#any piece of work I’ve written or drawn that I’m really proud of

[panthermouthh]

Starting a new job next week 🫣

[birinboom]

you already know how much I adore your work on Jing Yuan

but what was your favorite piece to write? why? was there a specific string of words or description you particularly enjoyed or are proud of? is there any specific part of your writing you really hoped would pop out to people? was there some dialogue you particularly enjoyed writing?

is there any part of your process you enjoy and would love to talk about? like just, I want you to talk about the love you poured into your work with pride! 💚

The way I’m still crying about the comments you left on AO3, they’re such a treasure to me 😭

I’m sorry I took so long to answer this. Whenever I get an ask that requires me to think I always feel like my brain exits my skull and slinks down my spine to hide somewhere behind my spleen. I can’t think. Did I write something? I suppose so. How did I feel beyond frustration? No clue ¯\_(ツ)_/¯ What were we talking about?

It took me a while to encourage my brain to come back so I could answer this a bit more seriously. I even put everything in a google document so I could work on answering without losing my progress to tumblr being a buggy bastard

What was your favorite piece to write? Why? There are a few that come to mind. I wrote a sci-fi/post-apocalypse drabble for BnHA’s Bakugou, which is one of the quickest pieces I’ve ever written. 1.2K in about 2 hours after lying awake all night thinking about the story, then insta-post. No time to fret, just shove it out the door. Good luck out there! 👋 Despite how short it is I felt like I got a lot of lore into it

Another one is ‘Heat Haze’ (KNY, Rengoku Kyoujurou x f!reader). It’s the longest fic I’ve written to date (16K) and a lot of it just flowed. The most trouble I had was tying a few scenes together, which is always one of the last things I work on. I remember frequently writing 2-2.5K in a day, which is a lot for me

And then there’s ‘The Luck-Bringing Cat.’ Simultaneously one of the best and worst experiences. Best because I was so caught up in the Apothecary Diaries AU I wanted to write, I kept thinking about it, new scenes, exact expressions of the characters. But the dialogue nearly killed the whole fic. I’ve come to realize that I am not good at writing dialogue for Jing Yuan. He’s too eloquent, I’m so much more comfortable with low-brow dialogue. I listened to Jing Yuan’s voice lines over and over. I re-read the Apothecary Diaries light novels so many times in an attempt to mimic some of Jinshi’s dialogue, since he has that same eloquence. I was so close to crying and bashing my head into my desk several times when all I had left to write was the dialogue. And yet I want to write more for this AU. ‘Cause I still love it so much. Thanks again to @a11eya for beta-reading it for me. Without you I might actually have given up

Was there a specific string of words or description you particularly enjoyed or are proud of? I wrote a fic for BnHA’s Yagi Toshinori x f!reader a few years back, and the description of Reader’s Quirk is what comes to mind

(Brief explanation to people who aren’t familiar with the BnHA universe: a Quirk is basically a superpower which most people of this universe are born with. It can be as powerful or as mundane and effectively useless as you can imagine)

The train exited the tunnel and Toshinori’s eyes flicked back to the view he had been staring at; a soft, golden glow on the horizon, a glow that only he could see. He had always been drawn to it, like a moth to a flame. It was comforting, it was home. It was you. Your Quirk, Burning Heart, made you emit a golden light only visible to the people who you loved. Toshinori had used it as a beacon leading him home ever since the first time he saw it. He didn’t know what he would do if that light ever went out - if he wasn’t worthy of your love anymore.

Fun fact, Burning Heart is based around a Danish song I love a lot, called ‘I’ll Leave the Lights On’ (Jeg Vil La’ Lyset Brænde)

I’ll leave the lights onAnd leave my door ajarLook, my heart glows in the nightSo you can find your way home

Is there any specific part of your writing you really hoped would pop out to people? I think it’s always the unspoken words, the ones characters convey through actions because they’re too scared or worried or too drunk on love to say them out loud in the moment. The ones that leave the reader-insert wondering ‘am I reading too much into this?’ The ones that make you want to shake them and shout ‘NO YOU’RE NOT, YOU IDIOT! HE LIKES YOU!! 😫’

Was there some dialogue you particularly enjoyed writing? I’m not entirely sure it counts as dialogue since it’s from a letter. It’s also from a KNY fic I’m still working on, so don’t go looking for it!

Make sure to keep warm; though the birds sing of springtime, the wind still bears the breath of winter.

I always love when I can get just a lil’ bit poetic. I know it’s a contrast to what I said about writing dialogue for Jing Yuan, but I can handle a sentence here and there no prob! Much beyond that, though, and my brain fries 🤯

Is there any part of your process you enjoy and would love to talk about? It’s probably the initial planning stage. It can be like solving a puzzle for me, to fit scenes together, spending hours mulling everything over, and then thinking of a new scene that would fit perfectly! Or maybe the new scene doesn’t fit at all and I have to figure out how to make it fit. Throw thought-spaghetti at the wall and see what sticks

It’s even better if I can share the process with friends so we can scream about it together. Sometimes I feel like I ought to share it more than I do, allow people to enjoy it with me. I’m too shy though 😬

Thanks again for sending me such a wonderful and thoughtful ask!! It gave me an opportunity to really reflect on my writing, something I don’t do enough 💖💖💖

[jilyarchive]

MAY AUTHOR SPOTLIGHT: OHMYGODSHESINSANE

Q: Where can we find you and your stories?

A: @ohmygodshesinsane​, AO3, FF.NET

Q: How would you describe your writing style?

A: Ooh, this is hard! I love writing a bit of banter but it’s the psyche underneath that I’m really drawn to, and the characters – I think of myself as writing about characters or relationships more than scenarios or plots. I like to hone in on the little moments rather than the big showstoppers. I’d rather write about the aftermath of a battle than the heat of it, and I love the mornings-after, the space between a confrontation and a revelation, and the first shared laugh rather than the first kiss. Maybe that’s the perfectionist in me coming out – I get nervous writing those big events, I get worried I’ll muck it up. And I love a party scene too. There’s something about the chaos that brings the important things into focus.

Q: How do you come up with ideas for your writing?

A: Honestly, other books and fics! I’ll read a romance novel and think – now, what if Lily and James had a conversation like that? Oh, and this could happen – and maybe Sirius did that bit – and instead of x, a and c happen. My real life does inspire a lot of it too. If I need to work through something, I’ll pull it to pieces in a fic. Or someone will tell me a story and I’ll think, ‘oh my god, I need to write something like that’. And it becomes something completely new by the time the writing’s done. I love prompts, too, I can’t get enough of them.

Q: When and why did you begin writing fanfiction?

A: I wrote my first fanfiction when I was around seven years old in a literacy lesson, and it was maybe three paragraphs based on The Lion King 2. Towards the end of 2010 I started writing HP fanfiction and in 2012 I started writing marauders and Jily fanfiction. I loved reading but I had a short attention span – I’d always start wondering, ‘but what if this happened? What if so-and-so did this instead?’, and I’d go scribble my ideas down. I could never watch movies all the way through because I’d run off to go play-act my own version of the story. And so it really just blossomed from that. I’ve spent over half my life writing fanfiction and I can’t imagine doing anything else with my free time.

Q: What’s one thing you’d tell someone who is considering reading one of your fics?

A: Thank you so much! It’s all homemade and written with love.

Q: What are some of your favorite Jily tropes?

A: I love a slow burn, if that counts. Otherwise probably Enemies-to-Friends-to-Lovers, Anguished Declarations of Love, and Forced Proximity in any way, shape or form. I love it when there’s a little angst mixed in there. And of course Quidditch Player/Professional Athlete!James x Journalist!Lily. It’s one of my absolute favourite AUs.

Q: What do you like most about the Jily fandom?

A: The Jily fandom is so friendly and welcoming! Never before have I felt so much like part of a community. People are so great about reading and commenting and sharing the love, and I love all the events we have. It’s very active and close-knit. It just has this truly lovely atmosphere.

Q: Pick a favourite Marauders era character.

A: Goodness, I have to go with Lily! She’s probably my all-time favourite to write, because I feel there’s just the right mix of canon information about her and things that are only hinted at that can be fleshed out. I could read character studies of her all day.

Q: Self-promo time! List the fics that you are most proud of writing.

A:

creature comfort��– This fic has been with me through thick and thin since I first started writing it in 2017 (!!) and it’s been so fundamental to me re-engaging in fandom and improving my writing skills. It’s been quite the undertaking to write but I love carving out the world word-by-word, and it’s been such a crucial tool for me to build the world of HP as I see it and to get a sense of James and Lily and the rest of the gang’s characters.

baby it’s cold outside – My first (proper) smut fic which I spent ages worrying over and crafting. I love how it came together in the end. It’s essentially an AU with Quidditch Player! James, Journalist! Lily Evans, and only one room left… with just one bed.

Mercy – This is a more recent one, and a fic written almost entirely by accident – I intended for it to come in at about 300 words and it wound up nearing 3000. With every line I wrote I felt I was discovering something new about the story and about the characters, especially Lily. The process of writing it was really special, and it took me on a bit of a journey. It was difficult but enjoyable. As for the story itself, it’s a Jily Lives! AU from Lily’s perspective – a bit angsty. 

Q: Fic rec time! Could you recommend a few of your favourite Jily fics?

A:

The Life and Times by Jewels5 – This was the first Jily fic I followed along with update-by-update and it was what really cemented my shipping of these two. I reread it every year or so and find another layer to it that completely unravels my heart.

We Have Buried the Putrid Corpse of Liberty by @mabeltothknows​ – I am very late on reading this but I am loving every chapter. I can’t help but adore anything Jily and Married at First Sight and this fic combines them perfectly. It has so much heart and humour and the multimedia aspects bring it to the next level. 

i let you into the garden of my loneliness by @theesteemedladydebourgh​ – The prose is so beautiful and every emotion is so tangible in this one-shot, and it really does have my entire heart. It’s truly a masterpiece and well worth the read.

Thank you @ohmygodshesinsane​ for chatting about your fics with us! ❤️

[bookwormscififan]

Strange, But Not Entirely Unpleasant

A/N: A little piece I wrote for my friend @jellyfishdooter for their "Give Chase a Boyfriend" movement. I paired Chase up with an OC of mine who is very dear to my heart, Pat, a fallen angel from my WIP 'Surviving Sin'. Enjoy!

Feel free to send an ask here or to my author blog @sarah-a-c-author for any clarifications on Pat.

--

Pat walked through the park, hands in his hoodie pockets as he scanned the faces of people he hardly knew, scouting for proud souls to reap. His hood was pulled up to cover his lilac hair, sunglasses perched on his nose to cover his eyes, and he walked with a slight hunch to seem as inconspicuous as possible.

It was his job as both fallen angel and head of the Pride department of the Seven Deadly Sins Reaper Unit to scout out souls to reap, a potentially eternal punishment for his moment of pride after a lifetime of seclusion and a betrayal that led to his death. His back still ached some days in the places his beautiful wings used to be. At least you’re doing something. You aren’t wandering in Purgatory for all eternity. You get to come here, watch the humans work.

He paused as he spotted a man sitting on a bench, talking on the phone in his hand with a frown. Pat tilted his head, twisting his neck slightly to tap into his powers, scanning the man for signs of pride and only finding sadness. He furrowed his brow, noting the edge of frustration in the man’s voice as he ended his call.

Curious, Pat strolled to the man’s bench, sitting some distance from him and looking at the ground. He tapped the toe of his shoe against the dirt, absently drawing small patterns as he plucked up the courage to speak to the mortal.

“How do you get those points so sharp?” Maybe I don’t have to find a way to speak to him. Pat glanced up, seeing that the man was watching the patterns he had been drawing. He cleared his throat, taking a hand out of his pocket to push his sunglasses further up his nose before shrugging.

“I don’t actually know,” he replied, stopping the movements of his feet. “I guess I just tilt my foot to make sure the points stay sharp? The pattern’s no good if it’s curved in the wrong places.” He shrugged again, looking at the man and holding his hand out. “Name’s Pat.”

“Chase,” he offered, taking Pat’s hand and shuddering at how cold it was. “Cold hand. Are you cold? Do you need another jacket? That hoodie seems far too thin for you.” Before Pat could say anything, Chase had removed his own jacket and wrapped it around Pat, rubbing his shoulders to warm him up.

“T-Thanks,” Pat stammered, mind blanking at the kindness Chase was offering him. “I-I’m not cold, I just have a lower body temperature than you, but you’re really kind.” If his face wasn’t so pale, Pat swore he’d be blushing.

“Can I get you a coffee? I just… I think I need someone to talk to.” Chase looked at Pat with bright eyes, hands on his knees as he waited for Pat to answer. Pat looked at the pattern he’d drawn on the ground, biting his lip as he recognised it as the symbol for ‘pride’, then swept his foot over it to erase it before glancing back at Chase.

“I’d appreciate that.” Idiot. When was the last time you drank anything remotely human? “You can talk to me; I’ve been told I’m a good listener.” He smiled, standing up and following Chase through the park to a small coffee shop.

Pat hesitated as the realisation set in that he’d have to remove his sunglasses to seem ‘normal’, and he focused his attention as he blinked a few times, then took off his glasses and caught the brown eyes looking back at him in their reflection.

“What will you have?” Chase asked, looking at Pat with a smile as they reached the barista, holding his wallet out to pay. Pat looked at the menu, stomach churning at the various names of drinks written, and he opened his mouth before he’d thought of something to say.

“I’ll have what you’re having,” he blurted, internally kicking himself for his answer, standing silent as Chase ordered and waved him to a table to wait. As he sat down, Pat tugged his hoodie sleeves over his hands, poking his thumb through a hole he’d worn into the cuff before lifting his hand and biting his nail.

“You know, biting your nails isn’t usually healthy for you,” Chase said with a chuckle, reaching across the table to tap on Pat’s wrist, making him stop chewing to look at him. “You seem nervous. Is everything okay?”

“Ye-Yeah,” Pat said, lowering his hand and tapping his foot against the ground under the table. “Just… been a while since I did something like this.” More like never. Like you ever sat and drank coffee with that boy you liked in your life. Too busy hiding and avoiding death.

“Hey, Pat,” Chase said quietly, leaning over the table to send Pat a soft smile, “It’s just coffee and lending a listening ear to someone. It doesn’t have to be more than that if you don’t want it to. I could tell you all this shit that’s happening to me, then you can walk out of this shop and never see me again if you want.”

“That sounds… that sounds nice,” Pat said, dropping his gaze to his hand when he felt Chase reach out to hold it. He opened his mouth to say more, then paused when their coffees got delivered, giving the barista a curt nod before looking at Chase again. “Did your troubles have anything to do with your phone call?”

Chase let out a dramatic sigh, holding his mug of coffee between both hands and staring into it like it had all the answers. “I’m in the middle of divorce proceedings,” he started, sighing again before lifting his head to look into Pat’s eyes. “She wants to take everything with her.”

Pat tried not to show any emotion on his face at the mention of Chase’s wife, ignoring the slight stab in his heart at realising this man maybe wasn’t who he thought he was, then nodded his head to prompt Chase to go on.

“I loved her once, and I could almost swear she loved me,” he said, waving a hand in confusion. “I don’t know where it all went wrong. We’ve got two beautiful children, a boy and a girl, and she’s got her dream job. I just can’t shake the question of whether it’s me.”

“What do you mean?” Pat asked, sipping from his mug and hiding his grimace at how strong the coffee was, swallowing it down with effort and opting to fake drinking for the remainder of this meeting.

“I promised her the world,” Chase explained, looking back at his mug, eyes going from a bright blue to the same grey as the colour of the sky when it rained. “I worked my butt off to pay off our mortgage, I even juggled two jobs to pay for childcare while she found her roots in her job. I started making internet videos to make some side cash.” He looked at Pat, and Pat inwardly flinched at the exhaustion showing plain on Chase’s face, his energetic mask finally off.

“Making those internet videos opened my eyes to new things. The feelings I had toward guys I found attractive were valid, even though I was sure I deeply loved her. Well, she found out and basically outed me to everyone, pawning me off as some kind of weirdo who couldn’t make up his mind.” The circles under his eyes seemed to grow darker, making his eyes almost sink into his face, and a tear rolled down his pale cheek.

“She divorced you… for liking other guys?” Pat struggled to understand what Chase was saying, mind flipping from one conclusion to another. Idiot. You found the guy that is far more advanced than anyone in Hell ever was. You have a knack for finding things further ahead than you.

“She divorced me for more than that,” Chase chuckled, leaning back and sipping from his coffee, mask back on. “I wasn’t spending enough time with her or the kids. I was too lazy. I wasn’t making enough money. At some point in the last five years, she stopped loving me.”

“Where I’m from, it’s difficult to understand divorces,” Pat started, picking at the dry skin around his fingernails. “Most people got married for security, like financial gain or status. Love isn’t usually a concern.”

“Maybe I should have gotten married for status,” Chase said with a bitter chuckle, looking into Pat’s eyes with an emotion he couldn’t identify. “My kids don’t deserve everything that’s happening between us.”

“When there’s trouble in a relationship,” Pat said quietly, reaching across the table to hold Chase’s hand, “The children are usually the most affected. I believe you’re trying your best to keep your children safe, and you’ll ensure that they won’t be too hurt from this whole problem.”

Chase smiled, squeezing Pat’s hand and finishing off his coffee, running a hand through his hair and heaving a heavy sigh. Pat watched as his carefree mask slipped again, his tired face returning to show the true Chase.

“How are you so kind?” he asked Pat, hooking his lips into a crooked smile. “Everyone always sides with my wife, telling me it’s my fault that we’re going through these divorce proceedings.”

“It’s not your fault that you learned more about yourself,” Pat defended, tapping his fingers over Chase’s palm. “Life is all about learning, and if you aren’t learning new things, then you aren’t living.” If you aren’t learning about yourself, you’re being too proud and thinking you know everything, and that summons me.

“I… never thought about it like that.” Chase pulled his hand away and stood up, signalling that it was time to go. “Do you… want to walk for a bit?”

