#Multi-chapter story

[jackiewepps]

Writing Announcement - The Changes of TLYFI

I will make this quick as I really should be in bed by now. I just need to post this before I can go to bed.

In case you have been following The Love You Fall Into on AO3, you will know that it was originally a series consisting of several one-shot (12 so far). I have made the decision to change that. It will now be a multi-chapter story under the name The Love You Fall Into.

Why did I make that choice?

There are a few reasons, but the main reason is that with the number of AC one-shots I have published over the past 2 years, it has run up the count to the point that it is probably the fandom I have posted the most for, or at least close to. My issue with this is that it doesn't reflect my feelings for Assassination Classroom.

Don't get me wrong, I love Assassination Classroom. It has a deeply moving story with many interesting characters and villains that I hate because I'm supposed to hate them. But it's not my favorite series. It's up there, yes, but it's not the one. Free used to be the top ranking fandom for me, and I feel like that was way more accurate, a better representation of who I am as a person and as a writer.

That's why I have decided to make TLYFI into just one story.

I will keep the one-shots that have already been published. The comments and kudos people have left on those works mean a lot to me, so I can't bring myself to even consider deleting them.

That's where we are.

The chapters will be in chronological order, so while the series starts with Kind Gestures, the multi-chapter story starts with Under The Surface. It is not a mistake.

This also means that for those who are fully caught up with the series, you will probably want to start from chapter 12. The title is Real Date. It will (hopefully) be up tomorrow, only a day late.

Thank you for reading my works so far. I look forward to you reading more of them.

[thatbuddie]

los angeles wasn't built in a day

buck/eddie | rated m | chapter 1/5 | 10k (this chapter) | getting together, fake dating (in a sense)

“We’re not going to pretend to be divorced just so Chris can get into a summer camp, Buck,” Eddie says, trying to sound convincing even as he starts to feel his resolution crumbling inside of him. “Why not?” Buck asks, sounding genuinely baffled, like he can’t understand Eddie’s refusal at all. And how does Eddie begin to explain the irrationality of his rational denial? He can’t tell Buck the real reason he can’t go through with it. He can’t tell him without having to reach into his chest, clawing out his heart, setting it down at Buck’s feet still beating, and saying, “Because the only thing worse than loving you knowing I can’t have you would be having to pretend like I didn’t love you enough to keep you with me forever.” (or the fake ex husbands to fake husbands to husbands fic.)

(read on ao3)

[jackie4dinner]

Being a teenage girl has never been so hard (ao3 is down)

[romcomxb]

another snippet of my wip because i need motivation to finish it-

‘Mav?’ A quiet voice sounded from across the room and Maverick glanced up. It was Bradley, standing in his blue pajamas and a teddy bear clutched in his arms. The teddy bear had been one of Carole’s from when she was a kid and had been passed down to Bradley years ago. His hair was ruffled and his eyes were squinting, he looked like a bear that had just come out of hibernation.

‘Hey, Baby Goose,’ Mav held his arms out to the boy, who quickly moved to curl up in his lap. ‘Nightmare again?’

Bradley had always had some form of night terrors, but ever since Carole’s death, they had gotten worse and more frequent. Ice and Mav had spent many nights attempting to calm him down, eventually they’d taken to bringing him into their own room to sleep.

Bradley closed his eyes and buried his face in Mav’s stomach, his shoulders were still shaking.

‘Mhmm-‘ The boy murmured, his voice muffled. ‘Can’t go back to sleep’

Maverick sighed and begun slowly running his hands through Bradley’s hair. Something he remembered his own mother doing when he was a child, and he had later done to Bradley’s father during the long months of deployment. It seemed to help, as the boy’s breathing slowed, and his stiff limbs relaxed into Mav’s hold.

The two sat there in silence for a while, the younger boy only shifting every so often. Maverick took the situation as a welcome distraction from the paperwork strewn before him and was more than happy to stay here as long as Bradley needed.

‘I miss Mama.’ Bradley’s voice was hushed, barley a whisper. Mav gritted his teeth, his hands pausing for a moment before he replied.

‘I know kid, we all do,’ He replied and leant down to place a kiss on his forehead. ‘I promise, it gets better.’

Mav realised he must not be the best person give this advice. He was barley holding himself together.

Bradley let out a little whimper and moved impossibly closer to Maverick, his tiny body squirming in his grip. A few moments later, the boy turned his gaze up to meet Mav’s, wide eyes blinking innocently.

‘Am I gonna live with you and Uncle Tom now?’ He whispered, leaning into Maverick’s hand in his hair. He paused, thinking the question over for a moment.

‘I hope so buddy, I really hope so.’ Mav continuing to slowly run a hand through Bradley’s hair, the motion soothing for both of them. 

[cannedpickledpeaches]

Insert Your Name (10)

Mafia!Jade Leech x Mafia!Reader

Link to series masterlist!

Notes and TW: You have a conversation with a "god." This series will have mentions of blood, violence, crime (kidnapping, attempted assassination, extortion), and harassment, as one might expect from a mafia AU. Please enjoy!

Tags: @guava-enjoyer @itszzmoon @twstsandturns @myteacupisempty @rou-luxe @chikitasmol @night-shadowblood-writes2 @haveneulalie @owodi

You thought as much for a while—that this world exists inside a story. This world is created for “(Y/N),” and you are Friend A, according to that manuscript. But after all this time, your own thoughts and Jade’s persistent questioning has led you to doubt it. Jade was the one who said you aren’t a character, that the two of you have “thoughts and feelings that go beyond ink on paper.”

