#fanfiction aids

[stars-and-clouds]

All of Coerthas Map (pre-calamity)

I was using this as a reference in my fanfic for Estinien’s backstory and thought it might help others too!

The picture is from this blog page. It is not mine. The blog also has some 1.0 information that might be useful for some writers.

Edit:

Map is originally by: @chrysalisthoughts

[trektasticzine]

Our fundraiser for Palestine is now live!

Badges and stickers are now for sale on our shop website!

All profits made from these items will be donated to the charity Medical Aid for Palestinians (MAP), which works to provide urgent medical care to Palestinians suffering under occupation, in Gaza and the West Bank as well as in refugee camps in Lebanon.

The QR code on the "are you on the side of genocide?" sticker links to the Palestine Matters resource carrd when scanned.

Now we need you! 🫵

Please share this post to get this project more exposure!

Link to our shop:

Palestine Matters carrd:

[akumicchi]

It takes two to love

[Tamaki x fem reader] tw: food.

Just fluff and domesticity

— Do you think we have it all already?— Tamaki had asked, checking the red plastic basket full of groceries — We have the tapioca starch, fruits, milk...

— Yup, but guess what? —she turned to him with a playful twist of her head— You just won a coupon for a free meal cooked by yours truly. And I need some ingredients. The other day you said you were craving some pasta, right?

He swayed his head from side to side, barely containing a smile. Tamaki let himself be pulled further into the supermarket by their intertwined pinkies.

It was late in the afternoon when the weekly errands were finished and they settled back home for the night. It was an odd pretty thing, this routine both had built for their matching days off, whenever it was. It wasn't normally disrupted by a trip to the supermarket, but in Tamaki's book, quality time doesn't need a specific place to occur. The bought goods sat on the counter, while he rearranged them on their rightful places in the cabinet or the fridge. He had taken a pair of tomatoes from the bag, when she shamelessly stole them from his hands.

— Thanks, Tama, you're always such a gentleman —she teased and kissed his cheek before turning to the chopping board, light on her feet.

It wasn't out of the ordinary, but it was peculiar and funny to see her all...bubbly, like clear water from a stream. He laughed at her.

— You really are excited about making that pasta, wonder were that's coming from? —he got close to the sink, rolling up his sleeves.

— Nope, you're not working on this today, Hun —her hand went to his arm, stopping him from filling the pot with water.— This is my way to say thank you for all your hard work, it won't make sense if you're cooking too! This is your coupon, remember?

Tamaki could feel the heat on his face and the pickup of his heart rate.

— I-um... Okay. But at least let me prepare the boba tea. I want to thank you for your hard work too and —he spoke softly in a classic Tamaki fashion, looking at her right in her round eyes. He had become good at holding eye contact with other people. He thought it may have been due to her influence —, for putting up with me all this time.

She sat the knife on the chopping board, and her arms went to hang loosely around his neck— You know I'm not putting up with you, right? I'm here with you because I love you. I wouldn't be who I am now if it weren't for you, and believe me, I like who I am right now. Do you want me to remind you? —her voice was softer, lower like a whispered secret, as her fingertips rubbed his nape.

Tamaki shuddered under her touch and gaze. His nod was short, almost imperceptible under the weight of his shame. She hugged him tight, scratching his scalp and rubbing his nape. He felt himself go warmer after getting a few kisses on his cheek, heart pounding even faster when she whispered:

— You know I've never really had a favorite hero when I was a kid, right? None of them actually made me feel that sense of... admiration, so to speak. But after my time in UA, the internships and all that, I changed my mind. You are my favorite hero, Tamaki. You are my hero.

Tamaki sighed, like a weight had been lifted off his shoulders. He felt petty, needing to be reassured of something he already knew.

They stood there for a few minutes, holding each other tight, swaying slowly from side to side. Then the urgency to eat came over, and both returned to their tasks: Tamaki prepared the boba tea, she cooked the pasta. The mood picked up fast, with her bumping his hips and vice versa. She hand fed him some sauce and he hummed in satisfaction. Soon enough the food was plated and they sat next to each other at the table.

— Hmm! This is good! —Tamaki said, eyes closed in bliss as he chewed his portion.

— Right? Just the best for my baby.

— What? —he laughed— How come I'm your baby when I'm older than you?

— Shush it, silly, you are my baby.

He just laughed at her goofiness again. Then he waited, relying on his hero instincts, calculating the best time for a swift attack, and stole a spoonful of her own pasta, and stuffed it right into his mouth.

— Hey, that was mine!

He snorted.

•••

The dishes were washed and she sat at a small table on the balcony. She was surrounded by plants and had a clear view of the city lights. It was as peaceful as the busy metropolis could be. In moments like this, she wished the days off were everlasting.

Tamaki arrived shortly, holding two glass cups of the boba tea he had made earlier. He hadn't even fully entered the balcony when a fit of giggles bubbled out of his mouth.

— What is it? —she raised a brow.

Her boyfriend didn't answer. Instead, he put both glasses on the table and left the room, only to return with a napkin, which he used to wipe away some remnants of sauce from her lips.

— There, all better. —he found it very endearing, how her cheeks lit up with color and her eyes averted his gaze, visibly embarrassed. Even the way she tried to play it off was adorable, his silly girl.

— Oh, clumsy me... Haha...

— Even if you're clumsy, I'll always be by your side to clean up your little messes —Tamaki smiled softly, crouched in front of her—. It's the least I can do for you.

She hid her face behind her hands, voice tight in a whine— But I don't want you cleaning my messes though? I'm not a kid!

She had always had an ability to fluster him with sincere compliments and cheesy remarks. One of her favorite things to say was that her job was to show him how loved he was, and if it had to be done by flustering him, then the better. His job, on the other hand, on his own words, was to make her feel safe, so safe that not even her own demons could do her any harm. But it was nice to turn the tables from time to time.

Tamaki pryed her hands out, placing them on her chest— This is where I want your hands to be. It's just me here, so don't hide. Besides —he smiled—, you may not be a kid, but you're still my baby.

