#actually from time to time I seriously consider going back to ff.net and start posting my w359/tma/alwake fics there

[taniushka12]

you know, something I wanna do someday besides translate my own fics is to translate other fics I like. Did you know there currently zero fics in spanish in the alwake tag? That's So sad. Like I know if I post them they'll get five kudos, Max, but you gotta start somewhere..... and if someone who doesn't know english drops, well, I just want them to have Something!

[generalluxun]

Fanfic Author 20 Questions

Thanks to @erisluna35 for sending this along! 1. How many works do you have on AO3?

On AO3? Right now 63, soon to be 64(tomorrow probably) and a couple on FF.net

2. What's your total AO3 word count?

1,020,860 on AO3 plus another ~86K fic I never ported over to AO3, as my 'recent' stuff, starting back in 2021

3. What fandoms do you write for?

Mostly Miraculous Ladybug, I did others a long time ago before joining AO3, but that was a long time ago. I've considered a couple others recently too, but nothing yet.

4. What are your top 5 fics by kudos?

At The Gala- A Chlonette fic inspired by fanart, and actually the sequel to my #2 by Kudos. This is just a cute series of strange interactions with Chloe from Marinette's PoV, culminating in understanding and discovery on a fated evening.

Slippery slope- Little Chlonette ficlet inspired by a fanart. Very short, it's about how a single unexpected moment can change someone's entire world.

Ever After- A long chapter fic set more than a decade post-canon that looks into the idea that 'Ever After' can be a long time, and that expecting life to be solved at 14 is a recipe for eventual disaster. Yet at the same time life continues to offer new experiences, new possibilities, and new ways to grow. Ships include Adrienette, Chloadrien, and Felinette.

Showing Love- An alternate ending to Queen Wasp, where instead of reuniting Chloé with her horrible mother by highlighting everything horrible about her (seriously, what?) Marinette comes face to face with the reality that a mother really *can* not love a child. Being Marinette she can't let such a thing stand, even if it is Chloé. Marinette&Dupain-Cheng family goodness.

What Do you See?- Adrigami fic that kicks off right in the middle of Kuro Neko. While Adrien is struggling with the pain of giving up Cat Noir, one thing crosses his mind. He can finally give one important person the truth she deserves. After all, he *Was* Cat Noir, not *is*. The two both struggle to navigate the ramifications of this revelation, especially when Plagg shows up once more with the ring. (there's a little bit of eventual Lukanette)

5. Do you respond to comments? Why or why not?

I try to respond to most, especially any questions or curiosities. I love engagement.

6. What's the fic you wrote with the angstiest ending?

Oh heck this is so not fair. I am in love with bittersweet ending, and have a couple of doozies.

I can't decide between three.

What Happened- The 'real reason' Chloé Bourgeois's redemption arc failed. What do you di when you do everything right, only to find out your happiness causes the end of the world, in every timeline?

A Modest Proposal- Marinette is happily impatient for Adrien to finally propose to her. Little does she know, a secret long kept is going to come back to haunt her. It's worse than you think.

The Risk Outweighs- A look into someone else's life during the episode 'Risk'. The courage to do anything finally gives Chloé the strength to break from the cycle. But the Ladybugs must set things right, and a few moments of clarity weigh nothing against a lifetime.

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

Again, lots with happy endings, though I prefer 'open' endings, so...hmmm

Cafe Noir- has an unambiguously happy ending, but I specifically set out to write a romcom so that feels like cheating.

Dog Daze- probably has the most comprehensively happy ending, Adrien's dad even managed to try to parent. They do go through a lot on the way to the happy ending though.

In Direct Opposition- My latest work, seems to end on a solidly happy note for all involved.

8. Do you get hate on fics?

Ever After drew some upset people that expected their OTP to be the main ship. I never tried to deceive anyone, but a few people were just really upset.

I also had this weird thing where someone thought I was someone else, and stalked my comments for a while. That's why I use moderation now.

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

I've done M rated fics. I'm not sure 'smut' works for them, even if there's lots of sex narratively, it's usually mentioned rather than being detailed. I did one single 'this will be a smut fic' fic. And even that ended up with like, 5K words mostly plot, and about 2 paragraphs of (I think emotional and important) sex.

10. Do you write crossovers? What's the craziest one you've written?

Nah, I've never had the crossover itch. I generally find each world intriguing enough on their own.

11. Have you ever had a fic stolen?

Not that I know of...

12. Have you ever had a fic translated?

Yep! I had someone ask if they could translate one of my fics to Russian.

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

Nope. Talked about it before, but never went through with it. Not against the idea. I do a lot of rubber ducking for my friends though, so some of my ideas can end up in their finished fics.

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

I'm going ot have to go with adribrina, my goobers. I like exploring all kinds of ships, and these two I threw together on a whim but Oh, they're so comfy! I wrote Puppy Love to see how they would work, and then that evolved into Dog Daze, my Largest work to date. I had *intended* for them to amicably break up and Sabrina to be a wing-woman to Adrien in the canon ship of Adrienette.... but they just did not want to break up. Even if they wouldn't admit they were dating, they were just too *comfy* together. These two make me happy. (Marinette ended up okay though, she's happy!)

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

A third fic in my Senti-Sentai AU. 'Worlds Collide'. It was set in 'vague eastern Europe country in the middle of violent conflict' and then that suddenly got too real, too quickly.

16. What are your writing strengths?

Character voice. I write third person limited, and I've been told many times that I do a very good job of writing characters as their canonical selves, just in different situations that bring about different outcomes or changes in them. I consider that a high compliment, because the characters are what I am here for.

17. What are your writing weaknesses?

Brevity. Even simplistic plots 'enemies to friends road trip' become detailed 'Marinette manipulates Chloé into chasing Adien and Lila across the globe to prevent Lila from wheedling an arranged Marriage out of Gabriel' and then that blossoms into a 98K fic.

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

I feel like my last of understanding grammar and colloquialisms for another language would have me sounding like bad google translate. Singular words used? Viable.

19. First fandom you wrote for?

SWATKats. My first ever fanfic was a 30K fic about that show.

20. Favorite fic you've ever written?

They are all my babies! This is so not fair. I've spoken about some of my favorites earlier though, so I'll use this spot to mention some other ones :)

He's Perfect- Gothic Horror Adrienette! It even has a sequel and an entire AU in my head if I can circle back.

The Orphan and the Marionette- Written to feel like one of Grimm's fairy tales. Chlonette(kind of) with a heavy dose of magic and a surprise appearance from Marianne.

There are so many more but I'll plug Dog Daze again, because I to like how it flows and the alternate S5 we get from it. It also inspired a raft of 'post story' one shots, and I have another chapter fic waiting in the wings to continue the AU. There's plenty of stories to tell here.

@taketwoinink Tag, if you would like to play.

[stuffnonsenseandotherthings]

SHIPPER GAME TAG

It seems like @lurkingshan has tagged me to unveil all the skeletons in my fandom closet so let's go and dig them up! Word of warning, I had very patchy media access up until my 20s (I could watch about 5ish things on TV and one of them was the news) so some of my ships are uh, niche.

1. What ship were you completely obsessed with when you were a teenager, but now you don't care anymore?

Damon and Elena from The Vampire Diaries. I had such a weird relationship with this show given that I couldn't actually watch the actual episodes and instead had to watch the curated shipping clip compilations but yeah, I was very into these two for most of my teen years. Now my tastes have changed drastically and I'm no longer into this couple or the show so.....

2. Which ship do you consider your first one?

I was going to say Percy and Annabeth but then I remembered Luke and Maria from The Sarah Jane Adventures. Admittedly a very niche couple but they're the first time I can remember coming across a pairing on screen and going "They Are More Than Friends I Must Find More". Unfortunately there wasn't much more to find but I still think their relationship was cute.

3. Your first fanfic belonged to which couple?

Another niche couple but Ruth and Jay from Casualty. There wasn't much but I poured over the 10ish fics I could find and frequently checked if there was anything new for them on FF.net or wherever it is I'd managed to find them.

Damn I want to go rewatch their scenes again, I wonder if the compilations are still on Youtube?

4. Do you remember the first couple you saw a fan art over?

I don't remember the first couple I saw Fanart for but I can tell you the first Fanart I remember coming across and that was Percy Jackson. There is a particular style popular among fanartist for the series and I loved it then and I still love it now.

5. Did you ever get into ship discourse?

Only with friends haha. I think the first time I can properly remember having a discussion with people about a ship was the Peeta/Katniss/Gale triangle, I spent a lot of time ranting to my poor friends that of course it was going to end up being Peeta and Katniss because they fit the "Final Couple of a Teen Lit Romance" pattern down to a tee so rooting for Gale was useless (I was very pleased to be proven right, my pattern theory was just starting out back then).

6. Did you have any no-otp or have it currently?

I won't lie, I used to really struggle with ships that broke up canon ships. Like really, really struggle. I knew then and I recognise even more now that this was linked to my own issues with being overly loyal to just about anything but yeah, I couldn't cope with non-canon ships that broke up the canon ships, even if I didn't like the canon ships.

In regards to specific ships? Anything involving Hermione (none of the men were good enough for her in teen me's opinion).

7. Who were the couple in the last fanfic you read?

..... Ummm Erestor/Glorfindel anyone?

8. Currently, do you have any OTPs?

As @lurkingshan said in her own post, OTPs are eternal. My first OTP was probably Percy and Annabeth and I'd still fight monsters for them. More recent additions to the pack are Andrea and Gyeol-Wool from Hospital Playlist and Uea and King from Bed Friends.

9. Is there any couple that, to this day, you are extremely mad about not getting together?

MARIA AND BLOODY LUKE 😤

In all seriousness, none spring to mind but only because I tend to blot these things from my memory.

10. Is there any ship you used to dislike but now you think they are kind of interesting?

I may have the memory of a sieve for couples I dislike but I also hold grudges against storytelling wrongs so probably not, if I didn't like them then it's likely I still don't like them.

11. Do you have any ship that, in the past, was considered normal but now you would be cancelled over.

I'm going to continue the Brian and Justin trend here because I'm sure many people would be uncomfortable with the age gap now but, as Shan puts it best, "women in queer spaces often struggle to account for the totally different culture and power dynamics between m/m pairings".

12. What was your favourite crack ship?

I don't really do crack ships but I often think about the fact that, somewhere out there on the internet, there is a fanfic about Snape and a teletubby. I've never read it, I don't want to, but the thought does make me giggle (perhaps slightly nervously, I'm not sure).

13. Who is the couple you read more fanfics of?

I tend to go in both fads and cycles so it'll be a mix of fanfic linked to what I'm currently watching/reading (if it seems ficable) and pairings whose fics I know I'll enjoy. That being said I did once get so deep into Stucky that I obsessively researched life in inter-war New York so quite possibly them.

14. What do most of your ships have in common?

I wouldn't say I have a specific type of ship that I like but I am a total sucker for ships where it feels like they help each other become better people, both in little things and in the big things.

15. What do you absolutely hate in a ship?

When I don't understand why they're together.

Tagging anyone who wants to join as well as @twig-tea @respectthepetty

[theasterous09]

This takes place post-S2.

________

It's that time of year again, Halloween!

The sky was pitch black and the moon was high in the air, lighting the night skies in a pale blue glow. There were people running around the streets dressed in all sorts of strange costumes, and our favorite duo was no exception!

Randy and Howard were walking around, looking for their friends. The two decided to spend their holiday with the Der Monster Klub (well, it was more Randy than Howard that decided to join them). They’ve been hanging out with them lately, and are now good friends with them. They're even considered “official members��� of the klub now!

During their walk, Howard began talking. "Listen, Cunningham. You're my best friend," he started casually, before blurting out, "But are you seriously doing this shoobtastic thing again!?"

Randy stared at him, puzzled. "Uh, what?"

The other boy sighed in annoyance, then began to point at their costumes. The shorter teen was portraying McFist this year. He had a mustache, (fake) mechanical arm, and everything! And he was even carrying a pumpkin basket that looked more like the head of a robo-ape than an actual pumpkin.

When Randy still did not understand, Howard facepalmed. He said in a hushed tone, "Your costume! I thought we got over this after the whole thing with ScoopsKang?" the boy asked.

The purple-haired boy had finally caught up with what Howard was trying to point out. "Oooh, you mean this?" he asked, looking at his attire. He had the ninja mask on top of his head, inside out again. But unlike his winter outfit, he was wearing a ninja suit, made by his own 14-year-old hands (with his Mom's help in most parts). It was a far cry from the original and more professional-looking suit.

Randy waved Howard's concern off. "Don't sweat it, buddy. The Ninja Nomicon and I talked about this beforehand and it actually allowed me to wear this! It said something about past Ninjas doing something similar and they were never caught." Randy assured the redhead.

Howard's eyebrow raised, "Well, that doesn't seem right. Are you sure that book allowed you to do this or you just wonked up its 'words of wisdom' like you always do?" he said sarcastically, waving his hands at the "words of wisdom" part.

"I- hey! I don't always do that!" Randy countered.

Howard childishly blew a raspberry at the taller teen. "Do too," and before Randy could say anything else, Howard pointed at the group they were looking for. "Oh, and there's the klub."

True to his words, the group of teens were there. A few waved as they noticed the two getting closer.

"Hello, dear friends!" Julian, wearing a vampire costume, greeted them with a giggle. "Oh, how delightful! We can now begin our candy-hunting adventure."

Howard actually beamed at that, "Aw, yeah! It's about time. This pumpkin needs to be filled," he said, waving his robo-ape-pumpkin basket.

"Wait!" Theresa, in a zombie attire, spoke excitedly, "Before we go, I want everyone to meet our newest member," she gestured at a young girl.

Randy gaped, then a long smile stretched his face, "Rachel!?"

The said girl squealed when she realized who he was, "O-M-Squee, Randy! It's been so long, hasn't it?"

The rest of the group eyed them, Juggo (as a mime) spoke up, "Wait, you guys know each other?"

Realizing that he had to explain himself, now, Randy sheepishly coughed. "Uh, yeah. We've met. She actually helped me out when I nearly collapsed from exhaustion," he said, a bit embarrassed. (referencing Wrong Laboratory, Turned Out Right in FF.net)

Rachel shyly scratched the back of her neck, a small blush - not noticeable enough for any of them to see - formed in her cheeks. "Eheh, yeah… I'm super-duper glad you're all better now, though!" she said, before changing the subject.

"Anyway, to anyone else who doesn't know me: Hello! I'm Rachel Cowell. I've met some of you guys before, but it's super amazing to meet you all!" the girl exclaimed.

Rachel was wearing a pink gown with a crown on her head. Her skin was a lot more pink, too. And she was wearing a long, pink wig… wait-

"No honkin' way! You're dressed up as Princess Bubblegum from Adventure Time!?" Randy said excitedly. He was a big fan of Adventure Time. Unfortunately, it wasn't that popular of a cartoon in Norrisville. So, seeing a fellow fan of the show made his heart jump with enthusiasm.

Rachel's eyes shone and she gasped, "You watch the show, too? That is so bruce!"

Before the two could geek out about the show. Howard groaned, "Are you guys done? This ape needs to be filled with candy," he said, gesturing at his basket.

Theresa looked around the place. Norrisville was a big place, that includes the towns. She took a moment to think before coming up with a conclusion.

"Why don't we split up into two groups? We can get more candy like that!"

Dave, in a spider costume, nodded, "I agree. The more houses we can go to, the more candy we'll have," he said.

The group decided on which direction they would go. Julian and Theresa chose to go left with Dave; Randy, Howard, Rachel, and Juggo decided to go right. With that, the two groups said their goodbyes to each other and parted ways.

_______

With Randy's group, they began to converse about their costumes. Rachel complimented everyone's costumes in awe, especially Randy's.

"Wowzies! If I didn't know any better, I would have thought that you're the Ninja! You look exactly like him," Rachel said with glee.

Randy (wearing his inside-out mask on) side-glanced Howard, who was eating McStick-O's (don't sue me Stick-O's) and pretended not to listen to their conversation. He glanced back at Rachel, "Ah, yeah! But… I'm not him, obviously," he said lamely.

Rachel looked a bit confused at the answer she received from him, but she didn't question any further as they reached the second house they'll go trick or treating on. The walking to houses didn't stop for a while until a blood-curdling scream was heard near the 9th house they passed.

Ignoring the first rule of "staying away from danger", the 4 teens ran towards the loud noise. There was a giant spider robot causing massive destruction in the area. Kids and adults were running around in chaos as the spider-bot struck its metallic webs on houses and unfortunate people.

"Oh, that is not cute. Not cute at all!" Rachel said, shaking in fear.

Randy was pulled aside by Howard. The redhead whispered in his ear, "What the juice? Why is McFist attacking, now? He hasn't attacked in 2 weeks!"

The purple-haired teen shook his head, "I don't know either, buddy. But I'll stop him before he hurts anyone els-"

He wasn't able to finish his sentence as he and Howard were pulled by Rachel. Juggo had already ran ahead of them. Despite the situation and the tight grip Rachel had on Randy's hand, it still felt soft and comfortable. Randy's face flushed as he realized that—

He lightly slapped his cheek with his free hand, "Focus, Randy! We're in danger right now and this is no time to realize that a girl is holding your hand!" he thought to himself.

After a few more moments of running, Rachel stopped at an alleyway. She tried to stop her heart from beating too fast, panting for more air to get to her lungs.

She sighed, "I think we're safe here," she said.

Just then, Rachel felt a slight tug on her hand. She turned to see that she was still holding onto Randy's hand. She nervously giggled, "Heh, oops! Sorry 'bout that!" she said, turning around so Randy wouldn't see her burning cheeks.

Randy wanted to tell her that it was fine, but he noticed that someone's missing. He looked around, "Hey, Rachel. Weren't you holding both my and Howard's hands?"

And now that he mentioned it, Rachel looked around the area. Howard was nowhere to be found, him and Juggo specifically.

Then, a loud roar split in the air. The two covered their ears, Rachel screaming in shock. The spider-bot found them. Randy and Rachel tried to run deeper into the alley, but they soon reached a dead end and the robot was not far behind.

"Why the honk is it chasing us!?" Randy cried out. It wasn't like McFist to send out robots and target random students! Unless…

Oh cheese, did McFist know that he was the Ninja? Had he figured it out? Randy did not know, but now wasn't the time. Rachel was quivering in fear beside him and the spider robot was getting closer, ready to attack them.

Randy knew that he was going to be in deep trouble with Nomicon, but it's not like he had a choice at this point! He did one last look around the area (and a double-check on the robot in case it had cameras), before turning to Rachel.

"Listen, Rachel. What I'm about to do, it has to stay in this alleyway," Randy quickly told her, and took off his mask to position it right.

