#hi have this snippet from my drafts that was meant to be part of a longer fic but. im probably just gonna do it in little snippets now

[monstrsball]

Iwaizumi doesn't know what to think when he finds his boyfriend in the entry way of their apartment, soaked from head to toe and clutching his jacket to his chest.

"I'm home." Suga says with a sheepish grin while he clumsily tries to get his shoes off without using his hands.

“You’re soaked,” Iwaizumi frowns, pushing his wet bangs back out of his face and eyeing the barely noticeable trembling of his shoulders. “Why aren’t you-”

Suga’s jacket meows.

Suga frowns down at the jacket in his arms. “You were supposed to let me do the talking first.” He says lightheartedly, his words are met with another slightly more indignant meow.

“Koushi, we talked about this.” Iwaizumi says.

“It’s raining, Hajime. The poor thing was soaked, I couldn’t just leave her out there.” Suga says, his tone soft. “Can we just keep her here for tonight? Until it stops raining? And then I’ll take her to the shelter.”

Iwaizumi wants to stand firm but his resolve slowly melts away when he looks at the cat again. She’s shivering just as much as Suga, the now soaked jacket likely not helping her keep warm. She’s nuzzling into his chest in search of warmth and it tugs at Iwaizumi’s heartstrings. 

He glances back at the door to the balcony. Still raining. 

“Okay,” Iwaizumi relents. “She can stay for tonight. Until it stops raining.” 

He has a nagging feeling that ‘for tonight’ is going to turn into indefinitely but the pure joy lighting up Suga’s face distracts him from this fleeting thought. 

“Yeah, yeah. You need to get out of those clothes.” Iwaizumi reaches out to take the cat from Suga’s arms. She's oddly compliant for a stray. “I’ll dry her off and get her some food and water. I think we have some canned tuna in the cabinet.”

“Ooh,” Suga whistles, gently depositing the little tabby into Iwaizumi’s open arms. “You hear that, baby? He’s spoiling you.” He coos. 

“It’s the only thing we have,” Iwaizumi rolls his eyes, readjusting his grip once he has the cat safely in his arms. She nuzzles into the newfound warmth immediately.

[quidell-fics]

Here's a snippet of my Black Myth: Wukong Fanfic! I have a lot of it outlined...the reason why the OC got sent (isekai lol) into the world, her purpose, the small changes her presence will bring about, as well as...the ending of the game. Everything in between, I'm still outlining, but here's a rough draft of the first beginning part of chapter 1.

Please note that this might change slightly when I finish the chapter and edit the crap out of it, haha. I'm also trying to get the tone down. Still not 100% sure how I want to write the OC.

Still trying to decide on a name for this fanfic 🤔

"This simply won't do. You're soul…” I was paralyzed, as if ice had seeped into my veins, numbing me without its familiar sting. The world around me blurred, lost to the creeping dread that curled around my thoughts. The voice that had shattered the silence dripped with venom, a dark melody of displeasure that echoed through the emptiness, leaving me hollow and unsure. "But perhaps this will suffice, though it seems even beyond my understanding.” He was close, his voice brushing against me like a whisper on the wind, yet I couldn’t see him. The darkness pressed in, so deep, so consuming, that it swallowed everything, leaving me stranded in its suffocating void.  “But this,” he said, and I felt something slip from my grasp, the only sensation in the endless void. It was something I hadn’t even realized I was holding, “must be set aside for now.” A pause. “I'll return it to you once you've aided,” another pause, this one heavy with contemplation, a silence that lingered like a held breath, “him on his journey. And if, in turn, he helps you... well, should that come to pass, everything will change. Truly change. And at long last, his wish will be fulfilled." His words drifted past me like smoke, their meaning lost in the haze of my confusion. I couldn’t piece together who he was talking about, or what any of it meant. But my mind clung to the last fragments of what I knew—my bakery, the comforting warmth that lingered as I retired to my room for the night. And then... then, the world slipped into nothingness. No. Not into nothingness, but into a descent, a slow, inevitable fall. Now, I had found myself suspended in this void, floating in an abyss where sound, other than this voice, was swallowed whole and movement was a distant memory. My voice was silenced, my limbs were bound by unseen chains, and the darkness stretched on, unbroken and all-consuming. But despite the emptiness pressing in on all sides, I was unnervingly calm. Hollow, yes—adrift in this sea of uncertainty—but calm, as if this strange, bleak serenity was the only thing keeping me tethered to whatever was left of myself. "Do not disappoint me, little one. You’ve been granted a rare chance, but if you falter, the cycle will continue unbroken, and Reincarnation will not grace an outsider such as yourself. You will be lost to the void, your existence erased. Do you grasp the gravity of this?” No. I really didn't. "If yes, then perhaps there's a glimmer of promise in you after all. But don’t grow too confident—the true trials are only just beginning.” And then, the darkness swallowed me whole, and in that suffocating void, it felt as though I truly ceased to exist, because I no longer knew anything.

[luna-naoffcial]

Criminal Love

—PART ONE

Pairing: Alastor x Fem! Reader

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

PART TWO | PART THREE | PART FOUR

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

Author Note: it has been a while since I had this app! Oh god. It will be terrible as I am rusty as hell, but I couldn't help but project this story here. It has been in my drafts since January, and multiple chapters have already been pre written up.I am aware of the mixed opinions of Alastor sexuality and the boundaries of people who are aro/ace being crossed and dislike how, in most stories, he is sexually involved.Unfortunately, this is simply a harmless, made-up fanfiction story where Alastor is only involved with the reader as this is set before. Any negative comments will be simply blocked or ignored.As for you Alastor lover sout here who simply want to sell your soul to him (I see you all on tik tok) then enjoy and if any errors to point out please let me know, otherwise enjoy as this will be a quick time snippet of your time on earth with Alastor before being reunited in hell together Warnings will be applied within the stories for anyone who will be triggered or simply don't like reading smut.Just to clear some bits up if you're new to these kinds of stories. Anyway enjoy!

5 years old

"Wow!" You gasped with wide-open (e/c) as you saw the worm Alastor was holding up. "It's so wiggly!" You giggled and leaned closer to get a better look at the slimy creature. "Isn't it amazing?" The little boy grinned proudly.

You had just moved across the road to the abandoned house with your mom when you noticed the little boy named Alastor digging around in his front garden. From that day forward, the two of you became inseparable playing in the woods and scheduling playdates at each other's homes. Usually, these playdates occurred at yours due to the intimidating presence of Alastor's father, who reminded you of your own. Alastor preferred it that, so he could stay away from his father's drunken state. Your home was a simple bungalow with two bedrooms.Several months have passed since meeting Alastor. You were both engaged in a book in your bedroom. You and Alastor enjoy reading, as it was one of the many things you enjoyed doing together. The Adventures of Pinocchio was both your favourite. However, an unexpected interruption disrupts your time with Alastor, Your mother's voice resonates from the living room, summoning your presence. "(Y/N)?" With a sigh, you got out of your comfortable position on the bed with Alastor following along. Together, you make your way to the living room, where your mother awaits. "Yes, Mother?" You inquire, your voice tinged with curiosity. "I have some important information to share with you, my dear," your mother responds. "Tomorrow marks the first day of school, and it is important that you prepare for bed soon." A wave of disappointment washed over you as you knew this meant less time playing with your new friend. Alastor, who has been homeschooled under the roof of his mother, will not be joining you in this new adventure. You exchange a meaningful glance with Alastor, your eyes reflecting the shared sentiment of sadness. "Don't worry, Al," you exclaim. "We can play everyday after I get home from school!" You said with a cheerful tone. Your mother, a witness to this heartwarming exchange, can not help but chuckle softly, her heart warmed by the genuine bond between the two children."I will allow you both thirty minutes of outdoor playtime." Your mother said. "Thank you, Mother!" You expressed your gratitude and immediately rushed outside with the brunette. "What game shall we play?" You inquired as you travelled the forest path leading to the fields. "Hmm." You perceived Alastor's sudden touch upon your shoulder. "TAG!" he exclaimed as he sprinted away. "That's not fair!" You voiced your objection as you tried catching Alastor around the fields, unable to apprehend him. You eventually succumbed to exhaustion and collapsed onto the overgrown grass, gasping for breath. "Accepting defeat?" Alastor said with a radiant smile. You responded with a huff. "Yes," you mumbled.Alastor chose to lay beside you, as you both directed your attention skyward in silence."(N/N)..." You turned your head to the side, meeting his gaze. "Promise we will stay friends when you go to school?" he said. "Duh!" you responded. "Oh!" You abruptly sat up. "Shall we make an agreement?" you suggested as you picked up a stone. Alastor tilted his head slightly, perplexed by the stone's involvement.

(Blood and conflict of self-harm)

"Let's make a deal of our friendship lasting forever and to always share our deepest and darkest secrets. My secret shall be yours, and yours shall be mine." You took the pointed end of the stone and sliced it through the palm of your left hand, causing it to bleed. Alastor stared wide-eyed at the young girl. "What? It's a blood oath,"you explained cheerfully. "Besides, I read about it in a book somewhere." You shrugged.You passed the stone to Alastor, who gazed at it momentarily before looking into your (E/C) eyes. He perceived the innocence you projected, as if this act were entirely harmless. However, in reality, this was a solemn agreement that would indeed be binding. "Ok... I trust you," Alastor stated as he made a precise incision on his right palm.Alastor grasped your hand, sealing the pact with a handshake that intermingled your blood, symbolizing the fusion of your commitment to him.Not intentionally realizing that you had just made a deal on keeping a dark secret for the future cannablist serial killer of New Orlenas.

(Y/N) - Your name

(N/N) - NickName

(E/C) - Eye Colour

(H/C) - Hair Colour

[jo-harrington]

Interview Prep (Eddie Munson x Store Manager!Reader)

Pairing: Eddie Munson x Fem!Reader

Summary: Reader is worried about making a change to some routines.

Previous Part: Standard Operating Procedures 1.03

Warnings/Themes: AU where the Upside Down doesn't terrorize Hawkins. Reader works at the Claire's at StarCourt. Eddie works at TapeWorld. Mutual Pining and Slow Burn, Meeting the Family, Anxiety, Fluff

Note: Special thanks to @chestylarouxx @fracturedarkness and @courtingchaos for reading my snippets, listening to my rambling, and easing my nerves with this one. It's been in my drafts since February! And it's always kind of eluded me, but it's very special so I appreciate the time you took to help me out. So so much.

You can find my masterlist here for more featuring our resident Store Manager and all of my other writing.

Please do not interact if you are not 18+.

Enjoy!

---

“…and I swear the sound is so much better than my Fender. Like a thousand times better. I’m gonna need a new amp, I think. She is way too good for that hunk of junk that Rick got from his buddy way back when.”

“Uh huh.”

“God, I wish you could come to a show to hear it. Maybe...maybe I can ask Tom at the Hideout if our set could be a little later one night so you could come out after the store closed?"

"Sure."

“And then we could get pickle and bologna milkshakes at Benny's afterwards."

"Sounds great."

"Am I boring you?” Eddie finally stopped as he hit the button on the bailer and put his hands on his hips. "You're not even listening."

“What?” You freed yourself from your thoughts and got a good look at him. "I...what? No."

It was break time, which meant cardboard got crushed and garbage tossed before you ventured into the food court for something to eat. And on a day like today when your schedules aligned, that also meant your break was spent with your closest friend--only friend--in Hawkins.

And on any other day, you would have happily listened to his story.

Hell, you actually had listened to him...for most of it at least--he boasted about his new guitar, how he named her Sweetheart, and her first actual performance outside of Gareth's garage that had occurred the night prior--before you got too caught up in your own head.

It had been a normal Wednesday when you got to the store for your opening shift. The registers were counted, gate pushed up, and you were about to confidently post the new schedule.

Then the mail was delivered.

And with it, a larger envelope from home office that contained a very hefty packet inside.

Normally a package like that would make you happy; it was a sign that one of your favorite weeks of the year was approaching: planogram week. It was, quite honestly, not only your favorite week but your favorite part of the job altogether. More than your team, more than your discount...certainly more than helping customers.

Summer was coming to an end, which meant all of the trendy accessories would make way for backpacks, water bottles, notebooks, and lunch boxes. Things that stayed hidden away for 75% of the year, but were suddenly at the forefront of every parent and pre-teen's mind as they got ready to look their best on the first day of school.

Today, however, you suddenly felt a sense of dread as you opened the package because a planogram meant that you would have to schedule an overnight shift on the one night of the week that the mall closed early.

Sunday Night.

Date Night with Eddie.

Eddie's favorite night. And yours.

Your favorite part of your job encroached on what was becoming an essential part of your life.

So you spiraled until your break because it was easier to worry and overthink than it was to just...communicate the fact that you might have to miss a Sunday and face the possibility that Eddie could be mad at you.

Unfortunately he seemed a little steamed right now because he thought you hadn't been listening to him.

His little grumpy face was cute though.

Why was this harder than having to call your team to ask if they were ok with an unexpected overnight shift? God damn it, you needed to get a grip.

“You weren’t listening to anything I said,” he repeated.

“Yes I was,” you insisted.

“What did I say then?”

“You nailed the solo.”

“And…”

“And you actually got a round of applause.”

“And?”

“And you need a new amp.”

“And?”

“Uhm… a-and…”

Shit…maybe you had delved a little bit too far.

Growing up with a big, loud family--including an overbearing mother and two annoying brothers--meant you had the innate ability to split your brain in half and listen to them while also worrying about your own shit.

