#How to choose TV background wall
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If you want to bury the wires in advance when installing water and electricity, if you are installing a TV, you need to reserve 50 tubes (it is a weak current box, so there are no electrical appliances that need to be plugged in in the TV cabinet, but you still reserve wires in advance. The installed built-in sockets are reserved for backup) Remember to hide the wires so that the overall appearance will be more beautiful and less cluttered. If there are sockets hidden in the TV cabinet, they must be installed before installing the cabinet!
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ELF TOY TESTING
rating : mature!!! (mdni)
tw(s) : enemies to fwb, switch!reader, switch!minho, reader and minho are both elves in Santa's workshop, mommy!minho towards the end!??!, all kinds of sex toys, petnames, praise and degrading, pegging, mean!minho, p in v, dom!reader for like 2 seconds
"It's either this or go back to that horrid job in toddler toys," Hyunjin tries to make you feel better.
You sigh, "what do they even do in Adult Gift Fulfillment?"
"Whatever it is, I'd choose it over my job training Dasher. I swear if he kicks me again I'm going to apply to work as a scout elf," Hyunjin rambles.
Your feet crunch against the snow as he walks you to the gingerbread house dedicated to the Adult Gift Fulfillment Center. "You'll do great, apparently this job is heavily sought after," Hyunjin tries to find the bright side.
You huff, "but apparently my business partner is a pain in the-"
"-It'll be okay! Promise you'll tell me all about it later tonight," Hyunjin cuts you off.
You finally notice you're in front of the large gingerbread house, you take a deep breath, trying to get rid of your nerves. You push open the door, instead of huge assembly lines and wrapping stations, you see desks where elves are reading papers and working on computers. "Oh I'm y/n, I'm the transfer," you say to the nearest elf.
"Oh hi, you're working in the product testing department I think?" the girl says with a confused look, "I'll show you the way."
You follow her up the stairs made of wafers onto the second floor. She stops and nods to the door of the Testing Department. "Just right in there!" she smiles with sympathy.
She must know how bad my new partner is you think.
You nod and thank her, open the door. It's unlike the large room downstairs, only a few desks with many rooms in the background. "Hi you're the new hire right?" A smiley elf with blonde hair, freckles, and kind eyes asks.
"Yeah, y/n, that's me," you smile at him.
"Felix," he pauses, hesitating what he's gonna say next, "this job is great, but uhm your partner is a little uhm..."
You interrupt him while he tries to find the words, "of an ass?"
"Yeah, you could say that," he chuckles awkwardly, "so I'm assuming you're a virgin?"
Your eyes bug out of your head, your jaw falling onto the floor, "a... huh? Excuse me?"
"A virgin?" he stops, "are you one?"
You feel your face heat up, unable to speak, nodding yes instead. He nods in understanding, "then I'll ask the toy makers to give you something easy, not too overwhelming y'know?"
"What do you mean?"
"What do you mean?" he shoots back.
"Like what did," you lower your voice, "my virginity... have to do with testing toys?"
He stares at you blankly for a second before he starts chuckling, "they're adult toys, y'know like vibrators and butt plugs?"
You feel like you're going to faint, "WHAT?" you scream.
"Well yeah, this entire department's job is testing sex toys," he says with an incredulous smile plastered on his, rather handsome, face.
He gives you a soft smile, "it'll be fine, you can hopefully do your first testing by yourself, maybe get used to it before you start testing couple's toys with your partner."
"I-I mean is anyone going to watch me?" you stutter.
"Unless you're testing with Minho no, all you have to do is test it and then answer some questions afterwards," Felix explains, "here let me show you to your desk," he smiles.
He takes you through the office space, unlocking a door into one of the rooms in the back of the office space, "here's your testing office," he opens the door and hands you the keys.
You take the silver keys from him, you look inside the room. Felix steps inside and you follow. Inside is a king size bed with two nightstands, one on each side. A television on the opposite wall from the bed. A chute on the wall to the right of the bed. "Inside the nightstands are lube and condoms just so you know, and after you're done y'know... doing whatever... you put the toy down the chute and the TV will put questions on the screen and you just use the TV remote to answer them. And that's it, it's pretty easy. Also you can watch porn on the TV if you need to to you know... feel... anything," he says the last part awkwardly.
"Seems simple I guess? Oh wait, where do the toys get delivered to me from?" you question.
"There," he points to the indention in the wall with a light overhead it that you hadn't noticed yet.
"Oh well thank you Felix, you seem really nice," you compliment.
"So do you," he smiles, "also if you want to you can keep the toys you test. Just so you know," he winks.
You feel heat in your cheeks. "Well my testing room is next door, so if you ever need anything let me know, bye y/n," Felix says with a bubbly voice as he walks out of the room.
After the door shuts behind him you look back at the room, it is cozy, the dim lighting and comfortable feel are enchanting. The light above the wall indention blinks three times. You walk towards it. A small piece of the wall slides down, a box sized hole in the wall is all that's left, another elf holds the box out to you through the hole, "here you go, since it's your first day I figured I'd give you things pretty easy," the elf's kind voice says, "but later today you do have to do a testing with your partner Minho, we'll just send him to your room," they wait for you to take the box from their hands.
You do, "thank you," you reply.
The other elf removes their hands and then the piece of the wall slides back to cover the gap. You fiddle with the box in your hands. Deciding to open it after staring at it for a good few minutes.
Inside something that looks similar to a rose, on the top a small opening. You press the 'on' button, a small humming is heard. The TV automatically changes to a video of a woman sitting on her bed, the camera leveled with her core as she spreads her legs. Her bare pussy taking over the screen.
You scramble to remove your clothes, but hesitate when removing your underwear. "So this is supposed to suck on your clit," the girl on the screen says.
You watch hesitantly while sitting criss-crossed on the bed, wearing nothing but your bra and panties with the toy in your right hand. You watch the girl on screen turn the toy on, before she places it on her clit.
Apparently it must have felt good because she let out an erotic moan. You sigh, breathing out all your nerves, you lay back.
Spreading your legs, you move your underwear to the side. You hesitantly rub your pussy, fuck, were you supposed to be that wet?
You hold the toy in your right hand and you copy what the girl from the video does, you place it on the throbbing bud above your dripping hole.
Oh. Oh.
That's why so many elves want this job.
~~
You finished answering the last question with the TV remote, you decided to keep that toy for yourself.
You heard moans and whines from the room beside you, Felix, you recognized his deep voice.
You giggle to yourself. You found yourself still in a state of ecstasy.
A knock on your door before it opened up, you scurried to cover yourself with the bed sheets. The elf swiftly closed the door behind himself. His cat-like features were illuminated by the soft glow of lights in the room.
He takes one look at you and he smirks, "I'm Minho," he introduces himself smugly.
"I'm naked," you reply, "would you mind not looking at me?"
He rolls his eyes, but obliges. "You have nice tits," he comments whilst facing the wall.
"Excuse me?" you gaff.
"You heard, I said you have nice tits, and probably a pretty pussy too," he clarifies.
Your face is blank. There was no way they expected you to fuck him.
That was your first time meeting Minho, and it certainly wasn't your last.
The second time you met Minho you were testing a couple's toy, a strap on dildo. Minho was annoyed at you as he laid face down - ass up on the center of the bed, fingering his ass open. "God you really are incompetent, you don't even know how to finger someone. They could've at least not given me the Virgin Mary," he sighs as his fingers thrust in and out of his own ass.
The least you could do was jerk him off, you moved your hand down to his thick, long cock. "Squeeze it tighter around the tip," he critiques.
You follow his instructions, paying closer attention to his flared, dark brown cockhead. "Shit, maybe you're more of a slut than I thought you were," he rasps.
You continue your movements, until Minho stops you, "you can put it in now."
You grab the lube and squirt it on the dildo before you shift behind him on the bed, he looks back and guides the tip of the silicone toy into his throbbing asshole.
Once you bottom out in him you start moving, an awkward learning process, "God you dumb bitch, you don't even know how to fuck right!" he spits venom with his words.
You had enough, "shut up. I didn't ask you how you liked to be fucked did I?" you spit back.
You thrust your hips harder against him. Knocking the wind out of his lungs and the words out of his throat. You build up a rhythm for your hip movements.
"Huh? I want an answer Minho," you request.
His whines and moans grow louder as you thrust deeper and deeper inside him. "Huh? Too dumb to reply," you coo, "dumb little bitch."
Your hand comes down and you slap his ass. The action causes him to moan, "I-cumming-"
"Yeah, cum on my cock like the dumb bitch you are," you seeth.
The third time you had to test a toy with Minho he was having to wear a vibrating cock ring.
"Sure you can take it?" he raises his brow.
You scoff, but soon regret it when he starts moving. The constriction on his cock causing it to swell so deliciously. "Oh there you go, be nice and dumb for me," he mutters.
You throw your head back, you could feel all the ridges and veins of his fat cock inside your sensitive pussy. Everything felt surreal, so sensitive.
"Be a dumb little bitch for me," he smirked, "next time just come to me, I'll make you feel better than any of these stupid toys ever could."
And you were just a dumb bitch for him. Just for those moments though.
That's what you told yourself.
Yet here you were, your face shoved in Minho's couch pillows, while Minho landed a hard slap on your sensitive pussy.
"That's it, such a good whore, you like when mommy abuses your sloppy pussy?" he coos.
Circling his fingers around your clit, pinching it with his index finger and his thumb. Rubbing away all the discomfort in tight circles around your clit. "You have such a cute little clit," he muses with sugar in his voice.
So everytime you were still needy even after a day of testing sex toys, you could always swing by Minho's house. Taking his cock in whatever position he'd give it to you in.
#bun.writes#bunwritesskz#skz imagines#stray kids scenarios#lee know smut#stray kids x you#lee know x reader#lee know#lee know stray kids#lee know scenarios#lee minho#skz smut#skz#skz fanfic#skz hard hours#skz hard thoughts#skz x reader#stray kids smut#stray kids x reader#stray kids#stray kids fanfic#skz imagine#skz one shot#bunskinkmas.2023
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new rules
summary: "Don’t pick up the phone, he’s only calling because he’s drunk and alone. Don’t let him in, you’ll have to kick him out again. Don’t be his friend, you know he’s going to wake up in your bed in the morning. If you’re under him, you’re sure as hell not getting over him."
rating: explicit (18+ mdni)
pairing: bradley 'rooster' bradshaw x f!reader
word count: 8.5k (this got away from me sorry y'all)
warnings: angst (lack of communication!), idiots pining, PiV (unprotected), oral (f receiving), hangman x phoenix (blink and u will miss it), no use of y/n.
notes: thank you to @waklman for letting me bounce ideas off you! im very nervous abt this one, i feel like its dif from my other stuff so pls pls let me know what u think! my other works are here
Friends with benefits is maybe an inaccurate way to describe what’s going on between you and Bradley. Friends? Sure, since he asked you if you were using that bench at the beach and then he’d introduced himself. With benefits? You’re not sure if they really could be classified that way.
Bradley’s almost always a perfect gentleman.
He doesn’t ignore you in the daylight, but the two of you never talk about the way he finds himself in your bed most nights rather than not, drunk or sober.
It had started one night when you’d turned down an invitation to go to the Hard Deck, instead choosing to do a night of self care. You’d spent too long doing your eyebrows and managed to get a sheet mask to fully cover your face for once. You lost count of how much time you spent in the shower as an indulgence, and threw on the comfiest clothing you owned. Then, you sat yourself down in front of your TV to numb your mind with some perfectly trashy reality television.
Around 11:30, your phone had rang. Picking it up and squinting at the brightness, you saw Bradley’s face grinning back at you, the picture from one of your many beach days since you’d met.
Despite your best instincts you’d picked up. What if he was stranded? What if something had happened? You’d steeled yourself for the worst.
Instead, Bradley had just opened with a simple, “Hey.”
“Bradley? Is everything okay?” You could hear the noise of the Hard Deck in the background, but it had been yelling and there weren’t any sirens.
“Yeah,” His sigh had come over extra loud through the speakers, “Just uh, was just thinking about you.”
“Okay,” What the hell? You remember mouthing the words to yourself as someone on screen had thrown a drink in someone else’s face. “Are you sure you’re okay?”
He hadn’t responded to your question, instead he’d just said, “Are you at your apartment?”
“Yeah, I’m here. Bradley is everything–”
“I’ll see you soon.” And with that, he’d hung up with a definitive click.
You’d stared at the dimming screen of your phone for probably almost five minutes. Surely he couldn’t have been that drunk–god, was he planning on driving? Calling him during that was probably a bad idea.
Great, leave it to Bradley to stress you the fuck out on a Friday evening when you’d been aiming for peace. You’d tried to refocus on your show, but you weren’t even paying attention to the words.
No more than five minutes later, there had been a knock at your door. You’d stood slowly, not sure that this was actually happening.
