#i really love god's word i'd love to read the short story it's based off of

[heyitschartic]

hi! I saw u recommended artist formerly known as bonesaw, do u have any other worm fic recs? bonesaw is my fav character but god I am so desperate to read good worm fics in general

I have been sitting on this ask for a very long time thinking about it. I've been in this fandom so fucking long that fics have just started to pile on top of each other in my head, so I think the best thing to do is just to recc every single thing I can think of at this moment and give my reason why. There's a lot of good fics out there buried under all the trash! This is going to be a long one, so I'll cut it off here so you don't have to scroll down past all my bullshit. In no specific order...

I have a post here going over some of my favorite authors and the works they produced, so I won't redo what I said there. I think for every one of them, you should definitely check out everything they've done because it is just fucking amazing writing. Most of their stories live in my head rent free at all times, even the stuff I didn't post in that thread.

Glowspider is one of the people I should have included on that list. Her writing is just wonderful, though I'd recc her Pact stuff just as eagerly as her Worm stuff. Lady Tremaine at the Kitchen Table just hits in all the worst ways. For Worm though, Valleyxandria, a story about Valley-girl Alexandria obviously, and Golf Morning, Gold Morning retold as a golf match, are some fucking killer stories. Some of the funniest written. It's Cold Out There Every Day was easily my favorite fic for last year, a story about Missy stuck in a time loop, and still holds my heart in a death grip. BROCKTON is a Riverdale/Worm fusion and oh my god does Glows just nail everything with this.

K800 is another amazing author and no I'm not biased shut up. She's a great writer who has put out a ton of stuff, both Otherverse and Worm. Luz Mala is a great story about an ex-villain on the run in Argentia. Wonderful story and criminally underliked. Forward is the canon-compliant story about Taylor post-gm trying to get better. It's lovely, rips at your heartstrings, and is one of the only good portrayals of how Taylor would be after Gold Morning. Bitter But Sweet is the fandoms only coffeeshop AU and it is wonderful. The name suits it perfectly and Taylor is very gay. Soliloquy is a story based off one of mine (not biased), Taylor who was in the S9 reconnecting with the clone that was made of her during Gold Morning. Very cute, very sad, all that good shit.

Hopeful Penguin fucking PUMPS out words, I don't know how the man does it, and it's all good too, some type of devil contract. He has so many I would recc, but to not fill up the page, I'll give some short ones. Def check out: Flare, a post-gm Taylor dropped in the New York Behemoth fight. It definitely nails a really good from-the-ground look at it. High Soaring Above a perfect look at the life of Hannah Washington before Brockton Bay. Balestra, a love story in the style of This is How You Lose The Time War between Alexandria and Rebecca.

Harbin wisely left this dustbowl fandom, but they are one of the greats. Their snippet thread is wonderful and full of so many great ideas (I love the one about Bakuda switching out with her normal-earth counterpart), but to focus on their stories. Cutting Ties is Taylor with Jack Slash's power. Really well written, interesting concept, but it does do the Rune redemption thing (something the author wishes they hadn't gone with). I still recc it because it's just really good. Overhaul is about Taylor with Sphere's powers, struggling with her tinkering and her disability. Scour is about Taylor with Shatterbird's powers wandering through the desert after she triggered. Very thoughtful, I love it.

Omega_93 needs to post more because all of their works bring joy to my heart. Timeslip is a story about a Taylor clone waking up during the Teacher raid in ward. The reunion between Taylor and the Undersiders is just <3 and all the hints at what's going on behind the scenes intrigues me horribly. See is a short story about Bonesaw in Twig and I think it nails Riley. Just this fucked up girl trying to figure out how to even slightly act like a normal human. Finally, Larva is about a clone of Taylor joining Breakthrough. Just a really fun idea with great execution.

Redcoat Officer has written so many amazing stories, most focusing on original characters too. Ghost in the Flesh is a runaway hit about Sonnie from Love, Death and Robots joining Faultline's Crew. Finished and fantastic! Nightcrawler is an OC story about a Case 53 in Seattle. Finally, for those begging for more Undersiders he made Good People, a Shadowrun cross where the entire worm world is made into the Shadow run world (the shadow verse?) Very fun crime, great writing, and I love how the worlds are integrated!

Discreet is an author that it just shocks me how many fucking amazing stories they've written, banger after banger. It Starts With One is their most famous fic for a reason. A very political story about Alexandria and Skitter fighting it out over Capitalism. A Word is another beautiful story about Taylor with a version of Jack Slash's power. It's a beautiful story about writing and language and being understood. Lost Cat, Please Help is a great story about a case 53 being found far after Gold Morning ended. Really love the main character. The Girl in the Room is an interactive story and I won't say a word, it speaks for itself. Finally One-Sided Rival, a story about Sophia after Gold Morning and how she deals. All amazing.

God this is getting long, only individual stories from now on.

Rank is the Worm story. If you're going to read anything, read this. it's a story about Carrie Kobayashi, a refugee from Japan after Leviathan, joining the PRT and making her way in San Fransisco. It's a fucking behemoth of a story, going all the way from 2004 to Gold Morning and fuck it uses its words well. It covers so much shit, the main character is fantastic, and it is one of the best works someone could create from Worm. PLEASE read this.

Something else to definitely check out is the Parahumans Zine. It's long, it's wonderful, and it covers so many different stories and ideas. A fuckton of love was put into this thing by so many different people and it shows. The little weld article, about a kid saying how Weld inspired him is something I still think about from time to time. Oh my god I love this piece of work.

Bubbles Always Pop is a bittersweet story about Bakuda, who she was and how she got there. It kills me reading it. Some people say it's better without the epilogue, but for me, it would be hard to handle it without.

Throttle is a story about Taylor who turns into a car. It is a fucking insane ride (appropriate I suppose) about burnout Taylor and her best friend Bitch. It scratches that itch for bad bitch stories, I wish there was more.

We Appreciate Power is an insane story. A peggy sue where Emma gets sent back to before Taylor triggers and does her best to stop Taylor from doing it and become as bad a bitch as possible to prove how much better she is.

This is cheating cause it's a snip thread, but Quantum Prompts has some of my favorite snips in this whole fandom. One More and For That Girl make me cry every time I read them.

Just One More Thing, Mr Anders is the story about Columbo taking out Max Anders. The author has a snip thread that is hit or miss(still might wanna check it out, some good stuff there), but this story is a definite hit. Nails Columbo's whole vibe and watching Anders bring himself down is incredibly enjoyable.

In Golden Armour is a love story between Lisa Wilbourn and an OC. I love this romance so much and Corey is wonderful. Definitely one of the better, if not the best, love stories out there.

Voracity is a Case 53 quest about a fun and frightening girl figuring out her place in the world. Cirrata is a delight and her personality just makes you want to see what she does next.

By the same author, Rein is a story about Taylor able to summon Taylor (based off Fate stuff, I don't know that though). It nails the voices of Taylor from four different times in her life and really plays into a lot of fun stuff that would come up in this scenario.

Mixed Feelings is a fabulous story about Astrid, a gay girl born into the Empire dealing with her feelings, her past from a horrible father, and her look towards a future. It can be a very heavy read. This story is a main stay in the fandom, been updating forever, and it's always a joy to see it.

East of Eden, god what a fucking trip of a story. Eden dies and rebirths herself as Taylor Hebert. Shit just gets wilder from there. It seems like a cracky premise, but it plays it so well, managing to make it through the end of the world and end on an upbeat note. I love this story and I hope you do too <3

From the same author, The Countess is perhaps the story I should have recommended first. A Count of Monte Cristo fusion that...well listen, you hear that premise and it manages to mesh the worlds together into a beautiful tapestry. God it's just so wonderful and the kind of thing I'm begging for more of.

City of Salt is a wild story told from a bunch of different viewpoints about Brockton after Behemoth hits instead of Leviathan. It has beautiful artwork, covers so many interesting threadlines, and has an insane companion fic about three Echidna Taylor clones in the Wards.

Agent of Cauldron is the sort of fic we need a lot more of. It fleshes out the worm world in a ton of ways, builds on what Cauldron is and adds so many new and interesting characters. This story is wild and I'd recommend it just to see what they added.

Tabloid was one of the original greats by one of the best artists in the fandom, long gone for better pastures. It follows a cape paparazzi and they are a joy of a main character and the art work is amazing too. A definite read.

Dragon Unbound is another oldie but a goldie. The Dragon that Defiant created in the Epilogue gets free and goes to live her own life. Really fun and entertaining. The sort of thing that should be recommended more.

Diary of a Professional Knockoff about a dorky girl who writes cape fanfiction and finds herself joining the PRT as an intern. Fun antics with social anxiety and tinkertech.

Alright, there are tons more I could post about but this thread is wayyyyyyy too long as it is. Besides, that should leave you thousands of things to read through in the meantime.

#wormblr #wormwebserial #wildbow #fanfiction #parahumans #There's so much I haven't put here too

[menagerie-of-monsters]

Find the Word Game

I know I did one of these recently, but I got a tag from @k--havok and I love doing them, so... Here's more from me, haha. Since last time I did ones I talk about pretty frequently, here's some back-burner WIPs and other curiosities from the depths of my writing folder!

My words are: Sky, Eyes, Cushion, Ruin, and Glass

I'd like to tag @asablehart, @flowerprose, @magic-is-something-we-create, @ceph-the-ghost-writer, @dogmomwrites, @nectargrapes

If you accept, your words will be: Run, White, Tall, Rain, Power

Sky

Here's one I don't talk about much: a totally self-indulgent WIP that I dabble in when I need cheering up. Contemporary fantasy with more worldbuilding than it really needs. Working title: The Angel Wars

Whatever was in the crater made another sound, something that sounded like what a wounded animal might make, a sort of low gasping pant. It moved again, one of the… the wings shifting with a rustling sound. The hump of its shape lifted slightly, then collapsed with a sharp whimpering sound. "Oh my god," I whispered, staring at the shape of the thing, lit awkwardly by my flashlight. It stopped moving. There was the sound of a wheezing, rough breath, and then a hoarse voice said something in another language, something that sounded like, "Voytheya." I didn't have to speak whatever language the thing in the crater was speaking to understand the pain in their voice. That was a plea for help. The thing in the crater… the person in the crater… had fallen from the sky, crashed through a roof and two floors, and somehow survived making a crater in a solid cement floor. The person with big, feathery-looking wings was asking me to help them. There was a fallen angel in a big crater in my basement. Holy fuck. There was a fallen angel--

Eyes

Here's another one that's mostly on ice. This is a story I've wanted to tell for a long time, but I'm not sure when I'll get around to it. It's based on the story of Ker Ys, tangled together with the East of the Sun, West of the Moon fairytale. Working title: The Black Horse

"Is it selfish to say I hope it doesn't work?" she said, sounding wistful. Isabel smiled at her, dropping her chin down to rest on one hand, her sharp elbow on the table. "Very," she said, but her voice was gentle and her face soft. They'd known for years now that today would be goodbye, but they'd never seemed to find a reason to end things. Isabel didn't have the heart to fall in love again, and Kya… Kya had never wanted anything different than what they had together. That Kya had been willing to help her meant all the more, when all she'd had to do was convince Isabel not to go through with it, and she could have had her heart's desire. Right now Kya was looking at her with forlorn doe's eyes, her round face soft and sad. Isabel tried to memorize the way she looked, from the tight curls of her short hair to the sloping line from her chin to her collarbone, the way the light shone off her warm umber skin and the wide flat planes of her nose over her full and curving lips. Right now her dimpled hands were wrapped around the silly cauldron-shaped coffee mug that Isabel had gotten her for Samhain, and for a moment she tried to imagine that today wasn't the last day of her life.

Cushion

Way down in the queue and in dire need of some re-writes is what my sister lovingly refers to as "the spidermance." Fun fact: reading Grace Draven's "Radiance" is what got me back into writing, and this partly-done manuscript was the result. It's an arranged-marriage high fantasy romance with a human woman marrying a drider-like prince to end a war.

She sat down on the low chair that was the compromise to keep either of them from towering over each other, tucking her legs beneath her, and he settled himself onto the cushion to her side. They'd been seated roughly a quarter of the distance of the curved table apart from each other, a balance between being side-by-side and facing each other that allowed them to either look towards or away from each other without difficulty. As servers began filtering into the garden and courtiers found seats at the wrought-iron tables scattered across the lawn, Ciara turned to examine Hislen, to find that he was already doing the same to her. His mandibles were parted, allowing her to see most of his mouth, and he looked a little dazed, if the expressions translated between their kinds. She wondered what he thought of her. He was dressed in a splendor of platinum, pearls, and gossamer silk, the dark blue a good color for his ash-brown skin. His ear-jewelry moved as he adjusted his ears with small motions, perhaps listening in to different conversations in the garden. Plenty of those she'd met in the past two months had filled her own ears with stories of the preternatural senses of the akrrtel, and Ciara was sure they held at least some truth in them.

