#i wrote this all in one shot 💪💪

[robiinurheart33]

I’m obsessed with ghost being obsessed with soap.

The way he knows tidbits and fun facts about soap is just unparalleled to everyone despite ghost seeming unbothered. They go on missions together more than anyone else in the task force or god forbid, any other military they’re working with. As much as military life would like you to believe, there’s just as much waiting and planning than there is executing.

Soap is notoriously not patient. Ghost is, but only when it comes to work. Anything else he doesn’t have the time nor patience to deal with it. Unless it comes to Johnny. But no one will ever know that except for Ghost himself. But back to the point, they’re mainly on missions together and they stakeout together, they hide in itchy bushes for hours together, they stay in each other’s space, no matter if they want the other to or not. Soap cannot keep his yapper shut for the life of him and he’ll go stir crazy if he has to stay still for 2 whole hours. So he talks. Whispers, really so as to not give their position away. Ghost is a professional after all, he can split his concentration between the mission and Johnny. It’s endurance training. (Or whatever he tells himself anyways.)

Soap doesn’t mind the mindless talking if it helps him concentrate, and if Ghost doesn’t seem to be bothered then it’s all good. He knows that he isn’t actually actively listening, which is okay. He’s not offended, per se, but he feels an uncomfortable tightness in his chest whenever he looks back at Ghost as if it were an actual conversation to be met with nothing. Soap is a professional and damn good at his job at that, so he doesn’t let that bother him. (He doesn’t.)

One hazy night, Soap and Ghost (Ghost and Soap) are staking out a warehouse across the street, a bone-deep exhaustion hangs in the air as they both slump in their seats near the open windows. Cicadas make themselves known and the humidity doesn’t let down even in the night. Soap’s eyes are hazy, blinking ever so slowly and almost slipping shut for good a few times before he jolts himself awake.

“Go to sleep, Sargent.” Sargent. Ghost’s rough but tired voice cuts through his mind as he slides open his eyes again, not knowing they were closed in the first place. He rolls his head over to Ghost, where he’s sitting rigidly upright. To anyone, it would seem like he’s the picture of alertness, eyes trained out the window, posture perfect. But to Johnny, he can see that his fists are clenched too tight, his gun is still strapped to his side, and he hasn’t even taken a shower yet, when Johnny already has.

Guilt pangs softly in his chest, and he purses his lips in thought. Ghost wouldn’t take a shower now seeing that Soap was so tired. He would probably stay up the whole night staring out the window, sweat trickling uncomfortably down his back but still endure it for the opportunity for Soap to rest. He isn’t stupid, he knows there’s something between them that they can’t name, a connection that isn’t quite friends, but crosses the line of professionalism. Whether Ghost knows that or not is still up in the air for grabs. He pushes himself off the chair with a soft groan, sliding his bare feet over the wooden floors to the bathroom. He splashes cooling water on his face and rubs his eyes, blinking harshly. He stares at Soap in the mirror, and Johnny bristles a bit. He looks like pure shit. His eyes are bloodshot and tired, eye bags threatening to pull his eyelids closed, and he hasn’t shaved in quite a few days. Definitely not up to military regulation. He doesn’t bother to clock in the rest of himself now, wanting to focus more on Ghost than himself.

He walks back out to the shared living room, which is also their bedroom and kitchen, and behind Ghost’s chair. He bends down to swiftly unclip his vest off.

“Wha’ are you doing?” He doesn’t even sound annoyed, just tired.

“Gettin’ all this shite offa’ ya.” Soap doesn’t need to look to know that Ghost is probably even more tired than him. His Lieutenant with all the responsibilities under the sky, and no one to share that burden with.

The vest falls with a heavy thump on the ground and Johnny continues to clatter the remaining knives and guns onto the table, right beside their haphazardly placed maps for future ambushes. He pulls a knife from the sole of his boot, and Ghost huffs in amusement.

“Didn’t know you knew about that one, Johnny.” He’s Johnny now.

“I know everything about you.” It scares him a bit how it slips out that easily, but it scares him even more that he doesn’t take it back.

Ghost’s eyes bore into the side of his skull as he throws the rest of the equipment onto the table, keeping a gun in the pocket of his cotton pants. Johnny juts his chin towards the bathroom, arms akimbo.

“Go shower.” he doesn’t bother with a jab now, God knows they’re both off the table for that. It’s come to a point in the night where jokes lay to rest and honestly is the only thing left to say.

Ghost doesn’t look like he’s going to move and Johnny won’t blame him. He knows how hard it is to leave your post, how you scream at your body to move but nothing works. Nothing happens. Johnny’s eyes eventually hone in on Ghost’s eyes, trying to get a grip of what he’s feeling at the moment. Brown. It’s stupid, but Soap’s never been good with all the metaphorical side of describing things. Ghost’s eyes are brown. It’s brown. And it looks soft around the edges, calm and present, moving ever so slightly as he looks back at him. And they look at each other. And Johnny melts. He wants to melt and be safe in Ghost’s eyes and there’s nothing wrong now, there can never be anything wrong. How could it when the stars and the moon crafted them to orbit around each other so perfectly and intimately? And how could anything go wrong when this is the most right Johnny has ever felt in his life?

He feels his hand rise like silk, cupping Ghost’s cheek, like he’s done it so many times before. He hasn’t. Johnny’s not so sure what makes tonight different, or what changed, but he doesn’t want to question it. He’s not jinxing or screwing anything up this time. The cheekbone of the plastic skull digs into the palm of his hand and Ghost’s eyes droop. His thumb drags up and down, up and down right under his eye, not breaking the eye contact he has with Simon. He watches in real time as his eyes dilate and flutter, his head tipping forward, as if he could feel his touch over the plastic and the balaclava. Before Simon’s head could fall forward, eyes finally closing, Johnny grasps his face with both hands, murmuring.

“Hey, big guy. Not yet.” Simon’s eyes open again, looking up at him and Johnny wants to cry at how desperately he wants him to just relax right now, but he knows that if he isn’t completely safe and comfortable he’s be screaming awake 2 hours later.

“Shower.” He whispers. Ghost seems to snap back into reality slightly, standing up straight and towering over Johnny once more. Like this, his eyes seem black in the shadows, and things are jagged and sharp again. He grunts once, stepping out of their safe bubble and sliding into the bathroom, closing and locking the door with a click.

Johnny sighs softly as he sits down on Ghost’s seat, the wood still warm as he looks out the window. The gun burns where it’s pressed against his thigh, but maybe that’s just the absurd heat at the moment. His eyes are trained on the warehouse, leaning his elbows on his knees and letting his mind drift off for a bit. There’s no one in the warehouse at the moment, and any movement would be extremely obvious in the dead of night so he figured it would be okay.

Johnny thought of his family. He thought of the soft yearning he felt whenever he wanted to be small and tucked in his mother’s arms again. he thought of how accepted he felt if one of his older sisters threw an arm around his shoulder. He thought of his home back in Scotland, an empty living room with an aging woman who would spend the rest of her life waiting for children that were not guaranteed to come back. The sadness plagued his mind whenever he was alone, wishing he could come back as soon as possible to his home. To what? Put on the obnoxious military persona and acting as if he were immortal to not worry his family? He knows better than that. He knows he’s soft and pliable, that no matter how many muscles he builds, his body will always cave to a bullet. He knows his family will always worry and he can’t do anything about it.

Ghost steps out of the shower and Soap’s thoughts dissipate, head tilting in his direction. He’s swapped his hard skull mask for a clean balaclava, traditional hoodie and sweatpants. He looks…domestic, in a way. A too big man standing in a too small hallway, hunched over and fatigue evident. Love, Johnny realises, comes in many shapes and forms, but it all takes root in the same place.

Simon lumbers over to stand behind his chair, eyes boring down to meet his. Their positions have swapped now, Simon looking down while Johnny reaches up to meet his. Love is a gentle thing. Soap realises with a calmness that shouldn’t be there that he couldn’t pick between his family and Simon. His family meant the whole world to him, but Simon was his sunlight and his saviour. They floated in a nice limbo between everything, Simon and Johnny. Johnny and Simon. Love is a gentle thing.

“Go to sleep, Johnny. you’re tired.”

“You don’t kno’ that.” He’s slurring.

“I know everything about you.” The line is thrown back into his face, and Johnny’s eyes widen. He can feel the butterflies in his stomach, twisting in an exhilarating way. He swallows and watches Simon stare at his Adam’s apple bob up and down, eyes crinkling. Johnny’s a bit speechless, partly due to overwhelming fondness and partly due to his body screaming for a rest. Simon cares. He cares for Johnny. He thinks about him. He cares. He cares. He cares.

Love is a gentle thing.

“Aye.” John whispers.

All is right in the world, because Simon cares and his mother is at home waiting for him, and he is loved. Johnny is told to sleep, and so he will.

[so-much-for-the-seashells]

The Fun Kind of Sparring

Soldier Boy (The Boys) x Reader

Minors do ¡NOT! interact. This is not for you.

A/N: I haven’t seen the Boys and won’t BUTT that finale, amirite??? So in honor of the glorious return of Jensen Ackles, maybe the finest man who’s ever existed- seriously, when the aliens invade, show them him and they’ll be besotted by his beauty- I wrote this for all y’all SB lovers. Just note that I do not endorse any of this man’s actions, and if you do… the fuck?

I think it goes without saying but this is not my picture, it belongs to EW. (Too tired to make icons 💪)

Anyways, icons by me and all interaction-especially commentary- is appreciated!

Content/Content Warning: straight filth. The mouth on this man is crazy. Diddle that skittle.

****************************************************

It really had just been sparring. A little one on one, if you will. Me and Soldier Boy. Soldier Boy and me.

If it were anyone else, being pinned down to the ground would be the opposite of erotic. It would be annoying, and I’d be flailing around, trying to hit my partner in the balls.

But with Soldier Boy? We’d been skirting around each other since The Boys broke him out. Well, that’s a lie. I’ve been skirting around him, he’s made it more than a little obvious that he’s into me. I don’t know if it’s that he just wants a quick lay or what, but because I’m unfortunately attracted to him, I don’t really care.

Especially right now, when I’m pinned under him on the gym mat.

“Y’know, we shouldn’t do this,” I stall, no meaning behind my words.

“Sure, sweetheart,” he humors me. His lips are mere inches away from mine, his hair falling against my forehead. And I think I’m drunk on the scent of his pungent aftershave.

“I mean, you’re like, what, 103?” I ponder aloud, trying to distract myself from the fact that the Soldier Boy is rested over me in a plank, shirtless. That I can feel his warm breath on my face. That it smells like peppermints.

“104, actually, sweets,” he corrects. He’s had this shot-eating grin plastered on his face since he managed to wrestle me down, because like me, he knows exactly how this is going to end. But unlike me, he’s not remotely hesitant about showing it. And because he’s a jerk, he’s making me make the first move. But I’m not ready quite yet.

“104, right,” I mutter. “Older than my grandpa.”

“Smart girl,” he just goes along with everything I’m saying, letting me stall. The mischievous glint in his emerald colored eyes never ceases.

I nod slowly. “You are a very attractive grandpa,” I state, my tone far away as if I’m talking about him while he isn’t on top of me. Ohhh do I want him on top. You know what I mean.

“Thanks, sugar. But I think I’d prefer ‘Daddy’ if we’re going for the titles,” he says cheekily, still making no moves. I on the other hand am blushing the brightest red. Between the nicknames and Daddy, it’s too much to handle.

“O-oh,” I stutter, swallowing thickly. “Noted. But, uh, aren’t you more into… more mature women?”

“I believe all women are mature. I don’t discriminate, sweets,” he says, his shit-eating grin somehow eating more shit.

“Very feminist of you,” I say sarcastically.

“Damn straight,” he agrees.

I bite my lower lip. “You’re very experienced, right?”

“Not to toot my own horn or anything, but yes, I’d say so,” I can tell that he can tell that I can tell that this is volatile, just moments from going somewhere.

“Okay, so I guess my last question is this: how would you go about it. Y’know? With someone that you hypothetically wouldn’t treat as someone you paid for? That you’re sort of friends with?” I have to know. I’m too nervous for him not to lay it out plain and simple for me, I need to mentally prepare myself.

“Well, firstly, I think I’d have to know my girl likes it,” he gives me a pointed look.

“Your hypothetical girl,” I correct.

“Sure, my hypothetical girl,” he agrees. How has he not broken a single sweat this entire time? He’s been in a plank over me for the last however long it’s been and it doesn’t even affect him??

Quit getting distracted.

“Maybe she likes it rough. She wants to feel it for a few days,” I suggest, feeling my stomach knot at the notion. I’d been consistently growing wetter since he put me under him, and my arousal shows no signs of stopping.