You’d opened the door to a Bradley with flushed cheeks and a glint in his eye, leaning against the railing outside your apartment. It was only after a moment of silence that you realized you were wearing an old Navy shirt of his, loaned to you at the beach a few weeks ago. You could feel the way his eyes started at your legs and dragged up your frame, taking everything in.
“Bradley?”
He’d pushed off the railing and backed you into your apartment, letting the door swing shut behind the two of you. You’d backed into the living room til your back hit a wall, your heart in your throat. You couldn’t look away from him, not with the way he’d been crowding into your space, leaning into you.
“Hi, sweetheart.” His voice was a tone he’d never used on you before, and you remember the way your heart had hammered in your chest.
He’d been so warm and so close, setting all of your nerve endings on fire. It wasn’t that you hadn’t realized that Bradley was attractive–the man’s whole job was to stay in shape and be clean cut. He was beautiful. But you’d kept that to yourself, afraid of crossing that line, afraid that you’d ruin something that was turning out to be one of the strongest friendships you’d had in years.
You still feel that fear, despite all the lines that have been crossed since that moment.
The way he’d kissed you had wiped every thought from your head. His hands had slid up your thighs to grip at your waist under his shirt hanging loosely on you. His mouth had moved smoothly against yours, making you sigh and wrap your arms around his shoulders.
By the time the two of you had made your way into your bedroom, he’d lost every piece of clothing but his briefs and his dog tags. They’d dug into your sternum as you’d pressed yourself against him, the cool metal warming quickly between the two of you.
The way your blood had been rushing in your ears from adrenaline had drowned out the way he’d murmured to himself as he’d kissed down your body. He never did pull his shirt off you. He’d simply maintained his grip on your hips, lifting your thighs over his shoulders as he’d pulled your panties down and licked desperately into you.
Your hands had gone to his hair out of reflex. He had been rocking you steadily and you think you’ll always remember how you felt when you’d realized it was because he was grinding his hips against the bedframe, so turned on from getting his mouth on you.
He’d eaten you out like a man starved, his nose bumping into your clit as his tongue fucked you. It had been messy and loud but you hadn’t cared about the neighbors or your dignity, not with the way his fingers had finally curled into you.
“Bradley,” You’d gasped when you finally came, back arching and fingers tightening in his hair to the point where your knuckles ached.
He’d held you through it, had let you rock your hips against his face and not complained at all. In fact, he’d seemed delighted by the way you’d let yourself just feel, pleasure wracking your body and consuming your mind in a haze.
Kissing his way up your body, he’d slid his hands under the shirt and groped you gently. You remember the way your mind had stayed cloudy and you’d floated, tethered only to the real world by the way his thumbs flicked gently at your nipples.
“I’m here, I’m here,” He’d panted into your mouth as you whined when he’d sat back slightly to kick off his briefs and hitch your thighs over his waist, “I’ve got you.”
The first time Bradley had ever slid his cock into you, you knew you’d never be the same, that you’d never be able to go back. Not when he’d kept himself hovering over you just barely, propped up on his elbow, with his lips still brushing yours and his dog tags catching in the sheen of sweat along your sternum. Not when he rocked into you inch by inch, making the world around you blur into nothingness.
You’d let yourself fall apart under him, let yourself sink into the mattress and just take whatever he was willing to give you. He’d fucked you deeper and more gently than anyone before–to this day, you’re not even sure you can classify it as ‘fucking’, that always felt too vulgar for the way he’d brushed his lips over your cheekbones and murmured sweet nothings.
But saying Bradley had, and still does, made love to you means trying to find something from nothing, means discerning some sort of level of connection he’s never made clear. You’re not trying to break your own heart more than you already are.
In spite of that, you can’t forget the way he’d held you like you were precious, like you were everything to him. He’d cum inside you with a guttural moan, a punched out gasp at the way you’d clenched around him. It had made you realize that was all you’d ever wanted, Bradley warm around you and inside you, him making you feel complete in a way you hadn’t known you weren’t whole before.
He’d been a perfect gentleman when you’d both come down, easing out of you so he could clean up. He’d massaged your thighs and hips where you were sure you would’ve been aching the next morning if he hadn’t, had apologized under his breath at the fingerprints now dotying your hips. He’d thumbed at the collar of the Navy shirt where it had stayed on your frame the entire time, looking pensive but never saying anything.
You’d woken up alone the next morning, a sticky note on the bedside table reading–Had to run for work. Thanks for having me over. A messy heart and a hastily scrawled Bradley closing off the message.
And so it went. So it goes.
During the day, you and Bradley are the paragon of good friendship–he’ll send you memes when he gets access to his phone in between flights and lessons, you’ll pick him up after work to go to the beach. The two of you don’t talk about it–because what is there to talk about?
No words are ever exchanged about the way that Bradley clears out a drawer for you at his place, you just find a few of the things you’d left at his place in there one day. You never give back his Navy shirt, not when you find yourself wearing it more often than not. Nothing is said about how you start picking up his favorite flavors of ice cream and his preferred brand of coffee creamer, you just make a habit of throwing them into your cart when you go to the store.
And everything is fine. It really is. You disregard the side glances from Phoenix and Bob as they see you leave with Bradley on Friday and Saturday nights, you ignore the way Hangman wiggles his eyebrows at you when Bradley insists on paying for your drinks. Just friends, is all. Just friends.
They can make their assumptions, whisper while you’re out of ear shot, but they don’t see the quiet, comfortable domesticity that you and Bradley engage in when the two of you are alone. You go back to his after beach afternoons since it’s closer to your favorite spot, and the two of you will shower (separately) and make dinner together. Sometimes you’ll sleep over if you’re working remote the next day, sometimes you’ll go home.
On weekends, Bradley picks you up in the morning, trunk holding a cooler full of drinks and snacks, and you two will go to the beach again or go on a hike. Sometimes Phoenix or Bob or the whole crew will come along, sometimes they won’t.
Just friends. And it’s fine.
Until everything isn’t fine.
Bradley and you have been at this for a few months now, and you can feel yourself cracking. You’re reaching out to kiss him when you do wake up together, before your brain is awake enough to stop you, reminding you that that’s not what you two do. On an outing to a boardwalk teeming with life and populated by those games you can win stuffed animals at, you resist the urge to press him against the railing of the pier and lick the taste of your shared gelato cone out of his mouth.
When the dam finally breaks, it begins like any other night. You have a margarita and a half in you, some concoction that Phoenix insisted you try that’s actually good. Bradley’s already done a rendition of My Way at Penny’s request, but for now the jukebox is blaring some 80s hit Hangman picked out.
You can feel yourself swaying to the beat, just letting the warmth of the moment sink in as you’re surrounded by your friends, the people you love.
“Hi,” Bradley breathes into your ear as he sidles up next to you, his arms coming to settle around your waist. You can feel his warmth through the flimsy fabric of the dress you’ve got on.
“Hi Brad,” He hates it when people call him that–lets you get away with it though. “What’cha doin’?”
“Waitin’ for you.” He leans his entire body weight against you, making you slump against the table you’re standing next to.
“Ah! Bradley, stop it.” You try to stand, but the way he’s laughing makes it hard to shake yourself from his grip, “What do you mean you’re waiting for me? I’m waiting for you.”
The grin he shoots you is electric, and for a moment you think he’s going to kiss you, right here in the middle of the Hard Deck, with all your friends around and in Penny and Mav���s line of sight. That thought makes your heart skip a beat.
“Come home with me?” He whispers, just barely letting his voice rise above the background noise, and when you don’t respond immediately, “Or let me take you home?”
That’s all it takes, really, for you to agree. The way he’s so willing, so malleable, for you. You’re leading him out by the hand without responding to his questions, making your way to the Bronco that’s parked in the back corner of the lot.
Bradley keeps the foolish grin on his face the entire time he drives back to your apartment. The warmth radiating from him doesn’t abate when he licks into your mouth once the two of you are inside. One of his palms rests against your heart, the other working its way up your thigh and inside your panties that are already damp.
“You’re so good to me,” He murmurs, dipping his fingers below your waistband and brushing through your curls, feeling just how slick you are.
All you can do is whine as he picks you up and makes his way to your bedroom. For once, he doesn’t trip or stub his toe on anything, and it somehow heightens the intensity. Normally, you and Bradley seek comedic relief of some sort, something to cut the tension and keep it from making your chest tighten in a way that feels like a warning. This time, you aren’t granted any such reprieve.
He undresses you slowly and deliberately, letting his fingertips drag lightly up your sides and over your shoulders. He shrugs his Hawaiian shirt off easily, and lets you yank his wife beater over his head without complaint.
Then, the two of you are just staring at each other, both panting lightly. You’re propped up on your elbows, staring up at him only in your panties. Bradley’s got one hand about to pop the button of his jeans, but he’s frozen. You feel like you can’t move but also like something might be changing.
You don’t want it to change, you don’t want to lose Bradley in more ways than one. If this is what he’s willing to give you, you don’t want this to change.
He nearly falls over when his foot gets stuck in his jeans, and even that doesn’t break the tension. Once he’s climbing over you, enveloping you, kissing up your stomach and neck, you forget all about decorum and keeping up appearances.
The whine that echoes around the room is pathetic and high pitched, but it’s the only way you think to communicate to Bradley how bad you need him in that moment. His hips are rocking gently against yours and you want the layers gone, you need to feel him.
“I know, sweetheart, I know,” And his hands are around your hips, dragging your underwear off you unceremoniously.
Although he makes a good attempt at going down on you, you don’t let him. You dig your fingers into his shoulder and yank at his hair to keep his face level with yours and kiss him desperately.
“I want to eat you out, please?” The depth of his voice sends a shiver through you.
Normally he wouldn’t even have to ask, but you don’t want that right now. You just want to feel him inside you.
“Need you in me, please,” You take a heaving breath before the pleading spills out of you, “Pleasepleasepleaseplease–”
He shushes you as you scrunch your face up, not knowing how else to convey your desires in that moment, “Okay. I’ve got you, it’s okay.”
You almost wail in protest when his fingers slide into you. You can’t figure out why you feel like you’re burning up from the inside out, why you feel so fucking needy.
“Sweetheart you gotta let me prep you somehow, just–”
You feel like the embarrassment might kill you when you keen at the feeling of his fingers inside you. The way you’re trying to be good, you really are, because he does have a point. Plus, you have to be fair to Bradley, this isn’t just about you.
So you hold still, let him work his fingers in and out of you as you pant and clutch at his shoulders like a lifeline. His mouth presses against yours, works its way over your cheeks and down your throat. He sucks a mark gently into your collarbone, and you ignore the way your brain reminds you about having to cover that up for work.
He doesn’t shut up the entire time, just keeps telling you how good you’re doing for him, how good you feel, how he’s been thinking about this all night. The world seems to go right-side up again when he pushes into you.
You whimper at the way he rocks his hips ever so gently before pulling out. He kisses you again and again, only letting his lips leave yours so he can kiss your forehead or cheeks. The motion of his hips is a steady tempo, he keeps time with your breaths that turn into moans when you start feeling that telltale coil in your stomach.
He runs his tongue along your teeth and you’re done for. You clench down on him and dig your nails into his skin, bucking your hips up as your orgasm washes over you like a tidal wave.
Bradley fucks you through it like every other time, yes, but this time there’s something about the way he stutters out a moan and his hips match the faltering rhythm as he finishes right after you. The shallow rocking of his hips continues and you try to ignore the prickling of tears at the corners of your eyes.
Something tells you that this time, you shouldn’t have let Bradley take you home. When he pulls his face back from yours and he rolls the two of you onto your sides without pulling out, he’s got this look on his face that screams unspoken words. He cups your face and strokes your cheekbone with his thumb without saying anything.
The two of you are quiet as he cleans you up, as you dress yourself in another one of his shirts.
When you wake up the next morning, Bradley isn’t there. It doesn’t shock you necessarily, sometimes he stays, sometimes he has to leave to be on time for work.
What does send a terrible feeling trickling down your throat and into your stomach is the post-it, all four square inches covered in sloppy hearts. Bradley had signed his name in the bottom left corner, characteristic chicken scratch labeling it as him even if the name wasn’t enough.
This has to end.
Don’t pick up the phone, he’s only calling because he’s drunk and alone.
You last about three rings before you cave in, waiting for the sound of his voice to echo around the apartment. You’re holding your breath.
“I knocked.” Is all he says before you’re on your feet, making your way to the door.
There he is, and although you know he isn’t really drunk, you know he’s got a beer or two in him from the way he doesn’t try to hide how he looks at you. You hate the way you’re weak for him.
You’ve been caving to him more than once a week since that first night, since Bradley had knocked your world off kilter. Though you’re in bed together almost every night, whether at his place or yours, you don’t have sex nearly every time. Part of you thinks that might make it worse. It really had been fine at first, but the first morning you’d cried at the sight of that sticky note covered in hearts, you’d known you had to try and put an end to this.
