#feel free to shoot a number to my inbox!
Note
Hey! I just wanted to let you know that somebody has posted your comic sans comic on reddit in the Undertale subreddit as well as the general comic subreddit. They’ve credited you in the comments and everything, but I just wanted to give you a heads up in case they didn’t ask you first/if you’re not cool with it.
... Huh. Thank you for letting me know- I don't use Reddit, so I had no idea :')!!
They didn't ask, and I'm not a fan of reposting, but I do appreciate the credit (and the fact that they have been correcting people on That One Panel)
Honestly, I'm not sure how to feel about this!! On one hand I'm flattered that it was... "cool" enough to get shared to another site, but on the other hand I'm a little miffed that it was reposted in the first place?
I... is there even anything I can do here?? What is Reddit etiquette? I know reposting is pretty common there, and I'm not really inclined to report them or ask them to take it down if that's part of the post economy/ecosystem, you know?
Thank you again for letting me know, but I uh. have no idea what to do about this!
#they also linked my ao3 😭 i appreciate it but also. MY AO3......#is there even anything i can do in this situation?? ik with other sites it's best to report them but idk what reddit etiquette is like#idk i have mixed feelings on this#im... egh. i dont want people. reposting my stuff in general#but it is kinda funny to see the reddit comments in a way that doesnt directly impact me i guess?#if anyone has any advice feel free to shoot?????? like. i dont know if i *should* care about this specific occurrence of reposting lol#the ideal situation is that Guardian_Eatos67 simply sends me every single reddit comment on either post#(JOKING) if you see this please don't do that#oh my god i jsut looked at the numbers on reddit thats so scary#can i just. drop in with my reddit account lol??#like hi. im the original creator. thank u for comments I've finally made it as an artist im being reposted to other sites#'come read my creators commentary.'#'and commission me'#LOL#velwy.txt#inbox#anon#WAIT IS THIS WHY I GOT A RANDOM INFLUX OF FOLLOWERS OUT OF NOWHERE??
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ALTERNATE JUNE-IVERSE 2024
You read that correct, little astronauts!
𝐈𝐧𝐭𝐨 𝐚𝐧 𝐀𝐥𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐧𝐚𝐭𝐞 𝐉𝐮𝐧𝐞-𝐢𝐯𝐞𝐫𝐬𝐞 is back for 𝐑𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐝 𝟐 in 2024!
Things are operating very similar to the first round, but please click the Read More below to refresh yourself on the way this event runs.
RULES
Be sure to check out the blanket event rules found HERE.
Due to the nature of all media and works within this event, it is only for those that are 18 and older – upon signing up you acknowledge that you are not a minor.
Any kind of hate (kink bashing/shaming, harassment, toxic behaviour, etc.) will not be tolerated at any point. There will be no warnings given and if proven to have exhibited any disagreeable behaviours, you will be removed from the event.
Tag your works accordingly. We expect explicit works, and that will contain squicks, triggers, etc. We believe in Kinktomato here. YKINMKATOK (Your Kink Is Not My Kink (And That’s OK) but you are responsible for advising our readers what to expect.
This event, as always, is open to any and all pairings that involve our favourite murder muffin!
If you’re finding that inspiration isn’t coming to you with just Bucky, we will also allow up to two squares per card to feature a different Sebastian Stan persona (Sebastian himself, Steve Kemp, Max Burnett, etc.)
The AU’s are entirely up to your interpretation, so long as they are featured prominently in your creation.
Read our FAQs thoroughly for event conduct, swapping prompts, schedule and more!
FAQs
What is a Connect Four event?
Simple! It’s very similar to a Bingo Event, where you will receive a card with four categories.
What happens if we finish our card?
You can request additional cards! Please only request a new card once you have finished your current card. If you are not happy with the prompts on your card, please request a swap for that square/those squares. You can request one swap per card, up to four squares (yes, you can ask for a whole new card).
If there's a square you don't vibe with, please use our Square Swap Form to begin the process of either requesting up to 2 new squares, or an entirely new card. The email must include your username, card number and the square + prompt you are purging from your card.
Can we use a fill for another event as well (ie. another bingo, etc)?
Absolutely! So long as the other event allows it, we have no rules against cross-posting.
How do I post to the AO3 collection?
Under collections (when posting), type in Connect 4: Into an Alternate June-iverse or Connect4AU
You can also add your work directly from the collection by going to https://archiveofourown.org/collections/Connect4AURound2 and selecting “post to collection” on the top right.
What fills are accepted?
Any creative media is accepted:
Fics
Moodboards
Digital / traditional art (sketches, too)!
Playlists
Etc.
If there is a medium not listed that you want to create and you’re not sure about, shoot us an ask and we will add it to the list!
All work must be newly uploaded to count towards the fill (no entering a fic you published a few months ago, for example). They may count towards already existing AU’s that you write for (a new chapter for an ongoing fic), or they can be something brand new – it is entirely up to you.
ALL ENTRIES MUST BE YOUR OWN WORK.
What pairings are allowed?
Any. Whether that be /Reader, /Steve, /Reader/Steve, /Natasha, /Clint – so long as Bucky is still the main character.
Is there a limit to submissions?
Absolutely not. You are free to create as many works / pieces of media that you feel inspired for – whether that be 5 fics for a Mafia AU square, or 10. It does not matter.
Schedule:
19th of January – Signups open
WHENEVER you receive your card, you can begin posting
1st of June – Submissions close
You can sign up to this event from the 19th of January right through until the end – keep in mind that we are aiming for cards to be in your inbox within 3 days of you signing the form – though we are only human, there may be delays.
If you have concerns or if it takes longer than 5 days, please email us or tag rookthorne / buckyismybicycle on the discord server, and we will check the progress.
#bucky barnes event#BBE#bucky barnes#bucky barnes fandom#bucky barnes fanart#bucky barnes fanfiction#marvel event#event page
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Hey girl! okay let me fill your inbox hehehe….🤭 Can I please get me some Juicy boy with Prompt 9 and 12 please? Thank you!
9. Will you let me take you out?
12. Do you want to come in?
Hey sweetie!!!!!! Lol look at you just sliding in the inbox :). Of course you can have my our lovely sweet Juice!!! Gah! That smile of his, this gif is going to have me so distracted lol!
Enjoy! Feel free to come back for more!
Date?
"Dude. Just ask her out already" stated Jax as he watched Juice send another drink to the pretty girl sitting at the bar. "I don't want to bother her. She looks busy" replied Juice as his cheeks warmed. "Are you telling me that you dragged us all here again to pussy out now that she has finally showed up?" demanded Tig shooting Juice a glare. "Just go talk to her Juicey. Flash that smile and you will be good" offered Chibs as he patted the young mans shoulder. "I don't know" murmured Juice as he snuck another glance at the girl. "Juice if you don't get your ass over there I will make the biggest scene of hitting on her you have ever seen!" threatened Tig as he stood up and started moving away from the table. "Alright! Don't need to be dramatic" stated Juice as he pushed Tig back to the table.
You were busy texting when you heard a cough behind you. Turning your eyes landed on the most handsome man you had ever seen in this bar. "Mind if I sit here" he asked his voice smooth as honey as he nodded to the empty stool. "Not at all" you replied shooting him a warm smile. "I'm Juice by the way." offered the man as he fidgeted with the beer in his hand. "Interesting name. I'm Y/N." you replied as you sipped one of the many free drinks you had accumulated tonight. "That's a pretty name" replied Juice kicking himself for being so nervous and awkward. He was getting ready to bolt when you placed a hand on his bouncing leg making him look at you. "So tell me about yourself" you suggested.
****
Hours later Juice was walking you to your car. "Umm, would you let me take you out. Like on a date no take you out take you out" asked Juice rambling nervously. Laughing you nodded. "I think we can arrange that" you replied as you handed him your phone to put his number in.
Two days later
Juice was walking you to your door after a date at the local arcade where he had won you a stuffed bear. Then the two of you had gotten pizza and ate watching the sunset." I had a lot of fun tonight Juice" you stated as you got top your door turning to smile at him. "I did too. Your really fun " replied Juice as he shifted nervously from leg to leg. Leaning up you kissed him quickly on the lips before biting your lip. "Do you want to come in? Get a head start on date number two?" you asked as the two of you locked eyes. Juice couldn't speak but nodded quickly making you laugh as you opened the door.
Want more Juice? Click here
Want to see how to make a request? Click here
#sons of anarchy#ravennasmasterlist#juice ortiz#soa fanfiction#soa fanfic#ravennasrequest#juan juice ortiz x reader#imagine juice#juice fanfic#juice fanfiction#juice ortiz fanfic#juice ortiz fanfiction#juice ortiz imagine#juice ortiz x reader#juice ortiz x y/n
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⇆ read through this post in its entirety to gain an understanding of my interaction rules and boundaries surrounding interacting. i will know if you have not read this, so please like after reading ↓
〖 𖤐 〗 GUIDANCE FOR MINORS
¹you may : ¹¹interact with me, interact with my works, interact with my blog, ¹²ask to become mutuals, give me friendly nicknames; i.e. pookie / pooks, bro, man, dude (ask through my inbox if you are unsure of other nicknames not mentioned here & i will happily reply to it in private; this will be updated with nicknames you can say when i do receive questions)
⁶you may not : ²flirt with me romantically or platonically or sexually, ask about my private or personal life (unless i have brought it up to you first), ⁴discuss adult topics with me (including fiction and reality; this includes making sexual & inappropriate jokes), ³interact with me if you consume / create or support other minors writing dark content or smut, ⁵ask for advice with your romantic or sexual relationships (asking for advice with familial relationships are fine; i.e. family or friends)
i am not opposed to minors following or interacting with me, as this is an entirely safe for work blog and i enjoy interacting with all age groups, but there are boundaries which should never be crossed between an adult and a minor. this is for my own comfort and for your safety, so please respect this. if you have ignored my requests, you will be blocked from interacting with me and my blogs contents - i do not allow "second chances" nor do i soft block over hard blocking; it is permanent. your first chance starts here with reading my guidelines.
〖 𖤐 〗 GUIDANCE FOR MUTUALS
you may : wish to do anything listed in ¹, ⁸ask for my discord or other social media, ask for favours (that are appropriate and within my capabilities), ⁹invite me to groups / events / collabs or recommend me to your mutuals, ¹⁰ask for selfship exchange; i.e. i will make you selfship art/writing in exchange for you making me some selfship art/writing.
⁷you may not : interact with me if you do ³, only mutuals over 18 are allow to do ⁴ & ⁵, mutuals over 18 are only allowed to platonically flirt with me (²), selfship our original characters together, selfship ourselves together; i.e. i do not allow ship names between me and mutuals and i do not allow roleplaying of any kind.
this covers everything for the guidance for mutuals section, and it may still be updated in the future. if you are confused about anything, feel free to shoot me a dm instead and i will happily answer any questions you have!
〖 𖤐 〗 GUIDANCE FOR FOLLOWERS
you may : do ¹¹ & ¹²
¹³you may not : recommend me or my writing outside of the tumblr platform, do anything listed in ⁶ & ⁷, ask for ⁸ & ⁹ & ¹⁰
〖 𖤐 〗 GUIDANCE FOR ANONS
you may : ask to become an emoji anon!, do ¹¹ & ¹²
you may not : do anything listed in ¹³, send hate mail of any kind, send me writing requests on anon.
i hope the number referencing did not confuse anyone; if you are still unsure after reading through this entire section, please inquire me through my inbox (or dms, for mutuals).
please follow all basic do not interact criteria, as most should be common sense by now - do not be a bigot and do not start unnecessary drama on my blog.
anyone is free to use this as a template to follow along with on your own blog.
if you have made it this far, you can find my writing down below through the copyright notice.
