#it's even funnier because the fic that I want to read right now would be all about the politics and shit

[jankwritten]

Actually, I don't think I'll be altering it, necessarily. I think that what I'm going to do is exactly what the show did - some Fuckshit that allows People to Come Back. Because Altea randomly reappears, and I think that Allura's energy should be allowed to come back too. The episode is titled The End Is the Beginning. I call bullshit that the lions just DISAPPEAR. I call bullshit that there is no more need for a defender of the universe. ALL realities were reestablished, and we had SOLID PROOF that all it took was one person, one event, for everything that happened to happen again. There would still be war. There would still be need for something like Voltron, even with the Atlas and the next generation of fighters. Even if it's not the current paladins - Voltron shouldn't just disappear. That ending is dumb, sorry.

That being said - holy shit. I genuinely loved that whole experience and I feel kind of bad for the people who let expectations and silly plot points blot out the whole show for them. Was it dumb at times? Yeah. Do I agree with the way that things went and how it ended? No! But that doesn't mean the show itself sucks or anything like that. This is the whole reason fandom spaces exist, or, part of the reason: so people can love the source material, and change what they don't, if need be. Like, that's the whole reason fanfiction exists IMO.

So, uh, anyway. If anybody has a pirated copy of VLD just lying around and uh....wants to just kick that my way in case it ever gets demolished off the internet.......i would love you forever and ever LMAO.

Wow. Just wow.

[suddencolds]

The Worst Timing | [3/?]

part 3 (6k words)!! you can read [part 1] here! (it gets worse before it gets better). this chapter is more character-centric (sorry again 🙇‍♀️). i wanted to post this before work eats me alive this week T.T

this is an OC fic - here is a list of everything I've written w these two!

Summary: Yves invites Vincent to a wedding, in France, where the rest of his family will be in attendance. It's a very important wedding, so he's definitely not going to let anything—much less the flu—ruin it. (ft. fake dating, an international trip, downplaying illness, sharing a hotel room)

—

It’s fine, until it isn’t.

—

Yves gets home, showers first (only after Vincent insists that he shower first), heads out into the living room, and shuts off the lights. The lights in the bedroom are still on, bleeding in from the doorframe. 

His head hurts. Every part of him feels cold. He burrows deep into the covers on the pullout bed, rearranges himself until he finds a sufficiently comfortable position, and shuts his eyes. 

Tomorrow, he’ll be away for most of the afternoon—with the wedding rehearsal, and then the rehearsal dinner with the rest of his family—and Vincent will grab dinner and drinks with some of Genevieve’s friends in the meantime. Yves will probably be home late. They won’t see each other for the entire day—at least, until he gets back from dinner some time in the late evening. 

Everything for the wedding is ready. His suit jacket is ironed, his shoes polished; his speech has been written for weeks and rehearsed first alone, and then in front of Leon and Victoire, who’d told him how to make it funnier (Leon) and more concise (Victoire). Two days from today, Aimee and Genevieve will be married.

All he has to do, now, is just see it through.

—

Yves wakes up coughing.

He feels distinctly wrong. His head is throbbing. His limbs feel strangely leaden, like they’re weighing him down, like it’d be a considerable inconvenience to move them—he isn’t sure if he’d be able to sit up properly.

He presses a hand to his forehead, in an attempt to gauge whether he’s running a fever. It’s no use—his hand is warm and clammy. He can’t tell.

Fuck. This is not good. 

One wrong breath leaves him coughing, harshly enough that the coughs seem to reverberate through his frame. His throat burns. He reaches blindly through the dark in an attempt to find one of the waters he’d bought yesterday night, at the convenience store. Had he left a bottle on the nightstand? Or had he gotten rid of the one he’d drunk from last night? His breath hitches, so sharply that he has practically no hope of holding back.

“Hhehh’YISHh-CHHiew! hhHEHH’iIDTSSHh-iiEW!”

The sneezes tear through him with little warning, leaving him flushed and shivering. It’s not warm enough in the living room. He doesn’t know if it’s the air conditioning in the room, or the relative thinness of the blanket he’s under, or if perhaps the window is open just a crack, or if perhaps he just hasn’t been moving enough to get warm. He’s not sure he could pinpoint the cause if he tried.

The only thing that seems evident to him, now, is that he feels immediately, uncomfortably cold. He could get out of bed and look for something to wear—he hadn’t packed any thick jackets, because Provence in March isn’t especially cold, but even one of the dress jackets would be better than nothing, so long as it’s one of the ones which can withstand getting a little wrinkled.

But when he sits up—or, rather, when he attempts to sit up—he feels the world tilt, uncomfortably. He braces himself on the frame of the couch, propping himself up with one arm up on the armrest. 

He definitely has a fever, even if there’s no way for him to verify that right now. Otherwise, it would be strange for him to feel so cold. Even now, only half-vertical, he finds himself shivering so hard he can barely move the blanket back up to sit comfortably around his shoulders.

One wrong breath sends a painful twinge down his throat, and he finds himself coughing, gripping the armrest tightly to keep himself upright. He should get out of bed. He should find water, put on a jacket, make an attempt to get back to sleep.

For now, all he can do is muffle the coughs as best he can into a cupped hand. His chest aches with every cough. Every breath he takes in feels like it only manages to irritate his lungs further.

Through the haze of his exhaustion, he thinks he hears footsteps. The knowledge that he’s keeping Vincent up is the last thing he needs, right now. 

Through the crack under the doorframe, he can see the line of light from the hallway, which is lit even at night. Maybe if he’s going to be up anyways, he should spend the night out in the hallway—at the very least, he’ll be a little quieter out there.

Someone presses a bottle of water into his hands.

“Drink,” Vincent says. “It’s uncapped.”

Yves brings the water to his lips and takes a short, tentative sip, and then another. His throat is sorer than it had been yesterday—the water burns against the back of his throat as he swallows.

Vincent steps past him, past the edge of the couch, to do—something. Yves doesn’t know what. He hears a click, and the lamp on the cabinet by the sofa flickers on, floods the living room with dim yellow light. Vincent regards him carefully, his expression unreadable.

“Sorry,” Yves says. The next breath he takes in exacerbates the tickle at the back of his throat, and he twists away, muffling cough after cough into a tightly cupped hand. “I didn’t mbean to wake you.”

Vincent’s eyebrows furrow. He looks… upset, somehow, though the light is dim enough that his expression is hard to make out. Yves tries to think of what else he should say, but his head feels heavy.

He tries to re-cap the bottle of water, though his hands are shaky enough to make it a little difficult. Vincent takes the bottle from him and screws the cap tight in one fluid motion. Yves tries and fails to think of something to joke about.

Vincent presses a hand to his forehead. His hand is comfortingly warm, and a little calloused. It’s strange, how good it feels to be touched—he knows and knows well that it means nothing, but the gentle press of Vincent’s fingers to his skin—when he’s spent the past few days trying to keep his distance from everyone—is strangely comforting. Yves leans into the contact, despite all logic.

Vincent pulls away, too soon. “You’re—”

“Warm?” Yves finishes for him.

“Feverish,” Vincent clarifies, with a frown. “Did you already know that?”

“I had a hunch,” Yves answers, honestly.

Vincent just stares at him, for a moment, frustration evident in the set of his jaw. Yves repositions the blankets over his shoulders, a little self-conscious. “It’s fide. I’ll take something for it,” Yves says. “You should go back to sleep.”

“We slept early,” Vincent says. “I’m not tired.”

“What time is it?”

Vincent glances at his watch. “5:34.”

“That’s still early enough that you should be asleep.” Yves sighs, scrubbing a hand over his face. His head hurts, and there’s a prickle in his nose again. “Sorry. I can be quieter.”

His breath hitches. In a frantic attempt to keep his promise, he lifts the blanket to his face and stifles—or, rather, attempts to stifle—the sneeze into the fabric.

“hh—! hhEHH’NGKTSHCH-iiew!”

It’s still not very quiet, despite his best efforts, and the attempt to stifle leaves him coughing a little. It’s a good thing they’re not sharing a bed, he thinks. He hasn’t exactly been careful about keeping this illness to himself.

“Bless you,” Vincent says, rising to his feet. He ducks into the bedroom, only to be back a moment later with a box of tissues, which he tucks into the crook between the pullout bed and the sofa armrests, conveniently in reach. “Was it like this last night?”

“What?”

“Were you unable to sleep last night?”

It’s not an accusation, but Yves freezes at the question, nonetheless. For a moment, he worries—that Vincent knows precisely how little sleep he’s gotten since they landed in France. That Vincent was awake last night—or worse, that Yves was the one who kept him up—which is why he’s asking this question now.

But if he knew, wouldn’t he have said something about it yesterday? 

“I slept fine,” Yves says. 

There’s a cold breeze coming in from somewhere—from the hallway, or from one of the air conditioning vents, he can’t say. Yves tries his best to suppress a shiver. He can tell, by the change to Vincent’s expression—the way Vincent’s eyes linger on him a little too long—that he doesn’t do it well enough.

“You should really have taken the bed,” Vincent says, with a sigh. “It’s warmer.”

“It’s warm here too,” Yves says. There probably wouldn’t even be a problem if he weren’t feverish—it’s just the relative temperature difference that’s making him shiver. “Are you goidg to stop interrogating me ndow?”

“If you stop giving me reasons to be worried,” Vincent says plainly, “Then I will.”

Yves sighs. He’s cold, and exhausted, and he wants this argument to be over. He doesn’t want to have to justify all of this to Vincent, who should be enjoying this vacation instead of worrying about Yves and whatever cold-slash-flu he’s managed to pick up this time. “This is not the first time I’ve been under the weather,” he says. “I—” he veers away to face the opposite direction from Vincent, pulls the blanket up to cover his face. “hHeh-!-hHEHh‘nGKTTSHH-iiIEw!”

“Bless you.”

“—I kdow what I’m doing, snf. I don't even feel that—hh… hHheh'iiDDZZCHH-iIIEW!” The sneeze comes on too quickly for him to stifle. “—that udwell,” he finishes, sniffling, though that’s not entirely truthful. He lifts an elbow to muffle a few coughs into it, blinking through the tears that are surfacing, irritatingly, in his vision.

“So you’ve said,” Vincent says.

“Yes,” Yves says. “You can trust me on this.”

Vincent looks at him for a moment. For a moment, Yves waits for him to refute this, waits for him to point out just how unprepared he is, just how little of a plan he has aside from sticking this out until he has the chance to crash and burn.

“What do you need?” he says, instead.

Yves blinks at him. It’s not the question he expects Vincent to ask.

“Nothidg,” he says, honestly. “Seriously. It’s just a cold. I’ll take somethidg for it when I wake up.”

“Cold medicine?” To Yves’s nod, Vincent says, “I can get it for you, if you want.”

“No need. I’ll probably just — hhEhh-! HhEHh’IITShh-iiEW! Ugh… I’ll pick somethidg up from the codvenience store on the way to breakfast.”

Vincent turns aside to muffle a yawn into a cupped hand. Yves is unpleasantly reminded that he’s probably the sole reason why Vincent is awake right now.

“You should sleep, seriously,” Yves says, insistent. “Maybe you’ll be able to squeeze in a few more hours of sleep before sunrise. I’ll be okay.”

Vincent blinks at him. “Are you sure?”

“I’m sure.”

“Okay,” Vincent says, softly. 

Then he stands, sets the bottle of water on the cabinet by the sofa, switches off the lamp, and heads back into the bedroom. Yves listens as his footsteps recede. His sinuses are starting to feel like they’re slightly waterlogged, and the pressure from behind his eyelids is back, throbbing.

The tickle in his nose heightens, momentarily, and he finds himself muffling another set of sneezes into the bedsheets. He desperately hopes it’s quiet enough to not be disruptive. It’s hard to be fully quiet when whatever he has leaves him sneezing so forcefully, but he’s determined to try. 

The coughing fit that follows leaves his throat feeling like it’s been nearly scraped raw. He clears his throat quietly, though that hurts, too. He takes another small sip of the water, though it goes down his throat with such difficulty he finds himself coughing again.

Two more days. He just has to make it through. He’ll grab a pack of cold and flu medication from the convenience store downstairs—the kind that’s supposed to smother all the symptoms—and then he’ll be good as new, he’s sure.

Yves shuts his eyes, turns to the side, and tries his best to get comfortable. He’ll be less disruptive if he’s asleep. It’s just getting there that’s the problem. He’s exhausted—that fact only seems to become more evident the longer he stays awake—but every time he finds himself drifting off, he’s jolted awake by another untimely sneeze which wrenches him back into consciousness.

