Hello! Welcome, please excuse the mess. Have a seat and stay awhile while I introduce myself!
🖤🩶🤍💜
Ashley//Ascher ▫️She/they ▫️writer▫️editor
I don't write a ton on AO3 at the moment, but you can find all of my oneshots and WIPs here
My TikTok is probably where I am most active, and houses my edits of Nalec and my current running AU of Nolan, Theo, and Alec as roommates. You can find that here :))
🖤🩶🤍💜
Fandoms~
Teen Wolf (especially the puppy pack and Nalec), Psych, Stranger Things, Marvel, Spider-Man, Markiplier, :Dropout, Merlin, and more!
I LOVE talking about them, so if any of them are interesting to you, I'd love to yap about them. I also do moodboards, so if you have any requests, I'd love a good excuse to hyperfixate on a character or show for a while haha
moodboard: asexual alec gonzalez + demisexual lori rohr
Honoring Day 5: Queer Joy of @puppypackweek.
It's All Ace
Words: 4,386
Content/Tags: Fluff, coming out, sex-averse asexuality (and teens not knowing the right terms for things but having their hearts in the right place)
↳ Read on ao3
It is verging on hour three of Alec staring at the ceiling of Scott’s old room and agonizing over the logistics and social implications of rejecting a kiss, when he decides that enough is enough and he whips out his phone to pester Theo at two in the morning about it.
Alec: hypothetically would it be normal to get punched in the face for refusing a kiss
Theo’s reply is embarrassingly immediate. Not embarrassing for Alec, but for Theo.
man of la pichancha 🐀: Who the fuck is kissing you at two in the morning.
Alec’s brow scrunches.
Alec: why tf are u up at 2am ?
man of la pichancha 🐀: Reminiscing old times.
Worrying about the future problems of reckless shits like you.
Let’s get back to you and whoever’s kissing you at two in the morning.
Forcefully, I might add.
Alec: literally noone is kissing me forceflluy
noone is kissing me at all
which is why i said HYPOTHETICAL
man of la pichancha 🐀: Then why the fuck are you bothering me about something hypothetical.
Alec: bc!! i could get punched!!!
man of la pichancha 🐀: And what does kissing or not kissing have to do with that?
Alec: exsqueeze me??
man of la pichancha 🐀: I’m just saying, you have a very punchable kind of face. So regardless of kissing, the random punching at two in the morning is still on the table.
Alec: projection ain’t a good look on u raeken
and u never answered what u doing up at 2am
man of la pichancha 🐀: You woke me up.
Alec: ik for a fact ur ringer is off
u have been awake dont even deny it
what is lying next to the love of ur life not enough
man of la pichancha 🐀: Liam is not the love of my life.
He brings Cinnamon Toast to bed to snack on and leaves the box open on his nightstand.
Alec: and yet youre still around
case and point
man of la pichancha 🐀: Look, I would actually like to go to sleep. Could you just explain your vague ass about this kissing business and be done with it?
Without hesitation, Alec hits the ‘call’ button on his screen. Theo, the bitch, lets it ring out eight times and go to voicemail. And because he’s a somewhat dubitably reformed psychopath, his voicemail box isn’t even set up after thirteen whole months of being out of hell.
Alec hangs up and then calls Theo right back, just for the principle of being a pest about this. Theo finally answers on the third ring, his voice gravelly as he hisses out an irritated greeting in some echoless space.
“Warn a guy next time before calling.”
“You sound like you’re squished inside a roll of insulation,” Alec whispers.
“Maybe that’s because I am,” Theo grouses. There’s some shuffling on his end, a series of muted thumps discernible only to Alec’s supernatural hearing, and then the return of Theo’s voice with more clarity as he brings the speaker closer to his mouth.
“Where are you?”
“In the closet.”
“Ha, ha,” Alec says, because it’s his G-d-given mission to torment the souls of smug sewer rats. “How does Liam feel about that?”
“I’m in the linen closet. Fucking underdeveloped wood roach. Who’s trying to kiss you?”
