#I have been rotating this fic in my head for a fucking year and now it's finally here in the open

[thewritingowl]

When Dick took over Tim's infiltration of the Ghost Investigation Ward, he thought he'd be coming out of it with a few files and maybe some information.

Instead, he left with a kid.

Now Dick finds himself trying to learn how to be a father all while helping his new son, Danny, overcome the trauma that he had been dealt by the GIW. It's a roller coaster of a ride, but thankfully Dick isn't alone. Danny now has a bunch of excitable aunts, uncles, grandparents, and even a great-grandfather all ready to dote on him. Dick is determined to give Danny the best life he can manage as he works to keep Danny safe from the myriad of forces that want to harm him.

[jen-with-a-pen]

(In Your) Arms Tonight - 1/2

summary: Hypothesis: If he (Wade) turns off the AC, then they (Wade and Logan) will have no choice but to strip naked and end up sticky and gross and hard together!

That's what he was taught in middle school, right?

pairing: Logan Howlett x Wade Wilson / Worst Wolverine x Deadpool

word count: 1.3k

warnings: MDNI 18+, Wade's POV-ish, blood mention, knife mention, beer mention, Wade's fuckin horny and thirsty y'all, pining, cursing, claws, Wade is looking ✨respectively✨, crude humor and language, slight Deadpool and Wolverine spoilers, no smut (yet, sorry)

a/n: AUGH DONT LOOK AT ME (actually please do I cannot hold this in any longer.) currently part one of two parts. posting the first one now as I am currently traveling for work and won't be back until beginning of September and then part two will be out when i either A. Get home or B. Finish it and format it in between running around like a chicken with my head cut off. Please be patient with me! I will not tolerate "whEreS PaRt Two?¿??" when I literally just told you. Hope y'all enjoy one of the many products of my brain rot. More to come in due time ✨

Not beta'd. Written on my phone and edited via gdocs. Post formatted on mobile because I don't wanna use my work computer lmao

Please let me know if there are any spelling or grammar mistakes!

If I've missed any tags, PLEASE let me know!

gif by @tomshiddles | dividers by @saradika-graphics | warning banner by me ❤️

My AO3 | My Masterlist

Read this fic HERE on AO3

❤️ Reblogs and comments are appreciated, as always ❤️

PART ONE | PART TWO

The abs are great. More than great, actually. In fact, they're all Wade thinks, dreams, and fantasizes about. All day, everyday, non-fucking-stop. The moment replays over and over in his fucked up noodle brain like a scratched record. He knows muscle memory is a thing, but what about salivatory memory?

Christ. He's gotta get a grip instead of getting hard.

But what about when Logan isn't flexing hard enough to rip his goddamn suit off?

Wade notices Logan becoming more relaxed around the apartment as the days pass. Adjusting to his new life, coming out of the bedroom earlier than he has to on days when he gets a turn to sleep on a real bed. It's Sofa City most of the time– which he really doesn't mind, he almost prefers it most of the time (since it's in clear sight of the front door) but Wade more often than not likes to insist they share his 'much-too-big-for-lil-old-me' twin XL mattress that's seen more stains than sex in the last year alone.

Logan's compromise is he'll take the bed and Wade the couch half the time. Alone. They're still working on the negotiations of said compromise, but the jury– Blind Al– is still out on recess.

Once he's more settled in, Logan learns that it's okay to kick off his boots and put his feet up. It's not often, but enough that Wade silently wishes he'd rest those big meaty calves on his lap instead. He's been needing a new weighted blanket and Adamantium-coated tibias and hairy legs are so in right now.

Logan doesn't know it, but Wade secretly plays 'ohmygodhetotallylookedatme' whenever he so much as catches a glimpse of Wade oggling at him in his peripherals. Wade can't help it when Broody and the Beast's ribbed white muscle shirt pulls taut against those deliciously plump pecs that he silently prays it'll burst off again. Or he'll rip it off. Or Logan will rip it off. For him.

A boy can dream.

It's especially hard to win at 'OMGHTLAM' when Logan accessorizes– AKA throwing on whatever flannel is in rotation out of the several he finds at the thrift store a few blocks over. Wade feels his throat tighten like his jeans do when Logan wears the forest green one. Really brings out his eyes.

And smile. And lips. And–

It's still summer, so on the hotter days, when sweat glistens on his brow and Wade desperately wishes to be the back of Logan's hand, the tank top comes off. All Logan's sweaty, gloriously muscular body has on is a wonderfully worn-in pair of jeans with the hem of black briefs poking out behind the denim waist.

Do they have AC? Yes. Because Wade would have to plan a funeral for Al if they didn't.

But when she's out and about, he likes to turn it off and let the New York heat wave run its course. Sure, it leaves him sticky and gross, but he'd rather be sticky and gross and hard when he can help it.

Luckily, Blind Al is gone for the whole weekend. Some girls trip or a drug mule job. Same difference.

Hypothesis: If he (Wade) turns off the AC, then they (Wade and Logan) will have no choice but to strip naked and end up sticky and gross and hard together!

That's what he was taught in middle school, right?

With the push of a button and a sprinkle of patience, Logan is splayed out on the couch in a matter of hours with a lukewarm beer in hand while fighting his eyelids from dozing off to some random war documentary. Sweat beads on his temples and there's a slight sheen to his skin from his biceps to the lower V pointing down to between his thighs. He chuckles every so often, mumbling things to himself between swigs of beer and shaking his head when the narrator gets something 'wrong.'

Wade busies himself in the kitchen but his eyes are permanently glued to his roommate. He doesn’t miss the way Logan's stomach rises and falls gently, the rock-hard six pack softening into rolling hills of muscle with a layer of dark hair covering as much surface area as immortal-like hormones will allow. Grown out beard, chops, and messy hair really throw the whole look together; very 2000s, if you ask Wade. His pecs look just as soft as a pair of titties, if not softer, and Wade knows it. He'd do anything to lay his perfect little head on Logan's chest. Maybe lick it too, if he's a good boy. 

Logan perks up suddenly from the couch.

Oh God did he say that out loud?

"Wade?"

Wade doesn't hear him. Can't hear him. Half-refuses to hear him, honestly. Daydreaming takes up a whole lotta brain power and this show isn't running itself. Economy, budget cuts, unprecedented times. You know the shtick. 

"Wade."

Nothing but a bead of drool comes out of Wade's mouth. 

Suddenly, there's a crash right behind Wade's head and now he's awake. He whips around to the ale-spattered wall behind him and back to Logan, who's now standing with claws drawn and chest heaving.

Wade swears he's blushing. 

Eyes wide and brow standing up straight like his good little soldier, Wade looks down at the counter before him to find a bloodbath of a scene: one hand's on a knife while the other spews blood all over the yellowed counter tops; there's remnants of a carrot that was finished five minutes ago, followed directly by remnants of fingers cut down to the last fucking knuckle and slice marks beginning down the back of his hand.

Wade holds up his spurting stump, gashed artery doing a spot-on impression of Ol' fucking Faithful.

"Oh. Huh. Thought I smelled something," he says, staring at his now-tingling hand. Baby fingers for the rest of the night were so worth the staring contest with Logan's beautiful body.

"Fuckin' idiot," Logan mutters, sheathing his claws and striding over to the hall closet to grab a towel. Wade's already stopped bleeding, but just because they might be immune to bloodborne pathogens doesn't mean Al is.

"Gah– get back, damn mutt." Logan shoos Dogpool out of the kitchen to prevent her from lapping up her papa's bodily fluids. He throws the towel in Wade's face and goes to grab the bleach out of the cupboard under the sink. Logan learned very quickly where to find it the first time this happened a month or two ago.

"Sorry baby, Mommy's got a boo-boo and Daddy's just trying to help," Wade coos at Dogpool. "You're too good to me, peanut. Someone oughta wife ya up before I do."

Logan responds with a scowl as he tosses the carrots out and tries to keep the counter from staining. "Why th'fuck did you do that?"

"It was time for a new hand. Old one was so last season."

Wade mops up the blood from his arm and wraps the towel onto his head like he's just gotten out of the shower. Holding up his regenerating stump, he poses like a cover model for Vogue.

"Whatcha think, peanut?" He strikes another pose. "Is this doing anything for ya, big boy?"

Logan grunts as he tosses a wad of paper towels into the trash can. He turns to leave the kitchen, eyes flicking to Wade. It's the quickest once over ever, but Wade sees it. Commits it to memory while he pulls a Flashdance in a chair from the kitchen table and follows Logan's denim-clad ass as it sways off to the bathroom. 

"'M gonna go shower. Don't wait up,” Logan calls before shutting the door and locking it. 

Sighing, Wade looks down at his crotch, pants tent pitched higher and tighter than a first-timer on Everest.

Good thing he's ambidextrous.

[artisticestheticreads]

Summertime Magic XIV

A/N: Heyyy, how you doin’? Okay okay. I know it’s BEEN years BUT I’ve been a hell of busy for so long. I got into streaming, creating content on YouTube, traveling, and enjoying life. I noticed that my SummerTime Magic fan fic has been in rotation lately… so why not bring it back for the last two chapters for the one time? I had been rereading every chapter, flaw and all, and realized my writing has gotten way over the years and I won’t lie, I missed y’all so much. So let's finish this story off strong.

To Catch Up, Press Here.

Warning: Some fluffy Daka, some lovey-dovey stuff... and maybe, some stuff at the end that would y'all heart and soul.

Word Count: 7598

There was a couple leaning in a silver Nissan Altima, wearing all black hiding in the night. “So, what you got planned to fuck them over,” said the man who was still upset N’Jadaka has his ex now. He looked towards the woman and said “just know, you inspired this plan… a lot.”  The woman was about to do something to ruin what a good thing the couple had, but she didn’t care and was willing to do anything to let Y/N know she made a huge mistake.

Y/N was in her office at her brand new shop before the day started. Her hair was in goddess cornrows, charms and golden thread braided into each one. She wore the jewelry her man gifted her from their anniversary with a white leotard bodysuit, long, jaded green skirt with a slit on the side and some nude heels that paired perfectly with her golden bracelets. One by one, her crew started to make their way in and began to prepare for the day; the day started at 9 am and ended at 7 pm.

“Okay, everyone. We have quite a few appointments today including hair, nails, and waxes. We have all eight people here so we should be good along with having our entire receptionist team as well. Our goal is to make at least $10K which is possible with all the high school events and weddings happening around this time, yeah?”  Her team agreed before she checked the time on her phone; it was about to hit 8:50 and she could spot the repeating customers driving and waiting in the parking lot in front of the shop, coffees and breakfast in hand. Y/N nodded as the team dispersed and began to set the music and TV on. 

The day began and she knew it was going to be a long one ahead of her. She tied her apron around her tightly and began with her first customer, dye touch up and retwist. She had her neo soul mix on Spotify play throughout the shop as she worked on her male client, laughing with his mom who wanted her boy to not embarrass the family name nor his girlfriend for prom happening the next day. Y/N decided to throw in a free line up to make sure he was extra fresh; the mom tipped her a hundred and fifty dollars. 

Her next client was a loud mouth teen whose prom was the day of but she claimed to be “tender headed”. The young lady wanted everything done to her head to the point it looked like a tornado swept up Kansas so Y/]N convinced her to do a simple yet curly middle part bust down with her red 28 inches of weave; the young lady tipped her twenty bucks but her father slid her and extra two hundred for the time and trouble. 

Before she knew it, it was already one pm so she started to head to her parents’ home to visit and eat lunch with her mom since she was working from home that day. Y/N pulled up in front of the house and stepped out fixing her skirt. She began to walk up the steps when she heard her father yell out. “I SMELL SHEA BUTTER AND COCONUT OIL!!!! MY FIRST BORN IS HERE!!!!”; Y/N laughed before walking in and her father made his way to her on a cane, still healing his knees. “Hey, pa. How you healing?”

“Shit, I feel brand new now but ya raggedy ass momma made me get a cane just in case.”  “I heard that, muthafucka. Y/N/N, I’m in the kitchen, baby.”

