#I thought this would be maybe 1000 words but it turned into quite the fic

[featherandferns]

risk : where are they now?

jj maybank x kook!fem!reader

content warnings: mentions of sex and drugs

word count: 900

read risk | Thank you so so much for 1000 followers!!! Since starting this blog in May of 2023, I have written so many characters and storylines. I get so many lovely anon messages telling me about their favourite universes and wondering what happens next after my fics have ended. So, I thought to celebrate 1000 followers, I’d indulge. Here’s the (current) where are they now for all of my fics so far…

There’s a pretty smile on your glossy skin when JJ squints his eyes open. 

“Quit it!” 

“Just wanna look at you,” he mumbles with a dopey smile, closing his eyes once more. 

You laugh quietly and JJ can imagine you shaking your head or rolling your eyes. It makes his smile grow. The cool, damp feeling of clay being smeared across his cheek has him nearly flinching. It’s worth it, though, to feel you rub it in with the pads of your fingers. The tips of your acrylic nails barely scratch the surface of his skin. You wipe the facemask under his eyes and around his temple, and paint it along his cheeks and chin. 

“Is it stinging?” you check. 

“No,” he hums. 

There’s rustling as you wipe your hands clean on an Egyptian cotton towel before digging about in your make-up bag. JJ is subjected to lip scrub, gel-cooler pads on the eyes, and even eyelash and eyebrow serum. He takes it willingly, secretly enjoying how doting you are on him. Besides, his skin will probably be translucent by tomorrow with how thorough your skincare routine is. 

A warm, wet washcloth is used to wipe his skin clear. JJ’s then treated with toner and moisturiser and facial spray and lip balm. 

“Done,” you brightly announce. 

Sighing, JJ opens his eyes and sits up onto his elbows. For the past hour, he’d gladly sunk into your mountain of throw pillows. Every joint and bone creaks awake as he moves. A mirror is held out before him. He pulls a face, impressed by the glow of his skin. 

“Feels nice, right?” you say as JJ runs his fingers along his jaw, admiring your handy-work. 

“I’ll say,” he grins.

His hands plant on your hips and he tugs you toward him. Giggling, the mirror flops onto the plushy comforter and you gladly fall into his hold. Your lips slot against his, the combination of oils, scrubs and balms tasting sweet and tangy. Pulling away for breath, JJ’s hooded eyes flit between your damp lips and shining eyes. A boyish, telling smirk grows. 

 “What’d you say I give you a facial too, huh?”

“You’re gross,” you reply with a roll of your eyes. He sniggers and gladly lets you silence him with your mouth. He sinks into your kisses like he sinks into your bed. 

Fingertips teasing at your skin under his shirt, you sigh contently against his lips. The fire simmers out into a warm burn and you slowly ease away. JJ is only half joking when he protests as you clamber off his lap. Lounging on your bed, he watches you wander over to the television set at the foot of it. As you lean down to turn it on by the socket, JJ’s t-shirt that you wear rides up. It reveals the dainty tattoo you had him stick-and-poke into you a couple of weeks ago. P4L. It’s downright sexy to see it marked permanently into your skin.

When JJ had completed the tattoo for you, you’d also joked that maybe he should mark his name there too. That way the girls at keggers and house parties would know to keep their hands off him. You see, most of the fellow Pogue-Cut girls who had once flirted and fucked JJ didn’t take well to you being his girlfriend. They thought his head might be turned and so they tried their luck with trying to ‘steal him back’. JJ didn’t entertain it for a second, but your possessive side showed when it happened, and he shamelessly loved that side. You’d spend the rest of the party coiled around him like a viper and the hours of the night reminding him why he was so smitten. A tattoo of his name felt a risky play but love-bites were a perfect substitute. 

Sauntering back over to the bed, remote in hand, you snuggle up beside him. You click on Gossip Girl. JJ had confessed to you one night, completely hammered, that he was obsessed with your guilty pleasure show. Since then, you watch and re-watch the series together nearly every night. 

It was baffling to everyone how easily JJ had fit into your world, and you into his. It baffled the two of you as well. His room was now littered with your belongings. They intermixed strangely well with his surfer-boy decor: a Fenty make-up kit stacked up on his desk; Clinique skincare claiming an entire shelf in the bathroom cabinet; designer panties carelessly tucked into his drawers. Your bedroom was the same, though perhaps more secretive considering JJ still had yet to meet your parents. Neither of you were stupid: they had probably already heard from others on the island that you’d had your head turned by a Pogue. But right now, you liked the lack of prying parental opinions. That to say, JJ’s smoke kit was hidden in your bottom drawer under several Vogue magazines and his frayed boxers in a Channel shoe box.

Pressing a kiss to your forehead, the two of you settle into the show. 

“Hey, JayJ?” you mumble, eyes fixated on the screen. 

“Yeah?”

“I love you.”

His heart breathes. Swallowing away the trickle of nerves that your three words always bring, JJ plants another kiss to your skin. Then, he squeezes your thigh three distinct times. You cuddle closer to him with that. It was your own secret language. Three times for three words. 

[littlefireball]

May I request a Yunho x Yeosang fic? Where all of Ateez is Poly but Yeosang hasn't gotten intimate with anyone yet. But when yunho comes out of a shower he gets really hot and bothered and he doesn't know why. (He's a virgin) He talks to Yunho and Yunho explains to him what's going on. And he asked to know what it feels like to be fucked and Yunho shows him while the rest of ATEEZ watch?

🐈‍⬛

First time to write BxB ahhh hope you like it

sorry for the slow update cuz i hv no inspiration to write TT

i quite like 'Fake God' setting so i added it to this fic

maybe i'm gonna make a series haha btw i find that 99% of requests are about yeosang 😂(it doesn't mean that i don't like him, just wonder why 🤣🤣 where are the other members ㅋㅋㅋㅋ）

Yunsang|BxB|Eros paidikos(M) ft. OT6

© Pinterest

Fake God Yunho x Human Attendant Yeosang ft.OT6 Fake Gods Warning: Smut|Poly AU|BxB|Unprotected sex|Make out|Public sex|Pool sex|Huge age gap (OT7 are 1000+ and yeosang is 20+) Word count: 2K 

Becoming an attendant of the gods was considered the ultimate honor for a human being. Whenever a deity descended to earth, people would eagerly showcase their loyalty and talents in hopes of securing a place in heaven. They reveled in the adoration of humans, effortlessly casting spells to captivate them. To these beings, humans were mere playthings for their amusement or desire.

Yet, this did not stop humans from desiring to get close to those Gods, or I should say, those Fake Gods.

Becoming a servant was no simple task; one must first earn their favor. However, there was one man who effortlessly captured the hearts of the gods. No tribute or money was required. Simply being in their presence was enough to inspire them to offer everything for him. His appearance was akin to a masterpiece sculpted by the divine, drawing others to him like moths to a flame.

"Yeosang, bring us the wine," Yunho instructed. "Yes, master," Yeosang replied with a simple salute before turning to retrieve the wine. Unbeknownst to him, the seven men observing him were captivated by his beauty. Dressed in a white gauze garment that left little to the imagination, Yeosang's exposed chest, arms, and legs only added to his allure.

"He is truly remarkable, isn't he? I never thought I would use such a word to describe a man," Yunho admitted, his voice betraying a hint of desire. "Did you fuck him?" Jongho inquired, his posture shifting slightly as he leaned against the pool's edge.

"No," Yunho shook his head. "But I will not impose myself on him," he added. "Oh, really? I believe you have already made him your cum pocket," San remarked with a chuckle, resting his head on Seonghwa's chest. "I want him to come to me willingly. I am confident it will not be long before he does," Yunho replied.

“Why are you so certain?” Wooyoung interjected, moving closer to Yunho. “Maybe you just show him your big dick and he will ask you to fuck him badly.” “What?Do you want me to fuck you now?” Yunho lifted wooyoung's chin with his finger, hiding his surging lust under his cold face.

“Then fuck me,” With a smooth motion, Yunho flipped wooyoung over, pinning him under his big frame and thrusted into his hole with one go. "Oh fuck! You're so big!” Wooyoung moaned loud enough for yeosang to hear. He was already used to it as he watched them make love a thousand times, not to mention he could alway hear their moaning the whole day.

Yeosang carefully carried the tray back to the bath where they were gathered. What was once a sacred space now felt tainted by debauchery. Wooyoung was riding Yunho, Mingi was making out with Hongjoong, and Jongho was fucking Seonghwa as if the last day of the Earth.

The scene in the pool left onlookers speechless upon first sight. Yeosang was no exception, though he was tempted to join in despite his shyness. Deep down, he longed to experience the sensation of being desired.

The water in the pool rippled with their movements, creating a symphony of splashes against the sides. Moans and hesitant kisses filled the air, blending with the heady scent of desire to create an intensely erotic atmosphere.

"Master, your wine," Yeosang said as he approached Yunho, offering him the glass with a steady hand. As Yunho took a sip, Wooyoung's sudden rough movements caused him to choke on the wine. “Oh…mas─"

“Fuck you, wooyoung!” “Don't be mad~” Gripping wooyoung's waist hard enough to leave a red mark, Yunho fucked him at an inhuman pace. “Fuck!Fuck!Fuck!Slow down!” “Who told you to act like a brat?" With a loud moan, both of them reached the climax and the white liquid floated on water.

“I gotta take a shower. Yeosang, go bring me some new clothes.” Yunho stood up from the bath, wrapping a towel on his waist. But that didn't stop him from seeing his big cock. “Yes, master.” Swallowed with a ball of saliva, Yeosang tried his best to hide his nervousness before turning to get some clothes.

“Hey, Yunho, what I said is true.” Wooyoung bent over the edge of the pool, tilting his head with an evil smirk.

“And remember what I said? It won't take too long for him to ask me.” Yunho winked before taking a quick bath.

—---

Yeosang's body suddenly felt ablaze, as if a fire was consuming him from within. His flushed face only intensified the heat that coursed through him. The recent scene played on a loop in his mind, stirring up desires he had long suppressed.

Holding Yunho's garment in his hand, Yeosang found himself drawn closer, unable to resist the urge to inhale deeply, savoring the scent that was uniquely Yunho's. The action only served to heighten his panic, causing his heart to race as if it might burst from his chest.

"No… I have to go back now…What's wrong with me?" Yeosang willed himself to calm down, the chill of the wind offering a slight reprieve from the feverish sensations that gripped him.

Yet, fate seemed determined to play him as the next sight pushed him to the brink of losing all restraint.

"Master, your attire." Yunho had just stepped out of the bath, water droplets cascading from his hair onto his broad shoulders, trickling down the contours of his sculpted abdomen… He was big,no,huge. Yeosang couldn't bear to meet Yunho's gaze, immediately averting his eyes from the mesmerizing sight before him.

"Thanks, my doll.” He deliberately emphasized the last sentence, and his knuckled fingers traced Yeosang's arm, making him tremble. But Yunho took his hand back and didn't grab the clothes, making Yeosang whimpered softly because of lost touch. "Shouldn't you serve me change my clothes?” Yunho remarked, raising an eyebrow at Yeosang. “Ye…yes, I apologize.”

Yeosang's hands were shaking like a leaf when he touched Yunho's arm, making him imagine how it felt in his embrace, just like what Yunho did to Wooyoung a moment ago.

“Are you hot? Your face is so red, just like the apple Jongho crushes every day." Yunho's concerned voice and laugh snapped Yeosang to reality, making Yeosang slightly jump.

“Just…a little bit…”

“But heaven is not that hot, here is not hell.” Yunho lifted Yeosang's chin with his big hand, brushing his moist lips while speaking softly, “You know why, Yeosang?”

“Why…?” Yeosang once swallowed nervously, finding himself unable to move away from Yunho's captivating gaze.

“Because you want me so badly.” Yunho stepped close enough to brush yeosang's forehead with his lips. “It's called heat, doll.”

“It's just human nature, not a big deal. And of course, we, Gods, have desire too.” Yunho continuted, luring Yeosang to ask the question he wanted to hear. “Sometimes, we just have to do something and the heat would cool down.”

“Is it being fucked?” Yunho's face lighted up as he finally heard what he desired, a smile tugging at the corners of his lips. “Yes, you're right, darling.”

“How…how does it feel…? Is…is it hurt?” Yeosang stammered, realizing Yunho's cock sunk between his thighs and rubbed against his sensitive skin.

“No, of course no. It feels so good. Do you want it? Tell me.” “Yes, please. Mas─" Before his words fully came out from his mouth, Yunho attacked his lips without a second thought. They kissed each other hungrily without care. Yunho took the lead, parting yeosang's lips and intertwining with his tongue. Yeosang let out a hem as Yunho kissed him aggressively, leaving him breathless in this heavy make out.

“Gotta fuck you now,” Leaving from each other's lips, Yunho wrapped Yeosang's legs around his waist and knelt down before placing him down on the ground. “Oh god!” Yeosang let out a soft gasp as Yunho entered him, drawing the attention of those around them. Yunho started at a slow pace to make Yeosang adjust to the sensation of being penetrated. After all, it was his first time. The feeling was a mix of strange and thrilling; Yunho pushed deep, almost pushing past his limits. Yet, Yeosang loved it so much. Each thrust gave him a wave of numbness and pleasure.

Murmuring and swearing fled both of their lips, Yeosang threw his head against the ground and closed his eyes, throwing himself into this endless bliss. “Fuck, you're amazing!” Yunho murmured, picking up the pace as Yeosang's long throaty moan urged Yunho to ruin him, have him completely. “Oh gosh-!!My god!! Ah~” Yeosang let out a choppy moan to make everyone gasp. How beautiful the melody was.

Without warning, Yunho pulled out and flipped Yeosang over, pressing him against before thrusting hard from behind. Yeosang's hips were in the air, allowing Yunho to go deeper in this new position. “Fuck!” Yunho groaned, his breath coming in heavy pants. His sanity was about to fade away as Yeosang kept sucking him in;the tightness and the wetness drove him crazy. He drew his hips back, and then slammed himself back in, pumping into his sensitive area.

“Keep your eyes open, Sang.” Yunho commanded, and Yeosang slowly opened his eyes to find that all of their gaze lingered on him. They couldn't tear their eyes away from the sight of Yunho entering him, and his face a mix of pleasure and desire. The wet strands of hair clung to Yeosang's face, swaying with each movement; his ass bounced each time Yunho rolled his hips into him. All of them couldn't lie; their lust was palpable, impossible to ignore.

“Wanna be fucked by them? Huh?Tell me, you slut.” Yunho slapped his ass, making Yeosang groan at the pain. Yet, he wanted more.“See?They all wanted you, wanted to sink their fat cock into your pink hole.” Yunho leaned down to whisper in his ears, pressing his chest against his back. “Oh please, pretty please.” He didn't know what he was begging for, but only felt something tightening in his stomach.

“Need to cum?” Feeling Yunho's big hand trails down to his erection, Yeosang moaned loudly as the cold touch sent him numbness. “Please, please.” Yunho jerked him off at a fast pace, all the heat rushed to his tip. The friction pushed him to the edge of climax, Yeosang spread his legs wider to make Yunho sinking deep. “Master…master…” Yunho fucked him faster and faster and the sound of skin slapping echoed through the room. Everything was overwhelming but perfect at the same time. Yeosang was on cloud nine, totally lost in the lust.