However, thanks to the intensity of your worrying, that ability failed you.

You wracked your brain for a good 30 seconds until Eddie’s scowl turned into a wicked smile, and then you knew he was just being a jerk.

“You’re the worst,” you grumbled at him.

“Excuse me,” he placed a hand on his chest in fake affront and stumbled back a few steps to collapse against the side of the trash compactor. “I'm the worst? You agreed to Pickle and Bologna milkshakes and ignored your best friend. Not very metal, sweetheart."

"I just have a lot on my mind." You shook your head and sighed. "Sorry."

"Well it's a good thing that I am a great listener. Unlike someone."

Eddie pushed himself off the compactor, put his hand on your shoulder, and guided you back inside to the food court. You got your meals of choice and tucked yourselves into a table in the corner by the JCPenney entrance.

"Alright," he started with his mouth full of fries. "Tell dear old Eddie what's bothering you."

You swallowed a mouthful of food and took a deep breath.

It was now or never.

"Well...there's this big thing coming up at work...planogram...uh...floor set," you began. "And it's really important and after it's done...we'll get visitors from corporate and my boss will probably make a few visits to see how it's going. I just want to do really well."

"Well, you've been doing a good job so far right?" Eddie shrugged. "Why wouldn't they think so now?"

"I don't know, I don't wanna mess it up," you admitted. "I'm a new store manager. And a lot of the team never worked retail before. I literally cried my first floor set as a sales associate. It's tough."

"You're just giving yourself the yips. I do it all the time when we add a new song to the set list."

"Don't just say that to make me feel better."

"Last week I forgot how to do a G-chord," he crossed his heart. "Scouts honor."

"You were a Boy Scout?" you asked skeptically.

"Stop distracting me." He popped another French fry in his mouth in an exaggerated fashion. "What else?"

"Well...we have to schedule floor sets on a Sunday."

"Ok."

"After the store closes."

"...Oh."

"Yeah."

Eddie sipped his drink thoughtfully and stared at you with his abyss-like eyes; they didn't betray a single thought going through his head and it made you nervous.

And nervous meant that you didn't shut up.

"I mean I don't want to have to cancel our night out," you started with the word vomit. "It's just the way things are always done and you'll see one day if you still work at Tape World for long enough, that's one of those things that...I don't know, if you try to do things differently it always comes back to bite you in the ass.

"And I'm young and whenever we have a conference call to talk about sales...my DM doesn't let me forget that I'm a baby compared to everyone else and it's so frustrating because I feel like I can't even suggest anything new because it immediately is dismissed as naive. It's like they keep waiting for me to fail. So I wish...I wish I could make a change so we could keep our plans. Like if it was anything else I could make it work but I...this thing I just can't, you know?

"But...but...b-because I would have to work on Sunday overnight I would probably be off another day so if you're ok with it we can do something else? Maybe on...I don't think I could get Tuesday off because of everyone's availability...maybe Friday if your friends are cool with me crashing your club night. Or...you open on Saturdays. We could do Saturday night instead?"

The punctuation to the drawn out sentence was your labored breath and Eddie noisily sucking the dregs of his soda through the straw. Shithead that he was didn't even have the decency to do anything but continue watching you with his big dumb cute eyes.

"Weeellllll..." he started in a sing-song tone and then paused and sucked at the straw some more.

Could he just tell you to fuck off already so this wouldn't be as painful as it was?

"That really sucks you need to work overnight," he finished his thought with a grin and shoved his cup to the side. "Being in the mall after hours...sounds kinda creepy. Do you think there are ghosts?"

"Are you kidding me right now?" you deadpanned. "You let me go on and on like that for nothing?"

"It was funny."

"I hate you."

"You cherish me."

"It was painful." You groaned. "Like I think I'm sweating. My heart hurts Edward."

"Don't act like you've never let me do that before," he scoffed and rolled his eyes in an exaggerated fashion. You threw a fry at him. "Don't start what you can't finish sweetheart. One fry can turn into a food fight and I would hate to find out the hard way why I'm Hawkins High's food fighting champion."

"Ok so...Saturday night?" you asked. "This Saturday...are you doing anything?"

"Uh..." Eddie hesitated and sat up a little straighter. "I mean...no hot dates or anything. What did you have in mind?"

"Maybe just what we normally do?" you suggested. "Drive around, eat a bunch of junk food. Or if you want to come over to my place and I--"

"So, I have a confession to make," he interrupted you. "I actually do have plans on Saturday. More like...standing plans than anything. My uncle Wayne is off on Saturdays and we've always watched reruns on TV and ordered pizza. Family night or whatever. My mom used to do the same thing so...Wayne thought it would be...I dunno, good for stability or something.

"It's silly but I don't want to just ditch him without asking," Eddie explained and your heart melted.

Of course you didn't want to take time away from his family; you knew how important his uncle was to him.

"Oh...well that's ok...we can rain check for another day then or--"

"Why don't you just come over?" Eddie asked. "He won't mind. I am opening this Saturday so I'll be done by 5; you can get there in time for Wheel of Fortune. That way he can't yell at me when I try to solve the puzzles with lewd words." He mimics, what you assume is, Wayne's voice.

Eddie looked so eager that you immediately agreed.

Your heart stopped in your chest though.

Come over? And meet his uncle?

Sure...you'd already met Benny a few weeks ago...and yeah you'd thought of it like meeting someone from Eddie's family but...this was his actual family. What if you insulted his uncle or...or made yourself look stupid.

You needed to put your best foot forward. Make a good impression.

"How about..." your mouth started moving before your brain could catch up. "...instead of ordering pizza, I cook for you guys instead? I'll be off Saturday since I'm doing the overnight on Sunday. I can just bring everything over."

Eddie's eyes lit up and as he teased you about the impressive cooking skills that you had supposedly boasted about previously, all you could think was...

How did this situation get even more stressful?

---

The rest of the week leading up to Saturday had been overwhelming to say the least.

To you, food was life. Cooking for someone was everything that you could do to show them that you cared. How many hours had you spent with your grandma making cookies for neighbors at Christmas, or freezer meals when a distant relative had a baby, or a tray of something after a friend of the family had passed.

Food was love and friendship, and as much as what you had done for Eddie with the guitar had been a show of friendship...this meant so much more.

So you needed to hit a home run...or a bullseye...or whatever sports terminology signified that you won.

Which meant you'd spent some down time flipping through your grandma's old recipes that she had gifted you once upon a time--a thin, pocket-sized spiral notebook with a purple cover that was filled with her illegible handwriting and personal shorthand--and thinking of ideas that would be both impressive and hearty. You'd already changed your mind twice, and had made just as many trips to Bradleys for extra ingredients.

You'd also pestered Eddie several times through the course of the week to get his input without giving anything away.

"Does your uncle like cheese?"

"Of course he does."

"Some people don't."

"Would we get pizza every Saturday if we didn't like cheese?"

"There's some pizza that doesn't have cheese."

"Why the questions? Are you nervous sweetheart?"

And that was when he started to tease you. Every chance he got. Lunches, breaks, passing you on the way to the employee lot as you started a shift and he ended one.

He asked if you wanted their phone number so you could call Wayne and make kissy noises at each other for hours, if you wanted him to bring love letters home to save on stamps, and if you were planning to dress really nice for your date with his uncle.

"I'll be sure to grab extra chapstick for him so his lips are ready for you tomorrow," he laughed and leaned closer to make the biggest, noisiest smacking kiss noise in your ear as you waited for your break time cookies.

"You're an idiot," you rolled your eyes after he uttered the last one. "I don't want him to hate me because...what if he doesn't want me to hang around you anymore. I'd kind of lose my mind."

"Oh, uh," Eddie backed away a little bit and rubbed the back of his neck, then shoved his hands in his back pockets. "Wayne wouldn't do that. He's...a little bit of a grump, but he's harmless."

"Guess we know where you got it from," you muttered.

"I didn't know you were...actually worried," Eddie continued. "I'm sorry. But it'll be ok. Even if you...wore a potato sack and brought canned beans that we had to heat on the stove for dinner. He'll think you're great. Because you are."

You were both a little silent after that, Eddie staring at his feet bashfully as you felt your heart race and your head spin.

You finalized your plans that night when you got home and immediately started on your dessert, sure that it was all gonna be a hit with both Munsons.

It was gonna be great. Because Eddie thought you were great.

And Saturday, the doubt didn't creep on you at all. Not while you cooked, not as you packed your casserole dish and Tupperware into a large cooler bag, and not even as you drove across town, following Eddie's directions to Forest Hills without getting lost once.

It wasn't until you stepped out of your car and stared at the front door that you felt your stomach drop a little.

Those four cement steps might as well have been a thousand.

But...your sneakers only needed to crunch on the gravel before the door was thrown open and a slightly-breathless Eddie smiled at you...and then all the worry disappeared.

"Hey," he greeted. "D-did you need any help?"

"Yeah, if you don't mind," you shrugged.

He jogged down the steps in socked-feet and crossed to the passenger's side door of your car, talking a mile a minute as he reached in to grab your things.

"I, uh, got home an hour ago," he rambled. "The A/C at the store conked out...and then Paulie had me make a trash run before I left. Had a big shipment today. So if I'm still a little sweaty...that's why."

"You're fine," you laughed.

"Sorry."

"Don't worry. I've been cooking so I'm probably a little sweaty too. Lasagna and July...sort of don't go together that well."

He raced up the steps and held the door open for you.

"Lasagna? Oh the old man is gonna love you," Eddie chuckled.

You entered the Munson abode and were immediately hit by the strongest sense of home that you'd felt since...well, since you'd still been at home. Not necessarily that it was a place where you belonged, but...it was a place of belonging.

Mugs and hats and other memorabilia lined the walls, reminiscent of the tchotchkes that your mother stacked to high heaven on every available surface. The couch was a little faded but looked comfortable and soft as though you could sink into the cushions and disappear into a soft nether-realm.

Your grandpa had a couch like that. His spot sunk to the shape of his body. It was still your favorite place to sit when he wasn't already there. It was like a hug.

That was when your eyes found the armchair, molded around the shape of the man seated in it. He was older, a little weathered and greying, hairline receding, and even though he isn't smiling right now, the lines around his mouth were indication enough that he smiled quite a bit.

Just like his nephew.

"Uh, Wayne this is my friend from the mall," Eddie introduced you as he juggled your cooler bag and your large Tupperware to the kitchen counter. "The one I told you about. Works at the jewelry store."

"Nice to meet you," you smiled and held a hand out to him to shake. He took your hand in a firm grasp and as you shook his the way your grandfather taught you--to command respect and trust--his eyes narrowed.

"I had to hear about you through Rick, who heard about you through Benny," Wayne started. "And I haven't the slightest idea why my nephew thought he needed to keep you a secret; not the first girlfriend he's brought around--"

Eddie groaned something unintelligible from the kitchen and you fought the urge to break eye contact with Wayne so you could look at him.

"--but I just watched him run around for the past hour tidying up. And he's never done that before. So if you can help him keep the habit, you're alright in my book." Wayne smiled widely and let your hand go.

"Thank you," you chuckled nervously, suddenly realizing how silly it had been that you were even worried in the first place.

Eddie had been right.

You could never admit that to him.

"Even did the dishes," Wayne looked past you at Eddie. "He never does the dishes."

"W-we're having dinner," Eddie whined. "Gotta have clean plates."

The two of them bantered back and forth comfortably and you joined Eddie in the kitchen to get everything plated. There was a salad, buttery mashed potatoes, and of course your still-warm and gooey lasagna.

Eddie explained that it was Wayne's favorite that he rarely got to have homemade--

"Stoffers will do in a pinch," Wayne explained.

--and that you were already more loved than he was simply for making it, to which Wayne agreed. And he even pointed out the well-loved Garfield mug that he had gotten Wayne for Father's Day one year for that fact alone.

Eddie tried to protest when you took the dessert bowl from him to stow it away in the fridge until it was the appropriate time.

"I didn't even get to have cookies with you today," he reasoned. "Or a soda. See? I suffer when you're not working. How am I--a growing boy--supposed to reach my fullest potential without proper sustenance?"

You snorted and brought the plates out to the living area while Eddie trailed behind you.

"He's just grumpy because you're making him eat vegetables," Wayne chuckled as he took his plate. "A feat I have yet to achieve in 8 years. So if you weren't already in my good books, you are now."

Dinner passed relatively uneventfully at first. You and Eddie sat on the couch--which was just as comfy as you thought it would be--as Wayne occupied the armchair. They inhaled their first helping and showered you with compliments. Eddie begrudgingly admitted that your cooking was as good as you had bragged, and even said the dressing on your salad "wasn't Ranch but was still pretty tasty."

As Eddie had told you days ago, Wheel of Fortune started promptly at 7:30 and he and Wayne tried to solve as many puzzles as possible around mouthfuls of food. They teased each other when their guesses were particularly ridiculous, and celebrated when they got one right.

You solved a long puzzle correctly--your only contribution to their little competition--before there were very many tiles revealed on the board and Eddie patted your thigh in praise when you got it right with a soft "that's my girl" that nearly had you drop your plate.

When Wheel ended, Wayne stood up to grab seconds for himself and Eddie and a couple of beers for you all. Before he sat back down he grabbed a tape from a basket beside the television and popped it into the VCR.

"I hope you don't mind," he said sheepishly. "I like the background noise and Love Boat doesn't start til 9."