“We’ve got to stop meeting like this,” He tries, a crooked grin splitting his face as he walks toward you, but you know he doesn’t mean his words at all.
“Bradshaw, have you been drinking?” You want to not want this, want to not want the way his gaze pins you down, the way the length of his body against yours just feel so right.
Let him being drunk and you being sober be the excuse, you beg silently. You can’t manage to force out that maybe he should go home, sleep this off in his own bed. You can’t find it in yourself to tell him to leave, to reject his advances. Watching as if outside your own body, he shuts the door behind him and walks up to you.
Your chest aches with unconfessed feelings when he takes your face in his hands and lets his forehead rest against yours. His lips are soft and warm against yours, his mustache tickling you lightly when it brushes against your face. The whine you let out matches his soft groan, and the two of you stand there making out for a few minutes, almost as if you’re both content to just drink each other in without further motives.
“I’ve got you sweetheart, I’ve got you,” And he’s picking you up.
You yelp at the way you’re suddenly lifted from the ground and you bury your face in his neck. You hate heights, your feet off the ground anything more than a few inches sends you spiraling in short order. But it’s Bradley who’s holding you, and some part of you knows he’d never let you fall, never let you crash into the ground.
The way you two fall into your bed is too natural, it makes your stomach churn. His fingers find their place on your hips, around your thighs. It’s all too easy. You wish it would be a bit more awkward, that the chemistry could be imagined or false–instead you’re confronted by the way your bodies flow with one another’s all too easily.
Again, somehow, you’re in nothing but his Navy shirt.
Maybe I should give it back, the thought flits through your mind and you feel guilty immediately. Bradley always seems to take a special sort of pleasure from fucking you in his shirt, and you selfishly want to keep that bargaining chip, to have something that tethers him to you. If he won’t come back to press you into your sheets, then maybe he’ll come back one last time to get his shirt when this inevitably unravels.
“Sweetheart,” He groans softly when his fingers reach the way you’re embarrassingly wet between your legs.
It takes everything in you not to jerk back from his touch–you still don’t know how to confront the way you’re so responsive to his touch. His mere presence.
“I missed you.”
It slips out before you can stop yourself, your lips part and you breathe the words before you can do anything about it. He chooses that exact moment to dip a fingertip into your fluttering, but empty, hole, and you arch your back and moan. Instead of responding, he kisses you hungrily, all pretense gone.
This isn’t something entirely tender, not anymore. He’s searching for something, a certain reaction, with the way he adds and then curls his fingers inside of you. He finds it when you jerk underneath him at the way he pets at that spot inside you you can never seem to reach on your own.
He mumbles against your lips, “There you go,” As you squirm under him, the press of his fingers inside you relentless.
He works his fingers in and out of you, not taking anything in return. It’s all you can do to hold on to him and whine pitifully. Every sensation feels amplified, feels electric because it’s him.
The two of you settle into a familiar rhythm for as long as it takes for Bradley to make you cum the first time. You’re rocking against him through the aftershocks and you can feel the way he’s hard against you through his clothes.
He’s still dressed. The realization sends a bolt of shame through you, but it doesn’t linger long.
He’s shoving his jeans down his legs, not bothering with wiping his hand clean and you shiver at the thought that he’ll have to put them on again, you streaked across them. He makes quick work of his boxers too, and it occurs to you that he must’ve lost his shirt somewhere along the way when he presses his bare chest against your still clothed one.
“Bradley, Bradley,” You chant, “Take off my shirt.”
It’s the most demanding you’ve probably ever been with him, but he laughs at you anyways. There’s a glint in his eye as he sits up, his hard cock bobbing between his thighs. The sight of his naked form between your spread legs makes you swallow hard and your mouth water.
“I like you in my shirt.” There’s something unsaid there, something about claims and ownership that isn’t truly possession, but a reminder of who belongs to whom regardless.
You pull it off your head in protest, and grab his wrist to drag him back down to you. You let yourself indulge in trailing a hand down the firm planes of his body down to where he’s smearing precum against your thigh. He’s heavy and pulsing in your hand and a light hiss rushes through his clenched teeth when you grip him tightly and twist with your wrist.
“Fuck, fuck, not gonna last if you–” Bradley cuts himself off with a groan as you swipe your thumb over his head.
It’s your turn to laugh, “You just got here.”
“Well, have you ever had sex with yourself? It’s tough out here–give a guy a break.”
The both of you dissolve into giggles at that, as you try to imagine how you would look sprawled under yourself. You can’t picture it, but the image of Bradley under or over you makes you think you might understand.
He lines his hips up with yours once you’re both done making fools of yourself at the thought of you having sex with yourself (it reminds you of a drunk hypothetical you’d spent thirty minutes on with Hangman once–would you have sex with a clone of yourself?).
The first push of him inside you cuts through the lighthearted mood immediately. It always shocks you how perfectly he fits inside you despite his size, how incredibly full you feel when his hips meet yours. The gentle friction of the neat curls at the base of his cock against your clit always provides a stimulation that makes your brain go fuzzy.
The snap of his hips against yours is more intense this time, a sort of rhythm that makes you briefly think about the way the headboard might start knocking against the wall. But all thoughts, really, fly out of your head when Bradley brings a hand up to your nipples, the steady stroke of his fingers over the swell of your breasts as practiced and knowing as everything else he’s doing to you.
All you can do is run your hands down his back, scratch your nails against his skin ever so often when he brushes against something so sweet and perfect inside you. You clench around him just to see the reaction it’ll get, and you’re rewarded with a broken groan.
“You’re not fighting fair,” He gasps, and he hitches one of your thighs up so he can press more insistently into you.
You have a clever comeback somewhere in you–something about how you weren’t aware that the two of you were fighting, but it’s swallowed as he presses his lips into yours again. He seems absolutely intent on showing you exactly how you make him feel because the sensations of pleasure become overwhelming.
“Fuck sweetheart, you feel perfect, god you’re so wet for me,” He’s rambling mindlessly, but you let it happen, clinging to any expression of emotion, any sliver of dedication in his tone that you can hold on to til the next time you find yourself in this position.
You know he’s close when his grip on your thigh tightens forcefully and the strokes go from long and deep to slightly shorter and stunted. He’s grunting and gasping, but it’s all the best thing you’ve ever heard.
“Come for me Bradley, I want to feel you,” And at that, he follows your orders, listens to you for once in his life.
Everything is hazy as he keeps himself hovering over you and continues to rock his hips. You start to try and tell him he can pull out before his fingers find your clit and he dives back in to kiss you passionately.
Bradley is a perfectionist at heart, an overachiever. You suppose it isn’t entirely ridiculous that that extends to his performance in the bedroom–he’s insistent you finish every time, and always more than him. Feeling the way he’s still warm and heavy inside you, his lips firm against yours, brings you over the edge more quickly than you’d like to admit.
Still, you heave a shuddering gasp and let the pleasure wash over you. It’s overwhelming and all consuming, but he’s there through all of it til you feel yourself come back into your own body.
You think he might be writing something on your skin, the way his finger loops and dips softly over your hip bone as he kisses you gently. He’s softening inside you and you can feel the mess the two of you made under your hips, except he isn’t moving, not yet at least, to rectify that situation.
For once, you don’t push him to go clean up or scold him for another set of ruined sheets, you just let yourself bask in the moment as you imagine a world where the two of you will talk about this in the morning. You think of a timeline where this is where you end up because it’s where you’re meant to be, not because it’s something you’re choosing despite how it hurts you every time. You think of a place where Bradley is yours and you are his, wholly and completely.
Don’t let him in, you’ll have to kick him out again.
“Didn’t you have a date tonight?” You breathe into his mouth.
Bradley just hums in response, brushing his lips over yours, down your jawline and your throat. His breath comes in warm puffs over your collarbones before he pulls back.
Hands pinned above your head, you squirm under his gaze. There’s something so intense about the way he’s looking at you, but you can’t bring yourself to squeeze your eyes shut to avoid it. Both of you lost your clothes somewhere on your way to the bedroom, and you’re thinking about how to persuade him to be the one to pick it all up when this is inevitably over.
He smells like expensive cologne, and he’s got some product in his hair that made it difficult for you to brush your hands through it earlier. Plus, Phoenix had been dropping unsubtle hints earlier in the week (Hangman had affectionately called her out, a little sigh following— “You’re being such a shit stirrer.”)
“Bradley,” You try again, this time with a slight whine.
Did he seriously ditch some girl that’s probably been waiting on their date all week for this?
He responds by whispering your name back to you, the same tone undercutting the way he says it, “That doesn’t matter, I’m here now.”
The urge to keep complaining rises in you but he preempts your worries by licking into your mouth when you open it.
He presses you into the mattress, weighing you down as he kisses you languidly, as if he’s trying to taste every part of you, as if he’s trying to memorize the sounds that escape you when he does. The warmth of his body makes your mind fog, and for the time being, everything else but this goes quiet.
Distantly, you know that in the morning, he’ll have to leave. At the very least, he’ll have to go back to his to grab his stuff for the beach, a change of clothes. It isn’t kicking him out, but watching him leave again and again has started to build this pit at the bottom of your stomach.
It would be different, you think, if the two of you were together. Because then, him leaving wouldn’t mean much where there would be an implicit promise and understanding that he was going to come back. Every time he closed the door behind him, you swallowed the fear that that would be your final memory of him.
You’re selfish though. And you want to focus on the feeling of his touch instead of thinking about how you may never get to have this again.
He makes it easy. Bradley pulls his shirt off and his dog tags make a gentle clinking sound as they hit each other and then finally come to rest on his chest. He looks like a god, backlit by the setting sun coming through your windows.
This is how you want to remember him. Smiling down at you as he dives back in to kiss you breathless, twitching when you skim your fingertips up his sides because he’s ticklish.
He makes short work of your shirt and sleep shorts, then his jeans are discarded. He stops briefly when his fingers reach the waistband of your underwear, a silent question that you answer by lifting your hips and letting him pull them off you.
Every time he’s between your legs, he has this reverent look on his face, and it makes your chest twist at the fact that this time is no different. He holds your thighs open gently but firmly, and he presses his face into your pussy. Then, his tongue is darting out and licking up your core, flat and wide.
You’d asked him once, if he likes going down on you. With a gleam in his eye, Bradley had said it was second only to being inside of you. You think of that as he eats you out enthusiastically, as you bury your hands in his hair and pull.
He slides his tongue in and out of you, curls it around your clit and sucks in a way that makes your back arch and your thighs clenched around his head. Then, he’s slipping a finger inside and fucking you slowly with it. It makes you shiver as you realize how close you are.
“Sweetheart, fuck, you taste incredible,” He murmurs, more to himself than anything else, pulling back briefly to make eye contact and you feel the way your breath quickens at the intensity of his gaze.
It only takes a few more minutes of him licking into you, tonguing at your clit, and adding another finger before you feel that familiar swooping in your stomach, before you’re choking out his name. Your back arches so much it aches, but it’s all you can do as the pleasure is all consuming. Bradley works you through it like every other time, holding you and letting you take what you need from him.
Then, he’s on you in an instant, kissing you furiously and sliding his hardness up and down you, covering himself in your slick. It’s filthy and sloppy but neither of you seem to mind. He lets himself rut against you til you’re hooking your legs around him and digging one of your heels into his back.
“Alright, alright,” He’s trying to sound nonchalant, but you know he’s more affected than his light tone lets on.
The first push into you is always the most intense, but you suck in a deep breath that you force out through your teeth.
“I know, I know,” He croons, pressing little kisses all over your face as you adjust to him.
Bradley inches into you slowly, inch by inch. The initial stretch subsides til it’s replaced by the sweetest feeling of fullness, the way you can feel all of him.
If there’s one thing the Navy’s good for, it’s the sheer strength Bradley possesses and has to maintain. You feel it in the way he fucks you, his back muscles rippling as you hold on for dear life. You feel it in the way his hips press into yours, shunting you slightly up the mattress.
For a while, the only sounds in the room are his hips meeting yours and the slick between the two of you. Momentarily, he pulls away from kissing you to look down to where he’s disappearing inside of you, that ring of you collecting at the base of his cock. His groan is guttural and broken.
“Fuck, Bradley, it feels so good.”
He leans down again to kiss you sloppily, and the simple action of him burying a hand in your hair and twisting his wrist makes your heart skip a beat. He always knows exactly what you need when you need it.
“C’mon, come for me, sweetheart, let me feel you.”
And because you’ve never been able to deny him anything, there you are, hurtling over the edge again. He’s everywhere around you, inside you, and his tongue in your mouth is the last thing you need to feel that wave crest inside of you. Bradley’s moan is deep as he feels you bare down on him and he follows you shortly after.
The moments after, when the glow is still settling and your mind is still hazy, are your favorite. Your mind is too foggy to focus on the fact that you know he’ll be leaving, but present enough to feel the way he doesn’t stop pressing kisses to your lips. You’re cognizant of how he cleans you up tenderly and presses his fingers into the skin of your thighs and hips just to watch it dimple.