“Cum.” “Gosh!!” Yunho's command was like a trigger, making Yeosang cum immediately. “Good boy.” Yunho also came with a loud moan, filling Yeosang with all his seeds, even dripping on the ground. Huffed and puffed, Yeosang collapsed on the ground and couldn't even sit up straight.

“You're too rough, yunho.” Wooyuoung said while walking to Yeosang's side. “You should treat him softly," Patting his head, Wooyoung left a peck on Yeosang's lips, making Yeosang's eyes shut open in surprise. “Don't be afraid, we will treat you well.” “Don't break him.” Yunho smirked. Without waiting for Yeosang's response, he was picked up by someone effortlessly.

“We're gonna have something fun.” A gummy smile broke out on Jongho's face. Oh he looked so cute. But Yeosang soon denied this thought as Jongho was definitely not cute on the bed.

What Yeosang could remember after that was his clothes were literally ripped off, all the men fucked him at least twice, and he had came countless times until he couldn't anymore.

And, since then, Gods have not come to the world again. The blessedness of humans? They never care.

“Oh pretty, pretty, You want our cock so badly, do you?”

“Yes, please.”

What they cared about was only lust.

[halfagone]

I just reread Off With the Demon's Head and now I've gotta ask you a few things.

How does Talia feel now, knowing she gave birth to the person she's been competing with for her father's attention and affection with and losing? If I'm not misinterpreting how she thinks of her father based on that scene describing Ra's visiting Danny and Athanasia but not Damian.

With pending plans in mind for this, is Ra's going to get as creepy here as you have planned in Luthor's Ascent? Or is he too blinded by affection for Boy/Wild Child that he can't see the potential power that would be at his fingertips if he could get his claws back into Danny?

When Danny entered his core, you wrote that someone else noticed what had happened. With additional confirmation that the Cores can still communicate and Pariah has been Cored as well, is Pariah just sending off a whole bunch of alarm vibes from somewhere in Clockwork's junk drawer?

Hope you had a fun reread!

I obviously won't share this all with detail but since it might take some more time before I get to write and post that next update, I might as well share some of the fun. lol

[Possible Spoilers If You'd Like to Avoid <333]

Prior to this, Ra's has not once breathed a word about Danny to anyone. He is Ra's' most ardent secret and, quite possibly, glaring weakness. However, with this new tidbit of information Talia can probably start connecting the dots and realize just how significantly Danny's relationship and subsequent disappearance had on her entire life. She had been in a competition all this time and she didn't even know her true opponent.

One of the things I love about this fic is just how damn complicated everything is and Talia is no different. She wouldn't resent Danny or hate the fact she had birthed her competition. But she would resent that her father could only hold affection for one person at a time and would never share it. After all, before this she just thought Ra's was a hardass that had impossible standards. Which is still partially true but no matter how close she met or surpassed those standards she would never be Danny. It was never that she wasn't good enough, it's just that her father wanted someone else and that fucking sucks.

Are the Daddy Issues inherited in Off With [the Demon's] Head? Yes. Yes there are. Unintentionally!

So Ra's will be creepy but in a different sort of way. Ra's in LL's Ascent is more like objectification kinda creepy whereas Ra's in OWtD'sH is more like you are mine and we are one and you can never walk away from me- So like. Obsessive. Possessive. Maybe some mild abandonment issues. Definitely some lingering grief there. But turn it from 100 to 1000.

This Inspired By fic that I wrote as a gift shows a glimpse into what that can look like as well. I am also quite partial to this Danny & Ra's fic I wrote which shows how damn charismatic Ra's can be, allowing him to spin the narrative to his advantage.

you are mine and we are one and you can never walk away from me-

Pay careful attention to this line. Whereas in LL's Ascent Ra's views Danny as more of a tool to further his goals, in OWtD'sH Ra's sees Danny as an extension of himself and therefore should remained fixated at his side where he belongs. Any power Danny wields would naturally be used to his advantage, Danny's power -> his power.

(Can I just say I love and appreciate how many details you noticed? Because I do love and appreciate it <333)

I can't give too much away about Pariah just yet, despite how much it makes me giggle with unfiltered, evil author glee, but all the alarms are going off and people are gonna be running around like headless chickens.

I hope this has fed the brain worms until the next update. >:3 Thanks for the Ask!

[acaplaya-musings]

Prompt by @fallingblueroses: "We needed the money, Kath"

Loosely inspired by the zombie apocalypse mini-fics by @willows-adventures-in-words (and totally unconnected to my own fic that I wrote based off of VoicePlay's Thriller video)

Yeah so like most people probably, my brain initially thought of doing something silly/funny/random for this prompt, but that's not really a style I'm super great at writing imo - I overthink things and care too much about details. But then I was like "hang on, there's no rule saying this has to be comedic! I can do something totally different!" And then a evil grin spread across my face >:)

And yeah this is just over 2000 words because the concept of a story under 1000 words is foreign to me lol rip

It had been about roughly four weeks since the whole ‘Zombie Apocalypse Sickness’ thing had started sweeping across the country. Or maybe it hadn’t been quite that long, or maybe it’d been a little longer – it depended on who you asked. No one knew quite what to do about the infection victims; there was majority disapproval about putting them in hospital beds, not when a cure hadn’t yet been created, but any other method of restricting their movements was seen as inhumane by some, and just simply too risky by others. And so they were left to wander (or, in most cases, stagger).

Whatever was originally behind the “zombie outbreak” in the first place was also still unknown, but many feared that it was only a matter of time before the virus (or whatever it was) evolved and mutated, turning its victims more hostile and aggressive. However, not everyone shared the same concerns – the consensus amongst most companies was that so long as they still had uninfected employees, then their businesses would continue to operate, and the government agreed. It was one of the reasons why Geoff and Kathy were staying in their own house while many others had left – they were still expected to pay the bills, so they might as well continue to actually make use of the house while it was still safe enough. There was a contingency plan in place to use Pattycake Studios as a sort of ‘safety bunker’ if things got worse, but Kathy very much hoped it wouldn’t come to that.

Currently, it was nighttime, and Kathy drowsily reached an arm across to cuddle in closer to Geoff. But all she felt was thin air.

Kathy blinked her eyes open and turned on her bedside lamp. The other half of the bed was most definitely empty.

‘He’s probably just gone to the bathroom,’ she told herself, trying to stop herself from needlessly worrying too much. ‘I should just go back to sleep, and he’ll be back in bed before I know it.’

But still, Kathy couldn’t help but feel the need to check. It was at least somewhat irrational, but what with the whole looming threat of the zombie infection, and what was feared to have happened to… well, basically she would fall back asleep easier if she knew for certain where Geoff was.

Kathy grabbed a torch and slowly shuffled her way out of the bedroom and towards the bathroom. But the door was ajar, and there was no sign of Geoff. Kathy decided to check in William’s room, and William at least was still fast asleep in bed, but Geoff wasn’t there either.

She took a deep breath in and out, trying to calm herself as she felt her heartbeat increasing. ‘Okay, maybe he just went to grab a glass of water.’ But Geoff wasn’t in the kitchen, or the loungeroom, or any other place in the house.

Sitting down in the dark, Kathy held her head in her hands. How long had he been gone for without her realising it? She hadn’t seen any sort of note from him explaining his disappearance, but he wouldn’t have left without a good reason, right? She could try calling him, but she couldn’t remember whether she had actually seen Geoff’s phone still in the bedroom or not. And besides, surely Geoff would already be doing everything he could to get back home quickly – she had to be sure of that. But it was the potential ‘challenges’ he might be facing along the way that were the problem.

Kathy went back to the bedroom to go put on her hearing aids, then returned to the couch in the living room and lay down on it. There was nothing she could do right now but wait and hope, but she would stay here for now, so she would hopefully know immediately when Geoff arrived back home again.

Kathy must have drifted off at least for a short while, because all of a sudden she was hearing sounds of a car engine outside, specifically their van, pulling into the driveway. ‘Please tell me that that’s Geoff!’

She lay still on the couch, only barely peeking towards the doorway. She closed her eyes when she heard the sounds of the front door being unlocked. There was footsteps, and a light was briefly swept across her face. Then Geoff sucked in a breath and made an “ah” sound, likely having realized that his disappearance hadn’t gone unnoticed. He flicked on the ceiling light, and then bent down and placed a hand on Kathy’s shoulder.

“Kath?” said Geoff softly.

Kathy opened her eyes and looked up at him. “Geoff!” she said. Then in one quick movement, she got up from the couch and flung her arms around him. “Oh Geoff, I was so worried, where were you?” She pulled away to look at him properly. He was wearing a plain black hoodie, long black jeans, and black boots, and there was a black backpack next to his feet. “Seriously, Geoff, where did you go?” Kathy asked.

Geoff looked away uncertainly, and was quiet for a couple of moments before responding.

“I was helping us get more resources,” he said. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to worry you.”

“Resources?” replied Kathy, confused. “What do you mean? What could you even get at this time of ni-”

Kathy cut herself off as the pieces fell into place in her mind. The black clothing, the backpack, Geoff sneaking off in the dead of night without so much as a written note, the vagueness of his response.

“Geoff, please tell me you didn’t do what I think you did.”

Geoff held up his hands. “I swear it’s not as awful as you might be thinking, probably.”

Kathy sat back down on the couch. “You broke into somewhere, didn’t you?” she said, feeling like she already knew the answer.

Geoff sat down next to her. “I guess you could say that, yes,” he replied, hanging his head. “But look, I swear we didn’t cause any property damage, and nobody got hurt.”

“We? So the others were with you, then?”

“Layne and Eli, yes.” Geoff lifted his head and looked at Kathy. “Please don’t be mad at them, though. This was my idea, and my plan; they only mostly went along with it because they would’ve been worried for my safety if I did it alone.”

Kathy leaned up against Geoff’s shoulder, and he put his arm around her in an almost-automatic response. “Well you might as well tell me what happened, and what exactly you’ve come home with,” she said.

Geoff took a deep breath in and out. “You know that old cinema a couple blocks away from Oviedo Mall?” he asked.

Kathy raised an eyebrow. “Yeah, kinda?” she replied. “Didn’t that place get abandoned a few days ago after the last of its workers got infected?”

Geoff nodded, but otherwise gave no response.

“Let me guess, you went for the cash registers, didn’t you?” Kathy asked.

“We need the money, Kath, you know we do,” Geoff replied, looking at her with a pleading expression.

Geoff wasn’t entirely wrong – almost all stores had switched to only accepting cash since the whole zombie plague thing had become an issue, and fully-functioning ATMs had become an extreme rarity. It was a small blessing, at least, that Geoff and Kathy’s account was already set up to automatically pay bills as soon as they came in, but when it came to food, toiletries, gas, and other regular expenses, all they had to rely on was the money in their wallets and purses.

And Geoff… He hadn’t been quite himself for about a week now, not since Cesar’s disappearance. Cesar had said he was going to take a quick trip to see Omar to make sure he was okay, and that he was only going to be a day or two at the most. But that was the last time anyone saw him or heard from him, and nobody had been able to get in contact with Omar either. Of course the rest of VoicePlay couldn’t help but be seriously worried about their missing friend, but Geoff had taken it especially hard. Something in him had shifted – he had become quieter and more closed off, while at the same time seemingly becoming more determined to do whatever it took to keep the rest of his loved ones alive and safe. A few weeks ago, Geoff would have never even considered robbing somewhere, not even at his most desperate. But now, Kathy couldn’t even feel all that surprised about it.

“Okay, I’m not saying I’m in any way okay with this, but did you end up getting anything?” Kathy asked.

Geoff nodded again, and gently shifted away from Kathy so he could reach towards his backpack. He opened it and pulled out a small clear plastic bag with an assortment of coins and notes inside it. “This should hopefully last us a few weeks,” he said, “maybe even a month if we’re lucky, Layne and Eli took some as well; I figured it was only fair.”

“So the cinema really was totally abandoned?” Kathy asked.

Geoff pulled a face and looked away. “Well… for the most part, yes,” he replied.

“Geoff, what happened?”

“It wasn’t really anything that bad, no police or anything like that, just some young guy. Could’ve been a cleaner, could’ve been a security worker, or could’ve just been someone trying to use the place as a hideout, but whoever he was, he must have heard us moving around.”

“Were you spotted?” Kathy asked.

“No, but it was a close call,” Geoff replied.

He explained how he and Layne had dashed over to hide behind a large movie standee, while Eli had simply ducked behind one of the concession counters. Geoff peeked out from behind the cardboard display, and saw the unknown man sweeping his torch around. Then he realized in a panic that the man was walking towards where Eli was hiding, and so Geoff did the first thing that came to his mind: he created a distraction.

“A distraction?” asked Kathy. “What kind of distraction?”

“It might just be easier if I demonstrate,” Geoff replied. He closed his eyes and began to make a low growling sound, almost in subharmonic territory, if not slipping in and out of it.

“Ah, I see. Trying to scare him off then, were you?” Kathy replied, unable to stop the corners of her mouth from pulling upwards.

“Yeah, pretty much,” Geoff replied with a small grin (a rare sight these days).

Layne, as always, had been quick to catch onto Geoff’s line of thinking, and had joined in with his own sorts of ‘zombie growls’. It had certainly been effective in getting the stranger to freeze in his tracks, but there was still no sign of him actually leaving anytime soon. So Geoff decided to take a small risk by taking the zombie impersonation a step further.

Slowly, Geoff moved out from behind the standee. He had pulled his hood up and tried to cover his face with his hair as much as he could, so to avoid it being obvious that he wasn’t actually infected. He lurched towards the young man, limply raising up one arm in his direction, while continuing the growl sounds.

“But the zombified people aren’t actually aggressive!” Kathy pointed out. “And they don’t typically growl, either.”

Geoff gave a half shrug. “Well there haven’t been any reports of aggressive zombies yet, but it’s bound to happen sooner or later, and someone’s gotta be the first to encounter a hostile zombie, right?” he replied. A small grin crept up on his face. “You could say the same thing about the growling,” he added.

Regardless, Geoff’s plan had worked, thankfully, and the young man had bolted in terror.

.

Kathy placed her hand over Geoff’s and looked at him solemnly.

“Geoff, if you’re ever going to do anything like this ever again, please tell me first, okay?” she said.

Geoff blinked at her in surprise. “Aren’t you going to tell me to never do something like this ever again?” he asked.

Kathy sighed. “Well of course I’d rather you didn’t, but I know how tough things are right now, and I’d rather I at least know where you are and what you’re doing, rather than having another night of waking and finding you completely gone because you’ve snuck off somewhere again.”

Geoff nodded. “Fair enough, I guess,” he replied.

With her free hand, Kathy reached up to Geoff’s face, stroking his cheek with her thumb. “I love you,” she said.

“I love you too, Kath.” The two of them leaned closer and connected with a soft, gentle kiss.

Geoff and Kathy were living in unpredictable times, but Kathy knew that so long as they still had each other, they were going to make it through.

[hotluncheddie]

20 Questions For Writers!

Tagged by @puppy-steve, @scoops-aboy86 and @steviewashere ty ty !!! :3

1. How many works do you have on AO3?

40!!!

2. What's your total AO3 word count

78,658 which is honestly insane to me - it still feels unbelievable when I write like 1000 words comfortably.

