#just a little ficlet as warmup writing

[strangersteddierthings]

"Look, Steve, I don't have any bad feelings towards you," Eddie says, has been saying, talking nonsense, like he and Steve weren't anything more than fuckbuddies, like he isn't breaking Steve's heart. "I used you too, y'know?"

It's then Steve rears back like he been slapped. Or punched. It feels more like a gutting. Joke's on him, he supposes. Once again, he wants more than the other person. He wanted a boyfriend, Eddie'd wanted sex. Why does he keep trying? When Steve finds his voice to speak, it comes out flat and dead and not really like a question at all. "Used me. Like you think I've used you?"

Eddie shrugs, looking for all the world like he's not bothered by that statement. "We had fun, right? So it's all fine in the end."

"Fine," Steve repeats, hollow. They're in his house but Steve feels the need to leave, to run before the reality of how unlovable he truly is sticks inside him forever.

"But I think we should stop while we're ahead," Eddie continues and Steve wonders if Eddie is listening to him at all, or just saying his piece before he goes. Can he not hear Steve's heart breaking? "I want to... I want to find someone to love."

If Eddie's previous words felt like being gutted, these ones feel like cement. Heavy and solidifying. Trapping in the truth of Ever Unlovable Steve. He doesn't even feel heartbroken anymore. Just numb. Dead inside. He should say something encouraging. Let Eddie know that all he's wanted was for Eddie to be happy and loved. But words seem impossible, so he gives one jerky nod of his head. An understanding.

"Right," Eddie says, returning the nod before turning away, towards the door, "I'll just go now. Umm, see ya later, Harrington."

Facing the horrors of the Upside Down should feel like the scariest thing he's ever done but it doesn't. Watching Eddie walk away does. Steve should be able to hold it together long enough for Eddie to leave. He's the tough one. He can hold himself together no problem-

"Why can't you love me?"

Eddie whips back around, an expression on his face like confusion and anger mixed.

It's only then that Steve realizes he spoke. He hasn't meant to. He was going to let Eddie walk away but now his voice has been freed from the cement. His heart has shut down his brain it seems because he just keeps talking, voice flat and hollow, "why can't you love me the way I love you? What is so broken and wrong within me that no one loves me back? My parents, Nancy, now you. Why can't- I thought that we were- where did I go wrong?"

"What?" Eddie asks, and the anger is gone from his face but now he just looks horrified. Which is understandable. It's horrifying to be loved by Steve Harrington. "What did you think we were?"

Boyfriends. Together. Going steady. At the very least, dating without labels. But none of those very reasonable, normal answers come out of Steve's treacherous mouth. Because Steve can't seem to be a reasonable, normal person. He's got to be too much, too soon, too clingy. So, instead, he says, "In love."

Eddie looks like he's just received the worst news of his life. In fact, he looks a little sick. "Oh fuck. Jesus Christ. I can't- I thought- Fuck!"

Steve just nods along. He hadn't actually said I love you to Nancy that night at Tina's Halloween party, but he imagines if he had, the beginning of the bullshit conversation would have sounded much the same as Eddie does now; like anger and regret, the starts and stops. "I'm sorry. I shouldn't have- if you want to go, you should go."

Eddie crosses the room back to Steve in half the steps he took when he first walked away, hands reaching to grab Steve's face between them. He speaks quickly and sounds panicked now. "No, no no no. I fucked up, misunderstood. I don't know how I got it so wrong. I don't want to go. I never did."

"What?"

"I am in love with you, sweetheart. I just- I didn't know you loved me back. I thought you didn't- that we weren't..."

"I thought we were boyfriends."

"Jesus, please let me fix this. Let me stay and make it up to you. I'll be the best fucking boyfriend you've ever had."

Steve thinks if he had any shred of self-worth he might step back, make Eddie explain himself, but as it is, he steps into Eddie's space and kisses him, hands pulling him as close as he can get. He doesn't want to think about the cruel things Eddie's said, about using each other. Maybe one day they'll have to hash that out, have that conversation, but Eddie says he loves him too, and that's all Steve's wanted.

[jaynovz]

Expanded Info for Black Sails Kink Meme 2024

Hi there!

Since there has been a sufficient amount of interest for this idea, let me explain a little further how I think this will work and general guidelines–

I’m encouraging as informal and low stress/pressure of an atmosphere as possible here. Back in The Day when LiveJournal Kink Memes were common, it was very typical to see a prompt put up and filled within an hour. It doesn’t have to be polished, it doesn’t have to make logistical sense, it just has to fill the prompt as best as you can, sexily! It’s supposed to be fun. A bunch of fun, raunchy kink and smut to roll around in as a fandom. 🥳 🥳

So yeah, first thing to expect, it’s basically ALL PWP (porn without plot). Not to say that someone can’t write a full plot epic if they like, do whatever you like, but in my experience, a 4am fugue state smut fill written in a sweaty haze is kind of, the spirit of the thing. We’re creating ficlets, snapshots, tasty treats of smut with as little pressure to make it in any way polished as possible. Please think of this as, hmmm, a little fun writing exercise you do before you go back to your Big Serious Work, if that helps. We are letting loose, we are having fun, we are being deliciously, joyously, unrepentantly filthy with it! The tagline for the event is: “Get High, Jerk Off Three Times, and Write Me a Warmup :DD”

A prompt might say, for example– “MaxAnne, s2, would love to see the girls get slippery wet with some period sex, bonus if one or both eats the other out while she’s menstruating.” 

Pretty standard stuff, nothing that off the wall from my perspective, however, some folks might feel shy about asking for it for whatever reasons and so the anonymous format frees ppl up to ask for anything from: “Midshipman James McGraw getting caned in pre-canon by his superiors” to, idk, “full tentacle-y type oviposition porn where someone is being forced to come over and over again while being implanted with eggs by some giant plant beast on Skeleton Island (probably Silver).”

Literally ask for whatever smut you want~~ This is your chance, toss it into the pot! It will be tagged accordingly when posted if it’s filled, so live your truth, chase your bliss, know no shame, no one can see you~~

It is helpful when submitting a prompt to give details that are important to you, and the prompt filler will do their best with it. <3 So, I suggest giving a ship specification up front, maybe a vague timeline (season 1, season 2, etc), and then the kinks you want to see with a short description. Sort of like the MaxAnne period sex I gave an example of above.

Logistics and Structure of Submissions–

I have created a sideblog called @blacksailskmeme through which, once submissions are live (it will be open to accept prompts hopefully in March 2024), you may submit ANON ASK PROMPTS. I will publish them with a number and a link to the collection. If you like one of the prompts, simply post it through the collection with its corresponding number and then that AO3 link to your fill will be reblogged underneath the original ask prompt.

Simple as that! 

Follow the Event Blog, or the tag #2024BSKMemeFills in order to keep tabs on when prompts are filled. 

This makes it very easy for me and yall both, as there is no claiming process to trouble ourselves with. As many fills as are written are allowed for each prompt, simply write whatever speaks to you and I’ll be able to track the fills by the notifs on the collection. :DD

As of now, I’m planning to open prompts in March 2024 and keep the collection and blog running for prompts and fills both up through the end of Summer 2024. To respect the spirit of the event, all fills and prompts MUST be anonymous. Edit for clarification: The entire collection is marked Anonymous, which means any work submitted to it will be posted Anon. There is no option you need to worry about checking to guarantee this. I apologize for the initial confusing language, I have been learning as I go.

It still stands that if, after the event is closed, you want to then de-anon your work, that is your prerogative. However, it will mean you must remove the work from the collection, as the collection itself will forever and always remain anonymous.

Rules–

–This is an 18 plus event, please, as all of the content will be Explicit. 

–It is also a Black Sails Only Event, please no crossover prompts or fills. However, AU of all types are encouraged with our favorite pirates.

–All ships, all kinks, are welcome for submission, and the fill will then be tagged appropriately. If you have any questions on how to tag something, or just want another pair of eyes to confirm, you can always DM me <3

–Fills must be 500 words minimum of fic. There is no maximum and the fill is allowed to be WIP if you intend to write more chapters later. I would encourage that the content of the prompt be IN the first chapter at least before submission to the collection.

–We’re Gonna Be Nice and Civil!! No ship bashing, no kink shaming, we’re all mature adults here. If you don’t like something, then don’t fill it, don’t reblog it, don’t read it, pretend you do not see it. If you don’t like it, it’s not for you! 

If I haven’t covered everything here, or if you’re unsure about something, feel free to reach out to me either through the event blog or through @jaynovz <3 Also, if you’d like to help me out with the event, hit me up as well.

Thank you!

