#second one wip -> Motorcycles be damned

[huaqinger]

tatsujun 💐

[rfyu]

you catch sight of him again at the bus terminal - that cute boy from your tutorial last year who you’d almost been foolish enough to think you had a chance with. that was until you’d realised takashi mitsuya was just that nice to everyone - the soft smiles that crinkled up the corners of his pretty eyes, the quiet concern, the witty conversation.

devastating. 

humiliating, even.

the whole day so far has felt like it’s been leading up to something, and you guess this is it. it’s nearing the turning of the seasons, so the sky is heavy and the air thick with the promise of an oncoming storm. the cold metal of the bench brands ice against the back of your legs as you’re pushed into it by the masses of people waiting for their buses - late, as usual - your view entirely blocked by heads and backs and tote bags. so it almost feels like fate - the way the wind picks up, the crowd momentarily shifts, and your eyes land on him. 

your first thought is, damn, he looks exactly the same. all things considering, it’s not the most intelligent thought given it’s only been seven or so months since your breakup - nota bene, the submission of the group project - but he does have a tendency to reduce your neurological function to near-zero levels. and it’s not like you haven’t seen him in the months between; you’ve faithfully watched his stories with a carefully calculated timing that conveys the utmost nonchalance. and though you now know far too much about the food he likes, his design wips, his friends, cats, and motorcycle (a suzuki gsx400fs currently in for repair), you’ve never worked up the courage to text him, to the dismay of your friends who’ve faithfully put in hours of unpaid labour brainstorming the perfect opening lines with you.

but there’s something different about finally seeing him in person again. cameras really don’t do him justice - they don’t capture the way he holds himself with easy confidence, the elegant messiness of his silver-lilac hair in the wind, the calm set of his pale grey-violet eyes. the way he’s always so well put together, in clothes and action and speech. the silhouette of his sharply cut coat, the light glinting off his earring, the way the clouds seem to part and sunlight forms a crown on his head as a choir of angels descend.

bad. this is really bad, because you’re still down bad, and he’s beautiful in the way the moon is - addictive, dominating your sky, impossible to take your eyes off…

at least, that’s until he senses your gaze on him and glances in your direction. you look away so fast you hear something in your neck crack, feigning a casualness you don’t feel at all. 

this is fine.

you’re panicking; heat’s rushing to your face despite the biting cold. you can’t help it - you peek back at him, just for a second, and lord up above but he’s still looking at you. and then he gives you his perfect smile, the soft one with the crinkled eyes and the little tilt of his head, and you have never been more grateful to see your bus pull up in your entire life as the crowd surges forward and cuts off the tenuous connection your extended eye contact had formed between you.

there’s still a few empty rows near the back of the bus that you make a beeline for, slipping into the seat closest to the window and pulling your bag onto your lap. there’s music playing, just barely loud enough to hear over the rumbling of the engine.

if you like piña coladas / and gettin’ caught in the rain …

you’re lucky you got to sit down; at the rate people are pouring through the doors, there’s going to be a lot of people left standing, and is that takashi mitsuya? getting onto your bus, gaze searching for empty seats, gaze finding you? 

it’s disgraceful how unabashedly you suddenly wish that he’ll take the empty spot next to you as he weaves his way in your direction, your entire body tingling with anticipation - but as he moves towards you and then decidedly past you, you mournfully conclude that’s too much to hope for. at the end of the day, you really don’t know each other that well. he probably doesn’t even remember your name.

the thought makes you a lot sadder than it should.

why’s he on this bus? where does he even live? you’ve never thought about it (lie, you have, you’re just not good enough at stalking to find out - though you assumed it was the student accommodations), but surely he doesn’t take this route. surely he doesn’t need to go to the same station as you. surely there’s not another part of your lives that overlap.

it’s only once the bus starts moving and you rest your head on the rattling window pane that you realise he’s sitting right behind you. after some adjusting - with your chin in your hand and your gaze on the gathering darkness outside - you can clearly make out his reflection in the cool glass if you turn your head the slightest bit. 

how does he manage to look so beautiful in a bus window? and at an ordinarily unflattering angle, too? how insane are you for putting this much effort into catching another glimpse of him? (you’ve probably broken the scale of measurement.) but there’s just something about him that makes you weak - that makes your heart flutter and your knees wobble - that makes you stoop down to levels you have never gone to before. 

takashi fricking mitsuya will be the death of you. 

the bus jerks to a stop, banging your forehead against the window hard enough to leave a bruise and unequivocally bringing an end to your humiliating, down-bad behaviours.

that's it. you’re going to suck it up. you’re going to lock in. you’re not going to pine after a boy who you spent two entire tutorials working with, who doesn’t even remember your—

“sorry, do you mind if i sit here?”

you turn, and the bus accelerates in tandem with your heartbeat. 

i’m the love that you’ve looked for / write to me and escape…

“it’s just my other seat’s directly under the air con,” takashi-fricking-mitsuya says pleasantly, “and it’s already cold enough in here.”

your mouth moves automatically before your brain does, giving you a few extra seconds to catch up. “oh, yeah, of course, no worries.”

perfect delivery. chill, friendly. you should turn off your brain more often.

what the hell.

he drops into the seat beside you with far more elegance than any single person should possess. “yn, right? i remember you from last year.”

“yup, yeah, i - remember you as well.”

as if you could forget him. the seats are small; you can feel the warmth of his body, mere inches away from yours. he’s not crazy tall but his legs look insanely long, even folded up - at least next to yours. you need to say something more.

“um, that was a pretty good unit.”

good. great work. you formed a passable sentence. 

he does his smile again, eyes crinkling. “yeah, definitely. you can really feel the difference when the chief coordinator actually wants to be there - there’s so much more thought that goes into its organisation.”

you find yourself smiling back, an automatic reaction whenever you’re around him. “though the first assignment really shouldn’t have been a hurdle.”

“i didn’t mind that so much as the fact it was a quarter of the grade.”

“that’s the thing with humanities units,” you shrug. “you get fewer assignments, but they have much higher weightings. it’s a lot more spread out in science.”

“i’d much rather make one good video essay than have to memorise - i dunno, layers of the stomach - and have to submit five different things every week.”

“shall we agree to disagree, then?” 

“you probably enjoyed memorising the layers of the stomach,” he accuses.

you laugh. “there’s only four, so it’s really not that bad.”

“what’s your major, anyway?” he asks, tilting his head at you; a lock of hair falls into his eyes. “was last year’s unit your elective?”

you’re doing physiology; he’s doing fashion designing. the conversation continues from there - straying from uni, to interests, to a story about one of his childhood friends involving a near-stolen bike and a case of mistaken identity that’s got you cracking up till you can’t breathe. and to your surprise, it’s all so easy. you’d forgotten how well you get along with him. you almost feel stupid for not reaching out earlier, but as usual, you’d gotten too caught up in your head about it all. takashi-fricking-mitsuya, you realise now, would be a great friend.

there’s so much traffic that it’s another forty-five minutes before the bus finally pulls into the station. you grimace as the doors open, sending a biting blast of cold air and sprinkling rain into your face.

“can we just stay here?”

“you want to loop all the way down to the sea?”

it’s enough motivation for you to grudgingly struggle to your feet and swing your bag over your shoulder, body complaining after having been cramped up for so long. you follow takashi across the platform to the steps leading down to a tunnel that cuts across underneath the railway. he’s walking way too fast; it’s his long ass legs, you’re sure of it. it’s raining lightly outside, but the wind rakes the water across your face like shards of ice no matter which way you bow your head.

“you good?”

he’s slowed down to let you catch up - no, he’s walked back to you - despite the buffeting of the wind and the murderous droplets of water. oh, takashi. even though you’re supposedly now ‘chill’ and ‘just friends’, your stomach still does a little pirouette.

“i’m good,” you grumble. “just this weather.”

he hums in agreement, walking decidedly slower beside you as you pick your way through the crowd and down the slippery steps to the tunnel. you both breathe a simultaneous sigh of relief as you get out of the rain, brushing off the droplets from your clothes. there’s no opportunity for conversation in the crowded space but you stick close together anyway. you’re half expecting him to turn onto another corridor that leads up towards the train, but he doesn’t.

guess we’re both taking a bus again.

most people have cleared off to the trains by the time you struggle the short distance to the end of the tunnel. you take in the set of stairs soaked in rain, the biting air, and the puddles on the winding pathway up towards the road. 

“well, this is great,” you say. your shoes are going to get soaked.

and then it starts bucketing.

out of nowhere, the skies open up, and rain comes tumbling down like the sky’s reuniting with the earth as a long-lost lover. it’s deafening, and so thick you can barely see through it.

takashi elegantly strings together a set of curse words you’ve never heard in that particular order before. “why did you jinx it?”

“i did not!”

“you don’t happen to have an umbrella, do you?”

you roll your eyes. “no, i’ve just been subjecting myself to this for fun.”

“i dunno - some people enjoy that.”

“you seem to think very lowly of me.”

(“i don’t,” he says quietly.)

you eye the curtain of water plummeting from the heavens. it eyes you back. there’s nothing to it.

“well, i guess we’re just gonna have to go for it,” you say, inhaling sharply.

“huh? no, wait—”

you sprint out from under cover, and the rain hits you like a bucket of ice, instantly sticking your shirt to your skin and chilling you to the bone in a way that snatches the breath from your lungs. you tuck your chin to your chest and power up the stairs, limbs trembling. oh my god, i hate this. i’m gonna get sick. i’m literally going to die.

“wait, wait, wait—” takashi calls from behind you, yelling over the rain, and of all things he’s laughing as he catches up to you - and then suddenly the rain stops.

you look up and halt abruptly, your heart missing several beats. takashi’s shrugged his jacket off and is holding it above your heads; water streams off his hair, down his face and the contours of his body, where his white shirt has obligingly turned transparent and clings to the muscles of his torso. 

“i got you,” he says, voice low next to your ear.

his presence, his proximity, his body heat. you’re going insane. you’re going feral, blood rushing through your head and joining the thundering of the rain. thebonly ‘chill’ thing about this is the weather because it feels like the entirety of your body is alight, drowning in fire, and you have never felt so un-chill about something in your life. every nerve ending, every cell, every atom. you’re poised to implode.

“let’s run,” he offers, and you do.

you don’t know what sets you off - maybe it’s the image of how you must look, him holding the coat above your heads, you with your face scrunched up, heads bowed against the rain as you sprint up the slope - but once you start laughing, neither of you can stop, even when you reach the shelter of the bus stop. you collapse into the side of the stop, struggling to catch your breath. 

“it’s really not that funny,” he gasps.

“it kinda is,” you return - but your laughter dissolves fairly rapidly into coughs as the wind suddenly picks up with a passion. you shiver, arms uselessly wrapping around yourself in an attempt to save your dignity (wet, clinging shirt) and possibly your life (freezing to death).

takashi’s positioned between you and the wind - not by design, you’re sure - but it’s not helping much either way. you shudder again and hunch forward, a stray gust blowing rain into your face. as you blink the water from your eyes, you feel a heavy weight drape over your shoulders.

“takashi, i’m fine—”

“you’re obviously not, so just - don’t,” he says amusedly as he pulls his coat tighter around you, and you try not to think about his hands on you, or the way his scent and warmth envelops you.

he’s focused on adjusting the collar around your neck with careful precision, so you have ample time to study the droplets clinging to his eyelashes, the locks of wet hair falling into his eyes, his flushed cheekbones, the slope of his nose and jut of his chin, his lips—

“when’s the next bus?” you blurt, tearing your gaze away. get it together.

he glances up over your shoulder, leaning forward a bit. “um. twelve minutes.”

“what?” you say, hoping you misheard over the rain. 

“twelve minutes.”

oh, good lord.

“i’m going to die,” you say, horrified. “i can’t survive another twelve minutes in this.”

“doesn’t look like we have a choice,” he says grimly.

there’s a moment of quiet dismay. 

“well!” he says, with an attempt at cheeriness. “since we’re captive here, i might as well bounce off a couple of ideas for that project with you, if you don’t mind.” 

“i’d love that,” you say miserably. 

luckily for you, it’s genuinely interesting. takashi’s not the type to stay silent about things that matter to him - something you were quick to realise after working with him last year - and that extends to what he creates. his current project’s focused on sharp cuts, statement pieces, and blaring, accusing colours - red, green, black, white. 

“political fashion,” he tells you. “clothes that really say something.”

unfortunately for takashi, his professors aren’t too pleased with what he does have to say, and he’s ruffled more than a few feathers in his department. characteristically, it only spurs him on to do more. say more. go bigger. he's sweet, but he doesn't take things lying down either. 

“to be honest, i don't even know if they'll let me submit this one,” he says frankly. “but i'm gonna make a fuss either way.”

it certainly helps that he’s a genius with fabrics and cuts and shape language, and after some convincing, he shows you a few of his finished pieces on his phone as you huddle together, unsuccessfully shielding the screen from the rain. 

“you’re going to go big,” you tell him. “you've already won a few competitions, right? it's only a matter of time before people take notice.”

“i hope so,” he says. “i'm definitely going to do my best.”

you don't doubt him for a second. 

the white noise of rain fills the brief silence between you as another load of people trickle in to join you underneath the meagre protection of the shelter. takashi opens his mouth, closes it; considers you for a moment, head tilted, and then the words rush out.

“y'know, i really think you should model for me sometime.”

“oh, of course,” you say sarcastically, laughing it off, until he holds your gaze for a moment and you realise he’s being serious. dead serious. you've never backtracked so fast in your life. “oh, no, i don't think i'll look good in—”

the words spill out of his mouth, one after the other. “that's literally my job. and you'd probably look good in a trash bag so there's nothing to worry about. i have to work on my fashion photography anyway. might as well be with someone pretty.”

your heart stutters, stops, restarts. you must’ve misheard him over the rain - not one, but two compliments.

“what was - huh?”

his ears are flushed, probably from the cold. “i said, might as well be with someone who works pretty good with me.”

“oh. yeah. i’ll consider it.”

you really shouldn’t be getting your hopes up this easily. pretty? really? (though he undeniably did say you'd look good in a trash bag. surely he was just being polite.)

the rain’s lessened a bit over the course of your conversation, but it decides to pick up again with a vengeance, as if it's got something to prove. you've never been out in weather like this. there's no build up; it's coming down so hard and fast that the road in front of you, completely devoid of the bus that should be here soon, starts looking more like a river. the wind buffets the rain along the surface of the asphalt in wild patterns. 

