#i am fitting this scene in somewhere in the fic

[qoldenskies]

Do you have any writing tips? Especially for characterization/dialogue :>

uhhhh i am not a professional so take this with a grain of salt. here are things i think about a lot at least

i dont have any solid ideas on how i get my prose to be Like That, i am not super confident in it, but a thing ive tried to focus on it rhythm. this goes for dialogue too; if it sounds clunky in your mouth, unless its supposed to, it might be a sign to change it up and rephrase a little.

really long paragraphs are really, really, really really hard to read. fics that consistently have paragraphs that go beyond like 6 lines are borderline unreadable to me. i stick it out sometimes but a lot of the time the sight of a fat fucking Block will just make me click out immediately

its also always good to be punchy imo. i mean it depends on what style you're going for but i notice some of the best lines from my writing are just simple, single sentence-paragraph statements lmao

false starts and filler words are what i notice the most when it comes to stuttering, which is a thing pretty much everyone does unless they're speaking very intentionally (i keep it in mind for characters who are motormouths especially because our brains move faster than our mouths do sometimes). especially when people are stressed, they'll usually start with a sentence fragment and then say something completely different because they just found a better way to rephrase it <- its probably the thing i utilize the most. in general though people repeat words more than they t-t-talk l-like t-t-this, and even when i write more dirrect stuttering dialogue i try to make it. idk consonants i guess? sorry idk if this is helpful

i script a lot of my scenes before i write them out, which usually helps me keep things well-paced. i really only include action in the scripts when its in the midst of an action scene or if its relevant to the conversation in some way (or if i just have an idea and want to keep it in mind)

TAKE NOTES WHEN YOU GET IDEAS

save all your cool ideas for your active in progress story instead of storing them away for later. got a line of dialogue or an interaction that you want to put SOMEWHERE? see if you can fit it into your multichapter first, it might help you with ideas. more will come to you in the future with your later projects!!!

you dont need to plan everything out meticulously, most parallels in cw came to me in the midst of me writing them. the motif with raph and donnie and doors was a complete accident, as a good example. it fucks hard though lmao

also when plotting out multichapters i think in what i want to progress before anything else, so there's a sense of direction. with cw it was mostly what parts of cl i wanted to address, although i originally planned to make note of shelldon in like chapter fucking three and then it didnt happen until seventeen LMFAOOOOOOOO

okay thats all i got. im not a good advice giver .... im sowwy

[thesupernaturalhouse]

I like to think, in the hazbins fallen au, the girls have a tranquilizing gun specifically for whenever Seviathan tries to show his face

Vaggie and Emily are more than happy to take shots

Charlie:......*peeks through blinds*

Seviathan: charlieeeeee

Charlie:....*close blinds*....this is why we have a tranq gun- Em can you go tell- oh

*zooms out to show vaggie and Emily already holding the tranq guns, Vaggies trying to hide a smile while Wmily is practically bouncing in place*

Charlie:....have fun?

*In the background*

Angle:...tf???

Husk: I don't even bother anymore.

Angle: That's because you're a sad old man behind a bar counter due to smiles

Husk: I hate you

Angle: love you to baby

[crossbackpoke-check]

Sat politely ankles crossed hands folded please say you have more thoughts about the DC deweys. Lazarus pit cold-eyed stare pristine and bloodthirsty anyway I would love to hear any further thoughts if you have the time + energy + motivation

how i imagine you waiting for me to re-read the resurrection of ra’s al-ghul and hush vol. 1+2:

ALRIGHT. in no particular order, thoughts about the dc deweys

connor fits very well into the mold of a talia al-ghul for me; chip on his shoulder, femme fatale, deadly and precise. he’s not the loudest but he’s got a dry wit that’ll cut you!

“why is connor an al-ghul at all and not batman” well first of all he’s already got the water connection, i’m gonna go dip him into the lake a couple hours north of the pas to make him incredibly long-lived, rejuvenated and beautiful

second of all i want him to be a questionable villain/antihero because he looks evil in those pictures but like beautiful evil. you see him at a multi-million dollar soirée and he’s bored of being there wearing his “heritage” beads and jewels he originally had from a thousand years ago. he and his assassins are only here to murder the head of state who’s planning to lay a pipeline through ancestral grounds

rip brandon duhaime i simply cannot imagine you as any kind of batman. lacks the gravitas, too much of a yapper, loves his wife too much. i curse thee to be green arrow if you’re in this narrative at all

assuming connor stays with toronto, would LOVE to think about toronto as one of the sites of the lazarus pit for many reasons

(a brief aside here to say that for me personally this is interesting if connor goes to winnipeg because i think they suit him better, he’s a manitoba boy, but re: the chip on his shoulder, he’s NOT a manitoba boy. he’s from the pas and very proud of it)

a) the amount of ‘toronto is the center of the universe’ hockey creation myths i can play with & birth/rebirth/reincarnation. if you WANT to feel unhinged trying to blend hockey and comics is an ice rink not just a pool of water?

b) mr. cathal kelly i love your works!!! toronto eats its young!!! thinking about this very literally in the sense of the resurrection arc where players come to toronto and are sacrificed, give up their body, their skill, in service of the demon’s head, and lose themselves.

c) we see echos of the same narratives and styles over and over again—if i can hop over to the flyers for a second, there is of course the curse of the *8s (18 richards, 28 claude, 48 danny b, 68 nolan, 88 lindros) but ALSO the danny brière -> tk -> morgan frost celly chain. every generation a resurrection, emerging clean and new from the pit

can you just briefly hold my hand and imagine wayne gretzky as an evil ra’s al-ghul wanting to possess a new body. gretzky i’m sorry to malign you and i know you never played in toronto but you are the best player in my head to fit the idea, i’m open to other suggestions

coming BACK to green arrow dewey (i did not re-watch arrow or re-read those comics sorry) connor could also be black canary, who takes a brief dip into the lazarus pit (toronto) before getting married to oliver. i do like that narrative but because we were talking about pristine and cold-blooded i figured connor dewar head of the league of assassins was more what you were after

now that i’ve gotten through world building… choose your own adventure narratives?

hockey-ish au: connor chosen as a host for the Next One. i think the lineage of the great one -> next one -> next next one -> next one up of gretzky -> crosby -> mcdavid -> bedard is taken, BUT i can imagine that the league of old boys all have the same intentions. connor gets sent to toronto unknowingly being prepped to get body-snatched by ???? and brandon duhaime of course accidentally stumbles on the plot and they have to fight to stop it

connor assassinating people :) snapshot of the head of the league of assassins delegating which major world events they’re going to change today. would love his shark face from the gifset to have blood spattered across it, ideally.

version 1 as head of the league of assassins: brandon is one of his assassins, big strong bodyguard type. devoted to him, would lay down his life, perfectly designed for connor (lady shiva/cassandra cain-ish). connor orders for something to be done and brandon does it there for him then gently wipes the blood off his face and apologizes for being careless and getting him messy.

version 2 as head of the league of assassins: an actual plot where connor aims to assassinate SOMEONE but brandon gets in the way. they meet at odds as their respective roles (hero, leader of a crime syndicate) but are magnetically drawn together as their alter egos. eventually brandon puts together the pieces of the Big Evil and manages to (legally!-ish as much as vigilante-ism can be legal) take it down and the ending panels show a tentative friendship and recognition of potential shared goals

also, jaromir jágr is immortal. don’t know if this is relevant OR related but he is. personal hot spring lazarus pit?

um. thanks for coming to my 1.5k ted talk (including tags). what a way to moritz seider lore drop that i DID grow up a comic book nerd, lmao. thank you so much for enabling me <3 i'll be here all week thinking about which teams would get what rings in a blackest night au

[boyfrillish]

Omg wait a minute... I had a fanfic idea last night before sleep, I almost forgot...