“Okay, so I’d give it to her rough. Work her up until she’s begging for it… maybe I’ll- I mean, I’d- use my mouth first, taste her pretty pussy before I get my dick wet.” It’s all I can do not to moan at the dirty words falling out of his plush lips. Not to mention his honeyed transatlantic 50s accent… I’m so fucked. In so many ways. “Probably get her to come at least once, cause I’m sure she tastes as sweet as she looks.”

“Uh huh,” I mumble, the sound coming out higher than it should as I look at him with wide, attentive eyes.

“Don’t get me wrong, even before then I’d be marking her up and down. So that way everyone can see who made her feel so good, who got her walking so funny,” he backtracks. And again, the notion is far too good to be true. But the promise in his voice? It’s real. “I’d have to get her ready for my cock, stretch her out with my fingers. Start with one, but she’d be so wet that that wouldn’t even do anything. She’d be begging for more if I just did two, so I’ll give her three, make that needy cunt happy,” he muses. And it’s so, so erotic. And I’m ready to just lean up and kiss him, make him do all the things he says. But I’m captivated by his words, his narration- I think I could come from it alone. “I don’t know if I’d let her come again then. Because I think she’d be begging for my dick with how good my fingers feel stuffed in her tight pussy.”

Mother. Fucking. Hell. Oh. Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. He shouldn’t be real. These words should be banned from his vocabulary, because I am on fire right now.

“Where do you think this hypothetical girl would want me to come?” he asks out of curiosity, smirking. Probably at the way I’m looking at him like a bitch in heat.

“In her,” I mumble.

“In her where?” he asks smugly, knowing the answer but wanting to hear it.

“Ben,” I whine in protest.

“Oh, c’mon, tell me,” he chides. “For the sake of the story.”

“In my-her-pussy,” I answer in a breathy whisper.

“Good girl,” he praises, and it’s all I can do not to keen. I have to be soaked through my shorts by now, there’s no way. “Well, what I’d do next… that’s simple. I’d fuck her until she cried, and then I’d keep going. And I’d keep going until the only thing she can remember is my name, until she’s gooey and clingy and a sweet little fucked out thing, all for me,” he finishes, his grin from before returning back to his face. I’m losing it. I can’t think straight. And yet- he’s still waiting for me to make the first move. Son of a bitch.

“O-okay,” I clear my throat, unable to find my senses. “And if that hypothetical girl was me?” We both know it’s me, I just need to hear it.

“Well in that case I think I’d be the luckiest bastard who ever lived,” he says sincerely, looking at me with a gaze that can only be described as pure adoration and lust. Yep. That’s it for me. I lean up and kiss him with as much force as I can muster.

****************************************************

In the meantime… want more Soldier Boy?? Try Taming The Supe <3

[tea-plantz]

ahoy🗣️

can I request an anxiety/reader where reader represents the Love emotion?

like we're a little extroverted and flirty (and kinda serve tbh) but we are gentler around her and help her calm down when she's about to have an attack?

(I'm normal about her I swear💪)

Ahoy to you too! Yess I finally got a request for my girl!! She’s so cute, I swear-

Anyway, that’s an awesome request, I love the concept of the reader being a Love emotion!

~Anxiety x Love emotion reader hcs~

Anxiety wasn’t really interested in romance, partly because she figured she didn’t have a shot at it anyway, and because she thought it seemed way too stressful. That was until a new emotion appeared in the HQ, the Love emotion.

You were so sweet, kind, pretty and even flirtatious, causing the small orange emotion to quickly become smitten.

She would feel her heartbeat speed up x100 whenever you were around.

The poor girl constantly stressed about making a good impression on you, seeming interesting, and wanting to know more about you, but she couldn’t let you know that she’s excited, or else she would seem too intense, and so on.

Since you represented the emotion of love, your job would be to control Riley’s crushes, feelings of love, horniness, and all that. Anxiety would love to watch you work, observing as your hands glided over the console, making it light up with a soft, pink color. She swoons over everything you do

Anxiety sometimes even slightly envied you. Your job was to make Riley feel all these positive and exciting feelings, whilst hers was to worry her and make her anxious. She knew it was all to protect their girl, but she didn’t wanna feel like a burden. On top of that, you were also so extrovert and outgoing, speaking so easily with all of the emotions, even Ennui, which was something she admired and slightly envied as well. She would overthink it, feeling like she wasn’t a good enough conversationalist, and fearing that she came off as boring to you.

The fact that you where so flirty towards all the emotions, but more gentle around her would leave her with sleepless nights filled with overthinking.

“They act so flirtatiously towards everybody, but somehow different towards me! I mean, they’re still flirting, but it still feels different! Does that mean they like me less?! Oh no no no, that would be so bad! But what if they do..? And then they’ll slowly stop talking to me, because they secretly hate me, then they’ll stop looking at me, or even being in the same room as me, and I’ll die alone! Ah!!”

She always thinks so negatively about every single situation, not concerning that it could be because you liked her.

It was only after you helped her calm down when she was about to have an anxiety attack that she realized that maybe her feelings were mutual. The way you had gently hugged her, rubbed soothing circles on her back,y kissed her head and whispered sweet nothings into her ear made her absolutely melt. She knew she needed to confess, or else it would drive her insane!

Anxiety spend many many nights, filling out countless notebooks with her frantic writing, trying to figure out the perfect way to confess. She knew you loved romance, so she wanted to be romantic and sweep you off your feet. One problem though, she was very bad at romance… like… really bad. After the made the perfect plan she practiced again and again before she actually mustered up the courage to confess.

She wrote a whole ass 5 page long script on what to say, and a backup script for when if you rejected her. She didn’t hope that would happen, of course not, but she thought you would, always preparing for the worst case scenarios.

Assuming you said yes to her cheesy little confession, Anxiety would be thrilled! You, the glamorous, lovely, super pretty, sweet and confident emotion that you were, wanted to date little ol’ her!! She almost couldn’t believe it!

She definitely cried

It would take the poor girl a long time to settle into the relationship, but with you showering her with love, affection and kisses, not to mention words of reassurance, everyday, she would quickly feel safe and relaxed in the new relationship.

You two would give off major Jessica and Roger Rabbit vibes.

Even though you might be kind of opposites, you both fit really well together. She appreciates you and all of your affection so much, it always helps with calming her down whenever she can’t sleep, or starts stressing out too much.

Anxiety loves it when you flirt with her, but would quickly become overwhelmed if you where too seductive, leaving her brain completely fried and her hands jittery.

She also loves it when you declare your love to her, but she would become way too anxious or overstimulated if you preformed some kind of grand gesture. Instead, she would much rather prefer if you did smaller stuff, like send her love letters, surprise her with hugs and kisses, cuddle with her or enjoy a cozy stay at home date<3

[alldoll3dup]

Hii! I'm sorry if I don't do this correctly but can you do Velvet x Singer reader who used to be her competition but then Velvet catches feelings or something? If not that's okay! Hope you're having a good day/night

▐ Hello good morning anon, of course I can I would love to!

໑୧﹒★﹒Velvet x famous!Reader - one-shot ᰍ﹒∿

𝐬𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲 - You were a famous singer and Velvet considered you her biggest enemy, until she felt something strange about you

𝐟𝐚𝐧𝐝𝐨𝐦 - Trolls

𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬 - FEM!Reader, jealousy, fluff

★ ONE SHOT ★

- You and Velvet were enemies, that was undeniable, in every program or award show you were together there was an exchange of angry glances, innuendos and discussions behind the scenes

- Your Twitter was an endless war, you always ended up trending because you fought a lot

- Until at one of the awards, when you looked at Velvet with your disdainful look, her heart beat strangely fast, but of course she didn't hesitate to return the look

- You got close to Velvet (maybe even a little too close) she got flustered and didn't know what to do

"Velvet dear, is there any problem?" - you said in your usual sarcastic tone (but you were freaking out inside)

"UGH Of course not" - Velvet said, crossing her arms while maintaining her posture

- You remained silent next to each other, exchanging a few glances

- Until you try to start a conversation with Velvet

"Hey Vel, look at that girl in the yellow dress over there" - you said, discreetly pointing to the girl

"What's wrong with her? Tell me everything dear" - and so you started gossiping practically the entire event

- Now every time you and Velvet were together, you weren't fighting but talking? Your fanbase went crazy

- Now you two had become friends? It could just be a marketing ploy

- Velvet thought that now you being her friend, that strange feeling would go away, but it only got worse

- She would never admit to having feelings for her rival

- This girl is VERY jealous when you talk or comment about another celebrity

- Velvet always finds a way to make you hate that person, be it with gossip, prints, anything she has

- When you're talking to another celebrity and Velvet sees it, she just comes close to you, putting her hand on your shoulder, staring at the person with a deadly look of disgust

"Y/N Come here with me quickly? I have something to tell you" - she says pulling you to another place

"Oh ok! Calm down, calm down, you don't need to drag me"

- You always rizz Velvet on Twitter, she laughed silly and thought you were joking

- But one day you were at an event together maybe you two went too far with the "jokes"

"I can't stand my brother taking his boyfriend to our house anymore, it sucks"

"Maybe if you had a boyfriend you wouldn't be so angry"

"I don't want a boyfriend, but maybe a girlfriend?" - she gave you a suggestive look (you almost choked)

"Well I could be your girlfriend" - you said smiling slightly at Velvet as she tried to identify if you were joking or not

- The two of you were silent looking at each other then Velvet let out a sigh

"I would love you being my girlfriend" - she said, crossing her arms and looking away

- You immediately blushed, Velvet wasted no time and placed her hands on your waist

"Will you be my girlfriend Y/N?”

▐ I wrote this having the biggest fangirl outbursts possible help, I hope you enjoyed

▐ Sorry if there are any grammatical errors love you guys ♡

★ REQUESTS ARE OPEN ★

▐ It might take a while for me to write them all, but I will 💪

[anna-scribbles]

20 Questions for Fic Writers

thanks for the tag @jattendschaton and @miabrown007!! blowing u guys kisses

1. How many works do you have on AO3?

8 💪

2. What's your total AO3 word count?

105,963

3. What fandoms do you write for?

miraculous ladybug<3

4. What are your top 5 fics by kudos?

this question is great bc nearly all of my 8 fics make it in👍

golden (like daylight)

call it even

at our wedding

circles & cycles (right back where you started)

no other shade of blue, but you

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

sometimes!! I try to!!! not as often as i wish i did :( I was pretty consistently replying on call it even for a while but then i fell behind and it got overwhelming😭 there are so many lovely ones I go back and reread all the time though!!

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

no other shade of blue but you maybe? not sure if it counts as angsty it's very short and ends with marinette just being sort of sad and wistful. i'm not built for angsty endings<3

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

probably golden (like daylight)! that's definitely the one i'm proudest of at least.

8. Do you get hate on fics?

no not really!!

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

No👍

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

haha not yet but i've had an anastasia inspired fic in the works for soo long. one day i'll dust it off and finish

11. Have you ever had a fic stolen?

not that I know of!

12. Have you ever had a fic translated?

nope

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

AHAHA YES I co-wrote call it even with my sister @sha-nwa!!! one of the most fun experiences of my life, abby's such an incredible writer and she did marinette so much justice.

14. What's your all-time favourite ship?

lovesquare (shocking)

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

i have tooons of wips in my google docs but i am wary of posting anything on ao3 that’s not a one shot/something i’m sure i’ll finish. one i think might be lost to time is my ladrien greek mythology wip💔

16. What are your writing strengths?

a lot of comments I get are related to prose/description so maybe that? I tend to spend a lot of time trying to pick out the exact right words for each sentence so that it has the sonic/rhythmic quality i'm going for. golden is probably the best example of this; I worked and reworked those sentences for many months until I was satisfied haha. I remember wanting it to feel sort of like the building of a song

17. What are your writing weaknesses?

my writing can be sort of dense and hard to get through sometimes!! I think I have a tendency to try and pack a lot into every sentence, which is fun for me to write, but can be difficult to get through as a reader. it's sort of the polar opposite to how I approach drawing silly comics, where the goal is to deliver the point/joke as clearly and effectively as possible. writing puts me in a much more contemplative headspace, which makes my fic not quite as digestable I think

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

I admit i am guilty of peppering in random french words in ml fic whenever I feel like it 💔 I usually use italics though

19. First fandom you wrote for?

dear evan hansen I think? (<-I was a very specific type of annoying in high school)

20. Favourite fic you've ever written?

have to give it to my og adrien essay golden (like daylight). it has all my favorite stuff. adrinette. what could loosely be called a plot. the word "something." I said what I needed to say

tagging anyone who wants to!!