Tommy looked at his eldest child and whispered “ya ass got me in trouble.” Y/N rolled her eyes as she made her way to the kitchen with a grin. Tasha was making lunch for the family which was a huge Caesar Salad inspired pasta with the salad on the side and toasted rolls. “Hey, momma.” “Hey, momma’s baby. How is the shop doin’?” “Good, money looking real nice with the prom season and graduation around the corner. Been booked and oh so busy”, explained Y/N after she kissed her mother’s sweet cheek. Her mom was in the middle of chopping the crispy chicken in bite size pieces and placing them into the pasta. “Okayyyy, I see you, big money. I am so proud of you, baby. Like you started from doing hair in your home to having your own shop. You didn’t let anything or anyone stop you. Not only that but you have that handsome young man, N’Jadaka too. How are y’all speaking of", asked her mother, smiling and knowing what surprise awaited her. Y/N smiled as she said “we are great, actually. He has been busy since the center opened and all but he is just… great.” Tasha turned to see her daughter looking at the ground in deep thought and walked over to her. “Baby, what’s wrong?”

“Nothing, momma.” “Y/N/N, baby, something is wrong. I know you better than anyone else in the entire world. Are you sure you and N’Jadaka are okay?” Tasha turned the pasta pot on a low boil and grabbed her daughter’s arm, interlocking with hers, as they walked to the front porch; they sat side by side on the bench. “Alright, tell me the truth. What’s wrong, best friend?” Y/N looked at her mother as she waited, looking into her eyes back; she sighed and began. “I just, I feel like something bad is going to happen. The shop is a success, my relationship is amazing, pa is healing, CJ is heading to college soon. I just-I just feel like something bad is going to happen soon.” “Now, why would you put that in the universe, baby? You have been through so much before N’Jadaka came into your life. Yes, you were happy before but since you met him, I can tell that y’all make each other better. He just brings out even more confidence than before. He makes you happy. When you were with Rodney…”. Tasha paused and took a deep breath as she remembered all the pain her baby girl dealt with before finishing. “Baby, when you were with Rodney, he absolutely drained you. You didn’t eat. You didn't sleep. You were attached to him in the worst way and it took for him to cheat on you and put his hands on you to see that you needed to leave him. But with N’Jadaka, you are your best self and , baby, we love that for you.” Y/N looked away, thinking of her mother’s words, slowly smiling to herself. “He is great, huh?”

“Sure is. And I can tell that y’all have a bright future ahead. Maybe, one day, if God is willing, y’all will have your own family. Maybe, a little girl and a little boy will be running around this yard one day. A nice intimate wedding, a nice big house like you always wanted. And you know, I can see you and that young man, old and gray talking to your grandbabies about how y’all met and fell in love.” Y/N looked over at her mother who smiled at her and she began to mirror it with her nose scrunched up like hers. Y/N giggled with her momma as she wrapped her arm around her and said “thank you, mommy.” “You are very welcome, baby. Now, let’s get back in befo-.” “TASHA, WHERE MY DAMN FOOD AT WOMAN?!”, yelled out Tommy making Y/N chuckled as her mother rolled her eyes once they stood up and entered the home again. ~

N’Jadaka was standing in front of the history classroom of the center wearing his golden frame glasses, navy blue slacks, white collared button down with the sleeves rolled up and black dress shoes. His locs were freshly twisted and braided backwards to stay out of his face. “Alright, kings and queens. Today, we will be discussing the truth about the African American bloodline. Now, if y’all can turn to chapter 4, page 36, you will see that today’s topic will be the truth of black royalty.” He leaned his buttocks against the desk and turned to the page he had bookmarked with a red tab. “Alright, in the 18th and 19th centuries, Europe had several black and mixed race people as royalty. The first one who we will be discussing is Queen Charlotte. Now, with features reputed to be conspicuously African by her contemporaries, it is no wonder that the Black community, both in the U.S. and-.” “Mr. Stevens, my daddy said there ain’t no such thing as black royalty”, said a ten year old child in the class, making the others look at her then at him, anticipating the answer. Erik looked at the young lady and took a deep breath before asking “Miss Zasha, what do I do for a living?”

“You’re our teacher.”

“And what does your ‘daddy’ do for a living, Miss Zasha?”

“He a mechanic.”

Erik slowly blinked at her answer with a tight mouth that made some of the children laugh. His eyes stayed on the young lady until he went back to the book, continuing to read. Thirty minutes had passed and the bell rang for the lunch period to begin; his class was dismissed and he began to prepare for lunch himself until he heard a knock on the door. Erik turned to see Sheila at the door, smiling big at her brother. “What’s good, sis”, he said, placing his hands in his pockets and leaning as he watched her enter; she wore a rainbow bodycon dress, cropped jean jacket with black and white vans. “Oh, everything is swell.” Erik looked at his long time friend with a suspicious brow and said “what are you finna ask me, Sheila?” “Nothing, jackass. Why are you asking me that?” “Lemme guess. Bro opened his big mouth about the surprise trip I have planned.” Sheila clutched her imaginary pearls as she gasped loudly, making Erik chuckle. “A surprise trip?! Why, he never told me anything about that! Oh, Jerald. Why have you forsaken me”, said the dramatic woman as she held her heart and placed her other hand on her forehead, palm facing the sky. “Quit the act, Sheila. Y’all make me sick.” Sheila rolled her eyes playfully before sitting at the desk in front of him. “So, you are finally popping the question, huh? When is the trip?”

“Shit, next week but they I been working I'm chilling before the trip. I got a whole thing planned for Friday night though. Gonna take her to the beach since it’s getting warm as fuck again. I got some folks to set up a whole outdoor dining thing over there and I ordered food from our first anniversary spot. I got her favorite bakery spot to make her cake, that place called Sweets or something like that by the shop. Then I show her a fake text that shows our ‘plane tickets’. I had to convince the Dora Milaje to dress like a whole fuckin’ aircraft crew and B’s boys, too. Then, BOOM the big muthafuckin’ reveal. She will come back as my fiance and maybe even the mother of my children.” N’Jadaka sat so proud of his plans that he didn’t even notice his sister staring at him with glee. “You good, sis”, he asked and she sat with her chin resting on her hands. 

“You are so happy. And I love y’all so much.”

“C’mon, Sheila.” She stood from her seat as she said “I’m serious, JD. After the last bitch, you said you would swear off women and rather die a virgin. You gave up the dream of marriage, and babies, and having the family you always wanted. Like your parents and uncle wanted for you. Then, you got sprung on Y/N thick ass.” N’Jadaka looked at her, chuckling away as she took a place next to him. Sheila continued as she looked at him. “JD, I am so happy that you found your sunshine on your cloudy days.” N’Jadaka looked over at his female friend, wrapped his arm softly around her neck and kissed her head. “Thanks, sis. I appreciate y’all. But you know, Y/N might be on to me.”“Eh, women know when something is up. But no worries. Her family and your people ain’t spilling shit.”

They gave one another dap before heading out to get some food finally and talk more about the plans. ~

The day was finally over and Y/N was about to close out shop. Her team left one by one after cleaning their stations and helping tidy up the place before they all left. Y/N locked the doors behind each one before heading to the back, about to finish the lock up process. She placed all the money from the register in the money counter and started recording the amount down to the cent, $11,845.28 was made for the night. She placed the amount in the money bags and into her lock box N’Jadaka gifted her since her old one was worn and torn. Y/N placed it into her purse before grabbing her keys along with her phone before turning off her office light. She began to make her way to the door when he noticed him standing there. He wore all black to hide in the dark but she could see his eyes piercing through the glass. Rodney stood there watching her move even in the dimly lit room. Her first thought was how she would get to her even though he leaned against the hood. Y/N thought of only one thing she could do. She headed back to her office, using the switch to turn the light on after dialing the number and talking to the person on the other side. Y/N locked the door behind her and sat at her desk waiting for her rescue to arrive. 

It felt as if she waited hours as her eyes got slightly heavy when all of a sudden, she heard footsteps inching closer to her office door. She stood from her desk slowly, eyes on the door and worry on her face as she waited quietly. Before she knew it, she heard knocking on the door which came off loud with her drowsiness kicking in. Her heart started to beat through her breasts just thinking about that man attacking her again like in the past; her soul was terrified to say the least. “Baby girl, it’s me, Daka. Open the door, baby”; she heard the voice she waited for, calming her rattled nerves. N’Jadaka had come to the rescue… or so she thought. When she sprinted to open the door, Rodney stood there with a devilish grin. He reached for her neck, pressing down hard and that’s when it happened…

Y/N had sprung up swinging her arms but felt something pull her in. She looked up to meet eyes with her man who looked down at her while rubbing her back. “You okay, princess”, his voice calmed her as he placed kisses on her head. “Hey, baby.” “Hey, baby. You good in here? I tried callin’ to let you know I was in the lot but I guess you was knocked out.” Y/N placed her head into his chest and began to heavily sniff his cologne which made him erupt with laughter. “Been a long day huh?” She mumbled against his chest but he lifted her head to look at him. “I didn’t catch any of that, princess. What you say?” “Yes, the longest.” “Awe, well. I have dinner ready at home waiting for us. Then I will give you a nice bubble bath and a deep tissue massage-” “And dick”, Y/N said in a sweet, innocent yet excited tone, looking up at him with big eyes. Erik chuckled and said “yes, dick too. Now, c’mon, baby.” They made their way to the parking lot where they hopped in separate cars, him following behind.

~ The next morning at exactly 6 am, N’Jadaka sat on the island looking at his children's stats from his history class. He had on his gold rimmed glasses, a basic white tee and jeans as he held his coffee with one hand. Y/N was making breakfast for the pair wearing his tee and nothing underneath. N’Jadaka watched her move around the kitchen, smiling in between glances of the children’s work and his future wife. He can only imagine their wedding day, her in a cream toned gown with gold accents created by the best seamstress in all of Wakanda; her beauty would be a wonderful addition to the view around them. He wondered how their kids would look, how they would act. Yes, Y/N may not be able to have children but with the best healthcare in his home country, it would be 200% possible, studies show.

Y/N placed his plate of four egg whites, four slices of French toast, bacon and a bowl of brown sugar oatmeal as she kissed his forehead and refreshed his coffee. “I made our lunch for today. Just the dinner from last night so we can get rid of it easier. And, of course, I put some of the green tea and a jug of your alkaline water with your tumbler.” She grabbed her bowl of oatmeal and small plate of toast, bacon and eggs and indulged  before the busy day ahead. She was reading through the emails on her phone when she felt kisses on her free hand; she turned to look at N’Jadaka, fully immersed in showing her love. Y/N won’t lie but she was a bit suspicious of him being overly affectionate with her lately; she of course shrugged it off as she watched him. She leaned into his hand that held her wrist and shared her own kisses, making him smile and look at her, with so much love in their eyes.

“Why are you so lovey dovey this morning, mister”, Y/N asked but she only received kisses between the words he spoke. “Because” kiss. “I” kiss. “Have” kiss. “Someone” kiss. “Who” kiss. “Loves” kiss. “Me” kiss. His eyes met her and she can tell by the look on his face. “Daka, what are hidin’?” N’Jadaka looked into her face and made a deep sigh. “Nothing, baby girl. Why I gotta be hiding something, Y/N/N.” Y/N looked into his face trying to read it until she heard “baby, you can’t pull a me on me. I’m stone compared to your bubble.” He gently placed her hand down and continued to eat as she did the same, in comfortable silence and leaving her in her thoughts.

An hour passed when N’Jadaka was sitting on the couch looking at the plans for the following night wearing his chosen work attire; it would be one of the biggest nights in his life. He went through the list to check if everything was confirmed. Yellow, white and pink roses, check. Dinner ordered from The District,check. The reservation to close the whole beach just for the dinner, expensive but check. And everything ready for the proposal back home, a  HUGE check. He leaned back looking at the time on his phone, 7:25 AM. He thanked Bast that the traffic from the house to the center was nonexistent especially with how he drove. He dug in his pocket to retrieve the ring box that contained the engagement ring. N’Jadaka leaned over, elbows on knees and opened the box which lit up around the ring, showing every detail of the beautiful piece of jewelry that would change things forever. “She gonna love this shit.”