In college, whenever he was up unreasonably late for some reason, Erika used to tell him to Stop worrying, Yves, I can hear you overthinking from the other side of the room. Ask anyone else and they’d say that Yves has his life reasonably put together—being the eldest of three does that to you. He’d spent his formative years growing up trying to be the sort of person Leon and Victoire could lean on—the kind of person impervious to the sorts of stressful situations he’d gotten regularly thrown into—and for the most part, it’d worked.

He’d learned, early on, that it is not really that difficult to keep things from people. He likes to think of himself as reliable, even if that means that whenever something does come up—something that feels frustrating and insurmountable—it doesn’t really hurt any less when he goes through it privately.

Erika had always been good at seeing through his bullshit. It was one of the things he liked about her—that he could lean on her if he needed to, without worrying that it’d take its toll on her. That she’d take a look at his problems, which always felt so all-consuming in the moment, and make them seem simple and solvable and almost trivial.

It’s hard not to miss her, now, when he’s alone in the dark, devoid of any and all distractions. Or maybe it wasn’t her. Maybe it was just having someone he didn’t have to hide from.

Yves wonders, faintly, what Vincent would’ve said if he were more honest with him. He and Vincent aren’t actually dating, but he thinks maybe Vincent would understand. He thinks that they’ve been getting along well, as of late—he might even consider them friends.

But then again, hasn’t Vincent agreed to do all of this—lying to Yves’s friends and family, falsifying their relationship, letting Yves drag him from one celebration to the next—because it’s easy? Because he is willing to tolerate going to a party, or a housewarming, or a wedding, where there are no strings attached, when after the night is over he can drop the act cleanly?

It’s a lie that they’re telling, but it’s a self contained one. The moment they step foot out of whatever event they’re attending, there’s nothing left to pretend. Yves can go back to living his own life, and Vincent can go back to living his. Would Vincent really have agreed to do any of this if that weren’t the case? 

It’s going to be fine, Erika would have said. Just breathe. She’s not around to tell him this, now, but he still tries.

The medicine will be enough to get him through today, and the day after. It has to be.

—

When Yves falls asleep, it’s the kind of restless sleep that sits somewhere in between unconsciousness and wakefulness. He dreams in fragments of scenes—him at Aimee and Genevieve’s wedding, the details hazy and illogical and unusually bright, the weddings he’d been to in the past all superimposed into one.

When he wakes up to the sound of his alarm, it’s to a pounding headache and what he’s certain must be a fever. He can’t seem to stop shivering. It’s already bright out—the curtains in the bedroom are pulled shut, but light streams in from the sliver of space between them.

He feels too cold and somehow entirely devoid of energy, though he doesn’t remember doing anything particularly tiring. Sitting up makes the throbbing pain in his head sharpen, so painfully that he has to grip the side of the couch to steady himself, blinking against the dizziness. If Aimee saw him right now, he thinks, she’d send him straight home—he’s in no state to attend a wedding, and he’s not sure if he’s in any state to pretend that’s not the case.

He breath hitches. He raises an arm to shield his face, habitually, even though there’s no one here to witness—

“hhEhh-’iZZSSHH’Iew!” The singular sneeze is, unfortunately, far from relieving. The tickle in his nose is irritatingly persistent, even when he reaches up to rub his nose, which is starting to run. “Hh-! hhEH-!! HEHh-’IDDZSCHh-yYew! hHEHH’iDDSCHh-iEWW!hhEhH-! H‘IIDzZCH-YIIIEEew! Ugh…” The sneezes scrape unpleasant against his already-sore throat, leaving him hunched over as he muffles cough after cough into his arm.

There’s a small packet of cold medicine on his bedside, along with an uncapped bottle of water, and Vincent is nowhere to be found. The medication is a relief. It’s strangely thoughtful—a part of him is a little worried that Vincent’s only gotten this for him out of a sense of obligation—but he’s grateful for it, nonetheless. 

It’s exactly what he needs. Surely if he takes something for this, his symptoms will be, at the very least, tolerable enough for him to function as usual.

He picks up the packet, squints down at the instructions. The text is inconveniently small, and he’s always been better at speaking French than he is at reading it, but he gets it eventually. It’s supposed to last six hours. If he times this right, he can take a dose that will last him until the end of the rehearsal dinner tonight, and then—if he’s not feeling better by tomorrow—take another before the wedding starts. 

It will be fine. He uncaps the bottle by the cabinet, downs two pills, squeezes his eyes shut, and sits there for a minute, forces himself to breathe, waits for the uncomfortable pressure in his temples to subside.

Then he shoots off a quick text—

Y: thanks for the cold meds :)

Y: sorry i essentially left you with some strangers (again)

Y: this seems to be a theme for me huh

Vincent texts him back just a few minutes later:

V: No problem. I hope you feel better soon

V: Leon and Victoire invited me out for lunch

Yves blinks. That’s a little surprising. But come to think about it, Vincent’s plans with Genevieve’s friends aren’t until dinner time, so it makes sense that he’s out doing something else.

His second thought is: he is definitely in for an earful from both Leon and Victoire.

Y: jealous! have fun! 

His phone buzzes not long later with Vincent’s response.

V: I considered waking you, but I figured you could use the sleep

V: Do you want me to bring anything back?

Sure enough, when he checks his unread texts, Leon has texted him, are u alive????? And then, a few minutes later, ur sick? dude worst fucking timing ever 😦, to which Yves types back, thanks for your glowing reassurance

Victoire has sent him, vincent told me you’re sick :((( and, feel better soon (preferably before 3pm tomorrow!!), to which Yves says, thanks, fwding this to my body. hope it gets the message ✌️

Then he sends back to Vincent:

Y: i’m good, but thanks for asking! enjoy lunch 

Vincent doesn’t say anything, to that, which means that he’s probably busy. Yves makes a note to thank him in person later. And again, much later—when all of this is over.

He just has to get the next day and a half to go according to plan.

—

The wedding rehearsal is mercifully uneventful. They walk twice through the processional, and then twice through the recessional. Yves picks a seat near one of the back rows, shivers through thirty minutes of run throughs, and tries to cough as discreetly as he can. He stifles every sneeze into a vague approximation of silence—he’s never been good at stifling—and does his best to ignore the mounting congestion in his sinuses, the persistent ache behind his temples.

It's easy enough to ignore all of those things in his excitement. He’s happy to be back—here, in France, surrounded by his whole extended family A part of this still feels unreal to him. He’s really here, in a place that feels familiar and simultaneously so novel, to watch someone who’s influenced him so fundamentally get married. 

They’re all dressed for the spring weather. For the wedding rehearsal, Yves picked out a gray blazer over a dress shirt, chinos, and dress shoes. It’s not quite as formal as what he’s planning to wear tomorrow—the shoes are the only item he’s planning to rewear—but he finds himself distinctly grateful for the blazer jacket when the wind threads through the trees, knocking his tie slightly out of alignment.

It’s not unusually cold out—this would probably be considered temperate weather here, in March—but the wind is cold enough to offset the otherwise agreeable temperature.

The cold medicine helps, too—it keeps him feeling well enough to stay upright, which is already an accomplishment. He’s congested—his sinuses hurt a little, like everything’s a little waterlogged—but at least he isn’t sneezing as much as he was last night. His head still feels heavy, but the pain is a little duller, a little more muted; he’s tired, but he thinks right now he could stay awake on pure adrenaline alone.

“Dude, you sound awful,” Leon says, after the rehearsal ends.

“Thadks,” Yves says, muffling a fit of coughs into his elbow. “You always kdow just how to flatter me.”

Leon looks him over with a frown. “Are you sure you’re good for tomorrow?”

Yves doesn’t know. “Let’s hope so,” he says. “I don’t have any contingedcy plans for if I’m not.”

“I’m sure Aimee would understand if you told her.”

“I’m sure she would.” Yves looks over to where Aimee’s standing—she’s in the middle of a conversation with Yves’s parents and some of the adults on Genevieve’s side of the family. He’s too far to make out what she’s talking about, but she looks happy—she’s gesturing animatedly, her eyes bright. Every so often, he sees her flash a smile at Genevieve, as if to make sure Genevieve is following along.

Leon seems to understand that Yves has no intention of telling either of them, because he sighs. Yves changes the subject before he can say anything. “How was ludch with Vincent?”

“I like him,” Leon says, brightening at the question. “He’s surprisingly pretty funny. I hope you guys stay together.”

“Just because he’s funny?”

“That certainly doesn’t hurt,” Leon says, grinning. “But you work with him, right? If he’s a nice person while he’s looking at like, tax forms, or whatever, he’s probably a great person when he’s doing anything else.”

“Yves! Leon!” someone waves them over. When Yves turns, he sees it’s Roy, one of his younger cousins from his dad’s side of the family. “Pictures!”

“Coming,” Leon shouts back. 

Yves has no idea why there are pictures happening today when the wedding is tomorrow, but he fixes his tie hastily and heads over to join them both.

—

When dinner rolls around, Yves finds he has no appetite, but he eats what he can and spends the rest of the time making conversation with some of his aunts and uncles. He’s always found this kind of small talk to be more enjoyable than it is tedious. They ask about his job, about his workload, about life in the states, about his parents, about Vincent—all things that he knows intimately, and has no problem speaking on. He thinks that speaking in French makes him a little more deliberate with his answers, partially because he has to spend some time formulating the sentences when they get more complicated, and he likes that, too. It has all the camaraderie of a family gathering—warm and crowded, welcoming, a little chaotic.

He finds Genevieve after dinner, sitting out on the steps.

“Hey,” he says, in French. She looks up, and he motions to the steps beside her. “Do you want some time alone before you get swamped with codgratulations tomorrow, or can I crash your alone time early?”

She smiles up at him. “You can sit here,” she says.

He takes a seat on the steps—a few feet away from her, because he doesn’t want to risk passing whatever he has onto her. He doesn’t know Genevieve very well. He knows her best through Aimee—through the stories Aimee has told about her, through the way Aimee’s entire disposition seems to change around her—but he’s exchanged very few words with her outside of that, all over the summer during their yearly family reunions in France. His extended family is large enough and the family reunions hectic enough that he can probably count the number of conversations he’s had with her in person on one hand.

“So,” he says. “How are you feelidg before the big day?”

“Do you want the good answer, or the honest answer?”

“The honest one,” Yves says. “hit me with it.”

For a moment, Genevieve doesn’t say anything. Yves zips his jacket up a little higher, just to have something to do. Genevieve pulls her legs in towards her chest.

“I’m terrified,” she says.

“You think somethidg might go wrong?” Yves asks, surprised. “You guys have planned this all out so thoroughly.”

“It’s not that,” she says. “It’s more like—this is probably going to be one of the most important things I’ve ever done,” she says. “You know, when something is really important to you, so it’s just that much more crucial that you don’t mess it up?”

“You’re the bride,” Yves says, clearing his throat. “I don’t think you can mess up. Unless you like, hheh-! hHheh… HEH’IIDZschH-YIEEW! snf-! Unless you get cold feet and say no when you’re supposed to be saying your vows. I wod’t forgive you if you do that, by the way.”

She laughs. “God, no. I’d never do that. It’s just—there’s all this perceived… I don’t know. Like, fragility around the moment. Like you’re just waiting for the moment to crystallize, and once it sets, it will be like that forever, so you have to make sure that it crystallizes right.”

“I’m guessing you’re ndot a fan of, like, pottery,” Yves says. He tries thinking about what other kinds of art carry the same lack of tolerance for backwards revision. “Or sculpting.”

“I haven’t tried either of those things,” she says. “Though I would probably be bad at them.”

Yves looks off into the distance, towards the countryside, the rows of verdant green hills which unfurl before them, the white cobblestone paths, the houses lining the winding roads all the way to the horizon.

“I think you don’t have to be so concerned about what it’s supposed to be,” he says. “You can give yourself permission to just—live it. Enjoy it, free of expectations. Who cares what you think about it after, right,” he says. “You’ll have a ring on your left hand. That’s good enough to offset any—well, awkwardness, or clumsiness, or anything, because as the bride, you are sort of incapable of doing anything wrong, by default.”

“I guess,” Genevieve says.

“It’d be a disservice to Aimee if you spent the wedding worrying about how to get things right idstead of like, just living,” Yves says, turning to face her. “What’s the worst that could happen? Like, you spill your drink during the wedding toast, or your mascara smears a little, or you trip on your wedding gown and you have to be helped up by the woman you love most? I think that almost makes it more romantic,” he says. “Because however the moment crystallizes, it’ll be you.”

