#fic writing ask meme

[ittyybittybaker]

For the ask meme, 2 and 3!

New Year Fic Writing Ask Meme

Hey Moonie!!

2. Will you participate in any fandom exchanges or fic challenges, etc? - yes! I'm doing the AFTG Mixtape this year! It's actually my very first fic exchange of any kind so I'm very nervous, but I'm excited!

3. Do you anticipate writing for a new fandom this year? Which one? - WELL, idk if I'll actually finish it or not, but I've been back in my Percy Jackson feels because of the show so I've been daydreaming about a PJO x AFTG crossover! IDK if that counts as a ~new fandom since it would be a crossover tho. I also don't know if anything would actually come of it, but It's fun to think about

[curator-on-ao3]

For the fic ask meme: 10. Favorite line or lines of dialogue that you’ve written! :)

Thank you so much for asking! 💕 (I’m sorry — this answer got long because I was having so much fun remembering stuff.)

From The Autobiography of Kirsten Clancy:

“When the Barrie took that first jolt from the storm and Fitzpatrick’s cheesecake hit the seat, she said a few uncaptainly words.” Roux grinned like a schoolboy.

I pretended to ponder this for a moment, knowing full well that Roux had likely allowed the plasma storm strike just to rattle his commanding officer. “Uncaptainly words? Like motherfucker?”

That’s my favorite dialogue I’ve ever written because what then-Commander Kirsten Clancy says to her helmsman is a paraphrase of my grandmother who, upon finding out that I had learned a new curse word, said, “Is it as bad as motherfucker? And why doesn’t anyone ever talk about the fatherfucker? The fatherfucker should get more credit.”

From the same story, my favorite non-dialogue (though dialogue sets up the line) is:

“Jean-Luc, ten worlds so far are ready to cut ties with the Federation and four more are threatening — all over resources dedicated to the Romulans.” I handed him a padd noting the planets and star systems. “More than sixty billion people would leave our protection, have their voices silenced within the Federation — for the sake of nine hundred million Romulans who surely could be helped by their own government. This is untenable.”

He sighed. “Morality is not measured in numbers, it is measured by deeds and history.”

He sounded like a fucking fortune cookie.

And did not like being told that.

The fortune cookie joke is an homage to Katrina Cornwell phasering Gabriel Lorca’s bowl of fortune cookies. Two practical, badass women admirals — I stan. (And had them meet and fall in love, because I can.)

[grissomesque]

9 and 14 for the fic writing questions :)

Yay!

#9 Favorite character to write?

Easy: Janeway. A million years ago I used to write in a lot of different fandoms (on LJ, never transferred to AO3) but nothing beats the terrible, beautiful, gut-wrenching angst potential of Janeway for me. Season 3/4 Sara Sidle would be a close second if I still wrote CSI fic. Angst, angst, baby.

#14 Would you want to write canon for any of your fandoms (like be hired by showrunner to do an episode)? Which one?

In theory, yes. I sure would've had a whole hell of a lot to say in the Picard S2 writers room (Q jr? Anyone? Bueller?). I would've liked to defeat Chris Carter in epic battle for the right to wrest creative control of X-Files from his cold dead hands.

But, the kinds of deadlines TV writers face gives me serious anxiety. Something I love about fic writing versus academic writing is its lack of deadlines (generally). I am, for example, writing this right now, and also a little follow-up to Lead, instead of an article that is due in to my editor by the end of August for which I do not yet have a let's say concrete thesis. Fun!

Plus, I think I would balk at studio (et al) constraints a little too much.

Thanks for the ask!

ask meme

[remapped-soul]

48, 37, 17 on the fic asks!!

Hiii! Thank you 💕

48 - i actuay reread a sebchal time travel au that got me all teared up. It is incredibly well written, especially the emotional part. and it speaks of a future i am deeply afraid (let's hope it never happens).

before the beginning and after the end - tianvette

37 - that would be a splendid vacation

It is a BTS rpf, hoseok/yoongi, a soulmate au set in the 80s during the political unrest and tragedy of the revolts in gwangju. It started as a way to analyse the soulmate trope and in the beginning it was a high school au. I was, at the time, highly critical of the soulmate trope, because you can't just accept someone as your soulmate and dedicate your life to them without knowing them. i also love stories with plots that are influenced by major history events without them being the main part of the plot (im thinking about movies like y tu mama tambien, the kdrama reply 1988, the dreamers movie from bertolucci). i am not normal about plots like these. I adore them, it makes the story feel so much bigger than the characters and i wanted to try creating something similar.

It took me 3 freaking years to write. I wrote the first part under deadline bc it was part of a fic exchange and then i completed it in the first year of pandemic bc life and self-doubt happened in between. I rewrote part 2 3 times bc it didnt sound the way i wanted it to. I spent hours on research as if i was writing my thesis. i made a playlist, moodboards, i discovered the writer han kang because of this story (i adore her books). i discovered maggie stiefvater (the love of my life) bc of this story - my friend and beta told me my main chara reminds her of ronan and i had to see what it was about.

i love how i tackled the soulmate trope, how i wrote hoseok and yoongi's relationship and the political plot. writing this story got me my first taste of writing settings and immersing the story in them. It is the longest thing i have ever written. I am immensly proud of it and i hope i can write something like this again.

17 - something similar to the dreamers movie. It doesn't have to be about the 1968 riots, but everything about 20th century is highly, deeply fascinating to me and if it involves a group of friends, found family, loss, politics and love and action, im down. Or reincarnation au but not about lovers, but about siblings (i have technically sth in the works with this au, it's all planned out but i fell out of love with the fandom and now it sits in my wip folder).

This got way longer than i intended but it was so much fun to talk about, especially the part about a splendid vacation. Im love that story deeply.

Thank you ♥️

(fic writing ask meme)

[forbodium]

watching their partner become a villain (dialogue prompts)

written by me. please enjoy and use for whatever you like. remember to credit me when reposting.

“this isn’t you anymore. you never wanted to hurt people.”

“come back to me. please.”

“i know you wouldn’t hurt me.”