In those precious few minutes, that’s all that exists to you.
Don’t be his friend, you know he’s going to wake up in your bed in the morning. If you’re under him, you’re sure as hell not getting over him.
You’re trying to ignore him, you really are. You start going to the beach an hour earlier than you usually do, hoping that he’s maintaining his schedule. Every tall brunette jogging across the sand sends your heart into overdrive.
You still see Bradley when you go to the Hard Deck for a drink, but you keep a respectable distance between the two of you. If Phoenix mentions a round of pool, you jump at the chance, while asking Bob and Payback if they’d like to be the opposing team. You ignore the way your heart jumps into your throat when you can feel his eyes on you.
Every note of Great Big Balls of Fire feels like a stab in the chest, and you hold back tears of frustration when you see some girl wrap her arms around his neck and rock along with him as he belts out the lyrics. You’re a fool.
You’ve been ignoring his calls about Saturday morning beach runs and the memes he sends during the day go unanswered except for the little reactions iPhones let you send. You suppose it’s only fair that he gets to ignore you a little bit too.
Your little charade doesn’t last long, not truly in the grand scheme of things. Bradley doesn’t put up with you skirting his advances for long–he knows what he wants and he’ll be relentless til he gets it. And right now, he’s trying to corner you.
And you’re weak for him. You should’ve known from the start that you wouldn’t be able to resist him. You can’t even now, even when you’re only getting him in pieces.
It’s not exactly your bravest moment to be hiding slightly behind Phoenix so he can’t see you (if you can’t see him, he can’t see you, right?) while she stares at you with an endlessly amused expression in her eyes. She doesn’t move to expose you, though.
“What’cha doin’?” Her tone is light, but you can tell she means business.
The two of you are friends yes, but she’s known Bradley for a million times longer. There’s some girl-girl solidarity, but if you were in her shoes, you might have a few bones to pick about potentially throwing Bradley to the wolves on this one. You wonder for a moment if he’s been talking to her about all this, but again, is there even anything to talk about?
“Just uh, trying to see where Hangman’s at?” You sound like you’re asking her a question, and she quirks an eyebrow.
She stretches the syllables of her next word out, letting it hang in the air, “Right. Even I don’t look at Hangman with that sort of intensity.”
That’s not entirely true, but you don’t really feel like getting into a competition with Phoenix of all people, over who’s looking at whom how.
“Sweetheart? Can we talk?”
You’d let Phoenix distract you for just a split second, and there he is, in all his glory. Bradley is beautiful, yes, but he looks tired. His sunny’s are hanging haphazardly from a floral button down that looks like it’s maybe seen better days, and he’s got dark circles marring the perfect tone of his tanned skin.
This time, Phoenix just side-steps you and lets Bradley into your space.
His presence is just as affecting there, in the middle of the Hard Deck, as it was the first time you saw him on the beach. Even with how tired he looks, he’s still glowing just slightly in the evening sun.
“Hi, Bradley,” You breathe, not daring to speak louder, as if that would make the moment real.
You can feel Phoenix’s eyes on you, the way that Bob and Payback are starting to let their attention drift to from the game of pool. This, you don’t want anyone else to be witness to. This is something between just the two of you. You don’t really need the whole world to witness your imminent heartbreak.
“I don’t want to do this here, is my place okay?” He looks so nervous, as if you’re going to push him away. It’s funny really, what you know is about to happen, and yet he still looks like this is about to break him entirely.
Nodding, you let him lead you out of the bar. It feels like deja vu, how however many weeks ago you were tracing these exact steps but making your way towards a very different fate.
The two of you are silent in the Bronco, and Bradley doesn’t bother turning the radio up to belt along to the 80s classic on the radio. Everything feels like you’re underwater, like the world is out of focus. You think you might start crying, but you try and swallow it down, be an adult.
Pulling into the driveway, it’s silent in the car when he turns the engine off. Neither of you go to get out, but you know you can’t sit here forever. This had to happen at some point, had to come to a close. That doesn’t make getting out of the car and waiting for Bradley to unlock the door any easier, though.
You toe off your shoes and let him get you a glass of water. Then, you’re standing on opposite sides of his kitchen, the pristine shine of the countertops and appliances making him feel a thousand miles away. You two are usually tumbling in, mouths locked together, or walking in with groceries, prepared to spend a comfortable evening cooking and watching a movie. This is everything coming apart at the seams.
“Bradley,” You start, not really knowing where you’re going, but just wanting to break the silence.
He looks distraught and your stomach drops with guilt.
This is your fault.
He says your name once as he settles back against a countertop, and it hangs in the air between the two of you, til he starts speaking again, “I’ve been trying to figure out where I went wrong, what lines I crossed, and I guess at some point I realized it was all of them. I shouldn't have pushed you, I shouldn’t have–”
“I thought that that was all I could have of you, so I was selfish and I took it.” You say, the words tumbling out of you before you can stop yourself from interrupting him, but still unable to tear your eyes away from him, “But I was hurting you. I still am, and god, Bradley, I’ll make it up to you somehow, I’m so sorry.”
It’s almost funny, really, the way you’ll look back on this moment a year from now and laugh at the way the two of you are talking past each other, unwilling to acknowledge that your deepest desires could be attainable. But for now, all you can feel is the guilt in your veins, your heartbeat pounding your chest.
“What?” He’d looked at the floor for a moment, but when you finish speaking he’s looking at you intently. “What did you say?”
Taking a deep breath, you steel yourself and start from the beginning, “I thought that you coming to me, like that, was the only way I could have you. And, and maybe it was me taking advantage because you were sometimes not super sober, but I would never–”
“I was always sober. Every time. I would never do that to you. What do you mean that was the only way you thought you could have me?” Bradley’s standing fully now, not leaning.
“I thought you drank before, to, y’know, make it tolerable.” You regret the words as soon as you say them, “Sorry, that’s–you’re not that kind of person.”
He smiles ruefully, “I’m still focused on the part about that being the only way you could have me.”
Here it is.
“I love you, Bradley. And not just as a friend, but more. But I didn’t want to push that on you, and so I thought–”
“You love me?”
A beat.
“Yes.”
Then, he’s laughing in that hysterical way when people are so overcome, the only way it’ll escape them is if they double over in giggles. But he’s trying to compose himself as quickly as he started.
“I tried to tell you so many times how I felt, I left you all those post-it notes, god, I thought you were seeing them and just didn’t feel the same.”
“I-I don’t understand.”
“The hearts. That’s how I,” He heaves a shuddering breath, his voice thick with unshed tears, “That’s how I told my parents I loved them before I could really write. I was saying it to you every time I left.”
“You love me?” You’re crying now, and he squeezes his eyes shut til tears run down his cheeks too.
His laugh is bitter but you know that’s not directed at you, “Was the sticky note covered in hearts not clear enough?”
You feel the way your cheeks warm and your stomach churns as you try and defend yourself, “You were thanking me for letting you sleep over?”
At that, he laughs, genuine this time, breaking the sadness that has been building in the air. Finally, he makes his way across the room to you and crowds into your space, wrapping you in his arms and pressing his forehead to yours. His eyes are closed.
“Sweetheart.” It’s a warning, a plea, and a prayer all in one. “I meant every heart, every I love you, from the very first one I left.”
“I kept them all. In my bedside table.”
Then his lips are on yours. The kiss is salty, reminding you of all the emotion that’s been building for the past few months, every moment you didn’t confess, every moment you assumed the worst, it’s all there. But you don’t want to dwell on that now, now that you’ve heard him say something plucked from your wildest dreams.
“Say it again,” You whisper when his lips leave yours ever so briefly as the two of you are stumbling to the bedroom.
And he does. As he’s undressing you, he says it. He mumbles it against your lips and into your mouth.
He says it against your bare skin as he presses you into his bed, the sheets smelling like him before he puts on cologne. It’s muffled momentarily by the way he takes one of your nipples into his mouth, but you feel the way his jaw works anyways as you cup his face. You let your legs fall open around him and feel the way he slides his fingers into you.
When he’s pressing into you, he’s saying it. I love you, I love you, I love you.
In those moments between start and finish, when the world falls away and all you know is the warmth of his body against yours, the slight slick of sweat on your skin, that’s when you think you realize that he means it. The motion of his hips is deep and insistent, as if to try and leave a permanent reminder that he was there.
You’re crying, you realize. And he’s kissing the tears away like it’s the most natural thing in the world, pressing his forehead to yours as his lips keep forming the words. At some point, you’ve started saying them back to him too, choking them out despite everything so that you know that he knows that you love him.
When you finish, it feels like a supernova exploding inside of you. It starts in the center of your body and pushes its way to your fingertips til you’re gasping for air and he fucks you through it. Bradley cums moments later, filling you with his warmth in a way that’s both familiar and still thrilling.
He rolls gently off you, and you hiss as he slips out. That’ll be a mess to clean up.
But he’s looking at you, brushing your sweaty hair from your face, and his eyes are shining so brightly that it feels like looking at the sun. You want to look away, but you think that losing your vision in return for staring at the way his eyes crinkle in genuine happiness is well worth the price.
I love you, he mouths. And you believe him.
You whisper it back.
tagging: @sebsxphia @roosterbruiser @bradshawburner @gretagerwigsmuse @sometimesanalice @joaquinwhorres @roosterbruiser @roosterforme @bradshawsbitch @seresinsweetie @notroosterbradshaw @genius2050 @peachystenbrough @rhettabbotts @theharddeck @wkndwlff - tagging ppl either by request or whom i feel like are horny for bradley soooo pls let me know if you'd like to be added/removed
#bradley rooster x reader#bradley bradshaw x you#bradley rooster bradshaw#bradley 'rooster' bradshaw#top gun: maverick fanfic#top gun: maverick fanfiction#top gun: maverick#top gun: maverick fic#rooster fanfic#rooster x reader#no use of y/n
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I’m not good with theories or analysis so forgive me if this is stupid but I wanted to share some thoughts
Headcanon. The cables hooking up to him? That’s a new thing, new invention, something he hasn’t tested much. He was excited to use it, it got out of hand. This would explain how everything spiraled out of control with Alastor so quickly. Vox is all about public image, he kept his cool pretty well until Alastor started interfering with his signals. Then Vox started glitching out. Maybe the set up amplifies both his power and emotions- maybe it’s too much for his current body to handle in general. Maybe he’ll need more upgrades.
I can’t think of much else to support this besides how when he’s glitched out here, the screens for the broadcast don’t display any red in the background of his office nor does it display the cables attached to his head. Similair to how he didn’t block Alastors radio in this scene
That’s just a picture he’s displaying. He’s not physically blocking the radio. He just puts up a video of it on the Tv despite the fact he’s not doing jack shit. Similarly, he chooses to edit out the cords when blue screening so everyone watching can’t see them. Even if the machine and cords thing isn’t new he could very likely perceive it as a flaw- needing a machine to help him be more powerful and exert control would be embarrassing for an overlord who values power and control.
Another thing is how he looks here. Not just shocked, but scared and disappointed- to me. Idk he seems more scared if anything. Not necessarily of Alastor- but of his own weakness. He needed to be hooked up to even be able to compete with Al and he still lost. Alastor wasn’t trying particularly hard, either. Alastor doesn’t need any help to be powerful, meanwhile Vox was relying on this new technology. He wants to be powerful and in control but he isn’t and despite how hard he’s been trying he’s not accomplished that goal. He’s the only overlord (besides Val and maybe Vel) who seems to be struggling with maintaining control of his own domain despite control being his whole thing!
I think Vox still thinks that Alastor was weaker than usual during this fight. If he thinks this, then he thinks that although he should’ve had the advantage he still lost. He should’ve won but he didn’t. He strives for change but it’s never enough.
He’s always changing, always trying to upgrade so he can do better, so he can be better, stronger, etc. but it’s having the opposite effect. His refusal to acknowledge his weak points only leads to more problems. He’s dependent on this never ending cycle of upgrades because if he’s not always changing everyone would know he’s not as strong as he’d like them to believe and he’d be forced to come to terms with everything. He’s dependent on technology to make him more powerful, he’s dependent on it to help him exert his control, and he’s dependent on it to cover things up. Without it, everything about him, every little flaw is so obvious.
Alastor is perfectly crafted with his poker face of a smile, every move rehearsed, every word carefully chosen, and Vox is similair. He only lets the public see a certain side of him to maintain his facade of a big strong CEO and overlord and he’s depending on technology and change to help him with that. Alastor isn’t dependent on any such thing, which is why he’s far more successful there.
It’s also why Alastor can see right through Vox. He doesn’t keep with the times, Vox can’t use technology to cover his mistakes from Alastor. Alastor sees Vox for who he truly is, and I think Vox hates that.
