#and like it’s so far outside of the normal comfort zone of this fandom

[thorkyriebabes]

*me trying to think of something normal to say to you*: um um um dragons make me think of you

😭😭❤️❤️😁😁😚🤪😜😎🙏🏻🐉🦖🗻🏔️⛰️

[sunny-mercya]

First-Aid

Poly! Billy Loomis & Stu Macher x Male Reader

Fandom -> Scream 1996

Requested by -> @silentlycoris

Masterlist

»My daddy is a nurse and he once told, always help when someone needs help.«

That had been your sole and only explanation you had given Billy and Stu, when they asked you—after you ushered them inside your house—why you treated their injuries when they're Strangers to you.

It was a night to be remembered of how they both had meet you—it happened after one of their very first testing out kills, just measly murdering back then, wanting to see how it goes—testing the waters—and if they improve on anything.

What neither of them had calculated, that one of their test subjects of killing had been a bodybuilder and the man—much larger in height and more muscular in shape—did put up an good back fight, which did ended in him being dead anyways—but also Billy and Stu getting injured.

In the unholy hours of night, when they wandered out of the alley—in a town a few miles away from Woodsboro—tracking a walk of two hours back home, Stu whined all the way—till they reached the first line of houses of Woodsboro—like a small child, about to have a tantrum any moment, Billy's ear off—complaining about the pain and the blood and how stupid that idea was.

Billy, rubbing his temples—trying to ease his splitting headache—scoffed loudly at his friend, telling him to just shut his mouth and suck it up—jaw clenching in building annoyance.

There just some minor issues of injuries, nothing big to whine about and neither is there a need for going into the hospital—wouldn't be really a good idea—as they could bandaging themselves up just as good.

When passing a few houses—looking so ominous looming without any real streetlights—Billy and Stu flinched visibly, out of surprise, when a Dog started to bark and came—from the small bits of garden they passed—running towards them, sniffing as they're fresh butchered meat—than again, with blood on them, they might be.

»Dallas! Dallas my boy whats wrong?« you came jogging out the door, clothed in baggy pyjamas, when Dallas didn't returned and continued with his barking outside.

Once close enough, you raised your eyebrows at the two strangers—not expecting on your tonights Bingo list of nothing spectacular happenings, to have these strangers—covered in blood, you assumed at least, with the nonexistent light out here it was hard to tell—passing by your house and getting jumped by Dallas.

»Are you....you two alright? You look a bit beaten.« you waged with yourself to ask such, personal, question—whatever happened was not your job to snoop in.

»Your dog's named Dallas?« asked Stu, pushing Billy a bit away to get near to you, ignoring your question completely and his momentary whining of pain—too intrigued on your dogs name, wanting to know why choose such a name.

»Uhm yeah, it was the only name which seemed to fit and click, when he had been just a pup years ago.«

Normally, Dallas would've barked up a storm and snarling his teeth at anyone—who isn't your dad or a very close friend—when they come far too near into your personal comfort bubble zone—and this tall strangers before you, had already crossed such bounds, but Dallas seemed to be okay with it.

»Stu. You're towering again. Stop that, you skyscraper.« Billy pulled Stu, by his hoodie, away from you—giving you a small nod.

»You two seriously seemed to be injured and I don't wanna overstep here any line, but just come inside and I'll patch you two up.«

