#i am fitting this scene in somewhere in the fic

[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

[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)

[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 ;)

[n7punk]

“Somewhere Beautiful, We Can Finally Meet” Fic Notes

Okay the Somewhere Beautiful notes are short and sweet, but the tone of the fic didn’t really match shoving this stuff in the author’s notes as they came up, so here they are.

Playlist:

I made a playlist. There’s a whole fucking playlist, all thematic or even hauntingly fitting that I built up for months.

But it just ended up being The Sex Was Good Until It Wasn’t album on repeat for most of the fic. That’s what spurred me to finally pick this up and write the damn thing for real. I then used the actual playlist when editing. On that note, though, here’s the chapter title sources:

Sick Joke: Ch1-2, Ch4-8

earth eyes: Ch3, Ch10

Monster: Ch7

January: Ch9

Chapter 1:

⦁ Before I posted this fic I posted a snippet of what the abysmal outline doc for this thing looked like with parts censored. What it actually said was “Adora transitions when she picks up the sword And then also the dream connection thing” which was very funny to me because “the dream connection thing” was the entire point of the fic. But I write it like that because I already had the dream connection down back to front and the trans angle came along later.

⦁ The title of this fic is one of those things that just came to me, and I tried to change it to “Somewhere Beautiful, We Can Finally Dream” to indicate the, you know, dream thing, but I just couldn’t do it. That’s what it was meant to be.

⦁ Adora’s She-ra magic is what makes this possible, but also She-ra was inside her all along, right, so when Adora used to be able to dream of Catra rarely, those were real too (at least, usually. She does still have normal dreams too). The transition in the dream color (white > golden white > golden hour/twilight) represents the strength of her connection, both to her magic and to Catra, though the gold never could have happened while in the Fright Zone — she didn’t know gold or warmth as a positive color then.

⦁ When one of them dramatically vanishes, it’s because they just woke up suddenly. In the case of Adora’s speech, Catra woke up crying.

⦁ God writing this part was difficult. Threading the needle between anger, betrayal, and confusion without being transphobic was really hard even though that was far from what Catra was actually trying to do. Intent doesn’t really matter when the result is trying to shove someone back in the closet. There was initially supposed to be more of Catra exploring what this new Adora looked like but the idea also read as fetishistic to me so I cut it. I think I did the best I could here while being realistic to the actual characters.

⦁ I was worried saying “her best friend” all the time would feel a little awkward, but I also try to explicitly avoid deadnames when writing since I am extremely sensitive about mine personally so it’s just one of those things I don’t want to deal with even fictionally. Like, we all know what Adora’s dead name obviously is, but I’m still not doing it.

Chapter 2:

⦁ Catra not having her mask on and also having so much of her soft fur exposed is why Adora immediately had to pet her upon the dream forming.

⦁ The boob touch was a real impulse thought that Adora acted on without realizing because it was a dream and then immediately got embarrassed about even though “it wasn’t real”.

⦁ I could be wrong but I think every bed we see in the Horde is either on the floor directly or a bunk bed.

Chapter 3:

⦁ I’ve mentioned it before but “pre-ordering” is a phenomenon where people question their sexuality after being attracted to a “cis” person who doesn’t fall into their usual sexuality only for that person to later transition and make it all click. Sometimes we just know lol.

⦁ Yeah there’s a way more explicit version of this scene for sure, and the initial outline even called for it, but I didn’t really want to write it, not just because smut doesn’t interest me much, but also because of the weird dream situation.

Chapter 6:

⦁ The original outline actually had Adora getting Catra alone and flirting with her to unveil the truth and then, when Catra started to realize what was being affirmed, Adora kissing her, but yeah, that was NOT it or where Adora’s head was at when we reached this point, and we don’t need even more dubious consent in this thing. They were also supposed to have more ongoing interactions in the dream world post-reveal, but the timeline of the fic didn’t end up working out.