“you have to stop this—before it’s too late!”

“turn you in? you know i could never do that.”

“don’t touch me.”

“do i mean anything to you anymore?”

“we can get away from all this; start over. no one has to know what you did.”

“if you love me, you’ll stop.”

“how long have you been planning this? did i ever even know the real you?”

“you can’t keep me here!”

“it’s okay. it’s okay. we can cover this up. where’s the bleach?”

“you promised no one would get hurt.”

“how do you expect me to sleep next to you at night knowing what you did?”

“okay, i’ll help you—but this is the last time.”

“are you going to kill me?”

“i didn’t want to believe you could do something like this.”

“what else have you been hiding?”

“i thought you cared about me.”

“no, i’m staying with you. ‘for better or for worse’, remember?”

“i can’t let this go on any longer.”

“you can do what you want with me—just don’t hurt the kids.”

“you’re not human.”

“could you change out of those bloodied clothes before you sit on my couch?”

feel free to add more prompts, and please reblog with your stories or tag me in them. i’d love to see your ideas!

[stevebabey]

let the kisses linger

word count: 3.3k summary: Steve Harrington is not your boyfriend, not yet. So far you’ve had a couple sweet kisses and an infuriating amount of dates spent with him making you nervous. Now, you just want to kiss him like you mean it, more than a peck, and maybe ask him to be your boyfriend while you do it. Steve beats you to it, on both counts. [cheeky tiny makeout + gn!reader (but r is mentioned to wear a bikini) + first relationship!reader]

It starts with a touch.

You’ve come to learn it always does with Steve. Fingers skirting along any bare skin he can find, drawing a line on your waist when just a sliver is exposed. Along the ridge of your neck, curling his hand to rest against your shoulder. His fingertips tease at your neck, feather-soft touches that can make you shiver if you’re not expecting it.

You think he does it just to see the goosebumps that trail in the wake of his touch. From the way he always grins, like the cat that got the cream, you’re probably right.

Steve can’t help it. You’re so responsive.

Maybe it’s because it’s new, this thing between you and Steve — you’ve been on a couple dates together after a string of painfully obvious flirtations over the Family Video counter that Robin had been forced to witness. You’ve just not quite sealed the deal yet.

However, even though Steve’s had more girlfriends than he can count on one hand, this part? Never gets old.

The electricity. The dance, the build-up; getting to see how you react when you’re not quite expecting him to be as close and touchy as he is.

He adores all of it. The delightful shudder you give when he slips his fingers into your hair, gifting a soft scratch along your scalp when you two had gotten cozy during a film. Your gloriously warm cheeks give you away even though Steve can read exactly when you’re nervous.

You’re utterly precious to him — and Steve wouldn’t exchange your shy smiles, flushed cheeks, or your nervous little reactions that are all because of him, for anything in the world.

Maybe it’s because you’re new to this.

First date, first time holding hands, first kiss — you’ve given them all to Steve. With the seriousness he takes them all, wholly prepared to blow your expectations out of the water, you feel you can trust them with him.

But even with trust, there’s no quelling the sticky nervousness that runs free beneath your skin when his hands begin to wander.

At first, it made you freeze. Not sure how to relax under hands that just want to hold you, touch you, just cos’ they can.

You think it took, maybe, a whole hour for you to relax and let yourself slump against Steve on your fourth date, curled up together on the couch. You think Steve knew of your nervousness and thanked him silently for his nonchalance at your stiffness. Not one comment was made.

You had relaxed into his side eventually. Steve, of course, had then gone and wrapped an arm around you and pulled you back into his chest and you’d gone straight back to tensed up.

His arms were wound around your middle, hands resting on your tummy and you hadn’t a clue on how you were supposed to be calm about it. You had mentally cursed his pretty hands, and his warm arms, and prayed to whoever was listening to grant you some semblance of strength.

And then, the bastard had leaned down, lips ghosting the shell of your ear, and whispered, “Y’can relax, sweetheart.”

You could practically hear the grin, cursing how you tensed up more — and forced yourself to melt against him. His arms tightened, pulling you closer as if this had been his plan all along. Steve’s chuckle wouldn’t have been audible if you hadn’t been so close to him.

Yeah, he definitely knew how nervous he made you.

The difference between then and now? Now, you want his wandering touch. Steve had been so sweet and good in the beginning, a little bit of teasing to watch you blush and squirm, and then he’d back off. Make sure you were actually comfortable.

You’re not sure you’ll shake the nerves with him — it’s just a Steve thing. He’s gorgeous, you’re nervous, the sky is blue, yadda yadda.

But how do you send a different message — tell him that he’s started a hunger in you that’s not quite satisfied with fleeting touches — when all you can do is shiver and blush when he puts his hands on you?

However you do, you need to figure it out, like, stat.

Today, in the blistering swell of summer, it’s getting near unbearable. At the Harrington house, Steve’s invited the party around for a bit of a pool party and you think you might die if you get to see him shirtless for any longer without getting your hands on him.

Steve’s meanly decided to forgo his shirt. It leaves him walking around in only slightly too short swim shorts and a smirk that says he knows exactly what he’s doing.

You get a tasty eyeful of his warm tan skin on display through the patio doors, your eyes tracking each mole on his skin. He’s scooping the pool free of leaves and you honestly feel like this is the start of some shitty porno with you lusting over the pool-boy. You’re fairly sure he knows you’re staring which makes it worse. He’s evil.

The muscles in his back ripple as he cleans, biceps bulging deliciously and you might seriously start drooling at the sight—how did you get him to go out with you, again?

“You’re drooling.”

Beside you in the kitchen, big sunglasses pushing back her fringe, Robin manages to startle you with her silent appearance. You jump just a bit, tearing your eyes away from Steve — you hadn’t heard her approach.

Your hand flies to your mouth, wiping fast. Embarrassment flushes up when you swipe at nothing and Robin cackles at the sight. 

You roll your eyes but it does little to deter the heat in your face.

“I’m just messing with ya,” She nudges her shoulder against yours, her grin looking far too cheeky for your liking. Like she could read into every thought that had just been streaming through your head. You silently hope not.

