#I will owe you whatever fic you want me to write if you can track this down

[frownyalfred]

if you find fic about the superbat fusion i'd be eternally grateful if you'd share with the class

agh anon, I’ve been 100% unsuccessful. I’ve been scouring ao3 and there’s not a single superbat fic under the “body merge” tag???

[twisted-wonderland-but-gayer]

Request-ish for great 7 au if you dont mind, but what kinds of pictures do you think the g7 keep of yuu? Whether in like a photo book or their wallet or whatever? (Also if you dont mind maybe what their favorite photo of yuu is as well?) Love your writing have a good day!

A Picture of Yuu

Trying to ease myself back into writing and decided to try this out as a semi request! Gn yuu per usual, minot spoilers for ch 2— This is based of my Great 7 fic Unit:Yuu!

Notes: I do not know what kind of Arab Jafar is Aba/Baba for him, please let me know if this incorrect—

Queen of Hearts + Jabberwock

The Queen of Hearts has always been a zany one to say what photo she has of you that she adores on any given day would be difficult. In short, she loves them all!

It is such a shame that instant photography wasn't a thing back in her era, she would have taken so many photos of herself and Wonderland and she would have loved to show you all of them, it would certainly save the Jabberwock from having to explain so much.

The Queen watches you from afar as she drifts into her own thoughts. How she would have loved to take you into Wonderland with her and have your portraits done together.

Perhaps you could take your camera with you and you both can record all the memories you make together? How fitting would it have been to have photos of you in your wackiest poses and outfits up on the walls without having to get each one painstakingly painted?

She watches you rest the Jabberwocks head on her lap, and a smile graces her face at the sight of her little Rose with her greatest warrior. Should she still have her kingdom, she would have barked orders for the royal painter immediately.

Perhaps she doesn't have a favorite photo or picture of you because it hasn't made it yet, and as you take a photo of you and her with the Jabberwock all together (a photo you will undoubtedly hide from Crowley), she realizes she would never be able to find a favorite, as all she wants to now is to keep taking more.

Scar + The Hyenas

Scar has seen Rafiki's artwork before, and he was never impressed by the crude cave paintings he made, especially the ones that represented him.

If Rafiki were to have made one of you, however... he wouldn't know how to feel.

Even then, he much prefers these cameras and their strange instant paintings, after all he has never looked better in them! They really catch his good side!

Scar would huff in faux uninterest when he sees you pointing the camera around and taking photos of those three idiot hyenas around Ramshackle. And when you take photos of him he certainly doesn't strike a pose on purpose! (He snarls at Ed who even thinks about mentioning the idea.)

Still even as you show all of the photos you took, even of the ones of you, the hyenas, and him, it can never compare to the old "photo" of you and him together that he keeps hidden.

Cub is what he called you. To him, you were one. He was teaching you how to hunt with those Hyenas, how to sneak up on your prey and attack, and your victorious smile as you helped them take down a gazelle.

He remembered his muddy paws dragging across stony ground as Banzai carried the gazelle carcass with him, the group of hunters having to take it to the fire so you can eat.

Scar noticed how you suddenly stopped in your tracks and stared down at the ground. Annoyed, Scar huffed telling you to hurry up, and when you went on your knees and poked at the ground below you he snarled and circled back to you

That was when he noticed you were staring at his paw print in part of the ground. Your child self seemed to glow when you saw it, and you took your own muddy and bloodied hand and put it right over his print as if comparing sizes. When you took it away, he saw your small handprint right on his.

He may have actually have had a soft moment with you then and there if it wasn't for the hyena's prodding. Upon seeing the hand and paw print, Ed immediately remarked on how he wanted to do that too, and put his own next to yours, then Shenzi and Banzai, ever competitive, started arguing about doing the same, shoving each other out of the way to put their paw down as well.

In the end, all of your prints were together in a way that oddly resembled Rafiki's dribble. "Are you all satisfied now?" He huffed, snarling, "Now go! All of you!" He barked making the hyenas walk off and you follow. As you all walked off he tore up that part of the stone from the ground and carried it in his mouth, following the cackle closely behind with it.

He despised the way some child managed to worm his way into his heart and yet here is years later with you all grown up, and he still has the stone tablet hidden away for his eyes only. He refuses to let you see how soft he has gotten for you.

Shenzi definitely knows of it and tells you about his secret, prompting Scar to try and kill her.

Ursula + The Eels

Oh dear, now that's a question all right.

If it was up to her and she was able to have had you down in Atlantica, she would have hung so many paintings of you and her poopsies on her grotto walls, your chubby baby self was adorable, you know?

She often has fleeting thoughts of being the one to have brought you up under the sea. Just her a single mom and her three kids as her accomplice in villainy. How she would teach you how to brew the most powerful potions and run a good business...

Even now, she watches the curious glint in your eyes as you explore NRC and takes photos of everything, she's happy you have started to discover who you are.

You naturally take a lot of photos of her new makeup looks, along with your eel brothers wearing matching drag with you. She loves to pick up the Polaroids and commits them to memory, swiping her thumb over herself along with her children's faces lovingly.

It was during one of your weekly drag/makeup nights together. You had on some dramatic trashy show in the background as you all talked and did makeup. You kept one of your eyes closed ad Flotsam hangs on your neck like a scarf, using his tail to hold a brush and dab on eyeshadow while you work on Jetsam's eyebrows. Ursula smiled at the sight of her children bonding.

The peace didn't last long, as you made a particularly shady remark about that crow bastard causing Flotsam to cackle and squeeze you slightly, and Jetsam to slap you fave lightly with his tail.

As the Sibling Codex states, you all now must duel in a free for all and allow no survivors. There are no rules to uphold any honor.

Standing up, you pried Flotsam's body making him loosen the grip around your neck, and flung up the arm that Jetsam was anchored on.

Comically, the dangling eel slapped the camera sitting on the coffee table up from where it was and snap a photo.

"Jetsam! I swear if the camera is broken—" "Hey you're the one that flung me!"

Picking up the camera and looking it over you let out a breath of relief before checking out the film that came out

"Come here dear let me see..." Urusla spoke as you walked over.

Though slightly blurry, the photo featured all of you. You had a bright smile on your features as did your siblings who were smushed into you as fashionable accessories. In the background, Ursula sat elegantly admiring her children. And though she wasn't the center of the photo, she loved to see her children happy.

Were she were back in her grotto, this photo would have been displayed as one of her most prized possessions.

Jafar + Iago

It wasn't often he dreamt, but when he did, he dreamed big. He was Sultan of the Sands and the most powerful sorcerer of all with you as his heir by his side. Sure, Iago would be there too he supposes...

He would rule with an iron fist and bring about a Golden Age for his kingdom while tutoring you on the side, teaching you laws and ideals and the most powerful spells he knows. There would be all sorts of depictions of the two of you, mosaics, tapestries, poems, paintings, and perhaps even a few statues as well.

You would both be depicted as you should: powerful and intelligent... and Iagos there too he guesses...

So imagine his surprise when his favorite photo isn't a pretentious one at all.

When you first got your camera, he took pride in being photographed and always posed his very best, he wouldn't stand for any unsightly photos you may try to take. He would stand tall with Iago on his shoulder and staff in hand, evil and powerful. He would hate to be depicted as anything less.

As you set up the ghost camera on the stand, you start to take a few experimental photos as well as test out the timer function on it. Honesty it was thanks to Jafar it worked, his intuition and knowledge of technology were always remarkable.

"Any more trouble from that device, Yuu?" Jafar's voice snaps you out of focus as you turn to him standing in the common room, Iago perched where he usually was. "Nope not anymore, thank you Baba" you smile as you check out the camera again.

"Want to try and take a photo with me to test it out?" "If you mean one of those 'selfies' I will have to refuse!" "No, no, not like that I promise!"

Arching a brow and heaving a sigh Jafar relents. You get to work setting up the camera before running over to pose with them. You watched as the timer counted down... 4...3...2...

Suddenly, you throw yourself into Jafar in a deep hug as Iago squawks indignantly. The flash goes off. Sputtering for a moment as he takes a moment to adjust himself, he huffs. "What was the meaning of that Diamond?" Jafar snaps as he shoots you a glare. "Yeah that's the big deal?!" Iago cawed.

You smirked as you snagged the Polaroid out of the camera and aired it out with a few shakes before showing the pair.

The photo showed you pulling Jafar closer to you, holding onto and nuzzling into him dearly like a toddler would do their mother. He actually wore the slightest smile in the photo. Iago's wings were spread and for once he looked like the lively bird he was and not some villainous lackey.

"I have a lot of photos of Jafar and Iago, but none of my baba and my friend" You muttered holding the photo close to you. "But now I do, and don't worry it's for my eyes only... I would hate to ruin your image.

Jafar shuts his eyes for a moment, perhaps he was unintentionally and unknowingly strict. "No no, retake the photo, little one." He says as he holds your shoulder. "Let's take another photo as a family this time."

Jafar and Iago both sat on the rickety couch of Ramshackle as you set up the camera again before running back and sitting next to them. Iago hopped into your lap as you hugged the vizier. Jafar looked down at you both lovingly before wrapping his arms around you gently, allowing the camera to snap, and like that, his favorite photo of you was made.

Queen Grimhilde + The Raven

Ever since staying in Ramshackle, the Evil Queen would dream about being back home in her palace. She would walk down the halls of rooms and for a moment pretend the floors were stone and echoed with her steps and not creak under her weight. The walls were to be lined with intricate decor and tapestries along with art, and as she walks into your room to look at the mirror, she imagines it's her vanity where she would admire herself.

Raven stood on her shoulder preening her and she shut her eyes imagining the glory days when she ruled but this time she imagines herself with you at her side.

How you would sit on the stool in front of her vanity and look at yourself in the mirror as she clasps a necklace onto you after she finished dressing you up. How you would walk beside her amongst the guards and servants as she enters the throne room which used to have a lone throne but now has two.

How you would both sit regally as she deals with nobles and teach you how to rule with an iron fist and to be your worst possible self. How she would take you to her garden and poisons and teach you how to grow and use each one, later taking you into her study to practice your potionology.

You deserved much better than this place in her eyes, and once she gets her body back she will ensure you both rise to power once again. Even if you are currently living in a... less than ideal situation she will have you carry yourself with the same level of respect and pride she feels like you should have.

She shows you which plants can be used for hair and skin and makeup. She shows you how to embroider your clothes and sew. She shows you proper manners for everything as well— no child of hers will be taken for a slob. Your elegance hides your wild side and villainous upbringing well, only showing it to those who are worthy.

Her ghost sits across from you in the guest room, a glass of tea poured out for her in her honor though she can't drink from it. You finish up your latest piece as you push the needle through a few more times. Letting out a breath of relief, you tuck away the needle and hold out the new dress shirt you made in your preferred style. "Good work," she says approvingly as the Raven lets out a squawk, and you both continue to chat about your day.

The next day, you put on the shirt you worked so hard on, slipping on the right pants, shoes, and homemade accessories to match. Today, your mother decides to help you put on some light makeup, her ghost guiding your hands to apply foundation.

She then helps you put on your accessories and she is reminded of the fantasy she had the other day. "Thank you, Mama." You say smiling. "I guess this is my first official... complete outfit..." You didn't any decent clothes to start with since coming here, and even when you wore nicer things, you could never truly make it your own, you couldn't have your own style. Yet in the mirror you see all of your hard work put into sewing and saving, creating an outfit from your mother's love.

You look at yourself in the hand mirror you own as the Queen holds your face lovingly. "Shall we take a photo to commemorate the occasion?" You ask, smiling. "Ah yes, that ghost camera of yours can see me, can't it?"

You nod and begin to set the camera up. The Queen never cared for the photos it took, preferring the status symbol of oil paintings in her castle. As you stood next, she helped to pose you at the perfect angle, adjusting your posture and such as she stood beside you, hand on your head.

The photo came out, and it was as perfect as she would imagine it to be. Admiring it, she thinks back to getting her power again and her castle back, and for some reason, the first thing she imagines doing is to recreate this portrait with you, this time in paint, and the highest quality clothes you want.

Hades + Pain & Panic

His favorite photo of you? One where you look your best, one where you look powerful and strong and— oh wait his favorite photo of you?

When Hades found out the ghost camera can register him, he and his imps were over the moon. You best believe you had to make him look cool. (You gave in because Hades was never given the same respectable portraits compared to his family).

Every photo of him portraying him positively... touched my heart. He wasn't the unwanted brother or the laughing stock, outcasted and forgotten. He was Hades, God of the Underworld.

The imps also loved any photos of them taken positively, but they also didn't mind the funny ones too. Honestly, these two were absolute menaces with the camera, often stealing it and taking the worst photos of you.

Though you have some photos of yourself, or with your friends, none of them ever truly called out to Hades. He would simply see some as neat or use photos to lovingly bully you. Yet when he thought about it, all of his siblings seemed to always have some sort of art piece representing their children, he remembers Zeus and his insane amount of photos of his brat when he was born after all. He can't help but sort of desire one... but what?

For a good, while he can't help but look at all the photos you take and pay special attention to the ones that you were in— you best believe that if you have a photo with one of your friends he's gonna tease you for your "boyfriend".

As he goes through them he tries to find one that feels like it shows off his kid well, yet he can't. You look good in all of your photos, but you didn't feel like you. That's the one thing he's noticed since coming here. You couldn’t be your true self, you weren't allowed to bare your teeth and be truly free the way you should be.

Hades actually stews on this for a while silently, Pain and Panic bother him about it much to his chagrin. As the days went by Hades seemed to get more and more and more annoyed by your environment sucking the life out of you. Homework was annoying, Ramshackle sucked, and that damned crow bastard keeps dumping responsibility onto you! How is his kiddo supposed to shine like this?!

Recently, Crowley dumped another annoying task onto you— something stupid about looking into clumsy kids. You hated it but got Pain and Panic ready to help you as you went about interviewing victims and such. It was rotten work.

Maleficent + Diaval

Eventually, with your idiot squad, things picked up, and you came up with the idea of catching the perpetrator with your camera, as Crowley states he needs evidence. One thing led to another. Here we are in the Savanahclaw Dorm, facing the lion down face to face. Pain and Panic stood on either side of you as you stood your ground, stance widening to prepare for a fight.