Chapter 7:

⦁ Every word from the start of this chapter forward I wrote in one day on September 14th. Because I am unwell.

Chapter 8:

⦁ Catra used claws on her palm to wake herself up.

⦁ I’m tired of keeping quiet. This isn’t the “dreams au”. In everything on my computer, it’s saved as the “DreamS AU”, if not its full title, the “dream sex au”.

Chapter 9:

⦁ Glimmer was realizing in the conversation with Catra what was going on back in that weird conversation about dreams with Adora in chapter 2. They were both too tired at that point for her to get mad at Adora for keeping it a secret. She definitely follows up on it after the war like GIRL. HELLO? But they are past the anger at that point.

Chapter 10:

⦁ Catra’s sexuality was a weird question mark to everyone when they were growing up because she sets off gaydar like caesium by a geiger counter, but like… she was also clearly obsessed with Adora. Not that it was clear to Adora, but she felt like a few moments came up where they almost kissed, and that confused her even more. So yes, Adora tried not to think of Catra that way too much because she thought she wouldn’t want her to, but neither of them ever could, really.

⦁ I’m not doing a real “Epilogue” section, so I’m just sticking it here: now they’re together IRL and like, actually talking, they “need” the dreams less and they become less frequent, but they’re still a fun thing and they mess around in them sometimes.

⦁ I was honestly really worried about writing/posting this fic because I thought people might take it the wrong way, either because of the consent stuff, or because of how I portrayed Adora’s transition/Catra’s sexuality. The way I convinced myself to write it was by telling myself I didn’t have to post it, so I could get it out of my head and see how it was at the end. I wrote the first two chapters under that idea all the way back in May and then set it down for Slipstream. I picked it up against at the start of September after I’d gotten through all of the Sapphic Septmeber prompts and just needed some editing for them. I wrote it all pretty quickly and was like yeah, I’m lying to myself, I am going to post it but I am nervous about it. I referred to it as a bomb in my fic drafts. At the same time, I knew that for certain people this would become their favorite fic, so fuck it, I just threw those warnings on it about the ambiguity and posted it.

Original Outline:

As I’ve mentioned on my tumblr in the tag where I scream about this fic, I wrote this entire fic in my head multiple times — always while falling asleep at night — without ever writing anything down, so the outline changed every time but the rough shape remained the same. However, the tone was usually (not always) lighter than how the fic ended up. I wrote half of the fic over two days (Chapter 5-6 one day and 7-10 the other) and afterwards I was looking at what I wrote like… do I need to rewrite this? But no, this doesn’t match the version in my head, but the version there can stay there and this one is what’s on the page. Big changes were just that the initial version didn’t include trans Adora, but the angst of her transition via She-ra and Catra taking it as brainwashing had too much opportunity to it for me to ignore. The other was that there was an alternate idea for the “season four” chapter where basically Catra’s lack of sleep leads her to getting sloppy and getting caught by the Rebellion, and the second She-ra takes over custody of her she just… gives up. Asks if she can sleep now. Adora can immediately tell what’s going on and says yes, and Catra passes out in her arms. Diverging so much, either by having Catra a prisoner or begrudgingly defecting to save her ass (and get help retrieving Entrapta, which was the idea) would have completely fucked the pacing of the fic, though, and especially screwed with my season 5 plans because even engineering a way for her to still get captured, Catra wouldn’t have been so sure Adora wouldn’t have come for her then. They needed to stay 100% enemies with no chance to talk things out lol. I still like the vulnerability of Catra, captured by the enemy, just trusting Adora (even if she feels it’s because she doesn’t have a choice) to keep her safe while she finally lets herself sleep because there’s nothing to outrun anymore, but I NEEDED to do that Prime dream scene.