[whywhaatt]

write some angst. huge sad angst. argument? sure! fucking idk make me cry. any cc, idc, just make me sad.

we got some sad shit baby💪💪💪

"You need to leave." (big t x reader)

words: 1.368

a/n: ok so basically... i just got drunk, then when i was sober i wrote how i was thinking. sorry if its hard to read but have fun :)

warnings: alcohol mention + use, yelling, and a whole lot of cussing

-

Tanner is getting on my god damn nerves. Last night, I spent the night alone in my apartment and dressed for a date that did not happen. Every text and call I send him I get no answer. I can't tell if I'm supposed to be upset, worried, or pissed off but somehow I'm feeling all three.

For context, we've had this date planned for a couple of weeks. It's already been postponed due to my job or random things Nick asks him to do. And after 3 weeks, we finally both had a free day to have a simple and good date.

15 missed calls, 50+ texts, and 10 hours later I just parked my car in front of Tanner's house. I've gotta calm down. It could've been a mistake, a stupid mistake at that but we all mistakes. No what am I thinking, he deserves to get yelled at. So many thoughts are going through my head. At one point I'm pissed off, but on the other I don't know what happened.

I grab my shit, locking my car behind me, and walk up to the front door. Giggling at the "gay" welcome mat, I ring the door bell... no answer. Okay? I'll just ring it again... no answer again. What is going on? Nick's room is right here, at least he should be able to hear it.

I'm calling Nick.

"Hello?" He picks up the phone.

"Hey Nick, I'm outside. Can you let me in?"

"Yeah sure, one sec" He hangs up. A couple of seconds later, the door opens. A simple "thanks" comes out my mouth all muffled as I shove past Nick to walk towards Tanner's room. Isaac sitting on the couch, looks up and let's me know Tanner's still asleep. Great. Just great... I don't want to wake him up in a bad mood.

Whatever. He deserves it. I need to know what happened. I slam open his door to see him laying in bed sound asleep, with alcohol bottles covering his desk and his sweatpants on the floor next to the bed. His room's a mess, well when isn't it really? The only time its considered to be clean is when you clean it.

He must've heard the door open, cus he slowly wakes up and turns over to see me standing in his room.

"Baby, w-what are you doing here?" he asks so innocently.

"What am I doing here?? I should be asking what you're doing here?" I'm basically yelling.

"What do you mean?"

"What do I mean?!? What do I- uh. I can't with you. We had a date planned for last night!"

"Wha- OH!! Baby, baby please come here. Please come here I'm so sorry."

'No- No absolutely not. What did you do last night? Tell me."

"I-I was drinking with Isaac and Yumi. We played that stupid truck sim game and streamed. Then I just drank and watched anime until I passed out I guess." He admits. What. The. Fuck. I must've said that out loud cus Tanner immediately started to apologize again, "I'm so sorry baby, I completely forgot. Please let me make it up to you".

"No, I'm going home. You better find a way to make this better" I say as I walk out his room and closing the door behind me. The guys must've heard it all happen, cus I could feel Isaac and Nick staring at me as I walk out the front door. I didn't say a word, I just kept my head low and kept walking towards my car. Once I got in my car I just needed to scream.

FUCK.

Okay, that's a little bit better.

-

I got home and immediately turned my phone completely off, tossing it on my night stand and not looking back. I just need to do something else, get my mind off of what just happened. I need a drink. I grab some alcohol from the mini fridge I keep next to my desk. It's a vodka kind of day.

5 shots in...

10 shots in...

20 gulps in...

fuuuck. maybe i should've stopped like 20 sips ago. were those even considered sips? they were too big to be sips. my brain is fuzzzzyyy.

i gottta admiT what i said to Tanner was fuckked up, but i don't mean any of it. I should text him. N-NO!! I'm not texting him.

But I miss him, no I dont. fuck im crying now. ok this is happeninggg. I need to lay down. go lay on the bed. okay. im on the bed now.

knock knock knock

what. what the fuck was what.

knock knock knock

there it is again. am i dying? fuck. is that god? it's getting louder

knock knock knock

oh wait. its my frontt dooor. silly me. i'll go open it. come on body get up. one steep at a time.

"Baby. You scared me." oohhhh iits tanner.

"H-H-Heeeeeeeyyyy Taaaannnerrrrr" wait no i'm mad at him. actually, i'm just falling, oh shit.

"Oh my god, let's get you in bed. Come on" heee says while catching me, he's so strongg. i can feel his muscles, oh my god.

im laying down now. in my bed, i don't remember getting here. oh yeah Tanner.

"Y-Youu, youung sir, you neeed to leave" i slur outt, hehe.

"I'm not leaving you like this"

"Buuut. I'm mad at you a-a-and so you need to leave."

"Just go to-"

-

I woke up in pajama's and a massive headache. What the-

"Are you okay?" Oh. I remember now. I shake my head yes and sit up to see Tanner sitting on the foot of my bed. God, I'm regretting a lot of shit now.

"Baby... I'm so sorry. Can we talk about this? I need to apologize a lot." He says, so quiet it's basically a whisper. He looks up at me meeting my eyes. Was he.. crying? His eyes were all puffy and his hair was all messed up.

"Look, I fucked up. I know I did. But, baby, please forgive me for it. This is the first date I've missed in the forever the fuck long we've been dating. You didn't deserve that. You don't deserve that. I tried to think of all the things I could buy you, or do for you, to make up. But truthfully, the best option was being here for you and letting you know I care.

"I know you don't want to hear this right now, but I love you. I love you so fucking much. At the end of the day, I would choose you over anybody. Please, baby, just forgive me so I can forgive myself." Tanner whispers, a few tear leaving his eyes.

"It's sad, the first thought I had is that you were cheating on me. Then I thought you died, or just decided you hated me. I spent all of last night on the couch crying in the outfit I would've worn. I'm sorry I yelled at you, I just let my emotions get the best of me. You just... You really scared me. I thought I lost you." I confess. I can't make eye contact with him. I close my eyes as streams of tears run down my face and onto the pillow I've been holding. I feel the bed shift and I think Tanner got up and walked away, but suddenly I feel a pair of arms wrap around me.

-

For the past 30 minutes Tanner and I have been doing the 3 C's: cuddling, crying, and comforting.

"Relationships are hard" I think aloud.

"Yeah but we make it work." Tanner says, kissing my neck. My head is still pounding from all the alcohol I had, I can imagine Tanner was feeling the same when I yelled at him. To whoever said relationships were supposed to be easy, fuck you. It's hard to put your total 100% trust and love into one person all the time. And on top of that, you get that back. Plus work, or school, and making sure you're still taking care of yourself.

"I'm glad I have you" I confess.

Today was a long ass day.

a/n: this one is shorter, but i honestly cried while writing it. sorry if the drunk part is too hard to read!! requests are open so do whatever you will with that information. love yall, and thank you so much for all the support

[drbtinglecannon]

Why hello there buddy, hope you didn't think you weren't gonna get an ask in return >w> So hey for that fic ask, how about numbers... 1, 11, 29, 39, 50, and 75! And yee same, just however many you feel like answering :D

Haha I actually forgor so this is a lovely surprise! ^^

Hell yeah I will answer all of them! 💪💪 Unless I already did, I think I got a few of these before

1. Do you daydream before you write, or go for it as soon as the idea strikes?

I did answer that here! But basically I daydream a LOT but sometimes that keeps me from finishing the fic because it's like "I already wrote it" in my head, and other times I will just go for it and finish the idea in one sitting but that really only works for one-shots (which is most of what I write anyway). The fic I posted yesterday I just wrote it as the idea came to me

11. Do you write scenes in order, or do you jump around?

I used to force myself to slog through writing everything in order, but it killed so many wip by making me bored of the idea because I wasn't writing the fun bits yet, so now I jump around haha. Which does sometimes create issues when I start bridging the bits together and have to tweak or completely cut stuff, but it overall keeps me writing more and helps my creativity flowing by quickly getting down the parts I want to and building around them

39. What's your most self-indulgent wip?

29. What's something about your writing that you're proud of?

Also answered here! But sure I can give myself another compliment I earned it!

I'm proud of how my writing has improved over the years. Obviously any skill gets better the more you work it (I say as someone who typically gets distressed and will immediately drop something if I'm not instantly perfect at it 👍) but it's been really satisfying seeing my writing get good enough to be in a couple zines and having people enjoy what I've shared :) so thanks everyone who's ever been nice to my writing haha

For something that's almost done, it's a joke about a trope I never thought I'd write that got way too out of hand and sentimental instead of just quick dirty horny lol. Whoops ¯⁠\⁠_⁠(⁠ツ⁠)⁠_⁠/⁠¯

As far as planned out but not close to being done writing wise, it's a long fic for an obscure ot3 that died pre-canon and it's following the development of their relationships before exploding into their individual horrific deaths, and then maybe a sequel that follows a slightly canon divergent yet still canon compliant idea of what sets about the trainwreck leading to their deaths. Including me it'll maybe have 4 fans haha, but that's fine I love the concept and am having fun daydreaming about it. It's extremely self-indulgent to the point it's embarrassing

50. How would you describe your writing style?

1% evil (syntax) 99% hot gas (banter)

Hahah, but yeah I think I really thrive with conversation but I also really really enjoy working sentences until they bleed (aka I gave up) to convey as much info and emotion as I can without being too wordy, because outside of writing stories/fic/poems I'm an rambling mess that says "like" and "fuck" far too much haha! It's my only time to be concise ✌️

75. Is there a particular fic that readers gravitated towards that you didn't expect?

My first ever fic both that I wrote and posted. It blew up a lot more than I ever expected or hoped, and it still gets kudos regularly and comments occasionally, and is still by far my most popular fic haha

Unfortunately that causes me the tiniest 🤏 amount of psychic damage each time because while I'm thrilled people still enjoy it and that it's been read by so many people, it does not hold up to my current writing skills by any means. Oh boy it is rough around the edges haha

[clumsydragon28]

Let's bring back fun ask culture one ask at a time! 😁 ❤️

The last popular ship you drew/wrote/thought about is fighting the last rare pair you drew/wrote/thought about! 😱

Who's winning?!💪

Sensing good vibes frienddddd! 🎇

Hello friend ❤️

So, I have not written anything that isn’t Shikajin or a rare pair in a very long time so…gonna do this a bit differently hehe

Instead of two couples fighting, let’s talk about what would happen is Shikadai and Inojin fought eachother 🤭

To answer that, I will include a little snip from my pirate au 🏴‍☠️

So before Shikadai could utter a single word after crawling his way up onto the ship, Inojin sprinted across the deck, sword drawn, and clashed weapons with his secret lover.

After all, who doesn’t love a little foreplay?

He felt Shikadai push back with his steel fan, an annoyed expression gracing his otherwise beautiful features.

“Inojin! This was not part of the plan.”

Inojin gave away no hint of remorse as he shrugged his shoulders in response.

“Your plan was good, but I couldn’t help noticing a few flaws. So, I felt the need to improvise.”

Inojin jumped back to slash his sword at the other. The ringing of metal hitting metal echoed throughout the air. He heard Chocho in the background command her crew to hold their stations, confident in her first mate’s abilities just as Inojin knew she would be. He then lunged back in to cross arms with Shikadai once more.

“After all, we’re enemies, remember? Don’t you think it’s about time we acted like so?”

At that, Shikadai leaned in more, his breath hot and sticky against Inojin’s face. Being this close in combat, he could make out more clearly the grease paint surrounding those emerald green eyes. He loved how the makeup accentuated their shape. Whereas Inojin’s were large and round, Shikadai’s were more oval and almond shaped. Inojin imagined that if the sirens he’d heard tales of were truly to exist, their beauty could not be half as much as the man standing before him.

Inojin had to consciously bring his thoughts back to the fight lest his body betray his true motives. Unfortunately for him however, Shikadai was much more astute than his crewmates and had noticed the change in Inojin’s demeanor.

The smirk he shot sent a ripple down Inojin’s spine.

“You want to give them a show, huh? Well then. Let’s give ‘em a show.”

To find out who wins the fight, you can read the whole fic here ⚔️

[batri-jopa]

I've recently stumbled upon an old interview with Levan Gelbakhiani and Levan Akin about And Then We Danced (2019) and though I feel like I already must have read every single review and interview of ATWD it still was interesting to look at few things in a slightly different way

Like:

You know WHAT exactly made Levan Akin choose Levan G. for the main role?

Levan Akin: When I saw the Instagram feed, it wasn’t like, I want him. But he could dance and this feels dopey to say but he felt earnest and sweet. And I wanted to find like a sweet character that could be like a regular Georgian boy, who is not threatening in any way, just like a sweet kid, basically. And he looked like a sweet kid on his Instagram.

...and WHY is there a cut in the middle of Honey scene? (I recall some more stupid biased reviewers even claim this fact to be bad movie-making😑)

Levan Akin: Because the whole film is actually edited from the notion that we cut into everything late and we cut out of everything little too early, because we want to keep people wanting more and wanting to see it again and again and again. I don’t think it would be as impactful actually, if it was longer (...)

