#[new fic if you haven’t already seen it I just posted in the middle of the night 😭]

[ask-modern-patrochilles]

How did y’alls proposal happen? 🥹

Patroclus: Well, I was the one who proposed to him. I’d been thinking about it for a while before I actually went out and bought a ring. And I was waiting for the right moment to pop the question but that didn’t really work out the way I planned.

[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

Get Lost

No tag lists. Do not send asks or DMs about updates. Review my pinned post for guidelines, masterlist, etc.

Warnings: this fic will include dark content such as dubcon/noncon and other possible triggers. My warnings are not exhaustive, enter at your own risk.

This is a dark!fic and explicit. 18+ only. Your media consumption is your own responsibility. Warnings have been given. DO NOT PROCEED if these matters upset you.

Summary: You get caught in the corn maze after dark but you don’t think those footsteps belong to someone trying to help you find your way out.

Characters: Lloyd Hansen

Note: this is the fifth and final of my autumn fics as decided by all of you!

As per usual, I humbly request your thoughts! Reblogs are always appreciated and welcomed, not only do I see them easier but it lets other people see my work. I will do my best to answer all I can. I’m trying to get better at keeping up so thanks everyone for staying with me <3

Your feedback will help in this and future works (and WiPs, I haven’t forgotten those!) Asking for more or putting ‘part 2?’ is not feedback.

Love you all. You are appreciated and your are worthy. Treat yourself with care. 💖

Jaden points across the dash, receiving a swat from Alexandria as she tries not to veer. 

“Hey,” she cries out, “don’t do that. I can’t see over your ugly sweater.” 

“Oh, whatever, Lex,” he snips, “I was just trying to show you that.” He points again, this time without blocking her view, “you see that sign ahead?” 

“Sure, I see it,” she leans over the wheel as your nail taps across your phone screen. You huff. You wish they’d stop arguing for one moment. “A maze?” 

“A corn maze. Doesn’t that sound fun? I haven’t been to one since I was a kid.” 

“Of course, you haven’t,” you scoff and let your phone hang carelessly in your hand. “We’ve all seen that movie with the evil kids. Who wants to go running through a field?” 

“I do,” Ashton says, “better than driving around looking for those shoes that don’t exist.” 

His girlfriend, Samira, laughs and leans into him. You blow a raspberry. 

“It’s all the way out in the middle of nowhere,” you sneer. 

“Well, Mrs. Xanny, you never want to do anything so your vote counts for nothing,” Jaden retorts. 

“Excuse me,” you roll your eyes. 

“I’m up for it,” Ashton raises his hand. 

“Me too,” Samira mimics him. 

“Me three,” Jaden declares. “So looks like you two are outvoted.” 

“Whatever,” you mutter and Alexandria sighs. 

“Fine, but nobody better leave me behind. I’m not getting lost because of you idiots,” she growls. 

“Don’t worry, Lexi, I’ll hold your wittle hand,” Jaden teases. 

The others laugh and you go back to your phone. You’re more interested in the new heels at your favourite boutique than some dirty and scarecrows. Alexandria steers on as she continues to snap at Jaden to stop distracting her. Her driving is a lot scarier than anything that might be hiding in the maze. 

You swipe and tap and tune out the world around you, especially the two lovebirds exchanging not so subtle touches beside you. Jaden had to insist on sitting in the front. Finally, the car rolls, the axle jostled by the lumpy ground, and you look up at the gray sky. You hate daylight savings. 

When the wheels are still, you’re reluctant to get out. You could offer to watch the car until they get back. It’s cold and you don’t feel like slogging through soil and seed. 

“Hey, Lex,” you begin. 

“If I’m going, you’re going,” she snips as she undoes her seatbelt. 

You curl your lip and make a face at her back. The others are already out of the car. Jaden’s bouncing eagerly, Ashton’s staring at the gate to the maze, and Samira is draped off her boyfriend’s arm. They probably just want to find a dark corner so they can makeout. They are so high school. 

“Fifteen bucks?” You read the sign above the table, “blech. I could put that towards my hair appointment tomorrow.” 

“Oh, boo hoo,” Jaden snorts. 

“Don’t act like you don’t have the money,” Samira jeers. 

You call these people ‘friends’ lightly. You all just kind of stick together out of familiarity. Most people you’ve met aren’t much better so why risk downgrading. 

You take a step and feel your tall heel sink into the mud. Ew. 

“Oh, my boots,” you whine as you lift your sole, the muck dripping off of it. 

“Wash em after,” Ashton says. 

“These are Louis’,” you snarl. 

“And you have at least three identical pairs at home. Lighten up,” he barks back. 

You cross your arms and seal your lips with a wry smile. You’re not arguing with him. He’s been a jerk ever since you turned him down at his sister’s twenty-fifth. You suppose it was his birthday two, them being twins and all. Not that he looks very much like Alexandria. 

You trod after the four others, trying not to step too deep in the mud. You growl at the ground. You know what’s not dirty, a salon or a store. 

“Nice boots,” a deep voice rolls over you as you join the queue for tickets.  

You lift your head and look over at the man nearby. He steps up next to you as you eye his bristly upper lip. It’s a look, not a good one. 

“Brave girl going in alone,” he comments. 

You frown, “I’m not,” you step closer to your friends and they chatter. 

“Oh, coulda fooled me,” he remarks as he reaches into his jacket. “So, those Louis boots... those are last year’s...” 

“How would you know?” 

He shows the lining of his jacket. Also Louis. He pokes his fingers into the interior pocket and slides out a pack of gum. He pushes out a piece and pops it in his mouth. He tucks the pack back into his pocket and drops his hands to his hip. 

“So,” he chews the gum loudly. “You’re not really dressed for a maze.” 

“And you are?” You scowl, looking him up and down. He copies your posture and does the same to you. 

“I’m not here for the maze, baby girl,” he winks and snaps the gum. “But you have fun.” 

He turns and struts away before you can respond. Your lips open in confusion. What could he mean? You blink and shut your mouth, stepping up between Alexandria and Ashton. 

“So, how long are we going to have to stand around?” You ask. 

🌾

You hold your phone up in irritation. Your bars are totally gone. Great. This maze thing is so fucking boring. What are you supposed to do now? 

You sniff and shake your head. You sigh and put your phone in your jacket pocket, keeping your hand in the fleecy insert as the chill creeps up your leggings. You guess you’ll have to help or whatever. 

“Alex--” you look ahead then back, and side to side. Your heart leaps and you rush forward as fast as you can on your six-inch heels, “Alexandria? Ashton?” You look around the next corner and the opposite way along the other pathway. “Samira?” 

You spin again, your ankles tangling together. You blink as the tall corner adds to the dimness setting over the horizon. You gulp as your heart pounds in your throat. You slip your phone free once more and turn on the flashlight. 

You aim it ahead and listen for voices. You don’t hear much past the dense wall of stalks. As you brush a bit too close, you cry out and back away from the hanging husk. You shake of the crawling sensation and turn back and forth again. You lost your sense of direction. 

You look up at the sky. The clouds are thick, you can see neither moon or sun. You stop and pull your phone closer. You bring up your maps but it’s just a blank screen. Still no signal. 

Fuck it. Just walk, you’ll find the way. 

You shine the light ahead of you, your heels sinking into the mulch of footsteps, husks, and stones. You walk unevenly over the soft ground. You mumble obscenities as your arches start to bemoan the height. If you had known about this special excursion, you could’ve worn your Uggs. 

There’s a scuff, a strange echo of your own steps. You stop but it keeps going. You squint and twirl around, the light glinting off the corner and slicing through shadows. “Hello?” You call out. 

The footsteps continue but no one answers. You can’t tell if they’re ahead of you or behind you. Or to the left. Or right. You sway back and forth. This is getting weird. 

You take a breath and set your feet. You nearly trip as your heels dig in once more. You grunt and pull them out. You’re about to just scream for help. 

A sudden rumble makes you squeal. What the hell was that? You twist around and it happens again. It’s laughter? Someone’s laughing at you? 

You look at the tall stalks of corn, searching between the tight rows. 

“Alright, not very funny. Ashton....” you holler. 

The laughter gets louder. 

“Jaden,” you hiss. 

The laughter stops. 

“I really am not amused, okay? I want out. I never even wanted to do this stupid thing--” 

“Those boys are long gone, sweet peach,” the voice drawls around you like the wind, “I’m all man.” 

“Where are you? Who are you?” You ask. 

“I’m right behind you, baby, and I’m your knight in shining armour,” he purrs. 

You gasp and turn around. You beam the flashlight of the phone in the man’s face. You only get a glimpse of that short brown mustache before the cell is knocked from your grasp. 

“What are you tryna do? Blind me?” He snarls as your phone disappears between the corn. 

“What-- What do you want?” You step back, dragging your heels from the mud. 

“I wanna help, baby,” he slithers. “You seem lost.” 

You blink at him. He’s a dark silhouette against the greyness trapped in the maze. You bristle and look over at the corn. 

“Sure, I’ll just grab my phone, thanks--” 

“Ah, ah,” he comes up to meet you, blocking you with his arm. “I don’t work for free, honey pot.” 

“Fine, then go away,” you spit. 

“Woah, ho, you haven’t even asked what I want in return, sweetie,” he brings his other hand up to touch your cheek and you flinch away. 

“You’re not getting it, dude,” you back up. 

“Just a little suck. Hell, you give the little guy a nice kiss and I won’t even make you finish the job--” 

“Ew, no way,” you smack his hand down as he reaches for you again. “Fuck off--” 

He’s quick. He grabs you by your jaw and snarls as he looms over you, “for such a pretty mouth it sure is fucking filthy. Won’t matter what I put in it--” 

“Hey,” you grunt and writhe in his grasp, twisting your hands around his thick forearms, “get off--” 

“I’m trying, trust me--” 

You ram your knee up and feel the crunch in his pants. He wheezes and lets you go. You shove him and stagger backwards. You look at the corn one last time. Your phone is somewhere in there. 

As he cradles his crotch and snarls, the urgency of the moment slaps you across the face. Fuck your phone. You need to get away from this creep. 

Thank god you got insurance on your cell plan. You turn and lift your knees. You land on your toes, keeping your heels off the ground as much as you can. You’re not going very fast and you know you look ridiculous but you don’t care. You want to go home. 

You pump your arms as you breath hitches. You hear groans and another set of steps, just like before. You get to a corner and turn before you crash through the corn. You heave as you race away, ankles threatening to bend. At what point do you just ditch the Louis’ and mourn them with your phone. 

You cough and slow down. Shit. You’re in terrible shape. You look over your shoulder, your breath foggy in the plummeting temperature. You don’t see him. You don’t hear him either. Good. 

You turn-- 

“Boo!” The man startles you so you shriek. 

You stagger back as he cackles and you hurl yourself forward. Your feet catch as your heels stab the ground and you stumble with your arms flailing away from him. Your shallow breaths thunder around you as you charge through the maze only to find yourself trapped at a dead end. 

You stop and waver, lungs filled with fire. Fuck, fuck, fuck! You stomp with each internal proclamation. 

“Look, sugar tits, you can keep running and I’ll keep chasing,” the man struts up behind you as you spin to face him. “But it all ends the same way.” He sets his feet wide and cracks his knuckles. “And since you bruised my left nut,” he snarls, “you can kiss that better first.” 

“Uh, like why are you doing this?” You ask. 

He chortles, “like because I can.”  

You snarl and cross your arms, “you’re a loser. And you’re old. Like, can’t you find someone your own age to creep on?” 

He laughs louder but there’s not much humour in it. He stalks closer and your defiance glimmers, just a little. You don’t know where he gets off. Does he really think he can just tell you what to do? 

“So, I knew you were gonna be a handful,” he grabs you by the neck and you wince. You slap his wrist and he tuts, bringing his other hand up to grope your chest, “in more ways than one.” 

“Hey, fuck--” you grit out. “Hey!” 

“Look, sweetie, it’s a simple transaction. I pull my pants down, you keep those teeth to yourself, and be real nice to me,” he glares down at you. “The way you crushed my balls, you’re lucky I don’t make you lick my boots.” 

“What is wrong with you?” You growl. 

“Oh, a lot,” he smirks. “Now, those boots must kill your feet so...” he jerks you roughly, “on your knees.” 

Your eyes tinge just a little but you won’t cry. Not because of him. You gnash your teeth and grimace at him as he peels his hand away. 

“You got one thing going for you, baby, and that’s that pretty face. I can change that, trust me,” he warns. You swallow avert your eyes. He chuckles again, “god, I love that pout.” 

You bat your lash and fight to keep the litany of insults inside. You caterpillar faced fuck. You viagra powered moron. You overgrown frat boy. 

“The next time you open your mouth, it better be to gobble my cock,” he sneers, “so don’t even say it.” 

You look at him again. You set your eyes and your jaw. You step closer and he lifts his chin just slightly as he stares you down. 

You grab his belt and he twitches. You unbuckle it and whip the ends aside. You pop the button open and yank the zipper apart. He watches you, his eyebrow tweaking. You push his fly wide and roll your eyes as you feel his naked pelvis beneath your fingertips. Of course, this weirdo is hanging loose. 

You reach under his pants and angle his hard dick through the teeth of the zipper. You stroke him up and down with a dry, tight grip. He hisses and shifts his weight. 

“Careful, like sandpaper,” he rasps. 

You tut and look down. You huff. You move one foot back and bend your leg. You put one knee to the ground then the other. You make a face as you come level to his tip. Ugh. 

“Don’t look so fucking enticed,” he barks. You roll your eyes again and he swats your head. “Keep doing that and your eyes are getting stuck.” 

Old. Man. 

You pump him again and slowly, inch by inch, lean in. 

“Ah, I said kiss the left one first, then you can get to the main dish,” he puts his hand on his hip. 

You swallow and push down a tide of disgust. You lift him and lean your head to the side. You crane around and pucker, pressing your lips to his left ball. He twitches and groan. 

“Damn, those lips are soft. Do the other one.” 

With bile brewing in your stomach, you obey. You pull back and put his tip to your lips. You narrow your gaze at his pelvis and spread your mouth around him. You wet his swollen head then work your way down his length. He might be a desperate loser but he’s not small. 

You bob up and down as you take more and more of him. He curls his fingers into his hip as his other hand goes to the back of your head. He urges you on and you bat his hand with yours. You push back against him and flick your eyes up. 

“You are a stubborn one,” he rebukes. 

Your lips meet your hand and you pump him emphatically with both, popping off his tip so he whimpers. He clutches a wad of your hair as his eyes gleam desperately. 

“I kissed it better,” you wipe your mouth, “you show me the way out, and you might just finish, old man.” 

He stares down at you. Agitation and amusement battle across his expression. He takes a breath and lets it out. 

“One last kiss and I’ll get you out,” he says, “And then you’ll get me off.” 

The cold air swirls around you and the darkness floods through the corn. You squeeze him slightly and put a sloppy kiss on his tip with a loud muah. You let go and tickle along his length. You grab onto his arm and pull yourself to your feet. 

“I want out. Now.” 

“Alright, princess,” he snickers. “Don’t you worry, I got a throne you can sit on when we’re home free.” 

[takenbypeter]

Hey! Jumped on the Wonka train since yesterday and had two thumbs up! Can I request a Wonka x single mom reader where during the course of the movie they’ve built up a bit of a flirtation/relationship and he bonds with her kid (s) bc of course they love the magician with chocolate who makes their mama smile. Specifically I’m looking for like a scene towards the end of the movie or post-canon where he expresses interest in adopting her kid (or kids) and of course marriage so they can all be one real happy family together. Sorry if that description’s a lot

Beginnings of a New Dream

Willy Wonka x reader

Words: 1780

Ahhh this one is so bad 🙈 I tried with this one but honestly I hate it, Idk I think it's cause I can't relate to parent fics so I just suck at them but still I wanna thank you for requesting

“Where is he?” You said to yourself, as you turned around in search of the young child. You’ve left him alone only for one second and now, poof, he’s nowhere in sight. 