“Did you learn all of this through pottery and sculpting?” Genevieve asks, wiping at her eyes. She looks a little better than before—she’s sitting up straighter, and the tension in her shoulders is less pronounced.

Yves grins at her. “I have a younger brother and a younger sister,” he says. He clears his throat again, though it doesn’t really do a good job at making his voice sound less hoarse. “It’s exactly as bad as you think it is. I have to be the one to talk them out of their stage fright like, all the time.”

Genevieve laughs. “It must be lively,” she says. “Your whole family is very accommodating.”

“They’re certaidly a handful,” Yves says, with a laugh that tapers off into a short cough. “I love them to death. And I’ll be happy to have you as part of them.”

She smiles at him. The evening light strikes the windblown strands of her hair gold. “Thanks for this.”

“Yeah,” he says. “No problem.”

They sit for awhile in silence. Yves crosses his arms in an attempt to conserve warmth and tries his best not to shiver too visibly.

“How did you kdow it was her?” he asks—a sudden, impulsive question.

As soon as he says it, he feels the urge to take it back. Genevieve is already stressed out enough about the wedding without him asking her difficult, abstract questions the day before the ceremony. He opens his mouth to apologize.

“There was never any doubt,” she says.

When he looks over at her, her expression looks a little wistful.

“Like, one day I woke up and I realized that whatever future I imagined for myself—in Marseille, or elsewhere; as a copywriter, or a journalist, or a director, or something entirely different—she would always be there.” Yves understands that—back when he’d been dating Erika, he’d felt like that too. That she was going to be the last person he’d ever date. That there was no conceivable future for him that didn’t involve her.

“Those kinds of revelations would come at the most insignificant of times,” Genevieve says. “I’d look over her halfway through morning coffee, or I’d watch her pick groceries from the aisle, or I’d watch her fiddle with the radio as she drove, and then it would strike me.”

“That you wanted to be with her?”

“That I was happy.” Genevieve tilts her head back to face the setting sun. “I’m really happy. It sounds like such a simple thing, and it is, but even a few years ago I’m not sure if I could’ve told you that that was true. And I think that finding someone who makes you feel that way—like they’d guard your happiness under any circumstance—is really something special.”

“You were the one who proposed to her,” he says. He remembers Aimee texting him about it, the night after it’d happened, remembers how he’d excused himself from dinner somewhere or other, ducked out of the room to get on call with her. She’d sobbed recounting it, the engagement ring on her finger.

“I was,” Genevieve says. She smiles. “I knew that if I gave up this chance I’d be kicking myself for it for the rest of my life.”

—

When he gets back from dinner at last, it’s late.

The cold/flu medicine he took from earlier is starting to wear off. His whole body aches—spending the evening outside in the cold probably didn’t help with that—and even in the relative warmth of the hotel room, he finds that he can’t stop himself from shivering.

He takes a hot shower, which feels pleasantly indulgent in the moment, but not long after he shuts off the water, he finds himself shivering again. The absence of the hot water makes him a little dizzy—he finds himself gripping the tiled wall, pausing for a moment behind the shower curtain to catch his balance.

His head really hurts. It’s the kind of sharp, throbbing pain that makes him all too aware of his heartbeat. He gets changed, towels his hair dry, and steps out of the bathroom.

Vincent is sitting on the bed, reading something. He must’ve gotten back at some point while Yves was showering. At the sound of the door, he puts the book down and looks up.

“How was the wedding rehearsal?” he asks.

“Great,” Yves says. He clears his throat, but clearing his throat irritates his throat enough that he has to muffle a few coughs into his elbow. “How was dinner with Genevieve’s friends?”

“They were very nice,” Vincent says.

“Ndicer than my friends in New York?”

“I felt less like I was being evaluated,” Vincent says, with a smile. “But if they were to express their disapproval of me in French, I would be none the wiser.”

Yves laughs. “I’mb sure that even if you learned the ladguage in full, you wouldn’t hear any disapproval from them.” He takes a seat on the couch, if only because he can’t quite trust his legs to keep him upright for the entire course of the conversation. “What did you guys talk about?”

“Lots of things. Life in France,” he says. “Life in the states. Individual freedom and the formal institution of marriage.”

“Do you believe in mbarriage?”

Vincent looks at him. “I think I believe in it just as much as everyone else does,” he says. Then, after a moment: “It worked out for my parents.”

“The busidess competition proved to be a good edough reason?”

Vincent traces a finger down the spine of the book, over the gold lettering. His shoulders settle. “They weren’t in love when they got married,” he says. Hearing him state it so plainly comes as a surprise to Yves. “Strictly speaking, I’m not sure if they ever were in love. But I think they came to love each other eventually.”

“What about you?” Yves asks. “Do you think you’ll fall in love someday?”

“Is that really something I’d choose?” Vincent says. “It either happens or it doesn’t.”

“Sure, but there are plenty of ways you can seek out love actively.” 

“If I found something worth pursuing, I’d go after it,” Vincent says.

Yves laughs. “That’s very like you.” he wonders what kind of person Vincent might be drawn to enough to see as worth pursuing. Wonders if, after all of this is over, he’ll even be in Vincent’s life for long enough to know.

His head hurts. The slight prickle of irritation in his sinuses is already tiringly familiar.

“hHEh… HeHh’IIDZSCH-yyiEW!” The sneeze snaps him forward at the waist, messy and spraying. He reaches for the tissue box Vincent left him this morning, still nestled into the crook of the couch, and grabs a generous handful of tissues. “Hh… hehh-HEh-HhehHh’IIzSSCH-iEEw! Hh…. HEHh’DJSCCHh-IEew!”

The sneezes leave him coughing, afterwards. His throat feels raw and tender—he raises the tissues back up to his face to blow his nose.

“You sound worse than you did last night,” Vincent says, with a frown.

Yves opens his mouth to speak, but he finds himself coughing again. He can feel Vincent’s eyes on him. It’s embarrassing, he thinks, to be seen when he’s like this by someone who’s usually so well put together. “I’b a little prone to losidg my voice when I’m sick,” he admits. “It’s pretty incodvedient.”

“I’m probably not making it any better by talking to you,” Vincent says. That might be true—Yves is half sure that any time he does lose his voice, it’s because he typically makes no effort to converse any less than usual—but Yves likes talking to Vincent. Besides, they haven’t talked all day. 

He opens his mouth to say as much, but then Vincent asks: “How are you feeling?”

“Good as new,” Yves says. When Vincent raises an eyebrow, at that, he amends: “Good enough for tomorrow, at least. The ceremony doesn’t start until three, but I’ll probably be up earlier to see if there’s anything else Aimee and Genevieve ndeed help with.”

Vincent’s eyebrows furrow. “If anything comes up, I can help.”

“It’s fine,” Yves says. “I couldn’t ask you to do that.”

“You don’t have to ask. I’m offering.”

“I can handle it on my own. Even if it doesn’t seem like it, I— hHHEh’IDJZSCHh-yyEW! snf-! I’mb really fine. I swear.”

“Yves—”

“I’ve done this before,” he insists, which is true, too—he’s certainly been through worse. It would be wrong to put himself first, to take things easy when he might be needed still. “It doesn’t have to be your problem.”

For a moment, there’s something there, to Vincent’s expression—a flash of something that looks suspiciously close to hurt. Then it’s gone. When he blinks, Vincent’s expression is carefully neutral, as usual. He wonders if he’d imagined it.

“Okay,” he says. He sets the book gingerly on the bedside counter, and pulls the cord on the lamp. Darkness engulfs the bedroom. “You should sleep soon, if you’re able to.” A pause. The rustling of sheets. “Goodnight.” Yves wants to say something. He has a feeling that he’s messed things up, somehow, though he’s not entirely sure how. 

But what can he say? He just—he just wants, desperately, for all of this to be okay. He wants the wedding to go just as planned, wants to be as present and as reliable as Aimee deserves for him to be. All of that responsibility falls on him and him alone, doesn’t it? 

“Goodnight,” Yves says, instead.

[ Part 4 ]

[swanimagines]

Could I request morpheus finding his wife after imprisonment in the mortal realm maybe she left to keep watch of the dreams that left the dreaming and is living as a mortal (maybe has a job at a bookstore). Morpheus gets slightly possessive and protective (you're my wife you belong in the dreaming where you're safe) and maybe gets a little jealous of a human friend she made. Ends with them goung back to the dreaming. I kinda imagine a grumpy x sunshine vibe. it can be fluffy slightly-angsty or even more of a funnier side up to you either way I'll read it

Also I say wife and fem-terms but I don't mind it being made gender neutral if you prefer

Thank you for your time and effort I look forward to more amazing content ✨️ 💕

Fandom: The Sandman

A/N: I made her as female because the thing in these is that when you use certain pronouns and say that she's his wife etc when requesting, I can't help but mentally adapt it onto the fic = I might accidentally use womanly stuff even if I'm trying to write it gn = I might get hate for it (it has happened before and it was quite a show last time which ended in a big drama and I lost a lot of followers for that and I definitely don't want it to happen again). Saying because I know someone might think I'm avoiding gn the best I can and attack me for it if I don't say anything. (And clarifying that I don't think it's your fault, it's just one of my oddities and I apologize for that, and yeah I have to admit that I prefer writing fem reader because at least then I know I won't make mistakes that would cause drama, but I want my blog to be as inclusive as possible with my abilities so I also write gn)

Word count: 1.4k

When your husband disappeared, the whole Dreaming had gone crazy. People were worried about him first - then frustrated, and then they started to flee. You and Lucienne tried to tell them to stay and questioned if they'd really believe Morpheus would abandon his kingdom and all of its people like that.

"It has happened before," Afsaix grumbled as he packed his bags with everything he owned. "There's no telling when he'll return."

You grabbed the faun's arm and made him look at you. "He will come back! I know it!" Your words came out more desperate than you intended.

Lucienne watched the scene from the door, sighing as yet another resident of The Dreaming was about to leave.

The faun ripped his arm from your grip, closing his bag. "Don't be ridiculous, he's been gone for what, over 30 years? My house is in crumbles, I have nothing here anymore… We need to find somewhere new," he said quietly but firmly. He shook himself as if your hands had given him fleas and left.

"Lucienne, we have to stop this!" you pleaded with the only person who was just as confident of Morpheus returning as you were.

"I'm afraid there's little to do other than wait. Once Lord Morpheus comes back, we can work on restoring all this, but until then, we can only wait." She sighed, rubbing her forehead tiredly.

You nodded in defeat, knowing she's right. Then your eyes widened, only now realising where the dreams are going.

"Lucienne, they're going to The Waking World, which means that someone has to guard them," you told your friend desperately. "I have to go there and guard their doings. They can cause a lot of damage in there."

"I understand your concern, my lady, but are you certain you're ready to take such a large job on you?" Lucienne asked kindly.

You nodded again. "I have to, it's my responsibility while my husband is away. I will make sure everything remains safe." You bit your lip before you briefly hugged her. "And you, keep people who decide to stay safe here."

"I will do my best, my lady."

***

You had settled in a little town and began working at a little bookshop around the corner with a nice woman living upstairs, secretly keeping an eye on dreams and nightmares that had escaped here. Most dreams settled just fine, living a peaceful life. But you sensed they felt like they didn't completely fit in this world, which was true, and you were sure they'd come back once Morpheus would return.

A hand was laid on your shoulder, and you smiled at your friend - Michael, a young man, barely 18, and you had persuaded Mrs. Brooks give him his first job.

"What is it?" you asked gently, and Michael gestured at one of the shelves with an elderly woman.

"She's trying to find a book that she read as a child, she doesn't seem to understand we don't have so old books."

"Oh dear," you sighed as you walked up to her.

The woman stared blankly into space, repeating "I need that storybook," over and over again.

You whipped your hand, a book appearing in your hand. "This one?" You held out the book, and her eyes lit up when she saw the title.

"Oh! Exactly that one, the young man over there said that you don't have it."

"Michael is new, and this is our last edition. Do forgive him."

The woman came to the desk, tightly holding onto the book and gave you a generous amount of money, way too much for it. "Keep the change, you just made an old woman's year." She patted your cheek kindly before leaving with the precious book.

You smiled after her, Michael blinking.

"How do you do that?" he asked.

"Do what? Make people happy?"

