#fanfiction has eaten my brain

[sylphidine]

20 Questions For Fic Writers

I was tagged by both @gretchensinister and @insufferablearchanist and am thus compelled by their charm and glamour to surrender my secrets! [grin]

1. How many works do you have on AO3?

93 at last count. It will probably stay at that number until 31 March 2024, which is when ROTG Hope Week starts. [I get a lot of mileage out of fandom events that are prompt-based.] My goal between now and the month of March is to complete or add to the chapter count of at least three of the multiple-chapter longfics I've got in various states of progress.

2. What’s your total word count?

AO3 says it's 220,945. I don't know if that counts chapters saved in draft on several of my works, which act as notes files for me. So I'm going to underestimate by a lot and say my word count is more than 200K and will leave it at that.

3. What fandoms do you write for?

I'm most well-known for fics in the RISE OF THE GUARDIANS/GUARDIANS OF CHILDHOOD fandom and its subfandom Nightmare Dork University. in the last two years I've ventured into writing fics set in the milieu of DELTARUNE [the videogame by Toby Fox], but those fics are so far into the realm of AU country that I can't claim to "write for the DELTARUNE fandom".

4. Top 5 fics by kudos?

A CITIZEN OF THE UNIVERSE AND A GENTLEMAN TO BOOT, which is the first fanfic I posted on AO3 and is still in progress. It's set after the ROTG movie and involves plot threads from the GOC books, as well as featuring several characters from the Rankin/Bass holiday specials.

"Fleecy Shining Streaming Gleaming/Gimme A Mare With Hair", a giftfic based on a prompt from the ROTG Kinkmeme on Dreamwidth from years agone. Still in progress; my giftee is ***extremely*** patient. [sob]

[[ATTIC]] [[NEST]] [[HOME]], my first DELTARUNE fanfic, set in an AU created by @penbwl and featuring the Swatchton pairing.

"A Temptation Averted", set in my Six Guardians AU series, and apparently everybody's favourite of my ROTG Blackice stories, probably because it's so schmoopy.

CALL SIGNS. Ah, CALL SIGNS. The mammoth fic that has eaten most of my current brain capacity, to the point where I have dreams about it. [and plans for sequels] It was supposed to be so simple. A "what if" story where two DELTARUNE characters met in a human!AU and at a different point in their timelines than they did in-game. Then it suddenly roared to life as a whole sequence of events lifted from my own experiences, spread out over an ever-increasing number of protagonists, not to mention featuring cameos from NDU characters. I wrote it to be accessible to people who haven't played the game and had no familiarity with the characters, and I've been told I've succeeded. I expect it will move up in the kudos count the longer it runs... so far it's the highest word-count work I have ever written. EVER.

5. Do you respond to comments?

99.9999% of the time, yes. [see the answer to questions 8 and 11]. I love comments... short comments, long comments, comments that are nothing but emojis and keysmashes, comments that are well-thought-out analyses. As long as the comment is offered in good faith, I'll answer it.

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

If we're being strictly literal with the use of the word "ending", then it's a toss-up between "His Days Like Crazy Paving", "Exit", and "Making Fire".

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

So many of my stories are windows into my characters' "middles", rather than having narrative endings, and I tend to the fluph side of the writing scale. So here's a sampling of one-shots that conclude on a happy note... "Caterpillar", "Starmeadow", "Your First Memory Of All", "Bedtime Story", and "Centres Small And Still".

8. Do you get hate on fics?

I've never gotten out-and-out hate on fics. I *have* had someone react negatively when they wanted to use my comment space to plug fics they had written in fandoms I wasn't interested in and I said as much in reply.

9. Do you write smut?

On occasion. I *enjoy* smut... a lot... but I read more smut than I write. "The Joy Of First Flight" is probably my most explicit work to date, and even that is not terribly steamy.

10. Do you write crossovers?

Again, on occasion. CITIZEN ended up being a crossover about halfway in, surprising me rather completely. CALL SIGNS features cameos from other fanon characters, but isn't technically a crossover. AND FEAR AS MY COMPANION is the only work I've written with the initial intent of being a crossover between RISE OF THE GUARDIANS and DOCTOR WHO.

11. Have you ever had a fic stolen?

Not that I'm aware of. I **have**, however, fallen victim to being fooled by AI bots writing what I thought were truly sincere and sweet comments, which I foolishly answered before realizing the truth. Still kicking myself for how gullible I was, but it was at a low point in my confidence as a writer and I was starved for reassurance.

12. Have you ever had a fic translated?

Into a language other than English? Not that I've been informed about. However, someone did make a podfic of my drabble "Hope In A Storm", if that counts as "translation" rather than "transformation".

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

I've collaboratively tossed ideas around with @ksclaw and @piratekingpitchblack that have made their way into character development and plotlines for more than a few Nightmare Dork University stories.

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

HOW CAN I CHOOOOOOOOOOOOSE?

The one that started it all, that punched me in the gut not even twenty minutes after I saw RISE OF THE GUARDIANS for the first time, was Blackice. I devoured then and continue to devour now every Blackice shipfic I can get my little paws on. From there, once I found the NDU subfandom, it was NDU StageFright all the way, although it's now running neck-and-neck with NDU Nightmare Galleon as far as fics I've written. And currently, I have a very active Tumblr tag labelled "i have fallen down the swatchton sinkhole don't even try to rescue me", if that gives any hints.

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

I am realllllllllllllllllllly hoping that I can get inspiration for "Sweater Weather" going again.

16. What are your writing strengths?

RESEARCH.

17. What are your writing weaknesses?

Falling into the timesink that research leads to. [sob]

18. Thoughts on writing dialogue in another language?

That hasn't come up in any of my fics so far, other than throwing gratuitous Italian into dialogue for my OC Mama Michelina.

19. First fandom you wrote for?

If you don't count the self-insert novelization of YELLOW SUBMARINE that I wrote when I was fourteen, then ROTG would be the first fandom I've written for.

20. Favorite fic you’ve ever written?

That's a toughie. The most ***personally satisfying*** fics I've written have been "Deal The Cards", which is a love letter to one of my favourite relatives, now deceased, and "Which Witch", one of the few times a story came pouring out of me without needing to be edited to shreds.

I am hesitant to tag people because when I've done so in other ask games, it has often backfired on me. I love all my mutuals and don't want anyone to feel left out. Therefore.....

WHOEVER READS THIS AND WANTS TO PLAY, CONSIDER YOURSELF TAGGED.

[tathrin]

I'm going to be away for the weekend with probably little to no internet, and while my (overloaded) queue will continue to reblog amusement for y'all here, that also means that this is a great time for anyone here who hasn't already had enough gimleaf in your life (is such a thing even possible??? doubtful) to check out my fics, and ramble at me in the comments so when I come back too tired to write anything coherent, I can gush some giddy overtired nonsense back at you instead. Because that sounds like loads of fun to me.

[lushaletta]

the lamb and her wolf / tom riddle

pairing: tom riddle x fem!reader

content: muggleborn!reader, tom is goin a lil mad

summary: have you fallen into the dark lord’s trap, or has he fallen into yours?

a/n: i wrote this at 4 in the morning so enjoy this stream of consciousness grumpy x sunshine esque tom riddle fanfiction or something.

⋆ ࣪.  ⁺⑅ ⋰˚ *.ﾟ .˳⁺⁎˚ ˚⁎⁺˳ . ༺ ˖࣪ ˖࣪ ∗

Tom is in a frenzy of sorts, he’s concluded.

Perhaps it is the sleepless nights and stressful days that cloud his weeks that are causing the weird feeling in his chest. Insomnia-induced hysteria.

There’s a flurry of thoughts swirling around his head recently. All with a common theme; you. The space in his brain that he typically reserved for Ancient Runes or Arithmancy was now composed of you, you, and only you.

It makes him sick to his stomach.

He’s unfocused. And he can’t be, because he’s supposed to be working on the secret that Salazar Slytherin hid in the deep crevices of Hogwarts some years ago.

His fingers tap on the book that he can’t seem to pay attention to as he tries to make sense of this. The disgusting, awful, pleasant fondness he feels for you. For a Muggleborn girl no less.

The only solution to his problem is to kill you. It wouldn’t be hard, he thinks. You’re small and meek and all too trusting of him. Like a lamb to the slaughter.

You are a symbol of everything he despises. Joy. Innocence. You are of the same kind as his worthless father. So why is it that he can’t bring himself to end you? To end your time together? He’s done it before. He’s done it plenty of times and without a second thought.

“Tom!” your horrible, beautiful voice cheers, snapping him out of his thoughts. Oh, great, he thinks. You plague his mind and now you bedevil his reality.

“Hello,” he says after a beat.

You ignore his bothered expression and smile. “I’ve brought snacks! You do like mince pie, don’t you?” He nods weakly. “Good, because my mam’s had some sent. She’s trying out a new recipe. Secret ingredient or something like that. I’m sure you haven’t eaten yet, with your inane study habits, I mean, do you ever have breaks?” You ramble on and he listens with fascination. How could you be talking to him so casually? So endearingly?

You’re far from done. “It doesn’t matter, though. You’ll have a break now. Go on, put your book away, would you?” He does as told. He’s not sure why. You take a seat at his table, fumbling with the paper bag you’ve brought. “Aha! Mince pie! One for each of us. Tell me if you like it, I’ll have Mam send some more. She’d be delighted.”

It’s at this point, where he’s chewing on warm minced pie and watching you do the same, nodding contentedly, that he wonders which life decisions he’d made led up to this. He’s the Dark Lord. A name that the world will soon fear. If all goes to plan, you’ll be reading in terror of all the vile things he’s done in the paper. You’ll be afraid of him, and he can’t help dread it. He dreads the thought of your heartbroken eyes as you realise what a wicked person you’d extended your kindness to.

It’s the frenzy again. What is he even thinking? He dreaded nothing. He looked at his plans with excitement.

“Tom? Hellooo,” you say, singsongingly. He didn’t even realise you’d been speaking. He glances up at you and imagines what you’d think of him once the truth comes out.

“Yes?”

“What do you think? About the pie, I mean.”

He clears his throat, fingers gripping the armrest of his seat. “Good. It’s good.” That draws another pretty smile out of you and he really hates the way it made him feel. “Thank you.”

“You’re welcome! Also, Tommy,” He quirks his brow. The nickname was a slip of the tongue. You’d never used it and it made you nervous, but he didn’t seem to mind so much. “Are you busy later? I need some help with Transfiguration.”

He’s always busy. Well, he should be. He’s been slacking recently, too preoccupied with your freshly baked desserts and strawberry-smelling hair.

“I could make time for that,” he says decidedly.

Idiot. Idiot, idiot, idiot.

You’re immediately on your feet, giddy like how he’d imagine a child to be upon receiving candy. “Thank you! Oh, you’re a lifesaver, truly!” you say, and suddenly a kiss is planted on his cheek.

A full stop. His world pauses and spins on its axis. Your lips felt good. Bad.

What an evil, evil wolf he was.

[tathrin]

Soooo funny story but as it turns out, Sauron might in fact be a big fan of tea...isn't that right @chthonion?

Remember when it was such a thing to write fics with all these random characters from different stories all showing up/living in the author's house and it just generally being a load of shenanigans? Those were great actually.

[jillsandwhichs]

Cleon Oneshots/AUs, Chapter 24, Late night love

Masterlist

Pairing: Leon Kennedy and Claire Redfield

Summary: Claire is up late at night in the kitchen, raiding the fridge and doing paperwork. Leon eventually wakes up and sees her in their kitchen. From there, they become aroused and act out on it

Status of their relationship in this one shot: Engaged

WC: 2.5k

Type: NSFW

Warnings: Making out, Dirty talk, Breast play, Oral (Claire receives), Unprotected P in V, Kitchen sex, Stomach pressing, Size kink, He pulls out & finishes on her stomach, Clit rubbing, Aftercare

A/n: Hi! Hope you all enjoy. Please check out my masterlist, there's a lot of stuff there. You can get to know me, you can see the rules of my blog and then you can see all of my fanfictions. You'll be able to find the previous chapters to this fic and upcoming ones. You'll also be able to find my Wattpad & AO3. Comments, reblogs & likes are appreciated. Thank you

Claire opened the fridge and pulled the mint ice cream out. She's been craving it since this morning, but she tries not to eat anything super sweet. Placing it down on the table, she grabbed a spoon from the strainer and opened the container up before beginning to eat small scoops. It tastes delectable. She hasn't eaten anything since earlier this afternoon and now, it's almost midnight.

Late night snacking like this is always fun. Despite Claire living in her own house with her fiance, Leon, she still enjoys doing it. Currently, he is upstairs resting. That man had a long day today and there is no way she is disturbing him.

She continued to eat the ice cream. It's hard to put down. It tastes great. She sat down on top of the table, feeling odd whilst doing so, but then remembering only she and Leon live here, so who cares? She can do whatever she pleases. She giggled at the thought as she licked the contents from the spoon, in which tasted amazing, though a brain freeze overcame her as she laughed out.