Ruin

On occasion, I dabble with other genres - who knows if I'll ever publish them, but I've got at least 100k words written in various sci-fi or reverse harem WIPs. Maybe 200k; I've never added it up. This is from a potential quartet. Working title: Summer Heat (Book 1 of The Totality War)

"Nicely done," he said, sounding pleased. "He likes you." "I'm very likable," I said cheerfully, earning a chuckle from Scyran. "Are the two of you friends? You mentioned not many eridani like to far-range." I looked up at the intimidating form of the horned boar and wanted to creep away. Like being an avalanche, I reminded myself. Besides, the range-leader could still see me, and I didn't want to ruin my reputation as a war goddess. I grabbed the harness and vaulted up onto her back, and Scyran followed. He whistled to the sow, and she turned and started walking back down the slope up to the viewpoint. "Kihael is much older than I am," Scyran said. "Nearly fifty. I'm young enough to be his son, and he's a mated man, besides." He sighed, relaxing down against me. "I have never been more than a day's journey from Herrenya. I am no different to him than any other star-eyed young man he tells stories to."

Glass

Peering way into the future, book 4 of Echoes of the Void is The Princess and the Chimera, and being who I am I've already written 10k of it. So here's a peek into 2024's queue.

I moseyed over towards the woman at work, leaning into my mage-senses to observe the movement of the ley magic through the station. The invisible paths of power spread out across the world like cracks in a shattered glass sphere that had been put together again, an ever-shifting map of weak points, strain, and pathways. My teachers had described the ley in so many ways: like water carving streambeds and canyons on the face of the world, like shifting auroras of light, like trails and roads through a dense forest. A deep river rarely shifts its bed, they'd said. If you want to follow something shifting, don't focus on the details. A paved road is easier to follow than a rabbit-trail. I found it much easier to think of the world in fracture patterns. Push here, and the world will break into the shape you desire. Push there, and you'll put it back together again. A crack that's been opened again, and again, and again, is child's play to open for a fourth time; if you want to break something in a new way, you must first determine if that crack will snake too easily to a neighboring break, falling into a familiar path. Old wounds are so much easier to open. Chisels are so much more predictable than sledgehammers.

That's all I've got! See y'all next time~

#mallory dunlin writes #fantasy romance #monster romance #tag game #find the word game #snipperdoodle #wip sneak peek #from deep in the depths of the wip folder

[darcyfangirlsfrequently]

Heartbeat

A short little Garvez story based on the episode where Luke almost gets blown up

(@dungeons-are-too-cold I told you there was more writing coming today)

Can also be read here on A03

Penelope was always there to greet her team after a triumphant return home from a case, so Luke found it very strange that she wasn't there this time.

He looked to JJ, who said, "I think she's in her bunker. You might want to check on her… she was really worried about you."

Luke cursed himself internally. He knew how worried she got about the people on the team, including him, and he hadn't called her to tell her he was okay. Granted, she knew he was alive, but he knew that if their roles had been reversed, he would have wanted a call. 

After a few light knocks on her door, he heard her call out to him. "Come in!"

"Hey."

"Ohmigod you're back!" In a very uncharacteristic move (in regards to him, anyhow,) she leaped up from her chair and wrapped her arms around him. She held him tight, repeating the words "I was so worried," over and over again. He could feel a wet spot beginning to form on his shirt from where she had been crying. "I knew you were alive, but then you didn't call and I just wanted to hear your voice and no one really told me what happened other than you were alive and I was so worried and–"

"Hey, hey, look at me." Luke pulled back from the hug, looking her dead in the eyes. "I. Am. Okay." He didn't know what came over him, but he took her hands in his and placed them over his heart. "Feel that? I'm alive, I'm okay, I'm here."

At that, she started to cry again. "I'm so sorry."

That confused him. "What are you sorry for?"

"For being so terrible to you. I didn't think I'd ever get to tell you. So I'm telling you. Because God knows you profiler types can't stop your heroics for a second, and I can't have you flying off around the world and risking your life without knowing what I actually feel for you–"

He cut her off. "What you feel for me? Don't you mean how you feel about me?"

"Po-tay-to, po-tah-to," she joked nervously.

"No no, those aren't the same things at all." He placed his hands on her shoulders. "What do you feel for me?"

She swallowed nervously, looking up at him, and he knew that they were feeling the same thing. So he kissed her.

It was a soft kiss, a tender one, where Luke tried to make every ounce of affection he had for this woman abundantly clear.

She broke off the kiss just enough so that she could speak, but close enough their faces were still practically touching. "I love you, Luke."

"I love you too." He kissed her again and took her hand, placing it back on his heart. "This beating heart? It beats only for you."

#Garvez #Garvez Fanfiction #Criminal Minds #Criminal Minds Fanfiction #Luke Alvez #Penelope Garcia

[mouseratz]

of course I'm reading the SH2 novel with an English fan translation.

it decides to frame Laura & Eddie's entrance to the town and confirms they entered together (though, I am considering this novel canon/still only a distinct interpretation as opposed to word of God confirmation, unless like, the developers were like oh yeah the book just says exactly everything we thought and meant), which is interesting. I'd heard others say that's what happened but I am wondering how they know each other, as in the game it's implied Eddie and Laura just met (there's a line from James like, how did you know her name? And Eddie's like, well, she told me it) as well.

also just because Laura's an orphan doesn't mean she can just. fuck off and leave wherever she wants. HOW did she get here for real who drove her here did she take a bus....whoever was watching her Fucked Up.....(although I think if the game took time to answer these questions it would be boring. but like. I still have them.)

I do like how this particular version emphasizes James' utter disgust with the monsters, and how instinctually he would like to run, but in actuality reacts with violence (and anger! he viciously hates them because they're disgusting!). which. idk if they'll go there. but almost parallels his relationship with Mary's illness- how he still loved her as a person & wanted to treat her well, but some part of him did find her disgusting as she feared, and it may have increased his resentment of her and led to him violently ending her life (the book also notes how the monsters deserve to die, despite James having little to base that assessment on other than his emotions. he's right, in this case, but if you carry that perspective over to anything else....)

and also once again yes this is an incredibly fucked up way to view someone who's sick but I do feel that's kind of the crucial point of James' character- he knows it's wrong, but instead of being able to properly grapple with that idea, why he's so disgusted and angry, the guilt makes him afraid to do anything but deny it until it comes to a head. the guilt is what makes him come to silent hill, but honestly in some way, I think could also be why he repressed these feelings until he did something terrible, didn't have the courage to acknowledge them, to properly handle them, to accept them as part of a complicated grieving process, instead shoving them away because they're ugly, too, until he couldn't handle it anymore, reaching that terrible solution.

....I also think that's why SH2 resonates so deeply with me- guilt is something I feel a lot. about everything. because my brains just built funny and I've been through an awful lot of bad things on a relatively short period of time on this earth. the game can absolutely be read as a cautionary tale around what happens when guilt guides all of your actions and how you interact with your own thoughts and feelings and your perception of the world. guilt breeds repression and this entire hell is one of repressed feelings and desires and memories.....you felt you had to protect yourself from these feelings because they were ugly, because they were frightening, and now you must harvest what you've sowed.....either face them or let them consume you.

and I absolutely love the concept that, really, the answer to this guilt is not punishment. guilt wants you to be punished, but that punishment achieves very little. your suffering will not change what you've done (but refusing to own up to it, continuing to deny, is still dangerous, as shown in Eddie's story.) you still have to choose what to do with yourself. can you live with it?

it doesn't tell you either way is right. maybe James dying is more peaceful, maybe it is the best choice for him. maybe James can live with it, though, too- he'll still have to carry it, but there could be something outside of this, maybe he will be a good friend or caretaker to Laura. We don't know. it doesn't really matter what he deserves....it only really matters what he does, because no amount of punishment will change what he did, even if you decide he is indeed 100% irredeemable and evil (which I just don't think is what you should walk away with, though- it's undeniable he did something deeply wrong, but the character is fairly nuanced imo).

[mirthlxss]

the way you depict Kyle in off to the races is so fucking real. in fact, each character is so fucking real. i really struggle to find any cod fics/series that really get into the other characters whilst fleshing out the main romance. this feels like i am fully reading a book. it feels like this should be an extension of the actual mw2 gameplay. i understand writers focusing on their ships in series but heavens the way you write and describe what's going on around the characters, then delve into their inner thoughts and feelings. it makes me dizzy.

as a dizzy woman, if i may be so bold, i'd really love to know how you flesh out your characters. lily feels like a friend? its not something ive experienced in fic writing before. like i said, reading off to the races is basically like reading a book!!!!!!!

also, being even BOLDER! any spoilers?

Thank you, Thank you!!

You may be so bold my love, Lily is quite honestly an extension of myself. This may seem totally narcissistic and indulgent (and it is) but I tend to find basing characters off of real-life experience makes things easier to write out, especially when dealing with such out-of-the-ordinary circumstances, I kinda just ask myself, wtf would I do? I am so glad you see Lily as a friend because she should be! She's guiding you through this story so knowing that her character is approachable to the reader makes me so darn happy.

In concern to the boys, my fear in writing cod fiction is that each member of the team is so heavily cornered into their own box that everyone expects them to be written a certain way. In all honesty, it's very hard to navigate them whilst also maintaining some semblance of originality. The only two that come easy are Price and Kyle. My Price is a lot more indulgent, toeing the line between stern captain and concerned protector is difficult but it helps that Lily is such a strong personality that she naturally draws reactions from him.

Kyle I tried to completely flip the script, knowing that from what I've read usually, Soap is usually the guy that befriends the OC, I was very much obliged to shake things up. The whole Kyle being an outcast came very easy as from cod gameplay and my general musings, he does seem to live in John's shadow whilst Simon and Johnny are very pally-pally (fucking obviously).

The hardest to write for is bloody Soap, I am trying to flesh him out more in my WIP chapters but my god, it's very hard to keep to the peppy, cheeky Scott whilst also being somewhat unique from what everyone else has written.

Simon I find neither here nor there, again along the same lines of Soap, he is very widely written about and cliched as a moody dick WHICH happens to just about line up with every COD gameplay ever so, it's hard to deviate without good reason. What I've tried to do is give him motive, I feel this somewhat compensates for his usual crappy demeanour. Also have tried to hint at some underlying feelings toward certain members of the team which also serve as motives for his actions so, in short, MOTIVE!

Sorry this is so long!! I know I take ages to update and what not but I hope this somewhat goes toward explaining a little about why it does take so long, I REALLY DO DEEP THESE THINGS. I know its a silly little fic but I want it to mesh and have deeper meanings, why write something when it has no substance? I try and embellish this as if I was writing a book because that's what feels good to me, so yeah, I suppose I look at the characters as an ecosystem instead of individual animals.

ON SPOILERS.

I will be cheeky and give you some general, random words.

Ring, cosset, armrest and honeymoon.

LOVE YOU BYE

#off to the races #captain john price #mw2 #answered asks #asks <3 #spoilers

[spiritmaiden23]

OH TO BE A WRITER AND HAVE A BEAUTIFULLY DARK AND TRAGIC VOCALOID SONG BASED OFF OF THE CHARACTER’S PRESPECTIVE IN THE INTERESTING ASS STORY YOU CONCEIVED WITH YOUR BRILLANT MIND WITH SAID SONG CARRYING POWERFUL IMAGERY RELATING TO THE STORY WITHIN THE MV!!!  

#I WANT MIKU TO SING MY NOVELS FORGET MOVIE AND TV SHOWS ADPATATIONS #ooc postings. #i really love god's word i'd love to read the short story it's based off of #but while miku's version is good god's word cover by luschka is really really good i am in love with her voice #something very nice about it #whew anyway to have this song on repeat as i begin to save things in the draft for tomorrow starters replies you name it #it's in there!!!!

[rosered2018]

New Podcasts

Since the Magnus Archives ended, I've been listening to a lot of new ones, looking for something just as good and, to be honest, just as long.

I figured I'd let you know what I've found.

SCP Archives. It's been around since 2019, and is based on the entries located at the SCP Foundation website. The episodes I've listened to are basically half drawn directly from the web site and half stories fleshing out the background of the objects in question or the experiments related to them.

The Mistholme Museum of Mystery, Morbidity, and Mortality. This one comes out of Australia, and is almost a gentler version of the SCP foundation. The items it deals with are always supernatural in nature, but the stories behind them, as narrated by the audio guide, are not necessarily tragic. Each season has its own story arc, but they all tie together. As a bonus, the titles in each season form an acrostic that forms a word summing up what's happening in each season.

Old Gods of Appalachia. This one is awesome. It's basically cosmic horror set against the backdrop of the poorest parts of West Virginia, Eastern Kentucky, and down into Tennessee in the early 20th century. It gives you the feeling that you're sitting by a campfire and actually listening to the narrator tell the story, and I think he may actually be from that area. The stories are all connected, but you don't have to have listened to them all to follow what's happening. I found this one through Rusty Quill.