"No! The thing that you know exactly what they're looking for without them telling you, and then you just have it in your hands the next moment." He frowned thoughtfully.

You chuckled softly, putting your hand on his shoulder. "I guess I just am good at reading humans. But Michael, would you be a dear and go unload a box of books that arrived this morning? I have to order another box for next week."

"Of course, right away," Michael replied eagerly, going back to work. You went behind the counter and got to work yourself, barely hearing a tingle of the door bell as the door opened. You heard steps and saw someone stopping to stand between the shelves.

"I'll be with you in a moment," you called out. The person didn't answer, but stood still which you found a little weird and finally looked up. Your breath hitched when you met his gaze.

He stood there in his black coat and a small smile playing on his lips, and you couldn't help but feel something stir inside your chest. It was like butterflies were flying around in there, as if you saw him for the first time - and it kind of was, first time in over a century. "Morpheus!" you breathed happily.

"My love." His voice whispered as you circled the counter and ran to him. You crushed against him with all the strength left in your body - his smell filled your nose, the warmth of his coat embracing you. Then he pulled away slightly, searching your eyes.

"Where have you been?" You asked urgently. "I've missed you so much."

"I was imprisoned, my sweet," he told you sadly, cupping your face tenderly. "I was kept away because of people's selfishness and greediness."

You kissed him then, relieved that he's returned safe and sound. Then you heard someone clear their throat and broke away, looking at Michael frowning at the two of you. Morpheus frowned back at him, but you just smiled.

"Michael, can I introduce you to my husband?" You laughed lightly before gesturing the boy closer.

"Oh! So this is your husband, he returned from his trip then? Pleasure to meet you, I'm Michael." he extended his hand to Morpheus, but he didn't shake it, just glared at him and Michael retreated his hand. "Right. Um, do excuse me." He cleared his throat again nervously and walked back to the storage room.

You frowned at Morpheus after Michael had closed the door after him "Why did you do that for? He tried to be nice."

"Humans are not nice. They are full of themselves, thinking they are better than everyone else. People who kept me prisoner showed me how humans truly are." Morpheus sighed heavily, and you rolled your eyes.

"You're jealous." He didn't reply, but his expression confirmed it. "You have no reason to."

"We will go back to The Dreaming now." he muttered, turning towards the door, but stopping as he saw you had no intention to follow him.

"Morpheus, I have to take care of the shop first."

He sighed, lifting his chin up. "No, you are my wife, you belong in The Dreaming with me, where you are safe. You do not belong here among mortals."

"I didn't mean I'm staying here for good," you said with a small laugh. "I just have to arrange things so I won't leave anyone in trouble."

"You worry too much," he murmured, leaning down and kissing your forehead tenderly. His hands stroked your cheeks softly and looked around the little bookshop. "This is... nice looking."

"Well, not as nice as the library at the palace, but it's a cute little shop." you grinned, taking in your surroundings. This building had been your workplace for over a century, it had gone for so long that you pretended to be the great-granddaughter of your first self, but you always knew there would be an end for it. You had told Mrs. Brooks when you started working that you'd quit once your husband returns from overseas from his "business trip" and one of your employment conditions were that you have the right to quit on the spot if you wished. She had been fine with it, she had a bunch of people who were willing to do part-time job there in case they were in need of a new employee - her friends who had already retired, if you had gotten it right.

So you squeezed your husband's hand and made your way upstairs to tell Mrs. Brooks that it had come your time to leave, and after hugging Michael and getting a box of cookies from Mrs. Brooks and her wife, you took off with Morpheus, back to The Dreaming.

Back to home.

---

The Sandman taglist: @jesllianaquilesrolon // send in an ask to be added, and specify which of my fandoms you want to be tagged on! Don’t just say “can you add me to your taglist” as I can’t know what taglists do you mean by that!! ALSO IF YOU WON’T INTERACT BEYOND LIKING, I’LL EVENTUALLY TAKE YOU OFF THE LIST!!

[mutable-manifestation]

Family at the Core

So I decided to continue the rogues-as-family-with-Danny once they realize he's a baby & flee to the DC universe/Gotham fic.

Parts 1 & 2

Info: AU where you gotta fight ecto with ecto - it’s the only thing that has any effect on them, and it’s part of the reason why the ghosts love Amity so much - aside from the whole “thinking danny was old ghost pretending at being human and openly challenging pretty much everyone by claiming a Living Realm haunt and then opening a stable portal in it” (from their perspective pre-’holy shit he’s baby’ realization) - Danny? Sam & Tucker with ecto weapons? Humans who can and will put up a challenge but won’t try to seriously harm them ala bastards like Pariah & the Guys In White? It’s practically the ideal ghostly vacation spot. 

The Fenton fam are the first to discover how to fight ghosts in their dimension, but DC didn’t have blood blossoms and made the deal w/Pariah before they figured out the ecto v ecto option

This is pre-ID reveals among the JL because it’s funnier. 

Disclaimer: idk how the police work I’m just rolling with what sounds probably like it’d be right.

***

Kitty and Johnny disappear before they can discuss a time for the police sweep, but Kitty <i>had</i> asked for Bruce’s number earlier in the conversation - “To set up that playdate once we’re more settled in” - after Bruce had mentioned the benefits of peer contact for children.

(The complete and utter disconnect from information about humans certainly lent credence to their claim of being ghosts - or at least not humans)  

She’d promised to give him a call once they got their phones set up. Hopefully that would be soon - they really needed to talk about the Lazarus Pit in the building before the kid fell in and died - assuming they truly weren’t aware of it prior to selecting the location. 

Perhaps Bruce could convince them to block it off? If they truly weren’t after the pit, he could ask about setting them up with a better place; make up some excuse about wanting the building for the company.

He makes contact with them and is left with more questions than answers; at least they know where they are now, despite the in-costume team's inability to track them as they left.

Constantine and Deadman arrive together <i>less</i> than an hour later, managing to arrive at the Batcave at the same time as Bruce’s group.

Constantine twirls an unlit cigarette between his fingers as the footage of the Joker incident plays.

It stops twirling when the lunch lady appears on the screen.

His lips form a grim line as he watches.

“Anyone ever told you you’re the unluckiest bastard this side ‘a the pond?” Constantine asks, turning to Batman once the first video concludes.

“No.” Is Batman’s humorless reply.

“Don’t leave us in suspense here, Conny,” Nightwing slides closer to lightly elbow him in the side. “Is Damian Wayne’s doppelganger the most haunted kid in America or what?”

Robin, for his part, crossed his arms and continued sulking - as he had been since Batman had read them in on the existence of JL Dark and verified that ghosts were indeed real.

“Most haunted kid this damn dimension, Bird boy,” Constantine answered, stowing his cigarette. “Those-” he gestures to the now-blank screen “-are Infinite Realms Ghosts. They aren’t like Deadman here, they’re about a million times worse.”

“Hey!” Deadman protests.

“They come from a place they call ‘The Infinite Realms’ - big shock there. Their kind haven’t been seen in this dimension for tens of thousands of years now; most people just think they’re myths by this point. I only even know about it because my thrice-damned house wouldn’t stop throwing a book on the subject at me until I read it a few years back.”

He puts the cigarette away in favor of crossing his arms.

“The Realms are said to be connected to every dimension there is, and legend has it that way back when we got a lot of visitors from their side. Had a lot of names - the era of chaos, the age of disaster, whatever you wanna call it. They treated this dimension like a plaything, and there was nothing anyone could do to stop them. 

Nothing worked - salt, holy symbols, the magics of the time, etc. Supposedly, someone even tried summoning a demon and watched the thing get hunted. Realms ghosts were leagues more powerful than any of the other known beings at the time and no one could find a way to fight them. The only reason they left was because some group made a deal with their king - no details on what the deal involved other than getting them to get lost.”

“So we are simply supposed to hope that their king isn’t too busy dealing with the infinitely many other dimensions they are apparently hooked up to to come get a few strays out of ours?” Robin questions icily.

“It means you’re simply supposed to give me a chance to do some more research - I only skimmed the one book to get the house off my back. What I read wasn’t promising, but that doesn’t mean there isn’t more useful information buried somewhere.” Constantine replies with an eyeroll. “For now, if they want to play house with some poor bastard? Wayne’s got enough kids to know how to give good enough advice they don’t accidentally kill him in the meantime. Infiltrate their playdates if you’re that worried. And look on the bright side! They took care of your clown problem. Now, you said you had two videos?”

“Yes,” Batman answers tightly, bringing up said second video. “We managed to get footage of their meeting with the Waynes.”

The second watching was far less eventful.

Until the very end, when Kitty and Bruce shake hands and Constantine lets loose a stream of curses.

“What? What’s wrong?” Red Robin demands.

“What’s wrong is that Brucie Wayne is dumber than a sack of damn bricks.” 

The batclan members make various coughing/strangled noises at this, save for Batman, who remains stoic. 

“Who the fuck meets a self-declared non-human entity and shakes on a deal.” Constantine drags an exasperated hand down his face. “Make sure Wayne knows his ass needs to buy them that building asap or Ghost Girl gets to make him dance to whatever tune she wants; break a deal with a dealmaker and they get controlling shares in your soul.”

“I see,” Batman says, “We’ll get in touch with him again after this; we need to discuss the police sweep of the Yuyan building anyway. If direct observation will help, he should be willing to bring you along as a civilian friend.”

Constantine looked at him like he had three heads.

“Not a chance in hell, Bats.”

He backs away from the table toward the cave’s Zeta tube.

“Oh! Oh, me! Pick me! I wanna meet the new ghosts!” Deadman shook his arms wildly, doing loops in the air.

“The visibility spell won’t last that long and we don’t know if their kind of ghost can see you without it. Also, we were in the middle of something. We already detoured. Let’s finish the job and then we can come back and play ghost party 2: yet another pain in my ass edition, yeah?” 

“Awwwwww,” Deadman slouched sadly before zipping into the tube with him.

“Great. Have fun, try to get along with the new neighbors, don’t shake any hands, don’t do anything I wouldn’t do, yadda yadda, aaaaaand bye.”

And with that, they were gone. 

“Well that’s not ideal,” Nightwing mutters.

The meeting had at least answered one question.

Now for the other two dozen.

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

Kitty wants to get this cop sweep over with as soon as possible.

The others are hesitant at first - or territorial, in Walker’s case - but a little fast-talking has him all for the idea. 

The chronic rule-follower had only taken to making his own rules because of the zone’s inherent chaos and lack of real, broader government. In Gotham there are rules pre-made to follow, to enforce. He eats it up.

He’ll be obsessed with being law-abiding once he’s done studying up, but Kitty had been headed towards a future in law before her own death. She was well aware that it would take him - even with the aid of an eidetic memory - a minimum of months to read enough to actually start enforcing anything. 

And until he’d read it all? Kitty was free to make him paranoid about missing a later subsection to create her own Walker-loopholes.

Once he’s on-side, he practically carries the argument for her. She only pipes up again to mention how “the baby would probably be a lot more comfortable with a stable, uncontested home.”

Walker does his own sweep of the building, opening cabinets and hidden passages and drawing attention to weapons and other hints of crimes-past and Kitty hovers over Technus’ shoulder as they hash out the details of how best to lure in the police.

The Box Ghost leads the others - except Ember, who ‘s on baby-watch at the pool - in packaging up everything they want to keep to be phased into the ground under the building.

Arguing took most of the time and it’s only the work of another two hours to have the entire building ready for the cops to peruse. 

In the end, they decide setting off a small bomb by the entrance is the easiest way to draw police attention - they’ll come investigate, when no one responds they’ll have to check it out, they’ll find the weapons and cult-like documents and murder records Walker had located sitting out in the open, et voila: wanted owners and building up for grabs.

They, of course, will be invisibly watching the whole thing.

Danny hasn’t left the pool since their arrival and they don’t want him to, so he stays there with Johnny on watch to make them both invisible if and when anyone enters that room.

It goes off without a hitch, and by 11 o’clock Kitty is flying to a nearby roof to call Bruce and remind him of his end of the bargain.