“I wasn’t- there was no drooling.” You say, the conviction in your voice weakening with each word.

Robin wrinkles her nose. “That was a lie of epic proportions. You so were.”

You pout a bit, embarrassment still shining through. Robin just grins further and adjusts her sunglasses. She heads to the fridge, pulls it open, and plucks out some orange juice, beginning to drink from the bottle.

“No shame.” She says lightly, between a gulp, then reconsiders after a moment, her eyes bright. “Okay, a little shame — you looked ready to jump him right here and now.”

Your face might rival the sun in heat right now.

“But he’s your boyfriend, isn’t he?” It comes out a bit gargled from the juice she’s yet to swallow. Boyfriend comes out like bwoyfend. She continues after a swallow. “If anyone’s allowed to ogle, it’d be you, no?”

Uh oh. The B-word. The not-yet official name that you’re not sure you’re allowed to use in reference to Steve just yet.

“Um,” you cough a bit, wondering if you can skirt around the question. Yes some part of you sings, because you really really want him to be. You have to scold yourself for fibbing, even if it’s only in your head. Robin takes another swig, her eyes still on you.

“Not exactly.” You admit sheepishly, a hand coming up to rub the back of your neck. “We haven’t— he hasn’t- it’s not like that. Yet.”

Robin grins as she watches you fumble for words, screwing the cap back on the OJ. She leans her hip against the countertop, casting a glance out the window.

You go to follow her look and then think the better of it, focusing back on Robin. Like you need your blush to get any more fierce.

“Dingus is being stupid. He probably just needs a nudge.” Her eyes spy the thin cherry-red strap of your bikini, peeking out beneath your cotton shirt. “I’m sure that bikini will do the trick.”

She seems to hear herself, her eyes widening a moment later, slipping into a raspy ramble you know well. “Though, it should be said I totally believe Steve likes you for your personality. He’s not like— he wouldn’t just- he’s a multi-faceted man with many many layers!”

It all bursts out a bit frantic, so very Robin. You’re both amused at her insistence that Steve doesn’t just view you as eye-candy and grateful for the way she’s managed to melt off some of your nerves, huffing a small laugh at her dramatics.

“Who is?” Steve asks, voice cutting into the conversation.

You startle a moment, surprised. He’s standing in the doorway that leads out to the pool, both arms stretched above his head to grasp the top of the door frame, leaning into it. You can’t help the way your gaze instantly draws up along his arms, far too fixated on the delicious show of his muscles to properly focus on answering his question.

“Certainly not you, dingus.” Robin comments, already clocking the hazed expression on your face. She recognizes the same absurd flirting face on Steve she’d become far too familiar with at Scoops and takes her cue, orange juice in hand.

“People arrive in like 5 minutes, just remember!” The knowing in her tone makes you consider blushing again, just to be ashamed of how quickly she had read you for filth.

Steve certainly seems to know too. He drops his arms, waltzing in to meet you in the kitchen and you will yourself not to step back when he comes a little closer than expected.

“This is a nice little number,” he murmurs, voice low. His eyes are trained on your shoulder and before you ask what he means, his hand comes up, fingers toying with the strap of your bikini. Where his skin meets yours, fire streaks beneath it, like a connecting point of static electricity.

“You think?” You ask a little breathier than you’re intending. It nearly makes you scrunch your face up in cringe, feeling a familiar glow in your cheeks.

You don’t, only because when Steve nods, teeth scraping his bottom lip for a moment and eyes wandering over your face, he looks a little lovestruck. Like he can’t believe you’re real.

His other hand comes up, both his palms resting on your shoulders and he trails them down your arms lightly, soft touches, til both your hands are in his.

“Come show me out in the sunlight?” He asks, cocking his head back out to the pool. His hands tug you ever-so-slightly. You can’t help but oblige, letting him pull you out, barely holding back your smile as he does.

There’s just something about when he touches you. Steve Harrington is a man all about touch and you’ve been going crazy finding out just how touchy he can get when you’re the one in his heart.

You amble out onto the tiles behind him and squint just a bit at the change in lighting, the bright rays of midday casting down onto the backyard. It’s mildly warm out, balmy, and with just a hint of a breeze that ruffles your shirt for a moment. 

Steve’s feet move nimbly to suddenly redirect you both — walking you both against the side of the house, til your back presses against the wall. You’re just out of view of the sliding doors, and you’d be foolish to think it’s not by design. Come show me out in the sunlight? His words echo in your head, inciting a familiar warmth in your cheeks.

“Steve—?”

“I’m gonna kiss you now if that’s okay,” He breathes, voice suddenly a lot heavier than it had been inside. Like it might actually ache inside if he doesn’t get his lips against your skin — like perhaps your lips held the antidote to a poison that was making his blood sing for your touch.

One of his hands releases your own to travel up, curling along your jaw, fingertips sliding into your hair. His eyes are still drinking in every detail of your face, affection mixed with something darker conveyed across his features.

His fingers caress along your scalp, thumb along your neck, tantalizing touches that you’re sure he’s not even aware he’s doing. But still, he doesn’t kiss you, waiting for a yes. God, he’s sweet.

Especially considering the answer is a huge fat unanimous yes.

It’s been a yes since the moment you saw him today. It’s been a thousand yes’ piling up in the weeks of seeing him, building up from the first time you kissed him and somehow bit his lip and he had only laughed and soothed it against your own.

Your yes has been growing inside you, the desire to kiss him like you mean it and leave him pink in the face and pretty.

It only takes one tiny please falling off your lips for Steve to close the gap, his lips brushing against yours. He kisses you, gentle for a moment - til a hunger overtakes and the kisses quickly turn hot and fast.

There’s urgency coiled up beneath your skin and it bursts to the surface at his kiss, the feeling you’ve been desperately craving. Steve gives you what you want gladly.

His grip in your hair tightens slightly, his kiss turning a little more fierce, and you keen and eagerly return it. His other hand has found your waist, startling a small gasp out of you when his warm palm covers your hip and bring you closer. His lips break away, just enough to take in some air and let you breath a moment, then he dives back in.

