#ever put something in your drafts and forget it exists

[baejax-the-great]

Hello! If you don't mind me asking, do you have any hcs on what would happen after the events in Agua Caliente? Like, how serious would their relationship become? Would Patroclus be more open to the concept of reinviting sex to their relationship? How is Achilles' smoothie shop/Pat's degree going? Would Achilles finally get to invite his sons to his house? Any news of my favorite couple would be wonderful!

The boys visit Achilles in chapter 15. He sees them every other weekend. He also ends up getting them for Christmas. The boys meet Patroclus at the smoothie shop along with Achilles' employees, and Christmas is the first time he comes over to spend time with them in a more official capacity. It goes about as well as expected. They like him when his hands are full of presents. Otherwise...

Patroclus did not buy an air mattress specifically for fucking in the desert for nothing. He gets there eventually. He also ends up going on a camping trip with Achilles and the boys, which is a strange experience for him. Pyrrhus is really not into having Patroclus around at all, so it's a slow adjustment. Oneiros is pretty chill with it because Pat will play whatever game he wants. Deidamia grows used to her sons being returned to her covered in cat hair.

Things get a little tense around the time Patroclus finishes his PhD. Patroclus has been very stern with himself about not revolving his life around Achilles and his needs, so he originally casts his net wide when looking for jobs. Achilles can't move farther away from his sons than San Diego (and also he has that whole business thing), and Patroclus gets really closed off during this time. He eventually realizes he is standing in the way of his own happiness here, decides to only look for jobs in San Diego, and invites Achilles and all the cats to move in with him.

Over the years, beach volleyball ends up becoming too much of a challenge on the knees of these tall, middle-aged men, and they pick up hand ball or pickle ball or whatever that game is. By this time, Achilles is absolutely covered in tattoos.

[dailyadventureprompts]

Adventure: A Draft Through the Door

An unnatural gloom creeps over the countryside, the shadows grow long and the dawn seems slow to rise. The townsfolk grow increasingly listless, and have asked your party to investigate the mage's manor across the lake, which seems to be the origin of this miasmic melancholia. Your journey will not be an easy one, as the landscape grows ever more eerie, and things are seen to move in the drifting banks of mist.

Of the many reasons that wizards take on apprentices (passing down knowledge, having a sounding board for new theories, an extra pair of hands to prepare spell components and do the sweeping up) one of the less discussed ones is how vital it is to have a second pair of eyes on lookout for when something magical inevitably goes wrong.

It makes sense when you think about it, a proper wizard's mind is too full of brilliance to bother with things like making sure that week's batch of potions don't boil over in the cauldron or that the stacked tomes of lore present a firehazard if they're not put away.

So it was with the mage Milghram Brightstaff and his precocious apprentice Adaline, who lived a quaint existence in the manor by the edge of the lake filling their days with scholarship, experiments, and attending to the problems brought to them by locals visiting from across the countryside. That was until mage Milghram decided to pop off to his extra-dimensional storage unit by way of a shadowfell portal in the manor's basement. He thought he'd only been gone a few hours, but neglected to apply the protective charm required to spare himself from the memory-sapping defences guarding his vault. now Milghram wanders the land of shades in a perpetual state of "why did I come into this room?" while the essence of that dread dimension leak back through his unclosed portal.

Adventure Hooks:

The party might've been sent to seek out the wizard, or visit town on their own buisness. Either way nothing's getting done so long as the countyside is blanketed in memory erroding fog and creatures from the shadow realm stalk through the murk. After several nights worth of exposure the town's defenders have had the wost of it, having forgotten what they're guarding or why they've established barricades.. it'll take some guile or calm negoitation for them to let the heroes past the gate.

When the party eventually gets to the manor they'll not only find the place locked, shuttered, and in many cases barricaded, but also protected by a slew of arcane defences ranging from animated objects to teleportation traps that will hurl them out into the lake. Two thirds of the way through their magical B&E and likely expecting a mad wizard to emerge from the shadows and begin a villain monolog, they'll instead find an exhausted teen running through the manor hurling heedless spells at a fleeing bug-thing demanding they help catch it before it gets too big.

For a girl of only fourteen winters beset on all sides by living nightmares Adaline is handling herself marvellously. She's activated the manor's wards sealing the worst of the cursed mist in the basement (or atleast she had until the party chopped their way in) and has been using a borrowed wand to hunt down most of the shadow creatures that have begun to infest the manor grounds. She's deeply worried about her teacher however, and blames herself for the series of distractions that led the old man to forgetting to throw on his protective charm. Depending on how they play it, they can either have her charm them and venture into the portal looking for the errant mage, or attempt to distract her long enough to close the portal themselves and leave the old wizard for dead.

Art

[fameadventura]

The One Who Got Away

But that's the thing about life, right? It doesn't care about your plans. It doesn't stop to ask if you're ready or if you need more time. It just moves forward, dragging you along, leaving you scrambling to catch up. And now here I am, stuck in this awkward space between letting go and holding on, knowing that no matter how much I try to convince myself otherwise, it won't be me walking next to you. It's a cruel irony—knowing what you want, seeing it so close, but watching from a distance as someone else gets to live it.

And I guess, deep down, I knew. I knew that it wasn't going to happen. But there was always this tiny sliver of hope, a stubborn part of me that believed it could. That maybe, just maybe, you'd wake up one day and realize that I was right there, ready and willing. But that day never came, and now I'm left with nothing but these thoughts I can't shake. It's annoying, really, because how do you stop feeling something so strong? How do you let go of someone who feels like a part of you, even though you never really had them?

I want to be happy for you, I really do. I want to be the person who can smile and mean it when I say, "I'm glad you found someone who makes you happy." But I'm not there yet. I'm still tangled up in the 'what ifs' and 'could have been,' still hoping for a reality I know will never exist.

And the hardest part is knowing that, at the end of the day, you won't even know. You won't ever fully understand what you meant to me or how much it hurts to see you with him. Because I never told you. And it's my fault; it's on me. I don't blame you—I can't. Maybe I was scared; maybe I was just waiting for the "perfect moment" instead of allowing our perfect moment to happen.

Either way, it doesn't matter, and as much as I wish I could rewrite the ending, I'm not the writer this time.

And that's the hardest part—because, as a writer, I know how to create these stories and build worlds that don't exist. I get to choose who's happy, who gets hurt, who falls in love, and who loses. I can put together words to form the most beautiful images. I've really mastered that—except for this story. Our story.

I envision a million different ways it could have gone—a world where I was the one who renewed your faith in love, eased your hardest days, and brought sunshine to your cloudy skies. I was supposed to be the one who made you smile every day—the one who made you forget everything you'd been through. But those are just drafts of a story never meant to be told.

I thought I could pen my way out of this heartache, and if I wrote about it, it would make sense somehow. But this time, I'm just a character, an afterthought within the margins...

I really just said a bunch of words to say that I am truly happy for you; it's just that I wish it were me. 

[gin-juice-tonic]

can i ask how youre able to make so many comics or if you have any tips for aspiring internet funny comic makers? your gag comics are always so creative and funny and well-executed, and your longer form stuff is just a delight to read, i would love to know if u have any advice/insight into yr process

I'm not good at advice so you will have to bear with me here. Also I'm putting it under a readmore cause images make it into a long post. The like first 3/4th of this I talk about specific comics I did, but if you scroll to the end I tried to give some general advice.

My stuff is unfortunately very inspiration-based as opposed to planning-based. So my process might not be helpful if you're looking for something structured... The first thing I should say is I write down basically anything that pops into my head ever. I have a bunch of nonsensical tumblr drafts,

I have stuff in my phones notes app,

I have pages and pages of papers and post-it notes littering my apartment (if you want to know the extent, my sister asked me how I could live with my apartment being so "messy". The only messy thing in it is my papers scattered about). I find the paper stuff the best, because I can draw instead of just writing down concepts.

This is the page I did for the comic about Stan "comforting" Dipper over his unrequited crush on Wendy. (The tumblr version being here)

You will notice aside from the order on the page being strange and some scratched out dialogue, there's not really evidence of a 'plan' here. That's because I was just drawing this as I was thinking it. You will also notice there are two random unrelated Ford drawings in the middle of the page. That's because I was drawing ANYTHING that I was thinking of.

And when I say write down anything, I do mean it. Write down something you did that week, something you remember from when you were 8, something you said out loud and laughed at, things you thought about in the shower, a fact you learned, what your friend had for dinner. See if you can apply it to something. I've mentioned before that this comic only exists because I ran out of toilet paper and went to buy a large bulk pack of it...

When I already have a base idea and just want to expand on it, I usually draw first ask questions later, and things seem to just snowball into being a story. As an example, for the comic I did about Dipper's swimsuit, the base idea was just "Dipper and Stan both wear fully covering swimwear - because they're trans and its what they're comfortable with." But when I went to look up what Dipper wore to the pool, i noticed mabel had a Star one piece suit

Dipper has a star hat in the first episode that he loses, right? SO why don't we give him a matching star one piece that he abandons.

Of course then that single drawing CREATES the story, because we have to explain how he eventually ends up in what he's wearing in the episode. And then I just draw and draw and draw until either the comic ends or I can't continue for whatever reason. The outline for the full thing usually forms while I'm drawing. If I'm worried about forgetting, I'll write down what comes next.

Some of this stuff I didn't stick to, or greatly expanded upon. It's good to be flexible with what you're doing. If something you originally intended only to be a throwaway bit inspires you, roll with it and keep going. (If it ends up being nothing, you can always discard it or turn it into something else later anyway)

I did the swimsuit one basically fully on my computer, but if you want to see another paper based one, a lot of the comic with the kid stans and crampelter I'm doing currently is down on paper.

If you can make out my writing, you can see it says "Crampelter has found out about Stan and Ford's boxing identities" at the top there, which was the general main idea of this part of the comic. This one was a lot more planned than the dipper swimsuit one. There's multiple pages of this sort of stuff, and I knew the idea I wanted was "If Ford and Stan are trans, why would they still be called those names as kids?" (So I guess the takeaway from this one is if you're wanting a structured comic, write down the main idea on the top of a page and brainstorm dialogue and drawings on it?)

There's a lot of sort of floating heads with dialogue, all that matters is I get the emotions or general idea drawn. They're important for me to draw out because being able to "see" the scene (even if I'm seeing it heavily unfinished) is what usually inspires the next bit of the comic.

And I know I talked like a lot already but some general other advice:

Draw, ask questions about what you've drawn, draw more to answer the questions, see if those new drawings ask any new questions, continue this process till you come to a satisfying resolution.

It's fine to not draw something immediately after you've thought of it. I have a lot of things I've just squirreled away for later. And in the same vein its okay to drag something old up that you've never used and try to work with it.

I almost always put on music while I'm trying to think of things. Something I feel fits the mood of what I'm doing tonally. And then I usually just put the same song on repeat, though some people im sure would feel like that is psychological torture. But its helpful to me.

This might sound silly if you're someone who leaves the house a societally normal amount, but I try to go out into the world and do things so I get new ideas and experiences I can build on. Sometimes those things are literally just "go to the park", but sometimes it's venturing out somewhere several hours away or doing an activity i'd never care to do normally... I try to take note of anything that stood out to me and write down thoughts or feelings I had during.

When it comes to trying to be "funny", you should try to make yourself laugh first. Not only because you want your comics to bring yourself joy, but also because its just hard to make stuff you don't care about (And harder to be consistent about it). Though if you think of something and you don't really think its funny, you don't have to throw it away! You might be surprised what other people end up liking. So don't kill yourself to write jokes you yourself don't really get, but if your brain spits out something on its own you dont care much for, it still may be gold to someone else.

It's okay to make comics about simple and relatable things. People love relating. And depending on what you're writing about, that relatability may be really needed!

Everyone has something of value to say. Even if you yourself don't feel like the things you're saying matter, or that they're too silly or un-serious to matter. They matter.

[derangedangel]

Forgive and Forget - Elijah Mikaelson

Summary: Elijah compels you to forget him then you run into him in New Orleans 

Elijah Mikaelson x Reader

Word Count: 5,331

Author’s Note: This has been in my drafts since 2020 lol. I only thought about it because I’m going to a TVD Con this month and I’m seeing Daniel Gillies again so I started re-reading Elijah fics and remembered this bad boy. Also this is my first Elijah fic! Reblogs and comments are appreciated. Dividers are from @firefly-graphics​

Elijah knew what he had to do and he hated himself for it. He always wanted to give you a choice. For you to make your own decisions. But for this, he had to take things into his own hands. 

“What’s wrong, Elijah,” you asked staring into his brown eyes instantly knowing something wasn’t right. You reached up, running your hands through his hair.

“I- I’m sorry,” he replied, his eyes glossing over with unshed tears.

You shook your head confused. “Sorry about what?”

Elijah’s eyes dilated before he spoke. “You are going to forget me.”

“No,” you said in disbelief as you shook your head. “No, Elijah, don’t do this.”

Elijah ignored your pleas and held your head firmly in his hands so you couldn’t look away. “You will have no memory of us, or the times we have shared. You won’t remember that vampires exist, or who Elijah Mikaleson is.” He paused as he stared into your eyes slowly forgetting your whole relationship with him. “You will make new friends, and find love.” 

Elijah constantly thought of you. Even now in New Orleans while Klaus was plotting against the witches, he wondered how you were doing. After he compelled you to forget him, he would occasionally check on you. One day he went back to the town you lived in and you were gone. No trace of where you went. He thought it was for the best. It felt like torture every time he went back and wasn’t able to speak to you. Plus with Klaus regularly making a new enemy, he didn’t need anyone finding out about you and using you against him. 

New Orleans was packed for Mardi Gras. Tourist and locals made there way through the streets and Elijah was over it. All he wanted to do was was go home, but he had to keep an eye out on the witches. He made his way down Bourbon to check on one of the voodoo shops. That’s when he saw you... well he thinks it’s you. Although it had only been a few years and it could have very well been you, he was in denial. New Orleans was a popular vacation destination, especially during Mardi Gras, but for some reason he felt like he saw a ghost.

Elijah quickly changed course and followed the person he thought was you. Of all the bars you could have went into, you choose Rousseau’s. He followed the back of your head and the small group of women you were with. Weaving in and out of people you found a table and he finally caught a glimpse of your profile. Elijah’s breath hitched and he felt as the whole bar went silent. It was you. 

You were just as beautiful as ever. Besides your hair being slightly different, you looked exactly as you did the day he compelled you. 

“Take a picture, it’ll last longer,” a voice said next to Elijah but he didn’t take his eyes off you.

“Good evening, Camille.”

Camille glanced at you then back at Elijah. She would have told him to just go over and talk to you, but she knew the trouble the Mikaelsons caused, and didn’t want to put a stranger through that. 

“The tourist are starting to get worried about a creepy man in a suit staring at some woman plotting on how he can kidnap her.”

Elijah finally stopped gaping at you and looked at Camille. “I just came in for a drink.”

“Mmhmm... right,” Camille said then went over to the bar to pour Elijah’s usual drink. 

Elijah sat at the bar much longer than he should have. He watched you laugh with your friends. He noticed small quirks that you used to have years ago. How you would twirl your necklace in between your fingers as you told a story. How your lips would quiver when you tried to hold in a laugh before you would burst out giggling as you tossed your head back. 