(For a long time writing was something I could do but had to do, never wanted to do or enjoyed. So, I never ever imagined it being my main hobby - I honestly get insecure that everything I write is so short, especially compared to how people seem to bang out 10,000w like it's nothing)

3. What fandoms do you write for?

Steddie!!!!! so Stranger Things

And I have dabbled in Fargo for Gator Tillman :) Pillow

4. What are your top five fics by kudos?

Tiny Green Shorts 

Seasons change, but people don't. 

Stimming

Wherever you go, thats where I am.

unmasking 

(Two old ones but the fact that both autistic Steve fic's are on there makes me SO happy!!)

5. Do you respond to comments?

Yesssssssss but sometimes I really don't know what to say other than 'thank you' - which feels lame, but I love comments so I always answer

6. What is the fic you wrote with the angstiest ending?

It's more of a drabble but maybe thats when boys kiss ? I wrote it with the idea of the end being hopeful, but I had a couple comments and it's very easy to read it in a more angsty way - basically if you read it with Eddie dying like canon, then it becomes pretty sad

7. What's the fic you wrote with the happiest ending?

uh - all of them

But gonna go with Softly just because the whole thing is super soft - ooey gooey horny daddy kink my kryptonite

8. Do you get hate on fics?

nah

One day I probably will however - my first cyber bully :]

9. Do you write smut? If so, what kind?

YA!! - all kinda - lots of freak kinks in this house - and a lot of love

I just think d/s is fun, you can play with so many kinks within the dynamic and its just cool and hot. And then you add established relationship on top, so like, that knowledge and love and like just being into stuff because your partner is - so good!

I explored a lot of kinks in my SubEddieWeek and definitely want to do more - need to write some sub Steve!

10. Do you write crossovers?

No but I do have notes for a Gator Tillman / Steddie fic so might write that at some point...

And have been dabbling with my lovely 🐶anon in some Gator Tillman / Kurt Kunkle ideas - as silly as that is lol - it's fun! - dunno if it'll ever turn into a fic though

11. Have you ever had a fic stolen?

Don't think so!

12. Have you ever had a fic translated?

Don't think so! But would not be against it!

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

Ye kinda!!! me and @scoops-aboy86 have our Office AU series :)

Oh and the Milk fic here on tumblr heheh - its a classic

14. What's your all-time favorite ship?

Steddie!!!!

15. What's a WIP you want to finish, but doubt you will?

Ugh my "Steve has known he’s bi for years and is more knowledgeable than Eddie. Eddie is queer in a kinda vague nebulous way and it stresses him out sometimes. Bruce Springsteen born in the USA album. Coming of age, dealing with change."

I love it and I do want to write more of it but it just doesn't have the sauce yet - haven't quite figured it all out. What's it's purpose you know? Or figured out how to use that album effectively for like, themes and stuff

16. What are your writing strengths?

Uh well, right in this moment NOTHING bc I feel EMO and I'm too TIRED to write ANYTHING...

But I am happy with the sentence structure in my autistic Steve fic's - I tried to use very short and very long sentences to help express his thought processes when he's in different emotional states, and think I did it, effectively ?

Also I sometimes write stuff only bc I think it's funny - idk if it's funny for anyone else but I guess it means I have a lot of variety in my content... and silliness... which is good... (?)

17. What are your writing weaknesses?

Never knowing how much information to give. Sometimes i like to keep is sparse to keep the vibe going, like the tension or emotion. But sometimes I think I miss out on key descriptions and added context without noticing. Loosing more information about place and sometimes key movement and descriptions of the characters. What I lack is ✨world building✨

18. Thoughts on writing dialogue in another language in fic?

I only speak little baby English so probably wouldn't do it personally - I have, like, nothing against it though?

19. First fandom you wrote for?

This one!!!!!

20. Favorite fic you've written?

hmmmmmm... I'm gonna go with three just because I wrote them all pretty recently and think they show some improvement, like I was able to express what i wanted in them. So;

Hug - Autistic Eddie my love - I like the pacing a the structure in this, I think I maybe do actually do some world building here, which gives nice context to this Eddie and where he is mentally in the moment of his meltdown.

Love in a safety pin - I think it's one of my favourite feedist kink fic's that I've written, just because I think it's a good mix of the kink and their developing relationship. Like it's not all just horny, there's plot and character development, along with being hot. Like, I think it does a good job of showing what the kink can be, because it maybe gets a bad rap. It's a lot of different things, and it's hot when its pleasurable for both parties, and it's still just people with the same emotions as any other kinks, still pining, still insecurity... ya idk :)

Bi Freak - I just really wanted to do a good degradation kink, like some straight masochism you know? And I think I did an okay job. Also this is a dom Steve that I think is very actually fitting for the character but I haven't really read before, so, I wanted to explore that too.

-

Not gonna tag bc I don't have the capacity too right now but i'm seriously not joking if you want to do this - here, you're tagged.

Tag me and I WILL shout in the comments about it

[probsnothawkeye]

Welp it's that time again! And by "that time" I mean the time where the grotto makes me so feral that I write 500-1000 word fics on my phone like a 15 year old wattpad girlie

This will happen again

This takes place after episode 7 with a silly little thought i had in my head about Matt's self mutilation from episode 4 :)

Matt remembered cutting off his finger; it was one of the clearest memories he had from the cave. The sharp pain as he severed the digit with a strength and conviction he didn't know he had, the warmth of the blood trailing down his arm, the soft thud it made on the ground when it landed. He remembered it all.

Which is why he knew for sure it had been the pinky he had cut off.

It was the easiest to access, the best shot of removing the finger without causing any other injuries or losses. A clean swipe through the smallest digit on his hand, the memory of childhood promises made with it floating through his head as his pinky fell to the dirt below his feet. But when he woke up in the hospital, it wasn't his left pinky that was missing. It was his left ring finger.

He thought about asking David, but wasn't quite sure that it was a good idea. Hey, David, I know that I've been spiraling and you've seen me in the hospital more times this month than you should have but can you just tell me real quick if you remember seeing my finger in the cave and if it looked like it should've been my ring finger? Because I swear that isn't the one I cut off. That wouldn't go over well, any questions about David finding him wouldn't go over well. This was something he was going to have to figure out by himself, if he figured it out at all. Maybe he would just put this whole thing behind him, take David's hand and run away from this place. The caves didn't hold anything but hurt, maybe it was time he left that go.

“Emily asked me to give this to you.” Eight words from Ambrose was all it took to make Matt abandon his promise to let it go.

They were driving towards the grotto, stifling silence seeping into every inch of the car, threatening to choke Matt alive. And then, a moment of clarity: Ambrose had been in the caves. He knew what was going on. “Do you know what happened to my finger?”

“Emily has it,” Ambrose said distractedly, speeding up the car once again as though he were racing against the sun itself. “Not sure you'll be able to get that one back, though.”

“Okay, but why was it different from the one I cut off?”

This question, at the very least, seemed to catch Ambrose's attention. The car slowed to just above the speed limit, Ambrose looking at Matt out of the corner of his eye. “What do you mean it's different from the one you cut off? It was your ring finger. Left ring finger, beautiful sentiment, I'm sure–”

“I cut off my pinky.” And Matt was certain he did. Even now, with the gaping space where his ring finger once sat staring back at him, all of the pain seemed to be radiating from his pinky. It's like his body knew what he had done, knew that what was missing wasn't where the pain truly laid. “I know for a fact that I cut off my pinky. Why the hell would I cut my ring finger off? That's way harder to do, dude. You gotta be way more careful of other fingers that way and yeah, I was cutting off my finger, but I didn't want to cut off more fingers than necessary.”

The look of confusion on Ambrose's face slowly grew to one of clarity, the car speeding up once again as they made their way closer to Shade’s End. “It needed a bigger sacrifice.”

“What did? And why bother with another finger?”

Ambrose took the next turn hard, the car screeching into the parking lot by the grotto. “The finger– the blood and pain– is just part of it. It needs your heart, your conviction, too. Symbolism counts with these things; it took what it needed to get your message through to her.”

That stopped Matt's heart in his chest. “She… She got my message?”

“Of course she did. You're going to save her, Matt. We just need to go back into the grotto for you to do that. It took almost all that it needed; there's still a little more you need to give and then she'll be back. She'll be back and you'll be fixed, all that pain disappearing. Isn't that what you want?”

Matt thought of the pain, suffocating and scratching, as he was buried beneath the rubble. He thought of the burning in his lungs, the raw feeling his his throat as he screamed himself hoarse after almost drowning. He thought of the sharp sting of losing his finger. He thought of the crash, the crash that was his fault, and how he would give anything to fix that.

And, for the briefest of moments, he thought of David. But David couldn't fix this, couldn't save Matt or save Emily. Only Matt could do that.

“Let's go.”

[venjamin-kingdomhearts]

yo this is completely random, but i just want you to know, i happened to see the post about writing a ventus and roxas fic and hi, im the author or AAR, i would 1000% leave a like a long comment on such a fic. it's 1 am and im very reminiscent on things rn, just thought id pass this along <3

oh my gosh! hi! this is so so sweet, AAR was SUCH a huge inspiration for me when it came out. it's actually the whole reason i started an a03, aaaand i think it might've been what encouraged me to start writing on my tumblr! oh man, i remember back in 2019, writing a roxas and ventus fic after reading AAR. BOY is it old, eheh... aaand i definitely see ven and roxas differently from then, not really into the whole "they see each other as brothers" angle anymore. anyhoo, im, like, SO honored you popped in to say hi?? this is like. SO sweet. i definitely need to re-read AAR again. oooh man apologies that this reply gets long, i'm just a bit excited! i love talking to people about these two...

the post you mentioned stumbling across is actually pretty old, eheh. i've written quite a bit since then!

Here's my ao3. You might notice i have a few Ventus and Roxas ship fics, which i TOTALLY understand isn't for everyone. i mostly write non-shippy stuff about them, anyways. I usually tag friendship posts about Ventus and Roxas . I even write headcanons about their friendship from time to time! heh, i'm kinda sitting on this unfinished ven and rox friendship fic right now. i'm definitely gonna finish it *eventually*-- but hell, maybe i'll just link the wip here lol

I hope i'm linking these correctly, but here are some ventus and roxas (and xion) thoughts i've written. and!!! i can totally recommend some of my favorite roxas and ventus friendship fics + blogs, too! just gimme the word and i'll compile some recommendations.

and, hey, it's been ages since i've started this fic and i haven't really gotten anywhere... but i'll share the work in progress here for anyone to see! here's chapter 5 of "five is company", if anyone wants to check it out. eheh, sorry this kinda turned into a self-advertisement. i just figured it'd be a good idea to compile some of my stuff here in case you were in the mood to read some ventus and roxas content! anyhoo, thank you so much for stopping by! it's... so very, very sweet of you to say hello to me. AAR really did inspire me a lot back in the day, and i hope life's been treating you well since the last update. it's awesome to see more posts from you, and definitely let me know if you want some recommendations for roxas and ventus fics.

[taronunwin]

As He Breaks

Chapter 1 by Carver Edlund

Dean's wrists were badly chafed. He suspected his ankles looked the same, if not worse. He wasn't sure why he bothered fighting against the chains that held him to the rack just loosely enough to allow for some struggle but never enough to actually do any good. It had been weeks, months, years... maybe even decades, but still, he couldn't help himself. He had to fight against the pain. It was as natural a reaction as squinting after stepping into direct sunlight.

Sunlight. How long had it been since he'd seen that? Somehow that felt even longer ago.

He'd kept count for the first year. He would whisper it under his breath at the end of each day, at the end of each session. When Alastair laid his razor down on the table of instruments he kept close, Dean would grit his teeth and, through the blood in his mouth, groan out the number. The last he recalled saying was 368.

On day 369, he couldn't remember what yesterday was. Every day contained the same thing so he was surprised he'd kept track as long as he did.

"369," Alastair said when Dean didn't. His voice was unnaturally sympathetic. That startled Dean more than what he said. "It's day 369, Dean." He’d sobbed that day. Not that he hadn’t cried before here, but this time it wasn’t because of the pain—not totally, at least. Hearing his name said softly, almost kindly, broke his heart completely.

How long ago had that been, Dean wondered. Day 369 became 370, then it was 400, then he gave up keeping track when he realized that he had started counting because he believed it would end one day. But it wouldn't. This torture, this excruciating pain, it would never end.

On whatever day it was this time, Alastair glanced at Dean, returning from cleaning his blade on an already blood-soaked towel nearby. Dean’s jaw clenched tightly, the only pain he could control, and his eyes shut. His hands balled into fists and he tensed, knowing exactly what was coming. The day was nearly over, he never knew how he knew that but somehow he just did, so Alastair was cramming in what he wanted to finish before time was up.

The razor cut into the flesh just below his ribcage and, though he tried to keep silent, Dean cried out until his throat was raw. Or at least more raw than it had been at the start of the day. Water, or better yet whiskey, was unheard of down here. He knew screaming was just as useless as fighting, but he was powerless to stop either. No one would help, no one seemed able to hear, except Alastair.

Not that Alastair was the only one who took pleasure in Dean’s agony. Others came, some demon, some human on their way to becoming demons. But today it was just Alastair.

Finally, the master of torture stepped back, tilted his head, and smiled. He was hideous in every way, his un-vesseled form, but his smile made the ugly, evil face even harder to look at. Dean refused to open his eyes, instead hearing the smile in Alastair’s voice when he stated, “There. I think that’s quite enough for one day, wouldn’t you agree?”

Then, the same sounds he’d heard every night since he awoke here, suspended and chained in the abyss: the familiar metal-on-metal tick of the razer being placed on the table; a few footsteps; scribbling; Alastair’s notebook closing; more footsteps, nearing this time. Dean knew what the demon would say next and he knew what he had to say.

But yesterday something had changed. He’d felt his strength waning. Not that he had any left, but his reserves, the ones buried way down deep, were failing him. Years upon years of this had stripped away every ounce of resolve he had. And yesterday, when Alastair offered to take him off the rack, Dean hadn’t replied. It was the first time that he couldn’t find the will to say ‘no’, or one of the many other sarcastic responses he’d come up with. Instead, his silence spoke for him and Alastair returned the next morning with his tools and evil smile.

Dean couldn’t open his eyes if he wanted to look at the figure hovering over him, taking stock of the damage the demon had inflicted. Dean couldn’t recall ever being so exhausted. He had endured so much pain, he was at his breaking point.

“Did you know it’s our anniversary today, Dean?” Alastair asked, his voice just above a whisper.

Dean could barely breathe, his body torn to shreds, but he fought to focus on the words. What could it be, five years? Ten? Twenty?

“I know, you wanted to get me something special to celebrate but you’ve been just so darn tied up lately.” He laughed. Dean cringed. “Don’t worry, I got you something special.”

Alastair leaned in even closer as Dean angled his head as far away as he could manage. “I was thinking tomorrow, we get... a dog.”

Tears burned behind his closed lids and one escaped down his bruised cheek. His fists ached but he couldn’t release them. He imagined breaking these chains and... and what? There was no getting out or getting back to earth.

And Dean knew what kind of dog Alastair was referring to. A hellhound. It wasn’t the first time Alastair had let the beast at Dean but it had been a while—that was one thing Dean was thankful for.

“Oh, bother, I shouldn’t have told you. Now you’re so excited you won’t be able to sleep,” Alastair teased, straightening. “Unless, of course... you don’t want to.” He almost sang the words. “You know, if you wanted to get out of here, we could go somewhere nice to celebrate.”