***

@yjfk @fisticuffsatapplebees @little-pondhead @avery-isastupid-name @queenofdiscord @samgirl98 @inkyunicorn @mimilikey @aconitewolfsbane @miraculousandmore @someonebored0100 @wildbacon-blog @fleshybeing @vala-dreams @ironicvixen @blurblurbblurrrr @ectoplasmic-knife

[pbpsbff]

happy 1 year of r&r :)

i know it's a lil cringe to like. celebrate the birthday of a series on ao3 but r&r is literally my child. my baby. i birthed this series. and you all signed up for this when u started reading my fics thank u

soooooooo thank u guys for all the support i've received over r&r i know it's hard to stay a consistent reader when my posting schedule is entirely non existent but i am so grateful for everyone who's stuck around this long and been with me for this journey (calling it a journey because a year ago i did not have any sort of overarching plot in mind and now we're 17? 18? fics deep and so many things have happened and i'm usually just as surprised as my readers) it's rlly u guys that have kept me going this long

ANYWAY. i rewrote this like 500 times cause i hate being like. overly sappy on this account because it's way funnier to act like a celebrity with a huge ego, but real talk i am so proud of everything i've done w this series & what it's become in the past year

i've been posting my writing online since i was like 10, so we're going on almost 9 years now and i don't think i've ever ever ever received as much support for something as i have for r&r and something about that is soooo special to me??? idk it's just so nice to see a completely self indulgent series become so loved by others, especially since the only other fics i had up before gmm&m were a little more on the "i'm gonna write what seems popular right now" side???

like shoutout to everyone who was here before/around when i started the series because my account was so empty like. 2 fics and one gets updated every 6 months. r&r pulled me out of the trench i fear. it also cured me of my very horrible disease that makes me delete all my fics after 9 months and then completely disappear from a fandom so everyone say thank you r&r

but yeah idk where i'm going with this i'm very grateful for r&r and all the friends i've made and people i've met through it because i was very lonely before i rejoined tumblr and r&r was like. 90% of the reason i made my account

AND SPEAKING OF FRIENDS. thank u to

@spidergrotto & @sapoteylx for being the first ppl i met on here to openly talk about and support r&r which i thought was so so cool even if you guys have become my haters in the past few months i've known you :/ thank u r&r nation u keep me humble and miserable (and i am very thankful for our friendship i think some aspects of r&r would be very different if we'd never met)

& ao3 user classactical because you've been here since like. a month or two into the series i think and i always always always look forward to your comments because i feel like if you comment, i did a good job on the fic LOL thank u for sticking around for so long, even if ao3 has been actively working against you for a whiiiiile

there's a lot more i want to say and a lot of people i want to mention but that would take a very long time and i always feel weird tagging a lot of people in posts so just know if u read r&r we are kissing rn. or high fiving idk whatever floats ur boat i guess

but yeah anyway tl:dr happy birthday r&r i'm very proud of this series & very thankful for everyone who has read any part of it ever u guys are so cool and hot and have amazing taste and i'm taking your kudos and bookmarks etc. as you swearing your allegiance to me and promising me your undying support no matter what (legally binding btw) thank u guys

[curatoroffiction]

Hi! Idk if you still write about Obey Me! Characters anymore or not but I just read your fic about Mc on their monthly and I absolutely fell in LOVE with it! I was wondering if you could do one where Mammon kind of takes care of Mc while they’re pregnant? I just think it would be a cute idea to see Mammon go into devoted partner/parent mode :)

I actively write for Obey Me and Twisted Wonderland, actually! Thank you for asking!

If you're ever wondering what my status is for taking requests, you can find my status updated on my "Masterlist/Rules" post, which is pinned on my blog. I've now added a link that I'll keep updated on the latest posts I make for that status. Also, I've done a few AFAB pieces recently, but I also am comfortable doing AMAB pieces as well if any readers are curious!

That being said, I hope you enjoy this! It was a little more outside my wheelhouse, but I wanted to make it fun and engaging as much as I wanted to make it comforting and heartwarming. It falls a little outside your request, but it sparked a muse and I ran with it.

Content Warnings:

AFAB Reader

Gender Neutral Reader

Pregnancy

Established romance with Mammon

------------------------------------------------------------------------------ "So what's this gonna be like?" Mammon, arms wrapped around your shoulders, looks to Solomon from over your shoulder.

As the resident expert on humans and demons, and having an extensive history of oddjobs, many of which were medical, Solomon made the most adept medical professional for your current situation. You and Mammon have decided to start a family together. That doesn't come without its own complications, but Solomon made it easier.

It also helped that he helped you fuck with Mammon a lot.

"Well, as the baby grows inside of me, it'll eventually start growing a brain, and probably by about the second or third trimester, it'll start trying to fight me for control of my body." You hardly keep a straight face, but it gets worse as you and Mammon see Solomon sagely nodding along. You almost break and laugh right then and there.

Mammon's face turns from disbelief to shock at the sight of Solomon agreeing and he looks to you with the most gentle and nervous horror. Like he feels responsible for what you're about to endure. It's so hard to keep a straight face as he's losing it, so you half-cover your mouth and close your eyes, nodding to reaffirm what you've just said.

Mammon steps back, releasing you from his comforting hug as he tries to digest this information. He realizes he's about to lose it in front of you, so he excuses himself. "Uh, I just realized I left our.. Our pregnancy bag! Back in the car! Yeah! I'll be right back."

You can tell he's freaking out. It takes all of yours and Solomon's strength not to crack until Mammon's gone. ---

Once he's gone, you two just lose it. You laugh so hard that tears form in the corners of your eyes. Solomon has to hold himself up against his table.

Between hushed laughter, Solomon wheezes out; "I didn't think he'd actually believe it"

"I never thought you'd go along"

"How long do you think we can keep this up"

"Honestly depends on whether Belphegor wants to spoil the fun or not."

"I hope we can keep this going forever."

"It'd truly be the gift that keeps on giving." ---

Mammon, texting his brothers;

Mammon: [APPARENTLY HUMAN BABIES PILOT THEIR HOSTS WHEN THEY GET SMART ENOUGH]

Levi: [Wait, wait what??]

[YEAH, LIKE THOSE ROBOTS FROM YOUR SHOWS]

[WAIT WHAT]

[YOU KNOW- THE ONES THAT PEOPLE GET INSIDE AND PILOT??]

[YOU TURNED ___ INTO A MECH?]

[YEAH]

Lucifer, interjecting: [That doesn't sound right.]

Belphegor, who knows damn well this is not what happens when humans have babies, is opting to stay silent, because this is significantly funnier than calling Mammon out for being stupid. If the entire group can believe this, it's even better.

Beelzebub, worried: [Are they going to be okay?? What's going to happen when the baby's in charge? Are we going to have to watch them?]

Satan: [I'm looking through my human pregnancy and prenatal books right now and I'm not finding anything about the baby taking over its host?]

Belphegor, who won't stand for your baby being treated like a parasite, only interjects to explain: [Parent. Not host. Parent. The parent carrying the baby.]

Satan, not understanding: [That's what I said?]

Belphegor: [___ isn't a host, they are the parent. Stop calling them a host like the baby is some kind of tumor.]

Lucifer: [Mammon. Please explain? Why do you think that the baby is going to pilot ___?]

Mammon, who still is losing his collective shit: [___ SAID IT THEMSELF AND SOLOMON SAID IT WAS TRUE, AND I'M FREAKING OUT. SOLOMON SAID IT WAS NORMAL AND WOULDN'T BE HARMFUL, BUT WHAT THE FUCK IS WRONG WITH HUMANS]

Beelzebub: [I wonder if the baby will like different foods when its in control. I'm excited to meet the baby.]

Asmodeus: [Oooh, I can get the baby's preferences for when we're getting their room ready, and deciding on clothes! What a great evolutionary trait!]

Satan: [I want to see if we can learn what books it likes. Then we can stock up on lots of them before they arrive.]

Mammon: [HOW ARE YOU ALL STAYING SO CALM?!]

Lucifer: [You said they said it was normal for humans, yes?]

Mammon: [Yeah??]

Lucifer: [Then there's no need to worry. You started a family with someone from another realm, so now you get a crash-course in their biology. Did you not think there would be differences between you two?]

Mammon: [BUT THIS IS WEIRD, RIGHT?]

Leviathan: [I'm actually with Mammon on this one for once.]

Mammon: [THANK YOU]

Lucifer: [Whatever may come, you're the one they chose. Are you going to prove yourself as their 'Number One', or are you going to fail them?]

There's a long pause in the chat as everyone awaits Mammon's reply. It takes him a moment as he's still freaking out but now he's upset because Lucifer is right. You chose him. He's your number one in every sense of the word. If he can't handle this, then does he deserve to be your number one?

Mammon: [I'm still freaking out but you're right. I've got a family now. I've got to stay strong and be the man they know they can rely on.]

Lucifer: [Good.]

Asmodeus: [Where are they?]

Mammon: [Oh shit I ran out of there I've gotta go back] ---

Mammon returns, sheepish, way outside of his element, and feeling like he's in over his head, but he refuses to ever let you down. He dips into Simeon's room, since you're both at Purgatory Hall for the check-up with Solomon, and he steals a bouquet of flowers from a vase in the angel's room. He dries them off on his shirt and brings them to you. When he arrives, he asks Solomon to give you two a moment together alone.

When Solomon's gone, Mammon hands you the flowers and looks away, his face hot with embarrassment. "Whatever happens, I'm here for ya'. I'm not goin' anywhere. Sorry if I seemed freaked out before, I just, this is new to me. But I'm here. And I ain' goin' anywhere. Even if y'get mad, or the baby hates me!"

You feel your heart soften from his warmth. That same love and devotion that melted your heart when you first got to know this demon. He's still as determined as ever to be strong for you. You smile warmly, moving to hug him, resting your head in against his shoulder. He softly massages into your back - A comfort he's been doing more as the pregnancy has been giving you backaches. "The baby's not going to hate you, Love. They couldn't. You're amazing."

You can feel the heat in Mammon's body rise as he gives you a soft squeeze, careful of your torso as he buries his face in your neck. "No you are.. There's so much new ground we're treadin', an' you're just so strong in the face of it all.." He rarely lets down his walls to admit his fears, but when it's just you, he's not ashamed to admit he's afraid. He knows you know his strength. "I just wanna prove to ya' that I'm here for all of it. I'll be your rock. Alright?"

You move to warmly peck his face, causing him to softly pepper your cheek with pecks, until you two meet in the middle in a warm, gentle kiss. You two savor the contact for a moment. When you part, you softly murmur "… Thank you. I love you."

Mammon smiles big, grinning as his love for you swells in his chest. He hugs you close. "We're gonna have a baby!" He picks you up, doing a small celebratory turn in a circle and gently setting you back down as you laugh, hugging him back just as warmly.

"We're gonna have a baby."

"Fuck, I love you.." You can see small tears forming in the corners of his eyes as he says this to you, his hand softly cradling your face. You laugh happily with his mushiness, cradling his head to you, tugging him into another kiss, which he warmly returns.

Mammon's love for you is overwhelming, and no matter what the odds you face together, he'll be there to fight right beside you. ---

Bonus Scene:

Belphegor, texting Solomon;

Belphegor: [So like, how long is this gag gonna go?]

Solomon: [As long as ___ can keep a straight face. I can go forever.]

Belphegor: [I'm in.]

Solomon: [They're going to be so happy to hear that.]

[mousydentist]

my favorite fics that i wrote and why

So, first I'll explain. I'm gonna being reccing my own fics which I'm not super sure how to do cause I mostly just yeet shit on ao3 and let the fates decide, and I'm never sure what's like, too much? Like I see other people rec their own fics and I'm like (O O) how do i do that. Like idk why I have this resistance to like, telling people that I like my own fics? So today I said fuck that, everyone's gonna know now.

And I've just been doing not so hot recently for a number of reason and I figured like, I've been obsessing over so much, why don't I get to be excited about the good things? So anyway, these are my favorite fics that I've written, not just the ones that have done the best or whatever, just my personal favorites, so without further ado...

(quick fyi, all of these are locked so you need to be logged into ao3 to view)

First up is sorry that i can't believe anybody really starts to fall in love with me , don't ask why the name is so long I just like the song lmao. This one's special to me cause it was my first KPTS fic. Is it the best? No. Does it have a super deep meaning? Nope. But it's cute and it's mine so I love it. Next!

the imperfect art of making it. Very self indulgent. I wrote this for the endorphins fic fest which gave me the motivation to write, but really I just loving transing my characters, and soft KimChay deserves lots of love.

Next up, do you look up to the sky? My first whumptober fic and the first one I wrote bc as soon as I looked at the prompts I was like "oh Kim's getting locked in the fucking basement for sure" and then he did! Success. Also KimChay are a pstd4ptsd couple, I won't be taking questions at this time.

