#a ficlet supposedly lol

[searchingforserendipity25]

AU-gust fic prompt:

Locked in a room + There was only one bed, in combination with

"I'll take care of it, don't worry!"

"How long has it been since you've slept?"

Thank you @ymfingsteadilyon! <3

Prompt from this list of AUs, my ask box is always open!

-

There were not many formal inns left to Minas Tirith after the battle at its gates, and the coming of the Rohirrim. Most operated informally, and some families, moved by need and by sympathy, opened the spaces of their vacated houses, the empty rooms of sons made swiftly useful in the grim certainty of their never-return.

"Do not expect food to go with the board. I can find you a place, but the window is boarded, and there is but one bed," the matron said briskly.

Maglor's mouth tightened, as did the hand with which he carried their light satchel, empty of even the last of their bread.

Daeron had grown used to his quick speech, and made a point to speak more quickly still. They had walked the long way from the Bay of Belfalas, making swift time with little rest, and Daeron wished dearly for a lightless place to rest his aching head.

He bowed, in a fashion older than the wrecked city of Minas Tirith, or the first ancient fortress to ever bear that name. "That is well, and better than well. We are most grateful for your hospitality."

"Repair my old loom and mend the hinges as you promised, and be gone by noon of the third day," Mother Morwen said, and sent them off.

The lady of the house looked at them not quite trustingly as they climbed the steps of the crooked staircase, not turning eyes eyes away. She was keen, as some Gondorians were, to sense a working of power when in its presence; though Daeron thought she would not have welcomed them at all, if she found anything to fear or disdain in their bearing.

A light enchantment concealed the strangeness of their appearance among Men. It could not hide the marks of battle on them - Daeron's still healing scratch, stark and ugly on his temple, the slow,  stiff way Maglor moved his knee. They had sought to appear to have the look of straggling soldiers, delayed from the host returning from the Gates of Mordor, and the guise was easy to chant and easy to hold, being very close to the truth.

The room itself was a narrow, slanting garret: a narrow, slanting window lit the caulked walls, cast changeful blue light upon the floating dust in the air.

Daeron rubbed at his cheek, avoiding the wound to his face, and thought wearily of rising once more, and filling the empty ewer, and washing his face as it needed to be washed.

In the end, they made the way northwards and westwards for the coronation. 

It had been a long debate. Maglor, self-wise with long reflection by the waters, avoided yielding lightly on any appeal to heart or loyalty or despair; and Daeron disliked the cities of Men greatly, for their sounds and smell, the cacophony of voices and all the mingled impression of many thousand mortal, splendid, forceful lives bound together in the Music.

Their songs had done grave damage to Sauron in the lands to the East of Ithilien for many years. A slow and gruelling and silent campaign, of enchanted groves and illusions raised up to trick passing bands of Gorthaur’s emissaries, to thwart chariots. To give time, and cover, and safety to the fleeing refugees that were at times forced to flee from their homes, for defying Sauron’s influence and rule and enslaving dominion. 

And now, to hesitate to undertake this journey, after so many others through torment and danger!

All things considered, it would have been rather remiss of them not to make the journey. For one thing, the songs to mark the end of one Age and the start of another must perforce be as excellent as they could be; and neither of them could offer a better wedding gift than their music.

They had laid out arguments for days before deciding, each taking one position one day, and another the next; convinced and unconvinced each other and themselves. Because both of them wished to go, and neither wished to admit it, they had gone on in silence.

It filled the small room, the quiet, followed their shadows against the wall. Already Maglor turned the room's single narrow stool. Before Daeron had sat himself down on the edge of the mattress, he had already turned the stool to face the door, and laid down his lute and long knife ready on his lap where he sat.

"There is no need to worry," he said at last, sensing Daeron's hesitation. "I will keep watch."

“Assuredly not,” Daeron said at once. “And let you keep us both awake with your nerves?"

“I am not beset by anything, much less the nerves,” Maglor said, very dignified, as if he had not spent all the resting hours of their few pauses on the way pacing by the fire, turning a flute between his fingers ceaselessly, eyes distant, set upon a distant past, and a near future. 

Daeron had not generally kept watch at all, for many years; he slept where he would in the wild, and heard the murmurs of the land’s movement as he slept. Danger did not touch him but lightly, for centuries.

That had been before Sauron grew in power, and sent his servants after him, seeking to claim him and use him. Daeron had not slept many nights since without Maglor keeping wary vigil - the palm of his cursed hand raised up, a threat and warning to the world that something foul was awake and listening.

 They had joined their journeys together, they two travelers, both very aware of the danger they courted in evading capture and the danger they might be if captured.

It had been a difficult choice to make, and a difficult life to lead; but it had been easy, very easy, in the end, to let the closeness of a hundred nights under the stars and days spent in quiet turn to shared song, and to a shared life. 

These were not his safe wandering places of years long lost. And yet - and yet, it was the end of an Age. Another one was starting. They had felt it, rising as the sun over cold mist in the days after Sauron’s defeat; a new Age, with very little of ancient lore and ancient power in it. 

“There is no danger,” Daeron said more softly, and knew it was true as he spoke. “How long has it been since last thou hast slept? This is the king’s city, and this the king’s peace. I find it very unlikely we should be beset by wraiths and assassins and robbers tonight, in this place, with how long we have spent guarding the king’s lands already. For one thing, it would lack any poetic beauty at all.” 

“Some poetic justice, perhaps,” said Maglor, who was always a little sore about his own guilt. But the stained line of mouth did ease, a little; and he set aside blade and instrument, and sat beside him him instead.

Daeron sighed. The feelings of the body beside him, familiar and ever-warm, eased the strain on his muscles. He could feel Maglor settling close, slowly, in a rare easing of tension.

There was peace, then, in the small room facing one of the seven broken city walls.

It was a strange notion, and a strange estrangement. Even now, scarred and weary to the bone, Daeron did not think of himself as a warrior. His king was dead, his lady, his teacher, his city; his part in the Music diminished, turned to small, unknown deeds, feats remembered by none, except in short-lived legends, and the memory of his companion.

He was but a wanderer, and not much given to wandering among the company of mortals at that. He had avoided war for many years, and fought in the shadows only. Had avoided the speech of speaking creatures altogether, and spoken to birds only, and then only to Maglor, and to what few people they met. He had not sought glory; he had not sought joy, though he had chosen it, when it grew into a thing that could be had.

Maglor sighed from deep in his chest, with a weariness Daeron felt as his own. His hand, when it held Daeron's, felt as heavy and graceful and terrible as the first time Daeron had taken it, and the closeness just as sweet when his eyes creased for him.

"How long hast it been since thou hast slept? Aye, very well. Let us have some rest, and put aside poetry for a time."

They slept wrapped close together, that night; and in the morning they washed themselves well, and went into the wrecked galleries where there were already markets of fruit and bread operating once more, and sellers offered salted fish from Dol Amroth in honour of the day's celebration; and the grey dawn opened over the splintered and shattered colonnades of the market square.

In the evening, there was the wedding of Elessar, the King returned; and of Arwen, called Undómiel, as fair and noble as Lúthien who danced in the meadows and glades of Menegroth. 

There was a wedding to be had; and the singing, all agreed, was surpassingly beautiful.

[cha-melodius]

firstprince +💚

💚 true love's kiss / magic kiss / healed (I said no more than 500 words and of course this is 589 lol. Sorry for the cliffhanger; I just can't help myself. send me a heart and get a ficlet)

When the summons comes, Henry refuses to believe it’s real.

It is, course—heavy paper, dark ink, embossed seal. Your assistance is respectfully requested concerning a matter of some urgency…

Henry doesn’t read the rest. He knows what it says. The whole world knows what it says. Every since the American President’s son was cursed and fell into a deep and unending slumber, which was supposedly only able to be cured by true love’s kiss, there’d been a steady stream of hopeful girls through the White House. Still, Alex remained stubbornly asleep. Henry hadn’t heard of any men being invited, though, which is one reason he’s convinced this was a mistake.

“The palace staff must have mixed up our mail,” he tells Bea, trying unsuccessfully to shove the invitation at her.

Bea just gives him an exasperated look. “It has your name on it.”

“Then someone at the White House made an error in addressing it.”

“Because ‘Beatrice’ is so close to ‘Henry’. Happens all the time, really. The other day I got a polo club invitation meant for you.”

“Really?” Henry asks.

“No,” she huffs. “This is for you, dumbass.”

Henry stares down at it, chewing his lip. “But why me? Out of everyone else?”

“You didn’t hear?” Bea asks, cocking an eyebrow at him.

“Hear what?” He’s been actively trying not to read news about Alex’s condition, actually.

“It’s supposed to be someone he’s touched before. Otherwise, he’d still be awake. Someone must have remembered you two shaking hands in Rio.”

“But Alex hates me,” he says plaintively. This is, of course, the other reason this must be a mistake.

“So, now’s your chance,” Bea tells him with far too much mischief sparkling in her eyes. “Go lay one on him, and he’ll never remember.”

“Bea,” Henry gasps, horrified. “I would never—”

She rolls her eyes at him. “It was a joke, Haz. But the fact of the matter is that you don’t have much of a choice. Think of how it would look for international relations if the Crown refused a request from the President.”

And so, Henry finds himself with sweating palms and his heart in his throat, staring down at the most beautiful boy in the world as he lays sleeping in his bedroom at the White House. The First Family are all wan and sallow as his interminable condition wears on them, but Alex himself looks vibrant, as if he’d just nodded off. Perks of magic sleep, Henry supposes. A terrifying woman in stilettos and pencil skirt gives Henry instructions that he barely hears, then they all file out to wait.

Henry wrings his hands and twists his signet ring and shifts on his feet, knowing he can’t put this off for much longer. He’s not sure what he’s more terrified of—that it won’t work, or that it will.

“I’m sorry, Alex,” he murmurs. For the past, for this, for what may come.

He leans in—and hesitates. The aroma of cinnamon strikes him, drawing him in like a gravitational field he can’t escape, and he sways closer. When their lips brush, Henry feels it—not the kiss, but the fire that it kindles under his skin, the flame that flashes down his spine and out to his toes, the inferno that sets him alight. It’s too much, it’s going to burn him up—

Alex’s lips part and he gasps, long eyelashes fluttering as he wakes, and Henry stumbles backwards. He stares at Henry, rubs his eyes, then looks again.

“It's you?!”

