#tumblr does not want to let me edit the fucked up italics i give up

[qan-t]

warning gundam 00 spoiler

hi! i really enjoy your posts. can i ask about innovators (pure or innovade) eyes when they change color to yellow, is there explanation about what kind of abilities they can do when that eyes activated? i know about when setsuna used it to activate quantum burst or when innovades interact with veda with it, but is there more lore about the eyes? or if you have opinions about it i wanna read it too. thanks in advance!

glad you like the blog, anon <3 it's funny you ask this, because i was just thinking about innovator eyes for writing reasons. this is very rambly and i apologize in advance. the first interesting thing i can think of harkens back to some older lore that should still be somewhere over on the gundam 00 lj community under the translations tag. the gist of it that i remember is that it served as an explanation for why tieria wears glasses despite not needing vision correction. apparently it's to protect his eyes, on account of something to the effect of his eyes being necessary for the connection with veda to be made. maybe they're the specific component that allows this interface to happen? it seems a little like a handwave to explain what was probably just an aesthetic choice on yun kouga's part, but it's an interesting tidbit nonetheless. notably, the super soldier characters' eyes don't glow despite being capable of using qbw. innovades and innovators have stronger qbw (a stronger capacity for them, maybe you'd put it?), so there being something special about their eyes that helps facilitate their use at higher levels actually makes a lot of sense. this has some pretty horrifying implications for tieria if you imagine a scenario where neil wasn't able to protect him from patrick. what if neil hadn't been the one to lose an eye that day...? what characters can actually do with qbw varies a lot between the super soldiers, the innovades, and setsuna. i think we can assume that qbw are always present to some degree -- alle and soma had serious problems just being in the vicinity of one another, and the els are attracted to anyone with the capacity for them -- but they can further still be 'activated'. we most often see glowing eyes when characters are intentionally accessing them -- consider when tieria activates them to get the els to follow after him instead of setsuna -- but intention isn't a prerequisite. regene and louise' eyes glow when their qbw are being accessed. ultimately i think it signifies qbw being used at a higher level on a whole. i get the impression too that ribbons had stronger qbw than the rest of his group if he was able to get into regene's head despite not being of the same genetic type. regene can presumably only speak telepathically with tieria, along with revive -> anew, etc. (worth noting, and i just checked this, but regene's eyes don't glow when he's speaking telepathically to tieria for the first time they meet. maybe this doesn't require high levels of qbw usage?) setsuna is an interesting case as the primary innovator we see. innovades as a whole seem to have a lot more control over the usage of their qbw than setsuna does. the one exception here would be anew, but only before she awakened to her true nature. setsuna has the strongest qbw potentional, but probably because he became an innovator so recently, his particular usage of them seems to vacillate between intentional and unintentional. quantum burst was intentional, but trans-am burst comes across to me like something that happened unconsciously out of setsuna's desire to protect everyone. consider also the scene where the lights on ptolemy go out and saji sees that setsuna's eyes are glowing. i didn't get the impression that setsuna even realized it. innovades were built to use them, but setsuna just kind of ended up with these abilities. that both innovades and innovators possess glowing eyes could be seen as another spot-on prediction from aeolia, too. imagine he anticipated how a true innovator might appear, and designed the innovade eye functionality in that image. from a meta perspective, glowing eyes are a great visual shorthand for QBW Stuff Is Happening, and thematically it conveys something too (although i might be reaching here). eyes are considered the windows to the soul, and i think you could argue that was taken into consideration here, where glowing eyes to ultimately represent the transference of information. communication.

[matchamorphosis]

˚₊· ͟͟͞͞➳❥  𝐜𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐯𝐚𝐥 𝐜𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐯𝐨𝐫𝐞

𝒎𝒆𝒍𝒕𝒊𝒏𝒈 𝒍𝒊𝒌𝒆 𝒂𝒏 𝒊𝒄𝒆𝒄𝒓𝒆𝒂𝒎 𝒘𝒉𝒆𝒏 𝒚𝒐𝒖 𝒔𝒎𝒊𝒍𝒆

𝐬𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲 || ari punishes you for being a brat during your date out at the summer carnival

𝐠𝐞𝐧𝐫𝐞 || pure filth, smut with some fluff

𝐩𝐚𝐢𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠 || modern AU agent!ari levinson × [black//woc]!reader + crossover!ransom drysdale

𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐝 𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭 || 4K ⟶ 𝐝𝐢𝐯𝐢𝐝𝐞𝐫 𝐜𝐫𝐞𝐝𝐢𝐭 || @firefly-graphics

𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬 || 18+ nsfw daddy!kink, age gape: reader is twenty one and ari is thirty five (don’t like, don’t read), heavy language, dirty talk, punishment: overstimulation, eating out, blowjob + spanking mention, movie crossover! + you might get a cavity just from reading this

𝐬𝐨𝐧𝐠 𝐩𝐫𝐨𝐦𝐩𝐭𝐬 || melting by kali uchis ♡ angel by kali uchis ♡ honey baby (SPOILED!) by kali uchis

𝐰. 𝐧𝐨𝐭𝐞 || this was initially for @jtargaryen18’s writing challenge #30DaysofChris but i took a long break in the middle of writing it, sorry for the long wait lovely! ♡ this took less time to edit and write than i thought and believed but i hope you guys enjoy it just as much! ♡ reminder : italic means flashback, bold italics means thoughts/exaggerated dialogue, and non-italic/bold means present!

 + p.s || do not repost, republish or plagiarize my work on any other fanfic platform such as: wattpad, ao3, tumblr, etc or steal my work all together. do so and i will rip your spine from your scumy asshole and shove it down your talentless throat. ♡♡♡  

my storybook ღ join my taglist

BABY THIS IS A WONDERLAND

when your tongue licks the bittersweet honey glaze of my pussy lips, where my sinfully divine bubblegum dreams collapse with your good boy deeds but you just keep licking my core desperate. ‘cause baby the milk that leaks from the honey hive in between my thighs is like a strawberry cone to you- and your going to lick me up before I melt under your hot gaze.

"Ari," your meek whimper spills but he keeps licking.

as if he's trying to break the dam that'll give him the strawberry milk that will quench his undying thirst. you’re stuck in this pleasurable killing punishment, if only you knew to stop when you were told to. listen to the voice in your head to stop acting like rotten spoiled brat and you’d have the pleasure to grind your honey slicked cunt against his bearded face.

if only you listened...

"behave," Ari growled into your ear.

the single command is enough for you to roll your eyes and stick your tongue out up at him and so you do. of course Ari is used to seeing this brat but he was sure that with a glare or two you’d clean your act up but you’re still continuing your rotten attitude.

no, you don't want to fucking behave.

subtly walking away from him to the cotton candy vendor, the sound of the man pouring the sugar into the spiraling machine is music to your ears. a glare marks your sharp roseate lined eyes and a pout pulls at your glossed lips, all focused away from Ari but he still sees your rage.

it really wasn’t fair how he expected himself to go on this carnival date with you but not do the one thing that made you want to go. all that adding on that he expects you to behave and not be upset, it wasn’t for and you weren’t planning on calming down.

not even a little tiny bit, cause you want to go into the tunnel of love with him. all the small promises and little compromises made throughout the day as you and him walked and played the colorful tent games did he promise you that you and him would ride.

Ari knew how much this meant to you, you always wanted a special someone to sit besides the romantic boat ride with ever since you were a small girl.

it was his fault that he fell in love with a hopeless romantic, someone yearning to allow themselves be enveloped within the arms of their lover. feel their warmth as the red violet lights start to dim, kiss your lovers lips when you two meet the darkness. giggle when he confesses his sweet darling thoughts of you, you were a romantic for gods sake.

you wanted it so bad, yet every time you seem to mention it Ari deflects the topic with something else. another question or comment or confront your claim in the most abrupt yet sweet way possible.

“not now sweetheart, later maybe-”

“babydoll, do we really have to go in there?”

“it’s to much of a risk for daddy, honey bear!”

he would sweeten those claims up with kisses that would butter your mouth like the popcorn he hand fed you. it was tiring Ari out with your demands to ride The Tunnel of Love but now as he stand there witnessing his precious apple dumpling turn into a rather rotten and bratty apple he may fully turn down the conversation.

on top of that your pink and white gingham sundress displays a bit too much cleavage and leg for Ari’s liking. well he doesn’t like the dress, he loves it but he wouldn’t want you going out displaying it for everyone to see besides him. the nymphet styled cloth you walk so confidently may or may not have half the boys and men eyeing you everywhere you go.

this scene, the boys and grown men undressing you with their list filled hues and eye fucking you with every step your platforms take does make Ari want to snap at them. wonder if their mothers taught them better than to gawk, glare at the silly pubescent boys until they run away shitless. maybe intervene with the lustful stares of the men with a double fist threat.

it doesn’t ease the fire behind his eyes and the clenched fist he has when he’s noticing your smirk- the pounce in your stride that you seem to enjoy the attention.

the very way you bend down near the mirrors of a souvenir cart to re-apply the amber peach lipgloss to your lips is almost intentionally teasing for both Ari and anyone else watching. the way you glance at him through it, lashes batting and your glimmer hint hues screaming fuck me

he now knows this is all part of your game of acting up, you think you can get what you want from disrespecting his order and authority. it was so cute to him how you thought you could get away with your spoiled behavior.

sooner then later Ari is going to bend you over and teach you a lesson on teasing him in public.

the taste of strawberry cotton candy and buttery popcorn is still fresh and lingering in your mouth but you want to taste your juices on his candy red tongue.

"Ari," you carp, his tongue just keeps lapping up at your labia. unbothered and unfazed as hair spills over his forehead, he doesn’t care for he smiles when your plush thighs cage his face.

the continuous strokes of his talented tongue make your pussy flutter and spine shiver. wishing he’d push a fingers or two, god those thick fingers could undo any orgasm from you in matter of seconds. the thought makes a little drool seep from the corners to your mouth and you hug the large blue raspberry bunny Ari won for you closer to your chest. smelling the fruity scent as you whimpered when he bit at your cunt and kissed it better.

you’ve kept the fluffy berry scented stuffie close when Ari striked your ass cheeks earlier wit the same hands that keep your thighs gaped now. allowed you to have that dear comfort as he took on punishing you with his rough spanks.

the burning hand prints are probably visible now just as the wet tears around your eyes. the same streams that stained your peachy cheeks have dried but it wasn’t just your teasing that brought you up in your well deserved punishment.

no, you were in much deeper trouble than for that…

after your little tease show Ari figured to let you have your way, for now. it was always best for him to let you have your way since you were generally upset about not riding on the Tunnel of Love.

now, the golden rays of the sun setting radiated your glowing figure, hand with Ari’s the other holds your frosty pink cotton candy as you take the last bites of it. glancing up at Ari, you see the almost finished chocolate sprinkle swirled ice cream cone in his hand being treated with long slow licks.

attention going from the melting cone to his tongue you can’t help but want it.

want his hot tongue on you, in you.

you want it so so bad that you’re caught off guard when he smirks, not looking at you at all but feeling your stare. he feels your needy wants, knows the devious perverted thoughts going on in your pretty head and its all a dead giveaway when you hold his hand tighter before turning your head away from him.

your sudden shyness makes him let out a laugh. finishing the small cone within a few licks and bites. damn you are a contradiction of innocence and dirtiness that only helps his blood pound in devotion and cock harden in desire.

“what did we say about manners princess? it’s rude to stare at people while they’re eating,” Ari’s deep hushed words rattle your thoughts.

“I know daddy, I-” your words almost stumble when you feel the cool chocolate breaths wave upon your ear and his muscled arm wraps around your waist pulling you closer to him.

“is my princess getting needy? politely tell daddy what you want and maybe he’ll give it to you,” Ari whispers with a soft yet quick peck behind your ear, it’s almost enough for you to whine for more.

Ari knows you just can’t have that, it doesn’t even fill in a teaspoon of the battered lust that needs to be soothed. you really weren’t good at telling him what you wanted, sure physical and replaceable things weren’t an issue, clothes, purses, shoes, books. lets make it clear, if you see it, like it and want it- Ari bought it without hesitation.

however in situations like these, it wasn’t as if it was easy or hard to tell him what you want or what you want him to do to you. you just want him to just touch you, to feel his delicious large and warm hands- his gifted mouth on you already without being asked so many teasing questions.

“I want your tongue, daddy,” your words almost stumble out.

eyes to his now, they flutter innocently at him, biting your bottom lip you look down to notice the small tent at his pants and you smirk. given that rather rude action Ari’s hand that’s on your side goes down to grope the curve of your ass, giving it an equally gentle yet painful squeeze.

“you want daddy’s tongue princess? first tell daddy where you want it-” his sentence was interrupted by the loud vibration of his phone.

buzzing in his pocket you scoff at him when he takes it out to look at the pixel name displayed on the small screen. rolling your eyes when he doesn’t put it away you cross your arms, and let out a huff glaring up at him.

"daddy! mhmm!- daddy no more!" his eyes snap to yours, the sight of you makes him lick his lips.

shiny hair sprawled in all directions, face clouded with lust, the neckline to your pretty dress folded down to reveal your plump tits covered in his love bites. he’s trying his hardest not to give in to the throbbing temptation and smash his mouth against yours, take handfuls of your tits and fuck you till you can only say his name.

but he has much more control than that, he isn’t a needy baby like you. drooling at a few licks to your messy cunt and tits, god Ari knew he was lucky to have landed such a woman like you and you were his to bring as many orgasms as possible.

even if you didn’t want them, you were his little baby and his baby had rules to follow. breaking those rules resulted in punishments and as much as it hurt him to see you cry and whimper it was getting his cock hard to.

“now princess you wanted daddy’s tongue, and now you have it. that’s what you wanted so that’s what you’re going to get.” he muses as you licks your sensitive over-stimulated folds.

“but daddy you gave me four cummies already!-” you fumble into somewhat of a sob but the cry stops once Ari pinches the meat of your inner thighs making you whine at the sudden pain. “ouchy!” you snap, hating these painful thigh pinches but adoring the slow pussy licks.

“i’m teaching you a lesson princess, you’ve been such a fucking brat today so i’m going to treat you like a fucking brat.”

“but daddy!-”

“but what, princess? Daddy told you to stop but you never listen, you’re such a bad listener.” the tinge of disappointment is heartbreaking. tears swimming in your eyes knowing you have let your daddy down and you only wish at that moment -no matter how overstimulated your pussy- you’d go back in time an hour ago to prevent yourself from acting up.

“i’m sorry daddy-” the little broken sob that slips between your trembling lips makes Ari question himself if he’s punishing you too harshly but he thinks otherwise.

so he just tuts you as if he is scolding a child and your eyes swell up with more tears and you feel your bottom lip trembling in hurt.

“Daddy doesn’t want to hear an apology, daddy wants you to stay still so he’ll bring two more cummies out of you,”

hot tears fall as your throbbing pussy is fluttering with pain and pleasure, honey euphoria taking over you moan as your thighs shake and you release on his rubbing fingers. chest slightly heaving, you sniff as you feel your tears drying on your cheeks and watch Ari bring your creamy essence to his lips.

“princess look at the mess you made on daddy's hand. let daddy clean it up for you,”

after that rude phone call you were said to be meeting up with a friend of Ari's, well wouldn't want to say ‘friends’ more on the lines of acquaintances.

"I thought today was just us, he's your friend so why are dragging me into this." you mutter, yet when you feel his soft gaze on your eyes ease on your anger.

"be nice for daddy, okay princess?" he murmurs into your ear, snuggling into your neck. your chest lifts as you try to take in a deep breath and all the offensive rude snappy remarks on the tip of your tongue soften.

you hate the effect Ari has on you, your superior diva persona of sharp wit and pettiness strips away at his sweet and considering remarks. you’re his little spontaneous firecracker but when he cups your chin you turn into a kaleidoscope of butterflies. his feisty tiger cub that always calms down with his calming words and even soothing touch.

“fine,” you say and he smiles down at your stuff pout, it’s the best you’re going to give him and for that he pulls you closer to his side in gratitude.

walking side by side through the crowds, Ari adjusts the cap of the baseball hat down his forehead and you tuck in a piece of his hair behind his ear. making a rose heated blush appear on his cheeks which only brings out a wide smile and giggle from you.

“so, where is he? where are we meeting your ‘friend’?” your comment is sharp yet still soft enough to not avert the vex towards Ari.

“he said to meet us at the circus tent, before the clown stunts,”

“you thinking i’m going to meet him is a clown stunt-” you couldn’t help but let it slip out, you were still mad and you can’t help not to express it.

“princess what did we agree to-” Ari heavily sighs, a simple sign your running his patience but you roll your eyes.

“I know what we agreed to but I know nothing about your so called ‘friend’,”

how the hell did Ari expect you to be nice and peachy with a complete stranger when he warns you of them on a constant basis?

“we aren’t friends, we just have business to deal with,”

“yeah and what a professional scene to deal business then in a tent with lions, tigers and bears-” and suddenly a sharp slap hits your bottom and your to stunned to even register it.

oh my, oh my you’re in for a surprise and you sense it when the powder blue egg color of Aris mystic eyes shades darker. that again is a warning, for you to drop the attitude and suck up to this little silly social gathering but the pulling voices of your angry thoughts echoing fuck no are getting the best of you.

you always had your way, always and forever.

you two were surrounded by people and you even thought yourself no matter how pissed he was he wasn’t going to spank you. not pull you over his lap for children and parents to see but looking around you notice the sound of rides, people chattering, and laughing and playful screaming is to loud. everyone minding there own business to even notice his hand gliding up to wrap his fingers around your neck.

“don’t make me loose my patience. you are going to greet him politely, sit with him and-”

“god Ari do you want me to fuck him to?” you grumble and with that Ari grabs your jaw, directing your stare to his.

the grip on your wrist slightly tightened, his soft lips are to the shell of your ear and from afar it may seem like Ari is whispering something kind and dear from the way he’s smiling but you feel the snide in his harshly hushed words.

“is it that hard for you to be nice for my sake for ten decent minutes? I won’t fucking hesitate to pull you over my knee and spank you for the clowns and acrobats to see. I promise princess, if you even step a toe out of line you’re going to pray you haven’t. do you understand me?”

your glare is your only response until you mutter a small I understand daddy through your teeth barely loud for him to hear.

“speak up princess. I said, do you understand me?” Ari says, his words softer now and the grip on your jaw and wrist soften.

pressing a gentle kiss to your cheek he averts her face to meet him. “I promise you’re not going to regret meeting him. i’ve pulled a few strings to get him here but it’s all for you to enjoy,” he says and you quirk a brow at him, a smile finally pulling at your lips easing Ari.

“and who is that?” you say but Ari shakes his head with a small smirk, “I know you’ve been telling me how close you are to publishing your book and I thought why not I bring the finish line to you,” he says, you are still confused.

Ari was right, you are so close to making a publishing deal but you haven’t received any word in months. you yourself are getting anxious but the way you left the establishment shaking hands with the famous Harlan Thrombey himself. how he emphasized being invested in your work tore all those worries and fears away.

although, you were suppose to receive a call months ago, yet deadlines and interruptions of some sort keep on pushing your meeting with Harlan week after week. after that a contract was supposed to be sealed and editor negotiations completed and done for. not three months later you’ve received nothing and here you are wondering if Mr. Thrombey is having second thoughts on your work.

what is Ari planning for you with his friend?

⋄⟢⋅⟡⋅⟣⋄⟡⋄⟢⋅⟡⋅⟣⋄⟡⋄⟢⋅⟡⋅⟣⋄⟡⋄⟢⋅⟡⋅⟣⋄

sweat glistening your hairline, your soft whimpers fill the fairy light tent, only causing Ari to grip your inner thighs tighter. all this while his hot cherry tongue slides in and out your slick hole, you throw your head back. this pleasure feels like a fantasy and you’ve been reminiscing it to this point.

trying to move your glossy locks of hair away from your eyes, you hate the way he snapped at you earlier how you weren't allowed to touch him. not touch his soft toffee hair, his thickly bearded cheeks and muscled forearms- not even the comfort of his hand.

cause you’re in trouble and you aren’t allowed to touch him or yourself now or later until he says so. you’re the bad girl and the bad girl doesn’t get what she wants, no matter how much she pouts and cries.