But a god? It isn’t a common word in Twisted Wonderland. The Seven are legends, but they were real mages who lived millennia past. Some religions exist, but they’re mostly local. To see someone proclaim themself as a god before your eyes seems like a joke.

The man notes your skepticism and chuckles.

“I only mean it in relation to your abilities. It will become clear as I explain.” He takes another sip of tea. “Twisted Wonderland is a place made from stories, for stories. Broadly speaking, it is a ‘story setting.’ And my purpose is to make stories come to life.”

You try to make sense of his words. Referring to himself as a god, talking about what he does to stories . . . . “Are you the author of that manuscript?”

“No, I’m afraid you have come to the wrong conclusion. I make stories come to life, but it has been a long time since I’ve penned one onto paper. As for the matter of the identity of the author, you would not have to look very far, as she has spoken to you only moments prior.”

You inhale sharply. Your eyes drift to the window as your thoughts start to whirl. That can only be (Y/N). She was the author all along? It would make sense since she’s the main character. But nothing else adds up. Her odd behaviour, her breakdown, her supposedly lost memories of you. You’re also pretty sure she has never met Jade prior to the events of the manuscript playing out in real life. How could she have written it before that? Furthermore, you don’t believe (Y/N) could ever be the type of person to imagine harm coming to anyone, even in a fictional story, even if it’s to Jade’s parents whom she has also never met.

“To clarify, that person is not the one you’ve known for some time.” He chuckles at your bewilderment. “(Y/N) was a character created to be a placeholder. Tell me, do you recall her appearance?”

“Of course I—” You cut yourself off. The only things you can think of are adjectives. Pretty. Dainty. A messy bun. A slim waist. Gorgeous, sparkling eyes. You can’t even remember their colour.

“(Y/N), which stands for ‘Your Name,’ is a placeholder. A blank space where anyone can insert their name.” The teacup clinks against its saucer. “It is supposed to be a one-size-fit all. However, the (Y/N) you know was created for a specific person. The name that was intended to replace this placeholder is that of a girl who lives outside this story setting—a girl who did not exist in Twisted Wonderland. That is the true author of this story.”

You don’t understand what he means by “placeholder.” But you know what he means by people who live outside your world. You recall the twins and Azul mentioning something similar. Shrimpy. Prefect. That human from their high school days, someone who supposedly came from another world. Someone who did not exist in Twisted Wonderland before coming here.

“Were there other cases of . . . well, people from other worlds?”

“Certainly. Like I said, Twisted Wonderland is a place made from stories, for stories. Seeing as tales of strangers in strange lands are the foundation for many stories, from folklore to modern novels, it is not strange to believe someone could be the protagonist of a story where they are pulled from another world to this one.” He pauses when he sees your furrowed brows. “I must apologize again. I am often chastised for my long-winded deliveries.”

“Yeah, you talk too much. Cut the fluff and tell me.”

He chuckles. “Yes, of course. The most recent prior to this case was one named Yuu, although that character was not under my jurisdiction. Your author, however, is under my jurisdiction. She was a fan of Yuu’s story. Once it ended, she sought to extend the story. Essentially, she wrote a fanfiction, which is the very manuscript you stumbled upon. The setting is Twisted Wonderland years after Yuu's story, and the main character she created is an idealistic version of herself—the person she wished she could be.”

It makes sense why you could only think of positive adjectives when describing her. (Y/N) was indeed, like you’d thought from the start, created to be perfect.

“Day after day, she wished with all her soul to insert herself into that story, to live out that fantasy. Eventually, I heard her wishes and decided to grant them. I gave her the opportunity to enter (Y/N)’s body.”

“You can do that?”

“My dear,” he says pleasantly, “there was a reason why I likened myself to a god from your perspective.”

So they weren’t empty words or narcissism. This man has powers you have never even heard of.

The first thing you feel is a wave of relief. So the person who came screaming at you with the intent to kill was not (Y/N), after all. It was someone who took over her body. A stranger took over the body of your beloved friend, took over her life, her relationships, her autonomy . . . A stranger. The second thing you feel is anger. How dare they. How dare they waltz in and ruin everything? You keep quiet and listen to the man’s explanation, resentment bubbling in your gut.

“So the author abandoned her previous life to enter your world. It came with a few caveats: she must lose her name and run the course of the story as (Y/N). Only after the story’s conclusion would she regain her name. Another caveat was that she did not have access to (Y/N)’s memories. I imagine it was a point of curiosity for you—why she seemed to forget everything about who you are.”

You narrow your eyes. “It wasn’t Walrus?”

“I am afraid not. She has never encountered Walrus.”

Deductions and contemplations can be wrong. You know this better than anyone. Yet, you can’t help but feel cheated. With all the information you had, how could you possibly have known? It’s as though you were blindsided by a truck. Looking back, it makes sense. The elusive identity of the author. How the manuscript contains insider knowledge about events concerning the Leech family. Of course it does, the author was the one who wrote those details into existence. Even her reaction to seeing you on the beach, which must have been her first time meeting you. Of course she was confused when Jade mentioned you to her. You don’t have a name in the story. How could she possibly know the name of Friend A?

“Walrus is a character who ties up inconsistencies from the original plot. I had to work hard to ensure it all fell in line.”

���Aren’t you a ‘god?’ Can’t you just, I don’t know, make it happen?”

He laughs. “I am not omnipotent. I can only influence factors that make the story more likely to happen. As in, I can create ‘events,’ which influence ‘responses and actions.’ Characters are defined by their base character traits and then shaped through events; this is what is called character development. I design and set into motion events that will most likely produce the desired characterization. Notably, I cannot control characters or their emotions. I must say, that young lady did not understand this concept very well. Her events were heavily focused on what her favourite characters could do for (Y/N), as opposed to building a foundation so they would wish to do such things. It was rather difficult to make sure the pieces fell in place so those events could occur.”