© SCRIBETRY 2024
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Photos- Chainshipping
Okay!! My requests are currently open for just about every single saw character or apprentice (with the exception being Logan--I haven't watched either Jigsaw or Spiral just yet and thus, don't really know much about him besides his name) so if anyone has any ideas, feel free to shoot them into my inbox--I do character x character but also love me a bit of reader insert so whatever ideas you have, I'll be happy to take a look!
fic type- this fic jumps everywhere, but the primary genres are fluff--there's angst and angsty undertones in this as well though
warnings-Adam has PTSD (though he doesn't get diagnosed) and the symptoms he exhibits are as follows: avoidance, anxiety, fears of things that relate to his time in the trap (it's never stated, more depicted, but he's afraid of the dark) and anxiety whenever something triggers the memories of the trap. He does go through an episode in relation to his PTSD post trap and the episode manifests as a panic attack kind of ordeal. There are also potential SAW X spoilers (I haven't seen the movie so please don't spoil it for me--I mention offhandedly that another attack had shown up in the news in the same place where SAW X is set, which is the extent of the spoilers for the film) this has been edited but it was edited in about an hour and fifteen minutes so it's not perfect. It's also a long fic and caps at 8.2k words
When Adam next wakes, he finds himself in a hospital room. He wakes in time to see an investigative officer enter his room, quiet on the assumption that he's still sleeping.
He scrutinizes the detective in the moments before they realize he's awake, his throat dry and his shoulder burning with the ache of a bullet that had been removed but was still left in his shoulder too long.
The detective appears to be a guy--probably taller than him but not by much, only a bit of thinning hair left to speak for what was once probably a full head. He looks, from the get-go, a little irritated, and his outfitting is a basic button down, a black tie and black pants.
For a second, Adam wonders how legal it is for detectives to intrude upon the hospital rooms of Jigsaw survivors, his gaze passing over the detectives frame once more, but he realizes that, if the detective does care, he doesn't care all that much.
Who is Adam to judge, anyway? While his work as a PI was done in the name of making enough to get the rent on his shitty apartment paid in time, he still did it. He still stalked people, watched them meet up with their secretaries to cheat on their soon-to-be-ex-wives in the middle of their divorce proceedings.
He still learned the comings and goings of innocents and allowed that to be turned against them, so even if he wants to, he can't judge the detective on the basis of legal versus illegal. He can't judge the detective for doing something that feels shady when Adam has done a number of shady things himself.
Finally, the detective looks at him, startled to find he hasn't removed his gaze from him since he first heard the hospital door creak open.
"Hello, Adam," the detective greets. "My name is Detective Eric Matthews. You escaped a trap that you were put into by the Jigsaw killer. Can you tell me how?"
Adam blinks--he can barely recall what his own name is. He doesn't know the time or the date. Why would a detective expect him to be able to explain something like that so soon?
"Uh," Adam says. "I'd rather do this at a police station or precinct. I can't remember shit, Detective, and I need at least a day to make sure my head is clear."
The detective nods dejectedly, face falling like he's disappointed in Adams response.
"All right," he says. "If there's anything I can do or anyone I can call, let me know now. I'm sure your family is worried sick."
Adam feels like it's a jab, almost, but ignores that feeling. He thinks of his mother for a second, then his father. He wonders how they're both doing before realizing he's not talked to Scott in weeks. The last person his mind lands on is Lawrence--how is he doing? Is he the reason that Adam escaped?
"No," Adam says. "I've got nobody. If I had anyone, they would've called by now, I think. Thank you for offering, though."
Eric nods, and Adam watches him go.
Very quickly, Adam realizes he's been left alone again, and when he looks to his right, out the hospital window, he finds that he's woken up in time to catch the sunset.
Adam has never found much of a point in watching the sunset alone, though, so he sighs. He turns his head so that it faces a white painted wall, gives in to the morphine-induced exhaustion and closes his eyes, falling asleep with the sunset to paint a picture perfect background.
-
Days pass, and in each one of them, Lawrence consumes the whole of Adams thoughts for at least two hours. Typically whenever a nurse walks in to change his IVs or renew the morphine drip that has been steadily keeping the worst of the pain from the bullet wound at bay, though sometimes when someone comes around to bring him food.
Any entrance into his hospital room can be thought to be Lawrence for a minimum of three seconds, Adam finds. He looks up, realizes it isn't Lawrence and while one part of him deflates with some sense of sadness, the other feels relieved.
It's an odd split--despite how much Adam thinks of him, he doesn't know what would make him happier; would seeing Lawrence and being assured he's fine be better? Would it be better than never seeing Lawrence again, leaving him and his mind to wonder whatever happened to the oncologist?
Detective Eric Matthews doesn't swing by his hospital room again, but the day following his first visit, a nurse came in to tell Adam that he was wanted at the police station to deliver a statement as soon as he felt ready to do so.
On his final morning in the hospital, Adam is given several written prescriptions after being honest about the pain in his shoulder--days of recovery and the pain is still there, which has lead his doctor to believe it could be chronic.
He's sent on his merry way and gets into a cab to go back to his apartment, idly wondering just how worth it it would be to call his parents.
Getting to his apartment is a trip and a half--he realizes he doesn't have his keys on him but finds them poking out from under the door, and the first thing he does after unlocking his door is turn on the light in the entryway.
He proceeds with growing anxiety through the darkness in his hallways to get to his room. When he's there, he promptly turns the light on and goes about getting himself acceptable outfitting--he's due in to make a statement at the station, and it's half past ten in the morning. Better to get it out of the way and deal with the press that's coming out of the woodwork sooner than later.
He grabs a towel and turns his bedroom light off, proceeding to his bathroom. When he turns on the water, its cold and reminiscent of the water he'd woken up in in the bathroom with Lawrence.
When he notices it and to the detriment of his neighbor who won't have access to the hot water for thirty minutes once Adam is done, he turns the knob so that the water is almost scalding.
He hates it--the way that a bit of cold water cascading from his head to his shoulders and down his torso has reminded him so easily of the bathroom. He tries to shake it but almost can't, so he moves through the movements of the shower as quickly as he can without just skipping through the entire ordeal.
He dries himself, gets dressed into a decent pair of jeans, a baggy black shirt and a dark gray flannel, and walks to the station like he used to when he was taking photos for a detective who worked there.
The route is so familiar that it's eerie, and he half wonders who it was who stalked him while was doing the stalking. He wishes he knew which one of Jigsaws accomplices it was who was making sure that they had everything set to go for his game, but then he thinks better of it.
He doesn't want to know that sort of thing, and trying to figure it out could have him in a trap worse than the one that Jigsaw had put him in in the first place.
When Adam gets to the station, he tells the secretary he's there to make a statement. At this, the secretary makes a call and a woman comes out of an office--a detective who looks all business but in the tired kind of way, with her exhausted looking partner on her heels.
"My name is Special Agent Lindsey Perez," the woman greets. "This my partner, Peter Strahm. We're with the FBI and while we've agreed that Erics approach was not the way to go about acquainting you with the police force at all, we're both glad you could come in today. We'll get you sorted in an interrogation room with some water and a cigarette. It'll only be a few minutes, Mr. Stanheight, and if there's anything else you need feel free to let us know."
Adam has nothing to say so he just shakes his head and lets Perez and Strahm lead him off. When entering the room, Perez notes that she'll bring a blanket back and some coffee--the interrogation room is exceedingly cold--which Adam finds himself thankful for. It's early November but it feels like he's found himself in the middle of a New Jersey winter with how cold the room is.
The interrogation room is cold, the seats metal, and the walls a bland and basic navy-blue-ish black color. Adam wishes he'd stayed home but realizes it's too late for that.
He knows he'll have to spend the next several hours dredging up the memories that had come back in bits and pieces during the hospital stay, the memories he'd half been trying to forget and half been trying to process.
Perez comes back after a few minutes, draping a blanket over Adams shoulders and setting a cup of coffee in front of him while he smokes the cigarette that had been left for him to smoke.
"All of this is going to be on record," Perez says. "Do you know why John Kramer chose to test you?"
"I work as a PI on occasion," Adam admits, guilt swallowing him bit by bit. "I was one piece in Lawrences game because I was hired by a detective who knows his wife and suspected cheating. Hiding in the shadows, taking photos of the unknowing, it's not exactly a redeemable quality in the eyes of a serial killer like him."
"Why did you do it?"
"I have a camera," Adam says, shrugging. "I needed to make the rent and get some cigarette money. I did what I had to, like everyone else does in Jersey."
Perez nods. "Do you have any recollection of how you escaped?"
Adam tightens the blanket around himself. His escape is one of the memories he's tried not to think about because he remembers it in excruciating detail until the distinct point where he collapses, and it's not fun to think about at all.
"A girl came in after a day or two. Tried to kill me," Adam says. "I managed to survive that somehow. A couple of days later, some guy opens the door. Drops a key by my hand and leaves the door open. I test the key on the chain, it works, I get up and I run while starving and dehydrated. Make it outside, promptly collapse, all the fun stuff."
"And do you remember how you got to the hospital?"
"No," Adam admits. It's the one blank spot in his memory that he hasn't been able to dredge anything up from. "I wish I did, but I don't. I've kind of assumed that someone saw me, called 911, exercised the rare gift of basic human decency."
Perez nods. She looks at Adam like he's broken and he kind of hates it, but then his mind snaps to Lawrence, the smell of coffee the gun in the bullet and the act of having to think about the bathroom being the thing that pulls the trigger.
"Uh," Adam starts, taking a drag of his cigarette. "Do you know anything--anything at all--about Lawrence Gordon? He was in the trap with me and I haven't stopped thinking about him since I woke up in the hospital."
Perez smiles, tired and sad. "I'll see what we can find, but last I heard he was in a private wing. His wife called the other day to ask us if we'd heard from you? Lawrence has apparently been asking after you, too."
"Thank you," it's the first time Adam has wanted to smile in days.
The questioning continues for a long couple of hours, Adam stating and restating things until his head hurts and all he wants is a bit of decent cheap takeout. He's let go when it's almost the sunset and again chooses to proceed without watching it. Maybe, when he has someone worthwhile, he'll consider watching the sun go down, but what is the point of such when you're doing it alone?
-
Another long few weeks pass him by. Adam gets himself a job at a Mom and Pop bookstore near the heart of the city, and with the pay raise that'll come once he's worked there six months, he'll be able to afford a decent apartment and still have money left for groceries if he shops at places known for their low costs, like Aldi or Lidl.
He doesn't stop taking photos--he's spurred on when a gallery reaches out, offers to pay him ten thousand if he can take forty photos of a theme of his choosing by the end of the year so that they can display it for five months.
A collection, they'd called it. A collection of photos with one common theme or aspect and a title of Adams choosing. He couldn't say no, even if the idea of ten thousand dollars up front played more of a part in that than he's willing to admit.
He doesn't know what the collection will be called, but as he realizes what kind of photos he's started taking, he has an idea of the theme.
Lawrence, he realizes as he goes on what has turned into one of his daily walks, would probably like that the trauma they endured didn't do anything to falter Adams love for photography.
Lawrence, Adam has also realized, has something of a permanent foothold in his mind. He is always there, always lingering, ever present in the idea of seeking Lawrence out, going searching and hoping to find.
He grins, snaps a photo of a stray cat lounging in the public gardens, when he hears a voice that is so familiar it makes his chest ache with the yearning of three weeks gone.
"Adam?" Lawrence asks. "I didn't know you liked the gardens."
They haven't spoken in weeks. Adam has been trying to figure out what to say to Lawrence for weeks, and still Lawrence gets the opportunity to speak before he does.
"I don't," Adam says, startled as he looks up to the person he likely shares some twisted kind of bond with. "I uh--I take walks now. I owe a gallery forty photos for a display by the end of December, so..."
"You take walks?" Lawrence asks, and Adam notices the cane, the way with which Lawrence leans against it. "I've been taking walks, too. It's part of the regimen I've built for myself. A walk everyday at the same time, the same route."
