#it'll take me a while but i'm still in the writing ale

[mywritingonlyfans]

day 18377283399 without arctic monkeys live do you think Alex sleeps on his stomach or on his back or on his side hugging his pillows???

[lovemybluebully]

A Small Lapse of Judgement

What do you get when you cross a drunk Wolverine? Tickled. You get tickled. 🤣

Okay, yeah sorry guys. This one is literally like twice as long as my last one, but Logan and Wade both needed to get wrecked good. lol I'm just having too much fun writing these guys. So get some snacks or something because you're going to be here for a minute.

More somewhat movie spoilers, and Wade saying inappropriate things to Logan's annoyance. lol Oh, and of course tons of cussing. And tickles. Lots of tickles.

"Deadpool and Wolverine"-verse

M/M Tickle Fic

Word Count: 4,372

At first Logan had declined Wade's invitation to live with him at his apartment. Having been on his own for so long Logan didn't want to accept the fact that anyone actually wanted him around, but after Wade's persistent prodding and convincing he finally accepted.

"Yes!! It'll be like a sexy slumber party!" Wade had whooped, but one steely-eyed look from Logan made him turn it down, "Ahem. Or, you know, just two guys hanging out together with no lewd activities of any kind...."

No doubt Wade pushed Logan's buttons and got on his nerves more than anyone he had ever met in his life, but after their ordeal together there was no denying the bond that had been created between the two of them. It was hard for him to admit it, but Wade was definitely someone Logan now considered as a friend.

Surprisingly he settled in quickly and had begun to make himself comfortable, allowing him to let his guard down and actually relax for once. It was only a one-bedroom apartment so even though he had to sleep out on the couch every night he was grateful to have a place to call home.

And Wade was thrilled to have him there. Unlike his other roommate, Blind Al, Logan was progressively becoming more tolerant of his off the wall antics so it was nice to have someone else there that he could really joke around with. And drink with, though Logan still tended to embark on some solo day drinking of his own.

Wade shuffled into the living room in his crocs one late evening with Dogpool cradled in his arm to find Logan slouched over on the couch in nothing but jeans and a tank top and a nearly empty bottle of whiskey in his hand. Further observation revealed there to be two more empty bottles laying around on the ground by his feet.

"Hey. Robert Downey Jr. Wanna take it easy on the booze?"

Logan lazily looked up at him, rolling his eyes when he saw Wade was allowing the dog to lick all over his face.

"I will once ya take it easy on always making out with that mutt."

Wade stared at him in defiance as he continued to kiss Dogpool's head while she licked all around his mouth, making Logan grimace in disgust before Wade set her down upon the ten-sizes-too-big dog bed he had bought for her.

"You know if you were jealous all you had to do was ask, baby girl. There's plenty of Wade Wilson to go around," he leaped onto the couch beside Logan and puckered his lips, making smooching sounds as he tried to pull the other man close while Logan cursed and struggled to hold him back.

"Hey hey! Fucking knock it off, asshole!" Despite his annoyance he chuckled a little with the alcohol lightening his mood and after a few more seconds Wade finally relented to sit himself back.

"You can fight it all you want, but I know you'll come around one day. There's no resisting my natural labido," Wade sat facing him as he gave a wink and a flirty grin, causing Logan to sigh with a shake of his head and take another sip from the bottle.

"See this is exactly why I still drink. I need something to help tolerate your obnoxious ass on a daily basis."

"Fine by me. It has its benefits. Number one being that you're so much less stabby when you're like this," Wade teased, wiggling a finger into his side as Logan squirmed and giggled before swatting at his hand with boozed up coordination.

"Why are ya always tickling me? I hate that shit," Logan was still smiling though as he rubbed at his irritated ribs.

"Because," Wade smiled and turned to look out at the audience before whispering quietly under his breath, "The people demand it."

He sat staring in silence for several seconds until Logan lifted a brow in confusion.

"The fuck you looking at?"

"Nothing," Wade turned back to him, "Well it's because I have to make you laugh somehow, grumpy pants. You're always so serious, and worst of all you never laugh at my jokes."

"Oh yeah? Have ya tried actually being funny?"  A big shit eating grin was plastered on Logan's face as he instinctively pulled his arms in close to his body, not expecting Wade to let that one slide.

"Ooh hoo hoo, you're going to pay for that one later. You know what, smart ass? Maybe I'll tickle you in front of Laura. I'm sure she'd love to help me double team you sometime. A little badger on badger action, if you will." 

It was Wade's turn to smirk as Logan just looked back at him with nervous eyes that he tried to hide behind the scowl now creasing over his face.

"You'd better fuckin' not."

"I don't know. It's sounding like a pretty good idea to me. Usually I have to pay to see that kind of thing but-"

Logan growled as his claws started to come out, but Wade just laughed and wagged a finger at him.

"Ah ah ah! Rule number one, no bloodshed in the house. So best keep those claws of yours in check, my little kitty cat."

"Just don't give me a reason then," Logan warned, retracting the claws before his eyes raised to focus on Wade's head, "By the way, how long are ya gonna keep wearing that stupid toupee? I already told you that you ain't foolin' anyone with that thing."

Wade looked positively insulted as he patted and smoothed down the hair on his head.

"Uhmm excuse me? As I've told you a thousand times, it's a hair system. It's so I can go out in public looking halfway decent. Not all of us were blessed with the perfect bone structure of a successful Broadway actor," turns his head briefly to look at the camera, "And besides, I think it looks quite distinguished."

"I've seen better looking roadkill than whatever that thing's made out of," Logan snorted and downed the rest of the bottle in his hand before dropping it on the floor beside the other empty bottles.

"Says the guy who looks like he has roadkill glued to the sides of his face," Wade gave a less than gentle tug on his muttonchops as Logan grunted and smacked his hand away.

"Oh yeah? Well at least I can grow facial hair, pal. You on the other hand don't have a speck of hair on your whole goddamn body. You're like a fucking pre-pubescent child. This is what a real man looks like," a tipsy smirk crawled across his face as he nonchalantly pulled up his tank top to show off his hairy chest and stomach.

He emphasized his point by running a hand over his hirsute, muscular torso while Wade just stared very, very hard.

"........Are you trying to turn me on right now? Because it's working," Wade was smiling deviously and reaching a hand out as Logan chuckled dryly and gave him a hard shove, sending him flying to the other end of the couch, "Just so you know, I'm adding that one to the spank bank."

"You fucking wish, bub. Think ya got a better chance with that ugly ass dog of yours," he nodded over towards the sleeping pooch while tugging his shirt back down. 

It was rare to see such a repulsed look on Wade's face as the man always seemed to be down for whatever but apparently messing with the dog was where he drew a line.

"Woah woah, that's just going too far now. You need therapy, my friend."

"Oh please. I forgot you were the fucking poster child for mental stability," Logan muttered as he lifted his legs to prop his bare feet up on the coffee table in front of him.

"Heyheyhey! What in the ever-living fuck do you think you are doing? That's where we cut up our Bolivian nose candy-"

"I thought Feige said ya can't talk about that."

"Well what Feige doesn't know won't hurt him. Now let's go. Chop chop. Feet off the table, bud," Wade scolded and kicked Logan in the leg as the man rolled his eyes and begrudgingly pulled his feet down.

"You are such a fucking caveman. That table is an antique. Furniture crafted from the finest-OOof!" Wade grunted in pain as Logan dropped his feet onto his lap with his heel coming down hard onto his groin, "Uh uh nope. Not happening. Feet off the Deadpool too." 

"Well I gotta put 'em somewhere. What? Offended that ya weren't my first choice? Be flattered I finally found a good use for you," Logan smirked big time at the genuine outrage that now displayed on Wade's face.

"What the fuck do you mean?! You've seen what a phenomenal cook I am!"

"Almost burned down the apartment."

"I'm the king of late-night karaoke!"

"Got the cops called on us three times already."

"Well I'm good at making friends everywhere I go."

"I had to beat the shit out of all those bikers to get them off of you. Not to mention you almost got us banned from my favorite bar, you dumb fuck."

Wade started to pout from Logan shooting down all of his claims, but was quickly back to grinning as he thought of something that Logan couldn't possibly argue against.

"Okay, you know what? You wanna see something I'm good at? I'll show you something I'm very good at," Wade smirked and grabbed ahold of Logan's legs, securing his ankles in one arm as he began ruthlessly tickling the bottoms of his feet.

Logan lost any sense of calm he had as he immediately broke into a hysterical laughing fit, figuring out too late that he had made a huge mistake. There weren't many things in life that could get the Wolverine to lose his cool, but Wade Wilson the Tickle Monster never failed.

"Baahahahahahaha! Wahahahahade, dohohohon't!! Okaahaahaahaay! I'll mooohoohoove 'em!!"

Logan was far too buzzed to pull his usual act of fighting back his reactions and trying to pretend that he wasn't as horribly sensitive as he really was. Not that any of that ever discouraged Wade since he knew he'd always get him to crack eventually.

"Nah, that's okay. You just keep them right where they are, Giggles. Maybe this'll teach you some manners. Or not, that's okay too. I wouldn't want to run out of excuses to do this....," he scratched at the soles with Logan going nuts and frantically pulling at his captured legs while Wade's arm only squeezed tighter around them to ensure he wouldn't escape.

"Stahahahaaap, ya dihihihick! Fuhuhuhuckin' lehehehehe-lehehet me gohohohohooo!"

"What's that? Aww did you forget your safe word again? So confusing. How do I know if you really want me to stop or not?" The merc teased with his fingers scribbling at Logan's arches as the X-man's laughter surged in volume.

"Fuhuhuhuhuck you! Aaaheheeheeheehee nohohoho! Waahaait! I'm sohohohohorry!" He howled with tears already in his eyes as Wade found the weak spots under his toes; his body twisting and flopping around as he braced his arms on the couch in his clumsy attempts to get free.

Wade always enjoyed when Logan was in this state. Not only was he a lot less homicidal than if he was sober but he wasn't nearly as uptight and didn't even fight the tickles as hard. He practically just rolled over and took it and didn't hold much back. 

He suspected that Logan didn't hate being tickled nearly as much as he made out and loved to tease him about it much to the older man's insistent denial of the fact. It's likely that Logan would rather die than ever admit something like that.

Wade then cleared his throat and began to speak in his best exaggerated Australian accent.

"Crikey mate! Here we have the Wolverine. Best known for its violent tendencies and natural ability to be a complete jackass. When confronted by a stronger and more powerful predator it begins to make the most adorable snorting sounds that are meant as a sign of his submission. Let's listen in, shall we?"

Logan had been belting out uncontrollable snorts all throughout his laughter and it was one of Wade's favorite things to poke fun at him for.

"Shhh-Shuhuhuhut uhuhuhup! You're sohohohoho fuhuhucking stuhuhuhupid!"

"Oh, I'm fucking stupid? Who's the one making all the little piggy noises, Wilbur? Speaking of piggies....," Wade smirked as he started to play with his toes again, "This little piggy was an alcoholic....This little piggy was always so mean to his friend, Wade.....This little piggy talked shit about sweet little Dogpool....This little piggy..."

"Fuhuhuhuhuuuck! Alrihihihihight I gihihihive uhuhup! Haahahahaah! No-No mohohohore!" Logan had managed to pull a foot free and was now kicking Wade in the back as hard as he could, which wasn't very hard at all due his weakened state from laughing so much.

"No more? No MORE? Sorry, sweet cheeks. But I've got plenty more," Wade then threw his foot aside as he turned and dove onto Logan's prone form to now attack his very ticklish stomach, "That was for treating me like an object! This is for saying I'm not funny!"

Wade snickered with glee as the feral man expelled a less than manly squeal of giggles and immediately curled into a protective ball, though all attempts to evade were useless. Deadpool was positively relentless.

"Nooooohohohohohoo nohohohot thehehehehere! Okahahaay you're funny! You're fuhuhuhuhuhunnyyyyyaaahahahahahaaStaahahahahahaaap!"

"Oh sure! All of a sudden I'm just magically funny now! Don't insult my intelligence! You can't bullshit a bullshitter!" Wade managed to get his hands underneath Logan's shirt, raking his fingers up and down his bare stomach and forcing him to dissolve into a lengthy, mirthful wheeze.

"Why are you so ticklish? Is it part of your mutation? A result of a Weapon X experiment gone horribly wrong? Talk, damn you! I need answers!"

Not that Wade actually expected him to answer, but Logan was laughing entirely too hard and fighting it even less. He had his head thrown back in hysterics that exposed his oversized canines, writhing feebly while tears were leaking down his reddened cheeks.