Featuring a variation of one of my favourite silly concepts: going to a fancy event as partners but not yet a couple

[rustys-lodge]

His ward.

Summary : Sherlock notices a few changes in you. It's sleep, nutrition and....Other things. You're just simply not okay. What's he going to do about that ?

warnings : Talk about lack of nutrition, a bit of angst, as well as poor behavior caused by lack of sleep. And one mention of physical assault.

A/N : First sherlock fic ! yaaay ! I'm so excited to add a new fandom to the Masterlist . So, as some of you might notice, the scene's the same. Just a few changes of my own to fit the story better. And a much better ending that I'm sure a lot of us wanted !! 😂 For those that don't know the scene. Here it is.

-----

"Did i ask you for advice ? I found you on the street. Drunk."

The man froze, turning to face you in a defeating manner.

"Now what may I observe about you ?"

You shook your head. "We're not playing this game."

Let's rewind a few hours back...Where Sherlock was...standing like a crab, balancing himself to not fall drunken face down on the ground. If you hadn't found him and brought him home....You'd say he would've ended up dead, somewhere in a garbage can.

Now Sherlock, thinks otherwise. Mister great detective says it is he, who helped you. How ? God knows how....

He is also saying you should leave....Which...You don't agree with. He needs the help. His place is a mess. he needs cleaning. He needs someone to help him organize the chaos that he's living in...He needs-

"Your eyes are redder than redder than wine." Sherlock started and you take a step back. "You're much slower than you usually are."

"Like you know what i usually am like, Sherlock." Accusations spilled out of your lips, but Sherlock ignores them, simultaneously talking ober you and analyzing you.

"Your face has lost it's color and your wounds are healing very slow."

"You're one to talk, look at you, your hair's more messed up than a-

"And then there's the irritability, you are less-"

"Stop !" Your index found itself inches away from Sherlock's face. And he stops.

"And then there's your nails." Sherlock's voice decreased into a soft tone, yet the sternness was still there. And before you could move your finger away, his hand reached for it. "Your nails are brittle."

You yanked your hand away at his response. "They are n-"

"I wasn't in such a state as to not see that, Y/N." Sherlock leaned closer to your face, the glare in his eyes freezing you in place. And then he kept on blabbering as he walked away from you. And you couldn't help but insult him back concurrently . "You're neither sleeping nor eating. Why is that ?"

Your throat dried up as his words emerged louder and louder. "Sherlock, you- You-How did you-"

"And." Your brother lifted up his arm. God damn it.... "Your neck is red. Someone has gripped it or held a knife against.." a shaky breath replaced that last little word as realization hit Sherlock, his features emulsifying into a state of shock...

Or was it anger ?

Your hand instantly flew up to cover your neck as your gaze darted to the ground. You couldn't help but think about the product of the aftermath. And as the silence grew louder, the images started-

"Are you involved in something dangerous ?" Sherlock broke the silence. Finally. And you glanced away. "Because you are still my ward." Steps grew closer and a second after that, you found yourself towered over by him.

Your foot staggered back. You...You don't n-need him.

"If you need my help, my offer remains on the table." A soft command is what it was...And you couldn't help but thi- "Don't be so desperate to prove yourself, Y/n."

You faltered, scoffing. Is that was he thought it was ? It was that....But did he have to say it ?

"I am not desperate." A fake spark of triumph electrified you. And you found yourself turning on your heels. "And i don't need your- or anyone's hel-"

"Not so fast."

You turned around, somewhat thrilled. "What ?" You spa out.

You might've gotten thrilled. But that doesn't mean you were going to show that to him ?

Your brother threw a glance at you before his gaze fell down. His giant slumped shoulders gave away the desperation and the deceit he was feeling.

Your heart stung at the sight of it.

"What ?" You repeated yourself, a bit louder. Impatience was growing thicker in you. You....Yo-

"If you insist my help is not needed, than i will serve you a plate and i shall observe you e-"

What ? "No!" He can't do that to you !! you're not a pet !

Sherlock raised his hand, motioning for you to stop. "To make sure you are well nurt-"

"No. No." But his attempt to defend himself failed, as you cut him off again, shaking your head violently. How could you not ?? What kind of suggestion is that-

"And you'll sleep here tonight. And then tomorrow you're free to...Not ever come back."

His words pierced through your heart.

"No."

"Okay." Sherlock condensed. And you squinted your eyes at his mischievous s- "Then you're not going anywhere."

There is it ! You...You knew it. Rolling your eyes at him, you tilted your head back as frustration swept over you. "No."

"I'm sorry. But"

"No" You shrugged, turning on your heels. You were not having any of it. Not the accusations, not the suggestion...Nothing. And Sherlock was quite different from Mycroft...He was gentler, sweeter. More loving. That meant : His opinion doesn't matter. After all, who's h-

"Hey !"

You flinched at the sudden yell that echoed through the room. Sherlock's voice was consumed by anger. Hoarse and low, the yell only made whimper unconsciously...And you thanked god your brother was far enough not to hear it. He better not have heard it...

"But Sherlock i-You can't withhold me h-"

"I am not withholding you, sister, I am only seeking your safety and your well-being." The detective's voice simmered down again, almost mirroring yours. The only difference is that you sounded almost weak. He sounded...collected.

"I-"

"If." Sherlock's voice filled the room again. "you do step out of that door, the consequences of that will be solely your responsibility to bear." The softness in his voice sent chills down your spine, as behind it hid a dark pitch that...You weren't sure you wanted to hear again.

With two fingers slightly curved around the door handle, your eyes dart from handle to Sherlock....You reconsidered....Stay and risk him finding out ?(Choice 1) Or Leave and risk...Whatever he has in mind for you ?(Choice 2)

-----

Tell me which choice would you choose ? if anobody wants to be tagged for part 2 tell me. ❤❤❤🌹🌹🌹

[writerseclipse1]

rewarded [joel m.]

inspo: somewhere only we know (keane)

summary: does death look you in the eye before you die? or does life flash your memories in your mind? aka: joel's on death's doorstep; he reminisces your time together

warnings: angst (flashback fluff), canon-typical violence, blood and gore, dialogue follows joel's death scene, vivid descriptions of joel's death, major character death, flashbacks, abby (if u hate her ig), guns, knives, and a golf club as a weapon, crying ellie, cursing, no use of y/n. pls tell me if i missed anything!

word count: 2.7k

‧͙⁺˚*･༓☾ a/n: am so excited to be back into writing! ik i promised a 505-inspired fic w joel but i couldn't help it!