"daddy!" and his eyes snap to yours, the pretty innocent blue now replaced by yearning.

knowing better to call his private title in public but the empty red, blue, and yellow striped carnival tent is the only event to do something like this. the soft music of the carousel in the background fuzzy, one of his hands creep up your bodice.

pulling down the tight neckline of your dress, he grips the soft mound tit in his hand and you erotically whimper as he roughly pinches the hard nipple. your pale pink and white gingham dress crowded your upper hips yet still lengthy enough that it covers Ari’s head. large warm palms caress your frosty cotton thigh highs as long slow licks smooth the folds of your fluttering pussy, aching to be satisfied by the pulse of his dick.

slow circular strokes of his thumb rub along the small slippery nub and your thighs twitch in blissful thrill over each of his shoulders. your feet in pink strap heels bounce and flinch every time Ari shoves his tongue in your hole. pouring out moans from you as you imagine his lips polished and shiny with your sweet pussy milk.

you want to see him, you want to see him eat you up you’re desperate to move the cloth over his head. see him licking and sucking the sinful treat he craves everyday. hating the sight of just his head bobbing up and down and side to side from the cover of your own dress you want to meet his eyes as he loudly moans while eating you out. slipping the small and loud growls and carnal noises release as he as his special treat.

daring to do so, you reach the hem of the dress and pull the fabric off his head, and there you see your handsome candyman. tawny brown hair tasseled and cheekbones red from the heat his eyes twinkle in mystic hunger, his lips soaked in your sensual essense. both his hands softly gripping your thighs, stroking your hips as his tongue still deep in your hole you let out a small whimper as he slips it out.

pupils wide and both the corners of his mouth leak with saliva and your cum and you feel your legs shaking a slight when he licks the corners. more so feel your pussy wetten when he glides his tongue over his top teeth glaring at you. awaiting the degrading scowl he has for you yet your surprised when you doesn’t pinch your thighs or claw at your hips even when he just smiles.

“peek-a-boo angel,” he purrs, eyes back to their cloud heaven blue and you feel your heart melting in your chest although it quickens when you brings his tongue right back to your pussy.

“so you must be {y/n l/n}, i’ve heard so much about you.” the young man sitting across from you chimes. You and Ari sit side by side on one of the many picnic tables around the humongous red and white circus tent.

“good things I hope, you must be Mr. Drysdale. how are you?” flashing your pearly white smile you rest your hand in the mans extended hand.

“what a doll, i’m doing great and how are you doing on this fine day?”

peachy fucking keen

he sounds like he’s trying his hardest to at least sound interactive and social. blue eyes move from your face to your cleavage and you want to snap at him to fucking pick.

“well today was excellent as a matter fact, a special day. all until you came along, you see Mr. Drysdale-”

“please, call me Ransom. Ari Levinson, long time no see! before we catch up why don’t you buy your lady a soda pop. i’d like to know the writers first before signing them off to my publish house,” the young man remarks, his eyes not to yours at all but to the way your dress tightly hugs your body.

Ari sees this, anger bubbling inside him he bits his tongue. meeting Ransom from his latest cases he was shocked to find out that he hadn’t been convicted for the third degree murder his buddy was investigating that had him wrapped up into it. even more shocked to find out that he had inherited his grandfathers publishing company.

this ‘meeting’ is to ensure you get your book published and live in your glory. so instead of barking at Ransom telling him to stop eye fucking you he instead offers you a kiss to the cheek and a soft stern whisper in your ear.

“behave while i’m gone,” and with that he walks away to the food vendors, knowing full well that it’s going to be you that’s going to drive Ransom crazy and not the other way around.

“I don’t understand, when I spoke to Ari-”

“well sweetheart today’s your lucky day, it’s not like everyday you meet the CEO of the company you dream your work be published in.” his voice smooth he stares down at you with hungry blue eyes.

cursing yourself for wearing such an unprofessional outfit but how were you going to find out that you were going to make a book deal on a date.

“I don’t understand, I was suppose to meet with Mr. Thrombey-”

“oh have you not received any word? Harlan, my grandfather, passed away three months ago,” he says but every word in his voice sounds fabricated, remorseless.

your surprised once you feel a hand on your bare thigh, gripping it firmly and you shift away from Ransom. his tongue slowly licks his bottom lip when his blue irises catch yours, you had to admit they were pretty like Ari’s but they held something else- something darker.

keeping a safe distance away from you and Ransom you don’t move your eyes away from him, not cowering under his gaze but holding a stronger glance to him. you knew guys like this, you grew up surrounded by them and you even dated guys like him but not in a single situation did you let them take advantage of you.

so, besides sitting at the table trying to avoid a conversation you get this “meeting” over with. Verbally deflecting the flirtatious remarks of Mr. Drysdale. dodging the charming maneuvers of him asking you for more face to face meetings and you can sense the anger radiating off him. it only makes you wonder how long it takes just for Ari to get you a damn soda pop.

“i’m not sure if you’re qualified enough for a place at my establishment. you don’t seem to meet my criteria options and your work isn’t up to our standards,” he says looking down at his phone, typing a message to someone as if you weren’t worth his time.

“I don’t seem to meet your criteria options? you mean offering to take me out when you damn well know i’m already in a relationship? what is this? I thought we were talking about my book,” that sharp remark leaves him dropping his eyes back to his phone after he receives a message.

“my question is why are you with a man like Levinson? a sweet little lady like you with a busy man like him can’t treat you well, can’t pamper you well, can’t fuck you well-”

“we’re done here,” you feel your face getting hot with rage, you were wasting your precious vacation days on this. “and what about your book Ms. {y/l/n}?”

you’re up and away front the table yet you turn your head to meet his eyes again. no way in hell were you going to publish your book for a company runned by Mr. Drysdale.

“it seems as though your establishment isn’t up to my standards Mr. Drysdale,”

"d-daddy, am I sweet?" fluttering your lashes to him, a deep groan shakes against your throbbing cunt and you feel your organism washing over.

the continuous licking from the tip of his tongue tracing your hole and his thick fingers rubbing your puffy folds are removed just for his mouth to suck the sweet essence pooling your rose bud.

his sweet and innocent angel, so naughty and dirty at these times. such a sweet fucking treat, a sickeningly saccharine poison to easily overdose. sporting soft cotton candy thighs he doesn’t mind at all being in between them, licking the sweet sugary sweetness.

y/n l/n is a wish candy girl that’ll rot Ari’s teeth to his graveyard kind of girl and he doesn’t mind it one bit.

"like candy dolly. you're sweet like fucking sugar." you moan at the comment and he won't stop licking. sugar cotton floss, sticky candy apples, rainbow swirled lollies, and buttery caramel popcorn- you’re the whole damn candy bar and his head is so deep in Candyland he can’t think straight.

all he wants is to see is your pie crumble before him as you give him the custard filling. it’s what he’s been craving and the various messages that Ransom sent him whilst in the food line asking him if he could “take you off his hands” only increases the grind of his mouth and tongue on your bountiful mound.

"daddy's on a sugar rush," you giggle completely unaware of the situation Ari has dealt with but otherwise he smiles into your pussy.

god you always had the cutest shit to say when he’s eating your pussy and he fucking loves it, eats it up.

"bad princess, you're going to rot daddy's teeth," trying his hardest to not think about Ransom at a time like this, in his position with his mouth on you.

"mmh!- that’s so sad daddy. I always liked your smile," you moan and sigh, testing his patience once more you begin to lace your fingers through his long hair.

Ari shakes his head disapproving though he seems to occupied licking your saturation from your mound to bother telling you to keep your hands to yourself. keeping your fingers in his hair, his eyes meet yours in anger and with the glimmer of menace he knows so well in your eyes he should prepare for your reckoning.

with that a pretty petty smirk curls your lips as you yank his chocolate locks downward, shoving your dripping cunt as it grinds against his mouth. Ari doesn’t back away but invites it, pulling away slightly to glide his skilled fingers over the soaked folds avoiding your desperate hole.

a whimper slips out when Ari doesn’t give you the pleasure that’s lingering and dripping from your crux but only avoides you; but then again how long can Ari avoid your need for another release. burly arms wrap around your body’s waist as you pulls you onto his lap, letting you saunter your arms around his neck you stuff your face in his chest letting out a whinish sob.

“i’m sorry for misbehaving today Ari,” a bang of regret hits Ari’s chest.

this was all his fault for demanding you meet Ransom to see some opportunities for you when he himself knew it wasn’t the best idea.

“don’t be sorry angel, I went too far and you were right. I shouldn’t have forced you to meet him. shouldn’t have thought of this in the first place,” that little whisper followed with a kiss in between your brows.

he still can’t get the sleazy voice of Ransom offering to take you “off his hands” so you’d get a position at his company. feeling his sugar high blood boiling just remembering Ransom talking about you as if you were nothing but a pawn item for bargaining, right in front of you as if you had no say whatsoever.

“you know how I hate cutting corners, I wanna be successful because I worked hard. not because my boyfriend wanted me to take it easy and let a rich boy take care of it for me,” you whisper, head snuggling in Ari’s neck which he hums.

god, you may be stubborn but you were so loyal to your aspirations and independence. strong when he met you and stronger now, he always has admired that.

“remind me next time whenever I want to introduce you to someone who runs this relationship,” and you giggle at those words.

quickly straddling his lap arms wrapped around his neck you pull him closer till your nose rubs against his and your lips briefly touch his.

“I run this shit,” you cheekily whisper subtly licking his bottom lip and Ari takes your ass in his hands, lifting you up your legs wrap around his waist. “yes, you fucking do.” Ari growls and pulls your lips to his.

he’s all yours, your caring daddy, your carnival carnivore.

truly yours.

♡♡♡ thank you for reading! ♡♡♡ pretty please like, reblog and/or comment what you think and if you enjoy this follow me to read more of my future works! ♡♡♡

[millennial-star-gazer]

Tantric Flames: Chapter 8: Tantric Art of Seduction

Tantric Flames

Nalu lovefest 2019 Prompts:  Magic, Worship, Reckless , Forbidden and Cravings (All Implied)

Genres: Romance, Humor, New Adult Fanfiction

Pairing:Nalu (Natsu x Lucy)

Rating: M for language, steamy and mature adult sexual content (all consensual) in these and future chapters. Reader Direction is advised.(You've been warned!)

Summary:  One look, one smouldering hooded gaze, one word, one fiery kiss, one magnetizing touch was all he needed for her to completely unravel at his mercy alone, succumbing to the sinful temptation of her inhibitions, his love, his feral passion, his raw, insatiable desires, his "Tantric Flames". Originally an Submission for Nalulovefest 2017 (on previous accounts) in which Natsu gives his mate a tantric massage-after much persuasion- she won't soon forget when it turns into so much more. Also previously featured in Nalu lovefest 2018 (on current accounts) , as well as Nalu Week 2017, Nalu Fluff Week and Nalu lovefest 2017 (as stated) with first three chapters on my previous celestialgeekmage accounts . Previous chapter was also an entry for nalu week 2019. ( Nalu-centric) (Slight Au).

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Chapter 8: Tantric Art Of Seduction

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A/N: Hey everyone! Here's the long-awaited 8th Chapter of Tantric Flames and second entry for  @nalulovefestofficial​ 2019. Anyways, this said chapter is packed with plenty of sizzling Nalu gooodness which I hope is to your liking. Special thanks to my amazing and talented friend/mutual  @kaycha1989   -aka @kaychawrites - for acting as a beta and helping with the edits! Be sure to check Kayla and her excellent writing out  on tumblr, FF and A03! (Google Kaycha for FF and A03 if off tumblr). Now, without further ado, here's chapter 8-enjoy!

(Note: Scroll Down past the cut/read more button for  corresponding kinks and the actual chapter).

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Disclaimer: I don't own Fairytail which belongs to the one and only Hiro-sensei instead!

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Read more of Tantric Flames  and on other platforms here:

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1. Tantric Flames

A. Tumblr

Previous ( Chapter: 7)  (Click Here:)  (or here: https://millennial-star-gazer.tumblr.com/post/185033161848/tantric-flames-chapter-7-what-belongs-to-a-fire)

Chapter 8:   Next( Chapter) (Click Here:) (or here: https://millennial-star-gazer.tumblr.com/post/624402662880854016/tantric-flames-chapter-9)

B. Fanfiction(Click Here:)  (or here: https://www.fanfiction.net/s/13114990/1/Tantric-Flames-reupload-from-cosmicdragonwizardaccounts)

C. A03 (Click Here:) (or here: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17063882/chapters/40123739)

2. Master Post of My Writing (Click Here:) (or here: https://millennial-star-gazer.tumblr.com/post/179665258923/master-fic-rec-post

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Legend:

Italic: Song Lyrics/Quotes (or flashback dialogue)

Bold: First Person Thoughts

Bolded Italics: Empathized Word(s)

Bolded Italics (Within and Outside Bracket) including for author's side notes also known as (A/N:) within brackets (though none for side-notes in this chapter ).

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"Seduce my mind,

ensnare my heart,

capture my soul,

and my body is yours completely."

(Varga Crystal: The Lisbon Collection)

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"The scent of your arousal— My God Luce…"

Natsu lips were at Lucy's ear now; oh so close that she could feel his breath on the shell. "It's growing stronger again."

"So intoxicating. Ya' gettin' turned on just by fantasizing about me, huh?" The deep rumble in his baritone along the rapitorial flash in onyx-green shot an electric thrill through Lucy's veins ."The thought of me and what I can do getting you all hot?"

"Mhmm, " Was all Lucy could utter in response, too distracted to manage much else.

"You are, huh? That's hot. Though I can't help but wonder ..." Hands rested just above her panty line, so close, so maddeningly close where lazy digits traced patterns that the mage just barely bit back a moan of carnal aggravation from the pulsating ache.

"How much stimulation can you handle before it becomes too much? Just think of how easily I could drive ya' wild with my touch alone .. my hands, my fingers, my tongue all working my magic until you're finally seeing stars."

Another electric rush of fire shot straight down to Lucy's already heated core from his sinful words ; so intense that Lucy found herself unable to stifle the keening noise escaping her throat .

"Dammit Natsu don't tease me!" said wizard protested, breathy voice lifting into a whine. "You know what that does!"

"But why not Luce?" Natsu fired back, nibbling at the shell of her ear. That gravely baritone of his was somewhere between a velvet purr and growl that always sent an assault of feel-good shivers down her spine. "No real shocker here that we both know how much you love it despite your claims. It'd be so easy— good payback too. Me driving ya' to brink just to deny that letting it finally happen when I'm damn good and ready. Such a devious little minx you are— teasin' and riling up a dragon like that and an alpha one too. .

"Yes, yes, I agree— very devious of me. And you're definitely a dominant alpha dragon and demon too-no question about that."

"How kind of you to notice." He let out a deep, throaty, chuckle that sent a burning heat across Lucy's skin. "Good for you to know when to surrender to a mighty dragon-demon too. God you're so hot, sexy and adorable— all flustered like this. The most precious of my hoard. completely at my mercy. Makes me want ya' even more than I already do. Seems only fair I return the favor, right?"

"Uh... no. I don't really agree ..."

"Course' you don't, Luce. Kinda' difficult from your position. Least' I have you all to my myself for a good chunk of the day. Should leave plenty of time for me to have my fun with ya'. Should I...nah." Natsu opted right then and there to deposit a scorching wet kiss with a well-timed nip and suck, on the patch of skin below Lucy's ear, overloading her already heightened senses.

"There," he remarked with a touch of that irresistible shit-eating grin she could detect in his voice. "That should give you a lot more to think about."

"You're a smug ass, you know that?"

"Mhm... yeah— but you absolutely love it when I am. That's not all, no. I know what else gets ya' all hot and bothered. All those hickeys you can't ever seem to get enough of..."

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A/N: That's Chapter 8 folks! Definitely shorter than some of the others though the next one will be up ASAP. Please let me know what you think by leaving a review and/or comment! Reblogs and shares would be much appreciated as well! Oh and Don't forget to check out my other nalulovefest entry (Fire And Gold), the rest of my writing and submissions from other lovefest participants! That's all for now folks. Until next time-take care!

[spider-bih]

Eleven Minutes.. [Peter Parker]

Pairing: Peter Parker x Female!Reader

Warnings: My angst has bust in full force thanks- flashbacks in italics in case thats confusing

A/N: I’m alive??? Works killer n i miss this crai- also, doing page breaks a diff way bc tumblr mobile refuses to show page breaks smh. No, I have not seen Endgame or any leaked footage so this contains no spoilers, (I did see it, since this was edited and made before and after Endgame, however, this will atill contain no spoilers and will continue in how I thought it would end <3) just vague mentions of IW and what an aftermath might be like idek

❝I’ᴍ ᴇʟᴇᴠᴇɴ ᴍɪɴᴜᴛᴇs ᴀᴡᴀʏ, ᴀɴᴅ I ʜᴀᴠᴇ ᴍɪssᴇᴅ ʏᴏᴜ ᴀʟʟ ᴅᴀʏ..❞

You assumed you shouldn’t be doing this, what with your state of emotions but.. if you didn’t, you weren’t sure if these emotions would ever settle. You had to have closure, even if the outcome wasn’t what you expected or wanted. Hell, you were barely sure what you even wanted out of this. What was the point? What was there to even gain anymore? Why were you lying to yourself when you knew you still wanted this?

There was so much you’d put up with on your end- and sure, maybe you had no right to complain. You knew what you were getting into those few years ago. You knew who he was and how he was, but still. You hoped you’d get him to see reason. You knew you would-

A teenager shouldn’t have to go through all that. Not even an adult should, but of course, perhaps an adult could better process it. An adult wouldn’t struggle so hard, and that’s only because their brains aren’t still working to fully develop themselves and the body they inhabit. Struggling with something so hard so young.. it does things to you and those around you. It does things to your relationships.

Funnily enough, the same could be said of a teen simply having a romantic relationship at all. Yet, the latter doesn’t have you bearing the weight of the world upon your still growing shoulders.

You struggled to hold that weight with him. Nights filled with the metallic scent and taste of blood were the norm. Those nights always felt panicky or hurt- those nights always caused arguments and overpowering feelings of helplessness. You weren’t built to be a damsel in distress, but you knew your limits. He surpassed them, but even he had his own, and as much as you wished they were endless, they weren’t. That night when he didn’t come home- that day when all the world saw was ash.. that was almost the final straw. How crazy is it that it wasn’t?

That months of mourning and horrific questions and theories, wasn’t entirely the cause of this? Months of staring out your window and just hoping he was lost and not.. gone. So much time spent feeling like you could have prevented it somehow- and feeling like you didn’t savor enough of the good moments. The hand holding, the sweet kisses and sweet murmurs of affection under stars- none of it felt like enough. Not enough to sate you or make you feel like yourself..

❝I’ᴍ sᴏ ғᴜ��ᴋɪɴ sᴏʀʀʏ, I’ᴍ sᴏ ғᴜᴄᴋɪɴ sᴏʀʀʏ..❞

Seeing his face again was almost like having whiplash- only ten times worse.

You’d only dreamt of seeing him again, of getting to touch him and feel his hands holding you close. Only in your dreams did you get to feel like.. he had never left. You wanted to punch him, but you also wanted to hug him. All you could settle for was breaking down. Your knees gave out from under you, and he caught your crumpling form, allowing you to thrash at him because he was sure he deserved it. You both knew he didn’t, but feelings never really align with logic. Feelings do as they pleased, especially when they decided to consume you.

You cried until you couldn’t- until your throat was scratchy and your body felt weak.

“I’m sorry..”, he tells you, and you just shake your head.

“I am too.”

He doesn’t know, and maybe he never will, but the sorry wasn’t for hitting him. It wasn’t for him having to see you like this. It was because he was one of many, that had to watch themselves go- only his was worse. You were sure his senses screamed at him, that his powers tried to alert him and or stop it all, but they failed. He had to feel himself wither away, and you could only imagine what that might feel like for a Junior in High School. For a growing young man.

“I broke my promise though. I want you to know I never meant to and you were all I could-”

“Please.”, you cut him off as quick as you could, “Please, I just.. you’re here now and I.. I don’t want to think of any of that..”

“Okay. I understand.”, he says, and he does. No one wants to be told they were the last thing to be thought of. True, it means well but.. no one wants to lose someone. They don’t want to think of their lats thoughts or last words. They just want them with them, alive and well. He did his best to give you that.

“Thank you.”