Rachel took her eyes off of the robot and looked at the boy. "Randy? What are you talki–" she was never able to finish her sentence as she saw Randy fix his mask and wore it again.

This time, unlike earlier where nothing happened, she was dumbfounded to see red and black cloth form around the purple-haired teen. The Ninja now stood where Randy once was.

She felt a bit faint after that, her ears were ringing and her vision blurred a bit, but she could hear and see Randy–the Ninja– fight the robotic creature. She can see him rip the robot down into shreds like a professional fighter, and all she could do about it was stare in awe.

It only took ten minutes at best, Randy had finally defeated the monster with little mistakes. Not removing the mask just yet, he turned to face an awestruck Rachel, who was on her knees. Randy helped her stand up, and Rachel did– albeit, a bit wobbly.

A few moments of silence passed, neither wanted to speak, before the Ninja finally took off the mask and revealed Randy Cunningham. He continued to stare at Rachel worriedly and Rachel continued to stare back in the same open-mouthed look. He didn't want to admit it, but he was afraid of how she would react to him when she found out that he was the Ninja.

"Okay, I didn't plan on revealing my identity to you, especially like this. See, the Ninja's identity is supposed to be a secret and I can't really tell anyone about i–" he was caught off his ramblings by an overjoyed Rachel, who had a tight grip on his waist. Randy honestly had no idea what to do, he did not expect her to hug him like that. He could feel his cheeks heating up and whatever rant he was trying to say was left forgotten.

"Thank you, thank you, thaaaankers so much for saving me!" she said, hugging the malfunctioning boy tighter with each appreciation. After a few more seconds, she let go of him. She had rosy cheeks on her face, just like Randy's, and a smile stretched her face, eyes shining like stars.

Randy was taken aback by this. He definitely did not expect that reaction towards her, but it felt like a massive weight was lifted off his shoulders at the same time. He sighed in relief, "Huh, wow. Okay, I did not expect that," he said, rubbing the back of his neck.

A more comfortable silence enveloped the two as they both stared at each other's eyes, before Rachel spoke, "So… you're the Ninja," she said, almost unbelieving the fact.

Randy shifted his leg to the other, "Uh, yeah.. Listen, what I said earlier- about not telling anyone? I mean it, the Ninja's identity should never be revealed to anyone. I only did this because we were cornered and there was nothing else I could do."

Rachel's expression dampened a bit, but she nodded in understanding, "I get it. I promise not to tell anyone about this. You can count on me, Randy!" she said, waving her hands in a faux salute and winking in the process. Randy's face couldn't get any more redder. That was just adorable!

_______

In the next few minutes, Randy and Rachel were looking for their two lost friends. After less than half an hour of searching, they both found them. The group then decided to look for the rest of their friends.

"I continued to get some free candy during the whole 'robot thing'," Howard stated, gesturing at his now full basket.

Juggo looked at him in confusion, "But weren't you scared that the robot would attack you?"

Howard shrugged, side-glancing Randy, "Eh, the Ninja probably beat the cheese out of it already," he said casually, popping a chewing gum.

Rachel actually perked up at this. Does that mean Howard knew?

Whatever, she wasn't going to ask about it, now. She promised to keep it a secret, and she will do anything to keep it that way.

_______

After a few hours, Randy and others found Theresa, Julian, and Dave. They shared candies with each other before calling it a night and parting ways.

Randy and Howard walked together now since they're next-door neighbors. During their walk, Randy told Howard how Rachel found out that he was the Ninja and how the robot targeted the two of them specifically.

"Haha! See? I told you that someone would find out!" Howard said mockingly, pointing at Randy's ninja costume.

Randy rolled his eyes, "Well, it isn't my fault this time!" he countered, "We were cornered and I had to do something!"

Howard offered a deaf ear, "Blah, blah, blah! All I hear are excuses!" he said before turning to the direction of his house, "Catch ya on the flip-side, Cunningham."

Randy didn't say anything, offering a playful eye-roll, before turning to his own house. Once he entered his home, he greeted his Mom and Dad before telling them he'll go to bed.

He changed from his costume to his pajamas, before sitting on his top bunk-bed with the Nomicon in hand. He opened it and his consciousness entered the ancient book.

_______

He was gently placed on the wooden floor of the big dojo, the same place he was sent during the whole Debbie Kang incident. There were samurais and dragons everywhere, just like last time. Randy was now growing nervous. Was the Nomicon really that upset that it had to make this look into some sort of deja vu?

Soon, the First Ninja's voice was heard, making Randy jump. He turned to face the said warrior, "You have once again revealed your identity to another innocent," he said with a strict tone.

Randy looked down in shame. "I'm sorry. It really felt like I had no other choice. It was either not out myself and get both of us hurt or that, and I really didn't want her to get hurt."

The First Ninja didn't speak, keeping his stern gaze a little longer, before sighing. Randy looked up in surprise, "I… commend you for what you did, Ninja. You saved a life tonight, once again, and that is noble of you."

Randy beamed at that, "Does that mean we're all good?" he asked, hopeful.

The First Ninja nodded before narrowing his eyes, "You are to not tell anyone about your identity any further. I believe that you made the right decision by trusting the young lady, but she will be the last."

Randy agreed, "I understand, Finja," when he saw the raised eye-brow that First Ninja sent him, he shrugged sheepishly, "Just something I've always wanted to call you."

He continued to look confused, but dropped the subject. "It appears that we have even more pressing matters to discuss about," First Ninja said, even more serious than before.

Randy, feeling the growing tension, knew what's up. "Right, McFist probably knows who I am if that robot had anything to say…" he said, covering his face with both hands. "What am I going to do?"

First Ninja placed a hand on Randy's head, "Do not anguish, young Ninja. We will solve this one step at a time."

Randy removed both hands from his face and offered First Ninja an appreciative smile. "Thanks, Finja."

They stayed there in comfortable silence, before First Ninja replied.

"Don't call me that."

_______

Happy Halloween! 🦇

[dancer-me]

Fic Writer Questions

@hopeintheashes tagged me (that was pleasantly surprising, so YAY) as well as anyone who wants to play (so if you want do - just do it!!!) 1) How many works do you have on AO3?

I have nine!

2) What’s your total AO3 word count?

106,461! I broke 100,000 on AO3 and didn't notice =O

3) How many fandoms have you written for and what are they?

For posted fanfiction, I have written for 5 fandoms at this point. Naruto (this was my early days, around 2007 to 2015, with pretty huge gaps inbetwen), Merlin (oops), High Seas (just the one small fic because Netflix had me angsting hard enough to break my hiatus), and of course 9-1-1 and 9-1-1 Lone Star!

4) What are your top 5 fics by kudos?

1. Express to Nowhere (911 / 911 Lone Star) 2. Giving up Ground (911 / 911 Lone Star) 3. Quarter Life Crisis (911) 4. Pull me Under (911) 5. Coming Soon to a Theatre Near You (911)

5) What’s the fic you’ve written with the angstiest ending?

I hesitate to say this about a WIP but I'm pretty sure it's going to be Giving up Ground when it's done. Not that it's going to have a sad ending, but that it's part of a continuous series and I already have the next part planned out and partially started (titled "Overdrawn" for anyone interested) so it will leave things feeling hopeful but open-ended, which can be construed as angsty. But really, all my other stories, while they have angst for the most part, have happy endings because I'm a sucker for it. Chaotic Energy is slow burning itself to the happiest of endings.

6) What’s the fic you’ve written with the happiest ending?

Hmm... I think it's Coming Soon to a Theatre Near You! This story was just such a fun blast of drama, hijinks, and hilarity, with our two leads getting their love story at the end of it all :) All my completed works have very happy endings, but this one resonates because there really wasn't any angst at all in the whole thing. Just good fun!

7) Do you write crossovers? If so what is the craziest one you’ve written?

The only cross-over I have ever written or been compelled to write in my life has been with 9-1-1 and 9-1-1: Lone Star, and that's my Chaotic Energy series. I don't know if it's "crazy", though it's turning out to be crazy long, since my original plan for it was 5 separate one-shots and Captain, that ship has long since sailed. We're deep at sea now, SOS. I love what it's become, though, and I hope everyone who reads it is enjoying the journey :)

8) Do you write smut? If so what kind?

Weeeeeeeeell. Here's the thing. I wrote m/f smut back in the day, on ff.net and carried my one shots over to AO3 when I made the move. I'm talking way back in the day - those two "E" stories are dated 2015 but I actually originally posted them in 2011 - TEN years ago!! I haven't written smut since (I'm not counting TK and Carlos getting frisky in chapter 2 of Giving up Ground). It's not that I wouldn't, but that I haven't been inspired and with time somehow I have also become ragingly self-conscious over whether I could still do a good job. My smut has always been emotion based though, as I've never been able to truly go PWP. That said, I'm actively open to and considering some m/m smut for my current fandom. Fingers crossed I don't embarrass myself.

9) Do you respond to comments, why or why not?

I do on all my recent work on AO3 (basically my 9-1-1 and lone star fics that I've written since coming out of hiatus).

10) Have you ever received hate on a fic?

Not on any of my AO3 work, though I have received hate on my much older work on ff.net to varying degrees of reasonability. So far the AO3 community has been very kind to me! I’ll get some comments where I think readers had hoped I’d go in a different direction, but nothing has ever been too much.

11) Have you ever had a fic stolen?

Not that I know of! Imitation is the greatest form of flattery but also no, stop, don’t do that.

12) Have you ever had a fic translated?

Yes, actually! I wrote my first ever published fic for Naruto called “Stand Alone” back between 2007 and 2011 (took a couple years off in the middle there to, you know, finish high school…) that someone asked me if they could translate into Russian. At the time I thought that was super cool, and it still is, but now I look back at that story and I think oof, now we can cringe at it in multiple languages. (more on that later)

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

No, but I’m not opposed to it! I’ve seen some excellent fic partnerships and it’s so great seeing writers leverage the creativity and talents of their friends and peers.

14) What’s your all time favorite ship?

Y’know, before 9-1-1, it was Merlin x Arthur, but Buck x Eddie have 110% of my heart and attention now.

15) What’s a WIP that you want to finish but don’t think you ever will?

On the topic of Merlin… I started writing “The Quest for the Knife” back in 2015 at the peak of my Merlin fixation after painstakingly planning it out. I have pages upon pages of outlines and notes for a 14 chapter adventure… somewhere. I found a piece of it like an archeological dig when I was moving this pandemic season, but the rest seems lost to time. I’m sad because I had gotten so excited about it and loved my first two chapters, but I don’t think I’ll ever finish it. I might take it down so I can stop wallowing in guilt.

16) What are your writing strengths?

I like to think I write good action / adventure scenes and plot lines, because I love painting vivid pictures of what I see playing out in my head whenever I think through my stories. I like to incorporate subtle (and not so subtle) humour as well in my work, which is born from my very active internal narrator voice as I go through my day-to-day and try to find the humour in everything. I also like to make outlines before all my bigger stories too, which ‘usually’ means I avoid cringey plot holes and can make some fun connections.

17) What are your writing weaknesses?

*looks at the camera very seriously* writing convincing smut. Well, that, and the kind of emotional, flirty love and fluff that I love devouring in fics. I don’t think I do nearly as good a job there. Get in a character’s head and angst them up? Sure. Wax poetic in a convincing and not jarring way about how much Character A is in love with Character B without making it seem like it was a bit too much of a leap? Debatable.

Also… I tend to require my readers to suspend a lot of disbelief to enjoy my fics with elements of adventure, because I tend to do exactly 5 minutes of Google research for something before I decide I’ve had enough and go ahead.

18) What are your thoughts on writing dialogue in other languages in a fic?

Here we revisit the cringe of “Stand Alone,” where I tried in the first half (the 2007 portion) to incorporate Japanese since I watched the anime in Japanese and felt this was the best way to try and have the character’s voices come off the page. It… is really just a big ol’ cringe, because I didn’t know the language, and I definitely didn’t use suffixes right at ALL. So… I tend to avoid it personally because I don’t want to cringe at how wrong my use of other languages is.

But if it fits you, your story, fits your character, and you know the language confidently enough to not embarrass yourself? You do you *carefully side steps around discourse and leaves the room*

19) What was the first fandom you wrote for?

Naruto!

20) What’s your favorite fic you’ve written?

I think it has to be “Express to Nowhere” these days. It was wanting to write that fic that pulled me out of hiatus and helped me find joy in writing and sharing my work again, and I have nothing but love for it and how it turned out.

Holy Cow I was warned that this level of introspection was going to take a minute but whew this was a good chunk of time. Fun to do and think about though!

Tagging: @221bsunsettowers, @onelonelytortillachip, @blueeyedbuckley and anyone who sees this and thinks, "hey, I have an answer for these questions." Because I am madly curious and would love to see your take!

[ayamari-no-goshi]

Eidolon 11 | (T)

ff.net | AO3

Fandom: Danny Phantom (DP)

Summary:  AU: What started off as the result of a simple act of rebellion ends up causing his life to spin out of control. How will young Danny cope with the results as well as a past that has a strange habit of coming back to haunt him.

Warnings: rated T for violence, mentions of death, kidnapping, and various other things

Parings: hints of Danny/Sam much later on

Notes: originally uploaded to Ff.net. Cross-posted to AO3 and tumblr

11: Alternative Paths

The police officers told him they needed to ask him a few questions. What they forgot to mention was he would be locked in a small, remarkably bare room for five hours with a police officer who was dead set in viewing him as a suspect. Danny had never been more relieved to get out of a room before in his life. Yeah, he understood family members needed to be questioned due to the statistics surrounding such crimes, but seriously! Did someone as scrawny as him really look like he could have hurt Winston that badly without getting any sort of injury in the process?

However, he couldn't really blame them for being suspicious, especially when it came to his whereabouts the previous night. How do you rationally explain you were chased by a murderous robot-ghost-thing? The obvious answer was to avoid the topic all together. He hoped he was convincing enough when he said he and his friends had taken a walk in the evening and returned to Sam's house to watch some movies. He specifically avoided mentioning the park. There was no telling what the officers would think if they learned he might have been around when it got torn up. He was actually kind of surprised no one in the precinct had mentioned it.

A few times during his interview, he had nervously flattened his bangs a few times, hoping to hide the cut he had suddenly remembered getting at the beginning of his terrifying adventure. The officer interviewing him had noticed the motion, which caused him to leave it alone the rest of the time he was in the room. Surprisingly, Danny wasn't asked about it. A little wary after he was finished and allowed to exit the room, he touched the spot only to find smooth skin. It took a lot of self-control to not dash to a reflective surface and examine his forehead. There was no use in making the officers more suspicious. As weird as a missing cut was he could wait until he got home to check.

Scratch that… he could check after he found a place to stay for a while. As he was about to exit the station, an older officer kindly reminded him of the fact his house was currently considered a crime scene. After apologizing for a lack of effort from the staff for trying to contact his family and promising to personally look into it in the morning, he directed Danny to a nearby phone situated at the front desk.

Danny was a little surprised at the kind attitude of the officer as he had been dealing with a special type of dick for the past several hours, but it was a nice change. Shaking his head a little, he moved to the phone to call Sam, praying she was still awake as it was approaching midnight. Both of his friends told him they wanted an update, but with it being late and he being emotionally, physically, and mentally drained, the only topic he wanted to discuss involved where he would be staying for the night.

As he was dialing her number, the door to the station opened and a tall man strolled in. The newcomer was tall and rather thin. He wore a clean black business suit which appeared to be expertly cared for and rather expensive. Gray hair had been slicked back into a neat ponytail, and calculating cold blue eyes surveyed his surroundings. Danny dropped the phone in surprise as he realized the man in front of him was the one and only Vlad Masters.

The sound from the phone brought him to Masters' attention, causing the man to adopt an unsettling grin. "Why here you are! I've been looking all over for you!" The tone of his voice and his expression adopted a semblance of concern, but it did not reach his eyes. "I was so worried after I found out what happened to Winston. My condolences, but I'm glad you're safe and sound."

"Don't talk about Winston like he's dead!" Danny snapped. "Look, can you just go away? If you haven't realized, it's been a pretty bad day for me, and I don't feel like talking to you right now."

"Of course. How inconsiderate of me. After everything you've been through today, you must be exhausted. Come, I'll make sure you're well taken care of."

It took Danny a moment to grasp the implications of Vlad's statement. "Wait… what? There's no way I'm going with you!"

"Poor boy, you must be more tired than you realize." The businessman pinched the bridge of his nose as he let out a dramatic sigh. "Don't you remember? It was determined that you would be placed into my care if anything were to happen to Winston."

"That's news to me!"

"Excuse me, but what exactly is going on here?" The sound of the officer's voice made him jump. He had forgotten there was another soul in the room. However, he couldn't be more relieved. Being in the room alone with the businessman was an unnerving thought. It was even more relieving when he realized the officer seemed to be equally suspicious.

In a truly professional manner, Vlad introduced himself and explained his relationship to Danny as well as his involvement in the custody battle. Again, he mentioned how he was now to act as a guardian in Winston's stead.

"I already told you, I'm not going anywhere with you!" Danny growled as he glared at the man. Something was very wrong with the picture. Winston didn't trust Vlad, and there was no way he would let him fall into the billionaire's hands.

"You have to forgive the boy. We had a little spat the last time we saw each other, and I'm afraid he hasn't forgiven me," Vlad apologetically explained to the officer.

"Spat? You broke into my house?"

Before Vlad could respond, the officer held up his hand to halt the brewing argument. "Mr. Masters, do you have some sort of proof you can take the boy?" Vlad's expression quickly changed from shocked to insulted as the officer spoke. "Surely a man of your standing can understand our position. With the way Mr. Wolfe was attacked, we cannot rule anyone out as a potential suspect. With you being involved in a custody battle and Danny's status as a minor, we are rather uncomfortable sending him on his way like this. I'm also fairly certain you weren't notified of the situation…" The officer's eyes narrowed as he appraised the man. "Which leads me to wonder how you found out."

"One of my staff members was going to drop off some papers at the house when she saw the police cars and asked what happened" Vlad explained with an impatient air. "But that's not important right now…"

As he watched Vlad begin to argue with the officer, Danny couldn't help but feel a rush of gratitude. For whatever reason, the officer did not seem to believe Vlad's story and generally seemed concerned for his wellbeing.

Everything seemed to be going in his favor when Danny was nearly bowled over by a sudden blast of cold air rushed by him. Startled, he started looking around to find some possible source… and open window, a vent, something to explain it. While he tried to wrack his brains for some other answer when the normal explanations were ruled out, he noticed the officer stumble slightly. He didn't think anything of it until the man rubbed his forehead and excused himself for a moment.

