#this is already kind of over drabble length oops

[doesnotloveyou]

Definitely Miami

already posted the AO3 link to this, but i'm so silly I forgot I can just post the whole thing

Warnings: Teen rating for suggestive content

Length: Flashfic/ficlet/drabble

Summary:

Sonny reflects on his past romances while trying not to make a huge mistake with a certain French bombshell.

Sonny's love life had felt like falling down stairs for a long time now. Each time he hit another step he swore he'd find his balance and stop before he hit the bottom, that the next step would be the last. Except the staircase was much steeper than he'd expected, and Burnett attracted gravity like a lead weight.

Caroline, his best love, mother to his amazing little boy who was growing bigger every day, broke his heart by using her head. She wanted out and he couldn't blame her. The job was more home to him than she was. His ex-wife and his boy had hugged him goodbye and left for better things.

Gina, his girl Friday, got her heart crushed by some jackass who wined and dined her before taking on another chick without so much as an "oops, sorry.” She definitely still loved him, but that wound was festering and neither of them wanted to look at it. He didn't even know why he'd done it, but he knew he didn’t deserve to be taken back.

Brenda, the 'other woman,' the one who was out of his league. The one who somehow thought she could succeed where Caroline had cut her losses. A pretty fantasy to wake up to but one that nearly cost him his real partner. She was never meant to be.

Margaret was the first sign that the staircase was steeper than imagined. New York City was bewildering enough without some chic blonde in a penthouse spinning him like a top. Even once the curtain had fallen she still tried to manipulate him back into her bed. He'd prefer to forget about Margaret sooner than later.

Now Callie. Ice cube to wipe her sweat, Callie. Kept him up thinking about her during a heatwave, Callie. How she twisted him around one manicured finger before running that hand up her leg. She came on too hard, turned him off; exuding pure sex was not a look he desired. But it sure as hell clung to his brain like a parasite.

The tortured love angle tugged viciously at his heart strings. He was in this job to protect people like her, but people like her were starting to go too far. His head was slamming the brakes while his heart floored it; it's a ripoff, but what if it isn't, trust your gut, she looks so scared, she could have left him by now, you know it's never that simple.

Sonny felt guilty for how bad he wanted it to be real. Because if it were real then Callie was really in an abusive relationship. Her tears, her fear, her pain. All of it would have to be real and he'd currently be hunting down the animal that terrorized her. Yet, the stink of a rotten deal was all over that woman, and here he was following it like a starving dog. 

During the four hours he devoted to sleep, drenched in summer sweat and wearing as little as possible, Sonny would bear down on the bunched up blanket and pillows to take the edge off. Callie was either a victim or a snake, and either way he shouldn't touch her.

At the end of each night though, his bed was empty, his heart full, and he wasn't getting any younger.

In the safehouse, Callie parted open her bathrobe and he fell with her into the bed. The trouble then was knowing exactly where to start. She was an unguarded sports car, top down, keys in the ignition, tank full, engine purring, upholstery gleaming. He was dressed as a criminal, talking like one, thinking like one. There was compassion in his heart and a full-bodied woman in his arms. No one knew where they were, and she wanted the touch of a kind man so desperately she was practically forcing herself on him. It was all so perfect. 

Out of left field the bickering between his head and heart was overruled. His conscience got him out of that bed. He pulled his clothes back together. He walked away.

[pride-moth]

Kotallo/Aloy "there's only one bed" pre-relationship for the drabble requests? (I'm basic and I love this trope)

Hell yeah, I love when there's only one bed!!! (But also oops I made it angsty)

Dare To Look (Aloy/Kotallo)

Kotallo steps into Aloy’s quarters with all the confidence and boldness of a fox caught between a Stormbird and a Thunderjaw. His eyes dart around to look at anything that isn’t her. She’s the one who offered him to stay the night, and yet… He doesn’t feel he should be here, with her, in her space. Her personal, private space. “I can simply leave to get the parts needed for the bed right now, I don’t wish to intrude-“ 

Aloy merely looks at him and he swallows. She has this way of looking at people that makes them fall silent in an instant with the understanding that any objection will not be heard. He usually admires it, but he is anything but thrilled to have it cast on himself. “I can see the dark circles through your paint, Kotallo. And I fought a Stormbird and a Thunderjaw today and I ran into two Slitherfangs on the way back, so I’m going to get a good night’s sleep now. You should, too.” 

He nods, tightly, unwilling to refuse, and makes his way to the large carpet in front of her bed. He can’t even sit down on it before she stops him.

“Don’t even think about it. You’re not sleeping on the floor.” 

“I really don’t want to intrude.” 

She gives him a look he doesn’t quite know how to read now, stern but not as serious and with an eyebrow quirked up. He hasn’t seen her use it before, but he nods and sits down on the bed, next to her, as she takes off her armor, revealing a simple tunic underneath. 

He doesn’t dare look at her for too long, for fear she might find it indecent. He turns away to get out of his own armor and can’t help but bitterly smile to himself. It’s her learning the truth that he’s afraid of. That his thoughts so often do turn indecent when he thinks about her and especially when he sees her fight, drenched in sweat and fire in her greenshine eyes.

And she mustn't know. He’d rather remain in this state of minor but persistent agony than have her reject him and look at him with the same pity she regards Erend with sometimes. 

“You can’t intrude when I’ve invited you. Now come lie down.” Her voice is firm but gentle and he is not about to disobey her. Not when she's smiling at him. Not when the dim lights make her hair glow like a cozy campfire in a cold night.

So, he lies down, at as respectful a distance as he can manage in this bed that is, while larger than his own, still evidently made for only one person. Her scent is in his nose, his eyes caught in the intricate braids in her hair, and he wonders how, in the name of the Ten, he is supposed to find any sleep tonight.

[the-insomniac-emporium]

I love your writing.

if it's not too much trouble may i make a request? I'm thinking the Dimitrescu women meeting and/or courting a fellow immortal.

the circumstances of the immortal's powers and possession of immorality are entirely up to you. I just like the idea of them meeting someone they could literally spend forever with...because they deserve it ❤

I wasn't sure if you wanted a story or headcanons? I went with HCs, here, but if you wanted more of a drabble or whatever just lemme know and I'll write something like that.

Also, I got excited and carried away so this has the whole Dimitrescu family, plus shorter ones for both Mother Miranda and Donna. Admittedly Alcina's is also a little on the shorter side? I tried to write everything that came to mind, but I am kinda tired right now, sorry. Might reblog this and add some more later.

(Under read-more for length)

Cassandra:

Tries (and fails) to hide her excitement. Mortality is one of the bigger things that has made her keep her distance to others, at least in the past. Every Maiden she’s ever been the slightest bit smitten with, up until this point, has been incredibly fragile. Seeing as she’s not exactly the softest person, one can easily imagine why that would be a turn off for her. But now that’s no longer a problem!

On the other had… having an immortal partner gives Cassandra pause. Why? Because what if they breakup? Normally, she can just, ahem, “dispose” of any exes (regardless of how much it hurts) so she doesn’t have to see them/deal with them anymore. If that’s not an option, she’ll definitely take longer than usual to do anything about her feelings. She wants to be sure, 100%, before she gets in over her head. Chances are she won’t hold back for as long as she wants though.

Likely to have a loud, messy confession. She’ll have been avoiding you for a few days, always ducking out of whatever rooms you enter, leaving you both hurt and confused. After enlisting the help of her sisters, you’ll be able to corner her outside. She’ll tell you, under no uncertain circumstances, to leave her alone. But you’ll refuse, demanding an explanation.

“I thought we had something. I thought you cared,” you’ll snap, eyes watering. “If that’s changed… if I was wrong, just tell me. I’ll leave and I’ll never come back.” Cue thunder and raining (because tropes) and Cassandra dramatically pulling you into a kiss, holding you so tightly you think you might bruise. Then she’s demanding that you stay, refusing to apologize but making it clear just how much she does care.

Being immortal, you’re not as defenseless as some of Cassandra’s past interests. Naturally, she doesn’t get quite as protective as she normally would. She’ll still have your back no matter what, ready to fight by your side against any foe, and will probably consider doing so a “fun bonding activity”. Oh, some lycans are encroaching on Dimitrescu territory? Time to go destroy them, as a power couple!

Despite having all the time in the world, Cassandra won’t change much of her actual courting behavior, nor the rate at which things advance. She’s still gonna get handsy fairly early on, still gonna “rah!” at you in the hallways, and still going to struggle with her jealousy.

Immortality Compatibility: I can see Cassandra going for another vampire (or vampire adjacent) creature, or someone demonic. She likes her lovers a bit rough, with some nice bite to their personalities. If you’ve got sharp teeth, or claws, or glowing eyes? Oh boy, she’s gonna be making heart eyes at you all the time.

Bela:

If your immortality isn’t immediately obvious, Bela is over the moon with joy when she finds out. Her eyes will go wide for a moment, before she tries to seem calm (so as to not freak you out), but her heart is pounding. This is what she’s been hoping for. As much as Mother Miranda has done for her family, there’s no guarantee that she’d be willing to give more. Even if Miranda granted Bela’s lover her “gift”, there was no telling what the results would be, or if the lover would survive. Now that there’s no need for such a transformation, it’s far easier for Bela to imagine herself in love (and eventually be in love).

Slow-burn romance over a decade or longer, oops. Doesn’t even necessarily mean to take things so slowly, just doesn’t feel a need to rush things, preferring that they develop organically. With both of you having unlimited time, you’re both used to working on a very large timescale. Maidens watching the two of you probably place bets on how long it’ll take you to hold hands for the first time. Everyone knows it’s coming, but no matter how much Cassandra and Daniela complain, Bela refuses to jump into things. By the time the two of you are officially together, you’re probably madly in love with each other.

More protective than Cassandra, if only because she knows just how rare you are. Immortal or not, you likely still have a weakness, and Bela will do everything in her power to make sure no one else knows what it is. If applicable, she will also ensure she has a countermeasure readily available. For example: If you were weak to fire, she’d make sure that the castle keeps extinguishers handy, just in case. Though they should probably already do that. Not that the Dimitrescu family cares much for OSHA compliance.

Somehow grows more in love with you with every passing year, and makes sure that you know this. Whether you’ve been together for one year or one century (because in this house we ignore canon), she’s always performing little acts of love, giving constant reminders of how strongly she feels. Gifts, special dates, book recommendations, etc.

Immortality Compatibility: Bela seems like the type to go for someone with a calming presence, and perhaps somewhat of a contrast to herself. I can picture her with someone somewhat angelic, or druidic, someone very in tune with nature. She’d love to feed deer with you and relax in the forest! Or lay against a tree by your side, listening to you talk about various microorganisms for hours at a time.

Daniela:

Practically tackles you when she finds out/connects the dots. This is just like one of her romance novels, where a lonely (attractive as fuck) immortal spends years in isolation before finally meeting the love of their life, who they get to spend the rest of eternity with. Absolutely ecstatic about the whole situation. Won’t stop kissing you and pulling you close, rambling about how great it’s gonna be to spend your lives together. Honestly? Kind of overwhelming. You might have to remind her a few times that you don’t have to rush into things, considering you have all the time in the world.

Introduces you to people as her “super cool/rad immortal life partner”. Genuinely cannot bring herself to not brag about you. If her sisters haven’t found someone like you yet, you can bet that Daniela will tease them about it all the time (much to their annoyance). If Momma Alcina doesn’t, though? Dani will keep her thoughts to herself, thank you very much (being grounded at her age does not impress the s/o).

Tries not to show it, but she’s actually very nervous. You’re immortal! You’ve probably seen a lot of shit (she certainly has)! Worries about keeping you interested in her, though she would never admit it. This tends to lead to her performing ridiculous acts to showcase her affection, regardless of the cost or, like, whether or not you’d even enjoy whatever she has planned. In order to counter her anxiety, you’ll want to reassure her whenever you can, and give her plenty of “I love you”s.

Strikes a decent balance between Cassandra’s nonchalant attitude and Bela’s protectiveness. Will defend you if you need it, playing up the romantic aspect, but also entirely willing to hide behind you in a scary situation.

Immortality Compatibility: Having probably read Twilight… Dani would date a werewolf, as long as they weren’t the smelly kind. Also interested in a sort of “magical”/elemental type, especially if their powers are influenced by emotions. In other words, if someone flirts with her in front of you, and your response is to subconsciously light your hands/the other person on fire? She thinks that’s hot, pun intended.

Alcina:

“Oh? Interesting,” she’d say, smiling softly (and trying to ignore the heat rushing to her face). Similarly to Cassandra, she’d try to play it off, not wanting to seem too excited. And, well, she’s not as excited as any of her daughters are. After all, she’s had more time than them to “get used” to the idea of outliving any potential romantic interests. So, she’s not exactly desperate for a relationship, even with someone she could spend an eternity with.

That being said, if she is romantically interested in them, she’s very relieved. Outliving a loved one can be incredibly traumatizing (fuck you c*pcom, you know what you did), and knowing that you’re safe (or at least safer than most) brings her no small amount of comfort.

