#anyway every piece of fic that's ever been posted IS a gift and you SHOULD treat it as such

[birlwrites]

i'm far from being the first person to say this, but i do think it bears repeating - requesting that an author write more does not always come across as a compliment.

in fact, it usually doesn't. most writers are writing either as much as they want to write, or as much as they are able to write. and writing is labor! it's meant to be fun, but it is very much still labor.

i understand the impulse behind wanting to ask for more (whether it's more of a specific story, more set in a particular universe, or just more writing in general), and i understand why people would think of it as a compliment - someone saying they'd love to read more of your writing is a good thing!

but when people ask for more, usually they're not saying 'this is great, i'd love to read more of your work.' they're saying 'i need more,' or 'i need [specific ficlet/additional content idea], you KNOW you want to write it,' or sometimes they're just saying 'MORE.'

when you say that to a writer, it comes across as demanding. like saying 'what you have already written and shared with me is not good enough for me, and you are now required to fix that for me.' EVEN IF that wasn't how you meant it.

i've read along with wips for which i desperately wished the author could update more often. i've read one-shot fics that i would LOVE to read 100k+ of. wanting more is not a bad thing! just please be thoughtful with regard to what you say to writers, as well as how you say it. everyone's trying to have fun here.

[prince-rowan-of-the-forest]

A Tale of Two Dragons

1/6 - The Reject Prince

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| Ao3 | Next Chapter -> |

Roman was everything a prince should be and more.

He was beautiful, he was powerful, he was loved by all in their kingdom. Even the earth bent to his will.

Remus was nothing but a distorted mirror of his brother.

At least maybe that could work in his favour for once.

Not that anything ever really did.

----

Warnings: Negative self talk/image, thoughts and discussions about kidnapping/murder

Pairings: endgame anaroceit, pre-established Roceit, platonic LMP

Word Count: 1174

Notes:

Inspired by This Post by @fangirltothefullest (absolutely brilliant art, have a look :3) though of course I've added my own fantasy royalty twist xP. (Sorry for the tag if you don't want it lol I just want to give credit where it's due :3)

A fic that's been in the works for a little while!! I have a few chapters already written which is fun! Hopefully you'll enjoy! :3

I'll be posting this every Monday (hopefully)

----

Roman was everything a prince should be and more.

He was beautiful, he was powerful, he was loved by all in their kingdom. Even the earth bent to his will. 

Roman’s hoard of gold was something any other dragon would be envious of, his friends were lovely and loved him in return, they treated him well and never once made him feel like he wasn’t enough. In return Roman protected them all. Gifts and beautiful things were bestowed to everyone he cared about, the kingdom was happy with their Prince - the most powerful being they’ve seen since the beginning of the royal lineage, with both goddess and dragon ancestry. Roman was truly perfect, in every sense of the word. 

With his power he had enchanted a set of jewellery to give a piece to each of the people he cared most about. He himself wore a crown of course. Janus, his spymaster and a magical refugee from a neighbouring hostile kingdom - had earrings. Logan, his advisor, had a bracelet and Patton, the palace chef, had a necklace. 

The jewellery was enchanted to warn Roman when its wearer was in danger, so he could rush to the aid of the people he loved whenever they needed him. 

Remus, of course, hadn’t gotten a thing. 

It wasn’t necessarily Roman’s fault. Roman was more powerful, more beautiful, more loved, brighter and bolder in every way. Remus - his brother who’d inherited none of the same power - faded into the background. Sometimes even he wondered if he still existed. Remus didn’t think Roman loved him, but he wouldn’t blame Roman for that, Remus was difficult and weak, he was shorter and plainer and lacked all the magic Roman had. All he’d gotten were golden eyes and short stubby dragon wings that had never grown in fully. He couldn’t even fly. 

Remus sighed as he watched Roman laugh with his friends, all of them sitting together having a picnic Patton had put together next to the fountains in the palace gardens. Remus hadn’t been invited, all he could do was watch from the balcony in his room and sigh, wishing he could be in his brother’s place for just one day. 

He could kill him - but Roman was some kind of dragon cross demigod, it would take a lot of effort and power that Remus didn’t have, and what good would that do anyway? Remus.. Well, he couldn’t say he loved his brother, but everyone else did, killing him would be cruel. 

Kidnapping him was another option, but again Remus would gain nothing… maybe if he looked more like his supposed twin he could take his place, but…

An idea popped into his head and Remus fully sat up with the force of it. It was a great idea, one with the potential to get exactly what he wanted. All he had to do was convince the hermit witch who lived out in the forest to give him what he wanted. He’d pay any price, it didn’t matter to him, maybe he’d finally get to know what it felt like to be loved. The witch could make them care about him, he could make the whole kingdom care about him. The witch could make Remus powerful or strong or beautiful and then he could do it. Yes, it was the perfect plan! He’d get their respect somehow, no matter the cost. 

—-

“No.” The witch said sharply, before attempting to slam the door in his face. Remus stuck his foot between the door and the frame, wincing at how hard the door was slammed but otherwise not wavering.

“Pleeeease?” Remus said, “Please please? I’ll do literally anything, any cost whatever - I just - I want them all to notice me! I wanna know what it’s like to be my brother y’know?”

The witch stopped for a moment, taking in Remus and his desperation, before finally letting out a heavy sigh.

“Fine, but don’t touch anything, and if you don’t want what I’m offering I’m gonna cast a memory spell on you to make you forget you were here, is that agreeable?” The witch said, tone almost bored. 

“Yeah sure fine whatever, what do I need to do?” Remus said, hurriedly following the witch into his house.

The interior was just about as dark and gloomy as the witch himself. The house was covered in spider webs, the room they stood in was dimly lit and cluttered enough that Remus had trouble picking a place to stand. Everything was black or purple aside from some of the clearly magical items littered around shelves and sitting on top of cabinets in bowls or pots. At the back of the room was a bigger open fireplace than anything they had at the palace, probably because it was made to hold a large cauldron. The witch himself was pretty similarly decorated, clad in black and purple and a cloak covered in spiderwebs, his hair was long and black too though curlier and highlighted with purple (this guy must be dedicated to his colour scheme). 

The witch looked almost the same age as him - unexpected when most stories depicted the witch as an old woman, but whatever. He was currently mumbling something as he picked through a large bookshelf. 

“So,” Remus said, standing there awkwardly and trying not to touch anything, “You got a name?”

“Not for you,” the witch huffed, “You’re Remus, the reject prince.”

Remus winced, but nodded, “Yeah - that’s me, so uh - what’ve you got for me then?”

“Well -” the witch said, mumbling something else as he pulled a book from the shelves, “The easiest way to get what you want, would, I believe, be to become your brother.”

“I- what?” Remus asked.

“I told you you could go if you don’t like it,” The witch shrugged.

“No no- that’s not- elaborate? Please?” Remus said holding up his hands, the witch groaned. 

"You kidnap your brother, bring him here, I make you a potion that turns you into him, hurray you have the life you want and I have access to the Prince, we both win as long as you can keep up the charade, sound good?" The witch asked, flicking boredly through the book he was holding, Remus' eyes widened. 

"What do you mean - access to him?" Remus asked, frowning, "I don't wanna hurt him." 

"Right -" the witch huffed, like he really didn't want to be explaining at all, "Well - I need his DNA to make the potion, and I need to be able to get more of that when it runs out, besides, you can't have him hanging around if you're pretending to be him, right?" 

"...Right," Remus nodded, frowning, "You're right, so what do I do?" 

"Give him this,' Virgil said, going over to another shelf before pulling out and offering Remus a little bag of herbs, "Sprinkle it on his food or something, he'll be asleep in minutes, then bring him out here and I'll do the rest." 

Remus hesitated, before reaching to take the bag, "Okay - I'll do it." 

----

@imhere-imqueer-ilikedeer (you asked to be tagged when I posted this one specifically :3)

Tags: @full-of-roman-angst-trash @your-local-random-dino @cutebisexualmess @glacierruler @roseianxiety @bella-bugatti-frogetti-baguetti @scalesfeathersnfur @oatmealdaydreams @littlerat2 @goldnskyart (if anyone wants to be added, let me know!)

[arctrooper69]

What Hurts the Most

A piece I wrote as a gift to @staycalmandhugaclone featuring her OC Doc and my Jedi!OC Danika. Set sometime after the season 2 finale.

❤️ Thank you for giving me permission to post this ❤️

Doc x Danika

WARNINGS: PLEASE READ BEFORE CONTINUING. Viewer discretion advised. This is a bit darker than my usual fics. Suicidal ideation, self harm, survivors guilt, blood, medical care. Major angst but there's a good amount of comfort.

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

I couldn’t help myself.

The knife was in my hand, fingers curled tightly around the handle. It was almost surreal, but some part of me knew what I was doing. Some secret, sick, violent part of my mind urged me on, begging me to end things right here and now.

I don’t know why I did it. It just kind of happened. The knife seemed to slip as if it had taken on a life on its own and I was simply a passerby watching as the edge slid across my skin, drawing such a beautiful red.

It would make the pain go away. Of that I had fully convinced myself. The deeper the blade sunk, the more I found myself sinking along with it. Those heady crimson rivets fell like waterfalls and I wanted nothing more than to let them wash me away.

Let the Force take me like it took so many others before me.

It was only fair. Why did I have to be the one left behind again and again? I was nothing.

I was angry.

What did I do to deserve all of this? Why was I destined to fail each and every time I tried so hard to reach for success? What was the point of being a Jedi when there was no one left to save?

I had failed them. I had failed all of them. Master Plo. Lia. Echo. Hardcase. Fives. Kix. Comet. Sinker. Commander Wolffe. I couldn’t name them all and that broke me too. What good am I if I can't even remember the names of all the lives I could’ve saved?

All the Jedi? I remembered some.

Asher. Kylah. Willa. Torik. The younglings I pulled from the burning Temple. They were all gone now too - a testament to my weakness - only proving that I didn’t have what it took.

And Lia.

My precious Lia. Sacrificed herself in battle to save her men and I wasn’t there to save her. I felt her life flicker out like a candle and a part of me was gone as well. Maybe Master Plo knew, though he never said anything. I found myself wishing that he did - that maybe it would’ve been enough for the Council to throw me out - to spare me of all the pain to come.

Then Kix.

I’m so sorry, Kix.

Gone. Dragged away by Separatist droids as I lay bleeding in the street, unable to do anything but scream for them to stop - as if they’d listen to me. Powerless. Unable to help.

More like unwilling.

I should’ve forced myself to move. I should have willed my body back together. The Force could’ve done such miraculous things. But not through me.

The cybernetics in my spine ached - a gift from Master Krell. I tallied Umbara as the highest price for my failures. Allowing my anger to save and defend the honor of lives that would ultimately be lost anyway. Brother against brother orchestrated by Krell’s own hand.

Another unforgivable act.

I should’ve been able to face him. I should’ve been able to subdue him - to protect my men - not be flung aside like some helpless child. Maybe Kix would’ve been able to save more of his brothers if he hadn’t had to come and save me.

The thoughts came faster and more chaotic as they came, swirling and spiraling ever downwards like the blood that fell from my wounds.

---

I could hear footsteps now, thundering up the stone pathway. Quick and deliberate.

The sky was so pretty tonight, sun sinking low over Pabu’s golden beaches. The way it fell reminded me of others I had failed to save in one way or another.

Crosshair. Tech. Omega.

“Doc, get up here! Hunter!” Wrecker’s voice was loud. I didn’t mind though. The way his footsteps made the sandy ground tremble could have rocked me to sleep. It would’ve been peaceful. Finally success in something I could control.

It was taken from me then, knocked violently from my hands. Some stranger’s voice cried out as Wrecker’s vice-like grip locked around my arm and wrist, desperately trying to keep that crimson from flowing smoothly into the dirt. It wasn’t fair. That strange voice crying out for him to stop couldn’t have been mine. The pleas for him to let me have some semblance of control couldn’t have come from my lips because that would mean I had failed once again.

“Dani, why?”

I didn’t know his voice could sound so broken.

The agony of my reality didn’t hit me until Doc’s medkit hit the ground with a thud ringing though my head like her voice barking out orders.

I’m sorry, Doc. I just couldn’t take it anymore. It hurt too much. Please understand.

“Cyar’ika, why?” The crack in her voice hurt worse than the screaming icy sharpness that coursed nearly unbearably up my arm as she did what she was meant to do.

I found it endearing how easily she’d picked up the Mando’a from her boys.

Her words may have been gentle but her hands were not. I hadn’t realized how deep that blade had gone until her fingers pinched together the pulsing artery beneath my skin, forcing such a gutteral cry from my chest at the white hot sharpness she inflicted so ruthlessly.

I tried to run - to jerk away and hide from the agony of Hunter’s willing hands which twisted and wound the tourniquet obediently under Doc’s command, but I found that Wrecker’s arms, though gentle, held me fast.

Her voice was gentle with an edge of disappointment now - all of it laced with a quiet heartbreak. I couldn’t help the tears that streamed down my cheeks, nor the whimper of pain that tumbled over lips that had begun to go numb.

“I’ve got you, Dani. Look at me.”

I couldn’t bring myself to look at her. I couldn’t bring myself to see how my actions had cut her just as deeply as the knife I’d used on myself.

“I need you to look at me.” Her fingers glided beneath my chin, caressing the same skin that she had kissed only hours before.

I wondered if she noticed how I watched her lips tremble as she brought my face up to look at hers. I wonder if the same shame that gripped me, now held her in its claws as well. I wanted to tell her that it wasn’t her fault. I wanted to tell her that I loved her and never meant to hurt her like this.

“I’m sorry...” The words that leaked breathlessly over my lips were all that came out. I didn’t know what else to say.

The determined look she’d set over eyes shielded the tears I knew lay beneath. They were the same tears she had shed so long ago when she told me about her past. It seemed so long ago now, almost in a different life. I’d fallen in love with her then, though I wasn’t sure I’d ever told her that.

Had I failed her too?

“I’m so sorry… I didn’t mean to…”

She made no sound to answer me.

I couldn’t stop the hissing moan as she folded my arm over my own chest and pulled me into her arms.

“I know, cyar’ika. I’m sorry.”

My head felt so heavy. With so much weighing me down, I couldn’t fight how my head rested against her shoulder.

“Doc… let me help. I got her.” Hunter’s voice sounded strained, like I’d added another thousand pounds onto his already heavy shoulders. I couldn’t help the tears that came again, burning hot with shame that choked me like a fist around my throat.

I wondered if she knew how I felt that spike of protective instinct shooting through her soul as she stood, cradling me against her chest, pulling me closer and ever so slightly away from the concern of the others. I wondered if she was aware of the regret that weighed so heavily on my chest. I hadn’t meant to hurt anyone.

Her feet moved quickly with practiced purpose down the stone steps and across the landing platform.