Midnight Burger. This one, I discovered when I was searching something else on Spotify. It's about a woman who lost her job during the pandemic and stumbles into a little diner about an hour and a half outside of Phoenix, AZ. She quickly finds out that it travels in time and across dimensions, and to a different place every night. It's comedy mixed with science, and a bit of philosophy thrown in for color, and well-worth your time. I don't know how much it matters to anyone reading this, but the lead is a Latina woman. It just recently finished up its first season.

Out Of Place. To be honest, I very nearly turned this one off at first because it sounded too much like it was trying to be the Magnus Archives. The main character was a snarky Brit who worked in an archive with a lot of weird shit he really doesn't want to cope with. The nature of the weirdness was what made me keep listening - artifacts that celebrated or were part of events that didn't happen in this timeline. He's given the opportunity to join the organization that's been sending him these artifacts, but refuses because he doesn't want to lose the people he loves.

The second season, which just finished, picks up with his much lonelier counterpart in the organization that had been sending the artifacts. He is still an archivist, but this version of him records the mission reports from reconnaissance teams who have traveled to timelines where the human race is dead and/or dying.

Bridgewater. I literally discovered this one last night. It focuses on a folklore professor who starts trying to solve the mystery of his father's disappearance when his father's badge appears forty years after the man vanished. What initially caught my attention was that it stars Misha Collins (the Angel of Thursday himself) and Nathan Fillion. I've only listened to three episodes out of seven, so I don't know how this one ends yet.

Chickenman. This isn't exactly a podcast, but they were these 2-3 minute comedy shorts that ran on the radio back in the late '60s. Each of the eight albums runs about an hour with roughly 25-30 episodes each. I actually discovered this through my roommate in college, who had a copy of the Best Of Chickenman on tape, and I took a chance and looked to see if it was on Spotify. They deal with a bottom-of-the-barrel superhero (a guy who makes like a chicken on the weekends), the equally bottom-of-the-barrel police commissioner, and the commissioner's secretary who seems to be the one with the brain cell most of the time. As a warning, the weekend segments have an extremely heavy-handed environmental message (again, this was the late '60s and progress hadn't been made on that front yet), but they work as period pieces.

#scp archives #the mistholme museum #dominic guilfoyle #old gods of appalachia #rusty quill #out of place #alternate history #bridgewater #misha collins #nathan fillion #chicken man #dick orkin #midnight burger podcast

[megthemewlingquim]

someone new.

summary: there's an art to life's distractions.

pairing: eventual hades! loki x persephone! reader

warnings: implied smut, alcohol consumption

a/n: here it is, the first part of foreigner's god. as said in this fic's masterlist, these will not be chapters, but rather short stories and one shots that can be read separately or as one whole piece. it's up to you.

i plan to base each part off of one or two hozier songs. this is inspired by "someone new".

is there a right way to fall in love?

    that’s what loki asks himself every day — well, every night — when he spends his free time at bars and gatherings. populated widely with fellow gods, goddesses, and spirits of many colors and passions; these bars are perfect places to find someone new.

    being the god of death, however, puts loki at a bit of a disadvantage. yes, the stereotypes are, unfortunately, true. loki is dark, a little antisocial, and very quiet. beautiful in appearance — death is seductive, at least to the willing.

    ‘the willing’ being many a spirit, many a dryad or goddess or creature who wants bragging rights, or a little nightly thrill. ‘that’s right,’ they say, ‘i had a little dance with death last night.’

loki doesn’t mind the mornings when his temporary partners talk about the nights, but he always cringes when they mention that accursed french phrase — la petite mort. it’s a joke to them. a mockery.

   yet, they stay, and sometimes, they come back for another little death.

    the spirits and goddesses never make a big impact on him. he is with one for a night, then another for a night, and so on. he falls in love every day with someone new and it’s a bore. a bore and a drag.

    dark caresses don’t do much to numb the pain: the pain of loneliness and solitude. the ache in his heart is constant, tearing at his mind whenever it can. alcohol can't do much either — all gods have a very high tolerance. mead was made for them.

   so loki is left with no escape besides those that come from the willing. little deaths. they make him feel loved.

   no...

   no one loves death. some crave him. but they don't love him.

   that’s the common theme running through loki’s head every time he takes someone home with him, or goes upstairs with them to the top floors of the inns he’s at, where the bedrooms are. it’s a distraction.

   however, the cycle ends when, while pointlessly wandering around his usual bar, he sees someone new one night. you.

   you radiate this... this warmth that he’s never felt before. everyone around you seems to be affected by it too - they don’t treat you as the life of the party, but they do gravitate towards you like birds to a nest. 

    and you’re quite shy, but infectiously happy and cheerful. you’re so beautiful, with your bright eyes that he knows are wide and filled with wonder, and your lovely skin that he knows is so soft. and your smile that he knows is so comforting to all who see it.

   to everyone else, you feel like they’ve just wandered into a happy memory, or a sun-lit room that’s pleasantly warm and golden. you feel familiar. ordinary, but lovely all the same.

   to loki, you feel... feel like something he’s only experienced in dreams. so, really, he’s never felt it before in his immortal life: something warm and alive and... and anticipatory. like there’s new things about to come up to the surface — flowers, new animals, maybe. you give off a sense of... he can’t describe it well. a slow and joyful awakening something.

   and you also feel completely and utterly powerful. unstoppable. he’s terrified of you, and yet he’s drawn to you. you’re so fascinating, strange. not as if you could end the world, no, that’s his own job. but it’s as if you can bring the whole world to life, raise it back up again after the chaos fades.

   you feel like spring. like rebirth. like new life.

   and that’s when it hits him.

   persephone. he’s heard the name passed around before, but before now, he has never seen the face behind the name. something about this sparks some fear in him: how would persephone, goddess of spring, daughter of demeter, react to seeing anyone even remotely like himself?

   for a moment, he’s grateful that you’re not looking at him; you’re actually looking at the table, at the drink you’re sipping. there’s a look on your face that isn’t bored, nor afraid. maybe... observant.

   people are around you still. not crowding, but not interacting with you either. it’s like you have a bubble around you, keeping everyone from getting too close. maybe it’s your doing but maybe it’s theirs. honestly, you’d think that dryads and gods and goddesses and spirits of all forms and colors and subjects would be more accepting.

   he pities you. you seem lonely.

   loki takes a few steps forward, betraying his own fear. like the red sea, the crowd parts. some are bold and unafraid, and they give loki varying looks: disgusted, seductive, snarky. you don’t notice him until he sits down in front of you, at the other end of the table.

   “hi,” he says calmly. he manages a small smile. “you’re new here, aren’t you?”

   your eyes lift to lock with his own. immediately, you recoil just the slightest bit. he knows what you’re thinking: wait, that’s hades! god of death... wh-why is he talking to me?

   “it’s alright,” he soothes. “don’t worry. you’ve probably heard of all the stories: gods kidnapping and doing terrible things to goddesses and spirits and dryads. i’m not here to do any of that. i promise.”

   with a single, somewhat confused blink, you nod. “m-my mother has told me a lot about that stuff,” you say slowly, as if saying anything too revealing will somehow alert demeter and get you in trouble. “she’s... she’s terrified...”

   “what is she terrified of? that those terrible things might happen to you?”

   “yes,” you say. “she’s told me that she’s had nightmares in the past. specifically about you. how you’ll kidnap me and take me to hell to live with you.”

   he laughs at that - a rich, amused laugh that takes the shivers out of you. “that’s bullshit. overprotective mothers, yeah?”

   you shrug. “she loves me.”

   “and are you afraid of me, princess?” the last word is whispered. his voice extremely soft - it’s a curious question.

   he notices how you lick your lips. “no,” you say. he notices how your eyes flick all over him. “no, i’m not.” and you seem truthful.

   “smart girl,” he says with a grin. “i hate liars. there’s not a god on in the world that’s ever been truthful. well, besides jesus. yahweh. whatever you wanna call him.” loki leans back, crossing his hands behind his head and bringing his feet up to the table. “your father, though... he’s the worst of ‘em. having children with other women, including your mother, while hera has to sit by and watch, and then lying about it.”

   “we’re gods,” you say. “i'm not trying to justify things but... we’re far from perfect.”

   “damn right we are. we’re fucked up. good. we can agree on something. most days, people think us gods are... perfect things. role models. and, maybe some are. but not us. not the gods of olympus.”

   he pauses, takes a swig from a beer bottle that was not in his hand a few seconds ago. “i was wondering if you wanted to do what humans do.” loki winces at the awkwardness. “when they're... y'know. interested in someone.”

   “you're interested... in me?” you ask, incredulously.

   “yeah, i am.” one sip of beer has loosened his tongue. or maybe that's just his confidence soaring now. “maybe this hasn't been the best introduction to things but i would love to take you out sometime. show you things.”

   “my —” you swallow. “i'd get in trouble.” you shrink away just a bit.

   his smile fades and it's replaced with a sadder, more sincere look. “the best things in life have risk to them. it's time i show you that.”

   and really, he does feel sorry for you. it's your first time at a bar, you're lonely. no friends as far as he can tell. an overprotective goddess mother.

   “think of it this way. i think you're very pretty and i like your honesty. i would like to help you see the world, and to have a little fun, since your mother has obviously never let you do anything in your very, very long life.”

   “i'm twenty—one.”

   “and now i'm wondering if demeter actually has you tell people that, as if you're a teenage mortal.” loki shakes his head, disappointed. “that's pathetic. you're a bajillion years old. you're a goddess! you should be able to do whatever the fuck you want, right?”

   when there's no answer from you, he sighs. leans forward to sit normally, putting both of his elbows on the table and pointing his hands at you. “alright. i'll roll with it for now. you're twenty—one. i guess. you can drink. you can go out alone to bars and other places. you can meet new people. you're an adult. think about that.

   “so, again. i think you're very pretty and i wanna show you around. get to know you. would you like to do that with me?” he raises his eyebrows a little, waiting for a response.

   it's an eternity before you can win a battle in your mind. slowly, you nod, giving him a smile. “yeah,” you whisper. “yeah, i would. thank you.”

   “don't thank me just yet, sweetheart. i haven't shown you anything yet.” he gets up, pushes his chair in.

   before he leaves, he winks at you. “call me loki. it's... not as dreadful... as hades. and... what do i call you?”

   you say your name, your voice quiet.

   “much better than persephone, i think. it suits you. we'll keep in touch, ok?”

   “okay,” you say. butterflies are flying rapidly in your stomach.

   loki leaves you there. he'd much rather take you back to your home himself, but that would be too risky for the time being. for now, he walks out of that bar feeling like the king of the world.

#foreigner's god #loki x reader #loki #loki fanfic #loki x reader smut #loki x reader smut headcanons #loki x reader drabble #loki x reader headcanons #loki x you #loki x y/n #greek mythology au #mythology au #hozier #loki odinson #hades and persephone #au #alternate universe #marvel cinematic universe #loki au #loki drabble #loki fic #marvel #mcu

[cryptiql]

riptide

pairing: dabi/m!reader

warnings: smoking, some mildly suggestive flashbacks + detailed descriptions of drowning. as always, please do not read forward if any of the listed warnings might trigger you in any way, and stay safe <3

words: 4.9k

a/n: welcome to the sequel of smoke signals. perish :)

dabi made a mistake. the knowledge sits in the bottom of his stomach like a lump of lead; his innards twisting into a knot whenever the memory of you crosses the expanse of his sleep deprived mind. the burns under his eyes might as well be bags, but they aren't large enough to bear the weight of his guilt. it isn't much better sitting on his shoulders, but the repercussions of pain are what keep him from letting it go, and that's exactly what he wants. no—it's what he deserves. he deserves the feeling like his head is going to burst; the ache in his spine from too many hours spent hunched over himself with a bottle clutched between his shaking hands; the burning intensity from overuse of his quirk. the extra inches of marred skin serve as reminders of what he did, but it's not half as satisfying when the pain doesn't last.

he wants to scratch at the wounds until they ooze that bitter garnet liquid; until he's suffocated by the metallic scent and forced to endure as the taste of blood engraves itself on his tongue when he chokes on it. he wants to suffer—the slower the better—because not even the strongest alcohol can cleanse his sins, nor the stench of his regret.

dabi made a mistake. it won't be the last time, he's able to admit, because his ego is too shriveled from the lack of your warmth, and his heart yearns for the passion of your kiss that still lingers on his lips. when the loft echoes with fragments of the city's ambience, drowning him in an incessant racket, he longs for the lighthouse. this place is infested with selfish ingrates, scuttling about in search of the next outcast to torment, and it makes him wish he still had that safe space at the shore. your siren song was a drug to put him at ease, and now he is without it, and the withdrawal has taken effect.

he knew this would come to pass. dabi overdosed on your love; your affection; your everything; all while watching the consequences unravel at a snail's pace, almost as if he were being teased by the inevitable end. he let it happen. he did this to himself, so he won't shake his hands at the sky, cursing gods he doesn't know exist; as if they would concern themselves with the faults of men like him.

