Hello, My Dear Followers

Hello, my dear followers

Seeing as I still have 10 asks I haven’t been able to properly write for, I’ve decided to start posting the ones that are already answered even if it’s not in order. I apologize if I’m not able to give good writing for everything, but I’ll let these out. 

In the meantime, Ask Box is OPEN

Everyone who complains about the translations on the miraculous ladybug Instagram posts are entitled, privileged, annoying pieces of shit. Do you know how many countries MLB is broadcasted in??? Do you know how many languages it is translated to??? EVERYTHING caters to you, everything is in English for you.

Not everyone speaks English. Not everyone can read English well enough. Let international fans be able to enjoy what their favourite characters say you piece of shit.

Taking requests

I’m officially now writing reader inserts and making headcanons for ANY fandom

Feel free to make your requests in the Ask Box, can be for male, female, or non binary/gender neutral readers!

Nothing (moral) is off limits, and you can request headcanons as well, as mentioned.

i hate these posts about how mitski is not being respected as an artist and “people don’t respect art and artists” which is true, they don’t, but these posts NEVER touch on the fact shes a woman of color with a fanbase made up largely of white women. are we seriously pretending that has no significance at all when her fans disregard and violate her feelings and opinions, oversimplify her music as “sad girl female manipulator music”, and their choice to consume her as a product rather than seeing her as an artist whos work they respect??

Late Night Discussions With An Ex Fanfic Writer...

I’ve decided to start a weekly thing where you can send questions or topics within the fanfic realm and I’ll answer them.

It can be from advice on how to get your stuff noticed, how to make writer friends or, simply, how to make your work original.

Topics can be about anything within fanfic. They can be as “scandalous” as you want, I’ll answer them honestly. What do you want to know? Are white writers too privileged even on this trash heap of an app? Are males/ gay community underrepresented within fanfic? Is the fanfic shipping community inherently homophobic?

I just think someone who has been writing fanfic for 10+ years needs to answer these questions. I’ve got a lot of opinions and advice, which I’m happy to give out.

The discussion starts now...

#exficwriteranswers

Crystallisation - Part I

Karl Heisenberg x Male Reader

Word Count: 3k+

Content Warning: Canonical Resident Evil horror

Each one of your bones felt like fragile glass about to shatter, the throbbing of your head seconds away from cracking open your skull. It was hard to breathe with the tightness of your muscles pushing down on your chest, your own skin suffocating and trapping you. It hurt too much to even begin to register the pain your body was in and for each second that passed it felt like an hour had gone by.

It was the shouting that woke you. The dull ache of your head grew and a groan escaped your lips as you made a move to sit up. Your arms threatened to give out as you pushed up to your knees, a simple task that seemed to be bordering on impossible. The floor beneath you was dirty and hard, but the coolness of the stone was a small blessing on your aching body.

Giving your eyes a second to adjust, you could see the room you had awoken in. A church or open hall of some kind. It was a tall figure you saw first, their presence looming and daunting, in front of them was a figure gesticulating wildly. Their movements were hard to follow; Trying to follow their blurry, swinging arms made your eyes ache and the burning sensation in your head grow.

"The cadou experiment failed," Their voice was feminine but authoritative and it came from the taller of the two figures. "It wasn't even able to heal a few scratches. He is worthless to us."

"He hasn't even been awake long enough to show what it's capable of-" You assumed it was the other one that spoke, this voice was gruffer and more masculine with an accent that you wouldn't be able to place even with a clear mind.

"-If he is capable of anything."

"Enough... both of you." A third voice; authoritative like the first but was more controlled and stern. It came from a figure further back in the hall and was much harder to make out with your blurry sight. "He will be disposed of, there is no further discussion."

"wait... what the fuck are you on about-" Your throat was hoarse like you hadn't drunk water in days, making your voice gravelly and scratchy. Speaking caused you to let out a few harsh coughs in order to clear the phlegm in your throat.

"Heisenberg, I trust your lycans are capable enough in taking care of it."

"To the dogs, to the dogs. Feed it to the dogs." An ugly doll in a white dress jumped across the floor, a little too excited at the thought of you being ripped apart.

"Mother Miranda, if I must-"

"Now, Heisenberg." Something shifted in your gut, an intense feeling of dread. You made your first attempt to stand as the lycans within the hall began to stir, an air of eagerness surrounding them as they jumped down from the higher ledges and beams to the floor you woke upon.

The second one to speak, Heisenberg you gathered, let out a sigh, and began to make his way over to you. The lycans were behind him, fidgeting and twitching. "I'm going to count from five and then you're going to run. Got that?"

"Heisenberg, this is no time to play your childish games." The tallest of them spoke.

"It's just a little fun for the lycans, they get restless if they don't get any excitement." He let out a chuckle. "You ready?"

There was no use in arguing, you gathered that much, so you glared. Granted it wasn't exactly going to do anything to help, but cursing the man that was about to count down to your execution was all you could do.

"Five."

Oh shit.

"Four."

