#wrote this as a break from my art homework

[komorim]

itoshi sae that takes pictures of his meals routinely after you expressed your worry of him not eating enough. his manager is beyond relieved after he sees that the footballer is now gaining some weight.

itoshi sae who doesn’t mind being affectionate with you in public- who cares if there is a teenage boy gawking at you two while taking a picture for his twitter account that would surely be on headlines tomorrow? not sae.

itoshi sae that gets a bit cranky when you don’t reply to his messages within an hour. itoshi sae that even more cranky when you call off your nightly calls one day (it ended up with all of his teammates getting insults left and right for every minuscule mistake- his manager calls you that afternoon and begs you to not do that again).

itoshi sae who takes screenshots of your messages and saves the pictures you send him. his favourites are the ones during calls: where it is perfectly candid and his screenshots notifies you.

“what? it’s not like you’re naked or taking a shit.”

itoshi sae who proudly flaunts his relationship with you while wearing your matching couple necklace during matches. he kisses it to dedicate a score to you, and his teammates can’t help but wonder who you are (and what you have done to itoshi sae).

itoshi sae who isn’t embarrassed of his obvious softness towards you. in fact, he once almost completely murdered the opponent’s goalkeeper for throwing the ball straight at his chest, breaking the necklace.

“you glorified octopus, can’t aim for your life of you huh? even a country bumpkin has the common sense to avoid an opponent’s midfielder you-“

you were informed of the commotion by his manager the day after that (he keeps in contact with you very often, knowing that you do a better job keeping sae in check than him).

you tell sae to just not wear the necklace during matches. to which sae quips back, clearly offended:

“are you on his side? he broke our necklace?? you know, like an idiot???”

itoshi sae who still frowns at the little rust at the end of the necklace, where his manager got a professional to fix for him- vowing to score a goal at the goalkeeper’s face next time. (he now brings up the university’s goalkeeping ability every moment he gets during interviews).

-🐨 (im back againnnn ^^)

i most definitely did not expect more from you, but i can’t exactly say i’m complaining (i love you for this). i hope this means you saw my post and hopefully you also liked my hcs! now…undramatic drumroll…some more from me as well!

‣ itoshi sae hcs ⋮ part one !!

cw // none this time as well

itoshi sae who, because he doesn’t care about the media, ends up in a lot of trouble with his manager regarding how he acts. his manager has a headache he whenever he thinks about how to clean up sae’s messes, and he no doubt is somewhat too intimidated by the football player to confront him about it. so instead, resorts to seeking you out for help.

when you talk to sae about the matter, he isn’t exactly happy about it as he genuinely doesn’t see why people should care about his character when they’re supposed to be focusing on his playing abilities. however, he begrudgingly promises you to act better in public the next time. only because it was you that asked (he can’t find it in himself to say no to you, albeit he regrets agreeing to some dumb shit you ask of him sometimes).

itoshi sae who never gives his interviewers an easy time, almost always failing to cooperate with the questions asked. however, when one host on a talk show asks about you, a small smile tugs on his lips instinctually and he can’t help the shine in his eyes as he talks about you, the love of his life.

itoshi sae who puts you as his top priority, being able to drop almost everything in order to come to your aid. sae is the type to always support you no matter what. the exact definition of “even if the whole world turns against you, i’ll always be by your side.”

itoshi sae who is definitely an actions over words kind of boyfriend who’ll never really give you sweet nothings. he’s probably the type to call you a dumbass for not wearing more on a cold day as he drapes his jacket over your shoulders with a concerned expression (tsundere but doesn’t know it).

itoshi sae whose facial expression is always the same, barely ever changing. however, he doesn’t know it, but the tips of his ears always turn a bit pink and gives him and his feelings away whenever you compliment him. he loves how you’re always so proud of him, especially as your opinion is one that’s greatly important to him.

itoshi sae who saves all the paparazzi photos of the two of you together. even if they get annoying sometimes, following him everywhere, he has to admit that they take really high quality photos of you both.

itoshi sae is the probably type to either pick you up and spin you around or hug you tightly by the waist as he gives you a kiss after a big game. he’s not always this fond of being affectionate in public, but after a tense game, he’s a bit high off the adrenaline and acts before thinking. not that he cares if others see how much he loves you though.

itoshi sae isn’t the type to really get butterflies near you or when the both of you are together. though he does feel warm and loved with you. the emptiness in him that leaving home at a young age caused was filled by you. the lonely feeling that was gained after he and rin broke up was replaced by happiness that was gained from being with you. you gave him a sense of belonging that he hadn’t felt in a while.

itoshi sae is the type to have a slow burn kind of love life. he is the type to develop feelings for you over time. when he finally couldn’t help but admit that he has fallen for you, he determines that you’re the one (but before that he was most likely in denial for the longest time; like come on, just admit that you’re in love, it won’t kill you). he wasn’t going to love another; you already took up so much of his heart that he couldn’t love anyone else even if he tried. not in this life, not in the next, and not in forever.

do not copy or repost my works. likes, reblogs, and comments are appreciated.

[pricklenettle]

Parent's Ghost

This is my fic for @ecto-implosion! I wrote it based on the art by the talented @jackalspine

The little ectoblobs are made of the emotional residue of the creatures around them like dust bunnies. The Fenton house is full of both ectoplasm and emotional residue. So what happens after Danny is injured by his parents?

WC: 4,795

AO3 link

_______

Danny walked along the power lines. Not on the ground, that was for people who liked getting doused with rain water everytime a car came by. It was way cooler strolling along, way above the headlights cutting blindly through the splintery drizzle that made this evening’s twilight so dim. Danny adroitly floated around a buzzing insulator that snapped testilly at every rain drop. He continued his stroll, placing his feet just a finger’s breadth above the black wire.

He supposed he should be grateful for the drizzle, and the quiet evening that was proof of the apparent absence of ghosts to hunt. But really, he was bored. Bored, and his brain was starting to prickle with dread as calculus equations and handwritten paragraphs echoed sinisterly in the back of his mind. The image of the homework he’d left piled in his room loomed closer over the horizon. On top was the English paper Lancer had assigned him. 

He’d written two sentences for the paper’s intro before flying out his window to patrol. So far it was disappointing him. He’d found a wisp of a ghost bear rooting around in the Nasty Burger dumpster and an old granny who wasn’t bothering anybody except the park’s population of stray cats. It was getting uncomfortably more obvious that tonight his biggest responsibility was going to be his homework. 

Danny wrinkled his face. Figures, the one night he wanted a distraction, Amity decided it was time for peaceful quiet. 

Even though he knew he should be heading home he just kept walking along the wire. He folded his arms behind his head and kept an eye upward, hoping the clouds would break up. 

It was just on the edge of too cold. The drops that hit his shoulders and head were like needling icy fingers, prodding him to go home and take cover inside six warm walls. Leave the world to the rain to whom it belonged. He stuck his tongue out at the sky and pulled his phone out of his belt pouch. 

The cracked screen pulsed unhappily at him with aberrant colors. He tilted it forward, trying to shield it from the beads of water that rolled off it with bent light. There were no new messages from Sam, but Tucker was asking about that English assignment. Danny groaned and scrubbed his fingers through his hair in frustration. He knew what he should be doing, the universe knew what he should be doing, he’d cut off his toes and feed it to the resident ghost cats before he wrote one more word tonight. He locked his ankles together, drifting a little higher over the powerline while he texted back. 

“Hey, Ghost scum!” was his only warning before something exploded off to his left. The acid green light of ecto-based ammunition froze the rain in the air in a single flash. It competed and instantly won against the dim sky, lighting up the undersides of tree limbs and throwing everything into a sharp lime light. 

Danny automatically threw his hands over his face, then flew up, searching the ground through the spots in his vision for the interrupters. 

“Damn it, Mads, I missed him again,” came the only slightly quieter voice. Danny’s grin spread sharply when he spotted his mom and dad crouched behind some bushes. 

He floated tauntingly lower. “Hey, I was walking there. How’d you like it if I threw missiles at you when you were on an evening stroll?”

“I’d say you were showing off your true nature, ghost,” Jack cried, pointing a finger at him. The shiny black rubber of his gloves reflected the yellow globe of the streetlight that hummed, lonely in the rain. The single illumination of the deserted road. “An evil, mindless blob of ectoplasmic residue that’s grown too comfortable in the mortal plane.”

Danny hovered in place, daring on whatever happened next. “At least I’d be able to hit you, in that way I am pretty good.”

Maddy was scrambling to quickly reload the gun. It looked like pretty heavy artillery. It might be strong enough to blow him to pieces if the spots still dancing in his vision were anything to believe. Of course, it would have to hit him first. Lucky for him, it looked like it was going to take Maddy a while, and Danny had plenty of time to antagonize his parents. He floated lower, leaning back in the air and crossing his legs. “Don’t you two have somewhere better to be than out in the rain following an innocent ghost around?”

“No such thing,” Maddy hissed, still fighting over the guts of the big gun. 

“Menace to society you mean,” Jack shouted up.

Danny stuck his tongue out at them and raised his arms with limp wrists like the classic ghost. “Boo.”

“You won’t be saying boo when my wife reloads and splatters your ectoplasm– er,”

Maddy threw down her new rocket launcher in disgust. 

“No good, Mad’s?”

Danny looked on in utter delight as Maddie began riffling through the duffle bag at their feet. “I can’t get the damn thing to work with this rain.”

“My bad, Honey. In mark two, I’ll prioritize simplification and ease of use.”

“You can’t have everything in one gun, dear, your design is wonderful just as it is. Only a little tweaking I think.” Danny gagged overtop of them before they could get really sappy. They whipped back around, on guard again. Maddy stood up from the duffle bag this time with the net gun in her hands. She braced herself to fire. 

Danny sighed and shook his head. “You folks need to figure out when it’s time to pack up and save it for another day.” He accumulated a ball of ectoplasm between his fingers and lobbed it at Maddie’s feet. She dived to the side and came up on her knees. They locked eyes and she pulled the trigger. The net burst out with a puff of gunpowder. 

Danny flew to the side, but a corner of the net collided with his leg. The cords snapped around his boot, quickly tangling when he tried to shake it off. He grumbled, annoyed. But still, no problem. The cord was treated to be anti ghost so he couldn’t phase out, but he had a lot of energy humming in his chest that had gone unused all day long. He smiled grimly. So, they wanted to catch a ghost? This was going to be fun. He twisted around and propelled himself up above the treeline. Maddy yelped beneath him. He glanced back to see her feet were dragging in the ground and she was barely holding onto the gun over her head. He put on another burst of speed and her toes lifted off the ground. 

Jack leaped to grab it from her. He braced his feet and grunted with the strain of holding Danny earthward. She let him have it and ran back for the duffel bag. Danny wasn’t quite strong enough to lift Jack off his feet, not without phasing the big man partly out of the physical world. Danny soon found himself fighting just to stay in the air. 

Jack clung onto the rope doggedly. They both seemed pretty determined today to reel him in. No matter how he flew Jack was stubbornly holding on. As though he actually believed he and the phase-proof line could reassert the laws of gravity that Danny had gotten so used to ignoring. 

He was starting to feel a little too much like a toy kite for his liking. Careful to keep the line taut, he bent over his leg to tug at the tangled cords of the net. He was just starting to make progress, a pile of freed loops dropping to hang form his boot, when he heard a pop from below. An instant later a bolt screamed through his arm. He recoiled, grabbing his arm tight. 

The ectoplasm of his arm had been sheered away and hollowed out like a stick of butter in a microwave. Beads of ectoplasm rolled over the creases of his white gloves. 

Looked like Maddy had finally got the gun to work again.

“Hey,” he yelled down. “You missed my vital organs. For all the time you spend hunting me, I’d expect you’d at least be good at it!” He aimed down along the perfectly straight line drawn between him and his dad. As perfect as a math equation, from point a to point b. He didn’t even have to aim. 

Jack dropped backward, electric green smoldering in his orange jumpsuit. Danny buoyed up into the air, cord and gun and all. He would have gotten away then, and he was already thinking about what in hell he was going to write for his damned English paper. 