Your eyes scanned your surroundings quickly until it spotted a familiar tiny figure standing upright among the white snow and you wasted no time to catch up. 

“There you are,” you breathed out, worried tone evident in your voice, “I told you to stay put,” you reminded, before noticing the stranger who was with him. 

The unknown man was wearing a tattered overcoat, along with a worn out top hat. His outfit was very…unusual, to say the least. And he was quite handsome.

But what concerned you the most, was his outstretched hand which held a small piece of wrapped candy. 

You glanced at your son who was already chewing on what you could assume was a different piece, then back at the stranger who instantly understands how bad this looks. 

“I’m sorry, I haven’t properly introduced myself. My name is Willy Wonka and I’m a chocolatier hoping to open my own shop very soon.”

“Mommy he can do magic!” Shouted your son.

“Oh he can now, can he?”

Willy Wonka. You’ve heard that name around town a few times, but this is the first you’ve seen of the man. 

He held out a hand to which you firmly shook, “well Willy Wonka, surely you, being a stranger and all, understand why I find it odd you’re giving candy to my son, knowing how dangerous it is for children to talk to, no less take candy from a stranger.”

“Ahem,” he let out an awkward cough as he retracted his hand. “I do apologize. It wasn’t my intention to cause fret. The little guy looked lost so my only intent was to keep him safe and occupied, honest.”

You squinted slightly unsure of the man. He stood arms up and opened in an innocent manner. His eyes were big with his thick eyebrows angled upwards at the middle before curving down. He did seem to be of no harm, and he did keep your son safe. 

You let out a relaxed sigh, “it’s alright, it’s my fault anyway, I should’ve kept an eye on my son. Thank you for keeping him safe.”

Wonka’s shoulders dropped and his facial muscles relaxed at your pardon. 

You reached down holding your child close, “we’ll leave you be. Thanks again.” 

“Wait,” his voice rang out, catching you before you departed. “Would you like to try a piece?” He held out the same small piece of chocolate from earlier in his palm upwards towards you. 

You’re just about ready to decline the offer but again he speaks out, “it would really be helpful to have a mature opinion on this chocolate.”

You nodded caving in because honestly, who were you to deny free chocolate, your mind thought showing you to be just as gullible as a child. Taking the sweet treat, you pop it past your lips.

 Immediately a rich flavor overtakes your mouth and as you bite into it, a milky chocolate filling spreads around. 

It was quite good. 

“Mmm,” you nodded towards the man, “oh you are going to go far with this chocolate Mr.Wonka.”

“Thank you. Your words mean much to me,” he said genuinely, and you let out a chuckle, “you’re welcome Mr.Wonka,” you say, as you turn around, hand in hand with your son.

Willy watches you fade from view with a prominent smile on his lips, because although he knew his business would do well, with the justification of your words he felt he was on the right path. 

And honestly he hoped to meet you on this path again. 

Days passed until you met the self proclaimed chocolatier again. 

You had been traveling, hand clasped with your sons, when you spotted Mr.Wonka’s pop up store in the center of town. Initially wanting to pass the store along with the small crowd surrounding it, your plans are thwarted when your son pulls you towards it.

“It’s Mr.Wonka!” Shouted your son as he pointed towards the herd, “alright, alright we’ll just stop by.” He runs, his little feet taking him as fast as he can while dragging your body along.

“Mr.Wonka! Mr.Wonka!” Shouts your son as he rushes to the front with you following close behind. 

Willy’s eyes widened in recognition, “well hey there, little guy, back so soon?” He asks, prompting your son.

You watch, looking on as the chocolatier chats with your child. They go back and forth creating small talk, before Wonka pulls out one tiny piece of chocolate, He waves his hands around and the crowd watches as he turns one piece into two right in front of their eyes. 

“Woah, do it again!” Clapped your boy in amazement, and truthfully you felt the same way. 

He performs the trick once more and again your son laughs as Wonka gives him one of the pieces before turning to you and handing you the other piece. 

“You are surprisingly well with children.”

He shrugs, at the comment, “it helps when you have such a sweet child…who has such a pleasant mother.”

He tips his hat while all you can do is chuckle trying not to look too moved by the man’s remark. 

“Thank you Mr.Wonka.”

“Please, call me Willy,” he adds and you nod while he returns his attention to other customers.

That Willy Wonka, what a charmer he was.

The week goes by before you run into the young man again, however, this time you were alone. 

“Willy!” You announced, trying not to sound too excited when you saw the chocolatier, who was walking along the street with a young lady. (You soon learned her name to be Noodle.)

You exchange greetings while Noodle makes her exit leaving you be. 

“What are you doing all alone? Where is the little one?” He asks, glancing around. “Oh I had to run some errands today so I had a friend watch him for me.”

Willy shares a soft smile, “he really is a brilliant kid, with a brilliant mother of course.”

“You flatter me Mr.Wonka.”

“Willy,” he reminds.

“Willy,” you repeat, sharing a look together before he blinks readjusting his focus. 

“Oh!” His eyes enlarge as he reaches behind him into his battered briefcase, “I had something made for the little guy, and for, ahem, the mister back home,” he holds out a small jar of candies to which you take grateful. 

“Please, there’s nothing of the sort, just me and the kiddo.”

“I’m sorry to hear that.”

“It’s alright. It’s been that way for a while, it’s sort of the only way we know.” 

Willy shares a look with you, one unlike the look of pity most give when they hear your story, it was more of admiration? Respect? Either way, you thank him for thinking of you and as you do so, you hear a siren noise nearing before the chief of police arrives. 

He steps out of his vehicle and Willy turns to you, “I think you should go. Now. I’ll talk to you soon,” he says and you nod in understanding leaving the scene as the chief of police nears. 

That’s how your time gets spent whenever you spot the man; your son talks with him, you talk with him, Willy performs a magic trick. You try to buy some candy, Willy refuses and instead gives it to you for free and then you’re on your way. 

“Willy! Willy! Look, my tooth is missing!” Your son yelled running up to Willy. 

“Oh wow, that is outstanding! But you know what I heard?” Willy lowers himself to your son’s level, hushing his voice. 

“I heard this year, the tooth fairy started leaving candy underneath the pillows, for all the good boys and girls.”

“Really?!”

Willy looks up in your direction shooting you a quick wink. 

“Really.”

Your son turns to you with a smile from ear to ear present on his face as you nod confirming his curiosities. 

Mirroring his grin you watch on as Willy and your son continue in conversation. You’ve grown to the sight of them both, chatting and laughing. It was a very lovable sight. 

 That’s how it went, your meetings together.

And with each meeting you found yourself drawing closer and closer to the man, staying longer and longer on your visits.

The last time you saw Willy was at his opening for the factory, when everything went south. People rioted and burned his shop down and in the craziness you grabbed your son and ran putting his safety first. 

After that you didn’t hear from Willy. 

That is until today. You weren’t there when all the mess went down. When Willy and his team practically outsmarted the Chocolate Cartel, having them arrested. 

But you made sure to be there for Willy Wonka’s new opening of his shop. 

You stood in the crowd, your hand clutching your sons as the people gathered around trying the various sweets and treats. 

Walking around taking in all the beautiful colors and lights you stop at a wall full of jellybeans and gumdrops. And giving your son permission to collect some, you stand a short distance keeping an eye on him. 

“You made it,” said a voice as a figure emerged beside you. You smiled at Willy who was positioned just as you were towards the colorful wall. 

“Of course I did. I wouldn’t miss it for anything.”

You watch for a moment as your son collects snacks, putting them into a bag that was provided. You were so occupied with him that you hadn't realized Willy was holding out one of his own creations for you.

“A chocolate flower for the lady.”

“It doesn’t have any yeti sweat does it?” You asked, eyebrow raised. You were lucky enough that you hadn’t managed to eat any of the poisoned chocolate last time.

“No, no yeti sweat.”

Beaming you take it and happily munch on it. 

“So this place…is it everything you’ve dreamed of.”

He glances around taking it all in. The smiles on peoples faces, the way they’re in full enjoyment, but then his gaze returns to yours, “yes it is. But it’s strange.”

You tilt your head silently, allowing him to continue his thought as he turns his attention back to your son then you again. “I think…I think I have a new dream now.”

“Oh yeah? What’s your new dream?”

Willy’s eyes lock onto yours. 

There are no words shared between you two but somehow you seem to understand what he means.

[lyricalt]

sniperspy fic inspired by the comic ending ?

Thought I was done posting fic for the year, but I had a quick one in me. :)

rated g, obvious comic spoilers

+++

It is, actually, not Sniper’s first time at Scout’s rather large house in the middle of American suburbia. The poor fella’s racking up more divorces than Sniper can fit bullets in the old SMG these days, and every now and then Sniper will pop in to for a commiserating beer or the newest wedding invite. Either way, Scout’s always in good spirits, and it never hurts to check on the guy and the little ones every once in a while. 

Scout greets him with a rough hug and several thumps on the back before pulling him the rest of the way into the house. They attempt to catch up, but that never lasts too long before Scout is whisked back into parenting duties. His brisk footfalls to prevent the latest kid-related disaster are familiar. Sniper watches Scout disappear back into the kitchen, hollering about the stove, and he can hear other recognizable voices echoing through the hallway. 

Well, that’ll be where the party is then.

Because old habits never quite die, Sniper takes a quick glance into every open room he passes; number of exits, windows, obstacles, cover, bodies. One in particular catches his attention, sitting on the living room couch. He grins.

“Now there’s a face I haven’t seen in a while,” Sniper says, walking in. It’s a bit of a lie, a bit of the truth. 

Spy turns his head. He doesn’t seem surprised, probably already knew Sniper was there from the moment he arrived in the van. 

Sniper has never seen Spy look so much at ease, despite all the little Scout-eyed tykes crawling over him. There’s something different, less tension in the eyes despite the new crows feet at the corners, and Sniper’s seen Spy’s type of deadly calmness countless times in the middle of battle, unruffled and focused. This is different.

It takes a moment, but Sniper realizes he’s never seen Spy content. This might come close. 

“You look well,” Spy says when Sniper stops in front of him. It sounds like he means it, and Sniper is inclined to agree. 

“Been alright on my end,” Sniper says. He doesn’t mean to stare but he hasn’t lied; it has been a very long time since he’s seen that face. “I see you’ve passed on the mantle.”

It’s hard to ignore little Princess Tanya wearing the mask. She’s apparently taken her promotion to princess assassin to heart and tips Spy over in a rather decent headlock he’s sure Scout has taught her to do.

“And just in time,” Spy grunts, but gamely makes a show of dying very dramatically, to the wild cheers of all five children. 

Grinning, Sniper reaches over, putting two fingers to Spy’s wrist. The pulse is steady and strong, but Sniper declares him dead anyway. “Looks like y’got him, Miss Tanya.”

“Yes! Now lets bring him back!”

Many children start performing chest compressions on Spy. Sniper is more than happy to leave Spy under the attentive care of so many enthusiastic medics without interfering any more. He can actually hear Demoman from the other room, and Sniper is eager to see the rest of the team.

“We’ll catch up later,” Spy says, voice rattling with the pounding of several tiny fists against him. He opens one eye to look up at him.

Sniper grins. “Give us a shout if you need back up. You already know my fees.”

Spy shuts his eyes, back to playing dead. Out of sight from the children, his middle finger shoots up.

+++

Dinner’s a delightful riot. Sniper’s warm and comfortable after a couple of glasses of wine and a few more friendly kisses under a traveling sprig of mistletoe that keeps getting tossed around. Scout’s managed to wrangle half the kids to bed. The other half are beginning to show signs of sleepiness. It won’t be long before all the adults will follow suit, but for now they’ve all drifted into smaller groups to have quieter conversations. Even Soldier, as loud as he can get, seems to have learned the value of letting small children sleep through the night.

Sniper stands from his chair, stretching as he does. Joints crack. He glances at Spy, whose wine glass has long been empty.

Now’s a good time as any to catch up, he supposes.

“Smoko?” he asks and tips his head, gesturing outside.

Spy gives him a look, a flicker of some interest. “Yes.”

They go down the hallway. Sniper stops just before the front door to turn towards a portrait. “That her?”

Spy doesn’t need to know what he means. There’s a small smile when he says, “Yes.”

“Cute.”

Spy snorts, opening the front door. “I certainly thought so. Still do.”

They step outside. Spy doesn’t go out with his long coat, which means it’ll only be a quick smoke, and nothing else. The porch light is bright, the neighborhood quiet. When Sniper peers up at the sky, the stars are dim and faint, not like being in the secluded parts of the wilderness.

Spy holds out a cigarette for him. “Yours, if you’ve got the light.”

Sniper grins. “I don’t.”

Spy’s brow raises. “You don’t smoke anymore.”

“Oh, I’ll have a cig every now and then,” Sniper says, taking it. He puts the cigarette between his lips and notes the brand is different from Spy’s usual. Or, well, different from Spy’s usual RED rations. “Only really did it to steady the nerves back then, or if there was someone else to pilfer from.”

Spy pauses, digging through his pockets. 

“Hm,” he says, taking out his lighter. He clicks up a flame, close to Sniper’s cigarette. “Apologies for encouraging bad habits.”

Sniper takes Spy’s wrist anyway. He brings the lighter closer.

“Wasn’t a bad habit,” Sniper mumbles, angling his head. He inhales, the end of the cigarette glowing. When he exhales, he can see his warm breath swirl over Spy’s knuckles in the cold air.

The pulse in Spy’s wrist doesn’t jump. Sniper ought to declare the man dead.

“Such a shame you didn’t flirt like this years ago,” Spy says, eyes crinkling. More crows feet at the corners.

“Was on the job,” Sniper sighs. “Weren't too good at flirtin’ neither.”

Spy snaps the lighter close. Sniper lets go of his wrist. 

“Could you imagine if we did?” Spy chuckles, keeping his hand up. He deftly plucks the cigarette from Sniper’s mouth. Puts it in his own to take a puff.

Sniper glances up at the sky rather than watch Spy. Turns out he still needs the nicotine to steady the nerves after all. This is why he can’t quite kick the habit. “Yeah. I can.”

The cigarette gets put back between his lips. This time, Spy’s smoky exhale drifts across Sniper’s neck, picked up by the night chill. He can also blame the chill for Spy’s ruddy cheeks but instinct tells him that if he grabs Spy’s wrist again, curls two fingers over the pulse point, there might’ve been the smallest of jumps in that steady rhythm. Wishful thinking, but it’s Smissmas. 

They finish the rest of the cigarette together.

[beechersnope]

omg trick or treat red light spells danger 🏮

regretfully i do not have anything new from that verse prepared, but i do have a few other anons clamoring for max or maxiel content, so i shall offer a ghost town fic that is a bit longer than most of the stuff that i've posted for the trick or treat fills

***

The sun had already set behind the black ridge of the mountains when Daniel finally pulled onto the stretch of rough dirt road that led into the town of Coldspring.

Calling it a road was a kindness it didn’t deserve, Daniel decided after bouncing along in his truck for nearly half a mile before a haphazard collection of buildings in varying states of disrepair came into view. He felt practically an expert on the subject after spending the last fifty-odd miles on a relatively well-maintained gravel road that ran north-south between Highways 6 and 50. If he’d known what he was in for after that, Daniel might have taken the long way around—but eager to get to Coldspring before dark, he’d opted for the more straightforward route.

Daniel didn’t know much about Max Verstappen or her ultimate plans for Coldspring even after countless emails exchanged over the last three months in addition to a handful of curt, to-the-point phone calls in the last two weeks. But he did know that she would be driving a truck almost identical to the one he’d picked up in Vegas after he’d landed a couple days ago, and when Daniel pulled up alongside the only vehicle in town—a rusty pickup with a bed cap that might have been white, once upon a time—it became immediately clear that Max wasn’t here.

