#i’m rotating this crossover in my head so much. help

[aegagrusscholarship]

whitehank scug hours

[birlcholtz]

Fic Questions

tagged by @the-lincyclopedia thank you!! (fun game: watch my writing get progressively less formal as the post continues. by the end it’s like what is capitalization)

1. How many works do you have on AO3?

77!

2. What’s your total AO3 word count?

434,378 as of this week but it does go up quite regularly

3. How many fandoms have you written for and what are they?

Okay so in terms of what’s on my AO3, I have Check Please, All For the Game, Sharp Zero, HP, and Miraculous Ladybug. I also have The Forbidden LOTR and PJO Fanfiction (as in, I’ve written it, but it’s never seeing the light of day)

(technically there is a PJO fic out there that has seen the light of day but I orphaned it because I was tired of getting comments asking about when it would be updated)

4. What are your top five fics by kudos?

and then i met you (and the whole world changed)

for the better

Knew It Was You

come home (to you, to us)

sin bin schematics

All of these are Check Please and all of them except Knew It Was You are part of my Zimbits Airport AU!

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

I do! It’s actually a very recent thing that I’ve started not responding to literally every single comment. Mainly I respond because I love talking about my writing so I am going to seize that opportunity when it comes up

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

Oh, DEFINITELY Happy Birthday (HP). Check out that MCD tag ahah. (I say HP but what I really mean is that I write fic about Regulus Black. The Regulus Black-centric tag is my home in the HP fandom)

fun fact: this is a very short fic that I wrote when I was 15 and basically forgot about until recently, and then I reread it recently and went holy shit?? I pulled NO punches????

7. Do you write crossovers? If so, what is the wildest one you’ve written?

Not a ton? I think a lot of the fandoms I write for don’t really mesh that well. That being said, the aforementioned orphaned PJO fic is actually a PJO/ML crossover, so there’s that

8. Have you ever received hate on a fic?

Nope! Sometimes I get comments that are just.... really confusing? And a more common thing is that in my AFTG fic I’ll get comments from people who are so focused on Andreil (or the most common ships in general) to the point that like. they miss the point of what I actually wrote. Those are annoying but they’re not hate, they’re very enthusiastic, they’re just... enthusiastic about a story I’m not writing? So it’s a bit frustrating.

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

No sjflskgjhgf I struggle enough to write kissing, I think if I ever tried to write smut my brain would just shut down. I’ve managed some fade-to-blacks (which are mostly in WIPs that haven’t been posted) but they rely HEAVILY on the powers of implication

10. Have you ever had a fic stolen?

Not that I know of!

11. Have you ever had a fic translated?

No, although I have occasionally made a brief go of it, not to post, more as an exercise for myself in a language that I’m learning. Anyway I never finish them so I’m gonna say no

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

Not really? I’ve definitely group brainstormed fics and then written them (the best example of this being Q&A (AFTG), which was the product of a truly off-the-walls group chat), but I tend to do all the actual writing myself. I think the way I write would drive a co-writer up the wall since it’s very disorganized and I don’t write stuff down because ~I know what’s gonna happen I don’t need notes~ and it would infuriate me if I was co-writing with me lmao, so I won’t inflict that on someone else

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

I regularly move through ships I’m SUPER focused on, like it’s kind of a rotation. I will forever and always ship Percabeth though.

14. What’s a WIP that you want to finish but don’t think you ever will?

Okay so if you follow me at @birlwrites you may know this already, but i have this ‘warmups’ document that is just like, random ideas i get that i don’t necessarily want to finish but i just want to try out for a bit? and i have a rule that once a ‘warmup’ is more than 10 pages long (so 11+) then it has to be moved to its own document, just to make scrolling through the warmups doc easier. but usually, a warmup only passes 10 pages when i’m INTO it. so i have a bazillion wips i will probably never finish. i complain about this a lot. i have so many wips. i don’t need more.

here’s one: it’s titled ‘interrobang doesn’t know they’re dating’, it’s basically a full outline for a chowder/tango fic and it would be SO cool if i could ever like. get around to writing it. but i am constantly swamped with writing projects, so it’s probably not gonna happen. if anyone’s interested in adopting it though i’d be down for that!! i think it’s a fun idea i just almost def won’t write it myself

15. What are your writing strengths?

SNAPPY DIALOGUE AND SNARKY INTERNAL MONOLOGUE. my writing is COMEDIC, 90% of my ideas are based on a funny snippet that popped into my head, a lot of my worldbuilding is based on ‘hey you know what would be hilarious’ (whenever i explain how larai selects a chosen one in the rainfall universe i start laughing, which is a STARK contrast to how it plays out on the page), i love writing funny stuff!!

also i think my writing sounds nice, a lot of the time i pick words/syntax based on sound and flow so there’s that too. and i have lots of ideas! i don’t struggle much with writer’s block because a) i have a lot of strategies to deal with it and b) i have a lot of ideas to help get around it/work with it

16. What are your writing weaknesses?

PHYSICAL INTIMACY LMAO, sometimes in my end notes on shippy fics you can see me complaining ‘it took me literally 4 hours to write that very brief kiss’. also sometimes the humor in my writing gets in the way a bit, i have to very consciously put it away so characters can actually have serious, genuine emotions. also i don’t like outlining and i tend not to get betas for fanfiction so like..... i do my best continuity-wise but having really tightly plotted stories is just not my focus lol. (and i do put more effort into that for original stuff, it’s just fic where i kind of go wild)

17. What are your thoughts on writing dialogue in other languages in a fic?

If the reader’s supposed to know what it means, then writing it in another language is iffy for me. (stuff like terms of endearment which come up a lot in fic are fine imo, you can just put a note in to translate them and your reader will prob remember)

If the pov character isn’t supposed to understand it, and it doesn’t matter if the reader understands it, then ig it’s fine? but unless you already speak the other language (and i am NOT confident in my ability to translate english into literally any other language), then i think it’s way easier to just note that a character’s speaking x language and provide tone indicators, body language cues, etc. so the reader understands as much as the pov character.

That being said there are def times when it’s used super effectively--the dialogue in spanish in cemetery boys comes to mind! that’s not fanfic but it’s still creative writing so w/e

so i guess it comes down to: does actually writing out the dialogue in the other language serve a purpose? if it doesn’t, then you’re filling up the screen with words your reader isn’t likely to understand, which i try to avoid doing

18. What was the first fandom you wrote for?

so the first fandom i actually *wrote* for was PJO, but i distinctly remember creating warrior cats OCs when i was little. i never actually did anything w them but i had them and my favorite was a riverclan warrior named shellstream i remember this VIVIDLY

19. What’s your favorite fic you’ve ever written?

oh boy. okay so this is hard because i feel like i’m continuously improving as a writer. like in the sense that my writing is getting closer and closer to really matching my own taste? my favorites tend to always be my current projects as a result. and i do really love set those ghosts alight (HP) but it feels a little like cheating to say a fic i haven’t even finished writing yet. even though it’s def not cheating, that’s just the direction my brain is taking it.

i’m gonna say and then what? (OMGCP) because i’m super proud of the prose (especially ch 2 aka the first actual prose chapter), survived by (HP) for SUCCESSFULLY WRITING AN EMOTION and making readers cry :), and Q&A (AFTG) because i’m literally the one who wrote it and yet it still makes me wheeze. those are all fics i reread occasionally, because i’m big enough to admit i enjoy rereading my old stuff! (just like. to a point. some of my old stuff i can’t look at anymore because all the mistakes stick out to me like they have spotlights shining directly on them)

this was fun!! i’m gonna do an open tag because i just started my fall semester and brain tired. i know sometimes people see open tags and assume the op didn’t really mean it but I MEAN IT, PLEASE DO THIS AND TAG ME!!!!! YES YOU READING THIS

[tamakiamajikistentacles]

Fucking Hormones {KiriBaku}

A/N: Please be sure to reblog, comment, review, and like if you enjoy! Feedback is what keeps me motivated! This is pretty much pure crack born from this post I made that kind of blew up? Hopefully this is a good crossover to sate your KiriBaku needs!

Bakugo had a vivid imagination. Growing up as an only child and travelling with his parents kind of necessitated it. When he was a kid he had spent long hours both in his parents’ office and on planes letting his imagination run wild. It was why he had the design of his hero costume six years before he had ever stepped foot onto UA’s campus for the entrance exam and how he already knew what color the walls would be painted when he opened his own agency (Pantone 360 C, thank you very much).

As he grew older though, that particular attribute had evolved from creating future plans to creating fantasy lovers once he hit puberty. Nameless, faceless, and oftentimes sexless, he imagined hands on him and his hands tracing over curves and dips of muscle depending on the night; sometimes they fucked him, sometimes he fucked them. Either way it played out, there was no name to shout or eye color he could manifest to look into.

Until one night in his dorm room when he came so hard with his best friend’s name on his tongue that he thought he’d blackout. He’d had the image of red hair and red eyes and sharp teeth in his head as he concentrated on the idea that his hand wasn’t his own but rather that of the classmate next door.

The initial bliss from release didn’t last long, panic flooding his system as he realized that he was fantasizing about Kirishima. There had never been a specific person in his thoughts before and the fact that he enjoyed it more when he was thinking of that stupid grin on his face? He was fucked. Absolutely fucking fucked.

He grabbed his discarded shirt and wiped himself clean, yanking his sweats back up his legs and trying to figure out what the hell he was supposed to do next because holy shit, this was not what he’d expected when he’d settled into his bed less than half an hour ago to jerk off. There was no doubt that Kirishima was his best friend and kind of the only person he could stand being around voluntarily for more than twenty minutes and that he was tan and muscled and—shit.

“This night can’t possibly get worse,” he murmured, pressing the heel of his hand against his temple.

Then his balcony doors flew open with a deafening crash, shuddering in the sudden wind that swept through his room under the moonlight. He jumped to his feet with his heart hammering in his chest, turning between the balcony and another loud bang from his bathroom door flying open and hitting the wall. Crackling lightening clouded his vision as thunder boomed.

He was under attack literally two minutes removed from cumming, what the fuck—

“Hello, my cheesy little rigatoni,” a sultry voice purred from the bathroom doorway.

“WHO IN THE FUCK ARE YOU?” he shouted, sweatpants slung low on his hips and his palms igniting for the fight that was sure to come.

A feminine chuckle filled his ears as a furry creature emerged from his bathroom, long auburn hair seeming to grow fuller as it shifted in the breeze and pink painted lips smirking devilishly as she grew closer. Cloven hooves clicked on the hardwood floor and yet somehow the one thing that registered to him as disturbing was the ample bust covered in brown fur.

“I’m your hormone monstress, sweetheart. You can call me Connie because you and me?”—she gestured between them— “We’re gonna have a lot of fun together.”

His eye twitched. “I ain’t the fun type and I sure as hell don’t need some…some… whatever the fuck you are giving me shit about jerking off!”

“Now that’s no way to speak to the one who’s going to guide you through these changes.”

“Guide me though…? Newflash, bitch: I’ve gone through puberty. Just listen to my voice, fuck! Do I sound like my balls haven’t dropped yet?”

She tossed her hair over her shoulder and her blue eyes held indifference. “Honey it’s not my fault breaking into the Japanese market was hard and then caused a backlog. Even if assignments come in late I still gotta do ‘em.”

“Are you absolutely fucking kidding me? I DON’T NEED YOU!”

“If you want help getting in the pants of that boy who’s name you just shouted while shuckin’ corn then I think you do,” she tempted, watching his jaw set. “What’s his name, now? Kirishima?”

“Do not say his name,” he warned with a threatening point of his finger.

“C’mon now honey,” she said, hopping up to sit on his desk and crossing one leg over the other. “We’ve got to get planning because the five-finger shuffle isn’t gonna keep you happy for long when all you want is that boy’s hand down your pants.”

Bakugo stared at her for a long moment before looking down at his hands and then over his shoulder to his open balcony doors. Then, with a nod of conviction, he moved to close the balcony doors and slipped back under his blankets.

“I’ve gone fucking insane,” he murmured as he closed his eyes. He was having a weird as shit lucid dream after blacking out from that orgasm. All he had to do was fall asleep in this dream and he would wake up alone.  And when he woke up this walking pair of furry tits would be gone and cum would be flaking off of his skin.

She was not gone.

At least, not permanently. It was like she just materialized next to him when his dick even so much as twitched when he thought something inappropriate about Kirishima.

The first time it happened was in training the day after she’d first appeared. They had all been rotating sparring partners, and when he was paired with Kirishima and had him pressed against the ground for the five count the redhead smiled excitedly.

“Man, you’re the best even without your quirk! Seriously so manly!”

Bakugo scoffed, waving him off to where his water bottle sat. “And don’t you ever forget it, Shitty Hair.”

As the laughter of his friend faded he felt a soft brush at the base of his neck, whirling around ready to fight whatever classmate decided to touch him. Instead, though, he came face to face with what he thought had been another creation of his imagination.

The monstress who’d introduced herself as Connie the night prior stood before him in a UA training jacket unzipped to show off her cleavage and her hair pulled high in a ponytail atop her head.

“What the fuck—”

“Oh sugar, you may think that hair’s shitty but I bet it’s good enough to pull when he’s between your thighs and those teeth? Mmm, just imagine ‘em givin’ a nice little nibble to your—"

“SHUT THE FUCK UP YOU HORNED BITCH!”

A jolt of panic ran through him when he realized that his classmates might not be able to see her. They were going to think he was absolutely off his rocker screaming at nothing. But when he surveyed the training grounds he saw that no one was paying him any mind.

“Believe it or not I’m not big on audiences,” she cooed into his ear.

And that’s how he spent his days going forward—paranoid of her popping out of thin air to tease him about Kirishima unknowingly making his heart jump into his throat or making his pants feel tighter. It didn’t happen every time (she would’ve never left his side then, honestly) but it happened enough that he legitimately contemplated labeling her as a villain. She made his life hell just like one with all her antics.

It had been an exam day in Cementoss’ literature class, their task to complete twelve multiple choice questions and two open-ended prompts. He’d read the material and taken plenty of notes to breeze through it with only one multiple choice that he wasn’t entirely sure of. So with nothing better to do he surveyed his classmates, spying Kaminari nervous and breathing heavily with Kirishima sat behind him concentrating on the paper in front of him harder than Bakugo had ever seen. He’d helped him study so it was nice to see he was putting all his effort into doing well.

But when his tongue darted out to wet his lips time slowed to a crawl and suddenly he was feeling very, very warm as that tongue stayed poking out of the corner of his mouth.

“He looks like the type who just knows how to use his tongue, virgin or not,” the monstress whispered from his left, and when he whipped around to face her he saw that she was perched on the windowsill wearing reading glasses and skimming over the text they were being quizzed on. “Do you think he’s the type to be excited and quick or slow and enjoy bein’ a lil tease?”

Bakugo snapped his pen in half.

Then there was the evening in the common room when the entire class had gathered for an ice cream party because sure, a bunch of teenagers definitely needed all that sugar on a Wednesday night. Though it wasn’t terrible to be sat amongst Kirishima, Kaminari, Jiro, Ashido, and Sero as they talked about strategic costume alterations and he savored the cinnamon ice cream in his bowl. It was fairly calm until he heard the grating sound of Kirishima’s straw trying to get every last bit of his milkshake, and he looked up to tell him to knock it off but froze when he saw the redhead’s cheeks slightly puffed out from the treat and a trail of vanilla dripping from his lips and down his chin.

Pressing the cold bowl in his hands against the crotch of his pants didn’t do as much as he hoped, especially when Kirishima swallowed loudly and wiped the drip from his face with two fingers, promptly sucking it off a moment later and declaring with a laugh that he may have brain freeze.