After taking a few more bites, she hopped off of the table and closed the container of ice cream. She had a good bit and definitely doesn't need anymore. "Off you go." Claire hummed to herself as she opened the freezer door and stuffed the ice cream back in there. However, as she closed it, she noticed Leon trailing down the staircase, seeming oddly awake. Has he been up this entire time?

"Baby?" Claire called out, and Leon looked over at her. "Claire? Are you okay?" Leon questioned his fiance as he ambled over to her. "I'm perfectly fine. How about you? Have you been resting?" "I'm fine, just tired. What are you doing up, it's nearly," He glanced over at the clock and scoffed, "It is almost twelve. Come to bed sweetheart." Leon held his hand out. "No, that's okay, I plan to do some work down here before bed, so."

That, admittedly, upset Leon. He cherishes falling asleep beside her. It's soothing for him. "Let me guess, you're having sleeping problems again?" Aw shit, he can read her all too well. "Maybe a little bit..." "I'm sorry babygirl." Leon stepped closer to her and cupped her face before kissing her forehead gently, helping her feel comforted during her time of need. "I can join you upstairs if you'd really like me too." "I would... Just let me use the rest room first."

As Leon walked off, the smell of his faint cologne filled Claire's nose. She blushed and leaned back against the table, just intaking the smell. It's such a sexy scent he uses. She sighed softly and looked towards the bathroom door, waiting for him to come out. Smelling him like that and seeing how good he looked put her in the mood. She's also ovulating so it's no surprise. Unfortunately, he appears too tired. Claire will have to wait, sadly.

A minute or so later, Leon came out of the bathroom and walked back over to Claire. "You smell good baby." She laughed out, placing her hands upon his chest. "I do?" He sniffed his shirt, smelling the faint scent of his favorite cologne. "Oh, you're right." Leon snickered and set his hands up on her waist, caressing her gently and looking into her eyes. "You do too... Like cherries." "Heh, well, I put perfume on after my shower earlier." "Ah," he nodded, seeing why now.

Claire stood up on her tippy toes and pressed a kiss to Leon's lips. He breathed in sharply and kissed her back, his hands tightening on her hips as the kisses intensity increased. He chuckled and pushed her against the kitchen table, his hands trailing down to her rear now. "How tired are you?" Claire asked him, her tone low and soft. "Tired... But not tired enough to not fuck you." He smirked and slipped his tongue into her mouth.

She accepted him and giggled as he lifted her up, setting her down on the table. "You're so beautiful." He complimented her as he kissed her again, this time shoving his tongue alongside hers. She moaned and spread her legs slightly, then feeling Leon's hardness press against her. She pulled away for a moment to laugh and catch her breath. "I'm so wet already." She whispered, biting her lower lip. Leon smiled and started to kiss her neck, "I love how easily I get you going."

It's true — he does. Claire falls under a spell of ecstasy with Leon. He's perfect at everything he does to her. Claire immediately feels lustful when he begins to enact it and as for love, anytime she's with him she feels it. Whether or not they're mad at one another or simply being distant, the love is there and it is strong. Claire whimpered and leaned her head back furthermore, providing Leon with more space.

His hands went down to her pants. "Up sweetheart." Claire knew what he meant. She lifted herself up a bit and helped Leon pull her pajama pants off. As they hit the kitchen floor, a gust of cool air hit her thighs, causing faint leg airs to uprise. "Too cold? I'll take you to our room." "No need, I'm fine." Claire smiled and kissed Leon's cheek. "Take your shirt off." She mumbled, and Leon obliged. His shirt was off in seconds and Claire's fingertips traversed down his chest and to his abs, outlining the lines of them.

"Like what you see?" Claire snorted at his words, "Shut up." She laughed out and stopped touching his torso and instead, threw her own shirt off, leaving her in a red & black VS set that she bought just for moments like these — ones where their desires are able to be acted out. "Just look at you." His hands went to her waist, touching her divinely, "You're very gorgeous." Claire blushed at his words. "Thank you baby." She whispered.

His pants soon too came off and ended up scattered on the floor with the rest of their clothing materials. Claire wrapped her legs around his waist as they continued to make out. Their sessions of just straight kissing never fail to turn her on to the max. "I'll take this off now." He smiled, kissing her lovingly as he, with one hand and just two fingers, snatched her bra off, revealing her plump breasts, which made him smirk like a school boy.

Leon pulled his head down to her breasts where he then began to suckle on them. He took turns with each breast, making sure to take his time on each. Anytime he'd hit a sensitive spot, Claire swears she could feel herself dampen. "Oh Leon," she whimpered, her pussy aching for him at this point. "Fuck, I need you." Claire whined out, kissing the top of his head as his head trailed down her body before he was face to face with her crotch.

She blushed and looked to the side as Leon brought her panties down to her ankles, smirking at the sight before him. "You smell so good." Leon wasted no time. His lips trailed along her thighs, kissing, biting and licking them. All of the making out and this is getting Claire so worked up. Foreplay is a tool of magic. "Mmm baby, just eat me out." Claire said with a chortle, her fingers in his hair.

Leon stopped for a moment before whispering, "As you wish." And beginning to feast on her. Claire gasped and her legs tightened around his head. "Shit Leon!" She moaned and dug her fingers into his hair. His wet, needy tounge flared on her clit, eating her out at a speed in which Claire didn't know he could even meet. The sounds of his slurping her up were enticing and all Claire could do was watch and moan, being as responsive as he likes.

She spread her legs a bit more, giving Leon more room. All he did was continuously eat her out, pleasuring her beyond belief. "Oh I love you so fucking much." Claire laughed out, but it was in a breathless & desperate manner. Leon smirked but Claire couldn't tell considering his tongue was probing her clit and folds, using it to fondle her well and to the point of eventual orgasm.

"Leon, baby, I'm gonna cum soon." Claire pulled on his hair a bit harder. Leon took this as a sign to slow down, but only a bit. Claire bit her lower lip and adjusted her legs on his shoulders. All she could do was watch him in awe. The man really knows what he's doing. "Mmm." She moaned softly and gazed at him. His tongue began to pick up a bit in speed as he realized there was no stopping her from finishing what he infact started.

His tounge went after her clit numerous times. He suckled & slurped on it, causing Claire's body to tighten and her body to also shake. It's all so good, too good. Leon is like a fucking professional with his tounge. "Oh shit," she closed her eyes and her thighs gouged around his head as his movements picked up and became more erratic. "I'm... I'm cumming." And just like that, she was.

Leon pulled away shortly after she came down from her high. Claire's body was still shaking and there was a pool of wetness between her legs, but it all went down in good fun. He licked his lips before kissing her gently, pulling away with a smirk. "How was that dear?" "Amazing," she said breathlessly, her fingers tucking into the waistband of his boxers. "But now I really need you to fuck me up." Claire snickered.

The man took that as a challenge.

Without further ado, Leon pulled his underwear down, revealing his hard dick. It's so hard, and it's just for her. Minor amounts of pre cum dripped from his tip, simply showing how badly he yearns for her. "You're ovulating, aren't you?" "I am." "Fuck." That's not good. They ran out of condoms from the last time they fucked. "I'll have to pull out." He sighed deeply as he pumped himself a few times. "Fine by me." Claire trusts Leon.

He kissed her once again before slightly spreading her legs. "You're so wet." He smirked and rubbed his tip up and down between her folds. Claire seethed in deeply as she felt him do that, his tip teasing her sensitive nub. "That I am." She laughed out awkwardly. Anytime Leon talks dirty, it flusters her, she just can't help it. He kissed her once more before finally pushing himself inside of her, each inch of him slipping in slowly.

Claire sighed deeply and held onto the edge of the table. "How's that?" He asked her, stilling himself within her. "It feels good baby, it really does." She's not exaggerating either, it feels fantastic. Leon nodded and started to move again. His movements were slow and deep, but passionate and willing. Claire sighed softly and held onto the table with a tighter grip, knowing that real soon, the table will be shaking, along with herself.

Leon kissed her cheeks gently, eventually moving down to her neck. All Claire could do was allow it with grace. Leon's kisses as he thrusts into her are sensual and needy; Claire absolutely loves them. She moaned loudly as Leon began to pick up in speed, the table started to slightly move as he did. She looked down and giggled, realizing Leon wasn't going to be gentle, despite his exhaustion. "Oh I love you." She laughed out as she tilted her head back, just entirely allowing Leon to do whatever he pleases with her.

He smirked and pushed her down a bit, having her back rest against the table. She opened her eyes and looked up at him. She encased her legs around his torso as he began to move more roughly now. The sounds of his cock plunging into her were loud and echoed throughout the kitchen and into the living room. "You're so pretty." One of his hands held onto her thigh, the other resting upon her lower stomach.

"It feels so... Big... Inside of me." She gasped as his movements became sloppier and his grunts & groans were louder. "Do you like that though?" Leon murmured, pounding into her whilst smirking. "Uh-huh." She nodded and bit her lip. Leon pressed down on her stomach and Claire moaned, her legs tightening around him and not only that, her legs becoming more forceful. "You take it so good." Leon chuckled out as he watched his fiance before him.

"Baby," Claire moaned and closed her eyes, her hands holding onto the table for dear life, "Harder." She managed to utter out. Leon didn't say anything, instead, he railed her as hard as he could, his hand pressing on her lower stomach which only enhanced the feeling. She opened her eyes widely and looked at his hand. "Why does that... Why does that feel so good?" She whined out, looking down at his member that was stroking into her.

Leon closed his eyes momentarily and tilted his head back. This is the life. Fucking his fiance, his soon-to-be wife on their very own kitchen table is erotic and sexy. He opened them back up and silly gazed at her. Just looking at her is enough to send him over the edge. "I'm gonna cum." He stopped pressing on her stomach and simply began to fuck her as hard as humanly possible.

With Leon grunting, Claire whimpering and the table shaking, it was all a recipe for finishing. "Fuck," Leon swiftly pulled out of Claire and came all over her lower stomach, his fluids coating her slim tummy. As he came, his thumb ran over her clit numerously in attempts to have Claire finish — and it worked. Claire's body shook and she moaned as her orgasm hit her once again. "Oh fuck me." Claire held onto the table as she dispersed from reality momentarily.

As Claire was coming down from her high, Leon was back to being himself. He reached over and grabbed a rag, wiping his semen off of her stomach and picking her up into his arms. She was limp. Leon found it cute. "You with me babygirl?" "I'm tired now." She giggled and nestled against him, not caring about where he's taking her, whether it be the living room or their bedroom. "Dick will do that to you." He patted her rear.

They made it to their bed. Leon grabbed ahold of Claire and held her close to him, his hand caressing her back and his other hand on her waist, holding her close. Claire yawned and rubbed her head against his chest, the warmth was rather comforting. "Goodnight Leon." Claire whispersd before she eventually fell into a deep sleep. "Goodnight darling." Leon kissed the top of her head and eventually, he fell asleep as well.

[crunchyheartbeat]

Zombie apocalypse -Ghost-

TW: Zombies I guess It is a bit of a longer read compared to some of my other post.

This was hard, really hard in fact to wrap your mind around. Part of you was wondering if maybe you had lost your mind along the journey that you've had to take alone. Being left alone by isolating yourself on your own decision is one thing, but doing it because everyone you loved was taken from you by the dead, the biters, walkers, whatever the hell you want to call them, is something else interlay.

Your alone with a six foot zombie, covered in what seems to be army tactical gear and plenty of weapons on his body, just staring at you. Staring like your the only thing that is occupying the space in its brain.

Holding your knife tightly in one hand, crouched beside a couch hoping that it had missed your precense. You had killed the few zombies that were in the living room but you couldn't believe you somehow missed him. "Honestly it's over for" you thought to yourself. There is no way you can fight a zombie of his size. Maybe if you had better nutrition intake but up to this point all you have really eaten is bags of noodles and cans of beans.

He's not moving... He isn't attacking you... He is just staring...

As you slowly rise to your feet, your legs shaking and your knuckles turning white from holding your knife to tightly, you noticed that his jaw is broken. A bit of confidence makes you take a step backwards, trying to head to the door. If his jaw is broken then it will be harder for him to eat you.

As you slowly continue walking towards the door and looking at him, you see him slowly raise his arms. Eyes widening and a breath sucked in your ready to make the run the last bit of space that is left between you and the door. Counting the steps as you run. one. two. three. four. "waaagh" Stopping in your tracks and turning your head, you thought maybe you heard wrong. Did this thing just try to talk, just try to say wait. "waaagh" Soft and horse, it says it again. Eyebrows raising and fear striking through your body, you focus your attention to his arm, then his hand, then the bag of chips he seems to be holding in them.

"What do I do" You think to yourself. You are obviously imagining it, going crazy from the lack of anything social in your life up to this point. You've been surrounded by zombies for so long you think one is trying to be friendly. You watch as the zombie tosses the chips towards you. as far as it can throw with the few broken fingers it has. Another grunt passes the zombies lips, head jerking towards the chips, and walking towards the couch to sit down upon it. Lifting it's hand and patting the couch next to it to signal you to sit down.