he knew this would happen.

but then, so did you. you had to have known by the empty space in your bed where he used to lay; by the dates that kept getting postponed and the meaningless promises made to make up for them; by the shortage of visits, even just to say "hello" before he dropped from the face of the earth once more. if this were true, it meant that you were suffering just the same—nay, more than him, by forcing yourself into a state of compliance whenever he told you it was time for him to go. dabi could pretend like he didn't see your fingers twitching; resisting the urge to reach out for him; just as he could pretend like the rivulets of tears on your cheeks did not exist, though they begged to be swept away by him. god, he wants to hold your face again, noses brushing together and your dreamy sighs melding with his raspy laughter.

he had told himself that you wouldn't deter him from his goal, but even that seems like a pipe dream now. he feels like an underachiever, chasing a future that can't be set in stone when he already had you, which should have been enough. dabi realizes that the flames of his own passionate desire for freedom have burned you in the process, and it hurts more than he can put into words. you were always better with words, he reminisces, tracing the coffee stained parchment sitting in his pocket.

dabi has long since stopped reading the letters you sent, but he still carries them with him wherever he goes. they anchor him to both earth and sky; the reality that he's lost you, threatening to swallow him from under his feet; and the hope that he'll find you again, one day, after all this is over. "and just what do you think you're doing?"

you can see his reflection in the stove's glass sheen, his mouth drawn up into a devious smirk as he leans on the bedroom doorframe, clad in nothing but his briefs from the previous night. the purplish burns scaling his collarbone and abdomen give him a roguish look that—if you possessed no self-restraint—would normally have you lunging at him like a starved beast. you manage to smirk back at him, subtly shaking your hips while opening the stove door to pull out the doughy mound of bread inside. to your delight, you hear him grumble something not-so family-friendly before he snakes his arms around your waist, pulling you flush against his chest. you had never once thought that the feeling of staples against your skin would feel so good, but now you can hardly imagine being without it, and you immediately melt into dabi's touch.

he breathes softly in your ear, chuckling when you flinch in response, goosebumps stippling your flesh. by the way your cheeks puff out in embarrassment, he should take that as a sign to stop, but fuck, your pouting is just too cute for him to resist, especially when your worship-able body is basking in the afterglow of dusk. you keen when dabi starts peppering your shoulder blades with kisses, but nearly dropping the pan causes your senses to return, and you whisper a plea. luckily, he appears to be in a merciful mood, because he relents his onslaught of affection to rest his chin in the crook of your neck.

when he finally notices what you're making, he can't help but squeeze you tighter.

"is that a cake?"

you turn to give him a peck on the nose, which is rewarded with a halfhearted snap of his teeth just millimeters from your mouth.

"that'd be right. though, i'm astonished you know which way is up after last night." your sing-song tone of voice spurs him to squeeze your thigh, and you would have shooed him away if not for how much you liked it. dabi murmurs something unintelligible, the vibrations shooting straight down your spine, and proceeds to remove himself from you in order to better observe the baked delicacy.

"mm. what's it for?" he asks, discretely swiping a bit of the pink colored icing from the bowl to his right. sweet, but not sickeningly so.

you are none the wiser when dipping a spatula into the contents and smoothing it over the cake, a soft smile playing at your lips.

"you never told me when your birthday is, so i'm taking a wild guess. figured i'd whip this up as a surprise, but you woke up earlier than i suspected." dabi swears that his heart is about to burst from behind his ribcage, and all because you're too goddamn perfect. you may as well be a priceless work of art in museum that he's been prohibited from touching. however, the fading marks on your skin signify that he's done more than just touch, and he takes pride in the fact you can't seem to move further than two steps in any direction without faltering.

"i know angel food cake is your favorite—" dabi silences you with a kiss; bruising and passionate; and takes the spatula from your hand, blindly setting it aside on the counter. your protests are short-winded as he lifts you from your behind before promptly turning the oven off and spinning on his heel. he's memorized these halls well enough to not bump into anything during his trek back to the bedroom. you pull away, albeit with a hint of reluctance, just to glare at him.

"what about the—" dabi kisses you again, and while you don't seem too happy about being interrupted twice in a row, the shared heat between your bodies distracts you from being upset.

"you're off by about two months, doll. besides, i think i'd much rather have you as a late birthday treat."

dabi clenches his jaw at the memory, his knuckles whitening with how tenaciously he grips the tattered fabric of his jeans. the league's new base is just as rundown and close to crumbling as he feels, but his despair is masked by the rage that overpowers it. why couldn't you have been a normal couple? why couldn't dabi have grown up with a father who loved him; with a quirk that didn't gradually destroy him and without the resulting scars that made him a hideous monster in the eyes of all who saw him? why couldn't he be as beautiful on the inside as you said he was on the outside? why couldn't he just be happy, after all this time?

why? why? why?

dabi finds his answer hidden in the ashen battleground strewn with rubble and remnants of burnt remains. he finds it in the fear of his victims' expressions before the snare of death claims them in a flourish of blue inferno. it's written there in bold, ichor dripping from his fingers as they smear the message with red.

the privilege of living a normal life is, and always will be, beyond his reach. murder does not warrant mercy, and the only person willing to give it to him is miles away, still desperate for him to come back.

as fate would have it, you and dabi lived worlds apart, but you still look at the same sunset; the same array of stars forming constellations that told stories of your life shared together. they replay in his head like a record stuck on repeat, and only when the song ends does he find himself back in the clutches of his childhood trauma, rather than your embrace.

"dabi? dabi!" his trademark scowl automatically takes place when a finger prods and pulls at his cheek, the familiar voice of twice shaking him from his deep contemplation. jin has been so unfortunate as to suffer minor scorches from the ravenette's flames, on account of him being too bothersome at the wrong moments, and so he instantly backs away at the first indication of danger brewing in the air around him. with how on edge he's felt lately, he really should have gone on a walk to relieve some stress, but the looming knowledge that he can't go to the lighthouse would only ruin the trip.

dabi is fully prepared to smack jin's hand away until he sees what he's holding. he'd recognize that handwriting anywhere, and even without it, the scent of saltwater and freshly baked bread clings to the paper, altering him of yet another one of your efforts to communicate with him. dabi feigns indifference towards the object; quite the contrary to his thinning patience as twice waves it above his head excitedly.

"you've got mail! who's is from? probably a useless nobody! or maybe a secret admirer? but who would admire you?"

to his dismay, the commotion has grabbed toga's attention, and she veers over to their location with a giddy grin on her face. she all but drapes herself over dabi as he snatches the letter from jin, and it doesn't help his struggle when she clings to him like a koala. after a bout of kicking and shoving, he manages to break free of her grasp, grimacing at her lengthy, high-pitched whines of disapproval.

"and can you believe hawks was the one to deliver it? i didn't take him for a carrier bird. . ."

dabi doesn't hear the rest, nor does he intent to, because he's already making his way to the nearest exit with haggard breaths. whoever calls out for him and whatever they say are the last of his concerns right now, and they're abruptly cut off when he slams the door behind him. the summer heat wills beads of sweat to paint his forehead, but he soon finds comfort under the shade of a tree, cicadas buzzing noisily overhead. he would sooner keel over and die than thank the birdbrain hero for catering to him—and by extension, you—but now that the note is there, begging to be read, he can't help but feel some sort of gratitude.

"i need you to do something for me."

the bristles of hawks' feather hover over dabi's pulse in a threatening manner, but he feels no more in peril than he would at the cruelty of a baby chick. he knows the number two hero won't harm him, at least not without regretting it later, and this is the perfect time to use that to his advantage. hawks narrows his eyes at him, nose wrinkling in accord.

"why would i do anything for you after that stunt you pulled?" he snarls, and dabi almost has to laugh at the drastic switch in personality. the way he presents himself to the public is a true contrast compared to the persona only he and the league have had the pleasure of seeing.

"because if you don't, everyone will know you've been fraternizing with the enemy, and we wouldn't want number two falling off his high pedestal, now would we?"

this time, dabi audibly laughs when hawks' guise wavers. the other grits his teeth, slowly withdrawing the feather and allowing it to fall limp at his side. he revels in his victory, short though it be, and reaches into his pocket to procure a letter marked with your name and address. putting your location at the disposal of a hero isn't something he's proud of doing, but it's all he has left, and he doesn't have the resolve to tell you directly.

coward, his conscious mocks as he holds it out for hawks to take. the winged man stares at it with befuddlement, his movements stalling here and there when he seizes the paper between his thumb and pointer finger. dabi tuts lightly but menacingly, yanking hawks towards him by the wrist and igniting his quirk to leave a faint mark there.

"you're gonna deliver this for me, no questions asked. don't you dare open it."

despite the clear uncertainty, hawks took heed of the ominous demand and carried it out later that night. he had not expected a young man with tear-stained cheeks to greet him at the door, much less the endless babble of 'thank you's as you took the letter with shaking hands.

dabi hadn't wished for you to send one back, but the ongoing stream of them was considered fair, after he'd left without much of a trace. still, he had promised himself that he would never read them, for fear of it opening the wound inflicted by having to say goodbye.

dabi can't understand the sudden change of mind for the life of him, and yet, he finds that he doesn't care whether it opposes every rule he set to keep you safe—to keep himself safe. he tears open the envelope and slumps against the tree trunk, bark and leather grating together as he hesitantly unfolds the parchment, briefly shutting his eyes as a last act of resistance to the helpless cry from within; longing for the familiarity of your poetic words. instead of the delicate precision that was to be anticipated, dabi stared down at your messy scrawl, a carnal fear rising from within and causing his throat to clamp up. the memories begin to flash at a faster rate, like an old-timey picture film. dabi has just finished putting the kettle on to boil when hears the floorboards creak, followed by the sound of your slippers shuffling across the floor. he snickers, remembering that the only pair you have is the one he bought you; a well worn match that looks oddly like cloud bunnies. you've made sure to exemplify how much you love the gift by wearing them around the house on rainy or lazy days, all paired with a wistful smile. this morning is no different as you worm your way under dabi's hold and press your face into his chest, a satisfied groan escaping you when he cards his fingers through your hair and scratches the scalp.

the robe you wear is half-hanging from your shoulders, which makes for an enticing view from where dabi stands, but he simply kisses the crown of your head and continues waiting for the pot to simmer.

"did you hear that noise?" you slur, just barely discernable over the kettle's shrieking. dabi quirks a brow in question as you rub the leftover grogginess from your eyes, tiredly nodding at the back window.

"little past midnight, i think. coulda sworn i heard somethin' rifling around in the trash." dabi squints at this new information while eyeing your appearance. the dark circles and intermittent yawning indicate a lack of sleep, and if he weren't there to keep you steady, you might collapse onto the floor as a snoring heap. if it really disturbed him, he should have woken me up, he thinks, pulling you closer with an ever-deepening frown. you snuggle up to him as if it's second nature, sleepily giggling away when his digits stray too close to your side.

"s'probably raccoons, but if you're worried, i can stay longer just to make sure." you look up at him with nothing short of pure, unbridled adoration, cupping his face and squishing it gently, to your own entertainment. after a moment of consideration, you shake your head.

"nah, you're probably right."

the feeling hits dabi like a tidal wave, dragging him below the raging surface; far below where the light of day cannot touch. it suffocates him and brings rise to the sickening taste of bile on his tongue, but he doesn't have time to spare in throwing it all up, so he swallows it. withered patches of grass crunch under his feet as he peels himself from the tree and breaks into a dash, sparing your letter the flames fueled by his anguish as to let it drift in the breeze, the single sentence written on it already engraved in his mind.

it wasn't raccoons.

dabi doesn't care what shigaraki will have to say about this when he gets back. the only thing he cares about is that you'll still be alive to say anything to him when he reaches you, and that whoever has invaded your home is willing to die for what they've done, or what they're currently doing, and fuck—he isn't even sure if this is you calling for help or not, but he can't risk being right.

the distance between the base and the lighthouse feels lightyears apart, yet simultaneously at arms length when dabi is running at speeds he hasn't ever been able to achieve before. if he stumbles at any point during his sprint, or if he happens to bump into an unsuspecting civilian on the street, he doesn't notice. the resonant thumping of his own heartbeat is all that he can hear as he thanks the gods for the flow of traffic being so spaced out, otherwise it would be near impossible for him to reach you in time.

in time for what? he has to ask. dabi doesn't even want to think about the repercussions, but the scenarios arrive in rivulets despite the mental trapeze he goes through to push them down, and they only continue to grow into oceans; darker, colder and harboring thoughts too gruesome for even someone of his caliber to handle. he won't realize until much later that he'd forgotten to put on his disguise, but the way people ogle at him with fear and disgust does not suppress the need to protect you.

even now, he can sense the pressure building behind his eyes, though it's more painful that it used to be. dabi hasn't cried in months, and it shows by how unabating the rivers of blood trickle from his skin grafts, despite his feverish attempts to stop them. look at yourself, holding together by a thread and weeping in public like a child whose lost his mother in the crowd. it wouldn't have come to this if he had stayed.

something shifts in the scenery; a distinct line drawn between the city and its neighboring countryside; but it makes no difference to the impending peril that looms ahead. the closer he gets, the sooner he'll find you waiting for him, dead or alive. dabi staggers, his breath hitching at the thought, as well as the harsh sting of pain that erupts when his knee collides with the gravel below. he pushes himself forward in little time, a strangled yell ripping his throat raw as his vision settles on the top of the lighthouse, peeking over the hillside. you have to be there—you just have to. he isn't done with you yet, and you're sure as hell not done with him.

the earth is damp beneath his feet, and it soaks through the canvas of his shoes whilst he darts past the boulevard and onto your property, crying out to you. surely, you must hear him. surely—

dabi practically hurls himself at the front door, his blood running cold when it opens for him effortlessly and swings ajar to reveal the living room, upturned and scattered with broken bits and pieces of furniture. there's no sign of you or whoever did this. the oakwood flooring groans under his weight as he barrels down the hall, peering into every room, beneath your bed and any other place where you could be hiding. nothing. his search ends in vain at the front doorstep, where he stands hunched over and dry heaving. no, no, no. you can't be gone.