It's the first time they've spoken in weeks, and the fact that both of them go on walks daily is the first area in which they've found common ground? If Adam weren't so shocked by it, he would laugh at himself and at Larry, too.
"Uh," Adam pauses. "I go wherever my feet take me until I realize I've gotten lost. I work full time at a bookstore now and the long walks aren't a good thing for me, but the fresh air is nice, so I take them anyway."
"Walk with me, then?" Lawrence asks. "I mean--you don't have to walk me to my apartment or anything, but I could use the company and I really have been meaning to reach out to you."
Adam thinks on it for all of two seconds before nodding. "I could use someone to bother about my excitement with the whole gallery thing, anyway," he says. "I could tell my coworkers, but I don't know them very well, so if you're the next best thing then..."
Lawrence laughs, and Adams heart does an annoying little flip that tells him everything he needs to know but will choose to ignore for the time being.
The two of them move through the garden, occasionally stopping so that Adam can take photos of the small lakes and ravines they see because of the way that the light reflects off the water. They do it in relative silence until Adam speaks up.
"Ten thousand up front," he says. "I've never seen that kind of money before. I could get myself a decent place with it, which is the plan."
"Have you decided a theme yet?"
Adam sidesteps a bit while Lawrence keeps walking, not having realized the fact that Adam is falling behind. Adam snaps a photo of Lawrence as he moves and grins to himself.
"I haven't officially decided yet," he says. "However, I think the theme I'm going for is 'things a guy with chronic shoulder pain and a gabapentin prescription that he needs to refill at the end of next month finds beautiful post bathroom trap.'"
Lawrence, at this point, has realized that Adam has fallen back and joins him.
"You are not putting that photo in your display," he says, having realized he's the subject of the photo Adam has just taken. Adam starts walking at a pace acceptable for Lawrence, shrugging as he walks.
"I did say it was things a guy with chronic shoulder pain and a gabapentin prescription finds beautiful. Not things an oncologist who's as stubborn as he is tall finds beautiful, Larry. Had it been things you find beautiful, I don't imagine that this roll of film would have nearly as many stray cats, if any at all."
Lawrence shakes his head. "I'm not stubborn. I just don't like the view of me that exists from behind."
Adam laughs a bit, and a heaviness starts to hang in the air.
"How've you been?" Adam asks, and he almost hates it. It feels like they're past the need for the basic questions--how are you, how've been, are things all right?--but Adam supposes they're not, wonders if they ever will be.
"I've been okay, and you?"
I can't go to the part of town where the trap was, he wants to say. And I have to wait before stepping into the shower for the water to warm up because the water I woke up in was cold, and I can't stand the dark anymore--not like I used to be able to.
"I'm okay," Adam says.
He doesn't even believe himself, and he's typically a very convincing liar.
"Are you?" Lawrence asks.
"Are you?" Adam repeats. At this, they both laugh because they know they aren't okay, and they lied to spare the feelings of the other person, and neither of them are really sure if they'll ever be okay again.
Adam walks Lawrence home in a bit of comfortable lapsing silence, and says "okay," when Lawrence invites him in for coffee.
Lawrences apartment is exactly what one can expect from a recently divorced rich doctor who's just hit his forties. It's beige and brown and the dining room table reeks of quality. A KitchenAid stand mixer sits on the kitchen counter, and Lawrence has an entire espresso machine. Talk about responsible use of finances.
Adam sighs a bit after Lawrence has made him a cup of chamomile tea and everything within him has kind of stilled.
They're sitting on the brown leather couch in his living room, the curtains open to display a sunset that Adam would've paid more attention to in just about any other circumstance. There's no point in watching the sunset alone, but he has Lawrence. If they ever make it to that point, they can watch the sun go down together, Adam figures.
"I feel like I can't really escape it most days," Adam admits after some time. "Like--I was hounded by reporters and true crime junkies pretty frequently up until last week, and I saw Jigsaws name in the news the other day for something that happened in Mexico, of all places. I just don't feel like I'll ever escape Jigsaw or what happened in the bathroom."
"I've been the same way," Lawrence says. "Alison and I are getting a divorce. I haven't seen Diana since I was in the hospital--no matter how many times I've assured them both I'm fine, I can't escape it. I'm being coddled because of my experience with that bathroom. Coddled because I'm a trauma victim now."
"Well--" Adam shrugs. "That's what the bathroom did--it traumatized us, Larry. We're not the same people we used to be."
It's something that Adam hates but loves all the same. He's not the guy who used to stalk people in the name of making the rent.
Lawrence--well, Lawrence lost his foot. Of course he's changed. How can a person not change after losing something so dramatically?
Lawrence nods. Silence lapses. Adam takes a sip of his tea and tries not to tell Lawrence every last bit of the past few weeks--the yearning, the not-sleeping, the apparent fear of the dark and the inability to look at plastic bags the same way because he almost lost his life after someone tried to strangle him using one. The avoidance, the way that certain smells will have Adam back in that bathroom and terrified to the end of his wits.
"We'll get better, won't we?" Lawrence breaks the silence in two with one of the most heartbreaking sentences Adam has ever heard.
"You're the doctor," Adam says. "You tell me, Larry."
Lawrence smiles. Adam smiles back.
"The aftermath of traumatic events sometimes leads to PTSD. Even if we develop it, I think we'll be fine," Lawrence says. "The initial reactions include relief to be alive post trauma, and that can be followed by stress, fear, and anger. We might even find ourselves unable to stop thinking about it, but if we can make it through that, we will be just fine."
Adam realizes Lawrence is saying it for his own benefit--Lawrence needs this, he knows. He needs it a lot more than Adam does.
"Yeah," Adam says, nodding a bit. "Yeah. We'll be okay, Larry. Unless we do something that the motherfucker doesn't like--then we're screwed."
Lawrence laughs, shakes his head. "Those jokes aren't funny."
"Clearly they are," Adam rebuts. "If you genuinely didn't find me funny, you wouldn't be laughing."
Lawrence is still smiling, and Adam still has his camera, so he lifts it and snaps a split-second photo of Lawrence.
Lawrence turns to look at him, annoyance clear on his face. Adam bites gently at his top lip, meeting Lawrences gaze with mischief clear in his eyes.
"Yep," he says. "Into the collection that goes, Larry. One for the ages, I think."
"I really don't like being caught off guard," Lawrence says. Adam shrugs.
"And I really do like finding beauty where one doesn't expect it. I can say that I didn't expect to find your smile beautiful, so I snapped a photo," Adam shrugs. "You're not terrible to look at, Larry. Quite the opposite."
Lawrence snorts. "You flatter and distract," he says accusingly. All that Adam can do is snap another photo before he takes a sip of his tea.
"So it worked, then?" He asks, ignoring the way that his heart gives another funny little flip. "I've flattered you?"
Lawrence laughs. "What?" He asks. "I'm assuming that it means you have another plan attached to your flattery?"
Adam quirks his eyebrows. "One minute, I'm flirting to distract you from the fact that your photo is being taken and the next, you're completely and utterly infatuated with me, Larry. That's my big plan to win you over."
Lawrence shakes his head. Adam takes another sip of his tea. Silence lapses.
Adam doesn't know why, but he wants to stay. Lawrence has had a foothold in his thoughts for weeks, and even if they have a surplus of extended, uncomfortable, lapses in silence, Adam doesn't want to go anywhere.
Adam finishes his tea and gets up, leaving his camera on the couch as he tosses his teabag into the compost bin and rinses his mug.
Lawrence joins him.
"I really did mean to call," Lawrence says. "I just--recovery at the hospital, being given divorce papers, and then giving the police a statement, and then the whole circus that it was trying to deal with the press, I couldn't find the time."
Adam shrugs. "I wanted to call too, but I had to find something to do so that I could still use my phone, so that I could pay the rent. I decided from the get-go I wasn't going to do PI work anymore. Still occasionally get calls from my old contact, though."
"Do you think you could ever do it again?"
"Not a chance," Adam says. "I can't even--the idea of it consumes me with guilt. Plus, a roll of film with a bunch of stray cats is now of more use to me than a roll of film that details the comings and goings of people who go to seedy motels to cheat on their spouses. Yeah, I could make the rent being a PI but who doesn't love a stray cat lounging on the pavement? Who doesn't love working at a Mom and Pop style bookstore with a side of price gouging, honestly?"
Lawrence laughs. Adam sighs, shaking his head because he hates his job and he hates his apartment and he hates the fact that the press wouldn't leave him or Larry alone, but if it all leads to moments like that then it's all worth it.
It feels like all of the time they've spent away from each other ceases to exist. Like they're who they could've been outside the bathroom, a dynamic that nobody really expects to see because of how different their societal statuses are.
Adam looks at Lawrence with a smile. "I'm keeping those photos," he says.
Lawrences face falls, and Adam laughs.
"Not for the collection, of course," Adam feels something romantic bubble within him. He pushes it down and away. "For my own personal admiration. I've got a buddy who I haven't talked to in a while--his name is Scott Tibbs. He'll pay me decent money for photographing his band and I'll be using that to get frames once the photos develop."
"You're going to frame silly photos you took of me?" Lawrence asks. "This is the first time either of us have seen each other or talked in weeks, and this is where we're at?"
"Yeah," Adam nods. "I'm keeping you in my life, Larry, whether you like it or not. Keeping you in my life means I have to develop the photos. It also means I have to frame them and buy a shelf to put them on."
Lawrence scoffs. Adam grins.
"Well," he says. "Before you have the chance to stop me, I should go. I work a morning shift tomorrow, but you'll probably find me in the gardens, playing with the first stray cat I see around five."
"Noted," Lawrence says as Adam proceeds back to the living room. He grabs his camera, slinging it over his shoulder by the strap. "See you around five tomorrow, Adam."
Adam grins as he leaves. "Tomorrow, Larry," he says as he goes.
It seems, in a meeting that occurred by accident, Adam has found himself a new routine. It's something that excites him, though, and the high from that excitement carries him through the long walk home and lasts until he falls asleep.
-
Before Adam knows it, the end of 2004 has come around. He's taken more than a hundred photos and compiled forty of those photos into a theme that's suitable.
The pain of what he's experienced still kicks around, though, and it really doesn't take Adam that long to realize that the pain doesn't care where he is or what he's doing. The pain will come back around no matter what time of day it is, no matter where he is or what he's doing.
Knowing what'll trigger him is something upon which Adam can typically pride himself. He knows what makes the traumatized part of his mind start ticking and knows how to calm it down, but New Years Eve 2004, he can't figure it out.
He's giving the headliner the name of his collection when it hits--it's a burning pain in his shoulder at first, something he powers through to the best of his capability.
The collection itself is called A Unique Look at Jersey, and it's actually something of which Adam is quite proud, but the burning pain starts in his shoulder and Adam knows what it means right off the bat. Something, he knows, isn't right.
So, after he's explained the way that the photos are meant to be displayed for it to make sense and after he's been paid ten thousand dollars up front, Adam bolts out of the gallery. He rushes to his car and sits in the drivers side, trying to fend off the breakdown before it really hits him.
He glances around the area to see if he recognizes it from that black-out period between when he collapsed to the ground and when he woke in the hospital.
Nothing seems familiar, and that makes Adam want to bash his head through the car windows. He can't figure out what's set him off and it's making him so anxious that his hands are shaking.
Typically, when something sets him off, he knows what it is right out the gate. He knows when a space is too dark and he needs to get somewhere with more light or create that space himself. He knows to step out of the water, to move his hand away from it, when it's as cold as the water in the grimy bathtub was. He intentionally avoids movies wherein guns are fired and wounds are depicted or bloodied clothes are shown because that triggers the memories attached to the last words Lawrence had spoken to him before his escape.
But today, something sets him off and he doesn't know what it is. He wants to find out, though, so he does something risky.
