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ladylookslikeadude1 · 5 months
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Prompt #3490
“Which god do you pray to?”
“Why?”
“I want to know who I’m sending you back to.”
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ladylookslikeadude1 · 6 months
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Hey all, I've found that Say You Want Me has been reposted without my permission on at least fanfiction.net. If you guys see it anywhere, please let me know and/or report it, because I haven't authorized anyone to repost any of my fics.
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ladylookslikeadude1 · 7 months
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I highly appreciate the “happy ending” tag on angst fics, dark fics, etc. Its existence increases the probability of me reading by a significant amount
but some people are like “why even read those fics if you already know how they’re gonna end?”
Well, it’s kinda like going on a roller-coaster. I wanna experience the ride. The ups and the downs, the twists and turns. But I also wanna know that at the end, it’ll come to a safe stop and I’ll be able to get off of it completely unharmed
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ladylookslikeadude1 · 8 months
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scorched earth.
a comic about a princess who died in a fire.
(this is a sequel to bite of winter, a comic about Snow and what became of her after her death.)
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creative notes:
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--
all my other comics
store
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ladylookslikeadude1 · 9 months
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One of them will have to get finished eventually, right???
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ladylookslikeadude1 · 9 months
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Alanis Morissette, Sorry to Myself/Haruki Murakami,1084
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ladylookslikeadude1 · 9 months
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The kiss prompt had me feeling too much like a kid in a candy store, and I couldn't pick. I managed to narrow it down to three, hopefully one of them sparks joy?
…as a suggestion.
…after a small rejection.
…because they’re running out of time.
for buddie please 🩶
:D thank you! i went for 'a kiss after a small rejection', hope you enjoy!
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Buck has been extremely supportive of Eddie's dating woes, in his opinion. He has been a good friend about it, listening sympathetically to the post-game of every date that fizzled out and every connection that failed to manifest. After Marisol, there was Raquel, and then Marta, and María, and Janelle. Then, maybe less shocking than it would have been a couple of years ago, there was Daniel, and Liam, and Álvaro. Eddie told him about the first of those dates with a glint in his eye that dared Buck to comment, so Buck didn't.
But it means that they're currently in this weird holding pattern where Buck knows that Eddie likes men, and—maybe more relevantly—is willing to consider dating a man, and they still haven't actually talked about it.
That's a conversation that should probably happen. Buck just doesn't know how to bring it up without immediately blurting everything out, without begging Eddie to consider him as an option. And if he does that, there's no coming back from it. If he does that, and Eddie says no, he doesn't know what'll happen. The world will end, or he'll die of mortification and disappointment, or something else unspeakably awful will occur. Maddie keeps telling him that he's catastrophizing, and he knows she's probably right, but that doesn't mean he can just make himself stop.
He's working on it.
Right now, Eddie is flopped across Buck's new couch—brown leather, wide and squashy and comfortable. Natalia helped him pick it out, and he feels a little weird about keeping it now, but the truth is that the couch turned out to be a better fit than the relationship. It's big enough for the two of them to sprawl on while they drink their beers and Eddie grumbles about his most recent date.
"I mean, you know, it was fine. Whatever," he says, with a huffy little shrug. Buck loves Eddie in every mood, but there's something especially charming about him when he's being petulant like this. Maybe because it's such a contrast to the calm, in-control face he presents to the rest of the world. Buck's not the only person who gets to have this part of Eddie, but he is a member of a select group.
"So no second date?" he asks, trying not to sound hopeful.
"He said I was 'a nice guy, but he didn't feel a connection'," Eddie says, with sarcastic one-handed finger-quotes. He takes another sullen pull on his beer.
"That's not so bad," Buck offers. Eddie's dates don't usually crash and burn the way Buck's have a tendency to, or did back when he was actually trying to date. People like Eddie. He's polite and kind and thoughtful, and reserved in a way that comes across as mysterious and fascinating instead of aloof. And that's without even getting into the fact that he looks like a fucking model, but most people know that part before they go out with him. Buck has no idea how anybody could go on a date with Eddie and not immediately fall head over heels in love with him, but he is admittedly a little biased.
"Yeah, I know," Eddie sighs. He pushes himself upright and tilts his head back against the couch, cradling his beer between his palms. "I know, it's not like I really wanted a second date either. It's just…"
"Rejection sucks?" Buck offers.