This is getting longer than I thought it was gonna be but fuck it, I told myself I was doing this to remind myself why I like writing and that I do actually enjoy it so the longer the better tbh bc it means I really do love it. It's not a bad thing if all of my fics have a special place in my heart, right?

Ok last of the non dead dove ones is i should have kissed you. I don't exactly have a reason, I just think it's a good fic.

The next ones are dead dove cause I have two modes which are cute fluff and illegal <3

chay and kinn and chay. This thing is my baby. I love him with my whole heart. I wrote him in discord messages on my walk to and from classes. This is one fic that I would not be ashamed to say I've read several times over. This is the fic that I think of when people say "write the fics you want to read." This was also a spite fic which makes all of that even funnier lmao

Willow Dancin' On Air. This one's not dead dove but it is KimVegas so eh. But this is another fic I wrote purely for myself. I just wanted some fluffy lil somethin somethin and now every time I listen to this song I think of this fic

Ok last one, Why minors shouldn’t gamble. This one also started on discord and was written in my notes app at like. 9 am while I was still in bed lmao. Because that's where inspiration peaks. And it's hot idk. omegaverse will never not be be a special interest of mine, hopefully one day we can find out what happens when Kim joins the party, I'm genuinely curious.

OK! So. That was something. Tbh I feel a lot better lmao. My therapist would be so proud of me if I ever told her I write fanfiction pff. Normalize reading your own fics over and over. I'm saying that directly to myself cause I see all these like motivational things about writing and then I don't believe them, what's that about?? Doing this reminded me that I actually like the things I create, highly recommend. Now I'm gonna get myself a glass of water cause for the next maybe 12 hours I'm changing my life!! I'm doing self care!!! Woo hoo!!!!! Now to post this before I remember that other people can see it :) Ok bye ✌️

[nasuversekinkmeme]

Weekly roundup: prompts

Tsukihime

Fate/Stay Night

Merlin definitely knew that, in the end, Artoria would die before she reached her twilight years, that Lancelot would etch his love through the blood of the other knights, that Mordred would finally reach the end of his fuse and bring Camelot down with him. So, days before the unstoppable pebble started rolling into an avalanche, he invites the Round Table to knights to one final banquet and says his goodbyes

Kirei forces Lancer to read homestuck with one of his command seals

In order to leave a mark against her rivals, Sakura gropes Shirou in the kitchen all while Saber and Rin wait for their food. Noncon or not up to the author

"All legends come from Gilgamesh" taken to the logical extreme: every single servant is actually just Gilgamesh in a different costume. All of them. Even that one. He's running around at top speed frantically changing outfits so nobody notices.

PRILLYA

Luvia and Rin get married in Prillya, have a daughter and leave her in the care of Illya, Miyu and Kuro, What happens when they leave those three with a baby and the kaleidosticks?

FATE/EXTRA

Inspired by a (Literal) Fever Dream I had last night, Gawain prooves he's the strongest knight of the round by quite literally, somehow, cutting the number 2 in half. How does he do this? I dunno, what are the ramifications of slicing the concept of a number in half? Ill leave that for the writer to decide!

FGO

Smut, In the lead up to the last fight with Flauros, Jing Ke and Boudicca say words to the effect of “let’s get drinks after this.” Drunken, glad-to-be-“alive” sex surely ensued.

Smut, Selfcest. Medea Lily angrily tops her older self, who is infuriatingly calm about it.

i feel like mephistopheles and leonardo da vinci would make a sexy mechanical waifu doll out of bombs to prank blackbeard at least once. just some absolutely looney tunes shit.

Erice and Tamamo have some sister talk that ends with Erice trying to kill tama for talking shit about her mom

Smut, Castoria and Cnoc Na Riabh should kiss and make chocolate together. Actually they should kiss naked while covered in chocolate. Sweet doomed yuri

Barghest + Melusine + Baoban Sith + Mash = "WE ARE TAM★LIN AND WE ARE HERE TO ROCK YOUR LOSTWORLD!"

doman getting stuck high up (his final ascension) and naked. trying to come down is a huge risk and now he gotta find a way to get down without getting caught

so everyone who from the LB6 charade (plus Chaldea) have this reunion and stuff. it’s the perfect time for revenge, so morgan and baobhan sith team up to get the ULTIMATE revenge on aurora for her bullshittery. extra points if other characters join in on the revenge, and extra extra points if the revenge is performed by everyone aurora has screwed over

Oberon recognized Percival by his comically large breastplate. Now I need a fic of Oberon... accumulating this familiarity. By being mashed face-first into Percival's tits. Repeatedly.

Prior to Cosmos in the Lostbelt, Guda summons both Oberon and Douman. Being accomplished liars, they both pick up on each other pretty quickly but neither of them can actually say that the other one is lying and plotting something without incriminating themselves so they just have to be incredibly passive-aggressive about it. And then they hatefuck about it

Ritsuka can't look at Medea, Achilles, Jason, Maid Alter, or Emiya because Medea keeps dreaming about Maid Alter Kozkui (I spell that right) and Achilles triple teaming her, while Emiya and Jason watch.

Muramasa being a grumpy dad and forbidding Artoria from seeing Oberon. They aren't dating and never were but now Oberon pretends they were just to mess with him.

Oberon being a grumpy dad and forbidding Artoria from seeing Muramasa. The problem is that they aren't dating, Muramasa is just giving free sword lessons to anyone who wants in Chaldea. But hey, seeing Oberon dying of anger is way funnier :)

Caster Artoria being a grumpy dad and forbidding Oberon from seeing Muramasa. They are dating and they have a romeo and juliet type situation

Angra is running and hiding for his life because caren still wants to have his child and Rasputin is helping because he is totally down to having cursed demonic grandchildren. He must be caught in the end. (Can be anywhere from general to explicit, and a comedy to a horror)

Incest, Gudao and Gudako are siblings who work in Chaldea. However, they don't look much alike, so a surprisingly amount of people aren't aware of that (most of the servants, and whoever at the staff doesn't regularly read their files.) So I mean... if they were to have some sort of relationship here... romantic, sexual, or both... it'd be fine, right? Ideally I'm looking for either "they've been pining for years before going to Chaldea, and they know that's their one shot at being together away from society," or "the very idea was disgusting before, but now their sense of normalty is so fucked up AND they're the only two who can truly understand each other, so you gotta fuck your sibling to cope" scenario, but honestly feel free to tweak the concept as you wish. The only thing I ask is that you keep an emphasis on the taboo of incest. They know what they're doing is wrong and they're only doing it because the end of the world is the one place where they can get away with it.

Smut, multiple Nobu having fun together

Smut, edmond dantes/any, dream sex

GudaCas pet play, but due to trauma and/or magical shenanigans, Guda can’t stop the act and fully believes themselves to be an animal that belongs to Cas.

Smut, Ibuki douji tailfucking the shit out of shuten and guda

O dino Shiki I want to see you get railed Tepeu my love

Danzo sits Fuuma down to discuss something very important: she is dating Sei Shonagon and needs his approval before she asks her to move in. Fuuma reacts like accordingly

Smut, ritsuka fujimaru fucks chaldea itself. theyve been through so much together they deserve to get a bit of catharsis from each other. whether chaldea is humanized in anyway or they finagle to fuck the building directly is up to writer but the sex must be loving.

Smut, incest In a reversal of her PHH self, Morgan gives Herself a dick and rails Artoria until she's sure Artoria is pregnant. Whether it's noncon or not is up to the filler

Smut, Can we get Castoria's dick SUCKED for all the trauma she underwent in lb6? Preferably by the lb6 crew but also like, in general.

Draco locks Paris in a room and starts calling him Sporus, how this continues depends on the prompt filler

Smut, Someone tries to hit in Shuten and reveals he thinks of her as a "legal loli". Shuten decides the only way he can make up for that sleight is by serving as her and Ibaraki's personal fuckpuppet, too drunk on oni wine to fight back.

Smut, The masters have gone missing! Where can they be, all the staff and servants as they scour their base. Oh there they are! In that dingy supy closet no one else knows about. Fucking each others brains out.

I recently learned that Aesc is pronounced "Ash." With that in mind, for your consideration, "Aesc Ketchum."

I somehow just got around to doing Mata Hari’s interlude. In it, she says kings “ need comfort more than anyone in their nations.” And also “Now, tell mommy everything you know.” While holding a man’s head in her lap. There are so many kings in Chaldea it would be either hilarious, wholesome or heartbreaking or all three for her to mother into a weeping mess, sexually or not.

Li Shuwen, Chiron, and Scathatch are talking about their methods of teaching, and Li Shuwen slowly becomes more and more uncomfortable by how comfortable Chiron and Scathatch are with their students dying.

Despite Everything, Artoria never hated her sister, so when Morgan is summoned, so obviously tired, face masked like stone, Artoria does the first thing she can think of, and embraces her sister in understanding. And Morgan breaks. (because I need some catharsis.)

While at the throne at the temple of time guda does just a little thing while nobody is looking. When they go back to chaldea, the entire USA is physically gone

Servants form a union. No quests, no food at the cafeteria, no sex, nothing until work conditions improve(Limit on farming) Da Vinci is also on their side and disabled the command seals

Smut, Blowbang, Ruler Artoria in the middle, with every rough and tumble penis-having Servant (and also Astolfo) facefucking her in turns. She not only keeps her composure throughout, her mascara doesn’t even run; the only sign anything is happening to her at all is smeared lipstick.

A new Assassin just got summoned, and Medea is over the moon to see Kuzuki again. He…has no idea who this woman is, but is so accustomed to just going with the social flow that it takes a solid week before he’s fallen for her all over again…and has no idea if he should tell her he didn’t know her at first. Does he? I dunno.

FGO2

Where did that little crown come from in Artoria’s third ascension? For the purpose of this prompt, it’s a sincere peace offering from Medea…for actions this version of Saber didn’t remember until Medea tried to apologize for it. She winds up wearing it, but why? And how awkward is that conversation?

All of the Artorias suddenly get a wave of very pleasant memories from UBW Good End Saber; quantum Throne Bullshit, probably. Ishtar, Erehskigal, Emiya and Muramasa ought to fear for their pelvises.

Gudacas stuck in a closet together, preferably with a ton of sexual tension and at least one awkward boner rubbing on unfortunate places. Whether they actually fuck or not is up to you.

Guda cant help but constantly touch Morgans Dress, its not even a sexual thing, the material is just really nice and sensorily pleasing. So Morgan does the reasonable thing and gets them one of their own.

Castoria, absolutely sick and tired of the bullshit around here, tries to keep up the nice girl act. When gudako forced her to overwork again, Castoria absolutely loses it, and now people wonder if she’s a berserker pretending to be a caster for fun.

Smut, Bedivere gives sad Tristan passionate head in an attempt to cheer him up because they have other things they need to do for the roundtable already and he’s tired of listening to Tristan sigh and mutter obscurely under his breath

Gudao has the hots for Cu Chulainn. Scathach notices, and decides that he needs to be good enough for her student. Gudao is forced into Scathach bootcamp and tries to survive.

Smut, lb6 prompt where grimr wants to place a strengthening rune on muramasa. on his prostate.

Koyanskaya gets summoned to Chaldea, ready to tear things down from the inside. But they're... weirdly nice? Strengthening her skills, leveling her up, boosting her abilities, hey why are they pushing her towards the simulator hey why do Skadi and Castoria look so tired hey why did they say "welcome to hell" just before she was shoved through the simulator

I want Castoria and Morgan to talk and come to an understanding. Perhaps neither sides will ever forgive each other and perhaps neither side will ever love the other but. At the very least a catharsis has been reached and both can have their hearts be at ease.

Smut, Asterios is trying to be gentle when he and Euryale have sex. She’d tell him not to be…but he’s failing. Horribly, wonderfully failing at being gentle. If it ain’t broke, it ain’t her mind in about an hour.