“this is insane,” takashi yells through the downpour.

you pull a face at him in agreement due to lack of faith in your vocal projection skills, feeling goosebumps settle over your skin despite the weight of takashi's jacket over your shoulders. perhaps you should put your arms through it, but that feels a little pretentious, like you’re taking ownership of it. that’s girlfriend behaviour - something, horrifyingly, you’re not.

the train's arrived and a steady stream of people are adding to the crowd already under the shelter, shaking out their umbrellas uselessly amidst muttered curses. you're not usually fazed this easily - but what with the lurking anxiety of the many minutes left for the bus to arrive, the horrific weather, and the crowd inexplicably crushing you, you're slowly losing it. takashi mouths an apology as someone shoulders past and shoves him backwards, his side knocking into your chest, your back hitting the cold glass of the shelter.

his body. solid against yours. for a moment you're sure you've never felt so warm in your life. but the brief giddiness that courses through you is wholly overshadowed by the tight space you've been cornered into, by no fault of takashi's. the frigid air freezes your airways as you struggle to heave in another breath. it's suffocating. agonising. you need oxygen. 

and then takashi's arm lifts up to rest on the glass above your head, forcibly creating a small bubble of space around you, his body acting as a wall against the rush of people. he's got a small tattoo on his hand. a rose and stem. your eyes follow the neatly inked lines before they disappear out of your line of vision.

you exhale. 

“you okay?” 

when you look up at him you realise your faces are mere inches apart.

you can feel his breath fanning on your face, the warmth radiating from his body, count each droplet of rain on his eyelashes. he seems to realise it at the same moment you do, eyes darting up to yours, but for some reason neither of you move.

step away, you think, but he doesn’t. and you don't. like a strange magnetism is holding you in place, gluing his eyes to yours like he can’t look away either. every nerve ending in your body is firing, locking your knees; you're trembling. that stupid song's rotating just one verse around and around in your head—

and gettin' caught in the rain

you're sure he can hear your heartbeat even over the rain with the way it's thundering in your ears. his body frames yours against the shelter, trails of water dripping from his hair to trace his face, from the rise of his brow to the curve of his cheek to his lips, slightly parted as his breath comes out in uneven puffs—

don't goddamn look at his lips, idiot, but your brain's caught up a moment too late. your face burns as you wrench your gaze back up to his eyes. surely he didn't notice, right? but the look on his face steals the air from your lungs all over again. his pupils are dilated; eyes wide, uncertain as they hold yours, flickering, wanting, but even so it feels inevitable when his gaze unmistakably drops to your lips. oh, god help me. it's taking every ounce of self control to not surge forward and close the gap between you and jump his bones, but it feels like you're barrelling towards that anyway. his face and neck are flushed, eyes hooded. the space between you has shrunk even further; your lips part, his head tilts, your lashes flutter, and the bus pulls up at the stop in a shower of puddles.

“oh,” you say stupidly. “the bus.”

“yeah. the bus.” 

it’s a small comfort that he seems even more dazed than you. he’s just - standing there. in the middle of a late summer storm. staring at you like you’re the only thing in the world. and it’s flattering and your heart is still galloping in your chest and once you get home you’re going to half-believe you hallucinated this entire thing (because there is no fricking way you nearly kissed takashi fricking mitsuya in the rain - what is this, a romcom?) but you really do need to actually get home in the first place.

“i should—”

“the bus,” he says again, and comes to his senses enough to move backwards a little - to drop his arm from above your head and twist his torso away, giving you as much space as he can. “you should get on the bus.”

“i will. i am.” you’re focused on maintaining basic dignity as your arm presses firmly against the warmth of his chest in your attempt to squeeze past him. you’re getting on the bus, and then you’re crashing out. 

you blame the delay on your takashi-induced brain freeze, but it’s only once you’re free of the crowd and one step away from boarding the bus that you realise what’s wrong - he’s not behind you.

you twist around, coat swinging on your shoulders. “you coming?”

“oh, no, i’m taking the train to a friend’s house,” he calls back. you open your mouth to protest but he’s already adding, “the next one’s in two minutes; i’ll be okay.”

he’s taking the train. he’s taking the train? so he was waiting with you this whole time just for you? he chose to be outside in this ghastly weather when he could’ve been halfway home by now?

“any reason why yer floodin’ my bus?” the bus driver barks irritably, and you register the unfortunate fact that you’ve been standing stock still in the doorway like a fool as the rain washes rivlets of mud down the steps around your sodden shoes.

takashi looks a bit too amused as you blunder out an apology and stumble onto the bus, head entirely muddled. there’s barely standing space left, let alone any seats, so you’re resigned to being suffocated between a crush of drenched and irritated people. and it’s only after the bus pulls out of the station - after takashi gives you a smile goodbye before ducking back out into the rain again - after you twist your head to watch his figure receding into the distance until he’s inevitably blocked from your view - that you realise his coat still hangs from your shoulders.

[instagram: (4) messages from mitsuya_tkshi]

takashi :) (19:14) home yet? (19:14) warm? (19:14) dry? (19:14) alive?

you (19:22) what level of double texting is this

takashi :)  (19:22) using simple arithmetic id say prob lvl 2

you you reacted :thumbs-down: to ‘using simple arithmeti…’  (19:23) i got home 10 mins ago, hby?

takashi :)  (19:23) still in train ���

you  (19:23) free u omg  (19:24) also i just realised i still have ur coat im so sorry i didnt give it back 😭 completely slipped my mind (19:24) i was a bit all over the place

takashi :)  (19:24) dw, me too (19:26) i’ll be on campus tmrw we can get lunch too ☺️

you  (19:30) sounds good!

takashi :) (19:32) !!!!!

you  (19:32) !!!!!!!!!!!!!

takashi :) (19:32) !!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!@#$z5ty

you (19:32) ???

takashi :) (19:33) ?? who knows. (19:34) see u tmrw then :))  (19:34) and u can get back to me about the modelling too if you’ve thought abt it 

you  (19:35) oh nah there’s not much to think about, i’d love to

takashi :)  (19:35) !!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

you  (19:35) stop. (19:35) (!!!!!!!!!!!!) 

you stare at the screen for a few moments longer until it becomes clear that the conversation’s over, at least for now. you need a hot shower, and you really need to lock in on a lab report, but there’s only one thing on your mind right now. you put down your phone, bury your face in your hands, and - finally - crash out.

takashi fricking mitsuya might certainly be nice to everyone, but something tells you that a near-kiss in the rain is probably a bit more than just friendly - and not only that, but rather than ignoring you for the rest of the semester, he actually wants to see you tomorrow?

maybe you’re not insane. maybe you weren’t hallucinating. maybe you weren’t reading into things.

maybe you do have a chance.

i've got to meet you by tomorrow noon / and cut through all this red tape / [...] you're the lady i've looked for / come with me and escape

in my head they're very chill at lunch very nonchalant the whole jazz, but things get a lil, y'know, when he offers to show you what you'll be modelling for him...

based entirely on very real occurrences in my life

general taglist open - leave a comment or ask !! @revyuu @fushiguruuzzzz

© rfyu. all rights reserved. do not copy, translate, repost, or feed my work into ai.

[jazeswhbhaven]

An Unslighty Guy| React| Final Days!

I got rid of the spoiler alert unless there's new folks comin' in after this event is over so if you are a new WHB player, welcome but also this is very end of the event so you might get confused. Peep the other posts first! (sorry I don't have a direct link ;w; my masterlist is still WIP)

Anyways ya'll the event is finally over, and the ending of Amy and Sitri's banter fueled dynamic has filled our brains with comedy and memories of when we first saw this blue haired passive aggressive beauty queen. (yes Sitri...that's what you are)

Let's jump right in

So we left off where Sitri pretty much stirred the pot because Amy unknowingly spat in his direction just because. Literally no reason. And Sitri even mentions that Amy's movements and style of fighting reminded him of his old self (??? we're probably gonna see more of that in Satan's backstory)

Andddd he just kicks him in the head and it knocks him out cold. Everyone is like? Wait what?

And I'm like damn Sitri are those steel toe thigh high boots like what is going on?

Poor Amy lmao

And Sitri didn't even pick him up and put him somewhere properly he literally just nudged him with his foot like trash like....Leviathan written ALL over this behavior foreal

But the devils of Gehenna's military respect him though thinking he's scary for being so sweet one second and then violent the next. I think that's just how it goes when you study in Hades lol

Also, that incident seems to have whipped Amy into shape. On top of being more approachable and getting more friends around him. I think this is cute to see because perhaps that cocky "no one can touch me" behavior was really turning everyone off.

And the constant fights were good for him too, like he just saw it as a means to get stronger and move up the ranks so he could simply just beat Sitri and be on his level or HIGHER.

Now Amy, if you came bustin' in my office like you ain't got no damn sense I'm throwing my sandal at you. Open that door, walk in and threaten me properly thanks.

like you pay bills in this house to be slammin' doors

Anyways lol

But Sitri isn't there, to which Amy's first thought was like "Is he taking a dump or something?" and I'm like well this answered my long question of if demons in this universe actually go to the bathroom or not or if all of their waste is just yeeted into the void.

I digress...

Though he can't challenge Sitri, he does notice that something isn't right and he can see it from Sitri's office. He jumps in his motorcycle he got because Satan has one lol and then makes it to the location where he senses the danger

Well shit!

Sitri is covered in blood and Amy is even calling out to him but his hearing got fucked up. (Like think about how loud something has to be to damage a devil's hearing...our ears would be permanently damaged)

And the angel that attacked the center was a Cherub, not sure which one because they didn't say exactly...but apparently they caught Sitri off guard so badly it even made Amy realize that Sitri has moments like him too.

Amy though is accessing the scene and remembering what it is that Sitri told him during training.

And like I get it, Amy. But the reason that even works for Satan is because his unpredictable movements of combat and strategy is what the angels hate the most. And he's pretty fucking fast. (lore wise in battles though....equip that artifact ya'll lol)

I would personally say in power standing, Satan lacks overall strength compared to Mammon, but he has the stamina and bloodlust that pushes him to the absolute limit. And though we don't get many action scenes in the stories, I pretty much get that just by his mannerisms.

But anyways

Since Amy wasn't full of that brute strength he uses what Amy taught him and wonders why Sitri is even bothering to protect the building instead of hiding inside of it. But that's when he realizes that there's devil's INSIDE that he's protecting.

Good Sitri.

But he also tells Amy to leave, and while he's mean and rude to him often he's still protecting Amy just as he would any other devil.

Awh the bab. Yes. Even you, ball of fury devil energy

AND BOOM Amy jumps at the angel to attack suddenly. Most definitely after screaming "you're an asshole" which I thought was originally toward Sitri (maybe it is lmao)

And though this random attack got Amy slashed in the stomach it gave Sitri enough time to react and attack the angel with the Iron Maiden. The angel dies, and Amy falls into his arms to much his disdain...like ya'll he was not havin' it lol

Awh don't laugh too hard babes you're going to rip your wound open even more

Sitri tells him he was being stupid, but no no let's not discredit this devil!

Ngl, he did exactly what he said lmao like Sitri cannot deny that helped him and actually worked.

Sitri ofc doesn't even admit that he was right, he was just pissed that he was lol The devils that were trapped are safe now though and Amy has to be rushed to the hospital.

See? Lol like all he can think about is how he hates the fact that Amy is what Gehenna's army needs. He hates him, but damn ain't he great.

As if he'll ever fucking admit that though.

Since his hearing works properly now he's annoyed that he can hear everyone talk about him and Amy "getting along" and he can still hear Amy's heartbeat even though he's not there anymore (i know what ya'll are)

Anyways it's few days later and Amy is discharged from the hospital! It's so cute that his subordinates were waiting for him.

So they head on to the pub for a drink!

So while they're having a good time, one of his subordinates is praising Sitri and Amy is like "he's an asshole though wow." and well-

LOL

Amy being like "okay but I meant that shit" standing ten toes down

hahaha

And the manager announces that there was all you can eat paid for buffet for the group and everyone is like OH HECK THANKS CAP :D and Amy is like

Aye now I'm broke.....lmaooo

Amy was about to set the record straight but then he notices something

Oh...a pepper bowl? Well turns out that's Amy's favorite dish.

So it was Sitri that paid for the food (big spenda) but no one really cares or even hears the manager and just starts eating

I KNOW WHAT YA'LL ARE

And his little pouty self ate it too. Over every other dish.

They aren't beating the allegations. They are secretly in love your honor.

BUT THATS IT FOLKS. That's the entire event from beginning to end. After watching all of the parts together it really wasn't that long of a story but ya know PB is splitting it up now because we keep finishing the events in one day lmao

This was cute and semi-lore fun event. Cute chibi CGs, us seeing just how much of a bad bitch Sitri was after coming back from Hades...though it did seem more Sitri heavy than it was Amy? I like feel as if we didn't get much of him at all.

Like...is he born and raised in Gehenna or did he come from another country during Satan's enlisting travels? Was he always alone? Does he have parents? Siblings? All we knew is that he was a punk, got humbled by Sitri and now has this beef with him that will go until the end of time.

Perhaps I'm askin' for too much lol but I mean I guess that's what fanfic is for if I ever wanna give him lore myself.

Otherwise, how did ya'll enjoy this event? Worth the wait or would you have rather just finished it all at once and called it a day lol.

As always thanks for reading, tuning in and I'll see ya'll on the next react of whatever I put out! <3

[monstersandmaw]

Hello friends! Surprise!! Another WIP for you of Demon's story. I know you wanted Oats the dad-bod kelpie too, and I promise he's not been forgotten about, but Demon's story is written up to Chapter Four at this point, so I figured I'd spend a couple of hours editing this for you tonight, and post it on Patreon as a WIP. 

I really hope you enjoy this - I think it's one of my favourite things I've ever written, and it's dedicated to everyone who has wished for their own demon (or equivalent!) to come and be their fake romantic partner to get them out of an awkward ex situation... You're seen...!

Content: pining, hiding in a bathroom to avoid an awkward encounter with an ex, fake boyfriends trope, and lots of fluff. Seriously, watch your teeth, folks. It's sweet. We also meet Coco and Țepeș a bit, and there are some other cameos from the Full Moon Motorcycles gang!

Wordcount: 6470 (!)

Chapter One (WIP) here

Demon needn’t have worried about his Ducati.

