#Had the time of my life writing down my borderline fanfic

[moistrodent]

Woo! V (not calling her by her original name) redesign, also some thoughts about her in the main series and in my rewrite (I’ll post about it at some point).

So I don’t really like her in the main series, she’s fine but her whole personality revolving around Charlie is…weird. It feels codependent and really one-sided? There isn’t much that I can about her as a character because her character is “Charlie’s girlfriend.” I preferred her in the pilot, as much her writing wasn’t perfect. And the reveal of her being an angel meant fucking nothing. The drama between her and Charlie lasted for one episode and then in one episode she was joking about being an angel.

In my rewrite she was a Salvadoran weapons dealers, she died in 2011 at like…25-29. Choose which one you the best. She got send to hell for killing a client out of rage then killing herself out of guilt. Very upbeat I’m aware. She met Charlie while roaming the streets of hell right after an extermination searching for angelic weapons, she and Carmilla were enemies at some point but then just became rivals because V did not have NEARLY as much power as Carmilla (she was in the industry for about…10 years? Give or take a couple years) . V was the main reason she started the hotel, lost sinners who fucked but in the end didn’t deserve eternal damnation. She isn’t FULLY invested in the idea of redemption but she doesn’t quite think it’s impossible. Also she can’t fly very well by the way. She’s trying is basically the story of her life in both the real world and in hell. She’s a moth because they represent change! Also because the idea of her being weirdly short is kinda funny to me. She can pick up Charlie in one hand.

[mirandapriestlyswife]

Mirandy Fanfic- Apocalypse Au: Prologue

Hi! Before you read I would just like to say as a disclaimed this is my first fanfic and it has not been peer reviewed or anything of that sort so I apologize for any spelling or grammatical mistakes. This AU is heavily inspired by “Last Man on Earth” and I intend to write multiple chapters for it. Constructive criticism is welcome! Please enjoy :)

New York City, the city that never sleeps. Theres always some type of noise; sirens, traffic, yelling… Theres always some type of noise. Something to serve as a reminder that, “Hey! You aren’t the only person in the whole world!”. At least thats what it used to sound like..

Tonight, all that could be audible was the rustling of trash in the frigid November air. Andrea Sachs, Andy, former reporter for The Mirror marched her way down block after block. She couldn’t pin point exactly when the pandemic began. Early March of last year perhaps? Or maybe mid February? She couldn’t remember.. Hell, she was still trying to process the fact that everyone, everything she once knew was dead and gone.

New York City had been put under lockdown almost immediately after the United States government had declared a national pandemic. Andy hadn’t seen her parents since..

Sure, they’d talk over the phone, but there was little to talk about when the entire world was practically put on pause. She heard from her sister, Jill, every once in a while, but she had her own problems.

Andy had borderline lost complete touch with her entire family by August of that year, until she was notified that she had lost not one, but both parents to the infection. Both dead at home, not even in a hospital. Soon followed her nephew, then her sister, then her sister’s husband. In only a matter of 6 months she had lost the people most important to her.

After her and Nate, her ex boyfriend, had split, her childhood best friend had graciously allowed her to crash on her couch until she found her own place. Living with Lily was… Well.. Not the easiest.. Somehow this girl, even in the midst of a global pandemic, still managed to bring home a guy every weekend. At the time Andy had debated killing Lily on more than one occasion.. Oh how she envies those times. Two months later, Lily passed. The hospitals were already crammed to the brim with patients so, just like her parents, her best friend had died at home.. But this time, it was even worse, since she was the one to discover that body.

Andy had always been sensitive, possibly too much so. But she can’t recall a time she had cried harder than when looking at the lifeless corpse of the girl she’d known for more than half her life. Oh Lily..

She got laid off the next week. You would think the world of journalism would be booming during such trying times? But no. People simply stopped reading the paper. “Too depressing” is what she remembers her mother saying when Andy had asked if they had seen the latest death poll. She couldn’t blame people for not reading the news. God knows she would’ve too if it wasn’t the only thing keeping her from going insane. With every book in her apartment being read more than twice, along with having long ran out of DVDs, the only thing she could find comfort in now was the constant cycle of magazines and newspapers placed at her apartment door every morning. Eventually that stopped coming too.

Eventually.. Everything stopped. Electricity, running water, food. It just all.. Came to a halt. People seemed to have disappeared. It was like the entire human race just one day packed their bags and left Andy there. Alone. She was all alone. She cried over the fact a lot. No, not cried.. More like wailed. Wailed as loud as one could, hoping that someone, something would hear her, and come over and bring her into a warm comforting hug..

Of course the chances of that were 0 but.. She still had some hope. Tonight, Andy lazily roamed around the streets of New York, glancing into long abandoned shops and restaurants.. Often times she found herself sleeping in luxurious hotels and suites for free. I mean, why not? If theres no one there to charge you or say, “Ma’am this is an art museum, you cant stay here.” Why not sleep in The Met??

She walked with purpose down those cracking sidewalks, even though in reality she knew she had nothing left to live for. Had she contemplated suicide? On multiple occasions. The only reason she was even still alive at all was because she knew her parents would’ve wanted her to keep going, “keep fighting” her father would say. Andy sighed, what purpose was fighting if there was nothing to fight for? She walked aimlessly for hours, only stopping every so often to raid a bodega for a bag of expired chips. She rarely thinks of her time at Runway, or at least she tries not to, since it just opens up a can of unresolved feelings that she cares not to open. She wonders what those clackers would think of her now. It makes her chuckle. Thoughts of models with mouths gaping in shock at the sight of Andy Sachs, in her college hoodie and jeans she hadn’t washed since July making her way down Manhattan with a bag of expired Doritos and no makeup, flood her mind, causing the rarest of chuckles to fall from her lips.

The only reason that Runway even popped into her head was due to the sight of the massive, ever-ominous, Elias-Clarke building across the street. Oh how she despised that building. She’d walked past it a million times. One million more times than she had liked to. Every time she saw the damned thing it brought up feelings… Feelings she’d love to forget. Feelings towards fashion, towards Runway, towards her.

The dragon lady, the ice cold bitch of fashion, Miranda Priestly. The woman that had stolen Andreas heart and stomped on with her Prada heels.

Andy cringes at the shameful acts of her past self. Falling head over heels for a woman is one thing.. But falling for a woman 25 years her senior, and thats super rich and powerful?? Oh how could one be so stupid?!

Now here she stands, before her former prison of employment. She’d never actually bothered to intrude the building. She figured she’d find the usual. Abandoned computers, dust bunnies, medical masks, maybe the occasional cockroach. Shockingly, even after seemingly every other living organism had died out.. Or at least reduced in size, cockroaches rained ever strong. Six legged assholes.

Something inside her tells her, “Just go for it. Get some closure.” So, thats exactly what she does. She crosses the empty street, sliding over a taxi that had inconveniently been abandoned in the middle of the road, and walked right up to the front door.

“Its probably locked..” She muttered to nobody. Andy had developed this habit of talking to herself over the months of isolation. It was comforting, to hear a voice. She jiggled the rotating door and to her utter shock. The thing budged. And in one swift motion, she was in the lobby of the Elias-Clarke building once again. Things have hardly changed… Well.. besides the lack of anorexic models talking about how they “Almost called in fat today.” She rolled her eyes at the memory of hearing a 100 pound model saying those exact words to her.

Andy stops at the stairwell. Should she go up to the Runway floor? Why not? Whats the harm? Worst thing that could happen is she cries, and it isn’t like she wasn’t going to do that anyways. She made her way up the stairs. Climbing floor after floor until eventually she found her way to her former place of employment. More like imprisonment, but still. She abandons her empty Dorito bag on her old second assistants desk. She wonders what skinny 5’11 blonde supermodel Miranda had replaced her with. Had her name been Stacy? Or Sylvia? Or-

Andys shocked out of her thoughts when she hears a noise. Walking.. Yeah thats- that’s definitely walking. She stops frozen in place. The building is almost entirely dark besides the sunlight coming from the windows where Mirandas office used to be, so she couldn’t exactly see well. Her whole body starts shaking. What should she do?! She hadn’t seen an actual living person since.. Since.. Since she couldn’t even remember. The walking got louder, the click clack of what sounded like… High heels..? No it couldn’t-

Andys internal monologue is suddenly silenced when she hears a gasp from behind her. Shes too stunned to move, to speak, to do much of anything besides meekly turn her head around. And who is she greeted with?? No one other than the dragon lady herself of course…

“Andrea?” An impossibly regal Miranda Priestly asks.

And thats about it for the prologue! Thank you so much for reading :)

[mephiles97]

Murder Drones AU/Fanfic: "Through The Looking Glass"

AO3 summary: What happens... When you look through a mirror and find out the world is reversed? Is it like looking at the same world but completely different at the same time? Is it like you're looking into a window to a different world? What happens if the world as you knew it was completely flipped upside down? What happens if you look in that mirror and the same person staring back at you... Isn't you anymore? But is someone completely different living life in your shoes on the other side of that mirror?

Beau Doorman is what he'd call an average worker drone... Except maybe not so average by the time you factor in the weird dreams and the crazy over the top inventions. Okaaaaay maybe not as average or as normal as he thinks he is. Any semblance he had to normal flew right out the window with the reappearance of the colony's local drifter, a fateful scavenging trip, and three new friends haunted by their ghosts of the past. With the reemergence of a terrifying program from the past, everyone finds themselves being thrown into a story about found family, loss, grief, and recovering from that grief.

Information about this AU and a link to its fic's first chapter below the cut!

"Through The Looking Glass" (abbreviated to LG from here on) is my personal take on a swap AU! In this AU, MD canon as you know it has been taken and flipped upside down or perhaps more aptly, run through a cracked mirror. This is a character swap AU but the characters and roles have been shuffled around in deliberately wacky and wild combos and not every character/role has a clean 1:1 swap or direct mirror to their canon role

Since LG is a swap AU, this is set to retell all eight (yes, I am aware only seven are out at the time of writing) episodes of Murder Drones but with the swapped characters. Do note this is not just a 1:1 retelling of canon and some scenes are entirely new or have been twisted upside down and all around compared to how they went down in the actual episodes to the point they're almost unrecognizable unless you notice the roots of the scene

As you can see from the AO3 summary I copypasted... This AU stars Beau Doorman as our main character, taking the place of Uzi's role. He was born and raised in Outpost-3 by his parents Alice and Khan Doorman. Unlike canon Nori... Alice did not meet the business end of nanite acid in this AU and has lived to the present day/the fic's start. She is well known around the colony for being a bit of a menace with her hobby of making all kinds of scrap inventions and weaponry

Beau is joined by his childhood best friends Vivian (V) and Thad who happen to be the two most popular kids and the power couple of the school. He has also managed to befriend the mysterious borderline feral drifter named Uzi that's been randomly turning up at his colony for months now before disappearing without a trace again. Nobody knows why that mysterious purple haired girl seems to crawl around on all fours or make warbles and chirping sounds... Or why her systems are seemingly constantly running at feverishly high temperatures

There's also those three disassembly drones that haunt the vertical corpse graveyard outside Outpost-3. Let's take a look at them now, shall we?

Serial Designation B (Braiden) is the appointed leader of the disassembly drone squad and the pilot of their crashed landing pod but he's... sort of known for not feeling much like a leader. He struggles with a lot of fears over failing the squad and letting the people around him down. In fact, he worries so much about letting people down he felt bad when he tried to scare off a certain worker drone he had befriended for their safety...

Serial Designation C (Cyn) is the fastest but physically weakest of the squad due to her body and core being prone to malfunctions. She has good days where she can move about normally but on her worst days she is prone to motor malfunctions as well as voice box malfunctions leading to her voice skipping words or getting stuck. She seems to harbor a lot of guilt over some ghost of the past...

Serial Designation D (Doll) is the strongest of the squad and in a way the secondary leader because B asks for her input or suggestions often when it comes to planning or hunting tactics. She carries the weight of the squad on her back most days and tries to keep B and C from falling apart on her, but she seems to know a lot more about things than she lets on...