❝Yᴇᴀʜ, I’ᴠᴇ sᴇᴇɴ ʏᴏᴜ ɪɴ ᴍʏ ʜᴇᴀᴅ ᴇᴠᴇʀʏ ғᴜᴄᴋɪɴ’ ᴅᴀʏ sɪɴᴄᴇ I ʟᴇғᴛ. Yᴏᴜ ᴏɴ ᴛʜᴇ ғʟᴏᴏʀ ᴡɪᴛʜ ʏᴏᴜʀ ʜᴀɴᴅs ʀᴏᴜɴᴅ ʏᴏᴜʀ ʜᴇᴀᴅ..❞

Days were hard and nights were long. He wasn’t sure what he was thinking that night. He just knew he had to fix this, his gut was telling him he needed to fix this. You walked through hell with him, held his hand while the whole world was engulfed in flames and he had the utter audacity to let you go? To let you slip through his fingers when you were doing your best to stay? To help?

He was in the wrong and he was sure of it. He was wrong for expecting none of his life to affect you. For allowing himself to think that because you’re not experiencing anything he has firsthand, that you had no room to say anything. You’d watched him get beat down- get damn near killed on a few occasions. Fuck- you even lost him once. You went entire hours and days and weeks and months just.. without him. Not from a break up or vacation or something normal. For you, he was dead, and something like that is horrifically traumatic at best, even if he was here now. No amount of promises can fix that. There will always be that bit of fear stuck in you, and you had every right to keep it there.

You have every right to tell him what you told him- to ask what you’ve asked.

He had no right to say what he said, and he’ll regret it his whole life long.

How could he say he didn’t need you? Lie right to your heartbroken face and get mad that you asked him to just once stop? To live for himself- to come home unscathed?

The broken look in your eyes absolutely broke him.. the sad soft tone to your voice- and then the anger. The bottled up rage and hurt, the venom in your words had absolutely paralyzed him, and then, in the silence, in the aftermath, he saw what he had done. He felt it when he woke up alone, warm sun on his back, but no warm body next to him. Soon the very scent of you was gone, your perfume no longer lingered, your clothes weren’t mixed in with his laundry basket- nothing. There was no trace of you.

It was a type of lonely he’d hoped to never experience. May stopped asking for you and only looked at him with sadness when you were mentioned. He never told her a thing- he assumed she figured it out, or maybe you told her.. he wasn’t sure.

He just needed you back, at any cost.

❝Aɴᴅ I’ᴍ ᴅᴏᴡɴ ᴀɴᴅ ᴅᴇᴘʀᴇssᴇᴅ, ᴀʟʟ I ᴡᴀɴᴛ ɪs ʏᴏᴜʀ ʜᴇᴀᴅ ᴏɴ ᴍʏ ᴄʜᴇsᴛ..❞

“Oh, so you don’t need me, huh?”, you say, your voice is soft but tight, and he knows what’s going to happen next. He knows you well enough- he’s only taken in every last bit of you he could since he was sixteen. Only ever loved you since he learned what that was- what it really was. He liked to think you and him were the anomaly- a tiny percentage of teens that did know what love was..

“No. I-”

“You don’t? So you didn’t need me patching you up all those times so May wouldn’t lose her shit? So she wouldn’t flip the fuck out at her only nephew- at her only boy, risking his life constantly? Didn’t need me when you were as good as dead to the fucking world and May was so lost? Not last night when you were screaming in pain and couldn’t go to Tony because even he would tell you to cut the shit and let someone else handle it?!”

“He wouldn’t-”

“He would! You’re not doing this for the same reasons anymore! It’s not for your Uncle or May or even me! It’s only for you! Just for you because you’re still scarred from what happened and refuse to be beaten by anyone! You don’t want to feel helpless but fuck- think about how everyone else feels! We-”

“You’re all alive aren’t you?! Well and okay and safe, aren’t you?! I am doing it-”

“NO!”, you scream, and he goes quiet. The anger in him seems to just fizzle out. You’ve never screamed at him that way- the fire in your voice- the look in your eyes. It was torture.

“No.”, you hiss, “No we’re not okay. May is far from okay and I’m right with her. You’re throwing yourself at danger- you’re getting careless. The biggest threat to us all is gone Peter. He’s not coming back. He’s not in any of the villains you’ve fought. He won’t be in any future ones. You can relax- but you won’t. This fear is eating at you. You’re scared and you won’t even admit it anymore.”

“I’m not scared. I’m fine and I really don’t need you on my case about this. You’re better off leaving if you think I’m gonna stop. Go move on like you did when you thought I was gone.” The last part was a low blow and he knew it. You couldn’t know when he was coming back or if he was. It wasn’t even moving on. It was just doing what you could to not be drowned every waking moment of every day. Even if it meant laughing like nothing went wrong- like there was no gaping hole in your chest.

Even if it was with what friends you had left, even if, in the moment, it looked like you’d never missed him. Yes, he realized he was wrong when you gasped how you did. When you cried instantly and threw yourself into him- but some evil and minuscule voice in his head said it was lie. Though, that itself, was a huge lie.

“I can’t believe you’d-”

“Believe it.”, he had said, and by God he wishes he hadn’t.

❝Sᴏ ᴄᴀʟʟ ᴍᴇ sᴛᴜᴘɪᴅ, ᴄᴀʟʟ ᴍᴇ sᴀᴅ, ʏᴏᴜ’ʀᴇ ᴛʜᴇ ʙᴇsᴛ I’ᴠᴇ ᴇᴠᴇʀ ʜᴀᴅ. Yᴏᴜ’ʀᴇ ᴛʜᴇ ᴡᴏʀsᴛ I’ᴠᴇ ᴇᴠᴇʀ ʜᴀᴅ, ᴀɴᴅ ᴛʜᴀᴛ ᴋᴇᴇᴘs ғᴜᴄᴋɪɴ ᴡɪᴛʜ ᴍʏ ʜᴇᴀᴅ..❞

You never answer to unknown numbers. If they weren’t in your contacts and no one was set to call, they weren’t worth answering. Something in you had told you to answer the phone and for once- just once, you did. You almost hung up when your first few ‘Hello’s gained you no response. You didn’t know that sound of your voice sent him into shock for a moment or so. It had been so long since he heard it. He spoke so fast too, a nervous tick of his. Speedy and stuttery. It’s how he always had been, and you half-hated half-enjoyed the way it made your heart do flips in your chest. Butterflies rose up in you and you felt like a teen again.

It was insane how after all this time he still had you like that. How you knew his apologies were sincere and how you had missed him so so very much. he had missed you too- he was practically dying without.

“I’m like.. eleven minutes away from you by my webs I just- please. I want to see you- I want to talk this out. That was a low blow and I.. I was so wrong, about it all. I could use a break- I should have taken one- should have thought more of you and May when I was out doing what I was doing. I.. I don’t know about putting up the mask forever but.. I don’t need to fight everything. I sure as hell don’t need to fight you.. please.”, he had said.

“Okay but.. you’re only eleven minutes away from me if I keep driving like this for.. ha, eleven minutes. You’ll be farther if I just stop.”, you tease, just cause you could. You’d earned that much.

“... I’ll swing for a half hour- even longer just.. I miss you. I-.. god, please. I mean I understand but.. please..”

You sigh softly, unable to deny that you wanted this too, “I didn’t stay I’d stop driving. I’ll see you there.”

He lets out a breathy laugh of relief, “Great. I.. I’ll be there. Promise.”

“See you soon.”

❝Yᴏᴜ’ʀᴇ ᴇʟᴇᴠᴇɴ ᴍɪɴᴜᴛᴇs ᴀᴡᴀʏ, sᴏ ᴡʜʏ ᴀʀᴇɴ’ᴛ ʏᴏᴜ ʜᴇʀᴇ?❞

“Maybe I deserve this..”, Peter sighed into his mask, overlooking the city from where he was perched. He had Karen keeping an eye out for you or your car. You had said eleven minutes. Karen detected one traffic incident but it was a route you never took. It was shorter, but accidents were frequent there. He didn’t dare look into what might be involved in that traffic incident. Not just because he didn’t want to be tempted to go check it out- but also because he knew his luck. He knew yours. He didn’t want to panic, but with every passing second, he was losing it.

All the worst case scenarios were running through his head. Every bad possible thing- because of course it’d happen. Of course the day he finally decides to call you- to get some courage and-

“She’s here.”, Karen says, and relief courses over him. You’re here and once he lays eyes on you he feels as weak as always. You’re still as he remembers and he swears it’s like you haven’t changed. He can feel you so near and you’d only just gotten there. Memories flooded through him and his longing grew. He missed you- oh fuck, he missed you so much. It took everything in him to not web you to him- but he couldn’t risk that, not now and not here. He had to make it seem like he didn’t notice you. You knew the drill. Years of being with him, you knew the risks and when it was alright to take them, now wasn’t the time. You had to play it safe. Anyone could be watching.

You stood by the building and waited like you were waiting on someone to come out. He kept his head forward but his eyes stayed on you. He was damn glad no one could see his eyes with the mask on. Karen kept a look out, being sure nothing was nearby. He had to wait on her all-clear, simply because his own emotions and wants fogged his rationality and focus, especially when it came to you. You’d always clouded his thoughts, even when he was out as Spider-Man. How could you not? You were and still are his everything. He’d always love you, even if this meeting didn’t go as he hoped. There was no one out there like you, there never would be.

“God- I want to jump down to her- she’s even looking at me with that little grin-”

“No, Peter. I have not given the all-clear. I am still searching and you have poor judgement with her.”

“Ouch, Karen- even you’re mad at me? Still?”

“I-”

Gunshots went off suddenly, someone was screaming about a drive-by but it wasn’t warning enough. He was up high and you were down there. He jumped but he wasn’t fast enough. Super-speed wasn’t in his arsenal of powers. Nothing helpful in the moment was, but he still tried. The very second he saw the gunfire nearing you, he jumped. He leaped for his very life, reached with all his might but you slipped away, stray bullets shocking you into falling. You fell right onto the concrete. People in passing were screaming- some started crying out of fear, dropping to the ground like flies. For every shot, three people went down. It was chaos and as selfish as it was, he only cared about you in the moment. Spider-Man wasn’t there, Peter was. Peter only needed to see you- he had to hope you were fine-

He hoped you were only grazed- begged for you to be fine.

“Please..”

He didn’t look, he didn’t pause, he went straight for the nearest hospital once he reached your limp body. Swinging high and fast- in a way he knew you’d hate if you were conscious- or just awake enough to know. You had to just be out from shock- nothing else- His adrenaline was pumping through him like mad- like never before. Harder than when he felt himself dying- quicker than anything ever. His breaths were ragged and raspy- raw and painful. His chest was tight and he had to fight to see through his tearing eyes. His fear was eating him alive, shaking his core and straining his muscles.

The nearest hospital seemed so far away. It seemed like thousands of miles- like his webs weren’t fast enough- and the warmth seeping into his suit wasn’t helping a damn thing. It was like it was weighing him down with every passing moment. Every second you weren’t yet at that hospital, he was losing his mind. Panic was absolutely consuming him and yet he continued.

“Please- oh my go- please- for fucks sake- not her!”

He screamed for a doctor once he landed- lost his mind as he ran in. He can’t remember what he yelled or who he scared. he didn’t care if this could get you labeled as someone Spider-Man knew. He could fight that battle later. He had to survive this one first.He had to let them get you on a gurney- had to ignore the splotches of dark red on you- had to forget how limp you felt. he only focused on your breaths, shallow as they were, they were something.

He hated that he had to change out of his suit- it meant he had to leave- and being alone was no help. He had to peel his suit off and ignore the feeling in the pit of his stomach. Had to ignore the sickening warmth that stuck to him- sticky and noisy but he had to ignore it. Hopefully it was his blood and he couldn’t feel it. Maybe he had been grazed. The blood on his palms couldn’t be yours. He’d never be so unlucky- not like this not now or ever. It couldn’t be this way. He had to remember that as he ran back in- as he put on the facade that he’d heard from some friends or something and had to know your condition.

He had to play positive thoughts in his head like a mantra in his head as he waited on news. You couldn’t go- you promised. Years ago, you promised you’d be his girl forever. Even when you two fought- even when he was being a damned idiot. You’re his everything- you wouldn’t leave him. You swore- you even agreed to see him after the stupid shit he said.This couldn’t happen. He loved you, you loved him- how rare was that? A love worth fighting for, a love that went through hell and back? A love people wrote books and novels about- full on series that ended tragic for shock value. That couldn’t happen to him- he couldn’t be some cliche. You would be damned if you ever became some-

“Mr.Parker..”

His head shot up, “Yeah?”

The silence the followed was deafening. His heart thrummed in his ears as the nurse who called him beckoned him to follow. The very halls made his senses go off- there were people just hanging on the brink- there were people morning- people talking to someone hooked up to machines with no promise of waking. People saying goodbye- he wasn’t going to say goodbye- you never said goodbye. Once you learned his secret, it was never goodbye, only ever see you soon. It was because you knew. Goodbyes weren’t something he ever wanted to hear with a life like his. With losses like his. Peter grew to hate goodbyes as dumb and cliche as that sounded. You didn’t care though, you let him hate them and made sure not to say it. You had the chance to when you left him, but you didn’t. You didn’t stoop to his level and.. well, you didn’t want it to be goodbye. He had forced your hand-

The nurse led him to the Doctor in charge of your care. His face made Peter’s heart drop.

“Is sh-”

“I’m sorry..”

❝I ᴡᴏᴜʟᴅ sᴇʟʟ ᴍʏ sᴏᴜʟ ғᴏʀ ᴀ ʙɪᴛ ᴍᴏʀᴇ ᴛɪᴍᴇ..❞

“You promise you’ll be careful?”

“Only if you promise you’re my girl forever.”

You laugh softly and his chest feels like it might burst.”You’re silly, you know the answer to that.”

“Mhmm.. but I don’t? I’m oblivious, you know this considering you had to make the first move for us to even be like this.”

You roll your eyes playfully, “Well, you are right about that.. hmm..let’s see.”

He pouts, “Aw, c’mon, don’t be like that. You’re already my girl now, what’s so wrong with forever?”

You pretend to think, and it’s convincing enough to make him scared until you grin bigger than he’s ever seen. It was a smile he grew to adore, “Absolutely nothing Peter. I’ll always be here, even when you’re oblivious.. or dumb.. or-”

“No no, I get it. You don’t have to get specific.”

“You have to promise me too.”, you say.

“What?”

“Promise me you’re my dumb nerd forever?”

He makes a face, “Dumb nerd- I-”

“Promise.”, you insist, and he goes quiet, because now you’re serious. He gets why. He understands what you’re insinuating.His face softens and he accepts the rude description of him, only because you had called him yours.

He steals the softest kiss from your lips, grinning like a moron after, “You know better than I do that I’m only yours. Always. I was yours before you even knew it.”

“... You must think you’re so cool for kissing me first for once-”

“God- shut up! Let me live- just because you said those three words first doesn’t- hey! Don’t laugh! We were having a moment- I can’t-” and the rest dissolves into laughter.

In that moment he loved you so much, and he grew to love you even more. He wouldn’t trade you for the world. Not with you laughing like that- not with your smile like that. You were so beautiful then..

You were beautiful even now, as he laid you to rest with family, tears streaming down his face..

“You promised..”, he whispered, but no one could hear him. “You fucking promised and- god you were right there. I had you- I saved you- I’ve done it a thousand times why-”, he chokes on a sob, curling over to try and support himself but it’s not working. He’s crying out your name but you’re not responding.

You’re right fucking there, but you’re not moving and it’s absolutely killing him. You fought through everything with him- The Snap- villains that snapped his bones like twigs- beat him to a pulp. You were used as bait by a villain that knew too much- he saved you from them. From a falling building- from death- so what the fuck?

How is there no one for him to blame? No one he knew personally- no one but himself- but time and fate?

“It was only eleven minutes- god- I was ready to be done I swear- please- come back, I- Fuck.. god- I’m..”, he started to sob, “Come.. come home to me.. come... home with me..”

Everything was lost to sobs.. and not a damn soul could pry him from where you lay.

❝sᴏ ᴡʜʏ ᴀʀᴇɴ’ᴛ ʏᴏᴜ ʜᴇʀᴇ..❞

Making a new taglist soon but taggin @starksparker to be an ass. Also @grandmascottlang and @spiderboytotherescue

[go-diane-winchester]

How incorrect tagging contributes to SPN ship wars

@radioabsurd left this very impassioned rant about the behavior of SPN fandom in the main tags.  Let me point out that there are things here, that I would say are correct.  There are things however, that I am not happy with.  I am not certain about this person's sincerely.  Let me put it that way.  I edited bits that contained blasphemy because I don't want that nonsense in my post.  I also added bold font to the bits that made me smirk.  Other than that, everything is as it appears.  My commentary is in italics and brackets.  Thank to doll face for forwarding this to me. 

Supernatural Fandom

If you hate the actual angel Jensen Ackles, don’t talk to me, like my shit or any of that.

[A polite suggestion for people to ignore her]

If you hate the actual angel Misha Collins, fuck off and don’t talk to me or like my shit.

[Disrespecting Misha warrant the use of profanity.]

If you hate on the actual angel Jared Padalecki, please block me or you will get blocked.

[A please is thrown in, so the politeness is back.  Also, note the order in which these actors are mentioned.  Any other person would mention Misha last.  But no, Jared gets last place, like an afterthought.]

I’m so tired of this hate people give each other in the fandom with the ship wars and shit.

[Honey, I would like to point out that all the hate, especially the violent ones directed to the actors, comes solely from the destiel shippers.  Everyone else retaliates.]

I FUCKING ship #destiel and #cockles, but in no way do I think J2 are not important to each other. They are the bestest of friends. In no way do I hate on Daneel, Vicki, or Gen(They are all actually queens).

[Well, at least you agree that the Js friendship is hated on by the Misha shippers.  The wife hate is a landmine.  Do people hate the wives because they ship the boys or because they genuinely found nothing to like in the wives?  I don't really care much for an actor's relatives.  But if the boys are happy, whatever rocks their boats.  Besides, who they marry is not my business.  Out of sight.  Out of mind.  If I like them, I would have no reason to go overboard and call them 'queens'.  But that is just my opinion on the subject.  Julia Roberts was never called a queen, despite her success.  Just pointing that out.  Do I think they deserve any hate?  I don't know them well enough to answer that one.  But if you put yourself out there, you are going to get the bad attention with the good.  As long as the hate doesn't extend to death threats, I say freedom of speech.  Just tag it appropriately.] 

Even If I don’t ship #wincest I’m not going to FUCKING hate on somebody for their ship because guess what! I FUCKING ship #thorki and #t'cherik and wow I must be such a disgusting human being but these are freaking fictional characters and aren’t real! (Not talking about real people ships)

[This seems friendly enough until you get to the second mention of this topic.]

If you don’t agree with something please FUCKING get over it and block it or ignore it.

[You should see the replies I get, from hellers I call out of tagging incorrectly.  They don't block or ignore.] 

Jeez, and all the ships hate on the wives and the other people on the show, not just one ship. XXXX, why am I even in this fandom.

[I concur.  There are haters of ships and people.  But unless you go into their appropriate tags, you will never find them.  Guess who tags all their hateful filth, including calling Jensen a homophobe, in the main tags? Yep, the destihellers.]

Also, if I get freaking hate on shipping #thorki (they’re not even real brothers okay, get over it) or #t'cherik (in the comics theyre not cousins thank you very much) and your in the supernatural fandom then your actually the problem.

[I don't know how to tell you this, but Sam and Dean are not real brothers either.  They are fictional.  So basically, in an offhanded manner, you have kind of insulted the people, you are telling others not to insult.  Just thought I would point that out.] 

haters get on my nerves 👌🏽

[You are absolutely right.  I cant stand them either.  Especially the ones who tell Jared to kill himself and threaten to kill Jensen.  All destihellers.  I don't deal with haters as much.  Because I believe it is your prerogative to hate whoever you want.  As long as you tag it properly.  But I draw the line at death threats, because the hate has moved into malevolent territory.  That is why I don't go onto the anti tags.  Let them hate.  But when possible felony becomes an issue, I speak up.]

(there might be spelling errors but that’s life so what eves)

 [True!  My typing is atrocious.]

My issue with this rant: 

I appreciate the effort.  Don't get me wrong.  But there are issues presenting themselves here.  This rant is addressed to the entire fandom.  The problem is that is doesn't differentiate between the instigators and the retaliators.  There is an assumption, within the rant, that everyone should like the same things in the same manner without personal opinion or prejudice.  And to be honest, that kind of uniformity in human psychology, is unheard of in human societies.  We are all different.  We cannot be expected to enthusiastically love anyone or anything unless we have been given viable reason to.  The other baffling thing on this post is the anti Vicki tag.  Interestingly, there is no other post with this tag.  As far as I can see, nobody hates Victoria.  People are generally quite indifferent towards her. 