With that being said, you grabbed them both by their hand and dragged them back inside.

~~~

»I hope you brought me some pizza and Fanta as a payment for me patching you two up, once again.« you said teasingly, when Billy and Stu came through the kitchen backdoor—calling out for you and Stu being overexcited to see Dallas again, although you three had seen each other this morning and afternoon already.

»You getting real pricy here, babe.« Billy grins, licking over his lips as he goes into the living room and setting down onto the couch.

»Oh really? With the amount of medical supplies you and Stu are wasting, because of your little secret what the ever-fuck, I should actually raise my prices of payment much higher than it is.«

Your voice was laced with amusement, getting the wipes of disinfectants, cooling creams and gauzes out—already inspecting Billy's minor injuries.

Ever since the night you first have patched them up, Billy and Stu dropped by two days after—saying their thanks and gifting you chocolate and dog-treats.

Then they keep visiting you, getting to know you better and better over the long summer and persuading—trying at least—to transfer to their highschool instead of going to the one in Flintstocks.

And somehow this blooming friendship, over the last two years, turned into Billy and Stu dropping by also in the late nights—whenever they're finished with their whatsoever secret kinda hobby—to get patched up by you as posses the medical knowledge and you're—by Billy and Stu's teasingly opinion—their favourite nurse.

»[Nickname]! I wanna be patched up first! Billy went first last time already!« Stu whines, he was good at such antics.

You sometimes teased, that Stu reminds you of a overgrown puppy which way too much energy—rivalling against Dallas, when it comes to your attention and affection.

»Well, then how about moving your ass here into the living room, Stu honey?« chuckling, you called back to him—sharing a knowing smile of amusement with Billy.

Like being said, you're indeed their favourite Nurse.

[sweetrottenendings]

"Plea"

Lawrence Oleander x GN!Reader

I might make a part 2 to this idk i just luv my plant wife.

SFW, one single swear word, 899 words. You wanna go on a date with Lawrence. Maybe a little OOC? Still figuring out how i wanna portray him in my writing.

Once again MDNI i promise you this fandom isn't for you.

-

It’s been a long time since you’ve had fresh air- real fresh air, not just Lawrence opening the window a smidge after your pleading. Despite all the greenery littering his apartment (or- your home, the cage you’ll never leave.) it feels as if the oxygen has been sapped entirely. All that is left is the musk, the stench of rot and the way its salt infects your lungs. Is there a chemical mixture of salt and carbon dioxide? Probably, but it likely isn’t what you’re sucking in at the moment.

Sometimes however, it brings you comfort with the familiarity. Stockholm syndrome set in long ago, so long ago that you struggle to remember the moment it hit. You don’t think you’d have it any other way, you love Lawrence despite the revolting relationship that’s been curated in the space- you’re thinking about the air again.

The delicate sound of trickling water sounds out, Lawrence is watering the plants. He’s meticulous, as he is with everything he does. Eyes narrowed and eyebrows furrowed as he dictates the exact amount of water each plant requires. It’s moments like these where you get to observe him in his entirety. The way his form hunches, blonde hair that occasionally clings to his neck, bright blue eyes that used to haunt your nightmares but now soothe your dreams. If only there were a universe where you had met normally, where Lawrence wasn’t as disturbed as he is- and you could be a normal couple. One that goes on cute dates to the park, snuggles together at night when the rain gushes outside, loves each other like normal people and don’t prod at each others spinal cords-

You should stop that thought there.

A park date, you imagine that would be something he could enjoy- considering his affinity for nature. Perhaps he could even enjoy it in this universe? He loves you, he really does- in his own fucked up way. Plus you really, desperately need fresh air. You need to inhale it as hard as you can, to feel alive for once (But do you really want to feel alive?) compared to the hollow death you feel now. Lawrence would never take you out around people however, there will always be that part of him that worries you’ll run and abandon what you’ve created together. (You never will, he’s all you need.)

What about during the night? He could take you to any spot he chooses, hide you from anyone he sees- even tie you to him, surely you could make it look inconspicuous. It would be nice too, the weather during the night is pleasant and far more suited to what he’s used to. He might get angry though, he wouldn’t kill you but maybe he’d finally go through with the threat to cut off your limbs. After pondering for a moment, you decide it’s worth the risk.

Your voice cuts him out of the zone he’s found himself in- he turns sharply towards you. He isn’t as trembly as he used to be, now confident in his power over you. “Lawrence-” Your voice is soft, the way you’ve trained it to be, “I have a request…”

He stares at you, unblinking.

“This is t-the biggest thing I will ever ask of you, and I won’t be upset or surprised if you say no.” It’s not like your feelings matter anyway, but you hope it may soothe any anger. He places down the watering can with a soft sound and makes his way to you. You haven’t been tied up in a very long time, but sometimes you sit yourself in the same chair from the start- it’s almost comforting. He kneels down to your eye level with a stern stare, and nods- prompting you to continue.

“I-I want to go outside-” He inhales sharply “-with you…” He exhales. “A date, in a park maybe, during the night so there isn’t anyone around…” You give him a sweet smile, as loving as you can, “...it’d be just us, like it’s meant to be.” he continues to stare, blue eyes burning into your soul and eating whatever confidence you had left- jaws wide and unrelenting. He must be angry, surely, he’s going to cut your limbs off and tie you back up, you’ve destroyed everything!-

“Okay…” You blink.

“Okay?”

He nods “We… we can go out.” You feel your heart swell with the most joy you’ve felt in your life, it bursts at the seams like you’ve just gorged yourself at a buffet. You want to hug him- you reach your trembling arms out in hopes he understands, and he does. Taking you into his arms, soft yet oddly strong for someone like him, he wraps you into his being. A hand comes up to stroke your hair in a soothing gesture- you didn’t realise you had started crying. You nuzzle your face deep into his chest, a grateful mantra pouring from your forever scarred lips. He tilts your head up to face him- a warm smile splayed across his face, filled with nothing but love for you, only you, forever you.

His voice is the gentlest you’ve ever heard from him,

“If you try to run, I will kill you.”

You smile back,

“Good, I love you Lawrence…”

He doesn’t say it back, but he doesn’t have to. You know he loves you.

[dinnerbug]

An introduction

(Because I just noticed I haven't done one)

If you can't be bothered to read see highlighted sections for shortened but still understandable information

My name(s): Dinnerbug!

Both just bug or dinner work too if you want to shorten it down, and I'm also very open to Nicknames :D

My pronouns: It's (very) complicated

But to put it short for convenience, pretty much anything but xenopronouns work for me. Though I am quite fond of the sets she/him, he/they, they/it, and e/em/eir specifically

Things I think people should know about me:

I don't care who, what or where you are, I don't care what you believe. As long as what you like, believe, identify as or do doesn't harm anyone (harm anyone innocent that is) then you do you. I'm sick of people bullying eachother over nothing and I've worked on myself to break that mindset of 'I don't like that so it's bad'. To put it short, I'm a very accepting person and I'm only judgemental towards assholes (edited to add this because I feel it's important and I forgot it when I first made this post)

Interacting with people online like this is very much me going outside of my comfort zone, I am very anxious and I have very little self-confidence. If you interact with me in any way, be it a message, comment or ask and I don't reply, I'm probably just drowning in anxiety trying to figure out what to reply with. So if something like that happens I'm so sorry if I respond late, it just takes me time and it is not your fault. Also sometimes I start writing weirdly formally and I have no idea how I developed that habit

Miscellaneous facts: This is gonna be long

I tend to ramble a lot in posts like this I am so so sorry lmao (moved up for convenience)

I am autistic

I am british

I am asexual

I am non-binary

I have aphantasia (it sucks)

I love LORE

My favourite kind of fanfics are the kind where all my relatable favourite characters go through severe emotional turmoil and/or get hit into a wall with great force.

I can ride a bike

My favourite games are Minecraft and Portal 2

I love puzzles

I have an amazingly terrible sleep schedule. I will often be awake until 4am and asleep until 3pm, or often I won't sleep at all

I hope to learn to draw so I can interact with my favourite fandoms better and perhaps even make some friends

My hair is (was* will re-dye it soon) dyed

My favourite colour is black (boring I know)

My favourite word is No

My favourite foods are pizza, pasta, cheese and coconut

I'm very detail oriented

I don't tend to ship characters much

I'm so terrible at introductions that I have to mimic other people's ones and they still end up bad

I am very paranoid

One of my most common nightmare themes are zombie apocalypses, usually triggered by seeing zombie related content online within the past 2 days

Characters with fully black eyes (as in the whole eyeball) make me very uncomfortable and I always avoid eye contact with them

I am also very scared of the dark

Fandoms I'm in and actively interact with: If any fandoms I list here are stereotyped negatively I promise I'm a nice, chill person and I just want to enjoy things peacefully (list may change over time)

Hermitcraft

(my favourite hermits: Grian and Mumbo)

Rise of the teenage mutant ninja turtles

(my favourite characters: Leo and Donnie)

Takin' over the asylum (I AM SO NOT NORMAL ABOUT THIS SHOW)

(my favourite character: CAMPBELL BAIN <3 )

Sonic the hedgehog

(my favourite characters: Shadow, Sonic and Rouge)

Doctor who

(my favourite character (so far): The Doctor)

Ninjago

(my favourite characters: Lloyd, Garmadon and Zane)

[fainthedcherry]

2024 Human Art VS 2019 Human Art !!!!!

AS PROMISED, HERE'S A POST WITH SOME NEW ART!!!

And also an art comparison, just to see, how much I improved in drawing the 2 bois <3

I'm MEGA tired despite having slept after work, but I WON'T let that deter me from writing a description!! YAPNADO AHEAD;

FINN AND MARCOOO. FINNANMARCO. BEEN A WHILE SINCE I'VE ACOUSTICALLY AND FERALLY YELLED ABOUT MY 2 FICTIONAL MEN WHOM ARE CLOSE TO MY HEART.

I'm SO glad, that in the new drawing, Marco finally looks like the twink he always was, but still enough meat on the bones to look NORMAL lmao, can't say that about the 4 other sketches of me trying to redraw this ref for years. xD (why yes, his wings took forever, why do you ask? /lh)

I'M MEGA SUPER DUPER GLAD, that Finn FINALLY looks like a chubby, wild bastard TOO, OH TOOTHPASTE MAN, HOW MANY HEARTACHES YOU GAVE ME OVER STRUGGLING TO DRAW AN ENDOMORPHIC BODY TYPE. BUT I CAN NOWWWWWWWwwww!!!!!

God this habit of loudly reading out my posts as I type them made me realise what a bad Schwarzenegger impression I do on accident bc I'm overly excited to post something after a month of silence SDKFSKLDG

ONE THING I ALWAYS WANTED TO DO. IS PUT EVERY DETAIL I NEEDED ON A BIG REF. SO I DID! I've drawn closeups of the boys's eyes, I've drawn Finn's tongue so that I don't need to constantly remind myself what his blush and flesh colours were sdfkldsgkl, I FINALLY denoted their heights, so people know that they're tall TALL dudes (and that Finn obviously will struggle w/ his lanky mfing legs, we LOVE giving a middle-aged man heart attacks once he reaches his 40's!!!)

ANNDDD ALSO SOME SIDE VIEWS OF THEM. The last side-view I had of F & M, looked REAL bad. Like, Marco's face looked WAY too stereotypically European (to my fault bc surprise surprise not many African people live in Europe so I had poor frame of reference but I've been fixing it via looking up images online instead, at least it helps but yeah, I have a hard time so far unfortunately💀), Finn's was just... B u c k e t. NOT LIKE HANDSOME BUCKET. BUT JUST BUCKET. IT NEEDED FIXING (fun fact I accidentally made Finn have the most attractive jaw shape for men according to beauty standards and I DIDN'T EVEN KNOW I JUST WANTED THIS MAN TO LOOK S Q U A R E AND THAT'S IT, MINECRAFT STEVE HAS MORE RIZZ THAN MOST MEN OFFICIALLY).

OH YEAH ALSO A CLAW REF AGAIN FOR FINN!!! His old ref looks too cool for me to give up on it tbh even as dated as it is sfjklsdglk, BUT I felt like I needed to redraw them properly.

FUNNILY ENOUGH A PERSON I COMMISSIONED SAID I HAVE SOME REALLY CLEAN AND NICE LINEART. I wish I heard that 5 years ago when I was really insecure about my bad lineart skills xD, I don't use lineart anymore nowadays outside of reference-drawings like these I don't plan to redraw in the next years unless necessary soooo yeah! They're gonna appear much rarer unless I go off and about making more ref sheets of all of my Sonc OC's sfklsdgsdfksdg

This drawing took 5 days to make btw. Not the hours spent on this LOL. 5 days of my life I'll never get back tho bc I care too much about my babies and I feel they deserve proper refs sdfklsdglk

WHAT ELSE SHOULD I MENTION.....HOPEFULLY I PLAN TO DRAW MORE HUMAN REFS IN THE FUTURE INSTEAD OF STAY IN MY COMFORT ZONE OF SONIC OCS ONLY. I for years wasn't confident in my ability to draw humans, but I can do so NOW at least!!!!!!!!!! Even if I'm like...3 years too late to how I wish my art looked back then already dsklfdsg, I have some high standards I need to continue to knock down as my 2024 resolution sdfklsdg

^IT'S BEEN WORKING THOUGH AS YOU CAN TELL BC I'VE BEEN UPLOADING SOME BAD DOODLES AND SKETCHES, BEEN DRAWING MORE GARBAGE AND BECAME MORE INVOLVED IN MY BELOVED FANDOMS. I wanna continue doing so! It was the most fun I've had with art ever. I hope to properly meet more fandoms I left in the past bc I thought it'd be embarrassing to share my passion for a franchise back then. I EMBRACE THE CRINGE NOW AS AN ADULT AT LEAST EVEN IF 7 YEARS TOO LATE ON THAT FRONT TOO. We all age and mature ig but I just become more silly year by year,,, c:

Oh yeah if you also see this btw lemme know, whether the new watermark tiles are subtle enough to not be noticed!!!! I know, watermarks are annoying and nobody likes them, but ever since AI invasions, I REFUSE to put my work online without ANY form of proof that somebody took it from my page. I just want people to stop lying on the internet for cloud and pick up a pencil. It's not that hard smfh. The only time I could excuse AI art is w/ amputees man. That's the only time I could empathise with someone, who wants to be an artist but LITERALLY can't bc they got dealt a bad hand in life. I digress my AI hate can be rambled about some other day, I know I love yapping and writing essays about THAT topic for sure sfklsdklg

I chose to post this ref to my Tumblr first tho, bc I still wanna work on my drawing of Abbacchio,,,, he is quite dear to me and I'd love to put effort into a doodle of him that won't take too long. Like 4 hours or 5 hours tops. I still have yet to figure out, if his cute star shape on his head is a hat or part of his hair. Bc I CAN'T TELL TBH AND I'VE BEEN DRAWING IT AS PART OF HIS HAIR PATTERN BUT I THINK IT'S A HAT NOW EVER SINCE I LOOKED AT MORE ASBR CAPS OF HIM I TOOK FOR REFERENCES. xD

Also another side-note, but I've ofc reduced down the lankiness of the dudes I draw™, but I in result wanted to sliiightly make larger feet/hands bc my Sonic phase will continue to possess me 'til the end of time /hj, if you also wanna lemme know what you think on that, bls do! I am messing about with stylization still. I am finding my footing with stylizing humans sOOO yeah!!!! I hope to some day be satisfied with my artstyle change of '24! So far it's been really rewarding and eye-opening to me and my journey as an artist for my 7 years of existing on the 'net w/ my silly goobers I like to scream about to in the void <3

Once again, tagnado also incoming below bc I dunno how to properly tag my art so lemme throw in things I THINK are relevant to this post sdkldsgkl

See you hopefully tomorrow w/ a lil doodle dump if I get around to it!!!! : D

[radicheart-a]

Oh wait I almost missed Love Sunny Hours!

I personally have an issue with like 90% of characters, even outside this fandom, that are totally different from canon "without a purpose", normally because it just comes off as the writer wanting an OC but not wanting to put in the effort, so they write someone cosplaying a canon character. YOU HOWEVER have managed to make Cal feel both like Alastor and also your own creation. He's a bit softer, sure, and not nearly as cruel, but he has his moments of monstrosity and pure fury. He can be fucking scary when he wants to. Not to mention that on top of this, you're a wonderful writer who also can and does play a more canon-leaning version of Alastor??? Just the roleplay equivalent of deadlifting 300 pounds and then going "oh wait that wasn't the 600 pound weight???" Anyway keep up the good work man, you've got serious skill and I admire it immensely.

(( I 100% understand that frustration. I've seen it happen plenty of times myself. And good gravy I'm glad I don't fall into that category! I really DID want to stick to canon for the majority of his character and tailor him to suit me on a more personal level, or take parts of his canon character (why doesn't he like sweets?) and expound on them (maybe it's because he can't eat them; maybe he's allergic to sugar. ...can people BE allergic to sugar? *google search* yes they can!). As far as him being softer, he absolutely is - but in all fairness, most of his interactions are with people he's come to like and/or be in a romantic relationship with. He's naturally going to be softer with those people. Towards strangers and acquaintances, he can swing either way. If you piss him off, or trigger his twisted AF morals? He can absolutely be rude, or a monster. I should really try to get out of my comfort zone a bit and have him interact with more people he might not get along with.

BUT YES, I DO WRITE CANON-COMPLIANT ALASTOR TOO! Y'all can find him over at @tuneonin! And even though he's still fairly new I'm SO GLAD people like him so far! Especially you! You write some of the meanest nastiest characters I've come across, so hearing I'm doing a good job over there means a LOT coming from you!

Thank you for joining Love Sunny Hour!! I love you, too, not-so-random citizen! <3 ))

[annaizscribbling]

For 'Just Out Of Reach' do you find any inspiration from anything in real life, besides the actual Sanders Sides series itself? I'm just still amazed by how well everything flows and goes together!! :)

I do actually!

As I've mentioned, I really don't know much about horror, so Just Out of Reach is super out of my usual comfort zone. Idk what I'm doing but I am so delighted it flows together!!! A few things have influenced the fic!

Actually, my original inspiration was Wandavison! I loved the unsettling Wrongness, the disturbing fakeness, the scared protagonist knowing more than they let on, and the pretend happy family life! Though I think JOoR (terrible acronym but spelling Just Out of Reach gets old fast on mobile) has surpassed the terrifyingness of Wandavison. My original notes are actually labeled 'Wandavision Inspo'

An inspiration that came later on was the 'Don't Hug Me I'm scared' series! I didin't discover this until I was about half way through what I've got so far, but it definitely influenced how I decided to portray the gore and creepyness. I already had all the scenes mapped out, but it really helped me develop that extreme feeling in the later chapters.

Outside of that, I don't have much direct inspiration lmao. Again, not much horror experience here.

I guess my dreams are a source of inspiration. I'm kinda known for having extremely surreal, horrifying, disturbing, complex dreams where I sometimes feel confused and disoriented as everyone else tells me I'm normal, so I think I've drawn some inspo from that.

Also my own childhood! Also my own depression (oof)

Aaaaaand that's about it. The rest of it is just me sitting around for a week thinkin 'how can I make Patton even more traumatized??' and then acting on it. But with symbolism there too.

Patton is an underrated gem for angst and inner conflict and Depression™ and I am here to provide. He's not even mr favorite side. I just like giving him the depth he deserves in the fandom. I also really like father figure characters, so he's perfect. Even in Low Battery I randomly decided I needed to write an 8000 word chapter about Patton angst and parent-child relationship, because he deserves it :)

[void-rainbow]

(mentions of abuse) (but more about the after effects)

(still, um, inclusion of sexual trauma. and the topic of sexuality. and triggers)

Embarrassed sometimes by my own behavior.

Hate that sometimes getting trapped in my own....I don't know what to call it. Horrors.

Being in an environment in which I can 100% escape uncomfortable situations. Either by leaving/taking a break or telling people "hey I'm uncomfortable" and knowing that they're good and will respect me and we can change course. But no. Sometimes I don't do that. And I hate it. Hate having a reaction to things that disturb me and then going harder on them.

Maybe I'll just be writing something for myself and then my brain fills with horrors and I don't even realize. Leaking everywhere into everything. And I'll be like lol this is just ridiculous fun isn't it. Horror is fun. Messed up things can be interesting. And only realizing very late that I'm in a nightmare world of my own creation and deeply disturbed and it hurts and I'm just gonna laugh until it turns to screams of pain and fear and mourning

Or playing ttrpgs with friends and the chance to flirt to distract your enemies comes up and getting too into the rp of it and I've overdone it outside my comfort zone and absolutely no one is making me do this. And maybe no one notices because it's not like it's inappropriate behavior for the setting. But I notice and feel terrible like I can't control myself. And maybe when I bring it up with friend when we were gonna start wlw specific ttrpg she says I shouldn't play because it would be too uncomfortable for others to be around that and I should figure out sexuality elsewhere.

Where. Where. Don't feel fit to be around other people sometimes. My mind is full of nightmares and they'll escape.

Can only guess at why. Not for why the nightmares exist, but why they leak out so horribly.

Being in an environment for years where everyone around you supports an abuser. Even if they don't like him. Supporting "harmony". But harmony means doing whatever he says, because anything else makes him a sad hurt victim who I'm hurting by not complying with his wants, who everyone else has to rise and defend by chastising me for making him so sad and hurt. And learning that the safest place was to comply no matter how uncomfortable or hurting I was. Run to danger and inhabit it to try to be safe. Until everything gets tangled up and I can't tell the different between enjoyment, excitement, pain, discomfort.

Can only wonder if being around others might pull them into my nightmare world

Don't want to be alone. Want to be able to socialize and not have to avoid everything having to do with sexuality. Have gotten better on it, as far as more normal comfort and management of triggers. The other response of feeling endangered by any association of sexuality with me is way way down, though still there

And it's happened. Trying to socialize in fandom. All the nightmares escaping horribly. And I don't think anyone knows. I don't know if all the pain and discomfort I'm feeling is transferring to other people. Trying. Trying not to. Though it feels inevitable. Inevitable for something to come up and I won't realize what I'm doing and how I'm feeling. And maybe the times it's happened haven't hurt people I dunno but I'm still scared of it if too many nightmares escape

(one reason not to be in large Discord servers) (I guess) (I dunno I feel like some of my existence there is a mistake)

Wishing it was easier sometimes to just talk about trauma plainly. And then people would know. And maybe I could feel more normal. And maybe things wouldn't escape so uncontrolled because I would've done so in a purposeful controlled fashion. But that's often too much for people. Even if spoken of in a serious manner that's warned for and spoilered and all that >.>

Don't want to feel like a danger to others. Too difficult a past. Too many feelings

[misscrawfords]

17+32, Catherine and Henry (Northanger Abbey)?

War AU + Pregnancy fic

My anon, are you sure about this? Because this sounds hella angsty and if Catherine and Henry are anything, it's not angsty!

So I'm really sorry for completely ruining your desire for angst here.

*

Catherine goes to war in maternity leave.

Not literally, don't be ridiculous. She's an English teacher; what on earth would she be doing in a war zone? (She did once fancy herself a member of the Royal Navy but she had been 13 and mostly inspired by going on a high ropes adventure course on a school trip. The craze had not lasted.)

No, maternity leave is simultaneously boring and freeing. Since she started as a teacher, she's never had so much free time to just think. Henry's around some of the time, of course, but he has sermons to write and parishoners to see and tedious parish council meetings to chair. She flits in with cups of tea (waddles, really, at this point) and homemade cake that they at least pretend to like. (Sometimes she likes to give in to all the stereotypes of a vicar's wife. It makes her feel strangely cosy.) But when she isn't baking, she's at war.

At war on the internet. With the dog over her feet and a cup of tea at her side.

It started with a fun looking show on Netflix. Henry pointed it out to her one evening. "It's aimed at people who really loved Twilight when they were teengers and now lead depressingly generic lives in suburbia. People like you," he added pointedly.

Catherine narrowed her eyes and didn't let on that she'd already seen the trailer. "You're going to make fun of it."

"I mean... yes... obviously, but also, I really want to see whether the Dawn Angel gets together with the..." He squinted at the summary on his phone. "Immortal Night Demon or with her high school ex-boyfriend turned firefighter, Jordan. Golly, tough choice there, right? It's going to be compelling drama - breathtaking fight scenes, symbolic dark and light imagery, the epic highs and lows of high school football. You name it!"

They binged the whole thing in two days. Henry's next sermon, on the possibility of redemption even for demons and the devil himself, had been written in a fever dream by both of them at 2am after staying up far too late on Saturday arguing over the fate of the Night Demon and other related topics.

Old Mrs. Evans was heard to mutter sourly to her daughter Carys after the service, "That'll put the cat among the pigeons, that will alright. Too much Milton, not enough St Paul!"

"I always find Milton very inspiring!" Catherine replied bravely and loyally, as she helped them to a cup of tea in the church hall. She smiled at Carys, whom she'd taught Paradise Lost to at A Level a couple of years earlier. "St Paul too, of course," she added quickly, quailing under the mother's righteous glare. "Very inspiring."

But without marking or admin or driving to and from the high school in the large town half an hour away and without groups of teenagers to debate books with on a daily basis, Catherine found herself bored.

So she booted up her tumblr once again, abandoned since teaching had taken over her life and spending time with her wonderful, clever, funny, loving husband had seemed more interesting than scrolling aimlessly through social media, and discovered to her gleeful pleasure that fandom had not changed much and neither had she.

Or so she thought. Nowadays, she realises, everyone is moralising. The prevailing view seems to be that teenage girls in fandom aren't capable of distinguishing fact from fiction, that if they want a fictional heroine to rule hell with a sexy demon overlord at her side that must mean that that's what they want in real life. That the only moral thing to do here would be to marry the nice but boring guy who's been there for ever.