Maddy dropped the gun and leaped over Jack. She jumped for the cord before it could get away from her. Her fingers wrapped around the handle of the gun, jerking Danny back down. She’d pulled something out of her jumpsuit. Danny saw the flash of the Fenton Ghost Taser™ an instant before she pressed it against the taut cord. 

Danny cried out. His body instantly seized up, all his muscles vibrating, making his teeth chatter together. The searing pain that traced the path of the electricity came as a secondary thunder clap. He dropped out of the air. 

He hit the first branches like a second shock. Thousands of tiny twigs crackled under his descent. As he traveled lower he hit branches that bent, then broke. He caught a glimpse of the ground. All scattered with brown, lance shaped leaves. Then he hit.

***

“Ow,” he groaned, pushing himself up. He batted bits of dead leaves out of his hair and suit, making sure he was all still there. He felt like his parents had hit him with the earth like a wrecking ball. He looked up, staggering a little with the tilt in perspective, up through the hole he’d smashed through the perfectly nice canopy the tree had been working on for who knew how long. Maybe he’d been the wrecking ball. 

He had to sit down a moment, his entire body felt burned and achy from the taser. He fished one spikey piece of branch out of the side of his boot. He’d taken bigger hits and farther falls, but when he couldn’t catch himself the stupid part of him still expected to die everytime. He looked up again, ignoring the ringing in his head. He’d fallen into a damn thick patch of alders and bushes— honestly amazing he’d found any flat hard ground to hit at all.

The phase-proof cord— one end still tangled around his leg, wandered off into the underbrush. He could hear his parents thrashing around in the distance. 

Danny quickly shook off his distraction and jammed his fingers into the knotted mess around his leg. He worked and pulled at the strands, brow furrowed into determined concentration. If he turned human he could slip out in an instant, but he didn’t want to risk one of his parents spotting it through the bushes. He kept glancing up to check how close they’d gotten before returning to the net. Of all the things, why did he not keep a knife on him? His parents had made a ghost thermos and laser lipstick. Why not a Fenton Knife™?

Their crashing was getting closer. He stubbornly kept his head down, focused on his scrambling fingers and ignoring the loud sounds of Jack and Maddy following the anti-ghost cord right to him. He just needed to figure out where it had gotten tangled. A careless movement reminded him of the hole seared into his arm. Oh, ow. He’d almost forgotten about that. 

There, he’d found an edge. He freed it from a few misplaced cords, then twisted it, wrapped it back, passed it under his leg, and finally he could pull his leg free. He kicked the limp coil of net away and climbed to his feet. He could see patches of orange jumpsuit through the trees now. He gritted his teeth, pushing down the temper he could feel rearing up. They didn’t know— no. They didn’t care. He’d turned into a ghost under their noses, in their own workshop, and they’d never even noticed. 

He tested his arm with a hand. He still could barely feel it but he could already tell it was going to hurt when he got home and slipped back into his human skin. He winced when his fingers came away green. 

Danny stepped up into the air, flickering out of the visible spectrum.

***

The drizzle was still hesitant to turn into an actual rain when Danny floated outside his home. The neon sign buzzed faintly, briefly illuminating the drops that fell from the sky green, as though it was raining ectoplasm. 

Carefully, Danny pulled open his window and slipped inside. He let go of his invisibility and dropped heavily to the floor. A blanket he’d kicked off the bed bunched uncomfortably under his back and elbow, and his boot was chewing up the pages of a book he’d left open in the middle of the room, but right now he didn’t care. 

He stared up at his ceiling, at the sickly plastic of his glow-in-the-dark stars. It wasn’t dark enough yet for them to light up. The drizzle patted softly against the roof, like the Fenton building was a strange and unusual cat it didn’t quite know how to stroke. His arm ached dreadfully but he ignored it. A glancing thought reminded him of the English paper he’d sworn he’d finish tonight. He turned over, squeezing his fingers into his torn up arm. He scowled into the dark shadows that clung to the floor of his room. He’d do it tomorrow.

***

He came out of a dull fog with something nudging his leg. He hissed and kicked at it, then groaned. He was so sore from the electricity that had pulsed  through ever fiber of muscle he owned. He cracked an eye open. It was dark. Rain shadows mottled the dim light from the neon sign outside that the window cast onto the floor beside him. The constant buzz of rain on the roof made him realize he was still cold and damp. He curled tighter into himself, closing his eyes to try and go back to sleep. Well, it had decided to rain after all.

Another nudge against his leg made him open his eyes in annoyance. It was a tiny blob ghost, apparently small enough to get past his parents' sensors and definitely too small to cause real trouble. It sat in a ball by his foot, gazing him down with softly glowing red eyes. 

“Shoo,” he said crossly. “I’m trying to sleep.”

Instead of going away, it drifted up closer to his face. It was certainly brazen in the face of a much stronger ghost. Danny drew himself up into a half crouch, unwilling to let even this mindless blob catch him down and out. “You should get going, you don’t want my parents to see you hanging around.” 

Instead of listening to him, the blob rolled up to his hand. The surface of its ectoplasm rippled and then it plopped up a wet wad of bandages. 

“Eeew, that’s gross.” But it did make Danny think to look at his injured arm. He grimaced. That gun was seriously concentrated. His arm was still hollowed out and dripping with green slime. He’d been slowly leaking as he slept and it had left a dark, wet spot on his twisted blanket that gleamed dully in the low light. “Shoot.”

The small blob made a tiny murmuring chirp. He looked back down at it and it nudged his hand. He’d never met a blob ghost so friendly. The ones he occasionally spotted in the house seemed peaceable enough, but he never let them get close. They were like fruit flies, they just appeared where their sustenance was. Normally they coalesced after fights, drawn to the spilled ectoplasm like ramora to sharks. Or maybe they were created by it. Who knows. They were skittish, unfriendly, and prone to hurting pets. He didn’t really know how to react to this one trying to cuddle up to him.

When its insistent bumps got no reaction, the blob instead snagged his sleeve. It bobbed up in the air, tugging him to stand up. 

Suddenly there was another blob. It floated out from under his bed and tugged on his pant leg, seemingly for the same purpose. 

Bemused, Danny stood. The room tilted. For a moment he couldn’t move except to sway on his legs. He almost jumped out of his skin when a third blob ghost appeared over his shoulder. It settled as solidly as a blob could on its perch and hummed and chirped in his ear. Its firm press reminded him of when his dad would clap him on the shoulder, his big warm hand a steadying weight. 

The blob ghosts were still tugging on his clothes. So, Danny obeyed. He tottered tiredly toward his bed. He made the bed every day, but the blob ghosts must have been rifling through his room before they woke him up because all the blankets were half off. 

Irritated, he fell into bed. He sighed as his pillow recieved his head with a puff. His ssense of gravity became even looser as the pillow cradled his skull. He might have been floating as unmoored as he felt. How he’d missed it. Did it seem poofier today or was he just really happy to be in bed?

He shivered at the cold sheets and shifted to curl into a ball, but the blob ghost was still holding onto his sleeve. He lifted his head to show a threatening row of teeth, but he didn’t have the energy for much else. He flared the energy of his core. It had never failed to to send blobs darting away like frightened mice. These ones didn’t.

The big one that had sat on his shoulder floated through the air, a long trail of white bandage fluttering beneath it like a tail. Danny was starting to be amused. At least this bandage wasn’t already sopping with ectoplasm. 

The big blob hovered over the bed, edging the bandage closer to his wound. He didn’t know how to tell these things that you were supposed to disinfect stuff first. Whatever, at least it would stop him from soaking the mattress. He could deal with things properly tomorrow. In the morning when he felt less like a dead boy barely filling in his human skin. Yeah, whenever that happened. 

***

He’d figured out how to scare them off the night he’d been following the trail of a giant, mutant ghost snake. He’d been chasing it for most of the night and the snake had left it’s mark on him and a large chunk of Amity Park. He’d been pretty sure it was dead but he didn’t want that one coming back to life to bite him in the ass. Again. 

He’d found it in an old alleyway, its coils half hidden by mounds of trash. The huge snake had stopped moving. It was losing clarity fast and its scales were melting into the broken asphalt. The ambient ectoplasm its blood had added to the air made a glowing haze over the alley. It was also swarming with blobs. Like busy ants they flocked from one wound to the next, soaking it in like sugar water. 

Danny had taken a step back, just like anyone who turned over a log and found it crawling with maggots. Danny blinked at them, squinting with one eye crusted half shut from the fight and the other rubbery with exhaustion. The way the blobs swarmed over the ghost’s corpse before it had even bled away out of their physical world made shivers prickle all over his shoulders. Slowly he backed away. He’d confirmed the snake wouldn’t be a threat anymore, his job was done. 

He’d intended to leave the scene and creep away to finally go home, when his leg gave out and he slipped on the pavement. all the milling pairs of red eyes snapped to him. They hissed like a multi-tongued hoard of snakes. Automatically, Danny flared his core. He’d gritted his teeth, staring them down, thinking very hard about how much bigger and fiercer he was, how easy to squish them and fight them off his prey. The hand in front of him gained an unnatural edge, like a glowing afterimage. All the ghosts immediately fled, abandoning their immense feast.

After that he’d never had much trouble with the smaller ghosts. It didn’t make sense that these ones weren’t bothered about it. 

Danny took the bandage from the bigger blob and pinched it to his arm, intending to wind it around with his teeth. Instead, the three blob ghosts seized it from him, letting him hold it in place while they passed it back and forth around his arm. Danny didn’t have to do anything before he was looking at a tidily wrapped bandage. He wasn’t even seeping through them yet. 

“Thank you.” Uneasily he settled back onto his pillow, warily watching the blobs flit around like alien lights through half closed eyes.

The blob ghosts drifted like flotsam, their cool glow sliding over his freezing sheets to the glistening wood of his bedpost, then back again to bead on the dark wetness he’d spread on the floor and under his dry eyelids. His sight blurred and he realized again how tired he was, but now he’d been roused twice. He couldn’t relax with the huge, cold night huddling in the space of his bedroom. Especially not with the strange ghosts, mindless and helpful though they seemed to be.

The blobs didn’t seem to realize. They briefly floated down out of sight then reappeared holding up a blanket between them. As gently and softly as could be, they drew it over him. Two of them churred soothingly and patted the blanket around him as though they were trying to tuck him in. Danny wanted to laugh but instead he found himself sinking into his pillow, eyes blinking shut. After all, why shoo them off, he could defend himself from a couple of blobs. He yawned broadly. The third blob ghost drifted down to alight on his forehead, unexpectedly similar to the softness of a cool hand against a fever. Danny sighed and let it stay there. He already felt warmth spreading over him from the blankets, he was afraid to move or it would go away. 

The other blob ghosts settled onto his blanket around his legs. Their light dimmed as though they were going to sleep. He finally relaxed enough for the transformation to slip over his head and down his legs. He shivered furiously for a moment, like the first steps out of a cold pool where he’d acclimated to a chill sort-of-comfort and then into biting wind. Before long real warmth stole over him. 

The blob resting on his forehead began to hum. Even through his sleep drenched brain he recognised it. It was a silly song that his parents had liked and turned into a lullaby, just like every parent does. Whenever this one came onto the radio Danny was jolted back to when he was a kid and soothed into a warm bed on a close and sleepy evening. When he was a kid he’d practically vibrated with too much energy. When he couldn’t sleep Maddie would hold him wrapped in a blanket in her lap, singing that song and rocking back and forth, sometimes flubbing and making up her own words.

They needed the lullaby a lot when he was a kid. Some nights it was the only way to keep him in bed. It was a song for a too long road trip when he’d sent the entire car into seismic shifts from his carseat while the windshield wipers worked madly and Jazz was yelling at him for kicking her seat. The song was for a hospital visit where the cold room and unfamiliar walls was more disturbing than the pain in his broken arm. In the past it had never failed to lull him to sleep.

Somehow he hadn’t heard it in a long time. He didn’t miss it, it was just one of those things you naturally left behind as time passed. He wasn’t a baby anymore and Maddie didn’t need to sing it to get him to shut up for five seconds. He didn’t even remember the funny words she’d made up for it. His eyes drifted closed as he tried to mumble them and somehow dredge them up from deep in his mind. He’d almost completely forgotten it. He wondered where this blob had picked it up.