[brisquad-unit-4402]

iluna and details

whenever i see anime characters i'm always fascinated by if they were more realistic, or more detailed, you know, the little elements of people that animation studios just don't have the budget nor time nor medium to depict. so this ficlet is a love letter to all the beautiful parts of people that can't really be captured until you're living in their lovely presence!

this wasn't originally an iluna post. it was actually for all of the nijien boys, you see, i worked on it as a warmup before my bigger projects, and a place for me to practice shorter fic. but i was so charmed by the concept and how fun these were to write that i wanted the girls in on this too...! i'll slowly work on the other units as time goes on and i work on more projects

tags: established relationship, fluff, gender neutral reader

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

🤟 Kyo Kaneko

He calls himself an asshole and you'd be the first to agree. He's comfortable enough with you to poke fun at you, and when you tease back it's a game you both play to win. He's yours, after all, and it rolls off him like water off a duck's back, because he knows when to back off or go all in. His energy shines moonlight into the pitch dark. No matter what, he always has something to say that makes the night seem so much less bleak.

But the moon needs to sink to calm, and he stays late into the night with drive fierce enough to silence himself. He sits at his desk. Candy blue hair is swept back in a headband, but the dyed locks curl out in front of his face as he writes.

He is so determined, and the stars against his back wish they had his grit. The pencil wavers, bounces, swings this way and that as he thinks. The eraser presses the skin underneath his lip before the answer comes to him.

For all the resolve in his apple-green eyes are, the lids can barely sustain it. There are too many thoughts for one body to hold. The night creeps longer and his eyelashes flutter closed.

You see what the moon sees in him, this supercharged soul, the light that shines off his wit, the quiet resilience to keep going. Traces of moonbeam cross along his soft skin, the hoodie over his shoulders, hair the color of the sky. The patterns of lights follow as you carry him to bed.

.　 . • ☆ . ° .• °:. *₊ ° . ☆

🐰 Maria Marionette

She lives in long sleeves. Your jacket suits her like a charm, even though it's much too big for her little body. Especially because it's too big for her body. It's so rare to see her without long socks that stretch far above the hem of her skirt.

Her knit socks brush against your legs as she sits. The movie has long been forgotten by you in favor of admiring her delicacy. She fits so perfectly in your lap, a stand to a centerpiece, a matching set, do not separate.

When she recognizes the look in your eye she curls closer to you, and when she can't get enough she musters up the courage to slip off her jacket.

Along the bends of her arms and the links upon her fingers you see everything she is so scared of. Sweeping lines stretch across her skin, pale and geometric, and perfectly wrapped around the diameter. They're symmetrical. Ball joints. Articulation imprinted in scars, the only sign flesh was once porcelain.

She is so gorgeous in her vulnerability. She is so gorgeous in her everything, her body and soul, no matter the form. You press your lips along the white scarring between her knuckles.

.　 . • ☆ . ° .• °:. *₊ ° . ☆

💫 Aster Arcadia

He has to be one of the most intricate pieces of art in the world. There’s no other explanation. His makeup never fades even as his eyes crinkle when he smiles, and when he presses his lips together right before laughing out loud.

And sometimes you can’t even tell when it’s grooming or just how harmonious he was formed. His makeup never fades, but his air sparkles, thousands of strokes of gas and space dust and matter swirling around his body, the edge of a nebula, the collections of what makes solar systems burst and catch fire.

There is electricity when he moves. The earth bends around him. Not a hair is out of place even in moments when just touching him is like placing your hands against a plasma ball.

He is so beautiful and so unfathomable and so innately himself.

He shivers when you press against sensitivities but you doubt he could ever understand the coursing under your veins, the push and pull of gravity, the molten core. The effect he has on you.

.　 . • ☆ . ° .• °:. *₊ ° . ☆

👼 Aia Amare

No matter what she does, she is feather-light. Her steps are easy to miss, so she sneaks up on you without even trying, and when you jump in surprise she titters in musical tones. When she reaches out to touch you, she is your pedestal. Her hands are strong but gentle, the mark of an artist, and the briefest skim against your skin leaves impressions like you are nothing but soft clay.

She is feather, and coated in downy white, and songbird and stars in the clouds. Her heavens soften her. If you didn't know a thing about her, you'd imagine her so fragile that she could float away with a breath.

But for as light as she is, she is intense. Waves roar in time with her noise. There is so much spirit and so much energy within her. The brightness turns blinding, but only when she wants it to.

She slips off the glasses, and you are reminded of the bristles that make up a feather. The lenses mute the color, but without them, cool mint freezes over so strongly that her gaze burns. Pale lashes fame the searing ocean. Slighter than a suggestion, but so prominent you know there is nothing earthly like her, you see the motion of curling rings hidden inside the green and blue. A sprinkling of gold between the rods. The glisten rotates in wheels. Eyes upon eyes upon eyes within eyes. Feather.

She places them back over her eyes, and her artisan hands motion around your body while you're struck with something unknowable. Her league is dimensions away from yours. You're blessed.

.　 . • ☆ . ° .• °:. *₊ ° . ☆

🛸 Ren Zotto

You could never mistake him for a simple human. There's too much under his surface even when he tries, but he never does try. The horns upon his head protrude too high to fall under a lowered head.

In bright light, if you can focus, you’d think the green in his veins turns blazing. Focus harder and you realize it runs along the skin itself with the suggestion of a shining, scaled teal, before it disappears entirely.

You swear there's more teal in his hair that isn't swallowed by dark. It's soft and fine as you brush your fingers over him, and you can barely even see the undertone.

"It's not really black," he says. "Human eyes just perceive it as black because they don't have the anatomy for it."

The word- his color- is unpronounceable to human tongues. It requires a trill between fangs you don't have.

But you try anyways, and as it turns into a spit of nothing he laughs with you. You press a kiss to his unpronounceable hair. When his smile relaxes his fang catches on his lip.

.　 . • ☆ . ° .• °:. *₊ ° . ☆

💅 Scarle Yonaguni

She is made entirely from her own creation. Love and care finds a home within her body, and stumbles around clumsily and spreads out through peals of laughter. There is nothing quite like her because she is everything around her; she is ember and she is ash, as much as she is ideal and reality, as much as she is exuberance and moderation. To chase and to heal. Architect of her own path, with so many miracles stored in her fingertips, all of them within simple delights.

Warmth trails through all she touches. The folds in her books, the keyboard turning shiny from use, crosses along the T's and dots above the I's. The way she holds you so tightly as if you were the only source of heat, even though she exudes fire all her own.

Cocoa and cinnamon follow her, a champurrado musk, and you can't place where the spicy scent comes from. It lingers in her hair and along her skin, those miracle fingertips that spend so much love and care of what she enchants, and you are no exception. When she runs her nails along your jawline the smooth blend puts you at ease.

All her cinder catches in your throat. Her touch is hypnosis. It's familiar, and home, and comfort. It's adventure and joy and discovery. You can't get her scent out of your mind, and when it finally grants you peace, the chocolate has already marked you endeared.

[blacksailskmeme]

Hi there piratefam!

Happy Black Sails Netflix day! 🥳 🏴‍☠️🥳

A quick reminder that we have a little Black Sails Kink Meme running right now (live up til the end of Summer 2024!) The link above is to the event collection of fills and below I'm posting some more info about how to participate if you haven't yet heard about it! :D <3

--

Premise--

I’m encouraging as informal and low stress/pressure of an atmosphere as possible here. Back in The Day when LiveJournal Kink Memes were common, it was very typical to see a prompt put up and filled within an hour. It doesn’t have to be polished, it doesn’t have to make logistical sense, it just has to fill the prompt as best as you can, sexily! It’s supposed to be fun. A bunch of fun, raunchy kink and smut to roll around in as a fandom. 🥳 🥳

So yeah, first thing to expect, it’s basically ALL PWP (porn without plot). Not to say that someone can’t write a full plot epic if they like, do whatever you like, but in my experience, a 4am fugue state smut fill written in a sweaty haze is kind of, the spirit of the thing. We’re creating ficlets, snapshots, tasty treats of smut with as little pressure to make it in any way polished as possible. Please think of this as, hmmm, a little fun writing exercise you do before you go back to your Big Serious Work, if that helps. We are letting loose, we are having fun, we are being deliciously, joyously, unrepentantly filthy with it! The tagline for the event is: “Get High, Jerk Off Three Times, and Write Me a Warmup :DD”

Literally ask for whatever smut you want~~ This is your chance, toss it into the pot! It will be tagged accordingly when posted if it’s filled, so live your truth, chase your bliss, know no shame, no one can see you~~

--

Rules--

–This is an 18 plus event, please, as all of the content will be Explicit. 

–It is also a Black Sails Only Event, please no crossover prompts or fills. However, AU of all types are encouraged with our favorite pirates.

–All ships, all kinks, are welcome for submission, and the fill will then be tagged appropriately. If you have any questions on how to tag something, or just want another pair of eyes to confirm, you can always DM me <3

–Fills must be 500 words minimum of fic. There is no maximum and the fill is allowed to be WIP if you intend to write more chapters later. I would encourage that the content of the prompt be IN the first chapter at least before submission to the collection.