“Joel Miller.” The sadistic sneer in her voice is what causes him to look up at her, groaning in pain as his leg throbs. He can feel the bullet she lodged into his skin.

“Why don’t you say whatever speech you’ve got rehearsed and get this over with.” He said, annoyance evident in his tone, anger flooded his veins as he stared at her with a look that made it clear he was in no mood to mess around. Neither was Abby and she made that clear, especially when she barked out orders to tourniquet Joel’s leg.

He groaned, eyes shutting tight and tilting his head back. He cursed under his breath, leg pulsing and hurting like a bitch. “God damn it!” He started seeing spots of black in his vision, the figures in the room turning into dull, blurry colors.

His chest heaved, trying to regain control of his breathing and his entire being, seeing Abby flip the handle of her weapon in her hands, his blood ran cold, colder than the metal of the golf club she raised in the air.

Her chuckle was a deep rumble in her chest, the corner of her lip twitching upwards as she murmured. “You don’t get to rush this old man.”

Whack.

“Hey!” The plastic material of the frisbee dug into his palms slightly as he caught it. Jackie, one of the bigger kids in town, inched carefully to Joel and he handed the disc back, but not without a pointed look. “Watch where you’re throwin’ next time.” She uttered out a meek apology, all but running back toward her friends and almost instantly resumed their game.

Snow crunched under his boots as he walked, his feets leaving tracks in the snow. The sound of children laughing and birds chirping filled his ears, a beautiful memory he had come to love. The wind whipped at his face as the chilly air bit his skin but he paid it no mind. Not when she was right there, full of warmth even in just the palm of her hand.

His hand reached out to grasp hers once more as they continued walking, his grip a slight squeeze but if she noticed anything, she said nothing. His eyes were restless, occasionally sneaking a glance to get a glimpse of her, in all her glory. The way her eyes rivaled the stars in the clear night sky, the way she graced passersby with her smile, the way her presence warmed up his heart, the heart he once thought was trapped under all these layers of ice, only to be melted by an unexpected yet welcome gift.

His train of thought derailed once he was pulled back, almost colliding with a child who looked no older than seven. After muttering out an apology and a small ‘I told them to watch it”, his eyes rolled and glared at her playfully when he heard her get engulfed in a fit of giggles that she tried hard to control.

“Think that’s funny, do ya?” He pretended to be offended, turning around to poke her in the ribs and smirking as she let out a squeal.

“Joel!” He laughed as she tried to chase him down the street, his longer legs taking him further and her voice getting distant. It wasn’t until his legs slowed down to a step that she caught up, wrapping an arm around his waist as she saw his somber expression. Following his gaze, you saw Ellie on Dina’s front porch, the two focused on each other. Ellie had her arms wrapped around Dina, her head atop the girl while Dina’s nose brushed the skin of Ellie’s neck, her sniffles being muffled by the material of Ellie’s sweater.

From the corner of his eye, he could see your lips spread out into a grin, closing his eyes with a sigh when he felt your lips brush his cheek, muttering a small “Thank you.”

“For what? You got nothin’ to thank me for, darlin’.” Eyes now on the woman beside him, he noticed your focus stray from the two girls back to him, your walking only slowing down but not stopping.

“For being a lover,” you whispered back, pulling back to look up at him. “Maybe your fighter days are over.”

He shook his head as they passed Ellie and Dina yet his eyes never left her once. “I ain’t stoppin’ my fightin’ days, baby. ‘Cause I fight for you everyday.” His eyes wrinkled at the corners as he smiled when he heard you laugh, not noticing that the attention of the two girls moved to you and him, watching as you walked further away.

Good thing Dina buried her head in Ellie’s shoulder just in time for you to look back and send Ellie a wink, a soft pink hue spreading on her cheeks as yours and Joel’s footfalls started to fade.

Thud, thud, thud.

It was all that echoed in his ears as his heart pounded in his chest, his ribs taking the damage Abby’s boot was inflicting on his body, all while he lay helplessly on the floor. He felt bile crawl up his throat and out his mouth when the girl kicked his stomach. His eyes widened slightly when he realized that it wasn’t bile, but blood.

Abby let out a huff, pacing in front of his body and if Joel could let out a sigh of relief, he would, but it hurt to even breathe. He choked on his own blood, his head lolling to the side as he spat out blood, the red liquid coating his lips and dripping to the floor. She looked at him with a mixture of anger and disgust, the former more evident as she readied her weapon again.

Yet her intentions were the farthest thing from his thoughts, feeling a familiar warmth spread across his body as his mind brought him back to a time of safety, of care, of arms wrapped around him and lips pressed to his skin.

Before he could feel the shattering impact of the metal club, he closed his eyes and thought—

“This is stupid,” he muttered and you only shook your head. The two stood on the front porch, in front of the wooden column on the right. Digging your hand into your pocket, you flipped open your pocket knife and he watched you flip it in your hands. He still remembers the time you first held it in your palm.

There was nothing to your relationship at first, with the exemption of watching each other’s backs during patrols outside the walls. He took the reins during missions and when he first saw it, untouched and sitting pretty in a gardener’s shed they passed by, his first thought was to give it to you to make sure you had a weapon that “didn’t let you shoot your goddamn ass off.”

Never would he expect that the same sharp blade that has sliced a man’s throat and lodged itself in an infected’s chest would be the same blade that would carve your initials on his front porch.

“Come on, Joel, stop being such an old grump,” you pouted, taking his hand and wrapping it around the hilt before your own came up to rest on his. He let out a chuckle when you guided his hand, from the curve of the J to the lines of your own initial. Both of you stepped back slightly to admire your work but he tilted his head at you when he heard you hum.

“Something’s missing,” you murmured, eyes casting downward as you thought. He always admired you when you were deep in the recesses of your mind, how your eyebrows pinched together and how your lips pursed. He fought the urge to kiss your lips until you were giggling against his. “Aha!”

He watched you move forward, your body covering most of the carving as you added a detail. When you stepped back, he couldn’t contain his chuckle. You had added two hearts that sat beside each other, one bigger than the other. Your eyebrows furrowed again, this time not in thought but in mock indignation. “And why are you laughing?”

“Nothin’ honey, it’s cute!” He reasoned but you only huffed, facing the opposite way. He let out an audible scoff but he licked his lips, a mischievous smile taking over his expression. Wrapping his arms around you, he carried you into the house, ignoring your protests and your wriggling motions as he laid you down on the couch, kissing you deeply.

It shut you up for the rest of the afternoon.

“What? Cat got your tongue now?” Abby scoffed, hitting him again and again without abandon. Joel didn’t speak, every inch of his face covered in blood. He felt like he was drowning, swimming in a pool of his own blood with each drop of the weapon.

BANG!

At first he thought it was the club, striking his head hard that his skull cracked open but when he opened his eyes, he saw Ellie, a hand wrapped around her gun tightly as she tried to shoot but to no avail. Pinned down, the girl could only watch as Joel struggled to breathe, his chest rising and falling with every shaky breath.