Rather unsettled by the officer's display and being left alone with Vlad, Danny moved back to the phone to attempt to resume his call. Though he was able to reach Sam's house this time, a presumed butler answered and informed him that "Miss Samantha is asleep and no longer taking calls for the night." While Danny was pretty sure it was a lie, he went with it and asked the man to give a message to her when he could.

Displeased by the turn of events, he was about to try calling Tucker when the officer returned to the room. Something did not seem right as he looked at him. The man's posture seemed stiff, and his eyes were unfocused and reddish. Wait… Danny blinked and rubbed his eyes before checking again. The man's eyes were actually red! Weren't they brown before?

"Sorry for the inconvenience." The officer's voice had an unusual mechanical quality to it… almost as if the words he was saying weren't actually his. He held up a document of some sorts as he spoke again. "It seems like someone did verify this earlier, but just forgot to place it somewhere it could be found."

"Does this mean everything's in order?" Vlad asked with a voice filled with hardly concealed delight.

"Yes. You can take the boy. We'll be in touch within the next few days to let you know how Wolfe is doing."

"Splendid! Come on my boy, it's time to go!"

Danny backed away as Vlad beckoned to him, nearly tripping over the desk in the process. His mind was screaming all sorts of warnings at him. The entire situation felt wrong, but he had no idea how to escape it. Vlad was blocking his way to the front door, and he doubted the few officers left in the building would appreciate a desperate search for the rear exit.

"What did you do to him?" he demanded as his eyes darted between both men before he pointed at Vlad. He knew he probably wasn't going to get an answer, but he hoped he could stall the man long enough to come up with some sort of plan.

"Pardon me? Whatever do you mean?"

"Y-you know what I mean!" While he tried to keep the anger in his voice, it was quickly giving way to panic. Vlad kept moving towards him wearing an increasingly predatory expression which was really creeping him out. Strangely, the thought of accidently falling through the wall crossed his mind. Unsettling as it was, it was a far better situation than the one he was currently in. "The officer's not acting right!"

Vlad replied, but his words were drowned out as a strange coldness started to seep into his body, quickly filling every aspect. He tried to escape, thinking it was somehow tied to where he was standing, but his legs wouldn't respond. They felt heavy and strangely detached; his arms were beginning to feel the same way. He tried to yell out without any success. He soon realized his mind was being pushed further away from the sensations of his body and into something like a dark crevasse to be stored and forgotten.

But the coldness was not finished. It briefly brushed against his mind and seemed to whisper in an almost familiar voice, "Relax… It'll be safer for you and me if you do…"

Danny's last conscious thought before the darkness completely took him was to wonder if he was ever going to wake up.

….

When he came to, Danny found himself lying on his back and staring at an unfamiliar white ceiling. His mind felt groggy and his body heavy. Though he wasn't sure, he felt as if he had been asleep for quite some time. Sitting up, he tried to remember how he got where he was… only, he didn't know where that might be.

Looking around, he realized something wasn't right. The room he was in was rather large. It was a bedroom, not much different from Sam's, only it didn't have any posters or the same dark decorations. In fact, the room was mostly white save for some wooden furniture. Even the four-poster bed he was sitting on had a white comforter and curtains. The only real decoration in the room was a painting on the wall directly across from him which seemed to show military conquest with… a paranormal influence. It was rather grotesques.

The blank room gave him an uneasy feeling. Although it definitely wasn't, it gave him the feeling he was in a jail of sorts. Unnerved, he slowly got up and moved to the room's single window. After moving the curtains aside, he cursed as he realized the glass was heavily frosted, preventing him from seeing any scenery. His next move was to try the door, but it was locked.

After a panicked few minutes trying everything he could think of to attempt to open the door, he placed his back against the door and slid down it. What was he going to do? The better question was what was going to happen to him? With the room being blank, it gave him no indication of what he should expect. He should, he supposed, be thankful for it, but the wait might be too much for him to handle. What was the old adage? The suspense is worse than the actual event? He really hoped that wouldn't be the case.

xxxxxx

The sound of one of her parents calling for her to come into the downstairs wafted through the room, however, Sam was dead set on ignoring the summons. There were far more important things on her mind than dealing with whatever new 'daughter improvement project' they had come up with.

She was incredibly worried about her friend who neither she nor Tucker had heard from in a little over two days. At first she thought it might be due to being overwhelmed by suddenly finding out the man who raised him had been severely attacked and/or the police being jerks, but a call earlier in the day really concerned her.

She had been thinking about calling the police in the morning (while skipping class due to a feigned illness), however they beat her to the punch. Around eleven, she had received a call from one of the detectives asking her if she had heard from Danny. She told him no right before demanding to know what was wrong. Though it took a little bit of coaxing (and a reminder of her parents' influences), the officer admitted they had no idea where the boy was. He disappeared after his interview with another officer, and though they hated to admit it, after failing to contact him or anyone else who might have the boy, he was being labeled as a missing person. Her immediate response was to insult the competence of him and the rest of the force as the boy had gone missing from underneath their noses, but after she calmed down a bit, she promised to help in whatever way she could.

Sam sat down on her large purple clad bed and stared up at one of the posters on the ceiling as she tried to understand the situation. Her friend, who seemed to attract terrible and odd events, was now missing. Danny had tried to contact her the night he disappeared, but her family had forbidden her from further calls when she had returned home that night after they learned about the attack on Winston. Somehow, they had gotten the notion whatever had harmed Winston could attack her if she continued to talk to Danny. Though it was kind of nice to know they cared, they had taken it way overbroad.

But what was strange about the situation was there was no security image of Danny leaving the precinct. The officer had explained to her they had installed cameras a while back after someone had tried to break in to the office in an attempt to steal their guns. Due to safely concerns, they regularly had them checked, but the night Danny disappeared, they had a major malfunction. There was an image of him entering the entrance area, but after a few minutes, the image distorted so badly they could not make heads or tails of it. It also seemed to return to normal rather suddenly after a while, but Danny was long gone by then.

A look at the clock told her she was going to have to wait a while before she could contact Tucker. Unlike her, he had been forced to go to school. She had no idea if he already knew Danny was missing, but no matter what, he was going to help her try to find him. Tucker was the probably the only person in town who could possibly get an image off of the damaged security tape, and the only other person (besides her) who Danny had trusted with his issues. They had to try and do what they could to help him.

…

"So, any luck?" Sam asked the boy currently sitting on her rug surrounded by any number of other electronic equipment. He had been staring at the screen of his PDA with an intense look for quite some time.

She had managed to contact Tucker mere moments after he was finished with his classes for the day and explained the situation. After freaking out a bit, he told her he would be over soon after he made a quick stop. He arrived about forty minutes later looking more determined than he had ever seen him while carrying a bookbag filled to the brim with tech supplies she had never seen before. After asking if he needed anything, Tucker quickly went to work with his task.

"…Whoever did this to this footage is really good…" he eventually replied after a few more minutes of silence.

"What do you mean?" Sam asked hesitantly. It was rare to hear such a tone in Tucker's voice when it came to technology. He could usually work his way around a system in a few seconds, minutes if it was more complicated, but this was really causing him problems.

"It's hard to explain… Usually, people just modify existing images when they don't something seen, but this guy actually managed to replace some of the footage with an error screen…"

"So… it's gone… Like completely, gone? You can't trace it or anything?" There was no way for her to hide the hint of panic in her voice. If Tucker couldn't bring up anything, no one could… which meant they weren't going to have anything to use to find Danny.

A small laugh escaped Tucker, which caused her to stare at the boy. "Jeez, Sam, you shouldn't think so little of me. Who do you think I am? This guy, though good, made a small mistake. I guess he got interrupted or something because he started just covering up the image after a while instead of changing it. To most people, it's nearly impossible to catch, but it's there. Just give me a little bit of time…."

"A little bit of time?" Sam repeated as she watched him frantically work with his PDA. "How long are we talking about?"

He hit a few more buttons on the screen before he looked up and smiled. "Does 'now' work for you?"

"Tucker, you're amazing!"

"I know, I know. But it's nice to have my fans remind me."

Sam pulled down his hat in response as she sat next to him on the floor. "Anyways, do you have the entire footage?"

"I couldn't get part of it due to the replacement… but it looks like a little less than half was just modified…. So, let's see what no one wanted us to find…." He pressed a button on the screen and a fuzzy image began to appear. On the footage, they could see Danny backing away from someone standing near the door. It was difficult to make out, but judging from Danny's posture, he did not seem to be happy to see the person. After a little bit, Danny stopped retreating and followed the unknown man out the door.

Without any prodding, Tucker tried to see if he could clear the image a little or at least clear up the image of the suspect. After frantically trying several different techniques, he sighed and rubbed his eyes with his free hand. According to him, even though the person had changed methods, they were still able to damage the rest of the footage.

"I'll continue to work with it when I get home," he promised. "This is going to require some big guns for me to get something useful out of this. But don't worry; I'm not going to give up. After he saved our lives, I think this is the least I can do for him."

…..

Tucker had been booted from the house as soon as Sam's parents caught him being there. Thinking back, she was a little surprised he had managed to sneak past them in the first place since they were particularly good at catching people going up to her room. They had punished her in response by having her stay in her room for the rest of the night, which didn't bother her in the least bit.

Around seven in the evening she received a call on her cell. Noticing the number, she picked it up as quickly as possible, hoping her parents didn't hear it ringing. "Did you find anything?" she asked the caller as a form of greeting. The caller's reply was spoken too quickly and frantically for her to understand. "Whoa, slow down Tucker! I can't understand you!"

"Sam… it's worse than we thought!" came his panicked reply. "I managed to identify who was in the police station with Danny."

"Yeah? Well, who was it?"

"It was… Vlad Masters…."

Sam barely registered the phone slipping from her fingers and landing on the floor. How could she be so stupid? She knew that man had an interest in getting hold of Danny and should be the first logical suspect, but she didn't realize he would have stooped so low.

Angry with herself, she reached down to grab her phone so she could calm a frantic Tucker but stopped midway as a thought crossed her mind. How were they going to be able to get Danny back from a man who had mastered in lies with an unimaginable fortune to back him up?

=============================================================

I just wanted to point out that the way these officers are depicted is due to experience. The ones in the borough where I grew up were usually nice, but if they had it in their minds you did something wrong, you could be treated like trash. But at the same time, they're the reason why my childhood bully wasn't excepted into the NFL - they slapped him with assault charges when he decided to get into a fight while he was in college. I have mixed feelings. The officers from the neighboring borough were wonderful.

[ejzah]

A/N: I was hoping I wouldn’t have to do this, but here’s yesterday’s Whumptober post since ff.net is still having issues off and on. Sorry for clogging up your feeds with all my posts about this.

***

“Deeks, sit rep!” Callen shouted over comms as Deeks grunted loudly in pain. It wasn’t the first time he’d requested an update. Deeks punched one of the two gunmen trying to corner him, slamming the guy into the concrete wall and managed a breathless,

“Oh, I’m fantastic.” The other guy, who had a severe buzz cut and three inches on Deeks, stalked closer while he surveyed the situation. He’d lost his gun fighting the first gunman; it had flown somewhere across the room. It was too far away for Deeks to make a run for it and he was only armed with his knife now. “Actually, some back up might be nice,” he decided.

“Ok, we’re on our way.” As he dropped into a crouch to avoid his opponent’s roundhouse kick, Deeks hoped they came quickly.

***

“Stay down!” Deeks shouted, digging his knee into his opponent’s back. The guy kept jerking, nearly dislodging Deeks’ hold. It was taking all his strength to keep him down.

He panted as he leaned over the man. A couple of drops of blood fell from his nose, landing on the guy’s shirt, and spread into oblong dots.

The man underneath him roared and flipped onto his back, using the force to slam Deeks into the ground. His head made a sharp crack as it hit the concrete and Deeks instantly lost his grip, all his attention now focused on staying conscious.

He didn’t even see the first kick coming, but he certainly felt it. The breath rushed from his lungs and he gasped, curling into the fetal position for a second.

The guy must have been wearing steel-toed boots, because every kick felt like it was pulverizing Deeks’ insides. Deeks let his body go limp, not needing to fake his labored breathing.

He kicked Deeks in the stomach a couple more time, apparently just for the fun of it. Deeks didn’t move, letting his head fall back. His opponent looked over him and grinned, pulling out a sharp looking knife. As he bent forward, Deeks thrust himself forward and used the momentum to ram the man straight into a concrete pillar.

It was enough to stun him and Deeks dove for his gun, grasping the handle and rolling onto his back just as the door to the floor burst open and Sam rushed in, immediately followed by Callen and Kensi.

“On your knees!” Sam shouted, aiming his automatic rifle at Deeks’ opponent, who was just stumbling to his feet. He snarled, but dropped to his knees without a fight.

“Oh, sure. Now you come after I do all the work,” Deeks muttered breathlessly, wincing as he tried to sit up. Kensi rushed to his side, her hands quickly running over his torso as she eyed him with concerned.

“Deeks, are you ok? No, don’t get up,” she said, pressing on his shoulder.

“I’m fine,” he insisted. His head felt like someone had, well, shoved it into a wall and his ribs were on fire, but he didn’t think it was any worse than he’d had before.

“It sounded like he was knocking the crap out of you,” Callen commented, offering Deeks a hand.

“I, agh,” He gasped as his abdomen protested the sudden movement and stood in a hunched position for a minute, waiting for the pain to subside while Kensi hovered over him. “I was just, uh, lulling him into a false sense of security.”

“Sure you were,” Sam said as he finished handcuffing the Deeks’ opponent and jerked him to his feet. He glared at Deeks again, baring his teeth. Deeks winked at him and grinned, knowing that his teeth, coated with blood, would be a nasty sight.

“Kens, you take Deeks to the emergency. We’ll handle these two guys.”

As Kensi wrapped her arm around his waist, he tried not stumble.

***

Deeks shifted uncomfortably, stretching his torso to relieve some of the pressure. His trip to the ER had been uneventful with a diagnosis of bruised ribs, as he’d expected, and a couple stitches to his bottom lip.

The attending doctor, an overworked looking man who could have been anywhere between 30 and 40, had given him a script for prescription strength Tylenol. So far the three pills he’d taken hadn’t soaked in.

“You almost finished?” Kensi asked, coming up behind him and resting her chin on his shoulder.

“Yeah, I just need to send my after case, incident, and my injury reports to LAPD,” he said.

“I’m so glad I don’t have to fill out reports for two agencies.”

“Your sense of sympathy is remarkable,” Deeks drawled with a grin. He tilted his head back for a kiss and then turned back to his work.

It was after 8 by the time they got home and Deeks was absolutely wiped. It felt like every part of his body had been pummeled with a meat tenderizer. He gingerly tugged off his jacket, which reignited the fiery pain in his lower abdomen.

Kensi flipped on a few lights, took Monty for a quick bathroom trip, and then started rooting around in the fridge and cupboards.

“Ok, your choices are leftover Pho or my famous peanut butter and jelly sandwiches.”

“I think I’ll pass on dinner,” he said, shuffling to the stairs. Kensi paused in the process of filling two bowls with soup, already having guessed his normal preference.

“Are you sure? You haven’t eaten all day.”

“I really just want to sleep.” He was exhausted and laying down sounded blissful.

Kensi frowned, but didn’t push any further and dumped one of the bowls back into the takeout container. She joined him at the foot of the stairs and gently wrapped her arms around him in a hug.

“Ok. I’ll be up in a little bit,” she told him, punctuating her words with a kiss. Deeks grinned for the first time in several hours. If he wasn’t so sore and tired, he would seriously consider starting something.

He ran his nose along the length of Kensi’s jaw and across her cheek. Kensi made an incredibly sexy sound in the back of her throat as he teased her lips apart. Cupping the back of her head, he kissed her thoroughly. Kensi’s arms came around him again, pulling him against her. He yelped at the sudden pain the slight pressure had caused in his entire abdomen.

“I’m fine, I’m fine,” he insisted as Kensi instantly jerked away, her hands fluttering over him once again. “It’s just my ribs.”

“That’s not good, babe,” Kensi said with a frown. “If it still hurts this much tomorrow, I’m taking you back to the doctor.”

“I’ll feel better once I lay down.”

***

An hour or so later, Kensi had finished dinner, taken Monty for a quick walk, and paid a couple bills. She hadn’t heard any sound since Deeks went upstairs. When she checked their room, she found him laying on his back amid a nest of pillows.

She was reassured to see him sound asleep. Careful not to wake him, she pressed a kiss to his forehead. His skin was warm and smelled faintly of sweat and blood. He must have been extremely tired to forego a shower.

She changed and slipped into bed beside him, resting a hand on his chest. Deeks sighed a little in his sleep, but didn’t move.

Kensi woke up suddenly, blinking in the darkness. She automatically swept her hand over Deeks’ side of the bed and found it empty.

Frowning, she sat up and glanced around the room, noticing the stream of light coming from under the bathroom door. There was nothing unusual about Deeks using the bathroom in the middle of the night, but her stomach clenched with unexpected foreboding as she approached the door.

“Babe, you ok in there?” she asked quietly, tapping on the door. He didn’t answer so she tapped again and heard the unmistakable sound of retching. She yanked the door open without and gasped as she saw him bent over the toilet. “Deeks,” she murmured, rushing to his side.

He weakly turned his head, his eyes glassy and skin visibly sweaty. Kensi brushed his damp hair back from his forehead, her concern mounting as she felt his burning skin. She didn’t need a thermometer to know he had a fever.

“I don’t feel very good,” he mumbled hoarsely, flinching as he shifted minutely.

“How bad does your stomach hurt?”

“It’s killing me. I took some antacids, but it just made it worse.” His words were becoming more slurred and his head drooped. “Feels like something’s gonna explode.”

Kensi wrapped her arms around his torso, easing him back against her chest. He still whimpered, his entire body shaking with the effort to support himself at all. This was definitely more than just bruised ribs.

She lifted his damp shirt, revealing his stomach and upper chest.

“Oh my god,” she murmured. Dark, almost black bruises covered the majority of his abdomen. They were the worst on his right, lower side. “Ok, we need to get to the hospital now.”

“Ok,” he muttered, not questioning her. His face drained of color as he pushed himself up on shaking arms and for a moment Kensi was worried he was going to pass out.

She helped him sit on the bed, reluctant to leave him alone. He seemed unaware of her worry, consumed with holding himself upright, one arm loosely wrapped around his middle.

“I’m going to grab your shoes and the keys. Don’t move.”

By the time they were on their way to the hospital, Kensi could tell that the pain was getting worse. She sped down the quiet streets of their neighborhood, praying that an unsuspecting police officer wouldn’t try to pull them over.