It was a sight to see the normally powerful X-man rendered helpless from such a soft touch, but it just goes to prove that healing factors and big muscles were completely useless against a tickle attack.

Wade would have loved to keep tickling him all night, and he knew the man technically could take it with the high amount of stamina he possessed, but it was time to let him go now and save it for another time. Logan had been a good sport, and he didn't want to push it too far.

Pulling his hands back he now stood triumphantly hovering over the still giggling and plastered Wolverine, who kept his body all curled up in case the crazy merc decided to come for him again.

"Are you sure you're the Wolverine of legends? I mean, this isn't exactly what I had pictured. If I hadn't personally seen you in action then I'd have some serious doubts," he smirked as Logan finally relaxed and slowly splayed out on the couch.

"Heehehehe-That's the worst Wolverine to you, bub. You-hehehee-fucking suck," Logan continued to giggle as he struggled to fight off the dizzying high of the combined tickle assault mixed with the alcohol in his bloodstream. Wade was pleased to see he hadn't soured his mood.

"But do I swallow is the real question? Hehehe, sorry, I couldn't help myself. Now did you learn your lesson, you drunken idiot?"

Logan regained some sense of focus as he slowly sat up and looked up at Wade with the most cocky grin.

"Of course not. Gonna take a lot more than that, fucker."

"Do not tempt me, Peanut. I showed you mercy this time, but I cannot guarantee this next round I will be as charitable," Wade smirked and cracked his knuckles, surprised to see Logan lean back onto the couch with his arms folded behind his head.

"Pffft. You don't fuckin' scare me. You can do your worst. Though I'm sorry to say you're not gonna get the chance. Ya wanna know why?"

"Why?" Wade practically demanded with his hands on his hips.

"That's why." Logan lifted a hand to point behind Wade as the merc whirled around to confront what may have got the drop on him and found.....nothing. Nobody.

"Wait a minute.....did I really just fall for the oldest trick in the bo-AAAHCK!" Wade let out a scream as he was pounced from behind by a playfully growling Wolverine and landed hard on his stomach with his face hitting the floor. He had seriously misjudged the other man's current ability to fight back.

"Heheh, you really are a fucking idiot. Now let's see how you like this shit...," Logan immediately dug into Wade's ribs from where he sat perched on his back and was more than thrilled by the scream that ripped out of the merc's mouth. He knew there was no way a loudmouth like Wade wouldn't be ticklish.

"Nohohooo Logan wahahahahaait! Ahahaheeheehehehehe! You cahahahan't tihihihickle meheheee! I'm-I'm the 'ler! Nohohot yooooou!"

"The what? What the hell are ya talkin' about now?" Logan didn't let up though while Wade tried to sputter out an explanation.

"The cohohohommunity! Ihihihit's a thihihiing! I g-guess tehehehechnically I'm a swihihihihitch buhuhuhut stihihill!"

Logan raised his brows, looking more confused than before as he ended up just shrugging it off and shaking his head.

"Nevermind. I really don't wanna know. Now shut up and laugh, asshole," Logan's big hands ran up and down his sides, squeezing his waist and making it back up into his armpits as Wade flailed and shrieked and desperately tried to clamp his arms down.

Logan couldn't help but laugh at Wade's reactions with how he had barely started in on him yet.

"Geez. Have ya really been this fucking ticklish this whole time? Looks like we've got some time to make up for," his fingers fluttered around under Wade's arms, producing wild cackles as he wriggled like a worm and tried to scoot across the floor.

"Get off get off! Nooohahahahahaha! I'm nohohohohot tihihihicklish! I'm nohohohohohohot!"

"Well if you're not ticklish then all this shouldn't be botherin' ya, right? Or do you prefer me stabbin' ya better?" Logan smirked as he used the three middle fingers on each hand to simulate his claws as he repeatedly poked at Wade's ribcage with rapid fire speed, "Hehe, now you're dead."

"Gaahaahahahahaha!! Nohohohohot the clahahahahaws! Mehehehehercy!" Wade begged, trying to reach behind him to smack Logan's hands away. Spoiler alert, it didn't work.

"Mercy? Ha! That's a fuckin' good one. Hey, whaddya know. I guess you are funny after all. Hehehe, tickle tickle tickle, fuckface."

Wade's hysterics were increasing in volume by the second and Logan snorted in amusement at the thought that they might get the cops called on them for a suspected murder happening in the apartment.

"Holy shit. Keep it down, will ya? You're gonna wake the-"

"What in the name of Satan's asshole is that horrible noise?!?!" Blind Al shouted in annoyance as she wandered into the room and nearly tripped over the two men roughhousing on the floor.

"Blind Al! Blind Ahahahahal! Hehehehelp mehehehehe!" Wade screamed as he managed to roll over underneath Logan and reach out a desperate hand towards his elderly roommate.

"You're such a dick. Ya know ya don't have to emphasize that she's blind all the time, ya inconsiderate moron," Logan rolled his eyes with a smile as he now had better access to Wade's ribs and stomach and dug right in.

"Baahahahah-Buhuhuhut thahahat's her nahahahahame! B-Becahahahause she's blihihihind! Gehehehet ihihit?!"

The older woman's lips pursed with disdain.

"Please keep torturing him. I will sleep good tonight knowing that stupid motherfucker is suffering," she gently patted Logan on the shoulder as she turned around and made her way out of the room.

"You got it, boss lady," Logan nodded with a smirk and scratched furiously at Wade's stomach, easily avoiding the flailing hands trying to stop him.

"Blihihihihind Al! Aahahhahahha! You trahahahaahaahaitor! Ahahahafter ahahall I've d-dohohohone for yooohoou!"

"Maybe you could gag his bitch ass too," she yelled back over her shoulder, making Logan chuckle.

"She's got a point. You're loud as fuck. Always makin' fun of how I snort while you're over here shrieking like a fuckin' little girl."

With that, Wade was struck with inspiration as he thought of a way to get Logan to stop.

"Yehehehes! Oh yehehehes Lohohohogan! Dohohohn't stop! Th-Thahahat's ihihihit! Tihihihickle me! Tihihickle mehehehe untihihihil I pahahahass ouhohout!" Wade pretended to moan between his laughs as he put his hands flat against the floor to demonstrate that he had no intention of preventing the tickling, though it was a major struggle for him to keep them there.

Logan tilted his head as he stared down at Wade in bemusement.

"Can't tell if you're tryin' to psyche me out into stopping, or if you really do like it that much. I wouldn't put it past ya to actually enjoy being tickled. Not the weirdest thing about you. Either way, if ya say not stop then I won't," Logan smirked and proceeded to tickle him even harder as he kneaded into his hips.

"Noooooohohohoooo! Okaahahaay! I lihihihied! I cahahahan't tahahahahake it! Pleasepleaseplease stooohahahahoooop!" Wade squealed and kicked his legs around and uselessly tried to grab at the other man's wrists to pry him off.

"Now was that really a lie? Are ya sure it wasn't an educated wish?" Logan loved to bring that stupid shit up every once in a while, knowing it would get under Wade's skin.

"So fuhuhuhunny I forgohohot to lahahahaugh, ahahahasshole! Nohohow gehehet off meeeheeheeheee! You fuhuhuhucking mahahahade yohohohour point!" 

Logan was about to make another quip when he heard loud barking and turned his head to see Dogpool come flying over the back of the couch towards them in superhero slow-motion.

She then rushed in to grab Wade by the hair as she pulled with all of her tiny body weight trying to free him.

"Yehehehes! Mary Puhuhuhuppins! Saahahahave pa-pa! Thaahahahat's it!"

"Yeah.....that dog weighs like eight pounds. Hehehe, don't think you're getting away from me just yet, bub," Logan snickered as he dragged Wade closer and plunged his fingers into his armpits, earning another shriek as the merc futilely clamped his arms down and thrashed even harder.

"Looohohohogaaan staaahahahahahahap! I'm-I'm sohohohohoh glahahad to seeheehee-ahahahahhah-see yohohou ehehehembrace thihihis sss-sihihide of you buhuhuhut-AAAAHH! FUHUHUHUCK!!"

A loud ripping sound was heard as Logan looked up in wonderment to see Wade with a hand gripped to his now bald head as Dogpool stood there with his whole hair piece in her mouth.

Logan couldn't help it. The sight of Wade laying there with those fucking staples sticking out of his head and the dog now gnawing on his toupee like a chew toy was just too comical.

He started to laugh. Really laugh. Laughing too damn hard to keep tickling Wade as he literally fell over, holding his sides while his whole body shook in uncontrollable guffaws.

Wade was finally able to sit up as he glared at his hysterical friend, but he had a smile on his face too.

"Really?! That's what makes you laugh?! You seeing me getting hurt is funny to you? Pretty fucked up, you sado," he pretended to sound annoyed, but really he was anything but. It was rare to see Logan laugh like this besides when Wade was tickling him half to death so he'd let him have this for the moment.

Still he had to strike back somehow for this indignity.

"Puppins attack! Kill, my little munchkin! Kill!" Wade shouted as the dog rushed towards the fallen man and jumped onto him. But Dogpool didn't have a mean bone in her body and only knew how to attack with love as she affectionately licked Logan's face much to his aversion.

"Blech! Wahahade! Gehet your dohohog!" He bellowed as he continued to laugh, but other than trying to shield his face with his arms he didn't do much to stop her.

"Okay okay, come here, sweetie pie. Lets get you away from the bad man who tried to kill your pa-pa," Wade reached over and pulled her off of him, setting her into his lap.

Logan finally fought down the giggles as he sat up to find Wade staring longingly at the destroyed toupee in his hand. He kind of felt bad for the guy and thought he should offer some words of encouragement.

"Yeah, that thing's fucked. Big time. But hey, I think you look better without it," he nodded, using his shirt to wipe off his face as Wade gave him a genuine smile.

"You're only saying that because you're drunk," the merc teased back as Logan shrugged in response and grinned broadly.

"You're probably right. I wouldn't touch ya with a ten foot pole."

"That's okay. I don't mind doing all the touching...," Wade gave him a quick squeeze on the side as Logan snorted and lurched away from his reach and got to his feet.

"Don't fucking start that again. I'd say we're even now. Besides, you don't wanna fuck with me now that I know how damn ticklish you are. It's a stalemate. We can put this all behind us and move on. Now if ya don't mind I'd like to get some sleep," he waved the other man away as he grabbed some blankets off the back of the couch to set up his sleeping area.

Wade just smirked as he began walking out of the room with Dogpool in his arms.

"Silly silly Wolvie. I'm not sure you realize the implications of your actions. But I'm afraid this is far from over. You, my friend, have just started a war."

Logan's face fell as he only stared back at Wade in wide-eyed silence.

"Nighty night, Peanut. Sweet dreams," Wade smirked devilishly, waving with wiggling fingers as he flicked off the light switch on the wall.

[melis-writes]

Blood Money (Tony Montana x Reader Multichapter, 18+ Smut) Chapter 3 – An Eye For An Eye.

Chapter 2 / Read on AO3 / Chapter Masterlist.

18+, explicit smut read.

“Your new boyfriend is in Miami." / “I’m here for Tony Montana.”

Tony's fiery gaze burned into the back of your mind but your name etched on his heart from the very moment he knew who you were. Keeping you on his mind like prayer, Tony wastes no time in attempting to squeeze himself out of every interrogation at the Cuban migrant camp he and Manny are detained in. Like a power move claiming he knows you, Tony's beckoning you to meet him once more in your hometown with bold claims striking the attention of your father–one of the most notorious, wealthy businessmen of Miami–with one claim being that of love.

[WARNINGS]: None!

[AUTHOR'S NOTE]: Oh my goodness, a LONG time coming and the chapter update is finally here at last!! 😭💀 I'm thrilled to update this fic again and share it with the Tony girlies! Battling writer's block and life getting super busy was a chore but I. AM. BACK and writing! And yet I must break everyone's heart again by saying this update of Blood Money officially marks my temporary hiatus of Al fics outside of The Godfather universe. 💔 I will now solely be working on my Godfather fanfics until I'm finished so I have ample time and opportunity to write more consistently and update fics even more often than I ever have. I'm definitely not abandoning this fic and I will finish it someday soon! For now, let's dive back into Tony and Celeste's story!! 🥺🤞🏻

With a taste for success and dollar bills, Tony Montana’s drug empire grew in vast wealth, power and influence by your side as the kingpin’s lover. From sharing an intimate history in Cuba, you and Manny Ribera were the only ones to believe and support Tony from rags to riches. Embroiled in the same lifestyle and sharing enemies, you and Tony come to build your empire and world together with the threat of it collapsing from the inside. As partnership turns to betrayal and thrill to danger, you find yourself in-between ultimatums and sacrifices for the man you love.