As soon as Daniel hopped out of the truck, his boots crunching loudly through the clumps of gravel and sand, the door to the building he was parked in front of swung open to reveal a grizzled old man in plaid and overalls, a cowboy hat adorning his otherwise bald head. His beard was halfway down to his gut, and everything about the man’s appearance set off alarm bells in Daniel’s head. He didn’t have much Este that Max had done her due diligence in making sure the former owner of Coldspring wasn’t a serial killer. At least he’d had the presence of mind to buy a gun before hauling his ass out to the middle of the desert, though he hadn’t ever really planned on using it.

But surprisingly enough, the man paid Daniel barely any attention at all. “I was expecting a lady,” he said in a gruff voice with a similar cadence to the way country folk spoke back home. His eyes moved straight past Daniel and off into the distance, like he was expecting to see Max’s truck trundling up the road any second now.

“I know her flight landed in Reno this morning,” Daniel explained, “but I haven’t had any cell service the past couple hours, so I’m not sure where she is. She should have been here by now. You haven’t seen her?”

The man shook his head. “I’ve been waiting here nearly all damn day, and I ain’t seen a soul.” Finally, his eyes drifted back to Daniel with a suspicious glint. “You the handyman she mentioned?”

“Yeah,” Daniel replied, nodding. He wasn’t sure where the man was headed with that line of questioning, but he was starting to wish he’d put on his holster as soon as he’d stepped out of the truck, just so everyone was on the same page.

The man seemed wholly unaware of the effect his presence was having on Daniel as he responded. “You’ve got your work cut out for you,” he said with a derisive snort. “That’s all I’ll say.”

Daniel had figured that, seeing as Max had bought the place for a fraction of what the land should have cost—regardless of the level of disrepair the buildings appeared to be in. Evidently, the man in front of him had been desperate to rid himself of whatever burden owning this ghost town had become.

The man seemed just as eager to get the hell off the property now that Daniel had shown up, despite the fact that Max was the one who should have been there for the passing of the torch, as it were. But after fifteen minutes of the two of them standing there in uncomfortable silence, waiting, as the sunlight rapidly waned, it became clear that something was gonna have to give.

“All right, why don’t you show me around,” Daniel finally offered. “I’ll go into town tomorrow and make some calls if Max doesn’t show later tonight.”

“You know where town is?” the man asked in a skeptical tone.

“Keep going north, right? Until you hit the highway, then west for a few miles.”

The man nodded, seemingly impressed. “Y’all did your research, at least. Don’t see how it’ll help you much with this dump, but God bless you for taking it off my hands.”

Daniel was tempted to ask why the man was so desperate to sell, but he wasn’t sure he wanted to open that can of worms with a stranger who seemed like he wanted nothing more than to get the hell out of dodge.

The man—whose name Daniel still couldn’t remember from the sale documents though he’d been wracking his brain trying to recall it since the second he’d pulled up—took Daniel’s silence for the cue it was and started to walk up the dusty road that used to be the bustling main street of a turn-of-the-century gold mining town.

Daniel was surprised by how many structures were still standing even though practically every building was crumbling at the foundations, so ill-cared for in the century since the town’s abandonment that it was a wonder there was anything left. There was a bank, a schoolhouse, a jail, a handful of residences, and a brothel, all nestled within the narrow valley that sloped up toward the crown jewel of Coldspring: its namesake—a deep limestone pit with clear blue water that lay at the base of the mountain in the north end of the valley.

The man stopped where the road had been overtaken by sagebrush just a few hundred yards from the limestone caldera of the spring. Behind it, Daniel could just make out a dilapidated wooden path that meandered up into the mountains, where the great yawning mouth of a mineshaft stood starkly amongst the vegetation even in near darkness.

“Well, that’s the lay of the land,” the man told Daniel, his eyes flitting toward the mineshaft up on the mountain for just a brief moment before returning to Daniel’s face. “If you or Ms. Verstappen have any questions, you’re welcome to call and ask, though truth be told, I’m rather relieved to be done with this place for good.”

Once again, Daniel made a conscious decision to keep his mouth shut, instead of asking the question the man almost seemed to be daring him to ask. “Where do we sleep?” he inquired instead. He’d had a long drive after all, and for all of Coldspring’s charm—or lack thereof—Daniel wanted nothing more than to crawl into his sleeping bag so he could get some rest. He didn’t harbor any delusions about sleeping in an actual bed.

“The saloon,” the man said before starting a quick pace back to their trucks, both parked in front of the building in question. “It’s really the only building still fit to live in. For now, anyway.”

“Yeah, we’ll see.”

Once the former owner had raced down the valley toward the main road, leaving Daniel on his own in the growing darkness, the magnitude of his decision to take this job finally started to set in.

When Daniel had first responded to the listing, which had asked for someone with a litany of skills better suited to a contractor and his entire crew, he hadn’t taken more than a few minutes to look up where the hell Coldspring was before deciding that the job was his.

The strain of the pandemic that had led Daniel to move back in with his parents now had him desperate to get as far away from Nashville as possible. Running away to the middle of the desert and getting paid to do it had seemed like the perfect solution. It wasn’t until after he’d actually gotten the job and signed the paperwork that Daniel even bothered to research why this particular ghost town had died.

In Coldspring’s case, it was literal. The entire town had perished without warning in the late 1800s from an apparent mass poisoning. The prevailing theory was arsenic contamination of the groundwater supply caused by a mining accident, though no definitive evidence to that effect had ever been found.

While that hadn’t been enough to scare Daniel away when Max had booked him a one-way ticket to Vegas, it was the only thing he could think about now as he unpacked all his necessaries from the truck and brought them inside the dusty saloon, which didn’t appear to have a single working source of light. Thankfully, Daniel had come prepared.

Daniel set up camp behind the bar, his lantern perched on the countertop near the windowsill as a beacon of sorts, though he wasn’t expecting Max to come strolling in any time soon. There was a deadbolt on the inside of the saloon door and a more elaborate padlock on the outside. Daniel removed the padlock and secured the deadbolt once he’d retrieved everything that he thought he might need, and then tucked himself into his sleeping bag, the lantern still sitting on the bar top casting the rest of the space into shadow. Daniel stared into the patch of darkness in the corner for a moment before finally sitting up to turn off the light entirely.

It wasn’t until he was lying there surrounded by the pitch black and the overwhelming quiet that he realized he’d never asked the former owner where he was supposed to go if he had to take a shit.

Daniel woke up bright and early the following morning from a sleep that had been fitful at best. It was difficult to get used to the change in the ambient sounds. Gone was the frog-song that had lulled him to sleep since he was a baby; in its place the rhythmic instruments of insects hiding in the brush, their melody muted now that fall was in full swing.

Daniel’s mind was busy as well. Max still hadn’t shown up, which meant that he had a long drive ahead of him before reaching the nearest town, Austin, and even then, there was no guarantee he’d have cell service. Or that Max would, for that matter.

But luck was on his side. Daniel made it up to Austin just in time for mid-morning breakfast, and his signal made a reappearance almost as soon as he crossed into town. Max answered on the first ring and out came a long, rambling explanation for her absence which boiled down to her car breaking down somewhere just outside of Fallon, where she’d spent the night, and that she was on her way to meet him in Austin as they spoke.

Satisfied with her assurances (for now at least), Daniel strolled into the little diner on the side of the highway in the center of town and sat down for a bite to eat.

There was a waitress at the head of the table almost as soon as he slid into a booth, a broad bucktoothed smile on her face as she greeted him. “Can I get you anything to drink?”

“Just water, miss, thank you,” Daniel replied. He didn’t like to rely on caffeine to keep himself going. “Do you have any breakfast specials?”

“Eggs and bacon with toast or a short stack with fruit,” the waitress recited easily. “But if you’re looking for something a bit more substantial, Pierre makes a mean chicken-fried steak.”

Daniel thought it over a minute. “Yeah, all right,” he decided. It would give him a reason to hang out in this diner a little longer, at least. “Side of scrambled eggs with that, also.”

“You got it, boss,” the waitress replied with a flirtatious little wink before sauntering back to give Daniel’s order to the cook.

Daniel watched her walk away with a bit more interest than he’d shown before and made a mental note to try to get a look at her nametag, assuming this place had the budget for something like that.

It did, as it turned out, and when the waitress came back with Daniel’s glass of ice water, he discovered that her name was Este. When Este came back with Daniel’s chicken-fried steak, slathered in thick white gravy that had his mouth watering before the plate reached the table, he also discovered that Este liked to gossip.

“You planning to stay in town long?” she asked, nearly leant up against the table while Daniel cut his steak. He couldn’t really fault her for hanging around, seeing as he was the only customer in the whole place, but he had to wonder just what she meant by it.

“In the area, yeah,” Daniel replied.

Este scoffed. “There’s not much else ‘in the area’,” she countered playfully.

Daniel took a careful bite of his steak, chewed, and swallowed. “You know where Coldspring is?” he asked her.

All the color drained from Este’s face. “You work for Don Stevens?” she asked in an almost breathless rush, her tongue stumbling over the words. “Don’t tell me he’s planning on fixing up the place.”

“Was that the guy who owned it before?” Daniel clarified. “No, I work for the person who just bought it.”

“Someone bought it?” Este sounded utterly incredulous. “You’re not staying there are you?”

Daniel nodded. “Through most of the winter,” he replied, “long as the weather’s mild enough to work.”

A taut expression took over Este’s face as she drew back from Daniel’s table, her eyes darting toward the door, where another customer had finally come in. “Well, I’d rethink that plan if I were you,” she snapped before rushing away like her ass was on fire.

Daniel had to suppress the urge to laugh out loud.

He thought Max might find the anecdote amusing as well, but when she finally showed up a few hours later, it was clear that the young woman was in no mood for ghost stories. She looked uncharacteristically frazzled when she burst through the door of the little diner, her long blonde hair knotted up into a messy bun atop her head, and she blew straight past Este without a word, her fiery gaze fixed solely on Daniel.

“Nice to meet you,” was the first thing she said, her consonants sharp and carefully enunciated, though beneath that Daniel could still detect the remnants of a lisp. The second was: “I didn’t get ripped off by that Don guy, did I?”

Daniel shook his head. “Long as you knew you paid for some rundown old ghost town in the middle of nowhere,” he told her.

Max rolled her eyes. None of his previous interactions with her had been what Daniel would consider the height of professionalism, so he wasn’t really taken aback by her attitude, but it was a whole other thing in person, that was for damn sure.

“All right, let’s hit the road, then,” she said, gesturing for Daniel to follow her back outside.

Daniel climbed to his feet a bit reluctantly. He was sort of hoping to grab lunch before heading out to the boonies. “You don’t want to grab a bite first?” he asked. “I don’t know about you, but I didn’t exactly stock a gourmet kitchen when I packed.”

“If gourmet’s what you’re looking for, I’m pretty sure you’re in the wrong place,” Max replied with an unjustified sneer before storming out the front door.

They caravanned back to the saloon in Coldspring at a slightly quicker pace than Daniel would have liked, though even Max for all her impatience couldn’t maintain the same speed once they reached the rugged trail that led up into the mountains.

It wasn’t until they parked in front of the saloon and Max hopped out of her truck that Daniel finally took real stock of her, realizing almost immediately that this woman did not seem well equipped for living off-grid over the next three to six months, or however long she expected this damn project to take.

But he had to give her credit where it was due: as soon as her designer leather boots hit the dirt, she was already rolling up her sleeves and getting right to work.

That work consisted mainly of surveying the entire property from top to bottom and making a list of everything that needed to be done. Daniel followed along, letting Max know exactly what was required for each task in the way of supplies and manpower, and the whole time, watching the grimace on her face deepen ever-further with each new item added to her notebook.

“What exactly are your big plans for this place, anyway?” Daniel asked after they’d combed practically the whole town top to bottom—with the exception of the mineshaft looming high above them and the spring below.

“Tourism,” Max replied vaguely. “People love ghost towns.”

Daniel wasn’t sure that even the most hardcore would-be ghostbusters could be convinced to come all the way out to Coldspring to get their rocks off, but he just nodded and let Max keep believing that all of this wouldn’t just be one massive money sink in the end.

“First snowfall could be right around the corner,” Daniel pointed out to her as Max leaned down over the bar top to jot something else down in her notebook. His eyes dropped to where the first few buttons of her shirt were undone. Her fair skin was already starting to burn. He forced himself to look away. “We might not have much time to work on the exteriors before winter makes things harder than it needs to be.”

Max glanced up sharply, but if she’d intuited the focus of Daniel’s gaze, she didn’t make any indication of it. “I guess we better get started, then,” was all she said in reply.

Over the next week, Daniel managed to make significant headway on repairing the foundations of the major structures in town, though he still wasn’t convinced some of the smaller residences could actually be saved. Max was a surprisingly big help throughout the whole process; Daniel had anticipated more traditional foremanship on her part, but when it came right down to it, she didn’t seem at all afraid to get her hands dirty.

With another human being sharing the saloon floor—albeit on the other side of the bar, out of view—the town didn’t seem quite so threatening at night. Daniel slept well after each day of strenuous manual labor, and with Max keeping them supplied with fresh food from town, Daniel was missing a lot fewer creature comforts than he’d expected.

By the end of the first week, the days started to blend into each other. Without being able to rely on his phone, which had been tucked into his backpack turned off since the last time Daniel had gone up to Austin with Max for gas and propane, there wasn’t much to keep him tethered to the trappings of the outside world as he worked. It was everything Daniel could have hoped for and more. Complete and utter freedom.

But Daniel couldn’t quite seem to shake the sense of unease that came over him every time he caught a glimpse of the abyssal void of the mineshaft in his periphery. Sometimes he forced himself to stare up at it for minutes at a time, squinting against the wind that howled through the valley in the late afternoons, trying desperately to convince his subconscious that whatever movement he’d thought he’d seen in the darkness was just a trick of the light.

The next time Daniel went up to Austin on a supply run, he bought a calendar from the gas station and started marking the days.

It was a Tuesday when something finally happened that Daniel couldn’t explain, nearly two weeks after his first arrival in Coldspring. He was doing measurements in the old jailhouse, flummoxed as to how to begin restoring the damn thing without just knocking it down and starting all over, when he heard it.

“What?” Daniel called out frustratedly. It was the fifth time Max had called his name in the last twenty minutes with no additional response. After the sixth, Daniel finally threw down his measuring tape and notepad and stalked out of the building to see what she wanted. But when he walked outside, Max was nowhere to be found.

It was only after he turned a full one-eighty degrees that he spotted her, sitting out on the porch of the saloon where she usually hung out when she was thinking over a problem. The only thing was, Daniel could have sworn he’d heard her calling him from the opposite side of town.

Daniel slowly turned his head again, his eyes drifting upward to the mineshaft that Max still hadn’t made any mention of in her grandiose plans for restoring the town. He squinted hard as he stared up into the darkness, half-convinced that if he tried hard enough, he could make sense somehow of the disquiet that fell over him every time he remembered the source of Coldspring’s demise.

“What are you doing?” Max asked.

Somehow, she’d managed to come up behind him without making a sound. Daniel whirled around to face her, and then glanced over her shoulder at the place where she’d just been sitting to find the chair on the porch empty, though he wasn’t sure what to make of the relief he felt at the sight.

“Were you just calling my name?” Daniel wondered.

Max shook her head. “No, why?”

“Nothing,” Daniel replied. “Don’t worry about it.” Then he put the whole thing out of his mind and got back to work.

By the end of the third week, Daniel was positively certain he was going stir crazy.

He hadn’t had any more auditory or visual hallucinations, or whatever the hell it was that he’d experienced the week before, but he was waking up every day painfully hard in his sweatpants with no hope of release. It didn’t help that he was spending each night in the saloon just a few feet away from Max, who hadn’t shown the slightest bit of interest in Daniel since they’d met—and honestly, Daniel was kind of grateful for that, but it didn’t help him address the more immediate problem he was facing, and that was that he desperately, urgently needed to get laid.