Upcoming:

I have one or two short one-shots I’m working on that might come dripping out over the next month, but… I really want to do the fucking novel I’ve let languish for two years and it’s November, so even if Nanowrimo (the organization) sucks eggs, I going to try to do something for Novelember. It would even out these last two insane months of fic lol. So, I’m probably going on a little bit of a hiatus, still going to try to post every two weeks probably, but we’ll see where muses take me.

[fandomfluffandfuck]

i have to scream ab this somewhere bc ive just posted the first chapter of a new fic and im SO. EXCITED!!!!!

as well as this, i wanted to know - are you working on anything right now? if so, maybe you don't mind sharing a couple lines of dialogue as a teaser (bc i miss your writing alot especially after you can('t) teach an old dog new tricks)!! think of it as an ask game that i unofficially started lol.

hope ur doing good! xx

I just saw the post you made on your writing account for that, yeah!

I've had a very busy day, so I was hyped to log back onto Tumblr and see that! Hopefully, I can carve out some time to read it soon. It looks so, so good!!

"espresso" by bvckysarm

(Everyone better go read 😤)

Hell yeah, I'm always working on something 😏

Although, admittedly, it's nothing as long or grand as You Can('t) Teach An Old Dog New Tricks. I'm having fun messing around with short (for me) one-shots after spending, what,, five or six months on that series? I love it to death, I do, but, Jesus, yeah, over the length of the average novel, and half a year of writing (more than, behind the scenes, I'd been planning and researching for much, much longer)... I am relishing in noncommittal one-offs, haha.

Here's your teaser 😘

“Aw, you miss me, Stevie?” He needlessly teases, gripping his waist hard enough to bruise him like a soft, overripe peach.

“Uh-” Steve starts to answer him, but he’s cut off by a reverberating moan when Bucky shoves him back and viciously re-spears him on the fake cock he’s got suctioned to the wet, wet tile wall, “-huh.”

Steve stays slumped forward against him, clinging to him, shaking all over still, but now he clings harder; his blunt nails dig into Bucky’s skin and he hisses, enjoying the heat that shudders through his veins from the other man’s touch.

“Missed my cock, that’s what you missed,” Bucky husks into his ear, grabbing his little hips meaner, digging his fingers into his flesh, pushing him back tight onto the toy, making him fucking take it.

He gasps so cutely, so obscenely when his ass thickly presses to the cold tile—taking that toy to the wide, wide base, swallowing it whole—how could he not do it to him? Bucky just wants to fuck. ‘im. up. Vicious.

“M-missed, uunnhh, missed all a’you,” Steve protests weakly, pawing at him uselessly, not as weak and sweet as he thought. Not as weak and limp as he wants to get him—he wants to make him so fucking fuck-dumb.

“Nah, I don’t think you did,” Bucky’s grinning so wide, the muscles in his face already are starting to ache, sharp, “I think I’m just a cock with legs to you,” he tweaks one of Steve’s peaked nipples, just to admire how he shudders, “aren’t I? Isn’t that how it’s always been? Could barely get you off of my cock when you were smaller, Jesus, Mary, and Joseph, I never understood where you put it even though I could see it, bulging through your tummy, so tight and little around me.” Bucky presses his palm there now, dragging his nails down from the swell of his tits to his clenching abs. With the right angle, he can still do it, sometimes, he can spear Steve on his dick and bend him up in a cute little knot and see his dick through his stomach. Bulging. Thick and deep inside him, fucking him until he forgets how to beg for more.

Fucking him until he forgets his own name.

“Still, fuck, I couldn’t ever believe you could fit it in that tiny hole.” Bucky shakes his head, half in disbelief, half in predatory instinct, wanting to bite Steve and tear through him, shaking his head like a fucking dog with a toy, ravenous and slobbering, “then you went and got yourself all big and your need just got bigger, didn’t it, honey?”

“S-so did you, you guh-got bigger, too!” Steve whines, trying to retort but falling flat when he starts to pant, overwhelmed.