A man who was certainly younger than him started talking, barking out orders to people in the room but Joel couldn’t hear a single thing with the ringing in his ears and the pounding in his head. But he could guess what it was when Abby snarled down at him, her hands wrapping tightly around the club as she raised it. And just as quickly as it rose, it fell.

“JOEL!

“Joel!” He turned his head, closing his eyes as he tried to gain his composure, breathing in like how he was taught by his momma when he got mad. Slowly in, slowly out. In through the nose, out through the—

“Joel Miller! Don’t you dare walk away from this conversation!” So much for composure.

“And what? Huh? I’ll let you go out there on a stupid horse with a stupid partner Tommy paired you up with and then what? What if you get hurt, what then? What’ll I do? Beat ‘ em up for not keepin’ an eye on you? It wouldn’t be his fault, wouldn’t it? No it wouldn’t, because you,” he pressed his finger against your chest, “Didn’t listen to me!”

“Why are you already assuming I’ll get hurt? Do you think I’m that helpless?” Your jaw ticked and from the corner of his eye, your hand twitched and balled itself into a fist. Everything was going so well for him but he had to hit a bump in the road somewhere. “I asked you a question.” His thoughts were out of order but Joel was a patient man to the right people, he didn’t want to say the wrong thing.

“No! No I don’t but—”

“Then why are you so—”

“Because if something happened to you, I dunno what I’d do with myself!” He yelled and his heart froze when you stepped back, surely taken aback from what he did. He didn’t mean to do that, he didn’t mean to yell.

“I know.” His eyes locked with yours, scanning your expression. He didn’t mean to say that out loud. Seeing the guilt in your unshed tears he sighed, shaking his head. His fists unclenched and he stretched his fingers as he took in a breath, closing his eyes. In through the nose, out through the mouth. In through the nose, out through the—

Arms snaked around him, like vines creeping around an abandoned brick house that has definitely seen better days, fingers interlocking behind him so that he couldn’t escape. Like I want to leave in the first place, he thought as he felt your cheek fall against his chest and your ear press against his heart.

When Joel would encounter danger and violence, his heart wouldn’t beat like a sinner’s caught in church, fast and swift, no. His heart followed a rhythm. Du dum, du dum, du dum, always steady and strong. It reflects how he is, always biding his time, saving his energy until he’s ready to strike. 

He could practically feel your shoulders slump as you heard his heart beating, steady and strong. Du dum, du dum, du dum.

“I’m sorry,” you choked out and he only realized the tears that dripped like water from a broken faucet; dripping one-by-one yet loud and clear. His body moved on autopilot, arms wrapping around you before he could even clear his head and rubbing his hand up and down your back, resting his chin on the top of your head. “I didn’t mean to make you feel like—”

“I know.” He smothered kisses into your hair and he felt your shoulders lighten and your chest rumble with a sniffle before a chuckle. He could feel your pout through the thin material of his button-up, putting a hand on your cheek and tilting your head up, staring into your soul like it was a window without blinds. “I only want you to be safe. You’re the reason why I wake up in the morning, why I sit on the porch and wave to people I barely give a damn about, why I water the flowers outside our house because you love it when the house looks so lively even from the outside. You’re the reason why I care about the little things. I don’t want you, my reason to come back home, not come back home.”

He felt you sniffle into his chest, nodding as you pulled slightly back. “I get it. I just…”

“Hey, let’s talk about it in the morning, yeah? We got plenty’a time,” he whispered, brushing back a strand of hair wet from your tears, giving you a kiss on the forehead. “We got plenty’a time.”

For the first time in Joel’s life, he lied to you that night. He just didn’t know it yet. 

He was sorry.

He’ll always be sorry.

Even after his dying breath, he knew that sorry can’t reverse his mistakes. That was like trying to put a bandaid on a porcelain plate. He was an idiot.

A Stupid. Fucking. Idiot.

He thought it was safe.

It was winter, it shouldn’t’ve even been there. It should have been freezing in one of the fucking rivers or something.

It was his fault.

All of it.

“Baby?” His breath caught in his throat as he watched your body, his figure as unmoving as you were. He inched closer, crouching down to you, looking away from the infected he killed with its mouth open and brains splattered everywhere. He saw red, maybe it was the blood on his shirt. Whose was it? He didn’t want to know.

“Baby?” His voice echoed, asking again and foolishly enough, he expected an answer. He only saw your eyes staring back at him, distant, unwavering, unmoving.

Gone.

He shook his head and shut his eyes, unwilling to see, unwilling to believe. “Baby? You–you gotta wake up for me, honey. No, no, you can’t—” He choked, covering his mouth with the palm of his hand as his eyes filled with tears. Tears you’ll never get to wipe with the pad of your thumb. He cradled your face gently, like you were still sleeping but with your eyes open, like you didn’t see the infected coming at you and he didn’t see it too, like you were lying in a pool of your own blood, like he was the cause of it.

Like he didn’t know what he was going to do.

His chest was engulfed in wracking sobs, sobs that would make the merciless merciful, sobs that would make the follower the leader, sobs that would make the dead live.

He prayed that was the case. It wasn’t.

And it never will be.

Not even when Ellie cried at his chest, her eyes screwed tight and muttering apologies, recounting old memories, anything to get Joel back, yet even the man knew he himself was already gone. Ellie was wrapped up in her anguish and her pain to notice the distant but hopeful look in Joel’s eyes, shaking his body like it would shock him back to life. But life rewarded the patient, not the vengeful.

Joel had been a patient man all his life and he knew it.

And when he saw you, surrounded by a circle of light and an arm outstretched, he knew he had been rewarded.

[stevie-petey]

Decided to just send this in directly but! I have explanations for everything so buckle in bc when i say i have brain rot about this fic I MEAN IT ITS SO GOOD

1. BI BUG CONFIRMATION. ENOUGH SAID.

2. I will never forget reading that scene from season 1 of steve driving bug home w her bike in his trunk and her all flustered about it and i dont super remember what time of day it was in the scene but in my head it was right after sunset where the sun has set but its light creates this contrast that makes everything look cool toned in comparison to whats in the light n i wanted to play w that in the coloring also im a sucker for steve n his big arms so this was almost entirely self indulgent

3. The cardigan bc i needed to. I re read that chapter constantly it gives me all the warm n fuzzies and thats good for the soul

4. The phones were both an “i need to put this in here immediately bc my brain never stops thinking about it” and a filler for blank space. The colors for each are tied to what s3 bug and what s3 are associated w in my head like you cannot tell me bug isnt soft ivory coded and steve is not light grey-blue coded in s3 it just feels right for them (plus i needed to reference the nicknames at least once my very soul craved it)

5. Dustins hat was a lil bit of a last minute thing, i was working on a bigger piece w all of this kids n their looks for season 3 but it wasnt coming out the way i wanted it to so i scrapped it but i still wanted a something in there that wasnt steve or bug related and it felt fitting to put in dustins camp know where cap both bc of his relationships w steve n bug and bc every now and then i think about how dustin felt ditched by the party at the beginning and how heartbreaking that scene was when i read it n how much i just wanted to hug the lil guy bc feeling lonely at an age like that is so devastating it made my heart hurt for him so i wanted to have a lil thing for dustin in there somewhere