And fight you did. Hades watched in absolute awe as you fought against the blot, rolling and sliding past attacks while seizing any opportunity to get a hit or to create an opening for your friends. Pain and Panic both helped, occasionally lashing at Leona to throw off his aim or providing your some healing and shielding with their shapeshifting abilities.

As the dust settled, and the sun rose higher in the sky, your silhouette stood amongst the rubble as you panted, fists still clenched. You had a powerful aura around you along with a steely gaze as you stared down at the lion beneath you. Panic suddenly pops up, ghost camera in hand as he snaps a photo. "How's that for proof?" he snickers alongside Pain as you finally relax.

The photo standing over your opponent had exactly what the other photos of you lacked. There was a fire in your eyes, a confident stance, and though dirt-covered and sweaty, you were unapologetically you in the moment. Not to mention badass.

Yet that wasn't the only reason Hades adored it. The image reminded of him Zeus' brat he despised. How that damned Hercules would be painted and shown off everywhere as a legend with his powerful stance, often standing over the slain monsters that Hades meticulously put together to defeat him.

And yet... here you were: A mirror image of him, a perfect foil. And unlike Hercules, you were still here and so was he. That brat failed to kill him. Through his child, he has won... Ha! Take that, Zeus! Just wait for round 2! This time, he won't fail.

Maleficent is also one who doesn't understand newer technology. She simply can't wrap her head around a device that makes portraits instantly without magic. After a bit of explanation from Diaval (who still doesn't know much), she simply accepts it.

Like Grimhilde, the Fae much prefers painted portraits, and often finds herself imagining how you would look in one every time she sees one of your "selfies".

The Fae Queen finds it endearing that you want to take photos of her and your dear uncle Diaval, trying your best to make some good memories in this miserable place. Even on your nightly walks together, you bring your camera with you to photograph the wildlife around you.

Seeing your features light up just by seeing the smallest bug makes her feel a strange sense of pride as if this proves you belong to her and the forest of the fae. She's glad to know that enjoys nature just as much as her.

Passing by a small pond, the three of you pause for a moment. Diaval, in his crow form, is happily perched onto your shoulder, nuzzling and preening you as you give him a few scratches and look up to the night sky above you. As your eyes reflect the stars, Maleficent is reminded of a fond memory.

You were a child at the time, to be honest, she couldn't tell you how old you were, at her age, all children start looking the same.

The fae was coming to terms with being a ghost— a ghost stuck inside a child no less— and she certainly did not appreciate it. How could such a pudgy and idiotic vessel possibly be worthy of the Mistress of All Evil?

She would sneer at the idea of growing attached to you. Even as your child self waved and smiles at her, she snarled in response, baring her fangs at you. To her surprise, you merely giggled. She wasn't amused.

No matter how many times she snapped and told you to go away, or order Diaval to distract you, you would always come back to her eventually. She just didn't get it, why do you like her so much?! Under the guise of not wasting her breath or energy, she stopped trying to distance herself from you, allowing your small baby hands to play with her cloak or touch her horns. You were a curious little beastie, weren't you?

She remembers watching you grow up little by little, watching your kid self play with Diaval as a crow and give each other affection, how she cast protection spells on you as you ran through the forest barefoot, cursing any sharp stones you may step on.

She remembers guiding you as you picked berries and copied the animals you saw. She remembers singing you lullabies and telling you stories of her home, hoping she could take you to it. Her warnings about trusting men.

She remembers how unequivocally she fell for the child that melted her heart, and how she assigned Diaval to you, making him promise to always watch out for you and to serve you as he did her.

And she especially remembers how you approached her with a scribbled-on, crumpled sheet of paper. You babbled as you held up the piece to her. Kneeling down with her usual stern expression, she examined the scribbles closer.

Crude lines depicted an all-black horned figure holding a staff in one hand, hand awkwardly stretched out to touch hands with the tiny figure in the middle. An attempt at a blackbird was drawn in the other outstretched hand of the child, its best open in a caw. All of the figures had clumsy smiles. Arrows pointed to all of the figures labeled 'Me' 'Malycent' and 'Diovl'

Diaval perched on Maleficent's shoulder, getting the best look he could before swooping in and nuzzling your kid self. As you laughed and giggled Maleficent allowed a small smile to grace her features as she watches you play.

To this day, she still has the piece of paper in her cloak, enchanted with the strongest protection spell she could do in her current state. In her mind, no other portrait than the one you drew could ever compare.

Perhaps one day when she rules from her thorny castle, she will have this art piece framed in her study, for her eyes only.

[joels-shitty-puns]

The Key To Your Heart - Track 4

Pairing: Pedro Pascal x Musician!Reader

Gif by:@sh214

Series Summary: After writing your feelings for Pedro into a song, it gains a lot more popularity than expected. Ultimately it brings both criticism and support, with new possibilities around the corner.

*! New warnings will be listed first !*

Series Warnings: 18+ only (MDNI). Mentions of food, weight loss, weight gain, dieting, weighing, potential eating disorder, food guilt. Potential for puns/dad jokes (name of my blog, and the fic) should give that away. This is my first fic which should be its own warning, lol. Also some cursing. Mentions of masturbation (f) maybe more smut later idk. Sadness, reader is pretty depressed. Poor body image. Rude people. Bullying-ish and just lack of support? Anxiety. Age gap! Reader is in her mid 20's, Pedro is current age (48).

Other stuff: Reader is plus sized. AFAB. Inexperienced. Also has a dog, but you can pretend it is another creature probably. Further, in case it isn't clear, italics almost always are the reader's inner thoughts!

Word Count: ~2.3K

Series List: Here!

Miss last chapter? Here!

Hi there! To those of you who have read and are still with me, THANK YOU! I love you all. I'm sorry that my chapters are taking longer and longer. Work has been a bit more hectic lately and I also just had some serious writer's block with this chapter. That being said, it feels a little rough and I apologize if its awful lol. But either way, thanks for hanging in there with me and please let me know what you think! Your comments make me happy!

__________

You groaned, stepping out of bed and drifting towards the bathroom. Your face was sticky and your eyes stung from crying late into the night. It was silly, naive, and frankly stupid… but sometimes you can't control how hard emotions hit. Seeing that Pedro didn't actually watch your video was a let down - to put it mildly. Obviously he's a popular guy. A star. He has better things to do.

You should be grateful he even responded to your Instagram message before. Even though it hurts, surely he has more interesting things to do than message someone like you. Just because you wrote a song and he said he liked it doesn't mean he owes you anything more.

So after a fitful night's sleep, you were utterly exhausted; physically, mentally, and emotionally. Luckily, it was still your weekend and you could rest today. 

More like spend the day wallowing in your self pity… you think, disdainfully at yourself.

Looking in the mirror, you notice your puffy eyes. There's some new acne, and a mop of frizzy hair on your head. After using the toilet, you step on your bathroom scale before your shower; a morning routine you started during years of dieting. Another 3 pounds. Up again?!

You look in the mirror, pinching your stomach with a sigh. I guess I shouldn't have had those cookies yesterday…

The food guilt creeps up as you think of the goodies you've eaten recently. Cookies yesterday, fast food the day before. You were bitter that you weren't one of those people that could just magically eat whatever they wanted without gaining an ounce. 

But you aren't, and you should know better. 

Frustrated with your appearance, you begin your usual internal debate about how to fix it.

Maybe I should go back on the diet…

But the diet caused you so many problems. Remember the stomach issues? The hunger? The lack of joy? Binge eating on cheat days until you were sick?

But! I lost so much weight!

Yeah, until you started gaining weight…

Maybe I didn't cut enough. People said I looked so good. I was *almost* skinny.

Maybe people would like me more if I was skinny… Maybe Pedro would like me if I were skinny. There's no way he would be with me looking like this.

These were the debates that plagued you for months… years… a lifetime.

You showered, tears beginning to flow again as you tried to push out the thoughts. He was probably just busy, but either way you knew you didn't have a chance. 

Your friends were right. You were an obsessed fan. It was… concerning, as they said. They pitied you when you felt sad about your feelings. Just find someone you actually have a chance with, they pushed. Someone real.

But... he did message you. Maybe he didn't even know you had an interview yesterday? Maybe he watched it later. You were being utterly ridiculous. It didn't matter anyway.

But what you didn't know was that Pedro felt just as disappointed. He wanted to be the one on your list. The one you loved. He went to bed just as mopey as you did and woke up just the same.

_____

Having washed away your bad feelings as best as you could, you gave Skipper a kiss on his little forehead and made some coffee while scrolling Instagram. You were nervous to see what people had to say about your interview, but you had to face the music eventually.

As you could have predicted, people were running through the potential suspects (or prospects, that is) who have brown curly hair and brown eyes. Some supported you and loved your interview. Others criticized you for being too chicken to show yourself. 

You weren't used to this level of attention, and you really weren't sure you enjoyed it. But you were grateful to have your two lives kept separate, your true persona still shaded in privacy.

What you did not predict, was a notification popping up from Pedro, interrupting your scrolling. Forgetting to breathe, you immediately clicked on it. If the message were food from the oven, you would've burnt your hand the way you grabbed it so fast. 

Perhaps I should've been a little more chill about opening this so quickly... Oh well.

Pedro Pascal messaged you: "Hey! I watched your interview yesterday. You did fantastic. I know fame is new to you and you're nervous, but you're a natural."

Your heart swelled. He did watch it!! He must have just been busy during the live stream.

You replied: "Pedro! You watched it!?! Thank you so much. That really means a lot to me."

Pedro read your message immediately, but instead of sharing in your level of excitement, he was hit with a wave of confusion instead. She must just be trying to not hurt my feelings. She already knows I watched it.. unless she didn't even notice my name. Or she didn't care enough to look for it…?

He decided to play along with it anyway. "Absolutely, I did. I've had it marked on my calendar since the day it was announced a couple days ago and watched it as it was streamed live."

His response took you by surprise, and then made you angry. If he really watched it, he would know that they gave you a list of the people who watched it live. Why was he lying to you about it?

You started to plan out your response, maybe even send an accusatory comeback, but then you thought about it again.

Why would he lie about it? What would he gain by lying? He messaged you.

With this in mind, you instead chose to take a different approach. One better designed for fishing. One you had to be very careful about, so as not to reveal the fact that you looked for his name.

"Wait!? You watched it live? I didn't see you on the list. You're one of the few people I've spoken to who actually seem genuinely friendly and interested in having a conversation with me. I had sort of hoped you were listening."

There. That doesn't sound too revealing, right? Totally friendly…

Pedro opened your message and was met with both confusion, and something else he wasn't expecting. Hope. Did you look for his name??

Still, he wanted to address the confusion. "You didn't see me on the list? That's odd.. but I'm sure there were a lot of names to scan through. Maybe my name was just buried in that list."

You knew it wasn't buried. He was the only name you looked for. The only name you cared about seeing on that list, not that you'd admit that to him right now. But you also didn't want him to feel that insignificant either.

"There were a lot of names, I'll give you that. But I swear you weren't there. Were you logged into your account? Maybe your Internet crashed, or you missed part of it?"

Instantly he remembered the ten or so minutes that Oscar interrupted him. 

Oscar!

"Oh shit! That's it. Oscar barged into my house while I was watching it and I slammed my laptop closed."

"Oscar… Isaac? Wait, why did you slam your laptop closed?"

"Yeah, that's the one. And… I don't know. He just surprised me, I guess. It wasn't a planned visit."

Slamming your laptop closed is an odd reaction to your friend visiting, but okay, you thought.

"So you closed your laptop, and missed a few minutes. And that must have been the moment they pulled the list of viewers."

Pedro replied. "It must have. But I was there, more than happy to listen to what you had to say"

If my name had been on the list, would her answer have been different? When asked whether the man she loved was on the list and she said no, would my name have changed anything? Pedro wanted to ask you these questions. But he couldn't. Not only was he scared, but he also didn't want it to come off as some douchey comment that made you uncomfortable. He wanted to get to know you better, even if just as a friend, and he wouldn't let a silly little crush ruin that.

You sent a response that could be deemed as friendly or neutral, still cautious. "Thank you Pedro. I'm really glad you watched it."

He replied without hesitancy. "Of course. But, I am sorry that your guy wasn't on that list."

He sounds genuine. Not like he's fishing for information like everyone else on the internet. In turn, you decide to be playful with your response. Risky, but still not too revealing. "It's okay. It turns out that list wasn't as accurate as I once thought it was" you typed with a smirk.

"So maybe he was watching after all," Pedro answered.

"Maybe he was."

Pedro soon changed the subject, "I did enjoy hearing about your favorite things, though. You may know this already, but I love movies. Some of the ones you mentioned are a couple of my favorites as well. But as for your favorite books, I haven't read them, but I've been meaning to find a new book to read."

The fact that he was a reader made your heart flutter; the thought of him sitting with a book, his glasses perched on his nose, brow furrowed as he stroked his thumb over his lip in deep concentration. You were overjoyed at the thought of him reading *your* favorite book and potentially having someone to talk to about it. Before you knew it, you had frantically sent multiple excited messages.

You: "Oh! If you read any of my favorite books we HAVE to talk about them!"

Second message: "AGH the first book I mentioned is my favorite, out of all of them. The ending blew my mind. And the characters were just so amazing! Well except for that one guy.. but I won't spoil that…"

Third message: "But my favorite character has the greatest lines!!! Sometimes I like to quote it but nobody else gets it. And the way the author describes the settings is so magical, it makes you want to be there."

Pedro caught himself smiling at his phone, wrapped up in your excitement, as you were finally able to talk to someone about your favorite book. It was adorable how happy you seemed.

He started to type a reply when you sent another message. "Shoot… I'm sorry. I got a little too carried away…"

"Who told you that?"

Huh?

"Who told me what?" You asked.

"Who made you feel like you had to stop talking when you became excited about your interests?"

His question took you aback, but your mind struggled to pinpoint the answer to it. There's been so many people that have told you that over the years. People you assumed were friends. An old crush who didn't like multiple text messages at once. Classmates who would complain or make fun. It was routine.

"Oh. It's not a big deal. It's just something I've heard over the years. But I also know how I get and I don't want to be too much. I'm sorry. I don't want to monopolize the conversation too much either. But hey, you didn't mention, what are your favorite books?" You tried to change the topic.

Pedro felt that protective feeling bubble up in his chest again.