Kissing Steve, you’re quickly learning, is pure delirium.

His lips are soft and greedy and he steals kisses as quick as you can give them. There’s a quiet hum in the back of his throat, borderline a groan — and when you remember your hands, moving them from awkwardly hovering at your side to cup his face, fingers delving into his hair, the groan breaks free.

“You,” He pauses his attack of affection, lips still an inch from yours. Your eyes blink open, not aware of when they had closed. Steve’s scanning your face, looking for something, lips already pinker from your kisses. “You good? Not too much f’you?”

Your heart pounds a little faster at his care. His attentive gaze tracks your emotions to make sure he hasn’t pushed you too far, that you’re not overwhelmed by the affection. He’s so fucking nice.

You are overwhelmed, just a bit. It’s impossible not to when Steve kisses the way he does; so sweet, and like he envies anything that’s ever touched your lips. It’s pure passion, in a way you can’t even begin to describe.

The heat under your skin burns hotter. The places he touches you — his fingers in your hair, his hand on your waist, the press of his body against yours — all glow gloriously warm. Steve looks so stupidly hot, you nearly want to whine aloud about how unfair it is.

His chest is heaving a bit, a flush up his neck, his hair tousled from your grip on it. In the buttery sunlight, he’s golden and the same moles you had been staring at not 10 minutes ago look even more divine this close. You want to kiss each one, connect them with a press of your lips, and leave little marks of your own.

You want to devour him; you start and answer his question, with another kiss.

Steve’s surprise is only shown in his parted lips, a small gasp swallowed in the kiss, and you take it as an invitation, a hot swipe of your tongue across his lower lip. You take it between your own, a ghost of a nibble that makes him shudder delightfully beneath you.

Steve kisses back fervently and just when you think you’ve got the rhythm, sighing into his mouth, he pulls back. You make a noise of dissatisfaction and he chuckles lowly at it.

You don’t even get a moment to ask what’s wrong, your eyes still comfortably closed as Steve stays close, pressing his forehead down against yours. In a raspy whisper, just for you, he says, “Be mine?”

Your eyes fly open at that, some pocket of air whooshing out your lungs. He’s watching you intently, caramel eyes that give away his nervousness even if his voice hadn’t wavered. This close, you can see a smattering of freckles that dot his nose and you swear, inside your chest, your heart just sighs. He’s so pretty it hurts.

You’ve only been awed silence for a few seconds before his nose nudges yours, hand on your waist pulling you even closer. Before you can find your words, he asks it again— in between peppering soft kisses up the side of your face. “Be mine, please?”

“You- You wanna be my boyfriend?” You ask, not meaning to sound so disbelieving.

A nervous laugh titters out as you lean in closer instinctively. Your heart feels as though it’s going to beat out of your chest, as wild as a hummingbird’s wings, and it makes you grin— your lips curl up involuntarily, completely unable to help the way you beam.

“Of course,” Steve laughs lightly, nuzzling his nose against yours. Then, because he seems to have a pattern of being awfully repetitive today, his voice turns softer, all sincere when he whispers, “Of course.”

Damn him. Every time you think you’re close to settling those butterflies, to biting back the nerves that make your spine tingle, he swoops in and one-ups himself — does or says something else stupidly romantic so that all you can is grin like a dope.

You’re not proud of the giddy little noise that slips out of you when you nod excitedly, cheeks already starting to ache from how wide your grin is. You sink your teeth into your bottom lip, trying to stop smiling enough to kiss him again but Steve doesn’t bother waiting. The next kiss is a bit fumbled, both of you smiling too much to properly kiss but one or two more softens your smiles.

You kiss him hard, remember your hands and tug him close, closer, he’s not close enough — a pleased hum comes from your boyfriend’s throat and even the word in your mind makes you smile too much to keep kissing him.

A sharp rap against the sliding doors makes you whip your head to the side, both you and Steve looking perfectly guilty of being caught in your makeout. Slightly swollen lips, bitten and pink, on the both of you, not to mention the close proximity of the pair of you pressed against the house.

“Ahem,” Robin clears her throat from where she stands, out from the doorway since she had come looking for you. “Guests are arriving if you’d cared to notice.”

Part of you droops, entirely fixated on stealing a thousand kisses from Steve and maybe leaving a few marks of your own. His disappointed huff, barely audible, lets you know Steve is well on the same page as you.

Extracting yourself from his arms, you press him back with your fingertips planted in the middle of his chest. Steve turns back to you, groans aloud like he’s about to complain, and it just furthers your smile into a smirk.

“Plenty of time for that later,” You say, still sounding too giddy to come out as confident as you’re aiming for. Internally, some part of you sings, glad you’re finally confident enough in yourself that you verge from skittish nerves into playful teasing.

Your fingers on his chest twitch, walking up to the line of his collarbones and lingering on the base of his throat. Steve watches you closely, gaze a little hungrier than before, and then he huffs again, playfully slapping your hand away from his chest.

“Oh my god, I’ve created a monster!” He covers his face dramatically and throws his head back, egged on by the laughter that escapes you. The expanse of his throat is bared, hot tan skin that is begging to be littered with love bites. You take the thought and bookmark it, for later.

“C’mon then, boyfriend.” You say, just ‘cos you can. Steve grins. Your chest burns beautifully, in a way you never want to quench.

Besides, you can quell that hunger later. He is your boyfriend now, after all.

[mothercetrion]

I got bored and decided to do this OTP ask meme with Johnshi. enjoy!

1) Who rocks the Ferris Wheel seat and who flips out and begs them to stop? Johnny. he is a bit immature and childish sometimes, and being on a Ferris wheel just brings it out. Kenshi is likely irritated at first, but it grows on him quickly.

2) Who is always horny and will have sex at any time, at any place? Johnny. he has a big house, and he loves to experiment. Kenshi is open to trying, but he loves having sex in Johnny's bed the most.

