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napo-leo-art · 9 months

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This is an unfinished and largely unedited fic I was writing about Levi's first time with Danny where (for some unknown reason) I decided to make a rule where I could only write it while drunk (idk if this was an exercise in seeing what came out when I was drunk or if it was ~*method writing*~ or what, but idk if I can finish it and I sure as hell cannot read it loool

Anyway Word Count: ~3300 words Rating: E Pairing: Herald/Levi (Sidestep) Warnings: I honestly have no idea, I didn't read it

"So..." Daniel swallows, finally aware that he's standing with a half-naked man on the verge of what might be a breakdown in his arms. "Do... do you want a drink or something?"

Levi wants to laugh. Levi wants a smoke, or a whole pack. He wants to tear Daniel's clothes off and take a bite of him, maybe sink down on his knees and see how far down his throat Daniel-Danny can go.

"Yes," He says in response. It comes out on an exhale, Levi's body kick starting him back to life with a little jolt. His foot sweeps forward and bumps into one of Daniel's, and only then does he realize he was checking for floating. No- Danny-Daniel's really that much taller even with both feet on the ground. Not as tall as Ortega. Neck probably doesn't hurt as much when he bends down to kiss Levi, which he's done more than once since they've got here, but it still makes Levi's stomach clench to think of how they must look together- the Golden Boy and the Has-Been, and at least his long legs keep Sidestep from looking too small in photos. Next to each other, though...

Maybe it would be better to put Danny on his knees. Or on his ass more likely, leaning back onto his hands, head tilted until that bright hair has fallen off of his face, and his face hidden between Levi's thighs...

"Levi?" Fuck, now that he's heard a hint of the accent, he can't let it go in his mind.

"Hm?" He asks, before he thinks about the fact that he's still clinging onto Danny, who has acquiescently kept his arms just as tight- not because he thinks Levi's too weak to hold himself together apparently, but because Danny *likes* it, and he's going to keep doing it as long as Levi actually lets him. Levi feels like he's flicking treats to a dog, which is a mean way to see Danny but god, isn't it accurate?

For a moment he's hit with a poetic thought: that the heat he's feeling is from basking in the warmth of feeling so *loved*.

He squashes that feeling back where it belongs, into the overflowing trashcan of his mind. Fuck, he's so drunk already that Danny might really just be holding him up with his arms.

He doesn't let Danny let him go, no- he holds those arms firmly in place and twists in their hold, turning back towards the kitchen counter and using Danny's glass for the both of them. His own glass lays abandoned on the floor where he *threw* it, and even that didn't scare Danny away. And that means that feeling bad about this really is meaningless, because Danny has already seen at least half of the nasty, ugly, *wrong* things about him, and he's not pulling those arms away or telling Levi to leave. Levi could push him off the deep end right now: '*I'm Retribution, I broke your leg, and I LIKED IT.*'

Instead he fills up Danny's glass, too full, more than is appropriate. But why the fuck do they make whiskey glasses so big if you're not supposed to fill them to the top? Why is Danny's hair so soft if not to grab it, why are his lips so plush if Levi's not supposed to kiss them?

When he spins back around to Danny with drink in hand, he's not sure if the drop in his gut is anxiety or lust. Really could be either. Both. Dr. What's Her Face has heard a little bit about his sex life or lack thereof because *he* brought it up, dumb asshole, and she says that he should take that twist in his gut as the fear it is but really, he hates fear but he's learned to like whatever *this* is.

Danny doesn't ask if Levi's okay, for which he's eternally grateful. Levi can only just *feel* the intention of the question buzzing at the front of Danny's mind.

"Pretty big glass you've got there," He says instead, still unsettled but now at least Levi isn't crying and *oh,* Levi's taking his jaw in his hand and so gently pushing the lip of the glass between Danny's plush ones, pouring a little more into his willing mouth. He's a little clumsy with it, little streams of the expensive stuff seeping past the corners of his mouth. Levi pulls the glass to the side and this time when he pulls Danny down, he licks the liquor from his face. It's so gross. Levi's just gross. He can still feel how he's exciting Danny, so it looks like it's working. He takes a swig from the glass and swallows with effort before his lips meet Danny's again, the smoky-oak flavor passing between them.

"I want *you,*" Levi says then, letting his voice dip into its huskiest tones. Smoking and boozing has fucked up his voice a little, but is that really so bad? He tries to immitate that throat rumble when he's John but he just *can't*, and it feels so good to have one goddamn thing that this body has over his puppet.

If he bothered to peek past the booze, he'd find that this body only makes him feel stupid when he tries to tease. But he'll let that thought lie where it fell, because he can *feel* the way Danny pushes his hips forward, seeking contact.

He can feel Danny's clothed cock bump his lower stomach. Fuck. *Fuck.*

"Oh, just that? I can give you that." Danny says with a grin. Correction, Levi's telepathy provides: he would love to give you that, *please.* He's even letting his hands trace the hemline of Levi's pants, a hint about what he wants before he even opens his mouth again. "May I?"

Normally Levi would refuse. He only knows his normal because the idea of this has plagued him for months, and in ten fantasies out of ten he was coaxing Danny not to float as he sunk his mouth down to Danny's base and took him all.

But tonight he's too busy marveling at the way his body is happily, enthusiastically responding to Danny's closeness and '*ah,*' Levi thinks, '*that's what it's supposed to feel like.*' He's so turned on already that he can feel the slick of his wetness coating the inside of his thighs. His legs shift together, trying to alleviate it, hoping for- god, why hide it? Hoping for Danny between them, whether it's his hand, his face, or his hips. Doesn't really matter.

"Go for it." Levi says, but he's still surprised when Danny yanks him up onto the counter before his trousers come off. Nope, not just trousers. Underwear too. The marble is freezing cold against his ass but hey, kitchen counters are the perfect place to eat. He's going to deny that sound later, the sound he makes when Danny coaxes his legs open. He'll edit it right out of the clip he's made of the noise *Danny* made, and he's not sure Danny knows he made it or that Levi heard it. He knows how to do *this,* he's just never done it with a man before, and that thought fills Levi with equal measures of jealousy and comfort up until Danny bends to kiss his thigh and everything, everything else goes away for just a little moment.

"This is my first," Levi gasps when Danny's thumb creeps over to slide along the line of a scar on his thigh, not because he wants to share it but because it feels *important*, and because Danny is apparently the sounding board for every stupid secret he's had. '*Why not talk about the threesome dream while you're at it?*' "...time."

"I better make it *really* good then," Danny laughs, not at Levi but just because he can't believe this is happening, his face heating further when Levi's hands find a good grip in his hair, which is just as soft as it looks. And Levi's hands feel it just as well as he sees it when Danny fully dips his head between his thighs and... *damn.*

His throat clamps automatically against his first moan, and every one after that is a little easier, caught behind the tight press of his lips. He grabs the glass of whiskey and takes a full gulp of it.

Danny's tongue traces up the slit between Levi's legs twice before it pushes a little further, before one hand slips off Levi's thigh to spread him open. His only sounds are gasps and sighs. His body tells a different story: tightened grips on Danny's hair, twitching muscles, a bottom lip clamped hard between his teeth.

"Fingers," He demands, because all this is already so much without having to ask nicely, and because even at home alone he wants it like this, fingers pressing up against his g-spot.

Danny obliges with just one at first, and that's enough. Levi sees more than senses what Danny wants: himself, legs wrapped tight around Danny's hips as he buries himself inside, every thrust deep...

It feels better to think of this all as what Levi wants. Being wanted is *hard*, being wanted feels *wrong*, and so in his own mind he imagines Danny pressed back against the sheets, Levi fucking down against his straddled hips.

"Oh fuck," Danny whimpers, finger still buried in Levi even as he butts his head against Levi's hip. Levi didn't mean to push the idea out, but it's already out there before he knows it. And he knows that it barely matters that Danny knows the origin of the thought, mostly seeing it as his own: '*Me pressed back against my sheets, Levi fucking down against my straddled hips.*'

He wants to throw the glass still in his grip. He wants a smoke. The most sane thing he wants is to touch Danny and to be touched back, and it would be easier to use his grip on Danny's hair to slide him back between his thighs, but he doesn't do that. He tilts Danny's head up oh so gently. It's mostly a strain on himself to bend his back so sharply when he leans down to kiss him again, tasting himself on Danny's lips and tongue. Daniel, lips parting to let Levi kiss him deeper, isn't passive the way Levi half-wishes he was. Another finger slips in, both curling up to push up at just the right angle.

Fuck.

He does his damnest to strangle that noise back where it belongs, behind his teeth where it won't do too much damage. But his lips and teeth are parted to slot as much of his mouth against Danny's as he can, and that's been going on *too long*, and so he parts them with a yank on that feather-soft hair just in time to make his punched-out whine harden into a rasp. Danny's thumb finds his clit faster than his half-lidded eyes can find contact with Levi's.

"How's that?" He asks with a grin that Levi hears as much as sees. Bastard. The bastard's other hand is tracing the scars on Levi's thigh with a reverence that doesn't feel soothing- which is fine really, Levi thinks he'd hate being patted and doted on like a twitchy stray cat, most of all *now* when what he wants is... exactly what Danny's giving him. *That look,* like...

"Is *that* why you keep looking at the scars?" Levi asks, breath hitching on a moan and then bursting back out with a breathless laugh. *Incredible.* "A kink?"

Danny doesn't have to answer, the flush on his cheeks does all the talking. But does anyway, "*yeah*", before he leans back down and wraps his lips around Levi's clit.

"Oh my-- *god*," Levi laughs again, bringing the glass up to his mouth and just butting the rim up against his lips. "I'm here telling- you my darkest... secrets... and you're getting... a stiffy over my scars. *Oh fuck,*" He gulps down another swallow of whiskey before he sinks down against the countertop, skin prickling with goosebumps as soon as the marble touches his skin.

"I think I finally get your sense of humor," Danny quips from between his legs, right before his tongue laps around his fingers, dipping into his entrance. Levi grunts, his whole core starting to tense, his thighs threatening to clamp around his poor victim's head. Danny's doing so good it feels like a challenge, and he doesn't plan to lose.

"Then you're... *probably* drunk enough... I don't want *either* of us sober... for my first time." Levi hisses, and he can just barely feel Danny's thoughts butting through the haze of his drunkenness, and he's got to cut that off *now*. "I showed you mine, when... are you gonna show me... yours? Scars. Body. *Come here.*"

Danny's lips are on his again, and his fingers have never stopped moving. Levi is trying and failing to plant his heels against the countertop so he can grind down on them.

He just *knows* none of those pinup shots are real. Photoshop or something. Not just the physique but the skin, not even the most premium doctors could erase everything Retribution did to Danny.

It's not the scars that are Levi's kink, exactly. He just like thinking that he's made his mark on this new territory, left something behind that'll stick even when this all goes to shit. He knows on a bone-deep level that it will, that there's an invisible timer ticking down at inconsistent, immeasurable speed.

Danny-Daniel has to pull his fingers out to undress, not looking even the slightest bit self-conscious. Levi wonders if it feels *good* to know he's so wanted, so want*able*, if Danny actually feels sexy under his scrutiny. The thought of eyes on him makes him feel pinned down like some etymological victim, or maybe like the butt of some joke. It's made worse by how bad he still wants this, like at any moment Danny will pull back and laugh at his enthusiastic desperation.

"Fuck you." He blurts with a little too much heat, one hand shooting up to grasp the curve of Danny's pec. "The pictures were real."

Except for the scars, but that registers more on the lizard hindbrain than on the more upfront desires burning up right out on the open. Thank *god* Danny isn't a telepath, because his mind is flooding with desires without proper outlet: bite, devour, fuck, make him beg, make him CRY

The buzz of too-bright thought bubbles up between them, and Levi knows it's Danny's thought before he even forms it into words and pictures- Levi doesn't need a cock to *fuck him* and use him the way he wants, he'd be a willing but mischievous little toy for Levi to gnaw on, to take what he wants. Just an illusion of true submission, but it works. He wants to make Levi come *so bad* that it snaps into Levi's mind stronger than Danny's base need to stick his cock in him. He'd happily let Levi ride his face for the rest of the night, as long as Danny could just see him blissed out at the end of it.

"*Fuck you,*" He repeats, and Danny laughs this time, though his face is heated. It contrasts so nicely with the pale hue his skin usually takes. This time Levi can see just how far that blush travels- it meets his jaw, then neck, collarbones and beyond. The fingers still splayed on Danny's chest just toe the blurred line of where his blush ends. The heat extends past that. Levi thinks he can feel his own sweat beading where their bodies are pressed together. "You think I won't? I've got no gripes about leaving you like this."

"Let me take you to the bedroom?" He offers rather than demands, bubbling up another flock of associated thoughts and feelings. Levi doesn't need to read them, because Danny happily says it. "My bed is a lot more comfortable. It's soft."

"I prefer firm." He doesn't, but he's a contrarian little ass even when he's not drunk. That means, though, that Danny just blinks down at him with this look of feigned innocence that makes Levi want to scream, or at least just bite him.

"Take me there," He orders a half-beat later, because he knows that Danny won't just fucking take him until he gets a straight answer for once. It doesn't matter if Danny's deciphered his code or not, Levi still needs to speak his language for him to work. Like saying the right cheat code or entering the right password. "*Now,*"

This time Danny moves him without sass, slipping back into the comfort of their dynamic. Not nearly as well-worn as Levi's dynamic with *Ortega*, where communication moves with a connection delivered through words spoken in the past. Danny has acclimated himself to Levi with a speed that betrays all of that pure observational skill; on Levi's end, it's mostly telepathy. He's not afraid to cheat, just a little ashamed to admit it.

Maybe it would be better not to think of Ortega, who still brings up a sharp and pleasant sting in his chest in some sort of psychosomatic response, or maybe some sort of learned pain- it'll hurt when the bad part happens, so might as well start the hurting now. Things like seeing Ortega with a million and one potential love interests and only turning to Levi with entirely platonic affection.

Not like Herald-Danny, who looks at Levi like he's worth fucking on clean sheets and a soft mattress, like he'd care if Levi dipped past nervous, neurotic, but enthusiastic participation and into a sort of dull-eyed acceptance-

No. He has to physically shake that thought away, body quaking enough that Danny shoots a puzzled look his way as he bends down to gather Levi up in his arms.

"Your counter is so fucking cold,"

"The bedroom's warmer," Danny assures with a coy smile, using the moment to warm Levi's back with his hands. "We can turn on the heater if it's that bad."

"Who the fuck," Levi spits with contempt, shoving his face against Danny's neck even as his skin prickles with latent discomfort, "Has a heater in Los Diablos? Get a white noise machine and just cope with eighty degree weather, you freak."

All of this shit- Danny carrying him in his arms, Danny kissing him, holding him, accepting him, *loving him*- it's declawing Levi bit by bit. The Levi of months ago could've broken the man's spirit, forced Danny to reject him, heard and *felt* how much it would hurt the little hero. Now he's not sure he could muster anything affective. He's tracing the tips of his short nails along the edges of all of Danny's scars, dismissing a halfhearted fantasy about tearing them back open with Retribution's clawed gauntlets. Instead he's catching Danny's skin between his teeth, too soft to deal real damage. He's finding the peaks and valleys of Danny's muscles with his fingertips, only pausing to rub a nipple under his roughened thumb.

Danny is floating them both to the bedroom, cracking an unashamed smile to greet the hard stare Levi tries- and fails- to give him.

'*I wish I were a telepath too.*'

"No, you don't."

'*If I were, I could know what you're thinking right now.*'

"You don't think you could ask?"

'*I don't think you would answer.*'

#writing tag #I am still behind on replies to things #tumblr has been stressing me out #fhr #levi song

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several-spoons · 3 years

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Vash/Wolfwood Fanfic Recommendations

Top 2 Written by an Author I don’t Know Personally:

Vash and Wolf by Scaryliterary [Multi-Chapter]: Yes, I’m recommending a college AU. But the characters are dead on, the found family vibe is amazing, the dramatic scenes are gripping, and the major plot elements are reproduced in a surprising way. Rated M, mainly for disturbingly self-destructive moments, I think. Handmade Artisanal AU #1.

How to Sleep Above the Sky by hibem. This AU is just a hair’s breadth away from canon; it takes place among the Gung Ho Guns on a satellite above a Gunsmoke where the Fall never happened. It’s one of the most poetic and sensory things I’ve ever read, so I’ve read it at least 6 times. Vash is adorable. Beware of sad ending. Handmade Artisanal AU #2.

Tied for Third:

For Good by Celesma. Set in mangaverse after Wolfwood rescues Vash from the ark. What if Vash had gone to the Orphanage with him? The dialogue is amazing. This is where I get the headcanon that Wolfwood’s self-hating inner voice calls him “Nicky.” [Has NSFW moments].

The Only Nice Thing That Follows, by hellogaywatson [Multi-Chapter; in progress]: I recently realized how much my sense of Vash and Wolfwood’s interactions was inspired by this fic. Especially the wonderful quote that Wolfwood’s smoking is doing the world a public service. Probably the funniest, weirdest set of tags I’ve seen in Trigun fandom. Rated explicit, but nothing explicit actually happens in the first 8 chapters; I’d rate it T.

SFW

The Gospel According to Wolfwood by DWatson: from Wolfwood’s point of view–and in his voice. Absolutely nailed the voice. Rated T, manga-based.

Reflections of a Person who Smells Like Nicotine by Medokre: Deep dive into Wolfwood’s character featuring orphanage memories, symbolism, and sadness.