Also, just glad to have another person close to her age around. Her daughters are somewhat stuck as young adults, and I imagine Alcina would want someone who gained immortality a little later in life, such as herself, as opposed to, ya know, reminding her of her children. That probably goes without saying. Hopefully.

More so than her daughters, Alcina would change her level of protectiveness depending on her s/o’s power level. If you’re a shapeshifter who can also turn into a big ass dragon? Then she’s not going to coddle you. If you’re immortal but still vulnerable, then she’s going to do her best to keep you safe, even going so far as to enlist the assistance of her daughters. “If you see a single Maiden growing mistletoe, or bringing some in from the village, let me know immediately,” or something like that, depending on your weakness.

Immortality Compatibility: Definitely would want someone in a situation similar to herself, having once been truly human, only to be “elevated” by something. Bonus points if you’re another disciple of Miranda, double bonus points if Miranda specifically “made” you to be Alcina’s boo/honey/darling/dear.

Bonus! Mother Miranda:

Oh god finally someone who won’t leave her (can’t leave her). No one can take you away from her, and that’s a relief that she’s been craving for over a century. Even if romance isn’t high on her priority list, she welcomes it with open arms, glad to have someone by her side through all of life’s chaos.

Admittedly slow to trust at first, probably just using you as a tool at first. But prove yourself enough, show that your devotion is more than just misdirected self-interest, and she’ll start to warm up to you. Forming a real relationship would likely take a couple decades, similar to with Bela. Once you are together, however, the two of you are inseparable in all matters.

You’d be her #1 follower, most trusted adviser, and the only person allowed to understand 100% of her thoughts and motives. While Miranda wouldn’t allow you to be seen as the same level as her (sorry), you’d still be a legend among the villagers. To them, you’re Mother Miranda’s champion, the epitome of a devoted follower that they all aspire to emulate. Not that they know the two of you are a couple, though.

Immortality Compatibility: No gimmicks, no cheap tricks, she wants (and respects) a fellow scientist, someone who clawed their way through adversity and forged themselves into something indestructible. Double the interest if you did so for a similar cause to her own, as she would appreciate your ability to relate to her suffering.

Bonus! Donna:

Someone to play with! FOREVER! No more losing people she cares about, no more accidentally breaking people, no more people scrambling to leave. Now that she has you, she can finally spend some quality time with another (living?) person. Honestly her dolls (or at least Angie) are just as excited as she is. Regardless of her relations with the other three Lords, Donna much prefers the company of a lover.

For real though she’s shy as hell and you might not even realize who’s pulling the strings until you’ve been in her house for over a year. She’d probably use her powers to trap you inside, at least at first, though they’d be nice hallucinations. You’d have to treat the dolls nicely, especially Angie, before she’d let you interact with her.

Eventually you’d be allowed to leave, and you’d be given a key to return whenever you wanted to. Assuming that you do, in fact, come back, the two of you would have a very, very slow romance, if only because of Donna’s anxiety. Hand holding makes both of your faces turn beet red, seriously.

Immortality Compatibility: *chanting* GHOST GIRLFRIEND GHOST GIRLFRIEND POLTERGEIST PARTNER POLTERGEIST PARTNER WOOHOO! Something with a flexible, only-sometimes-tangible form, who absolutely could have left at any time but didn’t because they wanted to stay.

[imo-chan-imagines]

Simon Says | Jujutsu Kaisen Drabble

Inumaki × fem!reader

Warnings: 18+, smut 👀, orgasm control like literally, smexy use of cursed speech huehuehue, but this is all CONSENSUAL, kind of dom Inumaki, also very desperate Inumaki 😳, he's also a teensy bit possessive of you, a single mention of you being a slut for him oops, Inumaki is aged up to 18+, desk sex 😎, drabble

A/N: This idea has been living rent free in my brain for, like, a month or more. And then recently, I saw somebody else had the same idea!! 🤩 They were talking about it in a regualr text post thingy, like a rambling idea, and I was like – now is my time. I must fulfill my destiny. Anyway, enjoy the smut ♡

⚠️ 18+ CONTENT! MINORS: PLEASE DO NOT INTERACT ⚠️

A whimper falls from your lips as his hips press flush against your ass, his entire length buried inside you.

He just loves how easily he slips in, your pussy all wet and ready for him. Adores it. He can fuck you anytime, anywhere.

And he does.

His hand trails down the length of your back, pressing you down against the cold, hard surface of his desk. It makes his cock push in against your insides, putting pressure in places you didn't even know it was possible to reach.

Your tongue falls out of your mouth in a stunted gasp, your hips starting to move on their own, trying to roll back onto him.

So eager, he muses to himself.

Inumaki groans, feeling your walls already beginning to flutter and clench as you cream around him. So sensitive and slutty, and just for him. Only for him.

He wants to move. But he waits, allowing you to slowly adjust to him as you shallowly fuck yourself back onto him, before finding a hold on your hips.

He eases himself out, taking his time dragging his shaft against your walls, then thrusts back into you, all the way to the hilt, making his balls slap your clit.

That first thrust is all he can manage to take slowly. He needs to go deeper and faster.

He settles into a rhythm, losing himself in the feeling of your velvety walls taking him so well. His hips are pounding into you, ravaging your insides.

"T-Toge," you mewl, unable to form a sentence.

Papers slip off the desk as it starts to lurch forwards with his movements, but he doesn't care. He keeps going.

It's desperate, lustful fucking. And you're lying face down and drooling on the desk, submitting to it.

It isn't long before his thighs are shaking and his cock is twitching inside you with every thrust, about to burst inside your quivering pussy at any moment.

And you know what comes next.

Leaning down, his pace unrelenting as his chest presses into your back, his lips ghost over your ear.

He breathes in your scent, opens his beautifully marked mouth, and lets the word take over your body.

"Cum."

© imo-chan-imagines 2021

[oddsnendsfanfics]

Unraveling Over the Holidays

Genre: Fan Fiction

Pairing: Henry Cavill/OFC

Warnings: Fluff. Implied Pandemic world we live in

Rating: G

Length: Drabble

Disclaimer: a strict work of fiction, I own nothing except the original characters and the plot line. In no way am I affiliated to any of it.  

A/N: Inspired by the need to write more Henry and Nell, along with Henry’s latest IG post and here we have it. 

Henry Cavill Master List

“Almost have it, Wild Boy.” Henry announced looking into the abyss of the computer they were attempting to build.  This was their second this year, a true feat. Rarely did Henry and Ivan get the time to break down and rebuild their own systems. It was a welcome hobby, keeping them busy when there wasn't much else to do these days.

They had been working away on the project since breakfast. Frustrated mumbling and grunting seemed to be the only sounds coming from the other room. Nell listened, checking in on them from time to time, waiting for them to finish. Today was the day they were going to finally trim their Christmas tree. After days of waiting, it would finally be a sight to behold. Or as much a sight to behold as they could manage. All in all Nell felt that she decorated a pretty damn fine looking tree.

It was shortly after lunch, when Nell began to get annoyed. When she'd brought in a plate of sandwiches and asked her husband and son if they would be done soon, both had told her that they needed ten more minutes. Three hours and one boasting Instagram photo later...

“Dad, I think I have this backwards.” Ivan furrowed his brow staring at the piece that he was attempting to put in.

“Let me look.” Henry moved to take a closer inspection.

Not wanting the break anything, risking a costly repair. Ivan was learning fast and enjoyed working with his hands. More than that, he really enjoyed the uninterrupted time with his dad. “Not backwards, but the next slot over.” Instructing his son how to put the piece in properly.

Neither of them seeming to notice or care that Nell had drug out their boxes of Christmas decorations. Outside, she and Henry had strung lights in a few bushes and around their garden early in the month. Wanting to get it done in case they got an unexpected cold or worse. Inside Nell had put up her favourite battery operated candles, the old fashioned looking ones that stood in the windows. Every window in the farm house had a candle display. The kitchen had lights and a few decorations, the sitting room, the office, and even the bathrooms were ready.

All they needed was to get the tree decorated. Presents under a naked tree was plain wrong.

“Henry, Ivan.” Nell tapped her foot on the floor, her arms folded across her chest. Huffing at the two of them. She should have known better than to let them tear apart that damn computer this morning.

“I think she saw.” Ivan wasn't doing a very good job at whispering, his mother could hear him on the other side of the room. Nell rolled her eyes. Of course she had saw the photo, over 3,000 people had saw that photo and it had only taken five minutes.

“What is it, darling?” Henry leaned back in his chair, glancing over his shoulder at his wife. Smiling sweetly, his usual trick when he wanted to attempt getting out of something.

“Tree.” She gestured to the tree behind her.

“What about it? Is it too dry? Ivan, didn't I ask you to water that this morning?” Shaking his head, Henry glanced at his son.

“I did, dad.” Ivan huffed, holding the light at the perfect angle to see inside the box.

“Guys, can we please decorate this tree? It's been here since Sunday.”

“We'll get to it.”

“When? It's already Friday. Henry, we have had this in here for nearly a week. A naked, boring, lackluster tree.” Lecturing, Nell rubbed her temples, “Christmas is in a week! A week! This is the latest we have ever left the tree.”

Setting down his manual, Henry pushed his chair away from the desk, standing to observe the tree. He hadn't thought it was that big of a deal, they had gone last week and picked out the tree, Henry wasn't sure that this would be the final spot for the Christmas icon. Something Nell would assume was an excuse.

He should have taken the photo from the other side, oops. Had he not mentioned the bare tree to the world, his wife likely wouldn't have been making such a deal about it. Until now, Nell had been avoiding it as much as him and Ivan.

“Do you want to do it today?” Wrapping his arms around her waist, he kissed the back of her head. “The wild boy and I are more than happy to let you take over.”

If she wanted to decorate the tree, by herself, it would have been done hours ago.

“Nice try, but this was to be a family activity.” Nell furrowed her brow, huffing. “Why can't you stop fiddling with that damn box for twenty minutes?”

“I love you, Mrs. Cavill.” He knew exactly how to win this battle.

“Not working.”

“Worth a try,” Henry shrugged giving her a kiss on the cheek. Squeezing his arms tighter around his wife, he groaned. Caving to her whim. “I'm going to make us some cocoa, then we can get this tree decorated. Wild boy, help your mum get the decorations out, please.”

“Uh, no.” Shaking her head, Nell escaped his clutches. “I am going to make the cocoa,” gently tapping the tip of Henry's nose she grinned, “You and Ivan can untangle the lights. I have been asking you all week, get to work.”

Laying on the floor by the tree, Kal boofed and yawned. He had heard her asking multiple times over the week, but what could be do about it? Stretching, he stood cautiously to keep his wagging tail from smashing the tree. Nell really hated picking pieces of Christmas tree from his fur. Following her to the kitchen, he hurried when her steps approached the treat cupboard.

“You'd help me, wouldn't you bear?” Spotting her shadow, Nell smiled, tossing him a biscuit. “Honestly, those two are more and more difficult every year. I feel like I'm raising two children sometimes.”

Oh lovely, here she was, in the middle of the kitchen talking to the dog. Whatever, at least Kal would listen to her gripe. Pulling down a mug and two tumbler glasses, Nell set the kettle to boil and then picked up the bottle of Johnnie Walker that had appeared on the counter a few days ago. Likely a gift from someone.

One candy cane hot cocoa and two whiskey and rosemary sours, at the ready. In the other room, Nell could hear Ivan and Henry singing along to I Want a Hippopotamus for Christmas. Loudly Ivan belted out the line about the hippo being a vegetarian, Henry swaying back and forth as he laughed and unraveled the lights. To Nell's credit, when she had put away their Christmas decorations the previous year, she had done a much nicer job than Henry.

“Looking good, gentlemen.” Complimenting their work, Nell smiled handing Ivan the cocoa. “Yours is on the tray,” she kissed Henry's cheek. “I decided to make use of the Johnnie Walker.” She winked.

Taking his drink, Henry smiled. “It's your bottle,”

“Mine? Did you buy it?” Nell sat on the floor beside Ivan, working at picking out more decorations.

“No, it came the other day. Some guy dropped it off, did you not read the card?” Henry laughed, joining his family on the floor. Nell shook her head. “Hold on,” He stood back up, groaning a little.

“Mum,” Ivan spoke pulling out another bundle of lights, “when the tree is done, can I watch a movie?”

“You don't want to help dad finish with the computer?” Sorting the other items in the box, Nell sat back on her heels reaching for her drink.

“I guess, but I think I'd like to watch a movie with you. If you have time.”

“For you, wild boy, I have all the time in the world.” Nell leaned over giving him a kiss on the head. Wrinkling his nose, Ivan brushed his hand over his dark curls, resetting them the way he liked them. “Which movie did you want to watch?”

“I don't know, we can find one.” Ivan worked away at the strand of lights, getting them ready to go on the tree, when Henry came back in. His mother wasn't tall enough to read the top, which meant his dad would have to start the lights.