As the static on the screen cleared, you were treated to a good look of a Map to Illustrate the Ponderosa in Nevada.

"Mind? I love Bonanza," you laughed, and Eddie groaned beside you.

"No I already have to endure Wayne and Rick and their western reruns, and now you too?"

Conversation then turned to you. Turned to the usual stuff that you talked about when you met someone new. And you really...didn't like talking about yourself. The middle child and the only girl with two strong-willed brothers and parents that liked to pick and pick and pick at every imperfection; it was ingrained in you.

Thankfully, Eddie seemed to really like to talk to you, at you, about you.

"I work at Claire's. We do like...ear piercing and cute accessories for kids."

"She works there? She's the store manager. And the youngest one in the company. Right? Is that...no...in the district. Anyway..."

And where you faltered, he picked up the reins.

"I mean it's just community college. Everyone graduates. I'm not smart or anything."

"Are you shitting me right now? Sweetheart I can't even graduate high school."

Eagerly.

"And there was this one time, I shit you not Wayne," Eddie's hands mimed as he tried to tell his story. "She literally balanced on one foot on the top rung of a ladder. Had to have been...20 feet high...to get this kitten that was stuck on top of the bailer. How it got there? I couldn't tell you."

"It was not the top rung."

"It was."

"It wasn't 20 feet!"

"Let me tell the story."

"I'm supposed to be telling the story," you laughed at him.

"Ok, you're right, but you weren't telling it good enough," Eddie argued. "You have to emphasize."

"He means fib," Wayne clarified.

"I mean...bend the truth for entertainment purposes only," Eddie explained rapidly.

Eventually dinner was done and it was time for dessert, which Eddie eagerly followed you into the kitchen for.

"How am I doing?" you asked nervously as you rummaged in the fridge.

"You're doing great. How many times do I have to tell you he would like you?" he huffed good-naturedly.

"I don't know, I just needed reassurance."

"Are you kidding me?" he scoffed. "You're doing great. I'm sure he'll be asking me when the next time you'll be over is so he can maybe get some more lasagna. He doesn't just let anyone watch A Rose for Lotta with him. You're special."

"Am I?"

"You're special to me."

You looked up at Eddie a little shocked and he smiled sheepishly and shrugged.

You couldn't get your hopes up. You just...couldn't.

"What's taking so long in there?" Wayne asked as he ejected the tape from the VCR so he could flip to ABC. You both looked over and found him watching you with a smirk and a twinkle in his eye.

"I dunno," Eddie replied petulantly. "Someone's withholding my reward."

You rolled your eyes and grabbed another set of plates from the drying rack by the sink. You opened your container to reveal the fluffy green mounds of pudding and whipped cream and marshmallows studded with bright maraschino cherries.

"Sweetheart, you didn't," Eddie grabbed you by the shoulders and leaned over to look into the Tupperware.

"I did," you beamed.

The perfect end to a great night.

Because you might not have known that lasagna was Wayne's favorite.

But you knew that Watergate salad was Eddie's.

---

It was late by the time Eddie walked you out to your car, way past your usual bedtime, and later than you should have been up especially considering that you would be doing the overnight tomorrow.

The dessert had been consumed in its entirety; once you and Wayne had your fill, Eddie ate the remainder out of the bowl looking, quite literally, like a kid in a candy store. And as Captain Stubing and Doc Bricker bickered aboard the Pacific Princess, you began dozing on Eddie's shoulder.

He shook you awake and you said your goodbyes to Wayne.

"You're welcome anytime," he insisted as you headed to the door. "Lasagna or no. Don't let Ed trick you into spoiling us. He's still young but my waistband can't handle it."

And now you were standing with Eddie, the driver's side door between you as you sort of refused to get in and drive away. It was a real Midwest Goodbye.

"I'll see you at work..." you fumbled over your words as you tried to think of the next time you'd actually get to see him. You had the overnight tomorrow, and you'd be off Monday. Eddie would be off Tuesday which meant... "Oh god, well...Wednesday? That seems so far away."

"It doesn't have to be Wednesday," Eddie shrugged. "What if I brought you breakfast on Monday? After your floor set is over?"

"God that's gonna be so early for you," you dismissed his idea.

"So? You just made us the best dinner and there's leftovers for a few days, which you didn't want. Let me get you breakfast."

"I don't want to put you out."

The two of you bickered back and forth for a minute before you put your foot down and told him to sleep in because he had to close on Monday night.

"Thanks though," you said. "This was nice. Family dinner at home. It was really nice. Makes me a little homesick but...I guess Hawkins is my home for now."

"Hey, of course, any time," Eddie replied. He looked pensive for a second and then turned so he didn't have to look at you. Like he was hesitant about what you would say or think. "We don't...I mean I guess what I mean is...I really enjoy hanging out on Sundays and I know this is sort of a one-off thing. But...you know we don't only have to hang out on Sundays. We can do...I mean...have dinner again sometimes or meet you after work even if I'm off...or see a movie again...get something from Family Video or..."

"You wanna hang out with me more?" you cut into his rambling.

"Yeah, why not?"

"Friends hang out all the time but..." You shrugged. "Don't...skip out on...I mean I guess I don't know what it is you do with the guys outside of band practice and DnD. Don't skip out on them just for me."

"No, hey now, wait," Eddie held his hand out to stop you. "Those turds already see me all the time and are gonna see me more once school's back in session. And...I'll probably work less so...I'll take any time with you now that I can get."

"Alright." You beamed.

"Alright." He mirrored you. "More non-Sunday hangouts."

You agreed and he held out his pinky. You immediately hooked yours into it.

“See you Wednesday sweetheart,” Eddie said his farewell. “Don’t dream of me too much.”

---

"Alright guys, it's almost 7am, time to clean up," you announced to your overnight crew with a clap of your hands.

It had been a fun but trying night, but ultimately successful.

Saturday had been perfect but your whole Sunday routine had already been thrown off and you spent a majority of your day sleeping and cleaning and wondering what Eddie was getting up to at work.

As you predicted, everyone was more than a little confused by the planogram booklet but you were a patient teacher. Everyone thought they had an eye for store layout until they were faced with twenty shipment boxes of pencil cases and locker decor. You had to talk a few of them down from near-panics several times throughout the night.

Over the course of the floorset, side ponytails became even more askew than normal, a few pairs of shoes got kicked into a pile by the gate, and everyone turned into tired, sweaty messes.

To keep morale up, you had insisted on everyone bringing a favorite tape that alternated in the shop radio and you had stocked up at Bradley's with an assortment of sugary snacks and drinks for the break room. Thankfully, the treats had prevented anyone from bursting into tears or threatening to quit, as you had witnessed countless times during your time working in retail.

You really channeled Eddie's sweet tooth when making your choices and it had paid off.

But after 12 hours of unpacking, stacking, dusting, shifting, and sliding, you were all ready to go home.

You ushered everyone out of the store and locked the gate behind you, and as the group walked toward the employee exit, excitement had returned. Pride for a seemingly-impossible task completed.

"The store looks so good! Mindy is gonna shit herself when she comes in to open."

"Oh my god, do you think we're gonna have a store visit? Can you let me know what they think of the hair wall?"

"We're gonna make so many sales! Who can say no to that unicorn backpack?"

You entertained their conversation but when you set foot outside and saw a familiar van parked next to your car, you lost all ability to speak.

He had said he was gonna surprise you with breakfast...but you told him not to. Of course he didn't listen; it had you rolling your eyes in annoyed amusement.

God you knew everyone was a gossip, this was gonna get to Mindy and then she was gonna give you an earful. She already let you have it when she heard about your invitation to dinner.

You quickly thanked your team and ushered them to their cars before you meandered towards yours. You ignored the questioning looks that they shot you as you hesitated to get into your car but you waved goodbye as they drove away.

When the last car left the lot, you immediately stormed over to the passenger's side door of the van and threw it open to find a McDonald's bag on the seat, two coffees in the cupholders, and a tired-eyed Eddie in the driver's seat. His fingers tapped on the steering wheel in time with Kiss's Beth.

"I'm always somewhere else," he turned his upper body towards you dramatically and began serenading you. "And you're always there alone."

"Unbelievable," you scoffed at him.

"Just a few more hours and I'll be right home to you. I think I hear them calling. Oh Beth what can I do?" He slapped his hands against the steering wheel dramatically. "Beth what can I do?"

You climbed into the passengers seat, closed the door behind you, and opened the McDonalds bag to the delightful smell of hot, fresh, crispy hash browns and egg McMuffins.

"If it's not obvious," Eddie announced as he reached across the van to shove his hand into the bag for a hash brown of his own. "I'm Beth in this scenario because you left me alone for hours and hours and hours last night."

"Oh yeah?"

"Yeah I got into all sorts of trouble."

“I told you not to bring breakfast.”

“I wanted to surprise you.”

"You didn't need to come if you were tired."

"I wanted to and I pretty much do whatever I want anyways," he insisted, and then thankfully focused on his food as you felt your face heat up.

"Well, if you'd like to know, me and the boys were not actually playing all night," you remarked and dug the sandwiches out of the brown bag. You handed one to Eddie, whose mouth was already full of salty, potatoey goodness after he'd shoved the hash brown in one piece. His cheeks were all round and full like a chipmunks and you held back a giggle.

God he was too cute. And he brought you breakfast after a long overnight shift. And he had called you his girl and told you you were special. How were you supposed to stop yourself from having a crush on him if this was...just how he was?

The two of you got to talking about your night, about his Sunday shift, about what you did before work, about what he did after it. And it was nice.

And as you sat there watching him slurp the hot coffee and watch the sparse traffic around the mall dive, you finally found the right words and the strength not to make an absolute fool of yourself.

"This was really nice of you, Eddie. You're wonderful."

He put his hand on his chest and looked a little sheepish.

"I'm wonderful?"

"You're wonderful to me."

---

Next Part: Corrective Action

The tag list is currently suspended.

[cdelphiki]

Jason and the Three Terrors spoilers

So I got an ask I'm going to put under a spoiler to answer! I'm going to include a snippet of my draft of a side story I'll post eventually, showing what's going on in Gotham right now!

HI I LOVE YOUR COMMENTS. Okay, to answer: We do!!!!! I don't now how much of the details will be put into the actual main story, since it's all Jason's POV, but I am working on a side story that's from Tim's POV. I might have it just be one "big" fic where I also have Bruce and Clark's POV and it's basically just jumping through part II showing what's going on with all them. Also Alfred will be preparing rooms for them all, just not quite yet. Bruce knows the kids won't be coming to him yet, but he and Clark are both working toward the four of them moving to Gotham to be with Bruce.

Tim basically figures it all out, Bruce had left the case to him to deal with, and Tim figures out Clark is in contact with the defectors pretty quickly, and once he makes the connection to Jason and Damian being Bruce's kid, he brings all the info to Bruce and Bruce is PISSED lmao. Anyway here's a small snipped from Tim doing the detective work: Its the most polished part I have, but it's still a rough draft. (This takes place on either Friday or Saturday morning, when Tim went over to Clark's house that same Saturday morning.)

-

Tim finally tracked down the League kids. It was surprisingly difficult. Whoever was on their side was good, because the paper trail of them going through airport security was wiped almost immediately after they left the airport. Tim couldn’t find any close up photos of them anywhere.

So it took him a week to figure out where they’d gone, but once he finally figured that out, it didn't take too long to track them down.

They’d bought train tickets to Metropolis, and Tim found where the teenager had exchanged his fake New York drivers license for a real Delaware one. Which was pretty damn impressive.

But it meant Tim had a clear photo of him.

And his first name.

And honestly? Tim was very, very confused.

Because this kid looked exactly like Jason Todd, just bigger, with straighter hair, and a white streak in his hair.

But Jason was dead.

Bruce grieved him way too hard for that to be fake. Jason was definitely dead.

But this kid went by the name Jason… Jason Johnson. Which was Jason Todd’s adoptive mother’s maiden name.

And the eyes were exact.

Tim had run them through a program to compare them to Jason Todd’s and, well. It said exact match. Same with a facial recognition.

When a new photo popped up on his newly created alert, Tim easily pulled the Daily Planet employment records and was able to double confirm. This definitely looked like Jason Todd.

But if he was Jason, why hadn’t he come to Bruce?

Was the League threatening him? Was he afraid to come to Bruce because of that? He’d gone to Metropolis, which was close. Did he know that the bats would figure it out, find him, and help him?

Tim was honestly ready to go straight to Bruce with all this, but he hesitated. Jason’s birthday was coming up in a little over a month, and Bruce was not handling it well.

If Tim was wrong here…

So Tim needed to gather more evidence.

The first thing he did was enlist Kon.

“Tim why are we doing this,” Conner asked, after he’d flown the two of them to Gotham Cemetery. It was just before dawn, so the cemetery was completely abandoned, giving them perfect privacy.

And it was way too early for Bruce to be awake, so he wouldn’t notice what Tim was doing, either.

“I have a hunch, okay?” Tim said, as he walked the last few paces over to the gravestone that said Jason Todd.

Conner stayed back where he landed and said, uncertainly, “This feels wrong. Isn’t it wrong? Like… grave robbing?”

“It’s not wrong,” Tim shot back, “We aren’t digging him up. Just looking.”

“What if I don't want to look?” Kon whined back.

Which was fair enough. Tim didn’t want to look inside coffins, either. But this was necessary.

“If I’m right, there’s nothing to even look at,” he said, “It’s empty down there.” And if it wasn’t empty down there, then they were dealing with a clone.