“Sure.” Let’s hope Greg doesn’t come looking for you. You’ve got a quota to fill, Pat. “I’d love to.”

--

“Have you been in town long?” Chase asked, hands in his pockets as he walked beside Pat.

“You could say that,” Pat answered with an awkward laugh, scratching at the back of his neck. “My job has me travelling all over the place a lot. I’m in places for some time before I have to go back to my boss.”

“That actually sounds like a really fun job,” Chase said, kicking at a rogue stone on the path. “Does your boss fund the travel expenses?”

“Yeah…” Not that I actually travel so much as I take an elevator up to the areas. “It is nice some days to just have some free time, though.” He shoved his hands into his pockets, ignoring the faint ringing in the back of his mind signalling one of the Reapers was trying to contact him.

“That’s true,” Chase agreed, keeping pace with Pat and tossing a small plush ball between his hands. “Though I do wonder sometimes if too much free time is a bad thing. Where’s the limit? A day off feels too short, but a week off is too long.”

“My job has me working almost all week,” Pat said slowly. “I get one or two days off, and that’s about the free time that works for me. You just need to find a happy middle.” Or complain about how sore your back is so the King of Hell will let you off for an hour or two.

Chase hummed, looking at the ball in his hands and giving it a short squeeze. He twitched his nose slightly before looking back up at Pat, seeming comfortable to show him his true state of mind, with his hollow eyes and downturned lips.

“Have you ever been married, Pat?” The question caught Pat off guard, and he stood still for a minute as he tried to figure out what to say.

“I had a… partner, once,” he began, avoiding Chase’s eye so he wasn’t caught in a lie. “We’d planned to run away together, but then things went wrong. I was… sent away. I made new friends. I met another guy, and he was nice, but he’s got his own messes to deal with.”

“But you’ve never been married?”

“No, just dated around a bit.” Why are you telling your life story to this mortal? You’ve really lost it all. “I guess I haven’t found the right person to spend my life with.” Internally, Pat cringed at the cliché line, and the scars on his back began to tingle.

“I’m sure you’ll find someone,” Chase said with a smile, clapping Pat on the back before glancing down at his phone as it went off in his hand. “I’ve got to go. I’m needed at the courthouse. It was nice to meet you, Pat. I hope I’ll see you again before you move.” With a short squeeze of Pat’s hand and a small wave, Chase dashed off, leaving Pat to watch his disappearing form with an aching heart.

----

“I didn’t think I’d be seeing you again.” Chase sat beside Pat on the park bench facing the fountain, adjusting the cap on his head and crossing an ankle over his knee. “I thought you’d left.”

“I’ll be leaving soon,” Pat replied, running a hand through his hair. “I just wanted to check in on you before I left.” Chase glanced down to see Pat was drawing in the dirt with his foot again, and he tilted his head in an attempt to interpret the pattern.

“What do you draw when you’re talking to me?” he asked quietly, taking out his phone to take a photo of the pattern. “It’s the same thing you drew last time, isn’t it? Must be special to you.” He frowned when Pat brushed the drawing away again, turning to look at him and gasping when he saw that Pat’s eyes were purple.

“There’s so much I can’t tell you, Chase Brody,” he whispered, taking one of Chase’s hands in both of his own, lifting it and gently kissing the back of it. “My job, my past, who I really am. I can’t tell you because then you’ll get scared and run away, and I can’t handle that.”

“I don’t need to know your life story,” Chase replied, squeezing Pat’s hands and leaning closer. “I don’t even mind not knowing who you really are, Pat. All I need is someone I can trust to talk to when I need someone.” He wiped a tear from his eye, sniffling before leaning back.

“I can be that someone.” Pat nodded resolutely, letting go of Chase’s hand and brushing off his purple jeans. “That thing I draw is sort of like a calling card. Draw that when you need to talk, and I’ll be there. You can trust me.” He smiled at Chase, using his thumb to wipe away a tear on Chase’s cheek.

“Thanks, Pat.” Chase chuckled, dropping his hands into his lap. “You’re an angel.” After a tap on Pat’s knee, Chase stood and walked away, lifting his phone to answer a call.

Pat watched him go, swallowing a lump in his throat as tears welled in his eyes. You have no idea how right you are, Chase Brody.

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

@iamvegorott @brokentimewatch

[solarflicker-ao3]

omg this is me trying not to pick every single option for the fanfic writer ask thing. like good lord i would love to know ALL OF THAT.

I’ll narrow it down tho :)

4, 11, 17, 23, 27, 40, 56

if that’s still too many, feel free to just pick your fav one!!

I got ‘em all!!

Where do you find inspiration for new ideas?

Ruined Ambitions is largely drawn from my own experiences, other people’s experiences, and shameless wish fulfillment. But then for longer pieces like Judecca and an upcoming fic it’s some part of the culture that I live in (Bible Belt) and wanting to be a moderately pretentious contrarian about it. Also occasionally prompts, but I have a very long list of those to choose from.

Link your three favorite fics right now

Poured Out Like Water

this one is insanely underrated!!

sickly sweet

a certified @jittyjames banger my history says I’ve read it dozens of times 😳

no talk of god

devastating don’t let the cover art fool you. It’s a perfect prequel to the uk arena tour and the characterization is so good.

What do you do when writing becomes difficult? (maybe a lack of inspiration or writers block)

Depends on the block. If I’m just completely stuck, and hate everything I’ve ever written then just trying to push ahead is pretty useless. Those are all signs that I haven’t been taking physical care of myself and I need to get back on track before there’s any point in adding stress from writing goals.

But if that’s not the problem I play video game music! It’s perfect since it’s designed to keep you focused on whatever you’re doing. If I can push myself past about ten minutes without switching to a different tab, that usually breaks the block enough for a oneshot.

Best writing advice for other writers?

It’s cliche but perfect is the enemy of good. So find the point where it’s good enough and then let it be. Also if you really hate the scene you’re writing you should probably change the scene.

What is your most and least favorite part of writing?

Honestly it’s when I get a comment or bookmark from someone who connected with what I wrote. A lot of the stuff I post comes from very personal and vulnerable places and it’s nice to not be alone there.

Least favorite is when I’m stressed out for other reasons I get absolutely convinced that everything I’ve written is terrible and embarrassing. Like it’s a great outlet but thanks for the new vulnerability I guess 🤨

If someone were to make fanart of your work, what fic or scene would you hope to see?

Literally so many. If I had the skills I would probably be doing illustrations for every chapter and every oneshot. Top three would be Judas being healed in Judecca, the date in Not Just Any Man, and literally any moment from What’s That In The Bread?

What’s something about your writing that you pride yourself on?

Okay so just being able to write gay stuff at all is very significant so I am very proud of that. When I was a kid/teen i would go out of my way to make it clear that my characters were Definitely Not Gay because that would be Wrong. Stylistically I also think that my stuff is fun to read and I love hiding easter eggs and literary references.

[maxwell-grant]

Having asked your thoughts on designing Frankenstein's daemon, might I now ask your thoughts on bringing Count Dracula from the written word into illustration? (I'm definitely in favour of the 'Hairy Old Mountain Man of Horror pretending he's people' look from the original novel; one of the small tests too many Draculas fail to pass is an absolutely tragic lack of the Evil Beard and/or Wicked Moustache explicitly described by Mr Stoker).

Unlike with Frankenstein, where I think the design needs to be painstakingly thought out in order to achieve the best balance of the creature's traits for horror and tragedy alike, I think with Dracula you can actually just take an approach of "whatever works". Because as I mentioned before, I think much of the appeal and longevity of Dracula is how the character's both a layered villain as well as a shapeshifting narrative force that can be tailored to whatever you want to do with. Granted, there are bad or dissappointing Dracula designs, of course there are, but in regards to the leeway you get for reinterpretation, you get a lot more of it with Dracula than with other literary icons.

Like with Frankenstein, I'm gonna bring up how I'd tackle a less grim, more comedy-centric Dracula first, one that's less a force of horror and more of a charismatic villain, and I think to that end I definitely agree that people are sleeping a lot on the hairy old man barely-passing-off-as-humanoid of the original story. Despite very much loving these performers, I'm actually not a fan of takes that mold Dracula too closely to people who've portrayed him, like Bela Lugosi and Christopher Lee, partially because I think it's a waste of an opportunity to create your own Dracula design. Since I can't draw (yet), I'll do what I usually do and make a board of images to try and convey some of my thoughts on one way I'd design Dracula.

(Pictured: Kiwi's design for Dracula, Hotel Transylvania concept art, Nandor, Castlevania Dracula, Charles Dance in Dracula Untold, Vladislav, a Transylvanian rug)

I used the images in my other Dracula post and I’ll post it here again because I absolutely adore @kiwibyrd's designs for Dracula and it's main heroes, in particular I love the way it strikes a good balance at making sure Dracula looks distinctly separate from the humans, but not too much that he couldn't conceivably operate in society as just a harmless old man. I also adore the mustache and bushy eyebrows and pointy ears and I think these three are wonderful features to keep on any Dracula design. I'm also very partial to the Hotel Transylvania concept art, even if it makes me incredibly depressed to look at all the great designs they had for Dracula that they threw in the trash because they somehow decided making him look like Adam Sandler was the idea to go with.

I deeply adore What We Do In The Shadows, both the movie and the show, and Jemaine Clement's Vladislav is one of my favorite (maybe even my actual favorite) on-screen Draculas. But I also enjoy Nandor just as much, and I think it's really great that as a character he's completely different from Vlad while also being ostensibly a take on Dracula, and in particular I bring up his Jersey look because "Dracula in common clothing" is a criminally underrated concept for a joke.

As a character, I'm very partial to comedy takes on Dracula that play him up as a decadent aristocratic supervillain, the kind that can get away with talking in third person. I also have this idea for a version of Dracula who dresses ostentatiously in finely-broidered Romanian or Transylvanian patterns, maybe even wearing a rug as a cape, claiming that he's carrying the legacy of his people on his back. And of course he's lying, he's not Vlad Tepes and he's not even Romanian, he is just a parasite pretending to have a history to be proud of, but good luck getting him to admit that. And finally, I'd like this version to be played by Charles Dance, and I consider it a tremendous crime against humanity that he has yet to play Dracula proper even despite being in a film with the character's name on the title.

So that's kinda how I would design a take on Dracula for something more comedic or more based around him as this guest character and personality on-set. Now, if we're talking a more serious version, I think the possibilities increase, and I won't be getting into all of them because I may prefer to keep them to myself, but I'll elaborate a few ideas.

For example, the edition of Dracula I personally own comes with these really scratchy, really creepy B&W illustrations related to the story, that I can't find scanned online so I'm uploading them here so you can look at. They don't necessarily depict the scenes but rather some of the story's moments, like Van Helsing staking Lucy, Renfield in a straightjacket, Dracula as a coachman, and they are more focused on conveying the horror of the concepts at play.

Dracula never looks the same way in any of the illustrations, in fact you kinda have to piece him out of them by trying to find teeth or capes or eyes or bat-features to see where he's hiding this time. In the first, it's the half-man half-bat, in the 2nd, he's the shrieking bat silhouette next to Renfield, and in the latter, he's the gaping jaws and eerily humanoid eyes in the wolf. The effect to me almost feels like if you were to look at a bunch of tv static and then see a humanoid shape form for a split second before everything went back to normal, something like you'd get from Slender Man or other modern creepypastas, and I’ve argued before that Dracula’s form of horror is a very modern one. 

In terms of illustrations of Dracula that keep up the original traits while still pulling off horror, I definitely have to hand it to the one at the left of the image above, drawn by regourso on Deviantart (account deleted at present). Going back to Castlevania’s many takes on Dracula, two in particular that stick out to me would be Castlevania: Judgment’s armored dress Dracula, who’s got this great twisted heart/rose motif going on in his outfit, and Dracula’s final form in SOTN where he just sits in his throne and his cape twists into all these monsters, particularly how it’s depicted by witnesstheabsurd’s depiction. 

I’m not particularly a fan of how Dracula’s “final form” in these games is usually just some big demon, and part of what I like about his final form in SOTN instead is that, while it’s not a particularly challenging final boss, I do find it interesting the idea of us never actually getting to see what Dracula’s true final form looks like, only an ever-shifting pitch-black torrent of teeth and claws and bloody veins pouring out because that’s ultimately what Dracula is and brings to the world.

On the flip-side of the rotten old monster, we have the charming seductor Dracula, and while I’m really not a fan of how various adaptations have convinced people that “the point” of Dracula is that he’s a seductive force and an allegory for Victorian xenophobia and I’m reeeally even less of a fan of adaptations that make Dracula some misunderstood tragic hero (and I think I’ve made rather violently clear my feelings on interpretations that play up a romance between him and Mina), that the seductive force part exists is impossible to deny, so conversely, while on one hand we can have Dracula as the gargantuan whirlwind of predatory violence, we can also go for Dracula as the tantalizing lover.

I’ve seen a lot of opinions proclaiming Frank Langella as the best Dracula because he was the best at actually being seductive while still playing Dracula, although I haven’t yet seen his performances. If I had to point at one picture I look at and do buy for a second the idea of Dracula as a romantic character, it would be that particular still of Raul Julia in the left of the above image. And it’s strange for me to think of Raul Julia as attractive because I mainly associate him with his brilliant comedy performance of M.Bison (I know it’s far from the highlight of his career but, look, I grew up with Street Fighter, I can’t help it) but those eyes are definitely looking pretty convincing to me, if nothing else. 

And I’ve included this still of Sebastian Stan in the right because, during a conversation between me, @krinsbez and @jcogginsa about who could be a good fit for Dracula, jcog suggested Sebastian Stan, partially because he’s Romanian, and I’ve learned recently that Stan was actually interested in playing the character in Blumhouse’s upcoming remake. And you’d think I’d hate this idea  considering how much I don’t care for tragic anti-hero Draculas, but who says that’s what he’d have to play? 

Do you have any idea how much actors, who are traditionally known for heroic or supporting roles, usually LOVE it when you give them a chance to cut loose as the main villain?

I’d want Sebastian Stan to put all of his charm, all of his talent, all of his good looks and etc, into playing the absolute most vicious, bloodthirsty and irredeemable Dracula put on screen. Someone who is exceedingly, eerily good at being a lovable protagonist, who’s all smiles and charming eyes and politeness mannerisms and maybe even a funny accent, and then it isn't as funny when he's flying through your window intent on kidnapping babies to feed to his brides, except he may take a moment or two to do so because he's feeling pretty hungry himself right now.

Now, admittedly this is kind of a lot to juggle in regards to a single character, which is why my answer for questions like these inevitably has to be “depends on what I’m going for”. That being said, if I was going to try and cast someone who I think could both look the part of Dracula, as well as respectively, play “cartoon aristocrat” Dracula, “mercurial embodiment of evil” Dracula, as well as realistically be an attractive, even seductive performer who can charm viewers even as the character descends into horrible villainy, and juggle these performances even?

I think I’d have to go with Mads Mikkelsen. Not specifically because of Hannibal (I actually haven’t watched it yet), although it’s definitely a factor, the thing that actually made me pick him specifically is, other than his looks, his voice, his reputation for playing sinister characters, the fact that he loves the role and wants to play it, or how many people are deeply in love with this man, or that people already joke that he looks like a vampire, was watching him in Another Round, and specifically that glorious final scene where he’s just dancing to his heart’s content and just, moving with such spring in his step and such joyful vitality even though he’s past his mid-fifties, and that was the moment where, in regards to how much you all love this man, I went

And now I am going to add “casting Mads Mikkelsen as a dancing Dracula” to The List of Reasons Why I Became a Filmmaker.

[elvish-sky]

Totally and Completely in Love {Legolas x Reader}

A.N: I’m extremely proud of this. I’ve worked on it for two weeks and just really love it. I think it’s actually my favorite thing I’ve ever written, so it would mean so much to me if you guys let me know what you think of it.

Requested by Anon on Tumblr: Hey! Can I request a Legolas x (human)reader where the reader is on the quest with the fellowship and she gets a really bad fever along the way (my idea was she passes out and Legolas carries her and takes care of her - but that's just an idea, you can make it any way you wish!) and while she's in fever shaking and high temperature she accidentally admits her feelings for Legolas not even knowing what she says cause she's so very ill. With lots of fluff along the way - fluff in your fics is just amazing 🥺 OH AND plus Aragorn who's shipping them the whole time like he always does! I was thinking about this for a long time and I just had to request it! Thank you so so so sooo muchh ❤️❤️❤️ Lots of love!

Word Count: 4, 318 ....oops. My bad.

Pairing: Legolas x Reader

Summary: You catch a cold and Legolas takes care of you.

Warnings: Swears, sickness/fever

****

Totally and Completely in Love

You dove under the water, probing with your hands until you hit what you thought was an ankle. Yanking it, you felt the person attached stumble and join you under the water. You came up for air, laughing to see Merry spluttering as he recovered from his sudden dunking.

Leaving Rivendell some days previously, you had been excited for the journey and adventure you were about to embark on. Now, though, you were starting to feel a little worse for wear. After spotting the small waterfall and pool it flowed into, you and the hobbits had begged Aragorn to stop early for the day, desperate to wash up. After a lot of begging, he had finally agreed, and here you were.

Aragorn had wanted to get a more thorough grasp of the terrain if you were to be camping here, and Legolas and Gimli had volunteered to join him. Aragorn had rolled his eyes, knowing that he would spend a lot of time breaking up arguments and friendly competitions between the two, but they left. (You fondly recalled the time when, after a long day of walking, the two had started a competition to find the most firewood. It had ended with them having a tug-of-war with a large log while the rest of the group rolled around laughing at them, which doubled when Aragorn chopped the log in half, causing them each to fall back on their asses.) While they scouted, Sam got a fire going, and Boromir and Gandalf did who knows what, you and the other three hobbits had decided to go wash your clothes. Merry and Pippin had quickly started a fight, however, and upon seeing them in the pool with the mist spraying into the air, creating rainbows, you had stripped down to your underthings and joined them, determined to win, while Frodo looked on and called out advice from a nearby rock. It was freezing, uncomfortably so, but it was worth it to be able to feel even a little bit clean again.