Umm... Let me rephrase that: he chose to give us the sweetest "product" and then cut the pleasure in the middle just to deliberatily make us want it again and again?! Sir, ain't that a STRAIGHTFORWARD DRUG-DEALER STRATEGY!?! No wonder I got so addicted!!! (not that I'm complaining really)

It warmed my heart that he creates his stories the same way I do🫠

Levan Akin: (...) I had a script, but I only had a beginning, a middle and an end.

Oh and I love to talk about "not spoken dialogs" in the movie - and yes, he mentions about it too!!!😍

Levan Akin: (...) An intimacy scene to me is like any other scene, it’s a scene with dialogue and conflict and things happening, except it’s not spoken. It’s spoken through the actions, the intimate actions. I had other things more like narratively that I wanted to get through with those scenes. The first one I wanted to keep it in one shot, because I wanted to convey this feeling of being them, there. (...)

I was surprised when he said that shot when they're "curled up in a ball together" was not planned😳 (but it still doesn't mean the resemblence to To Mennesker sculpture to be purely accidental, right?)

Levan Akin: That’s my favorite, too. I love that shot. (...) It wasn’t scripted. I wrote in the script that they’re hugging. And that it’s actually not a rock. It’s a something called a kvevri, which is a Georgian winemaking vessel. So it’s a very symbolic thing.

What he says about some people keep on comparing ATWD with Call Me By Your Name?

Levan Akin: It feels like a huge compliment, because it’s a great movie. So we’re just happy. (...) But I think he’s under the lazy to compare all the gay movies with each other. More common with this movie thematically would be Dirty Dancing.

Hell yeah Dirty Dancing, I knew it!💪

And final question, what do you want people to take away from it?

Levan Akin: Everything? I want them to take away the nobody can tell you what it means to be alive. Nobody can dictate to you what you should be, to fit a certain mold of a cultural tradition. This dialogue that’s so rampant right now, about what is a real Swedish person, what are the boxes you need to click and who are these people telling us this and why we need to take that narrative back and own it ourselves and stand up for ourselves and be like, Listen, I can be trans and Swedish and Muslim at the same time, because that’s for you to decide. And I’m not going to let you hijack that. That’s what I want people to take away from this. I’m tired of all of these crazy bigots dictating us.

Oh yeah, I believe this movie could be empowering and relatable to everybody!🫠

[lavender-long-stories]

Let's bring back fun ask culture one ask at a time! 😁 ❤️

The last popular ship you drew/wrote/thought about is fighting the last rare pair you drew/wrote/thought about! 😱

Who's winning?! 💪

(I say ship but if you feel more comfortable to do your last popular character vs last rare character instead that would be cool as well! 😁 Also feel free to ignore this ask completely! Please don't feel any pressure to answer ♥ )

Sending good vibes frienddddd! 🎇

First of all I think that this is very cute and I have been reblogging and encouraging anyone playing ask games because I think we should bring back more ask.

I don't actually really write for any 'popular' ships because all of mine are technically rarepair. The most popular out of those would be SasuHina the least popular rarepair is probably... I want to say HidaHina. (I am going off multi-chapters because one-shots are not good metrics)

Who is winning in a fight?

Well, Hinata and Hinata might be an even fight XD - I am screwing this up with my multi-shipping.

I think between Sasuke and Hidan, I think Sasuke would win. Hidan is reckless. If Shikamaru can rip him up, then Sasuke can.

Thank you for asking, and I will try to do more asks to my mutuals because I think that this is a good thing.

[molassified-minipak]

My friend! Writing anon here and I am deeply, deeply sorry for never having sent anything. Truth is, I never got to finish that one-shot I promised. I kept going at it, i kept thinking about it, I was frustratingly close to the end but still till now there’s a gaping hole in the story. And if I’m being honest with myself, I don’t think I’ll be able to complete it. It’s been months of no news and I’m really sorry about that but still I wanted to thank you, even if it’s unfinished, i had so much fun writing it. My friend had to endure me talking about orange metaphors for weeks because of this. Fuckin love Ravio man, thank you for the inspiration and the chance to do it. But Thought that at least I could share with you the first paragraph i wrote for it when the train was still going and who knows maybe if one day I ever complete it, I’ll share the whole thing!

“

When I was 15, Ravio whispered to him, tucked tightly in the space between his shoulder, the wall and the uncertainty they would be okay, I thought my world was built on a dying giant.

It had laid there forever, collapsed into its deathbed. Arm stretching to the mountains and the other resting at the bottom of the lake.

We built our houses in bleeding wounds and the sharpness of its ribs.

It would blink, the weary thing, peeking at us through the windows of Lorule’s castle. I would feel its sore eyes bore into my back on every walk home.

Did it know where the oceans that once resided our chasms went? Did it cry when it fell? Did it cry at all?

And in every pause of every conversation, we could hear it breathe.

Rasping out agonizing breath through its corrupted lungs, The Earth would sympathetically shake in response. When the giant held its breath, so did we, and when it released it again, we could never really bring ourselves to do the same.

And every night, I would sneak into my backyard. Ear pressed against the dirt, I would listen to its dying heart. It would beat, poor thing. Frantic, like a wounded hare, hopelessly stuck in its trap. I would count every beat and think to myself: Surely this one must be the last, Right?

By the end of our journey it nearly was.

“But then?” The Captain dared to ask.

“

This is minuscule Ik! Sorry for that! But anyway hope you enjoyed it, if you want to chat, I’ll send a message but if not, think my poor heart will survive it/j i am thwarting all criticism by saying English is not my first language 💪 have a good night!

writing anon my dear! this is gorgeous and i'm so happy you sent what you did <3 the prose brings such clear imagery to mind. you've gone above and beyond, ESPECIALLY in a foreign language, and i gratefully accept this as an early birthday present. i hope you keep writing (whether this piece or not) because you have great talent! thank you!

[caixxa]

🤩 , 💖 , 🥳, 😍, and 💪 please :]] love you!

🤩 What's your favorite fic you posted this year?

Summer Kisses!

💖 Was there a comment or another piece of feedback that made you feel all the warm and fuzzies?

I answered twice that all comments because they just matter so much. But I feel like I should mention at least some of the moments of feedback that made me feel a deeper sense of appreciation and gratitude beyond the initial rush of warm fuzzies

Ibarbourou @la-cruz-del-sur reading through money shot and writing long, insightful reviews chapter by chapter. In addition, continuing to do so with Summer Kisses, and always being there to have in-depth conversations about writing, sex, life, fandom, porn, politics, rpf ethics... what's remarkable is that she doesn't even watch hockey, she's a phenomenal Argentine football rpf writer who concentrates on South American football culture(s). Going out of her way to analyze my stuff is a huge token of friendship.

@unmetroeduntappo has read all my new works for years and has so many times been the first to comment. A regular sight in my inbox to ask about fic, this kind of loyal continuous support is more than anyone can deserve. I can't even question her taste in case i wanted to fall down a spiral of self-doubt. Being a Kalle Rovanperä fan is a sign of impeccable taste. (Also, go read J! (jump (caution!) for a warm fuzzy mix of rally and my hockey otp)

You 👉👆👈 giving so much love to my burky/evil!bedsy nastiness on windsor knot and linking it on your phenomenally hot crack your knuckles in my mouth! Thank you for the traffic 🥰

🥳 What writing accomplishment made you most proud?

That @aleksrothis liked ingénue! It's so nice to manage to write a gift that pleases the recipient.

😍 What's one of your favorite lines or exchanges you wrote this year?

I liked the amount of ensemble feels and plot that I wrote as a lead-up to the kinky winner's room dubcon in Ruby Room (dirty floors and sticky tables), mostly as dialogue. This one is with Justin Williams.

Justin Williams looks fondly over the table, watching Sebastian digging into his food like he had been starving for days.

“Gotta say, I miss the playoffs,” Justin says.

Sebastian glances up from his plate and shoots him a feisty eyeful, tilting one corner of his lips to a lopsided smirk.

“Do you mean that you want me to say that I miss you in the playoffs? Well, I do. I miss you in the playoffs.”

“The A on your sweater looked very fine.”

“Are you trying to get me to say that the C on yours always looked even better?”

Justin chuckles.

“Man you’re snarky today, Sebastian. Is something wrong?”

💪What ship gave you the most brainrot this year?

Define brainrot?? If writing a lot of fic for a ship gives you brainrot it would be pekka/juuse BUT they've written themselves pretty neatly and left my head clean without extending their rent-free stay.

Maybe it's the ships that I turn around and around in my head as vibes and disjointed images, ideas and fractions of scenes, watching them from every angle but never trying to pin them down as words? Talk about sepe and his Daddy Dom candidates. Rod. (Aight I've written them a lot but there could have been more). Jordo. Nnhhhgh Brent Burns 🔥 And any +combination of those. I keep hurting myself and yes, rotting my brain. (Want examples? I've got examples just ask)

--

Thank you for the ask and the opportunity to end up degrading everyone's dash when I end up rambling filth. I love you 😘

[kneehighcrocs]

FOR THE FUTURE TRAILER SPOILERS!!!!

idk how big the gap has to be for it to say keep reading or whatever so just scroll rly far yk

im just gonna list everything i see and think

the collector let king keep francois but idk where they are

theres so many things i can say abt that stack of tomes i cant even start

LILITHS HAIR??? OMG <33 it reminds me of cissy but i wonder why she had to cut it that short

poor hooty :(

as hooty is showing king says “watch things pass” does that mean hooty is essentially dead

the collector rly let loose. everywhere is starry and purple now

also i thought the whole head of the titan was decimated? ig not since only rly the top left is gone

they puppetified (for lack of a better word) all the coven heads

but where is terra.

WHERE IS TERRA

i wonder if theres any reason why we cant see dariuss face

was king trying to sneak off with hooty?

SHORT HAIRED EDA

seems like shes been shifting into harpy form way more judging by the amount of feathers

im assuming the collector is who scribbled out the “but should they meddle in our affairs” etc paragraph, but we dont get shown fully what theyve written under

they even puppetified the damn bugs

im assuming they are the one flicking that star but where are they? it shows bump at hexside after but wherever they are doesnt look like hexside. looks more like a house

they got all the teachers even the illusions one

the transformation could be painful judging by the split second we see bump grimace

they all look sad/disturbed apart from hunter who looks angry

hes also stood a lot further away than anyone else idk if that has any significance

marcy wuz here reference? lol

i do wonder who wrote these bc “there is no titan” doesnt seem very collector-y

“bad word” does tho. also smth abt “kissing ___ grass” and “owls r dumb”

hootys weird vein thingies arent in the door

maybe another grimwalker?? but idk how belos would have the materials

could be beloss hand as he tries to go back into his human form but im not sure

i thought it could be in his cave but theres what i think is a curtain off to the side so maybe not

theyre at hexside now judging by the bg

amity saying oh my titan is rly confusing to me bc the first two shots of her face seem serious but the last seems comedically exaggerated? idk

no idea what she could be looking at to be honest. possibly the twins or smth

we dont know what that glyph is but maybe it has smth to do with the potential grimwalker

is that the cave belos was in in ep12?

the collector has changed the whole town

idk who could be attacking but a puppet is running away in the bg so it could be eda or smth not realising who hunter and willow are

matt i dont approve of the beard

barcus, skara and matt seem very calm but i find that weird. all the teachers have been transformed so i thought the school would be basically unavailable, but they seem to have set up camp there

not sure where they could be here. my first thought was the detention pit just judging by the eyes and claws on the wall but remembering the size of it changed my mind a little

why isnt matt fighting whatever luz and amity are?

camila looks terrified but she did only just get there so

MAJOR REVELATION HERE TO WHOEVERS BOTHERING TO READ ALL THIS- they looked through luzs memories. THEY LOOKED THROUGH LUZS MEMORIES

she looks guilty, matt looks confused and maybe sad and we cant see amitys face but guessing off context and body language shes concerned

again, idk who could be attacking here

seems like not all the students managed to avoid getting puppetified. cat and amelia are off to the side

king looks determined, the collector looks angry in a childish way. im not sure what they could be flying towards

ig king is pretending to side with the collector

we see more of the eyeball cave thing from earlier, and theres what i think is a clear entrance, so i rly dk where this is.

but CAMILA IS FIGHTING 💪💪

the owl beast can take over even when eda is in harpy form?

idk what it is abt this scene but the animation of eda losing it seems different. i think its just the lack of shadows since the lightings behind her

im gonna guess this last scene is what happened right after the hexsquad went through the door

bc theres still chunks of the skull floating and king has no robe

this mustve been before they got the idea of transforming everyone bc if eda got that close and is still fine then yk

king looks very worried but seems like he knows theres basically nothing he can do abt it

thats all ive got for now 🤭🤭

[loloisloco]

WOW that was like a rollercoaster but sm better, its wierd that its now over but WELL DONE IM SO PROUD you wrote this beautiful fic and i will treausre it. The start abousley KILLED ME and the end had me smiling and laughing so hard the mix was so well done. It ALMOST healed me from the rest of it. (quotes are in purple)

His bad leg screams at him, the muscles feel tight and raw under his flesh. This line was like FSGHJK SO POETIC and i love the way you desctibe his physical pain its beautiful and paints the best mental image. “why don't you just kill me?”. Now that was just mean.

