#i guess it's actually more of an outline than a prompt

[tofuingho]

What if Danny and Jason met in the infinite realms when Jason was dead and started a relationship?

Jason gets brought back to life, with or without memories of what happened while he was dead, and Danny has no idea where he's gone.

Jason is going through his whole training for vengeance thing. Danny is searching high and low, calling on all of the ancients and all of his rouges, doing whatever it takes to get his boyfriend back.

Jason meets up with the Bats. Does his whole 'kill Joker if you actually care about me' thing. Heads in a duffle bag and what have you. Danny still can't find Jason, but is starting to figure out that Jason was Robin. Like, actually Robin and just a concept spirit like Clockwork.

Jason starts making amends with the Batfam, but his "pit madness" is still a massive issue. Tucker and Sam help Danny figure out that Robin was Jason Todd and he lived in Gotham.

Jason wakes up one morning and feels like crap. He keeps having random sharp pains in his chest. He goes to the Batcave to get Alfred to check him out. Danny gets to Gotham and starts searching for Jason when he senses something odd. It's like someone is calling out to him, so he follows the feeling.

Danny arrives just in time to see Jason "giving birth" to their child.

[coralinnii]

Congrats on 2.7k followers!! You deserve it! :D For the event, may I request Malleus, Azul, Jade and Floyd with a gentle giant S/O? As you can already guess, S/O is super tall (you can change this detail if you’d like, but perhaps they’d even be noticeably taller than Malleus?) and maybe even kind of intimidating because of it, but they’re very friendly, quiet, and gentle. 

Again, congratulations on your achievements!! Keep up the great work you’re doing 🥳

‧₊˚✧ My Statuesque Sweetheart ‧₊˚✧

↳ Tall Gentle Giant/Reader

feat: Malleus ❋ Azul ❋ Jade ❋ Floyd genre: fluff note: no pronouns were used with the reader, I love beluga whales (it’ll make sense in Jade’s ver.),

Sooo…being someone that can’t relate to being tall :I, I went around to ask some of my taller friends to know what’s that like, so this took longer cuz of research. I also got into Genshin to prep for another prompt someone asked me and dang, do I gotta research on that too.

Similar prompt: Tall!reader who loves hugs

2.7K Followers Writing Event 2023

You were certainly a surprise to him. In his long years, rarely does he find people where he doesn’t have to tilt his head down for once.

Despite your height, you were as cute and friendly as a woodland creature, a contrast to Malleus who exudes regal power without much effort. He’s fascinated by you as your stature can command the room yet your energy has a rather soothing effect on him and those around you. 

Man is saying you have zero scary dog energy, and that is adorable to him.

If you’re the affectionate type, congratulations! You’d be one of the few to be able (and allowed) to reach his horns. What started as curiosity soon became a habit as you made it your love language to care and clean Malleus’ iconic features. As a bonus, everytime you are done it’s fun to lay your head gently upon Malleus’, between his horns which catches him off guard no matter how often it happens. 

Having a tall man with money certainly has privileges as you now have access to his personal tailor as well. Was there a pair of pants you really like but it only reached your ankles? Not anymore, let the royal tailor deal with that and add some matching accessories to that. 

However you feel about your height, you are a sublime creature of beauty to Malleus. When he looks up to you smiling at him with the shining moon behind you highlighting your tall outline, he hasn’t seen anyone more otherworldly than you. 

You stand out amongst every human I have encountered. Hm? Ah, I do not refer to your stature but rather… the way you effortlessly capture my attention and ensnare my thoughts with visions of you.

Azul being around an incredibly tall person? What else is new? Azul doesn’t feel all that insecure about his height, before or after meeting you.

Well, you’re definitely the most pleasant person he knows that towers over him, at least. He knows that many, him included, would use your sort of stature as an advantage over others. Instead, he likes your rather sweet nature and way of conduct. 

If you have stretch marks due to your rapid growth spurts, Azul would feel absolutely touched if you trusted him enough to show it. Azul would genuinely praise your resilience to may have been an aching and painful experience to go through. If you let him, he could create a potion to get rid of the marks if it truly makes you insecure, but he finds you beautiful no matter what. 

Watch him flinch and get flustered anytime you wrap your arms around him, smothering him with your taller form. You would laugh to see him so easily out of sorts if you press your weight onto him. He can handle it of course, but the heat of your all-encompassing hugs is vastly different from his time in the cold sea. 

Azul would provide certain things that would suit your needs that others may overlook. Suddenly, you would find blankets that can cover you entirely, or you were gifted a coat that is actually a long coat that doesn’t awkwardly cut off at a weird length on you. Mirrors in Azul’s private room are always suspiciously up to your eye-level whenever you visit. 

He’s happy to know that you see him as someone reliable regardless of that. He has an interesting way of showing his appreciation

Do you like the new decor of the Mostro Lounge? The new additions are quite beautiful and eye-catching. The tall but dazzling designs were inspired by you, after all.

Oh my. What a sight to behold, you are. 

Jade doesn’t seem like the type to brag about his advantageous height, but he is aware that not many can reach his stature and even fewer actually pass him in that regard. 

He still treats you as courteously as he always does, even more so as the two of you start to grow closer. 

A nice bonus about having a tall boyfriend is that most of the things in his room are perfect for you! Beds you can fully stretch out in, actual full-length mirrors that don’t make you bend down, and furniture that doesn’t require you to squish yourself into. Jade’s (and Floyd’s) has become one of your favorite places to visit.

He does find it amusing that some people may find you intimidating because of your height as he knows that you were far from any definition of that word. Jade would chuckle to himself whenever he sees you getting happy or excited, like watching a playful beluga whale squeaking in joy. Your gentle features and bright smile shines through any misconceptions of your intimidating form. 

Though not quite used to it, Jade doesn’t mind having to crane his neck to meet your gaze. Especially not when he could watch your adorable quizzical expression as he asked you to lower your head to him, only to whisper teasing words into your ear. He especially finds it fun to watch you jump to your full height in flustered surprise, even occasionally bumping your head on a hanging decoration. 

Really, how could he resist you? 

Do you need rest, my love? Perhaps a cup of tea can soothe your aches and joints while you sit.

Oh, Floyd would have no issues with you being taller than him. Probably the opposite, really.

Don’t @ me but I fully believe Floyd has a thing for legs, be it his own or others. He’s so fascinated by these human features that you may even catch him blatantly staring appreciatively at your legs. 

“What’s the big deal? They’re right there, who can blame me?”

He will however, with full confidence, laugh his lungs out if you hit your head on the door frame or trip on an ottoman seat you didn’t notice. Maybe he’ll rub the ouchie away but he’ll be laughing while he does.

Be prepared for impromptu fashion shows with custom made shoes to show off your gorgeous mile-long legs. Floyd could spend hours looking through online shopping with you, showing you websites that specifically cater to tall drinks of water like yourself.

This man will be floored by the experience of being the little spoon of a hug. To be able to lean into your arms and rest his head on your chest, listening to your heartbeat while you  lovingly pat his hair? You can be unknowingly smothering him and he’ll be loving every moment of it. 

Regardless if you’re confident or not, Floyd loves to take you dancing. If you’re not confident in your dancing, Floyd is more than happy to lead you with every beat until you have fun. The man just loves to see the flashing lights paint your body, with your smile being the brightest of them all.

Did you get taller, Shrimpy? Aha ha, just pulling your leg there! Though, wouldn’t make a difference to me. You’re still a hottie even if you, hehe!

[mrskokushibo]

Synopsis: Yoriichi visits nearly daily, but he is too shy to get closer to you. It's time to take matters into your own hands...

A/N: This fic is a part of Kinktober'23 Collaboration.

Prompt: Size Kink

Warnings: Smut. Sex. Romantic sex. Size kink. 18+

Wordcount: 1.9k

Kinktober Masterlist MrsKoku Masterlist

The afternoon sun was warming the ground, the residue heat radiating onto the engawa, where you and Yoriichi were seated next to each other, sipping tea. The delicate scent of jasmine was carried with the steam rising from the teapot and you felt relaxed and at ease. Well, it was not just the tea that had that effect on you, but also Yoriichi’s presence which was one of infectious peace and serenity.

The tall man held the dainty cup in his large hands, making him look like a kid at a play tea party. In the corner of your eyes, you were observing how delicately his long, sinewy fingers, handled the intricate thin porcelain cup. Amusing would be the right term to describe the sight, if it wasn’t for other, less wholesome emotions that it provoked in you.

He was a sizeable guy, well over a head taller than you, with a powerful build and an imposing presence. And yet, he was also the gentlest and kindest human you ever met. His face was so handsome that it was almost angelic and, in a sense, reflected his inner beauty. But his features were by no means feminine because that gorgeous face was set on a thick, muscly wrestler’s neck, and his voluminous hair covered up a pair of slightly larger, masculine ears, softened only by his long Hanafuda earrings.

And those eyes, oh those eyes. You could drown in them, like two bottomless maroon suns lighting up his face and pulling you in, to nevermore give you a respite from their addictive rays. Having him this close to you, made you often wonder what it would be like to get truly close to him. To have him just to yourself, behind locked doors. That longing grew stronger with every one of his little casual visits to your parent’s house.

He put his cup down and placed his large hands on his thighs. You could perceive the outline of the bulging muscles covered by his hakama. Your eyes lingered a little too long on the sight and when you raised your gaze to look up at him he was watching you with a stoic, but slightly embarrassed expression.

‘I guess I should be on my way.’ He spoke as he slowly stood up.

You followed suit and soon enough could once again admire his full height, having to almost tilt your head back to look up at him. Simultaneously, you took his hand and spoke in a hushed voice.

‘I would like you to stay.’ You blushed and looked down, but then gathered your courage and looked into his eyes again.

‘Come with me.’

He was so startled by your sudden assertiveness that he followed you without any protests. Your parents were in town and would not be back until evening, hence there was no one, apart from serving staff that usually kept to themselves, to interrupt your passage through the empty hallway and to your room. You slid the door open and led him inside, making sure to slide it closed behind you.

‘We shouldn’t be here alone. It is…inappropriate.’ A faint blush was now spreading across his otherwise pale cheeks.

‘But this is exactly what I want. To be with you one on one, in private.’ You spoke softly while running your hand along the hem of his kimono and down to his obi. His eyes followed the movement of your hand and when your hand stopped its short journey, he looked at your face again.

‘We should wait until…’ He didn’t want to say it, but it was there on the tip of his tongue.

‘Until what, Yori?’ You teased gently.

He swallowed. ‘Until we are, well, more official.’

‘But…don’t you want to test the goods before you make such a big life decision? What if you don’t find me, well, to your satisfaction…in bed?’ You could not believe yourself that you actually said that, but you did, the words literally just slipping from your tongue.

‘I do not need to “test the goods.” You are amazing in every way. How could “this” be any different.’ He made an awkward gesture toward the futon.

‘Alright then. I will put it like this for you.’ You moved closer to him and stood up on your toes, your hands on his chest, and you whispered, lips close to his.

‘I need you. I need to feel your touch. I have been craving this ever since we met.’

His expressionless, gorgeous face was slowly gaining a reddish hue, he did not move, but you could see something different in his eyes. They were growing darker, clouding over, with what you knew very well, was pure, uninhibited lust. It was only his self-control, gentle character, and impeccable manners that held him in place.

He sighed. ‘If you so wish then I will not stop this. I want it, too.’ His melodic, deep voice, was muffled by desire.

You smiled and nodded and began to undress him. You savoured every moment of it, the anticipation of finally seeing him naked was burning you to the core. Standing there with throbbing and leaking pussy, you could barely hold yourself sane. Slowly, you were untying his obi and as soon as that was out of the way, you untucked his kimono from under the hakama, opening it slowly and sliding it off his broad shoulders. He was standing still, like your very own, personal doll. A huge, sexy doll, just yours to play with. His shyness, for now, was stopping him from taking any initiative and instead, you kept on with your exhilarating task.