But the clone clearly wasn’t doing what Ra’s wanted him to do, because he’d gone and stolen three kids right from under Ra’s nose.

Kon held his gaze another long moment, clearly hoping Tim would change his mind. When Tim held the gaze firmly, and didn’t budge, Kon dropped his shoulders and grimaced.

And, finally, looked down at the grave they were standing near. He took a deep breath, then really looked, and his eyes went wide.

“Damn,” Kon exhaled, “You’re right.”

Tim couldn’t help his grin.

“How are you right?”

“I don’t know,” Tim said, “that’s what I need to figure out next.”

[sechsviciado]

when doves cry

reaperken/touka ; written circa nov/dec 2022

no warnings or ratings really?

-

so after my slight reaperken/touka rambling yesterday i figured that i really have nothing to lose from posting this small snippet of a fic (oneshot??) thats been sitting in my google drafts for nearly the past two years; if this is crappy i can always just delete it but ive wanted to contribute a bit more to keep tokyo ghoul tumblr alive so i figure why not?

i felt so smart when i came up with the title since ken was a dove during that entire reaper arc until the events of cochlea. i didnt really pay attention to prince's lyrics in the song but looking back at it now i guess some apply? not really any inspiration was gained from it though, i just grew up with music from the 60s-90s so the title kind of came to my mind and it happened to be a prince reference. not really any ratings or warnings yet?? its nowhere near finished and im not sure if ill even finish it because i feel my writing heavily lacks.

anyway, without further ado

how many months had it been?

it had been months — years — since he recalled feeling this exact way. of course, haise had felt this way too, but it would never compare to the feelings he had for her before that brief period of time where he had lost recognition of everything and everyone who once meant something to him. ironically, it's when he felt most at peace with the butterflies in his stomach, beating against his rib cage and the cage surrounding the longing which could never be released. he’s regained his memories now, but he knew something was different within him even when he laid his glassy eyes on her again on that first visit to :re as sasaki haise. why did he feel so entrapped and yet so wrongly distant even when he had no recollection of her prior on that first visit to the cafe?

it would never be the same.

it would never compare to the feeling of falling in love with her and the realization that came with it. the realization that left him in a state of both a mix of surprise and agitation for days and with a feeling that could only be described as his heart skipping a beat and yet crumbling at the same time. it would never happen, would it? he had chosen to face that reality when he was still his old self, naive and too ashamed of his actions to actually face her after all the pain he caused her as a result of the pain which engulfed his entire life, too. too ashamed to accept his new reality, hiding behind his eyepatch — too ashamed to admit he had fallen in love so easily. he wasn't any different now.

haise may have fallen in love with her through the lens of a reborn figure with a fresh start and no boundaries to stand behind (apart from his obvious shyness and the weird sense of familiarity), but it just occurred by fate. the same fate that had snatched him from her years prior had found a way to bring him back into her arms and make him belong to her once again. he can't help but believe that maybe there was some future destined between them; the embittered part of his heart and soul makes him realize even that destiny would probably be cursed or filled with further strife.

though he supposed that didn't matter now.

not when he was even more distant from her than when he was an amnesiac with no recollection of her apart from the same old feeling of confusing comfort and longing. it's humorous and yet painful to think about how low he'd fallen in this aspect, not even being able to face her once again. despite his older age, he was still just a boy when it came to this same ancient rush, wasn't he? it doesn't matter. she surely didn't want anything to do with him anyways, especially not after everything that he's done. he's betrayed her and everyone who was once a part of him once again, and he’s chosen to accept that painful reality ever since he vowed to stop dreaming and flung tsukiyama off that building. facades all break down eventually.

though he supposed that didn't matter now, either.

he’d be disposed of soon enough before any of this could matter at all — before hinami was to be the one to disappear from the purgatory that was life as a ghoul. there was no heaven and there was no hell; there was no afterlife. heaven was bliss and safety on earth while hell was anguish and pain.

it was selfish of him to hope touka would feel any sort of pain after all of the grief and rage he's put her through time and time again, but he hoped he'd at least be remembered by the person he felt he loved most in this lifetime — the one who hadn't thrown him aside but who had instead built a nest for him as if though her life depended on it. he can't help but wonder… he’s had everyone he's ever known and cared for snatched from his hands by the same twisted fate that led him to await his upcoming death, he doesn't know if the puddle of both coldness and warmth in his stomach is either fear or love.

he'd truly cherish any memory he had of her before he’d be killed.

he vaguely remembers telling her, years ago, that he'd be sad if she died; he just hopes she would be saddened at his death, too.

[britcision]

Eeeeh it was WIP Wednesday… and I’m thirsty for attention, so have a snippet from chapter two of Danny Fenton, Dead and Loving it!

(And I had to check I could paste obscene amounts of words from my notes into tumblr, since I’m not writing this in drafts for now - I lost too many sections to not hitting ‘save’ before putting my phone down)

Prompt and First chapter! (I guess I cannot make neat links on mobile, woe is me)

And the fic on AO3

@welcometosasakiworld @kyrianclawraith

@someonebored0100 @stealingyourbones

@starkcravingmad @frostedthroughghost

@akikoyuii @rainbowbunny0159

@littlefeather345 @violet-catsarelife

@serasvictoria02 @wolfjackle @blacksea21090 @secretdestinywerewolf

————————

“Hang on a second, does that mean your ghost writer friend is also an actual ghost?” Because yeah, he had googled book collectors around Gotham and came up blank.

Danny took a moment to work out what he meant, then perked up and nodded.

“Oh, yeah! That’s his actual name too, I’m not sure he was ever a living person, and I wasn’t kidding when I said he had every book ever written. A lotta first editions too. I think he’s a spirit of literature?”

Jason took a quick peek around to see if any giant and possibly book shaped palaces had appeared.

Place was covered in floating islands and purple doors, there was a chance.

“Could we… could you introduce me?” Cuz he wasn’t gonna actually ask if Jane Austen was a ghost, not on his first day.

He had some damn self control. Even if the pit was fucking purring in the back of his head and this whole weird place felt more like home than anywhere he’d been before.

Flying beside him, Danny nodded cheerfully and shot him a thumbs up.

“Oh hell yeah, he needs more friends. Probably not today though, he’s not really around this part of the Zone, and we wanna make it to the Far Frozen and back before New Years. Next time,” he added before Jason could even begin to feel disappointed.

He’d known the odds of heading right there weren’t great. Fuck, he wouldn’t have wanted to; it was just hard to remember they were here to get the pit out when it was filling him with a buzzing, humming contentment down to his toes.

Part of him wanted to be a whole lot more suspicious. Did not like how easy it was to trust Danny, to relax into this undead realm.

But it was usually the pit that nagged at him not to trust anyone. And the pit was in heaven, and Jason had spent so long fighting that constant suspicion.

If things went as well as he hoped… well, he wasn’t gonna be going easy on any of the assholes fucking with his turf.

But being able to talk to the bats without the pit’s constant paranoia… yeah, he did a little hope he’d be a bit tighter lipped.

Feelings just kept spilling out of him around Danny, apparently literally if what the kid told him about his core was to be believed.

Jason could feel enough of Danny’s emotions in return to know the kid wasn’t lying. Hopefully that was what made him trust him.

Today, he nodded and looked around.

“So, the Far Frozen. Called that because it’s far?” He asked casually, definitely not letting on any concerns.

Flying hadn’t been hard so far, but he had no idea how long this was going to work. He couldn’t even tell if it was using a muscle, but it was sure as shit one he hadn’t used before.

Danny snickered and shrugged, clearly not even a little concerned.

“Well, I opened the portal pretty close in this case, but yeah, it’s far from the more populated areas of the zone. The yetis like it, it means they can keep to themselves.”

This was kind of the problem with Danny, Jason was coming to realise.

He’d told Jason where in the zone they were going, and why. They needed to see a guy called Frostbite, because he knew the most about ghost biology.

He’d probably know what to do about Jason’s pit problem, and what Danny and Jason could do to deal with the pits themselves. Fun, exciting, Jason was 1000% up for that.

Fucking yetis had not come up.

“The what?” He asked, striving for nonchalance and wondering again if he shouldn’t have shot someone a text before leaving.

And potentially never being seen again.

Danny hesitated for a moment, brows furrowing.

There was definitely more snow ahead than there had been behind.

“I totally mentioned the yetis?” Danny said carefully, like that would somehow make it true.

Jason stifled a snicker.

“You did not mention yetis. You mentioned ghosts.”

“Yeah, they’re ghost yetis.”

“That doesn’t actually make it any better, y’know? The yeti part is still kinda important.”

Not that Jason would be hugely surprised to find an alive yeti at some point. The world had a habit of saving up its weirdest bullshit to dish out onto him.

At least he wasn’t Constantine.

Danny pulled a face and shrugged, turning so he was flying backwards.

“Well, I mentioned it now? They’re yetis. So is Frostbite, but he’s like, bigger. And their leader. I mentioned that part, right?” Danny asked hopefully.

It was pretty clearly a fair question.

Jason nodded, scanning through what he’d been told so far.

“Yeah, and that they had the ghost hospital? I guess it’s a good thing as ghosts we’re not gonna feel the cold,” Jason added idly, glancing at their increasingly frosty surroundings.

He could feel the temperature dipping, sure, but nothing serious. They hadn’t even grabbed coats.

Danny stopped flying so quickly that Jason actually overshot him and had to turn, coming back to rejoin his guide. Who looked guilty.

Jason pulled on his best deadpan face.

“Let me guess. You definitely mentioned it?” He asked dryly.

Danny groaned and slapped himself in the face, then dragged his hand slowly free.

“Okay this one’s totally not my fault? I mean. I don’t need a coat there? And usually if anyone else comes with me, we have the Spectre Speeder, and it always has coats, so it’s not like we pack?”

He gave Jason a sheepish smile, half wincing like he expected a punch.

Jason did consider it, but not seriously.

“Okay, focus up Danny. What do we need to do? How cold am I gonna get?” Cuz the longer they were sitting still, the more the chill was creeping in.

Danny let out another lingering groan then closed his eyes, calculating.

“Okay… so I can call Frostbite when we get a bit closer, and he can come meet us, and he’ll have some spare coats? And I don’t think you can technically freeze to death anymore, but you don’t have a core? So I dunno.”

Jason took a deep breath of his own, fighting a half smile. Good to know he wasn’t the only one with a bad habit of rushing in.

But even he tried to be ready for everything.

“Great. Love this plan. Especially the part where I probably can’t freeze to death,” Jason snarked.

Danny squinted at him.

“Look, it’s better than my other plan, which is I freeze you solid in my ghost ice and tow you the rest of the way. You wanna show up walking and talking or in an iceberg?”

The fact that he seemed to be serious probably should have concerned Jason more, but he was having fun.

Just imagine, Jason Todd as the responsible one in a superhero team up. Dickie would be so proud.

It’d be just like his old Robin days, except that suit was thermally regulated out the ass.

“Ooh, frozen wastes or frozen in iceberg, I’m definitely seeing the difference. Let’s just get moving so you can call your buddy before I turn into a popsicle.”

Danny stuck his tongue out at Jason, but did indeed get moving again.

“Hey, both of those are still better than our last option,” he snarked back, and maybe Jason was imagining it but they were kinda going faster.

Lucky for Jason, apparently it was willpower that made you fly in the Ghost Zone, and being a stubborn bitch had always been his stock in trade.

“Oh gee, what’s the last option? Shoot ourselves from a catapult? Build a snowman and have it carry us? Or do we close our eyes real tight and wish ourselves there?” Jason asked as sweetly as he could.

Made Danny laugh anyway, before his expression became deadly serious.

“You’re literally wishing your way there right now, smartass, but no. The last option is we call my regent and he stops time and you spend the next eighty relative years of your life listening to lectures about why I need to be fully crowned.”

Which did sound pretty last-resort-y, in Jason’s opinion. And raised an important question.

“Why are you so against being fully crowned? You seem pretty in touch with all the king shit.” Certainly willing enough to talk about it, although now that Jason thought about it, mostly to complain.

Danny pulled another reluctant face.

“Just cuz I know I can’t get out of it doesn’t mean I gotta give myself up right away. The last king was a bloodthirsty tyrant, in an enchanted sleep for thousands of years. Do you have any idea how much paperwork that stacked up?”

Danny let out a shudder that had nothing to do with the increasing cold. Thinking to the amount of report forms he’d be facing if B found out about this particular jaunt, Jason joined him.

“Yeah, okay, that sounds like it sucks,” he agreed, and Danny shot him a relieved grin.

“Right? Like, I want to live my actual life first. Do something more than struggle through college and fight ghosts. Everything worked just fine while the other guy was in prison, so what’s the rush?”

They flew in silence for a moment, Jason struggling with an entirely unexpected lump in his throat.

Danny broke it, drifting closer until their shoulders bumped.

“Sorry man. Didn’t think.”

There was a perfect snappy comeback in there about it not being the first time, but Jason didn’t have it in him. He managed a nod and gentle bump back.

It was getting cold enough now that the moisture on his cheeks stung.

From condensation. Or air resistance or something.

The Ghost Zone had high humidity, explained all of the snow.

They continued in silence for a while, then Danny sighed and slowed to a stop once more. Jason copied a little more reluctantly, brushing trails of ice from his face.

“Okay so this is gonna be just, stupid loud?” Danny said with a slightly strained cheerfulness, like they’d never stopped bantering. “You’ll probably wanna put your hands over your ears.”