Everything was find until a man approached your table. His eyes were set on you and Elijah hated it. He wanted so badly not to listen in on your conversation. He had no right. Then he saw you get up and he just had to hear what you were saying.

“Let’s step outside.”

Elijah was on his feet in an instant. He tossed down some cash to pay for his drink and tip Camille, then he followed you outside. The streets were still crowded, but no one seemed to notice you walking the man into the alley. 

You pushed the man against the wall and a flash of excitement with a mix of nervousness grew in the man’s eyes. Elijah watched you whisper something to the man as he stepped closer. Then suddenly you turned around and shoved Elijah against the wall on the other side of the alley.

“Why are you- Elijah,” you said totally confused.

“Y/N,” Elijah said at the same time you spoke, equally as lost as you were.

“What are you...,” you said in a low voice. 

“What’s happening,” the man you were about to feed from asked. His voice shaky and scared.

You rolled your eyes then turned around to compel him.

“You will forget meeting me and this little encounter in the alley. Go back to your friends and find some other woman to flirt with.” 

You watched the man walk away, sighing before turning back towards Elijah.

“Y/N... what happened to you?”

“Isn’t it obvious,” you said shrugging. “Super speed. The ability to compel.”

Elijah huffed. “I know you’re a vampire, Y/N. But the last time I saw you, you were human and living a happy life.” 

You crossed your arms over your chest giving Elijah a slightly annoyed look. “And the last time I saw you, you compelled me to forget about you and our relationship.”

Elijah looked down, guilt filling his eyes as he stuffed his hands into his pockets. “It’s not my proudest moment, but I assure you I had my reasons.”

“Please do enlighten me.”

He licked his lips before he spoke, taking time with his words. “An alley doesn’t seem like the best place to have this conversation.”

You sighed annoyed at the original. “Fine. Let me go tell my friends I’m leaving first.”

Elijah followed you back into the bar and waited for you at the door while you told your friends you were heading out early. He watched you say something to the women around the small table, then they all turned towards the door to look at him. Elijah was normally a very composed man, but seeing four sets of eyes land on him after his ex told them she was going with him to talk had him a little nervous. 

“Lead the way,” you said after you walked back to Elijah. 

The walk was awkward and quiet, neither of you wanting to speak first. You weren’t sure where he was taking you, or if he wanted to wait until you got there to talk. After a few minutes, you made it to Jackson Square. Since it was late in the evening, all the street performers were gone and the tourist with them. There were just a few people roaming the streets. Elijah walked over to a bench and you took that as your queue to sit.

“I’m not quite sure where to start,” Elijah said as he unbuttoned his suit jacket to sit down next to you.

“How about why you compelled me to forget about you... about us,” you replied, hurt dripping from your words. Although it happened years ago, and you thought you already dealt with it, seeing Elijah hurt more than you wanted to lead on.

“There’s so much you don’t know, Y/N,” Elijah said fiddling with his collar now.

“Then tell me,” you said making him make eye contact with him. “I’m not some naïve little girl. Don’t beat around the bush, just tell me.”

“Do you remember me ever speaking of my brother Niklaus?”

“Yeah, you didn’t talk much about any of your family. I could tell there was something wrong, but I didn’t want to push. You would tell me when you were ready.”

“Well, Niklaus is my half brother. His biological father was a werewolf. So while the rest of my siblings and I were vampires, he was a hybrid. But our mother hid that from him. She put a curse on him to make his werewolf side dormant. For centuries my brother tried to break the curse, but he needed the doppelganger.” 

“Doppelganger,” you asked completely confused as to what that was and why he was telling you all of this.

“A double of the woman my mother used to suppress his werewolf abilities. They are apart of the same bloodline, so her blood could be used to reverse the curse.”

“Okay... so what does this have to do with us?”

“I received word that a new doppelganger was in Mystic Falls. I needed to get to her before Klaus did because I planned to use her against my brother.”

Elijah paused for a moment giving you time to interrupt. “Use her against him? Why? That’s your brother.”

“My brother has done a lot of harm in his thousand years of living. Most to others who stood in his way, but also to our family. Because of his hybrid nature, he is able to dagger our family. He told me he through our siblings' coffins into the sea. I wanted revenge.”

“Your brother sounds like an ass,” you said. Now you were facing Elijah more on the bench. You head was propped up on your head as you leaned against the bench, with you legs curled underneath you.

Elijah chuckled under his breath. “That he is. But I knew I couldn’t seek the revenge I wanted with you in my life. Niklaus would use you against me and I could not have you be put at risk because me.”

“So you made me forget,” you said slowly gazing up at him.

“I made you forget,” Elijah said looking off into the distance. He unbuttoned the top two buttons of his shirt and loosened his tie. Although the two of you were outside, the air felt thick to him.

“Look, Elijah, I’m not trying to rekindle an old flame or anything. I just need closure. Why couldn’t you have just told me all this then? Let me remember you, or our relationship, or vampires at the least. Maybe I wouldn’t be what I am now.”

“Y/N, I know you,” Elijah said looking at you now. “You wouldn’t have accepted that it was just over. I couldn’t have you come looking for me and get pulled into my mayhem.” 

“Maybe,” you muttered. 

“Now that we’ve discussed that, can you inform me on how you-”

“Became a vampire,” you interrupted and he nodded. You sighed pulling your legs from underneath you, leaning forward onto your knees. “There was a guy. We had gone out a few times and I decided he wasn’t that great. He was possessive and spiteful. He didn’t like that I was ending things. So he forced his blood into my mouth then snapped my neck and left.”

“I am so sorry, Y/N,” Elijah said somberly. He felt like he should have been there to stop it.

“Don’t be. It’s not your fault.”

“Like you said, maybe if I didn’t compel you to forget about-”

“Elijah...,” you sighed closing your eyes for a moment. “You’ll drive yourself crazy wondering about the what if’s.” Neither one of you spoke for a moment, but the silence wasn’t awkward like it was before.

“You’re a thousand years old, so I don’t know if you remember what it’s like when you first turn. Everything is loud and bright. It’s all too much. Thank goodness I had Melissa, or I would have been completely lost. But after I had blood and I completed the transition, my memories started to come back. The compulsion wore off and I was so confused. At first I remembered you compelling me, then everything came back like lightening. I was a wreak. I didn’t understand why you did it. A year of my life was back and I didn’t even realize it was missing.” 

Although you tried not to, your eyes began to glaze over with tears. Elijah wanted nothing more than to comfort you in that moment. But he knew he couldn’t, because although you said it wasn’t his fault, he knew it was. 

You let out a long breath trying to compose yourself. You refused to cry. “You hurt me, Elijah. And having my emotions heightened made things so much worse.”

“Y/N, I am so sorry for the pain that I caused you. My intention was only to protect you. People tend to get hurt around me and I thought I was doing the right thing.”

You reached up, placing your hand on Elijah’s cheek, stroking his face with your thumb. “Thank you,” you said sighing. “And I know you would never intentionally hurt me.”

“I wish I could go back and do things differently,” Elijah said somberly leaning into your hand. 

You pulled you hand away and placed it on your lap. “We can’t though. I’ve learned you can’t change the pass a long time ago.” The two of you were quiet again. Both of you lost in thought of what could have been. “So... whatever happened with your brother?”

Elijah ran his fingers through his hair, shaking his head. “I stopped seeking my revenge once he told me he still had our siblings' coffins. I had to work with him in order to get them back.”

“And did you get them back?”

“I did. Also, my brother Niklaus is here in New Orleans.”

“So you forgave him,” you asked shocked that his brother was still in his life.

“Our relationship is complicated. I want nothing more than for my brother to return to the man he used to be. To enjoy life. Not paranoid everyone and thing is against him.”

“That’s a lot for one person to take on. You can’t be solely responsible for your brother’s redemption.”

“I am not-”

“You are, Elijah. I don’t even know the full story and I can already tell your burdening yourself with this.”

“My brother is not a burden.”

You turned your head glaring at him. “Your brother told you he through your siblings into the ocean. You planned to get revenge, but he had them all along. Then even after you got your siblings back, you’re still around him. He sounds toxic.”

“I was not there for him when he needed me when we were human. I feel responsible for his pain.”

“You can’t keep living with this guilt,” you said placing your hand on his knee. “I wish you would have felt comfortable enough to tell me this when we were dating.”

“I didn’t want to concern you with my problems.”

“We were in a relationship. We were supposed to be able to confide in each other. I would have understood.” 

There was a brief pause before Elijah spoke up. “Like you said... we can’t change the past. There’s no use in rehashing what happened.”

You nodded agreeing with your ex. “You’re right.”

You and Elijah stared at each other for a moment. The silence wasn’t awkward. There was an understanding between the two of you now.  

Elijah broke the silence first. “I suppose I should get you back to your friends.”

You sighed, breaking eye contact, “Uh, yeah. I told them I would meet them at the hotel.”

“Which hotel are you staying at,” Elijah asked as he adjusted his suit so he was pristine again. “I’ll walk you.”

“I can walk myself back to my hotel, Elijah,” you said looking up at him. “I’m a big scary vampire now. I can take care of myself.”

“You’ve always been able to take care of yourself, Y/N,” he replied. A small smile graced his lips, but it was just enough to make your heart flutter. “I would just prefer to walk you to make sure you make it back safe.”

“Still the gentleman I see,” you said beginning to walk, Elijah stepping in time with you.

“For you? Always.” He held out his arm for you to take. You looked at him hesitantly, not wanting to confuse what was going on here. Then you wrapped your arm around his and he led you to your hotel.

After the run in with your ex, your friends and you decided you would spend the day sightseeing. Hopefully, you wouldn’t run into Elijah doing the cliché touristy attractions. You ended up running into a local vampire. He was cute, so your friends said you should keep him around. You didn’t have any problems with it. He was handsome and he knew the ends and outs of New Orleans. He even told you all about a party with a fresh blood supply you could crash the next night.

Elijah was lurking on the balcony when he saw you. You were dancing with two of your friends and... Marcel. Elijah set his bourbon down while he stared at you intently. It was bad enough you were at the party his brother insisted on throwing to make the local vampires happy, but you were with Marcel, too. 

“The party seems to be going well. The vampires are more than happy and it seems a new young vampire in town has caught your eye.”

“I am just keeping an eye on everyone. The last thing we need besides the witches plotting against us, are the vampires wreaking havoc as well.”

“If you say so...,” Klaus said lingering by the stairs before he went down to the party. “But your eyes haven’t left her since you noticed her. Lying does not become you, Elijah.”

Elijah watched you for a while longer. He watched as your friends left you and Marcel alone. It mad him furious. He waited until Marcel finally left your side before he came down stairs and approached you.

“Elijah, what are you doing here,” you asked surprised. You thought the last time you saw him was going to be it for your trip, but you should have known better.

“This is my home. My brother Klaus is throwing the party.”

“Right...,” you said sighing. This was just your luck.

“Here’s your drink, Y/N,” Marcel said coming from behind you with your glass in his hand.

“Elijah,” Marcel said acknowledging the Original in the room.

“Marcel,” Elijah greeted as he placed his hand in his pocket. 

“Of course you know each other,” you mumbled under your breath but you knew they both could hear you. 

“Marcellus is an old family friend,” Elijah replied. 

“Friend is being nice,” Marcel said more to Elijah than to you. “You know Elijah,” Marcel turned to you and asked.

“He’s my ex,” you huffed out.

“Ex,” Marcel repeated questioningly. 

“It was before I was a vampire, so it feels like a lifetime ago.”

“Marcel,” a new voice who you didn’t recognize said. “I see you’re having a good time. Made a new friend as well. Enjoying the party, love?”

“I was... and who might you be?”

Elijah spoke up before the stranger could answer. “This is my brother, Niklaus.”

“My brother is being too formal,” Niklaus said with an unsettling grin. “Call me Klaus.”

“So you’re the great Klaus Mikaelson I’ve heard so much about.” You looked at him up and down. “I pictured you taller.”

“It appears you have me at a disadvantage. You seem to know about me, yet I know nothing of you,” Klaus said curiously.

You glanced at Elijah before looking back at Klaus. “I guess your brother failed to mention his ex-girlfriend was in town. I’m Y/N,” you said reaching your hand out to Klaus.

Klaus gladly accepted your hand with a surprised look on his face as he shook. “Ex-girlfriend? Must have slipped my dear brother’s mind.”

“Must have,” you smirked.

“Well, now that we’ve all become acquainted, I should get Y/N back over to her friends,” Marcel said trying to end this whole awkward encounter.

“What’s the rush,” Klaus said a little to intrigued by the whole situation.

“Don’t you have some witches to go check on,” Elijah asked trying to get his brother’s attention else where.

“Now why would I do that when the entertainment is right here? Now, correct me if I’m wrong, but it seems, Y/N, right,” Klaus asked pointing to you and you squinted at him. “Y/N, came here with my former protégé with no knowledge that it was actually her old flame’s party they were attending.”

“Niklaus,” Elijah said tight lipped. 

“Now what are the odds of that happening? I for one, would love to hear more about the woman that captured my brother’s heart and the eye of my sire.”

“She is none of your concern, brother.”

Klaus raised his hands in mock surrender. “Fine by me. I know when I’m not wanted,” Klaus said smirking before he walked away.

“Y/N, I think it’s best that you-,” Elijah began to say but you cut him off.

“I don’t really care what you think is best for me, Elijah.” You shook your head completely over this night. “Marcel, can you please take me anywhere else in New Orleans that isn’t here?”

“I’d be delighted too,” Marcel said then held out his arm for you to take which you gladly did. 

The two of you found your friends then quickly left the party. A hurt Elijah left behind you.

It had been three months since your girls trip to New Orleans and you hadn’t stopped thinking of Elijah since. You hated it. You told your friends you wanted nothing to do with the original who erased your memories of him. 

Honestly, you were fine with Elijah before you ran into him. You never thought much of him. But now, he was constantly in the back of your mind like gum stuck on the bottom of your shoe. How was he doing? Was he thinking of you like you were of him? 

The overthinking wouldn’t stop. Which is why you were in New Orleans searching for Elijah. 

You were planning on going straight to the place you saw him last, his home, but your nerves got the best of you so you went to a bar for a drink first. The tequila stung the back of your throat as it went down, but it helped ease your anxiety, so you didn’t mind it.

“Long time no see,” a voice said from behind you. You turned around smiling at the familiar face.

“Marcel.”

“Y/N,” he said smiling that thousand watt smiled that you knew would pull any girl in a hundred mile radius. “I didn’t think I would be seeing you again.”

“I didn’t think I’d be back in New Orleans anytime soon,” you replied. You held up your empty glass to the bartender so she would refill it. Marcel sat down on the stool next to you.

“What brings you back?”

You sighed before taking a sip of your refreshed drink and Marcel immediately knew the answer. 

“Elijah?”

“Elijah,” you answered.

“From the way you were at the party, I didn’t think you wanted anything to do him.”

“I didn’t either.”

“So what happened,” Marcel asked curious.

You shook your head slowly trying to gather your thoughts. “He was in my head,” you said softly. “I missed him.”