[onmyyan]

I’m curious mainly because I personally get high through edibles only since my lungs aren’t the best so I was wondering if that would be a lil hurdle or not should a darling ( me 😔) ever want to hang around Marcos

I know he deals weed but I also like the mental image of the guy stinking up the kitchen and having to air it out before anyone else got home and then making jello or gummies or smth. Maybe even weed brownies or cookies. Cas scratching his head and wondering where the good vanilla from Madagascar went…

Also sorry for spamming your inbox as of late lol, I’m practically using your ocs and yandere content to keep my writing spirit alive at this point💀💀you leave such nice comments that I just want to do more ahdjsj ))

Ahh don't be sorry I'm always so thrilled whenever I see your username pop up in my inbox cuz I know I'm bout to eat 😈 like interactions with y'all are my favorite part about running this blog, I appreciate every comment and ficlet and everything 💖

As for Marcos he is a serious pothead but if smoking bothers you in anyway he'll figure out a way to do it that makes you both happy.

He'll invest in those neat smoker tools you can blow into that supposedly neutralize the smell but also he the type to smoke, boom you text you're dropping by as a sweet surprise and just fuckin sprints to change, moving so fast he stumbles and trips, he will open every window in the house doesn't matter if it's -0 degree's outside he'd endure anything to keep his sweet baby nice n comfy

[star-going-supernova]

You wrote a few times about the old animatronics and Vanessa would you mind writing about them and Gregory?

Maybe the new animatronics are jealous over how much time Gregory is spending with them. Or just how the old animatronics admire Gregory for sticking up to good ol SpringB***h and how brave and kind he is.

Gregory deserves an army of animatronics that would kill for him and adore him.

That just reminded me of the meme “I only had __ for a day and a half and if anything happens to him I would kill everyone in this room then myself” lol

We’ve got tumblr generated prompt number 16 here! I got waaaay too into the setup for this, lol, so it’s a bit long. Who am I kidding, a bunch of the ficlets for this round have been longer than usual. And I don’t know why, but when I write the OG bots in SB’s setting, I have a preference for leaving them silent. 

Speedrunning a Family

On that first night, so full of panic and running around and grabbing only what he needed before he could be cornered, Gregory barely spared a second glance at the dusty animatronics packed into a room in the basement. The only real thought he had about them was the hope that they wouldn’t join the hunt as yet more potential threats to his life. And then he forgot about them, and they never did make an appearance, and that was that. 

After, though, after murderers were caught and viruses were removed and injuries healed up, Gregory remembered the four worn-down animatronics. And he got curious. 

He spent a lot of his days and nights in the pizzaplex now that no one was trying to kill him, and his new robot friends were pretty busy during the day, leaving Gregory to entertain himself. 

What could be more entertaining than investigating the animatronics who, he was told, were the very first iterations of the band? 

It was easy as anything, sneaking around places he definitely wasn’t supposed to be. No one, not guest or employee or robot, noticed the boy slipping through supposedly secure doors and down hallways that were off limits to the public. It was barely a challenge at all, even, compared to the absolute STAFF-bot-infested hell the pizzaplex had been on That Night. 

They were right where Gregory remembered they were, a bear, bunny, fox, and chicken tucked away in the shadows, forgotten. 

Almost forgotten. 

He sneezed a few times as he poked around them, and that was hardly stealthy. Being furry instead of smooth plastic and metal made it harder to clean them up, but Gregory was highly motivated and refused to get caught because of a dust bunny. 

They didn’t look so bad once all the dust and grime was wiped away. Clearly well-used, yeah, and with their fair share of dents and tears, but the suits were still fluffy and soft no matter how discolored they were. 

It took more time and effort to find a way to recharge their dead batteries than it did to clean them, but again—highly motivated. Gregory simply refused to back down from a challenge, especially when the reward was so promising. To his luck, all the stuff related to these particular animatronics had been shoved into the same storage room. Once he found the charging cables—much easier to deal with than stations—it was merely a matter of fixing up some exposed wiring and dealing with a bit of rust, but it was only a few days after Gregory initially set out on his quest that he got them all recharging. 

He sat back with a book, stayed close to the door just in case, and waited.

• • •

It seemed fitting, in a way, that Freddy was the first to power up. His head lifted from its slouch forward surprisingly smoothly, his blue eyes flickering a bit before firmly staying on. Gregory watched with bated breath as he looked around. 

In silence, Freddy examined Chica, Bonnie, and Foxy—Gregory had done his research—where they were still limp and shut down. And then he noticed Gregory, sitting on the floor a few feet away. He blinked at Gregory; the snap of his eyelids coming down was audible in the quiet room. 

Unafraid, Gregory waved. He had considered whether he should be on his guard and prepare to shoot up and sprint from the room at the first sign of trouble but ultimately deemed it unnecessary. Even if only because these bots were bulkier than the Glamrocks, and he doubted Freddy would be able to stand quickly. 

After a brief pause, Freddy reached up and tipped his little top hat in greeting. 

Gregory beamed and scooted closer. “I’m Gregory. Do you know where you are?” This was the moment of truth. Were these old animatronics aware the way the Glamrocks were? Or were they no more advanced than the stupid STAFF bots? He crossed his fingers. 

Freddy examined the room at large for a moment, then shook his head. Undeterred by the silence, Gregory inched closer still. 

“It’s storage,” he explained, and Freddy watched him attentively. “We’re in the basement of another pizzeria. Yours is gone—sorry—so I guess you could consider this your retirement.” 

And though Freddy’s mouth didn’t move, deep, echoing laughter came from within him, and he shifted back against the wall in a way that read as getting comfy. 

Oh, they were going to get along just fine.

• • •

The Glamrock animatronics never seemed quite sure what to do with the four old ones. Freddy—Gregory’s Freddy, or maybe, his first Freddy—had said they didn’t talk ever, not even over their internal communications system. Other than some programmed sound bites, like Freddy’s laughter, they relied solely on gestures and body language to communicate. 

And Gregory, as it turned out, found it an easy language to learn. 

He loved all the bots—though not necessarily equally, heh—and that most certainly included the old models. Partly as a joke, given their age, and partly because he couldn’t reasonably go around calling both Freddys by name, he started calling the older one Grandpa Freddy. Then it shortened to just Grandpa, then Pops, and, well, there were two Chicas too, and even with Glamrock Bonnie gone, it would have been confusing, and then Foxy got huffy about it, and at that point, Gregory would have felt bad about leaving him out. 

So that was how he ended up with a father figure in Freddy, assorted aunts and uncles (and grunkle for Foxy because such a crinkly looking word fit best for him, and Foxy liked having a title all of his own) across both generations, and Nana for Chica and Pops. 

Gregory was living the dream: he had literally gone from zero to nearly a dozen family members, and he’d bite anyone who said they couldn’t be his family on account of them being robots. 

It occurred to him at some point that maybe the buried pizzeria had been theirs, so one night, he brought them down. And as they explored the ruins of the building with nostalgic familiarity, Gregory told them about the monster even further below them, the one that had tried very hard to kill him. 

He told them of how he had killed the monster instead. 

Pops fell still as Gregory finished describing the final showdown. He turned slowly from where he stood in front of the broken stage, and his eyes were dim. 

That could mean any number of things. “Pops?” Gregory asked, swinging his feet beneath the wobbly table he’d taken a seat on. “You okay?” 

The others all stayed where they were, watching in silence. He was used to their quiet, but even this felt different. Pops walked up to him, his feet scuffing against the debris littering the floor. 

With a burst of static, a crackly recording played from Pops’s speakers. It wasn’t a sound bite, wasn’t anything Gregory’d ever heard before. It was a proper recording, a memory brought to life. 

It wasn’t much, just a man laughing. But it wasn’t really a happy sort of laugh. 

After a moment, Gregory recognized it. The monster had laughed too, when it seemed that he would succeed in taking over Freddy. 

“Oh,” he said. 

Pops’s body heaved a little, like a great sigh, and then he was reaching out to scoop Gregory up. He was maybe a little below average height-wise for his age—malnutrition did him no favors—but he never felt smaller or lighter than he did when any of the animatronics effortlessly picked him up and cuddled him close to their chest. 

He wondered, as he latched on to Pops’s soft fur, if this was a hug to comfort him or Pops. No good could come from knowing the monster, and if what he’d almost done to Freddy and the others was any indication, Gregory doubted any animatronic who crossed the monster’s path came away better for it. Whatever the four original robots had witnessed or were unwillingly part of, he didn’t know. He didn’t have to know. 

Gregory pressed his forehead to the curve of Pops’s jaw. “I’m here,” he reassured him. “And you’re here, and he’s not. He’s gone.” 

As ever, Pops didn’t respond with words. His hand pressed a little more firmly into Gregory’s back, holding him tight. It felt a bit like agreement and relief and maybe a touch of protective anger that the monster had been a threat to Gregory at all. 

“C’mon,” he muttered. “Let’s get out of here.” 

A hum that was more vibration than sound answered him, and Pops turned to leave the pizzeria without releasing Gregory. He huffed in amusement and rolled his eyes over Pops’s shoulder at the others as if to say can you believe this guy? 

They left the buried building behind, and Gregory got the feeling that they wouldn’t be returning any time soon. 

[mortumslab]

WIP Wednesday!

it's thursday but i got tagged last night by @glitchy-npc and @ladyshivs this morning, oops.

Tagging: @darkfire1177, @noxetvanitas, and @capricule

As far as Fallen Hero stuff, working on the next RtbH series. Which hasn't made it past the plot stage (lol). But right now also working on ficlet with Julia Ortega confronting Arya at her birthday party supposedly during Book 3!

"Don't you fucking dare leave. We're not done." She steps towards you.

"What are you gonna do? Arrest me? I could break every bone in your body. I could kill the others out there, too."

"But you fucking won't!"

"How do you know?"

You're both yelling now. Unless Argent got the crowd away from the doors, they're going to know Heartbreak is a woman. And that she knows Julia intimately.

"Because I fucking know you." She screams in your face. She's a few inches shorter, but she's nearly nose-to-nose with you.

"Do you?" You ask, yelling back and stepping forward. In her face now.

And then the ever-present IF Remnants: Disruption,

Hot. She is incredibly attractive.

Her eyes bore into you. Seemingly seeing more of you than others do. It's one reason you always like working with her. She actually sees you for you, not for your powers. So, your relationship slowly became a flirty one. Nothing had happened between you, though. Not yet.