None of the three seem willing to mention or talk about the missing fourth drone of their group... None of the three seem willing to discuss the mysterious three-pronged symbol that's popping up on the visor of their new worker friend either. Gee, I wonder why they look so scared...?

Visit the link below to read the first chapter of the AU! Do note this AU is still ongoing so it's not finished yet but I am working on it and post chapters as they're done. Also! My ask box is open if you want to throw a question or two my way about the AU (or my other AUs!)

(And one more quick note: LG here was the first fic I started writing if we don't count two quick shorts I did so the earlier chapters read a bit roughly. If you can bear it, I swear the formatting and wording gets better in the later/newer chapters now that I've had some practice. I will one day go back and edit the earlier chapters of LG to make it easier to swallow but I haven't done that yet at the time of writing this so you have been warned)

[mini-yoongers]

The Morning After

Pairing: Choi San x AMAB pov Genre: Slice of life/smut W/C: 1,117 Stuff: Sub-top San, established couple (cute), non-idol au, anal, kitchen sex, tbh this is borderline vanilla, I'm not like other fanfic writers I'm sorry y/n i literally cannot write in second person this is just what I do, but I hope you enjoy anyway.

If you enjoyed this, I made an AO3 account ok???>>> Arikuusou

Nothing posted yet, but I'm working on it I promise! Will be primarily Ateez fics.

San was always most beautiful the morning after a hard fuck. Watching him walk out of the bedroom all loose bones and floppy hair, a layer of lust beneath the sleepiness in his eyes... God, he was a vision, a seraph, the closest thing to a perfect man if there ever was one.

But he didn't like it when I called him perfect, so I tried to avoid it.

"Morning, sunshine." I smiled at him from where I sat at the kitchen island. He didn't respond in words, but stepped over to drape himself over me.

A signature San hug, hot and enveloping, lingering much longer than one would expect. That had taken me time to get used to in the beginning.

He kissed my neck and then moved away to pour himself a coffee. When he sat across from me, he quirked a brow, realizing I had been watching his every move. "What?"

I shrugged, a little coy. "Just thinking about last night."

He smirked and took his first sip of coffee. "Yeah that was..."

Exceptional. One of our best nights so far. Sometimes it was hard to remember we'd only been together 8 months when it felt like this was always our life, always would be.

"I'm thinking we shouldn't leave the apartment today," I said.

"Pretty windy out there," San agreed with a sly look on his face.

I at least let him get through half his drink before I got up and kissed him, the taste of morning mint and coffee bean filling my mouth. His skin was impossibly smooth, his hair thick and shiny as it tickled my cheek, and I wondered how I got so lucky to have caught this man's eye and heart.

I reached down and found him already rock-hard beneath his boxer briefs, which sent blood rushing between my own legs.

I stroked his cock over the fabric a few times and he abruptly started kissing me hard, biting my lips.

"Ah, ah," I backed away, gently pressing my palm to his chest. "Not too eager now. Have you forgotten all the good lessons you learned last night."

His eyes clouded further. "No, I haven't forgotten."

"Of course not. You're such a good boy. Kneel for me."

No hesitation. He slid from the stool and to the floor, looking up at me for his next instruction.

It killed me the way San loved this; made me somehow horny and sad at the same time. His whole life, he'd always had to perform, always had to be the big man, tough and strong, giving orders. He'd taken his father's company over shortly before I met him, and I saw the toll it took.

But here, with me, he could escape all that. He could just rest, follow my instructions, and not think, not decide.

"Now get my cock out and put your mouth on it."

He was so eager, but trying to hide it.

I sighed as his wet lips enveloped me. He starts gentle but quickly ramps up, sucking my head and all the spots he knows will make me needy fast.

"Fuck," I breathe, amazed as always at him. "Good boy. I'm going to need you to fuck me this morning, Sannie."

"Of course," he exhaled.

I reached over the counter and snatched up a bottle of coconut oil. "Give me your hand."

He offered his palm and I poured the oil on it, not worried about the mess we were starting to make. I leaned back against the island as he took my cock in his mouth again, reaching around to spread my cheeks.

I was still sensitive and turned-on from the night before and moaned loudly when he slipped the first finger in. He smirked up at me and me down at him.

"Get that smile off your face," I breathed as he began easily opening me up. His fingers were so different from his cock, quick and bony and rutted. I almost chided him to slow down but it felt too good and I was way too horny. Some dom I was.

But he would keep going until I told him to stop, so finally I took his wrist and pulled his fingers out of me. He kissed the front of my stomach and hips, and I took his chin in my hand.

"How's your cock feeling, baby boy?"

"So horny," he whispered.

"You want me to put it inside me?"

"Please."

"Beg."

"Please, please, put my cock inside you."

"Are you going to stay still like a good little boy?"

"Yes, I promise."

The way his voice became so soft and desperate, his pure willingness to do everything I asked. My cock was dripping and my insides were screaming for him. I couldn't play around any longer and I pushed him against the counter, looking down at his desperate member. I slathered him with more oil, watching his stomach tighten as I coated him, stroking gratuitously.

His breath caught when I finally turned around and sheathed his cock in my ass. I was rushing, a little, but the burn faded as soon as I tugged his hand around to touch me.

"Fuck," he breathed, his hips jerking an uncontrolled movement.

There was no suppressing the little cry I made, the hitch of breath at him pushing deeper.

I rocked back until I could feel his balls pressing against mine, and then fucked him with all the needy desperation we were both feeling this morning. Mostly, he stayed still like a good boy while I used his cock, moaning loud enough that anyone in the hallway of the building could hear. The noises San made, all suppressed and high and full of release, had my belly swirling.

Already my orgasm was coiling, and I lamented for a moment until I remembered we had the whole day ahead of us. I focused on feeling every inch of his smooth cock inside me again and again. My perfect, smooth San, so hard yet so gentle. I cried out and came all over the clean white kitchen floor. As I clenched and throbbed around him, San could no longer hold still. I felt his nails dig into my skin as he gripped my hips, going stiff and silent in ecstasy as he spilled what little was left from last night deep inside me.

Exhausted, I leaned back against him and he held me. His cock popped out of me with a delicious, wet sound.

"Fuck," I breathed.

"Yeah," San said. "I love you."

"Yeah? Even though I made your coffee go cold?"

He nuzzled into my neck, kissing every bit of skin he could get too. "Definitely." He sighed deeply, a sated sigh, a blissful sigh. "That was a great morning fuck. Perfect."

[lynsterswritingblog]

Writblr Intro

(Repost because I made a separate writing blog)

Yo! Probably should have made this a long time ago, but I’m Lyn (any/all). I write mostly fantasy with a bit of sci-fi thrown in. I deal with a lot of dark subject matter in my work (like I’m scary good at writing mental breakdowns) and also a lot of Queer/LGBT themes and character (token queer? how about token straight). My works are very anime/manga inspired but I try not to be too formulaic. I’m also an artist and frequently draw stuff from my WIPs. I hope to publish one day probably via self publishing.

SINCE I WRITE DARK STUFF AND BORDERLINE HORROR, I WOULD HIGHLY RECOMMEND FOLLOWING WITH CAUTION. I TRY TO BE AS THOROUGH AS POSSIBLE WITH TRIGGER WARNINGS BUT SOMETHING MIGHT SLIP THROUGH THE CRACKS.

coughcough if you are interested in fanfic stuff here are my aus

WIPS

Bleeding Black(Intro)

Seraphina is a normal high-schooler. Well, as normal as hallucinating dead bodies and having an imaginary friend that isn’t that imaginary. All that changes when she picks up a book about an infamous cult. Suddenly, she is tangled up in an ancient conflict spanning generations.

My current flagship. Planning on this to be a multi-book series.

The Masked One(Intro)

The word demon had been thrown at her so much that Zurie forgot the meaning. Then a stranger calling her her “host” walks into her life and she learns that demons are very much real.

This one is unique as it’s going to be a hybrid prose-comic. Still early in development so don’t expect any panels.

The Labyrinth’s Heart(Intro)

Ryo is a detective hired to investigate a cult after a member goes missing. Everything starts normally until they end up in a position where their only choices are to team up with an eldritch horror to take down the cult or become forever missing like so many others.

This is actually a Visual Novel I’m developing. It’s probably going to take a while to come out since am I not done with the script yet and I have a lot of assets to make, including a custom UI.

[thelynsterofroses]

Writblr Intro

Yo! Probably should have made this a long time ago, but I’m Lyn (any/all). I write mostly fantasy with a bit of sci-fi thrown in. I deal with a lot of dark subject matter in my work (like I’m scary good at writing mental breakdowns) and also a lot of Queer/LGBT themes and character (token queer? how about token straight). My works are very anime/manga inspired but I try not to be too formulaic. I’m also an artist and frequently draw stuff from my WIPs. I hope to publish one day probably via self publishing.

SINCE I WRITE DARK STUFF AND BORDERLINE HORROR, I WOULD HIGHLY RECOMMEND FOLLOWING WITH CAUTION. I TRY TO BE AS THOROUGH AS POSSIBLE WITH TRIGGER WARNINGS BUT SOMETHING MIGHT SLIP THROUGH THE CRACKS.

coughcough if you are interested in fanfic stuff here are my aus

WIPS

Bleeding Black(revised intro coming soon)

Seraphina is a normal high-schooler. Well, as normal as hallucinating dead bodies and having an imaginary friend that isn’t that imaginary. All that changes when she picks up a book about an infamous cult. Suddenly, she is tangled up in an ancient conflict spanning generations.

My current flagship. Planning on this to be a multi-book series. Also doing an unique sort of ask game where you get to talk to a character as the primary way to gain info about this WIP (see WIP Intro for details).

The Masked One(Intro coming soon)

The word demon had been thrown at her so much that Zurie forgot the meaning. Then a stranger calling her her “host” walks into her life and she learns that demons are very much real.

This one is unique as it’s going to be a hybrid prose-comic. Still early in development so don’t expect any panels. Will probably set up an ask game thing for this one too.

The Labyrinth’s Heart(Intro coming soon)

Ryo is a detective hired to investigate a cult after a member goes missing. Everything starts normally until they end up in a position where their only choices are to team up with an eldritch horror to take down the cult or become forever missing like so many others.

This is actually a Visual Novel I’m developing. It’s probably going to take a while to come out since am I not done with the script yet and I have a lot of assets to make, including a custom UI.

The Heart Under the Chapel

A family trip goes wrong when they enter a town they can’t quite leave.

A short Telltale Heart inspired horror story I wrote a bit ago. Only a WIP because it’s not published yet.

[kacatshi]

hiya! ive been around this block before under this same url, but deleted that account ages ago. i’ve recently fallen into a black hole of my old fandoms and found my old crankiplier & friends fanfic, so i decided to make a masterlist of it on here since i orphaned that ao3 account. these are all from 2017, yikes, so beware of old references. these are all short one shots.

also i’m not really planning to go back to taking requests/writing fanfic. maybe someday, who knows. i’m still getting back to mark and ethan’s content so there’s a lot i’ve missed lmao but if you’re into RPing and you’re not a minor lmk 👀

Perfect (Mark/Ethan) "Sometimes he remembered being the guy with a small channel whose connection to Mark was being the backflip guy, and when he got back to his present reality Ethan had to physically keep from laughing out of pure glee." Prompt: Crankiplier, first date.

You Make Me Happy When Skies Are Gray (Mark/Ethan) "You never know dear, how much I love you Please don't take my sunshine away." Prompt: College AU mixed with the song Baby It's Cold Outside but less rape-like (too good not to quote word for word).

Home (Mark/Ethan/Tyler) "Whatever he was oblivious to didn’t matter; he still felt like he was home." Prompt: Ethan comes out to Mark and Tyler and things go well, but not when he comes out to his parents.

Storm (Mark/Ethan/Tyler) "There was something about the sight of electricity ripping through the sky and the loud boom that followed that had always scared Ethan since he was a child."

Can You Hear Me? (Mark/Ethan) Prompt: Ethan has a panic attack and Mark comforts him.