"y/n!" he shouts. his only response is the crashing of waves against the shore and the incessant cawing of seagulls. for a moment, dabi forgets how to breathe, and then the ability returns to him; his legs aching horribly as he rushes to the beach. the arrangement of rocks is sporadic at first, but they gradually form large clumps the further he carries on, urging him to squeeze between the narrower openings. it comes with some difficulty, but at last he is able to hobble onto the sandy coast and rest his sights upon the vast sea. he can recall when seeing its murky blue sea would have put him at ease, but now it only causes his senses to be clouded with distress.

"y/n!" the once calm ripples rise into rolling billows that drench the shoreline in frothy heaps of algae, wreckage and blood. it curls and disbands within the ocean to pollute its cerulean hues with ones of scarlet red, and just like that, dabi's heart sinks like the titanic. he'll never forget the sight of you, face-down in the water; your favorite shirt slashed to shreds, clinging to your body as nothing more than a tattered mess. dabi wades into the water until it reaches his ankles, completely numb to its freezing temperature as he sinks down to hoist you up. he rests you on his thighs and presses his lips onto yours with urgency, shortly pulling back so that he can thrust his palms upon your chest and push. he doesn't care to remember how many times he repeats this, but when he finally sits back on his haunches to release a stifled curse, the feeling of dread has only just begun to take control.

you've never looked so pale.

a guttural sob wrenches itself past his grinding teeth as more tears arise, dappling your cheeks like raindrops. it wracks his body and sends forth a surge of agony to course through his veins. dabi cups your face with a shaking hand, the other secured around your waist while he kisses you, his erratic pleas falling upon deaf ears.

"come back. . .come back." his bawling ceases to end, no matter the abrasive pain blossoming in his gullet.

"c'mon, doll. where's that sweet voice of yours?" his thumb strokes your bottom lip as though beckoning you to speak. when nothing follows, he makes a pathetic sniveling sound mixed with something broken; a blubber or whine, he does not know. the burden of your lifeless form causes the reality to set in; a dagger piercing his insides and twisting as to drag the most blood-curdling screams from him.

dabi loved you, and he wishes he had the strength to say it when you were still there. it was only within the presence of his own demons that he was able to utter his affections; curled into himself and waiting for a reply that would never come, carried on the wind that bit his skin. he loved you because you held him like a child when his father hadn't even the heart to acknowledge him as his own. you spoke his name—his real name—as though the blood on his hands was not there; like you had washed it away yourself through acts of tenderness that he did not deserve.

and now you're gone.

you're gone, and—

dabi's entire body jolts with a start, a familiar heat dancing across the grafts of his marred skin. a faint blue glow radiates from his fists, which are tightly fastened the weighted blanket that lays crumpled atop his legs. he lets go with a shuttering gasp, observing the black smudges that reside where his flames once were, then blinking owlishly at his surroundings. the room is shrouded in darkness, all save for the bedside table to the left of him that is dimly lit by a flickering oil lamp. that, and the spaces illuminated by the moon's brilliance, showering the floor with multicolored spots as it glistens through the stained glass window. something slots into place, but all it does is send dabi's mind into overdrive.

where is he? where are you? are you really dead? everything hurts.

his nails drag down the length of his arms, seeking some sort of comfort in the pain that blooms there. it doesn't last long, however, when the bed suddenly dips, and a soothing warmth is placed on the small of his back.

"touya?" you croak, your words lingering with the remnants of sleep. dabi—no—touya, swears that he could cry again, right then and there. his eyes flit over your torso, where several scars in varying sizes have desecrated the skin. as he idly traces the pink lines, one final memory surfaces from the depths of his subconscious. him, desperately pounding your sternum; the last threads of denial snapping in tune; and you, coughing and spewing both curses and whatever seawater that had clogged up your lungs. touya held you in that same position for hours, listening as your ragged wheezing turned into hiccupping sobs. hauling you inside had been no easy feat, and having to hear your muffled groans while he stitched you up by the crackling hearth was no better, but the evening after had been pleasant.

you could not recollect the face of the intruder, and with such little information to go off of, touya was left to wallow in self-loathing for love he had almost lost. no amount of therapy could prevent the following nightmares and panic attacks, but in time, the rekindling of your relationship was proved successful, and dabi was prepared to repay you for the moments where you consoled him.

it wasn't just a dream. it had all happened, and yet here you were, alive and well.

a pensive look crosses your features when you note how quiet touya is, and you take it as a sign to break the tension with a tried-and-true method from the past. he doesn't resist as you coo softly, pulling him under the covers and wrapping yourself around him, a garbled tune fleeing from past your lips before you press them to his shoulder. you trail the faintest of butterfly kisses along his neck, his jaw, his cheeks and so on. the anxiety coiled in touya's chest starts to untangle, leaving him as a trembling bundle of nerves in your arms as you shush him, your nimble fingers carting through his hair.

if he weren't so tired, he would have laughed at how the tables have turned; with you cradling him in the way he's so used to doing. still, not even he can deny that it feels nice to be held like this.

"s'alright sweetheart. i'm here. . ." you whisper, and the effect is instantaneous. touya stills as he inhales the scent of buttercream and fresh pine that wafts into the bedroom, his eyelids fluttering shut. all he can hope for is that your presence will drive away any nightmares that foreshadow his well-needed rest, and that when he wakes up in the morning, you'll still be at his side.

dabi made a mistake, and thousands more will come to pass, because underneath the grit and grime that makes up his callous exterior, there is a human being; struggling to survive and struggling to please, just as much as the next. but he'll never leave you again. he had promised you as such with the band of gold now encircling your ring finger, and as long as he lives, he'll never break it.

#⛓.dabi #dabi x male reader #dabi x reader #anime x male reader #mha x male reader #touya todoroki x male reader #my hero x reader #my hero x y/n #boku no hero x reader #x male reader #bnha x you #dabi fluff #dabi angst #dabi imagine

[that-wildwolf]

I was tagged by @crescentbunny and I'm not tagging anyone in particular because I never really have a good grip on who's already done a tag game and who hasn't...

Anyway! Here goes :)

How many works do you have on AO3?

I write lots of one-shots, so this should be around thirty... Yep, twenty-seven.

What’s your total AO3 word count?

Where do you check that? You can check that???

*spends approximately 10 minutes going through AO3 settings they didn't know existed*

Cool! A lot of features I didn't know about. Anyway, um. Yes. My total word count is, for the moment, 471,674 words.

Wow. I. Um. Almost 500K words. But—and this is extremely important—I feel like this graph contains some vital information:

How many fandoms have you written for and what are they?

Wow. Okay. I'll do this in chronological order because I never really counted.

Percy Jackson and the Olympians, Inheritance, Assassin's Creed, The Wolf Among Us, The Walking Dead, Doctor Who, Star Wars, Attack on Titan, Fallout, Sarah Jane Adventures, Elder Scrolls, Mass Effect, Steven Universe. I don't think I missed anything...?

That adds up to 13.

Do you respond to comments, why or why not?

Of course I do! I thrive on feedback! Not implying that my entire self-esteem hinges on the approval of strangers on the internet, but comments are the best fucking thing ever! Instant serotonin for a whole day! Of course I'll reply! I love getting into little conversations with my readers, too!

What’s the fic you’ve written with the angstiest ending?

Wow. I'm usually more of a happy ending kind of person, but A New Quest (which I wrote at the super proud age of 11) did end with half of the main characters dead and a memorial service for them as the last scene, so... You know. If you consider that angsty, then sure.

Fun fact: Crossing A Line was actually originally supposed to end with Shepard dying! The last chapter (which to me still feels a bit out of place) was rewritten completely. I'm glad I changed it, though. I'm having a lot of fun with the sequel!

What’s the fic you’ve written with the happiest ending?

A month ago I'd have said Waiting Between Worlds without second thoughts—does it count as a happy ending when the whole fic is just a happy ending?—but it's just been going downhill the last three or four chapters. Pretty much every one of my one-shots in the When I Need You series. Also, Crossing A Line, I guess, now that it has a happy ending.

Do you write smut? If so, what kind?

I... really don't. I'm wildly ace, all my sex knowledge comes from smut and porn and I'm pretty sure that if I were to actually write the adult stuff, I'd either go way overboard and make it too obscene to read or end up with something completely dry and clinical and unreadable too.

When there's sex scenes in my fic, I usually leave them implied. I say the characters had sex, but I never explicitly write the actual sex. I don't think I'd be good at it. (Actually, I've tried plenty of times and I know I'm not. It's the dirtiest, kinkiest filth you'd ever see and I'd really recommend against reading it.)

I do like writing the pre-chorus to sex, as it were, though. The sensual foreplay to the sexual foreplay. The soft or heated moments leading up to the act. I've even gotten comments about my lime being "extremely hot despite not being smut" and I'm more than happy with that description.

Do you write crossovers? If so, what is the strangest one you’ve written?

I used to write crossovers. Now I only sometimes write AUs based on a different fandom, like a Shakarian Kimi no Na wa!AU.

The strangest crossover I've ever written? Don't know if any of them were strange. I had The Wolf Among Us/The Walking Dead crossovers and Doctor Who/Sarah Jane Adventures crossovers, but both of those pretty much exist in the same universe already, so... No. No weird crossovers.

Have you ever had a fic stolen?

God, I hope not. At least none that I know of.

Have you ever received hate on a fic?

Yes. Plenty. A lot. I'd wager around 4 out of 5 comments on my Shepard Twins fanfic are negative. I haven't updated the fic in a while, but that doesn't mean I'm not writing anymore. I have around 50K words' worth of WIP of it. So no, the hate comments don't bother me. (A lie: they bother me a lot. They even make me cry, sometimes. But they're not gonna be the reason I stop writing a story I enjoy.)

Have you ever co-written a fic before?

My very first fanfiction writing experience, actually. In retrospect, I think that worked out great, because that kind of cooperation made it easier to carry the whole thing through, get it to the end, and was a very positive experience - which is probably why I've continued to write fanfic.

What’s your all-time favorite ship?

Ahhh. Royai or Shakarian? Royai or Shakarian? Stupid, since they're almost the same relationship dynamic, but they're both amazingly written. I'm edging a bit more towards Shakarian, because interspecies stuff is always a bonus. Still, it's a close competition.

Have you ever had a fic translated?

I wish! I've translated other people's fics, but I've yet to have someone do that for me.

What’s a WIP that you want to finish but don’t think you ever will?

I plan to hope to finish all my WIPs.

What are your writing strengths?

Dialogue. This is going to come off as boastful, but I think I'm pretty good at replicating individual characters' speech patterns.

What are your writing weaknesses?

According to my beta, I use elispses too liberally. According to me, I have trouble with transition scenes. I never write in order, so I always end up with disconnected scenes I need to join into a chapter. And the join parts don't even come easy to me.

What are your thoughts on writing dialogue in other languages in a fic?

Not a fan. (When I write fanfics in Polish, I sometimes use English, but that's not the same because everyone in Poland knows English anyway.) If it's a made-up language in the fandom, I like to include some words every now and then in dialogue - especially when it doesn't translate exactly. I love spotlighting cultural differences. I actually learned a load of Jel words for my Murkmire fanfics.

What was the first fandom you wrote for?

Percy Jackson and the Olympians. Good times. Damn, that was a long time ago. *suddenly gets the overwhelming realization that they've been writing fanfic for the bigger part of their life* ...Wow.

What’s your favorite fic you’ve written?

Big Spoon/Little Spoon, a short Shakarian one-shot exploring the psychology of the Spacer background a bit. I also used lighting in a really cool way in this one! I'm really proud of it. Even when I call it "the Spooning As A Metaphor For Nationality Issues fanfic", I mean it in an affectionate way.