–We’re Gonna Be Nice and Civil!! No ship bashing, no kink shaming, we’re all mature adults here. If you don’t like something, then don’t fill it, don’t reblog it, don’t read it, pretend you do not see it. If you don’t like it, it’s not for you! 

--

Logistics--

For prompts-- you may submit ANON ASK PROMPTS to this blog. I will publish them with a number and a link to the collection. If you like one of the prompts, simply post it through the collection with its corresponding number and then that AO3 link to your fill will be reblogged underneath the original ask prompt. It is helpful when submitting a prompt to give details that are important to you, and the prompt filler will do their best with it. <3 So, I suggest giving a ship specification up front, maybe a vague timeline (season 1, season 2, etc), and then the kinks you want to see with a short description.

For fills-- There is NO CLAIMING PROCESS NECESSARY! If you see a prompt that strikes your fancy, you are IMMEDIATLEY encouraged and free to fill it, there is NO LIMIT ON FILLS for each prompt!

Both prompt submissions and fills will be open simultaneously through the entire span of the event.

The entire collection is marked Anonymous, which means any work submitted to it will be posted Anon. There is no option you need to worry about checking to guarantee this.

After the event is closed, if you want to then de-anon your work, that is your prerogative. However, it will mean you must remove the work from the collection, as the collection itself will forever and always remain anonymous.

As more prompts come in, I will continue to assign them numbers and post them using the tag #2024BSKMemePrompts. As they come in, fills will be reblogged under their prompt using the tag #2024BSKMemeFills.

(PS: If you submit your fill and do not see it immediately, please remember it’s just me handling the organization and I might be asleep. But rest assured just as SOON as I get the notification on the collection I will publish it on Tumblr.)

Information regarding posting to AO3 collections can be found here. The expanded guidelines and rules for fills can be found here.

If you are unsure of something, tags, anything at all, or if you have questions I haven't covered here: please do not hesitate to reach out to me either through the event blog or my main @jaynovz. I will respond to questions as soon as I’m able :DD

GOOD LUCK EVERYONE, HAVE FUN IN THE SPLASH ZONE OF SMUT AND KINK~~ 🎉🎉

[optiwashere]

I've finally finished up the Headcanuary 2024 fics.

Rating: Varies by ficlet with each ficlet/chapter rated in the title

Category: F/F

Ship: Shadowheart/Trans Fem Tav

Hopefully y'all have enjoyed the daily doses of fluff, smut, angst, hurt/comfort... you name it, really. These have been really fun for me as a sorta writing warmup every day in the morning. Which reminds me to say: inspiration is overrated. Discipline and rigor are the real method to writing constantly and consistently.

For the curious, which includes me, I've done a little breakdown of the ratings of each ficlet. Because IDK. Why not?

11/31 are Rated G with the majority of those being fluff or humorous type fics, with an outlier in Day 7 which is more of a weird Selûne & Shar spat fic lol.

8/31 are Rated T with these being mostly introspective angst and hurt/comfort, but there's a couple sweet and wholesome fics in here too.

5/31 are Rated M as the lowest rating by count, and these are mostly rated that way because they're violent. Except for Day 28. That one is about PTSD and I think trying to handle that with anything other than the Mature gloves is a bad idea.

7/31 are Rated E and these are all smut. I would say it's an even split on who's the "focus" of each of these fics, with a slight edge given to Shadowheart just because of uneven numbers.

[wild-karrde]

For your ask game/ ficlet warmups…

“You’re my brother. It’s always been you and me against the galaxy and nothing is going to change that.” Of course I have to ask for Echo and Fives, but you do you! I always love to see what you come up with!

Alright, alright, SO this got a little sad and a little angsty, but I think I like it. THANK YOU for the ask!

Rating: T (mentions of death, mourning, grief). Also includes Reunion spoilers because I am a jerk that loves to keep writing things in her own fic universe.

Send me an ask with a character + one line of dialogue, and I'll write a ficlet!

Echo sat on his bunk in the Yavin barracks, his back to the wall as his legs dangled over the edge. He’d stopped reading the report on his datapad several minutes ago and was now just watching the figure hunched over across from him. His twin sat on the opposite bunk, screwdriver in hand as he carefully dismantled the blaster he’d been using, muttering under his breath as he worked to identify what was making his trigger a little sticky. 

This had become a habit for Echo ever since Fives had been rescued. He’d long ago mourned his twin, thinking he’d never see him or laugh with him again, but now here he sat, almost exactly the same as he had been before Echo had been lost at the Citadel. It was as if nothing had changed. But everything had. 

“Take a holo. It’ll last longer.” 

Echo blinked rapidly, meeting Fives’s eyes. His brother had an eyebrow cocked at him. 

“You do that a lot, you know?”

“What?” Echo asked.

“Stare. It’s like you’re afraid if you blink, I’ll disappear.” 

Fives landed uncomfortably close to home with that observation, and it increased Echo’s discomfort. His face felt warm as he gave a half-hearted shrug.

“Just spaced out is all.” He winced as he readjusted his legs, swinging them back onto the bunk as he leaned back against his pillow, groping around for the datapad again. Fives watched him. 

“Those hurt?”

“Now who’s staring?” 

Fives sighed in exasperation, setting his blaster aside before moving to sit on Echo’s bunk next to him, plucking the datapad from his hands. Echo tried to grab at it, but Fives held it out of reach, a borderline scolding look on his face. Echo rolled his eyes, falling back onto his pillow again and folding his hands behind his head. The metal fingers of his cybernetic hand were chilly against his skin, and he readjusted. Fives’s eyes flicked to where his hands were fidgetting before moving back to his face. 

“You wanna talk about it?”

“About what?”

“Whatever’s got you so bent out of shape. You’ve never been one to ‘just space out.’ Ever. So let’s talk about it.” 

Echo watched him before allowing his gaze to drift to the bottom of the bunk above him, pretending to study it carefully. “Not much to talk about.”

“Fine I’ll go first. I think you’re scared you’re going to lose me again. I think you’re making up for lost time in your mind, mapping everything about me that’s the same and different. And I think it unnerves you how things are the very much the same and yet not at all, and you don't know what to do about it. That about sum it up?”

Echo’s brows furrowed as he stared at his brother. Fives’s glare had softened a bit. 

“You been tapping my neural nodes while I’m asleep?” Echo joked dryly. 

“No. I’m just doing the same things,” Fives whispered. 

The two of them allowed a heavy silence to settle between them. Years had been lost, years filled with moments that neither of them could ever get back, and they both knew it. Finally Echo wet his lips and took a deep breath. 

“It… it’s just… how do we jump back in? It feels like it should be so easy. It’s us. We've always been synced up. And we’ve got a second chance that I’m so grateful for, but there’s something about it that just seems… different.” 

“Whether we like it or not, we are different people, Echo.” 

Echo huffed, tapping the metal of his legs with a soft clanging sound. “Clearly.”

“I’m not talking about physically,” Fives muttered. “When I thought you died, I mourned. I thought I’d never get out of bed again for a while. Rex and Jesse and the others did their best to keep me moving, but something within me broke when I lost you. You were my best friend, my brother. And that part of me hasn’t healed yet. It may never fully. As for you, you underwent something unimaginable that you still haven’t talked about only to come to and find I was gone. I don’t know exactly how you viewed our relationship, but I’d like to think you cared for me as much as I cared about you.” 

Echo’s eyes burned as a memory resurfaced. 

Rex’s gloved hands were warm as he braced his lost brother’s frail body. Echo winced as he turned his head to look at the captain, his head still hammering from the stasis chamber. His tongue felt like sandpaper as he struggled to get the words out. 

“Rex. Where’s Fives?” 

He already knew the answer. There was no way Fives wouldn’t have been here. Rex’s expression all but confirmed it. He always had been terrible at hiding things. 

“Echo… I’m so sorry. He’s gone.” 

The former ARC trooper swallowed hard, blinking rapidly to clear the blur in his vision. “Still care about you,” he rasped. 

Fives smiled, but his eyes were glistening. “I know. And that’s a good starting point. So maybe we don’t jump right back in where we left off. Sort of hard to do when you’re almost strangers. That doesn’t mean that we can’t get back to where we were. Just have a new starting point.” Leaning forward, he cradled the back of Echo’s head carefully, pressing their foreheads together. Echo could feel the warmth coming off of his skin and could almost feel their pulses syncing up, just like they’d done a hundred times before. 

“You’re my brother. It’s always been you and me against the galaxy and nothing is going to change that,” Fives said quietly. “We’ll find our way back. We always do.” 

A tear finally broke free from the corner of Echo’s eye and he surged forward, wrapping his brother in a tight embrace. 

“Sounds like a plan,” he said quietly.