Don’t Worry, Baby (Mark/Ethan) It's enough just to make me go crazy, crazy, crazy... ... To be young and in love.

You Can’t Escape Now (Mark/Ethan) Certain offers were hard to refuse if only the right mouth spoke them. Prompt: Dark/Ethan crushy angst.

Homesick (Mark/Ethan) After getting back home, Mark ordered Ethan’s favorite and put on a movie. Ethan instantly brightened up when he saw the opening credits to his favorite film, and his smile grew impossibly wider when dinner was delivered. Prompt: Mark cheers Ethan up.

One Cannot Love Alone (Mark/Ethan)  "Despite feeling like his life had only really gained meaning after the bolt of electric blue had found its way into it, Mark could do nothing but wish… Wait… Hope. One can’t love alone, after all, but it seemed Mark was on his own."

Woes of Bronchitis (Mark/Ethan/Amy) ... Or, the time when Mark got sick (again) and was forced to get some TLC. Prompt: Ethamyplier, fluffy sick fic.

Look At The Stars, Look How They Shine For You (Mark/Ethan) “Alright, I’ll take that bet,” Tyler had said that afternoon with a look of smugness and confidence that should have alarmed Ethan right of the bat, but it didn’t. He couldn’t believe those were the words that would seal his fate. “But if I win, you’re asking Mark out.” Prompt: Crankiplier first date.

White And Gold (With A Dash Of Blue) (Mark/Ethan) He got the chance to admire the way the golden light bounced off Ethan’s bare back, his pale skin looking borderline ethereal in the morning glow. A mess of electric blue created a stark contrast against the crisp while pillows, and Mark sincerely thought the color scheme of the scene was worthy of a painting. Prompt: Crankiplier having a nice, soft morning.

Who You Gonna Call? (Mark/Ethan) ... Not Ethan, probably. “I promise it’s not that scary in there,” Mark said quietly to him as they walked behind the rest of the crew, his voice low as if he was telling a secret. “I’m not scared,” Ethan argued for what felt like the millionth time. “This is just not what I signed up for. ”Prompt: Ghost hunters AU.

Fire And Ice (Mark/Ethan) Pyrokinesis, the psychic ability to manipulate and speed up the atomic state to the point of combustion. Cryokinesis, the psychic ability to manipulate and slow down the the atomic state to the freezing point. Prompt: Crankiplier Superhero AU.

Swing (Mark/Ethan) Ethan thought it was a but unfair, really. How was it so easy for someone to open up the way Mark did? It simply came up in conversation one day, seemingly out of nowhere, and next thing he knew Ethan was processing the information that Mark swung both ways. Or every possible way, as Mark had put it. Ethan got a strange, vivid image of Mark on a swing flailing out of control and being completely calm about it. Prompt: Ethan and Mark coming out to Teamiplier.

Not Quite Romeo And Juliet (Mark/Ethan)  "In Ethan’s wildest dreams they would both get leading roles in the cheesiest love story to ever grace the mediocre stage of their school and they would repeatedly kiss in rehearsal because the final product had to be just right." Prompt: High school AU where Mark and Ethan are the leads for a play and the characters hate each other but Mark and Ethan are in love.

Soft Spot (Mark/Ethan/Amy) On the first day, Ethan left the coffee shop a little dazed after the smile the pretty blonde flashed him. The next time he went there he left the place downright melting after the handsome brunet winked at him. Around the sixth or seventh time Amy drew a heart next to his name on his cup; when Ethan walked into the apartment his roommate stared long and hard at the cup and then just turned around and left. Prompt: ethamyplier coffee shop AU

Swaying (Mark/Ethan) “Slow dancing is the easiest thing to do. You’re just--- Swaying.”

Hold On To That Feeling (Mark/Ethan) Mark thought his head was going to explode this past week alone. He hadn’t gotten to a concrete conclusion either, which made it all that much more frustrating… Until tonight, when Ethan was leaning against the wall staring at his can of soda, looking bored out of his mind in this “party” that he’d only come to because Mark asked him to. Why had Mark asked him to? Oh, right. He wanted an excuse to be with Ethan outside of school. The conclusion presented itself to him. Fuck it, Mark thought, and that was about it. Or: Mark insists he's not gay. Until he's not insisting anymore. Writing prompt: (high school au) Ethan has had a crush on Mark for a really long time. He’s told Mark and Mark had insisted that’s he’s straight. One night it’s just Ethan and Mark driving around, and they end up getting food or something and then making out.

[yourghastlycloseness]

i’ve just skimmed—not read—esther yi’s y/n

i was rly into kpop at one point and was writing all these unhinged fanfics abt kpop idols and confessional borderline psychotic unsent letters to idols lmao so the premise of this book intrigued the fuck out of me

i can’t say i love y/n. at times, sometimes, the writing feels like an artistic choice; at other times, it feels like the work of someone who swallowed “the big book of big words” overnight and just spent a week hanging out with cloistered academics and grad students. yi’s writing reminds me of this girl’s blog i used to read: she was pretty, a soci major who was always blogging abt getting good grades at school in stilted language in her posts ie. kind of like this “…everyday capitulations that chipped away at a monument of seriousness that was a soul…” (from y/n)

i respect the ambition yi had for this novel. there are descriptions of love that i’ve probably scribbled somewhere in my most private diary entries. the all-consuming, down on your knees nature of it, directed not even at a person, but the force of their being—a concept of them

i’ve felt that sort of love for idols and artists i respect and real people in my life whom i never get to know. it’s devotional. inquiring but not demanding

i’ll take my time with this book if i can. i need a restart with it. i picked it up thinking it was either a YA novel or chick lit, then wanted to put it down bcos i cldnt stand the writing—wrote it off as pretentious, but it was weird enough that i couldn’t look away, and i just had to see where it was going. turns out it’s actually everything i love and care about: surrealism, philosophical provocations about idol-fan relationships and comparisons of that to religion

the way the narrator loves moon is the way one loves god

^ from an interview with yi

i love that. the idea of writing being almost like the only way of interacting with the objects of her desire

writing is definitely part wish fulfilment. it’s smth i’ve noticed with my classmates and is a trap i’m very careful not to walk into

[dragooned-speaks]

Down Into The Empty Pit of H*ll

Hello ppl! My first attempt at an actual fandom fic, and since I never watched the streams, I did my best but some details may be off. Also, this applies to personality. I did my best to write them in character, but when you’re relying on fanfics to do this… yeah. Also, Tommy was exiled on an island.. right? I tried not to cuss for Tommy so… Also, this might be stretching the timeline (I’m not that up to date on Dream SMP), and this probably didn’t happen, but I wrote this. Now it’s my headcanon (my first!) Also, fair warning, I didn’t read through this after writing it. Whelp, gotta pray on my life for it I guess.

TWs: Death, Temporary Death, Major Character Death, Permanent Deaths, Limbo, Dead People, Bleeped Out Cusses, Angst Without A Happy Ending, Spoilers for Dsmp, Killing, Slight gore? (Aka dead body right after dying), This Is Kinda An Ambiguous Ending, Possession, Illusions, Limbo, Emotional Damage, characters that are (probably) ooc.

“Why don’t you go see him then.”

With those words, the moldy, brown green potato hit him for the last time, and-

THUD

Cold concrete pressed against his skin as the freezing temperature jump started him once more. He had definitely broken something, and he could practically hear his wings screaming in pain. He brought his hands up to push away the dirty, grimy blond hair before freezing. His hands were calloused from exile, but he swore he had at least dunked his hair in water once or twice in the cold, briny water of the sea that surrounded his island.

“Tommy?”

The voice trembled in the air, as if it might fall flat of its target. It was quiet, somber, and yet… it was familiar to him.

Turning, he found himself faced with his.. his brother. But there was something wrong with him. His once peachy, vibrant skin had dulled to an ashy gray, worse than Pogtopia, borderline monotone. His wings were no longer brown, rather ragged and gray not unlike Ghostbur’s. Bright warm brown eyes were empty like the void and dark like the corners of this strange hall.

His brown, fluffy hair he loved to spend so long caring for was limp and dull, sporting a white streak. The beanie he loved so much was tattered and worn, and it looked years older than when Tommy had last seen it.

“You died?” Wilbur asked, without beating around a bush as he would have before.

Confused, the young avian tilted his head.

“I… didn’t die?”

Wilbur smiled, but it looked sad, and tears that used to flow stained his face.

“That’s what they all say, don’t they?”

Dying… suddenly, a light brown blob flashed before his eyes, being swung straight towards him as he closed his eyes, waiting, as he heard the sadistic laugh of the one named-

“Tommy?”

A cry of agonizing pain shook the halls, and Tommy jumped as his reddish brown wings ruffled in panic. He turned over to see… Wilbur, flickering as he fell to the floor. Without knowing it, Tommy was instantly at his side, easing him back to his feet.

“What happened W- what happened?”

He wasn’t ready to say the name just yet.

Again, Wilbur flashed him that same sad smile he had before.

“It’s Dream, Tommy.”

Confusion must have been clear on his face, as Wilbur took in a deep breath before speaking.

“The wielder of the Revival Book controls limbo-“

“The Revival Book?!” Tommy interrupted. “It’s real?”

“Yes, Tommy,” Wilbur said, smile somehow even sadder. “It’s real, and its wielder controls limbo, whether it’s pleasant or terrible, or if it feeds off your fear.”

“Dream…”

“Yes, and I was chosen for this position.”

“What position?”

“I have to show people the way and send them on to their limbo.”

Tommy’s blue eyes quickly snapped towards Wilbur’s face from where they were straying away.

“Wait what?!”

Wilbur’s eyebrows bent in a u shape, as if sympathetic.

“The limbo knows all I want is to keep people safe, so now I have to send people off knowing that they’ll be suffering.”

“Why can’t I just stay here though?” Tommy asked, head tilting in the bird like way he tended to. “What’s stopping me?”

“Oh, Tommy, I would keep every spirit here if I could, but I can’t.”

“Well- that’s- that’s stupid!” Tommy spat, turning his head away before Wilbur could see his watery eyes.

Suddenly, Wilbur’s eyes shot open, and his body stiffened.

“Wilbur?” Tommy tried.

“Glad to see you two have been getting along,” Wilbur sneered.

Immediately, Tommy stiffened, recognizing the sadist’s voice.

“Oh, come on Tommy,” Wilbur grinned. “Playtime’s over now.”

“Get the f*ck away b*tch!” Tommy cried, scrambling backwards, tears evaporating in his fear.

“Come on, that’s no way to treat your only friend, is it now?”

Tommy flinched, and slowly glanced up, feeling the feathers on his head poof as he saw Wilbur’s eyes glowing that hateful shade of green as strings held his brother up like a puppet. Before he registered what was happening, “Wilbur” grabbed his arm and dragged him into a subway train that had come without him noticing.

As “Wilbur” threw him into the train car, he saw tears glistening in the dark eyes of his once brother.

“Goodbye Wilby.” He whispered, and by magic, which was probably true, Wilbur heard him.

As the train doors began to close, Tommy saw Wilbur’s eyes no longer glowing as he ran toward the shutting doors, full on crying. As the train began to move, he barely caught the whisper of sound that left his brother’s lips.

“Goodbye Toms.”

Tommy didn’t know how long it was until the train doors opened, only that it felt like months had passed in the small, compact compartment he was shut in. He grew used to the hard, plastic chairs and the shade of green that ruined his life striped against the gray iron of the walls. He knew where everything was, so there was no need to open his eyes. It hurt when he kept them open too long. Finally, when he felt like he was going stir crazy, the doors finally opened.

Slowly, Tommy’s eyes peeled open, and all he saw was a hazy version of the hall he had left Wilbur in. Wilbur…

As he focused his eyes, he jumped when he saw Wilbur’s sad, somber face appear in the mist. But something was wrong… his eyes glistened like a mad man, and he held his hands near a- Tommy’s heart dropped. He held his hand near a button.

The Button.

“It was never meant to be!” Wilbur shouted at the sky.

Tommy sprung at him, muscles coiled tight as his wings beat to help him travel towards his avian brother.

“No!”