You could see the doll jumping up and down again on someone's lap, while something that could only be described as an accumulative bob of flesh gave its version of a chuckle.

"Three."

Exit, need to find an exit.

"Two."

A door was behind you, but between you and it were knocked over church pews and broken rubble, getting to it would be most likely kill you and you would already be risking it by betting that the entrance was unlocked. Granted, it was your only option. The floor was beginning to swarm with lycans.

"One..."

He dragged out the last number and you didn't hesitate to bolt it before he even reached zero.

"RUN!"

*****

You were absolutely fucked.

Your pounding head and aching chest had all but been forgotten the second a wave of adrenaline had rushed over you, it was the only thing pushing you forward through the village below the church. Every turn you took you prayed it didn't lead to a dead-end, but your feet were becoming harder to carry and each step forward was almost another stumble.

A glance up and you could see some of the lycans on all fours, jumping and sprinting over the rooftops of the village houses. Some of them stopping to shout and howl to cheer on their brothers.

Correction from a previous statement; Absolutely fucked wasn't even half of it.

You crashed through two metal gates, not giving a second thought as you run into the open house to your left. You slammed the door without glancing behind you and barricaded it with the shelving next to it. if you had been a second later the lycans chasing you would have made inside with you, most likely ending your little jog into the sunset there and then.

You had minutes before they would break-in. The wood of the door frame was already beginning to splinter under the repeated banging of their weight against it. A minute to find a weapon, another to find a way out - that's all you needed.

Dust and grime kicked up around you as you searched through the two downstairs rooms of the house, climbing the stairs to the second floor to search would waste too much time. By some miracle, you found a weapon. In the tucked away cupboard by the stairs was a woodcutter's axe, probably only previously used to chop up the household's firewood however, its dull edge was better than nothing against a pack of lycans eager to tear you apart.

You had wasted too much time. The packs front leaders came crashing through the door, it was only luck that caused them to fall over themselves, giving you those few extra seconds you needed to run through the house to the back room.

Jumping through a closed window probably wasn't the smartest idea, especially while clutching an axe to your chest. The broken glass made several shallow cuts along your arms and face, but there was no time to care. In seconds you were back on your feet, pushing past the aching in your legs, hoping shouting against the protesting muscles would help.

The weight of the axe swinging in your hand felt like it gave you extra momentum to run faster and acted as a small shield as you push through thin, scraggly branches, hoping the surrounding vegetation would slow down the pack, even if was just a few extra paces between the two of you.

A correction to the previous correction; Absolutely fucked didn't even begin to scratch the surface of the towering shit pile you had found yourself in. You had run straight towards a cliff edge, beneath it a stream impossible to swim against and would most likely lead you straight into the mouth of hell.

The excited yips and howls behind you made you turn. The lycans had gathered in a semi-circle around you, blocking off any chance you had of running in the opposite direction. They began licking their lips and slobbering down their chins as they inched closer towards you. Some jumping forward just to tease you and cause you to flinch. You held up the axe with two hands and you could swear you heard the lycans laughing at you.

"Back. OFF!" You made a swing at the first lycan that charged towards you, but the exhaustion from running so long had made you slow and it dodged easily before making its own swing at you in return. Its claws ripped through both your skin and shirt, cutting across your upper torso. "FUCK!" The adrenaline had chosen that moment to wear off, the pain of the deep gashes making you light-headed from the sudden white-hot pain. They laughed again as you fell to your knees, using the axe to hold you up from completely faceplanting into the snow.

Between being torn apart and drowning, neither were good options. Although drowning did seem to be the more pleasant choice of the two.

You scrambled and threw yourself over the cliff edge, barely missing the swiping hands of the lycans. It was almost funny to hear their angry shouts before the crashing of the river water surrounded you.

*****

The freezing temperature of the water knocked the air out of your lungs and panicked instinct caused you to take a breath while your head was still fully submerged by the water. You were choking, unable to grab a clear breathe as the current took you along, repeatedly bobbing your head under the surface of the water and let you out long enough for you to cough up only some of the water before bringing you back under again.

You were fading, losing any sense of what was up or down, your left to your right. Your head was fuzzy and you could feel the water in your lungs splashing and swirling inside. It was harder to push to the surface to get air now, your arms were rocks dragging you deeper.

It was the rock that hit against your back that gave you the rush you needed to pull yourself out. It broke the current's hold it had on you and you pulled yourself up and onto the riverbank, grasping your fingers into the thick mud to drag yourself out until it was only the bottom half of your legs left in the water.

The water finally rose to the surface and you vomited it up next to you before coughing against your first clear breath. You couldn't drag yourself out any further, you could only lay with half your face in the mud as you took haggard breaths. The constant adrenaline that had been running through you now left you feeling nauseous, the splitting headache in your skull intensifying the feeling as your vision spun.

One moment it was still bright, the next it was pitch black. You swore you had only closed your eyes for a second to blink away the mud in your eyes, but now it was night.