If you would have known months ago when this outbreak started that you would come across a zombie that is capable of still holding on to some part of his past self then you wouldn't believe it, but being here with Ghost while he walks along side you, defending off any harmful things that you guys come across, your thankful for him.

So I have an absolute love for zombie ghost to begin with and I'm thinking of maybe adding a few more of these cause any zombie ghost fanfiction is French kiss not gonna lie. But I hope you enjoyed reading and let me know if you would like more of zombie ghost post!

[tripleglitchwriting]

You mentioned Ultra Magnus trying to cope with the world of One Piece and the Strawhat Pirates and I. Am. Here. For. It.

UM is a very ernest stressed out lawful good character. and the Strawhats are a chaotic good force. More Chaos than all the Wreckers and the Lost Light put together.

So in honor of that post If you don't mind me asking for two requests in one request box open run I'd like to request a One Piece/Lost Lighters crossover.

The Strawhats are helping The Lost Light crew because Luffy and Rodimus vibe. Roddy has a grand fleet flag and Luffy has a Rodimus star.

Either, Ultra Magnus/Minimus Ambus in a lull in the action asks Robin why she's a Strawhat Pirate. She's the only sane one here.

Or, if your in the mood for something lighter, Franky and Brainstorm Share The Brain-cell^TM while Usop and Perceptor attempt damage control.

YOU UNDERSTAND. YOU GET IT. I will be happy to write this!! I’m sorry it took me so long, I’ve been going through a rough patch when it comes to motivation.

The lost light characters may be a bit ooc because I’ve been having a hard time gauging their personalities. A lot of what I have for them in my head is from other fanfictions.

Also, this is just the start of the story, it’s just how they meet. I’ve yet to write specific interactions between characters, but I wholeheartedly plan to write more!

A little side note for clarification on One Piece in case anyone needs it:

- This takes place sometime after Jinbei gets on the ship

- I watch the dub so I’m going to use all of the names and such they use there (ex. Black foot Sanji -> Black leg Sanji)

- Sanji and Brook will be normal to women. I just don’t want to write them being weird.

Without further ado, I present…

Ten Idiots Meet A Ship Full Of Other Significantly Bigger Idiots

Synopsis:

After an experiment gone bad on the Lost Light (again), a portal is temporarily opened up to another dimension. Before it could be closed, however, a group of strange individuals manage to slip through.

After a long day at sea, The Strawhats always look forward to a first-class home cooked meal by Sanji himself. It was a beautiful evening- the crew opted to stay out on the deck of the Sunny to watch the sunset.

“SANJI! I’M HUNGRY! FOOD! NOW!” Not that much peace could be had with a captain like Luffy.

“I’m coming! Not every cook can whip up something like this every night you know. I swear, you guys eat more than a whole island every day.”

“Hey, that’s just Luffy. Don’t include the rest of us in this!” Nami shouted from the stairs leading to where the rest of the crew sat.

“I’M YOUR CAPTAIN AND I SAY FEED ME! MEAT! MEAT! MEAT!” Luffy pumped his arms as he chanted, sticking his tongue out as he watched Sanji cart out a giant platter of cartoonishly large meat.

“Smells as delicious as ever, Sanji.” Brook commented.

“Thank you, Brook. At least someone appreciates my food around here.” He glared at his captain, who was completely oblivious to everything else around him and solely focused on his food. Everyone else chatted away. Laughing, eating, looking up at the beautiful swirling vortex that had just appeared in the sky.

Wait.

Luffy had to stretch his arms up as his food began to be sucked into the portal above them, but it was in vain as he began to float too. The Sunny creaked as gravity shifted around them, everything but the ship itself beginning a startling ascent upwards.

“MY MEAT! NAMI, WHAT IS HAPPENING?”

“How should I know?!” She clung to an uprooting tangerine tree, “This is NOT normal! I haven’t read anything about whatever this is!”

“Everybody hang on to something!” Jinbei ordered, staring to float himself. Brook didn’t seem to get the message, as he was the first to loose his grip.

“SOMEBODYHELPMEIMBEINGPULLEDIN—”vwoop! And then he was gone.

“BROOK!” Luffy, having already eaten everything on his plate, launched himself into the portal.

“Damnit Luffy!” Zoro did the same soon after.

“What? Are we seriously going in that thing?” Chopper squealed, Usopp and Nami seemed to agree.

“Maybe we’ll all be immediately killed once we enter. It would be a painless death at least.” Robin said calmly, affixing herself to the ground with her devil fruit powers.

“YOU ARE NOT HELPING!” Usopp, Nami, and Chopper all screamed in unison.

“I suppose this is our next adventure!” Jinbei leapt through the portal. Sanji sighed and followed after him.

“Well, Sunny’s too big to go through that thing, so I guess we’re goin’ in without her.” Franky detached himself from the mast.

“Okay everyone, come on.” Robin peeled Usopp, Nami, and Chopper from their death grips on the ship and took all of them with her as she joined the rest of the crew.

“ROBIN WHY-“ Vwoop! And just like that, the Thousand Sunny was left empty.

————————————

Brainstorm was in big trouble. And possibly the entire Lost Light. And maybe the universe. The good news is his portal machine worked! The bad news is it was now pulling in random things from a random space in the multiverse. This would be a great opportunity to study it, unfortunately the stability of the thing was questionable. That is to say the portal was currently beginning to implode.

“Brainstorm, what are you doing!?” Preceptor skidded into the room right as he heard the snapping and crackling of something that probably shouldn’t be making that sound.

“Oh, nothing. It’s fine! It’s fine. I just need to- oh that’s not good. Actually do you mind helping me shut this down before it destroys the entire ship?”

“You’re going to be the death of all of us-” right as he began to walk toward the vortex, a screaming clatter of something came speeding out of it. On closer inspection, it seemed to be the corpse of a human.

“Oh, well, that’s new.” Brainstorm oh so helpfully commented. Just after another being came from the portal, also screaming but not quite as dead. Another followed, this one with a complete and utter look of annoyance on his face.

“What in the- Brainstorm, what did you do?” Ratchet entered, as did Ultra Magnus.

Soon there was an array of things entering the room. Aside from the array of random objects, there was a large blue organic followed by an another human wearing a black suit, then large possibly techno organic. Four other small people shot out shortly after.

“CLOSE IT! CLOSE IT NOW!” Ratchet ordered.

“Oh why didn’t I think of that- oh wait, I did, and I COULD USE SOME HELP!” Together they pulled on a comically large mad scientist like lever affixed to the portals control panel. As quick as it had arrived the portal was gone, though what- or who- it had just pulled in were gaining their bearings.

“Hahahaha! That was fun!” One of the humans, one wearing a yellow hat with a red line across it, put his hand on his head and looked around. It took him a second to notice, but when he finally realized where he was the man yelled, “WOAH! Cool! This place is huge!”

“It seems to be some sort of… metal building. A giant workstation perhaps.” The blue man said thoughtfully.

“Well I say we get out of here! I don’t want to be around when we find out why this place needs to be so big!” A long-nosed human whisper shouted.

“What, like those freaky statues?” The very annoyed man gestured at Brainstorm, Ultra Magnus, Ratchet, and Preceptor, who were all standing completely still. That is, until Rodimus showed up.

“Brainstorm, I heard yelling, is there a fight? Without me?” He strolled in casually, not looking at the floor, and instead focusing on his crew who were all staring at him. “What? What did I do?”

“That. Is. AWESOME!” Something from the floor shot up at Rodimus’s face. “Are you a robot? Can you shoot lasers? Do you eat metal?!” Somehow, someway, there was an ecstatic human right in front of his optics.

“Luffy! Get down from there!”

“Woah. So, care to explain? Anyone?”

“We are not robots, we are Cybertronian.” Ultra Magnus automatically stated.

“Cool!” ‘Luffy’, as his friend called him, somehow managed to launch himself on top of Rodimus’s helm. “Is there any food here?”

“Luffy! Damnit-” Another of the humans, the one in the suit, jumped. Accept when one would normally begin to succumb to gravity and fall back down, he took another step in the air and kept going. “You are so reckless!” The man tackled Luffy off Rodimus and they both began to plummet down to the ground- a height deadly to something so small.

“Sanji, let me down! I want to talk to the robot!”

“How about you shut up and come up with a plan before you get us all killed!” The moment they jumped off, Ratchet was already in motion. He was able to dive behind Rodimus to catch the two, but as he slid on the ground to save them ‘Sanji’ jumped off the air again and landed perfectly safe.

“I… I can’t even begin to explain this.” He admitted in a completely defeated tone, now chassis down on the floor.

“Do they all move?” A small voice whispered from the group still standing where the portal once was.

“I hope not.” Another replied.

“Wow. I wasn’t expecting that.” Brainstorm said calmly.

“I don’t think anyone could have predicted this.” Ultra Magnus put his servo on his helm. The two that had just survived a deadly landing like it was nothing walked back to their group- one much more unhappy than the other.

“Sorry about him. He does this a lot.” The annoyed green haired man glared at both of them.

“Oh, like you’re any better moss head.”

“Oh yeah? At least I didn’t jump in the face of a giant robot!”

“Yeah, cause you’d get lost on the way there!”

“You take that back-“

“STOP IT!” Half of the new arrivals shouted at the same time. One orange haired girl stepped up to comfort the bickering duo.

“This is not the time to argue! We’re kind of… we- look!” She gestured at, well, everything. Everyone else seemed to silently agree.

“Greetings visitors from another world! Welcome aboard the Lost Light!” Brainstorm announced with a flashy arm movement.

“Hey, I’m the captain, I get to welcome people into the ship!”

“You’re a captain?! Is this a pirate ship? Are you giant robot pirates?!” Luffy shouted in awe, though still in the arms of Sanji, who promptly dropped him.

“He said he was ‘Cybertronian’ bro. Not a robot.” The probably techno organic chastised.

“Psh, whatever.” Luffy got himself to his feet.

“We are not pirates.” Ultra Magnus said very sternly. “We are on a perfectly legal exploratory expedition.”

“Oh, bummer.” He glanced around once again. Apparently deciding now was a good time, he introduced himself. “My name is Monkey D. Luffy and I’m gonna be King of the Pirates!” Luffy smiled brightly and giggled, either ignoring or disregarding his friends facepalms.

“Well, I’d say this was a great success!” Brainstorm cheered to himself. “Who knew that was possible! I really am a genius.”

“And who are you?” ‘Moss head’ sneered at him. “Who are any of you? This is weird.”

“Well, if I’m allowed to introduce my own ship this time, my name is Rodimus Prime, captain of the Lost Light!”

“Hang on, this is your ship? How did you build something like this, it looks like it’s straight outta Vegapunk’s lab! What part of the world are we in anyway?” The blue hair techno organic asked, putting his oversized hand on his strangely shaped chin.

“Space, my friend. We’re in space. Honestly, I wasn’t sure if anything living would make it through that portal. Looks like it’s got about a 9 out of 10 survival rate which is better than most multidimensional portals I’ve seen. That is to say I’ve never seen one before, because I built the first one. Just now. No need to congratulate me.” Ignoring Brainstorm’s blatant narcissism, the of new arrivals looked absolutely flabbergasted by this information.

“We’re in space? Like, space space? Outer space?” Luffy asked with eyes wider than any moon, a big bright burning ball of excitement building in his chest.

“I assume you’ve never been off your planet before?” Perceptor asked. Luffy didn’t respond this time. He looked like he was about to burst with excitement, though his crew mates didn’t seem to pay much mind. One or two of them shook their heads in response to the question. “Well, Brainstorm, care to explain what you’ve done here?”

“What I’ve done- well, if you have the mental capacity to understand- I can give you a basic rundown. I’ve designed this portal to reach into alternate dimensions, which have hardly been confirmed to exist other than the dead universe. I’ve been worked steadily on it for a while now, and today I tested it out. It brought these ten organics here as well as some other junk.”

“Brainstorm.”

“Yes?”

“You mean to tell me, you turned on an untested and extremely dangerous machine that could obliterate our entire existence within nanokliks for no reason other than bragging rights? And when it miraculously did work, you pulled in ten random people from an unknown possibly incredibly dangerous world that could have also imploded our entire existence?”

“Yes that about sums it up.” Perceptor’s optic twitched, but as it seemed time was moving a bit too fast for him to start lecturing. The corpse on the floor began to move, slowly at first, and then in a sharp practiced motion it popped up on its feet.

“Yohohoho! I think I passed out for a second there!” The skeleton looked around. “Oh. I definitely passed out. No bones about it!” The apparently not corse laughed to himself.

“Cool! I didn’t think those human stories about corpses coming back to life were real!” Rodimus said with a childlike playfulness.

“They’re not.” Ultra Magnus argued bluntly.

“Oh, I am a skeleton. It’s a long story. Say, Luffy, what is going on?”

“We got sucked through a portal and now we’re talking to giant robot guys.”

“Oh okay.” The skeleton nodded, and then quickly scurried to where three of the other humans (and animal thing?) were huddled.

“Well, remind me to change that to a 10 out of 10 survival rate!”