So you are basically giving fandom and onlookers the impression that this woman gets hated when, in reality, she doesn't even force a blimp in the radar.  The only time I saw her being discussed, was when I watched in bemused amazement , as J2 tinhats were comparing her to one of the Js wives and talking about how much more nicer she was and how they respected her more.  So those particular J fans don't hate Victoria.  Do Misha's fans hate her?  If so, how are they tagging their hate.  I haven't seen anything. 

You post makes no mention of actor harassment, cast and crew harassment, threats of arson and vandalism and actual attacks on fans by other fans.  There is a different between someone saying ''I cant stand Vicky'' and ''I am going to burn Vicky's home down, while she is still in it''.  A similar arson threat was sent to Jensen by a Misha fan.  Receipts for this, and other threats, are on my blog.  To my logic, death threats are a more pressing issue than hate.  All of the aforementioned are by destiel shipping and Misha stanning perpetrators.  To people who are not aware of this reality, if they read this post, they will assume that everyone in the fandom is hateful.  They won't know about the truth.  So no, all the shippers do not have an equal hand in trouble making.  There are some that are worse than others. 

Finally, your tagging is contradictory and troublesome.  Tumblr recognizes 30 tags only, but the most effective are the first five.  For a post of this nature, you shouldn't have tagged Danneel twice.  Danneel has fans from her other endeavors. like One Tree Hill, who are not SPN fans.  They don't need to see this drama, which has nothing to do with them.  So that tag is a general/main tag and you should stay out of it.  The last two tags are for ships outside our fandom, and basically what you have done, by including those tags, is exposed outsiders to the dirty laundry that this fandom is known for.  This is where SPN's faulty reputation comes from.  ''Mentions'' is also a very widely used external tag.  It has not an SPN related tag, neither is it related to this post.  Tagging this post under that tag, also brings this fandom into disrepute.  The tags on this post, does this fandom no favors.   

The post is not a hate post, [you are reprimanding all and sundry over putrid behavior] and therefore does not belong in the anti tags.  If you are trying to right the wrongs of this fandom, do it in the main ship tags, for the whole shipping section of fandom to see.  You cant tell people how to feel about someone.  And posting this particular rant in the anti tags, is essentially you telling those people not to hate whoever they genuinely cant stand.  If you are talking about a ship, tag the ship.  If you tag your post #anti Jensen, you are telling people, this post is about why I hate Jensen.  That is the point of that tag.  That is not exactly what your post is about, is it?  Now I tag in the main tags, and not in the anti tags because I tackle any subject that is going to cause a death threat to reach Jensen.  That is the policy behind my tagging system.  Your tagging system doesn't seem to make sense.  You cant tag Jensen and anti Jensen.  These two tags contradict each other. 

Don't tag the characters on a TV show, because that is not what your post is about.  People who are non-shipping fans of Dean Winchester, don't want to be bombarded with this shipping-related rant.  This is not courteous to them.  Also, if you misspell a tag, the tag has consequently been rendered useless.  So there is essentially no point in having that tag.  Just replace or remove it.  Its not that hard.  Also, I don't think you know what a bibro is.  There are non-shippers amongst them.  So why are they a part of this ship-war rant?  You can't tag SPN or Supernatural, because the entire fandom doesn't need to see this.  The entire fandom are not shippers.  You were not addressing the entire fandom, so leave them out of it.  In fact, your title is incorrect too. 

Judging by the crux of your post, the tags should have been:

Destiel, Wincest, Cockles, J2 Tinhats, Wincestiel  

All the ship names are present.  So anyone who is involved with these ships will read them and understand.  If you want to add more tags [which I don't recommend] then add the following:

Sabriel, sastiel

I would tag these two ships because they are ships that three actors are a part of.  I don't recommend tagging the actor's names, because the post is not about them, but about shipper behavior.  They are merely mentioned as the motivation behind the hate, by your logic.  Their names are still general tags, and people searching Jared Padalecki might hate shipping and this post will give credulity to their hatred because it is invasive and makes shippers looks bad....well, worse would be the apt word to use.

I am conflicted about the motive of the rant.  No, I don't believe any of the actors are ''actual angels''.  They are human and flawed, some more than others.  I don't think their wives of sovereign control of anything.  But I appreciate the effort in bridge-building.  The doll face that sent me this, found the wincest remark offensive, but I am willing to give your the benefit of the doubt on that one, because I assume it was an honest mistake.  I am not a wincest fan though, which I why I am reacting a little differently.  Perhaps, because I am not emotionally invested. 

P.S.:  Speaking of wincest, someone told me that even wincest ship posts are being tagged with the actor's and character's names.  I don't care what you ship, but by using general tags, you are not driving on your lane.  Stop mistagging.  Unless Jared Padalecki is really pregnant with someone's lovechild, don't tag him in an mpreg post.  I don't think he wants people knowing about his baby bump.  Tag politely.  Tags like Top!Sam and Bottom!Cas are NOT general tags, so that is ok.  But Sam Winchester and Jared Padalecki, for example, are general tags, so keep your shippy stuff away from it.  Wincest fans, its your job to clean house. 

The reason why I am lenient with the wincest ship and J2 tinhatters, is because they are not repeat and frequent offenders, and they don't send death threats to actors.  In fact, if you search the wincest tag, you find a small handful of offenders, and a destiel offender who tagged her post weecest and wincest even though it was about destiel.  Now, why do that? 

Respect the tags.  Respect the actors.  Stop behaving like SPN owes you something, and keep your fantasy on your side of the fandom.

Please excuse the typos.

[padfootagain]

10 things I wish someone had told me when I started to write fanfictions

 To start this little series of posts where I will attempt to gather the best advices I can give you concerning writing, I'm going to go through a list of 10 things that I wish I had known when I started to post my first fanfictions on the internet. The first few are more about being a fanfic writer on this hellsite, but then I drift towards more writing stuff.

This might also be interesting for people who don't write, if they're curious about the whole process, I hope some of them read this as well.

I do not pretend to be right. I will never dare to pretend to be right about anything. But from my personal experience, here are a few things that I feel like you should know if you are writing fanfics and want to share your work.

This post is long, sorry. Feel free to pick up the bits that you're the most interested in.

Also, if you want me to treat a particular subject in one of these posts (that should be shorter in the future), please, do tell me. I'll be happy to (try to) help :D

Word count : 4914

Alright, let's go!

1. Spread love, spread love, spread love and spread even more love

 If you are around here, it means that you love these silly characters beyond what is reasonable. It's okay, we are all in it together. Then, do not bother with people you find annoying or spread negativity through a fandom. Block them. Avoid them. There is enough negativity in life without it spreading to stain what makes you happy. Do not hesitate to block people. You will find your stay around here much more enjoyable then.

Be kind to people. No matter if they message you on or off anon, no matter what they are asking, be nice. Listen to them. Some are very shy and clumsy with words, some make tons of mistakes while writing in English, it doesn't matter. Be kind. Make them feel welcome on your blog. Show them that you are a safe place around here. You wouldn't want people to dismiss you after you try to be nice to them right? So don't do it to other people. There are many people around here who keep on telling me that they were hesitant in messaging me because they were nervous. Don't be nervous. Talk to each other. Talk to me, I want to talk to you. Be nice with each other. If we have created this kind of fanfiction blogs, it's because we love the characters we write for. We will always be up for a chat about them.

 2. Wisely use your tags, you shall.

 Because it is extremely annoying as a reader when you are looking for a Sirius Black x Reader fic and you end up with some Jily angst. Make sure to tag all your stories, but do it accurately. Do not tag something as wolfstar if it's a Remus x reader imagine. It's just so annoying when the results don't match what you are looking for. Personally, it doesn't make me want to read the imagine, on the contrary, it just annoys me, and I will not visit the blog where it was posted.

To tag your stories, try to think about these three things :

- Who is the main character in my story ? Are there other characters that are really important in the plot?

- Which fandom am I writing for ?

- What part of the fandom is this character involved in?

If several characters are involved, try to determine which ones are the most important and tag them first. You can tag a character using both the full name or just the first name, so think about including both versions.

So, for a Sirius Black x reader story some Jily, you will have the tags:

#sirius black #sirius black x reader #sirius black imagine #sirius black fanfiction #sirius #sirius x reader #sirius imagine #sirius fanfiction #hp # marauders era #marauders #marauders imagine #marauders fanfiction #jily #jily fanfiction #jily imagine #james potter #lily evans potter

See? Then your imagine will come up first if people are looking for Sirius. It might appear for Jily too, but the order of the tags indicate that they're not that important in the story. You can also tag if you are writing fluff, angst… it's up to you. If you don't really know which tags you should use, try to check the tags used by fanfiction writers that you like, it might help.

 3. Comments are rare, but it's not because it’s you

 As a writer, you have put all your energy and soul and emotions into this piece of writing you have just posted. Fasten your seatbelt. You will then experiment the rollercoaster of emotions that goes with it:

- First, the excitement of posting something new

- Then, the long wait for any form of feedback or validation

- Refreshing the page every five seconds to see if your story has a note

- "Oh! A little heart! Someone read it!!!!"

- The slow realization striking that you're not getting much notes

- Going to bed asking yourself a thousand questions and thinking that you are the worst writer on tumblr, as your post didn't get more than 5 notes for now

- Waking up in the morning to find ONE comment on your fic

- Blessing that person with your whole being and worshiping this wonderful human being for a long while as you keep on re-reading the five-words long little message that was written on your post

- Noticing a few reblogs and looking at them all one by one to check if a comment was left in the tags

- Disappointment washing over you every time you see no tags

- A bright grin when you see a 'good fic' in a tag

Yes, this is the usual fanfic writer rollercoaster. You are not the only one experiencing it. Every single writer here does experience the same.

Yes, it is, sadly, normal to receive very few comments on your stories, it doesn't mean that you are a bad writer.

Yes, OCs are not as popular as reader inserts on tumblr. You will get even less notes for these stories. Again, it is, sadly, normal, and it doesn't mean that your OC sucks.

Yes, you will probably get more notes on the first chapter of a series than the rest of your story, especially if you take a few weeks to update. It doesn't mean that your series is less appreciated or is a disappointment.

Some characters or ships are less popular than others in a fandom. You will get less notes for them. It's normal, and again, it doesn't mean that your story is bad.

No, you don't have a psychic link to your computer that tells you if people liked your story without them actually telling you. I know you don't. But there are few people around here who seem to get that. So be patient. Be kind. And don't take it personally, because it's the same problem for everyone here.

Getting just a few notes does not mean that you are a bad writer. We are all struggling to get comments. You are a good writer, even if your story has just a few notes. I didn't get more than 30 notes on my last chapter for my Dr Who fic. My Rose Tico fic struggled to get 10 notes. One of my Poe fic reached 650 notes. There is not always a logic. Do not let the number of notes describe you as a writer. You are a good writer. Getting just a few notes must not stop you from writing. It's not because you don't get many notes that you are not skilled at writing.

 4. Make life easy for your readers: make a masterlist and some taglists

 Make a taglist where you can store the url of people who want to follow your stories. Keep it organized. If you write for several characters/fandom, accept to make different taglists for each character/fandom, and if you are brave enough, for individual stories as well. These people want to follow what you write, so it takes a little time to you, but people that are tagged might read your story more easily and not miss an update.

You can also add links to the previous part of a series or a link to your masterlist in a text post. I don't do it, because I reckon that my masterlist is pretty easy to navigate through, plus, I'm lazy as fuck… but you can be better than me and do it.

Make a masterlist that can be open on mobile. Lots of people (me included) read fanfics in the bus, or during breaks at work, or when they travel… and they don’t have a computer then. So, if you want them to find your stories on mobile, you will have to make a masterlist that they can open on the app. We will take all the steps to create such masterlist one by one. Perhaps there is an easier way to do it, but no one ever told me how to make a masterlist, and that's the only way I found by myself, so I can't help you more than that I'm afraid. If you can't do it that way, ask me for help or ask another fanfic writer who has a link to her/his masterlist in the blog description and try the method he/she used.

To create your masterlist:

1. Create the text post that will become your masterlist. Nothing more than a very normal text post, and publish it on your blog. On this post, you will put your stories and the links leading to them.

2. Open this brand new post and copy the full name of the page in the toolbar at the top of your screen (the full https://ww.tumblr.com/... thing)

3. Go in the settings of your blog and choose the edit appearance menu (the same that you used to decorate your blog and make it pretty).

4. Choose the 'edit theme' menu (website theme section). You arrive in the edit theme page where you can change the theme for your blog, the colours…

5. In the first section called 'appearance options', you can enter the title of your blog, a short description of your blog and choose your avatar. This section also holds the information that are showed on the app. It is in this 'Description' section that we will put the link to your masterlist.

6. In the description, after you've added the text that you wanted, you will have to enter the whole bit of coding that I am writing here. It will allow you to put a link to your masterlist using the link you've copied to a word written in the description. So, you have to write : <b><a href="Insert the link to your masterlist here "> Enter the name of your link here</a></b>

You have to paste the link you have copied in the bit that I have written in italic. The part written in bold is where you type the words that will appear in your description for the link (I stayed traditional, and wrote Masterlist, for example).

7. Don't forget to save your changes, and in theory, if you go to the page of your own blog, the link has appeared in your description, and when you click on it, you have access to your Masterlist!

After that, it's up to you to keep your masterlist updated! If possible, try to make a masterlist as soon as you start writing (or as soon as you have read this post and realized that you desperately needed that damn masterlist), and try to update it everytime you post a new story, or else you might forget a post, or look through your own blog for a while to find the right post again.

Some people use a tag system instead of a masterlist. I find it less reliable. Everything is in your masterlist, I find it easier for readers to find stories and navigate through your writing. But then, it's up to you. I can't help you with the tag system though, as I don’t use it.

Also, do not hesitate to reblog your fics a couple of times after you've posted them. It's not just about promoting your own work, but you have followers from all around the world. When it's night for you, it's the middle of the day for some of them. So reblogging your story to make sure that every time zone has a chance to see it is actually for your followers, not for yourself.

 5. Requests are open, but not everything is okay

 An advantage of tumblr for both readers and writers is that requests are so easy to make. For readers, it's wonderful because someone else is going to write a story they are dreaming of but can't write themselves. For writers, it might stir your imagination and make you think of new stories that would have never crossed your mind otherwise.

Now, that being said, as a writer, you have the right to refuse a request. Do not feel guilty about it. This idea doesn't ring a bell? It sounds weird? You just don't like it? Then refuse it. Stay kind with the person who requested it, but refuse. You are the one who is going to spend hours and hours bringing this story to life, you need to like the idea that is proposed to you.

Make sure that all the requests that you have accepted are either in your askbox, or in a google doc, or in a note book… but anyway, all at the same place. It's easier to go through them all when you are looking for something to write then.

You do not have to write them in a specific order. Don't feel guilty for writing a request straight after receiving it when another one has been sitting in your askbox for several weeks. Your imagination is not something that works on demand. Write what inspires you the most, and if a request that you like doesn't inspire you enough to write it for now, then wait, until it inspires you enough to write it.

Most people open their requests and close them once they have received a few. Then they write them all, and re-open the requests later. It's a very good way to do it and to keep control on your requests.

Me? My requests are always open. Why? Because, if a new follower of mine wants to ask for me to write something, I want this person to have the opportunity to ask. Also, if someone just has a wonderful new idea, I want this person to be able to send a request too. It's one way to do it. Then, you will drown in an ocean of requests that you will never be able to get out of. But as long as you accept the fact and warn your followers that their request will take a long time to be written, I reckon it's pretty fair too.

Never feel obliged to open requests. If you don't feel like it, then don't. You are the one who will have to write the whole thing, don't do it if you don't want to.

Do not imagine that the person who sent you a request will leave you a nice comment to thank you. It is extremely rare. Especially for anons. Here again, don't take it personally, it's not about you, you didn't screw up their request, it's just that no one receives this kind of message.

I remember an anon who asked me to make a part 2 to a request that I had written for her/him. And so I asked in my answer to his/her message if he/she liked the first part. He/she said 'Well, of course I liked it! It was wonderful!'

But dear anon, if you don't tell me that you enjoyed the story that I wrote for you, I actually can't know that you liked it…

But dear writer, if you never hear of this anon who sent a request ever again, it's not about you, I'm pretty sure this anon loved your story. He/she just assumes that you know how brilliant you are. Here is the misunderstanding between readers and writers.

 Right, now, let's get to the writing stuff…

 6. Experiment, experiment, experiment and experiment again

 Especially if you are starting to write fanfics, you will need to find out the best process that fits your personality to write. There is no magical way to do things that will suddenly makes it easy for you to write, and writing keeps on evolving as you grow as a person and also in skills. Don't expect a nice little thing you will do to pass the time. If you really get involved in it, writing is tough. Writing is crying on your own as you write a sad scene. Writing is spending hours looking for tiny details and vocabulary to make sure that you are accurate. Writing is forgetting a thousand plot twists between the moment when you are under your shower and you sit down to write. Writing is waking up at three in the morning to write because you suddenly had the best idea ever.

You will suffer. But you will also find the most addicting feeling that exists in this world, if you manage to completely lose yourself in your story. Bye bye debts, responsibilities, family problems, work… if you manage to get to the orgasmic trance of writing, you will forget the whole world, and get lost in your story. And that is worth everything that makes the life of a fanfic writer shitty.

As I mentioned, to get to this fabulous state of mind, there is no perfect recipe. Because it's different for everyone. You need to try different things to find out which process fits you best. So here are a few things that you should try:

- Try to write different types of stories : adventure, angst, fluff, AU… you will find out that there is a kind of writing that you like the most. For me, it's mainly fluff, with some angst to get it tastier…

-Try both reader inserts and OCs. Both have advantages and drawbacks. You can write both. I do write both. Sometimes though, if you have a very clear idea of your character, it's better to make an OC. For a short one-shot, reader insert is much simpler, and will allow you to not spend two bloody hours looking for a name for your character…

-Try to write with 'I', 'you', 'he/she'… You will soon find one that fits you better. Personally, I hate that bloody 'I' for example.

- Try different tenses. Some people prefer to write using present, others past tenses. It's up to you, just try to be consistent once you've settled for one, or it can be quite confusing.

-Try to plan a story, and try not to plan a story. Some writers need to have the skeleton of the story already written down before really writing the whole thing. Try to make little notes on the characters you create then too. Personally, I can't do that. I hate planning fics. I just write the first things that come to my mind. Do not be ashamed of either process, they are both valid, and trust me, they will both get you to writing full fics. My longest fics are more than 500 to 800 pages long. 0 planning. It works for some people. A friend of mine is unable to start a fic if he doesn't know every single plot twist in it. It just depends on how your brain works. Try to apply both techniques, you'll quickly find out that one is better for you than the other, or perhaps you'll just plan a few things but not everything... it's up to you.

Finding your process of writing is personal. That being said, don't hesitate to ask for advices to writers that you like. You can ask for people you trust to read your fic before posting it as well, you can get good advices then.

 7. Make sure your comfy

 No matter for how long you plan on writing, make sure you are comfortable. In your bed, at your desk, outside… write where you are comfortably sitting/lying down. Take your favourite candies, keep a bottle of water and some coffee/tea near at hand. If it helps, turn on the music. Make playlists for writing with your favourite songs. You will have to experiment the effect of music on your writing too: with music, without music, with lyrics, without lyrics… here again, it's up to you.

Make sure you have the internet too. Because you will often need to check a random fact about the world you're writing about, or some vocabulary… or because after a little while you won't be focused anymore, and you'll probably end up reading fanfics on tumblr before getting back to writing, so be already prepared.

 8. Find your own pace

 I am here talking to fanfiction writers. We are not paid for our writing. We have no deadlines. Therefore, there is no rush. I think that the worst advice that I have ever seen for writers was a post that explained how to write a thousand words a day. Basically, it was explaining that you had to force yourself to, step by step, increase the number of words you would write before stopping and doing something else. To me, this is the WORST ADVICE EVER!!!

DO NOT FORCE YOURSELF TO WRITE!!!

You are spreading love about characters for free, the last thing you want is pressure coming from it! If you force yourself, you'll start not enjoying it, and that's the last thing you want, trust me.