6. In the show i really liked the whole bit w steve asking girls out and robin keeping score n before you wrote this scene i was curious as to how you were going to go about it and it ended up cracking me up dude i love that scene if him just being awkward and so not “king steve” suave and i needed to put down how my brain saw that scene to something visual bc it was so ugh hes such a dork i love steves himbo self

7. Follow up is the lil doodle of steve n robin running around high as hell and there was no way i wasnt going to include that somehow if i am given the chance to write the phrase “trash popcorn” and draw robin frolicking i will take it with both hands and bolt

8. Going back to the whole “steve is a desaturated light blue in s3” thing i just wanted an excuse to draw my boy being cute in my head this is when hes helping bug put away books at her job and yes the anatomy is a lil wonky but i luv him and his hair swoops and joes side profile is so very fun to draw <3

Over all come home is wonderful n amazing and i love it n ur brain is so big n full of wrinkles

i genuinely cried when i first saw this im not kidding. im speechless, its so fucking beautiful and everything you drew from the fic is captured SO perfectly i cannot even begin to explain how much this means to me :(((( thank you so so so so much. truly.

the DETAILS ???? you brought the cardigan to life. its exactly how i envisioned it in my head, its BEAUTIFUL :((((( and bug being ivory and steve a blue ,,,, god you really truly nailed this i again cannot put into words how PHENOMENAL this is. the telephone lines being connected with their nicknames, steve carrying a box of books at bugs job, him driving and the setting sub (which you got EXACTLY. it was the same i envisioned in my head writing that scene), the bi colors on the lady bug like are u kidding me !!!! youre insane and i LOVE YOU !!!

steve n high robin doodle is so <333 and the steve scene at scoops with his flustered monologue in the background made me giggle so hard oh my god.

i know you dont know this, but my birthday is tomorrow and this is the best gift ive ever been given. i want to frame the doodles and put it on my bedroom wall because i am astounded and in awe of your talent and still so baffled my fic was brought to life !!!!! its mind boggling and i cannot thank you enough for this experience <333

(obviously with ur permission in reference to wanting to print n frame the doodles because theyre so dear to me and i respect ur talent !!)

[hidey-writes]

six sentence saturday

Flat on his back in the hospital bed, Gu Yiran rasps, “Zheng Bei, you look like shit.”  Zheng Bei looks like he hasn’t slept, hasn’t even changed out of his clothes since the rescue last night. He smells like smoke and fire and gunpowder. There’s a streak of blood dark against the side panel of his jacket, and from the placement Gu Yiran can't tell if it's Zheng Bei's or not. “You—” Zheng Bei says jerkily, and can’t seem to finish his sentence.  From somewhere behind Gu Yiran, Xiaoguang calls, “Ran-ge, maybe you haven’t seen it yet, but you look a lot worse than he does!”

i'm no longer exactly sure where this fic is going but i am sloooooowly feeling my way through it. this bit is from somewhere at the start, it's been really fun picking and choosing what parts of the canon "gu yiran wakes up" scene (and stuff afterward) i want to keep versus what parts to just nod at as a teaster and then totally change to fit my own desires >:)

[frownyalfred]

i gotta ask because I keep doing this to myself [and i am not procrastinating i swear] but how often do you write yourself into a corner?

I don't mean like into a plot hole but like you write and write and then like you realize what you wrote doesn't fit the tone of the scene or its irrelevant or its a plot point that came up too soon or the characters are taking the story in a direction that doesn't serve the plot?

Do you just delete it? do you save it as a snippet idea somewhere?

I am deep in the delete it and occasionally save a snippet if its not trash era myself

Oof, yeah it definitely happens sometimes. I absolutely hate it. It ruins my mood for several days and I have to go walk it off when I realize what's happened.

I think the sooner you realize you're veering off course, the easier it is to salvage. I usually delete and start over, but I've started doing a mini post-mortem on why it isn't working -- that's essential so you don't do the same thing all over again.

Usually big parts of that chunk are salvageable, especially dialogue! Or they're useful elsewhere and just not in that spot in particular. Sometimes I save stuff for a future chapter or I add it into a little elseworld fic (see my ASOH spin offs) so it's not wasted.

A good example of this for me was the ending to borderline. I wrote a whole sideplot about Gotham, Bruce, and Damian that didn't really end up serving the main plot and actually negated the conclusion of the fic. But I really liked what I'd written, so that was a tough moment. However, a lot of those lines ended up being repurposed in the dialogue for Gotham later on in that same chapter, so I didn't feel totally foolish.

But yeah, big take away is -- it happens, I've done it, and usually your brain is trying to help you! Don't throw it all away unless you really have to. Utilize those pieces or lines or ideas elsewhere. Use them as unreleased backstory in your notes. Chuck them into a sequel once the plot is wrapped up. Etc.

[crazylittlejester]

DAILY BRAINROT

I'm very scatterbrained today, so please excuse the multiple topic changes. 😅

The Sky angst WIP is in progress, and I accidentally started a new WIP that is Hyrule angst. I think pretty much all the Hyrule angst I've read takes place in forest regions, so naturally I had to take it upon myself to write something that happens in The Great Sea. Legend is not the only one who deserves island-related trauma.

Still thinking about the academia AU, too. Sun has a bachelors degree in aviation, like Sky (it's how they met) and one in religious studies. She's decided to get her graduate degree in religious studies and may or may not have a side gig with Sky flying little bitty planes for a tourist place because they're both crazy and think they can somehow fit that into their schedules.

LU EAH AU is still in progress! It's just going very, very slowly, and I need to remember to review some of my source material because I keep forgetting to do that. I also need to finish up the fic about Fi's backstory and figure out a cool title for it. The AU itself will likely be Linked Ever After unless I think of something cooler.

Also, I was writing a scene with Legend & Sky and needed to do some quick fact-checking and recipe-searching and DID YOU KNOW THAT THERE IS AN ALCOHOLIC BEVERAGE THAT'S MADE OUT OF HORSE MILK!?

Anyway, the scene in question is another attempt at letting Legend be soft and chill because he is Too Old for This Shit. The actual recipe I ended up using was basically warm milk with pumpkin pie spices and maple syrup because Legend just gives off warm milk vibes. He knows what works, and he's going to do it, and if anyone tries to give him grief over it, he'll just smack them right good.

Side tangent: as much as I want to say that Warriors is the best with self-care, I think it's really more Legend's thing. Time also looks like he has everything together, but he is totally panicking and masking (pun intended) 24/7 with rare exceptions. Legend is the one who's had enough of this shit and figured out what does and doesn't actually help his physical and mental health. He's obviously not perfect at it, but he's the closest to an actual role model most of them have, just because he's trying to live his best life (partly out of spite).

Warriors is still the one who drags Twilight to therapy, though.

i so desperately needed the daily brainrot, i caught this 35 seconds after it appeared in my asks

You’re so real for that. I have a Hyrule angst wip in my drafts somewhere titled ‘Hyrule Drowns’… I don’t- I don’t think I have to explain further (he doesn’t DIE but I AM gonna throw him in a lake. Shoutout to @/carelessapples for this one because if I remember correctly, this was sort of their idea/i am writing it for them)

I LOVE THAT SO MUCH YOU HAVE NO IDEA.