Wilbur slammed his hand on the button, and everything burned a bright color. Tommy braced himself, wings instinctively covering his head and body with the soft feathers. When the painful glare dimmed and his eyes weren’t killing him, he opened his eyes. There it was, L’manberg, in all its unfinished glory.

“Do it Philza, kill me!”

“Yo-you-re- You’re my son!”

“They all want you to, look at them!”

Tommy ran towards the pair, already knowing what had happened on November 16th. He tackled towards Phil, only to fall straight through, landing hard and skidding on the cold concrete flooring.

“Do it, Killza kill me!”

Tommy heard a gut wrenching scream, and as he turned, he froze at the body of his brother, cradled in the hands of his killer.

As he turned, the mist filled the empty space as he curled into a small ball in that empty, green fog filling his senses. How long had it been since he entered his limbo? It felt like years, ticking by as voices spoke seemingly in his ear to gain his attention and force him to live through another scene that he runs from.

“We have a traitor here in our midst.”

The execution.

“You wanna be a hero Tommy?”

Technoblade’s betrayal.

“It’s for the peace, Tommy.”

The betrayal of Tubbo, his best friend.

“Tommy. You f*cked up.”

Scared, Tommy’s wings poofed out again, and he subconciously jerked his head towards the voice. As he focused, bright green eyes shone in the darkening mist. The unnaturally pale fingers grabbed at his arm once more and tugged him upwards.

“F*CK!” Tommy screamed, and no, he did not scream like a little girl.

He screamed like the big man he was. The ceiling rushed towards him, closing in as he reached the roof of his limbo- and passed straight through. For another eternity he couldn’t breathe, couldn’t see, couldn’t think, as he hurtled through dark void after dark void.

He glimpsed a broken man, bottles littering the floor and ram horns jutting into his eyes. A short, squat man wearing a mustache and a brightly colored sombrero patterned with red, green and white sticking out his tongue while crying out of his left eye at the sight of hundreds of dead bodies. So many others flashed by, limbo after limbo as Tommy shot upwards, dragged by the hand of his “friend”.

Finally, he broke through the surface, appearing in a small obsidian box with lava for a wall. He gasped for breath as he lay, heaving on the mix of crying and normal obsidian.

“How long were you down there Tommy?”

Tommy ignored him.

“I said.”

Fingers grabbed harshly at Tommy’s face, pulling it to look up at the face of the liar, the psycho, the crazy manipulator who ruined his life. His supposed friend smirked down at him, green eyes glowing maniacally.

“How long. Were you down there?”

“I- I don’t know,” Tommy rambled. “A- a week- a month? Ph-Phil, where’s Phil? Where’s Fundy? Where’s Jack? Anybody?!”

At the final sentence, he looked around the cell desperately.

“Tommy-“

“L- let me go you b*stard.”

“TOMMY!”

Silence followed the loud yell that Dream had emitted as Tommy cowered beneath the older man.

“You were down there for two days.”

“Wha- what?”

“Two days, Tommy, no more, no less.”

Tommy, however, wasn’t listening as he looked at his back. Or rather, his wings. They were gray, twisted masses that, instead of Wilbur’s new bright blue like Ghostbur’s when he hands out his blue, it was a dark, leafy green that leered at him.

“Tommy. Are. You. Listening.”

Each and every syllable was an angry breath. Tommy slowly cranked his head upwards, as he say Dream readying another starch filled punch.

“Maybe now you’ll learn to listen.”

As the fist charged towards his face, a new but prominent instinct in Tommy took hold, and he phased through the punch. He wanted to laugh at Dream’s shocked face, but he was too scared.

He had finally cracked, and he yelled with all his might, “SAM! HELP! HE’S KILLING ME!”

Dream flinched away from the yell and another voice was heard in the distance.

“I’m coming Tommy! Just hang on!”

The lava slowly stopped dripping downwards and Tommy stepped onto the platform.

“Suck it, green boy.”

As he was leaving he brought his hands up once more to brush away the blonde locks- but once again he froze. A huge chunk of his hair had a white streak, just like the one he saw in Wilbur’s hair.

[grimecrow]

Here’s My Favorite Ship And The Fanfic Events It Inspired...

To say that the online space is becoming more and more unsafe would be a bit of an understatement. Watching the degrading state of social interaction in the internet and the rise of bigotry and hatred sometimes there is an urge to step back completely but instead I think I’m just gonna take the plunge and see what happens.  I’m gonna tell you about my favorite ship and all the fics it’s inspired that I haven’t finished writing yet. This will also expose me as a fanfiction writer and get me put on the appropriate block list (if you know you know).

It’s all below the ‘keep reading’ line for those interested.

My favorite pairing is from MTV’s Teen Wolf and it’s NigelLeedsxIsaacLahey or Niac as I call it. Yep it’s OCxcanon!  Nigel Leeds is a direct descendent of Mother Leeds thirteenth child; that’s right he’s a Jersey Devil. My Teen Wolf world Jersey Devils gain their power from killing and eating people or supernaturals though they can eat pretty much anything. At the age of ten you are supposed to move off beef and chicken instead starting to WILLINGLY eat people to help you grow big and strong but Nigel refuses and suffers a very miserable, painful life as a result. Eventually, years later, he still hasn’t broken, still refuses to eat people but the abuse has worn him out. Thanks to his sister though instead of laying down and dying he runs away.  Ending up in Beacon Hills just before season one starts and through a turn of events he ends up in the care of an Argent that disowned the family after the Hale house incident as their ‘foster child’. Which leads to a lot of awkward moments when Chris and co move to town. Eventually Nigel meets bisexual disaster Isaac and the two fall in love. One of my favorite dynamics is how Nigel, in human, is borderline dainty than Isaac and there are some cute comments about it but when Nigel is in his Devil form he is near nine feet and can carry his werewolf boyfriend like a purse dog.  From there life is hectic for the pair. Not only the stuff that happens in the series but for the first time in a long time Nigel finds out that he has somewhere he belongs when Scott declares to Nigel’s father, the most powerful Jersey Devil currently alive (who came to Beacon Hills to kill Nigel for daring to try to be his own person) that Nigel is a part of Scott’s pack so the true alpha is more than willing to go toe to toe with the man to keep Nigel safe.  That’s when Nigel has his own ‘true alpha moment’ where through his connection to the pack and his love Isaac he awakens his own true strength becoming the equal to his father. Turns out the reason why Devils get the most strength from eating humans and supernaturals is because their soul is starved of the strength that comes from connections. When they eat a human they devour the soul as well and gain the strength from the connections the person had but because they are secondhand connections they get spent and the Devil’s soul starves again. Turns out Nigel is what the original Jersey Devil could have been if it had been nurtured by Mother Leeds rather than left to it’s own nature to survive.

But there are smaller things that happen in the stories that warm my heart to think on: - Isaac falling in love with the outdoors through camping with Nigel. - Nigel, thanks to his Jersey Devil strength and stamina, working double or when he can triple jobs to put Isaac through college without them having to worry about tuition, books, or student loans. - Isaac becoming a park ranger to not only continue his love of the outdoors but given they end up getting a place right near the park be able to run the cover that is necessary from time to time when raising their young family.  - Yes, Nigel has kids through surrogates to help ensure his line continues with the new lessons Nigel has learned and continue this new breed of ‘California Devils’. - Nigel sitting their teenage daughter down to explain to her how, yes, getting tangled up with werewolves leads to nothing but trouble and Isaac agreeing.

And yeah...that’s the basics of things. I won’t lie while I was typing this out I felt honestly borderline afraid to post this. Who knows what types of horrible responses this will get me.  Oh well.

[jgoose13]

Chenford + “it’s not funny”

Also question, any more mob boss fanfic in the future???

Send me a ship + a sentence and I’ll write the next 5 [or more] sentences.

You can bet your sweet ass there'll be more Mob Boss fanfic, Anon! I've got a one shot Chenford Bingo fill I wrote that will be posted soon, and of course, will be working on the main fic. In the mean time, I hope you enjoy this little slice of life.

CW: Knife use, violence, blood, a little bit of sexy times

At the sudden change in tone, humor bleeds from the man's face. The laughter that had been spilling from his lips stops, and the terror returns.

"I don't see how stealing from me is... funny, Mr. Flynn."

"But you were just--"

"I said..." Tim says firmly, and deadly calm. "... stealing from me is not funny."

"Honey, don't be mean," Lucy purrs, gliding up to his side. She puts her palm between his shoulder blades and rubs soothingly. "You get the man thinking the situation is funny, you give him false hope."

Tim is putty beneath her fingers, tense shoulders relaxing. He sits in his chair, his throne, a solid wood antique. In this chair, he means business. Deals were made in this chair. Lives were decided in this chair.

Like the life of the man before him.

Tim reaches out, curling his arm around Lucy's waist to bring her closer to his side. His right hand.

"Like the false hope he gave me? With entrusting him with my money?" Tim asks, tipping his head back to look up at her, his eyes instantly softening, the scowl disappearing a little.

Lucy shrugs loosely, the hand on his back climbing up, across his neck and into the shorter hair. Her small fingers dig into his scalp with the pressure she knows he likes, and he nearly groans. "I don't understand sometimes why you alpha males feel the need to play with your food before eating it. Just do what needs doing and be done with it. Stanton was the same."

Tim lets out an audible growl, his arm tensing, almost crushing her to his side. "Please, baby, do not compare me to that shit stain."

"You're right," Lucy replies softly, before leaning in to kiss the top of his head. "My apologies, love."

"S'okay," Tim says, glancing up at her again this time with a borderline dopey smile. He can never be mad at her. Not even a little.

"So, what did Mr. Flynn do, my love?" Lucy asks, bringing their attention back to the matter at hand.

"He stole product, thought he could hide it and make money for himself off of it."

Lucy heaves a troubled sigh, shaking her head. "You really can't find any good help these days, can you?"

"Unfortunately, no. But perhaps his most grievous sin?" Tim pauses for effect because he is nothing if not a dramatic bitch at times. "It was the product we were going to sell and donate the money to the community center."

Lucy is silent, and Tim knows that is never a good sign. Not a good sign for Mr. Flynn anyway. She sucks in a deep breath, and that's when Tim knows.

Without a word, she leans in again to press a soft but lingering kiss to Tim's cheek. It's a distraction, not for Tim. No, not at all. Tim tries to hold back the smirk brewing as he watches her free hand slip down to her stylish ankle boots. There's the flash of gunmetal gray, and with a deft flick of her wrist, Lucy opens her butterfly knife and throws it. Striking true, the sharp edge of the blade slides into Mr. Flynn's Adam's apple. In a blink, the man collapses to the ground, hands clutching at his throat, trying to gasp for breath. The blood is filling his lungs, and he's choking on it, the wet sound gurgling for a few seconds before he finally goes still.

"No matter how many times I see you work, I'm still amazed," Tim says, wonder tinging his words.

Lucy swings around, sitting easily and comfortably in his lap. She's smiling, very pleased with herself.

"The community center--" She starts, the smile waning. Tim can't stand to see that happen.

"I've got it covered," he assures her, wrapping both arms around her.

"You are my hero," Lucy croons, the smile returning in full force. Tim can't help but return it. It's so damn contagious. He looks up at her, eyes hooded and darkening.

"Kiss me then," he orders.

Lucy does, kind of. She teasingly presses her lips to Tim's mouth, and then sinks her teeth into his bottom lip. Not enough to draw blood, but enough to sting. She tugs, and Tim damn near gets light headed with how fast his cock gets hard.

"You're playing with fire," he grumbles when she pulls away with a pleased grin.

"Ooooh, I'm so scared," she replies, offering a clear challenge.

Never one to back down, Tim surges up, dropping her flat on her back on his long conference table. Then, he fucks her until her cries of ecstasy fill the room.

[kiwi-the-first]

The Best Lover In The Parsec

Oneshot

Pairing: Din Djarin x GN!Reader

Fandom: Star Wars/The Mandalorian

CW: Fluff oh gods so much fluff, *slaps roof of the fic* this baby can fit so much yearning in it! Salt bae angst action, guest appearance of one(1) line of having the word "making love" and including one corny joke.