I want to read a story about Saber defending Sakura from danger while Rider reacts like the victim in an NTR porno

Any

Character of your choice trying to bring up the idea that, maybe, they would like to do cnc as the dom in bed. They can fuck too if you want but mostly I want the focus to be "how the fuck do you tell your sexual partner you want to roleplay forcing sex upon them." You get extra bonus point if the character in question is one that isn't someone you would normally as a suave confident dom (Mash, Mandricardo, Castoria, you know the kind)

[doverstar]

Usually I'm not one to comment on fics I read but- you said you liked reading opinions, and I have many thoughts about it in my head right now |･･๑)

I discovered LAR from a fanart here on tumblr few days ago- I must say the idea of Rose and Eleven never crossed my mind before, and this fic opened that window in my head XD

I got to reading it then and have been reading it all through the few bits of free time I've had, past few days. I reached and finished chapter 11 yesterday, and god. I'm in love with all of it

I want to start by saying your characterization of all the characters is marvellous. Rose with Jackie and Pete at the mansion, Rory and Amy living in the apartment with Will. You make all of it feel very familiar and lovely, very domestic in their own flavour— and I love domestic. There's also the way the narrator voice plays along with that, with the characters and their own dynamics. It kept feeling like Jackie's very own characteristic voice pitch was there written in those words, or the way Amy's scot-ness fills the room, and also how Will's frequent awkwardness dripped through the sentences and pauses themselves. It felt like everything was a tad bit funnier whenever Rory was present, a feeling I also got from the show, and I am immeasurably happy to see that essence expressed so well again 🤲

Secondly. Will. You made him so easy to love I can almost miss him already— and I admittedly can't stop thinking about the people he knew in this universe that will miss him too :(. I seemingly fell in love with him very early on and ended up sympathising with him quite a bit. He is truly just a little bean, and I'm still not recovering from the confusion and pain he had to go through there in the last few chapters (amazingly written, made my heart crumble a lil.)

And then- the way it's empathised all of the carrying on Rose had to do since the Doctor left her here, all of the mental backflips she's been going through, and all of the carrying on she continues to do, even with Will, even with all of it. But, the way she looks at him now that she knows (it was worth it, perhaps), and how she realizes how much new information she's gonna have to take in of him— and vice versa. Honorary mention to his "Your hair is different. Is it longer?", because it still does make me smile xD

My friend has been listening to me ramble about this almost nonstop, our DMs are filled with screenshots and quotes (and keysmashes as frantic screaming from me, very frequently). Even I am surprised at the amount of things I've annotated and all the quotes I've written down. Seriously, it's delightful.

Thank you immensely for bringing this story to us 🤍

The way a slow smile just came right up on my face and kept getting bigger until my eyes hurt, reading this -

That fanart you're talking about is by @milkbanjo and everyone should follow that account and applaud all of @milkbanjo's art! Not just LAR-related pieces. Because it's so good and I love it and I will be watching for more. I'm so pleased you decided to Ask me and tell me all of this! I would encourage you to comment whenever you like something you're reading; it's such an inspiration and this made my day to read. I was going for a domestic feel without making it an intentionally-domestic fanfic, so I'm relieved you can feel the domesticity. I tried to give it the same sensation watching any scene on Earth in RTD's era (specifically scenes with Jackie Tyler herself in them) of the show gave me. There's something in all the low-budget, early-2000's of it that is really comforting to me. I wanted to try to put in the same comfort without making it that well-loved "oh and now they're cooking together and don't you feel cozy?" contrivance. (No shame in that, just not the point of my story! Didn't want to drown it in that warm milk. Too much warm milk makes me nauseous.) They're just people living lives, I wanted to show that in between the adventure scenes. Doctor Who really needs that sometimes! In my Nobody opinion.

I too think everything is funnier when Rory is in the room! I too find Amy the sort of personality to fill a space. And you just have no idea how much I loved writing for Will. I almost neglected the other characters in favor of the human version of the eleventh incarnation of that man. I have so much insane (new this year?) affection for Eleven. I hope it wasn't too obvious that I think he's the sweetest and want to hug him (I have actually met Matt Smith and got to hug him and let me tell you, he gives good hugs! but I admit Peter Capaldi's hug was even better-). Will is the second-closest I've gotten to hugging the eleventh. What a doll. I could go on about Eleven but I will cap the gushing by saying he is the Doctor every quiz has ever said I would get along with best and I scoffed at that till this past year, oh how time and age changes our taste buds - Your thoughts on Rose and her perspective in my fic and your enjoyment of the Doctor's "your hair is different" line makes me grin ever wider. You get it! *big sigh of relief* I love that you and your friend get to enjoy it like that! Would be interested to know which quotes you favor most, but this comment alone is more than enough for me to draw upon when in need of motivation; thank you for it! You are so welcome, and thank you for taking the time to read what I wrote and let me know what you thought. <3

[ilyasorokinn]

(day two) winner, winner, pumpkin dinner , dougie hamilton

note, this is part of my mini halloween series, so for the rest of the series, check out this masterlist. none of the fics in this series are connected, so they can be read as standalone. another note, don't know their partner's names and i don't care, so i'm making it up :) pair, dougie hamilton x reader summary, at the devil's annual halloween party, the host’s decide to have a couple's costume party, and the prize, for the winning couple, is loads of candy, a couple's massage, oh, and of course, pumpkins. warnings, nothing really word count, 789 words

(gif not mine)

"This is the worst costume ever," Dougie complained as you stood above him, fixing the ears on his head.

"No, it's not. I don't know what you're talking about." You shook your head, "This is genius, Douglas."

"But why can't you...?"

"We've already been over this. It's funnier this way. Plus, it would be too predictable if I dressed up like that." You explained.

"I don't like this."

"I know. You've explained why you don't like it already." You nodded.

"Next year, I get to pick the costumes." He stated.

"Deal. As long as I don't end up in some cheesy costume."

"Darn, there goes the peanut butter and jelly costume." He joked.

"Don't even joke about that." You shook your head.

He laughed, "Hurry, go change. We're gonna be late."

-

"Are my ears straight?" Dougie asked from the passenger seat. He was looking at himself through the mirror, making sure the ears on top of his head were straight.

"They're straight." You nodded as you turned the corner towards the host's house.

He looked over at you as you pulled into a parking spot, "You're missing something." He stated, then reached into the backseat and pulled out one of his hockey helmets.

He placed it on your head, laughing when it slid over your eyes because it was too big, "Perfect. Now you look like the perfect hockey player."

"And you look like the perfect little puck bunny." You laughed as you unbuckled yourself and headed for the house.

You knocked on the door, and waited, adjusting your 'Hamilton' jersey, "Stop fidgeting. You look fine." Dougie reassured.

"I know." You took a deep breath, "I just really want to win."

"Right, 'cause we need more pumpkins and candy." Dougie playfully rolled his eyes.

"We can never have too many pumpkins." You reminded him. The door opened and before you could even get a word in, an already very drunk Nate answered the door.

"Sorry, we're at full capacity." He slurred, then slammed the door shut. You and Dougie stood on the porch in shock, trying to understand what had just happened.

The door opened and instead of Nate, it was his girlfriend, Jordan. She smiled, "Sorry about him." She moved aside and let you both walk in and it was then that she finally got a good look at your costumes, and she burst out laughing, "Going for gold, I see." She commented.

"Go big or go home." You nodded, flashing a proud smile.

"Well, you guys've got my vote." She told you, "Nate and I were gonna do something, but it didn't work so we're not even matching." She laughed.

"See, she thinks it's good." You looked over at Dougie and he rolled his eyes as he followed you into the house's central area. When everyone else looked at your costume, they all whistled and catcalled Dougie playfully, who took it all in and spun around.

-

The whole night, you were just waiting for it to end because you knew at that end, that was when they were gonna announce the winners of the costume contest.

"Now, the moment we've all been waiting for..." Jordan announced, grabbing everyone's attention, "The costume contest!" Everyone cheered, even the singles.

"All right, since we aren't in the running, Lindsey and I counted the votes. In 3rd place, with 10 votes, Gravy and Caitlyn." Gravy and Cailyn were dressed up as the chefs from Ratitouui. They even had a little Remy inside Gravy's little chef hat.

They collected their prize of big candy baskets that Jordan most likely put together herself, "All right, in second place, with 15 votes, Jesper and Anna." They collected their prizes as you anxiously waited for first place to be announced.

"And in 1st place, with a whopping 23 votes, drum roll please..." Drumrolls could be heard from around the room, "With 23 votes, Dougie and Y/N!"

You looked over at Dougie, who was sitting across the room. You locked eyes and stood up, a little discombobulated by all the cheering as you made your way to collect your prizes.

"So, here's your candy baskets, and your gift card for the massage and your pumpkins were too big so they're in the garage."

"Too big?" Dougie blurted. She nodded and led you into their garage where 3 giant pumpkins sat. They were seriously so big, they probably weighed more than a small child.

"What are we gonna do with these pumpkins?"

"Well, for decorations." You explained.

"That's it? I hope that's not it."

"Well, I wasn't expecting pumpkins this big, but we can make soup or something."

"We'll have soup till 2030." He joked.

"I hope you like pumpkin soup." You patted him on the shoulder.

-

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add yourself to my taglist!

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[tnoy-keraxis]

4, 9, 13, 14, 23 for hatchetfield !

i fear question 4 but lets do this <3

4. Is there a popular pairing you don't necessarily dislike but aren't too invested in? ummm, yk, safe answer holy bastard/ted & mark, I don't have strong feelings on them, I do think they're fwb (not friends) but im not invested in them as a romantic relationship because I think they hate each other. Idk, i think they could both be in better relationships <3 but what happens in the bathroom of a drag bar, stays in the bathroom of a drag bar. 9. Write a recommendation of someone else's fic you enjoyed! See, all of your fics, especially hctwbss, its so fucking good and interesting and i love when people put these guys into like funky movie genres like zombie or slasher movies. Just, and the way you write enhances the emotion so well, when its light it makes it funnier, when its devastating IT TEARS MY HEART OUT. I just adore the way you write, and i just <3333. But that's enough of recommending your own fic to you as i have told you this 5 million times and I stand by it. im once again going to talk about "send a shock right through me" by Whump_Happens, it's so heartwarming but also soul shattering. Howard is my absolute favourite, he is just characterised so well even if he's there for five minutes, this fic means so much to me and i read it once a week, the author has written nothing else since but i hope they know that their fic had a lasting impression <3.

13. What's a character or ship you haven't written/drawn yet but would like to some day? I haven't written anything with any Howard ship. This is frankly a crime, I need to get better <3.

14. Is there a character or ship you were so sure you would never write/draw but now you've changed your mind? honestly, barnroe, i didn't think I would end up liking them so much, like I enjoyed them in passing but now i just want them to be happy just in highschool because then the problems start. also tedgens, who ive never properly written for yet but I will soon I swearrrr, i was always fairly neutral but post-apeman <3

23. Has your favourite character/ship changed over time? I hate changing my favourite things so much. I am locked in for life once I decide that shit. I haven't seen howard goodman in 5 years, but i am WAITING.

thank youuu these were such good questions i did lie about once of these but also no i didnt no one can prove anything

[scienceoftheidiot]

Oooooh what do you have for havoroyai? 👀 ot3! 💕

Oooooh my. Well this one is there for sure. It exists. Lol. All I have for this is... smut 😅

It's scenes that wouldn't fit in "The Tired General" for whatever reasons, mostly that I want the relationship to be established for a long time for that specific fic, and these scenes are about some of Havoc's first(s) with Royai 😅

I don't know what I'll be doing with them, honestly. Don't even know if I'll ever have the courage to post them, but eh, two years ago I would have saidd I didn't post smut at all. See where I am now.

It's just so fun to write 😁

Here's a small excerpt under the cut, which is one of the (very) few I have found that doesn't include words that'd be flagged or specific actions... still, read at your own risk (and if you're not a minor, thanks), it includes 3 naked people in the middle of something, after all. Havoc POV because it was funnier this way.

*runs away in shame* I hope you, uh, like it 😅🤣 Sorry.

The boss was laying in Riza's arms, her hands messing with his hair, caressing his chest. Riza had her eyes planted in Havoc's while she kissed and nibbled the colonel's neck — occasionally, said eyes would wander on Havoc's body with an appreciative shine, then come back up to his face, their deep brown inviting and warm, hot, even. Wanting.  He couldn't see much of her; her shoulders, a little above the boss's, her arms and hands, cradling him, cherishing him with such attention that Havoc felt a pang in his chest; her legs, on each side of the boss's hips, looking almost ready to curl around him, too. Her demeanor, her posture was an extension of her usual stance : at the same time loving and wanting, and fiercely protective.  It was a shame to be deprived of the sight of her lovely breasts, that Havoc knew were absolutely fantastic, small and perky and that had her make the most delightful noise when you touched — or licked — them right.  But what he had instead wasn't too bad either. Oh, no.  Mustang was almost sprawled on Riza, obviously enjoying all this petting with abandon, and yet managed to keep way more dignity and class than anyone, and especially not Havoc, would have in his place. It was both infuriating and incredibly hot.