Decorating the tree with his parents, the three of them, felt a little odd. For as long as Ivan could remember there was always a huge production to decorating their tree. This year was quiet, like most things throughout the year. They would be video calling family over Christmas Eve and Christmas Morning, instead of having them there in person. They were supposed to spend Christmas with the Stewart family this year, as sad as Ivan was to miss his trip he understood.

“Here you are,” Henry waved the small card around, crossing the floor to hand it to Nell.

One the outside was a fancy script, containing her name in gold lettering. Opening the small card, the kind one gets with a delivery of flowers, she admired the generic looking winter scene.

“To Nelly & Superman, Merry Xmas. May 2021 be better than whatever dumpster fire this is,” she read out loud, chuckling at the sentiment. “Love always, JPS. It's from Jordan.”

“How lovely, didn't he send one last year as well?”

“He did, but he sent that really nice Riesling.” Nell confirmed. Since Jordan hadn't been able to make it for the wedding, he'd sent the gift instead. “Along with the Ardbeg, for our wedding present.”

Henry nodded, he remembered drinking both vividly. Although he didn't get much of the Ardbeg, because Nell had deemed it off limits to anybody who wasn't her. Past and present gifts sorted and settled, Henry stood up with the first string of lights in hand. “I think it's time we get these on, what about you?”

“About time.” Sticking out her tongue, Nell pulled out the tinsel and a box of ornaments. “Gosh, Cavill, you have been taking forever.”

“Can't rush perfection, my darling.” Henry smirked, attaching the first string of soft white lights to the stout tree in the corner.

“Is that why we took so long?” Ivan teased helping his mother carefully lift ornaments from boxes.

“Of course.” Henry nodded, excusing his procrastination.  “You know, I do love this tree.”

“It is a lovely tree. It's the perfect size.” Nell agreed with her husband. “I'm glad that we didn't go with a monstrous tree this year.”

Henry and Ivan had a habit of going for the biggest tree in the lot. This year, Nell had put her foot down, demanding that they pick something reasonable.

“I thought you liked a big, thick one.” Snorting, Henry paused to watch Nell's reaction.

“You, stop.” She wagged her finger at him. “Wild boy, can you go over to that blue storage bin and get the crystal star, please?”

The tree topper had been a gift from Henry's parents, the first year she and Henry had “unofficially” lived together. Nell had used it every year since, upon Henry's insistence that she kept it. Their first Christmas married, last year, his mother had wanted to gift them a new one. Politely Nell had declined, saying that she loved the one they had. Although, she was more than happy to accept the matching ornament set that went with it, as a late Wedding present.

“I love this star,” Taking the carefully wrapped box from Ivan; Nell placed it safely out of the way of Kal and Cavills.

“Lights are on.” Henry happily announced, clapping his hands together. “What's next?”

“Tinsel and bows.” Ivan sprung up with a card of tinsel, waving it wildly at his father. “Can I help?”

“What if I put on the tinsel, while you tie on the bows?”

“Deal.” Ivan nodded grabbing the gold and silver bows that Nell had made. They would soon be in need of some new bows. “Mum, momma, mum.” he bounced, “Want to help?”

“Sure, you take the gold and I will take the silver?” Standing to join Ivan and Henry at the tree. Nell took the card of silver bows, carefully tying them on to the boughs of the tree.

Over the next half hour or so, their tree began to come to life. The soft colours adorning the vibrant green really stood out in the otherwise neutral room. Laughing and teasing one another, Henry grabbed Ivan around the waist, spinning him – a safe distance from the tree – while Kal danced around them barking excitedly. Nell watched them with joyful delight, after the year they had endured it was nice to see her husband and son still keeping their happiness.

[be-the-spark-flyboy]

Invisible String (1/3)

A/n: This was supposed to be a drabble requested by @spider-starry​ for the cliche prompts list. But then my hand slipped, so damn fking hard, so ya oops.

Pairing: Poe x Reader (modern au)

Warnings: Swearing, angst, nightmares, brief mention of dead parents

Prompts: There's only one bed and we sleep as far away as possible from each other but wake up cuddling + We dated in high school but then you moved away but now you’re back in town

Word count: 4k~

---

So I talked to the manager. We have a slight issue,” Rey grimaced, wringing her hands. “We’re short of one room, and they said that they’re fully booked. No spares.” She sighed, throwing herself back onto the couch.

“What? How did that happen?” You asked her, taking a seat beside her.

“I may have miscounted the number of rooms we had to book,” Rey winced, “I mean, planning a wedding is so stressful, why is it so stressful?”

“Okay, okay. So what do we do now?” Guests were just slowly starting to arrive. You hoped Rey already had a solution to the problem.

“Um, Finn suggested, since you have a room to yourself, maybe you wouldn’t mind sharing with someone?” Then she quickly added, “No pressure, only if you’re comfortable, or I can find some other solution.”

You had been helping Finn and Rey plan their wedding for months. The beach resort you had booked for the wedding had been a popular one. Of course, they were fully booked. There was no other solution.

“Fine, I guess, if the other person is okay with it?” you shrugged.

“Oh, that’s great! You’re a true lifesaver,” Rey exclaimed.

“Who is it?” You asked.

“Um, about that,” she hesitated.

“Rey?” You narrowed your eyes at her. Who could it be that she’s so reluctant to tell you?

“It’s Poe,” No.

“Rey,” This was not happening. Share a fucking room? With Poe motherfriggin Dameron? Your fucking ex-boyfriend? Was Rey out of her goddamn mind?

“You can still back out! I’m not forcing you to do anything. It's just that, you know my grandfather. He’s going to make a big deal out of this if he finds out we have problems with the lodgings.” Rey launched into a full-on rant which you knew could last for several minutes if you didn’t stop her. ”Oh god, why did I even send Palpatine an invitation? I don’t even like him!”

“Rey, it's okay,” You sighed, interrupting her ramble. “I’ll do it,” Of course you’d do it. It was your best friend's wedding. You’d do just about anything to keep her happy.

This time she threw herself on top of you, tackling you with a hug. You had worked way too hard on this wedding for someone like Palpatine to spoil the event nitpicking at everything. If the price for that was to spend two nights in the same bed as your ex, you’d do it, for Finn and Rey.

“Great! Finn said Poe should be reaching in an hour or two,” Oh gods, that was fast. But it's better to get it over with right?

“Have you told him yet?” you asked her.

“Oh, not yet. I wanted to get your approval first,”

“What if he isn’t okay with it?”

“Nah, I don’t think that would be a problem,” She assured you.

—-

Poe hesitated before your door. Would it be too late to turn around and run? He was absolutely terrified of facing you. You agreed to share a room with him, so you didn’t hate him right?

Three short raps to the door then Poe waited for you to open it. He raked a hand through his hair, shorn to a length that would be considered neat. So unlike the unruly curls flopping onto his forehead and the full beard he was sporting just last week, dangerously toeing the line between sexy bed hair and caveman. It didn’t feel right to show up to a wedding like that. Especially since he was the best man.

Poe felt his chest tighten like a rope was tied around him, twisting tighter with each passing second until he felt like he couldn’t breathe anymore. The door swung open and the remaining air emptied from his lungs. There you stood, looking at him. It was you, really you.

Those eyes he hadn’t seen in more than a decade. It really shouldn’t have affected him that badly after so long but he had no control over the way his heart threw itself against his ribs over and over again. No control over his hands as he white-knuckled the backpack slung across one shoulder, trying to stop the shaking. He definitely shouldn’t have felt lightheaded just looking at you.

If he wasn’t so lost in his own emotions, he would’ve noticed that you weren’t doing so well yourself. You were pretty sure you were hearing the dial tone playing somewhere. Or was it just in your head? Your mouth worked but not a single word came out. What could you possibly say to him? It was Poe, but at the same time, he looked nothing like the boy you knew more than a decade ago.

The teenager who had so carelessly shrugged off the love you offered him, leaving everything behind in search of something better. But that was more than a decade ago and the man who stood before you had changed. Just like you were no more the eighteen-year-old too heartbroken to leave your room for weeks. No, you weren’t the same people anymore.

“I um, need to go check on the catering. M-make yourself comfortable,” You threw a forced smile at him, pushing past him before he can react.

No, you didn’t have to check on the catering, it wasn’t arriving until next morning, but you just threw the first excuse that popped up in your head before you were forced to make small talk with the last person you ever wanted to talk to.

Poe watched you almost sprint to the elevator, too dumbfounded to act. Your first words to him in years was you brushing him off. Good start.

He could’ve just asked Finn about you, but Poe felt like that would be prying. If you wanted him to know you would’ve told him, right? If you wanted him, you would’ve spoken to him. Poe sighed, walk into the room sitting on the edge of the bed, yanking off his boots and socks.

A lot had happened over the last decade, from joining the air force against his father’s wishes to watching his best friend get shot out of the sky and being honourably discharged, a broken man returning home with the horrors of battle and loss etched into his being. But Kes was there with open arms, ready to put his son back together, no matter how long it took. If he ever had the chance to raise a child of his own, Poe wanted to be exactly like his father.

There was once when Poe had thought too little of the simple routine of a normal life. How could anyone settle for doing the same thing over and over again for decades? But now he yearned for any type of normalcy in his own life.

He wondered if you had it. A normal life, going to work in the morning, returning to loving boyfriend at night. Date nights in the weekends, planning vacations to get away from it all. You came here alone, that was saying something, right? Or did you have someone waiting for you back home?

Poe should really be paying more attention to his surroundings, because he had been sitting on the edge of the bed, thinking, for five whole minutes before he realized it. He really should’ve seen this coming. The room was supposed to be for one person. So there was one queen-sized bed in the middle of the room, staring back at him, mocking him.

Why did he agree to this? Why did you agree to this? It wasn’t that he had any problems keeping his hands to himself. He’d more sooner bite his own fingers off than laying one on you without your consent.

There weren’t any other options for him. The only other furniture in the room was a table and a chair, and he sure as hell wasn’t going to let you sleep anywhere except the bed. He’d slept in worse places, a chair wasn’t that bad. Or perhaps he would forgo sleep for the night. He needed a shower, and maybe just a few minutes of sleep. Then he would get out of your way.

---

It was late when you decided to return to your room. It had been hours since the sun had set and your feet hurt from all the standing. You were more than ready to go back to your room and crash in that bed that looked so damn inviting.

There was only one problem. One that you couldn’t just ignore so easily, because you had to share a bed with said problem. In all honesty, you had no idea how you felt about Poe. Surely seeing him after all these years felt a tiny bit weird and very nerve-wracking, especially since the last words you had exchanged with him weren’t very kind. You didn’t hate Poe Dameron. That was for sure. But you had absolutely no idea how he felt about you.

You found an empty bench, facing the midnight sea, watching the waves crashing into the sand. A calm settled in your bones, the kind that made you wish you could be in that moment forever. No wonder people were willing to pay so much for a few nights here.

You could hear the soft strumming of a guitar from a distance and that caused your thoughts to propel straight towards the one person you were trying not to think of. The goofy little songs he would sing to you, strumming his guitar with deft fingers like he was born to make music.

Poe Dameron was born to do a lot of things. Apparently, loving you was not one of them.

You sighed heavily into the crisp night air. It was getting late. And as much as you loved it there, you still had to go to sleep soon if you wanted to be up in time the next morning.

You were surprised to see that the lights were still on in your room, but when you stepped inside you saw Poe curled up in a fetal position, fast asleep on one side of the bed. His curls looked a little damp and the smell of soap lingered in the air from the shower he took. A small mercy, at least you didn’t have to make small talk until the next morning.

Poe looked so calm and at peace when he was sleeping. You definitely didn’t share Poe’s sentiments about prying into your personal life. You were aware of everything that happened in his life since he left. Finn had told you about the state he was in when he returned after being discharged from the air force almost two years ago. You will never admit it but you still cared about him after all these years, you never stopped caring about him.

Silently, you padded around the room, careful not to wake him as you changed into your soft t-shirt and sleep shorts and slid into the bed beside him.

---

Poe jolted awake, shirt soaked in sweat, gasping for air as the image of a blazing cockpit remained seared into the back of his eyes. The disorienting darkness wasn’t helping in the least as his vision blurred with tears. The only thing he could feel was a warm hand on his chest and another on his face. All he could hear was the ringing in his ears and a voice calling out his name in the distance like he was miles away.

The only light was coming from the glass balcony doors. It took Poe a few long seconds to recognize where he was. He flattened his palms on top of the sheets, the soft cotton cool and smooth beneath his palms, as he forced air into his burning lungs.

He wasn’t there anymore, he was safe.

“Poe?” your voice came clearer as you smoothed the tears off his face. Your face came into view above him in the dark, eyebrows pulled together in worry. Poe felt your fingers in his hair, running through the damp strands fingernails lightly scraping his scalp. You didn’t realize it, but that helped more than anything to ground him as the panic finally released its hold on him.