“Ok, baby, we’re almost there,” she told him, more for her own sake than his, as she parked haphazardly in front of the emergency entrance. Deeks made it through the door on his own, but Kensi knew the effort had cost him. She got him situated in a chair in the waiting area and he groaned again, curling in on himself.

There was one nurse on duty behind the front desk, paging through a file. She didn’t look up as Kensi approached, consumed with her task. Kensi smacked her hand against the top of the counter and the nurse looked up in dismay and then annoyance.

“My husband needs to be checked out immediately,” Kensi said, gesturing to where Deeks was stretched into an awkward position in an attempt to find some relief. “He was kicked in the stomach earlier today and now he has severe bruising and stomach pain.”

Picking up on the urgency in her tone, the nurse pulled a stethoscope from around her neck and hurried towards Deeks.

“When did you say he was kicked?” she asked. Deeks didn’t resist when she lifted his shirt and pressed the chest piece to his lower abdomen. He jerked reflexively when she pushed a little harder, gripping the arm of the chair so tightly his nails bit into the fabric.

“Um, about 12 hours ago.”

“Any other symptoms?”

“He has a fever and nausea. He threw up earlier. We went to the ER and the doctor said it was just bruised ribs, but I think it’s something else,” Kensi explained, feeling helpless as the nurse gave Deeks a cursory examination.

“Does it hurt when I push here?” She directed this question to Deeks, who hissed loudly when she lightly palpitated the most bruised area.

“Son-of-a,” he muttered.

“I’ll take that as a yes,” she said grimly, turning back to Kensi. “I’ll have someone bring a wheelchair and get a doctor to see your husband as soon as possible. You can fill out his paperwork while we wait.”

***

Kensi walked down the hall, chewing on her bottom lip as she clutched Deeks’ phone to her chest. A doctor had come to evaluate Deeks about 20 minutes after they arrived and after another brief examination and a few questions, ordered a CT scan.

The doctor hadn’t seemed overly concerned until the results had come back. Then all hell broke loose. Suddenly Deeks was transferred to a gurney while the doctor pulled her aside and quickly explained that he thought Deeks was suffering from internal bleeding or a ruptured organ. She’d barely had time to kiss Deeks before he was wheeled off for emergency surgery.

Kensi had been pacing ever since; she was exhausted, but if she sat down, she knew the fear would overwhelm her. God, she hadn’t even had the chance to say “I love you” and her mind was filled with the image of his sweaty, pained face.

“Mrs. Deeks?” She spun around, rushing over to the doctor who performed Deeks’ surgery.

“Dr. Andrews, is he alright?” she demanded.

“We had to remove his appendix, but the surgery went well.”

“His appendix,” Kensi repeated and Dr. Andrews nodded.

“The trauma he received inflamed his appendix and over the course of the day, the organ became infected, causing acute appendicitis,” he explained, handing her a image from the CT scan and indicating the spot where his appendix had been. It was a darkened mass that Kensi, even with her limited knowledge, knew should not be there.

“Oh my god.” She could only imagine the force Deeks was kicked with to cause that type of damage and she felt slightly nauseous.

“Some of the surrounding tissue and other organs sustained fairly significant inflammation as well, so we will want to monitor him for a couple days.”

“So he could need more surgery?” she asked a little faintly.

“In my professional opinion, it’s unlikely. We just want to be sure.” When Kensi continued to look worried, he touched her shoulder, his expression kindly. “Your husband is going to be fine,” he assured her. “You can go in and see him now if you’d like.”

He was still unconscious when she entered his room, attached to several IV’s and a heart monitor, with an oxygen mask over his face.

She stepped right up to the bed, but hesitated to touch him. He looked so fragile with all the wires trailing from his body and a large white bandage covering a good portion of his midsection. She contented herself with running her fingers through his hair.

His eyes fluttered at her touch, opening completely when she gently cupped his cheek. Slowly Deeks opened his eyes completely, glancing around the room in mild confusion before he landed on her.

“Hey,” he murmured hoarsely. He frowned at the oxygen mask and clumsily took it off.

“Hey, baby. How’re you feeling?” she asked, tugging a chair towards the bed and sitting down.

“Like someone pulled my insides out and stuffed them back in.”

“Well, I guess they kind of did. They had to take your appendix out.”

“Huh.” He glanced down at his bare torso, poking at the bandage. “I wonder if I’ll have a big scar,” he said.

“It doesn’t matter. I’m just glad you’re going to be alright,” she said. Deeks gave her a lazy grin.

“But just think of my beautiful golden skin, marred by a big, nasty scar. The women will be mourning in the streets.”

“Oh my god, you are so stupid.” She leaned forward, pressing her forehead against his and rested her hand over the center of his chest, reassured by the steady beat of his heart. His skin was still a little warmer than normal. “I was really scared,” she whispered.

He laid his hand over hers, applying gentle pressure.

“Me too,” he admitted. “But I’m ok.” He shifted his head slightly and kissed her. “Thanks for making sure I didn’t explode.”

Kensi laughed wetly, cupping his cheek.

“Anytime.” They stayed like that for several minutes until Deeks started to blink sleepily. “Do you need anything?” she asked.

“I’m a little chilly.”

“I’ll see if there’s an extra blanket.” Deeks grabbed her hand a little tighter, tugging lightly.

“Or we could snuggle,” he suggested with an impish smirk. Kensi eyed his bandages, reluctant to risk hurting him. “Are you really going to let me lay here and freeze.” He lifted the edge of his blanket in a clear invitation. Rolling her eyes, Kensi crawled in beside him, carefully arranging her arms around him. When they were settled, Deeks sighed, pressing his nose into her hair.

It was hardly comfortable, with the safety bar digging into her back and the constant beeping, but Kensi was content to lie there all night. She’d nearly lost Deeks again and she wasn’t about to stray too far.

***

A/N: Am I playing fast and loose with science and medicine again? Why yes I am. While rare, blunt abdominal trauma has been known to cause appendicitis on occasion.

I also based Deeks’ symptoms on my own experience with a twisted ovary, which was originally misdiagnosed as appendicitis and a couple cousins who actually did have acute appendicitis and required surgery.

[wheresmynaya]

Lopez’s 8 Ch.4 | Brittana

Thank you all for the luv last chapter and for those who stopped by here for a chat too! Still getting used to writing for such a big 'cast' so hopefully that's translating alright. 

Also available on ff.net (x) ao3 (x) & below the cut! 

With everyone moved into the loft and somewhat acquainted with one another, Santana feels like she can breathe a little easier. Keyword: a little. The team is aware of what they need to do and set off on their tasks, even Quinn’s orders are already starting to arrive at the loft. You think you’re addicted to online shopping? Well, you’ve never met someone like Quinn Fabray.

“What is all this?” Santana asks as she comes round. She’s eyeing all the empty packaging and bubble wrap then steps out of the way just in time as a hulking man rolls a large box through her path. She knew she should’ve given Quinn some ground rules when she told her to make sure they had the necessary equipment needed.

Who the hell knows what she considers necessary.

“Don’t worry, you’ll like them,” Quinn chuckles then gives the guy’s shoulder a pat, “Thank you, Hank. You can set it down by that wall over there.”

“Yes, Miss Fabray,” He nods and wheels off the box.

Santana quirks a brow, “You’re on a first name basis with the delivery guy?”

“We’ve been in business together for awhile,” Quinn nods and waves for her to come closer. “Two things first,” Quinn points to the giant box being wheeled away, “That’s a 3D Printer – which we’re going to have so much fun with once it’s installed – and these.”

Santana looks down at pair of the most dorkiest glasses she’s ever seen being handed to her.

“Try them on,” Quinn says.

Santana snorts and backs away with a chuckle, “I’m not wearing those.”

Quinn rolls her eyes, “Just do it.”

“So you can snap an embarrassing pic of me to post everywhere?” Santana waves off, “Nope. I wear contacts for a reason.”

Quinn just gives her a stern look until Santana finally relents and snatches them from her hand.

She slides them on and is immediately surprised by the graphics that pop up. These aren’t your normal pair of dork glasses, they’re super high tech dork glasses! She looks around at the various boxes and equipment surrounding before looking back to Quinn who has this proud smile on her face.

“Cool right?” She asks while Santana continues to look around.

“This is awesome,” Santana mumbles in awe. She sees an icon that kind of look like a camera and asks, “Can this thing take freaking pictures?”

“Even better,” Quinn answers, “They can capture scans which can be sent to Mercedes’ laptop or directly to the 3D printer. Once it’s up and running, we can replicate pretty much anything!”

“Like the necklace?” Santana smirks.

“Like the necklace,” Quinn confirms.

Santana’s just about to praise her for nabbing such a handy find when the door leading to the garage slides open and in comes Brittany, clad in her leather jacket and Ray Bans.

“Someone’s parked in the loading zone. I think you’re about to get towed,” Brittany calls out as she chucks her helmet on the counter and slides off her sunglasses.

“Crap!” Tina curses from her desk set up across the room and quickly bolts outside.

Quinn chuckles at the pair but Santana continues to watch as Brittany grabs a bottle of water from the fridge. Her cheeks look a little flushed as she tips the bottle back for a long drink and Santana stares the whole time, wondering why Brittany doesn’t wear this leather jacket more often. That paired with Brittany’s tight blue jeans and white t-shirt is a look Santana won’t ever get tired of.

When Brittany pulls away from the bottle, she notices Santana and Quinn and starts to make her way over to them. Now with her coming their way head on, Santana can’t help but admire the view. It seems like Brittany knows Santana’s caught in a trance again because she reaches up and rakes her fingers through her hair, attempting to bring some life into it after being constrained by her helmet.

As Santana’s eyes slowly drag up Brittany’s slim frame, her mouth goes dry.

“Jesus, give me those!” Quinn snaps when she notices Santana’s leering.

“What?” Santana sputters out.  

“You’re ridiculous. That’s what,” Quinn shakes her head just as Brittany approaches them.  

“Shut up,” Santana hisses just before Brittany greets them.

“Hey, finally invest in a pair of x-ray glasses?” Brittany asks but it’s directed at Santana. She’s wearing this smug grin as she adds, “Although, you don’t need them if wanted to see me naked.”  

“Here we go,” Quinn groans as she face palms while Santana shakes her head.

“They’re not x-ray glasses,” Santana corrects her.

“Just for looks then?” Brittany asks, “Do we all get a pair?”

“No, we’ll just share this one,” Quinn says as Santana hands them over to her, “I already know what Santana would use them for anyway and I don’t think anyone needs that.”

Brittany frowns at Quinn, “You don’t want Santana to see? That’s kind of rude.”

“They’re not for seeing,” Santana clarifies with a chuckle, “They can take pictures.”

“Oh! Wow, really? That’s like some super secret spy stuff,” Brittany comments before taking a sip from her bottle.

“Yeah. They’ll be perfect for Emma when she and Tina go to the Cartier vault,” Quinn replies proudly.

Santana nods while Quinn stows away the glasses case for safe keeping. She turns to Brittany, “Nice jacket.”

Brittany looks down at what she’s wearing as if she forgot, “Oh this old thing?”

Santana chuckles, “Did you have a good ride?”

Brittany hops up on a counter and swings her legs, “Yeah, it was nice. Hot out, but nice. You should come with me next time. It’d be perfect for you, maybe you’ll finally find some peace.”

Santana shakes her head, “Peace? That’s the last thing I’d find if I got on that thing with you.”

“See, that’s what I don’t get,” Brittany laughs and waves at all the new equipment, “You can play with all this gear and put yourself in danger with these heists, but you draw the line at riding a motorcycle? Because that’s too risky?”

Santana takes a step closer to Brittany, “Among other things, yes.”

“Other things like what?” Brittany challenges as she sets down her water bottle. Her legs fall open a little wider and Santana nearly slips in to stand right between them without even noticing.

“Well for starters,” Santana narrows her eyes as she steps like she’s being drawn in, “There’s the helmet hair.” She reaches up and ruffles Brittany’s blonde hair, momentarily reveling in the softness, “Not cute.”

“You don’t think I’m cute?” Brittany asks behind a pout.

Santana almost falls for Brittany’s trap, “I just don’t think I could pull that off as well as you do.”

“I beg to differ,” Brittany grins mischievously and tugs Santana in close by her hips. It catches Santana off guard, but she doesn’t move once she’s there. She’s too caught up in the look Brittany’s giving her, “I’ve had many, many dreams of you doing just that and I can confirm, you looked very sexy. No surprise there though, you make everything look sexy.”

Santana smirks as she lifts a brow, “You having dreams about me now?”

“Yup!” Brittany pops the ‘p’ while her hands slide around to the small of Santana’s back, “Hot ones too. I’m kind of jealous of dreamy me. She has way more fun than I do.”  

Santana giggles but it comes out low and husky.

The sound has Brittany licking her lips and the two get so caught up in staring at each other that they completely forget that they aren’t exactly alone. With how wound up they are and so desperate for each other, giving a fuck about being alone has nearly left the building. Brittany’s got Santana trapped between her legs and if Santana’s hands start to trail inward, she’d be right where Brittany wants her.

She thinks back on what Brittany said about changing her mind soon and she finds herself really considering it now.

When has an orgasm ever gotten her into trouble?

Santana thinks of a specific instance actually but chooses to ignore that one because majority of the time it doesn’t.

“Can you two make out somewhere else?” Quinn interrupts with a groan, “Some of us are trying to work here.”

Santana and Brittany both blink out of their daze and pull away from each other.

Thankfully, Quinn and the random delivery guy Hank are the only ones around but Santana doesn’t want to make something like that nearly happening in front of everyone a habit. She doesn’t want to deal with having to explain what’s going on between them; she just wants to steal some expensive shit and get rich, not have a whole existential crisis about whether or not her feelings would be taken seriously.

“I – I’m going to make sure Tina’s alright,” Santana says abruptly and heads outside. The more distance she can put between her and Brittany right now, the better. That was too close of a call for her comfort.

Quinn just eyes Santana leaving and turns back to Brittany with this tired look on her face, “So I see you two are still like this…”

Brittany frowns as Santana disappears out the door, “I guess so.”

\\

As the countdown ticks away, the most important day for Santana arrives. She’s trying hard to seem cool and collected, but on the inside she can’t help but feel a little anxious. Today, Emma and Tina are off to the jewelers to hopefully get a successful scan of the Toussaint so Quinn can begin the printing process and Tina can start crafting the decoy. It’s probably the most important part of the entire heist because without this scan, the whole thing goes to shit.

“Knock knock,” Brittany says softly as she raps her knuckles on Santana’s bedroom door. She’s already poking her head in through the crack, looking for where her partner might be.

“Hey,” Santana greets from the edge of her bed. She’s been sitting there for awhile trying to wrangle her thoughts so she can make it in time for the live feed of Emma and Tina’s trip.

“We’re just about to connect to the feed downstairs. You coming down?” Brittany asks.

Santana just nods, “Yeah. I’ll be there in a sec.”

Brittany frowns a little at the sight of her and the sound of that faraway tone.

“You okay?” She asks in that voice that calms Santana and puts her on edge even more so all at once. The blonde goes to take a seat next to her partner and eyes her warily, “You look stressed.”

“I think I am,” Santana chuckles lightly and turns to Brittany, “It’s an important day.”

Brittany gives her a sympathetic grin and squeezes at Santana’s thigh, “We’re gonna be fine. Everyone knows what they need to do. You know how to get us out if something comes up, right?”

Santana returns the grin, “Right.”

“So there’s nothing to worry about then,” Brittany shrugs, “We’re prepared for whatever happens. You made sure of that.”

“Yeah, you’re right,” Santana nods, already feeling somewhat eased by Brittany’s words, “Just the jitters I guess.”

“We’ll be okay,” Brittany moves to stand and holds out her hand, “Now turn that frown upside down, we’ve got a show to catch.”

Santana smiles at the offered hand.

This is why their dynamic is so perfect;. when one is starting to spin out, the other takes hold of the wheel and gets them back on track. They balance each other out but also always have each other’s backs. It’s something Santana’s never found in anyone else and it’s one of her favorite things about being in this with Brittany.

So Santana takes Brittany’s hand and they head downstairs together.

\\

It’s one of the most nerve-racking thirty minutes of Santana’s life, but just as Brittany predicted everything goes according to plan. They get a perfect scan and start the printing process so that by the time Tina returns to the loft there is a set of zirconia ready for her. While Emma’s across town attending her first session with Rachel Berry in regards to designing the gown she’ll wear for the Gala, Tina gets started on replicating the necklace.

“Wow,” Tina breathes out as she steps forward to get a closer look. The rest of the team minus Emma is huddled around her as she looks in the 3D printer’s case, almost mesmerized by how similar the fake is to the actual necklace.

“Think you can work with this?” Santana smirks, nudging her childhood friend’s arm.

Tina’s smile is big and bright, “Definitely. This’ll be fun!”

Sugar steps up too and her hands itch to make a grab at it, “You guys think I can try it on?”

“No!” Everyone says in unison.

Sugar just pouts and jams her hands into her pockets.

\\

In the following days the team begins to find their grove and go off on their individual missions: Emma deep in designing Rachel Berry’s dress, Tina hard at work on the necklace, and Mercedes hacking away. While Brittany hangs back with her and Sugar, Santana and Quinn head to the Met for their next task: plant a Banksy.

It’s a simple switcheroo, one that’ll cause enough ruckus to grab the security team’s attention which is exactly what they want. Minus the getting caught part, of course.

So once inside the Met, the two split off: Santana gets into position with the painting while Quinn distracts a guard. They’ve done something like this loads of times before, so the switch is smooth and Santana’s out of there in no time. With the Met thinking there’s been a breach of their security system, Mercedes can slip in and do whatever she needs to do to make sure that they can get around undetected.

Once a crowd begins to form, it’s all pretty fast moving and the two slowly make their way back to the car without a second glance.

When Santana and Quinn get inside, Santana pulls out her phone to send a text to Brittany to update her on their progress. She’s surprised to find a new text waiting for her though when she swipes into the conversation. It’s a selfie with Brittany and Sugar making silly faces while Mercedes sits behind them looking as unamused as ever with both of her middle fingers up.

It makes Santana chuckle before she goes to type her text.

Quinn notices and asks, “What’s so funny?”

“Just this picture Britt sent,” Santana shrugs as she types, “It’s kinda cute I guess.”

Quinn watches Santana’s smile grow and quirks her brow, “So…what is it about you and Brittany?”

Santana sends off the text and looks to Quinn questioningly, “What do you mean?”

“I see how you two interact with each other. Neither of you have changed any after all these years,” Quinn explains, “All of the planning and the scheming and the intricacy of it all…it’s like your foreplay or something.”