He’s putting on a show and building up walls so he doesn’t have to acknowledge the things that could ruin him.
Alastor sees past this, knows his vulnerability and the extent of his weakness and exactly how to exploit it. Alastor has a better control over his domain- the radio. Vox couldn’t interfere effectively even if he wanted, there’s nothing stopping Alastor from revealing it all.
But he’s not that kind of person. No, he’s patient. He takes his time and waits for the moment where that information will strike the hardest.
It’s no wonder Vox is scared of him, desperate for him to Stay Gone.
#hazbin hotel#hazbin hotel vox#hazbin vox#vox#vox hazbin hotel#vox hazbin#vox the tv demon#alastor hazbin hotel#hazbin alastor#hazbin hotel alastor#alastor headcanons#alastor the radio demon#the radio demon#radio demon#theory#heacanons#hazbin theory#hazbin hotel theory#idk man I’m trying
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Here are my first thoughts after finally having watched the 2023 Christmas Special for the first time:
Positive:
Baby Mia is absolutely adorable and Alison and Mike are wonderful parents. They've grown and matured so much throughout the series and it's lovely to see that in the way they are with Mia and take care of her
and speaking of growth: I think it's lovely that in the end, the ghosts are ready to let Alison and Mike go. They've really come full circle from trying to get them to leave in the beginning to begging them to stay in series 5 and finally, to encouraging them to leave because that's what's best for Alison and Mike's family
I love that Alison looks like the tired, exhausted mum she is. These days, characters often look picture perfect in film and TV, no matter the situation, and Ghosts has always felt like a breath of fresh air because people are allowed to look normal. It's little things like Alison's yellow coat that she's worn throughout the show hanging by the door, her wearing Mike's flannels or having bags under her eyes that make it feel beautifully real down to Earth, and I'm glad the downsides of having a child didn't get glossed over
one of my favourite moments was the shrug Humphrey's body gave when everyone was looking for its head. That genuinely made me laugh because of course the body would not care whether the head would get exorcised or not
and omg, the exorcism scene was so well done! I love the music in the background (I so hope we'll get a soundtrack one day), the panic on Mike's face when he quite literally runs to warn Alison, the panic on Alison's face when she's faced with the possibility of losing the ghosts, the fear when she can't find them (which parallels 5x01) and finally the relief and smile when she hears their voices. That whole sequence was just perfect
I love that it's Thomas who says, "Because they just can't help being who they are," because it's not an excuse for his behaviour but an explanation - and a recurring theme for him. Right in the beginning of the show, he said, "We stay how we die," and I think for him, those words have proven to be true. He is heartbroken and he'll stay that way. He can't help that. He does not want Alison to go ("Why did I vote for this? I hate it.") but in the end he knows it's what's best for her and for himself, even if it breaks his broken heart a little more.
seeing Button House in all its glory in the end. It still being called Button House. Fanny and Humphrey's portraits on the wall (and the third one might be Kitty's?). Higham Suite (which was the thing that made me tear up because my first thought was that it's meant to honour Isabelle and I love that (although I realise it's probably meant to honour Kitty but I'm choosing to ignore that)). Thomas still complimenting Alison even though she's grown old and thus making a point that his affections for her were never just about her looks
Neutral:
I would have preferred if Alison and Mike had stayed at Button House because for me, the show has always been about family and I don't think they had to leave the ghosts behind to find their own way. BUT the way the Idiots wrote and executed it - with the ghosts encouraging them to leave, establishing that Alison and Mike regularly come back to the house and with details like Higham Suite that clearly show that Alison and Mike had the ghosts in mind when they made the contract for sale - makes it okay for me.
I'm a bit sad we did not get to see more of the ghosts interacting with baby Mia but what we saw - Pat and Cap especially - was very sweet
Negative:
the pacing. I am so sorry but I think they crammed too much into the episode. They either should have cut the exorcism storyline (as much as I loved it) or gone for a 60 minute special. There's just too much going on for 30 minutes, and too many time jumps (I wasn't a fan of them in the 2021 Christmas Special either) that sadly make the whole episode feel very rushed
and because it felt so rushed a lot of plots did not have the impact they were meant to have, at least not on me. Robin's feelings about Christmas for example.
also what was going on with Kitty and the baby at the beginning? Her being jealous is obviously not a new thing but the issue did not really get resolved, did it?
the latter also goes for Thomas's feelings for Alison which brings me to my biggest criticism of the whole show: he never got the character development he deserved (and, to an extent, neither did Fanny). The whole baby storyline would have been the perfect set up for him to move on from Alison (including discussions about different types of love and him realising that Alison does love him platonically and that that's enough) but it never happened. I feel like he was done dirty in that regard because every other character except him got to grow
I have probably missed a ton of moments - and I will rewatch the episode once I've rewatched series 5 - and likely repeated things here that others have said before. Since I had blocked all tags blocked when the Special aired I have no idea how the fandom's reaction to it was but if anyone still wants to talk about it, my asks are open.
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Rats, Ghouls and Trikes
This was a prompt given to me by @sister-nyx. and I may have written it in about two hours with a small dinner break and a melatonin dose in between said two hours. I haven't proof read this. But I hope you can look past that and enjoy a small snippet. -A very tired Cloud.
ps-It will be proofed. just not at the moment. Emphasis on the melatonin, sorry.
Update! It has been proofed =3
Includes: Fluff, but also there's hurt
WC: 1,047
Honestly, you would think they would stop trying to lecture him about where he chooses to ride within the corridors. It isn’t as if he was going to listen to them. Who do they think they are trying to get him to stop? Damnit, he is papa. He doesn’t have to listen to any of them! He just chooses to listen to the Imperator. That doesn’t mean he has to listen to even her! He thought huffily as he stood waiting for the Sister to leave the corridor before getting back atop his squeaky tricycle.
Carefully, he peddled forward. Occasionally looking behind him to make sure the witch hadn’t poked her head back in his direction. Soon he took off and began pedaling as fast as he could on his chosen vehicle.
Pillars soon seemed to blend into the gray marbled background of the monastery in his attempt to stop thinking, just for a little while. He didn’t often get to do this anymore. Not with all the paperwork that needed signing, or with him needing to help plan the next tour. He just wanted to leave everything behind for a small moment.
Riding around had always been a form of escapism for him. He remembered being a small child, back when he properly fit on his tricycle, how he would use it as a way to get away from his assigned nurses. All they wanted him to do was be still. Finish his Latin notes, to, “For Lucifers fucking sake! Stop using your left hand.” Followed by a whistle and a sharp pain in his hand.
They would usually leave him at that point. Let him lick his wounds. Before long, he would run for his little tricycle and pedal as far as he could to the opposite wing without being stopped. He got pretty fast too.
Disgruntled, Copia frowned. Reminiscing wasn’t what he needed right now. It certainly wasn’t what he wanted to be doing either. So, leaning forward he chose to go faster. Ahead he could see a fork in the hall. He was approaching quickly, closer, closer. He decided to drift to the best of his ability and chose the left hallway.
For one ecstatic second, the wind whipped through his hair, and his heart raced. Copia let out a whoop of joy, before his eyes widened and he realized his folly. He couldn't bring himself to utter a sound as he fell through the air towards the rapidly approaching floor. He had forgotten about the stairs, how foolish of him.
With nothing to do but brace himself, he closed his eyes, stealing his nerves for what was to occur next. But as the world went black and the only thing he could sense was the wind he so loved. Copia’s thoughts stopped on impact as he went unconscious.
Waking up felt… Wrong.
Waking up was annoying to do, but it didn’t feel like wading through mud. It shouldn’t feel fuzzy, like booting up an old computer, turning on in stages. Copia crinkled his eyebrows in an effort to concentrate before opening his eyes, only to squint as bright light stabbed his eyes.
Opening his eyes again, more prepared this time. He couldn’t help but groan as he took in his surroundings. Thin mattress, white sheet-walls, headache. Oh how lovely it is to be in the Med wing. To wake up to a glaringly pissed off Aether, what a day.
Grinning sheepishly, he timidly waved a hand to the ghoul; who huffed before saying, “You have a mild concussion Papa. You’re going to have to stay in your room for a few days before returning to your regular schedule. You also aren’t allowed your computer or TV during this time.”
Frowning, he made a noise of discontent before saying, “I take it the Imperator chose to confine me, eh?”
Aether looked annoyed before replying, “Yea, let's get you set up and comfortable.”
Pouting slightly, Copia cradled Biscuit to his chest and gently stroked his velvety coat to keep him distracted from the impending loneliness he was doomed to experience for the next few days. He smiled at his senior rat when he began to lightly nibble his fingertips before curling up to nap and decided to sleep as well.
Gently, he coaxed Biscuit from his hand and onto his bed. Before he also laid down and closed his eyes.
It didn’t take long for him to fall asleep. Soon the small room was filled with gentle snores and small grunts as Copia slept peacefully. Over the small snores, however, you could hear a distant shuffle, and it seemed to grow loader as time passed. What had once been a far off skittering, soon morphed into muffled grunts with the occasional exploitative.
Soon the large grate located in his room had a pair of dim, glowing eyes. Quietly, a small voice whispered behind the floating eyes, “Fucks sake Dew, is it the right vent? We’ve been in hear almost an hour.”
Squinting in annoyance he replied, “Yea, it’s the right one. Quiet though, he’s sleeping. Aether said to keep him company and let him rest, stop whinging Swiss.” Grasping the grill securely, he whispered back, “Grab my waist so I don't fall,” and steadily pushed until the metal gave in and the grate came off.
Grinning, Dew looked back to Swiss’ unimpressed face before he said, “You woke him up, dumbass.”
Wincing Dew turned around to see a smiling Copia before saying, “Hey, Aether sent us. Want some company? Oh! Is that Biscuit?”
Copia looked fondly at his two ghouls before replying, “Company would be nice, and yes. Biscuit wanted to come out and I didn’t have the heart to say no.”
Smirking lightly, the two ghouls jumped out of the air vent and went to lay by Copia’s side. Where they spent the evening talking. Occasionally they played with the different rats and ultimately the day ended with the rats put away, Swiss gently snoring and Copia nodding off.
Dew grinned at the other two, enjoying the fact that they seemed content and happy to fall asleep. As gentle breathing filled the room, he couldn’t help leaning into the Papa’s cool, compared to his own, warmth and sighed contentedly before falling asleep himself.
#the band ghost#ghost band#nameless ghouls#dewdrop ghoul#swiss ghoul#cardinal copia#my fics#Copia's rats
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would lilith be much of a book reader? What kind of books would she read?
right so i think that Lilith has the adhd reader thing where YES she loves to read, NO she doesn’t read. actually she’s always reading twelve books at the same time; no she never finishes any of them.
like any really really intelligent person Lilith is hungry for knowledge, and like any child raised under the press of a thumb she’s willing to get that knowledge wherever she can. her brain is working against her a little but it’s also a beautiful creature because it wants knowledge, but all of it all the time all at once.
i think she’s on wikipedia and in the NASA archives and on Project Gutenberg constantly. she will literally sit there on her phone for hours doing the fanfiction thing where she tricks her brain into thinking it’s not technically reading because there are no books involved.
she tab-hops like a madwoman but it’s a case of balancing her intense need for information with her brain’s unwillingness to tackle that information in a structured way. inside of ten minutes she’ll read a bit about the Riemann hypothesis, a couple paragraphs of a socratic dialogue, an archived forum page about siphoning gas with your mouth and what petroleum tastes like (keeps waking up with a weird sulfur taste in her mouth. keeps hoping to find some explanation other than ‘it tastes like devil in here’) but if you ask her what she reads she’ll scowl and say ‘nothing.’
but i mean this is the girl who used to sit with Beatrice for hours and just listen to her talk about Galileo and Langer's lines and how to debone a fish. who used to sit by the fire with her dad and listen to random bits of historical apocrypha and who requested Stephen Hawking’s A Brief History of Time as her bedtime story when she was three years old.
she definitely sits on her phone watching 6 hour videos about Dark Souls lore and she reads all the books in Skyrim because they’re like 300 words long and somehow staring at the TV and reading off there is easier than reading a physical book made of paper or reading on the kindle (even when Cam downloads dyslexia-friendly reading aids).
her brain likes to bounce off the walls but it wants to know things. so badly. i think audiobooks are good for her but she plays them at 2x speed so her brain has to kind of do cartwheels to keep up and it gives her the same feeling as listening to heavy metal while she goes and picks up heavy objects and puts them back down again in the gym.
i wrote about this a little before but the sound and texture and the saying of words is very appealing to Lilith. she loves the music of language so i think the only way she can read actual novels for any length of time is to read them aloud (as opposed to subvocating) because choosing where to put emphasis and just feeling the words in her body is enough to keep her suitably entertained (plus lilith post-canon is not a huge fan of silence. she spent a lot of time wandering around in the weird high-pressure hellscape of The Other Side looking for Mary and then Ava. so she treats Bea’s noise-cancelling headphones like they’re going to eat her and she enjoys white noise playlists and having music just playing in the background).