There it was. The offer. Cruelly disguised as freedom, but it was there all the same: get off the rack and take Alastair’s place. Stop being the victim and start on his path to becoming a demon.

Alastair waited patiently. Moments passed and Dean said nothing. He couldn’t speak. He wanted to decline, scream it, shout it, spit it, but nothing came out.

“Alright,” Alastair finally replied, an odd mix of pleasure and disappointment in his tone. “Then I will see you bright and early tomo—”

“How long?” Dean didn’t recognize his own voice but he knew from the grating in his throat that he’d managed to speak.

“I beg your pardon?”

Dean swallowed painfully. “How long?” He forced his eyes open and tried to look Alastair square in the face.

The demon smiled. “How long have we been together? Why, Dean, I’m hurt. I thought you were keeping count this whole time.” He waited, expecting a snippy reply, but Dean had nothing to say. Sighing, Alastair replied, “30 years.”

Dean could have fainted. If it was earth and the natural rules applied, he would have. 30 years. To some extent, he couldn’t believe it had been so long but he was equally as shocked that so little time had passed. It felt like an eternity already. How could he possibly endure more, much less more without end?

His thoughts shifted to Sam, the only comfort he found here. Was he happy now? If 30 years had passed, Dean could believe that Sammy had moved on and had been able to forget about him. He’d be over 50 now. Dean almost smiled at the mental image of his brother with thinning hair and—

“And no, Sam isn’t an old man now.”

Dean froze.

“You see Dean, time’s different down here. Oh yes, it’s been 30 years here, but it’s only been 3 months up there.”

That statement, whether true or false, burned the last atom of strength Dean had left. He couldn’t fight anymore. He had fought for 30 years. 3 decades to the day. And he couldn’t take it any longer.

“Well, I’ll just be going now.”

Knowing the satisfaction it would give Alastair almost made Dean keep quiet but he also knew what would come tomorrow if he didn’t. “Wait.”

Alastair stopped at the door, his hand on the rusty knob. He didn’t look back. “Yes, Dean? Something you need?”

Dean closed his eyes against the spinning room. His heart slammed against his ribs like a sledgehammer. He was giving up and his body, or maybe his soul, hated him for it. “I’ll do it.”

The footsteps approached again. “I might have some blood in my ear, Dean, so could you repeat that? I want to get it just right for my diary.”

“I said... I’ll do it.” His voice was still unrecognizable to him. It was weak, unsteady, raw, just like the rest of him. It suited the victimized, abused man he’d become.

Then suddenly, he was that man no longer. His hands relaxed and the agonizing tension in every muscle eased. This had happened a million times before but this time the ‘healing’ felt different. He felt like himself again; powerful and capable, young and alive. The chains fell open as Alastair snapped his finger and for the first time in 30 years, Dean was free from bondage. He sat up slowly, cautiously. He felt sure that this was a trick, that the chains would close again around his limbs and he would be stuck again, left to contemplate his absolute aloneness until Alastair returned.

But it didn’t happen.

He swung his legs over the side of the cold metal rack and his torturer stepped back, giving Dean space. Dean couldn’t shake the unease he felt as Alastair watched him like Alastair was a starved monster and Dean was his lunch.

Even though he was whole again, uncut, unbloodied, Dean’s legs were not what they once were and his knees buckled when his feet touched the floor and his weight shifted. He held onto the rack and cursed. Alastair abruptly walked to the other side of the room to a cabinet that Dean had never seen open. Swinging it open and revealing at least a dozen bottles of liquor, Alastair glanced back. “Can I interest you in a drink to celebrate this momentous occasion?”

Dean’s mouth watered and his stomach growled at the sight. He was proof that food and drink wasn’t a necessity to survive in hell, he hadn’t eaten since his last meal at Bobby’s house, but he still craved it.

Alastair selected one and moved to the door. He opened it and called, “Bring her in.” Dean watched in shock as two demons dragged a woman in, wailing and begging. Dean moved away from the rack in horror as she was strapped into the space he had filled for the past decades. She too fought against the restraints uselessly, crying, her eyes darting around the room. She was as panicked as he had been his first day in this God-forsaken room.

Dean turned away from the sight, covering his face with a shaking hand. He knew what was expected of him, what his end of the bargain was for the woman taking his place. But he had spent his whole life helping people, saving them from monsters. Would he really become the monster now to spare himself?

“Oh Dean,” Alastair sang above the woman’s shrieks. Dean slowly, almost against his will, looked at the demon. Alastair held out the bottle of liquor but Dean wasn’t unaware of what Alastair was really offering him. His free hand rested over his razor and he tapped his finger impatiently on its handle. “Come on, grasshopper, it’s time to get started.”

Resisting the urge to vomit, if that was even possible in hell, Dean yanked the bottle from Alastair’s hand, broke the seal, and drank it greedily. He could barely stop but he needed air. Lowering it, he inhaled deeply, gruffly. Perhaps this was when the real torture began, he considered. Maybe there was a way to get free, to—

Suddenly Alastair was directly beside him, his hand tight against Dean’s throat. “I know what you’re thinking, Dean, and before you think it a moment longer, I want you to know that if you don’t pick up that blade and do exactly as I tell you, you will spend the rest of your days on this rack without another offer. And don’t forget, ‘the rest of your days’ is really just a figure of speech. You understand me?”

Dean understood perfectly. This was his only chance to be free of an eternity of suffering. He nodded once.

Alastair released him and moved away, close to the woman. “Hello, my dear,” he swooned. “You are in for a real treat, I mean a real treat. You see this man, oh he’s really something special, dear. You might even say he’s a virgin and you’re going to be his first. Yes, this is going in my diary for certain. Now come on, Dean, let’s not waste the lovely girl’s time, can’t you see she’s ready and waiting?”

Dean finished the bottle. Slamming it down, he heard the woman cry out in surprise at the noise before continuing to sob, begging Alastair to let her go. Dean wished he was deaf. And blind.

With a trembling hand, he gripped the blade and turned. She eyed the razer and screamed even louder than before.

Alastair grinned. “That’s right, come here now.”

Dean didn’t remember much of what happened next. He listened to Alastair’s instructions, where to cut, how to cut, what places on the body produced the most and least amounts of blood, and so on. To Dean’s disgust, Alastair was teaching him.

Something in Dean’s mind switched ‘off’ that day. And it was at the exact moment that Alastair’s blade, held tightly in Dean’s own hand, sliced through the woman’s skin, drawing the most fear-filled cry he had ever heard. But she wasn’t afraid of Alastair. She was afraid of Dean.

To protect himself, he imagined, it was as though his humanity turned away and all that was left was the wounded animal who finally, after 30 years, had the chance to inflict pain back. He couldn’t hurt Alastair, but he could imagine that every soul placed before him was the demon.

And instead of counting the days, Dean began counting souls. Until he lost count of those, too.

[widowsistersandfriends]

ok so we all know that steve would be such a tickle monster with nat, and would definitely love messing with her. maybe a fic where they are training and steve pins her, and then wrecks her, the thin tank top she’s wearing and the fact that’s she barefoot giving her no protection. thanks!

Hi! Thank you so much for this request! This was fun to write, especially because Natasha needs a good wrecking :)

Word Count: 1000

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

It was a busy time at the compound. The Avengers had a mission coming up in a few days, and everyone had decided that it would be best to get in a little last minute training to prepare.

Steve and Natasha had decided to partner up to spar a little. Just some light hand-to-hand combat training to help sharpen their skills and make sure they were ready.

“C’mon Rogers, we don’t have all day here,” Natasha remarked, as Steve struggled to put his shoes on.

“You make me feel so worthy every day, Romanoff,” Steve responded, as the redhead just smirked at him.

“You ready to get your ass whooped Rogers?” Natasha quipped.

“Language. Also, even though you’re a trained assassin, I think I still have some power to my name, so don’t get too cocky,” Steve said, stepping into the area where they were going to spar.

“I’m totally gonna whoop your ass, and I don’t need shoes or socks either,” the redhead said cockily, throwing her shoes and socks to the side.

Steve just smiled innocently, noticing that Natasha was now barefoot. After all of her snarky comments, Steve knew this training session was going to be fun.

After a few minutes of light sparring to warm up, the two of them were now getting more competitive, each trying to find a move that would defeat the other. Both of them were dodging and throwing several punches and kicks, occasionally catching the other off-guard, but not quite enough to end it.

Steve had trained many times with Natasha, so he had learned a lot of her go-to moves. This was one of those times, as he caught the redhead’s arm mid-air, right as she made a move to grab at his shoulder.

The redhead just gaped at him for a moment, shocked that he knew what she was going to do next.

“How did you—oof.” Natasha’s words were cut off, as she was tackled to the mat and pinned within a second.

“Seems like you’re a little off your game, am I right? I thought you said you were gonna whoop my behind?” Steve playfully teased.

“I said I would whoop your ass, now let me go!” Natasha said, struggling to get out of his hold.

“Since I beat you, I think you should get punished for being cheeky and thinking you were going to automatically win against me,” Steve reasoned.

“What are you going to do? Give me a lecture about how I shouldn’t use ‘bad language’?” Natasha shot back.

“Even though that’s a good idea, I’m actually gonna do this instead!” Steve said, as he began to wiggle his fingers all over the redhead’s sides. She then immediately burst out into her rare, but adorable giggles.

“Steheheheve stohohohp thihihis ihihis soho nohoht fahahir,” Natasha giggled out, struggling to break free from this humiliation.

“How is this not fair? I clearly won, so this is your punishment for losing and for being cocky,” Steve replied, now worming his fingers into her armpits.

Natasha tried her best to clamp her arms down, but Steve’s fingers still found their way into there.

“NOHOHOHO STAHAHAHAP NOHOHOT THEHEHERE,” the redhead laughed out, as her face began to turn a shade of red closer to her hair color. She had regretted wearing a tank top that day.

“Oooh, did I find a bad spot?” Steve teased, as he wiggled his fingers even faster.

“STEHEHEHEVE GEHEHET OUOUT OHOHOF THEHEHEHRE,” Natasha screamed through her laughter.

“Fine, I’ll just get you elsewhere,” Steve replied, as he moved down towards her feet.

“No! Please, I’ve had enough!” Natasha cried out, right before she let out the loudest squeal ever.

Steve had just begun to lightly scratch up and down her feet, causing her to scream with laughter.

“NOHOHOHO MOHOHOHOHORE, ENOUOUGH,” the redhead cried.

“Maybe if you had worn shoes and socks it wouldn’t tickle as bad,” Steve said smugly, as he began to scribble underneath her toes.

“STAHAHAHAHAHP PLEHEHEHEASE YOUOUOUOU WIHIHIHIN,” Natasha screamed out through her laughter.

“Ah, there are the words that I wanted to hear,” Steve said victoriously, as the redhead struggled to catch her breath.

“Screw you, Rogers, you’re gonna regret that,” Natasha said breathlessly.

Steve just walked over to help Natasha up, lifting her from underneath her arms.

What the redhead didn’t know was that Steve was still feeling mischievous, so she let him lift her up, and relaxed her arms.

Steve then began to scribble his fingers as fast as possible in her armpits, causing her to squeal and immediately collapse back onto the floor.

“QUIHIHIT IHIHT YOUOU JEHEHERK,” Natasha laughed, as Steve finally had mercy on her.

“Maybe that will teach you to not be cocky anymore when going against me?” Steve questioned. The redhead was stubborn and didn’t respond. She knew deep down inside that even though she had lost, she was never going to stop throwing snarky comments at him.

“Or maybe that you should at least wear socks when we’re training since your feet are so ticklish?” Steve smirked, knowing that the redhead was bound to say something at that.

“Oh shut up Steve! You just cheated to beat me,” the redhead shot back.

“How did I cheat? I beat you fair and square!” Steve argued back.

Natasha opened her mouth to retort something in response, but then realized that she was beaten fair and square and only got wrecked as a punishment.

“Whatever Rogers, you just got lucky,” Natasha grumbled, pinching Steve’s side.

Steve yelped and jumped away from her, as his eyes widened with fear, like many people did around the scary redhead.

“Oh? What do we have here?” Natasha asked with a sly smirk on her face, slowly making her way towards her next target for revenge.

Within seconds, Natasha was already pinning Steve down, and dishing out her revenge. Natasha always made sure that her revenge she dished out was worse than what she received, as Steve’s laughter rang out throughout the compound.

[iliveiloveiwrite]

Just The Way You Are// D.M.

Request: Hi can you do a draco x reader where they are in a relationship and her parents are like as**oles and they always bother her about her weight so one day she is with draco and makes a comment like “maybe i should stop eating so much” or something like that and Draco is like WHAT and tells her that she is beautiful and all that and he is like really worried Thanks!!

A/N: MY 100TH FIC!!! MY 100TH FIC FOR HP!!! Of course it has to be Draco!! I didn't think I would ever reach 100 fics as well as get over 1000 followers yet here I am. I am so thankful to all of you who have read everything but have also motivated me into continuing to write even when I doubt my own abilities (which is a lot). Thank you so much for requesting, lovely! I hope I have done your request justice! I enjoyed writing this, I ended up writing it all in one sitting. Please read the warnings before you read! And as always, I hope you enjoy!

Pairing: Draco Malfoy x Fem!Reader

Warnings: food, weight issues, shitty parents, swearing (I think) BUT DRACO IS CUTE DAMMIT.

Word count: 2k

Every morning in the Great Hall, breakfast is served at seven am sharp. This gives the students enough time to eat, socialise and let their food settle before classes begin promptly at half past eight. It also gives the students time to read over any mail that should fall with the Owls upon their arrival at eight am.

As your family owl drops a letter inscribed with the familiar handwriting of your mother, you don’t know whether to scream in frustration or burn the letter without reading. You knew that it would be filled with her usual criticism rounded off with a few sweet lines about the renovation to the house or how your cousin was doing so well on her internship abroad.

You flip the letter in your hands a few times; wondering whether the Howler from your mother would be worth it once she never got a reply from you. However, you eventually decide that the Howler would not be worth it and that your mother’s vitriol is better off read in silence.

Rolling your eyes, you try not to let the letter affect you so much. Her words are always poisonous and toxic, but this time, she cuts you where it hurts.

“My dear, how on earth is the Malfoy boy supposed to stay with you if you continue to gain weight? I’ve enclosed a new diet regiment for you to follow – stick to it, this is not an option.”

You scrunch up the letter and the included diet regiment in your hands. Crunching them up until they resemble litter rather than the foul words scrawled onto parchment.

You had never felt you had issues with your weight; there wasn’t any need to necessarily – the meals at Hogwarts were scheduled and there was enough exercise done through the day in order to get to classes on time, and this was before the weekend walks to Hogsmeade or the ambles around the Black Lake with Draco.

You don’t feel like there should be an issue with your weight, but your mother’s words are venomous barbs that stick into your brain. Her words on replay in the forefront of your mind.

There was no real excuse for the way your mother harked on about appearances and reputations. Your family hailed from an ancient line of witches and wizards; even going so far as to state that your ancestors were among the very first to attend Hogwarts when the founders were teachers.

So for your mother, everything since then had to be perfect.

Perfect hair. Perfect dress. Perfect manners.

Perfect weight, apparently.