Scars, Cigarettes, and Scripture. Fun Vash & Wolfwood interaction between episodes 21 and 22. If you like both religious references and imagining what sort of dogs the Gung Ho Guns would be, you’ll enjoy it. Rated T, mostly for some gore and references to Wolfwood’s traumatic past.

Contrition by Perivale: Deep dive into Wolfwood’s character focusing on his conscience and religious beliefs, with more than a dash of poetry e e cummings style.

Not a Question of Morals by Sugar Pill: Vash is depressed about leaving Ericks behind. Wolfwood encourages Vash to be himself with an…unusual story. Teen.

Eden by Shinatobe [Multi-Chapter]: Roaring 20′s jazz club AU. When faced with the choice between death row or serving under the infamous Million Knives, Wolfwood’s choice is clear. Wolfwood is a little too weepy, but it’s still interesting. Rated T. Unfinished, unfortunately.

Varilien brings the fluff.

Also, I’ve been known to write Vash/Wolfwood fic from time to time. So does @caps4dayz (10KThunderingTyphoons) right here on Tumblr!

NSFW

The Difference in Years by Katilara: Deals with the implications of Wolfwood being so young, and to a lesser extent, Vash enduring so many years on Gunsmoke. “Do you ever feel like you don’t belong in your skin?“ “It must be hard,” Vash said quietly, “to realize that you are not the things you’ve used to define yourself for your whole life.” M.

Walking Day by GreenElphaba. There’s this one ridiculously long paragraph that’s a thoughtful meta/character analysis, from Wolfwood’s point of view. “You love him in part because someone has to and you do believe that no one else really does, because real love requires real sight and you are maybe the only one who has ever really seen him. …you love him in part because you have appointed yourself the emissary of humanity and it is therefore yours to close the terrible gap between his love for humanity and their hatred of him. …But mostly you just love him because he’s lovable, because you cannot help yourself any more than an animal can help savaging itself when caught in a trap. He smiles a certain way and your heart spills out like water and your throat aches…you are trying, racing against time to try and unpick the knots inside his head, help him understand there are other ways to live, help him bend before his brother breaks him.” M.

Genesis by emungere: Wolfwood has imagined angels many times during his life, but never expected to meet one…Rated T and up.

Just Straight Up Smut

Self-Inflicted by Angsty_McGoth (Doctor_Cyance): Are you into mutual pining and sexual tension? This is for you.

The Confessional Experience: OK, not so much a confessional, more like one of those free-standing wardrobes. Part banter, part ridiculous situation, part smut, with a funny ending.

Life on Gunsmoke by JojoLightningFingers. Involves: Weird plant biology, telepathy, scars, religious musings, and Livio.

Paradise (chapter 1). What if Wolfwood survived in Paradise, and ended up telepathically connected with Vash? Basically just well-written telepathy-PWP; the whole resurrection bit doesn’t make much sense.

Tiggy Malvern writes good smut. My favorite is Balance. It’s been an inspiration for me and one of my writing buddies.

Untitled by Black-Quadrant. Mutual pining and sexual tension in a very different way. Vivid in every sense, not just vision. Black-Quadrant may be my favorite Trigun smut writer.

Untitled by Black-Quadrant. I think the dynamic makes sense.

Hallefuckinglujah, by lactoria, includes the whole angel/wings aspect of Vash.

#vash the stampede #nicholas d. wolfwood #nicholas d wolfwood #wolfwood #vash the stampede/nicholas d. wolfwood #vash/wolfwood #vashxwolfwood #vashwood #killing time #trigun fic #trigun fanfic #trigun fanfiction #trigun fan fiction #fic recs #fanfic recs #fic recommendations #fanfic recommendations #tiggymalvern #black-quadrant

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ohhalefire · 2 years

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Derek Hale for the headcanons :)

[ from this post ]

hooooooo friend do i have some headcanons for you~

Headcanon A: realistic

Okay, so, hear me out: if we're following general rules of story structure and character development arcs (which I recognize JD never really did, but this is a theoretical, mental exercise anyway in which we wave a magic wand and have all the cast members and creative control we want, so bear with me), if we had more canon Derek content, he'd have eventually become an Alpha again.

Aside from the obvious need for sterek and him learning that his love doesn't necessarily equal pain, any other of Derek's personal arcs are pretty complete (for better or for worse). By the end of the show, he hates himself less, learns to trust people, etc. The one little loose end that isn't tied up before he leaves? It's that speech he gave - the "they get to be a name on our deadpool" speech.

That's... that's Alpha as fuck. It's out of left field. And we never explored that.

So Derek was raised in a house where his older sister was essentially groomed to be the perfect Alpha from childhood. He was literally born to be her beta, and not given the Alpha education she was. When he becomes an Alpha in canon, it's for a lot of reasons, sure (power, protecting Beacon Hills from the coming Alpha pack, etc) but it’s also out of necessity, and with an attitude of "I'm the best option out of all these other, very bad options". Of course this self-hating loner would be terrible at it: he learned from a young age to trust nobody and tell nobody anything, and we know from watching Scott that a good Alpha must trust their Pack implicitly.

But he's learned to trust Scott and the Pack by the end of the show. He learned how to be a good Alpha by being a good beta.

And yet, he's still a loner. He comes and goes. He can't commit to staying with the people he cares about - can't commit to letting them stay close at all, even geographically. This is clear in the finale episode, when Scott says something about how some people are not always there, but come when they're needed, which implies that Derek would continue to come and go even once Monroe is dealt with.

If you're writing a story arc for a character... isn't that incomplete? Isn't the finale of that arc coming to a time when he can actually keep people close, and stay that way?

There's a concept in storytelling called 'the lie the character believes', and it is supposed to keep the character in question from becoming the person they were meant to be - the person they, ideally, end up being at the end of the story (if that's the type of arc they get, and not a spiral-into-darkness type arc). The lie Derek believes is that he can't stick around anyone or get too close, or people will get hurt. That's clear. But if nothing about his life palpably changes when he eventually unlearns this lie in a theoretical future plot for him, then there is no point to finishing this unfinished story at all. Therefore, he needs to have a profound change to his life to reward him for learning this - ie, becoming an Alpha again. (Yes, him just having a fulfilling relationship is also a profound change he could have to his life, but if that's the only change, then it doesn't address that Alpha-AF speech that was the unfinished thread that started all this in the first place.)

How would this work in a possible future arc? Welp, I do have LOTS of opinions about it, but I am kind of writing a really massive fic featuring this very plot, so stay tuned, I guess~

Again, obviously, TW has a long history of NOT following story structure, of dropping arcs, etc. This is just a headcanon about where I personally would go if I were handed this story and told "finish it" with no limitations. :P

(Also, of course, the other unfinished thing is that he's nailed his heart shut in a box and won't let anyone touch it, and Stiles can open it right back up~)

Headcanon B: while it may not be realistic it is hilarious

Derek actually really likes halloween. It's his favourite time of year.

He would never admit to liking pretty much anything - he has a grumpy sourwolf reputation to uphold, after all - but it's the only time of year when he can flash his eyes and his fangs in public and not be afraid of the repercussions. It's like Werewolf Pride month for him: a safe(r) time to go outside as the person he really is, without hiding it.

But don't get me wrong - he wouldn't be caught dead in a costume. Unless Stiles twisted his arm :)

Headcanon C: heart-crushing and awful, but fun to inflict on friends

When everyone forgets Stiles, so does Derek. And briefly, that turns him into an omega.

He's forgotten Peter, too, and while that means that he forgets he had any living family save Cora (because it means he forgets he and Malia are cousins), that doesn't affect him the way forgetting Stiles does.

He's in South America, as far away from home as he can be without an ocean in the way... and yet suddenly he barely remembers what home even means. He struggles to keep his connection to Scott - barely remembers why it was even there, though he knows he would have died for that kid at one point - and tries to bond to the Alpha that Cora's with instead to try to make up for it, but it doesn't work. He is unmoored, untethered, adrift.

And then he takes to floating in pools.

Again, I might write a canon-compliant fic about how I think he actually helped pull Stiles back into reality remotely by floating in said pools to remember him, so I won't go farther, but yeah

Headcanon D: unrealistic, but I will disregard canon about it because I reject canon reality and substitute my own.

I am a very fix-the-canon type of person, so most of my thoughts on TW are canon-compliant, but I do have this to offer:

Derek has read a whole bunch of Star Wars novelizations because Stiles won't stop going on about the movies. He won't watch the films... but some of those books are pretty good. :P

#my writing #ask games #asks #metas #teen wolf #sterekxhale

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bellamioneotp · 4 years

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Bellamione Fic Master List

Making a list of Bellamione fics to guide the poor innocent souls into temptation organize stories based on AU type.

DARK AU’s

Bellatrix isn’t a bright ball of sunshine, but rather than have a story where she becomes a better person, Hermione becomes like her, or even joins her side. This AU type isn’t limited to only that, but also to general dark themes in the story such as violence, war and ‘wtf this is so wrong but yet I can’t stop reading’.

Reign Down Like wow. A whole world built around what if Voldemort survived and used Hermione in his evil schemes and had Bellatrix engaged to her. Very detailed and the author doesn’t hold back on aspects of the new world that can be somewhat unsettling. 25/10 this will leave you wondering just how sexy dark magic can truly feel.

The Dark Corners of the Earth This one is dark in an entirely different sense. Bellatrix and Snape are pitted in an ancient war against one another and Hermione is caught in the middle. The romance moves a bit too fast paced for me but the lore and detail in this will have you really thinking this story over the next few days, trying to figure out just wtf is going on. 45/10 will have you hoping your nightlight can keep Cthulhu away.

Haunted This story won’t leave you haunted, but it is pretty good even with it’s short chapters and all. It tells the story of Hermione sort of losing her marbles but I won’t get into too much detail. Just read it for yourself; it’s a quick easy read. 10/10 is poetic as fuck.

I Dream of Sin Takes place in a sort of canon world in which Hermione is an American teen being bullied. You can imagine how well that goes for the bullies especially when she learns she has magic and is taught by Bellatrix herself on how to use it. It gets progressively darker each chapter. 16/10 don’t want to mess with magical nerds ever.

For whom the Bell Tolls is an interesting look into how Hermione’s actually a death eater and Bellatrix is not. While Hermione is not bat shit insane, she is a murderer and Bellatrix is the sane one. Nice to see things switched up. This story is not necessarily as dark as the others but it gets brownie points for making the usually good Hermione evil right off the bat. 9/10 come to the dark side, we have cookies.

Staring at Nothing is just...wow. A very powerful one shot about Hermione’s descent into darkness as told by Harry’s perspective. 10/10 for who needs friends anyways, when you’ve got black leather.

Visions of You in which Hermione is a depressed youth after the war and has to deal with hallucinations of Bellatrix. Hermione isn’t dark here so much as she is gray type, and the story has a permeating tinge of sadness to it, given the circumstances. 8/10 for maybe Bellatrix isn’t a hallucination?

Deep Below what’s more awful than being accused of Harry’s death? Being falsely accused of it, and having to deal with trying to prove your innocent. This is a situation Hermione ends up in. But will she get out of it? 8/10 for this gets deep.

How to Love Bellatrix captures Hermione and sort of indoctrinates her into the world of darkness. Hermione is mad at first, but then she realizes how sexy Bellatrix is and is like, ‘alright fam, sign me up’ and boom Bellamione. 8/10 you love this story but not it’s update schedule.

TIME TRAVELER AU’s

Basically, what it says on the tin. Someway or another, Hermione goes back into time to stop Bellatrix from ever becoming evil. Drama and romance ensue.

Future Shocks A good time turner fic with a more modern take on war. It’s pretty long and it is the slowburn of all slowburns. But it’s a very interesting story and the ending will have you definitely shook. 8/10 will shock you awake from that boring lecture you’re reading fanfic in.

Time Heals all Wounds Hermione gets sent back in time to ‘redeem’ Bellatrix but not in the gift card way, more like saving the future type way. They end up, you guessed it, falling in love and changing the future somewhat. 6/10 is a young teen romance that will have you reliving your adventures as a young sapphic witch.

Mirror, Mirror Not exactly a time turner fic, more like a parallel world, I suppose. Hard to explain but has good amounts of mystery and trying to understand what is happening. Focuses more on Bellatrix’s POV which is a nice change of pace. 8/10 will have you looking in the mirror and summoning Bellatrix like she was Bloody Mary.

Let the Light Come and Take me A time turner fic that ends up with Bellatrix time traveling but to the future and the chaos her arrival there causes for those who are acquainted with her devious ways. Looks at the growth of our two ladies relationship into something more. 5/10 if it’s not slowburn romance is it really Bellamione?

The One Within the Other this story is about, you guessed it, time travel! Hermione goes back on purpose to stop Bellatrix from achieving her evil potential and in the process love blossoms. 7/10 for never enough time to read Bellamione in peace!

Caught in the Time series this is a series of three full length stories about Bellamione stuck in different times and universes. So much happens in them it’s kind of hard to summarize so the best thing to do is read them. 8, 8.5, 7/10 I’ll let you figure out which score goes for which series.

Just say When started off as a time turner story but then it ended up becoming something more of an espionage tale. It’s a good read and interesting to see how Bellatrix aims to save Hermione from a dementor’s kiss (spoilers!) in order to save their future together. A good mix of romance and action. 8/10 The name’s Black. Bellatrix, Black.

The Broken Wand It all starts with a wand and then before you know it, boom, time travel happens. Featuring Loki and adventure all around, this fic has interesting plot points to keep you engaged despite the slower update times. 7/10, will break your wand too.

Hourglass basically, a young Bellatrix is brought into the future and consequences abound from that mishap. The plot is a bit wonky and there are some logic mistakes, but if you can get over it, it’s a decent time travel story. 5/10 for it must be canon that Bellatrix has a lovely hourglass figure.

Times they are a Changing where Bellatrix travels back in time to save her wife, Hermione. Nice to see a story where Hermione isn’t the one doing all the saving. Unfortunately there’s only six chapters to this story and it’s unlikely it’ll ever get finished but it’s a nice fresh concept. 6/10 for that’s how many chapters there are.

Destined in this one, Hermione experiences some wonky times after the battle at the department of mysteries. Hermione has to find a way back home, but perhaps she might find love along the way? 10/10 for this is destined to be an interesting read.

HEALER AU’s

Let’s be real, Bellatrix has got a lot of problems and these authors try to solve them, with sex. And you know, medical help. But sex definitely helps a lot.

Portrait of a Tragic Woman Not a typical healer type au, because Hermione is a therapist whose helping Bellatrix with her mental disorders. Focuses a lot on the relationship between the two and really makes you try to figure out what exactly is up with Bellatrix and what is her past, etc. The ending chapters will leave you shooketh and wondering what even is real anymore. 50/10 because it feels like an acid trip, man.

The Healer is only one chapter but still worth a read. Hopefully the author will have some time to get back to it because it has a huge potential. 6/10 because I need some healing.

1k is a one shot, featuring Hermione as a therapist and Bellatrix as her patient. Can’t say too much without spoiling it, but despite it’s short length, the author paints a vivid look into Bellatrix’s mind if she was just an insane muggle. 1k/10 because that’s one patient I would never like to meet.

Darkness Underneath I mean, Hermione runs a team of healers, so technically it’s kinda a healer au fic, right? This story looks more in depth at the Death Eaters and dark magic surrounding them. 9/10 is that a dark mark or are you just happy to see me?

TEACHER AU

We all know this is the holy grail au of this fandom and yet there’s only a couple of long stories for this. Someone, write some more!

Fractures A long fic, that has a sequel. Basically, Bellatrix is Hermione’s teacher during a very trying time for Hermione when a competition goes very wrong and dark truths are revealed. Lot’s of action, Bellamione interactions, and overall interesting plot. 8/10 will leave your heart in fractures when you find out the sequel is unfinished.

In the Dead of Night Hermione asks Bellatrix if she can teach her some.....magic and things end up becoming very magical indeed. Bellatrix is the teacher in this story (because who wouldn’t want her as a teacher). It’s a WIP with only a couple of chapters out. 7/10 time to learn some real lessons, Granger ;)

Just a Brand features not only Bellatrix as a professor, but a magical soul mate bond between Bellatrix and Hermione that leads to much deliciousness. There’s a lot of chapters to this story but they’re pretty short. An updated and revised version can be found on a03 for those who like longer chapters. 7/10 Bellamione is branded on my soul.

It Just Felt Right is another fic with Bellatrix as the professor. Hermione starts off hating her and then it evolves into liking Bellatrix. The fic leaves off before any real progress can be made so if anyone is up for reading an unfinished fic from 2012 then go for it. 6/10 for this story feels right but not write because it’s abandoned :(

CRIME AU

Because there is never enough crime involved even with Bellatrix, these authors amp up the trouble and make it double. And gay. So very gay.

Two Sides of the Same Coin where Bellatrix is basically an auror. It’s only five chapters and it hasn’t been updated in a long time but it’s an interesting concept worth checking out. 9/10 wish there were more sides to the coin.

Murder Most Horrid A crime story, where Bellatrix is a magical cop and Hermione is a murder suspect. Bellatrix interrogates Hermione by banging her and then the two of them proceed to basically get married the day after. A bit ooc for Bellatrix but very in character if you consider this world not from the canon. -89/10 for how badly your vision will deteriorate if you try to read this all in one night.

The Mysterious Department Technically Bellatrix and Hermione are both magical detectives and they go and solve crimes and shit while also possibly trying to prevent the world from ending. You know, just casual stuff. 10/10 for the perfect crime, would commit again.