“Hmm,” he heard from beside him, turning to find Connie with her own strawberry cone in hand, “I think we both know that what you’ve got for him wouldn’t give him brain freeze. He looks good with a little something on his face, don’t you think?”

Fuck yes he did but he wasn’t about to tell her that, instead choosing to shovel a spoonful of his own dessert into his mouth. The knock of the metal spoon against his teeth hurt just enough to distract him for all of three seconds from the raging boner he was sporting.

There was also movie night in Sero’s room when halfway through the second movie Kirishima needed a phone charger and crossed in front of his spot in the hammock to bend down and get the spare cord from Sero’s desk drawer. His tshirt lifted slightly as he did to expose the curve of his lower back and the dimples set at his hips which were subtle but defined enough that Bakugo idly wondered…

“…if you could feel ‘em when you wrapped your legs around those delicious hips?”

He hated that she could read him like a fucking book. But he also hated that he had apparently now developed a fetish for best friend’s back.

Even during training when he was watching Kirishima work on his Unbreakable form against Shoji from the sidelines, the class’ task to critique their peers’ moves and assess them for potential counters that villains could utilize, he stared at the hard lines of his back. When he activated his quirk the hardening deepened the definition of his muscles as they raised up in craggy patterns that drew hills and valleys down the length of his spine.

His strength and resilience was hot as shit. Bakugo could train with him until his arms trembled with overuse from his quirk and not a single scorch mark would be left on the redhead, just another wide smile. Even close-range explosions couldn’t crack him, and he could think of situations other than close combat where that would be useful.

“Shame that you can’t scratch those shoulders up, ain’t it?” Connie murmured over his shoulder.

Not quite, he mused to himself. He had great control of himself when it came to his quirk, but where Kirishima was concerned was rapidly becoming a different story.

Say he did try to scratch those shoulders—if his quirk went off because he was in a stupidly dizzy haze due to Kirishima being that close to him, he wouldn’t hurt him. A far bigger blessing in his opinion. Besides, scratches weren’t the only way he could mark him up.

“What’s that smirk for baby?”

“Eat shit and die.”

Bakugo wasn’t a rule breaker. He lived his life on the straight and narrow in every aspect except apparently for his sexuality. Which is how he ended up breaking locker room rule number one: don’t check out your bros when changing.

At least he wasn’t obvious about it though, he justified. A peek from the corner of his eye here, a half-lidded glance there. With a quirk like his he didn’t get the chance to be subtle often but he was damn good at it.

No one around him knew that from his peripheral he was tracing the outline of Kirishima’s body in just his boxer briefs, savoring it for every second he could before his uniform pants slid up his legs.

A soft tickle on his arm let him know that something had noticed and he grimaced at the sound of her voice.

“Ohhh you picked a good one, my tasty little cherry bomb,” she cooed from her position against the lockers, bottom lip bitten between her teeth as she gazed longingly over his shoulder. “I could bounce an American quarter off of that tight little ass.”

“Shut your damn mouth!” he hissed as a furious blush covered his cheeks. Another glance at his friend showed that he was finishing the top button on his shirt before tucking it into his pants. He could even make the uniform look good, it was entirely unfair.

“Even with clothes on that boy has you feeling tingly,” she teased as tendrils of her hair wrapped around his waist. “But honey we gotta get in them pants and find out if those red drapes have a matching carpet!”

Before he could stop it his traitorous mouth revealed, “They don’t.”

She gasped and pulled him closer with her hair, his bare chest pressed against her furry one. “Start talking, motherfucker.”

“Fuck, it’s not a big deal!” he defended, squirming in the tight grip of her hair. “You’ve seen his hero costume—he’s shirtless! His happy trail is pitch black, okay? It’s… just something I noticed. And then that pink bitch told me he started dying and spiking it for high school, in middle school it was still black and he always wore it down.”

Connie narrowed her eyes but unwound her hair to let him finish dressing, crossing her arms as she surveyed the remaining boys. The locker room was almost completely empty save for himself, Kirishima, and Kaminari.

“He doesn’t like her, does he?”

Bakugo paused as he pulled on his blazer. “Raccoon Eyes? No? I mean, shit, I don’t know? I just know they went to the same middle school or whatever.”

She hummed. “Middle school friends, high school sweethearts, hero power couple, lil pink babies with some sharp teeth…”

“Shut. the hell. up,” he warned. “I’d know if he liked her, I’m his best friend. He’d tell me shit like that.”

“When?” she asked sassily. “You haven’t spent a lick of time alone with that boy since my cute ass got here. You’ve only hung out together in your little group so when would he tell you?”

The fact that she had made a damn good point had him wanting to blow up the entire building.

“Fuck you,” he spat, slamming his locker shut. He shoved his bag under his arm and stomped over to his friends, Kirishima spotting him over Kaminari’s shoulder and giving him a grin that should not have been as hot as it was.

“Hey, man!” he greeted, Kaminari turning and doing the same.

Bakugo grabbed the sleeve of his blazer and tugged him towards the door. “Walk with me.”

He stumbled as he followed, a clumsy wave to Kaminari thrown over his shoulder as he gained his bearings enough to walk with his friend once they reached the hallway. He’d since let go of his sleeve, hands shoved into his pockets and a flush to his cheeks.

“Everything good bro?” Kirishima asked with a furrowed brow.

“I gotta go to the shopping district tomorrow.”

“Oh, what do you have to get?”

“Got a bunch of shit I need to grab,” he huffed as they exited the building and started down the path to the dorms. “You said there was a new album you wanted to get, yeah?”

He grinned, surprised but delighted that he’d remembered him mentioning it. “Yeah, it’s a rerelease of my favorite album on vinyl and when I looked at it online it was so cool! Like the actual record is dark blue and then it has—”

“Just come with me tomorrow and show me then, Hair for Brains.”

“O-oh? I mean, yeah. Yeah!” he said excitedly. “What time were you thinking of going?”

“Train leaves at nine.”

The sharp smile was blinding and dammit he wanted to blast the butterflies in his stomach straight to hell where the little beasts belonged. Half of him was desperate to keep the smile on his lips while the other half wondered how hard would be too hard if Kirishima ever bit his neck as he worked a red and purple bruise into his skin, and just imagining it had him quickening his pace to get the fuck to his dorm room and take care of the rapidly growing problem just below his belt.

Kirishima kept up with his longer strides and didn’t leave his side as they got into the elevator to go to their floor. For the time being, Bakugo hated that their rooms were right next door to one another. He was bound to hear him moan his name some night (what if it was that night? or in the next five minutes?) and he was wholly unprepared to try and talk his way out of that particular situation.

“Did you see the group chat?”

Bakugo blinked. “What?”

“Sero’s dad dropped off like eight boxes of dango from Tokyo and he said he was gonna share with us after dinner! Do you want me to get you when it’s time for dinner and then we can find them to eat? Wait, do you think he’s gonna share with the entire class? Because I’d feel bad if we were the only ones—”

“Just knock on my door when you’re ready to eat,” he grunted as he pulled his keycard out of his pocket, strategically angling his hips away from his friend. “I’m starting my essay.”

“Oh yeah, sure!” he agreed as Bakugo entered his room. “I probably should too, I mean the English translations take me forever and that essay’s supposed to be like two thousand words—”

He closed the door on his rambling and dropped his bag to the floor. Like fuck was he starting that essay when he could feel his heartbeat in his underwear.

“You know…”

Shit.

“…even if it takes him a while to translate I’ve got some nice English phrases you can drop on your date tomorrow, baby.”

“It’s not a date, shitty bitch!” he hissed as he threw open his closet door to find comfier clothes to change into. The sound of her voice was an instant boner killer so the great idea of jerking off before dinner was shot down as he’d gone softer with each word that rolled off of her tongue.

“But it could be!” she said, excitedly throwing her hands above her head.

“No.”

“But you heard how excited he was! You two can sit nice and close on the train and if your jacket’s over your laps? Honey!”

“You need to fucking get over the idea that tomorrow is a date because I only did it to hang out and see if he actually does like Pinky. He fucking doesn’t but now I wanna hear him say it,” he grumbled as he slipped his tshirt over his head.

Connie sighed as she slumped down to sit on his bed. “Katsuki, can you just let yourself be honest? You want it to be a date. Since we met I’ve always pegged you as a guy who gets what he wants. Why are you so against this?”

Bakugo paused for several reasons. The first was the use of his given name because really, had she ever even said his name? Given or surname? Not that he could remember; it was always too-sweet pet names with her. Second was the tone which held no sass or sex appeal or teasing. And the last one was the fact that shit, he did go after what he wanted, didn’t he? Except…

“I’ve got him as a friend and a bastard like me can’t wish for much more than that. ‘S already more than I deserve at this point.”

“Baby, punishing yourself ain’t helping anybody.”

“I’m not punishing myself!” he snapped. “I’m stating a fact! I won’t ask for more when it isn’t something that can happen!”

“You mean you can’t be brave enough to take a chance.”

His shoulders tensed and anger sparked both from his palms and throughout his entire being. Him? Not brave? HIM? Katsuki FUCKING Bakugo? Future Number One Pro Hero of Japan?

“Shitty woman I’m braver than half of the extras in this school—in this country!—and don’t you ever fucking question that again! I’ll fucking show you who’s not brave! Stupid fucking bitch with your goddamn furry ass tits coming into my room and calling me a fucking coward..!”

He continued his angry rambling as he stomped to his door and yanked it open as hard as he could.

Turning away from Bakugo, Kirishima entered his room and tossed his blazer aside, one hand raking through the gelled spikes of his hair. His smile dropped; he was ready to lay in his bed with Fleetwood Mac on shuffle and wallow like the sad, gay disaster in love with his best friend that he was.

“Hey there, big boy.”

He nearly jumped out of his hardened skin at the smooth greeting from the monster posed atop his sheets, one leg kicked up behind him with a hoof pointing to the ceiling and his head lazily held by a propped-up arm.

“Maury you scared the shit out of me!”

“Sorry, sorry. Hey, listen, how’d everything go with your blonde boom stick? Did we see his boom stick yet? Tell me I didn’t miss it because I’ve gotta know if that kid’s pubes are as spiky as his hair.”

He frowned as he changed from his uniform into his lounge clothes. “You’re gross, dude. But anyway, Bakugo doesn’t like me like that. You gotta stop pushing it.”

“Kirishima, c’mon, you gotta have a little faith!”

“Faith in what? That he asked me to go to the shopping district with him tomorrow as a date? That’s not likely, man.”

The monster rolled his eyes as he stood up and approached him, arms crossed in front of his chest and an unimpressed look on his impish face. He hadn’t particularly wanted to pull this card but goddammit this kid had to get a fucking grip.

“Super unmanly of you not to act on your feelings, Red,” he goaded. “I thought no regrets meant you’d man up and shoot your shot with that walking stick of dynamite but I guess you’re not as strong in those beliefs as I thought.”

“C’mon man, that’s not fair!” Kirishima said with a pout.

He threw his hands up. “Am I wrong though? One day you’re gonna regret not saying anything and be upset when you realize that you two coulda been together.”

The redhead bit his lip. “I can’t just ruin our friendship like that.”

“Kid, listen. Do you think that Crimson guy you like would keep his feelings for someone a secret like this? Or would he sack up and figure out if those feelings are returned? I’m not sayin’ I’m great at the whole romance part of all this but damn, you gotta try!”

“I can’t!”

“Can’t or won’t? Trying doesn’t mean professing your love straight away! Just go ask him something about tomorrow like why he asked just you and not all your friends. Get a feel for it before you get a feel of him!”

Kirishima bit his lip. “I guess… I guess I could ask why the rest of our friends weren’t invited. Maybe say that Kaminari texted me…”

His voice trailed off as he turned to his door, brows furrowing as he considered the idea of going next door to Bakugo’s room. Without knowing or meaning to his feet carried him across the room and only once he had stepped out into the hallway did he realize what had happened, his lips parting in surprise and then even further when Bakugo’s door flung open and the blonde stepped out of his room. His face was flushed and his teeth were bared but when he realized Kirishima was in the hallway too the snarl dropped into a neutral frown.

They stared at one another for a long moment before Kirishima slowly approached his best friend. “Hey. I was just coming to see you.”

“Yeah? You ready for dinner now?”

“No,” he said. “I wanted to uh…”

He cocked an eyebrow at his friend, not used to the hesitation. It was… fuck, it was cute.

“Bakugo, tomorrow—”

“Is a date,” the blonde finished with conviction. He hoped the anxiety curled in his gut wasn’t visible on his face because shit, he may have just made the biggest mistake of his damn life if this went sideways.

Kirishima’s jaw dropped. “A-A date? We’re going on a date?”

Bakugo rolled his eyes and reached out to fist his hands in the horrendous orange shirt and yank him close, his body warming at the blush that rose on the redhead’s cheeks.

“We’re going on a fucking date,” he said before cupping the back of his neck and pulling him into a kiss. The muffled noise of surprise quickly turned into kissing him back and holy fucking shit he was kissing Kirishima.

Behind them stood the two hormone monsters, smirks across both their faces at one more first kiss in the books. Maury held his hand out for a low five and without even looking Connie batted his hand away and gave a slap to his ass.

A/N: Please be sure to reblog, comment, review, and like if you enjoy! Feedback is what keeps me motivated! Crackfics aren’t my specialty and I know there were some OOC moments but I hope this at least made y’all laugh lmao 

[voidsaber]

@dragonfly-wings1​ YES YESYES OKAY TALK TO ME ABOUT THE POTENTIAL OF THIS CROSSOVER. This is technically an extension of “what if the purrgils yeeted Thrawn + Ezra into alternate sci-fi universes” idea. But you have no idea how much I want Thrawn to be in B5 land. Or how much I wanna write an AU/fusion where Thrawn is commander of B5 as a sort of political assignment the Chiss know he would suck at and inevitably fuck up because they have nefarious plot reasons for wanting it. Good thing Eli is there to help Thrawn keep his position. The Chiss were a neutral party during the Earth-Minbari war so perhaps everyone is hoping that having a Chiss in charge after the unfortunate losses of the previous stations will help prevent bad luck and smooth things out by not having any bias for either Earth or Minbar.

But the main idea is just the Chimaera arriving in B5 space (probably in Sector 14. yknow). Thrawn meeting John Sheridan. Cause like they have sooo much in common and I think about it all the time. Thrawn interacting with all the crew and ambassadors and being a pilot as well as a commander-esque figure! Kosh is Ezra’s dad/mentor figure now. Thrawn hates this. Thrawn is losing his mind at yet another galactic level threat amassing its forces and infiltrating/manipulating every species it can get its hands on and the various governments around the galaxy just fighting each other and/or ignoring it and the fact that Sheridan cant get EarthGov to listen (same hat! same hat!). The two have a lot to talk about. “What do you mean ‘telepaths’?” “I mean there’s like people who can read minds here, like the Jedi!” Thrawn having uncomfortable Vader flashbacks and steering clear of Talia and Lyta and Kosh and the PsiCorps and getting Ezra to stick near him every time Bester is on board. And Bester can’t do anything to Ezra cause this kid is Too Powerful. Thrawn being a useful asset in the War by studying what little is known about their enemy’s culture and art! Thrawn and Sheridan admiring each other’s values and tactics and respectful command! The B5 crew and Chimaera crew hanging out! Ezra meeting the Rangers and having a community he can train with! Marcus is Ezra’s dad now? (Trans dad? Trans dad!) Garibaldi not tolerating even an iota of Thrawn’s nonsense but he has to put up with him like everybody else. Londo and G’Kar desperately trying to get Thrawn onto their sides and him just being tired of all this shit. Thrawn being immersed in a world with so much to learn and a fight that he can win, even if it isn’t his galaxy and his people he’s saving!