Tag List: @seriowan @partoftheeternalsoul @rosmariner @misogirl828 @ellichonkasaurusrex @zoeykallus @the-sith-in-the-sky-with-diamond @gjrain20-starwars @dsburnerblog @staycalmandhugaclone @redheadgirl @moonstrider9904 @teletraan-meets-jarvis @rain-on-kamino @ladykatakuri

[pokedocbedlam]

Okay, now I'm just imagining Emmet bringing his sword onto the subway, and just. Offering a special challenge.

Have the challangers fight him.

Maybe Ingo too, but mostly Emmet wants to see if anyone can beat him.

It could be like a special challenge day or something (maybe him getting Yeeted at Reshiram and causing havoc got a video leak from some security cameras? And people will not stop asking how did you do that questions.)

But either way, Emmet wipes the floor with everyone.

And then someone asks if a Legendary could be brought in. (Whatever Legendary(s?) You want them to fight, really.)

Emmet offers a fight with both him and Ingo if they bring two. Not on the train though. At the park, or maybe Elesa's gym? Either way.

The twins win. Overwhelmingly.

The video goes viral.

Several villain teams feel they got off lightly on who they have to deal with, all things considered. After all, the Train twins won't leave Unova, right?

I had to hold onto this ask for a bit because it inspired a little ficlet! Because I love this idea, and the twins would be so happy to fight on their own again.

...I didn't actually get around to writing a fight proper, but we've got the buildup! So under the readmore...

Ingo tugs his hat over his face to hide the embarrassed blush spreading across his skin. "This is foolish. Why did we agree to this? We're so out of practice."

"Speak for yourself!" Emmet goes through his practice stances, still familiar even though it's been so long since he's properly wielded a blade. Not counting that recent time with Reshiram and Team Plasma, which ended up on camera, which then spread everywhere because the twins still aren't used to hiding from live footage like that. "We still fought Reshiram on our own and won, didn't we? That's enough for most people. No one will know if your form is off."

"True, but I'll know," Ingo grumbles. He's trying not to look at the crowd of onlookers already swarming the park. Folks are setting up chairs and cameras. A food truck has set up nearby. Curious Pokemon, and a few children too, hang from every treebranch. Ingo has never felt such pressure to perform, but then again, he's stuck almost solely to Pokemon battles for the past few centuries.

Ever since the video clip of the Subway Bosses using actual weapons against Reshiram and Team Plasma went online, trainers kept asking to challenge the twins--not their Pokemon, just the twins themselves, Emmet with his sword and Ingo with his shields. They'd protested, because they certainly didn't want to hurt innocent Pokemon or trainers who were far too weak...but then someone had asked about the Legendary rule. Could those rare and ancient Pokemon not allowed on the Battle Subway under normal circumstances be allowed to fight the twins? And seeing the chance for either some friendly competition or a chance to settle a few century-old grudges, Emmet had agreed, and convinced Ingo to as well.

"Don't you want a challenge?" Emmet had asked. "You punched that smug bastard out. Saved the day. That can't be enough for you." And as much as Ingo didn't want to admit it, Emmet had been right. That urge to go all-out had been building under his skin and needed an outlet, and sparring with Emmet wouldn't be enough. They were born and raised fighters, and while directing their Pokemon in battle filled some of that void, it had been far too long since the twins themselves had stepped into the fray.

So here they are. Middle of the park with a one-time event set up. "Bring your strongest Pokemon, even your Legends, and battle the Subway Bosses!" Officially, it's a charity event, entry fees all going toward repairing and maintaining the different trains. According to event staff, they've already smashed their predicted goals, and the battles haven't even started yet. And that is why Ingo's nerves are on fire. He hasn't had this many people consciously watch him fight in...ever.

"Come on Ingo! Join me in warmups. You'll feel better. And it gives the crowd a show!" Emmet twirls his blade with an honest smile. "Like we're back at the training grounds. Remember?"

The memories are hazy, have been for a long time now, but Ingo obliges. He makes sure the shields are properly strapped onto his arms, then he slips into the familiar stance and goes through his forms. Block high, block low, pivot, step into a blow, block again...

"Look! It's the Champion...!" "Wait, aren't those the team leaders of...?" "Cynthia! That's really her!"

Oh. So they have some serious contenders today. Ingo's nerves give way to excitement as he deduces which of their longtime friends and rivals have shown up today. Not that they can have a proper chat with all of these humans around...well, those are details that can wait for later. They'll get the gist of it all in battle, where words aren't necessary.

Emmet twirls his sword, his smile beaming and full of sharpened teeth. "This is going to be fun. Are you ready?"

Ingo checks the straps on his shields one last time. Safety check completed, he nods. "More than ever."

The first contestants stride up and release legends that most of the crowd has never seen. The twins salute their longtime friends as they slip into their familiar mantra. Safety checks! Everyone smile! Aim for victory, and...

"All aboard!"

Steel sings, and Ingo feels more alive than he has in centuries.

[quirkfics]

choose or moment with sero/denki/reader?

Hanta's solid smile is beginning to waver around the edges, laughter threatening to burst free if he so much as twitches. Ordinarily it wouldn’t be an issue - Hanta teases as easily as breathing, and you and Denki both know what you’ve signed up for - but it he laughs, Denki is going to have to start from square one all over again. You elbow Hanta when he catches you looking, trying to startle him out of being an ass, but you realize your mistake as soon as it makes him squawk.  The dam breaks, and Hanta’s cackling fills the room.

“Noooo, you guys!” Denki wails, slapping his hands over his face. It muffles the noise, but doesn’t stop his caterwauling in the slightest.

“Hanta,” you bite out, trying for stern but ending up more choked sounding than anything else. A smile threatens to break over your own face, cheeks tense as you do your best to hold it back.

“Aw, come on!” Hanta sits up, smacking you gently on the hip before he reaches for Denki. He doesn’t grab, doesn’t yank, trying to keep from startling him, but Hanta slowly reels Denki’s hands away from his face, revealing flushed cheeks. “You have to choose where to start eventually! I vividly remember you saying, and I’m quoting here: ‘Chargebolt should be in charge! At least once in a while, I mean - it’s even in the name!’” 

Denki peeks over at you, but all you can do is shrug, smile finally breaking free. “We were both there, Denki. Hanta is quoting correctly.”

A bit of his embarrassment fades, a sly look narrowing his golden eyes. “Yeah, but at least you weren’t an ass about it. C’mere?”

Hanta grumbles as you and Denki kiss, but he’s still smiling - you can see it when you sneak a glance. 

[sickficsforthesoul]

Twin Idiots - Osamu

For @punkozume​

Prompt: sick Osamu, caretaker Suna ft. caretakers Kita and Aran (Michinari is here too, but he doesn't do that much tbh)

Osamu with the flu and a very high fever, he tries to hide that he's sick from Suna and almost passes out on the school, has a lot of nightmares and is kind of delirious

Word count: 2433 words

If you couldn't tell, there will be a separate Atsumu version of this fic coming soon. I didn't include any nightmares, but if this fic does well enough, I'll write a (hopefully) short ficlet to follow this fic up and focus on the nightmares and delirium, so let me know what you think!

(Suna doesn't have an accent because I remember reading somewhere that he's from Tokyo originally, but idk if that's right, so if it's not, please forgive me and pretend it's my own headcanon, not me forgetting where Suna's from.)

‘It’s really chilly today,’ Osamu notices, shivering under his coat. While winter was never warm, Osamu can’t remember the last time he’s felt so cold. Even his long walk to the Inarizaki gym does nothing to warm him up. Osamu snuggles into his jacket as he trudges on. It’s not snowing yet, but the sky is cloudy and ominously gray, so Osamu doesn’t expect the ground to stay snow-free for long.

Osamu doesn’t have to put up with his idiot brother today, at least. Tsumu had left for his fancy volleyball camp in Tokyo for the entire week the day before, so Osamu is on his own in Hyogo. Osamu and Tsumu attended together last year, but when Osamu’s invitation failed to arrive along with Tsumu’s this year, he can’t say he was too surprised. Osamu has never been as into volleyball as Tsumu.

Osamu has his own interests, like cooking and chemistry, that he’s far more passionate about. Volleyball is fun, but Osamu knows he won’t be doing it for the rest of his life like Tsumu probably will. Tsumu will always put more into volleyball than Osamu, and that resulted in him being invited to the All-Japan Youth Intensive Training Camp while his brother was not.

Osamu’s not upset by any means. He’s enjoying the separation from his twin. For one week, Osamu can have his own room, cook whatever he feels like, and watch as many cooking shows as he pleases. It’s a weeklong vacation from his ridiculously loud brother, and Osamu intends to enjoy every second of it.

When Osamu finally reaches the gym, he relishes in the warmth of the cozy gym. It’s a welcome change from the frigid air outside, and now Osamu is finally warm enough to shed his coat after shutting the gym door. Most of his teammates are already in the gym, either changing or warming up. Inarizaki may be on winter break, but Kita was adamant that his team continue to practice, even with Tsumu away at camp.