[doks-aux]

I'm picturing both Ed and Stede being like 🧐😠😤😡 at Izzy and Sam, Ed because he doesn't like that Izzy's attention and adoration is on someone else (and maybe he has an old grudge with Sam) and Stede because he feels like Sam is stealing his whole Gentleman Pirate thing (even though people keep pointing out to him that Sam was doing it first, which does NOT go over well, they're completely different in that Stede is doing it RIGHT), and if Izzy's into that why wasn't he into Stede?!? Ed agrees, it's VERY rude that Izzy wasn't into Stede and he has half a mind to tell him so but Lucius is like oh my god STOP.

So Ed and Stede spend all their time creeping around eavesdropping and spying and bitching to each other (like Stede spying on Jack and Ed) and discussing What Must Be Done About This and planning a fuckery to Get Izzy Back and they don't even notice that Izzy and Sam just, like, went off to get (re)married.

I would pay to be able to read a fic like this, I really would. I've only run into a couple of fics where Izzy moves onto a new love interest and Ed actually has to deal with that rather than somehow winning him back. (Granted, this is probably because outside the SteddyHands circle of ships, I only read Izzy/OC and Izzy/Other Historical or Famous Fictional Pirate. Maybe it happens a lot in Izzy/Actual Character in the Show fics.) The concept of a fic where it seems like a textbook SteddyHands set-up, only for Izzy to choose the third option and especially for it to be Sam is fucking delectable. And infinite bonus points for Lucius at his wit's end because if Ed and Stede had arrived at whatever-this-is MONTHS AGO maybe things would have gone a lot smoother. But as it is he's team Izzy/Not This Bullshit now and playing look-out while they take a dinghy to elope or whatever. And Ed and Stede being so caught up in their own drama together even when it's nominally focused on someone else that they don't actually notice what's happening with that someone is perfectly on-brand.

God, there are so many good possibilities for how Stede and Sam might interact. I feel like Sam's a nice guy who'd be all "Same hat!" at Stede, especially post-character development Stede who's given up all his inherited wealth and is gaining his new riches in the proper pirate-y and looking good doing it. Which just makes it funnier if Stede gets all snitty about it. God forbid anyone stresses that Sam is called the Prince of Pirates, therefore outranking the Gentleman Pirate at least by technical definition. And there's historical precedent for an Ed-Sam grudge with irl Sam mutinying against Hornigold and being voted captain while Ed stayed loyal to the old man. And I wouldn't want Sam to be the wholly innocent party here either. Like, I can see him sincerely trying to get along and be a gentleman at first, but when he's getting passive aggression and Kraken death glares for his troubles, he decides it's no fun to be the bigger man. He should get to be a bitch, too. It's also funnier if Izzy is the most mature person in all of this after Lucius.

What's funny is that in my personal AU, Sam and Stede got started on the whole romance novel cover pirate thing about the same time. Sam's been sailing and ship-hopping and treasure-hunting his whole life, but there was a huge gap in his piracy career between Hornigold's cabin boy and the Robin Hood of the seas. This is so I can have him be as historically inaccurately middle-aged as the others while keeping his whirlwind success when he does seriously try his hand at piracy while still having it be plausible that his old friends don't even know he's still alive. He and Stede get along well enough that Stede's all giddy about Izzy being smitten with him. Ed is... getting better at the whole "Izzy is allowed to have other friends" thing, but this is a potential boyfriend and it's Sam who Ed's been butting heads with since puberty, so he doesn't take it as gracefully as Stede when it's pointed out to him. And Sam is trying to play nice with Ed because he's got a lot to answer for for letting everyone think he was dead, but like. He is eventually going to ask why Izzy is missing a toe and eventually someone is going to give him the honest answer.

I want everyone to have a nice happy ending, but I want them to yell and cry a whole lot on the way there.

[hopetorun]

time after time for home by now! maybe say...3 years on? what are matthew and leon up to? how are brady and quinn doing?

i'm always so interested in hearing more about that fic and its universe (i'm the person doing the line by line re-read commentary :)) life's gotten very busy since i started but hopefully i'll be able to get back to it soon!)

okay well first of all you're an angel! i hope you get some free time back soon but i deeply understand that life gets busy sometimes ❤

anyway three years on from home by now! that's the beginning of the 2029-30 nhl season, which sounds extremely made up. the blues have been drifting somewhere in the muddy middle for a few years -- it's fun for my made-up story, but giving up tons of assets and cap space for a couple of guys in their late 20s/early 30s isn't actually ideal asset management in a hard cap league. but they've got too many good players to be horrible, and they're scraping into the playoffs most years. no cups, though, and both matthew and leon are looking at the remainders of their contracts and -- wondering. leon especially.

he'll be 36 when his current deal is up, and he does want to win. and he doesn't know if that's going to happen with the blues. it's not an easy conversation to have, though. does leon want to ask for a trade in his final year? before that? does he want a real shot at a cup more than he wants to keep waking up next to matthew every morning? there's no right answers.

matthew feels clingy and petulant about the idea of being left, but he also wants to win. he hasn't quite given up on the idea of winning in st louis with leon, the childhood fantasy of it all. they still both have four years left on their contracts! leon's aging pretty well, without too many injuries grinding him down yet, he could sign a short deal after!

so they're muddling through all that, and it's not the first thing they've fought about but it's definitely the fight that's lasted the longest. and matthew's touchy about it, because st louis is his in a way that it isn't for leon. but they're pretty good at this stuff by now. they're not gonna break up about it. leon would prefer it if keith had input on fewer parts of his life, but he's not going to begrudge matthew being close to his family, he's just going to gripe a little privately, and sometimes tell keith to fuck off. (keith takes this with aplomb, since it's not like matthew doesn't tell him to fuck off. the rest of the family thinks it's hilarious.)

in the intervening three years, quinn gets himself over to the eastern conference. pick your poison here, maybe he signs as a free agent, maybe he tells the canucks he won't sign an extension and gets traded. his whole family's there, brady's there, so on and so forth. not detroit -- he and brady have an agreement that neither of them will go to the places their families live unless it's both of them, because they're not going to start building that life unless it's together -- but maybe toronto or montreal? toronto would be funnier for me but montreal is closer to ottawa. either way, much closer to brady! they see each other so much more, even if it's sometimes stressful when they're in a playoff race or something. they've dodged any actual series against each other, at least. not that they couldn't handle it, but they'd both rather not.

something that was surprisingly hard for brady was getting to watch matthew just trip sideways into a stage of life that's basically on hold for brady until at least one of him and quinn retires. matthew fucked around and instead of finding out he got a hot boyfriend on his team that he gets to see every day and have over for family dinners and live with. he's happy for matthew, but the first time matthew complains about how hard they have to work to get space ... brady does not handle it as gracefully as would be ideal.

but overall everyone's doing pretty good, y'know? no one's winning it all~~ but they're aiming their lives in the ways they want. taryn has a new boyfriend that everyone would be very happy if she married. matthew and leon got a second dog, who is somehow even more teddy bear shaped. they mostly don't bother to pretend they aren't together, but at least half the guys on the team think they're just really close friends because sports are Like That. brady thinks it's hilarious when people ask him about it like, did you think your brother would end up such good friends with draisaitl after all that rivalry? and he's just like, friends, sure, yeah. love and hate are two sides of the same coin or whatever.

[lonely--seeker]

I know this is kind of late but I'm making a list of all the things/projects I'd like to work on this year and their level of difficulty.

Y'all can peep on this because I have no other place to post it. And I hope I get a tasty social-pressure boost lol.

• Finish some multichaptered fanfics.

1) Top priority. "Something good in all seeming failures" (<-Should be medium to hard. I'm not sure how many chapters this one will take and I feel it needs a good level of writting, I don't want to half ass it)

2) "Like cats and dogs" (<- Medium. Not too interested in finishing unless I have a good wrapping for it)

3) "The day the pirates came to town" (<- Unlikely. But I still don't wanna give up on the idea of a choose your adventure kind of One Piece fanfic. But I think I should re do the whole thing.)

•Write/Post Fanfics.

These don't have names yet, bear with it.

1) Finish writing that Truth or dare Serirei fanfic. (<- Likelyyy! 1,4K words already on it boss 🫡. But get my ass to write it, AUGH!! I have brainworms. Yk what would maybe be a good name for this? Dared to truth or something like that am I right? No? No? Okay.)

2)The birthdaytm Fanfic (<-Less likely. Already started, besides I could write this one in a fucked up night.)

3)Oh also the teddy bear fanfic. (<-Least priority right now)

4) I should just write more fanfics. At least. LEAST 3 more. Idk.

5) pick up all the fanfics I have scrambled

And he hates it (Reigen. 800.)

The mom fic. (1.7K)

Like like like (Serizawa / To be fair I forgot abt this one. I'm dying to read it again. 1K)

You are the only reason (was this Sanji? Was this zosan? I forgot/ 5... 5K words of the best things ever written, too bad they're not in a way it'll ever make sense )

This is a bad Idea (EkuSeriRei?? In my Google docs?? 1.2K)

How... Do we start a story like this? (Not even started lmao.)

• Finally finish some Animation memes.

1) Coffee! (<- Hard. Not even finished sketching but I should be okay I'm a grown up.)

2)Wheat (<- Medium. It's considerably shorter I think? Besides it's funnier to work on.)

3) Private Life (<- Probably easy. It's a full song BUT I don't plan on making it special.)

4)Honey Pie (<- Unlikely. But I've been wanting to work on this forever.)

•Animatics.

I'm not even going into details for these ones.

1)El hijo de Hernández/Sanji (<-Hard.)

2)Lo malo de ser bueno/Serizawa. (<- Medium)

3)Sea of dreams/Sanji (Unlikely)

•I don't know what to name these.

1) Start working on some scrips for the Runaway kids/ The liminal space.

2) Redesing the whole cast for Spacing out. (Actually Majö is perfect) (<- This should be easy)

3) Complete the Music sonas designs/ Bunnycat's alternative designs.

4)Holy shit. I should make references for Art fight!

5) I dunno. Keep Paws and Such Petting Office active.

[suzie-shooter]

✅🤡✨🏆❌😈💔🤗🧠 for alex rider!! (milking it for all it’s worth :bun_runs:)

lmfao

✅ What's something that appears in your fics over and over and over again, even if you don't mean to? Ooh I don’t know. People get drunk quite often? 🍾

🤡What's a line, scene, or exchange you've written that made you laugh Oh I am fond of a terrible pun, which makes writing Alex a lot of fun (or occasionally sliding them in for Yassen makes it even funnier) and also snarky dialogue. Can’t think of any exchanges offhand, but My Bloody Valentine is a fic that still makes me laugh as a whole.

✨Give you and your writing a compliment. Go on now. You know you deserve it. Gah. Idk, I think it’s quite good? I generally enjoy re-reading most of them, anyway.

🏆What's your most popular fic? Uncharted Shores (One Direction get stranded on a desert island and bang in pretty much every combination. I mean, there was plot and drama and angst and stuff as well...) Remains the only thing I’ve written over 100k. Currently on 1587 kudos.

(Most popular fic for AR is Honey Trap on 1073 kudos)

❌What's a trope you will never write? A/B/O

😈 Has there been a point in a story where you did something just to be playfully mean to your readers? Oh I love me a cliffhanger! If I’m posting this puppy in instalments you can be sure I’m going to leave you hanging 😂. In terms of actual plot I can’t remember what it was but I definitely added something to Between A Rock And A Hard Place to fuck with @afewbulbsshortofatanningbed in response to a comment she’d left 😆

💔 Is there a fic of yours that broke your heart? I tend not to write unresolved angst, weirdly the most heartbreaking fic I wrote started out with the intention of being a comedy. It was a Top Gear vampire fic – hey, Jeremy wakes up in a coffin as a vampire, that’s funny right? But – that means he’s died somehow. And the others are going to be legitimately upset. And then he falls in love with James who refuses to be turned so they live out his life together then after his funeral Jeremy deliberately lets the sun take him. Fun huh? Never writing death fic again.

🤗 What advice would you give to new fanfic writers that are just getting started? Write what you want to read, not what you think people like/want/approve of.

🧠 (Alex Rider) Pick a character, and I'll tell you my favourite headcanon for them. These headcanon questions are difficult tbh, because I am quite willing to go with whatever fits with the story/prompt/whatever rather than a fixed idea of ‘this person is x’. I guess for Alex it would be his capacity to be just as deadly as Yassen (his canon body count is let’s face it hilarious and he shows zero remorse).