— Tamaki! That's my line!

He laughed.

[lunarobyn22]

@cloudninetonine IT’S DONE! I love how the fic turned out, thank you for letting me write this! Here’s the link, but I’ll also put it in my bio. I love your work and I can’t wait to see where you go with it!

[raccoonsrummagerostrum]

Comforting Chris Redfield After a Mission

Chris Redfield x GN! Reader

Word count: 1075

Warnings: reverse comfort, shower, mentions of injury, infection, and bugs. Cuddles, food, mentions of first aid, mention of minor character death, angst, slight ptsd for Chris

Summary: Whenever Chris comes home after a mission he has a checklist that the two of you follow

A/N: I’m so excited to start posting about Chris! I am so excited for Death Island!

You and Chris always had certain rituals for when he would leave for, and return from missions. When he left it was all about you. He would spend the few days before leaving taking you out on dates, pampering you, and running errands. As well he would pick up chores and odd jobs around the house in preparation for you taking over all of it when he was gone. He didn't always have prior warning to when he would be leaving, but he always spent whatever warning time he did have with you. When he returned, that time was for him.

The transition back to civilian life was always hard for him, it had been his entire career. Even back when he was in the air force coming back home was often more stressful than active service, but you made it easier. Much easier. Whenever possible, Chris would call you ahead of time to let you know that he was on his way. Sometimes you had days notice, other times you had just a few hours. However much time you had you always made sure that the house was clean, and usually had a meal prepared. To be honest Chris didn't really care either way about the state of the house, or the presence of a home cooked meal, but he did appreciate it greatly. It helped to free up space in his mind so that he could focus on comfort.

Once Chris was in the door you had a checklist. This was extremely important to help him with the transition. For him it was like a reset for his body and mind. That checklist went as thus:

1. A hug. Extremely important. He needed to know that you were there, that this was real, and that he was back home.

2. Food. If there is one state in which Chris can not function properly, it's hunger. Even though cold, wet, and injured he could still push through and focus on the task at hand, but if he was hungry then nothing else was going to happen until he got some food. Sometimes he would have had something on the way, but if not then you always had something ready. Eating with you also helped him ease back into a domestic mindset.

3. Shower. More than likely he had gone the entire mission without a proper scrub. There might have been running water and a bar of soap, but he had more than likely been far from the creature comforts of a hot shower, with a messaging nozzle, and moisturizing body wash with a good scrub from a luffa.

4. Body check. More often than not, you would join him in the shower for the body check, where you would meticulously search his entire body for anything. Cuts, scrapes, bruises, injuries, ticks, mites, lice, and or infections. Anything that needed to be addressed. Usually he would have been looked over by some kind of medic before he came home, so any major issues would have already been taken care of. But this was much more thorough. You were the only person he would ever let get this close. And the fact that you trailed little kisses around his body didn't hurt.

5. First aid. You had learned some first aid specifically for this. You learned to treat all sorts of minor issues. Dressing and redressing wounds, removing ticks and mites, treating infections, and you would dutifully care for any issue that arose from the body check.

6. Cuddles. It didn't matter if he came home in the middle of the day, or the middle of the night, this man is gonna need cuddles. Curl up on the couch or in bed, it doesn't matter. Depending on how the mission went and how Chris was feeling the cuddle position would change. If he was feeling more insecure and scared he would be the big spoon and hold you close, protecting you. If he was feeling more sad, and helpless he would lay on top of you, allowing you to rub his back and play with his hair. Cuddling was usually done in silence as he preferred to focus his attention on you and your breathing, but he wouldn't complain if you wanted to play some music or watch TV. The more physical contact the better.

7. Don't talk about work. During the transition back into civilian life, Chris would be very sensitive. He would be very quiet, hypervigilant, and skittish. It wasn't a good idea to talk about his mission during this time. So you two had agreed that you would wait one full day before talking about it. And you two had agreed that one full day was one wake up to the next. Which sometimes resulted in more than 24 hours before talking about his mission, but that was fine with the both of you. Even after one full day you never pressured him to talk if he didn't want to

8. Talk about work. This last step was not part of the original list. In Fact when the two of you first started doing this he hated talking about work. He would avoid talking about it at all cost, and even when he did he only gave sparse details. But as Chris has gotten older he's found that talking about work can actually be really cathartic. He now finds it important to talk to you about what happened during his time away. The good and the bad. He's gotten more emotional over the years as well. At first he tried to stop it, but you let him know that it's ok to be upset and angry, it's ok for him to cry and to shake. As he talks, you're there to guide him through his emotions, and then to bring him back to reality when he's done.

With the checklist complete you still keep a close eye on him for the next few days. He might have injuries that need to be treated, and emotional scars that need attention. You're always there helping him along his way. Eventually he settles back into normal life, and the two of you cohabitate once again.

This checklist has helped not just him but you as well many, many times. Especially after Jill's supposed death, her return, and Piers' death. But the list was put to the ultimate test after Chris returned from Romania.

To be continued…

[everythingwasnormalhere]

weirdly, one of my favorite things about my chronic pain hc is how kenny will never get better

there is no magic cure

there is no way he can heal

the closest thing to a remedy would be painkillers, nothing permanent

there is not a moment in which it just, poof, goes away

he will just get progressively worse and worse, no way to fix it

he will never get better

the only thing he can do is learn how to cope with it, find his own strategies and get through life at his own pace

and his friends will obviously feel helpless - who wouldn't? but they'll have to get used to it, and help kenny be as comfortable as he can

and i think that's beautiful

[gliyerabaa]

🚨🚨 EMERGENCY COMMISSIONS🚨🚨

A couple weeks ago, I got covid, and I missed nearly an entire week of work. I got paid this last friday but since I missed a lot of work due to illness, the paycheck was just barely enough to cover rent.