3) Who is more into taking showers/baths together? Who tries to make it relaxing and who tries to make it sexy time? before they get together, Kenshi typically showers, and Johnny mostly showers with the occasional bath (self-care!). after they get together, Johnny is the one to suggest a bath together, and Kenshi agrees after some consideration. it's honestly kind of nice! they're more likely to shower together though; it takes less time to prepare and they can be physically closer together. regardless, they like doing either together, though Johnny likes it more.

4) Who likes to walk around the house naked and who tells the other to go put some clothes on? Johnny loves not wearing clothes, and he's more likely to have a shirt off than to a shirt on. we've seen him shirtless in damn near every game, after all. Kenshi doesn't mind it, however.

5) Who sleeps on the couch when they get into a fight? Kenshi. he is more likely to storm out in a fight, so he'll just go to the couch. sometimes, Johnny will go after him immediately, but other times, he knows that Kenshi needs some space and leaves him there for the night.

6) Who takes photos of the other while they sleep? Johnny. he is convinced that Kenshi is the sexiest man on the planet, plus he needs pictures to prove to social media that his boyfriend is super hot! Kenshi doesn't like making too many social media appearances, but he's on there a few times. regardless, photos of Kenshi sleeping are in abundance on Johnny's phone.

7) Who said “I love you” first? and who ends their arguments in a fight with “Because I love you”? Johnny has said "I love you" first in every relationship he's been in…except his relationship with Kenshi. after a difficult night for Kenshi (nightmares are not fun), he and Johnny are lying together in bed, and Kenshi suddenly gets the courage to tell him how he truly feels. Johnny is stunned, but he reciprocates immediately and admits that he's known for a while. Kenshi will also end arguments with "because I love you" when his protectiveness or his worries over Johnny's safety kick in. the argument will start loud, as arguments tend to do, but Kenshi's voice gets softer and quieter when he tells Johnny that he wants him to be safe because he wants him to come home and he loves him. Johnny is touched.

8) Who likes to wear the other's sweatshirts? Kenshi loves wearing Johnny's clothes, mostly his T-shirts. Johhny goes absolutely nuts seeing Kenshi wear anything that he owns.

9) Who wakes the other up in the middle of the night to tell them a cool dream they had? Who has the most nightmares, and who sings them back to sleep after? neither wakes the other, but if Johnny has a cool dream, he'll tell Kenshi about it in the morning. Kenshi definitely has more nightmares than Johnny. dreams of his Yakuza days or his blinding can appear out of nowhere, and they always leave him terribly shaken (or in pain, depending on the extent of the dream). Johnny will hold him close and tell him stories from throughout his career until he calms down and/or falls asleep. the sound of Johnny's voice is shockingly comforting.

10) Who is more likely to cheat at games? Johnny. he likes winning, and he will pull all the punches to make it happen. Kenshi doesn't catch him at first, but when he does, he's pissed. Johnny always swears that he'll stop, but it's only temporary.

11) Who makes fun of the other for having a crush on them, and who has to remind them that they are in a relationship? Johnny is a teasing bastard, but Kenshi secretly loves it. Johnny will catch Kenshi looking just a little too happy around him, and he'll ask if he has a crush on him. Kenshi counters that they're dating, but he loves the conversations when they happen.

12) Who starts a food fight in the kitchen? Johnny. again, he's immature and childish. however, he does more of the cooking between them, so any fights are pretty rare. if he makes a mess, he'll make it worse if he's in a teasing mood.

13) Who initiates duets? and who is the better singer? most of the time, Johnny will initiate a duet if they're in a car together. Kenshi is less likely to sing along unless they're at home, singing quietly to one another in Johnny's bedroom or their kitchen late at night. they both can sing, but Kenshi is a shockingly good singer, though he denies it.

14) Who starts the hand-holding? Who grabs the other's butt? Who slides their arm around their waist? Who likes to put their fingers in the belt loops? Johnny initially started the hand-holding, but Kenshi gets a lot more confident in initiating it later in their relationship. they only grab butts in absolute privacy, but Johnny is more likely. both of them will wrap an arm around the other's waist and put their fingers in the belt loops of their pants. it's usually to pull them closer when they're hugging and/or kissing.

15) Who likes to write the other's name on their wrist? neither. they keep mementos/reminders of one another in different ways when they're not together.

16) Who is more seductive when they are drunk? and who is louder in bed? Kenshi is much more seductive after he's gotten drunk. Johnny is too, but Kenshi's seductiveness increases a lot more than Johnny's, so it's more noticeable. Johnny is so damn loud when he's in bed, and he cannot help it. however, Kenshi loves that and can't get enough, and he will do anything to keep Johnny happy, even at the cost of another one of his senses.

17) Who is more protective? Kenshi. he will do whatever he needs to do to keep Johnny safe from the Yakuza, even if it means tapping back into his gangster/criminal side. Johnny thinks that Kenshi's protectiveness is incredibly sexy, but he assures him that he will be safe.

18) Who talks to the other while they are sleeping? Johnny (and secretly Kenshi). if Johnny's awake and he's bored, he'll talk to Kenshi until he gets tired. sometimes though, he'll tell Kenshi how proud of him he is and how grateful he is to have him as a boyfriend. Kenshi will whisper how much he loves Johnny when he knows the actor can't hear him.

19) Who drives and who has the window seat? (ignoring how obvious this one is for the sake of the game LMAO) Kenshi had a license before he was blinded, and every now and then, Johnny can convince him to drive with Sento strapped to his back and sunglasses on his face. most of the time, though, Johnny drives. he likes it a lot, and Kenshi likes being in the passenger seat.

20) Who falls asleep in the other's lap and who carries them to bed? both of them! they're both super busy, and they're both tired after a long day. Johnny is more likely to fall asleep on Kenshi's lap, in the middle of telling Kenshi about his day, but Kenshi is thankfully very strong. if Kenshi falls asleep, he usually wakes up in the middle of Johnny carrying him, and he will stumble up the stairs and fall asleep within seconds of hitting the bed.

21) Who cuts the other's hair? neither. Johnny does not trust anyone but his hairdresser with his hair, and Kenshi feels the same way. however, they'll brush the other's hair (or run their fingers through it) all day.