Darkness is Falling A story that has Hermione as an auror who replaces Bellatrix’s old partner. They butt heads, they solve cases, and naturally, begin to fall in love. 7/10 for this case is closed.

Some Things Aren’t Seen Hermione investigates Bellatrix’s crimes and past and ends up over her head. There are two follow ups to this finished work, all in the same vein. It’s all a good bit of fun watching Hermione try to take on the criminal Lestrange. 7/10, no, this has no relation to the musical Wicked.

SOUL MATE BOND

In one way or another Bellatrix and Hermione have a special bond in between them that destines them to be together. Angst, love, friendship, all abound in this au type. Features a combination of other factors thrown in, but the stories put in here are largely advertised in the blurb as more focused on the bond.

Lotus Flower Hermione finds out after Bellatrix’s death that they are bound together and that because Bellatrix is dead, Hermione is dying as a result too. This begs the question, will Hermione go back in time and save Bellatrix, or will she willingly submit to the bond’s curse? 8/10 I think we all know what Hermione chooses.

Our Mercurial Selves ever wonder what it would be like to have a murderer share your mind? In this one, Hermione and Bellatrix can communicate telepathically with each other, creating a bond that draws them together. Features evil schemes by Voldemort, a flying horse, and Narcissa beating the ever loving shit out of Bellatrix for even daring to breathe in Hermione’s direction. 9/10 will leave you with warm fuzzies for the Malfoy family before the ending crushes you.

The House Ring Bellatrix sends Hermione a magical ring that engages them and basically makes them wives. Prophecies abound about how Bellamione is meant to be the one and only true pairing. 7/10 for that ring better come with diamonds.

Demons AU

As if Voldemort isn’t scary enough, there are demons and scary things in this au type that will leave you and Voldemort both calling for mommy.

Unsteady Precipice technically also a time traveling fic, except Hermione ends up in an alternative universe. where she tries to change things from happening in the canon world like they did. But will it work? Who knows! Only a few chapters are out so it’s hard to tell where this story will go, but one things for sure, it’ll be good. 9/10 if you don’t pray after reading this the demons will get you.

A Demon in the Mist is also about, gasp, demons! Dangerous things are afoot in this story and Hermione is caught in the middle of it all. It takes part in the same universe as the caught in time series by the same author, but with slight alterations. Unsure if the story will be finished as the author has contemplated leaving fanfic writing. 7/10 can you find the demon in the mist?

MAGICAL CREATURES AU

Technically a category, right? Let’s pretend it is, because there are some stories out there that pit our two ladies as other than human and it’s fun to read about it.

As we Chase the Sun Very Black family centric and features Bellatrix as a big fluffy wolf. What’s not to love? Cuddles, and hair balls, and good times all around. 9/10 would tame that wolf.

Sing to me Your Insanity in which Hermione and Bellatrix are both sirens and will basically die if they don’t do the ol’ frickity frack. This is a long story and the slowburn feels like hellburn but it’s worth the read. 56/10 but you will need earplugs so those sirens don’t seduce you too.

Metamorphosis in which Bellatrix is also a wolf and doesn’t like being stuck with Hermione but gets used to it and basically they’re house wives of London and don’t know it. 8/10 for your mind with undergo metamorphosis from slightly obsessed with Bellamione to even more obsessed.

This Poisoned Blood of Ours vampires, vampires everywhere! Two parts to this series and features a confused Bellatrix and a changing Hermione. 7/10 do you think vampires like steak rare?

Cursed Doll Pretty self explanatory title. Someone ends up as a doll and shenanigans ensue. Won’t say more because it’s only two chapters, but it’s well written and worth a read. 10/10 Chucky? Is that your sister?

Liquid Measure these chapters are thicc boy. Only two chapters but such a good set up and everything. I hope the author is able to update at some point. 10/10 makes me thirsty for more!

My Demons in the Dark Hermione is a ghost. That’s it, that’s the plot. Boo/10 for this not so spooky spirit.

#Harry Potter #Harry Potter Books #Bellamione #Hermione Granger #Bellatrix Lestrange #emma Watson #Helena Bonham Carter #Bellamione fic recs #Fic recs #all gay stories #vampires #wolves #witches #time turner fics

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mcfiddlestan · 3 years

Text

Fic Writer Questions

I'm bored and this was in a note on my phone from forever ago, so I must have been tagged at some point. Apologies to whoever tagged me. 🥴

1) How many works do you have on AO3?

52. Though, I used to have a few more. I deleted a few fics some years ago bc I hated that they were just sitting there unfinished. I was going through a particularly brutal bout of writer's block that affected both my fic writing and my RP writing.

2) What's your total AO3 word count?

720,782. And I was stressing about a 30-page thesis. 😂 (which ended up being over 15,000 words)

3) How many fandoms have you written for and what are they?

I started writing fic in 2000 with *NSYNC, Christina Aguilera, and Backstreet Boys fics. I stopped writing a bit around 2004-2007 (because of a stupid boy) and picked it up again in 2012 after reading some awesome Cherik fics and wanting to write my own FrostIron College AU when I read one that was good, but kind of disturbing. I think I write for one fandom -- Marvel -- but, like different factions of it. FrostIron and WinterFrost mostly, with a dash of Stucky, ThunderFrost, DashingFrost, and WinterIron.

4) What are your Top 5 fics by kudos?

Black Light Special (WinterFrost) - 628 kudos

Can I Bum A Ride? (WinterFrost) - 425 kudos

Empire State of Mind (FrostIrom) - 420 kudos

Dark Side (FrostIron) - 398 kudos

A Worthy Collection (FrostIron) - 309 kudos

5) Do you respond to comments, why or why not?

I really do make an effort to respond to every single comment, even the not-so-nice ones. I want people to know I've seen and read the comment they took the time to post, so even if I just thank them for reading and commenting, I respond.

6) What's the fic you've written with the angstiest ending?

Considering it features two -- count 'em, two! -- major character deaths, it's definitely Empire State of Mind. Though, I'd argue Dark Side is a pretty close second.

7) What's the fic you've written with the happiest ending?

Probably Ghosts That We Knew. It was the final fic in the trilogy that is the Picture Perfect Series. It follows Loki and Tony from when they meet in college and ends 30+ years later.

8) Do you write crossovers? If so, what is the craziest one you've written?

No, not really. And I rarely, if ever, read them. There's no real reason behind it other than I've just never come upon one and thought "ooh I need to read that."

9) Have you ever received hate on a fic?

Yes. I got a lot of hateful messages after I completed Empire State of Mind. People were really angry at me for killing off two major characters. I mean, a lot of the messages were "omg I hate you but I loved this!" kind of vibe. But there were a few that cussed me out and called me names for writing it.

I had some chapters of a Fools Rush In FrostIron AU posted a while ago, in which Loki was a female, the only daughter in both the Odinson and Laufeyson families. Following the storyline of the Matthew Perry/Salma Hayek movie, Loki meets Tony Stark in a bar and gets pregnant from a one night stand. Anyway, I got a lot of messages telling me that Odin's misogyny and mistreatment of Loki was unrealistic -- even though I had literally modeled his behavior after the movie that inspired it. 🤷🏽

I have some prompts done for the 100 Ways to Say ILY writer's block challenge and for one of them, I borrowed the storyline from an episode of Will & Grace when Will's father dies of a heart attack after they have a bad argument where his father basically admits he wished Will wasn't gay so he could have had an easier life. In the epsiode, the fight starts because Will's parents gift his baby blanket to Grace, who is pregnant with her ex-husband's child. Will takes offense, they don't understand why bc he never mentioned wanting children, and a fight ensues. Similarly, in my fic, Frigga and Odin offer a pregnant Natasha (his BFF) Loki's blanket. Some readers did not like this and did not understand why I would write it. In another prompt, one that was literally how my last relationship ended, got some harsh critiques. Those ones hurt especially bc it was such a personal experience I wrote about.

And I actually got into a fight -- like a screaming match -- IRL with my best friend's boyfriend at the time. One of my bestie's friends asked about my fanfiction and I gave them the gist of one of my stories where Loki has a brief relationship with Sif that results in a child and later reconnects with Tony. Later on, Sif offers to be a surrogate for Tony and Loki and eventually births three more children for them. Bestie's boyfriend could not fathom why a woman would purposely get herself impregnated and then give the child away. I tried to explain that this was a thing that a lot of women did IRL -- and some don't even use their own eggs, but the eggs of a woman who cannot conceive; Sif used her own eggs so that all four children were half related (two by Loki, two by Tony). But he just did not believe me and told me I must not be a very good writer. Worst night of my life.

10) Do you write smut?

I was just telling @teadrinkingwolfgirl the other night how when I first started writing fic I did not write sex scenes. It was always inferred or glossed over. When I started writing again in 2012, for FrostIron, it was my first time writing more detailed sex. I cite Jackie Collins as my smut-writing mentor. I've written almost exclusively M/M smut.

11) Have you ever had a fic stolen?

Not that I know of.

12) Have you ever had a fic translated?

Yes! Which is like the best thing ever! A couple of my older fics have been translated to Russian. I have one *NSYNC fic that was made into an audio fic. And someone recently messaged me on ff*net to ask to translate as many of my fics as they can to Spanish. :D

13) Have you ever co-written a fic before?

No, not technically. I've gotten a lot of prompts and ideas from friends and mutuals, and I started reformatting my WinterFrost RP with my ex from 2014-2015 into novel form a while ago. That's tecnically the only thing I've written with someone else and published.

14) What's your all time favorite ship?

I have two that will always, ALWAYS, have my heart and attention. FrostIron (Tony Stark/Loki) and WinterFrost (Bucky Barnes/Loki). They are the two ships that I write the most, read the most, and seek out fanart for the most.

15) What's a WIP that you want to finish but don't think you ever will?

Probably The Flame. It's a fic that starts out ThunderFrost (not related; Asgardian Prince Thor semi-rescues an imprisoned Jotun Prince Loki) but eventually ends up FrostIron. It's the only fic I've ever written that features Loki with both male and female biology. I have a few chapters done but I haven't worked on it in years.

16) What are your writing strengths?

I like to think I write realistic relationships. And I think my dialogue is also realistic and easy to grasp. And I put a lot of humor in between all the angst and hurt.

17) What are your writing weaknesses?

I think I get too detailed with background. I just reread my Picture Perfect series (which I do like once a year), and there are literal paragraphs of background that in Google Docs is like pages and pages. But I want to make sure people understand my characters! LOL

18) What are your thoughts on writing dialogue in other languages in a fic?

I'm a big fan of it. I featured a lot of Norwegian in the Picture Perfect series. And French. I think as long as it flows with the storytelling and it's not forced on the characters it can be really cool. It should be natural. I always leave a translation list at the end of the chapter or explain in-text what was said. Which I think most authors I've read do.

19) What was the first fandom you wrote for?

The Backstreet Boys. LOL. Don't judge. I started writing my own fics after discovering BSB fanfiction written by an author named Mistress Lynz. She wrote a lot of fics about bloodletting, but I really enjoyed the fics where the guys were hooking up with each other behind the scenes, LOL explains why I write mostly M/M now. 😂

20) What's your favorite fic you've written?

They're kind of like my babies so at different times different ones are my faves. But if I really had to pick one, I would say Stay With Me is my favorite. I got some of the most amazing comments on this story from people that found meaning and themes in the story that I didn't even realize I'd put in there. It was one of my first WinterFrost fics I'd posted and the response was more than I could have asked for.

And now I have to tag people! @teadrinkingwolfgirl @incredifishface @incubigirl @rabentochter @marvelswinterfrost and whoever else feels up to it.

xoxo

#fic writer meme #fic writer questions #all my fics #my writing #frostiron #winterfrost #stucky #thunderfrost #winteriron #dashingfrost

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caitybug · 3 years

Text

It may be February but... why not haha.

Below the cut, organized in chronological order, are the fics I wrote in 2020! All put into one place :D. Thank you to everyone who read, kudos’d, commented, beta’d, and supported my writing. It was my first ever year writing fanfiction, and I am so thankful for all the friends I’ve made because of it.

<3 <3

If Not For You

Word count: 92,461 Chapters: 36 Rating: M

Summary:

Simon was born and raised in the midwest, and he thinks he has his life figured out. He has a girlfriend that he feels happy with, is excited to drive for his junior year, and can't wait to get away from his father when he goes away for school.

However, this all changes when his mom dies and he is carted to the east coast to start at a boarding school. Simon then has to deal with having a roommate (who hates him), living with his mother's death, and wanting to be anywhere but where he is.

To add to it all, one day he gets a strange phone call, and he wonders if his mother's death was really an accident at all.

author’s note:

This was my first like actual fic. And my first try at writing something. This fic will always have a special place in my heart because it helped lead me to all the amazing people I now call friends <3

Not only that but it was a bit of therapy for me. (Self insert? In MY fanfiction? More likely than you’d think!)

Anyway, whenever someone comments, leaves kudos, or otherwise acknowledge that the fic exists I get emotional haha. I also have like three playlists for it too haha.

The Heist

Word Count:7456 Rating:T

Summary:

It's the fourth year of the Halloween heist, and Baz is determined to win. He thinks he has it all planned, that he knows Simon Snow through and through.

Despite this, somehow Simon still manages to surprise him.

author’s note:

b99 AU bahaha. Need I say more??

Pay Your Fines, Snow

Word Count: 1524 Rating: T

Summary:

Baz Pitch works at the local library every summer. He's annoyed at kids who run around, people who don't follow directions, and Simon Snow- who can't pay a fine on time.

author’s note

This fic was the first of the fics that sparked all my crazy prompts haha. It was so much fun to do!

There is a wonderful podfic of this made by the amazing and beautiful @xivz, and it also has art now by @peachpit-gabe!! Go check it out here.

A Rebirth

Word Count: 3374 Rating: T

Summary:

Simon and Baz need to finish their presentation for their Art History class. However, Baz also got pulled into watching his younger siblings for the weekend.

Frozen 2, chicken nuggets, sword fights, and themes of Renaissance.

author’s note

I wrote this for the amazing @krisrix as a prompt! It was so much fun to do and I legit wrote the whole thing in like one afternoon and had it looked over and posted it haha. I still feel bad because Kris legit asked for babies and I kicked the babies out at the beginning of the fic LOL.

Coming Together in Three Parts

Word Count: 4639 Rating: M Chapters: 3

Summary:

Three snippets of their lives after Wayward Son.

author’s note:

The summary definitely leaves a lot to be imagined haha. But I decided to pull a @ninemagicks and give a metaphor of threes and I love yous. So it’s three lovely stages after Wayward Son. There’s the I Love You, the moving in, and then a marriage proposal. I was fairly proud of this! And I did this as an exchange fic as well.

The Three Acts of a Wizard

Word Count: 6439 Rating: T

Summary:

Today, Baz is giving Simon a reprieve (or, that's what he is telling Simon.)

Cue a removal of cursed body parts, a grumpy fireplace who *knows* what is happening, and a shrill frizzy-haired friend threatening to poison some scones.

(this is a remix fic for @ninemagicks HMC AU YWSAFS

author’s note:

I wrote this for Nena’s birthday in the summer! Their friendship has meant the world to me, and this story is what I think gave me the gall courage to message them and harass them with 2k word comments/metas haha. If you’ve not read their fic, make sure to do so!

Heaven is a Place on Earth

Word Count: 12,711 Rating: M Chapters: 5 Summary:

Five hours each week. That's all Simon and Baz get.

But we know that's all they need to fall in love...

A San Junipero AU

author’s note:

This fic idea came to me randomly and I literally wrote it in a week. I love it so much, and despite being MCD I think it’s still generally happy (I mean.. they do end up together??) Idk, it has a special place in my heart. And I made @krisrix read Baz with an american accent so... win win haha.

(Un)Sexy Saturday

Word Count: 6157 Rating: M/E Chapters: 9 (they’re different stories each chapter.)

Summary:

Summaries vary by chapter. Overall it’s just a collection of silly stories where sex gets interrupted.

author’s note:

Honestly this series was so fun to do. I need to continue it sometime! From beauty blender butt plugs, to swingers, to garlic allergies... it just makes me laugh haha.

5 Times Simon Wanted a Fistbump, and the 1 Time He Finally Got It

Word Count: 5489 Rating: T Chapters: 6

Summary:

Simon Snow hasn't had a lot of friends in his life. He has Penny, who is great, of course. He has Baz (but does he count as a friend?)

So now, seeing Shepard, he's got a chance at a friend. A bro of sorts.

Simon sees the final hurdle in their friendship to be a fist bump. A simple signal of their friendship.

But how long is it going to take to get it??

5 + 1 Yearning for a Fist Bump.

author’s note:

Simpard. Friendship. And art by @nick-eyre?? Perfection.

A Goblin’s Skull, Maccies, and a Door Handle

Word Count: 2017 Rating: T

Summary:

Simon Snow wakes up in a building he doesn't know, tied up and blindfolded.

Luckily his best bro Shepard is there too.

author’s note:

Wrote this as a little bday treat for @nick-eyre :D. Decided to give Simon a friend who would also lust after goblins with him haha.

One Word, Four Letters, A Lifetime's Worth of Pain: IKEA

Word Count: 2428 Rating: T

Summary:

Baz comes home and notices the house is suspiciously quiet.

When he finds Simon, surrounded by unfinished pieces of furniture, he can't help but ask... why?

Author’s note:

This was written as a birthday gift for @foolofabookwyrm! She is an absolute gem and has never been to IKEA, but now I hope she understands the struggle of building IKEA furniture haha.

