Currently reading: Tress of the Emerald Sea by Brandon Sanderson. It's really good so far!
Last series watched: I've started watching Abbott Elementary last week so I'm kinda just watching a couple of episodes every other day. I'm really enjoying it!
Last film watched: live action of How to Train Your Dragon. It was good and also completely unnecessary lol
Last song listened to: Nice to meet you by Myles Smith.
Sweet or salty: I like both but probably prefer sweet! 🧁🍫
Coffee or tea: hot coffee ☕️ and iced tea 🧊🍵 (I just really wanted to use emojis for this one lol)
Currently working on: just reaching my reading goal for 2026 and growing my book collection! 📚
Tagging @lewisrain , @frozenwillow (I know what you're reading lol), @thelastplantagenet and anyone else who wants to do it 💕
15. What's your favorite plotless fic that you have written?
I'm quite fond of the bite is..., a fic I wrote for Scottuary a couple years ago, which is a series of vignettes exploring Scott's developing relationship with the bite from S1 all the way to 5B. I re-read this one recently and was actually very pleased with the prose, especially the whump in the 2nd vignette
19. Share a snippet from a wip without giving any context for it.
“Why?” he asks eventually, and Theo looks surprised at the sudden noise. As their connection seemed more or less permanent, they’ve fallen into a sort of uneasy truce. Most nights, if they happen to be asleep at the same time, they accept and tolerate each others’ presence and rarely speak if they can help it.
“You’ll have to be more specific,” Theo says carefully, though he doesn’t move from the non-existent corner that he’s slouched in.
“Why did you come back to help? You didn’t need to do that.”
For a moment, he doesn’t respond, then he rolls his eyes dramatically. “I wanted to leave Beacon Hills behind permanently. I didn’t want a were-lion from World War II chasing me for the rest of my life, so I dealt with the problem at the source.”
Theo’s heartbeat is strong and steady, but he’s also a near-perfect liar.
“I don’t believe you.”
36. How do you come up with fic titles? What's the one you're most proud of?
lol so my fic titles can generally be sorted into 2 categories: a single word or two related to the content of the fic, or a song lyric. The song lyric ones are chosen by the Very scientific method listening to a particular genre or artist while I write and then picking a song/lyric that particularly speaks to me alsdkfjlj
one of my favorite titles of this type is my re-write of the 6A remembering stiles scene, keep me in your clouded mind. For this one, the fic title and the chapter titles are all taken from "We Sink" by Of Monsters and Men
ahh, thank you so much for the ask! 🥰❤️ docs made this so hard to find bc it was like "i see you searched red...did you mean every word ending in 'red' :D" but we got there eventually!
red - from a sceo wip that's temporarily on hold, in which scott gets severely injured, and theo helps clean him up
His eyes can't seem to leave Theo’s face, studiously taking in the harsh crease between his brows, the jump of a muscle from the tension in his jaw, the clinical nature of how he examines Scott’s wounds.
Still, he can’t help but notice how Theo’s fingertips linger wherever they touch—his eyes even longer. They both know Scott is healing, so Theo’s laser focus isn’t born of concern. Maybe he’s calculating where his fingers can rest…and how close can he get to the center of Scott’s chest before Scott freaks out.
Scott wonders, idly, how restless Theo’s fingers might be if he let his guard down….if he’d pull them away. If he’d want to touch Scott more.
It’s funny, he thinks, how focused Theo is on cleaning Scott up, but he’s covered in blood too. Red droplets of vulnerability speckling his face, stark against the stoicism.
He wants so badly to reach out and touch.
(Send me 🔍 + a word/phrase & if I find it in a WIP I'll post a snippet!)
my opinions on her change often depending on how empathetic i’m feeling that day LMAO. someone needs to invent a way to give someone all the kisses and understanding in the world without ANY sort of vulnerability and then give that to her. i would love to just like. have afternoon tea with her. absolutely insane experience. not one table manner would be upheld and i’d be fascinated. that was entirely incoherent, sorry.
All the people I ship romantically with this character
kell. literally just kell. i think he’s so perfect for her like nobody else is. that being said, i do wish something more angsty and confusing would’ve happened when alucard kissed her that one time, and i know the lila/ojka hate sex would’ve been insane frfr.
My non-romantic OTP for this character
she and alucard are always slaying the house down. however, i like the idea of lila befriending any older character, especially a woman, as one of those ‘crazy young woman meets slightly more chill middle-aged bestie who tuts at their antics’ friendships. so like calla, or barron, or even maris.
My unpopular opinion about this character
i may or may not be burned at the stake for this one. 🫣
she really, REALLY pissed me off the first time i read agos. 💔
in adsom, i kinda got the whole ‘yeah, ok, it’s the 1800s and she never really interacts with other women. makes sense that she’s Like This.’ and after agos, i feel like she has a lot of development, despite how stubborn she is.