“Daka, have you seen my chain”; Daka heard his lady and could also feel how close she was near so he quickly placed the ring back into his pocket and closed his laptop. Y/N walked over to the couch where he sat in her sunny yellow flare bottom pants, white tank top, high top all white converse and hair in a low bun with her goddess braids; looked around and saw the necklace resting on the coffee table. She grabbed it and as she placed it on, she noticed her man’s body language. “Daka, what’s wrong?” “Hm? What you mean, baby?” Y/N looked over at her man even more whose legs were extra folded. and just shook her head to herself saying “nothing, Daka. You think you can still pick me up tonight after work? I don’t want to be caught by myself when that nigga pops up again.” N’Jadaka nodded, saying, “Of course, baby. I got you. Shit, I’ll bring my glock too just in case.” Y/N laughed as she grabbed her bag and he stood, placing a kiss to her lips before they headed out but he forgot one important thing.

It was around three pm at the shop as Y/N sat in her own chair, enjoying her break, hearing the chatter in her salon, making her smile. “All I’m saying is, I want a nigga with a curve. That muthafucka being thick means nothing. It’s that length and curve that matters, okaayyyyy!!!”; the woman all hollered and laughed through the shop. “Y/N doll, what about you? Does size matter?” All the girls laughed as Y/N was placed in the hot seat but little did they know, she could take the heat. “Psh, please. I got a man with all three. I’m good over here”; all the girls cheered, laughed and high five each other.

The bell of the shop door rang but before Y/N welcomed them in, Y/N noticed the man. It was Rodney who stood there, eyes trained on her face and thanked the women who did welcome him in. He wore a black V-neck, tan cargos, and gray New Balance 570s with his hair under a durag. “Hey there. Welcome in, I’m Stacie. Do you have an appointment” asked the receptionist at the front door. Rodney leaned in with a smile and replied. “Yes, ma’am. Under Tyler Calvin.”

“Tyler. Tyler?” Her fingers typing in each letter until his name popped up. “Ah, I see it here. And even better news, you have it with our very own Y/N Y/L/N”, Stacie said before eagerly passing him a water and leading him to Y/N who stood, heart beating through her chest and palms feeling hot and sweaty. The couple reached her section and Stacie said “Miss Y/L/N, your 3:30 is here early”; she skipped back to her spot as the pair stood off. Y/N knew that he knew she hated to have altercations publicly which gave him an excuse to be manipulative and repulsive. “Hello, Miss Y/L/N. I’m Tyler”; she stood in complete silence.

~ “Alright, class. Don’t forget I have to meet your parents tomorrow morning before I go on my break.” The class awed and sounded saddened as N’Jadaka stood in front with arms folded. He loved the kids and they loved him even more and it made him sad just thinking he would be gone for a while but knew once he came back and told them he was engaged, they would be super excited. “I know I know but I’ll be back before you know it. Now, class is dismissed. If you are staying behind with the after hours program, you can meet your assigned teacher in the eating hall. I’ll catch you tomorrow”; the class began to all say their goodbyes as they ran out but that’s when he noticed Miss Zasha was still in her seat. “Miss Zasha, is your pops running late again?”

“No, my auntie Shay Shay is picking me up. She runn-” “She is”, N’Jadaka said, correcting with a brow raised and hands behind his back. Zasha looked up at him and said “she is running late.” N’Jadaka nodded as he began to clean up and prepare to head out himself. He sent a quick text to the ones he missed from Shuri, his boys, Sheila and of course, his future wife; the prince couldn’t wait for tomorrow night. He knew that she would be a beautiful wife. Just the thought of her reaction to the island view of Wakanda made him smile to himself as he heard the sound of heels clicking in the hall. “TT Shay Shay”, Zasha exclaimed with excitement, hopping from her seat. But when N'Jadaka turned with his briefcase-like bag in hand, he could feel his blood boil once he saw the mysterious woman; it was Kesha, wearing a burgundy skirt suit combo with cheetah print heels and her hair cut into a bob. N’Jadaka met eyes with Kesha which made her stand straight, walking over to him. “Well, well, well. Long time no see, Mr. Udaku.” Kesha looked back to her niece and signaled her head to the playground with her friends. “My brother told me that he was scheduled to talk about Zasha and how she be in class.” “I’m meeting parents tomorrow, Kesha.” N’Jadaka was trying to dismiss her but she didn’t budge. “Daka-”. “Mr. Udaku.” N’Jadaka glared at her as he stood at his desk. She held her hands in the air then in front of her, folded. “Mr. Udaku, he scheduled it today since he is busy today and tomorrow. I’m just tryna help him out.” N’Jadaka heavily sighed as they stood looking at one another. ~

Back at the shop, Y/N had a cape around Rodney’s neck tightly before she placed him in front of the hair washing bowl. Rodney tried to look in her eyes but she wasn’t falling for the trap; she looked ahead, paying him no mind and said “lean back into the bowl, please.” He deeply chuckled before he followed the order but not without checking her body out which she noticed and placed a towel over his eyes only; Rodney took the towel off his eyes as she began washing his coarse hair. No conversation between the two which made things even more tense. 

“You smell nice, I don’t remember that scent.” Y/N looked down at his face but saw that his eyes were closed while he enjoyed her fingers in his hair. She began to massage deeper into his scalp and noticed something that made her chuckle which made him ask “what’s funny?”

“Your thinning hair. Guess ya new girl can’t do hair, huh?” Rodney sighed while easing more into the chair. “I ain’t got a girl no more.” Y/N looked away still washing before he said “shorty was making my hair fall out. That’s why I’m here, so you can help me out.”“And what makes you think I would help you, Rodney?”“Because I’m in this chair right now and I know you hate makin’ a scene, shorty.” Y/N stood there, knowing it was true which made her stand silent. Rodney sighed and said “nah, but me and Ash kept on fightin’. I’m gettin’ too old for that high school shit, no cap”, no response from Y/N. “Besides, she kept talkin’ about ya man”, this caught her attention. “What did she say?”

“I knew that would get you speakin’, shorty?” She tugged his hair harshly making him wince. “OK, OK. He was tryna compare me to him. She wanted me to do everything he did besides being the whole ass virgin shit. The bitch even tried to lock my shit.”

“And that’s why you baldin’.”

“Shit and her fucking naggin’ the fuck outta me too. Had me on this fucking all protein, no carb diet tryna bulk me up and everythin’. That shit was fa sho depressin’.” Y/N nodded her head as he spoke to her about everything and thought about how her Daka could be with someone that controlling. “Man, I had to dump her because fuck all dat shit. She tried to do that instant loc bullshit on my dome and had me all fucked up. I had to call Ma Dukes to help comb that shit out. Took half my hair with it.”

“Yeah, I know you got a fucked up head inside and out”, she said thinking he would rebuttal something mean and nasty but instead she heard “yeah, yeah I know”; she looked in his face and then away as she continued to work on his scalp.  ~

N’Jadaka opened up his laptop to find his notes on Zasha as Kesha watched his fingers move against the keyboard, both seated on opposite sides of his desk. “Alright, Zasha Lewis. Zasha is a bright kid like the others but she can be lazy and always wants the last word. She always talks over others saying the wrong answer over their right answer.” Kesha looked into his face as she read, closed her eyes and opened them again as she said “I’m happy for you.” N’Jadaka looked up from his laptop, with a scrunched confused look, then to Kesha’s face who looked at him with a soft, sincere look. He took off his glasses and looked at her with a raised brow and intimidating face. “Excuse me?” “I am very proud of you and Y/N.” “Kesha, we are here to talk about your-” “Lemme finish. Please,” Kesha pleaded, making N’Jadaka pull out his phone. “What are you”-. Her question was caught off once he put his strong finger in the air to silence her. He placed the phone down and pressed start on the three minute timer. “You can talk again.” She took a deep breath before saying. “I am very happy for you and my best-”. “Ex.”

“Ex best friend. Between the shop, the center and your relationship it makes me feel like black love is still alive. But I’m very happy that Y/N finally has someone like you. After her last, she didn’t want anything to do with men again. Like it was really bad. She cried a lot and I know her folks hate seeing. I just know that y’all are really happy and-.” *RING. RING. RING* The sound of N’Jadaka’s phone went off and his eyes fell on the screen, tapping it to stop the noise and he stood fixing his trousers; he began to pack his things, placed his glasses into its case and said “let Zasha’s father know I will be sending him notes on this meeting. Be easy”;  with that, he made his exit as the custodian walked in to clean and lock up for N’Jadaka, leaving Kesha behind in her thoughts and texting on her phone.

Back at the shop, the beauticians and staff all talked while working on their clients when the nail stylist asked “so, Miss Boss Lady, when you think Mr. N’Jadaka gonna pop that question, hm?” Everyone whispered and asked the question again, commenting. “Yeah, Miss Y/N. He seems so amazing. Are we all invited once y’all tie the knot”, asked an excited Stacie from the wash bowl. Y/N was in the process working some oil through Rodney’s hair. “Not y’all being nosey.” “Not nosey. I just love that he loves you. Check it out. He literally sends you flowers every Wednesday at noon on the dot. Because of him, I do that for my lady now too. Expensive as shit but worth it, y’know”, said the male barber. “And don’t forget, he sends us all lunch every Friday”, said the nail stylist beside him. “Oh and plus, he comes by to sit with you every weekend to keep you company in the shop. If that isn’t a future husband then I don’t know what is, girl”, said one of the Transwomen beauticians. Y/N smiled, rolling her eyes as Rodney listened to all the sweet things N’Jadaka had done for his ex-girl and pulling out his phone to type. “Relax, relax. Why does everyone want me to get married all of a sudden”, Y/N asked as she giggled. 

“I HAD A DREAM ABOUT FOUR FISH LAST NIGHT!”, yelled out old sweet Miss Jackson from under the hairdryer; the group laughed as Y/N shook her head. Stacie began to help one of the patrons into a seat under another hair dryer before she grabbed the broom and began to sweep around the beauticians and barbers. “Miss Y/N. Do you wanna marry N’Jadaka?” The shop became quiet except for the music and TV being played in the background. Y/N began to have the thought of N’Jadaka. From her mother mentioning Daka proposing to her, to him becoming suspicious and secretive, to now the shop talking about it, she was starting to think that this could be a sign. Daka was once a stranger who helped her when a creepy man approached her to, now, the love of her life; in that moment she realized that she couldn’t see herself without N’Jadaka Udaku-Stevens. “Yeah, I do.” Everyone looked over at her, including Rodney who looked into the mirror in front of them. Stacie grinned once she stopped sweeping and said “you do, Miss Y/L/N?”