"That too. Mostly I'm just wondering how long I'm going to have to keep doing this before I find somebody I can have a connection with? Like, with Shannon, it was—"
"—bolt of lightning out of the blue?" Buck asks, because that was how it felt for him, with Eddie. That moment outside the ambulance, Eddie's blinding smile and warm handshake and the way something in him cracked wide open then and never really went away.
Eddie huffs. "Kind of. But—we were friends first. We already had that connection. You know? And then one day I looked at her and I felt like—"
He stops abruptly. If Buck wasn't already watching him, he'd probably miss the way Eddie's eyes flick toward him, and then away.
His stomach feels suddenly like he's on a rollercoaster, in giddy freefall.
"Like you were seeing something completely new?" he asks. He folds his hand tight around his beer, but he can feel it trembling.
Eddie takes a deep, visible breath, then nods and leans forward to set his beer down before turning back toward Buck.
"Yeah," he says quietly, and Buck is almost completely sure that they're not just talking about Shannon anymore. Eddie's face is open, his gaze clear, but Buck knows him well enough to detect the faint hint of nerves there.
That's the thing that finally gives him the courage to do what maybe he should have a long time ago.
"Can you just, uh." He clears his throat, then sets his beer down too. "Tell me if I'm totally misreading this?"
"Yeah, okay," Eddie whispers, but he doesn't pull back. Not when Buck shifts closer on the couch; not when he reaches out to settle a hand on Eddie's cheek, and not when he leans in to press a chaste, careful kiss to Eddie's lips.
It lingers softly for a moment, and then he pulls back and opens his eyes. Eddie blinks a couple of times, then smiles, sudden and bright.
"You're not misreading it," he says, and leans in to kiss Buck again.
(for these kiss prompts)
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ladylookslikeadude1 · 9 months
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46. …out of envy or jealousy. for any pairing you'd like! only if it sparks joy, if not, no worries!
thank you! a bit of idiots-in-love buddie fluff; i hope you like :D
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Eddie does not, in his defense, actually plan to do it.
Not like this, anyway. Not in the middle of a crowded bar, not without actually talking to Buck about it first. He's been planning on talking to him. He's even worked out a rough script of what he wants to say. The main points anyway—the things it's important for Buck to know.
I want to take you out on a date. I think we might have something really good. I love you, I've been in love with you for years.
Probably not those last two parts. Not before he even manages to take Buck out on a real date, although the truth is when it comes to Buck there's really no such thing as coming on too strong. He still expects everyone around him to be one wrong move away from leaving.
So that explains this. Maybe.
Buck is warm in his arms, and his mouth is soft and startled against Eddie's, but he gets with the program fairly quickly. He doesn't shove Eddie off like Eddie half-expects, in that instant after the kiss starts when it's too late for him to change course or try to play it off. Instead, he melts into Eddie's arms.
His hand finds Eddie's hip, clutching and warm, and Eddie pulls him closer. Buck makes a soft, happy noise into his mouth, too quiet for anyone else to hear over the noise of the bar that seems very distant now, and tilts his head. His lips part; his tongue is hot, and this—is definitely the kind of kiss that shouldn't be happening in full view of the entire goddamn bar, even if it is late and dimly lit and it's just the two of them here in this corner of the bar.
Well. The two of them, and the guy who was over here blatantly flirting with Buck when Eddie came back from the bathroom. But he's gone now.
"Hey," Buck whispers when they finally part. He sounds breathless; his cheeks are flushed.
He looks happy. Eddie clings to that. He kissed Buck, and Buck kissed him back, and he looks happy.
"So, um," he says, when Eddie doesn't answer, too busy trying to throttle down a rising tide of panic. "Not that I'm complaining, at all, but where did that come from?"
"Uh," Eddie says eloquently, and to his mortification finds himself glancing toward the pool tables, where the dark-haired guy who was here a moment ago has long-since vanished into the crowd. He jerks his gaze back to Buck, but it's too late: Buck has already caught him.
"Wait," he says, starting to grin. Eddie kind of wants to sink through the floor, but for the fact that it isn't mocking at all; Buck looks absolutely goddamn delighted. "Wait, were you jealous?"
"No," Eddie lies defensively.
"You were! You came back, and he was flirting with me, and you were jealous." Buck savors the word like it's the finest wine he's ever tasted. "You were marking your territory, that's why you just kissed me!"
Eddie puts both hands over his face. "That's not why I kissed you."