"Over the years!? There have been multiple occasions?" Pedro shook his head, even though you couldn't see through the text. "I'm sorry anyone ever made you feel that way or said anything to imply that your interests weren't worthy of being heard. Fuck them. They should be thankful that you shared your interests."

They should be grateful to hear your beautiful voice get so excited. To get to see your excitement and smile, Pedro thought to himself angrily. He hoped he could someday witness you getting excited over your interests in person too.

"Thank you Pedro. But really, it's okay. I know I get a little… obsessive and crazy, especially with sending multiple texts, so I don't blame them. Haha. :)" you tried to soften the mood.

"I don't want you to ever feel that way with me. I liked hearing you talk about your interests."

You began to type, but Pedro beat you to the punch.

"In fact… if you'd like to talk more," he gave you his phone number. "Feel free to text me, or you can call me too. I like talking on the phone, but I know not everyone does."

Holy shit. Is this real life? Did Pedro Pascal just give me his phone number? And ask me to call him?

Truthfully, your introverted self really didn't like talking on the phone. But the idea of talking to Pedro, hearing his voice on the other end of your phone was too much to handle.

What you didn't realize, was that Pedro wanted it just as bad.

Your fingers danced over your phone keyboard, trying to find the right words for a reply. What do you say when the love of your life (that you didn't think you would ever have a chance with) gives you his phone number?

Pedro watched anxiously as the three dot-dot-dots of typing appeared and disappeared over and over. His heart was racing, and he began to worry he may have overstepped this time. 

Why did you give her your number? She's going to think you like her!!! 

But you do like her, you idiot, Pedro berated himself.

He ran his hand down his face, waiting for your response in agonizing suspense. But instead of hearing the pop of a notification, his phone began to ring instead, an unknown number displayed on the home screen.

Wait… is that her? Is she CALLING me?!

He answered frantically, practically dropping his phone in the process. 

"Hello?"

"Hello? Pedro? It's me.."

You heard him give a breathless laugh before answering with a gentle "Hi."

_____

Thank you for reading!! Let me know your thoughts :) More will be coming soon. I know this is a painfully slow burn lol. Thanks for being patient.

Next chapter! Here

_____

Taglist: (Want in? Let me know!)

@pedrotonin @starcrossed02 @lightupsketchersperson @cartoon-garbage04 @tyferbebe @maryfanson @gwendibley84 @faithfullyyours2000 @brilliantopposite187 @hc-geralt-23 @jenniferpendragon

[leiascully]

“I wish you would write a fic where…” — Scully is pregnant with (or has already had) baby 2, and Diana is somehow not dead & she comes back into the XF…. Set in either IWTB era (Mulder’s depression) or post s11 (the fall out of CSM and Jackson etc)

1/2

Here you go!

Scully’s in the office looking at pictures of baby Joy on her phone when she hears the knock. It takes her a moment to look up. Joy’s only been in daycare a few weeks, and the only person who ever knocks is Skinner. Instead, when she looks up, there’s a tall woman with an elegant grey chignon and a chic suit with a visitor’s pass clipped to the lapel. Scully’s breath catches in her throat. But it’s not Teena Mulder - it doesn’t even really look like her. There’s just something about the aura she brings that carries that same scent of graceful suffering, like a vintage perfume that’s spoiled somehow.

“Diana,” she says evenly. “Or is it Agent Fowley?”

“Hello, Agent Scully.” Diana gestures to a chair. “May I sit?”

“Be my guest.” Scully sets her phone on the desk, face up. Diana would know she’s recording their conversation. They’ve both learned to keep track of the evidence.

Diana glances at her screen. “She’s a lovely child.”

“Thank you,” Scully says without flinching. “She’s our little miracle.”

“Yes,” Diana says, “somehow they do find their way to you, these miracles. But I suppose you deserve them, after all you’ve endured.”

“Is it Agent Fowley?” Scully presses.

Diana demurs, sweeping away the idea with one hand before it returns to clasp around her crossed knees. “Fox might have returned from the grave to his former employment, but I had no wish to rejoin the FBI’s ranks.”

Scully smiles faintly. “That was a long time ago.”

“Another lifetime,” Diana says. There’s a glint in her eyes, a tension around her lips. Scully doesn’t respond to the jab.

“How can I help you, Diana?” She picks up a pen. “Assistant Director Skinner assured me they’ve upgraded the fire mitigation system, by the way.”

Diana doesn’t react. She seems to be thinking. “I suppose I came to talk to you,” she says at last.

“To me?” Scully tilts her head. “I’m not sure exactly what you think we have to say to each other.” She stares at Diana for a long moment, sifting through the memories. It’s been so long. Another lifetime indeed.

She remembers her last encounter with Diana, the oblique contact, the fear, the rage, the genuine sorrow. “I do owe you a thank you. You’re the one who left the envelope with information about where they’d taken Mulder.”

Diana stirs, as if she’s come back from the depths of her own mind. “Whatever you think of me, Agent Scully, I never wanted either one of you to die.”

Scully smiles, just a little. “Likewise.”

“I believed in the mission,” Diana tells her. “I believed it would save us all. I knew I was working for men in over their heads, but I didn’t see another way.”

“I know,” Scully says, and she does. She does, now that the world didn’t end. Now that the black oil has receded and the shapeshifters have vanished, now that the supersoldier project has been decomissioned, she understands the things Diana did, and why. She will never understand the rest, but she has that.

“I’m sorry for my part in what they did to you. But I wouldn’t change the choices I made.” Diana nods toward Scully’s phone. “For what it’s worth, I’m glad you got your miracle.”

“Thank you,” Scully says, and she means it.

They gaze at each other, blue eyes and brown. At last they have taken the true measure of each other, and neither is found wanting. The betrayals of their younger years are old scars now. There isn’t any pain there. It almost doesn’t matter who was right and who was wrong. They moved through different worlds. Of course their paths diverged. Scully, who has loved Mulder and lost him and fought her way back to him a hundred times, understands the urge to reach for him.

Beyond this moment, she knows they will never see eye to eye. She knows Diana knows it too. This is the peace soldiers only find in the middle of the battlefield, when the war is over.

“Thank you,” says Diana.

“For what?” Scully is startled.

“For standing up to the Syndicate, at great personal cost. If their mission was just, their methods were not. Spender’s least of all.”

“Jeffrey came back, you know,” Scully says.

“Yes. He always had too strong a sense of justice to stomach the work.” Diana leans forward just a little. “Thank you for taking care of him.” She doesn’t mean Jeffrey Spender.

“You’re welcome.” Scully’s voice is steady, somehow.

“I can’t say I was deceived,” Diana tells her. “I went into the work with my eyes open. But the world shifted. The plans changed. Whether I couldn’t keep up or I didn’t want to is irrelevant. I wasn’t given the choice.”

“You were a pawn to them,” Scully says.

Diana inclines her head with a economy of motion Scully can’t help but admire. It’s neither agreement nor disagreement, just an acknowledgment of Scully’s own truths. “Well. I’m not any longer.”

“Good,” Scully says.

Diana uncrosses her legs and stands up. “There’s no need to tell Fox I was here.”

“I assumed you came to see him.”

Diana tilts her head and smiles. “No, Agent Scully. My unfinished business was with you.”

They don’t shake hands. Scully watches Diana leave. She taps her phone to stop the recording and then cups her chin in her hand, staring into space. She wonders if Diana will be on the security footage. She wonders if anything has gone missing in the last hour or two. Maybe respect can look like paranoia. Maybe the past can’t be entirely overwritten, but the book can be closed. Maybe this is what peace feels like when a ghost is laid to rest.

Mulder comes in half an hour later and finds her still thinking. He sets a coffee down on the desk in front of her.

“Missing our pride and Joy?” he asks.

“Hmm?” Scully says. “Of course.” She comes back to herself and shuffles the papers on her desk.

“What were you up to all morning?” he asks, settling into a chair with the lazy grace he’s never lost.

“Oh, talking with an old friend,” she says, and it hews close enough to the truth.

[faebaex]

author note: woohoo assignments are finished so i can write again! also my first Riddle fic! i found his character quite endearing recently, i don't know why. i wanted to pair him with a more carefree, chaotic reader who'll help loosen him up since his overblot. so have some Riddle who still takes himself a little too seriously, who also doesn't understand his feelings (*≧ω≦*) i think its cute!

characters: Riddle Rosehearts x GN!Reader

"Off with your head!!"

The familiar sound of clanging metal resounded through the air before you felt a heavy weight settle around your neck. You ran a finger along the cool metal lock as your Housewarden glared at you, cheeks red with anger.

A small laugh bubbled from your chest before you gave Riddle a huge, glee filled grin. "Thanks, Housewarden! I've always liked how the collar goes with my uniform!" With that, you spun on your heel and walked off with a skip in your step, leaving Riddle sputtering behind you.

"Y-y/n get back here! I expect a 3000 word apology essay and--"

Your good natured laugh was the only response he received, sending his face redder and redder.

Ever since his overblot incident, Riddle had been trying his best to change his ways. He tried his best to not react so violently when rules were broken, to keep cool headed when things sprung out from his control. To his credit, he had been doing quite well. Sure, he wasn't perfect, but he was able to overlook small rule breaks, and was getting better at approaching slightly more serious rule breaking offences with more composure. But there was one exception.

You.

Riddle believed you had some uncanny ability to get under his skin. At one point he even theorised that it was your unique magic. All Riddle knew was that every time he saw your carefree smile, his cheeks would flush and his stomach would twist and turn into knots.

He chalked it up to anxiety you caused him with your antics. Yes, that must be it. That was the reason that his palms would sweat every time you approached him, why his throat would tighten every time you gave him an excuse for your behaviour, why his cheeks would suddenly heat up every time he saw your cute, little smile--

Riddle startled as that rogue thought popped in his head, feeling blood rush to his cheeks at the subconscious omission. He shook his head fiercely, as if that would chase away his illicit thought. Where did that come from? Whatever, it mattered not. He was your Housewarden, and as a student of his dorm he would bring you into order.

It had been a week since he had collared you and tasked you with an apology essay, yet he had not received it. Clearly you intended to continue your unruly behaviour, and he would nip this in the bud before your actions encouraged your impressionable freshmen friends.

It did not take Riddle long to track you down. He found you in the Heartslabyul lounge, sitting on the floor with papers fanned out around you. Riddle cringed at the sight, even if you weren't breaking one of the Queen of Hearts' rules, you were certainly breaking basic dorm rules of keeping areas clean and tidy.

"Y/N."

You looked over your shoulder, a smile blooming across your face at the sight of your Housewarden standing over you. You dropped the papers in your hand, swiveling on the tile so your back was no longer to him. "Hello Housewarden! How are you today?"

"Ahem. You owe me an apology essay, Y/N. Why haven't I received it yet? May I also remind you that such mess is not permitted in the lounge area." Despite his cold response, your smile didn't shift and you reached behind you blindly, grabbing hold of the papers you were previously holding.

"Oh! I was just sorting all of my homework into order by deadline. Because I haven't been able to use magic in class, I've been assigned extra homework so I don't fall behind..." you explained, having the decency to look a bit sheepish before your smile suddenly turned a tad cheeky, "since you didn't give me an official deadline, it hasn't been a priority. Sorry!"

Riddle's previous severe expression morphed into shock. You had actually attended classes, even with the handicap of the collar? He had half assumed you'd follow Ace's lead and skip your classes in hopes of getting your collar off quicker some other way.

"See, I didn't forget!" Your voice interrupted his thoughts as you waved a piece of A4 paper, which indeed was titled "apology essay to Riddle". Riddle's eyes slid past your face to the papers in your hands, and the further papers scattered around you.

"... I'm impressed you still endeavored to attend classes," You beamed a smile at him and his cheeks flushed, "h-however, I am not willing to wait much longer for you essay. In consideration of your circumstances..." Riddle paused, his traitorous cheeks flushing further as you looked up at him with hopeful eyes, "I-i will give you one more week. By the end of that weekend, I expect your essay in my hands."

If your smile was bright before, it was absolutely dazzling now. Riddle cleared his throat and started to step backwards, planning his retreat before his thoughts betrayed him again and he risked embarrassing himself. "Of course, I trust you will manage your time effectively to ensure all homework is completed on time."

"Thank you, Housewarden! And don't worry, that's what caffeine is for!"

Riddle's step faltered and he felt affronted, quickly whipping his head around to scold you, "Do not forget that rule 153 states that only herbal tea may be drank in the evenings!" Your carefree giggle floated through the air and you sent a wink his way, and Riddle felt his ears burn. How did you manage to make him feel this way with such simple gestures? It was maddening. He quickly stormed out of the lounge before he embarrassed himself any further.

You had been working through most of the nights since your conversation with Riddle in the lounge, trying to get through your mounds of homework. Ace mocked you and Deuce sympathised, but you didn't mind so much. Sure, you didn't have any free time and you were barely getting any sleep, but you'd rather not deal with a detention from Trein, or worse - Crewel.

You had decided to set your workspace up in the library today, knowing you'd be able to get through a fair bit of your work as Ace wouldn't follow you in here, and Deuce had club activities. But there was one thing you didn't expect...

With the library being so warm, and so quiet, you weren't expecting to get so comfortable. You were fighting against your drooping eyes, constantly having to restart the line you were reading when you realised you hadn't been paying attention at all.

... Perhaps it wouldn't be so bad if you took a nap. Just a little nap. Like, five minutes... Before you had even finished fully convincing yourself, you had already pushed your book back and rested your head on your arm. Yeah... You'll just rest your eyes for five minutes...

As you slept peacefully, way over the five minutes you had allotted yourself, you were completely oblivious to the person who stopped beside you and the sigh that fell from their lips. Your exhaustion played its part, as you didn't wake at the soft sound of shuffling, and didn't even twitch as a school blazer was gently laid over your sleeping form, simply cuddling into its warmth, much to the fluster of the one who laid it upon you...

[vroombeams]

hiiiiii kee!