Jason complied, wondering just how literal the “call” part of Danny calling ahead was gonna be. Stupid loud implied it wouldn’t be on a cellphone.

He’d not had any messages since leaving Gotham actually, and it had been a couple of hours. He should probably check…

He clapped his hands back over his ears just in time as Danny sucked in a huge breath and bellowed like a thunderstorm.

“HEY FROSTY! PHANTOM INCOMING, BROUGHT A FRIEND. HE NEEDS A COAT!”

And then Danny gave Jason a cheery grin and nodded in the direction they’d been travelling as he cautiously removed his hands.

“He can’t get quite that loud, so we’ll have to get closer before we can hear him. Might as well keep going, right?”

Jason took another moment just to stare at the ghost. It was beginning to actually kick in that… yeah. Danny wasn’t human.

And Jason knew plenty of metahumans, people with powers. He knew Black Canary, so what the line should be is a bit fuzzy.

But.

Danny’s not fully human, not anymore. So what the hell was Jason?

The exact same asshole he was yesterday, obviously. Just with… well, his baggage compartment had already been overstuffed.

Even the thought of getting to dump the pit baggage meant that even if he was now a zombie or a ghost or whatever that was still a net loss unless he had to eat people.

Which, again, what the fuck was his life?

He almost laughed, but didn’t want to try explaining that thought process to anyone else, even if the odds were pretty good Danny’s life… existence was at least a little fucked.

He gave a smile instead, nodding and following Danny’s lead off into the frost.

Doing absolutely nothing to reassure him, Jason was no longer sure it was reflections off the ice now catching the corner of his eye.

The longer they were in the Ghost Zone, the more he kept thinking he saw stars passing across the black of Danny’s suit.

***

Frostbite did in fact come to meet them, and did in fact bring Jason a coat. The fact that said coat REALLY looked like it came from a yeti…

Well, Danny had long decided never to ask, and Jason was following his lead today. His new friend was all wrapped up again, and wasn’t even shivering anymore!

Yeah. Danny fucked up.

And he also felt a little bad even after Jason told him it was fine, a damnably cocky smirk on his lips. It felt like he’d been holding onto that “Not the first thing you’ve conveniently forgotten” line for a while.

Which, to be fair, they’d met twice ever, so how the fuck would Jason know?

Just because it was accurate didn’t mean he had to say it.

They’d had to make quite a trek back to the depths of the Far Frozen along with Frostbite since the yeti had come to meet them, but they’d made good use of the time.

Frostbite still understood more about ghost biology and even specifically halfa biology than Danny himself did, and he’d immediately seen something was up with Jason.

Reassuring him that Jason wasn’t actually fading and that his core just hadn’t formed yet hadn’t taken long; apparently, yetis could smell core formation.

Delightful fucked up information Danny wished he’d never learned, but at least he’d been right.

Surrounded by the ambient ectoplasm of the Ghost Zone, Jason’s core was already coming along in fits and bounds. Something which had alarmed Jason to hear too, but hey.

About half of his ghost problems were probably related to that slow forming core, and the other half…

Yeah. Frostbite had a Lot of questions about the Lazarus Pits. And Jason had basically nothing by way of answers beyond what he’d already told Danny.

Which, aww, he’d really been putting everything he had on the table, which was nice. The longer they spent together, the more Danny figured Jason hadn’t been honest with anyone in a while.

He kept getting this surprised look on his face, these moments where he stopped like he couldn’t believe what he was saying. Like he thought he should be more careful.

Danny could relate. Frostbite was weirdly easy to share things with, even if Danny couldn’t get him to stop calling him Great One.

The second Danny had protested, Jason got a real sneaky grin on his face that Danny wasn’t sure he liked. He knew a Bastard Little Brother face from his mirror.

Jason being older than him? Meant nothing.

For now though, they’d made it to the medical center and Jason was looking at the scanning pods with a sceptical but weirdly unsurprised eye.

Danny still hadn’t stopped making Star Trek jokes when he saw them, but. Robin. What the fuck did Batman have access to?

Frostbite gave them both a very proud smile, patting the tube fondly.

“With this, we shall determine how much corrupted ectoplasm is within you, and how best to separate your mind from its affects. Already some of it is being purged by contact with our Saviour, but for it not to be gone already shows there is a deeper problem,” the yeti explained happily.

Jason shot Danny another shit eating grin at “saviour” and Danny bit back a groan, making himself smile at Frostbite instead.

Insistent and slightly patronising hero worship aside, he really did like the guy. He always wanted to help, and usually could, which was a nice change.

“Yeah, about that? Do we know what I’m doing that’d change his corruption?” Because it’s not that he didn’t want to help too, but it might be easier if he knew how.

Frostbite gave Danny a cheerful pat next, sending the smaller ghost stumbling a little.

“Oh, some of it will happen merely from your presence, Great One. As the King of the realm, you have far more ectoplasm and it is far stronger, which will help Jason’s ectoplasm to heal on its own. But we must find the root for the problem to be solved.”

Jason chuckled and shook his head, stripping back out of the thick yeti coat.

“There’s always a catch, right? Is this gonna hurt?” It sounded like he expected the answer to be yes, and even Frostbite looked suddenly concerned.

“You should not feel anything at all, young Jason. Perhaps the feelings from your contaminated source will become stronger, but they are not negative at present?” It came out as a question, mostly tied to that concern.

And Danny could kinda see why; from everything Jason told them, he was usually only swamped by rage. Neither of his auras felt angry now, but the pit’s had jumped to betrayal pretty consistently every time it spiked.

Needing to be told that something wasn’t going to hurt him sort of pointed where those feelings might have come from.

Danny nudged closer on impulse, letting his own trust-reassurance-done this before wash gently over Jason’s aura.

[xovera-toz]

I was tagged in a WIP game by @whoopsididitdarker (who has some incredible snippets posted on this thread) where I have to find the words shut, controll, happy and hot inside the drafts.

Thank you for the tag!

Shut is from the Tome of the Unknown (ch3) draft, which is bound to get rewritten any minute now. No I'm not telling lol.

“Curious, isn’t it?” Beatrice asked. “Doesn’t seem too realistic.” Wirt felt his soul trying to leave his body and knock into his skull. “H-hey!” He shut the book with a resolute bang. “You- you-” “Yes, I’ve been reading with you for quite a while now. Yes, Greg is okay- if you ever meant to ask. No, the Beast isn’t some sadist who hunts people for sport.” She huffed. “There. Good for you.” Wirt gaped. “But-”

Controll just... does not happen in my drafts, somehow. So we're skipping that.

Happy is from Séance with a cat. I've been staring this file down for a few months now but it's just not writing itself. Would be part of a series of works about Wirt's schoollife, if ever finished.

He should’ve chosen German. They learned boring old grammar and vocabulary. He would’ve been right at home. “My friend has told me she has an excellent class with a curiosity for the supernatural.” She smiled. “I am very happy to demonstrate.” Wirt’s mind, in a desperate attempt to delay the inevitable, wandered over her form. She didn’t look much like a medium, with her long dress and fine boots. More like a large. “Thank you, thank you.” Mrs Klopfer clapped from her perch on the desk. She gave the cat a friendly pat. He seemed to tolerate it. “They’re quite the bunch, let me tell you. I’ve got a collection of stories written by them that would be right up your alley.” So that’s where all their essays disappeared to.

And finally, hot! To make up for the one missed word, I'll extend this so it makes more sense. From the draft The lost ones, which is a crossover idea with Little Nightmares.

So far his journey is uninterrupted, but there’s an uncomfortable hot feeling that’s nestled under his lungs. He tries telling himself it’s because he’s pushing himself to keep moving forward, but that’s not quite it. Exhaustion does not feel like building pressure. It does not feel like a ticking bomb. Unsurprisingly, he survives his first ten minutes in this strange place with pure, dumb luck. [...]

This is the point where one of his shoes decides to say goodbye and slips off his foot. The shoelaces must have untied while he wasn’t watching, he’ll muse later. But right now he has bigger fish to fry. As soon as the shoe hits the pile of (still oversized) leaves, a metallic shrill hits the boy’s ears. He barely has time to flinch as hidden claws spasm, tearing his shoe to shreds as they launch up, up, up until they’re higher than he is- before the trap comes crashing down. 

So... yep, that's it.

Now I get to choose new words! Let's see... dark, skull, cold and giddy, because these words appear way too often when I'm writing.

Tagging @xathira @colorfullyminded @clairyclue @piscespixiewastaken and @francesthetraveller ! Have fun!

[rmd-writes]

Hi!! I always love what you write, so I'm very excited to see whatever this secret project is! But for now I do have a question about beta reading. How did you break into it? For a long time I have thought that I would enjoy doing that for different people, and I like that kind of fine-tooth comb editing work. But I am not a writer myself, just an avid fic enjoyer, so it feels like I can't quite bring as much to the table or meet other authors in a mutual kind of way. And I would never want to imply that an author needed that extra help or anything like that by just cold reaching out to them. Sorry that so much about me haha, I'm not necessarily looking for any advice (though if you had any I would certainly take it) but I am curious about how you got into it and what your experience has been like! Thank you!!

Hi nonnie! Thanks for the ask!

Can I just say to start with, that as an avid fic enjoyer, you absolutely can meet writers and other creators in a mutual way! Everyone has a place in fandom and something to contribute. It would be a very lonely world for creators if people weren't there to enjoy what we make (and hopefully tell us what they're liking those things). Personally, I appreciate readers so much and I especially love seeing regular names pop up in my inbox 💖💖

As for how I got into beta reading, it started back when a pal in Schitt's Creek fandom was writing a fic and worried that she was going to lose motivation to write it so I offered to sit in the doc and cheer her on. Please note that my motivation for doing so was entirely selfish because it meant that I had early access to the fic that I desperately wanted her to keep writing 😅 that eventually turned into me beta reading that fic (and all of her fics after that) for her.

I started beta reading more frequently in RWRB - I'd signed up as a beta reader for an event, but around the same time I also got to know other writers via a discord server. Sometimes people would ask for beta readers and I'd volunteer - I'm still a tiny bit dirty that @three-drink-amy snagged the beta rights to bleedingballroomfloor's baseball boyfriends fic right out from under my nose even though she is far better qualified than I to beta read a baseball fic - so much so that she helped me with the baseball scenes in my rwrb lawyer au lol (please know that I love them both dearly, there is no internet beef here).

You say that you don't want to reach out to writers and imply that they need assistance, but honestly, sliding into people's DMs and letting them know that either I'm very interested in X fic that they're writing and would they like someone to beta read it or that I'm available in general to help if they want it because I love their writing is how I've ended up beta reading for almost all of the writers I do that for!! People are generally just thankful to know that someone is interested in their writing! It can be a lonely hobby sometimes and having someone to live in your docs or send snippets to can help balance the need for wanting to talk about your fics with someone or bounce ideas off someone and wanting to keep what you're working on under wraps.

God, this is getting really long, I'm so sorry. I've been rambling and I'm not even sure that I answered your question.

You asked what my experience has been like and for the most part, it's been very positive! I get early access to fics (I often say that my favourite way to read a fic is in google docs 😂), I get to cheer my friends on and sometimes they even trust me enough to let me throw ideas at them and write them into their stories - sometimes I even get to do this without actually doing any editing and that's just as fun. I love beta reading, I think there's something really special about being trusted with the draft of someone's writing and getting to help make it the best that it can be (what that involves looks different for every writer I work with). 💖

And all of that doesn't even touch on how much I learn from the writers I've worked with - it's definitely helped me improve my own writing!

[ficbrish]

7 Snippets, 7 Mutuals

Thanks @rotschopf-thedrow for tagging me 🥰

Rules: Share seven snippets and pass onto seven mutuals.

Since I'm still chipping away at Kinktober 2023 😅 I have more than seven one shot drafts to choose from! 😀 Here we gooooo!!!!

I'll try to stick to the order they'll most likely be posted in.

Rating: Explicit, 18+ only

If you are not an adult, do not interact!

Astarion/Vistri

The Truth of It (Tav; Act I; Mountains - camp)

Prompt: Thighfucking

[[tw/cw: Suicide, cptsd, self-hate, teasing, explicit language]]

Like a child, she brought her knees up to her chest, and rested her chin in the crook of them. Her expression was thoughtful, not refusing. She looked like she was going to answer, and was just deciding how.

And then she didn’t. She just sat there and stared ahead.

The broken way he eventually said, “Oh, my darling…” pulled at the thread that was holding everything together.

“Don’t!”

Vistri was stiff as the rock around them. So unmoving, she was shaking.

“I’m sorry,” he said very calmly, “Is there anything I can do?”

She shut her eyes tight, and began rocking, “No. Stay there. Shush.”

He nodded and waited for her signal to do anything other than watch and freeze. The timelessness of the hells fell over their heads. Gravity felt steeper. Now was forever.

“Okay,” her voice broke the spell, and she looked up at him, nodding, to repeat, “Okay.”

Astarion flew around her, and for the first time outside of a whoopsie in battle, held her so tight for the sake of his own aching heart. He kissed the top of her head reflexively. He warmed her back with one hand and cradled her face against his neck with the other.

“I’m so sorry,” he muttered senselessly, “I’m so sorry.” He had no idea whether he was apologizing for whatever she couldn’t say, or himself. Perhaps both. Perhaps a bit more for his own wrongdoing.