It is, sort of, but it's not the main reason. Just the last little nudge to his self-control, which has been crumbling for ages now. That last little moment, when he saw a dark-haired stranger leaning into Buck's space, laughing, and some furiously greedy part of Eddie that he barely even knew was there reared up and snarled, no, mine!
And now he's here, mortifyingly exposed, and—Buck hasn't run. Buck is, in fact, still touching him: a warm hand on Eddie's hip, just above his belt. He's smiling. He looks happy.
"No?" he asks.
Eddie takes a deep breath, and makes himself look back at Buck. "I kissed you because I wanted to. I've wanted to for a while." 
For an agonizing moment, Buck doesn't answer. His eyes scan Eddie's face; his lips are softly parted. They're red where Eddie was just kissing him. He desperately, desperately wants to do it again.
"Oh," Buck says finally, softly.
"Is that okay?" It doesn't come out as steady as he wants it to. But Buck smiles then, sudden and bright, and he pulls Eddie in with unmistakable intent.
"Yeah, it's okay," he says, and kisses him back.
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(For these kiss prompts!)
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ladylookslikeadude1 · 9 months
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Can you tell me why Frodo is so important in lotr? Why can't someone else, anyone else, carry the ring to mordor?
but someone else could.
that’s the whole point of frodo—there is nothing special about him, he’s a hobbit, he’s short and likes stories, smokes pipeweed and makes mischief, he’s a young man like other young men, except for the singularly important fact that he is the one who volunteers. there is this terrible thing that must be done, the magnitude of which no one fully understands and can never understand before it is done, but frodo says me and frodo says I will.
(when boromir is thinking of how he can use the ring to defend gondor, when aragorn is thinking of how it brought down proud isildur, when elrond is holding council and gandalf is thinking of how twisted he would become, if he ever dared—)
but then there’s frodo, who desires nothing except what he has already left behind him, and says, I will take the Ring.
it is an offer made out of absolute innocence, utter sincerity. It is made without knowing what it will make of him—and frodo loses everything to the ring, he loses peace and himself and the shire, he loses the ability to be in the world. It’s cruel, the ring is cruel, it searches out every weakness you have and feeds on it, drinks you dry and fills you with its poison instead, the ring is so cruel.
and frodo picks it up willingly. for no other reason except that it has to be done.
(the ring warps boromir into a hopeless grasping dead thing, the power of the palantir turns denethor into an old man, jealous and suspicious, it bends even saruman, once the proudest of the istari, into a mechanised warlord, sitting in his fortress and bent over his perverse creations—all the best of intentions, laid waste)
but there’s a reason gollum exists in the narrative, which is to show—well, to show what frodo might have been. because even as frodo grows mistrustful and wearied, as the burden of this ring grows heavier and heavier, he is never gollum. he is gentle to gollum. he is afraid—god frodo is so afraid for 2/3 of these books he is so tired and afraid, but he keeps moving, he walks though it would pull him into the ground, because he asked for this, he said he would.
someone else could have carried the ring to mordor, I suppose. the idea of a martyr is not dependent on the particular flesh and blood person dying for some greater purpose. but such a thing has to be chosen, lifted onto your shoulders for the right reason, the truest reasons, and followed into the dark, though it would see you burnt through and bled out.
I will take the Ring, though I do not know the way.
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ladylookslikeadude1 · 11 months
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In hell, people can choose what happens to them. They can choose literally ANYTHING. Naturally, many people try to exploit this by going for luxuries and pampering, but the devil ALWAYS has ways to torture those fools…
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ladylookslikeadude1 · 11 months
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If a character (in a high stress situation with minimal information) makes a different decision than you would (a viewer with no stress and more information) —
That is not a plot hole. Thank you.
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Buck is stood staring at his couch with a wrinkled nose when a frantic knocking rips him from his thoughts. Frowning, he skids over to the door on socked feet and yanks it open to reveal a harried Eddie and sheepish Christopher.
"Tell me you aren't busy," Eddie pleads, already pushing into the loft to set down two dangerously full grocery bags on the kitchen island.
The loft suddenly seems a lot brighter, feels a lot warmer.
"I'm not busy," Buck replies as he shoots a questioning look at Christopher who only bites his lip and looks away.
"Oh, thank God." Eddie grabs him by the shoulders with a grateful smile before taking a deep breath. "I am. Busy. Like incredibly busy."