Osamu is already in his practice gear, opting for donning a sweatsuit over top of his shorts and tee-shirt due to the freezing weather. Osamu dumps his coat, bag, and other belongings along the wall before stashing his water bottle on the bench. Suna hasn’t shown up yet, so Osamu begins his warmup stretches alone. By the time Osamu has stretched his legs and hips, Suna and the rest of the team have finally assembled in the gym.

Once everyone is ready, Kita gives out instructions for what everyone will practice today. Most players are assigned exercises or drills for their current position, but Osamu isn’t so lucky. With Tsumu gone, Kita decides to use his absence as an excuse to work on Osamu’s setting. Osamu isn’t thrilled about the idea, but at least Kita, Michinari, and Suna will be working with him today, so practice shouldn’t be too miserable.

They begin simply, with Osamu setting to just Suna. Suna spikes Osamu’s set, Michinari digs up the spike, and Kita sends the ball over the net for Osamu to practice setting mid-rally. They continue the drill for a while, so Osamu can get in a grove before he tries more difficult sets later on. Osamu doesn’t love setting as much as Tsumu does, but he will admit that he’s enjoying the easy rhythm of the drill a lot. It’s a nice change of pace from his usual blocking and spiking, and Osamu enjoys setting to his best friend much more than he thought he would.

But Osamu’s enjoyment doesn’t last. When Kita finally sends them off for a water break, Osamu is feeling off. His muscles ache constantly, and he’s oddly cold despite the snug warmth of the gym. Osamu takes a sip of water from his bottle and sits on the ground in front of the bench. He leans his head against the bench and glances up at the gym ceiling. This proves to be a mistake as the bright ceiling lights cause a headache to flare in his temples. Osamu lowers his head and focuses on finishing his water, hoping futilely that he was just a little dehydrated.

Kita calls Osamu, Michinari, and Suna back to the court for more practice. This time, Aran joins them too. Kita explains the new drill they’ll be working on now. ‘It’s basically the same as the other drill,’ Osamu thinks quietly. The only difference between the drills was that now Osamu can choose between setting to Suna or Aran.

They get to work, and Osamu quickly adjusts to having a new spiker. His sets to Aran aren’t as clean or precise as Suna’s, but Osamu knows his sets are improving with every toss. Osamu’s headache also increases with every toss, but he doesn’t want to think about that. Kita will give him hell for practicing with a headache, and Osamu doesn’t want to get chewed out like Tsumu did when Kita caught him practicing with a cold. So Osamu stays quiet while they practice. Even as his headache gives way to nausea, and his body trembles with small shivers whenever he stands still for too long.

By the time Kita calls for another water break, Osamu is miserable. His arms ache fiercely from setting, and his legs are so shaky that he barely makes it back off the court. Suna fixes Osamu with a blank stare as soon as Osamu manages to stumble to the bench. Kita and Aran also stare at Osamu, but they remain silent. Osamu shifts awkwardly, eventually opting to lean forward and stare at the ground because that position lessened his headache the most. Osamu’s teammates still say nothing. The minute of silence between the four of them is almost as painful as Osamu’s raging headache, and that’s saying something because Osamu is pretty sure his brain is trying to escape from his skull with how hard his head is pounding.

Finally, Suna opens his mouth. “You’re an idiot, Samu.”

“No ‘m not,” Osamu mutters weakly.

“You are,” Suna insists. “You’re one big, sick idiot, Samu.”

“But ‘m not sick,” Osamu whines quietly. He knows he is, but he can’t bring himself to admit to being sick because then Kita will lecture him for practicing when he’s sick. Osamu can handle a lot of things, from a moping Tsumu to an Instagram-crazy Suna, but Osamu cannot handle a Kita lecture. Kita isn’t the type to yell or swear, but he always sounds so disappointed, and Osamu can’t stand disappointing someone he admires so much over such a stupid mistake.

“I hope you’re lying, Samu, because if you’re not, you’re a lot stupider than I thought you were,” Suna frowns slightly. “Maybe even stupider than your dumb twin.”

“Take tha’ back, ya jerk,” Osamu slurs, lifting his head to look at Suna’s near-expressionless face.

“Then stop acting like an idiot,” Suna counters, his voice still a steady monotone. “You need to go home. Like, now.”

Osamu sighs tiredly, lowering his head to face the ground again. His body agrees with Suna completely, but somehow, Osamu still doesn’t want to leave. Maybe it’s his hypercompetitive instincts from practicing with Tsumu so much, but Osamu doesn’t want to leave until practice is finally over. It’s completely ridiculous, Osamu knows, because he doesn’t even love volleyball that much. But Osamu hates leaving things half-finished, even if his body burns with fever, and his head throbs with every breath.

Osamu remains silent, so Suna takes matters into his own hands. Suna slides off the bench and stands in front of Osamu. Suna bends down and takes Osamu’s shaking hands in his own warm, steady ones. Then he gently pulls Osamu to his feet.

Osamu’s body strongly protests the sudden position change. Osamu’s headache intensifies to a new level of excruciating pain, and intense dizziness makes Osamu’s head spin. Osamu desperately tries to keep his balance, but his weakened body doesn’t stand a chance against the sudden but fierce wave of lightheadedness. Osamu’s body pitches dangerously as shadows creep into the edges of his vision. He feebly reaches for Suna, trying to steady himself before faints onto the gym floor.

Osamu tilts forward, his chin coming to rest on Suna’s shoulder before Osamu’s knees give out completely. Suna squawks in surprise as he suddenly finds himself bearing all of Osamu’s weight. Suna carefully guides them both to the floor as Kita and Aran dart off the bench to offer aid.

Osamu is still conscious (somehow), so he is distantly aware of everything his friends do to help him. Kita and Aran grab Osamu’s shoulders and pull him off Suna. They settle Osamu on his back lying prone on the gym floor. Suna takes Osamu’s ankles and holds them up at chest level to get some blood flowing back towards Osamu’s head. Michinari zooms off, returning seconds later with his and Aran’s duffle bags. Michinari stacks them to an acceptable height, and Suna rests Osamu’s feet on the bags.

Kita pillows Osamu’s head in his lap. “Osamu,” Kita calls softly, “are ya still with us?”

“Hm…? Yeah…” Osamu mumbles as his hazy eyes lock on Suna, who’s still kneeling by Osamu’s feet. “’m with ya…”

“Tha’s good,” Kita smiles gently. He rests a soft hand lightly on Osamu’s forehead. “Ya have a wicked fever there, Osamu. Do ya want some water?”

“Ya,” Osamu nods weakly. “‘m thirsty.”

“Here, Samu.” Aran offers the sick boy a water bottle, but Osamu’s hands are shaking too hard to hold it without splashing water everywhere, so Kita helps Osamu sit up more while Aran holds the bottle.

Osamu drinks greedily, only stopping to gasp for breath every few gulps. Aran sets the bottle on the floor once Osamu empties it completely. Osamu’s appearance has improved considerably by now. His face is regaining color, his eyes aren’t foggy, and his body has stopped trembling like a leaf in the autumn wind. Kita and Aran help him sit all the way up, and when he still looks okay, they beckon Michinari and Suna over to help them get Osamu standing.

Once Osamu is on his feet, Aran and Suna support the sick blocker by his shoulders. Kita goes to explain the situation to their coaches while Michinari does the same for the rest of the team, who had slowly stopped practicing once they noticed what was going on with Osamu.

Suna and Aran slowly walk Osamu to the door. They stop briefly to haphazardly dress Osamu in his coat as well as Suna’s hat and Aran’s scarf. Ginjima, who has slipped away from the team gather with Michinari, holds the door open for them. Ginjima has the trio’s bags. He passes off Osamu’s bag to Suna along with Suna’s own bag while giving Aran his bag too.

“Ginjima,” Aran says as he and Suna maneuver Osamu out the door, “please let Kita know we’re leavin’.”

“Sure,” Ginjima agrees, eyeing Osamu worriedly. “Are ya takin’ him home?”

“Yeah,” Suna replies. “He’s going straight to bed when we get there since he won’t rest unless we make him.”

“Okay. Good luck, then.” Ginjima wishes them well with a wave before he closes the gym door.

Suna and Aran make the agonizingly slow trip to the Miya household. It takes them over an hour to get Osamu home. By the time they reach the front door, snow flurries are falling onto their hair and eyelashes. It takes another fifteen minutes to get Osamu upstairs, changed, and settled into bed.

Osamu’s parents aren’t home, so it’s up to Aran and Suna to find Osamu medicine, water, and food. Suna tackles the food because Aran admits that he’s never done more than boil water, and Osamu will kill them for destroying his kitchen, even if he’s burning with an extremely high fever (the thermometer Aran finds in the bathroom reads 39.5°C after resting under Osamu’s tongue for a minute). Suna reheats leftover rice he finds in the Miya’s refrigerator and dumps it in a bowl. It’s hardly gourmet cuisine, but Osamu will be too loopy to care anyway. Suna also fills a glass with water before carrying both things up to the twins’ shared bedroom.