Santana feels her chest tighten and quickly turns away from Quinn to focus on starting the car. Here she goes again, sticking her nose job in places that she shouldn’t. Santana wished Quinn would just mind her business, but that wouldn’t really be Quinn now would it?

“That’s just how we are,” Santana brushes off as she begins to drive, “We like to have fun.”

“So that’s what you’re calling it?” Quinn smirks.

Santana rolls her eyes, “What else am I supposed to call it, Q?”

Quinn just shrugs and goes to look out the window. The silence doesn’t last long though.

“Fuck,” Santana snaps as they catch up to all the traffic, “We’re going to be here forever!”

Quinn chuckles at her dramatics. Since asking her question, they’ve sat in near silence the entire ride so Quinn jokingly asks, “Trapped in a car with me, isn’t that a dream come true for you?”

“You have no idea,” Santana answers sarcastically then lays on the horn as if it’ll make all the traffic suddenly disappear, “Let’s fucking go people!”

“Stop! What’s that going to do?” Quinn whines and starts swatting at Santana’s hand until she quits it. She gives her an annoyed glare which Santana returns instantly.

“We’re just going to have to wait it out,” Quinn says to which Santana lets out a long sigh. “Don’t be like that. This is good, we can finally catch-up. We haven’t really talked much since you broke into my garage.”

Santana softens at that. At one point in time, she and Quinn were pretty tight. Not in the way that she and Brittany are, but Quinn was around just as much. Also, there was the whole giving birth thing that Santana had to witness and that kind of thing creates a weird bond between people.

“Okay, what do you want to talk about?” Santana relents and puts the car in park since they aren’t moving anytime soon.

Quinn looks pleased with herself, like her mood has instantly lifted at the very idea of some girl talk.

Santana regrets agreeing to this the instant Quinn starts talking about Beth and how much she misses her daughter.

\\

 Later that night, Santana’s sitting alone at a diner across from the McCallister Security tower. She’s been sipping coffee while Mercedes and Sugar are off trying to infiltrate the building. They got word that an important meeting regarding the Met’s breach was going down and it was imperative that they listened in.

Right about now, Mercedes should be tapping the room and then on her way to meet Santana at the diner where they could catch all the hot gossip. It takes about ten more minutes of Santana waiting before Mercedes finally joins her.

“Where’s Sugar?” Santana questions as Mercedes pulls out the headphones.

“Went back to the loft already,” Mercedes answers and hands Santana an ear bud, “Said listening to a meeting was even worse than having to sit in one.”

Santana chuckled as she popped the earbud in, “Fair enough. Let’s see what we’re dealing with.”

\\

It’s late by the time Santana and Mercedes return to the loft and almost everyone has gone to bed, everyone but Brittany.

“You’re late,” She points out as Santana and Mercedes enter. Mercedes’ brows rise at the blonde’s tone and quickly disappears to her room without a word.

Santana just strolls over with a sweet smile on her lips, “You keeping tabs on me, Britt-Britt?”

Brittany shrugs, “Maybe. Maybe I kind of missed you? Between Emma’s weird muttering and the constant squeak of rubber gloves and Tina being annoying, it wasn’t much fun here.”

Santana laughs, “What about Quinn?”

“She’s getting into character for tomorrow. Whatever that means…”

“She has her interview with Vogue,” Santana explains as she shrugs out of her jacket, “Sorry you were lonely. Mercedes and I grabbed a bite while we listened to the meeting. She’s actually pretty cool. Oh! I brought you a cannoli. You like those, right?”

Brittany instantly perks up as Santana hands her a small box. She wastes no time in taking a bite and hums happily at the taste, “Thanks San. You bring home the best desserts.”

Santana feels a blush beginning to creep up her cheek, but she does her best to ignore it and takes a seat next to Britt on the couch.

“How’d it all go?” Brittany asks with her mouthful.

“We’re in! It was an interesting meeting but a long one,” Santana smiles proudly before it falls, “These late nights are starting to get to me.”

“That’s because you need to relax,” Brittany tells her before putting on her best flirty smile, “You know,  I can help with that. My offer still stands.”

Santana lets out a breathy chuckle, “Cute. I’ll keep that in mind, but I think I know something that might help me even more?”

“What is it?”

“Take the lead on the meeting tomorrow?”

“You giving up control on something?” Brittany fakes a gasp, “Maybe you really are losing steam.”

Santana just rolls her eyes, “You really gonna give me a hard time?”

“Sorry. Yes San,” Brittany nods seriously, “I can run the meeting for you.”

\\

And so she does.

The next day, Brittany gathers the team for an update on the McCallister Security meeting Santana and Mercedes listened in on last night and how that’ll effect what happens at the Met.

Mercedes has the overview of all the Met camera angles projected on the drop down screen while Brittany comes up to the group with a mug in her hand. She ends up handing it to Santana who is curled up the arm chair watching the various camera angles like it’s her favorite show.

“Here. Made this for you,” Brittany says softly as she hands Santana the mug, “It’s herbal. The packet said it’s supposed to help you relax or something.”

Santana takes the offered mug with a surprised smile, “Thanks Britt.”

“You’re welcome,” She winks before turning back to the team to get the meeting started, “Okay! So as you can see, the Met is covered in camera and security will be watching them like hawks. It’s almost impossible to get out of there without being spotted…let alone with a ridiculously expensive necklace at that.”

“Keyword there is almost,” Santana interjects before taking a sip of her tea because she can’t help herself.

“Right. We’re going for a spot security doesn’t even care about: the bathroom,” Upon its mention, Mercedes clicks to the angle, “But once we get going security is going to go over everything with a fine tooth comb, even angles like this. Whoever exits that is going to be a suspect. So what do we do?” Brittany asks and waits for someone to answer. When no one does, she continues, “We get a mule. Not an actual one like I thought, but a figurative one…sort of.”

The group all exchange somewhat confused looks so Santana cuts in, “Someone else is going to move the necklace for us.”

Brittany points to Santana, “Exactly.”

“Sugar, how much room do you need to plan something on someone?” Santana asks.

Sugar ponders a moment, “Like nine feet?”

Santana nods and looks to Mercedes, “And how long will it take to create a nine foot blind spot?”

“Maybe 10 or 12 days if I’m moving the camera bit by bit,” Mercedes responds.

Santana smiles proudly at their answers and looks to Brittany who’s already looking back at her with an equally pleased grin. She loves when things just come together like this.

“Sounds like a solid timeframe to me,” Santana says and turns back to the team, “What do you think?”

“Yeah, I can get to work on that now,” Mercedes replies and everyone else starts to shuffle about to continue their tasks.

“Wait!” Sugar stops them and raises her hand, “Question.”

Santana notes the hand in the air and laughs as she looks to Brittany, “Is she raising her hand right now?”

Brittany just shakes her head and laughs too.

“What is it, Sugar? I already told you I’m not paying for your Metro Card,” Santana says.

“It’s not that,” Sugar waves off as her hand drops to her lap, “I was just wondering…are you two like…a thing?

Santana looks slowly to Brittany.

“I was wondering that as well,” Emma adds, “You don’t really see one of them without the other.”

“Two peas in a pod!” Tina chimes in happily.

“Glad to see I’m not the only one that’s noticed these two fools making googly eyes at each other all the damn time,” Mercedes says next.

Santana catches Quinn’s eye and the blonde just smirks as she adds, “Didn’t I tell you that your subtly needs some work?”

Santana feels her face getting hot so she’s glad that the lights are still off for the projector because she’s sure everyone would see her as this blushing mess and that’s not a good look.

The team is all talking at once, giving their examples and theories, and it’s a lot. Santana doesn’t know how to deal and Brittany’s just kind of watching with her hand covering her mouth, hiding her smile. She thinks it’s all so hilarious and she loves how flustered and riled up Santana gets over the teasing.

The girl can dish it but struggles when it comes to taking it.

Suddenly Sugar has her hand up again and she’s speaking a little louder than everyone else, “Okay, raise your hand if you think Santana and Brittany are banging.”

Everyone raises their hand instantly, even Brittany.

“Oh my God, Britt, put your hand down,” Santana urges looking stressed.

Brittany does as she’s told as a couple giggles escape her.

Santana doesn’t think it’s quite as amusing though, “We aren’t banging. Who even calls it that anymore?”

“That explains everything,” Tina replies knowingly, “It’s probably why this heist is so immaculate, she’s gotta channel all that extra energy somewhere.”

“Preach,” Mercedes nods and goes to bump her fist with Tina.

It’s all playful – at least that’s what it was meant to be – but Santana hates feeling like the butt of a joke. She hates that her thing with Brittany is being analyzed by all these people she barely knows. People that shouldn’t be commenting on whatever goes on with them.

So she snaps and jumps to her feet to address the crowd.

“They’re immaculate because I’m a fucking genius and decided to use my time in solitary confinement wisely, so let’s just be careful here with trying to talk about things you know nothing about,” Santana threatens with her steely gaze, “Don’t forget. I’m a convicted criminal. I’ve been to jail and I will shank one of you if you happen to piss me off. So try me, I dare you.”

“Santana…” Brittany whispers and gives Santana’s arm a gentle tug, “They were just joking.”

“Well this isn’t fucking comedy hour, okay?” Santana growls and Brittany backs off as she turns to the group again, “You’re all here to do a job. Not speculate. There is nothing going on between Brittany and I – not that it’s any of your business – so let’s stay focused on the plan and do what we all came here to do. Get me?”

The group all nod in unison before heading back to their tasks.

Santana turns away from them and hits the lights. She’s still fuming and a little embarrassed but she instantly feels a whole lot better when she spots Brittany staring at her ass.

“That’s not helping,” Santana points out.

Brittany chuckles, “Maybe you should stop wearing those leather pants around me. You know they’re my favorite.”

“I thought you don’t pick favorites?” Santana asks with narrowed eyes.

Brittany lifts her shoulder casually, “Guess I make an exception when it comes to you.”

Santana’s heart skips a beat and it takes everything in her not to swoon. This is Brittany. This is how she talks to everyone. She’s charismatic and flirty and everything good in this miserable stinking world, but she can’t get wrapped up in all of that again.

It didn’t end well before and she doubts it’ll end well now.

[love-fireflysong]

Until Dawn’s Fifth Birthday

Welp, congrats Until Dawn, you’re officially old enough to start kindergarten. You’re off to learn to read, tie your shoes, recite yous ABC’s, and learn to count to 100. Your such a big kid now, and I’m proud of you for making it this far.

I know I have done literal jack shit for the entire month, but I have been immensely enjoying the things that everyone’s been putting out for this month. So I’m gonna make this text post, not just because of it’s the five year anniversary, but because it’s actually a post I’ve been wanting to make for a while.

So here it goes:

I first learned of Until Dawn when it first came out hilariously enough. My roommate at the time had boughten it for her ps4 and I had been seeing it all over my dashboard on tumblr at the time. I didn’t play it myself though until close to a year later, when I finally had my own ps4 and I bought the game used for like $20 or something from my local game rental store. And I was hooked.

I remember jumping the first time the UD logo pulls that jump scare on the title screen. And laughing because I’m normally pretty good with jump scares, but that one managed to get me because I hadn’t been expecting one before I even started the game. (The one thing in the game that manages to make me jump every time is the mine cart you stop as Mike. For whatever reason it doesn’t matter how dark my room is when I play the game or how many times I’ve played it, I can never see the mine cart until its literally on top of Mike and the QTE is almost up and I squeak in surprise every fucking time.)  

Of course I didn’t manage to save everyone during my first playthrough, I definitely lost Matt to the hook and Ash to the trapdoor (RIP darlings), and for the life of me I can’t recall how the lodge scene at the end went. I’m one of those players though that try to make choices that the characters I’m playing as would, I throw my feelings by the wayside. For example, being in the shed when the game’s making me choose Ash or Josh, and I was debating on whether or not Chris would save the girl he’s had a major crush on for a while at least, or his best friend for the last ten years. I distinctly remember wincing and sucking in air through my teeth and going “Sorry Ash, bros before hoes” and choosing Josh. And then being confused and convinced that I misunderstood the instructions? I mean I wasn’t complaining, just really, really confused. I definitely choose Ash to live at the gun one though, like there was no hesitation. I watched the whole ‘only thing I’ve ever wanted to do with my time’ scene and talk and the moment control was given back to me, the gun was under Chris’s jaw and I fired.

I’m also one of the players that didn’t know that Josh had been behind everything until the reveal either. I had gotten Sam captured so I never got any of those clues and I managed to miss the other clues that hinted at it being a set up (like the bundle of newspapers). So until the reveal I was still convinced that someone was out there killing all of them. Listen, I like mystery games but I’m not very good at connecting the dots okay.

I think I stuck around for a couple of months, gorging myself of fanfiction (all ff.net stuff by the way, I can’t remember if I knew about ao3 at that point or not) but like all interests do with me, the obsession eventually faded (helped in a large part by the rampant Ashley hate going around at the time) and I moved on.

Until February of this year. I was trying to kill time till the end of March when Persona 5: Royal released and I decided to try and see how many games I could platinum until that point. I had made it through the ps3 tomb raider games, Prince of Persia 2008, and decided on replaying the Uncharted games because the ps4 collection didn’t have multiplayer trophies. I hadn’t even thought of replaying Until Dawn. I mean, I had looked at the case and I remembered the game fondly, but that was it. There was no urge or want. 

I was halfway through Among Thieves when I was bored and chilling time on Youtube. And because I had been watching a couple of videos for the treasure locations in Uncharted, one of the recommended videos for me was a game sins for the series. I decided sure why not, and watched it. And watched a few of his other ones as well, Until Dawn included.

That’s right, what got me back into the series wasn’t fond nostalgia for the characters or story. It was a fucking Game Sins video. I’m so sorry.

I was devouring UD content again. I spent like 2 or 3 weeks reading everything Chrashley (with the hyper-fixation for the game back came the ship, what can I say) based on ao3 that I could get my hands on. I was back into the tag on tumblr, going through art I remembered seeing way back when and looking at usernames that didn’t mean a thing then, but mean the world to me now. And then near the end of February, when the obsession was once again starting to flag, I decided to hell with it, and clicked on the The (Almost)s.

I’m not going to expunge all my praises for the story, everyone else has done that better then I ever could. But guys, it was so good. So so good. I was hooked back into the series once again, just as I was starting to flag. And when I saw that @queenofbaws had mentioned that she was tumblr... I didn’t do anything right away. Too scared really, figured she might find it creepy, so I didn’t do anything for like a week. And then I decided fuck it, sent a message about Chris giving Ash his sweater, and following her.

And that was it. I figured I would stick around to see the story completed and just dip. Not even make a splash, just enjoy the content from the sidelines and no one would know that I was here in the first place. Same old, same old. But that was also when I started turning around the kernel in my mind that Baby It’s Cold Outside (so hold me tight in your arms and don’t let go). I didn’t even intend to write it, it was just going to be the fanfic that lived in my mind for me to stew on before bed every night. But I couldn’t sleep one night, my brain was too on and the words just weren’t stopping, so I pulled out my computer and wrote the first part from Chris standing in the snow outside to him reaching the lodge at like 3 in the morning. 

I started becoming more involved in the fandom when queenie started her wip wednesdays and asked to be tagged. Hilariously enough, those days are what started me cross-stitching again too, I hadn’t touched the pattern in months at that point. So I started posting snippets of my writing, and that one day a week was the only thing pushing me to continue writing. By that point, I had stopped hanging around the edges, now trying to push myself closer into this little fandom circle. 

The day I posted the story, I was fucking terrified. It wasn’t my first story, not by a long shot, but I had always considered my writing to be shit. I thought I had good ideas, but I never felt that I was able to truly bring them to life. English and grammar had never been my best subject, I was always more of a math and physics person growing up. But then that first comment from @elliepollie came in and I almost burst into tears. I couldn’t believe that someone out there liked it so much, that they were willing to leave me a review in the first place. I’m still so blown away that she was willing to recommend it as a Chrashley story for other people to read. I think that was the point I stopped hesitantly pushing my way through, and I just kicked down the doors and just yelled ‘Hey fuckers! I’m here now and you are going to fucking deal with it!’.

That was the event that opened the floodgates for me. Suddenly I was talking to people, I had friends online with the same interests as me. I’ve written more in the last six months then I’ve done in the last ten years! I’m feeling inspired to create again. I actually went out to do the first commission I’ve ever requested (speaking of which, please please please go commisson @fudgeroach. I cannot wait until he can post and show you guys the stuff he drew for me. It was worth every fucking penny let me tell you.)

I’m going to be honest, Until Dawn isn’t my favourite game. Sure it has some of my fav lines (it had been years since I played the game, and the moment Jess started her rant outside the guest cabin I was screaming it along with her) and great characters, as horrible people as they all are, but it’s never been my favourite game and likely never will be. But Until Dawn has the best fandom I’ve ever been in and I’m so, so happy to have met and known every single person here. I seriously love every single person here so, so much. You all make my life better and I’m so happy to have all of you in it. Just to quote Chris because I can: “Every second I spend with you is all I ever wanted to do with my time.” This is how I feel. This is how I feel every goddamn day now.

So yeah, I got back into this fandom from a stupid Game Sins video. But by god if it wasn’t the best choice I’ve ever made.

(PS: for those wondering, I never did finish Uncharted 2. Maybe one day...) 

[the-hidden-writer]

An Odd Family Tree

A series of snippets from the lives of the FitzSimmons family, set post 7x13. Also, the series of events that leads up to the birth of their grandson.

Available to read on AO3 and FF.net.

Comments make my day!

Chapter 5: Permission

Leo Fitz loved football. It was his thing. He used to play in the local field with a bunch of other boys when he was little- that’s before he started to spend every free hour of every day engineering. So about eleven years old then. And since they’d retired he’d taken a huge step back from engineering and fallen back with his first love. Seriously, if anyone asked him a simple question about football he would probably ramble about it for at least two hours.

“Knock knock!”

Oh, and another thing about football: he did not like getting interrupted.

He adjusted his position to sit up on the sofa. “If that’s anyone that’s not called Owen then come in!”

Of course, it was Owen who entered.

“Hi Mr Fitz-Simmons.” He greeted, somewhat meekly.

Fitz didn’t respond.

“Oh hey, you’re watching soccer. Can I join you?”

“Not if you call it soccer.” Fitz grumbled. Owen just laughed and sat next to him anyway.

If there was one thing that Fitz had learnt about Owen over the year of him dating Alya, it was that he could not shut up. And that was not an exaggeration. Fitz was pretty convinced that if the man went five minutes without saying something then he would quite possibly explode.

So it was unnerving to say the least when all he did was fidget next to him. He appeared to be concentrating on the screen, but when Fitz looked closely he could see that his eyes weren’t entirely focused.

He must’ve been deep in thought. Fitz didn’t even want to consider what the hell he was thinking about.