“Well, yeah. I feel like I’m at that point in my life where I want my forever partner and besides, I really can’t imagine myself without him. But I won’t lie, it scares me a little. I can’t describe it.” Miss Sawyer sat in the chair beside her getting her hot oil treatment set in as she smiled to herself. “I was in the same boat. You know young lady, back in my day, my daddy had owned a club with some white man I grew up with and I had to marry his god awful son.” Y/N looked over at her with concern in her eyes and said “Miss Sawyer, you did? You never told me that.” “Yeah, sure I did. I wasn’t happy, baby doll. I cried so many days and nights thinking of how I could be married off to a man, let alone a white one who truly did not love me.”  The shop nodded, taking in her words before she spoke again. “Then I caught him with another woman on his lap, literally a week after he had proposed to me. What even made it worse is that I was getting sexually harassed at where all this happened”; a mixture of gasps, shock and disgust.  “But all of a sudden, the bartender who worked for my poppa and his partner stepped in and when I tell you, the way I knew he would protect me from even a bear had me hot and unbothered”; the group including Y/N laughed. “But I tell you something. I’m not tryna talk ya ear off, baby doll, or none of y’all as a matter of fact. But I just wanna let you know that I went through the same thing you did, honey. I was scared to fall in love with my husband now but he convinced me with his actions that he was meant to be my life partner. The way he got rid of that man. Protecting me. Loving me. And if I could go back in time and do it all over again, I would.” Y/N stood there still working on Rodney’s head on autopilot and deep in her thoughts. She thought about Miss Sawyers’ words but she wasn’t the only one; Rodney sat looking at his ex through the mirror with a softened look. He took a deep breath and began typing against his phone, hoping his partner in crime got the message before it was too late. ~

Across town, Kesha sat in her car, houses down looking through her rearview mirror waiting for the target to arrive at the house. Her phone began vibrating in the cup holder before she picked it up and read the message, scoffing at the words, replying and threw the phone back in her purse. That’s when she saw the man, pulling into the driveway and parking to relax before planning the date night. He hopped out and made his way to the passenger side, grabbing a huge bouquet of white roses and his briefcase; he opened the door, unlocking with his key and stepping in. “Alright, babe closes the shop at like 8 today so I got like a few hours to spare and set up”, N’Jadaka said, as he placed the flowers on the end table by the front door. He kicked his dress shoes off, held them in his hands and made his way to the room to change and grab the spare clothes he always had at Y/N’s place. Once he was done with his shower, took a nap and relaxed, he realized that it was now four pm; he had to start getting ready for Y/N.

Back at the shop, Y/N had finished with Rodney’s hair. “Alright, all done. You need to use this sample everyday until it’s all gone, once in the morning when you wake up and once right before bed”. She took off his cape and was about to head to her office to decompress but felt something grab her wrist softly.  Y/N looked at him and could tell he wanted to say something but instead took a deep breath and placed something in her hand before saying “thank you. Take care of ya self, shawty.” With that, he walked out to his car and drove out the lot. When she looked in her hand, she noticed that he had placed five hundred dollars including tip money; she went ahead to her office to place the money away in her safe.

Back at the house, N’Jadaka tipped and thanked the delivery man and began to place the white wine in the fridge. “Aight, Sweets got the delivery, the restaurant got the plan and everything is set. I got my baby’s favorites and everything. Bast, please let this go smoothly.” N’Jadaka began to set things up by using some rose petals he bought from the florist earlier. He scattered them from the front door, around the dinner table and leading to the bedroom around her bed. He even began to pack all her things into new luggage cases he got back home but not before holding up the cream colored dress he planned for her to wear for the dinner night. Silk with a lace pattern and slits on both thighs of the gown. He began to play their song, setting the mood for the perfect night and humming to the lyrics. N’Jadaka knew her heart would absolutely melt when she saw everything set up the way it was. He ran into the kitchen to put ice into a metal bowl to place the white wine and placed it on the table, right in the middle. He had to make sure she loved it so she could say yes to the trip and yes to the ring.  As he placed the luggage into her closet for even more of a surprise, he began to hear the door open and shut along with the sound of heels clicking. At first, he thought it was his woman but that’s when he realized Y/N didn’t wear heels so it had to be Leslie. “What’s good, Leslie? Y/N is at the shop-.” His statement was cut short when he noticed that it wasn’t his friend at all. It was Kesha dressed in all cheetah print lingerie and matching heels under her robe. “Heyyy, Daka.” ~

“Hey, y’all”, cheered Leslie peeking half her body into the door; everyone greeted her as she walked in heading to Y/N who was in her seat. “Hey, best friend.” Y/N said her hello, hugged her and they made their way into her office. Leslie sat in front of her best friend’s table trying to get a good look at her left hand but saw no ring; she kissed her teeth so loudly at the sight that it made Y/N turn around. “Girl, you good?” Leslie had to think of something and fast. “Oh girl, nothing, just my damn job. I’m finna quit that muthafucka.”“Please, whore. You say that every fuckin’ time you work” Y/N said with a giggle. Leslie made a mocking face, making fun of her friend before saying “anyways, whore. Did you bring my bag”; that’s when she remembered it was on her kitchen counter. “Damn, I knew I forgot something. We can head to the house right now and grab it.”

“Girl, it can wait”, Leslie laughed but Y/N was already up with her bag. “No, no. Girl, we can head out and grab it now. I gotta tell you who the fuck my last client was”; they hopped in Leslie’s car and made their way back to the house. “So, girl tell me who my last client was”, Y/N asked Leslie as her friend kept her eyes on the road. “You better not say Kesha. Or I swea fuh GAWD.”“Rodney”; this made Leslie swerved resulting in the honks around them before she drove straight again. “RODNEY’S PUNK ASS”, Leslie said, digustingly and annoyed. “Yep, his ass used a fake name.”“He ain’t try nothing, did he? I needed a good ass reason to use my new gun.”“Good God, Leslie. No”; the light changed to green. “So, what happened?” Y/N chuckled to herself and said “you remember that bitch we fucked up at the club?” Leslie snickered out loud and said “what he got her pregnant?” “Nope, they broke up.”

“What the fuck that gotta do with you, girl?” Y/N side eyed her  before saying “the nigga is balding.”

“Chile, I been knew that. His daddy bald headed, his momma baldheaded, HELL his old ass grandma bald headed”. Y/N laughed before she said “but our girl was at the shop though.” “Miss Sawyer?!” “Mhm, sure was. She was of course preaching about love and what not.” “She always preaching, best but you gotta think, Mama Sawyer seen and dealt with some shit. Remember I was scared to have baby boy? Miss Sawyer told me I would be just fine and she would pray for us all and look what happened? He running around from diaper changes and shit.” The girls laughed until Y/N said “she mentioned marriage. Have you notice JD acting weird?” Leslie looked over at Y/N then back to the road “what you mean?”

“Like, he might propose.” Leslie deep down wanted to smile and scream YES but she didn’t want to ruin in surprise whatever they may be. “Hm, I ain’t sure. Not gonna lie. I only be around him when you around, boo.”“So, he hasn’t said anythin’ to y’all?”“Nope, nothing boo”; they soon made their way around the corner of her neighborhood and before she began to say “I’m not sure. There are just signs lik-” but stopped when she saw N’Jadaka’s car in the driveway. “I ain’t know babe was here. He texts me when he usually here.” Leslie only smiled when her friend wasn’t paying her any mind. She could only thing “EEEEEKKKKK, I get to see my homegirl getting proposed to.” Y/N stepped out, leaving her purse in the backseat, and placing feet on the sidewalk while Leslie followed behind quickly, eager; that’s when Leslie noticed something down the street. A familiar car, lashes on the headlights, bedazzled license plate and it looked like if the dashboard was covered in some type of polka dot. No. Nah. It was cheetah print… When the ladies approached closer, they could hear music playing from the home. “His playing our song.” Leslie looked at her friend who slowly smiled before using her keys to unlock the door. They spotted the rose petals around but also seen a white wine bottle open on the glass table, one with maroon lipstick smeared on it. Y/N went over to the table to get a closer look but Leslie could hear something from the bedroom. 

“Y/N”, Leslie said, looking at the bedroom door and feeling her body heat up. Y/N walked behind her as she could hear the voices over each other. Leslie could hear her friend breathing heavily, showing she was trying to stay calm but Leslie knew her friend way too well; Y/N was about to put her hands on someone and Leslie would help her do so. As soon as she opened the door, N’Jadaka was on the other side, holding a half-naked Kesha by her arm, and said “Now, get the fuck out before”...

N’Jadaka and Y/N met eye to eye as he finished. “Baby is here.”

WHAT THE HELL JUST HAPPEN?! Guess y'all will have to find out NEXT WEEK!!!!!! CUE THE EVIL LAUGHSSSS

-SWEET BABIES-

@muse-of-mbaku

@im5ftbutmythroat66

@chaneajoyyy

@melanin-samii

@theunsweetenedtruth

@doux-ciel

@unicornluvin8765

@vikkidc

@wakandantings

@thadelightfulone

@mzamethystp

@simbiann

@tropicalsun10

@babydoll756

@notoriouslynay

@vminax

@quinsly

@pinkdemolition

@quietstorm-73

@chaoticcashfancroissant

@bugngiz

@chocolatedippedinhoney

@yafavcocoa

@lostgalaxies

@mbakuwife

@youreadthatright

@babygotl01292003

@acceptyourselfloveyourself

@madamslayyy

@yoyolovesbucky

@theogbadbitch

@wakanda-inspired

@bitchacho25

@toniilaney

@wakandascrystal

@girlsneedlovingfanfics

@raysunshine78

@melodyofmbaku

@hearteyes-for-killmonger

@silenceisplatinum

@thickemadame

@shookmcgookqueen

@heykillmongerluhme

@fonville-designs

@cutewylie​

@allhailqueennel​

@10bsatatime

@nickidub718​

@lildashofmelanin

@allhailqueennel

@amirra88

@hakunalive4eva

@ghostfacekill-monger

@thickemadame

@ladymac82

~ @muse-of-mbaku @im5ftbutmythroat66 @chaneajoyyy @melanin-samii @theunsweetenedtruth @doux-ciel @unicornluvin8765 @vikkidc @wakandantings @thadelightfulone @mzamethystp @simbiann @tropicalsun10 @babydoll756 @notoriouslynay @vminax @quinsly @pinkdemolition @quietstorm-73 @chaoticcashfancroissant @bugngiz @chocolatedippedinhoney @yafavcocoa @lostgalaxies @mbakuwife @youreadthatright @babygotl01292003 @acceptyourselfloveyourself @madamslayyy @yoyolovesbucky @theogbadbitch @wakanda-inspired @bitchacho25 @toniilaney @wakandascrystal @girlsneedlovingfanfics @raysunshine78 @melodyofmbaku @hearteyes-for-killmonger @silenceisplatinum @thickemadame @shookmcgookqueen @heykillmongerluhme @fonville-designs @cutewylie @allhailqueennel @10bsatatime @nickidub718 @lildashofmelanin @allhailqueennel @amirra88 @hakunalive4eva @thickemadame @ghostfacekill-monger

[satancopilotsmytardis]

Obsession was so good!!! 

"He expects his flesh to bubble and burn, expects it to cut through those surface layers of it and leave him without the limb again"

I'm sorry again?? And how he immediately stood in the light afterward??? My fucking heart

"All For One had come to check up on him, and Tomura had clung to him, not understanding what had happened to him. But he could smell that the other man was... angry, unhappy, disappointed. He knew it was his fault that he felt those things and Tomura had done his best to stop crying as he had been taken back to the doctor."

I WILL FIGHT THAT MAN!!! Your version of Tomuras upbringing is always incredible, I'm eating it up whenever it features, and this fic was wonderfully painful thank you lol

Dabi being afraid of muscular :(( damn endeavor

Shig leaving a cold spot on the bed is so funny

I love that you kept the boys relationship pretty sweet while sticking to the obsession prompt!! That dynamic works well for them. Shig gets to be mildly creepy, Dabi never feels ignored again, win win

All the pet names in Tomuras inner monologue are adorable. Wildfire <3

The spit kink..... I'm insane. Dabi you slut (affectionate)

"The heady thought of drinking enough that his firefly won't be able to get hard flits through his mind. He tucks that thought away for later." 

PULL IT BACK OUT TELL ME EVERYTHING

Oooh the misunderstanding. Poor Dabi. I feel awful for Tomura too but also yikes that phone call

"You were sucking and fucking me six ways to Sunday!"

"Such a fucking creep." His mouth is full of his fangs as he sees the other looking so good against his sheets again. "Yeah." 

I snorted

I loved their whole argument, Dabi's so upset but he's scary as hell when we're not in his head

"Tomura thinks, maybe, that means that Dabi's heartbeat will be his from now on too and that makes the silence in his own chest far less deafening."

Such a beautiful line to wrap up this fic!! Thank you tanco

Today was such an ordeal (SQUIRRELS ATE MY INTERNET CABLE) and this was such a nice ask to receive after all of that.

Ujiko and AFO have definitely been torturing that poor boy for years under the guise of making him 'better' and Tomura definitely just got used to putting up with it.

