hii!! I'm Kat (she/they), I'm a budding artist and writer, I'm on Ao3 (<- Link) as well! I'm very multi-fandom and I hope you enjoy my work! My pfp is my own artwork! (El from Mr Robot) Requests (fanfic or fanart) are open! xx
★ are beside ones I'm super active in at the moment, ☹ are beside ones I rarely post for
A Series of Unfortunate Events ☹
Divergent ☹
Enola Holmes ☹
Firefly ★
Grishaverse ★
Harry Potter ☹
Hogwarts Legacy ★
Hunger Games/Panem Universe (Including BOSAS and SOTR) ★
IT Crowd ★
Keeper of the Lost Cities ☹
Mr Robot ★
My Hero Academia ☹
Night at the Museum ★
One of Us is Lying (book series) ★
Spiderverse ☹
Stardew Valley ★
The Devil in Me, The Dark Pictures Anthology ★
The Legend of Zelda ★
Undertale/Deltarune ★
Until Dawn ★
Wandersong ★
Whiplash ★
I'll probably add more as I think of them so feel free to request one I haven't listed, I might know it. <3
What I won't write: any kind of dubcon/noncon/rape/etc. You are allowed to request anything else; I'll be very clear about what I will or will not write/draw. If I tell you that I am uncomfortable fulfilling your request and you are rude, sorry, but I'm not doing it! And you will be blocked/shut down.
Rules for my blog!
BE RESPECTFUL OF EVERYONE
I am a queer (pansexual) cisgender girl with Indigenous heritage, and I'm spiritual (not atheist but no clear religion), I love crystals and nature, and playing jazz, making art, and writing!
If you aren't an ally of the LGBTQIA2S+ community (and you're disrespectful about it) or you're homophobic, transphobic, racist, sexist, etc, basically if you can't be RESPECTFUL of the content of this blog or the identity of the author or interact with the blog in a KINDLY MANNER, you WILL be blocked, removed, deleted, etc
Please don't be weird, mean, or creepy.
I'm just a small artist and writer trying to share my work and make the Internet a better, kinder, safer place for EVERYONE
My requests are OPEN, but I'm a non profit artist and author! I don't take money for commissions or requests and I will do requests for free as long as you are RESPECTFUL AND KIND
Fun fact: I'm a budding jazz musician and improviser/soloist! <3
can someone PLEASE, PLEASE PLEASEEEEE GIVE ME A FLUFFY FIC. I recently played Until Dawn (not the remake, unfortunatelyI'll explain why I'm upset about that later)) and I am in desperate need of a fluff, NO SMUT, established relationship fic with reader and Josh.
POSSIBLE SCENARIO- Anniversary of his sisters deaths and he's having a hard time at the cabin, so you're there to comfort him (with a possibility of dark!reader who's helping Josh with his prank!)
Or something idfk i barely write as is—
WRITERSSSSS!!!!! DROP THIS AND MY LIFE, IS YOURSSSSSD
Second person POV but from Josh's perspective! slight angst and lots of fluff. I'm sorry I didn't do the dark!reader because I had no idea how to interpret that or incorporate it into the story.
Ao3 link if you prefer it
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Bleeding Hearts
Josh was in his head again. He'd woken with a sudden pain in his chest so sharp it had brought tears to his eyes. Not that it mattered, the tears would have come eventually.
He doesn't know what brought him back to the cabin. For some reason, the towering pines of Blackwood were calling his name. Or maybe it was spirits long past. His sisters had been gone for... how many years now? Two, or was it three? No, it was definitely two. He hated that he was starting to forget, the exact details slipping away, the memories hazy at best. Maybe that was the alcohol, but it still made his chest tight after all these months. The last time he ever saw Hannah and Beth healthy and happy was that damn party. And he'd been too wasted to stand up on his own.