The memory of grimy tiles beneath his feet, stale air going into his lungs, the feeling of a chain clasped to his foot, all nearly overcloud his sight as Adam drives away from the art gallery. He drives closer to the source of the episode, choosing directions based on his anxiety and how terribly it spikes whenever he takes whichever turn.
He finds himself at a building he vaguely recognizes for a split second before it hits him. The memories he'd thought were a black out--the stuff he couldn't explain to Special Agent Perez, the things he thought he'd forgotten and would never remember.
He recalls, very suddenly, the fact that, once he was in the daylight, he didn't stop running. He ran until he found a storefront, got the clerk to call 911, and then collapsed of dehydration against a window outside.
He recalls just how much it sucks to be the kind of hungry that hits when you haven't eaten in four days, how terrible the pain in his shoulder was and the odd desire to know who exactly it was who'd tried to strangle him.
It comes to a head and Adam presses his forehead against the steering wheel, hand going to find his phone so that he can dial Lawrence.
Lawrence picks up on the third ring.
"Adam?" He asks. Their daily walk is due to start in an hour. It's not like Adam to call Lawrence an hour before they walk together because they'll just be able to talk in the next hour anyway.
"Lawrence," Adam whispers. He gives a relieved sigh. "You left."
"I did," Lawrence says. "I said I'd come back for you, Adam, and I meant to. I was going to, I promise."
Adams breath is completely out of whack. He needs to find a way to make sure it normalizes again.
"All I can think about right now is the--the--" the incident. The bathroom trap. The tape, the photos, the saw that Lawrence used to cut off his own foot. The feeling of gross bathroom tiles beneath his feet and under his hands, the smell of blood and the fact that he hit Zep Hindle until he died and didn't stop once Zep had stopped moving. The fact that the Jigsaw killer was still out there and the fact that Adam was terrified to so much as smoke a cigarette because it could put him back within the killers line of fire. "Lawrence, how do I stop it? How do I stop thinking about it?"
"Where are you?" Lawrence asks, his voice urgent. "I'll meet you there, Adam. Where are you right now?"
"That's not important," Adam says dismissively. "I just don't--I can't--Lawrence, it is so hard to breathe right now."
"Adam," Lawrence whispers. "Adam."
Adam presses the back of his head against the back of his seat. He presses his eyes closed as tightly as he can and he tries to will himself to normalcy, but he can't.
He can't escape the feeling of cold tiles beneath his feet, can't escape the fear he felt waking up in that bathtub. He can't escape the burning pain in his shoulder, the ache in his lungs or the fear in his chest. He can't escape. He can't escape.
For a split second, he's back there, well and truly.
"Lawrence," he whispers. "I'm going to be okay, yeah?"
"Yeah, Adam," Lawrence whispers back.
"How can I be sure you're telling the truth?"
"I wouldn't lie to you," Lawrence says, and despite Adams attempts to stop it, he finally starts crying. He ends the call abruptly and lets himself have a breakdown in the front seat of his car, knowing he'll meet Lawrence at the garden in an hour with his camera slung across his torso as usual.
He knows that he'll pretend everything is fine, he'll wish he could just get the nerve to kiss Lawrence like he's been wanting to for a month, and he'll mention the fact that he photographed a wedding in early last month that let him put down the deposit money for a decent place near the gardens. He'll ask Lawrence how his day was and he'll take a photo that catches Lawrence off guard, and everything will be how Adam is used to it all being.
He knows that it'll go back to the way it was within the next two hours, and as he breaks down for the first time in weeks while sitting in the front seat of his car, he finds he can't wait for the time to pass.
-
Two hours go by. Lawrence calls Adam to ask if they can postpone the walk by an hour, and Adam uses the time to feed the stray that lives in his apartment between packing what little he owns into boxes.
He made a deal with the realtor when he put the deposit down, so the apartment will be move in ready by the 16th of the month. Adam doesn't really own much so packing hasn't been his biggest concern--his biggest concern has been the stray cat he feeds on a regular basis. He wants to take her with him, but the ten thousand covers rent for fourteen months.
During those fourteen months, however, the money that Adam used to use for rent becomes grocery money. Six hundred and fifty dollars twice a month can get a lot of groceries from Aldi and Lidl, but he wonders for a minute, how much can $100 a month get a person in cat care and maintenance?
He doesn't let the thought linger beyond the lobby of his apartment, where he pets the cat on the head and promises that she'll have a decent life someday, one where most of the enrichment she gets doesn't come from batting away at the roaches whenever they get too close.
Then, camera draped over his torso, he's off. He walks to the gardens and meets Larry at the entrance, an apology on his tongue.
Adam explains that he probably has PTSD but hasn't been seeking out a diagnosis, just accommodating for it whenever possible. He lets Lawrence give him his opinion and the two talk back and forth in a manner that has become familiar.
Eventually, Adam says something and Lawrence laughs and Adams heart does that flip that it's getting more and more impossible to push aside. He grins a bit to himself, snaps a photo of Lawrence despite his protests.
"That is definitely one for the ages," he says, though he knows it's just a blurry photo of Lawrences side profile as he smiles.
"You say that every time," Lawrence says.
"And I'm right," Adam says. "I would have to be right, Larry. You think I would waste precious, expensive camera film taking photos of things I don't think are worthy of such titles? It's one for the ages, and it is absolutely going to be framed and put onto my shelf."
"How many photos of me have you taken in the past two months?" Lawrence asks. "Seriously. You must be running out of shelf space at this point, Adam."
Off the top of his head, the number that Adam comes up with is probably concerning.
He's taken more than a hundred photos since his escape in October. At least forty photos have been of Lawrence.
"Not nearly as many as you think," Adam says with a laugh. "I mean--if you want me to waste an entire roll of film on photos of you, you've gotta buy it. Five dollars a pop for one hundred and thirty six photos, I have rent to pay, groceries to buy and maybe a cat to feed. I love you, Larry, but not enough to waste a roll of film on you when I could take photos of the sunrise or the skyscrapers or cats staring menacingly at me from low rooftops."
Lawrence laughs. Adam resists the random urge to kiss him.
"Speaking of rent," Lawrence says. "Are you still living in the place with the roaches?"
"As long as I have myself moved in by the sixteenth of next month, no," Adam says. "I'm using the ten thousand I got from the gallery showing to guarantee I have a solid spot to live in until March of 2006. I did the math and, tax and amenities included, the ten thousand will get me that far. I'll get a pay raise in April, too, and that will keep me able to afford the rent of the new spot plus groceries."
Lawrence grins. "Ah, decided not to let the roaches keep you company?"
"They get really old really quick," Adam says with a bit of a laugh. "Kill six of them in thirty minutes and you'll start to see what I mean, Larry."
Lawrence laughs. Adams heart gives a flip that Adam ignores.
"Do you have any plans for the rest of the night?" Lawrence asks.
"I was going to smoke weed," Adam says. "Eat the chips I bought with gas money last night, then hit the hay around two in the morning. Do you happen to have a better idea, Larry?"
"I have a two joints from a coworker who insists I need to loosen up," Larry says. "I meant to give them to you for Christmas, but you weren't at your place, so that fell apart."
"I was visiting the 'rents," Adam says somberly. "Went about as well as a reconnection attempt can go when your father is the one who kicked you out on your eighteenth birthday--but, that's not the point. If you want to smoke, we can! I would love to see you stoned."
Lawrence nods. "Sure," he says. "Maybe I do need to unwind. I booked tomorrow off anyway, figuring I'd get drunk on champagne and then have a hangover."
"I can't wait," Adam says. "Oh, seeing you get stoned? That's gonna be amazing."
Lawrence laughs. Adam snaps another photo. They carry on.
-
It's five to midnight, and neither of them have started smoking despite the presence of the joints and a matchbox. Adam is too wrapped up in the way that Lawrence is speaking, too focused on his lips and the sound of his voice.
"And it's not even like this sort of thing should be a big deal," Lawrence says. "But Alison, even when our divorce has barely been finalized two weeks, is insistent I get back on the horse, so to speak."
Adam laughs. He doesn't know what that's like, not really--Scott would occasionally help him flirt his way into a one night stand, but he's been talking to Scott less and less, only responding when Scott is the one doing the calling.
Scotts company just isn't the kind that's worth keeping--especially not after the stunt he pulled with the home-made Jigsaw trap, which he then bragged to Adam about surviving while they were within a twenty minute radius of the bathroom trap, and in the part of town Adam was consistent in avoiding because of the venue that Scotts band was playing and because Adam needed the money.
"Well, what's stopping you?" Adam asks. "Like, Larry--the dating market loves your type. Guy in his forties wanting to settle down. You're like--you're perfect to a minimum of twenty women within the tristate area."
"I think you're deluded," Lawrence says. "Twenty? Have a little bit more faith."
Adam grabs one of the joints and the matchbox, striking a match and lighting the joint without thought or care.
"Tomorrow night, or next weekend, or whenever I can actually get you to agree with me, we are going to a bar. We are drinking at least a little, and I am going to be your wingman," Adam says, though the idea of setting up the guy who he's consumed with yearning and want for with another person hurts on a whole new level of the feeling.
"No," Lawrence says. Adam inhales the smoke from the joint, passes it to Lawrence. "I don't need a wingman--I don't need a relationship right now, Adam. I have so much on my plate both with the divorce and in the romance department as it were. I don't need to get drunk or flirty with anyone when the one person I want to get drunk and flirty with is about as attracted to me as a bag of rocks."
"Who's the lucky lady?"
"The lucky lady is a photographer who is pushing thirty and has an affinity for stray cats," Lawrence says. "He's also a guy, but I guess that's just me being pedantic."
"A, twenty seven is not pushing thirty," Adam says. "It puts me on the downhill slope to thirty, which is different. B, of all of the people you could've fallen for, you chose a guy who barely has his life together? I can't judge because I find myself attracted to you, but still. All of the people you could've realized you were attracted to and it had to be the guy who you were in a weird bathroom trap with and are now probably bonded to based on our unified experiences."
Lawrence laughs. He takes a puff of the joint before passing it back to Adam, who grins at him.
"And besides, I really--you can do better than me, Larry," Adam says. "I mean--just go to a bar and look around a bit. You'll find a number of people who can't be compared to sewer rats, and I'm sure they'll be more your speed."
Lawrence is grinning, and all that Adam can think is: oh fuck.
And then Lawrence laughs, and all Adam can think is: we might destroy each other, or we might rebuild each other. I can't wait to find out which.
And then Lawrence is asking Adam if he can kiss him and Adam is laughing.
"If you want to kiss me while my lips and mouth probably taste like weed, go ahead," he says. "Yeah--Lawrence, kiss me."
And then Lawrence is kissing him and it's like Adam is on cloud nine, and Adam never wants to leave. He wants to stay in that moment for as long as he can, kissing Lawrence Gordon on his fire escape, cupping his face with one hand while relishing in the way that Lawrences hands feel when they find his hips.
Lawrence pulls away and Adam has to fight everything within him in order to keep himself from chasing his lips. He presses his forehead against Lawrences, breathy laugh falling from his lips.
"Not bad, Larry," he whispers.
Lawrence laughs, deep and throaty and perfect. "I could definitely wake up to that once in a while."
"Once in a while?" Adam asks, bringing the joint to his lips. "Oh, Larry. How you wound me."
Lawrence leans back, and Adam is looking at him.
Both of them have just realized that everything about their dynamic and their relationship has changed.
However, the kiss was so good that neither of them really give a damn.
-
Adam moves into his new place on the 16th, the gray and white stray cat from his old place under his arm after clearing that it was okay to take her with his previous landlord.
That night, with boxes of his things in their designated rooms, he and Larry decide to name the cat Graycie. Adam is still working out budgeting but Larry offered to foot the vet bills and to get her the beginnings of her necessities--offered meaning that Lawrence simply told him he was doing it and to consider it a late Christmas gift, because he had anticipated Adams resistance and knew that it had a fair shot of shutting him up--so that's not a concern for at least two months with all of the supplies Lawrence brought along.