'I'm always in the right, man. Always am.' The shit-eating grin over Tony's face spreads equal amounts of tension and frustration throughout the interrogation room; keeping the officers on edge for word back from your family knowing Tony could potentially be a protected individual under the Navarro family while thinking at the very same time that Tony could be bullshitting everyone just to waste their time.

Tony sits all too comfortably in front of the officers with his arms crossed, all the more amused watching them huff quietly to themselves and glower back at Tony every few minutes.

"So--" Tony attempts to start a lively conversation on his behalf.

"You shut the fuck up, Montana," the first cop points his finger at Tony. "Don't say a fuckin' word."

"We're not playing with you," the second cop scowls. 

"Alright, man. Alright," Tony shrugs his shoulders loosely, "sheesh. I keep quiet when people talk on the phone, like Mama taught me, okay?"

Letting out another shaky sigh of irritation, the officers exchange a glance amongst one another, knowing well enough that if they've bothered the Navarro family for no good reason, it'll result in a guaranteed suspension without pay and likely following up with getting fired. 

Then again, there's always the possibility that it could be Tony finding himself in hot water with the Navarros due to his cockiness and stupidity, and if that means having Tony out of the refugee camp and no longer able to be a nuisance, then it'll be both a best case scenario and a relief for the officers involved. Still, it's all too much to consider at once.

"Tell the supervisor," the first cop mumbles, "he needs to know what's going on."

"Will do," the other sighs, taking a seat back at his desk to grab out his notepad.

Ignoring Tony outright, the first cop moves his stool over to the telephone by the desk and sits next to it before beginning to dial the Navarro family reception line.

'By heart?' Tony's eyes flicker with interest, noticing how the officer has your family's number memorized by heart—rendering him surprised and amused at the same time. 

'So they know her,' Tony thinks to himself. 'She not a nobody. She a somebody. I got her name on the line for me. Just for me.' 

This means more to Tony than you can already know, even if all you'll ever do is show up to spit on his face and blame him for wasting your time. The satisfaction alone is everything for him.

Both officers continue to ignore Tony and avoid making any sort of eye contact with him; murmuring ushered words to one another and pressing through more numbers on the telephone as it rings.

Only mere moments after does Tony notice how tense the officer on the telephone gets by the way his muscles jerk up in response to the telephone being answered by a monotone-voiced, middle-aged man speaking out.

"Navarro residence."

The very individual answering the phone would be your father's advisor and right-hand man, Gabriel.

"Cuban Detention Center, Officer Frank speaking," the cop says politely, clearing his throat. "May we please speak to Mr. Navarro?"

There's a short pause on the other end of the line. "Do you have a request or appointment booked in advance?"

"No," Officer Frank answers quietly. "Um, ahem—this is in relation to immigration and detention. There's a gentleman here claiming he was requested by name from a potential--" Frank scowls over at Tony. "Sponsor." 

Gabriel's tone of voice grows considerably agitated. "I trust you have a good reason for wishing to bother Mr. Navarro. You will not hear it from me."

"Greatly appreciated," Officer Frank awkwardly replies as Gabriel begins to transfer the call to your father's personal telephone.

Fully aware of the telephone conversation ongoing with Gabriel, your father—Darren Navarro--is two stories up in his penthouse—still in his Versace morning robe, smoking a Cuban cigar.

His first words to Officer Frank once the line transfer is, "You better have a good reason for reaching my personal number, Frank."

"Oh yes sir, o-of course," Frank stammers. "I apologize, sir. I didn't mean to interrupt your day, but this is urgent."

"So you say so," your father is unmoved by the sudden sense of urgency. "I suppose it is coming from the immigration and refugee department. I've sponsored nobody, so what is all of this?"

Officer Frank's skin drains of color as he nervously exchanges a glance with his colleague, glumly shaking his head. "Um, sir, there was a mention of your daughter's name by a Cuban migrant."

Your father raises a brow, leaning back on his velvet chaise. Your last trip to Cuba and mentions of "Tony Montana" and "Manny Ribera" easily come to Darren's mind. 

"Interesting," Darren muses. "And what is this individual's name?"

"Tony Montana," Tony speaks up loud and clear, grinning. "And with my best friend, Manny Ribera."

"Shut the fuck up!" The second cop hisses, almost jumping out from behind his desk to hit Tony.

Darren's all very well aware Tony is in the same room and must know who he is by now, having heard everything. 

"Uh huh," your father chuckles. "I see."

"Sorry, sir. I'm so sorry," Frank scoffs, swallowing hard.

"Stop your whining," Darren rolls his eyes. "I heard the man loud and clear. This is no request for me but for my daughter then."

"The migrant claims to know Celeste Navarro personally, sir." Frank clears his throat.

"Yes, he does. That much is true," your father nods.

"May we speak to Celeste, sir?"

"No need," Darren brushes off the request, glancing towards his bedroom door. "Celeste will soon be on her way to greet both gentlemen personally.

"This man--" Frank begins, but is abruptly cut off and corrected by your father.

"Men," your father clarifies, refusing to exclude Manny. "There are two of them after all, so Celeste will see both. She knows both of them, do I make myself clear?"

"Yes, sir."

"Good," Darren blows out the smoke from his cigar around him, resting his cigar between his fingers as he admires the afternoon light glistening over his gold rings and jewelry. "Treat these men well. I'm aware of the reputation your detention center has and its demands. 'Gentle' is not in your vocabulary so be respectful. These are friends of the Navarro family and I expect them to be treated as such."

"Yes, sir..." Mortified, the officers stare in shock at a smirking Tony before your father hangs up on them.

~

Giving a drawn-out sigh, you roll your eyes in annoyance at the back cover of the gossip magazine you’ve been reading; already questioning why you bother with the tabloids just to entertain you.

Flipping back to the front cover of a bikini model on Miami beach, you rest your chin over your fist, wearing a flowing, pastel pink satin nightgown—laying on your stomach and dangling your feet, attempting to beat boredom.

Frank Sinatra’s “All By Myself” plays softly on your white and gold decorated record player, a compliment to the similar colors lavishly decorated over your bedroom.

Practically the size of a house’s first floor, your bedroom itself spans 1,500 square feet and is fit for a princess, covered in various shades of pink with a glimmering diamond chandelier above you.

The very king-size bed you lounge upon is adorned with a bubble-gum pink cashmere and quilt duvet and six silk encased pillows, a polar bear throw in the center of your bedroom upon the marble floors striking attention to the wall fixtures and architecture of the bedroom taking inspiration from the Palace of Versailles.

You furrow your brows in annoyance at the magazine in your hands, only to have your thought suddenly interrupted by the sound of your father knocking on your door.

You peek up in interest, brushing a curtain of your hair back. “Come in.”

“Hi, darling,” your father enters your room with a warm smile—holding a glass of iced rum in one hand and concealing something in his fist with the other. “Didn’t think I’d be giving you good news so quick, eh?”

Chuckling, your father opens his fist and lightly tosses your car keys over to you.

Reaching your arm out, you snatch the car keys mid-air—staring at your father in confusion. “Huh? What do you mean?”

“Your new boyfriend is in Miami,” your father says with a laugh. “Immigration services at the Cuban refugee camp called me just earlier.”

“Huh,” you blink, rubbing your temple as your memory recollects, hitting you all at once.

“I never say goodbye either. I say you’re gonna remember these faces—my face.”

‘Tony Montana.’ Your face flushes red as you clear your throat, glancing up at your father. “They called you?”

“Mhmm,” your father nods, taking a small sip from his drink. “Quick to it, I’ll give them that. I don’t think that Tony of yours has been there for very long from the sounds of it. They wanted to reach you, actually.”

“Makes sense of course,” you slide aside your magazine, sitting up in bed. “Great…”

“What do you think?” Your father raises a brow.

“I’m not thinking of anything,” you give your head a shake.

“No? You sure you don’t owe this Tony and his friend a favor or two?”

“I don’t owe anyone anything,” you roll your eyes out of frustration. “But for Tony,” you clutch your car keys, “if he wants to see me, I’ll go see him. I’ll see him, but I don’t know what I can do for him.”

“Is this really someone worth wriggling out of months worth of paperwork and getting into the front of the line? ‘Cause I’ll let you decide that,” your father shrugs. 

Getting off of your bed, you eye your purse from across the bedroom. “I think I’ve already made my decision.”

“I’m sure you made the right one,” your father turns back on his heel.

“Is Tony waiting for me right now?” You head over to your walk-in closet.

“He is,” your father confirms, placing his hand over your doorknob to close the door behind him. “And I think you’re the only person he wants to see right now.”

~

‘Tony Montana…’ You let out a soft sigh, leaning your head back against your car’s headrest. ‘Again and so soon.’ With great effort, you push aside the fluttering feeling in your heart every time Tony’s name and face cross your mind; clearing your throat and putting your Armani sunglasses on.

Starting up your Mercedes-Benz 380SL Convertible and pulling out of your estate’s parking lot carefully, you focus on nothing but getting directly to immigration services—able to collect your thoughts.

Letting the warm summer breeze flow through your hair as you step on the gas, determined to know just why Tony’s got your name mixed up with the law.

You may not have taken the rugged, cocky stranger very seriously back in Cuba but you’d be lying to yourself right now if you said you weren’t a little intimidated by Tony’s timing.

‘Didn’t think my name would cross your lips so soon either… Full of surprises.’ 

Tony knows he can sit and wait in the interrogation room for an eternity to come so as long as it’s promised you’ll show up—riding off on the idea of seeing you again like a lingering high.

Driving through the streets of Miami, you tap your French tip manicure against your steering wheel patiently through every red light.

Your eyes flicker over beach-bound tourists making their way over the crosswalks, noting the impatient drivers on the other side of the intersection honking at each other and tossing cigarettes out the window; the scent of body odor and beer not far from the beach itself.

Giving your head a shake, you scrunch your nose in disgust and drive off—not far from reaching the secluded immigration center from downtown.

You arrive a little over ten minutes later, driving into the clearance section with the rest of the other drivers waiting their turn to speak with an officer at the booth and be admitted. 

Resting your arm on the windowpane of your car, you peek your head out of the window just enough for your face to be seen, and just as you expected, you’re recognized by an officer at a booth opposite from you almost instantaneously. 

‘Uh huh.’ Noticing the officer blocking the path of the upcoming car who was next in line, you slowly drive up as he gestures for you to follow.

“How is that fucking fair?!” You hear a honk and shout of irritation from the other driver, simply ignoring him and continuing to cautiously drive up.

“Blow it out your ass, buddy,” the officer rolls his eyes.

Parking your car, you glance up at the officer who only gives you a brief nod and lets you through without a single word; just one of the many perks of being the daughter of one of Miami’s most notorious businessmen.

“Alright,” you mutter under your breath as you approach the guarded parking lot, seeing another officer heading directly your way. ‘Let’s see what this is really all about.’

Taking off your sunglasses, you make eye contact with the officer who furrows his brows at you in confusion; more than likely wondering how you got in so quickly and just who you are to be taking priority over anyone else.

“And who might you be?” The officer asks smugly.

“I think you know who I am,” you reply back coyly. “I’m here for Tony Montana.”

~

As smug and prideful as he can be, Tony slouches in his seat with his arms crossed and completely relaxed as if he’s the one arranging the interrogation rather than being interrogated. 

As apparent as the officers make it seem to Tony how thoroughly pissed, exhausted, and anxious they are dealing with him, Tony reflects it with his nonchalant attitude on purpose.

“You think you’re taking some sort of vacation, Montana?” Officer Frank scowls.

 “Sure, man,” Tony shrugs his shoulders loosely. “I think my vacation is on the way.”

Ignoring the immigration officer who escorts you inside the facility as some mock bodyguard, you make your way towards the entrance of the interrogation offices where the officer gestured you to, making note of the maximum-security gates and barbed wire high walls.

Giving a small huff of annoyance and adjusting your hair, you approach a narrow hallway inside the next building and set your sunglasses on your head.

“This way, please,” the officer guiding you murmurs and politely steps in front of you.

Unphased and hardly listening, you follow the officer until you both reach an interrogation door marked “11B”.

You maintain your distance from both the officer and the door as the officer leans over and quickly knocks on the door not to ask to come in but to signal his entrance.