By the time he’d done a U-turn, reached the t-junction at the end of Grosvenor Street, and turned right, the bike’s familiar roar splintered the peace of the night loudly enough to set off two car alarms as he passed, and he laughed, leaning lower and sending the bike practically flying. Either he’d left the spell's radius of influence, or the witch had relented. Either way, he was relieved that the others wouldn’t have to know about his feisty little witch just yet. After the shit he’d said to both Pumpkin and Țepeș about their getting involved with a human though, he knew he deserved it.

As his mind followed the path of those thoughts, he shook his head like he was trying to shake raindrops off the visor. That feisty little witch was not his. He didn’t even know the witch’s damned name, nor did he want to.

Except…

… he did.

He wanted that witch’s name in his mouth; in his head.

Yes, he wanted to know him, but Demon also ached to know the intimate feel of the witch’s magic, and maybe even to have it drew on his own. Witches took all sorts of familiars to regulate and manage their magic, and some even took demons…

Maybe — no.

Fuck.

No.

He knew what that kind of yoke felt like, and he had fought every day to keep humans’ attention off him precisely because of it. But that yoke had been slotted unwillingly over him before. What if this time he wanted it?

No.

Fuck. No.

The Ducati screamed beneath him and he realised he’d hit neutral instead of second like a fucking noob. He ground his teeth and focused on the bike and on the road.

He had planned to go back to Full Moon Motorcycles to see if any of the others were around — some, like Pumpkin and Barbie, didn’t really sleep, after all — but instead he took the motorway away from town, and rode until the pastel wash of dawn lit up the sky behind the nearby rolling hills.

If that pink hue was almost the exact colour of his witch’s rosebud mouth, he’d soon be turning his back on it to ride home anyway.

A week passed, and Demon’s mood was tangibly so much worse than usual over those next seven days that Țepeș finally punched him on the shoulder to get his attention as they drew their two Ducatis up beside each other outside Hank’s shop.

As the vampire’s gloved hand connected none-too-gently with his right shoulder, Demon snarled openly at him, rounding on his best friend and baring his teeth beneath the visor, snapping like a cornered dog. He felt like a cornered dog, though it wasn’t anyone’s fault but his.

Adi tactfully took her leave of the pair of them, the delicate little human sliding off Țepeș’ pillion seat and kissing his shoulder as she passed. “I’ll see you inside?” she asked, and the vampire nodded.

Țepeș didn’t usually join them for morning rides, given how lethally dangerous the sunlight was to him, but Adi was there, and if Adi wanted Țepeș to be somewhere, there he was. It was nauseating. For a former SAS solider who was built like a brick shithouse, Țepeș was undeniably soft and squishy beneath all that protective leather now. Certainly where Adi was concerned anyway. They’d just been lucky that Adi was cool with a group of bikers full of non-humans. Demon was sure that Țepeș was feeding from her now and again too, which was a whole new level of intimacy and trust that he couldn’t quite fathom.

Țepeș jerked his helmeted head upwards in a ‘what’s going on with you?’ gesture and spread his hands to drive the question home. He also directed his helmet pointedly at the pillion seat which was still very much in evidence on a bike which had never once seen a passenger in the entire time Demon had been riding with Hank’s crew at Full Moon Motorcycles.

The sparking, skittering unease that had been crackling around inside Demon like lightning for seven whole days now threatened to come roaring out of him, but he leashed it with an effort and bit it all back, breathing heavily. Țepeș didn’t deserve his petty irritation. The vampire was the closest thing he had now to a best friend, and he wasn’t about to throw it all away over some human he barely knew.

“It’s nothing,” Demon muttered into the cushioning of his helmet, but Țepeș wasn’t having any of it. When Demon made to swing his leg over his bike and stump away into the shop to avoid talking about it, Țepeș revved his bike insistently, angrily. Deafeningly. He didn't talk often, and Demon had only heard his scratchy, damaged voice a handful of times, but man, he found ways to be expressive when he needed to be.

“Let it go, Țepeș,” he said heavily, shaking his head.

Before they’d set off earlier, he’d promised Hank that he’d stay for coffee and a bit of a chat with everyone after the morning’s ride, and unfortunately, that oath now bound him as securely as a perfect chalk summoning circle. Instead, all he wanted was to get back to his apartment, shed his clothes and his glamour like snakeskin, and simply… wallow.

Read the whole thing over on Patreon on early release for just $3!! Or consider becoming a $5 and getting access to an exclusive monster romance story once every month!

[all-about-kyu]

Hi! For the WIP game, may I request Ateez and number 3? Thank you 💕

ohhhhh boyyyy this one was going to destroy people 🫠

Summary: You’ve always ridden your motorcycle with your brother and his best friend since the moment you had your license. When your brother isn’t around, though, maybe you’ll ride something else. Pairing: Jongho x fem!reader Tropes: brother’s best friend au Genre: smut Rating: R 18+ Active Warnings: language Prospective Warnings: unprotected sex, dirty talk, possessive pet names (mine, my) Word Count (at abandonment): 516

Other Attic Items

Going for rides has always been the way you and your brother have bonded. Since the moment he got his license and trusted himself to let you ride with him, Yeosang has brought you along with him. Jongho would almost always be there too. He and Yeosang are two peas in a pod. Nothing could ever be bad enough to stop them from being friends. You were never really close with Jongho. Not until you also got your motorcycling license and started riding your own instead of being Yeosang’s passenger. Even now, though, Jongho doesn’t say much to you. He’s far more interested in chatting with your brother. It makes sense with him being Yeosang’s best friend.

You’re on your way to the place the three of you always meet up before going out for a ride. It’s gorgeous out, so you opt to wear something a bit more form-fitting rather than a thick jacket like you’ve had to for the past few months. Normally, you meet up with Yeosang before heading to where Jongho is likely already waiting for you. Your brother had told you to go ahead, though, since he had to wrap up a last-minute project his boss asked him to do. 

As you approach the small park, you see Jongho, but your brother is nowhere to be seen. A small noise of confusion escapes your lips before waving to the car beside you, asking if you can merge in front of them to turn into the parking lot. They let you pass, and you see Jongho wave lazily to you as you approach. He’s leaning against the worn wooden fence in front of his bike, scrolling through his phone. Despite the warm weather, he’s still wearing his black leather jacket and a pair of black jeans. He’ll always say he’s not too hot in that ensemble, but you know he must be dying slightly due to the sun beating down on him. Your bike rumbles smoothly as you park it beside Jongho’s. 

“Where’s Yeosang?” you question as you place your helmet on one of the handles.

“Damn, am I not exciting enough for you?” Jongho teases, not looking up from his phone.

“No, no, it’s not that.” you explain, “I just expected him to already be here too.”

Jongho finally looks at you. His eyes scan your body for a second before refocusing on your face.

“He told me he couldn’t make it. The project his lazy boss gave him is probably going to take him all day. Do you still wanna ride?”

“Y- yeah, do you have a specific place in mind?”

“Not really, let’s just see where we end up wandering off to.” he smiles lightly.

You always talk to people on your rides. Strangers next to you more often than not. You know, people tend to be more careful driving around you due to how exposed your vehicle is. That just gives you more opportunity to have a friendly chat, though. Jongho is currently ahead of you and a lane over. You’re simply following his lead through this ride.

[henrike-does-writing-sometimes]

The Reset

The last loop didn’t end well, leading to Asher having to face the Keeper all alone

I’ve finished the first version of the second draft, and as a little treat, I decided to post the new prologue ! I discovered that the old one basically ruined the whole mystery and horror aspects of the story, I also like this version much more lol

Enjoy~

Word count: 1260

Warnings: Blood, Injuries (no graphic descriptions), Death, Emotional manipulation, Psychological abuse

Wip: To The End, Set directly after their first attempt to escape the loop 

Characters: Asher Chiu, Others mentioned

: Taglist - @vacantgodling @waysofink @zonnemaagd @chazzawrites ​ @strangerays @drippingmoon @azuwrites ​ @drbibliophile​ @goldenzingy46​ @holyatlas​ :

Let me know if you want to be added/removed !

//

“Damn it!” Asher hissed through clenched teeth. His vision was starting to blur as tears continued to build. He willed himself to hold them back, in spite of the agonizing burn. He had to keep himself together, he had to keep trying. Even if he ended up suffocating, carnal desperation screamed for him to focus. 

Somewhere a bird sarenaded the solemn night, the only thing asuring Asher that he was indeed awake. That this was indeed reality. That he had failed. Had lost control of the motorcycle and failed. The vehicle rested somewhere on the desolate road. Unrecognizable, unsalvageable. Just like many other things keeping them company. 

The air was cold, biting at his exposed and vulnerable skin. Clawing at every cut it could reach. Asher’s only source of warmth was the blood coating his already numb hands. They were pressed with every last bit of his strength against the wound on Thea’s chest.

“Thea!” he called out. “Motherfucker, answer me!” his voice broke. Straining his spent vocal cords even further. It was a surprise he had any voice left at all. He’d been screaming like a madman, begged on his knees for Thea to respond. Even if he knew she wouldn’t, he still held on —To that faintest sign of movement, that weak sound of life from his best friend. Held on for dear life that the universe would be kind just this one last time. An innocent wish that everything would be fine.

“ANSWER ME!” Asher demanded, pushing harder against the wound in a frail attempt to stop the bleeding. 

“Please!” the burn in his eyes seized. Tears winning, breaking down his every defense before falling down his cheeks. Washing away the last of his energy. Asher’s tense body involuntarily went limp, hands resting defeated over the wound. The warm blood taunting him. 

“Please,” he sobbed. “Come back to me.”

His plea wasn't just for Thea, but he didn’t dare look up at the others. He’d caught a glimpse of them when he’d regained consciousness, and could properly take in the scene they’d ended up in. He had seen Eric’s mutilated legs and Samir’s bashed in head. Had called out with no response as he tried not to throw up at the sight of blood and bone. 

“That’s quite the mess you’ve got there.” a sudden voice spoke up behind him. Ethereal, and familiar in a way that made Asher turn cold. 

“Leave.” he cringed at his voice; Broken and thick with tears. 

“But I just arrived.” the Keeper said. The impossible entity had taken a stance before him. It’s silk fabrics of gold cascading around him. Asher refused to look at it. “And you look like you could use some help.” there was a chime of sincerity in its voice, one Asher could not deny. But it only made him nauseous. 

“I don’t want your help.”

“You have yet to learn what help I’m offering-” “I don’t fucking care!” Asher clenched his fists, ignoring the disgusting feeling of blood being squished in his palms. “You don’t want to help me! You only want me to be apart of your twisted game! I don’t want to play, I won’t!”

Silence. Then he felt it. The Keeper's presence mare inches before his face. Unintelligible eyes observing him like no animal or human ever could. Like it knew everything. The only thing familiar about the Keeper’s imitation of the human body were the hands. They could’ve fooled anyone who didn’t know better. Could mesmerize them with smooth and rosy pale skin. Asher knew better, and only felt disgust as it reached out to tenderly grab his own. Its power forcing his fists to unravel— to reveal the skin. Scarred and covered in blood. 

“Oh you poor, darling thing.” it hummed, moving one hand to cup Asher’s cheek. Tilting his head to look at it. And when he tried to turn away the other hand found his other cheek, and Asher was trapped. Held captive in the gentle touch of malevolence. Forced to stare up at the Keeper and its failed recreation of a human face. A resident of the uncanny valley, an expressionless wax doll. The Keeper let its eyes wander over Asher's face in dreadful silence. As if meticulously counting his every freckle and mole, measuring his scars and cuts, or memorizing the color of his bruises. 

“It is not their time yet,” it finally spoke softly. “You know it too.” Asher’s breath hitched. 

‘Don’t do this to me.’ he begged the universe. 

“Why not make this right again?” the Keeper said, swiping their thumbs under Asher’s eyes. Catching his fresh tears. “Why don’t we fix this, and then you can all go home?”

“I can’t.” Asher choked. He knew what it meant, knew what would happen. It was inevitable at this point, nothing he did would change that. A fight against the Keepers was a fight already lost. But Asher wasn’t known for giving up, even if there was no way for him to win. 

“You can’t?” the Keeper echoed. “Oh but you can. I know it.”

“Shut up.” voice raspy with tire, Asher squeezed his eyes shut. Hunted by the golden light. 

“Do you really not want them back?” its voice became louder. Silencing every other noise of the night kingdom. Becoming the only sound in the entire universe. “Is this the life you wish to live? All alone in a world not meant for you? Where all you can do is wander aimlessly, knowing you’ll never be enough. That you’ve scared away the last person who’d ever love you. Because why would anyone love or even care about someone like you? But they did, did they not? Despite it all, did they not care for you? Would you not wish to have them with you?” 

Each word only became louder and louder, pounding against Asher’s ears. And all he could do was sob.

The hands holding his face had begun to burn, leaving nasty marks on his already frail and broken skin. Gold had taken over everything around him, as the Keeper went on and on and on. Running Asher dry, lost in delusional thoughts and pleas to end the tournament. 

It would be fine for a while, he remembered it. A few weeks of calm, where everything was like it should. Where they didn’t have to worry about running out of time, or reality ripping apart, or being watched. A few weeks where everything was normal. He could do it all again, couldn’t he?

“Don’t you want them back?” the Keeper asked. 

And Asher finally broke, “Yes!”

At once the world came back, and Asher was free from the Keeper’s grip. He gasped, breathed deep to calm his nerves and shaking body, and stop his heart’s painful pace. He felt the Keeper looming over him, awaiting his go-ahead. Asher took his time, turning his dark eyes to the horizon. The sun would rise soon, night fading into a dawn he’d never see.   

On trembling legs he stood up, still refusing to look at the entity by his side. “Give them back to me,” he pleaded, with barely any voice left. “Please.”

“It would be an honour.” the Keeper said, reaching its hand out for Asher to take. He laughed in defeat, looking down on his blood soaked hand. “Don’t hate me too much for this.” he muttered to himself. Asher than took the Keepers hand, wincing at the burn and strange feeling of ethereal energy passing through him. As his vision faded into white static.  