“How can we help, Doc?” Wrecker’s voice echoed through my ears and her reply sounded almost comical as it warped and blended in and out with everything else. All I wanted to do was stay here in her arms. She was warm and safe. Everything felt different with her.

I could’ve floated into a dream where everything was alright again. A dream in which the weight of our actions had no effect on the galaxy around us. It was just simply us. Doc and Danika. What a beautiful world that would be, and I wondered briefly if she ever felt the same.

The sudden cold hand of reality cruelly pulled me back once again beneath fluttering eyelids and that thin cot of the medbay I was suddenly placed upon.

“No, no, no. Danika, don’t you dare!” Her voice was sharp. Panicked fingers pulling desperately at the lids of my eyes, forcing me into a sudden, uncomfortable wakefulness. I couldn’t help the twinge of despair in realizing she’d once again pulled me back to her.

I would only fail her again, and even that thought flooded me with a tangible guilt I could feel in my mouth.

“Don’t do that again!” She nearly shouted in an angry relief. “I won’t lose you too!” Her voice quieted, “I can’t…”

I could only turn my head to regard her under lidded eyes that were aready threatening to close again. I found myself unable to keep from shivering as I watched her gather what she needed in frantic movements.

I nearly smiled. It took a certain kind of courage to efficiently do what needed to be done even when the life of someone you cared about was on the line.

“Here.” She layed a blanket over me. Her eyes were kind but oh, so tired. It was the kind of tired where even a thousand nights of sleep would not ever been enough.

Her hand felt cold as she brushed the hair from my neck with nimble fingers. She held the autoinjector in the other.

“Just a pinch,” she warned, smiling in a sad, but comforting expression as I met her eyes.

I barely noticed the slight burn of the sedative she’d given me as I felt it pull me into the grasp of unconciousness. A terror suddenly gripped me tighter than anything I’d ever felt before and I felt myself fight how that sedative pulled me down. I couldn’t let myself be taken away like this - not when she meant so much to me. I knew then, whatever it took, I had to fight to stay with her. She was my rock. I was hers. She would be my reason to keep living.

---

Gentle fingers weaving through my hair, woke me slowly.

The door to the medbay hissed open. “How is she, Doc?” Hunter’s voice held that same tired concern as it had before.

The fingers in my hair paused their movements. “I think she’s starting to wake up.”

“Do you think we should - “

“Yeah,” her curt reply cut him off. “She’ll stay here for awhile. Just so I can keep an eye on her.”

“Good. I’ll give you some privacy then.” The door hissed shut and she sank into the chair with a sigh.

“Hey…” I whispered. She stiffened, pulling her hand from my hair. She stood up suddenly, moving her hands as though she didn’t quite know what to say.

“Hey!?” She repeated incredulously. The sudden sharpness of her tone startled her as much as it did me. “That’s all you have to say to me!? Hey!?” The anger she’d tried so hard to convey, cracked at the last few words. She took a breath as if to calm herself. My chest felt heavy. I knew I’d hurt her, but I hadn’t realized just how much.

“I…” I began.

“Oh, no.” she interrupted me, a fire ablaze in her eyes. “You don’t get to talk just yet!”

I fell silent.

“H-how dare you do something like that! How dare you…” her voice cracked as she collapsed back into the chair beside me, placing her forehead on mine, pressing so hard I could taste the salt of her tears on my lips as they fell. Her hands gripped my face as though she was afraid if she let go, I’d slip away once again.

“Don’t you ever do that again!” The anger in her voice was gone now, replaced only by grief and sorrow.

“Am… am I allowed to speak again?” I asked timidly, hoping a small grin and some infantesimal amount of good humor would help lift that awful weight from her shoulders.

She chuckled with a broken sniff as she wiped her eyes on the back of her hand, “Yeah… I guess you can. Maker knows, I can’t stop you once you get started.”

It was my turn to chuckle.

“I… I’m so sorry,” My own words breaking over emotion I couldn’t hold back any longer. She wiped the tears with her thumbs as they flowed.

“I… Sometimes it’s just so easy to get all caught up in my own head,” I sobbed.

She moved, sitting on the cot beside me, lifting me so that my head rest against her chest. The beat of her heart was soothing. I could sit there forever and that sound would be all I needed to sustain my living.

“I know, she said, placing her lips on the top of my head. “That’s what I’m here for though, right?”

“Yeah,” I whispered, closing my eyes, leaning into her embrace as she wrapped herself around me.

“Promise?” She asked.

“I promise.”

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[asshlyyyy]

Music of Love (Austin Butler x Reader)

I am killing it with these requests. I am just pumping them out like its no tomorrow. That being said, there are still many request that I have to work on. This is an anonymous ask, so, whomever you are... I hope you enjoy. 

I couldn’t think of a song, mostly because I was brain dead and wasn’t thinking much creatively... so, you get to pick your own song! Ain’t that fun? Anyways, its only mentioned once, but you can think of this song throughout the whole fic. 

Apparently I was supposed to post this tomorrow but- I fucking suck so that is my fault- Tomorrow’s post will be moved to Friday- I hope everyone has a great Thanksgiving if you are celebrating!

Masterlist

Pairing: Austin Butler x Fem!Reader

Warnings: Implied smut (aka implied sex) towards the end, spelling and grammatical errors most likely. 

Word Count: 1.3k

You have never been gifted with the musical trial. You couldn’t really grasp the understanding of playing an instrument. Sheet music was one of the most confusing things you have ever looked at… You could only understand when there were lyrics on them, and at that point, you only knew how to read the words. 

How many musical notes were there? Because when they are all combined together onto a piece of sheet music. Well, they all either looked the same, or they didn’t look alike whatsoever. From an early age, you just knew there was no way you could learn an instrument. 

Well, that was until you met Austin. He was talented in many ways you weren’t. For example, he could play the piano and guitar. He could probably play some other instruments, but these were the ones you knew the most of.

When he got the role of Elvis you saw him change. It wasn’t necessarily a bad thing, but he put his heart and soul into this role. He knew how important it was to do good… and he did more than good. He did amazing. It was like he became Elvis himself. While the two of you will never know how the real Elvis was, due to your age, this movie gave people that.

You learned a thing or two while he constantly practiced. He played piano and guitar a bunch, even though he didn’t need to. He was already talented enough, he just wanted to pick up on how Elvis did those things. You can appreciate all the hard work he did. You just want him to take a break once in a while. 

However, when he was playing one of two instruments… you sat in with him. Sure, you didn’t really grasp what he was doing, but it was still nice. He tried to show you something once in a while, but you struggled the most with the piano. While you could learn simple nurse rhymes that used three keys… you couldn’t play a whole Elvis song as he could. 

When it came to the guitar, somehow it just made sense? You didn’t necessarily need to look at sheet music… you could just play it by ear. You weren’t exactly perfect like Austin was, but you picked it up. So, when he wasn’t home… you practiced.  You wanted to be able to surprise him one day. 

So, here you are currently. You sat on the couch in your shared home with Austin. You held his guitar in your arms. You were trying to perfect a song, but let's be honest… it was taking much longer than expected. It’s not like you thought it would be learned just like that… but you did want to finish it before he got home. 

You played this song repeatedly. In some parts, you had down… other parts you did not. Maybe you should have taken on a much easier song. Maybe like Black In Black. It had some hard moments, but towards the end, it was just a repeat. 

You let out a sigh and threw your head back. You put a pause on the song and rubbed your face. You didn’t know how you were going to finish this song today. Maybe you didn’t have to. You had plenty of other interviews and whatnot almost every day this week. You basically had till the end of the week. 

“What am I going to do?” You said softly and shook your head. You looked down at the clock and tossed your phone over to the side of the couch. You still had a few hours until Austin gets home. You could start dinner? Or, you can just keep pushing yourself. 

Let’s go with the second option. Because the sooner you finish this, the sooner it will be over, and you can surprise him. That sounded nice. You picked the guitar up and continue to play it… until you physically couldn’t anymore, or until Austin came home.

“Hey, sweetheart,” you jumped at the sound and turned quickly to spot Austin. What? What was he doing here? He wasn’t supposed to be home till much later. 

“Austin? What are you? Why are you home?” You asked confused as you pushed the guitar off to the side. 

“Because I’m done for the day, were you playing?” He asked as he walked around the couch so that he could join you. 

“What do you mean you’re done? It’s only two.” You told him. Austin looked at you confused and sat down beside you. He reached out and pushed a piece of story hair behind your ear. 

“It’s six,  Y/n.” Austin corrected you and caressed your cheek before he moved to fill your forehead. “Are you feeling sick?”

“No no, I must’ve just lost track of time. Last I checked… it was a bit passed two.” You told him. Austin nodded and pulled his hand away. 

“Have you eaten yet?” He asked as he reached for his phone. Most likely to go ahead and order something. 

“Not since lunchtime.” You told him. He hummed in response and nodded. He went ahead and typed away on his phone. You stood up and went to put the guitar away when Austin stopped you.

“Keep it here. I’ll help you,” Austin said as he looked up at you. You nodded and sat back down. You leaned into the couch and closed your eyes. “It’ll be here in forty to fifty minutes.”

“Thank you,” you said with a soft smile. Austin nodded and pressed a kiss to your cheek.

“Now, what were you trying to play?” He asked as he picked up the guitar. You were trying to determine if you wanted to tell him the truth, or just lie to him and still keep the surprise. Then again, you never lied to Austin, and you didn’t want to start now. 

“I was going to learn how to play [song of choice] to surprise you… I got a few parts but… couldn’t figure out the rest.” You admitted. Austin smiled and wrapped an arm around you bringing you closer.

“That’s so cute and so hot at the same time.” You let out a laugh and shook your head. You slapped Austin’s chest and looked away. “I’m being serious! Do you know how often I dream of you playing guitar?”

‘Do I want to know?” You jokingly asked. Austin shook his head and pulled you onto his lap.

He positioned the guitar on your lap and held your hands under his. “I know that song by heart. Let me so you.” He said softly as he guided your fingers along the strings. You hummed against his chest and rested against his chest.

Austin started to sing the song softly behind you. Guiding your hands to create the perfect tune. Sure, you could count this as a win, but Austin helped you with the song. You knew one day you would learn the song completely… but for now… this was a nice change of pace.

After he finished the song he pressed a kiss against your neck. You hummed once more and turned to look at him. You just wanted him, and you could tell that he wanted you as well.

“How long until the food comes?” You asked.

“Forty to Fifty minutes.”

“That’s more than enough time,” you whispered and grabbed his face. You kissed him and lightly pulled at the ends of his hair. He placed the guitar off to the side and placed his hands on your waist. 

You just knew that the rest of the night was about to be heaven… You had Austin… and soon you would have his… gotta keep some things to the imagination. You’ll have your diner and yet again, you’ll have Austin. No matter what, when you were with Austin… you were in heaven.

Want to join my taglist? // Let me know If I spelt any wrong! I have updated my form for my taglist. You will be tagged under everything now in that selected fandom/person. Just makes my life easier.

Taglist: @babyhoneypresley, @mirandastuckinthe80s, @mommy-maia, @yagirlalexx, @alligator-person, @diorxmimi, @anangelwhodidntfall, @pumkiinpasties, @djconde58, @21bruhs, @girlblogger2002, @dollfaceyourfear, @homebodybirkin2003, @dark-as-love, @pandora-journey, @hsstylesrings, @4everrmore, @bewitched-tales, @butlersluvbot, @curatedbyemily, @gyomei-tiddies, @wandawiccan60, @re3kin, @passengerjett, @neepo, @vane28282, @emilykolchivans, @gothantoinette, @gruffle1, @annamarie16, @misacc08, @marchingicenotes7, @callthedarknessdown, @domaniquessidehoe, @gay-af-satan, @skinnypantsmcgee, @sassyblazecloud,  @lordandmistress, @nuo0n, @coldonexx, @adoreyouusugar​, @aliciaelle47, @danitheedanimal, @raefoxiegirl, @cobra-kaii, @rylee-durhxm, @crabat-the-queen, @austinbutlersgirlfriend, @hopefulinlove, @aradevil, @laperceval, @xcallmetaniax, @londonalozzy, @mslizziesblog, @gloomynigvts, @randompointlessbeauty, @nora-nexus-34, @jazmin2211, @kittenlittle24, @moonbird1507, @bobthefishiesworld, @cevans-winchester, @luckyevansstan, @noorreads, @normatural, @hauntedarchivesx, @thatcrazyfangirl22, @amiets2, @myguiltypleasures21, @poppet05, @xcallmetaniax, @fullmetal-falcon, @kaitaesupremacy, @rainydayz101, @asd-n-adhd-fox, @eliseinmemphis, @adaydreamaway08, @stitchattacks @vintagegirl50s60s70s80s, @dkayfixates, @fa1ryprincess222, @austinstyles

[pepsiiwho]

Thank u for rb-ing the ask game. Here are 5000 asks: ♥️, 🎁 , 👓, 💕, 🍬, and 💌. These are just for you to keep: 💖💓💓♥️💞💕💘💞💘💗❤️💘💘♥️💖💓💖❤️💖💞💓💞💖💗

So many things here should I even answer this in one big thing....

This one is getting it's own post I have too much to say for it but the short answer is "[sound here] sounded like rocks hitting a wall" if you actually read my work you should know this one it's my calling card at this point.

It gets long after this sorry guys

2. This one isn't anything you'd like, a shame I just sent it to you but here's a little piece of the most recent WIP I have as of (checks watch) 3 hours ago. BG3 WIP Title pending.

The woman walks out with her tail between her legs, literally, and Alabaster watches the door close soundlessly behind her as if commanded. The silence between them sits for a moment a second or two before Alabaster speaks. “She's pretty. You might have a type though.”  “What are you doing here?” She didn’t think a sleep-ruffled Astarion would be the one she’d be interacting with when she decided to pay a visit today, but the sight is pleasing all the same. His hair is as white as it’s ever been, only a touch longer. She isn’t sure if actual vampires are capable of being surprised (something something the alertness of darkness or something) but the expression on Asraion’s face was what she would coin as ‘your lover coming home to see you with your mistress' . “You missed me?” He asks. It doesn’t come out like a question, as breathy as it sounds.  “I missed you” She responds. She rolls her shoulders, getting ready for the dance that is talking to Astarion. “I also need your help.”  “You came back because you need me?” There's a sharp smile slowly making it’s way onto his face, laughlines bending to build the expression. He’s sitting up, moving to reach her height. She nods, pulling at the tightly wound strings in his chest, plucking absently.  “I need you.” She responds. Talking to him feels like playing an instrument you haven't touched in a long time, slowly allowing muscle memory to take over so the music can once again be moved by your masterful hands. He smiles full now, as if realizing something she doesn’t know, and she’s reminded that you never really forget how to tune an instrument.

3. What helps me focus when I write... booty shaking music for throwing ass OR hating whatever is happening around me. no in-between.