Basically Thrawn being in a well-constructed and well-wrtten sci-fi universe that I adore with all my heart!!!

I’m not gonna say this all set into place with Sheridan’s “I’ll keep it [the art] in a place of honour” line (S3E4) but basically. BASICALLY. I wrote a teensy bit on the idea the other day but it’s rough. I just have many plot bunnies in my head that I NEED to write ;n;

"This is the White Star transmitting to unidentified vessel, please respond. You have been recorded in unchecked rotation in hypersapce. If you remain any longer, you will be set adrift. Do you require assistance?" Thrawn saw Bridger raise his brow in the corner of his vision and tilt his head towards him. He had the same question, and so did everyone on the bridge. Hyperspace? The next was this: what would they do? "This is Grand Admiral Thrawn of the Galactic Empire. We would appreciate any assitance you wish to offer." --- "Humans from outside the known galaxy? We're drifting a little too far into fairytales." Captain John Sheridan ran his hands through his hair as he looked up from the flimsy. He didn't need this today. He didn't need this any day really. "Yes sir," Ivanova responded. "To be fair, is it really that hard to believe? We've got the Shadows on one hand raging a galactic war on every member of the League with pawns on Earth, which, may I remind you, we have ceceded from, we have Delenn, who by all rights shouldn't exist either, telepaths all over the place-- and need I remind you of the wonderful mess that is Babylon 4? Go back a few hundred years and all of this would have been crazy. I'm sure the universe has time to throw in some interdimensional travellers." She punctuated her statements with her classic nod and smile, that look she threw Sheridan in the face of the familiar nonsense they dealt with every day now. He thought with the galaxy growing ever crazier she would have grown used to it, but perhaps habits died hard. He had to say, it kept him grounded in a way. Ivanova, while not always right, was constant. Sheridan hummed. He thought again to that voice, those many voices, whispered in the night from an old friend. He is arriving; the man who shares your heart.

[caesarontv]

iwaoi fic recs

it’s occurred to me that i read a lot but i don’t read many actual books so. here we go:

posted: 31/08/19

updated: 20/09/19

– new phone who dis - meruemsthighs • completed • 57,747 • teen

Oikawa texts the wrong number when complaining about Ushijima, and then keeps texting Iwaizumi.

– read it and weep - unknown • completed • 14,075 • teen

Iwaizumi Hajime writes an abrasive critique of golden boy Oikawa Tooru's terrible self-help book. What happens afterwards is a testament to how horrible Iwaizumi's luck really is.

– drawn to you - SportsAnimeRuinedMyLife • completed • 16,248 • teen

Iwaizumi is a shoujo manga author, Oikawa definitely isn’t stalking him and Hanamaki and Matsuwaka manage to make falling in love look easy.

aka. the GSNK crossover that no one asked for

– let me count the ways - whiitemists • completed • 4,162 • general

“iwa-chan, how much do you love me?” “more than i can count on all of my fingers and toes.” “you wanna use mine?”

– dyspnea/arrhythmia - carafin • completed • 10,812 • teen

In which Iwaizumi Hajime is a junior doctor suffering through his medical rotation, and Dr. Oikawa Tooru is his insufferable mentor. Medical AU.

‘I heard your internal medicine rotation’s going to be at Miyagi Central Hospital,' Suga says, turning to Iwaizumi. 'Who’s your mentor gonna be?’

‘Dr. Oikawa Tooru,’ Iwaizumi replies, and barely has time to yank his body back as Suga chokes on and almost sprays out a mouthful of alcohol.

‘What is it,’ Iwaizumi says, feeling a little unnerved.

In response, Suga simply drags a pitcher of alcohol from across the table, and starts to tip more beer into Iwaizumi’s glass. ‘You’re going to need this,’ Suga says.

– Coffee King - oiivkawa • completed • 187,790 • explicit

“I’m in love,” Oikawa declared, succumbing to the warm embrace of his arms once more, burying his head deep within the confines.

“You’re dating someone? Oh shit, I didn’t know that,” Kuroo whistled.

“I wish,” Oikawa responded with a sigh, memory flashing back to the handsome stranger and his green eyes, warm complexion, and those arms –

“Oh, so it’s that kind of love. Alright, hit me. What’s his name?” Oikawa’s face twisted down in an offended glare. “You don’t know his name?” Kuroo asked carefully, lips teetering on the edge of a smile.

“Not yet, but I will. Mark my words, the next time he comes in here I’m going to get his name and his number,” Oikawa announced firmly.

“That is, if he comes back. You know, this could have been a one time thing,” Bokuto reminded unhelpfully.

“I take back what I said earlier. I’m firing you,” Oikawa deadpanned.

– 21 Again - project_ecto • completed • 72,237 • mature

Oikawa, setter of the national volleyball team, and Iwaizumi, a university teacher, are going through a divorce that the latter initiated. An unwise Oikawa thinks the only way to save their marriage is to stall the divorce, until he meets a mysterious stranger who transforms him into his 21-year-old self. So he becomes what most 21-year-olds are: a university student. One that enrolls specifically in Iwaizumi’s school.

Oikawa then embarks on a mission to find out where it all went wrong but as he interacts with 31-year-old Iwaizumi in his 21-year-old self, Oikawa discovers a few things that changes his course. Loosely based on 17 Again.

– Arrest me Officer - leurauxe • completed • 122,275 • general (although i probably wouldn't call it that)

‘Perhaps getting mugged at two in the morning isn’t such a bad idea’ Oikawa thinks as he eyes the world’s hottest policeman settled in the seat across from him.

In which Oikawa is a news reporter head over heels for a commanding police officer.

– Dinner and a Movie - rikke • completed • 11,010 • teen

As a good vice captain, Iwaizumi would do a lot for his volleyball club's success and general welfare, including, apparently, fake dating Oikawa.

– Shiver - Yuu_chi • completed • 16,703 • teen

Oikawa was always the brave one. Hajime just followed two paces behind.

– florals for spring? groundbreaking. - MissMairan • completed • 24,373 • teen

Tooru considers himself a good person. An amazing one, really. He's raised his son after being quite rudely left by the mother, and Shouyou's turned out pretty alright, if someone asked him. So, when Shouyou's principal calls, saying his son had gotten in trouble for fighting, Tooru does what any self-respecting, fashion-designing-father would do. He agrees with his son: that shirt really is ugly.

– you’re looking like you fell in love tonight - anyadisee • completed • 34,930 • teen

“So, let me see if I understood this correctly,” Hajime says, slow and careful like he’s still waiting for some kind of punchline. “You want me to help Oikawa Tooru, a guy I barely know, because your boyfriend owes him a favor?”

“And you owe me a favor,” Hanamaki adds helpfully.

“That doesn’t even make any sense!”

“Sure it does.” Hanamaki’s smile widens. “Issei and I are practically the same person by now, anyway, so whatever favor you owe me, you also owe him. And by repaying me, you are repaying him, and in turn he is repaying Oikawa. Think of it as, like, the transitive property of equality. A equals B equals C. A equals C.”

“I know what the transitive property of equality is,” Hajime snaps.

[in which iwaizumi pretends to be oikawa's boyfriend.]

– I Followed Fires - EclecticInkling • completed • 66,742 • teen

“When the time comes, it will take you to safety. Just look towards the east,” his mother had said. He hoped she was right. He needed all the safety and help he could get if he was going to win back his throne.

– Phone Home - ghostystarr • completed • 6,553 • general

Oikawa Tooru is currently orbiting Earth at 445 kilometers per minute, but falling in love with the voice in his ear makes it feel so much slower than that. AU Iwaoi.

– the river runs - tothemoon • completed • 11,919 • teen

At the start of the new year, and one whole year since their breakup, Oikawa Tooru starts a list of daily reminders, tips, and tricks called HOW TO FORGET ABOUT IWAIZUMI HAJIME, and he’s determined to make it stick.

—

This is a firsthand account of how to deal (and rather spectacularly, at that).

– all the words of time and space - kagshina • completed • 46,712 • teen

greys_alien: you should change your username to “addicted2bugs” greys_alien: yours is boring greys_alien: i can’t be friends with someone boring

Half an hour later, he gets a message from addicted2bugs.

Or, Tooru needs a friend, Hajime just so happens to be on a chat site at the right time, and neither of them can predict what's to follow.

– When You Wish Upon a Star - emerald1963 • completed • 31,975 • teen

Hajime has no idea how this situation is even possible, but he’s one hundred percent certain that it’s all Oikawa’s fault.

Oikawa blames the aliens.

The Iwaoi body swap fic that this fandom needs, if not the one it deserves.

– to be first, to be best - kittebasu • completed • 26,404 • teen

Hajime is apparently something of a masochist, and as he stares down at the tie-dyed AREA51 T-shirt in his hands, he thinks “I’m totally in love with this asshole, aren't I?”

– Tokyo Boy - Verbrennung • completed • 16,655 • explicit

“Oh no, Tooru-” but thankfully Makki doesn’t say anything other than that. They reach for their drinks in sync, and Tooru tips his glass to his oncoming emotional apocalypse in one last sardonic acknowledgement of his terrible life before they both take a long pull of their drinks because oh yes, he’s fucked. He has feelings for Iwaizumi Hajime, who probably has casual lovers just like him in every major city he visits on business. Oikawa is just his Tokyo Boy, just another pit-stop on Iwaizumi’s travels. ~ A story about longing, and how not even 5,487 miles, a sixteen-hour time difference, or a 'casual' label can stop a stubborn heart (or two?) from falling in love.

– page 305 of 304 - izayas • ongoing • 45,435 • teen

“…she called you ‘papa’,” iwaizumi managed.

oikawa just stared for a moment longer before relaxing in a smile. “yeah. cute, right? but you can call me ‘daddy’ if you want.”

– Like One of Your French Girls - jibrailis •. completed • 4,054 • explicit

"I, Oikawa Tooru, captain of the Aobajousai volleyball team and all-around specimen of charm and talent, am completely and 100% a virgin."

– Superhero-sized Heart - manamune • completed • 4,508 • general

Iwaizumi loathes the day he has to tell the story of how he met Oikawa, because then he's going to have to explain why he suddenly grabbed him by his collar with a crying four-year old boy trailing behind him while dressed as Batman on the hottest day of the year.

– Six-Month Lover - afuzzyowl • completed • 89,000 • explicit

Iwaizumi barks out a laugh. “I’m still trying to get over the fact that you made a PowerPoint presentation about why we should date.”

Oikawa doesn’t tell him the file has existed for the last twelve years, constantly receives updates, and that the original copy contained almost a hundred slides before he forced himself to get a grip.

Moments in Oikawa’s journey to win over his best friend’s love: the sad, the happy, and everything in between.

– The 5 Times Oikawa Woke Iwaizumi Up - CheekyBrunette • completed • 7,186 • general

... And the one time Iwaizumi woke Oikawa up instead.

– In April - hiuythn • completed • 28,782 • teen

Tooru dates people and it takes Hajime a while to figure out why he hates it. Like six years.

– Because You’re My Home in Human Form - noelre • completed • 2,257 • teen

The thing is, the Oikawa Tooru he knows is vulnerable on Sunday evenings. Fragile. Insecure. Not at all like the peacock prancing in broad daylight spreading its flashy wings. It’s this Oikawa Tooru he’s willing to wrap his arms around and keep him safe from all harm the world tries to throw at him.

– yellow white red (camellia/gardenia) - unknown • completed • 9,012 • teen

An impressively annoying young man starts frequenting Hajime's flower shop. It goes downhill from there.

– in defense of our overgrown garden - carafin • completed • 2,595 • general

From: Ushijima Wakatoshi To: Oikawa Tooru

Dear neighbour,

Congratulations on moving into this neighbourhood with Iwaizumi. I hope you will enjoy your stay here, and I apologise for not being able to greet you in person, as I am a very busy man.

As you might have noticed, I have also placed a pot of flowers next to your doorstep as a housewarming gift. It is a rue plant, traditionally meant to symbolise ‘regret’. I have expended great effort to procure this plant for you, as this is not a common flower you can find in your neighbourhood florist. The symbolism is entirely intentional.

I look forward to seeing you (and your boyfriend) around.

Sincerely, Ushijima Wakatoshi

– Only Fools Fall - oseltamivir_phosphate • completed • 126,760 • mature

Oikawa had always wanted to be an alpha like Iwaizumi. He hated being a beta – the lesser status, but not entirely the least. That was until he experienced his first heat during his second year in university, and he wonders if it's too late to turn back into a beta.

– How Icarus fell in Love with the Sun - tsukkkiii • ongoing • 44,669 • mature

Oikawa has to find a fiance within a week or he has to leave Japan and thus his successful career and his friends. Obviously the best idea is to knock on his new neighbor's door at 11 pm and ask, "Will you marry me?"

Kind of a The Proposal AU. (Plot different)

(presumably discontinued, it was last updated in 2016 lol)

– i want you, i hope you’ll come to me - unknown • completed • 15,638 • teen

oikawa tooru has never received a love letter, but he's written five of them

– here’s to taking what you came for - Frenchibi • completed • 3,294 • general

“So - isn’t it obvious?” Oikawa spins around to face Iwaizumi, gesturing to the poster. “To solve our financial crisis - we pretend we’re dating!”

Iwaizumi stares at him for a full five seconds - before he throws back his head and laughs.

– electric feel - falchion • completed • 59,018 • mature

“Hey there,” Iwaizumi said, giving Oikawa a wry smile. “I’m your new god.”

There were two things Oikawa could tell about this man at a glance. One, that this ‘Iwaizumi’ guy was an asshole, and that two, he wasn’t going to hide that fact. Feeling himself grow hot at the condescending tone this man was taking with him, Oikawa shot him a steely look before lowering himself into a half-assed bow. “I’m Oikawa Tooru, I’m looking forward to working together with you.”

Not.

--

IwaOi model!AU, in which Oikawa is a model and Iwaizumi is his overbearing manager.

– Conquering the Great King - SuggestiveScribe • completed • 105,691 • explicit

Iwaizumi blinked his gaze over to Oikawa, "Last time was supposed to be a one time thing," he said, voice low, lacking some conviction.

Oikawa's lips twitched into a smirk and he brought them hovering just over Iwaizumi's, "One time thing, Two time thing, what's it matter as long as it's not a Relationship thing?"

– the yellow room - ohhotlamb • completed • 14,260 • teen

“I told you, we broke up like six months ago. We’re not dating anymore.”

Hanamaki eyes him suspiciously. “You live together.”

“Yeah, so?”

“There are pictures of you two kissing stuck to your refrigerator.”

Hajime shrugs. “That wasn’t my idea. Anyways, they’re good pictures. Good lighting.”

– just hear me out - loveclouds • completed • 7,679 • teen

To stimulate Japan's low birthrates and take most of the guesswork out of dating, a beeper system was biologically developed in people's wrists, an audible confirmation to show romantic compatibility.

Iwaizumi's beeper has been going off for Oikawa since they've been kids. Oikawa's has only ever been silent.

– no sleep in the city - loveclouds • completed • 7,344 • teen

Along their journey to find Tokyo's best ramen, Iwaizumi finds himself asked again and again why Oikawa is still single.

– the courtship ritual of the hercules beetle - kittebasu • completed • 66,307 • teen

Tooru is pretty sure he could manage the mating habits of a mosquito. It’s the mating habits of people he can’t seem to get right.

bonus:

– national hot dad alliance is now calling... - dicaeopolis, owlinaminor • completed • 58,210 • general

Sawamura Daichi: What the fuck.

