#I’ll probably give in and write some ficlets about this

[steddieas-shegoes]

I didn’t feel like this post was enough of the Steve and Chrissy friendship so please enjoy the prologue ficlet I just spit out faster than a person actually can (please excuse typos!!!)

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

“You ever think about leaving this place?”

“What, Hawkins?”

“Yeah.”

Steve and Chrissy were hiding under the bleachers, waiting for the school to clear out for the day. This was only their second time hanging out together, but Steve hadn’t had this much fun in years.

“I guess. It just doesn’t seem like it’ll happen for me.”

They were sitting across from each other, whispering in case there were any stragglers in the gym, Chrissy still in her cheerleader uniform from practice and Steve freshly showered from basketball practice.

Jason had left with his friends a while ago, so there probably wasn’t much of a reason to stay hidden, but neither of them wanted to deal with him if he came back.

“I have to get out.”

She said it so seriously, Steve wasn’t sure how to respond at first.

Luckily, she continued to explain before he had to.

“If I stay, my future is picked out for me. I’ll graduate, marry Jason, work as a secretary somewhere and have two or three kids that I don’t want. I won’t even get to go to college.”

“Do you want to?”

Chrissy blushed and looked down.

“I wanna be a vet. But my mom told me I can’t. Too much school and she thinks Jason will find someone else and then I’ll be alone.”

“You could find someone at school! That’s so stupid. Your mom sounds stupid.”

Chrissy gave him a small smile in agreement.

“She thinks it’s the life I want.”

“Well, let’s say you get out of here and become a vet. What else does your life look like?”

“Hm.” She tapped her fingers against her knee, then beamed at him. “I’d marry Eddie Munson and he’d bring me backstage on his tours.”

This made Steve pause.

“Eddie Munson? Why him?”

“He’s amazing. He’s cute, and nice, and different. He wants to leave here and be someone. He’s brave.”

Steve agreed. Of course, he didn’t know how to say so without giving away that he’d had a crush on Eddie for months. That was new for him; liking men, admitting that he liked men, knowing the man he liked was Eddie.

Chrissy was looking at him expectantly. He didn’t know what to say.

“What do you think about him?”

Something about the way she asked set alarm bells off in his head. Nobody knew about him liking guys the way he liked girls. It wasn’t exactly safe for others to know.

“I mean, he seems a little odd. But yeah, he seems nice.”

She squinted her eyes at him before looking away, her eyes finding a spot behind him to focus on as she spoke.

“You know I have a cousin, Brad, who has a partner a lot like Eddie. He’s not allowed at family stuff, but I write him letters sometimes and he sends some to me through a friend.”

“Oh.”

“So if you maybe thought Eddie was cute too…”

“What? What makes you think I think he’s cute?”

“Hey, calm down. I was just saying if you liked him, I’d be a safe person to tell, that’s all.”

Steve’s body relaxed. He didn’t have to know Chrissy that well to know she wouldn’t lie about that.

“I-”

“You also don’t have to tell me or anyone. It’s up to you.”

“I do think he’s cute. In an annoying way.”

There. That wasn’t so bad.

Chrissy was smiling at him, reaching a hand over to his knee to squeeze it.

“You should ask him out.”

“What.”

Okay, Chrissy was a smart girl. Surely, she understood why he couldn’t do that.

“Yeah! I bet he’d say yes. Who wouldn’t?”

“Any guy I ask out!”

“Not Eddie. I’m pretty sure he’s into both.”

“What makes you think that?”

“Just a hunch,” Chrissy shrugged.

“Do you have evidence for your hunch or are you just hoping I get punched in the face?”

Chrissy rolled her eyes at his dramatics. Maybe he was being dramatic, but not that dramatic.

“Not exactly. I’ve just seen him at a bar that’s known for being a safe place for people who may swing in different directions.”

“And what were you doing there?” He raised a brow in question.

“I was testing a hunch.”

“You and your hunches.”

“I was right about this one!”

“And what was that hunch?”

“That I liked girls.”

Steve didn’t know what to say. Chrissy Cunningham was like him?

“Oh. So you’re…”

“Yeah. That’s how I guessed you were. And how I’m guessing that Eddie is too.”

“Maybe. I think you’d have a better shot, though.”

Chrissy shrugged. “I think you should ask him out at graduation.”

“What? Step on stage to get my diploma and declare my love? That sounds like a move he would do, not me.”

“No. But after. Maybe invite him to the diner to celebrate.”

“What about you?”

“What about me? I’ve got Jason. Eddie’s gonna be out of this place as soon as he can. He shouldn’t have to wait on me.”

“You have just as much of a shot with him as I do.”

Chrissy thought for a moment before she gave him a soft smile.

“I think you two have a chance at something. Pinky promise me you’ll try?”

Steve held out his pinky and latched it with Chrissy’s.

He would try for her, but he wouldn’t let himself consider a future with Eddie.

[coloursflyaway]

Ok, so I’m a big fan of your dbda fics and I saw you were asking for prompts. I have 2, one of which is inspired by one of your reblogs.

1. Charles kisses Edwin at the worst possible time, maybe ending in them getting captured and Edwin giving him a lecture on “time and place”, Charles arguing with “you’re one to talk about time and place”, referring to the hell confession

2. Preferably very angsty, Charles wants to kiss Edwin to try and figure out if he feels the same way, and Edwin stops him, saying something along the lines of “if we did kiss and you didn’t feel the same way I don’t think I could bear it”

Obviously no pressure to write either of them, but I would love to see how you would develop these ideas more.

Hiii, thank you so much for these ♥♥♥

I'm keeping the second one for later, because I really like that, but here's a little ficlet for the first prompt!

It’s not like Charles plans it to go like this, is it?

In fact, he isn’t sure if he could plan it like this if he tried, he’s not sure if anyone could.

It’s just something that happens, because, to be honest, it was always bound to happen at some point, and it’s not Charles fault that Edwin, well. Stood there. Looking so pretty with his perfectly coiffed hair and his kind eyes and high cheekbones.

Not even the look of slight exasperation had detracted from how much of a vision he looked, maybe because Charles has gotten more than used to it in the thirty-odd years they have known each other.

(He knows exactly how many years it’s been, how many months and days too, could probably reconstruct it down to the hour, but that gets to be his little secret, only admired sometimes in dark nights and especially bright mornings, when Edwin is reading or doing research or concentrating on something else enough that the tip of his tongue peaks out between his plush, pink lips.)

And Charles didn’t decide to take a step towards him, just like he hadn’t decided to reach up and put one hand on Edwin’s cheek, feeling the sudden breath Edwin had taken.

Two decades ago, Charles had persuaded Edwin to try breathing again, at least occasionally, as a little luxury, a little treat, and it still makes him smile to see Edwin do it, made him smile in that moment, too, and maybe that had been a decision.

But leaning in and kissing Edwin, that hadn’t been a choice at all.

Just something he had to do in that moment, because there was a little smudge of chalk on the edge of Edwin’s jaw, because Edwin had looked at him and behind and around and between the exasperation, he had looked so fond.

And Charles had thought, he loves me, and then, I love him, too.

What other choice did he have than kiss that love onto Edwin’s lips?

Only that when he pulls back, a smile on his lips and, if possible, even more love in his heart, Edwin is looking him with wide eyes and his lips kissed pink, but not curved, not smiling.

“Charles”, he starts, and Charles isn’t certain he has heard this tone in his voice before; it makes him giddy to think that this is something brand new he gets to find out about his favourite person in the world. “What are you doing?”

“Sorry”, Charles starts out of habit, then stops himself, brow furrowing. “Actually, no, I’m not sorry at all. That was great and I’ll do it again. And again.”

He grins at Edwin, happiness bubbling in his chest until he feels like he’s bursting; a sound drips from Edwin’s lips, something in between a gasp and a whine.

“There’s a time and a place-”, he begins a speech Charles has heard before, and it’s so easy to interrupt him this time, because Charles usually doesn’t mind the scolding, but there’s more important things right now, like kissing Edwin again.

“You mean, like not in the middle of summoning a demon? Yeah, maybe. But I’m not sure if you really get to talk about times and places. At least it’s not on the stairway to Hell, is it?”

And Edwin’s eyes widen even more, if that is possible, and not that Charles doubted it before, but God, he really does love him.