Only it didn’t feel wrong. And that scared him. Frightened him.

Vistri knew she was crying but couldn’t feel herself doing so. She knew she was being held by him, but rather looked out and saw it from above and off to the side. She thought she looked terrible, and he looked so fine. Dashingly picturesque and tragic.

Nobody ever held her the way he did now. She never felt such warmth, and they were both such cold people. How was it possible? Was it some dream?

She started speaking, “We’re more similar than you know.”

Right then, Astarion predicted the gist of what she was about to say. He could tell just by the look on her face, and the way her tone itched at his brain, she had her own Cazador.

“Yeah,” was all he said, and it was so warm. Like an embrace, it held her softly and made her feel like something meant to be protected. She nodded tearfully into him. It was indulgent, but she knew she had to pull herself together. The home she found was rented, and Vistri could only borrow so much. Astarion had more to give, but it wasn’t for her. There was no way she’d be one of the lucky ones.

He kissed her head again, and caught himself, “Sorry. Is it okay to touch you?”

She nodded harder than the last time.

His chuckle was relief. To her, it was a song. He held her tighter. She dissolved.

He’d taken off her mask, stripped off her costume, and naked, she cried into his chest, “I just want to die. I want to be dead. And I can’t. I keep trying, and I can’t.”

Holding her at a moment like this was a key part of his plan. Step one, open her legs. Step two, her heart. It was a system as efficient as it was ugly and cheap. And it made him ugly and cheap, but it also made him safe. He closed his eyes, the tears soaking through his shirt felt like fire and it burned into his cursed, cold skin like a holy symbol; a brand. It was like her body knew what lurked inside his, called him out for the parasite he was even as she was oblivious to it, and fought back to defend against him when she couldn’t.

Vistri sunk into him, tucked into his warmth. She found her breath again in his arms, and in the moment she came back to herself, started to laugh.

He peeked down, “What are you chuckling about in there?”

Her eyes were still freely flowing, but she was more present in there, “In where?”

“My shirt,” he said, “My damp shirt, mind you.”

“How is that my fault?”

He glared at her, “What do you mean, how?”

“I told you not to ask questions.”

“Well excuse me for wondering about your tendency to… To—”

“Always try to kill myself?” she finished, her tone too light.

Astarion sighed. She threw her head back and laughed. He didn’t join in.

“You promised.”

“Let me let you in on a little secret about me and promises,” he said dangerously sardonic, eyes lowered, “Besides, I already pretended to laugh earlier.”

“Faking it doesn’t count!”

“Maybe I’d find it funnier if…”

“If what?”

If what?

If the others wouldn’t kill him before her corpse was cold? If they didn’t rely on each other every battle? If the very thought of her…

“Oh, I don’t know! I don’t want you dead! Is that so horrible to believe?”

His grumpiness was sweet. They were always pretending, with each other, with everyone else. Vistri knew it the moment she first laid eyes on him. That’s why every word he uttered that she ever wanted to hear made her shiver with a dull sorrow, and why the words he pushed her away with were such a loving embrace.

“Of course it’s horrible,” she joked, smiling, “I can’t give you what you want and kill myself! However will my two worst impulses co-exist?”

Astarion smirked, “Shithead.”

She smiled.

He kissed her cheek to whisper in her ear, “If you ever feel such a desire coming upon you in the future, come to me, darling. I can’t provide you a real death, but I have plenty of little ones to give.”

He was so close, she prayed he didn’t hear the way her breath gave out.

“I heard that,” he muttered against her cheekbone.

[I'm almost finished this one and I cannot wait to share the whole thing!]

The Cave (Durge; Act I; post-goblin; forest - spider cave/camp)

Prompt: Wrist/Arm Restraints

[[tw/cw: Teasing]]

“Worth it!” Vistri said, showing everyone her prize: Armor for the forearms made of a hard, dark leather that laced up along the sides. They were plain except for the embroidery that covered it all over with elegant patterns of silver thread.

“Oh, those are quite lovely,” Gale commented, stepping closer.

“No!” Vistri pulled them back, “I won’t let you eat these!”

“I wasn’t!—I wasn’t going to eat them. And I don’t eat magical items, I absorb them.”

“These aren’t magical anyway, they’re just pretty.”

Gale sighed, “I wasn’t…”

Astarion grinned, “Not as pretty as you, my dear.”

Vistri flipped one of her braids, “Aw, stop!”

Karlach frowned, “Eugh, they’re being all mushy again! Gale, tell them to stop. It’s too much cuteness, I can’t take it.”

“Why do I have to be the one to tell them to stop?”

“Cuz you’re like a dad.”

“I’m not—“

“You are!” Vistri laughed, “You’re just like somebody’s dad.”

“Not the Daddy vibes you hoped to give off, eh?” Astarion teased.

Needless to say, Gale pouted the whole way back to camp.

When they returned, Karlach announced, “Gale is everyone’s dad!”

“Oggy! Oggy! Oggy!” Wyll chanted in acknowledgement.

“Oi! Oi! Oi!” Karlach shouted, pumping her fist in the air. Gale had to duck.

While everyone else went to rag on Gale about being the camp dad, Astarion watched Vistri make a beeline for Shadowheart. He paid mind to their chat as he “tidied up” his tent area.

“You’ll never guess what I found at the bottom of a spider web.”

Shadowheart raised a brow, “Lolth’s chosen?”

“No, and how dare you,” she brought the armor out from her pack, “I found these beautiful things!”

She didn’t look too impressed, “They’re… Nice.”

Vistri narrowed her eyes, “Well, thank goodness they’re not for you.”

He saw her go to Lae’zel next. Which could only be a slight on Shadowheart, because the Githyanki wasn’t going to care. Predictably blown off, Vistri then moved to Halsin and Wyll, where she finally found compliments. For some reason, she even showed off her find to Withers, who met her with even less enthusiasm than Shadowheart and Lae’zel. Maybe she just wanted him to feel included. Vistri was always doing stuff like that.

Finally, she doubled-back to him.

“It’s because of the undead thing, isn’t it?” Astarion smirked as Vistri approached him.

“What?”

“Nothing.”

“Right. Do you sew?” she asked, knowing full well he did.

“What?”

Vistri held up one of the arm bands, “The thread is loose here. Look!”

Astarion smirked, “Are you asking me to fix it?”

She rolled her eyes, “No.”

“It seems to me that your new treasure is soiled and I’m the only one you trust to mend it.”

“That isn’t… un-true.”

“So, you’re asking me to fix it?”

“No, silly!” Vistri looked suggestively into his eyes, “You’re going to offer.”

Insolence was the word that came to mind. Her blinking grin said, I have a need you’re lucky enough to fulfill, but her eyes were not so sure. There was something weak in them, like slipping fingers. They were on a precipice that hung on his answer, Was she worth it?

“Would you like me to fix it?”

Vistri smiled warmly, “Oh, darling! How kind of you! Of course.” She shoved the object into his hands.

He didn’t let her go just yet. In a soft tone, he demanded, “Say thank you.”

Vistri held her breath, her eyes grazed over his lips, “Thank you.”

Astarion dropped her hand and started to assess the damage. It wasn’t just a simple tug. A blade must have slashed it, because the original pattern was unrecognizable, and its thread was frayed. He’d have to use some of his own. Luckily, he just picked up a spool of silver the other day.

Vistri was still standing there. She hadn’t gone away.

“You’ve never been one for micromanagement. Please don’t start now, dear.”

“I wasn’t—I just…”

Astarion looked confused, “Oh?”

Vistri scoffed, “Never mind that!”

“I think you just want to hang around,” he teased, seizing the opportunity.

She looked away from him face the other direction, like a cat. Gale came sauntering over, escaping the cheers of “Dad! Dad! Dad! Dad!” from the other side of camp.

“What kind of nasty thing did you say to make Vistri, of all people,blush?”

“I’m not—!”

Astarion smirked, “I dare not repeat it.”

“You scoundrel!” he grinned.

Vistri sighed theatrically and looked to Astarion, “I guess father doesn’t approve.”

Gale’s smile dropped like a sudden downpour, “I’m not—!”

[I swear they adore Gale lol. They all rag on each other, and apparently it's his turn.]

A Tumble (Durge; early Act II - near Last Light Inn)

Prompt: Biting/Scratching, Piercings/Tattoos, Marking

[I actually have the whole snippet here as a wip wednesday!]

Enough (Tav; Early Act III; Rivington - barn at camp)

Prompt: Mutual Masturbation

[[tw/cw: Suicide, cptsd, breakdown, teasing, explicit language]]

Her voice wasn’t hers, like she was channeling a ghost. Someone else spoke, “Please don’t hate me.”

He held her steady, “I don’t hate you.” He kissed her forehead, “Could never hate you.”

She wrapped her arms around his neck so tight he started to worry his head might pop off.

“I just want you to be all right, love. Whatever tonight is, we’ll see each other through. Promise.”

Something light snuck its way into the melody of her weeping. He watched her start to settle into it, shuddering out the bad. Then, as peace began to peak, it was washed over with disgust.

“Gods! I’m so embarrassed!”

“Don’t be! It’s the nature of all fucked up people,” Astarion babbled, “Nothing out of the ordinary—It’s practically routine, darling. No reason to worry.”

“I’m so fucking stupid.”

He chuckled, “Good thing then we’re all fucking stupid.”

That got her to laugh, if even just for that little bit. At the end of it, there was a respite. No quick breaths, no tears; just a stillness.

“I love you,” she said, and then the crying came on again.

Astarion kissed her hand and put it to his heart. Vistri rested her head on his shoulder and let go of whatever she could. She poured stories she still couldn’t tell onto his shirt in salty tears. They soaked warmly onto his skin, quickly turning cold.

“I’m truly sorry, love” she muttered, wiping her face on her wrists, “My temper…”

“I could tell you to fuck off too, if you’d like.”

She chuckled, still not lifting her face from his shoulder.

“Look, it’s already helping. All right, fuck off then!”

It bubbled into full blown laughter, “Foolish!”

There was little difference between her now and the moment before. She was just as raw, even as her grief flipped to its other side. Exposed and bleeding, she stood at the precipice of salvation and ruin. The monster in Astarion whispered to go in for the kill. He blinked away those instincts, choosing another way.

“I love you as well,” he said softly.

Vistri kissed his hand and lifted it to her heart. It raced under his palm. His expression barely shifted but she could see his hunger in it clearly. She smirked warmly and leaned her neck a little closer.

“I-“ he stuttered.

She winked, “If you’re good.”

Astarion swallowed. He hated that he couldn’t feel her heart without the urge to consume it, but she loved that part of him, leaned into it. Instead of shying from the monster, she was ready to risk it all to make it more powerful. It would be more flattering if she didn’t hate herself so much, but thinking that way was unkind, did her an injustice. She stopped all other monsters. Her fealty was not to a vampire, but to him.

“Maybe later,” he smirked, “I dare not take from you now. Besides, you’d probably taste awful.”

“I beg your pardon!”

“All that stress in your system… Well, it sours the vintage.”

She took a very deep breath and exhaled with a shuddering sigh. All the stress in her system made her teeth chatter as if she were cold.

“I’m here, love. I’m here.”

She nodded, “I know. Thank you.”

[This one is really complicated to write, but it's starting to come together. I want to get it right. It's a tricky one.]

Blood Moon (Tav; ShadowPen au collab; post-epilogue; Storm Coast - ShadowPen's farm)

Prompt: Body Worship (Genitals), Vampires/Werewolves

[[tw/cw: Explicit language]]

Things were getting much too sappy for listening in to stay bearable. Astarion chuckled low in her ear, “Let’s get the fuck out of here.”

Vistri laughed and grabbed his hand to lead him out of bed. She suppressed a giggle and shushed him with a finger to his lips as they stood. He nodded, and they “snuck” out of the room, and then the cottage.

Once outside, their laughter began to slip. They took off into the grey dark, running from the threat of being overheard. When they stopped, it all came tumbling out. Panting and laughing with hands on knees, they were surrounded by trees.

“So are they,” Vistri panted, “Are they married now?”

He smirked, “You jealous?”

Vistri threw her head back and howled.

“Oh, really? The thought is that disgusting?”

“No!” she protested, “It’s not that!”

He grabbed her up and growled into her neck, “It’s not that?”

Putty. She was putty.

She just shook her head.

“Look, my dear. We’re in the woods again.”

His allusion to those first nights together raised her skin and sent a delightful shiver along it. There was almost a full moon, and its light sprinkled through the leaves and made the shadows shine.

Vistri stroked his cool cheeks with her fingers, “I feel so lucky—Are you cold?”

“If you’re offering to warm me up, then yes, I’m absolutely freezing.”

Even after all the time they’d had together, her lips still quivered as they met his. It felt like all the great love stories, and the dreams they bore. She was always afraid he didn’t feel it too, but the look in his eyes as he pulled away was always saturated with it. How dare she ever doubt him.

“I could take you here,” he offered in sultry song, “Just like old times.”

She chuckled, “Are they old times already?”

“I know it’s only been a while, but it feels longer. In a good way! The best way.”

“Not in the boring, dreadful way?”

“The complete opposite. You’re perfect and you thrill me. Two hundred years of torture passed in a blink, but nearing two years with you? Every moment is its own lifetime.”

[Just like with "To Belong", QueenMills and I will be doing a collab with our OCs. We will each write a one shot from the same events from our ship's perspective.]