(Or, the captains' squad interactions that definitely happen outside of canon, presented in Skype chat form.)

[daresplaining]

apologies if this has been asked before, but what are your top 5 Daredevil stories?

    I have to be honest– I’m terrible with these kinds of questions, because it often depends on my mood, what I’m currently reading, the– I don’t know– phases of the moon… At least three-quarters of my Daredevil consumption is re-reading stories and being reminded of how much I love them, and so my honest answer is that I don’t have a top five, or even probably a top ten; I have a rotating group of maybe thirty or forty stories that I love equally. Today, as I write this, the five that come to mind are (in no particular order): 

“With a Little Help From My Friends” (Volume 1 #375)

This issue slugged me in the gut the first time I read Kelly’s run, and it has retained its power for me over the years and become something of a comfort read. It’s a quintessential tale of perseverance and courage as Matt nearly fails, both in and out of costume, to save Karen from being jailed for a murder she didn’t commit. Simple but elegant and flawlessly executed.  

“Double Vision” (Volume 5 #606-608)

I’ll spare you from too much further elaboration, since I have an entire tag just for this story and have rambled on and on about it since it came out, but I stand by my assertion that this is one of the best, most creative, funniest-in-a-touching-sort-of-way, most fascinating Daredevil stories ever written. It’s one of the greatest status quo shake-ups I’ve ever seen, and I hope it does actually stick, because I’m slightly obsessed with Soule and Noto’s take on real Mike Murdock. 

“Guts” (Volume 1 #185)

Not enough people talk about how good Frank Miller is at writing humor, and how funny much of his early Daredevil work is, so I’ve decided to do it myself, as loudly as possible. I could have picked any number of issues– his and Mary Jo Duffy’s Daredevil/Power Man and Iron Fist crossover is another great example– but “Guts” is just… so much fun, in both concept and execution. Foggy acting out his noir private eye dreams while Matt protects him from the sidelines will never, ever get old for me. 

Volume 4 #8-10

Since I didn’t want this entire list to just be Waid stories (that was a serious possibility; Waid’s run is my favorite), I’ve limited myself to one. The Purple Children arc is a gorgeous piece of storytelling: haunting, poignant, and achingly powerful. In a long tradition of Daredevil narratives that dig into Matt’s psychological struggles, this one is remarkable for its genuineness and emphasis on hope and recovery. Plus, the Purple Children are excellent characters who allow for a new perspective on an old villain while also standing on their own as fascinating additions to the Daredevil cast. 

“Last Rites” (Volume 1 #297-300)

It was between this story and “Born Again”, and I already have Miller on this list, and Chichester doesn’t, I feel, get enough credit for his often-fantastic Daredevil work. Really, I consider the two stories to be spiritual companion pieces, and in my head I tend to link them together. Matt’s take-down of the Kingpin is glorious, the cameos are excellent (I love Matt’s interactions with Nick Fury) and the moral iffiness and bittersweetness of the victory feels just right. I would require every Daredevil fan to read this story if I had the power to do that sort of thing. 

    Argh, there is no Stan Lee on this list, no Karl Kesel, no Marv Wolfman, no Bendis, no Brubaker, no Nocenti, no O’Neil, none of the mini-series or prose novels… see, I’m terrible at this. 

[takaraphoenix]

So, @kimmycup​ tagged me in this game. Let’s do this. Alternately titled:

Let me rant about the difference in receiving feedback on FFN vs AO3

Because I am really getting lost in the math behind “most popular” fic. And it’s most definitely more than just “reaching a different audience” when the feedback for one and the same fic differs between over 1k comments on one site vs not even reaching 100 comments on another site.

Author Name: Takara_Phoenix

Fandoms You Write For: Okay so let‘s only involve the ones I am still actively involved with, not the ones that are like... eight years old and I haven’t thought of them once, yeah? That’d be: Percy Jackson, Shadowhunters, Marvel, Rise of the Guardians/How to Train Your Dragon, Detective Conan/Magic Kaito, Vampire Academy, Jungle Book, DC Comics/the Arrowverse, Descendants

Where You Post: AO3 and FFN, but occasionally also on tumblr - when it’s prompts or drabbles

Most Popular One-Shot: Depends on where you ask. And what you define as popular. Personally, the only value I see are in comments - kudos are literally just the press of one button, they mean nothing, and hits aren’t an indicator of much either considering it counts as a hit even when you opt out after a paragraph.

I’ve only had my AO3 for five years now, meaning that the fics on FFN still had four more years to simmer on there and gather attention, I suppose. Meaning, a fic posted for the first time obviously gets more attention than a four years later mass repost on another site.

On AO3, the oneshit with most comment threads would be How to Court the Prettiest Omega Ever in Five Years or Less, my first PJO ABOverse fic, featuring Nicercy. Which, you know, is only 37 comments on there. Seriously I genuinely blame the existence of the kudo function for the overall lackluster comment-response on AO3 because “press one button vs actually writing words”... but that’s a different conversation to be had. (I mean, seriously, in comparison, this fic has 51 comments on FFN... and it is by far not the one with most comments I have over there).

The clear winner if you look at FFN is Something Went Wrong, my first Minotaur/Percy smut fest with a whooping 116 comments. And yes. Positive. Genuinely did not expect that when after weeks of debating, I decided to post this story. *chuckles* (Again, for comparison, this fic got a total of 8 comments on AO3... eight... the difference there is staggering... Which, I’d like to tag on that, on top of the kudo-nonsense, the fact that AO3 displays total amount of comments to the readers and not comment threads is also misleading and I don’t think it helps, because I think you’re more inclined if you see it’s only 8 comment-threads in total on a fic you like vs it showing you 16 comments as the total comment-count.)

Most Popular Multi-Chapter Story: THIS IS TOO HARD TO ANSWER. I’d have to consult my chart, but that hasn’t been updated in ages. Because overall amount of comments means little if you don’t also take into account the amount of chapters - 50 comments on a oneshot are a lot, 50 comments on a 5 chapter fic, not so much, and 50 comments on a 50 chapter is frustrating to receive.

Okay, let me go full nerd on this one. Y’all know I love charts. There was a time where I was interested enough in finding this out that I had a chart going of all my multiple chapter fics. With a collumn on how many chapters the story had at that point in time, how many total comments on AO3, how many total comments on FFN and what, by combining those two numbers and dividing them through the chapter-count, was the average amount of comments per chapter.

However, that chart had last been updated on December 31st 2016. There’s been a lot of influx, lot of new stories and other stories gaining/losing popularity, so when I now say Meet the di Angelos with a 2016 average of 57,25 comments/chapter, that is completely exclusing ten fics I wrote since then.

Damn now I really wanna update the charts...

Also if you can’t tell by now how much actual feedback and comments mean to me, I genuinely don’t know how else to convey it... xD”

If you go by total comment-count - which, again, is misleading because you gotta keep the chapter-count in mind - it’d be Chasing Fireflies on FFN with 1749 comments (on 102 chapters. And, again, for comparison, 88 comment-threads on AO3. 88 vs 1749 is insane) and Percy and the Ghost King of Summers High on AO3 with 749 comments (on 50 chapters. On FFN that’s actually on 990 comments. Far smaller difference here compared to other stories).

Though I dunno, if you measure popular by fanart received, Summers High comes in with five, while my Chasingverse is in with 6... and multiple fanfictions written for it.

Favorite Story You Wrote: Favorite to write, or favorite to reread? There’s a difference there. I’m insanely proud of Chasing Fireflies and the plot and world I created there, the character development. I... don’t really reread it it’s over 500k long I don’t have that time.

Currently, I am really loving The Primal Instinct, it is sooo much fun to write, I get to put basically all my favorite headcanons in there, I’ll get to write Aline and Helen more and Jace’s interactions with others, it features both my favorite OT3s at once. (And it is faaar from my most popular one. Just, feel like mentioning this because my numbers-obsession may read as only writing for comments, which I don’t, I mainly write for myself. The comments are just... very, very nice treats to receive. Also, I love numbers and charts and were curious to see if there is a kind of trend there in what does receive most attention sooo...)

Story You Were Nervous to Post: Uuuh every new thing. Every time I step outta my comfort zone. Trying out a new pairing for the first time. Venturing into a new fandom for the first time. Experimenting with a new kink and wondering if this would be too much. Literally every single time, still.

How Do You Choose Your Titles: On a whim. I suck at titles. Mostly I try to force alliterations because I am a sucker for alliterations, but otherwise I do try to go with “as it says on the tin”, or I try a pun/being clever. Aside from my Triton/Percy fics. Every single fic I’ve written for them is named after a song from Disney’s The Little Mermaid franchise and I have yet to run out of songtitles to use for fics and hey, by then they’ll probably have included a new song in the live-action remake so there’s that! :D

Do You Outline: Depends. Oneshots? No. I just write those. Multiple-chapter fics? ...Depends. xD

If I have a clear vision for where it’s going to go, I do tend to divide into chapters and make myself small notes on what goes into said chapters. Mostly, it’s just a rambled “and x happens and then y” at the end though and then I see how I can make it fit into chapters.

Complete: 795 stories on AO3! Damn, I’ve been busy.

In-Progress: As of right now, 4. Because this week features my Ace Awareness 7-parter, though technically we’re right now down to 3 multi-chapter fics because the next one is only due to be released and join the rotation!

Coming Soon/Not Yet Started: Well, that is two entirely different things now.

Coming Soon:

Shadowhunters, Asmodeus/Jace, “The Royal Consort of Edom” oneshot on the 23rd

Shadowhunters, Magnus/Alec/Jace, “Nesting 101″ oneshot on my birthday this Saturday

Percy Jackson, Nico/Percy, “Something Borrowed, Something Green” oneshot on the 30th

Shadowhunters, Magnus/Jace, “Dancing with the Monsters in the Night” an out-side-of-schedule oneshot for Halloween

And I do think that that is what constitutes “soon”.

Not Yet Started:

HTTYD/RotG, Hiccup/Jack, “The Origin of the Blue Hoodie”, planned for November 27th

Shadowhunters, Magnus/Jace, “Set-Up by the Guard-Cats”, planned for December 4th

Descendants/PJO, Nico/Percy, Ben/Carlos, Uma/Audrey, “Demigod Defenders of Auradon”, planned for December 11th

A-and that is as far as I have planned my schedule ahead. Those three are the only fics on my personal schedule that I haven’t started working on yet. I don’t like to plan ahead too much, because then you just completely lose interest in the story by the time you get around to actually writing it.

Do You Accept Prompts: Prompts, not so much. Requests, yeah. For one, prompts always seem so demanding, while requests are more polite - and also more structured. Prompts are always like “here have one quick trope thrown at your head” and like... I do have a well-enough planned-out schedule with more than enough fics of my own set, I don’t need to try and turn one random prompt into an actual story. But if someone has a specific request, a pairing and an actual plot, that they really wanna see, I do always hear them out, I may not always like the pitch and thus not accept them all, but on the overall I do accept requests.

More inclined to accept birthday requests than random requests, because random requests would be put into the rotation of my schedule and, well come on that shouldn’t be a surprise, they tend to be pushed off then in favor of fic ideas I came up with myself because there’s nearly always more enthusiasm about writing an idea that you came up with yourself than the idea of someone else. Whereas birthday requests have a set date that doesn’t disturb my schedule and I am a big softie who has a weakness for getting gifts myself so I do like to do something nice for someone so they get something special for their birthday.

Upcoming Story You Are Most Excited to Write: Most excited to write? Well, that’d be the Descendant/PJO crossover atm, because that is something very new and shiny and I do love shiny, new things to experiment on. But also The Prince of Pluto, my next multiple-chapter fic that I have already started writing.

Tagging: Whoever wants to do it! <3

[dyketectivecomics]

Now when I say this eventual fraken-post is gonna be LONG. I mean it

Bc I mean there’s so much to considering when reviewing right? And I wanna be sure I’m getting as much answered as possible the First Time Around

Writing style, pacing, is the dialogue realistic or nah? Does it distract from the plot or is it too plot heavy to begin with? Are the characters developing in an entertaining way or do they grow stagnant? does cast rotation actually keep things Fresh? Are guest appearances and crossover events a help or a hinderance? If the run changed hands, did it get worse or improve for it?

That kinda leads to the art then, and first of all is THAT pleasing enough to the eye or is it a distraction? Is it exploitative as comics so often are towards women? Does it have flow? Are the styles depicted suited to the era it was published/era it’s trying to emulate? Action vs gore- too much? Not enough? Are the scenes static or dynamic? Color, lighting, shading, does it create the appropriate level of DRAMA??

How does one run compare with another? SHOULD they be compared? When does doing something Different or using a new line-up, cause a team to not feel Quite The Same? If/when powers or characters or what-have-you are changed, is it for the better or does it make the run seem like less?

And all of these questions are MEANINGLESS if I don’t follow them up with WHY.

And that’s all just off the Top of my head. And yeah I’m not gonna be answering those questions Every Single Time either but... it’s always a good place to start for me at least 🤷🏽

[pi-cat000]

Author meme!

Tagged by @arthurtristankingsmen  hey! Thank you. You seem like a pretty cool person yourself :) (Sorry I’m not very interactive. I’m a bit of a digital hermit XD)

.

Author Name: pi-cat000 on Tumblr, sagartolen of Ao3, also starcat000 on fanfic.net (dead account, go there if u like poorly edited hetalia fanfics).

Fandoms You Write For: Whatever catches my fancy so I've rotated through several now. Currently, its Mystery Skulls Animated.

Where You Post:  I enjoy posting on Tumblr the most. I post on Ao3 if I'm feeling especially motivated.

Most Popular One-Shot: Most poplar on Ao3 would be Summoned (HP/Gravity Falls crossover). Also the MSA: Hellbent aftermath ficlet was surprisingly popular, I guess people really like whump. 

Most Popular Multi-Chapter Story:  I dunno…hard to tell…On Ao3 it's most likely America (Hetalia/Avengers crossover. I should really update that at some point). My most popular on Tumblr is probably the MSA time-travel idea in terms of staying power. 

Favourite Story You Wrote: Currently, I'm enjoying Winged-Arthur AU way too much. So that's my favourite.

Story You Were Nervous to Post: …I get sort of nervous posting in general. I guess Take Two because people seem to like it so much and it’s my least planned fic. 

How Do You Choose Your Titles:  As descriptive and to the point as possible.

Do You Outline: There is more outline than fic.

Complete: … That's the dream.

In-Progress: Everything that isn't a one-shot/on hiatus/dead.

Coming Soon: msa time travel idea part 32 (50% complete. It’s a Vivi Pov). Winged-Arthur part 12 (10% complete).  Take -Two part 12 (Dragging due to writer's block. Hopefully will be done within the next month or so).

Do You Accept Prompts: Not really.

But I do write a lot of stuff inspired by other people's stuff so if you see a msa post or want fanfiction for an artwork/post @me and I'll add it to my potential fic list, usually tagged with writing prompt if it's not saved to my ever-growing drafts folder. (I use these to help get rid of writer's block/ when I'm in the mood to write but not sure what to write/ For one-shots).

Even if I don't post it, I still use them as practice. Also, it would let me know whether you’re okay with it, because I always worry about accidentally offending people when I post stuff based on other people's work.

Upcoming Story You Are Most Excited to Write: I'm working on a MSA: necromancy au, which I'm loving, but I'm prioritizing updates for my active fics so it'll take a while to make its way online.

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Tagging: Off the top of my head and haven’t noticed being tagged yet,  @hecallsmehischild , @purplepencilshades . literally spent the last hour reading through answers to these so I'm keen to read more XD (If you’re in the mood to answer that is). 

