#maybe I'll post those snippets next

[quadrantadvisor]

Moulting, Good Omens, Falling!Aziraphale au, 2831 words

-

Aziraphale sipped at his chardonnay (not vintage, nothing special, just something he’d picked up to share with company) and sighed contentedly. It’d been a lovely day. Not inasmuch as that the weather had been nice, but rather in that he’d met up with Crowley at St. James’s Park that morning, underneath the gloomy, overcast sky, and then they’d spent the day together. A walk until the rain started coming down, lunch in a new restaurant owned by a pleasant Korean couple, and a trip to the cinema at Crowley’s insistence. Then, finally, to the bookshop to drink and chat. It was getting late, now, and the sky was dark with heavy clouds.

“So you didn’t like it? Not even the actors?” Crowley asked, a note of complaint in his voice.

Aziraphale resisted the urge to roll his eyes, because it was a terrible habit really, and suited Crowley much better. “That isn’t what I said, I’m just not sure that I understood the point of it all. They all seem rather manic, running around as they do, don’t they?” He took a sharp breath, and tried to work his shoulders back and forth discreetly.

Crowley gestured towards Aziraphale with his wine glass, nearly spilling, but of course the liquid knew better than to slosh out. “In about 50 years you’ll get used to them, and then they’ll invent some kind of immersive hologram technology, and you’ll be saying what a shame it is that no one appreciates films anymore because they were true artistry.” Crowley was looking at him, then, and frowned. “Are you feeling alright?”

Aziraphale gave his best smile. “Oh yes, of course, tip top shape!” Aziraphale knew that he was no good at coming up with excuses on the spot, so he’d prepared one earlier. “I tried out that sleeping thing again, but all it seems to have done is bother my back. These corporeal forms really are much too sensitive.”

“Mm, right,” Crowley said, and Aziraphale couldn’t tell if he was buying it or not. There was certainly no reason for him not to buy it. Aziraphale was too tipsy for this, and Crowley was still wearing his blasted shades. Crowley pulled out his mobile phone, glanced at it. “Speaking of, I ought to be off.” He downed his drink and grabbed for the jacket he’d slung over his chair.

“I thought that there was no rest for the wicked?” Aziraphale tried, smiling weakly.

He was rewarded by Crowley giving him a sly look and saying, “Surely you’ve heard of beauty sleep.”

Aziraphale chuckled at him, and stood at the same time Crowley did, to walk him to the door. Only polite. “Don’t forget to sober up before you drive,” he chided. “It’s dangerous.”

“I know, I know.”

The rain was coming down heavily, the sound near overwhelming once the front door was open. Aziraphale thought that Crowley met his gaze for a moment, but the lights were too dim to tell. “See you later, Angel.” He stepped out into the wet, immediately drenched.

“Yes. Later.” Aziraphale kept watching him, saw him shake himself free of both the alcohol in his system and the rain, which began to sheet away from his artfully tousled hair. He got into the bentley, drove off into the dark.

Aziraphale closed the door gently, muting the downpour. He stood for a moment, breathing.

Well. Best to get it over with all at once.

Aziraphale rolled his shoulders back and gently, gently, pulled out his wings. He stretched them to their full length. Then he shook them.

Pain lanced through him, like hot irons applied to exposed nerves, and he gasped. Blackened, singed feathers fell straight down, rather than fluttering, and made soft plink-ing noises as they hit the floor. Like huge, dark raindrops. As they built up around him their smell began to waft up, and Aziraphale nearly choked on it. Sulfur and burned hair and acrid smoke. There were so many this time, must be a few dozen at least.

Good. Aziraphale wished that there was a way to speed this whole process up.

There was, of course, but he didn’t know how to implement it without coming off strange. It wouldn’t do to crowd the dear boy; Crowley needed his space, certainly, and Aziraphale would never want to intrude where he wasn’t welcome. When Crowley wanted to see him, he would seek him out, and Aziraphale would have to continue relying on that.

He’d just left, and Aziraphale already missed him. How silly. His wings seemed to be clear, and Aziraphale let them droop, near touching the floor themselves. He swiped at the tears building up in his eyes. How pathetic. An angel, making such a fuss over a few feathers. It was good that Crowley was gone. Aziraphale wouldn’t want him to see him like this. No point in feeling sorry for himself. No point in feeling lonely. Aziraphale had already made his choices, and now he would see them through.

Just one more moment. Just a few more deep, ragged breaths.

Aziraphale went to find his dustpan. Couldn’t leave the ghastly things lying about, where anyone could see them. That wouldn’t do at all.

-

It had all started some months after dear young Adam had kindly stalled Armageddon, nearly a full year. Aziraphale had been in the middle of sorting inventory (read as: doing some light reading) when the phone rang. Aziraphale jumped to answer it, because odds were that the only person calling would be Crowley. Aziraphale had put the shop's phone number up on its website, naturally, it was the done thing, but that didn't mean that anyone else had access to it. Said website was nigh unsearchable, and completely innavigable for anyone who did find themselves there (could Aziraphale be blamed for having trouble with all this newfangled technology? The fact that it was the perfect cover to keep his bookshop out of the public eye was just a bonus.)

Aziraphale picked up the phone with a bright, "Hello!" wondering what plans Crowley might have for the day.

"Ah, Aziraphale," said a familiar voice. Charming and confident, affable in a way that was distant, above it all. "I see that this human contraption works, after all."

"Gabriel?" Aziraphale was frozen in shock. He had seen neither form nor feather of another angel since they'd dragged Crowley off to heaven in his body. He'd been quite hoping that they'd all forgotten about him after the hellfire incident. And in any case, heaven never communicated through indirect channels. For his entire time being stationed on Earth, Aziraphale had always sent and received paperwork through heavenly messengers, and if his supervisors wanted to check up on him, they did it personally.

"Yes, Archangel Gabriel, that is my name."

Evidently, no more was forthcoming, and Aziraphale adjusted his grip on the telephone. As his corporation came back into feeling, he realized that he was shaking. "What is the meaning of this"? Aziraphale asked, trying for all the world to harden his tone, but knowing he came off as weak and soft as he ever had. "I thought we had an agreement that I would be left alone."

"Yes, Aziraphale, exactly right. None of us will interfere with you. As things are now, heaven won't touch you." Gabriel's strangely chipper cadence gained a new edge to it. "And isn't that a pickle? An angel, with no connection to heaven."

Again, Aziraphale waited for him to elaborate, but apparently Gabriel was determined to draw this out. "I'm afraid I don't catch your meaning," he admitted.

It seemed that that acknowledgment was all Gabriel wanted. "Well, we've been discussing your"—Aziraphale could hear the sneer in his voice—"situation, and found ourselves pretty confused, all things considered! You have obviously been corrupted, deeply, deeply corrupted, and yet," this time it's confusion that Aziraphale hears, the utter bafflement of it almost… innocent. "You haven't Fallen."

"Ah." Aziraphale swallows. "I suppose I haven't."

Gabriel was back to cocksure, the innocence purged. "So, like I said, we were talking about it, and the only thing that makes sense is that you've been affected by an overabundance of demonic influence. And no wonder!" His laugh grated Aziraphale's ear. "You've been stationed down there for what, 6,000 years, give or take a few decades? Not that we had any way of knowing, of course, that your adversary had successfully tempted you into some sort of arrangement, or we would've pulled you millenia ago for some recuperation."

They were trying to blame Crowley. Of course they would. "Now, Gabriel, I—"

The archangel interrupted him. "Don't you see what this means, Aziraphale?" he asked, as sunny as ever. For a moment, it seemed as if he was waiting for a response again, but maybe it was just a dramatic pause. "It means there's still hope!"

"Hope?" Aziraphale was a great proponent of hope, generally, but the word felt like ash in his mouth. "Hope for what, exactly?"

Gabriel, with exaggerated patience, explained, "Hope that you might return to the fold. Return to the Host, Aziraphale. Like I said, you've been gone for too long. Michael wasn't a fan of the idea, but I'm fairly certain that if you spend a few thousand years in quiet contemplation, bathing in heavenly light, you'll be able to purge yourself of all of that, ugh, unpleasantness."

Fear's grip on Aziraphale had tightened, and it felt like it was constricting the muscle in his chest. "You can't take me, you can't, we had a deal—"

"Calm down, of course not," Gabriel said, amused. "We won't do anything against your will. Aren't you the one who always said that it means more if they choose, on their own, whether to be saved or damned? So," the silence on the line stretched for only a moment, and then, "I'm offering you a choice."

"What does that entail?" Aziraphale felt cold now.

"Well, it was difficult to set up, I'll tell you that much. We don't normally do this manually, but we found some old files on the process. I guess you could call it a bit drastic, but, drastic times, and all that."