4. This is a really hard question because if we mean like, emotionally? I could cop out and give a three way tie between Complimentary Soap (it isn't good I'm just nostalgic), Nintendo Direct (Circa June 2021) (it is good and I'm nostalgic) and Like A Brick In The Wall (good and new but god it's chaptered.) But, right now I'm gonna say my most recent fic I posted Going Home; All Over Again. I really love it even tho no one will ever read it (save you). The curse of rare pairs.

5. Okay another long one let's go. I'm only counting things with multiple pics posted...

HADES -

I Missed You Terribly And Like A Dream— You Appeared, Smiling At Me, Just So

Most of my stuff from here isn't good anymore, and while there's another that's more self indulgent and scratches the itch inside my body that aches dully for more Hypnos content at all times, this one reads the best rn. So it win.

HAIKYUU-

Tequilas, Margaritas and Seawater

everything in this fandom is old and arguably bad so nostalgia points carry weight here. This. one was a gift and idk why but it reads amazingly. holds up still

FE3H -

Like A Brick In The Wall

All fe fics are the DEVIL because of any in this list I CARE about these the most no competition. Anyway. This fic didn't win the previous bracket of my fav fic ever but it is my fav in the tag. Don't ask me to explain. I'm sorry.

CSM -

I Squint Out My Peripheral, Peaking Through My Fingers To See You

I don't work here man... I hate this goddamn pic its so good.

DRV3-

Nintendo Direct (Circa June 2021)

She's gonna do it every time... V3 hospital au I lOVE you.

(Listing out my written fandoms like this is the saddest thing ever my GOD I'm cringey)

6. I feel like the tropes I love most I never write myself... it's honestly kinda fandom specific but across the board...? Royalty au. not regency but kinda. A little to the left.

[fieri-sentio-et-excrucior]

I can't agree more with this post! Every piece of art here is simply gorgeous 🥰 These are Xiao Xingchen and Xue Yang, brought to life in front of our eyes in the exact way they are described in the fics!!

And while @deathbyoctopi has been the grateful commissioner of almost all of these, I am truly honoured to have been the giftee of two, to have been able to illustrate my humble fics with these beauties 😍 The artwork for the Prisoner of Jinlintai was the first one and I was honestly so overwhelmed with happiness upon seeing it that I had to try not to cry! I then practically bounced around the room in excitement 🤣 but no-one had ever done art for my fics before and this was simply perfect!!! ❤️

And then to receive not one, but two, and to be gifted the second in this gorgeous physical copy that I could hold in my very own hands...!!! 💗💞 Simply, a treasure.

@wrathyforest is a tremendous artist, and I loved my gifts so much, it was a no-brainer for me to take a leaf out of @deathbyoctopi's book and commission my own piece for one of my favourite xuexiao fics, Gentle Breeze... mentioned above. The whole commission process was super smooth and easy and @wrathyforest understood straightaway what I was looking for, and look at it, isn't it so fun and sexy?? 😍

Anyway, as @deathbyoctopi says, we should all appreciate our wonderful fandom artists so much, for sharing their gifts and bringing our visions to life and letting us find joy again and again with our beloved characters! I can barely draw a stick person, so am bowled away by these mega impressive talents!!

@wrathyforest THANK YOU SO MUCH! ❤️❤️❤️🥰🥰🥰😍😍😍

Xuexiao Art Shoutout ^-^

It will be soon 2 years since I asked for my first art commission ever, after months of wanting to do so, but being deathly scared by it.

What if I ask it wrong, what if I don't like it, what if I pay but then it is a scam, what if it's too expensive and I have to back away in shame, what IF these are all my fears and I didn't even know any reliable artists or had asked any mutuals for tips or recs.

What motivated me for the big step forward was me writing a gift fic for someone very dear to me, which featured a piece of art within the story itself. It seemed so fitting, to make art for it. I held my heart in courage and dared to ask an artist I had seen here, in tumblr.

This artist was @wrathyforest.

Now, I don't remember anymore why I choose them. Probably I saw some xuexiao fanart by them that I liked, or saw somewhere that they were available for commissions, but the thing is with trembling hands I wrote a long dm asking about whether they would accept to draw an art such and such. This turned out to be one of the best decisions I have ever made in this website.

For the last two years, I've had the privilege of receiving more artwork by them, all xuexiao (because my BELOVEDS!!!) and all of exceptional quality and deep understanding of the characters. This is why now I want to make a little shoutout to these works, and to the process that went into asking them, in part to show other people how engaging, fascinating and rewarding it is to commission artist.

This is (with ONE exception) my little xuexiao art collection. Have at it!

Family portrait

My first art commission ever. My heart goes with it! This is the aforementioned art for the fic To carry a bit of yesterday, written for @itellmyselfsecrets97 and which features the Yi City trio going to make a portrait of themselves.

This was also very special to me, since it was only my second xuexiao fic ever written, and the first that was a self-contained oneshot. It must have left an impact, it remains a well-loved fic to the point that a fic was written from it (The Tell-Tale Art by @fieri-sentio-et-excrucior).

I explained the artist what I needed from it, gave the full paragraph in the fic where they were described, and pointed out little details to adjust once the first draft was show to me (Forest, forgive me for being so picky with Xiao Xingchen's legs). I cried with the results.

My second commission came a few months later, with a pic for another work of art...

Defenseless

Now that I see you is an amazing fic by @10holmes with the incredibly exciting premise of a non-visually impaired Xiao Xingchen coming across Xue Yang, on the brink of death and... completely honest-to-god amnesiac.

I had followed this long project (still ongoing) for months, and had left some comments to the author, but at some point this sparse comments became a conversation, and the conversation a deep friendship... And there was a specific bit of their fic that remains one of my absolute favourite non-canon xuexiao moments.

Cue the art. In this occasion, I really wanted to make this as accurate and true to my feelings as possible, so not only did I send a detailed explanation and context (I would NOT expect the poor artist to read 30 chapters of a fic just for a commission!!), but also I made a little sketch. Me, who can't draw a smiley without botching it!

See if you can spot the difference:

You can imagine my shame and mortification to show this horrible doodle to any other human being, BUT the artist actually said this helped a lot to understand the positions, the intention, the expressions even, so it was a good call. I lost my fear of giving directions like that, and I have more-or-less tried to for all my other asks ^-^

The end result of this particular story is this and this:

My next commission was for something a bit more selfish.

Daozhang in a veil

I had in mind a story the premise of which was purely an excuse to put Xiao Xingchen in a dress, and what better than to have visual of that? The fic is called A Comedy of Yi City Errors, a light-hearted xuexiao adventure very fun to write and (I'm told) to read.

Once more, I made quite an explanation and provided a little sketch.

ANd once again, despite the terrible example, the concept that I wanted to send was received well enough and delivering again wonderful results. Look!!! <3 <3 <3

I love them so much.

Around the same time, I decided to make two gifts for what were then becoming my closest friends in this fandom (I think that must have been around some important festival or something) so I asked for these lovely pics next:

Prisoner Xiao Xingchen

Art for the fic The Prisoner of Jinlintai by @fieri-sentio-et-excrucior, which is a treasure I recommend for anyone who loves canon divergence and enemies-to-lovers done just right!

And this:

Mermaid Hunter Xue Yang

The beautiful mermaid AU Down in the Black Sea by @10holmes, which is cute beyond compare and inspired another fic I wrote in which I brought that pirate and merman couple to sneak into Versailles. Random anecdote is random.

Anyways, this last one didn't come with a sketch, but I MUST show you my rendition of Xue Yang by the cell door for the earlier fic >w< and the first sketch they did, which is unbelievably cute. See if you can tell which is which.

See? Completely undistinguishable! XD

As for the next, this is a cute little piece I commissioned to celebrate a beautiful friendship.

Under the rain

One of the first xuexiao fics I remember reading was The Taste of Rain on Skin, and once I had the opportunity to meet its author, I could not let something so special pass. Xue Yang and Xiao Xingchen look so lovely in this one, so lively and happy and free...

By the way! Notice from my sketch that the artist was the one who made me realize... uhm... Xue Yang should NOT be holding Xiao Xingchen with his left hand, right?? XD So the running direction was reversed >w<

Well, what I want to show you next is something truly exceptional

Pleasure Yang

Not long ago, i was unbelievably surprised with a gift by a group of co-conspiracists I will call... Lionforest. no... Wrathyfish. Hm. It was an amazing surprise, which made me incredibly happy. Art for one of my fics!!! And a very sexy one, at that!!!!! >w<

Just, just look a it!

Look at that cheeky Xue Yang! Xiao Xingchen's fascination with that sexy ruffian!! Song Lan's discombobulated face! This is no more, no less, what I had in mind when I wrote Gentle breeze, cold frost, sweet crimson drizzle, and I could not be happier for it if I tried.

Thank you, you two ❤️❤️

And now... the last pic was spicy. The next is Wei Wuxian-approved congee.

Ok next, the spicy goodies >w<

There is a certain piece of art I still am keeping in my pocket, which one day I hope to use for a spicy Xuexiao fic. At any rate, it is another masterpiece by Wrathyforest and it deserves to see the light of day, finally.

I swear, every time I look at them, they feel so alive. The details!!! The expressions! The obvious and wonderful love! The other things this picture has to offer, omfg the first time I saw it, it was PERFECT!!!

(before you ask, yes. This also has a sketch XD)

In conclusion

I hope you have enjoyed my little collection. Look at all the xuexiao art we have, and from one incredible talented artist. I am over the moon with every single one of these pieces!

Artists deserve so much love and admiration. Greet your local artist, comment on their content, even if it's just a random keysmash, I can tell you as a writer that seeing these kinds of notifications are soul-repairing.

And if you take the step forward and talk to them, (and you SHOULD!! don't be shy, it is really engaging to get in a conversation!), I can guarantee you that you will make a person's whole day.

This is me, showing appreciation for this lovely art. Share it, comment it, love it. The love and passion we all share in fandom is fragile, but it is also so, so precious.

[we-are-inevitable]

long distance javid that starts on tumblr: well-known fan creator edition

(thank you @roideny for listening to me rant!)

jack kelly is a fanartist who starts posting his digital works when he's about 13 and by the time he's 17, he's well known in the fandom he creates for. he gets requests, he does commissions, he uses it as a way to save for college- and also because it's fun and he likes drawing his silly little favorite characters doing their silly little tasks. he has a separate blog for non-fandom pieces (anything from OCs to scans of his traditional paintings, even the odd piece of vent art) and that gets a lot of traction, too. jack kelly rises to Ikimaru/Viria/Burdge level fame on tumblr and its all just this 17 year old Mexican kid with a silly little drawing tablet his foster mom got him as an adoption gift.

david jacobs is a fic writer, and a well-known one at that. he started when he was about 12 and unsupervised, writing really bad Percy Jackson fanfic on wattpad, like any young gay should. his fics started gaining traction and as they did so, his skill became better too; by the time he's 17, he's cracking out chapter fics and fleshing out huge complex AUs. a lot of people follow along for his NaNoWriMo content and original works as well, like his poetry or original fiction pieces, but a LOT of his followers come from his fanfics. his AO3 has at least 85 works and he's one of those people who has thousands of hits on his works bc he's just really good (even if he doesn't think he deserves it). you know how sometimes, you read a fic, and it kind of changes your outlook on life for a bit? davey's the fic writer who creates that. he wants to be in the editing/writing business and he's making it known.

anyway!

jack and dave meeting over tumblr bc theyre in the same fandom. becoming mutuals, constantly rbing each other's stuff, tagging each other in posts, the works. they REALLY start interacting by jack drawing scenes from davey's fics and davey writing little drabbles inspired by jack's fanart, and pretty soon they're kind of Known in the fanon circle- people see one of them, and immediately think of the other.

soon, they start talking about more than just fandom stuff and find out that they're the same age, they like the same stuff, theyve been in the same fandoms for A While and just never put two and two together. and though they live pretty far from each other, their friendship is like. Cemented. they exchange other socials and start video chatting, facetiming, discord voice calls, etc. and are so In Like with each other but also long distance is Scary and Not Ideal and they're both embarrassed to say they met their crush on tumblr anyway so they just ignore it

and this goes on for YEARS. they FINALLY meet up when they both go to a con- as fans, but eventually they'll be vendors (jack for his art and davey for his eventual book series)- and they click instantly. i imagine they do some pretty sick Percy Jackson cosplays, bc i love headcanoning that they both grew up with it, and they have so much fun together. they stay up so late talking about anything and everything, they fall asleep next to each other even though there's another bed in the room, and they both wake up red-faced and awkward bc Wow He Looks Pretty With The Sunrise In His Eyes.

(side note: i imagine they share a hotel room, but Medda and Esther share a room as well, and they become close friends throughout the weekend! these boys aren't completely unsupervised.)

they both part ways- Jack going to New York and Davey going back to Chicago- but their friendship is just that much more important. they talk every day, from junior year of high school to sophomore year of college, and when they FINALLY get together for real, it's at another con. they've both moved onto different fandoms but they're still SO close and just ,, jack, 20, having his first ever booth at a con, and asking davey to come for "moral support" but really he just wants to see him. davey helps him run his booth, helps restock and sell and run the "business" side of things. and when it's less busy, jack beta reads some of davey's new work, but the majority of the time they're just. talking. they stay in the same hotel room that night and it's one of those "i really want to hold him but i don't want to be weird" moments and it's so painfully obvious that they like each other but they're both Really scared of distance

and boom! they kiss in the hotel and the rest is history.

i think ,, davey transferring colleges to be closer to jack, and they move in together once he's For Sure going to school in the city. jack isn't going to school, he's an artist full-time, and his commissions and prints/stickers/mugs/merch/etc. rake in enough to pay the bills, plus with davey's added income from his part time job, they live modestly but comfortably.

once davey graduates, he starts sending his book- one he's been working on and editing and worldbuilding since before he even knew jack- out to editors, and then publishers, and eventually its hitting the shelves in every major bookstore in the country because it's such a hit.

and david gets to brag that his husband drew the cover art.

[t-lostinworlds]

Twenty-Five (Tom Holland)

a/n: well, i haven’t posted a fic in a while and i’m scared asdfghjkl. anyhow, this was a last minute idea, a.k.a was written fairly quick so bare with me for it may be shit lol. hope you guys enjoy! oh, and happy birthday to this handsome man in a turtleneck!

pairing: tom holland x female!reader trope/genre: none summary: Tom unwraps his last gift for his birthday, from��you. warnings: implied smut (18+), nothing detailed, will include a glimpse of dom!tom at the end. word count: 1.6k+ (short but sweet spicy)

masterlist in bio

-:-:-:-:-

It's been ten minutes since you arrived back home from Tom's birthday dinner, a simple yet eventful night with friends and family. It was a given that the birthday boy was probably tired from all the fun and rowdy activities, add that to the fact that he'd been entertaining his guests the whole evening. But, with one last gift, it was also a given that your night was far from over.