Per their agreement, Daniel was entitled to a full two days off of his choosing every week. Today was a Friday. Barely five minutes after waking up, Daniel had decided that he was going to make a trip up to Austin that afternoon to see if Este was maybe a little bit interested, even after their sour farewell at the diner that Daniel had been carefully avoiding since their first encounter.

Este wasn’t interested. Georgie, a tall English tourist who was dressed more appropriately for mid-July rather than late-October, was.

“Please tell me you have a hotel somewhere around here,” Daniel muttered against Georgie’s sweat-soaked skin as he pressed her up against the cab of his truck. He had a knee wedged between her bare thighs, and he almost felt like he would die if he didn’t get inside her in the next five minutes.

“I have one of those van conversions,” Georgie replied with an awkward giggle. “Got a whole mattress in the back. We could really make my bed rock, you know?”

Daniel nodded, barely registering a word she was saying. He was pretty sure he would have followed her off a cliff if she asked nicely enough in that moment, but when he finally pulled away from her so they could do just that, it wasn’t Georgie’s face looking back at him. It was Max’s.

Then Daniel blinked, and like that, whatever he’d seen was gone. But the sick feeling in the pit of his stomach was only growing stronger.

“What’s wrong?” Georgie asked, reaching forward to pull Daniel back in.

He dodged her and stumbled back a few feet. “I have to go,” he said, mouth dry as he fumbled through both pockets before remembering that his keys were attached to his belt. “Sorry, I—”

Daniel didn’t finish the sentence before climbing into his truck and speeding away, leaving Georgie and the rest of Austin behind.

But when Daniel finally made it back to Coldspring about an hour later, Max’s truck was gone. She hadn’t said anything to him when he’d left that morning, but a cursory examination of the saloon revealed a note hastily written and taped to the bar top. Went 2 Fallon for more supplies. That was it, no further explanation of when she planned to be back or why it was so urgent that she’d left midday for an errand that would take her at least six hours of driving to complete.

Frustrated with Max, but more-so with himself for letting this damn place get the better of him, Daniel buried himself in his sleeping bag and screamed into his pillow until he tasted copper in the back of his throat.

It was dark when Daniel woke up on the floor of the saloon, and it took him a moment to realize what it was that had woken him. Usually, on nights where the moon was full, as it had been the past two nights, the light shone straight through the saloon windows, illuminating the entire space with an eerie glow. But when Daniel’s eyes opened, all he could see was blackness, and there was a disorienting period of half-awake confusion before it finally dawned on him that the shape obscuring the moonlight belonged to a person.

Daniel’s blood ran cold. Instead of opting for fight or flight, his body simply froze.

Daniel watched as the shadow moved, completely silent, with none of the tell-tale creaking of the wooden floorboards underfoot that had become the de facto confirmation of either his or Max’s presence within the saloon. He held his breath as the shadow drew closer, and then—

“Max?”

She put a finger over her lips and moved closer as Daniel sat up in his sleeping bag.

“What is it?” he asked, in a whisper this time.

Max answered with a press of her lips against Daniel’s, surging into him, forcing his mouth to open to the insistent pressure of her own. She tasted metallic, but her hands against Daniel’s thighs were electrifying, distracting him for the moment from the strangeness of the encounter.

Then he remembered himself—remembered that Max was his boss and that there couldn’t be a worse idea.

Daniel pulled away sharply, and as he did so, he caught a glimpse of a face that wasn’t Max’s face, desiccated and bone white. But when he blinked, the apparition was gone, and it was Max staring back at him again, though there was still something about her that seemed…off. Different, somehow.

“If we’re going to do this,” Daniel started to say before just as quickly backtracking. “We shouldn’t,” he finished, though it felt like he was trying to convince himself more so than Max.

Once again, Max didn’t respond, but when she leaned forward to kiss him again, this time, Daniel didn’t put up a fight. He tangled his hands tightly in her long blonde hair as she laid a trail of bites along the hollow of his throat and down his chest, his other hand struggling to find a way to take off whatever it is that she was wearing. A nightgown? Bloomers? Before this, Daniel had never seen her go to bed in anything less than a crewneck and sweatpants, but maybe that was the reason she’d gone to Fallon, to plan for this—whatever this even was.

 Finally, Daniel managed to literally tear the undershirt off of her. With it gone, he drew back to appreciate the way her breasts were illuminated by the moonlight. Under other circumstances, it might have all been very romantic, but as it was….

Daniel quickly flipped Max over onto her back, temporarily getting himself tangled in his own sleeping bag before managing to break free. She stared up at him quietly, her expression calm and supplicating. The silence was a bit unnerving, but it wasn’t hard to ignore now that Daniel had his thumbs tucked into the waistband of her lacy bloomers. He slowly pulled them down, savoring every centimeter of skin revealed to his eyes. He was surprised to find a full thatch of dark blonde pubic hair between her thighs, but he certainly wasn’t disappointed.

When he ducked his head down to press his mouth against her cunt, Daniel was startled once again by the sharp metallic taste, the same as her tongue. It took him a moment to get used to, but then it faded quickly, and all Daniel could taste was a familiar mix of sweetness and salt.

Max sighed quietly when she came with her thighs flexing against Daniel’s face. He sat back, fingers shaking to unknot the front of his sweatpants, his cock so hard it almost hurt. Condoms, he remembered belatedly. There was a stash in his backpack on the other side of the bar.

“I’ll be right back,” Daniel reassured Max before running around to the front of the saloon to grab his bag.

The condoms weren’t in the pocket he remembered putting them in, which led to a frustrated scramble as Daniel searched every pocket and seam for them before finally finding them tucked between the pages of his notepad. He breathed out a quiet sigh of relief as he tore one away from the rest before hurrying back to where Max was waiting for him.

Only she wasn’t there.

Daniel stared down at the imprint in his pillow where Max’s head had just laid, his mind conjuring up a vivid memory of her moonlit blonde hair standing out starkly against the black fabric. He stood up slowly, examining every corner of the saloon for any sign of her, but she was just…gone.

“Daniel.”

He turned his head to find the door to the saloon hanging open on its hinges. Through the darkened entryway, he caught a glimpse of something out in the sagebrush, a distinct silhouette with bright eyes, reflective like an animal’s, but whatever it was he’d seen, it disappeared too quickly for Daniel to get a good look at it.

Daniel slowly stumbled over to the open doorway. He peered outside cautiously, taking note of his truck, which was parked on its own next to the vacant spot that Max’s vehicle had occupied before he’d left for Austin yesterday. It didn’t make sense. He should have heard her pulling in, loud enough to wake him, or at the very least, driving off again. Had she parked further down the road? How had she gotten out of the saloon without him seeing her?

Daniel swallowed, trying to clear his throat so he could call out to her, but as he stared out over the lonely valley, his vocal cords seized up, a paralyzing fear suddenly washing over him like a tidal wave. Daniel stood there just a moment longer, and then reached forward to slam the saloon door shut. His fingers were trembling as he secured the deadbolt. It was a long time before he managed to fall asleep.

Daniel woke the next morning to the sound of tires crunching against the gravel outside the saloon. He ripped himself from his sleeping bag immediately and stumbled out into the daylight, his eyes slitted against the sun’s late-morning brightness as he watched Max hop down out of the cab of her truck, looking for all the world as though she’d had a perfectly peaceful evening.

“Where the hell did you go?” Daniel demanded as she walked over to the front door of the saloon.

Max paused, looking a bit startled by the venom in his tone. “Didn’t you see my note?” she asked.

“I mean last night. What the hell is wrong with you?”

“What the hell is wrong with you?” Max countered. “I left yesterday right after you did. I just got back. And good morning to you, too, by the way.” She stormed past him into the saloon with a quiet ‘asshole’ muttered under her breath.

Daniel remained standing there on the front porch for a minute or two, he wasn’t quite sure. When he finally came back inside, he walked straight past Max and into the backroom, which might have served as living quarters once upon a time before the gaping hole in the wall had rendered it unusable. The mirror still worked, though, for all its spiderweb cracks and layers of dust, and Daniel approached it with a trembling hand pressed to his collar.

Daniel stood in front of the mirror for a few seconds, just staring at his own reflection as if to reassure himself that he was still real, and then at last, tugged down the neck of his t-shirt to reveal a pattern of pale white marks that trailed down the side of his throat to his sternum, tracing the exact path of Max’s mouth the night before. They weren’t bruises—the exact opposite, in fact, as though the pigment in his skin had literally been leached from the places where she’d marked him.

All Daniel could hear was the sound of his own heartbeat pounding in his ears as he stared at the marks. Then something—a face in the mirror that wasn’t his own. Daniel whipped around to find nothing waiting over his shoulder, just the same gap in the wall that had always been there, opening up onto the sagebrush-covered landscape, illuminated fully under the bright sunlight.

But Daniel could have sworn he’d seen something.

When he finally emerged from the backroom a few minutes later, Max was standing at the bar, her eyebrows furrowed in concern. “Are you feeling okay?” she asked him.

Daniel nodded. “Fine,” he lied. “Just a little….” He paused and swallowed hard. “Have you noticed anything strange lately?”

“Strange like what?” Max asked.

Daniel just shrugged.

Max laughed. “You should really stop letting the locals tell you ghost stories about this place,” she advised.

Daniel forced a smile and nodded. “You’re right,” he told her.

“Come on, then,” she said. “Let’s get back to work.”

[mortuary-reads]

“I, Miquella, beseech thee; become our muse. Make Motherly in my Age of Compassion.”

Embraced in Purpose

18+ MDNI

Slight Female OC x Leda, Female OC x Miquella x Radahn

Summary~ Seraphin is just as loving and loyal as she was the day she met Kindly Miquella. Now the God of the Age of Compassion is eager to ask an enormous favor of her.

Warning~ Cult-like behavior, sex implied, pregnancy mentioned, F/M/M, sibling incest

Word Count~ 2,979

Author's Note~ Just a heads up, this is a dialogue heavy fic with a lot of sitting, lol. If you haven’t already, please check out Embraced in Light here or on Ao3 before reading this one so you can get an idea of what’s going on... Or don’t, I can’t stop you, haha.

A quick shout out to @unusualindigo , whose fic had me contemplating about what life would be like after Miquella's ascension. And to @empyreau , whose posts opened me up more into thinking about Miquella more intimately. Unknown to both of you, you've played a small part in this whole piece. For that, I thank you.✨️

Header found here

Dividers made by~ @sweetmelodygraphics

Miquella's success in becoming a God came as no surprise to Seraphin. After months of trudging alongside Leda in the Land of Shadow, and being of aid to other followers like herself, they were all granted sanctuary where the Erdtree used to stand. As the ashes of the old tree faded into nutrients for the soil, The Lands Between, and even Caelid regained some of its formal color and life. A beautiful castle of white stone and gold had been erected in its place, even more grand than anything she'd ever seen.

Inside this new castle was a paradise of gleaming luxury and flora. Vines snaked their way lovingly around the entirety of the inside columns and walls. Statues of Miquella’s family were constructed around the castle to look after their new home. Rooms were adorned in silk and gold and marble; but nothing was more beautiful than the central garden.

Four arches from north, east, south, and west opened up to golden paths that led to a three layer stone fountain that stood in the middle of the circular room. At the very top was a sculpture of Miquella and his sister, Malenia. The sculpted Miquella stood tall, his cupped hands overflowing with crystal clear water. The water fell directly onto the carved helmet on Malenias’ head who was under him facing the entrance of the garden on one knee, her katana out to the side, always there to protect her brother.

The tall decorated glass dome above provided the most beautiful light as rainbows were cast down on the curated forest below. Butterflies of all different colors, and sweet prancing fawn were the garden’s citizens. Any who entered were happily greeted by both.

Seraphin’s giggle echoed throughout the garden as she shooed a very insistent butterfly away from Leda's face. They both sat at the base of the fountain, Leda with one knee drawn up and back against the rounded stone, and Seraphin sitting sideways, close to her rested thigh.

"Your hair, the way it frames your face is divine.."

Seraphin blushed as Leda took a long prussian lock into her calloused hands and rubbed it gently with her thumb. “Divine?”

“Yes, quite. And I smell a hint of… pomegranate emanating from you, no?”

“‘Tis. I’m happy you noticed.” She'd worn it specifically for this meeting.

“It’s always a blessing to witness thy beauty enhanced.” 

Leda gently dropped Seraphin's hair on her shoulder and grabbed her hand, "I remember how sweet your face looked when I first came upon you at the Gravesite Plain; dirty, yet calm and strong. As jealous and untrusting as I was, your enthusiasm and dedication eased my mind. You proved yourself more worthy than any of the other livestock I'd collected." She raised Seraphins’ hand to her mouth and delicately kissed her wrist, her lips ever so slightly sticking to her skin. Seraphin shuddered, a strong chill branching throughout her body from the growing knot in her lower abdomen. She hadn't felt this way in such a long time; not since she first met Sorcerer Rogier at the Round Table Hold many, many moons ago.

"You shouldn't speak so harshly of others. We all helped in Lord Miquella's ascension, shouldn't that matter?"

Leda breathed deeply of her skin and exhaled slowly. "You are right. I take too much comfort in our time together. Forgive me."

Seraphin traced her finger along Leda's cheek, softer now that she wasn't always fighting. They're growing movement closer to each other was mutual, their lips pouted, ready to plant them together....

"Seraphin?" A light, raspy voice as gentle as the rustle of leaves came in the distance.

The girls smiled at each other, disappointed, but slightly amused at their situation. They knew exactly who the voice belonged to. Miquella's godly glow appeared before his body did, the soft golden light penetrating through the trees. "There you are." 

Miquella seemed to float over to where they sat and smiled warmly at them. Both girls shifted to their knees and bowed their heads.

“Your presence graces us immensely, Lord Miquella.” Leda said.

The Gods’ smile grew. “I am warmed by your words. You may rise.”

Leda jumped up by herself, and reached her hand out to Seraphin, who took it gently and rose to her feet, nodding her head slightly as thanks.

 Miquella looked at the blue haired girl, "Seraphin, I must speak with thee." 

“Of course.” She flattened the torso of her sage green and gold gown.

He turned around without another word and walked down the path he came. She immediately followed, turning her head back once to see a lone Leda smiling sadly after them.

“Walk beside me.” He gestured to his right. Seraphin followed his hand and stayed at his pace. She could never stop herself from looking up at the extravagance of the halls any time she made her way through the castle.

“The garden is radiant.” He said, still looking ahead.

“Oh, yes! I am most grateful for your appointing me with the others to tend to it.”

“A wonderful job I knew you’d be trusted with.”

Seraphin beamed with pride from his compliment.

As they walked together, the large, red-haired Radahn rounded a corner. Seraphin made brief eye contact with him before sheepishly putting her head down. She stayed back a couple of steps as the two husbands stopped in front of each other. 

“My Love.” Miquella called joyfully. 

Radahn took the pale Gods’ hand and kissed it, with no emotion on his face. “The final wall at the end of the city has been finished. We’ve decided to place three cannons on the back entrance.”

“Wonderful news. You must take this to Leda.”

“I was on my way to find her.”

“She was just in the garden. I took my sweet Seraphin from her.” The blonde giggled.

At the mention of her name, Seraphin looked up and blushed.

Radahn eyed her intensely before speaking again. “Then I shall make this quick and get back to you as soon as I can.”

“I thank thee.”

He kissed Miquellas’ hand again and swiftly made his way past the two and through an archway they had just come from.

“Come.” Miquella said, walking again. 

Seraphin came to his side, now with slight unease. Lord Radahn was never talked about, but widely avoided in silent agreement among the followers in the palace. He brought about an air of negativity that Kindly Miquella said would pass with time, and that it was important to give him the grace to improve as his consort. That didn’t stop her from shuddering every time she saw the red haired brute. She didn’t like one so harsh near her beloved God, but wouldn’t dare think much further on the matter.