AFO is a POS adoptive father and he always will be!!

Dabi doesn't do well with hulking figures who use their physical strength to get what they want :)

This is PEAK dynamic for them lol, Shigaraki is already always slightly creepy anyway so it it just makes sense.

wildfire is absolutely entering the rotation of pet names from now on

mmm, Tomura having Dabi in his lap, his back to his chest as he makes Dabi touch himself while he whispers filthy things in his ear and licks and nibbles on his neck, refusing to break skin until Dabi is so close to his orgasm. He bites and drains his blood so that as Dabi cums, he's doing it as he softens and makes him keep stroking himself until he thinks he's ready to go again, even though he's still not hard before he lets his pretty human sip at his veins and watches as he hardens and cums rapidly a second time, cooing over how cute he is 💕

Dabi was peak angry pomeranian in this one and we love to see it.

Thank you so much for the kind words! This really made my day!

[cdelphiki]

Hi I just wanted to say that my roman empire for the last four years has literally been jason and the three terrors. It was jason and the three terrors in 2020 when I first found it after like chapter two I think and it's jason and the three terrors in 2024 fifty seven chapters in.

I think about it multiple times a day.

I am constantly rotating the characters, their interactions, possible plotlines and arcs and theories and endings in my head like a fucking microwave with my face pressed up against the glass.

Your fic has consumed me because of how good it is and frankly I am never going to be the same again. People talk about that ONE fic they never forget about even years later that like opened their third eye and for me this is it. I'm ruined forever now, sorry.

(all jokes aside, I think you're an incredibly talented writer and I would happily wait five years humming and kicking my feet for whatever you wanted to give whenever you were in a place to update. Love everything you do, I'm so incredibly grateful you decided to share this story and I hope both sides of your pillow will remain cool and comforting forever!)

🥹❤️❤️

You have no idea how much that means to me. This story has been a worm in my brain since 2019 when I started writing it, even when I was going through my rough patch there and wasn’t able to write much, this story was the one I went to sleep thinking about. I’ve imagined the Jason & Bruce reunion a million times. I’m so glad you’re still around after so long and just as excited about it as I am. Thanks for sticking around and thanks for sharing this with me. ❤️ you’ve truly made my night.

[captainkirkk]

✩ WEEKLY FIC ROUND-UP ✩

All the fics I’ve read and really enjoyed in the past week-ish. Reminder: This list features any and all ratings and themes. Please look at tags and warnings on ao3 before reading.

DC

my dearly departed by redrobin1989

Kon heard the stories about how Tim had fallen apart after he died. He couldn’t imagine what Tim had gone through, what he’d been feeling. Even now, with the shoe now on the other foot, Conner doesn’t know how to cope. Especially when he needs to keep his boyfriend’s collapsing family together.

Exit Strategy by smilebackwards

Batman needs a Robin and Batman has a Robin. Tim is just extraneous now, vestigial. He’s a bandage over a healed wound. He doesn’t know what he’s hanging on to.

Or: Tim didn’t expect his exit strategy from the Batfamily to involve quite so much bonding time with Damian over Wayne Enterprises bureaucracy.

the capillaries in my eyes are bursting by Scarlet_Ribbons

Bruce grunts, standing up. “Jenkins said the same. What about what you weren’t told?”

And without dissembling, Jason says, “I think they fucked that kid up, B.”

[Jack and Janet die. As things get weirder and weirder, it feels like Tim might be at the center of the unfolding conspiracy.]

Stranger Things

and i know that you don’t, but if i ask you if you love me— by fakecharliebrown

Once, only a few weeks before his parents decide he’s too old to be tucked into bed at night, Steve grabs his mother by the wrist and asks, “Does Father love me?”

“Of course he does,” she says immediately, smoothing the blanket where it rests over his chest.

Steve blinks up at her. “Then how come he never says it?”

She purses her lips. “He shouldn’t have to, sweetheart. You should just know.”

(It isn’t until years down the line that Steve realizes she’d somehow turned that into being his fault.)

or; Steve Harrington through the years, on loving and being loved.

Percy Jackson

percy jackson and the scrutiny of his coworkers by pqrker

Jim turned back to the tank and looked at Marcie the seal, who was now staring at the spot his coworker had been standing just moments before with that same strange look of reverence in her eyes.

Percy Jackson truly was the oddest person Jim Elpool had ever worked with.

Or: 5 times percy's coworkers were confounded by his fish magic, plus 1 time they try to figure it out.

Star Wars

Bounty by smilebackwards

"You took a puck for Luke Skywalker?”

Din looks up at the tenseness in Cara’s voice.

“Yes?” The puck for Skywalker had been passed over by half a dozen hunters, surprising considering the price on his head, but Din had assumed that was because his last known location was Coruscant. The Core is a dangerous place to hunt bounties.

“If I didn’t consider you a friend,” Cara says, with a tone that sounds like she’s reconsidering it, “I’d shoot you where you stand for admitting that."

SVSSS

What Is Seen by CaveteDracones

....is not [always] the real truth.

Truth-compelling artifacts in the hands of an enemy to one side, SYSTEM-mandated silence on the other, and Shen Qingqiu caught between the two. Is it too late to go back to the Water Prison?

and judgment is just like a cup that we share by Kieron_ODuibhir

The blob finished rotating into place in a way that wasn’t quite compatible with geometry as Shen Qingqiu understood it, and cleared a throat it didn’t seem to have.

“Greetings,” it said, somehow clearly addressing him in particular more than the room as a whole despite its total lack of features other than blueness and translucency. “I’m here on behalf of the Hyper-Celestial Peace and Order Enforcement Bureau. Crime scene secure, proceeding to interviews. Beginning with Subject One: You are Shen Qingqiu, formerly Shen Yuan, also known as Peerless Cucumber?"

[circle--of--confusion]

Wip Wednesday!

Working on a Dracopia [as papa] / Reader fic where they exchange anonymous messages via a ministry matchmaking service. Reader is good friends with Copia and has been too chicken to reveal their secret.

“Have you read this?” You walk through the office door of Copia’s, the current Papa Emeritus the Fourth. “Papa found his ‘soulmate’ and thinks he can do that for us- are you filling out an application?”

Copia’s eyes snap up to yours, wide. He rushes to hide the piece of paper into a desk drawer but you’re too quick for him. “Sorella, please, give me mercy. I beg you.” He asks as you grab it from his hands.

“I didn’t take you for the begging type.” You raise your eyebrows up a couple times and you smirk at the double entendre. “Are you actually doing the matchmaking thing?”

His shoulders slump and he props his chin into his gloved fist as he presses his elbow in the desk. “Would that be so awful? I’ve been feeling… lonely as of late. Maybe it’s the weather.”

You tilt your head and chuckle. “Oh! I didn’t realize my company was so suffocating.” The words come out playful but Copia’s face changes to shock and he begins to apologize.

“No! Dolcezza, no I could never get tired of my time with you. I just… centuries on this earth all by myself have, eh, caught up to me I think?” He cringes, wringing his hands together as he looks at you.

You swat your hand in the air. “I’m fucking with you, Copia. Companionship is a natural thing to want. And for your sake, I hope you don’t get matched with someone who has a vampire kink or something.” His face is covered in paint but you can tell by the look of his face that he’s blushing.

His eyebrow raises and he smirks. “Would that be so bad?” you both laugh. “What are you doing here, by the way?”

“I need a reason now?” You shake your head. “It’s almost lunch time. I came to see if you’re dining out or if we need to bring you anything to eat here.”

Copia nods. “It’s to-go today, I’m afraid. My Black Mass speech is almost done but it needs a few tweaks.”

You nod, turning to grab his food. It probably could’ve been a text but he’s your friend and you haven’t seen a lot of Copia since he got back from his recent tour.  And you’ve missed your good friend. A deflated sigh leaves your lips. Your days were numbered, you knew that. He can’t keep spending all of his free time with some sibling even if you’ve known each other since his cardinal says before fronting the band.

And of course, the crush on the now Papa has been there since nearly the beginning. His awkward demeanor and random movie references endeared him to you almost instantly. The randomly coincidental lunches in the great hall moved to coordinated lunches as he slowly rose through the ranks. The two of you have been inseparable over the years and you kept telling yourself “One day I’ll tell him how I feel.” And then he looks at you a particular way and every word you’ve ever learned gets flushed out of your brain.  

You grumble into the kitchens, meeting the other papal assistants on their lunch breaks. You along with a handful of siblings are tasked to assist with anything the Papas might need. There’s a rotating schedule and this week is your week with Copia. There may or may not have been some bribery with the schedule maker to have the week he gets back from the tour.

“Hey! So is this delivery or is he leaving the office?” A sister, Carla, says as you enter.

“Delivery. And get this, you know I don’t like to gossip, but!” You look around to see if anyone else is around the corner. “Copia was filling out the matchmaking application.” You whisper-scream.

Carla looks back, stunned, and laughs. “I hope you remember what he wrote. You’re gonna need it when you fill out your application.” She nods and goes back to eating her salad.

“My application?” You scoff, deflecting. “I have no idea what you’re talking about.”

“Mhm, right. Like you haven’t been pining after him for years. Tell me again, when was the last time you went on a date?” She points at you.

“Like… six months ago?”

Carla laughs. “And whatever happened with him?”

“Oh, that fizzled out. Around that time, I’d told Copia I hadn’t ever seen the Star Wars movies and he insisted on ‘educating’ me by watching one each night in release order.” She drops her fork into her bowl with a clang and looks at you with a pointed face as she chews. You roll your eyes. “What’s going on in your world this week with Papa Primo?”

Carla’s eyes perk up and she rushes to finish her bite. “He finally got clearance from Sister Imperator for a poison garden. A bit of a misnomer as it’ll also have the antidotes.”

----------------

Anyways ! I'm not sure when I'll post it but i want to get a bit more written before I upload the first chapter.

[momosandlemonsoda]

for the wip ask game: i think that i'm breaking form a bit here, but i'd be fascinated to hear about your process for the long fics, if you wanted to talk about it. how much do you have planned out in your head before you start? how do you maintain such consistency in them?

apologies right now for how long this got...

So I’ve been mulling this over for a while, trying to figure out how to answer it. I’ll go ahead and use DTSD as the example, since it’s the one currently living rent-free in my brain, but this probably applies to all my long-fic.

A lot of times when I get an idea and start rotating it in my head, I spend a fair amount of time just doing that. Trying to figure out what’s going on, where the story is going, what I want to do before the end. I usually have things I’ve envisioned I want to include. And then lines show up out of nowhere that I have to write down, and then a scene kind of forms around it. 

I start telling myself the story—but I can’t go too far, because if I know the ending, I lose momentum and probably won’t write it. At the same time, I fully expected to be at the next major plot point by now (this was supposed to be 80k, she wails) and I am not because first, there were other plot points that showed up, but more… I wanted to let things happen more organically. I could write you 3k of LLH and DFS fucking for the first time in 10 years, but it wouldn’t have been true to either of them (and I really, really needed LLH to attempt to seduce DFS in an alley and get interrupted, this has been living in my head since like November) (also sex scenes are the worst and I need so many words to get to the actual fucking, maybe this wasn’t a good example). (maybe a better example is that I had no plans for FDB to play the showcase originally and when I decided to do that I figured that there would be like 4 chapters between him signing up and him playing.) ( ha ha ha sob )

I do know what is happening further out—I know the backstory that I’ve been feeding you in dribs and drabs, I know the way that Shan Gudao and Jiao Liqiao are going to show back up. I am determined to have LLH and FDB dance at a club and DFS angrily stalk over and join them. I have a fair amount of the next big arc written down in disconnected pieces (why are the connect-y bits so hard?). So I guess the good news is, I do have a plan for DTSD, and I don’t write unhappy endings. But the ~bad~ news is, I don’t actually know what that happy ending is. I’m still feeling out what seems in character for the three of them. 