“I'm okay,” Poe croaked out when he felt like he could breathe again, but his whole body still felt tense. He wasn’t okay by any means, his hands still shook when you handed him a water bottle from your side table, but at least the worst was over. Poe pulled himself up by his wobbling arms, sitting against the headboard.

“Nightmare?” your voice cut through the heavy silence in the room as you joined him. He nodded, head downcast, staring at the bottle in his hands. “Wanna talk about it?” Poe looks at you like that was the last thing he ever expected you to say to him. You were offering to help him? After what he did to you? Sure, that was years ago, he was young and dumb, but you two never really had the chance to talk about it. He was under the impression that you hated him, he surely deserved it.

But you didn’t look like you hated him and he couldn’t help but notice how adorable you looked with your hair all mused up, swaddled in an oversize t-shirt. The urge to wrap his arms around you, lay his head on your chest and never let go threatened to swallow him whole. How could he have been so stupid to ever let you go?

You tilted your head to the side in question as the silence stretched between you. Oh god, he had been staring the whole time. He looked away from you, clearing his throat.

“No, not really,” he replied. He’d done enough talking, he just wanted to forget about it. Going back to sleep was definitely not an option and he didn’t want to keep you awake any longer. “Sorry I woke you up, you should go back to sleep,” his voice was barely a whisper by the end of the sentence. He was just so tired.

“It's okay,” you settled back into your side of the bed but Poe made no move like he had any intention to go back to sleep. “You’re not going back to sleep?” you ask.

“No, I don’t think so,” He answered truthfully. He didn’t want to risk getting pulled into another nightmare. The room fell silent again, the only sound the barely audible distant crashing of waves. Suddenly the thought of you going back to sleep and leaving him alone with his thoughts didn’t seem so ideal. Poe felt his chest constrict in barely contained panic when you spoke.

“How have you been, Poe?” You quietly asked in the dark, almost like you didn’t expect a response from him. Poe swallowed the lump in his throat and burrowed deeper into the covers until the two of you laid facing each other.

“Not too bad,” he shrugged, his voice barely holding as he spoke, but he carried on nevertheless. “What about you?”

“Same, I guess,” you replied. Poe could make out your eyes glinting in the dark, suddenly thrown back into his childhood bedroom when you would sneak in late at night. When you were best friends, you’d spend the night in each other’s company chatting and laughing in hushed tones, careful not to wake up his father. Then you grew older and talking turned to other activities. If Kes knew, he never spoke of it.

“How is Kes doing?” you asked as if you were thinking the same thing. An admittedly large part of him hoped you were. Those memories got him through so many nights when he was bunking with his squadmates but never felt more alone. They weren’t easy to forget. You weren’t easy to forget.

“He’s doing fine. Great, actually,” The thought of his father made him smile. Maybe that was your ploy. “You know, he actually managed to finish that motorcycle restoration he was working on. A few years ago, but he wouldn’t let me touch it,” That made you chuckle, and oh how he missed that sound.

“He still doesn’t trust you after you broke the taillight,” you recounted.

“It was an accident, for goodness sake,”

Silence slowly took hold again as your laughter died down, and it hit you more heavily than ever. You missed Poe so much. Sure, he hurt you when he up and left so easily as if you meant next to nothing to him, but he meant everything to you. You shouldn’t have let the bitterness and resentment get the best of you. You missed so much of his life.

“Mom’s sickness got worse after I graduated,” you spoke again. “I couldn’t stay in the house after she died so I sold it. And college wasn’t great either, I almost dropped out,”

You shrugged as though it wasn’t a big deal. It couldn’t have been easy moving to a different state all on your own, with no one to lean on, no one to go to for help. At least you had Finn and Rey.

“But things worked out, and everything is okay now,” you smiled at him. Poe reached out and took your hand in his, shuffling closer to you.

“I’m sorry,” he whispered. The words felt too heavy, too shameful to even say out loud.

“For what?” You asked.

“I should’ve been there,”

“Poe,” you sighed. “You know, I was so upset after you left, I refused to even talk about you for like almost a year after that,” He looked like he was going to interrupt with another apology but you stopped him. “Senior year was hell after you graduated, even with Finn and Rey right there. But you know what? I understood why you wanted to leave so desperately.” Oh? This wasn’t where he expected this to go but he let you continue anyways.

“I mean, it was a great place to grow up and all but there really wasn’t any future there. I saw it when I finally graduated the year after. I’m not saying I supported your decision to just throw away everything and leave so suddenly like that. It’s just that, neither of us was mature enough to handle that decision properly,” Poe nodded slowly. Looking back, there were so many things he would change if he could. You were right, you were both so young and dumb.

“You know how sometimes you feel like if you don’t do take an opportunity when its right there, you’ll never see it again? That’s what it felt like,” He sighed. “I just really wanted to follow mom’s footsteps so badly. Dad wasn’t too thrilled either. He said I should take more time to think about something so life-altering,”

Did he regret it? The question hung heavily in the air between the two of you, lying on the tip of your tongue, rattling around his head and not for the first time. Some part of him didn’t want to answer.

He didn’t want to regret it. Didn’t want to voice out that the biggest ambition of his life was the reason he laid there a broken shell of a man in many ways. But one thing he knew was that if he hadn’t chased after that desire, if he had let himself take the ‘safe’ option, he would’ve hated himself.

I missed you. Those three words he held back. What right did he have to say it when he was the one that left when he was the one to cause you so much hurt?

“Can we just-” You hesitated. Was it too much to ask for? “Can we just be friends again?” You asked meekly.

Just a few hours ago, he was under the impression that you wanted nothing to do with him. He was still reeling from the fact that you even considered talking to him. You wanted to be friends again? There was nothing more he wanted.

“Yeah, okay,” he replied, very eloquently.

---

Poe woke up to the soft scent of flowers. And then he realized that it was because his face was buried in your hair and he was smelling your shampoo. Poe rubbed the remaining dregs of sleep from his eyes as he fully awoke to you laying almost completely on top of him.

Your form gently rose and fell with every breath you took. Poe considered shifting away from you before you woke up but your arms were tightly wound around him and your weight was settled over him, so warm and soft. He didn’t want to move.

Shit, how did you two end up like this? The last thing he remembered was talking to you, catching up on the decade he had left you behind for. Did you fall asleep like this? How were you going to react to it? He sure as hell didn’t want to make you feel uncomfortable. But the way your face was buried in the crook of his neck gave him the impression that you weren’t exactly uncomfortable.

He was probably thinking too much about it. He was just thinking that he should go back to sleep and deal with it when you wake up when you slowly stirred awake. Poe froze as you lifted your head and blinked at him blearily.

“Mornin’” you rasped before you realize the position you were in. You were so close to him, you could feel his breath fanning against your cheek and your face heated.

“Good morning, sweetheart,” The pet name earned a soft, sleepy smile from you which sent his heart violently thundering in his chest. Hopefully, you didn’t hear it.

You planted a palm on the mattress beside his head, trying to lift yourself off him, but the only thing you managed to do was position yourself right above him as if your previous position wasn’t awkward enough.

You felt Poe’s hands on your hips steadying you on top of him as your elbow came down on the other side of his head, unintentionally caging him under you. Your mind was too sluggish to let you move, you decided, because you stayed there hovering above him unable to move.

Or maybe it was because he was looking at you like that. The heat in eyes robbed the oxygen from your lungs and you watched his throat bob as his grip on your waist became just a fraction harder. You should have moved but you felt frozen in place. He was so close. So close that you could kiss him if you tilted your head just a little-

The shrill sound of your alarm popped the small bubble the two of you found yourselves in. You jolted away from him, pawing at the side table as you reached to grab your phone.

The previous tension melted into an awkward silence as you set your phone back onto the side table. Did you almost kiss him? Christ, what were you thinking? Poe slowly sat up beside you.

“Um, sorry I kept you up for so long last night,” he gave you a small sheepish smile.

“No, it’s not a problem. I’ll be fine,” you assured him. “I um, I should go get ready,” you awkwardly gestured before getting out of the bed.

You had a long day ahead of you.

---

The Dameron taglist (open): @writefightandflightclub @arkofblake @yougottakeeponkeepinon @multifandomlife22 @skymerons @smol-peter-parker @rae-rae-patcha @demigod-dragonrider-schoolidol @hkmultifandom @cloud-leader @elmoakepoke @staringmoony @valhallavalkyrie9 @the-cry-of-youth @liadamerondjarin @m1rkw00dpr1ncess @takemepedropascal @xremember-me-notx @softly-sad @loserbelle

[something-tofightfor]

Beachfront (Drabble #10)

Pairing: Billy Russo x Reader

Word Count: 2170 

Rating: M (language, mentions of sex with multiple partners)

Author’s Note: So this one got long too... but I had to flesh things out and it would have felt really rushed otherwise... so you got two pieces that were closer to one-shot length. Oops. This is NOT related to any of my other Billy x Reader stories. 

“There’s sand in my damn shoes.” Billy’s voice reached your ears, and though you wanted to laugh, you knew that if you did, he’d be even angrier. “I don’t get why we’re here when we could be back at the hotel bar right now.” Rolling your eyes, you stood, brushing your hands off against the backs of your shorts. “You gonna answer me, or are you going to -”

 “Billy.” You stopped in front of him, putting your hands on your hips. “We’re here because you told me that you’ve never really gone to the beach before, and I wanted to spend some time with you before you leave.” You swallowed, shaking your head. “That’s what friends are for, right?” Is that what we are? Friends? 

 “Yeah, I guess.” Billy was taking off his shoes, nose wrinkled. “But sand? I’ll get enough of that shit over there, and I don’t want to -” He stopped talking as he tilted the sneaker over, the sand streaming out of it. You watched quietly, the moonlight making Billy’s skin look even paler than usual. You didn’t just want to be Billy’s friend anymore, even though you knew how he was with women. You didn’t want to hear the stories about the ones he took to bed, the ones that didn’t get the hint when he was already gone in the morning, or the ones that he asked to leave in the middle of the night. You didn’t want to be the girl that had turned Billy Russo down anymore, because you were done beating yourself up over it. 

 Seven months ago, Billy had approached you at a bar and flat out asked you to go home with him. You’d laughed in his face, explaining that while you were flattered, he’d done the same thing to your friend a week prior, and your sister before that. You knew who he was and what he was, and had no intention of getting into bed with him for a quick fuck. Even months later, you could still remember the look in his eyes as he’d told you that he would make it very worthwhile, not even batting an eye at the fact that you’d called him out. You hadn’t wavered in your resolve, but you admitted to your friends that you’d thought about what it could be like, what it would be like to be with Billy Russo. 

 And yet when you had firmly said no, he’d walked away and out the door of the bar alone (probably before going to another bar and looking for another girl) - and you thought that that would have been the last you’d see of Billy Russo (at least until he propositioned another friend of yours). But you were wrong, and only a few days later, you’d been stopped on the street as you headed home from work, a hand on your arm and a voice in your ear. 

 Billy had been dressed just as casually as he was in the bar, but there was sincerity in his voice as he apologized to you, pulling you off of the sidewalk and into an alcove next to someone’s front steps. “I shouldn’t have done that.” He spoke clearly as he shook his head, dark eyes boring into yours without relenting. “I’m an asshole and I know it, but I shouldn’t have done that, especially after I remembered your sister.” Billy’s lips pressed together, and you watched a muscle in his jaw twitch. “You turned me down, and I’m not usedta that, you know?” Your eye roll had been unconscious, but Billy had laughed loudly, perfectly white teeth on display as he’d thrown his head back. “God, you must hate me.” When he stopped laughing, he looked at you, taking a deep breath. “Let me give you my number, and if you ever want to let me take you out to dinner as an apology, let me know.” 

 Reluctantly, you’d taken his number and entered it into your phone, but you hadn’t used it for weeks, unsure of whether or not you ever would. But when you’d texted Billy after a shitty day at work, he’d responded almost immediately - and you’d met him for dinner that night. Billy hadn’t hit on you since the night of the dinner, hadn’t ever tried so much as to hold your hand, and you realized after only a few months of hanging out with him that with you, he’d learned his lesson. You weren’t another bimbo, you weren’t another nameless woman that would get one opportunity to crawl into bed with him just because he batted his eyelashes at you - you’d become his friend, a small circle that was reserved for only a select few. 

 While that was great, you’d realized only a short time into the friendship that it wasn’t enough. You didn’t expect Billy to drop everything and date you, didn’t expect him to change his ways just because you wanted more, but it was hard - and with him leaving again soon, you knew that your time was running out. “Hey, you alright?” Billy set his shoe down on the sand and looked up at you, frowning. “You’re quiet.” 