Taking her hand, to which her eyebrows imperceptibly raise, you say, "Thank you, Percy." Using the nickname you'd given her when you first started working together.

She gives your hand a gentle squeeze.

"Do you want to talk about it?" She looks like she genuinely wants to know. It's been hard for you to trust people in this city, but the look on her face makes you want to try.

[cryptid-jack]

(just a quick sketch of Joker and Vega + a bonus ficlet, lol.)

“Dammit, Jefe, what’s your scrawny ass doing out of bed?” Vega groused when he found Jeff leaning against the mess table pouring over a data pad, mostly empty mug of coffee perched precariously next to his hip. It was, supposedly, the middle of the pilot’s sleep cycle, but here he was, wide awake and working rather than getting a good eight hours.

As usual.

Jeff blinked and looked up at the marine’s approach, brow furrowed in confusion as he looked back down at his data pad. “You’re back on time? You people never get back on time,” he said and rubbed absently at his eyes with long, thin fingers. “And shut up, what are you, my mom? I’ve only been off shift an hour.”

James rolled his eyes and snatched the datapad from Jeff’s grip then tossed it on the table so it slid well out of reach towards the opposite end. “We’re three hours overdue, actually, cabron, which means you shoulda been in bed four hours ago.” James huffed. “And forget your mom─I’ll report you to the doc. You know she’s been on that busted ass of yours about getting enough sleep.”

“Yeah, well,��� the pilot grumbled, though from the way he wasn’t quite meeting James’ eyes, the marine knew he’d struck a nerve. Before he could threaten Jeff further, however, the man crossed his arms over his narrow chest and drawled, “Wanted to wait up but someone was late.”

“You’re gonna try and blame you being sleep deprived on me?” James scoffed. “That’s some bullshit and you know it,“ he said and poked the other man lightly in the chest. Anyone else he would have jabbed, but getting closer to Joker had taught him gentleness in a way nothing else ever had.

Everything in his life had conditioned James to toughness, even before he’d signed up with the marines. Gentleness wasn’t something he’d gotten a lot of practice at growing up until he and Jeff had stumbled unexpectedly into this... thing they had now. This thing that had started as a friendship forged in a shared sense of humor and grown into something else entirely.

Well, alright, their favorite past time was still mercilessly teasing their ship-mates, but now they shared a bunk more often than they didn’t and James had gone and developed a protective streak for the prickly, sarcastic pilot.

“Damn right I am,” Jeff groused and brushed James’ hand away then stepped in close, still a good couple of inches taller than the marine even with his permanent slouch. “It’s fuckin’ freezing in the bunkroom.”

“And that’s my fault?” James countered dryly, though he didn’t back up, just cut the other man a wry look and tried to suppress the smug smile threatening at the corners of his mouth. He knew exactly what Jeff was trying to get at, but he liked hearing him say it anyways.

Jeff took another step closer so there was a scant inch between them, then dropped his head so his forehead met James’, the contact pushing the bill of his cap up in the process. “Uh, yeah? Look at me, what am I supposed to do, warm the bed up myself?”

“You have a heating pad in your locker, Jefe.”

Jeff huffed again, thin lips twisting before he heaved a dramatic sigh and said, “Alright, fine, and I missed you, okay? Gross, I can’t believe you made me say that out loud. What do I even see in you?”

James flashed the pilot a wicked grin then reached out to grab Jeff by the waist and pull the man in gently against him. “Dio, you’re a pain in my ass,” he said with a low chuckle.

“I mean, it’s a great ass, I’ll give you that,” Jeff countered as he reached down and grabbed the marine’s backside appreciatively before letting his hand drift up to his back and looping one arm across James’ shoulders. For all his jokes, though, a genuinely fond smile curled the corners of the man’s mouth as he leaned in and stole a kiss.

The marine laughed again and leaned into the contact rather than pull away. When they broke, James lead the way back to the bunkroom and let Jeff pretend the arm he kept slung across his broad shoulders was a friendly one and not much needed support for his over-taxed body.

“You’re not gonna tell Chakwas, right?” Jeff asked, voice low to keep from waking their ship-mates occupying the other bunks around them.

James cracked one eye open to look down at the pilot where he lay with his back pressed into the marine’s chest, head pillowed on his arm. It was a tight fit, both of them in one bunk, but they’d worked out an arrangement that suited the both of them, and if James was being honest, he didn’t sleep much better than Jeff did when they were apart these days.

“Depends on how fast you get to sleep,” he said and tweaked the pilot’s ear.

“I’m gone, I’m gone,” Jeff insisted and settled down lower under the blankets, pushing his chill feet between Jame’s legs to warm them. “I’m sleep talking, I swear.”

James snorted and smiled into the crown of Jeff’s messy, red-brown hair.

[inevitably-johnlocked]

Five Fics Friday: Jan. 14/22

Happy Friday everyone!! So glad it’s the weekend... only been back to work for a week and I already need another holiday, LOL. 

Hope you enjoy these fics, and please give some love to these new fics and authors in the Boosted fics, and a couple more added to my MFL list :) Cheers!

SIGNAL BOOSTING

Tonight's so very different by The_Spiral_Staircase (NR, 349 w., 1 Ch. || 221B Ficlet, Ill-Timed Love, Melancholy Memory, One Sided Pining, Angst, One Night Stand) – That a one-night stand can mean different things to different people is certainly no news, although it can be a hard-earned truth. Even for high and mighty Sherlock Holmes.

The Liar and The Lost by yesthankyouforyourinput (M, 38,459 w., 11 Ch. || Post TRF, Angst, Grieving, Depictions of Violence, Alcoholism, Established Relationship, Country Hopping, Depression, Guns, Anal/Oral Sex, Depictions of Torture, Blood, Injury, BAMF John, Slow Burn, Anderson's Fan Club) – 'You should take a look at this - A' And with that, John was on the next flight out. A cheap airport coffee in his hands and all of his necessary possessions in his backpack. If he was going after him, he had to be silent. Untraceable. He needed to find out what the hell was going on out there, even if it killed him. He had heard his call to action.

Emergency by EmeraldUrAFreak (M, 40,353 w., 24 Ch. || Teenlock AU || Teen Romance, Drug Use, Angst, Hospitalized John, Broken John, John Whump, Absent Parents, Sherlock Fixing John, Insecure John, Younger John, Older Sherlock, Helping Each Other, Papa Lestrade, Case Fic, Alternating POV, Mild Gore, Horror, Non-Graphic Violence, Corpses) – Recovering drug addict Sherlock Holmes meets supposedly permanently hospital stuck John Watson. As they become friends- and maybe even more - they have ups and downs finding out each other’s pasts. Sherlock is shocked at how deep John's goes resulting in a case of new stakes. Fixing old relations and creating new ones that are hard to keep in this dreadful time. They never knew what was waiting around the corner.

RECENT MFLs

My Heart Beats For You by jalexandria (M, 1,212 w., 1 Ch. || Hanahaki Disease AU || TLD Divergence, Angst, Non-Canonical Character Death, Sad Ending, Drugs, Pining Sherlock, Hurt John, Death Fic) – Things go very, very badly when John makes a horrible mistake.

Until the End of my Days by chervilspotatoes (M, 20,272 w., 20 Ch. || Merlin Crossover / Medieval Magical AU || Sorcerer Sherlock, Prince John, Pining Sherlock, Developing Relationship, Teenlock, Servant Sherlock, BAMF Sherlock, BAMF John, Heroic Sherlock, Misunderstandings, Alternating POV, Protective Greg, Love Confessions, Soul Bond / Mates, Happy Ending) – Sherlock learns to embrace his destiny as Prince John's protector, but soon realizes he is in love with the unavailable prince. However, this knowledge does not stop him from staying by John's side as John becomes king and faces unforeseen circumstances.

[kai-keda]

Cowards Die Many Times | DreamSMP Fanfic

Wow okay so I literally JUST made a post flat-out making fun of myself for writing this but in the tags I made a comment of “Should I post this?” and wow three people already reblogged with comments expressing I share.

So, you can thank (or blame lol) @thesmpisonfire @tommyistheprotagofthesmp and @ak3m0n for this being posted here at all. Depending on what the response to this is on here, I may or not post it on a03 and, again, depending on the response, I may or may not make this a sort of collection of one-shots detailing different death scenes and how the characters felt in those moments.

A/N:

THIS IS NOT ABOUT THE REAL LIFE STREAMERS!

I view the DreamSMP storyline as a sort of Dungeons and Dragons game with no real DM. Just players running around a world that they create as they go along and cause whatever chaotic instances and plot points they can manage. As such, while I write this and as you read this I want you to remember - burn into your brain - that this story isn’t about the real Minecraft streamers. They aren’t even streamers in this fic, they are fictional characters living in a made-up fictional world. I get that the line is blurred due to the nature of the videos this is based on, but I view it as being sort of like how when you write a character like Spiderman, you’re writing Spiderman, not Tobey Maquire.

All that being said, I really wanted to just write this concept of how death and respawn works with Tubbo from a certain festival event but as it turns out, he is very uncomfortable with the concept of fanfiction written about him. (Thank you SMP-boundaries for your God sent Tumblr) As such, even though I don’t see it as me writing literally him as I’m sure he’s seen plenty of, I won’t include anything from his perspective and try to limit any sort of mention of him. (I can’t bring myself to surgically remove him entirely. That would just be impossible because of how much of a part he plays both in what visibly happens and in Tommy’s development) ALSO PLEASE do not go out of your way and tag or try to show any of the Minecraft streamers/youtubers involved in this (not that y’all would lol). I happen to know that Tommy especially doesn’t want to see them even if he’s okay with them existing.

This was also meant to be a sort of collection of ficlets in one chapter. It was going to include more than this one scene and even include a POV from Wilbur but, uh, wow I got really carried away heh

SO YEAH! Now we got the important bits out of the way, please enjoy~

Cowards Die Many Times

“Do I shoot him Wil, or do I aim for the skies?” It was a heavy question. So heavy he couldn’t bring himself to raise his head. As they stood together and allowed the light reflecting off the water shine on them in a subtle way, Tommy considered his options. The answer should have been obvious. After all, this was war and this duel was their ticket to end it all and free themselves from their previous leader. The one Wil and he had labeled as a tyrant.

Dream.