With the kimono out of the way, it was only the hakama and the thin, white hadajuban, a kimono-shaped undergarment, that separated you from seeing Yoriichi in his full glory. So, you kept going, untying the little hime holding the thin cotton sides together. You swallowed before proceeding to untuck and open. You felt like a kid on their birthday, opening that one special present, that they anticipate being the exact one they have been waiting for.

With burning cheeks and shaky hands, you peeled off the final layer, removing it with a drawn-out motion off his torso. You could feel your knees go weak at the sight that met your eyes. The sheer size and definition of his muscles gave you the shivers. Soon, you were about to have all that so close to you, the vision of him positioned between your legs and crawling on top of you, was driving you insane with arousal.

You placed your hands on his chest, indulging in the feeling of stretched, smooth skin, covering the rippling brawn underneath. You stood up on your toes once again and pulled him gently into a kiss. This time, he finally took action. His hands grabbed gentle hold of your head and he reciprocated the kiss with soft lips. You thought you would literally melt, his kiss was this perfect. You could hardly believe that this shy man possessed such skill, but oh he did, much probably thanks to his transparent world ability. Your tongues were swirling, and you let your hand wander down to the front of his hakama. He was hard. Fully erect, in fact, sporting a size that took you aback, wondering how will ‘that’ fit into your quite small hole.

While you continued the kiss, you untied the belts of his hakama, letting it drop to the ground, it was first now, that he began undressing you, with gentle hands untying your obi and then peeling off your garments layer by layer.

You now stood in all your naked glory in front of each other, bodies ready for the awaiting act of love and souls already fully entwined. While continuing the kiss, he began guiding you toward the futon. There was no going back now that you awakened the man in him. His large chest heaving, his eyes dark with lust, and strong hands exploring every inch of you.

The futon was now behind you and he directed you to lie down, him following suit. You could not believe this was happening. This tall, gloriously handsome, and strong man was now shamelessly spreading your legs and leaning himself over you. His lavish red-brown hair cascaded onto your breasts and belly, and you ran your fingers in awe through the thick, enviable locks. You looked into each other’s eyes, the attraction between you like a strong electrical current, causing your bodies to take the reign over your now completely blurred minds.

‘Are you ready for me?’ His deep, enticingly masculine voice wedged into the silence.

‘Yes…’

The butterflies in the depths of your core were fluttering with full force when he raised himself on his knees, lining up his impressive manhood with your visibly soaked entrance. He placed his hands on your plush hips and lifted you up a little onto his thighs. With his gaze locked on yours, he started to push into you. The sensation was beyond description. It was as if everything around you ceased to exist and the pleasure he was giving you was becoming one with your senses. Already now, with only a couple of inches of him inside your pulsing center, you knew, that this was something you could no longer be without. Call it love, addiction, but whatever it was it was engraving itself into your body and soul, making it his temple.

He lowered himself over you, placing his huge arms on each side of you for support, elbows, and forearms on the futon so that the full length of his tall body was in contact with yours. This closeness was dizzying, but you also felt a safety and belonging you never experienced before. This was total surrender, you wanted him in you for all eternity. His full length and girth were now gliding in and out of your drenched core, his hips grinding into yours to full contact.

With every slow thrust, the coil inside you was winding up, throbbing pleasure so powerful, that you could no longer control your moans. You were becoming loud as he worked away in silence, only the strained breathing disclosing the severity of his actions. Soft kisses were being placed on your neck and lips. Occasionally a large palm made its way to the softness of your breasts just to disappear again for support so desperately needed to enable the increasing pace and strength of his hips pumping into you.

When the coil finally burst, you exploded in an orgasm that washed over you like a tsunami. The months of longing and daydreaming amassed to this very moment of pure and majestic ecstasy. It seemed to have lasted for ages, your spasming muscle gripping him tight like a vice, as he continued to move on the way to his own release, which came only a couple of moments after yours. He was quiet all through his climax, but the violent and repeated contraction of his abdomen was a testament to how hard he came, filling you up with the build-up seed from his large balls.

You kept kissing, fucking, and exploring each other for hours that day. Until the late afternoon came and it was time for him to leave. But from now on, your meetings would no longer be about polite tea drinking and idle chat. And you looked forward to them with every inch of your body.

Banner by @cafekitsune Divider by @saradika

Tagging: @doumadono @muzansfangs @yoriichiskatana @ask-yoriichi @sunandflame @tired-writer04 @muzanswaifu

[goodluckclove]

Hey. Stop scrolling for a second.

You scroll through writeblr a lot, don't you? I get why. Lots of fun people, interesting concepts and prompts. But maybe you haven't taken that jump from collecting resources on writing to actually writing.

Once again, I get it. It's daunting if you've never done it before. I've been doing it for a while and I genuinely can't think too hard about the act itself as it happens or else I get all sweaty and confused. I flopped spectacularly at a game of Scrabble tonight because I just ran out of words to think of and I'm in the middle of my 13th novel. Writing to me is like side-eyeing the sun - but that's besides the point.

What I mean is that you should do it. That idea that you think could be, might be, maybe has potential. More than that, I think you should do it right now. Right now.

Ooh but Clove, it's one AM and I have to do open heart surgery tomorrow. Cool. Write three sentences and go to sleep, then see if you want to do more after you get your license revoked.

But what if it's not good? Okay. What if it isn't? But what if it isn't, and it GETS good later? Or what if it isn't, but then later in the story you find a way to make those three initial sentences make sense? Three sentences isn't a story, unless you're Ernest Hemingway or a Haiku Man. Moving on.

Clove, where do I start? Honestly if you've never finished a project, or really never wrote anything at all, maybe just start at the point that sounds the most interesting in your head. To find the process that works for you takes work and experience so maybe for now you get dessert for dinner.

But I don't have an outline/character sheet/world map/mood board/playlist/ECT! Cool. Maybe that's an issue. Maybe it isn't. There's only one way to find out.

But it's hard! It's hard at first and then it gets easier. It's a muscle. You work at it consistently and you'll get to a point where you struggle to remember what it was like to not know how to write.

But it's painful! Hah yeah. That's kind of the more honest issue, isn't it. It's easier to think that your idea WOULD BE GREAT rather than face the fact that you might not be able to MAKE IT GREAT. That fear isn't based in reality, though. People like different things. You might write a work that you're displeased with in one aspect and find that it's changed someone else's life for a completely different reason.

What if I'm not a good writer? I struggle with this a lot and I've been published. It doesn't really go away even when people cry at your work and heap praise on it. But if you like to do it, if you would still be doing it even if there was no end promise of fame and success, you should do it.

What if I'm not a writer at all? I used to ask myself that. There are lots of answers to this question so I can only give my own: you are a writer if you write - past, present or future. If you haven't written in a long time but you're trying to get back to the craft, you are still a writer. You just have to keep trying.

What we do is half-trade, half-religious act, and because of that it is easily one of the weirder passions. I don't really get why people romanticize the field but at the same time I guess it seems pretty magical at times. As a writer, though, our job is to be the proverbial Man Behind the Curtain. You have to know how the magic trick works enough to do it successfully, but you also still have to be amazed. It's weird. I don't know why I do it.

I still do it though.

Write three sentences. Right now. Why not, right? If you send them to me in an ask I'll read them, or you can send them to me at my email address that I posted a few posts back because I'm old enough to know online safety and choose to ignore it. Or just do it for yourself.

Make something. You deserve to be a source of creation.

[ceph-the-ghost-writer]

WIP Questions Tag

Rules : Answer as many (or as few) of the questions about your WIP as you can.

Tagged by @drawnecromancy! Read their answers for Le Prix du Sang here.

1. What was the first part of your WIP that you created?

Apophenia was originally a short story called "Dysthanasia" I wrote for an event on Ao3. Now Dysthanasia is the name of the series overall, and the story's a novel-length rough draft in the process of being rewritten.

2. If your story was a TV show, what would the intro song be?

Something short, instrumental, and spooky but with a touch of whimsy. Gotta have that little spark of fun or it'd wind up taking itself too seriously.

3. Who are your favourite character(s) and why?

I'm in love with all of them, but I have to stand by my protagonist, Isaac. He's a squishy human nerd, with no supernatural powers to speak of, but through being resourceful and more than a little lucky manages to survive awful situations. A lot of his characterization has to do with principles and compassion, but not quite in the soft or naive way readers might expect. His enemies repeatedly try to buy or break him, punishing him every time he does what he feels is right, but Isaac remains defiant, refusing to become jaded or take the easy way out. Is he destined to become a martyr? A monster? Stay tuned.

4. What other pieces of media could share a fan base with your WIP?

I'd hope The Vampire Chronicles fans would get into it. Maybe The Witcher fans, as far as characters relying on each other in an unjust world goes? Possibly readers of Octavia Butler, whose work I enjoy. I guess anyone who likes fictional organizations and the paranormal might see the appeal.

5. What has been your biggest struggle while writing your WIP?

Juggling all the backstory and worldbuilding that influences the characters and plot. So much happens before the actual story even starts. The death of Isaac's family. Renato becoming a bloodborn and his eroding loyalty to his sire. A cataclysm that reshaped the map. I'm doing my best to make these come through the text without hitting the reader with a wall of exposition.

6. Are there any animals in your story?

Living and undead! There's Renato's beloved goldfish, Tesoro. The elk, coyote, and bear Motley transforms into. Likewise the species of sharks that some of the good people of Eureka, Nevada can turn into. Or the livestock they raise, mainly sheep, goats, and chickens.

7. How do your characters get around?

Electric cars, horses, trains, or by turning into a much quicker animal.

8. What part of your WIP are you working on right now?

I think I'm almost halfway through the outline for the rewrite? Isaac is getting to know the supernatural locals of America's friendliest town on its loneliest road, and they him.

9. What aspects of your WIP do you think will draw people in?

Renato being a hot vampire, and there being different factions to identify with will probably lure some in. Hopefully they decide to stay for the characters, emotional arcs, and end of the world too.

Dysthanasia Taglist (Sign up or ask to be +/-): @thecyrulik @thatndginger @sunset-a-story @space-writes @scoundrelwithboba (feel free to consider this a tag for the game itself too)

Additionally @izzyspussy @wintherlywords @authoralexharvey @chauceryfairytales @autumnalwalker @revenantlore @captain-kraken @angsty-prompt-hole

Blank questions beneath the cut

1. What was the first part of your WIP that you created?

2. If your story was a TV show, what would the intro song be?

3. Who are your favourite character(s) and why?

4. What other pieces of media could share a fan base with your WIP?

5. What has been your biggest struggle while writing your WIP?

6. Are there any animals in your story?

7. How do your characters get around?

8. What part of your WIP are you working on right now?

9. What aspects of your WIP do you think will draw people in?

[occasionallyprosie]

"Hiding Behind Plaster and Ceremics"

Chapter 2

Twilight wasn't completely sure how to handle the situation, Legend was pretty delirious last time he was awake--to the point of revealing something Twilight was certain was meant to be a secret--but it seemed like his fever was going down at least, so maybe he would wake up soon and they could actually talk.

Febuwhump 2024 | Alt Prompt 2: "I love you"

<<Previous

Event Masterlist

Read On AO3 Warnings: none

This one won the poll! So here ya go.

----

Legend actually woke up the next time light, though it was dim moonlight, flowed into the little underground river and cavern.

Twilight spotted him begin to rouse while he was trying to figure a way up and out of the cavern, he was almost certain a clawshot should get him up, but he'd have to wait until Legend was better because there was no way both of them would fit at the same time.

"Hnnn..." Legend grimaced, clearly uncomfortable. Twilight quickly moved over to him.

"Hey--How are you feeling?"