LINKED EVER AFTER. 10/10, I LOVE IT. I’m so excited for that au, but take ur time man. I know it’ll be awesome

THERES A FUCKING WHAT NOW??? (and yeah Legend DOES give off warm milk vibes)

Oh yeah no, Time is masking most of the time bro does NOT have it together like, at all, I so agree. I love the idea of Wars just DRAGGING Twi to therapy kicking and screaming. Legend definitely has things figured out by now, though I am of the personal belief that he’s horrible at explaining it to the others and helping THEM with stuff. I headcanon he’s better at self care for himself than helping the others take care of themselves but he’s doin’ his best 😔

[ejzah]

Can you write a fanfic about what if the team discovered Deeks was a cop before his and Sam's jail scene. Like what if Kensi and Deeks actually fought in the house, but during that exact moment, Beale finds out and drops the bomb on Kensi and Deeks and that leads to a whole new story. I hope you'll please consider it.

A/N: Oh, Anon, I am so sorry that this has been sitting in my inbox for so long. I changed a few little things to fit the scenario. I’m not sure if this was intended to lead to a multi-chap fic, but for now I’ll leave it at this scene.

***

A Different Path

Kensi had never met anyone as infuriating as Jason Wyler in her life. From the moment he’d walked over from a punching bag in the MMA gym, he’d questioned her, smirked her, and generally made a nuisance of himself. At the moment, he was impeding her ability to gather evidence. She almost hoped he turned out to be involved in Zuna’s death so she could have the pleasure of arresting him.

“Or maybe you found what you were looking for before I got here,” he was saying, not playing into Kensi’s attempt to flirt. “Maybe you found some cash. Maybe you should empty those pockets.” He stared her down, not moving any closer, and she didn’t know if it was the intensity of his blue eyes or the implicit threat, but she felt a shiver move up her spine.

“Don’t touch me,” she warned, discreetly reaching for her gun tucked in her waistband.

“Then show me you didn’t take anything from of mine or Zuna’s.” He tilted his head to the side, challenging her just a hint of a smirk playing at his lips, though his eyes remained tight and wary. She resisted the urge to move back.

“Or I could punch you in the face,” she offered from between her teeth, not quite managing the light tone she’d intended. He fully grinned at that.

“You can try,” he drawled. Kensi tensed, caught between kicking him somewhere that would be sure to shut him up or pulling her gun on him.

Her phone buzzing insistently in her pocket, and after a moment of consideration she answered, keeping an eye on Jason Wyler the entire time. He had moved back ever so slightly, still close, in her space.

“Let me guess, that’s another boyfriend you sent dirty pictures to,” Wyler said, tilting his head to the side in a way that made her want to snap back at him. She didn’t know how he could joke and stare her down at the same time.

“It’s my boss. Beale, this isn’t a good time,” she hissed as she held the phone to her ear. She was a little surprised that Wyler expected her explanation or her answering at all.

“Kensi, are you with Jason Wyler?” Eric asked, a note of tension in his voice that had her reaching for her gun again. Wyler watched her just as warily, his hand creeping behind his back too.

“Yes,” she responded shortly.

“Ok, we were right, he’s not actually Jason Wyler.” She gripped the butt of her gun at Eric’s confirmation. “He’s an LAPD detective.”

“Wait, can you repeat that?” She must have heard Eric wrong. There was no way the sketchy guy in front of her was a cop.

“He’s an LAPD Detective named Marty Deeks. Hetty wants you to stand down immediately,” Eric repeated, emphasizing the last part.

“Got it, thanks,” she said distractedly, hanging up.

“That wasn’t your boss, was it?” Wyler—Deeks asked.

“No, and you’re not Jason Wyler. You’re an LAPD Detective.” His mouth dropped open slightly at her answer, then faster than she had thought possible, he had his gun aimed directly at her.

“Wait, stand down detective,” she said slowly. Raising her hands above her waist, she resisted the instinct to attack. “I’m a federal agent with NCIS.” She expected the usual question about the agency, but instead recognition crossed his face, and he relaxed every so slightly.

“Let me see your badge,” he requested, and Kensi retrieved her wallet from her other back pocket. He took it with his free hand, eyes roving over her picture and the accompanying information for several seconds.

Despite her annoyance at the situation, she couldn’t help but approve of his caution. It would be stupid to take her at her word.

Apparently satisfied, he snapped the wallet closed, and handed it back. “Special Agent Kensi Blye. I knew you didn’t look like one of Danny’s girls. Sorry about almost shooting you.”

“Well, I almost kicked you, so I’d say we’re even.”

He snorted at that, his mouth quirking up in a half smirk.

“So, Kensi Blye, care to tell me why you’re screwing up my undercover operation?” he asked, crossing his arms over his chest. “I’ve been under for months.”

“That’s impressive. Unfortunately, my team has been tasked with investigating Daniel Zuna’s death,” Kensi explained. “I’m afraid that’s going to take priority over whatever you’re involved in.”

“Yeah, that’s not happening,” Deeks said confidently. “Come on, my boss is going to wanna talk to your boss.”

God, he was infuriating. Kensi had to fight against the inexplicable desire to smile as he headed for the door. She could tell he was going to be trouble.

***

A/N: I hope this was ok and not too different from canon events.

Thanks for the prompt!

[thunder-point]

i am actually so seated for jealous peem and im going to need you to elaborate m’am

!!! I thought more about it. Jealous Peem would fit so good in the context of a 'Phum helps Toey get together with Q' fic.

Because I can totally see Phum being so focused on trying to help his little bro that he doesn't even realize how it looks from Peem's perspective at all. And like Alan said in the tags, Peem is just so confused because the guy he sorta likes but doesn't want to admit he likes is now following his best friend everywhere and trying to befriend him???? He's just so confused, and that confusion morphs gradually into a jealousy that encompasses everything.

And I think Peem is jealous in the same way he's everything else. Like, it's not a bold thing, but it also isn't like Phum's jealousy where he just puts a wall up and tries to avoid it due to insecurities and such. I think would be the type to show it more, perhaps even one where he asks Phum directly "what's up with you?" I can TOTALLY imagine a scene where Phum is like, looking for Q and Peem is like "why are you after my best friend all of a sudden?" And Phum sees Q walking somewhere behind and he's so keen on that, that he doesn't even realize what Peem really asked, or the gentle furrow of his brows. He just pats Peem on the shoulder once and says in a hurry "I'll see you later." And Peem is like??? Because the guy who would have found any AND ALL reason to tease him for being interested in what Phum does is suddenly not teasing him anymore??? What even???

Maybe even angst because of it. Oh, I can totally imagine the angst. It could go in so many directions. But ultimately I really like the scenario where Peem can't take it anymore and corners Phum about it. Alan put it in my head and now I can't get it out.

Oh OH imagine Peem suddenly showing up to places to take Phum by the hand to eat and stuff and everyone is like "????" and Phum is also ??? but not displeased. And Peem is just, so confused and wanting things to go back to normal and for Phum to stop asking him about his best friend already-

SO MANY possibilities, star. I can't believe no one entertained Jealous Peem until now. I need it to be a thing so badly.