“The Mikaelsons have a way of doing that to you,” Marcel replied not making eye contact with you.

You looked at him slightly confused before he spoke again. “Rebekah.”

“Oh yeah... Elijah did mention a sister. What happened with her?”

“Klaus,” Marcel answered, an annoyed tone to his voice.

“Ah, same boat I see. Elijah ended things with me because he thought Klaus would use me against him.”

“No man was good enough for Klaus Mikaelson’s little sister. Not even his own sire that he raised.”

“Damn.” 

“Yeah,” Marcel replied then held up his hand so the bartender would pour him his usual.

You sighed. “Well, maybe it’ll work out one day. We’re vampires. We’ve got the time.”

“Only if Klaus allows it,” Marcel said somberly as he watched the bartender fill his glass. 

“He’s bound to find someone for himself eventually and stop worrying about his siblings so much. We just gotta have hope,” you said patting him on the back. 

“Well, here’s to hope,” Marcel replied, holding his glass up to clink to yours.

After your run in with Marcel and some liquid ammunition, you finally made it to Elijah’s home. You went to the front door, but your least favorite Mikaelson answered. Which said a lot because you had only met two of them.

“Is Elijah here,” you asked looking behind Klaus. 

“He’s not, but I can entertain you until he arrives,” Klaus replied with a mischievous smirk on his face.

You grimaced making eye contact with the hybrid. “I think I’ll pass. Can you tell him I stopped by please?”

Klaus crossed his arms over his chest. “Now why should I do that, love? From what I was told, you left New Orleans months ago on bad terms with him. And before that, he compelled you to forget him. I’m not sure if my brother should be troubled with your return.”

You rolled your eyes as you sighed. “I’m not about to get into it with you, Niklaus,” you said putting too much emphasis on his name. His demeanor quickly changed to annoyance. “I’m positive all you know is that I’m Elijah’s ex and he’s told you nothing else about me. And I’m not about to through him under the bus, but you’re the reason why he compelled me to forget him. He thought once you found out about me, I would be in danger. So all this is your fault.”

“I would watch your tone if I were you,” Klaus said as he took a step closer to you. He was obviously trying to intimidate you.

“Look, I’m not here to start trouble between you and your brother. And I’m not trying to cause any stress in Elijah’s life. I just need him to know how I feel.” Your tone softened before you spoke the last part. “I care about him.”

Klaus huffed, holding eye contact with you. You obviously cared deeply about his brother if you were standing your ground with him. Or you were incredibly stupid. “I’ll let him know you stopped by,” Klaus said reluctantly. 

“Thank you,” you said.

You turned around and left the compound. You were so worried about what you would say to Elijah when you saw him, you didn’t consider what would happen if he wasn’t home. What would he think when Klaus told him you were in New Orleans? 

As you mind was running a mile a minute, you were turning the corner and bumped into a strong chest. 

“Oh my God, I’m so-,” you started to say until you looked up and saw the man you came all the way to New Orleans for. “Elijah, hi.”

“Good afternoon, Y/N,” Elijah said as poised as ever. It was like he wasn’t even surprised to see you.

“How’ve you been,” you asked fidgeting in your spot. 

“I’ve been well. And you?”

“I can’t complain,” you replied. You paused looking around. Why was this so awkward? “Um, do you think we could go somewhere and talk? Get a drink maybe?”

“Are you sure Marcel wouldn’t mind?”

“Marcel,” you repeated the name confused. “Why would Marcel care?”

“I assume you are in New Orleans for him,” Elijah said while he adjusted his suit, not making any eye contact with you. 

“What,” you asked completely baffled. “No, I came to New Orleans for you.”

Elijah’s eyes went wide looking back at you. “For me? Forgive me, but I saw you and Marcel earlier, so I assumed-”

You chuckled interrupting him. “You should know better than to assume anything, Elijah. I ran into Marcel at the bar when I was getting some liquid courage to come talk to you.”

Elijah titled his head to the side. “Why did you need courage to talk to me?”

“Uhh,” you began then started rubbing the back of your neck. “Because I needed to tell you how I felt.”

He took a small step towards you. “And how do you feel?”

You shuffled on your feet nervously looking into Elijah’s brown eyes as they bore into your own. “I missed you. I got the closure that I wanted, but then I realized I didn’t want closure... I wanted you.”

Elijah’s mouth opened slightly in surprise. You blinked waiting for him to say something, anything at all, but it didn’t come quick enough. You looked away, avoiding Elijah’s death stare. Your stomach turning every millisecond.

“Can you say something,” you asked quietly. 

“I’m sorry... I just-”

“God, I’m so stupid,” you interrupted him talking to yourself. “Just ignore me and pretend this didn’t happen,” you said to him and quickly turned on your feet to get as far away from Elijah and New Orleans as possible. 

Elijah grabbed your hand and pulled you back to face him. “Wait, Y/N, you didn’t let me finish.” 

You were only inches from Elijah’s face and on the verge of tears. Maybe you should have taken another shot to make this easier. 

“I was going to say,” Elijah continued as he let go of your hand and slowly placed it on your waist, “that I wasn’t expecting you to feel the same way.”

Your breath caught in your throat as you blinked up at him confused.

“I want you, too,” Elijah said with a small smile on his face. 

Your eyes grew as you felt a weight lift off your chest. You chuckled in disbelief. “You do,” you asked softly.

“More than anything,” Elijah said wrapping his other hand around your waist, pulling you against his chest.

Your chest filled with joy at his words. A big smile forming on your face. You placed your hands on his chest, the two of you moving in closer. Your lips were centimeters apart when you suddenly stepped back, pushing Elijah away. 

“Wait,” you said, Elijah looking down at you worried. “You have to promise me, you won’t do anything like that again. If things get hard or trouble is coming, and you think I can’t handle it, you come to me. Talk to me. You can’t make decisions about us without me being involved.”

Elijah’s brows knitted into a frown. “I will never do that again,” Elijah said seriously. He reached up and cupped your cheek into his hand. “You have my word.”

You nuzzled you face into his hand, looking up at him with doe eyes. “You have to say promise.”

Elijah chuckled, looking down at you lovingly. You missed having him look at you like that. “I promise.”

You stood up straight, taking your hand off his chest and held it out to him with your pinky sticking out. “Pinky promise.”

Elijah’s smile grew so wide, his eyes crinkled. The hand that was holding your face was now extended, his pinky hooking with yours. “Pinky promise.”

“Good,” you said relieved. You unhooked your pinkies and reached up, wrapping your hand around the back of Elijah’s neck, pulling him down for a kiss. 

Elijah was caught off guard for a moment at how quickly you moved, but your lips were on his and he easily returned your kiss. 

His lips were soft against yours but the kiss was rough. His breath was minty while yours had a hint of leftover tequila. Elijah’s hands tightened on your waist, trying to pull you closer even though it was impossible. He had lost you once, and he’d be damned if it happened again. 

[bonny-kookoo]

Jungkook

𝐄𝐯𝐨𝐜𝐚𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧: Warm Eyes

Every year, he joins the old tradition of traveling, where his ancestors have once ruled the skies. Every year, he meets familiar faces and new ones he's never seen before. Every year, he watches how his brothers find their mates, build their families, and introduce new generations to stories as old as time. But this year, something might be different. This year, there's you - a treasure worth more than he could ever offer.

Tags/Warnings: Dragon!Jungkook, strangers to lovers/mates, mentions of folklore and traditions, modern fantasy, romance, human?Reader, Fluff, Courting, MC kinda wary of kook at first, but he's cute give him a chance pls

Additional Chapter Warnings: fluff

Length: Short (because tumblr eats long drafts these days)

A/N: no one's asking for drabbles so I'll make my own and force feed you until you'll like this AU

-> Masterlist

⋅ ⋅ ── ⋅ ⋅ ── ⋅ ⋅ ── ⋅ ⋅ ── ⋅ ⋅ ── ⋅ ⋅ ── ⋅ ⋅ ── ⋅ ⋅ ── ⋅ ⋅

Every year, you look forward to this festival time.

Not because you're very social, but more so, because it's a time where you can finally act the way your inner dragonblood wants you to, without being judged for it. Just like right now, as you're lying on your back in the woods, wind occasionally blowing through the tall tree crowns above, birds filling the silence while the small stream of water nearby adds to the scenery around you. It's what you crave the entire year around- this moment of absolute comfort, simply existing without the pressure to make the most out of your time.

You can hear footsteps at some point, and as the wind turns, you immediately catch the scent of the one dragonkin currently trying to win you over in the span of time you're both spending here for the festival. "Is this your attempt at hunting me down?" You giggle to yourself, though you do snap up into a halfway sitting position when he's suddenly speaking right into your ear.

"I wasn't even remotely trying." He chuckles, especially at your clear look of shock for a second.

"…whatever." You mumble, sitting up next to him now, legs pulled close as you watch him sit down properly next to you as well. "Do they need me at camp?" You ask, but he shakes his head.

"No, I was just wondering where you were when I couldn't find you at breakfast this morning." He shrugs. "So I went out to find you."

"Stalking me now then?" You glare at him, and he laughs.

"I'd call it 'making sure my potential future mate is okay' but, you can call it whatever you want." The dragonkin smiles, catching you off guard yet again as you hide a little so he won't see you flush in shyness, before simply laying back down onto your blanket. And by peeking through your eyes after a short while of silence, you can see him still sitting right next to you- hands resting in the grass, arms holding up his body as he calmly watches his surroundings ahead, wind sometimes blowing his curls around. You watch how he has to move them out of his face every now and then, and can't help but snicker a bit to yourself at the sight.

And he just smiles as well, as he watches you sit up.

"Turn around." You tell him softly, and much to your surprise, he easily does just as told without even so much as asking to why you'd request that from hjm. It shows how much he already puts his trust in you, even if it's just small things like this.

You've never actually touched Jungkook up until this point. Not really, at least. His hair is thick but surprisingly soft as you collect parts of it hands careful at not tying it too tightly to hurt- only to somewhat help with it falling into his eyes all the time. "Thanks." He smiles as he turns back around. "It's never been so long before.. so I still forget a hairtie from time to time." He chats, and you shrug, as you lie back down, though now on your side to better look at him.

"That's fine." You shrug. "I always have one on me." You tell him- and the implication of it makes him unable to hide his grin, considering he's been noticing those small steps towards him from time to time now. You're slowly starting to show your interest in him, step by step involving yourself more and more into the whole process of getting to know him better it seems like.

And its fueling his determination.

"Did you plan on taking a nap out here?" He asks, and you nod, before you scoot a bit on your blanket, making room for him. It's a silent invitation to something much more than just for him to lay down next to you.

There's a saying amongst dragons, that those who fall asleep together will meet in dreams as well. And dreams of dragons all hold meaning- though most of those things have been somewhat lost to time at this point.

Jungkook seems to have trouble though, the small ponytail you'd tied of his hair pressing into the back of his head uncomfortably. "Just take it out if it bothers you." You giggle, watching him struggle.

"But.. you did it." He almost whines. "I don't want to take it out."

"I can tie it up again later." You roll your eyes, pulling the hairtie out of his hair. "Just remind me, and I'll do it again."

"Whenever I like?" He asks, cheekily hopeful as he looks at you next to him.

"Hm, sure." You shrug, before you close your eyes, and boldly turn to your side, hand on his chest as if to be connected to him in your sleep.

And so he holds your hand over his chest in his own during his sleep as well, as you both meet in dreams where you fly above the clouds.

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

[do-it-jakey-baby]

An Unlikely Encounter

Jake Kiszka x f!reader

Warnings: implied physical assault, alcohol consumption, allusions to smoking weed, explicit sexual content, jealousy, praise kink, dominant Jake

18+, MINORS DNI

TAGLIST: @torniturntomyarrow @ignite-my-fire

A/N: I’m so sorry, I wrote this in my drafts and can’t seem to figure out the word count now… but I hope you all enjoy!

Chapter 4

You woke up screaming from the horrendous dream you’d just had, but the panic subdued quickly as you felt Kat’s arms around you.

“Hey, hey. Shhh… it’s ok. I’m here. I’m here.” She whispers softly, smoothing your hair gently with her fingertips. You begin to sob and she squeezes you tightly.

“Do you think you can tell me what happened last night now?”

You prop yourself up onto your elbows and lean against the headboard, cheeks puffy and tear-stained. Kat passes you a tissue and you loudly blow your nose into it.

“I guess…” you trail off. Kat places her hand on your thigh and looks at you, her face a picture of pure empathy. You honestly don’t know what you’d do without her.

“I thought you’d forgotten your key, like you always do. So I opened the door not even bothering to check through the peep hole. Connor was there.”

“That son of a bitch!! I’m gunna kill him!” She spits, eyes filled with fury.

“He was wasted Kat, fucking stank. He started saying some really vile things about me and Jake. When I tried to shut the door he lunged at me. If those men hadn’t been walking past I dread to think what would have happened.” Fresh tears spill from your eyes at the recollection.

Kat whips her phone from the bedside table and begins searching for Connor’s number, but you put your hand up in protest. “Please, no. I want to forget he exists.”

She frowns, but ultimately respects your wishes. “Ok, but if I see that waste of space, good for nothing mother fucker EVER again, I’ll rip his fucking head from his torso.”

Her brutality elicits a small giggle from your lips and she immediately softens her scowl, laughing along with you.

“What was your dream about?”

You sigh. “I dreamt that Connor got hold of me, and he hurt me really bad. Jake came back, but he saw me lying there beaten black and blue and just walked away. I screamed for him, but he kept walking.” Tears welled in your eyes again, threatening to escape and roll down onto your cheeks.

“Y/N, he would never. If he saw what happened, I don’t think Connor would be able to walk again… Jake cares about you.”

“I just don’t understand why, I’m a nobody. He could have any girl he wanted. I’m so damaged, I find it hard to let people in.” You grimace, picking at the skin around your nails.

“Because you’re a fucking worldie, babe.” Kat grabs your shoulders and looks you straight in the eye. “I wouldn’t be best friends with you if you weren’t special, you twat.”

~

The weeks went by quickly as you busied yourself helping Kat with her work, you’d even found time to record a few covers that you’d been meaning to do for a while. You loved to sing, but your ex couldn’t stand it. He always complained about the noise disturbing him. Slowly over the course of your relationship, your confidence dwindled to almost zero. You no longer found comfort in performing, only singing along to songs in the shower or as you worked. You had promised yourself that you’d get back into it when your relationship ended, so you sat there in Kat’s flat, fiddling with your mic and connecting it to the interface. It had been a while since you’d done this, so you played around with the settings on your software and took the time to familiarise. Once you were happy, you adjusted your headphones began to sing into the mic, a rush of euphoria hitting you as you perfected each vocal run. You’d settled on ‘Dreams’ by Fleetwood Mac, something you could easily grasp for your first song back. You made sure to record yourself with your phone whilst you were singing, so that you could add the audio to the clip. When you’d finished and were satisfied with how it sounded, you saved the clip and sent it to Kat.

Guess who’s finally back?

A few moments later, your phone pinged. OMFG, Y/N! You’re insane!! Post this, now.