A wide, playful grin spreads over Tony’s face as he turns his head back to face the door—absolutely thrilled to see it about to open in front of him.

Fear simmers back into the officers the moment they spot a feminine silhouette behind the tinted glass of the door, instantly remembering now more than ever that their jobs are on the line.

Pushing open the door, the officer guiding you inside steps in first and out of your way—clearing his throat to speak out, “Miss Celeste Navarro is here, sir.”

‘Celeste Navarro…’ Seeing you before him once more, Tony’s pupils widen as a strong surge of attraction hits him—coursing through his veins.

Tony’s muscles tighten and he feels the heat of arousal trickling inside of him as he locks eyes with you, stunned and utterly admiring every inch of your figure.

Attempting to look at you with more humility than defeat or nervousness, the officers are put off by your very presence and can say or do nothing as you cross your arms; expectant and domineering before everyone else.

You’re the only spot of color in the otherwise dull room filled with grey uniforms and sweaty men; dressed in an Armani, pastel pink, cropped tweed blazer, a matching mini skirt, a white chiffon Calvin Klein blouse with a bow at your collar and four-inch glossy nude pumps. 

“There she is, she’s the one,” Tony smirks at you—breaking the momentary silence in the room.

“Ahem,” Officer Frank clears his throat, beginning to sit upright in his seat. “You know this man, miss?”

“Do I?” You raise a brow, unamused. “It feels like I’ve known him my whole life.”

“Yes, baby,” Tony mutters to himself inaudibly. ‘Come to me. You’re here now.’

“Miss Navarro,” the other officer begins to speak up awkwardly, “apologies if this is an intrusive question however this man claims to know you and—”

”And she’s my fiancée, as I was telling you. Okay, man?” Tony interrupts, rolling his eyes. “Can I have some privacy with my fiancée, man?”

‘Fiancee? What the hell is he talking about?’ Struck into shock by Tony’s words, you hold your posture and expression, but you know where Tony’s coming from and just why he’s deciding to play this game with you now.

“Yes, so what?” You snap back, noticing the playful twinkle in Tony’s eyes. “It’s true, he is my fiancée.”

‘Tony… I hope you know what you’re doing. I swear… Now is not the time to put on a show.’ 

The officers stare at each other in utter discomfort, remaining silent. 

“But I don’t recall that being anyone’s business except mine,” you narrow your eyes at them, taking a step forward to Tony.

Tony takes your soft hand in his, caressing his thumb over the back of your hand softly. “See?”

“Well,” Officer Frank swallows hard, “if that’s the case—”

Your eyes snap open in shock as Tony leans up in his seat, suddenly cupping both of your cheeks and immediately pulling you into a crushing, deep kiss.

‘Oh!’ Your lips collide over his and your eyes flutter shut in response, feeling the warmth of his tongue teasing the tip of yours in loving passion without a care—ensnared in the moment of having you as his fiancée with no intentions of letting go. 

[wyvernquill]

Another Dreamling Anastasia AU Snippet

So, this AU somehow gained some new traction over the past few days, and I remembered I still had this in my drafts! It's a direct continuation from the last post - the first time their paths cross, though I think I'll save their actual first conversation (already written!) for the next part. Mostly a lot of background and exposition, but I hope it'll be enjoyable nonetheless! Thanks everyone for your enthusiasm for this AU!!!

(Masterpost here!)

(Tag list, let me know if you want to be added or taken off: @10moonymhrivertam @martybaker @globglobglobglobob @anonymoustitans @sunshines-fabulous-legs @dreamsofapiratelife @malice-royaume @kcsandmanfan @acedragontype @okilokiwithpurpose @tharkuun @silver-dream89 @i-write-stories-not-sins-bitch)

(I don't know why it just won't let me do the proper tag sometimes... I hope the people Tumblr refuses to let me tag will see the post anyway, I'm very sorry...)

---

There is a fight just about to break loose at the White Horse Inn.

It will happen because of a man; a pale, stick-thin skinny thing of a man, barely more than an ashen, grimy face under a mop of coal hair balanced on top of a ragged black coat, loitering close to the fireplace and trying not to be too obvious about soaking up its warmth. At his feet, half hidden beneath the torn hem-line of his coat, there is a bird, some sort of corvid, following the other guests - and their purses in particular - with its beady little eyes.

The bird’s master is watching, too, watching the inn’s staff collect coins and shove them into their pockets, watching the plates and bowls of food being carried about, hungry, starving-

And then he’s noticed watching, a barmaid muttering a word or two to the innkeep over by the beer caskets - and the moment the man’s eyes find the stranger, they narrow.

And in turn, the moment the stranger notices the hostile eyes on him, he seems to brace himself, something feral in the way his lips draw back from his teeth as the innkeep makes a beeline for him through the crowded pub.

Words are exchanged.

Words are exchanged, loudly.

An arm is grabbed - and the bird jumps up with an angry caw, beating its wings at the innkeep’s face, and the scullery boy runs over to help, as does the burliest of the barmaids.

(There’s that fight now.)

The stranger shouts and scratches and twists as he is dragged through the common room, towards the door, growling profanities in a hoarse, dark voice, while his bird squawks, wrapped in the scullery boy’s apron.

It’s a right mess, but perhaps not an unusual one - the White Horse makes quick work of unruly drunkards (and those who are here to pilfer money rather than spend it), and even as some guests are following the fight in fascination and with half a mind to join in just for the pleasure of throwing a punch, most of their clientele barely spares them a look. Soon, the stranger will be cast out into the cold and the night again, far away from the warmth of a fireplace, or the smell of food, or opportunities for thievery. Nothing special. Soon, it will be just a quiet evening, like any other…

If it weren’t for the fact that, over in the far corner, a familiar man, and a familiar something-altogether-else still managing a rather sound impression of one, have been nursing their drinks for a good hour already, trying to drown their failures in ale.

(The humans have robbed Destiny of his powers, torn his realm from him, burned his book - but destiny still shapes the lives of mortals and immortals alike; and it is that power, which makes Robert Gadling look up from the sad remains of his beer, and, for just a fraction of a second, lock eyes with the vagabond currently in the process of being removed from the premises.

That is enough.

With just one look, the wheels of fate are already set in motion, and our story can begin in earnest.)

"Hey, Gil." Hob nudges Gilbert's arm, not taking his eyes off the struggling, furious stranger. "Over there. Look."

"Hm?" Gilbert blinks owlishly, following Hob's nod to the commotion behind him. "Oh, yes, yes. Ghastly, isn't it? Disgraceful, that some hoodlums cannot conduct themselves in public houses with the appropriate decorum - in my days, I tell you, when the Endless were still-"

"No, look!" Hob cuts him off. "The hoodlum. Look at him, really look."

"Hrmmm," Gilbert makes a sound of polite displeasure, and fiddles with his circular little glasses, peering through them and across the room, where the haggard stranger is spitting abuse at the innkeep even as he is in the process of being shoved out of the door.

And then, "oh, good lord!" Gilbert gasps, and drops his glasses.

"You see it too, then?"

"I… yes. Gracious, yes. Like a ghostly apparition." Gilbert gropes for his glasses with one hand, eyes never leaving the stranger. "The physical resemblance - most uncanny. A good deal more malnourished and, ah… rather grimy, it seems… and yet, overall…"

"A dead ringer for Dream of the Endless, isn't he?" Hob finishes, nodding. “Better than any of the men that auditioned for us, certainly.”

“Heaven help,” Gilbert’s voice is weak with emotion, “even knowing it isn’t him, I feel like… ah, Robert, if he were only given a bath, some better garb… it would be as if His Lordship walked again!”

“Would be?” Hob’s grin is bright and hungry, like a hunting dog smelling his prey, as he pushes himself up from his seat. “Will be!”

“-and if I see either you or yer blasted bird thievin’ in here again," the innkeep snarls, tossing first the haggard stranger, and then a squawking bundle of black feathers, out into the snow. “I’m callin’ the coppers! Y’hear?”

The word the stranger spits back, gathering all his limbs and his dark coat around himself as he staggers to his feet and off into the night, is so filthy even Hob would blush upon saying it. A bit rough around the edges, this man, not exactly the model of a fairytale king - but such things can be taught, can’t they. Hob’s seen a production of Shaw’s Pygmalion, years ago, and if Higgins can make a fine lady out of a flower girl, then Hob and Gil can make a Dream Lord out of some vagabond.

“Begging your pardon, good man.” Hob leans against the doorframe, watching the stranger’s dark shape angrily stomp off through the snow, bird hopping along at his side. “Howsabout this, a shilling for anything you can tell me about the man you just tossed out of your establishment.”

“Whot, Murphy!?” The innkeep blinks. 

Holds out his hand.

Hob dutifully deposits one of his last few shillings in it.

“Thank you kindly, sir, much obliged.” A tip of the hat, and the coin disappearing in the innkeep’s pocket. “Murphy’s one of the local beggars. A filthy thief, too, and no mistake. He’s trained that raven of his into it - heard the city even pays him some little pittance to control the birds in the area! They wouldn’t do it if they knew what he was doing with ‘em. I don’t like seein’ him around the Horse, not with the trouble he’s causing. Stealing leftover scraps from tables I can forgive, might even give him a full meal now and then in the name of charity - but if he goes for the pockets of my regulars, the regulars don’t come back, understand? Can’t have that.”

“Course not.” Hob agrees readily. “Bad for business, a pickpocket.”

“Just so, sir. He’s been in the London area for… oh, eight, nine, maybe ten years? Hasn’t got a trade, not very willing to do an honest day’s work in any case, can’t hold down a job for the life of him as a result. Still thinks himself better than the rest o’ us, anyway. I’d leave him alone, if I were you - he’s vicious as all Hell, bit the kitchen boy once and the lad needed to get his arm stitched up afterwards. And that raven - the thing’s a demon, swear to God. A familiar, like witches have. If we were livin’ in a less civilised age, they’d’ve strung old Murphy up for witchcraft and devilry years ago!”

Hob hums thoughtfully. “Do you know if he has fallen in with that crowd? Not idle hearsay, mind, but facts. There’s still some men in London who practise the Old Arts, does he meet with them?”

(Hob has heard that the old Magus of Wych Cross died perhaps a year or two after his greatest accomplishment; for all his powers that tore Endless spectres from their lofty thrones, in the end he couldn’t defend himself against his own son finally snapping, smothering him in his sleep, and running off with the gardener. Good riddance to the old goat, in Hob’s opinion - but he had a good handful of supporters in every major city, and they can’t all have died with him.)

The innkeep takes his time answering, staring out into the softly-falling snow.

“...not that I know of, sir.” He finally says, cautiously. “He doesn’t meet with anyone, really, ‘xcept the birds. Solitary type, is our Murphy, with no family, and no-one to miss him if he freezes himself to death some night. But.”

A pause.

“There’s something wrong about that man, if you ask me. He has a look in his eyes… whatever it is, it’s not natural. Might be magic. Might be madness. I really couldn’t say.”

“I see.” Gears are turning in Hob’s head, puzzle pieces slotting into place, plans unfolding.

A man sleeping rough, with nobody to miss him or know much of him, fierce and angry and constantly on the brink of starvation, looking just like Dream. A diamond in the rough, and quite possibly desperate enough to actually agree to their mad plan just for a few weeks of guaranteed food and a roof over his head.

Dear God. He’s perfect.

“One more question, about Murphy.” Hob beams, half-giddy. “Where do you think I could find him, say… tomorrow?”

The innkeep’s eyebrows rise up into his hair.

“Can’t see why you’d ever want to,” he mutters into his beard. “But very well. On your head be it.”

He names a nearby small park, where Murphy often goes to feed his birds, and is rewarded for it with another tuppence; and then Hob saunters back to his and Gil’s table, already feeling like he can almost taste the promise of eternal life on the tip of his tongue.

(“We cannot know for certain that he will agree, Robert. He sounds like a most prideful young man - he is much like His Lordship in that regard as well, I suppose.”

“Oh, he’ll agree. I’ve been where he is, Gil, and there were times I would’ve sold my own mother to the devil for a warm meal and a bed to sleep in. Not that the devil would’ve taken the old bat even if I’d paid him, of course, but it’s the principle of the thing.”

“That hardly makes it much better. We’d be taking advantage of the poor man’s unfortunate situation!”

“Everyone’s situation is unfortunate these days. And we’d be improving his, on the whole, along with ours.”

“Let it be noted, dear fellow, that I am voicing my ethical and moral quandaries.”

“I really don’t think our plan to scam the Endless is very ethical in the first place, Gil.”