22) Who is super bad at sexting? and who sends them encouraging messages throughout the day? both? Kenshi is bad at sexting because it's unfamiliar, and Johnny is bad at sexting because some of the things he will send Kenshi are not things you send over text. Johnny is more likely to send an encouraging text, especially if he knows Kenshi will be busy and/or stressed. they always help cheer Kenshi up.

23) Who thinks they are not good enough for the other's love? and who’s more afraid of losing the other? Who thinks they keep messing up, only for the other to tell them they don’t need to worry? Johnny is a recently divorced, faltering celebrity. he's not getting the gigs he needs to keep up the image that he wants to. sometimes he feels like Kenshi deserves a lot better than that. Kenshi assures him that being with Johnny is what he wants, regardless of if he's super famous. Kenshi is terrified of the Yakuza somehow getting a hold of Johnny to get back at him for leaving, hence his protective side. Johnny always assures him that he can protect himself and will let him know if something is going on that could be because of the Yakuza. I feel like Johnny would be a little more concerned about messing up considering his track record, but "messing up" in a relationship comes with the territory. both of them can be pretty different, and neither of them has had a partner quite like the other before. but they're willing to learn!

24) Who starts random slow dancing with the other in the kitchen? Who holds the other just above the ground and kisses them? Johnny. he loves dancing, but he loves dancing with Kenshi more. they'll hold one another close and sway as long as they can, listening to soft music from one of their phones. they're so close to the same height that lifting one another just off the ground is difficult, but they both love kissing when they're alone like this.

25) Who says shitty puns and sex jokes just to see the other giggle and blush? Johnny. he's much more pun-savvy than Kenshi. many puns will land and make Kenshi laugh, but others, like sex jokes, will not make him laugh…until they're in the bedroom, and then Johnny's jokes hit much differently (in the best way) and leave him flustered as hell.

26) Who kissed first? Johnny. he's more likely to make a physical move than Kenshi is, and he's the one to initiate that first kiss after a romantic evening at Johnny's house. Kenshi was surprised, but he was quick to reciprocate.

27) Who orders takeout at two in the morning? and who wakes the other up at three in the morning to go downstairs with them to get a glass of water because it’s too dark? Johnny gets bored if he can't sleep. the smell and/or sound of Johnny eating at his desk or in the damn bed will wake Kenshi, but Johnny always gets a serving for him (just in case he wakes up). neither will wake the other to go downstairs for water, but if they're both awake, they'll go together.

28) Who writes poems/stories and love songs about the other? Do they sing the songs they write for them? Johnny is the more creative type, and he can be poetic if he really wants to be. he's not likely to share it with Kenshi unless it's perfect in his eyes, and that's rare since it's a less familiar medium to him.

29) Who does some crazy stunt to try and impress the other and who ends up driving them to the emergency room after it backfires? they're both pretty reckless, but Johnny has gotten hurt more since their relationship began. Kenshi isn't impressed when he pulls off something, but he will help him if he gets hurt, all while chastising him for his stupidity. however, Kenshi is a lot more worried if Johnny gets hurt on set, which has happened before since he does his own stunts. it usually doesn't require a hospital visit by the time Kenshi sees him, but he'll dote on him and force him to rest all the same.

30) Who is embarrassed when they have to wear their glasses and who thinks they look super cute? Kenshi obviously doesn't need glasses, and Johnny doesn't either, buuuuut Johnny does wear sunglasses! and sometimes when they're in public, Johnny will lend Kenshi a pair so he can blend in. Johnny thinks he looks great.

[cheetahing]

i keep asking people for their dihua first kiss headcanons (feel free to tell me yours!) so i figured it was about time i wrote mine out. reminder that requests are open, so please don't be shy about sending some in.

*

so, a'fei kisses him. it doesn't quite feel familiar but it doesn't feel wrong, and after a moment li lianhua parts his lips and reciprocates. it's a sweet, slow thing, exploratory and with a tiny hint of teeth. a'fei tries to chase it when li lianhua pulls away, but a firm hand on his chest stops him.

"ah," li lianhua sighs, regretful and faintly aggrieved, "no, no, that won't do at all."

"you liked it," a'fei says. "why not?"

"oh," li lianhua says, schooling himself into a somewhat proper posture and not the dreamy slump of the recently kissed, "you'll understand when you're older."

a'fei squints at him.

"there are a lot of reasons," li lianhua amends, aiming to sound prim and not quite succeeding. "you'll remember them someday."

"i don't think i'll care," a'fei says, and li lianhua smiles at that.

"well, that's for the you of then to decide, not the you of now."

*

"if you say so," a'fei says, doubtful, but doesn't try to stop li lianhua when he makes his escape toward the tower door.

"well," li lianhua says with the sly look he gets when he's sure he's got a winning hand, "it wouldn't be the first time di-mengzhu kissed me."

di feisheng's scowl is thunderous. "i wasn't myself," he says, "it doesn't count." it doesn't! a'fei had done a lot of things di feisheng wouldn't, and even if this, perhaps, was not one of them, it doesn't count.

"don't deny it, you'll wound my maiden heart," li lianhua says with an exaggerated swoon.

"did you like it that much," di feisheng says, frown deepening. li lianhua had quite liked it, hadn't he. di feisheng feels vaguely wronged, as if something has been taken from him.

"why, lao di," li lianhua says, sounding positively delighted, "are you jealous? of yourself?"

"preposterous." di feisheng crosses his arms. he is a man who simply takes what he wants; he does not get jealous! especially not of some other version of himself taking initiative that he hasn't.

"you are, aren't you," li lianhua says, nearly glowing in the moonlight. it's a terribly good look on him.

"they'll find us if you get any louder," di feisheng says, deflection as threatening as he can make it sound. li lianhua makes a show of covering his mouth as he laughs.