I have less than 20 dollars to last me the next two weeks. between gas, laundry, and food, there's no way I'll make it on my own.

commissions are still open but I am now moving to a name-your-price format. For any amount you want, I'll write a ficlet of at least 500 words

primarily wicked/gelphie focus but I am open to other fandoms as well

please share and signal boost.

my goal right now is at least $5 USD so I can pay for two loads of laundry

[ssa-atlas-alvez]

Hi Atlas :0 i have new request but for BAU team with teen!werewolf!reader?

Hotch & Rossi are the only ones to know about reader being a werewolf when he is put on the team bc government wanted to keep him under the eye and recruited him in the end, his records are sealed so Penny doesn't snoop around the important stuff lol. And Rossi being his handler and the main person to see after the boy, to do a report to Hotch about his performance etc. And the reader mostly being there for scent search ( like the reader has a sharp nose for scents and us able to distinguish them with ease even if old and somewhat able to even if masked under fresher scents or added scents) but he's in general a lot faster with more stamina and energy to burn unlike humans .

So the team gets to know the reader's so called secret by seeing him action just zooming past them to catch up with a escaping Unsub in a mountain-like scenery and they're having a hard time catching up to them bc Rossi gave him the go ahead bc the Unsub would otherwise be able to escape in-between the trees and rocks.

Just imagine reader being big enough in his werewolf form(doesn't matter if 4- or 2-legged form to me (as in folklore or twilight type lol) ) that he can just plop all his weight down on the Unsub and pin them to the ground. Possibly disarm them by grabbing the thing in their hands or biting their arms/wrists.

How would the team react? Would they have had some suspicions on the topic?

Sorry the request's a bit long again lmao. Please if the request is too much, your requests are closed or you just don't feel like it, don't feel pressured to do it! Stay hydrated, have a nice day and keep your head up! uwu

Okay, so I wasn't going to write this originally because I wasn't sure how to, but then I started thinking about it and ideas kind of just came to me aha. I hope you like it, I'm posting it now because I just finished writing it and I'm giggling and I just wanted to post it because I think it's funny, but not like a funny funny like a stupid funny if that makes sense?

Warnings: Bullet wound, blood, make shift first aid

Word count: 1385

“A handler?” You asked in disbelief, you scoff, shaking your head at the director with a laugh, “I don’t fucking think so, I’m not a dog-”

“We need someone to monitor you who’s on the team.” He said, pausing before continuing, “Like a mentor,”

“Then call it a mentor. Not a fucking handler,”

“Could you give us a minute?” Rossi asked, speaking for the first time. Hotch, Strauss, and the Director look at each other for a minute before leaving the room. 

“The prick may as well ask me to roll over,” You muttered bitterly, wiping the frustrated tear that had made its way down your cheek.

“Look, kid, all I’m going to be doing is making sure you’re settling in okay,” Rossi said with a shrug, “I don’t care about what else they’re saying. I’m only concerned about if you’re okay.”

That’s how you were introduced to one: the fact that you would be working with the BAU, and two: that you’d have a ‘handler’ constantly monitoring you. 

When you met the team, an hour or so later, they noticed that you seemed to be full of energy and, despite only having met Rossi an hour ago, seemed to be pretty loyal to him already. Over the next coming months, your secret (as promised) was kept between you, Rossi, and Hotch. All the team knew was that you ‘had good tracking skills’ and that’s why you were recruited. You knew the truth was going to come out eventually, but you didn’t think you would ever be prepared. 

There wasn’t much difference with this case then the others, an unsub who was a horrible person, lashed out at people, the usual. He even had a lair surrounded by woods. When you found him and the team confronted him, he ran (also not unusual) and he was fast (unusual), really fast (definitely unusual). 

You stare at Rossi until he nods, giving you approval. You pelt your legs fast after the unsub, even if you did lose him, you’d be able to find him quickly. He stunk of the familiar scent of blood, mixed with cigarettes, and Jack Daniels. You let yourself shift as you run, the familiar feeling of your bones resetting subtly as you did so - more energy and strength seeping through your body as you changed, clothes tearing as your body transformed. Soon enough, you’re ready to drop down on all fours, a growl crawling up your throat you do. It doesn’t take you long to catch up with him, maybe thirty seconds. When you do, you tackle him to the ground, keeping him pinned with a heavy paw, you lift your head into the air, howling loudly to signal to Rossi that he’s been detained.

The team stared at you in absolute shock when you walked back over to them, now dressed in the spare clothes Hotch and Rossi always kept close by (as a just in case). 

“What the fuck-” Derek’s the first to speak.

“It’s sort of a long story?” You reply, unsure. 

“There’s been numerous sightings of werewolf individuals throughout history, not to mention clinical lycanthropy,” Spencer chimes in.

“So you’re a-?”

“Say it,” You say dramatically, you hear Rossi and Hotch sigh deeply, already knowing where this was going. “Say it. Out loud.”

Derek and Emily share a confused look. “Werewolf.” Hotch mumbled, hoping to get this whole thing over with.

You turn around dramatically, “Are you afraid?”

“No.” You grin, you had never heard Hotch sound so done with you in your life. This was brilliant. 

“This is the face of a killer, Bella.” You say, disappointed when none of them get your reference. “Really? None of you? JJ, come on, you know what Cullen means, surely you get it?”

“Sorry, I’ve never actually seen Twilight,”

“Ugh,” You groaned, “Penelope would get it, you all need to be more like Penelope and laugh at my jokes,”

“No need to bite back so hard, kid,” Derek grins. 

“If this becomes a frequent thing, I might actually kill you.” You state. 

“You’re all bark and no bite,” A growl sounds through your throat and your eyes flash. Derek puts his hands up in surrender, “Alright, alright, no more jokes. Can you eat chocolate though? Serious question. Rossi, why’s he looking at me like that? Rossi, Rossi-!” Derek yelped as you tackled him to the ground.

“Yes I can eat chocolate, it makes me feel sick though.” You answer, you hadn’t shifted, you just wanted to scare him a little. “Nice yelp though, sounded like a little girl.”