The Beat of My Heart

Word Count: 2230 Rating: T

Summary:

Simon is kneeling on the ground, waiting for Baz to come home.

He has a question. One he's wanted to ask for a while.

author’s note:

This was written as a birthday gift for @krisrix! A little proposal fic for the rat king <3 <3

Out of My Mind

Word Count: 10876 Rating: M Chapters: 3

Summary:

Baz and Simon are living their lives, domestic and content. They have a nine-year-old daughter, a Sunday morning routine, and plans to be alone for the first time for a while.

But when a girl who is growing into her powers reads something she shouldn't, they get into a predicament they don't expect.

author’s note:

This was a COE gift for @krisrix! Body Swap! Parents! Married! I tried to do it all for him haha. 2020 was really the year where I was like yeah, let’s write Kris a million fics. And honestly—wouldn’t have it any other way.

Imposter vs Crewmates

Word Count: 754 Rating: T

Summary:

Everyone has their quarantine coping strategies.

Simon tried to bake bread.

Baz watched Twilight.

But Penelope...

She introduced the gang to Among Us.

author’s note:

Look. I’ve no excuses for this lolol. Just thought it’d be silly :D.

The Ethics of Wanting You

Word Count: 1417 Rating: T

Summary:

Simon Snow realized recently that he has a crush on Baz.

Penny suggested he find reasons to spend more time with him, so he suggests a study session for their ethics exam the following day.

(It doesn't go as planned, but the result is very much worth it.)

author’s note:

Birthday gift for @peachpit-gabe <3 <3. Just a cute one shot with snowbaz.

Pumpkin, Let’s Make a Patch

Word Count: 2516 Rating: T

Summary:

Simon Snow is trying to create a neighborhood pumpkin patch.

Baz, unknowingly, rips the pumpkins out of his front lawn.

(How will he make it up to him?)

author’s note:

This was done for the COC. I based it off this cute tiktok series with this kid who rode around on his skateboard and plants pumpkins around his neighborhood.

Weathering the Storm

Word Count: 2248 Rating: T

Summary:

Shepard was nine when he first met a boy he'd learn was Simon Snow.

He was in a ditch crying, and Shepard wasn't sure what to make of him.

This boy lived in his mind until he saw him again years later.

And today, when there's a storm unlike any other in London, he knows who must be at the center of it.

author’s note:

Honestly. This is probably one of my favorite things I’ve ever written. IDK. It’s so short but... I love it. And if you like to listen to fics— @bloodiedpixie did a phenomenal podfic of it! And @nick-eyre did AMAZING art for it too <3.

New Beginnings

Word Count: 2090 Rating: T

Summary:

It's the first New Years Eve after the Christmas that changed everything.

After Simon Snow and Baz kissed.

After they defeated the humdrum.

After the Mage's death.

But, as many of us do, it's time to take the New Year as an opportunity to begin anew.

author’s note:

Part of a server exchange I did for @knitbelove :D.

And, all of the prompts I’ve yet to put on ao3... lolol

#2020 masterpost #Caity did fanfiction #Caity does fanfiction #still #but wow I really DID that y'all #i wrote over 250k last year #YIKES #damn #anyway #this has been great #love you all

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writingfromkitchenator · 3 years

Text

The Demon, The Hunter, and The Halfblood

Hi everyone! Welcome to my latest Crowley project (despite the fact I have several unfinished). This fic is a little experiment on my part as I’m playing with essentially two timelines told throughout the story, so I hope it works/makes sense. I’m having a blast writing it, as I always do with Crowley, but there’s just something special about the two female characters I’ve added in (I love it so much!). These will be posted every Friday. I hope you can all enjoy this too!

Masterlist

Crowley x Original Female Character

Series Warnings: A/B/O series, some Alpha/Beta/Omega dynamics, Alpha x Omega, obligatory smut warning here (as usual, no under 18′s please, specifics will be within chapter warnings as needed), violence, blood, fluff, angst, major character death, possession, swearing

Chapter 1

Words: 1,903

“No,” Crowley said hotly, glaring at the three men in front of him, his foot just before the edge of the devils trap. “You really think I’m going to give you lot anything when you’ve trapped me in this? In all the time you’ve known me, have I ever given anything so willingly?”

“We’re past the point of asking anything Crowley,” Dean snapped. “We’re telling. You’re not going anywhere until you do. You’ve put this off for far too long.”

Crowley snorted. “Is that so? And just exactly what leverage do you have to be able to even think about trying that?”

Sam was watching him though, watching the unease hidden beneath the annoyance, and he knew that something different was going on, something was making him very uncomfortable. “We can keep you here for as long as we need to.”

His assumption was correct when Crowley flinched slightly, quickly covered by a scowl. “What? Not worried about Hell falling apart while I’m not there?”

“No.” Dean and Bobby said together.

“If you just give us an answer Crowley, you can be on your way.” Sam said, ignoring the surprised looks from the other two. “You have to know something, you always know something.”

“Because I’ve actually got brains on what I do with that information Moose,” Crowley snarled, rolling his eyes. “And the last thing I’m currently going to do, is give that to you. Now, if we’re done with this little conversation, I have matters much more important-”

“We’re not done here,” Dean said. “As Sam said, we’ll leave you here for as long as we need to before you tell us what we want to know.”

The frustration was starting to show in Crowley’s expression. “Do you even realise what I have at stake here? The longer you leave me like this, the worse it gets, and frankly, I’d much rather not let it get to that point.”

“What’s that even supposed to mean?” Bobby asked. “What can be worse than running Hell?”

Crowley huffed impatiently, his eyes flashing. “That is none of your business. That is between Madelyn and I, and it’s been perfectly kept under wraps for the last four years so-”

Crowley froze and an odd silence fills the room.

“Bollocks.” He mutters under his breath, seeing their confused expressions, and he quickly straightens his suit out, brushing away some imaginary dirt. “What are the mullet expression for? I think I’ve made myself clear.”

“Madelyn?” Dean asked quietly, a quiet anger hidden in his voice. “As in our sister, my twin, Madelyn?”

“Madelyn’s dead,” Bobby said carefully, but there was pain and anger building in his expression. “Are you telling me that she’s been made a demon?”

Crowley sighed heavily, knowing that he’d messed up and there was no way out this, but still, he stayed silent, trying to hope that there was a way out of this.

“You son of a bitch!” Dean snapped, walking forward, pulling an angel blade off of his belt. “What the hell have you-”

“I haven’t,” Crowley snapped, unfazed by Dean’s approach. “And she is very much alive and well, if you really must know, still perfectly human. She is absolutely going to kill me for letting you find out.”

“Why?” Sam asked, breaking the silence from the other two, Dean and Bobby still trying to process this. “We saw her die, we burned her!”

Crowley rolled his eyes. “No, you saw and burned what I wanted you to see and burn, carefully organised by Madelyn and I. Now, if you’ll be so kind, I am well overdue to go back, or are you actually going to still ignore that?”

“You’re not going anywhere,” Dean said quickly. “Instead, you’re going to tell us where the hell she is so we can go and pick her dumb arse up.”

“I don’t think so,” Crowley clipped. “And for your information, she’s certainly smarter than any of you.”

Bobby’s eyes narrowed on him. “I feel like I’m pointing out the obvious here, but why are you willingly working with a Winchester? Especially Madelyn. You two despise each other.”

The uncomfortableness in the room grew and Crowley cleared his throat a little. “That is between Madelyn and I.”

“Oh you bastard!” Sam and Bobby quickly grab Dean to pull him back. “You son of a-”

“Is that really the best insult you have?” Crowley asked tiredly. “It does get rather old.”

Sam and Bobby dragged Dean from the room, leaving Crowley more than annoyed and agitated as the door shuts behind them, starting to pace in the trap.

“Bloody bastards,” He growled, pulling his phone out of his jacket and going to Madelyn’s name, starting to type a message. “Why is it only urgent when it’s for them? It’s not like lives aren’t at stake here.”

Dumb and Dumber have found out darling and I’m a little stuck. You may have to move soon on your own.

Crowley stared at his phone and the longer he went without a reply, the more the panic began to set in. His feet carried him back and forth in the circle and he could feel tension setting in along his neck and jaw, his teeth grinding.

Surely it couldn’t be worse than he thought?

Madelyn, some sort of response would be nice?

But his phone remained obstinately silent and a cold feeling sunk low into his stomach.

“Hey!” He called loudly, not bothering to hide the note of panic in his voice, just wanting to get this sorted and quickly. “If you idiots are done, I really need to go! Something is wrong!”

It was Sam that answered the door, eyeing Crowley with an odd suspicion. “What is wrong?”

“None of your business,” Crowley snapped. “But you need to let me go so I can go and sort it out!”

“No,” Sam said, shaking his head. “You’re going to tell us where Maddie is and we’re going to go and get her. This doesn’t need to concern you any further Crowley. This is our family and we’ll deal with it.”

Crowley was a little glad that he was trapped in circle, otherwise there wouldn’t currently be much left of Sam. “Your sister’s life is in danger, is that not enough for you? I’m the only one that can get there quick enough to intervene with whatever is going on. Be reasonable!”

Sam stared at him for a long moment, a small look of confusion coming to him as he observed him. “Then let us handle it, it may even give Dean enough time to calm down. After all you’ve done, that’s reasonable enough.”

Crowley’s phone turned over and over in his hand, still remaining silent, and he knew that he was quickly running out of options. “Look, I’ve never asked you boys for much,” He ignored Sam’s raised eyebrow. “But give me this. Please.”

“You know I can’t do that Crowley,” Sam said. “Now, we can keep going around in circles or you can give me that address.”

Crowley hated it all, hated it with every fibre of his being, and he silently swore that he’d get the three of them back for this, especially if, and his silent phone and gut was telling him so, something had happened. They just weren’t going to understand.

Angrily, he told Sam the address and then went silent, refusing to say anything else until he knew what was happening with Madelyn.

“Are you going to be right here Bobby?” Sam asked as he and Dean jumped into the Impala.

“Did you forget who built that?” Bobby asked. “You boys just go and make sure that your sister is okay. I can deal with whatever Crowley has planned, if anything.”

It was clear as they drove that Dean was still furious, Sam often casting him a glance but it was some time before he was game enough to break the silence.

“So, who are you angry at more?” Sam asked as calmly as he could.

Dean let out a huff. “Honestly, both of them.” Sam waited and Dean eventually snapped again. “Madelyn had no right to fake her death and Crowley certainly had no bloody right to keep it from us, no matter what the hell was going on. If he’s so much as laid any sort of finger on her then I’m going to be back here sooner than he make any sort of annoying arse comment and beat his arse in!”

Sam grimaced, having a growing, sinking feeling that he knew what was going on, but deciding it was better to lie to Dean when he was like this. “I’m sure it’s nothing like that.”

There was no missing the side long glance from Dean. “Don’t pull that Beta shit on me Sam, Madelyn’s crossed the line now. We may have done some stupid shit to each other, but this takes the cake man, it really does.”

Sighing, Sam shakes his head. “All I’m saying Dean, is that there’s no point in going Alpha until we know what’s going on. Madelyn’s never been the simple Omega type, we’ve known that all her life, and she’s hardly going to take any shit from Crowley, whatever he’s got over her.”

Dean growled. “Right.”

“Dean-”

“Just drop it Sam,” Dean said. “Let’s get there and find out what’s going on from her.”

Sam sighs and gives a small laugh. “Right. She’s always the talkative type.”

When they pulled up outside a house several hours later, Dean’s mood worsened, getting out of the Impala and slamming the door, uncaring of what attention he drew. “Maddie!”

Silence greeted the two of them and Sam just rolled his eyes at Dean as he hurried up the front steps ahead of him, banging on the door. “Madelyn!”

As Sam walked up the steps as well, Dean peaked through the glass on the side of the door. Almost instantly his gun was in his hand.

“What is it?” Sam asked, drawing his own gun.

“The house has been ransacked,” Dean said. “Do you wanna see if you can get in the back?”

They both managed to pick the locks and walk in, guns raised, but apart from the ticking of a clock and their own footsteps, the house was empty and quiet.

“Shit,” Dean said. “What the hell is going on?”

“Let’s check upstairs,” Sam said, taking the lead, glass crunching under his feet, trying to ignore the mass of broken items and furniture, his heart racing a little. “Maybe whoever was here left something behind?”

“Or hopefully Maddie did.” Dean said following. “Something is not right here Sam.”

“I hate to say Crowley warned us,” Sam said. “But-”

“Don’t finish that sentence man,” Dean said, pushing past Sam to check the other end of the hallway. “I’m already dreading telling him that Maddie is-”

Dean goes silent for a moment as he opens the last door, whatever he was seeing sinking in. Sam’s about to ask what was going on when-

“Son of bitch!” Dean spat, fury in voice. “I’m going to kill both of them!”

Sam frowns, reaching Dean and looking over his shoulder to see what was getting him so angry. His stomach sunk when he saw the pinks, purples and blues that filled the room, a pile of soft toys in the corner, and a bed that had all but been torn apart.

“Ah.”

#supernatural #the demon the hunter and the halfblood #crowley #crowley x original female character #long fic #fic series #crowley fridays #sister winchester #alpha x omega #a/b/o

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aquaquadrant · 4 years

Text

ravenous red

Star Wars: The Clone Wars fanfic Rating: T Warnings: Graphic descriptions of violence, injury, blood, death Summary:

i heard you wanted a war funny, i wanted it more

~*~

So he says nothing, letting his gaze speak his hate as he relents, turning and walking away. It feels like disgrace, it feels like a failure, to go do her bidding- go cause some chaos, she taunts- but real victory lies in that which she does not yet know. Good at it, sure, he can admit as much, but the means to the end will be something she doesn’t expect. That’s how he’ll get her, collateral damage in this personal storm he directs.

At her request.

Lady Tano, you don’t know what you’ve just asked for.

A/N: I know I said my last oneshot was my tribute to the Clone Wars, but then I heard a song that fit Maul perfectly so I had to do a tribute to him too. It’s actually a song fic, I’ve been writing fanfic since I was 13 but this is my first song fic so hopefully I did it right. This is basically Order 66 from Maul’s POV, showing off how much of a spiteful, unhinged badass he really is. Hope you enjoy, reblogs/comments are appreciated! – Aqua

Song is Appetite for Destruction by Vo Williams

Click here to read on Archive of Our Own

Click here to support me on Ko-fi

~*~

ravenous red

It starts with a scream.

Ringing out through the force like a shot, chaos crashing in after it. Words pass in flashes, snippets he can’t quite decipher. The impressions of feelings brush against him; shock, betrayal, desperation. He feels the flicker of lightning, a bygone but familiar sensation. Someone somewhere has made a very poor choice, one that will echo for ages, one that he expected.

(He did try and warn them)

It’s not long before they come. Identical faces behind identical helmets approach without words. They are rigid, unflinching, as they move to lower the shield that protects him, ensnares him, with unspoken intent written plainly as anything else.

Any lingering sympathy he has for these beings, these clones that were raised to be tools- as was he- dissipates like mist in the sun. To think, they would kill him like this. Trapped and defenseless. A coward’s method of choice; it insults him, right to the core. Let him out, let him fight, he’ll give them a show. He’ll remove the spines they don’t deserve. They aren’t using them anyway.

The death in the air is a pulse in his brain, a constant crashing and ebb of bloody waves. It’s hard to concentrate, hard to mediate between what’s happening right in front of him and what’s happening lightyears away. The force is a furnace, thousands of bodies toppling into it to burn. It devours them gladly, wiping out light from the sky to leave nothing but smoke and ash in return.

He wants to join in, wants to destroy. Not a Sith, not quite, but he hunts like one still. The darkness beckons for him, a familiar cold, coursing through his veins. Yellow eyes glare through glass, burning with hatred and rage. He’d kill them, if only he could. He wants them to know it. He wants them to feel it.

If looks could kill, they’d already be dead.

this is the end of your days it's time we end the charades open the cage, i want to play time for the bridges to blaze

Blasters are raised- but cut down just as quickly.

His savior is a flash of blue. Unexpected but welcome (though he prefers red). Her hostility is unsurprising, her fear concealed well- but not completely. She feels the same death he does, but it frightens her, whereas it only strengthens his resolve. He will not fall as the Jedi do. He loathes the thought; there is too much unfinished business for him to perish now.

(Kenobi will survive this because Maul must be the one to kill him, no one else, he wills this with every fiber of his being- and will is a powerful thing, will allowed him to survive being cleaved in half)

Between the two of them, everything falls into place. His master’s plan, beautiful and deadly. Brilliant and artful. Cowardly and despicable. To strike them down with the men who were created to serve, to protect. They’re nothing but droids now, mindless droids coated in flesh. It doesn’t matter to him; he’d kill either way, but he knows that she won’t.

It’s good that she’s come to him, he’ll do it for her, do what must be done to get them out alive-

Except, no.

She rejects him. She wants to strike out on her own, condemn him to the same lonely fate. It’s foolish. So blinded by her lofty morals that she fails to grasp they’re both members of the same dying breed. The Padawan who might’ve joined him has retreated far beneath the surface, hiding under a cloak of denial at the vision he sees. Her attachment is strong, too strong, that she cannot accept the truth even when given freely.

How dare she? How dare she?! Dare to use him and cast him aside, as so many others before- always remember that you are nothing- this child in a warrior’s mask, thinking he’ll act as her pawn. No, not anymore.