"come now, lao di," he says, crossing over to di feisheng's side of the table. "it's a fairly easy problem to solve, isn't it?"

di feisheng glares at him. li lianhua doesn't seem to notice, easing himself down onto the bench and twining his arms around di feisheng's neck. "isn't it?" li lianhua repeats, smiling up into his face.

it's awfully unfair of him, some beleaguered corner of di feisheng's mind notes, but they're kissing before he can finish the thought. his hands come up to anchor themselves on li lianhua's too-thin waist, squeezing possessively. it's less gentle this time, more teeth and more tongue, the edge of frustration making him impatient. li lianhua nips back gamely, and it isn't long before they settle into a rhythm of give and take, retreating and pursuing.

di feisheng drags li lianhua's lower lip out between his teeth as he pulls away, surveying li lianhua's blown pupils and flushed face with an air of proprietary triumph. he brings one hand up to cup li lianhua's face and trace his spit-shiny lips with his thumb.

"that," he says, "is our first kiss."

[dapper-lil-arts]

i for one fucking adore the pony posting. keep doing your thing 👍

i got you. enjoy the finest cuisine ~

[meadowziplines]

ohh for the wip game - 😭 (i love angst)

one i've been reliably informed is destroying people's souls (not posted yet, but will have a hopeful ending). the google doc is titled "this time tomorrow || the rovers they sing"

The beginning of what might be the end starts when Hob tells Dream about Laika.  "She was just a stray they picked up off the streets and – she didn't know, Dream. She didn't know they weren't going to bring her home." Dream's eyes are starry, as they often are. A comet flashes by, appearing in first one eye, then the other. Hob doesn't know what he wants Dream to say. His otherworldly friend closes his eyes, then opens them. "The technicians preparing her for launch in the Sputnik 2 spacecraft kissed her goodbye."  [...] And here, at the National Air and Space Museum, Hob stands in front of an exhibit on Laika the dog, with Dream, lamenting the lost dog. Where Dream tells him about the technicians kissing Laika good-bye. The leaving. The good-byes in airports. "Is there something you want to tell me, duck?"  "Her name was also Kudryavka, Zhuchka, and Limonchik. One dog of many names."

ty for the ask c:

ask game post here

[austajunk]

Screw it. I’m gonna go for it.

Makoyuma as number 3

But make it a scenario where one’s putting their head to the other to take their temperature because they’re sick.

I’ll let you decide on who’s who because I love them both equally as both caretaker and victim :3c

They really are my guilty pleasure ship... O///O

[ittyybittybaker]

for the writer asks -- 9 & 13!

New Year Fic Writing Ask Game

Hey Rory!

9. - already answered!

13. Aside from fanfic, are there any other fan works you’d like to try creating? Fanart, or fanvids, gifsets, or podfic? - So i'm not very artistic but an ~unusual 'fan work' I like to do is create dessert menus/plated desserts based on things that I like: albums, books, movies, etc. I'd like to try to do more of that this year and maybe try to actually make tue desserts I dream up! I know it's not a ~traditional type of fan work, and it's not something most people would be interested in, but it's fun for me!

[curator-on-ao3]

3 and 4 for the fic writing questions please!

Thank you so much for asking! 💕

3. Which was the hardest to write, in terms of plot?

The toughest plotting I’ve ever accomplished was Fly Me to the Moon, a non-linear J/P multi-chap that spans four universes (three canon and one AU) and marches to two separate time periods, then splits to four time periods, all in sync. Plus, the story has J/P and P/T happy endings. It was a bear to wrestle, and I’m so glad I did!

4. Which has the most “you” in it, however you’d define that?

I try to keep “me” out of stories … with one exception: Walk with Me. It’s a Kathryn Janeway and Owen Paris friendship one-shot and … at least I got what she didn’t.

[fumifooms]

I think you made me start shipping Marchil

Your posts got me thinking about their dynamic then I wrote a fic that was supposed to be platonic but midway through I realized it could actually be interpreted as romantic too and now I'm just sad about how little time they'll have together

First of all, you have a lovely icon, second, I’m so honored… I finally read Not a bad way to go and it was soo so good like. My god!!! Pre-canon is underused and you did so many interesting things with it.

It sounded like a cruel joke, that the one who needed her concern the most was also the one least interested in it.

^^^ go read it go read it

Chilchuck was drunk enough that he needed to hold onto the walls not to fall, but apparently still sober enough to remember emotional vulnerability was his worst enemy, as he made sure to avert her eyes and said: “Namari made me come talk to you ” to make it clear he wasn't being nice voluntarily.

Yeah.

“Of course I'm scared of dying.” He scoffed. Did she really think so little of him? “But if I could choose, I would want to die doing something I love, like drinking. Or maybe fucking,”

Maybe you wish you didn’t know but my new favorite HC because of this is that Chil dies yes prematurely not of liver failure though but during coitus. Especially if marchil, the thought of him busting a nut and his heart giving out makes me laugh so hard. My god. Lmao. Oh god. Lmfao. Worst day of her life

Marcille knew Chilchuck wasn't a kid, but she often struggled to take him seriously as an adult because he was just so adorable and small. In this moment, however, she saw them exactly for what they were, even if it was just a glimpse. A sheltered, naive little girl trying to tell a tired, much more experienced man how to live the rest of his life.

Standing ovation

She tried to find an explanation to give him, but she couldn't even find one for herself. Why would she miss him? He was just Chilchuck, her coworker, Chilchuck who was cold, aloof, sometimes crass, evasive, and even outright mean. He who was level headed, reliable, trustworthy, perceptive and clever. He who had the least time left, even in a best case scenario. “I guess that despite your best efforts, there's still a lot to like about you.”

This fic goes so hard, standing ovation pt 2

“I just think it's better if we don't get too close. Don't you agree?” “I… maybe” she said, uncertain as he didn't know how to feel about that. Caring about people would only hurt her in the wrong run, she knew that, but unfortunately she couldn't help it.