Aran is sitting on a chair across from Osamu, who is snuggled up on the bottom bunk. Aran takes the water from Suna and forces Osamu to swallow both the fever reducers he’s found and the entire glass of water. Once Osamu’s finished, Suna presents him with the bowl of reheated rice. Osamu only finished half of it, but Suna didn’t expect much more, even with Osamu’s reputation for his voracious appetite.

“I have ta go home now,” Aran admits as he gathers the bowl and glass. “Are ya goin’ to stay with him?”

“Yeah, at least until his parents get home,” Suna nods. “We can’t leave him alone when he’s like this.”

“Ya,” Aran agrees. “I’ll clean this up before I go. I left the medicine on tha bathroom sink, and the thermometer’s right there.” He nods to the thermometer lying next to Osamu’s pillow. “Thanks fer stayin’ with him, Suna.”

“S’not a problem,” Suna hums lightly. “You should get going before your mom comes looking for you.”

Aran laughs, “Good point. I’ll see ya later, Suna.”

Aran leaves, taking the bowl and cup with him, so now it’s just him and Osamu in the bedroom. Suna reaches out to ruffle Osamu’s gray hair. “You’re still an idiot, Samu.”

“I know,” Osamu cracks his eyes open slightly and smiles, “but yer not.”

“Obviously,” Suna smirks, “but you’re not as stupid as Tsumu. Not yet, at least.”

“Gee, thanks, Suna,” Osamu laughs faintly. “Thanks fer stayin’.”

“You didn’t seriously think I’d leave with you like this, did you?” Suna raises a slim eyebrow.

“Nah,” Osamu smiles, “yer too good of a friend fer that.”

“You’re getting soft on me, Samu,” Suna smiles back.

“I’m sick, ya jerk,” Osamu huffs. “I’m allowed ta be soft.”

“You are sick,” Suna concedes, “but you’re still an idiot, and sick idiots need sleep.”

“Who’s gettin’ soft again?” Osamu quips, but his eyes still slip shut without protest.

“Goodnight, Samu.” Suna pats Osamu’s head gently as he settles himself onto Aran’s now vacant chair.

“G’night, Suna,” Osamu yawns, finally drifting off into a feverish but natural sleep.

Suna adjusts Osamu’s blankets and pulls out his phone. Knowing Osamu, the night won’t be as peaceful as Suna is hoping for, so he plays stupid mobile games on his phone and waits for what he knows will come in a few hours.

[leavaloo]

900 followers! [Dragon!Raihan x F!Reader ficlet]

Wow!! Thank you so much for 900 followers! That’s huge! I’m so glad you all enjoy my writing! I decided to celebrate this with a small, out of the blue drabble of Raihan, the very character that I made this blog to write about lol. While I’m still not doing gen 8 stuff at this moment, I wanted to honor him that way. I hope to keep giving you guys writing, and learning and talking with all of you in the future!

I’ve also started a new writing project in the background, a book I’m currently working on that has been different than what I’ve prompted previously. I hope that, eventually, I’ll be able to share it with you guys, but as of right now, I don’t intend to let others read it, as to not mess up my flow with this! But it’s very exciting, and if you guys want, I might write some original writings for this blog more often as practice or warmups!

It’s been a crazy year so far, and I really appreciate you all sticking with me. I love you all so so much, even when I go in small, inactive bursts. I hope you enjoy this ficlet, and I’ll see you on the next post <3

--------

You knew your limits, but this was a new high. The skies above that entered into the heavens never seemed to have anything to rival this. Feelings abound, as stormy as the sinking waters beneath your feet, and yet, you couldn’t let go. You couldn’t help your drive, your passion, your fascination.

Of course, you also had trust. Trust that Raihan would not take you to your death, even if he was in the form of a two thousand pound dragon. You rode his bronze scaled back, lower and lower into the depths of the water, but you held your breath as the pressure got worse. You closed your eyes, but it wasn’t like there was much to see anyways. The darkness had taken the two of you. You always thought that dragons with large wings and fire breathing abilities wouldn’t be able to swim, or even go these depths.

Though, in the back of your mind, you wondered. Where were you going? Raihan had mentioned that you two were going someplace special to his people. That there was more of them here, and that you would finally be safe. It was a risk, and he would go as fast as he could, but he wanted so bad to show you.

The fear crept into your brain as your lungs ached for air, but you held on. There was still more to go. You thought back to why you were doing this. You two had been hunted, because they found out who and what Raihan was. As a princess, you really had no control of your fate, your destiny. But you resisted anyways. This was the man you loved, the dragon you wanted to be with.

You didn’t know he was a dragon, at first. He was just a lowly servant, one of your personal assistants. It was when mating season rolled around that he ended up acting... different. He pinned for you, every moment of every day, and it became increasingly difficult for him to keep up this facade. When he told you he was leaving, you cried. You wished it weren’t so, and you begged him to stay. Because you too had fallen for him.

After a night of passion, you learned his true self. He gave you the option of staying with your family, or eloping and running away with him. You decided to follow your heart. When you were found the first time, you saw Raihan’s true form. The bronze scales, the magnificent horns, the large, leathery wings, and the protective drive he had for you.

From there, you were hunted, and hurt. You could still feel the scar bugging you on your leg. He carried you for so long, not even an ounce of complaining. Finally, you two had traveled far enough to the entrance from their world to his. It was under a lake, traveling these underwater tunnels to get to and from. It was at the base of a mountain pass that was too dangerous for humans to explore. But he trusted you, and you trusted him.

Eventually, light hit your eyelids, and you released the pain from your lungs. You were met with sweet air as you two burst from the surface of the water to this new land. Raihan immediately turned in to his human form, gasping for air just like you were. He took you by your waist, dragging you to the edge of the water. No one else was there, but the grass almost sang you a welcome. Dark green, like the canopy of pines above you. And he clutched you close, holding you as you two were half in and half out of the water. Soaked, but breathing heavy and alive. Blood poured from some of his wounds from the last attack, but he smiled at you and pushed some of your drenched hair from your face.

“We did it! We did it, baby girl!” he cried out, laughing all the while. His little snaggletooth poked out, his smile blinding as usual.

You laughed back. “Yeah! We sure did... now we have to find your house, right?”

“Not if I have anything to say about it.” Raihan rolled over and planted his lips on yours. He had never been really good at kissing, especially since he was usually in dragon form, but the passion was not lost in the wet mess. You laughed into the kiss, holding his hand as it rubbed a thumb across your cheek. When he finally pulled away, his usual, charming smirk was there. But it faded quickly, as he flopped back to the ground with a long sigh. “Rest. Food.”

“You only get to pick one right now.”

He thought for a second. “Rest. Come.” Raihan wrapped his long arms around you and planted your head on his chest. Almost within seconds, he was asleep and snoring, even with his legs still being in the water. You softly chuckled to yourself, quickly following suit, enjoying the cold air and the feeling of being free with your lover. Dragon or not, it was what you wanted. Now all that was left was to set a life up here, with the charming man you had come to love.

[misc-headcanons]

Smoker/Reader NS.FW Ficlet

(I've started writing these as a warmup for when I'm filling requests)

Word Count: 487

"Sir, I have the reports on--"

The Marine private stopped and stared at his commander. Vice-Admiral Smoker seemed...redder than usual. His cheeks were bright pink, and his back was straight and rigid in his chair as he glowered at the soldier in front of him.

"Private, how many times do I have--" He sharply inhaled through his nose and gripped one of the arms of his chair. He took a deep breath and composed himself. "How many times...do I have to tell you to knock before entering my office?"

The private slowly walked forward and set down the stack of papers in his trembling arms onto Smoker's desk. "I'm s-sorry, sir," he replied meekly. "It won't happen again." 

Smoker nodded curtly. "See that it doesn't," he replied. "Dismi--shit!" He cut himself off with a moan through gritted teeth. When he jolted a bit in his seat, his desk moved a few inches in front of him. The private jumped back in surprise. 

"S-sir, do you need me to get a medic?"

"No," Smoker replied in a strangled grunt. He pointed at the door. "Dismissed. Get out."

The private immediately spun around and made a beeline for the door, shutting it behind him on his way out. When he left, Smoker exhaled shakily and glared down at his lover hiding underneath his desk; one of their hands was wrapped around his cock, and their lips glistened with a mixture of saliva and precum. "That was too close of a call," he chided, his eyes half-lidded. "I told you to lock the door."

____ smirked and continued to stroke his shaft. "Guess I forgot," they replied mischievously. Smoker let out a small moan and gripped the back of their head with one hand. "But come on, doesn't the thought of getting caught excite you, just a little?" They continued to tease him by swirling their tongue around the tip of his cock.