Oh, he’ll kill her. He’ll kill her for that. So many ways to do it, weapon or no. Reach out a hand, reach for the force, strangle the breath from her lungs, crushing her throat in his grasp. In this moment, he hates so greatly he truly thinks that he could. Crush her throat, or crush her skull, he wants to, grab her head and smash it against the wall. Red dripping down lekku of blue and white, a striking image it’d make, to be sure. He always did have an eye for these things.

He wants to see it.

i'm slipping into a craze twisted images into the brain turn up the volume on the pain give me the feeling i crave

But no.

Logic and reason win out. They dictate he cannot waste time on the likes of her. She proved a difficult fight before and his chances are slim as they are. Save his energy, save his effort for the real battle to come, for the ones who march to the tempo of death and come for him next, they’ll come for him just as well as for her.

Neither of them are Jedi but he knows they will not see it as so.

In the end that’s all that matters, how they will see you, how they perceive you, all the words in the world make no difference at all. Words do nothing, only action can produce results, as he’s clearly been shown.

At her request.

Lady Tano, you don’t know what you’ve just asked for.

show me your villainous ways show me the killer's awake make me afraid that's how you bring me to life make the adrenaline race i want a taste

i feel my rage erupting feed my appetite for destruction blood rushing i love when you feed my appetite for destruction

Alone, he persists.

His path’s uncontested, legs of metal storming heavy and loud through the ship, not trying to hide. Let them come, he’ll be ready. This aggression needs somewhere to go, after all. It’s burning him up inside. He knows intimately what it’ll do to him, if he won’t let it out. The anger, the pain. It seeks to devour, a ravenous red haze flowing through him, taking control of his brain.

It guides him and he lets it. His stalk is a predator’s stalk, single-minded focus on the hunt. He’s not afraid. They’ll see they aren’t the only executioners at work today.

They find him quickly, scattered through the ship as they are, and greet him with a volley of fire. Metal bends to his will, peeling away like skin off of flesh. Weapons or no, he’s been given a task. He can be creative. The true measure of a warrior lies not in their blade. To wield power, he needs only to look within and ask.

The very walls of their ship become the instruments of their demise. He lifts without effort, advancing slowly but surely with an unbroken stride. Walls to deflect their shots, to smash them aside, to cut through armor, through flesh, and through bone. Two heads roll off with a thrust of his arm, slack faces concealed in their helms. Bodies crushed in between, crumbling limp to the floor. A sharp flick of the wrist pins one to the wall, sliced in half- the irony is not lost on him, but humor has no place here, in this tomb.

And finally, they make their retreat, aiming to seal him inside. But no, he’s not done with them yet. There’s something he needs and he’s not asking politely.

The arm comes off in the end, the vital comm-link still attached to the bracer. He slips it on, leaving the limb to bleed red on the floor, staining the armor- and he was right, what a striking image it makes. But he can’t linger long.

Chatter through the communicator gives him his next target.

Chaos… really, she should have been more specific.

i heard you wanted a war funny, i wanted it more here comes the "bang-bang" on your door it's time to back up the noise i've been ignoring the voice begging me seek and destroy it's eating my core feel like a time bomb in the eye of a storm

He makes it to the engine room without interruption.

It’s cavernous, the floor far below, a pit spanned by narrow bridges. It’s protected, as he expected, clones charge to stop him but they matter not. Their efforts are wasted. Over the edge they go; others fall to commandeered blaster fire, or to his fists. He will succeed by any means. It’s futile of them to resist.

(They can’t help it, he knows, but he doesn’t care- he wants their blood anyways)

The dark side has never flowed more strongly within him. It’s a wellspring inside his chest, filling him completely with inky black cold. Their will is one and the same; burn it all. He reaches out, power surging, fueling his rage as it takes hold. All around him, machinery falls. Sparks rain down from above as reactors are peeled off the walls.

He’ll tear them apart from within. Metal shrieks and groans as he pries it away. The ship’s hyperdrive core is his aim. Without it, they’re stranded. Him as well, but he’s not planning to stay. There must be shuttles, and nothing will get in his way.

The doors part, and another squadron advances to stop him- but they’re too late. He topples the reactors on top of them and down it all goes, crashing to the floor far below, sealing their fate.

And with that, it’s time to take his leave.

let all the chips hit the floor do everything that you want settle the score that's how you bring me to life that's when I'm feeling recharged i want it all

i feel my rage erupting feed my appetite for destruction blood rushing i love when you feed my appetite for destruction

The flight deck is a battlefield.

She’s here- but of course- attempting to hold off the rest of the forces, their volley of fire. Somehow, someway, she’s pulled one to her side. Her little captain fights bravely, but there’s too many, it won’t be enough.

He senses opportunity, another chance perhaps to make her see. Come to her aid now and she’ll have no choice but to accept. Offer survival; a joint escape from this wreckage for her and her dog (though he cares not for three). Two are better than one, even if two is the way of the Sith, which he’s not. Their chances are better together. He knows this. He feels this.

Except, no.

She already had her chance, she had three. She rejected him. She scorned him. She cast him aside. You lie, she told him. Your vision is flawed. Arrogant. Stubborn. He hates her. He hates her.

Within a second, his choice is made. He runs past, towards the ship that would be her salvation- now it’s his. She pursues, he deflects; a dangerous dance. The world’s falling around them, and still they cannot help but fight- it’s in her nature, in her nature as well as in his.

You wanted this chaos, he taunts.

Then, without mercy, he pushes her over the edge.

i feel the monster rising up inside and i can't hold it down i'm hungry for destruction pieces crumbling, fall into the ground

i feel my rage erupting feed my appetite for destruction blood rushing i love when you feed my appetite for destruction

She’s still alive when he leaves.

His ship arcs away from the crash, plowing through smoke and fire. The entire carrier is doomed, every last soul aboard sharing its fate. Escape pods destroyed, no more ships to salvage. Surely, then, this is their end- but not his.

(He did tell them they’d all burn; but while some burn in fire, others burn with it)

There’s no remorse in his escape. It’s a measure of strength; only he was enough to get out alive. He cares not for her, for how she will burn. She deserves it. In fact, he’d say out of all the beings on that ship, she’s the only one. The droids-who-were-clones cannot ‘deserve’ a fate either way. Every action is the command of somebody else, not their own.

A great victory for his master. The thought curls his lip. But he’ll count his blessings; he survived, and as the galaxy is reshaped, he knows that he has all the skills required to thrive. A tool he might be, but a sharp one. A deadly one.

His master saw to that. He should thank him. Maybe he will- before he kills him.

As for her... the possibility lingers that she might’ve survived as well. Resourceful. Determined. He sensed these traits in her. But he truly hopes that she hasn’t, that the firestorm has swallowed her whole. Not for his sake, but hers. Because if she survived, then the next time he sees her- and he will, if she has- she won’t be so lucky simply to burn.

He will kill her slowly, painfully. Unimaginable agony. Broken in body and mind. Enough to beg for death. Enough to understand what he’s felt, the culmination of all his suffering- truly, a fate to wish on no one.

Best to be taken in fire and chaos.

Lady Tano, isn’t that what you wanted?

i feel my rage erupting feed my appetite for destruction blood rushing i love when you feed my appetite for destruction

~*~

#star wars the clone wars #swtcw #clone wars season 7 #darth maul #tcw spoilers #my writing

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moonb-eam · 5 years

Note

I loved the skate park one shot you did with Robbe and Eliott! It was adorable 😍. I can actually picture Eliott and Sander being friends! Or brothers / cousins as I have seen others say in the wtfock tag. I would love to see a Sander/ Eliott fic of some kind as friends or family! Maybe Sander could go to Eliott and Lucas for advice cause he thinks he really messed up and he has no idea how to fix this! Or something? ... I love everything you write and I just want to see them interact! ❤️

okay, here’s the dealio, anon.

i have so many other prompts to fill but since i first saw this ask i kept thinking about it. it just wouldn’t let me go, because firstly, i had no idea that people were talking in the tags about eliott and sander being friends or cousins, which blew my damn mind what a Concept

but secondly, one of the main reasons i started posting skam france fan fiction was as a coping mechanism for shit that was going on in the show that made me angry and sad

this is all to say, i took the prompt and wrote 3.7k with it ✨

hope you like 🧡

He thinks about him, and the charcoal in his hand slips, a slow, even curve that goes jagged, a thick black line breaking his canvas in half.

He wants to knock the canvas to the ground. He wants to tear it to pieces. He wants to ignite it with a match.

The skin over his eye still pulls, the bruise along his cheekbone still stings.

Everything fucking hurts.

Sander drops his piece of charcoal down to the easel and turns away from the canvas, running his hands up the back of his head and scrubbing them through his hair, not caring that he’s getting black fingerprints stuck in the bleached strands.

He can’t even draw. That’s been taken away from him, too.

Not taken away. There’s a voice in his head, a voice that sounds like rocks against windows and cracking ice. This hasn’t been stolen from you, you lost it didn’t you, you lost him, you lost your heart, you lost your mind—

He doesn’t stop walking until he reaches the far wall of the empty studio, leaning his forehead against cold glass, his body slumping forwards. He tries to take deep, even breaths, tries to find something to centre himself on, but when he closes his eyes all he sees is Robbe.

He dreamt about him last night, about the space at the base of his neck, right above his collarbone. He dreamt about pressing his face into that spot, surrounded by soft, warm skin and that clean cotton smell that’s always attached to Robbe’s clothes. He dreamt about feeling the vibrations of Robbe’s gentle laughter under his cheek, about Robbe running his hands through his hair and saying, Sander. I love you.

He woke up sweating, tangled in threadbare sheets, faced with the early-morning blackness of Antwerp. He’d wanted nothing more than to sink back into that dream, and to never leave it.

Being awake is a curse.

He takes another breath, pressing his forehead further into the glass and he’s listing off different shades of black in his head to try to find something to focus on, and it’s working, a bit.

pure black, onyx, eigengrau, xiketic

“Sander?”

He startles, knocking the side of his head against the wall as he stumbles back, whipping around to the studio doorway.

That French guy is standing there. The exchange student. The one with the annoyingly perfect blending technique.

Eliott, his brain supplies.

Eliott has one hand gripping onto the strap of his backpack and he’s staring at Sander with his eyebrows furrowed, his mouth turned down at the corners.

“Is everything okay?” He asks, then bites down on his lip, regretful, like he knows there’s only one possible answer to that question when you find someone collapsing into a wall in an empty studio on a Friday afternoon.

Sander blinks. “I didn’t think anybody would still be here,” he says flatly.

Eliott shrugs. “Yeah, well.” He gestures vaguely to the hallway behind him. “I had to finish some stuff and I needed lots of space for it…” Then he grins, bouncing on the spot. “And anyway I have to wait for Lucas. He’s coming here from the train station.”

Right. Lucas. The famous boyfriend back in Paris.

His name is Lucas, Sander heard him gushing to Greta one day in class, excitedly scrolling through the camera roll on his phone. He’s a science student, still in Lycée. He’s amazing. He’s so smart and funny, and he’s so thoughtful, but he doesn’t always let people know that.

Out of curiosity, Sander had craned his neck forward to see the screen of Eliott’s phone. And yeah, not bad. Cute. Really cute, actually, with wide, clear eyes and a full, teasing smile. But, personally, Sander has always preferred brown eyes over blue.

“Right,” he says to Eliott, and he doesn’t know what else to do, so he walks back to his easel, taking his canvas down and propping it up in the corner of the room reserved for unfinished works.

There’s the sound of a phone going off and Sander turns towards it, heart soaring, but he sees Eliott pulling his phone out of his pocket and he’s smiling down at the screen, rapidly typing out a reply, and Sander's heart sinks back down to the bottom of the ocean. He crouches to the ground and gathers his charcoal back into its box, securing it with an elastic band, his face burning.

What was he even expecting? Why would Robbe message him when he knows, he knows Robbe saw Britt’s Instagram post, and he heard Robbe was at that party which means he saw them together and he must hate him but that was what Sander wanted, wasn’t it?

“Hey. Sander.”

Sander glances up from where he’s packing his bag and Eliott is staring back at him, tapping his phone against his chest.

“I don’t want to be…prying. But you, uh, you seem like you’re having a hard time right now. So, if you want to talk about it, we can. Talk about it. And if you don’t want to, then…we don’t have to.”

Eliott is fumbling through this speech, giving it in stops and starts of heavily-accented English but he holds Sander’s eyes the entire time, and Sander has always respected straightforward people, but more than anything else, he’s struck by the care colouring Eliott’s words into soft pastels across the harsh white of the studio, the concern painted clearly across his face in shades Sander had forgotten existed.

He really doesn’t know the last time someone worried about him.

Apart from Robbe.

This is why, while Sander’s first instinct would normally be to make a lame joke or change the subject completely, instead he sits back on his heels, takes a deep breath and asks, “Did you ever…hurt anyone?”

Eliott tilts his head. “Because you tried too hard not to?”

“No. Because you meant to.”

Now there’s something dawning behind Eliott’s eyes, something that looks a bit like reluctant understanding. Or, perhaps, undesirable understanding.

Eliott asks, “Does this have something to do with that boy? The one that came at the end of class.”

For all that Sander’s brain has thought of nothing but Robbe, Robbe, Robbe for weeks, it’s nearly impossible for him to say his name aloud. “Yeah. Robbe.”

He doesn’t think he deserves to say it. The word is too sweet on his tongue. It tastes too much like the last time he said it, when Robbe was swaying towards him on his bar stool and flashes of blue and purple light were playing tag across his face and he was so beautiful, so delicate and so mesmerizing and somehow, impossibly, he was Sander’s.

He was.

Eliott sighs, and leans against the doorframe, his backpack sliding down his arm to the floor.

“It never works the way you think it will.”

Sander’s head snaps up. Eliott is staring at a spot just over his shoulder. There’s a faint line between his eyebrows.

“At one point,” Eliott says at length, “I didn’t think I could ever have what I have with Lucas. I didn’t think that sort of thing was meant for someone like me.”

“That sort of thing.” Sander echoes dubiously.

Eliott’s eyes snap over to him. “Love.” He says simply. “Being in love. Being loved. Without any, uh…” He waves a hand out, searching for the word. “Inconditionnel.”

“Unconditional.” Sander nods. “Yeah. It’s similar in English.” He sees a loose thread in the knee of his jeans and he tugs at it, tearing a hole open at the seam. He’s hoping Eliott will keep going, will give him something solid to latch onto, but he seems to be waiting Sander out now, like he knows Sander’s only given him the prologue to the story.

Sander wants to tell him. And he doesn’t want to. Because saying it aloud will make it more real, in a way. It’s as if, as long as the words stay buried inside of him, there’s still a chance that this is a dream Sander will wake up from, and when he wakes up he’ll be a different version of himself. One who’s normal and can love and be loved like a normal person and won’t have a built-in self destruct button.

“I…” He keeps his eyes fixed on the hole in his jeans, pulls harder on the thread. “I hurt him. Because I needed him to hate me.”

Eliott’s voice is very soft when he asks, “Why?”

“Because being with me…it was ruining his life.” The words feel dramatic coming out and Sander drops the thread, falls back onto his ass and throws his arms out, palms flat. “I know how that sounds, but it’s true. He was so messed up from kissing me that he…he said shitty things. He said he thought I drugged him, as if I could ever—and then, then, we, one night we went out and we…” Without even realizing it, Sander’s hand has drifted up to his eye. He lowers his hands to his thighs, digging into the muscle there. “Something happened. Something that was really bad and he got hurt and I. I can’t see him hurt like that. Ever again.” He drops his head to his knee, eyes shut tightly. “From the moment he met me, his life went to shit. I was ruining him. I was.” He doesn’t realize he’s crying until his voice breaks on the last word and there’s something wet sliding down to the tip of his nose and he wipes it across his jeans, coughing to try and mask the sound.

God what a fucking mess Sander has made. He’s fucked with everything good in his life and now he’s crying in front of a French guy he barely knows and it’s all just…a fucking mess. There’s no way out.

“D’accord.” Eliott says quietly from his post at the door. Sander hears him shifting on the spot, then his phone buzzing in his pocket, and for a brief moment, Sander hates him. He hates his buzzing phone, hates how Eliott gets to wait for someone and Eliott gets to message someone and Eliott will get to kiss someone today, probably. Someone he loves. Someone who loves him. The jealousy is a violent flash of lightning that surges through him, makes his fingers tremble.

It makes him spit the rest out coldly, bitterly, pure black tar from between his teeth.

“We were victims of a hate crime.” He says. “These two guys, they saw us kissing and they beat the shit out of us, left us on the street. And do you know what I did? I abandoned him. When he really needed me. I got back together with my girlfriend. I stopped responding to his messages. I let him see that we’re back together.” He laughs and the sound hurts on its way out. “He must wish he never met me.”

He’s expecting Eliott to leave at this, to realize this is way more fucked up than he thought it would be when he first decided to play the caring classmate. Maybe he’ll shoot Sander a look of disgust for good measure. What he’s not expecting is for Eliott to take a step away from the wall, a step towards Sander, his face marred with worry.

“Wait. What the fuck. A hate crime? Did you report it to the police?”

It sucks the lightning storm out of Sander’s veins, that worry. His head drops down on his shoulders.

“It wouldn’t do anything.” He says. I can’t, he doesn’t say. I’ve been in the wrong place at the wrong time before and it’s not good for me, he doesn’t say.

Eliott is shaking his head. “It would. Saying it out loud means it happened. It’s real.”

And fuck if Eliott isn’t tapped directly into Sander’s head. It makes him shiver.