“I feel like introductions are in order here…” Perceptor stated, “I’ll go first. My name is Perceptor. I’m a scientist. Now, you.” He gestured at Brainstorm.

“Well, if you insist. I am Brainstrom. Genius inventor of the machine that brought you all here.”

“I am the duly enfor- ah, I mean Ultra Magnus. I try to keep the peace around here.”

“You know me, I’m Rodimus.” He nudged Ratchet. “It’s your turn, doc.”

“Fine. I’m Ratchet. Retired head medical officer.“

“Cool names!” Luffy, having sprung back up, was jumping up and down. “This is my crew, the Strawhat Pirates!”

“Roronoa Zoro. Soon to be greatest swordsman and second hand man.” ‘Moss head’ introduced himself. The orange hair girl stepped out of the group.

“I’m Nami, the navigator.” The long nose man shakily emerged after her.

“I am commander Usopp! Best sniper in the world! I’m also the leader of one thousa-“

“Don’t even start.” The suit wearing man stepped up. “Sanji. I’m the crew’s chef.” The animal like thing approached from behind another crew member.

“Um, my name’s Chopper. I’m the doctor.” He tapped his hooves together nervously. A woman, one who hasn’t said much until now, patted the hat on his head in a compassionate manner.

“I’m Nico Robin, an archeologist.” She smiled sweetly and quickly got out of the way of the blue haired inhuman human man rushing to the front.

“Name’s Franky!” He struck a strange pose. “A SUPER good shipwright!” The skeleton stepped up beside him and did a short bow.

“My name is Brook. I am lucky to be the musician of this crew. It’s a pleasure to meet you.” When he stood up the large blue man stood beside him.

“I am Jinbe, the helmsman. It is a pleasure to meet you as well.” He bowed deeply.

“Now that we did that, do you guys have any food?” Luffy asked immediately and without hesitation.

The fifteen of them stood in Brainstorm’s mildly disfigured lab space, each with very different thoughts running through their heads. A new world, a new people, things most on the Lost Light never even imagined possible. From then on, the world got a little more chaotic.

[alsoeatingroses]

Hey I’m Noel! He/they, 27, trans masc, autistic

My last blog, @eatingrosescollab, was deleted for trans reasons I’m assuming (as well as my Elias Bouchard RP blog and forcemasc ones 😭 I’ve had trouble getting the energy to come back)

Most of my brain has been eaten by TMA fanfiction. You can find my AO3 here: EatingRoses (The majority of it is 18+ please be careful with yourselves).

So this blog will also be mostly TMA. Heavy TMA spoilers. I will tag Magnus Protocol stuff! And anything unrelated to TMA or fanfiction will be tagged #not tma.

I will NOT tag activism posts #not tma. I stand for free Palestine, queer and BIPOC rights, etc, and I am not ashamed of those.

If you are a Zionist, you are not welcome on my page.

Please feel free to reach out with any questions or concerns! And bear with me while I rebuild my tumblr empire (legit so sad I’m starting from the bottom omg).

[novastardoughnut]

head cannons for Limited Life timers

so people within the community drawing fanart and writing fanfiction have been giving each member of limited life clocks or timers customised for each player. and i want to share what i have in my brain for each members clocks and timers

Team Ties: most TIES members are redstoners and Technical Players thus in my head their watches represent that. Etho has an old fashioned clockwork stopwatch, Impulse has an LED Display wrist watch, Tango has a Nixietube watch and Skizzleman has a rather smart digital wrist watch. most of these watches are more advanced or technical matching their more technical play style

The Clockers: the clockers all have pocket watches. cleo has an old style victorian watch that goes at half speed (thus it reaches 12 at the end of the game. and 6 at half way through the game), BDubs has his typical minecraft style clock (ending when the clock turns full night) and Scar has a pocket watch with the cover and back showing an image of Jelly engraved.

The Nosey Neigbours: the nosey Neigbours watches are more interpretational using the conventional hand format but not denoting an exact time. BigB has a watch with every 2 hours denoted by the percentage of a cookie eaten ending at where 12 would be where there is no cookie and all that remains is crumbs. Pearl has a clock with each 2 hours is portrayed by phases of the moon, ending upon a full moon with the half way point being a new moon

The Bad Boys: the bad boys clocks are far more wacky and rebellious in that bad boys kinda way. Jimmy has an old fashioned alarmclock that clips to his belt (this harkens to miners who would use windup alarm clocks to tell them the time), when his time runs out the alarm rings out for all to hear, joel has an old Shrek themed wrist watch and grian has a somewhat magical, watcher amulet that tells the time among a shifting, swirling purple void.

the mean gills: both martyn and scott have sand timers. both very appropriate for their sandy beach/island appearance

[ellieellieoxenfree]

🍄 ❄️ 🧩

🍄 ⇢ share a head canon for one of your favourite ships or pairings

hghhhhhhh i should save all my juicy chenai ones for fics. but since most of them involve pre-canon timelines, i'll go with one of my old standbys for my favorite ships: food. i think ai di developed a really fucked-up relationship with food in prison -- not only a bland, tasteless utility rather than something eaten for pleasure, but also something he associates with danger due to the communal nature of mealtime. i think he spent all that time eating just enough to be able to stay alert, but forcing himself to get through it as quickly as possible so he could fully focus on protecting zong yi and watching for threats. and conversely, i think chen yi picked up a lot of cooking skills while ai di was inside, and he goes out of his way, especially in the early days, to make ai di's favorite dishes and try to help him work through all of the issues he clearly has but isn't talking about. as much as he would fight it, ai di wants to be cared for (on an extremely repressed level), and i'm a huge proponent of food as an act of love.

❄️ ⇢ what's your dream theme/plot for a fic, and who would write it best?

this is mean and you know it. :( i so so so so SO desperately crave that thematically rich, narratively probing character work for my kiseki boys. there's so much to pick apart and so many approaches you could take -- so many pieces of their pasts to fill in; so many missing scenes or scenes that would benefit from extra depth -- and i don't want to write it myself because i'm slow, my brain is bad, and also, i know exactly what i would write and so the element of surprise isn't there. unfortunately, i'm an exacting and demanding bitch so even if someone did write this dream fic, i would probably still find a reason to kvetch. i am permanently trapped in the 'i don't want to write it but no one is going to write exactly the fic i want to see unless i write it myself' hell and it is 100% a self-created problem. every day i'm self-owning.

🧩 ⇢ what will make you click away from a fanfiction immediately?

i'm VERY picky about authorial voice, and that goes for fic and published work alike. i have been known to drop books within a few paragraphs if the voice grates on me. (this is @ tim o'brien when i made it four paragraphs into america fantastica this morning and deleted it.) i see very stilted writing in fandom spaces that speaks to a certain level of insecurity and lack of practice, and i just can't do it. writing doesn't necessarily need to flow in a mellow fashion -- a choppy, staccato rhythm can be brutally effective -- but you can absolutely tell when someone has an underdeveloped authorial voice or is trying too hard to cultivate one they're not entirely comfortable with.

(in terms of developed authorial voice that i just cannot do, the two that immediately spring to mind are very smug, self-satisfied cleverness (people who grew up as teeaboos or who are constantly mimicking pterry or douglas adams) and extremely flowery language. get to the fucking point already!!)

i also will immediately tune out of something with bad grammar, especially inconsistent tense changes or dialogue that isn't punctuated correctly, OOC behavior (extremely vague umbrella term here, let's be real, but much like pornography, i'll know it when i see it), and repetitive word choice. i have closed out of fics for using 'the other man' or 'the blond' or 'murmured' so many times within a chapter that if i took up a drinking game while reading, i'd be dead of liver failure within 500 words.

i'm a huge snob and i never read anything, basically ¯\_(ツ)_/¯

[amywritesthings]

Hello Hello Hello-ween! 👻

This is Episode 1 (...dunno whether there will be more...) of

Oddly Specific Asks🗿✨️

where you will get oddly specific questions and choices that will tingle your pringle. Let's go!

1) Favorite line in Avatar: The Last Airbender?

2) Best Justin Bieber Song?

3) QUICK ROUND! Pumpkin Spice or Matcha Latte?

4) Favorite way to cut a sandwich?

5) Most annoying Anime character?

6) QUICK ROUND! Mint chocolate on pizza or cheesy pineapple on ice cream?

7) Rate yourself: How well would you perform with ODM gear? On a scale from Sasha's potato to Levi VS Beast Titan.

8) In a fight between a peanut, a pistachio and a macadamia nut - who would win and why?

9) QUICK ROUND! Never read FanFic again or never write FanFic again?

10) GET CREATIVE! Write a short dialogue between any AoT character and a mindless titan about the lastest hairstyles in Mitras. Add details of the titan's reaction as well as at least two rhymes.

Thanks for playing! If you enjoyed this stupid game my silly little brain has come up with, let me know in your answer and I will give you another round. I hope this made you smile at least a little!

Best,

a very weird German <3

hallo-sleepover '24! / accepting.

When I tell you that I just finished eaten a chicken pesto sandwich and opened my inbox and went my god. I am so game.

1) Technically, I have two because I'm a LoK truther as much as ATLA. Unironically, they're both Uncle Iroh. "Perfection and power are overrated. I think you are very wise to choose happiness and love instead." (ATLA) + "If you look for the light, you will often find it; but if you look for the dark, that is all you will ever see." (LOK)

2) I don't know many Justin Beiber songs, but one of my cardio classes once used "Friends" and it's such a good song.

3) Pumpkin Spice, I'll never choose anything different.

4) In half because I am lazy.

5) Bestie you're going to get me in trouble 😭 my heart says Eren from AOT (I'm sorry please don't add me to the weird yeagerist hit list) but I feel like the diplomatic answer is Mineta from MHA. I want that diaper grape eviscerated.

6) Mint chocolate on pizza. Something about a cheesy pineapple makes my texture sensitivity want to fly into the sun.

7) Without a threat? I'd be able to use ODM gear at like a confident 4 because I train with weights 6x a week, but the second you put a titan in front of me? -10. We're getting eaten, my friends. I am so bad with scary things.

8) I'm going to be so honest -- I have never eaten any of these LMAO so I'm going by name, and 'Amy Macadamia' sounds very Myspace to me, so I'm going to sit myself in the mac nut corner.

9) Never read fic again. I've been writing my own self-indulgent fanfiction since I was ten years old on every surface I could pen or type. There is no way I am giving up the ability to hide in my own little escapism world.

10) You're fucking crazy SKDJFKSDF ALRIGHT I DID MY BEST

Chewing on one-half of his slightly stale sandwich, Connie squints at the titan strapped down by Hange's latest invention. Surveillance shifts sucked, but not even the brainless could convince the boy not to talk.

"So... you got a whole head of hair. Wild. Kinda flowy, and stuff -- to be put it mild." He chomps down on another edge, speaking with his mouth full. "How'd you grow that out?"

The titan blinks right through Connie's sandwich, its tongue hanging out the side of his mouth.

"Or were you... uh, titan-born that way?"

Another blink.

Yeah. this conversation was going a whopping fuckin' nowhere.

"Thought about growing out my own situation." Connie holds up his free hand to pet it through his own buzzcut. "I'm not bald, for your information."

It didn't ask. Then again, Connie didn't ask to get put on this damn detail, so he keeps going. He puffs out his chest and considers.

"I know Jean's already growing out his mullet, but would that be copying if I did it, too? I mean Mitras has, like -- what, three good hairstyles right now?" He lists on his sandwich-slicked fingers. "Mullet, braid -- ew -- and the undercut thing. I'm not getting flack for copying Captain Levi, though. No, siree."

The titan gurgles, and Connie can't help but feel like it was big guy code for indifference to his plight.

"...damn, you're really no help."

[sarandipitywrites]

Writeblr Interview Tag

@cowboybrunch tagged me for this - thank you! Go read her responses here

Tagging @breath-of-eternity, @darkangel319, @kingragnarok-writes, @ryns-ramblings, @wildswrites, and an open tag for anyone who wants to answer! Copy/pasteable template's under the cut.

Short stories, novels, or poems?

Novels, both to read and write. I just don't tend to seek out short stories or poetry to read, for whatever reason (legitimately don't know why - I enjoy it when I do read it?), and whenever I try to write something a bit shorter, it quickly becomes... not shorter.

What genre do you prefer reading?

I'll read most genres, but it seems like I usually end up reading speculative fiction/sci fi/fantasy.

Are you a planner or a write as I go kind of person?

Planner - I usually want at least a rough outline of a scene before I start writing. I find that breaking the writing up into two steps takes the pressure off of the actual 'writing' part and lets me focus more on prose/characterization/the fun shit because Past Saran already did the hard part :P

What music do you listen to while writing?

Ambient music/sounds that 'fit' what I'm writing, lately with binauaral beats layered under it. Nothing with words. Words going in ears = no words coming out of fingers

Favorite books/movies?

Books? LOTS. No Gods, No Monsters; Frankenstein; The Heart Principle; Aristotle and Dante Discover the Secrets of the Universe; On Earth We're Briefly Gorgeous; No Longer Human; etc etc etc Movies? Spirited Away.