Lilith adores the puzzles that language can make. she actually loved poetry as a kid because it felt to her like she could memorise the poem and work it over in the horrible ‘no talking’ hours that her mother imposed. at night when she couldn’t sleep after her dad died she’d repeat the poems over and over and over again and slowly wring more meaning out of them with each repetition.
she likes when stories are puzzles and, incidentally, one of her favourite things to do is listen to an audiobook on 2x speed while doing sudoku or crosswords.
and Lilith will read anything. she’s not super into fantasy or sci-fi because she has fucking wings and scales and it’s a bit like ‘i’m in this picture and i don’t like it’ but she enjoys classics. has a weird soft spot for Moby Dick and she really likes post-apocalyptic books like The Road by Cormac McCarthy and Parable of the Sower and i think she quite enjoys The Hunger Games and the Wool series. she definitely loves The Broken Earth Trilogy because it somehow gets a free pass with her ‘i’m in this picture and i don’t like it’ hang-up. it does make her cry though (the hand scene really gets to her because sometimes her mother would hold her hand like that, like she wanted to smash it and see if it came back together without the dysgraphia).
but she also rlly likes plays because performance and by god Lilith is a drama queen. she would totally have been a theatre kid if she’d been allowed & she loves performing little monologues and she likes how people sound when they’re angry but in the context of a play because the anger is always under the control of the narrative, and you can stop being angry whenever you want.
she loves collecting information so when Cam introduces her to Stardew Valley she sits up in bed all night reading wiki after wiki and making little spreadsheets on her excel app for which gifts to give and when and how many of each crop to plant and which trees to grow and where and how many chickens and how much hay and all the different fish and how to organise the layout of the farm. so by the next day Cam wakes up and Lilith has basically a bachelor’s degree in Stardew Valley
and Cam is like ‘oh my god Lily i got you this game so you would relax!’ and Lilith frowning in genuine confusion like ‘i am relaxing??’
she does sometimes just teleport into Bea and Ava’s house & look quite forlorn until Beatrice sits down with her at the island in the kitchen and the pair of them peel oranges.
Beatrice talks about whatever she’s reading about that week, and eventually Ava comes in and explains all the different strategies for winning at Super Smash Bros and her opinions on the objective best tracks in Mario Kart while Beatrice cooks burgers on the grill outside in her baseball cap like somebody’s hot lesbian dad.
& then Lilith checks her phone & pecks Beatrice on the cheek and teleports home in time for Cam to get back from the airport. she tries to make out like she spent the whole weekend very sad and very by herself but Cam is like ‘gimmie your hands’ and then ‘yeah, Lil. i can smell the orange peel.’
so i think Lilith is a big reader but it’s not for the sake of stories especially or narratives or for characters or anything it’s for stimulation and knowledge and the words themselves. she’s that meme about the boyfriend who sits eating a sausage with the wikipedia page titled ‘sausage’ open on her computer. she ricochets between subjects and has the most incredible visual recall you’ve ever seen.
probably has a photographic memory but will forget what you asked her to go look for halfway up the stairs. Ava sees her sitting on her phone for literal hours while they’re all at the beach and asks Cam what the hell Lilith is doing because she’s not on social media & Cam is like ‘oh yeah she’s addicted to stack exchange and wikipedia’ and Ava takes a moment, licks melted ice-cream off her knuckle and says ‘wow that’s kind of hot’ and Cam waggles her eyebrows and goes ‘yeah, i know.’
#i'm normal about lilith can you tell?#warrior nun#sister lilith#shoutout to girls who want to know everything i see you#casper writes#ty for the ask!#camilith#aren't they adorable
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hey! first off, js wanna say that i LOVE your art and style, and having just binged chosen faces for the first time, I am. smitten.
and so I had to ask you this question- feel free to ignore it if it somehow has spoilers - but ik that you don't plan to cover s2 apart from short scenes that spark your interest, but do you think your aziraphale would've made the same... decision that he made in canon? towards the end?
also can he take metatron in a fight :D pls say yes :D
Oh man oh man, this one really made me think!
I don't think answering this is spoilers in any way, as we already know I'm following S1 canon (even if you don't know what changes to events I've yet to make).
So the question is whether or not Chosen Face!Aziraphale would have accepted the Metatron's offer, and tried to convince Crowley to join him and become an angel again.
Granted, as of now, we do not know the full story of why TV Aziraphale reacted the way he did. We didn't even get to truly see the conversation he had with the Metatron on the offer, only what he tells Crowley. And I don't trust him to be a reliable narrator. Let alone that we never see him say 'yes'. He just says 'I don't know what to say.'
There's a lot of really interesting theories about the new season and why characters act the way they do, but for the purpose of this ask I'm going to go with the assumption that everything we saw on screen is accurate, without anything happening in the background or death threats or spiked coffees to explain their actions.
And to this end, I'm going to bring up these past two responses to Q&As:
Because I started this comic pre-S2, I have their very first meeting being on the wall of Eden. CF!Aziraphale never met angel Crowley. He has no assumptions of how happy Crowley was prior to Falling.
TV!Aziraphale is complex and fallible, which is why I love him, but he also has shown that when faced with the ultimatum of running or facing the threat, he'd sacrifice his own happiness for what he felt was right (the bandstand). The end of S2E6 felt much the same to me in this. The Metatron is obviously manipulative, and Aziraphale has a lot more growing to do (as does Crowley, whose response was again to run off together), but at his core Aziraphale wants to do good. It's just whose definition of 'good' and to what end that he wibbles over.
Would CF!Aziraphale react the same? Well, kinda no, but also unfortunately yes. I'm so sorry.
I don't think the setup could have been the same. CF!Aziraphale doesn't harbor any notion of Heaven being purely good, and hasn't for a good while. But he does want to believe that God has a plan, and that if he can figure out that plan, he can win the game. By this I mean, Aziraphale's initial goals were to be on the "right/winning" side of the game, so he joined the angels as a tactical advantage. But as he grew to love earth and genuinely wanting to be kind, winning the game meant less of being a "victor", and more "If I figure out the game plan, I can subvert it if need be."
He doesn't know what the plan is. But he does think the Metatron would know. So an opportunity to infiltrate their ranks and be able to make real structural changes that wouldn't break reality? Yeah, I could see him taking it. And since giving Crowley the holy water, Aziraphale has trusted Crowley to keep himself safe even when he's not around.
howling screaming slashing at the walls
As for whether or not he'd still present the question to Crowley, I think he would (but without the implication of how nice it was back then). He'd present the option only because it is an option, and he wouldn't want to take away Crowley's ability to choose that fate for himself. After all, he chose to be an angel and found a home in that identity. He'd want to offer Crowley that same courtesy, if that's actually what he wanted.
He doesn't want to control Crowley and make decisions for him. And if Crowley's decision means they have to separate for a time until he can figure out The Plan? He'll be heartbroken but he'll accept it.
Okay but the real answer you're looking for: could CF!Aziraphale take on the Metatron and win?
YOU FUCKIN' BETCHA THAT FLOATING HEAD IS GOING DOWN
#Ran Writes#asks#anonymous#chosen faces au#good omens season 2#good omens spoilers#this has just been stewing in my head all morning I cannot rest#why are you like this aziraphale I adore you but what the FUCK#let alone that I just don't have the stamina to try to cover S2 in fully rendered comic pages like I'm doing for S1#I cannot handle the heartbreak 2.0 and CF is having a happy ending goddammit
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10 Fandoms, 10 Characters, 10 Tags
Thanks for the tag @tsarinatorment 🥰
Im not going to try to really put them in any order but...
Uchiha Shisui (Naruto)
We all been knew 🥴 to me, Shisui is just the perfect kind of character to play protagonist with, with enough badassery and charm to come out on top but with the sweetness and the last scraps of his idealism to soften his edges. Kishi, however, threw him down the toilet at the nearest opportunity (which was just so 🤌bullshit🤌 I'm almost - almost- impressed) because he realised he Gone Fucked Up making this amazingly powerful character with no hint of him in prior work so 🤡 canon is dead, Shisui lives forever
Finn (Star Wars movies)
Anyone who's had the misfortune to follow me or has browsed my AO3 bookmarks knows I'm a wreck for Commander Cody and for Obi-Wan but I'm not choosing either of them? How??? Because Finn... FINN, he was literally raised to be canon fodder but he had this deep rooted fear that what they were doing was wrong and he didn't shoot and he took that fear and he knew he had to run. So often we wanna be brave in those moments but in actual fact we just panic, which is what Finn did... And yet he was so brave too? He saved Poe, he fought viciously for Ray, he joined the Rebellion, he met these people for minutes at a time but had already impressed them on his soul, on who he was going to be (and he'd only had a name as of that day???). Finn should've been the protagonist of that trilogy, the sequels were just...well, and I'll die on this hill that Finn's force sensitivity reaalllly should've meant something 😩 I love so many SWs characters but Finn is really the one that got me to actually attempt my own Fics too!
Obi (Akagami no Shirayukihime/Snow White with the Red Hair)
Do I Have a type? .... Next question.
Obi is just ✨🤌 ✨ badass with a mysterious background? ✅ Loyal but sassy? ✅ Pining for the 'lady' he is sworn to protect?✅ Is also her partner in life and crime? ✅ Low self worth but flirtatious? ✅ Gorgeous but dangerous? ✅ .... ✨💕
Yor (Spy x Family)
She is literally the best mother oh my God just kiss your husband though (and maybe get some space from your brother-)
Fíli (The Hobbit)
I JUST-
🥺🥺🥺🥺🥺🥺🥺🥺 little golden lion prince, heir to his uncle, to a kingdom only told in stories of grandeur he's never seen and with all the hope and grief of his displaced and hurting people.... Mischievous but sensitive, funny (the hidden knives hehe), determined to do his family and people proud (cut down far too quickly, deserved better... Oh god I have a type-)
Boromir (The Lord of the Rings)
Why do I keep listing dead guys 😭 do I need to spell it out? Honor, desperation, valour, love of his people, he is high-key aroace rep, his resentment-to-love bromance with Aragorn that was ROBBED from us, I cannot tell if Merry and Pippin wanted to queerplatonic marry him or if they wanted him as their "getaway horse" for the rest of their lives but dammit 😭✨🤌
Evelyn Carnahan (The Mummy)
Do I need to even give reasons????? She's miles ahead of all those other scholar bitches, she's out there winning desert camel races, she's a reincarnated princess with daggers, she has the most gorgeous hair and eyeliner I swear to God, she is THE moment… For all time. She's a LIBRARIAN
Din Djarin (The Mandalorian)
*flips desk through solid concrete wall* HE'S THE PERFECT MAND'ALOR
PERFECT FATHER
COOLEST INTROVERT IN THE GALAXY
He is SOFT and SOFT-SPOKEN
He is STERN (except in face of baby's wet eyes) and LOYAL and he has an HONOR CODE DAMMIT STOP TAKING ADVANTAGE HIM
This doesn't count as a star wars pick, which I gave to Finn, because we are, as usual, swerving completely off canon (and this is a TV series, not the movies ha!) because you cannot convince me that Din, the wandering bamf who just wants to get credits for all the kids in his covert and provide for his home but cannot participate in the maiming of an 'alien' child so gets landed in so much shit, wouldn't be exactly what the Mandalorians need for a fucking Renaissance dammit 😤😤😤😤
Hawks (Boku no Hero Academia/ My Hero Academia)
*covers my face in shame* ffs it's so transparent lol
FINAL PICK - WILDCARD: Éowyn(The Lord of the Rings)
Ohhhhhhh and it's the Shieldmaiden of Rohan with the steel chair! The Witch King goes down, and he's not getting back up-! 3! 2! 1! And the crowd goes BALLISTIC!!!
I want to write a fic about her 😐 I want her to have a whole alter ego as one of the Rohirrim's best warriors 😳 I want her, seventeen and coltish, to down her first orc, standing in defense of another, and to know with absolute certainty that she wanted to protect everyone she could… 👁️👁️ yes I know I already did lotr but you're what??? Gonna stop HER???
Tagging @katlou303 @theraynealchemist @looks-like-starlight @zebrabaker @iamnotakitty @kazumirina @eruditeempress @ellorypurebloodculture @welpjesuisla @hidingfromthefeels and whoever else wants to have a go! 💕
#torship#torship talks#tag game#Tsarinatorment#Shisui#Obi#finn star wars#Mando#Din#Hawks bnha#Boromir#Fíli hobbit#eowyn#yor forger#Evelyn the mummy#Naruto#Bnha#Mhá#the mummy 1999#Lotr#The Hobbit#Star wars#Mandalorian
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Peer Group Project 18/04/24
Research Gathering and Mood board creation and choosing the Style for Animation piece and Drawing an Interpretation of the Storyboard
Research Gathering:
Me and My Group Gathered all our research from aesthetics ,background,props, character Design Research, technology. We printed and stuck up all our research on the wall with Masking tape. We gathered this information to get ideas on how to create our world in the story we made from informed research to know what are world would look like realistically and so we would have all the Research in One place .We did by looking at images Online and in books to get references to what the story could look like
My Research On Location:Desert
Rest of the Groups Research:
Mood board Creation :
One of the people in my group made a mood board on digital programme. this was created to use as a reference for the colour palette for our future Animated piece.