As far as non-one-shots go, I'm going with Crossing A Line. It's got it all: Enemies to Lovers, language barrier, interspecies awkwardness... Plus, writing from Garrus's POV is always a treat. I get to refer to humans as "aliens". What more could you want?

#tag game #writing #fanfic #fanfic writing #meet the blogger #aka #wild rambles #thanks for tagging me in this bunny it was a lot of fun! #my life #long post

[minotaurmutual]

2, 3, 14 :)

2 - did you read anything? if so, what?

am I just supposed to list every book I read this year? I mean. alright ahfnfm

• the house in the cerulean sea by tj klune

• good ones by neil straightman (in 2021, can you believe. listen, no one's suprised, this book is amazing, but also fuck off neil)

• dirk gently's holistic detective agency by douglas adams (I loved this, especially because it was a completely different story from the show, so it felt like a whole new experience)

• the word for world is forest by ursula k. le guin (not as good as the left hand of darkness imo, but still very good. planning on reading the dispossessed next)

• piranesi by susanna clarke (perfection. 11/10)

• lanny by max porter also basically perfection. 10/10)

• ghost wall by sarah moss (it was a good book but I feel like I had the wrong expectations for it based on the synopsis etc. I kept waiting and waiting for the story to start and then it was over lmao)

• oedipus the king by sophocles (surprisingly funny)

• giovanni's room by james baldwin (so many underlined passages. so many.)

• the fifth season by n.k. jemisin (I had such a good time with this, I really want to continue with this series but like I said, it's always kinda hard for me)

• silver in the wood by emily tesh (I genuinely think everyone on this website would adore this book. it's only 100 pages. just read it!)

• drowned country by emily tesh (unfortunately an unnecessary sequel. I would not recommend reading it, just leave the story where it's at at the end of silver in the wood)

• this is how you lose the time war by amal el-mohtar and max gladstone (this reprogrammed by brain)

• die svenborger gedichte by bertolt brecht

• in watermelon sugar by richard brautigan (best trip I ever had)

• you will get through this night by daniel howell

• 17776: what football will look like in the future by jon bois (yes I'm counting this)

• over the top by jvn (I love them even more now)

• all boys aren't blue by george m. johnson (guys this was so surprisingly bad like. genuinely terrible. don't read this)

• entangled life my merlin sheldrake (this was so amazing, completely on the other end if the spectrum, everyone should read this)

• less by andrew sean greer (a little boring but overall very charming)

• the hawkline monster, a gothic western by richard brautigan (disappointing)

• picnic at hanging rock by joan lindsay (this took me YEARS to get through. YEARS. I don't know why, I was so fascinated by the story and it's such a short book but my god did I give up on ever finishing it a lot of times)

• his dark materials by philip pullman (I can't believe I actually finished a series, I usually never manage to which is why I mostly read standalone books. but I loved this, even though the last book dragged a bit and Alos took me forever to finish, 1 and 2 were much better imo, especially 1)

• a study in scarlet by acd

• the sign of four by acd

• the adventures of sherlock holmes by acd

• the castle of otranto by horace walpole (one of the few books I had to read for class that I actually finished. even though it was one of the most boring ones lmao)

• the memories of sherlock holmes by acd

3 - what were your top 5 books of the year?

• piranesi by susanna clarke

• lanny by max porter

• in watermelon sugar by richard brautigan

• the word for world is forest by ursula k. le guin

• giovanni's room by james baldwin

honourable mention for 17776 which isn't a book but was def one of the best things I've read this year

14 - what books do you want to finish before the year is over?

I really really want to finish the goldfinch, I've been reading it for months now ahdnfn

I'd also like to finish white noise by don delillo, I was supposed to read it for class but I didn't finish it (like most of the books I have to read for uni, unfortunately)

#thank u!! <3

[renegadeontherunn]

This was supposed to be a comment on your space story about Sasha and eris but tumblr’s being weird so it’s an ask.

This is beautiful op. I finished this story with tears in my eyes, I love everything about it. The twist, the dawning horror beforehand, the descriptions and metaphors, this entire story is absolutely brilliant. The plot is quite simple (which, as someone who’s written a lot of short stories, I would call a point in its favour), and in a way the characters are too, neither have time for much of a personality so to say, the most unique character is the villain, but they’re all so interesting and you do a really good job of making us care about them, and giving us an interesting story through Sasha’s eyes in the short time you have.

‘And either way, it didn’t matter much. It’s NASA. They know more than she ever will.’ Oh that line is brilliant on a second reading. My absolute favourite line, though, would have to be your rather strange ending line. That in conjunction with the ship’s name, Reverie.

I can’t quite put into words what this story does to me. It’s beautiful and strange and a little bit confusing. It has a meaning that I’ll probably figure out in a few hours and come back to gush about. There’s horror on it but it’s also something about people, human or otherwise. I’m still not done thinking about this story. It’s one of those ones that takes a while to really understand. My favourite kind. Thanks for the experience and the art.

oh,,,,,my god. thank you so so much, first of all. this is one of the nicest things anyone's ever said to me, thank you so much.

I can't even tell you how much it means to me that you felt so much from my writing (my writing???? ahhhh!!!!!!) I haven't tried my hand at too much original work other than like creative writing assignments for school, and so to get such a reaction!!!! ahhh!!!! I've reread this comment at least 12 times and teared up literally every time. and thank you for commenting on the last line!! that was one of the last parts I wrote and I always labor a bit over my ending lines because I want them to pack some punch so I'm really really happy that it did!!

I was kind of basing some of this story off of this song I saw on tiktok a while ago and in one part she sings "if I had my choice again / I'd always choose human" and like. idk I haven't stopped thinking about that line for months and I really wanted this to be something about humanity a little bit so I'm so happy that that came across.

but as much brief thought as I may have put into it, you read deeper and extrapolated something really beautiful from it so thank you so much for that I really really love your view of it and going back and rereading it is really nice now because I can see what you mean and like. idk that just makes me feel so happy and gives me a little pride in my writing which is just!!!! thank you so much!!

and I'm just rambling now but I'm seriously so overwhelmed with how much this comment means to me!!!!! you are exactly what I mean when I think that humans are good at heart and wonderful beings and like. you are so wonderful thank you so so so much I'm going to keep this comment and just. read it and cry over it forever thank you

#fiona speaks #i...i don't even know what else to say just. thank you so so so much #this means a lot to me especially since this is an original work and so like. like comments on my fics are AMAZING and WONDERFUL #and i love them with all my heart #but like. everything from this story came from my brain and so to get such high praise like this is so insane and i just #thank you #so so so so much #i really mean that and i'm really taking this comment to heart and i just!!!! ahhhhhhh this made me so incredibly happy thank you #honestly i wrote this thing in three days and i wasn't expecting that much to come of it #but it means a lot to me that you and so many people have enjoyed it and been so kind about it #to everyone who's read it: thank you so much i just!!!! gahhhhh my heart is so full right now #thank you :') #answered #notaceofstars #to come back to

[palimpsessed]

So @captain-aralias​ did one of these and invited other writers to do the same. And I wasn't really going to because it feels a bit late now and also I've done quite a few other year in review posts for 2020. But then I got to thinking that it would be really nice to have one of these for each year to look back on and compare, which convinced me. So, here we go!

If you’re a writer, I’d also encourage you to steal this. Tag me on your post so I can see your thoughts! 🥰

List of Complete Fics for 2020 1. At the Top of a Tower, With You- General, 900 words 2. Use Your Words- Teen, 16k 3. A Man of Letters, or Five Times Baz Retreats and the One Time He Doesn’t- Teen, 54k 4. To the Manor Borne- Teen, 43k

Total: 4 fics, 113k words

Every one of these fics was written for an event, which, realistically, is the only reason they got finished. I have so many ideas I'm working on all at once, and I came into fandom with a focus on making art, so to actually find the motivation to sit down and write/finish/post a fic was entirely deadline based. And it's a technique I'm sure I will also employ in 2021.

Best/Worst Title?

Well, I've mentioned a few times before that I usually have a title before I have much in the way of a fic concept. I don't really dislike any of the my titles, because they all did exactly what I needed them to do, which was help me focus on what I wanted to accomplish in the fic. Comparatively speaking, though, I can answer this.

Best: Use Your Words - succinct, idiomatic, a book quote/motif that also has the potential to be a spell, does what it says on the tin, is probably what all of us are constantly yelling at Baz and Simon to do throughout the books and the fic itself

(Honorable mention to A Man of Letters because that title forms a perfect heart shape when viewed on mobile on AO3. ❤️)

Worst: At the Top of a Tower, With You - this is also a quote and it fits the fic perfectly, but it is a bit of a mouthful and it has a comma in the middle of it, which, while I love commas, feels a bit off-putting in terms of a title - also, it's always kind of bothered me that it's a Baz WS quote used for a CO-era Lucy POV

Best/worst summary?

Again, I don't really dislike any of my summaries.

Best:

To the Manor Borne: The gang decides to spend Christmas together at Pitch Manor. Romance, hijinks, and holiday cheer ensue.

Anything that lets me use the word hijinks is always good! - it's short and sweet - it does a fair job of setting up the premise for the fic and giving highlights, without giving anything away

Worst: A Man of Letters

I'm not going to include this one because it's so long, I had to cut down the version I posted on tumblr to fit in the AO3 field, which is really why I rank it below my others - it effectively sets up the world of Simon and Baz in Regency England prior to where the story starts, but it is prohibitively long - and it's set up, not summary, so it also loses points for not doing what it purports to do - I could have said exactly what this fic was in one sentence: "Simon and Baz meet at several Regency-appropriate venues over the course of a London season and reflect on their acquaintance in letters", but instead I did the full book jacket version because it was more interesting to me.

Best/Worst First Line?

Oh, this is interesting. I can honestly say that I have no idea where this will go. Going to pull up my docs and find out! Okay, since I only have four fics to consider, and I'm feeling split, I'm going to do two for each. I feel good about my words, but I will say that half of my first lines actually provide information, and the other half are incomplete thoughts. Those were stylistic decisions I made, but when taken alone, it does somewhat limit the effectivness of a sentence when it can't stand without the rest of the paragraph. Perhaps that decision will lure readers in for more?

Best:

In the end, we wind up at Pitch Manor. (To the Manor Borne)

I know that you won't be surprised when I tell you that I do not like writing letters. (A Man of Letters)

Kind of interesting that these both contain key words from the titles 🤔

Worst:

I'm not sure how I'm supposed to do this. (Use Your Words)

I love how the title seems to be answering Baz's question when the two are put together like this 😂

Strange that it should end here, where it all started. (At the Top of a Tower, With You)

The title also seems to complete the first line in this one, too. I'm learning about my writing as this goes on, so that's cool!

Best/Worst Last Line?

Hmm. Okay, again, no idea. Also, a little leery of including last lines for anyone who hasn't read the fics they're from yet. (Tho I guess it's unlikely those people would be reading this😆) But let's see what we've got.

Use Your Words and A Man of Letters have very similar final lines, and both are somewhat spoilery.

Best: The ending of A Man of Letters felt risky to me, in the way that it is formatted and changes tone from the rest of the story. It was something that happened as I wrote it and I loved it. I had no idea if readers would like it, if they would feel like it worked as an ending, but I felt strongly enough about it to let the entire fic hinge on that and I think it really paid off. So, without giving you the actual last line, which is only one word, I'm going to say that one is my best ending.

Worst:

To the Manor Borne: "Carry on, Simon."

It's not bad, it's just not mine.

Looking back, did you write more fics than you thought you would this year, fewer than you thought, or about what you predicted?

I did not set out to write any fics in 2020. I was supposed to be taking a break from writing. I've been an aspiring novelist for half my life now, and have been going through major ups and downs with my writing. I decided I needed to re-evaluate and figure out if writing was something that was even going to be able to make me happy anymore. The answer is: YES! Just…not original fiction. At the moment. I'm happiest when I can write for the sake of writing and not have to DO something with that writing. Which is why discovering fan fiction was AMAZING!!!! 🥰🥰🥰

To actually answer the question, yes, I wrote more than I thought I would. I also wrote exactly as much as I thought I would, simply because these were all things I signed up for (with the exception of my Countdown fic, but I committed to it as if it were something that required a sign up).

I have a lot more ideas for 2021, but I don't know how many of them will come to fruition. I'm not putting pressure on myself to have to do anything beyond what I sign up for again, because it did work out so well for me starting off.

What pairing/genre/fandom did you write that you would never have predicted last year?

I mean, the pairing and the fandom were in no way a surprise. 😆 They're my only ones, so those were both a given. The genre is also not surprising.

What's your favorite story this year? Not the most popular, but the one that makes you the happiest?

A Man of Letters, without any hesitation. I adore it so much. It's the kind of fic I know I will unabashedly sit down to read over and over, even if I'm the one who wrote it. I had one reader to please and it was ME. By far, my most self-indulgent fic.