But there's still the worries of furniture. His couch from the roach-infested place was...well, roach infested. His bed managed to not meet the same fate, though, so Adam is just glad he has a place to sleep.
He has plates, cutlery, cups and mugs so the whole "what will I eat off of?" question has an answer from the get-go, which is a relief, but still. There are questions that have answers and there are questions that don't. It's the questions without answers that have Adams anxiety spiking.
Still, the night that he's moved in and is sitting with Lawrence on his living room floor as Graycie the cat inspects the area by wandering from one room to the next is one of the best nights he's had in weeks.
Maybe, he thinks, it'll get better.
All that he really wants to focus on is the way that it feels to hold Lawrences face as the two of them kiss, Adams back pressed against a wall while bliss takes hold of his every sense, thought, and feeling.
Adam never really thought kissing someone could feel as good as it does to kiss Lawrence. Kissing was always just something he did--kissing a one night stand lead to sex, had the motive of getting to sex, but the way that they're kissing doesn't indicate that in the slightest.
It feels like Adam is kissing Lawrence just to kiss him, like Lawrence is kissing Adam just to kiss him in turn. It's something that Adam and his drunkest nights aren't particularly used to, but something he loves.
When Lawrence pulls away, Adam shamelessly chases his lips and laughs at himself for it, the embarrassment kicking in as Lawrence presses a kiss to the corner of his lips and Adam feels, for a moment, like he's melting.
Everything just feels so...perfect. It's something that Adam loves, something he cherishes.
It is something Adam never would've thought he deserved, but he reconciles he does deserve it. He deserves a happy ending, even if that happy ending is only finding it's beginning in an apartment that is relatively bare of furniture, sitting with his back against the wall and the lips of his fellow Jigsaw trap survivor pressed against his own.
As Graycie the cat approaches, brushing the side of her cheek against Lawrences hand before plopping into Adams lap and purring as loud as a broken car engine, he nods.
"I deserve this," he says. "I deserve to feel as happy as I do right now."
"You do," Lawrence agrees. "Even if you don't have a couch, or a kitchen table, or shelves that can hold the weight of more than two photo frames."
Adam grins, and Lawrences lips are against his again, his hand on Lawrences chest and feeling his heartbeat as it thrums through a high quality dress shirt.
He has a good life, he knows. He deserves it, he knows.
It's Lawrences presence and the sureness of the fact that Graycie the cat relies on him that causes all of his doubt to cease.
Lawrence pulls away, and Adam is grinning.
Lawrence grins, too.
Everything is perfect. It will not always be perfect, but it's perfect in that moment and Adam decides that that's what matters.
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200+ FOLLOWERS SPECIAL: Drawing Stuff!
HELLOOOOOOOOOO for those who don't know me, hi! I'm Samantha! A girl who daydreams upon fantasy, sucks at geometry, loves history, art, writing and so much more. A while ago, I began writing my known Lackadaisy fic Below the Surface, and wow....I've received a LOT of positive feedback and criticism. And it made my Tumblr sky rocket up to 213 FOLLOWERS. (huehehehe birth month and day number for meeeee) and oh my LORD.
I genuinely cannot thank you all, especially the friends I made on this hellsite: y'know who y'all are! Marshie, Star, Marly, Wilma, Pluto, and so so SO many more friends of mine. I love you all!
I was in a dark place a year and a half ago. So much happened. But I push that back, because the past is the past. What matters is now.
So now, I am opening drawing requests for my Lackadaisy OCs, but if you have OCs and you want me to draw them, PLEASE TELL ME!! It can be a sketch (colored or not), flat colored, or shaded. I might take some time, but I'll try to get it out as soon as I can. If you also have a prompt/expression, please send it in! The more specifics and references, the more I can REALLY make this art work out.
Below are my OCs for Lackadaisy you can request for!
Silas
Raquelle
Mandisa
James
Lacrimosa
Celeste
I can also draw your OCs with my OCs/other Lackadaisy characters, or my OCs with Lackadaisy characters! I'm open to a lot of stuff...JUST NO NSFW OR HEAVY GORE! Thank you!
anyone interested can dm me/shoot me an inbox message!
Thank you all so much again, ich liebe euch alles! <3333
feel free to reblog/like/share!
#Below the Surface - Lacka-Fic#lackadaisy#lackadaisy characters#lackadaisy ocs#fanart#art#original post#drawing requests
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Celebrity Skin
Eddie Munson x Rockstar!Afab Reader
It’s 1991 and Robin forced all of her friends to go to a concert with her for her birthday. Without listening to the band, Eddie agreed to go without knowing what was to come. Who knew being considered a ‘freak’ all his life would lead him to find a kindred soul in the grunge-rock’s princess.
Word Count: 2k
CW: 18+, MDNI!!!! GET THE BOOT!! Mentions of real people, cigarette smoking and mentions of alcohol, mentions of alcohol abuse
A/N: part three!!! WOOOOOOO so sorry if this is a bit jumpy, I genuinely didn’t know what to do with this chapter. I wanted to capture both the reader’s and Eddie’s anxiety before finally coming together! Also, my inbox is OPEN! Feel free to leave anything!!
MASTERLIST // PART TWO
Eddie edit is by @eddiemunsons-missingnipple
Pacing the desolate parking lot of the venue, sighs escaped the trio as Eddie took another hit from his third cigarette since the unmarked cars pulled off. Excitement and nerves filled his system.
“Jesus dude slow down before you melt through the soles of your shoes. I mean, then you’ll be on fire but not in the way you want to be.” A snicker left Nancy as Robin rambled out what was on her mind. Sticking his tongue out, the messy-haired man grumbled a curse before leaning on the side of Steve’s car. Letting out a heavy sigh, his anxiety became palpable.
If Eddie had a watch, he would be checking it every second. That’s exactly what Steve did as he checked his new Rolex and hummed happily. Waving his wrist proudly in front of Eddie’s frowning face, he cleared his throat which pulled the bored eyes of Nancy and Robin to Steve. Twirling his key ring on his index finger, the calmer of the two men headed towards the driver’s seat with a happy hum.
“Well, what are you waiting for? They’re waiting for us!” Steve exclaimed, his eyebrows knitting together as if it was common knowledge that they’d now depart for their destination. Confused looKs were shot to Steve as he fixed his hair in the rear view mirror before looking to the trio that stood there staring at him wordlessly.
“We could’ve left five minutes ago but it’s not very metal to be on time. Right, Eds?” The mocking lilt in the well-groomed man’s voice made Eddie’s eyelid twitch in semi-mock annoyance before pulling open the passenger side door for himself. With a huff, the lanky man crouched to get into the car all before adjusting the seat to accommodate his long legs.
A small whine from Robin signaled that he was too far back but truthfully he didn’t notice nor care, nerves being replaced with adrenaline once Steve pulled out of the parking lot with a screech. Nancy held on to whatever her hands could grip as she was flung against Robin, a yelp and a ‘slow down dipshit!’ left her lips. Yet before Robin and Nancy could chew out Steve for his reckless driving- Eddie not caring as he’s been known for almost flipping his van with speedy turns- the four of them pulled up to the extremely fancy hotel.
Paparazzi stood at the doors with their cameras angled at the mysterious car pulled up before groaning. “It’s not her, guys. Swear this tip was real! Came from the mansion!” A greasy sleaze ball of a man spoke with pure annoyance as Eddie helped Robin slide out of the car while Eddie passed his keys to the valet. Nancy, on the other hand, was intrigued by the number of paparazzi there, letting her curious mind get the best of her.
Approaching the only non-snot covered reporter, she straightened out her top before speaking loud enough to be able to be heard over the rest of the chattering men. “Hey! Are you here for Fuel the Rage?”
“Nah, we already caught them comin’ in. That singer is a piece of work y’know? Told Al over there to eat shit when he tried to grab her skirt.” Another reporter shouted which caused Nancy and the reporter she had initially asked to shoot glares at him. Eddie, one the other hand was furious that someone would ever lay hands on you. His heavy, angered exhale wasn’t ignored as Robin placed her hand on his back in a way to comfort him.
“Nance, c’mon. They’re waiting for us.” called Steve over his shoulder as he met eyes with the head of security for your band. Following with confusion as to who they would still be waiting for, none of them had time to ponder before quickly being escorted into a large elevator that led to the top floor. They looked out of place, well, at least Robin,Nancy, and Eddie did. They had never been ones to experience fancy hotels with mirrored walls on their elevators that looked over the entire city of Indianapolis.
————
Nervous? How could you be nervous?! Your band had preformed in Madison Square Garden for the MTV Unplugged session you did. Hell, that’s where you met and befriended your idols whom were now your closest friends and mentors. Yet somehow, a lanky man with curled brown hair and eyes like chocolate pools made your heart scream and your palms unnecessarily clammy. God, did you feel absolutely stupid, like a little girl about to see her crush on the field for the first time.
As you paced the room, your friend spoke from her lounged position in the plush chair while holding up the perfect little black dress.
“C’mon, sweets. What’s going on in your head right now?” Her sweet voice filled with genuine concern as you carefully take the dress from her.
“Nothin, P. Just… GOD!” You give an exasperated sigh as you sprawl out on the plush bed you claimed as the band made their way to the multi-story penthouse.
“Ohhhh. Cute boy, got it. I remember seeing you this way when you had a date with David Grohl. Such a shame that didn’t work out. Would’ve been a good couple.”
Twirling a piece of perfectly toned blonde hair around her manicured finger, your platonic partner in crime got up from her chair before helping you sit up on the bed. “Put this shit on and rock this guys world, sweet cheeks! You can make his night and his life so much better!” Her positive words pulled you from the meddling thoughts that were trying to lure you back in like a siren.
Snatching up the dress that you genuinely adored but never wore, you stripped from the pajamas that you had pulled on temporarily whilst you did your eye makeup and hair. Stepping into the little black dress, you zipped the side up all the while your friend was fixing your chest to make sure they popped more.
“There!” She chanted, happiness making hr face glow. Stopping you from judging yourself in the mirror, the ding of the elevator and the collective sounds of astonishment signaled that your guests were here.
———
“Harrington, this is better than the summer house you took me to as a graduation gift.” Robin murmured as she looked around. The prestige white walls were decorated with gold accents that caught the light of the crystal chandelier.
A full on crystal chandelier.
The balcony of the second floor overlooked the open floor plan of the first level. A large sectional with plush blankets paired with maroon pillows that were thrown randomly on the floor by a few groupies that Ryder had invited up.
“Oh hey!” Leaning over the gold railing directly across from the door of your room, your friend’s smile caught the eye of Steve instantly. Though, all of their jaws were slack as they drank in the model who greeted them with unfiltered joy.
“Is that fucking Pamela Andersen?” Nancy mumbled, Eddie and Robin nodding slowly in tandem before snapping back to reality.
“Alright, little fly traps, stop your gawking.” Your voice was sweet, but not the sickly kind like you were being condescending. No, rather like you were being yourself. A type of genuine that even the interviews never captured.
The sultry tone you usually had on stage disregarded as you and Pamela made your way down the stairs to join the group. With a squeeze of your hand, you looked over to silently thank Pamela for her support only to see the lovestruck shine in her eyes that you found endearing. “Go get ‘em, tiger.” You whispered in the shared space before standing in front of the four friends.
“So, I obviously don’t drink anymore but feel free to help yourselves. Thalia makes great drinks but be wary, she’s a VERY heavy pourer.” With a wink to Robin, you turned to Eddie with a timid smile, one unlike the ones you gave him from the stage or on your way to your cars. This one wasn’t filled with your act of confidence and an ‘I-couldn’t-give-less-of-a-fuck’ attitude.