[dramioneasks]

HP FESTS: Dramione Double the Trouble (Part 1)

Dramione Double the Trouble 2021:

It's Hermione, Thanks by king_geets, TheLastLynx - M, WIP - The plan was this: return to Hogwarts, aim for eight O.s, move on with life. But when McGonagall summons Hermione, her co-head Justin and the other seven and eighth-year prefects for an extraordinary meeting ahead of term, she just knows the other shoe’s about to drop. And indeed: on the eve of September 1st, Hermione finds herself working to fit Draco Malfoy into her schedule. Between Ginny (who has her own schemes), Justin (whose actions becomes odder by the day), and Mandy (whom Hermione never thought of as an enemy before), will Hermione manage to retain her sanity, whilst restoring some sense of normality for once— despite Malfoy being around, day in, day out? “I must say, Granger, I’m surprised.” Draco lowered his voice; Hermione edged closer to hear what he had to say. “I never pegged you for a prude,” he whispered, and her entire body thrummed with the force of her heartbeat slamming against her chest. “I—” She licked her lips; her mouth had run completely dry. “I’m not,” she finished stubbornly, but about an octave too high. “Then how would you —how’d you phrase it?— 'Do whatever one pleases'? ” Draco pressed, still whispering. “As a good girl.”

The Watergaw by ectoheart, smokybaltic - E, 10 chapters - In the middle of a war, Hermione is stuck in the middle of nowhere. With Draco Malfoy. Without her friends, her magic, or her books, she has only her wits to rely on to survive her plight- to say nothing of her company. They've declared a truce, but somehow Draco keeps slipping past all her defences. Stranded together in the wilderness, Hermione and Draco are in for cold nights, endless snark, bad wine, and some interesting scars.

Prove Me Wrong by huffipuffy, sleepygrimm - T, 2 chapters - Two bets, five years apart. The first laid the foundation for Draco’s post-war life, and the second paid homage to the progress he’d made since. Alternatively: Theodore Nott plays matchmaker.

A Push in the Right Direction by Seakays - T, one-shot - Draco Malfoy and Hermione Granger are both successful adults. They are also idiots in love who just might need a bit of a push from their best friends. Enter Harry Potter and Theo Nott.

And he saw them dancing by Katria_Faeyero, Undead_Ahead - T, 2 chapters - He should have seen it coming when Draco's obsession with that girl became more than curiosity over her brilliance, more than hatred over her blood, more than incredulity over her damned beauty. Lucius was a smart man, and he should have seen it sooner; that every time Draco referred to her as 'Potter’s filthy little Mudblood', he was only covering up for how in love with her he was. He should have seen it, but he ignored the signs until it was too late.

Attack of the Killer Mimbulus Mimbletonia by beautyberry, bek_48 - T, one-shot - Everyone knows that a Mimbulus Mimbletonia is generally non-sentient, despite the odd occasional attempt at world domination. One such attempt occurred in the year 2007. Its ambitions were threatened by the silliest of human allies, largely thanks to an even sillier bet involving Quidditch and motorcycles. “It’s settled!” announced Potter, absorbing their withering glares with glee. “This is what you both get for disrupting work. If Hermione wins, she gets to decide the fate of Malfoy’s motorcycle. If Malfoy wins, Hermione has to go on an extremely unimpressive date with him involving said motorcycle, and he can do his dastardly best to annoy her to death. Are we agreed?”

Something Just Like This by Efinna, LeilahMoon - T, 3 chapters - - -- Written for Dramione Double the Trouble Fest --- Wiping the smile off Ron’s face by informing him that yes, she did have a date to the Yule Ball, thank you very much, would have been a flawless plan - if only it were true. So, when Draco Malfoy proposes an arrangement that might solve all her problems, she’d be mad to say no, right? - even if it does involve pretending to go as his date. But, as she gets to know him, Hermione can’t help but wonder whether she’s really still pretending. --- [The title for this work comes from ‘Something Just Like This’ by The Chainsmokers and Coldplay] ---

wherever i wander... forever i love by femme_ecrivain, srebrenakrv - M, 6 chapters - There's a Pegasus problem in the Scottish Highlands, and Magical Creatures advocate Hermione Granger is brought in to deal with it. The 'perfect opportunity to relax and have a bit of a break from her grueling workload', or so she's told. The only problem? She’ll be up there for multiple days — and nights — staying and working with Draco Malfoy. And that is something Hermione finds anything but relaxing. If only they didn’t make such a great team.

Baker's Dozen by DarkoftheMoon, Maria81 - T, one-shot - As part of the new and mandatory Muggle Studies curriculum, 8th year students are paired together for a year-long practicum in the culinary arts. If only Draco were interested in either.

Game, Set, Matched by CharliPetidei, morticiahavisham - T, one-shot - “You just said you didn’t care about winning-” Draco started. “I said I didn’t care about getting tickets to the final,” Hermione interrupted, allowing a smug grin to part her lips. “I never said I didn’t want to win.”

Draught of Dreams by eiramrelyat, sodamnrad - M, one-shot - Malfoy emerged from an alcove, blocking my path. I startled and pointed my wand at his chest. He grinned. “Going to curse me too?” “I flashed you? Is your life so small and pathetic that you see a girl’s bra and suddenly it’s Slytherin’s hot gossip?” I ask. “Do you mean to say you didn’t go gabbing to all your friends about my abs? After all that time you spent gawking at them?” Two weeks of detention force Hermione and Draco to... interact.

The Malfoy Mafioso by glossywriter, lilhawkeye3 - T, one-shot - The perfect crime wasn't the vault they’d looted, or the war they were about to end, it was what they’d stolen from one another along the way. Secret meetings and secret feelings, a bank heist, a fake marriage, an engagement ring that screams of Malfoy wealth, dance lessons, and an exclusive pure-blood ball that she was not invited to. She’s ready to end the gang war and Lucius Malfoy’s reign. There’s only one problem — his son has a secret agenda that complicates everything.

Remind me never to fall in love by abrilas, LittleIvy - M, one-shot - Draco is in love with Hermione Granger. Theodore Nott is infatuated with Hermione Granger, and finds himself devastated when he catches her and Draco snogging in a quiet corner during a fundraising gala. Blaise, bless his emotionally constipated heart, is trying to comfort Draco when Hermione inexplicably goes missing. And then there's Luna, who floats into Theo's life right when he needs her.

Draco's Body by doodleladi, MistressLynn - E, one-shot - The war rages on and changed Draco into something evil. A one shot written for the Double the Trouble fest with anonymous author/artist pairings.

At A Glance by Elle_Morgan_Black, Shastuhh - G, one-shot - “I want to learn about you and father now, and I don’t want to hear about it from some teacher.” Freyja looked over her shoulder exasperatedly. “Mother, will you tell me about how you two met? I would rather hear it from you and Father than that boring Professor Binns.” With a small, crooked smile, she met her mother’s hazel eyes pleadingly. That look always worked on her doting parents.

I Could Never Give You Peace by Ash_ling_ook, Maria81 - M, one-shot - Our coming-of-age has come and gone Suddenly the summer, it's clear I never had the courage of my convictions As long as danger is near And it's just around the corner, darling 'Cause it lives in me No, I could never give you peace — T-Swift When Draco Malfoy comes back to Hogwarts for his Eighth year, late night conversations and sexy strip card games with Head Girl Granger seem to be a sensible distraction — and, apparently, just the antidote for healing hearts and souls after the war.

Corrupted by dragonlywriting, Kyonomiko - M, one-shot - Hermione is running. She's lost friends and they've nearly lost the war. All she can give to the cause is her absence. It seems the Death Eaters are targeting her specifically.

Bleeds To Grey by Ash_ling_ook, Eternallyreadinggoodthings - E, 6 chapters - “The grey area, the place between black and white - that’s where life happens.” Justin Timberlake Hermione Granger is an Auror. Draco Malfoy is an Auror. Their perception of each other is in black and white. Swot and prat. Good and bad. All hate, no love. When Draco arrives in the department as a new Auror recruit, he and Hermione are partnered together and neither are impressed. But caught in the thick of an illegal black market potions case, their past black and white impressions of each other begin to blend into new ideals. With time and proximity (and a little teasing from friends), things take on a new shade of grey. Add a little danger, and we are off to a sexual and emotional revelation.

A Flight at Dusk by HonBuns, MidnightValkyrie - G, one-shot - The end of a war doesn't always mean the turning of the page for everyone. For Draco Malfoy, it comes later, in the form of something unexpected.

Redamancy by another_lonely_writer, mignonettes - G, one-shot - redamancy (n); the act of loving in return When Draco Malfoy agreed to help with the Parkinson-Weasley Wedding, Hermione Granger was not what he was expecting.

The Start of Forever by In_Dreams, vesperics - M, one-shot - A one night stand leads to a discovery and a connection Hermione never expected ― with the last person she could have imagined.

us alive, right here, feeling lucky by Aster_notz, malfxys - T, one-shot - Hermione Granger returns to Hogwarts after a year away in Australia. Draco Malfoy returns to Hogwarts after a year away in Azkaban. And then Hermione starts receiving anonymous packages in the mail. Alternatively: the one in which they share chocolate, and fall in love.

This fest is ongoing.

[moonlitceleste]

Elevator Love (Ch. 2)

Chapter 1

So I know it’s been a while since I posted the first chapter, but I decided to give you guys a second as a Valentine’s Day surprise!

I’m really sorry for not updating earlier; besides hating the first chapter so much that I didn’t want to continue, I’ve been really busy with school and extracurriculars, the other WIPs and hobbies I have, and recently my mental health has made a steady plummet haha.

I simultaneously have a vague idea and also absolutely no idea where this fic will go, so we’ll see! Updates will probably be few and far between because besides all the factors mentioned earlier, I’m a really, really, slow writer

Also, I wrote the last chunk of this chapter 1AM last night, so sorry if it’s not coherent askjdhsj

Ages are as follows (it’s been so long since I wrote the first chapter that I forgot what I initially planned them to be so...)

Alfred: ∞ Bruce: 37 Babs: 30 Dick: 27 Cass: 22 Jason: 22 Duke: 20 Tim: 20 Marinette: 19 Damian: 13

Warning: some profanity/cursing ahead!

-

The heavy metal door to Bruce’s office knocked against the wall with a bang as Jason kicked it open with the toes of his worn black boots.

“What,” he grunted, not even waiting for the older to speak first.

Sure, maybe his unprovoked attitude was a little much, but Jason couldn’t help his annoyance.

Just hours before, he was preparing to settle into his favorite plush beanbag and read (well, reread) The Count of Monte Cristo. After a long week of crime-fighting, nothing sounded better than relaxing next to a crackling fire and getting lost in the pages of his favorite book.

But of course, as soon as he decided to unwind, his phone rang with the obnoxious tune of “Jingle Bells, Batman smells!”

Babs had installed the ringtone as a Christmas prank, reinforced with some advanced encryption she had come up with.

Jason could change it if he wanted to—he wasn’t stupid—but Babs was a tech whiz, and it would take more effort than he wanted to spend. Besides, he didn’t want to give her the satisfaction of seeing him struggle.

After the jingle abruptly breached his bubble of tranquility, Jason grudgingly picked up his phone.

He was immediately met with Bruce’s gruff voice and barely had time to process the words that filtered through before the triple beep that signified the end of the call sounded.

What the fuck?

Jason groaned in frustration and ran a hand through his black locks, ruffling the hair at the back of his head.

First Bruce called him without warning, demanded he meet him in his office, and proceeded to hang up without leaving him room to talk?

Fucking rude.

Why could he have just texted the very short request he had to Jason instead? That way he could just ignore it and pretend he didn’t see it.

It’s not like he had to oblige—he wasn’t a fucking lapdog, thank you very much—but if he didn’t, Bruce would come up with some inane punishment, like making him babysit Damian.

He didn’t hate the kid or anything, but Jason would rather not have to deal with a hormonal boy in the midst of puberty.

So he set down his book, threw on his leather jacket, and crusaded through the shitty Gotham streets on his motorcycle.

Wayne Enterprises was just as pristine as it was his last visit, with glossy gray-black floors and glass that stretched from ceiling to floor, so clean it sparkled.

Jason passed through easily enough, though not without being spared a few glances that varied from shock to suspicion.

The double-takes weren’t unexpected, what with his being the son of their boss and all, and the suspicious glances from those who didn’t recognize him weren’t exactly unwarranted.

He knew his leather-jacket, combat-boot wearing self looked laughably out-of-place compared to everyone else.

Jason ignored the looks, a habit that had quickly become second nature the moment he went from street kid to ‘street kid with a roof over his head.’

The elevator was thankfully vacant, and as the doors started to close, he shot a quick thanks to the universe that no one else had decided to get on.

Perhaps this was a mistake, because less than a second later he heard a high-pitched voice shout “Wait!”

Jason sighed disappointedly and pressed the button that would open the doors.

He might not have been in the mood for company, but he wasn’t an asshole.

...Okay, whatever. He wasn’t a total asshole.

The girl ran into the elevator after a short while, cheeks flushed from running.

As she stuttered out a thanks, Jason subtly observed her.

She looked a little young to be working at Wayne Enterprises, and her outfit looked much more “picnic date” than it did the formal attire most wore.

There were only a few around her age that worked at WE, none of which whose significant other would have an access card to the building (other than Tim, that is, but there was no way the Replacement had a girlfriend.)

Maybe she was a daughter of one of the employees, then.

The elevator space soon filled up with boxes, and they were forced to do an awkward shuffle to compensate.

A minute later, the girl was unceremoniously shoved into him.

The sweet smell of vanilla and strawberries—subtle yet perceptible—hit his nose, and Jason glanced down.

He could really only see the top of the girl’s head due to their proximity, but her body language screamed discomfort.

So he backed himself up into the elevator wall as much as he possibly could, whispering a sorry and cursing his tall build all the while.

She was admittedly cute, but he’d be damned if he was the prick who pressed himself up against girls without their enthusiastic consent.

The ride was spent with bated breath, and one elevator stop later, Jason found himself walking to Bruce’s office and kicking in the door.

There was a brief silence as it swung back and forth from the momentum; the older simply sighed tiredly and gestured to the chair across from him.

“Have a seat.”

Jason glanced at the black office chair, then at the door as if he were about to suddenly bolt, and then back at the chair. He seemed to think the better of making a hasty escape and grudgingly walked forward, though not without rolling his eyes.

So fucking dramatic.

“What,” he repeated once he had sat himself down.

Bruce just stared at him, hands in a steeple position. It was no doubt an intimidation move; he had seen Batman use the same on Arkham villains.

Jason met his gaze unflinchingly. If he wanted a staring contest, that’s what he’d get.

“Tim has a…friend coming over.”

The silence was broken with slow words, spoken in an almost careful manner.

“Okay. Why’d you have to call me here to tell me that?”

Blunt and to-the-point as always.

“I’m an adult, Bruce. I don’t need a lecture about being on my best behavior. Damian might, though,” he added as an afterthought.