“Nice one, Y/N!” he cried out now, nodding his approval as you dunked Pippin. You ignored the fact that as a human, you had a size advantage over the small hobbits, and proceeded to do a victory lap in the water.

Swimming around, you admired the natural beauty that you had somehow stumbled upon. Small cliffs rose around you, about the height of a small oak tree, sheltering the little lagoon. The waterfall cascaded down the rocks into the pool of shimmering blue water, which filtered out between a small gap in the rocks, forming a river. The green leaves of the trees were reflected in the water, giving it a teal tint, and the sun made the grains in the rocks sparkle. All of this gave the small area a truly ethereal look.

You were suddenly startled from your reverie by two hobbit-sized shapes crashing into you from above. While you had been admiring the scenery, Merry and Pippin had climbed onto the rocks to ambush you. Forcing your head underwater, they giggled as you came back up, gasping. Their amusement quickly turned to fear as you turned to them with a devilish glint in your eyes. You tackled them and smirked as their faces turned to twin looks of outrage. “What was that for?”

“You guys jumped me! I did what I had to do.” You leaned back in the water, very pleased with yourself as you heard a stifled chuckle from the nearby rocks.

“Oh, you think that’s funny, do you, Frodo?” Pippin was advancing on him now, looking comically angry. Merry grabbed him and whispered something in his ear that you couldn’t quite hear. Pippin nodded, his face turning serious.

“We should go back to the campsite, see if there’s any food.” Merry was now climbing onto the shore and tucking his shirt into his wet trousers.

“You just want to steal some of Sam’s stew before everyone else!” Pippin elbowed him. “And what if I do?” Merry set off running towards the campsite, Pippin following him with a curse and a shout of, “Now he’ll eat it all and there’ll be none left for me!”

You made your way onto the shore a bit more sedately. Once out of the water, you began shivering and hastened to get redressed. Frodo had looked away, blushing, when you climbed out of the water, and you teased him. “C’mon Frodo, everything important is covered!”

This was true, you had kept your wrappings over your chest on, as well as your other undergarments. “Still,” the hobbit kept his eyes averted as you tugged your tunic over your head, lacing it as you spoke, “it’s not proper.” You shook your head at him in pretend exasperation. “I’m decent, let us go see if Merry really did eat all the stew.”

Sitting around the fire with your companions, you would have been quite content had you still not been so cold. Sam’s stew had warmed you for a little while, but now you were hunched over in your still-damp clothes, shivering. “Are you all right, Y/N?” Legolas looked down at you from his perch on the log next to you, concern in his eyes. “Yes,” you nodded, teeth chattering. “Just cold.”

“Well, maybe Legolas could warm you up?” Aragorn winked at you.

“No!” you cried, and then leaned over and punched Aragorn’s arm.

“Ow! What was that for?” he exclaimed, but you just sat back, pleased with yourself, yet still shivering.

Legolas looked uncertain for a second, then wrapped his arm around your shoulders, bringing you close to his warmth. You unconsciously pressed closer against him, drawn to the heat emanating from his body. As you did, he stiffened. He then jumped up, leaving you sitting there, confused as he made his way over to his pack. Grabbing something, he came back over and held it out to you.

“You’re freezing because your clothing is soaked!” He informed you and the group of this. “Yes, Legolas, I know. I’m the one wearing the soaked clothes.” You attempted to say this deadpan, but it was ruined by the clicking sound of your teeth chattering.

“Well, I was thinking- I don’t have pants that’ll fit you, but you can wear my tunic.” He blushed. “It might be a little large, but at least it’s dry.”

“Oh, no Legolas, I’m fine, really.” You didn’t want him to notice how you were nervously playing with your hair, something you always did when embarrassed.

“Really, Y/N. Take it.” He shook it at you, and, sighing, you stood and grabbed it out of his hand. “Thank you, Legolas.” You made your way to the edge of the campsite, grabbing a new set of wrappings for your breasts before disappearing into the forest to change.

Behind a tree, you lifted the damp tunic over your head and rewrapped your chest with practiced ease. You then pulled Legolas’ soft tunic on. It was rather large on you, falling a little lower on your legs than yours usually did. It hit your waist at a nice angle, however, accentuating it nicely. The real issue was the neckline. It had no laces and was much deeper than you usually wore, exposing a lot more skin than you were used to. After unsuccessfully trying to close the v-neck in some way, you gave up and just prayed no one would look too closely.

Walking back into the campsite, you draped your wet tunic over your pack, hoping it would dry overnight.

“I feel much warmer now, thank you.” You sat back down on the log next to Legolas. His eyes drifted across your body, taking in the sight of you in his clothes. “It looks good on you.” He blushed, and you tucked a piece of loose hair behind your ear, feeling rather pleased by the compliment.

“Hey, lovebirds!” came a shout from across the fire. Boromir was sitting with Merry and Pippin and was unwrapping something encased in leaves. You quickly scooched apart from Legolas, fidgeting, and craned your neck to see what Boromir had.

“What is that?” Legolas was just as curious, and just as embarrassed.

“While you were all off doing stuff earlier, I went and gathered some berries!” Boromir finished unwrapping them and held them up triumphantly. You could see strawberries and blueberries spilling out onto the leaves, and licked your lips in anticipation. After taking a few, Boromir passed the pouch around the fire, and everyone took a couple. You bit into a strawberry, savoring the sweetness.

“These are delicious, thank you, Boromir.” Aragorn was trying to speak around a mouthful of blueberries, which just caused the blue juice to run down his chin. Soon, you were all giggling at each other devouring the fruit, not caring if any got on your faces. Even Gandalf had a streak of blue running into his long grey beard, a fact that amused Pippin greatly. Finished, you leaned back with a sigh, patting your stomach with satisfaction.

“Thank you, Boromir. Truly, they were a wonderful treat.”

“Happy to, Y/N!” And indeed he did look pleased to see everyone enjoying something he had done for them.

You made your way down to the waterfall, this time accompanied by the whole Fellowship except Gandalf, who had stayed behind to tend the fire. You all splashed water on your faces to clean them of the sticky berry residue. You were careful to just get your face wet, not wanting to dampen Legolas’ tunic, but even with just your face you still got really cold again. Shivering, you turned and walked back to the campsite, admiring the stars shining above the foliage.

Reaching the campsite, you walked over to your bedroll and dragged it closer to the fire. Not so close that people would be worried, but close enough that you could hopefully soak up the meager warmth as the flames dwindled into embers overnight. You climbed in under your blanket and curled up in a ball to preserve as much body heat as possible. Lulled by the crackling of the fire and the soft murmurs of your friends getting ready for the night, you drifted off to sleep, grateful that you weren’t on the watch list that night.

“Y/N. Wake up, it’s time to go.” You were shaken awake the next morning by Legolas, who smiled at you fondly before moving on to help pack up. Stretching, you sat up and immediately recoiled. Your head hurt. And you were cold. And also somehow hot. And you felt a tad bit woozy. But you were fine, you didn’t want to hold up the journey, so you gathered the courage and emerged from your bedding, rolling it up and packing it away as you hissed in discomfort.

Walking across the campsite, your arm was grabbed by Aragorn, who pulled you off to the side. “Are you ok? You look out of sorts.” It was true, you were shaking a little bit with chills, but he didn’t need to know that.

“Oh, I’m completely fine, Aragorn. Don’t worry about me!” You faked a smile in an attempt to prove that you were, as you said, fine. Pulling your arm out of his grasp, you shouldered your pack and set off behind Boromir.

As the day went on, you felt fainter and fainter. One second you would feel like you were a furnace, the next you thought you’d never be warm again. It was taking all your energy to focus on simply putting one foot in front of the other, but you kept going, determined not to be the cause of any delays.

After you had stopped for lunch, Legolas drifted to the back of the group to walk with you. Noticing your shakiness earlier, he had decided to check on you.

“Are you alright, Y/N?” His gaze met yours, and the touching concern in his eyes almost made you stumble, although to be fair anything could have made you stumble, you were so tired at this point.

“Why does everyone keep asking me that? Seriously, Legolas, I’m fi-” Your body finally gave up on you, and you passed out. The elf was not expecting this and tried to catch you as you fell, succeeding only in slowing you down so that you hit the ground gently, cradled in his arms. Feeling your forehead, he sucked in a breath of shock.

“She’s burning up.” He informed the rest of the Fellowship, who were all gathered around the two of you like a bunch of concerned mother hens.

“We cannot stop yet.” Aragorn looked worried.

“I will carry Y/N until we camp for the night.” Boromir volunteered. Had you been conscious, you would have protested being carried at all. You wouldn’t have cared who you were carried by. But someone else did.

“No, Boromir. I’ll carry her.” With this Legolas scooped you into his arms, startling Boromir with his determination. Aragorn just smirked. “Let us continue, then.” And they set off, you in Legolas’ arms, head resting against his chest.

Legolas heard Pippin softly asking Aragorn questions as they moved. “I don’t understand, why did Y/N catch a cold but we did not?”

“Hobbits are hardier folk than us humans. You can withstand much harsher conditions. It is why I did not join you in the water, and I have elvish blood, so it would not have been as bad for me as it is for Y/N.” The elf secretly did not know much about humans and their sicknesses, so he found this explanation rather helpful.

Legolas kept looking down at you, marveling at how, even sick, you looked so peaceful. You wore a faint smile as if you were having a pleasant dream.

“Legolas?” You whispered, squirming in his arms. He jolted at the sound of his name coming out of your mouth.

“Y/N? Are you awake?” He brushed your hair out of your face and saw that your eyes were still closed. He figured it was just you having a dream about the Fellowship, his name just happened to be the one you mentioned. Then you spoke again.

“I love you, Legolas.” He stopped in shock as you shifted in his arms again.

“You love me too? That’s good.” You sighed, wiggling your nose in that cute way Legolas liked, head still resting against his chest.

The elf, meanwhile, was standing there. Dumbstruck, with you fast asleep in his arms, he stood there until an unsuspecting Gimli crashed into him from behind.

“Lad! Yeh don’t just stop in the middle of the path! Keep moving!”

Legolas was still too shocked to come up with a retort, so he silently stepped to the side, letting the dwarf pass. Aragorn was next but paused to get Legolas to keep walking. “Legolas. What is wrong? Do you grow weary of carrying Y/N?”

“No!” The elf turned away from Aragorn, fearing that the man would insist on taking you.

Aragorn backed up a step, hands in the air. “Very well then. If you are not tired, why are you so on edge?”

“Y/N was talking in her sleep.”

“So? What does that have to do with yo- Legolas, why are you blushing?!” The ranger looked very amused by the flushed elf. “What, exactly, did she say?”

“She, um, well- she said she loved me.” Legolas was trying very hard not to meet Aragorn’s eyes.

Meanwhile, Aragorn had a shit-eating grin on his face. “Well, that is wonderful news! Now the two of you can stop the ridiculous flirting and pining.”

“Aragorn- you do not think she could have meant it?” Legolas was now looking at his friend, and Aragorn could see the beginnings of hope in his eyes.

“Of course she meant it! She was having a dream, about you, and told you she loved you. How could it be any clearer?”

“Well, that’s just it. It was a dream. It probably did not mean anything.” As Legolas spoke, Aragorn saw him convince himself that it was not true. “Legolas.” The blond turned his head and looked Aragorn in the eyes.

“I believe that Y/N means what she said in that dream. I have seen it in the way she acts with you. If you do not, then I cannot convince you. But I will say- ask her about it when she wakes up. Just mention the dream.”

With that Aragorn sped up, leaving a conflicted, confused, and still blushing Legolas walking slowly at the back of the group.

“I think you should tell her,” came a voice from down near his elbow. Legolas’ gaze drifted down to focus on Merry, who had somehow appeared next to him while he was lost in thought. “Tell her what?” The elf tried to deny everything, but Merry wasn’t having it.

“Tell her that you love her!” The hobbit looked so earnest that Legolas couldn’t help but listen to him. Merry continued, “I know if I loved someone, I’d want them to know. Not even because we could lose our lives at any moment, just because I think they deserve it. It’s like in the old stories Mr. Bilbo used to tell. She deserves to know you love her, Legolas. Tell her before it’s too late.”

Struck by the serious set of the hobbit’s face, and emotions in his eyes, Legolas nodded. “All right then. I guess I’ll ask her tonight.” He looked nervous, but then his eyes drifted down to look upon your sleeping form, cradled in his arms, and his face softened.

“Don’t let Boromir or Gimli see you looking at her like that, though- they’ll think you’ve gone soft!” And with that, Merry bounded back up to walk with Pippin.

Legolas was again by himself (well, not entirely, you were still there, but that might not count because you were unconscious), left to mull over his thoughts. He had been bluffing with Merry, he was most certainly not going to ask you about your feelings for him that night, but reflecting on the hobbit’s words something struck him. You were all on a perilous quest, it would be better for you to know now. And he could just ask you about your dream, inquire after your sleep. He didn’t have to confess to anything unless you did- which he was sure wasn’t going to happen, who could love him? But it did sound like a decent plan, so he decided to go through with it.

Just as that thought of resolve crossed his brain, you stirred. Opening your eyes, you gazed blearily at the world around you until your gaze came to rest on the face above you.

Blinking, it came into focus. “Legolas? What- why are you carrying me? What happened?”

“You fainted, Y/N. We think you have a fever, you must have caught a cold from swimming yesterday.” He was still walking as he spoke.

“Ok. Well, thank you for carrying me. I can walk now.”

When he didn’t, you asked again. “I’m fine, Legolas. Really, put me down.”

He still refused to do so.

“Put me down, Legolas!”

Finally, he answered. “I will not. I will carry you until we camp tonight.”

Overhearing him, Aragorn called out back to you. “Well, it’s a good thing we just found a place to camp!”

“Frodo, would you mind grabbing me Y/N’s pack from Aragorn and just spreading out her bedroll so she can rest?” Legolas was walking over to a spot he thought you would like as he spoke. Frodo came over with your bedroll, laying it out on a nice, flat area of ground. As pleased as you were, you still had to protest.

“I do not need rest, Legolas. What I need is for you to put me down!”

Sensing that perhaps it was just best to do as you said, the elf gently eased you to your feet. The second you were standing, you started to feel dizzy, and the chills came back. You fell back into Legolas’ waiting arms, too tired to stand.

“Okay, fine, maybe I do need to rest.” You yawned as he lowered you onto your bedroll, tucking the blankets in around you. “But I don’t want to be here, away from everyone. Carry me over to sit around the fire.” You made a regal face as Legolas picked you back up. The fire was crackling in the center of the small clearing, and everyone else was gathered around as Sam served supper.

“So demanding,” he muttered under his breath, jokingly. “Oh!” You were playfully offended.

He set you down, wrapping your blanket around your shoulders before settling next to you. Sam passed you a bowl of stew, and you inhaled the scent of it.

“Rabbit and potato tonight?” You could always guess what was in it.

“How do you guess right every time?” Pippin was amazed.

“I guess I just have a refined, expert sense of smell,” you declared and dug into the delicious stew.

Sighing, you placed your bowl on the ground, empty, and leaned into Legolas’ side. He stiffened, surprised, before wrapping his arm around your shoulders and drawing you closer to him.

“How are you feeling?”

“Better, thank you. Still tired, but I’m not as cold.”

He nodded and looked back at your companions around the fire. Who, in fact, were all staring at the two of you. Again. You scooched away from the elf, realized just how cold it was away from his arms, and promptly moved back closer to him, burying your face in his chest to titters from the group around you.

“Oh, shut up.” You didn’t care, Legolas was warm and you were cold, it was as simple as that. Nothing else. Or at least, that was what you were telling yourself.

Later that night, after you had wobbled back over to your bedroll with the help of Merry and Pippin each propping you up on one side, you lay there, unable to sleep. You didn’t understand why- you were very tired, you just couldn’t sleep. Your tossing and turning must have caught the attention of the person, or rather, elf, on watch, as he came over and sat down next to you.

“Are you okay?” He looked worried.

“Fine. I just can't seem to fall asleep.” You sat up, now at eye level with the blond archer.

“Ah. Well, unfortunately, I do not know how to get you to sleep, but I can keep you company if that is all right.” You nodded, and the two of you sat there, looking up at the stars glowing in the sky, framed like a portrait by the foliage of the trees surrounding the clearing.

After a while, he spoke again. “Y/N, can I ask you something?”

You nodded.

“What were you dreaming about earlier?”

You tucked your hair behind your ear, embarrassed as you recalled the dream from earlier where you and Legolas had fallen in love. Deciding that denial was the best course of action here, you spoke. “I did not dream.”

“Y/N. You were talking in your sleep.”

Uh oh.

“What did I say?”

Now he was blushing. You internally prepared yourself for whatever embarrassing thing he was about to say, ready to deny your feelings.

“You, um… well, you said you loved me.”

You wouldn’t meet his eyes. “I’m so sorry, Legolas. It was just a silly, dream, it meant nothing, I don’t feel that way about you at all…” Babbling, your eyes went back to his face, unprepared for the depth of disappointment in his eyes and the sadness written there.

“You truly do not feel like that?”

After seeing his face, feeling the emotion conveyed in his voice, a small flame of hope lit in your chest. Taking a deep breath, you decided to be brave.

You took his hand, entwining your fingers with his as you took a deep breath. “I lied, Legolas. I love you.”

You saw the shock on his face. “It’s ok if you don’t feel the same, we can never speak of it again. We can go back to normal, this doesn’t have to be a big deal.” Your babbling was cut off by the elf.

“Y/N. I love you. Totally and completely, with every fiber of my being, I love you.”

Shyly, you reached your hand out and brushed his cheek.

“Really?”

“Really.”

“That’s good.”

He laughed. “You said that after I told you in your dream!”

“I did?”

He nodded. “Now, let’s see if you can get some sleep. It’s late.”