✦ what was your easiest fic to write & your hardest?

anddddd

♫ send a fic and i’ll make a 3-5 song playlist for you

for the markoscar CNC gone wrong kinktober fic which i still owe you a proper comment on pls!

hello happy friday!!!

fic ask games one & two

✦ what was your easiest fic to write & your hardest? great question. difficult to answer depending on definitions of.... easy/hard. the hardest ones emotionally might also have been the easiest ones for me to execute? so the cnc ktober fic, free for all, maybe dream journal. and then like as far as Not a mixed emotion of hard/easy, pouffe was really easy for some reason? it wasn't particularly emotionally taxing and it just kind of spat itself out if that makes sense. the hardest i guess in that case would've been a place to rest your arms lmao at least partially because it was the first piece i posted on this account and it stressed me the fuck out trying to make it into something i like. and i still don't like it! the fics that feel like pulling teeth often feel the worst in the aftermath go figure 😪

♫ send a fic and i’ll make a 3-5 song playlist for you

i don't wanna do anything anymore, i'm scared - shrimp

man of oil - animal collective

capt midnight - tomahawk

moth - burial & four tet

popping explanations under a cut i guess??

the shrimp track in particular is like. well. how could i say no to eyes like that / how can i say no when you fight back sure is a set of lines that exists!! man of oil is a weird one but it's also like a very oscarmark song to me (coward and also a king / and a man of oil + you've got to have the tough guts / you're hung like a human and watch the young nuts grow) as well as just kind of miserable (strange sensation to be alive / i find it so hard to tell you / i'm afraid to forget the smell of you) capt midnight is uhhh less direct lyrically but vibes wise it's like, the first couple of tracks are you know. sad. sad sad hopeless whatever. and then this is that angry edge that would come up later after this scene lmao moth is. moth. moth is what i would have titled that fic if it were posted as a standalone. i wasn't listening to music while writing this piece because i didn't super want to associate the vibes directly with something, but if i were listening to anything it would've probably just been a bunch of burial

[jerzwriter]

Last Stop

Book:                   Open Heart (Book 2 Timeline)

Pairing:                Tobias Carrick x F!MC (Casey)

Rating:                 Teen +

Category:            Fluff/Romance

Warnings: Suggestive dialogue, not explicit

Summary:   The best friends just recently turned into a couple. One late night, they get into a battle of wills until they realize they've got nothing to debate after all.

Words: 906

A/N: This was so fun! I've been dying to use one line in this fic forever, and I finally got my chance (it's in bold if you're interested).

This is for Day 9 of @creativepromptsforwriting 's 30-Day Writing Challenge: Write about a heated debate. Also participating in @choicesjanuarychallenge Day 22 - Safe

Tobias x Casey Masterlist 30-Day Challenge Masterlist Main Masterlist

It was late. Very late. By now, Casey had lost track of the hour.  

His footsteps punctuated the silence as he rushed down the stairs, but she refused to look up as he headed her way, sitting on his couch, arms crossed in front of her chest, pouting like a petulant child.

“Let’s go,” he demanded, pulling his coat off a hook on the wall. “This isn't up for debate.”

She glared in his direction only to find him smirking her way. He raised his eyebrow with a cocky grin… something she'd typically find irresistible, but not tonight. Casey MacTavish was sleep deprived, and when she looked over at the man she had loved for much longer than the three weeks they were officially together, she felt nothing but indignation. 

“You’re being ridiculous!” She glared, refusing to budge an inch.

“I’m being ridiculous?” He laughed. “I’m sorry, princess, but I’m not giving you this round. And when you get more than an hour of continuous sleep, I promise you'll agree with me.”

“No, I won’t,” she frowned, coming awfully close to sticking her tongue out at him. Deep down, she knew she was being impossible, and that would only make the ribbing she'd endure tomorrow worse, but whatever common sense remained awake in her, it wasn’t enough to admit Tobias was right.

But Tobias was willing to take her to task, leaning against the wall with a sigh, he stated his piece again. 

“Look. I already told you, you’re more than welcome to stay the night. In fact, that’s my preferred result. But, if you insist on going home, I’m driving you. Period.”

“I don’t need you to drive me home!” She insisted. “I’m a grown woman! An adult! I know how to get home by myself!"

“I’m well aware," he insisted. “I never suggested otherwise.”

She rose to her feet and turned in his direction, stomping her foot as she talked. “Then stop treating me like I’m two!"

“I might stop treating you like you were two if you stopped acting like it. Case,” he grinned. "I love having a younger girlfriend… but this is getting ridiculous.”

He let out a small yelp as Casey somewhat kicked him in the shin.

“OW! Was that necessary?”

“I can take care of myself! I know how to take the T! Hell, I got myself to and from school in Philly when I was just ten. So, at twenty-eight, I don’t need you to take care of me!”

“I know you don’t! But when it's this late, you either stay over or let me drive you home."

“Why?”

“Because I love you, and your safety matters to me! Sorry, but you’re my girlfriend, and the only T you’re riding alone at this hour of the night is me!”

She wanted to fight back, but she couldn't help but laugh when his words registered.

“That’s what this is about. You want me to stay so I can ride you!”

He couldn't hold back his grin as he took her in his arms. “Are you sure you’re not drunk, baby?”

“No,” she whined. “I’m just exhausted. I get this way when I’m overtired.”

“Oh, this is gonna be a hoot then," he muttered.

“What?” she shot back.

“Oh, uh... nothing, beautiful. Look, Case, you’re an incredible, badass woman who needs no man, much less my sorry ass, to look after you. But we’re a team, baby, and I’d be a pretty shitty boyfriend if I let you take the train home alone this late when you’re this exhausted. Sorry, hon, but I have to make sure you're safe.”

Casey’s expression softened, and her head fell into his chest, relishing the warmth that surrounded her when he enveloped her in his arms. “You just want me to ride you,” she mumbled.

“All day, every day,” he chortled. “But that’s not what this is about.”

“OK, fine,” she groaned, stepping away from him. “I’ll take the T.”

Tobias looked at her incredulously. “Are you even comprehending this conversation?”

“I said I’ll take the T!” she giggled, pushing him against the wall. “I’ll stay over… and ride you.”

“Casey,” he laughed, “I know you’re tired… you don’t have  to….”

“Uh-uh-uh!” she silenced him with a kiss. “You’re not winning this debate, sir. I have enough stamina to ride you for a stop or two….”

“Oh, we can do plenty in that time,” he enthused. “So you’re sleeping over?”

“Mmm hmmm. I'll sleep after the ride, Dr. Carrick. Now get upstairs!”

“Yes, ma’am.”

“Oh, but, for the record, I won this debate!” She grinned. 

Tobias went to open his mouth, but then he thought better of it. He was getting his girl; she was staying the night, and he was about to play conductor in the best way he knew how. He knew who had the win. 

“You’re right, baby," He smiled. "You win. Now, let’s get upstairs!”

~~~

This was fun! :)

~~~

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Tobias Only: @icecoffee90 @kyra75

[separatist-apologist]

Okay, but that last anon scares me a little. I know I am guilty of going on breaks from reading fic and can sometimes not share everything and I worry about doing something like that anon went through, that I inadvertantly ghosted someone or made them feel like they owed me a comment or reblog in exchange for friendship.

I have ALSO been here. Wild, the fandom experience. I think we've probably all dropped a convo or lost track of something. I don't have a perfect solution for it and I don't think we need to drown in our anxiety either.

I know some people do expect a kind of pay to play type deal where they only speak/interact with you if you're complementing their work and otherwise don't care what you have to say. I think the vast majority of people here are not like that- you still talk to folks outside of your writing, and THEN you ghost them for whatever reason.

That felt weird to write but I hope you understand what I mean? Like, if you've ever been in a situation where its like, "thank you random citizen!" is the vibe of the interaction? They only want you around to validate their creative process but don't care about you at all? And if you stop beta-ing/reading/reviewing, you might as well be dead?

[simpjaes]

OH! AND I FORGOT TO TELL U THAT I ALSO WANT TO START WRITING FF BUT I DON'T REALLY KNOW HOW, CAN I GET SOME TIPS PLS 😭

-🌊

omg i def encourage others to write!! I'll do my best with tips but I've been doing it for so long that honestly it just kinda comes naturally for me at this point, so ill do my best!

first tip: decide on whether you want to be more free in your writing or more controlled. I switch between the two. For instance I'll have an idea and simply write from a single start point and let the writing and story in my head take me where ever, with no outline or guidance outside of a general idea, and I write until im satisfied with a good end point.

if you want to be controlled, I'd suggest writing an outline. it doesn't need to be super detailed, but mine do tend to be...lmaoooo, like for instance frenzy was VERY loosely outlined, and i mean like, i had like 6 sentences as the outline and a bunch of screenshotted texts from oomf, and that's literally it.

then like, this is me being very specific and controlled: lmao, look at this outline of a fic i've been working on for like a year and a half for my other blog:

so in that outline, literally every line you see there has THOUSANDS of tinier outlines for each chapter, day, and scene. i mean the outline itself is 32k words. and all of this was birthed from a single sentence idea in my head.

it really just depends on how much effort you want to put into writing. no one sees behind the scenes of it, so how you go about planning and progress is up to you and no one can judge you for it (ill kick them in the neck if they got shit to say)

man, this probably isn't making sense. this is probably why im so bad at training people in workplaces lol

anyway

second tip: do NOT worry about word count. Some of us are picky, me included, meaning i don't usually give a fic the time of day if it's under a certain word count unless under certain circumstances. this does not mean the fics i won't read are bad, it's just preference. but you need to be prepared to face the fact that some people will love your fic, and some will scroll right past it.

third tip: make banners and visuals. format your post so it is easy for your readers to find the information they need before reading it. such as warnings etc. this is also to gain interest, specifically so people can choose whether to read it or scroll away. (my marketing background comes into play help)

fourth tip: write a small description of the whole fic before you even write it. like try to sum all of it up in a way that anyone can understand, and alter it or rewrite it once you finish if you need to change it based on how the story actually came out. I find this super helpful to stay on track and to also get a really good starting point. this is why i always have spoilers or a small preview of my wips. even if they are changed by the time i post them.

fifth tip: don't stress. some of the best advice i ever got is to write like only you will read it, and post it like you'll get no notes or feedback at all. this is where passion drives you as a writer, and you become able to write whatever the fuck you want and don't panic at the fact that other people may not like it, or may have some shit to say. more often than not, people will read it. you need to have fun with it, it's not a job, it's a hobby.

we are writing for free, so do NOT cater to people who don't know you. you don't owe them any part of yourself or your growth as a writer, it is a privilege for them to read something you write, not the other way around :)

and LASTLY, don't steal ideas. if you are inspired by someone else, ask them, credit them. this includes writing fics based on someone else's hard thots, and even writing fics based on whore convos you might have with friends. always ask if the idea comes from someone else, especially if you have easy access to them.

[magicalrocketships]

tagged by @janinaduszejko

relationship status: this soul is an independent one, I like living by myself.

fav color: look, on the one hand I always want to DROWN in a really dark green, but I've also spent the last couple of months being OBSESSED with that kind of desert art duo of pink and pale blue teamed with a white or dark green (think Miami track colours for those people who can follow that specific thought process through, or the kind of colours you get if you google palm springs desert art).

song stuck in ur head: Let Me Drown by Orville Peck / Dwight and Duley by Cris Williamson (at first it was admiration // he found a friend in something less than good // he comes on the regular // he comes on the regular now) - I think it's actually a song about a horse during lockdown but as no lyrics exist on the internet for it then I'll just make my own assumptions thank u

last song u listened to: Funeral by Phoebe Bridgers

3 fav foods: Look, I like pretty much everything so narrowing it down is hard but Ken Hom has a beef green curry with aubergine in his old Ken Hom Cooks Thai cookbook and it's by far the best green curry I've ever had outside a restaurant, so. That. There's a place near me that does a breakfast bao, which is basically a sausage patty and egg and hash brown and sriracha in a bao and I don't want to throw down the location pin too specifically but if you know, you know. And my mum's lasagne with her bechamel sauce is my favourite thing to eat and it's always my first choice for my birthday meal (however close that falls to my actual birthday).

last google: um. well. before sriracha so I could figure out how to spell it, it was 'anatomical penis diagram' for this Max/Daniel fic I'm writing (don't ask), except my unexpected learning was that dicks have a muscle called the bulbospongiosus muscle, and -- aside from sounding like a pokemon -- I didn't know THAT existed before, so we've all learned something today.

dream trip: Right now I am too sick to travel, which sucks, particularly as I have a LOT of air miles from some judicious use of an air miles credit card for the whole of lockdown + beyond BUT the fantasy would be a) come hang out with friends in America again, it's been too long, and too many plans got put on hold years ago, b) some ridiculous train journey out of a mystery novel, like the Orient Express or whatever, some fancy sleeper cabin where porters carry my luggage about, and c) I'd love to go back to Dubrovnik, I loved it there even though i was very kidney-sick through that whole trip and should probably have been at home in hospital (jazz hands). That trip was years and years ago. It would be nice to go back (less sick this time). And like a million more trips because the world outside is fascinating.

anything i want right now: Be less unwell would be nice (and obvious) but other than that, the sky outside is SO pink and pretty right now, super lovely sunset. Unfortunately no one told me that moving so close to the sea would mean you had to wash your windows so fucking often because of the salt build up, so I'm looking at this incredible sunset through the grainiest, blurriest window. Magically salt-free windows. That's an achievable one at least.

tagging @easterwings (because I owe them an email and this might remind me to actually press send), @astorytotellyourfriends, and @allwaswell16, my goblin buddy.

[chelleztjs18]

First, how are you today? I hope you have a good day so that you can answer this message without making us start animosity or problem

Secondly, I appreciate your answer, as you understand what I said, but I am afraid that we are on opposite sides here ، I was a former writer myself and my message is not directed at you What I meant by attacking or I will not follow you and I will not recommend you to anyone else (I am not a hostile person the most I can do is say that you are neglectful to your followers)

Thirdly, there is a certain category of authors, I mean they are not busy or who have jobs, etc. I did not mean that some of them log in and publish things and write other requests, and I am like Did you not receive my order or is there something wrong???So I wait weeks and it really pisses me off

I'm ready to wait years, not just months, that's okay, I may understand your situation, but the simplest thing you can do is tell me that at least you'll write it down, or tell me you can't.

Don't make me look stupid, just tell me, that's all I ask I'd be glad if my letter angered at least some of the authors (the intended category) who'd start moving their asses and work on their requests.

have a great day sweetheart

-🌿

I was okay until i read ur ask.

Oh no, anon. I never start problem. The only one who started problem was u.