His arm is coated in a thin layer of dirt unlike the rest of his body, as if the flare itself is dirty. I LOVED THIS DETAIL how the flare is dirty and i thought of it like dirt staining someone, so underneath its still them, but if you look at them, all you can see is the dirt.

Thomas made him believe in a future. THOMAS MADE HIM BELEIVE IN A FUTURE. Thomas gave him hope, that he could live, that he could enjoy his life that it was worth living and they can get out of the maze.

He has one final job to do and that is to save thomas. that broke me, because it felt like, even if he dies saving him it is okay, because he will have completed that last job.

He struggles to ignore the fact that his once white bandages are becoming crimson and sticky. CRIMSON YOUR FAVOURITE i thought of the post and copied this immidiatley.

“We need to go-!” Newt's authoritarian tone... Newt still being a leader after all that shit 💪

Bullets spray down the hallway. AGAIN THE WAY YOU DESRICBE THINGS IT PAINTS SUCH A AMAZING AND ACCURATE PICTURE IN MY MIND ITS CRAZY.

How is Janson allowed to walk while so many boys lay dead in the deadheads? How is Janson allowed to breathe while Albys lungs receive no such sensation and never will again? How is Janson allowed to point a gun towards someone else while Winston willingly turned on to himself? So many deaths and screams haunt his mind, will his mind ever quiet again? Or will he forever be forced to hear their screams whenever he breathes? That was painful. and i have no words.

Any and all tension snaps, Newt in this moment feels no hatred towards her because in this moment they both want the same things, to survive this nightmare along with thomas. That is there goal, in that moment saving Thomas is all that matters, he could hate her (even tho ik we see later he doesnt) but it doesnt matter. Saving thomas is the only thing that does. BUT I LOVED THIS because he wanted to survive it with thomas, he thought of his survival aswell.

Cant find the quote but GOT SHOT FUCK YOU MEAN GOT SHOT

. “I- i dont want to die Teresa.” The words escape his chapped lips and body, fingers and hands touching all his injuries that were well worth it in Newt's mind. He saved Thomas. CHAPPED LIPS ALSO NEWT NO YOU SHOULDNT BE INJURED.

That's Newt's final thought before his vision finally escapes him. HIS FINAL THOUGHT IS ABOUT THOMAS

“That was the longest two days of my life” Thomas whispers back with a twinge of humour, Newt laughs, his gut fluttering at the sound of Thomas's voice and his reciprocated laughter. Longest and shortest 20 minutes of my mind i ate this up but it also felt like eating glass at points. AND THEY ARE LAUGHING WHOOO “I won't hear none of that, ya hear me? It's only a couple stitches tommy.” “Only?!” Thomas is so real rn bc wdym ONLY newt stop downplaying ur pain idc if you have a high pain tolernece Newt? You ok?” Thomas says softly, cupping the side of his face with one hand now, being gentle as to not touch his stitches because of course he does. “You sort of zoned out there” Thomas, who is the loudest, bravest and the biggest “act now think later” person in the whole entire world is somehow changes into the most caring and tender person ever whenever he's around Newt and it always makes Newt crumble into tiny little pieces, he couldn't lie to him right now even if he tried. “Yeah.. i did uhm- get shot.. Don't freak-” DONT FREAK OFC HES GONNA FREAK NEWT U SILLY BILLY. Them being to caring and tender to eachother is everything.

“WHAT??”

You got shot because of me!”

“I didn't get shot because of you, I got shot FOR you!!” He would get shot 1000x if it meant saving Thomas.

That's all I wanted.” NEWT WDYM ALL YOU WANTED WHAT ABOUT YOU LIVING.

Newt’s cheeks slowly began to ache from all the smiling. I was so happy they were happy

Are you sure you're ready to-?” “Tommy, I would rather get shot again then stay here for one more bloody night.” I should not find that funny after all the pain it caused me buuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuut i did

“It's so.. Calm?” HE CANT BELEIVE SOMETHING COULD BE CALM BECAUSE ALL HE KNOWS IS THE OPPOSITE HES ALWAYS FIGHTING FOR HIS AND THOMAS LIFE.

Tonight is for stars and laughter that bubbles in his chest and makes Newt’s face hurt, tonight is for joy. Tonight is for joy indeed, they deserve sm joy.

Eventually Newts screams twist into laughter and shrieks of joy, the world whirling in repeating blurred twists. “Ok ok i'm awake now!” This was one of the best scenes ever and i cant explain how much i was like HAPPYNESS THEM I LOVE I LIKE MORE.

Newt exclaims, whacking Thomas in the shins with the stick. Thomas pretends to wince in agony despite the fact the tap was nothing but light before exclaiming back “how you have wounded me Newton! How dare you strike me-! OW- Poor thomas, Newt got a weapon now. Be scared. Newt feels relief flood his entire body, he did it. They did it. They survived. And now? They get to live. In this moment, the water up to his chest and sand in his hair he realises how grateful he is to be able to live. Not just survive. He is finally able to live and enjoy it.

They have all the time in the world. They do, they are free, they can be happy, they dont have to run, hide or escape. THEY DO

ignore if im interpreted anything wrong lmao, and every word was truly amazing. This was a rollercoaster of emotions and i feel blessed getting to read this fic honestly THANK YOU SO MUCH FOR WRITING THIS MASTERPIECE.

I bet on losing dogs pt4

masterlist

story summary: what if newtmas was canon in the death cure and there was a plot change?

word count: 8.3k

TW LIST: detailed gore, detailed mentions of blood loss, typical canon violence. let me know if i missed any!!

Newt's bones and eyes are still so so heavy but he has woken up, the muscles in his eyes twitch to open but his brain screams at him before he moves. DON'T OPEN YOUR EYES his survival instincts holler at him, he can't trust anyone anymore except his own heavy body. Where are you? Newt feels that the room is cold, his arms and legs are strapped down by what feels to be.. Warm leather. The leather is warm, he's been there a long time. He hears bombs raging on in the distance, it's muffled. Are you hurt? Newt can still feel his right palm stick against the bandages Minho had applied along with deep discomfort, his hand feels exposed despite being covered. His face still sears with agony from the scratches and his wrists whine in overuse. His bad leg screams at him, the muscles feel tight and raw under his flesh but despite that he has no new injuries except he feels a prick in his lower arm. 

He feels blood being drained from his arm, his senses heightened already to pick up the sound of quiet breathing, along with heavy footsteps not too far away pacing rhymically. Keep your breathing steady he continued to breath at the pace he was earlier, his chest rising and falling in time with the steps. Who's in the room? The person who is drawing his blood is steady, clearly trained because the pain in his arm is very miniscule. Ava Paige is dead and the halls of the tower were empty, wait. Teresa had called for him to come back so she must have been waiting, Teresa is drawing his blood. The heavy footsteps boom louder with every step, presumably Janson. “What's taking so long?!” the ratman snaps. “He's dehydrated, the blood is barely coming out.” Teresa replies, her voice wobbling slightly. As if her words summoned it, his throat scratches at every breath he takes in as his head pounds desperate for water. 

After a minute or two, Teresa finishes extracting his blood and removes the needle from his arm. Newt knows where he is, who he's with and what state he's in. He's not going to learn anything else with his eyes closed. open your eyes Newt listens and slowly opens his not so heavy eyelids and says, his voice scratching “why don't you just kill me?” his eyes drawn to the gray haired man. Janson turns and speaks in a low voice “no we don't want to do that Newt” he walks ever so slowly, almost taunting him. “We're going to take special care of you. We’ll keep you alive, just. And in return, you give life to the rest of us..” The crank turns on his heels at a snail pace, reaching out for something and making all of two steps back to newt. Holding a cylinder tube with a cap he ever so slowly removes and places to the side, the tip of the needle mocking him. The small see-through part of the mostly black cylinder glows a light blue. Desperation and rage bubble in his blood at the sight, the syringe Newt desperately needs, the serum he would give his own life for just out of reach. 

The serum. Thomas’s serum. 

“The ones we chose to save anyway.” The putrid crank carefully pulls up his sleeve, extending his arm out as he does so making sure Newt sees his arm. His arm is covered in black veins, almost like a web that's been woven together without care or direction spreading anywhere and everywhere. His arm is coated in a thin layer of dirt unlike the rest of his body, as if the flare itself is dirty. Newt's eyes are drawn away from the spider's web before him, up to the needle tip that Janson is waving right in front of his eyes. He smirks maniacally, his eyes wide and dangerous. He creeps the needle tip towards his arm.

…

“DONT YOU FUCKING DARE JANSON” the rage in his gut spreading to his throat, his arms, his legs, his bones and muscles. he wildly pulls against his restraints as if will stop the cruel crank, Janson taunts him by dragging out the process for as long as possible. Inching closer and closer and every centimetre he gets he somehow gets even slower, all the while Newt is screaming profanities at the top of his lungs. His throat burns as he screams. Somehow, Janson knows Thomas is infected and he's determined to remind Newt of this fact. How dare he taunt him?! Years and years of suffering, watching gladers die gruesome deaths and hearing their god awful screams knowing there was absolutely nothing he could do to save them. He can't let Thomas die, not now! He's the reason they got out of that maze, he saved his best friends' lives and gave him freedom, hope. For ONCE in his life he felt something other than complete hopelessness the day Thomas killed that griever. Newt finally had something to run for, to push for. Thomas made him believe in a future. He fought almost every battle he could, escaping the maze, fleeing from wicked, making it to the right arm, finding minho. He has one final job to do and that is to save thomas. the one thing he has left to fight for is JUST out of his reach, if he could just MOVE HIS GODDAMN HANDS-

SMASH

Janson falls to the floor in a spray of glass, his head thumping against the hospital floor. Teresa stood behind him breathing heavily, she quickly snatches the syringe off the floor before removing Newts restraints. Relief floods through Newt's body and he fights to shake from the nonstop adrenaline that he believes may never stop coursing through him after this night. Teresa mumbles something that doesn't reach Newt's ears while she struggles with a buckle, Newt desperately trying to assist her wriggles his way up and away from the leather. Teresa removes the restraint before the crank whose head is dripping with blood grabs Teresa by the hair and throws her across the room with an inhumane amount of strength, Teresa slides across a table of medical equipment before falling onto the cold ground. “TERESA” Newt screeches before using his bandaged hand to try undo the rest of his body, he fights a whine at the back of his throat at the pain that boils under his palm as he does. He struggles to ignore the fact that his once white bandages are becoming crimson and sticky.   

Newt blocks out the screaming and fighting not even a metre away, only focusing on the buckles. Eventually he frees himself and he hears a loud THUNK and a lack of high pitched screams, Teresa's limp body crumples to the floor, her eyes shut tightly. A machete shines under the fluorescent hospital light, his machete. Jansons' eyes notice quicker and he's already snatched it, his teeth bared wildly. Newts runs and pounces at Janson, both bodies flying out the door of the hospital room and into an equally bright hallway. Newt and Janson tumble around on the ground, punches thrown and kicks landing into stomachs and faces. Janson barely uses the blade, only slicing Newt hesitantly across his shoulder blade and arm, clearly having no clue how to wield the blade. Fucking pathetic. If the machete were in Newt's hand however? Janson would've been dead already. If it weren't for Jansons flare enhanced strength Newt would have overpowered his pen pusher body by now, machete or not.

Janson manages to deliver a heavy blow to the side of Newt's head, the world spins and darkens for a moment. He stumbles to the ground, trying to reel his consciousness back to him. The crank straddles him with the machete to his neck, pressing down slightly blood drips from Newt's neck. The cut is nowhere near deep, in fact Newt barely feels the small cut. “He was never supposed to be in the maze!” Janson spat, Newt has a firm grip on Jansons wrist keeping the machete from getting any deeper than a paper cut. “But he just had to go after you and all your little friends didn't he? So brave so.. Caring” the end of his sentence reeks of sarcastic sweetness, Newts grip gets impossibly tighter as he attempts to push Janson away to no avail. “The one thing Ava did right was making you The Glue, so desperate. Putting his life above your own? Their lives above your own?” Newt tries to kick up with his feet and push Jansons body off with his core, he squirms around desperately trying to get out from underneath the vile crank. 