Legend shoved at him as he tried to sit up. Twilight backed off a bit, Legend slowly managing to sit up. He rubbed his face. "What... Where are we?"

"A cave, there's a river right behind you so don't move too much. There's a way out but only one of us can fit at a time, and only if you've got clawshots of your own since I'm not sure how well either of us can toss it back from where it is."

Legend nodded, and Twilight was near certain he wasn't completely back yet. The snappiness and aggression he expected from the collector wasn't yet there, but he was definitely on the defensive...

Was the aggression coming from a point of defense? Twilight wondered, he used to akin Legend to a territorial animal, like a mountain lion or something. If anyone dared to approach, he would snap and attack, always on the aggressive side of things. But with the knowledge... but knowing that Legend used to be Apple, a bright little kid who was unendingly kind, Twilight couldn't help but wonder where that aggression came from? Because that wasn't the kid he remembered.

"I've got hookshots, which I'm guessing is the same thing," Legend hummed, still scrubbing his face and adjusting the blanket around him. "Where's m' clothes?"

Maybe he was more coherent than Twilight thought if he wasn't on the attack due to not having most his clothes on, he must've been aware enough to understand why.

"Over here, I tried to get them dry but--they're still a bit damp. I didn't want to make a fire."

Legend nodded. "Give."

He did, and silence fell between them as the collector hero pulled his clothes back on.

Twilight decided to try again. See what would happen with him actually coherent and not borderline delirious. "Apple--"

Legend full-body flinched, jerking away from him, then as an afterthought he glared... he glared in Twilight's direction and snarled.

"Don’t you call me that."

He wasn't looking at Twilight, just... in his direction. Twilight suddenly noticed how his longer than average ears were flicking and swiveling, eyes shifting side to side as if... as if he couldn't see anything.

Twilight knew it was dim, but the current moonlight should've been enough to outline silhouettes.

"Why didn't you say anything?" Twilight asked, tabling that thought so he could focus on the one he was far more interested in.

Legend winced, then he seemed to pull that aggression back to the front. "Why does it even matter?" He bit out. "It doesn't change shit."

Twilight was suddenly certain that Legend had extremely limited vision in the dark or his own enhanced vision was more enhanced than he thought, because just then, Legend wiped his face in a way that could've only been wiping away a tear, right before he snapped again.

"Anything you think you know about me, forget it," he said. "That was years ago, and I honestly could care less for that fever dream, hallucination of a quest."

He spat the last word as if he hated it or something, and if Twilight couldn't see him, he'd believe him.

Except Twilight could see him, he could see the heavy inhales even if they were silent, he could see the swiping of tears, the shaking hands--

"I don’t believe that," he said, surprising himself.

"Well you can go fuck yourself," Legend spat and Twilight saw the shakiness increase.

Twilight moved carefully, Legend jumped as he caught his hand and brushed a tear away.

"You have awful night vision don’t you?"

Legend tensed up, he jerked back but didn't go far as Twilight pulled him back before he could fall into the river behind him.

"Fucking--let me--"

"You’re gonna fall," Twilight cut him off.

"I'd rather do that than deal with your--touchy-feely bullshit!"

"Stop lying, Collector."

"I'm not lying! Get away from me--"

"Apple stop!"

He did. He froze up and Twilight could see whatever facade he'd been trying to pull back on since he woke up crack.

"I'm sorry," Twilight breathed. "I'm so, so sorry."

Legend still didn't quite stare at him, but he was staring and clearly unsteady. Twilight swore he saw tears in his eyes.

"I don't know what happened to you and I don't need to know, but please don't lie to me and say that you’re completely unaffected."

His mouth opened and closed, a choked noise escaping him.

"I know you’re not the same kid, okay? It's obvious, alright? But you are still my brother. That's what we promised, remember? Before we left, I said that even if we'd never meet again, you'd always be my little brother and even if you actually are the total asshole you've been acting like, you’re still my little brother. Got it? So don’t you dare keep pushing me away, it's a waste of energy."

Legend stared 'at' him with wide eyes, something broken was in them that Twilight never noticed before, but to be fair, he'd never looked.

"I'm sorry, I'm so sorry for everything. You didn't deserve what's happened to you, but I swear, I promise that it'll get better. It'll be alright."

That was the breaking point, Legend made a painful noise as he curled into himself.

"Shut up. Shut up--I can't--Don't do this to me, please," he begged. "I can't do it again, Forest. I can't."

"Do what again?"

"Lose you! I can't--" He choked on a sob and Twilight felt his heart break for the hero in front of him. "I can't do it again. Not--you two, Cadence, Raven, Ravio, Marin--I can't, please don’t make me do it again."

Twilight reached out again. "Kid--"

"Don’t. Please," he begged. "Just let me be the asshole, it's easier. It's so much easier. Please. I can't... I can't do it again."

Let him...

Twilight caught his face in his hands, startling him again. "If I do, can you promise me--Can you swear that you'll be better for it? That it won't make things much worse--Me pretending we don’t know each other? If I, now that I actually know, treat you like I have been and not like the brother we both know you are to me... Would you be able to promise me it won't make things worse?"

Things being Legend's clear instability, how he definitely wasn't okay, how he had tried to be aggressive but everything he did whenever Twilight caught him off guard was defensive.

Things being the fact that he acted like a hurt animal, only just learning to snap back at threats, but still not yet sure of what all constitutes as a threat so it just snaps at everything.

And as Legend just seemed to break more, eyes fluttering as he pressed his too-warm face into Twilight's hands, and a hurt noise escaping him, Twilight knew that Legend couldn't promise that, and he knew that too.

"I... I can't do it again," Legend insisted weakly. "Everyone leaves, I can't--I can't take it, Forest, please. Everyone either dies or leaves. I can't keep doing this."

Twilight wanted to wrap him up in the blankets again, he wanted to wrap him up and hold him tight, to protect him from anything and everything that would ever harm him.

"I know, I know," Twilight promised softly. "Look, you can't just live to try and hide from pain."

"Watch me."

"But has it actually protected you from getting hurt?"

Legend faltered, then he whined painfully as he tried to hide himself.

Twilight didn't let him. "Kid, people die, we know that. People die, people move on, they leave even if they don’t want to."

"I can't. I can't--I don't want to hurt again. I-I--I just can't. This is bad enough! I can't--why does everyone leave?"

Legend's voice broke, a cry out to the world, a plea for an answer, a wish to just have someone.

And didn't Twilight understand that? Sure he had the villagers in Ordon to an extent, but between Midna and his family from before Ordon, Ilia, her memories, all of it, it sure felt like everyone he loved left.

But he had people, Ilia got her memories back, Uli and Rusl, Zelda, Colin, all of them. He had them...

Did Legend have anyone?

Before Twilight had the chance to ask or to even continue the conversation, the sobbing hero in his arms quieted and when he looked down, his chest constricted and he lowered his hand into unnaturally soft (no really, how, he was soaked with sweat from being sick and it was still so soft) hair.

Legend had cried himself to sleep, clearly his sickness had really drained his energy and the breakdown had sapped whatever else he had left.

"I'll stay," Twilight promised quietly. "I don’t care what the goddesses want, I won't leave you again, kid."

It was daylight next time Legend woke and Twilight gave him some mercy in that he didn't bring up his breakdown from before.

However he very clearly told Legend not to pretend to be what he isn't.

"I don’t know what you’re talking about," the collector insisted stubbornly.

Twilight gave him a deadpan look before remembering how bad Legend's night vision apparently was. "You know exactly what I'm talking about. You’re a lot of things but dumb isn't one of them, Apple."

"Don’t call me that," he bit out and it sounded more strained than snarled. "I mean it. Don’t."

"Promise me you'll stop being a prickly jerk and I will," Twilight bargained.

Legend was silent for a long minute. "I'll promise not to play it up on purpose."

"How about you promise to just be yourself?"

"And you won't call me that or bring... bring that up?"

Twilight sighed. "Yeah, I won't say a word about it and I won't call you Apple anymore."

Legend nodded slowly, eyeing him warily. "Deal. I'll... I'll try to cut it out."

That's all he could ask.

Legend used his hookshot to get out first and Twilight followed close behind.

Thankfully, the storms had apparently stopped but that didn't stop Twilight from draping his pelt over Legend's shoulders.

"What the--no."

"You’re still a bit sick, kid," Twilight smirked and Legend visibly fumed, "keep that on."

"And you call me the jerk," Legend huffed, but Twilight didn't miss how he burrowed into the pelt a bit.

Twilight smirked and he ruffled his hair. "It's my job."

Legend squawked and shoved him, Twilight laughed. He saw the way his face and ears turned red and it only proved to make him laugh a bit harder.

"Hey I think... I see them! They're okay! HEY! RANCHER! COLLECTOR!"

Finally, they found the rest of the heroes who had apparently been searching for a second entrance to the cave the whole time, three days.

Warriors turned on Legend with a clear annoyance once they were assured neither were hurt from the cave-in.

"Why the hell didn't you move?! You could've gotten both you and the Rancher killed!" Legend, with his mask still broken and not yet remade due to his promise to Twilight, flinched.

He knew that. He hadn't even known there was a cave-in, he had been so out of it that he did almost get them both killed and he knew that was his fault. He should've sucked up his pride and admitted to needing to rest, he knew that objectively but not a single part of him would've actually done it.

Not to this group.

"I know you hate us and don’t want to be here but--"

"Back off, Captain." Twilight inserted himself between Warriors and Legend, startling the entire group. "You've no right to lecture him right now."

"He ignored--"

"He was sick and he still is."

Legend winced as shocked and worried expressions were immediately directed to him. He avoided eye contact, suddenly very interested with the fur of the pelt on his shoulders.

"He didn't react because he was so damned out of it that he didn't notice. How much you want to bet that when he fell behind the other day and fell down that he was sick then too? That we failed to make this group an environment that even the most distant of us didn't feel safe expressing that weakness?"

Legend found himself trying to hide behind Twilight from all the gazes. The worst part was that he wasn't wrong, Twilight hadn't even assumed that it was from a point of pride, he correctly claimed his actions came from a point of fear of displaying weakness, of making himself vulnerable in front of them. Sure, Twilight probably thought that the cause of that fear was not feeling safe when it was actually a fear of letting them come close, but he still had gone that route instead of the obvious assumption of pride.

"So back off," Twilight snarled and he sounded dangerous, protective, and Legend wasn't sure if he should be running from that or hiding behind it.

"You're sick?" Hyrule weaved around Twilight, and as per usual, stubbornly tried to get close to Legend despite all his past attempts to snap and make the other teenager leave him alone.

Legend tried not to recoil and snap to get him to just go away, he bit his tongue and glanced at Twilight. Twilight, though staring down Warriors, shot him a glance.

"I was," Legend said carefully. "'M mostly alright now."

Twilight's unsure glance turned proud and everyone else looked a bit surprised.

A pit grew in Legend's stomach as Hyrule's eyes lit up a bit and he began to ask questions about how he felt and how he could help, that he wasn't too familiar with illnesses but surely he could do something, right?

The olive branch had been extended by no choice of his own... and he was surrounded by heroes who were going to snatch it.

He stood no chance, didn't he? What kind of mask could he hide behind now? What kind of plaster could he slap over it? What ceramic was strong enough to protect him?

Why did he have to care so easily? Why did he let people in so quickly?

Why did he always lose the ones he did?

At camp that night, Legend had been... harassed--he honestly couldn't think of a better word--into sitting by the warm fire and eating a bowl of really good soup. All of it was courtesy of Hyrule, Sky, Wild, and Wind who had taken his blunted retorts and softened demeanor and ran with it.

He hated it, but the only reason he didn't snap was because Twilight was watching him and...

And goddesses, he looked proud, he looked happy that he was letting it happen and somehow that was the worst part of it. Something warm flickered in his chest as he hugged his legs by the fire and he hated it.