Several things connect in your mind like a line of dominoes tipping each other over. The manual first appeared in that attic with no clear origin—he must have planted it there because you, Jade, and Floyd are the only people who enter that room. Jade fell asleep in (Y/N)’s apartment because he was busy to the point of exhaustion after taking up the mantle as the leader of the mafia. (Y/N) did not become Floyd’s mood stabilizer. Jade did not fall in love with her. When she—the author—confronted you on the beach, she blamed you as the reason why Jade would not love her. But that isn’t entirely true, is it? Her “events”—Jade cooking for her, sleeping in the same bed—relies on Jade already having feelings for her. But to Jade, she was a stranger he met in an alley. You understand a crucial fact: actions and emotions cannot be manipulated.

“I admit that I panicked and caused you alarm when I tried to send you and Jade away from that beach. That whole debacle was not an event in the story, so I caused some factors that led to Floyd accidentally breaking one of Jade’s terrariums. It was not a serious emergency.” He grows pensive. “But now that the story has gone completely off the rails, I must figure out how to proceed. The author is quite upset with me, especially since she thought with my help, the story was guaranteed to go exactly as written.”

“You were communicating with her?”

“Periodically, yes.” He sips his tea, looking directly at you. “But she was terribly hard-headed and refused to listen to my words.”

What a waste. She had a god on her side, yet she couldn’t use her brain to take advantage of it? Perhaps it’s your bias against her, but you can’t think well of the author.

“Why did you decide to grant her wish, anyway?”

The man lowers his gaze with a soft smile. “I am a storyteller at heart, and she had a story she desperately wanted to become her reality.”

You grit your teeth. “So what? It’s only made things difficult for everyone. Is that shitty story even worth telling?”

“What do you use to judge a story’s worth? The number of people who read it? The number of critics or fans? These are all irrelevant.” His eyes, though gentle in the warm light of the fireplace, hold silvery clarity and resolution from the moonlight. “All that matters is that one person found enjoyment in it. Even if the only person who loves a story is its author, that story has served its purpose. There is no such thing as a meaningless story. Every writer sets out to write a story for a reason, be it wealth, fame, personal satisfaction, a creative outlet . . . . Why do you think this author wrote hers?”

It doesn’t take a genius. Her obsessive, near delusional insistence that Jade loves her. Her breakdown from seeing the two of you together on that beach. Her malice towards you, perceived to be standing in the way of her love. Of her happiness.

“She wanted to be loved.”

She wrote a story where she could project herself onto a perfect, infallible main character. In this story, her favourite character would love and spoil her. They’d overcome trials and eventually live out their happily ever after, blissfully in love, even past the story she wrote. She wanted to be loved fully, completely, and unconditionally.

You feel a little sorry for her. But if you were to be honest . . .

“Why the fuck should I care?” You slam your hands on the coffee table, glaring at the man sitting across from you. Your hands curl into fists. “I don’t give a shit about her personal life. Jade and Floyd’s parents are in a coma. They’ve been worried sick. And that’s just fine? Because she wanted to live in her little fantasy of being loved? If I believe everything you say, then she’s the one who wrote that assassination into our lives. Without her, Mister and Missus Leech would be perfectly fine and running everything as usual. Jade and Floyd wouldn’t be missing sleep and meals. Jade could go study terrestrial plants and fungi like he’s always wanted instead of working himself to the bone for the mafia. You’re telling me I’m just supposed to accept it just because she’s got a sob story? And even worse, none of this would’ve happened without you.”

The assassination attempt is mentioned in the story as an offscreen event. In order for it to be true, the man across from you most likely manipulated events so that the attempt would be carried out. Just like he’s been doing for every event, all this time.

You want to lunge across the coffee table. You want to wrap your fingers around his thin throat, dig your thumbs into his carotid arteries, punch his nose in. But you don’t. You restrain yourself, your hands shaking on the table. With his abilities, he could easily make your life impossible.

“Fanfiction is fine. People can write what they want. But her fanfiction has very real consequences on my life and the people I care about. Why would you even help her knowing the harm she’s causing?”

Hypocrite, Floyd has once called you. That author is selfish in that she’s chasing her own happiness at the expense of what she considers minor characters. You’re selfish in that you’re ensuring happiness for yourself and your loved ones at the expense of the author, a stranger to you. You’d be a hypocrite for condemning her, but you don’t mind. You haven’t gotten this far by sacrificing yourself for strangers.

“Why, of course.” The man tilts his head as though it’s obvious. “No story can progress without conflict. You are a supporting character, as are the main male lead’s parents. Forgive me, but such characters are expendable for the purpose of the plot.”

It suddenly dawns on you. You should’ve realized sooner. This man doesn’t see you as a person. He only sees you as another character within a story, a particularly troublesome one who has messed up the plot beyond repair. You might wholeheartedly believe yourself to be a fleshed out human being with thoughts, feelings, and everything else, but he will always think of that as you being a character. His powers and knowledge of the world make him vastly different from you. He cannot talk to you on equal terms.

It’s like if an ant gained sentience and spoke to a human. Even with the ability to communicate perfectly, the ant would never be able to understand why humans enjoy roller coasters or haunted houses, no matter how much either side tries to explain. Similarly, you would never understand this man’s desire to turn stories that are destructive to “characters” into reality. So, you won’t try. You’ll work with his rules.

“I may have a solution to the derailed plot.” You look at him with determination quietly burning in your eyes. “It’s pretty simple if you can do it. Make me the main character.”