Any current WIPs?

Spark Signature (high fantasy sci fi heist thriller; most current WIP; I am presently being very annoying about it) The Art of Empty Space (fantasy/paranormal mystery romance; WIP intro is no longer accurate; on hold because it has mutated beyond my control and I am slightly afraid of it) Dead Roots, Dark Water (dystopian fantasy adventure; Jak & Daxter fanfiction; currently on final draft and being updated weekly) Ambition is a Lonely Tower (paranormal mystery thriler; literally have not worked on this since I started posting writeblr stuff so it doesn't have a WIP intro but I am not giving up on this damn it)

Create a character description of yourself: 

Constantly messing with something (hair, face, nails, the springy cat toy in the pocket of every single one of their jackets); gets anxious when they don't have earbuds or earplugs available; sits like a pretzel; forgets everything within 5 minutes if they don't write it down; avoids wearing "real people clothes" where possible; when forced to go outside, wears a t-shirt, baggy jeans, combat boots, and a jacket

Do you like incorporating actual people you know into your writing?

Technically no? I use pieces from actual people I know, for sure, but there's no one character who's 'basically x.' Now it sounds like I'm over here sewing together chimera characters from people I know, oof

Are you kill happy with your characters?

Depends on the story, I guess. Nobody's died (yet) in AES. Murder's kind of a whole Thing in Spark. And DRDW... uh. Let's not talk about that one (sorry, half of my OCs).

Coffee or Tea while writing?

Coffee in the morning, tea in the evening.

Slow or fast writer?

All or nothing! It really depends on: 1. whether or not I have an outline (scene-level outline = words go fast) 2. my headspace (Sludge Brain day = no words. Fuck your outline)

If you were in a fantasy world, what would you be?

I'd get eaten by a demonic chicken or some shit within like five minutes. Assuming I didn't have a horribly quick and embarrassing death, I'd like to be an alchemist or something like that. Give people those Good Plants

Most fav book cliche:

Enemies to lovers/friends, or friends to enemies, or really any big shift in relationship dynamic. Do that well and I love you and your characters forever

Least favorite cliche:

The 'if only they would talk to each other' thing - if one conversation that the characters are fully capable of having (but won't) is the only reason for the conflict, I'm out. Especially if there's no good reason for them to be avoiding the conversation. I'm not sure if this is even a cliche, but it's what I thought of :D

Favorite scene to write?

I love writing 'calm' scenes with tension just under the surface. And any scene that lets me fuck with perception/senses. Love it when a scene isn't straightforward

Reason for writing?

Lots of reasons! It's by far the thing I get the most satisfaction and enjoyment from; I get to write (and therefore read) the stories I want/need to read; free therapy supplement; I have lots of thoughts and ideas and little guys in my head and giving it all somewhere to go helps my brain be a lot quieter (it's still pretty noisy in there though, not gonna lie)

Short stories, novels, or poems?

What genre do you prefer reading?

Are you a planner or a write as I go kind of person?

What music do you listen to while writing?

Favorite books/movies?

Any current WIPs?

Create a character description of yourself: 

Do you like incorporating actual people you know into your writing?

Are you kill happy with your characters?

Coffee or Tea while writing?

Slow or fast writer?

If you were in a fantasy world, what would you be?

Most fav book cliche:

Least favorite cliche:

Favorite scene to write?

Reason for writing?

[constellama]

i think something’s happening now!! Uh oh !!!

Llama reads TRC: Chapters 22-25 of The Raven Boys

Chapter 22

Omg helicopter time

Loving the Helen and Gansey sibling banter

“That’s all.” WOOO GANSEY FINALLY RECOGNIZING HER VOICE

“Blue. Do you know Gansey?” OHOHO UH OH

This reoccurring triangle istg

Oh they’re ley lines. Why didn’t I realize that before.

“I’m always straight” “Oh, man, that’s the biggest lie you’ve ever told.” PFFFFT HAHHAAHA

oh my god A RAVEN !! I SURE HOPE THIS DOESNT MEAN ANYTHING !!! <- in fear

Chapter 23

I’m sorry the clocks are what.

Uh oh

“Noah?” WAIT. IS THIS. IS THIS WHERE WHELK DID THE RITUAL?? I COULD BE GETTING THIS COMPLETELY WRONG BUT !!! ITS MAKING ME THINK !!!

WHY ARE THE FISH RED WHATS HAPPENING

Do NOT stand in the tree cavity PLEASE

BLUE

Is she gonna get eaten by the tree

UHHH. WHAT

“Blue, kiss me” WHAT. WHAT WHAT WHAT WAIT WAIT HOLD ON

Adam :((( WHAT DID HE SEE

“I saw Glendower” everyone is having traumatic visions in the moldy tree meanwhile Gansey is living his Glendower kinnie fanfiction dream 😭

Chapter 24

What do you MEAN they were only there for 7 minutes WHAT

“Not that it’s not a cool name. Just that it’s…unusual.” Ok Richard Campbell Gansey III

Ronan chewing on his leather bracelets completely nonchalantly why is he like this /pos

“I’ve always liked the name Jane.” Gansey has too much audacity someone needs to humble him /lh /hj

“Although he couldn’t seem to stop teasing her.” Kanej thoughts are still plaguing my brain and this dynamic being in this book is Not helping /pos

Blue laughs for the first time at something Gansey said!!!

Chapter 25

Blue hanging out more with the Raven boys :D !!!

Adam describing the way Ronan swears at him in the most loving and affectionate way possible,,,

Blue Sargent 🤝 Zoya Nazyalensky Smelling like wildflowers and their love interests being obsessed with it

“He looked joyful and adoring, like a Labrador retriever.” NOAH IS A DOG BOY IM GONNA CRY

“This is precisely why I didn’t want to have a baby with you.” GANSEY?? COULD YOU NOT HAVE WORDED THIS ANY OTHER WAY???

Noah is such a creature I feel like if he was described to be hunched in a corner eating a live bird I wouldn’t question it. I love him sm

Noah Czerny 🤝 Inej Ghafa Appearing out of nowhere and scaring the crap out of their friends

Oooo creepy stone with writing on it

Uhh Ronan

“In case I didn’t recognize my own handwriting.” WHAT

Sorry for the long wait, finding time to read while also putting my thoughts down is hard BUT we’ve passed the halfway mark :))) I have a feeling something is about to go very very wrong and idk if I’m ready

[shakespeareaddict]

Fix Your Writer’s Block (without using AI)

I’ve been posting a lot of AI hate here lately (almost like...it’s becoming my brand....) and one of the things that gets my goat is the propaganda belief that AI can help writers who are struggling with a story in some way, shape or form come up with the next line or fix their plot or what have you. This advice is misguided at best and destructive at worst.* 

Still, complaining about something without actionable advice for how to fix it is not really my vibe. So for those of you thinking: “But I really need help!/But what am I supposed to do if I get writer’s block?” I have good news for you: Writers have been tackling writer’s block since...probably the invention of storytelling. There are ways to get around it if you are stuck! 

So, here’s a non-exhaustive list of tips and tricks to deal with your writer’s block, no computers necessary:

Put down something mediocre and come back to edit it later. It’s easy to get caught up searching for the “perfect” word or sentence, and waste a lot of time staring at a blinking cursor. But that’s not what a draft is for! Your goal is to get as much of the story out of your head and onto the page as possible; you can always edit it later, once you’ve had some time to think. (Though you might find that when you come back, the “mediocre” bit is actually better than you thought!)

Use a placeholder and continue writing. This is another tactic meant to keep you writing when it’s a small block, instead of falling down a research rabbit hole for an afternoon or otherwise being distracted. If I need to name a minor character who appears for two lines, I will often just ID them by their function in the story and circle back to it. Eg: “Officer <<COP>> took their statements very professionally and gave them his card.” When I edit, the all-caps and the brackets are a big reminder that, wait, I need to name this guy!

This tactic also works for research! If you need to know if bees have teeth or who said a cool quote, don’t spend an hour researching that when you should be writing! That is a problem for editing!

This goes triple for fanfiction writing, especially for a fandom with a lot of convoluted canon. I write a lot of Star Wars stuff and I like to reference “canon” planets and events in my fics; but if I try to research those references while I’m writing, my writing session becomes an endless Wookiepedia Delve. I just put “<<ICE PLANET HERE>>” or “<<CHECK SPELLING>>” as reminders.

I also cheat sometimes and write “<<end scene>>” if I’m not sure how to end a scene.

Take a break. Get up, stretch your muscles, and go do something else for 20-30 minutes. This tactic is perfect for when you realize you don’t know where a scene is going, or you’re stopping and starting a lot with your work. I recommend either light physical exercise or light household chores - something that engages your body without engaging your mind too much, so your subconscious can continue working on the problem.

This is also a great way of sneaking in self-care while writing. Hydrate yourself, go to the restroom, eat if you haven’t eaten yet. This kind of physical stuff has a huge impact on your mood and brain function; your writer’s block might be a symptom of your body needing something!

Go back to the drawing board. I have a bad habit of never outlining before I start writing - I know what the first three scenes are going to be, so I don’t need an outline! Then, about halfway through the story, I realize I have very little if any idea of what happens later. Taking a step back and typing out a quick outline (simple bullet points, like “Conan calls his sister for advice”) helps me keep on focus for the rest of the story, even if I decide to go off-outline.

Rubber-duck the problem. This tactic is for when you notice a larger problem with your work - you realize there’s a plothole, or you’ve written yourself into a corner, or you know how your story ends but you have no idea how to get to there from where you are now. “Rubber-duck debugging” is a programming technique where you explain a problem you’re having with a computer to an inanimate object (such as a rubber duck). Simply explaining a problem can often be enough to help you realize what went wrong.

No rubber duck is required! You can try this technique on dogs, mugs of tea, or family members who don’t know what you’re talking about but who make listening noises at the right time.

Finally, seek help from other writers. There are loads of ways to do this and all that you need is a community of fellow writers - or even just one writing friend! - to reap the benefits. Plus, it works on just about every kind of problem you can imagine having. Asking for help can look like:

Posting a question in a Discord server or other large group chat (eg: “Which of these two sentences sound better?” or “Do you guys have tips for writing betrayal?”)

Bringing your work to a writer’s workshop of some kind (I did a lot of this in high school/college and highly recommend joining a group where constructive criticism is offered, even for just a few months! Not only do you get feedback on your work, but learning to give other people feedback vastly improves your editing skills)

Discussing your problem with a writer friend

Finding a beta-reader (either a friend or otherwise)

*Besides the fact that you are feeding your work to a program that can and will keep it forever and might easily recreate parts of it later without your permission or knowledge, and besides the fact that most AI-generated “writing” isn’t actually that entertaining or good on a technical level so the value of whatever output you get is not actually that high, the best way to learn how to do anything is to practice doing the thing. If you turn to an AI every time you hit a stumbling block in your creative process, you are going to continue hitting stumbling blocks and your skill will not improve long-term.

[cartoonsaint]

back in 2020 i wrote a werewolf!David fic for Camp Camp and then got through about a quarter of its sequel before getting distracted. at this point it's unlikely i'm ever going to finish it but it sounds like there's at least one person out there who wants to read it, which makes this a good advertisement for leaving comments on seemingly abandoned works, doesn't it? anyways this is 7.8k, probably rated T, and i do not have the wherewithal (werewithal? hohoha) to reread rn so i can't offer any content warnings or fix any weird grammar or anything, but. here's it.

my semi-jokey working title for it was THERE'S ONLY ONE BED AND ALSO ONE OF US IS A WEREWOLF

CHAPTER ONE

Gwen wakes up.

She’s not sure what does it, because usually it takes the blaring of her alarm — as well as a few judicious smacks to the snooze button — for her to admit that the day is starting whether she wants it to or not and she had better drag herself out of bed if she doesn’t want the camp to burn down around her ears.

She’s long since come to terms with the fact that while she can effortlessly stay up late into the night reading fanfiction or binging television, even with a full eight hours under her belt the first thing she’s gonna want to do in the mornings is take a nap. Gwen just really, really isn’t a morning person.

By the grey light filtering through the windows, Gwen bets the sun hasn’t even properly risen yet. She’s not due to muddle her way through her morning routine for at least another hour, and in fact it’s so early that David’s still probably asleep.

That catches at something in her sleep-foggy brain. Had she had another dream about him, maybe? Something about… monsters? Statistically, and given the subject, it was probably a sex dream, but what…?

On a whim she turns over, intending to send her sleeping coworker a baleful glare for daring to have a presence in the confusing subconscious arena of her dreams — it’s not the first time, sure, but she uhhh.

Wolf.

That, uh… wolf.

Gwen stares at the sleeping beast in the room with her, suddenly wide awake, and does her best to regulate her breathing as she simultaneously curses David to hell. This is somehow his fault, she just knows it — leave it to Mr. Nurse-Back-to-Health-the-Wolf-That-Tried-to-Kill-Me to bring a wild animal into the cabin without telling her. Now she’s probably going to get eaten and leave behind all her unedited work and become famous for her talent posthumously instead of midhumously, or whatever, which is how she’d really, really prefer it.