Here again, you have to experiment. Perhaps you are the kind of person who writes a paragraph every day. Perhaps you only write once a week but then you vomit ten pages in one sitting. Perhaps you write once in a while. Perhaps you are like me and can't go to sleep without having written at least 1000 to 2000 words that night. It depends. Do not force yourself to write. You will find your own rhythm. You just need time to find it. Just write when you want to for as long as you want to.

Also, do not rush your brain to create a story, especially for complex stories like series. Some people are fast, between the moment they have the idea for the fic and when they actually write it. But some people need to think about this idea for a while. Personally, 90% of the time, an idea is going to be brewing in my brain for days, weeks, sometimes months or years before I write it down. It's okay, take your time.

An advice to writers with minds twirling with ideas constantly like me: if you have so many ideas, some will be better than others. Wait for a bit then. Some of these ideas will disappear by themselves after a few days or weeks. Write the ones that remained in your brain, no matter if you waited. They are the best ones you came up with. Write the ones that you still have in your head a month later.

Your pace will also determine how often you post your fics, obviously. Do not put any pressure on yourself to write faster because you haven't posted any story in several days. Take the time you need to finish your story. Take your time. You're in no rush. No matter if people are asking you to update soon, you're the one who's writing the damn thing, so go to your own pace.

Wisdom would make me tell you to try to focus on one story at a time. But wisdom is not a fanfic writer. If you have checked my blog, you know that I write many series simultaneously. It's just because my brain is unable to focus on only one story at a time. So I just start many. If you feel like you need to finish this story before starting a new one, then finish it first. But if you feel obsessed with this new idea, let it out and put it down on paper. It won't leave unless you write it anyway, so better get rid of it before it drives you nuts. Here again, updates for new chapters and beginning of new series must be done at your own pace.

Also, wisdom would make me tell you to finish a story before posting it. But wisdom has much more self-control than I do. You don't have to wait to have finished the whole series to post the first part, unless it works better for you. Once again, your own pace.

If you are facing a writer's block and you need some time away from writing, do not feel guilty about taking that time. Take a few days, a few weeks, a few months if necessary, until you can go back to your story. You can also try to write for new characters/fandoms, sometimes it helps, but sometimes you just need time. So do yourself a favour, and take it.

 9. Your story, your words

 How many posts did I see on this hellsite telling you to not use 'say', to not use this type of words, but rather that type of words…

Do yourself a favour. Write whatever you want.

If a word exists, it's because it describes something. An emotion, an action… and if you need to describe that precise thing, then use the damn word for it. And use 'say' as many times as you want.

There is no stupid reaction for your character. I do giggle in real life. I do blush a lot. I do cry easily. I do feel better around some people for no logical reason. Do not listen to the cynical bunch of fake intellectuals who are pretending that these actions don't exist. They do. You can describe them the way you like. And if you want your character to smirk, then make that boy smirk.

You have to apprehend writing like a freedom. There is no one controlling you when you write a fanfiction. There are no standards to respect, no limits to your imagination. You can use any word that you may like. You can write the stories that you want, the way you want to.

There's no need to aim for a vocabulary that you don't master. Especially if you don't write in your native language (like me). You can use a few fancy words, but sometimes it'll be clearer with a vocabulary that is considered like simpler. There's no reason to overdo it.

Try to include both descriptions and dialogues in your work. Dialogues are dynamic, they carry a lot of weight in your narration. They are also very important to carry emotions. But you also need descriptions to get the reader in a certain atmosphere, and to make the actions clearer. If a character picks up a knife, but you have never indicated that he was in a kitchen, it may be a bit confusing. But then, the balance between descriptions and dialogues depends on you, here again, no magic recipe. Just try to get both in your story, you'll find out that it'll be easier to carry out emotions and to make the plot advance then.

Ha, and one more thing, because I said that it was your story. There is nothing wrong in writing a very bold fic with an idea you've never seen anywhere before. But there is nothing wrong either in using a popular AU, a popular idea, a popular OC… there is nothing wrong with that. Because no one has ever written that AU the way you are going to write it. So write it. With your own plot twists, and your own words, and your own feelings. Do you know how many coffeeshop AUs I have read? I have lost count. Do I still want to read more? Yes, please. Because it's cute, and I want cute. How many readers were made a fellow pilot in the resistance and fall in love with Poe Dameron? Here again, I have lost count. Do I still want to read more about that? Yes, please, I do, bring me the angst and the fluff! And please, write it, because I've never read this story written by you, and I want to read it.

 And now, my last piece of advice for this very long post, but the most important piece of advice that I can give you:

 10. If you do not like tips, do not take tips.

 Tips are written by people who have one way to look at a problem. They look at the problem, and they find a solution (sometimes, I am not even sure that they have faced the problem themselves to be honest…). But it is the solution that would fit them, not fit you. Now, you may come across some advices that are very good for you and help you get better at writing. Then cherish these pieces of advice and use them. But if you realize that an advice is not working for you, then leave it behind and try something else. Writing is too personal to have golden rules that need to be followed to reach your goal. It's a slow process. You will never stop learning and improving. Here again, try to experiment the advices that seem interesting to you. Abandon the ones that don't fit your personality.

I have never followed a single advice that I have seen on this website. I write rarely less than 2000 words a day. Not respecting tips that you encounter does not mean that you are a bad writer, or that you'll never manage to finish a story. It just means that you don't write like the person who gathered these advices does. And there's nothing to feel guilty about. You are still a valid writer, you are still creating amazing stories, your process to do it all is just different.

Writing will bring you such a feeling of freedom, do not let yourself be trapped in stupid rules that someone else invented out of the blue.

 And if nothing that I've written helps you, then it's okay. It just means that we don't see the same thing in writing, and we don't write the same way. But you're still amazingly talented, and I think I'm not that bad either. Just enjoy writing. Enjoy sharing your stories. Enjoy reading the stories that are shared by other fantastic writers that we are lucky to have around here. Just enjoy it all, and be kind, to both others and yourself.

[margridarnauds]

Director's Cut: Paradise Lost?

Thanks! I know I mentioned it before, but I’m really excited to talk about this one!

Paradise Lost

My newest child, whom I love even though I have no idea how I’m going to feel about it in a couple of months. 

The full backstory to it is that me and @janetcarter were talking Terra Nova, as we are wont to do, since we have our own batshit insane version of that show that only really makes sense to us. (It involves bondage dinosaurs, authoritarian regimes, oppressed Americans, spray bottles, 1789, and about 867% more gay than the original show could have possibly conceived of.) And they’ve been rewatching it, so they’ve been kind of liveblogging it to me, and we were discussing Taylor being an authoritarian bag of dicks again. (This is an ongoing conversation; it’s great.) 

And they made the mistake of saying this: 

And it eventually led to me doing a half-mad rant that would form the skeleton of Paradise Lost. In the annotations, see the original text in italics VS the final text.

  “YEP.

 “DIRTY WORK.”

“THERE’S NO OTHER WAY I CAN INTERPRET THAT ONE” “MAYBE SHE DOESN’T KNOW THE FULL DETAILS ABOUT PHILBRICK BUT YOU CAN BET YOUR ASS SHE KNOWS *SOMETHING*” 

And, from there on, it was all Paradise Lost. I ended up copying and pasting those messages in a GDocs file, edited it, added some description and a few plot points, and within a day I had a one-shot. 

So, I accidentally wrote a one-shot out in a Tumblr pm and I was just like, “You know what? Fuck it. I need to write a one-shot out of this. My productivity’s been low recently, anyway. Merry Christmas, Avery, hohoho. Have some angst.” 

It was actually really exciting, in a sense, because this is a totally different setting than I’ve been working with for the last year and it was a chance to expand my horizons, even though, as has been HELPFULLY pointed out to me, it’s still set in the past. Just…millions of years ago as opposed to just hundreds. I played myself there.  

(Annotations under cut)

Taylor’s kid talks when he’s drunk.

Pretty much the first new sentence that I knew I was going to include. I really like the idea of Mira addressing Lucas mainly as “Taylor’s kid,” like, despite him being a pretentious little prick who thinks he’s a genius, she still views him as a whiny kid.  

It’s something they put up with for the sake of the mission, he comes in, gives them their marching orders, and takes a bottle or two of moonshine, the pink-purple liquid spilling across his lips along with the stories.

The fruit they come from is called “Frut” and it’s an ongoing joke between me, Avery, and @elluka, so it only made sense for me to include it here as an in-joke. Lucas loves that sweet frut juice. 

Also: It is 100% canon that they make alcohol from it. I ended up having to look up what dragonfruit juice looks like to make sure this would be as authentic as possible. 

 Not that she cares enough to make sense of the stuff, to Mira they’re all the same as those calculations he draws out on the rocks in bold white chalk, rambling on and on.

Most of the others, they’re smart enough to avoid him, they’ve been out here long enough to know a Slasher in the woods when they see one. So, that means Mira’s the one to keep him company, giving him another when his stock runs out, praying that there’s enough left over to keep up morale, because that’s always a problem in a hellpit like this.

People get lonely, start thinking about the past, wanting things that they can’t have. The alcohol, even if it’s weak compared to the real stuff, helps them drown it out for a little while, though she doesn’t take it. 

Sadly enough, we get so little Sixer development that we don’t really know what morale’s like in-camp, the show’s too busy telling us that these are Bad People because they oppose God Emperor Taylor, but I would suspect that, given that unlike the colony, they only ever intended to be here temporarily, it would have to be pretty miserable. How long were they told it would be? A couple of months, a year? After all the years it would be, I can only imagine the homesickness from some or the resignation from others. 

Tl;dr: Yeah, I suspect they would be bargaining with Boylan for some of that frut juice or they have a still in-camp, though it probably has to take a backburner to more important things like medicine and food. 

Instead, she keeps Sienna’s face in her head at all times, wrapping herself around it, thinking of her bright smile as she’d walk through the door, dropping the raggedy toy that Mira’d got her after a mission as she ran to greet her. (She tries to think of whether it was a T-Rex with the faded red fabric and the drooping limbs with the stuffing worn out of them or a spinosaurus, and when she can’t, she feels the need to get out of this place and back into the real world like a jolt in her brain.)

The reference to Sienna’s toy came in fairly late, but I actually really liked it, because (1) It adds that worldbuilding as far as Mira’s economic situation and (2) It reminds me of a bit from the original script where Terra Nova was HUGE, so of course dinosaurs would be a big thing now, and there’s a certain irony to Mira being sent to destroy something that her daughter loves so much in order to give them a better life. Also, I’d just seen a review for various spinosaurus plushies, so I might have been inspired.

It’s also really important that she refers to 2149 as “the real world,” as her way of distancing herself from whatever she does in Terra Nova, as well as distancing herself from Wash and her feelings for her. “This isn’t real, this is a job, it’s not the real world, it’s an alternative timeline.” 

This time, there wouldn’t be another time. She’d get the job done, get home, and give Sienna the life that she deserved. And she doesn’t give a damn about what she has to do to get it. That’s what she tells herself, and it’s what she’ll believe.  

One of the things that I really admire about Mira is how FOCUSED she is. That’s something that can be both a major pro, since it means that she’s very driven to get her goals, but it also means that she can be harsh when she feels like other people are falling behind and not focusing, even, say, to a young child like Leah Marcos. 

Until then, she’d keep giving Lucas Taylor the moonshine, quietly hoping he’d choke on it, until he wound up drooling on the floor before going off to brood in a cave for the next six months.

In case no one can tell the level of respect I have for Lucas Taylor, Boy Genius.

Alright, but judging from Mira’s interactions with him, she is clearly deeply unnerved, and even though his calculations are necessary for getting her back home…well, if he chokes, it’s not really HER fault. It’s this terrible situation where she’s stuck with him even as she’s clearly scared by him and would probably want him dead under any other circumstances.   

“You know what? Those people-I-I feel sorry for them! They’ll never know the truth about the Great Nathaniel Taylor,” he raises his arm suddenly, as if he was trying to give a clumsy toast, spilling moonshine everywhere.

“Seriously, WHY THE HELL wouldn’t Lucas at least tell the Sixers? He knows that to the colony, it’s The Great Nathaniel Taylor, but the Sixers don’t have any stake there”

Uh huh. Daddy Issues story #326 - Been there, done that, she thinks as she wipes some of the sticky liquid off of her cheek. 

This was honestly one of my favorite lines to write. One of the things that I mentioned to Avery while I was live-blogging writing this is how much I honestly LOVE Mira’s POV, given how incredibly snarky she is. It’s like she’s aware of what show she’s a part of and she’s dedicated herself to ripping it apart. 

I’m so used to working with viewpoint characters who were born centuries ago it was honestly a bit refreshing, as much as I love Lazare “Javert was busy so they booked me instead” de Peyrol and Solène “Women’s motherfucking March on Versailles” Mazurier. Mira is just so fundamentally DIFFERENT, being very blunt and no-nonsense as well as the aforementioned snarkiness, that she was really a treat to work with. 

The way the kid talks, you’d almost think that this kind of thing was unusual . They were all soldier’s kids, these days. They’d all had to do what they had to to survive, and not all of them had mommy and daddy propping them up through the early years, either. Going from home to home, place to place, hoping that a bomb wouldn’t explode over their heads, holding a gun in their hand from the first time they could salvage one.

“Lucas was there, and in between crying about his daddy issues…why wouldn’t he expose Taylor to the world?”

It’s always been a pity to me that we really didn’t get all that much backstory development for 2149, except for that it’s a Very Bad Place, pollution, wars, etc., so it was a bit of fun trying to imagine what Mira’s past might have looked like given she’s obviously not as privileged as the Shannons or the Taylors, the former of whom are definitely INSANELY privileged. I have to think of when Taylor’s doing his whole “I survived 118 days in the wilderness” thing and Mira snaps back, “Yeah, we’re going on 1000.” There’s this…edge to her, and it takes a lot to impress her, and I have to think it’s because she’s survived so much that there’s really little that can surprise her. 

She makes a non-committal sound in response.  

“You don’t believe me, do you? Nobody else does, but you see -” Lucas laughs as he leans forward, and Mira wonders if he’s really lost it this time and what to tell Phoenix Group if their golden boy’s finally cracked under the pressure. “I was there. When my father killed him. And now-Now he wants. To kill me. I know everything, about how General Philbrick tried to get my father to step down, and my father killed him as if he was some carno that’d gotten lose. He buried him under Pilgrim’s Tree, he buried him there and let it rot, but-” Lucas smiles, sharp and predatory, and it hits Mira in the gut that he believes this “He couldn’t kill me. I know the truth.”

She eyes him as he is, trying to run it through her brain. Taylor’s a son of a bitch, but not a murderer. As if he doesn’t notice, he goes on, slamming down his bottle with a dramatic flourish as he spreads his arms out wide, “The great Taylor family tragedy-The mad king, the exiled prince, and, as always, no one listens to the oracle. But it’s all here,” he taps his head, “It’s all right in here. Don’t believe me?” He says, with the smug self-confidence that makes Mira want to punch his teeth out, even smugger with the alcohol. “See for yourself. Remember the name: Richard Philbrick.”

“'Don’t believe me? See for yourself.’ Lucas would say, with that smug self confidence that makes Mira want to punch his teeth out, settling instead for ignoring it. 

I really, really hate writing Lucas, because it feels like no one would ever say this, but then I remember that he described his relationship with his father as “A Shakespearian drama that borders on Greek tragedy.” Like a pretentious douche who strings together important-sounding words. But, I do kind of like the idea of him treating himself and his father as just…players in a larger game. 

Mira finds herself thinking of it long after he’s back to drooling on the floor, with a hell of a hangover coming in the morning. The kid’s been loose in the wild for too long, everyone knows it. It’s like playing with a tiger to get anything out of him, and most of the time, he speaks in equations, not words, as he holds his brilliance over everyone else’s head. God knows what goes on in his mind.

“And at first Mira wouldn’t believe it, because Lucas is demonstrably unstable + would make up ANYTHING to discredit his father, but as time goes on it makes more sense. And, after all, Philbrick has dropped off the grid”

The line about equations, not words is exactly how I feel whenever he appears on screen and the rest of the characters have to pretend that the words he’s piecing together actually make sense. 

And he hates his father. Not that you need to be a genius to know that one. He’d say anything about him, so long as it’d rain on Taylor’s little “big bright beautiful tomorrow” parade. Taylor’s an optimist, always going on about that bright new future for everyone. Peace, love, the American way, all that bullshit. Murdering someone-It’s not his MO. There’s nothing in the three inches-tall dossier they handed off to her the week before she went through Hope Plaza that’d say that. 

I had to get “There’s a Big, Bright, Beautiful Tomorrow” stuck in my head for this. 

She turns in her hammock, watching the tops of the trees sway gently in the wind through the little netted opening that’s as close as she’s got to a window, as a pteranodon flies across the moon. There are times she could almost get to like this place. She thinks of Sienna and frowns. Almost.

You will never know how pissed I am that we never got to see “Mira’s Lair” as Taylor calls it. I think that they would have to have some form of netting to keep out the mosquitoes and any other creepy crawlies, but yet again, the worldbuilding was shit there and I’m sad. 

(She remembers the first time she’d seen the moon, without the pollution there to cover it up or a million lights to dim it, white and gleaming and so big, Wash’s arm, strong and warm, around her as they’d made their way to the colony.) 

The kid’s lying, she tells herself, there’s no point in taking the bait.

In the morning, he’s back to scrawling more equations on rocks, and she’s back to taking care of her colony. That should be it.

It isn’t.

It sits there in the back of her mind, buzzing like a little mosquito that she can’t quite swat. She hates that about the kid, how he can get under her skin, make her think.

Taylor as a murderer? It doesn’t fit with that squeaky-clean, messiah complex image he’s tried to work up. Not that he’d be the first. Everyone has their demons, and God knows what’s underneath that benevolent dictator image. But if he was, then… 

If he was, then Wash is involved, too. But of course she can’t say that, because that would be admitting it to herself. 

I have to think that given the amount of corruption in 2149, Taylor being a bitch wouldn’t be a surprise, and that’s something I tried to show, but that it doesn’t fit HIM (and, more importantly, Mira’s still trying to protect Wash in her mind.) 

She ignores it, and ignores it, but it’s still there, in the back of her mind, and finally, she gives in.

“She ignores it, and ignores it, but it’s still there, in the back of her mind”

Is Taylor really capable of that?

“Is Taylor capable of that?”

So she checks. Still being in contact with 2149 has its perks, and she doesn’t have to run that kind of thing by Taylor (convenient, the voice whispers in her ear, that he controls the access to the outside world. She’d always thought it was so no one decided to get stuck on something dangerous like “democracy” or “basic human rights,” but it’d be useful as Hell if he was keeping something a secret.)

“And keep in mind: The Sixers can CONTACT THE OUTSIDE WORLD AND GET THAT INFO”

Philbrick’s missing they say, but there are holes in the record. Missing in South America? It’s the new “went on a long vacation and never came back.” And even if she’s not out there writing equations on rocks, she’s not stupid. Stupid gets you killed, where Mira’s from. Her employers play the evasion game, remind her what she has to lose if she presses, and she folds. Officially. But she knows one thing: Richard Philbrick’s dead, and wherever he is, it’s not South America.

So she checks. Philbrick’s missing they say, but there are all those little holes.”

Honestly, I hate writing any kind of detective work, because it all feels like a reach, so this was a hard section to write. But also absolutely necessary. 

Boylan seems to know everything that goes on in the colony, for the right price, and she corners him one day after they’ve just gotten ahold of some medical supplies.

Thank God for Boylan providing the plot-convenient information. Or not providing it, as the case may be. He actually wasn’t planned, but when I was writing it, it felt like I needed more between the web search and Mira making her realization, so Boylan got to make an appearance. Yay, Boylan.  

He just shakes his head, “Isn’t enough money in the world to make me tell you that.”

You know it’s bad when Boylan’s not willing to haggle for information. You know, it’s sad when you think of it: Boylan guarded Taylor’s secret faithfully for years, and only gave it away by accident…because he was tortured by the man he’d once considered a friend. Taylor deserved all the fallback from that one. 

“You and he used to be old war buddies, now you can’t stand each other. So what happened?” She tilts her head as she stares him down, the way she knows makes her people stand down when they’re being stubborn. 

He just shakes his head head again, walking away, and that’s all the confirmation she needs that something’s up.

Philbrick’s disappearance.

Taylor turning on his own kid.

Taylor turning on Boylan.                      

It all starts to make sense.