“I’m so sorry.” Eliott says. “No one should ever have to experience that.”

Before Sander realizes what’s happening, Eliott is coming over, he’s kneeling down onto the floor in front of him and he’s pulling him into an awkward, long-armed hug, and he’s saying it again, “I’m so sorry.”

Out of every possibility Sander considered for this conversation, he didn’t imagine this.

It’s like his body can’t decide if it wants to pull away or fold in closer, locking up in indecision and leaving his arms hanging limply at his sides.

He hates that a relative stranger is comforting him like this, seeing him so broken and vulnerable, so laid bare, but at the same time it feels so fucking good to be held, to be looked after, that he doesn’t ever want the hug to end.

Then Eliott is the one pulling away, planting his hands on Sander’s shoulders.

“I’m sorry,” he says again, in a rush, “I shouldn’t have done that without asking. But it really looked like you needed it.”

Sander stares at him. He thinks his mouth might be hanging open.

Eliott squeezes his shoulders. “You need to know: what happened to you wasn’t your fault. You didn’t do anything to cause it, and you did nothing to deserve it.” Eliott blinks and his own eyes are wet. Sander looks down to break his gaze, everything feeling to raw and too wrought for him to handle.

All he can say is, “Yeah. Well. Maybe.”

“And you should know,” Eliott continues, “that you’re not helping him by deciding he’s better off without you. You can’t decide for other people what will make them happy. You can’t decide what’s good for them.” He drops his hands from Sander’s shoulders, and falls back, mirroring Sander’s posture. “I tried that, with Lucas. I tried to push him away because I thought he would better off without having to deal with me. I thought he wouldn’t be able to handle what being with me is really like.”

Sander shifts on the spot, a bit uncomfortably, because there’s that feeling again. It’s like Eliott can see the inside of his head, can take the tangled web of his thoughts and unravel it to something tangible. Flawed and tragic, but true.

“I didn’t trust him.” Eliott says. “I underestimated him, which is something I did a lot in the beginning.” A small smile pulls at the corner of his mouth. “But he keeps surprising me.”

“How could I ever fix this?” The words pour out of Sander in frustration, curling around his face like smoke. “I’ve fucked up too much. Too much to be forgiven.”

“Robbe may surprise you, too.”

Fuck.

The very idea of it, of seeing Robbe again, of explaining himself to him, of Robbe forgiving him.

The very idea of being able to hold him again.

It sets Sander afire from the inside out.

“You need to be completely honest with him.” Eliott says. His phone buzzes in his pocket and he slowly stands from his spot on the ground, brushing off the back of his jeans. “And with yourself. You need to show him how you feel but you also need to tell him. You need to make it right. For both of you.” Eliott bends down to retrieve his backpack. “And Sander…” He pauses. “Maybe it’s not my place to say this, but I think you really need to report that attack. Together.”

Sander feels a bit like crying, and a bit like laughing, inappropriately enough. There’s too much happening inside of his head, there is always is, but it’s too much in a way that feels like being awake is necessary. It’s important.

“How did you do that?” Sander asks, staring up at Eliott. “How did you know exactly what to say to me? You don’t even know me.”

Eliott smiles, and it’s sweet and bitter. “Maybe, but I think we’re very similar, actually. I think we both try to…hm. Comportement autodestructeur.”

“Self-destructive.” Sander fills in automatically.

Eliott nods. “We are both like that, and it made us lose the best parts of ourselves. Lucas, he fought for me. He fought for us, and so we found each other again. I don’t want to imagine what it would be like for me if he hadn’t. I don’t want to imagine that for you either, if Robbe makes you feel the same way Lucas makes me feel. So. You have to fight for him. That is what I’m saying.”

Sander digs the heels of his hands into his eyes. “Jesus Christ.”

“I don’t mean to—”

“No.” He cuts Eliott off, pushing himself up from the ground. He’s shaky as he tries to stand. “No, it’s. You’re right. I know you are. It’s just a lot.” He takes a long, deep breath, and he’s listing off shades of brown in his head for something to focus on, something to keep him from crumpling back down to the ground.

chestnut, raw umber, taupe, wenge, robbe’s hair, robbe’s eyes

“Hey.” Eliott’s interrupting him again, driving a wedge in front of the runaway train of his mind. “How about you come with me? You can meet Lucas. Get a drink with us, and we can talk. He can give you advice on how to be brave.”

Eliott’s grinning as he says it, a look in his eyes like he’s kidding but he’s also not, and Sander knows he’s not, because he actually could use some pointers on being brave right about now, when all he’s wanted for the last week is to disappear from the face of the Earth. To do nothing but go to sleep.

It’s so much more difficult, being awake.

“Will he mind?” He asks, sliding the strap of his messenger bag onto his shoulder.

If anything, Eliott’s smiles grows wider. “Nope. He’s been saying for weeks that he wants to meet my Belgian friends.”

Friends.

Yeah. Sander thinks he could really use some friends right now.

Eliott and Sander are outside of the school’s entrance for only a few minutes, watching the sun set and sharing a cigarette, and then there’s a tiny blur crashing into Eliott from out of nowhere, latching its arms around his neck and climbing onto his back, nearly knocking Eliott over with the momentum.

Sander flicks the cigarette towards the ground, and watches with a small smile forming on his face, what feels like the first in a long, long time.

“Eliott!” The blur cries happily, and then he’s speaking in rapid-fire French, his metropolitan accent managing to sound lazy and rushed at the same time, his vowels melting together to form one long stream of exclamations.

Sander manages to catch something about a nightmarish train ride, a desperate need to eat something, and then, when his feet are back on the ground and Eliott has turned around to face him, I missed you so much. My love.

They kiss, and it’s slow, soft and intimate and Sander looks away, taking a drag off the cigarette. He checks his phone but the only notification is from Britt, telling him that he left a sweater at her place, and she doesn’t want to keep it but she also doesn’t want to bring it to him, so he’ll have to drop by to pick it up himself.

Sander sighs.

I’ll come by tomorrow, he replies. He wants to tell her she can just give it away, or throw it out, he doesn’t care, but he can guess that for her, it’s for closure. Something she can do to tell Sander that she’s over it, over him, and Sander doesn’t want to take that away from her.

He owes her that, at least.

“Hello.” Another heavily-accented voice is saying to him, cutting through his thoughts. His head snaps up and the boy/blur himself is standing in front of him, offering a hand to shake. Eliott is next to him, an arm draped across his shoulders. “I am Lucas.” He announces, like he’s the king of France declaring himself to a pauper, and Sander already likes him.

“Sander,” he says, shaking Lucas’s hand.

“Eliott says you are coming with us for drinks?”

Sander shrugs. He flicks the cigarette to the ground and smothers it with the toe of his boot. “Yeah.”

Lucas squints at him, biting down on his lip. Sander tilts his head to stare back at him, not sure what Lucas is looking for, if he’s measuring him up to determine if he’s worthy to be Eliott’s friend, or if he’s trying to extrapolate on the inner workings of his heart just from what’s written across his face. Sander wonders if Lucas can read wasteland somewhere along the lines of his forehead or in the hollows of his eyes. When Sander woke up this morning, that was all he could see when he looked in the mirror.

Lucas must find something satisfactory in his appraisal, because he’s nodding, and Eliott leans close to whisper something into his hair and Lucas smiles, something soft and sad, and he says, “Ah, oui. D’accord.” He slips out from Eliott’s arm and steps froward, gripping onto Sander’s wrist. “Come on. You will pick the bar and Eliott will pay for the drinks.”

Eliott makes an indignant, protesting noise at this, but Lucas waves him off.

“It’s an emergency, Eli! We have to get him vodka and make a plan.”

Sander is staring down at Lucas, feeling a bit like he’s being pulled into a tornado. “A plan for what?”

“For how you will fix it.” Lucas says, as if it’s obvious. Sander throws a look at Eliott over his shoulder, wondering just how much of Sander’s private life he’s shared, and Eliott shrugs like maybe he overstepped but he’s not sorry about it.

Lucas is practically yelling into his ear. “We need somewhere with good food and cheap alcohol.”

And Sander, who’s thinking about being brave, being honest, being vulnerable and being able to hear Robbe’s voice, to press his cheek to that spot at the base of his neck, he points down the street, towards the centre of town.

“That way,” he says.

“Good.” Lucas says. He reaches back for Eliott’s hand, pulling him along with them. “Let’s go.”

#asks #anon #also anon thank you so much for your kind words you’re so sweet!!! ily 💞💞💞💞#filed under #prompt fill #also filed under #fic tag #uhhh oh god #skam fr fanfic #elu fic #????#wtfock fic #robbe x sander fic #help????#cross-universe hoopla

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tackyink · 4 years

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hey! i tried looking to see if anyone had asked u about ur writing process lately and i couldnt find anything so i hope u dont mind a couple questions! im working on an oc-based fanfic of my own these days. what motivates u to keep writing long form stories? do u plot and outline the entire thing or do u prefer writing chapter by chapter? any tips for someone who wants to complete a story like u have? thanks a bunch ^^

Hoo boy. I... really don't have a method. I'm the example no one should be following, honestly. The one story I have that's currently completed was fairly easy to finish because it followed the canon storyline very closely and there wasn't much to plot, so I pantsed my way through it.

For Inked on Skin, I started with several scenes in mind, scattered in time, and like a fool I started way, way earlier in the timeline than I should have, then realized I had flown too close to the sun and now I had to fill in the gaps. And there were massive gaps as far as the eye could see. I was screwed. So how did I keep going? Mostly because my stubbornness is as legendary as my hubris. This was a story I really wanted to tell, on one hand because no one else was going to tell Saki's story and I would be sad to leave it unfinished, and on the other, because I wanted to prove to myself that I could do it. The comments I've been getting along the years have also been an enormous motivation, both because I knew there are people who enjoy the fic, and because this means that if I stop, I would also fail them, aside from myself (note that this is an unhealthy mindset to have because you don't owe fanfiction to anybody and should not feel guilty if you drop a story for whatever reason. I'm working on it).

On the technical side of things, it depends a lot on the structure of the story. Inked on Skin basically gets a new story with new characters in each island, so I usually think about what kind of place I'd like the characters to visit after I'm done with an arc, then think of something that could be going on there or make new OCs and see where they take me. It doesn't have to be a fleshed out plot, just a handful of ideas to develop as I write. Other times I have a clearer idea and decide on a few key scenes first, then fill in the smaller, more manageable gaps with the scenes that will bring me to the place I want to reach. It's also worth noting that the world of One Piece is so wild that practically everything flies. I get away with a lot of absurdity.

In comparison, my ongoing My Hero Academia fic was plotted from start to finish before I committed to it, since there's a mystery and police investigation going on and I need to know exactly where I'm going to not write myself into a corner. That's just for the key details of the plot, though. I wing the lighter character interactions as I go, and recently I decided to add a lot of fluff at one point of the story for no other reason that it sounded fun.

I think that the most sincere advice I can give regarding long stories is this: you need to have fun writing it and playing with ideas, but at the same time, there will be many times when writing is not fun. It seems counterintuitive, but you have to power through those instances. You will find something too boring, or too difficult, or you will feel discouraged by many reasons. You'll think it's writer's block and it'll go away. Your muse will magically come back to you. That's the enemy talking. You must keep writing, even if you think you are writing crap, and you'll eventually get to the next fun part. Of course, if writing is simply making you miserable or you're bored with the overall concept of the fic, you can and should stop. But if you find yourself struggling with a chapter or an arc but still want to write what comes afterwards? Boring scenes are the price we pay to write the awesome ones. And if it helps, there's an extremely high chance that your readers will actually love the scenes you hate because the most powerful force in the universe is cosmic irony.

#i'm sorry if i went overboard but i didn't know how to summarize what i wanted to say #also sorry about the typos because i wrote this in a hurry and i'm sure there's a million #lilyknife #tacky asks #long post

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merakiaes · 4 years

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hi, as you already know, one of your myriads of fans here. so i was wondering what would be steps to take, in your opinion, to start writing imagines/fanfics? Reading your stories makes me wanna take part in this amazing creative world, but i have no idea where to start:) i have some ideas to write, but what would be the things to consider? thank you and much respect and love♡

Oh, wow, that’s a tough question😂 I don’t think there’s anything to do other than just start🤷🏻‍♀️ You have to get your work out there and awaken the interest in order to get followers and more requests, so you should definitely go for it and write the ideas you have. There are things that make one-shots more appealing though so I’m going to try to list them down below.

- Having a nice aesthetic is probably the most important part to ME as a reader. If the post looks messy, chances are high that I won’t read it, no matter how good the fic actually is😅 A nice aesthetic can include a neat foreword section, like I write “pairing”, “requested”, “prompts”, “warnings/notes”, “wordcount” and “summary” before every fic, for example. It gives the post a certain structure. Using a gif of the character you’re writing for is also really important in my opinion. It makes it look more structured, aesthetically pleasing, and inviting. ALWAYS remember to credit the gif-owner if you know who they are, though.

- Paragraphing is BY FAR the most important thing, and that’s just when it comes to writing in general. Some people might not care but I know many people, me included, who just turn back around and go “nope” at the sight of a fic/one-shot where there is no paragraphing. It gives off a very messy vibe and makes my head hurt seeing as you have to concentrate a lot because it’s so hard to keep track of where you are in the text. I know things like that aren’t easy at the beginning for some, it wasn’t for me either, but it’s something that needs to be said so that people know what to practice.

- Insert the “read more” link after a few paragraphs so that your one-shot doesn’t take up the entire searching feed. There will be lots of people who will want to read your fic but there will also always be people who aren’t tempted and in cases like that, it’s annoying to have to scroll for your life to get to the next one.

- TAGS are the most important thing because it’s them that are going to get you promoted in the first place. Some people search for “imagine” while others search for “x reader” so I always make sure to tag the character’s every name/nickname with both “imagine”, “x reader”, “one-shot” and “fanfic” to really get my fic out there, and also the show’s name with all of the above. To further understand what I mean, check out the tags on one of my fics. DON’T tag characters that are not included in the fics with the “imagine”, “x reader” and “one-shot” tags. You’ll get a lot of haters real quick.

- Write in a word document on your computer, NOT directly on Tumblr. I’ve lost count of how many times I wrote oneshots directly on my Tumblr only to accidentally reload the page and lose everything and have to write it all again. It’s really heartbreaking when it happens and it is so time-consuming and not worth the risk.

- Not a must, but I find it easier to put out longer, more filled-out fics by writing the dialogue first and then filling in time and place, etc. If you ever find yourself with writer’s block, try this!

- Also not a must, but I find that this has helped me A LOT on Tumblr. Download the plugin “Grammarly” from www.grammarly.com. The free version doesn’t allow you all properties but it does provide you with the most important one; spelling and grammar correction. I’ve used the free version for the past 6 months now and it’s a great help when you don’t have time to fully and carefully read through your fics. Sometimes it will show the wrong things though so keep an eye out for that. It doesn’t fix all mistakes but it usually takes care of the bigger ones.

- I don’t know how you work as a person but I, myself, get really stressed out if I answer the requests, promising to write them, BEFORE I write them. Knowing that I’ve made a promise and that someone is waiting for me to post their request really pressures me and gives me unnecessary stress. To avoid this, I usually answer the request AFTER I’ve posted the one-shot. That way, I can also link the one-shot in the request so that the requestor, if anonymous, can easier find their way back.

On My Block is a fandom that’s pretty active now after Season 3 so I have no doubt in my mind that you could get requests immediately if you posted a post saying that you’re open for requests. Just specify which characters you’ll be writing for and tag all of said characters with the tags I mentioned above and I guarantee you that you’ll get requests.

If you ever decide to write for other fandoms too, it’s important to remember not to get discouraged when you don’t get much feedback on fics that are in smaller, less popular fandoms. For example, I’ve written a few one-shots for the tv-show Grimm and that’s an extremely small fandom so as you can guess, I didn’t get much acknowledgment for it. It will, naturally, be discouraging seeing as a lot of thought and time is put into the fics, but at the same time it’s only logical.

It’s also important that you know that it’s okay to set boundaries. As a fanfic writer, you provide people with alternate endings and scenarios to their favorite shows, you take time out of your spare time and put a lot of thought and energy to give them entertainment pretty much on demand and for free. Some people don’t understand that fanfiction is a privilege and not a right and will get really whiny/grumpy about the fact that you might be taking a long time to post their request. In that kind of scenario, you have the right to put down your foot and tell them off. It doesn’t make you a bad guy but rather on the contrary, you speak and stand up for all fanfic writers.

While we’re speaking of boundaries, it’s also completely fine that you make a little disclaimer saying that you would appreciate more feedback if you notice that you’re not getting any. The number of likes and reblogs/comments are always going to be uneven but sometimes readers need a little reminder that comments are appreciated, and asking for them doesn’t make you a bad person or anything like that. It’s only natural to want to get acknowledged for your art and if you ever feel like you’re not getting the attention that you deserve, point it out. Fanfic readers are really understanding and appreciative, sometimes they just forget to leave behind a comment <3

I make the mistake really often to force myself into writing even though I shouldn’t. For example, I could have a headache, be sick, tired, or just not feel like it and not have inspiration/motivation to do it. I tend to push myself into writing despite all this and take my word for it that you shouldn’t. I put waaaay too much pressure on myself and by doing that, I usually tend to grow tired of fandoms real quick so that I get left with a lot of unfinished requests that I in any other case would have loved to write, which sucks.