He moved so that you were between his legs, head resting on his chest as he leaned up against a rock. You snuggled in close, and he began rubbing circles on your shoulder. He began to softly hum, a tune you did not recognize but liked just the same. Lulled by his soft voice and the motions of his hands, you drifted into a deep, wonderful sleep.

Legolas sat there, you in his arms, marveling at the turn of events. A movement from Aragorn’s bedroll startled him, but he made sure not to wake you up. The ranger sat up, facing him.

“I told you so.” Aragorn winked at him, looking mightily pleased with himself.

“Well, now that you’re awake, you might as well begin your shift of watch!” Legolas looked triumphant and watched as the ranger sighed and rose, moving over to sit on a boulder that overlooked the whole camp.

“Get some sleep, Legolas,” Aragorn advised.

Careful to not wake you, Legolas moved so that he was lying next to you, arm wrapped around your waist and chin resting just above your head. He sighed and felt himself slowly drift off to join you, his beloved, in the land of sleep.

Everything tag 💞: @entishramblings @itgetsatadhazy @boyruins @anjhope1 @hey-its-nonny

Legolas tag: @sheriffgerard @bitter-sweet-farmgirl

[captainsimagines]

To Topple A Giant || Chapter One

Summary: You had made it your mission to destroy even the smallest evils. When the opportunity arises to finally take down your own family after years of gaining their trust, you reach for it. And so does Steve, the man who represents a symbol of everything you hate. 

Pairing(s): Steve Rogers x Reader || Avengers x Reader

Part 1 of 10 ~ Mini-Series

Trope: ‘Enemies to Lovers’; mainly angst, mutual pining, fluff, and eventual smut

Warnings: This story contains mature themes and discussions such as extreme canon violence, strong language, emotional angst, mentions of Endgame deaths and recoveries, sexual situations, and emotional/physical abuse. All trigger warnings will be listed before the chapter. This is purely fanfiction. 

Word Count: 4000+

A/N: Ooo, let’s hope this does numbers! I love myself some ‘enemies to lovers’ tropes. It’s been a while since I’ve written Steve fanfics. :)

~

Wakanda, 2018, 4:04 pm.

     The flash of bright white light temporarily blinded you, sending you back to the ground and cupping your face in self-defense. But as quickly as the initial crack, it was over. Eerily silent and loud at the same time. The birds whistled their same tune, some higher-pitched than others. The wind seemed to blow louder, rustling the leaves from the trees and landing all around you and your teammates. 

“Thor?”

You lifted your head at the sound of Steve’s voice and checked if the coast was clear. All that remained of the evil was a new blood-stained hammer - a hammer that Thor was watching intensely, as if the answer lay hidden there. It was the only remnant left and your mind was already wondering how to use it to bring that evil back to finish a fair fight. 

“Where’d he go?”

The birds stopped singing. 

“Steve?”

You whipped your head around at the sound of Bucky’s confused voice, watching as one of your best friends dropped his gun and looked up at Steve as his hands began to disappear. In a matter of seconds, Bucky - or what became of him - fell to the dirt below. No one spoke, and you watched as Steve tried to control his breathing as he took a knee to place his shaking hand over his best friend’s ashes. A life and mind brought out of the darkness to finally amend those knots he had twisted, now ceasing to exist. In the distance you could hear Okoye shout in turmoil and Rocket begin begging. 

“What’s happening?” you finally choked out, turning just in time to see Wanda lift her head to the sky, defeated and out of will, and succumb to the same fate. “No!”

You ran and fell beside Vision’s now gray and decaying body, reaching over and palming through Wanda’s ashes. You rubbed them between your fingers, inspecting them, and brought your hand to your chest. The pit of your stomach churned as you sat there, immobile and numb. 

“Sam!”

So many names were being called but soon everyone who remained fell silent. The trees were still guiding the wind, leaves falling into the ashes of your friends, a sign of a new and unwanted chapter. You felt Steve drop beside you, turning Vision around to see the damage to his body. You winced when you saw the gaping hole in his forehead. 

“What is this? What’s happening?”

Natasha ran to where you were seated, hand over her stomach as if she was ready to vomit. And once she took one look at Vision, that’s exactly what she did. 

You removed your hands from your chest to look at them, the ashes still there and practically mocking you into finally believing this as reality. “Did we just lose?”

Steve was moments away from a full-blown panic attack. He simply looked up at the trees, watching the way the sunlight still burst through with no disruption. “Oh god.”

You caught Steve as he tipped his upper body toward you, wrapping his arms around your waist and holding onto something real. He had to believe you were real. Anyone. And you were the closest person to him. You shut your eyes and held him, running your hands through his hair, wincing when you realized Wanda’s ashes were now on him.

You held him tight, praying to any God you chose to believe in at that moment, that Steve wouldn’t disappear too. 

Unknown Location, 2025, 1:07 pm.

     The air was incredibly musty, as if each person who struggled for breath in this room at one point or another left a piece of their soul floating in search of last minute penance for their sins. And the man in front of you was no different, choking on the purple blood that dripped down his neck and onto his now unbuttoned, white dress shirt. His chest was rising and falling, his breathing becoming less labored with each blink of the eye. His hands were tied behind his back and to the chair he sat on, a flickering light in the corner of the dark, concrete room somehow mocking this man’s last remaining seconds of life. 

“I’m not an evil person,” you started, kicking one of the legs of the chair to startle the poor man. But your guilt was minimal - it’s not like you wanted to do this - but knowing this man did exactly what everyone said he did, hands red and dripping with young blood, you selfishly took pleasure knowing this man would look at you when he died. “It’s just my job as third in command.”

You gave the man a small smile as you bent down to his level, head hanging in shame, slow breaths now pausing in between each intake. You looked to the other party in the room, handing them the gun in your holster, and walked out the room as the sound of two gunshots rang out. 

Left twist. Sting. Breathe. 

You washed away any smell from that godforsaken room, giving extra attention to the roots of your hair and under your fingertips. 

Scrub. Wash. Rinse. Repeat. 

The crack of your neck frightened even you, and you stood under the burning shower for a few more minutes before deciding the sting was enough. You changed into the most comfortable sweats you owned, surprisingly calm for such a gruesome morning you had, and took your time with your skin care routine. 

Circle. Wash. Dry.

Soft music played in the overhead speakers, the classical sounds vibrating from one wall to another and surrounding you with something tranquil - something still. There was nothing to expect from such a sound, only the next repeated chorus, no words or drops - just tranquility. You could barely hear yourself breathe but you were at peace - or mostly - and ready to sooth your growing headache behind the eyeballs with more than just music. You slipped on a pair of comfy, forest green socks and bent them at the ankle to achieve an even fluffier look. You applied your favorite perfume, lotioned up your hands, and donned your tacky friendship bracelet. 

One for you. One for Bucky. One for Peter. And one for Wanda. 

You hummed the whole way to the common room, waving at the morning staff as they fixed lightbulbs, covered holes in the walls, and swept the floors. One muffin and a cup of coffee later, you were resting with your head in Wanda’s lap as she filled your thoughts with your chosen sceneries.

      “I can make you see anything you have already seen, so yes.”

“A miniature golf course, Peter’s high school graduation, a field of all kinds of flowers, and Natasha.”

Wanda stilled her floating hand, smile faltering for a moment before she nodded. “Okay… okay, I can do that.”

     They were images well-drawn out, slow and steady to make the atmosphere similar to when you were actually there. They seemed to float across your vision, comfortable in their positions and radiating the same warmth you had felt the first time around. A moving picture. Wanda really had excellent control of this. 

     “I won!” Sam leapt into the air, pointing at a disgruntled Bucky, who stepped off to the side to not throw Sam over his own head. “I won!”

“How is it possible for you to get a hole-in-one each fucking turn?” Bucky groaned, moping in Wanda’s shoulder as she held him and struggled to keep herself standing from her own intense laughs. 

“I think we got a cheater on the loose,” Steve grinned, pointing at the ring Sam was trying to discreetly tuck back into his pocket. A friendly gift from T’Challa, no doubt. 

“Nuh-uh, give me the fucking proof, Wilson!” Bucky roared, wrapping his arm around Sam’s neck and tugging him forward. “I will not admit defeat if there was foul play involved!”

Sam escaped the hold, climbing onto the rock located to the side of the flag and a sign that read ‘do not climb on rocks’. 

“It just helped me calculate all things geometry, Barnes. We’re good.”

Bucky looked as if he was going to leap on him again, but before he could even finish that thought, Sam slipped on the wet surface and plummeted into the rushing little river. 

Laughter erupted and did not cease until you were escorted out of the fairgrounds by four security guards. 

     A flick of Wanda’s wrist and a new memory began forming, colors blending like an oil painting, dried and covered with a glossy varnish, ready to hang. 

     “Don’t trip on your way up, kid.”

Peter swatted Steve in the side as the super soldier left the room, leaving Peter alone in front of the full-length mirror. He adjusted his tie and tried to lay that pesky dangling strand of hair over the top of his head.

You got up from the couch and made your way over, wrapping your arms around Peter and resting your chin on his shoulder. “You’ll do great. We’re all so proud.”

“It’s just high school…”

You frowned and turned him to face you. “No, you should already be in your second year of college. This is seven years in the making. We are all so proud.”

Peter could feel the slight burn at the corner of his eyes but he swallowed it down, giving you a small smile and a hug. 

“And can you trip? Don’t you stick to all surfaces?”

Peter scoffed and pushed you away, his tiny smile never faltering.

     You could feel Wanda shift her legs underneath you, searching for the most comfortable position as she continued her work. You sighed, already feeling the therapeutic effects. 

     “They’re all so pretty!” you yelled cheerfully, running through the field with your arms extended to the sky. Bucky and Steve followed close behind, leaning down every so often to pluck the flower of their choosing and adding to the bouquet in their hand. 

“Which did Tony prefer?” Steve asked, snapping you from your pollen-filled, ecstatic state. 

“Aesthetic beauty, Rogers! Natasha was a sucker for anything pink and sunflowers.”

Bucky nodded, seeming to take that information into consideration as he plucked the yellow and pink flowers only. Steve chose the most healthy looking flowers, his hand struggling to hold them together as he reached the two dozen mark. 

“I think we’re good. These are good.”

You smiled at both super soldiers and admired their bouquets, leaning over to sniff their masterpieces. “Awesome.”

     Wanda sighed as she neared your last vision, debating on showing you your chosen moment instead of another one. This moment always hurt Wanda as she wasn’t there to witness it, but it was special to you. There were so many others to choose from, but you insisted this was the one you always wanted to see. And Wanda was always hesitant at first - but when she lifted her hand slowly and dropped the memory back into the front of your brain, she couldn’t help but smile. 

     “Are we ready?”

Everyone was practically bouncing on their heels, both excited and terrified. Time travel was new to humanity and you were to be one of the first to experience such a thrill. You were going to get everyone back. 

You squeezed Natasha’s hand once more before you walked back over to Thor and Rocket. You all nodded to each other, saying ‘goodbye’ and ‘good luck’ with your childlike expressions. 

“See you in a minute,” Natasha grinned, her cheeks reddening with a friendly blush as she looked over at Steve. Her hair was pulled back into a braid, a braid you had helped her make, and she was carrying an extra pair of socks in case of a long hike. 

Then a blast of color surrounded your body and the smell of peaches as you landed on Asgard filled your overstimulated senses. 

     You opened your eyes and smiled up at Wanda. You didn’t want to see old memories with your friend, but the most recent. It was like you were grasping onto that last memory of her, not wanting to change anything about her last smile, her last laugh, her last shred of existence. It was oddly calming, and so you hoped Wanda would understand. 

You thanked her again and proceeded to the kitchen. It was bigger than the one before, the soft forest green color of the walls a nice contrast from the blue ones before. You laughed to yourself and your conscience as you silently thanked the explosion that obliterated the horrid blue walls, quickly backtracking at your dumb thoughts. Still, you chose to joke about everything that happened before to avoid falling deeper into yourself. The kettle started howling, smoke circling around the tip. You poured your tea, dropped two cubes of sugar in, and added a little milk. 

It was quite bizarre how quickly you could bounce back from the morning you had. A very bloody, order-filled morning. When one order was given, you had to come up with a plan on how to not disregard the other. You had to listen to Fury and your father, gaining a few feet on each side without toppling the other. Still, it took a physical toll on you. But with Wanda’s help in easing your mind and the very sweet tea you nursed, your emotional baggage was pretty minimal. It sometimes scared you how easy it all was. 

Your morning carried on quietly as you sat on the concrete curb, happily sipping your tea in your sweatpants. You could hear Sam and Scott arguing about something a few feet away from you and Bucky taking his afternoon jog around the track. Quite distracted, the sudden ‘thwip’ and superhero landing of a certain teenager scared you enough to spill a little of your tea. 

“Goddamn, dude!” you whined, looking up at Peter as he tried to control his laughter. 

 “I’m sorry, I thought you saw me!”

“Excuse me for being distracted by the hot super soldier just over there,” you joked, pointing over at Bucky. 

Peter rolled his eyes and sat next to you, immediately reaching over to take the tea from you and take a sip himself. You let him, as you had no other choice, rolling your eyes anyway. 

“What are you doing here? I thought you had classes today?”

Peter handed back your cup, “Nah, I’ve only got classes every Tuesday and Thursday.”

“Ugh, that sounds great. I remember I scheduled my classes for every day of the week just to have more units,” you sighed, taking another sip of tea. 

 “Stupid.”

You pushed Peter’s shoulder playfully, both your laughter catching the attention of Sam and Scott. But as quickly as you had distracted them, they ignored you and went back to bickering. 

“I’m just here to see my friends, sue me!”

“Nope, you’re always welcome,” you smiled, holding out your wrist and bumping your bracelet with his. “How was your week otherwise?”

“Eh, nothing major. Just trying to navigate the world now that they know who's behind the mask.”

You gave Peter a look of sympathy, still mad at the sudden manipulation of the kid after such traumatic events. You had promised him you would protect him by any means possible, as did the rest of the team, but he seemed to be navigating the situation just fine. Staying away from reporters, scheduling his classes during the most isolated gaps of the day, and signing dozens of forms that promised to protect him, give him royalties, etc. After you had brought everyone back, it seemed the least the new management/orders could provide for you all. 

“We all have our days,” you muttered, handing your tea back to Peter. You two sat there for a while longer, enjoying the slight breeze and taste of sugar. 

An agent rounded the corner and spotted you, jogging up and handing you a yellow folder that was sealed in plastic. “For you, from Fury, from whoever before that.”

“Um, thank you?” you said as the agent walked away. You inspected the folder, turning it over in your hands and playing with the thin plastic. 

You lifted it up to Peter’s face, “Here, smell it and tell me if there’s poison.”

Peter scoffed, “I can’t do that!”

“Don’t you lie to me.”

Peter muttered to himself as he took the folder from you, sniffing it awkwardly. “Smells like paper, dude.”

“Cool, thanks.” 

You ripped the plastic off and unhooked the folder, dropping the single item onto your lap. Peter just sipped your tea and watched you open it. 

It was another envelope, but this one was white with custom-printed indents that swirled across the front and a big, red blob of wax smushed- with your initials- sealing it. You ripped it open and pulled the invitation from inside. You must have read it a thousand times, eyes rapidly scanning the small page with secret meanings. 

“You got invited to a wedding?” Peter asked, taking it from you and reading it himself. 

“Yeah, but this is so much more than that,” you said, snatching it back and standing up from the curb. You quickly went back into the compound, searching for the one person who needed to read it also.

You seemed to find everyone before you found the super soldier who wasn’t out for a jog, a line of somewhat concerned superheroes following behind you from room to room. Eager minds and yet, inflexible rib cages full of anxiety and worry, all ready (and quite not) to tackle the new evils of this new world. And whether they followed you blindly or with functioning minds, they were prepared. 

With the rest of the team behind you, you burst through the second floor with the invitation held over your head. Steve stopped mid-bite, milk dripping from his bottom lip as he stared at everyone in confusion. “Um…”

“It’s time-” you started, pulling the stool from next to him and sitting down. 

“Time for what?” Steve interrupted, his mouth still full of cereal.

“Time for this,” you motioned to the envelope you were handing him. “-to finally end.”

Steve read the invitation word for word, the wrinkles in his forehead becoming deeper as his mind worked. You couldn’t quite discern the feeling in the pit of your stomach, twisting and spinning into a tight coil, seeming to spread to the others as it grew in pressure within you. 

“All three?”

“All three,” you confirmed. 

Peter pushed through Bruce and Rhodey, “What’s happening? What’s gonna end?”

You looked over at Steve, his bowl of cereal now forgotten and soggy. 

His eyes were distant and rather cold, hands extended on his knees as if he was drying the accumulating sweat, shoulders building tension. 

“Steve, we can finally end this. We have to tell everyone. It won’t be enough if it’s just you and me.”

He wanted to explode, in both anger and anguish, to stumble over his intact persona and leave it behind - someone he hasn’t known for a long time. It ate away at him each day since Fury notified him of your selfish choice, burrowing into his now tarnished soul in the most sadistic way. But the prospect of finishing this chapter - a chapter that was unexpectedly halted when half the world disappeared - was considerably euphoric. A chance to move on. 

“Okay.”

Rhodey already had knowledge of your background, recruitment, and family but Steve’s initial involvement - the start of it - was still a mystery. You sat everyone down in the living room, making room for the others who arrived later, and clapped your hands together. “Story time!”

Steve groaned, face already pressed against a throw pillow. “Just tell them.”

You rolled your eyes at him. 

“You know whose spawn I’m from,” you began, snickers from your amused friends encouraging you. “To better transport their product, they sent me over to the states to attend college like the good little girl they think I am.”

Sam cracked open a beer and lifted his legs up onto the couch, sitting back with a massive smile on his face as he got comfortable for your story. He handed another beer to Scott. 

“Wait, product?” Scott asked, taking a sip from his drink. 

You smirked at him and tapped your nose twice, amused by his ‘O’ reaction. “Anyway, by then I already knew that I wanted out of the game. I didn’t like that life, I didn’t like the violence, I didn’t like my family.”