Okay, NOW your most popular story?

That depends on the metric.

To the Manor Borne leads in Comments (107), Kudos (153), and Hits (1992), and Use Your Words leads in Bookmarks (26).

But since To the Manor Borne is top in 3 out of 4 metrics, I'll say that one.

Story most upderappreciated by the universe?

I mean, the least popular by a wide margin is At the Top of a Tower, With You, but I don't know if I'd call it underappreciated. It's short, it's angsty, it's got a very unusual style, it's Lucy POV, it's the first fic I wrote and posted. I didn't really go into it with high performance expectations. I'm proud of it, I just didn't expect it to be popular. It would be nice if more people read it, but I'm not broken up over it.

Story that could have been better?

I'm not even going to touch this one. Everything can always be improved upon, but if I go down that route, nothing will ever be done. This is one of the things I have come to appreciate about traditional art versus digital. With traditional, there is only so much you can do before something is permanent and you have to live with it. It's an exercise in letting go and acceptance. Digital is flashier and more flexible, but I could (and have) spend months on a single piece and never feel satisfied, never stop tweaking. I think that's also the reason I started to hate my novels.

Sexiest story?

Based purely on overall vibes, I find the understated tension of the Regency the most appealing, so I'm going to say A Man of Letters. I didn't actually stray into sex territory in any of my fics (though Simon and Baz have had sex by the time To the Manor Borne starts, and refer to it, and probably do it "offscreen"), but A Man of Letters is the one that feels sexiest to me. Lots of thirsting!Baz and feral!Simon and sensual hand touching (how risqué!) - and YEARNING. That, to me, is the sexiest vibe of all. So. Much. Yearning.

Saddest story?

At the Top of a Tower, With You - for this one, I tagged "angst without plot" and I stand by that. It's Lucy losing her connection to Simon at the end of CO and trying to find a way to reconcile herself to leaving him alone again. I gave it as much of a hopeful bent as I could, with the refrain of Baz's spoken "love" to cling to, but it's very sad.

Most fun?

To the Manor Borne - All of my fics have their fair share of angst, but this one also has some good, silly, holiday fluff thrown in. Since I wrote it for the Countdown, each chapter was based on a different prompt, which led to this one going in all sorts of directions no single fic probably ever should. Plus, it has the most Shepard, and Shepard always makes things more fun.

Story with the single sweetest moment?

Oh my god. I don't know. No, never mind. I do. It's To the Manor Borne, but it's split between the two gift giving scenes, the Constellations and Secret Santa/Gift Giving prompts. These were private moments between Simon and Baz, sharing themselves with each other, being vulnerable, and communicating. It's the gifts they give each other, yes, but it's more so the reasons they chose those gifts, and how they show part of themselves and share their love for each other, through those gifts, that had me in tears writing those two scenes. I'm super proud of them.

Hardest story to write?

Use Your Words - it was written for an exchange and that made it really hard to write it knowing there was this pressure of making my gift-ee happy with the fic. I'm proud of it, and they really liked it, but the anxiety was too much for me.

Easiest/most fun story to write?

A Man of Letters - if there is a fic better suited to me as a writer, I haven't met it. I started writing after reading Pride and Prejudice in high school, so I started out writing Regency and I spent years and years and years of my life obsessed. When I transferred into college, an administrator I had never met before heard my name during orientation and said, "Oh, you're the Austen scholar." (It is a small, private college, and I was a transfer, so the pool of students was even smaller. But still. Many years later, I'm clearly not over it.) I also did my senior thesis on an epistolary novel (Frances Burney’s Evelina), and my English Lit emphasis was for that time period. So, I felt like I had been preparing for this fic my entire adult life. 😂

Did any stories shift your perceptions of the characters?

I don't think so. I tend to let my writing be dictated by the characters, so I'm always following their lead. Sometimes they'll do or say something that surprises me and takes me down a route I didn't necessarily foresee, but I don't think there was ever a point where one of them did something that made me rethink who they are as a character.

Most overdue story?

I will say A Man of Letters, since that one felt like a culmination of my seventeen-year-old self's wildest writing dreams. But I should probably say the Scooby Doo AU I still haven't managed to finish, because that one has been a WIP since I joined the fandom. Oops. (I'm hoping when I look over this in a year, I can feel smug that it's finally done.)

Did you take any writing risks this year? What did you learn from them?

Writing at all was a risk for me! And writing fan fic for the very first time! Writing an entire fic told only through letters. And then ending it in a completely different style from the rest of the fic. Doing a multi-chaptered fic for the Countdown, using a different prompt for each chapter, and publishing a chapter every single day for thirty days (with the exception of two days that had art). Signing up for fandom events in the first place!

What I learned from taking risks in my writing is the same thing I learned when I took risks in my art this year. I have a much better appreciation for what I've done when I push myself, I feel better about the end product, and I like it longer. I think it's really good for me to challenge myself creatively.

This year's theme and the story that demonstrates it most?

Oh boy. Um. Therapy! Both Use Your Words and To the Manor Borne had their big HEA moments built around sending Simon and Baz to therapy. I don't think that's likely to change for future fics, either. I feel like therapy as the theme for 2020 seems very fitting. (Also, I think I keep sending the boys to therapy because I'm trying to get myself there…)

What are your fic writing goals for next year?

Just to write what I want to write, have fun, not put any pressure on myself, and to take risks in my writing and my art because it will help me to grow.

#fan fic year in review #my fic #at the top of a tower with you #use your words #a man of letters #to the manor borne

[voidwaren]

Heyyyyy, I'm the person who wrote a short story for class based off WIS. I'm here to update you on that right now actually! So I had a collection of stories and characters around that time, nothing really connected them to each other until I decided to continue developing the tiny little world building I made for that particular short story. I'd like to note that the world building doc I created now encompasses an entire Space Westerns worth of worldbuilding, and that the original draft wip is 47 pages. I'm mostly doing this just to thank you, I've come to really love writing and I have you to thank for it. I'm genuinely considering writing an entire novel for the world and characters I created with the help of a fic that YOU made! I think I've found writing to be the career I truly want to pursue and I cannot express how much I appreciate you and your works. I went from having a huge jumble of loose characters and plots to an entirely new world spawned from a short story about time travel I was inspired to write from a fic for a fandom I'm not even in. Sorry this got wordy, I just really need to tell you how grateful I am.

I don’t get notifications for asks anymore and have to physically open up the browser version of Tumblr to see if I got any asks (or go through the motions of checking on mobile, which I rarely do because I’m lazy), so to say I was reeling when I checked and found this is. not enough of a statement. holy shit.

(then I was having trouble figuring out how exactly to reply in a way that conveys my gratitude that you sent me this at all, but words just don’t do it justice. I tried, sure, but it doesn’t properly convey my feelings. if I could give you a fraction of my soul I would, jsyk. I’d give you all of it but I’m pretty sure not all of it is there anymore.)

first off, holy crap dude. to find out what you want to do as a career alone is like, the dream. and I’m so fucking glad I was able to help with that. thank you for coming by and updating me, because my god do I thrive on things like this. I’m genuinely floored, like. I don’t know how to explain how cool that is to me or how much it means to me that you’ve supported me and in turn I’ve been able to help you in some way. I don’t get that from anyone else but people like you, and it’s honestly one of the only (if not THE only) things that keeps me writing at all. thank you so much.

if you ever do end up writing a book, please hmu. I would love to read it, or read anything of yours at all, honestly. (you don’t have to of course, I won’t hound you or anything, but just know I would LOVE to if you’d be willing to share.)

#I will slot this under 'crowning achievements in my life' thank you very much #riotroulette #asks

[builder051]

I'd love to see some more OC stuff from you! Let's do a holiday theme - one of your couples (your choice, I'm not a picky dude) goes out for a nice Christmas or New Year's Eve dinner or some shit, but maybe one of them is coming down with a stomach bug. They try to hide it and muscle through dinner but end up puking it all back up on the ride home?

I feel like I’ve been neglecting these guys a little.  Time to jump back into the lives of Mel and Todd.

This story probably makes it very clear that I don’t know how to party.  Or read, for that matter, because I kind of missed the word “dinner” in the prompt.  

_____

“You sure you’re feeling up to this, babe?” Todd asks.  He’s standing in front of the bathroom mirror brushing his hair, but his eyes are trained on Mel.  She’s sitting on the foot of the bed, pulling on knee socks in the most pathetic way possible.

“Yeah,” Mel replies.  She presses the short skirt of her dress over her lap, then heaves herself up to retrieve her boots.  “I don’t think 99 is even a fever.  I’m fine.”

“You just seem like you’re dragging a little,” Todd says.  He takes a hair elastic and uses it to tie his smooth ponytail.  “We don’t have to go.  We could have a cozy Christmas Eve at home if you want.”

“But you’re all dressed up,” Mel pouts, appearing against the bathroom door frame, holding her boots in one hand.  “I’m not gonna waste a vision like that.”  She swats playfully at the sleeve of Todd’s blazer.  It’s the one he wore to their wedding, now paired with khakis and a slightly-too-unbuttoned collarless oxford.

“I don’t know why,” Todd replies.  “It’s literally going to be beer at my boss’s house.  I bet he wears shorts.”

“Doesn’t matter.  You’re hot.  And you’re mine.”  She snuggles up to Todd’s shoulder, disrupting the trail of toothpaste he’s doling onto his toothbrush.

“Mm.”  Todd dips his head sideways so his ear graces the top of Mel’s head.  “You’re the hot one,” he says.  “You sure you’re only running 99?”

“I think so.  I was a couple hours ago.”

“You want me to check it again?” Todd asks around his toothbrush.

“Naw.”  Mel bends to step into her shoes.  “I wanna go to a Christmas party.”

“Ok.  If you say so.”  He spits into the sink and rinses out his mouth.

“Can I have a fresh-breath kiss too?”

Todd squints at his wife.  “Are you gonna give me germs?”

“I’ll try not to,” Mel promises with a giggle.

“Alright.  Come’ere,” Todd acquiesces.

Two hours later, they’re sitting side by side on a rich, off-white leather couch while Todd’s boss is explaining the niceties of each local brew lined up on the dining room table.  “Thanks, Amadeo,” Todd says, lifting his bottle.  “But we’re all set.”

“You have to try the ale,” the squat older man, who is in fact wearing shorts, insists.  “They brew it right down the street.  Nothing better, I swear.”

“Next round, alright?”  Todd placates.  He starts laughing as soon as Amadeo steps away to pressure someone else.

“You weren’t kidding.  If all you talk about is beer, no wonder you get along so well,” Mel chuckles.

“Yeah, beer and software,” Todd says, wrapping his arm around her shoulders.  “Sometimes I wonder how I got so lucky.”

“Mm.”  Mel rests her beer on her knee.  One arm is loosely draped over her abdomen.  She’s only had a few sips of her beverage, but Todd wonders if it’s wise for her to be drinking at all if she’s feeling sick.

“Doing ok, babe?” he checks in.

“Yeah, I’m good,” she immediately answers.

“You sure?  You don’t have to drink that if you’re not into it.”

“No, it’s really good,” Mel says, scraping her thumb over the tie-dye printed label on her bottle.  “It’s just…going to my head a little bit.”

She’s had maybe four ounces, Todd estimates.  Probably not enough alcohol to affect her, petite as she is.  All the same, Mel needs to put something on her stomach if she’s going to hang through the evening.

“Lemme get you something to eat,” Todd offers.  “A hangover is definitely not what I want for Christmas.”  Mel smiles and playfully elbows him in the ribs.

The party, like the company itself, is brilliant, but slightly half-baked.  A turntable and a collection of vintage vinyls cover one end of the table while the beer selection dominates the other.  For all the atmosphere, there’s little in the way of food.

A tray of locally sourced crab cakes sits between two six-packs, and a jar of mixed nuts that looks like it came from Costco completes the buffet.  Great.  He can either give Mel something she won’t like, or something she’s allergic to.

Todd goes with the lesser of the two evils and slides a couple crab cakes onto a plate.  He doubts his wife will be interested in eating fish when she’s already not feeling well, but it’s worth a shot.

When he gets back to the living room, he finds his friend Mark has taken a seat beside Mel.  They’re elbow-deep in conversation about the pros and cons of using Twitter to reach the customer base.

“I leave you alone for five minutes and you’re already talking shop?” he teases Mel.  Then he turns to Mark.  “Hey, it’s Christmas.  Stop acting like you’re working.”

“I’m always working,” Mark says with a smile.  “And your girl is smart with this shit.  We could totally use a mind like that on our team.”

“No, I’m really happy where I am,” Mel says quickly.  “I’d never leave Shell Gaming for another company…”

“Here, babe,” Todd cuts her off with the plate of crab cakes.  She gives him a less-than-impressed look, but isn’t about to complain in front of company.

“Cut it out, Mark,” Todd says, with a tone between serious and joking.  “Or she’ll start charging you a consulting fee.”

They all share a laugh, and the chatter turns casual.