“Hey.” His breath was taken away by the sight of you up close, so close that he could pull you in for a hug.
That was the thing; behind your spritely bounce and bright smile, Eddie could easily see the exhaustion behind your eyes. One he knew from working every night at the warehouse with Wayne just to afford moving out.
“Hey.” You simply respond, a shy smile played on your lips as your face flushed a pretty pink color. Being able to see Eddie up so close in clear light made your heart stutter. The freckles that lightly dotted his nose and cheeks, the soft flecks of gold in his doe eyes, and the way he nervously tongued his vertical labret piercing. He was glorious within the dim lights of the venue and he was drop-dead gorgeous now that you could properly drink him in.
Clearing your throat, you tried to hide the fact you were gently drinking in all of him. “So, you want a drink?” You offered a smile that held a small semblance of the confidence you usually possessed. Everyone had grouped off and moved to splay on the sectional or perch at the bar while keeping up conversations fluently.
Guiding Eddie to the bar, you quickly grab yourself soda water and grenadine to satiate the want for alcohol while the man of your dreams stares back at you with a dopey smile. “Um.” Clearing his throat, he realized he had gotten caught in his day dream.
His eyes traced your figure in the hip hugging black dress, your shoes discarded as you toed around in black socks that had frill trim. How could someone look so enticing and delectable yet so adorable at the same time? He had no clue but he didn’t care at all.
“Just a coke, I don’t want to drink ‘cus I know I’ll get carried away.” He confessed, his voice like a warm smoke. Handing him a can from the ice bucket on the far end of the bar, you offered a warm smile before heading to the outside balcony. Away from the noise and away from the others. The breeze of late winter, early spring brought a chill to your skin as you sparked a cigarette.
Before another shiver could roll off your body, Eddie had quickly wrapped his leather jacket around your shoulders. “Can’t have you gettin’ sick, sweetheart.” He crooned, onyx and scarlet painted skin now exposed as he joined you outside. With a deep breath, his frizzy hair blew out of his face in tandem with the wind as you both took in the busy streets below.
“Y’know. I’ve never been a groupie before.” The smirk could be heard in his voice as he raised a brow when he reached for the cigarette that rested between your fingers.
“Oh yeah?” Passing him the nicotine stick, you connected your gaze with his, “Well how does it feel to be the first groupie that I’ve invited up. Ever” The emphasis on the last word as you tugged on the worn sleeves of the leather jacket. Musk and motor oil paired with worn in cigarette smoke and cologne that held a light jasmine undertone filled your head. It was distinctly him. Practically a stranger yet it felt like you knew everything about him as you wrapped the material closer to your body.
Disguising it as a shiver, you were too shy to admit that it was actually because you wanted more of his scent to make you dizzy.
“So we’re each other’s firsts?” Perking a brow as smoke danced from his perfectly plump lips, an airy laugh left you both.
“Yeah, promise you’ll be gentle with me? Can’t break me Mister Metalhead.” Plucking the cigarette from his lips as he was mid drag, you giggled as he sputtered. Taking a drag for yourself, you found yourself sinking into one of the many lounge chairs.
“So Eddie,” your eyes held a new kind of flame. Timid, quiet, a polar opposite to your published image of the rebel child. The princess, or brat depending on who you talk to, of the grunge scene.
“What’s your opinion on the new Nirvana album?”
#reader insert#fanfiction#fanfic#eddie munson#stranger things#eddie munson fanfic#eddie munson x reader#eddie munson reader insert#stranger things 4#stranger things drabble#eddie x you#eddie stranger things#eddie munson is alive#eddie munson x y/n#eddie munson x you#eddie munson x female reader#rockstar eddie munson#joseph quinn#joseph quinn reader insert#joseph quinn x reader#joseph quinn x you#strangers to lovers#stranger things s4#stranger things fanfic#stranger things 3#stranger things 2#robin buckley#steve harrington#Steve Harrington the babysitter#steddie
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inbox/request guidelines
by popular demand! (this is a mess)
inbox is always open, but my number one rule is to keep your expectations low my beautiful angels. i have various things wrong with me that make everything hard and because of that i wont get to all of my requests, HOWEVER if i see something i like there's a pretty good chance i'll weave it into one of my other posts so keep an eye out for those! (suggestions and feedback are always welcome!)
currently only writing for spencer reid (should i expand into writing for hotch tho....)
fem!reader by default unless you request gn!reader
you can request fluff, angst, nsfw, whatever, IDC, be as broad or specific as you want
also! if you'd simply like my thoughts on an idea or a little blurb please specify! thats much less daunting and i may (MAY) be more likely to get to requests like those
in terms of nsfw requests, feel free to shoot your shot for whatever you'd like but as a general rule of thumb i don't write sub spencer and i am fairly vanilla but everyone enjoys a good power dynamic do they not??? i'm just a girl in the world with abandonment issues who needs constant reassurance and praise. aren't we all! hahahahahahahaha!
in terms of angst requests, i'm an evil scorpio woman and i'm willing to go dark as long as i feel we're not overtly glorifying anything we shouldn't be. but i understand that reading about someone getting support for problems you have irl can be really therapeutic, so again, if you're not sure just shoot your shot and if i don't answer it please don't take it personally!
in general, please only request if ur okay with the fact that i may not get to it
and on a final note, i love love love hearing from you guys no matter what it is--requests, questions, anecdotes from your day; like i said, my inbox is always open and even if i don't reply know that i'm always thinking kind and loving thoughts and sending them your way!!
#assuming this cleared up literally nothing and was entirely unhelpful#if you don't like it this is not the blog for you#moral of the story is yolo
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Room & Board - Part 10 (Vampire x Reader)
Anon submitted this prompt: For the prompt submissions a vampire that feels guilty after feeding/attacking someone so they leave obscenely valuable ancient artifacts as payment/an apology?
Part 1 | Previous | Masterlist | Next
x x x x x
Comments, tags, and reblogs are real motivators for me, too! (●ˇ∀ˇ●)
Also, my inbox is always open for asks, so don’t be shy!
x x x x x
A sudden surge pulses through the air between the two as their eyes meet. It's like unseen forces, snapping jaws at each other. In that moment, you are painfully aware of how they dwarf you in height, though Tabaeus is certainly taller than Ewan.
Ewan's nostrils flares, his eyes narrowing as his head cocks to the side at Tabaeus. The smile on his lips loses its friendliness and you can't help but think of it like a snarl. "Yeah. We used to work together at the mall."
"How intriguing," Tabaeus purrs as they raise their eyebrows. Their hands twitch on yours. Something is not being said between the two and you're not entirely sure it has anything to do with you. A masked sort of haughtiness mingles with jest as Tabaeus nods to Ewan's work shirt. "From the mall to the streets? Some would consider that a step down."
"I work in a lot of places," Ewan retorts, his eyebrows lowering as the slightest bite of embarrassment flushes their cheeks. Your former colleague angles their attention back to you, though they seem to have a hard time not glaring at Tabaeus's arms locking you in place. "Who's this guy?"
With a sigh, you nod to the vampire, "This is Tabaeus, my roommate. They/them."
"And he/him," they added, with a pointed tone to Ewan. You think they give your hands another squeeze, but you're not entirely certain it was a conscious movement.
"And he/him," you correct yourself. Craning your neck to look up at Tabaeus, you try to catch their eyes with your own meaningful look. However, the vampire's attention is squarely on your former colleague. "This is Ewan, he/him."
"Pleasure." The word comes out more like a hiss as Tabaeus flashes a smile at Ewan. You want to groan, seeing that the vampire's fangs are on full display.
Thankfully, Ewan doesn't seem put off as he mimics Tabaeus's polite toothy grimace with one of his own. Part of you wonders if his canines have always been so angular and sharp. "Likewise."
The pressure in the air weighs heavier than it did before. A need to do something to alleviate the tension shoots through you, instinct telling you something bad will happen if you don't.
"I won't keep you, Ewan." Behind you, Tabaeus relaxes, until you add with a softer tone, "We can text or chat online later, okay?"
Tabaeus completely forgotten, Ewan's attention turns fully to you. The friendliness returns to his smile, his posture easing. "Sure. Your number on your receipt?"
You mirror his smile and give a nod, even as you feel a strange coldness wrap around Tabaeus. Their stillness has a strange air to it, but you try to ignore it. "Yeah, feel free to snag it there and shoot me a text."
"Cool, cool." Ewan glances at the copy of the receipt he has in hand, as if already dedicating your number to memory in his head. Your stomach swirls as he looks back up at you, offering you that warm smile - not even glancing at Tabaeus - before he turns to go. "Well, have a good night."
Awkwardly, you and Tabaeus watch Ewan trod down the walk to his car, though you get the distinct impressions you watch the delivery man for different reasons. Once Ewan turns his car on, Tabaeus yoinks the food from your grasp and heads inside.
You spin around, glaring at the vampire's back after you shut and lock the door. They don't seem to notice. "What was that about?"
"Hm? What do you mean?" Tabaeus doesn't even turn to face you as they head into the kitchen.
"That tension!" Undeterred, you follow the vampire, your feet moving fast as if Tabaeus would run away. Something inside you cringes, hearing your heavy footfalls as angry stomps. "It was like being between two large animals that were ready to tear each other apart."
"Ah," is all they say as they line the boxes on the counter. One-by-one, Tabaeus opens the boxes to examine the pizzas and breadsticks and brownie lava cake, before poking into a plastic bag that holds your sodas. They're refusing to meet your eye.
"Ah? Ah?" You mimic their answer, crossing your arms over your chest. Still, Tabaeus refuses to look at you. "That's all you have to say?"
"Well, your assessment is not wrong."
That answer momentarily knocks the air from your lungs. Your determination of the situation - being stuck between Tabaeus and Ewan - being akin to being surrounded by two large beasts is not wrong? What the hell did that mean?
Your brain sputters answers, but you don't want to look too long at them. Part of you is afraid what might be correct.
"Why is my assessment not wrong?" The question comes off more like a demand as you watch Tabaeus glide around the kitchen, accumulating plates and utensils. With a steadfast air, they ignore your question.
As you continue to watch them, a dread swells in your stomach. They only smile as they hand you a plate, heaped with pizza and breadsticks. With wide angry eyes, you stare up at them and your voice quivers at the edges, "Tabaeus, why is my assessment not wrong?"
They do not answer. Instead, they turn to put a slice of pizza and a breadstick on their own plate.
You do not like how they're ignoring you. Without thinking, you noisily drop your plate to the counter, where it clatters and threatens to spill. The noise startles the vampire, who turns to you with wide eyes.
"Tabaeus, you tell me what is going on right now!" At your sides, your hands fist into tight balls. You try to ignore the waver to your voice, overcome with the sudden thought that something is going on that you're ignorant of.
Was Tabaeus keeping a secret, knowing it would give away potential lies they'd told? Did they know Ewan, personally? Was this some worldwide conspiracy to keep creatures of the night a secret from humanity?
The growing itch in your thoughts that had begun in the sewer morphed into a clawing sensation, razing in your synapses. What was Tabaeus hiding?
Your mind spun with questions and theories and worries. The revolving thoughts churned harder, making your stomach hurt, the longer it took Tabaeus to answer.
"I do not know," Tabaeus started, quietly and carefully. Their eyes turned toward your plate, their brows knitted with frustration. Carefully, they lower their own plate to the counter, perhaps to keep from throwing it down themselves. "All I know is that thing is... is..."
No more words come, even after you give them a few breaths to sort through whatever thoughts mill about their head. With a frown, you bite out, "Ewan is what?"
"Dangerous and vile, but simultaneously arrogant and harmless. Capable of rending humans in twain, but weak compared to a vampire." The words rush out of Tabaeus's mouth, rage and anger mangling their tone into something ragged. All the while, they shake their head, as if not entirely certain of their own words, a hint of confusion hiding under the venom. "A mangy creature that believes it owns the night when it emphatically does not."