“Tommy I -” A pause. Tommy looked up at his general. The only man he would ever take orders from. Wilbur Soot. He could see in his eyes that he had messed up. This was a burden Tommy couldn’t handle anymore. The deafening silence lasted for all of two seconds but it felt like eternity. He would never know for sure what Wilbur thought of his outburst and challenge towards their worst enemy, but the answer he received relaxed him. If only for a bit.

“I want you to do whatever your heart tells you.”

Tommy took a deep breath and relaxed it before turning around and going towards the man who hid behind a mask.

“Coward.” He whispered to himself. When he thought the word, he believed it was for Dream but now that he felt it leave his mouth and heard the shake of his voice, he wasn’t sure if it was for himself or not.

He walked to the center of the wooden path and held his bow tight. The tyrant, with his bright green hoodie that seemed to act as a target and challenge, laughed with his friends. With George and Sapnap. As if he felt this was all a game and after he won it would all be over with him holding more than bragging rights. The worst of the scene was that even Eret - the traitor - joined in their fun.

With such thoughts running through his mind, it’s no wonder the decision Tommy came to.

They needed their independence.

And Tommy had the perfect opportunity.

He knew what death felt like. He had nearly grown used to it. Maybe that’s why he was always so quick to start fights, skirmishes and even join wars. That was probably why he felt no regret with this decision to challenge the immediate area’s strongest member.

But if he was so used to death, then why did he shake so much?

Dream finally left his friends behind to watch as he walked towards Tommy. The younger of the two swallowed his nerves and did his best to glare. The smiling mask stared him down. Was Dream glaring under there? Was he shaking within the loosely fit hoodie? Was he…

“Are you taking this seriously at all, Dream?”

“Oh, I don’t know. This seems pretty easy.”

Oh yeah, Tommy was killing him for sure. To hell with any sort of ‘honor’ that supposedly came with throwing away ones shot in a duel, Dream was officially a dead man.

“Remember, Tommy,” Dream stated with his usual calmness, “when I win, you give me the disk, Mellohi, and you all give up this silly tantrum for good.”

Tommy glared even harder as now he was angrier than ever. Dream was always after his music disks, his most prized possessions in this God forsaken land. Betting one of them was worth it if it meant seizing total and complete independence forever for this wonderful vision Wilbur had shared with him.

He thought briefly about the disks. About why they were so treasured by Dream and himself.

For Dream they were merely bargaining tools. Something he could use to keep Tommy under control and stop him from starting anymore fights with anymore members under Dreams thumb. The deal would be that if Tommy got involved in any sort of ‘griefing’ of any kind, Dream would burn the disks. Though, to be completely fair and honest, all of that had started with Sapnap burning an unrelated member's home and then dragging both of the now dueling men into the fight.

But for Tommy? These disks were everything. There was something nostalgic about the sound of music, as though there was something he had long forgotten from a time far behind him. It was incredibly rare where they lived to find such things and Tommy, Tommy had two of them. Each a different mixture of sounds that brought their own unique textures to his mind.

He was not about to throw away his shot.

A whisper entered his mind and he did his best to not give away who it was from. For someone to use this ability, one that made themselves freeze in place and become vulnerable, especially at a time like this, it was important. So he simply continued to glare at Dream.

‘There’s no turning back now, Tommy. Good luck out there. My right hand man.’

Tommy took a deep breath before yelling out as loud as he could. “LET’S FUCKING GOOOOOOOO!”

At the sound of yelling, Dream, Sapnap, George, Eret and even Tubbo - the only other member as young as the loud blonde child and one of their allies - all laughed. But the rest of his side? His makeshift army? They starred with an apathetic energy Tommy wasn’t sure what to feel about. All looked as though they had given up on this hopeless revolution. The humanoid fox and supposed child of the general, (it was unclear how serious he was of such a claim as it was never confirmed) Fundy, even went so far as to let out a sigh and shake his head.

He never was one to find such outbursts funny. It was as though he felt that Tommy treated this all as a simple game with no consequences. Yeah, he hadn’t experienced death nearly as many times as Tommy had, so maybe he did think more of it. 

Wilbur, however, was hardly monotone in his expression and voice. As he spoke his next line, he looked directly at Tommy for only a brief second with worry and, more importantly, sadness. Wilbur had also already given up but as Tommy thought over that look, he realized that Wilbur, the one who was always looking after him as though he were an older brother charged with watching over the youngest child, was apologizing for dragging him into this. For supposedly making Tommy experience the worst possible torture this crazy world had to offer over and over.

Death.

“Are both parties ready?” Wilbur had questioned. After that one look, he refused to even so much as glance at Tommy. The younger one understood. Wil could never help getting emotional in times like these, after all.

Tommy turned to look at his opponent and the damn man was putting on a show of yawning, hardly looking prepared. He really was that confident.

Tommy pointed an accusatory finger at the one who seemed to like to smile a bit too much and yelled out “Are you ready to experience death, Dream?! Cause I’m ready to cause it for you!”

Dream shrugged and stood straight, bow in hand at his side. “Let’s hurry and get this started.”

Wilbur, still not looking at Tommy and, more surprisingly, not saying anything about his outburst of a response, stated the rules of the duel.

Turn their backs to each other, count ten paces - no more, no less - and then fire on your opponent at will. The first to die wins the duel and the agreement.

Either Tommy loses one-half of his most prized possessions, or he gains independence for their nation.

The count began. Tommy thought about what it would be like to kill Dream like this. No tricks, no silly traps and no real plans from either of them. Just a single arrow making contact and he would be dead. It was almost unreal. He would be a hero and would be considered a total badass. Maybe everyone, both enemy and friend, would finally respect him.

The count hit four. His thoughts turned away from such happy fantasies. What if Dream wanted revenge? He never took losing very well. Rather, he took it harshly, and the Lord only knew what George would do to them in unofficial retaliation. Dream would probably lightly suggest George return the favor to Tommy in a whisper and then claim to wash his hands of the incident. Just for the satisfaction of showing power while keeping whatever peace they decide upon after all this.

The count hit seven. Tommy centered himself. Maybe it was a bad idea to allow himself to daydream at this time. He probably should’ve been scanning and studying the terrain thoroughly and thinking of how to use it to his advantage and of how the other could use it against him. Think of a plan or at least a vague idea of the literal millions if not infinite possibilities.

Like hell.

Tommy always thought of plans only when he was backed into a corner and even then he was well into a battle.

Dream was the one to come up with every possible outcome and choose one of nine where he won. Tommy refused to be like Dream.

The count hit ten.

Tommy turned quickly and fired. His arrow went off and almost hit Sapnap, someone who was once an ally, if only temporarily, in his and Dream’s initial war. Way further off his target than the young man was willing to accept.

There was no time to think and sit in denial of being such a terrible shot. No time to listen to Dreams lackies yell at him to be a better aim or watch Tubbo cover his eyes while Fundy simply shrugged as though expecting it. Dream’s first arrow went by his ear so fast he almost felt as though it could deafen him and the older of the two was already aiming his second shot while Tommy was stuck in disbelief.

Tommy quickly moved and jumped to avoid the arrow that he knew would hit him if he didn’t but instead of landing on the wooden path, he crashed into the water. The very lake - or was it a pond? - that served to decorate the land and create a nice scenic area to sit and enjoy time with friends around. Tommy had forgotten all about it just as everyone had probably predicted.

Just as Dream had predicted.

As no arrows came, Tommy figured that Dream was waiting for him to surface so he took the time to ponder on his decisions.

After all, there was no doubt they were coming to bite him in the ass. There was no chance of him getting out of the water and not getting shot to death by a single arrow from his worst enemy.

This was it.

He was going to die again.

How much would it hurt this time? How long would he be stuck in an area of nothingness as whatever God that created them formed a new body? Would he be able to see his friends, to see Wilbur, as they are forced to give away any hope of a special place they could call their own?

Would it be slow and torturous as his body reels from the pain or would it be instant and clean? He had no way of knowing any of these things. He had no way of knowing what this death would feel like as, in his experience, there was no rhyme or reason to any of it.

What would one day only sting for a bit as he was instantly brought back to life, would cause him to spasm and feel his heart stop and his lungs give up their air for what felt like hours. In that one case that comes to mind, to add insult to injury, he would be trapped in that plain area that was completely absent of light and life with no way to contact anyone he loved (or hated).

They all knew this.

They all agreed that the fear of what would happen as you see the attacks coming and you feel yourself growing weaker could only sometimes be worse than the experience itself.

Tommy felt torn by everything in a single moment. If they all knew this, then why did they fight in this war to begin with? Was it worth these moments of pure fear and terrible agony?

Whenever he would die he would return as though nothing ever happened despite his true thoughts and experience. He was not one to talk about things like ‘feelings’ or ‘emotions’. That was something for women and only women. No matter how much Wilbur would try to encourage him to be more open like Tubbo, Tommy was a man. And he was always fighting to prove it.

Yes.

He may be positive he’ll lose. He may be certain there is no chance of winning this duel, but Tommy made a decision in that moment as he swam to the other side of the path.

He was going to die but he’d be damned if he let himself be the cause of Wilbur’s hopes in the form of their very own L’Manberg crashing down forever and for good.

First, he had to make it look good so no one else would suspect what he had hiding in the deepest part of his mind. An actual plan.

He jumped from the lake and pointed his arrow directly at the mask and right between the eyes but before he could fire, he was hit.

Ah. This one was going to hurt.

[distant-velleity]

actually i don't want to dedicate a whole fic to this so i'm gonna dump some headcanons and a short ficlet (even though i also wrote a bunch of other scenes lol)

both floyd and yu don't seem like the type to have kids, but now they've stumbled across one! her name's allegra, she's 10, and she looks older than that from hitting her growth spurt early (it runs in the family)

and boy does she take after floyd

he finds her first, actually, when she spawns in nrc--- but she skedaddles away to ✨explore✨ and runs into yu

floyd chases after her and then they find out. oh. she really wasn't kidding about calling floyd "papa" and yu "dad" huh

so it's one hell of a roller coaster ride for them 😭 floyd is surprisingly good with kids and takes the whole "this is our kid from the future" thing in stride, but yu has many internal crises about it considering that 1) he's worried he'll pass on the generational trauma and 2) this suggests he and floyd decided to settle down to some degree in the future.

keep in mind this whole "future kid" thing takes place before they even get into a relationship proper ashkfjsdkfjsd

but somehow they manage, there are probably some feelings discussed, and allegra returns home without any more incidents

oh and other small stuff

floyd refers to allegra as an elver bc she is just a silly little gal (baby eel)

allegra was conceived via magic

~

and ermmm now some stuff :) there is a bit of angst but it's fiiine trust meeee

~

Somehow, their afternoon has turned into ‘family time’ at Ramshackle.