I will put a pict or link from your previous ask just in case some people missed it from yesterday that you started all this.

So u came to my inbox, n ranted a paragraph about how u r running out of patience or what u think about authors and u act like u weren't the one that started the problem?

How do u expect me to react at what u said yesterday? u said that it wasnt directed to me but u literally show up out of the blue saying all that stuff. Directed to me or not, I don't like what u said, I am an author and i have a lot of other author friends n of course I wasnt gonna stay quite about it.

yes, we r totally on the opposite on this. I'm on the author sides and u sound like one ungrateful bossy follower who r upset because us authors dont write ur requests or dont notify u.

The fact that u r a former writer, it makes u sound a lot worse. U should've understand or even know better that it's not easy to write fics, write requests, all while trying to continue things on ur life.

u say that u r not a hostile person, but telling us that we r neglectful to our followers sounds pretty mentally hostile. u hv no rights to tell that to us. No offense to my lovely n sweet followers, but we owe nobody anything.

most of us write for ourself but we gladly want to share it with other n like i said, taking request from them is one of our way to appreciate them n interact with them. I write to help myself from drowning in my depression but im grateful that people like my writing enough to even send requests n i appreciate every single one of them.

u don't know how our lives is or how our days are so u have no right to judge saying that we r lazy or whatever u wanna say. I dont have a job, i'm a full time mom n it still hard to find time to write.

it's our blog n we can do whatever we want. we can NOT notify u whether we will write ur request or not. like i said, u r on anon, how r we gonna notify u where we dont even know who u r.

I don't reply or notify if im gonna write a request or not because i try not to put people hopes up if i say im gonna write it but i end up dont write it, I dont notify or answer the request until i actually post the requested fic because i like to keep the request in my inbox so i can keep it in track.

we have the right to pick n choose what we r going to write.

n you know what? the way u call ur request to some author as ur "order", i hate it because u r not our boss or leader or king or whatever who order us what to write or when or tell us what to do.

n u have the audicity to say this "I'd be glad if my letter angered at least some of the authors (the intended category) who'd start moving their asses and work on their requests." ? why don't u move ur ass out of my blog and stop sending me entitled demanding narcisstic ask.

"Dont make me look stupid.." no, anon, we didnt make u look stupid. U, urself who make u look stupid by acting like this.

How dare u to come to my blog talking shit n trying to guilt trip me, making it seems im the hostile one or cause problem.

I am asking u nicely to leave my blog n u r more than welcomed to unfollow me or im gonna block u.

P.S: yes u angered us authors n no, it wont make us writing ur request if u act like this.

[sukirichi]

total opposites

You and Toge swap bodies after encountering a fairytale curse, and similar to its origin, it also takes a fairytale method to break it.

REQUEST. body swap au + best friends to lovers

CONTENT/WARNINGS. slight crack fic, some cursing, implications of nsfw but nothing explicit, just Toge being a not-so closet pervert, usual best friend bickering, reader is fem bodied, unedited story (I should stop saying this, everyone knows I don’t edit my stuff)

NOTES. I enjoyed writing this, tysm for the request anon, this was really cute! definitely this is shooting up in one of my fav works ever (ﾉ◕ヮ◕)ﾉ*:･ﾟ✧

You stretched your arms overhead, feeling great after sleeping in. It wasn’t common of you to sleep this late, but you and Toge had gone stargazing the night before. A smile made its way to your face as you reminisced him reciting rice ball ingredients, signing that he was telling poetry to ‘match the mood’ until you’d both fallen asleep on the soft blanket atop a hill.

You don’t remember how you made it back to your room, but figured that Toge had carried you back home before the sun rose. Making a mental note to thank your best friend later, you yawned as you padded out to your room, hands rubbing in circles at your stomach.

Hopefully breakfast would be amazing today.

The door next to you opened, revealing your younger classmate, and you frowned, because wasn’t Kugisaki your next door neighbour? Well, whatever, he, Yuuji, and Kugisaki might’ve taken advantage of the rare, peaceful weekend that they probably had a movie marathon the night before.

“Morning, Megumi!” you greeted, coughing a bit when you sounded off, throat a little horse and itchy. At the sound of your voice, Megumi stilled in his tracks, eyes wide at you. His comical expression had you barking in laughter, shooting finger guns his way as you wiggled your eyebrows. “Ey, be a good dog and bark for me, will you?”

Semi-visible sonic waves drifted like waves after one another out your mouth. Megumi scowled before he froze the next second, ears perked up and backside wagging in replacement of a tail. “Woof woof!”

“What the hell?” you reeled back in slight disgust, your underclassman’s cheeks burning red. Then, your lips grazed against a soft cloth, making you look down.

You blinked back once. Twice. You were definitely...built different today. Curiously, you tugged at the zipper peaking out from your black collar, the familiar zhoop sound of the zipper burned into your memory after hearing your best friend do it countless times before.

In front of you, Megumi screeched – the most noise he’d made ever since you met him – his jaw dropped open while you – or rather Toge stood at the end of the hallway, his hands squeezing at your breasts that were still under last night’s pyjamas. You blinked back once. Then twice, steam pouring from your nose when Toge, in your body, pointed at his body. 

“Oh, oh!” your scream bounced off the hallways hard enough that Panda slammed his door open, about to tell everyone to shut up when your voice let out a high-pitched scream.

“What are you doing in my body?!”

Looking down at where Toge was pointing, you were greeted by the sight of his dark uniform and sock clad feet, your chest replaced with hard muscles instead of the soft flesh. You turned to Toge with a stupefied look that mirrored his, both of you falling on the ground with fists pounding on the hardwood floor.

“I’m a fucking girl!” he cried out, whether out of happiness or frustration, it was hard to tell.

Meanwhile, you zipped his collar back up, tugging at his off-white hair as you forced yourself to remember his limited vocabulary. “BONITO FLAKES!”

Now you understood Toge’s frustration of being a cursed speech user. 

“Bonito Flakes” definitely did not hold the same fury as “FUCK” did.

“You and I need to set down some boundaries,” you signed to him, brows pulled together. Toge seemed to be enjoying this sudden body swap a lot more than you did since he hadn’t stopped posing in the mirror the moment you pushed him back to your room, locking it shut to get some privacy. “You are not, under any circumstances, allowed to shower, do you understand?”

Toge scowled at your words, sassy as ever with his hands placed on his hips, buttocks jutted out. You hated, absolutely hated that he used your body this way because this time you couldn’t even laugh – not when seeing your body felt this awkward.

“You would really rather me stink?”

“You can’t undress too! Ever! Or if you will, your eyes better be closed. No peeking too!”

“Y/N, you and I grew up together. I’ve already seen everything,” he rolled his eyes, earning him a hard slap from the arm. Considering he was a lot more muscular than you were, your hit came a lot harder. “Ow!” he protested, rubbing the sore spot that ached, only to laugh at the sounds emitting from his lips. “Wow, I have to admit that this is really fun though. I’m actually talking,” he announced, “Hey, say salmon for me.”

“Bonito flakes!” you shook your head, “The moment Principal Yaga is back, we’re going to talk to him, okay? I don’t want to be stuck in your body any longer!”

“Please, you’re lucky you get to feel me up,” he winked at you, taking your (his) hands to flatten it on his stomach. “Come on, come on, feel my abs!” Whack. “Would you please stop slapping me? Your body is a lot more delicate than mine and my hands are – stop slapping me!”

Feeling bad for your friend and not wanting to abuse your body too much, you raised your hands in surrender with a roll of your eyes. “I can’t take you seriously with that voice. You’re too cute.”

“Complimenting ourselves now, aren’t we?” he scoffed, “Well, whatever, you are cute, especially when you’re angry. Such a shame I can’t see you do that right now because my handsome face is looking back at me.”

“I won’t hesitate to choke you, my friend.”

“You wouldn’t. You adore your body too much,” contrary to his words, Toge pulled a defensive stance. You threw a pillow at him, to which he easily dodged, clutching at the hem of your pyjamas afterwards. “Speaking of bodies, I really need to pee.”

“Hold it!”

“Are you insane? I’m not holding it, you’re going to kill us both!”

“Fine, I’ll take you to the rest room then,” you tugged at the hood of your shirt, pushing him inside the communal female restroom. Toge stood in the middle shock still, evidently flustered at the stalls and lack of urinals. You flicked a finger on his forehead, finger pointed to a stall. “Go pee. That’s my body – I need to make sure you’re not going to do anything weird with it.”

“I thought you trusted me, friend. Why would you think I’d touch you that way?”

You gave him an ‘are you serious?’ look. “You jack off every fucking night, Toge. I can hear you even from the next hallway. Plus, you’re a horny teenage male, who’s to say you wouldn’t be curious and try to see what female masturbation feels like?”

His eyes lit up at the idea, fist coming down to bounce at the palm of his hand as he nodded. “That’s actually a good idea—”

“Don’t you even dare.”

“What?!” you and Toge both exclaimed. He faced you with utter horror written on his face and you gasped, slapping both palms over your lips.

“It is true,” Principal Yaga affirmed with a grim look on his face. He’d recently got back to fetch your troublesome Gojo-Sensei who’d been caught starting a ruckus in Roponggi while women flocked around him, leading to your principal to haul his ass back to the school grounds. “Some curses are manifested through daily objects, and sometimes even through nature. That shooting star you saw was an example of that.”

“But is kissing really necessary?” Toge queried with a wary gaze sent your way.

“It’s a fairytale curse. It can only be broken through a true love’s kiss.”

“But sir, Toge and I have never dated anyone before. How can we miraculously fall in love with someone to break this curse overnight?”

“It doesn’t have to happen overnight. Sometimes, a simple crush will do,” Principal Yaga sighed, scratching his bald head with his face pulled deep in thought. “Y/N, you have a crush on Gojo-Sensei right? I’m going to kill him if he actually kisses you – and knowing that damn brat he might if you ask him – but I think a kiss on the cheek will suffice. For now, you both just have to...broaden your relationships. Maybe go out on dates.”

“I don’t mind that. In fact, I’m going to have the time of my life,” Toge cheered, his mood dampening once he saw you stiffen. “But my body is...”

Knowing full well that he’d get insecure over his lack of speech again, you glared at him hard enough that your best friend straightened up, lips puckered out in a pout as if you hadn’t just caught him talking badly about himself again when you’ve told him countless times he was perfectly fine the way he was.

It made you sigh, feeling slightly bad that until now he still couldn’t see himself the way you saw him – not that you’d ever vocalize this; Toge would never shut up (in the best way he could) if he had the slightest idea what went inside your head.

“You’re lucky you have a pretty face. Otherwise, it’s going to be impossible for anyone to like you,” you teased instead, somewhat flustered at your indirect compliment.

Toge merely scoffed at you, his gaze burning and hard, contrasting the teasing little shit grin he wore. “Oh, please, if I wasn’t the cursed speech user, I would’ve banged—”

“Kids!” Principal Yaga threw his dolls at you hard, the both of you clutching at your heads in pain. How were those dolls as heavy as rocks? “Take your bickering back to your rooms please. No more of this mess and noise. It’s late.”

You frowned at the old man, face pleading as you signed, “Principal Yaga, can’t we really do anything else? Aren’t there any techniques to undo this?”

You and Toge knew that combination so well – pitch black eyes, jaw clenched, lips pursed and palms interlaced under his chin – one that meant his words were final and irrevocable. None of you could argue or suggest more solutions the moment the words left his lips like an ultimate decree. “The technique is the kiss. Now leave.”

You and Toge tried, you both really did. 

But following Principal Yaga’s suggestion of dating others had turned out to be a complete fail – even with your normal body and Toge’s physical charisma. 

It simply didn’t work; not when Megumi ran away from you every time you tried to get him to kiss you with your arms wide open, and Toge wasn’t helping either by pushing Gojo-Sensei away from you every time the cheeky eyed teacher announced his willingness to help.

Eventually, you and your best friend had retired in his room, the scent of him coated all over his pillows and his shirt that you wore. That felt comforting, at least, and you buried yourself in the crook of your body’s neck, bodies tangled with one another.

Who knew dating could be so tiring?

A wave of irritation flashed over you from today’s events, knowing full well that this could’ve been avoided long ago. Scowling, you cuddled Toge closer, lightly flicking your fingers on your body’s chest. “This is your damn fault, Toge.”

“You were the one who asked me to stargaze with you.”

“You don’t always have to say no to everything I ask of you, you know.”

“You’re really dumber than I thought if you think I could easily say no to you,” he snorted above you, his chin resting atop your head. “I don’t have a lot of weakness because I’m a strong sorcerer—” another flick, a harsher one this time around. “Okay, okay, I’m just kidding! But I mean it though – you’re my best friend and my weakness. Of course I’d do anything to make you happy, even if it’s something as stupid as stargazing.”

“Hey!” you made a sound of protest in your throat, looking back at him with a frown. “It wasn’t stupid, it was romantic.”

Hell yeah, it was romantic indeed – your heart still skipped a beat every time you remembered Toge’s starry eyes matching the night sky’s beauty, the words salmon and mustard leaf surprisingly sexy every time it came from him. It was stupid – so fucking stupid – that you groaned into his chest to hide your flushed face.

“Yeah, I suppose it was.”

The room fell silent, your syncopated breathing soothing during this stressful times. Taking advantage of your voice, Toge began to hum, singing the songs you both had always listened to in the privacy of your room during lazy days. It brought a smile to your face as you clutched to him tighter, heart pounding in your chest as you gazed up at him, tapping his chin to get his attention. “Toge, can I say something weird?”

“Please, nothing you say surprises me anymore. Shoot.”

Your mouth began to dry as you cleared your throat in an attempt to hide your awkwardness, gaze pointedly averted from his prying ones. “You and I...we’ve known each other for a long time and we love each other. As best friends, of course.”

“Sheesh, friendzone much?”

“Would you please shut up and listen to me seriously for once?” you huffed, making him snicker, but nodded at you anyway to continue. “As I was saying – why don’t we kiss? It could be true love’s kiss.”

Toge didn’t speak for a good minute, the pregnant pause filling in the gap filled with tension. You taped his cheek, waving his hand in front of his eyes when he dazed out. When his gaze focussed back on you, Toge was surprisingly calm – although beneath that composed exterior, his mind had simply short-circuited. “If this is your way to get to make out with me, I’m going to sock you in the face.”