The Black Masquerade (Durge; 2 yrs post-canon; Upper City - Eomane Manor)

Prompt: Dirty Talking, Pussy Eating/Blowjob, Breath Control

[[tw/cw: Teasing, explicit language]]

“Astarion and Vistri Ancunin of the Underdark!” the announcer called out.

Astarion muttered into her ear, “I thought these things were supposed to be anonymous.”

Vistri got up on her toes to whisper back, “What’s even the point of wearing masks?!”

The announcer, donning the puffiest, bluest breeches imaginable, made his annoyance clear. They hadn’t begun moving yet and were clearly bitching about him or his patron. He looked rather like a large, pissed off blueberry.

He cleared his throat to repeat, “Vistri and Astarion Ancunin of the Underdark!”

Astarion lowered his lips to Vistri’s ear, “Do you think he reversed the order of our names on purpose?”

“Let’s go!” she giggled, tugging on his arm.

“You’re wrinkling my costume,” he whined.

Astarion made sure to give the announcer a little trip as they passed by. Vistri bit her lip in order not to laugh.

The ballroom seemed to still as they appeared at the top of the stairs. Their costumes had been carefully planned and chosen to conjure the allure of vampirism without being too on the nose. Gods damned Petras kept insisting they should look like bats, but thankfully Petras had as much say as taste in this regard. They thought ravens were better suited as inspiration and decided to be adorned all over in black feathers flowing with gilded accents. The pitch-black drama of their long, winged trains adorned the pale Vampire and his periwinkle Drow, evoking the powerful and deadly allure of the Underdark itself.

The draping of their dress was complex, but with simple lines, and showed plenty of skin. It was really two parts, a tunic and a skirt, but passed for one whole. Its design deconstructed what was classic and created something no Baldur’s Gate ballroom had ever seen. If they didn’t already stand out enough, their black masks were as dark as a deep abyss and had long, curved beaks that looped all the way down to their waists. They’d be uncomfortably heavy to wear if Vistri hadn’t enchanted them with a Feather spell.

It was a bit of a risk to upstage everyone else as the outsiders, but when Vistri had asked Astarion how he wanted to approach their first impression, he scoffed and said, “How we always do. Drop in and immediately show them we’re better.”

[This one is turning out SO long, but SO worth it 🔥]

Working title: Partition, please! (Tav; 1 yr post-canon; Underdark - Spawn fortress)

Prompt: Fancy Dress

[[tw/cw: Teasing, sexual content, explicit language]]

“Hold still.”

“What do you mean, hold still? I’m not moving.”

Vistri laughed, “You are!”

“I’m doing no such thing!”

“Your eyes! You keep squinting them!”

Tonight was a big night. A whole year since they’d taken the fortress. They’d been so busy, it felt like a week. Now it was time to celebrate. Dress up and dance. Her hair and makeup already done, Vistri was helping Astarion, who couldn’t rely on a mirror.

“Astarion!”

“What?! I am simply sitting here.”

“You made me mess up!”

“What my eyes do when you poke at them is not something I can control!”

Vistri wheezed, “Hold on, hold on! I can fix it.”

“Stop laughing. It’s not me moving, it’s you laughing!”

“Sshhhh! I’m concentrating, you cunt.”

Astarion let out a long sigh, then stopped breathing to stay as still as possible. His unnerving stillness was an unsettling aid to her focus. His chest didn’t move, but he was right there, alive in his eyes. It slowed time, sharpened her mind.

“There,” she eventually said, and Astarion eagerly took a deep breath in. Seeing his chest move made her fly to his lips.

He chuckled and spoke against her kiss, “You’ll mess it up!”

“Haven’t done your lips yet.”

“I wasn’t talking about mine.”

“Shit!” Vistri ran over to the mirror.

One leg up on the vanity stool, she leaned into its reflection and whined. Astarion raised his brow, she’d given him quite the view. Neither of them were dressed yet, still in their undergarments. He found himself staring at the little strip of cloth snug between her thighs. He wanted to run his fingers along it, and then tear it down her legs with his teeth before sinking them into her.

“There’s always staying in,” he suggested.

“Don’t make me laugh!” she giggled, fixing her lips, “I’ll fuck it up again.”

“Fucked up my good work, mind you!”

Since Vistri had to do his hair and makeup, it was only fair he’d done hers.

She scoffed, “You’re so much prettier when you’re not cross, you know. A little advice for this evening.”

He smacked her tush in retaliation for her tease. She yelped.

It took her way less time to sort Astarion’s hair, but it always behaved so well. “It’s the only thing that’s ever consistently gone right in my life,” he always said.

“It’s the only thing that’s—”

“—Always gone right in your life. I know, love.”

“Oh? Do I bore you?”

“No!” she laughed, “No, you never bore me!”

[Them doing each other's makeup is so 😍 They're killing me 😭]

Tagging (no pressure, of course): @acciokaidanalenko @blkgirl-writing @magicallulu7 @nowandthane @vorchagirl @malabadspice @elfjpeg

[Read my other one shots: AO3 | Tumblr]

[ambidextrousarcher]

Frustrated with the snippet translation, because it is time-taking work, lost on where to go with the fic, but I wanted to sing this for a long time, so…here we go, Sol in my untrained, squeaky voice.

Tagging my usual Ponniyin Selvan people as well as some friends who liked my singing.

@hum-suffer @humapkehaikaun @harinishivaa @celestesinsight @willkatfanfromasia @rdx-dcm @racoonpaws @favcolourrvibgior @hinsaa-paramo-dharma @hindumyththoughts @deadloverscity @mizutaama @thelekhikawrites @themorguepoet and @thereader-radhika

I remember @thegleamingmoon had a wonderful translation of this song on their blog, but I couldn’t find it there (thanks, Tumblr Search function) so I’m translating it here under the cut.

In retrospect, this ended up taking more time than necessary, because Tumblr was kind enough to delete the first draft of the translation. Sigh.

Let me know if you want to be added to/removed from the tag list!

Kaadhodu sol, kaadhodu sol

Whisper in my ears, whisper in my ears

Yaarendru sol, yaarendru sol

Tell me who it is, tell me who it is.

Perazhagan ah sol, kodar megan ah sol

Tell me if he is a man of great beauty, tell me if he is as tall as a craggy peak.

(Raja Raja Chozhan was apparently known to be quite handsome, from what I have heard)

Maaveeran ah sol, vaayijalan ah sol

Tell me if he is a man of great valour, tell me if he weaves webs with his words.

(Arulmozhi in Ponniyin Selvan is definitely a man of valour, and Vandiyathevan can weave anything he wants with his words)

Odathe soladi or vaarthai sol

Don’t run away, at least say one word (about him) dear

Kaavalan ah sol, en evalana sol

Tell me if he is a guardian, tell me if he is my servant

(in a scene in the movie, Arulmozhi calls himself both the kaavalan (guardian) and the velaikaaran (servant) of the Chozha people, though Vandiyathevan can also fit the ‘my servant’ part, for he is indeed serving Kundavai’s will at that point)

Poraali ah sol illai odoli ah sol

Tell me if he is a warrior, tell me if he is a coward.

(I don’t think ‘odoli’ here means coward literally, it is meant to mean, I feel, someone who escapes from sticky situations, which is definitely a fit for Vandiyathevan, and well, the great warrior can be both of them, though such magnitude of praise is probably for Arulmozhi)

Kichu kurala ah sol, kaviarasu ah sol

Tell me if he has a chirpy voice, tell me if he is the King of poets.

(Kaviarasu, I have heard, is a title given to Raja Raja Chozhan, and Vandiyathevan might have a chirpy voice, haha)

Ippodhe soladi inge sol

Tell me right now, tell me right here.

Mayai ah sol mayan ah sol

Tell me if he is an illusion, tell me if he is a magician.

(The illusion is probably Arulmozhi, who is, at this point in the story, not present in the flesh, only heard about in the highest of terms, though it can also mean Vandiyathevan with his many faces, while the magician can, again, mean the both of them, though it is more suitable to Vandiyathevan)

As Aa Aa Aa

Aa Aa Aa Aa

Kaadhodu sol, kaadhodu sol

Whisper in my ears, whisper in my ears

Yaarendru sol, yaarendru sol

Tell me who he is, tell me who he is.

Perazhagan ah sol, kodar mugan ah sol

Tell me if he is the most handsome of men, tell me if he is as tall as the highest of peaks

Enge avan sol, edhenum sol

Tell me where he is, tell me anything about him.

Maaveeran ah sol, vaayijalan ah sol

Tell me if he is the bravest of men, tell me if he weaves webs with his words.

Kaavalan ah sol en evalana sol

Tell me if he is a guardian, tell me if he is my servant.

Kichu kurala sol kaviarasa sol

Tell me if he has a chirpy voice, tell me if he is the King of poets

Ippodhe soladi inge sol

Tell me right now, dear, tell me right here.

Mayai ah sol, mayan ah sol

Tell me if he is an illusion, tell me if he is a magician

[anticidic]

I was looking into writing fanfics do you got any advice for that?

👀👀 hi there!! sure!!

The number one tip I have for getting into writing just in general, not even fanfiction, is to read. A LOT. And I don't mean only reading fanfictions. Reading published novels is really important to picking up general writing elements like pacing, story beats, characterization and character development, and how to set a mood if there's something in particular you like writing.

I just so happen to love writing angst and suspense, so I read a lot of detective noirs and horror books to learn how to pick up on conveying tension and inner turmoil, doubt, etc. etc. It also exposes you to a wider vocabulary, helps with describing senses, how to write good dialogue, all of that fun stuff.

Getting the words down in the first place is the hardest part. Editing can always come later. Some of my rough drafts for fics are ROUGH. And I mean ROUGH. Like, I have stupid placeholders all over the place, but I leave them when I'm feeling stumped and just need to move on to the next scene because I've spent too long trying to come up with something. You can always come back to a certain part later. Just get words down. Even if you think it sounds bad or makes no sense. I've sometimes written endings before I even wrote the beginning to a fic. I've written fun parts first as preparation for writing something boring or angsty.

With that out of the way, a big roadblock to writing can be motivation/inspiration. There are so many days where I come home from work wanting to write but I'm just dead to the world and don't feel like it. But sometimes the motivation to write won't always come to you. It can take days, weeks, months for that motivation to hit, so you can't always rely on it. Sometimes if you want to write, you just have to sit down and push yourself. For me, at least, getting those first few words/sentences down is always the hardest, then when I get in the groove, I can knock out like 5k words in a few hours.

But if you're REALLY not in the mood, like if you can tell you're stressed or really have things on your mind, it's best to not push it. Pushing it is more so if you're in the mindset of 'ehhh I WANNA write but I don't reaaaally feel like it' and not when you're genuinely in a bad mood or something. When I really don't want to write, I just chill out and don't push it because that can make things worse. Always take care of yourself!! It's a hobby meant to be fun!!

For inspiration or "getting in the mood" I like to listen to certain songs or playlists that fit a particular mood or fit something that I'm currently working on. I also like to scroll for hours looking at fanart, and many times has that given me the inspiration to either come up with an idea or to get back to what I was doing. Then I like reading and coming up with my own headcanons! I think that's the most fun part of fanfic, tbh. I have headcanons for my fanfics and they'll vary from one story to another depending on the setting and the characters.

Like, one story I have Dazai set in a universe where he loves sweets. Peaches, in particular. In another, he likes bitter things and drinks his coffee black. Just those tiny things.

And sometimes inspiration has hit me when I've just gotten up to get some air or gone to do dishes, or something. It's WILD when and where the muse can strike. I've had things come to me while I was showering, and sometimes while driving. So if you're struggling to get anything down on paper, sometimes walking away for a bit is the best you can do and come back later.

I also like to have my phone on me at all times with the Note app because I've had snippets come to mind that I thought would be really cool to include in my long fics or for a new oneshot, so having something you can conveniently jot your ideas down before you forget them also helps!! Any little bit counts in the long term, whether it's one word or whatever.

But yeah, fanfiction is plenty of fun, and at times it can be taxing. There may be times you have to write a boring scene for the sake of plot advancement, and other times where you just wanna throw your hands up and scream because you've been staring at a blank page for hours. But it's important to remember about having fun in the end, and taking breaks as needed for yourself. 😊 Writing fanfic has been a really rewarding experience to me, and it's been eye-opening reading stuff back from when I first started writing to now and seeing how I've improved!

[bourbon-ontherocks]

Pls snippet/tell me abt European butter, awkward roommates, beth x phoebe & champagne room 🙏🙏🙏🙏🙏🙏🙇🏼‍♀️🙇🏼‍♀️🙇🏼‍♀️🙇🏼‍♀️🙇🏼‍♀️🙇🏼‍♀️🙇🏼‍♀️🙇🏼‍♀️🙇🏼‍♀️🙇🏼‍♀️🙇🏼‍♀️🙇🏼‍♀️

@majoris @sdktrs12 @asteraceae-blue @riosnecktattoo

Oh gosh, this is going to be such a long post 🤣 (but thanks to y'all I got to re-read very confused bullet points lists and half-written paragraphs, it was extremely amusing)

European butter

This one was supposed to come after Tacos & Tequila in the now-defunct food series. Basically Beth and Rio start fucking again post S4, along with a vague money-laundering partnership. One night Beth asks Rio mid-fucking if he'd like to go get dinner sometimes (because she's a freak) and he agrees.