Any appetite you had before has now dissipated. It’s funny how three lines of a letter is enough to put one off their morning meal.

You felt like a rule change should be implemented at Hogwarts; no mail until the evening - that way students don’t have the time to sit and worry about the thoughts of their parents.

Pushing your plate away from you, you bring out your reading book from your bag. Flipping through the familiar pages, you find the dog-eared corner from where you rounded off last night before falling asleep.

It’s easy to lose yourself in the pages having read the story over a thousand times before, but the niggling voice in the back of your head that sounds suspiciously similar to your mothers has you reading the same paragraph over and over again.

A kiss being pressed to the top of your hand is the first greeting from Draco. The next is a quiet good morning as he pours himself a glass of pumpkin juice.

You smile at the blonde-haired teenager, looking up from your book, but the smile doesn’t quite reach your eyes.

“Love, is everything okay?” Draco asks; immediately spotting that something is off.

You shake your head, “It’s nothing to worry about, love. I just didn’t sleep very well last night.”

Draco chuckles; not entirely convinced but happy to wait until you come to him. “It’s because you didn’t stay with me last night.”

You roll your eyes with a grin, “I’ve stayed in your dorm the last three nights; it’s only a matter of time before someone says something.”

Draco shrugs; leaning over to peck your cheek, “Let them, I don’t care.”

“You will when we get caught out by Snape on a random inspection,” You comment with a light laugh.

Draco smiles broadly at the idea of the Head of Slytherin ever completing a random inspection of the dungeon. He grabs a slice of toast from the rack and reaches for the marmalade.

His eyes wander over the lack of food in front of you, “Already eaten?”

You nod, smirking, “And all alone as well since you take so long in the mornings.”

He laughs, “It takes time to look this good, darling.”

“Sure it does,” You comment, leaning in to peck him on the lips. He hums against your mouth happily, but all too soon, you pull away, “I’m off to the library before class, I want to get ahead on the History of Magic essay. I’ll see you later.”

You drop another kiss to Draco’s mouth before hoisting your bag onto your shoulder and departing from the Great Hall.

Draco shakes his head at your retreating figure; something about you was off, but he couldn’t place his finger on what. He wasn’t going to pester you as it would only make things worse, but he knew he had to address it before you lost yourself from overthinking.

Draco bites into his toast; already thinking of the ways he can talk to you.

----

Your days are always filled with little highlights; seeing the first flower bloom after a long winter or reading your favourite part of your book without being interrupted or it’s finding Draco waiting outside your classroom after every lesson of the day.

You find him waiting opposite the door to your class; leaning against the wall with his robes open, showing the white buttoned shirt underneath. His rebelliousness highlighted in the undone top button and untucked shirt. You shake your head as you make your way over to the teenager that made your heart stutter.

He grins, holding his elbow out to you, “Lunch, my love?”

“Lead the way.”

The Great Hall is loud upon your arrival. Students shouting, laughing, grabbing for food from the centre of the tables. It’s a ruckus, but it makes you smile as you take a seat across from Draco at the Slytherin table.

“Is that all you’re eating?” Draco asks with a frown at the sight of your plate.

You nod your head; your mother’s words from this morning making another round in your head, “I’m not overly hungry.”

The frown doesn’t leave Draco’s face, and through lunch, he glances between your face and the plate, wondering what’s changed for your appetite to have disappeared.

Draco walks you to your next class after the bell rings signalling the end of lunch.

He pauses outside the classroom, keeping a tight grip on your hand. His other hand reaches up to caress your cheek; a rare form of PDA from the Slytherin Prince who was more than happy to kiss and hold hands but would rarely show his feelings so openly.

“You’d tell me if something was wrong wouldn’t you?” He asks; concern alight in his eyes.

You hold his hand to your cheek; pressing a kiss to the palm, “I would.”

He nods silently. Kissing your forehead, Draco turns away, striding to his next class.

Guilt stirs within you like a lead balloon; weighing you down for the rest of the day. Even the ringing of the final bell of the day wasn’t enough to lift your mood.

Draco continues to meet you after every class; his arm always ready for you to slip yours through. But he’s quieter; more sombre as he leads your through the bustling corridors and staircases.

At the end of the day, he escorts you to the Great Hall. The level of noise quieter from lunch but still loud as students discuss their plans for the evening over the food laid out on the long, wooden tables.

Dinner is a feast by any standard, and Draco tucks right in, piling food onto his plate – ravenous after a day filled with exam preparation. You take your time with your meal; selecting more and more vegetables as you think back to the letter and diet regiment now burning a hole through your bag.

Draco sighs as he watches you pick at your food. He reaches over, checking your temperature with the back of his hand on your forehead, “Well you feel fine,” he murmurs, “Are you sure you’re okay? You’ve picked at your food all day, and you’ve become more distant as the day’s gone on.”

“I’ll talk to you about it in the common room,” You state.

“You will?”

Nodding, you promise,  “I will.”

Draco makes his way through the rest of the meal; drawing you into a conversation after conversation about how the day has been. When his plate is empty and yours has been pushed to one side, Draco stands from the bench. He takes one last drink of his pumpkin juice before holding his hand out to you.

The walk to the common room is quiet; you think over the letter in your bag, wondering about the reply you’re going to send back to your mother. One cross word from you and you wouldn’t be surprised if she, herself, showed up in Dumbledore’s office demanding punishment for your insolent words.

It was tiring, you realise, to be her daughter.

The Slytherin common room is silent when Draco leads you through the door; all students either still eating in the Great Hall or ambling about the castle. You settle on the black leather couch in front of the already lit fire; you hum at the warmth it gives off – holding your hands out to warm them through.

Once your hands are warm enough, you lean back into the couch. Feeling Draco’s eyes on you, you shift your head, facing him with a small smile.

Draco tucks a strand of your hair behind your ear, “What’s going on in that pretty little head?”

You sigh, opening your bag and pulling out the letter. Handing it to Draco, you say wryly, “Dear old mama wrote, that’s what.”

Draco scans over the letter; getting to the three lines that have played on your mind all day and have affected your eating habits so quickly.

Draco folds the letter carefully into the three; he folds it ever so neatly before ripping it to pieces in front of your eyes, leaning forward and throwing the tiny pieces into the fire.

“I hope you don’t believe a word she’s written.”

You shrug, fiddling with your fingers, “Maybe I should stop eating so much.”

Draco leaps up from the couch; spreading his arms wide, “There is absolutely nothing wrong with your weight – you do not need to lose, you do not need to gain. You are perfect the way you are. I love you to pieces, but darling, your mother is an awful person. What sort of person sends that to their child?”

He kneels on the ground in front of you, “I will love you no matter what. The sky could be green, and the clouds could be purple hedgehogs, but even that would not distract me from my love for you.”

He gestures to the pieces of parchment now turning to ash in the flames, “Everything about you is beautiful; from the top of your head to the tip of your toes – there isn’t anything about you I don’t adore. Reply to your mother if you must; tell her that you’ve let me read the letter and that I absolutely disagree with her words.”

Draco surges forward, kissing you soundly. He shifts slightly, beginning to press you into the couch, “I love you – just the way you are.”

******

General (HP) taglist: @chaotic-fae-queen @obsessedwithrandomthings @harrypotter289 @dreamer821 @kalimagik @heloisedaphnebrightmore @nebulablakemurphy @the-hufflefluffwriter @figlia--della--luna @bforbroadway @idont-knowrn @summer-writes @big-galaxy-chaos @black-lake-confessions @annasofiaearlobe @imboredandneedalife @levylovegood @mytreec @haphazardhufflepuff @teheharrypotter @chaoticgirl04 @accio-rogers @msmimimerton​ @izzytheninja​ @slytherinprincess03​

Draco Malfoy taglist: @the--queen-of-hell @obx-beach @obxmxybxnk @sycathorn-slush @dracomalfoyswifey

[d20owlbear]

"Your Lasso Wound Around My Neck" :eyes emoji x 1000:

So! This fic is actually partially posted here: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24651685

It's a GO western AU where Crowley is a ranchero and Aziraphale a blacksmith and farrier who'd been picked up. It also has one of my FAVORITE pieces of writing that's waiting for me to get back into it and writing for it again.

Adding below a spoiler/read more in case ppl would rather wait

((it was very hard to cut down this scene for viewing here, sorry if anything seems a bit lost, and all you need to really know is that Crowley has a little black book that's his 'ranch diary' of sorts, has ranch secrets and ledger information to be noted down in the official ledger later, as well as Crowley's private thoughts... and feelings he's not supposed to be having a la homophobia))

"Thank ya kindly, then." Crowley murmured as he stepped close enough that Aziraphale was forced to pull his hand back so that he wouldn't stab the man with soft leather and paper. Crowley reached for the book reverently, with all the aplomb of a man taking a holy relic, and his fingers brushed the length of Aziraphale's in the transfer. 

Aziraphale had never been so jealous of a book in his life as he was of this one, cradled by Crowley's long, hard fingers and sat firmly in his palm. 

"Is that all?" Crowley continued, voice suddenly hoarse, though Aziraphale wasn’t entirely sure why. He looked up at Crowley and tried not to flinch at the sheer dread on the man's face. 

"I dunno, is it, Mr. Crowley?" Aziraphale asked softly. "Because I don't think it rightly is. I think there's a bit more to that book, bein’ returned by me, that might need to be laid all out there on the table, as it were." 

Crowley swallowed hard and let his hand drop, still holding the book, before turning back to the desk and stepping across the room once more with dull, uninspiring thuds of hard boots on hard floors. The lanky man grabbed up his brandy and let the rest of what was in the glass slide down his throat in a single go, seemingly needing either the courage in his blood or the time to think up his next move. 

"You read it?" Those three words damned them both, in all the ways it mattered really. And Aziraphale could feel the way the hanging tree suddenly sprouted two new nooses from its boughs. Three words that felt like foreseeing their graves, but it also felt a bit like finding a new colt alive and well after not expecting it to make the night. Confusing and exhilarating and exhausting and all those words that buried too many feelings inside a chest already crowded with heart and lungs and with no room left for the rest. 

"I did." Aziraphale couldn't think of anything else to say but the truth. "And, at the risk of being shot down for flying out in the front ‘a game rush, it was about me. Wasn't it?" And there went quite a few more words that felt like damnation and new colts too. 

Crowley didn't respond except to sigh and head over behind the desk to pour himself more drink. He paused briefly before taking out another glass and pouring just as healthy of a portion as his own. 

"As much as you might not believe it, but there's things that weren't meant to be read. Even by a school marm like yourself." Crowley said at last, smiling that straight razor way of his and talking jovially through his teeth though even butter wouldn't melt in his mouth. 

"I ain't a school marm and you ought to know that by now, since your pay ledgers say otherwise about my work." Aziraphale couldn't help but rise to the old, familiar bait Crowley laid out for him. It was safer waters than whatever the rest of this conversation would surely delve to. "But I can't say that I've ever found a book I wasn’t meant to go through." 

"Well maybe ya just did." Crowley shot back with a surprising hiss in his throat. Aziraphale stepped forward and took the drink from where it sat in front of Crowley on the table behind the desk, standing right beside where the taller man hadn't bothered to move from, and pretended like the heat off their shoulders nearly brushing didn't affect him nearly as much as it did. 

"Did I?" Aziraphale asked lowly. 

"Sometimes," Crowley began with a sigh worthy of Atlas and he turned to hide his yellow belly from Aziraphale again, stepping around his desk and to the windows overlooking the empty paddock, "Sometimes things like that’re dangerous. Filled with all sorts of dangerous things." 

"There's danger in reading?" Aziraphale asked, as if he didn’t know the exact sort of danger he's referring to. 

"In this, sure. Dangerous secrets to get found out. Dangerous thoughts an' dangerous feelings…" Crowley sipped at his brandy and shifted his weight to a hip as Aziraphale followed him once more over to the window. 

"Yeah? How're them feelings dangerous? If ya don't mind me inquiring." Aziraphale asked, and he's reminded of talking down a skittish horse to accept his touch so he can go about getting proper shoes on it, to help them both in the long run. 

"You know why." Crowley spat with a grimace overtaking his face, and suddenly Aziraphale just can't take it anymore. Can't take the box step they've been dancing around each other for years now when finally, maybe, something might come of it. Can't take the way Crowley looks like he's gonna die right then and there and sigh his ghost right out of his body for fear of shattering what's between them. So he does the first impulsive thing he's done since coming out here on a whim and following red hair to a ranch outside of a tiny town in nowhere. 

Aziraphale grabbed Crowley's wrist in a firm, though kind, grip and pulled the man closer until they were face to face and he could tell Crowley was looking at him even through stained glass spectacles. "Aziraphale?" Crowley asked, voice tinny and tight. 

"I can't help but think," Aziraphale said, looking him right in the eyes and hoping to God he wasn't wrong about all this, but feeling his hand tremble and his boots shake on his feet like he might be, "That your dangerous thoughts and mine might be too alike to ignore."

"Aziraphale," Crowley said again, lips parted in a silent gasp, but that doesn't slow him down more than a hair. 

"And I think a whole book filled with me in the margins and sometimes whole pages from someone who says he ain't even a writer is the most flattering thing that's ever happened to me." Aziraphale finished and stepped in one more time to close the distance between them until he could feel Crowley's legs and chest and arms tremble the same way he was. 

"Ya think so?" Crowley whispered and licked his lips. 

"I think so." Aziraphale confirmed, and then closed his eyes with a moan shoved back down into his chest as Crowley's lips met his in the most searing kiss he'd ever had the pleasure of partaking in. The hanging tree felt closer than ever, but he also felt like his chest was filled with all sorts of new colts breaking into a run for the first time and doing excellently at it.

[tripleaxeldiaz]

2021 fic year in review 🌟

tagged by the love of my life @elisela 🖤🖤🖤

Total Number Of Completed Works: 21

Total Word Count: 70,368

Fandoms I’ve Written In: just 9-1-1

Looking Back, Did You Write More Fic Than You Thought You Would This Year, Less, Or About What You’d Expected? actually more! with work and life stuff i definitely thought i’d fall off the wagon a bit more, and while there were periods where i didn’t write anything, i always found inspiration in something which i’m honestly very grateful for

What’s Your Own Favorite Story Of The Year? maybe one day i’ll fly next to you of COURSE. this fic is the gift that keeps on giving because a.) i’m so pleased with how it turned out and b.) i’ve gotten SO many lovely comments about it and i’m just so happy about it

Did You Take Any Writing Risks This Year? i guess figure skating was a risk?? i just didn’t know how many people would care about a figure skating au 😅😅

Do You Have Any Fanfic Or Profic Goals For The New Year? just to keep writing!!