It's cold out here, which, duh. But the frost is biting at his skin as he navigates the path to the Washington Cabin, and he buries his face deeper in his scarf to block out the wind that's dead set on freezing his nose clean off. It's a miracle that he's still able to return here. Safety and all, with the vicious, bloodthirsty Wendigos roaming the mountain. The sad, sick, lonely Wendigos who used to be people left to starve. Hannah.
The authorities claim that all Wendigos have been effectively removed from the mines. With the help of Jack Fiddler's notebook and the knowledge his friends had gathered─ex friends, that is, unless-
Well, whatever. Josh shuts down that painful train of thought before it can reach his eyes. The tears would probably freeze on his face before reaching the snowy ground anyway.
Officially, at least, the mountain is Wendigo-free. But he can feel the spirit lurking here. It's still drifting through the trees, trying to defend its land. Josh understands. He can be defensive of the few good things in his life too.
That brings his mind to you, and a flutter tickles inside his chest despite his mournful mood. He's still searching for the elusive good deed he must've somehow done by accident, to result in being blessed by you.
It was easier to rely on you than Sam. Aside from the fact that Sam refused to speak to him in the same fashion as the rest of his old group, aside from Chris, a fact he was dearly grateful for. But Sam has been so... involved with everything. It was hard to look at her and not see Hannah by her side. You were someone without much ties to his past, but close enough in his bubble to feel safe. A cousin of Chris's who was of the same age, someone he'd met every so often, fleeting memories of happier times with Chris beside him.
Josh had harboured a crush on you for years, dating back all the way to his early awkward teenage years, he can remember that. Mostly because Chris had been disgusted and he'd been wary of losing the friendship over a brief infatuation, so he'd stuffed the feeling down. He ignored his racing pulse and sweaty palms and heated cheeks on the rare occasion he did see you. He flirted extensively with anybody else, which gave him the reputation of a player, if he was being totally honest. And he'd decided that he was okay with that. And that "brief infatuation" never really went away.
In a stroke of absolute luck, you'd come to visit Josh after the whole fiasco last year with Chris. He'd mentioned to Josh that you were halfway through a psychology degree in university, which Josh had no idea about. His short time at university studying the same major had been rocky. The classes were interesting and he felt good doing what he was interested in, and he wanted to help people who struggled like he did. But the burn out had got him in the end.
You and Chris were two of a very small group of people who still treated him relatively normally after everything he'd done. It didn't take long for you to start coming by on your own, and for his gnarled, fragile heart to react to you once more. He wasn't convinced the feeling had ever really gone away. It had been a bit of total shock to him that you reciprocated his shy, nervous advances. It may have taken longer than it would have in the past; his old confidence when it came to flirting and romance had never really been useful when conversing with you, and now it had deserted him completely in the face of your beauty and kindness.
Chris had gotten over it when you and Josh finally began to date... eventually. He'd mostly been miffed that Josh hadn't told him sooner, but it hadn't taken much to get him on board. Josh did have to promise him that he wouldn't stop hanging out with him, just bros, but Josh didn't find that promise difficult to make in the slightest.
The keys almost fall out of his frozen fingers as Josh fumbles with the lock and stumbles into his house. Even being in the place, cold still nipping at his cheeks, makes his eyes sting. He blinks away the rapid wave of debilitating grief and slams the door to block out the cold.
Josh still wasn't quite sure why he'd asked to have the cabin repaired after everything it had been through. Guilt was probably a part of it, he'd spend a lot of time in the last year chugging away at some useless job, because he'd insisted that the money for the repairs come out of his own wallet. It was a mild price to pay for the damage he'd done. Not just physical, but emotional too.
His knees buckle and Josh slides down the wall to sit on the floor against the entrance, curling in on himself to keep warm as the sobs start. He dimly registers that the heater needs to be turned on, or he's going to become a popsicle, but it still takes nearly all his effort to force himself off the floor and into the basement. Going through the motions to flip on the heater and the boiler brings memories to the surface and he has to choke back an embarrassing noise when Sam flashes on his vision, high-fiving him here in the basement. God, he hates himself sometimes.