“No one! I told you this already!”
“So why are you even worried about it?”
“Because!” Alec pulls his knees up to his chest under the covers and doubles over, groaning in teenagerly agony.
“Contrary to popular but misguided belief, I am not a mind reader. You lot just had no brain cells when I came to town,” says Theo. “So? Because what?”
“Becaaaauuse,” Alec whines. He draws a deep breath and rushes out, all in one go, “Because me and Lori have been talking and I think I might like her a little bit, like a normal amount, like actually a lot-a lot.”
Theo lets out a sigh that honestly belongs in the regular vocabulary of a Catholic grandmother with a martyr complex.
“And?” Theo prompts him. “Has she asked to kiss you?”
“No! But she might. You never know!” Alec worries at his thumbnail with his teeth. “I mean, actually, I do know, because I’m pretty solidly sure she likes me back.”
“Unfortunately, I have to agree with you. No one would willingly go gazing for made-up alien space ships with you, otherwise.”
“You came up to join me in the UFO-gazing,” Alec reminds him huffily.
“I thought you were being torn to pieces by hunters,” says Theo. “Otherwise, I would’ve stayed home in my nice, warm bed, probably getting to talk to Dunbar and…engage in similar activities.”
“Eww. Ew, ew, ew.”
“What? I literally used the most euphemistic phrasing possible.”
“Exactly. It doesn’t matter how you say it, that’s just disgusting.”
“No one’s forcing you to imagine anyone’s dick around another dick,” Theo says sulkily.
Alec has to take an actual moment to place his head between his knees and breathe deeply. He’s long been the joking cockblocker in the puppy pack’s group chat, jesting about his virgin eyes and calling out, minor present. But the truth is, if he could just scrub his eyes and ears with a multi-herb concoction to purge from them forever the images or memories of literally anyone hooking up around him, he would. Sometimes, if he thinks about it all a little too seriously, his stomach rolls and his extremities succumb to an unpleasant tingle.
Mouth open and lungs dragging in air noisily, Alec manages to stammer out as much to Theo.
Silence falls on the other end of the line. “Oh,” says Theo after a long time. “Oh. I didn’t…realize that’s what you were feeling this whole time.”
“S’okay,” Alec chokes out.
More silence stretches uneasily between them.
Rushing to fill the quiet and to regain some semblance of direction and control in this conversation, Alec points out, “So you see why I might be freaking out a little bit about the prospect of Lori trying to kiss me in the near future?”
“‘Freaking out’ would be an understatement,” Theo remarks. “You breathing? You got a bottle of water there or something?”
“Yes, dad,” Alec wheezily sasses him. Truth be told, he doesn’t keep a water bottle on his nightstand, but tonight is as good a night as any to start building the healthy habit. He slithers off the mattress, wrapping the throw blanket around himself, and pads into the kitchen in the dark to search for a disposable bottle of spring water in the fridge.
Theo does take the obvious opening to rib him for lying about the water bottle—he may be on the straight and narrow path right now, but no one ever said he didn’t make habitual detours toward his bitchy ways of old—but then he switches tack, telling some incomprehensible story about an interaction with David Geyer from the other day in that invariably flat voice of his that he gets when he’s trying to communicate something he's secretly fond of. Alec picks up bits and pieces as he gulps down his drink and breathes: something about a misplaced patient specimen, something-something, Theo suggesting less than legal means to resolve the issue, Liam being unimpressed, Theo being sure Jenna would actually be impressed with his creative genius, the works.
By the time Alec crawls back into bed, fully hydrated and his body warm and fuzzy from the drone of Theo’s subpar storytelling skills, he has just about forgotten about his earlier meltdown over the notion of Lori Rohr, freckled and gap-toothed and mischievous goddess of his dreams, trying to plant one on him in the future.
—
The next morning, a sheaf of printed papers, folded lengthwise in half, mysteriously appears inside the laptop sleeve of Alec’s backpack. Alec discovers them as he’s rooting around for his iPod during break at his summer job at Just Chillin’, the froyo place a few miles from home. As he leafs through the stack, though, his once-eager smile drops into a grimace.