Most Popular Story Of The Year? figure skating again 😊😊

Story Of Mine Most Under-Appreciated By The Universe, In My Opinion: i’m not?? really sure?? i had some that got less hits on ao3 but blew UP on tumblr, so those kinda balanced out. i guess nobody wants to hear you sing about tragedy, but only because i personally love this one very very much, and it DID do well, but not as well as my eddie brainrot wanted lol

Most Fun Story To Write: figure skating AGAIN but also like it’s a little secret, like it’s all he has to give because we LOVE turning tropes on their heads!! and also i threw a wish in the well because tiktok fics are always fun

Most Unintentionally Telling Story: all of them are very telling in how Unwell i am about these idiots

Biggest Disappointment: you’re my living proof my love is alive. i do like it but it’s not quite the story i wanted to tell

Biggest Surprise: maybe then, i’ll fade away (and not have to face the facts). i think it ended up in the 911 trending topic here after the blackout trailer came out because it has almost 1000 notes??? which is WILD to me, because i wrote it in like 30 minutes and hit post with no editing

My Favorite Part Of Fandom This Year: all my beautiful wonderful friends that i can scream with every week and obsessively analyze screenshots of ears with to figure out who’s gonna be in which scenes. that’s LOVE baby 😂😂😂

tagging @extasiswings @letmetellyouaboutmyfeels @deareddie @zeethebooknerd @zainclaw @oatflatwhite @evanbucxley @buckthehalls @santabuckley @astronautdiaz and anyone else!!

[gale-gentlepenguin]

ML Fic: Nathalie’s Gift Part 1

She sat up in the middle of the night.

She took a moment to let her eyes adjust to the darkness. She knew it was late, likely an hour or two away from sunrise.

She examined her surroundings until she saw him. There he was, sleeping in the chair at the end of the room. Gabriel Agreste, her boss, her ally, and the one she had fallen for, was asleep in a chair several feet away.

Ever since the defeat of the guardian and the plan to use Chloé to get the miraculous, she had been far too weak to be as mobile as she was in the past. Gabriel had set her up in his quarters, despite the mansion having dozens of rooms. He had reasoned that Adrien would never walk into his room without permission, so that it would never become apparent how her condition was deteriorating.

His logic wasn't entirely unfounded. She was constantly teetering towards the brink. Overuse of the once broken peacock miraculous has left her bedridden most days. Despite the miraculous no longer having such a negative effect now, she knew the damage was already done. 

Yet he hasn't discarded her, was it out of loyalty that he felt the need to care for her despite being more of a burden? Did he perhaps start to feel something more for her as this whole debacle went on.

The later of which was unlikely, she knew better than anyone that Gabriel was far too loyal to his wife to entertain such a notion. So long as he believed there was a chance of bringing her back, he wont stop. She could never be Emilie Agreste, the love of his life and mother of Adrien. She was Nathalie Sancoeur, trusted assistant, and partner in crime. 

She forced herself out of bed. Moving quietly as to not awaken the sleeping mogul.

She snagged her tablet, and the peacock miraculous that was next to it.

She moved to the office and sat in the office chair. Perhaps she could get some work done while she was awake. And should she feel the need to speak to someone, the blue bird Kwami would be a fitting companion.

She started looking through work but her mind kept wandering to one thought

So long as Emilie could be brought back, he could never love me. I could never replace her.

She coughed.

“Not that it matters, I am on borrowed time as it is.” She commented to herself.

She stopped herself as she let her own comment sink in.

She was on borrowed time.

With how she was now, how much time did she have, a few months? A year? Maybe a decade if she really tried to take care of herself. But it wasn't like she was sick with a normal illness. But would Gabriel be able to get the miraculous? Even with everything they had, Ladybug and Chat noir always seemed to best them at every turn. At the rate things were going, she would likely end up in a glass coffin as well, and if Gabriel fails...

In that moment of worry. An idea that could fix everything slipped into her brain.

It was a long shot sure, there was a possibility that everything will backfire. But she needed to do it.

She exited out of her work and went into the security feed using her tablet. She disabled the secret camera hidden in the lair below.

She started making a few preparations.

_______________________________________________________________________

Gabriel awoke to his phone’s sudden vibrating.

He quickly shook himself and looked at his phone.

“The alarm was tripped. Someone damaged Emilie’s chamber!”

The fashion mogul rushed out of the room. His thoughts were firing through his brain a mile a minute.

Who found the lair? Was it one of the heroes? A spy? Who would dare desecrate my beloved wife’s container?

The fashion mogul made his way to the secret elevator.

A purple Kwami emerged from the pocket of the rushing fashion designer.

“Is something wrong master?”

“It appears there is an intruder in the secret sanctum.”

“What are you planning to do?”

“Im going to show them the error of their ways. Nooru, Dark wings rise.”

Gabriel transformed into the villainous hawkmoth, His face covered by a silver mask, and is candy cane color scheme replaced with a purple suit. 

He was armed and ready to fight should. 

As the elevator reaches the bottom. Hawkmoth dashes out as soon as it opens.

He would strike quick, and take care of the intruder before they realized who they were facing.

As he approached, he stopped dead in his tracks. As he noticed someone standing infront of the Glass container.

“Hello?” The figure called out. Her voice having a familiar tone that caught the butterfly villain off guard.

As his rage diminished, he felt his vision clear and noticed the shattered glass on the floor, along with the glass container that was now broken.

“It... It can't be...” Hawkmoth’s words escaped as he realized who was standing in front of him.

“Can you tell me where I am? I woke up in this... thing over hear. Im not entirely sure what’s going on.”

“Emilie... is that you?” Hawkmoth questioned, unsure if this was a dream, or if by some miracle the love of his life was indeed back from the abyss.

“How do you know my name Mr. Masked man?”

“Nooru, dark wings fall.”

The blond woman watched as the costumed stranger revealed himself.

“Gabriel? Is that you?”

A tear spilled from his eyes as he rushed to her. 

“You're here. How is... How is this possible?”

“I... I dont...” She started to stumble as she walked towards him. Her vision was starting to fade and the world was spinning.  

Gabriel quickly moved to catch her as she suddenly fell.

He felt his heart panic, but he could hear her breathing. She was simply sleeping.

“Perhaps it would be best to take her out of her.”

Gabriel walked to the elevator, his wife in his arms, asleep yet very alive. 

His mind had 1000 questions, but in this moment, he didn't care. He was holding the woman he loved in his arms again, and thats all that mattered.

___________________________________________________________________

“Gabriel!” She cried out as she woke up.

Sunlight was beaming from the window, it was clear it had been bright out for sometime.

She felt sheets underneath her. What she expected was a hard floor in a weird sanctum but now she felt the comfort of a room that felt familiar.

She heard the door open and looked to see her husband carrying a tray.

“Oh good, you're awake.” He spoke with soft relief.

She looked at the tray.

“Are those.”

“Lemon tea cookies. Your favorite.”

She smiled at him as he brought the tray to her bedside. Allowing her to snag a bite of one of them.

“So good!” She said as she finished her first cookie. “I feel like I haven't eaten in years!”

Gabriel’s expression faltered. She could see the pained expression as she said that.

“Gabriel... how long was I gone?” Her question verbally stabbed him.

He took a moment to process the curious expression on his wife’s face as she continued eating the tray of treats.

He looked down at his hands.

“A year and 6 months.”

She gulped down her cookie hard at the revelation.

“Wow... I've been gone for so long... Adrien must be taller then... ADRIEN!”

Emilie grabbed her husband by the collar.

“Where is Adrien?!”

“He’s at school” Gabriel answered.

Emilie blinked.

“School? You mean he is no longer being homeschooled?”

“He still has some lessons, but he was insistent on trying to go to school like other children his age. It was more ideal for him to go out than for him to be stuck here most hours of the day.”

Emilie processed that information.

“I see, I am surprised you said yes. You always said you hated public schooling.”

“I still believe the school systems are... inferior, but Adrien’s grades haven't faltered according to Nathalie. So I don't bother intervening.”

“My boy has grown up so much since Ive been gone. Wait, is he dating yet? Please tell me I didn’t miss his first crush!”

“Emilie, I am sure that you didnt miss anything. You and Adrien can catch up once you are rested and he is back from school.”

Emilie took a deep breathe.

“Okay, You're right. It will be nice to hear everything from him.”

She looked around the room a bit and noticed the vase full of roses.

“Oh, fresh roses. Gabe-y you cheesy romantic.”

Gabriel felt his cheeks go pink.

“It was... the room needed some color in it.”

“Much like those red pants you insist on wearing.”

“They are fashionable.”

“If you were in charge of candyland perhaps.”

Emilie loved to tease him about is fashion calls.

“Who is the fashion designer here?” He said with a mock stern tone.

“Speaking of fashion, that costume that you were wearing. That didn’t look like the peacock miraculous.”

Gabriel’s tone shifted to genuinely serious. He figured the time would come to answer that question.

“It is the butterfly miraculous. After your...departure. Nathalie and I investigated the temple where you and I had found the peacock miraculous. We discovered a new miraculous, one that wasn't damaged.”

Gabriel felt a twinge mentioning Nathalie. When he had rushed to bring Emilie up here, he felt guilt and relief that his assistant wasn't in the bed. He would have quite a difficult time explaining that one, even if nothing happened.

“So with that miraculous you were trying to find a way to bring me back.”

“It was a means to an end.”

Emilie processed the information she was told.

“Gabriel, I want you to do something for me.”

“Anything.”

“No more miraculous. None.”

Gabriel blinked.

“But...”

“Those jewels are nothing but trouble. It has only caused our family suffering and pain.”

Gabriel was surprised by the claim, but he knew she was correct. The miraculous have been quite the curse on the family, despite the powers they gave.

“It will take time for me to stop using it outright, there is a... situation with how I’ve been using it. Your sudden appearance and the disappearance of Hawkmoth might be suspicious.”

Emilie looked at Gabriel intensely.

“Hawkmoth? Gabriel what did you do?”

“Well... in order to try an bring you back, the butterfly miraculous wasn't going to be able to accomplish that goal. So the only way I could bring you back with certainty was to attain the ladybug and Cat miraculous.”

The former actress listened as her husband explained how he became a super villain for the sake of getting the jewels.

“Unbelievable.”

“I admit, explaining it makes it sound a lot worse than it actually is. I planned to fix any damage caused once I got the jewels”

“And what if people found out your identity!? You would have been thrown in prison and left our son an Orphan!” Emilie pointed her finger in his chest.

“It was the only way I could think of to attain the miraculous. How else would I have been able to confirm the miraculous were in Paris?”

Emilie was ready to let him have it. But she felt herself calm down. She had to admit, in a weird way, it was quite romantic. Something out of a tragic romance novel.

“I should be angrier with you, but I know if the situation was reversed and I had a way of bringing you back, I would have likely tried the same thing, albeit in a smarter way.”

Gabriel felt a bit of relief seeing his wife not so cross with him.

“So we figure out how to orchestrate your ‘Defeat’ and then we say good bye to the miraculous for good.”

“We will plan it out when you are completely better. Though this does raise the question. How are you back?”

Emilie pauses, she tries to think back.

Protect the Agreste family... no matter what.

She heard that phrase echoing in her head. But she couldn't figure out why. Who said that to her. Why is everything so fuzzy?

“I don't know... I remember hearing glass shatter, and a flash of blue. But the next thing I remember was... seeing you.

Gabriel looks at her, he could tell from her eyes she was telling the truth.

“I will look into that later. In the meantime, you should rest. I will check on you in a few hours.”

He moves the empty tray from the bed.

“Wait.”

Gabriel stopped.

“Get Adrien here. I want to see him now.”

“Dear, he is in school. It will dismiss in a few hours. Besides you should rest.”

Emilie got up from the bed.

“Nonsense. Ive been resting long enough. I am sure Adrien can miss a few hours of school. I want to see my baby boy.”

Gabriel wanted to find some way to dismiss her request, but he knew he couldn't say no to her. She was far to headstrong and determined... and man did he miss her.

“Okay, I will have his driver go an pick him up.”

“You aren't going to pick him up yourself?”

“Emilie I have work to do. Besides that is why we have...”

“You can take some time off to bond with your son. Seriously, you need to stop putting up walls Gabe-y.”

Gabriel took a calming breath to compose himself.

“Very well. But do use this time to rest.”

She moves to kiss her husband.

“I promise.”

Gabriel’s expression turned into a soft smile.

“I will be back with our son shortly.”

Gabriel left the room to go pick up Adrien.

Emilie smiled as she moved to vase of roses. She picked on up and sniffed it.

The rose in her hand began wilting and shriveled up.

She looked in the mirror.

“Everything went perfectly.”

______________________________________________________________________

End of part one

(Should I continue? Let me know your thoughts)

[tiny-candies-and-cookies]

here is the fic i was writing last night! it’s over 1000 words i am so proud of myself hehe

words: 1449

Summary: a little thief sneaks into a dragons hoard and get’s more than they bargained for.

           The little thief snuck through the halls of the abandoned castle, all they had to do was get to the main hall, steal some gold, and then get out of there, that was it.

           … and not get caught.

           They had been forewarned about the big dragon that lived in the abandoned castle, and how he was protective of his hoard. But the little thief wasn’t worried, they’d been doing this for years, they didn’t get caught then they wouldn’t get caught this time.

           They turned a corner and found the entrance to the main hall, there were gold coins spilling out from the door, the thief smiled and silently ran over. Before picking any of them up they heard a sound coming from the main hall, peeking in, they saw him.

           Lounging in the hoard of coins, jewels, crowns, and jewelry, was a large, fat red and gold dragon. Luckily, he was fast asleep, snoring loudly, and moving a little subconsciously.

           The little thief moved back from the doorway and pulled out a bag and started putting the coins into it as gently and quietly as they could, didn’t need to wake up the dragon.

They got a good chunk of change in their bag when again they looked back into the main hall, at the dragon. They lingered their gaze on his gut, probably full of all the previous knights and thieves that had come in and either gotten caught or were foolish enough to try and defeat the dragon. Must be quite a few of them, his gut was huge, and moved up and down gently as the dragon breathed.

They had been staring for a bit now, and didn’t notice where they were stepping, they stepped on a chalice that was laying on it’s side and as it rolled out from their foot they fell hard into the pile of coins, themselves gasping loudly, and the coin pile making a loud CLANG as they hit it face first.

The little thief got up quickly, far too quickly and far too loudly. They looked back at the dragon…

only to lock eyes with him.

The little thief turned to run but the dragon moved too fast for them, and they were suddenly plucked up by their tail. Dangling from their tail in the dragons claws they were brought into the main hall, and were face to face with the big dragon, his fiery eyes burning holes into theirs. The dragon resumed his position in his pile, falling back with a CLANK, he looked the little thief over, still holding them by their tail.

The little thief squirmed and cowered a little as they were looked over, they wanted to think of other possibilities for their fate but judging by the dragon’s fat gut right under them, there wasn’t much left to the imagination for them.

The little thief supposed they’d just have to hope he wasn’t hungry at this moment.

ggGGRGRGROOOOORROORRWWLLlll…

hm! Well shit!

The little thief’s face warmed at that sound, embarrassed at that was what they were going to be reduced to, a grumble in his gut and nothing more.

They eyes were suddenly taken from his gut to his face as they heard him chuckle deeply.

“Aren’t you adorable? You can’t take your eyes off me.”

Goodness he could talk to? They weren’t warned about that.

The little thief squeaked and covered their burning face with their hands, now extra embarrassed, how long had they been staring?

The dragon chuckled again, and the adjusted them in his claws to be grasped gently by their whole body, their arms free to move, however.

“no need to be shy,” the little thief peeked through their fingers. “I’m not going to do anything to you yet.”

Yet was the keyword there, he could fully decide to just pop them in his mouth and have it be done with. They settled on uncovering their face and placing their tiny hands on his large claw that wrapped around them, and looked up at him, his eyes seemed less dangerous now.

“now,” He began, “I’d like your name.” the little thief swallowed nervously.