He didn't lay down though, as everyone moved to sleep, Twilight bargained with Four for first watch and Legend knew immediately why.

He felt exhausted, he really did, but something was curling in his chest and wrapping around his mind, his whole body tingled and he swore he had goosebumps. He couldn't sleep yet, not with the pressure behind his eyes and the weight in his throat.

"Hey," Twilight said softly, he sat beside Legend, facing opposite of him and their shoulders were almost touching. "Are you okay?"

The pressure turned into actual tears. Legend glanced at him and silently, barely, shaking his head.

Twilight tilted his head to the side questioningly, seemingly agreeing to the tacit form of communication.

Legend just shook his head again, then he glanced to a distant corner of their camp and nodded to it.

Twilight glanced around and he must've come to some kind of conclusion before he nodded. He got up first, offering Legend a hand that he stubbornly didn't take it.

He wasn't sure he could, but he did accept the help in moving over to the corner with his bedroll. He sat back down, now healthily distanced and not so surrounded, and Twilight knelt back in front of him.

"Better?" He asked, voice low.

Legend nodded. "Thanks," he muttered, accepting the distance as enough to be unheard.

"Are you alright?" Twilight asked again.

He hesitated, then sighed softly. "I hate you," he muttered. Twilight startled. "This would've been a lot easier if you just minded your own business."

Twilight stared at him and the hurt that had appeared turned into mirth and worry. "Sorry, kid," he chuckled, "you're stuck with me now."

If only, he thought bitterly, looking away and glaring at the ground. He tensed as another weight was set on his shoulders and then a hood was tugged over his head and blinded him.

"I mean it," Twilight said softly, Legend pushed the hood up to meet earnest green eyes. "I let you go once, it ain't happenin' again, Link. Not with how it hurt you."

Legend couldn't even feel sad at that, he just felt... tired.

"Good luck," he said honestly. "It won't work though."

"Why not?"

"I'm not allowed to keep the people I love."

And I love you, went unsaid but implied.

Twilight made a quiet noise, then he reached up and tugged the hood back over Legend's eyes, as if his night vision wasn't bad enough.

Legend huffed and pushed it back again. "Would you stop that?"

"I'm so sorry," Twilight said and it startled Legend into freezing. "I'll prove it though. I'll figure out a way to prove it, I swear kid."

"I didn't agree to this stupid deal just so you could call me kid," he grumbled, not acknowledging the promise he knew was made to be broken. "I'm not a kid."

"How old are you? How long has it been?"

He scowled and avoided eye contact.

"Collector."

He hated that voice. He hated that tone. He hated how he felt guilty for staying silent. He hated everything about this.

"Seventeen," he whispered.

"Seven years?" Twilight breathed. "How... How many more?"

"...five."

"Five--That's... seven quests?"

Legend nodded hiding beneath the pelt hood now. "Seventeen, and seeing as most of you barely got two quests, my seven makes me a real veteran of this whole hero business thing."

"Don’t call yourself that," Twilight whispered, more of a croak really. Legend dared to peek up at him, having to push the hood back again to see just how pale and worried Twilight looked.

He sighed softly. "Why not? It's true."

"But--It makes it sound like that's all you have going for you. All you are is a hero, is your quests."

He shrugged. "Like Scholar and Collector is any different? Where do you think I got my information and items from? And we both know Hoarder is meant to be an insult."

Twilight winced but he didn't argue. Silence settled again and Legend let the pelt block out his vision.

He felt and heard Twilight move to his side and press their shoulders together briefly. He sighed and dropped his head against his shoulder, humming softly as the pressure somehow helped the headache that continued to pulse.

The thick pelt hid the tears that slipped free, but even then he was falling asleep again. Finally, he knew full well that he needed to rest if he wanted to stop being fretted over.

"I love you too," Twilight muttered quietly and Legend felt the hold of sleep disappear as he tensed. "You said earlier you always lose the people you love, an' you counted me and Ocean as one'a them... I love you too, and I don' break m' promises to my little brothers."

Legend really hated it when his mask broke, especially when he couldn't fix it. He felt himself shake as tears soaked into the soft pelt around his shoulders.

"Damn you," he croaked. "You don’t get to say that."

He couldn't say that, he couldn't promise that. Nayru was strict with her domain, even if that was possible, Nayru wouldn't allow them to return to an era not their own. Twilight couldn't promise that but he did because he actually thought he could do that.

Somehow that made it all that much worse.

"I love you," Twilight repeated as he held Legend tighter. "And you can't stop me from saying that or doing anything."

That broke him.

He wished he could say the same, he wanted to say the same, but the fact was that his heart was reaching and clinging it to everyone they met while his mind begged it to just stop getting them hurt.

"Honestly?" Legend forced out, his voice shaking and hitching with every breath. "The fact that you think that makes it just so much worse."

Because, goddesses, Legend loved him. He loved Forest, and Ocean, if he let himself he knew he would fall victim to Wild's chaotic charm, to Hyrule's inescapable orbit of simultaneous sass and warmth, to Sky's unending patience and kindness, he knew he would.

But he also knew there was no way they could stay together when it was over, and by the three, he just wanted to complete one quest without his heart torn to shreds by the end of it.

[ginnyw-potter]

Since it has been two years since I started writing again and I'm getting closer to finishing at least two longfics, I thought it'd be nice to have a bit of an overview of my ongoing and planned fics

Peverell's Progeny: Ongoing and no real ending in sight yet. I want to speed along the storyline more than I have. I think I'll go up to at least 50 chapters but likely far more, I have a broad outline. I'm guessing this will be my longest fic yet if it progresses as I've planned.

Knight of Mine: I am starting to have the ending in sight but it is still some way off. More time jumps are ahead to focus on the actual conflict of the story and to work on the resolution. I really enjoyed the lore I got to build here. I also need to work on the AUs AU, and expect one or two more chapters there.

Love, I like a challenge: a micro-fic that has expanded past 100K words. Oops? I am planning to finish this fic in less than 10 chapters, and I have a firm outline.

That has a ring to it: Completely written and being posted.

Not your captain: Pirate AU I have momentarily lost sight of. I will start working on it again, but I don't know when. I have all the important plotlines but still have to decide the order of things here and there

Spilt blood: 'Regency' AU I am currently writing that was a challenge prompt that also has gotten out of hand. Plot is clear, I could finish this in one or two weeks but I am just struggling to find the time.

The Silver Lining of Dirty Dancing: A Dirty Dancing crossover, where the DD storyline is adapted to fit Hinny. Yes, Harry is Baby. I have a very detailed plot outline handwritten. I will work on this as soon as Lilac and Spilt Blood have been written, probably. I don't know how long that will actually take.

If I missed any, don't hesitate to ask about it!

[radiant-reid]

For the little cute blurb idea:

after girls night (still a bit drunk) you decide you should all get tattoos together and your drunk self is determined to get one about your long time boyfriend doctor reid

"Oh my gosh! We need to do that right now." Penelope decides loudly, almost loud enough to gain attention from other patrons in the bar.

You switched to water a little while ago but she's still sipping on something disgustingly sweet and when the discussion of Emily's hidden tattoo comes up, her mind is on one track.

"Pen..." JJ attempts to warn her, trying to use the logical side of her brain. "No, actually let's do it."

"I'm in." You agree, evidently more drunk than you first thought. When they all give you a confused look, you're even more determined to do it. "What? I can be spontaneous, too."

Emily chuckles at that, dowing the rest of her drink. "Let's do it."

So you're at the tattoo parlor a few blocks down, the neon lights drawing you all in like a moth to an open flame. Emily goes first, mostly to prove to all of you that it won't hurt, despite the fact her new tattoo's going on her collarbone.

Then it'a Penelope's turn, who decides, naturally, on a little unicorn and takes the pain like a champ. "I was shot once." She reminds all of you as you look over her. The tattoo artist's face floods with concern, but she chooses not to ask.

"What are you going for?" JJ asks as you try to find some inspiration from the book on the counter.

You don't want to chicken out, but there's nothing that's jumping out at you, not until you flick the page and find the perfect design. "This." You point it out to her. "You?"

"Henry's name." She tells you, a little bit predictable but still very cute. She goes next, flinching at the ink going into her skin. Compared to the rest of you, she had a lot less to drink at the bar and is nursing a bottle of water.

Then it's your turn in the hot seat and you tell the tattoo artist and your friends what you want.

"Aw, you two are so sweet." Penelope coos, smiling drunkenly.

Emily has a different reaction. "So disgusting is the better adjective."

You ignore it, looking at your phone with your right hand when Spencer texts you, and the screen lights up with a picture of the two of you.

It doesn't hurt compared to being shot or assaulted by an unsub, just a numbing pain. It's not too big so she finishes it quickly before doing the proper aftercare on it and giving all four of you further instructions.

Spencer's there to greet you at the door when you get back, although he pretends he was just walking past. While you move to the bedroom, take off your make up, and undress, you replay the answer to Spencer.

"What happened to your finger?" He wonders when he catches sight of the saran-wrapped ring finger of your left name.

"Uhhh." You trail off, unsure of what to tell her. "Tonight was a bit wilder than I may have previously alluded to." You admit, looking at the design on your finger without letting him see it. He nods, prompting you to continue. "It's a tattoo."

He chuckles a little. "So, can I see the permanent mark that's now on my girlfriend's body?"

"Of course." You agree, excited to show it to him.

You place your palm up so he can see the underside of your ring finger. And the little outline of a heart that was now against your skin with the letter S in the middle.

He traces over it on top of the plastic, and you can see the blush on his cheeks. "This would be a really bad time to break up with you then, I guess." He jokes.

You roll your eyes at him. "Not funny. We're going tomorrow so you can get one, too. Then you'll be stuck with me forever."

"That's the plan." He admits, bringing your finger up to his lips to place a kiss over the new tattoo.

[shredsandpatches]

Teatro la Fenice's new production of Mefistofele (with Alex Esposito in the title role) opens tonight so I've been seeing a lot of preview pics on the bird site, including this one and a video of the chorus from the end of this scene (which does look cool despite the schlubby costumes on the two leads, why are they putting Alex Esposito in sweatpants, come on, they put him in fishnets for Gounod!). ANYWAY it got me thinking about the various props I've seen used for the globe in "Ecco il mondo." For the uninitiated: this scene is set at Walpurgisnacht, the witches' sabbath and the primary event of the infernal social calendar. At one point the chorus presents their sexy demon overlord with a globe, symbolizing his mastery over the world and prompting Mefistofele's aria about the folly of humanity, at the end of which he smashes it. (The original libretto mentions a glass globe, and they did have sugar glass in the 1870s so I think that's probably what it would have been.)

Anyway, if you look at the video from later in the scene you can see that disco ball earth looks substantially redder and more burnt out by the end of the scene, a lighting effect which I am guessing takes place at the end of the aria. Which is pretty cool! I rather like that! Not as much as something that can go boom, but still pretty neat.

Other prop choices I've seen, roughly in order of how much I liked them:

Nothing (Festspielhaus Baden-Baden 2016, ft. Erwin Schrott). Come on. Why would you do it this way. I love this production quite a lot (and I actually otherwise really liked their Walpurgisnacht staging) but sometimes it makes questionable choices and this was one of them. Projecting equations all over the giant stage skull does not count. LET MEPH SMASH THINGS.

Giant blue lighted globe (I forget what production this was, but I saw this scene on youtube and couldn't find it when I looked just now). Pretty attractive visually, and stood out amid an otherwise red-dominated scene. Also the closest on this list to authorial intent (and, let's be real, Boito would certainly have used a lighted globe if it were possible to do safely at the time). However, you lose a lot of the impact if your singer has to carefully drop the prop globe into a trapdoor. This is kind of a common theme in this post and a principle by which I would abide: if you can't break it, use something else.