 “I am.” you shrugged your shoulders, pointing at the spot next to him on the bench. “Can I sit?” He scooted to the left, giving you more room and you sat, being sure to leave room between you. “Thanks.” Both of you stared out at the water for a few minutes, the waves barely visible in the fading light. “I wanted to bring you here, Billy, because it’s where we came a lot as kids, and I have some good memories out here. We’d come out and sit on the sand at night with my mom and dad, and Jen and I would run around. We’re only about an hour from the city, but it feels like so much more.” He didn’t say anything, and a quick glance at him told you he was staring out over the water, eyes focused on something that you couldn’t see. “You don’t ever go on vacation, Russo… and I wanted to … I don’t know, get you out of the city, and….” And away from all of those women, away from… 

 “You just wanted to spend time with me.” Billy’s voice was quiet, carried by the wind, and you finally looked over at him, surprised to see that he was still looking away. “Not many people would have been able to convince me to come here.” Billy finally turned his head toward you, and you fought to keep your hands on your lap instead of reaching out to touch his hair like you’d wanted to for so long. “I told you months ago that I never got a real vacation, that I never went to the beach as a kid, and you bring me here now.” 

 “Yeah, Billy.” You gestured with both hands, chewing on your lip. “You’re leaving soon, and I figured that a change of scenery would be nice.” You paused, debating over whether or not to make the snarky comment on the tip of your tongue and chose to do so. Fuck it. “I’m sure there are a ton of willing women here too, we are near a resort and it’s prime beach season.” Something flashed in Billy’s eyes but it was gone before you could figure out what it was. “And we’ve got two rooms, so you don’t need to worry about -”

 “Shut up.” He’d never spoken to you in such a clipped tone, and you stopped talking immediately. “You really think that I’d fuck someone else on a trip with you?” Billy shifted, angling the top half of his body toward you. “Is that the kind of person you think I am?” He narrowed his eyes and you felt your chest go hollow. I shouldn’t have said that. 

 “We’re not dating, Billy. We’ve never… you can do whatever you want, I just wanted to bring you to the beach.” There was hurt in your voice, even though you’d tried to hide it. You fully expected Billy to take someone back to his room in the three nights you were staying in the hotel, but you hadn’t thought you’d have to discuss it with him. “Don’t hold back on my account.” The look in his eyes was back, but this time it wasn’t fleeting. He’s mad. 

 “Ask me how many women I’ve slept with in the last six months.” You shivered at his tone, pressing your lips together and staying silent. “Ask me. Now.” 

 “How many, Billy” Even as you spoke, you winced inwardly, not wanting to know the answer. Why is he doing this to me? 

 “Three.” Freezing, you furrowed your brow in confusion. “Three women.” But that doesn’t make sense, he’s told me about so many more, I… “What’s that look for, don’t you believe me?” You opened your mouth to reply, but Billy pushed off of the bench, stalking across the sand and toward the water. Shit. 

 “Billy, wait, I didn’t -” He didn’t stop, walking until he’d reached the place where the sand met the surf when the waves rushed in, not caring that the water was soaking his jeans and your bare legs and feet. “Billy, I don’t know what -” 

 “I know what you think of me.” He spoke quietly, eyes on the water, his hands jammed into his pockets. “What an asshole, right? What kind of guy hits on a girl and then continues to do so after he finds out that he fucked the girl’s sister and then never called.” I wasn’t even… “I’m a dick, I know it.” Billy shook his head, lip curling up in a sneer. “I don’t have anything to to offer anyone except for my body, you know? I’m a dumb Marine, never went to college, never had a good job, only have two fuckin’ nickels to rub together, but goddamn, do I have my looks.” He finally looked over at you, and though his words were harsh, he looked sad. “I don’t get turned down, but you did it without batting an eye.” 

 “Billy, you… it’s been months, I…” 

 “Doesn’t matter. I gave you my number hoping you’d use it and thinkin’ that we’d hook up and that would be it. I’d get what I wanted, and you’d… but it didn’t happen that way, and we started seeing each other and hanging out, and it was never about the sex.” Billy shook his head. “It’s never been that way before. Everyone just wants to fuck me, not get to know me, so I never give them a chance, because I don’t want to get hurt.” Not true, Billy. They all want to get to know you. “I’ve been hurt enough.” He turned to face you, hair whipping around his head. “But this? It hurts more.” 

 What? “I don’t know what you mean, Billy, but… you’ve been… there are so many other women, and you’ve told me, you…” He laughed, closing his eyes. 

 “I was trying to make you jealous. There were three after we went out for dinner that first time, but all of the others were from before. I wanted to get a reaction out of you, wanted you to put your foot down and say something.” Billy licked his lips, looking down. “I couldn’t be the one to tell you that I felt something for you when you don’t feel anything for me. That’s not how this works.” He finally smiled, but it was a ghost of his usual one. “I have a reputation to uphold.” You didn’t respond and just stared at Billy, watching as the sky darkened behind him. What is he saying? What… is this real? Does he… Mind racing, you stepped closer to Billy, still quiet. 

 “I forgave you for my sister months ago, Billy. You didn’t know.” He nodded, shoulders relaxing fractionally. “And…” You stopped, looking up at him and swallowing. This is what you want. Before you could stop yourself you stepped forward again and rose onto your toes, mouth against his for the first time. He didn’t react right away, but you felt him stiffen for a moment before he relaxed, his hands finding your hips and pulling you closer. “I wouldn’t turn you down now, Billy.” Forehead pressed against his, you shook your head once. “Even if it meant only one night with you.” I’d hate it, but I can’t help it. 

 You felt him inhale, his lips brushing yours, and then his tongue was out, moving against your lower one - slowly and deliberately as his fingers dug into your skin, a chill moving throughout your body. “Let’s start with this weekend, hmm?” You could barely hear him, but you nodded and then his mouth was on yours again, tongue pushing past your lips as your hands moved up from his shoulders - one going to the back of his neck, the fingers of the other running through his hair. If I’ve only got one weekend to get Billy Russo out of my system, I’m going to make the most of it. 

---

[trenchcoatkitten]

So I’ve been reading Temperature of the Heart, and you’ve mentioned how you have the whole thing written already. Can you describe what that’s like? What’s your writing process? How long does it take for you to write everything start to finish? Do you plan it all out or just kind of wing it? How long do you sit in an idea before you start?? Sorry about all the questions, I’m just so curious >_

bro!!! are you sure i will scream about writing for days omg

first of all THANK YOU its so freaking cool that you came to ask your questions and that you like my writing, im still sort of getting used to my writing not just being garbage that i read in the dark at 2am and never share with anybody, and i am always excited to answer questions waaaah 

(THIS IS GOING TO BE LONG I APOLOGIZE IM PUTTING A READING BREAK IN CAUSE I WENT OFF BRO, IM THE WOOOOORST) 

my process is pretty weird, it’s kind of all over the place? I’m kind of a halfway planner halfway pantser. I have an idea and usually make some disjointed notes about character and the main idea, in my phone or maybe on a google doc, and then a pinterest board maybe? Something to get excited about, a visualization. I ALWAYS tell myself im going to make an outline first and then i ALWAYS just jump right into writing because I’m too excited/impatient to wait. give me words on a page. give me dialogue. 

Usually when I’m a little bit into the project, when i know that I’m not going to abandon it to the depths off where my WIPs go to die (rip like literally over 300 individual and unique works, this is NOT an exaggeration, you should see my document bank its gross) Ill say “ok fuck you sami its time to actually know where you’re going” and I’ll sit down and make the grossest outline you have EVER seen. like im talking, my outlines are littered with memes, me yelling at myself, actual stuff thats going to end up in the final project, and just general random garbage? its so gross. Ive literally only showed one of my outlines to one person ever (hi akira!) bc im super self conscious of them and hate the way that i write them. making an outline usually sucks up an entire day of writing. they’re pages and pages because some parts will be INCREDIBLY specific and other parts will be so vague you dont even know

From there, when im done with my garbage outline, (after going back through what I’ve written and fixing the shit that was just me going off like a psycho) I usually start writing in earnest. I’ll highlight the parts of the outline that I’ve done and I’ll go back and check it often to make sure im following through on my plans and the character arcs and such, making sure that everything ties in and such. This section is me like. every day getting home from work or whatever and sitting down at the computer and not moving until 2am, this is the section where i forget to eat and I dont sleep enough and i forget to drink water or take my vitamins and I do word sprints with myself and have days where I write 10 thousand words in one sitting. (very not healthy and also terrible i do NOT recommend) this is the section where I’ll handwrite anything i can in the back of classes and at rehearsals because im pouring out words.

during this section I go back and edit ENDLESSLY. i cannot write something and just let it be. I go back to the section I wrote the night before, I go back to the section I just wrote, i go back to the very beginning. I generally dont have to do 1st 2nd 3rd draft this way, but it is much more time consuming as Im just writing. i dont know if i reccommend this its a MESS

THeN once i finish writing the whole thing, i sit down and reread/edit the whole thing once through. this makes sure i have good flow, the paragraphs go together well, the prose feels right to me, timelines make sense. during this time i make ENDLESS paper notes with calendars, section notes, additions, drabbles, thoughts about my own shit. i have notebooks full of just garbage. im not kidding. full notebooks. 

Once I finish that read/edit through I’m usually happy. only once something is completely finished will I consider posting. I go back too much, I add shit, I can’t let go of shit, not until it’s done. While I’m posting - I go through the chapter I’m going to post with a fine tooth comb, try to catch any tiny little mistake, add words here and there, but never change anything large if I can help it. Then i format it on Ao3 (this is literal hell, fuck the HTML editor it wants me to die) and then post it. Deciding to post a chapter to actually hitting ‘post’ usually takes me 1-4 hours, depending on the length, the difficulty of formatting, and how many goddamn links i wanna put in the chapter notes cause im the worst~ (insert jean ralphio voice) 

~~~

LISTEN im probably super extra but I’ve been writing since I was in sixth grade (thats twelve years! time is an enigma and i hate it!) and so I have a bit of practice, i have a bit of experience and while I’m not the best me that I can be, I KNOW myself, and this is just what works best for me. 

As for timing - it depends on the length of the project and how motivated I am. It took me about a month to write Royal (~50k), just a little over a month to write All Might’s All Night Shop Stop (~75k), and just about two months to write Temperature of the Heart (~115k). I try to post every few days, because as a person I hate waiting and I don’t want to do that to my readers! 

~~~

As for the ‘how long do i sit on an idea before writing it’ it really depends. Some things I will receive inspiration or a sliver of an idea and start writing it in the next ten minutes, even if I have to stop working on something I’m already working on, because that was Brain Has Decided. Sometimes I will consider an idea for like. months before actually doing it. I’ve had the idea for FBoW (the newest thing im working on oops? have i told anybody about this NO cause that will make it REAL) since before I started Royal, which was like. Last november. But I just couldnt quite do it for some reason, and it wasn’t pressing. My brain is super broken, and a lot of times I get sick over ideas. I can’t sleep or eat until I’ve written, and I will repeat phrases to myself until i can get them out of my head by writing them down. (Sometimes this is something nice or poetic - “The golden hour lights up the whole world, wiggling its fingers into every nook and cranny, lighting up two people lounging on a bench-swing, someone leaned onto porch stairs with a mug of tea, the space between those walking down a dirt road, a couple of dogs laid out on the deck.” and other times its literally “Ranch Fiddlesticks.” I’m not kidding. i have a note in my phone that says ranch fiddlesticks because I was actually going to Die if i didnt write it down.)

I do wish my brain didn’t do this - but I guess it makes some fun art, doesn’t it? 

WOW OKAY THIS WAS SO LONG im so sorry jesus christ. SOrry i will ALWAYS go off about my process and what it’s like to write. Writing is so so important to me, I LOVE it with every tiny atom of my weak, alcohol-infused, overworked heart. Despite how scary it is sometimes I am very glad to be sharing my work with the world, seeing peoples’ reactions and hearing things about my words, hearing how this little picture in my mind has gone into yours. 

okay jfc im done now im so sorry. thank you again and again and again, a thousand times over, for reading my work and enjoying the worlds that i enjoy building. It makes me feel like I’m worth it. It makes me feel like I’m doing something good. 

ily :’)

[emmerrr]

"I think I’m in love with you and that scares the hell out of me" or "I dreamt about you last night" for pynch :)

why not both tbh. also these are supposed to be short drabbles I don’t know what happened :/

(thank you for prompting me!

Adam wakes with a start, jolting upright, heart racing.

He looks to his right to find the other side of the bed empty, and when he reaches out a hand, it’s cold.

Ronan sleeps odd hours and often likes to get chores done early, so it’s not completely out of the ordinary for him not to be there, but Adam can’t deny that he prefers not to wake up alone.

He can’t help the unease as he drags himself out of bed and pulls on a discarded pair of sweats and the nearest hoodie, both of which are Ronan’s. He pads down the stairs but everything is quiet, which means Ronan and Opal are somewhere outside.

Adam stands in the kitchen for a moment and shivers slightly. It’s Saturday morning, and it’s not quite seven; he normally wouldn’t be up for at least another couple of hours. So it’s not particularly fair of him to be annoyed that Ronan wasn’t in bed, and that he’s not in the house, and that he’s not in Adam’s eyeline right this second.

It was the dream. And that’s all it was. A dream.