“Rat, sir.”

“Sir? How quaint.” He laughed and placed his thumb on top of their head, squishing them a little bit. “should have known it would have been little vermin crawling around in my hoard.” He smirked, showing off his sharp teeth, and whatever remark Rat had was thrown out the window when they saw them.

“Secondly,” Rat pulled themselves from staring at his fangs when he spoke again. “I’d like to know what you were crawling around in here for.” He licked his lips. “just the treasure, or were you thinking about taking me on? You’re quite small for a warrior, you know.”

Rat huffed and frown at that last comment, they were a great warrior! But nevertheless, answered his question.

“just the treasure sir, was hoping to get in and out. That didn’t really work out, as you can see.”

“No, no it didn’t did it?” he teased, he brought them closer to his face. “Now, a final thing,” he purred in his throat, though to Rat it sounded more like a growl. “Give me a good reason to, and I’ll let you go, otherwise,” he paused to lick their face, making Rat splutter. “it’s down the hatch with you~”

Rat wiped their face and racked their mind for a good reason, mostly coming up blank.

“W-well you see sir, I-I’m, I’m uh,” think of something Rat. “I’m too small! I won’t even be filling!” they nodded in agreement with themselves. “I’m too small to even be worth eating, s-so you might as well let me go and you can get back to napping, hoarding or, or. Or WHATEVER you do all day!”

And they had given him a reason! And now they just had to wait for judgement.

The dragon hummed and seemed to think it over, and then loudly sighed.

“Alright, that is a good reason,” he said, Rat sighed in relief. “but not good enough.” Rat quickly switched back to panicking.

The dragon slapped them into his mouth, and Rat scrambled for purchase in the slick new environment. He closed his mouth so they couldn’t crawl out, and proceeded to toss them around in his mouth, tasting them and soaking them up for the journey.

Inside Rat was disoriented and all wet, yelping every time that tongue of his moved them around quickly, at least he was careful with those fangs of his.

The dragon tilted his head back, but didn’t swallow, as a final tease he opened his mouth, giving Rat a look at the room’s ceiling. Rat reached for the outside, a little hopeful they were being let go after all, only to be swallowed down in one go.

Rat whimpered as they were squeezed further into the dragon, and they soon found themselves in a large pocket, up to their waist in bright goo; it was emptier in here than they thought it would ‘ve been. Rat felt the dragon pat at them through his gut and then rest his hand on top of them, they squirmed against it angrily.

The dragon chuckled, which felt weird as it vibrated all around Rat’s small body.

“No need to be so upset little vermin, you’ll be fine.”

Rat punched the wall.

“fine? FINE?! YOU ATE ME!” They kicked this time. “That doesn’t end FINE!”

The little assault they were doing in him wasn’t hurting, they were too small to hurt him even from in there, so he wasn’t bothered by it. He simply pressed a bit hard onto them to stop them, and while they squirmed a bit, they did stop trying to hurt him.

“You’ll be fine,” He repeated. “You’ll go, but you’ll come back unharmed, perfectly fine.”

Come back? What did he mean by that? Rat figured they’d just let it happen, if he wasn’t lying and they’d be fine, then they supposed it wouldn’t be too bad.

“will it hurt?” they asked shyly, they didn’t want it to. The Dragon stopped pressing in on them and began rubbing his thumb over them gently.

“No, it’ll just feel like falling asleep, I promise.”

Speaking of sleep, the dragon yawned, stretching a little before settling back, keeping his hand on top of Rat. Rat themselves curled up, not exactly sleepy but willing to rest now.

Maybe once they where back, if they came back, maybe they’d sneak back into the castle and pay him another visit. He wasn’t all that bad for a dragon that ate people.

…And maybe try and get those coins again, they kinda needed them.

[elliewritessometimes]

IT’S @mattieswheelers BIRTHDAY!!! HAPPY BIRTHDAY LOVELY WE LOVE YOU SO MUCH

beCAUSE of this, myself and @notsomightymightytiger decided to steal tea leaf’s time travelling mattie au and create a whole entire fic with their ideas and also a design that @ari-is-anxious did a while back!! hope you enjoy aaaaaaa <3333 aLSO stabbies try and spot as many starboard references as you can heheheh 

this can be read on ao3 here if you prefer the format :)

tw: swearing, murder (it’s minor and resolved tho jsgh), religion (nicco my love read with care), blood, i really hope i haven’t missed anything please do let me know if i missed anything

-

Mattie had always been able to time travel. For as long as she could remember, her walk-in wardrobe had been lined with silver metal and held no clothes at all. As a child, this made it all the more exciting, though as she grew older and actually started to want to own clothes, it became a little inconvenient. She supposed all great inventions came with some kind of sacrifice.

Her uncle had made the time machine as a gift when Mattie was born. Her parents, like any basic adults, assumed the wardrobe-sized box was simply a toy and had taken no interest in it. Mattie, from the age of about three when her curiosity had really set in, was the one who discovered that the machine was in fact a working portal and not just a children’s toy. Since then, she had been happily travelling time and space during the darkest hours of night.

(You may have entirely valid concerns about a three year old having full access to time travel - luckily, not just for Mattie’s safety but also that of the entire human race, her uncle had set what were effectively child locks on a lot of the controls. These were diminished the day that Mattie turned thirteen. Uncle Calvin had always been a little weird, but he certainly wasn’t heartless.)

-

Usually, Mattie’s time travel didn’t affect her life. Sure, it made for some pretty awkward conversations as Mattie spurted some knowledge which could never have been explained through a textbook, but those could often be blamed on watching too much Horrible Histories as a child (“Mattie, I swear to God, you’re so bageling British, and yet you’ve never been there, I don’t understand.” “Horrible Histories is a masterpiece! You’re just jealous that you’re too American to have seen it.” “Actual asshole of a child.” “Farrah-!”).

It was going well until Mattie’s freshman year at Giles Corey. And then three of her fellow highschoolers were murdered. And suddenly Mattie had a way to prevent that from happening.

In some stroke of luck, she passed out at the sleepover and didn’t find out about the murders until she was sitting in the back of a cop car, driving to her house to pick up her things. She remembered thinking how weird it was that she wasn’t being taken straight to the station, but brushed that away in favour of ‘going into her wardrobe to change out of her bloody clothes’.

The time machine was cold like it always was and that forced her out of her muddled state quickly enough. She thought back to the victims. Chess. Farrah. Clark. Snapping on her goggles, she pressed a button, whirled backwards through time and space, and appeared at the gate to Riley’s neighbour’s house.

She really wished that she had actually changed her outfit - the damp blood turned cold with the breeze and sent shivers up her spine. The smell perhaps or just her sudden appearance startled the neighbour’s dogs into a frenzy. A figure, Chess, unharmed and merely confused instead of terrified, stood up from Riley’s bench, calling into the darkness. Mattie’s breath caught in her throat. The second figure, knife glinting in the dim streetlight, slipped out of the back door. Their red hair shone in the reflection of the knife with a sick kind of beauty.

Mattie could have stopped them there, taken the knife from the assailant’s grasp, prevented the tragedy of the evening. But she didn’t. She just watched.

Three minutes later, after arriving back in her present time and pressing yet another button on the wall of her closet, she watched the same scene unfold in the bathroom with a much younger victim. Twenty minutes after that, the third attack. This one was different though, an accident.

Still a little desperate and overly conscious of the police officer standing guard outside of her bedroom, she reappeared in her wardrobe, putting on a jumper before turning back time a little further. She appeared in a gymnastics centre as a girl around Mattie’s age did wolf turns on a beam. A coach entered the scene from the sidelines as the girl stopped spinning, her distinctive plait falling still against her back. Something in Mattie ached at the sight of Chess so lively and innocent, willing to give up her life for her dream of succeeding in her sport. As the two wandered into a side room, picking up water with a smile, Mattie edged forwards, collecting soft gym mats as she went. Within minutes, the area surrounding the beam had been double layered with cushioning, and Mattie could only pray that her plan would work. She’d seen enough YouTube videos to know what happened next.

Chess emerged again with her coach, hopping back up onto the beam with practiced ease. Again, Mattie was forced to just watch as she went down into her wolf turn, then rose up, did a split leap across at least half of the beam, and jumped into a twist to land on the floor. It was a messy landing, the gymnast’s ankle caving in on itself, knee twisting unnaturally in the air, before coming down hard onto her side. But, unlike in the previous videos, there wasn’t a resounding crack, only a weak cry of pain as Chess stumbled back to her feet.

Mattie grinned despite herself as snippets of conversation drifted her way.

“-not broken, don’t worry-”

“The Olympics seem out of the picture…”

“Get her a drink to numb the pain! Yes, limeade’s perfect-!”

Mattie arrived in her room again with a whole plethora of new information just inserted into her mind like it had been there all along. There was no longer and never had been a police officer outside her door. Her shirt was clean, her head undamaged. Chess didn’t go to the Olympics, but still did gymnastics in her spare time as her knee made a full and quick recovery. Farrah wasn’t dropped. Riley, in some weird twist of fate, went to the same therapist as Mattie. Life was… good for the Giles Corey Tigers.

Across town, the sleepover was still going ahead as normal. From what weird memories she just gained, Mattie knew that the team was at a rocky patch, their personalities still clashing in any iteration of the evening. But, with some relief, she knew that it would never in this timeline be bad enough for murder to even be considered as an answer. Her phone buzzed. The lies came easily as she covered up her mysterious disappearance from the sleepover she should currently be at.

Reese (school): Where are you???

Mattieeeee: I went home :( not feeling good

Reese (school): :((( that sucks

Mattieeeee: Ikr. I think it was the ice cream.

Reese (school): I told the others

Reese (school): They all say get well soon apart from Kate and Cairo who actually agreed on something for once haha

Mattieeeee: What did they say skjghdjh

Reese (school): “Tolerate the lactose, Wheeler.”

-

In her short-but-actually-quite-long-given-all-the-time-travel life, Mattie had witnessed a number of key historic events (and had caused about 85% by some small accident, but that’s a story for another time). The one which ended up unveiling her secret to someone in her actual life occurred overnight one February. Or maybe July. Depends. Time is weird.

She stepped into a small room, luckily through the doorway and not awkwardly through the window, as done many times before. A man sat hunched over a desk by the window, dressed in brown and using a pen-but-not-really-a-pen to craft a page of writing. From Mattie’s extensive historical knowledge, it could have been anywhere from 1000 BC to the 16th century.

“Hello, excuse me,” she began, “But I’m a little lost.”

The man startled, his not-really-pen skidding across the page and leaving a trail of thick ink in its wake as he blinked at her in the doorway. “Who are you?” He seemed perplexed as to how a young girl was standing there, in the opening to his room, in clothing not of any time now or before.

Something that Mattie had realised after travelling not only to different times, but also to a vast number of different settings around the world, was that somehow, she was never stumped by a language barrier. Instead she was always able to fluently converse with those she met in what appeared to her as American English. It was really weird; she tried not to think about it too much or it made her head hurt. She’d also learnt that it was best not to explain her full situation to her companions, becoming accustomed to pulling the classic ‘I’m not here, you’re just dreaming’ excuse. So that was exactly the tactic she applied here. “A dream figure. You don’t need to be afraid.”

The man narrowed his eyes, glancing down at the paper and then back up to Mattie’s face. “That’s a good line.” He scribbled her words down onto a scrap piece of papyrus. “Maybe I can use that later.”

Mattie grinned, sensing her chance to fuck up history just a little bit. “What are you writing?”

“How the world came to be,” the man explained. “God.”

“Ah, of course. The Bible, huh?”

“Pardon?” The scribe locked eyes with Mattie for the first time, confusion etched clearly on his face. She shook her head in response, having learnt that it was hopeless trying to explain events of the future to people who could never even begin to imagine the future that she came from. Seemingly satisfied, the man continued. “As the vision you are, I wonder if you’ve been sent to answer my queries.”

“Of course. Go ahead.”

“I’m struggling for a name. Not for the book itself, but just for this chapter.”

Mattie smiled as wisely as she could. “What do you have so far?”

“‘Generational Crisis’. The chapter describes how our world came to be - the creation of natural elements, the first humans, the beginnings of emotion. ‘Generational’ as it shall be carried on for generations, and ‘crisis’ as it’s a huge event, a crisis for the higher powers.”

Mattie choked. Her mind imagined a world where the entry chapter to the Bible was named as so, and it was a world of chaos and highly differing language choices. “That is very wise, sir. I have one suggestion: how about shortening it? Make it snappier, more catchy. I’m thinking…” She paused, feigning deep thought, “‘Genesis.’”

The man gasped, scrawling her word down at the top of the papyrus. “Genius! Thank you, child. I should write your name in my finished book, to show my gratitude for your kindness.”

“Mattie, sir, Mattie Wheeler. It’s been lovely to meet you and see your studies.” Over the centuries, Mattie had learnt to leave those she met with some kind of reassurance as the humane aspect of her hobby. “Before I go, I may be a dream spirit, but I can assure you that the work you have done right now shall be greatly appreciated for thousands of years to come.”

“You really are a wonder, perhaps a child sent from the power above.”

Unthinking, she snorted, replying, “Oh, boy, you are not ready to hear about Jesus.”

“Jesus? You mean my sister’s husband? I do hear some curious rumours about the man…”

Mattie hid her laugh behind a hand. Of course, this was hundreds of years before Jesus Christ came to be thought of. “I know, right? Jesus? More like JeSUS.” The scribe didn’t reply, mind clearly tired of its confusion and instead turning back to something it knew well. He picked up his writing patterns again. Mattie turned away, back to the doorway. “I will leave you to your writing again. Sleep well.” Leaving a small vial of dissolved sleeping pills on the desk, she stepped out of the door.

-

The only class that Mattie knew she would see Eva in was Religion. They didn’t actually share the class, but Mattie’s Religion teacher was Eva’s form tutor and the older girl often used the classroom as a quieter study area for her free period. Not that Mattie would call a class of thirty sophomores particularly peaceful, but apparently she hadn’t heard the noise of the senior study area, you genuinely don’t understand, last week Jacob Thomas tried to make toast using the sun on a desk and then, bam, the entire of senior year are creating chants about sun bread, it was so weird, Mattie, I transferred to a school of crackheads.

After her travel to the 7th century AD, Mattie sparked a sudden interest in her Religion classes. Eva, being the older sister that she was, watched closely as the sophomore stayed behind after class to search the Bible for something in particular.

“What’re you looking for?”

“Nothing!” Mattie didn’t look up from fervently turning the pages.

“Well, that’s a fucking lie.” Eva perched on the side of a desk, sliding across to snatch the book out of the younger girl’s hands. “Why the hell are you looking at what is essentially the movie credits for the Bible???”

Eva watched as Mattie bit her lip, eyes darting around the empty classroom. She thought for a long moment, visibly debating points in her head, before leaning over the top of the book to run her finger down a list of names. About a third of the way down the page, she stopped. Eva’s eyes followed her finger as it drew a circle around a certain name. Matte Wheyler  

“See. I was looking for that.”

Eva didn’t say anything for a while. Mattie waited with baited breath as Eva’s brain tried to make sense of what they saw. “Mattie Wheeler, what the bagel.” It didn’t bother to even be a question.