All the wondering he could do ran away from him quickly. His consciousness spun out like a ball of yarn leading him to sleep. The tune dropped him back into those years of falling asleep with his mom’s cheek next to his and finally his brain stopped thinking and let him drift off into deep dreamless sleep.

***

Jack and Maddie came home in the stillness of the hour between night and morning. It had stopped raining but they were drenched and stuck all over with orange pineneedles and other forest detritus. They were tired and trudged heavily through the door, not wanting to wake anyone up. There were twigs and leaves in Jack’s hair and a spray of thorns caught in the weave of Maddie’s suit. She smiled working it free but there was no real mirth behind it. Just tiredness.

They’d found no ghost in their net. But they’d been so sure a ghost couldn’t escape it, and a hit from Maddie’s new gun, on top of a shock from the Fenton Taser™ without being seriously damaged and power drained. So they’d combed the area again. They’d found not a sign of the ghost. They supposed that they’d never know until the next dogfight if that one had survived or had dissolved into whatever aether the scraps of human consciousness were bound for. 

They dumped their tangled and scraped up gear in a pile. Neither of them said anything. Without a word they left it there and took the stairs. Jack looked at the back of his wife’s neck. He might not be good at reading people but he’d known her long enough. All these ghosts were fascinating, they’d never had more work. But the rest of Amity didn’t exactly agree with their glee. Some nights the sheer amount of ghostly activity was overwhelming. And they were strong enough to be actually capable of real property damage! Who knew what else. The sooner they could stuff these spooks back where they came from the better. But this wasn’t what was bothering Maddy. Jack knew the problem that was puzzling her now was Danny. It was frustrating. Life would be so much easier if people could just say what they were thinking.

If only he could figure out the problem. 

Again, without words, they stopped in front of Danny’s door. Dread was boiling in Maddie’s stomach, there’d been so many nights she’d known he’d snuck out. Some nights he just never came home. Jack’s large arm reached past her to press against the door. He eased it open with both hands, For once he payed special attention to not bump anything thoughtlessly. Danny’s room was dark, the only light inside came from the warm stripes that escaped from the hallway lamp around their legs and the dim stick on stars that littered the ceiling. It was messy, as usual. Leaves of homework were layered over his desk and books lay open all over the floor. Drifts of clothes made sedimentary layers in the corners of the room. Jack couldn’t help his well of fondness at the sight. Danny was a still form on the bed. Silent asleep, as he should be. 

Jack sniffed, was the ectoplasm smell stronger here? He glanced around briefly; bed, desk, floor— then shrugged. It was everywhere in the house. It was their fault really, always mixing work and family life.  

Jack looked down and realized neither of them had pushed one toe over the carpet line into his room. It was just as good as a wall. 

Maddie’s mouth worked as though she was chewing over a mouthful of words that needed to be said, no matter how silently. She finally whispered. “Good night, Danny.”

And then they left as carefully as they had come. 

[applejuicefruit]

I really love your writings so I was thinking, can I request something similar for the ones you wrote where Olivier was reader’s neighbour and was protective over her but this time she’s dating Kylian but no one knows and she is still Olivier neighbour and one day her father stabs her or hurt her and she’s rushed to the hospital so that’s when Kylian and Olivier find out that you all know each other please? Like they really care for you💓 thank you so much

this request was 😩😩😩❤️❤️❤️

kylian mbappe x reader / olivier giroud x reader (platonic)

tw: domestic violence, domestic abuse, blood, a lot of blood, olivier being the father i need in my life

She’s safe with me

Your life had never been easy.

Growing up with just your father after your mother passed away it was something you definitely never expected during your childhood. But here you were, just nineteen, living with your father while you were at your first year of college. You loved it there, studying art and photography, meeting new people every day, having your boyfriend secretly bringing you food and flowers everytime you had a break. Just your friends knew that you and Kylian were dating as you both wanted to keep your relationship private, you always hated the spotlight and Kylian wanted to keep you save from the media as he knew how invasive they could get.

So that’s how you kept it.

Kylian knew that everything about you.

Well, almost everything.

He didn’t know about the fucked up family you lived in. He only knew you didn’t have a good relationship with your father and that’s it. He had no idea of how your father laid his hands on you or how he spoke to you or treated you.

You knew he would be absolutely heartbroken or even mad at you for keeping something like that to him so you chose to not talk about it.

The only person who knew about this situation was your neighbour Olivier. He heard screaming and shouting almost every night, he heard you crying and begging for help and his heart ached everything single moment because he knew he couldn’t do much about it. He confronted you about it but you gently told him that this was about just you and your father so he dropped it, but, of course, he couldn’t help getting worried everytime he heard some strange noises coming from your apartment.

You knew Oli and your boyfriend were teammates but he promised you to not talk about it with anyone, that including Kylian too. Also because he had no idea you and Kylian were dating and you wanted to keep it that way and second of all because it wasn’t his business, as much as he cared for you he knew he couldn’t do much about it and he had to accept it.

One night things escalated pretty quickly.

You were home doing your homework, as you had a test the upcoming week and you wanted to be fully prepared when your father came home pretty mad because things went bad at work.

“Y/n” he called you from the living room with that scary tone and you knew he wasn’t bringing anything good so you simply ignored him.

“Y/n…” he called you again.

“What?” you shouted from the other side of the home.

“I remember telling you to buy me the beers” he said slamming down his hands on the table.

Yup. That’s what he told you that morning. Instead of knowing better that you had classes all morning he asked you to buy him some beers. Of course you didn’t. Your dad wasn’t alcoholic but you knew how scary he was when he got mad and a beer would simply made everything worse.

“I forgot…” you shouted.

You heard his footsteps coming closer and closer to your bedroom and in just a second he opened your door.

“You forgot?” he sarcastically asked.

“Yes dad I forgot…I’m studying for next week…” you tried not to teasing him a lot but you wanted him to hear you.

“I don’t care for what you’re fucking studying! I asked you to do one thing and you didn’t! You’re a disappointment y/n…I thought I raised you better” he smirked at you trying to provoke you but after years and years of replying back you knew it was useless so you didn’t say anything back.

Wrong thing to do. He was so mad that you didn’t say anything back that he threw you one of his leather shoes on your head.

“Dad! What the fuck!” you screamed back getting up from your bed. You knew it was a lost fight but you couldn’t handle the blaming and the hating once again.

“Don’t ever raise your voice to me!” he screamed at you coming to face you. You tried to show no fear but you were trembling.

“Well next time don’t throw your fucking shoes at me!” before you could scream back you fell to the ground as your father pushed you on the floor. His body overpowering you while he grabbed you but your neck almost suppressing your breath.

“Dad…” you breathed out as he left the hold on your neck.

The moment he stood up you ran towards your front door - all you wanted to do was escape that nightmare you were living.

But he was faster and stronger and while you tried to reach the door he reached you first grabbing you buy the hood of your jacket and he threw you once again on the floor, this time hurting you more and more because while falling you sprained your ankle.

“Fuck…” you hissed in pain.

“You are so dead!” he screamed at you while he threw a vase on the floor, letting all of his anger out “thinking you could escape uh? Thinking you could run to your perfect little boyfriend? So fucking pathetic!” he kept screaming. A few glasses hit your face leaving some scratches and blood.

What you and your father didn’t know is that the noise of the vase breaking alerted Olivier who was hearing every single scream you and your father were making.

“Sometimes I wished you were dead!” he shouted back at you and his words hurt you more than his punches. While you were still on the floor, shaking and crying, praying for everything to be over, your father grabbed you by the hair and made your head hit the floor so hard you almost passed out.

“I don’t want to see you ever again…” he said laughing before storming out of the door.

As he left you there all alone while your ankle was hurting and your head was bleeding.

“That’s how I’m gonna die” you thought.

Olivier still heard everything, how your father spoke to you and how you were crying. His heart was hurting, he always cared for you, sometimes he would invite you over for dinner or he would invite you as some of his games. He saw you like the daughter he never had and what hurt him the most is that he couldn’t do anything to help you. He offered you to stay at his place more than once, knowing how afraid you were living with your dad. He offered you his guest bedroom more than once when things got worse. He almost called the police twice but you begged him to not doing it. You begged him because even if it was your father hurting you it was the only family you had left after your mom passed. Olivier tried to persuade you of living with him, or accepting his help, but you didn’t want to feel like a burden for him so most of the times you refused.

This time Olivier couldn’t stand back. He heard your dad saying he wished you were dead and he couldn’t handle all the hate you were receiving so when he heard your father leaving the apartment he made sure to check on you.

“Y/n…it’s me Olivier” he gently knocked on the door. But no response.

“Y/n, can you open the door please?” he asked you in a soft voice. But still no response.

He got a bit worried as you weren’t replying but he knew you were there in the apartment.

“Y/n…I’m coming in” he said before opening the door.

What he didn’t expect to see was you laying half unconscious on the ground while your head was bleeding and your were softly crying.

“Oh my…y/n can you hear me?” he asked gently kneeling next to you. You couldn’t even reply back so you simply shook your head.

“I’m calling an ambulance okay? Hold on please…” he said while picking up the phone and dialling the emergency number.

Help came in just a few minutes and he rode with you to the hospital never leaving your side.

He was worried sick.

He got your phone with you in case someone tried to contact you or something. That’s how, once you were hospitalised, the doctors looked into your phone searching for your emergency list in case something happened to you.

Of course Kylian was the first on your list. And the one the doctors called.

When Kylian heard the doctor saying you were in the hospital and that he was the first number on your emergency list his heart dropped.

Why were you there?

So he stopped everything he was doing and rushed through the streets of Paris trying to make it to you as fast as possible.

Once there he asked for your room number at the reception and once the nurse gave it to him he ran through the long and almost too creepy hospital corridors.

“Olivier?” he asked his teammate when he saw him sitting in the waiting area.

“Kylian…what are you doing here?” he asked a bit confused.

“My girlfriend was brought here like thirty minutes ago…I was her emergency number…the doctors on the phone wouldn’t even wanted to tell me what was going on….” he said.

“Wait…what is your girlfriend name?” Olivier asked as he got his suspicion.

“Y/n…why?” Kylian asked.

“Y/n L/n…” Olivier whispered.

“Yes, how do you know her?” Kylian was beyond confused.

“I brought her here…she’s my neighbour…her dad almost beat her to death Kylian” he confessed as he watched Kylian eyes widening. His heart almost stopped.

“His father did what?” he screamed.

“She has been in this situation for a while…” Olivier confessed as he watched Kylian pacing back and forth.

“What…what are you talking about?” he asked.

“She didn’t want anyone to know…but her father laid his hands on her so many times I’ve lost count…I’ve helped her as I could and honestly I wished I could have done much more, she wouldn’t be in this position…” Olivier said.

“I had no idea” Kylian’s heart broke for you.

“No one knew Kylian…” he stood up gently patting Kylian’s shoulder.

A few hours later the doctor said you were fine and only had a concussion, but overall you were awake and doing good.

Kylian - of course - was the first one to see you.

“Hey baby…” he said sitting next to you on the hospital bed.

“Hi Kyky” you said in a soft voice.

“You scared me so much…” he confessed and you started crying a bit.

“I didn’t want you to worry Kylian…” you said as he hugged you.

“I will always worry for you baby…you’re the love of my life and seeing you like this make me suffer…why didn’t you tell me baby?” he asked you softly.

“I…I don’t know honestly…I’ve felt ashamed…my family was only just a bad and big mistake and I didn’t want you too see me as a mistake too…I just hoped it never got this far…” you cried into his shoulder.

“It’s okay baby…you’re so strong mon amour, I love you so much” he said while stroking your hair.

Olivier came next in your room and talked to you. He said how he wanted you to live with him and he absolutely hated the idea of you going back to your old home.

Olivier took care of you almost like a father and you couldn’t be more grateful.

“Oli can I talk to you for a minute?” Kylian asked him as they both exited your room to let you rest.

“I know you care for her…thank you so much for what you’ve been doing for her…for letting her stay. I asked her to stay but I feel like it’s too early and after she’s going through I don’t want to pressure her…but I see how you care for her, thank you” Kylian confessed to Olivier.

“I do really care for her Kylian, she’s like the daughter I’ve never had…seeing her in so much pain hurts me too…I’m doing everything in my power to help her” Olivier said back.