Steve knew that was an understatement, a cruel and restrained statement from your part, and he wanted to tell everyone just how justified you were in your words, how real you were being, and how much help you would certainly need for this. But like always, he remained silent. 

“But Fury got to me before I could leave. So, we made a deal. I would train as a field agent and he would promote me every other year to lessen suspicion on this whole ordeal. The deal being I would play both teams.”

By now, your whole team was intrigued. 

“I would do what I could for my father and still have my family’s trust, while feeding the information to SHIELD and our lovely star-spangled man over here,” you pointed over at Steve. He gave you a tiny but forced smile. 

“But after the collapse of SHIELD, my father only became more violent, more hard-headed, more suspicious. He- uh-” you stuttered, flashbacks suddenly filling your head. Wanda watched your eyes dart rapidly, sensing the rush of blood to your legs and tips of your fingers.

“He was power hungry,” Wanda said, immediately feeling your heart rate lower. Although you never actually said it, she could tell you were grateful for her intrusion. 

“Yeah, exactly,” you cleared your throat. “But Steve’s involvement all started when Fury asked me who would be the best front - the most reliable front.”

“So, with only Fury and the bad guys knowing - Y/N named me as her partner in crime,” Steve explained, head hanging low as if it was such a disgrace to do what you openly did. You knew his troubles with coming to terms with such an offensive role were multiplying daily, but you were now this close to stopping  every bad force involved. 

 “So, Captain America is the ultimate drug smuggler,” Scott spoke, somehow trying to comprehend the information all at once. You and Steve both nodded in confirmation and avoided the wide and questioning eyes looking back at you. 

“Yeah, he’s essentially the top boss.”

“Y/N-,” Steve interjected, but you beat him to  it. 

“And here we are! Him and I both invited to the wedding.”

Wanda stretched out her words, “The wedding?”

“Yes, the wedding - where three of the most famous and powerful drug lords south of the border will be attending and ready for our taking - including my father.”

Steve stood from his seat, posture straightening as he spoke to the group. “The invitation reads like a threat. No cameras, no plus-ones besides those listed specifically on the card, no speaking to reporters before or after. The trust Y/N has gained would unknowingly make us the contraband of the party.”

After going through more specifics about the whole situation, Bucky finally raised the question eating away at his mind this whole time. “Whose wedding is it, anyway?”

You grinned that stupid little grin Steve always prepared himself for. It was the grin you would display whenever you were going to make a serious matter a joke, or brush something serious off your shoulder as if it didn’t bother you. The sarcastic grin he always wanted to wipe off your face as you defied orders. 

“My lovely little sister’s.”

Rhodey stepped forward to take the invitation for personal inspection, “When is it?”

“A week from tomorrow,” you beamed. “Which means I got to get shopping for a wonderful little, red number!”

“Please, be more excited about this,” Steve groaned, sarcasm dripping off each syllable. 

You flicked your right hand up and in position to flash your charming little middle finger at him, a river of fluffed ego and delight flowing to your cheeks as he huffed and left the room in a stumbled march.

“So…” Scott’s voice ripped through the awkward silence. “We’ve been secret drug smugglers this whole time?”

~

Please let me know what you think! I listened “The Archer” by Taylor Swift and I was like... yes, I see this, lmao. Tell me if you would like to be tagged in later updates! xxMoni

[lcksndkys]

Pairing: hobi x reader

Rating: SFW

Genre: dancer!hobi x bff reader

Word count: 1,474

A/N: This piece was written as part of the btsghostiewriters drabble marathon!! Dialogue prompt #3: “Do you take constructive criticism?” “I only take cash.” Enjoy and feel free to talk to me about it! I'd love to hear what you think!! As usual, s/o to my peoples @jinpanman and @wwilloww for the support and encouragement!! Also, the song is Permission by Ro James.

Summary:  Hoseok wants to audition for a position as an exotic dancer at The Pied Piper, a new strip club that provides entertainment for all. He wants your opinion of his routine. Except, you’ve been silently harboring a tiny (re: massive) crush on your friend. 

OR

You accidentally tell Hoseok you don’t find him sexy.

01, 02

"You wanna strip?" you ask, cocking a brow. 

“I need the job,” Hoseok explains. “I wanna buy Dynamite from Sejeong Hyung and run my own dance studio. Plus, it's not stripping, it's called exotic dancing.” 

“What about a loan?” you try to counter, ignoring the second part of his claim. 

“I wouldn’t even qualify for one big enough for Dynamite. This job will pay well enough to cover whatever expenses are left over after the loan” he continues.

The new strip club, The Pied Piper, provides entertainment for all and is currently hiring male exotic dancers. According to Hoseok, the type of dancing is sensual, but classy. He even pulled up a video advertisement to show you proof.

He sets his laptop on the ground in front of the two of you and presses play.

The characteristic beats of a familiar song ring through the air. Pony, how cliché. You watch the men on the screen gyrate their hips along to the beat of the greasy song, body-rolling around the stage in nothing but their fitted jeans. The physique of each man is eye catching to say the least.

The choreography is complex with each dancer making small stylistic adjustments so that they look in sync, but not matching entirely. Clearly, many of them are classically trained and/or professionals. 

Enraptured, you watch as their bodies move sensuously with the music. The clip shifts to one of the male dancers who pulls a woman on stage. A sparkling white and silver sash looped around her torso indicates she’s a blushing bride-to-be. She’s helped to a chair and approached by one of the dancers. Before the clip is over, Hoseok is closing his laptop and looking for your reaction.

“So, do you think I could do it?” he asks you eagerly.

You look into his hopeful eyes and your heart melts a little bit. He’s your Hoseok. Sweet, shy, sensitive, scared-of-everything Hoseok. You still remember how he cried when he was stung by a bee during dance camp in high school. How he has a 1.5 drink limit- half a drink better than when you both started college years ago. You try to imagine your friend dancing like the men you just watched on the screen.

“Well, those men- they’re really...” you struggle to find an appropriate term. You settle on “They’re really sexy” and then immediately regret your choice of words.

“You don’t think I’m sexy?” 

Looking at Hoseok’s crestfallen face, you rapidly launch into damage control. 

“I just mean- I’ve never seen you dance like that, Hobi”

There’s a few tense seconds of silence as Hoseok regards you before he slowly releases one long breath through his nose.

“I’ve been practicing,” he claims.

You swallow the lump in your throat at the dark look he’s suddenly giving you. It looks like danger. 

Hoseok digs a folding chair out of the dingy closet of your modest dance studio. He drags it across the floor, props it open, and gestures for you to have a seat.

Sitting on the cold metal folding chair, you cross your arms and legs. You affix the carefully crafted neutral mask over your face. Secretly, you’re proud of your ability to hide the secret crush that has been quietly brewing over the last year.

“Can I show you what I’ve been working on?” he asks.

You nod your consent.

“Good. I’d like your feedback” he smiles. 

You watch as Hoseok browses through his playlist and assume he’s looking for his audition song.

The sensuous music fills the little studio, echoing against the hard walls. The blank expression on your face hides the nervously pitter pattering of your heart. 

With your permission

Tonight I wanna be a little me on you

Your skin prickles with heat as you watch Hoseok start to dance slowly to the beat. Limbs fluid with practice and hip swaying, you’re mesmerized by his movements. 

He suddenly dives for the floor, twisting his body in a quarter turn mid-air, catching himself in a near handstand position before slowly lowering his chest, then pelvis to the floor. On hands and knees, his head swivels to make eye contact with you. He parts his legs, lowering his hips and thrusting against the ground making you gasp softly. Desire pools deep in your belly and for the first time in your life, you wish you were the flooring of this grimy, old studio.

Flipping over, Hoseok keeps his knees bent and plants his feet on the ground. Thighs spread wide, he bucks his hips up towards you. Your eyes follow the undulating of his hips as he pumps himself against the air.

Come on give me that green light

And you can let your hair hang down

But only if it feels right

You grit your teeth together to keep from panting.

He gracefully stands, adding a flourish to his movements, and begins unbuttoning his shirt as he approaches you.

At the last button, he sweeps open his top exposing the lithe planes of his chest and abdomen. Although not as muscular as the men in the video, his body is perfectly proportioned with well toned pecs and abs and delicate collarbones.

You gulp, hoping Hoseok hasn’t noticed how he’s affecting you. Watching him dance for you is alarmingly arousing.

There's a whole lot of motherfuckin' lovin' that's way past due

I owe you

With your permission

I'ma do all the things that I said I'm gon' do

Hands on your thighs, he uncrosses your legs then arms with a smirk. He straddles your lap and pulls your hands up to cup his ass. 

You feel heat lick its way up your neck and cheeks. 

This close up, you see every detail in Hoseok’s beautiful face. His perfectly sloped nose, the mole on his upper lip, every lash framing his usually warm eyes.  

Encouraging you to hold onto him, he grinds his hips against you to the beat of the song. With both hands clutching his tight gluts, you can’t help but feel every sensuous movement of his pelvis. Your mind drifts to his stroke game, sending another wave of arousal through your core. He brings one hand to your neck, long fingers wrapping around you to lock your eyes together. The other holds onto the backing of the chair he is currently defiling you against.

Satisfied with your gaze, you feel him bury his fingers in the hair at the base of your skull, scratching luxuriously against your scalp and you nearly moan out loud. Instead you bite the inside of your cheek and hold your composure.

Your hands start to wander up the planes of his back and sides, feeling the bumps and grooves of muscle and bone. 

Hoseok continues to fuck you against the chair until he draws a whimper from between your sealed lips.

He smiles in victory and buries his hand in your locks at the base of your skull and pulls. He noses along the column of exposed skin while he grinds against you making you shiver with need.

There's a tension, between us two

Red light special, girl you're special

You a blessing, so let me bless you

As the song winds down, Hoseok pulls back, eyes blackened with desire as he stares down at you. 

Like magnets, you are drawn towards each other. Hoseok presses his soft lips against yours in a tender, chaste kiss- a stark contrast to the dirty grinding of his body against yours. Hand still in your hair, he tips your head to the side sending his tongue out to lap against the seam of your lips. You part for him feeling the warm, wet muscle glide into your mouth and stealing the air from your lungs.

By the time he pulls back to study your reaction, you’re dazed and scrambling to find something coherent to say.

“Do you take constructive criticism?” you choke out, trying to sound casual.

“I only take cash” he quips back at you holding a hand out as if asking for a tip.

“Ok, well you probably shouldn’t kiss any of the patrons” you advise quietly thinking it was a planned part of his routine. 

Disappointed by your seemingly lackluster reaction to his kiss, Hoseok pulls back from you dropping his hand from your neck. 

“Is that all you have to say?” Hoseok grunts and climbs off you, no longer smiling.

“It’s just so cliché,” you try to explain.

“Yeah, well, so is falling for a friend” he throws back, hurt.

You gasp. 

“I never-” you panic.

“- I wasn’t talking about you” Hoseok effectively cuts you off.

You swear your heart stops for a second as you process Hoseok’s words. You’re speechless as he quickly packs up his belongings and takes one last look at your bewildered face before he leaves you sitting in the middle of the studio. 

[kn1feinthec0ffee]

love me love me (say that you love me) - spencer reid

spencer reid x fem!reader

title from lovefool by the cardigans 

summary: after a close brush with death in the field, y/n visits an injured spencer in the hospital to have a heart to heart.

warnings: a lil bit of angst, fluff bc im incapable of writing pure angst, descriptions of injury

word count: 1,987 

notes: this is my submission for @veraiconcos​‘ fic writer challenge, i spent a super long time on this and i really hope you guys enjoy it as its one of my favorite things i’ve ever written ☺️

********************

settling in to what would be another evening of unfortunate, unwanted solitude due to your boyfriend having yet another late night at work, you stretched out across the sofa, wine glass in hand, ready to relax after a hard day’s work.

that was until your phone began to ring and vibrate obnoxiously across the wooden coffee table.

“jj? hi, what’s up?” you inquired, curious as to why she was calling you during a case.

“we got the guy, but spence wasn’t so lucky.” she began hesitantly. “he almost got shot, but he was stabbed a few times.”

she heard your stifled gasp through the speaker, cutting you off before you would inevitably begin rambling off questions, a habit of spencer’s you’d acquired after a long while of knowing him. “don’t worry, he keeps telling everyone he’s fine. doctor says the wounds might scar, but overall he should be alright.”

you scrunched your eyes closed, willing your racing heart to slow with the news that spencer would be okay. despite jj’s calming tone and the relatively good news from the call, you couldn’t help the nagging feeling that your boyfriend was not, in fact, okay.

“thanks, babe. would you mind telling me where you guys are? am i allowed to come visit?” your voice took on a hopeful tone that your hands betrayed, anxiously twirling a loose strand of hair that had fallen out of your bun.

“visiting hours ended a little while ago, but i’m sure i can pull a few strings for you.” your chest deflated with a relieved sigh at the thought of having visual confirmation spencer would be fine. “i just texted you the address, see you soon, y/n.”

“you too. bye,” the phone dropped onto the table with a hollow clatter. you downed what little was left in your wine glass before standing up from the sofa to get ready. you still couldn’t shake the feeling that something was up with spencer so you put in an extra bit of effort to wear some of his favorite pieces of clothing of yours, just to bring a smile to his face.

———————————————

after receiving special clearance from jj at the front desk, you headed down the hallway. you never liked hospitals; you found something about about the stark white, sterile halls cold and off putting.

the door slowly opened, a gentle creak emanating from its well-used hinges. you had hoped your entrance would be quiet enough to let the boy wonder rest, but alas, he had woken up.

though the way his irises glistened in the artificial light when he saw you was just as gratifying.

“y/n, what are you doing here?” the interrogative sounded less like a question and more like an exclamation of awe, but you weren’t complaining.

“what, you didn’t think i’d show up when a little birdie told me my boyfriend was stabbed on duty? some girlfriend i’d be,” you scoffed sarcastically.

the plastic legs of the chair skidded across the linoleum as you dragged it next to the bed. spencer held out a hand towards you to hold, a sure fire sign something was wrong.

he loved affection, especially from you, but he only seemed to initiate it on blue moons.

you gratefully slipped your fingers in between his and gave them a quick, reassuring squeeze. “what happened, hon?”

his amber hues flicked to several spots around the relatively uninteresting room before landing on your intertwined digits. “we raided his apartment just like we usually do and i happened to be the first one to come across him. i saw he had a gun and i’m lucky i ducked pretty quickly or else i might not even be here at all.

“morgan and i moved in on him to make the arrest, but it slipped our minds that the profile said he was hyper-vigilant and paranoid, and i failed to notice knife he had in his other hand and he stabbed me a few times before emily pulled him away from me.” spencer recalled with an expertise that came as a surprise to absolutely no one who knew him.

“you say that like you’re reciting a poem,” you frowned, rubbing a thumb across his knuckles. “you could’ve died, spence.”

“i guess it’s just not that big of a deal to me?” he seemed to question his own statement as it passed through his lips. “i think i’ve grown so accustomed to putting my life on the line that i just doesn’t even faze me anymore.”

“i get it, but don’t you ever - i don’t know - get worried you won’t come back to me one of these days?” you averted your eyes to the floor.

his grip on your hand tightened exponentially, causing your gaze to snap up to his. “of course i do, i worry about you all the time. isn’t it normal to worry about the person you want to spend the rest of your life with?”

his admission of love brought heat to your cheeks and tears to your eyes. “good, good, i’m glad we both agree on that then.” you smiled sadly.

the presence of an oddly heavy silence weighed down on both of you as you sat in thought. “do you ever get tired, y/n?” the genius queried quietly, elaborating when he noticed the confusion etched across your features. “i mean - well - tired of me? of my life being on the line every time i go to work? of thinking that maybe that time you said goodbye to me when i left would be the last time? doesn’t that exhaust you?”

this was exactly what you had been anticipating since jj called. the drawn-out periods of unusual silence, less eye contact than normal, the anxious fidgeting. not that you’d tell him, but you’d subtly began subconsciously profiling as well. 

  “if you’re asking if i get tired of those things, then yes, i do,” you murmured softly. “but if you’re asking if being with you while i have to deal with all those things is exhausting, then my answer is no. absolutely not.”

another pause. spencer played with your fingers, fiddling around with the ring he’d bought for you as fond memories swirled through his mind. “wouldn’t it be easier if you were with someone else? i don’t know, maybe someone with an average career where they don’t look at dead bodies and arrest serial killers all the time? maybe a barista or something less traumatizing than what i do?”

your lips curled up into a smile as you giggled. “yeah, i mean, of course that’d be easier, but when has life ever been easy? and besides, why would i want a barista when i could have a badass, genius iq level guy like you?”

he grinned, holding eye contact for the longest period of time since you passed through the door. “i think those attributes directly contradict each other, but whatever makes you happy, love.” 

the tension had lifted, conversation flowing with ease, yet you could still tell there was something off about reid. something left unspoken.

“hey,” you murmured, brushing a stray strand of hair out of his face. “you sure you’re alright?”

a moment of hesitation flickered through his eyes before he answered. “of course i am. didn’t i say i was?”

“you did, but you don’t have the best track record when it comes to being honest about your emotions.” you watched several emotions pass through his eyes - one of his tells; those hazel hues could be read like a book.

he seemed to take a deep, collective inhale before he spoke in a small voice. “i know you said you weren’t tired of me, but i’m just scared you’re lying. n-not that i think you would ever be untruthful,” he immediately corrected himself upon understanding how his words could be perceived.

“i-” tears brimmed his coffee colored optics, terrifying you for what he might say next. “you’re the most important thing in my life- in the world even- and i’m just worried you’ll leave me. i’ll come home one night when you’ve decided you’ve had enough of this life and you have all your bags packed, ready to leave. i don’t want to lose you. i can’t lose you.”

noticing a few drops had landing on your lap, you realized you’d been crying as he admitted his insecurities to you. “i love you so much, spencer. more than anything in the world. and i know how hard it is to quiet those voices, and i know whatever i say will only be enough to quell them for a while, but you’re everything to me. just know i would never, ever even dream of leaving you.”

you sniffled, wiping the tear tracks from your face when you looked over to spencer. he held eye contact with you, something you knew was challenging for him to do.