Seraphin grew worried at Miquella’s silence as they moved through the castle. “My Lord, where are we going?” She found the courage to ask. 

“My favorite place. Not to worry, we’re almost there.” He tittered. They turned a sharp corner, and down the short hallway stood grand dark wooden doors with a tree etched into the middle of them “Ah, here!”

She stared in awe as they walked up to them. Miquella raised his hand and with no sound at all, the doors opened on their own. Seraphin’s mouth fell open as they entered. It was a large open room with creme walls and white pillars. The space opposite them where there should've been a wall was completely open; a balcony overlooking the newly built city. To the right, a giant sheer canopy hung above a vast white, circular bed adorned with many pillows and cushions.. 

Seraphins’ face grew bright red as the realization of where she was hit her. 

Miquella looked at her and chuckled, “Isn’t it marvelous?” Miquella chuckled, taking her hand and walking her over to the bed.

“Oh, yes. I can see why you adore it so.” She said in awe, dazedly following her Lord.

Seraphin knelt on the floor at Miquellas’ feet, memories of their first meeting swirling in her mind. He ran his fingers through her hair, sending tingles throughout her body. Gazing up at his glowing form made her drunk with love almost instantaneously, leaving her body and eyelids feeling heavy.

“I…feel like I haven’t thanked you enough for everything.”

Before Miquella could respond, the doors to the bed-chamber opened. Both figures looked to see Radahn walking in slowly. He looked unnatural, not used to moving in such short strides. After eyeing the blue haired girl over he looked at Miquella.

“Not yet.” was all Miquella said. Radahn grunted and led himself to one of the giant pillars to lean on

“What’s going on?” Seraphin asked in a low voice, unease starting to ripple in her gut again.

“I am tremendously happy,” Miquella began, “with how you have grown. Your unwavering loyalty to me has not only strengthened the love of my followers, but us as well.” He gave a quick smile to Radahn then back to the girl. 

She was confused, but remained silent.

Sensing her skepticism, the God continued, “Yes, it’s true. You are precious among these walls. As my husband roams from time to time, he hears voices of happiness that whisper your name. You have become a paragon of my divinity, and I cannot thank you enough for that.”

“P-paragon…” Seraphin felt dizzy. Not me…

“You may not draw swords, or claim blood on the battlefield for my cause, but your heart and eagerness have just as much power”

She felt an intense tugging at her core, that deep yearning she felt anytime Miquella was around her. She craved his praise, her soul lapping up every bit of affection like a dog.

“Your eyes,” he hummed, gently cupping his hand under her chin and lifting her head higher, “have always left me mesmerized.”

Seraphin was surprised at this as a shadow of sadness overtook her longing. “Is that… why you’ve never offered to fix them?” The words left Seraphins’ mouth before she could even think. She immediately regretted asking after seeing his frown.

“I will not lie to you. Indeed, what you have suffered has gifted you with traits I find pleasing. The darkness your left eye holds is a precious reminder of what brought you to me. To me.” His last words sounded almost… possessive? Miquella lowered his hand.

Her stomach turned. “Lady Leda told me your mark upon her eyes has left her with the brightest hope and mind. Her eyes are beautiful! Will I never earn such a gift?” 

“No.” Miquella said. “Leda’s hardened heart needed to be mended. For you, there is nothing to mend. ”

“I am flattered by your convictions.” Her face was rosy red and hot at the God’s flow of praise.

He smiled wide. “With that settled, I would like to talk to you about why I’ve brought you here.”

Radahn shifted in his position causing the blue haired girl’s body to flinch. Seraphin noticed a look of worry in Miquella’s face. “For many days and nights Radahn and I have been thinking about our future. We have made this new age bloom, but there is still something we cannot achieve on our own.”

“And… I can be of service?”

Miquella placed his soft hands on hers like he did so many moons ago, “Seraphin, I have something exceptionally important to ask of thee.”

She swallowed hard, anticipation building in her chest.

“I ask that you be the surrogate of our intended children.”

Her eyes widened. She felt her heart jolt, body cold from the shock. The room was filled with a thick silence as she let the heavy question fall on her brain. Neither three made a sound as Seraphin pondered. 

A surrogate…? A mother? To carry the life of a demi-god, I- I have never thought of Motherhood before…

 “H-how could I fulfill this role-?” Her lips trembled.

Miquella’s grip on Seraphins’ hands gently tightened. “Lay with us.” He said softly, passion spilling into his words.

“Us?” Oh, dear.

As if on cue, Radahn made his way to the opposite side of the bed and stared down at the girl. She glanced at the red-haired brute and placed her gaze back on Miquella. A moment of fear flashed across her mind as she thought about what that could actually mean.

“My Lord,” Seraphin took a deep breath, anxiety flowing in her veins, “I desire nothing more than to serve you… to please you with all of me.” Her body shook noticeably more than she wanted. “You have made me whole with love and purpose, aiding in something greater than I. Not once have I thought to see thee in such a mortal way. It seems almost impious.” She lowered her head, flustered.

Miquella swept his hand across her cheek. “And that is why I have chosen thee. I need a kind and nurturing bearer to my offspring. No Outer Gods will curse our children. No demi-god will have to suffer as I and my siblings have suffered.

Never did Seraphin think she would see such need in a God’s face. It intrigued her just as much as it frightened her. 

He raised her hands and held them, gently squeezing her fingers.

“I, Miquella, beseech thee; become our muse. Make Motherly in my Age of Compassion.”

Seraphin felt as if she would burst with emotion. The deity she worshipped for so long was now asking to Know her. 

Would I truly even make a good mother? Good enough for my Lord? As a God, he would surely know his worshipper just as his own skin.

It felt wrong, but she knew just as the day she’d met Miquella, that by casting away her doubts and embracing her role, she could serve him in an even finer way, and be rewarded well. 

She stared deep into his golden eyes and said slowly, 

“I could never deny you. My body is in your service to use. My affection for you will bear only the most loving of children, Kindly Miquella.”

Miquella lifted his legs and slid his way to the top of the bed. He leaned back on the numerous silken pillows, arms outstretched to her. “Come, Seraphin, let us create together!”

His laughter echoed like bells throughout the vast room.

N-now? The same knot she felt with Leda grew once more in Seraphins’ stomach. I feel I may lose myself if this feeling gets any stronger…

The blue haired girl climbed onto the bed and crawled to Miquella. She hesitated as she observed his form.

“Do not be afraid.” He said, “In these chambers we are equals.”

She nodded, moving to his side, placing her hands on the bed on either side of him. Her face was now mere inches away from the glowing man before her. His breath felt like warm rays of sun, and smelled of lilies.

“Then my Lord, if I may be so bold…as to…” Her head seemed to move on its own as she placed a tender kiss on his lips. She felt his hands hold her cheeks as he deepened the kiss. There was a rustling sound behind her, but she didn’t care, the only thing on her mind was the beautiful God before her pushing his tongue into her mouth. Miquellas’ hands moved from her cheeks to her shoulders, his fingers playing with the teardrop pearls that hung from the fabric of her dress.

“Undress thyself.” He whispered.

Without a second thought, Seraphin pulled her garments over her head and tossed them on the ground. She turned back to see Miquella himself stripping the white gown from his body. He was slender, but muscular. With the slight curve in his waist, he had both a masculine and feminine figure that she found to be irresistible.

By all the Gods, how did I end up here…?

He leaned back again, this time taking Seraphins’ hand and leading her to him faster. His skin was just as soft as the silk beneath them, smooth and flawless. Her prussian hair fell around them as they embraced in another kiss.

Something hard and warm pressed itself into her back, and she gasped. The rugged outline of a naked chest became clear to Seraphin as she heard heavy breathing behind her. She pulled away from Miquella and watched as he gazed endearingly above her head.

“I was hoping you would join us soon.” He chuckled, lifting his body up to greet his husband. “We’ll show her how loved she can be. Let us have our children, my Red Lion, and we will set our mark eternally upon these lands.”

Seraphin was wedged in between them, their skin warming her up like a fire. As Miquella embraced Radahn, she was brought closer to his neck. She laid gentle kisses on his throat, his mane of curls tickling her nose. He came back down, playfully pulling Seraphin with him. They giggled through a passionate kiss, hands caressing each others’ bodies. She moaned into his mouth as the man behind her placed his hands on her hips, bending down so that his mouth was level with her ear. The smell of spiced honey and musk penetrated her nostrils as long red hair tickled her back.

“Miquella commands me, for I owe my life to him.” Radahn's deep voice rang. “And I shall worship you as Mother, for your gift to us is greater than ours to thee.”

His words in addition to his roaming hands caused another moan to escape her lips. They were a tangle of limbs; moans of lust and excitement filled the bedchamber as the sky turned from pink to black, the brilliant stars picking up what the sun had started; there to illuminate their fruitful consummation with the devotion and love of a follower to her God.

Thank you so much for reading! <3

I don't know if I will yet, but if this gets enough love, I'm thinking of drawing out their love-making scene in detail into a whole other fic. What do y'all think?

[steddieunderdogfics]

This week’s writer spotlight feature is: Medusapelagia! They have 131 fics written for the Stranger Things fandom and 92 of those fics are in the Steddie tag!

The nominator recommends the following works by @medusapelagia:

I'm so good at telling lies (That came from my mother's side)

You're the home my heart searched for so long

The Party

It can't rain all the time

"They are such a bright light within the Steddie Event side of the fandom! Always encouraging others and offering support. They're so creative and have a fic for everyone!!" - anonymous

Below the cut, @medusapelagia answered some questions about their writing process and some of their recommended work!

Why do you write Steddie?

Because I’m obsessed with them! It’s the first time I write fics in years and the first time I do that in English, but it was so clear that Steve and Eddie were meant to be together that I got back into reading, and then writing, Steddie fics as soon as Season 4 ended! Have you seen how they look at each other? The love story is already there! The Duffer Brothers did us a big favor and gave us the possibility to give them thousands of different stories in different timelines and different universes: how could I not join when there is so much to write?

What’s your favorite trope to READ?

I love pain: you can put my heart through a meat grinder and I'll say "Thank you!" IF you promise me a happy ending. I'm ready to cry with the characters but in the end it must be worth it, that's why Angst and Hurt/comfort are my favorite tropes (always with a happy ending).

What’s your favorite trope to WRITE?

I love writing about feelings and I need A LOT of time to get the characters where I want them, that's why almost everything I write is Slow Burn… and Angst with a happy ending, but that's another story!

What’s your favorite Steddie fic?

This is SO hard so… I’m going to cheat a little and give you three. The first fic I was obsessed with in 2022: wanna hurt you just to hear you screaming my name by DotyTakeThisDown a modern AU where Eddie is the owner of BDSM Club; My guilty pleasure: I Made Loving You A Blood Sport by Eddywow I love everything they write but this omegaverse fic it's absolutely my favorite; And my latest obsession: a man after midnight (professional dom eddie fic) a series by lydiah135 with a Transmasculine Dom Eddie.

Is there a trope you’re excited to explore in a future work but haven’t yet?

Oh yes!!! I’m working on a new troupe for my Reverse Big Bang fic (can’t spoil it, sorry) and I’m so excited about it! It’s absolutely the first time that I’m working with this troupe and I’m so eager to share it with everyone! Another new troupe I’m working on is... Supernatural. I have two fics I’m working on right now but I have many events with a deadline (I’m addicted to ST events!) so I don’t know when I will actually start to post them.

What is your writing process like?

A complete chaos! I have an idea about the beginning of my story and how I would like to end it and I try to follow a particular vibe: what happens in the middle it’s just me trying to convince my characters to get where I want them (and I must admit that we aren’t always on the same page!). A few times I tried to plot ahead and it was a peculiar feeling: on one side when I finally got the time to write (usually after dinner and before bed) I had an outline so I didn't get blank page panic, but on the other side I got bored because I already knew the story.

Do you have any writing quirks?

I’m a fast writer and I want to get to the end of the story as soon as I can (both as a reader and as a writer) which means that sometimes I have to edit and slow down the pace a bit, and… I write a lot of dialogues.

Do you prefer posting when you’ve finished writing or on a schedule?

They are two completely different ways of writing: posting on schedule assures you some interactions (which helps you get motivated to continue the story), on the other side right now I’m working on a some projects for some events and writing a complete story gives you the opportunity to fix something you might have missed or not written because in your mind it was implied (spoiler alert: probably it wasn’t!) but not having interactions can be hard, and I'm so happy I meet some friends online that can give me some pieces of advice when in doubt!

Which fic are you most proud of?

There are two (yeah… I’m cheating again! Sorry!). The first one is Guilty, because it’s the first fic I ever wrote in English, the second one is Never Again, because it’s a double timeline and a double POV and I managed to get to. the end without plotting or getting lost somewhere!

How did you get the idea for I'm so good at telling lies (That came from my mother's side)?

I saw Matthew Bourne's Swan Lake (it's a male version of the famous ballet) and, in my mind, it was perfect with Steve’s story (my headcanon Steve obviously) so I was trying to find the right plot and I had this image in my mind of the ballerina carillon and I couldn't find a way to mix those two things. Then someone on Twitter suggested an Omegaverse Ballet AU fic and it immediately clicked with me: the connection between the carillon and the Swan Lake was Omega Steve! I asked the idea owner if they were fine with me writing the story they suggested, they said yes, and I started writing it… but I didn’t post it until I was at chapter 6 or 7 because it was my first Omegaverse fic and I was scared that everyone would have hated it or that I would have written something wrong or whatever. Then two of my favorite writers wrote a post on Tumblr about the fact that everyone should write what they like and it feels obvious, right? But sometimes facing external opinions can be scary. So I gathered my courage and took it as a sign: the next day I woke up at 4 am and I posted the first chapter because I was having so much fun writing it that I decided it deserved to be shared and I’m glad I did.

When writing It can't rain all the time, what was something you didn’t expect?

That someone else would have liked it! It’s a Crow AU and the Crow is a very, very, very dark story (both the movie and the comics) but it’s one of my favorite movies ever and I saw so many similarities between Eric Draven and Eddie Munson that when the idea came to my mind I wonder how was it possible that no one else thought about it! It's peculiar that after I started to post it I saw some artists draw Eddie as Eric (maybe it was a happy coincidence, maybe it was just the algorithm, anyway I'm glad someone else saw the similarities too!).

What inspired You're the home my heart searched for so long?

That story comes from a prompt that I saw during the Steddie Holiday Exchange and I immediately fell in love with it and I was SO happy when it was assigned to me! Still… I had some difficulties at the beginning. The first version of the story wasn’t good: I was writing it from Steve’s POV and it was super sad and I started to panic a little bit because I knew I had a deadline and I didn’t want to disappoint my giftee. Thankfully I brainstormed with some friends (brainstorming is my favorite thing ever!) and finally got the idea of Famous Influencer Steve, which led me to change the POV of the story to Eddie’s POV and from that moment on everything fell in place like magic! I also had to add a few Shrek references to my story and it was a little bit tricky but in the end, I think I’m satisfied with my story.

What was your favorite part to write from I'm so good at telling lies (That came from my mother's side)?

I loved writing the OCs that perform (and sometimes live) at the Crooked Moon. The idea of the Crooked Moon is vaguely inspired by Land of the Dead in Tim Burton's The Corpse Bride: they are the strangest kind of pack ever but everything at the Crooked Moon is bright and colorful, and they give Steve the support he needs to be finally himself.

How do/did you feel writing The party?

Oh… the party is… a sad story (with a happy ending). Is anyone surprised? It's a fic I wrote for the Steddie Week, the first event I joined and at the time I wasn't even on Tumblr. I love to torture Steve (that's why no character is eager to be my favorite I think…) and I felt like his birthday should have been on a date that everyone could have forgotten easily, so I decided that his birthday was on the 25th of December: a day when everyone is busy spending time with their family while Steve would be left home alone. And just to add trauma to trauma I added my personal experience as a gift giver! I'm a pretty good one: I listen a lot, I take notes and I buy presents months before. On the other side, no one does the same for me and I usually get money which, don't get me wrong, is great, but what I like the most about gifts (and so does Steve because I'm absolutely projecting on him!) is taking the time to search for something that the other person might like. It's not about the object, per se, but it's about the time and the care you put into it, it's a way of saying "I care about you." instead of "I didn't know what to get you so buy yourself what you want." If there is any other gift giver who lives the same trauma as me we can go to therapy together!