Catherine is an English teacher married to a vicar. If anyone knows anything about morality and fiction, it's her. This is all sounding very similar to the male critical outrage at women's novels in the 18th century. It seems nothing ever changes except that this time it's girls doing it to each other. Catherine writes several essays explaining all of this. She gets sent death threats and called an abuse apologist.

"It's so strange," she muses to Henry, as they eat homemade Thai curry in front of the aga.

"What is?" he replies. (She's told him everything, of course.) "The teenagers sending you anonymous death threats on tumblr? Because-"

"Nah, that's just standard for tumblr. I mean, it's so strange that anyone would want Griselda to be with Jordan. He's just so... normal and not in a good way. Just always going on about football and how great he was in high school. He really peaked then and he's a firefighter so that should make him brave but he never seems to actually do any fire fighting. He just talks about it as if we're meant to be impressed. We all know a Jordan and nobody wants to date him."

She'd know. Her first boyfriend had been a Jordan. They'd dated for five minutes. (Literally five minutes. Then she'd realised she'd been asked out and not to do a singing gig. Thorpy had been so subtle as to be unintelligible. Then she'd run for the hills, more disappointed in not having her vocal talents finally recognised than in being asked out by such a bore.)

"So a literal demon is a better bet?" Henry asks. "Just asking for clarification. Next year's Halloween costume depend on it."

"He's interesting and sexy and treats Griselda as an equal. What more do you want?"

"Well, speaking as a clergyman...." Henry begins with faux pomposity as he often does, his expression very fond.

She leaves him to do the washing up and lecture the dog. (She frequently hears him discussing doctrinal issues with the dog from the other room. It's adorable. She wonders if he'll be like this with the baby too. She can't wait.)

Back in her study, she boots the kitten off her chair and settles down for a long evening of defending a fictional relationship against antis, maybe reading a bit of a 52 chapter fanfiction where the Night Demon owns a tattoo parlour in New York City, and continuing to work a little on her new scheme of work for Year 9 when she eventually returns to work. It has the working title of "Sexy villains through history and why we should stan them".

She might need to edit that before she pitches it to her Head of Department.

There's a wonderful smell coming from downstairs: Henry is spontaneously baking apple cake. If she glances behind her computer monitor to the window, the graveyard looms dark and comforting in the autumn night, illuminated just by one of the outside lights on the old church. On a cushion by the bookcase, the kitten is lightly snoring and twitches in her sleep. She feels the baby shift slightly within her.

Shipping wars and the thrill of being so engaged in a fandom once more might fill a current space in her life, but goodness, she knows the difference between fact and fiction! Why would she want anything other than what she already has? Life is good.

[clotpole-art]

Retrospective: Illustrated Merlin Alphabet Challenge

Finally finished the Merlin Alphabet Challenge, so here's the artist notes no one asked for! See below the cut for comments on each piece by order of creation. Be warned folks, it's a long post.

Before we begin: credit to @merlin-gifs for the challenge, which can be found here. It's awesome, go do it.

First thing you should know is I did probably 80-90% of these while on phone calls or in Zoom meetings and that's reflected in the simplicity of most pieces -- the compositions aren't complicated, the lines aren't refined, the coloring is slapdash. If you noticed variation in quality of the pieces, that's why!

Second: I tried to focus on trying something new for each drawing. Didn't always happen, but this challenge did succeed in helping me push me out of my own comfort zone.

Without further ado...

A is for Arthur Pendragon

Textures, baby! Brushed metal of his armor, scratchy linen texture of his shirt, wispy softness of hair and skin. I'd recently gotten my tablet out of storage after a year of figuring out where the hell I was going to live and this was one of the first pieces of digital art I spent time on. Glad it was Arthur kicking us off!

B is for the Beginning of the End (1x08)

Fun fact, I did not draw this with my tablet. I drew it with my work computer's touchscreen. It was awful, would not recommend.

C is for Camelot

I wanted to get used to different brushes, so landscape of the castle it was! There are brushes that help with drawing grass; I did not use said brushes and my wrist hurt afterward. That being said, I really enjoyed working on this and it was one of the few pieces I didn't do while multitasking.

D is for Daegal

Also drawn on my work computer's touchscreen, not my tablet. I didn't learn my lesson from B and the experience was even worse. This is my least favorite piece which sucks because it's Daegal so I'm slated to redo this sometime in the near future. Gotta do our boy justice.

E is for Elyan

Oh, I adored drawing this. Elyan often gets shafted in terms of fandom appreciation so I made sure to choose Elyan for this prompt and to participate in the Elyan fest. Plus, I love a good ghost story and figuring out a way to include the druid spectre was fun. Didn't multitask on this piece because Elyan deserved my full attention.

F is for Freya

Ho boy. This piece. I have such mixed feelings on this drawing. Really really didn't like it after I'd decided it was done and very nearly scrapped the whole thing. I had a vision in my head that I just couldn't render into reality and it frustrated me SO MUCH. Looking back, I like it much better than I did when I first created it.

G is for Gwaine

What can I say, he's pretty when he's cold. I didn't stretch too much with this one -- it's my normal drawing style, I was just trying to find a brush that mimicked the softness of pencil.

H is for Hunith

Another one that didn't stray too far from my comfort zone. I was stupid sick and slammed at work, so a motherly Hunith manifested herself. I blame the bad brush choice on the cold medicine.

I is for Isolde

I woke up and chose violence! Tried to vary my figure drawing style a little in this piece but my brain resisted, resulting in... this. Not mad at it, but not happy with it either. Poor Isolde.

J is for Juggling

Ah, this lovely piece was drawn during a particularly vexing meeting at work. Fun fact, there's another version of this line art that's less about Merlin's stress and more about mine.

K is for Knights of Camelot

Continuing the theme of doodling through bad news and shit meetings. Like I said above, normally meeting doodles aren't complex because I'm concentrating on something else. This one was more involved because I didn't want to concentrate on the meeting. I have a few issues with this from a technical standpoint (perspective, my nemesis) but it's still one of my favorites. Tried some funky coloring technique, didn't hate it.

V is for Vibrant Colors

And here is where we said fuck the rules and started going out of alphabetical order! This one was really fun to do and I loved kicking off Albion Party with this as my first submission. The colors were a challenge (as I hoped they would be) and this is the first time I had to do some color tweaking midway though and after finishing the coloring process. Vibrant Arthur, my beloved. This started as a multitask doodle but took dedicated time to finish.

O is for Old Religion

The concept for this one was buzzing in my head for a bit before a quote-prompt solidified it. I adore the thought of more visible, tangible representations of Merlin as the son of the elements, of "magic itself" -- not just sun-gold eyes, but sea-water hair and sandstone-skin. A complement to the vibrant Arthur portrait.

S is for Sorcerers

When I said I wanted to challenge myself, I wasn't kidding. Ho boy, this was fun but frustrating. I wanted to completely illustrate a gif. So I did. Will I do something like this again? Maybe. A while from now.

M is for Morgause

See above -- same illustrated gif style so at least I was able to reuse some drawings. Poor Morgause ended up looking a little wretched here because I was mentally done with this when I was drawing her. Love the concept of tarot cards + Merlin but others are doing it so I won't continue this series.

Z is for Zzzz

This one was specifically done to test out some custom brushes I made in Krita to make abstract background drawing easier for me. I think they turned out well! Plus who doesn't love bb iridescent Aithusa.

L is for Leon, P is for Percival

Quick, minimal doodles of the boys! Mentally, I was going for a Brady's-style retro ensemble cast TV show credits feel. Not mad at it! Some boys look closer to their actors than others (I think my brain broke drawing Percy, my apologies to Tom Hopper).

T is for Tristan

It wasn't until after I posted this that I realized there was more than one Tristan in Merlin. Could have drawn Isolde's bf but I drew Ygraine's dumb jock undead brother instead. Had some fun with dark greys and blacks here regardless.

Q is for Queen Annis

Best royal in Albion, bar none. I tried a different coloring technique here and I kinda like it! may make it my go-to but we'll see. Old habits are hard to break. Also: our queen deserved more badass clothes.

X is for Arthur X Merlin

Oh, be still my shipper heart. Doodled and colored during a meeting. I had hoped to spend more time on it outside of multitasking but alas, work is a bitch. This one is slated for a rework sometime in the future; I adore the concept too much to let it go without creating another version of this that isn't an utter mess.

U is for Uther's Ward

And here's my attempt at forgoing line art. Not fun, do not like.

Y is for Young Warlock

Channeled some pain into this one. Those are the dead eyes of someone who had been told that he'd succeeded when his friend died. That the destiny he'd been expecting to carry on his shoulders into old age was done and dusted before he turned 30. Grief plus the existential dread of the aimless immortal. Oof. One of my favs.

N is for Nimueh, R is for Rising Sun, W is for Will

And we end on this sorry offering. I was away from home for a while without my tablet and I just got tired of waiting. So, pen doodles at the airport. This was a challenge in its own right because 1. pen only and 2. I wasn't able to pull Netflix up for a reference on the fly. Which is why Will's face is obscured and Nimueh looks.... not like Nimueh lol.

In summary: this was a goddamn joy to do. I finished 26 letter prompts in approximately 21 weeks, which exceeded my own unspoken goal of filling one letter per week. I found a good, happy corner of the Merlin fandom after a years-long hiatus away from being a fandom creator. If you did make it this far with me, thanks for reading my inane comments and giving this little project even a moment of your time -- I'm so grateful.

[missorgana]

words hung above, but never would form

pairing: bucky barnes/sam wilson

fandom: mcu, what if...?

rating: mature

word count: 3500

warning: swearing, alcohol, major character death, blood, guns

summary: What might've happened after the zombie apocalypse broke out, before the last team of heroes was formed, and how Bucky Barnes lost Sam Wilson. (pre-canon fic to what if... zombies!?)

(a few days ago i posted this very painful angst fic i thought of after the zombies episode of what if...? so here i am dropping it on tumblr as well!! i apologise, please know that it broke my heart to write this. uhm. that’s all!)

read on ao3

It’s been three months since they lost Steve.

Well, since the world lost most of the Avengers, really. And since the world lost most of its, uh, regular people anyway.

It’s a dark world full of shit and blood and brains out there now, yet Bucky’s taking his cold shower in the morning and cannot bring himself to care much. Sounds harsh, he knows.

He knew nothing of this new world and new time except his best friend, so of fucking course, Steve being… not Steve made him feel like there was no fucking point to anything. If the Avengers couldn’t beat this zombie virus? Yeah, there’s no hope for humanity anymore.

Except… except the man who greets him in the morning, handing him a plate of pancakes without even asking if he wanted some and pinning yet another red pin on their vastly growing map of ghost towns. Those are fully infected spots, by the way. Nothing left but the undead. The map is turning overwhelmingly red overwhelmingly fast.

The man hovering at said map also hands him his coffee, puts on one of the records from their LP stash, and smiles his sunny, stupid grin before ruffling Bucky’s hair and telling him he missed a spot.

Yeah, the world’s become even more of a dog eat dog world than before.

But Bucky Barnes’ got Sam Wilson. And nothing else matters.

*

It’s ironic really, that when he’s gotten out of cryo, that he’s finally rid of the Hydra programming and torture and pain he’s endured for years, and at the same time, someone somewhere got bitten and humanity’s become a walking all you can eat buffet. Perfect timing.

Of course, Steve’s never fled from a fight in his life, so honestly? Bucky can’t exactly say he’s surprised. He is- sorry,  was  an Avenger after all. The little shit.

What does surprise him, however, is finding himself growing closer to Sam, Steve’s friend who for some reason, somehow, was just as intent on finding him as Steve was. And… helping him. Saving him.

Bucky never understood why. He still doesn’t. He hates himself for everything they made him do, he’ll probably continue hating himself for as long as he lives, no matter how much he tries to suppress it, but Sam doesn’t. 

Sam fought for him, fought with him, visited him in Wakanda and took him back to a somewhat normal life before… you know. Now they’ve found a safehouse after losing everyone they had, except each other, and they’ve zombie-proofed to the best of their ability.

And life with Sam, well, Bucky could get used to it. In fact, he gets used to it very quickly.

Sam smiles so easily at him and doesn’t look at him like he’s a broken man who needs to be fixed. Sam doesn’t look at him with resentment, or pity, he just… looks at him. 

It’s hard to explain.

Thing is, nothing makes sense. The violence that keeps on going and going doesn’t make sense, Bucky losing his best friend in the world doesn’t make sense, the streets being abandoned and houses vacant and survival being a constant factor in life now doesn’t make sense.

But the man he’s hiding out with makes sense. He makes so much sense. The only thing that makes sense anymore.