“I am not,” Alec announces snootily when Theo pulls up in his truck several hours later, “a fucking hermaphrodite.”
“You could be a stalagmite, for all I care. It’s all the same to me,” Theo says through the fully closed passenger window, unimpressed. As Alec clambers into the passenger seat with a glower, Theo twirls his finger in an impatient motion for him to shut the door as quickly as possible. That’s the only way he will ever admit to willingly turning on the air conditioning for Alec or Liam—if he gets to bitch and scowl about it the whole drive through.
“Seriously. I didn’t ask for a stack of handouts about sexual diversity.” Alec’s nose wrinkles deeply. “I asked for advice, which clearly you suck at.”
“I spent two whole dollars printing that shit at the library,” Theo complains. He even flicks up two fingers demonstratively. “Two. I paid ten cents a page for the colored printer so you could read the diagrams clearly.”
“What diagrams? The ones about the effects of domestic violence and sexual trauma? Or the ones where you straight up accuse me of having a gastrointestinal disorder?”
“You practically heaved up your guts on the phone last night,” is Theo’s lousy defense of the latter article he printed out.
“I do not have a gastrointestinal disorder! I could outeat any of you fuckers in an eating contest of any kind, any day!”
“That’s not—”
“And I was never a witness to domestic violence or sexual trauma! Like, that’s literally what’s wrong with me! Nothing happened and yet I feel like a fucking hamster in a cage at the mere thought of people touching each other. Much less touching me.”
“Um,” is Theo’s eloquent reply. “Right.”
“Ugh,” Alec groans, long and loud and obnoxious, “you’re the worst gay guru ever.”
“Hey. I never asked to be gay. And literally no one endorsed me to be a great teacher, ever.”
“Ughhh.” Alec thumps his head back against the headrest and continues to groan vociferously.
In the tense silence, Theo’s heartbeat remains stolid in its rhythm. The only telltale sign of his nerves is the offbeat tap of his thumb on the edge of the steering wheel.
As they roll through a yellow light, Alec grumbles, “I know you were trying to be helpful.”
Theo clears his throat softly and doesn’t respond.
By the time they hit the intersection with the eyecatching and wildly overgrown apricot mallow blooms, Alec sighs and concedes: “I guess ‘hermaphrodite’ is a pretty cool word.”
“It has a ring to it,” Theo rejoins without a pause, the sounds spilling out of his mouth as though he were just waiting for this final signal from Alec that tentative forgiveness is on the horizon.
“Totally not me, though.”
“No. I know. I was erring on the side of thoroughness.”
“I have a single set of, uh, pretty typical genitals.”
As straight as Alec attempted to keep his face while declaring this, Theo’s visage spasms. “I haven’t eaten yet. Do me a favor and do not go yelling in my face about your genitals again.”
“Now you know how it feels,” Alec mutters under his breath.
—
After the well-meaning but decidedly disastrous attempt on Theo’s part to parse what’s wrong with Alec, the latter makes no plans to share this aspect of his personhood with anyone else in the pack. In fact, as he chews on all the feelings of consternation and overwhelm that surface following that trainwreck of a conversation with Theo, Alec purposely avoids his more perceptive packmates, particularly Mason and Corey, who are irritatingly adroit at reading him when they should be off somewhere sucking face.
And so he decides to stick to Liam’s side for the better part of a week.
Considering the pack’s suspicions of Liam’s lingering resentment toward Alec for daring to ride in the passenger seat of Theo’s truck when the former is not around, Liam accepts Alec’s presence that week about as gamely as could be expected. He lets the younger boy loll about the garage of the Geyer residence while he tinkers with his bike, and even offers him a dark chocolate Klondike bar from the freezer when the brain fog from the searing July heat becomes too much.
But as oblivious as Alec was counting on Liam to be, he’s committed a key oversight: Alec has no control over his scent or facial expressions whatsoever.