[melkyt]

Tara rests on Astarions' shoulder, having switched somewhere halfway through their walk through this forest that can be best described as dark and spooky. Vampires and their dramatic attention to aesthetics make this place feel like less of a threat to Gale. It is just objectively funny.

They notice a shed, or maybe a small house to the side. It's hard to make it out in the haze. Gale, with a gentle tap, points it out "Let's take a break. I am getting mighty peckish"

Astarion takes a breath, forced and stilted from dead lungs, which is just a further hint at how nervous he is, the closer they get to Cazadar's 'lair' or secondary lair. It was a lot of semantics covered in a short time, and with everything else going on, Gale can't say he was listening.

The door creaks, warped from the damp fog. Inside is a foyer that is as fine as one in Waterdeep. Does not fit the muck outside. Gale has half a mind to take his shoes off. His mother did teach him well but that would be too much respect to show Cazador. Whose portrait, almost larger than the room hangs in the center between two curling staircases.

Astarion freezes, unsteady shaking eyes looking at his old master's face. His hands shake, and he clasps them just not to show the pulsing fear. Gale has seen him in a worse state before, but it is a habit. One must never show fear.

Tara curls tighter around him, nuzzling his cheek. Since they met, she has taken to the young vampire. "Is that the bastard?" She casts a gaze at the painting, less than impressed. "Is that current?"

Astarion swallows, nodding. He is trying with every fiber to regain his composure. It is not working. Gale is back at his side, tilting his head as he reaches a handout. Astarion nods once again to show that he is okay with touch and that he needs it even. Gale wraps the man into a hug. Astarion hides his face in the folds of the purple tunic, its fabric travel-worn and rough to the skin, but he is past the point of caring. Low sniffles escaping his throat are muffled, and Astarion is glad for it.

"Pishposh. That's a vampire lord?" She snorts, stepping from Astarion's shoulders to Gale, spreading her wings to cover the ghastly portrait. "Don't even have his wings yet. That's just a weak little brat playing at Lord,"

Astarion chokes back a sniffle, looking up, a brow raised.

"Quite so Mr. Anacuin." Tara does not need him to voice his disbelief. "See with age every self-respecting vampire leaves behind their mortal form and changes accordingly" She looks over at the painting. "This boy isn't even a millennia, please." Tara huffs, settling down, her wings all ruffled.

Astarion laughs, it's weak at first but then turns genuine. The idea of *Cazador* being called a boy in the way a mother would chide her toddler is the best thing he has heard in his two hundred years of life.

"It's good to see you laugh" Gale reassuringly squeezes the man's shoulders. "Thanks, Tara." He nods at the Tressym

"My pleasure. Mr. Dekarios" Her fur bristles and a purr builds. "Now, you two head upstairs while I do much-needed redecorating." There is a glint of mischief in her eye, and claws sink into Gale's tunic, pulling strands loose.

"Are you good with staying here?" Gale brushes strands of hair away from those red tear-stained eyes.

"Yes, of course, darling" He still shoots an uneasy glance at the large portrait. "It very much beats *camping*"

Gale chuckles, turning so that one arm is still around Astarion, and his body is blocking Cazador's smug face. That is how they walk upstairs of this much too fancy house.

(Little scene I wanted to jot down that will go in my fic here eventually :3)

[starshifter]

this it it...all the notes for the main fic... wow....

-

This chapter is titled "It Never Ends" in Scrivener….if that tells you anything about how much this fic spun out of my control 😅 whoops. I had zero of this except the very last scene in my plans for this fic. I told my friend he should take me out sniper style if I tried to add even more because I’d already spent two months on writing this and had all my editing to go back and do still. He did not stop me from adding more. Betrayal.

But yeah, there wasn’t originally any Belobog, much less any getting into Blade’s stalking and brief appearance as Smiling Black Dragon. I couldn’t resist the opportunity though, especially since I don’t think that event is very well known? Maybe it was just me who didn’t know though, cause I joined the fandom late.

Did Serval canonically ever visit the Express? I know we had that quest about her planning to join up, but she didn’t go through with it. I don’t know if she ever got around to a casual visit, so I’m saying it still hasn’t happened. Also that Himeko and Welt still haven’t visited Belobog. All for the sake of one dumb joke about people mistaking Blade for Welt cause they’ve never met Welt. I’m not funny -_-

The entirety of belobog: is it rude to ask a hero why they suddenly have horns and pointy ears? Maybe this is normal for people from beyond the sky? I think it should be shared somewhere that one of my edit notes on this fic was: "Make Shard Sword his emotional support sword." Because I am still laughing to myself about that They are both losers. DH had to go to the girls for date ideas because he is a nerd with nerd hobbies. Blade, meanwhile, has no hobbies other than stalking because depression and PTSD. And they want to date??? Tragic.

Dan Heng can be impulsive and emotional (still laughing about Taoran, though there was definite forethought put into that one. Get fucked, shit-breather), but at the end of the day, he’s a very rational and level-headed person. I think I struck a decent balance between these things in that last argument… But I do worry that I’ve made Dan Heng too much of a doormat at times 😭He’s not being a doormat, I promise. He’s just trying to think things through and be understanding. He doesn't like to act before having a decent idea of the full picture.

Also, for all that Blade very much doesn’t worship Bibi, he really puts him up on a pedestal sometimes. Like, damn, son. You know he’s just some guy, and you still think the whole world of him. That’s gay.

And talk about finding the most creepy, stalker-ish way to say “I love you.” Guess that fits Blade tho lmao Also wtf you mean you got nothing else left? Smh, you got all of the Stellaron Hunters at your back and you know it!! Ugh, talk about self-centered and idiotic

I know in my heart that DH’s briefcase is filled with books rather than anything sensible. I know it. The writers of the game came to me in a prophetic dream and told me directly.

Not me pushing my ‘preceptor conspiracy’ theories (…theyre basically confirmed at this point, right? Maybe not the bloomborn scion thing (yet) but the sedition being a set up, yeah?)

Blade has the opportunity to do the FUNNIEST (read: most fucked up) thing on their anniversary (the literal heart presenting thing made me laugh more than it should. Just imagine dh’s traumatized expression and blade not understanding the problem. Kafka said this was what you’re supposed to do… Ah, fuck, wait)

Why is the Astral Express playing the Farming Game? Because it was the first thing that came to mind when I needed a random game to give them. I considered Catan as well, but I didn’t feel like looking up the rules and it’s been a while since I last played. I don’t know how you would cheat at the farming game. I honestly do not. The Nameless are just that powerful.