"Okay..." Buck narrows his eyes at him. "So, I'm hanging out with my favourite Diaz then?"
"Hold the thought on that favourite bit," Eddie huffs, dropping his hands. Buck's shoulders turn cold at the loss, he shrugs the absence off. Eddie turns to Christopher with his arms folded over his chest and an arched eyebrow. "Want to tell Buck what you decided to tell me at four pm this afternoon?"
"Fine," Chris sighs, looking up at Buck guiltily. "I need to bake cookies for my whole class."
"Sure, we can do that." Buck frowns, sharing a look with a still frantic Eddie. "When do you need them for?"
Christopher averts his eyes. Realisation dawns on Buck, and he shares a knowingly unimpressed look with Eddie.
"Tomorrow," he mumbles.
"Chris," Buck groans.
"I know, okay?" Chris groans right back. "I forgot. I'm sorry. Will you help me? Please?" He breaks out his patented puppy eyes, and Buck has to try hard not to laugh at the notion he wasn't going to help Chris all along.
Buck steals a look at an apologetic Eddie, shakes his head in a way he hopes conveys I've got your back.
"Of course I will, Chris, you know that." His eyes snap to Christopher when Eddie's face melts into that dangerously fond expression. He's been seeing a lot more of it ever since he woke up from his coma, and it makes him feel a little like a lightning bolt trapped in a human body. He doesn't know what to make of it.
"You are a lifesaver," Eddie tells him seriously, pulling him into a quick hug. "I've gotta get over to Pepa's, but I'll be back around dinner time, okay?"
"Oh, I see," Buck tuts. "You just want to reap the benefits of all our hard work."
"Obviously." Eddie pulls one of his patented frog faces. "I wasn't trying to hide that."
"Lazy good-for-nothing," Buck says, except it comes out sounding much more like you're everything.
"Oh, I'm sorry. Who here was asleep for a wholeass week?" Eddie retorts.
"Ass," Chris snickers.
"Don't," Buck and Eddie scold in unison, sharing a bashful smile. Chris just rolls his eyes.
Buck tries not to preen at how natural all of this is, thinks of Bobby's words in the engine just before lightning struck.
Life's too short to take those relationships for granted.
Buck has seen his world without the Diazes in it, he'll never take them for granted again.
"I don't think a coma is technically considered sleep," Buck argues, just happy that Eddie isn't flinching away from the reminder of the accident like he used to.
"Well, you weren't snoring," Eddie concedes.
"I don't snore!"
"Buck, the only reason I felt okay leaving you sleeping on the couch to make Christopher's lunch was because I could hear you breathing all the way from the kitchen." Buck tries not to think about a worried Eddie hovering over him, fingers itching to reach out and find a pulse, lingering in the doorway to the kitchen because he didn't want to leave Buck alone. "You snore."
"You snore," Chris agrees.
"Betrayal!" Buck gasps. "We're making oatmeal raisin cookies."
"Nooooooo!" Chris cries. "Buck, please!"
"Do I snore?" Buck demands.
"Nope." Chris grins.
"Chocolate chip it is."
"Double chocolate chip?" he tries, eyes wide and sparkling. Buck loves him desperately.
"Nice try, kid." Eddie drops a hand onto Christopher's head. "You get double chocolate chip when you tell us more than one day in advance."
Something warm and content settles in Buck's gut at the ease of Eddie's us.
"Buck?" Chris pouts up at him.
"Nah, not gonna work on me." Buck shakes his head, folds his arms over his chest. Eddie sends him a smile, the small and private one that tucks itself into Eddie's rosy cheeks, the one that Buck's pretty sure he'd return from the dead just to see again.
"Okay, well, you two have got it under control." Eddie ducks down to drop a muah! on Christopher's head, presses a quick one to Buck's cheek. "I'm off! Love you both, see you for dinner!"
Eddie sweeps out of the door in a whirlwind of frantic energy. Buck just watches him go, mouth half-open in a soft 'o' as the skin of his cheek tingles where Eddie's lips had been. He stares at the closed door with wide eyes, stares for so long his mouth goes dry.
Maybe he does have the answers, maybe he's had a couch all along.
A sharp tug on his shirt pulls him from his trance, and he looks down at Christopher.
"Cookies?" he says, entirely too knowing for an eleven-almost-twelve-year-old.
"Cookies," Buck nods.
