic but whatever i was really proud of it and think it deserves more love....sigh....(desperately needs to write more highler)

also don't mind the fact that both of these are named after the cure songs okayyy

30 - in contrast to 29 is there a story which gets lots of love which you kinda eye roll at?

lol , probably the first byler fic i ever posted tbh strange sleeping arrangements. only because yk. it wasn't That good in my opinion but ended up getting like 1k+ kudos which was like ???? wtf. i mean it's funny i Guess but i feel like i've written SO much better than it lol

fanfic writer ask game

#sorry this got LONG oops #💌 #mutuals 💫 #jo !!! #st.txt #tw suicide mention #<- uhhh kinda