“I know…I just want you to know that she’s safe with me, she will always be safe with me” Kylian said.

“She better be or you’re dead Kyky de Bondy” Olivier joked as the boys got back into your room just to see you fast asleep.

Yes, your life sucked but you got a bit lucky in having not one, but two guardian angels looking over you.

[merakiui]

LETS GO TMDG AND 11:11 FOR THE FANFIC BINGO ✨✨✨

AAAA YES YES. >:D very yummy fic choices!!!! Thank youuuuu!!! 💖 putting under the cut because it is a little long. orz

(ask game)

For tmdg:

There's no explaining the sheer chokehold tmdg had on me for the entirety of the ten months I spent working on it. It sounds mad, but every waking second was tmdg. When I was listening to music, I thought of songs that would suit tmdg and its vibes. When I was working, I was thinking of Jade and his banter with reader. When I was going to classes and doing coursework, tmdg. It became such a staple in my diet LOL. T_T Jade truly did possess me to write that story because omg. And it started as such a silly idea: Jade impersonates Floyd because you want to date Floyd and Jade wants to date you. I didn't think my silly concept would grow into 48k words....... ;;;; I had only intended for it to be short (under 15k words at most).

I did SO MUCH fact-checking and research for tmdg. I had fun working various moray eel facts into the story. <3 truthfully, I had no idea what mer to make reader. The grouper idea was something I happened upon while searching mutualistic relationships for moray eels and the relationship between the eel and grouper appeared!!! Immediately, I knew I had to add it in. :D the amount of times I ruined my sleep schedule to write more tmdg even though I was exhausted from my studies. orz not the best course of action, but it was worth it to happily type away!!

As for 11:11:

I wrote most of 11:11 while on my breaks at work (not technically instead of homework or housework hehe). A nosy coworker of mine almost caught a glimpse of it while I was writing. I'll never forget the sheer panic I felt because I was writing the scene where Rook murders reader. I lied through my teeth and said it was a research paper. ^^;;;;

Even though it wasn't exactly written as a gift or request, it was the result of a poll!! I wanted to write something scary, but there were too many characters in my mind. Rook won and 11:11 is the result! I think it's very fascinating to explore psychological horror with Rook. He's already terrifying on his own. >_< in case you are curious, these were the ideas for the others from that poll (as you can see, pet play with Jade was still ever-present in my head LOL):

As for fan art~~ it was you!!!!!! o(≧∀≦)o hehe I love it so much. orz orz orz your art is always so amazing and scrumptious. I can't thank you enough for finding inspiration from 11:11 and drawing such a beautiful picture!!! T^T <3 I hope to return the favor someday for all of the wonderful arts you've made!!!! ଘ(੭ˊᵕˋ)੭ ੈ♡‧₊˚

[mdzs-owns-my-ass-i-guess]

Writing attempts

Warning: NSFW!!! There is porn in this, so keep away if you're a minor!!! I even labeled this as mature, so don't say I didn't warn you!!!

@6-022-10-23 that comment you left on this post has been bouncing in my brain like a dvd screensaver and when it hit the corner, i wrote this. Hope you (and everyone else reading) like it!

He's straight-faced and serious, following the lectures with the same diligence as before, eyes icy. His expression betrays nothing at all, concentration written all over his face as he listens to the teacher's words. Unmoving, unbothered.

You know he's anything but. You know that underneath the high collars of his pristine white robes, on his pearly skin, the marks you left on him bloom like red and violet flowers on an expensive canvas. You know he still has that heart-shaped collection of hickies right below his navel that you gave him the other day in the library, when all he could do was gasp and writhe and moan under your tongue as you-

"Wei-xiong, what are you doing?"

Wei Wuxian scrambles to close the notebook he has been writing in. "Your stealth is creepy as hell, Nie-xiong! Make some noise when you walk in, won't you?!"

"Sorry, sorry, I'm used to sneaking around da-ge all the time, you know his senses are super sharp! So I'm like a panther now! Anyways, what were you doing?"

"Um, I was... practicing my calligraphy!"

Nie Huaisang smiles knowingly, a raised eyebrow. "And you're that ashamed of your calligraphy that you quickly shut off your notebook before I could see it? I thought you mastered the four arts already."

Wei Wuxian's cheeks dust red in embarrassment and he gives Huaisang a half-hearted glare. "You're not very good at minding your business, Nie-xiong."

"Of course not! Being nosy is my best attribute!" Nie Huaisang reaches to pick up the notebook, "Now let me see!"

Fortunately, Wei Wuxian is a lot faster and more agile, managing to pick up the offending item and hide it in his robes. Huaisang frowns. "Wei-xiong, you know of my literary proclivities, don't you? What could be so shameful in that little notebook of yours? With all I've read and seen, I don't think I'd be surprised even if it was about slutting teacher Lan out!"

Wei Wuxian makes a disgusted face, but does not surrender the notebook, securing it in his breast pocket. "It's nothing like that! It's just... private!"

Nie Huaisang smiles wider and Wei Wuxian almost fears his friend can see right through his very thin mask. "Oh, I'm sure I can guess how private it is. Anyway, I'll leave you to it then. Lend it to me when you're done, I'm curious to see if you're as good a writer as you are a cultivator!"

He leaves, smiling in that same conspirational way, and Wei Wuxian is almost sure Nie Huaisang knows.

(He does).

---

His lips are forceful and overwhelming, taking your breath away as he kisses you, passionate and endless. You know you could push him off, you could fight him and break free - but you don't want to, you don't want anything but to feel him closer, on you, around you, inside you. You can feel how hard he is, heavy and wanting against your naked inner thigh, and you wonder how long he's going to keep torturing you, dragging his soft, delicate hand over the length of your-

"Oi, Wei Wuxian!" Jiang Cheng calls out, angry and half asleep, from his bed, "Turn that damn candle off already, do you want to get in trouble for breaking curfew again?"

Oh yes, I do - no, wait, what?!

"I can't write in the dark, so bear with it!"

"What the hell are you even writing anyway? Didn't you say you finished the homework already?"

"I did! I'm just... writing... rules!"

"The hell you are!" Jiang Cheng throws the blanket off himself as he stands up. "If you don't put out that damn candle, I'll send your notebook right out the fucking window! Some of us actually fucking work in school and are tired at the end of the day!"

Wei Wuxian quickly hides his notebook in his other books and waves the candle's flame away. "If you were so tired, you'd sleep anywhere, light or not!"

---

He's so impossibly hot, you can't even look at him without blushing, shameless as you may otherwise be. He's all muscle and sharp edges, an elegant god - a sex god. Just looking at him makes arousal pool low in your belly, sending shivers down your spine, all the way down into your groin.

He looks at you so heatedly, desperate for it, for release, for you - and just that knowledge alone has you reaching up to touch him. But he's pinning your wrists above your head with one of his arms before you can do it, and you gasp at the feeling of his strength holding you down. You want him to hold you like that forever, to take you however he wants, to manhandle you and use you and fuck you so hard you pass out. Maybe even pass away. What a legendary way to go that would be, fucked to death by the Second Jade of Lan!

You're growing impatient now, watching him undress with only one hand, so incredibly skilled but way too slow for your tastes. As you eyes follow his movements, you're suddenly acutely aware of the fact that those nimble fingers have already been inside you, stretching you out, trying to prepare you for him - but he's so impossibly big you know you won't be able to feel anything but the imprint of his cock inside you for days after he's done with you. You can't wait for that, for him, for everything.

And suddenly you're pulled out of your thoughts when you feel him so very slowly slide the head of his cock in, his eyes half-lidded in concentration and the self-control it must take for him not to just thrust ahead in your hole and break you. But you want him to do that, to make you his and only his, to ruin you for everyone else-

"Wei Ying."

He raises his head to briefly meet his husband's eyes before returning to his book. "Oh, hey, Lan Zhan!"

"Are you reading another book you stole from the juniors?"

"Ah, no, I'm reading porn I wrote of us when we were studying together!"

The way he says it, so simple and casual, almost has Lan Zhan move on to the next topic - but his brain catches up to him a few short seconds later, and his eyes widen.

"What - what did you say?"

"Hanguang-Jun, your ears are working very well, don't make me say it again. I don't want any more interruptions, I'm reading!"

But Lan Zhan can't get over this. Wei Ying has written... erotica of them. Together. When they were young. Original erotica.

He's snatching the book before Wei Ying knows it - and his ears are red and burning like they've been set on fire.

"Lan Er-Gege! Hurry up a bit, won't you? I know I said I was a virgin, but I'm going to fall asleep if you don't - AH!"

You were right - he's so big he knocks the breath out of you and you're delirious with the feeling, the burn of it, the fullness of it, and suddenly he's all you'll ever be thinking of when you'll masturbate for the rest of your life.

"Not going to fall asleep anymore, are you?"

He's smug when he says it, but you can tell he's affected too, his words punctuated with sharp breaths and quiet little noises of pleasure as he thrusts inside you. If you could think, you'd say something back to him, but you can't and now he's decided to move faster, so all you can do is wrap your arms around him and try to ground yourself.

He hisses when your nails dig into his back and the sound of it has your insides twist in satisfaction. You do it again and he glares for a moment before you feel his teeth into your neck-

"It's good, right?" Wei Ying says, a sultry little smile on his lips. "My teenage fantasies of you were spot on, weren't they?"

Lan Zhan wants... a lot. He wants to rip his clothes off and pounce Wei Ying right now and make him read that story aloud while he's being pounded into unconsciousness.

But he has a question first.

"How did you manage to write this here?"

"At night before bedtime, or just when I was done with schoolwork and the likes." He licks his lips and Lan Zhan knows he's going to lose his mind soon. "But most of it... I wrote it when I was in the library with you."

(Nobody sees them leave the jingshi for three days after that, but nobody has the courage to pay them a visit about it either.)

[deadboyfriendd]

hello, i hope you are well and that the holidays are treating you gently! in response to an ask i sent in earlier and you talked about cochise and your inspo being blood meridian:

firstly apologies for the length of this reply! OMG!!! wow thank you so much for this incredibly thoughtful answer and yes ofc i would love to talk to you about writing or anything else anytime!! i haven't read blood meridian but i've heard lots of good things about it, i just tend to get squeemish at graphic violence but i'm willing to give it a go to see how the original work, as well as your derivative (i mean that as a compliment) work handle violence and keep it from being simple shock value and mean something in your respective stories. i also haven't read cochise but something tells me i should do my homework. in any case, excited to analyse violence! you mentioned that stone gothic helped you establish the kind of narratives you're interested in and i'm excited to see how you develop and build on the tones and structures you excelled in in that fic!

it's also interesting that you're designing a reader character who sounds quite different from ones you wrote before, naive and cloudy doesn't sound the same as one who realises they just have to keep going on, and that's honestly really brave of you! stone gothic reader sounds similar but hallmark and the 50 first dates girl sound more in line with another sort of fmc. lots of writers tend to write a specific sort of character and it's not necessarily a bad thing, why fix something that ain't broke/write what you know, etc etc, but i am excited to see how you face that challenge on!