Also @threewaysdivided hello again! I'm curious :) (if you have the time) 

[rose-of-pollux]

MFU crossover(ish) blurb

Continuation of last week’s piece

Written for today’s short affair prompt at Section VII.

Summary: In which Napoleon, Illya, and the revived Pharaoh Akhmenrah have to sneak into THRUSH HQ to retrieve his stolen artifacts.

Ft. Ahkmenrah from Night at the Museum because I figured out how to have him out and about in 1965 without ruining NatM continuity (preserving continuity means, however, none of the other exhibits can be a part of this, sadly).

Very light slash/slash implied.

Not cross-posting this because this will be expanded in the future.

Napoleon and Illya, still trying to figure out they had come to follow an apparent revived Pharaoh, found themselves at a bit of a loss as the young man cast aside the rest of the mummy wrappings, revealing traditional ancient Egyptian garb and regalia. This was going to be difficult to explain, even in New York City.  Searching the warehouse provided nothing except workers’ uniforms, which Napoleon stole the pants off of.

“Let him borrow your turtleneck,” Napoleon suggested.  “With that and these pants, he’ll at least look like he belongs in the 20th century.”

“…You have a bizarre optimism about this whole thing,” Illya intoned, handing over the sweater to Ahkmenrah.

“It’s all we’ve got,” Napoleon pointed out.

The young Pharaoh cast a semi-disdainful look at the sweater, but reluctantly put it on; he knew it wasn’t their fault—these two meant well, and they would have had no way of knowing that wool was considered impure to his people…  Perhaps it could grow on him.

At any rate, his upper regalia was obscured by the sweater, and they managed to avoid any second glances.

“Which way do we go from here?” the young king asked.

“THRUSH has a haberdashery shop as their front; they’ll have brought the stolen items there,” Napoleon said.  “Depending on who’s on rotation, we might be able to just walk on in—but we have to be careful on how we present ourselves.”

A quick glance showed him unfamiliar faces—grunts who were not likely to recognize them right away. Satisfied, Napoleon led Illya and Akhmenrah inside.

“Can I help you gentlemen?” a man asked, glancing at the three of them.

“Ah, yes…” Napoleon said. “We’d like to get a hat fitted for our… son.”

Neither Illya nor Akhmenrah betrayed any surprise to this announcement.

“We are preparing him for a job interview,” Illya intoned.

“Yes, and I wish to make them both proud,” Ahkmenrah said, sincerely.

The THRUSH grunt stared at them.  They were so conspicuous, they simply couldn’t be U.N.C.L.E.-affiliated; surely U.N.C.L.E. would never be that obvious!

“…Fittings are in the back,” the man said at last, deciding that, if they were U.N.C.L.E., they could be the problem of whoever was back there.

The trio headed to the back, but quickly darted away towards the loading dock, which was, mercifully, unguarded—no doubt, the THRUSHies that Akhmenrah had scared off at the warehouse were trying to explain how they came back with barely anything after the scope of their haul had been reported to them prior.

“If they brought the artifacts they stole, they’d be here somewhere—ready and waiting to be driven off to a buyer, if they can find them,” Napoleon said.

“That crate,” Akhmenrah said, pointing to the brown wooden box.  “It looks just the ones from that place where they had taken me…”

Napoleon gave Illya a look.

“I’m so proud of our boy; aren’t you?”

Illya rolled his eyes, but grabbed a crowbar to open the crate.  Sure enough, the artifacts that THRUSH had managed to abscond with—not that many, given the rush to escape—were nestled in packing material.  Akhmenrah picked up a crook and flail and looked at them fondly for a moment before turning to the two agents.

“What now?” he asked.

“Well,” Napoleon sighed, looking into the crate.  “There doesn’t seem to be too much here, and whatever’s here seems to be pretty portable; maybe we can conceal them and slip out the front door.”

Illya gave him a look.

“Just like that?” he asked. “You really think THRUSH isn’t going to stop us from accomplishing this?”

“Well, let’s take everything into consideration,” Napoleon said.  “We had THRUSH’s biggest museum heist stopped by a mummy coming back to life, we snuck said mummy into THRUSH’s headquarters wearing your turtleneck and a random pair of work pants and passed him off as our son, and we found THRUSH’s loading dock abandoned, I assume, on account of those museum thieves trying to explain their failure.  I’m just continuing with riding this wave of luck for however long it lasts.”

“…Normally, I would suggest otherwise, but this entire evening has been utterly unbelievable, perhaps I will go along with you on this,” Illya conceded.

“As shall I,” Ahkmenrah said.  “The both of you have been incredible in the light of something that you would, naturally, find unbelievable, and whether or not this works, know that you have my eternal gratitude.  It is an honor to be your son for this night.”

Despite himself, Illya did manage a smile along with Napoleon’s as they both nodded.

“Well, let’s try one last gamble, shall we?” Napoleon asked, distributing the stolen artifacts. “And if this does end up working, then I’m taking tomorrow off and spending it in Atlantic City.”

[maiji]

Some thoughts on the new YYH OVAs

Lots of spoilers if you've never read the manga, slightly fewer spoilers if you have, but I talk about differences between the two so if you don't wanna know before you see it yourself SPOILER

The following is mostly observations on technical and visual storytelling things I find interesting. 

Voice acting. (I did amateur voice acting as a kid but I didn’t keep that up and obviously I’m super NOT a pro, so apologies if some of the following technical terminology use is not quite right.) Chiba Shigeru (Kuwabara) and Hiyama Nobuyuki (Hiei) are pretty consistent with their original voices from over two decades ago, which is pretty amazing in and of itself. Ogata Megumi (Kurama) and Sasaki Nozumu (Yusuke) have both drifted somewhat more noticeably for me.

In Ogata Megumi’s case, she's gotten so much more experience since her original breakout role, and is even more skilled at hitting and working through the tonal range/vocal register for a male character. This made it extra entertaining listening to TWO SHOTS since this is supposed to be a younger version of Kurama lol.

Sasaki Nozomu's voice seems to have changed a bit in the last decade or so. I hadn't been paying much attention to seiyuu stuff for a long time but I first really noticed a few years back when J Stars Victory VS came out (one of the Shounen Jump crossover fighting games) and I was watching trailers with Yusuke in them and was aurally thrown off. He had a pretty distinct voice with an unusual timbre that made me able to recognize him in almost anything I heard him in to the point where watching a Rurouni Kenshin OVA or hearing Cloud Strife yelling and grunting in Ehrgeiz made me go HEY THAT'S SASAKI NOZOMUUUUU!!!111. But I can't do it with his current take; it’s different. Or maybe I'm just old and out of touch now. lmao

Transitions and changes. 25 years later, animation technology has of course evolved hahaha. One thing I really noticed was how much more animation of the background it felt like there was compared to the original series, especially full-on rotations like when Kurama detects Hiei’s presence, or when Yatsude actually appears.

I'm fascinated by how things are adapted for different media and how the animators fill in the gaps between panels and sequences - I just love seeing what they come up with that didn’t exist in the original. So I was much more interested in Noruka Soruka than TWO SHOTS, the latter of which has already been tackled in other versions before. But all that said, and maybe this was a result of my expectations - I was actually pretty pleasantly surprised at the level of new tweaks they DID bring to the table in TWO SHOTS, and in some ways maybe more so than Noruka Soruka. I thought TWO SHOTS tackled adaptation challenges/changes exceptionally well. I also liked their decision to drop a less critical sequence (Maya's arrival at Yatsude’s) and give more focus to Kurama and Hiei's coordination during their fight VS Yatsude. And I really liked the use of colour! The contrast between the warm sunset palettes in Kurama’s “everyday” world/school life and the cold palette of the warehouse, for example. I found it really nicely executed. 

I had a lot of fun noting keyframes based on the manga, particularly parts that are flipped compared to the original panels. Decisions in comics paneling are generally based around how the artist wants to guide the eye for reading (e.g., characters facing towards the direction the reader is reading, like right to left in Japanese, help create forward momentum, while characters facing the the opposite way help to create mental pauses or slow the action down). It was interesting to note when the orientation changes in the anime, since animators are technically not constrained in the same way by that kind of composition consideration (albeit they still have others).

Other changes are often made to accommodate, or simply exist because of, the fact that animation has additional variables of sound and motion, and often things get exaggerated. For example, Kurama says something out loud instead of it being a thought in his mind as text on the panel; his reaction to something seems more overt because not only are we looking at his facial expression and a speech bubble going "Huh!" or whatever, we see the jolt of his head, the actual movement of his mouth, and hear the force in the startled exclamation, etc. I always find it very interesting to compare the directing with the additional factors now available. In some cases I still prefer the manga, perhaps because I tend to like subtle (boring...hard to explain... lol) things. For example, the intro with the guys wandering into Yatsude’s lair - I preferred the manga version where it cuts out as a straight on shot instead of the OVA where the camera has the motion of something zooming towards them from an angle that accelerates at the end. For me personally the former created a starker horror mood.

But I have to say what MOST impressed me about TWO SHOTS was probably Yatsude. I thought they did a fantastic job translating his design and fleshing out this character’s motion/movement quirks and attacks for full animation and giving him a really solid presence and weight.

As mentioned when Noruka Soruka was first announced, I was most curious how they would handle the ending since it actually concludes in the next chapter and was adapted for the anime's actual ending. And they... did it in possibly the most straightforward way possible. Which for some reason I didn't think was what they would do since I thought it would be too abrupt. Hahaha.

Some frivolous things that amused me:

Seeing Yusuke's bedhead rendered in anime yeahhh!

Seeing and hearing Yusuke talking to Enki on the phone while the latter is getting Salonpas applied lmao

Watching the takeover of the guards with the timer. Mainly the part where Yusuke and Kuwabara land on the guards after coming out of the Jigentou dimension cut lmao

Hearing the interpretation of what the parrot grass sounds like lmao

Seeing big Puu with ears. (Togashi forgot about Puu's ears or maybe consciously changed Puu's design or SOMETHING in nearly all the panels throughout the end of the story.)

The additional sequences in the evacuation scenes. The Easter eggs of Kuwabara's dad and another alien Hiei made me laugh. Especially because I’M PRETTY SURE THIS IS THE ALTA BUILDING

SEE 

(also while trying get this streetview Google maps tried to give me directions to this building from Canada lmao) 

 Also this part:

Me: “Who’s that dude?”

Me: “OH YeAH IT’S YUSUKE’S BODY.”

Me: “For god’s sakes Keiko can carry him herself AND run out of both a house on fire and an exploding stadium.”

Last but not least, Hiei using Kokuryuha made me laugh. This doesn't happen in the manga, but I understand the need since it's considered his signature move. I just found it really funny because it's technically such an OVERWHELMINGLY DESTRUCTIVE MOVE saved for only the utmost of opponents. At that proximity it probably would have immolated not only all the enemies but also all of the Spirit World people they were trying to save. So it was kind of like watching someone go "man there are a lot of annoying mosquitoes in this room" and then whipping out a flamethrower to get rid of them lmao

[eerythingisshaka]

Wakanda Got Y’all Pt. 4

[Black Panther x Insecure Crossover]

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3

Word Count: 2.8K

A/N:  I know I said this would be the last chapter buuuuut....stay tuned for more!

Molly grips the edge of the counter her sink rests in as she takes a deep breath.  She tries to concentrate on the patterns in her bathroom walls as Erik does his work between her legs.

“How you feelin?”  He asks, looking up at her with a slight smirk.

Molly bites her lip, thinking about how she couldn’t believe she happening.  “It’s good, so far.”

Erik nods.  “Bet.  Lift that other leg up a bit.  I ain’t tryna miss nothin, you know?”

He taps her inner thigh with the back of his hand until she got the message, spreading herself further.

“You ever do this before?”  Molly asked nervously.

Erik bobs his head here and there.  “Ehhh, only one time I remember a female being really down for it, but everyone else is like, offended and shit.”

Molly exhales in disbelief, “Aww, for real?  Tsk, this saves me some wrist strain.  It’s nice to be offered, cuz I definitely wasn’t askin, who would?  Just don’t do too much, being an Edward Scissorhands and shit.”

Erik flexed his dimples as he licked his lips in concentration of her center.  He had already put in most of the work already, he just wanted to get to her outer lips a little.

Taking the razor in one hand, he places one finger against her outer labia for a flatter surface area, dragging the blade along her skin with the grain.  The scratchy sound of the razor taking down the stubble is the soundtrack to the room as Molly holds her breath awaiting him to finish.  She wanted to stroke his locs, but figured that would mess up his flow.  He wipes the razor off, repeating the process until she was clean.  

Erik nods, surveying his work with pride.  “There’s more than one way to skin a cat, but I think this is my favorite.”

Molly looks down for herself, feeling her freshly shaved exterior.  “Yeahhh, look at that?  You ever thought about doing this professionally?”

Erik stands in front of Molly, doing his shrug with a silly face.  “I don’t think I have.  But when I look into it, you can write my recommendation, in detail.”

Their shared laughter slowly faded into blank expressions as Molly felt herself heat with anxiety.  She studied Erik’s eyes dilating, plush lips just inches from hers, she wasn’t quite sure how to proceed.

Erik licks his lips. “You wanna do somethin else, now?” his voice saturated with testosterone fueled bass.

Molly stares at him, eyes wide, swallowing to keep her voice steady.  “Uh, I think you wanted to watch somethin on the TV….right?”

Erik looks down Molly’s body before returning to her face.  “If that’s it, you may wanna bring that leg down again.”

Molly curses under her breath as she pulls her dress back down, crossing her ankles.  

Erik chuckles, “You actin shy NOW is too damn funny.  That’s cool though, I’m bout to head out.”

Molly looks after him heading out her bathroom door.  “Wha-what about a nightcap?  My Netflix list is really thick, if you still wanna chill!”  She gets up to go after him.

Erik picks his jacket off her couch walking for her front door.  “Nah, I ain’t really been into what’s available anyway.”

As Erik turns back to her once more, Molly rubs her arm, wondering how to leave their conversation.  “Um, well, thanks for the shape up?”

Erik flashed his golds, lookin at the floor, “Yeah, thanks for trusting me with a razor after a drink.”

Molly stands there until she squints at him suspiciously.  “And that’s really gonna be it?  My pussy was on full display, and you ain’t tryin shit?”

Erik cocks his head to the side. “You tryna see my dick to call it even?”

Molly wheezes with embarrassment.  “Whaaaaa? Who said that? Don’t try me, ol boy!”

Erik steps to Molly, lookin straight down in her face, “You don’t act like you ready to try a damn thing, witcha shy actin ass,”  Erik says, practically growling.

Molly, gulps again.  Soon as Erik closes in on her, she is a puddle.  “I just don’t know you for real, or what to expect, you know?  It’s-”

Erik shakes his head, “See, you already thinkin too much bout it.  I’m here, you here.  I’m cool, you fine as hell...and I know you think the same.”

Molly kisses her teeth, “Nigga, don’t flatter yourself.”

ERik raises an eyebrow, “I could see it for myself.  The towel was necessary back there-”

Molly pops him in his arm, hurting herself more than him.  “Whatever, boy!  Go on then, I’m good.”

“You good?”

Molly nods.

Erik leans his head down hovering over her mouth.  They look in each other’s eyes for what seemed like an eternity, before Molly closes the gap.  Slowly they sucked on each other’s lips, like ripened fruit.  Molly caught herself leaning into a little further than she consciously meant to, before Erik pulls back.

“Maybe you ain’t so shy.  We’ll see though.  Call me when you need another appointment, Moll.”

Molly closes the door after him, leaning on the doorframe, completely hot and bothered.  