“Toge, I’m serious! Let’s kiss!”

“I don’t want to!” he shook his head indignantly, hiding his face by hugging you close to his chest instead.

“Why not? Don’t you want to swap back to your original body? Both of us haven’t showered in two days and I’m sick of the way you smell. You’re lucky I love you though, otherwise I’m going to cry. Come on, Toge, what’s holding you back?” you tried to fight back from his grip, but he’d surprised you both when he only squeezed you tighter, both your erratic heart rates matching the other.

“I said no.”

“Toge, it’s just a damn kiss, what’re you so afraid of?”

“I’m afraid that if we don’t swap back, then that means you don’t love me the way I love you!” he finally admitted, breathing hard before continuing. “Principal Yaga said it must be a kiss between lovers and not just platonic friends okay?” you attempted to scramble away from his arms again, and this time he let you, though he’d closed his eyes, cheek squished on the pillows as he murmured, “I don’t want you to reject me... even though I messed up already.”

“Wait,” you snapped your fingers to make him open his eyes, hesitant as you signed, “You...you love me that way?”

“I don’t want to talk about it.”

“Why not?”

“Because my face is staring back at me and it’s fucking awkward – I wanted to see your face when I confessed!” he sat up with a frustrated groan, childishly kicking off the sheets of the bed as he clutched his head in his hands. “I had everything planned, okay? Nobara and Yuuji helped me think of everything because Megumi is shit when it comes to love. Listen, I was going to ask you on a candlelit date and then maybe kiss the life out of you – if you feel the same way—”

“Kiss me.” The body he possessed a victim of his own powers, Toge was left with no choice but to grab your face before his mouth pressed against yours, fingers entangled into the other’s hair. You were smiling into the kiss the whole time, barely able to recognize when Toge had shifted your bodies until you were under him, his hands running down your sides lovingly the whole time. 

Pulling away to get some air, you opened your eyes, unsurprised when Toge laid above you, his strong arms planted beside your head.

Both of you were breathing hard from the passionate kiss filled with so much sexual tension and longing, your tongue darting out to swipe at his taste on your lips. The laughter that bubbled out of you was pure, wholesome and swollen like your heart. “I love you too, idiot.”

“Salmon!” Toge peppered your cheeks with kisses, pulling out more gleeful laughter from you, his playful and loving attacks more of a gift than a punishment. Once you’d recovered from your happiness – although really, who could recover after that? – Toge unzipped his collar, his smile nothing but wicked when he commanded, “Kiss me again.”

[blackkatmagic]

i wish you would write a fic where nico diath and count dooku got ‘woke up in space vegas married’, grouchily completed whatever mission they had together, and promptly discovered that a legal dissolution of marriage is much harder than it looks

"We have to what," Dooku says blankly.

Nico rolls his eyes. It's entirely called for, because Dooku is just standing there like a damned lump and he's the one who spent four hours trying to wrangle this damned planet's bureaucracy into submission. And if he yelled at a protocol droid, well. Only he and the droid need to know that.

"Stay married for a year," he repeats, sending Dooku a withering look. The sex wasn't good enough to make up for having to repeatedly answer stupid questions. Well. Nico assumes it wasn't, because Dooku is an arrogant ass, and if he's good in bed Nico owes Jocasta a hundred credits and a book she hasn't read, which is a fate worse than death. "Unless, of course, you're willing to give up half of your estate to the government of this planet. It was in the marriage contract's fine print."

Dooku stares like a concussed goat for another ten seconds, then grimaces, deep and pained. He puts a hand up to massage his brow, looking like he's contemplating either murder or suicide or a combination of the two, and then says, "We are Jedi, we do not have estates."

Nico snorts loudly, freeing his arm from its sling because slings are a nuisance and he's gotten far too used to either Master Fay or An'ya's little wildcat of an apprentice, who's fairly skilled at healing when he can be bribed into contact with food and clothes that aren't mostly patches. "Speak for yourself, the Diath family still holds extensive estates on Tatooine - "

"But you do not, because you are a Jedi - "

"And if you're not even going to bother to read the damn paperwork before you yell at me about my misinterpretation, Dooku, I will tie you to the bed again, but this time will not be nearly so fun for you."

The tips of Dooku's ears go dull red, and he looks down his nose at Nico in a way that means he doesn't have a good comeback but wants to keep the high ground. "Diath, if you think you can shame me - "

Nico rolls his eyes again, reaching for the pot of caf in the middle of the table. It twinges a little, but - they completed their mission. This mess is what's left to deal with, and as much fun as it has been to prod Dooku about their marriage, Nico would rather get back to his work tracking down slavers and freeing those still held in bondage.

"Don't worry, Dooku, I'm well aware you feel no shame," he says blandly. "But if this collection of paper-pushers thinks I can be intimidated by - "

A hand grips his wrist, startlingly gentle, and tugs it down to the table. Reaching over, Dooku picks up the pot, refills Nico's cup, and then deliberately sets the carafe down within reach, his frown never wavering.

"If you damage yourself permanently, I will assume you intend to force me to be the bread-winner in this marriage," he says coolly. "And I will sue. I'm sure the particularly bloodthirsty solicitors on this planet can assist me in obtaining damages."

Nico pauses, then carefully picks up the cup with his good hand, sliding his bad arm back into the sling. "Well," he says, a little gruffer than he intends. "If you're going to threaten me over it, I suppose I can accommodate your demands. Seeing as you are my dearest husband."

Dooku's breath catches, and he turns away quickly. "You needn't take that tone," he says, but he's not looking back, and -

Well. It's interesting, Nico thinks, and takes a sip of his caf. One year is a long time, after all. There's plenty of time to think about things thoroughly.

[ghoste-catte]

I was curious what advice would you give to someone new to writing fics? I've been wanting to get back into it but haven't seriously written something since high school. I hope this isn't an annoying question or anything!

Not an annoying question at all! I'm just a little worried that I won't have terribly good or useful advice. To be honest, I also sort of stopped writing in earnest right as I finished high school, and didn't pick it back up until my late 20s. It's certainly an adjustment! But I think the few things that really helped me get back into writing fic as a hobby and something I spend quite a bit of time on would be:

Write for yourself first, then find your other motivations. My original inspiration in getting back into fic writing was that there just were not that many fics I liked for my favorite pairing, and I wanted more of them, and I especially wanted more with the tropes and characterizations I wanted to see. I think at the very core of anything you need that internal spark that drives you. At the same time, for me at least, if I just relied on my own drive, I would not get much done; I need some external guardrails. So having people send prompts, or writing for particular events, or writing stuff for friends really helps me to get my ass in gear and finish stuff. That may not be the perfect motivator for you, and that's fine! You just gotta figure out what is.

Be open to inspiration. Anything and everything can be spun out into a story with the right tweaking. Obviously stuff like music is a classic inspiration source, but I've also pulled ideas from poetry, from memes, from Reddit threads, from YouTube videos, from rambling conversations on Discord and from real life to make fics out of. So many times, someone will post a silly Twitter screencap, and I'll think, There's a fic in this. And a lot of the time, there is! Research is a wonderful thing, but so is serendipity. If you're out there actively looking for ideas, eventually one that you like will stumble past you.

Find your community. I can genuinely say I never would have finished more than one fic if I didn't have fandom friends to talk to about even stupid headcanons, to bounce ideas off of, and to encourage me (and to encourage them in turn!). Discord has been a godsend, and some of my closest online friends are people I met in the GaaLee discord server. As I've gotten more comfortable as a writer, I've also joined general writing servers and Reddit communities and have found them immensely helpful on both a motivational level (bingos, sprints, owe-me challenges) and on a craft level (plot workshopping and writing ethics and live grammar help). It's a lot easier to think about fic ideas and hash through problem moments when I have a constant stream of fandom-related chatter coming from the little people who live in my phone! Ao3 is an amazing website, and it's great as, well, an archive, but it isn't social media by design. If you want conversation and human connection and cheerleading, you've gotta forge out and find it.

Make it a habit ... If you want to produce anything longer than a couple hundred words, you really have to set aside time for it. And writing is just like knitting or dirt biking or painting little model figurines: the more you do it, the more easily it comes. When I was first getting back into the proper swing of things, I committed myself to 30 minutes of writing per week. Just 30 minutes. I didn't even hit that goal every week, but there were tons of weeks I got on a roll and went over that amount, and by the end of the year I'd written over 200,000 words. I used to spend an hour laboriously tip-tapping out 200 words, but now I can easily blow through 1k in a 50 minute sprint. It's all about training that muscle.

... But don't make it a chore. With fanfic, you aren't doing this as a job, and you aren't ultimately doing it for anyone other than you. That means you can take breaks when you need them, you can set deadlines and then fail to meet them, you can write stuff and then decide to never post it. When you start getting burnt out, when the practice loses the joy and energy, stop. There's no 'hustle' here. In our capitalist society we're so trained to push past our limits and keep going even when it hurts us, but the hobby you do for connection and relaxation and whatever else shouldn't be like that.

Ignore metrics. Sometimes stuff isn't gonna get hits, or kudos, or comments. There are some basic 'rules' as to the stuff that does and doesn't get traction, but every time you post something it's a roll of the dice. If you're focused on watching that kudos counter tick up, you will get bummed out fast. And any writer will tell you that the stuff you think is your best work will never be the stuff that gets the most accolades. So you have to find something else to give you a sense of success. For me, it's watching my wordcount go up in my stats and those occasional comments where someone has a lot to say and that one person who always leaves me a <3 emoji (and, shout out to @egregiousderp, having someone to have long one-on-one conversations with about the stuff that never made it to page).

Don't strive for perfection. It's really easy to want your first ever fic to be a complete showstopper, the best fic fandom has ever seen, hitting all the tropes and the ideas and the characterization that you just know fandom is missing and would be everyone's top favorite if only it was written. This is a trap. No one fic can be all things. Most people who want to write an epic as their very first venture will not see the end of that epic, because they haven't put in the practice hours to make something on that scale work. That's not to say you can't start out with a big, sprawling multichap, just don't expect it to be the greatest thing since sliced bread if you're just starting out, and be okay with abandoning it for greener pastures if you get to that point. Think of the first time someone makes a vase out of clay or bakes a loaf of bread. That's never their best vase or their best bread. If they keep up with it, they'll make more and better vases and loaves. Likewise, your first fic is probably not gonna be your best fic. See it for what it is: your launchpad.

You can't edit an empty page, but you can over-edit a full one. This kind of spins off of #7, but if the words aren't there, you can't fix them. Daydreams and headcanons are fantastic (and god, how many times have I wished for a speech-to-text engine that projected my falling asleep thoughts onto a Google doc for later perusal), but they aren't fic. If you want to write fic, you've gotta get comfortable with the idea of sloppy outlines and rough first drafts. You can't build a house without a frame and you can't build a man without a skeleton (I mean, you can, I guess, but he'd be one floppy man). The nice thing about fic is that it doesn't matter if that frame is structurally unsound or the skeleton has 18 too many bones, you can clean that up in the editing process. But you can't start hanging curtains and arranging furniture in something that doesn't even have walls. That's the process. But! Also know when to set down the editor's pen and say, "Okay, this is good enough for government work", and call it done. ("Done" doesn't have to mean "posted", but it does mean, "I'm done picking at this for now, and I'm gonna go write some more stuff".) Over-editing can make stuff seem laborious and forced, and it prevents you from actually improving. To continue belaboring the house metaphor, you can spend your whole life rearranging furniture in just one room, but the end result of that is a pretty narrow existence and a room with a lot of footprints and tracks in the carpet.

Write shit down. When you have ideas, jot them down--in a notebook, in a Google Doc, in the Notes app of your phone, in pen on the back of your hand. You think you will remember that brilliant line of dialogue or sparkling snippet of narration or genius plot that came to you in a dream, but you Will Not. Write it down. Write it down. Write it down! There have been so many times when a fic was completely saved by past!me having written down my shower thoughts about what happens next in the fic, that present!me had completely forgotten about and was floundering over.

Have fun with it! Try different stuff. Try stupid stuff. Try experimental stuff. Do stuff you've never done before that you aren't sure will work. It's important to get comfortable with your niche (for example, I know I'm never going to be the sort of person who writes intricate plots of intrigue or super long 100k epics or detailed battles), but you can't find that niche unless you explore lots of different niches! Figure out what you love and what you absolutely hate, and then keep doing the stuff you love.

Okay, so that was actually TEN things, but ... I hope you still found this helpful. Feel free to send another ask if any of this was confusing or unclear. Good luck with your fic writing and, if you want, send me a link to what you've written once you've written it! I'd love to read it.

[evieonic]

I'm Not Going To Lose You (Winterfield - Chris Redfield/Ethan Winters Fluff fic)

This is a prompt that I saw on here written by @re8-has-taken-me-over (you should 100% go follow them btw, they seem like such a lovely person) and I asked permission before writing this and they gave me permission so this is what I came up with! @re8-has-taken-me-over, I hope you like it! ^^

This story is both readable here and on ao3. Either option works, it's whatever you prefer! Click to keep reading if you want to read it here.

I'm Not Going To Lose You (Published:  05/27/2021)

Pairing: Chris Redfield x Ethan Winters

Fandom: Resident Evil 8

Trigger Warning: None.

Length: 3492 Words, 1 Chapter. Completed.

Summary: “Chris…,” Ethan said again, stopping in his tracks, forcing Chris to look at him. “I don’t think I can keep going.”

“No, you can,” Chris insisted, “you have to."

Ethan only tried to push Rose into his arms again, his eyes beginning to tear up. He needed Chris to run so they both could survive. If they both survived, then he could die happy. "You both need to survive, okay? There’s no time to argue about this so you should just-”

Before Ethan could even finish his words, Chris wrapped a hand around the back of his head, his gloved fingers lacing with his hair while the other hand pushed the baby further into his grasp. Ethan didn’t have time to question the movement because the next thing he knew, Chris’s lips were on his own. His eyes widened as Chris pushed him further into the kiss, deepening it as his eyes slowly fluttered closed.

The kiss was warm and sweet, gentle and loving, it was everything he could ever want. It was short, too. Chris pulled away before he had a chance to kiss back.

“I’m not going to lose you." Chris said, "Not again.”