"Spit it out, Gabriel." Aziraphale wasn't quite sure where that came from. He was no longer feeling like a present part of the conversation.

Gabriel let out a short, aggravated hum. "Alright, here it is. Heaven's ultimatum for the Principality Aziraphale. You've allowed your angelic essence to be tainted by associating with the demon, Crowley. We are offering a chance for you to return, willingly, of course, and purify your essence. However," he says, and he wields the condition like a knife, "should you reject Heaven's forgiveness and generosity, and continue perversely consorting with our enemy, we will have to," Gabriel hummed again, but this one was pleased, self-righteous, "cut you off, so to speak."

"You mean—"

"Yes, Aziraphale. There aren't bad angels. It's antithetical to what we are. We found the files on the manual process, and we'll do it, to keep the Host pure. You'll be damned."

Aziraphale closed his eyes. Breathed in. Breathed out. "You're saying that I must choose between Heaven and Crowley, under the threat of Falling."

"Yes." And wasn't Gabriel proud of himself, for his clever solution to their little problem. Neatly smudge away the black spot on his record in one move. Checkmate, no options for escape.

Aziraphale, finally, felt calm. "Ah. Well. I choose him."

"What?"

Annoyance crept into his voice. "I choose him, Gabriel. I thought that should be rather obvious. I chose him, and the Earth, over you and your organization already. Remember that? It was rather a big to-do. Does Armageddon ring any bells?"

Gabriel's tone was pricked with discomfort, but firm. "My threats are not idle, Aziraphale. Every moment you spend with him will draw you further from the Almighty's Grace. The contract has been drawn up and sealed. You will not be allowed to continue in this manner."

"And yet, I plan on doing exactly that. If there isn't anything else, I'll be going now."

A few flustered noises, the likes of which Aziraphale had never imagined an archangel making, came over the phone line. Then Gabriel seethed, "Fine. Enjoy your Fall from Grace, freak." The call ended.

Gabriel had never expected Aziraphale to even consider option two, that was obvious enough. It was merely coercion, to get Aziraphale to do what they wanted, which was to sit down, shut up, and become the perfect little soldier that would go along with it the next time they tried ending the world in glorious battle. Bugger that. Aziraphale was his own ethereal being, and he would make his own decisions.

Well. Not "ethereal" for much longer, it didn't seem. Aziraphale refused to let himself be afraid, and so he wasn't. He wasn't.

And there wasn't any reason to be. Everything was perfectly fine. A couple of days later, Crowley really did call, and even if Aziraphale could hardly bring himself to pick up the phone, he made it before it rang out. Crowley had tickets to an outdoors theatre, and oh, wouldn't that be lovely? The evenings were just getting warm enough, the sun lingering in the sky, and they'd sit or stand and watch a performance like they had so many times before. Aziraphale agreed readily, and Crowley said he'd pick him up at 6:30.

The first one had shocked him, it really did. He'd yelped aloud in the middle of a soliloquy, and gotten dirty looks from the audience around them. Aziraphale barely noticed, because his wing, his wing, something had happened to it, and the sharp pinprick pain of a burn was giving way to an ache, deep in the bone, traveling all the way up to his back, a celestial insistence that something was wrong, wrong, so very wrong.

"Angel, what's happened? Are you alright?" Crowley was saying quietly, urgently. He was leaning in towards Aziraphale, who was having to fight against the sudden, foolish impulse to take his hand and let the contact ground him. It was light enough for Aziraphale to catch his eyes darting about, scanning for possible threats. His gaze turned back to the angel. "You jumped like something bit you."

"I—" he couldn't finish the statement, didn't know how to. He tried again. "You know, I suppose something must have." Aziraphale chuckled weakly. "How odd, insects generally know better than to bother us. I suppose it just surprised me, that's all."

Aziraphale managed to excuse himself, promising to be right back. He felt Crowley's gaze on his back the entire time he made his way through the crowd.

It was difficult to find a spot with the requisite amount of privacy and space, but Aziraphale managed. He manifested his wings into physical space, and pulled the afflicted one forward to assess the damage.

He had barely touched it when the feather detached, and fell. 

Aziraphale stared at it. Leaned down, picked it up. A single feather. Among thousands. He was holding a scorched secondary. He had felt no relief when it fell, just a harsh continuation of the pain.

He noticed the ugly look of it, the way it had practically calcified rather than burning away, he noticed the smell.

Aziraphale didn't know what Falling was like. Crowley never talked about it. They'd been out of sight of the Host, when they'd undergone their transformations. There was a war, there were half as many angels in the heavens, and then there were creatures below that turned into beings that always seemed familiar but that no one could ever quite recognize.

Apparently, Falling hurt. Aziraphale knew that, at least, before. It was supposed to. It was a punishment, after all. This was the start, the first taste, and Aziraphale didn't care for it much. One feather out of thousands.

Was he the first angel to Fall, since the war? He hadn't heard of it happening to anyone else. Maybe it wasn't supposed to. Maybe God had split up her teams in the Beginning, and didn't care much what they did after that. Wouldn't that be something, all those angels scared into obedience when The Almighty wasn't even keeping score.

Best not to speculate. It was happening. It had started, and now he had to go through with it. He would go through with it, because some things were worth a bit of pain, a bit of risk.

He considered keeping the feather, but it did smell dreadful, and Crowley might notice it and there'd be no way to explain that. He'd have plenty more, later, if he wanted. He shoved the feather in a bin, and returned to the play. He couldn't very well keep his demon waiting. And, if what Gabriel had said was true, if every moment they spent together mattered, then Aziraphale was going to hoard and savor those moments with every atom of his angelic being.

[hoshinasblade]

second best |2| hoshina soshiro

PART 1 | PART 2 | BONUS: PART THREE

pairing: hoshina soshiro x f!reader genre: slight angst, comfort, childhood friends to lovers, a bit of that miscommunication trope snippet: hoshina soshiro always ranks second at everything in his life. god forbid he falls behind in the bid for your heart too. word count: 2.5K trigger warnings: author's note: hello, reposting the part 2 because of hiccups from saturday when i posted it first (tumblr blocked my blog lol). likes, reblogs, and replies are always appreciated but please do not copy or steal my works. in celebration of this blog reaching 100 followers recently, i have written a bonus part 3 which will be posted within this week. my taglist form is here, and feel free to let me know your thoughts by sending me an ask through here. using my degree correctly by writing hoshina fanfics yes

you aren't sure when things changed between you and hoshina soshiro.

when you were young, you would have understood that he didn't have the attention span to deal with you. he wasn't exactly shy, but you wouldn't call him friendly too - unlike you, who has taken it upon herself to be friends with all the children in the small neighbourhood. unfortunately for you, only the hoshina brothers are at the same age as you are, and at that time you thought that was a sign that fate was giving - you ought to be close to them.

you won't deny that you were fonder of the hoshina brothers than anyone when you started school. if you are being honest, you like them more than any of your expensive dolls or toys. being an only child, you thought it was only natural to want someone to be with - to want someone to share things with.

the brothers would have their endless training sessions every day, and though you did not know how to swing a sword then, you insisted to your parents - and theirs - that you must join them. sometimes you would be sitting on the floor just watching them, and frequently you would be the one keeping count of the score between soshiro and soichiro when they spar.

soshiro has never won a single match against his brother when they were kids.

but you didn't mind. you still preferred him over soichiro.

in fifth grade, you bought him the biggest cake your meagre savings could buy. it wasn't much really, but you won't forget how wide his eyes went when you lighted the candles and sang him the happy birthday song albeit out of tune. the next year, you gifted him a small keychain - a teddy bear in a purple kimono. you never saw him use it.

it wasn't until years after that you worked out what your feelings for him were. the girls from your class would make small talk and ask if you have a boyfriend now and then. you would say no all the time. at sixteen, you felt like you didn't need to be in a relationship - because you have soshiro, you said to yourself - and that was when it hit you.

every time soshiro would talk to you after that, you would peek in your little compact mirror, worried he had miraculously discovered your secret, afraid that maybe your face had given it away. he caught you doing that once, and he accused you of attempting to be pretty for him.

"is it me ye're trying to be cute for?" he volunteered to carry your bag on your way home but you declined. you didn't want to start assuming things; you knew he was just being nice.

"ya wish," you deflected effectively.

"well, whoever it is for, they're in for some trouble", he commented, and you chose not to read too much in his words. you realized how the walk to your house always seemed to be shorter when you were with soshiro.

when you turned eighteen, you asked your mom what it meant to be in love. she was the last person you had wanted to ask - your parents had broken their perfect marriage not long ago, your father choosing to abandon your mother and you. soshiro taught you the basics of kendo during those hard months. "i'll even let ya beat me", he said to you.