Smoker was silent, except for the sound of his breath as he panted a bit. "It might," he rumbled in a slightly defensive tone. "But that doesn't mean I'm going to let you off the hook so easily." 

With one quick movement of his hips, he buried himself to the hilt in their mouth. They pretended to be surprised and indignant, making a dramatic (and slightly muffled) noise of protest as Smoker moved their head at a steady pace, but the glint in their eyes and the way the corners of their mouth were turned up into a smirk gave them away--this was what they were after this whole time. After a few seconds, they'd dropped the facade and were bobbing their head back and forth as they mewled and moaned pleasurably.

"If you swallow, I might not have to punish you later tonight," he grumbled. He reached for the papers that the private had set down and began to read them. "Might."

[metalbatandzenko]

all the numbers owo

GrCUnA gaoh god sdljhdkjshfkjsh

This is gonna get long so I’ll put it under the cut. I’m also gonna remove the ones I’ve answered already.

1. What fandoms do you write for?

OPM and AtLA. I have a Miraculous Ladybug fic, but the creator is a nightmare and I hate the way the show treats the main character (literally the creator said part of the show’s episode formula is the main character “learns a lesson” every episode: usually through humiliation) and all the characters of color so I really don’t write for it anymore.

2. What pairings do you write for?

Batarou, Mumensai, and I do general fics.

3. What is your most popular fanfic?

My Miraculous Ladybug fic. By like. a lot akfdjhlgkjhfdlkg

It’s got triple the subscriptions and bookmarks, double the hits, and more kudos than any of my other fics. And I haven’t updated since January.

4. Do you write original stories as well?

I do! I’m a creative writing major, so I do a lot of memoir nonfiction and poetry, but I also write fictional short stories.

5. What fanfic of yours should everyone have read?

I don’t think there is one! Different strokes and all. But if you weren’t aware, I’m working on an ATLA fic rn about Zuko trying to repair his relationship with Azula. Not for this fandom, but a fun fic for me because it’s a bit out of my wheelhouse.

6. What is a fandom you will never write for?

Out of the ones I’ve been in, voltron.

7. What is a ship you will never write for?

There are...a lot. For the sake of my mental well being, I will not list them. But I will say any ship between a teen and someone in their mid twenties or beyond is a no go for me.

8. Archive of Our Own, FanFiction.net, Wattpad, Tumblr, etc. which platform do you prefer?

Begrudgingly, Ao3. I have my issues with Ao3 and I think I’ve made those pretty clear (and they’ve gotten me into some hot water lmao) but it’s a good place to put fics.

10. How do you stay motivated to finish what you’ve started?

I could not tell you. I am so bad at staying motivated. Certain fics I love writing. Others feel like I’m pulling teeth.

11. What’s your longest fanfic?

Hidden Horns. By a lot. like 20k words a lot.

12. Do you want to break your readers‘ heart or make them laugh?

A bit of both, but I lean towards laughing. The world needs more light.

13. What is your planning process?

Depends on the fic. For short ones or oneshots, there really isn’t one. For longer fics, I’ll have an outline, but a lot of times I’m laying tracks as I go. If I think of a good scene or line, I’ll write it down and just keep it at the end of my doc until it comes up in the story.

15. OCs or no OCs?

OC’s only when they’re necessary for plot. For example, Madame Oshitani in Hidden Horns only really showed up because I needed a piano teacher, and I couldn’t have it be an existing hero. Outside of that, I tend to avoid putting OC’s in fics, because I find them disruptive when I’m reading fics.

16. Do you use sentence starters, writing prompts and/or fandom headcanons for your fanfics?

Sometimes! Hidden Horns was based off of this fanart. If they are, I make sure to note that in the notes.

20. Can we get a list of all of your current available fanfics?

Yeah you got:

A (Not So) Brief Hiatus-Miraculous Ladybug

Promises to Keep-OPM/batarou

Little Boy-OPM/Metal Bat centric

A Game of Chase-OPM/batarou

Not Invincible-OPM/batatou death

Someone Fun-OPM/Mumensai

Date With the Devil-OPM/Mumensai sequel

Something of Note-OPM/Mumensai

Conduct Evil-OPM/batarou

Grief and Other Intangibles-OPM/Zombiedad and CE death

Horns and Fangs Series (Hidden Horns and Fear and Fangs)-OPM/batarou

Spaghetti and Juiceboxes-OPM/Zombiedad and CE

I guess they don't like me but I never figured out why (I guess they think I don't like them either)-ATLA/Zuko reaches out to Azula

21. What’s your shortest fanfic?

Conduct Evil at a whopping 354 words.

23. Long chapters or short chapters?

They vary! Mine tend to be pretty short, like 1k-4k.

24. How many WIPs (work-in-progress) do you’ve got?

*sweats* Like 17 at least

25. How many WIPs will you finish?

Rude to assume I won’t finish all of them eight if I’m lucky

26. First-person-narrative or third-person-narrative?

Third. I hate writing in first person except for in nonfiction.

27. Do you take requests?

Kind of. If people send me an ask that I vibe with, I might write something, but as a general rule, no. I’ve been considering doing commissions though, so if you want to toss a coin to your bitcher lmk

28. I will name you three things (object — scenario — fandom/ship): write a paragraph or two!

I can’t do this one without those three kdjhflkjsdh

29. What’s more difficult? Fanfics or original work?

They’re difficult in different ways, but original is way harder.

Original work means there’s zero scaffolding to build off of except for the scaffolding you make yourself, and there’s a lot of issues with worldbuilding and creating complex and relatable characters.

Fanfic relies on a solid understanding of existing characters and dynamics, as well as the internal logic of the world. The scaffolding is there, but often times it’s stifling.

30. What writing software do you use?

Word and Google Docs fkjhslgkjh

31. Do you use beta/sensitive readers?

Nope. I probably should though.

32. Past or present tense?

Past. I can’t consistently write in present.

33. Do friends and family know that you write fanfics?

Some of my friends do. I’ve shared some with them! I use fanfic as warmup, so a lot of my writing friends know about my fics.

34. How did you find the world of fanfics?

I wrote Adventure Time fanfic on middle school and published them on an Adventure Time facebook group. They were wildly popular in the group.

36. Did you ever delete a work of yours?

I don’t think so tbh.

37. Did your work ever get plagiarized?

If it did, I wouldn’t know. But I highly doubt it.

38. Do you partake in any fanfic/writing events? (Big bangs, zines, NaNoWriMo, etc?)

No because I can’t stick to a deadline.

39. Collaborations or working solo?

I’ve never done a collaboration before.

41. What is something you don’t like about your writing?

I rely really heavily on dialogue and I’m suuuper aware of it. I think the thing is I do a lot of domestic fics, and even my story fics tend to be pretty domestic. I’m looking at you Hidden Horns

My original work doesn’t tend to lean on it as heavily.

43. Guilty pleasure tropes and scenarios?

I am a die hard found family bitch. Nothing guilty about it.

44. Does fanart of your fanfic exist?

Yes, actually. The aforementioned middle school fic got mini fancomic for the first chapter, and I wrote a Miraculous Ladybug ficlet in a fic chain that got fanart.

45. Do fanfics of your fanfic exist?

I think there might be one that was inspired by my fic, but I can’t remember tbh.

47. What fanfic of yours is truly underrated?

My ATLA fic!!! give it some love tf :/ (kidding of course.)

50. Can we get a teaser for an upcoming chapter?

Yeah, here you go:

The hero removed his coat and dropped it on the ground, where it landed with a solid “thud”.

He unhooked the holster under his arms, removed a knife from both boots, and unstrapped the machetes from his back.

They joined the trench coat in the pile.

Garou watched in equal parts awe and horror as Zombieman continued to produce weapons from increasingly improbable locations.

Finally, when the pile at his feet was large enough to arm a private militia, Zombieman stopped.

“I’ve got a pistol in my chest, but I’d prefer not to take that one out,” he said, pushing past Garou. “Feels rude to invite myself over then get blood all over the tatami.”

[scummy-writes]

Rules (For prompts/reqs)

Finally setting this up! This may be updated as time goes on, so there is going to be a date at the bottom of when it was last updated!

Characters:

Ikevamp

Will Not Write: Dazai, Shakespeare, Faust, New Characters (i know jack shit about them I am sorry)

Most confident with: Isaac, Arthur, Comte(ish)

Less confident with: The Rest

Ikepri (I am still learning about the characters in general, please keep this in mind)

Will Not Write: Luke, Sariel, New Characters (I dont know them)

Bit more confident with: Gilbert, Clavis (?), Silvio (?), Chev (???)

Less confident: The Rest

You're free to request any from the less/more confident brackets, just understand in the Less section, theres more of a risk for it sounding ooc.

General rules:

First and foremost: I have a right to refuse prompts/reqs. I am typically unable to write all the requests I get.