Without thinking, he moves his thumb to wipe the chalk from Edwin’s skin, and Edwin sucks in a breath, then, with the quietest, most hopeful voice, asks, “You do mean it, don’t you? You’re sure? This isn’t just a-”

“Of course I mean it”, Charles cuts him off, before Edwin can say anything else, can think that Charles might not be serious about this for a moment longer. “Have never meant anything more than this.”

Another breath, one that Charles can almost feel against his skin, and Edwin nods.

“Maybe, then, after the demon, we could-”, he starts, but doesn’t get to finish this sentence either.

“Sod the demon”, Charles says, and means it.

This time, when he kisses Edwin, it’s a choice, and it’s the best one he’s ever made.

[returnsandreturns]

I just dontated to the PCRF! For a mattfoggy prompt, what about, in college, matt sitting in foggy's lap just becoming A Thing That Keeps Happening that started as a circumstantial thing but it just. never /stopped/ happening. And eventually they kiss about it.

matt being just an absolute goddamn mess has been my favorite thing to write lately so this was a lovely opportunity!! thank you <3

(also, if you donate any amount to the Palestine Children's Relief Fund or a similar organization of your choice, you can also get a guaranteed matt/foggy ficlet of an undetermined length. just send me an ask.)

“We cannot afford a cab,” Foggy says, leaning out of the questionable car belonging to Marci’s friend that is already full of more college students than should legally be in it, “and we are both drunk enough that there is a non zero chance that somebody is going to fall in front of a train. Just sit on my lap—you’re too pretty to wander around the streets alone.”

Matt sighs before climbing into the car, slumping down so he can settle awkwardly on Foggy’s lap, shutting the door behind him.

“This is undignified,” he says.

“Dignity’s overrated,” Foggy says, wrapping his arms around Matt’s waist loosely, making a soft noise when Matt shifts and they both clearly internally reckon with the fact that he’s making significant contact with part of Foggy that he actively tries not to think about. Because it’s weird to think about your friend’s dick—and maybe just as weird to have to think so much about how he shouldn’t be thinking of it.

The car is full of drunk babbling so neither of them has to say anything—which is probably for the best.

What’s there to say?

-

“Oh, shit,” Matt says, when he goes to sit next to Foggy on his bed but, in the midst of finals week delirium, ends up sitting directly on him. “Sorry.”

“It’s okay,” Foggy says, after letting out a shocked laugh, arms going around Matt’s waist to steady him and immediately reminding Matt of that feeling from a few months ago—sitting on Foggy’s lap, Foggy’s arms around him, Foggy’s—his thoughts are interrupted when Foggy says, a little high-pitched, “Are you gonna maybe move, buddy?”

“Oh god,” Matt says, again, despairingly, climbing off of him and considering hiding under the bed. “Sorry! I normally have a better read on where you are, I’m just. . .”

“In clinical need of a nap?” Foggy asks.

“So tired,” Matt agrees.

“I’ll point out,” Foggy says, “that we are currently in a bed—where most naps take place.”

“That’s true,” Matt says, smiling. “Statistically.”

“C’mon, we’ve earned it,” Foggy says, gently touching Matt to guide him so they can lie next to each other, on their sides, touching in so many different little places that Matt can’t focus at all—until Foggy asks, softly, “Is this okay?”

“Yeah,” Matt says, just as softly, smiling. “It’s good.”

If they wake up a little more tangled together and with Matt having a broadened awareness of what Foggy’s dick feels like when it’s pressed up against his ass, it’s fine. They were unconscious. It’s not like they wanted it.

—

Matt wants it.

Matt—Matt wants it.

Fuck.

—

After a series of lap related incidents, some unintentional, most incredibly contrived to the point where Matt almost gives up because Foggy has to actively be choosing not to say something, Foggy pulls Matt into his lap on his bed and gently grabs his hips.

“Do you have something you want to tell me, Matty?” he asks, voice a little lower than normal.

Matt’s eyes widen.

“Uhm,” he says.

“Use your words, please,” Foggy says.

“Okay, but what if I—I mean, instead, what if—fuck, Foggy,” Matt says, giving up on words and leaning down to kiss Foggy instead, soft at first then decidely not when Foggy hands move to squeeze his waist then down to his ass as they go from kissing to Matt dazedly thinking about everything else Foggy could do with his tongue as they frantically make out.

“Okay, the lap sitting,” Foggy says, when they break apart out of sheer need for oxygen. “Do you normally come onto people by literally throwing yourself at them?”

“Everything preceding the month of October was accidental,” Matt says, immediately.

“And what about the incidents following that?” Foggy asks, amused.

“. . .less accidental,” Matt admits.

“You just like being in my lap, buddy?” Foggy asks, stroking Matt’s hair.

Matt nods, a little too overwhelmed, but Foggy gets it immediately and takes Matt by the hips again to pull him slowly closer, making an encouraging noise when Matt shifts so his erection presses up against Foggy’s through too many layers of clothes. He rolls his hips. Foggy swears.

Matt’s fingers slide over the zipper on Foggy’s jeans and Foggy says, firmly, “Yes,” before Matt even has a chance to say please.

[jaynovz]

Expanded Info for Black Sails Kink Meme 2024

Hi there!

Since there has been a sufficient amount of interest for this idea, let me explain a little further how I think this will work and general guidelines–

I’m encouraging as informal and low stress/pressure of an atmosphere as possible here. Back in The Day when LiveJournal Kink Memes were common, it was very typical to see a prompt put up and filled within an hour. It doesn’t have to be polished, it doesn’t have to make logistical sense, it just has to fill the prompt as best as you can, sexily! It’s supposed to be fun. A bunch of fun, raunchy kink and smut to roll around in as a fandom. 🥳 🥳

So yeah, first thing to expect, it’s basically ALL PWP (porn without plot). Not to say that someone can’t write a full plot epic if they like, do whatever you like, but in my experience, a 4am fugue state smut fill written in a sweaty haze is kind of, the spirit of the thing. We’re creating ficlets, snapshots, tasty treats of smut with as little pressure to make it in any way polished as possible. Please think of this as, hmmm, a little fun writing exercise you do before you go back to your Big Serious Work, if that helps. We are letting loose, we are having fun, we are being deliciously, joyously, unrepentantly filthy with it! The tagline for the event is: “Get High, Jerk Off Three Times, and Write Me a Warmup :DD”

A prompt might say, for example– “MaxAnne, s2, would love to see the girls get slippery wet with some period sex, bonus if one or both eats the other out while she’s menstruating.” 

Pretty standard stuff, nothing that off the wall from my perspective, however, some folks might feel shy about asking for it for whatever reasons and so the anonymous format frees ppl up to ask for anything from: “Midshipman James McGraw getting caned in pre-canon by his superiors” to, idk, “full tentacle-y type oviposition porn where someone is being forced to come over and over again while being implanted with eggs by some giant plant beast on Skeleton Island (probably Silver).”

Literally ask for whatever smut you want~~ This is your chance, toss it into the pot! It will be tagged accordingly when posted if it’s filled, so live your truth, chase your bliss, know no shame, no one can see you~~

It is helpful when submitting a prompt to give details that are important to you, and the prompt filler will do their best with it. <3 So, I suggest giving a ship specification up front, maybe a vague timeline (season 1, season 2, etc), and then the kinks you want to see with a short description. Sort of like the MaxAnne period sex I gave an example of above.

Logistics and Structure of Submissions–

I have created a sideblog called @blacksailskmeme through which, once submissions are live (it will be open to accept prompts hopefully in March 2024), you may submit ANON ASK PROMPTS. I will publish them with a number and a link to the collection. If you like one of the prompts, simply post it through the collection with its corresponding number and then that AO3 link to your fill will be reblogged underneath the original ask prompt.

Simple as that! 

Follow the Event Blog, or the tag #2024BSKMemeFills in order to keep tabs on when prompts are filled. 

This makes it very easy for me and yall both, as there is no claiming process to trouble ourselves with. As many fills as are written are allowed for each prompt, simply write whatever speaks to you and I’ll be able to track the fills by the notifs on the collection. :DD

As of now, I’m planning to open prompts in March 2024 and keep the collection and blog running for prompts and fills both up through the end of Summer 2024. To respect the spirit of the event, all fills and prompts MUST be anonymous. Edit for clarification: The entire collection is marked Anonymous, which means any work submitted to it will be posted Anon. There is no option you need to worry about checking to guarantee this. I apologize for the initial confusing language, I have been learning as I go.

It still stands that if, after the event is closed, you want to then de-anon your work, that is your prerogative. However, it will mean you must remove the work from the collection, as the collection itself will forever and always remain anonymous.