[allgremlinart]

sometimes with writing I almost fall into the pit of despair like oh you keep putting this off when exactly is this elusive well of inspiration going to hit BUT then I remember that NO its MY job to make this specific porn this is MY porn thats important to ME. cant let ME down. so I wont be killing myself this week

[mechazushi]

Kafka Hibino

Kafka Hibino.... with visible salt and pepper side burns.

Kafka Hibino.... wearing glasses and has salt and pepper side burns.

Kafka HIbino.... in that black turtleneck and a dark brown leather jacket and also wearing glasses and has salt and pepper side burns.

Kafka Hibino.... wearing that outfit and is an Animal Biology Professor in an College Au.

Kafka Hibino..... asking out Hoshina who is an Advanced Mathematics Professor working at the same college, to have an after-work drink with him.

Slightly DRUNK Kafka Hibino... becoming very forward with an also slightly drunk Hoshina

Slightly Drunk Hoshina... immediately matching Kafka's freak tenfold and Kafka is very much fine with this.

[askcometcare]

OOC: I just found out about the fics in your toyhouse, and I love them! I wish I could've read them sooner! Are ya planning on making more?

OOC: yes, i am! i dont write them as frequently as i do updates cuz writing can be kinda hard for me sometimes (when its not like... planning something) but i do like making these little stories a lot :3 i think it would be fun to do a multi-chapter one at some point

[emsylcatac]

You know how in irl scandals when a famous rich white man is revealed to have done something really really bad, whatever it is - and despite the amount of proof, people are still split between turning against him or supporting him and thinking the scandal is a fraud

Imagine that if Gabriel is revealed to be Monarch and not some self-sacrificing hero. Fashion events in Paris will still be made in Gabriel's honour despite the revelation. Some people will call that out, outraged that a terrorist & child abuser is being honoured. Some will say you gotta separate the man from the artist. Others will say it's all lies and a wild conspiracy, because "Ladybug said so and she wouldn't lie to us", or because Gabriel always was an "honest man and would never do that". Another part might mistrust Ladybug, while others might defend her. Some might wonder if Adrien's part of it all, some might defend him. Some won't care at all about any of this and will just happily live their life now back to normal.

And "Lila" (whoever her name is) will look at all this mess and have a lot lot of fun 😊

[waytooinvested]

Forgotten, Not Forgiven - Chapter 1

Still reeling from finding out the truth herself, Lena suddenly finds herself in the midst of an odd role reversal in which she knows that Kara is Supergirl, but Kara no longer has any idea she has ever been more than an ordinary human.

And what’s more, Lena has no choice but to keep the truth from her for her own protection…

This and previous chapters also on AO3

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Alex: Have you seen Kara?

Lena glanced at her phone and raised an eyebrow at the text lighting up her screen.

That woman had such a nerve.

She ignored the message and turned back to her computer, only to have another text ping in five minutes later.

Alex: Seriously Lena, she was due back hours ago and I haven’t heard anything. I need to know where she is.

Lena huffed irritably, but gave in.

Lena: I have no idea where she is. Kara and I are no longer friends, remember? I’m sure she’ll turn up in her own time.

Lena: We both know she can look after herself.

Alex didn’t respond again, so naturally Lena assumed that Kara had indeed turned up in her own time, and that everything had been fine after all.

That is, until she saw the headline in the news a week later:

SUPERGIRL MISSING?

She almost didn’t click the link.

Since she had found out the truth about Kara three months ago, Lena had done her best to comprehensively uproot the weed of their friendship from her life, and so far had been reasonably successful.

She had deleted Kara’s number from her phone before she had even made it back to her jet after her run in with Lex.

On the flight home she had called her assistant and asked her to make sure that Kara Danvers was escorted off the premises immediately should she show up at L-Corp, and had left a similar message with the security staff in her apartment complex.

Selling Catco had taken a little longer, but only because dealing with such a large asset could not be rushed. She might have been in pain, but Lena was a shrewd business woman and ensured that the sale was made with a hefty profit, the value of the company boosted by the revenue generation improvements she had made while in charge. She had also wanted to take her time to pick the perfect boss for Kara: someone who would inarguably make the magazine more profitable as a business than it had ever been before, while systematically and comprehensively destroying everything about it that had made Kara love her job there.

The new three year contracts with a non-compete clause thrown in had been a nice touch.

She could have taken her revenge further than that – had even planned exactly how she would do it.

The night of Kara’s Pulitzer prize. A damning speech about truth and lies, followed by Andrea Rojas leading the exposure of Supergirl’s secret identity to the world. Betrayal returned like for like, and Kara left as broken hearted as Lena had been.

Oh yes, she could have done it. Luthors were scorpions, and Lena knew how to sting.

But something had held her back from taking the final plunge that would have ripped safety and anonymity so irrevocably from Kara’s life. She wanted to believe it was her own compassion – an innate goodness that led her towards the moral high ground and made her fundamentally better than the Luthors she had so often sought to distance herself from, but it wasn’t true.

The reason she hadn’t done it was Lex.

Maybe if she had managed to pull the trigger last time they met, if she had murdered her own brother in cold blood for the sake of her traitorous false-friend, maybe then she would have done it. If Lex was dead and buried and out of her life for good, Lena could finally have stepped out of his shadow and stopped framing every decision she made against what he would have done. But Lex was still out there somewhere, laying low for now but undoubtedly still scheming, killing, making the worst decisions a human being could make while still being labelled as such, and that made a difference.

Revealing Supergirl’s identity to the world was a plan that Lex would have wanted her to carry out.

And so Lena hadn’t.