“It’s a really long story.” Mattie slumped onto the desk as well. “Hey, did you know that ‘Genesis’ would have originally been called ‘Generational Crisis’ if it wasn’t for me?”

After a glance at both of their timetables, they decided that their next lessons (biology and latin respectively) were worth missing. Instead, they stayed seated on a desk in the Religion classroom, as Mattie explained in detail how her name came to be in the Bible. It was refreshing to finally spill her secret after fifteen years of complete silence, and Mattie wondered vaguely in the back of her mind if one day Eva might be able to share in her time travelling adventures. That might take a little more explaining though, because Eva sure did have a lot of questions.

“So, you don’t change anything?”

“Not anything major. Like, I can’t stop Hitler or anything, that would change too big an event. Little things, however, like names and stuff, it’s fun to mess around with. Ever wondered why the Italian city, Pisa, has its name? I delivered pizza to the guys who were kind of like the government at the time of its naming. Hence, the Leaning Tower of Pizza.”

Eva cackled. “Wait, what?! God, dude, that’s nuts. What the fuck.”

“What can I say, all I really want in life is a little bit of chaos and also mozzarella sticks.”

-

Mattieeeee sent a photo.

evanescence: is that??? abraham lincoln????

Mattieeeee: Abraham Lincoln was an otter.

evanescence: how so?

Mattieeeee: Point one: look at him.

Mattieeeee: Point two: no seriously. Look at him.

evanescence: oh my god

evanescence: i cannot believe you have a literal selfie with abraham lincoln that’s fucking wild

Mattieeeee: Perks of the job :D

evanescence: literally hire me i want a selfie with cleopatra

-

farrah o’satanic ritual: yall i got out of the shower like an hour ago and i still haven’t changed

Imposter: What can I say, bath robes are in fashion rn

farrah o’satanic ritual: ive told you before clark stop pretending you know how to dress

Mattieeeee: Farrah did you not die in the shower?

katherine: ????mattie???????

farrah o’satanic ritual: no?? i didn’t

SmileyRiley: dang it

katherine: riLEY-

caicrow: riley i thought we’d moved on from murder

Imposter: Plot twist: Mattie was the murderer all along

katherine: CLARK-

Mattieeeee: oops-

-

It wasn't meant to happen, she swore up and down it was a mistake. A true and honest accident. And it kinda was? I mean Mattie hadn’t intended for the scaffolding on the new tower being constructed in Pisa to wobble, she’d already fucked up Pisa once in her career, but… Well, that's what she got for letting loose Giles and Corey (her occasional time travelling companions, who also happened to be cats) in the middle of a Italian city in 1252. She could have sworn the catnip was safely concealed in one of the pockets inside her jacket (which was filled with all sorts of trinkets from her travels in the space-time continuum), yet somehow the two had still gotten into it. She guessed that's what she got for not hydrating-feel-greating and eating-to-defeating.

An old citizen eyed her suspiciously, taking in her struggle with the two cats. Or maybe she was just more focused on Mattie’s goggles - she doubted anyone in 13th century Pisa had seen such a bold fashion statement before. The tower continued to lean in the background.

Finally, Giles and Corey settled down, each in a pocket of her trench coat. Mattie breathed a sigh of relief, which only got halfway out of her before she was sucking it back in as the old lady from across the street began to approach her.

“Young lady.”

Mattie smiled sheepishly. “Hello, ma’am. Is everything alright?”

The lady looked mildly amused. “I couldn’t help but notice your two cats going mysteriously close to the tower before it started collapsing. You wouldn’t know anything about that, would you?”

“Oh, no, ma’am. My cats are very well behaved.” Giles gave a resounding yelp at exactly the wrong time. A hiss from Corey echoed from the opposite pocket.

“Well,” the lady grinned, “If that’s the case, why don’t you leave the animals with me? You seem fairly preoccupied with the tower - perhaps you can try and assist its reconstruction?” She held out a hand.

Mattie thought for a moment and then handed across the two cats. “Thank you ever so much, ma’am. I’ll try and be quick.” The woman nodded and Mattie sped across the square to the drastically swaying tower.

When she arrived back at the woman’s table, there was a second lady in animated conversation with her. As Mattie approached, she stood up to take her leave, pressing a kiss to the first lady’s hair as she left. Something was definitely fruity there.

“All fixed!”

“I’m glad.” The woman nudged the cats back to their owner, looking intensely over Mattie’s shoulder to the stabilised tower. “It certainly looks sturdier.”

“I should hope so.”

The woman narrowed her eyes. “Sometimes,” she said, staring pointedly at an area on the structure, “I think about crabs.”

“Oh?” Mattie tilted her head. “Do you?”

“Yes. And often when I think about crabs, I think that they shouldn’t be in Pisa, and they most definitely should not be crawling over the tower.”

Mattie gasped and followed her gaze, muttering curses under her breath. “I didn’t realise I’d brought a whole crab with me! I thought I’d taken the sea life off the rocks!”

The woman chuckled. “You seem to be a strange character. Child, where on Earth did you find not only rocks large enough to support a tower, but also a live crab in Pisa?”

Accepting her fate, Mattie decided to tell the truth. “They’re from Egypt.” At the woman’s questioning look, she expanded, “I’m a traveller of sorts.”

“Oh. Well, child, you’re a gift of a traveller. Brightened my day. Italy these days is far too serious. Maybe we should put more crabs on the leaning tower, huh?”

Tucking her cats back into their respective pockets, Mattie allowed herself to laugh. “Maybe we should.” With a nod and a smile, she wandered off, eagerly awaiting her portal.

-

“Why were you in Egypt anyway?” Eva asked as Mattie recounted yet another of her time-travel-gone-wrong experiences.

“Library of Alexandria.”

“Oh, yeah, because that explains so much.”

“Shut up.” She rolled her eyes. “It was 48 BC, Caesar was burning shit, this random Roman dude set fire to the library.” She pulled a book out of her backpack. “I saved this and stashed away a few of the slabs of rock. And apparently a crab.”

Eva took the book in awe. “Jesus Christ… This thing is, like, thousands of years old…”

“I know, right? Weird.” She watched as Eva flicked through the pages, tracing her finger over certain words or illustrations. “But it was such a beautiful library, I couldn’t let it just burn. So, I retaliated. Burnt the house of the soldier who set the original flame.”

“Mattie!”

She shrugged. “Setting someone’s house on fire is a survival skill.”

“Oh my God.”

“I would have done something more dramatic, but I had to get home. I had a cake which would need to come out of the oven.”

Eva laughed, the sound echoing around the empty classroom. They were skiving class again, this time PE, the one class they had which coincidentally fell at the same time for both year groups. “How are you so normal in school, but so badass when you time travel?”

“I dunno. All I can say is that cake and spite are my only motivators.”

“You’re like a superhero. ‘Time Travelling Mattie: The Only One Who Can Lead A Dual Life Successfully’!!!”

Mattie blushed, shrugging. She definitely needed to take Eva with her one day. A superhero duo. “Okay, that name needs some work. How about: ‘Sanchez And Wheeler, The Ultimate Time Travelling Duo’?”

“I think I like the sound of that.”

“Yeah?”

Eva nodded, shaking her hand like they were signing a business contract. “Yeah.”

[iwillhaveamoonbase]

Flowers

My lone submission for the Rayllum Valentine’s event.  Warning: this fic contains mentions of post-partum depression.  Canon-verse, but does involve Rayla still being ghosted 

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Rayla growled in frustration as she threw the letter in the fire.  “Ray-” Callum murmured from the side, holding their week-old daughter. Aisling was the most beautiful thing Rayla had ever seen, with her father’s green eyes and brown hair with ten fingers and ten toes.  The most elven thing about her was the little horn stubs on the top of her head.    

“Don’t, Callum. Please.”

“We’ll make them understand.”

“How?!  You freed Runaan, Lain, Tiadrin, and many others from those coins.  We saved Zym and reunited him with Zubeia.  We defeated Aaravos and it’s STILL NOT ENOUGH.  They will never unghost me and let me go back home.” Rayla felt the tears pricking at the corners of her eyes and tried to hold them back, but they poured out. “And now I’m getting hormonal and just…UGH.”

She didn’t resist when she felt Callum come up behind her and wrap his arm around her waist.  “I’m sorry, Ray.  I don’t know why they are being so stubborn.  You don’t deserve this, but no matter what, you have me and Aisling, and Ezran and Soren.  You ARE home.”

“You don’t get it.”

Sighing, he moved away from her.  “What don’t I get?  Didn’t we agree that this is your home now?  Didn’t we say that, no matter what, we are each other’s home?”

“And I stand by that. But you cannot possibly understand what I am going through.  You still have your home.  You haven’t been banished and you can come and go as you please.  I need weeks of planning to not only go see my parents, but if I want to see my childhood homes, nobody can see me.  My culture, my language, everything, is basically lost to me. You don’t get it.”

Callum was quiet for a while, perhaps minding their daughter.  Rayla winced as she continued looking at the fire.  Wrapping her arms around herself, she felt even more terrible. She didn’t feel like she had taken to being a parent nearly as well as Callum had.  Maybe she wasn’t meant to be a parent.  She loved Aisling with everything she had, had carried the halfling in her belly for nine and a half months and delivered the child for hours, but she was also crying more, angered quicker, and didn’t stop Callum from getting out of bed at night to tend to the baby.  If anything, she hoped he would so she didn’t have to.    

Callum finally came back to her and wrapped both his arms around her.  “You’re right, Ray, I don’t get it.  I cannot understand your pain and frustration.  And now that we have a child, I’m sure your feelings have only grown stronger because you want to share all of those things with her.  But I have to believe that we can make them welcome you back because I’ll hate them if I don’t.  We’re trying to forge peace and hate doesn’t belong anywhere near that.”

“I haven’t even thought about how it would affect Aisling.  Gods, I’m a terrible mother.”

“No, you aren’t.”

“Yes, I am.  I gave her a Xadian name and she can’t spend time in Moonshadow territory?  She’s cut off from half of herself and I’m sitting here thinking about how it affects me.” Rayla felt the panic rising in her chest.  “Callum, what if she hates me?  All I do is fuck up with her.  I’m not bonding with her like I should.  She already adores you more and I’m just there.”

“Look at me. Please.”  Slowly turning, Rayla raised her eyes to meet his, shocked at the tears in them.  “You aren’t fucking up.  You’re having a hard time, but that’s not that weird.  You heard Sabah and Amaya.  Most new mothers feel like this, and if it lasts longer, we’ll get you help. It doesn’t mean you’re a bad mother or something is wrong with you.  What did the mid-wife say?”

“That birth is traumatic for some and it takes longer to heal the mind than the body.”

“What else?”

“That, because I don’t have a support system from my home and my culture, I’m more at risk.”

“I’m so sorry that this is happening and I wish I could fix it for you.  I would fly into Silvergrove now and make them take you back if I thought it would work.  But you are not screwing up with Aisling.  She’s not cut off from half of herself because she has you.  If you want to only speak to her in High Elven, I will support that.  If you want to teach her to read it, I will find books every time we go to Xadia and ask Janai for some.  I’ll order ingredients from Xadia so she can have Xadian food.  I promise, I will do what I can to give you both a connection to your home because, even though we are each other’s home, you do still need a connection your culture.  Aisling does, too.”  Wrapping her arms around him tight, Rayla’s shoulders shook as she silently sobbed in his arms.  Callum kissed the top of her head and held her close, rocking her side to side as he so easily did their baby.

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Rayla rolled her eyes as she stared at the curtains Callum had pulled over part of their bedroom. He said there were changes coming to the garden and it was a surprise so she wasn’t allowed to look.  It had been several months since the Council’s latest rejection of her return to Silvergrove and she was slowly starting accept that she would always be rejected.  All four of her parents had visited Aisling and had adored their grandchild, promising to visit as often as possible and give her a connection to her culture. Lain and Tiadrin were even considering permanently moving to Katolis so they could be more active in Rayla’s life and make up for lost time.

Stroking Aisling’s cheek with the back of her fingers, Rayla held her bairn close.  Sabah had been a big help in the journey into motherhood, visiting often and letting Rayla freely voice her concerns and fears. Months ago, Rayla had feared the judgmental eyes of others for not being close enough to her child, but she was slowly learning that it really was different for everyone.  Tiadrin had shyly admitted she had had a hard time post-partum with Rayla as well; lying in bed for days on end and Runaan and Ethari and Lain having to check in on her.  She still felt like a failure some days, but her child was healthy and growing with a flush on her cheeks.  “I love you, even if you do wake me and your father up.  We need to get you sleeping through the night, wee one.”

A knock of the door interrupted her gentle scolding, causing her to look up.  “Princess Rayla?”

“Aye?”  

“Prince Callum requests you and Princess Aisling join him in the garden.”

“We’ll be there.” Standing up, she held Aisling close and left her bed chambers.  The trip to the gardens was a short one, but Callum had covered all the windows so Rayla couldn’t accidently get a peak at what he was doing.  “We’re finally going to see what your father has been up to.  I’ll bet you five whole jelly tarts he built a pond just to practice ocean magic.”

“I would take that bet.” She turned to the side to see Callum waiting for her.  “Ready to see the surprise?”

“I’ve been ready.” She turned to the glass doors leading to the garden and waited for Callum to open them.  He smiled at her and turned the handles.  As the doors opened, Rayla was hit with the smell of moonlilies.  She hadn’t smelled that scent outside of soap in years and her eyes watered in nostalgia and happiness.  Callum had planted a whole field of them as well as having built a gazebo.  “How did you do this?”

“Well,” running a hand through his hair, he gave her a sheepish smile, “it certainly wasn’t easy. The Council is being so stubborn with unghosting you, but I managed to convince them with a letter a day to let me have enough moonlilies to do this.  I told them that it was the least they could do for the mage who had decoined several of their citizens.  I know it’s not the same thing, but, at least, you can now have a piece of home right here in Katolis.  Let me show you the gazebo.”

He led them over, hand on the small of her back, and Rayla marveled at all the flowers before her. Moonlilies only bloomed at night, but their scent was still unmistakable.  The gazebo was wrought iron and featured multiple Moonshadow knots and symbols.  There were cushions and benches for sitting on.  “I could spend all day here.”

“I’m glad.”

“Thank you.  This is the sweetest, most thoughtful thing anyone has ever done for me.”

“I love you, Ray. This is our home, and, I hope, I made it feel a bit more like home for you.”

“You did.  I love you, too.”  

The three of them spent all day in the gardens, having lunch and dinner in the gazebo and later joined by Ezran and Soren.  Sabah, Marcos, and their child joined them as well, Sabah’s heavily pregnant belly leading the way.  Rayla and Sabah chatted in their mixed High Elvens while Callum made his attempts and the little one in their group hung on every word.  It still hurt Rayla that she couldn’t go home freely, but she did feel a bit more at home now.  Maybe one day, she would get to show Aisling and any other children she and Callum had Silvergrove and other Moonshadow territories.  Until then, the gardens would do quite nicely.

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This fic is something of an ode to my mother who had post-partum depression and had no real support system (family more than a 1000 miles away) besides my father and an ode to my grandmother who had her last child in a country and a culture that were not her own and who regrets not teaching her children more about her language and culture or about my grandfather's (English was the common language between them, so that's what they spoke in the house). I tried to convey their thoughts and feelings to the best of my abilities and to bring in the realties of raising a child in a multicultural, international relationship.