I looove how they can be read to be similar on this aspect. My hand clenching around my phone as I rear up to rant about Marcille and the way she does keep people at an arm’s length subconsciously again my god my goood. Obsessed with this obsessed with this, underused for marchil. Terrified of loss through death vs rejection duo I love youuu

Brilliant ending I’m in shambles. I’m not gonna spoil it

You get marchil so much you truly do. The way they mesh, the way their views on mortality clash and both soothe & bruise… He doesn’t have much time left even in best case scenario (which Mr I won’t eat well I’ll drink and smoke a lot I’ll stress all day every day is determined to not make happen) which makes it all the more meaningful for Marcille’s arc when she learns from him to finally enjoy the present moments… It’ll only be a fraction of her life, but to him he’s giving her the rest of his life. What are some decades of love worth? Worth it, surely, if nothing else

[icemankazansky]

icemav and a teachers au for the 3 sentences things?

Thanks for playing!

This one ran waaaaay over.

Ice is grading lit reviews and doesn’t even look up when Maverick comes in.  He doesn’t need to see him to scold him.

“You missed your office hours again,” Ice says, red penning the shit out of some poor student’s paper.  “I’m going to start charging you for every one of your students I have to interact with.  I am not your secretary.  In fact, the department has a secretary.  His name is Jeremy.  You passed his desk on the way in.”

Maverick dumps his bag at his own desk, then slides right over to Ice’s, taking a seat on the desktop like Ice isn’t using it.  Ice doesn’t so much as look up at him over the lenses of his reading glasses.  He keeps grading, but his mouth is pinched, either showing annoyance or hiding amusement.  Maverick will humor him, pretend he doesn’t know it’s the latter.

“You don’t want to know why I missed my office hours?” Maverick prods him.

“I don’t care, Mitchell.  Once again: I am not your secretary, social or otherwise.”

For a moment, Maverick watches Ice work.  Not for the first time, he considers conducting a proper experiment on how much more aggressively Ice grades when he’s pretending to ignore Maverick.  It would be nice to have the numbers to rub in Ice’s face, but the effects on the physics department’s grade curve would have to be explained to the dean.

“I was standing in line at the box office,” Maverick says.  

Maverick pulls his surprise out of his jacket pocket and tosses it onto the paper Ice is grading.  For a moment, Ice is still.  Finally, he picks the tickets up, looks at them for a moment, and then looks up at Maverick, sliding his readers up to rest on top of his head the way people do with their sunglasses.  A slight blush colors his cheeks, and he can’t keep a rein on his smile.

“You’re going to take me to the ballet, Mitchell?”

Maverick shrugs.  “I hear it’s romantic or something.  Someone told me the company is coming from Russia, so they’re, like, legit.”

Ice smirks.  “Someone, huh?”  He schools his expression as best he can, but no one can read Ice like Maverick, and he’s as good as beaming behind the frosty veneer.  “I’m not easy.  I like to be invited on dates, Maverick.”

Maverick takes his hand.  Kisses his knuckles, enjoying the way Ice flushes, looks into his eyes.  “Professor Kazansky—Ice, darling—will you do me the honor of accompanying me to the ballet?”

“I will,” Ice says, and leans up to kiss him.

“You can schedule it with my secretary,” Ice whispers between kisses.  “His name’s Jeremy; you passed him on the way in—”

Maverick bites him, Ice laughs; they stop talking, mouths otherwise occupied for the foreseeable future.

[hourcat]

alonso+stroll. no.9. YOU GOTTA 😹 ( i mean you dont but i saw you saying sth so if u wanna practice i gotcha babe) 🩷

9: one night stand but the next morning you learn it's your CEO's kid

In hindsight, Fernando realizes it probably wasn't the best decision to take the kid home from the bar. Nothing good happens in Manhattan on a Thursday after 11pm, and especially not when the next day involves a quarterly presentation that his team has been scrambling to put together for months, now. If he were smarter, maybe he'd have called it a night after the last toast with his analysts. Hell, maybe he wouldn't have shown up at all.

The thing is, right after their row of chairs at the bar had cleared, Fernando had turned to look for one of the senior leadership teams and ended up with a face full of unidentifiable blazer--which had, of course, ended up being Lance. Lance, who'd apologized and introduced himself blandly but with a glint in his eye. Lance, who'd offered to buy Fernando a drink with a dark, raised brow that'd been urging him on.

Lance, who's now dragging him to the too-small bathroom at the back of the bar like his life depends on it. Fernando is far too many drinks in to protest such a blessing, this stranger and his big hands pawing at his belt like a desperate puppy: he'll just have to roll with it instead. "Easy," he chuckles, voice sounding distant to his own ears, "easy, princesa, this is my nicest suit." It's not, really, but Lance doesn't need to know that. They have to slow it down or he's going to make a mess of--well, of himself. It's been a long time since he hooked up with someone like this in a bathroom of all places. He's not 27 anymore.

"Really?" His companion's voice is breathy but clearly disbelieving, both brows now arched at his words. "It's not that nice." Fernando is too drunk to be immediately irritated, which works in his favor, because in a beat Lance's face breaks into a shit-eating grin, head thunking back against the stall carelessly, like he knows what he's doing. "I've wiped my ass with nicer."

Such an asshole. Fernando huffs a half-formed laugh, then thwacks his arm heavily into Lance's chest, knocking a little uff from him. "You talk too much," he counters, forcing his weight into Lance a little more. The low groan of approval he gets in return just makes him put a little more effort into it. "What, is playing with daddy's money not enough for you?" The younger man's eyes seem to glaze over at his tone. "You want to see what it is like to do real work, hm, is that it." Fernando's not going to bother trying to make this work here and now--he's going to drag this rich pretty boy back to his apartment on 57th Street, and he's going to fuck all this haughty, smug energy right out of him.

Lance goes easily, and the night passes all too quickly. The mess left behind when he scrabbles for his now-filthy blazer and all but disappears from Fernando's place before dawn is the only proof he'd ever been there in the first place. It's probably for the better, anyway: he's now working against the clock to put himself together and keep all of his Q4 talking points in relative order instead of think about the noises he'd ripped from that stranger sharing his bed all night.

He's going to secure that end-of-year bonus for his team the moment he walks through the conference room doors--

of course, that's before he sees Lance sitting in that same now-clean blazer at the end of the table, seated next to Fernando's CEO and picking at his nails uninterestedly.

Side by side, the resemblance is uncanny.

"Oh, fuck."