Rules–

–This is an 18 plus event, please, as all of the content will be Explicit. 

–It is also a Black Sails Only Event, please no crossover prompts or fills. However, AU of all types are encouraged with our favorite pirates.

–All ships, all kinks, are welcome for submission, and the fill will then be tagged appropriately. If you have any questions on how to tag something, or just want another pair of eyes to confirm, you can always DM me <3

–Fills must be 500 words minimum of fic. There is no maximum and the fill is allowed to be WIP if you intend to write more chapters later. I would encourage that the content of the prompt be IN the first chapter at least before submission to the collection.

–We’re Gonna Be Nice and Civil!! No ship bashing, no kink shaming, we’re all mature adults here. If you don’t like something, then don’t fill it, don’t reblog it, don’t read it, pretend you do not see it. If you don’t like it, it’s not for you! 

If I haven’t covered everything here, or if you’re unsure about something, feel free to reach out to me either through the event blog or through @jaynovz <3 Also, if you’d like to help me out with the event, hit me up as well.

Thank you!

[cutiecorner]

Boats

Ficlet • Regressor! Bruce, caregiver! Alfred

@todayimfour said: "This is probably more of a doodle promt than writing but I feel like Bruce would have a blast with those lil bath toys that are the stacking boats"

In LOVE with this prompt!!! It can be a doodle AND a fic :3c enjoy!

“Bruce, poppet, don’t you think it’s time for a bath?”

Bruce stewed in his chair in front of the bat-computer. There was no doubt about it, he was kind of filthy. After a long mission in Gotham’s sewers to look for Killer Croc’s latest hide out, he went directly for the computer to catalog his findings. Not the best plan, but the one he decided to pursue in the moment. That moment was four hours ago, and he still hadn’t showered. Alfred had exhausted all of his avenues to get Bruce up and clean, but none had pulled him away from the computer. Except his last resort. Bruce was well aware that Alfred doesn’t call him pet names for just any reason. ‘Master Bruce’ was enough affection for the both of them, direct sweetness was a little much for daily happenings. Things had gotten particularly serious, Bruce thought, for Alfred to “poppet” him. He considered the possibility of going along with it, but he simply had too much work to do. He grunted to communicate as much. Alfred frowned, but was quickly hit with an idea. 

“Well, I suppose we’ll have to save my special surprise for another night then.”

Bruce was being baited, he could tell, but… a surprise was kind of like a mystery. Bruce loved mysteries. He just couldn’t resist. 

“... what kind of surprise?”

Alfred smiled, “I guess you’ll have to come with me to find out.”

Bruce let out a long sigh, hating to be pulled from his work, but he had to admit - he kind of wanted to get clean.  Not to mention, a pleasant surprise never hurt anyone. Once he was up from the chair, he pulled down his cowl to release his messy hair. Alfred reached for his hand, taking it to Bruce’s shock. This was serious business. 

Alfred led Bruce to the bathroom, and Bruce quickly took off his dirty suit to deposit in the laundry basket. He was starting to realize that he really did feel icky. Icky? He thought, surprised at his internal choice of words. Was he…

“I’ll start the water, dear, you go potty”

Bruce pouted. He did not go potty, he was far too big for potty. He ruminated on his big-ness as he did what Alfred told him anyway. After all, he would never outgrow taking orders from Alfred. Alfie knew everything.

“All done?” Alfred asked.

Bruce nodded in response, taking a seat in the bathtub. Alfred ran the showerhead over him to get the worst of the grime off, then started to fill the tub. Bruce always felt awkward waiting for the water to fill up, but was soon distracted by the bubbles forming. Alfie put some bubble bath in, it smelled nice too. He took a deep breath, taking in the lavender scent. He felt relaxed, fuzzy…

“I suppose it’s time for your surprise, hm?”

A bath surprise? Strange… Bruce wondered. What could be a surprise for the bath?

Before he could ponder, Bruce was presented with a pack of brightly colored boat toys.

“A bath toy? Don’t you think I’m a little old?” Bruce whined. 

“Oh, never.”

Alfred set a few of the boats in the now-full tub.

“Look, they can float, and you can fill them up with water, they even stack,” Alfred grinned.

Hrn, Bruce responded, not wanting to give in to a baby toy. He scrubbed at his hair as he tried to ignore the floaties… but they were so pretty. He bet they could go pretty fast if he pushed them. He thought about the splashy water and the ripples… No! He thought, Don’t get distracted. One of the boats floated over to him. He flicked it away. It did go pretty far! He found himself smiling. He grabbed another boat, skipping it across the water. Now he was laughing. Soon, he was playing. He filled the boats up with water till they sank, he raced them, he sorted them. 

“Alfie, look how many boats! They’re all stacked up and they still go!”

“Oh wow,” Alfred chuckled.

Bruce continued to play as Alfred finished washing him.

“Alright, pumpkin, you’re all done.”

“No!” Bruce cried, “my boats…”

Alfred smiled.

“I promise you can play with your boats tomorrow, love.”

“You promise?”

“I swear,” Alfred smiled. 

[mamashenanigans]

Hiya! Could you write a fluff piece of Yoichi and AFO (if AFO wasn’t a deranged psychopath) getting up to some twin shenanigans. I leave it up to you what shenanigans they partake in. Thank you!!!!!

Hey Anon!

I’ve felt bad that I haven’t answered you yet! I’m working on finishing the AFO & Yoichi fic that I’ve posted snippets of before I give you a nice little ficlet.

HOWEVER

I thought I’d share some headcanons for this little AU you’ve introduced! I hope you like them! You are more than welcome to Ask again if you have any further ideas or thoughts on it!

(Whoops. I wrote the wrong name for AFO at first. Now it's edited)

+The Twin-Twin Transfusion Syndrome(the term for what happened with AFO absorbing more nutrients than Yoichi and which also means they are identical) never happened. They are born LOOKING identical and a mix between canon AFO and Yoichi. Height probably in-between the two and maybe hair only coming down to their lower ears? AFO still has his red eyes and Yoichi has his green representing the dichotomy of their power.

+AFO named himself Daiki and also named Yoichi just like in canon. Daiki can mean “big” so I thought it would be a great name for AFO to pick out since he still sees himself as the “Big Brother” of the two of them.

+They were still whisked away by water and ended up on a shore, but were found by meta sympathizers that took them to an orphanage that protects meta children. They never had to grow up on the street, but they also developed an interdependent relationship. They grew up in the orphanage until coming of age. I think some twin shenanigans would happen when living in the orphanage. Maybe the orphanage also sent them to school?

+If sent to school as teenagers maybe, just maybe, they encounter Kudo and Bruce?

+This is a headcanon in the fic I’ll be posting: Their Quirks work together. Daiki(AFO) is able to take Quirks with his right hand and Yoichi can give Quirks with his left. They are able to transfer Quirks between each other by holding hands and combining the holes(Yoichi’s right hand; Daiki(AFO)’s left hand) in their palms.

+Their personalities are still relatively similar to their canon counterparts, but dampened(mostly AFO) by not having to grow up on the streets and never finding the comic books as morally ignorant children. Maybe they found the comics later and still enjoy them together, but Daiki(AFO) never became the monster he is in canon.

+Yoichi is the submissive twin. Daiki controls the majority of what they do. But, in actuality, (just like canon) it’s Daiki that needs Yoichi more than Yoichi needs Daiki. He’s actually really weird about any sort of separation between them. He’s obsessed with them being “two bodies, two minds, one soul” ala ‘Dead Ringers’. This dude is creepy, but Yoichi has nothing to go off of.

That’s what I have right now. I probably have more if people ASK. I’ll get to the ficlet when I can. Thank you SO much anon for a great headcanon work!

[bookshelf-dust]

🪩 Ok, I desperately need a Billy letter. Maybe it’s like a love confession and he has to write it down because every time he’s tried to say it, he can’t get it out ‘cause he’s still in the mindset of emotions being bad/“girly.” Maybe you could turn this into a ficlet (I forget what the emoji is) and maybe after you read it, you tell him you love him too and he gets so excited/relieved and he’s like “I fuckin’ love you so much.”😁😁

That was longer than I thought it’d be.

slumber party shenanigans

billy hargrove x gn!reader

a/n: sweetheart!! my love!! my dearest!! this is so sweet. and it’s totally okay that it ended up being a little longer. i tried to capture him the best i could in this way. i really hope you’re happy with it <333

————

🪩 you want me to paint your nails?— i’ll write you a mock love letter from the character of your choice. just give me a little something for them to write to you about! this one will be very new for me to try and i won’t make them terribly long, but i hope they might turn out sweet.