But there’s one thing left, one thing she needs: Proof.

The next time Lucas shows up, she glares at him, “The body. Where is it?”

He smirks in response and takes her to Pilgrim’s Tree.

I really debated including this section, because it seems to go against canon, but I couldn’t imagine anything LESS than that convincing Mira, when she knows that the body’s there. 

That’s the thing with secrets: They never stay buried, especially if you leave someone alive to tell the tale. 

“The thing with secrets is that they NEVER stay secret long” - Literally the first line of the rant that kicked this off. 

And the body of a man, missing a limb in just the right place, well, that tells a story all on its own. There’s no point doing anything with it, when all they have’s the word of Taylor’s unstable son and a corpse against a legend. Better to put him back in the ground and wait for when it can be useful. As they cover the body again, spreading dead leaves across the upturned soil so it looks undisturbed, Mira feels her gut twist.

This was my haphazard attempt at keeping things consistent with canon, as much as it could be. 

It’s never been personal between her and Taylor. It’s just a job, just like it always was (she tells herself as she thinks of trusting dark eyes sparked by the firelight as Wash sat opposite her, stretching a black hairband absently between her fingers, her black hair loose around her shoulders. That night, she’d forgotten her mission for a moment. Just a moment, but it was enough.)

“And slowly, but surely, things make sense. And honestly, Mira’s horrified, because it was never PERSONAL between her and Taylor. It was a job (she tells herself as she thinks of trusting dark eyes by the firelight).”

It doesn’t really make sense for MIra to have that undercurrent of bitterness that she has towards Taylor in canon; my girl’s a mercenary at nature, I can’t see her taking it personally. But this? Was honestly the first time Mira’s character clicked for me. 

Also Wash + her hairband is one of my favorite things, in no part because of the 1789 crossover meaning that she and Laz get to bond over their ponytails. As is Wash sans hairband, because I’m gay. And imagining Wash’s younger, idealistic self honestly hurts, because Mira’s betrayal took so much of that from her. 

She knows why she didn’t want to believe it: For Taylor to be capable of it, that means that everything Wash told her, all that bullshit about a better future, is a lie. Wash is always there by Taylor’s side, saying “How high?” even before he says “Jump.” (He doesn’t deserve it, she thinks; if she was with them, she’d be raking in a solid 2 or 3 figures more as a medic alone.) There’s no way she doesn’t know.

“And maybe she doesn’t want to believe it because for Taylor to be capable of it, that means that EVERYTHING Wash told her, about a better future, is a lie. Wash is as complicit as Taylor, she’s always there by his side, there’s no way she doesn’t know. 

Also, props to Mira for STILL thinking about how much Taylor doesn’t deserve Wash even as she’s realizing that Wash is complicit in human rights violations. 

She’s never been one for the new, better future that Taylor goes on about, about second chances and fresh starts, she has to spend her time on solid ground with what they have now rather than chasing after rainbows and unicorns. But when Wash talked about it, hope in her eyes, Mira’d almost…

And as it all comes together Mira feels a little bit of her heart (which is already mostly hardened, after years of war, years of eat or be eaten only a few inches of red pulsing muscle remain, and it’s for her daughter and Wash) calcify.

And as it all comes together Mira feels a little bit of her heart (which is already mostly calcified, years of war, years of eat or be eaten hardening it, only a few inches of red pulsing muscle remain, and it’s for her daughter and Wash) calcify.  

This is one of the bits that remained virtually unchanged from concept to final product, mainly because I really, really liked it, and it’s probably the reason I ultimately ended up writing it down in the first place. 

“Still doing Taylor’s dirty work?” She’ll ask, several years later, as Wash looks up at her in-Hatred? Anger? Surprise? Mira blames the smudged black eyeliner for hiding her eyes.

‘Still doing Taylor’s dirty work?’ I know the truth now, is what she’s really saying, I’m not naive anymore.”

Not that it matters. Not anymore.

She’s trying to say that it doesn’t matter what Wash thinks and that she’s over it, but she isn’t. She was still hoping, on some level, for Wash to say something. But then she doesn’t, and so Mira uses her as leverage for what she wants, telling herself that it doesn’t matter because it’s all for the mission, anyway. 

I know the truth now, is what she’s really saying, I’m not naive anymore.

I know.

And somehow, it doesn’t feel as good as she thought it would. 

This line was the only thing I could think of to end it on, even as I didn’t like it overly much, but I wanted it to be a very bittersweet at best ending from Mira’s perspective. She’s broken free of the lies Taylor told, at least she thinks so, she’s brought Wash down a peg or two, but it can’t be a victory because she really didn’t get what she really wanted, which was for Wash to renounce Taylor and jump in her arms. 

My other alternate title was “Prometheus” [which I discarded because (1) It was Lucas levels of pretentious and (2) it centered Lucas rather than Mira], and I feel like both of the titles kind of encapsulates the idea there: You get the knowledge you want, but at what cost? 

[frustratedpoetwrites]

Dancing in the dark

Chapter three also on AO3

A/N Great big hugs and fist bumps to @theravenclawmouse and @alrightginger for being wonderful people in general and editing this for me. Also thank you to @raissassampaio for the amazing graphic it is perfect.

A/N I was halfway through putting in all the italics and making it look right, when lovely Tumblr messed with me again so if you want to read it as it should be please do so on the AO3 link above.

Chapter Three

Over the next few days Lily threw herself into her project and forgot about stupid James, with his stupid hair, ridiculous shoulders, and his annoyingly gorgeous smile.

Her days started to blur together, anything to take her mind of how she felt standing on the street watching him walk away from her.

She would get up, get herself ready, eat a couple of granola bars for breakfast if she felt like it, and if she didn’t feel like it, she’d throw them in her bag to eat later. Then, after all that, she’d go to the dance studio, where they were being more than generous about letting her use the space gratis. Once there, she would work out her routine, practice, eat something, practice, make corrections, and practice some more. Finally, she would go home when the studio kicked her out, eat again, practice on the roof until it got too dark to see, and then collapse in bed, too tired to move.

There were a few things that brightened up this monotony. Remus and Sirius sent her regular snaps, and texts. She even got a snap of Angel with Remus telling her he missed her, and Sirius was out of control without her.

She was standing in their tiny kitchen trying to find the motivation to go to the studio again when Sirius called.

“Morning darling, what’s the plan for today?” He asked when she answered

“Nothing more than normal, just about to head out.”

“Please for the love of god, Lils, do something else today. You need to rest, even the rehearsal natzis here give us days off to recover. I wish I was there to look after you.”

“You? Look after me?” She scoffed. “Angel said you are going wild without my influence.” She could  picture the hair flip in his response.

“Angel is keeping my boyfriend all to himself. They don’t give him the same days off as me. So of course I’m going to create a little mischief.” She rolled her eyes. “Don’t roll your eyes at me, sweetheart. I know you too well.”

“I wasn’t.” She replied all too innocently, he chuckled.

“Promise you’ll take today off? Don’t make me quit this shindig and come running home.”

“I promise love.”

“It’s going to be amazing, Lils. I can feel it. But it’s never gonna be anything if you don’t look after yourself.”

“Yes, okay don’t be such a nag.”

“I only do it ‘cos I love you darling.”

“I love you too. Give Remus an uncomfortable hug from me.”

If she thought about it, she was feeling a little tired today. Her calves were aching and her shoulders were stiff. She needed a really good stretch and she hadn’t eaten many proper meals beyond sandwiches in ages. Sighing she changed out of her dance clothes and grabbed her yoga mat.

Molly’s was not her favourite place to go on her own, but it was close to her place, cheap, and the specials were always really tasty. Molly was a really good cook, and always piled way too much on Lily’s plate. With a full stomach, she was feeling much better about taking a day for herself. She needed to make some calls, and ask a few favours anyway. After her chat with Sirius she felt a little more confident about dealing with things she had been putting off. She would set her yoga mat out in the park and enjoy the day.

She looked at her phone again, studying the message she had received a few days earlier. The message she had been trying to forget and obsessing over simultaneously.

JAMES

Hope you’re doing ok

Haven’t heard from you

I’m sorry about the other night

I was a jerk, but you annoyed me, so I

Just couldn’t stop myself.

She had read it over so many times she knew what it said without looking, she sighed and looked out the window trying to arrange her feelings. She rubbed her eyes, then tapped out a reply.

LILY

It was all my fault, I’m sorry too.

Do you wanna meet up?

Looking down at the message with her finger hovering over the send button, she decided against it and deleted it instead. This is ridiculous, what am I doing? Determinedly, she typed out another message and sent it before she had time to think herself out of it again.

LILY

I’m sorry too. I was being a bitch.

I would like us to try and be friends?

She put the phone back down on the table and it buzzed almost immediately.

JAMES

Sure thing ;-)

She smiled at the screen, feeling a little bit better, and less alone in this big city. Although she didn’t really know how she could be friends with someone that she just wanted to throw herself at. Someone that she fantasized about running her fingers through his hair. Someone that she pictured kissing her neck while she breathed in the scent of him. Shaking her head to clear her very non platonic thoughts, she got up and went to the park to try and clear her mind.

ထ

James was going for a run. He was going for a run, and he was going to enjoy it, then he would find somewhere else to write. Somewhere away from this brick box he was living in.

There was nothing wrong with the place, as far as brick boxes went, it was a very nice one. Remus had good taste, but just over week of solidly working and only sleeping when the words started to swim in front of his eyes, he knew he needed to get out.

Before he selected a playlist, his fingers twitched over the call button.  Should he invite her for a run? Find a way to build something between them, whatever it was they now were, friends? Could he stay just friends with her? He had apologised even though it hadn’t been his fault in the slightest, and it had taken more self control than he thought he possessed to turn her down and walk away. But she had been trying to manipulate him, something that set off alarm bells, because he would not be the pawn of another woman, never ever again.

He had been angry and infuriated with her, but then he had spoken to Remus. Told him everything that had happened after they said goodbye at the bus.

“She’s going to hate me now,” James said, he could hear laughter over the phone.

“I highly doubt she’ll hate you,” he replied, clearly amused, “no doubt frustrated at the time, but it’s clear she likes you.”

“Was I stupid to walk away?”

“Some men would say you were, but those men are not deserving of Lily. And it is those type of men that Lily is used to.”

“What does that mean?”

James heard Remus sigh and could picture him clearly shaking his head.

“All of Lily’s past men have let her down. She has never had a healthy relationship, to the point she stopped expecting anything from them, apart from the occasional brief hook up. The fact you turned her down, because you want more than that probably means more to her than you know.”

“She didn't look very appreciative at the time, trust me.” He snorted, “I don't know what to do. What should I do Moons?” He had not meant to sound so pathetic, but Remus could obviously hear the desperation in his voice.

“I wish I could tell you the answer, but I'm not exactly an expert in this area. Reach out to her, send her an apology.”

James spluttered at the thought. “But she’s the crazy…”

“Don’t call her crazy. Take the higher ground and say sorry. It will make it much more difficult for her to ignore you. Provided you don’t want her to ignore you.” James yelled in frustration momentarily placing the phone against his head. When he spoke again his voice was calmer.

“Why am I bothering about this? I should just leave well enough alone. I have had enough of fucked up relationships, concentrate on my work.”

“And who was it that gave you inspiration to write?” Remus voice was gentle, like he was reminding James of something important, and yet there was also the hint of smug satisfaction. “For some bizarre reason, only Sirius knows, he told Lily to leave you alone. I am rather annoyed at him about that.”

“You can tell him no matter what happens he’s not going to lose me across the ocean again, and he has no right to decide the fate of his friends.”

“He knows.” Remus put such emphasis on those words James knew they’d had a discussion about it, there was a pause while both men thought their own thoughts until Remus continued. “Apart from this are you doing okay? Do you need me to send you anything.”

“I’m fine, Moons, honestly. It’s nice to be my own person. I'm gonna go, send my love to Pads, speak soon.”

“Look after yourself, and send that text to Lily, she might not reply straight away but give her time. Whenever you need to chat just call, love you man.”

“Love you too buddy.”

He had sent a text to her two days later, not knowing what to expect back, deciding that whatever she offered he would be okay with. Waiting for a reply had been hell, but she had. Replied that is. And they were now ‘friends’, and he had absolutely no idea what that meant.

So he was going for a run. Without her, he decided. Then he was going to email his publisher, and he was going to get on with his fucking life and stop thinking about Lily Evans.

ထ

Lily beamed at her team of dancers, eternally grateful to each and every one of them for doing this for free. She knew they were also there in the hope they would get a proper gig from it, but she hadn’t guaranteed anything. She couldn’t think any further past this showcase so promising to give anyone a job past that was impossible for her.

The weeks of hard training had been worth it, they were finally ready, and just as well as the panel was the very next day. She reminded them all to check their phones for the location of the performance, and they all hugged her warmly as they left, filling her with praise for the choreography. She took their compliments with smiles, and nods but the internal struggle with self doubt was loud in her head that day.

The normally soothing shower at the studio didn’t help, that and the the fact she couldn’t get hold of any of her friends. Angel’s tour was on a lockdown because of some leaked lyrics to a new song, and not being able to talk to them was making her feel lonelier than ever. She looked at her reflexion in the changing room mirror, before she quickly dried her hair with the hand dryer, she looked washed out. She needed to talk to another human about her worries.

She looked at her phone, her constant companion and holder of all her friends and councillors.

Should she call him?

They had been exchanging slightly flirty, slightly teasing, texts for a while, along with bantering and talking about their day. He had sent her a picture of him all sweaty after a run, with the caption something to get all hot about.

It had gotten her hot, very hot indeed.

She had sent a pick back of her midriff after a rehearsal. Anything you can do I can do better!

It was all fun and light, they never spoke about anything troubling them, never suggested meeting. They flirted from afar, each from inside their own comfort zone.

She found his number high in her frequent call list, and feeling as though she were stepping into new territory, she sent a text.

LILY

Hey.

Do you have a min?

She didn’t expect a reply straight away, so she slid the phone into the back pocket of her jeans shouldered her bag, and left the studio. It wasn’t until she was halfway towards the park she felt it buzz.

JAMES

Hey, Everything OK?

LILY

I have a big dance thing tomorrow and I am freaking out about it.

Remus and Sirius are in some kind of lockdown and I can’t get through to them.

She took a deep breath and looked at the words on her phone before adding the next line of text.

Can we meet? To talk?

Lily stared at the three dots for ages, they disappeared but no text arrived, she closed her phone and thought perhaps it was too difficult to be friends, still strange and uncomfortable. Finally it buzzed.

JAMES

I’m really sorry Lily, I would love to but I can’t right now.

This is NOT a no I just have a meeting.

As soon as I’m done I can meet you?

LILY

It’s okay, I’m fine.

Don’t even worry about it.

She put her phone away, annoyed at herself for being slightly upset. Of course he was busy, it was a perfectly normal thing to be. He wasn’t turning her down, he just had other plans. Feeling low she changed direction to the cozy little coffee shop she knew was on this street. They made the best hot chocolate, and she was going to drink a bucket of it with a massive slab of chocolate cake.

She just so happened to glance in the window before she walked in, of all the fucking places. James was there, looking gorgeous in a dark red button down, and happily smiling and laughing with a leggy blonde with a severe bob, who was wearing a beautiful flowery dress.

Lily froze, her jaw dropped. He was meeting a girl in her secret cafe. Not even Sirius knew about this place. She spun away from the window as he looked up, terrified he would spot her, fuck!

She pressed her back against the wall hugging her bag, her heart pounding, ignoring the sideways glances she got from a few passers by. Was the whole fucking world against her? With a deep breath she pushed off from the wall heading for the bodega instead, and the biggest tub of ice cream they had.

ထ

James looked up as he saw a flash of what he thought was red hair at the window, and frowned when he didn't see any person with it. Shaking his head he went back to his conversation.

“I think December twelve gives you plenty of time don’t you think?” He smiled and nodded in reply to his companion, as she made a note in her diary. He loved when people still liked to use pen and paper.

Paper was real, it reminded him of books. Books should be held, cared for, spines cracked and words inhaled, pages turned slowly with every line cherished, they should fill rooms in homes, and change people's lives.

“Yes, that sounds great he replied,” he felt his phone buzz in his pocket and used the excuse of writing that date in it to check it.

LILY

Don’t worry about meeting up,

I made a date with Ben and Jerry.

He frowned at his phone, then looked back to his publisher who smiled back at him gently.

“I’m so pleased you have come through the darkness. This new direction your work has taken is exciting.”

“Thank you for trusting me enough to give me the time I needed.” He replied. She stretched out a hand to where his was resting on the table and patted it gently.

“I’m here for you, if you need me.” She withdrew her hand with a little smile, then added. “It’s my job after all.” She stood up to leave and offered her hand to him, he stood up to shake it, remembering another surprisingly firm handshake.

“It was a pleasure, Mr Potter. It’s always a privilege when I can finally put a voice and a face to the words on the page.” He returned her kind smile and fiddled with his hair as he sat back down, staring at his phone.

Shit, what do I do? He wanted to call Lily, he liked to hear a person's voice. He made better decisions when he could hear the tone used when speaking. Their recent back and forth had been a different experience for him, he had felt completely out of his depth. The pictures she had sent him, the flashes of flesh that hinted at things were driving him a little wild with desire. He had told her she would not win, but this was a game she seemed to know the rules far better than he did.

          This new direction of the text game was changing the rules again. He knew Lily was unhappy, knew he was probably not the person she wanted to talk this over with, and not even he had time for her. He sat staring at his phone for a long time and not getting any closer to making a decision. Eventually he typed out a text and hoped she would call him.

JAMES If you ever want to talk,

about anything, I’m here.

ထ

Lily stood enveloped by the familiar darkness of the theatre stage. All she could hear was the deep breaths and fidgets of the dancers around her. She wriggled her toes and felt the coolness of the floor through her soft soled shoes. This was going to be perfect, this was going to be the beginning of something new for her. She closed her eyes and shook out her arms wriggling her fingertips and pushed herself up on her toes before planting them firmly again.

“When you and your team are ready Miss Evans.” An unfamiliar voice called from the stalls. She nodded, even though she knew they could not see her, and listened for the music. To her group she said quietly as the lights came up,

“We’ve got this guys. Just stick your marks and follow through every line. Ready? one…two…three...”

ထ

Monday night football was one of the biggest things James had missed while living in South Africa. True enough it had been available through cable, or on a couple of streaming websites, but time difference had made it more like Tuesday morning football and it was not the same.

He was missing his friends, missing being able to talk to them. Remus was a great sounding board, and had shown a surprising amount of knowledge of romantic fiction. Looking at the pictures plastered all over the fridge made him miss them even more.

He was lounged on Remus’ comfortable enormous couch, a couple of empty beer bottles at his feet, completely relaxed. His phone started to ring, he was curious about who could be calling him at this hour, hoping that perhaps the lockdown had ended, he looked around for his phone but could not see it. Shit where is it? Standing up he listened to try to locate it and realised he must have left it on the bed.

He scrambled up the stairs but it had rung off by the time he found it.

Lily had called. She had actually called. He slumped onto the edge of the bed staring at her name, wondering to call her back when it pinged for a voicemail. A very loud Lily was on the other end.

“Well, of course you don't answer your phone, I mean why should you?” Lily’s voice slurred. “Your probably having an amazing time with that hot piece of ass I saw you with.” He heard a slight sob in her voice. “While I’m at home in my PJ’s drinking wine out the bottle.” There was a pause as he heard the fridge door open. “Why do I always have to fuck everything up? You are so goddamn hot and I am such a coward. I’ve tried so hard to be a good friend to Sirius. He’s concerned I would break your heart again, so I thought, easy - I’ll just stay away. But then I have dreams about your fucking shoulders, and the way your shirt clings to your arms, and the way your smile curls at the edges of your lips.” He heard the quiver as she took a shaky breath. “I’m so fucking lonely. Do you ever feel that way? Even when you are surrounded by so many people? I don’t even know why I’m calling you, it’s not like you owe me anything. I miss cuddles,” she said wistfully then seemed to realise what she was saying. “This is ridiculous , what am I doing?”

There was a thump like she had put the phone down without ending the call, her sobs could be heard clearly. James listened to her cry, his heart breaking for her, until the message ran out.

ထ

Lily woke to a pounding that she thought at first was inside her skull but realised it wasn’t. Then she thought it was the TV she had on too loud again, but there was Ryan Gosling playing piano and she looked at him in confusion. Another knock rang out through the apartment.