"it's when you care for them so much that you will go as far as to let them go because you wanted them to be happy," your mother answered.

soshiro did not have the decency to say goodbye when he left himeji. you wanted to celebrate with him, and it wasn't like you weren't familiar with his plans to move after graduation. you used to stay up late with him, and inevitably the conversation would steer to his dream of getting out of your town. he would say that it's to expand his horizons - for his growth - but you like to give yourself some credit because you know him too well to simply believe that. you can tell that he needs a place to stretch his wings and be the best - somewhere he can be better than his brother.

and maybe you are really your mother's daughter - you let hoshina soshiro go because you thought it would make him happy.

"vice-captain, platoon leader said ye're needed at operations." you saluted and walked inside his office. "get yer ass in there, were the exact words actually," you added, intending it to be a joke.

soshiro didn't even look up from the file he had been staring at since you came in. he's been like this for days after you were sworn in the defense force. you would bump into him in the hallways of the training building or sit at the same table with him for lunch, and he wouldn't speak to you at all. if you didn't know better, you would think that finally, after all these years, he is now aware of your feelings. but that would be impossible, because not only the other recruits would not dare to rat you out, but also because soshiro would not be acting this way if he knew.

"v-vice captain?" you repeated.

soshiro hummed. "i heard ya the first time, officer," he said, his glance on you so cold you felt it from where you stood. it wiped off the smile you were wearing that morning.

"ya can go," he said once more after he noticed you didn't move. "or d'ya need anything else from me?"

"no, vice-captain." you were almost out of the door when you remembered something else. "one more thing, hoshina-san," you faced him again, the way you said his last name soft against your own lips. "soichiro-kun will be visiting again tomorrow so we can go to himeji together -"

"do ya belong to the sixth division?" soshiro cut you off. "i didn't know ya transferred."

"i - i'm not -" you were still trying to look for the appropriate response when he interrupted you again.

"then why are ya spending so much time with him? d'ya wanna move to his jurisdiction?" soshiro is standing now, whatever he was reading earlier long forgotten.

it was difficult to reconcile this distant man in front of you with the boy you used to chase after during your childhood days. the one who would bring you an extra boxed lunch because you told him before that his bento tastes so much better than yours. the boy you fell in love with. you had both grown up, and taken different paths at a time, yes, but you did not expect to struggle so badly to find common ground with him. "im sorry, vice-captain, i'll be off now." it felt like a huge chasm had opened in the middle of the room that determined to keep the two of you worlds apart. you turned to leave, and you heard him mutter something.

"if ya wanted to keep going on dates with my brother, ya shouldn't have gone here."

there is only one thing sharper than his katana and it is hoshina soshiro's mouth.

pain swirled inside you, threatening to spill over. when you couldn’t keep the turmoil in any longer, you snapped.

"what is yer problem?!" your pitch reached a high octave that soshiro was shocked at the outburst. "did i do anything? cause yer being mean, soshiro," you pressed on, stepping closer to him. it didn't escape him how you dropped the title off his name, and the honorifics, too. he was about to respond, but you didn't give him the chance. "look, i know yer not on good terms with soichiro-kun, but he’s my friend."

"like i needed to be reminded." sarcasm coated his retort. "ya know what? ya can marry the guy and i won't even care. do whatever ya want", he said, dismissing you in a harsher tone

your forehead scrunched and your eyebrows met in confusion. "what are ya talkin' about? no one is getting married -"

soshiro's laugh was bitter. you recoiled at the offensive sound. "i'm not the one going around telling everyone she's in love with soichiro-kun.”

there was a loud ringing in your ears; you couldn’t believe what you were hearing, and you were suddenly afraid that this conversation is unfolding into something else entirely. “i never said that,” you protested. “i never told anyone i was in love with him. i don’t know where you’re getting this from.”

soshiro’s expression remained stoic and unreadable. “i heard you say it at the izakaya”, he murmured.

breath was knocked out of your lungs and panic started to rise within you. “i never told anyone i was in love with him”, you repeated. you tried to rewind every second of what happened in the party thrown for the new officers nearly a month ago. everyone was drinking and having a good time after the sworn-in ceremony. commander ashiro and the vice-captain had to leave ahead. your fellow newbies grilling you on your history with hoshina soshiro.

“save it.” hurt was evident in soshiro’s voice; his eyes glimpsed at you briefly, and you saw an emotion you couldn’t quite decipher flicker. soshiro’s expressionless mask faltered for a moment, revealing a glimpse of vulnerability. although you don’t have a clue how he would have heard it when he went with commander ashiro that night, the desire to straighten things out overtook you.

for a split second, the burden of the truth hangs heavily on your tongue. you gave in to the desperation.

“i never told anyone i was in love with him”, you reiterated, hoping he would understand this time. “because it’s you i’m in love with.”

there were multiple occasions in the past where you almost admitted what he meant to you; you had pictured a thousand scenarios in your head where you declared your love, but all of them did not include the part where soshiro would respond.

you thought confessing would ease the ache in your heart, but it was the opposite. "i didn't know how to tell ya, and that's my fault. but how could i? ya didn't even bother to say goodbye to me when ya left home." it was taking everything of you to hold your tears back, and ignoring the obvious tremble in your voice, you continued. "did ya know i taught myself how to pray after ya were gone? i thought it was the only thing i could do for ya."

"i didn't know", was all soshiro could say. he looks in distress, still grappling with your bold confession.

a loud knock on the door broke the tension. “vice-captain, they made me fetch you,” okonogi said from the hall.

“well, now ya do.” you turned away just when soshiro strode towards your direction, running after you. you were faster than him, and despite the possibility that you would be seen coming from the vice-captain’s office crying, you twisted the doorknob and ran.

it is still hot when you sit down on a bench at the rooftop of the third division's training building.  you welcomed the cool breeze, however, and you noted that at this altitude, everything from far away looks considerably smaller.

you missed two important briefings this afternoon already, and your team is most certainly searching frantically for you everywhere. you are definitely going to be scolded by your superior. yet you couldn’t bring yourself to discard the little comfort being alone had given to you, especially after such an emotional confrontation. you sighed, exhaustion slowly crawling all over you. lost in your thoughts, you did not notice the soft footsteps approaching until a familiar voice tore through the silence. the cold breeze blew, making you shiver a bit.

“hey,” soshiro called out. you freaked out, immediately looking for a space to hide at. “i already saw ya,” he let you know.

he held out a keychain in front of your face, a tiny bear in a faded purple kimono with the string attached to its head dangling from his forefinger. you recognized it instantly - you got it for him when he turned 12 years old. he sat beside you, not concerning himself with asking for your permission.

“the first few days were the hardest”, he began, and you listened. “i was too used to seeing ya every day, but when we were apart, i convinced myself i would forget how ya look like. i didn’t.” he offered the keychain to you and you took it - the bear’s fur worn out and old to your touch. “i hold that thing whenever i start to miss ya.”

shock was etched on your face and your gaze darted to him. “is it too late now to say that i love ya?” he whispered, his face mirroring the sincerity of his tone. sunlight bathed the rooftop as soshiro’s words hung in the air, leaving you breathless and stunned. you gasped. “maybe i should have told ya sooner. but i have been in love with ya for a while now.”

you leaned into his shoulder, and you quietly cried.

“i don’t think i have been anybody’s first choice in anything, so it didn’t enter my mind that ya would probably feel the same.” his hand found yours and you relished on the warmth.

“your brother advised that i tell ya, ya know?” you said between sniffles.

he chuckled. “he didn’t do an excellent job at that, did he now?”

silence ensued; his thumb tracing patterns on the back of your hand, your head on his shoulder still - your breathing still a mess from everything that has been said. “i’m sorry i hurt ya. let me spend my whole life making it up to ya,” he proposed. the promise made your heart skip a beat.

for the first time in a long time, you gave him a smile - the one you have reserved just for him, the one you made sure to convey everything you wanted to tell him. there are a lot of other things you feel the need to ask him, but this will suffice for now. this is more than you ever had in your whole life.

“i can’t believe we wasted so much time dancing around our feelings. that one time i wanted to hit one of our classmates because he was being pushy with ya, d’ya remember that?” he reminisced. “anyone can have everything in the world, and the only time i would crack is if it is ya being taken away from me.”

all your dreams pale in comparison to your reality now.

out of the blue, you heard soshiro giggle. “does this mean ya were telling the newbies that night that it was me ye’re into?” he stared at you, and you can’t help but see him as the little boy you grew up with. this is the man i love, you said to yourself. you squeezed his hand.

you didn’t respond. all you know is the color of your cheeks surely rivals the pink of the skies as the both of you watch the sun sets.