“I did not!”

“Yeah, you did,” Emily answered with a snort. 

Now, months later, you stand in a warehouse, locating the unsub with Rossi whilst you wait for backup. “He’s definitely here,” You mumble, “Jesus, he eats a lot of fast food,” Rossi gives a small snort, “I think he’s in here,” You say, pointing at the room just ahead of you. Rossi nods, raising his gun slightly as he begins to enter the room, you’re close behind.

You watch in horror as the gun cocks into place, you let yourself start to shift - knowing that you wouldn’t be able to make it in time in human form. You weren’t going to let them get hurt. You were nothing if not loyal. Rossi waits for the bullet. He knew it was going to happen eventually, it was inevitable in this line of work. But the bullet doesn’t come, instead, the crack of the gun in heard, as well as the sound of impact. Then nothing. And then the small whine comes. It’s pathetic and sounds like a wounded animal. A wounded animal. It clicks and Rossi looks around, spotting the form of a wolf, he watches as the fur shifts, slowly turning to skin in order to preserve your energy. 

Another shot sounds and the unsub drops down dead. Rossi sends a brief nod of thanks to Morgan as he rushes over to you, shrugging off his windbreaker to place over you. Morgan joins him, peering over you, eyes widening when he sees the bullet wound. He reaches for the radio, “We need a-” Rossi puts his hand up and Derek stops.

“What do you need us to do?” Rossi asked, turning back to you.

“Rossi, he needs an ambulance,”

You shook your head, “My body will heal, I just need to get it out,” Rossi nodded as you lifted your head, the bullet wasn’t too far in. You could probably just reach in and grab it, you’re body would flush out any infection or bacteria that was in the wound and you’d be as good as new within a day or two. Your fingers hovered above the bullet wound and you let your head drop back to the floor. You take a deep breath before you plunge the fingers into the wound, feeling for the bullet. Your back arches and you ground your teeth, you clench the bullet with your finger tips and force yourself to take a deep breath before you pass out or something. And then, when you’ve got a good grip, you yank it out. And fuck it hurts. You groan loudly through your teeth, throwing the bullet to the floor.

“You okay?” Derek asked, you huff a small laugh as you nod.

“Just peachy,” You mumble. “I’ll be fine. The outside of the wound will close within a few hours anyway,”

“Won’t you bleed out?”

“Should be fine,” You said with a shrug, “This is hardly the first time I’ve been shot,” And with that, you force yourself back on your feet, clutching a hand to the wound as you walk.

When you’re back on the jet, now with a gauze over your wound, you lay slowly on the couch. “I know what will help,” You say, lifting your head up slightly, “I’m going to make you all watch Twilight. You need to get my jokes - they’re like over half of my humour and none of that can be appreciated if you haven’t seen it.”

“Is it any good?” Emily asked, you shook your head.

“Nope, it’s absolute horse crap,”

“Then why make us watch it?”

“Because you all need to suffer to get my humour,” You said, before adding, “And I’m injured so you can’t say no,”

[the-fab-fox]

Hey guys! So thank you all so much for your continued support through reblogs.

I still very much need this money. I'm late on my car note and rent is coming up again and I still owe for the money I borrowed for this months rent.

If you can help, any amount helps because it adds up. Even if all you can do is 1 to 5 dollars, it'll still help. If you can't help or just don't want to, that's totally valid. It's your money after all. I can't fault you for that. Especially in this economy.

So I ask humbly that if you can't donate, please please consider reblogging and sharing with those you think can and won't mind helping.

Thank you from the bottom of my heart. 💜

[fantasyfictionfables]

In honor of butchering my thumb while cutting a watermelon open, I thought I might write a OneShot and reference the watermelon crushing tighs. 😅

Some real life dialogue and interactions with my husband flow into the writing process. Here a peek into the first draft of the beginning:

Hissing she put the bloodletting knife down, looking at the imprint it had left behind in her thumb. It took a while for the blood to rise to the surface, but she knew it would.

Sighing she held the finger under cold running water, before hurrying to the bathroom Gale seemed to currently be occupying.

She appraised his wet naked glory standing in the tub, but did not waste too much time on it; instead searching for a towel to press it against the wound while searching for a bandage.

"I was cutting the watermelon and cut my thumb instead", she explained, having caught his curious looks in the mirror.

"Hold it under cold water", he advised, getting an amused huff in reply.

"Already did so, now I´m searching for the bandages."

"Did you use a bread knife?" His hint at her misuse of knives made her chuckle. He knew her too well. A look into the mirror told her that he was drying his body with a white towel. She was silently rooting for the pearls of water running down his chest hair, hoping he would miss some so she could inspect them closer once she was done attending her wound.

"No", she paused before clarifying, "it was a bloodletting knife".

The Paladin was still looking through the cabinet near the sink, when she felt his half-covered body behind her; lips caressing her ear.

"Maybe you should have crushed it with your thighs instead."

He was warm, his broad chest nestling against her back. Stiffling a moan she leaned back against him, feeling his smile at the shell of her ear.

A mage hand presented her with the bandages she had been looking for, making her aware of Gale´s pleasant distraction. "Let me help you."

Carefully taking Athena´´s hand in his, he removed the towel which she had been pressing against the cut.

"Not too deep",the wizard made his verdict known; his wife silently observing him.

Caring for the finger, he stole glances at her face; catching her attempts of starring prevention directed at his towel-clad hips.

"Watermelon... I did not know a watermelon was sitting in our kitchen."

His beloved´s pink lips parted in a smile, allowing white teeth to make an appearance. She had never liked them, claiming the one unruly tooth made her look ridiculous, but he never quite understood her meaning. The Archmage found it endearing and relished in every smile she gifted him openly.

"Zylkas brought it over."

Zylkas - the young Half-Elf who lived around the corner - had taken a liking to his wife. He could not blame the young fellow, and he knew he posed no threat, yet he did not know whether to be amused or annoyed. Despite knowing that he meant no disrespect, his admiration for Athena had lead to some inconveniences. It was not the first time he had made an appearance in the morning, interrupting them during private pursuits.