I also like the idea that both of them bring some sort of change out to each other. i really really love the line you brought up, "i will not know gentleness in the way i love you". it's very beautiful, i went and re read the letters until i found it and it touched me in a new way. firstly, thank you for talking about your inspirations, that's always great to hear from any artist and it's amazing how much art inspires other art and takes themes and ideas and reshapes them for new stories and purposes! that line is so good and i deeply love the concept of love as softening, of melting, of turning someone who has seen a lot and reminds them of the gentleness that still exists in the world. but the inverse of that that you're planning, of a reader who becomes stronger, more practical, a little more aware of what's going around her, is also a new and exciting thing to think about love! a lot of people, me included, think about love the first way! one of the first qualities i'd want any partner of mine to have is gentle, kind, soft, but the idea that love can also be expressed in making you "harder", stronger, more smarter, worldly, just, i guess more capable? is interesting! its especially interesting because i think it relates somewhat to how a lot of first generation immigrants i think conceptualise love, including my parents, which funnily enough, in certain aspects i show you can explain the western frontier (it's not a one to one match. but. certain aspects, especially since many cowboys were people of colour.). for my mom, for eg, loving my dad was largely an endeavor of mutual success in a new country. their love was made of shoveling snow and breaking ice and living with people they didn't really understand and a lot of that meant becoming smarter and quicker on their feet, and sure they're gentle and nice, but there's also a lot of bonding that happens when you're both working and moving together in a world that's out to get you, and that's an interesting way to make the romance actively part of her character growth, and imbues it with a sense of theme instead of another plot point for the sake of it.

as for the garrison mentality, lmaoooo i do sort of love when nature is seen as a great terrifying unknowable thing and omg!! doc hollidays' last words being "well, i'll be damned" as he went onto the gentle goodnight when he he was sure he'd die a violent death is both ironic and i think, idk if you mean to make it as one, but a very juicy character trait to deal with in a romance. someone who is very sure that they will perish to the forces of destiny and feel a sense of inevitable destiny about it bc of the things they've seen, and instead be actively surprised by the gentleness of their end or the overall tenderness that still exists in the world, is all very delicious, and a complex i absolutely adore. the world can be cruel and evil and chaotic but it can be just as tender and good and soft if we really look for it, especially if we see it in the faces of the people we love! i am also very curious to see if there will be some pedestal-putting of reader at the hands of steve as you mentioned that she is running away from something that steve hasn't really considered a dark past of her own....wondering how he might react when he finds out this person he saw no violence in may have some blood in their path at all and the kind of toll that it could take....all in all incredibly excited to see whatever you're cooking with and it's obvious that there's some real heat in your kitchen!

my apologies for the essay in your askbox, i just found your answer to my original director's cut question so interesting and it's always fun connecting with people and asking them to discuss their art! also, i talked a bit about things in your answer that interested me and how i thought they'd play out, i hope it goes without saying that whatever you decide to do in your story is the right thing to do, especially on a free platform, and any speculation on my part is just excitement and curiosity of a project that sounds interesting and has a very clear passion behind it, which is always something to admire! death of the author and all that is fine, but i believe toni morrison more when she says reading is an act done by writers and readers together! again, hope you're doing good, and excited for bisbee, friend! much love <3 :) !!!

Hi! Sorry I'm just now getting back!

I will say Blood Meridian is VERY graphic and very sudden with the violent onslaught of violent events. If you are squeamish I would avoid reading it to be completely honest, for the sake of readability, historical accuracy, and the general appeal to audience that my readers are, I'm not going to write in several events even remotely adjacent to Blood Meridian in Bisbee. The violence that I do write in is going to be more easily palatable and necessary for character development. Stone Gothic really helped me develop that melodramatic tone and how I can write in a love story with debilitating hurdles. I ended up falling in love with this form of writing and have written it in several different fics: SITG, The bisbee and Cochise Universes, and a lot of my WIPs. I think Bisbee's reader's downfall is ultimately naive, yet is using that personal to ultimately mask the fact that she is painfully self aware. It has been really helpful to me so far to pull pieces from my other characters- who ultimately contain pieces of me- and stitch them together to create a different worldview.

I think a really big part of it so far is that writing has, like a lot of other people on this platform, held some sort of catharsis for me. It is a way for me to write out and process things and understand that, even though I'm hard to love, I'm not impossible to love. The Stains in the Granite reader really helped me through that. The house had such a big part in the actual fic because the street was based off of my childhood home and the house I grew up in! I actually lived down the street from a Dr. Cullen who was a dentist and had yellow show-quality labs! The SITG reader helped me find that part of myself that I knew was mean and helped me process that, even though I am not an internet personality with a shining smile like Disney on ice, that I am a real person that is worthy of being loved. My Nellie reader was how I was learning to process major grief as an adult and trying to navigate those feelings for the first time in my life. It helped me metabolize and marinate in those feelings of losing a loved one, losing a past version of yourself, or losing grip on who you thought you were. Nellie is gritty and forward like I am. She is learning how to heal alongside Eddie. The same is going to go for this Elsie character, my reader from Bisbee. She is loud and obnoxious, she pushes steve a little too far, she is naive, and she is ballsy. She is also carrying the baggage of a past life and a past lover.

I am a firm believer that you are a culmination of everyone you have ever met, and the boys in my fics are merely catalysts for change within my readers. I still listen to Valentines Sux by the frights every valentines day because my ex-best-friend and I did it once and drove around town in heart shaped sunglasses and ate shitty chinese food because we thought we were unloveable but at least we had each other. I wear turqoise and paint cactus landscapes because my grammy fell in love with the desert and let us love it, too. I got into the habit of documenting and photographing even the most mundane things in my life to accomodate my best friend who lives across the country. My readers are shining examples of the way we carry pieces on everyone we have ever met like stones in a suitcase.

I can also relate to conceptualizing love through stories of immigration. My grandfather was a Finnish immigrant who joined the US air force, got stationed at the Clark military base in the Philippines, and then met my grandmother! I didn't know my grandfather very well as he died when I was so young, but seeing how that love manifested itself into met needs is so much different than the way Mr. Flea and I love each other or the way my mom and dad love each other. My grandmother is a very cold person, however, she shows love by means of met necessities. She will make sure you are clothed and fed, make sure you are still in school, make sure you are disciplined and poised and polite- but she will not tell you she loves you. My mother was raised coldly this way, and my dad was a child of divorce, born to teen parents in the 70s. My parents conceptualization of love was also not outward, and oftentimes expressed as frustration or overbearing guardianship, yet we were fed and we were clothed and we figured out how to not kill each other together. However, Mr. Flea was also a child of divorce born to teen parents, though his mom his very outwardly affectionate and he is, too. It's really interesting to me to see how our environments really affected the way we love each other and how we had to learn to heal and navigate each other in the six years we've been together, and the four we've lived together. I was 16 when I met him, after all! One of my favorite examples of this is my grammy, on my paternal side. She was one of many children, her father died of complications of Polio later in his life- when she was 13. She doesn't remember him much, but she did know that he was a talented and published author. He wrote westerns! We were able to get our hands on a collection of recounting he had from the family. My grammy and I read through every page and laughed and cried together 1.) because our diction and humor has been so overtly passed down through generations like stamps and 2.) you could tell that he loved his family by the way he wrote, not by the way he showed it.

[dragooned-speaks]

I just skipped my homework writing this. I gotta speedrun it soon. Anyways, enjoy the last post in what will probably be a while until I finish that fanart of Grian. Okay, tws.

TWs: Blind character, orphans, not much else. Pretty fluffy. Oh! Inprisoning (probably not hwat you imagine.

Also, this is my first fluff fic in a while, as I haven’t written, and it’s editted, but probably still a little cliche and cringy. Idk lol. Also, this is my OCs, as this is just an editted version of a story I wrote a while ago.

Cloud Gazer

Ophelia sighed as she looked into the sky she knew was there. Only a couple days ago, she thought the world was bright, full of joy and equality. How naive she was. Nowadays, she knew better.

“Hey.”

She turned toward the area the voice had come from.

“It’s me. You know. Violet.”

Ophelia could clearly remember Violet. Her violet eyes, the bright smile that believed everyone was good deep down, the black hair that curled more near the bottom. Even the time she attempted to dye part of her hair purple, which succeeded, leaving her with a bright purple streak in her hair for months until the dye faded.

“I remember.”

“Are you… alright?”

She could practically hear the concern dripping into Violet’s voice like an undried piece of art. She laughed, but it was dry, without humor.

“Well, this could be better. You know? I’m only going to be blind for who knows how long!”

Violet’s wince could have been heard for miles around, pained by her friend’s outburst.

“Sooo… Are you okay?”

Ophelia closed her eyes- not like it did anything. Was she okay? She remembered the shock and betrayal, stabbing and eroding her brain how it saw fit. The light, glaring into her eyes until all she could see was a painfully bright white.

“Well, I’ve been better.”

Violet sighed out of relief.

“Do you want some alone time?”

“Nah, it’s nice having you with me.”

“You do remember it is only temporary- right?”

Ophelia was quiet. Finally, she sighed.

“Well, I’m finally used to this now. So, if it does turn out to be permanent, at least I’ll be used to it.

“Hey, at least we’ll have each other. You know? Like we always do.”

Violet winced at that. Ophelia, from knowing her for so long, all these years, immediately knew something was wrong.

“What’s wrong?” Ophelia asked, curious and concerned for her best friend’s welfare. “Is something happening?”

Violet wished she could quite literally disappear. Why would Ophelia ask this now, when there was finally a break in the dark clouds obscuring her friend’s light?

“Well, I’m getting… adopted.”

Ophelia blinked, confused. “That’s amazing, V, and I’m really happy for you, but why is that making you upset?”

The tables seemed to have turned, Ophelia congratulating and assuring that, no, she was genuinely happy for her friend.

“But-” Violet’s voice cracked in her guilt. “T-then- I won’t be there for you.”

The truth seemed to dawn on poor Ophelia like a bucket of ice cold water.

No more whispered late night secrets? No more comforting words when she felt castigated, punished by all around her?

Why, she cried out, why would Violet, after all she’s been through, be taken away from her to who knows where? She forced a smile, but it wasn’t nearly as pretty as before.

“It’s fine, as long as you're happy.”

Before Ophelia could comprehend what happened, a warm pair of unseen arms wrapped around her, making her freeze in surprise.

“Opal, it’s fine to share your emotions, you know. They're not a burden. They’re meant to be shared, not held by one person. I’ll be here for you.”

Finally, Ophelia’s dam cracked. She cried into Violet’s shoulder, and Violet tugged her closer until they were in a proper hug.

Ophelia hugged Violet back, unwilling to say the thought lingering in both their minds: but not forever.

“Good news, girls!”

Ophelia and Violet nearly jumped out of their skin when the director of the orphanage, Dr. Clara Solace’s voice interrupted the peaceful environment.

“While you two were off being cute, you guys got adopted!”

“I know,” Violet sighed. “A nice, happy couple wants me for a daughter.”

“Yes,” said Dr. Clara. “However, the couple wants two daughters. And I told them I knew just the cute duo they would want.”

“Who?” Ophelia asked.

“Why, you two!” Clara grinned.

Almost comically, the two heads turned until two eyes met- one pair a striking violet the most dumb witted boys in the orphanage thought delicate, and another a cloudy shade of pale, unseeing blue.

“Do you know what this means, V?” Ophelia grinned- in what she thought was V’s general direction.

“I think I do, Opal,” Violet grinned right back, not yet ready to spoil the moment by telling Ophelia she was facing the wrong direction.

“I can stick you in a blanket fort dungeon!”

“I can still smack your head with a pillow!”

They stared right back at each other at the ridiculous answers.

“You want to smack my head with a pillow?” Violet questioned.

“You want to trap me in a blanket fort dungeon?” Ophelia asked right back.

Before the girls started what looked like another play fight, Dr. Clara hurried, “Girls, why don’t you go to your rooms? You should be ready for your new home by tomorrow evening!”

The girls raced up, and in that small orphanage room, many people heard squeals of laughter and the dull thud of pillows hitting what sounded like another human. The next day, however, two happy, smiling girls left the room looking like they had no clue that there was a broken blanket fort and a pillow on the floor.

Maybe the world was bright, and it just needed to be shown it could be. All that’s known is at that moment, light was shed upon the living and the dead, all happy and equal in their celebrations.

[gimmethosedaddymilkers]

heyo, anon who reported the missing fic here—just wanted to tell you i changed my community label settings and i can see it again!! PSA, though, i wasn’t able to do it in the ios app, i had to hop on my PC and change the settings through my web browser. just throwing that out there for anyone else who had trouble figuring it out like i did!!

Hmmmmmm okok, that is weird that you couldn't do it on the app but i'm glad you found it!!!

I really enjoyed doing that one, but I suppose even though ive written smut before Tumblr decided that one was a lil much....

To be fair Arthur's a lil much

I could take him (not in a fight)

Anyway, thank you for keeping me updated Anon!!!

For anyone who was looking for the Arthur Morgan Thigh Worship I wrote titled "A Long Night" you need to change your community guide lines to allow for mature content!!!

It should pop up then! And I hope all of you enjoy it!!

While i'm here I might as well update y'all!