“Dude,” Liam exclaims as he walks back out onto the porch to where Alec is lying on his back and panting like a dog under the patio ceiling fan.
“Dude, what?” Alec retorts.
“Dude, you stink.”
“It’s fucking barbecue season. What else were you expecting?”
“No, I mean—your chemosignals. You smell like”—Alec thinks at once, with a vicious thump of his heart, that he’d very much rather not hear what he smells like, but Liam is about to tell him anyway—“teen angst. And that’s coming from me, like, the king of emotional bullshit, so trust me. You smell like teen angst to the max.”
Alec has nothing to say to that except to shovel the rest of Jenna’s fine selection of trashy sugar ice pops in his mouth and groan while banging the back of his skull against the wood floor of the porch.
“You…wanna…talk about it?” Liam ventures. Even his voice sounds like the embodiment of a grimace. “Or…I mean…should we talk about it?”
“I don’t wanna kiss Lori,” Alec blurts out, because he can’t ever go a day without escalating from zero to a hundred in five seconds flat.
“Um—wh—” Liam visibly does the math, and then attempts some convoluted calculus in his head while he’s at it. “Then don’t?”
“But she’s gonna kiss me,” Alec laments.
“Sorry?” Liam says. He’s really gunning for the Guiness record for world’s most unsure-sounding unofficial alpha.
“I don’t know what to do when she asks to kiss me,” Alec intones to the patio ceiling.
“Hold on, hold on—did she tell you she wants to kiss you?”
“No. But we’re definitely headed in that direction,” Alec says glumly.
Liam takes one look at the crestfallen face of the younger boy, paired with the wildly conflicting scent of lovesick yearning wafting off him, and officially gives up. He steps gingerly over Alec’s legs to reach the stairs and lower himself onto his butt onto the first step.
Liam heaves a single sigh, takes a gigantic chomp out of his ice cream sandwich, and starts grinding the snack between his molars with audible determination. “You’re gonna have to rewind from the top, dude, because last I heard, you were head over heels for Lori.”
And so, interspersed with more entries from his arsenal of teenagerly groans, Alec rewinds.
“So.” Liam blinks into the middle distance at the end of it all. “To recap: you like Lori. She likes you. You guys are both, like, way into each other, romantic-style. You got a job to save up so you could take her on dates. She sends you UFO data and makes you crocheted mittens. In the middle of June, but whatever. And…you think next time there’s a high chance she’s going to kiss you?”
“Yes,” Alec hisses.
“Um…congratulations?”
“No, I should say congratulations to you, for being the worst bi guru ever.”
“Hold the fuck up, why don’t you want to kiss her?”
“Because! Just thinking about it makes me break out in hives! Also, human spit is weird.”
Liam’s brow furrows as he eyes the little pool of melted ice cream in the center of his paper wrapper, as though contemplating for the first time the weirdness spectrum of his saliva mixed therein.
“Sooo…” Liam drags out the vowel. “Have you…I don’t know, considered telling Lori how you feel about kissing?”
Alec ogles him like he’s just claimed to know the day of Christ’s second coming.
“Suuuure,” says Alec. “No problem, Mr. I Would Rather Sext My Man Every Day and Wait Until He Crawls Under a Table at a Christmas Party Than Talk to Him.”
“Hey! Do as I say, not do as I do the do.” Liam cocks his head. “Or was the expression…”
“I can’t just tell Lori I’m disgusted by the thought of her kissing me!”
“Why not? Last time Theo threw his black boxers into the white load, I told him to meet me at the courthouse so I could marry him and then very publicly divorce him in front of all his enemies in Beacon County.”
“Okay, you and Theo are a statistical outlier and should not be considered the gold standard for communication.”
“But you gotta admit it’s not that different. Couples don’t have to agree on everything!”
“I don’t know, Liam, I’d think that disagreeing about the merits of kissing is a pretty fucking fundamental difference in my situation!”