“y/n,” he moved a hand to cup your cheek. “if i asked you to stay, would you?”

you let his words sink in and nodded nearly imperceptibly. you laid a kiss on his palm before turning to him again. “absolutely. i am wholly and completely devoted to you, spencer reid.”

his cheeks burned and his brows furrowed, almost as if he was having trouble accepting your straightforward answer. “do you promise?”

you debated a sarcastic response, but you were unsure what his reaction might be in such a vulnerable state, and you didn’t want to find out.

“i do, my love.” you murmured, crossing your pinky with his. he settled, visibly, too, at your admission of adoration. you knew he struggled with fully trusting those around him and you were immeasurably proud of him in this moment.

“are you heading home?” his soft lilt broke the silence that had blanketed the room with its persistent presence. “i wouldn’t blame you if you were.”

“are you kidding? after all that rom-com sappiness you think i want to leave?” you both laughed, basking in the positivity of the moment. “i’m afraid you’re stuck with me. look, i even brought a change of clothes and everything.”

while you loved the adorable look of surprise on his face, you almost wished you could wipe away any doubts he may harbor in his mind about you and your unwavering loyalty. you looked up at him again as he spoke. “are you going to sleep in that chair?”

“i’d lay with you, but you’ve got wounds everywhere and no way in hell am i risking re-opening anything that’s been sealed.” you held your hands up in mock defense, earning a chuckle from the doctor.

“you could, um, put your head on my chest,” his cheeks tinted pink. “i love it when you do that.” you planted a quick kiss on his cheekbone before pressing a longer one to his lips.

every time your lips met, as cliched as it was, it felt like the first again. not in every way, they were missing the same awkward teeth clashing and spit swapping as the original, but you could almost feel every ounce of passion jolting all the way through your being. and most assuredly, spencer reciprocated your feelings as he chased your lips every single time they made to retreat from his.

you pulled the chair as close to the hospital bed as you could and rested your head on his chest. the lyrical, constant beat of spencer’s lulled you to sleep, creating a symphony just for you.

before your eyes closed, you intertwined spencer’s fingers with yours, prompting him to look down at you. “i’ve got promises to keep, and miles to go before i sleep.”

though he knew it was medically impossible, spencer reid’s heart leapt a mile in his chest at the irrevocable love he felt for you, both in that moment and always as he completed the line, “and miles to go before i sleep.”

********************

guys wait i think this is the first ending i’ve written that i actually enjoy and i just finished this at 1am last night and i am so sleep deprived

please let me know if you want to be added/removed from my taglist!! 

tags: @sojournmichael @stinkyelf​ @crazyfore3​ @cal-ifornication​ @eggygorl02​ @howdycharlie​ @eosprincess​ @mortallythoughtfulgurl​ @illuxions-x​ @unlikelyempathpruneauthor​ @blankets-for-bees​ @holycandypizza​ @flyingbabyunicornnamedangel​ @lovelyrdjr​ @minnie-bby​ @fantastic-fans​ @ashwarren32​ @rexorangecouny​ @elitereid​ @keomoon​ @achieveonyourown​ @whogirl7​ @jjtheangel​ @carol-danvers-wife​

[lostbutterflyutau]

Adrianna’s EoA Fic Master List (Tumblr)

Because Tumblr blogs sometimes aren’t the best for searching for older fics, I’ve complied all of mine from this site into this pinned list for easy browsing. Note that these and others can also be found on my AO3 page for easier reading/tracking.

The titles are the links, unless the fic is in parts, in which case, the numbers will contain the links.

I write primarily fics centered around Carla. The centre of my romance pieces is Gabe/Carla (Gabela), as I wrote them long before I came to despise them together. However, while I no longer ship them, I am still proud of how writing them helped me improve my craft over time.

Other than those, I primarily enjoy writing family fluff with Carla and Victor or the occasional spot of angst when I’m sad.

Multi-Chapter

Welcome to the Mirror World (Intro, 1, 2, 3, 4)

While these are summaries and not full fics, my Mirror World AU is the setting for all of my fics and understanding it is necessary to understanding some of the canon-divergent plots within them. (Yes, I unashamedly stole the plot to Equestria Girls) 

When the Music Changes (1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6) (Gabela)

After graduating from school in the Mirror World, Carla returns to Avalor permanently and is presented with a new challenge far more difficult than any magic dilemma she's faced so far - finally confronting her long-hidden feelings for a certain Guard Captain who's having an equally difficult time reconciling his own for her. (This was my second EoA fic and it’s not up to par with my recent work, but I’ve still got a soft spot for it).

Como Tú Me Quieres (1, 2) (Gabela) (Explicit)

Intimate evenings were nothing new to her. But if this one happened, it would be different from any they'd shared so far. Her nervousness grows like a flame the more she ruminates on it... But Carla is nothing if not determined to at least try and see the night through. Whatever the results might be.

Romance One-Shots

Midnight Kiss (Eleteo)

Written for the EoA Secret Santa 2018 (and my most popular fic), in which Elena and Mateo enjoy a New Year’s party in the Mirror World. (This is another fic that’s not exactly on par with my current work)

A Stolen Moment (Gabela)

Drabble. When Carla finds out she’s being sent on a diplomatic mission with an escort that isn’t Gabe, she’s far from pleased and goes to his office to question him about it in private.

Bubble Baths and Blissful Reunions (Gabela) (Explicit)

After some time away on a training mission, Gabe is eager to see his fiancée again. He just hadn't expected to see her so soon. Nor did he expect the surprise drop-in to become than a simple homecoming kiss, not when there was still a pile of work to complete. As if that ever stopped Carla before.

Notes of Comfort (Gabela)

Only hours away from what may be the most decisive moment in her life to date, Carla thinks on the path that lead her there, trying her best to look forward to what lies ahead of her. Unfortunately, she is unable to force back the edge of nervousness regarding what the day means for not only her, but for Gabe and their future together. A nervousness mixed with sadness for an absence she keenly feels. But despite how lonely she may have felt in her early life, she knows that she is not alone now. Nor is she in bad company either.

Soothing the Storm (Gabela)

When storm clouds roll in, Carla is drawn from her reading and is faced with a long-hidden fear from her childhood. Fortunately, she doesn't have to weather it alone, not when Gabe is there to help her through it.

Revelation (Gabela)

Drabble. During an afternoon date, Carla realises that she’s really, truly in love with Gabe. The only question is, does he feel the same?

The Best Medicine (Gabela)

An excerpt from my WIP longfic “Matters of Care,” Gabe checks in on a sick Carla who’s giving Rafa (her caretaker for the duration of the fic) a hard time.

Parting Gift (Gabela)

Right before their first separation due to a guards’ excursion, Carla struggles with her idea of a farewell gift and if it -- and she -- are even enough for someone like Gabe.

Explicit/Smut Drabbles

Mid-Afternoon Tryst (Gabela) (Explicit)

In which Gabe and Carla get tangled up on his office couch. Because reasons.

Daylight Desires (Gabela) (Explicit)

In which comfortable lunch date turns into a steamy afternoon romp in Carla’s bed.

Break Time Bliss (Gabela) (Explicit)

In which a simple visit to Gabe’s office ends up with him and Carla again tangled together on the couch.

Afterglow (Gabela) (Explicit)

An excerpt from a longer smut piece, “By the Firelight” in which Gabe and Carla’s runaway date is ruined by rain and they make the best of the situation in the inn.

Family and Gen One-Shots

Dance Another Day (Version 1)

Though she never knew her mother, it was because of her, because of the memories, that Carla never stopped dancing. (Set in an alternate timeline where Carla’s mother died when she was born. Written before Ash’s canon reveal, this was my first EoA fic)

Sentiments

Just a small moment of contemplation from Victor during one of the nights he and Carla were staying with Shuriki post “Race for the Realm.”

“Kii”

While taking care of a sick Carla and seeing her attachment to her stuffie friend, Victor is brought back to when she got her first friend and shared a new word with him.

The Final Touch

On her wedding day, Carla is presented with a special gift from her chosen family and reflects on everything it took to get to this moment. (I filed this underneath gen because I left the ship purposely vague in the hopes that doing so would make the fic better received by the fanbase).

The Second Navidad

Written for the EoA Secret Santa 2019 and set in my friend’s AU, in which Victor, Ash and Carla celebrate their second Navidad together since her return.

In Memories and Dances

For as long as Carla can remember, dancing has been a part of her. A way for her to connect with both the mother she never met and the father who raised her on his own. But, as her and Victor's first time performing for more than a street crowd approaches, Carla can't help nerves creeping up on her. Adding to that, the pettiness of the other contestants makes her wonder if pushing through this pageant is even worth it.

Better in Purple

They said that in Paraiso everything had  'a little bit more,' including the beauty pageants. As far as Carla was concerned, 'they' were wrong. Little didn't even begin to describe the annoyance of getting ready for her first pageant in Paraiso with a coach whose tastes clashed horribly with her vision.

Angst/Heartbreak One-Shots (For My Broken Heart Collection)

True Love

"If I could do it all over, maybe I'd do it different...Maybe I wouldn't be here in this position."

The start of the Mirror World’s “True Love” timeline. If she had taken the chance and been strong enough to embrace her feelings earlier, maybe he wouldn't have had time to fall for someone else. Or maybe, it just wasn't meant to be all along. After all, why WOULD the Captain of the Guard want a former criminal?

The Invitation

In an alternate version of the “True Love” timeline, seven years after the events of "True Love," Carla is 25 and having to cope with a second wave of rejection.

Wrong Again

"What we had would never end. Wrong again."

In a different timeline, four years after the dissolution of her marriage, Carla (now 32), is faced with the task of letting go of the last remnants of happiness past as the man she once loved moves on with someone else. (This was written before Rafictor was a thing, so I made the mistake of creating an OC for him and haven’t gone back to edit her out).

Still in Love

The beach used to be a fun place. Sun, sand, laughter... memories. Now, a year after the dissolution of her marriage, Carla only finds reminders of what used to be.

Sorry for Loving You

It had only been a few hours since he woke up and found her gone. Nothing left but a ring, a letter and a signed dissolution. Despite the pain, Gabe knows that life has to go on. But merely acknowledging it and acting upon it are two different things. Especially when the pain is your own fault.

Always a Bridesmaid

Part of the Mirror World AU's "True Love" timeline. As happy as she is to see her father and all her friends find their happily ever after, Carla can't quell the feeling that she's missing out on something, even after giving up on the idea of romance.

[necr0bvnny]

Nuclear Fusion - Chapter 1

Pairing: Otto Octavius/Doctor Octopus x Original Female Character

Genres: Action, Romance, Friends to Lovers, Slow Burn, Mutual Pining, From Nobody to Nightmare, Mad Scientist(s)

Content/Warnings: Fluff, First Meetings

Summary:

Dr. Kali Kavanah, a timid woman with a genius intellect, works as the head biochemist at Oscorp Industries. Her sheltered life changes when Norman Osborn assigns her to create a special formula for him with the help of Dr. Otto Octavius. What follows is a rollercoaster of romance, betrayal, and their descent into villainy.

A/N: Hi there!! This series will basically be both a Doc Ock x OC fic and the origin story for my Spider-Man villain OC! I’ll be making art for some of the chapters (plus art for my Spider-verse in general) and adding content warnings to certain ones because I do plan for this story to get graphic at times. I hope you all enjoy!! 😊💚

Link to AO3 post

————

“Do I feel happy in life? Um.. Let’s see. Well, I do hope I’m finding happiness. For me, if I can realise certain things in my work, I come the closest to being happy and I can say that also about my life. It only happens in moments, sometimes when I'm working and I’ll be able to fulfill a project successfully and then I think I'm the happiest. While I find it very stimulating to keep studying and working, I'm not just generally happy. If I'm generally anything I'd say I’m generally miserable, hehe!”

The white mice stared up curiously at Kali as she spoke to them in a tranquil tone. Of course, they said nothing back. She liked to pretend that they did though.

“.... I don't know.” She sighed.

Kali tended to work with animals more than people now ever since being promoted to head scientist. This was both a blessing and a curse however. She loved the animals dearly and valued them as lab partners, but nothing could beat real human interaction. While she was forever grateful to be given her position after years of hard work, she wished her boss would be a little more kind. Just because she has the brain power to complete every project he throws at her doesn't mean she should be doing it all alone. But she guessed this was his way of keeping her on her toes.

She lifted one of the mice up to her shoulder and rewarded it with a small piece of an apple that she had been eating, then made sure to give the others in the glass terrarium a few slices to share as well. Nobody went hungry in Dr. Kavanah's lab.

With her test subjects fed, she picked up the cage and walked to return them with the other animals. Within a few minutes Kali was back at her lab.

Upon entering, she was surprised to see her boss standing in the middle of the room waiting for her to return. Norman Osborn, CEO of Oscorp. Wearing a dark green suit so clean that it looked as though it was bought that morning, he stood tall and proud while opening a briefcase up on one of the tables.

"Good news, Kali. I have a new project to keep you busy." He handed her a document which she immediately opened with glee and began speed-reading the first page.

"Thank you, sir! What did you have in mind?"

"I’ve just struck up a deal with a veterinary pharmaceutical company. I was hoping you can create a sort of.. animal steroid for me. All of the effects they want to see are written down for you to go over later.”

Kali closed the documents and sat them down on the closest work table, sensing that that wasn’t all Norman had to say. “Of course, sir. I’ll begin as soon as possible.”

“There is one more thing you must know about this project. The company has requested that we use some benign radioactive ingredients in the formula. Seeing as how your specialty is biochemistry, I’ve hired you a lab partner that can help you with the more sensitive materials you'll be handling."

Turning around to face the entrance, Norman then half-shouted, "Come on in."

Suddenly all of Kali's attention was on the new company entering the lab. In walked Dr. Otto Octavius, head scientist at the U.S Atomic Research Center. She felt her heart get caught in her throat as he came right up to her and offered his hand with a smile.

"Good evening, Dr. Kavanah. It's a pleasure to be working with you."

"Oh, it is an honor, Dr. Octavius! I've read nearly all of your articles and interviews."

"Please, we're going to be working together for quite a while. Just call me Otto."

"Yes, sir! I-I mean Otto.. " After realizing she was still shaking his hand, she awkwardly let go, earning a quiet chuckle from him.

"Well, now that I have you two geniuses together I should be off. Good luck." With that, Osborn was out the door before anyone could respond.

"Please, make yourself at home! The office and bathroom are that way," Kali pointed to the door and window at the far right of the laboratory.

"Ah, thank you, dear. I'll be back shortly."

Otto walked off into the office and shut the door behind him, though she couldn't see what he was doing as the window had it's blinds drawn.

Kali stood alone in the middle of the lab, still trying to process everything that was happening. She couldn't believe it. Otto Octavius himself was going to be working with her, her of all people! She had seen him in person before but only from afar at a science convention a few years ago. At that time he was first introducing the world to the concept of his masterpiece, the four-armed apparatus that he used for handling nuclear material. He had since finished it but she had only seen it in pictures. She wondered for a moment if he was going to be bringing it to her lab, and the excitement at the idea forced a little squeal out of her.

Soon enough Dr. Octavius finally exited the office holding a magazine and chuckling to himself. Once he was back in front of Kali, he showed the front cover of it to her to reveal an image of himself standing proudly in front of a mechanical arm displayed on the table behind him. Kali's cheeks burned with embarrassment.

"I see you weren't lying about being a fan. I'm guessing you may know me better as 'Doctor Octopus' as my coworkers have grown fond of calling me."

"No, sir. I believe name calling like that is a petty tactic used by the weak-minded to undermine those they don't understand."

Otto smiled wider at her words.

"Y'know, I've done my own fair share of reading about you as well. Your work is nothing short of brilliance."

Kali perked up a bit at his compliment, her cheeks burning for a different reason now. "Really?"

"Of course! I've been meaning to get in touch with you even before Osborn hired me. Seeing as how we have some free time at the moment, I'd like to get to know you better if that's alright? We are lab partners now after all."

He pulled up two chairs, sitting down in one and offering the other one to her. Kali sat down across from him with an awkward smile and thanked him.

"Um, well… I don't know what to say, hehe. I suppose you can ask me anything you're curious about!"

Kali couldn't remember the last time she had sat down with someone and talked back and forth for who knows how long, laughing and simply enjoying each other's presence. Otto asked her many questions about herself, though none too personal. Everything he wanted to know about her seemed to be trivial, things such as 'how do you like your tea?' and 'do you have any pets?'. Things Kali didn't think anyone would ever care to know about her. And yet here he was, wanting to know and seeming fully invested as she spoke about herself.

Hours passed and eventually Otto checked his watch, realizing that it was time to go home. Kali was genuinely surprised, as it only felt like minutes had gone by. As they said their goodbyes for the night, her world seemed to fade back to grey as he left the laboratory. But knowing she would see him again the next day brought a toothy smile back to her face. Moving into the office, she fell back onto the couch on the right side of the room and let out a joyous sigh. Rats may have been adorable companions, but they couldn't ask you how your day was or flash you a genuine, debonair smile like Otto could.

Her heart swelled within her chest as she spent the rest of the night thinking about her new friend.

[writesowhatnext]

how many branches does an olive tree have? // draco malfoy

Summary: Hufflepuff!reader might be the only person that’s shown Draco some actual human kindness… maybe that’s why he’s so fond. Or maybe it’s the desserts.

Request: do u mind writing a draco malfoy or one of the weasley twins hanging out with (and eventually dating) hufflepuff reader and they always return to their common rooms with baked goods/little notes?

A/N: I thought I’d have a bit of fun with this one bc I’ve never written Draco before and I thrive off of slytherinxhufflepuff so I really hope the draco isn’t too ooc and that this isn’t too long also I diverged a little but I hope you like still ++++ this is less proofread than I would’ve liked

Reader: unspecified Hufflepuff

Warnings: mean draco??