Bruce sighed again and wow was he was doing a lot of sighing today. He really was melodramatic.

“I wasn’t going to lecture you, Jason. I just wanted you to know so you could be prepared.”

“Oh.”

The silence was palpable as an air of awkwardness settled around the two, and Jason sat there fighting the urge to shift in his seat before speaking.

“So is that it?”

“Yes.”

He stood abruptly at the dismissal, pushing in his chair as if he couldn’t wait to get out of there. Well, he did want to get out of there.

With one hand he smoothly opened the heavy door, prepared to leave, but he stopped in his tracks when Bruce spoke once more.

“Jason?”

“What?” he asked, with considerably less annoyance than the first two times.

“...I’m proud of you, lad.”

Jason tried to suppress his shock at the statement, but he wouldn’t be surprised if his facial expression betrayed him.

Despite the somewhat-steady in their family dynamics the past few years, they were still an emotionally constipated bunch.

Jason couldn’t remember the last time someone said those words to him; they meant more to him than he’d reveal.

But because he was a part of the emotionally constipated Wayne family, he settled for an offhand “Yeah, yeah,” before closing the door and walking out.

There was a ghost of a smile on his lips, and the warmth in his heart was one he hadn’t felt in a while, but he could deal with all those emotions later—for now, he had a book to get to.

PERMANENT TAGLIST @avengerthewarrior *@bluesimani @enternalempires @flower-girll @freesportspalacesalad @glastwime859 @h1sss @heart-charming @jalaluvsu @kitsunebell @maskedpainter @moongoddesskiana @nathleigh @too0bsessedformyowngood

ELEVATOR LOVE TAGLIST *@bluesimani @buginetye @bumblebeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeee @ichigorose @iloontjeboontje @laurcad123 @moonlightstar64 @roguishredaxion

[pogaytosalad]

Heres a wip of a sequel.

Dmviolence, by jade

Hello, if youre hearing this, it probably means im dead. Either that, or im alive and just got tired of keeping this hidden. You might remember my voice from a previous recording about a takeover in sector ⬽:➻, in which id helped prevent total annihilation of the sector. At the time i was unnamed, however now you may call me Kalton. After the takeover i resigned and moved to a job at a dmv. This planet was, for some reason, in one of the most tactically advantageous locations in the galaxy. And for some reason the higher ups dedicated the whole damn planet to dmvs. Dont ask why. Now, onto the story.

I woke up, and i put on my emerald green contact lenses. Just like any other day. I put on a basic white t-shirt and a leather bomber jacket along with a pair of jean shorts. If you cant tell by now, im gay.

I live in a small apartment. By small apartment i mean a bedroom, a bathroom and a kitchen all crammed into 2 rooms. I hopped out the bedroom window onto my motorcycle. It was a diamond white motorcycle with deep red stripes along the sides and the handlebars. My pride and joy. I put on my jet black helmet and took off towards my job at the, you guessed it, dmv.

Chapter 2

I pulled up in the parking lot and took off my helmet, my blue hair a total rats nest. The doors were push doors, yet i somehow ALWAYS pulled first. I entered the dmv and went to my station. A few hours passed by and no one had come in yet, which was unusual. So naturally i decided to sit down on the floor, put in my earbuds, and enjoyed some heavy metal. A few more hours passed by, and usually by now i wouldve been yelled at by my boss. This struck me as odd so i stood up. I really wish i hadnt stood up. The place had been completely destroyed. There were drop pods crashed in through the roof and they all had the ERGON logo on them. Ergon was a multi trillion dollar pencil manufacturing company with its own military. They had previously tried to take over sector ⬽:➻ when i had been working there. I was not looking forwards to what was about to happen.

Quickly, i ducked back onto the floor before anyone saw me. There were 4 riot soldiers holding this building. This was gonna be fun. The riot soldiers are your stereotypical riot gear and police baton soldiers. But these guys had laser batons and the riot gear gave them heightened strength and speed. They also had some, dare I say, shitty energy pistols. I crawled over to one of the soldiers who wasnt being watched and broke their neck. Carefully I took the baton and the pistol. Slowly crawled my way back to my station and checked the shot count in the pistol. I had 6 shots, just enough to take care of the remaining three soldiers. I stood up quickly and shot each soldier twice in the head. First shot to open the riot helmet, second shot to kill. I vaulted over the counter and grabbed the three pistols. These things were so stupid. You couldnt even remove the clips. Once you ran out of shots, the pistol was useless. Nonetheless, i didnt have any choice. I had a laser baton and 18 total shots in 3 pistols.

Upon leaving the building, my motorcycle was one of the few things to survive. It had alot of scratches and damage, but it still worked. The helmet was shattered however. I mounted the motorcycle and took off towards the next closest dmv. Maybe id find some better gear there.

Chapter 3

Pulling up next to the second dmv i immediately noticed 3 things. 1: there was blood everywhere. 2: there were 25 soldiers here. And 3: they all had energy weapons. The reason these things are relevant is because energy weapons dont cause bloodshed. This was the result of something else. Something new i hadnt dealt with yet.

I drove up and ran over 5 of the soldiers. This was probably an incredibly bad idea, seeing as i had 18 shots, enough for 9 kills, and there were 20 soldiers left. Every single soldier turned to me and i, being the absolute genius that i am, welded the front of one of the pistols shut with the laser baton, shot it off, and threw it into thei crowd of soldiers. It exploded, releasing a shockwave of energy and disabling the soldiers. I then used the baton to cut through the riot gear and kill the soldiers. I felt like a badass. That is until a mechanical looking wolf jumped at me and started trying to rip my face off.

The wolf was a frostwolf, except it had been placed into a mechanical frame and its teeth and claws had been replaced with lasers. I tried to bash it off of me with the baton but it just bit it in two. This gave me just enough time to grab an energy pistol and shoot the wolf. It kept trying to kill me amd i wasted a whole clip on it until suddenly, the dog started to levitate in the air and got thrown aside into a wall. I got up and was instantly frozen in place. Thats when.. she walked up.

Chapter 4

The she i am reffering to is ebony. A goth/punk wannabe with light blue tear shaped eyes and black hair with purple streaks. Shes a bitch whos mind got too powerful and now she can move things without touching them. Shes been chasing me for months. Not in a murderous way. Shes just obsessed with me. Ive tried to tell her im gay but she wont listen. And now im at her mercy.

She walked up to me and kissed me on the cheek. I hated it. She looked as if she was contemplating whether or not to free me when a pod came down from the sky and crushed her. Thank god. But i honestly wouldve rathered suffered at her hand than deal with what i had to deal with next...

Out of the pod came the warden. The goddamn warden from sector ⬽:➻. Last id seen him hed been in the same situation as ebony. Crushed to death under a pod. But this time, instead of being on my side, he was here to kill me. He was huge. Like seriously huge. He was at least 8 feet tall and shaped like gaston. Whos gaston? Nobody knows these days. But its basically a way to say "extremely buff and wide". Back to the story. The warden wasnt looking very good, considering the rotten skin, obviously quickly patched together face, and muscles hanging loose out of his skin. His rotting ruined body was held together by an exoskeleton of chromium-tungsten alloy. Nothing i had was gonna cut through that. I was gonna have to get creative here..

The warden had 2 weapons, both of them were his fists. Huge gauntlets that were each about the size of a cow. Definitely bigger than his previous set. They were a golden green metal i couldnt identify. But i didnt want to get hit with one to try and find out. I ran. I ran as fast i could run into the dmv and hid. I could hear the wardens footsteps. It was as if a small earthquake happened each time he took a step.

I peeked over the desk i was hiding behind and saw him punch through the 2 desks opposite to me. It took no effort and i couldve sworn i saw him smile. Obviously i didnt. Cause he didnt have a mouth anymore. But if he did, he definitely wouldve smiled. I took a shot to get his attention and ran off towards the wall. The warden was definitely faster than i expected.

Luckily i managed to dodge the blow by a centimeter. The metal smelled of decaying flesh and popcorn. The wardens blow punched a huge hole in the wall. I hope you see where im going with this.

I ran off to another wall and we repeated this same process a number of times until the building was barely still up. I ran out the doors and threw the baton at the last of the supports, cutting through it and causing the building to collapse in on the warden. He wasnt getting out of that. I decided to search the rubble to see if i could find anything worth taking. I found a new baton, a flame rifle and a few more energy pistols.

The flame rifle was a very interesting design. The sides were painted jet black with flame decals scattered about. You could feel the heat on the inside and it made the gun warm to the touch. Comfortable to hold. Other than that though, it looked like an old fashioned 8.59mm sniper rifle. It had 4 shots remaining, so id have to use it sparingly.

I grabbed some scrap materials out of the rubble to make a holster for it and put it on my back.

The energy pistols just dangled from a keychain. The baton was simply turned off and placed through a hole in the back pockets of my shorts. I ran to my motorcycle and drove off, i needed to find out more. I had questions, and i had a sneaking suspicion that i knew where to find the answers.

I drove off again, i was dirty and there was blood on me and my bike. I probably looked like a serial killer. But i knew that if anyone was still alive, itd be jayden. They were.. well. They were a vampire. They lived in a swampland area and wore sparkly rainbow shirts and a huge sunhat. The sunhat allowed them to go outside in the sun, and they only drank coconut water. They also had a crazy amount of weaponry and used to work at ergon, before being fired for stealing weaponry. By the way, if you havent noticed by now, im using they/them to refer to jayden. Jayden doesnt have a gender. Jayden.. is kind of my crush. It probably has something to do with the fact that theyre the only person on this planet who talks to me. Other than ebony.. but ebony is... not my type i guess. Anyways, back to jayden. Jayden was on the roof of their swamp shack drinking coconut water out of a wine glass. I yelled up at them and they fell off the roof onto my back. I guess i cushioned their fall. Jayden immediately said "What do you need dear" without waiting for me to stand up, and shattered the wine glass. I informed them of the situation and asked the questions i had. Things like "what are the ergon soldiers defences like on their ships" and "how did they reanimate the warden" they had answers.

Jayden told me about the new security measures that had been put in place since id last been on an ergon ship. There was now a code for each teleportation pod and the gaurds had doubled. As for the warden, it turns out jayden was actually the first test run in reanimation sciences, and couldnt answer me because they had been unconcious in a lab when the warden was reanimated. That explained the vampire undead thing. Jayden invited me into the shack where they pulled a nail out of the floorboards and it turned into a ramp to the basement. Down in the basement? Thats where jayden kept their weapons they stole. And boy oh boy were there some interesting ones.

One that immediately caught my attention was the big rocket launcher. It had 3 barrels and each was a different colour, indicating a different effect. One was red, one was yellow, and one was green. The red barrel fired a normal explosive rocket, the yellow barrel fired an electromagnetic pulse rocket, and the green barrel fired an acidic explosive. And the launcher shrunk down to the size of an energy pistol when a button was pressed. It gathered up dirt and dust and garbage around it from the back to quickly convert into ammo but the only downside is that it would be difficult to use more than once in an area.

Jayden picked out an old shotgun. At first i didnt understand why, but then they loaded the clip. The clip was a huge drum that loaded in the bottom of the barrel. The drum was see through and inside you could see sawblades lined up side by side. When they pumped the shotgun a blade got lifted into a slot between the 2 shotgun barrels and started glowing red. When the trigger was pulled, the blade spun at high speeds and fired out of the slot, spinning along the ground like a wheel. It could cut through anything a baton could cut through and seemed to almost follow its target. The gun itself looked like an DP-12, except behind the pump, a large clear drum full of sawblades was in place. The blade sat between the barrels in place of the iron sights and got heated up by an electrical circut.

I also took a laser sword instead of my baton, it was just like the one that [3825968] had, except this one was about an inch longer. The final weapon i took was an acid thrower. It was basically just a watergun with acid in it. Ive always been partial to acidic weapons. If youve heard my other story, youd know why..

Jayden also took a submachine gun that fired freezing rounds. The rounds were essentially glorified waterballoons with liquid nitrogen in them. Though the rounds were bullet sized, enough shots from it would certainly freeze you in place. The freeze gun was about the size of the average human head, and was painted navy blue with blue saphire stripes placed along it. We both left the shack, me with my sword and jayden with a wine glass. We were ready to kick ass and put a stop to this.

We left and immediately both got flung into some trees. Guess who it was. It was ebony. Her body had been found and reanimated. I was starting to see a pattern. And now we had to fight the telekinetic who could kill us with a wave of her hand.

She was levitating. Her eyes were glowing red and her hair was floating in the air. She had a smile of someone about to rip your arms off and beat you with them. I tried to take a shot at her but my hand got knocked aside by an invisible force. So i tried the next best thing. Seduction. Fake seduction. Hopefully the whole dying and coming back from the dead thing didnt make her stop being weirdly obsessed with me.

While i faked surrender and complimented ebony and attempted to seduce her, jayden took aim of their ice gun and shot a burst at ebonys right arm. The arm froze in place and shattered. Hopefully that would lower the strength of her telekinetic abilities. It did. But only by about half. Which meant jayden got thrown into the air as i tried to discreetly unholster my acid gun. It wasnt discreet enough and the gun was knocked from my hand.

The gun flew forwards and the impact of hitting the ground set it off for a second, just enough to spray an acidic burn through her arm. Incapacitating her. Jayden ended up sneaking up behind her and impaling her through the skull with the shattered end of their wine glass. Finally ebony was dead for good.

The acid gun was busted, so we had to leave it behind. We got onto my motorcycle and took off towards my apartment building. We would need food if we were going to be traveling. An apartment complex would probably be full of foods, and alot of dead people who wouldnt care if we took some stuff.

[verai-marcel]

Year End Writer’s Roundup 2020

I saw the lovely @tahitianmangoes do this, so I wanna do it too!

AO3 name: Verai

Fandoms: Red Dead Redemption 2

Number of fics: Full Fics on AO3: 90. Full Fics on Tumblr: 98, since I can’t publish my RDO OC content on AO3. And there’s a smattering of headcanons and drabbles and short fics that I’m not counting in that number. Most of my fics are one shots. A few are multi-chaptered. 

Word count for the year (published/unpublished): Published - According to AO3: 106,049. I wrote twice as much in 2019, haha. Unpublished? Uh... None, I guess. NO WAIT. 369 words of a Grace x Arthur fic that will never be finished. Sigh.

Fic I spent the most time on: Just going by the word count, The Light That You Shine, my one and only John Marston fic, was probably the fic I took the longest time on, since it’s a full 6 chapters of modern AU motorcycle club shenanigans and sweet romance.