🖋️ want another blanket?—i will write you a little ficlet (under 1000 words) for the character of your choice. i would appreciate if you’d specify whether you want comfort/fluff/angst/whatever and i will try and come up with something for you!

Last night, he said fuck it. He was overwhelmed with everything he was feeling. Everything he was feeling for you. Everything he feels for you.

He’d been afraid he wouldn’t remember all of this come morning, or whenever else he attempted to tell you. So he rummaged around in his bag for paper, because he swore he fucking had some, and he stole a pen from Max.

Billy settled on the floor, back resting against the foot of his bed, and got to writing.

He kept having to take breaks though, or blink really hard, or shake his head. Sometimes squeeze his nails against his palm. Anything to stop that voice in his head.

You’re a pussy, feeling like this over some chick. She’s just going to break your heart. She doesn’t care about you. Even if she does, you don’t deserve her. You’re a piece of shit.

Enough, he’d tell himself, and he’d keep going.

The next morning, Billy gives you the letter he’s written in the car.

“Read this. Don’t look at me, or I’ll probably fucking throw up. Actually, you stay here. I’ll wait outside.”

Billy pushes his door open, and paces around within a few feet of the Camaro, waiting for you to read what he’s written for you. It feels like he’s laid out on a table, like you’re looking at his guts.

He hates this. He fucking hates it.

You unfold the notebook paper Billy’s given you, eyes dancing around the page. You love his handwriting. It’s one of your favorite things about him. He writes small, all of his letters in lowercase. Except when he writes his name, where in that case he capitalizes as he should, but the B and the H are always oversized and signature-esque. He does the same when writes your name.

You decide to hurry up and read the damn thing. He’s already nervous enough.

Y/n

i’ve been trying to say this for weeks. fucking weeks. but every time i try, it’s like he’s watching me. and i can’t. but this doesn’t have shit to do with him. it has to do with you and me.

i’m in love with you. i love you. there. damn.

you’re the best thing that’s every happened to me, and i know it’s cheesy, but i don’t give a shit. because i know i’m an asshole. but somehow you’ve found a way to help me be less of one, and you care about me. you look at me like i’m fucking magical or something.

you’re so sweet to Max, and you help her with stuff i don’t really understand. you help me work out things i don’t understand. you’re such a smartass. and you’re so gorgeous. there’s so much more, but i’m drawing a blank because of course i am. i’ll tell you later.

i love you. i love you, Y/n.

Billy

You take a deep breath and fold the paper back up, before getting out of the car. Billy things something’s wrong.

You round the side of the Camaro and walk straight up to him. You throw your arms over his shoulders and pull him into a hug. Billy relaxes in your hold almost immediately, body molding against yours.

You pull back enough to take his face in your hands. His cheeks are warm and red.

“Billy. I love you too.”

He presses his forehead against yours, a breath of a laugh leaving him.

“Don’t fuck with me.” He squeezes your side.

“I’m not fucking with you.”

Billy abruptly lets you go. He shakes his head like he doesn’t believe this.

“Are you sure? You’re being dead-fucking-serious with me right now?”

You nod. “I’m positive. I’m being dead-fucking-serious with you right now.”

Billy moves closer to you again, and he leans in, pressing a kiss to your lips. He tastes like cigarettes and fruity gum. You try to pull away for breath, but he doesn’t let you. He kisses you once, twice more.

The smile on his face is one of the ones you only ever get to see. It’s bright and happy and beautiful. “I fuckin’ love you so much,” Billy tells you.

He falters, though, immediately after that. “Wait, you’re not mad, are you? That I had to write it down first?”

You don’t break eye contact with him. “No! Of course not Billy. I just want you to be comfortable.” You smile at him and kiss the tip of his nose. He wrinkles it at you and tries to push away.

You slip your hands into his hair. “I love you, Billy.”

He’s smiling again. “I love you more.”

[fleurywiththesave]

↻ for the Cup wish baby ficlet 🥹

↻FLIP FLOP: send me a scene from one of my fics and I’ll describe or write it from another character’s POV! (link to the original)

“There is a baby in the Stanley Cup."

Leon has a split second of clarity that his life is now going to be divided into Before and After this phone call. It takes him a minute to process that enough to be able to speak.

"I'll be there in twenty minutes," he finally says, and hangs up so he can order a car. It’s not rush hour yet, so the wait time isn’t bad, but it’s still long enough for him to start pacing in front of the hotel.

A baby.

He’s going to be a dad.

Holy shit, he’s going to be a dad.

Not just him. He and Matthew are going to be dads. Together. They have a baby. Together.

Thank god he’s not driving, he’d probably end up in the water. Instead he gets to sit in the back seat of the Lyft, no doubt with a completely dazed expression on his face, and try to imagine what the baby is going to look like. Curly hair, for sure – every time Leon’s imagined their children, they always have curly hair. But whose eyes? Whose nose?

At least he feels fairly confident about this kid’s eventual hockey ability. They’ll have to get some of those little socks with the knitted skate blades. Taryn will probably know where to find them.

Matthew texts that Leon should come straight to his room. A few of his teammates are asleep in the living room, but they don’t stir when Leon slips past. He fully intends to walk in the room completely calm and pulled-together, a plan that flies out the window the second he opens the door and sees the baby.

Their baby. In the Stanley Cup.

“What is it?” he asks.

Matthew hands him the certificate. “A girl,” he says. The blank line to fill in her name seems enormous. How the hell do you name someone you weren’t prepared to meet?

“A girl,” Leon repeats. His arms are aching to hold her, but she looks so peaceful, asleep in her bizarre little crib. Maybe they can get a replica to keep in her room. "You didn't wake her up yet?"

"I didn't think I should do it without you. Even if, you know."

Um. No, Leon does not know. Know what?

"Even if what?" he asks.

"You know. Even if you don't, like, want to do this." Matthew sounds more nervous than Leon has heard him in a very long time. Actually, he sounds just as nervous as he did the night he told Leon that he loved him, that he couldn’t keep doing what they were doing if it didn’t mean anything. The night that Leon first got to tell Matthew that he loved him back. "I don't remember wishing, but I guess I did, but that doesn't mean you need to be responsible for anything. I can figure it out. My mom will help, probably. And my dad. Or Bobby, he'll know what to do."

"Wait, did you—did you think I was going to be upset?” Leon asks. Matthew starts twisting his hands together and Leon almost reaches out to grab them, try to soothe him. He never likes seeing Matthew like this, but it feels about ten times worse at this particular moment.

"We haven't really talked about kids," Matthew explains, "and I didn't want to call you like this, after...after. I wanted to give you your space like we agreed."

Oh my god. How can one man be so smart and so dumb at the same time? Leon’s heart feels like it might burst with fondness.

“Matthew, you idiot,” he says, walking over so he can grab Matthew’s face and kiss him. Matthew looks a little bewildered when he pulls away.

“Um.”

"What's the first thing they teach about wishbabies?" Leon asks him, and Matthew flushes a bit when he answers.

"That...that both parents have to want it.”

“You might not remember wishing, but I do.” He remembers it vividly, because he’d resisted most of the alcohol that Davo and Nuge tried to pour down this throat, so he’d only had a couple beers when he wandered out onto the balcony to stare at the sky morosely and think about how many things he wanted to be different about that moment – and how many things he wanted in the future.

"Obviously I was upset after the game, but I realized that I wasn't just upset because we lost,” he tries to explain. “I was sad that it felt like I couldn't really share it with you, and I wanted to. I wanted to watch you lift the cup, and celebrate with you, and tell you how proud I am of you." God, he'd been so proud. Is so proud. Maybe more proud than he's ever been of anyone, including himself. "So that got me thinking about all the other things I want us to share, and, well. You know the rest. Apparently we're in sync even when we're not talking."

Matthew is staring at him, but he doesn’t look nervous anymore. He looks kind of awed.

"So you're not mad?"

“Are you mad?” Leon asks, and he won’t pretend it’s not a relief when Matthew immediately says, “"No. No, I—it's amazing." Leon can’t resist kissing him again.

"Yeah, it is. Can we wake her up now?"

Matthew picks the baby up and hands her to Leon. Her weight settles in his arms perfectly, like they were designed to hold her. He can already feel the tears forming but he fights them back. Not yet.