What was the most difficult part of writing You're the home my heart searched for so long?

The smut. It was my first smut fic ever and it wasn't super easy, but luckily I had a friend who read a couple of parts of it and gave me a few pieces of advice (thank you!!!). It was a fic with a masseur Eddie: I needed to write some smut no matter what!

Do you have a favorite scene and/or line from any of your fics?

I love bratty Steve and I don’t write it enough, so this is a little banter between him and Eddie from My lucky charm, an omegaverse fic. <<Steve stiffens for a moment, then comes back to his sweet attitude and sits near Eddie, playing with his hair. “I didn’t think you were the kind of owner who plays. What do they say? Oh, yes, the house always wins, right?” “Sometimes I like some action too.” Eddie replies and takes the dice, “Why don’t you blow on my dice? For good luck.” Steve bends and blows gently on Eddie’s hand, then the owner of the casino turns toward the guard and makes a little gesture: they grab the old alpha and drag him away “You know what? I don’t think I’ll play. I don’t like these dice.” Eddie states. “Why not?” Steve asks with a little wrinkle on his perfect skin. “Because they are loaded dice.” Eddie replies and lets the dice fall on the green table with a seven. “Maybe you are just lucky.” Steve replies, still smiling. The omega has removed his patches and the sweet scent of lemon and lavender is filling the room. “I see what you are doing, sugar, but I’ll not get feral over your incredible smell. As you said, I’m the young owner of a casino, I’m trained to detect who is cheating and I will not fall for you.”>>

Do you have any upcoming projects or fics you’d like to share/promote?

At the moment I’m working really hard on my Reverse Big Bang fic and My Steddie VDay Exchange and I can’t wait to share them.

Outside of these questions, Is there anything YOU would like to add?

I’m absolutely astonished, flattered and honored that someone thought about me for Writer’s Spotlight Day so I would like to thank the person who nominated me and the mods for giving space to all the beautiful stories that we might have missed in such a big fandom. Thank you for having me and I look forward to the next fics rec! Medusa

Thank you to our author, @medusapelagia! See more of @medusapelagia works featured on our page throughout the day!

Writer’s Spotlight is every Wednesday! Want to nominate an author? You can nominate them here!

[tastybluesprite]

The Kaiser Effect (Blue Lock)

New Blue Lock fic!!!! I’m trying to post more of these. I have some others that I started but still haven’t finished yet lol. I might try working on them and posting them. So yeah here’s some ler!Kaiser and lee!Isagi because I love them. My favorite frienimies lol. Hope you like it! I put more romantic undertones but can be seen as platonic or romantic.

Warnings: Some cursing, also this is a tickle fic so if that’s not your thing then feel free to just keep scrolling.

Summery: When Isagi accidentally walks in on Kaiser working out… well chaos lol…

Isagi flopped back on his new bed. He couldn’t believe how far he made it. Especially after the U-20 match. That alone felt unreal. First it was meeting Noel Noa, his hero! He didn’t ever dream he’d get to meet him so soon. He felt pretty happy with his choice of joining Germany, Munchen Bastards.

After the game between them and Manshine City, Nagi and Reos team, he was feeling more confident than he ever had. He even managed to earn the title “Man of the Match.”

The only thing standing in his way at the moment, was that jackass of a player. Michael Kaiser. He already knew he wanted to take the guy down despite the fact that they’re on the same team.

Just thinking about him made Isagi riled up. Finally breaking out of his thoughts, he sat up. “I’m gonna go train a bit.” He told Kurona, who was seated on his own bed next to him.

“Alright.” Kurona replied with a slight nod as he scrolled through his phone.

When Isagi made it to the training room, he could’ve fainted from shock of such coincidence.

There he was. Michael Kaiser. The blonde with blue tips looked towards him as he was in the middle of lifting some weights.

“Hello there Yoichi.” Kaiser greeted him when he looked up from his weights, bearing an as-if friendly grin.

“Hey…” Isagi said awkwardly, going for the yoga mats. He had taken a leaf out of Rin Itoshis book to try and do more yoga stretching. Isagi figured he needed to have more routine if he was going to surpass all the great players. He took off his sports jacket, revealing his black tank top, somewhat broad shoulders, and muscular biceps. All the training he’d been doing for Blue Lock really bulked him up a lot.

“Yoga huh?” Kaiser asked, tilting his head.

Yoichi Isagi shrugged. “I’m trying to stretch more. I want to gain more flexibility to better improve out on the field.”

“How is flexibility going to make you a better player?” Kaiser asked him, raising an eyebrow. He actually got up and took a seat on the floor next to the younger boy.

Isagi frowned. Did he really need to explain himself to a guy like this? Then he shrugged. “It’s just a routine I’m trying to implement more in my training. I Uh… picked up up from a friend.”

Kaiser grinned. “Well obviously it’s doing something then huh? You sure are a lot more built than you seem.” Kaiser smirked as he poked at his biceps.

Isagi ignored the tingling sensation from the touch as he leaned himself away.

“Do you have abs too…?” Nothing, absolutely nothing, could’ve prepared Isagi for when Kaiser then began grabbing at his abdomen, causing an electrical shock-like sensation to the nerves there. Isagi accidentally let out a loud squeak as he flinched.

They both froze for a second, Kaiser looking Isagi with an expression of surprise.

“Whoops, my bad Isagi. Did I tickle you?”

His smirk only deepened.

And before Isagi could tell the guy to fuck off, Kaiser grabbed his sides.

“W-wahahahahahahahait!!!” Isagi let out a shriek before desolving into giggles, uselessly trying to protect his body with his arms.

“Wow that Igaguri fellow was right. You really are ticklish. Here I was thinking I’d have to wait a while until I could do this. But this is better than l had hoped.”

Isagi was distantly thinking how much he wanted to murder Igaguri, when the blonde stuck his fingers up his underarms, which was worse than it usually was due to the fact that he was wearing a tank top.

“S-stohOHoHohohohoahap!!!” Isagi protested, trying to squirm away. God this was so humiliating. He was being rendered to a helpless puddle of giggles in front of one of the regulars of the pro German team.

Unfortunately things became far from over, when Kaiser went for his belly once more.

Isagi shrieked, falling onto his back as he uselessly pushed at the hand that was digging into his belly mercilessly.

“G-GYAHH NOhoHoho PLEhEhEAHaSE!!!!” Isagi squealed. He fucking squealed. Someone either save him or murder him. Then again there would be no difference for him between the two.

“Aw does the great and powerful egoist striker have a sensitive belly~” Kaiser teased with a grin. He honestly couldn’t help find this endearing, watching the younger squirm and kick on the floor, bubbly laughter spilling out of him.

“Hey Isagi, your friend told me another thing. He said that you particularly love to be tickled right here…” Kaiser then brought his hands to either side of his lower ribs, digging into the spot roughly.

Isagi seemed to almost be electrocuted, as he jolted, a screech ripping from his throat.

Just great. The guy just had to get his worst spot. Fantastic.

“Man you are way too ticklish for your own good.” Kaiser chuckled.

“SHUHUHUT THEHE FUHUHUCK UHUHUP AHAHAHAHAHA!!!!”

Kaiser honestly couldn’t help be entranced. The boys cheeks were flushed red, tears beading his eyes, his mouth in a face splitting smile. If he had a word to describe it, that word could only be “adorable.”

Soon Isagis laughter was growing hysterically silent, and he became so weak that he merely lay limp. Kaiser, breaking out of his trance, noticed this of course, and understood he needed a break.

Isagi panted, breathless on the floor. “W…what… t-the… hell… d-dammit…” Isagi was too tired out now to say any form of retort.

Kaiser then suddenly bursted into laughter of his own.

Isagi flinched at the sudden noise, sitting up as he watched his new teammate crumble to pieces with laughter.

“OHohoho myhy gohohod…” Kaiser managed, trying to control himself.

He soon managed to regain his composure. “Hah… wohow… I hahave to say I haven’t laughed so hard in a whihile. Felt amazihing.” Kaiser said, some giggles still escaping.

Isagi frowned. “What are you laughing about?”

Kaiser grinned. “Because I think you’re adorable Yoichi Isagi. I look forward to battling together in the next game.” He said as he got up, making his way towards the door.

Little did he know that the young boy, upon realizing what he had just said, became so red in the face, that he thought he might explode. His brain felt damn near broken.

He supposed that was just the Kaiser effect.

[bucky-boychik-barnes]

Ages ago, @awrubyblue made some fanart with Bucky finding a pocket size version of Steve. (Sadly I am unable to find them now, or I would link to them.)

My shipper brain immediately ran wild with a new type of Soulmate AU. Where you get a little version of your soulmate to carry around - I called it Pockets AU. And after blabbing on and on and on and on and on to my friend @subluxate about it, they made this AMAZING fic.

I finally remembered to ask permission to post it. I hope you enjoy. (Let me know if you do, they also wrote a fic about Steeb after Steve gets the serum.)

---

Characters: Sarah Rogers, Steve Rogers, Bucky Barnes, Steeb, Booky

Timeline: 1910s, very pre CA:TFA

Pairing: Steve Rogers/Bucky Barnes

Genre: Soulmates, Kids, Wholesome, Shortfic, idk genres anymore just tropes

Word Count: 898

Steven is still snoring away when Sarah walks back to the bed they share. He’s rosy-cheeked, not fever-flushed like he tends to be when he makes noise like that, but then it’s getting to be autumn and his allergies do kick up around the middle of September.

“Wake up, love,” she says over the monstrous sounds coming from her wee lad. “Time for breakfast.”

His ready alertness, such a trial when he’s ill, is a blessing the precious times he’s well. He pushes himself up and smiles at her, covering a yawn with his hand. He thinks she doesn’t know he’s lost a tooth a bit before it was ready to come out, which tells her all she needs to know about how he lost it.

The yawn ends on a tiny squeak. Steven stares at her, his eyes huge in his narrow face.

“Got a pet mouse, have you?” Sarah asks for lack of anything else to say.

He shakes his head. “I didn’t do that.” He drops his hand from his mouth, and his thumb brushes against his pocket. A moment later, he’s yanked the pocket open--oh, she’s glad he didn’t pop a stitch, she has enough patching to do already--and is staring down into it. “Mama?”

Steven hasn’t called her ‘Mama’ since he declared himself a big boy on his birthday. “What is it?” she asks, already resigned to a dying kitten he found and forgot to mention.

He dips his other hand into the pocket. His fingers wiggle, and then he’s got hold of whatever it is and is drawing it free of the fabric. It whines and rolls over in Steven’s hand, burying its face against the ball of his thumb.

Sarah’s seen smaller, but not in some years, not since her younger sister woke to a similar little being sleeping under her hair. “That’s not a mouse,” she tells her son.

He shakes his head, his eyes never leaving the Pocket curling up in his hand. “It’s a Pocket,” he breathes. “Mama, I have a Pocket!”

Every house should have at least one, Sarah thinks as she leans down to kiss Steven’s forehead and get a better look at the pajama-clad little Pocket in her wee lad’s hand. “You’ll have to name your Pocket,” she tells him.

“I gotta think about it.” He sounds more congested, but he’s alert and still not fevered, so she stands and doesn’t stop him following her out to breakfast.

“I’m sorry we haven’t a thing for you to wear,” she tells the dark-haired little Pocket before she leaves for work, while Steven yanks on his short pants. “I’ll try to make you something tonight. Steven, mind the hems!”

The Pocket gives her a wide, sweet smile. He’s missing a tooth himself, the lower right front. She knew lads with smiles like that when she was a child herself, always either the most trouble or the most loyal. He babbles at her, a wash of playful happiness in the sounds, and Sarah wishes she could kiss his head.

Not that it would bother Steven or his Pocket, of course, but something always feels wrong to Sarah when she touches someone else’s Pocket. That seemed more common at home, but maybe it’s just living in the tenements and crowds that makes people so indifferent here. Half the time, they never seem to notice their hand has passed through a bit of someone’s love and soul.

“Make sure he names you today,” she continues to the Pocket. “He’s a mite stubborn sometimes, so you make sure he understands if you like a name, all right? Don’t go letting him run all over you.”

“Ma,” Steven groans at her. He finishes buttoning his shirt. “You’re giving him a bad impression of me!” His voice sounds thicker than it has the rest of the morning, enough that it takes her a moment to understand his words.

“A bad impression it might be, but an accurate one,” she says. “Remember your handkerchiefs, mind your teacher, I love you.” She kisses her boy’s head and lets herself out and does not worry about him making it to school on his own, just as she hasn’t worried since his first day.

-

She should have worried, she realizes when she gets home to find her son with a bruise rising on his jaw, a sturdy dark-haired lad about a year older than him, and the mending basket pulled out between them.

“Oh, Steven,” she sighs, since he’ll be disappointed if she doesn’t. “Who’s your friend, then?”

“Ma, this is Booky.” He sounds even worse than when she left, but it’s nothing a bit of steam won’t help. “Booky, this is my ma.”

“Booky?” she asks the lad, since she’s certain she hasn’t heard Steven correctly.

Possibly Booky hops to his feet. “Bucky, ma’am.” He smiles at her, sweet and wide and missing a tooth. “James Buchanan Barnes. I go to school with Stevie.”

“Steeb,” Steven grumbles, but he doesn’t do more than that.

“Nah, remember? That’s Steeb,” Bucky says, pointing to the tiniest Pocket Sarah has ever seen. He has wispy blond hair and looks as though he’s trying to climb Steven. “An’ that’s Booky.” This time, he points to the one rummaging through the mending.

“He’s not Booky!”

“He’s Booky,” Bucky confides to Sarah.

At least she can kiss the top of his head.

[mggslover]

hope you’re enjoying the holidays, babe!!

I wanted to ask if as a writer yourself, have you ever scrapped an idea you started working on already?

And your least favorite mgg role? (this might turn controversial)

hii!! thank you for your questions <33

tumblr deleted my response while i was in the middle of writing it, so here we go again:

i haven’t scrapped anything so far, but i’ve definitely thought about it and i’m sure i will at some point in the future.

i wanted to scrap ‘through thin walls’ since i was experimenting with a new writing style that i wasn’t really feeling, but i already did a poll where people voted on wanting to see that fic, so i couldn’t back out anymore (and i’m very glad i didn’t afterwards). as for ‘a holiday to remember’ i’ve thought about deleting it, because it didn’t get the interaction i usually get so i got a bit insecure, but the whole reason i posted that was because i wanted to see more fics that included crime and found family, so if i were to delete it i would go against my own goal + i do really love the duology.

as for the mgg question, i have only seen criminal minds (actually still on the last eps of s10🫣), 68 kill and king knight and genuinely really enjoyed all of those, so i’m evading the controversy lol. am planning to watch everything, but i’m scared my obsession will fade once there is no new content (praying ‘einstein’ will come soon 🙏🏼) so i’m just taking it very slow

edit: i also skimmed through horse girl only for the mgg scenes lmao. i might say that one as my least fav then, even though that one scene (iykyk) plays in my mind 24/7

edit edit: i have such a bad memory, i’ve also seen his scenes in dollface, i loved wes

[rigginsstreet]

first line analysis

tagged by @blood-mocha-latte

rules: post the first lines of up to 10 of your last fics/chapters posted on ao3 or your wips and try to draw some conclusions.

now you wanna try your life with sin

The bells over the entrance of Pop’s alert FP to the fact that there’s a new customer, but he doesn’t look up from his warm mug of black coffee - on the house, because Pop never lets him pay for anything, not when he comes in this late, especially not when he’s sporting a freshly blooming black eye or split lip or sometimes both. It’s neither tonight. Tonight he’s just… lonely. Not by any means, a new feeling for him, but sometimes it hits harder than others, especially now that he’s out on his own. Still beats living with his old man. He’s not complaining, it’s just, sometimes he needs to be around people. Even if it’s just Pop Tate. And whoever else is looking for company this side of the tracks so late at night.