It didn’t surprise anyone, least of all you, how much Draco Malfoy disliked you at first. He had a bit of a reputation and whilst you didn’t wish to speak ill of anybody, everybody you knew considered Draco Malfoy to be spoilt, snot-nosed, selfish, haughty and spiteful. But what you noticed whenever he would provoke Harry Potter, or walk through the corridors alone, or sit studying in the library until the early hours, was how sad he looked sometimes. And so, despite the awful things you’d heard about him, you always felt rather soft when you thought of him. Even when he was being a raging arsehole.

“Hi,” you said, smiling from your seat. You were oddly optimisitc about your first lesson with the Slytherins. “I’m Y/N.”

Draco looked at you as if shocked you were even daring to speak to him, his icy blonde eyebrows drawn down and his eyes stormy. “And?”

You leant back when he turned away, clearing your throat and shuffling the parchment around on the table. You decided it wouldn’t be helpful to remind him he wasn’t your first choice of partner in Muggle Studies, either.

“So, your task is to research ten muggle inventions-“ Professor Burbage began, only to be interrupted by Draco.

“Can’t imagine why they want us to do that,” he snorted, his friends sitting behind you hanging off his every word. “Muggles have never invented anything worthwhile.”

His friends guffawed, shocking the professor. You just frowned, watching how Draco thrived off of the attention with a strange sadness.

You didn’t see him again until around a week later when you retreated to the library for a few hours before curfew. You weren’t looking for him, but it was hard not to spot his platinum hair at a table, alone in the back. Shifting your weight from one foot to the other, you debated just going to an empty table and leaving well enough alone, but then you remembered his sad eyes and your feet carried you over to him before you could stop them.

“Hey,” you said, biting your lip as you stood by one of the empty chairs, holding your books tightly. “Would it be alright if I sat here?”

He looked up at you sharply, the same half-confused, half-outraged expression in his eyes. His gaze was steady on your face for a moment before he huffed, returning to his work.

“If you must.”

You sat with him for hours in complete silence, both of you just doing your work. It wasn’t until the table began to shake with the movement of his elbow that you even looked at him. His face was scrunched up into a scowl as tried to scratch the rest of the ink from his empty pot. The sound of the quill hitting against the glass was loud and you knew Madam Pince would be over sometime soon to scold him. You figured that he’d never ask to use your inkpot, far too proud to ask for help, and so you just slid it over gently so it settled in the centre of the table, your intention obvious. His eyes on you were heavy, even as you tried to work out exactly why you would add Valerian Root to Draught of the Living Dead. The clinking of his quill stopped as he stared at you and despite yourself, you glanced up at him and offered a polite smile before turning back to your parchment.

Draco had no idea what to make of it. As he watched you scribbling on some parchment, confusion settled on his brow. Why, he thought, would a Hufflepuff he barely knew offer to help him? Part of him wanted to shove the inkpot back, too stubborn to accept help from someone like you, but the other part of himself, a part he didn’t get along with all too well, told him to shut up and take it.

And as you looked up, shooting him a brief smile that only served to deepen the crease on his forehead, he gave in and dipped his quill into the inkpot without another word. He tried not to look at you after that, sure you would enjoy seeing Draco Malfoy so weak. He could practically feel the ashamed flush on his cheeks and he hated it. But you could tell, despite his gruff façade, that he was grateful because when he stood up to leave, he stared at you for slightly too long as he placed the inkpot nearer to you and all but ran from the library without a single snarky comment or dirty glance.

Thanks only to your determination, that happened a few more times. Sure, Draco made absolutely certain to bring his own inkpot, but he looked less murderous each time you asked to sit down. One cold night with a bitter wind and a Transfiguration test you’d completely forgotten hounding at your heels, you rushed to the library. You were stopped only once on the way directly outside your common room by one of your favourite house-elves, who shoved a mini-basket of cookies into your hands, insisting that you stay warm in the cold temperatures. Whilst you were still panicking about the test, you couldn’t help but feel warm inside at the gift, a smile lifting your cheeks at how sweet it was. You rushed to your usual table, throwing the basket and your bag onto the desk and meandering through the shelves to find any books you could on the history of Transfiguration. Happy with the eight you’d found, and perhaps a little concerned you’d gone overboard, you retreated back to the table, pleasantly surprised to see a familiar mop of platinum blond.

“Hello, Draco,” you said, smiling as you set the books down. He didn’t look at you, only nodding, his focus on a textbook in front of him. You grinned anyway, enjoying the little routine you’d formed with him. It must’ve been only twenty minutes later when you crunched down on one of the biscuits you’d been given, surprised to meet a pair of grey eyes when you looked back up. He frowned at the cookie in your hand as you smiled bashfully, not intending to be caught.

“Oh,” you said, scolding yourself for being rude. “Would you like one?”

His head shot up at your question, that permanent frown still in place. He didn’t answer at first and you were afraid for a moment that you’d broken one of the unspoken rules of your acquaintanceship; the ones that only Draco seemed to know. To say you were shocked when he nodded very subtly was an understatement, but anyone with half a brain could tell how glad you were as you offered him the basket.

He looked down at the cookie in his long, pale hand as if it would bite him back. Before he ate it, though, he settled his wrists on the edge of the table and stared at you with a curiosity you’d never seen on him before.

“It’s Y/N, right?” he asked, wetting his lips.

“Yeah,” you nodded quickly, stunned that he’d remembered. You watched him think for a moment; you could almost see the cogs turning in his brain as he broke off a piece of the biscuit and brought it to his lips. It was obvious that he was deciding something but you didn’t understand what until he met your eyes again.

“Did you make these?”

His voice was stiff and unsure and you could tell how out of his depth he felt, whether it was saying more than two words to you or attempting small talk that was so unfamiliar you couldn’t say.

“No, one of the house-elves gave them to me.”

“House-elves?” he said, voice full of disgust. You frowned.

“The little creatures that work in the kitchens.”

“I know what they are,” he hissed, scowling. He swallowed harshly when he saw your face fall and for a second, he regretted his venom. “So, you’re- you’re what? Friends with them?”

As abhorrent as the idea clearly seemed to him, you appreciated how conflicted he looked, vindicated slightly at the sight of Draco Malfoy actually considering someone else’s feelings.

“Yep, they’re lovely,” you beamed, stirring something inside him. “And ever so kind.”

He just nodded, biting into the biscuit you’d given him and mulling over what you’d told him. Him saying nothing, you decided, was certainly leagues better than saying something horrible.

When he left that day, you made sure to force him to take a few more cookies, well aware that you couldn’t eat them all on your own and hoping more than anything that he’d accept it as an offering of friendship.

“Take more, please, go on.”

“I don’t…“ he trailed off, looking at you with a guarded expression.

“Please?” you begged, lifting the basket towards him. “For me?”

His eyes darted to yours as he inspected your pouting features and wide eyes, a strange fondness pulling at his chest. The way his mouth curled up ever so slightly before it was replaced with his signature grimace didn’t escape you and you grinned as he grabbed a few more, filling his pockets. He took a couple steps away before stopping short and spinning on his heel to face you.

“Thank you,” he nodded, looking very out of place, his words rushed and foreign. You didn’t mind, though, as he walked away. You just sat there, head in your books and a growing smile on your lips. You’d have to bring more desserts, you thought.

No one had confused Draco Malfoy quite like you. Not even Potter had the same irritating effect on him. And unfortunately, despite his efforts, people were starting to notice.

“Draco, what are you staring at?” Pansy asked him during breakfast, drawing his eyes away from your laughing face, your bright yellow tie.

“Nothing,” he huffed. “What are you looking at?”

Annoyance sparked in him as they laughed at his poor attempt to deflect the question.

“Is it that Hufflepuff you’re always eyeing?” Pansy pressed, an undercurrent of jealousy behind her wary curiosity.

“What?” his eyes flicked back to see you smile at him and once again, a strange feeling flooded his system.

“Don’t be stupid,” he said with much less bite than he usually would’ve. “What would I want with a Hufflepuff?”

As they laughed, moving on to another topic, he asked himself the same thing.

The next few times you saw Draco properly were in the library; he would only talk to you there, lest someone saw you and his precious reputation be ruined. You didn’t care about someone seeing you spending time together, but you let it be given how important it was to him. It was hard to say that it didn’t bother you at all, though, especially with how well you and he seemed to get along, particularly when you brought him treats. First, it was just whatever the house-elves would be kind enough to give you; biscuits here, a slice or two of cake there. When you noticed that Draco seemed to have a taste for chocolate, you started making specific requests, always making sure to give the elves clothes and some company in return. Seeing Draco walk out of the library with full pockets and a barely suppressed smile was the highlight of your day and it had, surprisingly, become an everyday occurrence. You would even go as far as to call you and Draco friends.

“Y/N,” Draco said, frowning as he wrote his Astronomy essay. You hummed, looking up to see his eyes on you. Your heart warmed at how comfortable and relaxed he looked, a far cry from how tense he’d been to start with.

“Do you know which constellation that old bat Sinistra told us to include?”

You rolled your eyes at his name-calling, shaking your head. “Nope, sorry, I’m absolutely hopeless at Astronomy. Haven’t even started the essay.”

He grimaced for a moment before pausing and brushing at the feathers of his quill nervously with his thumb.

“I could help you,” he said, gauging your reaction. “My Father says Astronomy is a subject so useless that even muggles can do it-“ he stopped himself then. He wasn’t quite sure why he cared what you thought of him, but he knew you well enough to know that you wouldn’t appreciate him talking badly about muggles and so, even though everything he’d ever said was just a regurgitation of his Father’s words, he clamped his mouth shut.

“I’m quite good at it,” he said, softer this time. “I’d be happy to teach you a thing or two.”

In all fairness to you, whilst you knew that Draco had the capacity for kindness, you didn’t quite expect him to extend it to you and certainly not enough to answer his offer with anything but a series of blinks. He was growing nervous at your lack of reply, already thinking about how foolish he’d been to even offer. Why was he even hanging around with a Hufflepuff anyways? If his father found out, he would be furious-

“I’d love that,” you said gently, interrupting his downward spiral. He visibly perked up at your response and even his face looked younger as you drew your first full smile from him. You couldn’t help but think that he looked rather more handsome when he smiled.  

“Alright,” he said, nodding. “Meet you at the Astronomy Tower tonight?”

He noticed your reluctance, frowning immediately.

“What if we get caught?”

You expected his cocky grin even less than you expected his offer in the first place.

“It’ll be fine.” he said, before his face softened. “Trust me.”

The rest of the day, you tried to convince yourself that you were nervous at breaking curfew and not at the prospect of seeing Draco outside your usual library hours. As you crept towards the Tower, flinching and ducking away from every sound that echoed through the castle corridors, you pulled at your jumper, stretching it over your hands with nervous fingers. You were barely halfway through the doorway when something behind you made a loud thudding noise and you turned, not paying enough attention as you slammed into someone. A squeak left your mouth at the impact but before you could make more of a racket, a hand covered your lips and you were left staring up at Draco Malfoy, shocked that you hadn’t noticed quite how tall he was before.

He looked at you with dark eyes and you realised that even without his hand covering your mouth, you wouldn’t have been able to breathe anyway, not with him looming over you like that. As if it didn’t faze him at all, he pulled his hand away from your mouth to his lips, shushing you gently. You nodded, not trusting your voice. Beckoning you to follow him up the stairs, you shadowed him quietly, distracting yourself with the view. When you reached the top, you lunged towards one of the windows, gasping as you looked at the whole of Hogwarts beneath you.

“It’s beautiful,” you whispered, leaning over the stone windowsill, your face against the wind. Draco didn’t say anything for a moment.

“You look different without your robes.”

You turned to him, surprised to see him watching you so intently. Not knowing what to say, you just smiled. He cleared his throat.

“Let’s get started.”

You started off well-intentioned, listening to him dutifully explain the difference between Ursa Major and Minor, the story of Andromeda and what not, but you couldn’t help but get distracted by the view, the stars spread out around you.

“Are you even listening?” he asked, eyebrows raised. You smiled bashfully at getting caught, feeling your cheeks heat up.

“Of course, I am,” you insisted, placing your palm on his bicep, a touch that didn’t go unnoticed. “Carry on.”

He stared at you for a moment, shaking his head. A fond smile pulled at his lips as he stood up, offering you his hand. You hesitated before taking it, letting him haul you to your feet. With your hands still intertwined, he dragged you over to the edge of the tower, pulling you so you leant on your elbows next to him, your arms touching. It seemed as if you were both avoiding ignoring the feeling fo your palms pressed together.

“That,” he said, pointing up to a series of stars with his free hand. “Is Draco.”

You looked at him as he stared up at his namesake, watching his expression flood with a pride.

“The dragon,” you whispered, eyes widening as his head swung around, leaving the both of you closer together than anticipated. He let himself examine your face, taking in every detail, from your brow to your cheeks to your lips; ever so slowly, memorising every curve.

“I’ve never met anyone like you,” he said, his eyes soft. You bit the inside of your cheek, smiling slightly.

“No one else brings you cakes? That’s a tragedy.”

He huffed a laugh, the corners of his lips curling up.

“I’m inclined to agree.”

harry potter tag list:

@creator-appreciator​

@decadentwastelandtrash

@loveisblindness​

@xinyourdreamsx​

@brainlesspasta​

@hariosborn​

@staringmoony​

@rexorangecouny​

@alittletoomanyobsessions​

@peachesandpinks​

[stopeatingwhales]

about a girl x kurt cobain

hi guys omg- it’s been too long since i’ve last posted something, and my nirvana obsession has risen once again so what a thought into writing something dedicated to the one and only kurt himself <3 thank you ever so much to the person who requested this, i managed to write something i think i’m somewhat proud of aha

Pairing: pre-bleach era kurt x reader

Warnings: nothing! 

Word count: 2.165

Requested by anon <3

༉‧₊˚✧

Waiting for him to appear on stage for the first time was like a moment snatched out of a drunken stupor: so surreal I had to continuously pinch myself every few minutes for reassurance that this was really happening. With a mind cluttered in thought, it became hard to sit still for as little as ten seconds without being accompanied by an itch to either scratch my scalp in nervousness, or chew on my already bitten nails - attempting to sand off their roughened look from my previous antics. The most I had drunk that night was a couple sips of my gingerish coloured beer - with the room buzzing in anticipation and curiosity for who was headlining the bar tonight, it caused everything that even shifted slightly in its position to irritate me in all ways plausible. Unsurprisingly, I couldn’t manage to let anything settle in my stomach without having a sudden rush of nausea bubble up in my throat; it was Kurt’s first performance tonight with his new, reformed band, and being told that he was quite nervous triggered an anxiety in my veins stronger than the pain of the first rush of heroin dousing my body after months of not being able to get hold of it - allowing all my stress, agony and dread to escape my body at an expeditious rate as my body adorned the poison I was granting into my limbs. It was inevitable: Kurt was bound to be nervous before his first performance with new material to a bunch of strangers that had never seen the wonders of his model-face before, and although he had performed many times, a grasp of worry still caught into his hair as he tried to pass the time, like a knot you seemingly are unable to rid of, leaving you with no other choice but to resort to grabbing a pair of kitchen scissors and chopping that bunch of hair off. Which he had done many times. 

Whilst time speedily went on, I found myself calming down by a small amount, consoling myself with different types of remedies in solution: downing my drink, ordering another (this time a gin & tonic to spice things up) and repeating the same, before slamming my now empty glass to the table and standing up to get a clearer view of the stage, knowing they were going to come on soon. All that wondered in my mind was Kurt, quickly reminding myself over all the time we had spent together - the times when we had first become friends. I had been introduced to him early last year when Krist had asked me if I wanted to see his new band he was bassing for - and immediately was I enthralled, knowing that once I had laid my eyes on him, I would never be able to detach them from him: a poor man, masked in aristocracy in ways not physical as it may seem. He captivated me. His presence carried such warmth it was able to counter against the sun; your cheeks immediately burning as he locked eyes with you. You instantly wanted to wrap your arms around him, and when talking, you were instantly drawn to his short yet meaningful phrases, laced in passion stronger than an avocado seed. As my eyes were locked firmly together with his, I was able to notice something so pure and wondrous I had been unsuccessful in finding in anyone else: care. A simple emotion, somehow one of the hardest to master. Regardless of what the subject matter might be, he always carried a certain interest to it - constantly having something to say. Even if you found him sitting excluded from everyone else, you could notice that there was something either battling his mind, or inspiring him for something - new music, lyrics perhaps. It’s enticing, it's human. He’s human.

Suddenly, a distorted strum of a guitar abruptly blared through one of the many amplifiers dotted around the small stage at the end of the room. The crowded space was now silenced by the hasty noise, my (slightly intoxicated, yet conscious) head now instantly turning to see what had happened - although I was for certain it was the time I had been most excited for. Little whispers and hushes were the only things you were able to hear for the span of a few seconds as the amp's sound had silenced itself, a small buzz affiliating throughout the room, a couple of heads turning back and forth to see the number of people collectively awaiting to listen to the music of the unknown band performing tonight. My eyes stayed glued to the stage as I pictured his character, standing there in the middle, Krist and Chad capturing the rest of the space, adorned by their instruments - playing along to Kurt’s beautiful melodies. Gazing at his figure, beautifully formed with such masculinity, decorated with concerning parts of emeation, slowly embarking its way through to the middle of the stage - guitar gripped firmly in arm - birthed dozens of baby butterflies inside my stomach, tickling my insides in all sorts of ways. My nervousness resurrected itself once again, as I had come to a realisation that I wasn’t imagining anything at all.

Silence. 

No introduction, nothing. From his immediate grace to the stage, I could tell he was nervous; the bright light emitting onto his face allowed me to see his features much more prominently - allowing you to just about to see the small stubble that was forming on his face from his forgetfulness to shave in the morning. However, I wasn’t able to admire his face for long, only for a few seconds before he fixed his gaze to his electric guitar, placing his fingers on specific chords, then turning to stare at his bandmates. A couple looks were shared between them all, a mere roll of the eyes from Chad, a small smile from Krist towards Kurt - for motivation, as the good friend he was. Kurt on the other hand didn’t change his facial expression, only nodding his head at both the boys before switching back to stare at the instrument adorned by his grip, beginning to bob his head slowly - counting himself in. Even from afar I was able to tell that at that single moment, he didn’t carry a care or a worry for anyone but his guitar, focusing all his energy and thought into this one specific thing: the start of the performance. 