"Hey, kiddo. I’m your papa.” Matthew leans into him and strokes the baby’s cheek, and Leon wishes he could preserve this moment in amber for the rest of eternity. Just the three of them. A Before within the Before and After.

“What should we name her?” Matthew asks.

“My grandmother’s name was Adelaide,” Leon offers.

"Adelaide," he repeats. "Addie."

"Adelaide Draisaitl-Tkachuk." God, he likes the sound of that. All their friends are going to argue about whether they should call her Drai or Chucky.

"Oh my god, she never had a chance," Matthew says. "She's going to change her last name to Smith as soon as she's old enough."

"Nah.” He turns to hand her to Matthew and the tears aren’t waiting any longer. "She'll learn to love it."

"Hi, Addie," Matthew says. "Welcome to the world."

Noises are starting to drift up from downstairs. Matthew’s teammates are waking up. The day is about to begin. Leon steals one more kiss.

“Love you.”

“Love you too,” Matthew says. “Uh, we should probably call our parents before I have to leave.”

“Not it.”

“Not—oh fuck you!”

[evancordelia]

YOU THERE 🫵 RED DEAD FAN, YOU. GIVE ME WRITING REQUESTS PLEASE.

I’ve been in writer’s block for FAR TOO LONG and I’m SICK OF IT… but I can’t figure out what to write for the life of me. What I DO know is that I wanna write some Red Dead Redemption (and Revolver) stuff. SOMEONE GIVE ME REQUESTS, THATS ALL IM ASKING.

I’ll be doing oneshot fics, ficlets, headcanons, all of that. I’ll be doing character x character and also character x reader. If you want a post just about a single character, it’ll probably be a headcanons post. Please specify what kind of relationship you’re looking for!!! (Romantic, platonic, etc)

NO NSFW. IF SOMETHING ABOUT YOUR REQUEST MAKES ME UNCOMFORTABLE, I WILL NOT BE DOING THAT PART OF YOUR REQUEST. Please remember that I am a MINOR. Don’t ask me to write about Arthur Morgan’s boobs please ::(

I JUS

I WANNA WRITE MAN

HELP ME OUT HERE

MY INBOX IS OPEN

GO

FOR MY SAKE

[thewatercolours]

Priorities (King's Quest Ficlet, 1 of 2)

Muriel,

Just disregard the order form I’ve tucked this into. I don’t actually need any toe salve. It’s just it’s hard to say who might be watching. I can’t write straight to my guards at the castle, and since you and Chester get the most mail of anyone in Daventry (except the Merchant, I guess,) I thought this note could slip by more discreetly. Please pass this on to Royal Guard Number One and ask him to have a look at it when he’s alone. Thanks so much. Hoping it’s not too many months till I see you and all the people in town again.

--KG

Number One,

I have to keep this short. I reached Arkney just before the new moon. The word in town is that Acorn and Whisper were in the group that arrived in a prison wagon two weeks before (or at least, it’s my best guess it was them, just from the descriptions.) The last anyone saw of them, they were being brought to the local castle on orders from Count Carolus, just like you guessed. We tried scoping out the castle from the outside, and Amaya even managed to sneak a peak inside the inner courtyard and got a pretty good guess about the layout of the place. But no sign of our friends, or whether they’ve been moved somewhere else. Amaya tried the “visiting nobility” scheme you suggested three days ago. They wouldn’t see her. Our timing turned out to be terrible. Lady Carolus was having a baby that day. So we’re taking another shot, and this time it’ll be me, since they’ve already seen Amaya. I’m trying the peasant thing. It’s easier to disguise myself dressing down than up. I’ve spent the last couple of days making inquiries about work around Arkney, just to make it seem believable. Tomorrow I’ll knock at the Count’s back door and see if there’s a position available. Here’s hoping. I better finish this up, but first: the tavernkeeper says servants and guards at Castle Carolus are not usually allowed outside the precinct without special permission . It’s like its own little world. So I might be hard to get a hold of, if they actually hire me. It would probably be better if you wait for me to make contact first, but if you absolutely have to, send it care of Bagley at the Lily and Throne tavern, and sign it “Mary Lou.”  I’ve told Bagley that my long lost love’s name was Mary Lou, and the search proved hopeless. He seems like enough of a romantic that he’d find some way to get it to me. Do everything you can to disguise that it’s from Daventry. And like I say, don’t reach out first if you can help it, even if it takes months. Whisper and Acorn deserve the best chance we can give them. 

Crossing my fingers,

“Grimm”

PS - I have complete faith in your ability to take care of the kingdom while I’m gone, this time and every time. Don’t beat yourself up.

PPS - Don’t write unless you have to, but if you have to, you might as well put a packet of salt and pepper in with the envelope. They’ve never heard of seasoning here.

(Part 2 here)

[kinnbig]

75 standing on your tippy toes, frustrated you can't reach your lover's lips

with Ken and Pol? Sorry, the thought of this made me giggle. :')

and only if you want to of course! <3

fjckdkajfjsj omg I can’t lie, this one took some wrangling - but it was so much fun, thank you!

“Maybe if you weren’t so freakishly tall,” Ken laughs, as Pol manages to hit his head for what might be the fifth time on the archway into the little alcove they’re all huddled in, “then this shit wouldn’t keep happening to you.”

Pol smiles good-naturedly and takes a sip of his beer. “I’m not that tall.”

“No, he’s right,” Arm says, “you are a bit freakishly tall.”

It seems to offend Pol more, coming from Arm.

“Maybe you guys are just freakishly short!”

Ken snorts. “What, all of us?”

“Yeah!” Pol says defiantly—and then, gesturing with his bottle between Arm, Big, and Ken—“well, some of you. Who’s actually the shortest?”

Ken says, “We’re all about the same height,” at the same time as both Arm and Big say,

“Ken.”

Ken glares. “Fuck you guys.”

“You’re not that short, though,” Arm says. “You’re probably the same height as Pol’s ex was. Pol had to bend right down to kiss him, or he had to stand on his tip-toes.”

Pol laughs. “Oh yeah! I’d forgotten - was he really only Ken’s height? I remember him as taller.”

“Oi,” Ken grumbles, “I’m not that short. I wouldn’t have to stand on my tip-toes to kiss Pol!”

Big huffs a laugh. “I bet you would.”

“Fuck off, no I wouldn’t.”

Arm grins, leaning forward in his chair. “Well, there’s only one way to find out.”

Ken downs the rest of his beer in one and stands up jerkily.

“Fine,” he says, sauntering up to Pol with as much cockiness as he can muster, “I’ll prove it.”

Pol grins. “Come on then.” He tilts his face, offering Ken his cheek.

“I’m not kissing your cheek,” Ken snipes. “I’m not a fucking prude.”

He looks up at Pol.

Pol looks down at him.

Ken tries to lean in.

“Fuck,” he mumbles, “why are you so tall?”

He surges up, shifting his weight onto the balls of his feet and trying (and failing) to reach Pol’s grinning mouth.

“Hey,” Big interjects, “you’re definitely on your tip-toes right now.”

“I’m not!” Ken insists, even though he is.

Pol laughs. “Aw,” he says, giving Ken’s head a brief, patronising pat. Ken lunges at him and he darts back, giggling.

Ken flips him off. “I’d still win in a fight.”

“Sure, nong. If you say so.”

send me a kiss prompt number and a pairing and I’ll write a tiny ficlet! 💕

more kiss prompt ficlets

[steddieas-shegoes]

just saw your reminder deadline for asks post and i had to put something in! first off i looooove what you’ve been doing with these requests and just with the writing in general

and i would like to humbly request should-you-see-fit, your take on a eddie recovery//eddie chronic pain or other lasting symptoms. i adore everything you do when steve is the one hurting and so i’m wondering what that would look like flipped?

Since this request came in, I have written one where they both have chronic pain and help each other through a bad day, so I did take some inspiration from that for this. So many people comment on the chronic pain ficlets/drabbles saying that it makes them feel so understood and it makes me feel so warm and happy to know that it gives you warm and happy feelings. This was a nice break from the first chapter of demon Steve, so thank you for sending this one in! - Mickala ❤

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

Eddie wanted to call Argyle, get the strongest strain of weed he had, and get so high he didn’t even feel human.

The pain he woke up with was almost as bad as when he first woke up in the hospital a few months prior, his bones aching and every breath sending sharp, piercing pains through his entire body.