“So… you a big s- football guy then?” Owen asked eventually, making Fitz actually sigh in relief.

“Yes.” Was his short reply.

“Cool.”

Uncomfortable silence. Fitz felt like the other man was plotting something. He did not like it.

Owen took a deep breath. “Hey-”

“You do know I don’t like you, right?”

Letting out a choked sort of laugh, Owen hung his head and said quietly: “Really? I hadn’t noticed.”

“You’ve got no common sense,” Fitz continued, “and half the time I genuinely can’t tell if you’re faking your stupidity or not.

And I can never forgive you for taking my daughter away from me, Fitz doesn’t add.

“Look, I know you hate me.” Owen said, his voice still strangely quieter than usual.

It suddenly occurred to Fitz that Owen might be unwell. And even he, a cold-hearted miser according to Alya once, would feel guilty for insulting someone when they’re ill.

“Hate’s a strong word.” He told him. “I don’t hate you lad, but I think it would be crueler to lie and pretend to like you like Jemma does.”

Owen seemed to react at this, and Fitz wondered if he was really so dumb as to not realise that Jemma didn’t like him either.

“She doesn’t?” He asked, confirming Fitz’s theory.

And there was that guilty feeling again. “Well she definitely likes you more than I do. We love Alya with everything we have, and we only want the best for her. And whatever she says, I for one couldn’t care less if my daughter doesn’t end up with you. Now don’t you have somewhere better to be?”

Fitz realised a little too late that he’d phrased that wrong, and for once he actually hoped that Owen wouldn’t pick up on the subtext.

“I love her too, y’know.” Owen said dejectedly. “And I came here to ask you something. But I’m a little put off now if I’m honest…”

On-screen, it was half-time. Fitz tried to relay the fact that Owen was ill over and over in his head to stop himself from punching him.

“If answering your question will make you go away, then sure. Ask away.” He said, taking a sip of his tea.

Owen took a deep breath and looked Fitz in the eyes. Fitz noticed for the first time just how bright, green, and honest they were.

“Will you give me your blessing to marry your daughter?”

He did not do a spit take. That never happened. But it was funny, for a second Fitz could have sworn Owen just said…

“What?”

“You heard me.” Owen said, and suddenly Fitz realised why Owen had sounded off.

He’d been nervous- no, terrified of him. This entire time he’d been trying to muster as much confidence as he could. And the fact that he’d been scared meant that he respected him.

And Fitz didn’t know how to feel. He felt like he’d just been shot in the heart but the pain hadn’t registered yet.

He coughed. “W-Well, you’ve got nerve, I’ll tell you that.” He did not wipe the liquid off his chin, because he did not do a spit take. “After I just told you how much I don’t like you.”

Owen laughed, a bit more menacing this time. “I hope you know that I’ll propose to her whatever you say. It’s just that you three are so close that I thought I’d ask for your blessing.”

The implications started to sink in. “Wait, you’re being serious?”

This man, this hooligan, was asking to marry his little monkey. His princess. His universe. His Alya. The girl whose nappies he changed. The girl to whom he showed the stars. The girl who he tried to teach engineering to, but ended up taking after her mother and studying biology and becoming one of the leading experts in marine biology and was running an entire initiative to save the oceans.

The woman that had just turned thirty.

Ever since Owen, Alya had fought with him a lot more frequently. She would always defend him, telling her father that it was his fault that he didn’t just give him a chance to get to know him. Fitz didn’t change his stance. And maybe, Fitz thought, if he’d taken that chance, then he would be able to see Alya’s appeal in Owen. Her love for him hadn’t wavered, and any fights she’d had with Owen had all been resolved very quickly. Was it really only Fitz that felt so negatively towards him?

“Hey, um, before you answer let me say something.” Owen said.

“I know I’m reckless and stupid. I get that from my parents. But when I’m standing next to literally the smartest family on the planet, how can I not be? I think you think I’m ‘the worst’ (yes, I heard that) because of that, when in reality I’m just average. I was shocked when Alya loved me back, because she is the definition of a genius, and I’m just… me. I’m Owen. The guy nobody likes.”

Fitz listened on in silence, every word striking him as familiar.

...Deke.

“And I tried so hard to impress you,” Owen continued, “even though you guys already know everything. It’s impossible to impress you. The one thing that impresses me is the fact that Alya still likes me after so long. So yeah, I understand if you say no, but I love your daughter and I’m actually pretty good at fighting so I’m willing to die for her. I’ve been told that I can be pretty selfish, and I agree, but not when it comes to Alya. She’s my everything.”

Wordlessly, Fitz switched off the TV. Football could come later. He didn’t know when his eyes had started to well up, but he knew that his vision was now blurry. He had to swallow the lump in his throat.

“You have my blessing.”

Owen nearly jumped out of his seat. “Wait, really?!”

Fitz’s breathing was shaky, and he held his head in his hands. “Yes.” He said, his voice muffled. “Now go before I change my mind.”

It was comical how quickly Owen raced out of the room.

Jemma walked in moments later.

“Darling what’s wrong? What did you say to Owen this time?”

“I told him to bugger off.” Fitz said, looking up to face his confused wife.

“Really? Is that-”

“Jemma.” He interrupted, his voice breaking. “He asked for my blessing.”

Jemma’s face went through a whirlwind of emotions in a tiny amount of time like a silent movie.

“O-Oh.” She said finally. “Did you..?”

“Yeah.” Said Fitz. “But Jemma, he sounded just like Deke.”

Both of them flinched at the name.

He sighed. “Is it bad that the main thing I remember was that I couldn’t stand him?”

“Yes, it is.” Jemma said, moving to sit next to her husband and rub his back soothingly. She was beginning to get choked up herself. “I remember that he was lovely. His memory is what lets me tolerate Owen.”

She wiped away the tears that threatened to fall from his eyes.

“I think you need to start at least tolerating him now, too.”

Fitz did the same for his wife.

“Yeah, I guess I’m gonna have to now.”

[smileytiger28]

memory loss ficlist

sup i have loved memory loss stories since i was a wee child and now that ao3 exists i can just read them all day instead of doing work anyway here’s some of my favorites (list definitely subject to change)

s*pernatural

no place to go (4685 words) by peterspajamas

Summary:

It's Tuesday. Again.

Sam watches his world fall apart, into a pattern that only Castiel can break. But Castiel doesn't remember.

Sam prays for help after his brother is stuck in a time loop after Jack becomes God. There are two important things about the angel that arrives to help them: 1. It's Castiel 2. He doesn't remember a thing

my thots

mostly a tuesday time-loop type fic (sam!), but there is definitely some memory loss going on (cas!)

Gone (51108 words) by reading (reposted from ff.net)

Summary:

Dean thinks Sam is dead. Sam has amnesia.

So, this is set pre-deal, sometime in season 2. Strangers and Angels 'verse.

my notes

this fic is legendary. so good in every way. hurt-comfort, memory loss (sam!), angst both before and after memories are regained...hits all my buttons.

When Memory Fails (3646 words) by palpablenotion

Summary:

He's in a hotel room with fake IDs, fake (or stolen) credit cards, guns and knives, lighter fluid and a lighter that's been in a fire hot enough to scorch metal, and he doesn't know who he is.

my thoughts

actually found this fic when looking for some other fics for this list...turned out really good. dean's memory gets roblox oofed and the situation gets cleaned up in a short, sweet, and funny way.

Yellow highway lines (28292 words) by livinginthequestion

Summary:

Weeks had gone by since Michael reneged on his pledge and took possession of Dean permanently; since he’d begun waging his war against humanity and the earth, killing without remorse or restriction; since Dean had, through sheer strength of will, slammed the door on the archangel in his mind. He was still holding that door shut, but growing ever more desperate, to the point that he seriously considered the Ma’lak Box as the only solution available to him.

What if Cas did some research - and came up with an alternative to the Ma’lak Box, a ritual to eject Michael from Dean’s mind? Spellwork so powerful it ripped the archangel loose with the force of a heavenly cataclysm, destroying him in the process - and leaving behind terrible consequences for Dean?

Follow Cas and Sam's desperate cross-country search for Dean, and Dean's journey to find himself, his memories - and maybe find out what he really wants.

my thoughts

goodness me is this one really good. it kinda parallels Gone in that whole "winchester brother makes new life using his skills without his memory" vibe but this plays out a bit differently. this fic. i just want to bathe in it like a jacuzzi.

mcu

How Could I Forget You? (3013 words) by inkinmyheartandonthepage

Summary:

Tony knows that this kid is important somehow, knows deep in his heart that the kid is special. He just can’t remember who he is.

my thoughts

tony loses his memory from some good ol' head trauma. irondad and spiderson angst ensues. memory is not restored by the end (but it is implied that tony's memory will return a few days after the fic is set.)

Take Control (13966 words) by theunremarkable

Summary:

You are No One

I am Bucky. I know this You are Bucky He knows this

~

But Bucky does not know, that it has been a year. He does not know that it has been a year of the same conversation. He does not know that it has been a year of the same tears from Peggy. He does not know that when he sleeps, he forgets. Bucky does not know that when he wakes, he will again be No One.

my thoughts

one of those great fics that toes the line between poetry and prose. also a songfic ("take control" by kodaline), and the song is really darn good. keep in mind this is part 2 of a series that canon diverges so the timeline is a bit wonky.

Act of Sage (64315 words) by hotelmichelle

Summary:

After the Battle of New York, Steve finds a strange note in his apartment. It’s his handwriting, but he sure as hell would’ve remembered writing this.

my thoughts

this post-endgame-2012-timeline stucky fix-it is a textbook example of what happens when a fic starts out not as strong, but finds its voice and approaches its issues uniquely. the beginning isn't really my taste buuuuut at a certain point the fic definitely takes its own unique spin on things. and it's. so good. there's an oc who's a trauma therapist who works with an amnesiac/traumatized bucky barnes. she's just. the greatest, most intelligent, awesomest, most badass human being. also there's a lot of law terminology for bucky's legal trial. (i think the author was in law school while writing this?)

trials and tribulations of the universes saviour (34287 words) by imeanthatsprettysnazzy

Summary:

The thoughts kept racing through his head, them helping block out the continued, strangled begging coming from Mister Stark, along with the pain, as he stared Thanos right in the eyes.

“And I..” He spoke loudly, though he could still barely hear himself. “Don’t... Care...”

Peter brought his fingers together, and snapped.

OR

An alternate version of Endgame where Peter snaps (but survives).

This is a continuation of The Brother She Wished That She Knew, but it can be read alone if you want :)

(Used to be called When Fate Turns In A Different Direction but that was even cornier than this so I changed it)

my thoughts

the memory loss is like 1 chapter of this but it's really well-executed (and also i'm trying to list as many mcu fics as spn fics and it's surprisingly hard. MUST I REITERATE I HAVENT WATCHED 1 EP OF SPN jaklsdfjflk). what it says on the tin, also part of a series featuring a lot of peter's mom may parker. humor, angst, whump, a badass prosthesis and an awesome found family — this fic has everything you could ever want and more.

Bonus non-MCU marvel fic: If It Comes Back (10823 words) by flightinflame

Summary:

Logan turns his back on the school, setting out as a lone wolf. Until he meets a young man in need of help - a young man who looks painfully familiar.

my thoughts

if you want to leave the "mystery person" a surprise you should probably skip the tags (and the rest of this summary.) basically it's post x3, logan is sad, and picks up a mystery hitchhiker. it's the first (and as of now, only) scogan fic i've ever read and definitely a great introduction to the ship. also Person X and logan both get a liberal dollop of angst (hooray!)

[josiecarioca]

Officially on hiatus

So, guys...I´ll be going away for a while. I don´t know how long. 

Dealing with my grief has become increasingly difficult in the past few days. Writing was a coping mechanism, but being harrassed for the things I write is doing the opposite of helping. Getting anywhere between 60 to a 100 harrassing messages every other day over the course of nearly four weeks isn´t helping. Having more  hate messages than actual reviews on my ff.net page isn´t helping. AO3 has been fantastic in dealing with the situation, but everytime they ban a profile a new one is made by the very same person. I´ve reported four different profiles by now, and every other day I have to manually delete dozens of comments from the same person calling me names, and saying all sort of disgusting things over and over again.

I thought I was fine, and for a little while I actually was. It was actually funny when it started. But right now I´m not fine. The anniversary of my mother´s death is coming up. I had been dealing with anxiety and depression well before her passing, her diagnosis and the stress her disease put on our family made it worse, and it´s been a battle to try and avoid sinking deeper and deeper back into it once she did pass away.  I was actually doing ok for a few months. But now I´m not. 

 And the last thing I want is to have somebody sending me hateful message after hateful message while I´m trying to process my grief and not relapse into depression and suicidal thoughts. The last thing I want is to see drawings I worked on for hours be defaced and reposted with disgusting, hateful, racist and vulgar name-calling plastered all over them. The last thing I want is to have some of the few positive coping mechanisms I have turned into a weapon against me for no reason other than somebody out there thinks they can.

I just want to be left alone. To be left in peace. 

This is the first time I seriously considered just ending “Post War”. Just killing it. Deleting all of it. All 61 chapters and 336,399 words of it, along with all the one-shots, all the fanarts, gifs and moodboards. All the YEARS of work I´ve put into it. 

But I don´t want to. 

So I´m stepping back for a while. I don´t know how long. I just need a break. I need to find something to do with my free time and a way to process my emotions that can´t be turned against be by some random lunatic online, somewhere in the world I don´t even know.

If anybody wants to read or continue reading “Post War” , please go to my AO3 page. https://archiveofourown.org/users/JosieCarioca I have abandoned my fanfiction.net profile (there´s over 200 hate messages on it that ff.net has done nothing about. It´s ruined.). If you want to look at my fanarts, they´re here in this blog. I hope I can continue eventually.

I´ll see you guys whenever.

[starspatter]

Heroes and Thieves, Ch. 13

Title: Heroes and Thieves Fandom/Universe: BTAS, pre/post-RotJ flashback

Summary: A story about second chances, healing, and having hope.

Rating: PG-13, for references to character death, child psychological torture and trauma.

Genre: Romance/Family/Friendship/Hurt/Comfort

Word Count: 2,260 Previous Chapters: 1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6, 7, 8, 9, 10, 11, 12

Also on ff.net and AO3. In which Tim isn’t Jason.

A long long time ago, in a tragedy If ever comes a day that I go away In a forest deep, you'll sink like a stone From that moment on, you'll go alone

For we are two of a kind; when we walk, we are one The sound of lies being told disappear like the sun And now we both bow our heads; only a single shadow Didn't you know that I'm also going alone?

-Fullkawa Honpo, "Alice"

————————–

Now.

Alfred had been in the midst of pouring himself a calming cup of tea in the parlor when he heard the doorbell ring, followed by loud banging on the outside.  He set the pot down and strode with as much steady grace as he could muster to the portentous sound coming from the porte.  Opening it, he came face to face with his former young charge, now grown older and grimmer in appearance compared to the foregone past.  …That seemed like only yesterday, yet at the same time so long ago.  When he’d wear a wide grin as he dashed straight into the manor upon coming home from school, eager to tell all about his day over a plate of snacks that would already be laid out and waiting for him; tossing coat and bag carelessly to the side, where Alfred would quietly pick them up and hang them in proper order. He’d shake his head, but smile and say nothing in light of the boy’s brimming energy and excitement as he waved to the butler in thanks, before charging up to cheerfully greet an ever expectant Bruce, vaulting heedlessly over any furniture on the way in vaunting display.

“Why, Master Timothy, what a… pleasant surprise.  How good to see you.”

“Sorry, Alfred,” Tim interjected briskly.  “I don’t have time to chat.  …They’re down there, aren’t they?”

“‘They’, sir?”

Tim’s eyes darkened dangerously.

“Cut the act, Alfred. You know who I’m talking about.”

Alfred sighed, standing aside to let the young man in.

“Master Bruce arrived back shortly ago with a young lady through the… ‘other entrance’.  They are at present where you’d suspect.”

Tim immediately brushed by without another word, breezing brazenly through the halls in a burning haste towards the study, where he stopped before an old grandfather clock.  He hesitated a moment as his hand tremblingly reached out, taking a deep breath before pulling on the pendulum to slide the access open, shouting an angry warning into its depths.  Foreboding darkness and blue cavern walls stretched before him as he descended down the familiar staircase for the first time in forever, feeling the sudden drop in temperature from subterranean chill.  When he reached the bottom, he arrested at the sight of his (second) worst nightmare come to life, freezing another few degrees.  …He was too late.

Seething, rage flooded his face as he flew at the culprit in fury, and for a second all he saw was pulsing red and bursts of black – erupting flashbacks – as he heatedly yelled at what was once his must trusted companion.  How could he?  The sheer nerve. He had given everything for him, and now he had betrayed his secrets – taken whatever little independence – or semblance of it – he had left.  Destroyed any remaining faith in his “father” by proving himself a fake and a liar, exposing sins of the “son” without even so much as consulting said subject. Insulting his pride and privacy in the worst way imaginable.

It took Steph’s worried voice and shaking to snap him out of it, and his mortification magnified as he wondered what she must think of him now.  He couldn’t even stand to look her in the eye, afraid to confront the same expression one would surely exhibit at a freak show.  Stabilizing, he stalled by requesting her to wait for him above ground. …Whether she actually would was a different story, but he didn’t really want to consider that possibility right now.

As he observed her cloaked backside heading up the steps, his vision traveled to the row of costumes beside, locked away in clear cases like inmates in their cells at Arkham.  He approached the smallest one in scarlet and put his palm on the mirrored glass, mimicking the exact same motion he made so many years ago the first time he laid shining, hopeful eyes on it, now staring dully at his own tired reflection.  In front of the mask instead of behind.

“So this is what you did with it,” he muttered, somehow unsurprised.  “You should’ve just burned it.  Like those tapes.”  Bitterness wedged in his tone as he glimpsed down the aisle at Batgirl’s and Nightwing’s dead, shed skins as well.  “…Or is that all we ever were to you?  More trophies to add to your collection?”

Batman simply stated:

“It’s there as a reminder.”

Tim nodded.  Deep down, he had known the answer already, but still he just wanted to make sure.  He needed to hear it said – out loud.

Rotating slowly back, he returned his gaze to his ex-guardian’s own guise, studying the apparent lack of revealing emotion.

“Bruce.  Take that off.  I want you to look at me.”

Batman remained unmoving for a beat, but acquiesced.

As the façade fell away, Tim could see the old man looked even older than he remembered, wrinkles and peppered gray starting to show.  Maybe far older than he should be.  …Than either of them should.

He fixed those cold, steel blue irises with a firm deadlock.