You chuckled, shaking your head. Not just yet…

You packed your equipment away and wandered into the kitchen to make a snack. You swung the doors of the fridge open, spotting a rosy, red apple. You sliced it into segments and put them into a bowl, then cut up some mature cheddar cheese into cubes and popped them alongside. As you settled down onto the sofa and flipped the TV on, your phone pinged again. This time, it was Jake.

How is my gorgeous girl today? I am so excited to see you this weekend.

You instantly smile to yourself. Hey, Jakey. Really good thanks, had a productive day. How are you? I’m so excited to see you too.

A few seconds after you press send your phone screen lights up with a FaceTime call.

“I never get tired of seeing that face.” He beams. “What have you been up to that’s so productive?”

“Oh, you know, just helping Kat out with her admin and stuff.” You didn’t want to tell Jake that you sang, not wanting to draw attention to that part of your life.

“Nice, well we’re heading to the arena soon.”

“You’re in Denmark now, right?”

“Yeah, it’s beautiful here in Copenhagen. I’d love to take you sometime.”

You and Jake speak for the best part of an hour, about the tour so far, and where he’d take you when he had the chance. He learnt about the places of the world you’d been to and where you aspired to go.

“I’d love to visit the States. I’ve never been.”

“I’m sure I could show you one day.” He spoke with such a genuine smile, which made you feel like he really enjoyed your conversations. His eyes sparkled as you bared your soul to him, his heart growing fonder with each revelation.

“Come on man, we’re late!” You hear Josh’s voice boom from the screen. “Hello, Songbird.” Josh directs to you. “How is my favourite girl?”

Jake’s face visibly changes, his brows knitting together. You and Josh had formed quite a solid friendship over the last week, you almost spoke to him as much as Jake. He even called you a few times, once whilst your favourite Fleetwood Mac song was playing. You softly hummed along to “Songbird” whilst you listened to Josh talk, and ever since that’s been his pet name for you.

“Hi bestie, I’m good thanks.” You giggle.

“Fantastic! We miss you” He looks away and points at Jake “Dude, we’re leaving! Now! Bye, Songbird, I’ll call you later after the show?”

“Sure thing, Josh. Break a leg!” You respond. Jake looks back at the camera, his face still crumpled.

“I’ll talk to you later, bye beautiful.”

~

A few days later you were rushing around Kat’s flat, throwing clothes and toiletries between you.

“You have to wear this to the show, you’ll look so hot!” Kat winks, chucking a garment at you.

You pick up the white leather mini dress and hold it up to your chest. It’s strapless and skin tight, adorned with small, silver sequins and tassels hanging delicately across the hemline.

“Kat, this is STUNNING! I can’t wear this, I’d be too scared that I’d ruin it!”

“Well, tough shit. I made it for you.”

Your mouth falls open. “Katrina Chiara Romano, is that why you’ve been spending so much time in your workshop?!”

“What? I had to make sure my bestie looked fire when she watches her boyfriend play live.”

“He’s not my boyfriend!” You smack her arm playfully. “Thank you so much, you sly dog!”

Once you’ve both packed, you haul your suitcases outside and into the taxi. As you settle into the car and the driver moves off, Kat grabs onto your hand and squeezes it. You both squeal in unison, both incredibly excited for what lies ahead. You make it to the airport and the whole process goes smoothly, which is never usually the case with you and airports. You hate flying, but the excitement bubbling in your chest takes your mind completely off the journey. You both board the plane and you run down the aisle to nab the window seat. Kat sits down next to you and you immediately pull your phone out to snap a selfie.

“Say, Greta Van Fleet!” You cheer, throwing up a peace sign and pouting.

When you land in Portugal, the temperature is a far cry from the frigid London air you’ve been used to. Even though it was Winter, the climate was balmy and you’re glad you didn’t pack all woolly jumpers and scarves. You and Kat retrieve your bags and walk through to collections, both of you scanning the open space for any sign of the boys. A wolf whistle pierces through the silence which makes you both jump, you follow the sound and your eyes land on a huge cardboard sign that reads “Greta’s Groupies”. You both run over to the boys with open arms, Sam swiftly enveloping Kat in a tight embrace. Josh darts out ahead of Jake and scoops you up in his arms, twirling you around as you shriek with laughter.

“Songbird!” He trills.

“Joshua! I’ve missed you so much.” You smile, then look over his shoulder and yell “I’ve missed you all! Yes, even you Sammy!”

Josh puts you down and Jake is at your side instantly, taking you in his arms and pressing a kiss to your lips.

“Hello, beautiful.” He smiles.

“Hi, Jakey.” You breathe, your head spinning with emotion.

The reunion continues with the boys handing out warm hugs to both you and Kat, rejoicing in your company. Sam takes Kat’s suitcase from her and begins to wheel it towards the door, signalling that it’s time to get going to the hotel. You turn to grab the handle of your suitcase and notice that it’s no longer behind you.

“Hey, where’s my suitcase?”

“I’ve got it, Songbird.” Josh smiles. Jake walks to his brother and reaches his hand out, which causes Josh to raise his eyebrow.

“Dude, I’ve got it. It’s fine.” Josh mutters.

“No. I’ll take it.” Jake pushes Josh’s hand, snatching the suitcase from his grip. You frown, confused at the situation. Josh mirrors your confusion, but shakes it off with a laugh and extends his arm out for you to take.

“Shall we?”

You all pile into the back of a limousine, which is far fancier than you expected.

“Guys, was this necessary? A limo? Come on.” You giggle.

“Only the best for our girls.” Josh winks, playfully elbowing you. Jake audibly huffs.

“Hey, man. What’s up with you?” Danny probes.

Jake shakes his head “Just tired, I guess.” You extend your arm out and squeeze his knee, provoking a small smile.

~

Once you’ve unpacked in your hotel room and have freshened up from your journey, you make your way along the hall to find the others. You’re not sure why you’ve been given your own room, you assumed that you’d be staying with Jake for the duration of the trip. As you reach Jake’s door and go to knock you hear raised voices from inside.

“What the fuck is your problem, Jake?”

“My problem is that you’re getting really fucking cosy with her, Josh. What are you doing? You know I like her and you know she likes me!”

“Will you get your head out of your ass!”

“You always do this! Why can’t you just let me have the limelight for once?”

“I’m sick of your attitude, she’s a friend, Jake! A friend of mine, a friend of yours, a friend of Danny’s, a friend of Sam’s. Stop it with the jealousy!”

“She’s not just a friend to me and you know that!”

You bolt out of the way quickly as you hear footsteps approaching and hide around the corner, not wanting them to know you’d heard their conversation. Jake slams the door shut and storms down the hall, thankfully not noticing you. You gingerly approach the door and knock. Within a few seconds, Josh answers.

“Hey, sorry, Jake isn’t here.” He rubs his hand across his face, smoothing his facial hair downwards.

“Are you ok?”

“Yeah, do you want to come in?”

You follow him inside and sit down on the sofa. The room is big, with a sizeable bar section. Josh walks over and points at the plethora of liquor.

“You want? I’m having one, so it’s only fair that you join me.”

“Sure, whatever’s best.” You smile. Josh busies himself making your drink and you look around the room. You spot several crumpled up pieces of paper on the desk, but your eyes are averted away by Josh placing a glass in front of you. He sits down beside you and takes a long sip from his glass.

“How was your flight, Songbird?”

“It was fine actually. I’m not the best flier, but I was so excited that I completely forgot I was in the air.”

“I used to hate flying, but when you’re on tour as often as we are you get accustomed to it pretty quickly.”

You smile at him, your gaze falling to your hands as you pick at your fingernails. “Where’s Jake?”

Josh looks like he isn’t sure what to say, he bites his lip and begins to speak but he’s cut off by the door swinging open.

“Hey, man. Look, I’ve had a breather and I think I-” Jake pauses as he spots you both sitting there. “What the fuck is this?” His eyes dart between you and the glasses on the table.

“She came looking for you and I invited her in to wait.” Josh stands, brushing his hands across his slacks. “I’ll leave you to it, need to get ready anyway.” He pushes past Jake and disappears through the door. You look up at Jake, titling your head. He immediately softens and comes to sit next to you, as he brushes past your legs you’re hit with the overwhelming scent of weed.

“Have you been smoking?”

“Yeah, needed something to take the edge off.” He stifles a laugh, then clears his throat.

“What is up with you two today?”

“Nothing. Why, what did he say?” Jake straightens, clearly uncomfortable.

“He didn’t say anything, it’s just obvious there’s some kind of… tension.”

Jake sighs and runs his hands through his hair “There’s nothing wrong, beautiful. Just pre-show nerves, gets to us sometimes is all.” He pats your knee. You know he’s lying, but you can’t let on that you heard their argument earlier, so you place your hand on top of his.

“You don’t have anything to be nervous about, I’ve seen you all play countless times and you fucking own that stage.”

His eyes turn dark, as if your praise has washed away any memory of his current feelings. He brings his hands to your face and pulls you to meet his lips. You accept his advances hungrily, allowing his tongue to lap against yours. He moves his hands to your waist and pulls you on top of him so you’re straddling his hips. As he manoeuvres you, you make slight contact with his belt and can’t stop the moan that escapes your lips at the friction.

“Don’t you praise me and then make those noises, I’ll have to cancel the show so I can fuck you into my mattress.” He breathes against the shell of your ear.

You inhale deeply, suddenly extremely turned on. It’s been weeks since you last had any contact with Jake, and you’re already wet just thinking about the dirty, awful things that you’ll both do together later.

“You can’t cancel the show, as much as I want you inside of me right now.”

Jake groans, pulling you into him harder. You gasp, your fingers digging into his shoulders.

“Jake, don’t start something you can’t finish.” You whine, your chest heaving with arousal.

“Oh, I’ll fucking finish you later, sweetheart. I’ll show you just how much I missed you.”

~

The boys were ushered off for soundcheck and that left you and Kat to get ready. You both did your hair and makeup, sharing a bottle of pinot noir between you.

“You look fucking hot, Y/N.”

“Says you, Sam’s eyes will pop out of his head!” You giggle. Kat was wearing a black lacy corset that cinched her tiny waist, enhancing her curves. She paired the corset with a pair of silky high waisted electric blue trousers which contrasted her auburn hair perfectly. She zipped up your dress and handed you a deep burgundy lipstick.

“This will finish the look.”

You swipe it on and look at yourself in the mirror. You do look good…

“Time to go!” You grab her hand and squeal. The two of you make your way over to the arena, your VIP passes swinging around your necks as you canter along. The security guard at the door checks your passes and gives you the all clear, and another member of the security crew escorts you backstage. Sam is the first to notice you both, bobbing his head with his mouth agape.

“Well, aren’t you two a sight for sore eyes! Two fallen angels!” He hollers, wrapping an arm around you both.

“You don’t look too bad yourself, Kiszka.” Kat winks.

Josh rounds the corner and theatrically falls to his knees, placing the back of his hand on his forehead.

“Be still my beating heart. You are exquisite, my darlings.”

He’s wearing one of his famous jumpsuits, with his chest exposed. Rhinestones adorn his cheeks, sparkling in the light with every movement. He’s so beautiful that it takes your breath away.

“Joshua Kiszka, look at you. Prettier than a picture.” You giggle, opening your arms out to him. Just then, Jake and Danny appear.

“Lauren, Kat, you both look stunning!” Danny beams.

“You look fucking hot, Danny.” Kat raises her eyebrows, smirking.

“Well, thank you. I’m blushing.” Danny playfully covers his face with his hands.

You meet Jake’s eyes, he’s looking you up and down like he would devour you right now in front of everyone if he could. He’s wearing his signature black suit, the jacket open and showing his tanned chest and silver chains. He beckons you over with a curl of his finger. You excuse yourself and walk over, and his hands find your hips instantly. He pulls you close and whispers into your ear “You look fucking beautiful, that dress… I can’t wait to take it off you later.”

“Sorry to cut this short, but we need to head backstage. Brian will take you to your seats.” Josh points across to the crew member. “See you on the other side!”

You and Kat wish them good luck and follow Brian out into the arena to your seats. They are by far the closest you’ve ever been to the stage, right opposite the walkway that you know Josh and Jake will both use during the show. It was so odd being here on this side, with a view of the space that would be filled with thousands of screaming fans. You were once one of them, and you’d been swept up so quickly on this journey that you hadn’t had time to process it yet. You sat, expressionless, staring into the void whilst your mind whirred with endless thoughts. Kat notices and snaps her fingers in front of your face.

“You good?”

“Yeah, just thinking about how crazy this all is. A few weeks ago they had no idea who I was, now we’re like… besties.” You laugh.

“I honestly have no idea how you pulled this off, but I’m glad you did. You’ve been happier than I’ve seen you in years, and that’s all I care about. It’s been shit watching the life be sucked out of you, you have your glow back now.” She smiles, wrapping her arms around you.

“What would I do without you?”

“Fucked if I know!” She giggles.

The arena begins to fill up and you watch the fans sprinting towards the barricade. It feels like just yesterday that was you. After around 30 minutes, the opening act appears on stage and starts their set. You sway along, enjoying their vibe. It’s the same band that opened in London, but this time you were able to remain focused and listen to how talented they were. A part of you felt a spark of envy, this was something you’d always wanted to do yourself but never had the confidence to pursue. A few songs in you feel a tap on your shoulder. It’s Brian.

“Miss Y/N, I’ve been requested to bring you back stage for a moment.”

You look to Kat. “Will you be ok for a minute?”.

She nods and ushers you towards Brian. You follow him down the steps and backstage. He leads you down the corridor and into a dressing room, where Jake is sitting. He stands as you enter.

“And what exactly do you want with me then, sir?” You smirk.

“I wanted to see you one more time before we go on.” He grabs hold of your hands and pulls you into him, his hands snaking around your waist. “You’re my good luck charm.”

“Is that so? I don’t think you need a good luck charm.”

His hands find their way to your face and he cradles it, then sweeps his fingers into your hair as he kisses you softly. You mirror his actions and entangle your hands into his chestnut locks, kissing him deeper. He gasps into your mouth and you feel his cock harden against your hips.

“Someone’s gagging for it.” You tease. He whips you around so your back is to him. With one hand on your throat, the other slips in between your legs. Your breath hitches in your throat as his fingers dance over your clothed clit.

“Keep teasing, sweetheart. You’ll be sorry later.”

The door swings open and you swiftly part, both looking sheepishly at Josh who has burst into the room. His face glows red and he averts his eyes.

“Uhhh, sorry… Thought you were alone. We need to head to the stage.”

Your hands fly up to your mouth as you attempt to muffle the laughter spilling from you. “Sorry, Josh. I’ll get back to my seat. You guys are gunna do great! See you after, my rockstars!”

~

The show is absolutely phenomenal. Just like you predicted, both Jake and Josh make full use of the walkway in front of you, strutting down it like they own the place. They steal the spotlight in their own special ways. Josh is flamboyant and eccentric in his movements and seems to glide across the stage, oozing charisma and charm. Jake, on the other hand, is just animalistic. The way he throws his head back and grinds into his guitar is quite frankly obscene, but you and every other girl in the room are completely mesmerised by it. If his mission was to arouse his fans, he was certainly fulfilling it. The way he locked eyes with some of the fans had you feeling a pang of jealousy, which you tried to keep buried deep down. It wasn’t until you saw him lean over the barricade to whisper into a fan’s ear that the jealously abruptly bubbled over. You saw red, balling your fists beside you until your knuckles were white.