Savagely, Tabaeus spits out as their snarl deepens, "It does not own anything but fleas."
Quiet falls in the empty space between you both as Tabaeus still refuses to meet your gaze. Their shoulders hunch with tension and a frown carves deep across their lips. A glow pulses in their red eyes, their fangs noticeably growing and overlapping their lower lip.
"That doesn't sound like you don't know what Ewan is," you say carefully, your own brows furrowed. You can't put your finger on it, but something seems off with Tabaeus. At once, worry and uncertainty tumble through your thoughts.
Tabaeus shifts on their feet, casting their eyes to the other side of the kitchen but not toward you. "I do not. I just know how he makes me feel."
You narrow your eyes, a suspicion hedging into your forethoughts. "Are werewolves a thing?"
The word makes Tabaeus stiffen, their eyes widening. A considering look crosses their features, their fingers going to their chin in thought. "That feels correct."
"Are you saying Ewan is a werewolf?"
"Yes," Tabaeus announces after another moment of silent thought. They finally turn their eyes to you, a renewed sense of affirmation in their tone as their hands clench. "Ewan is a smelly, stinking, mangy lycanthrope. And you offered him a place in our home!"
It takes a lot of self-discipline to keep from snapping back at Tabaeus. The house was not an 'ours' situation. It was yours. This was their payment for you agreeing to be a feeding bag. The bite of your nails in your palms distracts from the instant irritation.
You take a deep breath, trying to think through the issue at hand.
If lore or media was to be believed, there was active hostility between vampires and werewolves. It also sounded as if Tabaeus was being territorial. Either about the house or about the night, as a whole. Their actions didn't make sense to you. Not after the time you had spent with the vampire.
They were sweet and kind, perhaps a little naive. Definitely prone to temptation, when it came to blood. This bristling, hate-filled rage felt anomalous to what you were used to.
From an animalistic point of view, however, it did make sense. Holding possession over certain territories and resources was an instinct. Of course, it was perhaps harder for vampires to retain control of such things rather than werewolves. The latter didn't have to drink blood or only travel at night.
If what Tabaeus said about Ewan was true, you had been none-the-wiser to the canid monster as well!
"I didn't know he was a werewolf," you say once you feel the words will come out levelly. There's still a heat to your reply and you return Tabaeus's glare with one of your own. Your lips screw up into a frown, trying to equate what you know of Ewan to a werewolf. In a way, you suppose he could be.
The man was loyal and playful, like a dog, but he could get fierce when needed. There had been plenty of times he'd stepped in when a customer flirted in unwanted ways or when a seriously aggro customer was throwing a fit. Hell, you had seen him literally vault over the Lemon Jollies's counter once and run down a mall patron that was attempting to take off with someone else's toddler!
And it was hard to hang out with him, after hours. He always claimed he had another job to scurry off to, but what if he was hiding his own nature?
Shaking the memories from your head, you heave a sigh. "Even if I did know that, he's a decent person! He has, like, zero red flags, which is pretty rare."
Those words caused Tabaeus to still. In a dangerous way. You eye them, cocking an eyebrow, just before he quietly asks, "And how many red flags do I have?"
At that, you press your lips tightly together.
"How many red flags do I have?" Tabaeus repeats, their fists clenching tightly at their sides.
"It's hard for me to say, for sure." Which is true. It's hard to gauge Tabaeus, especially when his personality has changed and shifted so many times. Before tonight, you chalked it up to them healing from whatever happened to them. With this new snag, you're not sure. They talked about werewolves in a fashion that feels too un-Tabaeus to you. But, you barely knew them, didn't you?
As you internally fret over that, you try to answer the vampire's question. You can't help gesturing with your hands as you speak, the stress of everything making it hard to contain yourself. "You don't have solid memories, but you say things that worry me. Sometimes, I wonder if this is all just a big trick. That you do know who you are and you still have memories."
Instead of instant anger and rage, as you brace yourself for, a stricken look crosses Tabaeus's features. They take a step toward you and, to your credit, you stand your ground. "I swear to you, amata, my memories are not whole. I am not tricking you."
There was an urgent desperation in Tabaeus's words as they touched their own chest, their palm splayed wide. The look in their eyes is so full of emotions - so earnest and pained and hopeful - you can't hold their gaze. You recall the scars on their torso and chest, your stomach lurching as you remember the ones that bore a resemblance to autopsy cuts.
"All I know for certain is you drink blood and are capable of hypnotizing people if you wanted to." The words slip past softly your lips, your eyes shifting to a dark corner of the kitchen. There is so much you don't know about Tabaeus, so much they don't know about themselves. Their request to have you lay out their red flags feels so unfair.
"That is all you are certain of when it comes to me?" Tabaeus is looking for a certain answer. Hoping for a certain answer. A quick flash of memory, of the tangled mess on the floor the two of you were before the pizza arrived, sends a painful heat across your cheeks. Embarrassed, excited, mortified.
"Yes, mostly." Pain throbs through your temple and you feel the need to retreat and gather up your wits. Grabbing your plate, you turn on your heel and head toward your office. "Look, I'm hungry and you just unloaded some things I need to think about, okay?"
Leaving Tabaeus in the kitchen, not even waiting for their response, you retreat to your office.
There, you put your headphones on and put on a mindless show as you eat, hoping for a few moments of reprieve from a sudden whirlwind of emotion and information. You barely taste the pizza as your mind gnaws on other things.
What would have happened if the kiss had continued? If there had been no food delivery to interrupt it? Your thoughts spill over with imagined scenarios, making your anger-flushed cheeks burn with other emotions.
Of course, it had been interrupted. By Ewan.
Who was possibly a werewolf...
The animosity between werewolves and vampires ran deep. To the point Tabaeus seethed and said things that seemed fairly out-of-character for them. Their words were so atypical, you find your brain reminding you of the anti-vampire box. And of the journal you have yet to thumb through, which may give you insight into Tabaeus.
Tomorrow, you decide, as you chew at a pizza crust. You'll look at it tomorrow, mid-day, when Tabaeus rests.
As you eat, you catch the sound of Tabaeus's footfalls as they head downstairs, to their own barely furnished room with its large refrigerator box acting as a coffin. The two of you were planning to go to a thrift store soon, in hopes of making the area feel more lived in. You're not sure when that will happen now.
You ignore the urge to follow after them, to apologize, to reassure them, to continue the conversation. How can you reassure them when you have, once again, had your own reality turned upside down?
You are going to finish your food, you decide, then head upstairs to bed. Perhaps a solid floor between you and your vampire friend will do the both of you some good.
It will give you the space you need, as you navigate new revelations.
#exophilia#exo writing#vampire#monster lover#monster romance#monster x human#vampire x human#vampire x reader#vampires#monster boyfriend#monster datemate#room and board#room & board#room and board part 10#room & board part 10#r&b#rab#tabaeus#OH - the drama#The struggles#I really enjoyed writing Tabaeus's description of werewolves because they sound so petulant and petty lol
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HI i had a horrible dragon ball thought and thought i should send it to you because i haven't done that in a long time :(
love stumbling across screenshots that remind me that akira toriyama doesn't give a shit about canonical heights EVER and just says numbers when asked and doesn't follow said numbers.
Like i was taking a peep at the manga because i want to learn how to replicate the art style (my most serious art has already been damaged by the dragon balls i draw and i say it like... damaged. but i don't mean that i think thats a good thing because thats what i want) and i find these bits from the 23rd tenkaichi budokai where Yamcha (6'0") and Tien (6'2") are both like a head taller than Goku (5'9") which... no they aren't lol. but it's fun to think that they are so I'll incorporate that into my belief system regardless.
And i also found this one picture from the end of the anime (equally inaccurate about numbers which i find delightful. i am incredibly amused by this.) where Goten (??) is like also a head shorter than Trunks (5'7"? probably, that's how tall future him was at that age idk man who fucking knows. not me.) which would probably put Goten at like... Vegeta height in terms of dragon ball inaccuracies because 17 year old Future Trunks was depicted as being considerably taller than his father in canon.
And that's generally insane because as far as i'm aware Goten is usually depicted to be vaguely taller than Trunks when they grow up to what should be their full heights in fan works? which is fair because Trunks is REALLY doing his best with what he has (Vegeta dna)
Also about Trunk's height- future Trunks (malnourished by saiyan standards... and probably earthling standards too) is really only 5 cm shorter than Goku?? which is not even much actually, Future Trunks is about as tall as LIONEL MESSI which, sure I'm Argentinian and that's my like referent for short men sue me... but that's hilarious because Goku is only 5 cm taller than that like what. and adult Gohan is only 6 cm taller than that! because he's only a single fucking centimeter taller than Goku! why is he only a fucking centimeter taller than his father. who even cares about that. him? probably not.
Also to expand onto the Vegeta Height Goten thing, that'd be so funny personally because i feel like the second neurotic ass SON OF VEGETA Trunks notices this he would tear his own hair out, i think he would resent that fact with everything he had. i don't even quite know why he would hate it yet, but i do know that he wouldn't be a fan of it.
But of course none of this fucking matters. because akira toriyama is a bitchass motherfucker and if i had a wife he would piss on her.
-Yui7 after getting back from talking about Dragon ball and how much he misses Goku for like a half a day.
Hi I forgot about this ask and it has sat in my inbox for 9 slutty slutty days.
IT'S TRUE!!!!!! THE HEIGHTS ARE A MESS!!!!!!
To be fair it must be hard to give a shit when you're depicting multiple characters in complex scenes and poses and angles all of the time.
BUT THEN WHY TRY TO DISCLOSE NUMBERS AT ALL !??!?!??!
I get the impression that he just draws characters as they feel. Even though Goku went through a growth spurt before the 23rd tenkaichi budokai, he's still younger than the others and he's still always been an aspiring young shoot, so Tenshinhan and Yamucha still need to be taller (and therefore more mature) than him.
That's why Vegeta steadily got taller as he gained wisdom and muscle mass.... he had to look more important.
Goten is kept shorter than Trunks consistently, except in GT I feel like they're allowed to be on-par. But they're both definitely taller than Vegeta I mean come on.
If the real meaning comes from visual impressions then I'll be on record as saying that watching Future Trunks on-screen you definitely see one TALL STACK of fresh organic non-GMO free-range Super Saiyan BEEF. Perhaps he should be shorter like his father. But when have animes cared about genetics
Trunks is always a tall bitch and Goku is always so tall and Gohan is always so tall and Goten even is so tall. They're all so tall. And then they keep making Vegeta taller too.
Krillin just has no chance
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lone star: chapter two (sneak peak)
summary: eddie had packed up his things and moved to the big city, indianapolis, but when he enters the fast-growing world of the adult entertainment industry, it gets lonely.
rating: R
part one
authors note: i just want to start off by saying the reception to part one was incredibly overwhelming. all of your kind words means so so much to me, like seriously. always feel free to pop in my inbox or dm's and share thoughts with me or just chat. much love to you all.
part two will be up tomorrow! :) but for now, here's a sneak peak ;)
“I’ll have the number 5 please with apple juice.” You replied, handing her the flimsy plastic menu that she exchanged with a nod. She walked off into the back, the silver door swinging back and forth till it came to a halt.
The decor was 1950s themed, checkerboard flooring with some neon signs teasing 5 cent soda. The shiny red seats at the bar were mounted to the floor, the booths matching similarly across the rest of the place. It was charming, providing a comforting feeling of home cooked meals.
“I don’t think I’ve had the number 5 before.” Eddie spoke, your attention snapping to him as he looked at you, no clear emotion present. But then again, what kind of emotion should he be having over your choice of breakfast.
“It’s chocolate chip pancakes and bacon, don’t worry I have a toothbrush.” You jested while Veronica brought over your drinks, setting down coasters to prohibit the condensation from pooling.