“Promise me you’ll never take on another Robin.”

“That I can assure.”

Tim surveyed the seriousness in the other’s countenance, accepting agreement on that front at least. He revolved to regard the rest of the room, a place filled with so many overwhelming memories he didn’t even know where to start.  (Though he deliberately avoided looking at the giant Joker card hanging directly above; why Bruce still bothered to keep that up was beyond him.)

“The last time I was down here… was the night you brought me back from Arkham.”  He swallowed, recollecting little about that time other than brief spots of awareness to his surroundings, and dimly hearing echoes of concerned voices that weren’t the Joker’s laugh or Harley’s high-pitched shrill, as his body was still in shock after everything.  …Or maybe he had just blocked it all out.  (Perhaps just as well, if he could’ve seen the pale looks of pure, panicked horror on their hovering visages, that very nearly matched his own.) “It hasn’t changed much, has it? New tech, new trophies…  But still the same dreary atmosphere.”

He ran his hand along a railing as he moved over towards the training equipment, recalling how he used to spend so much time balancing on it, performing handstands to help keep blood and thoughts flowing (and limbs from getting bored stiff) while they casually discussed more difficult cases – with Batgirl and Nightwing as well when he stopped by to assist in cracking particularly tough ones (or just to hang out and spar a bit with his lil bro) – brainstorming together as a team by combining their collective detective skills.  Barbara tended to pace as she pondered, while Dick would smirk and lean back in his chair with muscles lax behind his neck and feet propped up on the terminal, teasing that she looked like a lumbering red gorilla when she does that, and she’d snap back that he was being no help (and besides what was he even doing there didn’t he have his own place now maybe he should go fight crime with Catwoman if he’s so smart), and Bruce would irritably bark at them all over the two’s bickering (and Tim’s smothered snickering) to stay focused on task, only to be interrupted by Alfred as he came down to serve some food, insisting they all stay vitalized if they hope to make any progress.

Tim crossed over to the target range – past the medical bay, where Batman had interrogated him once after he’d been caught sneaking around (and stealing from) upstairs right after their initial meeting, whereupon he learned of Bruce Wayne’s secret identity.

“So what?  I know how to keep a secret.  You can trust me.”

He picked up a Batarang from the table.  It looked like a newer model than the ones he was used to; lighter, sleeker, circular, with bits of red on the edges of the winged blades.  He took careful aim at a stalactite, attempting to adjust to its weight, but the persistent tremors and twitches in his fingers wouldn’t cease, no matter how hard he endeavored to suppress.  Gritting his teeth, he shut one eye and let the wild projectile fly, but it only veered far off course, bouncing harmlessly off the back wall to drop down into the river below with a weak splash.  Shoving hands shamefully in his pockets and peering down into the chasm, Tim reflected on how he had stood here once, lifting his arms in breathtaking glory as he basked in his ultimate childhood fantasy, beholding the bedrock and bats, wistfully absorbing the beauty of it all.

“If you knew how many times I’d dreamed about this place.”

He kicked a stone into the ravine.

Bruce was watching him the whole time in silence.  Tim turned back and addressed gloomily.

“You know, I was always doing dumb stuff to try and impress you.  Draw your attention, get you to notice me.  Make you proud.  All I ever wanted was to be just like you when I grew up.”  He paused, taking in the pathetic, penitent image of his prior idol – now weary and weathered, clearly worn down by age and the endlessly waging war he still kept stubbornly fighting on his own, come hell or high water.  “I used to think you were the greatest man alive.  …You’re still the greatest man I ever met, Bruce. But this-” he gestured vaguely at the empty expanse, “-what you do – what you had us do – it can’t be called ‘living’.  …I realize that now.”

The other only grunted, questioning gruffly:

“What’s your point?”

Tim gave him an almost-pitying glance.

“Bruce, I forgive you – for not saving me.  But when are you – for once – going to try and save yourself?”

Bruce blinked back at him, blankly.  Tim bit his lip as he tried to explain.

“I didn’t leave – just because I couldn’t be Robin anymore.  I was mad at first, that you would take all of that away from me.  …But I understood why.  The real reason I left – is because I couldn’t stand the way you looked at me afterwards.  Like I was your greatest failure, as if you regretted ever picking me up off the streets and taking me into your home in the first place. I couldn’t take it anymore.”

He inhaled.

“Even then, I would’ve stayed – if you’d only asked me to.  Admitted – for once in your sorry life – that you still need someone in it.”

His fists balled in frustration.

“But you never could admit that, could you?  I get it: Ever since your parents died, you’ve had trouble expressing yourself.  You blame yourself for what happened, every single bad thing that’s come your way since then. That’s why you keep all this old junk around, just like their pictures everywhere upstairs.  So you won’t forget that it’s all your fault, that you’ve hurt everyone you’ve ever come in contact with, isn’t that right?”

Bruce said nothing, but his eyes narrowed slightly.

“So you end up pushing people away, until you’re finally all by yourself.  Because you believe it’s for the best.  You think you deserve to be alone, when it…”  He gulped, sensing the hypocritical stab in his own gut. “…Isn’t true.”

Tim took a tentative step forward, trying to close some distance, bridge the extensive gap between them – that almost seemed like an eternity at this point – but simultaneously struggling to find words and will for it.

“Bruce, I’d like us – to still be friends.  …But if this is how it’s going to be between us – if I can’t even trust you to keep my secret, not to ruin the one good thing I’ve had since then – then I can’t be around you anymore.”

He cast one last nostalgic look around at what he used to call “home”, etching the sentimental scene into his brain.  His safe “haven”, where he could always count on his “family” being there for him.   …Not a sanctuary, he recognized fully now, but a prison.  Built for one solitary soul, never meant to share in the first place. A private “Plan” others weren’t originally supposed to be part of, no matter how much the architect desired it deep down.  Who broke that vow more than once in an effort to better someone else’s life, only to be burned so badly (and vice-versa) that both parties feared forming close connections again as a result.  To care that much for someone, only to eventually receive bitter disappointment in the end – if not the other way around.

Yet, despite all odds, Tim had found a flicker of hope in another’s company.  Comfort.  Courage.  And he- wanted to keep striving towards it.  He didn’t want to end up like him.  Like this.  So lonely and isolated from the entire world.  Even through all the hate and hurt, he didn’t wish for this kind of bleak future, a mere hollow existence – for either of them.  …But this was as far as he could confess it.  He couldn’t keep coaxing, chasing constantly after remote coattails and infinite comets, straining so desperately to catch and ride on them anymore; he needed to be met halfway.  It was up to the opposite side, ball in the other’s court now.

“When you’re ready to come out of the cave and be a person again, let me know.  I’ll be waiting.”

With that, he walked past the mute shadow to the stairs and up the ascent, never looking back. Denying darkness for the light.

“Goodbye, Bruce.”

————————–

And I am one of a kind; when I walk, I am alone I've grown weary of lying to the bone Now I bow my head in this golden room I was here with you, and now, it's gone too soon

In a forest deep, I sank and I knew I'm a charred and dirty, forsaken fruit And that is the end - there's nothing more to recount From this moment on, you'll go alone

[missfaber]

author interview

I was tagged by @orangeflavoryawp, thank you so much! 

I already know I’m going to enjoy this way too much, writing is such a lonely endeavor and I just love talking about it, sooo... I apologize in advance for rambling. 

name: Madeline/Maddie 

fandoms: this is complicated because there’s fandoms I very much consider myself a part of because they’re just a huge part of my life, even though I don’t contribute content to them, and then there’s fandoms I do create content for. So idk where the line is drawn! 

fandoms I contribute/ have contributed to: Avatar the Last Airbender, Game of Thrones, Merlin BBC, Once Upon a Time, Legend of Korra

fandoms I haven’t contributed to but are so dear to me: Harry Potter, Lord of the Rings (my two favorite things ironically lol), and lots more 

where you post: AO3, used to be ff.net and livejournal too

most popular one shot: by kudos, it’s as if death itself was undone (zutara, atla: katara wakes up to azula in their house and wants to find out a) why she is welcome b) why zuko is acting so weird) 

most popular multichapter: by kudos, it’s soldier, go bravely on (jonsa + gendrya, got, complete, rewrite of the last episode of got with sweetness and angst and action, and may i say some common sense?)

favorite story you wrote: fuck omg this is difficult lol! because I both criticize and love all my stories in equal measure, I honestly don’t write anything that i don’t love, that doesn’t give me butterflies / actual chest pain (from angst). I feel like I’m being asked to choose a favorite child lol. so I’ll try to justify these picks somehow... 

closest to my heart: soldier, go bravely on (also mentioned above). this is the fic that brought me back to writing fic, and to tumblr even! I was on hiatus (that I didn’t know was a hiatus because I had no intention of coming back) for six years before writing this fic. I wrote it so quickly after the got finale, it was such a passionate and fevered few days and it just sucked me back in to everything I used to love as a teenager. It was also a nice stretch out of my comfort zone, because of the dialogue (which was so tightly planned it’s ridiculous, I wrote the whole fic as a screenplay type thing first to make sure there wasn’t a single dialogue word not needed) and tv-episode style. It’s also such a wish-fulfillment fic that I can’t read certain parts without getting a bit teary. for all those reasons and more, this fic will always be so special to me. 

most proud of: wolf, circle north (jonsa, got, alternate season 7 & 8). this is the longest fic I’ve ever attempted and the number I’ve hours I’ve sunk into it is astounding and i should be ashamed.  It’s going to be obscenely long (my outline is 70+ chapters) and when I pull it off, best believe it’s going into a bound book so I can look at how thicc it is and be like, “I did that!” lol. The range of POVs is one of the most challenging but most rewarding part of this fic, and why I’m so proud of it. This is another wish-fulfillment fic for me, not just because it’s another fix-it fic but because I have been writing bits and pieces of this fic for about three years. I kept thinking of jonsa scenarios and little scenes I would have loved to see after season 6 and writing them in a little secret doc, just for me, as I never thought I’d write fic again. After writing “soldier” i had already broken my hiatus and I realized this fic was an actual possibility, so I put it out into the world. I couldn’t be more happy that I did that. Not only did it give me the chance to be in such an excellent, lovely fandom, but the feedback I get is so validating after having this be my secret little project for so long.  

most formative: Coffee & Cigarettes, (merthur, merlin bbc) I’m ashamed to list this and the merthurs reading this 100% want to kill me for having the audacity because it’s incomplete and hasn’t been updated since 2013 when there’s only one chapter left so what’s my excuse?  I call this the most formative for me because until I published this I didn’t really have a fic that people followed and liked, eagerly awaited updates for, and commented regularly on. I was writing a lot of one-shots and atla stuff on tumblr (I used to RP lmao I was like 15 ok?) This was the first time I experienced so many fic-life things, like being excited to get AO3 emails, etc. This was the first time I started to really focus on character which is so important to me now, my writing is completely character driven. Not to mention Merlin and Arthur’s dumbassery and sheer attraction and denial is just... *chef’s kiss* 

guiltiest pleasure: my recent foray into nedsei, who am I??? one more word and you won’t survive, just international hate sex

story you were most nervous to post: ummm idk I’m usually excited not nervous, since for me fic writing is just fun, I write things I’d enjoy reading and that I’m proud of. I read my own fics more than anyone else does, I guarantee it. am I a narcissist? who knows I guess I’ll say “soldier” again because I hadn’t posted fic in six years.

how you choose your titles: wow the hardest part of fic writing for me!!!!! thanks!!!!! lol. Okay so for my work titles, which are always terrible and I literally regret them immediately after posting, it’s usually just some words I play around with and string together that are somewhat thematic and related to the work... they’re always terrible lmao, I hate making titles. I mean, look at “soldier, go bravely on” and “wolf, circle north” for god’s sake, I hate them lmao. But I have to pick a title to post, so!!! For chapter titles and one-shots I’ll usually go with a song lyric, and especially for my chapter titles I spend so long seeking out the perfect one that reflects some thematic or emotional content of the chapter somehow. I’m very proud of my chapter titles for wolf, circle north. I have a doc on my scrivener just for chapter titles that I created in the very early stages of writing it, where I just dumped HUNDREDS of song lyrics that I thought I might use. Then by them I wrote some scenarios where they could work. here’s a screenshot:

It’s so helpful now. Sometimes posting an update will take an hour more than necessary because of me going through that doc, finding the perfect lyric. 

do you outline: OH, DO I OUTLINE... Hell Yeah, I outline. I couldn’t live without outlining. I love outlining. My outlines have outlines. I’m a planner centric, calendar centric, bullet-journal bitch so of course I love outlining. In all seriousness though: I write out of chronological order. I feel my writing is best when I write the scene I’m in the mood to write- unfortunately this scene could be ten chapters down the line from the chapter I’m gonna post next. This is the biggest reason outlining is necessary for me. If I didn’t have an outline, my story would be a non-post-able mess. 

I wasn’t kidding when I said my outlines have outlines. For wolf, circle north I have, um, a few. Character/location centric outlines where I bullet every scene that needs to happen for that plot to happen cohesively (these were all more or less completed before I even started writing the fic), then a “loose” outline that I copy everything from the other outlines into for some semblance of chronological order, then a Polished Final Outline that I write from. I know that sounds psychotic. It’s how my brain works. Some photo evidence/explanation:

And here’s a screengrab of my Final Outline, this is pretty much how it is all the way down- The POV character is italicized in the front, I talk to myself a lot in there, let myself get carried away, will sometimes write out whole segments of the scene if they come to me while outlining. Spoilers for chapters 1-3 of w,cn I guess!!!

Then, because scrivener is awesome, I get to see this outline in the corkboard view (I input every scene as a card) and so I get to see every part of my outline as a Synopsis on the right hand side of the doc where I’m writing the scene:

The POV and status tags (which are completely customizable) on the lower right are helpful too. This post is just a scrivener ad. 

complete: 9 works 

in progress: 4 works

coming soon / not yet started: I have so many fics in the works, I’m an indulgent person so if an idea comes to me I usually go with it for a time. I’ve had a very not-serious Jonsa PLL AU I’ve been writing on and off since summer. I have three different fairytale AUs (also jonsas) I’ve been working on and one time travel AU for @sunbeamsandmoonrays. I can’t say when or if any of these will see the light of day, because my priority is my WIPs and my original writing. But the most prevalent are my Halloween fics (one jonsa, one gendrya, one merthur) which I really want to be able to put out this month, but only if I meet some other goals. I’m trying to rein in my indulgent ass, ya’ll. 

do you accept prompts: no. sorry! but I do workshop ideas with friends, for example the nedsei fic happened that way by talking with @flibbertigiblet. But I don’t take writing prompts in my inbox. 

upcoming story you are most excited to write: my halloween merthur fic. it’s witchy, sassy, and I’m so excited to get back into the heads of these characters.

Tagging! @uchihabat @anniebibananie @noqueenbutthequeeninthenorth @sailorshadzter @vivilove-jonsa and any other lovely writer soul who wants to do this!

[starship-squidlet]

i like it when you sleep, for you are so beautiful yet so unaware of it.

Description: Leopika fluff, inspired by the song ‘I like it when you sleep, for you are so beautiful yet so unaware of it’ by The 1975.

A/N: So, I guess I'm getting back to my roots here by posting HxH fic again, considering it's how I got my start writing... Anyways, I've been rewatching Hunter X Hunter at the behest of one of the guys I work with, and basically it just feels like I'm in middle school discovering my favorite anime all over again and it's great. So have some Leopika fluff/angst (mostly fluff I promise) to celebrate! Also, I actually reread and edited this chapter, which I NEVER EVER do, if that tells you how I feel about this.

LISTEN WHILE YOU READ

Disclaimer: I don't own Leorio or Kurapika, but I do own this story!!! Cross-posting to FF.net and Ao3 under ChocolatteKitty-Kat and to tumblr as maliciousbubbl3s.

(Word count: 1,499)

Leorio yawned and shifted slightly. He cracked one eye open to look at the alarm clock on the nightstand next two him. 3:34 AM glowed bright red in the dark of the room. Past the red gleam of the clock face, he could make out the shape of a large window, covered only by thin curtains, the streetlamps outside shining bright through the light fabric. There wasn’t much else in the room; Leorio knew the contents by heart. One bed, two nightstands, one wardrobe, one chair. Simple.

Outside, despite the hour, he could hear the sounds of city traffic. Nothing like it was during the day, to be clear--only the occasional vehicle passed the window--but there was still a steady flow to it. Behind him, Leorio could hear faint music playing. If he held his breath between the cars passing outside, he could even hear the soft breathing of the bed’s other occupant. He risked a glance over his shoulder, moving as little as possible.

Kurapika was curled up on his side, back pressed against Leorio’s. His legs were drawn up nearly to his chest, feet tucked under Leorio’s legs--honestly, if his feet are always so cold, why doesn’t he just wear socks to bed? Leorio grumbled internally--and his arms pulled in tight to his torso. Leorio moved further, trying to glimpse his partner’s face, before he finally gave up and turned over. He reached out and gently brushed shaggy blond hair away from Kurapika’s face, which was half buried in his pillow. The smaller man’s eyes were squeezed shut, and Leorio could tell that he was clenching his jaw. Leorio watched the rise and fall of his chest and noticed how rapid and shallow his breathing was.

With a sigh, Leorio settled back down, wrapping an arm around Kurapika’s torso to pull him up against his stomach. Kurapika let out a soft sound of protest, somewhere between a grunt and a grumble, but pressed himself back against Leorio. Leorio brushed a hand over Kurapika’s face, pushing his hair back out of the way, then reached down for one of Kurapika’s hands. He found both of the latter’s hands balled into tight fists and set at gently prying them open. It wasn’t actually hard to do, now that Kurapika had begun to relax, and once he was done, Leorio interlaced his fingers with Kurapika’s. A glance over his shoulder at the alarm clock showed that the time was now 4:02 AM; Leorio glared at the clock, but sighed and closed his eyes, hoping for sleep.

.*.*.*.*.*.

Less than two hours after he had fallen asleep, Leorio was awoken by the loud, incessant wail of the alarm clock, letting him know that it was already 6:00 in the morning. Groaning in protest, he rolled over and slapped in the vague direction of the alarm clock’s off button, finding it after only a few smacks. When the sound stopped, Leorio rolled onto his back and stared up at the ceiling, relishing in the “quiet”--because the early morning traffic sounds and Kurapika’s soft music were practically silent compared to the scream of the alarm.