The heat provides little comfort, but Josh sheds his snow-soaked outer layers anyway, glad to be rid of the damp. He'd grabbed the olive vest on a whim before leaving, trying to differentiate whether it was for comfort or punishment. He still didn't know.
Tossing the vest in a careless pile next to the couch, he shimmies out of his jeans and into more comfortable clothes. Soft worn navy sweats and a plain grey t-shirt to hide the violent scars slashed on his back. He'd been lucky, managed to be rescued before succumbing to the lure of cannibalism, but it had been close. A Wendigo had nearly shredded him during the rescue. He hadn't had the strength to turn around. He didn't want to know if it was Hannah that almost killed him, this time. The one that left the most marks... physically, anyway.
Josh changes right there in the living room. Why wouldn't he? There's not another human for a few kilometers at the very least. He crawls under a ragged blanket on the couch that smells like home and feels like family, and finally lets the tears find him freely. This was a dumb idea. What did he expect to do here? Sit and wallow in misery and grief seems to be the answer. He misses his sisters. He misses his friends. He misses the boy he used to be.
A soft knock at the door startles him so badly he nearly falls off the couch. Fear strikes his gut so suddenly, it takes his breath away. All he can picture is Hannah, seven feet tall, skin and bone, bulging eyes, vicious claws and teeth, poised to kill. He might be okay with that if it meant seeing her again.
The knock sounds again, and the voice that calls through the door and glass windows is the sweetest sound he's ever heard in his life. Your voice, calling to him.
"Josh? It's just me. Chris told me you mentioned heading up here today."
Josh scrambles off the couch, the chilled floorboards a shock to his bare feet. His socks are drying by the fire, dampened by the slush. It takes a couple tries for his shaking finger to fumble the lock open, but the moment the door is open, he tugs you into his arms. He ignored your squeak of surprise and mumbled protests, something about how your jacket was soaked and he was going to get wet. Josh helps you inside and closes the door. It's then that he notices that you have a bouquet clutched in your hand, sheltered with care from the blizzarding outside.
A bouquet of bleeding hearts.
Turns out he didn't, in fact, cry himself out earlier, because he can feel his eyes becoming glassy at the sight. Beth had been fond of those flowers, always buying a sprig whenever she saw them, no matter the cost. She'd tuck them in her toque, braid them into Hannah's hair, fasten them to Josh's breast pocket. She even bought perfume scented like them, which was expensive. The faint, sweet smell from the bouquet held tight in your hands, slightly fruity, reminds him so viscerally of his sisters that he almost doubles over, breath coming in ragged gasps.
You frown with concern for him, touching his cheek. "Hey. You okay?" Josh shakes his head and collapses into you like he can't bear to support his own weight any longer. Your arms encircle him, strong and loving, and he melts, drooping like a dying tree.
You don't question further. Josh has always appreciated how you seem to know what he needs before he even knows it himself. He lets you guide him back to the couch. You disappear briefly to put the bouquet into a vase of water and set it on the table beside him, then join him on the couch, tucking his limp body against yours and pulling the blanket over his legs. He's trembling slightly, fighting ugly sobs, but your hands carding gently and soothingly through his hair calms him. He is thankful that the tears are silent.
The rest of the afternoon is quiet. You coax him to eat, to shower, to nap. Aside from that, you allow him his quiet reflection time, curling up next to him while he stares blankly, eyes dead and tired. He feels dead. He feels like he should be dead. Everything he put his friends and parents and sisters through and he manages to be the one alive. His friends who lived must resent him deeply, hate his guts for sure.
He can't deny the calming effect you have, though. Josh is grateful that you managed to find your way to him, especially today of all days, but even a nice kiss from you is making little difference to his weepy mood.