“I literally don’t know how to help you, then!” Liam yells. And, oh, they’ve both been hollering at each other and growing red in the face while they’ve been at it. Liam palpably works to thrust away the gold from his eyes and regain his composure. “Look, she knows you’ve put all this effort into giving her time and attention, and you’re even working to be able to afford to take her places. I’d think you’ve pretty solidly established your intentions. What’s the worst she can possibly do if you say you’re not so into the hot and heavy stuff? Punch you in the face?”
Alec stares at him for a long moment. Then his bottom lip trembles, and he slaps both hands over his face and wails, “That’s exactly what I told Theo!”
—
brain cell loan officer 🧠: Don’t hate on Liam for telling me, but that guy could literally not keep even a secret wart on his armpit away from me
And he was really stressed and kind of guilty for not being able to help you with your situation more
Long story short, I got some version of your sitch from him. And my conclusion is: you gotta talk to Lori
Alec: why do u guys always have to gang up on meeee
—
Alec is busy closing up shop in anticipation of the afternoon’s forecast of rain when Lori rolls up across the gravel parking lot on her purple Huffy bike.
“Sounded like there was a fire going on,” she says, her grin toothy as ever, as she hops off and walks her bike up to the counter of the kiosk. “What was so important that I had to come over right now?”
“Ah. Ah, this,” Alec says, panicking and skipping from plan A all the way to Plan H. He picks up the small paper cup laden with a large twist of pink froyo. “Taste test?”
“Ohh, is this one of those special flavors they let you invent?” Lori rubs her hands together and accepts the cup and tiny wooden spoon with a sparkle of excitement in her eyes. She takes a bravely sized bite and licks the spoon, still smiling, when the flavor suddenly hits her tastebuds and she freezes.
Alec grimaces. “Too much?”
She shakes her head. To her credit, she has a remarkable poker face for someone her age. She places the cup gingerly on the edge of the counter and makes a show of rolling the yogurt around on her tongue. “Something about it is…hot?”
“Chili, yeah.” Alec rubs the back of his neck. “Strawberry chili.”
When Lori hesitates a beat too long, Alec says hopefully, “Do I at least get points for creativity?”
She serves him a flat look. “Come on. You could have at least named it ‘Berry Hot.’”
Alec snaps his fingers. “Dang it!”
“Or ‘Hot to Go.’”
“Not as strong, but good suggestion.”
“Oh! What about…what was that really cool noir movie we saw last month? Oh, yes. ‘Kiss Me Deadly.’”
If Alec weren't so deathly afraid of divine retribution as a born Catholic, he would be cursing G-d for steering all his conversations toward the unavoidable source of all his troubles.
“Hey, Lori?” His voice warbles.
She clocks it instantly. “What's up?”
“I didn't actually text you to come over so I could force feed you some fugly-tasting yogurt.”
“I didn't think so,” she says wryly. “Nice try, though.”
As she crosses her arms and leans closer to him over the counter, he notes that she's wearing a rather fetching black choker on her neck and a random blue padlock around the belt loop of her shorts. And her face smells like cherry, because her lips are glossed over with a shiny and rather appealing berry-scented product.
And her hair is all done up in those cutesy blonde space buns that she knows he adores to the high heavens and back.
She leans even closer, and Alec’s mind blanks. His fight-or-flight instinct kicks in. Or, scratch that: his instinct for fight, flight, or fucking foot-in-the-mouth idiocy overtakes him.
“Don't!” he yelps. “Don't kiss me!”
She startles back so badly that her knee bangs against the metal wall of the kiosk. “Ow, shit! I wasn't going to kiss you! I was trying to get in under the awning because it's starting to rain.”
“Are you okay?”
She's nursing her knee more for show than anything else. “Yeah. I've had worse.”
“You should come around back so I can let you in.”
He barely waits for a response in the affirmative, but instead whirls and scurries off in the purported direction of the back entrance.
She meets him there and steps up inside the circle of his arm where he's outstretched it to hold the door open. “Why did you think I was going to kiss you?”