[nectarine-pit]

sneak peeks at a couple more panels from 4 different comics in Sparring Sessions...! maybe later today or tomorrow I'll post the table of contents + a tiny snippet from all 20 comics?? 🐉🔮✨

I’ll have this all-new comic collection at Flamecon M136 this weekend & AnimeNYC K30 next weekend- then at SPX J6 in September! If you can’t make it to those, you can sign up to get notified when it’s available in my webshop this fall.

[willownwisp]

ree's leon valentine's day advent <3

hi everyone. <3 as the leon kennedy fluff truther, i'm making an advent for valentine's day because pookie deserves so much love! everyday, i'll be posting a fic ranging from nsfw/sfw fluff for babu leon, i'll be putting out the scenarios and snippets below if y'all are interested. author's note: i've been meaning to put this out like a week ago when i finally figured out the problem w my account as to why tumblr wasn't letting me reply to comments :( but sadly, college got me so head empty. anyway, i've already got 2 days worth of fics already finished so i hope y'all can give me a read. <3

FEBRUARY 8 𖹭 nice legs, daisy dukes. (vendetta!leon x fem!reader) Leon feels like a creep, fuck that. He definitely looks like a creep. Thirty-six year old in all of his 5'11 glory standing outside his girlfriend's college leant against his Ducati like a dick, carrying a box of those, instagrammable pastries you always like to look at. It doesn't hurt to be sweet. Not when you walk — run, at the sight of him in your preppy mini dress, highlighting those long, long legs. Nothing is sweeter, especially when it's wrapped around him.

FEBRUARY 9 𖹭 starry skies, blue eyes. (re4r!leon x fem!reader) Stars dot stygian skies, the night is young, the moon is high. Leon's heart soars with your every laughter. The way your eyes close and your nose scrunches. God he was so in love with you, he could forgive the fact that the tent should have been up hours ago before night. You swear you remember your knots from your wide-eyed Girl Scout days, and he swears these silly moments with you are what makes life bearable.

FEBRUARY 10 𖹭 cold woes. (re4r!leon x fem!reader) Leon S. Kennedy. The apple of his instructors' eyes (and yours), he's a top graduate in the Police Academy for fuck's sake. He's decimated hordes of zombies in his first day as a rookie cop. Endured military training in the middle of nowhere, he's saved the President's daughter. He doesn't get sick. Only that he does catch a cold at the expense of prioritizing you, his clumsy girlfriend, who forgot to wear a jacket on a camping trip, offering his warm clothes to you. He doesn't regret it, he likes taking care of you, but there's something adorable about your sheepish apologies as you wait on him. He could get used to being babied. FEBRUARY 11 𖹭 love on me. (di!leon x fem!reader) As much as Leon loves the sun, the beaches, the tropics. Oh what he would give to become a beach bum in his next life instead of being smacked by bioweapons day in, night out, and being a good bitch to good ol' U.S of A. Unfortunately, after the events of Alcatraz, maybe he's had enough of the sea for now. He gives himself a pat on the back, takes out a chunk of his savings to go to Japan because you've been eyeing it. You said you were interested in the food, culture, and sights. So why in the world were you dragging him to a love hotel? FEBRUARY 12 𖹭 fill up your cup. (re6!leon x fem!reader) He feels himself spiraling recently, turning to the bottle because a glass is never troubled by his woes. He breaks them of course, can't help it, seems like his life is doomed to him breaking in the end. Fragments of glass scatters on the floor, vodka spills on the floor splashes it around like his grief because his body can only take so much. You arrive as he tries to pick them up, attempts to pick himself up. You whisper assurance, he doesn't deserve it. The way you look at him ardently, the gentleness that is your existence. You empty out his pain, and fill it with love. FEBRUARY 13 𖹭 the thrill, the love. (damnation!leon x fem!reader) He wills his old Yamaha to go faster. Your dainty arms clinging to him, the softness of your touch as his speed breaks the sound barrier. What started as mere curiosity turns into rituals. Secrets that only the both of you know. He knocks on your door at midnight, drives you around town. He scolds you every time your arm breaks free, throwing them to the wind. You don't care, you love the thrill, you love him. Leon admits that there is something alluring to the thrill of the chase. Perhaps that's why he's spent his years chasing Ada, but with you it was different. FEBRUARY 14 𖹭 kiss it better. (di!leon x fem!reader) Leon is a man full of stories, his pain, his peace, his fears, his needs. There is more to him than just being a formidable weapon against bioterrorism. He never was a weapon, just a flesh and blood human, and in his mortality there are scars. Deep within him, and littered in his skin. You kiss the faded slash on his hand, he tells you how he'd got it from when Ashley Graham had tried to stab him under the influence of the plaga. You kiss it again, and what he doesn't tell you is the wave of warmth that washes his entire being, it tugs on his very soul. You kiss the scars because it's there, because it's him, and in his reverie, he thinks you truly are his person.

[tlbodine]

Stuck? Try junebugging.

I don't know who needs to hear this, but we're 5 days into nanowrimo so maybe this will be helpful.

Do you want the safety and surety of knowing what happens next in your story but can't stick to an outline? Does knowing in advance what will happen suck the joy out of discovery writing? Do you try to wing it through plots but get tangled in plot holes or have a story that runs out of steam because you can't figure out what went wrong? Are you at your most creative when you have a little bit of guidance? Do you tend to under-write? Do you get ideas in your head for random scenes and snippets that drop from the sky without context?

If any of these apply to you, junebugging a draft might be for you!

What Is Junebugging?

Since you're on Tumblr, you might already be familiar with the concept of junebugging as it relates to cleaning. If not -- I think the idea was first introduced to me by @jumpingjacktrash.

The basic idea is that you tackle cleaning by way of controlled chaos. You pick a specific area you want to focus on, like your kitchen sink, and then wander off to deal with other things as they occur to you, but always returning back to that area. You end up cleaning a little bit at a time in an order that may not make sense to an outsider but which keeps you from getting overwhelmed and discouraged.

How Does Junebugging Work in Writing?

OK, so that's great, but how does this work with writing? Well. In my case, the general idea is to jump between writing linearly, outlining, and writing out of order. It usually looks something like:

Start free-writing a scene, feeling my way through it and enjoying the discovery process.

Thinking, ok, now I have this scene, did anything need to happen to lead up to it? Do I need to go back and add some foreshadowing? Does this scene set anything up that needs to be paid off? And then jump forward/back to make those adjustments.

I'll usually have a bunch of disconnected ideas of ideas that have popped into my head, so I'll write those down in a list somewhere and then try to figure out what goes in between them and what order it goes in.

I'll write what I call "micro-scenes" which is where I'll just sketch out a few essential elements of what's going on without worrying too much about details, description, etc. -- just he did this, she said that, the setting was this, real bare-bones script. Then I can come back through and flesh out each of those microscenes into an actual scene later.

Got a story that has a complex structure? No problem. Write through each storyline one at a time and then chop them up and weave them together afterward. Write all the B plot scenes first then come back through to do A plot and C plot. Move the pieces around like legos. No one ever has to know.

This method works for me because I can't "decide" story elements in advance. I have never been able to just sit down and "figure out" what happens in a story beyond a couple steps ahead -- I have to discovery-write my way forward. But at the same time, that gets really daunting. So I zoom forward with micro-scenes, roughing out the beats in the most bare-bones way possible, then when I run out of clear vision for what happens next I backtrack, flesh out those scenes, build in connective tissue, etc. and by then I will probably find more inspiration to jump forward.

It's basically folding drafting, outlining, and revising all together into a single phase of writing, which is chaotic and goes against everything people teach you, but if it works? then it fuckin works.

Anyway, sorry for the jumbled-up post, I'm dashing this off quickly while I heat up a pizza and I'm about to dive back into my WIP -- but I hope this was a little helpful. If nothing else, take this as my blanket permission that it's 100% OK to jump around, write out of order, write messy, outline sometimes, pants sometimes, and do whatever else it takes just to get through the story. You've got this. Good luck.

[iolypse]

chapter one of the kokichi time loop fic is sooo close to being done I'm screaming. we're at 10k~ words.

do I have any idea how long this fic is going to be? vaguely; with how it's going so far... probably several hundred thousand words. I can't lie. do I have any idea when I'll finish it? no, not one! do I have any idea when I'll start posting it? I try not to post anything unless I've already finished it, since that way, it's guaranteed that you guys will get a complete story—HOWEVER, I may try posting this one in arcs? so like... I'd finish writing one "arc," then start slowly posting the chapters within that arc while I worked on the next one. maybe. big maybe. we'll see!

do I have a smoothed out and edited version of a previous snippet I posted? yes, I do! here you go!

He turns his feet so it reaches his chest first.

Its touch is deceptively soft—almost gentle, as though the brush of fabric against his skin, or perhaps a body climbing into bed beside him, if it weren't so cold. It's just enough for him to feel its weight settle atop his sternum, and for a fraction of a second, his brain doesn't register it as pain. It is only pressure, merely a hand weighing too firm against his ribs as if to test their flexibility.