That had been enough at first, but as the weeks passed and the first fire of her rage cooled from white hot inferno to mere black smith’s forge fire, she found she was glad that she hadn’t taken the nuclear option. Kara might have deserved retribution for what she had done, but exposing her identity would put everyone she knew, including the entirety of the Catco staff and her unsuspecting apartment neighbours in serious danger from every human and alien criminal out there with a weapon and a score to settle, and Lena wanted no more innocent blood on her hands than had already been passed down to her as part of her dubious Luthor inheritance.

And she didn’t want Kara to die.

That didn’t mean she cared if Supergirl really had gone AWOL. She had had nothing to do with it, and it was none of her concern anymore...

Lena clicked the link.

According to this site, Supergirl had been observed flying off to the north of National City on an ‘unknown errand’ eight days previously and had not been seen since, leaving two major bank robberies, a fire at a children’s hospital and a collapsed ceiling at a swimming pool without support from ‘everyone’s favourite hometown hero’.

Eight days. That tallied with how long it had been since Alex had asked if she knew where Kara was, allowing for the full day that had passed before the DEO Director had made the decision to reach out to her. It struck Lena now that it was an odd thing for her to have done under normal circumstances. She might not have done anything to Alex specifically during the first fierce storm of her separation from their little group – at least not beyond a few short, sharp words and a door slammed in her face – but Alex had taken Lena’s swift and total removal of Kara from her life if anything even worse than Kara herself had, and had been round to yell at her over hurting Kara’s poor little feelings before the end of the first week.

She must have been desperate to have reached out to Lena like that after all this time.

Now she was looking for them, Lena found that there were dozens of similar stories popping up, ranging from serious think pieces about what this could mean for National City and Supergirl’s own welfare, to tabloid trash that suggested she might be having some sort of torrid three way affair with a sexually promiscuous alien couple from Saturn (why Saturn? Unclear. What was clear was that the entire story was utter garbage apart from one essential point: Supergirl was nowhere to be found).

Lena picked up her phone and tapped in Kara’s number, her chest tight with unease as she waited for the call to connect.

Of course she knew Kara’s number by heart. If she hadn’t she would never have been able to make herself delete it from her contacts.

It rang.

Maybe Kara was carrying a big stack of files and didn’t have a hand free to get her phone out of her back pocket.

And rang.

Maybe she was in the shower and didn’t want to rush out to answer the phone while wet and covered in shampoo.

And-

‘Hi this is Kara! I can’t get to the phone right now, but please leave me a message and I’ll get back-’

Maybe she was just screening Lena’s call. After everything that had happened between them it was what most people would have done, and Lena would understand that.

She hung up and redialled.

‘Hi this is Kara! I can’t-’

Kara would never have ignored a second call from Lena. No matter how angry she was, if she could pick up the phone, she would have done so by now.

Again.

‘Hi this is-’

She tried Alex instead.

This time, the phone was picked up before the end of the first ring.

‘Do you have Kara?’

A stone thudded into the pit of Lena’s stomach.

‘She really is missing then?’

‘Fuck. Yes she’s missing. You didn’t even know?’

‘Not until I saw it on the news just now. When I didn’t hear anything more from you after that last text I assumed she’d made it back safely’.

‘No, you had just answered my question and clearly didn’t want to help, so-’

‘Yes well, I thought she had just taken a detour to France for crepes or something, not that she was actually gone’.

‘Right, and you were so concerned you waited a week to check’.

‘Much as it may surprise you to learn this Alex, I don’t make a habit of keeping tabs on people who have betrayed me. So if you don’t want my help finding Supergirl I’ll just-’

‘No, Lena, wait. Look, I’m sorry okay? I’m just worried about her. If I send you the co-ordinates for her last known location do you think you could see if you can find anything? She went after this weird energy signature we’d picked up, but then her radio went dark and we couldn’t get anything else from her. We went out there to see if she was in some kind of trouble, but the place she was headed: it’s just a field. There’s nothing there, not even a trace of the energy we got before, and no sign of a struggle or any kind of indication of where she went next’.

‘Send me what you have and I’ll see what I can do’.

‘Sending it now’.

Less than a minute later Alex’s email arrived with the relevant details about Supergirl’s last known location attached, as well as everything they knew about the energy signature she had been investigating.

It wasn’t a whole lot to go on, except-

There was something vaguely familiar about the signature. It reminded her of…

Lex.

It reminded her of Lex, and the trap he had once devised to lure in a certain type of pseudo-photosynthesetic alien who fed on a very particular wavelength of light that wasn’t naturally produced by Earth’s yellow sun. Once it was absorbed the aliens could be hooked up to a generator that would produce massive amounts of electricity and could have made fossil fuels all but redundant overnight. In theory. In practise however Lex had never been able to make the conversion work, and had eventually given up on the plan.

So why was it showing up again now? And what did it have to do with Kara’s disappearance? It seemed far too much of a coincidence to imagine that the two things were unconnected, especially when Lex was the common thread.

Quickly, Lena skimmed through her options, and picked one she could adapt to this new purpose. The DEO had been scanning for days with no luck, but she had one thing they didn’t.

She knew her brother.

It took another two hours to fine tune the software and upload it to a satellite with scanning capabilities, but at last it was ready. She cast a wide net, centred on the location Alex had given her but stretching out from it to search a 30 mile radius. If it really was Lex then the place he had lured Supergirl was a decoy, and would be located well away from wherever he actually wanted her to end up.

She had to extend her search parameters twice, but at last she found it. Not the same energy signature – that would be too obvious. No, what Lena had been looking for was the special coded frequency that Lex had developed in his teens. To most people it would look like background radio noise, but Lena knew better.

It was him alright.