As for consistency—first, thanks very much for the compliment! Second, the fics I like best, the ones I come back to again and again, are the ones that take their time to get where they’re going because they really dig into their characters, and they let the characters breathe so that their actions make sense, they aren’t contrived for the plot. So a lot of it is me going, ok, but how would they get there? How would that character react? With a background as a child of privilege living in the real world, not fantasy jianghu China, how does FDB react to being told he can’t make music, when that’s fundamental to him? If Li Lianhua is planning on keeping the rhythms of his life and leaving town because it’s warm now and he has enough money, what would make him stay? (spoiler: it’s certainly not the two men who are half (fully?) in love with him.) If Di Feisheng is a well-known musician trying to make a comeback and his former bandmate turns stalker, how is he going to deal with it?

So I think that’s what keeps me going, and keeps it consistent—I don’t need to bend them into particular shapes because I’m not completely certain how they’ll look in the end, and I’m trying to see how they respond to what I throw at them, and stay true (or as true as I can manage) to my interpretation of the character in canon.

[incesthemes]

Trick or treat!! :-)

happy (late) halloween!!! sorry this took so long, but for you i started writing this fucking tozer/irving fic that won't get out of my head for the life of me. it's based on the apparent fact that tozer's sister left her abusive husband to live the rest of her life as a man. the survivors (who? doesn't matter) return to england and resume their lives, but sol struggles in the absence of his sister and decides to get a little gender about it. irving invents queer heterosexuality over this.

Cathy left two of her dresses in a trunk at home. Sol pulls them out one at a time; they haven’t gathered dust over the years, but there’s a stiffness even he can feel in the material that comes with disuse. He runs his fingers over the wool like it will tell him a story, but he’s never been particularly imaginative. The gowns stay silent. Cathy is gone, Solomon concludes one more time, and she’s left her life behind her. She probably doesn’t even know that her brother is alive. Well, not so much, but alive. The clothing will fetch a fair price; she took good care of them, and there’s hardly a tear in the seams even years after she probably acquired them. He can take these to market, pawn them off, trade the coin for soup. Survive until the Navy calls him back, because the Navy doesn’t care if he’d spent four days in the arctic or four years. The wool is warm in his hands, but England’s winters aren’t so dominated by ice; even the Thames runs freely this year. England’s winters are the summers of the Canadian arctic, and now he is dressed down to his shirtsleeves in the middle of December, thin linen to cover his arms where the ladies and men of West Brom’s are bundled tightly in layers. He doesn’t know any of those ladies, none of those men. Their faces are different, even if their names are the same. And most of the names are no longer the same, either. The streets are crowded and the world is smaller than he’d known before. The baker left for London, he’d been told, three years ago, fleeing poverty. The farmers have rotated out; God knows where the ones he’d known have gone. The city has modernized while he was away, and it’s only now in the midst of this growing city that he understands how fast the world changes and leaves people behind. These dresses would earn him a pretty penny. He would survive in this new world with these new people and new contraptions and new rules so vastly different from the rules of the arctic. Cathy’s mirror glints in the fading light of the dying sun (the sun always sets here, always comes back up). He turns and blinks in the bright flash, and when the spots clear from his eyes he’s staring at himself, the simple jade pattern bundled in his lap. The skirt drapes nicely over his lap, the bodice clutched almost desperately in his fists. The creeping English twilight threatens to take all the world with it, and he grips tighter to Cathy’s dress like it will take him back. He holds the bodice up to the last bits of light trickling through the grimy window, and then he holds it up to himself. In the mirror he sees the outline of a young girl, smiling and gay, long hair twisted up off her shoulders but clumsy in its fashion. He wonders where his sister is now. He wonders why she left her dresses. With a deep sigh, he collects the endless yards of fabric in his arms and deposits them with much less grace and care back into the trunk.

[darkpoisonouslove]

1, 2, 7, 8, 24, 25, 27 for fic writing asks :) Hope you’re feeling better!

Thanks!

1.the last sentence you wrote

Well, I posted the last fic I worked on so here's the last sentence(s) from my Fallen Love Chapter 3 doc:

Her head spun from just the couple inches her heels added to her height. She’d bet on practicality for years but combat boots would only take her back to the battlefield. They simply didn’t make sense without the threat of war hanging over her head.

(I was going to play by the rules but the angst doesn't really hit with just the last sentence so...)

2. a character whose POV you’re currently exploring

Oh, my god, I've got nothing for this. I have been sick for over a week. Before that I was barely working on that Erendor x Samara fic I wanted to finish. Tbh my head has been way more into House of the Dragon (heaven knows why when the writers are hacks) than any of my own stuff. Like, I am hyperfixating in the most annoying way where I'm not coming up with fic, I'm not really analyzing the text that much, I'm just rotating the same thought in my head like it's a microwave that doesn't work and I'm hoping the heat generated by the rotating motion itself will be enough to cook my fucking thought.

But yeah, if we're talking about actual writing, then I'd have to go with Griffin since Fallen Love is all from her PoV (and so are all of my other recent Griffin x Valtor ideas, which are all I have). She's, uh... She's having a bad time and I don't know how to make it better. The good news is that I don't have to yet but at some point she's going to have to figure out what to do with her life now that she's not at war every day and I. Don't. Know what I'll do then. For now she's having Realizations TM but those are def spoilers.

7. your preferred writing fonts

I don't have any. Unless the one that's already set isn't an abomination, I just don't care. I'm using Libre Office and my default is Liberation Serif so I'm just using that.

8. if you had to write a sequel to a fic, you’d write one for…

I suppose that fics that already have sequels planned don't count? I have several for which I'd write an AU but a sequel? Let's see.

Yeah, nope, I'll have to pick something from those that I've already thought of continuing.

Originally, Imitation Play was supposed to have a sequel but I decided that I don't have a clear enough idea for it so I've left it alone. I already have enough other stuff to work on but if I had to write a sequel to something I've already finished, I'd look at that one and try to figure out how to continue it.

24. how do you recharge when you’re not feeling creative?

Usually watch movies. Way more rarely read a book or fanfic. But if I'm looking to spark thoughts, then listen to a playlist or even make a moodboard (which I haven't really done recently). Recently I found out that spending time and having fun with your family can really charge you like nothing else. Huh, who would've thunk?

25. besides writing, what are your other hobbies?

There's watching movies and reading books. DIY. Drawing. Playing various games (sudoku, mahjong, jenga, crossword puzzles, chess occasionally). A couple more that I'd feel like a fraud if I list because it's really been years since I've done them.

27. your favorite part of the writing process

It's what would fall under outlining. When I'm making sense of the story and adding ideas, tying plot points together and just weaving it all into one. I like seeing how it comes together into a coherent story and since it's not super serious at that point, I don't have to stress out that much. I'm just throwing pasta at the wall and seeing what sticks. And then arranging the stuff that sticks into a coherent, beautiful pattern. I like that!

send me fic writer asks

[thosewickedlovelies]

wildflowers  |  Joel Miller x Reader

Summary: A change in the air, small as a candle flame

Tags: No warnings tbh. GN!Reader, not an age gap fic. If any soap-makers are reading this, do not tell me if I’m wrong about the QZ’s capabilities

Words: 1,511

Note: hiii babes. I don’t really know what this is, other than my brain’s desire to say something about this man. A possibility, perhaps. Written after ep 3, although there’s no plot/canon references.

Masterlist

Joel’s knees ache with every step upward to his apartment. The staircase protests beneath his weight, as if the chipped paint of the railing and the grime and graffiti on the walls weren’t warning enough about the state of this place. Not that people had much of a choice about it. This building is no more derelict than all the rest in the QZ. Unless it’s FEDRA quarters, maybe.

Joel snorts, and then has to stop as a lance of pain through his ribs takes the rest of his breath away. Fuck. Bruised from that slip he took earlier, maybe. Damn sewer maintenance.

Joel can hardly remember a time before the ever-present pain. Had there ever been a point when at least one part of his body didn’t ache, or twinge, or pinch? Had he ever lived in a world where everything wasn’t as gray as this fucking staircase, where he at least had some distraction at home from the shitty parts of the world and his aging body?

The door to his apartment opens, and the first thing Joel registers is the smell. It’s pleasant, sweet, like a sunny meadow full of wildflowers. What the fuck? Nothing smelled nice in the QZ- even all the flowering plants of spring couldn’t cover the stench of human hopelessness or the rotting world outside the walls. 

“Joel! You’ll never guess what I found last night!” You rush around the corner from the living room.

Carried by your passage, another wave of scent billows over him. Amidst dropping his keys and gear, Joel pauses for a fraction of a second, his eyes closing. Memories rise up, unbidden: a fat, tri-wick Yankee candle in his childhood living room, one in a rotation of his mother’s favored scents. The heady perfume of real flowers, the ones lining the fence of an Austin side street where he first kissed-

His jaw clenches, and he lets his pack thunk loud onto a dining room chair, hoping the sound will shatter the hold of his memories. 

Joel turns his head to you, raising his eyebrows. Well?

“Candles! That’s what the smell is- they were buried under some debris in an old corner shop, you know, the kind that were the first places to be looted when everything went to shit. Nobody went digging for a pack of scented candles then, but now…” Your eyes shine, proud and somehow…happy? 

Joel glances past you, to where a tiny flame dances brightly on the rickety bit of wood you call a coffee table. A little scented wax, about as useful as a bottle of perfume but more wasteful (firestarters being a valuable commodity), has brought you this much joy?

“I hope you plan on sellin’ the rest of the pack, unless you found somethin’ else to make the trip worthwhile.”

He doesn’t look back as he heads to the bathroom, intent on getting out of the sacrificial clothes he wears to work in the sewers.

You scoff, trailing after him to deliver your retort. “Obviously I did, no way I’m selling the whole pack. I need something to cover up your stink.”

Scowling, Joel pokes his head out around the bathroom door, only to see your mouth already open to finish him off. 

“And I’m not talking about the days you work sewage.” You smirk at him triumphantly.

A deeply resigned sigh is the only response you hear.

Joel has had two years to get used to you as a roommate, after the last building you both lived in collapsed unexpectedly (Or at least, unexpectedly to most. Joel had seen the signs, which was why he hadn’t lost as much of his stuff as everyone else. But he hadn’t been able to predict the exact moment it would fall). You’re…not the worst he could have gotten. Between your respective smuggling groups, you lived reasonably well (Joel still remembers the night that realization had come to light- it was the closest he’d come to genuine laughter in years). You’d even gone on the occasional independent run together. You don’t get in his way, but nor do you enable his worst impulses; although he’d never acknowledge it, it’s come to be something of a relief to have you around.

You’ve moved on from making fun of him, now listing other goods last night’s trip had brought in, interspersed with the occasional observation on the world outside or gossip about the people in your group.

Joel listens with half an ear, silent but not uninterested. When the last of his clothes are hung outside the window (where they’ll remain exiled until his next trip down below or until the smell fades), he turns to bathtub.

Shit.

For all their skill of stretching resources, their latest bar of soap had finally squeaked out its last gasp of bubbles yesterday. Their spare was still in its protective wrapping…somewhere decidedly not in the bathroom.

Joel sighs again.

The pile of spandex that was his underwear lies crumpled in the tub already. He’s motionless for a long moment, his ribs sore, his skin gritty.

“Hey,” he says, interrupting your musings.

“…Yeah?”

“I forgot to bring in the other soap. Would you mind…grabbin’ it for me.”

“Oh, sure.”

Silence stretches between you, as intangible and yet undeniable as the network connecting the mycelium. It’s there even as other sounds spring up- your quiet footsteps, the rustle of you rummaging through packaging. 

It thickens as you return to the bathroom door.

“Here.”

Your voice is closer than before. Just on the other side of a thin wooden barrier. No other sound breaches the silence connecting them, and Joel knows that it’s up to him to make the bridge.

The click of the doorknob is loud. Maybe silence is the wrong word for the thing connecting you, because it’s still present, undiminished despite sounds like that click, the whisper of the door opening, the beating of his heart.

The air on your side of the door is warmer without any windows open, and still laced with the scent of wildflowers. 