His existence is constant, he’s there for him when he lets him and when he doesn’t, he gives him space. The shorter man is as if the sun was living and breathing, and himself, well, he’s the moon. He’s just trying to stay in Sam's orbit.

Chasing after him. Circulating. Bashing in everything he’s willing to give him.

The scruffy beard he’s let grow, and him humming to himself while he’s working on Redwing, and the wheezing, carefree laugh he can’t stop when Bucky suggests they watch a zombie movie one night. He tells Sam not to overwork himself and he promises not to, and the other man tells him to let him know what’s going on in his head, and hell, Bucky tells him. He tells him everything.

In fact, it’s the same night they  do  watch a zombie movie, frequently pointing out the inaccuracies and turning it into a drinking game with the terrible, terrible booze they swiped from the supermarket, that he looks at the short haired man dozing off on his shoulder and realises that this is the most peace he’s ever had.

It’s basically an apocalypse outside, but Bucky can’t get himself to look away from Sam’s eyelashes fluttering lightly as he slips off to sleep.

Their legs are tangled into each other on the coffee table, the microwave popcorn long abandoned, one of his friend’s hands resting on his thigh.

His beard scratches his shoulder, but he doesn’t mind. Sam has asked him if he should shave it several times, but God no, never. That beard’s been doing a lot of things to him - all good, of course.

He turns down the volume a bit. Sam looks peaceful. He hasn’t been sleeping much, he knows neither of them have, and where’s the time for it, anyway? He’s glad he is now.

Bucky can’t get himself to move, fearing waking the short haired man from his slumber, and for a minute, the outside world is far, far away from their reality.

Sam looks incredibly soft in that ripped sweater and sweatpants and the snore he lets out is no less than adorable.

It’s like- he looks at this man, and suddenly it’s like everything just falls back into place.

He looks soft in the morning over breakfast and hazy eyes, soft in the evening when he says goodnight, soft when he’s clutching the photos of his nephews (AJ and Cass were their names, he’s learned), soft when he’s retelling a memory with his parents on the family boat, soft when they both muse about Steve and his dumb shenanigans.

He looks something entirely different when he’s shirtless out of the shower and tiny droplets still fall down his chest and abs and Bucky struggles to breathe, every damn time. He only realises now why that is.

Sam is like a sunset, because Bucky wants nothing more than to wake up to this man and nothing else every day, till the end of time. What more could he wish for?

He’s beautiful. Bucky doesn’t think he’s called anyone, or anything beautiful before.

Looking back, he can’t see anymore how they could argue and bicker and annoy each other, and doesn't understand why. He’s wasted so much fucking time doing that. Not anymore. He could never go back to that, it would most likely kill him. Steve would be thrilled if he could see them now, wouldn't he?

And while this realization dawns upon him, washing over him like the biggest wave you could possibly imagine, he wonders if Sam feels the same when he looks at him.

Does he feel safe falling asleep on his shoulder like this? Does he find everlasting comfort in his smile like he does in his, does he wake up hoping and praying to see his smile, just once? Does he do everything he can think of to make him look at him, like he tries every single day?

He can only dream.

Huh. So this is what it’s like to be in love. Bucky doesn’t hate it.

*

It’s only a month after his life-changing realization of the sort that couldn't make him concentrate on everything else, that Bucky decides today is the day. He’s going to confess his feelings for his friend.

And this is something in the middle of chaos, something he’s never experienced before. He’d never thought he’d practice his words in the mirror like a nervous teenager, but alas.

Sam Wilson, I’m in love with you.  No. No, it’s too short. Think, James. What does he make you feel?

Sam, you’re the last thing I think about when I go to sleep and the first thing I think about when I wake up. Sam, I want to see you smile every day. Sam, I want to make you happy… as happy, as… happy as you make me.

Too long? Shit. 

Sam, you’re the only good in this piece of shit world. I love you. Sam hates when he’s that pessimistic, though, and always tells him to cheer up, even in the middle of a zombie invasion. Another reason why he loves him.

Sam, there’s nothing I wouldn’t do for you. Nothing I wouldn't do to see you happy. I want to spend the rest of my life making you happy.

His stream of thought is interrupted by faint clanging in the kitchen of their safehouse. Bucky sighs. He’s not sure this is going to be perfect, he wants it to be.

He has to go, he has to try. Now or never.

Except… the smile he’s come to anticipate every single morning isn’t there to meet him. Instead, he sees Sam suited up, wing pack on his back, gloves on, looking through one of their many folders they’ve filled up with theories of the infection and safe spots and danger zones and everything else.

Bucky frowns, looks at him in silence for a moment. Maybe he’ll try a joke, “Going somewhere?”

His friend hums without looking, “I’m going to catch Steve.”

Sorry,  what? What the fuck? 

Sam did not just say what he thinks he said. He didn’t. He couldn’t have.

This is why he blinks in disbelief, for the first time rendered speechless by the other man. Sam looks up at him, face glazed over by determination and confusion by his own reaction, most like. Then, worry overtakes his usually warm, deep brown eyes, ones that he could drown himself in and never come out of.

“You okay, Bucky?” he asks, and Bucky clenches his jaw.

“You’re going to… catch him,” he says, a statement rather than a question. It’s Sam’s turn to frown, but he nods.

“Yes. Catch him and bring him back.”

“You’re joking,” he laughs in sheer denial, but the seriousness in his friend’s face is scaring him, “Sam… tell me you’re joking.”

“I’m not.”

Oh, this is just not happening. This world lets him fall in love with the most perfect person he knows and then lets that very same person be so fucking stupid?

Bucky can’t let him go. Bucky can’t lose him.

“What, then?” he asks, one hand on his hip, “Invite him over and let him eat our brains, just like that?”

“ Bucky. We’re going to catch him, and then we’ll cure him.”

He laughs, loudly. Okay, this is just hilarious. Sam Wilson is the most perfect person in this world exactly because of this- because he believes this world is still able to be saved. Because he believes it’s  worth saving . Fucking hell. 

“You found a cure you’re not telling me about?”

Sam sighs, scratching his chin, “Come on, Buck. I talked to Hope-”

“Who?”

“Hope Van Dyne. The Wasp,” the shorter man explains, “She lost her parents, and Scott Lang, remember?”

Bucky shrugs, but nods.

“Well, she’s been recruiting those of us who survived. Who’s left. And she thinks there might be a way to reverse the virus, her father brought it from the, uh… Quantum Realm.” Sam’s about to hand him one of the folders, but he crosses his arms, and shakes his head, then.

God, Bucky’s well aware how stubborn he is. Sam has told him plenty of times.

But he’ll be damned if he lets the man go just like that. He’s not letting him get hurt.

“That’s not happening,” he says shortly. His friend’s frown deepens.

“I’m sorry?”

“You’re not going after that thing.”

The man turns to him completely, wide-eyed and shock written all over his features. “ That thing? ” he huffs, “That thing is our friend.”

“Not anymore, Sam. I’m not letting you get yourself killed by the undead.”

“He’s not dead,” Sam says. His voice raised. He looks- he doesn't look soft anymore. There’s no trace of that smile that gives Bucky shivers down his spine. He looks… upset. He’s upset. Fucking shit.

Why can’t he-  fuck , can he not try to be a fucking hero right now? That’s why Steve’s gone. Why can’t he see that?

“You’re being irrational,” Bucky tells him, feeling the anger rise within him,  this is not how it was supposed to go, stay with me-

“Oh, I’m being irrational?” Sam laughs, sarcasm evident in his voice, “There might be a cure. We might get Steve back, Buck. And I can take care of myself, you know.”

“I know, but-”

“But, what?” he sighs, again. The irritation is flowing between them, Bucky’s freaking out, and above all, Sam looks… he looks disappointed.

This is the worst he’s felt in his whole fucking life. He can’t disappoint the only person that matters to him. Yet he did.

“What if Hope’s wrong, Sam? It’s pointless, most of the population’s infected anyway, it would take forever to get everyone-”

“You’ve got that little faith in me?”

No. No no no.  Sam, no. I love you. I love you so much it pains me to see you like this, I never meant to hurt you, I didn’t-

“We’ve lost too many, Sam!” he finds himself yelling, none of the words scrambled in his brain making it out. He’s the most stupid of them, obviously, not that he wasn’t aware. “I know you believe these people can be saved, and your hope is incredible, but can you please… not go?”

“I’m an Avenger, Bucky. It’s what I do. It’s what Steve did.”

“It’s what got Steve turned.”

This seems to be something Sam has to ponder over, because a rather uncomfortable silence settles between them. His friend’s eyes soften somewhat, but his teeth are still gritted, as are his own. Would be inappropriate to confess his undying love to the other man now, wouldn’t it?

“I do believe they can be saved,” his friend eventually speaks up, “I believe that because I  need  to. I lost my parents, Sarah, Steve, Natasha. I have to try.”

See, that makes sense. Another reason why Bucky fucking loves him and wants to kiss his stupid fucking face and beg him not to go. But he doesn’t.

“It’s too risky, Sam, it’s not safe.”

“I told you, I can take care of myself.”

Bucky holds in a whine, embarrassing,  desperate , “I know you can! You’re a fucking hero. You’re one of the best, Sam, you are. I wish I was that brave, I just-”

“Then why won’t you let me do this?” his friend asks in frustration, “Why won’t you let me try?”

I can’t lose you. “Because I lo-”

The words are interrupted by a loud bang. Sam closes his mouth immediately, tight-lipped. Bucky’s mouth hangs open, voice disappearing. Another bang. Then a moan reaches them from somewhere far away.

Their eyes widen in synchron as they look at each other, eye contact unwavering. They both know what that sound means.

Someone’s coming in. Someone not human.

*

Whatever’s found them, it’s on the roof, and it’s trying its hardest to get in, so Bucky’s got to shut his mind off and get ready.

Not only is he stupid enough to start a fight with Sam, they also get discovered by one of the zombies. Fan-fucking-tastic. They run to opposite ends of the safehouse, trying to locate exactly where the intruder’s at.

Bucky follows the sound into the hallway, past the bathroom, while Sam stays behind in the kitchen, machine gun pointed at the ceiling. He could not have picked a worse time to speak his feelings than today, could he? Well done, James.

And as if this day isn’t already bad enough, he can’t hear the groaning from the roof anymore.

“Sam!” he yells, because it doesn’t matter if the brain-eater hears them, “I lost it.”

“I hear them,” his friend yells back, prompting Bucky to make his way back, adrenaline pumping, feeling the sweat running down his back, “They’re on- Bucky! Buck-”

A crash. The biggest fucking crash he’s ever heard. Silence.

No.

“Sam?!” 

“I’m here,” he hears the other man’s coughing, “It’s Steve. It’s Steve! Steve, hey, okay, now stay right there-”

Bucky’s officially panicking. This is not happening.  It’s not .

He’s running so fast he stumbles over his own feet. At the same time, he feels as if he’s frozen on the spot. He’s not sure what’s real anymore.

“Sam, I’m coming-”

Sam  screams . And Bucky’s heart is torn out of his chest and smashed onto the floor.

It’s the most earth shattering scream Bucky’s ever heard. It reaches him and goes inside every bone in his body and clouds his vision and makes him want to scream in anger.  Sam. Sam. Sam. I need him. I need you.

Yet, when he reaches the living room, he sees nothing at first but rubble and smoke. The roof’s broken down. And in the middle of it, a figure is huddled over another lying on the floor, eerily still.

No. This isn’t real.

He might even convince himself he’s dreaming, he really might, because his vision is still clouded, and his teeth are still gritted so hard he bites the inside of his cheek, until the figure turns around and he’s met with a familiar face.

Steve Rogers.

But it isn’t his Steve, it could never be, because this Steve? This one’s a walking corpse. Sickly pale skin and blood between his teeth and red eyes looking back at Bucky with no memory or remorse. And on the floor-

On the floor… on the floor- He can’t be. He’s- Sam is-  Sam .

“Sam,” is all Bucky can say, feeling like a broken record. His voice breaks, and the undead fucker in front of him doesn’t move an inch.

Sam is bitten.  My Sam. I love you. I love you so fucking much and that’s why I didn’t want you to go, you perfect idiot, I love you-

He’s clutching the machine gun too hard, his knuckles are turning white, but he can’t do anything.

“That’s enough, Steve,” he finds himself addressing him. It doesn’t faze the thing in front of him, but that’s not surprising. It’s not his friend anymore, “Enough.”

Then a moan sounds, but it doesn’t come from Steve’s mouth. The figure on the floor rises, slowly. Sam Wilson. But he isn't his Sam anymore.

Sam looks at him. There’s nothing in his eyes, they’re empty. No warmth, no safety, not anymore.

He’s gone, but he can’t make himself believe it.

The thing that used to be his friend… the man he’s in love with, the man he wanted to spend every day with, every day for the rest of his life, if only he’d let him, that monster that’s destroyed the most beautiful soul on this shitty earth, hollowed him out and taken his body,  that monster groans again.

Then, both figures move. The fuckers are moving in one direction, and that’s towards him.

They’re not fast, Bucky backs away, but his eyes are soon clouded by hot streams of tears running down his face. He can’t hold them back. He can’t control himself. He can’t control anything, not anymore.

So he raises his gun, “Sam,” he whispers, well aware no one’s going to respond, “Sam, I’m so sorry. This is my fault. This is all my-”