She reached for her phone to call Alex, then hesitated. All she had actually done was locate her brother, or at least somewhere he was broadcasting from. But the site was more than 80 miles from where Kara had last been seen, and Lena was working on a hunch rather than any kind of real evidence that Lex had taken her.

Besides, if the DEO got him they would just send him back to jail, and it had become abundantly clear that a maximum security cell was not enough to contain him.

No, Lena was going to have to do this herself. She would find Lex, and if he really had kidnapped Kara, she would finish what she had started the night he revealed the truth about Supergirl.

She was going to kill him.

[kivaember]

had an idea for a post-FoR nightfall/621 oneshot idea, but i'm laughing bc the premise is like, so after 621 does Fires of Ibi 2: the electric bugaloo, he escapes to wander aimlessly on some random planet, completely lost bc he has no idea how to function outside of a handler+hound framework, and doesn't even have ayre anymore. nightfall comes to investigate what's happened to the raven that succeeded him, and is like oh, i gotta bully you back into shape, but they only know how to use tough love...

but really it's just gonna be like this when nightfall drags 621 back to branch like:

[unaluv]

to the anon that recommended me that aizawa fic on ff (submersion)...i love u more than words can say

i just finished it now (procrastinating on getting ready to go out), and idk if its actually completed (???), but the point that it's updated to feels like an ending so I'm beyond happy w it if it is.

that was seriously one of the most beautiful fanfics i have ever fucking read, sooo beautifully written and so tender i cried like multiple times- yearning for my man rn i swear

[tinderbox210]

Okay hear me out:

a Michael x Rayner AU inspired by the VOY ep. "Workforce"!

On the hunt for the Progenitor technology, the Discovery falls into another trap set up by Moll and L'ak where they use a device that messes with people's memories.

Michael and Rayner get abducted and end up at a salvage yard controlled by the Emerald Chain with false memories implanted into their heads (like the Voyager crew in the episode). Despite not remembering each other, they feel attracted to each other and start to hook up.

When the Discovery rescues them eventually and they regain their real memories, things are tense and awkward between them on the bridge because of what happened between them and even more because the feelings they have developed for each other just won’t go away again...

Oh, all the delicious unresolved tension with them trying to act professional and pretend it didn't mean anything and will certainly not happen again 😏

[shelbeetaylor]

Character Introductions (Part 2)

-> story masterpost

moodboard by @singingslayingsoprano

Genevieve Santira

Most of her life, people have only called her Genevieve, but Evie’s calling her Gena has begun to stick.

Genevieve uses she/her pronouns.

Genevieve is 20 years old at the beginning of the story, and her birthday is on May 16 which would make her a Taurus.

Genevieve is known as the Crown Princess’s maidservant to those outside the palace, but those inside know her as one of Cassandra’s best friends.

Likes: working with her hands like sewing and embroidery, helping her father in the smithy, and taking care of her friends

Dislikes: playing mother to the chaotic individuals she happens to be friends with, her inability to read or write, and Cassandra only when the princess doesn’t listen to her

Genevieve often frequents the taverns of Vale Serine not to drink but to listen to the songs played by the traveling bards. Since she cannot read or write, the lyrics of the nomadic musicians provide her with stories she wouldn’t be able to know of otherwise.

If Genevieve lived in our world, her playlists would probably be filled with songs by artists like Rihanna, Selena Gomez, and SZA.

Genevieve, though quite confident in her ability to perform her job adequately, she struggles a lot with her life at home. Her parents were forced into marriage and out of their village after having her brother--who she hates talking about-- out of wedlock. Genevieve was very young when her brother disappeared, and her home life took a turn for the worse. Now she relies on her time away at work and the adventures Cassandra drags her on to grant her reprieve.

Face Claim: Angel Coulby as Guinevere in BBC Merlin

moodboard by @singingslayingsoprano

Wesley Moonbourne

A lot of people often refer to him as Wesley, but Evie has deemed it more appropriate to call him Wes.

Wesley uses he/him pronouns.

Wesley is 20 years old at the beginning of the story, and his birthday is on October 14 which would make him a Libra.

Currently, Wesley holds no official title, but by training in Vale Serine under the instruction of Theo he hopes to earn himself a spot as one of the knights of Nevernia.

Likes: dogs, hunting, and playing chess

Dislikes: feeling like he doesn’t belong, Evie feeling bad, and being without his dog Ranger

Wesley grew up in the outskirts of Bellbury, a city surrounded by farmland, so one of his odd interests is agriculture. Most of his days in Bellbury were spent voluntarily helping around the nearby farms, much to his family’s chagrin. If Wesley wasn’t able to become a knight, his dream would be to move out into the countryside and live on a farm with his animals, his dog Ranger, and the love of his life.

If Wesley lived in our world, he would listen to a variety older music like songs by Johnny Cash, Elvis Presley, and The Beatles.

Wesley, having just moved to Vale Serine, is really struggling with trying to fit in. He wants to be accepted by the knights and especially by his idol, his cousin Theo, and he’s trying his best to become friends with them whether it’s by acting cool or sneaking along on their adventures. Hopefully his newfound friendship with Princess Evie will lead him in the right direction.

Face Claim: Noah Beck

moodboard by @singingslayingsoprano

Terran Willows

People usually just call him Terran, but the knights are also partial to Terr-man or giving him briefly-used, more colorful monikers… Sir Enoch’s favorite at the moment is Bog Man.

Terran uses he/him pronouns.

Terran is 20 years old at the beginning of the story, and his birthday is on June 20 which would make him a Gemini.

Terran is currently studying as an apprentice to Galen, the Court Physician, and he has been working under Galen for about five years.