BANG 

Janson drops the machete, his arm goes limp for a moment. Newt seizes the opportunity and pushes Janson off him and snatches the machete off the floor and scrambles up to his feet, blood pumping in his ears. He looks up to find Teresa holding a small pistol, eyes wide looking down at Janson. More specifically his shoulder which is now seeping with blood. Her body is stiff and unwavering, her hair tangled around the back from Jansons cruel fingers. Her breaths are quick and shallow, her bottom lip quivering. 

“We need to go-!” Newt's authoritarian tone is cut short by bombs that make the floor shake and cause both him and Teresa to fall to the ground, Janson who was on his hands and knees attempting to stand falls flat on his stomach. Smoke and ash fill his lungs and burn his eyes, the light above flickering on and off, wires spark with electricity bouncing off the ceiling and walls. The pistol that Teresa held moments ago flies from her hands as she falls, landing right next to Jansons body ready for the taking when he eventually stands his ground. 

Newt somehow gains his footing despite being in a much weaker state than Teresa, grabbing the back of her white coat insisting they need to move. Without hesitation she too scrambles to her feet as they run down the hallway, his body mimicking a rusty doll in need of oil as he moves, every step becoming more and more agonising. Bullets spray down the hallway just before they duck into the next, his bum leg getting weaker by the second. “In here!!” Teresa shrieks, pulling Newt through two glass double doors that move apart on their own. They stumble into a large what seems to be a testing room..? The right wall lined with thick glass and well past the gone crank inside, banging on the glass in ripped up dirty hospital gowns. The back wall and centre of the room filled with small tables with medical equipment and the largest object in the room being a large cylinder machine Newt couldn't even fathom the name of. Newts bum leg drips.. Drips? 

Newt looks down to find a gunshot wound embedded into his right thigh. 

His breath hitches at the sight, he collapses to the floor almost hitting his head against a metal cabinet before Teresa grabs him and lowers him to the ground. Teresa brows furrowed in concentration immediately, she scrambles through cabinets and seconds later she finds what she's looking for. A long white cloth and small scalpel. SCALPEL?? Newt's eyes widen in shock and he considers scrambling away from her even though she's a trained doctor. “I'm not cutting you, I need something for the tourniquet.” right. Newt remembers Jorge showing him how to tie one of those a few times, you need something to put in it to act as a “torsion device” Newt's body settles significantly and she allows Teresa to cut off his pant leg and wrap the cloth around his now scarlet soaked leg. Her fingers and arms work quickly, she's mumbling steps to herself throughout the quick and painful process. Newt hisses in pain as she tightens the cloth, “sorry, if it hurts-” “that means it's working, i know-” - he hisses and scrunches his eyes closed - “Jorge told me.” 

Teresa finishes the tourniquet and takes the now cut off pant leg and starts to instruct Newt to press down on the wound, as if he hasn't done that already tonight before the sound of the glass doors opening once more interrupts her. Heavy footsteps walk ever so slowly into the room, Janson calls out for teresa. Teresa quickly leaves Newt's side and scrambles behind the desk, Janson goes on a long winding speech about the girl and her betrayals. Newts mind drifts away from the sounds of teresa shifting around the room and jansons taunting, he barely notices when his own body shifts to get away from the cranks watchful eye. Newt is only thinking about two things, how dry Thomas's blood is on Newt's hands. it coats his palms and fingers, the way it trapped itself underneath his dirty nails. How much time does Thomas have left? Does he have any time left at all? Or has his heart come to a steady stop along with Newt's ability to think about anything other than survival? 

The second thing being how Jansons undeserving body receives blood from his icy heart every second that passes, every heavy footstep being assisted by his flare infested brain that is undeserving of the ash tainted air. How is Janson allowed to walk while so many boys lay dead in the deadheads? How is Janson allowed to breathe while Albys lungs receive no such sensation and never will again? How is Janson allowed to point a gun towards someone else while Winston willingly turned on to himself? So many deaths and screams haunt his mind, will his mind ever quiet again? Or will he forever be forced to hear their screams whenever he breathes? 

Oh.. the world is escaping him now, everything is focusing and unfocusing as if he was taking glasses on and off again. What is that sound? White noise buzzes almost inside his head, his brain shaking for blood. “Don't you have enough blood on your hands already?!” Janson calls out, oh his talking to him. Who else would he be talking to? Newt realises that his hands are shaking violently, how long have they been doing that for? “Your little friend Thomas might not have been able to shoot her.. But I can!” Newt senses are impossibly heightened so much so he can hear the gun rattle in Jansons palms, 

Newt looks towards Janson, black veins pulsing up his neck.. His neck. Newt looks down at his machete which is covered in now half dried blood, his own blood. The machete shimmers under the flickering lights calling to him, the handle almost slips itself into Newt's hand as he wobbles to stand. “JANSON!!” he screams, tumbling towards the crank. Janson turns to point the gun towards the blonde but is much too slow because by the time his pupils almost disappear in shock at Newt's raised arm it's too late for him. Newts arm and shoulder muscles tighten as he slashes his machete across Jansons throat, the blade swipes effortlessly into his flesh, unlike Janson Newts slash is not hesitant or unpracticed. The gun that once shook in the cranks palms drops to the floor as he claws at his throat, blood dripping from his mouth as he falls to the floor choking on crimson. 

Once Janson drops to the floor all the strength newt gathered deep within his bones all slips away from him, Teresa grabs his arm and helps him hobble out of the room with her. Any and all tension snaps, Newt in this moment feels no hatred towards her because in this moment they both want the same things, to survive this nightmare along with thomas. Wires all around them blow and light up with electricity, the halls reek of ash and gunpowder as they stumble towards a stairwell. Teresa’s voice orders him to move in certain directions and he does what he's told with no argument, they enter a stairwell, the stairs leading down boom in fire. Teresa leads them up the stairs, Newt desperately trying to take some of his weight off her shoulders. 

They climb and climb until Teresa uses her free hand to open a door taking them onto the roof, everything around them burns violently, the sheer brightness burns into newts eyes. Teresa turns back around to go back into the stair well before that too, explodes in bright fire. Newt can almost see the hopelessness radiating off of her, her mind finally coming to a stop and realising it over, their done. Dead. They had failed. 

Newt's body finally gives out, crashing to the ground along with Teresa who tries to break his fall. Teresa's chest rises and falls as she gasps for air desperately, the sky starts to slowly swirl together. Teresa reaches into her pocket and hands Newt the syringe he came back for. “I knew you would come back.” she said, her tone impossibly soft as if the world was not on fire. “I knew you would help me.” Newt responds in the same manner, in this moment, in this fire, Newt cannot hate the girl that holds her. He will never forgive her but he cannot hate her. “I- i dont want to die Teresa.” The words escape his chapped lips and his fogged brain before he has the chance to bite his tongue, he struggles to speak with the ash in his lungs. He knew the likelihood of his return ending in his death, but now that he is faced with it burning all around him he's never felt such despair in his life. Even in death he couldn't keep his promise. “Me neither.” her voice tremors now, another understanding. Her tone is ridden with guilt, not the same guilt Newt carries in his chest but guilt all the same. 

White noise blares in his ears, the noise gets closer and closer.. Teresa turns to look in front of them, Newt turns also to see that the noise is the berg. The berg!! “C’MON!!” Teresa commands, lifting Newt to his feet, practically dragging him to the edge of the building. Newt holds the syringe impossibly tight in his hands, his eyes fighting to stay open as he searches for Thomas in the berg. His bones heavy and tired attempt to put up one final fight, his body searches for one final push of adrenaline to get him and Teresa onto the berg. The berg is so close yet so far, Newt's hand grazes Vince's before falling once more. “YOU HAVE TO GET CLOSER” Teresa shouts, gally shouts something along those lines to the pilot who Newt can only assume to be Jorge. The berg swings back and forth, building around them crumbling down. Teresa holds onto Newt and pushes him to the berg with one big push, Newt feels hands grip his upper arms pulling him onto the ship. 

Newt looks around the ship, his eyes landing on Thomas only a few steps away. Steps his legs cannot take him. Everyone around him is shouting out to Teresa, part of Newt wants to help her but he has a promise to keep. So he crawls, his bad leg weighs him down as his arms fight to pull his body along. His tourniquet slowly becomes looser as he crawls across the floor, leaving a trail of blood as he moves. He's not far now, PUSH GODDAMNIT his brain screams. Newt considers injecting it into Thomas’s palm just to get the serum in him faster but decides against it, refusing to risk the one and only vial they have. His arms shake as he pulls himself one final time before injecting the serum into Thomas's upper arm with a firm click. He did it. It's over. He kept his promise. Minho and Thomas are alive. 

His vision swirls once the blue liquid finally empties out of the syringe in what has got to be the longest 5 seconds of his life, his body goes limp as he lets his arm fall. His brain slowly flips into unconsciousness as the berg rumbles with an upward descent, he faintly heard feet rushing towards him and barely feels minho flip him onto his back. “STAY WI-” the rest of Minho’s words are unheard as white noise becomes the only sound in the world, faces and arms crowd his vision and body, fingers and hands touching all his injuries that were well worth it in Newt's mind. Newt turns his head to see Thomas’s face that is now soft and calm in a peaceful sleep as his chest rises and falls, the black veins slowly becoming less visible. He’d truly done it. He saved Thomas.

That's Newt's final thought before his vision finally escapes him. 

-

It's been almost 2 days since Newt woke up in the safe haven, and for the past 2 days he has had doctors speak to him, getting his vitals taken, being forced to eat and drink, being banned from walking without a cane as if he's an old man, has had his bandages changed and he's not seen a single person he knows. Doctors have asked him his pain level, how he's feeling, how he’s coping, and he has barely said a word to them. Newt could speak, if he wanted to. Doctors speak about him as if he's not there, they say he's in shock. The past 2 days have not felt like days, everything blurs together in one big jumble of memories. Everything seems so distant, even the present moment he's in now, which is another one of these doctors attempting conversation. 

“You have been in the safe haven for 2 days, did you know that?” the doctor says. Yes I did, I have heard this countless times. Newt shrugs and refuses to look at said doctor, he just wants to see someone, anyone he knows. “Is Tommy ok?” he asks for about the billionth time, one of his few repeated phrases. “When can I see him? Or anyone?” the doctor sighs, as if Newt is forcing him to be there before he says “speaking of that.. One of my colleagues informed your friends about your condition so they should-” 

The doctor is interrupted by Minho, Brenda, Frypan and Gally all crashing into the room at once. “NEWT!!” Minho practically screams, running over and pulling him into the world's tightest hug. The doctor stands and leaves the room smiling happily to himself. Newt's body floods with happiness for the first time in 48 hours as he hugs him back weakly, his face buried into his neck. He feels Brenda hugging him from behind, her chin resting on his shoulder. “Hurry up! I wanna get in there!” Frypan ushers Minho away after a minute or two before clapping both his hands on both of Newt's shoulders “how you doing?” he asks warmly “much better now!” Newt exclaims, his lips curve into a wide smile. He feels giddy, giddy like a kid on Christmas finally getting the toy they begged for. “Hey dude.” gally says, his arms crossed with a slight smile. “Hey man!” he says, refusing the impossible urge to squeal in pure excitement, for once in 2 long days he finally feels present in a moment, the past 48 hours a mere sad blur that no longer exists in his mind. 

Then he realises, someone is missing. “Minho,” - Newt turns to face him and takes a deep breath - “is Tommy ok?” Minho’s smile turns into a cheeky grin before saying “about that..” he steps towards the door, pulling it open and reaches his arm to the side, tugging on something. “TADA!!” Minho pulls Thomas in the room by his shirt, Thomas’s eyes widen in shock at Newts state, Newts eyes widen as his eyes drift to Thomas's stomach. No knife, no blood. He's really ok. Newt feels Brenda's arms slip away from him and he hears her ushering everyone except Thomas out of the room. Newt and Thomas both pause for a moment, Their eyes locking in pure disbelief before Thomas practically sprints over and pulls Newt into the softest hug possible. Newt's body relaxes significantly, his forehead resting on Thomas's shoulder while one of his hands cups Thomas's face. “It worked, it actually worked” he whispers, his eyes filled with tears that threaten to spill. “That was the longest two days of my life” Thomas whispers back with a twinge of humour, Newt laughs, his gut fluttering at the sound of Thomas's voice and his reciprocated laughter. 