“Hey, you ok?” Kat reaches down and puts her hand over your fist, and you immediately relax them.

“I don’t know what came over me, sorry.”

“Is it seeing Jake with those girls?”

“Yeah, but I’m being stupid. I’m not his girlfriend…”

“He’s sure treating you like you are.”

The night plays on and you witness a few more of these encounters between Jake and his female fans. Each time you feel your temper boil over, until you’ve finally had enough when you see him hand a pick to a pretty blonde. Luckily for you, the show is ending and they are finishing up their encore. You propel yourself from your seat and don’t even think about Kat as you storm down the steps. The band is making their way off stage as you round the corner. Jake calls out your name but you ignore him and keep walking down the corridor. You find the dressing room with Josh’s name on it and let yourself in, collapsing onto the sofa with a thud. A few moments later Josh appears.

“There you are, Jake was going out of his mind. I’ll go and-”

“No. I came in here on purpose. I don’t want to see him.”

Josh frowns and sits down next to you. “What’s happened, Songbird?”

“He’s been practically throwing himself at the girls in the crowd all night.” You huff, crossing your arms over your chest. Josh places his hand on your thigh.

“I really don’t think that changes how he feels about you, it’s just for show.”

“It might not, but it’s still pissed me off. The worst part is, I don’t even have the right to be upset with him. I’m not his girlfriend, I don’t even know what this thing is between us. But he brought me here, and I thought…” you trail off, tears glistening in your eyes.

“Hey, he’d be a fucking fool to lose you, Songbird. Please don’t let it ruin your time here, and anyway, you have me.” He tilts your chin up to look at him and flashes you his signature toothy grin. You throw your arms around him and squeeze him tight. “God, I love you, Josh.”

“And I love you, Songbird. Come on, pick yourself up, we’re going out to celebrate.”

The whole ride to the bar you avoid eye contact with Jake, though he doesn’t stop trying to get your attention. As you’re mid conversation with Sam, Danny and Kat, you spot Jake and Josh having a hushed but heated conversation out of the corner of your eye. You just about make out Josh tell Jake to “not fuck it up, because Y/N is an angel walking the earth”. Your heart melts at the way he is standing up for you.

You’re the first to exit the cab and enter the bustling bar. There’s a live band playing and there are many people up dancing along to the rhythm. You walk over to the bar and immediately order a tequila soda, but as you go to pay Jake’s hand appears in front of you and hands the bartender a note.

“I said everything would be taken care of.”

You remain cold, not acknowledging his existence. You bring the straw of you drink to your lips and take a long sip, feeling the burn of the tequila slip down your throat.

“You gunna give me the cold-shoulder all evening?”

“I haven’t decided yet.” You respond, still not meeting his eye.

“Y/N. Look at me.” You ignore his request, taking another sip from your drink. His hand shoots out and grabs your chin, manoeuvring it so that you’re facing him.

“Talk to me.”

You shake your head. “I think I’m gunna go and dance.”

You remove the straw from your drink and down the rest, slamming the glass onto the bar and push past Jake to make your way to the dance floor. You find the rest of the guys there already, dancing along with Kat. You join in, shaking your hips to the rhythm and eliciting a wolf whistle from Sam.

“Damn, girl. You’ve got moves!”

With the tequila now in your system, your inhibitions are significantly lower. Your hand finds Josh’s and you tug on it until he’s face to face with you.

“Dance with me, pretty boy.”

He laughs and spins you around, then dips you down low. Your hands loop around his neck and his find your waist as your bodies move together to the music. You both shriek with laughter as you grind up against each other. You throw your hands up and slowly sway your hips side to side as you sink down onto your knees and back up again. Josh watches you, licking his lips. It’s clear he’s also under the influence, as usually it’s a lot more PG between the two of you. His hands find your waist again and he pulls you closer this time, his eyes darting between your eyes and lips. Suddenly, as if you both simultaneously realise what’s happening, you part. Josh rubs the back of his neck sheepishly.

“I’m- I’m gunna go to the bathroom.” You mutter before exiting the dance floor. You hastily locate the single unisex stall and shut the door behind you. You lean against the sink and inhale deeply. What the fuck are you doing?

As you’re gathering yourself, the door swings open. Shit, you forgot to lock it. You spin around to find Jake standing there, nostrils flared.

“You wanna tell me what the fuck that was?”

“Jake, I’m-”

“My brother, Y/N?! I knew something was going on between you two!”

Suddenly you see red. “I beg your fucking pardon, Jake? There’s nothing between me and Josh! He’s my friend! And anyway, what about you and your fucking bimbo in the crowd?!” You spit.

He looks taken aback, not expecting that response from you, but quickly reverts back to anger.

“Is that what this is about? That’s nothing! I was being nice to my fans, Y/N. That’s all that was. God you sound just like her.” Before he’s finished speaking he already regrets the words that have fallen from his mouth. His eyes widen and he rubs his temples viciously.

“I sound like who?” You glare.

“Forget it. I’m sorry.”

“I’m not letting that go, fucking speak up.”

He sighs “My ex-girlfriend. I swore off dating when we ended things. She got so jealous of the life I lead, even though she knew what she was signing up for. I loved her, and she broke my heart. When I saw you with Josh, I thought history was repeating itself.”

“Her… and Josh?”

“No, it’s not like that. She tried it. Tried it with each of the guys. They didn’t do anything, so she just fucked the first person she could find instead. She did it all to get back at me, she thought I was sleeping with my fans. That’s not something I do, and not something I ever intended to do… until you. There’s something different about you, and although it scared me because of how badly my heart was broken, I couldn’t let you walk away.”

Your face falls. You’d been so stupid, thinking he’d drop you for the next girl that looked his way.

“Jake, I’m so sorry. I would never do that, I’m sorry that I got too close with Josh. That was never my intention. Maybe I wanted you to feel a bit jealous, but I would never ever cross that line. It was just harmless fun, or so I thought.”

“I really like you, Y/N. I wouldn’t have brought you here if I didn’t. I think… I think I’m falling for you and I can’t stop.” He closes the gap between you and caresses your cheek, his lips ghosting over yours.

“I think I am too.” You latch onto his shirt and pull him into you, your mouth melting into his. It feels like time slows to a stop, your lips on his and the way he’s holding you is all that matters. He’s like a shining beacon of light in a pitch black room. You break away at the sound of a knock at the bathroom door. A voice from the other side is speaking in Portuguese, a customer clearly needing to use the room for its intended purposes. As you exit the bathroom, the customer mutters under their breath. You don’t speak a lick of Portuguese but you’re certain they are complaining about the two of you being in there together. Jake walks ahead of you and re-joins the group who are now situated in a booth.

“Y/N and I are going to head back to the hotel, she’s not feeling too good.”

You begin to protest, but Jake flashes you a look. “Yeah, sorry guys. I hope you have fun.”

Josh shoots you an apologetic half-smile and you mouth don’t worry at him, then you bid your goodbyes and follow Jake out the door.

When you arrive at the hotel you expect Jake to split from you and go towards his room, but he walks behind you as you enter your room.

“I guess you’re coming in here then?”

His demeanour shifts as soon as the door is shut.

“Get on the fucking bed.”

You freeze, unsure of the change in atmosphere.

“I said, get on the fucking bed. Don’t make me ask again”

Your body goes into autopilot at the low boom of his voice, dripping in authority. You position yourself at the head of the bed.

“You’ve been a fucking brat tonight. Do you know what happens to brats?”

You shake your head, suddenly feeling like a deer in headlights.

“They get punished.”

Your breath hitches in your throat, his dominance causing a gush of arousal to pool inside of you.

“Turn around.” He barks.

You obey his command and he begins unzipping your dress, exposing your bare chest and thong. He twirls his index finger, signalling you to turn back around, then uses the palm of his hand pressed between your breasts to guide you back. He pinches your nipple between his finger and thumb, then rolls it slowly. You hiss at the sensation. He takes your nipple into his mouth and swirls his tongue around the hardened bud. Your back arches off the bed, it’s been weeks since you’ve felt him touch you like this and you need him like your lungs need air. With your nipple still in his mouth, he slinks his hand between your legs and begins to rub agonisingly slow circles over your pussy.

“So wet already, and I’ve only just begun.”

He releases your nipple with a pop and removes your thong. He pushes your legs apart so that you’re spread wide for him, then runs his fingers through your folds. Your hips buck up, so he uses his free hand to anchor your hips down. He dips his finger into your entrance and curls it up into your g-spot. You whine needily.

“More, Jake, please.”

“Uh uh, only good girls get to beg for more. You haven’t been a good girl, have you Songbird?” The use of Josh’s pet name for you in such a filthy way makes your eyes roll back into your head. He stops and withdraws his fingers from you, and you let out another whine.

“Answer me.”

“No, I haven’t been a good girl. I’m sorry Jakey.”

“Apologies won’t work on me tonight.”

He pushes his fingers back into you and begins to circle his tongue around your clit, picking up the speed until all you can hear is the sound of his fingers driving into your dripping cunt.

“Jake, I’m gunna cum.”

As you reach your peak and begin to pulse around him, he stops and sits up to watch the mess he’s created with the biggest, shit-eating grin on his face.

“Jakeeeeee!” You squeal. “Please, please. Let me cum!” Tears are forming in your eyes and you feel ridiculous.

“Cry all you want, princess. This is your punishment.”

“Please, I’ll be so good for you. Jakey, please.”

“You wanna be a good girl for me now then, hm?”

“Yes, I promise. I’ll be good.”

He stands and unbuckles his belt, letting it drop to the floor. He unzips his pants and removes them, along with his boxers. “Better put that smart mouth to good use then.”

You immediately drop to your knees in front of him and he sighs.

“Aren’t you a pretty picture, down there on your knees for me?”

You open up your mouth and swallow him whole, eliciting a moan from his lips.

“Fuck, baby girl.” He whispers through gritted teeth as you bob your head back and forth, taking his entire length into your throat. You want to give him your best, to prove to him that you’re willing to be good. His hand finds the back of your head and he grips onto your hair as you take him into your mouth. You can feel your eyes watering but you keep going, pushing through. Seeing his face contort with pleasure has you dripping down your thighs. You can feel he’s close when his cock begins to twitch in your mouth, so you quicken your pace, flattening your tongue and letting it slip along his length.

“Baby, I’m gunna cum.”

You rake your nails down the back of his thighs and he groans, his hips sputtering as he paints the back of your throat with ropes of his cum. You swallow it down and lick your lips, then rise to your knees and pull him into you. You kiss him and lap your tongue against his.

“You taste so good, don’t you baby?”

He grunts and guides you over to the bed, motioning for you to get on all fours. He pulls his shirt off and moves behind you, slipping his fingers inside of you.

“So fucking wet.”

He uses your slick to lube himself up and then pushes his cock inside you until he’s bottomed out. He thrusts into you at a delicious pace, his hand snaking around your hip to play with your clit.

“I wanna try something, just let me know if you are uncomfortable at any point.”

“Ok, I will.”

He brings his hand back around and sucks on his fingers, collecting his spit and then begins to rub circles around your back entrance. You jolt slightly, not expecting the sensation.

“Is that ok?” He asks.

“Yeah, I’ve just never done this before. But I’m willing to try.”

He massages into you and then leans in and lets his saliva drip from his tongue onto you, then pushes a finger gently inside. It stings at first, but once you get used to the feeling you enter a new realm of arousal.

“Holy fuck” you breathe. “More.”

“Are you sure baby?”

“Yes, more. Fuck me harder too, please.”

He gently inserts another finger into you and picks up his pace, thrusting deeper. You let out a string of moans and curses, rocking backwards to meet his thrusts. He curls his fingers up inside you and you feel the white hot coil in your stomach tighten, threatening to unravel.

“Fuck, fuck. Jake that feels so fucking good.”

He drives into you faster, flicking his fingers up with every snap of his hips. Your whole body is trembling with pleasure, you didn’t think it was even possible to feel this level of ecstasy after your initial experiences with Jake. It felt so dirty and wrong, yet so right at the same time.

“Jake, I’m gunna cum!” You barely make out the words before you’re plunging into the most intense orgasm you’ve ever had. The dam inside you bursts and you gush around his cock, soaking everything in sight. As he pulls out of you, you hear him moan and he cums for the second time. You collapse onto your chest, still riding out your high. You lay there, chest heaving as you catch your breath. Jake sits on the bed next to you and brushes your hair from your face.

“That was… fucking amazing. I didn’t think you could make me cum any harder but, fuck.” You giggle hazily.

“You drive me crazy, Songbird.” Jake chuckles back. He tilts his head to the side and smiles softly.

“Shower?”

You prop yourself up and grin back at him.

“You know me so well.”

[hermitknut]

20 Questions for Fic Writers Tag Game

@birdylion tagged me :D

1. how many works do you have on AO3?

56.

2. what’s your total AO3 word count?

440,219

3. what fandoms do you write for?

There've been quite a few over the years. Currently Goblin Emperor (slightly on the back burner while I unkink my writer's block) and Hands of the Emperor (just started dabbling, nothing posted yet). Before that Merlin, Green Rider, Realm of the Elderlings, Doctor Who, and Harry Potter predominantly, with little dips into Discworld, Sherlock, Sweep, Supernatural, Percy Jackson, Lady Trent, Life on Mars, Old Kingdom, Life on Mars, and MASH. I have some Narnia stuff kicking about in my drafts somewhere, and while I've never posted it I've been writing Animorphs fanfic for years.

4. what are your top 5 fics by kudos?

The Stairs Beneath the Heart: Goblin Emperor, a series of vignettes that runs parallel to the canon that I posted through the start of the pandemic and really enjoyed. It was the first time in ages I'd had a regular posting schedule, and the first time ever I'd had that much fandom attention on something I was writing - everyone was so lovely <3.

Take These Tower Stones: Goblin Emperor, the sequel to the above, a much more coherent and consistent story which everyone was again really supportive of <3

What Friends Are For: Discworld; Angua gives Vetinari the shovel talk. There's a big disparity in the stats between the previous two fics and the rest, so these last three were a surprise to me! I'm glad people liked them though :)

Fire in the Night: Merlin, somewhat angsty nightmare/comfort oneshot. Again, surprised to see this one so near the top, but pleasantly so.

The Michen Emperor: Goblin Emperor again, currently the bane of my existence because I can't seem to finish it (I will eventually, just need to unstick my brain). Really appreciate all the love people have shown it. Basically, what if canon but with smol!Maia.

7. what’s the fic you wrote with the happiest ending?

Probably either Take These Towers Stones, or Red Sky (which is a tiny little snippet of fluff).

8. do you get hate on fics?

I've had a few shitty comments, and mostly I've just deleted them. I've never had any extended hate campaigns or anything, just people who mistakenly thought their dislike was worth expressing.

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

Occasionally; usually though not always queer, normally pretty tame. I read smut usually without worrying about the warnings, but I'm a bit too shy to comment on it, and I think that extends to my writing, haha. Maybe I'll get the hang of it some day :)

10. do you write crossovers?