Moodboard created by other member of Group:
Choosing an Animation Style:
We individually researched an Animation Style we liked and voted which style we liked the most to use for our story. We did this so we could decide on which to use an animation style appropriate to the story. We decided as a group TV show invincible animation style .
My Research on Aesthetics: Animation Style:
Aesthetic: Animation Style
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Begin Again
Pansy Parkinson x Neville Longbottom (background Theodore Nott x Luna Lovegood)
youtube
Warnings: Nothing? Please let me know if there is. Not proof read 😊
Category: Fluff, One-Shot, Flashfic, Songfic
Summary: In which Pansy watches love begin again.
No sneak peaks 😋
Author’s Note: I first saw Panville in the tags when I was posting my Pansy mood board and found the ship really cute.
Word Count: 829
To The Library (my masterlist)
To The Kitchen (my WIPs)
To more Pansy Parkinson fics
To more Neville Longbottom fics
To Red TV Anthology
Pansy takes a deep breath in the mirror. Indecisive about which shoes completes her outfit. ‘He didn't like it when I wore high heels. But I do.’ She slips into her go-to black stilettos gifted to her by Tracey. It’s been in her closet since he put them there.
She applies a layer of lipgloss and grabs her keys. This would be her first date after him. Pansy cannot believe she let Nott’s girlfriend talk her into a blind date. Her hand hovers over the front door’s handle. She walks back to the wall mirror and styles her fringe once more before leaving her apartment.
She turns the lock and puts her headphones on. ‘He always said he didn't get this song. But I do.’
She always loved it this time of year. The leaves crunching beneath her feet. Cold breeze making her regret not choosing a thicker cardigan. Lovegood informed Pansy that her blind date chose a cafe nearby. Convenient if it goes wrong and Pansy wants to go home quick.
She walks in expecting he’d be late but he’s here early and he stands and waves. Pansy stands shocked to see one Neville Longbottom.
She walks to him.
“Hi. This is for you.” Neville hands her a plant pot.
She takes the gift and thanks him.
“It’s a young ho-“
“Honeysuckle.” She smiles. “It’s my favourite.”
Her grandmother used to grow them in their family garden and the sweet aroma filled the backyard with a sweet scent every summer. She would spend her holidays there tending to the flora.
She puts the gift on the table to the side.
“I know. You mentioned it in Herbology a couple times.”
How sweet of Neville to have listened and remembered. She recalls dropping the hint many times to her ex so that he would stop gifting her pansies, which he assumed were her favourite. She used to loathe that she was named after the favourite flower of the mother that abandoned her family for a muggle but she’s long gotten past that fact and have accepted her name.
Neville pulls her chair out and helps her in. ‘He doesn’t know how nice that is. But I do.’
The date started with the niceties; the ‘What have you been up to’. They even forgot to order anything until Neville noticed Pansy eyeing the cake on the table next to them. He asks her what she would like and insists on being the one to order and pay.
She sits and stares after him. All these years Pansy has never thought she’d come across classmates that weren’t in her Slytherin circle, never mind Neville. It’s nice. It’s more than nice. She’ll have to thank Lovegood for setting it all up.
Neville returns with a tray and sets her drink in front of her along with a teaspoon and a fork on a napkin. He places a plate with 2 different pieces of cake down in the middle.
“Before you say anything, I know you didn’t ask for it but this place is famous for its desserts. It’s the reason I chose this place. That one has cream cheese frosting.” He says pointing at the slice of blueberry cake.
“I love a good frosting. Thank you.” And they both dig in.
‘He’s a sharer.’ She finds it a refreshing change to what she’s used to. They talk about everything and anything. Pansy is reserved until they speak about music.
“I have never met one witch who had as many Madame Bletchley records as me.” Neville chuckles as he takes a bite out of their shared dessert.
“But I do! I made everyone I knew enter that contest the Daily prophet ran in sixth year. I even sent an owl to my Grandma to enter as well.”
“Me too! I was so gutted when I didn’t win. My Nana sent me my records and the boys were sick of her by the end of the spring term.”
“Aww your Nana sounds lovely.” She brushes her hair away from her face and stirs her beverage.
“You seem a lot more shy than you were back in the day.”
Pansy takes a sip of her hot chocolate. He gestures at the foam at her upper lip and there’s a moment of silent before she replies.
“I’m sorry about what I said and did at school.” Before she could recollect her darker years Neville interrupts.
“Yeah you were pretty scary. But what’s past is past.”
His hand touches hers and it gives her some courage.
“I actually thought you were cute back then.” She confesses.
Neville’s eyebrows rises up and he gives her a toothy grin.
“And I thought you were pretty.”
Their eyes meet and linger there for more than a moment. Pansy was too busy spending the last eight months wallowing; thinking all love ever does is break and burn, and end.
But on a Wednesday in a cafe, she watches it begin again.
#avalynlestrangewrites#neville longbottom x pansy parkinson#pansy x neville#neville x pansy#pansy parkinson x neville longbottom#panville#based on a taylor swift song#red taylor’s version#begin again#rare pair#Neville longbottom#pansy Parkinson#rare ship#theodore nott x luna lovegood#Theodore nott#luna lovegood#Pansy Parkinson fluff#Neville longbottom fluff#wizarding world fandom
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Tag Game Tuesday Wednesday Thursday FRIDAY!!!
Thank you for the tags you lovely humans <3 macy @celestialmickey evie @energievie jay @surviving-maybe nosho @creepkinginc harvey @mikhailoisbaby ajax @transmickey lyds @ardent-fox and deena @suzy-queued <3 <3
name: molly :D
age: 24
favorite season: SPRING
movies or tv shows? oooh both and neither hahaha it REALLY depends on my mood but i will choose tv shows if i have to
do you carry a bag/purse? what kind? i have a trusty backpack always, i have to carry recipe books and shit
what color is your water bottle? it's a clear plastic one
what color is your phone case? black, just matte black
do you sleep in silence or do you need white noise/sounds/music? sometimes i listen to things to get sleepy but i need mostly silence to actually sleep
top sheets: yes or no? NOPE NEVER
you’re in the candy aisle at the corner store, what are you grabbing? oooh probably a little chocolate bar bc the lollies i like come in bigger packets and i want something smaller
preferred mode of travel (plane/train/car/bus/on foot/etc?): i dont care, whatever is easiest for the situation
what’s your phone background right now? my lock screen is my cat and my home screen is,,,,,nathan young from misfits bc i havent changed it in 5 years
are you more of a minimalist or a maximalist? Maximalist 100%, i like THINGS and owning PHYSICAL THINGS
it’s time to paint your bedroom! what color are you choosing? Probably white, i painted a wall bright green as a teenager and it's turned me off coloured walls lmaooo but white so i can put colourful things on it
and finally, tell me something that brings you joy: my patisserie course, im learning so many new things and techniques and it's awesome especially coming out of 5 years of studying graphic design and just the burnout i experienced from that
i feel like everyone and their mothers have done this already so im just going to tag a bunch of people just to say hi and hello how are you: @gnallavich @ian-galagher @mishervellous @twinklyylights @look-i-love-u @imikhailotakeyouian @iansw0rld @metalheadmickey @gardenerian @lingy910y @phansterdam @iero @callivich @tellmegoodbye
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Hello Eden (is it okay to call you that?)
Do you have any current favourite songs? What kind of music do you generally listen to?
And do you have any favourite books? What kind of books do you like to read?
If you are okay with sharing, no pressure.
Sending you love and strength ❤️
Ah!!! Thanks for this ask @sunnenfinster! What a lovely change of pace.
Eden is fine!!!!!
Ok, so I love music and books!
Of all broad genres of entertainment media, music is probably what I follow least closely. It’s not that I don’t like it; I just am always behind the curve in my tastes. I love listening to most confessional singer/songwriters. I love folk, rock, pop, and rap. I also get a lot of music I like from the background of media like TV, Movies, and podcasts. In general, I love confessional singer-songwriters from any genre.
Fave singers (and the albums I’d recommend from them: songs I’d recommend from that album [notes]):
Jem (Finally Woken: Come on Closer, Falling for You, Just a Ride). All songs on this album rock, to me.
Sheryl Crow (Sheryl Crow: A Change Would Do You Good, [about choosing love over anger and stopping gun violence], Redemption Day [about the Bosnian war], Maybe Angels [could be about aliens or being in a cult idk but it’s a good song about misplaced belief] I love every song on this album tbh. Wall-to-wall bangers.
Missy Elliot (Under Construction: Gossip Folks, Work it)
Suzanne Vega (99.9 F: 99.9 F, Blood Makes Noise, Rock in the Pocket, When Heroes Go Down)
Artists and songs I like in general: Aimee Mann (her voice is like butter and I could listen to her sing forever); Eliza Rickman: Pretty Little Head; Sims: Icarus; Dessa: Call Off Your Ghost; Sifu Hotman: Matches (I know no other songs by this artist but I LOVE this one so much. I’m gonna go listen to it right now); Lorde: Yellow Flicker Beat; Björk: Human Behavior; G Flip: Hyperfine, Gay 4 Me, Killing My Time; Aimee Mann: That’s Just What You Are [I love Aimee’s voice and could listen to her sing the phone book. All songs off her Magnolia Album are amazing too]
And gosh. So many more…
As for books!!!! OMG! I love books so much. I love so many different kinds of books. Some fave genres include: Classic Lit, Magical Realism, Sci-fi/Fantasy/Speculative Fiction; Engaging YA Series, Historical Fiction; Culinary History and Analysis; and Mythological Retellings
Classic Lit Faves:
“To The Lighthouse” by Virginia Woolf [This contains my fave quote in all of literature. This could also never be adequately adapted into a movie. It’s a fascinating look into how people think and how we all process internal thoughts. Must be comfortable with long sentences, semicolons, and allowing sentence clauses to wash over you like ocean waves in order to enjoy this book]
“Cider with Rosie” by Laurie Lee
“All Quiet on the Western Front” by Erich Maria Remarque
“The Portable Dorothy Parker” by Dorothy Parker
“The Odyssey” by Homer, translated by Emily Wilson
“The Iliad” by Homer — both Emily Wilson’s Translation and Stanley Lombardo’s Translation
Magical Realism
“The House of the Spirits” by Isabelle Allende
“Aunt Julia and the Scriptwriter” by Mario Vargas Llosa
“Bless Me Última” by Rudolfo Anaya
“Like Water for Chocolate” by Laura Esquivel
SFF Faves:
“An Absolutely Remarkable Thing” and “A Beautifully Foolish Endeavor” by Hank Green
“The Martian” by Andy Weir
The Tiffany Aching line of the Discworld Series by Terry Pratchett (“The Wee Free Men,” “I Shall Wear Midnight,” “A Hat Full of Sky,” and “Wintersmith”)
“The Locked Tomb” Series by Tamsyn Muir (“Gideon the Ninth,” “Harrow the Ninth,” “Nona the Ninth” so far)
Engaging YA
“The Hunger Games” Trilogy by Suzanne Collins
“Grishaverse” Series by Leigh Bardugo
“Shadow and Bone Triogy” (related to the Grishaverse) by Leigh Bardugo [note: I didn’t know until making this list that Leigh Bardugo is an Israeli Jew! Very cool]
Historical Fiction:
“Fried Green Tomatoes at the Whistlestop Cafe” by Fannie Flagg [the associated cookbook is very good. Also, you’ll never eat ribs the same again]
“Tracks” by Louise Erdrich [one of the most interestingly written books I’ve ever read. Has two dueling narrators. This is part of a series of books but can be read as a standalone]
Culinary Analysis History
Bree Wilson’s books (“First Bite: How We Learn to Eat,” “Consider the Fork,” and “The Way We Eat Now,” specifically) are some of the best out there. [I didn’t realize until a couple weeks ago that Bee Wilson and the classicist translator Emily Wilson are sisters! They are both extremely smart, engaging writers.]