Allegra tackles Floyd onto the grass, her bubbly laughter drifting up and through the air. Their giggles are almost identical, elated and genuine and bright; there’s no denying that they’re related somehow. But when Allegra grins afterwards, there’s a lopsided angle to her smile that Yu sees in pictures of himself. 

She’s really our kid. 

From the porch, Yu watches them play-fight. He doesn’t know what kind of expression he has on right now, but it’s probably not a smile. Seven, he wishes he could smile right now, but it’s a little hard with the thoughts on his mind.

Don’t you love Papa? Allegra had asked. You got married. You used magic to have me.

‘Love.’ That was the problem he’d had with her question. That was the problem he had with everything, actually.

How do you tell a kid “I don’t really know what romantic love feels like?” Ahh, scratch that—how do you tell your kid that? Your kid, the daughter of you and your supposedly future husband? The kid that you supposedly agreed to have and stayed long enough to raise for at least ten years?

On the lawn, Floyd lifts Allegra into the air, eliciting high-pitched laughter as her gangly limbs swing around. 

Yu’s gaze traces the unrestrained openness of Floyd’s smile, how his predator’s teeth don’t deter the comparatively fragile child in his arms; how his eyes crinkle not in the threateningly narrow way, but in a playful way. How his hair glows in the sunlight when he throws his head back with joyful laughter erupting from his mouth. How right the whole scene looks. 

…Husband, huh?

Floyd hasn’t been subtle about his feelings, and although Yu keeps waiting cynically for the day when it just ends—when Floyd gets bored and decides he’s tired of pursuing someone who can’t give him an answer—that day still hasn’t come. Even if it seems like Floyd is uninterested, he keeps coming back, undeterred by how long it’s taking Yu to give him a proper response. And if they really do get married in the future… doesn’t that mean he’s—

Yu shakes his head. He can’t be serious. Maybe this is just a really stubborn phase. After all, admitting it would mean he has no reason to not accept Floyd’s constant teasing and affection, or some kind of relationship. As much as he’s starting to enjoy the mer’s company, as much as he wants them to get closer, as much as a part of him has always wanted a romantic partner—isn’t it too cruel to subject Floyd to a relationship where his love is being placed in the wrong person?

Maybe things will change later on, but it’s better to wait things out. Surely, this way, Floyd will have no choice but to let go of his feelings and they can both move on…

(Yu silently takes a photo of Floyd and Allegra as they mess around, father-to-be and daughter. Their grins are pure and infectious.)

…surely, it’ll hurt them less in the long run to never make this real. 

“Dad! Dad!” Allegra’s happy shrieks cut though Yu’s depressing thoughts, her mismatched eyes fixed on him. “Get over here! Papa’s bullying me!”

“And if I am?” Floyd twirls her around in the air for the fun of it. “We all know who li’l Koi’s gonna side with: me! ‘Cuz I’m his favorite eel in the whole of Twisted Wonderland~”

“Noooo! Dad loves me the most!”

Yu can’t help but laugh softly at the ridiculous scene in front of him. “Come on, you two…” It goes against his better judgment, but he steps off the porch and approaches them. 

“Daaaad, help!!!”

“Oh, Allegra.” When Floyd pauses in his unrelenting, lighthearted wrangling, Yu places a hand on her back. “You have to learn how to defend yourself somehow.”

As Allegra’s expression changes from hopeful to hilariously betrayed, Floyd bursts into laughter again. “Knew it! Better show me whatcha got now, little elver!”

There’s a strange tightness in Yu’s chest as he watches Floyd. Floyd, who’s proving himself able to be even more gentle than he already has; Floyd, who’s still as enviably carefree and expressive as ever…

…Yu’s still afraid it all won’t work out in the long run, but cherishing this sight for now is enough.

ermmm consider fic concept

it's pretty trope-y and has been done multiple times in this fandom but

floyu kid (from a parallel universe?) gets transported to the past and dropped at nrc, shenanigans ensue once they start referring to floyd and yu as their dads

[hotdamnhunnam]

Me to the already fragile pieces of my ego after I post a super short sweet little fic and tag a hundred million people in it (supposedly all these peeps wanna be tagged, because they asked, but idk?!) and get 3 likes and 0 reblogs/comments in 30+ minutes (big thanks to you three by the way, I see you and I love you and I value you okay!!! ❤️) —

And this is a ficlet that’s within the AU of my most highly praised fic so now I’m just like okayyy I guess people didn’t even really like it?!? 😭

And of course I don’t mean to pressure/rush any of my readers into reading things, and I’m aware that not all y’all are online all the time lol, but I’m out here seeing other writers getting 19329187388372 notes in 2 minutes without even tagging anyone and I’m just feeling clown feelz is all 🤡

Writing for a smol fandom and/or just being an unpopular writer is HARD lol.

[terrainofheartfelt]

How do you constantly keep coming up with material to write? It's pretty amazing. Also wouldn't say 3x22 ruined Serena-Nate agreed lol. However Serena chasing after Dan in the later season had to have hurt for Nathaniel :(. I wish Nate ended up happy but we'll never know lol. Writers did him pretty dirty imo. Just in a different way from Evil Dan. Chuck looked the absolute best. It's as if he was the main character. Why did girls care about his stupid company anyways? Never made sense to me

Aw thank you! For the compliment and the vindication. <3333

First, I have to say, the 4a love triangle makes me Tired. What should have happened was either a) she date both of them and they form a glorious ot3 or b) serena date no one and focus on herself and dan and nate date each other.

Nate is a very dear character to me, and you’re right, he was done dirty as well - and I think in a way more similar to Blair & Serena rather than Dan. Like, he stated flat out in the pilot that he didn’t want to become like his parents, and then...he did. And Blair & Serena did, too. Blair, stuck at the helm of a company she flat out said she didn’t want in s4. Serena, pigeon-holed into the box of what people expected her to be: golden girl, untouchable, infallible, not-human, a muse not a person.

As for the chip whiskers of it all...it really all comes back to the Constance Grady article. They made him the main character. And every other narrative suffered for it.

I saved your writing question for the end because I have the feeling I’m about to go on for a while. I mean, I’m kinda a constant daydreamer? I’ve always been that way, with any form of fiction I absorb, but with GG a few things came together with that daydreaming for me to actually start writing honest to god fic. I’d say it was the spite at how the story ended, and thinking that I could do better, meeting having an abundance of time on my hands by living alone midpandemic, meeting community. And community I think is the real answer, because in this corner of the gg fandom sandbox, I have had the privilege of getting to share ideas and creativity with some fabulous people. My long-ass post s5 fixit was born out of all the s5 fixits I had read and wanting to come at it from my own angle. The Little Women au was born out of meta Ivy wrote about Dan & Vanessa being better off as a platonic pairing rather than a romantic one (Jo/Laurie anybody?). Speaking of my dear friend Ivy, Sunday in the Park with Nate came from a conversation in his dms about zookeeper!Nate, and it spiralled from there. Sena’s screencapping project has fueled a lot of writing, especially about Milo, and my Dan/Nate s4 au. The orchestra au literally happened bc an anon submitted a question like: what kinds of musicians would the gg mains be? And the idea popped into my brain and wouldn’t let go. My current Milofic (posting in progress) actually started as like, the inverse of what it is now: established relationship married Dair get Life-as-we-know-it-ed guardianship of Milo after a car accident, when it’s revealed that Georgina named Dan Milo’s guardian bc even in death she loves fucking with people (now that I’m laying it out again this is actually intriguing...fuck.) Then I read a ficlet by Nads and thought “that’s a fun premise! I wonder if I might come at it a different way” and here we are, 20k-ish words later. And of course, S bullied me into writing a Pride & Prejudice AU and I love her for it. (also about 20k into that one…)

This is all just to say: creativity, even with a supposedly solitary activity like writing, is dependent on collaboration and community, yk?

[isidar-mithrim]

Tag game

Thank you for the tag @fightfortherightsofhouseelves and @clarensjoy!! 

Also, I’ll take this opportunity to apologize for all the tag-chain/game I ignored lately! I’m quite busy this period and while I do still check tumblr almost daily – especially now that I can’t wait for new @giblimort‘s amazing portraits *_* – it’s more like a few-minute scroll in the homepage and maybe read the occasional ficlet so I might miss the tags or more probably I might be lazy about answering them ^^’ But it always makes me smile that someone thought of me, so be aware that it’s appreciated and it makes my day lighter <3 @narukoibito @sybill-the-seer @ballerinaroy and I’m surely forgetting someone ^^’

Fandoms: Harry Potter, the one and only ;)

Where you post: Tumblr and Ao3, but I also have an account on the italian fan fiction page EFP (but my last stories are missing and most of the old ones that I’ve translated needs to be changed/edited, so I would kinda beg any passing italians to read them in English or ask me what version I would suggest XD). And one on Wattpad that I haven’t updated in a long while...

Most popular one-shot: Well I’m not sure what defines “popular” here, so I’ll kinda cheat and check the Ao3 stats I think for the first time ever and give you:

one for “most hits”: Fantasies [NSFW and basically Hinny PWP, so maybe I shouldn’t be surprised it’s the one with most hits XD]

one for “most kudos”: Standing on tiptoe [whoa, hadn’t seen it coming!]

one for “most bookmarks”: Letters for beyond (featuring the Potters)

one for “most comment threads”: so there are 4 with the same number, two of them are the two above, and between the remaining two I’ll pick A new beginning, a post-war chat between Harry and Neville ^^

Most popular multi-chapter: among my only two proper multi chapters, of which one is incomplete so far and with just 2 chapter and the other is complete with just 3 short chapter (what an achievement XD), Better than fireworks  is the one among all of my stories, including one shots, with “most bookmark”, “most subscriptions” (by far) and also “most comments threads”: [all this support is absolutely amazing, but I admit also kinda make me feel guilty because it’s almost been a year since I posted it and promised to finish it, ups ^^’ And the ironic thing is that I still plan too. One day. Maybe XD]

But I’ll also cheat a little bit again, naming a4 one-shots series, “Have a biscuit”. If you like Neville and McGonagall, I’ll be honored if you’d give it a try ^^

Favourite story written so far: Ahhh that’s a tough one, I tend to be quite fond of my stories (yay for the modesty, lol – I swear that when I’m not that thrilled I always admit it, though XD)... Let’s say “As though by a mother” but I might give a different answer in a week XD

Fic you were nervous to post: I’m not sure I’m never actually “nervous” before posting (more like, afraid that the story won’t appreciated as a I hope/that it won’t interest people), but I guess I must have been a bit nervous before posting my first ever pic translated in English, which also happens to have a not-so-usual writing style: And yet it tastes good

How you choose your titles: Ahhhh, good question. I guess it depends. Tbh I’m not that good at titles, or sometime I have a (supposedly) great one in Italian that doesn’t really translate (or isn’t that good) in English or viceversa. [Example: the “Have a biscuit” serie has English titles that I like way better than the italians, but a story like “Souls of Ink”, while having a good ring in English, to me it’s way more powerful and poetic in Italian, “Anime d’inchiostro”].