He squeezes his eyes shut, ready to fire all the ammo he’s got into his two undead friends, but he opens them again, looks back at them. They’re hungry. They’re still moving.

Bucky can’t breathe.

He wipes at his tears angrily, looking back and forth between those two dead fuckers and hovers his finger over the trigger, but he can’t… he can’t. He only realises in this second. He can’t shoot.

They’re not themselves anymore  , he reminds himself.  They’re gone.

But Sam’s warm voice full of peace and sunshine and lazy laughter and fleeting, shy touching of hands pops up in his head.  That thing is our friend. He’s not dead. Those things are your best friend and the love of your life, James.

The zombies keep coming closer and Bucky bites his tongue.

“Shit.”

He lowers his gun, and because he doesn’t know what else to do, he knocks over the coffee table, then the TV, then the potted plant that Sam loves-  loved so much, and runs as fast as he can, not looking back. He hears more crashes, the distraction hopefully successful, but doesn’t slow down.

Bucky escapes out the back door, jumps in the car and pushes the speeder.

Sam Wilson, I’m so in love with you, I can’t think about anything else. You’re the only one for me. I love you. And now you’re gone because of me. I didn’t get to tell you.

He doesn’t know what to do, or where he’s going, except- he needs to find Hope Van Dyne. He has to.

[novelist-becca]

Not Fragile

Fandom: The Owl House

Rating: Gen

Relationships: Eda Clawthorne & Luz Noceda

Summary: “But don’t you still think I’m too weak and fragile to be a real witch?”

“Wha- no, of course not, Luz. What gave you that idea?”

AO3 link

FFN link

“Hey.”

Luz looked up from her phone to see Eda standing in the doorway. She held Luz’s Grom crown in her hand and a concerned look on her face. 

“Hey…” was Luz’s only reply. Even after that amazing dance, even though it was over, the last thing she wanted was Eda’s criticism or even pity. But she closed the window and scooted over to give her some room anyway.

Eda placed the crown on top of the chest. “Had to get it off of King while he was asleep. ...And him off me.” She said with a chuckle. “Anyway, thought you might wanna talk about what uh, happened?” added Eda as she sat on the windowsill beside Luz. It may be outside her comfort zone, but Eda disliked seeing her apprentice this...down.

Luz’s shoulders tensed and she looked away from her mentor. “I know, I know, you told me so.” She grumbled. “I know I was stupid, okay?” Luz clenched her fists. 

Eda was taken aback. Was she really that hurt by her statement that afternoon? “What? No, no, that’s not why I’m here at all.” She tried to reassure her. But Luz still looked glum. “I wanted to say that I’m proud of you after tonight. You and that Blight kid did amazing.” Luz only relaxed slightly. “I know I said it before, but you did good.” Eda concluded with a slight smile.

Finally, the girl unclenched her fists and sat up straight. She inhaled. “Thanks.” She said. Then she looked at Eda. “But don’t you still think I’m too weak and fragile to be a real witch?” Honestly, Luz appreciated the praise, but it still didn’t feel like Eda believed in her. But the older witch looked surprised and shook her head.

“Wha- no, of course not, Luz. What gave you that idea?” Eda asked. Yes, she called Luz fragile earlier, but she didn’t mean it like Luz was weak. In fact, she has so much potential as a witch, despite being a human!

Luz gave her an incredulous look. “You said I was fragile. I didn’t just fight Grom because I didn’t want Amity to get hurt, I wanted to prove you wrong. I thought I could, but I guess I messed that up too.” She finished with a sigh and looked away and said under her breath, “Just like I mess up everything else…”

“Luz…”

“That giant illusion of you that was outside when I was training? It said I was inadequate. I know it wasn’t real, but maybe it was right.” Luz slumped in her seat, avoiding Eda’s eyes once again. Her expression didn’t change. “And I still proved you right, didn’t I? I went overboard again, and you almost had to save me. I’m sorry.” Luz remembered the embarrassment she felt when she ran from her worst fear...like a coward. Everyone on the Boiling Isles thinks humans are weak, and she just proved their point. 

For a moment, Eda didn’t say anything. So, one of Luz’s fears was...disappointing her? Not being good enough? Well, as much as it hurt, Eda couldn’t really blame the kid for thinking like that. But it’s not as if she didn’t believe in her.

“Luz,” Eda began. “I…I didn’t mean it like that. I don’t think you’re weak, or inadequate, or stupid, or anything like that! I just…” She put a hand on Luz’s shoulder. “I didn’t want you to get hurt by running headfirst into danger again. I’m sorry that I made you think that.”

Luz met her mentor’s eyes again. “I still ran, though. Like a coward.” 

“You’re not a coward, Luz, you never were.” Eda sighed. “Look...King was right. I was too hard on you. Clearly I was wrong. You’re talking as if you didn’t defeat Grom, but you did. Look- look at it this way! You could defeat Grom, you just needed a push from a certain someone.”

Luz thought about that. She’s not wrong. She defeated Grom with Amity, and in the coolest way, too! “Yeah, guess you’re right.” She said with a fond smile. A part of her wonders how Amity is handling things.

“You see?” Eda said with a smile. “I’m so sorry I ever doubted you, Luz. Now, you didn’t disappoint me. In fact…” She kneeled down in front of Luz and put both hands on her shoulders. “You made me proud. So don’t beat yourself up just because you couldn’t face your fear on your own. You of all people should know it’s okay to have help.”

Luz responded by smiling and putting a hand on one of Eda’s. She was right. True, she wasn't ready to fight Grom, but she had help in the end. It doesn't make her weak. She knows that.

“And…you’re not that fragile, okay? I remember how you saved me and King from multiple monsters. I just wish you didn't face this one. You’re brave, and I respect that.” Eda admitted.

“Thanks Eda.” 

“But don't take this as an excuse to keep running into danger, okay?” Eda added. She swears this kid’s gonna be the death of her. 

“Hah, no promises…” Luz muttered. 

“And don't think you'll never be a real witch. You…you have a lot of potential.” Added Eda. 

With that, Luz wrapped her arms around the witch in another one of her tight hugs. As usual, it surprised her, but she awkwardly patted her head.

“Thank you, Eda…I needed to hear that.” The girl mumbled into her mentor’s suit.

“Eh, don't mention it.” Eda said. And as they pulled apart, she hesitantly asked, “Do I want to know what you saw back there?” After that mushy heart-to-heart, maybe it would help Luz to talk about it?

Luz looked to the side, thinking. “Mmm…” Eda had reassured her that she's not weak for not facing her worst fear, but she was afraid of what Eda might think if she said it was her mother she was running from. 

No, Luz thought. Didn't you just face her earlier by actually texting her? If you can get over that, you can talk to Eda. You can trust her. 

“It's okay if you don't want to right now, I'm sure it's--”

“It was my mom.” Luz admitted. 

Eda took her spot next to Luz again, ready to listen. “Your…mom?” A part of her worried that Luz’s mother couldn’t be a good person if she's her kid’s worst fear. 

“Okay- well, technically, I don't fear her, just…her finding out I'm not in the human realm.” Luz said, trying to find the right words. God, when she thought about it, Grom is like a form of messed up therapy. Like that one show back home about a magic train. But at least Grom doesn't force you to stay aboard if you don't prove you're ready. 

Is that why Principal Bump made it a school event? Therapy? Luz put that thought aside for later.

“Well…you say she doesn't know you're here. Where does she think you are?” Eda encouraged. 

Luz continued. “Remember the first day I came here, when I said 'I'm not going to summer camp?’”

“Yeah?” 

“So…my mom wanted me to go to this summer camp to uh, help me separate fantasy from reality. I took something too far at home, and I think it was her way of trying to make me ‘normal’.” Luz said, rolling her eyes making quotation signs with her fingers. 

“Heh. Sounds a looot like the conformitorium.” Added the older witch. 

Dammit, Eda, not helping. She knew Luz was weird, Hell, Eda was weird too, but it doesn't make sense to send her away. Even if Eda was more than happy to have Luz here. 

“It does. But I know she was doing it for my own good. I think she just wanted me to have real friends. I just don't wanna know what she’ll think if she finds out I'm lying to her.” Luz thought back to the texts she sent to her mom. Technically she wasn't lying when she said she liked it here and the longer text she sent before Eda came in, but still… “If she knows I kept a secret from her, who knows what she'll think of me? Of this place?”

Eda thought for a moment. She never asked about Luz’s personal life before, but now that she knows a little bit, it feels like a piece of a puzzle fell into place. 

“…I may not know her, but I don't think she'll hate you for not telling the truth. I know I wouldn't.” Eda said. 

“You mean it?” 

“‘Course I do. I meant everything else, too. Don't doubt that.” She said reassuringly. Luz responded with another awkward hug, and the events of tonight must've finally caught up to her because the kid’s eyes were starting to droop when she pulled away. 

“Alright, how about we both settle in for the night, kiddo? You look tired.” Eda pointed out. 

Luz yawned and nodded. “Mmh. Good idea.” 

Eda stood up and headed for the door, but not before saying, “And Luz, if you ever need to talk, about anything…I'm here. I'm no good at this kind of stuff, but I wanna help.” 

“Thanks, Eda. For everything.” Luz answered with her usual genuine smile. And with that, Eda left and closed the door behind her. 

Luz has no idea how much she means to her and King, but Eda will make sure to let her know.

[holylulusworld]

Danger Zone

Summary: Both brothers want you - a pleasant dream, isn’t it?

Pairing: Sam x Reader, Dean x Reader

Warnings: angst, language, smut, unprotected sex, voyeurism, dom!Sam, light degrading, mentions of plan b, comforting, a hint of choking (not really), plot twist

A/N: That’s the end of the story. Read Part 1 & Part 2 first.

Divider by @writeyourmindaway​ <3

Over the last days, Dean and you walk around the bunker as if you are walking on eggshells. Whilst Sam tries to bond with you again, Dean tries to stay as far away from you as possible.

Just like now. Sam offered to prepare breakfast to break the tension, but Dean just grabbed a slice of toast and almost ran out of the kitchen.

“I should be the one acting strange,” Sam huffs, watching you poke the food with a fork, not eating. “Maybe we should talk to Dean again. He was a demon and…”

“It’s not just that, Sam,” you sigh, meeting your boyfriend's gaze. “I think he’s disappointed as I took plan B. I heard him mumbling something like ‘not worth being her baby’s father’. Do you think he hates me?”

“Y/N, the last days were not a sexual adventure you wanted on free terms. Even though you enjoyed it,” clearing his throat Sam plays with the veggies on his plate, “the demon forced you to a certain point.”

“I can’t be mad at Dean,” while you play with your food Sam grasps for your hand, squeezing it tightly. “It’s not as if I never imagined having sex with your brother. I am an awful girlfriend, Sam. How can I have dirty fantasies about your brother?”

“Baby girl, come here,” Sam rounds the kitchen island to bring you in his arms. He is just holding you, not caring you wet his shirt with your tears or that you press your body desperately to his warm chest. “I love you, okay. No matter what you will decide, I’ll always love you.”

“I love you too but,” sniffling you look up at Sam, giving him a sad smile, “I can’t help myself when I am close to your brother. I don’t know if it’s love or lust. I am confused…”

Sam’s large hand curls around your throat, letting your heart race. You feared Sam will never touch you again, give you what you need, but he’s determined to show you that even though his brother touched you, you are his girl.

“Look at you, baby girl,” Sam purrs behind you, a smirk on his lips feeling you swallow thickly. “So needy, so ready to get me inside this tight little cunt.”

“Sam, please," desperate to feel Sam you push back onto him, rubbing your slick cunt against his throbbing length. “Baby…”

“No begging, Y/N. You know the rules,” you whine, still, you shut your mouth, waiting for Sam to fill you. “My girl needs a thick Winchester cock to fuck the neediness out of her.”

No one would ever assume Sam is a dirty talker or a kinky bastard in the bedroom. He is always soft and caring around others but here he is, enjoying the fact he has you at his mercy, all strung out.

“Please,” you beg again, earning a slap to your ass. “I need you,” Sam slides his length through your folds, holding back the need to just fill you. “I want you…”

“Do you want me?” He husks against your ear, squeezing your throat a little, just to make you feel he is in control. “Is that what you want. Exchanging one brother for the other again?”

When he slips the blunt head inside you fall back against his chest, pressing the back of your head into his shoulder. “Good girl, such a good girl,” his cock splits you open, filling you perfect to bring tears to your eyes.

“So good,” you whimper, writhing on his length whilst Sam holds you to his body, not moving an inch. “Sam, please. I’ll be good.”

“You will,” Sam purrs into your ear, nibbling at your ear shell. “I know you’ll always be my good girl. Now,” the first thrust makes you cry out. Sex with Sam always teeters on the edge of pain, the good kind of pain. “Just relax, Y/N.”

“I want to feel you, Sam,” you are flat on your belly seconds later, Sam doesn’t give you time to take a breath before he’s back inside of you, not caring you will feel him for days. “Please.”

Dean is pacing around the hallway. Moments ago, he wanted to talk to his brother and you, now he must listen to your moans whilst his brother calls you his girl.

“His girl, never mine,” mumbling the words Dean presses his head against the door, even though the noises you make for the wrong brother let his heart clench in his chest. “Never mine…”

“Sam,” your body jolts toward the headboard with every powerful snap of his hips.

Sam is wild tonight, like an alpha ready to mark his territory again. “Take me, baby girl. All of me is yours. Can you feel me in your belly?”