“...now that I cannot possibly argue with.”

“There we are then.”

“However! You will have to be the one to suggest it. I will help you instruct him and present him to the Endless if you do convince him - but for now, I wash my hands of the matter.”

“Fair enough.”)

[stargazer-sims]

Professor Belle

Belle: Félix, can I go with you to the excavation site tomorrow?

Félix: Of course, but I'll need you to stay with me the whole time. I have a new group of students, and they'll need to focus. I don't want them thinking they have to babysit you.

Belle: No one has to babysit me. I'm a member of the research team. Right?

Félix: Yes, but the students might be skeptical of that. Not every person your age is as responsible and intelligent as you, and unfortunately, some people have a tendency to prejudge.

Belle: Well, that’s just dumb.

Davian: *laughing* It's good to know the youngest member of the research team can still act like a ten year old.

Belle: I'm responsible and intelligent, but nobody said I was a grownup.

Davian: Fair point.

Félix: But you are mature, and we can trust you. That's why you're allowed to come to the excavation site.

Belle: Yeah. Can you imagine my friends at the site? Junior would probably break stuff, and you'd always have to be getting Caroline down from a tree or something. I know I should only climb trees around the field station.

Davian: We'd be happier if you didn't climb trees anywhere, but you know the risks, so...

Belle: Evaluate my choices, right?

Davian: Right.

Belle: I'll be too busy to climb trees tomorrow anyway. I have discoveries to make and students to teach.

Félix: Oh? Are you taking over for me, Professor Belle?

Davian: She probably can teach them something, you know. She's already got more archaeological experience than they do.

Félix: I'll tell you what, Belle. Why don't I let you have a few minutes to instruct the students tomorrow? You can be my assistant. We'll practice this evening so you'll know what you want to say when the time comes.

Belle: Yay! I'm going to be the best assistant you've ever had, I promise!

Félix: I have no doubt.

Belle: So, if I'm going to the site tomorrow and I'm going to be busy all day, does that mean I can skip my math lesson?

Davian: No. It means you'll have to do extra lessons the day after. Just because you're in the rainforest and you're learning cool stuff that isn't in your school books, that doesn't mean you get to ignore them. Remember, there's still going to be a test.

Belle: So, I guess the right choice would be to get ready for the test. I just wish I liked math more.

Félix: It's okay if you don't like it. Nobody can force you to like things. I'm not friends with math either, and when I was your age I was much happier following my father all around Al-Simhara and making discoveries with him. But I had to study math as well, because I needed it to graduate high school and get into university.

Belle: I'm going to university some day. I guess that means I have to be nice to math, even if we're not friends.

Félix: Be nice to math and it'll be nice to you.

Belle: *giggling* By helping me get into university?

Félix: Exactly so.

Belle: I can live with that.

Davian: Now that we've got that settled, how about we do a little exploring before dinner? I'll bet we can find some awesome butterflies if we take that trail over there. Check out all the flowers. I hear tropical butterflies love those.

Belle: Yes! Félix, can Davian and I borrow your camera? I want to take pictures if we see any butterflies. Then I can identify them and write a paragraph for my science journal.

Félix: That sounds like a good idea. While you and Davian are out butterfly hunting, I'm going to catch up with Dr. Santiago. I'll see the two of you at dinner at the field station.

Davian: Sounds good.

Belle: If we find any butterflies, we'll tell you all about it!

Félix: I can hardly wait. Good luck.

Belle: I think it's more about scientific methodology than luck.

Félix: *smiling* In that case... good scientific methodology, Professor Belle. I await your report on your findings.

[1heartfanfics]

Are you still writing for your OCs? If so I would love to see Jackson throwing up all over the kitchen floor and Kaiuser taking care of him.

Jackson hadn't been feeling particularly well all day. Thankfully it was his weekend off, so he didn't have to go into work, but it was rather upsetting to spend his day off on the couch, not being able to do anything.

He'd woken up feeling sick to his stomach. At first he didn't think much of it, taking a TUMS and using the bathroom, but it didn't get any better. In fact it had only gotten worse since then. He hadn't thrown up yet or anything, but his stomach was churning even though he hadn't eaten anything today and he was definitely starting to feel queasy.

He thought about texting Kaiser, but he was working today, so it's not like he could do anything anyway. And he probably wouldn't be home until 3 or 4.

So Jackson just moped about the apartment, alternating between watching criminal minds and taking naps. He tried to eat a few crackers around lunch time but it immediately made him feel 10 times worse so he gave up and settled for a few sips of water instead.

He must have fallen asleep again, because he suddenly woke up with a gasp, feeling dizzy and hot. Groaning, he felt around for his phone to see what time it was. 3:47pm. Hopefully Kaiser would be home soon.

Jackson slowly pushed himself up into a sitting position and turned to put his feet on the floor. His mouth was so dry and he felt like he was on fire. He reached for his glass on the coffee table but found it empty. He needed water.

The whole world seemed like it was spinning, but he managed to stand up and trudge to the kitchen without falling over. He filled up his glass with water from the tap and took a sip. As soon as he swallowed though he knew he'd made a mistake. His stomach immediately rejected the new addition to its contents.

He clamped a hand over his mouth, feeling his stomach turn. Biting back a gag, he set the glass of water down and steeled himself to make a run for the bathroom. Before he could even take another step though, his body took over. He pitched over with a heave, bringing up a mouthful of water and stomach acid onto the kitchen floor.

"Oh, Jesus Jay!" Kaiser exclaimed, having just gotten home and come into the kitchen looking for his boyfriend. Jackson hadn't even heard him come in. Kaiser quickly rushed to his boyfriend's side, placing one hand on his back and grabbing him by the shoulder with the other. He looked like he was about to keel over.

"Hey, hey, easy, I've got you baby," Kaiser said, rubbing circles over Jackson's t-shirt while he continued to heave. There wasn't much coming up anymore, but his body seemed intent on turning itself inside out.

"Fuck," Jackson spat, out of breath and shaking from the exertion. "I'm s-so sorry."

"Don't apologize dummy, come on, let's go sit, you're shaking," Kaiser shook his head, taking Jackson by the arm to help him straighten up. Together, they slowly made their way back to the couch. "Here love," Kaiser helped Jackson lay down, draping a blanket over him.

"Thank you," Jackson practically whispered, feeling so tired suddenly.

"I'm so sorry you're sick Jaz, you could've called me," Kaiser said, crouching down next to the couch to be at Jackson's eye level.

"You were at work," Jackson shrugged.

"I know, but I could have at least picked up some ginger ale or gatorade on the way home if I knew you were sick. Do you want me to go out and grab you some?" Kaiser asked, reaching a hand out to brush Jackson's hair off of his face, smoothing it back.

Jackson shook his head. "It'll just come back up. My stomach doesn't feel good," he said.

"I know baby, but you don't want to get dehydrated. You need to drink something," Kaiser said, cupping Jackson's cheek in his hand. The poor boy was burning up.

"Later?" Jackson asked pitifully, sounding almost close to tears.

"Okay," Kaiser sighed, "Later. How about you try to get some rest and when you wake up we'll try some water okay?" he agreed

Jackson nodded, "Okay."

"Alright, get some sleep love, I'll be right here if you need anything," Kaiser said, leaning over to kiss Jackson's feverish forehead, his eyes already drifting closed.

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

Sorry I haven't written in forever and this is super short but here's something because we're on thanksgiving break.

[agena87]

Joy: No! Don't wanna! Don't wanna! Wolfgang: Kätzchen... We talked about it. J: No, no, no, no, no! W: Yes. J: Please, Vatti. No bwush. W: Joy. You have to brush your teeth. J: (sniffs) But... hurts. W: I know, Kätzchen. You still have to, or it'll hurt even more when you grow up. And if you brush your teeth, I'll take you to the studio later. J: The paint room? W: Yes. The paint room. Now. What will you do? J: Bwush!

Mal: Is my little princess actually brushing her teeth without making a fuss? J: Uh um! Vatti said if I do, I can go to the paint room with him! M: Really? What will you paint? J: A pony! And Daddy, and Vatti, and unc' Zonny, and unc' Don, and oma Mila, and opa Macus, and unc' Lucas, and aunty Max, and ganpa Geoff, and a big doggie! M: Not granma Nancy? J: No! She's mean to Daddy and unc' Zonny! Vatti! I finish bwushin'! W: Have you? J: Yes! W: Mmm... I think... You can go play while I finish getting ready.

Joy leaves the bathroom, running.

M: You're so good with her. W: She's a good kid. M: Still, you're a great parent. W: I'm not her parent, though I love her as if she was mine. M: She could be. Officially, I mean. You could adopt her, there's still room for one more parent on her papers, with Lily abandoning her parental rights. W: I don't think I cou... What are you doing?

M: Marry me? W: What? M: I love you. You love me. Wait, you do, right? W: Of course, you idiot! (laughs) M: Just checking. Then marry me, and you'll be officially allowed to adopt Joy. We could be a real family. Please? W: I... Yes? Yes! M: Really? W: YES!

M: You have no idea how happy you make me. W: I might have, if it's the same way, you make me happy. M: I love you. W: Love you too!

---

Bonus under the cut of Joy and the "tattoo" she drew on herself to match Daddy (which, she doesn't know how to write)-but it's OK, she's not even four yet)

Cutest kid ever.

---

So. That was (more or less) my dream from last night. I don't know if it'll ever be canon, so I'll tag this as "extra", but I really like the idea of malgang getting married, I have to confess. What would that mean for Al and Jeb, I don't know (apparently, I don't know anything about this story), but we'll see.

[cactusnymph]

Will you write more Astarion/Karlach/Wyll for the Touches Ask Game? What about #42 for hand-holding ("dragging the other with them, holding their hand")?

"I'm going to fucking melt", Karlach groans, desperately trying to fan herself with one of Astarion's books but the relief it brings is minimal. Gods, she needs some ice cold ale or maybe she needs Astarion to lie on top of her like a living cooling pad.

She doubts that he would indulge her.

"One might think that you'd be less affected by heat than the rest of us", Wyll muses. His beautiful dark skin is gleaming with sweat and Karlach tries very hard not to let her mind wander too much because. That is not on the table at the moment.

"I know right? Fuck Zariel for giving me this stupid engine and it doesn't even make me immune to fucking heat", she says and protests when Astarion pulls the book out of her hand.

"That's expensive, darling", he says, entirely unimpressed by her suffering.

"I'm priceless", she sniffs and Wyll laughs while Astarion raises one perfectly plucked eyebrow at her. There is a twitch in the corner of his mouth though that suggests that he's almost smiling. Karlach loves following the laughter lines on his face when he thinks she's not looking. Or well. Even when he knows she's looking, really.

"Maybe we should just go and take a swim", Wyll suggests and Karlach wants to kiss him.

"Holy fuck, you're a genius", she breathes and goes to hug him. Fuck, they're both so sweaty.

"Oh good. Does that mean I'll get some reading time now?", Astarion asks but Karlach will hear nothing of it.

"No, you're coming with", she proclaims and Astarion blinks at her.

"Uh—", he starts but Karlach is already on the move, grabbing his slender hand with hers and then Wyll with her other hand as she pulls the both of them towards the lake near their camp. How in the nine hells didn't she think of this sooner?

"Skinny dipping", she shouts full of joy and excitement, entirely ignoring Astarion's complains and Wyll's gentle protests about getting naked. It's not like she'll force anyone to undress but fuck, she is going to be so fucking naked. The sun can suck her dick.

When they reach the lake Karlach lets go of her boys' hands and rips off her pants first, then her bra and finally her underwear before turning around to face Wyll and Astarion. Wyll's eyes are very wide and fixed on her face with a look that makes Karlach chuckle.

Fuck, he's so endearing when he's trying to be a perfect gentleman.

Astarion meanwhile has no qualms about looking at her but he still looks as if he's ready to murder her.

"Come on, it'll be fun!", she promises.

"It most certainly will not be", Astarion sniffs. "I'm a vampire, in case you forgot. I can't swim."

Karlach blinks and turns her head to look up at the sun high at the sky before lowering her gaze again only to catch Wyll staring at her tits which makes her feel a rush of delight and excitement. She points up at the scorching summer sun in the sky.

"You sure that swimming is off the table, Fangs? It's pretty sunny and you're totally fine", she says. Astarion huffs.

"Maybe I don't want to tempt fate too much", he says with a dismissive gesture but his eyes wander over Karlach's body as if her being naked is more tempting to him than he lets on.