Adam drags a hand down his face and, still on edge, tracks down an old pair of Ronan’s wellies. It rained a lot the night before, so they’re definitely needed, and Adam makes his way outside, feeling a small amount of satisfaction at the sound of squelching mud beneath his feet as he begins his search for Ronan.

Admittedly, it doesn’t take long.

He spots them over by one of the back fields; Ronan fixing a broken part of the fence with a toolbox at his feet, Opal running up and down the length of the fence, jumping in every puddle she finds. She’s absolutely covered in mud, and Adam spots Chainsaw perched on the roof of one of the old barns, watching from a safe distance.

Opal spots him first and tears off towards him with an almost birdlike screech. Ronan looks up at her noise, but makes no move towards Adam, and Adam can’t even really tell what his expression is doing yet, he’s not close enough.

It only takes a few seconds for Opal to reach him, and she barrels into him like a miniature battering ram before grabbing his hand and leading him onwards towards Ronan.

“Good morning, Opal,” Adam says, and she gives him a feral grin, all teeth.

She lets go of his hand for the last few feet and starts running along the fence again, her energy boundless. Ronan had been crouched down by the fence but he stands up when Adam gets close enough and gives him a quick once over.

“Parrish. You’re up early.”

Adam shrugs. He’s still tired, so maybe he should have tried to get back to sleep, but he couldn’t help it. He feels unsettled, and he wants comfort, but he doesn’t want to ask for it, and he wants to talk about it but he doesn’t know how to bring it up. He’s upset at Ronan, which he knows isn’t fair.

It was just a dream.

“I woke up and you were gone,” he says at last, and he can’t quite keep the slight accusation out of his tone.

Ronan narrows his eyes for a second, trying to gauge Adam’s mood; trying to figure out if something has happened or if Adam is just cranky because it’s the morning.

His expression quickly evens out. “I’m nearly done here, I was going to come back up when I was finished. Didn’t think you’d miss me.”

Adam crosses his arms. “Well I did.”

Ronan tilts his head to the side in question, asking without actually asking. Adam juts his chin out, defiant, not wanting to give an inch first.

After a moment, Ronan lets out a small, frustrated huff. “What’s wrong?”

Something in Adam’s heart melts a little. Communication remains a thorn in their side, but they’re working on it, and it means the world to Adam that Ronan’s taken the first step this morning. It makes it easier to take the next one.

He moves closer, and Ronan lifts a hand halfway towards Adam’s face before dropping it again, because he’s not sure if they’re in a fight. He never takes anything for granted with Adam.

“It’s stupid,” Adam says. “ But I had a—I dreamt about you last night.”

Ronan’s mouth curves in a salacious smile. “Oh really?”

Adam scowls. “Mind out of the gutter, Lynch, it wasn’t that kind of dream.”

Immediately, Ronan’s expression sobers, and this time he commits to reaching out, cupping Adam’s cheek with a gentle hand. Adam leans into it, breathing in Ronan’s familiar scent. Moss and mist and rain, or something; something unnameable and yet indisputably Ronan.

Ronan knows all about bad dreams.

“What happened? You don’t have to tell me. But if I was in it—”

“It’s okay, I’ll…” Adam reaches up to lightly grip Ronan’s wrist, and together they turn and lean against the sturdier part of the fence, side by side. He lets the silence dangle for a minute while he gathers his thoughts, and Ronan doesn’t push him; he simply waits until Adam is ready.

“It was—it felt real, that’s all, but it was…it was next year.” He swallows. “At college. And you never called. You never visited. And in the break when I came back here…”

“…We fought?” Ronan guesses.

“No,” Adam says, and he’s speaking so quietly now he’s surprised Ronan can still hear him. “It was like you didn’t even care enough to fight. You were right there, and I was right there, and you weren’t angry or sad or anything. You just told me that this—you and me—wasn’t worth your time and you didn’t see the point anymore. And then you asked me to leave.”

Adam’s still looking forward, so he doesn’t exactly see Ronan inch closer, but he’s aware of it.

“Adam,” Ronan starts.

“Don’t apologise,” Adam interrupts, and he lifts his head finally to look at Ronan.

Ronan shakes his head. “I wasn’t gonna.”

“Good. I know that it was just a dream, it wasn’t you. It’s just that it was one of those dreams where I couldn’t tell I was dreaming until I woke up.”

“Love those,” Ronan says dryly, and Adam manages a small smile.

Opal rockets back up to them and she tugs at Adam’s sleeve, holding out a pretty pebble she’s found.

“That’s beautiful,” he tells her, and she beams up at him. There’s bark between her teeth.

“Opal,” Ronan says. “Go and find me five snails.” She growls at him, and more sternly, he says, “Go.”

And she does go, because Opal likes games like this; it’s just that her need to be difficult at all times sometimes gets in the way.

Once she’s out of sight, off in the undergrowth, Ronan takes Adam’s hand and pulls him into his arms.

There is nothing more comforting than this; being utterly surrounded by Ronan, cocooned and warm and safe. Adam pushes his face into Ronan’s shoulder and wraps his arms around Ronan, hands clutching desperately in the back of Ronan’s hoodie. 

“Adam, I know that you know that was only a dream, and so yeah, obviously I’m not gonna fucking apologise for what dream-me said to you, even though I wanna go into your dreamscape and punch him in the nuts for it. But I do want to say this, because I think it’s important.”

Adam loosens his hold a little and steps back, but stays in Ronan’s orbit. Ronan kisses him on the tip of his nose before he says his piece.

“I hate my phone, but I’m gonna fucking use it, every day, when you go to college. I will visit whenever you fucking want me to, and Adam, please believe me when I say that you will always, always have a home here. With me. Wherever I am.”

And the thing is that Adam really does believe that. It’s such an unfamiliar feeling that it makes him shiver, for reasons that have nothing to do with the early morning chill.

“Ronan,” he says hoarsely, and it’s almost a plea. Ronan presses a kiss to his temple and then smooths some of the hair back out of Adam’s face where it’s still a bit matted from sleep.

“Adam, what? What’s wrong?”

“Nothing,” Adam says. “It’s just that I think I’m in love with you and that scares the hell out of me.”

This isn’t entirely true; Adam doesn’t think, he knows. And this wasn’t how he was supposed to say it.

“I love you,” he says, firmer this time. Fiercely. He looks Ronan in the eyes when he says it and sees them widen.

Ronan’s expression does something very complicated, and his breath catches in his throat. When he finally finds his voice, it’s to say, “Why does that scare you?”

“Because I know it’s going to hurt when I leave.”

It’s the simplest, most unavoidable reason, and Ronan nods slowly. “Yeah.”

In a few short months, Adam leaves for college. He’s beyond excited, but hot on the tails of that, he’s terrified, because he keeps imagining it, and in his imagination, he misses Ronan already.

If it hurts now, it’ll undoubtedly hurt more later. The leaving was never supposed to hurt.

But he’s also going to come back again, and that never used to be part of the plan. Now it’s an important part, and it doesn’t frighten Adam like he thought it might.

So yeah, it’ll hurt, but in a good way. Because it’s a privilege to love and be loved and Ronan is always going to be worth the effort.

“I’m coming back, though, Ronan. You know that, right? I’m coming back, if you’ll have me.”

“You fucking know I will,” Ronan says, but there’s a relief there now. “And fuck, I love you, Adam. You already knew that. But I do.”

Knowing it already doesn’t mean hearing it means any less. The words settle, warm, somewhere in Adam’s chest. He’s going to keep them there, and replay them anytime he wants.

He smiles and leans back into Ronan, tilting his head up in search of the kiss that he knows will taste all the sweeter in the wake of their little confessions.

When they finally stop kissing, minutes or hours or days later, Adam grins. “I’m sorry I was mad at you because of what fake dream-Ronan said.”

“What you should be sorry for is getting mud all over my clothes,” Ronan says with a raised eyebrow. 

Adam looks down at his borrowed clothes to see mud smeared all over his front from where Opal crashed into him, and it’s mirrored on the hoodie Ronan’s wearing from where they’ve been clutched together.

“Uh…oops,” Adam says.

“‘S’okay,” Ronan says with a shrug. “It’s laundry day anyway.”

Adam smiles. “So it is.”

[grammarkid]

hey, guys! so i just hit 700 followers!! and since i hit the milestone on the night before halloween, i thought i’d celebrate by throwing together a little supercorp halloween drabble. :) i wrote it p quickly, so it’s probably got a ton of errors, but i just wanted to throw something out there for the holiday, idk. um, here u go?

Kara’s staring.

She’s staring and, gosh, she knows she is – very blatantly, at that – but she can’t help it, because Lena’s so – she’s just – just so –

Rao, that dress! And the make-up! The – the cleavage!

She’s absolutely to die for, utterly divine.

Kara, on the other hand? Kara’s the definition of a big fat Kryptonian mess right now. She can’t think, she can’t speak, she can hardly breathe – and, suddenly, her decision to attend her own costume party as a very large sandwich – a ‘super hero,’ heh – seems extremely… unfortunate.

Because everyone else picked a cool, badass costume, which is horrible enough, but now Lena’s here, and she’s all smoldering eyes and pouty lips and – and Kara’s stomach promptly drops into her feet when Alex laughs and says, “Alright, it’s a good costume, I’ll give you that, but now you’ve got to sell me on it. Give us your best impression!”

And then, Rao, her knees legitimately start to shake as Lena, accepting the challenge, turns to her. She lays her hand on Kara’s arm gently and presses in close, affects a low, breathy voice, and says, “Gomez, last night you were… unhinged.”

At once, all the blood in Kara’s body seems caught in a violent battle, torn between rushing to her face and rushing… elsewhere, but Lena’s not done.

“You were like some desperate, howling demon.”

Her eyes seem to bear right into Kara’s soul, her fingers clutching at Kara’s bicep, slowly and surely stripping her of all sanity. Right in front of their friends, mortifyingly enough!

“You frightened me.”

There is the faintest hint of a pout in her brow and in the set of her lips, and it remains there just long enough for Kara to feel it, like a Kryptonite dagger driven into the soft tissue of her gut – before it smooths into a devilish smile.

“Do it again,” she begs breathlessly.

Oh, have mercy…

When she’s finished, Kara bursts out laughing in a nervous, obnoxious sort of way, and the inhuman sound of it almost seems to score her throat raw. Everyone else claps, drowns it out for the most part, but the tight pitch of her voice couldn’t have gone unnoticed. (Alex’s knowing smirk seems to suggest that it didn’t, and Kara studiously avoids her gaze.)

Lena smiles and bows her head graciously at the applause. She steps back, but her hand trails down the length of Kara’s forearm, evoking goosebumps and a tremble that makes Kara’s fingers twitch with the longing to chase after her.

Kara feels like her heart is beating ten times its normal rate and she’s sure her face is as red as her cape and boots, but the others are, thankfully, too enamored by Lena’s performance to comment.

“It’s been a while since I’ve seen it, but from what I remember, you nailed it,” James says.

“If they ever announce a remake,” Maggie warns, “I’m tweeting your name at every director in Hollywood.”

“It suits you, with the dark hair and pale skin, obviously, but –” Winn gestures to the full length of her dress, the elegant black lace draped from her shoulders to her ankles, fitted so snugly every stitch could be undone with a heavy sigh. “What made you choose… you know?”

Yes, thank you! Kara would really like to know that! Because, as of now, it seems like the only reason Lena could possibly have for making such a choice is to sate her desire to absolutely unravel the tightly wound spool of Kara’s mind. Simply being next to her is a special kind of agony, because she’s standing there like a goddess, stealing all the attention in the room like some porcelain vision out of a gothic daydream with the Junoesque figure of a Renaissance sculpture and –

Lena shrugs lightly. “It was one of my favorite movies as a child, as strange as that sounds,” she laughs. “At times, growing up as a Luthor didn’t seem very different from growing up as an Addams.”

Alex laughs wryly and passes her a beer. “Let’s drink to that.”

Lena accepts the beer with a small, grateful smile. “Anyway, I’m a little too old to be Wednesday now, but I thought Morticia would work just as well.”

“Oh, yeah,” Alex says – a bit too knowingly for Kara’s liking. “Like Winn said, it suits you. You’ve really got the whole ‘ethereal beauty’ thing down.”

Lena blushes just a bit. (And it frustrates Kara to no end, because why is it so unbearably lovely?) “Thank you, Alex.”

“Don’t you think, Kara?”

Kara nearly chokes on the Sierra Mist she’s been compulsively guzzling from the plastic cup clutched in her fist like a traveler dying of dehydration in the Sahara. 

“What?” 

“What do you think of Lena’s costume?”

On the receiving end of Alex’s expectant stare, she giggles through a rather graphic mental recollection of every Kryptonian curse she ever learned, and glances nervously in Lena’s direction. Lena gazes back, her bottom lip caught between her teeth.

“I – she’s – I mean, you’re – uh –” Kara gulps. “Hot. Look hot – I mean, you look hot! Are you thirsty? You’re probably thirsty! I’m gonna go get you a –”

“But, Kara, I have –”

“Kara, she already has a –”

“I’ll – I’ll be right back! One drink, coming right up!”