TW: mention of near death experience,self loathing,body image issues,canon-typical violence.

A/N: I keep mentioning it, this is my first piece of fanfiction writing. So I really really hope you guys like it. I am scared shitless. Never thought I'd ever write this but 2020 said fuck it you're writing fanfics now. Special thanks all of my writer friends for encouraging,helping and inspiring me everyday into making this happen. Iysm!

Enjoy!

- Kiwi

Masterlist

You.

He didn't know what to do with you.

He couldn't explain what you made him feel.

He couldn't explain how you made him feel.

But he knew the answers, he knew the words to describe it. He knew the scent of you and the dreamy sigh that escapes him everytime,he enters the fresher after your shower. 

He knew the sound of your voice and how it soothes his longing soul and fills in for the silence of the crest, or "home" as you liked to call it.

How he instantly melted after hearing you speak his name for the first time.

You knew it was sacred due to his creed but he had insisted that he trusted you well enough to tell you.

“Din Djarin?” you asked and he nodded. 

“What a beautiful name” you smiled.

He breathing hitched and swore to the Mythosaur he never saw anything as pure as that. Well maybe the kid but he was your foundling so of course.

You two are the most precious purposes to him.

Your eyes, so beautiful that he couldn't stop looking at them, a colour picked by nature itself and poured in by artists. Filled with a cacophony of emotions he willingly drowned into.

He knew the curves and nicks of your body.

You trusted him,let him be near you and patch you up when needed. He knows your loathing regarding it,knows the borderline ambiguity and acceptance you have towards loving yourself.

He knows how you confine yourself in the mere image of a fighter.

He knows it well because he does it too. Still he thinks that you manage to be kinder than he could ever be.

You. He keeps falling for you. Deeper and deeper in an infinite pit of ecstasy that most would call love. 

You're all on his mind lately. Still he doesn't know what to do.

--

He knew your actions.

He knew how you fight, how you patch him up,how you show your affection in silent gestures. Ways you cradle the kid and play little games with him but also scold him when it’s needed. The way his chest tightens with that one particular feeling, seeing the two of you like that.

The three of you are safe,laughing just enjoying each other’s presence and looking like a perfect family,an aliit.

Everytime he associates the word with you two he feels a wave of calmness crash over him.

But he’d be lying if it also didn’t make him want to be disintegrated by his own pulse rifle. It was too much how you constantly took care of the two of them.

How you silently admire him when you think he's looking at the stars. When in reality he's looking at you.

He’s always looking at you, looking out for you two.

But do you feel it too? He doesn't have the courage to ask.

He never did. He'd die a thousand different deaths as a coward than be left alone without you beside him.

Your soul, the purest most perfect thing to him deserves someone better. That is what he constantly told himself.

He never intended to be vulnerable with a stranger yet there you were and here he was. But only you weren't a stranger,not anymore. 

If he hadn't known any better he would go as far as calling you his soulmate. Silly it may seem.

A big,bad Mandalorian bounty hunter believing in soulmates, but it was the truth.

You're the one holding his heart. But still he doesn't know what to do.

--

But then it changed, years of travelling together and months on the run raising the little green bean whom you both love and protect with your entirety. Maybe this was where it all ended.

He has been in bad situations before, true. But death was something he never thought he'd have to possibly greet in front of you.

 He first noticed your eyes, all the other emotions were set aside as they made room for fear and hopelessness of losing him. Your pretty lips that he always craved to kiss were trembling as you held him close to you.

One hand holding his as tightly as possible while the other cradled under his neck.

He knew he should've told you, he wanted to, desperately. But surely, he couldn't do it now...right? You didn't deserve a last moment declaration of love but lose said lover and live in vain for the rest of your life.

But the maker played him again. Surprise!surprise! He didn’t die.

After the chaos and dangers were all done, the three of you left Nevarro, and the crest jumped into hyperspace he started to prepare himself.

You barely spoke to him as you were down in the hull with the kid.

After you tucked in the kid in the sleeping compartment and came to the cockpit to sit down he started preparing.

He didn't know how much time had passed but he was still silent and...well he scoffed at himself, still ‘’preparing’’.

But suddenly you got up from your seat, fumbling a little, clearly trying to say something.

"I need to talk to you" his entire body froze. 

Whatever it was, it scared him. He felt nauseous all of a sudden.

"...about today". 

Oh, his anxiety got the best of him. He was always the rusher and in the moment of weakness he couldn't control himself.

"Mando I think you shou-"

"I'm in love with you" he felt his voice slightly crack.

--

You blinked once,twice, mouth slightly agape. Tears started pooling in your eyes…

Shit shit shit shit it wasn't supposed to happen like this!!!

You were probably telling him how you'd much rather be without him and be safe far away from him and he fucked it all up.

Again he was gonna ruin something because he had no self restraint.

He was confused when you lurched your body to his chest, hugged him tightly and started sobbing.

Was this normal? When a person wants to leave you they don't do thi-

He heard your shaky voice let out a breath and then a

"I love you too" 

Huh?

Oh- 

OH!

He could faint right now. He could die and be alive again. If someone told him to befriend a jedi right now he would. 

It took him a while to process your words,probably because of that brain injury IG informed him about, he thought to himself. 

He was irrevocably happy.

Just...happy...and sated, but he also felt like someone ran over him with a mudhorn.

You loved him. You loved him.

You loved him back.

You-

--

He looks down at you. Sleeping silently curled up against him, holding him close.

This has been like that ever since. 

Ever since you both declared that all those touches were indeed electrocuting,that all those late night heart-to-hearts weren't just conversations to pass the time,how he longed to take your hands in his. 

Or how you wanted to take off his kriffing helmet so that you could see his eyes and what they hid, or kiss his lips yet you resisted.

It’s been a while, he thinks.

Since you settled down for your happy ending...or was it a beginning? He likes to think it's a little bit of both.

It was something he'd never thought he'd have. Since you learnt that the kid’s people were gone. Since the kid truly became your own in every sense.

But frankly if he was being honest Din didn’t ever want to give him away and neither did you. Your son,your Ad’ika. You now had the privilege to call him that with the permission from The Armorer.

Since your Riduurok.

Since he was allowed to take off his helmet and finally, you finally got to let your emotions run free.

To finally see his face and hold him close. To feel his lips and his warmth. 

The memory of your tears of unsung victory and joy still elevates his heartbeat.

Since you had made love and you laughed at his messed up curls in the morning after.

"Thanks for letting me in" you kissed his knuckles and he sighed contently.

"You did too" you furrowed your brows "I-"

"Literally" he winked, "oh? waiT YOU- EWW!!!" he was laughing hard as he dodged the pillow you threw at him.

"And to think! Your'e a responsible father!"

"Make a pervy joke again and I'll murder you" you grumbled. You kept laughing in each other's arms as he held you close

He still chuckles at the memory.

Now baby didn’t mind having a stable life with his buirs either.

You sighed in your sleep. The morning lights were seeping in through the slightly opened windows.

Sunbeams slowly making their ways into the room and enveloping your bodies. 

Your eyes crinkled in your sleep and you mumbled something and cuddling closer to him, if that were possible.

The kid will be up soon too and the thought alone makes him smile.

Yet another day with the two of you.

It was a free day for both of you and between your magnificent existence and snorting at Ad’ika running around,babbling and being the cutest menace. He knew he’d survive.

He looks down at you again and he's reminded of all the things that he loves about you. 

Now including how much you also love him. He could feel your heart beat,it is the best genre of music to him.

He felt the warmth again, not from the sunlight but from his infinite loop of affection for you.

“Ner Ali’it” he called you.

He'll bask in this for as long as you'd allow him and gladly, you promised to allow him forever.

He may be the best bounty hunter in the parsec but he never tried to be the best lover.

He simply couldn't!

For that title already had an owner,

You.

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

TAGS: @dindjarindiaries

@spacegayofficial

@lady-of-nightmares-and-heartache

@dindjarinsleftvambrace

@mitchi-c

@the-real-xhorse

@hdlynn

@deafmandalorian

@cheesecake-madness

@duchessnibenhu-ofpyromania

@oloreaa

:)

[supercorp-hosie]

Josie and Lizzie personality, dynamics and popularity in reality

I've kind of done this before, like in my thoughts for 315. Now, I've made some additions to them, so I think why not start a new post? There are some points that remained the same with my thoughts for 315 and I've integrated some points from my rating of the writing of Legacies characters too.

Starting from Alaric being an absent father since the twins were 11. Caroline wasn’t there either. What’s left for Lizzie? Josie.

Josie had to handle herself and Lizzie alone. Sure Alaric might not always be absent, but the intensity of Lizzie’s perspective begs to differ. Josie had to understand Bipolar at a very young age; be there when Lizzie had her outburst; constantly checks on Lizzie to take her meds; digest the emotion impacts after the outburst; understand how Lizzie functions when she was down. None of that are easy. No one asks about how Josie feels. How she pent out? What does she need? Josie might feel the need to be not needing things and always be good so that she can get the love and attention from Alaric (in s1, Josie felt the need to lose the game to get on Alaric good side). As results, she just started to suppress her voice and her needs, because Lizzie needed them the most. Over time or years of suppressing in front of her dearest family, she most likely felt unneeded by her parents, and forgettable to her parents (the girl so quiet that her parents forget about her, the girl that Penelope won’t fight for anymore). She needed to feel needed, so she just let Lizzie take all of her, from whom she felt needed the most. It started a vicious cycle for the twins, shaped their dynamics and how Josie is in present days. Unfortunately, her problems were never solved, they accumulated, leaving the good and dark side from Josie being so separated and unbalanced, as no one has helped her to sort them out. The inner turmoil is always there, leading to the extreme polarity of Josie’s good and bad side.When she’s doing bad, she would be especially aggressive than she needed to be because that’s an instinct to compensate the lack of action before. After long suppression, once being released, the instinct would be stronger than usual and more uncontrollable. Under the influence of dark magic, Dark Josie felt like another personality taking over the whole Josie and protect their interests that true Josie are neglecting. Kind of like dissociative identity disorder but not really it? Fear the dog that doesn't bark.

From Lizzie perspective, we can see how she perceived Josie when they were little. Like Lizzie being princess but Josie being her android, personal valet? It just showed that after what Josie had endured and done, Lizzie thought of herself being princess but didn’t think Josie as her equal? Like Josie was programmed to bow to Lizzie. That’s the twins dynamic showing, partly Josie's mistake, but Josie deserved more than that, even when she’s derogatory to herself, Lizzie should uphold that for her. What really warms me from the Android situation, is that from how Josie is the combination of two Androids, showing that Lizzie actually looked up to Josie. For Lizzie, Josie can really take care of her so well that Lizzie can count Josie as her personal valet. Derogatory, yes, but that place is also very important to prince and princess. Remember that Lizzie can’t cook but Josie is like expert in cooking or baking? The knowledge for Android part means that in Lizzie’s mind, Josie actually is like the person who knows everything. Usually that figure should be our parents, but for Lizzie, Josie knows the answer to all. The fact that the special sword was in Josie’s thigh the whole time, just show the trust that Lizzie had in Josie. The security of her needs that Lizzie got from Josie and the validation Josie got from Lizzie, it’s kind of how the codependency between them works. Lizzie voices, Josie listens; Lizzie wants, Josie gives.

About Lizzie mental illness, after my research, I think that Lizzie situation is more like borderline personality disorder rather than bipolar. Lizzie has this low self-esteem issue, she sees herself lowly sometimes. Evidently, she always thinks that she had to better herself more, even in 310 where she misjudged Finch, she forgot the fact that she had improved a lot along the seasons and just go straight to a retreat, because she thinks she’s still a very bad person. A second before she saw herself like holy almighty, the next second she saw herself so bad that she was like the person in season one (and even in season one she wasn’t that bad). However, we can also see Lizzie thinks very highly of herself sometimes, or uses a narcissistic attitude to cover up her insecurities regarding her self-image, they just doesn't match with people's view of it. The most alarming one must be the whole thing about her funeral. It's clear that she hasn’t had a stable self-image of herself, which is more of a personality disorder rather than Bipolar, a mood disorder. About Lizzie’s mood swings, they are too sudden, abrupt, it triggers by events and the outcome of the trigger is quite immediate. As for Bipolar, the mood swing is more of a consistent cycle, not abrupt. Yes, events might trigger something, but they take time to set in. Patients will be overly energetic during maniac while feeling overly fatigue during the depression state. They can’t actually control their mood, it’s a mood disorder.