1...2...3...4

As the music began, a smile branched onto my cheeks instantly. A song I recognised, my heart warming as I realised what was playing. About a girl, the song we wrote together. 

Usually, Kurt would write alone, not wanting anyone else’s input and ideas; all the band played was what Kurt had written, for it was truly only his work on that stage, just a few people helping out to put it together in life form. However, there was a significant time after a band practice weeks ago where I had attended due to me having nothing else to do, and watching the three of them play always made me feel content - holding my heart with hope for the new wave of music they were producing. As they were packing up their stuff at the end of the rehearsal, Kurt had slowly wandered off from tidying up and had come up to me, awkwardly wanting to show me what he had written for a random song: hungry for my opinion even when he never really cared what anyone thought of his music. We ended up co-writing that specific song together, the song sounding the room at this very moment. As I stared at Kurt all that was met with my eyes was his entire concentration to perfect everything that he was playing; every move of the finger producing a different sound as he attempted to hit all the ones significantly partnered with the song. He knew I was watching him, that’s why he played this song first and foremost. 

Lifting his head up from the guitar, his mouth instantly pressed itself onto the microphone, revealing his raw, raspy vocals. My eyes were physically unable to detach themselves from the sight I was seeing at this very moment. They had performed multiple times before, yet this time, something felt different. New. Almost as if everything pieced in together, and with just a bit of sanding around the edges - they’d be perfect, unlike any band I had ever seen live. Watching the crowd’s attention simply staying undivided towards the band made me feel a sort of elation the morning of Christmas would give you, the sensational feeling hitting you that its the date that brought everyone together; this time the music was the thing that brought everyone together. My eyes scanned the crowd, noticing some people bobbing their heads, surprised by their immediate tunes that were being emitted from the song, widening my smile - if that was even humanly possible at this moment. Their fresh, uncensored, gruffy sound was something not many bands at the time even thought about playing - that was for people who were behind their time, Sex Pistols era almost. The feeling that warmed my heart at that moment was something indescribable - illegitimate for words. It felt like a lighter had torched its way into my body, the sharp pain bruising a bright crimson all the way up my torso to my cheeks, a breath hitched back in my throat as I slowly figure out the way to breathe again. The pain that caressed my heart so dearingly was also paired with a strong sense of joy. Happiness. Delighted that the pieces of such a complex puzzle were fitting together. 

As a minute or so went on, the crowd slowly began to get more and more into the music, some people now swaying their hips or dancing around with their friends. I couldn’t help but wonder how Kurt was beginning to feel, or what he was already feeling. Euphoria at the highest degree, something so strong not even a multiload of ecstasy could even attempt to give you. I found myself singing along to the words quietly, resulting in the people around me noticing that I was the only one who actually knew the song apart from the band. A random guy had turned to look at me, drink firmly gripped in hand, and with his rough attempt to shout over the loud music, whilst pointing towards the stage. “You know them?”

For a couple of scenes everything went still. I stopped moving, my eyes slowly getting lost with the man standing on the stage in front of me as I accidentally ignored the stranger’s question. I continued watching the stage, my eyes focused on Kurt - until his eyes abruptly opened, locking in with mine instantly. Startled, he noticed my starstruck expression, a little grin hanging off his lips. Maybe it was out of arrogance, however I knew he wasn’t planning on taking them off soon - not that I’d be the one to complain. His eyes were bright, glimmering with happiness; filled with life and fertility as they pierced into my soul so daringly, carrying the same devilish want that Adam had been challenged with once told not to eat the apple off the tree - his mind so intrusive he was simply unable to resist. His wondrous orbs carried a hint of impish, vanity, as they were also laced with a hint of seductivity and perhaps a shed of horniness, sudden greed blistering over his ocean-like eyes; he wanted it all, in the most wicked of ways. It would be a white lie if I had said this didn’t make me feel some sort of way; had he never looked at me like that before, I might’ve said otherwise. Perhaps his sudden bursts of confidence spewing out of him made him act this way, regardless, I knew it was something real. His eyes bestowed the same hunger he had initiated into his sudden approach when asking me what I thought of the music he had written, the first time me and him truly bonded together. I seemingly was unable to detach my eyes from him, for my body, heart and mind stayed encompassed in thought of how bewildered I was; in simply over a year, I had watched him grow, become more confident, sanguine, and it was all showing off now. He was staring at me as if the world was ending, and that I was the last thing he wanted engraved in his mind, aiding him into dying in such complacency it was almost as equal as equilibrium in the world of absolute zero. “Yes I do,” I muttered, nudging the unfamiliar person whom I hadn’t even set eyes upon. Feeling his gaze burn into my cheek, I continued to focus my eyes on Kurt, my tongue licking the sides of my mouth as I figured out words to muster. “That’s my boyfriend,” 

[qwertyfingers]

WOO CONGRATS ON THE TEET YEET!!! also also, your poetry is beautiful. can i ask how you got started?

thank u!!! apologies for how long this answer got i’m waffling

so i feel like the start of my answer is kind of unhelpful because i really just. started writing? no one encouraged me or helped me or anything i really just ran with it on my own. a lot of how i write is really just how i think - the metaphors and similes and weird comparisons come very naturally to me. i have no idea if this is how other writers feel?? but i can’t give any advice on how to develop that beyond just. writing a lot.

i’ve find poetry to be really good emotional outlet, so a lot of what i write about is very repetitive in terms of themes - a lot of mentions of my dad and my stepdad, compulsions, teeth and while i don’t think any of what i wrote back then was very good or worth sharing it did give me a lot of practice in kind of. building a writing headspace?

i can’t really point to any specific inspirations early on because i really didn’t read very much. most of my favourite poems when i was younger were very structured and used a lot of rhyme - i really enjoyed war poetry when we studied it in high school for example - but i’ve always written pretty loosely, a lot of enjambment and playing around with formatting. i felt very drawn to mary oliver and richard siken when i discovered them in my mid-late teens (although i defintiely think that i understand them better rereading them now as an adult). 

i’ve written many different styles of poem, but i really only have two style of writing behaviour: either i write total stream-of-consciousness and don’t edit it until i’ve totally run out of things to say - pompeii, reimagined from this collection was written this way, as was FOIL - or i write very conscious of the formatting from the start - some examples of this are unholied, ajovy and my father thinks i should learn how to code. sometimes there’s a crossover like in inelegant fingers but typically its one or the other.

the city i live in now has a pretty big ~poetry scene~ with several regular live readings, even more random events throughout the year, and people regularly coming from out of town to read here. i hiiiiighly recommend going to readings if you live somewhere that you can get to them because it can expose you to a really wide range of writers, from first-timers to people with long publishing histories. being involved in that scene really taught me that there’s really no hierarchy of talent, that there are fantastic writers at every ~skill level~. and more than anything, that it’s possible to hate a poem or poet and still get a lot out of their work. i’ve made a lot of friends through going to and helping to host events too :) 

some recommendations for writing that i personally find useful:

spend a lot of time thinking about writing! when i’m out walking, even when i’m getting groceries, i’m spinning thoughts around my head about writing. i frequently think up what i think of as the ‘headline’ of a poem when i’m busy doing something else. write that shit down! keep a notebook or note on your phone and write them down. 

relatedly: absolutely cannibalise your old poems. if you’ve got a piece you don’t like any more, or that you could never finish but you’re attached to it, steal your favourite lines and work them into soemthing else, or challenge yourself to rewrite that poem in a new style or format

i keep a word doc full of lines and phrases i liked that i couldn’t fit into anything or that weren’t developed enough that i go back to and take things from. sometimes it’s just a handful of words - ‘ transposing neuroses onto neurons’ sat in that doc for months before i used it - and sometimes its entire lines or even stanzas. i also paste in here things i deleted from existing pieces during editing - sometimes you like something but just not in its current setting yknow

give yourself writing challenges! there are allllll kinds of things you can challenge yourself to do. find a photograph you like, and try to write the feeling it gives you, or write about the content of it, or from the perspective of the person taking the picture. pick an album or song and listen to it on repeat and write. go to different places and see if your writing feels different there. write a poem first thing in the morning or on your lunch break or write before you go to bed. write when you feel really happy, or scared, or angry or tired. write about someone you love, or someone you really hate. write using found-language - blackout poetry is one version, but you can also cut words out and collage them. a friend of mine wrote an amazing poem using ads on gumtree. i like to hit random page on wikipedia and challenge myself to write using the words on that page or about the content of it. i dont find timed challenges helpful but some people do. experiment! ask your friends for prompts! if you’ve friends who also write poetry, give eachother challenges and give eachother feedback

also, if you’ve got friends who write, absolutely ask for their input on a piee if you get stuck. my friend tasha frequently helps me with my grammar and punctuation to improve clarity and many more people have helped me with ideas, promts, challenges and encouragement :)

my personal favourite: write about fiction! a lot of my favourite of my own poems were about this. ;kodos in error - which desperately needs reworking but that i’m nevertheless very proud of - was written about the tarsus iv storyline in the original star trek. the only overt reference to it’s origin is the name kodos in the title - and it’s very much about myself too - but ultimately the entire time i wrote it i was thinking about that plot. i’ve also written about fortnite and the expanse  

play around with what you want from a poem. sometimes it’s emotional, sometimes it’s all about the sound and the feel of it in your mouth, sometimes it’s about imagery and giving the reader a clear picture of something. Sometimes you want to do something fun with the formatting, or make it short and snappy or long and lilting. Try not to get stuck in one type of poem. 

personally unless i’m writing for a specific thing - like a reading of to submit to a specific journal - i never think about a reader until i’ve finished at least the first draft. i’m not a professional; i share the things i like but ultimately i write for myself only. i don’t need to have an audience in mind for anything i write, and i think that helps me. not everyone finds this easier, but i do.

read poetry! read absolutely anything you can get your hands on - even when you don’t like something you can learn from it. poetry foundations 

talk about poetry! i didn’t go to school for creative writing and most of what i learned in HS went totally over my head, but i find talking about poetry i like with friends to be infinitely valuable. discussion will help you find things you didn’t see before, and understand why the things you do like resonate so much, how you can maybe replicate those in your own writing etc.

if you’ve never written before, it is literally never too late to start. just get going! don’t let your inner critic get in the way, just write and write and try not to worry too much about whether its ~good~ until you get more used to writing.  there are a thousnad different ways for a poem to be Good. if you write for emotional release and it works then its good. if you write to get other people to understand how you feel and that comes through, its good. if you just want to make it sound a certain way then its good. 

<3

[nooowestayandgetcaught]

ALL 40 BAYBEE!!!!! GIMME SUM ANSWERS

5) Share one of your strengths.

Being,,, prolific?? ?????? ??? ???????????

6) Share one of your weaknesses.

My own mind. No really I'm basically my own worst enemy because I'm too much of a perfectionist and hate myself and mess myself up.

7) Share a snippet from one of your favorite pieces of prose you’ve written and explain why you’re proud of it.

Stars are the many, many eyes left behind of the Old Gods.

Arya heard this before. She's heard that the stars are the last of the Weeping Lady's tears. They are the eternally bleeding wounds of the Great Shepard according to the Dothraki. They are the drops of poison given to Baelor the Beloved as he laid asleep. They are the immortal sparks of R'hallor's breath. Arya believes the stars are nothing. They exist in a chasm of darkness and death, and no-one is meant to understand why.

Evermore (T, Arya Stark & Sansa Stark, Game of Thrones, 1179 words)

I HAD A LOT OF FUN GOING THROUGH WESTOROS MYTHOLOGY AND TALES IN HISTORY TO MAKE THAT PART. AND THEN WRITING OUT ARYA'S THOUGHTS ABOUT THAT.

8) Share a snippet from one of your favorite dialogue scenes you’ve written and explain why you’re proud of it.

"I liked this shirt, you know," Will complains faintly.

Behind him, one of the car-windows rattle. A badly burned hand emerges from the smoke, clawing helplessly.

"We will find you another," Hannibal tells him, disregarding the murderer's intense, gagging screams.

"That's not the point."

"You're holding on needlessly to the limited value of your material possessions, Will. That's not like you." Hannibal lightly clucks his tongue as if disapproving, approaching him and thumbing down Will's jaw. He's warm and wet, and glorious. He's evolving.

"Says the man who buys Patek Philippe wristwatches," Will retorts softly. "For his own pleasure."

The corner of Hannibal's mouth smirks.

"And what kind of pleasure exists within your mind's eye right now, Will?"

"Ripping out your jugular vein with my teeth," Will murmurs, stroking his lambskin-gloved thumb against Hannibal's neck.

"I would be honored."

The Crescendo Of Dying Screams (M, Will Graham/Hannibal Lecter, Hannibal (TV), 908 words)

THIS IS JUST FUN!!! THEY WERE FUN TO WRITE FOR AGAIN AND I HAVE NOT WRITTEN FOR HANNIGRAM IN A WHILE!!

13) What’s the best writing advice you’ve ever come across?

Even if you think it sucks,,,, write it down anyway and then fix it later. The important part is to write and start writing.

14) What’s the worst writing advice you’ve ever come across?

Thankfully,,, I don't think I've come across any yet.

15) If you could choose one of your fics to be filmed, which would you choose?

I would love to see Perambulate (G, Princess Bubblegum/Marceline & Prince Gumball/Marshall Lee, Adventure Time, 1358 words) done in a comic at least because I NEED THESE TWO CANON COUPLES TO MEET AND BE SILLY. CANON WLW AND MLM.

16) If you only could write one pairing for the rest of your life, which pairing would it be?

NOT REALISTIC. I DO NOT FUNCTION LIKE THAT

17) Do you write your story from start to finish, or do you write the scenes out of order?

I start out from beginning to ending but sometimes I gotta skip around to keep it going if I get stuck.

18) Do you use any tools, like worksheets or outlines?

*shrugs*

19) Stephen King once said that his muse is a man who lives in the basement. Do you have a muse?

It's probably a little moth trapped in a jar and beating itself senselessly against the glass, but it kind of enjoys it??

20) Describe your perfect writing conditions.

Wrapped in a blanket, alone in my room with headphones and music blasting, with a large water bottle and a little bit of chocolate.

21) How many times do you usually revise your fic/chapter before posting?

Depends really! Sometimes I'll go through and correct once, and sometimes I will go through like 14 times in one day!

24) Have you ever deleted one of your published fics?

I have! I will upload it again sometime but like,,,,, the person I had made it for in an AO3 fest basically fucked off and me removing it was me going "nah fuck this,,,, it ain't yours anymore!!!"

27) How do you feel about collaborations?

I have done them! I think they're nice! I do not like long term collaboration projects but for a oneshot, yes!

28) Share your favorite fic writers and why you like them so much.

@glove23 - I look up to this fic writer so much! They have been battling depression and anxiety, and the complexities of their ADHD, for such a long time and whenever they post something,,, I get so excited! I'm really proud of them! It's hard enough for me to write on a bad mental health day, and I know the struggle they go through, and it's INCREDIBLE to see what they can do! They have been writing since they were young and it really shows how much they love writing and how hard they work on getting the characterization and dialogue to be spot on! Obsessed with their work! (AO3)

@not-so-mundane-after-all-97 - What a powerhouse! Incredible writing and fantastic handling of how she structures plot! Constantly in awe of the ideas she has and when they are well-executed (and they are all of the time)! If you are a fan of Will/Lyra from HDM, this is the person to go to for quality! I promise! (AO3)

other writers I really like are @spookywitchnerd24, @theschubita, @anxiouss-princess, @asajjvxntress, @kingburu, @rapha-writes

29) If you could write the sequel (or prequel) to any fic out there not written by yourself, which would you choose?

ngl I really wanna do the "they get back from horse riding and Aleksander refuses to leave Alina's side while she's getting healed" sequel to you are too well tangled in my soul by @glove23

31) Do you take liberties with canon or are you very strict about your fic being canon compliant?

Meh. It depends on the thing I'm writing.

32) How do you feel about smut?

I write it all of the time and read it all of the time. I don't think it's a big deal at all. I respect that it's uncomfy for a lot of people

33) How do you feel about crack?

It's fun! And it can be done well! I saw more crack fic being done back in,,,, like the early 00s and now I don't see it as much,,,,, sad

34) What are your thoughts on non-con and dub-con?

You know what,,, I was just discussing the psychology of why noncon fic is so popular on AO3 (and I have written it before and to my surprise IT GETS THOUSANDS AND THOUSANDS OF VIEWS) and,,, I think the key components to answering this question is understanding that 1) AO3 allows noncon fic to exist therefore it's a dumping ground and 2) rape culture is so embedded into US-centric society especially and 3) there's a lot of traumatized people on AO3 and likely creating noncon to process what happened to them and 4) it's a taboo subject and humanity has been drawn to and obsessed with what is taboo since forever,,,, and tbh the taboo is fascinating to me! It does draw me in! I have written for it and I've read it, and I think it's important to ask questions and examine why we do this!

35) Would you ever kill off a canon character?

HELL YEAH. ABSOLUTELY. I HAVE DONE IT BEFORE AND I'LL DO IT AGAIN!! I prefer more "oh my god they're dead--OH! now they're alive! yayyyyy!" over permanent character death

36) Which is your favorite site to post fic?

AO3. AO3 is queen. I'm not gonna badmouth FFN and Wattpad in terms of people who go there because that's your business however FFN and Wattpad are largely restrictive and mainstream corporate owned areas of interest that don't give a single shit about their users.

38) Talk about a review that made your day.

Whenever my writer friends comment on my fic,,, I literally get emotional. Like those are my favorite comments to see :)

39) Do you ever get rude reviews and how do you deal with them?

BE SAD FOR HALF A SECOND AND THEN FIGHT.