I promise i am still working on everyone's requests! I have them screenshotted and i just have to finish writing them, but things have been slow at the moment. I just got back from spring break for college and there's a lot of homework and art to catch up on

The moment I have free time though I'm working on writing, so don't worry!

It might be a little bit but they will all get posted, I'm not going anywhere so don't worry!!

Thank you all so much for your patience!!!

[galactic-pirates]

So I might not have anything else ready to post for prompt month. I have some pieces in progress but it’s looking doubtful that I will finish them. After the “Ezekiel as Ezra” drawing I took a break from the art and shifted gears to revision analysis of this novel draft I wrote a couple of years ago.

Ten days later and I have tossed most of it, have a rewritten outline, and I’m ready to write the second draft.

Except I’m not.

For two days now I have procrastinated and avoided and just not started with the writing. This is something of a pattern with me. If I can do things (and often I can’t do anything) but when I can do things, I can do pre-tasks quite well. I can make lists, I can plan, I can be analytical and do prep work. The rewriting of the outline involved a lot of creative thought too, as once I knew what didn’t work I had to come up with something that I hoped would this time. So it’s not like I can’t totally do creative stuff.

I just can’t word.

It somehow makes it real I think which hits me in the subconscious where I am afraid all the time. I am afraid that it will suck again. I am afraid that I will never be able to fix it to my satisfaction. I am afraid that this will all just be wasted effort. I am also afraid that I will be able to write it ok, that I will make it ‘done’ at some point because I am afraid of what comes next and I’m not sure I’m ready for that. So yeah equally afraid of failure and success. Probably overwhelmed too for good measure with all the things I am trying to remember about how to write it better this time (technique wise, not just the content points).

I’m not just like this with words, I am like this with everything. Prep work is fine but the actual thing? My mind runs a million miles in the other direction. Like I want to get better at art but I have some fairly comfortable bad habits and it’s easier to just roll with that, rather than actually tackle the hard work and practice to really improve. I don’t have to face how crap I am without the crutches I lean on. Plus if I don’t ever seriously knuckle down and try, then I don’t have to find out whether it’s impossible for me to get to the skill level I would like.

My whole life is like this. The second anything gets real, or feels important, or has consequences, I start to run. I was good at school until the actual qualification years came about. Then I stopped doing my homework when it was set, and started scrambling to do it the night before. I stopped putting in extra effort and started doing the bare minimum. My classmates thought it was funny and strange as if they shifted it was the other way, to doing better now it mattered.

So I don’t entirely know what to do with myself. I am trying to be gentle and listen to my feelings rather than push and beat myself up, and send myself into a depression spiral (like normal). As that isn’t a behaviour pattern which serves me. It’s one I have practiced and reinforced for over two decades though so hard habit to break. Plus, intellectually knowing something and actually feeling it are two different things. I am annoyed with myself and I wish I could do better, I wish I could be the person I want and not self-sabotage like this. I hate it.

[theaudacitytowrite]

Private Tutoring

Loki x Fem!Reader

A/N: Fluffy Request no.2 by the lovely @lucywrites02 :

"How about Loki helping Peter with homework? And the reader sees it and has heart eyes because Loki is so soft uwu"

I got a bit carried away at some point and it's maybe a bit more Loki and Peter than I anticipated. Hope you like it nonetheless :)

Also, I wrote a part in italian... and my skills might be a lil rusty... so sorry to any one who does speak it as their first language. I included an english translation at the end:)

Summary: Loki helps Peter with studying, not aware that the Reader is watching them.

Word count: 1.596

Y/N was casually strolling through the corridors of the tower, her only mission was to acquire a snack. She walked by the living room area when a groan made her stop in her tracks. She peeked around the door frame and saw Peter sitting on the ground at the coffee table.

His head had collapsed on a pile of loose papers and books. Scattered around him laid markers and crumpled up notes. It was finals week and Peter had been stressing over it for months now, annoying practically everyone on the team.

He was constantly repeating the same facts such as the process of kinesines walking on microturbule filaments to transport important components throughout the cell. He even recited during missions, earning groans from the whole team. Some went even that far and turned off their intercom.

Y/N didn’t mind it though, she often times recognized certain terms and processes Peter was describing. She felt proud when she could help him once in a while, when he got stuck at some point. Finally she could apply some of the stuff she had learned at school. Even if it was just to help Peter with studying.

Peter wasn’t too worried about science and sport, but he was a nervous wreck when he had thought of his exams about languages and art. Y/N stifled a laugh, glad she had graduated years ago and hadn’t to endure this kind of torture anymore, when she heard another voice in the room.

“It’s not that hard. You just have to keep the basics in mind. Is it a male or a female person you are talking about? The rest pretty much explains itself.” Loki shrugged helpless.

“Says the one, who has the ability of Allspeak.” Peter muttered under his breath.

“I hate to break it to you, but Allspeak just allows me to be heard by any being in their native language, and in return I can understand them.” Loki pressed his lips into a thin line. He knew that Peter didn’t mean to be so snary, he was just under a lot of pressure at the moment.

“And how do you know about all of these grammar rules and stuff then?” Peter sighed with a frown.

“I became fond of the language and the culture. Also their desserts taste like heaven. So naturally I wanted to know more about it. But I have to admit, I learned Latin when I was younger, so I had a slight advantage in contrast to you. But you can do this too, spiderling. You just need the right motivation. Let’s begin with that: what exactly don’t you understand?”

“I dunno.” Peter exclaimed exasperated, throwing his hands up in defeat.

“Hey, hey. Don’t worry. I’m here to help. Please don’t get upset” Loki sat beside him with crossed legs, patting Peters back reassuringly.

“I just can’t wrap my head around it, Mr. Loki. I’ll never understand it. I’m just too dumb.” Peter rubbed his hands of his face.

“Don’t say something like that.” Loki scolded, but softened his expression quickly again.

“I think I’m just a hopeless case. Choosing italian as an extracurricular activity was the stupidest idea I ever had. I could’ve joined the chess club or something. Now MJ will think I am stupid when I fail our oral final.”

“Oh, so all of this is about a girl?” Loki raised an eyebrow.

“Maybe..?” Peter shuffled nervously, he hadn’t intended to say the last part out loud.

“Well, have you considered that you could woo your precious girlfriend with an extensive knowledge of another language?”

“Honestly, that wasn’t my plan. I just wanted to spend more time with her and study and learn another skill together. You really think I could impress her with italian?"

“Picture this: You and MJ together on a holiday in Italy. After a beautiful day of sight seeing, you go out for dinner and you can order in perfect italian, ordering a desert you two share. That surely would impress a young lady, wouldn't it?”

“Even though this is sounding great and really romantic coming from you,” Peter quickly back paddled, when he realised what he had said, “no offense.”

“None taken… yet.” Loki smirked, pleasantly surprised by Peters wit.

“I just don’t think italian can have that big of an effect on someone, can it?”

“You underestimate the bewitching sound of this language, my young friend. You can practically say anything to someone and it would sound like a confession of undying love. Provided, they don’t speak it. For example: Y/N é com-”

“Y/N?” Peter interrupted him with a surprised look. Y/N pricked up her ears when her name was mentioned that casually. Her interest in this conversation peaked.

“Just go with it.” Loki ordered.

“Y/N è come il sole. Calda e luminosa. I suoi occhi brilla luminosi, mettendo in risalta l'essenza della sua bellezza.

Quando la guardi lei illumina il tuo stesso animo. Lava via tutte le tue preoccupazioni e paure. Senza la sua presenza sarei sicuramente morto.

Il sua tocca mi accarezza con la potenza di mille soli, rendendolo a volte quasi insopportabile. Eppure lo bramo con tutto me stesso.”

“Woow… that did sound really good. Did you insult her?” Peter snickered.

“Something along the lines.” Loki shrugged with a bashful smile. He still hadn't noticed her standing in the doorway. Else he could’ve seen Y/N standing there, swooning over the way his words had spilled over his lips skillfully. She had never heard anything that beautiful before, not caring if Loki really did say something mean. He probably was just teasing about one of her quirks like he always was.

“I’ll give you this. It’s sounds pretty nice.” Peter reasoned.

“And I assure you, MJ will swoon over you when you court her with these sweet nothings whispered into her ear.” Loki daydreamed, a soft smile on his lips as if he had someone special on his mind.

“That almost sounds like you have thought of doing something like that.” Peter teased. Lokis smile fell instantly and he glared at him for a moment. Peter quickly tried to distract Loki from his thoughtless comment, “Ok, let’s try this again then.”

“From the top.” Loki let the previous comment slide gratefully.

Y/N chuckled at the exchange she had witnessed. Seeing Loki act so soft and kind with Peter made her stomach flutter. A warm feeling was washing over her and she couldn’t help the stupid smile on her face. She felt proud of Loki, that he had allowed to lower his guards slowly but surely. She couldn’t wait until the whole team could see who Loki really was.

The rumbling of her stomach reminded her of her actual mission, the flutter not helping her hunger in any way. She looked back at the duo who went into a huddle over a book again and smiled, before she reluctantly continued her walk to the kitchen. She could’ve watched those two for hours.

When she returned after a while, full and satisfied, she could hear Peter excitedly translate vocabularies Loki queried.

“Just?” Loki inquired the last vocabulary but Peter suddenly began to stutter.

“Was it something with r?” he rubbed his neck uncertain.

“Focus, Peter. You got this. Think of another word for ‘just’.” Loki advised. You could almost hear Peters brainrattle during the struggle to find the right word.

“Just…. only…? Hmm.. no. Solely…. solamente!” he exclaimed excitedly, jumping up and down while pointing at Loki who sat on a couch.

“Yes!” Loki jumped up as well, pumping his fist into the air, “Well done, spiderling!”

“Thank you Mr. Loki!” Peter jumped around his neck for a brief hug, “Now I feel ready for my exam on friday.”

“You’re welcome. And good luck with your exam!” Loki beamed, as he watched Peter gather all his books and went to leave the room. When Loki turned around to sit back on the couch, a surprised huff escaped his lips.

“Oh, Y/N. I didn’t see you there. How long have you been standing there? How much did you hear?” he scolded himself internally of how shaky those words had come out.

“Not that long...” she grinned at him cheekily as she strolled towards him, “It was adorable to see you two. You really have a way with kids.”

“I’m just happy when I can help.” Loki tried to brush off her compliment. Shit, was his face getting warm?

“What did you say about me earlier?” she suddenly asked. So she must have heard a lot...

“I suppose you have to learn italian to find out.” he joked, scrunching up his nose.

“Rude...” she giggled, poking him into his stomach. He caught her hand in his before she could retreat.

“I mean… you could learn if from one of the best.” he offered cockily, his confidence returning in a flash.

“That sounds tempting.” she couldn’t help to bite her lip. Lokis hand was still holding hers tightly, their eyes locked. She could feel a pleasant coldness creeping up her wrist, suddenly being hyper aware of their lack of distance.

“When do we start?” she barely answered over a whisper.

~

English translation:

Y/N is like the sun. Warm and bright. Her eyes shine brightly, highlighting the essence of her beauty.

When you look at her she illuminates your own soul. She washes away all of your worries and fears. Without her presence I would surely die.

Her touch caresses me with the might of a thousands suns, making it almost unbearable at times. Yet I crave for it with my whole being.

~

Taglist: @funsized-mimi

Let me know if you wanna get added.

[angelicamerlinbarnes]

I just want Severus being a protective dad to Harry. Like,

(or, some conversations i think should happen.)

Year One

Severus: It’s not me, Harry.

Harry: But Dad, you like magical shiny things -

Severus: Harry. Go bother Professor Quirrell.

One book later…

Severus, storming through the castle on a rampage: WHO THE FUCK HIRED THAT TURBAN BITCH WHO TRIED TO KILL MY SON?!

Year Two

Harry: They’re going after Muggleborns. Like Mom and Hermione.

Severus: *pen snaps in his hand under desk* Hm. I’ll take care of it, Harry.

In Mcgonogall’s office later with her and Dumbledore…

Severus: My son is coming home with me whether you like it or not. And I’m inviting every other student too.

Dumbledore: We have everything under control.

Mcgonogall: Severus, I hate to break this to you, but four thousand students are not just going to follow you home.

Severus: *laser eyes ignite* They will if I offer them free A’s and no homework. And I think you’re forgetting that my son is the Chosen One, Minerva.