“Ethan, get up!” A voice called to him. Footsteps ran up to his side but it was too late. Ethan had already dropped to his knees, slowly losing his will to stand. He had been fighting for so long to save his little girl, his precious daughter, Rosemary, without a moment’s rest. He barely had the energy to cradle her in his arms.

“Ethan,” The same voice said again, hurried and full of concern. An arm was wrapped around his shoulders, “Ethan, can you get up? You have to stand.”

Ethan looked up at the owner of the voice, his heart warming at the sight of Chris and his gentle blue eyes. Chris had been there with him through everything. When Mia died after giving birth to Rose eight months ago, he helped him through the grief, even going as far to occasionally stay over and help him raise the baby. He owed him everything, even though Chris had originally, during this whole mission, refused to tell him anything, only making him think that Chris betrayed him.

But he never doubted him. Not really. He knew Chris would never hurt him. He trusted him and knew that he wasn’t that type of person. He was much more of a protector than a fighter.

That’s what he loved about him.

“Chris… why are you here?” He asked. Maybe that was a stupid question. He already knew that Chris was here to deal with Miranda and her fucked up antics.

“To save you, idiot,” Chris said, his voice soft. He looked panicked and Ethan knew why. The battle still wasn’t done. He sighed, glancing at the black mold creature slowly rising again to attack. “Ethan, listen to me. You did it. You finished it.”

“I think we finished each other,” Ethan said, feeling an overwhelming ache take over his body. He was done. He couldn’t do any more.

Chris shook his head, “no. You’re fine, you’re going to be okay. But you have to stand for me, okay?”

Ethan slowly lifted his head, each movement stiff and heavy. He looked into Chris’s gentle, worried eyes. He would have to stand. At least for him. For Rosemary. He slowly nodded his head and carefully moved his legs out so he could get up, each movement slow and painful. Chris however helped him, wrapping his arm around his back, throwing the arm Ethan wasn’t using to hold Rosemary over his own shoulder and lifted him to his feet.

Chris helped him turn, immediately guiding him to the plane, dragging him along with him. He softly whispered to him all kinds of encouraging words, “you can do it, it’s not that much further. You’re going to make it, just keep going.”

It warmed his heart. But Ethan knew he wasn’t going to survive. He was already too far gone. “Chris…”

“Come on, keep going, you’re so close, Ethan.”

“Chris…,” Ethan said again, stopping in his tracks, forcing Chris to look at him. “I don’t think I can keep going.”

“No, you can,” Chris insisted, “you have to.”

Ethan weakly shook his head. “Please, Chris, I’ll just slow you down,” he said, gently shifting his arm, trying to make Chris take the baby, “take her and run, okay? You both need to survive.”

“No,” Chris shook his head, his eyes widened, “no, we’re going to survive, all three of us, okay?”

Ethan only tried to push Rose into his arms again, his eyes beginning to tear up. He needed Chris to run so they both could survive. If they both survived, then he could die happy. “Please, just go. It’s okay. You need to survive,” Ethan said, his hand naturally falling onto Chris’ cheek, his thumb gently rubbing the bone underneath. He never got to tell Chris how over the years, when he was helping him raise his daughter, helping him move on with his life, he had begun to fall in love with him.

He had just discovered his true feelings not long before this all began and… he would never get to tell him. But that was okay. As long as he was alive and well, he could be happy. “You both need to survive, okay? There’s no time to argue about this so you should just-”

Before Ethan could even finish his words, Chris wrapped a hand around the back of his head, his gloved fingers lacing with his hair while the other hand pushed the baby further into his grasp. Ethan didn’t have time to question the movement because the next thing he knew, Chris’s lips were on his own. His eyes widened as Chris pushed him further into the kiss, deepening it as his eyes slowly fluttered closed.

He couldn’t believe what was happening right now but he might as well not be surprised. So many crazy things have been happening in such a short span of time, he wouldn’t be surprised if this was all a dream.

But he truly hoped it wasn’t. The kiss was warm and sweet, gentle and loving, it was everything he could ever want. It was short, too. Chris pulled away before he had a chance to kiss back.

“Chris-” Ethan began but Chris cut him off again by suddenly wrapping an arm behind his back, the other one going underneath his legs to lift him up - bridal style - in his arms.

“I’m not going to lose you. Not again,” Chris said, “so don’t worry about walking anymore. Just hold onto Rosemary, I’ll get us there.”

Ethan gasped as Chris started running, carrying all of his weight with such ease. Ethan did as he asked and tightened his arms around the baby while Chris got them to safety. He felt his heartbeat quicken at the very idea of Chris trying so hard to save him but it was mostly beating so fast because of what just happened a few seconds ago.

He had never thought that Chris would kiss him or potentially like him back.

“Chris…,” He began. Now wasn’t the time to talk about it, he knew but he really needed some answered questions.

“Not now, running,” Chris said firmly, “we need to get far away before I blow that thing sky-high.”

“But Chris, that-”

“Not now, Ethan!”

Ethan fell silent at that and just let the man carry him. He carefully held Rose tighter to his chest, keeping her secure while he leaned his head onto Chris’s neck. He felt so useless being carried like this but at least he could try to feel like he was supporting Chris by being near him.

It was only a few seconds later that they were all in the helicopter. Chris immediately sat Ethan down into a seat, rushing to buckle him in and then went to start the plane. Ethan could do nothing but watch him, staring at him expectantly. He wanted to help him somehow even though he knew there was barely anything he could do right now with how weak and exhausted he was.

Chris seemed to understand that too. He said nothing to him, only giving him gentle glances, soft small smiles here and there as he started the plane, getting it into flight and as soon as they were high enough, it was finally time to finish the job. Chris pulled out the trigger for the bomb, immediately setting it off. “Hold tight!” he said as soon as he pressed it.

Ethan quickly held Rosemary close to him, grabbing hold of his seat as the plane shook from the shockwave of the explosion. Ethan gasped as he nearly slid out of his seat, Chris quickly getting out of his own to help stabilize him by holding him close. It was only a second before the shockwave passed, leaving the two of them steady and safe .

Ethan looked up, his eyes meeting Chris’s, their noses touching. He was so close that if Ethan leaned up just a little, he could kiss him again. But he couldn’t. Not just yet. They needed to talk about the first one before they could do it again.

Silence enveloped them as they only stared at each other, panting slightly as the adrenaline rush slowly ebbed away. Chris glanced up and down over Ethan, as if checking to make sure he was okay before moving to his feet and returned to pilot the plane. Ethan watched his every move, wondering how to even begin discussing their future, the next step and what happened moments ago.

Ethan could still feel the warmth from the kiss Chris gave him earlier. He didn’t even know how to begin. He had never even noticed Chris having feelings for him! He always thought the big soldier was just trying to help. He never thought that he could maybe like him back. Ethan mentally slapped himself as he ran a hand over his face. He felt like he was in high school again, confessing to his crush. How annoying.

He cleared his throat. It was now or never, “Chris…”

“Yes?"

“Can we talk about what happened earlier?”

Chris fell silent for a second before saying, “you mean with all the dying?”

“No, after that,” Ethan said, chuckling slightly.

He could see Chris smile for a split second at his own poor attempt of avoiding the talk they needed to have but then it vanished and he reached over, putting the plane on autopilot. He got out of his seat before walking over to Ethan, kneeling down in front of him. “Yes. We can.”

Ethan nodded. So now they were talking about it. The problem is, he didn’t know what to say next. He didn’t know where to begin. He cleared his throat again. “So…,” he started awkwardly, “why did you… you know?”

Chris stared at him for a moment as if he was trying to formulate his thoughts. “Well, you were trying to give up on me and I wasn’t going to let you do that.”

“Was it just to motivate me?”

“No.”

“Then why else?”

Chris smiled at that, “do you really need me to spell it out for you?”

Ethan’s eyes widened at that, his heart beating a little faster. “So you mean you…”

“It was kind of hard not to see how you were getting feelings for me, Ethan,” Chris said, causing Ethan to scoff and look away, a blush forming on his cheeks. “And to be honest with you, I’m surprised you never saw how I felt the same way. I was waiting for a good moment to tell you and, well, ask you out but then things sort of went to hell.” He chuckled slightly, trying to lighten the mood a little bit. So he had planned to tell him not too long ago.

“So you… I can take this as you like me back and you know that I like you too, right?” Ethan asked, just to be sure.

“Yes,” Chris nodded, “that’s exactly how I want you to take it, to be honest.”

“Good…,” Ethan smiled, “good. So then… What does this mean? What do we do now?”

“Well, it can mean whatever you want it to mean,” Chris said, shifting a little bit closer to him. “It can mean we’re together now and we can start dating or we can just have our feelings be out there in the open and figure it out when things calm down… we can do whatever makes you feel comfortable.”

Ethan couldn’t help but gently take a hold of Chris’s face at that and guide him to his lips to kiss him once more, this time finally able to kiss back. That was one of the things that Ethan loved so much about Chris. He was so selfless.

Chris reacted instantly, leaning forward so he could wrap his arms around Ethan’s back, using his weight to keep him and Rose secure in his embrace. He pulled Ethan close to him, one hand threading through his hair while the other was firmly on his back. Ethan’s hands slid from the sides of Chris’s face to draping over his shoulders, wrapping his arms around his neck.

He didn’t want to just leave the feelings out in the open. He didn’t want to wait until things calmed down. He wanted to be with him and be happy and safe for once.

That’s all he wanted…

.

.

.

.

“Dad! Can you tell me what year it was that World War 2 began?”

Chris had wanted the exact same thing as Ethan.

“Depends, which dad are you asking, the one that failed history or the one loved it but forgot everything by the time college came?” He said, calling to the living room where their now 11 year old daughter was sitting on the couch, trying to do her history homework.

Ethan chuckled, sipping at his coffee with his other hand laced with Chris’s. He watched as his husband smiled at his own tricky answer. Rosemary had no idea which one was which.

“Whichever one knows exactly what I’m talking about!” She called back, her reply snarky. Ethan honestly didn’t know where she got the sass from but he most definitely blamed Chris.

“Okay, okay,” Ethan said, “It was 2012.”

“Dad-eef!” She snapped at him, giving him one of those teenage death glares that the kids had these days. He chuckled at the nickname. It’s what she called him back when she was a baby. She could never pronounce ‘daddy’ really well so the nickname ‘dad-eef’ stuck.

“Alright,” he sighed, “It was 1939. Promise it’s true.”

“Are you sure? I’m not asking the dad who failed history, am I?” She said, a playful tone in her voice as she wrote the answer down.

Ethan laughed, standing up to put his mug into the sink before gently kissing his husband on the forehead. “Nope, I'm afraid that’s your other father.”

“You weren’t supposed to tell,” Chris said, smiling with so much adoration in his eyes, it always blew Ethan away. It had been a long time since the events at the village and all was well for the now, the three of them living peacefully in their home in southern Iowa in America. Chris has long since retired from the BSAA and Ethan was still happily working as a mechanical engineer. Ever since they came back home, the relationship between them was awkward but it quickly grew into what it was now. Hell, it took only two years of dating before the two of them got married.

“Well, she needs to know who is a credible source here,” Ethan said with a grin. He peered outside the window, “Rose, it looks like Annette is here.”

“Oh!” She gasped, immediately packing up her schoolwork, “I forgot all about that.”

“You make sure you study when you get back, okay?” Ethan said a little firmly. He wasn’t a strict parent at all when it came to school, but he didn’t want Rose to let her work slide. School was important to a certain degree.

Rose sighed, “yes, yes, I know, I will. I’ll be back probably around six.”

“Six?” Chris grumbled, “I don’t know if I approve of my daughter staying out that late on a date. You should be back around five.”

“But it’s already four!”

“Exactly. Sounds reasonable to me,” Chris mumbled. Ethan laughed, gently caressing his cheek to make him smile back at him.

“Rose, don’t worry about it, try to be back at least around eight, okay? Eight is the latest.” Ethan said.

“Okay, dad-eef, will do,” She said, hoisting her backpack over her shoulder and heading to the door, “and it’s not a date!”

“Too late, you didn’t deny it earlier!” Ethan called back, only to hear her let out a little embarrassed shriek.

“Whatever, it doesn’t matter. Bye dads, love you!” She said, already out the door before she could hear them call back, “love you too!”

Ethan laughed as he watched her go to the car through the window. “She likes her.”

“I know,” Chris said, getting up from his place at the table, “I don’t like it.”

“Why not? Annette is a sweet girl,” Ethan smiled. He’s met Annette and her family only a few times, but she always struck him as a really polite girl. If his daughter ever did choose to date her, he would definitely be happy with her choice.

“Yes but I still don’t like it. Before you know it, the two of them will want to get married and move out and bleeh,” he said, an annoyed look on his face that did nothing but make Ethan laugh. He knew that Chris really didn’t have a problem with Annette and he actually approved of Rosemary’s choice quite a bit. But he was still a dad and dads tended to be overprotective.

Chris became a rather overprotective dad the day they got married and Ethan never got upset about that fact. He loved how quick Chris was to take Rosemary under his wing and treat her like she was his own.

He was such a good dad.

He needed to be told that more often.

“You’re a good father,” Ethan said, smiling gently at him. His words were so soft, it made Chris stop in his tracks to the sink and immediately look at him.

“A-Am I?” he stammered awkwardly, smiling back at him, “I doubt I’m anywhere as good as you. You have so much experience on me.”

“Maybe,” Ethan admitted that he did. He had been raising Rosemary a lot longer than Chris had. “But even so, you really fell into the role pretty easily. And you do such a good job at it. You treat her as if she’s your own daughter and I can’t tell you how special that is to her… to me.”

Chris’s eyes softened as Ethan slowly approached him, his hand returning to the side of his face, gently cradling his face. Chris smiled, leaning into the warmth of his palm before taking a hold of it just so he could kiss him, right on the center of his life lines. “Of course,” he said, “why wouldn’t I? She’s a good kid and I’m proud of being her father or well, her other father.”

“I’m proud too,” Ethan smiled, wrapping his arms loosely around Chris’s neck, “you’re a wonderful father and husband… how could I not be?"

Chris’s face faltered for a second. It wasn’t rare that they had sweet moments like these, it’s just it blew Chris away every single time. Ethan already knew it did so he smiled more sweetly at his husband before he placed a kiss on his lips.

Chris kissed him back before his husband pulled away, his smile mischievous now.