“I did,” Bucky purrs, grinding into his hip leisurely, enjoying how hot and feverish he is, God, he really worked himself up into a mess, didn’t he? “And ain’t that good for you, honey? Anything else and you’d’a died, ‘cause you need cock like you need air, don’t you, dollface?”

I hope you're excited for the rest 😈

[takaraphoenix]

Happy Steter Secret Santa Time! I am so excited to get started. I just wanted to reach out and ask a few questions. 1. Is there anything in particular that you want to see? 2. What is your comfort level with angst? 3. How do you feel about the love language of killing each other's enemies? 4. Lastly, explicate content- Do want? Don't want? Don't care? Any do's or don'ts?

Aaah, very excited!! Hello! :)

1. Is there anything in particular that you want to see?

My absolute favorite flavor is Peter taking care of Stiles, especially in instances where it feels like Stiles was failed by others.

I would particularly love something around the s5 fallout with Donovan, when Scott didn't believe Stiles - I have been desperate for something where Stiles then calls the Hales, desperate to be believed, and Peter returns to Beacon Hills (preferably an Alpha again; he can have found someone to kill somewhere along the line. I do prefer my Peter as the Pack Alpha).

But something comforty in another setting would be as delightful! I am very partial to post-Nogitsune or post the season 2 finale, the aftermath of the torture at Gerard's hands, those are absolute favorites of mine.

And I love, love, love my Hale Pack. Peter, Derek, Cora, Boyd, Erica, Isaac, I do prefer when Jackson is a part of it too, staying instead of leaving for London (I am also partial to a Stackson brOTP, especially post-Nogitsune, trauma bonding for the win), and I am also not against Good Friend Scott who is a part of the Hale Pack (but I also don't mind Bad Friend Scott, particularly in the vein of post-Nogitsune or Donovan fallout).

So, yeah, what I would love the most would be generally just Peter taking care of Stiles, most preferred with the Hale Pack.

I'm also a sucker for True Mates fics. Peter knowing Stiles is his, and acting accordingly. Protective, possessive, put him above all else. That's the good shit right there. I can also never resist a Pack Mom Stiles, if that is your jam to work with.

2. What is your comfort level with angst?

HERE'S THE THING. Angst needs a payoff for me!! I LOVE angst, nothing worse than just pure toothrotting fluff with no stakes and no drama, for me personally at least (slice-of-life coffeeshop is the bane of my existence. You can angst in a coffeeshop too!!).

I love mutual pining kind of angst in particular. Insecurities being played up. And I think that Steter in particular is a ship with angst potential, I mean, my boy Stiles fully helped kill Peter. How can you not include at least some level of "oh I am in love with him now. he can't love me back I fucking helped kill him" in there, you know what I mean?

So yeah! As long as the angst leads to a happy ending with requited love, I am all for it. But if it's just... angst for angst's sake and with a sad ending, that's not my jam.

3. How do you feel about the love language of killing each other's enemies?

Personally, I am of the opinion that the first courting gift Peter should give Stiles is the ripped out heart of Gerard Argent.

I'm not a fan of the serial killer trope where they kill for fun, but I do absolutely adore killing to protect and to avenge. Especially with those two.

4. Lastly, explicate content- Do want? Don't want? Don't care? Any do's or don'ts?

I like smut, but I don't need it. The angst and feels of it are more important to me and if a sex scene fits in there, I'm all for it, but it's not necessary.

But if smut, please only top!Peter/bottom!Stiles, I am partial about that.

So I hope that was helpful? Come back for more if it wasn't xD

[modern-inheritance]

How do you come by most of your inspiration, if I may ask? Most of mine just… appears, or I see/hear something that triggers a chain reaction of thoughts and ideas. How does it work for you?

Heya! Thanks for the question!