Mcgonogall: Bitch if you think I won’t slap you -

Dumbledore: *snores loudly*

The rest of the book later…

Severus: You are never allowed to speak Parseltongue again.

Harry: Then how will we talk when you’re in your Animagus form?

Severus: *mocking Harry’s voice* Then how will we talk when you’re in your Animagus form? We won’t, you idiot! I only do that for incredibly dangerous missions or to get some goddamn alone time!

Harry:

Harry:

Harry:

Harry: *starts to tear up*

Severus: Oh no. Oh no no no. Harry, no, don’t cry, not the crying, I didn’t mean, fuck, love, no, I, Harry -

Year Three

Harry: Dad, um… Professor Lupin invited me for tea.

Severus, without looking up from drawing smiley faces all over graded tests: Yes, yes. Go see him. Don’t be late. And tell him a good strong “fuck you” from me.

Half a book later…

Severus: I can’t believe you laughed at that paper’s comment on my nose.

Harry: Dad -

Severus: I did not marry James Potter and Lily Evans so our son could make fun of me. I have not dragged myself through thirteen years of your incessant crying and misplaced sarcasm to have you laugh at my nose. I could have killed myself Harry. You could have grown up with Petunia.

Harry: Dad, I’m sorry -

Severus, huffing and dropping down in his chair and turning his back on Harry: My only son. A traitor!

Harry: *groans*

The other half of the book later…

Severus: SIRIUS. THIS IS WHY YOU LET ME COME UP WITH THE PLANS.

Sirius: Snape -

Severus: SHUT UP YOU FOUL-BREATHED HEATHEN. COULD YOU NOT HAVE HAD THE COMMON DECENCY TO AT LEAST CLUE REMUS IN ON YOUR LITTLE PLAN?

Remus, stepping in front of Sirius: Now, Severus -

Severus, angrily pointing at them: NO! NO. HE’S YOUR HUSBAND, THAT MAKES YOU COMPLICIT. WHAT THE FUCK WERE YOU THINKING?

Hermione: Uh, guys? Full moon?

Remus and Sirius: Shit.

Severus, already rolling up his sleeves and tugging his idiot son and said idiot son’s idiot friends out of the Shack: Come meet James, she said. It’ll be fun, she said. They’re not that bad, she said…

Year Four

Severus: No.

Harry: I didn’t put my name in there, believe me, but Dumbledore says -

Severus: Fuck Dumbledore. I’m your father and I said no.

Harry: Dumbledore says there’s wards -

Severus: No.

Harry: But -

Severus: No.

Harry: Dad -

Severus: No.

Most of a book later in Severus’ office…

Harry, curled against Severus’ robes: Dad, he just… and Cedric… he’s back… it’s all my fault - *bursts into tears*

Severus: *kisses the top of Harry’s head* Nonsense. I’ll protect you, love. You’re gonna be just fine. And Voldy dearest can just fuck right off if he thinks he can get to the son of James Potter and Severus Snape and Lily fucking Evans -

Harry: *laughs wetly and wipes his eyes and nose on Severus’ robes*

Severus: *withholds disownment*

Rest of the book later in Dumbledore’s office…

Dumbledore: *sighs* Severus -

Severus: *whirls around and points angrily* NO. I DON’T WANNA HEAR IT ALBUS. DO YOU KNOW HOW MANY FUCKING TIMES MY SON HAS NARROWLY AVOIDED DEATH IN YOUR SCHOOL? I WANT MORE SECURITY PROTOCOLS AND I WANT THEM NOW.

Dumbledore: *face scrunches up like a lemon* You want me to… what, Harry-proof the school?

Severus: *crosses arms over chest* Yes.

Dumbledore: *sighs* Severus -

Year Five

Severus: She did what.

Harry: *swallows nervously* Um. Nothing, Dad, just a blood quill -

Severus: A FUCKING WHAT NOW?!

Five minutes later…

Hermione: Harry? Why is your father cussing out Professor Umbridge and hexing her luggage when she’s not looking in the courtyard?

Ron: Yeah, and why’d I see him pay Fred and George like five hundred galleons in the hallway back there?

Harry, watching his father literally throw Umbridge down the steps while still shouting curse words in languages Harry didn’t even know existed: *facepalms*

Most of a book later…

Harry, sobbing and limping towards Severus: Dad… Dad, she killed… Dad, Sirius… *sobs brittlely*

Severus: *kisses the top of Harry’s head and pushes him gently into Remus’ shaking arms* Nonsense, love. Now, where’s the stupid veil?

Remus: *points trembling finger*

Severus: *nods sharply*

Severus: *returns ten minutes later dragging a soaking wet and violently shaking but otherwise fine Sirius Potter Lupin behind him* Found him.

Remus: *immediately pulls Sirius into the filthiest kiss of his life*

Severus: *wrinkles his nose* You’re welcome.

Harry: *laughs wetly and buries his face in Severus’ robes* Thank you thank you thank you thank you thank you -

Severus: *awkwardly pats head* Um. Sure.

Unseen epilogue we all wanted…

Severus: I now pronounce you Dumb and Dumber.

Harry: *nudges Severus* Dad.

Severus: *huffs* Husband and husband, whatever.

Sirius: *grins devilishly and dips Remus back in a kiss*

Harry: *claps enthusiastically*

Severus: *gags to hide his face as he wipes away a tear*

At the reception…

Harry: *puts a flowercrown of lilies on Severus’ head*

Severus: I’m disowning you. You’re no longer my son. Enjoy homelessness, bitch -

Harry: Mum and Dad would like it.

Severus, now bright red and squeaky: Ah. Well. Fuck you.

Harry: *leans his head on Severus’ shoulder* I love you, Dad.

Severus, grumbling: You suck, kid.

Year Six

Severus: Give me your wand.

Harry: Dad -

Severus: Give me your wand.

Harry: Dad, Draco deserved it -

Severus: *shoots up and leans over the desk* Harry James Potter Evans Snape. No one deserves what you just did. What you just did was moronic, stupid, and above all, cruel. I know you’ve heard the stories about your idiot father and you know better than that, Harry. You are better than that. And if you want to make your parents proud, and I know you do, this incident will never be repeated. Do you understand?

Harry, in tears: Yes, Dad.

Severus, through gritted teeth: Yes, what?

Harry: Yes, I understand and I won’t do it again.

Severus: *sits back in his chair* Good. Now give me your wand.

Harry: *hands over wand*

Harry: *sniffs*

Severus, sighing and standing up: Come here.

Harry: *shuffles into his arms*

Severus: *kisses his head* I love you, kid.

Harry, sniffling: Mmph.

Severus: *closes his eyes* And I’m proud of you. We all are.

Harry: *laughs wetly and shoves his face into Severus’ robes* We’re proud of you too, Dad.

A quarter of a book later…

Harry: Hey Dad, I found this awesome book and I don’t know who wrote it but -

Severus: Give that to me, Harry.

Harry: But Dad! This thing is literally the only reason I’m passing Potions at all -

Severus: I know. Because you told Minerva you want to be an Auror. Now that, Mr. Potter, is a fucking lie, and you shouldn’t be taking Potions anymore. So. What do you really want to do?

Harry:

Harry:

Harry:

Harry: I wanna be the Defense Against the Dark Arts Professor.

Severus: There you go. But bitch, if you get the position before me -

Harry: Dad -

Severus: And if you tell anyone who wrote this book I swear to Merlin I’ll make sure you meet your parents far earlier than expected -

Harry: The Half-Blood Prince? Why? Do you know him?

Severus:

Severus:

Severus:

Severus: I’m raising a dumbass.

Half a book later…

Harry: *bursts rudely into Severus’ office* Dad, Draco -

Severus: I know, Harry.

Harry: No, you don’t, this time I’m actually -

Severus: I know, Harry.

Harry: Dad, he’s -

Severus: *finally looks up from grading papers* Harry. I know. It’s okay.

Harry, sputtering: It’s not okay -

Severus: Harry, love. I don’t lie to you.

Harry:

Harry:

Harry:

Harry: I know. Okay.

Severus: *looks back down at his papers* Just don’t be dick.

Harry: I do not -

Severus: *raises his eyebrow*

Harry: Yes, Dad.

Three quarters of a book later…

Severus: So. Harry. I heard you’re dating Ginny Weasley.

Harry: No. Nope. I’m not.

Severus: I see. Well, either way -

Harry: Oh no.

Severus: Oh, yes. We need to have this conversation; you’re a growing sixteen year old boy. Of course, as your body grows there will be things -

Harry, bright red: No. No no no. Oh my god, Dad -

Severus, maintaining intense eye contact: When two or more people love each other very much, like your parents and I did -

Harry: *bolts right up* Dad, I will go to the Astronomy Tower and throw myself off right the fuck now if you don’t shut up, I swear to Merlin.

Severus: Good. Now, about protection -

Harry: I’ll do it.

Severus: So you’ve said. Madame Pomfrey has -

Harry: *throws his hands up in the air* I’m not even dating anyone!

Severus: *gives him a look* Of course people will be lining up eventually, you are the Chosen One after all.

Severus: *gives Harry a once-over and smirks*

Severus: Though I do wonder how you plan to defeat You-Know-Who when you can’t even sit through a discussion about the protection charms your mother cast when she sacrificed herself for you.

Harry:

Harry:

Harry:

Harry: OH MY GOD DAD THAT’S NOT FUNNY -

Severus: *giggling manically*

The rest of the book later…

Harry: Dad. No. Please, no.

Severus: I’m sorry, Harry.

Severus, externally: *looks at Dumbledore* Avada Kedavra.

Severus, internally: That’s what you get for hurting my son, you shitty old bitch.

Year Seven

Hermione: Harry, you need to talk about it.

Harry, setting up a tent “successfully”: Talk about what? I’m fine.

Hermione: *sighs* Your dad.

Harry: Okay. You wanna talk about your Obliviated parents?

Hermione:

Hermione:

Hermione:

Harry: Yeah, that’s what I thought.

Ron: *accidentally knocks the tent over*

Meanwhile, Severus…

Severus, staring blankly at the Carrows: What son.

Carrow #1: *sneers* Your son. Harry Potter.

Severus:

Severus:

Severus:

Severus: You think I raised that idiot?

Carrow #2: That’s… actually a fair point.

Severus: *huffs and crosses his arms over his chest*

Severus: *flips hair*

Severus, internally: Damn right it is, bitch.

Severus, externally: See? Obviously not my son.

Carrow #1, snickering: Plus no one would ever sleep with you.

Severus: *turns his head slowly so he can glare right into Carrow #1’s eyes*

Severus, in that dangerous, painfully slow drawl of his: Of course not. Carrot.

In Mcgonogall’s office at three a.m….

Severus: Where is he?

Mcgonogall: I don’t know, Severus.

Severus: But he’s alive, right?

Mcgonogall, sighing: If he wasn’t we’d have heard by now.

Severus, pacing: Right. Right. He’s fine. He’s fine. Har - he’s fine.

Half a book later…

Severus, poking his head into the Gryffindor common room at like two a.m.: Hello? Y’all coming?

Ginny, stepping forward while the rest of Gryffindor rallies behind her with small bags and pillows: Yeah.

Severus, creeping into the Hufflepuff dorms: Marshmallows? You guys ready?

Hufflepuffs, in perfect chorus as they gather with blankets and stuffies: Yes, Professor.

Severus, knocking on the Ravenclaws’ doors: Yo, smartasses, it’s time.

Luna, hugging a stuffed white rabbit with the rest of Ravenclaw behind her: Hi, Professor.

Severus: *heart melts a little bit* Hello, Luna.

Severus: *leads them all to the Room of Requirement under a mass invisibility spell*

Severus: *gets them all settled for a long-term sleepover*

Severus, straightening up: Okay. Anyone want goodnight hugs?

A few pages later…

Severus: You have a list for me?

Draco, handing over a piece of parchment: It’s alphabetized.

Severus: Hm. Thank you.

Severus: *reads list*

Severus: Get Zabini to put Zonko’s products in the bed of everyone on this list. Have Pansy get the rest of you prepped on the plan. If you’re all still on board, that is.