His nociceptors hesitate. The message doesn't arrive in time. There is no alarm, not yet.

Then it sinks its teeth in and bites.

At first, his tries to hold against the force—his ribcage bows, bones groaning under the mass, muscles flexing in a last ditch effort to rearrange his molecules and turn him into steel through sheer willpower alone to resist—

And his ribs snap.

They do not fracture one by one, neatly and orderly, pigs in a row awaiting their organized slaughter. It could never be that easy; it could never be such a clean, clinical break; there is no such mercy, not for him. Instead, they shatter. A violent, catastrophic splintering—jagged bone driven inward, spearing his lungs, his heart, his everything; a sudden, excruciating collapse as his bones crack like brittle wood. The edges of his own skeleton become weapons turned against him, shredding veins and arteries and tissue. It is instant, and it is endless.

It is a cataclysmic cathedral of agony, sacred and obscene, his torso transformed into a shrine of mutilation. It is a crushing, swallowing agony that turns his body into a ruinous cage of fractured bones and hemorrhaging flesh.

He wants to laugh. He wants to make a joke—something about those ASMR videos, the ones where a car satisfyingly rolls over plastic toys and chip bags, snap, crackle, pop—but the words burn in his throat, lost in the thick, metallic flood of blood surging up his trachea. He chokes on it, drowning in his own attempt at levity. It hurts.

The pressure does not cease.

His stomach folds like paper, his organs popping like bubble wrap, innards bursting under its bearing. His spine buckles. He hears it, that wet, awful twist, and then his nerves vanish. With it, his legs go, as do his arms; he can't feel them anymore. There's a scream before they are snuffed out as if the flame lighting the wick of a candle has been pinched, and they're gone as quickly as yanking a plug out of its socket in a single fluid movement.

He can't breathe. He is being eaten alive.

Swallow.

Is this what Miu felt like?

His thoughts fragment. The edges of his vision smear and fray, bordered by pink, white, black. Red-hot agony lights up every cell, make it stop make it stop make it stop—

Stomach acid, digestion—

His heartbeat slams inside his ears, frantic, erratic—

Until suddenly, it isn't.

Until suddenly it's sputtering, struggling against the pressure that demands it stop all at once. He is yielding, he becoming something less than human, something flat, small, insignificant—

His head.

It has been seconds at most. The cold maw reaches his skull shortly thereafter.

A crack. A cave-in. Something splinters. Something gives.

There is no more pain. His nociceptors heed the calls of his smothered brain no longer.

Kokichi Ouma, Ultimate Supreme Leader, is—

—slouched against the inside of a locker, and he only knows it's a locker because his forehead is smushed against the metal slits of its door.

[abarbaricyalp]

hello darling!!! snippet for AJ and the Winter Soldier? 👀

My beloved fic that keeps growing out of containment. You know those videos where babies freak out when someone they know with a beard shaves? Yeah.

@firstelevens also asked about this one, so I'll post one snippet here and another one there

Sam looked over from doing to the dishes and found Barnes holding the baby under the arms out in front of him. Close enough that AJ could still reach out and snare his impossibly strong little fingers in Bucky's beard but far enough away that they weren't going crosseyed to look at each other. Bucky was staring at him intently and AJ was giving as good as he got. "What in the world are you doing?" Sam asked. "I read that babies start learning faces as early as 2 months old. If he knows my face, maybe he'll like me." "He's a baby," Sam snorted. "Keep giving him his bottle and avoiding bath time and he'll like you just fine." "That's not true. They said babies form opinions and it's hard to break them. The toddler did." "Cass is shy. He just needs to get to know you. He sat next to you at lunch today." "I gave him extra french fries," Bucky admitted. He pushed air into his cheeks and the baby cackled, smacking little hands against Bucky's beard delightedly. And then Bucky grinned too. Full faced and bright, nose scrunching up, eyes crinkling. Sam dropped a dish into the sink in his distraction. It was the kind of smile Sam had gotten familiar with on his family's faces in the past handful of years. The kind where a baby smiled at you and you had no choice but to grin back and maybe make a silly face at them. For a moment, he wondered how long it had been since Bucky had gotten to smile like that, off the cuff and big and completely free. It made him look decades younger. For just a split second, he was seventeen and staring at a grainy black and white photo in his history book again. "Hi there!" Bucky said for the umpteenth time this week. It seemed to be his go-to any time either of the boys looked at him. "I'm Bucky, remember?"

[sillylittlecharacters]

I'm finally baaaack!! And I'm here to staayyy!!

(〜^∇^)〜 Be afraaiiiiddd!!! (〜^∇^)〜

Just to give a little perspective on what I'm working on: The next chapter of Previous Engagements will be published on the 18th, to give me some time to work up to a weekly publishing schedule!! Maybe. Hopefully. In an ideal world.

(For reference of those who have no clue what Engagements have been Previoused, it's my Post-Canon Isabeau Family Reunion Fic filled with fun found family banter; designs for Isa's not so fun biological family; terrible coping mechanisms and even worse puns. It's a good time!!)

First Impressions and Other Miracles recently hit 4k!! insane!!! I'll be doing a 'directors commentary' on each chapter to celebrate in the next coming weeks, filled with insights, snippets from the first drafts and mushy fee-fees and ling-lings for my first finished fic!! So watch this space...

(For those not in the know either, First Impressions is a pre-canon fic for how the party first met! Expect rain sandwiches, worldbuilding, and juuuuust enough Isafrin to make it a tag. cause I can't help myself.)

And in terms for the future. Well.

Let's just say I'm waiting for The Perfect Moment to write it.

[deadly-diminuendo]

I'M WRITING AGAIN!

Only a little, but I'll take it after going so long without.

I'm bouncing around between my current projects right now, so I'm not sure which one I will actually publish next, but I'll have to see which one grabs me the most.

I'm also starting to experiment a little with longfics. These might never see the light of day, but maybe I'll share a little of them here and there. I've been dying to yell about these so hopefully I'll get my chance one day!

I also caught up reading all the snippet posts I've been tagged in over the past few weeks—I always love to see what you're all cooking, and thank you to those who tagged me! 💖

[umbracirrus]

WIP Wednesday

Oh man I've struggled to decide what to post this week, mostly because last week's heatwave wiped me out and I only properly began to mentally recuperate and begin to focus on creating again yesterday.

So.... today is a few little snippets! A mixture of things from the next few chapters of The Perfect Storm :3

Tagged by @skyrim-forever @friend-of-giants @madam-whim , thank you-!!!

I'll leave a tag back open for anyone, so if you see this, I am booping you on the nose with the WIP tag (only if you wish-!!!) I will admit, I struggle so hard with knowing who to tag or not, especially the further along the day gets, and I worry that I'm bothering people so will occasionally have weeks when I do these open tags. I'm am serious that if people want to say that I've tagged them, they can!!! And on the flipside, if you want to tag me in anything, please do-!!!

-------------------

Snippet 1 - Chapter 33:

Taking in a deep breath, she quickly approached the dragon, and swung her swords in an attempt to take out one of its back legs. One of the things she had learned over time as she fought dragons was that rendering them immobile – or as close to immobile as she could – helped significantly. She also knew that any dragons which she had dared fight since Alduin’s defeat… they were volatile, aggressive. Those of any other inclination had joined Paarthurnax in attempting to learn the Way of the Voice, or had hidden themselves away and only emerged to defend themselves or the place they had made their home.

Not… too unlike herself, in all fairness. Hiding herself away in Whiterun, only leaving to defend herself or her home…

Snippet 2 - Chapter 34:

“... Maybe I should just...” Elyse was trembling as she let out a quiet breath. “Just leave. My presence here seems to just stir up trouble, and I... Balgruuf doesn’t need all that on his shoulders on top of everything else.”

Lydia raised an eyebrow as she walked around her and leaned down in an attempt to make eye contact with her. “To Breezehome? It’s a bit of a mess right now, but I haven’t touched your room after it got fixed up so you should have some space there whilst I neaten things out. Or Lakeview maybe? I’m sure if you wanted a break from the city whilst things cool down, we can figure something out with people in Riverwood for some furniture there.”

Elyse pursed her lips together, then turned her head towards the window. “No...” She then made her way over to the glass, and with glossy eyes, she glanced over the distant mountain range. “I’m talking about leaving Skyrim.”

Snippet 3 - Chapter 35

Elyse could feel her nerves chittering away within her mind as she walked alongside Balgruuf towards the marketplace, though did her best to appear calm and relaxed outwardly. The light squeeze of her hand let her know that he was aware of her worries though.