He was used to dull aches when it rained, or being in a lot of pain when he stood up for too long or walked too far, but waking up like this was new.

Even worse, Steve wasn’t home.

He was already at work, a shift he picked up for Robin because her parents had insisted that she come with them to visit her aunt in Chicago.

Eddie could call him, but then he’d just feel bad about not being here to help.

He sucked it up long enough to call Wayne, who was at work, but no longer needed to be thanks to the government trying to keep them quiet with a large chunk of money.

As he waited for the secretary to get Wayne on the phone, he tried to take deep breaths like the physical therapist showed him. It didn’t work, but he was trying.

“Ed? You alright?” Wayne’s voice held so much concern, and Eddie was in so much pain, he started to tear up.

“It hurts,” he sobbed.

“You need me to call an ambulance, son?”

“No. Just hurts.”

He could hear Wayne say something to someone else, probably the secretary, then his voice was loud and clear in the phone.

“I’m on my way home. You call Steve yet?”

“No, he’s gotta work.”

“You know he’d wanna know anyway.”

“I know,” Eddie sighed. “I just don’t want him to worry.”

“He’ll be mad if ya don’t.”

“I know,” Eddie groaned. “I’ll call.”

“Smart. I’ll be home in 20.”

Eddie listened to the dial tone for a moment before hanging up.

He focused on the poster on the wall in front of him, said every color out loud as a distraction from the pain. He couldn’t call Steve if he was still ready to cry, he’d hear it in his voice and immediately try to come home even though he couldn’t just close the store.

Wayne was right though.

He picked the phone back up off the hook and dialed the number to Family Video.

It only rang twice before Steve’s voice answered.

“Thanks for calling Family Video. I’m currently watching Back to The Future. What do you wanna watch?”

“Back to The Future again? C’mon Stevie. You’re in a store full of movies,” Eddie said, somewhat breathlessly as he tried to breathe and talk through the sudden pulsing pain in his side.

“Eds? What’s wrong?”

“Just woke up in a lot of pain,” he said through gritted teeth.

“I can be home in 10 minutes, baby.”

“No, Stevie, it’s okay,” Eddie started to say, but Steve had already hung up.

“Fuck!” He yelled.

It felt good to do it, not just because of the situation, but because he needed a better outlet for the pain right now.

He closed his eyes and waited.

Steve was home faster than 10 minutes, which he would probably be upset about if Steve didn’t already look like he was panicking.

“Are you bleeding anywhere? Have you called 911? Did you take anything?” Steve’s hands were hovering over him in the bed, his eyes glistening with unshed tears as he looked at Eddie’s curled up body.

“No, no, and no. I don’t need a hospital, just pain meds and maybe a bath.”

“But the pain is so bad you’ve been crying. That’s not normal!” Steve finally rested a hand on Eddie’s arm.

“Sweetheart, you’ve seen these scars. You know what the physical therapist said about pain. This is normal. It’s just the first time it’s been this bad,” he tried to calm Steve down, but couldn’t quite level his voice out to be convincing.

Just as Steve was starting on his next round of questions, the front door opened and Wayne called out that he stopped for some extra strength Tylenol.

Wayne came into the room and held the bag out towards Steve.

“I’ll go get a glass of water so you can take ‘em.”

Steve started opening the bottle and took out two pills, glanced at Eddie, then shook out a third.

“Gonna go start a bath, okay? Yell if you need me,” Steve said as he handed him the pills and kissed his forehead.

Eddie nodded.

Wayne brought him water, helped him sit up more so it was easier to take the pills and start working on getting up to go to the bathroom.

He didn’t like Wayne seeing him in pain, but he couldn’t help but let out a small whimper as he got shifted around.

“Alright, let’s get you to the bath.”

Wayne helped him walk, slowly, with a lot of pauses to gather himself and remember to breathe in and out.

Steve was waiting in the bathroom, ready to help him get undressed and slip into the hot bath filled with peppermint and eucalyptus oil.

Eddie tried to smile, give some comfort to the two people who were somehow more stressed about his pain than he was. He knew it probably wasn’t enough to soothe their worry, but Wayne at least gave him a small pat on the back and a smile as he left the room.

Steve wordlessly stripped his shirt and pants off, took his time and made sure to pause when Eddie gasped from moving too quickly.

He helped Eddie into the tub, slowly lowering him down until he was settled in the hot water and closing his eyes at the relief from the heat.

“Need anything?” Steve asked from the floor next to the tub.

Eddie rolled his head along the back of the tub, opening his eyes and smiling at Steve.

“Might need a snack soon, but for now, just sit with me?”

“Anything you want, Eds.”

Sometimes it scared Eddie how much Steve truly meant when he said anything.

He knew whatever he asked, whatever he needed or wanted, Steve would find a way to do it or die trying.

And it wasn’t just like that for Eddie.

Robin and the kids got the same from him, which just made Eddie love him even more.

Steve’s hand rested in the water, ready to add more hot water the moment it no longer felt hot enough.

They sat in silence, Eddie’s eyes closed as he tried to forget about the ache deep in his bones.

He startled when he heard Wayne asking Steve if he wanted him to make them all some lunch.

He looked over at Steve and nodded.

“Yeah, lunch would be great! I’m gonna get him out in a minute,” Steve said before sitting on the edge of the tub.”You ready to get out?”

“Mhm. Just gotta be slow,” Eddie said.

The bath had helped, but he knew better than to think the pain was gone. He knew when he started moving again it would probably get worse.

He took it easy on his way back to bed, towel wrapped around him, almost his entire body weight relying on Steve to get him there.

Between Steve and Wayne, he didn’t have a moment go by where he wasn’t getting cared for.

Steve even gave him a massage, found every spot that hurt and made it turn to jelly with little to no effort.

He fell asleep with the heating pad under his back, the noise from Wayne’s tv show coming from the living room, and Steve’s hand in his hair.

[barry-j-blupjeans]

2022 Fic List!

This is a compilation of all the fics I've posted on Ao3 in 2022, plus some ficlets I like that I posted here! As always, Journal Pages is still being updated but I'm not gonna put it on this list because I made it last year (I think??)

Memories, Just a Bit To the Left

Being kidnapped was, honestly, not incredibly horrible. It wasn’t a good thing, for sure, for sure, but Barry could deal with it. Was he low on hit points? Yeah, and it was shitty. Did he feel like he was going to die? Occasionally, that’s just something that happens sometimes, you know? But it wasn’t all bad. Some of the gerblins were nice. They gave him some water, kicked him around a bit more, gave him an orange that they refused to peel so Barry just kind of spat the peel out as he went. A solid three out of five stars.

But he wasn’t too worried about the whole thing. Even as low as his hit points got, he knew that Taako would come find him. It was just a matter of if he would find Barry too late.

This was for the 2021 Candlenights exchange and it is killer, I think. I really enjoyed getting to write this and explore the space of this AU.

Archaeology Excavation on My Body

“How do you always know everything?” he asked instead of rising to her bait. “That’s the secret I want to know, ma’am. You’ve got prying eyes anywhere? Listening ears?”

"I run a secret organization on the moon,” the Director said dryly. “I’ve grown accustomed to knowing both everything and absolutely nothing at the same time. If you don’t want me to know, then I won’t know. I’ll never bring it up again. I’m simply offering us a way to, uh-” she glanced at the wall. It had been twenty minutes since the Reclaimers went offline. “Pass the time. And perhaps a way to help manage your pain a little better. No one else has noticed, Angus, but you do tend to limp a bit.”

Fuck, Angus thought.

This one was a pure vent fic, but I'm glad other people could relate to it anyway! I love giving characters I like everything that's wrong with me.

Tedious Familiarity

Déjà vu. Noun. A feeling of having already experienced the present situation. A tedious familiarity.

Barry Bluejeans woke up in a cave, fresh out of a pod filled with green goop, and saddled with an unsettling feeling that he had been here before. If you had asked forty-year-old Barry if he would follow instructions left by a talking coin, he probably would have asked you what type of drugs you were on. But, y’know, fifty… two? Fifty-one? How old was he? Fifty-two sounded right. But, y’know, fifty-two years old Barry didn’t really have that many other places to turn, so this couldn't be all that bad.

Barold my beloved!! I love any take on Barry's years alone and I thought I'd give myself a stab at it! Or several stabs, if we're going by death count. I really like how this one came out!!

Heart-Shaped Stickers

A collection of my blupjeans week prompts for 2022!

As seen on the tin sldkfsd.