Notes

I wrote about Athena instead of Tav'ana, because it seemed more fitting. Tav'ana is more attuned to knives of every sort. ^^

[lilypadlys]

Mushy May Day Four - First Aid

Ship: Aether/Omega, Aether/Everyone

Notes: Aether makes a clumsy mistake and beats himself up for it but Omega and his pack are there to help. Prompt list by @forlorn-crows. See prompt list here

Word Count: 527

Read on AO3 or below the cut

Aether is thorough and careful. He’s as clumsy as the sky is green. He rarely gets sick and simply never gets hurt, especially not for stupid reasons. Not reasons like forgetting to wear an oven mitt when taking a tray of cookies out of the oven. So why is he currently sitting in the infirmary, not at his desk, but on a bed for patients while Omega applies burn cream to his hand?

“Hurts?”

“Hmm?”

“You’re grimacing. Want me to give you a bit more quintessence?”

“Oh. No, it's fine.” Aether forces a smile.

Omega is unconvinced. “What’s up Aeth? This is more than just a burnt hand.” Aether starts to shrug but Omega’s unimpressed look makes him begrudgingly admit the truth. He rubs his face with his uninjured hand.

“I feel stupid.”

“Why? Accidents happen.”

“Not to me though. I usually never get hurt.”

“Well I hate to break it to you but even you’re not bulletproof.” Omega gently teases. “It’s okay though. Just a minor burn. Nothing too serious. The cream is just to help the skin heal quicker.”

Aether shakes his head. “It’s not that. I feel like I can’t get hurt. Not that it's impossible, just that if I do it means I'm doing something wrong…I don’t know…”

“You feel like if you get hurt you aren’t fit to protect your pack?”

“Yeah…I mean…yeah?”

“I know what it’s like to be a pack leader too, Aeth. It’s a lot of pressure and yeah sometimes it feels like you aren’t good enough. That you can’t always protect those you love…” He trails off and it’s clear who he’s remembering. Still he continues, “But I don’t know anyone more qualified than you. I’ve seen how fiercely to care about your pack and Papa. You’re allowed to make mistakes, you know. You’ve got your mates to fall back on when you need them.”

Aether nods looking down. “Yeah.” He presses his cheek to Omega’s chest. “Thanks.”

Omega ruffles his hair.

Once Omega finishes bandaging his hand, Aether returns to the den to find his pack waiting. The offending cookies are plated and cooling on the counter.

“Your hand doing okay?” Sunshine asks.

“Yeah, just a silly burn.”

Dew comes over and gently takes his hand before giving it a gentle kiss. “Better?”

Aether smiles. “Lots.”

“Thank you for making cookies!” Phantom chimes.

“I’ll handle dinner tonight so you can give your hand a rest.” Swiss offers.

“I’ve got some aloe if you need it. It’s great for burns.” Mountain offers.

Aurora and Rain offer to take over laundry duty from Aether so he can rest.

Cirrus and Cumulus beckon from the couch.

“Some sit and take a load off.” Cumulus calls.

Aether can’t help but feel a little relieved. “Thanks guys.”

As he settles on the couch between Cirrus and Cumulus, the cookies are brought over and one thrust into his good hand.

“These had better taste good considering I suffered for them.” He sighs dramatically before taking a bite.

“Well I think they taste amazing.” Cirrus huffs. “You always make the best cookies.” Then a little quieter, “Thank you for always giving us your best. We all love you.”

[trektasticzine]

BIG ANNOUNCEMENT

Trektastic Zine is holding a fundraiser for Palestine. 🇵🇸

We did say we had an announcement to make and here it is!

First of all, we are aware that this is a divisive topic amongst people and that we may well receive backlash for this, however we have decided to stand by our principles. No human beings deserve to live under violent occupation (or, to be frank, genocide). We also feel it is right to utilise a platform like this project to make a difference if we can.

What's happening?

We have created some designs which show solidarity for Palestine and which (subtly - we don't want to sideline Palestine as the main focus) incorporate Star Trek themes, in order to link this cause to the theme of our zine. We will be selling these designs as badges and stickers - which we are in the process of ordering an initial small batch of. We will restock if they sell successfully.

Where is the money going?

Any and all profits we make from these products will be donated directly to Medical Aid for Palestinians (MAP), which works to provide immediate medical care to Palestinians suffering under occupation, in Gaza and the West Bank as well as in Palestinian refugee camps in Lebanon.

https://www.map.org.uk/

PLEASE SHARE 🔄

We can make this fundraiser successful if we are able to make a profit on these items (eg. make back more money than we've spent). Given the success of the zine, we're hopeful, but we need your help! The more awareness is brought to this project, the greater its chance of success and the chance to make a difference, so please share this post!

Stay tuned for updates on this project!

[sweetrevxnge]

Ghosts In The Snow

Chapter Four

Pairing: Vampire!Kylo Ren x Reader AU

Summary: Six long years had passed under the reign of the First Order. The bitter winters grew longer, and as they did, hope faded from the hearts of the citizens of Hosnian Prime. As a lieutenant in the Resistance cavalry, it was your duty to nurture that ember of hope. After a mission takes an unexpected turn, you are taken prisoner by a commander in the First Order, a mysterious man with an insatiable appetite—for violence, power, and you. In the coming days, you must keep the spark of your own hope alive from the dark confines of the Commander's castle.

Warnings: sexual content, violence, blood kink, gore, mentions/descriptions of injury and death

*concurrently being published on AO3 and Wattpad as well!

Chapter I

Chapter II

Chapter III

Spotify Playlist

Word count: 3.3k

Chapter-specific CW: excessive drinking, vomiting

A/N: "oh he's kinda cute... HE'S A MURDERER! but he's kinda cute..." -y/n

───────── ❅ 🦇 ❅ ─────────

“You’ve barely touched your food, dear.” Commander Ren’s low voice pulled you from your trance as you poked at the lamb shank on your plate. A fitting entrée for tonight.