BUT IN AGOS. no. it was that bit right at the beginning when she’s in the corset and dress: ‘…an abominable dress.’ ‘why in god’s name must women do this to themselves?’ as much as i could analyse that section, i won’t for everyone’s sanity. it just rubs me the wrong way for a variety of reasons. that doesn’t feel so period-accurate or rebellious to me, just unnecessary. though, i do think a lot of this changes perspective when you consider lila to be genderfluid rather than a woman, which i admittedly didn’t during my first read.
One thing I wish would happen / had happened with this character in canon
speaking as ojka’s #1 fan, i really wish she’d stuck around longer to serve as a foil/mirror to lila. i feel like there was a lot more potential there. also i want them to make out.
I decided to go with Kell/Lila/Holland and it's a whump with a happy ending hehe thank you!!!
if someone wants to send more numbers + character/ship, I'll write a drabble!!
“I’m telling you,” Holland seethed as he pressed his fingers on Kell’s throat, “I’m haunted.”
“No,” he chocked on the words. “Not…”
The words died on his lips after yet another squeeze. Holland managed a bitter smile. “That’s always been the problem with you, Kell,” he pushed him towards the open window, “you see the good in everyone. That is your fatal flaw.”
“No,” Kell said in a whisper. “No.”
“Well, then –”
A knife to the back knocked Holland’s air out of him and he loosened the grip he had on Kell. He fell on the floor like a puppet whose strings were suddenly cut. He dared one last glance at his attacker and closed his eyes.
“Lila,” Kell walked to her, massaging his sore throat, “what did you do?”
“What had to be done,” she replied curtly, no hint of warmth in her voice.
“You killed him,” he sighed, defeated.
“I didn’t,” she told him. Not yet, she thought in her mind.
Kell frowned, visibly angry. He looked at Holland on the ground and the antari body’s jolted, as if something had been freed from him. Not long after, he opened his eyes and blinked, unfazed.
“Would someone take the knife out of my back?”
Lila obliged with enough force to elicit a grunt and then a glare from him. She used the hem of her coat to clean the blade, annoyed.
“I guess it worked?” Kell wondered.
“I don’t know,” Lila began, “I’d rather be sure and stab him again.”
“You wish,” Holland raised an eyebrow and started walking away. “Perhaps next time it will get you.”
“You wish”, Lila whispered to herself and followed him. Behind her, Kell couldn’t help but roll his eyes.
"Hear me out, right. Neither one of us has ever kissed someone, and we're starting sophomore year this year, right?"
"Right," Scott said slowly, his eyebrows furrowing as he tried to follow. It was hard to do on a normal day when his head wasn't fuzzy.
"So, this is, technically speaking, our last chance!"
Scott stared at him blankly. "Our last chance to... make out?"
"No! Well... yeah, sort of."
💾 What is your document of your wip/a wip called? (not the stories actual title but what you’ve saved it as)
i'm literally so glad you sent me this because the 'the epic highs and lows of werewolf transgenderism' staring at me every time i open my google docs tab keeps making me 🥰🥰 i shan't say more. except that it features t4t s3 mutual misery scallison and also some sciles, also t4t. because i say so
🖍 Post any sentence from your wip
wait i shall say more. TWO sentences.... as a treat
'If there wasn't anything else her parents made easy, she at least had this; when she first sat them down and shared more truth with them than they would share with her for the next five years, they had only looked at each other the same way they did when she found out werewolves were real: wary, and steeling. Life-long metalworkers hammer-ready.'
An ask game for writers to procrastinate working on your WIP(s)
"The world doesn't care," Erica tells him. She says it like it's supposed to shock him, head lolled to the right to look at him from where they sit on the floor on the train depot, backs rested against one.
Boyd wants to laugh, almost, in an ironic sort of way. He chuckles because he can't help it, though he sobers and softens at the look she throws him. She looks betrayed. Hurt. It'd been strange for him to hear, but it'd been hard for her to say, too.
He looks away.
"I know," he responds.
In his peripherals, she softens, too. Not as much. It's not her fault. He hasn't told her about Alicia. Hadn't wanted to. Still doesn't.
Erica's face twists in a strange way, uncomfortable and annoyed and affectionate all at once. When he looks back at her, she sets her shoulders, fixes her eyes on a point past his head, and he knows he's not supposed to notice, so he doesn't act like he does. He thinks she wants to say something, but she doesn't, for a long few moments. Then—
"I care," she's almost spitting it out when she finally says it, overly brash like she has to make up for being gentle.
It doesn't matter. Boyd's shoulders fall. He hadn't realized he'd been so stiff until he isn't anymore.
"I know," he says again, quieter, more precious with it.
Her eyebrows pinch together. If her own affection had stuck a knife in her, his had twisted it. She looks away this time.
He wants to smooth her forehead out. He reaches out instead, barely, bringing his hand close enough that his pinky brushes against hers before he pulls it back, knocking his knee against hers before he pulls it back.
He thinks he'll tell her. Probably. He thinks that for a while.
When she asks him and Isaac to run away with her, he knows he can't. If he tells her his parents already have a missing-presumed-dead kid, she'll try to figure out a way to stay.
There isn't one. Missing-presumed-dead had been worst case scenario for Alicia. It's the best one for him, right now.
He thinks they’ll come back, someday. He thinks that for a while.