Nah, for some reason they don't work for me at all - almost a squick, I don't read them either. The closest I got was considering a fic where the characters from Green Rider had diplomatic contact with the characters from the Chronicles of Ixia series, but I never ended up getting there.

11. have you ever had a fic stolen?

Not that I know of.

12. Have you ever had a fic translated?

I don't think so - I should probably put in my Ao3 that people are welcome to if they like, I keep forgetting. I'd be honoured if anyone wanted to.

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

Nope; I'm very picky and not good at compromise, though it's something I'd like to work on one day. It'd have to be very low stakes and with someone very patient!

15. What’s a WIP you want to finish but doubt you will?

Lines of Silver and Gold (Realm of the Elderlings) is probably my oldest fic that is both posted and unfinished, and I have no current plans to work on it. I'm hoping that one day I'll be able to come back to it, but that book series was my thesis topic and unfortunately I rather burnt myself out on it, so it might be a long while.

The Queen Rider series was originally going to have two more fics, but those have been scrapped; fortunately it resolves quite nicely as is. Maybe I will put up a little misc fic with what I do have of the rest some day.

And on a more positive note, my Animorphs fic - it was originaly going to be a full written-through story spanning a considerable post-canon period, but unfortunately I lost the original in a harddrive failure and while I rewrote some of it I rather lost my enthusiasm for it. However, I have been reconsidering lately and might post what exists as a series of loosely connected vignettes; we'll see.

16. What are your writing strengths?

Dialogue is what I find easy and what I've received the most compliments on; I think this is because a lot of my fic is drafted "out loud" before I get anywhere near setting it to page, so the first iteration is often predominantly speech. I'm also often told I'm good at mimicking the tone of the canon, if I'm writing for a book fandom.

17. What are your writing weaknesses?

Research (I'll do it if it's something that will otherwise potentially hurt people, but other than that I have neither the effort nor the inclination), and making things messy - that is, I tend to tidy things up a lot and I'm not good at letting my characters get things wrong/communicate badly/etc. Good for fix-its, less good for creating challenges in the story.

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

I am depressingly monolingual so I don't do it in my fics; as to what everyone else does I think they should have fun and do whatever they like, I suppose. Not enough knowledge to have more of an opinion than that.

19. First fandom you wrote for?

Harry Potter was my gateway fandom.

20. Favourite fic you’ve written?

Ohhhh tough one. I'm immensely proud of the Keystone series (The Stairs Beneath the Heart and Take These Tower Stones), so they're solid candidates, but I also really like The Shadow of the Mountains (Lady Trent) and Miracles (Realm of the Elderlings), the latter of which contains possibly my favourite line of prose I've written.

I'm tagging @the-tao-of-fandom, @pipuhattar, @alittlefellowinawideworld, @nonasuch, and anyone else who'd like to answer!

[glorious-spoon]

9 and any Stranger Things ship for the wrapped meme

Thank you! Number 9 this year was Limelight, by Rush. Here's a bit of pre-relationship Steddie featuring Eddie's complicated feelings about his hometown - I hope you enjoy!

-

title: get on with the fascination [on AO3]

word count: ~1900

-

Fifteen years after the world doesn't end, Eddie Munson returns to Hawkins.

It's a dramatic phrasing, even in his own head; for one thing, this is far from the first time he's been back since the summer of 1986, although the last time was almost a decade ago. He doesn't call it going home. Home is New York, and sometimes Chicago these days, which is as close to Roane County as he usually wants to get. Home, as far as it ever existed for him in Hawkins, was a trailer that got dropped into an alternate dimension along with a good chunk of the town the same night Eddie almost died. Home is the little house over the Illinois border where Wayne has lived since '91. Home sure as shit isn't here.

"You planning on brooding this whole time, or what?" Steve asks from across the booth. The bar they're currently sitting in is no longer called The Hideout; at some point in the last fifteen years, it's been rebranded to On The Rocks Bar And Grill. There's a fresh coat of paint on the walls and a layer of new laminate flooring over the old asbestos tile. Draft taps and an honest-to-god raised stage instead of the grimy corner where the old band used to play. At the turn of the millennium, Hawkins is finally gentrifying.

"I'm not brooding."

"Yeah, man, you totally are. Could we get a couple of refills? Thanks so much," he adds to the waitress who pauses by their table to ask if they need anything. She doesn't seem to recognize Eddie. Too young to remember him from his illustrious youth here, and apparently not into the metal scene, thank fucking Christ. For the most part, he kind of likes it when strangers come up to him in public—two platinum records in and it still hasn't lost its novelty—but not here. Not in Hawkins. This place still feels fucking cursed.

"Are you buying me beer now, Harrington?"

"You're the big-shot rockstar," Steve points out with a shit-eating grin. "You're buying."

"Ugh," Eddie groans, and puts his head down on the table, which doesn't even have the decency to be sticky. "Remind me again why I agreed to this?"

"I don't know. Closure?"

"Next time I decide to do something this shit-stupid, can you do me a favor and just, like, duct tape me to a chair or something?"

"Kinky," Steve says dryly, but he's still smiling when Eddie lifts his head to glare at him. Eddie should probably be less of a dick about this, given that Steve is only here for moral support; he doesn't live in Hawkins either these days. He's up in Chicago with Robin, who would also probably be here if she weren't mired in stacks of midterm papers on film theory from her earnest little freshman ducklings. Steve makes his own hours, so it's not that much of a surprise that he closed up shop and drove down here and didn't bother to call until he'd already crossed the county line, at which point Eddie was winding himself up into a dangerous head of steam and was grateful for any distraction that offered itself.

And Steve is the best kind of distraction. Always has been. Even now, kicked back in a bar booth in all his yuppie glory, sipping the last of his beer and scanning the bar every now and then with a wariness that Eddie hasn't seen from him in a while. Because Eddie isn't the only one who left a headful of ghosts behind in Hawkins, Indiana. He forgets that sometimes.

"Thank you, by the way," he says. "Did I say that yet?"

"Nah. Mostly you've just been, like, bemoaning your life."

"Bemoaning," Eddie repeats, delighted. "We'll make a poet of you yet, Stevie."

"In your dreams," Steve says mildly.

"Oh, every night, baby."

That gets him a scoff, but it's a fond one. The waitress comes back with their drinks, and he leans back out of her way to let her set them down and clear away their empty glasses. Steve thanks her again, and this time Eddie does too, because there's only so much wallowing that Steve will let him get away with and he's probably closing in on that limit quickly. Still, all Steve actually says once she leaves is, "So what's the plan, then? You're meeting the interviewers at, what, three?"

"Yeah," Eddie sighs. "I don't fucking know. They wanted me to, like, walk them around and show them the old sights, which sounded like a great idea when Marleen pitched it, but now it's like, what old sights? Oh, here's where the basketball team tried to kick my skull in. Here's where the football team tried to kick my skull in. Here's the picnic table where I used to sell weed out of my lunch box. Here's where my trailer was before a girl died there and it got sucked into the shadow dimension, except—oops!—can't tell you shit about that because I signed a stack of confidentiality agreements almost as tall as me. But they're still gonna ask." He lets out a long sigh and presses the heels of his hands into his eyes. "They're gonna want me to talk about Chrissy."

"So you tell them to go to hell."

He barks a laugh. "Easy as that, huh?"

"You've never had trouble with it before," Steve says with a shrug.

That's true enough. Eddie sighs again and reaches for his beer. "This place is fucking me up. No, there is actually a plan. We're gonna stop by the high school after it's cleared out and do the interview there, it's all set up. You know they put up a plaque with my name on it outside the drama room?"

Steve laughs. "No shit?"

"Yeah, apparently there was a vicious battle about it on the school board. Real fire and brimstone shit, went on for months. Henderson's mom led the charge on my behalf, I got the whole story from him."

"Jesus," Steve says. And then, "Shit, we should go see her while we're in town."

"You're just hoping she'll feed you."

"Well, yeah," Steve says. "I've been living on my own cooking since…" he waves a hand and makes a face. "You know. Since everything went south with Jerry."

Jerry was the latest in a series of attractive people of varying genders that Steve has dated over the last ten years, since he moved to Chicago and figured his shit out. Eddie kind of hated the guy, but it wasn't personal. He was objectively probably a perfectly fine person, and it wasn't his fault that Eddie fell head over heels for a hot monster-slaying jock in the spring of 1986 and never entirely recovered. Though, as he's now reminded, it's been a long time since he and Steve were both single at the same time, and the last time that happened, he still thought Steve was straight.

He tries to swallow that thought down with a mouthful of beer, but it lingers like a strange spiky shape in the back of his throat. "So, how's all that going, anyway?"

Steve groans dramatically.

"An encouraging response."

"No, it's fine. I'm, like, totally over him at this point. I just… I don't know, I figured I'd be past all this shit by now, you know? Thought I'd settle down, get my life together, find somebody who…" he trails off.

"Who…?" Eddie repeats leadingly.

"I don't know. Somebody who gets it. Somebody I don't have to, like, lie to."

"That's a tall order, my friend."

"Yeah, I guess," Steve mutters. He's looking at his beer, rubbing a thumb against the wedge-shaped scar bisecting his lower lip. He's got a lot of scars, and Eddie knows the story to most of them, even the ones he wasn't personally present for. But he supposes that he can see how it would wear on Steve, inventing explanations for them that aren't about being tortured by Russian spies or eaten alive by interdimensional monsters. Steve's not much of a liar, when it comes down to it. Eddie doesn't mind spinning fantastical stories to obscure the ugly truth, but they're wired differently that way.

"Hey," Eddie says. He taps his fingernails against Steve's glass and waits for him to look up. "Listen, I'm sorry I brought it up."

Steve smiles a little. "It's fine. Seriously. Robin says I'm being a sad sack, and she's probably right."

"Mm. Probably, but I am not the sensible Professor Doctor Buckley, am I?"

"God, you know she hates it when you call her that."

"She's the one who decided to get a PhD. Masochism, in my strong opinion."

"Oh, we all know," Steve says. He glances over Eddie's shoulder at the clock, then says, "Probably ought to get going if you want to make your interview on time."

"And Marleen has promised to string me up by my metaphorical balls if I show up late for another one," Eddie sighs. He drains the last of his beer and stands, digging his wallet out.

After they pay and head outside, Steve lingers by the side of the brick building, facing the road. It's a sunny day, breezy and crisp, pale wisps of clouds moving fast across the blue sky, and something about it makes Eddie's chest pinch with a strange nostalgia. Something about the way Steve looks right now, in his stylish yet dorky windbreaker with his hair tossed by the breeze. It's shorter now than he used to wear it but he really doesn't look that different at thirty-four than he did at nineteen. Older, sure, but it suits him.

"After I'm done with all this shit," Eddie says. "You wanna go get high at the quarry? You know, for old times' sake?"

Steve laughs softly, eyes crinkling. "Does it really count if we're not smoking in the back of your van?"

"True. Pretty sure I wouldn't get the deposit back on my rental if I turn it in smelling like grass, either."

"We can take my car," Steve says.

"Yeah?"

"Yeah. If you want."

"You wanna crash with me after? So you don't have to drive all the way back home tonight, I mean? The room they booked me is, like, palatial. I didn't even know they had places that nice around here."

Steve glances at him again, rubbing his jaw. It wouldn't be the first time they've shared a hotel room, but there's a different context now. For one thing, they can both afford separate rooms these days. For another, Eddie's got that itch that means he's probably gonna do something reckless, and he's not even sure he wants to try to stop it.

If he and Steve go smoke up by the quarry where they spent the last summer of Eddie's teens, he's going to confess something, he's pretty sure of it. Lay it all on the line for Steve, after all this time. He's starting to think that might not even be the worst idea he's ever had. Steve is here, after all.

"Yeah, okay," Steve says, finally. He bumps his shoulder against Eddie's, and Eddie leans back into the solid warmth of him, and takes a deep breath of cool spring air, and watches the Hawkins traffic pass them by.

Tomorrow, he'll be gone. Maybe, if this doesn't all blow up in his face, he'll go back to Chicago with Steve. Hawkins is a place he's outgrown years ago, and whatever story comes out of this interview is never going to be anything other than a media-crafted shadow of the truth, but honestly, that's never been what mattered in the end.

"It's a date, then," he says, and when he glances over at Steve, he finds him already smiling back.

[usmsgutterson]

Hi!! Wylan x reader who’s an inventor of sorts & just made a camera for the sole purpose of taking a picture of him <3 👾

Wylan x male! inventor! reader headcanons

hi!! Thank you for sending in the requests that you have and I'm sorry that they've taken so long to come out! I will say that tumblr has been very glitchy on my end lately and I've been losing requests and not seeing them for a bit--or ever again, some of them have been missing from my inbox for a couple weeks now--so if there's anything of yours I've missed that you can recall that you really wanted me to write please don't hesitate to just plop the idea into my inbox! If I end up deciding to write it I'll put it into my drafts to ensure I don't lose it but if I decide not to, I'll let you know!

I went ahead and did this as headcanons, which I hope is all right!

Fic type- this is just fluff straight out the gate

Warnings- this was written and then posted almost immediately after it was done, so there's not much to speak of as far as editing is concerned

Okay, so!

Photos as a concept were something that was being discussed just generally around Ketterdam a lot

Mainly in circles of the stadwatch because if they could get photos they could have evidence through more than some very shoddy paintings, sketches, or word of mouth

and with a lot of effort, a level of planning by which even Kaz would be impressed, and a bit of practice in being startlingly quiet footed, you wormed your way into the rooms where those discussions were taking place because you had an idea of your own.

You took the words spoken by government officials and inventors under the Kerch Merchant Councils employ and went home. You drew up a plan that was completely different to the sketches you'd seen while you observed from a point high in the ceiling, the back of your head pressed against a wall as you willed yourself not to breathe too loud and to avoid being noticed

You developed the first camera that Ketterdam had ever seen across the weeks to follow, something different to the sketches you'd seen from afar while you listened to the government drone on about how much of a benefit to society cameras would be while they were in the hands of the stadwatch

The ideas that the government were circulating all involved relatively clunky cameras, ones with tripods that came out the bottom and were exceptional only in stationary situations.

You developed a camera that you could take anywhere. It was lightweight, could fit between ones hands, and had the option of attaching a strap so that it could be carried while slung over ones neck.

The entire motivation behind the project made you feel a bit silly, but Inej found it to be rather romantic and Jesper thought you cheesy, as they were the only two you had told until the first prototype of the camera was complete.

They were your best friends, and they'd both happened to walk in on you planning out the invention at different points, ask what it was out of curiosity and receive your honest answer.

The entire reason you'd liked the idea of cameras was not for the gang related purposes most would've assumed had they known of it. You were not developing a portable camera to help Kaz and Inej gather intel for their schemes and their battles that would eventually have lead to a gang war.

You liked the idea of cameras because it meant you could take photos of Wylan, your boyfriend.

You could capture the moments where he looked so at peace while the two of you watched the sunset in the garden, the look of focus as he worked on an explosive, the sight of his head tilted back as he laughed.

You could capture all of the unforgettable moments that you were scared of forgetting anyway, seconds in time wherein you felt infinitely happy and needed something to remember that.