"Pretty please?", she says and does her best of a puppy eye expression. Maybe this doesn't work as well while she has her tits and dick out, but Wyll at least seems to want to indulge. Karlach tries very hard not to stare when his muscular torso is exposed, revealing the two horizontal scars on his chest and that pretty trail of hair leading into his pants that she keeps staring at while he's wearing his camp clothes.

She can be normal. She can be totally chill about this. And she has to jump into the cold water immediately before her dick gets too excited.

"Last one in the water loses!", she shouts and turns around to run into the water before taking a dive headfirst. Cool silence meets her underneath the surface and man. Yet another awesome thing on this wonderful world. In Avernus she would never have been able to take a swim in a cool lake on a summer day.

When she breaks through the surface she throws her head back and beams, looking to see if Wyll has already followed her. And indeed, his head is floating close by, a soft smile on his face while he watches her.

"That was a pretty great idea", he says and looks pleased with himself. Karlach laughs and splashes him with water before turning her head to look for Astarion who is still standing on the shore of the lake, looking down at his nails as if nothing concerns him.

Patience, Karlach. Patience.

Fuck, she's so bad at patience.

To distract herself from the desperate need to throw Astarion over her shoulder and drag him into the lake she reaches for Wyll, discovering that he is indeed entirely naked.

More patience. Alright. No big deal.

At least she can kiss him so she does, pulling Wyll close while her toes dig into the soft sand on the bottom of the lake. Wyll sighs against her lips and Karlach wishes someone would give her a gold star for not getting a boner right now. She hugs him tight, feeling his naked legs wrap around her waist.

Yup. She can be normal. She can be totally not horny about this.

"Well now you're just both being terribly rude", Astarion complains and Karlach pulls back to look at him over Wyll's shoulder.

"Come in, Fangs", she urges. Astarion huffs.

"I value my life and have no interest in wasting it on a glorified bath that doesn't even have bubbles in it", Astarion says but Karlach is pretty good at reading him by now and she gets that he's scared.

"Be right back", she says to Wyll and kisses him again before detaching from him and walking back onto the shore and towards Astarion who eyes her suspiciously. He doesn't protest when Karlach pulls his white shirt over his head and he allows her to open his pants. She revels in the flush on his cheeks and his stubborn crossing of arms in front of his naked, white chest.

He's much more slender than Wyll and way less hairy and gods, so, so fucking pale in the bright sunlight. Karlach finds him so beautiful she would love nothing more than to fuck him right here by the lake.

But.

Not now.

Now she takes his hand and pulls him towards the water slowly, watches as he stares down at his feet as they touch the surface for the first time. His breath hitches and he blinks before taking another step. He's up to his ankles now.

"See?", she says softly and smiles at him. "I got you."

Astarion glares at her but there's no heat behind it. Wyll joins them and takes his other hand.

"If you let me drown I'll come back to haunt you forever", Astarion warns as he wades in deeper while holding onto both of their hands like a lifeline.

"You're too hot to let you drown", Karlach jokes to give him an opportunity to deflect his fear with flirting and snark like he usually does.

"So true, darling. I'd be a waste of a perfectly handsome vampire", Astarion answers. When he's up to his waist he stops, looking out over the surface as if he's deep in thought and overwhelmed by all the things he can do now that the tadpole has freed him from his former master. Karlach can relate.

"You are so brave", Wyll says softly and presses a kiss to Astarion's temple for which he's immediately splashed with water again. Karlach laughs and allows herself to float on the cool water surface, never letting go of Astarion's hand.

feel free to send me more of these <3

[eraserisms]

I came back into the RP community wanting to write an old character (Alastor) but I'm not sure that I'm going to end up doing that. I feel that Shota and Alastor have so much overlap that I've kind of ended up just blending them into one. I played Alastor first and developed his background, but when I started BNHA/MHA, I think I started to see those themes in Shota as well. It's likely what drew me to Shota in the first place, which is funny because I ignored his ass for like 2 seasons since I was so invested in Izuku's story.

So while Al and Shota do have a lot of differences, they both fall under such similar tropes/personality traits that I feel that I would have difficulty making Alastor uniquely different to Shota. I still want to revamp my multi-blog and have been thinking about who I want to play and a few characters I know will likely but not guaranteed make the list; Abed Nadir from Community Dexter Morgan from Dexter C-137 Rick Sanchez from R & M Rufus Shinra from FF7 I was thinking about adding a few BHNA characters like Stain and Oboro. With Oboro in mind, I also want to make the effort to write a character with a personality that don't quite fit my usual character criteria; grumpy, depressed, lonely men who are usually assholes (Abed is the exception). I want to challenge myself to write characters that have a sunnier disposition or on the flipside; are truly evil (Rufus sucks/is the bad guy, but he does get better). It'll probably take me a while to get that blog up and running, considering how many things I've still got to hash out/meta/headcanon for Shota. But I'll be sure to let everyone know when I do!

[fuzzydreamin]

My Fallout Writing Projects + Ideas

Alright, here's a list of the things I have for anyone interested in my plans and dumb thoughts.

I'm only trying to actively work on my main stories atm, but I hope to get to a few of my side stories at some point too - probably as palette cleaners between writing my bigger projects.

Main Stories

Give Me Sanctuary

Fallout 4 retelling. It's a huge project that's gonna cover pretty much all of the in-game content retold as a story, as well as changing things so that they make more sense both for being told as a story instead of a game that has to have a certain amount of tracks, and just in general for the things that don't make too much sense as they are atm. Multiple POV, centered on my OC built from the base female player model - Nora.

Tons of additions too. Companions will all have even more of a personal story and conclusions, relationships of all kinds will be explored, and background characters will be fleshed out, including bringing in some NPCs that are basically nobody or barely exist in-game beyond a mention, etc.

It's gonna be long, it's gonna be very self-indulgent, and it's gonna take me time, but time passes anyway and I'm gonna have fun putting it all together. It's for me.

Icarus Into Acheron

Fallout 3 story all about Alberta. I'll probably have to make this one while working on GMS as it would help make sense of things when Al shows up in Nora's story - though that won't be until somewhere around the final third or quarter. It won't be as long as GMS either, as I won't be going into the whole of Fo3 or hopefully doing too many massive rewrites to the games' story.

Mostly covers leaving Vault 101 to taking down the Enclave and the changes and challenges Al faces between then. There will still be a lot of the side quest stuff included as Al works their way around the Capital Wasteland gaining caps and contacts, but I'll also likely be leaving some of the side quests and DLC stuff for smaller additional stories rather than having them all together. They need things to do during their wandering phase after all.

While I said earlier that it would help make sense of Al's background and personality, I won't say that it would be required reading as IIA will have themes of SA which some might not be comfortable reading (it'd be dub-con moreso than non-con but that's a personal line to draw and I feel a warning is still needed). While violence in general isn't something I'll be shying away from in GMS, IIA will certainly be a much darker story overall mostly because of these themes and their impact on Al and the story.

But don't worry if you wouldn't want to read that, there will still be a certain level of explanation going on in GMS for Nora (and the reader) to understand the situation anyway. It just gives a deeper look into how everything came to be in relation to what's going on with Al. Writing the actual story down mostly helps me know what is concrete about it all - there's a lot I hesitate to say is canon about my OCs and stories until it's written down in full context and I don't hate it.

Side Stories

These may not happen in the orders listed - or some at all depending on how the main stories go. They're just ideas I have so far that don't fit into the main stories, usually because they don't happen in the timeframe of them.

Icarus Related

The Pitt - How Al gets caught up in that and deals with it. And it doesn't end any of the ways the game lets you do so because it's dumb and I hate it.

Mothership Zeta - Being kidnapped by aliens is canon to Al.

Point Lookout - Al hanging out with annoying the pants off of Desmond. Would defs have his POV and how he thinks of Al, comparing them to a mutt dog. They're a menace but a menace he can use. It'll be fun.

Harold/Bob might be it's own story. Maybe other interesting side quests that don't fit into the timeframe of IIA.

GMS Related

Danse leading an expedition on the newly refurbished USS Constitution to find wild horses/sleipnir for the Minutemen (Preston's busy and Danse knows more about ships in general). Has a few other companions along for the ride, as well as a lot of crewmembers under his command. Danse has a great time (/sarc).

Captain Zao fixing up the Yangtze so that he can go home, taking a test voyage that leads to Vault 120 - Idea surrounded Nora being the one to go with him (she tells very few people about the submarine) but she might be busy during the timeframe I initially planned for...

How Nora loses her leg several years after GMS.

Series of small prequel fics about the companions lives before the start of Fallout 4 - Origin stories. Things like M7-97 escaping the Institute and becoming Danse, Nicks earlier days out in the wastes and going from handyman to detective, Deacon and Barbara. Stuff like that.

Future fic. The kids have their own adventure. This is where my girl Barbie comes from, but she's not really a main character /doesn't get many if any POVs.

Alternate Universe Stories

Some of these have rough outlines, some are still just collections of ideas. I'm not actively writing any of these since I'm just focusing on my main fic, and some plot points in them won't make sense without being able to reference back to base-game changes and large events in GMS anyway. These essentially go in order of which I have more planned out.

We Dig Two Graves

Part 1: Fools Rush In: The bombs didn't fall. War continues on. Nora, unable to rejoin the JAG now that she's had Shaun and wants to stay close to him, joins the Cambridge police in some way (probs not an officer - need to look into it) and meets human Nick Valentine post the whole Eddie thing.

Very slice of life slow-burn romance with some drama and mystery tossed in. Explorations of love and grief and morality and the burdens of society, culminating in the two eventually going against the law and secretly hunting Eddie and his lot down. Nick and Nora end up having a daughter together - poly with Nate.

Part 2: Where Angels (Fear To) Tread: The bombs do fall! Now several years after when they should have (Shaun is about 3-4).

This time thing doesn't change much else about the world itself besides what explicitly happened in the prequel cause I can't be fucked doing all that. Human Nick went into Vault 111 with Nora and the kids in Nates place because Nate wasn't home and they needed to get to safety. He held onto Shaun while Nora had their daughter with her.

Both Nora and their daughter are stolen by Kellogg, with Nora insisting on being taken with her child rather than putting up a fight, knowing it would likely get her killed.

Nick dethaws later with Shaun and has to venture around the Commonwealth as the 'Sole' Survivor looking for his lost family while balancing looking after his son. Ofc he meets synth Nick, who is still the same as he is in-game and running on the recently post-Winter's End memories, thus he has no idea what happened in the prequel after his conciousness split from human Nick.

Nate is a ghoul, he gets to live in this AU damnit.

There Is No Sky

Something suddenly goes wrong™ with the world. It's a 'the apocalypse turned up' AU. The land goes sour, animals start to die, the air isn't good anymore, and people start turning to cannibalism to survive. It's chaos. It's fun. It's sad. A lot of people, including some companions, die or are maimed in some way. I really abuse a lot of characters in this, but I still plan to give it a 'happy' ending because by god did I want to give these characters back something after all I will put them through.

Blood and Thunder

Overboss Nora AU. Events go slightly differently when Nora goes to Nuka World and she has to take on becoming a raider boss for real this time. As she unites the raiders of the Commonwealth under her banner her former companions are stuck either trying to stop her or still facing down the Institute and their own problems.

At some point she and Maxson form an alliance between her raiders and the Brotherhood against the Institute, hence the title. The story focuses on exploring individuals limits, morality, what a person is willing to give up or do to others to protect what they hold dear, revenge and the idea redemption, etc.

Unnamed Cyberpunk-ish AU

The genre, not that show/game. This one actually mostly revolves around Danse and Hancock, and this world's version of The Railroad, which helps both synths and ghouls.

It's an AU where the bombs never dropped, the war ended, and the fallout pre-war society continued on into an even more futuristic age. However the impacts from the war still play a huge part in how that society functions, including how people went into vaults before they anticipated bombs falling and were still turned into science experiments because they had essentially signed away their rights to vault-tec, ghouls existing in modern society thanks to general radiation pollution and being shunned and hidden or even stolen away by the government, Institute and synth related things not dissimilar to in-game but in some cases more open and backed by the government, space travel (moon and mars), and more.

This is one of the ones that's still more of a collection of ideas than anything concrete yet. General jist is that there's a lot of bad shit happening that's just treated as normal, and Danse wants to go to space. If Nora does show up in this somehow she will probably play a much smaller part and won't be a main character or POV.

Other Stuff

I've got a few one-shot ideas too, but nothing worth mentioning. Honestly, it's mostly smut.