“Here you go.”

Your voice- it sounds like someone trying to sound normal, but failing in a way Joel doesn’t know how to describe. You feel it too.

Joel eases his body slightly further toward the gap, and reaches out his hand.

You try to keep your eyes on his face, or your hands. Try to keep your expression neutral, blandly amicable. But Joel sees the moment you fail. Catches your gaze flicker past the reach of his arm, to his very bare shoulders, chest, waist.

Joel hasn’t been a vain man in years. Decades. His reputation in the QZ is enough to keep most people from looking at him too long, anyway. But you….he’s seen you look at him. He’s let you look at him- in the silence of their shared apartment, on those rare, fraught ventures outside the walls. 

What you’re seeing now isn’t much more than what you’ve seen before. You’ve patched him up a time or two, and he you. All the same…

The look in your eyes strokes some dusty, long-forgotten part of Joel that wants to preen. 

It’s not a very overt look, to be fair. A tension in your jaw. A shadow of interest, a willingness to be interested, if it weren’t for something stopping you. Like you knew better than to entertain the notion that he would return your interest.

And Joel…feels bad about that.

What? 

Yes, that’s what that is, a twinge of regret- for being so closed-off, so unavailable, that you wouldn’t even consider that he’d be willing for a roll in the sheets. 

Your hands connect. Or rather, they both connect with the soap. The crude, QZ-produced chunk hovers between you, both of you holding onto it.

You swallow, your gaze finally tearing from the sliver of bare hip Joel had left visible beyond the edge of the door. Thick and strong as the rest of him, an intimate curve whose appearance sent your thoughts whirling like dandelion fluff. You force that careless smile back onto your face. 

Joel’s fingers are less than an inch from yours. He stares at them, their subtle, restless stroking motions against the waxy wrapping.

“Thanks,” Joel finally says.

“Sure.”

Something has shifted in your face. A cautious curiosity emerged, as if you recognize the presence of a new feeling seeping through the fracture in his thoughts; as if you’d felt it through the not-silence still connecting you.

Tentatively, you release the soap. Your invisible connection holds, unbroken despite that Joel now grips the soap alone.

He lifts it to his nose. His face wrinkles at its strange tang, too strong for it to truly be considered ‘unscented’.

“Maybe smellin’ nice ain’t so overrated after all.”

His grimace made you laugh; a grin breaks across your face, in a shade of teasing you’ve never used on Joel before.

“Well, you know where I’ll be.”

Joel watches you waltz back toward the living room, and breathes in the scent of wildflowers.

💕💕💕

[night-dark-woods]

5, 7, 15 for the fic asks!!

thank you!!! this got extremely long.

5. What’s a fic idea you’ve had that you will never write?

oooh hm. idk about Never, but ive been rotating the idea of Chalco and Aunor interacting bc the different ways they orbit around Ikora FASCINATE me, and the things that have been asked of them are very different. it would have to be epistolary i think and while i DO think i have enough primary sources to get their voices and values alright (letters from Aunor etc, and then WQCE my beloved), im not confident in my ability to do epistolary, & also i'd need something specific for them to argue about (that i also am interested enough in to litigate thru character POVs).

i've yet to decide if I'm accepting the TFS ending cutscene panel where Ikora is using strand, bc im suuuper ambivalent on Ikora using any darkness subclass- i need to re-listen to a bunch more post-campaign stuff to see how i feel about it, bc i know she talks to Mara a LOT in mission voicelines, and i think a lot of their past conflict has been over Mara's antipathy towards the Light & focus on balance over sheer faith in the Traveler (not religious Faith-faith, as we've talked abt before, bc i dont think Ikora sees the Traveler as a *god* like Zavala does- it's like gravity or thermodynamics its simply *true,* and can be explained. its not something that requires faith or sacrifice.)

but if i decide to accept that as canon then i think that would make a FASCINATING argument because Aunor has been Ikora's hunting dog for YEARS, cold-blooded killer putting down guardians who fall to darkness, and i think the sheer betrayal (from Aunor's POV) of Ikora changing her position on that would cause SUCH a crisis of faith for Aunor (what does that mean for what she's done in Ikora's name? what does that mean for how she can live with the weight of it?), and i think constrasting that with Chalco being Ikora's right-hand man (her silly rabbit / does she call you that / no) BUT without the blind loyalty that Petra has for Mara ("you are not the queen and i am NOT one of her cadre") could be sooo fun bc it wouldn't be a simple "Aunor mutiny Chalco loyal." i just dont know if Actually Writing it will provide more enrichment for me than just rotating the concept in my head.

that got long!!! and also ive partially convinced myself to work on it eventually lol.

anyway. that's the main one that i can think of, that isnt a "this scenario sounds hot BUT i dont want to write it bc there isnt enough character work to make the logistical nightmare of writing porn worth it" LMFAO

7. How many ideas for fics do you have right now?

5-ish?

- Elsie&Amanda (nicknamed "horsegirl movie but its a robot with dysphoria") where Elsie needs help fixing some part of her body and she can't do it by herself for some reason and then has to deal with the fact that Amanda regards her body with a simple honest appreciation that Elsie will NEVER feel for herself bc of when and how she became an exo!!! her own mother calls her body a "walking lazaretto" and she watched her father die horribly for this technology!!! god!!!

- Ikora's fight with Madhir & how she let him eat her ability to want anything. god. Ikora Rey woman that you are. also inspired by the way the demon works in dunmeshi bc i think the Ahamkara should work more like that. fuck monkey's paw genie trick wishes, getting exactly what you wished for and in doing so losing part of Who You Are is so much better. the Ahamkara aren't evil tricksters they are PREDATORS they are the very tippy top of the food chain and as dunmeshi says. to eat is the sole privilege of the living. there is no moral weight to that no matter how violent and that makes the violence of it far more interesting!!!

- somewhere between 3 and 5 high-concept porn fics, 2 at WIP stage and several that may or may not get written, all Petra-centric bc i (and Jackie) love to put that dyke in situations (all have Mara/Petra/Sjur as a given established relationship, the two WIPs are focused on Mara/Petra and Petra/Sjur & the ones that may just stay as ideas have bonus Petra/Amrita(/other corsairs) & Petra(/Sjur)/Amanda)

15. How do you come up with titles for your fics/chapters?

song lyrics mostly!!! often the one i was listening to a lot while writing/thinking about it, or one that makes me feel like that post thats like "song that reminds me of my favorite character comes on and i make the most unwell expression known to man."

the problem is i want the vibe of the whole song to mostly fit which means i've recently become aware that i nearly exclusively listen to sad music, apparently, bc i could not find a Single Song i like that fit the very fluffy/conflict-free Amanda/Sloane fic i wrote recently, so instead its both a line from the fic and a bit of a pun on the content lol: follow-through (impact play)

[saiiboat]

i’d love to hear about your fuga sailing stuff \o/

HII ^_^ awesome. ok. so atm i have one silly racing au that i rotate in my head and one fic in the works which takes place directly after fuga when guaxinim, pac, and mike leave the island together on the boat. this one is heavy on the hurt and lighter on the comfort and is essentially just pac on one massive spiral now that he's starting to process everything that happened in prison and the island. lots of pac feeling guilty about cell's perceived suicide and struggling with his anger at mike for getting them into this mess. he's very much an emotional wreck LOL. hes been through so fucking much man. also going from being enclosed in a prison for a year and a half and then being out on open water and the crazy anxiety of being in such an open space is. well. its really getting to him. i'll leave some snippets of it under the cut 💪💪💪

the racing au is really just silly⛵💪💪🔥🔥🔥the nature of the sailing autism being that i always need to take some guys and throw them on a racing team, all of their insanities included.

when i talked about this au before i said that they sailed j22s but im upgrading them. they now sail Melges 20s. its official. ill put images under the cut. god. gorgeous boats.

the general idea is that JV and cell are two sailors looking for new members for their respective crews. felps is already on cell's crew and guaxinim sails with JV. probably at some point jv was on cell and felp's crew and now they have some kind of crazy beef. anyways. cell is just as weird and gross and intense as he is in fuga and he really wants pac and mike on his crew and having nothing to do with JV. obviously mike is skeeved out by the weird gross guy who looks maybe a bit too hungry sometimes and tries to get pac to join JV's crew with him. unfortunately pac is way too enamored with cell's negative rizz and cell proposes the idea to pac that tazercraft splits ways and mike can join JV's crew on his own. Mike is understandably upset at this but still ends up joining JV and guaxi's crew. the two boats have insane tension and pac is torn between pretending none of this happened at all and ignoring mike/sending worlds saddest eyes back to mike. mike is hurt and pissed off at pac and cell and felps and does his best to pretend that they dont exist at all while also needing to beat them in every regatta ever or he'll DIE because maybe if he wins against them enough times it'll prove something to pac. what will it prove? i dont think even he knows lol.

cell is actively trying to drive a wedge in between pac and mike and JV is doing the same thing on the other side. felps is purposely looking the other way during all of this and guaxinim is watching it all go down with some sick sense of fascination. definitely just hanging around to watch it happen like a long drawn out car crash.

cell in this au is especially fascinating to me. squeezing him like a stressball. he's ten ways fucked in the head and the reason why he started sailing in the first place is because his therapist told him to get a hobby and it was downhill from there. anyways cell tells his therapist about pac and the next time cell sees pac he walks up to him and says "my therapist says that we need to get coffee together and have normal interactions so i stop thinking about eating you" and pac just goes. oh! and its the hottest thing anyones ever said to him

obsessed with them, frankly

^^ sexual images fr

[belethlegwen]

You are so wonderful and I hope things smooth out for you sooner rather than later. Obviously you should prioritize yourself first (god knows we all have sooo much good fic of yours to reread), but it leads me to a question I’ve been too shy to ask 👉👈 how do you feel about recursive fic about your fics/characters? Would you be ok with us sharing it with you/others, crediting you for the creation of such good characters of course? I have serious Stranding/Rescue brainworms and it’s making me want to write drabble & fluff for the first time in a long time 💕 of course it’s fine if you’d be more comfortable with me not posting it — either way, thank you soooo much for sharing this lovely world & worldbuilding & all the characters within. I will be rotating them in my head for years no matter what 🙇

Hello and good morning! Or afternoon, I'm not sure. I'm drafting this answer over a late breakfast because I got a precious day of sleeping-in and I'm still thinking deeply about it.

Firstly: I want to hug you so tight (if you were down) because this is wildly sweet and flattering, thank you so so much for reaching out at all even just about the works, but the wishes that things smooth out are highly appreciated ;-; We're looking… solid? Right now? But there's still so much up in the air and hhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh I won't bore you with it, it's not the reason I'm drafting this out.

ABOUT RECURSIVE WORKS [very long, read under the cut, tl:dr summary at the end]:

I would love it. I would genuinely, honestly love it, with the caveats that you laid out that proper credit would be given (thank you so much you lovely beautiful soul), that it be clarified wherever it is shared that it's based on characters/settings/storylines of the current works, but truly importantly that it would clarify that the works are actively still being written at this time.

That's my biggest hesitation, if I'm being honest. The stories are both at this time unfinished (they are all unfinished, I am a creature with heavy need to process things through writing and, quelle surprise, I am never truly finished processing anything, new shit just needs to get processed, wheeeee) and being that they're unfinished, there's a chance that any recursive work could hit on a scene/plotpoint/moment that I've already got plotted out for the future. I'm not Neil Gaiman or anything, I'm not planning to make money off of this work, so it's not my concern that you or anyone else is gonna turn around and try to sue me for stealing something or whatever-- that's not the problem. I just don't want you or anyone to feel at that point that the effort you put into something was then copied and put in the main work or something.

It's an odd situation. The odds of it actually BEING a problem I know are astronomically low, but I didn't get to where I am today without chronically overthinking everything.