Likes: his mother’s yearly visits, reading, and practicing magic in his room

Dislikes: Galen’s intense exams, getting scared, and Galen’s overprotective rules about magic and going out

In the spirit of helping people, Terran dedicates as much of his time and energy into improving the lives of others. While he is working towards becoming a physician full-time, Terran volunteers around Vale Serine helping those who need it. Sometimes the knights will even tag along to help and protect him, especially if he’s making a trip into places like Serine’s Hope to hand out food, provide free medical care, or distribute clothes.

If Terran lived in our world, he would definitely be a big fan of Maude Latour, but he would listen to mostly folk music like Hozier, Lord Huron, and Noah Kahan.

While Terran is quite proud of who he is as a person, there is still a lot of turmoil inside his head about it. He grew up in the outlying villages of Nevernia where it isn’t uncommon to see friends string up friends for being queer or possessing magic. Terran managed to escape that environment with his secrets intact, but the inner demons spawned in that hell have followed him to the big city, though he’s lucky to have Galen there reminding Terran every so often that he is not a monster for the way he was born.

Face Claim: Colin Morgan as Merlin in BBC Merlin

[discordiansamba]

the real hard rule of writing is that anyone who says you can 'skip around and write whatever scenes you like and then write the boring bits that connect them later' is lying to you. do not do this. writing in chronological order* is your friend.

[theresawritesstuff]

“Oh no, there is only one bed, what will we do now?”

I've been trying to get this one right for a long time. I feel like I wrote the start of at least five different versions before this one... Thanks for being patient 😘

Denver, 1965

“That…” Lenny managed finally. “That is quite the bed.”

The pair of them had been standing at the end of the king sized, pillow laden beast of a mattress for God only knows how long. 

Just staring, bags in hand like a couple of idiots.

“Yes it is,” Midge agreed, equally dumbstruck. 

“The uh…” She cleared her throat. “The bookings were part of the tour deal. I guess they thought you were Mister Maisel.”

He nodded absently. “Happens.”

“They probably overbooked. Thought they were doing us a favor with the upgrade,” she reasoned.

“Probably…”

They'd been on tour together for about a week with Lenny as her opener. She still couldn't quite believe it but she was now the bigger name out of the two of them.

She understood the how and why. It was just a little hard to reconcile. It didn't feel like it should be real.

Not like this at least…

Then again nothing had truly felt real since that night in San Francisco.

One minute she's chain smoking in the alley, fighting for her life against a panic attack, the next her manager is marching back into that hell hole of a club only to drag Lenny out by his ear to check him into rehab.

But even after he got out and Susie managed to clean up some of his legal messes the clubs still wouldn't touch him on his own merits.

Which is where she came in.

She'd hoped it could be a way for her to repay some of the favors he'd done for her when she’d hit a career low. To show him he still had her support. That she still cared about him, deeply. 

She'd never once stopped caring about him. Never would.

She would always love him.

But they'd barely spoken. At least not anything of consequence.

He didn't seem to think they had much left to say…

“I’ll um… You should take it. I can sleep on the couch,” he offered, breaking himself away from the bed to set his suitcase by the dresser.

Before he got any ideas…

They'd had their share of falling into bed with each other over the years but with them working together now he didn't feel like he was in any position to assume.

She'd always been very clear about her feelings on mixing business with pleasure.

And they hadn't exactly been together anytime recently. Things change. She might not want him anymore. He wouldn't blame her.

Certainly not after she and Susie had basically dragged him out of the gutter.

He'd never wanted her to see him like that. To see that he was so far gone. That all was very much not well.

Living on opposite coasts had made it easier to hide. 

They'd written a few letters. Shared a couple of phone calls, but he'd never let on just how bad off he was. He could barely admit it to himself.

He didn't want her help.

She gave it to him anyway.

Thank god she was just as stubborn as he was.

“What couch?” Midge wondered.

He looked up, glancing around the room.

Mountain view. 

Bathroom.

Absurdly inviting bed…

Coffee table.

Two chairs.

No couch.

“Oh…” he blinked. “Well there were a few promising options in the lobby.”

She looked at him skeptically. “You're kidding.”

“No, they really did look quite comfortable. Nice plush upholstery.”

Midge rolled her eyes, setting her bag down. “I know Susie had to bail on this stop to take care of business in New York, but if she hears you slept in the lobby you and I both will never hear the end of it.” 

He let out a sigh, deflating. “You're probably right.”

“You know I'm right.”

He nodded tiredly, swiping a thoughtful hand over his mouth.

Her manager had put in a lot of effort trying to turn his image around.

Their manager, he corrected himself mentally.

He was still having a hard time coming to terms with that one. 

He wasn't used to representation that didn't hound him for payment at every turn.

Lenny looked around the room pensively, snapping his fingers towards the sitting area.

“Chair. Chair looks good.”

He sat down, curling his long frame up onto the seat, testing the theory.

Midge sat down on the edge of the bed across from him, looking thoroughly unimpressed. “The chiropractor Susie hired to follow you around is gonna love that.”

“I've had worse,” he replied through a grimace he tried to pass off as a smirk.

A scoff of a laugh escaped her lips as she looked out the window at the storm brewing outside.

“This feels familiar…”

“How so?” he wondered, adjusting his position.

“The snow.” She gestured to the space between them. “You keeping a respectable distance.”

He shrugged, not meeting her eyes. “Seemed like the safe option.”

“Is it because I talk to my shoes? I don't do that in front of just anyone you know,” she quipped.

“Lucky me. Some guys would pay good money for that.” 

The chair reclined unexpectedly with a cartoonish clank of metal and springs beneath the seat, becoming even less comfortable than before.

“Lenny…”

“Hm?” he replied, attempting nonchalance.