In regards to my Fallout 76 character, Jack, his story won't be done in a stright forward manner. I'm thinking something like journal entries, maybe some visual stuff if I can get the energy. I'm still figuring him out but I have some basic ideas.

As far as New Vegas and other games go, I have no real plans for anything for now. I haven't played them and am sort of holding off while I concentrate on my east coast content. I do want to see them and create some more OCs, but as you can see I have quite enough to keep me occupied for now. I'll probably play NV and create some OC's, but it would be a while before I really got into any stories for them.

[spiriteddreams]

hello friends i bear unfortunate news (it's not that unfortunate i'm just tired and dramatic) :(

i wanted to put this out there just bc there's a lot going on and i do have suggestions for writing ideas in my inbox. i know people are waiting for things to be written and i've expressed excitement to write all sorts of things but i've ultimately decided to take one small step back for the sake of my own wellbeing

while i may have time tomorrow on valentine's day to write and maybe finish some fics, i'd much rather spend it celebrating with my friends instead of writing here. so i apologize if anyone was looking forward to something sweet tomorrow.

i will continue to write (albeit slowly) and ramble and reblog and whatnot here, but actual writing will not be like every few days or however often i would post (i don't even think it was that often but whatever lol)

anyways! i hope that everyone has a very lovely valentine's day. whether it's spent with loved ones, friends, or a fictional character, know you are very loved on this day and i'm wishing you all the best!

more under the cut but you don't have to read it lol

i wanted to, and have been trying, to post something for valentine's day but at the rate that i'm going, i don't think it's going to happen. and going forward, writings are likely going to be a lot slower to come out. i've started another job (now my 3rd) on top of an increasing workload and pumping out my kazuha fic for my studio ghibli event just doesn't seem plausible by tomorrow. while i did set a deadline of he 28th, i was hoping to have it done by the 14th. but after spending so long on al-haitham's bday fic and then my own schoolwork, i'm far too exhausted to do so.

should something be posted tomorrow, it'll likely be a very short fluff drabble for whatever character i'm thinking of at the time. i'm still brainrotting so hard like imagine inumaki toge being my valentine's day date like....... so baby <3

but in general, because of how much time i'm dedicating to school and work, i likely won't have as much time to sit down and seriously write.

i hope that come next quarter i'll be able to get a handle on organizing myself better and creating a proper schedule that works for me. maybe then i'll write even more hehe but for now i do think it's crucial that i don't spend so much time writing fanfics

of course, i'm always open to talk and scream and cry about fictional characters so don't hesitate to reach out :D

[construingseacats]

Ahoy! Just going to make a quick housekeeping post before we get cracking in a few days.

I'll be keeping the reread thoughts organised per chapter, and posting at a pace of around once per day. Note that this won't be uniform, so it might be closer to posting about 2-3 chapters twice per week. I'm aiming to read about 5-6 chapters a week, so that's the pace we're looking at. Needless to say, we're gonna be here for a good few months.

While Umineko has stuck with me for all these years, my memory isn't perfect, so there'll probably be a fair few points I've forgotten about until I'm refreshed on them. Obviously I know the "culprit", but I don't remember the finer details of the cases off the top of my head. I might refresh myself with Will's solution from Episode 7, but that'll be the extent of it.

That being said, very importantly for this reread, Death of the Author is in full effect. I know things were further clarified in the manga, and Ryukishi has gone on record saying that those were the canon answers. I know of Our Confession et al. I'm not taking those into account for this - we're going full purist, so if it's not in the original Episodes 1 through 8, it's fair game. I feel part of the magic of Umineko is that the catbox is never opened (I mean, isn't that the whole point of Episode 8?), so I'm not going to taint that with media that was released after the fact.

That also means this commentary is going to be for Episodes 1-8, and that's it (I say "that's it" as if going through the 1.1 million or so total words are a trivial affair, ha). If there's enough interest I might push into Last Note of the Golden Witch as an addendum, and I wouldn't be opposed to going through Purgatory of the Golden Witch as an afterword. Friendly reminder that Uminetta is a shining star in the community and one of the kindest, most wonderful souls out there.

Also, some quick information about me! Umineko is a very personal story, so what you get from it is drastically effected by the kind of person you are. The first time I read Umineko, I was a 17 year old kid from England getting ready to study Mathematics at University, who'd watched the anime at way too young of an age and wanted to read the proper story behind it. I was really interested in the mystery, but fell way too deep into the fantasy elements (even missing the obvious hints in Episode 3), and still didn't really get the truth of it even after Will's section in Episode 7 (even though I'd encountered the true identity of the culprit). I also fully knew I was asexual, and I'd kind of heard about transgenderism, but didn't really understand it. 10 years on, I'm still very much a writer at heart (and much better equipped to actually write well), a cog in the machine of capitalism desperately trying to escape and pursue more creative endeavours, and not quite sure what's going on under the hood but definitely not cis. I think pretty much all the gender themes went over my head on my first read of Umineko - it'll be interesting to see how much stuff hits close to home this time.

Anyway - starting on Wednesday. Will be going through the Prologue up to the end of Epitaph on the Portrait, then around 6 chapters a week from there, only stopping once we've gone through all 8 Episodes. I'm estimating we'll run for about 24 or 25 weeks, although that's assuming we don't stop for any breaks. Itll be a long journey to the Golden Land - so to anyone who ends up joining me on this, be it as it happens, or some time in the far future, I hope you enjoy it with me.

[halflingkima]

First Chapter Test: Romance Edition

so i finished that regency romance/crime thriller and wanted more of that vibe and yes i have 12 other books checked out but the other night i got drunk and put a bunch more on hold. this'll include the romances i mentioned in my last first chapter test, but i figure it'll be helpful to have them all in the same place.

Palace Project

In the Case of Heartbreak by Courtney Kae: I've had In the Event of Love on my TBR for a bit, but it's a holiday read and i def wanna read that in the appropriate season, so i was pleased to find the sequel is set in summer! how timely. apparently it's a friends to lovers/best friend's sibling sitch with a sorta baking contest involved. the writing style is promising, it's weakest point being the sequel-catch-up spiel: the rapid intro of a bunch of characters real fast made my head spin. but i think it'll be okay from here on.

Hockey Bois by AL Heard: Was a little put off when this one had a fanfiction-style tags/tropes list up front, but the writing style is perfectly good. The main character is just starting to play hockey on a team/in a league as an adult, and the stoic team star takes an interest in helping him practice. I'm hoping the "grump" role will slip from the love interest soon, but it's a really decent start, and i will probably continue.

The Mastermind by Amy Lane: Amy Lane is truly hit or severe miss for me and i've not enjoyed a book of hers in a while. i've been interested in this heist/con artist series for a while, but never enough. i know i've read this first chapter before, and rereading it, remembered why i put it down: the main plotline focuses directly on a (white) woman "ruining" a man's "legacy" through falsifying claims of discrimination. While i know the author to treat her women characters very well, the concept still makes me uncomfortable. I think i'll press on for now, but i can easily put it down if there's nothing intriguing enough to make up for the unbelievable female antagonist set-up. Also: a LOT of telling in this first chapter, when I would've liked the characters' past to unravel over a bit more time.

String Theory by Ashlyn Kane: Wanted to read a hockey romance, but Palace doesn't have the first of this author's series, and i don't wanna skip around in that one, so I compromised with this unrelated book. that being said, this was surprisingly the weakest link on this platform so far (i had very low expectations for Hockey Bois). The opening was a little confusing – i think i read the prologue? also haven't met the second character, and all i learned in this one is that one of the main characters is a slut with a very stoic roommate lmao. I'll hold out until i meet both characters, but i'm 50/50 on this one.

Physical

A Marvelous Light by Freya Marske: Oh I had high hopes for this one based on all the good things i've heard and my recent regency mood but the first chapter did not serve it well. It's regency(?) era with magic, and i think i remember there's a sorta mystery (thriller?) aspect to it, but the very short first chapter has a lot of samey characters with little worldbuilding and a lot of action, which while a strong way to start, is not the vibe i was looking for at the moment. i don't think i'll fully dnf now that it's in my possession, but it will probably sit in my pile of shame for a while before it get to it.

The Prospects by KT Hoffman: ok first of all, didn't realize the main character is also TRANS and now i'm HYPE about it. the first chapter was great 10/10 no notes i fuckin love sports romances i'm so glad this is finally out and owned by my library system and in my HANDS

The Ride of Her Life by Jennifer Dugan: The true panic cover "buy" (check-out). I have no clue what it's about but it was available and had two ladies on the cover. And looked a lil country, but I think it's about horses? The most stereotypical first chapter in the world, didn't reveal all that much, but the writing style is very readable. I truly have no verdict on this, i'll have to get a little further.

Hoopla

Delay of Game by Ari Baran: Knowing the main characters of this book from the previous one in the series, this story def started as a bucky/cap hockey au and i KNOW it's gonna be stunning. that being said, the first few bits are a huge flashback and reframe the characters a lot, which kinda knocked me for a loop. I'm also afraid to read this before my library has the next one; i need my book safety net. T_T I'm also a little concerned my expectations are a bit too high for this one lol

Libby

New Adult by Timothy Janovsky: The sliding doors/alternate timelines concept is very different from what I've read from this author, so I'm a little concerned in that regard. I also don't personally like stand-up comedy all that much, and I hope there's not too much of that on-page. I also found the set-up a little rough. I'll probably go ahead and read this to get it off my tbr, and it'll probably be a good time. im not sure it's strong enough to bump the slump though.

Afterlove by Tanya Byrne: Genuinely don't know what to expect from this one. I've only heard of it bc i think Fairyloot? sent it as a bonus book in a box and some booktubers unboxed it. I've not seen anyone read it or heard anything of it since. There's something about death and undeath and teen girls in love. I don't have super high hopes bc it's YA but the opening was strong and i'm interested to see where the plot goes, though i'm not invested in the romance much at all at this point.

[fenimores-book-nook]

Day 17 <3

January 2nd - 2024, Tuesday 10:49 am At work!

HAPPY 2024!!! That's crazy! I haven't accidentally put 2023 instead of 2024 yet, that almost seems crazier. (I'm sure that'll happen soon enough) Enjoy my little illustration from New Years Day at 1 or 2 am. ;)

I am currently at work, as you would've read at the top of the post. I. Am. Exhausted. On top of getting back into the work-at-8-am routine, I'm fighting a cold, ahg. Don't worry, it isn't a horrible one and yes, I'm taking care of it. It's been a few days full of hot teas and warm baths/showers, ginger ale, ibuprofen, and water! And of course rest and cozy clothing. Even though I hate being in the midst of a cold, I am glad I didn't have to deal with it while I was visiting family in Canada! So, there's always a bright side, right? ;)

Today I don't have much of a plan, other than after work I would like to crash on the couch and take a much needed nap. After last week being as busy as it was, I'm ready for a chill week. This one isn't going to be as chill as I'd like it to be, but it'll still be *chill.* ;) Tomorrow I'm going to be hanging out with a friend, but our hangouts are usually fun and low-key. Thursday I have therapy, Friday I just have work, and Saturday is my work holiday party in the evening. And I work 8-1 all those days, minus Saturday. So, I'll for sure have some nice downtime. :)

A lil' collage containing the events of my New Years celebration! :)

I started the night out with my friends, at one of their houses for a party. It was fun at the start, we played a game called "Radical Queer Witches," which is basically a gay, non-offensive version of "Cards Against Humanity." I 100% recommend. ;) And don't get me wrong, it was a good time to just hang out with my friends, but as the night went on, I started feeling uneasy and not very well. (for a number of things that aren't necessary I get into) So, around 10 pm I headed home, knowing that that was the best decision for myself in the moment. And I am really proud of myself for making that decision. If it was during the summer of last year, I probably would've forced myself to stick it out. So, I've come a ways and I should be proud about that! Being proud of yourself can be a hard thing to feel but it's important. <3

So, after I got home, I felt a lot better and decided to make up my own little New Years celebration area. I made a cozy set up on the couch with our dog, Charlie, some cuddle buddies, and books and notebooks! I also had gotten some hot tea and later, some Ginger Ale and poured it into a champagne glass to feel all fun and fancy. :) Then, I clicked on some Christmas lofi with a cute animation on the tv and journaled for a while! Around 11:45 I found a countdown and put that on, then with about 3 minutes before 2024, I facetimed my friends to welcome the new year with them that way. :) Even though the night had some ah-feeling parts, it was a good night in the end!