You were nervous, there was no denying that. This was the first time you'd ever bought something like this, much less, show it to someone else. Despite being together for almost two years now, you hadn't really dabbled much into showing Tom a much more alluring type of clothing. But since it was a special occasion, you found no harm in giving your man a little surprise, a gift, as you might say. So of course you were nervous since this was going to be the first time that Tom will see you in something so...lacy, dainty, and well, sexy.

After checking yourself countless times in the mirror to make sure everything was right—with a few pep talks thrown in as well—you tied up your short, red, silk robe before finally coming out of the bathroom.

You found Tom sitting on your shared bed, still sporting his outfit of the night which was his tight, black turtleneck, biceps practically begging to be free with the sleeves rolled up to his forearms. It was paired with his striped pants, one that was making his thighs look even more ravishing, inviting. He was looking handsome as always. His eyes were glued to his phone, fingers typing away, probably responding to more of his endless sea of greetings.

You silently made your way in front of the bed, fingers toying with the hem of your robe from the jitters. Taking in a few steady breaths, you tilted your head and said,

"Tom, go on and unwrap your last present for tonight."

"Huh? What present—oh," Tom cut himself off, eyebrows rising once his gaze landed on you. He hurriedly put his phone away, even doing as much as putting it inside his drawer, and you could only assume he turned Do Not Disturb on as well, the eagerness written all over his face. His smirk grew wide as he stood up from his place, walking over to you with his brown orbs gradually turning a shade darker. His hands found themselves on your waist once he was in close enough proximity, squeezing it tenderly. "Is my present under that robe?" he asked, voice falling down an octave.

"Maybe," you said with a shrugged, a feign innocent smile playing on your lips.

Tom shook his head. "I think I might need to sit down for this," he chuckled deeply, settling himself on the foot of the bed, spreading his legs wide so you could stand in between.

He kept his eyes locked with yours as he twirled the tie of your robe around his fingers, smirk only growing wider once he saw you swallow the lump in your throat. With how close you were, he could probably hear how your heart was beating so loud. Tom always found pride whenever he earned any reaction from you by doing absolutely nothing yet. It was very smug of him, but Tom being confident and in control will never fail to be so damn attractive, who were you to complain?

Agonizingly slow, he undid the ribbon, eyes never leaving yours even until the fabric had loosened around your body. Then, Tom reached up, fingers slipping underneath the silk, touch unhurried as he gently pushed it off your shoulders. The smooth material slipped down your body with ease and pooled at your feet, Tom still holding your gaze but only for a moment. With a deep breath, his orbs flickered down, features befalling with awe, his jaw dropping as he cursed,

"Fuck."

It was a simple, red, 3-piece, lingerie set. The garter and lace detailing covered so little but enough to still leave something for the imagination. It was hugging your body in all the right places, accentuating your shape in the most flattering of ways. The set was practically see-through yet the fabric was still cut out in certain areas to show even more skin. There was a ribbon right on top of each bra strap and then a matching one right in the middle of the hem of your panties.

"Absolutely stunning, you are," Tom marveled, almost like a gasp, hands wandering from your shoulders, down your arms, curling around your waist before proceeding down your thighs. His touch was laced with utter worship and praise. Add that to the way he was gazing you up, your nerves were quick to be replaced with confidence. You giggled softly, cheeks flushed as Tom did nothing else but caress your flawed skin amorously, making sure that there was nothing left untouched. His eyes were roaming just the same as if he was being extra sure that he wasn't missing a single detail, both on your perfect imperfections and the lace alike.

"You like it?" you asked.

Tom scoffed, shaking his head as he looked up at you with much adoration. "Like is a massive understatement." Squeezing your waist, Tom let you go as he leaned back on his arms, now all sprawled out with a wide smirk. "Step back a little, darling, I want to see all of you," he drawled. And you did, walking back a few steps so he could get the full scope. Tom shook his head with a low groan, "Fucking gorgeous."

"Now, give me a spin."

You laughed timidly but did so anyway, nothing but hums of satisfaction and appreciation coming out of your man as you did a full 360. Once you were facing him again, you found him with his head tilted far to the side, bottom lip caught between his teeth as his eyes stayed down to which you assumed was ogling at your backside. Your assumption was swiftly proven right when Tom threw in another request.

"Turn to the side a little, sweetheart," he asked, not at all trying to be discreet as to where his eyes were glued. With the confidence brewing in you, you posed for him sideways, chin on your shoulder as you flashed him a charming smile. Tom bit back a groan, admiring you from head to toe, shaking his head and blowing out his cheeks once he did so. After a few moments, he met your gaze again with nothing but a proud and satisfied look on his face. "Difficult decision," he pondered, a soft hum with his voice all deep.

"What?" you giggled.

"I can't decide if I should rip it off of you immediately," Tom paused, tilting his head at you with a knowing grin as he continued with a guttural tone, "Or fuck you while it's still on."

You bit your bottom lip to suppress a whimper, thighs instinctively pressing together which only earned a low chuckle from you man. Yet with your newfound confidence, you took a breath, a soft sigh as you ran your hands slowly, teasingly over the lace repeatedly. Tom's eyes followed your fingers, brown orbs coated with much hunger and lust.

"Well, don't rip it yet. It's new," you hummed, pouting at him sweetly before you shrugged. Toying with the garter of your panties, you added, "Then again, you are the birthday boy, you can have your way however you may please."

Tom's eyes snapped back up to meet yours. There was a flicker in his orbs, like a switch, and that was when you knew he caught on that your words meant more than just the lingerie.

"The latter then," he concluded, sitting up straight before his hands patted his lap, beckoning you closer. "Come here."

You walked over to him slowly, making sure to sway your hips sensually, which made Tom shake his head at you with a low groan. Once you stood right in between his legs, you lifted a hand to grab his shoulder for support, ready to straddle his lap. That until he caught your wrist midway into the air.

Tom shook his head no, tutting with a menacing smirk. He brought your wrist to his lips, giving it sweet, chaste kisses before he slowly guided you to where exactly he wanted you. You felt your insides churn when he simply said, "On your stomach, my love."

With a sharp breath, you did as told, situating yourself on your stomach, your body sprawled right across his thick thighs. You shivered once Tom ran his fingers down your spine before tracing the fabric that hugged your body so delicately that it may have seemed like he wasn't even touching it at all. He was silent, merely admiring, and dare you say it, enjoying his view. If the certain hardness that was poking your stomach wasn't a dead giveaway, then the way he was breathing heavily, would. Yet once he spoke again, you felt your whole body fire up, every inch of your skin tingling with utter fervor and excitement.

"How old am I again, darling?"

You gulped. It was rhetorical, but an unanswered question could only do more harm than good for you.

"Twenty-five."

Tom only hummed in response. There was no use for words anyway when you felt his warm palm smooth over the supple flesh of your ass that was exactly in his line of sight, exposed for his and his sight only. Yet in contrast, the cold metal of his Rolex on your skin emitted another shiver from you, a shaky breath escaping your lips soon after.

Tom chuckled proudly at your reaction, a few seconds of silence floating over you both before a sudden, sharp smack rang in the air.

Your body jolted in utter surprise. The stinging sensation immediately covered your cheek at the harsh impact, starting from where Tom's hand once was before the heat spread to your very core as you breathlessly moaned,

"One."

-:-:-:-:-

thank you for reading love! like, reblog if you enjoyed and lemme know your thoughts! x

[bubblyhoney]

Feel free to ignore this if it’s not specific enough or if you don’t know what to write for it but bestie I have been on a George kick for the last two or three weeks now and I think I’ve read every GNF fanfic there is to read 😭 I need awkward yet wholesome Gog content pls <3

first date

warnings: a singular kiss and some pretty awk flirting

words: 1634

tags: georgenotfound x gn!reader

A/N: anon... you read my mind. thank you sm for the request and musings.. i have also been on a bit of a gnf kick fucking Obviously bc ive posted two gnf fics this week—anyways. hope you enjoy and it's everything you've ever dreamed of ;]

requests/inbox status: open

-

“That one looks like my Aunt Theresa.” Your voice rings out through the stale air of the gallery. You’re pointing at an almost grotesque depiction of a woman with half of a mangled pool noodle balanced on her head. George purses his lips, keeping in what he knows will be an explosive laugh. Better to not disturb the gallery monitors with similarly sized pool noodles shoved up their asses, evidenced by their eagle-like judgmental gaze.

“No, that’s Sloth from the Goonies,” he adds, and plops down onto the cushions of a bench parallel to the exhibit. You just shake your head, huffing out a laugh, and fall down next to him.

“I think after this we should go get tamales. I don’t want to go home yet.” You shift the small paper bag from the gift shop in your hands, tugging at the tag’s string. A glance up at him yields a fleeting yet cute view of his blushing face.

“Uh—yeah. That sounds great.” One hand reaches up to nervously tug at his curly locks as the other drops down onto the bench. You imperceptibly shift and stare down at it.

He really does have pretty hands. Long, pale fingers give way to slender and clean fingernails. They shift, lightning fast, and you glance up to his face like you hadn’t just been ogling his hands.

You’ve been caught.

Turning away, you focus your wide eyes and pink cheeks on a particularly colorful exhibit. He’s silent. You can tell he’d like to say something. You waste three more minutes staring around at the art pieces before he says something.

“Uh, tamales?” His voice is gentle, almost reassuring. Nearly apologetic.

“Yeah!” You exclaim, shooting up from your seat like a jack rabbit. He blinks but follows. “It’s just down the street—three minute walk, tops.”

“Cool.”

The whole walk to the tamale shop is blissfully full of chatter and niceties. You compliment his shoes, he returns the gesture with a nudge to your shoulder and a witty comment when he sees two birds fighting for a breadstick. You laugh your perfect laugh and his chest puffs big like a gorilla, proud that he’d coaxed not one but two of those laughs out of you. (The other was from when he made a “that’s what she said” joke in the gift shop; that was a sympathy laugh, maybe, but he didn’t dismiss it.)

“You ever been here before?” You ask, polite and courteous as you hold open the door for him. He shakes his head and steps forward in the moderately-long line, head tilted back to listen to you. “I always get the spicy beef. Never fails.”

“Mmm,” he hums in agreement, and scans the menu. Pork with green sauce sounds delicious right about now— then again, chipotle chicken.

“We can share a pineapple raisin one,” you chirp, sidling up next to him. He nods and tries to ignore how his fingers tingle when they’re so close to yours. “I can order first to give you more time if you’d like,” you add just as the line surges forward and there’s only one customer between you and the cash register. He nods again. The customer before you leaves for their table and then you’re ordering your food, hands pressed to the counter and leaning over to speak to the register attendant.

He orders quick, desperate to get the meal after his stomach rumbles crassly, and steps to the side after paying.

“George!” comes from the drink station and he turns with his eyebrows raised. It’s you, filling a cup with cherry Coke. “Can we eat outside?”

“Sure,” he shrugs, lips tilted in a smile, and thanks the person handing him his food before following you through the entrance again with the characteristic jingle of the bell. You park yourself on a bench right next to a fountain and he sits down beside you, careful to not crowd you too much.

You scoot an inch closer anyways.

You two eat wordlessly for a few minutes, hums and grunts of approval filling the silence as you drain your cherry Coke and he his regular Coke.

“That was so good,” he moans, taking a final sip from his straw before setting it down next to him. You made a noise of agreement.

“Here.” You’re holding up a forkful of the pineapple raisin tamale to him, hand underneath to catch any crumbs. He glances at your face nervously twice before taking the bite and starting to chew. It’s incredibly sweet and soft on his tongue and his face practically melts. You giggle, swiping a thumb across his scruffy chin to catch a masa grain and lick it off the pad of your finger. His stomach jumps at the touch.

“I—uh,” he trails off, staring at your moistened lips. “Thanks.”

You gaze right back, eyes flitting to every feature on his face. It’s like you can’t decide on what to look at.

“Sure,” you say simply, and the moment passes as you look down at your feet. A smile tugs at your mouth and he can barely see it climb over your lips. His eyes drift to watching the sway of the “open” flag at the neighboring book store, a couple leaning over a group of books in the window catching his gaze. They smile at each other fondly, hands locked together.

The sunset casts a glow over his bowed head. The slight evening breeze lifts his dark locks up off his forehead, jostling them playfully. The color of his sweater makes him glow warm, buttery orange against black jeans and periwinkle sneakers.

He really is a work of art.

It’s then that he turns, catching your eye with pink glowing cheeks and twinkling eyes.

“What?” He asks, sheepish grin splitting his lips.

“Nothing.” You shrug, eyes squinted, hiding a secret that’s obvious. “Just—admiring.”

Getting to his feet in a sudden bout of confidence, he tosses his trash into the bin nearby and stretches out a hand for you to take. “Can I walk you home?”

You just look for a second, but stand and take it like it’s the easiest decision in the world.

“I’d like nothing more, Georgie,” you shoot back. The pet name feels right on your tongue.

He shakes his head at it but tugs you right along. It’s west to your flat, so you walk in the light of the setting sun for a while.

His hand in yours is cool yet comfortable, skin smooth like silk. You can just barely smell his cologne; it’s something musky and sweet. But you can’t lean in and take a deep sniff— he probably wouldn’t see you again after that.

“I had a really nice time tonight,” you offer, hoping he’ll agree. Couples and friends say their goodbyes at stairways and restaurant doorways ahead of you two. You watch them, head full and hopeful.

“Me too.” He’s still overcome with that initial confidence and gives your hand a soft squeeze. “I of course only came for the tamales, but—.” He jostles your shoulder with a smile. You roll your eyes and shove right back.

“Of course,” you continue, nodding. “Wouldn’t expect that you’d want any of my lively company. Course not. Never.”

“Never,” he agrees, but the tone of his voice gives him away.

The stoop of your flat approaches quickly. You eye it warily, not wanting to part so quickly, but sigh heavily when you stop right at the familiar jagged sidewalk and scuffed gold paint of the door trim.

“So.” You turn towards him, letting go of his hand.

“So,” he replies back, lips pressed together tightly.

“Will you go on a date with me again?” You ask, all sweet and curious, and he tries not to let his heart thump too loudly out of his chest.

“I— Yeah. Yes. Of course.”

“Glad we’re on the same page,” you say through your smile. “Oh!” You lift the forgotten paper bag up and brandish it. “I actually got this for you. I saw you eyeing it at the gift shop, so.”

He takes the bag from you, eyebrows furrowed, and peers into it. A small green ceramic frog with a pale blue butterfly on the tip of its nose stares right back.

“That’s—wow. Thank you so much.”

“Yup.”

A beat of silence passes and your shoulder turns, in what he thinks is goodbye, so he grabs your forearm.

“Hey—”

“Yeah?” You know exactly what he’s thinking. Your voice is hopeful.