So don’t push yourself. If you don’t feel like writing, don’t. If writing starts feeling more like a burden and a job than a joyful experience, you’re doing it wrong.

There will also be requests that you simply don’t feel interested in, and at those times it’s really important to remember that you have no obligation to write them and that it’s alright to delete them/say no. Again, writing things that you don’t want to will make it feel like a burden and that’s not how it’s supposed to be. Writing is always supposed to feel fun and good, or you’ll burn yourself out pretty quickly.

Every writer has their proud moments and their less proud moments. If you write a fic that you’re really happy and proud of, brag about it! Lift yourself up and other people will jump on the train! And if, in a worst-case scenario, you don’t feel happy with the outcome at all, it’s okay. We all have fics that we love and hate, but just know that from a reader’s perspective, everything you do and put out is going to be greatly appreciated.

Every writer starts off somewhere so don’t be too discouraged if it goes slowly to a start. I hope my pointers are to some help even though I mostly rambled about pointless stuff😂 If you ever need help with anything or if you have more questions, my inbox is always open. I look forward to reading what you have planned, good luck!💕

#ask #advice

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bigskydreaming · 4 years

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kai06leaf replied to your post:

Ended up all night, with sleep derailed by a RUDE...

Um I had asked for a link for your batman related works?:)

Oh score, this is actually weirdly timely then! FlashinthePan is my Batfam pseudonym (https://archiveofourown.org/users/FlashInThePan/works), its just it hasn’t been useful for much other than to use my bookmarks page there as a fics rec list. Since the only other things still up on it are the YJ WIP I haven’t updated in a couple years and an elephant’s graveyard collection for the random ficlets I often write on here while forgetting they’re usually long enough to be actual one-shots...and that I then forget to actually add to that one, that I created for the specific purpose of putting all those in one place. My mind. Its just....*staggers at the Legend of it all*

I’ve been on a pretty committed “No more posting unfinished WIPs kick” for the past couple years but am finally at a point where I have stuff to post without cheating, so that streak officially ends today, when I finish my read-through of the first fic* in question and hit publish. “The Requiem Rites of Robins,” the ten chapter first story in an AU Battle For the Cowl fix-it series, “A Legacy of Robins,” with TRRoR being roughly 40K, focuses on Dick and Jason and their issues with each other and Bruce’s believed death, picking up and going AU at an indeterminate time not long after the end of BFTC.

Specific goals of focus with this particular fic were addressing Bruce’s bullshit last will and testament to Jason (ugh), the eternally unremarked upon moment that was Dick watching his brother refuse to take his hand and instead fall to what at the time must have seemed very likely to be Jason’s second death, in a pretty fucked up parallel to his parents’ death (ugh), various other unaddressed issues between the brothers that kept them making like they were Cain and Abel instead of two people who loved each other and very much could use each other while grieving for their father or even just pretending they weren’t....and also steadfastly jumping their combined train of events well off the tracks before Morrison’s whole...”Jason” thing ever happened at all (ugh).

Just a headsup for readers for whom certain characterizations of Bruce are a dealbreaker - full disclosure, this fic and its sequels do consider various less pleasant moments between Bruce and his two eldest to be in character and canon, with NTT #55 and the ending to UTRH the most touched upon and relevant. For what its worth, my intention there (and hopefully my execution of things) was not to vilify or bash Bruce, or to make it at all a question of whether or not both really loved Bruce and he them.

To be clear...I do categorize Bruce’s actions towards Dick and Jason at those times/specific others as abusive, but a huge part of my reason for even writing this particular fic was to explore and examine the reality of loving a parent even despite a history of actually abusive behavior on their parts. Of how to mourn for someone you loved at some times and hated at others, who was both the person who made you feel whole again and the one who made you at other times feel the most broken.

Especially when you’re two people who pride themselves on being heroes, who are ‘supposed to know’ that there’s no defense, no excuse for some of the things their father did, but that doesn’t always change or erase how much they want to. And who are both looking for an answer in the other, as to how they’re supposed to live with the fact that deep down, there’s a part of them that will always still be those ten and twelve year old orphan boys who came to believe their father was a man who could literally do the impossible...even mend what was broken, make things right with them and the world as they knew it just like he’d managed once before, when he’d first come into their lives and they’d been just as certain then that there were no more happy moments in their futures at all.

And with the both of them still, even after everything, having held onto that secret hope that someday he was going to find the secret loophole, the magic words that let them forgive him, that let them let the past all just be in the past and the future all that really mattered, that their best days as a family weren’t all behind them yet and there was still time for things to be different, for him to be different....because their dad wasn’t like other ordinary dads, their dad was the Batman, he was a superhero.....

....who was also still just a man, and sometimes men die with their most important deeds still left incomplete.

This first story is centered firmly on just Dick and Jason, because I have a tendency to let things get too widespread and expansive plot-wise the more characters I focus on, and because this first story, about mourning Bruce and finding a way to move on, needed to be just Dick and Jason, although Cass and Tim and Damian, as well as Steph and Babs and Alfred all have things in the wake of his believed death that IMO they needed explored, and that were never explored in canon. But Dick and Jason had to be the first two and a solo act except for each other, especially as this series is still geared towards Bruce’s eventual return, and just to a much different status quo....because the thing about Dick and Jason at this specific point in time, is that they were quite possibly the only two people in the world who would ever have the relationship with Bruce that they did, to see him the way they both at times did, and nobody else ever fully grasped.

They knew him at his highest and his lowest points, the best parts of him and the worst, the center of their whole universes and the destroyer of them....and for them, at this place and time, its about being forced to realize that for as much as come between them over the years, they each are the only ones who will ever fully be able to speak to the entirety of their father as not just Bruce Wayne, the Batman, the myth and the legend, but Bruce the man, the flawed father who was supposed to be better than his worst mistakes with them, because he was supposed to be a hero.

Even as close as others were to Bruce, there were specific slants to the light they saw him in....for Alfred, even when making his worst mistakes, he was still his son, for Cass he was still the father who fought her personal demon not because of what he wanted her to be but so that she could be who she wanted to be, for Tim, he was imperfect but still larger than life, the hero he’d still first only come to know through the lens of a camera from a great distance, a perspective he’d yet to entirely shake, and for Damian he was still largely a figure of make believe, a bed time story he’d been told all his life.

There’s an inherent goodness, a nobleness around the idea of Bruce for most others in his life, that defies coming face to face with the realities his failings could be.....which only Dick and Jason could ultimately attest to, as losing the ability to keep sight of that innate shine was why they’d found themselves so disillusioned by their father at the lowest points between them. And so in a lot of ways, the ultimate goal of writing this fic was trying to get Dick and Jason to a point where they could share their full, messy, complicated as hell feelings about their father with each other, but simultaneously feel a need to preserve the way each of their siblings still saw him, because the truth is that if there’d been someone who could have preserved that shine for their own eyes, to keep their memories of him clear and unobstructed by complication....they would have been glad to have been left just missing Bruce their father, and not the mess of feelings forever tied up in a Gordian knot upon by his death.

So yeah. LOL. That’s the link to my Batfam works, though there hasn’t been much on their for ages, but stay tuned for Chapter One of The Requiem Rites of Robins, later today.

“In the wild, a group of robins is called a round. But Gotham’s birds have always been of a different sort, something entirely unique. And the only proper plural for them, I’ve found, is a legacy.”

An investigation leads the newly minted Batman to London, alone and without Robin’s back-up for the trip. In the past couple months, Dick Grayson has barely found time to breathe, let alone to grieve for his father and come to terms with his new role as the Dark Knight’s successor. But his distracted state leaves him vulnerable, and when a new villain’s one-man war threatens to make a casualty of him too, he’s left with no alternative but to work side by side with his rescuer - at other times better known as his brother, his successor, and a couple times his would-be killer.

(Their family always has been one of over-achievers. And if you’re going to pick a pair of brothers to play compare and contrast against with that in mind, its hard to go wrong with something biblical.)

But Dick seeming no more happy about it than he is, doesn’t do much to pick up Jason’s mood. He’s come to London for his own reasons, and no, he’s still not inclined to share. Curiosity killed the cat, but he’s sure Selina wouldn’t mind if innate nosiness knocked off a few birds here and there as well. Well-earned paranoia aside, however, secrets and cynicism can only carry them so far when the two are forced to rely on each other to fight their way free of a city turned death-trap. Both are keenly aware that the last time they’d fought side by side like this, they’d been all the way back on the other side of Jason’s first untimely death. And as far as potential omens go, that one’s about as shitty as they come.

But a mixed curse and blessing are nothing new for them, and so that’s not just a painful reminder, but also proof that things were different once. That the brothers they’ve become were not always the brothers they were supposed to be. It was time and pain and bloody loss that weighed them both down so much further than the altitudes that came most naturally....not fate, or destiny, or even them. And as their new enemy forces them deeper and deeper below ground, it becomes all the more clear there’s only one skill in either of the brothers’ arsenals that will see them through to the other side of all this:

And only if they can not just remember, but rediscover, how to shed all of that and finally fly free again.

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alwaysraineh · 4 years

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AY BABE! FOR THE FIC WRITER ASKS!!!! #2 #3 #37. I must know... 💖

BABE

THIS IS THE BEST I LOVE YOU 💕💖💝🥰🥰🥰

2.Is there a trope you’ve yet to try your hand at, but really want to?

I have three words for you and that is ENEMIES. TO. LOVERS. I’m a big fan of blank to lovers tropes and I’m so so so deeply invested in friends to lovers and it’s honestly pretty much all I write but one day????? God I want to attempt enemies to lovers. Can you imagine?? The tension? The yearning? The pining? The absolute clowning buffoonery and dumbassery??? They think they hate each other but they are in fact in LOVE?????

.... so. yeah there’s that. oh and also coffee shop/flower shop/book shop au?? golden. haven’t attempted those yet but definitely gonna one day (also abo??? honestly really enjoy abo when its done right but my fear of writing it is mainly that it usually seems to be inherently a sex thing?? and i don’t tend to write sex things a lot much less publish them but like.... i have ideas for abo dynamics and idk how to explore that bc abo is viewed as such a sex thing)

3. Is there a trope you wouldn’t touch with a ten foot pole?

Anything to do with non-con/dub-con/incest, etc. I mean that’s dark but like... N.O. thank you. And that’s just on principle, I mean I avoid reading those things as well?? AO3 filters are godsends. I think they can be written tactfully and if it’s something you need to write to process trauma or something like that, go ahead!! I’ve never seen a fic that glorifies any of this (except the fact that I know of several fandoms with incest ships and I just.... *shudder*) which is good!! But it can go the wrong way too quickly and I personally enjoy processing my trauma through other forms of distress!!! I like to think I’d be up for attempting just about any trope as long as it isn’t inherently problematic, though!

37. Talk about your current wips.

Aha you’re calling me out aren’t you?? Yeah so pretty much everything I ever attempt ends up an unfinished wip BUT I SWEAR I’M GONNA FINISH THESE ONES because even if it takes forever I’m actually really into each of these concepts?????

Obviously just breathe (i will stay) is at the top of the list!!! It’s my only published wip that I have every intention of finishing in a (mostly) timely manner and it’s very dear to me in many ways, one of which is (obviously) you!! just breathe is a lot of self-indulgence with taakitz, in which both have ptsd but their trauma manifests differently and they have completely different manners of processing! I’ve got that subplot with the twins that’s honestly a lot of fun to write, esp the idea of nonromantic soulmates (particularly because, while romantic soulmates are fun, I wanted to avoid it entirely in this fic; I don’t want it to be seen as Krav and Taako ‘fixing’ each other’s trauma and love magically healing old hurts. They help each other, yes, and they are very much in love, but there’s no magical fix to ptsd and processing trauma and healing. You have to want it and you have to work at it, and that’s honestly the main theme of this fic, I think). ALSO I PLAN TO WRITE AT LEAST THREE MORE FICS IN THE SAME UNIVERSE because while I never finish things, I am a dirty gremlin who makes worlds that are just slighty too self-indulgent and then I don’t want to leave.

The rest of my wips (that i intend to finish) are unpublished. I want to get them to a point where I feel comfortable enough with their progress that I’m definitely going to finish them before I publish any of them lol but they include:

- a Geraskier Witcher fic (ft. flowers and dramatic descriptions of Geralt’s eyes and Jaskier thinking, at one point, that Geralt has died)

- a Destiel Supernatural fic (fake relationship!!!! on GOD I’m gonna finish this one because I’ve never written fake dating and it kills me because it’s one of my all-time favorite tropes)

- two Nurseydex Check, Please! fics (one about hockey and sports injuries and realizing just how much people can mean to you; one about missed connections and reunions and heartache and coming to terms with falling in love all over again)

#this got SO LONG #IM SORRY #but also not bc it was fun and i love you #ask games #my writing

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flowerwrites06 · 5 years

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PROMISE - CHAPTER ONE

Plot: Jungkook forces Yoongi to make him a promise that could potentially kill him and destroy their relationship forever.

Character Info: Drug Dealer Yoongi, Aspiring Artist/Barista Jungkook, Drug Cartel Boss Taehyung, Drug Dealer Namjoon, Drug Runner Jimin, Secretary Seokjin, Former Drug Dealer Hoseok.

Pairing: Yoonkook, Taekook

Warnings (this will update and change as the chapters go): Drug Use, Drug Making, Smoking

Words: 4677

Authors Note: This was actually one of my first fics right after I wrote Song of Temptation so don’t mind the subpar writing during the first few chapters I’ll be releasing back to back. Not that I’m an expert now but the writing is not as developed since I was starting out. Also the aesthetics are very much inspired by HYYH Yoonkook. I kind of want to do a story like this while also writing De Morte Magicae because it helps keep a little ‘grounded’ I guess. Anyway enjoy and let me know your thoughts in the replies or my inbox!

After sunset was the best time to paint for Jungkook. The sun setting was a beautiful sight but he wanted to capture the aftermath when all the warmth faded away. Flowers were hugging themselves to sleep leaving him with the small waves and light breeze that sneaked through his jacket for a moment causing a shiver through him. White canvas on his lap, Jungkook’s pencil scratched across the surface mapping out the view before him. Nothing but the horizon and the dull powder blue sky reflecting on the dancing sea, occasionally splashing sprinkles of cold water on his face if the wave was hard enough.

This was where most of his time was spent. Sitting at the pier, trying to find the perfect time to paint a scenery. It was either here or back at the apartment painting inanimate objects or his unfinished project of Yoongi’s piano. Jungkook hadn’t done a project of the sea in a long time so this was perfect. Not a lot of people appreciated this time of the day—it was so serene and calm as nature bids a temporary farewell to the sun. Spending full days at the apartment got stuffy sooner rather later especially when he was the only one in when Yoongi was off to the drug den. That thought alone made him restless every single time it popped up in his head. Even part-time shifts at the café weren’t enough to calm his cabin fever.

A child laughing echoed behind him, Jungkook turned back to see a small girl looking over at him with a smile. He couldn’t control the immediate grin that stretched across his lips while the girl’s parents were walking in front of her, going further away than normal. Waving his hand, he alerted the child to keep walking which she quickly abided before Jungkook was back to his view. It was rare to see children in these parts of Busan. Most sensible people realize that it wasn’t the safest neither the most luxurious of places, run-down buildings, sketchy clubs and cheap motels with ruddy studio apartments. It was the epitome of being on the wrong side of the street but Jungkook called it home.

Ruddy studio apartment with love and support was much better than a mansion filled with yelling and judgement. Jungkook found peace in the peeling steel and rusted stands near the pier that showed off the clean sea. He could breathe here. The colours of the sky reflecting on the water beat any gold or diamond he had seen in his childhood. Now the colours were going to resonate on his white canvas as Jungkook mixed his blues with white to match the tone. His fringe prickling at his eyelashes as he focused on the strokes of his paint brush, letting his mind move with it almost lulling him to sleep.

His phone timer went off after a few hours to jump him back to reality if he went into a daze in his work. He wanted to stay much longer but Yoongi would have be home soon so he packed up his things in his khaki bag and made way to his black van that still shined in whatever dull light was left in the day. Looking back at the sea again, Jungkook took another deep breath before climbing in and driving back to his studio apartment.

As per usual however, Yoongi came home around an hour after Jungkook got back making him rethink his early depart from his project. Warm lights were on now to illuminate the room even though there was a blush of purple and pink in the sky still. With a long sigh the male decided to heat up some ramen and dig in at the tiny dark wood dinner table placed on the corner of the apartment with their shared bed adjacent to it. From where Jungkook sat, Yoongi’s light brown piano was in full sight. He could easily imagine Yoongi playing his pieces on it every day while Jungkook would paint but that hadn’t happened in months now. Every single day seemed to be busier than the last with the older male to a point where Yoongi’s dark eyes and messy mint hair were becoming a permanent look.

The door opened with a thud and Jungkook was interrupted mid-bite of a large ball of ramen. Yoongi groaned and dragged himself inside closing the door behind him before finally meeting his gaze. Exactly as he suspected with under eyes darker than ever and his hair looking unwashed for a couple of days. “Ramen again?” He mumbled, placing a box on the table.

“Not really a five-star cook… correction, not your personal cook,” Jungkook retorted, gesturing towards the kitchen counter on his right where his share was. “What’s in the box?” He asked, averting his gaze to his own food as Yoongi walked to get his.

Jungkook mildly dreaded asking whatever was in the box because anything that was concealed from him was either a gift or much to his fear, work brought home. Gifts were nice but his work coming here brought more anxiety on him than he could handle. He could have been with a cute barista or just a pianist he would have been fine but now Yoongi had to be a damn drug dealer working for a highly influential drug cartel in Busan. That was pretty much all he knew about it and he wanted to keep it that way for a very long time.