Tbh, the twins really have their personality issues to deal with. I totally agree with other about them being each other's foil. Like Lizzie being the one in between, while Josie being the one in extreme. Turning out that under the mean girl cover, Lizzie has such big heart; while Josie being the model sister on the extremely good side, turning out that she can be extremely dark. For real, they had like six personalities as a whole. The polarity in Josie; the polarity of Lizzie's self-image; plus the twins themselves being the foil and mirage to each other. They both have serious mental problems, Lizzie's apparent, Josie's invisible.

How does these reflect on their relationship? People would choose to get along with someone like Josie, they benefit from her habit of caring, listening, giving, and she doesn’t seem to have serious problem. As for Lizzie, people mostly like to be heard and to not be covered by another voice, they would want enough reciprocation, a habit which Lizzie is not that familiar. Not to mention, having a mental condition being well-known is not the best trait for strangers to start a new friendship or relationship. Moreover, when people observe their dynamic, they jump to conclusion rather quickly, that Lizzie is always taking things from Josie; she doesn’t care for Josie, etc. It doesn’t help Lizzie much as Josie tends to hide under that too, as being quiet is kind of a routine for her. She wants the spotlight but habitual instincts make her tend to hide from the spotlight. Therefore, as for popularity,Josie is definitely at the top, adored dearly by her peers, thus won an election herself wasn’t even running; while Lizzie, you know. Between a dog that always barks and one that doesn't bark, which will you choose? (not derogatory) However, if someone attack Lizzie, Josie will still protect her, like she did tell Penelope to leave Lizzie alone.

To shed light on Josie’s jealousy, it rooted from the abandonment issues of the twins. It is a consequence of them being Alaric’s second choice and the absence of Caroline. For Lizzie, the issue remains with only Hope, Alaric’s betrayal for Hope in her fanfics; in 314, people prioritising Hope over her is very triggering; even in 316, the heavenly state she’s in because Ethan asked her out after the whole "Hope is perfect" speech, indicate that how she can’t believe someone would choose her over Hope. As she never thinks that she can hold a competition against Hope and win. Lizzie’s abandonment issue is minimal because of the presence of Josie, it provides the security in Lizzie’s life, as she is the first choice for Josie.

The abandonment issue is worse for Josie. Even if Josie is Lizzie blind spot, this part of Lizzie is not usually make known of. Josie would feel that she is second choice to everyone, including Lizzie. Like the personal valet that has no needs? Lizzie is just 11, but 11 is an important age in shaping people’s security in a relationship. Josie couldn’t have got much security from all her important relationship, hence the abandonment issues. She always feels helpless in them, afraid to voice her needs, desperately needed recognition from her parents which is probably very few. She needs control but she didn’t know the way to get it, so she got none. The insecurities heighten when it comes to her love life, making her easily provoked if she saw something she didn’t like. Results from the habitual quietness, her way of defending herself and gaining control is to lower her competition, like hurting the girl hitting on Landon, being hostile to Hope. She hated Penelope for abandoning her, she remained control mostly, when provoked, Josie’s abandonment issues and the insecurities in being the second choice were triggered so badly that she set her on fire. The time she did what she need to do, she overdid it, because her dark side needs to compensate what hadn't been done to protect oneself and tend to the needs – to balance out the imbalance. As she loses more control over the issue while desperately wants to suppress the need of control, the polarity in her keeps worsening and the dark side of her keeps surfacing.

This is why Josie is written to embrace and take care of herself, tend to her needs, like her never need to better herself. Lizzie is written to constantly better herself when she seems like a better person than Josie. Josie’s issues root from years of neglecting her needs, while Lizzie has years of habit of ignorance on how to care when she does care. Therefore, Josie taking care of herself = bettering herself, providing a balance in her so her mental can be stable even when provoke. If Lizzie cannot construct a good self-image, while getting positive feedback to reassure her self-image disparity, she can never overcome her personality disorder. Hence bettering herself to meet her own needs.

Their behaviours as presented are cultivated and shaped by each other under the unhealthy circumstances of their household. It is not logical to only accuse of one twin regarding their behaviours to each other without bringing the other twin and their parents into consideration.

@legacies-supremacy I still remember our twins dynamic discussion, I hope this bring my response as a whole. Btw, you kind of said that in 106, Josie tell Lizzie to go to their party without her several times and Lizzie waited for her? It's not true.

Regarding the whole situation, Josie spent all her time helping Lizzie get ready. When Lizzie is done, she said, "You’re not even dressed, I don’t want to be late on my own party." Josie said, "I’m done, I’ll catch up with you, okay?" Then Lizzie take off to the party and enter without Josie without question. After wearing the talisman, Penelope appeared. She expresses her desire to continue to make Lizzie uncomfortable or unhappy or angry. Josie wanted Penelope to ease up on Lizzie. Penelope said, "You have crawled so far down the codependence rabbit hole that you think taking care of yourself is selfish. Party starts in five. It’s a shame you spent all of that time helping Lizzie get ready." When Josie was dressed, she needed someone to help her braid, so for once she try something out of desire, she goes to Josette Laughlin. When Josette asked her whether Josie will be late to her own party, Josie said, "no one will notice". She expressed her thought that if Lizzie knew about her crush on Rafael too, the situation will look bad, so she kept silent.

During the party, Lizzie immediately enjoyed herself with MG. They had flirty moves with each other (i think). Once the soft music set in, she immediately changed partner. Penelope was the only one that notice Josie was no where to be seen (meanwhile Josie was getting buried alive). While Alaric encountered Hope to save Josie, Penelope is still the only one actively searching for Josie without request. After Hope met with MG and Penelope, the three of them started saving Josie together. Meanwhile Rafael told Lizzie the truth that he still hadn't moved on. Lizzie seemed like she was starting to melt down, and started asking for Josie. Hope, Penelope and MG saved Josie without Lizzie.

It is what it is, and I'm not blaming Lizzie. The whole getting buried alive thing just kind of enhanced Josie's feeling bad of getting what she desired. I kind of remember that she said that for once she listened to people urging her to pursue her desires and it ended up getting herself buried. Then Penelope like rewarded her with a kiss.

[dandeebakes]

I Read a Fic Today That Made Me Cry, not for the reason you might think.

Personal thoughts from a new fanfic writer. Read at your own risk. This is a mess.

These thoughts are deeply personal and I can’t believe I’m posting them publicly. It’s borderline unintelligible rambling nonsense. Honestly, I’m really just using tumblr as my personal diary, because I need to take these thoughts out of my head and put them somewhere else. But if they help someone else, than it was worth it to spit all this all out like crazy person.

I read a fic today that made me cry. Something most of us can relate to. We’ve all read those fics so moving and heart-string tuggy that we’ve spent countless minutes of our lives, huddled under a blanket at 2 am, wiping away the tears caused by our most beloved fic writers. It is all part of the fandom experience. It is all part of loving our favorite characters so much that we want to read all their hopes, dreams, desires, trauma, joys, sorrows (yadda yadda) played out in a million different scenarios. This time though that experience was much different. I wasn’t moved to tears because the fic was super angsty, but because it was so beautifully written that it made me feel small and inferior. 

See, I am new to creative writing. To be honest, I am new to writing in general. I also have a documented learning disability, ADHD and complex PTSD, which triggers a lot of judgment based anxiety. Because of this, I approach my writing with a great deal of self-doubt. When I was 12, I was told by a special Ed teacher that I should avoid expressing myself through writing. She said that because of my learning disability, it was always going to be a struggle for me to put words down on paper and have them make sense. It was written into my IEP that, whenever possible, my teachers had to allow me to give all my written assignments orally. I spent a good chunk of middle school missing recess so that I could present assignments to my teachers privately. As you might have guessed, this did not help me learn how to express myself in any meaningful way. It was nerve wracking and embarrassing. It made me terrified of public speaking and it made me even more terrified of sharing my dumb (my words) and uninspired thoughts with anyone. It also, rather obviously, didn't teach me a very important life skill—how to write effectively. Rather than take the time to work with me on my writing skills, the public school system (rated number 1 in my state at the time, btw) left me to flounder and taught me to hate myself. Because, the thing is… I’ve always wanted to write. I’ve always had thoughts and ideas swimming in my head that I was just aching to get out. But in the 6th grade I was told that I was not creative enough, and too confusing for anyone to ever care about what I had to say. No one was ever going to want to read a single word that came from my hand, because it was never going to sound nice, or make sense. At least, that’s what I heard. 

Anyway, here I am at 38, so inspired by my love for a fictional character that it makes me want to search my brain for that deeply repressed pocket of creativity. (I blame Ted Lasso [affectionately] entirely.) I find myself desperately wanting to engage and create. I yearn to bring life, love, and joy to these characters who have taken up residency in my brain. I have annoyed my friends and wife about this at length. Talking about wanting to create, but feeling too inferior to do so. Knowing I will never be able to do my favorite characters the justice they deserve. 

Still, after a great deal of encouragement from some of my closest and kindest friends, I have been putting words down on paper. It’s fun. I feel empowered. I feel like I’m finally doing something that I’ve wanted to do for so long. But…there are still so many important things I don’t feel: creative, witty, intelligent, good, worthy. With every single word I write, I think of the thousands of other words written by people so much more talented than me. People who can get inside the heads of my favorite characters to give them passion, and intrigue in a way that I’ll never be able to. People who write with beautiful, poetic language. People who can craft elegant metaphors that make you feel like you are right there with the characters.  People who can capture personality traits, and complicated emotions. People who can simply visualize a character's whole being and then make it shine on paper. People who can pull tiny pieces of characterization from canon and weave them into a fully fleshed character with wants, needs, baggage, trauma, backstories etc.  I want to write like this, but I can’t. Not yet anyhow…

Social comparison is a hell of a drug, y’all. And it’s been eating me alive. But I recognize it (thank you therapy). I spent the whole day today asking myself why on earth I even care? It’s fanfiction. I write it for my own enjoyment, and so that these beautiful goobers don’t overstay their welcome in my brain. I’m not being graded on it. Someone's livelihood is never going to depend on me getting the characterization of Trent Crimm (Independent) right. In the end, why can’t I allow myself to be inspired by the folks more talented than me, rather than discouraged by them. If there is anything I learned from not being “allowed” to write, it’s to fuck that whole idea entirely. Just fucking write, dude.  Will it be good? Who cares. Will it move someone to tears? Probably not. Will it be the most creative and awe inspiring story ever written? Nah. But, really, who? cares?

Anyway, here's a completely insane non sequitur…I watched the Netflix mini series Maid while working this week. After sobbing my eyes out, I came back to a quote Alex said right before she finally left for college. It struck a chord deep in the judgment filled anxiety zone of my brain. “It’s a lot easier to write the truth than it is to say it out loud. Nobody can take writing away from you. Nobody can tell you that you’re wrong, or your words are wrong. Because they’re not. You’re right, and your words are fucking right. Because they’re yours.”  So, after this little nonsensical ramble, I am going back to working on my three wips. Eventually,  I might put one up one AO3. Will the crippling fear of judgment and rejection eat me alive? Yes, it absolutely will. But it won't matter, because those words will always be mine and mine alone. If someone else finds enjoyment in them, great! If someone chooses to give me that sweet, SWEET validation, I’ll cherish it. I’ll wrap it up in a fragile piece of tissue paper and tuck it gently into the happiness cupboard of my brain forever. But at the end of the day, I write, and will continue to write, for me. The rest is barbecue sauce.

[ochabestgirl]

I have so many good ideas and prompts for fanfiction, and I HAVE tried my had at writing, but it never turns out how I’m wanting it to. I would love for an experienced fanfic writer who loves kachako, to maybe feel inspired to write a specific prompt that has been in my head for years.