Draco: *shrugs* We may be Slytherins, sir, but we’re not cowards.

Severus: *eyes suddenly shiny* No. No, you’re not.

Most of a book later I think I haven’t read them in years…

Harry: You killed him.

Severus: *pleads with his eyes*

Harry: How dare you stand where he stood?

Severus, internally: FUCK why do I have to be the tortured one??? Kiss me, James said. Marry me, James said. Let’s have a kid, James said. This is all his fault. I swear Jamie when I die I am going to kill you. You fuckwad -

Severus, externally: *starts shooting harmless spells at Mcgonogall*

Quite a bit later…

Severus, internally: Fuck, I hate snakes. Why is that my Animagus? I already have this shitty tattoo and I’m in the snake House why do I need to die by a fucking snake too oh look my son’s here that’s humiliating

Harry, overwhelmed with tears: Dad -

Severus, internally: I’m fine go away jeez

Severus, externally: *gurgles*

Harry: *flurries his hands around Severus’ body uselessly*

Hermione, exasperated: Harry, move.

Harry, blubbering now: *whimpers* Mione -

Hermione, wand out and pointed at Severus’ wounds: Harry, move.

Two minutes later…

Severus, freshly healed and more than a little pissed off: Now let’s go tell that snake ass motherfucker to go fuck himself -

Harry, clinging to him desperately: Daddy you can’t -

Severus: Like fuck I can’t. That slimy ass shitwipe killed my spouses, tried to kill me, and has gone after you for your entire life as if you don’t have enough shit to deal with already so yeah I’m gonna go murder him.

Harry, burying his face in Severus’ robes: Dad, I have to go.

Severus: No, you don’t.

Harry: It’s the right thing to do.

Severus: Since when I have cared about the right thing?

Harry: Since always.

Severus:

Severus:

Severus:

Severus: You’re grounded for the rest of your life after you survive this.

Harry: *laughs wetly* Dad, I’m not gonna -

Severus: *kisses his forehead* I love you, Harry.

Harry: I love you, Dad.

*dead silence*

Hermione: Harry. We have to go.

Harry, whispering: Keep them safe, Dad.

Severus, also whispering: Of course, love.

Idontevenfuckingknow later…

Voldemort: Harry Potter is dead!

Everyone: *crying*

Severus, internally: The fuck no he’s not like you could kill my son.

Severus, externally: *stares at Voldemort*

Five minutes later…

Harry: Expelliarmus!

Severus: I KNEW IT

The end…

Harry: Hi, Dad.

Severus, tugging him into a hug: You’re grounded forever you fucking idiot.

Harry, grinning and hugging back: Yeah, I figured as much.

A little bit after the end…

Remus: You did a good job.

Sirius: You really did. I can’t say I’m not surprised.

Severus, internally: I can’t believe I saved your life you fucking dick.

Severus, externally: I know.

[nanowrimo]

The Art of Writing During Tumultuous Times

As an Emergency Room physician of 40+ years, D.A. Mucci is no stranger to difficult, even life-threatening, situations. During the pandemic, he turned to writing fantasy, and wrote his debut novel, Ignatius and the Swords of Nostaw. Today, he shares some tips that helped him develop his writing process during particularly terrible times: 

Counselors often tell their patients to manage their stress and difficult situations by journaling their thoughts and ideas. While I’ve been faced with plenty of stress in my life as an emergency room physician, journaling was not part of what helped me relax. I did find that telling a story worked. The creative process helped alleviate my stress, consciously and subconsciously.

I turned to writing during the pandemic based on the phenomenal suggestion from my wife, Jeanne. She thought it would be a great way of channeling my nervous energy and concerns of dealing with a disease that killed quickly and indiscriminately. My wife knew that when I tell stories to family members and friends, I have a good time and feel in my element. She thought, correctly, that would be a great way of unwinding.

I’ve been asked how I focused during such tumultuous times, and how I was able to break away from the physical and emotional trauma of dealing with so many critical patients and death at one time. In the emergency room, we have to learn, quickly, how to compartmentalize our thoughts and decisions. There are times I could be taking care of as many as 12-14 patients at one time — easily, during covid, 4-5 critically ill patients. You have to train your mind to shift from patient to patient instantly, thus putting the last patient behind you, while having the ability to pull them back to the forefront in an instant. I used that skill to write, placing the stress of the daily shift into another room, another place in my mind. It was put away for the moment. Thus, I was able to focus on the story, the characters, and allow my mind to fantasize, wander, and relax.

When writing, I try to use typical conventions for the process, but I also don’t hold myself bound to strict writing norms. I like to tell a story, even if it goes a bit outside of how editors say a story should be told.

For years I’ve been asked by my friends and family in social settings to tell them about my latest and greatest unusual stories in the emergency room. So, I’ve been a storyteller for decades. I love embellishing a real-life story for the entertainment factor, making it even more interesting and fun. People who know me know that as I tell a story about the emergency room, and most anything in my life, there’s always the “Dave embellishment factor” that comes into play. I suppose this is why I chose to write fantasy and dream up an entire new world in the Kingdom of Skye.

And it has taken me a while to learn how to turn storytelling into the art of creating a manuscript. I’ve been fortunate to have lots of coaching along the way from editors and taking courses about writing as an author. This homework is all part of what I needed to do to become better at crafting not only a story but specifically a manuscript.

My advice to those who want to write and aren’t sure where to start is simple: Just go ahead and start. That is the only way to learn the craft. And don’t expect the first story or few to be perfect. The first two books I wrote were held back due to lack of knowledge of how to write a good story and trying to stay within the guidelines of literary rules. Those rules stifled my story, my style and limited my creativity. 

My book Ignatius and The Swords of Nostaw breaks a few rules. Some editors early on in the process didn’t want me to tell the story from multiple points of view. But if done properly, the reader will get a fuller picture and appreciate the depth of storytelling. I so enjoy hearing from readers how they were able to get inside the different characters and get to know and understand each better. So, remember to have fun writing, it’s ok to color outside of the lines a little, and enjoy connecting with readers who will be entertained by your unique story.

Being an Emergency Room physician for close to forty years, D.A. Mucci found that the pandemic brought forth new horrors in the ER. Writing his debut fantasy novel became an enjoyable escape for him from all that was happening in the real world. Ignatius and the Swords of Nostaw was featured on Good Morning America and is the start of a new series that introduces readers to the uncharted reaches of the Kingdom of Skye with fantastical creatures, daring escapades, and witty one-liners. Learn more about the author and Iggy's adventures at DAMucci.com.

[ggukiepie]

you win some, you lose some

pairing: jungkook x reader

summary: you're supposed to be happy because your school's soccer team just won, but why does it feel like you've lost?

tags: bil!couple, college!au, bff!jk, two idiots in love, angst, yes oc is a cheerleader so we luv her for that, a lot of cliches, pining, it's the yearning?

warnings: slight emotional cheating?, other than that nothing really, sfw

wc: 1.1k

a/n: sorry this took to long but here is another one shot of the lovely bil!couple !! enjoy but this time it's angst, wrote this so quickly lmao so if there are any typos either look away or tell me thank yew / series masterlist / main masterlist

--

Kim Jiwoo.

You want to hate her, really, even just from the sound of her name. But you can’t. Because, well, she seems better than you in every way possible. She’s a cheerleader, not like you who’s only a member (you’re too busy being President of the student council, anyway), but she’s the captain. She’s flexible and is small enough to be a flyer so she’s always on the top of the pyramids. She’s got that leadership trait to her and a smile that looks so kind that everyone instantly likes her. You hate how she would give you pointers to correct your form and you hate it even more that she’s right most of the time.

She’s really smart, too, with good grades even though she’s taking up physics which is a difficult course. You’re a liberal arts student and despite the stereotype of college courses not being true, you hate how that’s still what you believe. That she’s better than you. But you like to tell yourself that a physics degree is the easiest of the pre-med degrees out there, so maybe she isn’t that smart. Maybe.

She’s pretty, one of the most beautiful girls in your university. She’s got a lot of friends and a lot of suitors.

She’s everything you are, but better. Or she’s everything you want to be. That’s what you think anyway.

There's also another thing she has that you don't. And that’s Jeon Jungkook’s heart.

Okay, so maybe you do hate her. Or you’re just bitter. Daresay…jealous?

You’re at the soccer field right now. It’s the semi-finals and as everyone loves the soccer team, the place is packed. It’s also against your rival school so this game is very important. You’re at the side with the rest of the cheerleading team. You’re drinking water and taking a quick break, as the rest are doing the same. Except Kim Jiwoo. She’s standing on the sidelines, pompoms raised in the air while cheering for the team.

Actually, she’s just cheering for Jungkook. She’s wearing his jersey too and it’s the jersey Jungkook gave you before, the one he told you to wear during his game and seeing her wear it now makes your heart clench a little. (Correction: a lot).

“Hi,” you hear from behind you and it makes you scream and jump in the air. You’re being dramatic but Jungkook knows how easily you get scared.

“Kook!” you scold as you turn to face him. You punch his shoulder and he pretends he’s hurt but you know he isn’t. Stupid gym rat with a stupid hot body. “Stop creeping up on me like that.”

He laughs and proceeds to enter your room, sitting on your bed like it’s his and he actually lives there. “Sorry, just needed to get something from you.”

You stare at him weirdly. Anything of his that’s left in your dorm has become yours, actually. From his shirts to his snacks and even to that one laundry detergent he left last week. “Which is?” you ask.

“My jersey.”

Your brows crease. “But why? It’s your game next week and I’m gonna wear it, duh.”

“Need to give it to Jiwoo,” he says now, voice mumbled and eyes on the floor.

Immediately, your stomach drops. You thought you had a right to wearing that shirt and that you’re the only one who could wear it, in fact! But you guess your best friend privileges only go so far. Right. He’s been dating that Jiwoo girl for around a month now and you hate it when you spot them on the quad sending heart eyes at each other. You don’t know why the sight of them makes you feel so uneasy. Or maybe you do know but thinking it out loud will only confirm your feelings, which is something you aren’t ready to face yet.

“Right,” you say after a beat. The air feels awkward now. So tense and quiet, filled with unspoken words. But who are you to deny him, anyway? It’s his shirt. Kim Jiwoo is his girlfriend and you’re just the best friend.

You give him the jersey and ask him to leave, coming up with some excuse that you have a paper to do. Jungkook knows you’re lying because you both share a Google calendar and you put all your homework there and he knows you don’t have an upcoming paper to submit. Still, he doesn’t say anything as he leaves.

Your heart hurts and you decide right there and then that you never ever want to see Jeon Jungkook.

A yellow card is given to the opposing team and a timeout is called. Jungkook and the rest of his teammates jog over to the side you’re at. He’s making his way to where the water is but Jiwoo intercepts his path and gives him a hug. Jungkook looks happy and that makes you want to cry.

You continue to watch their interaction before you turn around and make a beeline for the bathroom. You already feel tears prickling at the corner of your eyes and you do not want to cry in front of the whole school, or in front of Jungkook.

Eventually, the game resumes and you try not to seethe and stare at Jiwoo wearing Jungkook’s jersey all throughout the game. But it’s hard because she’s standing in front of you most of the time. Your school wins and everyone is screaming and shouting. You want to be happy, you really do, but your heart breaks even more as Jungkook runs to Jiwoo, hugging her and spinning her in circles in front of everyone. He kisses her too and you know you’re definitely tearing up. You hate yourself for it. Because who are you to feel this way, really?

Jimin’s just as happy since his team won but his smile immediately drops when your eyes meet and he sees you’re near tears. Without a word his gaze drifts to where Jungkook and Jiwoo are. Then he turns to you and gives a small and sympathetic smile. You’re supposed to be happy because your team’s won but it feels like you’ve lost.

You hate it. You hate that you’re here and you hate that it hurts. You hate that you’re too late, or that you never even had a chance to begin with. You hate that she’s wearing his jersey when it’s supposed to be you. You hate that she’s kissing Jungkook when it’s supposed to be you.

You turn around to get your things and leave without saying goodbye to anyone. You don’t know Jungkook’s looking for you and you don’t know that his heart drops when he sees you leaving the field without congratulating him.

He wishes that you’re the one in his arms instead, but you don’t know that as well. Maybe you never even will.