“All right! I’m coming.” She yelled back, wrapping the blanket around her shoulders as she shuffled to the door and opened it.

Why, the fuck was James Potter standing in her doorway?

His cheeks were flushed and he was breathing hard, some of his hair looked a little damp, like he had been running. His forearm was leaning against the doorframe above his head. He was wearing comfortable charcoal sweats and a green hoodie, he looked as gorgeous as always.

There was an intensity to his look as she opened the door that her alcohol fuzzed brain couldn't process, because pissed up and lonely Lily had convinced herself that James Potter had moved on, that she had screwed up any chance she ever had.

He must only be here as a friend checking up on her. How nice of him to ditch his girlfriend to do that. She drew herself up to her full height and best posture.

“Hello James, come on in,” she said, stepping aside and gestured grandly for him to enter. He continued to stand there in stunned silence, trying to catch his breath. He looked her up and down, as if he was waiting for her to do something dramatic. “For crying out loud James, come in! I'm watching a movie, come and sit with me.” She left him still standing in the door and wandered back into the living space. With a deep sigh James stepped in and closed the door behind him. Lily sat down on the sofa as if she was ascending a throne and patted the space beside her. James sat down slowly and cautiously as if he was still expecting her to suddenly turn into some kind of hideous monster.

Lily was feeling very happy to have James here. She reached out to grab the wine bottle again but James swiped it before she could.

“I’ll get you a different drink,” he mumbled getting up again, returning with a tall glass of juice from the fridge. “It will stop the hangover if you drink now, vitamin C is important.” With a shrug she took the glass and drank it thirstily, as he joined her once more on the threadbare couch.

Placing her now empty glass on the coffee table, she decided to make herself comfortable, and James looked like a perfect cushion, she leaned into his side throwing his heavy arm over her shoulders before laying the blanket over them both. He did not protest, just let his hand rest on her hip where she had placed it, his thumb grazing the strip of bare flesh above the elastic of her pyjama shorts. He coughed slightly before speaking.

“Why were you drinking again? I thought you had a big audition?” It was a valid point, she supposed. Why was she drinking again?

“Yeah well I did that, and now I have to wait to hear what they say so I decided to drink, because I can now” she felt James shift slightly beside her, adjusting his position. His hand gripped her hip slightly as he shifted his weight. She ignored the swoop in her stomach at his touch. “We always drink and watch soppy movies when we are waiting for news, it's the rules. Now shush so i can watch the film” The film she had not paid much attention to all night, but James’ thumb was sliding across her flesh and giving her goosebumps.

“What film is it?”

“This is La La land.” She replied.

“I can definitely relate,” he replied half to himself

“I’m surprised you came over.” She was feeling very warm against his body, her eyes blinked at the TV not taking any of it in.

“Of course I came over, you sounded upset.” He took a breath. “You said you saw me with someone?”

“It stands to reason a guy like you wouldn’t stay single for long,” She surmised with a snorting sound at the end she definitely did not mean to make. “She looked pretty, well the part of her I saw looked pretty, blonde, nice dress” She was feeling very comfortable wrapped in the blanket with him. “You were sitting in my coffee shop.” Lily’s eyes grew heavy and she laced her fingers through James’ still sitting on her hip. “Thanks for coming over,” she murmured sleepily as she drifted off, she vaguely felt him lift her hand to his lips and press a kiss there.

“The woman you saw me with was my publisher. I haven’t moved on from anything. I know this is all new territory for you, it is for me too, but I have been doing a lot of thinking. Sometimes it feels like all I ever do is think about my life. Clarissa was a horrible human being, I was too blind to see that, it makes it difficult for me to dive in again so quickly. But being with you makes the emptiness in my heart fill, and that scares the hell outta me too. I want to be the person you think of, the one you call. You told me you have dreams about me well I have dreams about you too. And one day I want to make all those dreams come true, for you.” Lily’s breathing had changed halfway through his speech, he knew she was on the edge of sleep, wondered if she had heard any of it at all. Trusting that she would not remember, and trying not to disturb her he reached for the remote and changed to football.

ထ

Lily woke up feeling surprisingly refreshed considering where she had slept. She was still resting on James’ chest, her legs between his, her hip very close to his groin. She flushed slightly at this over familiar position, as she tried to move slowly, she felt one of his arms slide off her back to the floor, the other stroked her hair down her back. She didn’t really know what to do with this new situation so carefully she lifted herself up and off his body, and gave a relieved sigh when he didn’t stir.

          She picked up the blanket that had fallen on the floor and laid it over him with care. His glasses were on the floor so she folded them and placed them on the table where she saw one of her notebooks lying open and an unfamiliar hand written all over it.

Your skin is soft and glows like stars

Your hair is the colour of sunsets

Your eyes shine so bright so full of life

The colour of summer forests

I listen to your breath and it brings me peace

Your heart could hold mine in its arms.

Lily’s heart gave a little extra skip when she turned to look at him, she reached out to brush a strand of hair from his face, but her back gave an uncomfortable niggle due to her less than ideal sleeping position, so she went to her room, changed into her yoga gear, grabbed her phone and earphones and climbed up to the roof.

The air was calm and cool this morning, summer was becoming a faint glow on the horizon. She flicked through her songs, she wanted to dance this morning but not any pre planned routine or some up beat pop song, something soothing that could help her stretch out a bit and clear her head. She hit shuffle on her playlist and put in her wireless earphones. As the sounds of the city disappeared she was enveloped by the familiar comfort of  music. If dancing was her first love, music was not far behind.

Only a human by George Ezra started to play and she started to dance.

Losing herself in the music, she tried to forget about the man sleeping on her couch, the man who had come when she called him. The man who had been meeting his publisher. He had done nothing more than hold her comfort her, be kind and understanding. A man who wrote poetry, a man who wanted more than she had ever given, deserved more than she could give. She started to spin, using the limited space to turn around the edge of the rooftop, there was water in her eyes she didn’t notice didn’t care. She kept going until she crashed right into James’ chest.

[kagepro-secret-santa]

Hello, @thatonespamanoshipper​! After your original Secret Santa stopped replying, I (Mod) decided I’d fill your prompt myself! I really apologize for taking so long, but exam season snuck up on me. In any case, I hope you enjoy this HaruTaka nonetheless!

Although admittedly not being quite a holiday prompt, I figured it’s a bit too late for that when it’s nearly February, so here’s some early Valentine’s-themed fluff! It’s still a winter event, so, that’s my excuse! Again, enjoy!

EDIT: Haha, guess who forgot that Tumblr doesn’t paste from Google Docs like AO3 does. Italics are now in the fic! lol

A puff of vapor rolled into the dry winter air, Haruka standing transfixed as he watched his breath dissipate. For a long while he huffed and repeated the process, every time taking an awkward glance to ensure the street was still empty, but eventually he realized his throat was starting to burn from the cold. To remedy this, Haruka tightened the scarf around his neck with a little “Brr!”, shaking off the snow that had accumulated in his hair.

Standing at the intersection and watching the occasional car go by had lost its novelty after a few minutes, but he couldn’t just leave… Takane being this late didn’t happen often, but he figured he’d get an earful if he wasn’t there for the walk to school by the time she showed up.

When, finally, she appeared from around the corner, stomping through what was admittedly not enough snow to warrant that drastic of a reaction, Haruka felt like he could kiss the next person he saw.

“...Hey.” She seemed mad when she finally made it to him, so out of breath that Haruka waited a few moments before he started towards the school.

“Um. Are you okay, Takane? Did something happen…?” His fingers fidgeted with his bag strap.

“Yes. I’m absolutely fantastic.” The heavy, anger-laden sarcasm was usual, if not a little exhausting.

Their trek towards the school was silent for a long while, but eventually she sighed.

“...Sorry for making you wait. I slept in, and then I forgot something I had to bring to school, and… I dunno, I wish my grandma still drove.” To further prove her frustration, she kicked at a small mound of snow as they passed.

Oh, so she wasn’t mad at him. Thank goodness, but he wasn’t particularly shocked to hear she’d slept too late. Then again, it wasn’t as if he hadn’t done the same in the past. “No, no, it’s fine. What’s the, um, ‘thing’, though?”

When she didn’t answer, he wondered if maybe he’d ventured somewhere too personal. He’d figured it was fine if she’d brought it up so casually, but…

“It’s, um, s-something for Ayano. Uh. Yeah. She needed something, and I had one at my house. It’s no big deal.” She shrugged, staring stiffly ahead.

“Oh.” That was vague, but he didn’t feel like pressuring her. It was probably a girl thing, or at least that was as far as he was going to guess.

As they walked, Haruka watched the snow tangle itself in her coal-black hair.

“Um,” she started, “y’know what day tomorrow, uh, is?”

He wondered where this had come from. Was it about her birthday? On second thought, he couldn’t remember when it was, but it probably wasn’t in February… at least, he hoped not. He’d have to remember to get that from her again, without letting her know he’d forgotten. For now, however, he ventured a guess and hoped he didn’t regret it.

“No, what?”

“Uh, Valentine’s, duh.”

“Oh… right. I forgot because, um, I usually don’t really… get anything?”

She seemed almost appalled by this. “What?! You, really?”

Something about her tone made it seem like a horrible thing, to rarely get a Valentine's gift, and he bit back the comment that he’d spent most of his school (and thus, social) life in solitary classrooms and hospitals. “Um, yeah… Sorry. How about you…?”

This made her laugh, which reassured Haruka a twinge and was altogether expected. “No, fuck that noise. It’s all dumb couple stuff, or whatever. ‘Sides, those girls who go around baking chocolates and handing them out to everyone else ‘as friends’ when they’re really just being snobby and better…”

Ah, Haruka had wandered into dangerous territory. Time to backpedal.

“Um, I guess… I guess it’s sorta sweet to give things to your friends, though… But… I sorta get what you mean?” He tried to keep his answer vaguely neutral, and this seemed to content her enough that she dropped the topic through the rest of their walk.

The day passed like nothing unusual, but she did lag behind after the last bell. Finishing putting his homework and sketchbook safely into his bag, he turned to her quizzically as he buttoned his coat. “Is something wrong, Takane? Usually you talk about wanting to leave school as soon as you can…”

She snapped out of what seemed to have been a daze as she watched the light flurry outside the window, shifting to look at him. “I. Um, no, e-everything’s fine! Yep! I’m just uh… I’m doing something after school today, actually, so…”

Ah. “Oh, right! You said something about Ayano, this morning.”

She nodded, “Y-yep! Sure did! That’s right, I gotta uh, talk to Ayano…”

He noticed she was acting like something was up, but quite frankly, he didn’t want to delve into a potentially risky conversation. “Alright! Have fun… and tell her I said hi! See you tomorrow, Takane, and don’t forget the homework!”

After a cheery wave at her, and a very half-hearted wave back, he left. Halfway through walking home, he noticed she’d texted him-- it was along the lines of “If I sleep in tomorrow, you can just walk to school by yourself”, admittedly with less eloquence.

He was starting to wonder if something was up, but when he asked, she assured him that she was fine.

The next morning, he found that the intersection where they usually met was empty. Despite what she’d told him last night, he lingered a few minutes, but eventually tightened his scarf against the lonely chill and set off to the school by himself. It was starting to feel more and more like an odd morning, but he figured he was just making things up.

The classroom door was open, thank goodness, and he announced himself as he entered.

“Good morning--”

No one was in the class, he realized. He felt himself grow flushed after embarrassing himself so badly, but reassured himself that at least no one had been around to hear it. He sighed quietly, and hurried to his desk to just take a seat and relax--

It was at this point that he noticed the box on his desk, a strong red ribbon sloppily tied onto what seemed to be a box made out of repurposed, painted cardboard. Putting his bag down beside his chair, he moved closer to investigate what it was. Obviously, it seemed to be a Valentine’s gift, but he had no idea who it could be from-- sure, he’d had the odd run-in with the other girls in the school, but he kept to himself and that only left two others. Even then, Takane didn’t seem to be anywhere this morning, and the only way Ayano could’ve gotten the chocolate into a school she didn’t even attend would be through her father, which seemed a bit peculiar in general.

Pushing his thoughts aside, he untangled the bow and placed it gently on the table beside the box. In the middle of reaching for the lid, he paused, a quick look around confirming that he was still alone in the classroom. At this rate, Takane was going to be late for class, but he figured she must’ve just slept in again - besides, it was a bit more concerning that their teacher still hadn’t shown up, other than to unlock the class, apparently. Haruka hoped he wasn’t being chewed out by the principal again, but he wouldn’t be surprised if it turned out to be the case.

Returning to the box, he finally shimmied the lid off. His first observation: there was no note inside, which continued to answer absolutely none of his questions. The second thing he noticed was the chocolate itself - only one, which wasn’t a surprise considering the small size of the box, but it was a rather large hunk of it. It was molded into what seemed to be a heart shape, but the clumsiness of the form gave away that it was homemade. Haruka felt his face get a bit hotter, but reassured himself that it meant nothing. But if there was one person who he wouldn’t mind getting chocolate from...

No, he shook his head before he could get too embarrassed. He’d always heard that home-made chocolate was only for special gifts, but he was sure there must be plenty of girls who did it for friends, too. No, no, he was already jumping to conclusions. It didn’t seem like a prank, Ayano certainly didn’t seem the type to have her father leave him a mystery gift, and… well, he was pretty sure Takane couldn’t bake, or at least she claimed she wasn’t good at it. Who did that even leave?

“G’morning, Haruka.”

Haruka whipped around at the sound of Takane’s voice, and she paused mid-step to stare at him like he was an alien. He was still holding the box, and he slowly loosened his clenched hands after being scared half to death by her appearance.

“U-um… good morning!” He gulped, struggling against the rasp in his throat.

“Uhh, yeah… You alright? You look fucking terrified. Did something happen?”

He nodded too vigorously, having to fidget with his hair to get it out of his eyes afterwards. “Yeah, um, don’t worry about it! Just, y’know, the way you showed up so suddenly… made me feel like my heart stopped, haha.” He instantly regretted the joke, the obvious fear on her face making him feel worse about his own health. But, no, this wasn’t the time, he reminded himself. It was a tasteless gag, and it didn’t merit moping over.

“Oh, uh, fuck, sorry. Didn’t mean to, um… yeah.” She paused, for perhaps a bit too long. “A-anyways, what’re you holding? Looks, um, looks like a box.”

Haruka gulped, glad to switch topics, but not quite so glad that it was this topic. “Y-yeah, I found it on my desk this morning… It’s got a chocolate in it, but no note. When did you get to school? Did you see anyone put it here…?” He instantly realized his question was idiotic, considering she hadn’t even been around to walk to school with him, but it was too late to take it back.

She looked a little overwhelmed by all the questions, or at least that was what Haruka assumed. “N-nah, just got here. But hey, chocolate? What are you, Haruka, a player? Next week I’m gonna walk in here and find half the school fawning over you, huh?”

“N-no! Takane, it’s not like that! Don’t say stuff like that…” Her teasing grin didn’t make him feel any better, and he sighed as he returned the box to his desk and neatly placed the lid back on top. “W-whatever. I just hope whoever it was tells me so I can thank them…”

She stared, but he missed it. “Yeah, well, good luck. More importantly, where the fuck is Kenjirou? He’s, like, twenty minutes late…”

The morning passed as usually as “usual” was in their tiny, stuffy classroom, which consisted mainly of their teacher whining about all the rules he had to follow (this time, it was over how he’d broken fire safety regulations), followed by a lazy two hours of class, and then lunch.

“Should I…?” Haruka gestured to the chocolate in the middle of break.

Takane directed her horrified gaze at his empty bento, mouthing “It’s only been ten fucking minutes…” before bothering to actually reply. “Well… like… isn’t it rude to the girl if you don’t? I-I mean, even if she doesn’t know.”

“Well…” He looked down at the chocolate heart, slightly deformed as it was. “I guess you’re right? Besides… it looks good.”

As he nibbled at the pointed tip of the heart, Takane found herself watching him with a bit too much glee in her heart.

“Jesus… this crush is gonna fucking kill me…” Takane said it under her breath, too low for Haruka to hear over his preoccupation with the chocolate, but she still turned to face the other way beforehand.

Haruka paused, in the middle of taking his second bite. “Mm? Did you say something, Takane?”

With the speed that her head whipped around, it was a miracle that she didn’t hurt her neck. “N-no! I was just saying that that chocolate looks good… Wait! No! I don’t want any of yours. It’s probably too, uh, sugary and gross.”

“Um… well… alright! But it tastes really nice, actually… Eheh.”

He smiled goofily, and the corner of her mouth quirked in response.

“It’s too bad she didn’t leave a note, huh.”

[phoenixfire-thewizardgoddess]

@ursy153 & @imberbimber, can I prevail on you two to read this chapter 3 and tell me your thoughts. I was editing it, and put more in, then edited that... and it’s 3am again. Also tumblr stole the italics, again.

-> “No Quick-Fix for the Common Cold” Unedited Ch3

Chapter 3: Getting Uber Your Differences

The world burns as if Pyro had turned their flamethrower on it, until it’s almost unbearable; then, without any warning whatsoever, turns icier than Spy’s heart.

Someone’s talking at him, he thinks, but he can’t be quite certain. Sounds like they’re asking… something he can’t seem to make out; the words, the sounds… they don’t make any kinda sense?

Failing to understand who or what is being spoken just heightens the sense that something is so very, incredibly wrong… like he was broken, or the world was. And just when he thinks he’s maybe grasped onto a familiar syllable or tone, the voices start again with new phrases that sound alien in origin.

He doesn’t know what they want…

What do they want?

He can’t tell these mystery beings he doesn’t understand what they’re trying to communicate, however. All chance to do so ceased what had to have been eons ago; his throat felt as if all of Dustbowl was trapped in there. Searing heat and burning sand that had never known rain, rubbing everything red-raw, eroding his voice all but completely.

Everything is… everything is nothing more than impressions and ideas. Shades of hot and cold that flush through his body, head to toe; wracking his overtired frame with shudders that make his joints ache. It feels... like the two teams are facing off against one another, and his body is the battleground; the clashing roams all over, different areas experience pain seemingly without any warning or pattern, before the war moves to a new capture point.

Sure, maybe that’s a weird-as-fuck analogy, but it’s all he has.

The only certainty in Scout’s mind is that he is at RED base right now… probably. He clings to the familiarity of that scenario… it’s all he can do to stay in the moment.

Red, Blue, battle, team, win, lose, war… game. The words mean everything and nothing.

There is no equilibrium, up and down are utterly subjective for the moment, but he doesn’t want to open his eyes and find out which is which. It seems so superfluous, so… unhelpful, to be aware of. All he knows is that his body shivers, aching and numb in odd little bursts that seemed designed to undermine his tenuous grip on reality.

But he could not sleep. It eluded him, any and all rest that might bring a moment’s peace… held so far out of reach that he could cry, if that were still an option.

And then, something changes.

At first, it feels imagined, like the phantom fingers that had held fast his throat earlier in the evening. The ones that dredged up one of his single worst memories, and saw the runner strike the Doctor, even though the man had only tried to help.

He hadn’t meant it… Medic… so angry…

He didn’t mean to hurt the doctor…

Before he could concentrate on the thought, the memory... it happened again. Someone… touched him. And he felt his heartbeat accelerate in panic, as fingers brushed against shoulder, cheek, wrist, and finally, throat. He jerks back at the last tentative touch, not wanting to have to think about That Time again.

They said something, but it didn’t feel like it was for him; perhaps the other voices were sharing amongst themselves. That sounded like a thing they would do, right? He is aware of something clamping firmly about his shoulder, a solid something to focus on, even as it causes overstressed senses to go on alert.

Why couldn’t he open his eyes and see who, or what, it was?

Why was that so hard all of a sudden?

The pressure decreases, as if they thought he wanted them away… as if they intended to leave; and he flails out, with an odd almost-word of a cry. He wanted them to stay, he didn’t want to be alone in this. Alone in the dark and unable to communicate.

Someone shouts in alarm, as he realises he’s struck something. Had he done it again? He hadn’t meant to… you know, strike them; Scout just wanted them to stay, and couldn’t think of how else to tell these soft-voiced beings that. Especially as the cry from a moment ago refuses to make a repeat performance; his throat has closed for good or ill. Hah, probably because he was, ill that is. It was an oddly amusing thought. Still, no matter how much Scout feels like he wants to scream and beg them to remain here; there is nothing emanating from his ravaged throat. And worst of all, the hand is gone… his one anchor had abandoned him.