Sometimes I don’t have a title until the end and I kinda throw something there, sometimes I have the title from the very beginning and it could be a big part in inspiring the story. I tend to use title that are neither too short nor too long, and I don’t usually use songs quotes or the like. Plus, I’m very happy if the words/phrasing of the title recur literally or metaphorically in the story! I also try to match the “feeling” of the title (and the summary) with the “feeling” of the story. Like, I’d go for a more poetic/dramatic one for an angst story, and for a more comedic-like one for something more fluffy or silly.

Complete: Well, that’s easy, since I mostly stay away from multi-chapters XD (and for good reasons – see above XD) All my one shots, and most of my “closed” series, as in, series that I imagined with a beginning and an end or something like that (so, series like “Next Generation” don’t really have a complete/incomplete status) 

In progress: Again “Better than Fireworks”, and I’ve also just realised that I’ve yet to finish translating (despite being at a decent point) the second and last chapter of “Of Matilda, war and Peace” [speaking about being bad a title, lol XD] Ups ^^’

Coming soon/Not yet started: ahhh coming soon probably nothing, ehm, but I’ve at least 4 one shots in the making and that I want to finish one day (most of them started months if not a years ago... I’ll list them below), plus the draft for the rest of Better than Fireworks, plus several random missing-moments or AUs ideas and a long Hinny post-war story started few years ago in Italian (roughly 100.000 written) that needs to be heavily rewritten, translated and possibly finished ^^ Same for a shorter bit of a Jily seventh-year story, if we have to say it all...

“Ghost of the past”, a Hinny one shot from Ginny’s pov with a difficult conversation – I’m very fond of this one, but I have to work on the second part/end. The first/main part is finished and even betaed by the amazing @narukoibito! <3

“Of those who stayed”, a silver trio one shot – again from Ginny’s pov – during DH, when they try to steal the sword. I’ve the first (long) chapter done and again, even betaed by the wonderful @floreatcastellumposts but knowing myself I want to finish it first. I might decide that it’s okay like this (in Italian I’ve already posted it a one shot), but since I had a sort of sequel in mind for now it’ll stay in my drafts ;)

“The man who lived” – This one is all in just Italian so far (I’m rewriting an old piece – I’d probably restart it directly in English now); again Ginny’s pov (wow, hadn’t realised it!), again DH, this time since she (in my head canon) realise Harry might have gone to Voldemort during the battle, until the end of the battle

A one shot that’s it’s a series of Hinny snippets about James Sirius Potter coming to life (from the very start). Old one written in Italian and never posted, that a again needs to be finished. Same for a collection of snippets around Hinny’s wedding (but this is “draftier”)

A one shot of Harry and the Potters waling Teddy at King Cross; I’ve just a very little bit of it written + most of the draft, and it would be the sequel of the one shot “What parents would want”

The random Missing Moments that I’ve have in mind are: a conversation between Bill and Ginny in the hospital wing in HBP, plus maybe a bit more from Ginny’s pov in that period (like going back home from Hogwarts); a conversation between Bill and Ron in DH, not sure if during Ron’s first or second stay and Shell Cottage; Hermione finding out about Arthur’s attack; Dumbledore taking Slughorn’s memory (when it happened, how he found out... I’ve several head canon about it!)

The random AUs moments (and I say moments just because I wouldn’t really be interested in writing a whole story, I only imagine few moments of it): Hermione brining Harry at the Burrow at Christmas after Godric’s Hollow, with is locket attached to his chest (I think I stole the idea from Flo’s!); the trio finding Ginny in the cell in Malfoy Manor as well; and some dumb “Lily and James are resurrected post DH” trash XD Oh, also a real muggle AU with Harry as a self-defence coach and Ginny as trainee!

Do you accept prompts? As you can imagine especially in this period I’m not very good at commitment ^^’, but if you have a specific idea and want to give it a try (maybe during the winter holidays?) I’d be honored, if not able to make any promises!

Upcoming works you’re most excited about: definitely “Ghost of the past”!

I’m tagging @ballerinaroy again, @remedial-potions, @thedistantdusk, @thebiwholived and whoever wants to join ^^

EDIT: Ehm I got caught up with the stats when I wrote this and without realizing it I put a multi chapter in the “Most popular one shot” section, lol XD Problem fixed ;)

[fandomn00blr]

6, 13 and 18 from OTP ask! For stroughain(off?) merribela and fenhanders

Ok, phew! Thank you for indulging me...I cherish these three ships so much!!!

I'll start with fenhanders (my most established OT3 🥰)

6. What things have tested their relationship over the years?

The biggest test for these three was that Anders died...and then he didn't...

Let me explain! This is an AU where Anders supposedly dies in the Chantry explosion and Hawke and Fenris get together afterwards in their shared grief over him, but then Anders comes back (it's magic!) and...that's really hard for Hawke to deal with (Fenris is surprisingly cool with it). Then there's also the fact that Anders comes back to find his love married to someone he thought hated him, raising twins that may or may not be his. And the world is like, completely different from how he remembers it (he comes back during Inquisition, in a very Mage Rights! world state). They figure it out...eventually.

13. How do they deal with a long stretch of time apart?

There's three of them, so two of them are usually still together, which makes the third especially resentful if they've gotta be somewhere alone. Unless it's Hawke. She values her alone time. Fenris does alright, though he worries. And Anders is a complete mess when left to his own devices. If they have the kids or the dog or cat with them, that helps. And Merrill and Isabela pop in from time to time, too. Hawke will mostly just lay around and do nothing and bask in the glory of a quiet house and a bed to herself. Anders will hoard elfroot or go through everyone's things and IDK smell them or lay in them or something and Fenris builds things/starts new projects around the house/farm.

18. What are the little things they do each day to show the other they care? – either consciously or subconsciously

Acts of service!!! Fenris cooks for his family (they're supposed to take turns, but he ends up having to rescue both Hawke and Anders more often than not in the kitchen), Anders often ends up entertaining the children when the other two need a break, and Hawke cleans up...begrudgingly. They are also very affectionate. Hawke and Anders have always been very touchy and grabby, and it takes Fenris some time to get used to this, of course, but he is very good at sneaking in hand-squeezes and cheek-kisses to show his appreciation of his partners.

And merribela *happy sigh*...

6. What things have tested their relationship over the years?

Really just boring things. Isabela being a pirate, Merrill getting seasick. Isabela being worried that if she said “I love you” out loud, Merrill would suddenly and for absolutely no reason, just decide she’s boring and no longer have any interest in her. Merrill worrying she could never be enough for someone as generous and beautiful and lively as Isabela. Y’know...just the normal things.

13. How do they deal with a long stretch of time apart?

Because of Merrill’s sea-sickness, she does not go with Isabela on most of her pirate adventures, but she keeps busy serving as the unofficial Keeper of the Kirkwall Alienage (people just started calling her Keeper and she gave up on correcting them). Isabela misses her dearly every time and can’t wait to get back to their little apartment and kick her boots off and nest with her.

18. What are the little things they do each day to show the other they care? – either consciously or subconsciously

Merrill leaves Isabela little gifts, almost subconsciously, all over the place (because she often forgets where she puts them before formally giving them to her). Little notes in the morning with snippets of poetry (Merrill just calls them ‘heart words’), snacks, flowers, things she sees that remind her of something significant (in a very Merrill way...like a rock with shiny flecks in it that she says remind her of Isabela’s freckles or something).

Isabela tries to spend as much time as she can with Merrill whenever she is in port. If she had her way, they’d just spend the entire time at home, snuggled up together, but alas, Merrill often has a long list of things she’s been meaning to get to, and Isabela is delighted to tag along and watch her busy little girlfriend in her element.

And lastly, stroghainoff...

(yes, it's a silly play on stroganoff...cuz there's a thing with deep mushrooms and bronto “beef” with these two...it's a long story...well, actually, it’s only five chapters and a couple of spin-off ficlets at this poiint, but...)

I answered 6 for these two here...

13. How do they deal with a long stretch of time apart?

It is very rare that they have to. Stroud ‘drags’ Loghain along on most of his Warden business (Loghain pretends he doesn’t want to go, but he would be sad if Stroud didn’t take him along on every mission), because he ‘values his opinion’ (he really does! Loghain was the friggin’ Commander of the Fereldan Army, after all) as his ‘Warden-Surveyor’ which is a title he made up after they first had sex during a cave-in and Loghain thought they were gonna die. So...to answer that question...ummmm...they don’t. And if they had to, I imagine they’d both be insufferable in their own ways. Loghain would be even grumpier and annoying, and Stroud would probably just worry incessantly that Loghain was cold or sad or something.

18. What are the little things they do each day to show the other they care? – either consciously or subconsciously

Loghain packs them both lunch and brings it to him in his office, or, if he can step away, somewhere nice and quiet outside of the Keep. Stroud is very affectionate, and gives lots of back rubs and shoulder squeezes and stuff. He also lets Loghain bitch to him about...well, everything, during their “quiet evening time”...lol.

[thedeevirus]

Sugar daddy AU, except the opposite of what people normally do. Edward is the rich, older man and Oswald is the young boyfriend.

Professor Ed Nygma is set up with a ‘sugar baby’ by his Gotham U colleague Professor Kristen Kringle but things don’t go according to plan…

Added to Nygmobblepot Ficlets on AO3

Hope you enjoy! But no prizes for knowing which song they’re playing on the piano LOL

***

‘Eddie?’