Fic I Spent the Least Time On: Probably Clean, a little side story for the Cat Cafe AU. Pretty sure I busted that out in 20 minutes.

Favorite thing I wrote: Uggggh, this is tough. It’s a three-way tie between Midnight Promises (Vampire AU), The Pure Taste Of You (Incubus AU), and Heart of Starlight (Mythology AU). Hm, I see a theme here...

Favorite Thing I Read: Call me a whore for menage romance novels, but Vanessa Vale’s Slate Springs series just makes me so hot.

Writing Goals For Next Year: I need to finish my damn book. I just finished the first draft (50K+ words!), so now I need to go through and make some edits and address some comments from my lovely proofreaders, and then open up a blank document next to my first draft and re-write the whole thing. I hear it’s a good way to make your second draft significantly improved, because you’re not just editing your previous words, but you’re re-telling your story now that you’ve been on the first journey with your characters & you know them better now.

Fic I want to rewrite/expand on: None of them, I guess. Kinda done writing fanfiction for now, except for the occasional response to an Ask or something.

Share a bit of a WIP or story idea you’re working on:

“You goin’ to miss me while I’m gone?” he asked, teasingly.

She huffed and looked away. “Maybe.”

He chuckled. “Well, maybe I’ll miss you too.”

As they reached the front door of the office, Ada stopped and pulled on his arm. He turned to face her.

“Don’t get injured out there,” she said quietly. “I won’t be there to bandage you up.”

Everett smiled, touched by her way of telling him that she cared. “I’ll be careful. Wouldn’t want anyone else touchin’ me ‘cept you.”

Tagging whoever sees this and wants to do it toooooo

[star-linedsoul]

Legacy: A Supernatural Fanfiction | Sneak Peek

STORY SUMMARY:

Dean & Sam Winchester have spent their lives surrounded by the evil forces of the world, pushed and pulled and forced to bend in attempt to rid the world of evil and save innocent lives. As such, they jump at the chance to close the gates of Hell, forever removing demons from the face of the Earth. However, a visitor from the future causes the brothers to question this decision as the cost of this endeavor makes itself clear. Raised in a future where demons rule the world, Erica Winchester longs for an escape from the darkness that has destroyed her family. Sending herself to the past to finish the job her father started long ago, she hopes to atone for her own mistakes as much as she hopes to fix her world. As she delves into nigh-impossible trials and ancient magicks, however, she begins to wonder whether redemption is even possible. Perhaps, in the end, destiny cannot be avoided. Perhaps, for a Winchester, the only possible legacy is one of blood and death.

CHAPTER SUMMARY:

After the events of episode 8x13, “Everybody Hates Hitler,” Sam & Dean return to the Men of Letters bunker to find that they are no longer the only ones entrusted with its secrets. A search ensues to determine who or what has compromised the security of their new home.

Well, as definitive proof that I really need to work on my self-control, the writing bug has officially refused to leave me alone when it comes to this WIP. It will probably be awhile before I post any full chapters of this story, but I couldn’t resist sharing an excerpt featuring the first meeting between Dean and my OC Erica. I’m trying a couple new things in regards to a more concise writing style and a streamlined writing process that will hopefully allow me to write faster. Feel free to give me some input/constructive criticism on whether or not you feel it works! I put the excerpt under a read more due to length and mild spoilers for anyone that isn’t caught up on the series!

Legacy Taglist: @wordspin-shares​

As always, my askbox and messaging are always open for discussion or if you would like to be added to the taglist! :D

EXCERPT:

Shaking his head at how ridiculous it was to be playing hide and go seek in his own home—without even knowing who he was looking for—Dean securely latched the door on his way out of the bedroom. No one was violating his space more than they already had. Not if he had anything to say about it.

The hunter crossed the corridors on silent feet, every sense tuned to pick up on the slightest sign of the bunker’s mystery guests. He knew he had finally struck gold as he turned into the hall leading to the garage. Amid the funky rhythm and melodic vocals of what his ears immediately recognized as the Red Hot Chili Peppers, the metallic clang of tools clattering together sang through the air. He knew that sound well. Pressing his back against the wall flanking the stairs that led up into the garage, he quickly texted Sam, letting him know that he had finally found something.

Dean ascended the first few stairs leading into the garage, stopping when he was just high enough to see over the concrete walls of the motorcycle bays flanking the stairwell. Scanning the open garage, he found all of the cars and bikes still in their places, with the sounds coming from the corner workspace at the rear. He ducked back down out of sight as he caught movement between the shelves that separated the work area from the rest of the garage. Bingo.

The hunter not-so-patiently waited until his phone vibrated with Sam’s confirmation that he was on his way before climbing the stairs to fully enter the garage. He kept his gun low but at the ready as quick strides carried him toward the corner, where a single figure was silhouetted behind the shelves. Ready to duck out of sight if anyone else should show up, he stayed close to the vehicle bays.

Several choice curses punctuating Anthony Kiedis’ melancholic crooning through “Californication” had Dean categorizing this particular intruder as female, and he absently wondered if this was the owner of the jacket he and Sam had found in the library. The loud music masked his steps as he approached the gap that left the workspace open to the rest of the garage, giving him a moment to survey the scene without being noticed by the target. This objective was even better served when he saw that the woman stood at the near end of a collapsible worktable, on which rested a shiny, black and chrome motorcycle. Her back was to the hunter as she leaned one shoulder against the bike’s rear tire to hold it in place while she struggled to install its axle with her free hand.

“Come on, girl,” she growled between the dull thuds of a rubber mallet knocking the axle into place. “Stop being such a bitch!”

As if the bike heard her, the shaft finally found its seat. Dropping the rubber mallet to the table, the woman rested one hand on the reinstalled tire, running her other hand through choppy black hair as she muttered, “Finally!”  

Deciding to press his advantage while the woman was still unaware that she was no longer alone, Dean reached over and turned off the small stereo on the shelf next to him. As the intro to “By the Way” abruptly cut to silence, the hunter raised his pistol to the ready position. “Nice bike.”

With a loud gasp, the woman whirled around, swiping the mallet from the table once again and adopting a defensive stance in a single, fluid motion. She froze, however, as she spotted the gun leveled at her chest. Narrowed eyes widened in surprise and a crinkle formed along her brows while her knuckles turned white from gripping the mallet in her hand.

“Who are you?”

“Funny. I was planning on asking you the same thing,” Dean gestured to the woman’s hands with the barrel of his gun. “Drop that mallet and kick it under the table. Keep your hands where I can see them.”

The hunter thought for a moment that the woman was going to try something very stupid. She had the looks of an animal caught in headlights and panicking, seconds away from bolting. He had left her nowhere to run, making him wonder if she might try to charge him. He had her unquestionably outmatched in size, but fear made people do crazy things. Luckily, she proved to be a bit more sensible. Though her body was still taut with tension and her eyes remained glued to him, she crouched and placed the mallet on the floor. She raised her hands in a gesture of surrender as she rose, kicking the mallet away.

Though it was the result that he had wanted, something didn’t sit right with Dean. He couldn’t quite explain what it was. Maybe it was that this was too easy. Maybe it was that the intruder seemed to be trying too hard to appear normal. This woman before him had somehow managed to infiltrate their bunker—which was supposed to be secret and hidden—and yet she was tinkering in the garage instead of robbing the place of its virtually priceless collection. Nothing about her appearance suggested that she was anything other than average. Surely no older than thirty, she wore a simple, black T-shirt, form-fitting jeans, and scuffed biker boots, with no logos or embellishments visible that might be traced back to a store. No charms or amulets decorated her wrists or hung around her neck, nor were any weapons visible that might suggest that she was a hunter. And yet there was something unsettling about her. About how quickly she had picked up that mallet and prepared to defend herself only to disarm just as fast. About how she looked as submissive as possible, wide-eyed and with her hands in the air, and yet her entire body was tensed as if ready for a fight.

Remaining on alert, Dean stepped closer to the woman only for her to back away in equal measure. “What do you want?”

The hunter was sure it was meant to be a demand, but her voice was too shaky for it to have the desired effect. “Hey, you’re the one in my home without permission, sweetheart. I’ll handle the questions.” Before she could protest further, Dean closed the distance between them, grabbing her shoulder and pushing her to turn around. “Keep those hands up.”

His pistol ready in one hand just in case, he quickly skimmed his free hand over the woman’s lean frame. Starting at her torso, he then went down one denim-clad leg, confiscating the switchblade tucked into her boot. On the way up the other leg, he swiped the leather wallet from her back pocket.

“Hey!” she protested, whirling back around and reaching for the wallet. “Give that back!”

Dean dodged her, moving out of reach. “Don’t worry, you’ll get it back so long as you don’t do anything stupid.” He could tell she didn’t like that answer as her hands tightened into fists. Green eyes fixed him with a scorching glare, which he elected to ignore as he flipped open the wallet to check for ID. “Got any friends with you?”

“It’s just me.” Dean glanced up at the woman’s wooden tone, but he found that she wasn’t looking at him, fixed on a spot behind his left shoulder. Then, faintly, “Oh…there’s two of you.”

Turning to follow her stare, Dean found his brother surveying the scene, pistol lowered but ready. About damn time. “Hi, Sammy! I’m so glad you finally decided to join us.”

The younger Winchester answered with a curt nod, glancing between his brother and the woman he’d cornered. “What’s going on?”

“I was just getting acquainted with our new friend here.” Dean made a show of holding up the ID he had pulled from their guest’s wallet, keeping his tone casual. “Meet Erica Jackson from Seminole, Oklahoma. She’s a...let’s see, carry the one, thirteen minus seven…twenty-six year old Gemini and”—he raised an eyebrow, looking at the woman’s choppy black locks—“a blonde?”

She shifted her weight to one leg, crossing her arms over her chest. “I’m sorry, is dying hair a crime these days?”

Dean definitely didn’t like that snippy tone. “No, but breaking and entering is. So give me one good reason why you’re in my garage and I’ll think about letting you walk outta here.”

“I-I didn’t know anyone lived here.” Erica had the decency to at least pretend to be remorseful, nervously tucking her hair behind one ear and scuffing one toe against the concrete as she glanced between the brothers. “The place was empty when I found it.”

“And you just decided to move in?” Sam inferred, moving forward to stand shoulder-to-shoulder with Dean.

“No, of course not!” Erica returned, indignant. But then she faltered, pulling her lower lip between her teeth. “Well, kind of, I guess…” She huffed. “It’s a long story.”

[redrobinfection]

(30) Treat

SociallyAwkwardFox’s Spooktober - Day 30 “Treat”

Jason & Tim | BatFam | Gen | Minor injuries | Pranks | Halloween Ficlet Posted in January Because No Shame

AN: Hi, Anon! Fall semester really kicked my butt this year (2018). I thought I could handle it, but then I totally dropped out of the Spooktober event without any notice (which is a shame: what am I going to do with all these Spooktober drafts and ideas sitting in my WIPs folder?) and I felt terrible about it, but honestly, I doubted anyone would notice... So thanks for proving me wrong (the best way to be wrong) and for sending me this kind note which gave me the excuse motivation to write the follow-up to Day 1 “Trick”. Enjoy the treat! 🎃

---

"Weren't you going to join them on patrol?"

"Psh, nah," Jason scoffs, waving a hand. He leans down over Tim and and grins deviously. "This is way more entertaining."

Tim looks up and rolls his eyes as he pops the last lug nut off of the final wheel. Jason shakes his head in disbelief. Imagine that. The kid actually managed to get all four wheels off the Batmobile before Bats and the fam made it back from their Halloween patrol.

"Hey, we still have those cinder blocks down in the motorcycle bay, right?" Tim asks absently as he awkwardly wiggles the last wheel off the posts, then tosses it into the pile of discarded wheels off to one side.

Jason’s eyes narrow and his grin sharpens. "Yeah, but... Wow, really? Damn. Remind me not to piss you off in the future.” He laughs. “I'll go grab 'em, just for you, Timbo."

Tim grins back just as sharply. "You're too kind, Jay."

By the time Jason returns with four cinder blocks stacked in his arms, Tim is already going to town with the tire pry, separating the tires from the rims. Jason whistles low. "Gee whiz, Timmers. Seriously, remind me to never get on your bad side."

Tim hurls the tire away with a breathless laugh and glances back at him with a smirk as he begins letting the air out of the next wheel. "Jason, never get on my bad side."

Jason snorts. He considers the mess of deconstructed wheels with amusement. "You don't do anything halfway, do you?"

"Nope!" Tim chirps cheerily as he rams the pry down under the bead of the now deflated tire. "Hey, help me figure out where we're going to hide all of these."

"Babybird! You sure about that? I was kidding earlier, but this... B's really going to ground your ass from here until Christmas for this."

"Eh. He was going to anyway," Tim replies with a wink, stumbling on his bad ankle as he pulls the second tire free. Jason grabs him by the elbow and shakes his head.

"Well, we better hurry up and hide ‘em fast; the Bat Brigade will be back before we know it. Here, give me that tire pry…"

~*~

When Bruce and company return twenty minutes later, they roll in to find Tim and Jason sitting pretty with smiles on their faces, clearly relishing the looks of horror and confusion as the family inspects the Batmobile in its sad state--stripped down to the hubs, propped up on four cinder blocks, and covered in a toilet paper teepee.

"Uhhh… I thought Mischief Night was last night?" Dick jokes hesitantly, trying to lighten the situation.

"Mischief what?" Damian parrots sharply. "Isn't Halloween inane enough?"

"It's the night before… oh nevermind," Steph begins then gives up, waving a hand dismissively and shuffling off toward the showers instead.

Bruce looks thunderous under the cowl as he and the rest of the crew slowly ascend the stairs from the motorpool. Their eyes rove around the cave, taking in one tire hanging from the snout of the dinosaur and another, inside out, hanging around the neck of Bruce's spare suit inside the display case. Tim turns his chair slowly to reveal one rim sitting on the desk beside the Batcomputer; he runs a finger along the edge of the finely tooled rim like some sort of cheesy spy flick villain.

Bruce's glower darkens further.

"Jay, why'd you have to pull the wheels off again?" Dick moans, peeling off his mask just in time for them to see him roll his eyes. "That stunt got old years ago."

Jason's eyes widen innocently as he shoots up in his seat. "Me? You're blaming me? I didn't do this!"

Steph’s laughter echoes from the showers and Dick rolls his eyes again. "Who else would it be? This sort of dumb-ass humor is right up your alley. Literally."