I love that you have a desire to create, and I do not know who you are-- I don't know if you already have projects and characters of your own and just want to branch out with something familiar-but-new, but I want to encourage you to use this energy and focus for writing all the same. If you can put it into your own works, hell yeah, but also: yes I would be flattered if you used my dorks and their silly little worlds. It's just the concern where I'm not finished with the stories yet. I just am, again, overthinking and overworrying, likely, but if I could stop doing those things then life would presumably be easier.

I would be absolutely down for like, experimental works I believe is the best term for what I'm looking for. Characters and stories based off of my works that are wholly new. Want to write a refracted AU about Melinda and Hank in Space? Fuck yeah, yes. Though I mentioned this to Zip and they immediately told me No, We're Doing That One and we laughed about it for a hot minute, so maybe not exactly those names hahaha

I guess another question here is, if you were to put in the effort and the focus and the pride of writing something based on my characters, of a scene you had in your head, and got through the beauty and pain of creation to get it down and then put it out there, how would you feel if something similar then happened in the main work? Not the same, not based on what you did, but that similarity still there and still noticeable at least to you. Like if someone had written (before I had posted them) something similar to Melanie being involved in a Naval battle, even though I have the receipts that that arc was written in November of 2022 and only finished posting in September 2023, I don't know how they would feel to still see that like, a similar idea had been there.

On one hand, personally, I love being in the G/t community and reading other people's works when I have the spoons and focus and time to do it, because I love that something as simple as "small person falls and big person catches them" permeates the ideas so often, and what that can mean to dozens of different creators. Refracting the same light through a diamond and watching the facets all scatter it differently, etc etc. It's beautiful. It makes me happy. But that's a personal thought, and I know how deep and personal writing can be. I know how much the process of creation can mean to the individual. I don't want you to go through that, to write something beautiful even if just for yourself, and then think in some possibility later that because I did something similar I was trying to do it 'better' or whatever. It's not the case, it's never the case.

So, after chatting about this with people I love in this community (I love you Zip and Kelly <3), I think the solution is: If you want to chat with me about the like, basic bare-bones of the ideas you might have just to give me a heads up, and I can let you know if it's something that'll be in the main works soon and if I'd rather you wait on something, or if I'd go 'oh fuck yeah, go ham', I would adore to chatter away with you about it all regardless. I'd love to chatter with you about writing in general! My characters, your characters, whatever. I'm down. Please feel free to hit me up and I'll get back to you whenever I can <3

Let me know what you think! Thank you so much for the sweet message and the ask!

Cheers,

~ Belle

[TL;DR]

When it comes to recursive works I'm interested and open to them provided they're not something major/heavy I'm planning to tackle too soon in the future canon, as the works are still being written and posted. I am always down to receive DMs about writing, and would prefer to get messages about the recursive fic ideas (as vague as you'd like them to be!) just so I can give a quick yes/no on if it's something I'd rather you wait on until I can get it out myself, or whathaveyou. I don't see this being a huge problem, and if you're good for chatting then I'm positive we'll have a good time with this <3

Writing recursive fics for my existing, in-progress works means agreeing to the caveats that credit be given to me and the existing works, and clarifying when posting that the fic is not canon and the works they're referencing/possibly based on are still in progress/being written. It also means accepting that there is a chance that things tackled in your fics may be similar to things that have not yet been posted for said works.

When it comes to experimental fiction based on my characters, settings, or plot: hell yeah go full 50 Shades if you want to. File the serial numbers off of it and/or write something New Enough. It's what I did to Jonathan Swift, please feel free to do it to me hahaha.

Shortest answer: Yes, just send me a quick message first <3

[binch-i-might-be]

oh god. i cant. like. i have so many thoughts in my head rn. i need to choose just one to rant to you about. but my god. know i have SO MANY

and no bc i am constantly thinking about how they have to hide. how theyre so fucking in love but nobody can ever know. how their love is so fucking pure and sweet and yet nobody can ever see it, but the unhappy arranged marriages are flaunted for the world to see.

yk whats on my mind constantly? how nobody came to their wedding. because they couldnt. it would be too dangerous. not even the people who know. because it was already so dangerous, even when it was just them and the river and the stars.

and the LINE. "you can share your life with the man you love without fear and thats a luxury i will never have" lives in my brain. just constantly. like my god. you pulled out ALL the stops in that fic. that line tore me APART. like okay. what if i just sobbed.

god. im just. im cradling them in my hands. these poor poor boys.

- 🐥

give them to me ....... send them ALL 🌀

dude it literally rips me apart. that's one reason I'm so obsessed with the reincarnation au, because finally finally finally they get to hold hands and kiss and be silly and young and in love. they're constantly in each other's arms, touching at every chance, to make up for the 45 years they had to hide

NOBODY CAME TO THEIR WEDDING! it was just them and it was so special but. they didn't even have an officiant. because no one would have married them :(

THANK YOU. I loved that line, I loved that John was the one who got to say it to Martha. he needed that. he deserved that.

actually you mentioning the wedding and Martha reminded me of a little bonus fic taking place during Green Eyes that's been rotting in my drafts for like two years now, I'm gonna put a lil snippet under a cut!

yeah. cradling them kissing them tucking them in nice and tight and protecting them :(((

“Alex, dear, I- would you mind telling me a bit about that wedding of yours?” she said, brushing her thumb over a chip in the smooth porcelain cradled between her hands.

She had asked George about it after Alexander had left last night, but he hadn’t been able to tell her anything, either. He had not been present for it; on some level, she had been glad, even if that was petty, perhaps.

It was just hard for her, sometimes, to realise Alex felt he could be open with his father while he so obviously treaded on eggshells around her, even giving a warning every time he was about to mention the man he wanted to share his life with.

To know George hadn’t been involved in that wedding was a bit of a consolation.

Alex snapped his head up and regarded her with wide eyes. “Really?” he said, and there it was again, that guarded expression, as though he expected her to launch into a lecture about sodomy and the fate of his immortal soul any minute now.

Martha ignored the dull pang in her chest that came every time she was reminded her sweet little boy distrusted her on some level now, and forced a smile. It felt stiff on her face, and she knew she had raised a very sharp young man, so she hid it behind her cup.

“Yes, really. Of course, I have attended some weddings in my time, but I do think yours might have been very… special.”

Alex huffed a soft laugh and cut his gaze away, his eyes finding the gently shining ring on his finger instead, and a blissful little smile conquered his features. “You could say that.”

Well, that distraction had worked quicker than she would have thought.

“So?” she prompted, careful, and nudged her knee against her son’s thigh.

“Um,” he said and slowly turned his cup between his fingers, an old habit he had picked up from George, who liked to absentmindedly rotate everything from wineglass to teacup when he was lost in thought. “What would you like to know?”

“Let’s start with something simple,” she said, and Alexander chuckled. “The date?”

“June sixth,” he responded at once, smiling softly to himself.

“Oh, a summer-wedding? That must have been nice," she said in an attempt to show him he had nothing to fear right now, that he could be honest and open with her as he was with his father. "Your father and I got married when he was on leave in January. The snow was beautiful. Awfully cold, though."

Her first wedding had been in autumn, but Martha tended not to dwell on that chapter these days.

Alex snorted a laugh and took a sip of his tea; he wasn't tense, and he didn't seem suspicious of her intentions anymore.

It was a start, she thought.

"It was… a little different from your wedding, I think," he said. His eyes were so soft and happy, not even a trace of his earlier tears in sight, and Martha wished she could understand it all. What drew her son to that boy, and what drew Laurens to her son, and how they fit.

It just seemed so odd to her.

"How so?" she prompted gently after a beat.

Alex flushed a bit at that, didn't meet her eye. "Well, it was… private. Just the two of us, out under a tree at midnight. The- the moon was full that night. Cloudless sky." He took a slow breath, and his smile slipped a little, gained an almost sad note. Martha shuffled closer and squeezed his arm. "We went down to the river and said our vows under a willow."

He turned back to her, his smile returning full force. "It was perfect. There's not a single thing I would have changed."

Martha hummed, thoughtful. She couldn't help but wonder about the stricken look that had flickered across his features just now.

"You mean that, love?" she said, and Alex nodded, let his eyes slip back down to the ring he twisted around his finger–Martha had to bite back a fond smile at that gesture, something she herself had done for over twenty years now. Perhaps Alex hadn't only picked up his habits from his father, after all.

"What was that frown about, then?"

[fluffypotatey]

any tips and tricks for getting into the writing zone?

ok so i have 2 methods and they depend on what i'm writing on: story writing and essay writing (waring: this is a mini-ramble)

with essay writing,

get mad, get super fucking mad, write that shit with spite flowing in your veins. even when i'm writing essays and stories i enjoy, i drag my feet.

i whine and complain like a toddler in my head because despite this topic being one i enjoy, putting my excited tones and rambling into coherent words always tends to feel like i'm butchering that (which is why academic papers should simply let me swear in them and use the 1st pov bc it is sO easy and my thoughts flow a lot better but noooOOOOoooooOOOOOooooo, i have to be formal and proper and-)

also, outlining. fucking godsend with essays. it's why a lot of my longer essays have headings bc i use them to outline and keep my thought on one line of thought bc i have a rambling issue (which is then easily solved with parentheses, my beloved)

with story writing (notice how this is basically a heading? good job! you've found my mini outline for this reply! have a cookie 🍪)

i find that jotting down that scene that is nagging at your brain immediately is super helpful. and do it even if you're now writing out of order. pro-tip: writing out of order is THE best, endorphins be going crazy bc you're actually not fighting with your brain with the story but writing alongside your brain-map.

personally, i find it very difficult outlining a story (how contrary) because sometimes my mind changes ideas or switches the order of scenes, and it is exhausting trying to keep up with all of that in your outline. but i guess, my "outline" with stories is simply me jotting down a very quick summary of the plot that invaded my mind in one document, never touching it again, but staying true to it because i wrote it down. therefore, it exists no longer in the recesses of mind but it a physical statement/promise to complete.

also (this advice goes for both story and essays) it is ok to take a break, step back, and not look at your writing for some hours, days, weeks, months, years--fucking whenever.

my midterm essay? a fucking nightmare. loved the topic, would write something similar about it for fun, but the reason it took me so long to complete (and why i dragged my feet) was because of the "short" timeline i had to complete it. i felt like i was on a time crunch and that led to me procrastinating, stressing over it, and taking my grand old time researching for it. however, when i was able to work on it? i allowed myself to simply do as much as i could. if i was unable to look at that stupid document, i didn't look at it. if my mind had a really good thought or example for the topic rotating in my head? immediate sit down and get that thought onto the paper. it must exist.

i have fics sitting in my folders that have been unfinished in so long, but i still consider them as wips because (and here’s another subpart-advice) i tend to work on them when i am unable to touch my current work. to be frank, working on something else helps keep you in the writing zone even if you cannot stand to look at the blank/unfinished work you wanted to complete originally. when i was incapable of writing for the Monkie Destiny Challenge, i switched to working on writing and editing my teen wolf fic (a fic i had not looked at since July) because while i still had that itch to write, something was blocking me from completing the prompts. and when i switched fics, getting into the zone was a lot easier.

so, to recap:

when jumpstarting the writing zone for writing an essay, you get passionate (can be read as mad/spiteful), and outline your thought process of the essay with headings to keep the writing flow flowing (the headings do not need to stay in the final product but they are good to have in the draft) .

when jumpstarting story writing, write! that! shit! down!!!! chronological order doesn't mean shit when you're in the planning/writing phase. your readers don't have to know that you wrote/planned a character's death before writing/planning out the beginning. they just read it in the order you publish it in!

to keep the writing zone stable and in working condition, TAKE THOSE BREAKS BOO! who cares about your personal deadlines???? if you feel exhausted before opening up a doc, then take that break, babygirl. again, your reader(s) will not need to know (nor do they need to know) how long it took you to get your writing piece done. hell, if you still feel the itch to write but the thing you wanna do is not working, then work on something else you haven't touched in a while because that itch WILL get its scratch somewhere, so help me god.

so yeah, i hope this was helpful, anon (and coherent jfc there better not be a plethora of typos T^T). happy writing, and may your weekend be a healthy dose of eventful!