“Because,” Alec says miserably. Neither of them are really moving off the threshold and out of the rain, and the warm droplets are starting to flatten his curls against his forehead. “I thought you've been dropping hints lately. And then the flavor name you came up with—and then you leaned forward…”
Her own blonde bangs are quickly getting plastered against her brow. Her upper front teeth, the ones with the charming gap between them, chomp down on her bottom lip.
“I would never kiss you without asking you first,” she confides.
“Great,” Alec says with false cheer. And then, since he's already fallen three feet into the hole and might as well shovel the rest of the three feet downward: “And what if you asked and I could never say yes?”
She blinks. “Oh.”
In the beat of terrible awkwardness, Alec wiggles the handle of the door in his hand. “You should get out of the rain.”
“You, too,” she says, and steps inside, crowding him unconsciously toward the freezers.
Just as the heavy door swings shut, the industrial roof overhead patters like a thousand tiny hooves on pavement with the impact of the summer storm brewing. A low boom, warm and pleasantly distant from their cocoon, rolls through the sky.
“It's okay,” Lori says at last. There's a weird combination of curiosity and relief at once on her face. “It's okay, if you never said yes if I asked if I could kiss you.”
Alec blinks dumbly. “It is?”
“Yeah. That's—what, an occasional thing with asexual people, right?”
“With what?”
A very brief and slightly comical flash of horror darts across her face. She schools it quickly, though, and then says with that freckled smile that keeps him up at night: “Asexual people. Or ace, for short. You don't all like the physical stuff with your partners, right? I mean, I'm not trying to generalize, because Mr. Jimenez said in sex ed that sometimes ace people are indifferent or not sex-averse. But some are. It sounds like you're closer to the last group, right?”
Alec couldn't formulate a coherent response even if he tried. All that is running through his head right now is that Lori Rohr, all five-foot-three of her and her snap-quick mind and guilelessly accepting spirit and funky alien-loving self, is standing in front of him and saying that he's okay.
“Oh, gosh. I think…I might have overestimated how much you know about that term,” she jokes awkwardly as her eyes search his.
He nods once, twice, jerkily.
“That's okay,” she says softly, brightly. “Sometimes labels are weird. Like, I'm not gonna run away if someone said they wanted to hook up, but also, like…hello? Let's get to know each other for a couple months first, at least? And, honestly, I could probably go without all that and not feel like we have to build up to it. I'm not even saying ‘we’ as in you and me, I'm just saying me and whoever I'm dating. Like, as a general rule. But yeah…you and I are dating right now, so the same situation applies.”
After she runs out of breath following her spiel, she glances up at him from beneath her lashes with a now naked anxiety written in the pinkness of her cheeks.
Alec loves her. He really, suddenly, overwhelmingly, hair-tearingly loves her.
“Are you?”
She bites her lip coyly. “Am I…?”
“Ace. Are you ace, too?”
She shrugs. “I could be. Somewhere in the gray area, at the very least. But yeah, the word feels right for me. You?”
His face erupts in a grin so sudden it splits his lip. He feels the blood well up and couldn't give less of a shit. He's smiling more widely than he has in years.
“I think so. Probably. Yeah,” he says. “I'm…ace.”
And she's okay with it. She's okay with it, his heart sings. And she is, too.
“Great. That's great!” Lori says, all bedraggled cuteness that he could smother. “Or should I say…”
“No. No, don't you dare—”
“—It’s all ace?”
“I'm going to invent a froyo flavor that will have you questioning your life choices,” he promises her.
She erupts in that ugly honking laughter that besotted him the very first time they met. He joins in, and it’s infectiously loud and obnoxious. Every time their laughter peters off, they make eye contact again, and another round sets off until they’re wiping imaginary tears from their eyes.
“Wait,” Alec wheezes suddenly. “Wait, wait, wait. You said we’re dating?”
College Nolan (HEAR ME OUT) I feel he would be an English or chemistry nerd, so he’d spend most of his nights studying for his chem exams but he’d also play lacrosse too not only that he’d be a werewolf HEAR ME OUT he got bit by Scott.