"Hey!"

Tim snorts, drawing the eyes of Bruce and Cass. Cass smiles knowingly before gliding away to join Steph in the showers, but Bruce pouts in that 'I'm not angry I'm just very disappointed' way of his that would normally piss Jason off, except that tonight it's directed at Tim instead of him. It’s a rare treat to be on the laughing end for once.

"I thought you of all people would be above petty revenge, Tim," Bruce comments quietly. Dick's eyes dart to Tim in surprise and Damian scoffs, but Tim meets all of their eyes challengingly and grins.

"Yeah, it is petty, but this is what you get for benching me from everything, including comms, on Halloween of all nights," Tim informs them matter-of-factually. He slowly pulls himself out of the chair and begins limping his way to the elevator. "Have fun following the clues to find each and every lug nut. Oh and watch out, the bats might have left you a surprise in one of the rims."

Dick's jaw drops and Steph's echoing giggles escalate into loud cackling, soon joined by a soft clapping that must be Cass. Jason's shoulders shake in silent laughter as he takes it all in.

Tim stabs the button to the elevator and turns to smirk over his shoulder. "Trick or Treat, B."

[cyberattack-corner]

CYBERATTACK MASTERPOST

💣 Overview 💣

In 1999, the Y2K scare was in full swing. Everyone was terrified that with the new millennium, everything with an internal clock would malfunction and the ensuing panic would cause society to collapse. 

That happened, but it was much worse than what everyone imagined...

Computers failed once it hit midnight on January 1st, 2000. This included things like nuclear weapon monitoring systems, which launched bombs that didn’t leave a single country untouched. In Japan, only about less than half the population was able to make it into shelters. 

In early 2001, despite the remainder of the Japanese government having a somewhat steady hold on everything, a lot of gangs were already banding together. They killed the Prime Minister and completely took over the country. Lots of death and violence and chaos ensued. Once everything settled, the eight most powerful gangs rose to occupy each of the either regions, and everyone began to rebuild. 

The current year is 2055, and Japan is in danger of being completely taken over by a tyrannical gang from Tokyo...

🏮 Gangs 🏮

Rotten Revolution is the gang in charge of Kansai. They’re based in Osaka, operating out of an arcade called High-Tech Junkyard. Soon after they took over Kansai, Denko Sekiguchi (one of only two members at the time) made enemies with the biggest gang on Honshu when she bombarded their servers with DDoS attacks. That gang, The Heartbreakers, was left with dead servers and suffered heavy losses; mainly gang members, money, and other resources. Meanwhile, Rotten Revolution is thriving. They are generally liked by the inhabitants of Kansai, and they are actively trying to make life better for those who live in the wastelands outside Osaka.

The Heartbreakers are in charge of the Kanto region, based in Tokyo. They operate out of a dark industrial warehouse that was used by a corporation to store power tools before the bombs dropped. The region is nearly a military state, especially under the new leadership of Ren Honegumi. The youngest gang leader in Tokyo’s history, Ren murdered the previous gang’s leader before taking the crown for himself. Now they have a vice grip on Kanto, easily crushing any smaller gangs under their boots. They hope to expand their harsh control to the rest of the country.

👹 Characters 👹

From left to right in the image above! Click their name to go to their masterpost. As of December 2018, the masterposts are a WIP. Only a couple are finished!

👑Oniku Umehara🍖 

Oniku is the leader of Rotten Revolution. She’s pretty mysterious, and she often makes decisions based on what will result in something interesting, violent, or just fun. She hates getting her hands dirty, so she gets Denko to do all the fucked up things instead. She seems to have a backup plan for everything, and she never seems angry or upset. She has a collection of gold-plated guns.

🍑Denko Sekiguchi⚡

Denko is a mechanic for Rotten Revolution, and she’s also pretty good with computers. She builds her own cybernetics and sells them. They’re cool; she can remotely override control and make them do freaky shit. Also, her parents died five years ago because their cyberbrain servers crashed and she’s pretty damn sure it wasn’t an accident.

💾Dokuro Satou💀

Dokuro collapsed on the doorstep of Rotten Revolution’s arcade one day, and Oniku convinced her to join. She works as a hacker and programmer for the gang. I haven’t developed her enough, but she’s shifty and anxious to the point some people think she’s hiding something.

🍣Hamachi Onoda🔪

Hamachi is a scout for Rotten Revolution. Her family has owned the same sushi shop for generations, even through the near-apocalypse, and she is violently passionate about traditional Japanese cooking. Her cooking knives double as murder knives.

🐇Aika Goshima🍰

Aika is not technically part of Rotten Revolution, and she’s not interested in joining, but she provides enough weapons for them and she’s so loyal that they treat her as part of the gang anyway. She even lives with them above the arcade! She mostly deals in heavy weapons, but she’s not strong enough to wield most of them and that makes her sad. She wants to use a minigun.

💔Ren Honegumi💫

Ren is the leader of the Heartbreakers and he is not nice. He’s the most dangerous fuckboy you’ll ever meet. Seriously. His gang is called the Heartbreakers because he didn’t get very far romantically when he was younger, or ever. He’s intimidating, arrogant, and absolutely merciless. He does have a soft spot for shoujo anime, and his favorite one is Urusei Yatsura. Lum is his girlfriend.

🍮Shuichi Kurosawa👾

Shuichi is a member of the Heartbreakers, and his job consists of running around, finding information, and reporting everything to Ren. He’s a soft boy but he needs more character development.

💉Hitsugi Gozou💊

Hitsugi is the Heartbreakers’ medic. She’s really bad at remembering to use anesthetic, even when treating fellow gang members. She also needs more character development.

🌧️Kaiko Matsunaga🐛

Kaiko is similar to Aika in that she’s not really a member of the Heartbreakers, but she helps them enough that she counts anyway. She’s an info broker and hacker. As far as everyone goes, she’s the newest character so she definitely needs development too.

🗾 Regions 🗾

Hokkaido is the northernmost region (and also island!), and its capital city is Sapporo. Notable for its cold weather, it is the fourth most populous region. Their gang activity isn’t exactly cut off from Honshu (the main island), but they have separated themselves from most of the conflict. 

Tohoku is a relatively remote region. It is the seventh most populous region, making it second to last, and its capital city is Sendai. The southern half of the region has been claimed by the Heartbreakers.  

Kanto is Heartbreakers territory, and the most populous region. The capital city is Tokyo, which is notable for how quickly it rebuilt after the bombs. Despite the city’s advanced development, the surrounding wastelands receive no help from the Heartbreakers. The southern border (Kanto-Chubu) is heavily guarded, while the northern border (Kanto-Tohoku) is more lax.

Chubu is not a fun region to be in, as it is right in the middle of the conflict between Kanto and Kansai. Its capital city is Nagoya, and it is the third most populous region. Like Tohoku, a portion of it has been claimed by the Heartbreakers, who are fighting to get even more of the region.

Kansai is home to Rotten Revolution. It is the second most populous region, and the capital city is Osaka. The wastelands surrounding Osaka are in much better shape than the Kanto wastelands, but the city is still a preferable place to live. They are less concerned with taking territory than they are with keeping the Heartbreakers from conquering Japan.

Chugoku is the region at the tail end of the main island, Honshu. It is the sixth most populous region, and its capital city is Hiroshima. Rotten Revolution is considering reaching out to their gang to make an alliance. 

Shikoku is like Hokkaido in that it is both a region and an island. It is the least populous, and its capital is Matsuyama. Despite the lack of any connecting land, they are still involved with most of the conflict on Honshu.

Kyushu is the southwestern most region/island, and its capital city is Fukuoka. It is the fifth most populous region, and the most removed from the conflict on Honshu.

⛩️ Miscellaneous ⛩️

There are only eight leading gangs, but there are hundreds of smaller gangs spread throughout the wastelands. Occasionally small gangs will crop up in the capital cities, but depending on the region the leading gang will assume they are trying to take over. 

Every leading gang has a unique uniform. The color scheme is primarily dark; blacks, navy blues, and greens are common. There is also a civilian uniform for those living in the capital cities, but it is not required to wear except in schools. The civilian uniform is the same as the leading gang’s uniform, except the shirt or jacket is white. 

Bicycles and motorcycles are the most efficient ways to get around. Other than that, you’ll have to walk. It sucks to travel, especially outside of your region. Traveling to and from cities is a big deal and not commonly done. There are no cars or trains.

The wastelands are generally not a fun place to be. In the cities, housing and other resources are generally nice and there is access to the region’s gang-run network, like tokyoNET and osakaNET. In the wastelands, there is no network access, and people are left to their own devices.

The currency is called ZENI, stylized in all caps because it looks cool. It is completely electronic, and can be accessed via any device that connects to the network. No one carries yen anymore, at least not to pay for things, because it isn’t actively being made. Outside the cities, where there isn’t a network or anything, people just trade. 

Traditional Japanese cultural practices, like Noh and Kabuki theater, shrines and Shinto religion, and tea ceremonies, are uncommon in the big cities. However, the further into the wastelands you go, the more of this you'll find. It’s not out of the ordinary to have a small gang operating out of an old temple. 

Media like books and movies stopped being professionally produced at the beginning of 2000 when the bombs dropped. However, mostly everything that existed before that still exists in Cyberattack, and there are small but prominent doujin circles who create their own media, whether it’s to provide an ending to an unfinished manga or produce an original film. 

🍵 FAQ 🍵

Questions will go here as I get them!

[empress-of-hugs]

1- What’s the last wip you opened? That would probably be HFHL, my huuuge ongoing longfic that's part of too large a universe to post all of it.

2- Do you name your wip before, during, or after writing? Depends, usually oneshots get named after, though sometimes I think of something awesome while writing. Nothing ever gets named before I have at least a good chunk down though.

3- Longest word count on an abandon wip I refuse to admit that anything I've ever written is abandoned.

4- Last sentence written? "I can," he said softly before leaving the office in silence, leaving Erin Strauss to gather what little peace she could find for herself.

5- Last sentence on an angst wip Black’s eyes were fixed on the pizzas, his hand once again pressing the towel into his side. Reid opened his mouth to say something about possible infections, but decided against it. I'll give you two sentences, just for some clarity.

6- Last sentence on a fluff wip I don't really do fluff, so I'll give you crack instead:

Rossi chuckled again as he opened the door to the bullpen, “The more you know…!”

7- When are you most likely to kill a character? I've only killed off two, in one oneshot. Because I decided I was going to. I generally don't kill people off?

8- Name one wip you’ve revived from death I'mma go with a oneshot called 'The first cut is the deepest'.

9- A wip you regret (you can vague this) One that I think I won't be able to write/do justice because it centers around a way of life I cannot begin to imagine.

10- A wip 12 year old you wrote Eh... I had an original story going about Rosa the Robin? She had one brother, iirc, and they helped the other animals out whenever they needed something. I don't remember the details and unfortunately that notebook has been lost to the ages.

11- 1st person or 3rd person? Ooof! This is a hard one, either has their use! Third person is easier in a way, but man do I love first. I love both. Can I just have both, please?

12- Favourite wip? Like, this has to be anything connected to my longfic (which has several side pieces. But I'm also kind of in love with this House/Wilson smut I'm writing?

13- A wip that’s self indulgent? (you can vague this) ALL OF THEM.

14- Post the last sentence on a wip open in your tabs right now Which one? I have like... 8 stories open rn, and that's just because I decluttered earlier. Okay, fine. I'll give you the House/Wilson I was talking about earlier.

“You left so soon!” Wilson steeled his nerves and kept walking. “I’d have given you a ride…!” House called after him, but Wilson pretended he didn’t hear him, didn’t see the second motorcycle helmet House awkwardly carried with him. 

15- Describe a wip of yours in 20 words Damn, this is hard. Okay. It's gonna sound so bad lol

Wilson wakes up in House's bed and spends all day trying to forget about what happened last night, only to fail.

16- Post a plot twist to a wip of your choice, but don’t say what wip it’s in He won't end up with the one everyone is going to be rooting for, after cumulative bad experiences. Instead he'll find true love with the one who comes running when he's been kicked down.

17- Beta or self-proofer? Bit of both, really. Some stuff gets eyed by writer friends of mine. But I've stopped torturing beta's with my update schedule for my longfic. Oneshots almost always get looked at tho.

18- Have you ever co-written a wip with someone before? Doing that for the first time ever as we speak!

19- Do you still use the words ‘lemon’ or ‘lime’? I don't, actually. Though I can't tell you when that changed. I think smut just sounds better, it rolls off the tongue easier too.

20- Are you more likely to write fanfiction or do you prefer original stories? Fanfic. All my original stories turn to dust once I start typing them up.

21- What is a word you use too much? Suddenly.

23- Do you make your own wip covers? Nope.

24- What platform do you post your work on, given the chance you finish the work? AO3 & FFN

25- Oneshots or multi-chapter? Bit of both, but the majority are probaby oneshots because I don't have the spoons to juggle multiple longfics and any chaptered fic seems to always turn into a longfic.

26- Google docs, word doc, or neither? Gdocs

27- Hardest wip you’ve written? I think I'm still writing it. I dunno why, but the words just aren't flowing

28- When was the last time you used pen and paper to write down a wip? A week or two ago. It was 4 am and I didn't feel like booting up my computer or grabbing my phone.

29- Music or no music? Usually none. If I do have music on it's either instrumental or in a language I do not understand lest I start typing the song lyrics.

30- Have you ever done a self insert? In a way, yes. But they're not obvious.

31- Are you doing this instead of actually working on your wip? Shhhh

32- Without counting, how many wips do you think you have? At least 20. That I remember.

33- Write a 1 paragraph wip and post it My footsteps sound hollow on the old pavers, my step a little more unsteady than I care to admit. After all, there are no alcoholics working at such a prestigious place as this psychiatric hospital. Therefore, I am not a drunk. I am merely a connoisseur of fine whiskey, thank-you-very-much, and I know perfectly well when it's time to put my glass down and head home. Where my beautiful wife no longer waits for me, and the crib we purchased sits bare. And no, I don't want to talk about it. My footsteps falter as the shadows around me darken. I am unsure whether my environment is actually darkening or if it's really just my thoughts. It doesn't matter anymore. Nothing matters anymore. Sitting down on the cold pavers I take another swig of my whiskey. It's crappy and cheap but I'm at that point where I hardly notice anymore. My head rolls to the side, the weight of memories too painful to bear dragging it down, pulling it towards the street. My body falls sideways, crashing against the hard pavers. I barely feel it. The pavers are wet. I hadn't noticed that before. But I don't care. Darkness settles in around me, stiffling my memories in a thick blanket. Soon, I know. Soon I won't have to feel anymore. I almost smile. But there is no consiousness here.