“It’s the art supplies you were looking at. Said your brushes were shedding,” Yoongi mumbled nonchalantly as he dug into his ramen sitting in front of him.

Eyes widened, Jungkook’s gaze flickered over to the box as Yoongi slid it over towards him so he could see the neatly displayed line of brushes with the same tips as the ragged ones he owned. A sense of warmth passed through him seeing all these new tools just waiting for him to use it until that feeling was replaced with anxiety once again. “Where’d you get the money for this?”

The older male’s eyebrows furrowed. “What do you mean where I got the money? I got a job, you know,” He spoke in a matter-of-fact tone. The atmosphere in the apartment was already heating up much like the back of Jungkook’s neck.

Jungkook sighed. “I know…just doesn’t feel right,”

Yoongi stayed silent but he could feel his gaze on him making him slightly uncomfortable. It wasn’t everyday Jungkook talked about his feelings when it came to his work but he wondered a lot. How long was he going to keep doing this? Was this a full-time thing? Was he under watch? Was he in danger? It was a constant scene of questioning whether it was safe being so close to this kind of business. Then again, he imagined that leaving alone would not be good for his safety either. Which was why he had to convince Yoongi somehow.

“I don’t have any other job, Kook. If I want to buy something for you, the money’s going to come from there,” Yoongi’s tone didn’t change much aside from the slight tinge of irritation when he asked this question.

He was reluctant but he spoke again. “Is it really that hard?” This time Jungkook spoke out of curiosity. People resigned from their jobs almost all the time but Yoongi was persistent more than normal.

There was a moment of silence and Jungkook expected it to stay that way but he heard Yoongi’s voice again. “It’s not just a job. Living out on the streets, you don’t get much of a long line of options. I was good at dealing and I was bound. They didn’t just hire me. They took me in…kinda like family,” He shrugged. “A lot harder to just leave people who gave you a reason to live…albeit selling drugs isn’t the best of reasons but I’m still here,” It was the most Jungkook had ever gotten out of Yoongi and he felt his chest tighten a little. Leaving family was lot more difficult than just resigning from a job, that was true. All the pressure on him seemed to make him more vulnerable to talking about these things which Jungkook didn’t know if he was supposed to be glad or worried.

The younger male gulped as his mind racked through every possible thing he could say. So many things he wanted to say. But he could only blurt out one thing in hopes of Yoongi understanding. “Maybe now there could be another reason for you to live than selling drugs,” Jungkook kept his gaze on his cooling ramen before slowly moving his eyes up to meet Yoongi’s softening gaze.

An audible sigh passed the mint haired male before he shook his head. “As soon as the tattoo’s on…I’m stuck,” For the first time, Yoongi gave him an apologetic look worrying Jungkook that this must be it. Yoongi wasn’t going to leave anytime sooner or later. “It’s just the way it’s going to be,”

That was about their tenth conversation which failed in Jungkook convincing Yoongi to leave this drug cartel. But for the first time, Jungkook slept the night with a tinge of pity. It wasn’t Yoongi’s fault that he couldn’t leave. Gangs were like this from what he had known. No one got out of it even if they thought they did. He hated the idea but that didn’t change how things were.

Jungkook had a morning shift at the café which he didn’t appreciate since he wanted to work out before going to the pier. It was the usual faces asking for the same things which was easy enough although he may have slightly rushed through. The thought of possibly finishing his shift quicker to sketch the ideas running around his head.

When he was heating up milk, a voice made his head shoot up. “Jungkook, is it?” Brows furrowed when he was met with a stranger’s face, orange hair catching his eye. That was until the man smiled brightly at him as if he knew him already which confused and worried him far more than it should have. “I’ve heard about you. Didn’t know you worked here,” He continued.

Jungkook accidentally placed his hand on the side of the steel jar that had the steamed milk causing him to jerk back. Placing it down on the table, he opted to continue making his drink without making much eye contact with the stranger. “Sorry but…how did you hear about me exactly?” He gulped. “I don’t think we’ve ever met before,”

The other man chuckled a little. It was far too sweet for what he was making Jungkook feel right now. “Of course we haven’t but I’m a friend of Yoongi’s. From work. I saw your picture in his wallet after a little peek,” He gave a cheeky smile. “I’m Jimin if Yoongi hadn’t mentioned which I’m pretty sure he hasn’t, the bastard,”

Jungkook let out a nervous chuckle trying to look more friendly rather than frightened. It wasn’t a regular thing to just find Yoongi’s work mates knowing who he was. The idea didn’t sit well especially since it wasn’t a normal corporation. Jimin knowing his face could either be helpful or dangerous. “He doesn’t talk about work much at home,”

“Ah, yeah it can be a little stressful,” Jimin scrunched his nose for a second. “So what do you do at work? I don’t see you around Yoongi in the day,” He gave him a curious look that confused Jungkook. “Are you a runner?” He smiled brighter.

Jungkook’s brows furrowed. “Sorry?” He placed the finished order on the counter for the waitress to take to the table before facing Jimin again, curiosity now filling him. “I only work here…and I’m an artist, I guess,” He shrugged.

The other male didn’t look like he believed a word he was saying before laughing again. He leaned forward on the counter. “No need to lie to me. It’s alright if it’s embarrassing. What do you do at the den?” Jimin kept his smile on display although Jungkook’s anxiety was slowly transforming into an ounce of fear. Why was he so persistent on the fact that Jungkook worked at the den?

He shook his head again being just as persistent. “Sorry but I don’t work at the den at all. Never have,” That answer seemed to send a strange surge through Jimin because his smile and his charming nature almost disappeared instantly. Jungkook hated that he didn’t know why that was such a horrible piece of information. He wasn’t part of a criminal gang. Wouldn’t that be a good thing?

Jimin cleared his throat. “Right uh—sorry. Could I have an espresso?” He quickly changed the subject leaving Jungkook with more questions and his desire to be out at the pier now a long forgotten need.

When he came back from work with some warm lunch, Yoongi was caught on the piano playing an old piece. Eyes lit up seeing his fingers easily glide along the keys that were slowly catching onto dust in the past few months. His hair didn’t look as messy as it was not too long ago, his under eye circles were still present but a few days of good sleep would surely fix that as well.

Jungkook set the food on the table before walking over and sitting down next to Yoongi on the bench. “Never thought I’d see you on this again,”

“The apartment was getting quiet,” Yoongi mumbled, the corners of his plush lips curling upwards while his eyes were focused on the keys. His body seemed to move along with notes as he played them, swaying to a point where Jungkook thought he could fall asleep just by looking at him. “Any suggestions?”

Jungkook couldn’t help the smile that tugged at his lips. The scent of their food now clouding the room making it warmer and homely. “The one you played when I was painting you. I liked that one,” He muttered softly.

Yoongi didn’t waste any time gliding his fingers once more, the familiar sound making Jungkook’s ears twitch. Both didn’t speak when the older male played. All Jungkook could do was sway his head, closing his eyes letting the music cause pleasant surges through his body. “I do have another reason to live now,” Yoongi mumbled, keeping his gaze on the keys but Jungkook was now alert, lips parted. “If only I found that reason sooner…things would be different,” The music was playing softly in the background now as the younger male took a deep breath. “But things don’t change that easily,”

It was becoming a lot clearer why Yoongi suddenly decided to sit at the piano. While Jungkook appreciated having this time with him, the few minutes they had which weren’t daily routines or the troubles they face. Right here at this piano was their personal bubble of everything they could want and love. But now it was becoming a reminder that this place was exactly what it always was. A bubble. And they were going to have to get out of it soon or someone might pop it for them.

Jungkook wanted to mention his work friend visiting him at the café and the strange conversation they had but he just wanted this time to be theirs. Only theirs just for a little while. “I don’t want everything to change,” He rested his head on Yoongi’s shoulders, his soft shirt creating a thin pillow while the scent of cologne touched his nose. “I like this part the best,”

Yoongi’s shoulder shook slightly when he chuckled. “We can keep this part for as long as you want,”

“And the pier. You need to come to the pier with me one day,” Jungkook’s head shot up, the hair of the side of his head sticking out a little which Yoongi brushed down. “You look like you need to fucking breathe,”

“Hey you don’t look your best when you’re tired as fuck either,” Yoongi nudged his shoulder making the younger male laugh.

“At least I still have my youth,” Jungkook teased.

Yoongi scoffed. “You’re gonna pay for that,” He pinched his thigh lightly causing him to giggle.

Two mornings later, Jungkook was forced awake by Yoongi hissing under his breath as if to try and stay quiet. He assumed the older male was on the phone until he heard another voice. Trying not to look like he was awake, he turned his head a little to hear the conversation better. He probably shouldn’t be eavesdropping but they weren’t speaking too softly.

“Kid could be a good asset. Even being a drug runner—” It took a few seconds but Jungkook recognized the voice. Kim Namjoon was one of the drug dealers at the den Yoongi was working at and it didn’t take a genius to notice that he ran most of the business aside from Yoongi himself. Jungkook knew vaguely because he was the only person from work that seemed to have no problem visiting Yoongi from time to time.

“He’s not a fucking tribute, Joon,” Yoongi growled lowly. “I’ve told you time and time again. We’re not having this conversation anymore,”

“Out of all the damn rules, one’s clear is that the boss doesn’t like outsiders meddling with our workers unless they’re clients,” Namjoon argued yet Jungkook still wasn’t entirely sure who they were talking about. Although he dreaded the assumptions going through his head. What Jimin was so stressed about when he said that he didn’t work with Yoongi. “Jungkook is definitely not a client and they’re going to find that out sooner or later so you need to show off your purpose for the boy,”

“I’m not selling out my boy, alright? I don’t want that shit messing him up,” Jungkook’s mild anxiety relaxed at Yoongi’s words. “Tell Jimin to stop nosing around and for fuck’s sake, tell him to keep shut around Taehyung,”

He heard the other man sigh in defeat. “Alright, just don’t say I didn’t warn you. Taehyung isn’t as lenient as his dad. You saw what he did to Sungmin. I just don’t want that happening to you,” Soon after, Jungkook heard footsteps and the door closing leaving a frustrated Yoongi to mutter to himself.

While it was relieving to know was that he wasn’t being forced into some job in the gang to save his own skin, that conversation was stuck in his head all day. Jungkook understood the risk of being with a man that works in a business like this but he had never heard of a rule where he was literally prohibited to do so. Especially from the business itself.

Jungkook went to the cafe after getting himself ready while Yoongi had already gone to work before they could talk. Although he didn’t know what he was going to talk about since the older male had no clue that he overheard them talking. The café was slower than usual and he didn’t get a surprise visit from Jimin again after the way he left. Jungkook now began to understand why he was so stressed when Jimin found out about him not working at the drug cartel. Was it that bad? He thought.

Was Yoongi risking his job by being with him? Or worse, his life? Anxiety pushed through him as he accidentally let the milk get too hot erupting a heated complaint from a customer. Though none of their harsh words drove him away from the thought that Yoongi could be in danger just by being with Jungkook.

Unless…

Jungkook left the café early after an earful from his boss, walking down the street for the first time away from the direction to the pier. Instead he made his way towards the far side of the town where a line of ruddy restaurants built. He could almost smell the products being made from here and it certainly wasn’t gourmet food of any kind. He promised himself that he would never set foot in this place ever. But here he was, opening the door to one of the restaurants which didn’t look much like one at all. There were tables with people covered in thick smoke which tortured his nostrils making him cringe a little but he tried to keep it hidden.

It wasn’t too long until he felt eyes on him. Suspicious and judgmental stares that pierced right through him, making it highly obvious that he was a strange face here. Nevertheless, Jungkook kept walking hoping he would run into Yoongi somewhere but his way was blocked by a large man tall enough to almost crush him with his foot. Gulping, Jungkook slowly glanced up to meet with a tan, gruff man who did not like his presence here at all.

“You have an appointment or something?” The man almost growled.

Jungkook shook his head like a meek child. “No… I’m…I’m a friend of Yoongi,” Unfortunately the man didn’t look like he believed him which made him walk closer to him. Jungkook’s knees were growing weak and the skin under his clothes breaking a sweat.

“Leave him be, Do,” Jungkook heard Namjoon’s voice from behind the giant that was in front of him. When he moved out of the way, the younger male saw Namjoon wearing a striking yellow lensed pair of glasses which shone against the dull light inside the den. He visibly sighed at the sight of a familiar face although even Namjoon was confused as to why he would be here out of all places. “Something wrong, kid?” He walked over to where Jungkook was still quite frozen.

After a few seconds of stammering, Jungkook was able to speak not without giving a glance to the giant that was still glaring at him. “Nothing’s wrong. I came here to see Yoongi…and you. It’s important,” His heart pounded against his rib cages, he was worried Namjoon might hear it too.

Namjoon’s brows were furrowed but he still nodded before leading him further inside the den. Jungkook felt like he was walking into the room naked with the way the people were looking at him with drooping eyes through the cloud of smoke. He heard muffled noises of machinery to where he assumed was where whatever product they were selling came from. Or something much worse. The walls were an unpleasant green against the dull lights. He spotted a large, intricate painting of a red tiger on the wall as they came towards a flight of stairs like the tattoo Yoongi had just under the back of his neck.

Up the stairs, he was met with a strange hallway. The right had a wide glass window where he could see lines of people sitting at desks and packing something quite robotically. Jungkook could spot some flashes of white in the packages which made him gulp as he looked forward instead.

“We really could’ve just had this meeting at your house. This place isn’t for everyone,” Namjoon seemed to have sensed his anxiety or Jungkook was terrible at hiding it.

“No, it’s fine,” For what Jungkook was planning to do at this moment, he would need to create a stomach for things like this eventually.

At the end of the hallway, there were two doors. One on his right and the door was open while the other was right in front of them, closed. Namjoon opened the door without knocking now standing at the entrance almost as an attempt to hide Jungkook for a few seconds.

“I fucking told you not to disturb me right now, dude,” Yoongi grumbled. Oh, he was not in the good mood, was this a good idea? Should he run right now?

“I know but I think you really need to pause for a minute,” Namjoon walked over to the side letting Jungkook walk inside the room to meet with an utterly shocked Yoongi. The older male dropped the papers he was holding back onto the table before standing up.

“Joon, can you give us a minute?” Yoongi addressed but Jungkook refused, shocking him further.

“He needs to hear this too,” Jungkook glanced at Namjoon then back at Yoongi.

Namjoon closed the door behind them before walking towards the table and resting on the filing cabinet adjacent to it. Jungkook took a deep breath during the silence as Yoongi tried to relax back onto his chair to let him talk. “I’ve…decided I want to join the drug cartel…if Namjoon will have me as a runner. Just let me know what I need to do,”

“You want to what?” Yoongi growled the last word, gripping at the edges of his table almost as if he was throw it. “No. Not a fucking chance, did you put him up to this?” He turned to Namjoon who looked as bewildered as Yoongi did.

“Joon didn’t have any say in this. Two people now know that I don’t work here and if it is really important then I’m willing to do it,” Jungkook’s knees were shaking again though he hoped Yoongi wouldn’t notice. Not when he was making such a bold claim.

Yoongi shook his head, looking down at his table clearly not convinced. Jungkook wanted to take comfort in his persistence but that almost meant his life being in constant danger. If more people found out about him being an outsider, who knows what could happen? “Kook, go back home, okay? We’ll talk later. I don’t want you getting into this,”

“But I already am. I think I’ve become pretty involved just by being with you,” He took a few more steps forwards so his hands could lean on the edge of his study table. “Let me do this. I’ll keep working in the café and everything will be the same,”

Namjoon kept his head down as they spoke, arms crossed over his chest. Yoongi merely glanced at him before sighing. “Everything won’t be the same. It seems like it now but a lot of things change when you dedicate to places like this. You wanted to be an artist, remember? How are you going to do that when you’re here?”

“You think every artist that existed was some kind of saint?” Jungkook retorted.

“No but you could at least try,”

Jungkook shook his head, annoyance now gripping him at Yoongi’s stubbornness to agree with him. “Namjoon, you said something about a runner…when do you think I can start?”

Yoongi’s head shot up. “What the fuck do you think you’re doing?”

“I think you fail to realize that it isn’t up to you whether I take the job or not,” Jungkook challenged.

“Actually it kinda is considering it’s my den,”

“This is yours but Joon can arrange something for me since he was so eager to have me in the cartel,” Jungkook turned to the older male who was stammering a little in midst of this argument but he nodded either way. “Unless…”

Jungkook could see the smoke coming out of Yoongi’s ears and the grip on the edge of his table tightening.

“Unless what?” He spat.

“Unless you leave the cartel entirely,”

Yoongi relaxed as his face softened while Jungkook kept his gaze without blinking, his eyes burning a little. “I’ll go back home without talking about this again…if you leave with me,” It was a big risk knowing how Yoongi was so persistent on staying in his gang. What if he did agree into letting him in the gang? That was what you bargained he thought with great worry.

Silence plunged into the room as Yoongi rested back on his chair, his fingers over his mouth now. Jungkook took a deep breath before the other’s gaze was on him again. “Alright…I’ll think about it,” Yoongi emphasized. “Just give me a minute and we’ll talk at home, okay?”

“Promise me,”

“What?”

“You…need to promise me that you’re really going to do this. Make a decision instead of leaving me hanging.”

Yoongi sighed before nodding. “I promise.”

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