“Can I—Can I kiss you?” His voice breaks slightly at the end, and he swallows the nervousness.

“Yes,” you breathe and your head tilts up subconsciously. He scans your face, hand sliding down from your elbow to grasp your wrist.

God. You’re so cute.

And so he leans forward, cups your cheek with one hand, and presses a firm yet gentle kiss to your lips. You’re sweet, gentle, and you smell like lavender soap and flowers. You breathe him in, lips moving against his, and feel like you’re floating.

When you two break apart, he hovers just slightly apart from your face. His hand has slipped from its place on your cheek to your jaw, thumb pressed to the bone and rubbing slowly.

You observe the details of his face. How his nose slopes just slightly to the left, how he’s got a freckle on his eyelid, how the scruff on his jaw melts into the dark of his hair; has he always been this handsome?

He steps away, swallowing, and drops his hands to his pockets.

“Okay.”

“Alright,” you exhale, trying to not scream or cry or throw up in the same breath. “See you—…when I see you.” He nods quickly, cheekbones blushed red. “Hopefully soon.”

“Yeah. Soon.”

He calls you the next day.

Definitely more than soon.

-

A/N: ask or send me some stuff!! requests, rants, anything. :D let me know what you think in the comments!

[mel-the-fangirl]

Toss A Coin to Your Witcher

Henry Cavill x Reader

Words: 2,362

I am so so so nervous to post this because this is my first time writing a Henry fic and I know that the Henry Cavill fandom is such a tightknit family, I hope you guys have room for one more hopeless Henry stan. I know this isn’t even half as good as the other Henry fics out there but I had this idea stuck in my head for a very long time.

Please like and reblog or leave me some replies if I should do a second part! Thank you!

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The makeup brush swept precisely along your cheekbone, covering it in a subtle shimmer. Production staff milled around behind you, testing sound, testing lights. Being an actor, these things were nothing new. 

"Now remember, say it with me," 

"Don't say or do anything stupid." you recited with your long time agent and friend, Marge.

You thanked the makeup artist and made your way to the set. 

"When have I ever said or done anything stupid though?" you asked

Marge looked at you appraisingly before replying, 

"There's always a time for everything. Now go on." 

The vibe on set dialled to a hundred when you stepped on. It was really flattering how they cheered as you plonked your butt down on the wooden chair, a red tarp was set up behind you and the studio lights surrounded the area.

"Ready when you are Y/N!" the producer aka the ring leader of this whole operation flashed you a thumbs up

You nodded, feeling the nervousness bubble up your throat. 

Surprise, surprise. You still got nervous in front of the camera. It wasn't hard to handle though, you took a couple of deep breaths and you were good to go. 

"Hey guys, gals, and non-binary pals! I'm Y/N Y/L/N. I'm here with Buzzfeed and we're gonna be playing Twenty Questions." you winked at the camera with your arms wrapped around the little jar that had your questions in it

 "Let's get started, shall we?" 

Eager to begin, you stuck your hand into the jar without a second thought. 

"I freaking love Buzzfeed, really. Especially Tasty, I mean, I don't cook. But," you shrugged, wiggling your fingers, hearing the tiny bits of folded paper move around in the jar. "I love watching people cook. Then I love eating."

Scattered chuckles broke out through the crew. 

After a few minutes of rustling around, you figured you’d just come clean, "Okay. Small problem." 

You lifted your hand, the jar coming along with it. The pieces of folded paper crowding around your encased wrist as you waved your arm. 

Another round of shocked giggles started up as a couple of assistants rushed to you and tried to yank the jar off. 

"This is too good," the producer chortled, "Mind if we keep this in?"

"Fine by me!" you watched intently as Marge rolled up your sleeve so one assistant could pour oil all over it. Eagle eyed, she watched as a drop of oil landed on the bottom hem of your sweater.

"Great job, Y/N. This sweater was a gift from that designer you met last week, he said he made it just for you." she scolded, taking charge by grabbing the jar with two hands

"It was an accident, Marge. It's not like I planned on getting my hand stuck in a jar today!"

With a tug and a pop, your hand was free and slick with olive oil. Marge landed on her butt on the floor.

"Marge!" you howled with laughter, helping her up

She straightened her blouse, all business but her cheeks were stained red with embarrassment. 

"Can someone help Y/N wash the oil off her hands? Let's get this show on the road, people!" she barked marching orders at the staff, clapping her hands as she went. She wasn't in charge here but no one dared to question her. 

You chuckled, knowing that this was a cute little anecdote you’d be sharing with anyone who was willing to listen.

A few minutes later, you were back in your chair, having a laugh with everyone. The jar incident already stripped away the majority of your anxiety so you were ready to go.

"Okay! First question!" you squinted at the strip of paper, "What is the most expensive thing you’ve stolen from any set you’ve been on?" 

“Well!” you widened your eyes at the camera, “Bold of you all to assume that I’ve ever stolen anything!”

Marge scoffed rather audibly, making everyone raise their eyebrows at you.

“Okay, fine!” you held up your hand. The stunning ring you had on sparkled underneath the lights, nearly blinding anyone who looked.

“I did a period movie a while back and they had these drop dead gorgeous, and I mean gorgeous pieces of jewelry. I wore this piece,” you gazed down at the ring fondly, “for the whole of the film and I just pinched it after we wrapped, I couldn’t part with it, okay? I’m like a fricking magpie, I love shiny things.”

The crew burst into fits of laughter, making you laugh along with them.

“To clarify! This is the replica the props department had made, a very expensive replica. I can see you freaking out, Marge. And no, you don’t have to call the insurance company.”

You were a big hit, to say the least. You had them in stitches every time you opened your mouth but all good things had to come to an end, right?

It didn’t matter how carefully you dipped your hand into the question jar, this next one was going to make things very messy for you. 

"What do you like to do in your free time?" you read out loud, tapping a finger against your chin

"There hasn't been much free time lately,” you chuckled, “Let’s see… I play video games, yeah. I am so obsessed with the Witcher, it's borderline unhealthy. I’ve read all the books and played the games so many times." 

"What do you think of Henry Cavill as Geralt?" the producer asked you

Henry Cavill.

Just hearing that man's name was enough to make the blood rush to your cheeks. You brushed an imaginary hair out of your face. From behind the camera, Marge raised a knowing brow.

"Well," you cleared your throat and sat up straighter

"To be honest, at first I was really skeptical about his casting. I mean, he is way too good looking. Like way. Way. Too good looking. But…"

"But?"

Your mind drifted to the first time you saw a picture of Henry Cavill in full costume. The white hair, the golden cat eyes, the intense gaze and all that leather? It definitely made you feel… Certain things.

You cleared your throat, propping yourself on the table with your arms. To be honest, your head was still in a Henry Cavill haze so you had zero control of what came out of your mouth next.

"I'd definitely toss all my coins to that Witcher. Toss a few other things as well."

Everyone in the room ooh'ed and whistled, delighted by your saucy reply. The ruckus snapped you out of it and your hand immediately flew to your mouth.

“Please tell me I didn’t just say that out loud.”

“You did.” Marge mouthed at you, trying but failing to contain her laughter

"So you enjoyed his performance as Geralt?" the producer pressed on, hoping to get more audience-raking answers

How many times were you going to blush during this interview?

"Oh, well, about that, I haven't really gotten around to actually watching it.” you admitted sheepishly, “But I've seen photos and some clips. Very impressed by what I've seen so far."

"You will watch it though, right?" 

"Oh, absolutely. No way I’d miss out on that! Henry Cavill is an incredibly wonderful, talented actor. I think he’s also a fan of the franchise so I have no doubt that he played Geralt to perfection as with all his other roles." you nodded solemnly, putting a hand to your heart

Everyone in the room with you caught on that you were gushing over the actor, the sly looks they all exchanged with one another were a dead giveaway. Too bad you didn’t notice before you could try and play it cool.

“Alright! I think it’s time for the next question!” you declared, swiftly plucking another question out of the jar

By the time it was all over, you had convinced yourself that your little crush-related blunder wasn’t even a big deal, it would probably just be a little footnote in that video. No biggie.

But, Jesus Christ were you wrong.

The video took a couple of weeks to edit and in that time, you were busier than ever. A movie you had just done was getting a lot of attention, your performance in particular had critics singing your praises. At that point, you were definitely getting noticed a lot more when you stepped out for coffee.

So, the timing was just perfect.

The second the video went live, your phone was going off non stop. Twitter mentions, Instagram tags, and articles. A few notable entries being:

“WATCH: RISING STAR Y/N Y/L/N GUSHES ABOUT HENRY CAVILL IN CHARMING BUZZFEED VIDEO”

“@geraskier-rights: Y/N Y/L/N REALLY SAID SHE’D TOSS ALL HER COINS TO HENRY CAVILL’S GERALT AND WE ALL KNOW WHAT THAT MEANS”

“@geralt-of-vengerberg: Y/N The Fond™ is showing👀👀👀”

Marge sat on your sofa with your phone in hand, absolutely thrilled while reading tweets out loud. You scheduled a panic session with her over lunch once everything blew up.

“Oh my God.” you groaned, massaging your temples. “Marge, what do I do?”

“About what?” she didn’t even bother to look up at you

You plopped yourself down next to her, laying your head in her lap, “All that. It’s everywhere.”

“And? There’s nothing wrong with it, they all think you’re charming and funny. A true Relatable Queen.”

Was it your sanity slipping through your fingers? Or the overpowering embarrassment? You had no idea but whatever it was, it had you laughing until your stomach hurt.

Marge tugged at your hair, “Get it together, bitch. Jeez.”

“What are you so worried about anyway?” she asked, placing your phone on your stomach

You swiped through your emails absentmindedly, “I’m not worried about anything, it’s just that what if…”

You left the words hanging in the air, you might as well have been dangling from a cliff from how much colour drained from your face.

“What if what?” 

Marge shoveled some pasta into her mouth before noticing that you essentially turned into a statue right next to her.

“Y/N!” she shook your arm with a grip you were sure would leave some bruises. “What’s the matter?”

Wordlessly, you passed your phone to her, the comment from a certain verified account displayed prominently on Buzzfeed’s Instagram post of a little snippet from your video, the “I’d toss all my coins to that Witcher” part, naturally.

“@henrycavill: Dear Y/N, how many coins are we talking about here? Let’s talk about my reward.”

It was all Marge could do to not throw your phone across the room. Her eyes went wide, following your every move as you paced back and forth, a thumbnail in your mouth.

“That did not just happen, I did not just see that right now. I didn’t.” you babbled, your heart beating thunderously in your chest

There it went. Your very own ticking time bomb finally went off. Number of casualties? Just one. You.

“Okay. Just calm down, Y/N.” Marge caught you mid-pace, squeezing your arms

“Maybe it was a fan account. Tell me it was a fan account, Marge. Henry Cavill did not just hear me imply what I implied.” you grasped at her hand with your clammy one

“Well if he has a fan account that’s verified and has fourteen point five million followers?”

“Oh god.” you groaned, sinking to the floor and hugging your knees

“Oh, Christ.”

Marge hauled you to your feet and thrust your phone in your hand. She looked you hard in the eye, “Stop your whining and answer him. You’re Y/N fucking Y/L/N, one of the hottest people on the planet, start acting like it.”

You stared at her, eyes wide. Your chest rose and fell rapidly. Marge’s words started to make sense in your mind and adrenaline started surging through your veins. You nodded fervently, psyching yourself up.

“Fuck yeah.” you breathed, clicking ‘Reply’

“@yourinstagram: @henrycavill I know you take orens, crowns, and florens but maybe we should discuss further?”

Before you could even stop yourself (did you even want to?), your fingers already landed on the blue paper plane.

“I did it.” you exhaled, staring as the likes and overly enthusiastic replies started pouring in

“Fuck yeah, you did. Now, come on. Leave your phone. We’re getting drunk.”

More weeks passed and you actually ended up forgetting about that little reply you left Henry Cavill. You were busier than ever. Guestings, endorsement deals, and awards shows left and right. So, when you finally had a couple of days free, you decided you would set up camp on your sofa and finally watch Henry Cavill as Geralt of Rivia.

You even threw on your Superman pyjamas, “What the hell.” you shrugged

If you were going down this road, you might as well do it right. Maybe you would even watch the Man from U.N.C.L.E after or would it be Night Hunter? The decision would have to wait.

You watched, absolutely riveted as the White Wolf battled against the kikimora, his silver sword hacked at the creature with unmatched expertise. You were only a few minutes in but you already knew you’d be stuck on that sofa for hours.

When the kikimora had Geralt pinned underwater with his trusty sword just beyond arm’s reach, you found yourself on the edge of your seat, one of your cushions in a chokehold.

“Come on, come on, come on.” you muttered as Geralt reached for his sword

You wouldn’t find out if he got it or not. A knock on your door literally made you fall off the sofa.

“Fuck!” you exclaimed, your hip was already smarting from the impact

Whoever that asshole was, you swore you were going to give him a piece of your mind. You stomped to your front door just as that idiot started knocking again.

You huffed and threw the door open then your mind immediately went blank.

“I am so sorry. Are you alright? I think I heard you fall?”

Oh yeah. You were definitely falling.

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You can find the second part here!

[twiceasfrustrating]

Absolutely Nothing

I said I wouldn't post my new fic until after SWBQ is done, but I want to begin posting it before S4 drops. It won't update consistently atm, but it's there... I will only be posting the first two chapters to Tumblr. Everything else is going on AO3 because Tumblr is not longfic friendly.

Rating: Teen and Up

Archive Warning: Graphic Depictions Of Violence

Category: Gen

Fandom: Shall We Date?: Obey Me!

Characters: Main Character, Lucifer, Mammon, Leviathan, Satan, Asmodeus, Beelzebub, Belphegor, Diavolo, Barbatos, Simeon, Luke, Solomon, Michael, Raphael, Uriel, Original Angel Character(s)

Additional Tags: Other Additional Tags to Be Added, War, Trauma, Abuse, Emotional/Psychological Abuse, Implied/Referenced Character Death, Canon is like a vampire, it can't enter this house unless I let it, Emotional Baggage, Lies, Manipulation, Ships not intended but I'm not stopping you

Summary: War is not unknown to the three realms, but that does not make them any less a tragedy of strategy. Though relations between the three have never been favorable, they have never truly gone to battle with each other. At least, not until now. The heavens have been planning for a long time and have finally decided to execute their machinations. Now it is time to see how every piece will play out this bloody battle.

A/N: These tags are for the overarching fic, not the first two chapters. Only Lucifer, Simeon, Micheal, and Gabriel show up in the first two chapters.

Chapter 1: I Will Not Go With You

“We’re heading for a war,” Lucifer warned, “and I want you to come with me.”

Simeon solemnly blinked a few times before closing his eyes. The weight of the choices laid before him pricked at the edges of his mind. He’d known this was coming. He’d known for a long time that this question would eventually be asked of him and for just as long he’d known what his answer would be, “I must decline.”