An Archive of Our Own, a project of the
Organization for Transformative Works
With his first full moon rapidly approaching, Alec tries to convince his friends that he needs to be locked in a basement, instead of going on the planned run through the Preserve with his pack. Unfortunately for him, no one is listening.
If Alec hears "you'll be fine" one more time, he's going to start screaming.
Excerpt:
"I don't even have an anchor," Alec bemoaned. "I'm doomed."
"I can be your temporary anchor," Theo suggested. "I'm very good at stopping feral werewolves from killing people, aren't I, Liam?"
"He once knocked me out five times to stop me from killing Nolan!" Liam said cheerfully.
I made 2 for this prompt! A moodboard and an edit. (Is the Moodboard to balance out the angst? The world may never know)
Nolan will always be a little Solitaire coded to me, but especially with this quote.
~
Ever since I heard this line (in Markiplier's Iron Lung!) I knew I had to edit it with Alec. He's such a momma's boy, to me, and I can't stop thinking about the idea that he doesn't pray to any god. He calls to his mom. Because more than anything, he believes that his mom has always looked over him, and that's still true. It has to be.
(Also, there's something about this quote that does something to my heart. Can you imagine him begging his mom to protect the Pack? Begging her to protect his new family because he believes that it matters more than he does?)
"When Starfleet Academy is reopens for the first time since The Burn, Theo, Liam, Mason, Alec, and Hayden all find themselves as cadets."
~~~
Okay, so originally I was just gonna do the writing prompt, but I got so invested in this crossover that I just had to make a moodboard. Somehow, this is the first crossover I've ever written and I had so much fun
Could you imagine making your own movie, making like 20 million dollars, and then going “awesome, now to install a DVD duplicating machine in my house and personally burn copies by hand like a medieval monk preserving sacred texts”
Like I need people to understand the mental image here of a multimillionaire internet creator personally overseeing DVD production in his own house like he’s running an underground bootleg operation out of a basement in 2007.
It’s weirdly charming because there’s something very “old internet” about it, this energy of “I made a thing, and now I will physically hand it to people myself like an artisan at a craft fair.”
The man really said: “The future of cinema is me standing next to a humming disc burner at 2am”
And like... I can't help but believe he's onto something
Love across enemy lines is serious, knock-your-teeth-out, betray-your-pack business. That's exactly why Corey "the Chameleon" Bryant would never breathe a word to anyone in the Chimeras gang that he's secretly seeing Mason Hewitt, the golden boy and brains of the Triskelions. Little do they know that the very leader of the Chimeras, Theo "the Ripper" Raeken, is shacking up with Liam Dunbar, second-in-command of the Triskelions. And unbeknownst to all of them, Theo's deputies Tracy "the Serpent" Steart and Hayden "the Knockout" Romero have been keeping up with all the gossip with Lori Rohr from the other side, and they're all extremely unimpressed by the gay idiocy.
Honoring Day 1: Crossovers of @puppypackweek's visual prompts.
I have strong feelings about Alec being superhero coded for reasons why I can't quite explain, so I wanted to do something for him! Most of his fanfics have him being chaotic and sassy, so he fits Spider-Man
DAY 1 of the @puppypackweek
visual prompt: crossover
bard!gwen
➵ there is something ancient about a bard- something that sits just beneath the skin of ordinary life and hums with a terrible power. they cannot be coerced, perhaps because they themselves are the manipulators- the most dangerous presence in any room. all they must do is open their mouth with a single song, and the air shifts like weather, minds softening like candlewax. it is a gift that has made them one of the most hunted creatures in the supernatural world- sought out and pursued for the way power bends toward them.
➵ the hunters who track them know that a creature capable of rewriting a person's will with nothing but a melody is a creature that must be eradicated. so the bards have learned to be careful- letting the world believe they are unremarkable, human, passing through without consequence. but no one can stay hidden forever- not when the ones you love are disappearing, and you are the only one who remembers they ever existed.