Cow heart (Bayerische Staatsoper 2015, ft. Rene Pape). Well, it's certainly creatively gross! I'll give it points for that. It was definitely not the worst idea this production had in re: Walpurgisnacht. But there are also a few problems: one is the destructibility issue outlined in the last entry. If you do something gross like that it's not gonna be as effective if it doesn't get to go splat, which obviously the prop cannot do. Another is that it doesn't really go with the symbolism of the aria (why is the world a cow heart, specifically?). A third is that the scene had already placed a bunch of writhing pregnant women downstage which made me worry that things were going to go a LOT darker than they actually did. I neither need nor want to see sacrificial baby yeeting in Mefistofele, but if your production is generally committed to maximum squalor, you probably shouldn't do anything that would make the audience imagine it and consequently doubt that commitment.

Paper globe (Teatro dell'Opera di Roma 2023, ft. John Relyea). A solid choice! He spikes it into an oil drum fire pit and and it makes a nicely scary-looking flame for an instant. It would have looked cooler if it were bigger, but it was definitely visually interesting (unlike most of the scene, alas; Relyea was typically fantastic but the director did not give him much to work with in this sequence beyond dressing him like Mussolini) and appropriately destructive.

Latex balloon (San Francisco Opera 1989, ft. Samuel Ramey). This one sometimes draws sniffs from opera purists for being cheap and tacky, but honestly that's entirely on-theme: behold the world! It's a piece of crap! This staging is iconic for a reason (it's on the cover of the dvd) and the simple balloon is satisfyingly destructible (Ramey dramatically stabs it with a very large pin), easy to bat around before destroying it, and inexpensive to replace. Full marks. Of course, this is a famous enough production that any other one that goes that route will probably be seen to be alluding to it.

Because I am obsessed with this opera and have an unattainable fantasy of directing it I have a lot of thoughts about all kinds of staging details, and so I would definitely return to the "inflatable earth" well, but distinguish it by getting Faust into the act: the second and third verse of the aria, after all, are about how dumb and generally shitty humans are. (And I think it's important for stagings of this sequence not to lose sight of him, which sometimes happens.) I'm picturing Meph dragging Faust up "onstage" and handing the globe off to him, as a representative of said dumb shitty humans (a lot of teasing interspersed with aggressive flirting going on here ofc). At the climactic "Ecco il mondo!" he flicks a finger in Faust's direction, and the globe explodes in his hands, to the great delight of the chorus. It's different, and it's a nice moment for making your singers cooperate in selling it (Faust, of course, has the more difficult job here since he'd have to play startled at a stage effect he is largely responsible for carrying off). My throughline for Mefistofele is that it's fundamentally a toxic, destructive love story that's still somehow weirdly ennobling for the participants on some level, and the Walpurgisnacht scene is a pivotal moment in that arc (it's where Meph's switch flips from "I want to win my wager" to "I want Faust") so that staging choice would be a another little thing that makes that relationship central.

[toloveabeast]

Monster Romance Novel Excerpt

Please enjoy a minimally edited excerpt from a dragon x human romance that I’m working on. The spark for this encounter: Whoops, we need to mate to keep you safe.

I took a quick breath and shut my eyes. The embarrassed flush was creeping back even though many of the dragons had turned back to their own tasks at hand; a few even watched as they continued. I felt like the heat was consuming me. 

“Do it.”

There was no response.

“Do it,” I repeated. “Mark me.”

Dune's voice was tight. “Are you - ”

“Just do it! I'd rather you then him,” I said, knocking my head back in the direction of the dragon waiting to pounce on me. 

He didn't say anything as his tail uncurled from my waist as it turned me to face the direction of the other dragon. The solid press of his warm body disappeared from my side. I shivered as if I had been tossed into the lake in winter. I squeezed my eyelids together tighter and fought the urge to cover them with my hands like a frightened child. 

Warm breath fanned across the back of my neck, and a now familiar tongue followed. It lapped at the sweat that had pooled at my collarbone and had beaded along my hairline.  

My legs shook as that odd feeling grew stronger in the pit of my stomach. Heat suffused every part of me, and I was sure it couldn't have all come from the dragon that hovered behind me. 

“This may be easier if you are on your hands and knees.” His voice was soft in my ear. 

I couldn't move. 

“Little one,” he whispered.

My legs gave out, and my teeth clacked together as my knees hit the ground.

“Careful,” was the admonishment behind me as two clawed fingers wrapped around my stomach. 

I felt the pressure of another heavy across my lower back, and what might have been his other claws hanging against the side of my body. Did he have more claws? It had been more than three, right? I remember thinking how much his front feet looked like hands. That meant five, right?

“Hands,” Dune said.

Panic bolted through me for a moment. Was he reading my mind? No, he was just prompting me to put my hands on the ground as well. I did so and curled my fingers in the blades of grass. I wonder how long they would be there. Would this whole field be burned by the end of the day when they bedded down? Or would they leave immediately after? Did dragons breathe fire when they came? I guessed I was about to get that question answered quite soon and quite up close.

Heat from Dune's underbelly radiated onto my back as he bent over me. His other hand hit earth just to the side of my head, and I heard this claws scratch at the dirt.

I cracked my eyes open just a little to see what was happening, but I could only make out patches of light and shadow until I opened them wider. Dune's coppery body curved over me in a similar position, but his neck arched up so that his head came down to rest just above mine. I wondered if that position was painful for him and if he would burn me in the event that dragons actually did breathe fire when they climax.

An indescribably hot and damp weight pressed against my ass and the back of my thighs. I jolted, and my hands slipped. My elbows jammed into the earth, and I hissed in pain as I lifted them up. The skin was scratched and pebbled with flecks of blood. I stretched my arms in front of me to ease my weight off the throbbing patches of skin. I turned my head so that my my cheek pressed against the cool ground, and my eyes could look up at Dune. The sun back lit his back and reflected off his scales to create a shimmering glow outlining the contours of his body. 

“I believe I asked you to be careful,” he growled. His head shifted until it was over my arms. His tongue reached out and licked at the damaged skin of my elbows with movements I would almost describe as tender. As he massaged his warm saliva into the cuts, the pain diminished until it vanished completely.

“Is that safe?” I croaked out.

He huffed in that way I was beginning to think may be his laugh - whether his attempt at one or his attempt to stifle one I was unsure. “Yes. It will cleanse the wound and ease the pain.”

“Will it heal any faster?” I asked, transported out of the current situation by my curiosity as I brought one hand to poke at the other elbow.

“No.”

“Disappointing.”

He growled this time as he pulled his head back and returned to his previous position over me.

I paused my examination. “Are you upset that I said it was disappointing?”

He took a beat longer to reply, “No.”

“You are!” I barked a laugh; the force shook my body and pushed me up against the new warmth that had sparked this last exchange. I silenced myself and bit down on my lip.

I could only register the warmth, the weight, the dampness, the size. It felt as long and thick as my forearm. It gave a bit as it pressed against me, not as firm as his sides. Yet, it had a similar roughness I would associate with rubbing my hand the wrong way against his scales. My brain caught up with what I was feeling, and I looked back to confirm. It was indeed a penis. His penis. What really threw me was that it was one of two. One was nestled between my ass cheeks, and the other stood rigid off to the left of me. 

Panic flashed through me.

Dune's body stilled. “Do not worry,” he said. “I will not penetrate you.”

The tension fled my body after that; my shoulders melted into the ground, and my back arched, pressing my ass up into his cock. 

The claws next to me flexed deeper into the earth.

I glanced forward and saw the blue dragon still present. It had lounged on the ground and watched our movements with hungry and harsh eyes. I looked away and back at Dune's dicks. 

He had begun rutting against me again, and I watched as a bead of opalescent liquid pooled at the tip of each dick. Knowing now that neither of them would need to enter me, I allowed myself to trace their shape with my eyes and take my fill. 

They possessed a similar color to his tongue but were a few shades lighter. They stood in stark contrast to his copper and cream speckled underbelly. The texture I had felt through the fabric of my clothes had been the bands of ridges that  traveled about a third of the way down from the head. The head in its own right was smooth and flared like a mushroom cap. At the base, the two cocks joined at a large, fleshy mound that had been exposed. I hadn't been looking for anything like this when I first saw him, but I thought I would have been observant enough to notice  something like this even if I had been fearing for my life. I stared a bit more and noticed that what I took as a fleshy mound was an exposed section of his underbelly where it looked as if his scales at split open, but I noticed no damage in the small ones that covered that area of his body.

“I could hear the questions pouring through your mind if you thought only a little louder,” Dune rasped.

I laughed. “I'm a curious being.”

The tip of his muzzle snuffled against the top of my head; the warm air from his nostrils ruffling my hair. “Yes,” he said.

I smiled as he thrust again against the crevice of my ass. For a moment, the wild idea of what it would feel like if he actually did penetrate me flitted through my brain. The idea, which had terrified me minutes ago when I had run through scenarios with the other dragon, now sent a thrill from the top of my spine to the base. On their own accord, my knees spread wider. On his next thrust, Dune's cock didn't glide over my ass. Instead, it slipped down and rubbed between my thighs; that rigid heat rubbed against my core and offered a moment of reprieve from the aching hollowness I felt at the apex of my thighs. 

Dune froze, and I worried he wouldn't move again. Or worse, he'd change positions, and I wouldn't feel the press of his cock in the one place I most wanted it. I didn't think; I didn't question; I didn't ponder and wonder my way out of something first. I acted. I forcefully pushed back until my ass hit his pelvis, and I rolled my hips down against his cock on instinct. 

Dune flashed back into action. A deep noise rumbled at the base of his throat. It vibrated through him and through me. Every part of my body felt alive. I reverberated with the thrum of him. His claws tightened around my waist, just so that I could feel the poke of their tips against me. His speed increased as he thrust between my thighs with quick, pointed snaps upward. 

The ridges of his cock massaged that spot between my thighs. A moan of pleasure dropped from my open mouth as I pushed down onto him and ground my hips against his cock, chasing after the warmth pooling and tightening in my abdomen. I briefly wondered if this is what the young women in the village talked about in such hushed and furtive whispers after a roll in the hay with their latest beau. I could understand wanting to shout about this thrill, this joy, from the mountaintops. Soon, I did as an explosive warmth shook through my body, leaving tingling traces of contentment at every place it touched.

Dune roared above me, and I glanced up to see him snapping his jaws together. He gnashed his teeth together and tore at the air, but no fire spilled from his mouth. A moment later liquid heat dribbled down the inside of my thighs and across my stomach. 

I registered the blue dragon stalking off with a wildly whipping tail as Dune turned me over and settled me on my back. His muzzle pushed against my thighs, the folds of my skirt, and the taut fabric across my stomach. At first I thought he was cleaning me up, licking away the evidence of what we had done. But no. He was using the tip of his snout to rub it in, as if to be sure the scent wouldn't leave my skin. I laughed and pushed him away when he got to a particularly ticklish spot on my side.

[fanficfanattic]

Word Game Wednesday! Some random words: cold, pillow, light, and work

I had something for each of these words. But pillow had a pretty generous concept outlined. So I finished that and published it. So now I only have snippets for three of the words 🤣

Cold

1. That a/b/o fic once again rearing it’s “ugly, ugly boy with bad hair” head.

“Everything Jamie’s got in his life, everything, he worked for. Poverty and starving, the cold, the exhaustion, havin to work harder than any of the other boys, hours on the pitch, hours studying, raising himself up, always digging deep enough to put one foot in front of the other no matter how hard it were. He did that. He got himself out of that life, and drug me out with both his hands. Fighting how his own da tried to drag him back into the dirt.

So if you think for one fucking second, that James Tartt rearing his ugly fucking mug again, is gonna stop Jamie from chasing down his dreams?

You’d be as dumb as James Tartt himself, or worse. But you don’t strike me as that. Optimist, yeah, but not a fool.