You would answer Sam but the way he holds your hips in a tight grip, his cock slamming into you and the fact you heard Dean call your name outside the room presses nothing but cries and moans out of you.

“Yeah, I think you will come for me. Maybe we invite Dean to watch and use this tight pussy too,” you can hear the anger in Sam’s voice but he calls for his brother before you can answer. “Come inside and watch her getting fucked, Dean.”

“Sam,” you fist the sheets, try anything to keep the approaching high at bay. “I want to cum,” Sam hums watching his brother walk into the room. “There he is baby girl. Now ask Dean to let you cum.”

“Please, D’, I need to cum,” tears run down your cheeks. Your body craves the toe-curling and earth-shattering release, but the elder brother looks at Sam, a smirk on his lips. “Please?”

“I don’t know, sweetheart. Did you earn it? Did you tell Sammy you’re sorry for fucking his big brother?” you nod eagerly, giving Dean your sweetest pout, the one he cannot resist. “I think she deserves to cum, Sammy.”

“You heard Dean,” another thrust and another dirty word leaving the brother's lips and you are a goner. You shiver feeling Dean fist your hair roughly while his brother still pumps into you as if he wants to break you tonight.

“I-uh, god,” you look at Dean, never breaking-eye contact whilst his brother pushes you over the edge. Dean steals the silent scream with his lips, smirking as he can see Sam slip out of you to cum all over your ass.

“If you go in bare, pull out. We don’t need little Winchesters yet,” Sam smirks, slapping your ass before he leaves the bed. “She’s all yours, brother.”

“My pleasure,” Dean grins, while you cannot process your boyfriend just offered you to his brother, the demon he wanted to kill not days ago. “I’ll be gentle, sweetheart. Just fuck the neediness out of you.”

Dean crawls onto the bed, growling your name and your world turns upside down when your boyfriend sits on the bed to watch his brother slide home in one go.

“That’s our girl, look at her, Dean,” Sam praises a soft smile on his lips. You nod eagerly, feeling lightheaded. Your vision becomes blurry and before you can bring out a word you lose consciousness.

“Y/N? Y/N?” Celeste pats your cheek. “It’s normal to pass out before a wedding.”

Looking up at your friend with wide and fearful eyes you swallow the lump in your throat, remembering the man who waits at the altar, the man you chose over the brothers years ago.

“I…I don’t feel good,” you get up to run toward the exit of the church, panting heavily as the door flings open and two men enter the church. “Sam? Dean?”

“We didn’t want to miss the wedding,” Dean stammers, not meeting your eyes. “I know we never talked after Sam came to the motel room, but I thought.”

“I…I mean we decided we should at least say ‘hi’ and congratulations,” Sam clears his throat, hiding the aching in his heart.

It has been two years since that night, the night Sam freed you. You ran, and never looked back, but here and now you look over your shoulder at a man you barely know waiting for you to become his wife. “I…I need to get away from here, boys. Do you know a place to be?”

“Sammy, I think we are stealing the bride,” Dean grins watching his brother pick you up to throw you over his shoulder.

“Sorry, but we are on ‘stealing the bride duty’, dude. I mean, enjoy the cake and all. I don’t think she’ll be back anytime soon,” you squeal when Sam starts to run after his brother.

“We will never let you go again, baby girl. You’re ours,” Sam pants, looking over his shoulder as your fiancé decided to chase after the brothers.

“Well, hurry up and we can talk about anything else later. I got a few bags hidden in a motel room outside of town,” giving you a wink Dean grins at your words.

“I suggest we get out of the danger zone first…”

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[mekana47]

Fanfic Ask Game

Thank you to the lovely @catholicnicky for tagging me in another delightful fanfic ask game.

With absolutely no pressure, I’ll tag @beepbeepsan @rupzydaisy @thatpratdragonlady and anyone else who wants to play

How many works do you have on AO3? 14

How many fandoms have you written for (and what are they)? On AO3, I have 12 works for The Old Guard (with one 2019 Aladdin crossover), 1 for MCU/Agents of Shield, and 1 for All for the Game.

But I probably also have 20-ish fics on an old Livejournal that I never cross-posted when I finally got an AO3 invite, and another even older 20-ish fics on a ff.net account, which would add quite a few more fandoms-- though they’re mostly The Losers and X:Men: Evolution, respectively.

Are there any new fandoms you want to write for? I’m still having fun with The Old Guard, but I do have an outline for a James Bond fic taking up far too much of my daydreams and a Tenet PWP I want to polish and post eventually.

What are your top five fics by kudos? Hold Tight (TOG Mission Fic) Scene by Scene (TOG Modern AU, WIP) Planning Makes Perfect (TOG Mission Fic, Outside POV) Rapid Boiling (TOG A/B/O Mission Fic) I’ll Chase Them Anywhere (TOG x Aladdin)

Which of your fics do you want more attention for? I know comments and kudos depend on a wide variety of factors, so I don’t take it personally when one thing isn’t as popular as something else, and solo movie fandoms lose momentum so abruptly. So… maybe my newest fic then? Fixing the Stars (TOG Mission Fic in Space).

Do you respond to comments, why or why not? I try to respond, but I am inconsistent and very, very slow at it. I like seeing what stands out to readers, and sometimes answering the questions makes me look at my own stories in new ways. Also, leaving comments on other people’s fics is one of my favorite things to do.

What sorts of things do you normally write? By that list above, apparently, I write a lot of Mission Fic. I genuinely hadn’t realized. I also do hurt/comfort or more precisely ‘someone is trying to hurt me but I will endure/they don’t know this is part of my plan.’ I also love team-as-family, particularly ‘I don’t/didn’t know how much the team cares about me.’

What’s the fic you’ve written with the angstiest ending? None of my AO3 fics have an angsty ending. One Minute More might come the closest in that it’s hurt with little comfort because it was left open for a sequel that never came together. But for what the fic is about (Canon Divergence, Sexual Assault) it’s really not an angsty or even ambiguous ending at all.

What’s a fic that pushed you out of your comfort zone? Definitely all of them in different ways. There’s always that last moment second-guessing before I post, and then I avoid reading comments for the first while. If I have to pick one… Doing the outside POV for Planning Makes Perfect was certainly a fun challenge, and I’m constantly shocked at its reception.

Do you write crossovers?  What’s the craziest one you’ve written? Yes, but rarely and none of them seem that crazy really. My only crossover on AO3 is The Old Guard x Aladdin (2019), but pre-AO3 I did an NCIS x White Collar and a Leverage x Burn Notice. I also have an old The Losers x The Expendables draft I never finished.

Have you ever had a fic translated? No.

Have you ever co-written a fic before? Yes, although it was a Round Robin with four other people, so we had no influence or input on anyone else’s chapter.

What’s a WIP that you want to finish but don’t think you ever will? I live in eternal hope that I will finish all of them, although some of my drafts are from fandoms I’ve hardly thought about in a very long time, so I’m almost certainly lying to myself.

What are you currently working on? I’m constantly working on editing the next chapter of Scene by Scene.

I was so focused on finishing my chapters for the Round Robin and then my gift for the Andromaquynh Secret Santa that I haven’t picked up any other one-shot in quite a while. Perhaps it’s time to finish poisoning Booker?

What are your writing strengths? This is a tough one. I get a lot of comments about how I write relationships: romantic, familial, and teammates. I like writing dialogue, and I can be funny when I’m not trying to force it.

As far as my writing practice, I type fast and make very rough first drafts, and then if I can make it to the end, I can make it make sense in the editing/rewriting. I do ruminate on fics for a while after the first draft, so I can make sure the motivations make perfect sense and characters’ actions follow from there. 

What was the first fandom you wrote for?  Most recent? Gone in 60 Seconds. I posted a prologue for a sequel to the movie on ff.net and then immediately abandoned it to play with the X-Men. I would’ve been 13, I think?

Most recent is clearly The Old Guard.

What’s your favorite fic you’ve written? This is an impossible question. Name any of my fics, and I can tell you why it’s my favorite.

(And if I absolutely had to answer, I’d pick a fic about The Losers comic-verse I wrote when writing fics in the style of Richard Siken was a trend. But it isn’t on AO3, so that isn’t a fair pick— although… maybe it should be there?)

What fic are you most proud of? Again, name any of my fics, and I can explain why I’m proud of it.

The first that came to mind this time was I’ll Chase Them Anywhere (the TOG x Aladdin crossover) because it was a kinkmeme prompt with a general concept and a few specific moments. I was stuck on an ending for quite a while until I realized I needed to figure out why these events were happening and make the backstory make sense before I could figure out how things changed by the end. I’m happy with the explanations and motivations I landed on.

[ninthfeather]

Fanfic Review

Thanks for tagging me, @sapphireswimming!

How many works do you have on ao3?

80! There are a few older works on FFN that I haven’t ported over yet, but most of my fic and certainly everything written in the past few years is on AO3.

What’s your total ao3 word count?

506,547, and I’m not sure if I’m proud or not.

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

I’ve written fics for a total of 31 different fandoms, which seems like a lot. But I’ve written more, longer fics for some than I have for others. In general:

Several fics/longer fics: Gundam 00, Detective Conan/Magic Kaito, Fullmetal Alchemist, My Hero Academia, M*A*S*H, Jibaku Shonen Hanako-kun, MCU, Persona, Sherlock, The World Ends With You, Critical Role, Arknights, FFXV, The Untamed, Tsubasa Reservoir Chronicle, Code Geass, Kingdom Hearts, 

Only short oneshots so far: VLD, Yoru no Kagi, Christopher Nolan’s Batman, Higurashi no Naku Koro ni, Sarashinohara, Kanata Kara, So I’m a Spider So What, Fruits Basket, Danny Phantom, The Magnus Archives, Harry Potter, The Umbrella Academy, Puella Magi Madoka Magica

Are there any new fandoms you want to write for?

So my current main project is a Genshin Impact longfic, but I’ve also got WIPs for Jujutsu Kaisen and Neon Genesis Evangelion.

What are your top 5 fics by kudos?

Down Time [BnHA oneshot]

aim to repaint these days [The Untamed oneshot]

Adjustment [DCMK oneshot]

We’ll walk upon these streets (and think of little else) [KH/MCU crossover chapterfic, I’m listed as co-author but @hawk-in-a-tree is doing most of the writing now]

Steeplechase [DCMK chapterfic]

It always surprises me how much better oneshots do than chapterfics when it comes to kudos. Also, the fact that a fic from this year (the one for The Untamed) passed several fics that have been online for years really speaks to the power of big fandoms.

Which of your fics do you want more attention for?

So, in general the fics that get the most attention for me are more governed by the size of the respective fandoms than by how good the fics themselves are. Fics for Gundam 00 just don’t as much attention as fics for BnHA because less people are in the fandom. So, like, I’d love more people to read my Gundam 00 and Arknights fics, but really what that means is that I want more people in those fandoms.

Do you respond to comments, why or why not?

I try to but I get overwhelmed really easily and like everyone else I’ve had a lot going on this year, so if I didn’t respond to your comment, please know that I did read it and appreciate it.

What sorts of things do you normally write?

I write a lot of crossovers, a lot of outsider POV fics, a lot of found family stuff, and a lot of hurt/comfort, especially emotional hurt/comfort. Recently I’ve been leaning more heavily into writing fics about disability as well.

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

So despite generally preferring “angst with a hopeful ending,” I’ve written a surprising number of downer fics. In terms of what happens in the ending, the angstiest ending is in “drink in all of this apocalyptism,” the PMMM/Umbrella Academy crossover fic I wrote. You’re probably not gonna be shocked to hear that it involves an apocalypse. In terms of the ending that is written as being the most bleak, I’d say it’s a toss-up between “I’ll Call You Tomorrow” and “to somehow escape the burning weight.”

What's a fic that pushed you out of your comfort zone?

Speaking of “to somehow escape the burning weight,” I was not comfortable writing even the implication of two characters sleeping together. Unfortunately, while I am very, very ace, the characters are not and it became clear that if I wanted to write them interacting at their respective points in their character arcs, they were going to want to make bad decisions together. I had to figure out how to structure the fic so that I didn’t feel out of my depth but the characters were still in character and still had the interaction I wanted.

Do you write crossovers? What’s the craziest one you’ve written?

I write a lot of crossovers! I’m not sure what the craziest one I’ve written is, to be honest, but I think the FMA/M*A*S*H fic, “A Recurring Nightmare with Popcorn,” wins if for no other reason than because I committed to that crossover.  Most of my other odd crossovers are oneshots, but RNwP is long enough to be a short novel.

Have you ever had a fic translated?

Yes! Surprisingly, it’s “the memories you want to forget are hostages,” which isn’t all that popular in English! It’s on Ficbook in Russian here.

Have you ever co-written a fic before?

Several times! As mentioned above, @hawk-in-a-tree and I worked on These Streets together, though I kinda stepped back and let her take control on later chapters. There are also a few other fics we’ve collaborated on that aren’t ready for publication yet.

It’s been a while, but my friend miladyRanger also co-wrote fic with me often. We have four fics (one for FMA and three for DCMK) posted over on FFN under the penname miladyFeather.