----

“And that’s all that happened?”  Issa asks her incredulously over a stack of chicken and waffles.

Molly shrugs, pickin at her food, “Girl, that was it.  My snatch was all there for him to do what he wanted, but all he did was help a sistah out.”

“Well I wish a nigga would offer me some salon care if I needed to clear some brush.  That oughta be a requirement.”

Molly laughs, “Could you imagine niggas going to a trade school to learn that because that’s what needs to be done to get pussy?”

“Shit, they do that for cars, clothes, and shit.  Get some skills that are useful for once, save a bitch a dollar.”

“Right?  So….. I don’t know.  He told me to call him if I need a touch up.”  Molly says.

Issa looks at Molly suspiciously, “Now, did he really say that, cuz he startin to sound kinda….” her voice trails off as she wiggles her hand side to side.

Molly screws her face up, “No, dang!  It’s a euphemism, no doubt.  But, I don’t know….”

Issa shrugs, “I know you not gettin cold feet after he has literally played with ya pussy already.  Somethin backwards about that.”

Molly waves her hands, “I know!! It just seemed too intimate to do that and NOT have sex.  I ain’t ready to be wifin niggas up or nuthin.”

“Girl, I’m sure he playin you as hard as you playin him, so don’t think too much.  Just call him up cuz I know you hate clingy dudes, so make your plans.”

Molly pulls out her phone side eyeing Issa.  “Pssh, whatever, miss know-it-all.  Swear you know somebody life.”  Molly grumbles under her breath.  As she texts Erik, she asks Issa, “What about T’Challa though?  When’s your movie date?”

“Umm, supposed to be tomorrow.  And it’s not a date, it’s just...an outing between colleagues to blow off steam.”

Molly scoffs putting down her phone.  “Is that what we callin it these days?  Is that why you asked me about the vaginal rejuvenation buy one get one free promo on Groupon?”

Issa rolls her eyes.  “Female hygiene/reproductive health is important.”

“Bullshit, you gettin ya walls waxed for a slip and slide.”  Molly quips.

“Ok!  I don’t even know what he is down for.  He from the motherland and everything, he might be saving himself.”

Molly pauses, pressing her fist to her mouth.  “It is the biggest misconception that these foreign fools out here all high and mighty, chaste.  Sure there’s some, but TRUST men are men, across all borders.  Food and women:  serve it up, they eatin.”

Issa talks out the side of her mouth.  “Everyone ‘cept you apparently….”

“Aight you can pay your own meal if you wanna talk.”

“Nooo!  I love you!  You’re so great!  Pussy is bomb, sure he gon nom!”  Issa sings beggingly.

---

The evening of the associate outing with T’Challa was less than an hour away, and Issa took her place at the mirror.  Looking at her fiercest rival, herself, she catches a rhythm in her head and start bobbing, feelin herself.

Yo, I been peeped that you really feelin me.

So the next step oughta come quite  naturally.

You can make ya move, but remember I’m the driver.

Don’t want a minute man, don’t even think of gettin tired.

Movie popcorn too high priced, it’s really wack

So how about you try making this nani ya snack?

New name alert, you can her goldfish

Make this pussy smile back, dip in my well and make a wish--

Issa sighs heavily, “Why you so damn horny?”  she touches up her eyebrows as her phone goes off.  T’Challa texts her saying he is on the way to the theatre.  Issa confirms, saying she is too.  She spends another fifteen minutes touching up her face and taking pictures for the ‘gram before heading out in her car.  

Issa bops to her Frank Ocean, getting good vibes and feeling completely full and ready for this night.  It was really starting to feel like a stress reliever.

Suddenly a bump hits her tire.  Issa stills herself as her car rolls violently and rickety down the street.  The rhythmic plop of her tire with every rotation signaled she just made herself a flat tire.

“Shit, shit, nooo!”  Issa curses out loud as she pulled over to the first lear space she could find on the side of the road.  Getting out she begrudgingly surveyed the damage: completely flat.

“Fuck!  Why me!”  Issa yelled to the sky as she clopped over to lean on her car in frustration.  Alone in a cute outfit with brokedown transportation at night wasn’t the best situation for her to be in so she pulls her phone out to call T’Challa and cancel first.

He picks up on the first ring.  “Hello, Ms. Issa.  Are you close?”

Issa picks at the hem of her shorts.  “No, I gotta give you a raincheck, I’m sorry.”

T’Challa sighs disappointed.  “Ahh, did you have other plans then?”

Issa double checks her surroundings.  “I wish I did right now, but no I’m not trying to skip out, my car just gave up on me.”

“Oh, do you need a ride?”  T’Challa asks with a little more perkiness.

Issa pauses.  “Uh, I guess, if you don’t mind?  I don’t want to put you out since you’re already there.”

“Oh no!  It is ok.  Please, just let me know where you are.”  T’Challa says.

She can hear his keys jingling as she tells him her address, going back in her car to wait.

T’Challa’s car pulls up behind hers.  He gets out leaning on her driver’s side.  “That’s a nasty flat.”

Issa sighs, “I needed new tires anyway.  I was waiting for a bonus at work, but why not now, right?”

T’Challa looks at her empathetically, stroking his chin.  “Life has a funny way of doing things like that.”

Issa nods, looking at the time on her phone, groaning with disappointment.  “The movie already started.  We won’t get another showing for another two hours.  I knew I should’ve let you go on home instead of getting me, now that we can’t make the show.”

T’Challa wears a long face.  “I was really looking forward to that show about….the dog?”

Issa chuckles, “Yeeaah, that meets the robot and they save Wall Street?”

T’Challa smiles, the apples of his cheeks invading his facial structure.  “Ahh, an Oscar worthy film, indeed.   Shame to miss…..well at least let me take you home then.”  T’Challa opens her car door as he guides her to his.

“Thank you again, I really appreciate it.”  The ride to her house was quiet.  Issa wasn’t sure what to say since the night was presumably over, but it could also not be over.  She was a grown woman, without a curfew or a parent at home, who could tell her what not to do.  But she certainly didn’t feel comfortable enough to have him burn his gas to turn around and go somewhere else now.  Issa sneaks a look over a T’Challa concentrated on the road.  His arm outstretched, toned and shapely with not so humble muscles.  His long, knuckly hands grip the wheel, subtly massaging the rim.  Issa checks her phone to pass the time, coming up with a game plan as he pulls up to her spot.

He drops his hands to his lap, looking over at Issa.  “Well here we are, Ms. Issa.  If you want to go get your car in the morning, let me know.  I don’t mind at all helping out.  Do you have a spare?”

Issa shakes her head, “No...responsibility isn’t my strongest characteristic.”

T’Challa smirks, “I don’t see you that way at all.  You have many talents as I have seen, and you are a great help to me and the team.”

Issa cheeses, “Well, if you say so, I’ll take it!”

T’Challa leans his head on the headrest.  “It’s true, you are a smart woman.   That’s how I know we can be a success.  It’s not lost on me the cultural differences between me and the community here, but with you as a liason, I can make sure no one is offended or lost in my accent.”

Issa chuckles, “It’s all good.  That lady and her kids were really just looking for a fight.  People aren’t always at their best when accepting help so expect some struggle, but I hear you, no problem at all to bridge that gap.  As for the accent, keep that.  It’s a great ice breaker.”

“You think so?”

“Oh yeah.  People perk up to it automatically to listen closer, so if you have meaningful shit to say, it’ll land quicker.  Plus it’s sexy as…..”  Issa’s voice fades as she catches herself saying too much.

T’Challa tucks his lips and nods, looking ahead as they sit for a while in silence.  Issa cursed herself for getting too forward but also, it had to be said; or at least she convinced herself of that.  How else could she try to lay claim to him without a little flirting?  Issa wasn’t ready to call it a night, so she worked up some inner hood nerve.

“So, you wanna come up or nah?!”  Issa asked with a little too much bass in her voice.

T’Challa looked at her half like she was crazy but slowly smiled.  “You would like some company?”

Issa clears her throat nodding, “I mean, sure.  I’m reclaiming my time!  Just cuz we can’t see a new movie doesn’t mean we can’t hang out.  If you want to, you got the green light….”  Issa’s voice trails off as she studies T’Challa’s reaction.

He takes his keys out of the ignition.  “That sounds like a wonderful idea.”

Issa and T’Challa make their way up to her place, going in she turns on the light.  “Sorry for the mess.  I stay unprepared for company.”

T’Challa stands surveying the surroundings.  “Oh, it’s alright.  I’m just content to be invited.”

Issa picks some clothes off of the couch and cups from the table.  “Please, sit.  Do you drink?”

T’Challa sits, picking up a pillow, studying its design.  “Occasionally; I wouldn’t mind a glass.  Who is this?”

Issa pulls out a bottle looking back at him staring at the pillow.  “Oh that’s Frank Ocean.  Have you heard him?”

T’Challa shakes his head.  “No, but you must think highly of him.”

Issa screws her face up as she pours some cheap moscato.  “I mean, he cool.  I just really liked the pillow.”

T’Challa reads her reaction.  “You don’t have to be embarrassed, it’s cute.”

Issa nods and whispers a cheer to herself at being called cute as she walks the glasses over to him.  “Yeah, I’m a big music head.  Nicki Minaj is around here somewhere but she may be on time out anyway.  Gettin all loud and outta pocket.”  

T’Challa laughs into his glass as he sips.  “I see.  Well, it’s nice to see someone laying down the law in their home.”

Issa gulps her drink as his vice dropped to a sexy octave.  “Mhm!  That’s me!  All business round here.”

T’Challa leans forward putting his drink down.  “Well we aren’t on the clock now, thank goodness.  This week was very crazy.”

“The craziest!  But that should be a sign that it’s on the way for the better now.”

T’Challa turns to Issa, looking at her a little too long.  “Wise words from an attractive woman.”

Issa was internally screaming at this blunt response, but laughs it off to keep the mood light.  “Well the lighting in here is deceptive sometime, and I had a pimple this morning, so...”  

“No joke, don’t sell yourself short.”  T’Challa says as he leans towards Issa, who was not ready, but became completely ready to try him on.  They embrace slowly.  His lips plush against hers, his hands remain at a gentlemanly section of her leg as her heart beats out of her chest.  The associate outing just got a little personal.

Part 5

RagTag

@hbicprettyprincess

@kimianostalgia

@afraiddreamingandloving

@chaneajoyyy

@myfavemarvelfanfics

@nys30

@blkintrovert

@allhailnjadaka

@cutewylie 

Other Works

King Kil’mawalls  

T’akia

Some Weeks Are Better Than Others

Commencement Day

Song of Stevens

The Coffee Prince

N’Jadaka’s Helpful Hands

If I Could Do It All Again

#SundaySweat

Signs of Rain

World’s Best Baba

[sabotajuu-a]

SHIP   INFO   !

TAGGED BY   :     nobody because my grubby little fingers stole it from @nomither so ty bb <3 TAGGING   :     everybody with at least one working kidney RULES   :     answer the following for your muse(s) so people know how shipping works on your blog.   REPOST, don’t reblog. Who’s ready for me to go into detail when nobody fucking asked me to???

WHAT’S   YOUR   OTP   FAVORITE   SHIPS   FOR   YOUR   MUSE   ?

                    I won’t lie, I actually abhor the term OTP because it feels like it’s closing off any potential shipping plots with other muses and characters.   To answer this question, I’ll be highlighting my favored dynamics, because I’m a lawless heathen and I spit on your rules.

                    Let’s get killers over with first.   Trapper and Jake has been a long-standing ship of mine, and it’s for obvious reasons.   They likely have a long-standing feud of Trapper and Saboteur, and I do love hate-ships.   Another favorite dynamic of mine is Doctor and Jake, just because of the machinery Jake can fuck with outside of game mechanics.   He may despise Lery’s and all that comes with it, but I do enjoy the thought of him weaponizing some of that medical and electrical equipment against Carter, and it’s entirely Guud_Night’s fault that I even got into Doctor and that one fucking suit of his.   Jake... loves a man in uniform, and a man in a suit, and Carter just so happens to check both marks.   We don’t talk about the secret cursed ship, thanks.   I already told you about my semi-secret guilty pleasure, so hush.

                    As for survivors, and get ready because this is a complete shocker     (   he lied   ),     but I ship Jake with literally any man that is outlandish, loud, confident, cocky, and / or doesn’t seem to know the meaning of silence or personal space.   So you’re looking at Ace, David, and Ash for those particular choices.   Jeff is in the middle ground.   So why those particular three?   Jake absolutely abhors them on first meeting.   Their personality types do not mesh well with his own, though he warms up to Ace the quickest, and Ash... let’s just say he still considers introducing that man’s jaw to the floor even after he warms up to Ash.   David would probably be that middle-ground because he isn’t as bad as Ash, but he’s not easy to get along with like Ace either.

WHAT   ARE   YOU   WILLING   TO   RP   WHEN   IT   COMES   TO   SHIPS   ?

                    Literally anything, so long as it’s not the obvious incest, pedophilia, non-con brigade.   I’m also not willing to write ships with Dwight, Meg, Claudette, or Nea because Jake sees them as family, whether or not there is a pre-established dynamic or not.   This is non-negotiable since it is my personal headcanon.   With that aside, I’m down for pretty much anything so long as my writing partner is comfortable with the content.   I only state that specifically, despite it being an obvious requirement to ship, because I am someone who enjoys exploring some DARK SHIT, but can understand most of that content isn’t everyone’s cup of tea.   Like full on gore and things like that.   I just want people to have some damn fun, y’know?

HOW   LARGE   DOES   THE   AGE   GAP   HAVE   TO   BE   TO   MAKE   YOU   UNCOMFORTABLE   ?

                    I don’t quite have many age gap issues, aside from Jake being with anyone under 23.   It’s a personal comfort, and Jake would much prefer people around his own age or older.   As for older, I guess the age cap would be... 60s?   I really don’t have much of an issue with older characters because it’s two legal, consenting adults entering a relationship, so... whatever.   Older people need love too.

ARE   YOU   SELECTIVE   WITH   SHIPPING   ?

                    LMAO fuck no.   I’m always down to clown with suffering because that’s what you’re going to get from me.   Suffering and random soft shit.   I literally love seeing everyone’s characterizations of their muse, and I want to explore all of them.   Though I will, at times, have ship exclusives, but the requirements for that to happen are strenuous and I don’t like to limit myself to shipping with 1 person when i can ship with 9283429 people.

HOW   FAR   DO   STEAMY   MOMENTS   GO   BEFORE   THEY’RE   CONSIDERED   NSFW   ?

                    Honestly, intercourse itself.   Or, depending on the content, when things dabble into the gorier aspects.   Like I said, I’m fine with writing some fucked up shit, so I’ll likely start putting that SFW to NSFW threshold pretty low to avoid complications with other people.   I hope that’s blunt enough.

WHAT   ARE   OTHER   MUSES   YOU   SHIP   YOUR   MUSE   WITH   ?

                    Out of the fandom, you are free to drop kick your way into my DMs and hit me with that good shit, because wow I love to explore every aspect of potential shipping dynamics.

                    As for Dead by Daylight, I personally want to explore ships with Frank, Joey, Quentin, Tapp, Adam, and Jeff.   I know I mentioned Jeff in that one question above, but I’m going to state him here too since I did say he was more of a middle-man option.   I’m still a little ??? on the dynamic itself.

DOES   ONE   HAVE   TO   ASK   TO   SHIP   WITH   YOU   ?

                    I mean... how else are you going to ship with me?   I don’t like people forcing their ships onto me, and I’d prefer screaming at you about our goblins rather than it being entirely one-sided.   I promise you that 99% of the time, just outright kicking me in the head and yelling     I WANT OUR BOYS TO KISS     will get me to agree and discuss the ship further.