So, it was the first night you'd let yourself exist with the final product that Wylan finally discovered it.

He discovered it while he and Inej were laughing, glasses of wine in their hands when suddenly--

click!

Wylan glanced in your direction, where the sound had come from, found you yielding the camera with a grin on your face.

He would ask you how you got it and nod when Kaz observed that the government had unveiled prototypes that looked completely different at a discussion only open to those living in the merchants district.

You would shrug and tell him you invented things, and that you needed an excuse to get five steps ahead of government inventions anyway.

You were smarter than the lot of the government idiots combined and they wouldn't start shrinking camera sizes for a bit by your predictions, so you had time before a government official got wind of it all and approached you, offering to give you money in exchange for the patent and you said no.

You told Wylan the opposite of the truth in that moment, not wanting to get called a hopeless romantic or face any of Ninas teasing for the romantics right then and there.

You told him and the rest of them it was for intel gathering purposes and that it was the first prototype--Kaz would get the second, maybe the third, and he would get it for a price because you weren't going to sell one of them off for cheap.

Wylan knew you were lying but didn't push it.

Later that night, you told him the real reason you'd bothered to invent a camera that was so far ahead of the one that the Merchant Council was unveiling in fits and starts.

You'd done it because you didn't want to forget even the most unforgettable moments, and upon learning that, Wylan nearly melted.

He kissed you, and he told you he loved you, and he called you an absolute sap before he grabbed the camera and looked at the photo you'd taken.

He loved it. He'd never quite anticipated loving anything of that sort, but he looked genuinely happy in that split second, and knowing that you were the person behind the camera made him love the photo that much more.

In short, he loved you and he loved that you created a camera just to take photos of him and to not worry about forgetting the unforgettable moments you both lived through.

[severeweatheralert]

Things I learned while writing two novel-length fics in the space of nine months

Or, advice I hope might be of someone use to someone out there, but all brains are different so YMMV. Ironically, this is probably the longest tumblr post I've ever written. Do let me know if you got something out of it!

Planning

You don't need to know every single plot detail at the start. It DOES really help to know roughly where you're going, plotwise and thematically, so it feels less like you're running straight into the great unknown and more like you're headed to some destination. Even if you don't quite know how you're going to get there, yet.

You don't need to know every single character detail, either. Favourite song? Favourite food? I couldn't name my own, let alone my characters'. What is important is a general idea of what makes them tick. What do they want? Why are they here? How do they think? (and if you do introduce details, save them in a notes file someplace, so you can easily find them later).

Outlines are great. Outlines are not the law. If you come up with something that works better than the thing you'd originally planned? Change it.

Scene setting

Remember that you're writing fic, not a movie script. That means you don't have an effects team to pay and you can make the entire environment do whatever you want. Forest fire on the horizon to match your characters' mood? Do it.

Trust that your readers' imagination works. You don't need to describe every single detail to set a scene effectively. Just pick out a few that give off the mood you want, and leave it at that. (Setting dependent, of course- a scifi setting will need more description than a classroom or a hospital room, where most people will have been in their life at least once). This goes for character descriptions too.

Sprinkle scene descriptors through the dialogue/action instead of starting with a whole paragraph of exposition. You'll pull people in quicker.

Research: if you're setting your fic in an existing place, it helps to do (some) research and incorporate that in the work. Simple things like incorporating the name of an existing retail chain or a highway makes your setting feel a lot more real. Google Maps is great if you're writing in a country you've never been to. Just hop on streetview.

Drafting

If you're trying and failing (multiple times) to write a scene, ask yourself if there might be a pacing reason for that. Is the scene necessary at all? Are you trying to start too early in the scene? What are you trying to establish with it, and could that maybe happen elsewhere in the story?

If you get stuck on a phrase/name you haven't picked/word you can't think of/detail you haven't yet researched: put something like [NAME] in brackets. Then keep going. You can come back to it later and you don't need to disrupt your writing flow.

Turn grammar and spell check off. Run a spell check when editing but don't get haunted by the little red line while drafting. A lot of the time its suggestions are bad anyway.

When writing dialogue-heavy scenes, it's sometimes nice to get the actual dialogue out of the way first, then come back later and add actions or descriptions in between to pace the dialogue.

Sometimes you'll have to draft a scene multiple times before it feels right. This is painful, but ultimately okay.

Feel like you should write but don't really want to? I like to set a timer for like 20-30 minutes, give it a go, and if I'm not into it by the time it goes off I'll go do something else.

Editing

Let a section sit for at least a day before going back in to edit. Give your brain some time to forget some of it. You can still draft the next bit in this time!

Sometimes it helps to set the text to a different font or to paste it into a different text editor. Trick your brain into thinking you haven't seen it before, basically. If you're brave, you can even use the editor of whatever website you're posting to.

This is when you run the spell check. But remember: you're allowed to mess with grammar and use words that the spell check says don't exist. "He deadpanned" is a perfectly understandable dialogue tag, for example.

Use a thesaurus! I like powerthesaurus.org because it has a dark mode. The main thing to remember is that you're using it to find synonyms that may fit your meaning/the mood better, not to find more complex words. Especially useful if you find yourself using the same word over and over in a section.

Practical things

Brainstorming on paper works WAY better for my brain than brainstorming digitally, for reasons unknown. Plus you get the fullfillment of using up a notebook.

Have a scraps folder for deleted scenes. Don't actually delete them! You can scrap them for good lines later.

Especially for longform work, keep notes. Things like repeated lines, relevant plot details, things you want to incorporate in future chapters: keep them somewhere where you can find them.

For writer's block: sometimes you need to let a story simmer for a bit. I like going for hikes or chewing on my plot in the shower.

I like having two WIPs with vastly different moods at the same time. One in posting stages, one in drafting stages. That way if I don't want to work on a very moody WIP, I can switch to the other and still get something done.

If you're writing longform work: you'll improve over time. Try to resist the urge to go back and edit the first chapters once they start grating at your perfectionism. Especially if you've already posted them.

Don't write the whole thing in one document if it's longer than ~10k. I like SmartEdit Writer to organize my fics. It's free.

Uploading

I'd recommend having a few chapters' backlog before you start posting. This way you a) know you like the fic enough to keep working on it for more than one chapter; b) have some backlog in case writer's block strikes or life gets in the way of writing; c) can go back and edit in foreshadowing or edit out plotholes as you discover them.

If you have (and want to give) a lot of content warnings, keep a list while you're writing the chapter, so you don't have to figure it out last minute before uploading.

Your works' stats (kudos/hits/subs/comments) say nothing about the quality of your work. This one is hard to internalize.

[sp00kymulderr]

tell me your secrets before we fade to black

Part 1

Pairing: Bruce Wayne x gn reader

Fandom: The Batman (2022)

Warnings: Blood, injury, cursing, alcohol mention, nothing major for this part.

Word count: 2,228

A/N: Old  draft that I randomly decided to start editing last night, now I’m really in to it again so here we are!

Summary: He’s broken, and he has broken your heart. Now you’re finally beginning to let go and make your peace with never seeing him again, but how often these things just don’t go to plan.

When the heavens open from grey, dreary skies Gotham feels most like home to you.

This city that seems to consume its inhabitants, eat them whole – soul and all.

It’s freezing, breath shaking out of you in a visible fog as you dodge through the crowd of fast opening umbrellas, your hands tight around a warm paper cup to stop them tingling in the cold. There’s a storm coming, wind picking up too. You watch as detritus from the street is raised up by it dramatically, flying high and catching on leafless branches to be left to hang. Remnants of this miserable moment.

You watch quiet as the city moves with it – people head-down fighting against the gusts, skeleton trees with heavy branches shaking against it, the rattle of objects flung from their proper place. Even the buildings seem to be fighting for their place in it, empty desolate blocks with windows rattling loudly.

It is miserable, and yet it always feels like home.

Gotham has taken a battering time and time again, still trying to rebuild itself from every pain it has endured and always preparing for the next. It feels so strangely normal now, you and the people and the city desensitized to it all.

Truth be told, it isn’t the place you had planned to be at this point in your life. It wasn’t where you’d expected to stay, seeing as most of those you knew had moved on long ago. But after everything you’d seen this city endure you felt a fierce loyalty to it, a camaraderie with the others who couldn’t seem to leave it. You belonged to Gotham now, and it to you. 

Perhaps it had already taken your soul.

But then again, might it have something to do the hopeless candle you hold. Because even though it’s been months since you last crossed paths, knowing he’s here keeps you hopeful too.

It has been near impossible to forget Bruce Wayne, to let him fade from your memory the way he had from your life. Years on and you were still seeing him, too often, in all the little things you shared. Haunted by him, in a way. Forgetting him was impossible, and moving on was even harder.

A ghost, he was in every place you had been, in every memory you had shared. He lived in the time between places, the moments that passed between minutes. When you'd been young the city was yours, you'd run through those parks that now looked so dark and dreary. You'd crashed through the streets in synchronised giggling chaos as young friends often do.

He'd always been a part of your life, always somewhere in it. And yes, he'd changed after losing his parents but who wouldn't? It had hit everyone in this city hard, everyone who hoped for better for Gotham had felt the shock wave of the Wayne's death run through the city. It had torn Bruce apart, you’d watched him and felt so helpless to save him. Thankful when over the years you saw him put himself back together, learn to cope better.

And then he disappeared.

He left your life like he'd never been part of it, left you with no friend to turn to – no inkling of hope that he had ever or would ever care for you the way you did for him. Just...left. Left you devastated and confused, wanting a reason for his suddenly no longer existing.

You never got that. Never got any word from him but the odd, unimportant text. It had been two years now, and he was no where to be seen. Hiding up in his tower and presumably whiling away his life in lonely isolation. Desolation.

That tower – that was half the problem. How can you escape the reminder that he's here in your city when every time you look up you're reminded of exactly where he is. You have half a mind to waltz up there and demand an answer, demand something...anything...to give you some peace about losing your closest friend.

But you don't. You can't. He's stubborn, but so are you, and you won't make the first move to rekindle this relationship when you put everything in to keeping it alive as he slowly became a memory. You're angry about it. About the fact that he's abandoned the city too. He was cared for and supported, by them, by you. Your family, your friends. Your feelings for him held him up for moments when nothing else mattered.

You've tried to call him, to see if hearing your voice will make him see some reason. Last year, you'd called the landline to be told you he was unavailable. Alfred had told you the same. You'd tried his cell. No answer. Five times.

You'd lost him. Eventually you had to admit it.

He'd gone.

And so, you tried your damn best to forget about those days and those stupid feelings you seemed to have always had. You'd thought about leaving after that, when you'd decided to give up on him, considered joining your family who had moved away a while ago. Or even going further afield, somewhere new and unknown. Nothing was really stopping you - you could do it if you wanted to.

But you don't want to, not really.

This is home. It has always been. Gotham is the place you know the best, it's the place that knows you best. Despite it's chaos, it's many wounds and cracks in the framework this city is the one you feel too attached to to ever give up on. No, you were giving up on him, not Gotham.

You carried on with your life, with your job and your little apartment and your slowly dwindling social life. Sometimes you went to the events, just to see if he'd be there to. But not because you want to see him, certainly not for that. Just to see if he'd ever show his face again, represent his family in all their philanthropy again.

You wondered if he was sorry for that, for the lack of care he had for the foundation. For the lack of help he was giving to the city that raised him. He could've made something of it all by now. The things he could've done, if he had just tried harder to fight through his demons. Bruce was smart, smarter than anyone even gave him credit for - he had been brilliant, bright, a strong mind and soul. He could've made so much of the opportunity he had.

You just wanted to understand him, to ask him why he didn't keep the legacy alive like he'd once said he would. All you wanted now was to know what he was thinking. But you'd never be able to ask him that.

You had to move on. To stop thinking about him. Stop looking up at that fucking tower. Wondering where he is, which of the many rooms he's pacing in. You hope he's not standing still. Hope he's not quietly rotting away in his own misery.

                                                          ***

It's a few weeks later, after the storm, that you are home and lonely and wallowing with a drink and some music that drowns the solemnness away a little bit. You hate him on nights like this, for making you feel this way. Lonely. Loneliness was not in your cards, not before this. Even when your family had left and you'd stayed behind for college you'd had every opportunity to stay close with friends and cared for by someone. By Bruce, sometimes, when you were getting closer. And now. Now you were lonely even when you tried not to be.

You try to shake off the thoughts, just enjoy the melody that doesn't remind you of anything and let it lull you slowly to rest.

Some time late the noise at your door stirs you suddenly awake. A strange sound, a shuffling and what sounds like the muffled noise of a person. Someone outside your door. Your head jolts up too fast at the first thud, causing a pain in your neck that makes you wince. It’s not the raucous noise of your neighbours kids, being far too late for that and far too early for it to be anyone leaving for work. There is a groan, perhaps a hand hitting the door with little force, the sound of something heavy falling against it. You hold a breath and tried not to be afraid, releasing it quietly as you move slowly toward the door to investigate. You weren't fool enough to not consider something dangerous awaiting you.

It isn't until you hear the sound again, the raking groan and the stutter of your name - there is pain in it, quiet as the sounding is. With not enough thought you go to the door, peeking out to see a figure standing against the frame, propped up with one shoulder against the door. You gasp, loud, and you know he hears you. 

Opening the door, fumbling with the chain, you stand still in silence as your heart beats like it wants to rip out of your chest in a bloody cocophony of blind panic.

"Bruce" you finally gasp out, after some time, processing what you see before you. He’s there, barely standing at your door. It takes you forever to register his stance, the panting, the hand drawn tight to his left side.

Every single emotion crosses through you at once; your body shakes with it. Violent and visceral. He's here. 

He's here. 

You've spent more than a year of your life trying to chase him out of your mind but he’s here anyway.

"Bruce" you repeat, still in disbelief but this time more urgent. There's something dark, sticky covering his hand. It's not blood. Why would he come to you like this. It's not blood.

He doesn't speak. He barely looks at you, but winces in pain as he moves towards the threshold where you stand. Suddenly there's anger bubbling inside you, anger that tastes like pain. Like the last two years is all coming to a head in this one moment and a reddened, screaming monster has manifested from it. Why are you here, you want to scream. Why did you come here. Why didn't you come here sooner. Why did you leave me.

It tears you apart, all those questions. But he's barely hanging on, head sagging as his body almost sways. "Please" he whimpers. Please. Your heart aches miserably.

"Please" before he falls to the floor and almost through your door.

"Bruce!" urgent now. His knees hit the floor and then all of him, with a thud. When his right hand moves to ease his fall it is covered in the dark red slick of his blood. You rush forward, gasping, to pull him up and inside your apartment. He's saying something in your ear as you struggle to drag him. You can't quite make it out but it's something like sorry.

Sorry! A world that is too little to late now.

Sorry. But it heals a broken fragment of your heart, just one, and it's a start.

For a moment, everything is spinning, circling out of control like a waking nightmare because this isn't fathomable. You've spent two years wondering and wishing and cursing over him, pining for something that never even fucking was. And he's spent two years hiding away from you and your love and everyone else in the world and suddenly, like a bolt of vicious lightning hitting you straight in the chest he's appeared.