Can wolves smell fear? She’s pretty sure they can, so she thinks happy, not-scared thoughts, like how happy she’ll feel when she throttles David for this. The animal is huge, taking up a sizable portion of her co-counselor’s bed, even though it’s curled up sleeping at the moment. The bed’s wool blanket and sheet are half-covering it, almost like it tried to burrow itself underneath them, and it has David’s stupid plush log between its front paws. It breathes in and out with great, calm gusts of breath, and Gwen thinks about how often wolves need to eat, how fetid its breath probably is, and the fact that she has virtually nothing with which to defend herself besides some trashy magazine she could maybe roll up and use to bonk its nose, like a poorly behaved mutt.

I’m freaking out a little, Gwen realizes, watching the tendrils of first light reach across the room. Knowing her luck, they’ll wake it up. Oh well. I had a good run. Well, an alright run. Well, I definitely had a run, anyway.

She practically holds her breath as the sun creeps in through the windows, sure that any moment might wake the beast and spell her doom. Maybe she’ll be able to miraculously pull David’s guitar out of nowhere and defend herself — but no, too quickly, the barest hint of sunlight touches the thing’s paw, and it gives a great twitch that has Gwen flinching — and then the wolf changes.

She’s not sure what she’s seeing at first. Its muzzle wrinkles as though in a snarl but then shrinks. The pointed ears on its head flatten back and disappear into its dark red fur, which itself seems to be absorbed back into its skin, leaving pale, pinkish flesh behind. Its paws stretch and lengthen into long, calloused, human fingers, and the whimper that comes out of its throat morphs mid-syllable into a distinct, familiar, and absolutely absurd “ouchie.” The figure left half-blanketed on the bed opens ocean green eyes over an upturned pink nose and effortlessly smiles at the new day.

The figure looks an awful lot like David sporting a week’s worth of facial hair.

The figure is David.

“Holy fuckin’ shit,” Gwen croaks, and David blinks his big green eyes over at Gwen, looking faintly puzzled.

“Gwen? What are you doing awake?” he whispers (only sounding a little raspy, the bastard).

Gwen’s mind is racing, frantically calling up memories from the past two days, belatedly recalling that last night she’d learned without a shadow of a doubt that David — bouncy, clumsy, sunshine-y David, her coworker of too many years and the least brood-over-his-loss-of-humanity guy she’s ever known, that David — was a bonafide werewolf.

He’s still looking at her, apparently wide-awake and ready to be properly concerned about his “CBFL!” despite the fact that no sane person should be awake at this hour. She tries to say something, something intelligent, so that he knows she’s fine and can stop turning the force of his way-too-bright eyes on her.

“Wurwuf,” her stupid mouth manages.

He looks confused, briefly, before a metaphorical lightbulb goes off so obviously that Gwen practically has to squint at its brightness. “Oh yeah! I change back when the sunlight hits me — it hurts, but I hope I wasn’t too loud. Did I wake you up?”

He looks so intensely unhappy at the possibility that Gwen finds herself shaking her head before she can properly process what he said, and he smiles warmly at her. Fortunately it’s not one of his overwhelming ones but instead the softer kind, the kind he wears when he’s had a long day or a camper pleasantly surprises him.

“I’m glad,” he says with one hundred percent honesty, and he sits straight up in bed like it’s easy to get his muscles to work in the morning. “I was a little worried! You should go back to sleep, Gwen. I know how hard you’ve been working, and I dumped a lot on you last night. I’ll take breakfast duty, okay?”

“Mm,” she says, and he gives her another smile — jesus it’s too fucking early for this — and daintily wraps a sheet around his body, heading to the bathroom. She watches him go, humming like it’s any other day, until he closes and latches the door behind him with a snk.

HOLY FUCKING SHIT, Gwen mentally screams, and bites her fist hard. David’s a werewolf. David is a werewolf. It’s a brand new day and her coworker (and, fine, friend) David is a WEREWOLF who literally transformed in front of her very eyes into a huge, potentially terrifying beast.

She’s going to have so much to write about.

Speaking of, she scrambles out of bed for her notebook and pen. She’d been limited by David’s inability to talk as a wolf, but through yes and no questions and some dubiously successful attempts at charades she’d ended up with a decent number of pages written out about his new condition. It’s a solid start on figuring out what they can expect and how this whole thing works.

Of course, like every normal person, Gwen herself went through a Weird Wolf Girl phase. Though it’s been considerably more than a decade since then, she’s sure she hasn’t forgotten that much about them — and besides, with all the supernatural shapeshifter romances she’s read in the years since then, she’s pretty confident she can fill in any gaps in her knowledge.

She starts drafting questions, both for David and the Quartermaster (who of course has a hook in this, that guy is so freaky). Like: David turns into a four-legged wolf every time moonlight touches him, but is there a way to control when the change happens? Could he stop the change partway through? Is his werewolfism unique, or is there a pack out there somewhere? And are there any single werewolves her age? If so, how would Gwen go about meeting them?

Quietly, Gwen lets out a high-pitched squeal — werewolves are real, and she knows one. It’s too bad it’s David, since that precludes any hot paranormal action on her end, and has precluded any action between them since their first week working together. But maybe he’ll meet some other, more masculine werewolves and he could introduce her?

“You’re getting ahead of yourself, Gwen,” she whispers. “Reel it in.”

She spends a brief moment in deep breathing, trying to meditate… and then shrugs it off to bounce excitedly on her bed. Even if this isn’t quite the way she’d imagined it, werewolves! This could be a major change in her life, the kind she’d hoped Graggle would be, the kind she’s been waiting for as long as she can remember.

And who knows — he might still be David, but being a werewolf might make him more interesting, too. She grabs her pillow and muffles a disbelieving, embarrassingly girly squee into it, grinning. She can’t wait to see how things change.

***

In retrospect, maybe Gwen should have expected to be disappointed.

The activity for that day is Rube Goldberg Machines (“Max really enjoyed this one last year, Gwen!!”) and even though, as always, Gwen had told him during last week’s activity-planning session that it was going to be a disaster (“David, it’s going to be a disaster.”), the day is just… regular.

Which isn’t to say it’s not a disaster, but it is a pretty regular one. Harrison and Preston team up against Erid and Nerris to create competing death machines, which results in David stepping into the middle of their feud and getting the crap beaten out of him by mechanically-operated cardboard. Max and his friends are suspiciously quiet in a way that Gwen would be more concerned about if she wasn’t so busy trying to prevent Nurf from incorporating Dolph and Space Kid as living pieces of his machine. Mr. Campbell shows up at some point with an intriguing but useless story about his time in a Russian ballet school and then disappears pretty much as soon as she asks him to help. The Quartermaster is there.

Gwen waits all day, anticipation thrumming through her veins, for David to do something different. Just… one thing that would indicate that he’s secretly a paranormal, shapeshifting, not-quite-human creature. Maybe some supernatural speed, or a snarl at being bashed over the head by their terrible campers. Hell, she’d accept a mysterious, darkly longing look towards the woods. Anything.

But David spends the whole day totally normal, with his usual mix of peppiness, anxiety, and the occasional oh-so-human shriek of pain.

It’s not like Gwen really believed (much less had her heart set on) all those books about the super capable, brooding werewolf leads, but… It’s not easy to reconcile the rugged, snarling, coverboy antiheroes with a twiggy, delicate David who’s too busy trying to put a positive spin on marble-powered rocket launchers to realize his bandana is on fire.

Needless to say, Gwen’s exhausted by the end of the day, and for all his talk David hurries the kids along to bed as well. She leans against a tree, watching him interact with the torturous little shits with near-endless patience even in the light of the rising moon. It’s impressive, given that David wears his heart on his sleeve (along with every other organ he has in his body), but right now his impression of not being twitchy as hell is nearly passable. Even if some of the kids notice, they won’t worry; besides the Problem Trio, none will suspect it’s anything to do with the supernatural.

Also, of course Max, Neil, and Nikki found out about it; Gwen is going to grill Max about that as soon as she gets the chance, and then she’s going to kill David for letting it slip so quickly.

...then again, it’s admittedly something of a miracle that the whole camp doesn’t already know; she might have to let this slide. You should still know better! she thinks loudly, glaring at the back of David’s head as he suffers Nikki using him as a climbing post. He glances back at the same moment, catches her look, and hurriedly starts trying to disentangle the wild kid from his hair.

Gwen winces, then sighs in frustration — she hadn’t actually meant for him to catch that. Great going, Gwen.

Despite the revelations of the past few days, David really does seem just the same: goofy muppet-long limbs, pointy elbows, big smiles papered over a mess of anxiety, enthusiasm, and bad ideas. He’s not even more muscular or anything — though to be fair, he’s always been stronger than he looks. With his wiry muscles, he’s capable of lifting way more than Gwen expects — but the fact remains that he’s always looked delicate.

He’s not, of course — though he cries more easily than most people, it’s usually an emotional rather than physical response. He bounces back from just about any injury, leaping into the next activity with all the grace of a newborn deer. Gwen can admit that it’s somewhat compelling; she can’t help admiring his determination to keep moving forward.

Finally disengaged from Nikki, David puts his hands on his hips, tilting them in the opposite direction of his head. The move puts him on an appealing slant that emphasizes how long and slim he is, the slope of his neck leading into the sharp cut of his shoulders, hidden slightly by his dumb bandana. He fiddles with it now, throwing an uncertain glance her way.

He’d said the freaky magic necklace wasn’t comfortable to wear, and she wonders exactly how: does it intensify things? Is it like holding in a sneeze? After working so closely with him for so long, she’s intimately familiar with his energy levels; it’s not been the kind of day that usually ends in mania or an anxiety attack, but he’s twitchier than usual anyway. Is that related?

Finally taking pity, Gwen steps in. She manages to convince Harrison that the woods aren’t going to come alive while he sleeps (a weird, newly emerged fear she’s keeping a close eye on) and bundles Space Kid in his favorite rocket blanket so that David can devote his attention to Nerris’s pleas to stay up later so they can fight the dark elves together (which honestly seems like the kind of bullshit she should read up on, because that doesn’t sound like the sort of thing an impressionable kid should be absorbing). Together, they get the kids down only twenty minutes past the scheduled time.

David is unmistakably anxious on the way to the Counselors Cabin. When he hesitantly asks, “Am I in trouble?” Gwen can’t help but sigh.

“No, David. I’m just thinking,” she admits. “We need to make sure none of the rest of the kids find out that you’re a werg— a, a werewolf.” She silently curses herself for stumbling over the word again. What’s wrong with her? “Why did you have to let Max know? You must have realized he’d find a way to take advantage of this.”

“We-e-ell…” David starts, avoiding eye contact in a way that compounds Gwen’s fatigue.

“David.”

“I didn’t mean to!! He was just there and the moon was out and he broke the necklace and obviously if I had known I wouldn’t have put him in that situation, but the Quartermaster was being very coy about my being a werewolf so I had no idea what was coming —“

“Wait wait wait,” Gwen interrupts; David shrinks guiltily. “You didn’t know? You mean Max was there the first time you —?” She cuts herself off, brain whirring through his behavior since he got back from his disastrous trip in the woods a few weeks ago. She doesn’t like the conclusion she comes to.

Dreading his answer, she asks, “When was this?”

“Um.” David counts briefly on his fingers, lips pursed in thought. “A-about a week ago?”

“A week?!”

“A, a little less, actually,” he admits, cringing.

Gwen stops walking. “It’s been less than a week.”

Cautiously, he nods, his red hair flopping, and Gwen stares at him. It occurs to her suddenly that David has, hilariously, really been thrown to the wolves here: he doesn’t actually know anything about being a werewolf. His life has just changed, majorly and possibly permanently, and his only guide is the laconic and decidedly unhelpful Quartermaster… and Gwen herself.

“Right,” Gwen manages, and starts walking again. David follows, chattering nervously, but she barely hears him, thinking about what he’d said to her yesterday morning (practically forever ago): that he hadn't wanted to be a burden, but he needed her help.

Where is she even supposed to start?

She watches him throw his arms up to emphasize a point she hasn’t heard and catches sight of how long and delicate his fingers are, even with his summer camp callouses. They’re the same as ever, but somehow that makes Gwen feel like he’s even more fragile than usual, like if she even touched his shoulder he might shatter or maybe even bolt. But if she wants to figure this out properly, she needs more information… so she’s extra careful when she puts forth her next question.

“So you gonna let me watch tonight?” she asks, and then bites her tongue hard because that did not come out like she wanted it to, Gwen what is wrong with you.

Fortunately, the look David sends her is one of innocent surprise, rather than one assuming that she just propositioned him.

“Um, sure!!” he says, voice edging just past bubbly and into manic; he tugs at his bandana, revealing a flash of silver chain. Then, to her horror, a very noticeable flush starts to crawl up the back of his neck — shit, does he think she just propositioned him? “I-it’s just… well, I can’t really afford to ruin any more camp uniforms, s-so, um, I’d have to be —“

“Spit it out, David,” she advises, not completely dickishly.