So the story starts out with an established Katsuki and Ochako relationship.

Ochako hasn’t been feeling her best, with fatigue and weakness, wt loss, easily getting winded which has been putting a dent in her hero training. Ochako has never wanted to be a burden on anyone, so she keeps how she’s been feeling to herself, brushing off any concerns from her friends and teachers, saying she’s just been overworking herself as an excuse.

Things then take a turn for the worst when she passes out after giving blood at the yearly blood drive that pops up at UA every November. Nobody really thinks anything of it, since it is a normal reaction to donating blood. She wakes up in recovery girls office 4 hours later with a passed out Katsuki in the chair next to her bed. He wakes up and is worried but she eases his worries and sends him back to his dorm room after recovery girl comes in to check up on her. Once their alone, she informs her that after running a few tests on some of the blood she had donated, they discovered that her labs showed an increased in the number of leukocytes which point to one think, leukemia.

Recovery girl wants her to run more tests and have a bone marrow biopsy to confirm and come up with a treatment plan but Ochako is in denial. She can’t possibly accept the fact that all her hard work the last two years at UA could all be for nothing, so she goes harder than ever and does her best to hide it from everyone, including Katsuki.

After getting pared up with Kirishema for a class hero project, Ochako starts having worse symptoms, like bleeding gums and nose bleeds. Recovery girl says that this is a sign of worsening leukemia so she gives her an ultimatum, she either go’s to get her biopsy done or she was going to tell Her teachers, HIPAA be damned.

Reluctantly she agrees, but on the days following, Kirishema notices that she’s been slacking and feels frustrated to be the only one doing the work. On the day of her biopsy, she dips out of training early. Kirishema, having had enough, confronts her saying it wasn’t fair to him if she wasn’t going to take their assignment seriously. Ochako ends up having a compleat meltdown saying, “ you wanna know what’s not fair, I have cancer!” Kirishema in shock tries to respond but she cuts him off “ I’m going to my first bone biopsy today, that’s why I had to leave early, I’m going through this alone, but I’m sorry if all of this is an inconvenience to you!” Tears rolling down her face she turns on her heals and walks away, leaving Kirishema standing there speechless.

After a few moment he takes off to recovery girl desperately looking for answers, now extremely worried about his friend. He grills her for answers. Recovery girl, not able to give him much information, tells him what she can. That Ochako isn’t wanting to tell anyone or be compliant, and where her biopsy is taking place.

Ochako is on the table and they are about to start but before they even take out the needle a nurse walks in and whispers something to the dr. He nods his head and the nurse leaves. She doesn’t thank anything about it, until the door opens and Kirishema walks in. She is confused. “I couldn’t let you go through this alone.” He says shrugging his shoulders with a wary look on his face and tears in his eyes.

He sits by her side holding her hand and brushing his fingers through her hair as she gasps and cries in pain. Tears both running down their faces.

* I don’t have much in between this part and the next. Mostly just Katsuki  worrying to death, seeing the bruising on Ochako body and the amount of weight she has lost, not to mention her lethargic behavior, and Kirishema wanting to tell him what’s been going on but not being able to because it wasn’t his place. Ochako swearing him to secrecy, wanting to be the one to tell him but not feeling ready, so she keep putting it off.*

Kirishema has enough when Ochako passes out during breakfast, right in the middle of eating. Katsuki beside himself with anxiety and worry, urging her to take it easy. Ochako looks at Kirishema, noticing the terrified look on his face and excuses herself to go to her dorm room, but not without giving her boyfriend a calming kiss saying she was going to take a nap. Katsuki watch’s her disappear through the elevator doors, with a hopeless look on his face. Kirishema has made up his mind and sneaks off after breakfast to confront Ochako.

They end up getting into an argument and Kirishema says that she has to the end of the week to tell Katsuki or he was going to and storms out of her room, leaving Ochako sitting on her bed staring off into space completely spent with the day already.

Katsuki comes up after cleaning up the dining area to find Ochako passed out rather uncomfortable looking on her bed. He adjusts her to where her head is on her pillow and draws the covers up over her shoulders. She is shivering so he looks for another blanket in her dresser drawers only to find a large plastic bag full of an assortment of colorful pills. (Ochako put them in a plastic bag so she could hide them better.)

Completely shook, thinking that Ochako has a drug problem, he takes the pills and leaves, and in typical Katsuki fashion with no warning or tact, confronts Ochako in the common room after dinner in front of all his classmates. Completely consumed with worry, frustration, anger, concern and sadness, he doesn’t even think that he probably shouldn’t have approached it the way he did, but he was too desperate to care.

He throws the bag of pills out on the coffee table in front of Ochako. “Care to explain why I found a bag of pills in your dresser?” He asks with so much tension he is shaking a little bit. “I should have noticed sooner, it makes so much since now.” He says to no one in particular.

“Katsuki it’s not what you think, let me explain, I….”

“Don’t even fucking lie Ochako, you’ve been lying to me for weeks, I’m sick of it damnit!” He is shaking uncontrollably now. “I’m telling Aizawa, and we’re getting you into the first rehabilitation facility we can find that has an opening!” He’s so unhinged that he doesn’t even notice the stunned looks of concern on his classmates faces.

“Ochako, is it true?” Mina asked with both hands cradled to her chest. “ If it is, we all love you and want to help you.”

At this point Ochako is slumped over with her face in her hands, trying to make herself as small as possible.

She had been sitting between Deku and Iida, who are now rubbing her back with worried looks on their faces. “Ochako we will get you help, everything will be okay.” Deku says with tears in his eyes and voice thick with emotion.

Ochako springs off the couch so fast it startles everyone. She’s pacing around the room, and the color looks to be drained out of her face. She’s breathing heavy with tears in her eyes, borderline panic attack mode. Katsuki’s face softens and he approaches her, arms lifting like he was going to try to calm her down.

Kirishema then decides to speak up “ Chako, I think now is the right time to tell him.”

Katsukis head snaps up and his eye meet the ones of his best friend. “What the hell are you talking about, you knew what was going on this whole fucking time, and kept it from me?!”

“It wasn’t my place to say anything bro.” Kirishema responded with regret.

Small explosions leave katsukis palms as he leaps over the couch grabbing onto Kirishema’s shirt getting a few punches in before Deku and Sero pull them apart. Katsukis is still thrashing trying to get out of Dekus grip.

“I have leukemia!” Ochako screams loud enough for everyone in the building to hear. She then falls to the ground curling into herself sobbing.

Everyone and everything just stops and everyone freezes, Kirishema is laying on the floor rubbing his face while katsukis just stands there, with a blank look on his face directed at Ochako.

“Leuko-what now??” Kaminari asks from his place beside Kirishema.

“But that’s” Deku starts “ That’s cancer right?”

A strangled gasp is heard from Tsyu, who is trying not to cry.

“How can this be? Your so young, you have your whole life ahead of you.” Iida says like he hasn’t processed the information yet.

This comment causes katsuki to spring to life, “ w-why the fuck are you still here then, we need to get you to a hospital! Som-someone go get recovery girl! Why are you all looking at me like I’m crazy! She needs to go to a fucking hospital!” He’s not pausing for breath and in a half second, he is crouching down next to Ochako, ready to pick her up and bolt to the closets hospital himself. “ W-whatever, I’m going to get Aizawa myself!”

“You can’t!” Ochako desperately clings to katsukis arm, both trying to ground herself and to stop him from leaving. “You cant tell anyone! N-none of you all can tell anyone.” She looks like a cornered animal.

Katsuki looks at her like she has grown a second head. “what the hell are you talking about?! Do you even get how serious this is?! You could fucking die Ochako!” He’s panicking now “ That is not a risk I am willing to take!”

Anger boiling up inside her she yanks her hands away and stands up, causing katsuki to fall over.

“This isn’t your decision ‘Bakugou!’” She seethes. “I have worked so hard and I have come so far! I can’t give all that up! I won’t!” She is standing so still, fist clenched and shaking slightly.

“Chako, you have to-“ Kirishema is silenced by Ochakos loud “No!”

“I don’t Have to do anything! This is my decision!” Ochako starts backing away, eyes darting around the room, obviously looking for an escape. “It’s my decision…” she whispers once more before she bolts to the door leading to the outside, having jumped over the couch in the process. By the time anyone had realized what had happened, she had already disappeared through the doors vanishing into the night.

The class explodes into a frenzy.

“What is going on down here.” Came the calm voice of their teacher from the elevator doors.

“Mr Aizawa…” Kirishema takes it upon himself to explain everything that had happened, all the while katsuki curls more and more into himself. He is still on the floor, head between his legs and hands in his hair.

Deku is close by, trying to talk to him but it is lost on def ears, he can barely make out the panic in his voice.

Trying to get control over his breathing he starts in though is nose and out through his mouth. He is filled with so many emotions he doesn’t know which one to focus on. Angry tears well up in his eyes, threatening to spill over.

He is aware of Kirishema’s face replacing Deku’s, and the ringing in his ears has stopped enough to hear him say that Aizawa, Mina, and , Tsyu have went after her.

He doesn’t remember when or how he winds up on the couch, and he doesn’t even care. He feels hands push him down so he is laying down with his feet propped up, and a cold washcloth is placed on his head.

By the time he starts to breath normally, he’s not sure how much time has passed. When he opens his eyes, he sees that some people were still lingering. Kirishema was sitting in a chair next to him with his head in his hands. Deku, Iida, and Todoroki were hovering by the door, looking for any sign of their return. Sero and kaminari sat on the love seat across from katsuki with sad, forlorn expressions on their faces.

When he slowly sits up, Kirishema lifts his head. Looking him dead in the eyes, katsuki asked, “Did all of that really happened? Is this really happening?” Katsuki hates how his voice cracks.

“ I’m afraid so.” Kirishema says gaze lowering to the floor. “ listen man, I’m sorry I didn’t tell you. It wasn’t my place.”

“ I understand why you didn’t. It’s okay.” Kirishema looked like he wanted to say something to that but suddenly the door opened.

Katsuki shoots up from his seat on the couch and faces the door.

Tucked underneath Mr. Aizawa’s arm was a rather small looking Ochako. Face puffy from crying, and bags under her eyes from exhaustion, she looked like the walking dead. Beside her with her arm locked with hers was Mina, face also a little read and puffy, Tysu bringing in the rear holding Ochakos shoes, despair written all over her face.

Ochako refused to look at anyone, even the remaining members of the so called “Deku squad.”

Katsuki makes a move to meet them at the door but one look from Mina makes him stop in his tracks. She shakes her head and mouths ‘not now,’ so not knowing what else to do he just stands there and dumbly watches them make their way to the elevator.

Katsuki tries to sleep that night, but can’t, his mind too full with visions of Ochako dying. Giving up he goes to his desk and opens up his laptop. He spends the next 3 hours researching leukemia, the survival rate, symptoms, causes, treatments, reactions to the medication, by the time the third hours came to a close it’s 2 am and katsuki has had enough. Without second guessing himself, he makes his way out the door, down the hall to Ochakos room and knocks.

It takes a few minutes before the door opens revealing a wide awake but an extremely exhausting looking girl he calls his girlfriend.

Her face contorts in pain and her eyes well up with tears when she sees him. “I’m so sorry katsuki” she sobs.

Without saying anything katsuki grabs her face with both of his hands and kisses her with the power of every emotion he had felt and is still feeling. Pushing her back into her room, he kicks the door shut. She’s on him in seconds, tears still leaking from her eyes as he kisses them away.

“I love you. I love you so fucking much cheeks.” It’s comes out as a choked whisper, like a plea for her to live. He’s got a lump in his throat but he pushes it down. She doesn’t need him breaking down too.

Ochako steps back for only a second to remove her shirt, then she leaps and wraps her legs around katsukis waist, opening up a whole other can of worms.

Not having any control at this point, he pushes her against the door, devouring her mouth like it was his only lifeline. “ I love you too! So much, I’m so sorry.” He silences her words with a Searing kiss. He moves them over to the bed and gently places her down. then settles himself on top of her. “Are you okay? I’m not hurting you am I?” He’s so afraid now.