"Are you okay, Elyse? You don't have to-"

"I'm fine, I'm fine… Just… It's our first outing since it was decided that we were to- you know…" She then stopped for a moment, then took a deep breath, pressing her free hand to her chest. "It's only an outing to the Bannered Mare, something we've done a million times before, and yet… Divines, I'm nervous."

"There isn't any need to be nervous… We do not need to act any different than any other trip out for drinks we have had in the past." She knew that he was right, but even so, she knew that he couldn't deny that things were different. There was no avoiding that.

[sizzy-is-my-otp]

I got three likes which means ANALYSIS TIME For those who are unaware, Disney released a Z-O-M-B-I-E-S 4 Dawn of the Vampires Teaser Trailer today which you can view here in reference for the rest of this post:

Analysis/Ramblings under the cut :)

First, we know that this is set after their first year in college so I'm curious to know where they decided to vacation to? I'm not sure about Zed's finacial situation (I'm assuming the exceptional student application was some sort of scholarship) but hopefully now that zombies have integrated more with society, Zevon is making a much more reasonable wage.

Next up we HAVE to talk about Addison's hair. It's beautiful, I'm obsessed with how she has it styled, and it looks very similar to her Re-animated design. The blue is a slightly darker shade than in the cartoon but I think it's gorgeous. I don't have the mental capacity to figure out a reasoning as for why her hair can be a blend between the colors so I'm just gonna go with the "she's half human and now that her alien powers have been awaken she can change her white hair" because we love retcon and it's a DCOM Camp Rayburn is an INSANE name btw. Like if you have both daywalkers and vampires, the fact that "ray" as in sunlight ray and "burn" as in oh my god these guys are gonna literally catch on fire in the sun clearly shows who's favorited at the camp. However, if this was created how I think it was (aka Meg said 'what about Camp Rock' and the director said 'YES') then it's possible it will be two separate camps. Just leaves the question if Rayburn is for the vamps or the daywalkers. Probably the name for both but always a possibility.

THE FACT THAT THEY'RE CAMP COUNSELORS IS SO INSANE TO ME IDK. I never watched later seasons of Bunk'd so I'm unaware how much focus on camp counselors there actually was (in comparison to campers) but I'll be so interesting to see this dynamic. As someone who went to sleepaway camp, has been a camp counselor, and had parents who met each other while being camp counselors, this dynamic holds a really special place in my heart. That being said, Eliza and Willa do NOT strike me as the counelor types. I can see Willa more than Eliza as she's the leader of her pack so she has to have some sort of nurturing aspect to her. Eliza however does not give counselor vibes to me, but maybe since they're clearly working with older and not younger kids, it will be okay. I could probably type up a whole thing about how I think Eliza's character would be an interesting fit for this though so I'm cutting myself off here. Speaking of Willa, who is looking after the pack in her absence? Is that the explained away detail for why Pierce (Wyatt) isn't in the movie? Going back to my Camp Rock theory, the "prepare for battle" that's seen in the trailer really makes me hope its a dance battle and that it will be to some epic song. I cannot wait for this soundtrack. We do get a little snippet of one of the new songs which is fun, and I'm so glad this is going to be released in July before my tickets to the Worlds Collide tour! That way I'll be able to listen to the soundtrack a bunch and learn the songs before I see them performed. Don't hate me for this, but Freya's character in this shot is giving Jojo Siwa

Like it's for sure the hair but I can't see anything else.

MY BABY IS SCARED ITS OKAY HE'LL BE OKAY <3333 Next:

Is this a vampire version of the moonstone? It looks different enough from the wolves' stone that I can assume it isn't, but I was hoping the vampires would have a different origin story. This kind of makes it seem like they're just recycling old ideas to fit a new narrative and I don't love that. I'll have to rewatch Vanna's arc in Moonstone Mystery to see if they retconned anything from that but idk, this to me just feels kinda cheap.

The neon signs are giving nightlife to me which is super fun and a great choice on the designer's part. I'm so intersted in seeing everything plays out if the vampires can't be in the sun, especially due to the fact that in the trailer we see them in the sun multiple times. So what sets them apart from the daylighters? Can they walk in the sun if they have their version of the moonstone? (I just realized it's probably called the sunstone. I take back what I said earlier, if there's a moonstone, there's probably also a sunstone. This makes sense.)

Firstly, the set looks very similar to the one in Bunk'd or maybe even S3 of HSMTMTS (which Meg was also a couneslor for). I'd be curious to know if any of them were filmed on the same set. I do really enjoy that the vampires and daywalkers have the same central color (red) with black and white being what separates them. Although it looks like the daywalkers also have yellow in their design which is very cool (we love when the sun is reflected into characters who can walk in the sun). I need to go in and analyze Victor and Nova's designs further to see if they have any other elements to them. Speaking of which, I think Nova is one of the first live-action characters who's name doesnt fit into the conventional Zombies naming scheme. If you didn't know Zombies all have Z's in their name, Alien's A, Werewolves W, etc. Vampires, like Victor and Vanna, have a V. Nova is a celestial word which could make sense as she can walk in the sun, but I do miss the simplistic fact of the names and I kinda wish her name started with a D for Daywalker.

Wondering too if this is their first meeting or if they're longtime enemies. Freya and Malachai seem to be the unoffical replacements for Zeddison (sad :( ) but if this is their first meeting it's very similar to Zeddison's in the Zombie saferoom with the punches. Maybe their gag will be pulling out daggers instead lmao.

Overall, I'm very excited for this movie and I thought the teaser trailer was just enough to get me back into that Zombies mood without spoiling too much. Leaves me with so many questions but also a bunch of excitement.

[dragonagegayz]

Challenge Accepted

I was tagged by @mortal-ethos to post something I'm proud of so, THANK YOU!!!!

Now if I could I would post my whole Lucanis x Rook fic "Whereever You Go, I'll be Right Besides You" because I am so proud of the word count of that fic especially since it had been so long since I really posted anything of substance or since I had posted smut and the responses I got from that fic where so amazing it has truly encouraged me to keep going ever since (and everything I get to this day, you sweet, sweet bastards <3) so let's do a snippet from that fic!

It'll be NSFW becasue it's me guys what do you expect, but it'll be undercut

I'll be tagging @whispersleo, @adhd-riddled-crow, @alystrin03 and anyone who sees this (tag me in it so I can see !!!) because we all deserve to be proud of something and just know, I am proud of you!

   When the shorter man pulled back, those brown eyes were back and they were bigger than ever, slightly more tears gathered. It seemed the Grey Warden would have to work harder to push his lover over, not that it was an issue, Rook rather prided himself as an expert on the man’s body and knew just how to get what he wanted. So, with their eyes looking deep within each other’s the elf started to move again, this time picking up the pace ever so slightly, letting it go to a smooth transition of up and down instead of pausing at any point. More strangled breaths came from the Crow and he had attempted to bite down on his lip, probably to hide his whines but Rook used his thumb to swipe against the man’s bottom lip. “I want to hear your noises,” He whispered, making sure to lean in close so Lucanis could feel the words against his skin, to feel the impact of his Warden’s plea. Immediately the man’s mouth opened, moans and groans filling the room once again much to the elf’s delight. The shorter continued his pace, adding the occasional squeeze to hear his lover’s breath hitch in his throat, to watch his eyelids flutter and see more tears gather. Then, Lucanis spoke.

     “Amor, I-” Oh yes. Rook knew that tone, the breathy sigh that cut himself off, and the look in the assassin’s eyes. “Don’t hold yourself back Schatz,” The elf implored. “Let me see you, all of you,” As he spoke, the Grey Warden sunk down and squeezed tight, and that was all Lucanis needed.

     Instantaneously, the tears that had been gathering in the man’s eyes flooded down and hiccuping breaths filled the room as Lucanis just sobbed with emotion. Cries interminably interrupted by gasps as Rook began to ride faster, still at a medium pace to not overwhelm his lover too much but enough to keep the tears of the man flowing. The first time the two slept together, this hadn’t happened. It was still wonderful of course, a memory the elf cherished close to his heart but when they had saved the world and finally got a moment alone, this had happened. It was much faster the first time they’d experienced it, one moment the Crow had been fine and then the next he was sobbing as he had come down the Warden’s throat. Lucanis hadn’t even a moment to register what had happened by the time the elf got to him, in a panic to make sure he was ok but the taller man assured him he was fine. Both had chalked it up to being an outburst of all the pent-up emotion, especially after defeating the gods. So when it happened again when the assassin had slipped inside the Grey Warden’s cunt, they concluded that maybe it was just something Lucanis does.