“—naked, I’d have to be naked,” he blurts out, and pulls his bandana up around his cheeks to hide his embarrassment.

Gwen has to blink at him for a few seconds. Is he seriously that embarrassed about her catching an eyeful when they’ve lived in close quarters this long? And when he’s going to turn into a giant, fuckoff werewolf??

“David. I promise not to look at your dick,” she says, which to her amusement makes him squeak and turn as red as his hair. He flutters a nervous hand at her, glancing around like a camper could appear anywhere — which, to be fair, they could: Gwen has learned not to underestimate the little bastards.

She bumps her shoulder into his, because she’s too awkward to offer comfort in a normal way. “Are you seriously more freaked out about the naked thing than the werewolf thing?”

“It’s not… appropriate,” he hisses, still flushed and harried-looking. “You shouldn’t have to —“

“I don’t have to; I want to. To see you transform, I mean,” she corrects. “Into a wolf. Not to — yeah. But I do want to see the transforming shit again because it was seriously the coolest thing I have ever seen.”

As per usual, David opens the door to the Counselors Cabin and lets Gwen through first, which is why she sees the set-up, recognizes the intended purpose, and is already exhausted and dismayed by its outcome by the time David cheerfully flicks on the lightswitch.

“Oh,” he says, pleasantly surprised, as his action triggers the set of three marbles to start rolling down the halved cardboard tubes that have been taped together into an impressively complicated contraption. The blue marble hits and tips over a precariously balanced jug of water, the yellow one continues to pick up speed as its path steepens, and the mint-green one just barely nudges a piece of cheese into the grubby little hands-reach of a caged squirrel. “Wow,” David says, delighted, while Gwen traces the future paths of the machine and reaches the signs neatly taped to the wall above David’s bed.

“GWEN DON’T INTERFERE. I PROMISED I WOULDN’T SET A FIRE BUT NEIL DIDN’T. MAX.”

“Ooo, great use of weighted pullies,” David says appreciatively, while a baby headache is born right behind Gwen’s eyes.

Next to Max’s note is one with Neil’s precise handwriting. “Sorry for getting carried away but I needed to test my abilities. Neil.”

The squirrel has tugged up the string tied to the key to its cage and is furiously trying to unlock its prison; another domino falls just as the scale overbalances. Gwen’s headache has learned to walk and is joyfully crashing into the walls of her brain.

Nikki’s note (which, for some reason, is dripping with an unknown reddish liquid) says, “it seemed like the best use of our time. also the squirrel needed to know who was boss.”

“That’s such a creative use of a windchime!” David says, proud as anything, as Gwen recognizes an open container of lighter fluid, realizes that the last note is written in Campbell’s chunky scrawl, and her headache throws a screaming teenage tantrum about how unfair its life is.

“IT SEEMED LIKE A GOOD CAMP ACTIVITY FOR THE CHILDREN! ALSO THEY BRIBED ME. SORRY! CAMERON C. CAMPBELL.”

“Gwen, look at how they combined their machines here! Oh, I’m so proud, this is such great teamwork,” David coos and then the lighter fluid tips over, the bedspread catches fire, the squirrel frees itself to launch its horrible little rodent body across the room, and Gwen’s headache graduates summa cum laude with a full degree in Fuck You Gwenology.

Even if she hasn’t been through this exact scenario before, Gwen knows how this goes. David’s mattress will be reduced to kindling (an inevitability each summer; honestly, she’s a little proud of how long it lasted this year), David will shriek as the squirrel makes claw-contact with his face, and Gwen will calmly murder every person responsible for ensuring she has more work to do before she can goddamn relax. She’s already heading towards the fire extinguisher when David surprises her.

Instead of getting a faceful of furious-slash-terrified squirrel and screeching his fool head off, David whips a hand out faster than Gwen can follow and snags the thing out of the air. She hardly notices, though, distracted as she is by the sudden, ferocious snarl that transforms David’s face, revealing a set of gleaming, razor-sharp fangs that make him look a whole lot more… monstrous.

Oh, fuck, Gwen thinks, frozen to the spot.

The squirrel squeals, panicked, and David’s growling cuts off abruptly with a sharp little gasp. He loosens his grip enough that the animal can scramble out of his hands and out the swinging screen door, not even bothering to scold them on the way out. David automatically tracks its movements, his green eyes flashing and shoulders tense.

Thwack, goes the cabin door. Gwen stares at David, who himself stares at where the squirrel had disappeared, before a full-body shudder goes through him and he wraps his arms around his middle.

“S-sorry,” he says, voice small. Gwen blinks at that, still a bit dazed, but he keeps his eyes down. “I didn’t mean — I mean, I just —“ He hunches into himself, making himself even smaller.

Realization sparks in Gwen — he feels shitty about this, I should do something — and then David takes a sudden, deep breath, filling his lungs and straightening to his full height. His shoulders are still tense but he’s forced them down, like he’s relaxed, and when he smiles at her it’s practically normal.

But Gwen knows David, and she knows his smiles, and this one is bad: her eyes rove over his face, cataloguing the tension in his brow, the slight tremble of his upper lip, how few teeth he’s actually showing. “David,” she starts, uncertain what she’s going to say.

“It’s okay!” he assures her, voice bright and tight, flapping an insistent hand in dismissal. “I was just — that, um, startled me, is all. I didn’t mean to — to… is something burning?”

Gwen turns so fast she gives herself whiplash. “Oh fuck, the bed!!”

“O-oh — !”

These days she’s old hat at putting out fires, but the lighter fluid and the relatively extended burn time mean that even after Gwen empties a full fire extinguisher, it’s quite clear that the mattress isn’t the only thing sacrificed to the blaze.

“My bed,” David says weakly. The headboard has collapsed into the slats of the bed frame, which are themselves burned through, and its legs are heavily charred; it looks like it might fall apart in a stiff breeze, leaving behind just a pile of ashes. “W-well, we could —“

“The extra camper cots won’t hold an adult’s weight,” Gwen points out numbly. Do they still have — ?

“And Mr. Campbell took the last bedframe from storage when he moved in,” David notes, and Gwen adds another thing to her mental “Reasons to Kill Cameron Campbell” list. “Good thing I —“

“No, Max traded your sleeping bag to the Wood Scouts to get them to take Jermy back,” Gwen reminds him, pinching the bridge of her nose. Quartermaster probably has more supplies, but he’s left for the night to do… Quartermaster things, and Gwen doesn’t actually know how to contact him until the morning.

“Right,” David sighs. “But the hammock — ?”

“Could you even use it when you’ve got —“ she claws at the air, giving him a faux snarl, which immediately makes her feel like a huge, stupid asshole, but she perseveres — “you know, four legs?”

With each back and forth, David sinks down a little more — but at that last one he perks up a bit. “Oh! Gwen, I’ll be a wolf. I don't need a bed, I’ll just sleep outside!”

“David,” Gwen begins, already prepared to try to make him see reason, but then she actually catches sight of his expression and pauses, considering.

Because David isn’t looking at her. His eyes dart from the remains of his bed to her desk to the bathroom door to the open window, whereupon he flinches and looks anywhere else til he’s inevitably drawn back to it. His hands are clasped in front of him like he’s pleased, but Gwen can see them trembling. “Plus, I feel like — I think there’s something different in the air, and I just want to check it out, make sure everything’s okay. And Harrison was so nervous at bedtime — I should probably check on him. And the Quartermaster probably needs help setting things up, so…”

He wants to get away, Gwen realizes. His reaction to the squirrel was different than he’s used to and it scared him. He needs to process it alone.

“Fine,” Gwen blurts out, and David shuts his mouth, eyebrows dipping in confusion.

“Huh?”

“Go. We don’t have to — You can show me the transformation another night. I’ll take care of the bed and any kids who come calling. If you need — some time, or some space, David, then go get it.” She has to mentally scream at herself to do it, but she raises a pretty convincingly casual hand to pat his shoulder. “I’ll take care of things here. You go do what you need, okay?”

He looks uncertain, but he does lean into her touch. Gwen fights to keep her face normal. “Gwen, are you sure? I don’t want to leave you alone with everything again…”

“It’s fine, David,” she says, and finds that she means it. He asked her for her help, and if this is what it takes, well. “Go. Run around, burn off some energy, do what you need. I’ll cover you.”

He bites his lip, incidentally flashing those sharp teeth. Gwen determinedly keeps her eyes on his. “If you’re sure it’s okay…”

“I am. Go do your thing, David.”

The tense worry on his face melts away, and when he smiles at her it’s easy. “Thanks, Gwen,” he says, and before she can react he wraps his arms around her in a firm hug.

Gwen tries not to freeze up or anything, but she’s so awkward — she ends up patting his shoulder again (like an idiot) until he finally loosens his warm grip and steps away to open the cabin door. He aims one last grateful smile at her; it practically lights up the whole room.

“I’ll see you tomorrow morning, Gwen. Thanks again.”

“Yee-up,” she says, and gives him a thumbs-up until the screendoor thwacks shut behind him.

She stands there for a long moment, listening to his footsteps fade away. Then, when she’s sure he’s gone, she numbly reaches for her pillow. She presses her face into it and takes a couple deep breaths.

Then she screams, because she has to clean up the remains of the burned bed and figure out how this werewolf thing works for David and make sure the camp keeps running and now she’s going to have to do all that with the awareness that David might be hot now.

He’s not allowed to be. Their whole thing works because he’s not her type. They have to work so closely together to make this damn place run, reading each others’ intentions and patching each other up and practically working on top of and underneath each other; Gwen can’t do that if she has to worry about her hormones acting up just because her stupid coworker actually has some monster-y traits to go with the fact that technically, now he’s a monster.“Fuck,” she says, and it scrapes at her throat but it feels good anyways, so she says it again as she tries not to think about sharp teeth in an innocent smile. “Fuck fuck fuck.”

CHAPTER TWO

Gwen wakes up.

She keeps her eyes shut for a few moments. Sleep waits for her, solemn and warm, but something in the outside world is just off enough that she doesn’t surrender to it quite yet. Sluggishly, consciousness comes online.

She has a body. Her body is wrapped in a warm blanket. She’s still cold. She scrunches her nose and pulls her limbs in tighter, which helps a little, but not as much as the sudden cut-off of cold air that accompanies the screendoor’s muffled thwack.

Is David seriously coming in and out of the cabin at this hour? That deserves a squinted glare at the very least. Gwen rolls over to offer the stink-eye to her erstwhile coworker for his early morning volume, only —

The windows show only dark grey outside. Rain splatters half-heartedly against the panes. The digital clock on David’s night table illuminates the digits 7:08, more than twenty minutes before her first phone alarm is due to go off. Though the light inside the cabin is limited, it’s enough for Gwen to make out the rough outline of an enormous animal standing just in the doorway. It looks directly at her; its reflective eyes are brilliant and strange.

Her heart skips a beat. Then its pace increases, along with her breathing, because what the fuck, it’s gonna eat her —

A quiet, pitiful whine escapes the beast. It sounds pathetically sad, like Missy when Gwen’s dad won’t share his hamburger, but besides that universal doggy plea, something else about it seems... familiar.

She switches on her lamp before she can doubt herself.

The scant golden light reveals an unnaturally large wolf, its four paws placed carefully on the doormat. It is covered in thick red fur, Gwen knows, but not one hair of that is visible beneath its coat of caked, dripping mud. Its big green eyes are pleading. 

“Christ, David,” she says hoarsely, and stumbles to her feet, already reaching for the box of garbage bags left out last night after she cleaned up the charred remains of his bed. She can cut one open and lay it down like a tarp; it’ll catch any mud he drips on the way to the bathroom so it won’t spread to the rest of the cabin. Where are her scissors?

She lurches about the cabin, trying to prep it for a muddy werewolf. Her brain is working, technically, running through where the spare towels are and what she’ll need, but it’s still too early for things to quite make sense. Werewolf? Sure, that’s logical, she can handle that. But shouldn't David have turned back by now?

“C’mon,” she says to him once she has a line of slit open trashbags laid out. David steps carefully along her path, his tail and ears down, and hops immediately into the tub without the need for her to explain. Pulling her hair back in a loose ponytail, Gwen locates an old, refillable slurpee cup, then squats on the bathmat and turns the water on.

It’s cold, as it always is first thing in the morning, but David doesn’t even react; his fur must be super thick. Still, she waits until it hits a reasonable temperature before plugging the bath and filling the mega slurpee cup. “Stay still, okay?” Placing a hand on his furry brow to prevent the water from getting in his eyes, she pours it over his head… which makes hardly any difference to the mud stuck fast to his fur.

Gwen rocks back onto her heels, frowning. “Think we’re gonna need more than water,” she tells David, who woofs so very softly in reply that even in her sleep-muzzy state she can’t help smirking a little. “Is that a yes?” His tail starts to wag, disturbing the already-clouded water filling the tub. “Yeah? You want some soap or shampoo or some shit, David?”

To her amusement, his tail wags even harder — he’s always so delighted by her solutions, even when they’re obvious, but somehow the tail-wagging hits different than his normal bouncy enthuthiasm. She idly wonders how far she can take this as she stands to examine their toiletries.