You can't being to understand everything you're feeling as you prop him up and all but drag his heavy frame to the couch that you'd been miserably falling asleep on five minutes ago. His bulk is more than you remember, he's difficult to move and barely conscious enough to help you so you dump him on the closest seat of the couch unceremoniously and try to make sense of the mess in front of you.

Your heart is racing, palms sweaty, tingling all over with something - shock, adrenaline, unbearable anger perhaps. All you can think is why is he here, why me. Again, again and again. Why would he come to you? He moves, grunts a little as he tries to prop himself up on the mess of cushions and blankets he's currently lain across. Bleeding on to your favourite blanket. Great.

The blood. Shit, the blood. What do you do? He should go to hospital.

"No, can't" he says, gravelly and raw. You hadn't realised you had even spoken the thought out loud.

"Just need to check the wound. I couldn't..." he's struggling to speak, clear pain in his voice.

"Bruce I...." you don't know what to say.

He's pulling up the grey baggy tshirt that covers his torso. There's blood on his fingertips. Fuck.

"What happened?"

He doesn't answer. Passes out instead.

What are you meant to do here. What are you meant to fucking do. All you can think is useless thoughts about your own feelings and there is a man possibly dying on your little two seater next to your half drunk glass of wine. You laugh, you laugh because it's absurd. It's completely fucking unbelievable.

So this is how Bruce Wayne stumbles back in to your life.

[keyshui]

i present to you, a very unserious post in which i insult every NHL team!

(this is all exaggerated so don’t get mad at me)

anaheim ducks - why is it that 1/3 of the way through the season you remember how to play hockey? like at this point it’s useless since you’re not making the playoffs and if you keep up like this you sure aren’t getting bedard

arizona coyotes - i do not like your jerseys. you would be forgettable but you suck too much for it

boston bruins - the only thing your team has going for you are your goalies and i hope next season you end up where the ducks are rn: not good enough for the playoffs and not bad enough for the draft lottery. sorry garnet hathaway (please come back)

buffalo sabres - i can define your entire team in one word: disappointment

calgary flames - anything good about you died when matthew tkachuk decided to go to florida. sorry!

carolina hurricanes - something about the “canes” nickname annoys the shit out of me. i hope you get a first round exit purely so the fans enjoying their team being good for once can be upset about it

chicago blackhawks - do i even have to say anything? because ew

colorado avalanche - literally how did you win the cup last year? thanks for the cup winning goalie btw <3 kuemper is better as a cap

columbus blue jackets - you don’t deserve bedard and i hope you lose the lottery since you’re clearly not pulling yourself out of the tank like the ducks

dallas stars - your jerseys are fucking ugly and the only stars player i can think of is tyler seguin (seriously… why that green…)

detroit red wings - you have the most obnoxious fan base i have ever had the displeasure of being in the same stadium with. LET GO OF THE 90s!!! PLEASE

edmonton oilers - how do you have two of the best players in the league and still manage to fail to get a cup every single playoffs

florida panthers - honestly if it weren’t for matthew tkachuk trade and the all stars game you’d be a dying, forgettable team

los angeles kings - i literally cant think of anything to put here. that’s how little you matter.

minnesota wild - one time in like 2019 the wild squished the caps at a game i was at so i decided that the wild suck. other than that y’all are so forgettable that i don’t have anything else to say

montreal canadiens - how is it that you keep managing to get beaten so so badly by teams that suck?

nashville predators - uuuugly ass jerseys and stuuuupid ass name

new jersey devils - jack hughes isn’t as hot as y’all think he is both in terms of attraction and skill

new york islanders - i hold a deep seated hatred for all new york city teams. you and your fanbases are so goddamn annoying

new york rangers - same with the islanders except 10x worse purely because of the little rivalry the caps hage with you (hope tom wilson squishes you tonight <3)

ottawa senators - really says something about your team that you had to name brady tkachuk of all people captain

philadelphia flyers - literally what is your logo i hate it. the only thing you have going for you is gritty and even that gets tiring REAL fast

pittsburgh penguins - i don’t care if the caps/pens rivalry doesn’t exist anymore it’s ingrained into me i hate you all and especially sidney crosby. you’re an aging team. retire already. ovechkin is better and malkin is overhyped

san jose sharks - wasted a sick ass team name on a depressing team

seattle kraken - y’all were doing so good at the start of the season what the hell happened. now it’s just disappointment…

st. louis blues - you’re one of those teams that i forget isn’t fake sometimes. like you’re not forgettable you’re just not… real

tampa bay lightning - i don’t get the hype the fanbase has for vasilevsky and your gray/yellow jerseys are way better than the normal ones

toronto maple leafs - auston matthews is not hot even slightly y’all just have competency kinks and it’s sad

vancouver canucks - quinn hughes looks so haunted and depressed all the time for a reason

vegas golden knights - did y’all think you were being funny when you decided to match with the kings?

washington capitals - jesus fuck just retire the entire goddamn team at this point. stop sending your prospects to the ahl and fucking play them if you want to give your roster some “youth” (i’m looking at you gmbm & laviolette)

winnipeg jets - if it weren’t for the fact that i used a website to make this list alphabetical order i would’ve forgotten you

[gretchensinister]

[Ask Game] Writing Patterns

Tagged by @sylphidine (I don't forget ask games, they just go in drafts to mature for a little while.)

Rules: List the first line of your last 10 (posted) fics and see if there's a pattern.

I did this for last lines in a different game, so let's see if anything can be learned from the first lines of those same fics!

The list goes from oldest to newest:

Koz holds his vampire in his lap, holds him fiercely, holds him close.

(all I ever do around you is want, Rise of the Guardians, Pitch/Sandy, vampire AU)

“So, Sandy, I have an important question for you,” Pitch says, settling down next to him on a sofa in the Fountain Square house.

(Shortday at Fountain Square, Rise of the Guardians, Pitch/Sandy, bonus fic for my epic fantasy AU A Draught of Light)

Yellow. Gold. The difference between the two can be subtle, one changing to the other with a trick of the light, a trick of the eye, a trick of the mind.

(Yellow/Gold, Rise of the Guardians, Pitch/Sandy, eldritch AU)

It had happened again.

(Incarnation, The Dark Crystal/The Dark Crystal: Age of Resistance, SkekGra/UrGoh)

You knew it was later than you felt it was, but you had no idea how late it was in truth.

(Clearing, The Ritual, Moder/Reader)

The carnival heralds Halloween, Train rushing into a town innocent.

(Something Wicked Is Me, Something Wicked This Way Comes, poetry collection.)

“Test 1, begin.”

(New, Improved, Guaranteed Quality, erotic sci-fi dystopia (I have trouble describing this work) original work that exists because of Pitch/Sandy)

UrIm carefully made his way up the narrow path to UrSen’s cell.

(To Keep a Body Whole, The Dark Crystal/The Dark Crystal: Age of Resistance, mystic focus)

It wasn’t as if SkekGra hadn’t immediately had a few speculations about what UrGoh had in mind when he offered SkekGra a cup of mapzad tea alongside his pipe, while taking none for himself.

(Abundance, The Dark Crystal/The Dark Crystal: Age of Resistance, SkekGra/UrGoh)

Long    Story       Dead          Ahead                   →

(The Sleepover, Dragonball Z, LMAO okay this is the most recent thing I have posted on Ao3 BUT ALSO the oldest work on the list by far. The Archive is an archive! So when I found a notebook with a DBZ fic my friend and I wrote in middle school, I put it in the Archive for, well, archival purposes! I believe in academia they call this juvenilia. Anyway, you don’t get anything else on this list without this one babey! Also in middle school a story under 2000 words felt long to me.)

So, what have I learned from this? I think I've gotten pretty good at starting the story where the story starts, which is something I learned in my practice of writing a lot of fics between 500-2000 words--you can't waste any time with something that short. I also was pleased to be reminded of the deliberate bookending I did with New, Improved, Guaranteed Quality. Its not something that every story needs, but in this case I thought it made a lot of sense.

Some tags: @marypsue, @tejoxys, @bowlingforgerbils, @linddzz

[antimonyandthyme]

Tagged by the lovely @badboy-george and @rosyjuly for the 20 questions for fic writers game, thank you! <33

1. How many works do you have on AO3?

62!

2. What’s your total AO3 word count?

196,925

3. What fandoms do you write for?

Currently it's only F1, but I've written for a bunch of anime fandoms like Haikyuu! and Daiya no Ace (even in anime I can't escape sports) and Naruto of course. And some movie ones like Tenet. And some random others. Like the Epic 7 and Fire Emblem game.

4. What are your top 5 fics by kudos?

The Cloud That Settles (sewis), then If You Don't Play, You'll Never Win (lestappen), then Treading Softly in My Head (martian), then All the Miles We Have to Shed (martian), then Shutter Speed (martian). Special mention to the sixth in line But I Exist to Serve the Master, which I think was the first fic up on ao3 for The Gentlemen (2019) fandom kekekeke.

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

Yes, absolutely. I have a backlog at the moment which I feel a little guilty about because I want anyone who's commented to know their words and thoughts are so beloved to me, and sometimes when someone leaves a wonderfully thoughtful comment it takes me ages to respond because I want to respond in kind.

6. What is the fic you wrote with the angstiest ending?

Spring Cleaning (maxiel) or this prosenna tumblr ficlet

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

Hmm. Looking through my fics I realize they often end on a very happy, resolved, or hopeful note. It'd be tough for me to choose the happiest. Maybe Down in the Depths We Make Our Home (sebchal pacific rim au), just for how complete it felt at the end.

8. Do you get hate on fics?

Not in the traditional sense, like I hate your writing! kind of thing. I've had some odd comments that I genuinely think weren't meant to be mean but have made me question some aspects of my writing, and I've learned to take those in stride. I'm also very very lucky to be surrounded by beloved people who have everlasting patience for my huehuehues.

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

Kekekeke. Y E S. I love doing so. I'm not sure I can describe what kind, I'm into so many flavours. The really, really horny kind? *me scrolling through my ao3* Oh wow yes the really, really, really horny kind.

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

I have not! Only AUs at the moment. The craziest AU I've ever thought of was probably an F1 Chainsaw Man AU.

11. Have you ever had a fic stolen?

I don't believe so!

12. Have you ever had a fic translated?

Yes! I've had If You Don't Play, You'll Never Win and Melt Your Aches and Call This Home (a baseball anime fic) translated into Chinese. Reading them has been a delight and a lesson all in one!

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

No, but I am in talks with... some beloved people...

14. What’s your all time favourite ship?

All time! Hmm. Hmm! Naruto/Sasuke my og pairing probably. But Martian and Sebmick are right up there too.

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

Huehuehue. I have a bunch languishing in my drafts at the moment. Rosquez, seb4seb, sebastidan wips are most in danger because my interest in them crests super hard one day and wanes the next. *sees a gif* *is inspired* *sees a gif of something else* *forgets*

16. What are your writing strengths?

Narrative voicing I think? A very clear, defining character arc. I've been told the porn's pretty good too, while being very emotional.

17. What are your writing weaknesses?

Long fic. Ah, geez. There are so many stories in my head that could only be done justice if I had the patience to take my time with it, put in the hours, put in the words, put in the work. But I'm very easily distracted by shiny things unfortunately. I also worry I write the characters the same across fics. Like my Sebs, I worry that he's getting a little too consistent and predictable even in vastly different works.

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

I probably wouldn't, I would worry too much about whether I got the nuances and grammar and structure and voicing right.

19. First fandom you wrote for?

Probably Naruto?

20. Favourite fic you’ve written?

This changes depends on the day you ask. At the moment it's actually my prosenna tumblr fics, which upon every reread I find myself liking more. (The real fave fave fic is something I chatficced with @rosyjuly that I hope will one day see the light of day)

No pressure tagging if you'd like to play! @sebrrari @effervescentdragon @ayceeofspades @loveisworry @wewentcarracing

[doodledrawreblogs]

20 questions for fic writers

tagged by @urmomsonfire thanks kale!! sorry it took so long but I am now using this as a way to procrastinate thinking about my exam later alsfjkdgsd

1. how many works do you have on Ao3? currently 23!! and counting if I ever edit the two I finished during nanowrimo

2. what's your total Ao3 word count? 140,348 (this is such a cool stat that I didn't know existed!!)

3. what fandoms do you write for? I've published fic for Top Gun, Ted Lasso, Star Wars, and I have a Mission Impossible fic in the drafts ;))

4. what are your top five fics by kudos?

Good Old-Fashioned Lover Boy (G, icemav, 18k) - 2,979 kudos

I fought with you, fought on your side (G, icemav + daggers, 20k) - 1,683 kudos

for here I am sitting in my tin can (strike him down) (G, icemav, 7k) - 964 kudos

and ease my mind (G, icemav, 533) - 947 kudos

so put me where I belong (G, mavdad, 3k) - 853 kudos

5. do you respond to comments? I try so hard to reply to comments, especially when fics are first published, and when I remember later I try to get back and reply to any new ones!! often I forget (and trust me when I say there's a graveyard of Ao3 new comment emails in my inbox), but every comment really does mean a lot to me and I'm very grateful that anyone would be so willing to share their enjoyment of a fic that way!! so thank you if you have commented :D

6. What is the fic you wrote with the angstiest ending? Honestly, I don't think any of them have had an angsty ending lol. Angsty middle, maybe, but I can't leave any fic on a sad note haha

7. What’s the fic you wrote with the happiest ending? ooo honestly I think it might be "I'm getting old and I need something to rely on", because it really is the one where icemav had to WORK for their happy ending....sort of slkfjdg

8. Do you get hate on fics? I don't think I have? at least not where I can see it haha

9. Do you write smut? If so, what kind? nope, I can't do it lol

10. Do you write crossovers? What’s the craziest one you’ve written? heck yeah!! currently working on an icemav star wars one that's making me very happy :D

11. Have you ever had a fic stolen? I don't...think so?

12. Have you ever had a fic translated? yes, I have! one of my earlier star wars ones was translated, that was really nice of them :D

13. Have you ever co-written a fic before? nothing that's seen the light of day pfff but I have worked on ideas with friends before!!

14. What’s your all time favorite ship? all-time??? I don't know if I've been shipping things long enough to have an all-time fav lol. In terms of ships I often go back to: elizabeth/darcy, icemav (obviously), codywan

15. What’s a WIP you want to finish but doubt you ever will? the dagger san diego zoo field trip. It's been in my drafts since early summer '22 and....it's still there lol

16. What are your writing strengths? uhhhhhhhh I honestly have no idea. Rule of threes maybe? I love doing sentences that end with x, y, z. And I think I'm good at writing banter

17. What are your writing weaknesses? metaphors, I think? Sometimes they just happen though idk

18. Thoughts on writing dialogue in another language in fic? I'd only feel right doing it if it was a language I knew well or had a consultant, I guess?

19. First fandom you wrote for? percy jackson lol

20. Favorite fic you’ve written? Again, idk if I can have an all-time fav, but as for recent fic: good old-fashioned lover boy has a special place in my heart, and so does my macheresin hockey fic: and you're right here :D

no pressure tagging @adiduck @goddammitjim @starrybouquet @enthyrea @oathkeeperoxas @boasamishipper :D