So, you worry about making it work here, at the club and on the pitch. And I’ll work out convincing this one to finally put his father in the dust behind him. Yeah?”

“Yeah, I can do that, Georgie. I’ve said more than once that Jamie’s a good kid. Just needed to be pointed in a bit better a direction. And I promise you, and Coach Beard there can attest, that once I’ve put my mind to something? I’ve never quit.”

“Jamie, neither. So I guess that means we’re gonna get it sorted.”

2. Family Curse Fic

“This so isn’t at all fair!” Georgie ends up shouting less than an hour after Richmond met her. Based on that hour, this didn’t seem terribly out of character.

“What isn’t, love?” The cheerful response from her husband is also no surprise. He had remained placid in the face of 60 straight minutes of shenanigans so far. With no sign of fatigue.

“I always dressed Jamie up in the cutest outfits on his birthday, for the pictures. And put him in the sweetest little jimjams that night so he’d look adorable when he started showing up for his future self! Now no one’s going to get to see either. I have no bloody clue what he wore the day after his birthday.”

“Aw, Mummy, it’s okay. I was always a sexy little lad. You could have put me in a carrier and I’d be well fit.”

“That’s true, gorgeous. But don’t think I missed that you’d still put on actual night clothes for your birthdays once you got older. And were dressing yourself. So you wouldn’t show up pantsless in just a shirt!”

It wasn’t until one of Jamie’s teammates, she wasn’t fully sure who was who yet, actually asked the question. That she realized why half the lads were laughing.

“…pantsless and in just a shirt?!”

“Yeah, cause I get cold upstairs but hot downstairs. There ain’t no way to tell when you’ll start showing up. Didn’t want to be in some lady’s bedroom and have me show up in half me glory.”

She patted his cheek consolingly while gently correcting him. “Don’t sell yourself short, baby, 3/4ths your glory that would be.” And she grinned, no longer so sad about the outfits, when her fully grown son giggled at her just the same as when he’d been just her wee little man.

Pillow

As I said, this prompt led me to finishing and posting Put Your Hand Up On My Hip. So thank you for that!

Light

1. Roy seeing Jamie have a nightmare.

He’s on his back, sheet twisted half under and around him. His face is shiny with sweat but the pale hallway light shows his skin as pallid. For a second Roy irrationally considers how pissed Jamie would be to see himself so obviously unsexy. Then gets his head back in the game.

2. S2 fic where Dani and Jamie start dating. Dani thought they’d be more sexual given how Jamie was on Lust Conquers All. And Jamie is trying to put more energy into it being a relationship because he doesn’t want to fuck things up. Some of the team thinks Jamie is just stringing Dani along and are gonna prove it.

Except once that comes to light, Jamie has a proper fucking meltdown about mind games and how he cannot allow himself to be treated that way anymore.

Then realizes he said all that in front of everyone, had just spouted off almost two years (and two decades) of insecurity, so bolts.

Work

1. And a fourth snippet from the platonic a/b/o fic.

When he stopped being out of his mind, he remembered a deeply seated feeling of being cared for. He got a rest day, and then was back to work. It was still new enough that when he walked in, conversation abruptly stopped. Before it just as suddenly turned on again.

He couldn’t stop himself from rolling his eyes but he also went straight over to Sam. There was that collective sense of everyone holding their breaths. He ignored them entirely this time.

When he got close enough, even as Sam started to say, “Hello, Jamie” and “Feeling better?” He dropped his forehead onto Sam’s boney shoulder.

“Wanted to thank ya. For helping me even though I’ve been a shit to you. It meant…means, a lot. To me.”

2. More from this concept where Jamie gives himself over as a hostage to protect Phoebe.

“…His alarm system was live, which we disengaged through her information. The food he’d prepared to cook for dinner last evening was out and spoiled. We found his phone, on but locked, beside the stove.

What we do not know, including where he is at present, is whether there was anyone else with him at home. The best way to discover that is to retrace his steps between leaving the game, and when he left his house last night.”

“Wait, you know he left his house last night but-”

“We have the time of his alarm code deactivating for him to leave, shortly followed by him reactivating it from his doorstep. We know the most likely reason for him to have left. But we do not know whether he had anyone with him at that time.”

They quickly work out that none of them had seen nor spoke to him at all the day before. Colin suggested the detective speak with Keeley, Jamie’s ex-girlfriend, when Roy cut in.

“Don’t bother with that. She was with me.” And the moment was slightly lightened by half the team going “ooooooh” and “ahhhhh”.

[jedimordsith]

From a fic I’m not actually writing yet

Talon paused outside the med suite, aware that his heart was beating too fast. Annowirski had warned him that Mara looked better than when she’d been brought in, but not by much. Rolling his shoulders and pulling a well-practiced facade of detached equilibrium around himself, he palmed the door controls and stepped inside. 

The outline of Mara’s slender body was lumpy beneath the thin thermal-weave blanket, distorted by the braces and bandages she’d been swathed in between bacta dips. Two of the four ysalamiri Talon kept aboard had been transferred into the room with her, their nutrient frames hanging on equipment hooks mounted to the walls. Mara was eying one of them when he entered, and her gaze swiveled to him. 

“Did I do something?” She asked without preamble, her brow furrowing, her voice a croak. 

Internally, Talon flinched. He should have guessed what she’d infer.  Externally, he merely shook his head. Rounding the foot of the bed, he moved to untangle one of the IV lines, more for something to do than out of necessity. 

“No. Caesura and Foil,” he nodded at the ysalamiri, “are here because of what I did.” 

Mara’s blackened eyes narrowed. “Oh?” 

Talon cleared his throat. “I may have told Skywalker you didn’t survive.” 

Mara said nothing. Watching her out of the corner of his eye, Talon congratulated himself on how completely evenly he’d delivered that news. 

After a moment, Mara’s eyes fell half-shut and she tipped her head back against the pillows. “Close enough to the truth, I guess.” 

The words were flippant, but there was pain in her expression he knew she would never let anyone else see.

Talon’s heart ached. He owed her an explanation, and suspected it would mean a great deal to her to know the lie had devastated the Jedi Master. But then she coughed, blood flecking her lips, and his guilt turned to stone, blocking off and cutting out everything but the same searing awareness of how close he’d come to losing her that had prompted the problematic lie in the first place. 

[oh-bonerline]

kiss prompt 6 pls to qoute matty "we're so emo" 😭😭😭

Okay, a couple of people submitted 6 (on a falling tear) and someone else submitted 12 (in grief), so we are combining the two into a very depressing kiss prompt installment. Please enjoy? :) A/N: This one deals with addiction/relapse, so that's my warning to you. **

Matty wakes up on a couch that is not his couch, in a house that is not his house. He wakes up and Ross is sitting at the other end of the unfamiliar couch, just staring straight ahead with his hands folded in his lap. When he feels Matty moving beside him, he snaps out of his daze and looks at him. “Hey,” he says, keeping his voice quiet, like he’s afraid of breaking something. 

And maybe he’s right about that, because even that single syllable sends a resounding ache throughout Matty’s entire existence. He isn’t sure how long he’s been asleep, or what he exactly did before he fell asleep or passed out or simply ceased to be conscious in some, he’s sure, dramatic way. When he tries to turn his mind back, the memories are like overexposed film–faint shining outlines or black nothingness. Not an unfamiliar experience for him, but one he’d thought he was done with, one that sends panic running cold through his veins. Not because of what he’s done, but because other people have seen what he’s done. Ross, who he has tried so hard to keep all of this from, has seen what he’s done. 

He was supposed to be better. He had made them all believe he was better. 

“What happened?” he asks, rubbing his face with both of his hands. 

Ross sniffs and clears his throat and looks away. “It doesn’t matter,” he says finally. His voice lacks any sort of emotion. It is the detachment of someone used to dealing with an addict, someone fucking tired of dealing with an addict. 

“Where–” 

“Mine,” he says, his voice still cold and his eyes still not looking at Matty. “Guess you haven’t been round in a while.”

Matty lifts his head and looks around, finally starting to recognize Ross’ place. “Ah,” he says, letting his head drop back onto the couch. “Okay.” 

Ross gets up. “I’ll get you some water,” he says. Like he is desperate for any excuse to get away from Matty, to not have to look at him directly. 

And only then does Matty realize how fucking dry his mouth is, how raw his throat feels. He watches Ross leave the room. Once he’s gone, once Matty hears the tap running, he presses his face into the couch cushion and lets himself feel fucking worthless. He wants to cry, but there isn’t enough energy or water or feeling in his body for even just a few tears. He scrunches up his face until it hurts, but nothing comes out of him. 

Ross comes back into the room, walking so quietly, so carefully in his socks, that Matty can feel his heart actually break. He can actually feel a piece of his heart break off, its sharp edges slicing up his insides, filling him with blood. Ross hands him a glass of cold water with three ice cubes and watches carefully as Matty sits up and drinks. 

“You could have–” Ross starts, cutting himself off by pulling his lips back into his mouth. There is something terrible in his eyes that Matty doesn’t want to acknowledge. He drinks half of the glass and then sets it on the coffee table. 

Sitting up is proving to be difficult. Everything in his body feels wrong, bad, black. He understands this is not just a terrible hangover. This is not just the morning after a bad night of drinking. He has fucked up. Again. Massively. But Ross is still here. 

“I need to lie down again,” he says, not even trying to sound less pathetic than he is. 

“Okay,” Ross says, touching his legs and guiding them back up onto the couch. He moves over a bit so Matty has more room. He rests a hand on Matty’s foot, thumb pressing lightly into the arch, and then takes it away again. He leans forward and slides the glass of water down the coffee table so that it’s easier for Matty to reach from his current position. The love and the uncertainty in these small adjustments make Matty close his eyes. 

He doesn’t go back to sleep, but he lies there with his eyes closed for a while and Ross sits silently next to him. Bits and pieces of the previous night come back to him, but they’re edited together wrong. They’re not chronological and they don’t tell any sort of story. He remembers feeling very, very good and then very, very bad. He remembers faces looking at him, unsurprised but disappointed. He remembers how everything shimmered like gold when the high kicked in. He remembers Ross, looming over him, his hand on Matty’s face, a look in his eyes Matty would rather forget entirely. 

“Sorry,” he says now, feeble and useless. 

Ross doesn’t respond and Matty opens his eyes, sitting up even though he’s pretty sure he no longer has any muscles in his body. 

Ross is crying in a strange, noiseless way. His face doesn’t move. The tears just fall out and slide down his cheeks. He blinks and turns to Matty. He opens his mouth and closes it. 

Matty doesn’t know what to do so he leans forward and presses his mouth to the tear that has just slipped out, stopping it before it can make its way any further. He tastes the salt of it, the sorrow of it. He pulls back and catches another tear with his mouth, like this will bring him absolution. If he can just kiss every single tear, Ross will not give up on him. 

“I need more time with you,” Ross says, voice breaking like a wave of grief, and then he catches Matty’s mouth with his own. It is their first kiss that isn’t just them messing about or part of a performance, and it is such terrible fucking timing. Both of their mouths are slick with tears–because Matty is crying now too–and they press hard into each other. And when Ross pulls away, there’s that thing in his eyes again, and Matty acknowledges it now for what it is: fear.

Ross presses his mouth just below Matty’s right eye and then just below his left eye and then he just holds Matty’s face in his hands and closes his eyes. Matty keeps his eyes open, watching Ross–the way his nostrils flare as he breathes deeply through his nose, the way his eyebrows pull together, the way his eyelashes are still wet even though he’s stopped crying. He looks broken, in mourning, and it’s Matty’s fault. He forces the thought on himself: my fault, my fault, my fault . He brings his own shaking hands up to Ross’ face, thumbs on his cheekbones, moving gently back and forth. 