There’s not much left in his shampoo bottle, so Gwen grabs her body wash as well — it’s cheap and she has tons of it, so it’ll have to do. She kneels back down and softens her voice a little more, like she’s talking to a toddler or something, as she squeezes some shampoo into her palm. “You wanna get clean, David? Huh? Get all this crap off of you?”

He gives her a happy whine that is so very David, despite the species, that she can’t help the giggle that escapes her. 

His tail stills for a moment and he stares at her, ears pricked high, the expression on his muzzle so close to human surprise that she starts to feel self conscious. Then he starts wagging his tail so furiously that Gwen has to quickly splat her shampooed hand on his head. “Shut up,” she tells him, and starts to rub it into a lather.

Gwen doesn’t really touch people. Growing up she’d been used to living in cramped spaces — Dad’s tour bus chief among them — which meant that being able to spread out was always such a luxury. She quit touring once she hit high school, but by that time the damage had already been done: after so many years of enforced closeness, Gwen never really figured out how to initiate physical contact when she wanted it, without a lack of room causing the press of bodies on all sides. 

So she’s not good at touching people. David, on the other hand, is bad at not touching people. When Gwen awkwardly offered her hand to him during their first meeting, David went right in for an extended hug. He hasn’t gotten much better since; it’s taken years for her to train him to let go of her, dammit, and she’s given up on ever getting through a day without his hands fluttering around her shoulders, arms, back, casually and constantly touching her.

And though Gwen pretends not to notice or care, on the relatively rare occasions that she initiates contact, David always, always relaxes into her touch. It makes her feel… well, stupid, yes, but also warm and — damn him — kind of fond. Right now, it’s somehow even easier to slip into that feeling: he leans obviously into her hands as she works the shampoo and then body wash through his thick fur, the mud coming away under her fingers and slowly revealing more and more red fur.

It should be stranger, not least because he’s currently in the form of a predator that has terrified man for years. But Gwen keeps at it, soaping and scrubbing and rinsing, til her friend stands there on four paws, clean as can be.

...and, once she takes a step back to get a good view of him, looking a bit like an enormous drowned rat.

“Holy shit, you’re so skinny,” Gwen exclaims, leaning against the sink. She crosses her arms as she gets a good look at the wolf doing his best to pout in their tub. “All that fur almost made you look intimidating, but you’re all elbows, huh?”

David’s furry brow creases. He seems to think hard for a moment; feeling generous, Gwen waits him out. Finally, he sticks the very tip of his tongue out in an impressively snooty blep.

She snorts, snagging some ratty old towels, and drops back into the voice she uses for dogs and babies. “Well, does David wanna get dry now? Huh? Does Davey wanna let Gwen towel him off so he can be a big, scary fluffball again?”

When she turns back, his muzzle has contorted into one of offended realization. She can hear his voice so clearly in his scandalized expression: Wait, have you been making fun of me? That, plus the fact that his tongue is still out in a petite blep, has her pressing the towels to her face to muffle a laugh.

“David,” she starts, once she feels capable of facing him without making a fool of herself -- and then she startles at the spray of cool water against her skin, soaking into her pajamas, and the pafwappafwappafwap sound of a dog shaking itself dry. “David!” she snaps, horrified, and backs away, but the bathroom door is closed — she’s stuck — she holds up the towels, as if that will protect her. She’s going to kill him.

He woofs, sounding terribly pleased with himself, and Gwen blindly chucks the towels at him. By her ear, they splat against the tub -- she wipes at the water in her eyes, cursing. “I’m going to kill you,” she announces to the bathroom, fuming, and feels the rasp of something warm and wet on her free hand. She jerks away, blinking rapidly to clear her vision.

David stands beside her, fluffy and damp and way too smug, his green eyes sparkling in amusement. He’s big enough that his head hits her waist; if he stood on his back feet, he’d be tall enough to crowd her in, look down on her. As it is, he looks up at her, a distinctly… David look of affection on his face.

Gwen’s stomach swoops, but just a little, and that’s kind of embarrassing so she glowers at him. “Dick,” she mutters, yanking open the bathroom door and storming half-heartedly to her “dresser” (a shitty filing cabinet, because Campbell’s too cheap for real furniture). She can hear the click of his nails on the hardwood as she pulls out a camp shirt and a relatively clean sports bra. Her pajama shirt is soaked thanks to David’s sense of humor so she tugs it off and flings it into her laundry basket. “Shouldn’t you have changed back by now anyway?” she asks him. “It’s way past sun-up.”

She just buys whatever fits from the sales rack, so her sports bras are always wacky colors; this one is fuschia with vivid teal piping. She yanks it on over her head and makes sure her tits are facing the right way before realizing that David has gone totally silent.

She glances over her shoulder to find him staring at her with wide eyes, his tail frozen straight out in shock. When they make eye contact, his ears flatten against his skull and he seems at such a panicky loss for what to do that he actually yelps, which startles them both so much that they spend another precious second staring at each other in mutual what-the-fuck-do-we-do-ness before Gwem gets her shit together and throws her camp shirt at his face.

“I —! You were a dog! I forgot!” she snaps, face burning. Stupid. “Stay there!” 

It takes Gwen seconds to get another shirt on, but her inner voice is shouting rapidly the whole time. He’s a wolf but he’s a werewolf so he’s a person so you can’t change in front of him dumbass! Unless you’re trying to get it on in which case why would you think unsexily shoving your boobs into a sports bra would be the way to do it?! Plus even if he is a werewolf he’s still David who isn’t supposed to be hot! ...But maybe he is now?? Even if that is the case you know you can’t handle a fling with a coworker so quit thinking about it, especially cuz right now he’s still in the form of a dog!!

In her mind, Gwen shouts inarticulately back at the voices and smashes their heads in with David’s guitar. In real life, she zips up her shorts and hesitantly lifts the spare shirt off David’s face. He keeps his eyes screwed shut, his ears back and head down, everything about his posture saying I’m sorry I’m sorry I’m sorry.

Gwen huffs out a breath — he gets so apologetic for the stupidest shit — and taps his forehead to get his attention. “David, it’s fine, it was my fault anyway. You can open your eyes.” 

A fine tremble goes through him, but he peeks one eye open and, seeing that she’s telling the truth, opens both eyes to focus entirely on her. Gwen feels like squirming — even in this form, his focus makes her a little nervous. “Well?” she blurts out. “Why aren’t you human again?”

He flicks an ear in mild irritation (is he conscious of that, she wonders) and pads over to the cabin door, pointing his muzzle towards the outside. Gwen follows, looking out: the camp is muddy and full of puddles, rain drizzling down from pale grey clouds that take up the whole sky. Her stomach sinks.

“You need sunlight to change back?” she asks; he confirms with a prim little nod. Gwen tugs her phone over by its cord (it’ll probably break at some point, but what the fuck ever) and checks the weather app for the hourly forecast in Sleepy Peak. She can’t help hissing at what she sees.

“It’s supposed to be cloudy for the next twenty-four hours,” she says, feeling a little numb. David’s ears sink in clear dismay that matches her own. “What the fuck are we going to do?”

***

It turns out David doesn’t even need to speak for them to reach a decision.

He suggests (through a series of wolf-sounds and some poor pantomime) that he stay inside all day, but Gwen knows that he couldn’t even make it an hour being cooped up inside with no camp activities to run. So as long as he can avoid the mud, she’s sentencing him to spend the rest of the day outdoors on the off-chance that any sunlight makes it through the thick cloud cover. 

Which means that she’s basically going to be running the camp alone today. Great.

Gwen rolls up a pair of his shorts and pins them onto a long-sleeve camp shirt so at least he’ll have clothing if he happens to change back. Obedient, David sits very still as she ties the bundle around his neck like a bandana. He looks up at her attentively when she smooths down the tree insignia so it lays flat against his red fur.

Despite the fact that he’s an enormous wolf, and despite the fact that he’s David, her brain says dog! and she has to resist the urge to pat his head. He almost looks cute.

“Okay,” she says, shrugging on her raincoat and opening the front door. “Quartermaster needs to get into storage to get you a new bed anyway, so I’ll do blanket forts for a bit and see how it goes. You — don’t get seen, don’t get too muddy, and come back as soon as you’re human again. Got it?”

David’s eyes turn determined. He lifts a paw to his nose in what Gwen assumes is his best “campe diem!!” and this time she really can’t help it — before she can stop herself, she’s running a hand down his fluffy head and scratching behind his ears. David leans into it, tail wagging, and by the time Gwen realizes what she’s done he’s already hopped out the door and trotted off into the woods.

Gwen is too awkward, too nervous, too weird — even after years of patching him up, she hardly ever touches David on purpose, but… that had been easy. His fur had been warm, his green eyes bright.

She stands there for a minute, blinking at her own hand, imagining she can still feel fur, dense and fine against her fingers. Then she shakes her head and gets going.

[shipposttt]

Ship of The Day: Drarry

Character Names: Draco Malfoy and Harry Potter

Ship Name: Drarry

Original Content: Harry Potter

Ship Info:

Drarry. It's time.

Coming from the Harry Potter franchise we see the ship involving the ‘Chosen One’ Harry Potter and ‘Death Eater’ Draco Malfoy, an enemy to lover's favourite among the community. So why do fans ship these two? 

Many started shipping the two due to the rivalry (that some interpreted as flirtation), which made the enemies to lovers fans go wild.

For instance, when the two end up in punishment together and are heading into the forbidden forest. They both displayed feelings of fear and signs of being nervous, but due to being in company with each other, they both tried to hide their fear. As they go deeper into the forest and lose track of Fang, the two try to start up multiple conversations as a distraction to the fear they feel. Some read this as a sort of 'wanting to impress the other' sort of trope, however, it could just be argued to be toxic masculinity with the boys feeling like they should not display any type of fear or emotion that could make them seem weak to other males. Any 'feminine' feelings.

Tensions also during Hagrid's class are also a key factor in their flirtation with the constant back-and-forth arguments, that go on even in front of the class, giving off the vibe of being 'an old married couple'. And the fact they did it in front of others might display a sense of urgency to show others they have a connection.

And their rivalry on the Quidditch field, with both of them on opposite teams is also a key factor and main concept for many fanfictions. The two jostles around, push each other and hurl insults at each other giving more of a feel of friendly rivalry as they both try and win. But also a hint of admiration.

The two have also saved each other, showing to others that they do in fact view them as important enough to save fuelling the 'enemies-to-lovers' debate. For example, Harry saves Draco from the room of requirement. But this almost feels right since Harry is the hero. But when Draco did it, it really itched something in Drarry shipper's brains. The scene is when Draco lies and pretends not to know who Harry is when his face is distorted, saving his life and hinting he has some feelings for the boy who lived.

But the angst is also what had fans shipping the pair. For example when Harry nearly killed Draco in the bathroom while the two were having a dual, Harry using the Sectumsempera spell (which could have killed Draco) took their rivalry to another stage. But with these intense feelings, some fans also read it as them having a love so deep it boarders into hate. Love hurts Afterall.

The books are also quite an important contribution as to why many ship the pair, such as:

"Three boys entered, and Harry recognized the middle one at once: It was the pale boy from Madame Malkin's robe shop. He was looking at Harry with a lot more interest than he'd shown back in Diagon Alley." "Perhaps Harry had eaten a bit too much, because he had a very strange dream. He was wearing Professor Quirrell's turban, which kept talking to him, telling him he must transfer to Slytherin at once, because it was his destiny. Harry told the turban he didn't want to be in Slytherin; it got heavier and heavier; he tried to pull it off but it tightened painfully- and there was Malfoy, laughing at him as he struggled with it" (Harry dreaming of Draco) "Bet you loved that, didn't you, Potter?" said a voice Harry had no trouble recognizing. He straightened, and came face-to-face with Draco Malfoy..."

"Now Harry, when Draco points his wand at you, you do this."

He raised his own wand, attempted a complicated sort of wiggling action, and dropped it...

"Whoops - my wand is a little overexcited-"

"Harry, however, had never been less interested in Quidditch; he was rapidly becoming obsessed with Draco Malfoy. Still checking the Marauder's Map whenever he got the chance, he sometimes made detours to wherever Malfoy happen to be..."

I'll leave it up to your imagination as to why these quotes might lead to people shipping the duo.

Type of Ship: Queer Read

The two are very much not written without the intention of the two becoming a couple, it is all just fan interpretation and fanfics made for fans who might have wanted to see Draco get a redemption arc.

Some might also ship the pair due to the lack of well-written female characters that could have ended up with Draco. The only female we actually see him written to be friends with is Pansey (who isn't really given much character development or just character in general). And the one who would best counterbalance him would be Harry Potter. Their personality, their colour palettes, their family status and their houses. Each contradicts each other in every way. However both did end up with different people and a whole family, but their son's did become best friends which makes them always in contact with eachother in one way or another.

Admin, 🦒

(i am so sorry if this is not the best post but i did not really have much info of this ship beforehand and could not find much :,))