“You could never hurt me.” She says with such certainty.

That night they gave themselves to each other in every way they could think of.

Him needing to feel her, to know that she was still alive and whole in his arms.

Her needing to feel alive and needing reassurance that she wasn’t alone in this, needing to feel close to the one she loves.

*So that is all I have so far. I do have some thoughts about her treatment and how katsuki struggles with watching her suffer. I would like the story to include weather or not Ochako makes it. But I’ll leave that up to whoever wants to take this story on. Also feel free to write smut if you want. I’m just not good at that, so I didn’t include it.

Please let me know what you all think and if you can make this fic come to life.

Disclaimer: Art is not mine! I got it off of google search. All credit goes to the artists.

[vukovich]

I posted 848 times in 2021

193 posts created (23%)

655 posts reblogged (77%)

For every post I created, I reblogged 3.4 posts.

I added 393 tags in 2021

#drarry - 197 posts

#peculiar prompts - 40 posts

#drarrymicrofic - 32 posts

#drarry angst - 23 posts

#drarry fluff - 23 posts

#drarry smut - 22 posts

#tag game - 18 posts

#drarry crack - 14 posts

#hp fanfic - 13 posts

#draco malfoy - 11 posts

Longest Tag: 83 characters

#sometimes we forget about that whole au shit i made before i started writing drarry

My Top Posts in 2021

#5

Blunt-Forced Drama

It started innocently enough. In May, Potter invited their entire graduating class to a house-warming party at 12 Grimmauld.

Being the gracious guest he was, Draco arrived an hour late with a bottle of wine, two tins of pre-rolls, and a scented candle that claimed to be "woodsy".

Being the highly-distractible, schedule-free dynasty heir he also was, he arrived on a Tuesday evening. Four days after the party.

Potter shrugged and ushered him in, through the house to the patio. The chair cushions smelled like mildew, but neither of them cared. He lit the candle, then lit a joint off the candle by the time Draco realized they were alone, but that was alright. Preferable, even.

Potter was different away from people. Weirder. He was downright funny after half a bottle of wine, and peculiarly sober when he chased it with most of a joint.

"Did you ever wonder if matter stays still, and our consciousness just moves through it like fingers strumming a harp?"

"Stands to reason, Potty."

Draco, on the other hand, was borderline ridiculous, and moderately obsessed with implausible scenarios and how to handle them. When sober, he'd deny having a rampant anxiety disorder.

"What if my face just... fell right off. Right now. What would you do?"

"Suppose I'd pick it up," Potter said, taking a long swig from the bottle. "But I'd probably put it on my face, take a selfie, then wash it off and give it back to you."

Draco mumbled around the filter of a joint he had to look at with one eye to light. "Generous of you."

It became a regularity.

"Did I miss the party?" Draco would ask, libations raised in offering.

"I don't know. Did you?"

"I've never mourned the loss of a social function in my life, Potter."

The patio furniture paint started to flake off sometime in July, but that was alright. Potter left the candle out in the rain, and Draco made a note to himself to replace it with a candle that actually smelled like a thunderstorm.

"What if the stars all collapsed into black holes? Just... boom."

"Even the sun?"

"Well, except the sun."

"Probably wouldn't affect Earth for a few million years. But then you'd be named after nothing."

"True."

Harry extinguished a blunt on his tongue and rubbed the ash against the roof of his mouth.

"Universal ultimate goal..."

"Yeah?"

"...for everybody..."

"Mm hm."

"....is to become who you needed."

Draco's head lolled back over the chair, and he pretended to see the stars through the humid streetlight haze.

"Go on."

See the full post

171 notes • Posted 2021-08-25 13:41:53 GMT

#4

Freeze! ✧ ─=≡Σ((( つ•̀ω•́)つ You’re under arrest for being so lovely. Copy this message to 10 other blogs that you think are beautiful and deserve it. Keep the game going and make others feel beautiful!

I know you and @dewitty1 didn't send this for Peculiar Prompts, but hey, it's a wide brush. Random WC: 169

Stick ‘em Up!

Harry’s Polyjuice wavered, scarlet robes peeking through as he followed the hooded figure down the alley.

“Freeze!” His wand was steady, leveled at the man’s back as he turned. “You’re under arrest!”

“Is that so?” a familiar voice drawled. “And what would you be arresting me for?”

The man turned and dropped his hood. Harry gasped. Moonlight shone off platinum hair and cut shadows below high cheekbones. His eyes glittered silver and ethereal in the grimy alley.

“For…” Harry whispered. “For… being so lovely.”

“Oh, really?” Shiny black shoes glinted as he walked toward Harry, nonplussed by an Auror’s wand pointed at his chest. “I’d adore watching you try.”

Mercurial irises swirled in front of him. Harry’s mouth went dry.

There was something he was forgetting. Something important. Something Robards had said, and Ron had yelled.

The man’s thumb ran down the cleft above Harry’s upper lip, and he dropped his wand.

“Mm hm,” the man hummed smugly. “They sent a virgin to arrest a Veela. How terribly ambitious.”

196 notes • Posted 2021-05-26 20:51:45 GMT

#3

Hello lovely!

For the peculiar prompts, I would like to submit:

- sex in the Ford Anglia

- cursed sex toy 😳

I'll see your double-prompt and raise you a combo. Random WC: 213 Random WC: 286 Total WC: 499

Hotrod (NSFW)

“For fuck’s sake. At least wait till we get home.”

“No.”

Draco pulls a glittering glass buttplug out of the bag and holds it up to the light. Sunshine ricochets between streaks of shimmering gold and silver that twist up from the hooked base, through the narrow neck, and spiral in a double-helix into the bulbous head. Harry squints at it and decides it looks like a warped stained glass dong.

“We’ll be at the Burrow in ten minutes.”

Draco shrugs, unbuttons, unzips, and shoves his trousers to his knees in one fell swoop. He’s already hard, and Harry tightens his grip on the steeringwheel to keep his hands from wandering.

“You’re not seriously going to put that in now.” Harry swerves a bit to hit a pothole in the dirt road for emphasis.

“It might make your driving downright exciting.” Draco rolls onto one hip on the seat and reaches behind him with the plug and a whispered lubrication spell.

Grey eyes fix on Harry’s and he watches Draco’s pupils dilate, his lips part, and his breathing catch. He knows that look. That docile, vacant expression.

Harry licks his lips. “Good?”

Draco nods several times before whispering. “Yeah.”

Draco wraps slick fingers around his cock, and Harry tries to ignore how tight his jeans are getting.

“What does it do?”

Draco’s eyes drift shut as his fist moves over his cock. “Hm? Oh. Something about ‘making you scream’, but I don’t-”

A shrill emergency siren blares to life inside the car, and Harry slams on the brakes. A tan plume of dirt follows the skidding tires as he slaps his hands over his ears.

“WHAT THE FUCK IS THAT?!”

“WHAT?!”

“IS THAT COMING FROM YOUR ARSE?!”

“WHAT?!”

“TAKE IT OUT!” Harry mimics pulling the plug out, and Draco shakes his head, bewildered.

“For fuck’s sake.”

Harry unbuckles and reaches across Draco’s hip to roll his baffled arse over. His hand brushes Draco’s cock, and there’s a blip in the fucking klaxon. “No…”

Harry wraps his hand around Draco’s cock, and the siren dampens to a stifled whine. Still obnoxious as all hell. Draco pulls his fingers out of his ears, one of them gives a wet pop and leaves lube in an ear.

“Take that goddamn thing out.”

Draco reaches behind himself and winces. “It’s stuck.”

See the full post

201 notes • Posted 2021-05-27 13:56:23 GMT

#2

Ursa Major

Prompt: Adoption, from @drarrymicrofic 50 words ---

She’d made everyone else jumpers, but gave Draco a battered Malfoy ring. A tarnished, scratched silver M, with a cracked fire opal on one side, and missing stone like a gutted eye socket on the other.

It was fine. She’d never liked him, anyway.

“You’re reading it upside down, luv.”

281 notes • Posted 2021-05-01 02:37:10 GMT

#1

It'll Come Back

Draco's gaze flitted between the sign, "Janus Thickey Memory Ward, Persimmon Suite", and his nameless husband asleep on the small couch across the room. The man's robes were thrown over him in a makeshift red blanket, and his glasses straddled the armrest as if keeping watch on the ceiling.

Draco really ought to ask the man his name. It had been nearly a week. A week of being patiently taught how to operate a shower. How to hold his wand. How to lace the flies of his trousers. Relearning his own name, and listening to the man recite the members of Draco's family.

But the man had never introduced himself. And none of the nurses or healers had greeted the man with anything but "Oh! You're here?" To which the man always replied, "I'm his partner."

If he asked his own husband's name a week into recovery, the healers would assume he was forgetting things he'd relearned. They'd keep him in this shabby bed in this too-bright room for another week.

He sighed and watched his husband sleep. He had a good name, of that Draco was sure. He knew that the man's first name flowed, no hard consonants to stop it as it left his lips. He knew the man's first name started in the back of his open throat, like a moan. He knew the middle of the name pushed forward, round against his tongue like the ring on the man's finger. And he knew the man's name ended in lips pulled tight in a surrender or a smile.

The name didn't sit on the tip of his tongue, but rather filled his entire mouth, even if his mind couldn't quite tease it out.

His husband's last name was the opposite in every way. Draco knew that his last name was a weapon that they both used, but to different ends. He knew, instinctively, that he could spit that name from his lips, snap it off like an icicle, and stab the man with it. He knew that he'd done it often.

The name started on his lips, hard and tight, and his tongue flicked forward in the middle of the name, and the end of it rolled into the back of his mouth like cigar smoke.

The man yawned, rolled onto his back, threw his calves up onto one armrest and plucked his glasses from the other. He stretched, fingers laced behind his head and back arching in a shuddering display that made Draco wet his lips and gather the blanket over his lap.

"Did you sleep?" The man yawned again and sat up, tossing his robe over an armrest.

Draco wanted to address his husband by name, gave up, nodded, and settled for "Yeah. Some."

"Good." The man picked up a stack of papers from the floor next to the couch. "You get to go home today. The healers signed off on everything overnight."

"Oh," Draco said, watching the man resettle himself in the hard chair next to Draco's bed.

Home sounded lovely. A kitchen. Good, strong tea. A real bath. A bed big enough for the two of them. Weak knees. Sweat.

The man tapped his ring idly against the plastic arm of the chair, and Draco frowned and rubbed his own unadorned finger. They seemed the sort of couple to have put inscriptions on the inside of each other's wedding bands. Perhaps each other's initials, which would prove immensely helpful.

The man turned a page slowly and muttered, "This says we need to schedule a follow-up next week with-"

"Where's my ring?"

The page curled over itself as the man sat frozen. Green eyes rolled up to examine Draco over the rim of the man's glasses. Blinked once. Twice. And Draco gulped air and examined his hands in his lap.

"... with the memory loss team. Or sooner, if need be." He let out a long breath and leaned back in the chair, eyes scanning over seemingly endless paperwork. "I think we're good to leave, then."

Expectation fluttered nervous feathers inside Draco's chest. "Good," he managed to whisper.

Draco's lips curled in a quiet smile. Maybe he'd remember his husband's name in bed; shouted to the ceiling or muffled against the mattress. Maybe he'd whisper it in the dark in front of a roaring fireplace. Maybe he'd hum it in gratitude around a mouthful of toast and marmalade. Maybe he'd shout it from the front door in the morning with a wave and a kiss.

Draco slid to the side of the bed, and the man helped him to his feet. They let hands and arms linger on each other's waists.

Draco's thumb rubbed a soft circle on the man's lower back. "Do you have my wedding ring?"

"Uhm." There was a new glint in the corners of his eyes, and he avoided Draco's gaze. The man frowned and let his hand slip down Draco's hip, then fall to his own side. "I'm afraid you were never the marrying sort."

749 notes • Posted 2021-08-13 15:15:04 GMT

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