‘Huh?’

Ed flicked the whistling kettle off and Kristen obligingly repeated what he had missed.

‘I said, “I’m really sorry the date with Isabella didn’t work out”’.

Ed shrugged offhandedly as he sat beside Kristen on his couch. The weekly ritual of ‘Tuesday Tea Time’ after work at his apartment was somehow cleansing after the uncomfortable atmosphere of the previous evening. It had been the latest in a long line of blind dates Kristen had arranged for him. One of the only aspects of cold comfort was that it had been far from the worst one. Another was that his attempts at romance had, so far, stayed out of the vortex of campus gossip.

‘Me too’, Ed said, offering her a cookie, ‘It was just too weird’.

Kristen dunked the cookie in her tea, shaking her head.

‘Yeah, maybe not the best week for my darling sister to experiment with red hair dye or forget her contact lenses’. She held up the gingerbread man,nodded in approval at the creamy afro she had given it and bit its head off. ‘Unless she did it on purpose to mess with you. Wouldn’t be the first time come to think of it’.

‘Funny, she never mentioned that’.

‘Does she really wear it better? Be honest’.

‘Wait, you’re not a natural redhead?’ Ed said, hand held to his chest, aghast, ‘What other dark secrets are you hiding from me Professor Kringle?’

‘Very funny Professor Nygma’, Kristen said, chomping down hard on the cookie’s disembodied legs.

‘Anyway’, Ed said, ‘How are you doing on the romance front?’

‘Um, good’, Kristen smiled conspiratorially.

Ed raised an eyebrow and Kristen flashed an ‘ok’ sign with her fingers.

‘Very good actually’, she said with a cheeky wink.

‘Intriguing’, Ed smirked, ‘Anyone I know?’

‘Nope but he did have a friend I thought would be perfect for you’.

‘Really? Right now I’d settle for someone to take an extra concert ticket off my hands’.

‘I’m really sure this time! Can feel it in my gut!’

Ed laughed at Kristen’s sudden fervour.

‘Okay, okay!’ he said, resigning himself to yet another of Kristen’s attempts at matchmaking, ‘What are they like?’

‘You’ll see’.

‘Wait what’s that supposed to m-?’

The sound of the doorbell interrupted his sentence.

‘Oh jeepers look at the time!’ Kristen suddenly cried.

‘Kristen?’ Ed asked, instantly realising the doorbell and Kristen hastily grabbing her bag were connected, ‘What’s going on?’

‘Nothing Eddie! I’m just dandy! Just need to head home and,uh…’

‘Think of an excuse for why you’re suddenly rushing out of my apartment?’ Ed deadpanned.

‘Exactly!’ she said brightly, pulling on her coat, ‘I’ll see you in the cafeteria tomorrow as usual breakfast buddy! Bye!’

She opened the front door and swept into the hallway like a tornado. Ed went to the door and was able to overhear a few seconds of barely audible conversation on the other side before he opened it. A young man dressed in a smart black suit was waiting outside, hand raised as if prepared to knock. To his credit, he recovered well.

‘Hello Mr Nygma’, the young man said, ‘My name is Oswald. I believe you’re expecting me?’

Ed, suddenly confronted with Kristen’s latest machination straight out of the 50’s sitcoms she enjoyed, decided he would also attempt a good recovery.

‘I suppose so’, he smiled and opened the door wide, ‘Please, come in’.

Oswald entered the apartment and Ed closed the door behind him.

‘Can I get you something to drink or…?’ Ed began but trailed off when he turned around.

Oswald was undoing his bow tie and licking his lips.

‘No thank you’, he said breathlessly, ‘B-but I would love something to…eat’.

As Oswald approached, hips swaying suggestively, Ed backed up against the door. Not out of fear but utter disbelief. When his supposedly massive intellect failed to provide him with a counter strategy to Oswald advancing on his position, he simply went to the source.

‘What are you doing?’ he asked.

Oswald halted, brow furrowed. Ed relaxed, about to proceed with followup enquiries but Oswald’s confusion did not last long.

‘Oh?’ Oswald said, lustful expression slipping effortlessly back onto his face, ‘Would you prefer things this way?’

He took hold of Ed’s limp hands and fixed them to his shirt. He abruptly pulled his arms apart, causing the shirt to tear open. Ed was begrudgingly impressed that not a single button popped off.

‘Heck yes I would’, Ed bluffed, moving his hands to Oswald’s shoulders.

Oswald’s eyes darted to Ed’s hands and now Ed was sure. Oswald’s demeanour was a front. He didn’t want to be here any more than Ed had been expecting him. But then why was he here by Kristen’s invitation?

‘Then…give it to me. R-right now!’

Ed bit back a laugh. What Oswald had intended as an order had come out sounding more like a child throwing a tantrum. It was oddly endearing how hard he was trying to be someone he wasn’t. Ed could sympathise with the smokescreen.

‘Give it to you?’ Ed asked, ‘Is that what you want? Really?’

‘It’s all I want’, Oswald begged, half-hooded eyelids fluttering, ‘Please, please, give it to me. Please. Please’.

Ed held up a hand to silence the increasingly frantic litany of ‘pleases’. It was time to put them both out of their collective misery.

‘You’re not gonna blink are you?’ Ed sighed.

‘Y-you mean close my eyes?’

‘No. Come on, let’s have some tea. And button your shirt’.

‘I am so embarrassed right now’.

Oswald’s head rose from where it had been resting in his hands to nod gratefully for the mug of tea Ed was offering.

‘Nothing to be embarrassed about’, Ed said reassuringly, pouring milk into his own cup, ‘I really was tempted for a minute. It’s, uh, been a while. I just didn’t realise Kristen knew that. Humbling’.

He cleared his throat as he sat down at the kitchen table, across from Oswald.

‘So what stopped you?’ Oswald asked.

‘How uncomfortable you were’.

Oswald rubbed the back of his head, discomfited. Ed offered him one of the gingerbread cookies as consolation. Oswald took it and dunked it head first. Ed wondered if Kirsten chose all of his prospective romantic partners by comparing how they dunked their cookies compared to her.

‘I’m really sorry for wasting your time’, Oswald sighed.

‘Don’t worry, you’re not. We may as well use the time Kristen paid you for. She saw your ad in the library?’

‘The agency’s got them up all over Gotham U’s campus. Prime recruitment ground’.

‘I never noticed’.

‘Think we’ve established you weren’t looking’.

‘Do you always come on that strong to clients?’

‘Actually, it’s, uh, my first day. I work as a waiter and a friend told me being a sugar baby was a good way to make extra cash’.

‘A what?’

‘You heard the first time’, Oswald sighed, eyes closing resignedly.

‘Like a-’ Ed halted for a second until he found an appropriately polite turn of phrase. ’-‘companion’ for hire?’

‘People hire them…us for all kinds of things’, Oswald shrugged, ‘Your friend Ms Kringle called and said to make you ‘feel special’ so I tried my best’.

‘Not into men?’

Oswald’s fingers drummed on the sides of his cup.

‘Not into anything actually. I thought it would be an advantage. That it would make the ‘hard core’ stuff easier but it didn’t. Not that you’re not aesthetically pleasing!’

‘Thanks’, Ed chuckled, waving a hand to show he was not offended.

‘No, thank you’, Oswald said sincerely, ‘I’ll refund this session when I get home. I don’t think I’m cut out for this line of work’.

‘Why?’ Ed said gently, ‘I’m getting exactly what I needed’.

‘But…we’re just talking’.

‘Kirsten’s an excellent lecturer in Library Sciences, an even better friend (albeit an overconfident matchmaker) but she’s always so busy and we don’t have the same hobbies. That’s great, don’t get me wrong, it’s good that people are different but sometimes I would just like to share my more intimate interests with someone’.

‘I thought this was going too well’, Oswald said with mock apprehension, ‘This is when you show me your sex dungeon, isn’t it?’

Ed burst out laughing. Oswald was proving to be full of surprises.

‘Much more mundane than that’, Ed said, ‘Not that you’ll be disappointed at the lack of one. Do you play video games?’

‘Not many’, Oswald admitted, ‘They’re an expensive habit’.

Ed indicated the piano against the far wall and asked, ‘What about music?’

Oswald sat down and pressed a key with one long finger.

‘My mother taught me but I’m a bit out of practice’.

Ed sat beside him, positioned both hands over the keys and began to play one of the tunes scheduled for the concert that weekend. After only a few notes, Oswald nodded in recognition.

‘I actually know this one’.

‘Jump in whenever you like’, Ed invited.

Oswald obliged immediately and Ed’s jaw dropped at the nimble harmony joining his own. He had never played with anyone before and as Oswald began to softly sing along, he thought he could get used to doing it more often.

‘It’s hard to let it go…’

Oswald trailed off as their fingers brushed against each other. Ed swallowed at the way Oswald’s pale cheeks coloured beneath his glass green eyes. Ed slowly stopped playing, letting the song come to an organic end as Oswald clasped both hands in his lap thoughtfully. It was strange. Oswald was a little older than his university students but sometimes he could seem so vulnerable.

‘You’re not that much out of practice’, Ed said.

‘You teach music?’ Oswald asked.

‘Forensic science. Very different ivories’.

He swelled with pride when the joke got a genuine laugh from Oswald. All it usually got was bemused confusion or ‘dadjoke’ groans from his students. It was so nice to see him relaxed. Ed’s eyes drifted to the tickets resting on top of the piano and, emboldened by how well things were going on this ‘not date’, he made the offer.

‘Do you feel like taking in a concert this weekend?’ Ed asked, ‘It’s the Gotham Symphony. On the clock of course’.

‘You mean it?’

‘I insist on it. Meet me here at six and I’ll include dinner before we head out, sound good?’

Oswald sniffed hard.

‘Dinner and a show sounds great Mr Nygma’, he replied.

‘Please, call me Ed’.

‘The customer’s always right, Ed’.

[damijon-supersons]

Master list for all my Super Sons fic prompts

Hi! This is the master list for all the fics i’ve done so far in response to the story prompts you guys sent me before and short ficlets that i’ve done. All of them are tagged #fic and #prompt. Thanks so much for the support you’ve given me all the while and I hope you keep enjoying my work :) I know I still got a ton of prompts in my inbox, and I hope I’ll get the free time I need to keep doing them. (Updated as of 5/20/18)

For the Master list of my non-prompt original longer Damijon fics, click here: Original fics

Love Letters - a damijon fic - A short but really sweet fic prompt I did for my damijon discord friends. Jon keeps getting love letters in his school locker, but he can’t tell who they’re from, and there are a lot of them. Updated to include art from my good friend @jaidenstar !!