“You know your daughter won’t be back for quite some time now,” he said.

Chris could practically see the wheels turning in his head. He knew exactly what he was trying to hint at. “And?” he smirked, teasing him, “what about it?”

“Oh come on, you know exactly what I’m trying to say,” Ethan rolled his eyes but Chris continued his teasing.

“Oh you mean watching all the ghostbuster movies since she hates them so much? Or do you mean going out to the restaurant we’ve been wanting to try lately? Or do you mean…,” his smirk deepened, “doing something a little more indecent?”

Ethan blushed and shook his head, “see now I’m not so sure anymore.”

Chris laughed, wrapping his arms around his waist, “we can do whatever you want to do. I was just teasing you. I’m happy to do whatever you have in mind.”

“Are you really? Because now I’m not so sure.”

“Honest! I truly will be happy with whatever you want to do,” Chris chuckled, “you’re fun to tease, I couldn’t help it.”

“Yeah, I know, you always do that,” Ethan smiled, honestly not minding it at all. He’s gotten used to how much of a tease Chris was.

Chris smiled back at him, dipping his neck down so he could kiss Ethan. Ethan wrapped his arms tighter around his neck before pulling away, “I think you already know what I’d like to do.”

Chris kissed his forehead, a gentle look on his face as he took a hold of his hand, “I do,” he led him to the stairs which led to the second floor where the bedrooms were - specifically, their own, “let’s get to work then. Who knows when Rosemary will be back.”

Ethan chuckled as his foot met the steps, “well then I guess we can have as much fun as we want until she gets back.”

Chris laughed at that and the two of them went up the stairs, going to their room to do their own personal activities, the whole time feeling loved and at peace with each other. Things were well now. And they were always going to be well.

Because they had each other.

[datawyrms]

snap

It is The Day I post my Invisobang fic! it was a wild ride to write everything and not post. This is actually the second fic I did, as the first fell into my pit of ‘i hate it now’ and will sit in limbo for the rest of eternity. I teamed up with Spirit ( @ghostportals ), who has done some accompanying art! That, and Red @redead-red saved my bacon by doing some betaing last moment, so tell em they’re great too. Hope you’re all enjoying the flood of finished fics and art this week! Only the first chapter is here, the rest is posted on my Ao3 and complete. hope you enjoy!

One careless fall changed Danny's life forever. He was kind of hoping one fall like that was enough for any lifetime. Clearly fate disagreed.

It's fine though! He's got this. He's fine. He can totally explain why he ran off with his own body to mom and dad.

The stairs had always been a little too steep, a titch too narrow, but he was used to them. Jazz worried too much- the whole Fenton family knew how to take them two steps at a time. He wasn’t going to admit she might have a point just because he’d slipped one time. He wished there was a railing to catch himself with- it would have spared him some of the pain of his head knocking on the stair.

It didn’t hurt that much. Plenty of ghosts hit harder, and far more frequently.

“Took a bit of a spill eh, Danno?”

Great, dad saw him slip like he was three again. He wanted to speak, wave his behemoth of a father off before he got tangled up in some long lecture about whatever they were working on down here. Just had to sit up.

He was a little stunned or something. All those late nights made his limbs rebel when he wanted them to hurry up. Come on, before he tries to help and accidentally shaves his hair off with some anti-ghost stepladder or something.

His arms stubbornly rejected his internal horror story. His attempt to say ‘I’m fine’ was more a gurgle than anything. Way to go, Fenton. Do everything to get dad to worry! Really using those genius genes. Jazz probably stole his anyway, or they got fried in the accident. Come on! A bit of self berating should have him sitting bolt upright by now. Maybe his arm twitched. He felt something move, anyway. More like a muscle spasm.

“Danny? You okay?” The large man came closer, his usual jog slowed.

Of course he’s fine. He could see dad, sort of. He totally moved his eyes to see him better, even. Stupid ghost powers were just acting up.  It’s okay,  just give me a second to stand up. You’re worrying over nothing.

 Jack had already made it over, crouching to get a better look at his fallen son. Like he was trying to look smaller or something with how carefully he was moving. Where was all that slow, ginger movement when he was driving? Or trying to tell them about some new invention that might burn off your eyebrows?

 I’m fine, dad. He couldn’t get the words to come out, but he was just fine. He really didn’t like the strange look on his father’s face. After all, ‘Jack Fenton doesn’t know the meaning of the word fear’ or whatever random thing he felt like shouting when chasing after entities from another dimension. Come on dad, stop looking like that. It was creeping him out. Moving should be easy, a snap, but part of him didn’t feel like doing it. Apparently an important part? He could visualize exactly what to do, but he wasn’t sitting up. He swore he could feel his muscles clenching but not finishing the movement. Maybe they were testing something down here that just made all the ectoplasm hiding inside him take a nap. His ectoplasm was so fired after this.

 “Can you look at me kiddo?”

 Coaxing him. This was weird. Why wasn’t he just hauling him off the floor and laughing about how clumsy he was at his age too? Looking at him was easy. Pretty hard to miss him, with all the bright orange.

 “Maddie? Can you come over here?” His question was strangely stilted, not much of a bellow.

 Dad was going to get the wrong idea because his body didn’t want to cooperate. Great. Fantastic. He could feel the warmth in his chest, the sign his heart was still going. He was just fine, just a bit inconvenienced at the moment. Why couldn’t dad just be  dad  and do something dumb like pick him up with one hand while sounding way too excited about some new tool that he built?

 “What’s wrong?” His mom said, her footsteps doing the same thing dad’s had. Speed that suddenly cut down to almost nothing. “Danny, did you hit your head?”

 “I think he might have, he’s not responding. I didn’t want to try to move him-“

 “You did great Jack, it’s okay.”

 Gross. He hoped they didn’t get caught up in one of their lovey dovey circles while he was stuck trying to get his stupid legs to remember how to do things. He was responding! He groaned, and he definitely twitched a bit. Weren’t they paying attention? He tried again, a bit more forcefully and ignoring the pang in his neck. More of a jolt from someone with too much static cling than actual pain, really.

 “Should I call 911? He isn’t moving! He just stayed there- didn’t even act all tough for his old man!”

 Jack was panicking.  Dad was panicking. Over nothing! Why wasn’t mom distracting him with fudge or some random study? No one was being normal today. Danny shuddered, he knew he did, it went with the pulse under his skin.

 “That’d be great sweetie, just stay close.”

 “In case you need my big strong arms to help carry him, right?”

 “Just in case.” She wasn’t wearing the hood of her jumpsuit, at least.

 It didn’t make it more comfortable when she crouched down, biting her lip and staring at him. Like this was concerning. It was the opposite of that, he was a klutz, a gangly teenager, it was normal for him to be a bit banged up. This shouldn’t concern her, or anyone. The only reason it bugged him was the not being able to move right now nonsense.

 “You aware in there sweetie?” she said, rather loudly and clapping near his ear.

  Yes I am, but I can’t tell you. Maybe he could focus on taking a breath and it would kick off whatever turned off his mind to body connection. Had he done anything strange before coming down here? Not really. He could absolutely feel her digging her nails into his earlobe though, ow! More motivation to move, but something wasn’t getting across. Maybe he was getting a bit freaked out about it too. Only because of his parents being weird. He was fine, he had to be fine. It was nothing, less than nothing.

 “I’m just going to make sure he’s still breathing Jack, do you have anyone on the line yet?”

 A loud response, but not to her question. “No it’s not a ghost emergency! It’s a human emergency!”

 Of course he was breathing. He couldn’t look that bad from such a small fall. Just breathe out the words ‘Hey mom, personal space’ and they’d laugh and it’d be nothing. All this fussing was making his skin crawl but of course he had to have ‘special ghost freezing up’. Was it his ice powers? Like he could get his powers being snarky like that, appreciated it in a twisted sort of way- but it would be better around people who wouldn’t assume the worst? Like anyone else. Even Dash.

 “Tell the operator he isn’t breathing.” Maddie’s voice was cold and controlled, even as she went back to biting her lip right after.

 He was totally breathing. He could feel the air that ran in and out of his lungs, the swell and fall that other ghosts knew as a weak point, a way to slow him down. He knew what being doubled over, air shoved right out of him from a harsh blow felt like, how it felt like the portal again. Throat twitching, body heaving and trying to regain what it lost. The darkness that bit at the edges of his vision as every nerve went screaming  You’re Dying . Hated that feeling, shook the ghosts who did that hard once they were in a thermos. This was nothing like that.

 “He isn’t breathing, you need to hurry! My wife knows CPR- just tell them to hurry this is my  son , please”

 Yelling to hide the quaver in his voice. Like a kicked puppy yelping. It sounded so wrong. This was going to be so awkward after. They’d just...pretend this never happened, right? That’d be for the best. No, he was going to get grounded forever for some ‘dumb prank’, since he was fine and worried them so much. Which didn’t seem too bad if it stopped all of...this.

 He moved a little. A toe, he was pretty sure. More notably was his mother, carefully getting him off the uneven stair to be flat on his back. Trying to keep his head from moving, and she couldn’t see he was looking at her? When she was this close? Too busy trying to be calm. Who could be busy enough to think he wasn’t breathing or tracking with his eyes? Another twitch, another inward curse that he couldn’t get back in control.

 “Just hold on, help is coming.” She said, but the half ghost couldn’t tell who she meant, exactly. Him, dad or herself? Either way the quiet remark did not prepare him for the sheer force slammed into his crest. Like she wanted to slam right through him! Was it so much to ask that his parents stop nearly killing him by trying to help? Just try moving again and everything will be fine.

 He couldn’t keep the mental mantra up when he heard- when he felt his ribs crack from the pointless force. She was killing him, he didn’t need help breathing, he had to get it through to them no matter how much his body buzzed and resisted his need to move. He had to focus and push through it, ignoring how cold and wrong it felt, how it seemed like he was squirming free of something that didn’t want him to go.

 Her bone crushing assault stopped once he got his arm up, not even needing to touch her before she froze. The fear was wrong, out of place so he redoubled his efforts, twisting and struggling against himself, the sticky mass that wasn’t letting him act or speak to calm them down.

 The phone hit the floor. He heard it. So why didn’t dad say anything? Danny twisted, wanting to make sure he was okay. Still stuck. At least he had a hand free and most of an arm, the edges of his fingers tracing the tiles of the floor. He could brace himself that way, pushing down hard to try and jar his shoulder loose. He could hear air moving, like a harsh breath out. Good- breathing was good. Even when it sounded so harsh and low. 

 “Jack- are you seeing what I’m seeing?” Maddie moved back, giving him the space he wanted ever since she’d cracked his ribs. They still stung under his skin, hissing at him to keep his parents away before he managed to get even more injuries over something so silly.

 “I’m not sure what we’re seeing.” The phone remained on the floor.

 That didn’t seem right. He’d sat up, mostly. Half sat up, propped up with an arm. Still mostly stuck and uncomfortable, the snapping and crackling sensation still clinging to his free shoulder. Really, he felt worse than how he started. at least there wasn’t pain in ‘hah my body is playing freeze tag without me’ land. The pulling sensation made his head ache and vision swim to the point he wasn’t actually sure if he was still looking at the ceiling or not. He couldn’t go back to just being frozen though, that’d suck. So just convince the rest of himself to get up. No problem!

Were lies in his head always this unconvincing? It felt like yanking himself free of a too sticky slime, strands clinging and tugging back until they finally snapped, parts still stuck but free of the main mass. At least ectoplasm had the decency not to stretch when you got drenched in it most of the time.  Come on, focus and keep it together.  He let out a wheeze as the last stubborn strands snapped, ignoring how loud it sounded to properly reorient himself.

 Sitting up, properly, good! Parents staring with weird, half horrified expressions: bad. Very, very bad. 

“I’m okay, I just fell.” Danny spoke, he could speak properly again. So why? “Sorry for scaring you guys?” He tried again, trying to ignore the first thought across his mind.

 They kept staring. Maddie seemed to be recovering, shoulders starting to relax, but she seemed to be reaching for her belt.

 He didn’t sound right. No, that wasn’t quite right, he just sounded wrong for Danny  Fenton. Who he should be right now, he hadn’t been able to talk, let alone go ghost. This probably looked really, really bad. How had he switched, anyway?

Mom was reaching for a gun, wasn’t she? Crud. Now he regretted talking at all, how was he going to explain why Danny Phantom was treating two ghost hunters like his parents? Or how he managed to look like their kid. Maybe he could change back and convince them they were seeing things?

Yeah no, that was way too dumb.

 “Wait.” Jack rested a hand on his wife’s shoulder, causing her to stop pulling the weapon. He wasn’t looking at the ghost at all, just her. Maddie remained stiff, not able to ignore the glowing kid on her floor.

 Okay...dad was usually the gung ho one. Maybe he could get away with this? Danny tried to get a better grip on the situation. Felt a new pain, sharp and cold in his throat. Deep green scars clashed against his white gloves and ran all across his jumpsuit,  glow intensifying as the panic choked him into silence. Fresh and angry like back- back before he managed to stumble out of the portal when he died when the accident happened.

With his human arms just as scared below them, still against the tile. The damage looked old, half scabbed over with only a dull glow deep in the death marks wounds. His arms attached to the rest of his body- that he was half out of. 

 Why? How was his body still and silent while he was sitting and looking at it. He’s cold. His body is cold. It isn’t  breathing  there isn’t some other facet of his personality sitting behind the dull blue eyes. This isn’t how it works! If he splits, it’s just temporary, he can fix it but his other half- corpse is wrong.

The pulling and clinging at his legs doesn’t feel like slime anymore. Rotting flesh that wants to drag him back, smother him in a cloying warmth that will only remind him why it burned, how it hurt. He had to move, he couldn’t stay half like this, it would get better once it wasn’t like this.

It didn’t want to let go as he tried to pull away, ectoplasm getting snagged on every nerve and muscle fiber, each pause a reminder of the shock and pain of his end that day.

He knew he screamed when he pulled free and slammed into the wall, furious green scars still marring his jumpsuit where there should be none.

 What would Mom and Dad think?

 No no no no no. He spotted movement from them and acted. He couldn’t let his mom break his body more, or look at it too closely. Dad couldn’t see what happened! This was fine, he could fix this!

 He grabbed his corpse and fled through the wall.