“I haven’t much of an appetite,” you muttered, setting the silver fork down beside your dish. You were almost catatonic, and despite your contempt for him, you felt betrayed. It was for that reason that you hadn’t so much as looked in his direction since sitting down, instead choosing to study the other guests in the dining hall—including the stormtroopers stationed at every exit. It was an impossible task—you knew that—but you’d sooner die trying than comply with this farce of a treaty.

A low laugh rumbled in Ren’s chest. “I have no stomach for lamb either; it’s far too tender for my liking. Perhaps you would prefer venison? Or roasted vegetables?”

“No, thank you. Just wine will do,” you said as you tipped your cup back and gulped down the remaining liquid. You imagined you would need many more if you were going to endure this evening.

“If you insist.” He pushed his chair back and lifted his hand, summoning one of the servants. A boy with short, tawny hair rushed over, his hands clasped behind his back.

“Yes sir?” he asked meekly, his eyes darting between yours and the Commander’s. Although he stood with his shoulders back and chin high, his age was obvious from the fat in his face and the pitch of his voice. Anger boiled beneath your skin.

“Fetch more wine for my bride,” Ren instructed, nodding at you as he spoke. “And for me, as well.”

“Of course, sir.” The boy’s fear rolled off of him as he turned on his heels and disappeared into what you assumed was the kitchens.

You narrowed your eyes. “Why am I not surprised that the First Order uses children as servants?”

“Only those whose families owe us a debt. No different from the New Republic’s operations,” he said calmly, tapping the empty cup in his hand.

You shook your head slightly and turned back to your plate. “That’s hardly justification for continuing to do so.”

His eyes followed you as you watched the rest of the guests dine. Everyone seemed to be enjoying themselves, either lost in conversation or filling their plates with the assortment of meats, cheeses, and fruits set out on the table—all but one. Across from you sat a red-haired man, with hollow cheeks and a scowl twisting his features. Given his proximity to the Supreme Leader, you assumed he was another commanding officer.

Beside him was a woman, but unlike the other ladies in the hall dressed in elaborate gowns, she was wearing the same regalia as the men. You furrowed your brows. Was she…? No, she couldn’t be.

Ren leaned in close to your ear, his cold lips brushing your skin. “Captain Phasma of Parnassos, to answer your question.”

His breath sent a shiver down your spine. “Get out of my head,” you snapped, your knuckles white around the body of the cup in your hand.

“How else am I to make conversation with you?”

You scoffed, redirecting your attention to the servant returning with a pitcher of wine in either hand. It was clear by his unsteady footing that the weight of both of them was nearly too much for his small arms.

As he approached the table, you reached for one of the decanters to save his shaking arms. "Thank you," you said, mustering up a smile. Gods knew the poor boy needed some kindness.

“No need, my lady,” he replied quietly, pouring the rich liquid into your cup before reaching for the other pitcher. “Commander…”

Ren presented his empty cup and nodded for the boy to fill it. He obeyed, pouring the dark wine with trembling hands. For such an ordinary exchange, the boy was tense, utterly frightened. Not that you could necessarily blame him. 

Once it was full, he set the pitcher down between your plates and quickly returned to his post along the wall. In the hopes of quickening the evening, you finished the cup in a few sips, reaching for the pitcher beside your plate.

A gloved hand seizing your wrist stopped you before you could. “Careful, dear. You might find that mine is a bit too strong for your taste.”

Part of you wanted to try his wine out of defiance, but the rational part of you heeded his warning. With an empty stomach, your wine would be more than enough as it was. You pulled your hand free and reached for the other pitcher. As you poured it, you allowed yourself to feel everything—the anger, the disappointment. How Leia had seemed to so easily forget you. But beneath it all, there was still the ember of hope, buried under the weight of your emotions. It needed to be protected, locked away in the recesses of your mind until you could ignite it once more—until you were free. Once the cup was full, you returned it to its locked box, stowing it away for another time.

“You can’t ignore me forever, you know,” Ren said, taking a sip from his cup.

“I can try,” you countered, doing the same.

He exhaled softly. “I’m sure you will.”

Over the rim of your cup, you could see the red-haired man looking at you, his green eyes locked onto you. You wondered how long he had been watching.

Covering your mouth with your napkin, you asked, “Who is that man next to the captain?”

“That would be General Armitage Hux of Arkanis.”

You hummed. It wasn’t difficult to imagine such a seemingly pompous general coming from a place like Arkanis. “Does he always look so sour?”

Ren scoffed. “Usually less so. He’s been openly displeased about our arrangement.”

“Perhaps he and I have more in common than I realized,” you murmured.

“I think you’d find yourself more outraged with his proposition—gods know the Supreme Leader was,” he said with a light laugh, running a hand through his dark hair.

You cocked an eyebrow. “Is that so?”

He mimicked you, raising his eyebrow in surprise. “Unless you would prefer to be wed to a bastard son.”

“I hardly see how that could be any worse.”

A hand resting on your shoulder immediately pulled you from the conversation. You recoiled, half-expecting it to be General Hux, slinking across the room while you were distracted. You couldn’t have been more wrong.

“My sweeting, it is so lovely to finally meet you,” Supreme Leader Snoke said with an unnerving smile. His touch was cold—even through the fabric of your dress. It felt unnatural, as if he had been trapped in a winter storm for a week.

“Supreme Leader,” you replied, forcing down the bitter taste in your mouth. “What a pleasure.”

It had been over six years since he had murdered Chancellor Villecham, but you wouldn’t know it by looking at him. He was untouched by time—not that he was youthful by any means. Despite his age, there was no silver in his hair or deep creases in his face. Perhaps the wolf skin cloak over his shoulders served as his own personal fountain of youth.

Snoke let out a hoarse laugh, one seemingly loud enough to rattle the crystal chandeliers above. “The pleasure is mine. I take it you’ve found your new chambers more accommodating than your last?”