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everyone has a ship thats just: theyre perfect. they hate each other. theyre married. they havent spoken in 15 years. they have date nights three times a week. theyre divorced. theyre pining, its unrequited. its requited. theyre starcrossed. theyre meant to be. theyre doomed by the narrative. they love each other. theyve never held hands. they wont stop making out at parties. they cant look each other in the eye
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There is nothing more precious to me as a writer than the comments left on AO3. Whenever I get that email notification, I wonder what kind of comment was left. To have a little fun, I'm going to sort the typical comments into a few different categories and share my reactions to them as a writer.
If you feel I missed a comment type, please let me know. I'm curious to learn what other classifications you think exist (positive comment types only please - let's not make this negative). Also, if you wanted to tag yourself, I'd love you know what type of commenter you think you are.
The Polite Conversationalist - Your comment confirms that you read and enjoyed the fic or chapter. You offer praise for the author's efforts and encouragement for them to continue. - If this is you, please know that I'm imagining us holding a book club together. I brought us snacks.
The All Caps Reaction - You left the most unhinged comment. - You were screaming as you read it? I was screaming as I wrote it. Let's be friends.
The How Dare You - The angst is real. And painful. And I'm sorry but the story needed it. - This is a compliment of the highest order and I'm so glad you left it.
The Conspiracy Theorist - You are so invested that you are trying to figure out what comes next. - I'm so excited to read your ideas. They let me know the story tracks for you. And I'm either smiling because you guessed right and I'm excited for you to read what comes next, or I'm grinning because I know the plot twist is going to blow your mind.
The Catch-Up - You haven't commented in a while and are letting me know you are catching up. - I'm so glad you are back! I missed you. I know life gets busy and it means a lot to me that you took the time to read my story.
The Giggle - You laughed at my jokes and let me know. - Did we just become best friends? I'm already making you a bracelet.
The Callout - You found my favorite line in the chapter or fic. - I love you so much. You just made my day, my week, my month. Seriously, all the love for the reader. xoxo
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one of the best time-loop tropes is when the MC goes full feral to the point that it's like "I'm not trapped in this time-loop, y'all are trapped in this time-loop with me"
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Fate and Mercy and Dead Girls
Summary: Sometimes, when things go very wrong, the Chosen One gets a wish. That’s where Danielle comes in. (Tagged with Blood, violence, child death)
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Danielle is cursed.
This battlefield is nice. It’s early afternoon and the breeze that comes from the forest to the east is sweet. The fighting has only just begun and the scent of blood is still hovering at the edge of her senses. It hasn’t erased the taste of the dead girl’s last meal – bread sweetened with honey – yet. She’s used to storm clouds the size of mountains roiling overhead, the electric sting of lightning against her skin, the crash of blades against armor and arrows against shields. The sun is warm and honey-sweet against her cheek and there’s no fighting going on right now. There’s only the low murmur of voices from all around and some muffled sobbing.
If she weren’t waking up in the body of a dead girl, she’d call it picnic weather.
Time to pay attention.
“—Chosen One is dead,” a man says. His voice matches the weather more than the situation. Calm. Even. Gentle. A wave lapping at the shore before the tsunami. She can feel his aura undulating through the ground, dark and demanding. Demon King? Mad Emperor? Dark Lord? One of those types. He projects his words over the renewed sobbing. “Do you see your folly now, honorable knights? The wasted months of defiance? You were never going to defeat my army even with years and seven fabled soldiers at your mercy rather than the one. Here, the day of your final rebellion, your Hero lies dead after only one volley.”
Hero. Danielle is cursed, she shouldn’t be feeling pity for anyone but herself. But there it is, the familiar bile in the back of her throat, the prickling of her eyes, the tightening in her chest. This dead girl was their Hero. They made her their Chosen One. From the feel of it, they didn’t school in her magic or train her in swordsmanship. Her muscles are burning from death, yes, but also from overexertion.
What do you want? Danielle asks. All of the right systems are under her control now. The ground is cold against her back, the girl’s tiny curls a tickle against her face. The air is sweet underneath the scent of a dying blow and she can hear the conversations around her clearly. The Dark Lord is still gloating, giving the knights their time to mourn and his own forces time to ready the next attack. Sweetheart, what do you want?
The girl’s soul shudders. I-I’m not dead?
Keep reading
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The ideal build for an OT3 is A Traumatised Himbo, A Borderline Cryptid and A Straight up Bitch who only likes them.
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