Thomas pulls back slightly, his eyes almost droopy as he smiles looking into Newt's eyes. His gaze drifts to Newt's cheeks and his eyes widen significantly, his smile dropping. Thomas goes to speak, his brows furrowed before Newt promptly interrupts him. “I won't hear none of that, ya hear me? It's only a couple stitches tommy.” “Only?!” Newt scooches over allowing Thomas to sit down, after taking his shoes off. He sits with his legs crossed on the surprisingly large hospital cot. “That's nothing! i’ve got a high pain tolerance, barely felt a thing. Don't you worry your pretty head about it.” Newt teases, tapping Thomas's temple Thomas keeps his hands in his lap, fidgeting with his fingers. 

“Well go on then.” Newt folds after a few seconds, allowing Thomas to cradle his face and examine his wounds. His Adam's apple bobs as he swallows down what Newt can only assume to be the apologies swirling in his brain. “What did I just say?” Newt scolds.

“Is there anymore? I heard you got.. Shot.” Thomas ignores Newt's playful scolding, his doe eyes full of worry. Newt doesn't know how to answer, he doesn't want to lie to Thomas but he knows that if he tells the truth.. oh yeah and I also got a few stitches on my arm, shoulder and hand too! My gunshot wound nearly killed me by the way! Thomas would never forgive himself. He's always so goddamn forgiving but the moment something happens that's not even his fault that he's remotely tied to he makes it his mission to flip the situation and pin the blame on himself, he won't understand that the wounds were well worth it, he won't understand that Newt would have rather died than not at least try to save him- 

“Newt? You ok?” Thomas says softly, cupping the side of his face with one hand now, being gentle as to not touch his stitches because of course he does. “You sort of zoned out there” Thomas, who is the loudest, bravest and the biggest “act now think later” person in the whole entire world is somehow changes into the most caring and tender person ever whenever he's around Newt and it always makes Newt crumble into tiny little pieces, he couldn't lie to him right now even if he tried. “Yeah.. i did uhm- get shot.. Don't freak-” 

“WHAT??”

“I knew you would do that!!” 

“do what?!” 

“act like the biggest shuckfaced idiot that's ever stepped foot on the bloody planet that's what!!” 

“You got shot because of me!”

“I didn't get shot because of you, I got shot FOR you!!” 

“...”

“Love. When you..” - Newt takes a deep breath before continuing - “passed out, i don't know if you heard but i.. ran back to the tower-” 

“YOU WHAT??”

“Don't interrupt!” 

“...”

“You were dying Tommy. I had to go back! You don't know what you looked like.. What I saw. Long story short me and Janson got in a fight and I got a couple cuts” - Newt pulls his collar down to expose his bandages, afterwards pulling up his sleeve to show the bandaged cut on his upper arm. Thomas’s eyes got wider and glasser the more he spoke - “and yes I got shot. But it was worth it tommy! You lived.. That's all I wanted.” - Newt takes Thomas's hand in his, rubbing the back of his knuckles. - “Ok?” Newt's throat tightens at his last word, making his word wobble despite his tone being steady recounting the tale.

Thomas pauses for a moment, he opens his mouth as if he wants to protest but quickly closes it. He presses his lips into a thin line while squeezing Newt’s hand. “Thank you, for saving me.” He mumbles, barely audible. If Newt wasn't so close and the room wasn't so quiet he wouldn't have been able to hear the low whisper. Newt doesn't think saying your welcome is exactly appropriate so instead, he squeezes Thomas's hand for a moment before smiling warmly his way. Plump lips smile back at Newt, Thomas’s head tilting to the side ever so slightly as he smiles in a way that makes Newt's face glow with warmth. Newt doesn't realise he's staring at Thomas's lips until Thomas reciprocates the action, they both pause for a moment before Thomas leans in and gently kisses him.

He tastes like toothpaste and saltwater. Newt keeps his hand in Thomas’s, Thomas’s hands have always been so soft, so warm. Newt places his other hand on Thomas's shoulder, Newt's gut swirls when Thomas's hums against his lips, the vibration sending shivers down his spine. Newt's hand makes its way from his shoulder to the back of Thomas's head, pushing Thomas closer in an attempt to deepen the kiss before the brunette pulls away. “What was that for?!” Newt asked, displeased, with no real anger behind his words. “First of all, we're in a hospital room.” - Thomas kisses the corner of Newt's mouth before continuing in a whisper - “Second of all, you're recovering. So maybe not now, mkay?” “you Thomas are a bloody tease” 

“uh oh ‘Thomas’ should i be worried?” Thomas replied sarcastically, only a few inches from Newt's face. “Yeah, maybe you should be” Newt spoke in the same manner, attempting to kiss Thomas again before Thomas lightly pushed him back before exclaiming 

“what did i just say!” 

“finee.” Newt pouted in pretend annoyance before they both broke out into a fit of laughter, Newt’s cheeks slowly began to ache from all the smiling. 

-

Its officially been a week since Newt arrived in the safe haven and today is finally the day he is getting discharged from the makeshift hospital they have set up, over the past 5 days Thomas, Minho, Brenda, Frypan and Gally all came by to visit often, Thomas and Minho the most by far. Thomas visited at least once a day, sometimes multiple if he wasn't busy. Constantly asking how he was doing, telling Newt about about the safe haven and how Frypans “still got it”, Thomas tells Newt about the fields and spots he wants to take him, about the hut he's been assigned and how nice it is to sleep in a bed instead of sleeping bags, Newt listens intently as he talks about his slow lazy days since Thomas is still recovering from his knife wound. But those days are finally over because Thomas is on his way to help Newt hobble out of the hospital doors insisting he wants to help, despite the fact Newt has a cane. Newt is beyond ecstatic to get out of the dingy hospital room and move in with Thomas, they both agreed on that since they haven't slept apart for almost 6 months anyway so why change now? 

Newt sat impatiently on top of his hospital bed, cane in his lap as he fiddled with the corner of the blanket waiting for Thomas to get there. His heart beat thumping in his ears like a clock, ticking by as the seconds pass. He can't help but wonder if walking is going to be harder now, he's barely stood up for more then a minute or two so how is he going to do walking longer distances? … the sand is a whole different ball game. Newt would rather walk in the sand than stay in the hospital another night though. 

As if on cue the door swings open and Thomas stands there grinning from ear to ear boyishly. Thomas walks over and extends his hand out, bowing as if Newt is a king or something. Newt rolls his eyes while Thomas laughs, but accepts Thomas's hand gratefully despite the sarcasm. Newt slowly stands to his feet unable to suppress the hiss that escapes his lips, his eyes scrunching as pain shoots through his whole leg. His fingers that are now interlocked with Thomas's squeeze significantly tighter, leaning slightly against Thomas's arm to keep him upright. 

“Are you sure you're ready to-?” “Tommy, I would rather get shot again then stay here for one more bloody night.” Thomas’s eyes flick upwards immediately to make eye contact with Newt, his eyes widening in shock. “I'm joking! but please for the love of god get me out of here.” His eyes soften once more when Newt responds, they both slowly but surely begin to walk towards the doors of the makeshift hospital. Every step Newt limps and occasionally having to fight back a wince, he can't help but be reminded of when he first broke his leg and Minho and Alby had to help him walk around similarly to how Thomas is now. Eventually they make it to the rickety door made out of wood and sticks, Thomas uses his free hand to open the door and Newt gasps at the sight.

Newt has yet to see the safe haven until now, he heard waves occasionally but he didn't expect the water to be so bright, the way the sun bounces off the crystal blue water almost makes it look like a large gem. In the distance there is a large cliff covered in grass and flowers, in fact the whole safe haven besides the beach is covered in bright, healthy green grass. The sun doesn't burn Newt's shoulders or arms either, it's warm and calming. There's a large unlit bonfire in the distance along with a large stone which appears to have carvings on it, surrounding the bonfire there is small wooden structures with beams and steps for people to sit at and hammocks are set up underneath roofs, a large communal kitchen which Frypan is stationed at as well. There's people of all ages sitting, walking, running, laughing, talking or just sitting in silence enjoying the peace. Newt lets out a breath he didn't realise he was holding when Thomas squeezes his hand to bring him back to the present.

“It's so.. Calm?” His words come out as a question instead of a statement, Newt didn't mean to sound curious but the truth is he is curious. How do they keep order? How do they keep things running around here? “The others were shocked too, speaking of them you want to get dinner?” Newt's stomach growled at the suggestion, his eyebrows raised. Thomas doesn't move and simply waits for Newt's response. “Well c'mon then! I'm not getting there on my own!” he says playfully before attempting to speed up his walking despite Thomas's protests, Eventually Newt's leg refuses to get with the program and they are forced to a leisurely pace towards the unlit bonfire hand in hand. The gentle breeze lifting any heaviness left in his chest, the sound of grass under his shoes keeping him in the present instead of the past full of sand and hatred. 

The sky above is mixed with oranges, pinks and gentle clouds as the sun slowly begins to set, the air slowly getting colder as the afternoon turns to night. As time passes by people with unknown voices and faces to match dwindle away to hammocks or huts if owned, and all the remains are the few gladers that remain paired with clinking of utensils and fits of laughter. Even Gally joining in on the smiles and giggles, sweet tasting alcohol Newt can't be bothered to ask the name of eventually being passed around. Maybe one day in the future, nearby or distant they will speak of the scorch and wicked but not tonight. Tonight is for stars and laughter that bubbles in his chest and makes Newt’s face hurt, tonight is for joy. 

Newt is sitting with his crappy leg elevated by a small log. Thomas insisted on running around for five minutes trying to find it, lifting Newt's leg and placing it on top of the log saying “it helps with swelling!” Newt found the sight of slightly tipsy Thomas running around in the grass to find the log very endearing, repressing a fit of giggles when Thomas threw his hands in the air and whooped in excitement at the find. Newt's other leg is pressed against his chest, his arms hugging around it. Frypan grins to himself as he collects everyone except Gallys cleared plates, Gally still working on his meal scoffing down his food. “Fry you gotta step up your game man!” He exclaims between mouthfuls. “Oh really? So you wouldn’t mind if I-“ - Frypan goes to take Gally half eaten plate of food before Gally swats away his hand with a scowl. - “that’s what I thought!” He beams with a sarcastic grin “Fuck off man!” gally attempts to sound harsh, the slight grin on his face making it clear he’s not mad. Frypan walks away, plates and cups stacked skilfully, he laughs the whole way back to the kitchen before he’s too far away to hear. 

Minutes later Gally licks his plate clean before walking off to the kitchen, “I forgot what actual food tastes like, that shit we had in the scorch was driving me nuts!” Minho’s voice slicing through the silence, the bright fire warming Newt’s sore body. “If that ain't the buggin’ truth.” Newt replied with much less enthusiasm, his voice dipping into soft silence. a comfortable wave of exhaustion crashing down onto him. Soon Gally and Frypan made their way back and everyone drifted back into comfortable conversation and laughter, the warmth of the fire and eventually Thomas's arm wrapped around him made Newt's eyes feel heavy and body like jelly, sinking into feeling his eyes threatening to pull him away from the magical night. The voices of the people he cared about most dearly all mixed together into one beautiful unintelligible chorus as consciousness escaped him, except tonight he knew that no matter what, when he woke, he would be safe. No more cranks or running from wicked, only Thomas's arms and friends' laughter made him wish not to sleep. 

Newt drifted from half consciousness to being asleep and back again over the course of 30 minutes, an hour? He couldn't tell anymore. Newt feels Thomas's breath on his ear, his lips less than a inch away as he whispers “hey hun, we gotta get up c'mon.” Newt groans in response, not wanting to wake up yet, he pulls his eyes open to find the sky has turned to darkness covered in bright stars. The fire dwindled, barely illuminating any light. In the distance Newt can see Minho’s slightly wider build compared to when they found him at wicked walking off, his legs more steady and sure. Newt's body felt heavy, his brain fogged with exhaustion. “I don't think i could stand even if I wanted to Tommy” his lips tugging upwards into a tired smile, trying to avoid the inevitable. 

“Then I'll carry you!” 

“What?!” 

“Cmon! Up you get!” Thomas is crouched now, one arm hooked under Newt's legs, the other hooked around his upper body attempting to lift him. Newt shrieked and tried to wriggle out of Thomas's grip to no avail, “I was joking!! Put. me. DOWN-!” Thomas quickly stands and spins around in circles quickly, Newt's cries of fear paired with Thomas's laughter. Eventually Newts screams twist into laughter and shrieks of joy, the world whirling in repeating blurred twists. “Ok ok i'm awake now!” Newt insists between happy cries, Thomas slowly stops spinning and puts Newt down. Newt attempts to walk back to where he was sitting moments earlier to retrieve his now discarded cane, forgetting momentarily about his.. Predicament. The world still wobbly combined with his already crappy leg with assistance, his walking mirroring a drunk he almost tumbles over until Thomas hooks his arm with Newts. They attempt to walk together, giggling as they still stumble despite the assistance of eachothers arms. 