     And boy were they right, every time since, a little before the man would orgasm, the Crow would break down into a mess of sobs and babbles of his love for Rook. It was incredible to watch the man he loved so much, the stoic semi-stiff with emotions First Talon dissolved into a mess of tears and barely lung-filling gasps. It was also hot, of course, knowing that just his mere being alive was what would get his lover to that state, it was a bit of a power trip. Now was no different, Rook watched with slightly masochistic glee as Lucanis’ tears streamed down his face, big eyes staring up at him with some much love and devotion. How lucky of a man the Grey Warden was, to have this, to be like this with such an amazing man. He voiced as much. The gasp he got in response made his evil grin deepen, now came the next best part.

     “Lady luck has nothing but grace for me if I can have you, like this to myself,” His words were shakey, interrupted by the occasional gasp of air as Rook continued to ride his dick but the Crow was determined to say his piece. “For I know nothing can compare to you Amor, I used to think a demon like me deserved nothing but now that I have you, I know that is not true. I must be one good man for someone like you to have looked at me and chosen me,” The elf nodded in agreement, keeping his noises quieter so he could hear the declarations of his lover who so graciously spoke his words. “There is no one like you, I am indeed a lucky man to have you in my arms, on my cock, in my life, making every day I have with you full of color, of light,” Rook would have laughed were he not in the middle of moaning, feeling as his lover’s hips finally jerked up, the self-restraint finally washing away to give away to something harder. “No one else will ever have you like this, what a lucky man am I to be gifted with such a prize,” Another jerk of Lucanis’ hips came as the Grey Warden let out a swear as it hit the spot where stars flickering in his vision, making his clit give a hot, red anger throb which caused him to choke on a gasp. Even in this state, the Crow was ever vigilante of his lover’s pleasure and so, through the tears he managed to get his hand to reach down and press to Rook’s clit. The slick between the two of them was everywhere as the assassin's fingers were slippery when he touched the man which made him cry out, back arching and hips jerking for more. He heard a dreamy sigh come from the man under him. “I will never tire of this, of you, of us. I will spend my life showing you how much I love you, how much I adore you and I will make sure the world hears of our love,” Hiccuping breaths made the words somewhat hard to hear along with the blood rushing from the elf’s head down to where the other man was rather ruthlessly touching. Rook tried to say something in return but all that escaped him was a gambled mess and with one more expert slide of the fingers on him, the elf calmped down on Lucanis’ cock as he came. He hadn’t even realized he was so close.

     Either from watching his lover cum or the sudden squeeze around his cock, the assassin followed his Warden over the edge letting out a significantly louder cry than his other noises had been as his back bowed. The two stayed in their taunt positions for a long couple of moments, breaths coming rapidly from both men, and muscles tensed and tightened. The elf felt the warm slosh of cum trickle out of his cunt when the other man shifted his hips slightly, causing both of them to moan at the overstimulating sensation. Lucanis was still hard, he usually was after only a round but he always gave Rook time to come down, to avoid the nerve zaps the shorter man usually got after cumming. Finally, the elf took in a deep breath before he collapse down onto his lover, the man’s dick still buried and more cum trickling out with how he had moved but he buried his face into the crook of his lover’s neck, taking in the smell of his sweat and now distant cologne. And of course, that underlying smell of coffee.

     As the Grey Warden began to come down from his high, he couldn’t help but let his mind wander to the words his lover had spilled as they reached their peaks. “I will spend the rest of my life showing you how much I love you,” felt like a quote in one of the romance books Rook secretly read, the kind of words before an important, 4-word question was asked. He couldn’t help the giggle at the thought of it. How funny. There’s no way that’s what Lucanis had meant but…

     “What is it, Amor?” The very man asked, a smile in his voice as a hand came up to thread his fingers through the elf’s hair. Rook leaned into the touch, humming dreamily at his lover’s soft touch, his eyes fluttered close as he buried his face deeper into the taller man’s neck but still he answered. “Just thinking about what you said,” He said, words somewhat muffled against the skin of his lover. “Ah, I hope nothing… offended,” The Crow sounded embarrassed, he always said he never had control over his babbling while in that state, just saying whatever words he was feeling deep in his heart. How he didn’t know what that did to Rook was beyond the elf, to drive your lover to the point where they would just babble about how much they loved you while crying? The best feeling, if the Grey Warden was to be asked about it. “Never,” He reassured his lover, placing a kiss on the skin he was pressed against. “Flattered if anything, it sounded like a proposal honestly,”

     Almost immediately, both men tensed at Rook’s words as they were taken aback by what he said. Even the elf himself hadn’t been expecting to say those words. Anxiety immediately riddled the shorter man, how could he have said that stuff so… so casually?! That was supposed to remain a thought in his head, he wasn’t the one who babbled whatever was on his mind. The Grey Warden felt awkward as his lover was still stiff next to him, the hand in his hair nearly a tight grip. He wanted to pull away, to laugh and call it all a joke but if anything that felt worse, to dismiss it as nothing but sex talk would be a disservice and insult to his lover. Instead, he took in a shaky breath and spoke up. “Lucanis?” He asked, still too afraid to move from where he was buried safely. There were a few moments before the man responded, each passing second causing more and more tension to build in the shorter man.

     “Do you mean it?”

     That… hadn’t been what Rook had been expecting.

     He finally decided to lift himself, to look down at his lover and was meant with those damn big brown eyes but the elf could swear there was a… sparkle in them.

     “Lucanis…” Rook found himself breathless, speechless at the intensity of their eyes there. The other man sat up, wrapping his hands around the Warden’s waist, and very slowly began to move his hips up his cock, then down when he got halfway. A strangled gasp forced its way from the shorter man. “If it was a proposal,” Already, tears were starting to form in the corners of the assassin’s eyes. “What would you say?” The question was borderline desperate and the Grey Warden found his thoughts messy as at the same time, Lucanis began to thrust up into his cunt and a hand wandered down to the man’s clit, rubbing soft circles to the tip causing sparks to go through the him. It took him a few tries to speak again.

     “Do you want it to be?”

     Immediately, the First Talon gave a desperate nod, eyes big as he watched his lover as if he would disappear at any moment. Rook opened his mouth to respond but right at that moment, the other man pressed down onto his still-sensitive clit making him arch his body with a ‘Ah!’. The motion made the man’s cock hit right at the perfect spot and Lucanis definitely caught on and he began to abuse that spot with talented calloused fingers. How was the elf supposed to answer his question when the Crow was so insistent on giving mind-blowing pleasure?

     Luckily, Rook was a stubborn man, one who never backed down from a challenge. So he ground back down on the man’s cock, basking in the strangled moan his lover gave. More tears gathered in his eyes, and the way the drool fell from his mouth, he was close to breaking again. The Grey Warden leaned down, pressing their foreheads together as he started to move his hips to the rhythm the Crow had set. “Ask me again, ask me properly,” He hadn’t wanted to sound so desperate, so close to begging but honestly, Lucanis was the one person he was fine seeing in this state, to be seen as this vulnerable. Not that the other man was any better, tears had now started flowing down his cheeks again and it was obvious he was trying hard to stop himself from just babbling again, brow furrowed in thought as he continued to move the elf on his cock and probably trying to collect the words he wanted.

     “Caspian Rook Thorne,” The Warden was surprised to hear his name, causing his walls to flutter around the man’s dick which made him groan but still, he kept moving. “Leader of the Veilgaurd, savior of the world, friend to Wardens, Watchers, Veil Jumpers, Lords, Shadows, and Crows,” Their moves slowed to an agonizingly slow pace but it was because Lucanis wanted their eyes to steady as they stared at each Rook realized. Both stared up blinking at each other. A smile formed on the First Talon’s face, one full of love and admiration. It was so soft, so full of emotion that it made the elf dizzy.

     “Will you marry me?”

     It was Rook’s turn for tears to fall, he hadn’t even realized he had been so close to crying until he already was. What did he care though? His lover just proposed to him, of course, he was going to cry. “Yes,” He whispered, “Of course, I’ll marry you Lucanis,”

It's long I know but their whole engagement makes me sob

Here's the tumblr link to the fic if anyone is curious

May you have an amazing day and don't lick batteries, those aren't for licking -<3 Skunch

[alan-in-the-outernet]

...

So. A certain someone just hit 300 followers on here. I don't even have that many on my main blog! So... wow!

That.. so many people have had or still do have interest in the stuff I do in AvA, whether that's my rambles, my short stories, my art... it just... blows me away, honestly... and you know what?

I thought... why not do a fun thing in celebration...

... :3

I'm gonna do a lil bit of a raffle!

So, here's how this is gonna go- from today, 1/2(Today), to 1/14- (the week after next weeks tuesday), you can either submit, reblog this post with, or send in an ask- a piece of art- and I'm talking multiple forms of art! Drawing, writing, music- etc.

And what will this art be of- my au's! But here's the kicker... I'm talking your oc's, in my au's! I wanna see y'alls characters translated! Of course, if you really want, you COULD do my character's or the canon character's from them- but I'd like to see y'alls!