Requests, whether stemming from prompts or not, are you requesting My Take on the character with the context you have requested. I am not an official writer for these games, and by that technically all my fanfics are ooc. Understand my headcanons or views for these characters will not always line up with yours.

I don’t do asks in a certain order, other than whichever is inspiring me the most at the moment.

Please understand that asks do not have a set way that they will be answered. Typically it is little ficlets at the most, or HC bullet point format. They will NOT be full fanfics.

N/S/F/W is accepted as long as you're an adult.

I will write for ships outside of character/mc, but only if I’m into them.

If its not specified in the ask, I write the mc as female most of the time. If youd like the mc to be a different gender, please feel free to specify that in your req.

I will NOT write the nonc*n, inc*st, under*ged, s*unding, gore, vore, furry, animals, micro/macro, necro, inflation, but also I won’t write character death.

The more complicated the ask, the less likely I am to write it. I'm primarily a realistic fiction writer, so while ikevamp or ikesen are of course fantasy due to time travel and such, I like writing more realistic prompts than fantasy that pushes the limits the games have set. Please be mindful of this with your reqs/prompts!

My primary focus with writing is my fic wips, and these asks are things I use for either warmups or to help me through/out of writers block. There may be breaks where I don’t respond to requests for a bit.

Ask responses are, 99% of the time, unbeta’d

(09/23/23)

[itsallavengers]

I'm trying (emphasis on trying) to write but it's hard and I don't know how to continue :(

That’s okay love, listen writing is like.... it takes a hell of a lot outta you okay, you gotta be ready and you gotta be inspired and you gotta have free time, and there are a lot of contributors that might be stopping you. Writing block. Stresses from every day life and deadlines that are stopping you. It’s hard to find the time and energy to put words down and think up a whole-ass plot and universe with nothing but your head. Don’t let the problems get you down though. It’s just about working around them. Are you just not inspired with the story any more? That’s okay. You can always leave it for later when the imagination hits again. Or, you can write out an exciting scene that you know is going to come along later in the story, and that might inspire you to write your way up to it so that you can show everyone that Awesome Scene! That’s what I did for PWGI, because I went through a period where I had no idea how to continue and was completely stuck for ideas. 

You could also try writing short ficlets and drabbles, just to get the creative juices flowing! That’s a nice little warmup I do sometimes- find one of those prompt lists and give a few of them a whirl, maybe! YOu got this babe

[teruthecreator]

also if ur ever curious why i make little ficlets before i post a chapter its bc if i come out of a writing break and work on ssoss im gonna end up hating whatever scenes i start w. i have to have a warmup. i just post them bc i made a vow to myself years ago that i’d post every writing i finished to try and beat off my perfectionism 

[dominodebt]

warmup ficlet?

I’m not really sure but I know artists always post images of their warmup and cooldown sketches and stuff and uh I do the same thing with writing (basically it’s the thing I write when I don’t feel like writing the thing I have to write) and uh I thought I’d throw it up here if anyone cared?

It takes place in the universe of Fire Emblem Heroes, that RNG mobile game that I both love and hate with a burning passion. I was training up my Clarisse and Camus for like a whole day and kept hearing their voice lines over and over again and finally had to write a little scene with them just to get it out of my head.

it’s really just an excuse to practice snarky dialogue and action sequences

I have no idea if this will make any sense I’m sorry it’s super self-indulgent but I swear I’m working on stuff y’all will actually like as we speak

Have a good one kids <3

“Are all women from your Realm like…this?”

           Clarisse quirks an eyebrow as she stares down the shaft of her arrow, lining up her next shot. After a heartbeat and a half she releases the taut bowstring with a long-memorized snap, and her arms tense as the recoil makes the weapon tremble in her grip.

           A cry goes up from her target as her arrow finds a chink in the knight’s armor, and he goes down hard as Anna’s axe smashes down—shattering his shoulder guard and ripping through skin and bone with a ruby splash.

           “Like what?” she asks, violet eyes flickering to her next mark. She spies a cleric and a flier both equal distance away, only about a foot apart, she can get both of them if she’s quick enough—

           Her bowstring hums as she fires off two arrows—one only a moment behind the other—and the flier’s Pegasus gives a horrible screech as the cleric gasps in pain, white shawl blossoming crimson—

           She then turns—Clarisse, the orphaned assassin, the night sniper, the could-have-been Queen—and gives the speaker a look edged with a bit too much venom. “Competent?”

           Camus the Sable stares her down from atop his horse, lifting an eyebrow, expression a cool mask of dignity.

           “That was not the word I was going to use,” he tells her tersely.

           Clarisse rolls her eyes, looking back to the battle. It’s mostly over—she watches as Sharena makes a somewhat risky move towards the remaining mage and her arms tense as she draws up her bow to assist—wait, she’s doesn’t give a shit.

          Let the princess stumble to her demise. Why should Clarisse care? She’s not even getting paid for this nonsense.

          Her bow arm drops, but her tension refuses to wan, and Clarisse keeps one eye on the scene until Alphonse comes valiantly to Sharena’s defense, cutting down the mage before turning around to lecture his sister.

           Clarisse just scoffs. Idiot nobles—the lot of them.

           “Then please, what generalization about women were you going to make?” Clarisse asks unkindly, slinging her bow across her back as she moves to collect her arrows. She hears the paladin dismount behind her, footfalls loud compared to her near-silent steps.

           “I’ve never met a woman assassin before,” she hears him say as she bends down to yank a handful of arrows out of a bow knight that had tried to best her at the start of the battle. She sneers at the corpse as she replaces the arrows to her quiver before straightening back up.

           “Yeah, well, there’s not a lot to see,” Clarisse remarks dully, scanning the field for more arrows. She doesn’t trust the ones the nobility here keeps trying to force on her—she’ll just keep recycling her own, thank you very much.

           She can feel the paladin watching her, and works her jaw with irritation. Why the Grandmaster (she mocks the title even in her mind) had seen fit to pair her up with this dark, near-silent General is beyond her. She wonders if he mistook them for siblings. They do sort of resemble each other.

           Dull gold hair. Scowling expressions. Eyes that find flaws before faces.

           Clarisse shakes her head, dispelling the thoughts as she trudges on through the battlefield.

          “We’re a lot like men assassins,” she calls over her shoulder, voice rough and cold. “Expect we’re actually good at our jobs.”

          She stoops to pull a single arrow out of the neck of long-dead mage, ears twitching at the chatter of the royal siblings and their Commander. She strains a bit to catch some of their words—“You have to give her space, Sharena, remember what Prince Marth said?”—and she scoffs under her breath as she slides the arrow into her quiver.

           Oh, dear Prince Marth. What did he have to say, Alphonse?

           The paladin is still near her—loitering like a ghost in her space. She allows him to stay there without complaint—he’d be dead before he could reach his lance if he decided to try anything.

          “Now who’s generalizing?” he asks, voice low and dark and practically oozing chivalry. She rolls her eyes.

          “You’re obviously not an assassin,” she remarks, back still to him as she searches through the darkening battlefield for the familiar flash of her arrow’s signature fletching. “So I’m not sure why you’re getting so bent out of shape.”

           “Perhaps I know an assassin.” Clarisse just grits her teeth. Great. Rapport with the Sable General. Perfect. Just what she wants. “Perhaps I take affront to your implication that he is inferior to you.”

           Clarisse knows he doesn’t mean anything by it—they’re all bored to death in this Realm, all of them itching for battle or conversation or something, and she shouldn’t snap on him but dammit if this paladin doesn’t get out of her space—

           The slight crunch of grass is deafening to Clarisse, and her eyes snap wide as she whirls around, hair flaring out like a tarnished halo as she draws up her bow, completely ignoring the paladin who is staring down the shaft of her arrow and with a face like stone, hand shooting out for his lance and please, if she wanted him dead he’d never have a chance—

           Her bowstring thrums in the near-dark as she lets her arrow fly. It shoots straight over the shoulder of the paladin, the fletching just catching his cheek as it spirals into the twilight to spear the heart of an axe fighter who’d tried to flank them.

           The fighter falls, his cries catching the attention of the Askr royals, and Clarisse just scoffs. What kind of self-respecting bandit can’t even execute a proper sneak attack?

           Before her, the paladin lifts a single gloved hand to his cheek, pulling it away to see a small sliver of blood the slice of her arrow’s feathers had left. Their eyes catch, and Clarisse just lifts her chin.

           “Tell your friend he’s welcome to try me,” she informs him coolly, adrenaline swirling through her blood.

          His expression remains carefully fixed—he’s got a hell of a poker face, she’ll give him that—and he just gazes down impassively at her.

          “Well shot,” he tells her.

          “I know,” she bites back.

           She turns her back on the scene—she’ll leave that arrow, it’s not worth getting within earshot of Sharena to retrieve—and walks on, letting the darkness swallow her.