“Why?” Lucifer spat out, “Simeon, you have to know what’s about to happen. If we don’t fight then Lilith-”

“I am not stopping you from this rebellion.” He opened his eyes and looked to the pages stacked neatly in the corner of his desk, carefully flipping through the avalanche of writings he’d collected over the years. Somewhere, buried deep in the pile, he vaguely recalled his moment; where his brother would ask him to do the impossible. He’d hidden it away from prying eyes, afraid that others would find it and interpret it as he had. Though, even if they had read it and understood what the contents were, it was nigh impossible to change the events that were foretold.

He pulled the page from the pile, taking care so the others above it would not collapse onto the delicately inlaid wood of his desk, and perused the contents held within. The paper was so old that it had begun to grow fragile to the touch and discolor at the edges. Simeon desperately wished that time had chosen not to show its touch on this particular relic he would rather have forgotten about. It was frightening how long he’d known about this day and he would rather pretend he was shocked when Lucifer had come to him. Sometimes, having a glimpse into what would eventually be was a cruel reality.

That brother, who would come in need of his fellow, will find no quarter. So shall he return with hands left empty, but convictions emboldened by the forge of his stature. He shall take with him those who share his resolve and lead them to where metal sings and cries. Blood shall be shed but on one side, though the cost of the blood spilled shall

It was an old, short paragraph he wished he could forget. Though he could never truly put it out of his mind, because he knew it was left unfinished and his mind and pen longed to see the end of the story. However, his heart and will would prefer not to know every detail of this particular future. For so long, he’d clung to that final shall and hoped that not knowing the entirety of the story would somehow keep it from unfolding. However, his pen only put the stories to page. He was not responsible for the events that inspired him to write.

“You will have to make do with those who are already on your side. No one else will turn their back on Father for your cause.” It was the only warning he could give. In those words he hid the message that Lucifer should tell no one else. If war was approaching, then it was better he have the element of surprise.

Lucifer could only stare at him in disbelief, “Is that your answer?”

“It always was.” He placed the paper face down atop the pile, “I cannot aid you in this, Lucifer.”

“Then you would fight against me? You would condemn Lilith in the same way as our Father?” His voice shook, the rage building inside of him clearly beginning to boil over even as he tried to contain it.

“I will not betray my family.” Simeon’s face remained unchanged as he pushed his chair away from the desk and rose to his feet. Despite the malicious aura that began to circle around his fellow Seraphim, he approached with an unguarded stance until they were only an arm’s reach away from one another. No matter how upset Lucifer may become, Simeon would not fear him. Though, he did fear *for* him, “You and she are still of my kind and that means I will not meet you on the battlefield.”

Lucifer’s eyes widened at the declaration. This time, it was his turn to fear for the other, “You can’t stay out of this. You know they won’t allow you.” If he did try to remain on the sidelines, Simeon would still be seen as a traitor. Not in the same vein as him and his siblings, but a traitor nonetheless, “I won’t ask you to fight if you really refuse to lift your blade, but you can’t stay here.”

“As much as you and Lilith are my family, so are Micheal, Raphael, Uriel, and Gabriel. I cannot leave them.”

“Simeon…”

Simeon’s lips pulled back into a smile and he let out the shortest of laughs, “You worry far too much, Lucy. You are aware that I am still a Seraphim, are you not? Even if I do not step onto the battlefield, I do not believe I am in nearly as much danger as you are putting yourself in.” He wanted to reach out and touch his brother one last time as the fear of the unknown overtook him, but he kept his hand within his own space. He did not know what would happen at the end of all of this, but he knew it would not be the same and reaching out to hold onto what they had would only pain them both.

Lucifer looked over the other angel’s shoulder, toward the pile of papers where Simeon had placed one face down. Countless writings that revealed the future to their author and Lucifer did not envy that gift. Others often wished to know what would be, but he had seen far too many times the burden placed on Simeon for having such a skill; the amount of times he had been made to see both grace and tragedy was carved on his face, just behind that smile. That is why, despite knowing that whatever was on that page was related to this very discussion and his ultimate goal, he would not pry. It was not as if knowing the future allowed it to be changed anyway.

“We’ll still be on opposing sides, you know?” No matter how much Simeon proclaimed not to betray his family, that was an unavoidable truth.

He nodded, “I am aware.”

“And you refuse to go against your family?”

This time his confirmation was wordless.

Lucifer took in a deep breath, “Then once the battle begins, I believe we can hardly be considered family anymore.”

Large blue eyes shot up to look at his pale face. It seemed that Lucifer had said something Simeon hadn’t expected, “What?”

“You will not betray your family, but you know they will not allow you to remain neutral in this. As soon as the drums of war beat, it is fine to stop thinking of me as your brother.”

There was a long moment of silence before Simeon could reply, “You cannot ask me that.”

“I am not asking. I am stating a truth,” one that would hopefully allow Simeon a way to follow his morals and gain some leniency if he continued to insist on this path, “I refuse to be your brother from that moment on.”

“Please... you cannot ask that of me.”

“I am not asking anything of you. I am simply stating where we will stand.” And now he needed to leave before the hurt welling in Simeon’s eyes tugged at his heart anymore and shattered his resolve.

He dipped his head in a polite bow, “Thank you for your time, Simeon. I do hope we may speak like this again.” He turned on his heels, refusing to truly look at the other angel again. His only goal was the door, where he opened it wide and stepped through the threshold.

“Lucifer! Wait!”

It took far more will than Lucifer would ever care to admit as he shut the door behind him without saying another word, and even more to walk away.

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

Chapter 2: Traitor

“How long have you known?” Micheal nearly growled as he stared down Simeon where he kneeled. His pale blue eyes ran wild with rage and it was clear he was just barely holding himself together. That was to be expected after everything he had just been through. Lucifer was unapologetically his favorite brother so it was unimaginable the distress he was in right now as he came to terms with having lost a member of his family. They had been like two halves of a whole, and now they were fractured.

“How long have I known what?” Simeon asked, feigning ignorance.

“That Lucifer would lead a rebellion against Father!” Micheal’s voice raised so loud that the room literally shook around him.

“Calm yourself, Micheal,” a melodious voice shushed him and lithe hands rested on his shoulders to hold him steady, “We’ve lost enough of our siblings today. There is no reason to lose yourself and risk losing another.”

“You would call him our brother after that disgraceful scene, Gabriel?” The disgust in his voice was clear and overwhelming, “He knew this would happen and refused to warn us or lift a finger. Everything we lost today is because of him.” Simeon had to know about today. He was blessed with the gift of prophecy and spent his time writing what was to come. If he had simply shared whatever he knew about today, Micheal knows they could have prevented the rebellion. He knows that he could have convinced Lucifer to stay somehow. Instead, he was left to face his own brother on the battlefield. He could still recall the cold eyes Lucifer had looked at him with as if they barely knew one another. That sight would never leave the darkest parts of his mind.

“You are blinded by your pain, Micheal.” She removed her hand from his shoulders and moved to stand over Simeon, “He is clearly as much our brother as ever. If he were against us he would have joined Lucifer, but Father has deemed that he is still worthy of his halo. Is that not enough for you?”

Micheal chuckled darkly before answering, “Uriel nearly lost an arm and he’s one of the lucky ones.” Even with so few numbers on their side, the rebellion had a gifted Dominion that made the most of their small force.

“And everyone harmed will heal, but we gain nothing in dividing ourselves further, and our brother has already been punished for his transgressions.” She took a knee before Simeon, reaching out her hand and running her fingers through his silken hair, “Will you not put our brother’s worries at ease, Simeon?”

Simeon knew the threat in those words. As kind as Gabriel pretended to be, she was someone he feared far more than Micheal. Not because she was stronger, but because she knew exactly how to most hurt those who upset her. As such, he had no interest in declining her wish, even if what she was asking for was for him to show his shame.

He took a deep breath before unfurling his wings behind him. They shimmered golden in the neverending light of the Celestial Realm, a blessing bestowed upon him by their Father that reflected his very essence. Every angel had such a blessing; different colors, shapes, a range of sizes, and lays of their feathers all differed from angel to angel all dependent on their Father’s grace. That included how high in their Father’s favor they were, and it was obvious at a glance just how out of favor Simeon had fallen. His six beautiful wings, the blessing afforded to all Seraphim, had been reduced to a simple two.

Gabriel’s eyes filled with pity for him but Micheal’s face twisted in glee and disdain, “Is that all? You betray us and all Father does is reduce your rank.” The laugh that left his throat was so dry that it sounded like it hurt, “You must really be beloved to get off with such a light sentence.” If it was up to Micheal himself, Simeon would face the same punishment as Lilith.

“Still your anger, Micheal. As you can see, Father has spoken.” She raised to her feet once more, her nails pulling painfully at Simeon’s hair as she stepped away from him, “Simeon is still of our kind and as one of our subordinates it is our duty to shepherd him.”

A wicked smile crossed Micheal’s face as he continued to look down on Simeon and his now unsightly form that marked his betrayal, “You may be correct, Gabriel. It is only right that we guide lost sheep, especially those of our own flock.”

[maemi324]

Mafia

Hey there friends! It’s been a hot minute since I’ve actually posted something. 

Let me just say, Happy Holidays! I hope you are having a wonderful and safe holiday. 

This fic was inspired and written for @butterscotchbaku​ and @in-this-house-we-stan-izuku​ based on some requests I had written in, as well as just ideas passed back and forth. 

I hope you two are having a wonderful day and may that continue into the new year! Thank you for all you’ve written and done!

Pairing: Izuku/Fem.Reader

Warnings: mentioned beatings, mentioned assault but nothing described in detail. all very vague. uhh violence, or hinted at violence. Edited only by me, so i may have missed something.

 I think that’s it. 

I hope you two enjoy this! 

Cigarette smoke hung heavily in the room, walls filled with generic knickknacks and warm colored walls gave the meeting a false sense of pleasantness. To any unsuspecting person, this was any other meeting room, one long table with rounded edges and somewhat padded chairs, the head of the table having the one most plush. 

Hell, even the people occupying them would have anyone turning up their nose in disinterest. Nothing but business men and women in dark, smart looking suits.

But you knew better. Sitting at the head was the infamous Izuku Midoriya, known under the name of Deku, direct descendent of the greatest Mafia leader Japan had ever seen; All Might. 

And here you sat, comfortably in Izuku’s lap, your temple pressed against his neck as you listened to his voice rumble on towards the other members. You were hardly paying attention to what was being said as you glanced around the room to the others.

Katsuki Bakugou- Dynamite, or TNT if you were feeling particularly cheeky. He was head of interrogation, finding out who knew what and definitely had too many ways of making people talk, and only one sure fire way of keeping them quiet. 

Todoroki Shouto- Bakugou’s counter in interrogation. He was mainly there to keep Bakugou from killing every target. He could control his temper, sure, but Todoroki added a sense of cold unease to their targets. He was effective against the folks who didn’t rise to Bakugou’s jabs and threats. He tapped the ashes of his cigarette into the small dish provided.

Kirishima Eijirou- Red Riot-another strong man and a third in the interrogation squad. He kept Bakugou from grousing the entire time, as well as leveling the two tempers in the group. Though he was a strong man, he was also incredibly sweet. You recalled that, while dealing with some unsavory characters that had children- typically rescuing the children at the other parents pleading- Red Riot was a favorite with them, his bright smile and charm keeping them distracted as Bakugou and Todoroki dealt with the problem.

Iida- Ingenium-was the getaway driver, best out of the best. He somehow always managed to get them out as quickly as possible while still following the law. It made losing the police all the easier. Ochaco Uraraka, or Uravity, was the treasurer, in charge of keeping account of all of the mafia’s funds, who owed them money and why. For more problematic clients, she was a stickler down to the very last penny. 

There were others, but those were just the ones in the room at the moment. You sighed softly, adjusting in Izuku’s lap. Someone at the end of the table was pleading for something. You could tell by the unimpressed glare on Izuku’s face that it was going south for whoever this was- a blond man with an inferiority complex for certain.

You glanced down at your left hand, engagement ring shimmering brightly despite the warm fluorescent lights. It wasn’t very large, an emerald surrounded by diamonds. He’d only given it to you a few days ago. On a rare day, you were able to go out with him in public-the benefit of a mask and some contacts while on the job- you had decided to flit about a few museums. The ring caught your eye immediately, the prized possession of some rich so and so, dating back who knows how long in their family.

Maybe it was because of how brightly it matched your lovers eyes, but the ring called to you. You didn’t mention a peep to your lover however. You knew he would have taken it right then and there. You rather liked coming to this museum, with added security after a robbery, you would have to frequent it less.

Your lovestruck fool of a man decided to do it anyway. He’d said that the plan went off without a hitch, though the smudges of dirt and a bit of blood- not his own- said otherwise. At the time, you had to question why, sure he’d robbed plenty of other places, gifts for trips that took longer than expected, but a place that you favored going?

“I’m just crazy about you doll, You deserve the best of the best. The way you eyed that ring, I knew there’d be nothing else that would be more perfect for you. But, it’s not just because you fancied it that I got it for you. We’re together, we always will be...but I want to make it more official. I wanna be yours forever, and I want you to be mine. What do you say doll? Marry me?”

You couldn’t say yes fast enough.

A gentle nudge to your shoulder brought you out of your daze. You looked up to the love of your life.

“What do you think dollface? What should we do with Monama?” 

You sat up in his lap, watching as the blond shivered in his spot, a smirk on your fiance’s face hidden by his fist as he leaned against it.

“Monama, what is it he did again?”

“Well Doll, he owes us money. He swears he’s good for it, but this is the third time he hasn’t been good for it.What should we do with this foolish, foolish man?”

Monama...ah yes now you remembered him! A little wanna be Mafia leader who went under when he ran out of money. He placed bets with other rival gangs against Deku, proclaiming that not only could he and his group get it done, but get it done better. 

There were times when they had, though just barely. It was hardly enough to keep a betting pool aimed against Deku however. Everyone but him seemed to know it. The overconfidence in his group and underestimating Deku lead to his downfall when Deku pulled off an impossible mission without even having to undo his tie.

When these gangs came to collect, he begged Deku to allow him and his group safety, help paying off the debt. Deku agreed, but in return, he had a year to earn the money back, only adding interest when the blond began getting too cocky. 

“I just need a little more time! A day, give me a day!” he pleaded, voice shrill and desperate. 

You winced, brows scrunched in annoyance.

Honestly, you didn’t care for Monama, and weren’t all too excited for his continued presence in the gang. You looked down at your nails idly.

“Have Dynamite follow him for a day then. If whatever magic he seems to think he can pull off, doesn’t in fact pull off, then he can have fun beating the change out of him. Or, whoever he’s seeing to get the money can pay it” You figured, even though he’d be annoyed at the idea of tailing that worm, Bakugou would have a good time beating it out of him.