She bumps into the dining table as she struggles toward the kitchen and sends it skittering three feet back, toppling over all the cups and bottles resting on top of it in the process.

“Oops. That was… an accident. Sorry. I’ll, um – I’m – you like cherry soda, right? I think I have… some… in the…”

Kara yanks the refrigerator door off the hinges in her desperation to bury her head in it.

Whoops.

If she survives the night without revealing her true identity to Lena, it’ll be a miracle. Provided, of course, she survives the night at all… which, honestly, seems unlikely, because she knows that as soon as she turns around, she’s going to be face to face with…

Oh, Rao, she actually shivers at the memory.

One thing is for sure. She’s never having a costume party again.

[webcricket]

The Lies We Tell Ourselves

Characters: CastielXReader ft. Sam Winchester

Word Count: 1503

A/N: Drabble request by @charlotteofcamelot – “Could I maybe request a super short drabble of Cas interacting – and I don’t mean sexually – with an overweight character that has body image issues, please?” Reader has serious self-doubts about their body. Enter Castiel stage left with the fluff. I have a theory that’s why he wears the trench coat all the time – extra pockets to carry more fluff. (P.S. You specified “super short” length, but my muse is not so great at following instructions. I had to give up editing it because more words kept getting added. Oops!)

This is pointless! I have nothing to wear! Your frustration grew more and more unbearable with each article of clothing hastily pulled from the closet and tugged over your round shoulders or yanked up too generous thighs and ultimately yielding the same unsatisfactory reflection in the mirror. Ten minutes. We’re leaving in ten minutes. You’d have settled for looking just okay at this point. You weren’t out to win any beauty pageants tonight. Far from it – only going out for cheap drinks and live music in a hole-in-the-wall bar with shitty lighting. But nothing fit right. Nothing made you feel good enough to go out with the Winchester brothers. Not with Dean and his gorgeous green eyes and charismatic personality and boy-next-door bod who managed to make flannel and layers simultaneously approachable and sexy. And certainly not with Sam and his devastating combination of a swoon-worthy sculpted muscular build and bottomless intellect for deep conversation – not to mention better hair than you on your best days. Ten minutes, ten hours, it doesn’t matter. I look terrible! Worked into a tizzy, you chucked your favorite oversized sweater at the mirror, knocking it from the dresser in a cacophony of shattered glass, and flopped defeated onto your bed. I’ll just stay in tonight. It’s not worth it.

“Y/N,” a sharp knock echoed on your door, Sam’s warm voice sounding from the other side, “you alright? I heard a noise.”

“Dropped something is all!” you half-shouted, scrambling to your feet. Making your way to the door, careful to avoid the glinting shards of reflective glass littering the floor, you quickly threw on a robe and cracked the door ever so slightly to assure Sam you were fine.

“You’re not coming out with us?” he inquired, astutely noting your casual state of undress.

“I’m actually not feeling well,” you lied, the well-worn excuse spilling from your pouting lips without a second thought, “you guys have a good time though.” Lying was easier than admitting the truth – you hated the way your clothes looked because no matter how flattering they might be to your figure, none of them could hide the fact that in your mind you were overweight. You knew every lump and bump and rolling imperfection hidden beneath the thin fabric, and nights like this the knowledge was so overwhelming it paralyzed your ability to participate in life.

“You gonna be okay?” he asked quietly, brow knitting in worry. “You need anything? I could stay back, order some pizza or something. That new series we wanted to watch is up on Netflix.”

Despite the genuine concern in his timbre, you were so far into the pit of self-disillusionment that you instantly rejected his offer of company, imagining he sounded wholly unconvinced of your feigned malady. He feels sorry for me, dammit. Sympathy offer to hang out, wonderful. “Nah, don’t let me hold you back. Got another bad headache. Already took Aspirin, just gonna sleep it off,” you winced and rubbed your temple for effect. You hated yourself even more for being dishonest with a friend.

“Feel better then,” Sam frowned, politely nodding goodnight, lanky legs swiftly carrying him down the hall to disappear around the corner.

And you did feel better – the receding thud of footsteps unburdening you of social commitment, freeing you to wallow in your insecurity without an audience for the night…or so you thought.

Comfy pajamas donned, freshly popped bowl of popcorn in hand, bunker to yourself, you made your way from the kitchen to your bedroom, ready to snuggle under the covers and get lost in a favorite movie – to be swept up in another universe, far away from the body image issues that plagued you. Rounding the hall corner, you stopped up short at the threshold of your door, unexpectedly catching sight of a familiar shock of tousled dark hair atop a tan trench coat.

Castiel stood in the middle of your room, blue eyes concentrating with indiscernible intent upon the various piles of discarded clothing scattered across the floor and dresser you had yet to remand to the closet. He held aloft a broken sliver of the mirror you must have overlooked when sweeping up, turning the shining piece over and over gingerly in his long fingers. The near inaudible shuffle of your socked feet drew his attention, striking blue eyes resolving their focus upon you as he spoke, “Y/N, Sam said you were unwell. I came to see if I could be of assistance.” Gesturing wide at the tornadic mess of clothing, head inclining askance, he questioned, “What happened in here? Are you okay?”

Your eyes stung with the pressing threat of tears. Telling a little white lie to Sam to persuade him to leave you alone was one thing – lying to the angel wasn’t an option. He would see through your deception, however innocent, immediately. And that would mean more questions. “I’m fine, it’s nothing. My usual clumsiness. You know me,” you tried to impart a chipper quality to your voice, avoiding directly meeting his inquiring gaze, brushing past him toward the safety of your bed.

He did know you, and he knew you were anything but clumsy. By virtue of the multitude of experiences weathered during his friendship with you and the Winchesters, he also knew humans could hurt in ways not obvious on the surface, and that they didn’t always know how to ask for help. Unconvinced by your explanation, insistent on providing whatever aid he was able, he gently caught your arm as you flew past, “Y/N, you know I’m always here if you need to talk.”

“I know,” you sniffled, trying to shake free of his light grasp. You couldn’t talk to him, not about this. The way you saw yourself, all your flaws bursting at the proverbial seams, wasn’t something he could fix with the tingling caress of his grace like some bloody wound or fractured bone. No, this literal weight, this encumbrance upon your very being, was something you condemned yourself to suffer alone. You wouldn’t understand. The thought screamed to be liberated as you fought to suppress it. How could you? Look at you, the very definition of angelic.

He released you, features fretfully falling as he observed you sink into the bed.

You felt his lingering gaze, endeavoring to ignore his continued presence as you fluffed the pillows behind your back and idly arranged the comforter over your legs.

He remained standing there in the middle of the chaos, awkwardly silent, expressly because you hadn’t outright refused his offer to talk. He would stand there patiently until the end of time if that’s how long it took you to either share what troubled you or ask him to leave.

“Cas?” you finally submitted to the quiet persistence of his demeanor, peering up to find his blue eyes fixed, gentle and undemanding, upon your countenance.

He listened, waiting for you to summon the fortitude to speak he knew you possessed.

“Do you ever hate yourself?” you unceremoniously spit out the crux of your problem, however ineloquent in its presentation. You searched his face for any judgement, discovering instead a sad shared empathy gloomily clouding the edges of his shining eyes.

Breaking off his steady gaze, he walked to the edge of your bed, motioning to the open space at your side, “May I?”

You nodded ascent, scooting over a bit further and smoothing the comforter so he could sit.

“Hate is a strong word,” he reclined against the headboard beside you, still not looking at you, admitting, “but I do frequently doubt my own worth.”

“You do?” you couldn’t mask your shock, “But why? You’re practically perfect – self-less, kind, intelligent, brave…handsome.” You blushed at acknowledging the last part aloud.

“That’s nice of you to say, but in truth I am broken, burdened by failure, perpetually disappointing those I love while trying to do the right thing, and trapped between Heaven and Earth and not truly belonging anywhere,” he disparaged, pausing before going on to glance over at you, bearing intensely earnest, “I could ask you the same thing, Y/N. What do you possibly have to hate about yourself? You’re the most beautiful soul I’ve had the privilege to know in the entire span of my existence.”

“I-I am?” you stammered, wetness blearing your vision and brimming over to streak your cheeks.

He wrapped an arm firmly around your shoulders, drawing you to his chest in a tender hug, confirming, “You are. And more important than you seem to know.”

You let yourself relax into his embrace – daring to believe, if only for a little while, that he might be right. Maybe you were too hard on yourself.

And Castiel likewise surrendered to the moment – for if this human, flawless in his summation, and whom he cared for so profoundly experienced the same crippling pain of self-doubt he did, then perhaps there existed some small hope he wasn’t as damaged and alone in this world as he led himself to believe.

[inkuisitivskins]

LivMiles werewolf AU. 👀

1) Give me a pairing.

2) Give me an AU setting.

3) I will write you a three-sentence fic. OOPS LOL

Under a read more because.. this was kind of a long drabble I’m sorry :’) I’ve just been wanting to write an AU like this for quite a while

Warning for slight blood and body horror

He had noticed her growing more distant during the last few weeks. Distant, and moody. 

Many of her soldiers would joke about the monthly cause of her heightened aggression, though Miles knew otherwise. He also couldn’t help but notice how it happened on every full moon, and when he would politely question her about it, she would always avoid the question– which was unlike her. He had noted how she was always able to tell him anything, save for the reasons behind her hostility every night leading up to, and the eventual leave she took from the fort, the night a full moon rose into the sky. 

Miles was never a man to jump to conclusions, but he would admit to himself that he was growing increasingly worried. Every episode of hers would grow more vicious until this last time, where her absence from the fort had last longer than a single night. Frankly, her leaving the fort without informing him, her adjutant, her personal assistant, and her best friend, worried him– but an unexplained extended leave terrified him to the core. What if something happened?

She had assured him one of the earlier times that her absence was merely a nightly walk, and she did not leave the confines of the area surrounded by the fort, on the Amestrian side of the border, of course. She never “took a walk” in the no-man’s-land between Briggs and the Drachman border, yet Miles still grew increasingly nervous. Even in Amestris where there were no human enemies, the snowy mountain range around Briggs was still inhospitable; being inhabited by dangerous wildlife and even more dangerous, unpredictable weather. 

Sure, the werewolf myth had crossed his thoughts, and wolf chimeras were absolutely a real thing, but he paid no mind to it. If his general had been a chimera, he would like to believe that she would have told him, since the existence of chimeras was tied directly to the military and experiments it had done. Come to think of it, if she was, she most likely wouldn’t have kept it any sort of secret, since the fort was of military purpose, after all.

Still, he found himself quietly making his way down the elevator of Briggs, almost precisely at midnight, when the fort was still, except for the few nightly workers and soldiers who were given the graveyard shift. He didn’t know why he held an unlit lantern in his grasp– he had been tossing the idea around for quite a while, but he supposed he was finally, actually, going to go out looking for her. An absence of two days was far too long for comfort. 

He made sure the fur on his coat was snugly against the back of his neck to keep out any cold as he lit the lantern, exiting the iron walls of Fort Briggs. The night was dark, but the full moon cast an eerie light that reflected off the snow and caused it to look blue rather than white. He lifted the lantern and started walking– in what direction, he was not even sure. He just had to find her. 

Not much time had passed when he happened upon an unusually large footprint in the snow. Normally, he paid no attention to the animal tracks that would litter the snow once one drew far enough away from the fort to find wildlife, but this was even larger than a bear’s. Twice as large, actually. 

Miles didn’t notice himself staring in dumbfounded awe down at the huge print, until he heard a deer cry out nearby. His red eyes snapped up in the direction of the noise, and he immediately hurried over. One again, he didn’t know why. Maybe it was because he loved animals, and if one was hurt, he may try to help. 

Maybe it was because something in the back of his mind knew what was going on. 

He topped a snowy hill, freezing in his footsteps when he saw it. A deer carcass sat in the snow, freshly killed, by what large, looming mass of fur hunkered over it. Its long, white fur stood out against the seemingly blue snow as it tore into its kill, too distracted to notice him.

Why, was unbeknownst to him, but he spoke out, “Hey!”

Immediately couldn’t even begin to describe how quickly the canine head swerved to stare at him. Its maw was bloodied, and its eyes seemed void of pupils in the way they reflected the light of Miles’s lantern. His heart stopped instantaneously, terrified. 

It lunged at him, knocking him onto his back with its long limbs– thankfully, the impact was soft due to the snow. The figure, however, pinned him, breathing heavily and snarling as its eyes remained locked on his, the iron stench of blood strong on on it as it clung to its fur. Heat seemed to be radiating angrily and dangerously off its large body, and Miles could only stare up at it in sheer horror. 

It was this moment, though, when it knocked the lantern from his hands, and he could fully see the color of its eyes. It’s pupils were visible slits now, but the irises were a bright, icy blue, that seemed to be glowing in the darkness of the night. There was only one living thing he knew that had eyes like that. 