Rage streaked your vision. There wasn’t a doubt in your mind that he was trying to provoke you—as if you needed reminding that you were nothing more than a bargaining piece to the First Order.

“Yes, thank you for asking,” you replied, bowing your head slightly. “Though I must admit, I had grown rather fond of the rats.”

Snoke let out a short, unamused chuckle. “Such misunderstood creatures, they are.” His gray eyes narrowed as he spoke. He quickly shifted his attention to the man beside you, a wall of ice now standing between you. “My boy… I have faith that you will treat our guest well.” He squeezed Ren’s shoulder tightly, threateningly. 

“Of course, Supreme Leader,” he said, the usual color in his voice absent.

“Good. I would hate to have to marry her to Armitage, should you disappoint.”

Ren’s eyes flashed with something akin to envy. “That won’t be necessary.”

Snoke grinned. “I should hope not.”

The air felt thick, as if the room had filled with smoke. You shifted in your seat as the two men stared at each other, locked in silence. Snoke lingered for a moment longer before finally releasing his grip on Ren’s shoulder.

“Please, do enjoy the celebration. The wedding will be held in a fortnight. I had hoped for it to be sooner, but we must allow ample time for our guests to arrive.”

His words fell on you like stones. It wasn’t enough time. A fortnight was hardly enough time to finalize battle strategies—let alone to devise an escape. The flame in your heart waned.

With that, the Supreme Leader crossed to the other side of the table to greet the other guests, starting with Captain Phasma of Parnassos.

Silence stretched between you and Ren, your minds occupied with different concerns. Habitually, you finished your wine and pushed the empty chalice away. “How long should I expect this evening to last?”

“Eager to leave, are we?” Ren teased, taking the liberty of refilling your cup. “It might be wise to eat something. Celebrations like these have a tendency to be drawn out.”

The wine was beginning to take effect, making your skin warm and your mind hazy. Against your better judgment, you continued, draining each cup in a matter of minutes. Truthfully, it was a relief—allowing you to drift to a place far from here, to a place by the sea. A cobblestone home perched on the cliffside, surrounded by vines like veins around a heart. A place that always had a fire in its hearth and a stew simmering above it.

A warm tear hitting your hand pulled you from your reverie. You quickly blinked them away, not wanting anyone to see your emotion—least of all Commander Ren. Empathy wasn’t exactly his strongest virtue.

The night passed in a blur of drinks, hollow introductions, and avoiding your betrothed. It was nearly midnight when you finally staggered back to your chambers, barely lucid. Against your wishes, Ren had accompanied you, ensuring that his prized bride reached her chambers unscathed.

You fumbled with the doorknob for a moment, all too aware of his lingering presence. You continued to ignore him until a sobering realization fell over you.

“Does the Supreme Leader expect you to bed me?” you asked, frowning. The wine suddenly felt heavy in your stomach.

“No,” he said, a flash of humanity in his dark eyes. “Not yet, at least.”

“Oh.” Heat rose to your face. Of course he wouldn’t bed you tonight. If that were the case, the two of you would have been wed during the feast.

“Besides, I don’t intend to take you in this state,” he added, stepping closer. His fingers brushed your cheek as he pushed back a piece of hair that had fallen from your updo. You shivered at the sensation.

“This,” you hissed, stumbling backward until you collided with the doors, “is the only state that would make it tolerable.”

An amused smile played on his lips. “We’ll see.”

Dawn cracked the sky early the next morning, a fateful sign of the long winter ahead. As much as you longed to relish the fleeting sunlight, you were damned to spend the day with a pail in your arms and a cold rag on your neck.

“Are you feeling better at all, my lady?” Rey asked, wringing out a washcloth after soaking it in cool water.

“If only I were. I can’t imagine that there’s anything left to expel,” you said with a shudder, pulling your head from the basin.

Rey blotted your forehead with the cloth, her touch as light as the feather pillows beneath you. She had been silent for most of the morning, which you didn’t necessarily mind. There was an unspoken understanding as to why you were so ill this particular morning.

Hours had passed like this; with her encouraging you to take sips of water and you immediately spitting it up. At this point, it was difficult to tell if the culprit was the constant flow of wine or the extended time you had spent with Commander Ren. Perhaps a bit of both.

After what felt like an eternity, your stomach had settled enough to hold down the water Rey was offering. Once you were able to finish a roll of bread and a cup of broth, she returned to her quarters, allowing you to sleep away the rest of the aches.

When you finally woke, cool moonlight was spilling through the windows, casting shadows on the floor. The fire burning in your hearth had been reduced to a pile of embers and ash, but despite the cool air in the room, sweat coated your skin.

The night terrors that had plagued your sleep in the dungeons were relentless, managing to wake you even after a night of drinking and a day of illness. Every night was the same dream, the memory of the night in the forest. Without failure, the terror always ended with Commander Ren’s mask inches away from your face, close enough to show your reflection in the silver ridges around his eyes. The sight of you, bloodied and bruised, was always enough to wake you from the dream.

Tonight was no different, only this nightmare had a different ending. Instead of your armor, you wore the gown from the feast. Standing before the Commander, you looked at him not with horror, but with admiration. His hands were firm on your waist, holding you tight against him. You were unrecognizable in the reflection of his mask—with ruby lips and dark eyes. Piled around you were the bodies of Resistance soldiers—your soldiers—blood spilling from their ripped throats, staining the snow beneath.

Slowly, you pushed his visor up, but before you could see the man behind it, you jolted awake.

Immediately, you kicked the covers off and ran to the chamber pot, coughing and heaving in an attempt to settle your stomach. Nothing came from it, except possibly waking every occupant of the castle. Before returning to your bed, you used the washcloth and water basin that Rey had left behind to blot your face and neck, hoping to cool the heat under your skin.