Finally, he groaned and sat up, moving carefully in an attempt not to jostle his partner, who, by some miracle, was apparently still asleep. Leorio left the lights off as he shuffled around, changing into his slacks and shirt before slipping into the tiny bathroom to brush his teeth. As he did so, he peered back into the bedroom and sighed in relief. Kurapika was still curled up in bed, although he had moved enough to pull all of the blankets around himself once Leorio got up. He looked more relaxed than he had in the night, for which Leorio was thankful. He didn’t ask about Kurapika’s nightmares, and Kurapika generally didn’t volunteer information on them, but Leorio, now that he knew what to watch for, did everything he could to calm the panic that tended to rise in his partner, even while sleeping.

Once he was finished in the bathroom, Leorio flicked the light off and slipped out into the main room of the apartment. It wasn’t much bigger than the bedroom, and was just as sparsely furnished--only a couch, coffee table, armchair, and small TV stand occupied the living area, and a tiny table with three mismatched chairs was shoved up against the blank wall in the kitchen area. Leorio turned on the light in the kitchen and set about making himself breakfast, keeping an eye on the time. When he finished, he turned around for the table, plate of eggs in one hand and coffee cup in the other, and had to stifle a shriek, barely catching himself before he dropped his breakfast on the floor.

“I thought you were sleeping,” Leorio grumbled, setting his food on the table.

Kurapika yawned and sat down across from him. He wore a t-shirt that was almost definitely one of Leorio’s--given how big it was on him--and a pair of loose joggers, and was shivering in the morning chill. “You make too much noise,” he shrugged, running his fingers through his messy hair.

“You slept through my alarm, but not through me making breakfast?” Leorio glared at the blond as he shoveled food into his mouth.

Kurapika paused. “Your alarm went off?”

Leorio rolled his eyes. “How is it that sometimes you sleep like a rock, and other times you wake up at the tiniest sound?”

Kurapika shrugged. “Is there more coffee?”

“Yes,” Leorio sighed, nodding back towards the coffee maker on the counter. “But you should really go back to bed. You were late last night. Do you have to go back to work today?”

Kurapika shook his head as he poured himself a cup of coffee. “I have the day off.”

“Finally,” Leorio teased. He finished off his eggs and chugged the last of his coffee, scalding the roof of his mouth in the process. He slipped past Kurapika--who was now, for some reason, perched on the counter next to the coffee maker--to put his dishes in the sink, and hurried back into the bedroom for his shoes, tie, and blazer. “So, you’ll be here when I get home?”

Kurapika took a sip of his coffee, looking thoughtful. “I guess,” he said finally. “I don’t really have anything better to do.”

“Thanks,” Leorio glared at him, pulling his jacket on.

“Come here,” Kurapika sighed, setting his coffee aside and reaching out for Leorio. When the taller man approached, Kurapika grabbed his tie to pull him close and adjusted it, then checked to make sure Leorio’s collar was folded down properly. “There.”

“Thanks,” Leorio grinned. He leaned down and pressed a kiss to Kurapika’s forehead. “I’ll see you later?”

“Yes,” Kurapika chuckled, giving Leorio’s tie a final tug before releasing it.

“Good,” Leorio beamed. He hurried to grab his briefcase and opened the door. He took one step into the hall, then leaned back into the apartment. “Hey!”

Kurapika whipped around to face him. “What?”

“Get some rest!”

Kurapika grinned. “Doctor’s orders?”

“You bet,” Leorio winked. “See you later.”

.*.*.*.*.*.

When Leorio got home that night, he found the TV on, but the lights in the living room off. He shut the door quietly and slipped off his shoes, laying his briefcase and blazer on the kitchen counter before flicking the kitchen light on. He tip-toed over to the couch and peered over the back of it. Sure enough, Kurapika was curled up there, sound asleep, bundled up in a heavy blanket. Leorio smiled softly and brushed blond hair out of his partner’s face, using the motion to check Kurapika’s temperature as well. Satisfied that he didn’t seem to be running a fever, Leorio moved around the couch and picked the TV remote up off the table, flipping through the channels in search of something interesting to watch--Kurapika had left an infomercial channel on when he fell asleep. Once he found something, he sat down on the end of the couch, lifting Kurapika’s legs out of the way and placing them on his lap after he situated himself.

Almost an hour later, Leorio was starting to drift off himself when Kurapika finally began to stir. “Morning, sleepyhead,” Leorio teased.

Kurapika sat up and yawned widely, rubbing his eyes. “What time is it?”

“Nearly 8:30,” Leorio said.

“Seriously!?” Kurapika started. “I slept almost all day!”

Leorio laughed. “Your body must have needed the rest. I told you--you need to take it easy sometimes. You can’t always go at full throttle.”

Kurapika sighed and pulled his legs up to his chest, resting his head on the back of the couch. “Sometimes it feels like I can’t help it.”

“I know,” Leorio said softly, reaching out to rest his hand on Kurapika’s knee. “That’s why you have me. To remind you to slow down, and help you do it.”

Kurapika cracked a smile. “I guess you’re right.”

“You know I am!” Leorio grinned. “Now… what’s for dinner?”

[ayamari-no-goshi]

Verboten 7 | (T)

ff.net | AO3

Fandom: Danny Phantom (DP)

Summary:   AU. When Danny was five years old, he went missing for 2 weeks. In the years that follow, his family tried to make sense of what happened, only for the truth to be discovered years later.

Warnings: rated T for violence, mentions of death, language. Be prepared for some very weird things

Chapter warning: Mentions of blood

Parings: Danny/Sam

Notes: originally uploaded to Ff.net. Cross-posted to AO3 and tumblr. This fic is very heavily inspired by folklore surrounding mysterious wilderness disappearances

Chapter 7

Danny was unnerved by the turn of events. After his ultimatum, Plasmius somehow pulled him through the floor and sat him back at the same table as before. If he had to describe the experience, it was a mix of having his stomach drop while his body went entirely numb, and if he was honest, for a brief moment, it felt like his body didn't exist. It left him chilled to the core, although he wasn't certain if that chill was mental, physical, or a mixture of the two.

Plasmius didn't seem bothered by the action, which would make sense if he really was a ghost. However, it was clear he wasn't in the same cordial mood as before. Instead, he seemed both impatient and distracted at the same time. He didn't speak. He just stared at Danny as if he was waiting for something.

"You're creeping me out," Danny told him when the staring got too much to handle. "Look, you wanted to talk to me, and it's not like I can go anywhere." Like before, he was once again stuck to the chair, but this time he noticed there seemed to be a faintly glowing green substance. If he had to guess, that was what was keeping him in place. "How about you explain how we originally met? You said you helped me when I got lost before, right?"

"That I did," Plasmius replied as his posture relaxed. "It's not every day a young boy appears at the door steps of my castle. While I'm not exactly sure what lured you to this realm first, I do know you appeared frightened and asked for my assistance. Normally, I would have turned a child away, but something about you caught my interest so I provided you with food, shelter, and entertainment until a weak spot, a portal so to speak, between the realms once again formed."

"You had piqued my interest so much that I kept a watch on you over the years," he continued as watched Danny closely. "I believe you may have caught glimpses of me, but we didn't meet face to face again until you wandered into the woods behind your house one particular day. Once again, I entertained you until you could make it back on your own."

Plasmius' story seemed plausible, but there was something about it that was bothering Danny. Something important was being omitted, but he was at a loss to understand what that might be. What would make this ghost so interested in him of all people? "Are you sure you have the right person? I mean, I'm pretty average."

The ghost gave him an incredulous look. "You are the only son of doctors Madeline and Jack Fenton, are you not? Aren't you the same boy who went missing for a week when you were out berry picking with your aunt and sister?"

"I am, but…"

"But you do not understand why you're here, correct?" When Danny hesitantly nodded, Plasmius gave him a chilling grin. "Simple, I've been looking for an heir. Over the years, I've had plenty of workers and servants, but none of them have met the criteria. You, on the other hand, have the potential that only a handful ever have."

"I still don't understand…" Danny was sure Plasmius was now playing with him, and it was giving him a headache. Actually, was it a headache? Or did he still feel off from going through the floor earlier? He leaned his head against the back of the chair and closed his eyes.

"You'll understand in due time." There was a strange pause. When Plasmius spoke again, he seemed concerned. "Daniel? Daniel, what's wrong? Butter biscuits. You appeared to be responding so well previously… Is this a backlash?"

Danny felt his body suddenly lurk forward. He barely registered that his back was no longer stuck to the chair as his vision swam. In an attempt to calm his head, he rested his head in his hands and breathed steadily. His body shuddered every so often as chills started, and a groan escaped him. This was the worst timing for him to get sick.

He could vaguely sense that Plasmius was now beside him. The ghost carefully touched his shoulder and then forehead before unexpectedly lifting him. When he tried to protest, Plasmius ignored him and plunged them both through the floor.

….

"How else? I'm the one who took him."

A creeping fear gripped Sam. Although she had known the specter should not be trusted, she hadn't quite expected him to be forthcoming regarding deaths. Although, she did had to acknowledge that death might not be as big of a taboo to a ghost, it did nothing to ease her concerns.

"I find it best to test my plans ahead of time," Plasmius continued. He seemed to be enjoying her and Tucker's fear. "And with such a varied success rate, it was better to use as many test subjects as possible. Hmm… I forgot it is possible for Daniel to lose part, if not all of his memory. Should I wait to act until after the process finishes?" He continued to mutter to himself for a few moments before he grew very still.

"Is it just me," she whispered, making Tucker jump, "or does it seem like he's distracted?"

"I think you're right," he agreed as he gave her a searching look, "and, that's going to help us how?"

"He might have keys or something. I mean, he locked us in here somehow."

"Sam, he didn't use the door, and I don't think attempting to tackle someone who openly admitted to murder will end up going too well for us."

"Do you have any better ideas?"

The two of them stared at each other for a few seconds before Tucker sighed. "On three?"

Normally, Sam would say something smart regarding her victory, but this wasn't the time for it. "On three," she agreed.

Instead of their normal verbal countdown, Sam used her fingers to count. When she reached three, the two of them lunged at Plasmius. Instead of hitting something solid, Sam felt like she had been plunged into a bucket of ice water before she and Tucker crashed into the ground. She was stunned for a second before she glanced towards the ghost. He was still there. How…?

As if he read her mind, the ghost sneered at her. "Such a pity. That may have worked on a human, but if you didn't know, most ghosts can become intangible. But enough of these games, I have need of your assistance. It appears Daniel isn't doing quite as well as I hoped."

"What did you do to him?" Sam demanded as she scrambled to her feet.

"I haven't done a thing!" Plasmius pinched the bridge of his nose before sighing. "I don't have time for this. Come here." Sam and Tucker barely had time to react before Plasmius lunged forward, grabbed them by the arm, and pulled them through the floor.

After the freezing sensation subsided, Sam glanced around and gasped. She and Tucker were now in what appeared to be a modern lab, and in the middle of it was what appeared to be an examination table. After a double take, she realized there was a second Plasmius hovering over it.

The Plasmius who brought them to the room moved to the other one as disappeared into it. The now singular Plasmius turned to look at them, and by doing so, she had a better view of the examination table and who was on it.

"Danny!" she and Tucker shouted. She tried to run towards him, but Plasmius blocked their way.

"Don't shout," he snapped at them. "Daniel is in a precarious situation."

"Oh, so now you show concern?"

"I told you, I don't wish any harm on him. However," he glanced behind him at the unconscious boy. He was very still, but his shuddering breaths indicated he was still alive. However, his appearance seemed to ripple. His hair was still white, but it would momentarily flicker to black. His skin now seemed to have turned a strange tan, almost the same color as very old paper, but it would fade back to the healthy and pale skin tone Danny naturally had, "his body can't figure out which form it needs to take, and I can't have him completely dying on me."

Sam shared a look with Tucker. That statement didn't make any sense. If he was a ghost and wanted Danny to stay with him, why wouldn't he want Danny to die?

"What exactly do you need us for?" Tucker hesitantly questioned.

"Right now, I simply need you to watch him. There is research I must do before I take further action." A strange, almost smug grin appeared on his face which gave Sam the creeps. "Perhaps it was an unexpected blessing you ended up coming as well. If Daniel's condition continues going south, then I might be able to use your blood to strengthen him."

"Our… our what?"

"You have no idea how much power the essence of life holds for the dead. Putting that aside, that is not something I would consider unless it becomes absolutely necessary as Daniel would not appreciate it, no matter how noble the cause." He regarded them carefully for a moment. "I will return shortly." Plasmius took a few floating steps forward before he faded out of sight.

Sam let out a breath she didn't realize she was holding. That… that think was seriously considering using their blood? As sick as it sounded, she had a nagging feeling she had come across that same concept before. Something about providing clarity? She quickly brushed the idea aside. She was probably just remembering something that came out of one of her gothic horror stories, and fiction was not what she needed at that moment.

Now that Plasmius was gone, she carefully approached Danny. His brows were furrowed, and he wore a slight frown as he rested, but there was a slight sheen of sweat on his forehead. If it wasn't for the weird thing his skin and hair was doing, she would have guessed he was just fighting off a fever. Maybe that's what was wrong. Maybe his body was fighting off some ghostly bug. It was as just as plausible as anything else this world had to offer.

"Danny?" she hesitantly whispered as she gently shook his shoulder. When he didn't respond, she began a little more forceful as she tried to ignore how cold he felt.

"Wha…?" Danny's voice was incredibly sleepy as he finally stirred. He tried to sit up, but immediately fell back to laying flat. "What happened? Did someone catch… urgh… the license plate on that truck?"

Despite herself, she let out a weak chuckle. "I think that's one thing ghosts might not have. How are you feeling?"

"I dunno… I've heard of ghost trucks before." Now that he was more awake, it was obvious Danny was not doing well. Even though he was still trying to joke, his voice was weak and soft. When his eyes opened and flickered towards her, she noticed they were now a dull green. "Sam? When did you…?" His eyes widened in alarm, and he tried to sit up. Worried, she tried to help him. "Where's Tucker? Where did Plasmius… ugh…"

As Danny held his head, Tucker came over to him. "You might want to take it easy. We're perfectly fine, but you look like Dash got a hold of you that one time when he was nearly suspended after breaking that freshman's leg."

"That bad? Plasmius didn't do anything to you?"

"I mean, he did lock us in a room and kinda threatened us."

Danny's eyes momentarily became a brighter green at Tucker's statement. "That asshole! I thought he was just interested in me." He tried to inch towards the edge of the table but stopped as he swayed. "Woah…"

"Dude, I mean it, you should take it easy right now. We're fine. He didn't actually hurt us, yet."

"Tucker! What he means is that Plasmius was debating what to do with us, but since he seems to want to stay on your good side, he's not interested in hurting us." Sam deliberately left out Plasmius' mention about them possibly becoming like him and whatever Danny might be. Did Danny even know what was happening to him? Biting her lip, she hesitantly asked, "Err, what happened to you?"

"I… I really don't know. I think Plasmius just talked to me, but I don't know what happened between that weird forest… and… and waking up at that table. I started feeling sick after he phased me through the floor after he showed me you two were okay." He glanced around. "Where are we exactly? Is this a lab?"

"It is," Tucker responded. Sam looked over to see he was fiddling with one of the computers. "I finally figured out that this is where that signal from earlier was coming from, but I don't understand why a ghost would have computers like this." He tapped a few buttons which caused the screen in front of him to change. "Well, that was easy. Let's see what he's up to?" After a few more taps, a folder opened. "Oh? Oh my god….!"

Concerned by the tone of his voice, Sam went over to investigate. It was a decision she was fairly certain she was going to regret for the rest of her life. The images on the screen… they had to be some of Plasmius' failed experiments. "I'm going to be sick. Tucker! Change it!"

"What? What is it?" Danny called from the table.

"It… it's nothing. Don't worry about it." Tucker quickly minimized the folder. Catching he didn't completely log out of it, she sent him a questioning glance. He just pointed towards his PDA, which looked like it was downloading something. With a start, she realized he was downloading the files onto his PDA. "In case we make it out of here," he explained as he opened a second folder.

This time, it just appeared to be a bunch of employee profiles. However, there were two major company logos that kept appearing on the profiles: VladCo and DALV. "Wait, are these Vlad's employees? Why would a ghost have files on them?"

"Sam, I think these are most of the victims," Tucker whispered to her. "If… if I didn't know better, it almost seems like he's been specifically targeting them."

A strange idea crossed Sam's mind. It was so incredulous, but that the same time, she couldn't shake it. "Do… do you think Vlad is working for or with Plasmius?"

Tucker gave her a long hard look. "I really hope that's not the case, but how else would Plasmius get technology like this?"

"And didn't Plasmius say he arranged this meeting with Danny? And we saw Vlad at camp. Was he there to double check things?"

"Guys?" Danny's hesitant and distressed question brought Sam and Tucker's attention back to him. He was staring at his hand, or where his hand was supposed to be. It was gone, but there was no sign of blood or trauma. It was just gone. After a moment, it faded back into visibility. "Guys, what's happening to me?"

"I… I really don't know Danny," Sam truthfully replied. "It might have something to do with us being here. I mean, Plasmius did say this was the land of the dead." She tried not to wince as she fibbed. If Danny was in the dark regarding what happened to him, she really didn't want to alarm him, especially when she didn't know to fix it.

Tucker seemed to catch her reasoning as he added, "It might stop when we get out of here."

Danny tried to glare at them but was unable to muster much of one as he swayed again. "Guys, I know you're hiding something. What's… hey, what was that?"

"What do you mean?"

"Shh! Listen!"

A grinding sound slowly filled the room. The three looked around to try to find a source, but it seemed to come from thin air. After a moment, Sam caught movement. One of the floor's large flagstones was beginning to shift.

----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- Note:

Drawing back into mythology/legends for the blood thing. If you travel all the way back to ancient Greece, there was a belief that the way for a ghost or shade to recover its senses and sense of self was to provide it with blood. This can be human or animal, and this is actually referenced in The Odyssey. This is because the Greeks believed the spirit and blood were closely tied together, which is also seen in Vampiric lore.

This concept of providing some form of essence to other realms continued, but as time passed, it became more associated with food offerings. Those of the other realms did not 'eat' the food, but instead they took what is best phrased as the vitality, essence, or energy of it. This force, for lack of a better term, is sometimes referred to as foyson or toradh. The food offering varies from culture to culture. And interestingly, if food was not offered, then the otherworldly forces took revenge and/or brought misfortune.

So, for this story, "food" is very important… and I don't think I originally set out to do that. From what I understand, most of you have guessed Danny is still a 'halfa' for this story, and since, like previously mentioned for this AU, food is the easiest to acquire, use, and understand, Plasmius is using the duality between what's found in the realm of the dead and the world of the living to try to keep Danny's two halves balanced during his transition. Human blood is a more potent carrier of this essence, so as things go south, he's considering it.

Also, per this story, the blood thing is yet another reason humans are sometimes taken by ghosts. There are a lot of possible reasons for abductions in this story.