And for each category you do(drawing, writing, a song, etc) you get an entry! A ticket, basically.

And when 1/14 hits, I'll draw names- and the three top names pulled will get something!

3rd Place - A sketch or snippet of writing from me

2nd Place - A full drawing or one-shot from me

1st Place - A fully rendered drawing or a gif from me!

Now, none of these can be gore, or anything explicit- but otherwise, that's the prizes! And if 1st place wanted something from 2nd place or something like that, I'll give the option of 1st place stuff to 2nd place, etc.

Now.. while yes, there are technically prizes for this- this is honestly just meant to be a fun lil event! Because I want to see how y'alls characters might translate- for the fun of it! And of course, no one has to participate in the end, but... well!

Happy 300 followers ;3

And for those who are interested in possibly participating- I can't wait to see what you do ;3

Open Categories for an entry point(Again you can do multiple!)

Drawing

Writing

Music(Writing a song up, etc, doesn't need to be sung or anything!)

Animating(Please... please don't put yourself through this torture /silly but I thought I'd put it up anywho!)

And maybe other's! I'll edit it if someone has another thought!

[mymovingfingerwrites]

OMG HI MAYA!!!!!!!

hi hi hi its been so long, how are you doing?

I was ecstatic to see those notifications that you answered my asks - I've missed talking with you about ASOR - im metaphorically jumping for joy right now

I hope you've had a wonderful time for however long it's been, I'm wishing you the best in everything. you do cross my mind sometimes, and I'm so thankful for your internet friendship and your story. It's meant the world to me this past year!!! 🩷

Hello!! Yeah I haven't really been on Tumblr too much! And I guess I have a bunch of asks that I didn't even realize that I got. I'm working my way through them now that I have remembered how to get there in the app :)

Life update wise I am still five months away from The Wedding! I'm all out of money and energy at this point. Turns out planning a 4-day Indian Catholic fusion wedding on a budget is just ridiculously difficult and causes endless family drama. Maybe I'll have some good material for whatever I write next 🤦‍♀️

Writing wise I have like four or five stories started but I haven't been able to get over the crucial early bumps and get some momentum. I don't really want to post anything if I'm not going to finish it, but equally so, thinking it might help to get some feedback! So maybe I will post some snippets on Tumblr?

Writing wise, I've also started mentally sketching out an original time travel story. I would have thought I would have said everything I wanted to say about time travel, but I guess not. It's definitely a different beast to try to write something without the comforting structure of a fanfic canon rewrite. By the time I ran out of material to follow along, I had sort of got in my groove with ASOR.

Whether original or fanfic, I just can't get into the groove! I really commend all of you who are writing and publishing original plots. I think ASOR became quite an original plot but it really didn't start there, so I don't really have that much practice in creating a structure to follow. I also lived in Percy's head for so long that I'm struggling to get out of it. Writing is fun but it is so hard!

Just wanted to piggyback on your ask to also express my gratitude for my small Internet community! I really didn't realize until I stepped back how much I was enjoying being a part of it and how motivating it was to exchange ideas. I definitely want to be more active as I emerge from this haze of spreadsheets and floral arrangements and outfit shopping (none of my favorite things tbh) and get back to spending my mental energy on other things!

[novankenn]

Spin-Off Snippets from "A Mafia Au"

Inspiration / Original Post / Follow-up Post

Blake plastered a plastic smile on her face, and pushed a cheery attitude as she wave while Jaune left, with a blush Pyrrha, who was now wearing a matching Pumpkin Pete Hoodie, aside from the emblem on hers was neon pink. Once they were out of sight, she sighed, and started to make her way to the door.

She froze when a rather string hand clamped down on her shoulder. She cursed at herself for tossing away her weapon. While she was a skilled assassin, and very effective with unarmed-combat, she was considerable more effective with a blade. But she tenses her muscles anyway, and prepared to fight.

"So... you're my co-worker?" the slightly unhinged voice floated through the air to Blake's ears. "What's you name?"

"Blake. Blake Belladonna?" she replied while turning her head just enough to see with whom she was speaking. The sight of the deer faunus woman standing next to her, made Blake shiver. The young woman looked good. She appeared to be in decent shape, had a nice figure, a small set of antlers protruded up through her orange-brown hair, plus a warm smile... but it was the eyes. Her eyes looked cold, dead, soulless.

"Well, Blake my name is Deandra Thistle, but my friends call me Deery... you can call me Deery."

"Hi, Deery?"

"So I saw you serving those two customers there." Deery continued without giving Blake a chance to speak. "You did good work, but you need to become more professional, and you SHOULD be wearing your uniform."

"Uniform?" Blake let her eyes wander, and shivered. Deery she assumed was wearing the uniform. White flat sneakers, no socks. Orange-pink cargo shorts, which showed off her calves. She had nice calves, Blake thought for a second, before taking in the remainder of the uniform, which was a purple-blue tee shirt with the Pumpkin Pete logo on the left breast.

"Did they give you a uniform?"

"No?"

"Bastards!" Deery swore. "Okay I think we have some spares in the back, but it's just about closing so, once we cash out, we'll get you one. Sound good?"

"Cash out?"

"Yeah. Run end of day reports. Count the cash in the tills, balance the debit machine. Cash out." Deery eyed Blake with her cold soulless eyes. "Did NO ONE give you any training? Who hired you?"

"Bob?"

"Gods damn it Bob! As if I don't have enough on my plate, you send me people to train and on-board too! Son of a bitch!"

"Sorry?"

"Not your fault Blake." Deery patted Blake's shoulder. "We'll get you all set after end of day. Head to the counter. I'll lock up."

"Okay?" Blake was scared. Her a world class assassin. I hired killer was scared of a retail-wage-slave. It was the eyes. Definitely the eyes.

Cash out and end of day went smoothly, though Blake didn't understand half of what was being done. But after that hour of work, she found herself sitting in the staff room, as Deery handed her a uniform, before sitting down.

"So any questions?"

"Um... I don't think this will..."

"PLEASE DON'T!" Deery cried as she grabbed hold of Blake's hands with vice like strength, while tears fell from her now sorrow filled eyes. "PLEASE Don't leave! I'm here alone... all day... I... I... I need help!"

"It can't be..."

"This place is open from mall open to mall close! That's ten hours, not including opening and closing that I'm ALONE!!!" Deery started to bawl, using her ungodly strength to pull Blake from her seat, and into Deery's crushing embrace. "I need help! I can't even take bathroom breaks!"

Blake didn't know what to do. Of course she could kill Deery, and from the sound of it, doing that would probably put the poor girl out of her misery, but that wasn't how Blake conducted business. She prided herself on never having any colleterial damage on her jobs.

"Maybe I can try for one more day?" Blake whimpered out, as Deery was slowly starting to suffocate her.

"Really?" Deery sobbed out, releasing Blake from her deadly embrace. "Really?"

"Yes?" Blake replied, still trying to catch her breath and get the feeling back into her limbs.

"YES!" Deery cheered, jumping from her seat, and pulling Blake off her knees into another crushing hug. Blake was starting to feel like the antler's were fake, and Deery was in fact an Anaconda Faunus. Luckily this hug was not a tight or long.

"So nine... am?" Blake asked hesitantly.

"Wait." The soullessness returned to Deery's eyes. "What training did you have, and what is you schedule?"

"None, and I don't have one?"

"Damn it Bob!" Deery snorted, and then took a calming breath. "Did they tell you anything at head office?"

"No?"

"Okay. Put your stuff in a locker, the key will be taped on the inside of the door."

"Okay?"

"Then we are going to have a little staff slash team meeting at Junior's."

"We are?"

"Yep. We are."

(A/N - I never do much with B lake, so I figured why not. World Class assassin scared into working retail by a desperate and soul broken "co-worker"... what could go wrong? )

[kraken17]

Well, would you look at that...

At the time of posting this:

Altogether Ooky (or, Into the Wednesday-Verse)

Words: 69,332 Subscriptions: 565 Hits: 76,174 Kudos: 2,531 Comment Threads: 714 Bookmarks: 362

Kooky Spooky (or, Across the Wednesday-Verse)

Words: 142,582 Subscriptions: 455 Hits: 64,778 Kudos: 1,775 Comment Threads: 1,270 Bookmarks: 191

Counting by number of hits, Altogether Ooky is the 69th work of 11,166 in the Wednesday (TV 2022) fandom. Kooky Spooky is the 92nd.

And although this whole post may seem like a mere ego trip (ok, maybe it is a little bit... but look at those pretty numbers! 🤩), the truth is that it is more of a reminder of the many reasons why I should never stop thanking all of you who have given a chance to this madness that I started writing at the end of 2022, thinking that a trio of humorous snippets could be the basis for something longer.

Thank you all very much. I'll see you in the next story 😉