2. on the back of a hurricane

61 days. That’s how long it’s been since Fred’s parents dropped him off in this place. What was only supposed to be a few weeks has turned into a few months, because the doctors don’t think he’s getting any better, haven’t seen any progress.

3. i carried you to the car and drove you home but you weren't making any sense.

It’s another party of the week, another reason to get shitfaced. Except this time Billy didn’t get the chance, because by the time he worked his way to his third beer, Steve had apparently decided to drown himself in the punch bowl, and, well, intervening needed to occur.

4. i know i must behave to contain all my emotion

Never again would Heather Teresa Holloway move across the country for a boy.

5. dreamed of all the different ways i had to make him glow

“My mom used to build blanket forts all the time,” Billy admits one night, out of the blue while he’s snuggled up against Steve’s side, cheek resting against his naked chest.

6. i want to tell you this story without having to confess anything.

It’s the third night this month Billy has shown up on his doorstep looking worse for wear. He’s lost track of how many times it’s been since they started being cordial to each other, before that made its way into something more serious, more all-consuming.

7. play time

Billy had this rule for himself: for every guy he hooked up with, he had to make a public spectacle of hooking up with a random girl. It helped ease any nerves he had about being found out. Make sure people see him acting like a heterosexual and no one will catch on that he’d rather be sucking dick. Balance out the universe a little bit.

8. parentdale tumblr drabbles

alice smith is about the last person gladys expects to see waltzing into the wyrm in the middle of the afternoon. not since she decided to abandon her club for the likes of her preppy ken doll boyfriend and all the other plastic neanderthals of the north side.

9. no one's gonna save you from the beast about to strike

He wakes up on the forest floor, surrounded by trees and the chirping of early morning birds, naked as the day he was born. As he was last night, the last memory he has before everything just… went black.

10. come on baby let me see what you hiding underneath

The sun beats down hot over Hawkins. Another one of those brutal summer days that leaves you panting by the time it takes to walk down your driveway.

what ive learned from this (what i already knew tbh lmao) is that i like to just drop right into a story. no preamble lets just get right to the point lmao

tagging @harrygroves @thatgirlwithasquid @imsodishy

[threewaysdivided]

I just wanted to say: I love your art and especially your banner rn by talos! also your fic as well thank you for creating everything that you do for people, it’s awesome!

Second: what’s something that you’ve been chewing on lately, story wise? What character conflict, or plot point can you tell me about (that doesn’t spoil too much of course)? I wanna hear your thoughts about the characters you write and your head-cannons on them too! Just spit some word vomit at me!

Thank you! 

My current banner art is actually a crop of the first paired piece I ever did to go with my Deathly Weapons fic.  (Specifically Chapter 11, which I still have a soft spot for since it’s one of earliest chapters that really let me lean into scratching the thing-I-haven’t-seen-too-often-in-fanfic itch.) 

I recently got my hands on a discounted Wacom (my digital art process got tanked a few years ago when my poor art-compatible hybrid tablet-laptop was tragically taken from us by a cracked motherboard) so I’m looking forward to getting into a faster art workflow again and maybe putting some new pieces out more easily.  I’d like to do more comic art pieces for the Chapter 18 mission, and there’s a silly little concept drawing for the planned Mission 5 that might be new-blog-banner material if it turns out nicely.  We’ll have to see how that goes.

As for what I’ve been chewing on story-wise lately… I’ve sort of been all over the place.  I’m still on burnout recovery so I’ve been letting myself move non-sequentially, working on the bits my brain feels like focussing on rather than trying to force creativity where the juice isn’t flowing.   (One of the things about being my type of writing-nerd is that “self-indulgent” for me means a story with plenty of material to analyse, which is very fun as a reader but has created a lot of work for myself as the writer.  As mentioned in another post, I have a full-blown TV-show-style story-bible for this one.)

Recently, my authorial ping-pong-ing has been going into a fair bit of spoiler territory.  There are some chunks of the Act III endgame plan which are underdeveloped in the specifics of what the big-boss bad-guys’ plan is, whether I want to involve the Anti-Ecto Acts more, and the logistics of both the counter-strategy our heroes are planning to use and how to make its more action-heavy parts look cool in writing.  When I’m not doing that I’ve been focussing a lot on the upcoming Wally-centric chapters, which are a set I’ve been wanting to keep schtum about since there’s a small potential spoiler mixed in and I don’t want to risk giving the game up or pre-setting people’s expectations before they have a chance to blind read (even if a few people have already made some close guesses in the comments).  It puts me in a bit of an odd-spot right now because the chapters I’m drafting are an immediate spoiler, the later sections I’m working on are a major spoiler and there’s a good chance that a lot of the character stuff going on in the middle won’t make a whole lot of coherent sense without prior context because of how I like to layer foreshadowing/development.

That said, Wally-centric chapters mean Wally thoughts, and of those I have plenty to share:

First of all, I want to establish that I really do like Wally as a character.  The DW chapter set comprising Flashpoints through to Equilibrium is going to explore and develop some of his flaws and insecurities, which means he isn’t going to be looking his best, but it’s not meant to be a Ron The Death Eater situation.  He’s just a complex person, and taking him warts and all means sometimes you have to get up close and personal on the warts.

Something that I’m maybe a bit over-conscious of when reviewing my DW story notes is worrying about letting Wally slide into just being punching-bag joke-fodder.  Wally is quippy, irreverent, a little tactless and prone to being a bit of an impulsive goober who sometimes gets possessed by teenage boner-brain, which makes him easy to fall back on as a default source of incidental levity (whether cracking the joke or being the punchline).  Because I’m now writing an 8-character ensemble where most non-focal characters only get a few lines per conversation, it’s easy for characters to slide into being defined by their strongest surface level trait(s)… and something I worry about with Wally is that his availability as a source of jokes runs the risk of Flanderisation into a disposable Scrappy/ Flirty Comic Relief, which isn’t his character.  Wally is actually really important – not just for his scientific book-smarts but for his perceptiveness, earnestness and ability to function as one of the emotional barometers for the squad – so I always have it in the back of my mind to make sure I include enough moments that actually demonstrate those qualities and the other characters’ appreciation of them/ their friendship, so that it counterbalances the more light-hearted goofery.

I think he’s walking the same tightrope as Sokka from Avatar: the Last Airbender – yes, he tends to take the L more often than the others for comedy purposes and sometimes he gets stuck with supremely dumb side-plots for the sake of tonal balance, but to claim that it’s the entirety of his characterisation really misses the point by a wide mile.

On that note, I actually really like the decision YJ!Animated decided to go with in its first and only season (ahem) in giving Wally a normal and functional family background.  I know that’s not the typical background for his comics counterparts (and no shade on other fan-writers who want to write AUs exploring the abuse dynamic, those are really interesting stories) but I think it was a smart deviation for the purposes of a large ensemble, and offered a fair bit of potential for cast-balance.  It lets him serve an important role as the normal one – not only as an easy window into what the current lives of ordinary middle-class civilians look like (which is good because ordinary people are who our heroes are donning the masks to protect) but also as a touch-stone for the others, most of whom either come from different cultures or from very atypical backgrounds.  Even if we discount the Impure Atlantean with military training, the ostracised White Martian and the Half-Alien clone-weapon, the other members of this line-up are an orphaned circus acrobat adopted by a billionaire, a girl from a dangerously dysfunctional criminal household where she was forced to fight her sibling, and a fledgling sorceress raised by an overprotective single Dad.  The others might intellectually understand what a “normal” childhood and family look like but they don’t necessarily know it as intuitively and intimately as Wally does.  That normality gives Wally the potential to be a more stable foundation for the others, a source of emotional contrast and of a necessary wholesome mundanity.  That is a good thing for the Team to have.  I think it also speaks volumes to the heart of his character.  For this Wally, the Flash and heroism weren’t an escape from a bad personal situation.  His life was actually pretty comfy and privileged - he didn’t experience a brutal wakeup to the injustices of the world or some other personal call to action.  This is a Wally who opted into the game because he loves the players and sincerely believes in their values and mission.  And while that might mean he has a more romanticised idea of what heroism entails – and will probably face some rough shocks down the line as that rosy vision runs into those more brutal realities – it also means he brings a sincere hopefulness to the job that is less hardened than a lot of his roughed-up, pre-jaded peers.  Underneath the teen sarcasm and surface-level lancer/smart-guy traits, this Wally has as much power to be a stealth-Heart as any of his Flash!counterparts.

Something else I find interesting when using Wally is how a lot of his strengths and flaws feed into each other – and I think this alternate backstory is part of it.  For all of his good heart Wally can come off as insensitive, and I think some of that could be read as a product of living a more charmed life.  I think he’s susceptible to a thing that a lot of real people do – universalising their own personal experience as the default – and that while he is canonically a geek and somewhat genre-savvy about hero cliches, he’s a geek about in-universe media so he probably doesn’t think to apply those tropes to “real people” like himself or his colleagues.  While this Wally is a skeptic, he’s not a cynic, and I think he might forget how much of an outlier he is in a world where things like living parents and loving parents are often mutually exclusive.  He’s smart enough to connect dots but there’s a little blind-spot where he simply might not think to until one of the others jabs an elbow into his ribs, because his default view on humanity is in some ways a little kinder than typical due to that small but still significant amount of privilege.

At the same time, Wally is also someone who has probably run into (or watched his mentor run into) a lamp-post at high-speed at least once in his career.  He contains multitudes and among those multitudes is an endless capacity for some absolute Looney-Tunes nonsense, which the world is 100% better off for having.

I love him, your honour.

[lunatih]

i’m shy sorry for the anon

i like your art it’s very similar to mine. do you have any fan fiction recommendations for me??i’ve been getting into the breath of the wild fan fic’s recently but idk where to look i feel like you might know of some??? i also want to explore different fandoms so anything you’re reading right now? thank you, mwah x

Oh boy fanfic recommendations! 

You've asked and you shall receive!

I haven’t read a lot for botw but I can recommend these:

The Curious Minds by AllTheGoodUserNamesAreTaken The story is amazing and I’m pretty much obsessed with it. It’s a BL (Link / OC), slow burn. It’s still in progress but Holly (all hail Holly!) updates it pretty regularly.

Another BL (this one is finished) and also Link/OC is Something Greater by busket. It has quite a bit of humor and is much more lighthearted than The Curious Minds. The OC is also pretty interesting.

If you are a Link/Mipha fan then there is A Fish out of Water by JamesYorke. It’s an old story, still unfinished but it’s very good.

If you want some other fics from different fandoms then below is The List. Divided into fandoms so you can decide what you want. (some of them are from fanfiction.net ¯\_(ツ)_/¯)

Surprise surprise, most of it is BL xD

-- Naruto --

Doing the Work by MarbleGlove [ The mc is an adult female and not a ninja. Amazingly interesting for something that follows a housekeeper life]

The Medic-Nin's Guide to Casual Revolution by spideywhiteys [BL,  male medic OC, haven’t read all of it but the gay panic at the beginning is funny]

Making Lemonade by Meeceisme [male OC is not a part of team 7, no parings for now, wip, very much not welcomed daddy Kakashi]

-- For Trash of the Count's Family --

[very good story btw, got a manhwa adaptation last year]

After-Thought by Mango_to_sleep [if you know this fandom and want to feel pain this is a story for you, no pairings]

Silver Lining by RUNA_HADES [female OC, wip, humor, the romance is slowly starting]

-- I Was a Teenage Exocolonist --

If you know this game I can recommend this little story. It’s cute af.

Like a Fairy Tale by MaetheEllen 

-- SK8 the Infinity --

If you know this anime and like Langa and Reki then this fluff is just the fluffiest. It’s my comfort fic.

go and grab your sweater (the one that you like) by tiedbows [BL but nothing graphic, completed, seriously fluffy vibes]

-- Star Trek  --

Atlas by distractedKat [BL, Spock/Kirk, completed] It's an amazing story, that will have you yell at the end ‘Ah that’s why he does it!’. I think it keeps both Spock and Kirk very much in a character and I highly recommend it

--  Miraculous Ladybug --

Obsession by Kryalla Orchid [completed, 3 parts + an extra!, everyone’s favourite fake love-square and an interesting take on the main villain] 

-- Inuyasha --

All of these are Kagome / Sesshōmaru

Frivolous Sentimentalities by Tally Mark [humor, one-shot, a bit of Inuyasha bashing]

Beside You in Time by RosieB (oh so much not humor, slooow burn, dark and with a lot of incorporated history]

Unspoiled by forthright [cute humor, cute romance, also baby Sheshomaru]

-- Harry Potter --

The Chronic Hero Perspective by niklitera [BL] I’m in the middle of reading the first part and it.is.AH-mazing. The main character is an OC and a new professor in Harry’s third year. It touches a lot about growing as a person and about mental problems and it’s rather dark but very worth it

-- The Scum Villain's Self-Saving System --

Metagaming by esama [tagged as BL but nothing happened in the first two parts yet, humor, part 2 is already written and it’s just as good]

Qiong Ding's Littlest Shidi by Araceil [BL, between OC and Binghe. It’s tagged as Harry Potter crossover but I’ve seen nothing connecting it to HP and consider the mc as an OC instead of Harry’s reincarnation. It’s abandoned but the author posted a summary of the rest of the story at the end. I love it for the wonderful portrayal of YQQ and SQQ and the way it shows them actually explaining their past and making up. Also, it’s a FOUND FAMILY and I dig this shit]

If you know the Scum Villain then you also probably know Modao Zushi. Then I present you with:

-- Modao Zushi --

And Time Is But a Paper Moon by sami [BL, time travel, a lot of very diverse characters and load of family interaction, also very funny take on redoing the Water Abyss arc]

I’ve said that I have a lot of BLs , haven’t I? xD

Hope you will find something that you like here ^^

And send me your favourite fics - no matter the fandom. If you want to of course ;)

Anyway, thank you or the ask!

If you ever feel like sharing you art I’d love to see it ^^ No pressure though. Glad you like mine.

[star-my]

WIP Tag Game

rules: post 3 snippets from published work, and 3 from your wips

Thanks @theharrowing for the tag! I'll tag @minisugakoobies @colormepurplex2 @hisunshiine and whoever else wants to play! No pressure, and my apologies if you've been tagged already.

I don't have 3 works published yet in this fandom, so one will have to do:) y'all do, however, get never-before-seen snippets of unpub works!

Published- We are Forever Bulletproof: Oracle

CHAMESH 1ST, 2011

BREAKING NEWS: BANGTAN EMPIRE ATTACKED BY TOOPEEHM KINGDOM

CHAMESH 2ND,  2011

BREAKING NEWS: BANGTAN AT WAR WITH TOOPEEHM

“It’s for your safety, honey.”

“I know, but I want to stay here with you. It’s my place!”

“Jeongguk, your place is to stay safe, so we don’t have to worry for your safety and well-being and we can focus on the war.” His mother hugged him tightly. “Your hyungs will take good care of you. Be good, and don’t worry about us, okay? We’ll be fine. We love you.”

“I love you.” He hugged her back tightly. “Don’t worry about me; I’ll be good.”

Jeongguk arrived at Bomnal Palace in the Kim Realms and was greeted by Queen Mishil. She led him to the sitting room where her sons were hanging out with their friends, the Empire’s other princes.

Six pairs of eyes met his large ones as he took in the room and its occupants.

“Hi, Jeongguk, right?” A tall, handsome young man came over to meet him warmly. “I’m Seokjin, but you can call me Jin like the others do.”

Jeongguk nodded. 