He's been putting it off long enough, he supposes, when you offer a walk with a sad sheen in your eyes that clues him in. What was left of Beth and the unnaturally monstrous, eviscerated corpse of Hannah, or at least the Wendigo shadow of her, was buried in two twin graves, side by side, in the Blackwood cabin's backyard.
Josh follows you, the wet tracks on his cheeks identical to yours. The fact that you almost never interacted with either of his sisters doesn't mean that you're without grief. He also suspects that his own shattered state is upsetting you. Your fingers are tangled in his, both your hands frozen stiff, noses red, lips cracked, as you battle the cold together. The wind is bitter and strong, harsh against his skin, and the bleeding hearts are being whipped every which way. His heart aches at the way you shelter the bouquet with your body, keeping it safe from the worst of the gusts.
You offer to stay back at first, when the ornate headstones come into view, but Josh shakes his head fiercely, his grip tightening on your hand.
"I need you," he whispers, the first words he's spoken to you all day. His voice is rough, gravelly. He doesn't sound like himself.
You squeeze his hand back and smile sadly, kneeling beside him between the ravaged bodies of his sisters buried six feet under cold dirt, in icy graves, and marked by chiseled stone.
Josh has no words. He has no grand speech or deeply meaningful words to put his sisters's spirits to rest. They're probably rolling in their graves right now as he stares in lost silence at the fancy script detailing their names and birthdays and dates of death.
He can feel you shivering beside him, your head nudged in the space between his shoulder and his chin to keep warm, lips probably blue with chill. But you don't move away. It means a lot to him, and he is dreadfully unsurprised when tears come for the upteenth time.
"...I'm sorry," Josh finally gets out, and it sounds so small and week and feeble that he has to clear his throat and say it louder. "I'm so fucking sorry. I... I miss you," he adds, feeling the tears frosting on his face. You echo him quietly.
"We miss you. We love you," you mumble, voice shaky from the temperature.
"Yeah, w-we love you. So much," Josh mutters, shoulder shaking. A wave of something crashes over him so furiously he gasps. A mix of anger and searing self-loathing that makes him want to scream.
So he does. He covers your ears with his hand and you bury your face in his chest as he screams, the sound eerily reminiscent of a Wendigo's screech.
"Where are you?" he sobs, the words barely intelligible between the shaking breaths and the embarrassingly desperate wails. "Come back, I miss you."
The monsters are creeping in inside his mind, the shadows growing long as he spirals. It takes a long moment for Josh to realize that you're holding him, rocking him tightly against your body and whispering in your ear. He concentrates on what you're saying. It takes an awful lot of effort to piece together your words.
"...promise I've got you, my love, you're safe with me," you murmur, voice soft and warm, filling him with light, chasing away the darkness. "Let it all out, but please don't blame yourself."
Josh wants to tell you that it's all his fault. He wants to scream all the dark thought clouding his brain, to shout at you and tell you that he deserves to be dead for the things he's done, but he doesn't do that. He doesn't want to hurt you. So he settles for letting you carry him inside after laying half the bleeding hearts bouquet on each grave. Maybe the cold will keep them from withering a little longer.
It's near dark outside. Josh doesn't even notice what meager dinner you force him to eat, just that he's in a far away place where there's no room for love.
When he comes back to himself, he's tucked into his bed in his childhood room, still in his t-shirt but out of his sweatpants, bundled in the duvet, and you're beside him in your own pajamas. Your arms are around him and his head in on your breast and the slow rhythm of your heart is soothing to his volatile psyche.
"...I love you," Josh manages to choke out, fighting waterworks. He must be dehydrated by now. You kiss his forehead and he catches your chin to meet your lips.
"I love you," you say in answer against his lips, and the scent of bleeding hearts is still on you, in your skin, and Josh feels more relaxed than he has in months. Maybe his sisters could forgive him, in death if not in life. Maybe he can be redeemed.