You weren’t sure how much time had passed as you stared at the canopy above you, trying to erase the image of the dream from your memory—a task proving to be impossible. With each minute that passed, your breath felt more strained, as if the walls of your chambers were shrinking, suffocating you. It was beginning to feel like you had traded one cage for another.

The wedding was at the forefront of your mind, and you knew that every minute you spent laying awake was precious time slipping away. Despite Ren’s orders to stay in your chambers, you left the warmth of your bed, determined to familiarize yourself with the castle. Even if you couldn’t do it tonight, knowing the layout would benefit you when you did.

Hanging in the wardrobe was a long, dark cloak—perfect for concealing your ivory nightgown from the world. You pulled the hood over your head and carefully cracked the door open, scanning the hallway before stepping out into the unknown.

Flickering candles lined the corridor, but only a few were still burning. No one tends the candles past midnight, you noted, creeping towards the familiar spiraling staircase. As you reached the threshold, you peeked into the main chamber, expecting to find guards posted by every door. To your surprise, the room was empty—other than the portraits of the Supreme Leader gracing the walls. But you were no fool. The First Order was more concerned with outside threats; it only made sense that their guards would protect the exterior of the castle. Until you could be more certain of a safe exit, you would only roam the upper halls.

The corridor leading to your chambers seemed to stretch endlessly, leaving much to be explored. You followed the path, passing by quiet rooms and elegant artwork, committing every detail to memory. The cloak fluttered at your ankles as you crept around, feeling like a marauder trespassing on the grounds. If only you were.

The glow of candlelight dwindled the further you ventured, a sign that you had explored enough for one night. With no help from the drawn curtains, you were blind in the darkness. The threat of being caught outside of your chambers loomed over you as you turned to walk back the way you came, eager to return to the safety of your room. After a few steps, you discovered that the carpet beneath you was entirely different. You froze, searching along the walls for familiar fixtures, but found none. Panic began to swell in your chest at the realization that you were lost.

You tried to retrace your steps—understand how you had managed to get yourself to where you were now, but to no avail. Your breath became difficult—as if your ribs were tightening around your lungs. How could you have been so stupid? What had possessed you to step foot outside your room? Forfeiting the luxury of a proper bed for what—the possibility of finding an escape route?

Adrenaline burned your veins like magma as you swiveled on your heels, clutching your cloak tight around your chest to run. The solid frame of a man standing behind you quickly put an end to your efforts. An involuntary gasp escaped your lips as you collided with his chest.

“Lost, are we?”

Your heart plummeted through your chest. You didn’t need to look up to know exactly who had found you. In a moment of pure instinct, you answered with a half-lie. “I couldn’t sleep. I was only trying to find a bit of fresh air.”

Commander Ren chuckled as he gently pushed the hood of your cloak back. The material shifted on your shoulders, revealing your nightgown beneath. Even under the veil of darkness, you felt exposed.

“Were the windows in your chambers insufficient?” he asked, moving his hand to tip your chin up.

“Yes,” you said, reluctantly meeting his gaze. His eyes were an abyss, drinking you in as you stood there. He looked ethereal, with messy, black curls and a loose sleep shirt to match. As your eyes roamed his figure, you were reminded of the night terror that had incited this predicament.

At that, he released your chin and offered you his hand. “Perhaps you would prefer to go for a stroll outside, then?”

Outside? You couldn’t recall how long it had been since you had even been outside—since you had felt the crisp winter air kiss your skin or listened to the song of cicadas in the dead of night. As enticing as his offer was, you hesitated. Was this another trick? Was he luring you outside of the castle walls to lock you out as punishment for disobeying his orders?

Your fingers twitched at your side.

Noticing your apprehension, he sucked in a deep breath. “Do my intentions seem so insincere?”

Silence followed. You wished for a mountain of bricks, ones you could use to barricade your mind from his sorcery. 

Finally, you said, “Forgive me for being mistrusting, Commander.” Regardless of the frequency with which you said his title, it never failed to make your mouth bitter. Carefully, you slipped your hand into his, a chill running up through your body at his touch. “I would like that very much.”

Through the darkness, you watched as his gaze lowered to your joined hands, satisfaction burning in his eyes. “Allow me.”

[shyspider]

Chapter Summary: Confirmation is received: You are not where you're supposed to be. Rating: Mature Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence Fandom: Transformers - All Media Types, The Transformers (IDW Generation One)

Relationships: Soundwave & You, Shockwave & You, Skywarp & You, Rumble & You, Frenzy & You, Starscream & You, Prowl & You, Hot Rod | Rodimus & You, Drift | Deadlock & You, Sideswipe/You, Sunstreaker/You Characters: Soundwave, Shockwave, Starscream, Megatron, Skywarp, Thundercracker, Rumble, Frenzy, Ravage, Buzzsaw, Lazerbeak, Flatline - Character, Optimus Prime, Prowl, Bluestreak, Jazz, Omega Supreme, Wheeljack, Sunstreaker, Sideswipe, OCs, Background & Cameo Characters, You, Reader Additional Tags: Angst, Human Experimentation, Action/Adventure, Gunfire/firefights, Minor Character Death, Fear, Kidnapping, Graphic Violence, Manipulation, Trauma, Incorrect assumptions, Fluff, Developing Friendships, Romance (background), polyamory (background), Rescue Missions, 80s setting, Outer Space, biological mutations, Resurrection, You are a Medical Scientist, You/Reader has a name (kinda stuck with it now), You/Reader has a background for plot, Enemies to Friends, Captives to crushes, suggestive content, Sexual Content, Marked/Skippable explicit chapters, longfic, Hurt/Comfort, pre-MtMte/LL storyline, Canon Events rearranged, Implied/Referenced Character Death, attempted redemption, PTSD, Blood and Injury, Additional Warnings in Author's Notes

[barbreypilled]

there’s something soooo uncouth about tagging certain posts w #writing like someone will be talking about something serious and here comes ramblings-of-a-befuddled-whovian storing it for the most offensive ofmd fic ao3 has ever seen

[paradiecircus]