It feels like an eternity before something else happens, and he Bostonian is aware of every passing second in the void. In a way you might never put properly into words; like the first time you experience respawn, and you find there can be no true description of the sensation in anything as crude as words, it simply is.

Every sense is overstimulated, trying to work out where the voices went, even if his eyes refused to open and ears failed to translate the words they had spoken. A muffled whine of alarm escapes as hands return, touching first the pulse of his wrist and then brushes at the one in his throat; the memory rises like a tidal wave and threatens to consume him.

As in many of the recent nightmares he’d had since the team’s reintegration; the ones so vivid that they wrenched him from sleep in a cold sweat, screaming for help, and spurring him on to seek out even the most rudimentary form of comfort. Funnily enough, Scout always seemed to end up in the Infirmary perched on a cot, or sitting in the soft armchair in Medic’s room; shaking and muttering gibberish as the memory faded slowly. The German physician always just sighed, wrapped the runner in a blanket, and provided him with a myriad of reassurances in a soothing tone. Sometimes the intervention was nothing more than the calming repetition of ‘all is vell und you are safe, hase’, along with a cup of some of the best hot cocoa the Scout had ever had; but it worked miracles. He never remembered falling asleep again after a nightmare, only what happened afterwards; when he’d wake up in his own bed the next morning, the rest of the team none the wiser of the previous night’s incidents. Perhaps it did not show, but Scout had always been grateful for that.

The memory, so recent, etched so deeply on his mind, made him shudder once more. He would quite literally pay just about anything to erase it completely… to remove the sick flashes of little things that seemed to make it all the more realistic. The taste of dusty air heavy in his mouth, the groan of a wooden floor... that suddenly wasn’t, and the strong certainty of a rope looped about his neck, holding fast when his beloved Miss Pauling grew distracted in her attempts to save his life.

“Nnngg...ooooh… nnnnnoooo…” he manages, using what little energy he had left to exert enough control over his aching arms, in order to shove the intruding person away. “Nnnnooo… pl-...ss…”

“Crikey!” comes the startled response, and the runner cannot make hide nor hair of what it was supposed to mean. Only that the figure is close by still, hovering and uncertain what to do. Scout cannot really give them any suggestions, as he did not know himself. Nor could he think of himself as a singular being, at the moment… he was just a group of loosely connected aches and pains, extremes wrapped in confusion and left to suffer.

There’s someone else there too, he thinks; their voice is different but… he thinks he knows it. He can’t understand the words, exactly, but the tone is low and soothing; full of familiar sounds that might be phrases of comfort and explanation. It feels like they’re trying to tell him something, but it just doesn’t… translate.

But… most importantly, it feels safe. He wraps the cadence about his mind, almost like a physical thing, to block out The Memory… and it seems to work.

He tries to focus on them, he does. It’s a lot harder than he initially thought it would be, but they are patient. Up is down, the sun is cold, and his throat burns even as he struggles to make some verbal acknowledgement that he can sorta hear them. Can understand they are helping… but his mouth and brain are not on speaking terms.

And then someone is dabbing something cold on his lips… it’s cool and wonderful on the chapped flesh, with small dribbles of liquid seeping through. Not a lot, not enough to truly quench the burning in his throat, but even this taste of rain on the parched desert of his dry mouth is a blessing. It is appreciated, and he wants to say so… but all that comes out is a slurred, ‘Thah...kssss’.

“No problem kiddo,” sighs the voice, taking away the cool-wet thing, much to Scout’s distress. He knew that voice, he knew… knew who it belonged… to… why couldn’t… he think… of the… name?

“Kid, ya’in there?” they queried again, gently touching his shoulder. Then more vigorously, “C’mon Son, open those baby blues… we need ya ta stay with us.”

The hands that began to shake him were broad, and the voice familiar; but he couldn’t place them. His aching body protested the treatment, but the dribble of water seemed to be just what he had needed to finally feel the call of sleep. They were growing more frantic, and he… he really did want to respond, but… it was just so much easier to let himself drift off into the welcoming void of dreamless rest.

So he did.

~)0(~

Relentless banging jerked Medic back to something approaching consciousness. He shuffled upright, mind foggy and body aching from where he had fallen asleep over his desk… in what was possibly the worst possible position for someone his age. Ach, so much paperwork!

Donning his most scathing expression, Medic wrenches the Infirmary door open. “It is four in zhe verdammt morning, vhy zhe hell are you here?” he shouts, glaring daggers at the unexpected form of Sniper. The sharpshooter seemed oddly flustered, and had a welt on his neck that looked suspiciously like he’d taken a blow there, possibly due to a delirious teammate.

Medic immediately knew why he was there, but let Sniper explain the situation anyway.

“It’s Scout, mate. Looks like he’s gotten worse in the last little bit and Truckie said he’s real worried about the ankle-biter. He can’t seem to open his eyes or stay with us for more than a minute or two at a time… most of that is this weird strangled screaming, or trying to give you a good old shot to the chops.” Sniper grinned a little at that. “Oh, yeah, and Engie said the kid’s a lot hotter that anyone has a right to be… said he could feel the heat through his Gunslinger. Which I thought was impossible, but you never know with Truckie.”

“One moment,” Medic says, striding across the room for his bag; which had been dumped unceremoniously on the floor when the doctor had stormed in hours ago. “Yes, I seem to have everything I need, lead zhe vay, Herr Sniper.”

“You sure it’s just a cold, mate? Just seems to me like he’s gotten pretty bad real fast.” Sniper asked in his unobtrusive way. They’d never been overly close before… the whole Classics nonsense… and Medic dragging the man back from the dead had not improved relations overmuch. Still, he was less than totally indifferent towards the German, so there was that.

“Yes, vhatever zhis is, it has acted far more rapidly zhan anticipated.” Medic conceded, musing aloud. “But zhen, ve are not normal men… it vould not surprise me if the rapid acceleration of vhatever he has contracted vas in some vay linked to zhe fact his blood is most likely more than half BONK! at zhis point.”

Sniper huffed out an almost-laugh in response, more an acknowledgement, if anything. Medic was delighted, even if he hadn’t really been joking all that much; he was quite concerned with the youngest member’s continuous utilisation of that radioactive drink. It would be no great shock to anyone if it was altering the Scouts on a biomolecular level.

Reaching the room changed everything, however. The almost-companionable dynamic Medic had been sharing with Sniper was immediately crushed underneath the sudden realisation that pretty much the entirety of RED team was crammed inside the medium-sized Scout Class quarters. Those who did not quite fit, or had retreated to avoid being an accidental casualty, littered the hallway outside. The whole scenario sent Medic’s heart hammering wildly within the confines of his chest.

Many of the mercenaries present still harboured perfectly logical grudges against him, considering the whole situation with the Classics had been resolved not even three months prior; and even those who deigned to look past it, in the name of group cohesion, were still somewhat cagey about interacting with the good doctor. Holiday periods and feasts excluded, obviously, as both Thanksgiving and Smissmas had been delightful events where hatchets had been buried so that all may enjoy the celebrations.

The only problem… was that many of the mercenaries had recalled where, exactly, they’d buried them. Medic could see it in their faces as he entered, the brief flicker of mistrust that spoke volumes; he was not now, nor may never be, forgiven his transgressions. A fair call, from an objective perspective on the situation… but it still hurt Medic deeply to be alone in a room full of people he once considered family.

Individually he could bear their sullen stares and simmering ire, accept their curses and comments regarding his temporary defection as part of the road to reconciliation. There was time to hear them out, let them vent and talk them through it; but in a group, such as this, he held no chance.

A cold, clammy sweat broke out over the doctor’s entire body; though outwardly he managed to maintain some degree of his usual calm and collected persona. Though perhaps not as well as he had first anticipated; for Sniper, who always seemed to just know when someone was distressed, out a companionable hand to Medic’s back and steered the other through the crowd.

The others parted, silent as tombstones, but unlikely to stonewall this ‘home visit’ as it were, with the stoic sharp shooter standing guard. Of all those gathered, it could be said that Sniper had the greatest claim to mistrusting Medic; but if he chose to vouch for him, then no one on RED would contest it.

Slightly reassured, Medic found it possible to focus on the patient before him, and his hovering Texan guardian.

Engineer had taken a real shine to Pyro and Scout when they’d all originally arrived, liked to think of himself as some degree of father figure towards the pair; so when one of them went down for one reason or another, he was always there to throw down a dispenser to heal what ailed them, offer words of encouragement to keep going, or help them get a revenge kill. Engie tended to be a versatile paternal figure with more patience than most; he was perfect for the role he’d adopted.

In anycase, it was no great surprise to anyone that the builder had placed himself by the bedside of the team’s youngest member; monitoring Scout’s every breath and twitch like some sort of living medical monitor. Although, Medic himself had had a… well, a hand, in helping Engineer affix his Gunslinger; a [piece of technology for which the specifications were both impressive and ambiguous. There was a very real chance that the metallic hand lightly holding a concerningly limp, bandaged wrist, was taking an accurate reading of the runner’s resting pulse and oxygen saturations.

The silence was beginning to press, as Medic tried to perform a visual assessment of Scout; mentally comparing current observations with those he had taken earlier in the night. Indeed, the lack of proper response to stimuli was of concern, and the majority of symptoms appeared to have increased in severity over the previous hours. It seemed to be acting rapidly, though for all his medical knowledge, Medic could not think of what this could be outside of a rather virulent strain of a cold or flu. Those sorts of everyday infections tended to breed like wildfire in cities, after all; every person who contracted it mutating the disease to a degree before passing it on. Children, of course, were the most frequent carriers of the pathogens; therefore Medic was feeling quite confident in the prognosis, given the information the runner had imparted before their rather unfortunate encounter ended.

“Vhen did you first notice he vas in zhis state?” he enquired aloud, moving closer slowly, so as not to raise anyone’s hackles. “Or, I should ask, vas he conscious or coherent vhen you first saw to him… how long ago did zhis unresponsiveness start?”

“Ah… ah reckon it was about ten or eleven when ah came ta look in on him again after ya checked the boy over,” Engie answered, goggles fixed on Medic’s every movement. “He seemed a bit shaky, real tired and the like, but he was talkin’ a little. Said his throat was bad, but didn’t wanna be touched, and ah can respect that.”

Medic nods, both in affirmation and as a polite means of requesting that Engineer continue speaking. There’s a pause.

“He did say he wanted me ta tell ya he was right sorry about hittin’ ya, made me promise ta say it if ya came back and he’d finally gone ta sleep. Thought about comin’ ta getcha then, so he could at least hear me say it, might help him settle down and all, but ah couldn’t leave him. Didn’t wanna be left alone, see?” Engineer tossed a meaningful glare over his shoulder. “And ain’t none’a ya gonna hold that against him when he’s better, ya hear?”

After everything the team had been through, it was doubtful anyone would be callous enough to mock a teammate for finding comfort in the presence of another living being when they were unwell. Though many had a feeling it might be more aimed at the Spy, who had a tendency to prod each mercenary’s weak points when he felt rankled, or was just exceptionally bored and ready to start drama to relieve the doldrum of it all.

“Alrighty then, now that’s settled.” Engie turns back to face the Doctor. “About an hour back aways, me’n’Stretch thought he’d dropped off ta sleep finally. We were gonna switch out, so he wasn’t alone but ah could get some shuteye… when Scout starts shaking worse, mumbling and the like, and we realise he ain’t asleep… just can’t open his eyes. Tried to talk ta him, calm the little fella down, but then he clocked Sniper one… and went real still.”

Medic was nodding, half-listening to Engineer and focusing on the rabbit-face heartbeat under his stethoscope; the crackle was still there, but perhaps not as severe as earlier. Satisfied, he takes the runner’s hand, and pinches him. There was a full second where he thought the Texan was going to lay him out for the movement… but it passed, as the doctor tutted worriedly. There had been a slight flinch, but it was very weak.

“What’s the prognosis, doc?” prods the inventor, after Medic seems disinclined to elaborate on the purpose of his tutting.

For his part, Medic starts somewhat, as if he’d forgotten there were other people present. “Oh, yes.  Vell, apart from zhe fact he did not respond properly to zhe external stimulus of pain… it is also apparent zhat he is somewhat dehydrated, given the lack of elasticity in his skin. Und, it vould most likely not be far off zhe mark to suggest he may not have eaten in approximately zhe same amount of time, given his sore zhroat. Neither of vhich vill be helping him.”

“You might be right there, mate. Truckie and I got a little bit of fluid in the ankle-biter earlier with the old cottonball method, but it didn’t sound like he was able to do anything even close to swallowing with a throat that scorched.” Sniper adds in his no-nonsense manner, quietly watching the physician who had brought him back to life not a few months back, lift one of Scout’s eyelids.

“Mmm, at least zhere seems to be some dilation occurring in zhe pupils…” Medic mutters to himself, snapping the penlight off as he straightens. “Indeed, Herr Sniper. I zhink it vould be best if he is moved to zhe infirmary so I can start some intravenous fluid und do further tests to see vhat else can be done to hasten zhe virus’ egress from our resident Scout. I vould caution you to perhaps consider laundering your attire and showering, to prevent any spread of infection; und, could someone tell… Her…  zhat Scout vill not be able to attend any match in zhe foreseeable future, should Blu be returned in zhe next veek or so?”

“Of course, docteur.” Spy answered, materialising far closer to the bed than anyone would have assumed him to be. For once, the man does not take out a cigarette to smoke, with his ominous statement; clearly having heard and understood Medic’s warnings pertaining to potential contagion.

“Danke, Herr Spy.” he nods in acknowledgement, and turns to the problem of transporting Scout. Of course, he could carry him, but then he would have to leave the boy alone in order to retrieve his medical bag, and-...

“Doktor, I vould be happy to carry small Scout to infirmary for you.” Heavy offers, resolving the problem, and acting as if this wasn’t the first time they had exchanged more than a fleeting verbal exchange since being back at RED base. The Russian mountain of a man moved over to the small bed, slipping his hands under the ashen runner and lifting him with all the care one would take with a baby, or a puppy.

To be so large, to have such power and yet be so kind, so gentle and caring… it was one of the many reasons that Medic had loved the man. Well, before everything happened. Heavy’s curtness held more weight than that of the other members of their team, for the ‘good doktor’s betrayal had struck on many personal levels. Medic understood, and he bore the weight of such a  burden silently.

“You have my thanks, Mi-... Herr Heavy, danke. Let me grab my zhings und I vill precede you to open zhe infirmary door…” Medic pauses as he clasps the bag shut, turning to address the rest of the room. “Und everyone else? I vill let you know in zhe morning vhat is happening vith zhe junge, or sooner should something change drastically, zhough I do not feel zhat is a distinct possibility in zhis case. Rest assured, from vhat he told me, it is most likely just an unintended Smissmas present from one of his nieces; for vhich rest und some fluids are zhe answer.”

There was grumbling, but not even Soldier had anything to say regarding the matter, so Medic decided now was the best time to take his leave of the room. Heavy followed behind at an even pace, cradling the runner carefully, as he had no doubt done for ill sisters in the past.

Neither man said anything; the only sound filling the corridor was the soft, wheezy rasp of Scout’s breathing.

And when it stuttered slightly, both men unobtrusively picked up their pace; urgent footfalls echoing throughout the seemingly never-ending corridors of the base complex.

~)0(~

- - - - - - 

Tell me your thoughts, people... most has been re-edited, but thee’s about a quarter I can’t get to or i will fall asleep in the shower, as it’s 3am. Ch4 is well under way but I was double-checking this chapter for continuity, and... got distracted. Also 1 & 2 are on AO3, if you want to read them with italics and bodl in place... >.>

[livelove-sjones]

Shipping questions

Me and @arvernii (Dom), have recently started to be shipped and were asked to make this shipping question thingy by an anon (who we have dubbed our ship captain) so here it is. Italics are me, bold is Dom, hope this is what you wanted anon, and that you find this funny.

~Shops for groceries?: Me gonna be healthy af,  Fuck that shit

~Kills the spiders?: You. Lol are you scared? No...but if I see a spider imma go buy a flamethrower so you better kill it, Lol

~Comes home drunk at 3am?: Me, I don't like staying out late lol

~Makes breakfast?: You, ME AF LEMME COOK

~Remembers to feed the fish?: Neither of us, poor fishes

~Decorates the apartment?: Me

~initiates duets?: Me, I like singing too tho… But I sing more than you

~Falls asleep first?: You, Omg me all the way

~Who is the big spoon/little spoon?: Yeah who is?, True um both?, I feel like i’ll be the big spoon but then I’ll be like SINAI CUDDLE ME and yeah LOL, Alright

~What is their favorite non-sexual activity?: Larry, and Joandler proof watching LOL, Oooh and arguing about top or bottom harry, OMG TRUE, Lol

~Who uses all the hot water in the morning?: OMG ME MY SHOWERS HALF AN HOUR LONG, dude my bath's be like 2 hours sometimes, LITERALLY GOALS. But I don't like baths I don't like feeling like soup LOL, I feel more clean after a bath than a shower (me coming back to edit this the question says in the morning, I don't shower in the morning)

~What they order from take out?: Chinese? No no no thai food, pizza, PIZZA YES SHOVE IT IN MY MOUTH

~What is the most trivial thing they fight over?: Bottom harry asf. Top harry af,  Fite me. And what fic we should work on, Omg true

~Who does most of the cleaning?: ME, But like honestly true

~What has a season pass in their DVR?: Tf is this I'm 5, Don’t really watch tv, Me either

~Who controls the netflix queue?: Me, You totally

~Who calls up the super/landlord when the heat’s not working?: You I'm too awkward, Hell no let Marble call them I don't like phone calls either LOL, Marble would totally do it (Dom’s cat)

~Who leaves their stuff around?: Me, Omg you

~Who remembers to buy the milk?: Not me I don't like milk/don't drink it, I do sometimes

~Who remembers anniversaries?: Probably me you have a really bad memory, Omg mine memory is the worse

~Who made the first move?: I messaged you first on the tumblrs, Yup I remember the week

~Who said ‘I love you’ first?: You brought up the idea to write together?, Yea cause I needed help with llw (love like woe)

~How often they fight?:  Recently super often,  EVERYDAY CAUSE HARRY BOTTOMS

~What their nicknames are for each other?: Sinnamon Roll, I call you Dom I should give you a nickname (You guys can help)

~Who's the better cook?: Probably you, ME ME ME ME I COOK YOU POTAGE DE LA MAGNIFIQUE you’ll love it

~Their song?: Love like woe, Omg Jordan yes

~Their favorite thing to do together (besides sex)?: Lol writing smut, True tho just write in general, That to

~Who ‘wears the pants’ in the relationship?: Idk me? I guess so I feel that we kinda share that really [SEE WHAT I DID THERE CAUSE LARRY (we're such larry trash) IS REAL]

~How they would get engaged?: Dom would write me a fic, Lol that does sound like me no lie, It does aww

~What their wedding would be like?: As many larry references as possible, with Jordan’s music playing, and pictures of chan

~How many kids they’ll have?: None we both hate children, Eww no thanks maybe we can rent babies and just like return them at night?, That's such a good idea

~Who wakes the other one up with kisses?: Lol I don’t wanna die and you’ll kill me if I wake you up, That's honestly so true and I think you wake up before me

~Who cooks for who?: Dom cooks for me, Cause if I don't you’ll starve LOL, You know me so well

~Who is the morning person/night person?: I'm night an owl, i'm in bed by ten, You can't even say 10 the latest normally if I don't make you stay up is like 930, Its ten right now >:[, Dude if we weren't doing this you'd be asleep already, Ok true tho cant even lie, Exactly

~Who is the romantic one?: Both of us I think, I think you are cause my idea is romance is like...ehhh, That's all you were gonna say?  Well like I don't think i'm romantic like at all tbh, Ok

~Who is the top when it comes to sex?: Me I do (Lol I'm just kidding)

~Who is the more cuddly one?: I like to think me but it could be both of us

~Who is the one to most likely pick the movie they watch?: Me Dom hates movies, Yeah I really don't like them I can't just sit still for two and a half hours haha even when i’m writing i'm always out of my chair, Lol I literally have to listen to music to pay attention I have a good 3 minutes before I'm on a new topic

~Who is the one who would pay for dates?: Dom cause I'm broke af, And sinai needs a sugar daddy, But so true any sugar daddies out there my ask box is open

~Who is the one who would initiate a quickie during classes?: Lol me tho (Again, I'm kidding)