HOW   OFTEN   DO   YOU   LIKE   TO   SHIP   ?

                    I honestly do love shipping, but I don’t need to ship to enjoy writing a character.   It’s definitely something that can easily be explored, but it isn’t mandatory.   I get that Jake isn’t the easiest person to ship with anyway considering he literally hates everyone except, like, four people, and is a feral little creature.   But sincerely, I do like to ship whenever the fuck I feel like it.

ARE   YOU   MULTISHIP   ?

                    Hell yeah.   I remember the days singleship was the in, and I honestly felt so restrained.   Give me all of your boys and let me love them all, thanks.

ARE   YOU   SHIP   OBSESSED   OR   SHIP   MORE-OR-LESS   ?

                    I wouldn’t say I’m either.   I basically just ship as chemistry blossoms and discussions are made, so long as the other person is down to clown.   So for this question, I’m a big ol’ middle finger that’s been spray painted by the funky little jester that jingles miserably beneath the dirt.

WHAT   IS   YOUR   CURRENT   FAVOURITE   SHIP   IN   YOUR   CURRENT   FANDOM   ?

                       OH, GEE SCOOB WHERE DO I START?   JAKE PARK AND GROWING UP WITH A DECENT FATHER.   JAKE PARK AND HAPPINESS.   JAKE PARK AND SELF-HELP.   JAKE PARK AND LITERALLY ANY POSITIVE OPTION THAT I’VE CONVENIENTLY FORGOTTEN ABOUT WHEN WRITING HIS CHARACTER.   If you’re looking for a serious answer, you’re looking in the wrong place.   I don’t have a favorite ship, so eat rocks.

HOW   DOES   ONE   SHIP   WITH   YOU   ?

                    LITERALLY JUST HIT ME WITH IT.   Hit me as hard as you probably smash your Dead Hard key in a stressful situation, only for it to not go off, so you rotate furiously on the ground until the killer picks you up.   Just fucking message me and water my crops with your ship, because there is a 99% chance that I either ship it already myself, or that we can work things out.   If I can make a viable crossover relationship between a League of Legends champion and a SMITE God with a friend, or an Evil Within 2 character and a TF2 merc with a friend, we can make this work too, probably.

[stardustpug]

Title: Learning to Love the Cold Chapter Title: Mohawks Chapter: 12/? Fandom: snk/aot Pairing: jeanmarco Summary: He can hear his blood pump in his ears. It’s almost like the world is moving in slow motion. LAST AO3 | FF.NET

At around 11:00 AM, Jean wakes up to his phone buzzing. He stares at it for a moment, not lifting his head from the pillow and confused about what’s happening before finally reaching out and slowly wrapping his hand around it. He pulls it to himself, yawning and letting his eyes adjust to the light of the screen.

Snap from Marco.

He slides open the notification and waits for snapchat to load. Tapping on the snap, it opens to show a video Marco had sent him. First was Marco’s feet, tapping against each other in his skates, and then the camera switched to show Marco’s freckled face. He smiles and gave the camera a thumbs up, and then the snap ended. Jean chuckled, and then he realized he needed to get out of bed and head straight for the TV. Marco’s group would be beginning warm up shortly. He quickly took a selfie giving Marco a thumbs up and adding a “good luck! love u nerd” caption to send to Marco.

Popping out of bed -- a little too quickly, causing a small coughing fit -- he tore off his sweatpants and begins searching his messy bedroom for a clean pair of pants and a shirt. After the typical sniff test on a few shirts, he slides one on and quickly pulls on the nearest pair of jeans.

Bolting down the stairs, he heads straight for the TV. “Jean!” he hears his mother yell from the kitchen, but he doesn’t stop. Instead, he catapults himself over the couch, landing swiftly on it and reaches for the remote. He coughs a few more times as he turns on the TV and flips to the channel featuring all of the Olympic coverage and pounds on his chest. He feels something swat his shoulder. Glancing behind himself, his mother is standing there, one hand on her hip and the other holding a stirring spoon.

“What?” he asks innocently, turning his attention back to the TV.

“You were just put on a new medication. What do you think you’re doing, running around the house like a mad man?” she asks, exasperated.

“Marco’s almost on,” he says, setting the remote down on the coffee table. “Can’t miss it.”

“That’s no reason to risk a trip to the hospital,” she sighs. “And look -- he’s not even on the ice yet. You easily could have walked.”

Jean grunts, neither in agreement or disagreement. He supposes going to the hospital would’ve sucked ass, since he would definitely miss Marco skating. On the other hand, running a few feet shouldn’t kill him (he hopes).

He hears his mother sigh again behind him, and then footsteps retreating back into the kitchen. The announcer on the TV introduces the final group of skaters to warm up for the men’s short, which happens to include Marco. Jean pushes himself to the edge of his seat, watching his boyfriend take the ice.

He glides smoothly across, doing a lap forward to warm up. Jean can see from the look on Marco’s face that he’s concentrating hard to push through each element while he has the chance. Jean catches himself holding his breath and slowly exhales. No matter how stressed he is, he really can’t afford to do that right now. Blacking out now could be the worst possible time yet.

The announcer calls the warm up, and the skaters leave the ice. Jean watches as Marco’s coach hands him his guards and obviously is giving him some advice. With a very serious look on his face, Marco nods and places the guards onto his blades. He looks like he’s in the zone.

Jean knows the anticipation sitting low in his stomach must be nothing compared to what Marco’s feeling, but there’s no stopping the nerves causing him to sweat despite not moving from his rigid position in the middle of the couch. The first skater seems to skate a relatively clean program, but Jean can’t really focus much. How could anyone do this? He had never felt so stressed out in his life, and he wasn’t even doing anything.

The crowd roars to life and Marco swallows. It’s time.

His coach leads him back to the rink and he watches the first skater leave the ice and quickly hug his coach. Marco had watched the program in the so called ‘waiting room’, and this guy looked pretty solid. Being one of the last skaters of the event, Marco knows he has to give it his all. He has to put on a memorable performance and stick out if he wants a chance at standing on the podium by the end of the games.

Hanji’s fingers grip his shoulder, giving him a tight squeeze. Glancing behind himself and at her, she flashes a determined smile. The previous skater is headed for the kiss and cry, so Marco quickly slips off his guards and hands them to Hanji. He steps onto the ice and does a few slaloms to warm his legs back up. Checking the giant screen above his head, the skater who went before him still hasn’t received his scores. He decides to do one last triple flip before it’s really his turn.

The jump has a solid, clean landing, but Marco can’t shake the nervous energy pumping through his veins.

And then -- “The final score for the short program comes to 86.04, putting him in--”

Marco tunes out the noise around him, heading straight to Hanji on the boards.

“Okay, Marco,” she says, her voice calm as she cups his hands in hers, “I need you to go out there and do what you always do. This competition isn’t any different from the others. Have fun with it, this is a once in a lifetime opportunity and you’ll regret it if you don’t smile through the whole thing. You know yourself, once the music starts, the nerves will all melt away.”

With a nod and one final hand squeeze, Marco turns towards the ice again. His heart beating all too quickly in his throat, he prepares himself.

“And now--” Marco strokes forwards, one arm swooping up and out “--representing the United States of America--” his other arm mimics the motion and pushes once more into a one foot glide “--Marco Bodt!” The crowd roars to life once again, cheers coming from every direction. Marco’s arms fall to his side and he takes a deep breath, heading towards his starting spot. If he can skate well here, he stands a chance of going on the the free skating event and, if he’s good enough, a spot on the podium. He comes to a stop, his eyes scanning over the crowd. He moves his feet, one toepick in the ice. He raises one arm into the air, almost like it’s outstretched to receive a high five. And with that, his eyes lingering on a particularly large freckle on the back if his hand, his music starts.

With a quick backwards pivot around, he speeds off from the middle of the rink. These few crossovers need to gain him plenty of speed -- then comes the footwork -- and then his first jump of the program. He needs to land this if he wants a chance at that gold medal. One more crossover, step forward, push into a three turn, toepick --

He’s in the air. His arms tightly press against his chest, legs crossing, he uses whatever force he has to get this flip to rotate four times. Come on, he thinks, feeling himself starting to check out. His blade touches down on the ice, and he feels a burst of energy replace the nerves that have been pumping through his body. A clean quad at the Olympics? Marco lets out a laugh and fists pumps, listing to the crowd’s insane reaction to his success.

Fists raised in the air, Marco’s face adorns an ear to ear smile. He goes quickly through his bowing motions, shaking with adrenaline, and waves. As he skates towards the boards, where Hanji is absolutely beaming at him, he leans down to grab one of the stuffed animals that had been thrown to him. It was a puppy plushie, and he couldn’t help but smile more, if that was possible. He knew Jean was back in Michigan, probably watching him pick up this dog, but it could still be a cute gift, right?

Stepping off the ice, Hanji hands him his guard once again. Marco puts half of his effort into slipping them on and the other half into hugging Hanji. He had never felt an adrenaline rush quite like this before and he knew he didn’t want it to go away anytime soon. Who knew he could fall in love with skating again? And at the Olympics, no less?

Marco and Hanji are shuffled towards the kiss and cry. Both with face splitting grins, they take a seat. Marco waves at the camera and blows a few kisses and making a heart with his hands. “This was for all of you guys! Thanks so much for your support mom and dad! And shout out to Jean! Wish you were here!”

He leans back, turning towards Hanji, who has her hand resting on his back. She’s still smiling, but she’s nervously eyeing the large screen situated above the ice, which currently shows the two of them sitting in the kiss and cry. A small sliver of the screen turns blue and suddenly Marco feels his heart drop into his stomach. Scores begin to appear on the screen. He holds his breath, clutching the seat. His score is high, but will it be enough? Does he have any deductions?

“The final score for Marco Bodt is 100.38 after the short program. This puts him in first place, and is his season’s best. It also sets a new world record.”

Marco can feel himself moving, but he doesn’t really know what’s happening. He’s standing, jumping, hugging Hanji. The crowd is louder than its been all night. He can hear his blood pump in his ears. It’s almost like the world is moving in slow motion.

After the remaining three skaters, Marco finished in second place behind Yuzuru Hanyu, who finished with a score of 101.45. He’s fully aware that he needs to rest tonight and not celebrate his high score, since the men’s long is tomorrow. Tugging his skates from his feet, he reaches into his bag to see tons of messages flooding onto his phone. Of course, the only ones he really cares about are from Jean. He has about fifty snaps from his, which start with a selfie captioned “I’m about to send you all of my reactions to your program so I don’t pee myself”. He laughs, tapping through them. The final one is incredibly blurry, but he can make out the image is of Jean jumping up off the couch. It’s captioned “WORLD RECORD HELL YEAH”.

Marco sends him a selfie in return with the caption, “need a nap”.

I hope this turned out okay? Describing a program is incredibly difficult! The following chapter will include the long program, and from there we have some interesting events not skating related that are coming. This chapter was a little on the shorter side, but hopefully you guys still liked it! Let me know what you think!

[rueitae]

Hey happy early birthday! I'm a recent follower to your blog but I love your plance works a lot. So I decided to send in a prompt because I love this idea but I'm not very good a writing so here it is. Prompt: November 3rd plance woth ice skates. It doesn't have to be a crossover I just wanted to use my birthday for this

Crossover with Meet Cute and Plance with ice skates!

Thank you for the birthday wishes! I did research to sneak in a reference to actually fulfill the crossover requirements. I also tried to do a bit of research on figure skating in general, so I hope I’m not too off.

~~~~~

Pidge tugged on the spandex near her chest, examining the emerald green sequence in the full body mirror. Her mouth moved from side to side and her nose scrunched up as she scrutinized every detail of her new outfit.

She turned to view herself from the side. The bodice itself was amazingly comfortable, something she rarely felt with even her jeans and sweatshirt these days. It didn’t have near as much sparkle as professional skaters, but Pidge was still pleased to have beading in the shape of leaves. A short asymmetrical skirt of darker green was sewed tightly around the waist. Pidge turned so that the shorter end of the skirt faced the mirror. She took a moment to adjust her ponytail, also angled on the same side.

She adjusted her sleeves last. Beads flowed down her arms like vines and per the design intent. Solid forest green cloth made a sort of cufflinks for her wrists, a single golden bead a little larger than the rest sat facing outwards.

Pidge turned to face the mirror fully. She braced her hands on her hips and nodded. The outfit had her approval.

She unlocked the door behind her and exited the dressing room.

Lance lifted his head as she approached. He uncrossed his legs and sat up from the chair in the waiting area. He smiled brightly as he took her in. “You look beautiful, if I do say so myself,” he preened.

“It is pretty cute,” Pidge admitted. A side grin of her own in place. She twirled around once, enjoying the feeling of the skirt. “It’s comfortable and not too flashy. Although you really didn’t have to add so many beads.”

“I wanted to,” Lance insisted. He stood and strode over to her, looking over the outfit itself with an expert eye. “Something doesn’t look right, one sec.” He unhooked his leather bracelet and stretched it out. He knelt down on one kneed and used the measuring tool to double check his work. He frowned. “The skirt is a little too long for what you wanted. I can trim it if you want,” he told Pidge as he looked up at her.

Pidge gulped. She probably shouldn’t have blushed, but seeing him down on one knee as he was gave her an out of body experience. They’d not been dating that long, but they’d been friends in grade school. She could see it in his eyes, that sparkle every time he’d see her enter a room, like he had been waiting his whole life for this moment. They’d talked about marriage intermittently, but she knew this wasn’t it.

Lance was a romantic. It was Pidge’s only certainty that when he did get around to a proposal, it would be one for Hollywood. Today was not that day. Whatever their future held it was going to be after Pidge finished her masters.

Which brought them to where they were now. She was two weeks out. Her paper was finished, but she needed practice for the demonstration that would go with her defense. It wasn’t anything groundbreaking or new, but it would prove she comprehensively knew what she was talking about.

“How much longer is it?” Pidge asked.

“A half inch,” Lance told her as he stood up. “Sorry, I know you were really specific with the measurements.”

“That little won’t make a difference, the extra weight is well within the margin of error. Or, at least it shouldn’t,” she corrected. “Let me get out on the ice and test it.”

“Let me get mine too,” Lance said. “I’ll join you. We haven’t skated together in like, forever.”

Pidge raised an eyebrow and gave him an exasperated grin. “We were at the park last week.”

“Still feels like forever,” he said. He took the opportunity to steal a quick kiss on her cheek.

“You’re such a flirt,” she chastised, not at all mean spirited.

“Only for you, Pidge. Only for you.”

~~~~~

It didn’t matter how many times she stepped onto the ice. Each time she first picked up speed and soared across the rink was freeing. Pidge allowed herself to glide, testing for any bumps in the surface. Not finding any, she landed herself a single toe loop to further warm herself up.

Weaving back and forth, she skated back towards the entry and propped herself up against the boards. Lance had just finished lacing up and hopped onto the ice with her.

“It took you long enough,” Pidge teased, until she looked down and her eyes widened. “Why are you wearing hockey skates?”

Lance skated around her and leaned over the boards. He made a point to look completely displeased. “Left them at home I guess. I now owe Keith a favor so I could use his skates.”

Pidge laughed despite it all. “Is that really all that terrible to owe Keith a favor?”

“Yes,” Lance said dryly. “Junior Worlds is coming up soon. He’s probably going to make me take care of his crazy cat again.” He rested his chin in the palm of his hand, having every intent to sulk this through.

Pidge couldn’t help but laugh. “Red likes you just fine. I think you two just have different expectations of each other.” She leaned in, wrapping him in a hug. “You’re out here now, might as well enjoy it.”