“You've been avoiding me,” she informed him softly. “Care to tell me why?”

“I would not call going on tour together avoiding you,” he batted back lightly.

She waited patiently for his answer.

He huffed out a sigh, staring up at the ceiling.

“I've been trying to work out why it is that I'm here,” he admitted.

“Here as in the tour or more in a grand existential sense?”

To his noncommittal wave of a hand she replied “I needed an opener, you needed a job.”

“You felt compelled to fix my mess,” he corrected.

Midge blinked, her brow furrowing. “That's not–”

“I'm not angry,” he assured her, sitting up slowly. “I was for a little while, but that was more with myself than anything else. For giving you no other choice but to either turn your back or step in and try to put Humpty Dumpty back together.”

She shook her head, perplexed. “You needed help. We help each other. That's how we've always been.”

He smirked ruefully at the assertion. “I haven't been any help to you in a long time.”

Midge blinked.

She didn't have a comeback for that one.

“It's late,” he reminded her gently, stealing a decorative pillow from the other chair for his head. “You should try to get some rest.”

Her mouth set firmly as she looked back out the window, finding herself uncharacteristically speechless 

She wanted to argue. To remind him of everything they'd been through. To tell him exactly what seeing him at his lowest had done to her. What the thought of losing him had done…

But the words just wouldn't come.

Instead she got up from the bed, grabbing her night things from her suitcase to head for the bathroom to get changed.

Once she was alone she exhaled a shaky breath, gripping the sink tiredly.

She never asked Susie what it was she'd said to Lenny that night. 

Now she was starting to wish she had…

After a moment, she straightened up to get ready for bed, removing her earrings quickly then reaching around to unclasp her necklace.

Only it wouldn't budge.

She turned to look over her shoulder in the mirror, her fingers fumbling as the metal caught in the lace overlay of her dress.

The more she tried, the more tangled it became.

She begrudgingly turned to look at the door, weighing her options.

Fuck it. 

Pride hasn't done either of them any favors lately anyway.

“...Lenny?” she called out sheepishly.

“What?” 

She swallowed.

“I need your help.”

He appeared in the doorway a moment later, his tie and jacket removed.

She gestured helplessly, giving it one more attempt on her own. “It's stuck.”

“Yes I can see that…” he chuckled. 

She shot him a look.

“Alright, hang on,” he assured her, holding up his hands in a truce.

He came up behind her slowly, standing close so that he could see what he was doing.

Midge stayed quiet, attempting to hold her hair out of his way, the gravity of his presence all too familiar a temptation.

“Need your reading glasses?” she teased, fighting to ignore the butterflies she felt as his fingers brushed incidentally along her neck.

Lenny smirked. “I'll manage, thank you. Your various clasps haven't beaten me yet.”

Like she needed the reminder…

“There,” he said in triumph after a moment, reaching around her to set the necklace on the edge of the sink.

“Thank you.”

“You're welcome.”

They stood frozen, neither one wanting to be the first to pull away.

“You, uh,” Lenny hesitated, wetting his lips. “You want help with the zipper too?”

Midge nodded, glancing over her shoulder up at him. “If you don't mind…”

He nodded in the mirror in lieu of reply.

His hand settled tentatively against her dress, one warm and steadying as the other slowly skimmed it's way down, sending a thrilling shiver along her spine.

“This was never about fixing you, you know,” she murmured quietly before he pulled away. “I don't… You're not broken. Not to me.”

“I'm a little broken, hate to break it to you,” he chuckled self-deprecatingly.

She took the hand still resting against her hip in her own, holding it fast.

“No more than I am.”

His eyes grew soft as he looked down at their entwined fingers.

“Can I ask you something?”

She nodded, turning to face him.

“Why did Susie really take me on?”

To her furrowed brow, he reasoned, “Don't get me wrong. The comedy comeback story is good, but if that had been the real reason she would have reached out way before San Francisco.”

Midge looked down at the floor between them, running her thumb softly along his.

“Because I needed her to,” she whispered.

“Why–”

“I couldn't live with the idea of a world without you in it,” she cut off, her voice hoarse with the threat of tears. “You don't love someone for half a decade and then just shrug and throw in the towel while they slowly kill themselves in front of you. And don't try to say that wasn't what was happening because you and I both know that–”

He reached out then, pulling her close as his lips collided with hers in a tender, searing kiss.

Her hands fisted in his shirt as he caressed her jaw, clinging to him, desperate to feel that it was real.

That he was still there, whole and steady, heart still beating beneath her fingertips, and not just a cherished memory.

He pulled away slowly, resting his forehead to hers. 

“Thank you,” he murmured, his thumb brushing the moisture from the corner of her eye. “Thank you for never giving up on me. You had every right to.”

“And a few very good reasons not to,” she reminded him.

He smiled softly, pulling back just enough to look at her. “So five years, hm?”

She bit back a laugh. “Give or take.”

He smirked. “I think I've got you beat.”

“Oh yeah?” she wondered. “By how much?”

He shrugged. “A bit.”

“Hm.” She nodded, biting her lip thoughtfully. “What do you propose we do about it?”

“Well, you did basically save my life by intervening in it. I suppose we can call it even,” he chuckled, arching a playful brow. “Why, did you have some other ideas?”

She took his hand in hers, pulling him gently towards the bedroom. “We can figure it out in the morning. Until then…Think you can still manage my show corset?”

He grinned, letting her lead. “One way to find out.”

She smiled as her dress slipped to the floor, taking his breath away before coming to reclaim his lips.

He wrapped her in his arms, savoring every inch of her as they stumbled to bed where she reminded him what it feels like to be truly alive.

And just how grateful they both were for it.