34- How many prompts are in your inbox right now? None. No one's sent me any.

35- Are you more likely to make grammatical errors or spelling errors? Spelling. Though my grammar isn't anywhere near perfect either.

36- Have you ever coloured your docs for your wips? I color-code the folders.

37- Name a series you’ve abandoned writing I have not abandoned anything! Though, Three Clans Unite and Dear Diary both haven't been touched in ages lol.

38- A wip you did for a friend A pack of only two. If I ever manage to finish it I think I need to throw a party.

39- When you write numbers, do you say ‘3’ or ‘three’? Three. It looks weird and awkward to me otherwise. I pretty much always spell it out.

40- What should you be writing right now that you’re excited about? Fledgling Memories of You Fool's Gold My DoMAYstic prompts HFHL Take your pick, really.

Ask Game for Writing-Wip hoarders

I’m made this when I should be writing

1- What’s the last wip you opened?

2- Do you name your wip before, during, or after writing?

3- Longest word count on an abandon wip

4- Last sentence written?

5- Last sentence on an angst wip

6- Last sentence on a fluff wip

7- When are you most likely to kill a character?

8- Name one wip you’ve revived from death

9- A wip you regret (you can vague this)

10- A wip 12 year old you wrote

11- 1st person or 3rd person?

12- Favourite wip?

13- A wip that’s self indulgent? (you can vague this)

14- Post the last sentence on a wip open in your tabs right now

15- Describe a wip of yours in 20 words

16- Post a plot twist to a wip of your choice, but don’t say what wip it’s in

17- Beta or self-proofer?

18- Have you ever co-written a wip with someone before?

19- Do you still use the words ‘lemon’ or ‘lime’?

20- Are you more likely to write fanfiction or do you prefer original stories?

21- What is a word you use too much?

23- Do you make your own wip covers?

24- What platform do you post your work on, given the chance you finish the work?

25- Oneshots or multi-chapter?

26- Google docs, word doc, or neither?

27- Hardest wip you’ve written?

28- When was the last time you used pen and paper to write down a wip?

29- Music or no music?

30- Have you ever done a self insert?

31- Are you doing this instead of actually working on your wip?

32- Without counting, how many wips do you think you have?

33- Write a 1 paragraph wip and post it

34- How many prompts are in your inbox right now?

35- Are you more likely to make grammatical errors or spelling errors?

36- Have you ever coloured your docs for your wips?

37- Name a series you’ve abandoned writing

38- A wip you did for a friend

39- When you write numbers, do you say ‘3’ or ‘three’?

40- What should you be writing right now that you’re excited about?

[homesoutofhuman]

Masterlist

John Wick

Oneshots:

Indulge  John Wick/reader - You love his body, you just don’t often get to see it, but for once, he indulges you.

The devil is a fallen angel  John Wick/reader - John’s reaction to you wearing his shirt 

Leather John Wick/reader- Watching John clean his guns leads to smut

Suck it and see  John Wick/reader - John and reader go lingerie shopping on a hot day

Your addiction John Wick/reader- Vamp!John Wick

Season of mists  Pt 1 Pt 2  John Wick/reader- Autumn AU 

Your sinner, in secret  Pt 1   Pt 2   Pt 3  Pt 4  Interlude Pt 5 (1) (2) John Wick/reader lawyer AU- After getting chosen for an internship at a prestigious law firm, you find yourself entangled with a certain hotshot lawyer, Mr John Wick

Bite Vamp!John Wick

It will come back (Wild) John Wick/reader Mulder and Scully type AU

The velvet rope  John Wick/reader -based on Your sinner, in secret, John and reader try bondage

Soft John Wick/reader - John and you spend a lazy day together

Hunter’s Lullaby John Wick/reader - 

Think of me John Wick/reader -

Collabs:

NFWMB with @keanuwwu Part 1, Part 2 John Wick/you - bodyguard AU

Multi-chapter:

Bluebeard (complete)- John Wick/reader - Given as part of a business deal to the mysterious John Wick, you must learn whether he really is the monster you’ve been told about.

Chapter 1: His stride is the wildernesses of freedom

Chapter 2: Go now out of the nest it’s time

Chapter 3: O the regrettings infinite

Chapter 4: Violent demonstrations

Chapter 5: Suddenly without thinking

Chapter 6: Grateful

Chapter 7: Thinking lots about your mouth

Chapter 8: Never so truly turned over and over

Chapter 9: Gazing with silly sickness

Chapter 10: Make our sun stand still

Chapter 11: Let lips do what hands do

Chapter 12: Secrets, running over my soul without sound

Chapter 13: Defeated by love

Chapter 14: My love is a fever

Chapter 15: Knew not eating death

Chapter 16: The weakness necessary

Chapter 17: My blood beats out your name to me

Chapter 18: Even to the edge of doom

Chapter 19: When I die I want your hands on my eyes

Chapter 20: Your goodbye is a promise of lightning

Chapter 21: I could not stop for death

‘Bluebeard’ Pinterest Board

Bluebeard starter pack

Blue Jeans (complete) - John Wick/reader baby!assassin John Wick who rides a motorcycle and keeps his guns in a box under his bed, meets a sweetheart who turns his world upside down.

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Chapter 5

Chapter 6

Chapter 7

Chapter 8

Chapter 9

Chapter 10

Chapter 11

Chapter 12

‘Blue Jeans’ Pinterest Board I am weak

Safe and Sound (WIP) - John Wick/reader Based on this photoshoot. You meet a tall, dark, handsome stranger and the next thing you know you’re bound and kidnapped and stranded in the woods with no one but him for comfort.

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Chapter 5

Safe and Sound Pinterest

Daddy Issues (complete) - John Wick/reader AU - Dilf! John Wick hires you as his nanny

Part 1- Pleased to meet you, hope you guessed my name

Part 2- Crush

Part 3- The wrong place for my love

Part 4- Melting in your vice dreams

Part 5- One call away

Part 6 - Crybaby

Part 7 - Slow hands

Part 8 - Bell, book and candle

Part 9 - Jealous

Part 10 - Bad at love

Part 11- Shiver

Part 12- Lay all your love on me

Part 13- Back to reality

Part 14 - Bed

Part 15- Will you still love me tomorrow

Part 16 - The other woman

Part 17 - Thinking ‘bout you

Part 18- How long will I love you?

Part 19- Fools rush in

Deleted scene

Part 20 - Feels like home

Part 21 - Birthday

Part 22 - Walking after you

Daddy Issues starter pack

Daddy Issues playlist

DADDY ISSUES CHRISTMAS SPECIAL Part one, Part two, Part three, Part four, Part five

Heal the Pain (WIP) - John Wick/reader, slight Santino D’Antonio/reader - AU- You’re married to the rich and powerful Santino but end up in hospital under the care of Dr Wick, sometimes you just can’t stop fate.

Part 1- Heal the Pain

Part 2- Treat you better

Part 3- Stitches

Part 4- Roll to Me

Part 5- How will I know?

Part 6- L’amore non si spiega

Part 7- If I dare

Part 8-  How am I supposed to live without you?

Part 9 - Leave your lover

Part 10-I just called to say I love you

Imagines/HCs: 

Protective John Wick

Bikerboy! John Wick

John Wick is a bigboy™

Scary Boss John Wick

Stockholm syndrome

John Wick MD (with Santino D’antonio)

Age gap head canons

Hate sex with John Wick

Royal AU/secret relationship (fanfic trope challenge) 

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

RPF (real person fic)

Walking in the wind - Keanu/Reader - Working on the set of Replicas, reader starts to confide in Keanu and grows close to him.

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

Other Keanu characters

Don John (Much Ado About nothing)

Desperado - Don John/reader 

Hades (Greek Mythology)

Fancast -King of the Underworld- Keanu Reeves

Donaka Mark (Man of Tai Chi)

Imagine being loved by me - Fanfic trope challenge- 42. The Big Damn Kiss + 84. Married to the Job (Donaka Mark x Reader)

Johnny Utah (Point Break)

Donuts for breakfast- based on request for reader working at the FBI, growing close to Johnny, angst with jealousy and smut: Part 1- You never get a second chance to make a first impression, Part 2- When someone shows you who they are believe them, 

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

Mads Mikkelsen

Duncan Vizla (Netflix Polar)

Headcanons with gender neutral reader

Headcanons for meeting and taking care of Duncan when he’s hurt

Summer Dress- Oneshot Duncan/reader - Duncan is distracted seeing you in a sundress and you manage to turn the situation to your satisfaction

Locked in- Request for the fanfic trope challenge- Trope 1: Locked in a Room, Trope 2: Unexpected virgin

Hannibal Lecter

Roses Fall-  Fanfic trope request: Hannibal x reader with the “blind date” and “florist” trope

Scarlet -  You’re seeing a psychiatrist, Dr Lecter for your issues with sex, loneliness and hyperfixatons. Will he be your cure, or have you just met the man who will only make things worse? Part 1 Part 2 

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Bill Skarsgård

Multi-chapter:

Brothers- a forbidden love story: Bill Skarsgård/you Alexander Skarsgård/you Rated M for sex, swearing and a little rough and tumble

Part 1  - Busy leaving me

Part 2  - Just cause you feel it (doesn’t mean it’s there)

Part 3  - Come float with me

Part 4  - All fun and games until...

Part 5 - I taste you on my lips and I can’t get rid of you

Part 6  - A different side

Part 7  - Anniversary

Part 8  - Hostilities

Part 9 - Hotter than hell  

Part 10  - Friend of the Devil

Part 11 Out of the Woods

Part 12 Delicate

Part 13 Temptation waits

Part 14 Hell on heels

Part 15 Crying in the club

Part 16 Alone together

Part 17 Back to you

‘Brothers’ Pinterest board

Imagines:

Bill sitting at your breakfast table

Getting married to Alexander

[theguildedtypewriter]

Ten Questions Tag

Thanks @kclenhartnovels for tagging me, these are some awesome questions.

As always, this is for the NBC universe.

1. If your WIP was a TV show, what song would be the opening?

What!? This is neat but sooooo hard. Personally, I like when the openings are too long, like Supernatural. But, each book has a theme song that you could use. For AFP, it’s The Promise by In This Moment.

2. Do you write a poetic prose or do you prefer something more straightforward?

Yes and yes, especially based on genre. NBC is pretty straightforward with bits of metaphor and description thrown in for flavor.

3. Do your OCs have any jobs? If they do, what are they? If they don’t, what would they do for a living?

Yes:

Hope: Assassin

Ciaran: Personal bodyguard, he was also once a handyman

Dimitri: Ciaran’s assistant, but he sucks at it

Red: No job right now, she was on the run from the cops

Rayne: Not a job per se but a calling as a Siren

Lucas: Detective

Jacks: Thief

Thaine: Detective

Suma: Sold antiques in Egypt before returning to NBC, haven’t figured out if she’ll go back to that now

Alexander: EMT

Than: Hustling

Chayne: Cook

Ama: Phlebotomist 

Bindy: Runs coffee shop

Maithe: Mechanic

Ursa: Runs local occult shop

Wade: Art Dealer in Japan, again not sure if he’ll get back into it

Miyu: Librarian

4. Choose a color for each of your OCs.

Hope: Gun metal grey, soft velvet black, with dashes of blood red

Ciaran: Black, navy blue, and soft grey, the swirling colors of a cloudy sky before rain

Dimitri: electric blue that looks dangerous and striking

Red: Fire red, with orange and yellow and crackles of white as the flames dance

Rayne: The teal blue of the Mediterranean sea, the sandy white of beaches and makeshift houses

Lucas: the dirty gold of a badge that been through as much as its owner

Jacks: Deep green of the heart of emeralds and the shadow of cash

Thaine: Burnt wood brown and the tired mahogany of old bookshelves and weathered crosses

Suma: the brown gold of desert sand, the red and purple of a fiery setting sun

Alexander: the fresh red of new blood, the soft tan of a deer’s fur

Than: The empty black behind unconscious eyelids, the chrome of motorcycles and morgue drawers.

Chayne: The red brown of hot gumbo, the swirl of green and yellow and purple of Mardi Gras

Ama: the yellow green of snake eyes, the grey white of a crystal balls reflection

Bindy: the green and red and white of a snake scales, strawberry red and coffee brown

Maithe: the brown black of used oil, the cinnamon of bear fur, the dark green of pine leaves

Ursa: deep purples, black, and blues that fill the sky at moon rise on stormy nights, the indigo of a clear starry sky

Wade: The blue of waves crashing down on the shore, of tsunamis and hurricanes

Miyu: The pale yellow of old paper, the dusty maroon of old leather bindings

5. Choose parts of songs that describe each of your OCs perfectly.

Hope: No matter what I say or what I do I know how this will end So I'm turning away now before we beginAnd no matter what you say or what you do I know how this will end So I'm turning away now I'm dangerous for you - The Promise-ITM

Ciaran: I descend from grace In arms of undertow I will take my place In the great below I can still feel you Even so far away - The Great Below-NIN

This was getting hard for me so I’m going to leave it at Burn by ITM for the second book.

6. Which of your OCs just want to belong somewhere? Which of them want to stand out and be something more?

yes, all of them. A lot of times that belonging is more felt with a person, not a place or a group.

7. What makes you excited to write your story?

You guys! These questions and responses and comments and requests, they make me feel like my writing matters, to at least a few people. :)

8. If your novel was already published, which part of your story/chapter would you be more anxious to see the readers reactions?

Well, AFP is up on inkitt.com and I’m always excited for people to get to the end. The climax and the pay off. For BTB, I think that same thing too as also this horrible low point before the climax.

9. What’s the line you’ve written that made you proud?

“Now, Dimitri’s nose and lips were pressed against her forehead, almost a kiss, but more, so much more. They sat there like that, with their eyes closed breathing each other in, until the rap of the guard’s vicious cane three cells down woke them up.They sprinted back to their cots and waited for him to pass by, delivering their morning grool.”

10. Which OCs don’t get together, but you could see being a nice couple?

Not how my stuff works, each book is about a couple. But hot damn if Dimitri were gay he’d cuz such trouble with Than. But really they’d be terrible because there would be no leveling factor, no one to act as a foil, and they’d burn so bright they’d explode, and not in a sexy way.