“Okay.”

“We haven’t seen you much;  it’s usually Junghyun with the Emperor and Empress,” said a boy, smiling widely at him and waving. “But Junghyun hyung talks about you a lot.”

“He’s told me about all of you too,” said Jeongguk, smiling shyly.

“I’ll let you boys take care of Jeongguk then, while I make arrangements for you all,” said the queen, and left with a reassuring pat on his shoulder.

Arbah 34th, 2013

TOOPEEHM’S WAR WITH BANGTAN EMPIRE DRAGS ON THROUGH SECOND YEAR

Shesh 7th, 2013

BREAKING NEWS: THE MAD MAJE RETURNS ON TOOPEEHM’S SIDE IN EHM-TAN’S WAR

“I’m back!”

“How’d school go?” Jin appeared from the direction of the kitchen, wiping his hands on his apron. 

“It was fine,” Jungkook shrugged. “Lots of homework, even for the first day.”

“Let us know if you need help,” called Yoongi from the office/study area.

“Thanks, hyung!” he called back, following Jin to the snack he knew the oldest had prepared for him.

Hoseok and Jimin were talking quietly by the island. “With the added help from the Mad Maje’s forces, who knows how much longer this will drag on for. The first Maje War was five years long, and it’s already been two years-”

“DO YOU WANT TO TRY MY NEW CRACKERS RECIPE OR THE BROWNIES, JUNGKOOKIE?” asked Jin, loudly announcing their presence and shutting up the other two.

“Both, obviously,” grinned Jungkook. 

They weren’t subtle, but they loved him and had readily adopted him as their little brother, doing their best to shield him from the news of the war and the unease it brought and raise him to be a good prince, and more importantly, a good person, like his parents wanted.

He had only been able to see them and Junghyun a couple times since he was sent away; all the princes of the Empire had moved to the highest-protected city in the Empire, the Jeon Kingdom’s capital, Bangtandosi, shortened by its natives to ‘Bangtan’ or ‘Tan’.

They lived in a large stone house in the old district, close to Bangtan University where the older princes attended, and a five-minute walk from Jungkook’s high school.

Visits with any of their family members were few and far between, with the war taking up most of the royals’ time and attention, and the need to keep the heirs to the Empire’s location secret.

They seven of them had consequently created a bond closer than just brothers as they adjusted to life as civilians in the middle of wartime. They would do anything for each other, no questions asked.

{You can find the whole fic here on tumblr or on ao3}

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Unpublished- currently my only WiP is We are Forever Bulletproof: Truths

(shocking, i know, but i'm writing for the BTS fandom and hiatused my other fandom because i was overwhelmed with its WiPs. i'm trying to keep the pressure lowkey for my BTS fics. Feel free to request more, though!:D)

The air had a cool bite to it, signalling the start of the autumnal season. A gust of wind blew a falling yellow leaf into Jungkook’s face as he passed under the tree-lined avenue leading to Bangtan University. 

He brushed it away, turning to inhale the aroma of coffee and freshly baked goods carried by the breeze. Ah, good old 00:00 cafe. Located just outside campus grounds, it was a popular spot for students to crash and study, or go on a date right after class, or to work in before classes started. Jungkook had written more than one paper there as he had access to immediate coffee refills.

Jin or one of his other hyungs would have been more than happy to run an in-home coffee service for him during his previous three years of secondary schooling, but he enjoyed people-watching and the academic vibes he got from studying at a coffee shop.

Jungkook stepped in and inhaled the more concentrated scent of fresh-brewed coffee, likely a fresh shipment imported from the Jung Archipelagos.

The line at the counter was surprisingly short (though maybe that was because this was only the first day of classes and students didn’t need as much caffeine to function) and he quickly ordered his usual caramel frappuccino.

The worker behind the counter nudged the shoulder of his coworker and gave her the order details while he attended to the customers at the register.

Jungkook leaned against the counter by the pick-up area and watched students crossing from the busy streets of downtown Bangtan to the lush grounds of Bangtan University’s campus. A fun little game he liked to play was deciding what year a student was in and what they were majoring in. He was pretty sure he’d just identified a fellow fourth-year PolSci major when his name was called.

“Jungkook?”

He turned to collect his drink and heard bells ringing. Little specks of glitter floated around Her head, a small smile on Her lips and Her light eyes sparkling as She met his awestruck gaze.

I love you.

The lights around Her head disappeared and the bells abruptly stopped ringing as She pushed his cup into his hand and wrapped his fingers around the curved sides, turning to take the newcomer’s order while Her coworker manned the coffee.

“Have a good day!” She tossed over her shoulder, smiling at the newcomer.

Jungkook sipped his drink, frowning as he exited the coffee shop, the bells ringing goodbye in a mocking way, a far cry from their melodic tinkling when he met Her.

That was a good frappuccino; he’d have to go back. For the coffee, too.

{is this all i've written for WaFBV:T? you don't have access to my docs and can't prove anything>:D}

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Fic I've written but haven't published/typed up- Godmother: Vixen

Ara, Age 15 (10 years ago)

"Jungkook, you know how you're going to be my official bodyguard in a couple years, when you turn 18?"

Jungkook's head was in Ara's lap, her fingers combing through the soft black strands. "...yeah?"

"So then I won't have Lee watching us all the time?"

"Yes? Where are you going with this?" "Patience, Kookie." Ara booped his nose, making him crinkle it at her.

"Well, then I'll be able to sneak out with you more. I won't have to make you sneak out to get my stuff anymore, and I can really begin my- our plans."

"But I don't mind it! I like it!" Jungkook protested. "It keeps you safe and under Lee's watch, where you're supposed to be."

"Yeah, but it's so boring. I don't get to practice my black belts on anything...you can join the underground rings but I can't, yet. Ugh, I wish you were older so I could polish the plan better."

"Slow and steady wins the race, Ara. You've got two years to finish learning all that stuff you want to know, as if Namjoon-hyung and Jin-hyung won't help."

"Yeah, but they'll be busy for appa, and it's too close; he'd be suspicious and they'll be in trouble even if I'm not. It's good for me to know hacking and strategy, anyways. You've been with me for my physical training, but I can't lead a gang just because I have five black belts in martial arts and a gun."

"Okay, you have a point, Bug."

"When do I not?" she smirked saucily at him.

~~~

(present day)

Jimin complied, following her to a small room that reminded him of a cabin. She pointed to the twin bed and shut the door behind her. Jimin didn't feel like a captive since there was a window large enough for him to crawl through, and there didn't appear to be any bars or lasers to stop him from doing so if he wished. But he didn't wish to; he was here for a reason, afterall.

Footsteps echoed in the hallway as someone came jogging up to Vixen. The tread was heavy, likely male, and the visitor greeted her in a male's voice.

"Hey Vix, I found out where he keeps the goods- why are you frown- ouch! VIX-mmph!"

That male voice sounded awfully familiar. Jimin frowned.

"Shh! I'm gagging you because he's next. Door!" hissed Vixen harshly. "If you'd checked outside before you snuck in, you'ld've seen his car!"

Jimin strained his ears as the whispers softened and moved down the hallway. However, he'd managed to drop a bug on Vixen's back as he followed her, so he pulled out his receiver and shamelessly eavesdropped.

"I came over the rooves tonight so I didn't see. I'm sorry, VIx, that was careless; I should've known better. I'll check 360 degrees next time, yakseokhae."

That was definitely JK.

"Good. Yeesh, oppa, you almost gave everything away! I had Han ready to rush you with his knife to slow you down!"

Oppa?! Why was Vixen so close to JK?

"Sorry, Vixen. But I found out where he keeps the goods, and I'm getting mine tomorrow, so I need to make sure the others won't be visible when it's done."

...the blacklight tattoos each member got when they were inducted into Bangtan? He'd thought JK was a reliable asset to Bangtan, so he'd invited him to get it. JK was obviously Vixen's spy in Bangtan, but why?...most of JK's time was spent on his bodyguarding duties with Ara.

Unless...Vixen was going to take out Ara to hit Bangtan and Grey? But both of them were allied with her, that didn't make sense. And he knew JK would never hurt or let anyone or anything hurt Ara.

Clearly more investigation was required.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

{I forgot how much I liked this fic! It definitely needs some polishing, but maybe I can get it done for some event or a friend's birthday!}

Masterlist is here

[butmakeitgayblog]

Hey babe, first, wanted to let you know that it hasn’t stopped raining in my town you know since when? since you posted that midwestern Clexa fight, coincidence? Don’t think so 🤨

Second, been bombarded with that ops show too and I agree 100% with you, both in the copaganda aspect (they lost me at the mention of marine’s and middle east terrorism)and the thing about this new ships. I want to stop a moment in the answer you gave me a time ago about this wn comeback, so, even if they write them well (at first), never forget who’s behind these shows and suddenly this thing we haven’t heard about gets popular cos it has a wlw couple with amazing chemistry, they get increase in viewers so they explote it to promote their next season and then what? Sound familiar? We just can’t trust them anymore.

Third, I super totally agree with you on the Clexa lightning in a bottle. As one of the newer Clexa fans (next week will make one year since I saw the second season and told my sister “I’m sensing a little bit of the gay vibe in here, wonder who of the two will die”) I’ve seen already most of the shows one sees named in the conversation about wlw couples and let me tell you, only this one got me hooked both from the beggining and way long after its ending (hell it got me into tumblr and twitter, things I’ve never done before and I even bought a book about it “El legado de Lexa” to know more about this shitstorm her death caused). Whatever IT is, they have IT. I honestly prefer reading fics about them than get invested in a new show.

Fourth, do you really wouldn’t recommend Clexa to new fans? I mean, yeah we got hurt but they’re more than their sad story, they’re this whole community and I think that’s a beautiful thing. Personally? I wouldn’t recommend the loo but I’d tell them about Clexa warning them beforehand so they can decide for themselves? There’s this dialogue on a media fic comparing someone with a really good book that you can’t put down or let go, that even if it made you suffer and you know the ending, the feeling you got reading its unique and you just wanna keep back to it, and that’s this thing to me.

Finally, I love how you apologize beforehand if your opinion that you posted in your personal blog offends the people who asked for it and came to said blog willingly and with the intention to read it. You humble polite kiddo *pats you in the head affectionately*

Sorry about the long rant 😬, en resumen, this new show? not sure I’ll watch it, Clexa is the “el que no conoce a dios a cualquier santo le reza” of ships, I’m leaning more into the recommed Clexa side of things, we love you and your opinions.

And we need the reconciliation so the sun can come up in my town again.

There's a lot here 😅 not complaining tho!

Ok so the first real thing I gotta answer is about would I rec theloo and Clexa to people who haven't heard of it. My honest answer is would I rec Clexa fic? Yes. The show? Maybe, but it'd come with A Lot of caveats 🥴. Because the thing is, and I may be alone in this thinking idk, but I'm not really sure if someone can appreciate the entirely of Clexa and Lexa, and Clarke in particular, as characters or why their dynamics and eventual love story were so amazing if they didn't watch the show. While the Clexa movie is fantastic at showing their chemistry, there's things that happen within the show that effect them and speak on who they are as individual characters that aren't ever really included in the supercuts because they aren't together in them. Which I agree with! The thing is already 3+hrs long lol. But it does matter for context and it does hold weight in their story, both together and individually, so I would have to say to really get them you have to watch the show at least up until 307. I know there's people who write fic who haven't watched the show at all and I just... no shade! But I can usually tell. Cuz it shows.

But in that same breath the show got so fucking stupid and nonsensical I, in good conscience, have a very difficult time telling people that they should watch that hunk'a shit 😒 Season 2 was its best, let's just be honest, and season 3 was JRot's bullshit Frankenstein creation that he used as a way to shoehorn in this fucking AI plot from a movie or show (I can't remember which) that didn't get picked up but he was just convinced it was brilliant. He wanted to be GoT meets Star Trek or some shit so badly I just know he was pissing himself watching dailies. So overall it's such a double edged sword because yes I want more people to love Clexa, but at the same time the show overall is so gd bad I don't wanna put them through it.

About the Ops show, someone said it is copaganda which I expected, and not even actually enemies to lovers?? Which baffled me but apparently one of them is undercover and using the other one to get to their father or something? That's not enemies to lovers 🤨 that's manipulation. Which ok fine I'm down with that in fiction but if one party is unaware of your nefarious ways and is just interested in you then that's not... that's not EtL. That's just I was trying to trick you and caught feelings/I had feelings and then found out you were a liar. False. Advertising. 😤

Lastly, I'm a midwesterner we apologize for everything 🥺👉👈 knocked into a chair with my knee today ans accidentally apologized to it before realizing myself 😔. But really it's mainly because I know how easy it is online for people to think everything is a personal attack on them or their tastes when it's not, so I find it's just safer and more pleasant to remind people that I am just a person stating their own personal opinion, and it's really not ever anything to get upset about 😅

[neowinestainedress]

Hello! Inferno girly here.

I was actually talking about a whole new fic. The idea of ghost face woke something in me to be honest cuz honestly I haven't seen many of them and they're something rare for me beside the usual omega verse fics (no offence to those, I love them but I feel like they're so many and a little bit overrated)

I thought about the ghost face to be only a costume and for the break-in plot to be only their way to hide their identity (I have a problem when men have something on their face while doing it(especially those nerdy glasses🛐) ) and for the party party yea plot it can be a costume but also to be their personality like in that one inferno fic where they are different creatures at a party (sorry I forgot the name😔)

You can take your sweet time, don't have to rush this ill be glad to read it even at the middle of next summer if it's written by you really

Thank you for the Ao3 thingy, I'll definitely work on it since tumblr is getting a little bit boring (no offence tumblr, I still love you). I'm in this fan fiction world since wattpad was popular, I even paid for wattpad plus, but Ao3 was my least favourite tbh but I'll try to do something on that side.

I really appreciate you and your works. Love you sm🩷 Fighting!!🙋🏻‍♀️

love that you’re the inferno girly now shdjjd

okay so i got it right, i just wanted to make sure. i think they’re popular in other fandoms but not in the nct one which was so weird for me because you can come up with so many combination of them it’s such a fun concept for this season but i haven’t seen any, at least on tumblr 😭 (i have mixed feelings with omegaverse that’s why this one i have in mind would be the first one i do)

my brain is already imagining thing. like imagine if she decided to stay at home after they repeatedly asked her to go to a party (an halloween one if i can do it in time or just a party) and so they decide to break-in with the costume on. since it’s two of them i can’t make it something discussed before but they do it because they saw something on her internet search or she confessed a kink while drunk and so they decide to bring the fantasy to live and there would be so much teasing once she finds out who’s under the mask. (don’t worry here it’s a safe space i have a problem with it too (and i agree with the glasses too)) okay but now that you talked about glasses idk why i thought about jisung 😭 maybe he could be the shy friend who would never do something like this but jeno (or someone else idk) convinces him that it’s fine and the mc will be fine with it??? (i’m always afraid nerdy, shy jisung is an overdone trope but it seems like a fun idea here). yeah surely not killers but maybe they’re both a little possessive over the mc in their own ways. (don’t worry, i got it anyway, it’s sweet deception)

thank you, let’s hope i can come up with something good!

same, i started on wattpad (tbh i was also on two other sites, one is italian and i don’t remember the name of the other) but tumblr has been my favorite for the last few years before it started sabotaging me*, posting a fic it’s like a battle and i’m tired to do it everytime. ao3 doesn’t have an algorithm but for me it’s paradise because if you search for something you WILL find it. the only tags you can use here are the basic smut, fluff and angst one. i wanted to make a post to try to explain how ao3 works but then i never did. anyway here’s an useful link with the main answer about how it works and how to navigate the site, maybe it will help!

thank you for the support! love you 🩷

* i don’t think tumblr has problems with ME but post don’t show up in the tags, the whole label thing, links break the post most of the time, i just generally feel like it’s dying and i know i’m not the only one who thinks that, especially artists and writers are running away from here