The water from the stream was now lapping at your waist, its tide had risen a few inches over the hours you had been out cold. With how freezing it was in this godforsaken place your clothes were still soaked through from your little voyage in the river, not only chilling you further but adding extra weight for you to carry as you tried to sit up. Mud and dirt clung to your skin and shredded clothes, the water practically glueing it to you. If the blood loss from the gashes on your chest didn't kill you the infection surely would, but that was a problem for your future self to deal with.

It was hard enough pushing yourself to your knees, let alone standing. The axe in which would have provided some level of support was now long gone, either back on the cliff edge or somewhere at the bottom of the river. It had only been a small comfort for a few minutes, yet you found yourself missing it all the same.

Wrapping your arms around yourself to preserve any hint of body warmth you had left, you made your way up the small embankment outlining the river, taking it slow in hopes of not sliding back down again to where you had started. Just like before, every step was hell, but in a sense, you had become accustomed to that sensation now. Quite frankly, you had no idea what kept pushing you forward through this nightmare.

By this point, you didn't care where you were going, the building that sat on the horizon looked like heaven compared to where you were now. The looming greatness of its size was welcoming by this point and the smoke billowing out of its main tower might as well have been a cosy fireplace in a dingy forest cabin.

You could hear static from the speakers that rested on the corners of the building like the place was alive and speaking, while the land around it was dead and frozen. The feeling of relief was beginning to dissipate as you pushed on the heavy metal door that lead inside.

There was nothing else surrounding you and this was your only path forward. Each choice you made seemed to be another way to die, you were just prolonging your end. Still, if you were going to die whether it be by some monstrous psycho dog or a raging infection, you might as well be warm. And Christ was it warm inside the factory.

The building was no doubt alive in a more metaphorical sense. You could just faintly hear the sharp clanging of metal and machinery through the walls, the sound making the floor and the litter that laid on it vibrate. Oil drums, metal sheets, poles of various lengths were scattered in the corners and against the walls of the room you had found yourself in.

You grabbed one of the shorter poles that would be easiest to carry. While the pole was hollow it was also heavy, your attacks would be slow, but you could gather enough momentum within them to land a hard hit if anything was to come your way.

The first door you pushed against was locked from the other side by a deadbolt, but the door adjacent to it was unlocked and lead you down a narrow, poorly lit hallway. Grunge was one way to describe the factory, filthy was another. With such little light, you repeatedly found yourself tripping over discarded pieces of junk and metal. Each 'clang' and 'clunk' you made as something was knocked over made you grind your teeth together as if it would help dampen the sound.

Pushing open a set of double doors revealed the factory in its entirety - it was much bigger on the inside than what it appeared to be on the outside. You hadn't gone up or down any flights of stairs yet you found yourself staring down at several storeys that had been beneath the factory. It was disorientating; large pipes and vents emerged from the stone walls billowing steam and smog, large cogs turned as production conveyor belts carried along the hanging bodies-

"What the fuck?" You felt that nausea return as bile rose in your throat. Bodies, hundreds of them just dangling and swinging. Yet their shadows were wrong; their figures were distorted, chests too large and bulky compared to their much thinner legs and arm. Arm singular, one of their arms seemed to be larger and longer than the other like there was something attached to it. From this distance, they were too small to make out properly. You leaned against the balcony barrier and squinted your eyes in hopes it would help you get a better look.

The high-pitched sound of a large drill caught your attention on your left side. Through the smog from a nearby vent, you could see a dot of red light. The drilling sound picked up again, but this time twice as loud and several more red lights joined the first.

Your heart dropped to your stomach. For a moment it was a standoff, one waiting for the other to move. Despite the fog separating the both of you, there was no doubt you were staring at each other.

And again you found yourself running, not even bothering to glance at what was chasing you this time; whoever or whatever ran after you was large by the sound it made on the metal walkway.

You were so tired of running. Your legs were protesting against you to just stop and your lungs felt like fire due to the constant abuse and sharp breaths. You couldn't keep doing this.

Just fuck it.

Gripping the metal pole in your hand you turned and charged at what was behind you. The pole impaled straight through the chest of the not-quite-human figure, missing the very important looking light the rest over its heart. On any other occasion, what you had done would have disgusted you, but with your mind running a hundred miles a minute, it couldn't process anything.

One moment your hands were splattered with blood that wasn't your own, the next you were on the floor after being kicked down by whatever you had just run through. This time you weren't getting back up on your own.

"What the fuck are you idiots doing?" That voice from earlier, what was his name again? "Christ, looks like you've been through hell." There was something akin to amusement in his tone but easily turned to annoyance. Whether that annoyance was directed at you or someone else you couldn't tell.

Heisenberg, that was his name, the one with a funny accent you couldn't seem to place. He crouched in front of you, appearing to be examining you, shifting your shirt with the tips of his gloved fingers to get a better look at the wound that the lycan had made. That felt like forever ago now.

"Well, could be worse... you could be dead. The fact that you've made it this far is impressive though." Heisenberg grabbed one of your wrists before standing back up and pulling you along against the floor, the tension it caused against the gash on your chest caused you to let out a hiss from the pain. "Time to go."