Izuku gave Bakugou a look, who only snarled in response. A tilt of his head and Bakugou got up from his chair, footsteps heavy as he grabbed Monama by the arm, “Let’s get this over with you pathetic extra,” rolling his eyes as Moana sagged in slight relief, gratitude spilling from his lips.

Izuku held up a hand, “Let Red Riot escort him out for now. We have some business that you’d like to be here for I’m sure”

Bakugou’s eyes widened a fraction, a grin making its way onto his face as he shoved Monama towards Kirishima.

As Bakugou took his seat and Kirishima exited with Monama in tow, another man entered the room, a small man with purple hair. You recognized him as Mineta’s father. His son’s invention, a sticky substance that rendered anything in its grip as good as stuck, was what kept him in the group. What had him on thin ice however, was his treatment of the women in the group, all things he learned from his father. Izuku left Iida to beat it out of him however he saw fit. All it would take is one more strike. 

His father, however, was all out of strikes. The way he leered at you and the other girls had you all walking on eggshells around him. You only came forward to Izuku about it after you and the others had confided in one another. He had groped at you after a party the gang had thrown. It was the first and last time he’d ever made a physical move towards you.

You could feel the man's lecherous eyes on you, making you lean into Izuku, his body blocking the man's gaze. 

While you told him your story, Izuku’s face had remained calm, though the cup he had been holding shattered into thousands of pieces. He knew there were rumors about the senior, but to have it be found out as fact, and not just rumors from other gangs... He was furious, you knew that, and you knew somehow, someway, that Minoru senior would pay.

“Doll, why don’t you go talk to YaoMomo about wedding dresses, hm?” You nodded your head, though hesitant to leave the safety and comfort of his lap. You knew you were safe with Izuku by your side, but that didn’t mean you were comfortable passing by this...Disgusting being. His gaze softened and he hooked his arm around yours, escorting you personally towards the door.

Izuku tilted your head into a sweet kiss, his thumb rubbing comforting circles onto your side.

Izuku opened the door for you, but before you left, he kissed you again, deeper, sweeping away the sickly feeling of being watched with his tongue as it danced with yours, one hand cupping your jaw to pull you close.

He pulled away all too soon for your tastes, hand leaving your jaw, “Actually, maybe talk with her about the cake too, this may take a bit...” he turned away from you, eyes turning cold and jaded as the door closed.

“It’s about to get ugly in here”

[bluelancelion]

Here's some characters info about the Pirate/Assassin/Princess AU klance-Voltron fanfic that I'm writing!

(Lance is a pirate and Captain of a ship, Keith is an assassin with a mission and Allura is a runaway princess. They all end up in Lance's ship for a long, disastrous journey. What could possibly go wrong?)

CHARACTERS:

Lance

- Pirate

- Captain (we believe in Lance's leadership)

- homesick boy

- free spirit

- loverboy with a broken heart

- found family in the sea

- protective

- funny

- obnoxious

- touchy

- carefree

- kind

- stubborn

- very competitive

- looks ultra confident, he's actually insecure (his friends know it and they're here to support him)

Hunk

- A GOOD BOY

- Actually a fucking human tank

- He's like??? Insanely strong???

- Worked all his life with his family, decided to take his life in his hands and parted ways

- Knows Lance from childhood, he decided to go with him

- OR he didn't know him at first and he stumbled across him and became best friends ever since

- Best Cook ever

- Worst Pirate ever

- He got used to it though

- GOOD at shooting with cannons

- Actually the Fucking BEST

- Still gets scared about everything else and can you really blame him?

- Can and will repair every single piece of the ship

- Gifted boy with lots of pressure on him, but now he can live freely and do whatever he wants

- the mom friend half of the time

- shares his last two braincells with Pidge and Lance the other half

Pidge

- a fucking savage

- Looks like a cinnamon roll, could actually kill you

- Too fed up with the good girl stays at home sewing socks for nasty babies bullshit

- So she took her tools and left

- Stumbled across Hunk and Lance and found the family she never though she needed

- At some point they collect the other Holt too

- Can do phenomenal tricks with weapons

- Like, she can build from scratch cool things or modify already existent guns and swords and SHE LIKES TO BUILD BOMBS out of FUCKING NOWHERE???

- Blind like a mole

- her only weakness is her sight. No glasses? Sayonara.

- Which is funny because she's the look-out/sentry of the ship

Keith

- Social Anxiety

- Kills people off as a job but turns out to be a soft bean???

- Yeah Lance still has a hard time believing that

- fucking competitive

- loves knives more than people

- Actually love deprived

- "I push them away before they reject me"

- doesn't have a hair/skincare routine but still looks flawless and pretty

- perfect sight 100% perfect muscles super agile like a feline but WILL Stumble down a staircase if looking directly at a cute boy's ass eyes

- Cool in the streets, awkward in the sheets

- But that's cool cause Lance loves everything about him anyway

- Nah he's probably fine in bed, he's just so awkward in the courtship part?

- Which explains why he never had a stable relationship

- other than the fact that he slices people's throats off

- loves his brother

- a free spirit who's long been refrained by his own living style

- things that will change thanks to some cuban boy

- now he slices off people's throats IN THE SEA :D

- really fucking gay

- emo edge lord

Shiro

- Let the man rest in peace

- Wanted to have a normal life, work, get married, make a family and such

- Ends up armless in the middle of the fucking ocean adopting three underage pirates and one depressed boy under the jurisdiction of a runaway royalty.

- Honestly just let him die

- Decided to take a nap, got kidnapped instead

- Decided to get a vacation, got chased by bloody murderers instead

- Just wanted to chill from the start but I guess that's not gonna happen lol

- Actually pretty funny

- Bad dad jokes

- "Oh well since we're already at this point of the situation, might as well roll with it"

- His patience is a mask, he keeps going on by sipping tequila when nobody watches

- Can be awkward. Like, a parent level awkward

- the dad friend half feeling responsible about everything half not giving a shit anymore at some point

- tiddies

Allura

- a fucking badass

- "I can like cute things and can also kick you ass"

- feels bad about 80% of the time but the squad makes her feel worse

- just kidding they actually make her feel inlcuded

- which means they don't care about what she does or doesn't do

- which is new for her cause being a princess means being perfect and have etiquette and such

- but there she can be herself without standing up to any expectations

- so at some point she just lets go and starts living the way she wants

- old like Shiro but childish like Lance

- she and Shiro could be great leaders but here it's Lance supremacy, let the seniors be still and chill

- Even though she's free now, it's a good thing that Lance cares about beauty. They become skin product buddies

- Allura learns the way of a true living and becomes aware of how people live outside the castle (not that she never went out but those occasions became more rare as the enemy slowly rised, that's why Alfor took precautions.)

- (THIS FIC BASICALLY IS ABOUT HOW EVERYONE FOUND FREEDOM THANKS TO LANCE AND HOW ONE OF THEM GIVES HIM HIS HEART)

- God is a woman and her name is Allura

Coran

- the most gorgeous man you'll ever see

- The doctor of the crew!

- Very interested in science and medicine

- Can fix you up in no time, make awful jokes (very appreciated) and can make lotion to make moustaches grow faster

- Professional adviser in the castle becomes a very enthusiast pirate in 0.67 seconds because he's adventurous and lively and honestly everyone needs a Coran in their life

- "Coran, how can you get used to this life this quickly? It took me months to get used to it"

- "Well, you see Princess, it's all about the TONE of the speech and the GESTURE. If you want to be a pirate, you have to act like one" *puts on pirate blindfold and starts making weird noises to assert dominance*

- He's the man with a parrot on his shoulder

- generally enthusiast about everything

- just really loves learning things

- At some point becomes a drug dealer for a short time

- looks like he adopted everyone, is actually still aware of them

- it takes some time but he ends up adopting everyone

- other pirates make him compliments about his mustache

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

I'm being possessed by the inspirational demon and now I can't stop writing. Should I post the fic somewhere once I finish it?

Let me know in the comments :3

[my-makeshift-masquerade]

Riva Remembers

(A cheesy title for a fic I wrote while in the midst of an emotional breakdown, haha… I figured I’d post it on here because people seem to like my artwork of this OC so far. This is my first time writing these characters. Also I am on mobile and super duper tired from the aforementioned breakdown, so please pardon the long post. I have no idea how to put the read more thing on this… Regardless I hope someone enjoys this, I guess.)

“Agent Cruller, it’s me! Raz! I need to talk to you—“

“Sorry, senior staff only!” The old man in the mailroom office replied coldly, turning back to sorting the piles of letters with telekinesis.

“Don’t you know who I am?!” Nick’s voice came from farther into the mailroom, “I’m telling my dad!”

Razputin suddenly got an idea… He raced down to find his mentor standing there, eyes looking off in two separate directions. Another figure he recognized was on the verge of a nervous breakdown right next to him… Actually she looked like she had already been through multiple breakdowns before he even got here.

“Mr. Johnsmith?! Come on! It’s me! N-nick?!” The teen ran pale hands through her short brown hair, “Th-this is terrible! I am dead for sure!”

“Postage stamps…are scratch and sniff…” The pot-bellied man mumbled nonsensically beside her.

“Whoa, whoa, Riva…” The ten year old’s expression softened, “I was the one who found his brainless body… What do you mean you’re dead?”

“N-norma…she… t-told everyone I…”

“She thinks YOU’RE the mole?!” The child was taken aback, slightly angered even, “Why?!”

“I-I don’t know…M-maybe it’s because I didn’t notice the body before you…?” Riva sniffled, “It doesn’t matter… Agent Foresythe is going to have me detained…o-once she hears about this…”

“What?! No way!” He looked at her with determined eyes, “Don’t worry! I have a plan! I am going to get a new brain for Nick’s body, so he can let me into the mailroom office! Once I get there, I will be one step closer to proving you’re innocent!”

“Y-you really think… I-I’m innocent…?” Her tear filled blue eyes looked at him as if confused by his faith in her.

“I know you are!” He nodded, “Hey! Can you watch Ford for me until I get back? Make sure he doesn’t go anywhere!”

“F-ford…?” The other intern’s eyes narrowed at that name, as if she were squinting to see through a thick fog, “Ford…why does… Oh! Ford Cruller, right… He’s one of the psychic 6…” She shook her head, “Sorry, I am just…all over the place… These panic attacks take a lot out of me…”

“It’s all going to be okay.” The younger of the two gently took the other’s hand, waving to Nick before walking up to the office room, “Agent Cruller! This is my friend! She works in the mailroom—!”

“If she isn’t senior staff, that door ain’t openin’!” Ford declared before the boy could finish.

“Oh, I know!” Raz nodded, “This is Riva. She is having a hard time right now, and I don’t want to leave her alone. Maybe you two could talk or something?”

“Eh?! Oh, sure…sure thing…” The senior sounded slightly jostled for a moment, before returning to his distant demeanor, “Chit chat makes the sortin go faster…”

“Great!” The boy smiled at Riva before racing up to the exit of the mailroom, “I’ll be back as soon as possible!”

Soon after the sound of footsteps and levitation bubbles faded, the remaining intern heard the door creak open.

“Riva…” Cruller’s voice sounded slightly shaken, “I… Is it really you…?”

“S-sir…?” She frowned, “I-I don’t think we’ve met before…”

“Ah… I shoulda known you would’ve repressed it all…” He looked at the floor grimly, “They feared what you could become if you knew…”

“…W-what…?” The teen stepped away as the agent stepped closer, reaching a hand out to her. Eventually, she was against a wall.

“You…really were damaged by the feedback…weren’t you, kid…?” His bushy eyebrows furrowed in concern, “Back at Whisperin Rock… you remember that place, right…?”

Oh, that summer camp she got kicked out of only mere days in because she wasn’t even a real psychic?

“Yes, that’s the one.” Cruller answered her thoughts telepathically, “Except… you are psychic, Riva… Always have been… They just wanted you to believe you weren’t…so they could let you go back to society…”

Go…back…? Why wouldn’t she have been allowed to be in society if she was psychic? Isn’t that what the psychonauts are all about?

“You had potential, unlike what Nein Vodello and myself had ever seen from such a young mind… until Raz showed up, of course, but he was slightly older than you were…” He finally grabbed both of her hands, encasing them in his own, “You had such a gift with clairvoyance… it was beyond what the psychonauts ever thought was possible…”

“W-Wait…” She blinked, “You know Raz then? Why didn’t you just let him in the office…?”

“He’s not ready to learn the dark truths I’ve got tucked away in this old noggin…” The old man sighed, “I-I’m not ready for em, either… but… you are. You need to know the truth about yourself… You need to stop disregarding me when I say this: You ARE psychic…”

“B-BUT I’M NOT!” Riva tried to pull her hands away from him, to which he gently released them from their hold, “T-THAT CAMP WAS THE WORST THING THAT EVER HAPPENED TO ME! I THOUGHT I WOULD FIND SOMEWHERE I BELONGED, THAT I WAS GOOD FOR SOMETHING! B-but… I wasn’t… I-I was so full of myself to think I was special! M-My brains just BROKEN—“

“Stop it right there.” His voice became firmer, “Listen to me, before someone comes! Your potent clairvoyance meant we didn’t need any altering technology to convince you of a lie… You are so in tune with other people’s viewpoints and perspectives… you don’t even know what your reality is anymore… Other people tell you who you are, what you do, where you go. No more playin pretend, Riva.”

“I-I…b-but…”

“You were a psychic of high potential even at age 7, with budding specialities in clairvoyance, and hydrokinesis….” He smiled, “You… you made friends with every single piece of me, kid… I took you under my wing to teach you what I knew… but hydrokinesis… was a feared ability due to…well… another incident... When that secret spilled…”

“N-no… I-I can’t be… I-I don’t remember any of this!“

“Nein feared that your age, your diagnosis of autism, both combined with your psychic potential could result in you developing powerful abilities beyond even your own control…” Ford shook his head, “Headquarters wanted to lock ya up for observation in a psychoisolation facility for life… but, Sasha found a loophole. By having someone tell you that their biased perspective was reality, your brain would doubt its own perception, and start to believe them. That’s how we managed to let you leave that campsite with your family…”

By this point Riva was speechless, as countless memories she thought she had selfishly dreamed about returned to her. She fell to her knees, staring at nothing as she was flooded with all that she had forgotten. The ruthless bullying at camp, and their sabotaging of her efforts to learn to use her powers… That time they tried to drown her in the lake and she washed them all ashore on accident… the horror on everyone’s faces… It all actually happened?!

There were some happy things hidden in the mess, though… The time she’d spend drawing the wildlife out there, the cool places to explore… and the single friend she made at camp… That’s right, the cook was always there to comfort her after the other kids picked on her… No, wait, it was the ranger… But then why’d she remember a janitor, and a man watching over the canoes…? Why did they all look the same, identical even…? Then there was one more in a psychonauts uniform…

“There ya go. Now you’re getting it…” His frail hand grabbed one of hers, helping her up with a chuckle. “I should look more familiar to ya now, eh?”