There is nothing for him to say and he knows that so he kisses Ross again, softly this time. Ross kisses him back, mouth opening when Matty’s tongue swipes along his bottom lip. Something happens when Ross’ tongue brushes against Matty’s. Matty feels something electric go through him. And when Ross pulls back, looks at Matty with his eyes half-closed, and then kisses him again, hungrily, it feels like a hard reset of his brain, like force quitting on all of his malfunctioning and frozen programs. 

Because he has spent years wondering about Ross, years trying not to wonder about Ross, and now here is Ross, answering all of the questions Matty has ever had. And the circumstances are so fucking nightmarish and abysmal. And this is not the solution to all of Matty’s problems. Matty knows that, logically. But it is something good when Ross softens the kiss again and just kisses him and kisses him. It is a seed Matty can plant in his mind and, if he keeps watering it and keeps it in the sunlight, maybe it will grow. 

He stops them with his hands on Ross’ shoulders, the word “wait” on his tongue as Ross kisses him one final time. He says, “I didn’t know that you–” 

“Would knowing have stopped you?” Ross asks, without waiting for Matty to finish his sentence. 

“No,” Matty says honestly. 

Ross’ face does something then and he’s crying again, his hand on the back of Matty’s head. Matty is quick to kiss his wet face, everywhere but his mouth. Because he knows that he has to be realistic. So. Not now. Not yet. He tells himself they’ll have time for all of that. He tells himself they’ll have time for more. All addicts are fucking liars, but he tries to believe it.

But Ross clearly doesn’t believe they’ll have any more time than this and he moves his head forward, his lips parted and his eyes closed. “Can you wait a bit? For me?” Matty asks with a hand on Ross’ chest. It feels both softer and firmer than he remembers it ever being. It feels like the only real thing right now. 

Ross sits back and swallows. He closes his eyes and nods. “Yeah,” he says with a waterlogged voice. “Yes.” 

And then Matty feels his energy waning again, and he has to lie back down on the couch. He feels a strange and sudden sadness about leaving Ross, even just to move a few feet away to put his head down. His bones have been shaking inside of his skin this whole time, but the thought of not being close to Ross makes them feel like they’re made of ice. “Can you–” He stops, realizing he was about to ask Ross to take him to bed which is what he wants, but not in that way. Not now. Not yet. Again, there will be time. And he’s still a bit high because he swears he can see all of the years they will have together lining up and stretching out in front of him. Like he’s telling his own fortune. 

 “Lie down with me?” he asks instead. 

And Ross knows what he’s asking, understands that there is not room on this couch for both of them. He also understands how weak and awful Matty feels, because he hooks an arm under Matty’s legs and his shoulders and lifts him from the couch with an effortlessness that makes Matty ashamed. He should be sturdier, weightier. He should be more substantial. He should be more .

In Ross’ unmade bed, they lie on their sides facing each other. “I wanna get better,” Matty says to himself as much as to Ross. 

“That would be lovely,” Ross says, gentle and kind, but then he laughs and Matty laughs.

“I mean it this time,” Matty says like he says every time. And like every time he really does mean it this time. The backwards, cyclical logic of an addict. 

Ross doesn’t say anything and he’s right not to. Instead, his eyes move over Matty’s face like he’s memorizing him, photographing this moment, taking stock, just in case. Matty hopes Ross doesn’t ever need the mental picture he’s just taken. He hopes Ross can bin this one and take new, better ones and then bin those and take newer, even better ones. He doesn’t want to be a ghost that haunts him. 

“I need more time with you, too,” Matty says, the closet he is willing to get to a promise. 

Ross touches his face briefly, fingertips smoothing out an eyebrow, and then pulls his hand back and curls it under his chin. He closes his eyes and Matty does the same. He hopes, strangely and wildly, that they have the same dream.

[trashangel-dee]

I was tagged by @pixiestickers. Hi and Thanks!

1. How many works do you have on AO3: 31, but I do have few that are "chapters" of one-shots/prompts. So Idk the actual count.

2. What’s your total word count? 96,853

3. What fandoms do you write for?

It's Always Sunny. I did others in middle/HS, and have ideas for others now. But never fully fleshed them out.

4. Top 5 fics by kudos:

1- My Love for you is 98% Pure

2. I Don't Like You, But I Love You

3. We're Throwing off Sparks

4. "It's Not Even That Bad"

5. The 3- Day Getaway

lol, not so happy with a few of them. Kind of weak writing, tbh.

5. Do you respond to comments?

Yes. I try to. Sorry if I miss one.

6. What’s the fic you wrote with the angstiest ending?

Life Breaks Dee. Which is probably the one I'm proudest of.

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

Sweet Dee and Carmen Make a Deal.

8. Do you get hate on fics?

I did in my old fandoms pre ao3 (i'm sure y'all know the website), but not recently, thankfully.

9. Do you write smut?

Yes. It started out of getting over the fear and uncomfortableness. Then it just became a whatever thing.

10. Do you write crossovers?

No

11. Have you ever had a fic stolen?

Not that I know of.

12. Have you ever had a fic translated?

Not that I know of. Doubt it.

13. Have you ever co-written a fic before? A little. Never got more than an outline.

14. What’s your all time favorite ship?

Of my writing? Charlie and Dee. It's not even romantic, but so many layers to explore.

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

AU of Dee and Charlie meeting up years after high school when they're both famous. Also one of DJ from Hacks life growing up.

16. What are your writing strengths?

ohhh, idk. keeping people pretty in character? Description phrasing?

17. What are your writing weaknesses?

Not rambling.

18. Thoughts on writing dialogue in another language?

Would if it was applicable to the story.

19. First fandom you wrote for?

Harry Potter. Though I guess Pokemon, but I didn't know the word fanfiction then.

20. Favorite fic you’ve ever written?

ohhh, I don't know. Cold Ice, Warm Feelings, even though I hate the title. Life Breaks Dee is very special to me.

I don't even know who's on here and still writes: I tag @prince-luffy @williamsockner and @howblunt

[beantothemax]

Oh my GOD 3000 words, consulting @meme-boys-blog for Dagda dialouge, throwing out half of my outline, wrestling with Tumblrs formatting of the Chat font (Did you know that if you put a colon in there it will make all the shit before the colon bold? now you know!) and a billion rewrites later, its DONE. Major fucking spoilers with SMT Apocalypse, mostly when the Canon Diverges. Honestly this is a MONSTER of a fic, and I put waaaay too much work into it. but you know what, i had to vent my emotions about The Thing that just happened somehow. So here. have this i guess :p ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Tokyo was in chaos. Well, more than usual. With the hero of the people being abducted by the Divine Powers, and the various sleepers of their faction activating across the city, nobody was truly sitting still. Well, except for one. Nanashi was sleeping again, decidedly more disheveled than last time. He didn't even bother to tuck himself in, just throwing the blanket aside and landing on clean sheets. The child was one of the few to witness the power of the group firsthand. Understandably, he traveled back home in a bit of a haze. Not exactly conscious of his actions, but going through the motions regardless. He left there traumatized, and so did his friend Asahi. When they both went back home, the pair gave hollow goodbyes, and retired to their rooms.

It was here where someone lay troubled in their own mind. Kurokami meditated in Nanashi’s shadow, leaving all her thoughts to the wayside as she mulled over the implications of all the cosmic nonsense that could have occurred. She had experienced the past few iterations going through the motions. There was a structure to all of this. A pattern of events, and when the pattern broke, things would be different. This child’s presence must have been a divergence. After all, it was he that broke the seal upon Krishna, and released the Divine Powers from their dormancy.

A noise.

A familiar one, but not unexpected, Kurokami thought. And this was one that she actually wanted to do something about. She rose out of the boy’s shadow, being careful not to touch him.

Navarre was scared of her, it seemed. It wasn’t surprising, given her domain, general demeanor, and appearance. But his jabbering was easily tuned out as she looked over Nanashi.

She moved over to the child’s bedside to scrutinize his condition. His limbs were twitching wildly and his face was knit into a fearful expression. Two telltale signs of a nightmare. He would surely wake screaming. And he truly did not deserve his own mind betraying him at a time like this.

She hovered a hand over his chest.

Direct Interfacing is what she called it. If she could describe it succinctly, it would be like a sort of command prompt. The soul was the computer, and she the input. It was one of, if not, the best way to gather information without using an outside source. Sending commands and asking for data on the soul was easy, but that is not her purpose this time. She was going to do something far more tame.

Well, before someone else barged into the metaphysical conversation. The unknown person was interfacing with her, but on a far less intrusive scale. Communication was performed by pushing thoughts and feelings toward each other, almost like a primitive messaging system. Far less sophisticated than just talking, but it can work if one knows how to interpret the signs.

[Anger. Query; Purpose?]

She recognized that blazing bright green. Dagda. He must have wanted to know what she was doing, just like last time. Well if he wanted to question her, he can come out here and ask.

[Denied, Request; Exit] [Negative. Anger, Query; Purpose?] [Firm; Denied. URGENT; Request; Exit.] [Resignation, Aggravation]

Dagda appeared in a flash of light next to her, looking quite annoyed. Navarre squeaked at the High King’s sudden appearance. He hid under the bed, as if he could sense the tension in the air. It was probably best this way, Kurokami thought, he would get caught in the crossfire of a no doubt heated discussion.

“Don’t see why I could have stayed in. Seems like you’re perfectly capable of talking there.” Dagda grumbled.

Kurokami crossed one pair of arms, “Just because we can does not mean it is easy. We would rather meet like this,” Her voice this time was of a stern woman, one with silver hair and good judgment. “Now, what did you wish to ask of us?”

Dagda scowled, “As I said before, what do you think you’re doing with the boy? You swore not to take him. And I assume you know what that means.”

“We know full well what we are doing. We are fixing the issue your ward is experiencing at the moment. Which is, at the present, partly your fault.”

“My fault you say? How was the kid sleeping my fault? The brat said he wanted to sleep, and I let him.”

A hand pinched her forehead. “We do not mean the sleep. We meant the nightmare.”

Dagda scoffed and shook his head, “Right. So the kid having a nightmare is my fault.”

“We did not say your fault entirely. You merely played a role in it. Flynn’s abduction seemed to be the breaking point, and your intervention in immobilizing the boy only made it worse.”

Dagda let out a dry laugh, “Keep telling yourself that. He’ll get over it eventually.”

Kurokami’s eye twitched in irritation. “Surely he will. But that will come in time. We wish to do something now.”

He smirked. “And you couldn’t do anything before? Don’t you have that nice little slave to-”

“Yes. Yes we do. But you set a dangerous precedent. And with that many Demons around, we did not wish to take our chances.” She cut in.

They could talk in circles all they wanted, but time was running short. Nanashi would most likely wake shortly. And she needed to get a concrete answer now. Kurokami leveled her gaze with the High King.

“So, will you grant us the small mercy of being able to tamper with your Godslayer’s dream? We only wish to remove the problem, and nothing more.”

Dagda held a thoughtful expression for a few moments, then said, “Fine. But you’re going to let me supervise. And If I tell you to stop, you stop. Got it?”

She nodded, “Crystal. Pleasure doing business with you, High King.”

“Don’t wear it out now…” He grumbled.

Dagda wasn’t the first Demon she knew to disregard the finer aspects of humanity, (She was good friends with Lucifer after all,) but if the Divine Powers claimed to wish to provide them salvation while having the same thoughts as Dagda? She shook her head. Now wasn’t the time to think about such things. She went back to work. Interfacing with the child and laying out the framework for the dream. Dagda’s presence was a heavy thing as she wove, tinting the threads with his color of green. Dreams built from memories were always her strong suit, and it was a good thing she had plenty of them. What would she use though…?

As she finished the structure and began deliberating, she was joined by the pudgy ghost, insisting on interrupting her. If a hand just so happened to pass through him while he was muttering, she knew that the little thing wouldn’t argue with the unearthly chill that came over him.