They go on a dinner date, and Rio picks that pretentious restaurant Fitz took Beth to once, hence the title. Obviously, the date is a complete disaster of awkwardness, they're distraught in the end because they were both secretly hoping to start an actual relationship, they make out angstily in the street as a result, and the ending is sweet and full of hope although things are left a bit unresolved.

It's a pity I'll probably never finish it because I have more than a thousand words written already... have this snippet that made me snort because I'd completely forgotten about writing that:

She clears her throat, tries to dissipate the awkwardness. "Do you have, like, a hobby?" she asks, on the verge of losing her mind at getting to such trivialities. Does she know anything about this man? "What do you do to relax when you're at home?" "Mölkki." "Bless you," she responds to the enigmatic eructation. "Nah, it's the name of a game, mama," he says next, pompous almost. He then delves into rules and specifics so odd Beth is half convinced Rio just made up this entire Scandinavian game backstory to avoid revealing any actual information on his likings. God. As if things could get any worse already.

Awkward roomates

I have a detailed outline on this one but not a single sentence written haha, so there are even fewer chances I ever get back to it...

This would have been a post-canon fic where Beth and Rio have parted ways, except that one night he and Mick stumble upon a traumatized Beth while casually disposing of a body in the woods (as bros do). She's barely able to walk or speak so Rio grumpily brings her back to his place so she can rest. In the morning she's slightly better and explains that she's been abducted (there's a whole backstory that I won't detail here), she clearly has PTSD so Rio allows her to stay at his place for the day while he goes on his own business errands and evening plans.

Except that Beth's still there when he comes home at night, because she's panicking and developing some sort of agoraphobia due to her trauma, leaving her unable to leave Rio's apartment. At this point they fuck, which I guess gives Beth a free pass to stay longer, lol.

Awkward domesticity ensues. Rio's still grumpy but secretly enjoying it. One day he comes home and she's gone, having finally recovered enough, and he realizes he misses her.

I found this line in my doc:

Things get weird. He's aware that from an outsider's perspective she looks like the perfect stay-at-home wifey, while he's precisely the only person with whom she ain't... that.

Beth x Phoebe

I *think* it was supposed to be an S4 canon-divergence where Beth sleeps with Phoebe during one of their little hotel room drinking dates? I honestly don't recall much of how it was supposed to end, or start, or what was happening beyond that, except that it was a Phoebe POV.

I shared a fair bit of it here already so here's another line:

She texted Dave 'I have company 🍆 '. He answered with 💦💪 which she isn't sure was meant for her or him given that he's spending the evening at the gym as a result.

Champagne room

Ah. The infamous fuck-or-die fic... This one got reaaaally close to getting posted, my draft has more than 3k written words of it... maybe one day... the main concept was that, through extremely convoluted circumstances, mid S3 - early S4 (aka sworn enemies) Beth and Rio end up in a situation where they have to fuck in front of an audience at the strip club not to blow up a cover (that would get both of them in real danger).

Obviously dark-grey dubcon ensues here, they're both extremely reluctant but also extremely into it because they're freaks. Power plays also ensue. There's some grumpy but soft aftercare in the end. The people around are extremely gross. Also there's a dude named Gene who's way too much into Beth and Rio's sex life.

There's already a chunky snippet here, but have another one:

They've been ten minutes or so in this mockshow of foreplays — and by then Elizabeth's breathing has quickened, her cheeks reddened, and his body fucking responded cause there's only so many times she can smash her tits at his face and expect him to remain impassible — when Gene decides to be a cunt again, probably to impress Mr. Bad Guy or some shit. The way Gene's got the mentality of a fucking puppy is genuinely baffling. "Hey, man, are you going to fuck her or what?" he asks, his own hands roaming all around the dark-haired girl Rio's pretty sure goes under the stage name of Gloria who's kneeling in front of him, decidedly undoing his pants. Elizabeth straightens a bit at this to look towards Gene with a disgusted expression, mimics a retch before she brings her lips close to Rio's ear. "Ew. Who even are those guys?" Right? At least someone else gets it.

Kun Pao Chicken

I'm doing this one as well since I didn't want to start splitting comments in half.

This one would have been the third installment of the food series (after European butter, unless it's the other way around, I don't remember) and would have focused on Mick and Annie's relationship. Initially it was supposed to be a judgmental Brio witness to snacking buddies to friends to lovers kind of sitch, alas season 4 ending made things quite harder in this regard.

The title was supposed to reference the fact that Mick and Annie would order Chinese food to share during stakeouts. Basically, it would have been both their POVs roasting Beth and Rio and slowly falling in love with each other.

I have nothing really written besides these two lines of dialogue right before their first kiss:

"You know, your sister ain't the most interesting girl in the room." "She's not?" Annie's voice breaks a little in her throat. "Well, your boss isn't the most interesting boy in the room either."

Phewww, that was a ride 😅

WIP asks

[mxanigel]

WIP Whenever

Thank you for the tags, @poetikat and @arendaes! I know it's very much not Wednesday anymore, but I loved reading your words and I so appreciate you nudging me to share some of my own. 💜

I considered tagging people, but 1) I'm days late and 2) holy crap I'm so nervous posting this draft snippet from the upcoming chapter of Shion's fic because OT3 TIME OT3 TIME AAAAAAAH

As the first OT3 I've ever written and given how much I want to do right by my beloved characters, I've fretted over this scene for ages. Mostly under a cut to avoid overwhelming dashes with words ahaha~

-----

Levi exhales heavily. “Idiot.”

“Yes, yes, I made stupid decisions, can we please move on?”

“No,” he snaps. “What do you want, Hange?”

“Honestly? To carry on like we have been. But that’s impossible now.”

“Why?”

“Uh, because you two are in love with each other. You slept together. I’m just in the way.”

“I want you to be in my way.” He grabs their collar and then presses his mouth against theirs.

Hange gapes at him, then at Shion. “Who the fuck is this guy and what did he do with Levi?”

Perhaps under different circumstances, she’d laugh. But Hange didn’t see his agonized reaction to their fall. His barely-restrained rage over the MP who attacked when they were vulnerable. And he visited their hospital room twice yesterday—once before the battle and once afterward. Despite Hange’s unexplained conviction that he wouldn’t.

“Just roommates, huh.” Historia’s words echo in her mind. Did his squad see what we couldn’t?

“You’re supposed to find that funny,” Hange grumbles.

“Oh, uh, yeah. Sorry. It is funny. It’s just… this is a lot.” She stumbles over words that are far too weak to convey the complex feelings engulfing her heart.

“Should I not have kissed you?”

“What? No. I liked that,” she replies without hesitation, to her own surprise.

“Really?!”

“… Really.” Shion crosses her arms and tilts her head, her forehead furrowed in thought. When did that change? Many weeks ago, Hange asked her whether she liked them the same way she liked Levi. She said no. And then Hange got badly injured not once, but twice. The first time was a gut punch, the second like someone had ripped out her heart. They’ve become an irreplaceable part of her life, given her a place she belongs when she never expected to find that again.

“Oi, four-eyes.”

They both glance at Levi.

“I doubt you’ll get what you said you want.”

Hange’s lower lip trembles. “Ha, right, that was a lot to ask—”

“Unless you believe us kissing is carrying on like we have been.”

“Huh? Oh. Hold on. That’s what you meant?!”

He shrugs. “You know I’m not good with words.” Then his piercing gaze returns to Shion. “It’s your turn to share what you’re thinking.”

“But I don’t want to say the wrong thing.” She slumps face first into the hospital bed’s thin comforter.

“If it’s how you feel, how could it be wrong?”

[tameila]

Happy anniversary (belated) to TSAR! Are there things you might have done differently if you had written it now? From little things like turns of phrase to big things (plot points, character development milestones, etc.), do you think some things might have been different?

Thank you so much for your message, and I apologize immensely that it has taken me so long to answer! The new job's great, but my free time is WIPED 💀

but, to answer your question, I would have written the first arc of the story more mindfully. like, believe me, when I wrote the author's note of the first chapter and said that it was going to be a fluffy feel-good story, I honest-to-god thought it was going to be!! 😂 Now, with the foresight of where the story ended up going, I would polish the prose of those first chapters.

Along a similar vein, I would want to emphasis the weight and history between Pike and Scanlan more in the first arc. These are two people who have known each other for over a decade and have spent about 2/3rds of that time on the precipice of almost being something. They have flirted. They have almost hooked up. Pike is fully aware that she's attracted to Scanlan, but Scanlan's always run away when she's gotten too close. Pike in TSAR isn't completely oblivious to Scanlan's feelings; she's just had it reinforced by all their previous interactions that he isn't serious. I would want to really emphasis that dynamic and reading of their relationship more. I've been told that it came across, but I've never quite believed it myself. Mostly because, writing those first chapters, that was not really the dynamic I had in mind; it's just the one that naturally grew as I wrote.

There were also a lot of scenes that I cut in the name of getting the chapter out sooner, but, y'know me, I love to meander and I am always happy to write more.

Some bits that were cut from drafts / in the notes but never fully added include:

in chapter 14, after Scanlan drops Pike off at home, there was a scene where she goes into the kitchen and talks with Grog. it was supposed to explore, a bit more fully, the fallout of Pike's depression and its effects on the Trickfoot household dynamics. Those changes were weaved in over the next chapters, but I still think it would have been great to show them in the immediate aftermath in all their still-raw glory.

chapter 15 was, in part, meant to be a road trip chapter in earnest and explore the still-lingering tension in Pikelan's relationship and how, in cramped motel rooms and car front seats, they learned to smooth their edges and find each other. I do think, in the end, chapter 15 turned out perfectly fine without it, but...Why write less, when you can write more? That's what I always say! Here's a snippet from something that actually did get written from the scrapped road trip montage:

The next morning, Pike pulls out her road map to doublecheck their route for the day. Already, the reliability of their phones is sketchy at best. The further they go into the mountains, the worse the connection will become. She’s only thinking ahead, but Scanlan gasps, as if he’s never seen a map before, and calls it ‘quaint’. He insists that she lay it out across the hood of his car and has her pose for a picture -- or twenty. He complains for the first twenty minutes of their morning drive that he can’t get it to post to Instagram.

I have a completely written out scene from chapter 15 that I cut where Pike actually runs into Allura on the university campus but I cut it for hating it at the time lol...I would put it back in!

totally blanking on which chapter this was supposed to be in (potentially chapter 16?? because I think there was also a cut scene of the girls at a farmer's market just for the friendship vibes) but this was also in my notes:

Keyleth and her in the temple garden, Keyleth suddenly feels prompted to admit the truth: Grog and her are dating and have been for a while (since that rainy week in April when Scanlan was gone). Pike is not that surprised ("Keyleth, you made me watch that movie where the main character falls in love with her best friend's brother and then proceeded to ramble about it an excessive amount. I knew.") and is incredibly supportive.

[kinnbig]

hi, big fan, begging for enlightenment: how do i finish a fanfiction, asking for the kinnporsche modeling agency au i have three pages of basic outlines and notes and snippets for but never seem to be able to actually get anywhere with.

hi lovely!! thank you so much for the ask - honestly unfortunately my genuine answer is I wish I knew!!

the number of unfinished WIPs in my drafts vastly outnumbers the number of fics I’ve published. I find finishing fics incredibly difficult, no matter how well outlined and planned and bullet-point-noted the entire fic is. I have several WIPs that I absolutely adore but are gathering dust in my google docs because I just haven’t managed to find the motivation to finish them.

but for the fics I have managed to publish, my best advice is:

write badly first, edit later. set yourself a 15 minute timer and just write write write for that entire time without letting yourself think too hard about what you’re putting on the page. then do it again. and again. push through this way for as long as you can, and only then go back and edit it and make it sound beautiful. a first draft doesn’t have to be great. it just has to be done.

ride out any bursts of inspiration that you have for as long as you can. write in your notes app if sentences come to you while you’re out. scribble on post-it notes beside your bed if you wake up with ideas.

try writing in different locations. I find if I take my laptop to a library or a coffee shop with the intention of writing, it’s much more likely to get done than just sitting on the sofa at home.

talk through your fic with friends! nothing is more motivating to me than explaining my ideas to people and sharing snippets and getting excited together.

if you can stick to them, deadlines help. I struggle with setting myself deadlines because I know in my heart that they’re arbitrary, and there’s no consequences for missing them (other than feeling guilty or unproductive). however, if you can set yourself deadlines that you’re excited to meet - eg. “I really want to gift this fic to my friend on their birthday” or “it’d be cool to publish this fic as part of this event that’s running” or “it’d be funny to publish this fic on valentine’s day” (me with chart topper lol) - then that can really help motivate you.

bUt there’s nothing less conducive to writing or any creative process than guilt. feeling bad about not writing only makes writing seem less appealing. motivation only comes when you’re not beating yourself up for not being motivated enough. (this is the point that I’m struggling with lol)

on that note - remember why you’re doing this. it’s meant to be fun!! you don’t owe the fic to anyone - not even yourself. if you’ve had fun coming up with a concept and playing with the characters in your head, then you’ve succeeded!! the time you’ve spent making these notes and writing these snippets isn’t wasted if you don’t end up writing a full length fic, because you’ve already achieved the entire point of fandom - having a fun time with the guys from your shows. it’s an achievement all on its own. if you’re not enjoying writing, you don’t have to do it. this is all supposed to be fun.

the truth is, if you do want to finish a fic then you just have to do it. you just have to sit down and write a first draft and then sit down again and edit that draft and keep editing it until you like it. there’s no way around that. and it’s hard!! but you can do it. I believe in you!!