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

I have a BnHA WIP that needed major revisions after the Dabi backstory reveal; I don’t know if I’ll finish it or not but if I do it will probably take a while.

What are you currently working on?

Like I said above, I have a WIP longfic for Genshin Impact that I’m really excited about. It’s not done yet but it’s already pretty long, so I’m hoping I can make it through that final stretch.

What are your writing strengths?

I think I’m pretty good at writing interesting, relatively natural-sounding dialogue, foreshadowing, and establishing tone.

What are your writing weaknesses?

I’m crap at remembering continuity—not just of canon works I’m writing fic for, but also within my own longer works. Avoiding cliches and remembering to describe the setting are both areas I’d like to improve in. Also I have a bad habit of leaving fics unfinished.

What was the first fandom you wrote for? Most recent?

The very first fic I wrote was a xxxholic crackfic; the most recent fic I published was for Persona 3.

What’s your favorite fic you’ve written?

It’s hard to say? I love several fics for different reasons. I think “Riddle in Reverse” and “I love it when a plan comes together” would definitely be on the short list, though, because they were fun to write and they’re fun to reread.

What fic are you most proud of?

If I’m being honest, I’m probably proudest overall of “Riddle in Reverse”—it’s a solid fic, it got much more popular than I expected, and I love getting reviews from people who are a mixture of happy and angry about the twist.

Tagging: @sleepdeprivedfemale, @kaedahara--kazuha, and anyone else who’d like to do this!

[fandom-necromancer]

Ghosts of the past

This was prompted by an awesome anon! Enjoy!

Fandom: Detroit become human | Ship: Reed1700 (Warnings: implied past abuse, manipulation, mentioned forced drug intake, drug abuse)

[Part2]

‘I don’t feel too good about this…’ ‘Me neither, but I can’t think of any other way, unfortunately…’ Nines swallowed, looking Connor in the eyes. It was hard to look into these eyes when he normally was the one telling Nines to forget about the mission for a while. Whenever Nines sunk a little too far into his comfort zone of code and orders, Connor was there to remind him he didn’t had to follow it. He was allowed to indulge in his emotions and listen to his wants. Now that their roles had changed it really made him think about how compromised he really was with this particular case.

‘Nines, we need that confession. You know that.’ ‘I know Connor!’, the android yelled with frustration. ‘I know, but I’m not sacrificing Gavin’s mental state, health or career, just because some criminal decides to play with us!’ Connor sighed. ‘Do you think I want that? Nines, he matters to me as much as to you, I’d rather die myself than see him hurt. I’m just saying we should ask him and not decide for him just because that makes us more comfortable.’ Nines sighed, nodding. ‘His sense of duty will make him say yes.’ ‘Maybe, but it will be his decision. He’s a grown man and we will be there for him should anything happen. Come on.’

Gavin immediately shit was about to go down as both androids exited the interrogation room heading his direction. Both their LED’s were yellow bordering to red and knowing just who sat behind that door, Gavin knew exactly what must have happened. Still, he tried to look optimistic: ‘And? What did you find out?’ Nines looked aside, arms crossed over his chest, while Connor put up a fake grin that should be calming. So they both were disagreeing about their way of action. Gavin wouldn’t dare saying he knew what was going on in their heads most of the time, but he could read their emotional state like nobody else. ‘Not much’, Connor answered him. ‘He refuses to speak with anyone but you.’

Gavin swallowed and lowered his head. ‘Well phck’, he cursed, accepting his fate. ‘Guess I’ll go talk to the asshole then.’ ‘You don’t have to’, Nines immediately stated, taking a step forwards when Gavin stood up. ‘You don’t have to talk to him.’ ‘Nines, I have to if we want to get a confession, right?’ ‘He didn’t say anything about confessing’, Connor corrected. ‘Just that he doesn’t want to talk to anyone but you.’ ‘Yeah, well, that’s basically the same thing, isn’t it?’, Gavin huffed determined. ‘It’s been years, I think I can talk to the asshole if it means I won’t see him for a long time, because he’s locked up. I’ll manage.’ ‘We’re right in the next room observing’, Nines tried to reassure him, knowing arguments wouldn’t help. ‘Then I’ll try to give you two a show, huh?’, Gavin joked and took the lead towards the interrogation room.

He heard the others following him and tried to keep his composure for as long as they saw him. He knew they worried about him. Hell, Gavin worried about himself. It had been a long time since he had last seen David Smith and he wouldn’t have complained if more years had been added to that. And his confidence in his ability to keep calm and professional around him was fragile at best. But they needed that confession and Gavin would get it. No matter the cost.

He took a deep breath before opening the door and entering the room. He didn’t spare the man sitting across the table any mind, sat down and slammed the file on the table in front of him. ‘Your name is David Smith, is that correct?’ He stared strictly on the papers in front of him. ‘Yes.’ Oh that phcking voice. That goddamn soft voice that reminded him of all the times this stupid phck had him wrapped around his finger. If he could, he would have thrown up already, but as it was, he kept up his neutral façade. ‘State your age and occupation.’ ‘Thirty-nine. Freelancing salesman.’ Gavin could hear the asshole’s sly grin in his words and narrowed his eyes. ‘Come on, Gav. Why so stuck-up? Not happy about seeing your man?’ ‘You will address me as Detective Reed, Mr. Smith’, Gavin commented sharply. ‘And I’d appreciate you staying on topic. Does “freelancing salesman” include the producing and selling of illegal substances by any chance? We found copious amounts of drugs, mostly Red Ice and cocaine in your flat. Additionally, there have been accounts of eyewitnesses depicting you handing over those substances to others. The evidence clearly speaks against you, but a confession might increase your chance at a decreased sentence.’

‘You’re still as beautiful as I remember you.’ Gavin felt himself shudder but ignored the goose bumps in his back. ‘Mr. Smith, I doubt you understand the situation you are in.’ ‘Hmm… all professional, aren’t we, Gav? I remember I could get you to be pretty unprofessional in a matter of seconds.’ Gavin couldn’t help but look up. It had been a mistake, as the man’s grin widened, and those eyes captured him once again. ‘Ah… So you remember too.’

Gavin sighed and closed the file. ‘Why the phck did you refuse to speak with my partners? David, we’re over and done with. The years with you were some of my worst and there is no way I will ever want that back.’ The man smirked at him. ‘So they are your partners? I thought so, they’re your type. Tall and strong enough to put you in your place…’ Gavin ground his teeth and stared at David with eyes that could kill. ‘Are you selling drugs again? Who are your suppliers? Who do you keep around to test your phcking new creations on?’ ‘Come on, babe, you were more than just that for me.’ ‘I asked you a question asshole. You said you’d talk to me. I’ve yet to hear a single word that’s worth the air.’

David leaned back and grinned. ‘Oh, please Gavin. You pretend to be so high and mighty. You can’t put me behind bars. In fact, I know I will be walking free in a matter of hours.’ ‘And why should that be?’, Gavin asked. ‘Charlotte 2.0.’

Gavin’s eyes widened and he had to hide his hands beneath the table because they were shaking too much. In one quick motion, he took the file and left the room. Only to sink against the closed door as his knees gave in. Not much later Nines and Connor came running to his side. ‘Gavin! Are you alright? What the hell happened in there?’, Connor asked, obviously scanning his vitals. ‘Who… What is Charlotte 2.0?’, Nines asked. Gavin concentrated on breathing first, speaking second. ‘We have to let him go’, he whispered desperately. ‘We have to.’ ‘What? Why?’

Gavin stood up and walked away from the door. ‘Charlotte was an android. Non-deviant. His fail-safe. Remember how I never wanted to tell you how I got out of that relationship? I killed her. Killed her and ran, moved and stopped talking to anyone I knew. Deleted all accounts and made new ones.’ ‘You did what?’, Nines asked. ‘Yeah, she was just a machine, okay? It was the only way out. I… David is anything if not prepared. Charlotte had the single task to gather as much information as she could. That means he can notify any gang, any lab, drug den or dealer in the city they have been compromised. With a single word from him, she can make every current operation in narcotics null and void with everyone alarmed.’ ‘Then why did you kill her?’, Connor asked. ‘Because she also keeps tabs open on everyone dear to the people he wants to keep in line. I’m not an idiot, I realised what I had fallen into a week after we first met. But I could only run years later because she was dead and couldn’t hold my family and friends at gunpoint in secret.’

Connor and Nines stared at each other. ‘So we need to find the android he uses this time.’ Gavin shook his head. ‘I doubt he will be dumb enough to make the same mistake twice. I’d guess Charlotte 2.0 is a program ready to unleash all the gathered information if something goes wrong.’ ‘Then what do we do? Search his apartment again?’ ‘Would be a good start.’

Less then twenty minutes later, Gavin, Nines and Connor sat in a car driving towards David’s apartment. ‘You did good in there’, RK900 suddenly broke the silence. ‘I worried for you.’ ‘We both did’, Connor added. ‘But it’s good you decided to go.’ ‘I just want to end this shit’, Gavin sighed. ‘I don’t want to think back to it, and I’ll sleep the hell of a lot easier knowing the asshole is behind bars.’ ‘Couldn’t put it better’, Connor nodded. ‘You want to come with us?’ They had parked the car and Gavin looked up to the apartment complex he knew far too well. ‘Yeah, I’ll come. Don’t like it a bit, but I might be of help.’

They exited the car and made their way up using the shitty rumbling elevator Gavin despised. Not only that you had to fear the damn thing giving in any moment, the memories of how he had been slammed against a wall, barely conscious with the bastard’s lips all over his body… No, he refused to think of that. He refused to think of anything but him being here to put an end to it all. He felt two reassuring hands on his shoulders as the door opened and gladly let them exit first, following the two androids towards the apartment Gavin had never wanted to see ever again.

In the end it didn’t look too different to what he had gotten to know: the flat was messy, clothes thrown around, empty mugs and take out containers stood on the kitchen counters and table. The dead plant that had been Gavin’s company throughout many drying-outs from some experimental drug high, still stood on the windowsill rotting and gathering dust. ‘Would you rather wait outside?’, Connor asked, but Gavin shook his head. ‘No. Thank you, but we need to find Charlotte 2.0. I’ll help.’ They systematically went through every corner and every drawer. Gavin found a few disposable phones he couldn’t activate; Connor was long sitting on the couch interfacing with a laptop while Nines was somewhere in the bathroom.

Gavin was waiting for the next phone to charge enough so he could try to get to any contacts or other data on it. He tried to concentrate on his task, but waiting hadn’t exactly sat right with him for most, so he ended up lost in memories he hoped to rather forget. Two years of his life just gone and wasted. Who knew how many years of his life the drugs had taken from him? The lies he had told. The things he had done to keep David safe. No, to keep those dear to him safe. He looked up at Connor. Did David know of his relationship with Connor and Nines? Did he know how happy he was with them, how much he loved and needed them? Was Charlotte programmed to cause them harm too? He didn’t want to imagine what would happen would they not find whatever failsafe David had thought up this time. If they had to let David go. Phck, no, they had to find it. They-

‘Nines!’ Connor had stood up and placed the laptop on the kitchen counter next to Gavin. ‘I found something, but you are better at this.’ RK900 hurried out of the bathroom and joined their side. ‘Better at what?’ ‘At breaching the security measures. I think I found this Charlotte 2.0, but I can’t access it. It’s protected with a password and I can’t get past it. The system looks everything like an android mind to me. Or at least the security is similar. I can’t get in.’ ‘Okay, let me try.’ Nines reached for the laptop to interface and Gavin watched how his LED spun faster and faster as his brows furrowed. It only was a matter of seconds, but that alone should have told Gavin something was wrong. When the android stepped back desperately looking at the computer-screen asking for a password. ‘I can’t get in either. We need the password.’

‘How many tries do we have?’, Gavin asked. ‘Three’, Connor supplied. ‘We can’t just trial and error the solution.’ Gavin stared at the keyboard, then turned around to look at the apartment. ‘Try Gavin Reed.’ ‘What?’, Nines asked. ‘Darling, we can’t just try it out.’ ‘Listen’, Gavin sighed. ‘I wasn’t the only one David tried his drugs on. But it… It was personal with me. In some twisted way, he really loved me. Why else pull such a damn stunt? He could have just moved to a different place and continued on with his business. But he stayed, he kept dealing right under our noses after I left. The asshole wanted to be found. And we don’t exactly have much time. Try my name, if it doesn’t work, we still have two tries left.’

Nines stared at him unmoving, but Connor took the chance and typed in “Gavin Reed” Then he hit enter. The screen cleared to give access to code Gavin didn’t understand. But from the way Nines and Connor interfaced with the device immediately he took it had worked. ‘It’s deactivated’, Nines stated, stepping back. He looked at Gavin, who had pulled his arms around his middle and looked to the ground. ‘Thank you, Gavin. Let’s get this Laptop to the police and then go home.’ ‘Forget this all’, Connor said, when he pushed the laptop shut. ‘Sounds good’, Gavin sighed tiredly and closed his eyes as both androids pulled him in a deep hug. ‘Sounds phcking perfect.’

[>next part]