“Omnivore’s Dilemma” by Michael Pollan
“An Edible History of Humanity” by Tom Standage
“Food: A Cultural Culinary History” by Ken Albala (this one is a Great Courses course, so not technically a book. But it’s available most places you can get audiobooks. And it’s what got me fascinated with this subject)
Mythological Retellings
“Circe” and “The Song of Achilles by Madeline Miller
“The Silence of the Girls” and “The Women of Troy” by Pat Barker [TW Rape]
“Norse Mythology” by Neil Gaiman
Genre Defy-ers
(These are some of my All Time Faves that can’t really be confined to any genre)
The “Outlander” Series by Diana Gabaldon [and the related “Lord John” Series by the same author] (TW: for Rape)
“The Anthropocene Reviewed” by John Green
Just Finished Reading
“Breakfast at Tiffany’s” by Truman Capote (Wow it was so good. I haven’t seen the movie in a while but I seriously doubt they adapted it faithfully. It was so surprising!!!)
Currently Reading
“Murder on the Orient Express” by Agatha Christie
Selections From My To Be Read List
“The City of Brass” by S.A. Chakraborty
“Lessons in Chemistry” by Bonnie Garmus
“The Source” by James Michener
“The Secret of Cooking” by Bee Wilson
“Equal Rites” by Terry Pratchett
“A Time Traveler’s Guide to Medieval England” by Ian Mortimer
“What You Are Looking For Is In The Library” by Michiko Aoyama
“The Doomsday Book” by Connie Willis
I also love to read cookbooks from various cultures to gain insight into those cultures in a very tactile way.
Sending you love and gratitude! 💜💜💜💜
I’m always down to discuss books!
#about me#books#lit#book Recs#culinary history#historical fiction#YA#Classic Lit#Queer Lit#book worm#reading#reader#mythological Retellings#ask me stuff
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Helluva hotel fanfic(what do you think I take constructive critisims)
Chapter 1:closing
Blitzo picks up the horse standee covered in gems that he had bought a while back and placed it atop a box with other things. Papers filled to the brim with really nothing of importance, mainly random horse drawings and the “research” he managed to recollect after it flew out the window. Millie.moxxie. And Stolas also helped him pack.
”Are you sure you want to give up on this?” Stolas asked. Moxie and Millie looked at blitz with sadness and grief in their eyes. While they hadn't been successful blitz had made a name for himself. They still lived in the low-class. Millie had to lie to her parents about how well freelance was going but nonetheless they enjoyed the adventures they had.
“I really appreciate you all helping, as much as I kid around about you being my family here, I mean it. I mean you all are the closest thing to a family I have so I really hope we all stay in touch. I also want to thank you Stolas especially since you don't really work at IMP unless you count supplying access” Blitz responds.
With happy tears in his eyes as Stolas gives a slight smile the 666 news channel comes on the tv with Charlie and Lucifer replacing the spaces and pushing away Katie killjoy and tom trench as they yell at them.
Charlie whispers a quick “sorry” before looking back at her dad. Lucifer begins hitting a stack of papers against the table while squinting through his glasses, mumbling trying to make out his chicken-scratch handwriting.
Charlie rips the papers out of his hand and throws them back. “ Me and my father have been talking and he originally wanted to force everyone-” Charlie says with a hint of anger and attitude.
Lucifer cuts her off and says “ But we decided that we won't force anyone, although I offered to do it as a form of punishment-”
“ Because we can't force people to redeem themselves they have to choose to and the hotel is to help not punish people, although he did pitch it to me like a parole office or being sentenced to rehab like on earth sense we don't have jail in hell”. Charlie looks at her father knowing he's probably about to cut her off again mainly because he gets too excited and blurts stuff out but he notices the look and keeps quiet while looking at his daughter. “ Anyway we’re getting off track. The main point is that white we are not forcing anyone to come, we highly encourage everyone to give redemption a shot and try to better themselves”.
“Isn't this basically free therapy?” Tom asked from the background right before the broadcast closed.
“Dang it, they're probably the reason we had to close, also why'd that woman sound so much like me?” Blitz asked.
Moxie replied “ Why are you blaming the business’s downfall on the princess again?”
“Because with all the sinners going there I bet no one cares about getting revenge on those who wronged them in the living world, they're too busy worrying about getting he redeemed” Blitz says in his usual all-caps screaming tone.
Stolas pointed a finger up and responded “ Uhmm I actually think her business isn't doing much better than yours although I don't think they actually charge people to stay there so if they're not even trying to profit I’m not sure if it’s still considered a business, it's been quite the topic of discussion recently”.
Blitz trying to find something to pin the blame of the businesses downfall on says “ I don't believe it! I sure they had something to do with us closing, were gonna go there and find out for ourselves”
“If that’s what you want, boss, we'd be happy to come along” Millie says.
“Millie can I talk to you for a moment, ya know in private” Moxie responds. Moxie and Millie head out to right outside the door. Blitz was listening in head against the wall, usually moxie would check but today everything was too hectic to do so.
“ We’re finally able to get away from Blitz, we can finally be alone. I think if we do this one thing with him we'd be stuck with him forever. Him constantly trying to get in on what we're doing” he told Millie. Blitz pupils became almost nothing in his eyes as they shrunk from listening in to what Moxxie had said.
“I love you Mox but, do you remember when we first met? The only thing you could think to talk about was yer best friend, blitz. I honestly thought you and him might have had something going on at first” Millie responded.
“I love you so much too Millie , you're what's important. I only thought he was meaningful in my life because I met him when I was in a tough spot but now that I know you I can see that he's not really of anything of importance” Moxie responded. Moxie then went back into the room with the rest of them. Millie although still seeming not Completely satisfied with the result of their conversation entered with him. Blitz backed away from the door right before they came through and continued packing up as though he heard nothing. Blitz pretended to be fine as he always did. Stolas couldn't hear what was going on I the other room however he could tell blitz wasn't taking it lightly. He wanted to comfort blitz but wasn't sure how especially after all that's happened. He nervously put his hand over blitz's hand trying to console him.
Blitz looked up at stolas smiling “ do you maybe want a hug?” stolas asked.
Blitz looked at his face and was riddled With guilt he immediately teared his hand away and held both of his own hands together nervously “ sorry I…”. Stolas interrupts “ no, no sorry I overstepped…again”. Blitz wanted to say something like “it's okay” but he wasn't sure the exact words. He couldn't hand the guilt. Him and stolas hadn't even talked after what happened. He didn't even know how stolas knew about them closing. He felt bad that even though he had gotten him hurt and then ghosted him he still showed up to help with such a simple task. Moxxie and millie saw them but didn't assume what was going om had anything to do with they Were talking about just another day them.
“Do you still want to go check out the hotel blitz?” Stolas asked.
“YEPPPP” blitz responds sounding super exited to cover up their previous conversation.
Millie with slight anger in her voice Said “I'm going with blitz and stolas you can come if you want moxxie”. Moxxie looks co fused with the sudden attitude but follows anyway
#hazbin hotel#helluva boss#fanfiction#fanfic#blitz angst#blitz#stolitz#millie x moxxie#moxxie x millie#IMP#angst#imp closing#post-western energy#research#papers#moving#packing up#door#fight#lucifer#Charlie#tom trench#katie killjoy#stolas#moxxie#millie#brandon rogers#666 news#chapter 1#in progress
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tag game WEDNESDAY ☀️
thanks macy for more Q&A! and thanks for tagging me @celestialmickey @energievie @creepkinginc 💗
name: deanna 🌿
age: Noel👏Aged👏
favorite season: 🍁FALL🍁
movies or tv shows? tv shows 📺
do you carry a bag/purse? what kind? i have a couple different things depending on how much im going to need to hold the stuff. backpack for holding, big mom handbag for when its just gonna sit somewhere, and wallet+carabiner+keys for when i mercifully dont need shit except my keys and a credit card.
what color is your water bottle? green with leaves on it 🌿
what color is your phone case? ...also green with leaves on it 🌿
do you sleep in silence or do you need white noise/sounds/music? cannot sleep without brown noise which is white noise but a lower pitch which i just find more soothing!
top sheets: yes or no? absolutely no fuck off 🚫
you’re in the candy aisle at the corner store, what are you grabbing? andes mints!!🍃🍫
preferred mode of travel (plane/train/car/bus/on foot/etc?): i yearn for the days of being able to walk or take the train absolutely everywhere.
what’s your phone background right now? lock screen is my kids in front of the big blue waterfall at pirate golf and my home screen is, as always, @kariniarts's portrait of my lavellan.
are you more of a minimalist or a maximalist? i used to fancy myself a minimalist until my therapist told me i should put pictures of things and people i loved all over my walls to feel less sad about being at home all the time and heck she was so right. 🖼️🖼️🖼️
it’s time to paint your bedroom! what color are you choosing? mint green!!
and finally, tell me something that brings you joy: morning coffee☕️
hey little nuggets, do you wanna play? @michellemisfit @mmmichyyy @mishervellous @themarchg1rl @metalheadmickey @maizzycakes @milkmaidovich @heymrspatel @harrowhark-a-vagrant @too-schoolforcool @tanktopgallavich @transmickey @grossmickey @scurvgirl @gardenerian @sickness-health-all-that-shit @crossmydna @rereadanon @grumble-fish @juliakayyy @sleepyfacetoughguy @canticle-of-apotheosis @callivich @sirrudo @mickeysgaymom @lingy910y @lizelandre @gallawitchxx @ardent-fox @thepupperino @vintagelacerosette @mikhailoisbaby @sisitrip and anyone else who wants to playyyy 💖
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20 questions for fic writers!
Thanks for the tag @acnelli (x), @schmem14 (x), and @indigo-scarf (x)!
1. How many works do you have on AO3?
I just reached exactly 100 works! Low-key so happy that my Pansmione soulmates fic was #100.
2. What’s your total AO3 word count?
301,754!! I am actually shocked by how high this is.
3. What fandoms do you write for?
Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling (97)
First Kill (TV 2022) (1)
방탄소년단 | Bangtan Boys | BTS (1)
Wednesday (TV 2022) (1)
4. What are your top 5 fics by kudos?
What is this, fucking Jeopardy? [Drarry, E, 20.4k]
White, the colour of flowers [Drarry, M, 3.2k]
A Heart So Colourful ♡ [Viktor/Ron, E, 1.5k]
Impervius, Not [Drarry, T, 5.0k]
7 Days of Halloween: I Don't Feel Like Myself Anymore [Wolfstar, E, 29.7k]
5. Do you respond to comments? Why or why not?
Oh heck yeah! I love getting and responding to comments. I've met some wonderful people in the comments section of fics.
6. What is the fic you wrote with the angstiest ending?
Your Cigarette Smell [Sirius/Narcissa, E, 9.7k] with canon-compliant character death, so I think you know where this is going.
7. What’s the fic you wrote with the happiest ending?
Any of my fluffy fics? Maybe Lavmione in Lavender for Morning or Nottpott in Silver Surprise.
8. Do you get hate on fics?
Not yet (*crosses fingers*). I've had some mildly annoying comments (like saying how they disliked background Dramione in a Drarry fic I wrote), but nothing to make me wanna bash my head against the wall.
9. Do you write smut? If so, what kind?
Umm... yes. I am currently in the middle of posting the smuttiest, most depraved series I have ever written for this year's Kinktober.... so check it out ig?
10. Do you write crossovers? What’s the craziest one you’ve written?
Not so much crossovers but heavily inspired by other stories. I wrote Dronarry in a Sandman AU and also Hermione/Daphne in a Twilight AU 😂
11. Have you ever had a fic stolen?
Not that I know of...
12. Have you ever had a fic translated?
Yes! My Nottpott fic was translated into Russian. How cool is that??
13. Have you ever co-written a fic before?
I have done art collabs but never co-written a fic. Definitely something I'd love to try. Maybe it'll happen next year!
14. What’s your all time favourite ship?
Idk there's too many to choose!! I probably read Drarry the most, but I think that's mostly because there's just SO MANY amazing Drarry authors. I can honestly be convinced to like any ship if I like the writing style and the story. I'm a huge rare pair and femslash shipper!!! The communities are just so wonderful 💖
15. What’s a WIP you want to finish but doubt you ever will?
Never say never! But I'm really lacking motivation to finish my Squid Games AU Drarry fic. I love the concept, but the plot is just not flowing.
16. What are your writing strengths?
Emotion. I like my fics to pack a punch. I think I'm getting pretty good at it.
17. What are your writing weaknesses?
Longfic. It's hard for me to sustain motivation for one idea. I have too many running through my brain at once, and I always get distracted by the shiny new headcanon.
18. Thoughts on writing dialogue in another language in fic?
I've seen it. I've done it. I'm ambivalent, mostly. I think it can be a great way to show cultural differences between characters. But I also think 90% of the time it unnecessarily confuses the reader because if you don't know the language, you're just going to skip over the dialogue. And if you do know the language, then you'll notice if it doesn't sound natural. Yeah... not a fan when it's just google translated and copy-pasted.
19. First fandom you wrote for?
Harry Potter!
20. Favourite fic you’ve written?
Anything on my Author's Favorites list! From recently though, maybe my Perciver strip chess fic 😉
Tagging (no pressure): @crazybutgood, @anaxandria-writes, @sugareey-makes-stuff, @givereadersahug, @orange-peony
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