She felt Lance relax completely at her contact. His scowl turned quickly into a soft smile. “I wouldn’t miss a chance to skate with you while you’re all dressed up and gorgeous like this.”

Pidge blushed and found herself letting a chuckle loose. “You are the cheesiest person I know.” She took his hands with hers and led him out onto the ice. “Outfit felt pretty good in the warm up, but I want to make sure it works for the whole routine. Spot me?”

“Of course. Go for it,” he said, letting their hands separate and letting her take center stage.

Pidge began to build up speed, not concerned that Lance was still on the ice with her. He knew her routine nearly as well as she did and he’d skate out of the way if need be.

The idea was simple in thought. Nothing she was doing hadn’t been done before. She was going over the physics of figure skating; the conservation of momentum for spinning and moment of inertia for jumps. This was all based on her body though. All the science was her weight, her height, her speed, her routine. It would just go to prove that she could do the math and have the credentials to coach others.

Ultimately what she wanted was to be able to do was design the equipment. There was always a way to make things better, and that was exactly what she was going to do.

She and Lance made a good team that way. She would streamline and he would make it beautiful.

Pidge turned to skate backwards, looking behind her to see where she was going. She was by no means a professional, but she was still good at this. Gliding at her preferred angle, she lifted herself into a double salchow, landing with ease.

She didn’t bother with the artistry as she skated down the long side of the rink. It had never been her thing, only having focused on it when she was much younger and much newer to the sport.

Clapping interrupted her. She was used to a few dozen hands, but Lance’s were the only ones today so it was a bit jarring.

“Smile!” Lance shouted at her. “Put a little flair to it! Show ‘em what you can do!”

Well, Pidge thought, he did make the costume.

She began to move her arms more liberally. An extra gesture here, and a motion there. Brining her hands in and out from her chest at various intervals had always seemed to work when she was younger.

“Happy?” she asked with a smirk as she passed him on her way to the next jump.

“Perfect!” he replied. The double toe loop landed just right.

One more jump, a double axel. Well, two really, she’d follow it up with a single. The routine was as easy as breathing by this point. Nothing strenuous except knowing she’d be grilled after doing this for a panel of her professors.

She took her time skating around the rink, not really wanting the speed to end.

Pidge nearly fell when she felt Lance skate up to her from behind. “Mind if I join?” he asked. Even concentrating on her movements, Pidge could tell he was in a mischievous mood.

“What are you up to?” she questioned suspiciously.

“I got too caught up in watching you I couldn’t wait to participate. If I launch you, do you think you could still do the double?”

It had been high school the last time the two of them had done a jump in pairs. Pidge made sure her face showed all the concern she felt about it. “That was a long time ago. Maybe? I couldn’t guarantee a double, but a single I could probably still do.”

Lance lit up. “Good! That’s all! Let me know when you’re ready.”

Pidge rolled her eyes. She was happy to indulge him though. His hands felt right around her waist and even though it had been a long time, she trusted him completely not to let her fall.

“One loop around the rink. I’ll give the nod,” Pidge said.

He kissed her temple. “Thanks, Pidge,” he said softly.

“Thank me after I don’t fall,” she quipped.

They traveled together as close as they could, falling easily and comfortably into the old habit. Pidge savored the time. Cuddling on the couch was one thing, but trusting one another this close with blades on their feet was a different story.

And she did trust him. With everything.

Reaching their full loop, Pidge turned to face Lance, letting him steer them around the corners. “Ready when you are,” she told him.

“Okay, here we go then,” Lance said. “One, two, three!” On the count he lifted Pidge into the air and she twisted her body to give the the two full rotations. Lance helped, twisting her body with his hands.

Pidge got her rotations. She’d grown stronger since high school though, and had perfected her technique even more. Lance had gotten stronger too. Combined with the angular momentum, she had really enough time for a triple, something she was entirely unprepared for. With a yelp, she landed square on her bum.

Lance came to her side right away, his face bordering on panic. “Pidge are you alright? I’m so sorry.”

“I’m fine, I’m fine,” she insisted. She took his offered hand to get up. “Just a sore butt,” she said as she rubbed it, wincing only slightly. “It’ll pass in a minute.”

Lance sighed in visible relief. “Good, I was worried a blade might have gotten your arm with the fall.”

Pidge smiled to disarm his worries. “No, I’m definitely fine. This actually helps add to my report. My body has changed since high school. I can’t do jumps the same way I did back then.”

“Good! Because you’ll need to be healthy to enjoy this.”

He shoved two small pieces of paper in Pidge’s face. She took them and she gaped at what was printed on them. “Is…is this what it really says it is?”

Lance nodded, smile getting bigger with pride. “If you’re reading them as tickets to this years Grand Prix, then yes, it is.”

Pidge held the tickets to the biggest professional figure skating competition close to her chest. “Lance…this is amazing! You didn’t have to!”

“I wanted to,” he insisted. “You’ve been working really hard and once you finish school you’re going to need a break. So we’re going to the Grand Prix for starters.”

Pidge engulfed him in the biggest hug she could muster. “Thanks Lance, this is the best. I can’t wait until we can go.” She let go after a moment and slid away, crossing her arms. “But first I need to present to the panel, so I have to practice - without interruption,” she said pointedly.

“Even if the interruptions are for very important matters?” Lance said, pushing himself forward and gracefully twirling around so that he could hug her from behind, kissing the top of her head.

“You’ve already given me your surprise, what else could you possibly have in store?”

Lance continued to hold in her in a one handed hug, while his other hand soon produced a small black box. “I know you’re not much for traditions, but I wanted to make sure I beat you to the punch.”

Pidge knew what was in the box, but she opened in anyway. “You sneak!” she angrily. “You can’t butter me up with those tickets and then give me this!”

Lance kissed her cheek. “Is that a yes?” he asked, laughter prevalent in his voice.

“Of course it’s a yes,” she confirmed, a bit more exasperated. Pidge knew she should be more emotional for this moment, but Lance always had a way of subverting expectations. “You know I can’t wear the stupid thing yet, it’ll throw me off.”

He sighed dramatically. “Then I guess I’ll have to wear it until you’re ready for it. On my pinky finger if I have to.”

Perhaps it had been the long day, the exercise, or just the significance of the moment, because so many major things were happening in her life right now, but Pidge burst out laughing. She leaned up against Lance, who in turn starting to giggle and laugh himself. The both of them couldn’t stop, falling down to the ice in each other’s embrace.

The answer must be all of the above.

[writewithurheart]

A Second Chance: A Dramatic Entrance

Chicago Med/Arrow Crossover 

Author’s Note: It has been a LONG time coming, but the next chapter’s finally up! And we’re finally up to the first episode of Chicago Med! 

Chapter 12

He really has no idea why he thought Chicago would be any better than Starling City. He hadn’t been in town for more than 48 hours and he’s already been in a train crash. Its like he attracted trouble, courted it even. From his childhood to his residency to his fellowship as a Trauma Surgeon, it seems he can’t go somewhere calm.

Or doesn’t want to. He can’t deny that he’s a thrill seeker.

Although showing up to his first day of work in the back of an ambulance, covered in blood wasn’t in his plan. He knew Chicago wouldn’t be serene but still…a train crash? Did these events follow him around? 

Read on AO3, FF.net, or below the cut:

He didn’t mean to traumatize the med student. He just had a job to do and do fast. So he had stepped in. Now, sitting in a quiet room, faced with the gash on his arm, he felt a little bad about it. Just a little. She had to get used to the pace of the ER. He didn’t pull punches. That wasn’t who he was, not since the earthquake. Leaving Starling had changed him. He wouldn’t coddle interns. It would hurt them in the long run.

Connor sighs and pulls off his shirt so he can get a better look at the cut on his bicep. Compared to his other injuries, this is nothing, a scratch. He grabs himself a suture kit and disinfects the wound. It’s long and deep enough that he’s going to have to stitch it, even if it would be a bitch to do himself. The rest of the doctors are busy saving lives and there’s no way he’s going to ask an intern to assist.

“Doctor Rhodes, I thought you could use these…”

He glances back to see the spare scrubs being carried in by one of the nurses. He offers her a barely there smile and focuses back on his arm. “Thank you.”

“How’d that happen?”

“Must have snagged it on the wreckage.” He would shrug if he wasn’t working on his own arm. He’d laugh at the ridiculousness of it all. Chicago reminds him so much of Starling, so much so that the difference between him now and him five years ago is jarring. Before everything, before the Undertaking, before Tommy Merlyn died, he had been in love with Laurel Lance, had been fragile and…safe. Now, getting hurt in wreckage was common place, stitching himself up was a fact of life. No wonder Oliver had gotten stranded on an island and become a vigilante.

The nurse frowns at him, voice adopting a teasing tone: “You know we do have a couple of doctors around here. I could hook you up.”

Connor smiles and glances at her nametag. April. Oh, he likes her. Humor in the face of odd doctors. That’s good. Cause he’s independent and quirky. He likes people that can work with that. “I don’t need one. I could use a nurse though. Come be my other hand?”

She nods. He feels bad testing out his new back story with her. It’s technically not a lie, that he grew up in Chicago. He lived here as much as he ever lived in Starling City.  They joke about the situation, tossing words back and forth in friendly banter as he closes up the wound. She’s efficient as they talk, clearly capable. If he was still Tommy, he’d be hitting on her already, but he’s not. He’s Connor Rhodes. He doesn’t hit on everything that moves. He appreciates that she can be a nurse and just that.

…

Whispers follow him around all day. He supposes that dramatic entrance where he told off the Senior Resident What’s-his-face, didn’t help with flying under the radar. Nor the fact that he managed to butt heads with the Chief of Psychiatry, Dr. Charles. Or that he had to display his fluent Spanish when his patient’s girlfriend arrived with only a rudimentary understanding of English.

He does his best to ignore the stares and do his job. That’s why he’s here: to use medicine to save lives.

He had to fight to get Jamie on a ventilator, fight to get a kid with terminal disease treatment of pneumonia. It was one of those things he hadn’t expected to happen his first day. Then again, he was told that the worst part of practicing medicine was patients that wouldn’t listen to reason. Jamie had the right to refuse treatment. It was just frustrating. He’d had to fight Dr. Charles too just to get him to convince the boy to do it.

At least he and Dr. Charles ended up in a good place. Connor’s not sure he’s ever going to be on solid terms with Dr. Halstead. It started off Rocky and got worse. Seems like he wanted to pick a fight, like the fact that Connor had grown up rich had protected him from the world. He would like to throw it back in Halstead’s face, but he bit his tongue. Halstead wasn’t going to break his cover.

The view from the roof though, that was doing wonders for his peace of mind. It’s vaguely self-depricating, standing on the roof staring out at a skyline that reminds him of Starling, or rather what Starling looked like before the Undertaking levelled half the Glades. Oh, he knows it’s a completely Oliver-like thing to do, to stare off into the void and brood. At least he tries to make conversation with people when they approach him.

God, he could use a drink.

Connor takes a deep breath and closes his eyes against the setting sun. He’s had his moment, a break in his hectic first day, now it’s time to get back to work, time to save lives. That is why he became a doctor after all: to save lives.

…

The breather was just when he needed for his luck to turn, apparently. He came back from his break to test results that match his crash victim to Jamie, the college student fighting so hard to live with a terminal illness, the kid who just needs a pair of healthy lungs.

Coming off that high, he comes across the med student from earlier.

She’s hunched over the practice dummy, stabbing in a needle to practice her central line. She’s doing everything right now with her headphones blasting and blocking out the rest of the world. Her hands are steady, the motions sure. He knows first hand that real life ERs are never like that. Feeling a little bad that she’s probably doing this because of what happened earlier, he steps into the room.

“Central line. Can’t tell you how many times I missed before I finally got it.”

“I know how to do it,” she insists without looking over. “I just couldn’t do it in there.”

“It takes practice, that’s all.” And now he sounds like all his teachers, especially Doctor Corbal who insisted that if he spent half as much time practicing as he did flirting, he would be a great doctor one day.

“I’m fine with him.” She finally looks at him. “I never miss.”

“Yeah, he’s the ideal patient.” That’s the thing that’s so hard to understand in med school, that life is messy and hardly ever follows a textbook definition of anything, especially in an ER. “You can’t hurt him and his life’s not hanging in the balance.”

“If this rotation weren’t a requirement, I wouldn’t be here.”

Finally, the truth comes out. He’s oddly proud of himself for getting her to open up. “And where would you be?”

“I’m a lab person.”

Of course. “Pathology?”

“Maybe.”

That’s a yes. It’s adorable how much she believes it. “Yeah, every med student, once they start dealing with patients, thinks they’d do better in pathology. I did.” He’d insisted on it too, for months, right up until the moment he had to apply for residencies.  

She narrows her eyes at him, like she doesn’t believe it. “What made you change your mind?”

Connor shrugs. “I interned in an ER like this one. I saw people come through the door every day, on the verge of death and I saved lives. It’s different, working with your hands. It takes heart. You lose that in the lab.”

She nods slowly, turning back to the practice dummy. “Maybe that wouldn’t be so bad.”

“Just you wait, Doctor…”

“Reese,” she supplies. “Sara. I’m not a doctor yet.”

“You will be,” Connor says with a grin as he walks out of the room. If she can channel that conviction into an ER room, that drive into helping a living, breathing patient. Then she’s going to be just fine. She wants to be good at this.  She just needs to get past that anxiety.

These people are starting to grow on him. Chicago was definitely the right choice.

…

“So, how was your first day?”

Connor laughs at the question as he walks down the dark street. “It was good, Felicity. It started out with a train crash and ended up with a life-saving lung transplant.”

“A train crash? Sounds gruesome?”

“It was rough. Something happened to the track. I was lucky I wasn’t in the car that fell.”

“Please tell me that was just a really bad joke and that you weren’t on the train.”

“This coming from the woman who runs around with vigilantes,” he teases as he slows to a stop outside the bar. Molly’s had been recommended to him by just about everyone in the hospital. It was apparently owned by some firefighters over at 51. “I made a splash when I came in with an ambulance and pissed off the Head Resident, who might also hate me because I grew up rich.”

She laughs. “Well, you haven’t slept with his girlfriend so he can’t hate you too much…you didn’t sleep with his girlfriend, did you?”

“Whoa, Lis! I’m not the one who had a habit of sleeping with taken women. That was my cohort in crime who now dresses up in green leather and shoots arrows in people.” A couple girls walk past and look him over before ducking into the bar with a giggle. He shakes his head. “Besides, I’m just trying to make friends.”

“Tommy, you’ve got like a magical ability to make friends,” Felicity sighs. “I mean, even if you’re Connor now, you’re still you. You attract people like…I don’t know…Frat boys to a toga party? It’s ridiculous. As if your good looks weren’t enough, you can talk to people without accidentally putting your foot in your mouth.”

“Felicity, your babbles are endearing. You literally have Oliver wrapped around your little finger.”

She sighs, a happy noise. “Yeah, I kinda do, don’t I?”

“Yes. You really do,” Connor says with a smile. “It’s nauseating.”

“You’re not even here.” She harrumphs. “How could you possibly know that?”

“John and I talk.” He spots Dr. Charles through the window. “Listen, I am about to go give a potential new friend some good news. Call you later? And then you can tell me about the date Oliver’s going to ask you on.”

“Uh-huh. You and John with your talks. And if Oliver ever does ask me out, you will be the first to know.”

“I’m holding you to it, Smoak. I better be the first call.”

A laugh. “Deal.”

“Call you later, Smoak.”

“Bye, Wizard. Make good life choices.”