It doesn't concern him at the moment. He is relatively worry-free right now. You love him. That is enough.
Two bleeding hearts healing each other.
<3
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@restlessnightsahead I hope this fulfills your wish! I spent over six hours at the theater today watching other bands rehearse for tonight's performance and I saw this and got a sudden strike of inspiration. Thanks for the idea!! I hope it is everything you wanted!! xx
Hi, I'm sorry that I haven't been posting for a while, I know I'm outrageously late from my promised schedule :( My real life is super stressful right now, there's a lot of shit going on (same shit that originally made me stumble with my publishing schedules back in December, it's just evolving and becoming worse as time goes by, I thought it'd end soon enough or that I'd manage with it, but that ended up not being the case), and even though my next piece (Regina Mills song fic) only needs like, two sentences to end it, I just can't get it done right now. Yesterday I sat here for an hour straight trying to fumble words together with the timer, without the timer, with background ambience music, noise cancelling headphones on, daydreaming about the scenario before writing it, trying out another piece to kick it off again, all the tricks in my book how to beat a block and just haven't been able to write even one word :(
This also means that I unfortunately most likely have to cancel the Grishaverse week completely, and move all my queued fics back to drafts for an indefinite time. I'm really sorry but I just don't have enough time to write those promised GV fics before next week's Sunday, not when I have this stubborn block going on that almost makes me cry when I try to force myself to write.
I also, unfortunately, have to close my IM's and askbox for the time being and close my requests indefinitely for the first time in 5 years. I have received some pretty hurtful asks and IM's from Stranger Things requesters who are really disappointed about their requests not coming when they expected them to come out, and only one has been understanding about my reasons so far. I promised estimated dates to a few requesters who asked for them through IM's, and now they are angry when that date came and left and their request was still not published. I made the decision to block those people and also deleted their requests after a friend here gave me advice what to do, but I'd rather not receive more messages or asks like those, which is why I have to close everything people may use to harass me with.
Replies will stay open for now, because comments from my followers often make me smile. And at least in replies they are forced to be off anon if they really want to hate on me and open themselves up to potentially be ridiculed by other users/readers on this site, but without me spamming the dash with hate and rude people. However, if people start to harass me through replies despite harassing being fully on display then, I will change that setting to "only Tumblrs you follow can reply".
I admit that sometimes I have slipped and published some passive-aggressive asks, but I've deleted them within the next 30 minutes because I no longer want haters to have any platform in my blog or dashboards of my followers.
I'm really sorry and I hope you all understand. And in case someone is wondering: No, I have no idea when I'm planning to come back. I will come back eventually and obviously I hope it's soon, but I still have no idea if it's next month or next year.
This absolutely broke my heart to hear!! Is it really that hard to be respectful? A writer on the internet DOES NOT owe you their time if you insult them for it, and even if you don't!!
Ashley in her band au form. I liked her fingerless gloves so I kept them but made them black and elbow length. Her jean shorts/tights combo was cute but I added rips. Kept her tall boots but they're more combat boots-ish now. Her shirt has the Until Dawn band logo and now her beanie says Until Dawn.
I feel like she'd go by Ash more in the band au.
Ignore the body proportions especially the feet I hate feet so they have triangle shins.
made Rami wall papers for the super fangirls/fanboys/fankids of him! features his roles as Josh Washington, Ahkmenrah, Freddie Mercury, and Elliot Alderson!
can you tell I like his eyes a lil bit? UvU
"sit with music" is a bit stolen from one of his direct quotes. link here.
never use canva mobile unless it's your last resort. thanks I hate it. I rage quit at least eight times.
it's meant to be subtle so my friends don't question the obsession. alas I am single so until my real life beloved's eyes grace my wallpaper it will have to be Rami's
I've never been more proud of my mom. it's my birthday today and she sent me the clip of Rami Malek as Freddie Mercury playing/singing happy birthday to himself. love you mama xx