She made eye contact again, and felt so stupid for not noticing this before. Riva always had an interest in the psychonauts, because they seemed like they could tolerate different minds. If her family could afford it, she would even read True Psychic Tales, mainly because she admired the illustrations. How could she not realize she knew Ford “The Founder Of This Whole Place” Cruller until now?!

Yet, at the same time, she felt her eyes water. It was nice to know she had a friend back then, even if he was old enough to be her grandpa. She didn’t say a word, and extended her free arm as an invitation…for something she definitely needed and wouldn’t want to get from Nick. The agent understood, and they hugged for a brief moment. She felt like this had happened before.

“I-I… I’m glad to see you, Mr. Cruller, b-but…” She quickly shifted back to worrying, “I-I am not in the best situation to do much of anything regarding the truth right now… I know Norma is telling Hollis I am the spy in the psychonauts… I-I am going to get locked up in the end anyway… T-they didn’t believe me before… Why would they believe me now—?”

He was gone.

The intercom sounded, with Hollis’ sharp voice ringing out, “Would Riva Beckons please come to the main area IMMEDIATELY!”

[nyxocity]

Fic Writer Questions!

Thanks to @redmyeyes for the tag!

1) How many works do you have on AO3?

82, although that's not even close to my actual total. There's a bunch on LJ that have never been transferred (all shorter works)

2) What’s your total AO3 word count?

1,780,805 (over 2mil on LJ)

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

Mostly three, plus a couple dips into a few other pools. X-Men Comic Book fandom, Buffy & Angel fandom (they kinda count as one since it's the same universe), and Supernatural & SPN RPF. Dips have included Dragon Age, Firefly, a tiny bit of TVD, a Sons of Anarchy crossover.

4) What are your top 5 fics by kudos?

This is tough if I go by numbering. Homework Verse has the most kudos scattered across all parts, but Stranger Than Fiction has the most as a single story. Anyway...

Homework Verse (J2 RPF, 200k+ words) - My very first RPF fic, Supernatural or otherwise. Two of my online fandom friends basically TOLD me I was going to write Teacher/Student J2, and I kept protesting that I drew the line at RPF. They didn't care. 200k later, here we are. This story was a game changer for me; it made me fandom famous. I still love those boys with my whole heart, and they still talk to me sometimes.

Stranger Than Fiction (Sam/Dean, 50644 words) - This story idea took root immediately following the episode The Monster at the End of This Book. I quit the Big Bang I'd already begun writing for that year (which was Who Watches Over Me, which I finished and posted for BB the following year) to write this story. It just took hold hold of me and took over. I wrote it in 6 weeks and it was easily the most fun I ever had writing anything--I cackled like a madwoman most of the time.

Who Watches Over Me (J2 RPF, 96591 words) - This story was, at the time, the toughest thing I'd ever written. Little did I know that would become the norm and not the exception, as I began to write more complex stories. It was by far the longest story I had ever posted all at once in its entirety (rather than chapter by chapter) and I had no idea if people would like it. Fortunately a lot of people did.

Like Staring Into the Sun (Sam/Dean, 23243 words) - Ah, my very first hardcore Wincest fic. I remember writing the first chapter of the story (meant to be a one shot honestly), and just sitting there, at 5am, being terrified to post it. It was twisted, dark and intense and SO porny I was scared people might think I was weird. There wasn't anything like it out there at the time. As it turns out, people loved it so much I ended up writing eight more parts.

Like a Fish Out of Water (Sam/Dean, 59498 words) - I have a lot of love for this story. It didn't come to me easily, but it was fun to write. I remember smiling a lot and just having a nice, warm cozy feeling the whole time. I had no idea if anyone was interested in reading this many words of what amounted to a dramedy curtain fic

Of course there are other stories that I feel deserve love, but I can't argue with these.

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

I do. And by that, I mean I try. I don't always succeed in answering them all, but I answer as many as I have time and energy for. Life is busy and there is writing to do as well. I read every comment I get (multiple times) and I feel guilty for all the ones I don't answer, because they mean SO MUCH TO ME. Like you took time to leave this beautiful, well thought out comment, or even a keysmash, or a heart, in response to something I wrote. That means the world.

I WISH there was a reaction function for comments on Ao3, so I could heart things, or laugh in response. Replying with emojis without words feels weird. So yeah, a reaction function would be amazing. But in the meantime, I do my best.

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

Hmm. Probably A Touch of Evil. Interestingly, it's also a HAPPY ending, so there you go lol. It's a serial killer love story with a happy ending that comes at an exorbitant price.

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

I'm not sure why the OG post skips from 6 to 8 lol . So, yes, I have written a few minors crossovers. Mostly Faith in the SPN verse with the boys, nothing too crazy, because she fits right in. But for long stories, I have written all of ONE crossover. It's Dean Winchester/Jax Teller (SPN / Sons of Anarchy). My crossovers so far have tended to make sense to crossover, so I don't think any of them are crazy.

9) Have you ever received hate on a fic?

Yes. I got some hate on a Buffy/Xander fic back in the day. I got really excited and had fun with it. Like yeah, now I'm SOMEBODY! You're no one til someone hates you lol Most of that was people who were haters of the ship, or were like, gross, they're like brother and sister (they weren't, they were FRIENDS). I've gotten nasty comments here and there on some of my SPN fic. My favorite was the person who accused me of having a "Top Dean Agenda". I STILL laugh about that one. I don't respond to that crap.

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

Have you MET ME? LOL If I ever post a story without smut just put me out to pasture, because I'm done. And all kinds. Het, Gay, PWP, Plotty porn, mostly super kinky but some vanilla (but intense). I used to challenge myself regularly to see if I could up my kink game--like hmm, but could I write THIS? I haven't written really kinky sex in a long time, though. Might be time to do that.

11) Have you ever had a fic stolen?

Several times. Who Watches Over me was stolen by someone and converted to One Direction Lourry fic. Literally just did a name change. Someone else stole a bunch of my one shots and passed them off as their own. I know there were a couple other instances but I only vaguely remember. I never got too deep into it, most of the time the people who discovered the theft already told everyone else too, and the plagiarist had been hammered by them so hard that I didn't have to step in before they took it down.

12) Have you ever had a fic translated?

Yes. I used to get requests so often that I just posted my usual response in my profile for people to read instead of replying. Definitely into Russian and Chinese for most of the stories listed with most kudos above.

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

A few times on one shot fics. SO MUCH FUN. I love co-writing with people.

14) What’s your all time favorite ship?

Sam/Dean. Easily. Hands down. I just love their unique relationship, bond and love so much.

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

Well I finally finished A Touch of Evil after posting 3 chapters in 2009 and never touching it again until 2017. And I never thought I'd finish that. So never say never, I say. That said, there's the third and final part of my X-Men comic book epic that remains unfinished by about five (shorter) chapters, and it HAUNTS ME. But I don't think I'll ever finish it.

16) What are your writing strengths?

NOW we get to the hard questions. I'm really good at dialogue, bouncing banter back and forth between characters, and I have a sense for how long a scene should be. I just KNOW when it's going on too long, even if there's more that needs to be said, and I try to tighten it up in that case.

A friend of mine once told me "Porn is my gift". I don't write as much of it as I used to, but yeah, I shine in that area.

17) What are your writing weaknesses?

So I always reach a point after writing so many words in an unpublished fic where I'm like, I have no idea if this is even any good/makes sense/hangs together etc. Beyond that, I've been writing for so long that I've had so much practice that I've strengthened a lot of my weaknesses. I'm sure I still have some, but I don't FEEL them like I used to anymore. That said, there are things I simply will not write. Like historical pieces. Because I would research the fuck out of every detail trying to get it perfect and then I would still doubt myself completely.

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

I mostly try to avoid it, because there's no way I would ever get the language correct. I usually write it in English and then explain that they're saying it in another language. Like, "What are you doing?" the man asks, speaking in Chinese. Then reiterate in the continuing dialogue in various ways that they're speaking in Chinese.

19) What was the first fandom you wrote for?

X-Men Comic Book fandom. I was reading a lot of Remy/Rogue fic back in 1996-1997, and one day I was like, you know what? This person did a pretty good job on this story. It's not great, but it's pretty good, and if they can have the guts to put it out there, then I can do it, too.

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

This is a tough question. I don't love all my children equally, but I love them all a lot in different ways lol

Remembering favorite is different than which one I think is BEST... Homework Verse is probably my favorite. I was learning so much about writing then, I was really growing, and discovering, and pushing my limits. Those characters lived and breathed in me, I swear they spoke through me from some alternate universe. They feel so REAL to me. There's so much of what I've learned in life in that story, like really, big, life changing ideas and understandings that happened to me that I put into that story. There's so much of me in that story, and yet there's so much of THEM, too. It's their story, but it's also mine. It's raw and not entirely perfect and it feels like home to me.

--

So that's it, that's my piece. I feel like EVERYONE has been tagged since it took me 3 days to have time to do this, but I'm basically tagging any of you writers out there who haven't done this yet!

[fightingmonsterswithwords]

A Piece of the Hopeful Future (Guzma x Reader) - SbtT related

PAIRING: Guzma x Reader

RELATED WORKS: Swept by the Tempest, Raindrops

TAGS: Soulmate AU, angst and fluff, mentions of past abuse, happy ending

Read in AO3:  https://archiveofourown.org/works/19083682/chapters/72666225

(A/N):

So... something truly magical has happened and I was able to actually write something. ????? *throws confetti*

As I addressed earlier this afternoon, today marks the fourth anniversary of Swept by the Tempest, my greatest achievement to date fic-wise and writing-wise in general. And of course I wanted to make something special, because it’s a special story to me (even if it also keeps giving me many a headache) and you deserve a gift for putting up with me (the worst author ever) for all these years.

(I just finished it and I haven’t revised anything - pushing midnight here where I live, and I wanted to post it today. I’ll fix mistakes tomorrow.)

It’s just a little one-shot (barely ~1k words long) but I hope you like it. I guess I will add it to the Raindrops file in AO3, feels pretty canon to me *coughs*. I actually think this is the first piece I ever post directly in here, lmao. I don’t really know what to write in this section. Anyway, enjoy! ❤

———————————————————————

The clap of thunder wakes him up. Anyone would say he should have grown used to the angry clamour of the skies by now, after so many years living in the heart of a near perpetual storm. Guzma rolls onto his back with a languid groan and stretches his long limbs, claiming ownership of the whole bed with absolutely no intention of getting up yet.

The cold, empty touch beneath his outstretched left hand sits wrong with him, fingers twisting on the already wrinkled sheets, and he frowns through closed eyes. What is missing?

Barely keeping afloat in the lingering drowsiness, his mind attaches to wisps of the dream he just left behind. And what a crazy dream it was, Guzma thinks with a despondent inward laugh. Because, you see, his brain must be even more fried than he thought for the kind of impossible nonsense it conjured up—that he found you, the soulmate he had been forever waiting for, and, well, not all of it was smooth-sailing from the get-go, not by a long shot, but together you eventually made it work. And you were perfect. And you wanted him, broken and all. And life was good.

Too good to be true.

He hates it when his mind does this, when it tricks him so ruthlessly. When it makes him think he’s back on that childish bedroom filled with useless trophies, when it replicates the dreaded sound of heavy footsteps stopping right by his door—he can see the ominous shadow on the gap underneath—and even now, even knowing it’s all a nightmare, he holds his breath praying silently that it goes away, that the doorknob doesn’t turn to let in the yelling and the pain.

His back itches, just thinking of it, and Guzma hates himself for it. Even more so, thinking back to the other dream, for letting himself believe such wonderful lie could be possible. Could be real. But he knows everything will turn to dust the moment his eyes open to the cobweb-riddled ceiling of his so-called throne room, dark, lonely, foul-smelling…

Wait a moment.

Guzma blinks like a Rowlet at the pristine, white ceiling of not-his-throne-room. The air smells clean, nice, with a fruity undertone that clings to the fluffy pillow under his head and, all on its own, warms his heart. The bedroom is dim, quiet. The rain taps on the window and patters on the roof, but it’s a gentle drumming, soothing. From beyond the ajar door, a soft beam of yellow light spills inside along with the distant clanking of kitchenware.

It was no dream. Everything rushes back to him, all at once, and he takes a deep, shuddering breath. Now, he remembers. This is the bed where you fall asleep right beside him every night, in the bedroom you decorated, in the home you accepted to share with him.

While he lies there, foolishly coming to terms with reality, the door opens a bit more and Guzma sits up a little to see an Umbreon—your Umbreon—appear on the threshold. The furry pokémon just stays there and squints at him with luminous red eyes, like questioning what is wrong with him.

But before he can open his mouth, your head also pokes inside right behind Umbreon and the sudden warmth that fills Guzma from the inside out, like the comfortable tingling of sunlight on a cool spring morning, knocks any clever remark away.

“Hey, you finally woke up,” you say with a beaming smile, walking into the room. There’s a bowl of batter in your hands that you seem in the midst of stirring. When still he doesn’t say anything, your quirk an eyebrow, amused. “What’s the matter, Sleeping Beautifly? Oh, right, as your knight in shining armour I’m supposed to break the dark spell with a true love kiss.”

Clad in those ridiculous Wooloo slippers he gave you last Christmas, you close the distance to the bed with five soft steps and then, mindful of the bowl and the mess nobody would be thrilled to clean if its contents spilled, you bend down at the waist and lovingly press your mouth to his. Once, and again, more insistent, and a third time with a delighted sigh that ghosts over his moist lips when Guzma at last reclaims control over his mind and body and moves to hold the back of your head and pull you closer.

You laugh breathily when at length freed from the embrace, cheeks flushed red. “Alright, alright – cut it out, mister. There will be plenty of time for that later. Power was out for a while due to the storm and I’m way behind on everything. Plumes, Kukui, the kids and the rest of the guys will be here in an hour and I’m still not finished with the cake! So, get your ass out of that bed and at least have the decency to shower, birthday boy.”

“Huh?”

“By the Tapus, that must have been a really weird nap. I’ve never seen you so quiet for so long. You look as though you have seen a ghost or something. Come on – shower, clothes, then I promise we can play with the leftover icing if there’s time before the guests start arriving,” you walk out with a naughty wink. “I've got a little surprise gift for you.”

A weird nap, indeed.

Guzma rubs the sleep from his eyes, exhaling a bitter laugh. How could he have been so easily fooled by his own mind into believing everything had been a lie? Thrown back to the darkest of times, when he held no hope whatsoever and the name that branded his skin was only attached to a delirious idea of salvation. But it’s all real. He found you. And you love him, broken and all. And life is good.

Closing his eyes to the sound of your singing in the kitchen, Guzma smiles and wishes, more than anything, that he could tell his past self… that everything would be alright.