How does the sunshine die? - an incredibly angsty damijon fic -  The third of some angsty fics that I’ve done recently. This was born from a time when I was really inspired to write but the worst prompt i could possibly get in my inbox showed up by way of an anon ask lol. One of the heaviest fics I’ve written, but one that I’m really proud of too. I was just coming off of reading Stephen King’s It, and I still had some inspiration from that wonderful book. Basically...Jon figures out how the sunshine dies.

“We’re friends, aren’t we?” - a Damijon fic - The second of some angsty fics that I’ve done recently. Jon always asks Damian one particular qustion that Damian could never bring himself to answer directly. This is my response (in the form of a fic) to the rumors that Brian Michael Bendis taking over the Superman comics might result in Jon getting scrapped as a character.

Superman’s Sword - an angsty damijon fic (sort of) - The first of some angsty fics that I’ve done recently. This was written before Super Sons 14 and Action Comics 1000. A mother tells her child about the story of Superman and why the Superman of their time carries a sword.

Damijon Week Prompt Day 4 (losing control) “Mid-air hugs are pretty cool”- My Day 4 Submission for DamiJon week. After getting kissed by  Damian, Jon takes Damian with him back to their farm in Hamilton so that they could have the privacy they need to sort through their feelings for each other. WARNING: Heavily Implied NSFW

Damijon Week Prompt Day 3 (first kiss) “We’re in the closet. Literally.”- My Day 3 Submission for DamiJon week. This was based on the incredible picture that flipityflip made for Day 1 of the week. With her permission, I based my fic on it. Here, Damian and Jon run away from detention and get stuck in a locker together. A really tight one. 

Damijon Week Prompt Day 2 (coming out) “I’m Damian and I do not pine! And yes, I’m just fine!” - My Day 2 Submission for DamiJon week. Here, Jon has been away from school for a mission leaving Damian alone. Damian bumps into Maya, and the two have a heart to heart talk about Damian’s not-so-secret secret.

Damijon Week Prompt Day 1 (middleschool AU) “Slice of life? Very poor choice of words…” - My Day 1 Submission for DamiJon week. Here, Jon and Damian are classmates in middleschool and Damian is having a lot of trouble adjusting. Jon tries to comfort him the only way he knows.

Picture Prompt: Hunted by the Son of Night - This short fic is a Jon Vampire Hunter/ Damian Vampire AU that was inspired by artwork from dsasworld. My friend and I on our discord group loved the pic and I was so inspired to write a fic for it, with the artist’s permission. Here, Vampire Hunter Jon is meeting Vampire Damian for a very clandestine and fateful reason.

Picture Prompt: You’re safe in my arms - This is the ficlet I made to accompany my pic commission from laizy-boy. This is based on the Super Sons of Tomorrow crossover arc (Teen Titans #15), where Damian rescues Jon after the latter exploded and fell into San Fran bay.

Prompt: Dark Future’s End - I wrote this before the Super sons of tomorrow arc, but inspired by the idea of it.  So an anon asked me if Damian would take the initiative and kiss Jon first. My answer to that is…yea, basically. He totally would. I was motivated to turn that into a cute little story but things got crazy and I somehow ended up with an overly dramatic end-of-the-world scenario. 

Prompt: Will I grow up a villain? - An anon asked me to make a story about Damian and Jon playing a game. I chose Injustice 2. At the time, discourse was flaring up about DC giving Damian really bleak futures as an adult. This is my response to that since, in Injustice, Damian turned evil.

Prompt: Baking with the Super Sons -  So a friend of mine gave me a quick story prompt about Damian and Jon just cooking together like in a romcom.

Prompt: Who has the best Superboy? - Damian and Tim argue over who has the better super BFF.

Prompt: What if Injustice Damian attacked the main timeline Damian and Bat Family? - I was asked what would happen if Injustice Damian, the grown up one who utterly betrayed Batman, came into the main DC universe and saw that his younger self was loved and adored by his family, and had a best friend in Jon. Long story short, Injustice Damian doesn’t take it very well.

Not exactly a prompt: What if Jon was in injustice? - This isn’t really a story, but an anon asked me what if Jon was in Injustice, and this was my long reply to that. I also couldn’t help but write a tiny little ficlet at the end. This ask informs the injustice prompt i got above.

Prompt: You don’t own this secret spot! - A prompt where Tim and Kon are flying to their secret date spot, except they find that Damian and Jon had beaten them there.

Prompt: Babysitting the Super Brats - Tim and Kon just wanted some alone time, but they get saddled with the responsibility of looking after their youngest siblings.

Prompt: I can’t protect you! - Originally a prompt where Jon doesn't want Damian to go on a dangerous mission because he’s at risk of getting killed. I turned it into an end of the world scenario, because of course I did :p Written in Jon’s POV.

Prompt: Dick’s Robin outfit does not fit Jon - Because Jon lost a dare with Damian, he now has to wear Dick Grayson’s original Robin gear. Yep, underwear and all.

Prompt: Maya’s Surprise - Supposedly part of a 5+1 thingie where people walk in on Damian and Jon kissing. It’s Maya’s turn, and well, she gets way more than she bargained for. This actually a censored version lol. The slightly more graphic version is on my ao3.

Prompt: Damian’s death anniversary - Jon accompanies Damian as the latter remembers the day he died. This prompt was really hard to write, because of all the emotion that Damian would have had to deal with.

Prompt: A TimKon Damijon double date - Damian and Jon are forced to go on a double date with Tim and Kon. They go eat dinner and then play laser tag, with a bet that the loser has to do what the winner wants.

Prompt: Super Puppy Love Epilogue: Why there’s a naked Damian in Jon’s bed - this was originally a story prompt but in the end I turned it into the epilogue of one of my better fics, which you can find over here:   (Super Puppy Love:   Damian finds out Jon has a crush on him and decides to have fun with it.)

Prompt: Board games with the Super Sons and the Bat Bros - Damian and Jon join the older Wayne boys for some games. What they don’t know is that the Bat Boys have already guessed just how much the two of them feel for each other.

Prompt: Everybody walks in on Damian and Jon making out - My first-ever prompt! Apparently, a 5+1 thingie where various people walk in on Damian and Jon snogging each other in some way :p

[littlesparklight]

I got tagged by @threadsketchier for this fic meme! :D thanks this was... surprisingly enlightening and fun.

List the first lines of your last 10 published stories (or whatever number you like). Look to see if there are any patterns that you notice yourself, and see if anyone else notices any!

1. He didn't know what he'd expected. (Getting What You Need) 2. It was a familiar path from the little town to the mansion nested against the foothills a short distance away, and a familiar creak as the door that ought to be locked closed behind him. (From the first chapter of the Clackweek 2018 ficlets.) 3. "But... I'm not..." Luke took a step back, not at all liking what he was hearing - not that being threatened with death if he failed to do something he didn't know how to do was much better, but this was undisputably worse. (First chapter of Where Our Intrepid Hero Doesn’t Get Away, which I could of course use alone for this meme lol.) 4. A thousand years after Yavin, Alderaan is once again a sparkling jewel in the depths of space. (Spirits of Alderaan) 5. "Ready to go, Co-pilot?" The teasing, self-assured grin was bright, the blue eyes just as sharp, and Luke laughed as he threw himself into the co-pilot's chair. (In Which the Force Finally Becomes Proactive - technically one of the Intrepid Hero fics but you know, it was still posted alone.) 6. Focusing on the simple facts got Vader through the corridors and two more turbolifts to his quarters without any more... slips, happening. (Imperial Internship) 7. The scope of this treatment will be brief, owing in particular to the scarcity of sources, but it deserves some attention nonetheless. (Language and Resistance - does this count, since it’s not exactly a fic, but also not not a fic??) 8. His granddaughter has been screaming intermittently for six hours before her hoarse wheezing is joined by a new protest. (Keeping Time) 9. Watching the swirling, mottled blue of hyperspace, Darth Vader was regretting the datapad he'd given to Luke. (The Unconquered Sun) 10. She can't sleep. (Blue)

Patterns... uhm. It looks like to me there’s a mix of real short,(hopefully) punchy lines and longer exposition-type descriptions? With a few dialog starters, but I really don’t use many of those, and for the first one it was a deliberate choice since that’s an AU of a comics’ issue and where it veers off in relation to that issue. I mean, some of these sentences look maybe a little weird without the immediate ones after them, but... mostly they seem to work even on their own.

And I’m kind of surprised at how... well, punchy they actually come across, most of them. I think I’m surprised (and surprisingly pleased) by myself haha.

tagging @reyairia @radioactivepeasant and @scribeprotra

And, as a bonus because I think it might be fun, under the cut the first lines from the next nine chapters of the Intrepid Hero chapters:

1. The cell and the guard now in it was two corridors behind Luke when a chill ran through him and he glanced up at the ceiling, swallowing. 2. The lightsaber went flying, and he wasn't really listening to the childish outburst from the boy as he yanked it away. 3. "Such feeble senses... so easily disabled," Plank said, static crackling along the words out of the vocoder. 4. Trying to clean up with one hand being partly out of commission from being broken but now healing wasn't the easiest thing, especially when he was feeling shaky and slightly dizzy. 5. Tatooine's night air was, supposedly, still as chilly as ever, but he could of course not feel it. 6. He'd never put a foot in Jabba's palace before, but it, like Tatooine, was familiar in the same way; dry and dusty, sharp with fear and the need for survival. 7. "I see them, I see them!" Luke cried and swung his X-wing in a sharp turn, following the curve of Hoth away from the giant shadow of the Executor and the swarm of TIEs heading for him. 8. The Falcon shuddered, engines screaming, and it was all too familiar. 9. The Princess, the Wookiee, and Calrissian were hustled out of the hangar, still stunned, but Darth Vader wasn't paying attention to them, nor the droids, shut down, that he'd ordered put in his quarters. 

The obvious pattern here is some of the starting lines for these chapters are necessarily tied to whatever piece of media/moment in the media I’m doing an AU for, but for some of the original scenarios, we’re back to those short, exposition descriptions, haha.