Keep Your Friends Close (And the Lich Who Gives You Cryptic Advice Closer)

“There’s a lot you don’t know and I can’t tell you yet,” the Red Robe said. “And I’m genuinely sorry about that, Magnus, but right now, from the Bureau’s perspective, I’m not the good one.”

“From your perspective?” Magnus asked.

“From my- I…” he stopped again, contemplating, as if no one had ever asked him this question before. "I try to be, I think."

AKA: Magnus has questions and no one from the Bureau is giving him answers. He goes looking for the one person who will.

This baby is my pride and joy of this year, I think. It has always taken me Ages to write any chaptered fic but I'm very very proud of this one.

Autumn-Themed Notebook

Prompt fills for TAZ November Celebration 2022.

Again, as seen on the tin!

Now onto the Tumblr Ficlets!!

This list would not be complete without this ficlet about Magnus, Carey, and Killian discussing Magnus's top surgery or this one about a heart-shaped locket Barry picked up. Some other favorites from this year include:

Voidfished Taako interacting with Red Robe Lup and Barry (x)

June/The Temporal Chalice finding Barry's worst memory (x)

Merle and Hekuba talking post Story and Song (x)

Lucretia and Magnus talking about emotions and the stars (x)

Lucretia discovering the umbrastaff broke early (x)

Barry and Lucretia forming a truce to fuck over Governer Kalen (x)

Lucretia trying to discover who's stealing from the Fantasy Costco (x)

Taako taking the fall for all of Lup's deaths (x)

The Starblaster Crew stealing Magnus's shirts while he's dead (x)

Taako, Kravitz, and the mafia - Werewolf edition! (x1, x2, x3)

I gotta stop there or else this will go on forever sldfksdf. Let me know if you have any particular favorites from what I've written this year :D! It'd mean the world to me. My writing tag is #ise cube writing as always and my ao3 is IntrovertedHappiness if you wanna go check me out there!

[shares-a-vest]

Hiii. So I've decided to write some stuff in the lead-up to Valentine's Day. Nothing elaborate, just some Steddie-centric Valentine's ficlets/nonsense/shenanigans. I might not write every day (bc lately my brain has been barely working) but here's hoping this little project gets me out of my funk.

I'll Steal You Some Flowers

“Remind me, again, why it’s easier for us to commit theft than just buy some flowers?” Dustin groans from behind Steve as he takes one last look at his neighbour old Mrs Collins’s, empty driveway.

“Yeah, I don’t really like the idea of this anymore,” Lucas adds, standing upright and stepping away from the property's side fence they are all crouched behind. “I don’t even think Max will like flowers.”

“Every girl likes flowers!” Steve stage-whispers as he whips around to look at the complaining duo.

At least Will Byers still seems interested in the scheme, seeing as he wastes no time in lightly slapping Dustin on the shoulder and making a face.

“Then why did you come?” he asks with an annoyed hand gesture.

“Wait, did you steal those roses you were going to give Nance?” Dustin shrieks, standing upright and folding his arms.

Jesus Christ. These kids really do make things difficult.

Steve stands and mirrors Henderson’s defiant posture.

“Actually I bought those from the completely overpriced gas station,” he retorts and places his hands on his hips. “Now, old lady Collins is gone, so who’s with me?”

“This really feels like something Eddie would suggest,” Lucas says, jumping up and dangling from the fence, scoping out the backyard with a sceptical eye.

“Nope, all my idea,” Steve retorts. “And I want to surprise him so today’s the day, assholes. Now, if you’re going to chicken out, Henderson, you can stay here and be the lookout.”

“I’m staying too,” Lucas chimes, snatching the radio off Dustin.

“Fine, I’ll go,” Will relents and reaches a hand out for the other radio. “Which flowers do you want for Max again?”

Lucas shrugs.

Will sighs and lolls his head back as he rolls his eyes as dramatically as possible.

“So helpful, Sinclair,” Steve says. “I’ll get you some roses. Can’t go wrong with those.”

He removes his backpack and sets it down to retrieve two pairs of gardening gloves and clippers.

“So you own several pairs of gardening gloves but can’t grow your own flowers!” Dustin wonders aloud with a furrowed brow in that tone he gets when he thinks Steve is the dumbest person alive.

“Shut up,” he says, throwing the floral pair to Will and putting the larger ones on. “My mum likes gardening but has a total black thumb so we’ve got all the equipment and the sparsest garden in Hawkins.”

“If we get caught, you’re taking the fall,” Dustin insists.

“Why did you come anyway?” Lucas asks, turning with a hand on his hip towards Dustin. “It's not like you can send Suzie flowers through the mail!”

“I'll have you know,” Dustin starts, snatching the radio back. “I sent Suzie a poetic letter and we are going on a long-distance date over Cerbero for Valentine's Day, thank you very much.”

He places his hand on his heart and practically bops on the spot, beaming at the idea of the lamest, nerdiest date on the planet. Steve rolls his eyes even though with the pair now turning on each other (and thus, distracted), it is probably time to go over the plan. He places a hand on Will’s shoulder.

“You take the radio and the binoculars and stay facing the house. Collins has this annoying yapping little dog named Archie, but he stays inside. I’ll get the flowers and hand them to you.”

“Okay,” Will nods and blushes, likely remembering his rose that he plans on anonymously sending to Mike. A plan that no one knew about except for Steve.

“Remember,” he begins, nodding. “Stealth.”

He ignores the scoffs coming from the pair behind them and waits for a nod of understanding from young Byers who only gestures for him to get the hell on with their plan.

Steve throws his backpack to Dustin, who just allows it to fall and spill onto the grass. He waves it away and silently beckons Will to follow as he books it for Collins’ side gate between the side hedge and garage. He unlocks it and, with Will right behind him, they cross the backyard to Mrs Collins’s prize-winning flower garden, the envy of every housewife in Hawkins. Archie isn’t anywhere to be heard although, now that Steve thinks about it, he won’t hear the little critter for shit anyway.

“What did I tell you,” he says, outstretching a welcoming arm as he ducks his head to miss the white trellis arch covered in wisteria.

“Holy shit,” Will says, following along and heading straight for the corner patch of rose bushes.

“Exactly,” he says.

He makes quick work of cutting some roses, working from the back of the bush before heading over to the next one as he carefully takes from each bush so as not to draw suspicion. Will begins counting them out on a bare patch of grass when the radio kicks in with incoherent noise as if Dustin and Lucas are fighting over who gets control.

“Abort! Abort!” Dustin screeches. “Mr Collins has returned home. I repeat. Mr Collins is parked in the driveway and headed for the side gate. Steeeeeeve! Over.”

“Shit!” Steve yells.

He starts gathering up the roses and immediately scratches his forearm as he attempts to hastily tuck them under his arm. And, not wanting to leave without his share of the spoils, Steve quickly yanks a handful of tulips square out of the ground and looks up to find Will sprinting to the back fence, a bunch of roses in hand.

“We’re leaving, over,” Dustin says through the crackling radio.

Cowards. All of them, traitorous cowards.

“Steve?” Mr Collins calls across the lawn, breaking his focus.

He looks over to find Mr Collins staring at him with slack-jawed confusion before he looks down to discover the flowers in his hands.

“Fuck.”

Steve drops the cutters and runs for it, vaulting over the small fence that separates the garden from the lawn and follows Will, who’s struggling to escape over the back fence.

“What on earth!” Mr Collins exclaims, obviously spotting Byers.

Steve throws his flowers over the fence and Will follows suit before he kneels down to boost the boy up.

“Just run for it,” Steve relents as Mr Collins continues yelling at both them and the dog that must be barking.

“I thought you said no one was home!” Will yells as he disappears over the fence with a thump.

“He's supposed to be at work!” Steve calls back as he does a small run-up and jumps as high as he can so he’s half-hanging over the fence.

The planks are sticking into his stomach, which these days aches like hell. And as he feels a sharp tinge in his back, Steve rolls forward and over the fence, landing directly on his right shoulder. Feeling it dislodge, he wails in pain and clutches at his dislocated joint.

“Steve!” Will says, crouching down beside him.

“Just leave the flowers,” he groans.

Before he knows it, Steve finds himself on a bed in the emergency department of Hawkins General with his arm in a sling and Will sitting at his bedside. And just like that Eddie appears, pulling back the dividing curtain with a hard tug.

“Oh no,” he groans, sinking his head further back into the pillow.