How about… a city that laid in much the same predicament as the Tokyo of now? Of course, the circumstances for their darkness were different, but if she had shown the sky to the child, he surely would have thought of Shesha ripping a hole into the Firmament. Besides, anyone would be able to appreciate the wonder of a rain without clouds.

She sang the refrain of a beloved tune while she placed the songstress. A lovely little melody about power, and how little She had.

А моря до краёв наполнялись по каплям, И срослись по песчинкам камни, Вечность - это, наверно, так долго. Мне бы только мой крошечный вклад внести, За короткую жизнь сплести Хотя бы ниточку шёлка.

She hummed a little more, letting the dream settle amongst the chaos. It was not as good as her last one, but then again, she doubted many could top it. There was some difficulty getting the already wound-up soul to accommodate to the new surroundings, but she helped to smooth the feelings over. She sent a quick message to Dagda when she could finally finish:

[Notice; Finished. Query; Satisfied?] [Bitter, Affirmative.]

Good. She withdrew from the interface and looked at Nanashi’s face. The pinched brow and whimpers were gone now, replaced by the calm expression one should have. She smiled warmly, and pulled the blanket over him.

___________________________________________

“Let’s just watch this play out.”

Nanashi was rooted to the floor. He wanted to scream, he wanted to move, he wanted to do something while Odin beat Flynn to a pulp. How could anyone just stand there?! Everyone’s hero was dead and nobody came to assist them? Has Asahi’s notice not reached anyone? What would happen now-

Odin was smiling greedily at him. The spear he had flashed a bright color, and he could feel his hair stand on end. This was it then. He stared at the god. If this was to be his last moments, he would be remembered by this asshole. And he wouldn't go down without a fight.

It appears we arrived just in time.

The world went black. Whatever spell Odin may have cast was gone now. Whatever was happening was done. He could relax. He could move. He could breathe.

And so he did for what seemed like hours.

A low rumble faded into his hearing when he finally stabilized his racing heart. The adrenaline was wearing off, now. All that was left was a sort of placid calmness. Still waters among an endless ocean. He was content to sit along this. But the next dream would arrive with a low rumble.

He thought it was a demon at first, but no. A demon wouldn't growl at him for this long. And it wouldn't be this… calm either. Nanashi opened his eyes, and looked around in pure wonder. Wherever he was, it was beautiful. With not a single fire, demon, or anything unpleasant in sight. It was just water. Water was falling from the sky in an eternal deluge, pouring off of every surface that couldn’t hold it. The liquid struck the roof in droves, and seemed to be the source of the low rumble previously.

It was a different sight from whatever he was dreaming about before. So he was happy with the change of pace. He leaned back on the wrought iron bench and took it all in before he started exploring. Normally you didn’t see these things still intact, so he relished in the novelty before beginning his little adventure.

He seemed to be in an old station of sorts, seeing the general structure of the place. He surmised the multiple floors to the area must have led to different platforms, like the ones in the subways a long time ago. He had to make a bit of a small detour to avoid a small trench filled with water, but soon enough he was out of the drenched station and out into the even more wet outside.

There, he saw tall, tall buildings. Built in a style he didn’t know. More importantly, he remembered the name for when water fell out of the sky like this. Rain. It was called rain. The small little droplets of water fell on his face and clothes, but seemed to be repelled by an outside force. He didn’t care too much, well, outside of the fact he wasn’t getting as damp as this city was. That was a bonus, if anything. He climbed many stairs and walked past a few houses. It only struck him now how dead this place looked. It felt like something was missing, like when he walked the streets of Tokyo with Asahi and Navarre. He wondered how the people who lived here dealt with the rain, maybe some form of spell? Or maybe a relic?

Eventually, he came to a small door with a sign next to it. He couldn’t read the writing below the picture, but he could pretty safely assume it was a sort of relaxation area. Lord knows he needs some relaxation today, so he walked in.

He was met with a painting of a woman with butterfly wings, (a demon?) with more of the squiggly writing beneath it. The boy looked in front of him and saw an elevator. It looked strange. Not even enclosed, with no buttons to denote which floor was being traveled to. All that was there was a lever affixed to the roof, which he flipped. Nanashi felt the entire mechanism groan to life. For a moment, he thought a demon was here with him, but no. Just ancient machinery serving its purpose after years of inactivity. He was used to it, not even the elevators were silent in their aged moaning. The rain made for interesting noise as the lift ascended, a low rumble behind the clicks and clacks of chain pulling him ever higher.

When he finally got to the top, he decided to look outside the window for a moment. He couldn’t help but stare at the view. With the gentle static of the rain, he understood what Nikkari once said about it. It was beautiful in its flow, the way that the water just falls and goes to each area, just knowing where to go. He found himself tracing some of the streams of water on the window. He smiled at the memory. Nikkari deserved to be remembered like that, and not like when Adramelec-

He sighed, dwelling on it wasn’t going to do any favors for him. Think about the happy stuff, and move on. Asahi would love this place. She’d be all over and trying to snap photos while dragging him around by the collar. She’d probably keep saying that this place was cool and tell him to stop moping, then push him into a puddle, getting them both wet.

Fond memories aside, he decided to finally start to look around the place. It was lavishly decorated, unsurprising for the place. Wallpaper with unknown markings decorated the walls while lamps lit everything in a cold glow. There was a set of stairs to his left, but those were disregarded in favor of another sign. The sign had an arrow, some music notes on it, and more of that writing. Music down this way? Maybe that’s what it was saying? Well, whatever it was, it piqued his curiosity enough. So he followed the sign, letting his hand glide across the wallpaper to his left.

As he made his way closer and closer to his destination, he could hear… singing? Yeah, maybe that. He turned the corner and- It was a stage. Covered in withered flowers and sad bouquets, he could only imagine what this place had looked like when they were still alive. The place was beautiful, with some soft sun-like light shining down on an empty spot. There wasn’t any singing anymore, so maybe the person was shy?

No, not shy. He saw the spot shimmer for a moment, before coming into focus.

Blonde hair and red dress, with delicate butterfly wings behind her, she stood just inches off of the ground with an ethereal tilt. She was looking straight at him, with a smile on her face. She didn’t look hostile, but there was a good reason Nanashi kept his bat handy while he approached her.

She looked overjoyed as she greeted him with a soft voice.

“Welcome to my stage little one. I am Marissa, a songstress of some renown, though given the sorry state of this place, you may find it hard to believe.” She glanced at the wilted flowers, and sighed.

“Huge crowds once flocked to hear me sing, then something changed. The audience, once so enrapt, began to leave. I continued to sing yet my voice fell silent upon their ears.”

She looked back at him, a glimmer of hope in her eyes, “Perhaps you'd care to listen to me sing? You'll be the first in an age to hear it.”

Well, he wasn’t exactly one to turn down such a request, and she seemed nice enough. So he sat at the edge of the stage, closed his eyes, and listened.

Nanashi’s eyes weren’t open, but yet he could see when the violin lent a hand. It was a lonely bench, with windows just in front of it. There was a different view of the city from here, this one facing the east and looking down on the ground.

The melody was handed off from Marissa to a violin, and the next sight presented itself to him.. A huge telescope, with a small stool next to it appeared before him. He was higher than earlier, maybe even above the clouds? He looked down and there were none of the puffy things he had heard about. He looked up above, surely he would be able to see the gray skies, right?

A cave roof greeted him. A craggy ceiling with droplets of water leaking from above. His eyes widened at the sight. This couldn’t be happening underground, right? Despite his questions, the roof held firm. And he was left following hundreds of drops down to the city below.

The music swelled, letting the harp finish, while the strings sighed out an end. Leaving him to stand in front of a fountain. It looked almost like a flower, the petals on one layer being elevated on the next. He could see three masked pillars rise up from the second tier, all facing an armored figure in the center. The water streamed through the tiles below his feet and ran down from between the petals. From the angle he was looking up at it, it almost seemed like the statue was crying.

It was calm. The music wasn’t there anymore, but he could still hear it in the back of his mind. The rain provides the perfect amount of noise to think, or not to think. It was still, but not. Calm but strange. Familiar, yet unfamiliar.

This fountain, whatever it stood for in its wiggly text, was the perfect place to take a breather.

And Nanashi really needed one of those.

VINNY I AM GLONG TO DIE RIGHT FUCKING NKW WHAT!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! THERE IS. SO MUCH!!!!!

the funky bracket text dagda and kurokami talk in is very fun… they are puter

and dagda in general is augh!!!! I <3 my dad!!!!!!!!!!!! good dialogue!!!!

SPELL THAT TURNS YOUR DREAM INTO CITY OF TEARS…. jokes aside seeing all the things in CoT through nanashi’s eyes was very cool… AND NOW I GET WHY YOI WERE SHOWING ME THE HOLLOW KNIGHT SCREENSHOTS EARLIER. ACK

EXPLODING A BILLION TIMES FOREVER

[sarasa-cat]

@sarahawke I needed to see this for myself and only skimmed this stochastic rando of """"fanfic""""but I won't really read it with awake eyes until tomorrow. At least it toned down all of that "eyes" business. Real thoughts in response to your question of what this even means tomorrow (post-coffee) but here is another one that sort of ... it is terrible fiction but I guess someone could use this as an outline or a prompt to write a real story with actual conflict (rising-and-falling), theme, etc. Like, back when anon dakinkmeme was running on LJ, it was not uncommon for people to write a PARAGRAPH LONG PROMPT that pretty much mini-outlined a story idea. Lots of great ideas too. My brain is too worn out from 12 hours nonstop BIG THINK working to really evaluate this beyond flat bad fic that is just meh.

Chat.openai.com attempts to write FendersFic

PROMPT: "Write fanfic of fenris and anders from dragon age II"

Anders and Fenris stood at opposite ends of the room, their eyes locked in a tense stare-down. The air was thick with tension, and the only sound was the soft crackle of the fire in the hearth.

"What are you doing here, Fenris?" Anders finally spoke, breaking the silence.

"I could ask you the same thing," Fenris replied, his voice low and gravelly.

"I'm here to help the mages," Anders said, his eyes blazing with conviction. "They're being treated like animals, and I won't stand for it."

Fenris snorted. "And you think that's a good reason to risk everything? To risk the lives of innocent people?"

"It's not just about the mages," Anders countered. "It's about freedom. It's about standing up to those who would oppress us."

Fenris shook his head. "You're a fool, Anders. You're putting your own selfish desires above the well-being of others."

Anders bristled at the accusation. "Selfish desires? I'm fighting for what's right!"

"You're fighting for yourself," Fenris said coldly. "You're using the mages as a way to justify your own twisted agenda."

Anders felt his anger rising. "You don't understand anything. You've never understood anything."

Fenris took a step forward, his eyes narrowing. "And what is it that I don't understand?"

"You don't understand what it's like to be oppressed," Anders said, his voice rising. "You don't understand what it's like to be hunted, to be treated like a monster. You don't understand anything."

Fenris's eyes flashed. "I understand more than you realize, mage. I understand what it's like to be enslaved, to have no control over your own life. I understand what it's like to be hunted by those who would kill you simply for existing."

Anders faltered, his anger suddenly drained away. "I...I didn't know."

Fenris's expression softened slightly. "You never do. You're so caught up in your own cause that you forget that there are others who are suffering just as much as you are."

Anders looked down at the floor, his shoulders slumped. "I'm sorry, Fenris. I didn't mean to...I didn't mean to dismiss your pain."

Fenris placed a hand on Anders's shoulder. "I know. But you need to remember that there are others who are fighting their own battles. And sometimes, we need to put aside our own struggles and help those who need it the most."

Anders nodded, his eyes downcast. "You're right. I'll try to remember that."

Fenris gave him a small smile. "Good. Now, let's go help those mages."