The Owl House new year-vibe art from Pinterest. :3

Flash forward in the day ~ 6:31 pm In a cozy blanket with a New Years jazz animation YouTube video playing in the background. ;)

The rest of my time at work went well and fast! I worked on the novel I'm writing for most of my shift. Whenever I write at work the time seems to go by really quickly! ;) It especially helps on days when business is slow, the only problem is that I gotta be in the mood to write. (or just sit myself down and force my hands to the keyboard, but we're trying not to force things ;) ) I did end up taking that much needed nap I mentioned. I spent most of my afternoon resting and watching Gravity Falls, another amazing show I'm obsessed with. ;)

~ Self care writing ~

I did some novel writing today after a while of not doing it! I got a lot written and a lot of good stuff written! I was able to come home and rest instead of forcing myself to do things I didn't necessarily want to in the moment. I gave myself time for rest. <3

I remembered something that I read/wrote about in my devotion last night. How God's love for me is not determined on how much I get done. He loves me regardless, I don't need to make myself always be doing something. <3

Not necessarily learned, but reminded of: that there's always more to the surface level of stories. It depends on the reader to look deeper or not.

Pretty good overall, I think. I spent a good amount of time today doing something I love: writing. And I thought more about my faith in a way that makes me feel more confident about it too. I feel proud of myself. :)

Lacking motivation would probably be the best answer. But not in all areas. I had the motivation to do novel writing and to do some illustrations. It isn't always like that, but sometimes the lacking motivation tells you something. Maybe there's something that needs a change-up.

I forgive myself for giving myself unrealistic expectations to reach. It's always a journey to focus on yourself and the realizing of hard truths is a part of it.

Mabel + Waddle hugs from me to you. :)

Until next time,

Thalia <3

[bloody-trio]

A light knock is heard at Allan’s door! Left behind is a small tin and a note. Inside the tin sit 4 freshly made apple tarts, each decorated to look as though the apples made up small edible roses.

As for the note, it simply read the following:

“My dearest Sonnet,

I hope you are doing well! A lot has happened sense the last time we’ve chatted hasn’t it? I wish the Baron wouldn’t schedule so many matches so I could visit more (hence me dropping this basket off in such a rush). Anyhow, I’ve heard word of a Wedding themed Ball coming up and was wondering if you’d like to accompany me there! I feel as though it could be a lovely date between the two of us.

Kindest Regards,

LeRoy.”

((@manor-tea-time Giving the goofy guys a break from the angst as a treat dbdbdbbd ALSO RARARA WEDDING BALL EVENT

(AOAIWDJPAWEAWIOEF AL DEVOURS THIS EATS IT UP)

The poet stirred awake at the knock on his door, who could be up so early in the morning? He thinks as he looks up at his clock through half-lided eyes, standing up and making his way to the door still in his pijamas and bed hairm hoping it was just Gabriel so noone had the displeasure to see him like this. That idea dissipated as he looked at the tin and picked it up alongside the note, a dumb smile making itself present on his face as a light blush rushed to his face as he saw who signed it off. Looking around for any signs of his beloved and feeling just a tad bit dissapointed when he wasn't around.

He took the mysterious tin and note inside and laid on his bed to read it, unconciously kicking his feet the more he read through it, blushing as he re-read it again, opening the tin to reveal the apple tarts, practically getting heart eyes before popping one into his mouth and swooning. He quickly put himself together, presentable enough to go outside and quickly got to writing before putting it in and envelope along side with one of the many flowers he had around his room, kind of embarrased about it not being a fresh one but deciding it was better than nothing as he embarked himself to his beloved's room, not taking him long before getting there, quickly taping the envelope into his door along with a white rose, giving it a quick kiss before leaving, the note read:

"Leroy my beloved,

Hello, love, it has been a while! I also hope you've been doing well, i've been lucky that i've got a strike of weeks without matches and I hope that luck extends to you soon.

As for the invite for the ball, i'm very grateful you considered me to acompany you to such an event and i'd be glad to be your partner to be there! Oh, i'm sure it'll be a wonderful night! I'm sure you'll look wonderful, as always my dear.

p.s! Thanks for the apple tarts! They're delicious, how did you know they were my favourite?

Lot's of love, Allan Crowell."

[sturkillerbase]

Promises Under the Moon

Dieter Bravo x GN!Reader

Summary: you've struggled with depression for a very long time. While others could think your acting career was just beginning, you have no high hopes for it. In a dark moment, Dieter comes to aid.

Genre: Angst

Song: Boyish, by Japanese Breakfast

Warnings: Depression, suicidal thoughts, self-degrading thoughts, feelings of hopelessness and loneliness. Mention to Dieter's alcoholism. DO NOT read if these are triggers to you. Let me know if I missed anything.

Words: 1.7K

A/N: I was going to leave this as a one shot but I mentally and physically am unable to not continue stories and/or give them a proper ending so yeah, there'll be a part two. But I'm feeling very down lately so keep calm. It'll come, I promise. On the other hand, I would like to express my eternal gratitude for @scorpio-marionette for proofreading this. She's done so much I should probably credit this as a cowritten work. It would be much fairer. THANK YOU, NAOMI! YOU ARE INCREDIBLE!!!!

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You sit by a table on the hotel terrace, alone in the dark. The only sources of light are what leak in from the corridor through the still open door and the stars above.

It’s not the first time you do this. More often than not, when the day is done and most are heading to bed for a well-deserved night’s rest, you make your way here. Always sitting at the same table, facing in the same direction.

Every now and then you bring a notepad to write on, a book to read, or something to drink. You mostly listen to music though, letting it flow from your phone's speaker, but not too loud that someone could come in and complain about it.

Today is one of those days. You aren't writing about your uncontrolled feelings, trying to take your mind away with a story, or distracting yourself by ingesting something that could fill your taste buds. Today, only the tunes coming from your phone are with you, playing as you drown in thoughts of your futile existence once again. Feeling down, incapable and worthless isn't new for you. You feel like it every day, and when you wonder about your future, nothing comes to mind - you have no hopes in it.

Things only got worse when you met your most important coworker: Dieter Bravo.

You knew who he was, of course. Everyone does, and you’ve always had a small celebrity crush on him.

When you found out you'd been cast in a high budget movie, even if it was a smaller role, you couldn't believe it. When you were told you'd be acting side by side with THE Dieter Bravo, you swore you were being lied to.

Although your role was smaller and you didn’t have an absurd amount of screen time, you and Dieter got along well and soon became friends. Your character mainly showed up when his character needed yours. So basically, all of the scenes you were in, he was too.

You consider this to be good enough for you. You've gotten the big chance of your life. Maybe if you’re to end it all, it’ll have been worth it, because you’ve had the wonderful chance to work with him.

It didn't help at all when you started developing real feelings for him. Despite his chaotic aura and the absolute mess he is behind the camera, he’s still an incredible person, caring and sweet. Just misunderstood.

You hang out as you wait for the shooting to begin. You sit together as the film crew fills the main hall to talk on days off. More often than not, when going out with your workmates, you’re the one dragging a very drunk Dieter back to his hotel room. He probably doesn’t even remember, too drunk to process what’s happened. You bring him pills and a bottle of water, or coffee, on the next day on set. You set it on the table of his dressing room, and he takes it as he sits down with a grunt, rubbing his hands on his tired face. He knows it’s you, and he appreciates it very dearly.

You have never been alone with him. You always go out in groups, but you often stay close together and have little chats of your own. Nearby or not, your eyes always find him, and your ears always hear him.

You’ve fallen in love.

But he is absolutely out of your league.

For as nice as he is, he would probably laugh at the thought of an actor like him dating an actor like you. He's been in several blockbuster movies, important movies, he's even received an Oscar for his amazing work. You, on the other hand, have only been in minor films and this is your first job on a big project, as a minor character. The story does need your character to develop the plot, but in the future, no one will be able to recall them.  They will only remember Dieter and the other stars of the film.

You lay back on your chair, arm resting on the table, back to the door. Looking ahead but not at anything in particular.

As a new song begins to play, you start lightly tapping your finger on the table in the same rhythm of the beat.

As the song goes on, you start half singing, half reciting the lyrics along with it.

"I can't get you off my mind. I can't get you off in general." you recite along with the singer, looking down in sadness "I want you and you want something more beautiful."

Unbeknownst to you, you’re being watched by someone at the door. They keep still, watching and listening to you from their spot.

"And all this confrontation, this suffering" you continue "what do you want from me? If you don't like how I look, then leave"

The person finally speaks up, revealing themselves. As they speak, you hear their feet dragging on the floor as they make their way towards you.

"Damn, sunflower! Who hurt you?"

You recognize Dieter's voice immediately. The first thought that comes to your mind is to admit that he is the current source of your suffering, but you don’t.

"The world hurt me, Dieter" you say and give him a side grin as he sits down on the opposite side of the table. It isn't a lie.

He chuckles, getting himself comfortable and resting his arm on the table, dressed in his pajamas "Doesn't it hurt us all?" He says.

It is your turn to chuckle, looking into the distance again. "Guess you're right..."

"Still" he continues "sitting alone in the dark every night listening to sad songs isn't a good coping mechanism."

Every night?

You snap your neck to look at him, eyes wide in surprise.

"Dieter, have you been spying on me?" You ask.

His eyes widen and he gets nervous. "No! Uh, no no. I haven't, I swear!" He stumbles over his words "It's just-- I-I come here often to smoke. I'd do it in my room but the guys in the room by mine complained to the front desk and I don't really want to deal with them again, so I come here instead. Um, whenever I come, you're always here. Sometimes writing, sometimes not. I don't want to disturb you, so I always leave and come back later. You- you look good under the moonlight, though-- But I wasn’t trying to be a creep, I swear!"

You're surprised, but you smile at his panicked confession.

"... I'm sorry" he whispers, rubbing his hands over each other.

"It's okay. I know you're not a creep." You smile and you see his shoulders relax, he gives you a shy smile too. "But what made you come talk to me tonight?" His smile fades. He seems... sad. Like he's about to say something he doesn't want to. "You seemed sadder than normal..." he tells you.

Your eyes widen in surprise again, and your cheeks flush. You look away from him, staring at your feet. "Oh..." is all you can say.

A few silent seconds pass before he speaks again. "You- you don't have to do this alone. You know that, right?"

"... I feel alone" you admit, still not meeting his eyes.

"But you're not." he reaches across the table and places his hand over yours. It feels warm against your colder one. "You're not."

You look at his hand over yours and then to him. And he gives you a reassuring smile.

"Promise me that whenever you feel sad, you'll come to me instead of coming here to sit on your own." He says.

You hesitate, unsure. You don't know if you can promise that. Also... why is he being nice? You like it, of course. It’s so sweet of him. You’ve always known there is a wonderful, sweet man under his tousled demeanor, but you don’t want to get more hurt than you already are.

Sensing your hesitation and fears, he gives your hand a gentle squeeze, still looking warmly at you.

"You don't have to tell me anything if you don't want to. We don't have to do anything in particular either. I'll stay with you until you feel better, and hold your hand if you want me to." He says, trying to encourage you and calm you down. He wants you to know that when he said you are not alone, he meant it.

"I..." you try, but hesitate again. Closing your eyes and taking a deep breath, you try again. "I promise." You look at him and he gives you a wide, warm grin. Happy to see you accepting what little help he can offer. He warms you, and you know you can trust him. You do your best to smile at him too. "But... you have to promise me something too," you say.

"Yes, sunflower?" He asks, waiting for your answer.

Sunflower

You weren't sure if you'd heard him correctly before, but there it is again. He did call you sunflower. That makes you all silly inside, but you push that aside for now.

"Promise me you'll quit drinking." You try to be as firm as you can, looking him in the eyes. You worry so much about him. The last thing you want to see is him falling into a pit he will not be able to get out of.

He's surprised, shaken. Just like you, he is not sure he can promise that.

"Drinking is not a good coping mechanism." You repeat his words, adapting them to him.

He knows you're right. He knows he should stop. There are so many things he does to himself that he should stop doing.

You see the turmoil behind his eyes, and you're absolutely aware of how hard this is for him.

"Let's make a deal," you try. "I'll come to you when I feel down, and you'll come to me whenever you feel like drinking."

"That'll be all the time, sunflower." He tries to joke. You give him a side smile.

"I don't mind." You put your free hand over his. "You can do it, Dieter. One step at a time."

After a while of fighting the thoughts in his head, he finally speaks up.

"I promise" he says, voice low and shy, looking at you with big, hopeful eyes. It's surprising how a big man like him can seem so small and defenseless.

You give his hand a reassuring squeeze and smile at him. He smiles at you too. Finally, you have something that gives you reason to keep going.