Kafka’s relationship with Blade strikes me as more distant than the other two Hunters just because Kafka is like that. She holds everyone at a distance. She’s Blade’s friend, for sure, but she’s the person he goes to when he wants a distraction from his thoughts. She’s not someone he calls just to chat with or hang out. They're working on it tho

No smut for y’all. Like, two thirds of the tag is smut, so I feel no guilt over this. My ace ass does not need to find out if I can write convincing porn yet. (Because I refuse to serve anything except the finest quality smut, but I’ve never tried writing it before, ok? Maybe someday in the future I’ll give it a shot, but this fic has already become far too long)

I fully and truly believe that Blade would not have been ready to accept anything except murder-suicide with Dan Heng if he hadn’t had the Stellaron Hunters to support him moving back towards being human. You know the drill: found family, cold dead hands, etc, etc

I don’t think Blade’s suicidal ideation can be solved so easily. He’s spent too long suffering and wishing for death. That kind of thing lingers. He’s going to continue wishing for death, but now he’s willing to live as well, and I think that’s real progress plus a good place to leave him.

[emmanuellececchi]

Not-Yet-Written-Fics Game

AKA 4 liners outlines in my Scrivener files that no-one asked for but maybe I'll write ✨someday✨

Thanks for the tag @erathene 😘 As you did I added the probability of writing it... Maybe

1 - When Eomer got a hair cut. Way back when I was younger I imagined this that Eomer got capture by orcs and that they had cut his gorgeous hair. Not so long ago I exchanged with @konartiste about it and put a few lines in a file. Eomer got captured, hair cut, eored filled with mutuals as horse lord (thought it would be funny), Eomer feeling ashamed in front of his Queen, until he feels her nails rakes through his short hair, and feels her kissing his neck... That's it. That's the plot. Probability of being written: 1/10 - Already lots of things on my plate. Maybe a scene somewhere... Or a one shot. For now, it will stay in my files.

2 - Valisthea University. FUNNY AU for Final Fantasy XVI. Where every dominants is a Uni Professor. each of them in a depatment fitting with their personality/powers. No plot. Just shenanigan on a campus with professors acting like adolescent, love and gossip, all fun no drama. Maybe an OC, maybe not. Just a fleeting ideas among the sea of ideas I have. Probability of being written : 1/10 - Simply because I have already so much WIP for FF16, this one is just... too much. Although it could be one shot compiled in a non coherent story... Maybe I just bumped the probability by one... So 2/10

3 - Dark Phoenix. DARK FF16 AU Where Joshua turns evil after learning the Undying actually killed his brother. Once again. No plot. just an exchange of ideas with @cantanatova. Probability of being written : 0/10 - Even when I am making his life even more miserable, I want Joshua to have a happy ending. This cannot end good... So I don't feel I'll be able to write it.

4 - The Warden of Shadow. DARK FF16 AU where there are only two dominants Light and Darkness AKA Dion Lesage and Barnabas Tharmr. All the other are allies from one side or the other. In this one Barnabas capture someone of Dion's family to have a child and make the child the next Warden of Darkness but imbue with the power of light. Goal being to have someone able to overpower Dion and conquer the whole world. The child is growing up without love and is teached war, fights, and so on. Sleipnir watches over the child who is a daughter. This is a twisted relationship as Sleipnir, is actually an spirit/egi from a third, forgotten power : Shadow. At one point Barnabas will want to break the twisted bond between Sleipnir and the girl in order to break the girl and make her the perfect vessel. All hell break loose, And the girl claim the Shadow power. The last scene is of the girl and Sleipnir looking over a battle field where Darkness and Light are fighting and reading to wreak chaos on both side. Probability of being writen : 7/10 - Barnabas and Sleipnir are bad guys in the game and I have no trouble giving them hell. And I found the twist of having another set of "bad guys" or non aligned guys to just break everything without a care in the world.

I have many others but I'll just list this 4. It actually helped me while writing about them so thanks again @erathene!

Let's send a no-pressure tag to @konartiste @from-the-coffee-shop-in-edoras and @quillofspirit and everybody else who would like to share with us! @ass-deep-in-demons and @frodothefair: I am tagging you but you already posted yours ;)

[padfootastic]

(The idea that Remus wasn't the only werewolf at Hogwarts but they're just all keeping it a secret and Dumbledore doesn't tell them they're not alone is SUCH a concept! Kind of obsessed actually if Remus gets a shack protected by a murder tree what do the others get? It makes sense that they would want to separate them all when turning as they can't guarantee safety if they're together. Are there like? more shacks somewhere in the forest? A mini village of shacks that have so many protection spells on them not even an earthquake could do any damage to them?)

It being a personal favour to a friend make sooo much sense though. The way that people talk about werewolves in the books really doesn't lend itself to people thinking of kids as werewolves. They're gruesome hardened killers who want to tear the wizarding world apart! 11 year olds just... don't fit into that narrative at all. Dumbledore probably never thought 'oh let me see if I can do something for the other werewolf children' because how many would there even be? two others in the whole country? Those are outliers nothing needs to structurally change just for maybe a handful of kids.

Also re: his parents/Dumbledore telling Remus that going to Hogwarts is an amazing opportunity. Based on Remus' later personality I'd almost say that they(he?) also made it a point to specify that Dumbledore believed Remus specifically to be worthy of this chance. Just insane pressure on this scared eleven year old that he had to keep proving to Dumbledore that he was still worthy of the risk while he was at school. He could have gotten kicked out the moment he wasn't! (Would also be a way to explain why Remus was much more careful than James and Sirius) And later in life he would want to still show Dumbledore that it wasn't a mistake to think him worthy. His inability to keep a job (even if it isn't his fault but prejudice) would make him feel even worse about the whole situation!

THE SNIPPET!!!!! I'm obsessed it sounds fantastic! Sirius needs a good hug and some hot chocolate :( Poor guy :( (you should also get yourself some hot choco!!) Almost being haunted by love he doesn't think he deserves and can never get back :(((

The fact that order members being present would derail Harry and Sirius having a conversation is just so sad but so real.

Also to your tags on the new Sirius and Harry snippet (which was ALSO brilliant!!!). Harry would definitely respond to "acromantulas are predators!?" with some version of "yea. we did noticed that actually." Sarcastic little shit that he is. It's always so fun to see Sirius' response to all the things that happened to Harry (and the trio as a whole) but also how Harry then reacts when he encounters the first adult who puts him and not the result of those situations first.

gosh i KNOW right!!! literally a revolutionary concept, so so layered. sadly, the fic it was in didn’t delve into it too deeply, it only came out because of the aforesaid tragedies but truly, it makes you think no? if we didn’t have the shrieking shack plot, it would’ve honestly been a very plausible theory. (but god does a warded mini village of snacks sound ridiculously cool. even though it opens up avenues for dumbledore to be accused of forming his own light-indoctrinated werewolf pack ;)

oh, absolutely! kids being seen as the outliers to what is essentially a structural issue is so on brand. they’re such OBVIOUS victims that it just makes sense to help out. only in small, incremental, ways though bc they’re still monsters at heart but just enough to bring them into the very fringes of society instead of entirely outside of it ykno?

yesss and even the fact that, iirc remus doesn’t tell dumbles about padfoot in PoA because he’s ashamed? that he broke the headmasters trust in school? like, we consistently see remus just being. one overburdened mf.

oh man sirius is definitely getting hugs but i am running to the doc right now to put a note in for a scene on sirius getting hot chocolate. perhaps he wakes up from a nightmare and harry is already there and he makes his godfather sit down and practically inhale two cups of hot choc bc what is better than chocolate for driving away the terror?