“Olivier?” He breathed, chest heaving. Teeth still bared, the wolf sat up ever so slightly, its small ears pricking forward as he spoke. He watched in silence as its pupils widened and shrunk as it focused its sights on him, obviously in deep thought. It still seemed confused, so it bent down, frighteningly close to his face, and touched its nose gently to his cheek, sniffing deeply– the deep noise of its breathing loud in the major’s ear. 

In one motion, it straightened and leapt off of him, its heavy feet strangely quick in the snow as it fled. 

“W-wait, please!” The Ishvalan scrambled to his feet, losing his footing on the snow several times as he grabbed his lantern and hurried to pursue the creature. He caught a glimpse of it running along the treeline, noticing the moonlight on it– the light catching its white fur, seemingly reflecting off a golden hue. 

Thankfully, the snow was deep here, so it was not difficult for him to follow its tracks. Eventually, he came upon a clearing that was surrounded by snow-laden trees, where the footsteps seemed to stop due to the light snow that was now beginning to fall. 

“General?” He raised his voice, looking around. “Please, I want to help you! I’ve been so worried! I-I…” He continued, quieting down. In truth, he was always so protective of her because she was the person he loved most in this whole world. Not only had they slowly gained each other’s trust through their work, but they eventually became best friends, and around that time, Miles finally had the guts to admit to himself that he’d fallen in love with her.

And, in all honesty, if this was Olivier, this changed nothing. It was still her same soul, albeit clouded with a primal need to hunt, and he would give his life to keep her safe.

Heavy steps crunching in the snow behind him caused him to swing around, the force of which sent his lantern flying, since he didn’t have a good enough grip on it with his military-issue gloves. The beast was stalking him, its large paws seemingly moving in slow motion as it crouched. Even with knees bent, its height was that of a normal-sized bear. 

“Olivier,” Miles said again, his voice breaking slightly. He loved her, but he didn’t want it to end like this for him. He had grown up being told folktales by his mother, and one of the ones that stuck with him most to this day was the one about werewolves, where, when under transformation, they had no conscious control over any of their actions. He knew it wouldn’t be her fault, but he also knew that he had made a promise to himself long ago that he wouldn’t die before he told her that he loved her. 

“Please…”

It gained on him, still slowly, until it sank down into the snow, ready to lunge again. 

“Olivier, I love you…”

Instantly, it lifted its head, pupils dilating to circles. It yelped suddenly, the shrill noise not matching the large and powerful body, as it stumbled forward. It lost footing in the snow, tripping onto its stomach, yet already too weak to pick itself up again. Contorting in sharp pain, the beast seemingly began to shrink as the fur retreated into the skin. In a strangely human way, it hid its face in its large paws, its pointed muzzle still peering out between the paw pads, as the whole body lost fur and began to grow more human features once again. Bones were heard cracking as the spine realigned and the pelvis opened to also take on the shape of a person’s rather than that of a quadruped mammal; arm bones shortening from the length they were as not a pure wolf’s, but a monster’s. Blonde hair that matched the gold of the fur soon took over on the head as the canine snout disappeared. Soon, all that remained was the motionless figure of a woman, quickly being consumed by snow. 

Though he was in utter horror from what just transpired before his eyes, Miles shakily stood, urging his body to move despite the shock it was experiencing. Completely ignoring his lantern, he immediately undid the buttons on his coat and hurried to his superior, shedding it quickly. She was limp, so it was difficult, but he managed to prop her up enough to wrap his coat around her, swiftly lifting her bridal style, making sure all of her bare skin was covered by the heavy fabric. 

“Olivier?” He asked, panting due to the shock that remained, his breath leaving him as puffs of smoke in the cold air. He moved a hand to rest two fingers on the side of her neck, sensing a weak pulse– yet a pulse nonetheless. 

At his touch, her eyes fluttered, opening weakly. Though it was obvious how weak she was, his face immediately brightened at her sign of life. 

“I’m sorry,” were the first words that left her, her voice scratchy and soft.

“No, don’t,” Miles replied quickly, bending down to retrieve the lantern. She wasn’t very heavy, and he was rather strong, so he had no trouble carrying her. “Just please be okay…”

“I’ll be fine,” she rasped what sounded like a chuckle as the corners of her lips lifted into a weak smile. “Happens all the time. It’s always painful like this…”

“I’m sorry,” her adjutant responded, walking as quickly as he feet could carry him without fully breaking into a run. He smiled down at her gently, understandingly, “I just wish you told me.”

She shrugged gently, voice still faint, “Lycanthropy… runs in the family. Skips some members sometimes, though…”

“No shit?” Miles breathed, flashing her a small smile, just glad that she was making coherent conversation. He wanted to keep it up so that she didn’t slip back out of consciousness.

“Passed down the Armstrong line for generations,” she sighed shakily, to which he laughed softly. What he wasn’t expecting was the ginger, feather-light touch of her fingertips against his dark cheek, which drew his attention down to her and caused him to have somewhat of a surprised look on his face. 

She gave him the fondest smile she could possibly muster in the state she was currently in, “I love you too.”

—

I drew like all of the inspiration from this from that one post going around a bit ago about how in some legends, werewolves could be transformed back by confessing to them or throwing clothes on them or something like that? Even if that isn’t right and my memory’s failing me, that’s how it works in this AU HAHA

Anyway yeah, I already apologized but this drabble was so long x’D I’ve just been wanting to do a supernatural AU like this with them for a while so I was SO happy when you asked this haha. Either way, thank you so much, Katie!! I’ll be posting this in my Livmiles drabbles collection on ao3 if that’s cool!

ALSO I based the werewolf off the Wolf Beasts seen in Bloodborne. Basically wolves with long creepy limbs

Thank you so much!

[beyondthetemples]

{{ Mun: Portrayal Meme

1. Do you like how you portray your muse? I mean, it’s all subjective, but from my perspective, I do like how I portray her, yes. c: Gentle but fierce in the right moment (which hasn’t been explored much on this blog, but is absolutely a part of who she is). I manage to condense her worlds of thought into words, and I portray a wide variety of reactions and situations and emotions, and even now and then, the RP goes on long enough to even EXPLORE it more!

That’s the only downfall of my portrayal though. It’s hard for me to move a scene past the introductory stages, just because it’s hard for me to write sometimes, so a lot of threads only get into Phase 1 and 2 of story, and never gets to the climax much, let alone a resolution. :P And because it’s hard for me to move a scene there, it’s hard to get Dove to a climactic and resolving place as well.

2. Do you think you do your muse justice? For the most part, yeah. I feel like, due to the halting stop-and-go nature of Tumblr rps, it's really hard to move her past the point she's at. (That's why I ultimately decided to stop using a default timeline where Dove had just found the Titans, and decided to bump her up to the point after DDD and The Final Journey where she'd had her first unofficial "mission" and had already joined the team in their heroics. Plus, there's a lot more potential for Action Plots now that Dove (I don't think I'm leveraging that potential for her growth very much, though... hmmm.)

3. Do you portray your muse differently to the general fandom? Obviously, Dove is my baby, so nobody else portrays her, exactly. There are a lot of fan characters with the barest concept being similar to Dove, though. Of course, I found out after I created a character to be Raven's sister, that was actually a very common trope in TT fanfiction circa 2006. Even the name "Dove" for fancharacters wasn't totally unique, I'd learn later. But my Dove is the only one I've found that's anything like her.

The vast majority of Raven-sibling OCs tend to do dark magic, wear dark clothes, have a temper, and oftentimes have some kind of royalty or Chosen One thing going on. On the other hand, Dove's power is telepathy, she’s garbed in a white dress much more suited to her Azarathean heritage, and she’s so painfully shy, you wouldn’t know she’s a superhero until you see her in the moment of Actual Action. The canon of the comics re: Azarath also informed Dove’s character quite a bit, so there’s a lot of spirituality in her-- even if she completely sucks at magic and meditation (the former, basically forever, but at least she gets better at meditation...) And that’s another thing; Dove’s stories (and RPs?) start her off much earlier in the developement of her powers. She doesn’t know how to control them yet, because her mother never figured out how, and Dove’s place among the team is very much that of a student or little siblings tagging along for the ride, moreso than the “Chosen One” type of story.

4. What aspects of your muse do you most want to explore? Her growth through her relationships!

5. Are you looking to write any particular relationships with your muse? I mean, I'm willing to explore a romantic relationship with her and Caleb so obviously I'm excited for that! But also the platonic relationships, friends, acquaintances, maybe a few enemies. People she might be able to help, being a hero in more pacifistic ways.

6. Is your muse canon-divergent? How? Why? Dove was painstakingly developed specifically with canon in mind! (Mostly the comics, because it was adamantly stated that Trigon went after Raven so hard because she was THE ONLY child of his to survive! That's why Dove was kept a secret, kept hidden-- from the Watsonian perspective, it was because Dove's mother didn't want them to treat her child the way they treated Raven. But the Doylist explanation, the meta reason, boils down to the fact that Trigon, canonically, isn't supposed to have any other children, at all. and that canonical fact is why the "Sons of Trigon" storyline makes me SO ANGRY, but that's a rant for another time.

7. Is there a controversy or fandom disagreement revolving around your muse that has changed how you portray them? (I mean, she's an OC, kinda hard to have controversy when I only ever interact with like 5 people tops. 8F)

8. Do you use narrative text differently between muses, or does your writing stay the same style for everybody? Oh yes! My writing style changes dramatically based on mood and the character that's "narrating" the scene. ~ Dove's are usually very considerate, careful contemplation, so she tends to get a lot of words, and she's very quiet, so there's very little dialogue. ~ Kary's tends to be more "scoffy" and judgemental, physically and verbally expressive, and if she's contemplating, it's emotionally reactive. ~ Srentha is both bubbly and analytical, so his narrations tend to be eager and optimistic with a curious thought usually followed by a ton of questions or conclusions. ~ I haven't quite figured out what Leyla's style is yet, probably a mixed bag of contemplation and expression? ~ For grounded and perceptive Raven, I write brief and stark sentences, quick and to the point. (With the occasional thoughtful paragraph, because she's snarky, but she also has a lot going on internally.)

9. What thread types (e.g. angst, fluff) do you think portrays your character at their most genuine? Angst, horror, and hurt/comfort especially! For me, writing about Dove isn't about agonizing over her suffering, it's about how she heals from it and comes back stronger. It's about the people she's with who are willing to help her. It's about the COMFORT, not necessarily the hurt for me. (Though I'm always down for some delicious drama. As long as we can show them Being Better Afterwards, too.)

10. Are there any crossovers you’d be especially interested in writing? Dove on the Infinity Train? Whoooo boy, that could get interesting super fast! (So many opportunities for worldbuilding and character development!)

11. Do you write drabbles/headcanons for your character? Do you discuss them OOC, away from Tumblr? I talk about Dove all the time, okay. I don't think I have a single friend who doesn't know about Dove. Even my family knows about Dove.

12. Do you think your muse would act differently if they had interacted with different characters in the past? OH yeah. One of Dove's biggest struggles is social anxiety born from never interacting with anyone except her mother (and secretly Srentha every now and again). If Dove's situation was any different, she'd have much more confidence in social situations, and she'd be more at ease and more verbal. She'd show her calm, "zen" side to a lot more people.

13. Do you have any plans for the future of your muse? Would you like to see them grow a certain way? Shipping with Caleb will already fulfill one of my curiosities. But I'd really like to write about her Getting Over Her Fears in battle. She doubts herself and hesitates, which is a terrible thing to do in the heat of battle. She doubts her abilities and either tries way too hard and blows things up, or doubts her control and tries to do something way too lightly which becomes totally ineffective. I'd LOVE for her to interact with muses that have the kinds of minds that can become psychological horror with Dove, considering she's a telepath! I got a taste of that once with an old friend's OC, and it was so FASINATING! Intriguing! Dove didn't know what to do with herself! I think in general, just putting Dove in a New Situation and making her figure out how to cope (or: how to GET OUT ALIVE!) sounds PHENOMENAL.

14. Do you wish you had a better grasp on a certain aspect of your muse? I've been writing with Dove endlessly since 2005. And a few years before then, there are action-figure-based stories I was playing through with her. So what I'm saying is, there's not much I don't already know about her, and well enough to babble about for a collegiate-length essay if you let me! The only thing that's not explored Especially Much is Dove when she's in a romantic mindset. And that's largely because I'm aro, so I don't... really know how to write about that. Oops.

15. If you could start your blog again with a clean slate, what would you do differently with your muse? Would you change any of their base principles? Dove's base principles are firmly rooted in the character I wanted to explore, so everything about her core concept stays! The only thing I'd change is that maybe I'd write more further down in her timeline, instead of making every single rp a story about Dove struggling even to interact. Sometimes it worked to the story's advantage. But most of the time, it just made interactions feel like I was playing the same thing over and over. I wish I'd known about pre-established relationships being a thing earlier on, then I feel like some much more interesting stories could have been written! (And that, my friends, is why I write with her post-TFJ, as an active-duty Teen Titan, and not just a meek houseguest. With rare exceptions, but Hero Dove is the default!)