So, for me, a lot of it is similar to yours. I also have a random little list, so let’s see here, uh…

1. Constantly muttering dialogue to myself. I say this frequently and it is not a joke, about 80% of my time alone I am muttering things the characters are saying to each other and if it fits and sounds right then I chunk it out in a document and build around it. Examples are the Nasuada and Arya conversation in Understanding, nearly every story in the 'For a Future Story' shorts, and quite a few more I can't remember at the moment.

2. I try to write what I know, which means if I find a sensation, typically tactile, that I latch on to then I can probably find a way to work it into a fic. Other times it's things that I've experienced physically. That creepy Durza story, Grip? I was remembering the time I tried to breathe through a precordial catch after I got another one after years of not having any. I felt like I was straight up dying, and I was stupid enough to try and breathe in again and spent a good minute laying there unable to move or breathe at all. Fun stuff! But also delightfully inspiring for torture and yes, before anyone asks, I indeed have had my head examined, and I am fine, if just a little bit...odd.

3. Chatterboxing with my coworker/friends. Some of them do indeed let me stream of consciousness talk about MIC and stuff. Some ideas come from there, though they mostly ignite the random 'omg what wait' posts rather than full blown stories.

4. Rereading the books on occasion helps! Reunion and this current MIC wild phase began there. Also, other media! The Escape series idea was originally started by a scene in the Halo web/miniseries 'Forward Unto Dawn' where Chief punches an ammo storage cage and rips it off its hinges.

5. I'm curious. If I have a question, no matter how strange or out of place or wild or disturbing, I go looking for an answer. Rabbit holes! I learn so much about the body, psych and physical reactions that I can't help but put them somewhere after I learn them. I am always trying to learn new things, and once I've learned of them, if they're something that applies, I go looking for first hand accounts and experiences to learn how other people go through them or feel them, because no one is all the symptoms, no one is all the same, ya know? AskReddit is, funny enough, a wonderful tool when it comes to that.

6. Yes, Arya lives rent free in my head. Sometimes Brom, Glen, Durza, and Islanzadi join her and they have conversations. Eragon and Saphira not so much, Murtagh is mostly absent due to his absence in the war, but they show up still. I've been recently informed this is called Brainrot, but it's only mildly contagious and not always detrimental, so I've held off seeking medical help.

7. Long time ideas. There are ideas and concepts and stories that I have been unable to fully write or get down for well on seven years now I think. Oh god, wait first iteration of MIC was in...2014/15, so...Oh god, I feel olllddd. BUT! These ideas never fully materialized at the time because I just don't have the right feel, the right things to connect them, or just not the right flow at the time. The Escape series was one of these! It took me YEARS to finally get a random spark at work that connected everything together and set off that hell of a ride to 12k+ words. That spark was, hilariously, boiled down to two words: Durza Parade.

8. You!! and people like you!! People who ask me questions about MIC make me think! And that's wonderful for ideas!! You guys make me think about the things I don't typically think about! I learn new things trying to answer! So thank you! For asking questions!

9. Congratulations, you made it to the end of list, so you get my biggest, baddest, TMI'est secret to how I go through bursts of inspo and writing: HORMONES. I have a form of birth control that allows me to choose when that happens and when it stops. If you ever see a lul in MIC and then a sharp spike in me doing the cat gif of scitterscramblezoomies on a bed, then you probably know I'm complaining about taxes on hygiene products but also hanging from the ceiling yelling things about torture and ptsd and recovery and everyone doing stupid slice of life and funny things and cuddling. And/or the hormones are back in the system and it spikes everything that way instead of with Shark Week. *Fingerguns* Which is what is currently going on. Had absolutely no effect going through Shark Week, currently losing my mind going back to regularly scheduled programing.

That's mostly it, I guess. Sorry I went overboard. Sorry for the TMI but honestly if anyone who has stuck with MIC the past year or two looks at the blog activity they could probably track that shit. Which I find fucking hilarious. I write about torture, I'm not shy anymore. Sorry.

Thanks for the ask, and thanks for the interest!! Hopefully you'll stick around for more stories and shorts and wildness to come!