The steam from Eddie’s cup rose to his nose as he put in creamer and sugar, stirring it and watching it go to a lighter shade of brown. Pulling out the spoon, he watched the small tornado within it dissipate before taking a sip, sighing at it going down his throat.
“Don’t worry about it, once had a partner eat tuna and garlic bread before a scene.” He assured, but the small smile on his lips let you laugh, placing a hand over your mouth to regain some composure.
There were some unspoken rules in your line of work. Spending your day physically with or in someone means you need to be extra cautious on hygiene, like showering with nicer body wash or putting on extra strong deodorant.
Even when you would film alone for solos, you took additional routes for cleanliness. There’s very few things more embarrassing than someone saying you smelled bad or were dirty when you were intending to be clean.
Eating tuna and garlic in one sitting is a dangerous concoction by itself, but before a shoot was a whole different type of sadistic. The pair didn’t even sound appetizing, your stomach twisting at the mere concept.
“Did she hate you?” You pondered, but he only shrugged, his Adam’s apple bobbing as he took another drink. You took one as well, wiping your dampened hand on your jeans and seeing them go from medium wash to a patch of dark denim.
“Dunno. But you’re the first adult I’ve ever seen order apple juice at a restaurant.” He pointed out, his chin resting on his knuckles looking down at your drink with confusion.
“Are you saying you don’t like apple juice?” You inquired, not being able to believe someone could dislike it. Maybe it seemed childish, but it put you at ease, caffeine would only make you more jittery.
“Not at all, it’s great.” He grinned, tucking some of his hair behind his ear, peering over his shoulder to see Veronica returning with plates of hot food.
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hi welcome to the pinned post
about me-
call me Queen or Dukes, he/him pronouns
im 25, and this blog is 18+
trans, queer
this is a fandom sideblog that I use more than my main, there's no set fandom here, I just post about whatever im currently hyperfixated on
you can find me on ao3 at dukesmulcahy, but my account requires you be logged in in order to see anything I post
I take fic requests! feel free to drop those in my inbox or in the comments on ao3. some stuff you should know about that-
there is never a guarantee ill write any of the requests actually given to me, and I won't offer a reason as to why I didnt do it. if youre concerned your message didnt go through, feel free to shoot me a message to confirm!
it can take me anywhere from 2 hours to several weeks to write so keep that mind! please feel free to check to make sure your request got through, but after that point please dont send any follow up asking about it. im more likely to get annoyed and delete the request and not do it than I am to suddenly fill it- I havent forgotten, its still there, I just haven't gotten to it for any number of reasons yet
whatever prompts I do fill out I will credit to you! I post request fills here and on ao3, so if youre on anon, please let me know if you'd like to be credited a specific way on ao3, otherwise ill just credit you as an anonymous request
I almost never write smut, please dont ask me to write smut
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Prompting is now closed! Claiming opens on December 1!
This is NOT the claiming post! The claiming post will be available on December 1!
The prompt list can be found here! A huge thank you to everyone who submitted something!
Please review the rules if you have not done so already, but here is a quick summary of some things to keep in mind:
All participants must be over the age of 18.
Just like with prompt submissions, the claiming of prompts will also be done via Airtable Form, which will become available sometime on December 1.
Prompts can be claimed once for fic and once for art. If you did not submit a prompt, you are still welcome to claim one!
***Please make sure to double check your prompt number prior to submitting your claiming form on the day of, as things have the potential to get rearranged before we get there!
There are no minimum or maximum word requirements for fic. Art needs to show a comparable amount of work and be of a decent standard. Everything must be betaed, proof-read, checked, and edited.
Once you have submitted your piece, feel free to select another one! (And I definitely encourage this, as I'd love nothing more than to see a slew of Ron/Draco goodies in my inbox! ;D)
Posting will be anonymous, so please don't give the game away by posting anywhere else, or replying to comments, or hinting on your socials until after reveals. Also, because this is an anonymous fest, the piece you submit must be a complete, stand-alone work and can't be based on any of your other works, prequels, sequels, etc.
If you have any questions/comments/concerns, please shoot me an email at [email protected]!
Your mod,
@fangqueen
#rondracofest 2023#2023 claiming#dron#ron x draco#ron weasley#draco malfoy#harry potter#hp#fanfiction#harry potter fanfiction#hp fanfiction
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RULES┊BFYI & DNI┊CHARACTER LIST
disclaimer ; as a writer i am not obligated to respond to asks if i don't want to answer them ! please do not act entitled in my inbox i will block you !
RULES ;
please have your age somewhere on your blog before interacting with me! it can be in your title or pinned post, i will block you if you don't! if you don't feel comfortable sharing your age publicly feel free to shoot me an anon ask with your age and username so that doesn't happen
after consideration i've decided this blog can be 17+ however i don't feel comfortable with minors engaging with my nsfw content ! i can't really regulate who actually consumes my content or know who lies about their age on the internet so this is my way of accepting that. i will however block minors that engage with any nsfw posts!
i write noncon, dubcon, & stepcest; these are all very triggering & i am doing it to get over my own trauma. i understand these are very triggering topics for many people & i hope you proceed carefully as you consume my content. you curate your internet experience and i set clear disclaimers on all my works.
as such i need you to understand i am not romanticizing abuse & rape and that you as a reader have to differentiate what i am writing from reality. don't come into my inbox acting as morality police you will be blocked!
DNI ;
basic dni criteria, hoyoverse dick riders ( don't get me started on sumeru defenders please block me if you think hoyo being blatantly colorist and racist is okay )
i write gender-neutral readers with occasional afab inserts in some nsfw posts. try your best not to send in highly gendered asks unless i have expressed interest in such as it makes me feel dysphoric.
i highly appreciate feedback!! i won't sugarcoat one of the reasons i abandoned @/99-nct because i wasn't getting feedback on my posts which sounds silly but it really isn't. i put out content for free and to have the likes and no reblogs is disheartening. the number of followers is insignificant to me unless people engage with my work. i want to know if you enjoyed my writing, if you didn't like it, and how can i do better ? i'm not an unfeeling robot and enjoy chatting so don't feel afraid to send in asks. i also enjoy helping people out with genshin so feel no shame in asking for advice!
CHARACTERS I WRITE FOR ;
GENSHIN
i won't write for characters like klee, diona, qiqi, sayu, nahida, or yaoyao!! i also see fischl as a minor and as such won't really write anything for her. i see the rest of the genshin cast as young adults, we may have different headcanons so don't bring age discourse on this blog. genshin purposefully keeps ages ambiguous to cater to a large audience and we all have our own interpretations of characters, and it's important to note that i see the travelers as adults and will write nsfw content of them.
current favorites ; kazuha, wanderer / scaramouche, xiao, ayato, lumine, yae miko, raiden shogun / ei, alhaitham, wriothesley, arlecchino
HONKAI STAR RAIL
i obviously will not write for characters like bailu clara and hook! i see yanqing, qingque, and lynx as teens and they don't tug my neurons so sorry, unless they act as an enabler to another relationship i won't write anything! i'm confused on pela's age ... mihoyo isn't good at keeping track of their timeline so she is off the table for now ( sorry pela enjoyers ) and i have no thoughts on arla & asta ... they are cute but i'm not interested in writing for them
current favorites ; blade, jingyuan, kafka, astral express crew, luocha, jingliu, topaz, any of the aeons ( i haven't figured out how to fuck a concept but trust when i say i will find a way ) yukong, phantylia, sampo
DON'T SEND ME ASKS WITH ;
i won't touch ddlg & age play, scat, watersports, vore, race play, beastiality, vomit, mommy / daddy, yandere! reader, or explicit pedophilia, and some others things that aren't coming to mind right now. i will probably add to this list because i occasionally get asks that make me feel uncomfortable.
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Prompting is now closed! Claiming opens on June 26!
**This is NOT the claiming post! The claiming post will be available on June 26!**
The prompt list can be found here! A huge thank you to everyone who submitted something!
Please review the rules if you have not done so already, but here is a quick summary of some things to keep in mind:
Please remember that this fest is all about crack!fic, so every story submitted must feature at least a hint of that idea. As you can see in the definition I left on our rules post, that idea is pretty broad, haha.
However, I want to be clear: you are in no way required to tag your fic as crack!fic (or any variation), either on AO3 or in your header. Throwing it back to the example of my own questionably cracky work on the rules post, I didn't label it that way, but I do know it can be viewed that way. As long as you are capturing the essence of the fun and fancy-freeness of this fest, you are good to go.
We will absolutely be accepting any written form, as crack!fic does tend to lend itself to so many different things. So poetry, letter!fic, texting!fic. We’re not accepting strictly art, but I think comics and meme!fic, etc., would still fall under “writing” - at least in my opinion. So please keep in mind, anything goes!
All participants must be over the age of 18.
Just like with prompt submissions, the claiming of prompts will also be done via Airtable Form, which will become available sometime on June 26.
Prompts may only be claimed once. This fest is fic-only, so no art, unless you want to submit it along with your fic! I'm so, so sorry to all the artists out there - I just wasn't sure how to fit it in with the theme at this time. However, this may change in the future, and I'll let you all know if it does.
***Please make sure to double check your prompt number prior to submitting your claiming form on the day of, as things have the potential to get rearranged before we get there!
There are no minimum or maximum word requirements. Everything must be betaed, proof-read, checked, and edited.
Once you have submitted your piece, feel free to select another one! (And I definitely encourage this, as I'd love nothing more than to see a slew of crack!fic goodness in my inbox! ;D)
Posting will be anonymous, so please don't give the game away by posting anywhere else, or replying to comments, or hinting on your journal until after reveals. Also, because this is an anonymous fest, the piece you submit must be a complete, stand-alone work and can't be based on any of your other works, prequels, sequels, etc.
If you have any questions/comments/concerns, please shoot me an email at [email protected]!
Your mod,
@fangqueen
#hpcrackficfest 2022#2022 claiming#crackfic#harry potter#hp#fanfiction#harry potter fanfiction#hp fanfiction
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Post about mutual aid.
TLDR i'm happy to help out in non-monetary ways. please dont send inbox messages or any time-sensitive/urgent requests, because i wont see them.
hello! i am pinning this on my blog because i just saw a bunch of messages in my inbox asking for donations or boosting. firstly, i am not a good person to ask/send those to, because i never check my inbox. besides, i honestly am not really sure how. i literally have a 20 minute daily limit on the tumblr app, so i come and look and leave.
thing number 2 is that i dont really have money to give. i know we're all living off a circular crowdfund hoping to make it to next week, and i dont mind anyone shooting their shot. just a warning that i cannot often donate (usually when I do it's because someone has just given me money specifically to donate to others. thats what i ask for as a gift typically). i dont reblog a lot of posts about MA because they make me feel panicked and guilty over not being able to contribute, although I reblog the ones that aren't pressuring. i'm setting this boundary and won't elaborate further, thank u for understanding.
however i would love to help people put if i can in other ways. you can try sending me a message and i'm slightly more likely to see it. i still dont check very often, but at least i know how.
I have lots of experience with The System and research in general. i can provide informal advice on government benefits (esp food stamps), registering to vote, getting access to your legal documents (like if they were lost/stolen or someone is controlling them), finding and affording medical care including abortion and therapy. i also have medical training, so i can provide advice (peer to peer, not professional) on treating minor stuff and telling you went to go get treatment.
i do a lot of activism around disability, healthcare, and housing (and lack thereof). i problem solve for fun and help people compulsively (like actually, it's come up in therapy). i can help you get a bus or train or plane ticket. or find community support near you. if it's not too expensive, i can probably help/find people to help pay for things, or find the right forms to fill out to get them for free.
I want to help everyone, as much as possible, all the time. its overwhelming and literally impossible, but i do what i can. for my health im setting boundaries, some visible but most not, which are just for myself. no one has ever been rude or hostile, and we're all going through it, this is not a grudge against anyone.
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