“Oh no, indeed,” Eddie says, stern despite the smallest smile tugging at the corners of his mouth.

“Why did you call him?” he whines at his co-conspirator. “I’m fine.”

“Who else was I supposed to call!” Will argues, gesticulating wildly.

“Byers,” Eddie begins, reaching in his pocket for loose change that he tosses to Will. “Go get a snack. I’ll drive you home later.”

“You aren’t going to tell Hop, are you?” the boy asks, worried.

“Oh, god no, man,” Eddie insists without a second thought.

Steve knows he's in for a lecture. And will have to fess up about what the hell he was doing that led to him being admitted to emergency with a dislocated shoulder. But Eddie will stop short of tattling to anyone, let alone Chief of Police Hopper.

At that guarantee, Will scurries off into the waiting room. Eddie sits on the edge of Steve's hospital bed and purses his lips.

“So…” he begins and Steve can't tell if he's pissed off or just mildly inconvenienced. “Getting the boys ready for Valentine’s Day actually meant stealing flowers from your neighbour like a regular Dennis the Menace?”

“Like you haven’t stolen anything,” Steve huffs and if he could, he’d fold his arms.

“We literally committed Grand Theft Auto together, sweets,” Eddie smiles before going all coy and running his hand along Steve’s thigh, his jeans covered in grass stains. “Did you steal me anything?”

“Tried to,” he says, low and disappointed at his botched heist. “But we left them when I fell.”

“You’re so naughty, Steve Harrington,” Eddie coos, leaning in close.

He winks.

“I’m sorry,” Steve says.

“I’m sorry that your arm is in a sling!” Eddie shoots back and tsks’. “Just in time for Valentine's Day! And to think, all the things you could be doing with your right hand. Deary me...”

He theatrically slumps forward, clutching at Steve's right thigh and gradually creeps his arm dangerously further up his leg.

“Don’t,” Steve warns, shifting on the spot.

“Come on, let’s get you out of here,” he offers, leaping up and extending a hand. “I’m sure we can think of a workaround.”

Steve’s more than a little wobbly on his feet and honestly, it's a goddamn miracle he hasn’t gotten a migraine yet. Shit. This really wasn't a good idea. Likely sensing his sudden panic, Eddie loops an arm around his middle and adds a teasing squeeze to his hip before holding him tight.

“I’m taking you home to kiss you better,” Eddie continues, chancing a quick kiss on his cheek before they walk into the waiting room to find Will nervously downing a packet of crisps.

[steddielations]

Hello!

(I realised that the first paragraph combined with this being anon could give the impression that this was something negative so I’m just gonna stress that this is a VERY positive ask<3)

It’s been a while since I sent an ask (we’re talking probably ten years at least), but I wanted to try to articulate something after reading the ficlet (?) you posted about Wayne and dementia on the 29th.

First off, I’ve worked with people diagnosed (and undiagnosed) with dementia, and you managed to very elegantly capture the amount of self awareness, but also softness of a lot of the people I’ve met. I’m trying to articulate something that isn’t necessarily easy to explain (especially since english is not my first language) but know that it warmed my heart how you managed to write about a condition that is often made to be a death sentence, when it is something that is just a part of life for a lot of people and the ones who love them. In an attempt to not completly flood this ask I’ll leave it at that, and hope that you’ll at least take away from this that the way you wrote about dementia felt very real, without writing it as a tragedy.

Secondly (and lastly, I promise), I very often shy away from fics and ficlets (? again- rusty on the terminology) that border on angsty or bittersweet (I have a tendency to internalize), but you have an incredible way with words that made this so enjoyable even though the subject matter very easily could fall into either of those categories (for some, maybe it did!). I don’t know how to perfectly articulate this either but it felt so sweet, and a little sad, but lovely all the same.

In conclusion (I actually hate this, I’ve written an ask as if it’s a small research paper): you’re an incredible writer- something that shines through, even in so few words! I hope your day is as wonderfull as you writings made mine<3

This is so kind, thank you! This message literally made my day, you're so nice!!

I've had a few family members with dementia, mostly when I was younger so I guess that really shaped my view of it. So with this, I kinda just wanted to focus on the lighter parts, like you said how it really becomes just part of life and part of that person, it's not necessarily tragic all the time. Maybe from Eddie's point of view it definitely has harder days, but I wanted to show Wayne's perception and those bits of awareness he has, and how Eddie and Steve just kinda let him navigate it, instead of despairing. I'm glad you could enjoy this! I appreciate the compliments to my writing so much and I'm glad I portrayed it all in a way that resonated with you too!!

And no worries, this is incredibly well articulated, thank you for taking the time to send this to me. I'm honestly flattered that my little ficlet inspired the first ask you've sent in years!! I appreciate it so much and I hope you're doing well too!!

[invisibleraven]

20 questions for writers

So I was tagged by @stellarspecter last week (I am so behind on my dash) and @1mnobodywhoareyou today.

1. How many works do you have on AO3?

132-92 of which are JatP

2. What's your total AO3 word count?

1 853 063 (I’d say 1.5m is JatP) and I have a few ficlets to upload there from last week. We’re almost at 900 if you can believe that!

3. What fandoms do you write for?

Julie and the Phantoms for the past three years and I don’t see that changing any time soon.

4. What are your top 5 fics by kudos?

And giving yourself to me can never be wrong (251) My collection of smut prompt fills.

I Know Who I Want To Take Me Home (195) the first part of my Semisonic Sunset verse, and probably my claim to fame on this fandom.

But came the dawn (176) my favourite fic I’ve ever written. A PeterPatterLina soulmate AU that I will never top.

Better walk the line (129) my single dad Reggie PeterPatterLina fic.

Maybe this news can wait (126) The third (and only non smutty part) of the Semisonic Sunset verse.

5. Do you respond to comments?

Not anymore, it takes too many spoons.

6. What is the fic you wrote with the angstiest ending?

Haunted by the moments of what we used to be the fic that mostly got me comments of how very dare you because it is such an angst fest.

7. What's the fic you wrote with the happiest ending?

I think the last time I did this I said Yellow Wood but this time I’ll say So Close To Reaching That Famous Happy End-my PeterPatterLina Enchanted AU. I love it dearly, and hope that you do too if you read it!

8. Do you get hate on fics?

On my fics now no. A few concrit comments I could do without, and there’s the whole blacklist nonsense that still stings, but otherwise I’m pretty invisible.

9. Do you write smut? If so, what kind?

I have in the past yes, but it has been forever since I did so last. I have written M/M, F/F, M/F, and a bunch of multi partnered fics (though mostly M/M/F). Maybe I’ll add some to one of my many WiPs.

10. Do you write crossovers?

No, and I never will. I hate crossover fics and will go out of my way to avoid them.

11. Have you ever had a fic stolen?

Yes. It was an unpleasant experience I hope not to repeat.

12. Have you ever had a fic translated?

No, but I’ve given blanket permission on my AO3 to do so as long as you credit me and send me a link. Same thing with podfics, and any other fanworks of my stories.

13. Have you ever co-written a fic before?

No. If anyone wanted to, I think it would be fun!

14. What's your all-time favorite ship?

I seriously could not pick just one. I am a multi-shipper, even within my current fandom, but gun to my head I prefer reading and writing Rulie more than anything, with PeterPatterLina being a very close second.

15. What's a WIP you want to finish but doubt you will?

I have far too many WiPs and it has been a hot second since I touched any of them. At this point my trope bingo fic is pretty much dead, but maybe I’ll come back to it one day.

16. What are your writing strengths?

Endings apparently. It’s the thing I get complimented on the most.

17. What are your writing weaknesses?

Grammar, spelling, and editing.

18. Thoughts on writing dialogue in another language in fic?

Have done it before, and actually start doing Spanish in DuoLingo to be better about it, but I suck at conjugating verbs so that fell by the wayside. I mostly only use it for pet names.

19. First fandom you wrote for?

Trigun, a very very bad smut fic. After that Teen Titans because I fell in love with the Raven/Beast Boy ship. Those fics all still exist on my ff.net account if you find it, and my fave TT fic is on my AO3.

20. Favorite fic you've written?

But came the dawn obviously. Also So Close, and Yellow Wood all hold a piece of my heart. But if I were to pick the fic of mine that I re-read the most it’s For better or for worse my accidentally married demisexual Rulie fic that is exceptionally smutty and the best example of idiots to lovers there is.

Thanks for the tags, sorry I took so long. Tagging anyone who wants to play!