Newt attempts to crouch down to grab his cane, sucking in a sharp breath between his teeth in pain. Thomas waves him off and picks it up for him, placing it in Newt's free hand. “What would you ever do without me?” he teases, his eyes crease as he grins. “Oh bugger off!” Newt exclaims, whacking Thomas in the shins with the stick. Thomas pretends to wince in agony despite the fact the tap was nothing but light before exclaiming back “how you have wounded me Newton! How dare you strike me-! OW-” this time his cries of pain are real, Newt whacks him in the leg again except harder this time. “Just because I have an old man cane doesn't mean I bloody hit like one!” Now it's Newts turn to tease, Thomas rolls his eyes as dramatically as humanly possible before interlocking his fingers with Newts, allowing their hands to fall by their sides as they walk to their hut. 

-

Newt woke up to the sounds of quick and loud breathing that was not his own, unlike Newt who was laying on his side facing the brunette Thomas was laying on his back with his hands clenched tightly into fists breathing rapidly. Thomas always has had nightmares, he doesn't toss and turn or scream he just wakes up in a cold sweat unable to fall back asleep. As weeks pass his nightmares have become more and more frequent and intense, Newt rolls onto his stomach towards Thomas careful not to suddenly touch him so as to not scare him out of sleep, he slowly raises his hands to Thomas’s face cupping it softly, his touch feather light. 

His thumbs graze across his cheekbones in an attempt to coax him back to sleep, he reassures quietly that he's okay even though Thomas can't hear him. Sometimes, this works and Thomas falls back into a deep sleep but clearly tonight is not his night because Thomas's eyes flick open, his pupils jumping from side to side. His breathing and the rising and falling of his chest slowly return to normal before his dark eyes land on Newt's hazel ones, his lips part as he begins to speak before Newt's voice cuts him off promptly.

“Dont.”

“Why not?”

“There's nothing to be sorry for!” 

“I woke you up-!”

“I. Don't. Care. You. Dumb. Shank. how many times do I have to say it!” Newt whisper scolds him, holding his face tighter to somehow emphasise his point. They lay in this position for a moment, looking into eachothers eyes seeing who will crack first. Thomas knows Newt will win this argument because he always does, despite this he still continues to stare for a moment before pressing his lips into a tight line. 

“I'll get you one day.” Thomas teases with a cheeky grin, Newt hums sarcastically back before Thomas rolls his eyes. Thomas wraps his arms around Newt's waist and pulls him closer, Newt obliged happily, shuffling closer so his face was in the crook of Thomas's neck, his fingers intertwined in brunette hair. The world is yet to wake, a lack of birds chirping and people speaking signifying its nowhere near close to breakfast. The sky is yet to rise as the sky is a pale blue, almost grey. A soft light blankets them through the window next to their cot which is pushed against the right wall, Newt scratches Thomas's scalp, willing him to drift back into dreams. Soft waves crashing nearby accompany the sound of their out of time breathes, Newt smiles to himself at the thought of the water against his legs and the sand between his toes. He's never swam at the beach before, he's cleared to do so if the water is calm since he doesn't have too much trouble walking on his own for short periods of time. 

“I reckon there will be a beach or lake, wouldn't that be nice? I'll teach you to swim Tommy, I'll teach ya’ to swim. That's a promise love-”

The memory bounces in his brain, he still remembers the stickiness of blood in between his fingers and the smell of gunpowder that night. His once heavy bones and sleepy eyes come back to life at the realisation that he hasn't followed through on the promise he made. He pauses and listens to Thomas's breathing, his breathing is steady but not deep. Newt kisses the underside of Thomas’s jaw before questioning quietly 

“Tommy, you ‘sleep yet?” Newt can almost feel the smile radiating off the brunette once Newt kisses him. 

“Not yet, why?” Newt props himself up onto his elbows, moving away slightly. Thomas frowns at the loss of body heat and looks up at Newt with a raised brow. 

“I told you I was gonna teach ya to swim. C’mon, Up you get!” Newt announces, his voice picking up from a whisper to its normal volume. 

“Huh??” Thomas questions, making no effort to fight when Newt grabs him by the hands to pull him to his feet. Newt begins to rummage around in their large chest drawer, pulls out two pairs of trunks and throws one to Thomas. 

“You might not remember..” Newt started, turning around to face the shorter boy. When the promise was made Thomas was.. Not in a good state but there's a high chance he doesn't even remember, but Newt is a man of his word goddamnit! This boy will learn how to swim! It's not like he's going to fall back asleep anyway. Plus, they live on an island knowing how to swim would most probably be useful! Plus Newt gets to see Thomas in board shorts so that's a plus. 

“Right before you passed out.. I said I was going to teach you to swim.” he finished, his voice going sombre for a moment at the memory. Thomas looks away for a moment, searching for the memory before his eyes snap back to Newt once he remembers. Newt bites his tongue at the memory, he pauses for a moment before beginning to say “we don't have to-”

“No! No. it's a nice idea babe.” Thomas interrupts, and smiles genuinely. Newt can't help but smile back, any embarrassment or guilt pouring out of him at the sight. 

Twenty minutes later Newt and Thomas were hand in hand walking across the sand of the beach, their free arms draped with one towel each. Despite the fact Newt could have walked the distance between their hut and the beach just fine on his own, Thomas insisted on holding his hand “just in case” just as he does every other time he gets the chance. “Are you sure you’ll be ok?” Thomas asks for about the third time in the 5 minutes it took to make it to the sandy part of the island.

“Yes! Now hurry up before I push ya in!” Newt drops his towel to the ground and drags Thomas into the water, Thomas steps in hesitantly. Newt takes both of Thomas’s hands and walks backwards into the water, eventually they make it to a small part where it's deep enough so Newt can stand but Thomas, since he's a bit shorter, can practise swimming on his own. Newt gently explains the basics, how to keep yourself up right, how to swim around and take breaths as you do and holds up Thomas during his first few attempts and cheers when Thomas starts to get it. 

Newt feels relief flood his entire body, he did it. They did it. They survived. And now? They get to live. In this moment, the water up to his chest and sand in his hair he realises how grateful he is to be able to live. Not just survive. Hes felt grateful after surviving grievers, cranks, wicked, bombs, fire, gunshots and wounds but this? This is another type of gratitude. He's not just grateful for his heart that pumps blood through his veins and the bones in his body remaining unbroken, hes grateful to wake up to sunrises and watch sunsets, hes grateful to watch gally start to smile a bit more and scowl a little less, hes grateful to watch Minho's scars fade and notice how his collar bones no longer stick out. He's grateful for being able to hum to himself as he washes his mostly clean hair, he's grateful for books and flowers and good food, this feeling is strange and new but oh so welcomed. 

There are hard days, very very hard days filled with tears and shouting everything being a reminder of everything horrible but that's just it. It's all just a reminder. And those hard days are so worth it to experience all the good ones. All the good days filled with warmth and laughing and slow kisses because now he, no. Everyone has all the time in the world. Newt watches as Thomas becomes entranced with something, Newt feels the warmth of the sunrise on his back and he realises Thomas is looking at him. Newt stares back at him, he too becomes entranced with the other. 

Newts eyes trail across Thomas’s body and face, the way the sun bounces off his skin and how as the weeks have passed Thomas's has gained more and more freckles, how water has pulled strands of rich chocolate hair in front of his eyes, the way Thomas’s eyes swirl with a pure devotion Newt only understands because he feels the same unwavering, permanent devotion in his chest too. Newt holds his hand up to cup Thomas’s now wet face, he leans into the touch and Newt feels like he could dissolve into the ocean at the sight. Both boys close the distance at the same time, Thomas’s lips coated in saltwater and freedom.

They have all the time in the world.

Authors note: ITS DONE. IT IS FINALLY DONE. I BET ON LOSING DOGS IS OFFICALLY DONE. I'm actually so proud of this fic and i just want to say thank you to everyone who stuck around since the very first chapter and have supported me throughout this. this story is literally my baby. this is the longest fic i have written and have actually FINISHED and its an honor to be able to share it with all of you. i could not have done it without all of your support and encouragement. :)

also THREE FICS IN LESS THEN 2 DAYS??? damn yall are spoilt ROTTEN!! (happy to spoil yall hehehehehehehehe 😚)

FIRST CHAPTER - NEXT - PREVIOUS

[starzsblog]

uhhhh-

Heyyy

man idk i just downloaded this thing cause my friend told me too 🧍‍♀️

soooo

i wrote this one shot Tetsuya Kuroko x reader thing

uh yeah i take  constructive criticism since this this the first time i’ve written a fanfic before 💪

As you walked inside the gym, the sound of squeaky shoes and a basketball striking the ground filled the air. You were wandering around the practice game with a black bento box in your hand, looking for your boyfriend. You knew it was harder to find Kuroko on the court, and the fact that the entire team was moving around a lot didn't help your case.

You simply sighed and sat on the bleachers, waiting for the practice to end. You didn't have much else to do that day but finishing your homework, right? After some time had gone, you heard Riko indicate that the practice was over. Following that, you were able to easily locate your loving boyfriend.

" Tesu," you yelled, hoping to catch his attention, which you did. He walked up to your spot on the bleachers and gave you a warm smile.

"Hey," he greeted as he sat next to you, "what are you doing here?" he asked, since you didn't come to his practices on a daily basis.

"Oh, I made you a bento," you replied as you handed it to him.

He gave you a tiny peck on the lips as he opened the bento box and said, "Thank you, but uh" he paused as he gazed at the bento box.

You were puzzled. Was there a problem with the bento box?

"What happened to the rest of the food?" he said, pointing out that it had been eaten in half.

"Oh well," you scratched the back of your head, "I got a little hungry while waiting for the practice to end."

He hummed as he closed the bento box, pulling his arms out as if he was asking for a hug. You got closer and wrapped your arms around him, drawing him into a tight embrace as he did the same. You were both enjoying each other's company as you closed your eyes.

“Mmm, I have to go change out." Kuroko murmured as he let go of his grip.

You glance at his face.

"I won't take long." he said as he kissed the top of your head on his way to the locker rooms.

You couldn't help but smile at the act and chose to kill time by scrolling through your phone.

Kuroko was walking out of the locker room with Kagami after some time had passed. Kuroko linked both of your hands together and waved goodbye to Kagami once he got close enough.

You threw the recyclable bento box in the trash as you two walked out of the gym. Kuroko looked at you, puzzled.

"Wasn't it mine?" he questioned, confused as to why you had tossed it.

"Yeah, but there wasn't much left in there, so I ate it all." You sighed and rested your chin on his shoulder.

"Don't worry, I'll make you another one tomorrow, and I swear I won't eat it again” you said, holding out your pinkie.

Kuroko let out a small laugh as he agreed and linked your pinkies making the promise sealed.

As he walked you to your home.

•

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so like yeah- my bad if it’s too short 😭



[queen-scribbles]

March, September, Minutes, Yesterday??? 💖 And also, I challenge you for "TODAY", to manage to write something, even just a little bit. 💪

march: do you listen to music whilst writing? 

Usually, yes. Either pick one of my spotify playlists/a random spot to start on my Liked Songs list ORRR put Lindsey Stirling on shuffle(there's a reason I was in her top 1% of liste

september: share a comment or review which still warms your heart?

The person who binged all 45 chapters/200k words of OWaP a couple weeks ago made my month, and I had someone comment Minefield(Exile/Bao-Dur) made them go feral :3

OH WAIT NO. I still have saved an older comment on OWaP that starts with the words "Oh, darn, I'm caught up." and that's the dream; to write something so good people are disappointed there's not more of it. (Also shoutout to everyone who's ever told me I wrote X character so well you read their dialogue in their voice. Those are my fave)

minutes: how long does it normally take you to complete a fic?

seriously, it depends on the fic. New chapters for OWaP/tLBT usually take a week or two to write and then another to type up, proofread, and edit(I handwrite first drafts, which makes it a bit slower bc a)I have to also type it up and b)I can only write so much before my hand hurts xD). One shot or prompts fill can be much faster if they behave themselves on word count. That Greedfall thing I posted on Sunday took 4-5 hours to write/type on Saturday, left it overnight, then proofed/edited/posted on Sunday.

yesterday: favourite way to write angst?

...to not. I kid, but it doens't happen often, I'm more into fluff or banter and the furthest I (usually) push it is hurt/comfort that's heavier on the comfort end of things. xD Every once in a while though, I stab ppl in the heart write angst bc the muses give me an idea that Wil. Not. go away until I write it down. In which case I do it as fast as I can, minimal editing, and throw it into the world. Usually followed by writing the most cotton candy fluff imaginable with the same muse as a palate cleanser. xD

For today, I wrote ~700 words on tLBT before I came into work, so ✔ (I'm hoping to write more while Mermaid is napping bc Monkey is back to school this week)