When Mark wanders away, Mel lets her smile fall to a mildly disgusted expression.  She looks from the crab cakes to her husband.

“Yeah, I know,” Todd says.  “There’s just not a lot of choice.  I figured this is better than anaphylaxis…”

“I guess.”  She pokes at one with her fork.

“We don’t have to stay super long if you’re not having fun,” Todd offers.

“No, this is cool.  I’m alright,” Mel insists.  She takes a bite of food and wrinkles her nose, but chews and swallows all the same.  “Are there any Beatles albums in that collection?”

It turns out there are, and title-browsing soon turns to dancing, food and drink all but forgotten.  Todd grins at Mel as she clumsily twirls under his arm.  He tries to dip her, but Mel won’t stop giggling.

Hey Jude starts playing, and they evolve into a slow-dance position.  Mel leans into Todd, her chin resting against his collarbone an inch or so below his shoulder.  Her slender torso presses against his broader one, and Todd puts one hand on her hip and holds the other at the small of her back.  After a moment of swaying, Todd swears he can feel a rippling gurgle surge out from her abdomen.

“Is that your stomach?” he whispers to her.

“Mm,” Mel hums.  “I’m ok.”

“Babe, if you’re not feeling good…”

“No, this is so nice.  I love this.”

“We can go out again.  New Year’s is coming up,” Todd offers.  “Really.  How’re you feeling?”

Mel sighs into Todd’s jacket.  “A little nauseous, I guess,” she admits.

“Yeah, alright,” Todd says, patting her hip and bringing his hand up under her hair to feel her temperature.  “I’m taking you home.”

“But I’m ok,” Mel insists again.

“Naw, let’s go.”  Todd steers her toward to the edge of the room to pick up her handbag.  Mel’s face looks extra pale against the bright red of her dress.

“Amadeo.  Thanks, man.”  Todd shakes his boss’s hand and waves at Mark and a few others before sliding his arm back around Mel’s shoulders and guiding her out to the car.

“You good to drive?” she asks, always the concerned one.

“I had, like, a beer and a half,” Todd reports.  “’Course I’m good.”

“Yeah, good,” Mel murmurs.  She slides into the outdated Volvo’s passenger seat.  She doesn’t put her seat belt on right away.  Instead she pulls her arms close around her stomach.

“We’ll be home soon, ok?”  Todd snaps on his own safety belt and reverses down the long driveway.  As he turns the car and starts going forward, he sees his wife swallow thickly.

“Ok,” Mel breathes, tipping her head back against the seat.

The glow of a green light casts a sickly hue over her already ill-looking expression.  “You’ll be ok, babe.  Not too much further.”  Todd reaches over to pat her knee.

Mel catches his wrist with her cold, sweaty hand.  “I don’t feel good,” she whispers.

“Yeah.  Hold on just a little bit.”  Todd knows what’s coming.  He should’ve known better than to let her get to his point.  They shouldn’t’ve gone out with her spiking a fever, she shouldn’t’ve drank, she shouldn’t’ve eaten…

He takes his hand back from Mel’s clammy grip to turn the car onto the lonesome stretch of beachfront road that leads to their place. “Almost there.”

He can hear Mel breathing.  She sounds panicky, or maybe snotty.  They’re maybe a minute out from their driveway when she breathes, “Todd?”

“Hold on, babe, I’ll pull over.”

The car isn’t even in park when Mel can’t hold it in any more.  She hunches over her lap and heaves, spilling liquid vomit over the front of her dress.

“Ok, ok,” Todd says hurriedly, yanking the emergency brake and releasing his seatbelt.  He rockets around the front of the car and pulls Mel around so she’s angled over the sandy grass that edges the road.

She retches delicately, and everything in her stomach splashes down between her boots.  A few flecks hit Todd’s knees, but he doesn’t react.  He just leans to pat Mel’s back as she breaks into coughs.

“You’re ok, babe,” Todd soothes.

Mel lets out a quiet burp, and another mouthful of sick hits the ground.  “Ugh,” she groans, spitting out thick saliva.  It smells like acid and fish and alcohol.  She uses the edge of her sleeve to wipe her mouth.  “S-sorry,” Mel chokes.

“It’s fine, babe,” Todd reassures.  “You, uh, feel any better?”

“Not really,” Mel rasps.  She keeps her trembling hand near her mouth.  Barely a moment later, she’s heaving again.  This time it seems to be just bile.

“Breathe,” Todd reminds her.

“Yeah.”  Mel forces a few inhales and exhales.  “God, I’m a mess.”

“You’re fine,” Todd says.  He bends to kiss her forehead.  “And definitely hot.”

#ocs #my ocs #original fiction #original characters #mel and todd #mel rhinehart #todd rhinehart #sickfic #emeto #emetophilia #christmas

[undeservedfavor]

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The Bucketlist

Mini-Series of Short Stories

St. Valentines Day [EN]: Chapter 2

Gisela almost jumped and screamed at the sight.

"Who are you?! What are you doing in my room, here in my bed?! What did you do to me?! Why can't I remember anything?!" She held her head due to headache.

"Don't scream, they might think that I'm doing something to you." He said.

"To a loser you shouldn't give a damn about... Yes, you already did something!" She tried to sit up but she did not succeed with her attempt.

She winced because of the pain she felt down there, tingling on her sensitive part.

He held her close and rubbed her back.

Like he's trying to calm her as she breathes in and out.

"Shh... That's it. Breathe. Tsk. Don't move so harshly, does it still hurt?" He asked.

She almost cried nodding to him.

"Can you stop breathing on my neck?! God. What a mess. So much for the freedom that I asked for." She uttered.

"We all search for freedom. Why do you look so sad? Tss, sorry, don't mind my question. I don't wanna intrude. By the way, nice place you got here. I haven't found a place yet, so I think I wanna stay here, even just for two or three weeks. You wouldn't mind, right? Since misery loves company, oh my bad, it's misery meets misery. Why do I get the feeling that we've met before?" The guy said.

"I don't even know you, you don't know me and what I'm going through! If you're gonna stay here, we have to set the boundaries and the rules." She reiterated.

"Shoot." He said.

"One, since I just bought this house and I'm struggling to survive the rest of my days on earth due to financial instability, you have to pay me rent. Two, no opening up or asking about 'too' personal details. Three, no more sexual activities with the landlady, last night was enough..." She stated.

"I think I can do number one and two, but I doubt that we both can resist number three, for we're still cuddling until now." He said and she moved away from him and covered her nudeness with the white blanket.

The man laughed a bit, which she found weirdly sexy.

When Gisela did not feel any pain anymore, she stood and wore her robe.

The man's smirking as he lit up a cigarette from the pocket of his jacket while his eyes are feasting on her features and curves.

She was about to enter the bathroom to clean herself up from the dried 'juices' stuck on her skin but she heard the doorbell rang from downstairs.

She walked downstairs and opened the door, she saw the old lady, Olivia...

"We're leaving for almost a month. I'm taking Larry to the city hospital which is really far from here, as the old man will prepare for his heart operation. We're taking our grandson with us, which means I will be leaving this beach to you. We're not locking it up unless it's night-time but... Can you look after it for us until we get back?" Old Olivia asked.

Gisela nodded.

"Yes, I'll pray for his speedy recovery. In this world, prayers are our sword for battle." She said and the old woman gave her the keys.

She went upstairs and she broke the news to the man who got her first.

"Who was that?" He was curious.

"The lady who sold me this house. Her entire family's going to tne city for almost a month. Which means, it's just you and me in this isolated island and damn life." She said.

"Which is good right, if you're in charge, we can do more public se-... S-sessions of swimming." The guy changed what he was about to say when the woman glared at him.

"You don't wanna be stuck with me in a place for a long time. No one does. I'm boring and worthless as hell." She said.

"I don't know, I find you exciting as hell. With that bod? There's no way that anyone doesn't wanna be stuck with you, I'd even probably prefer to be stuck in a manhole with you than not at all." She just rolled her eyes at his comment.

Then, she continued talking about the rules she thought just right about now.

Adding some things to it.

"As I was saying... Number four, you'll sleep on the couch downstairs and I sleep on my bed, here in my room. Don't dare to barge in here. This is not porn. Last and final rule, we don't have to know who we are." She said.

"I love the porn part but I was a bit confused on the last rule." She rolled her eyes at the hot naked guy on her bed.

"No names. We're gonna go separate ways anyway. You can call me Piggy and I can call you-...?" She said.

"Dinosaur. Don't look at me like that, isn't it obvious why based from what you just saw?" She glared at him.

"Kidding. I collect dinosaur figures back in the city. I'm a fan of Godzilla and Jurassic Park." She just nodded.

"Let's make it more exciting, if we found out each others' names, we part ways without a word. That's how pro one-night-standers do it." He said.

She shook her head smiling a little to him and entered the bathroom to shower.

Dorian followed her and she was shocked when he kissed her and lifted her to the bathtub...

Dorian opened the tap to fill it with water, he then poured soap in it and joined Gisela in a bubble bath as they do what they wanna finish doing...

They started living together.

The no sex rule was always being disobeyed by the male and the female was just letting him, like she had no choice for she also loved the relaxed feeling after the unexplainable and tiring skinship.

There was a time that when Dorian turned on the radio...

He heard his song played...

~I remember we were living like Kings and Queens

In the little tiny castle made of hopes and dreams

It was destiny

It was meant to be

We were so complete

The perfect team...

I always think about her (Aye)

Try to not overthink about her (Yeah)

I always dream about her (Uh, Uh)

Try not to dream about her (Oou)

I'm feeling so lost without her I try to come home

And it's so hard being out on my own

It breaks my heart to leave you alone

And that's all I get from you but I give my all to you

And that's all I hear from you

All dressed up nowhere to go

So I'm Dancing (Dancing)

On My Own

I've been waiting way too long (I don't want you dancing alone)

Dancing (Uh-huh)

On My Own

Play one more song (Play one more song)

Song (I'll be home)

Song But you're not coming (Yeah)

Song Song Song But you're not coming home

I told you I'll be home

I told you I'll be back (Play one more song 'til you g-...~

The song almost come to an end but Dorian turned it off when Gisela came out of the bathroom, because if Gisela, recognized his voice and knew who he was, it will be the end for them...

"Why have you turned it off? I was listening to the song... It's good..." She said.

"You know, you should re-think your taste when it comes to music." Dorian commented.

Gisela just shook her head, smiling.

They are getting to know each other more day by day but they still have not talked about why they ended up on the island...

On day, preparing brunch on the beach side, Piggy was sitting on the hammock while writing something on her notebook as Dinosaur is grilling fish for their meal.

Piggy was shocked as she heard a familiar voice alarmed.

"Ahhh!!!" Dinosaur winced in pain as he grabbed the neck of the snake who bit him and threw it on a far away bush.

He may not be showing it, but he's panicking.

Piggy ripped her skirt to get a piece of cloth and she tied a tight knot on the Dinosaur's ankle.

Piggy ran to the house and quickly came back with an alchohol, a clean knife, a roll of bandage and a cotton on her hands.

"I thought Dinosaurs are tougher than Pigs and Snakes. Then, why are you screaming like a girl? This is gonna hurt a bit but..." Piggy pierced the swollen wound.

Blurry liquid came out of his leg.

"Ahhh!!! Sh*t! Can you be more gentler as I was with you in bed?! Ouch!" He said shouting.

"Even your leg is filled with lust. It's wet and cumming. We're hopeless. You'll die in five minutes. Like me, alone, miserable and lonely." He glared at her for the comment.

"Kidding. Let the goner go, will you?" The woman said.

Dinosaur's eyes almost fell from it's sockets when Piggy put her mouth over the wound and sipped it thoroughly.

He almost drool over the sight.

Everytime her mouth is filled by the poison, she spits it out on the side.

When it was done, she cleaned the wound and replaced the cloth with a bandage.

"Where have you learned that?" The man asked.

"I was a nurse. A shitty one." She answered.

"Was. Why did you quit?" He asked.

"Can you stop being so nosy? Let the personal details go." The woman said she sat back on the hammock and continued to write on her notebook.

"What's that? I'm starting to get jealous with that notebook." He said.

She walked toward Dinosaur to ask for his opinion.

"Tell me what you think for a woman who's busy isolating and distancing herself from society?" She showed her writings to him.

"Without even reading this, I can say we're explicitly productive." The woman just glared at him for what he said.

Then, he read the book seriously.

"Writing strory scripts eh? This is good and intense but... I think it will suffice for the readers. Try to write about us next time. Is this why you quit? For the so called "Absolute Dream'?!" He overreacted his expression on the last sentence with his arm streched out high pointing at the sky.

"You talk a lot. How about you go back to the house and I'll bring the fish to you. And I thought I saw a Spiderwisp plant near our house's front yard. I'll go get some to treat the snakebite. Don't look at me like that... Unlike other things, just be thankful that it can be treated." She ordered the man.

Even if it's against his will, he just followed what she said...