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makoredeyes · 5 months ago

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Keep it coming you say? 👀 I saw that tag! I'm ~quite~ bored, so here's a couple questions/whatever they're considered, lol.

Yes, flattery will get me very far here, indeed! To where? I do not know, but whatever, compliments! You deserve them. I'm rather sure my friends are tired of hearing me go on and on about destiny characters, ':)

How's your writing wip's going so far? I'm waiting very (im)patiently for any updates, I've totally not re-read everything forty-two times.. hope their all going well!

A little self indulgence here, but I like to think Andal Brask was the Hunter Vanguard when Osiris and Saint-14 were in, because.. come on, I'm rather sure the time frame adds up. I like to believe before, because their dynamic just seems really fun to me. Lots of great opportunities. (I partly blame that one fanart sylenth-l made of Andal and Osiris for this, it was really funny). What do you think their dynamic would be like?

What do you think it'd be like if the Iron Lords mysteriously came back alive? 👀 I'm talking, SIVA couldn't actually kill them because their ghosts hid in the light in their bodies, and SIVA only goes after non-organic materials right? Maybe it couldn't work it's way into the light, and as long as their ghost + light are intact, = alive. But *only* after the Warmind managed to get control over SIVA and free their physical bodies from harm? It's a thought I had, influenced by a few fics but I quite like the idea. Just imagine, a ghostless, lightless Osiris receiving word that maybe, they weren't as dead as he thought they were. Or Fel and Timur coming back only to realize what happened to Osiris?? Poor Sagira?? Learning lady Efrideet's alive? 👀 (Is that her name?)

Or perhaps, In this one fic, it's Timur and his special, take over your will little stunt he has, was keeping SIVA at bay, I think that's pretty neat too! So many possibilities! (If you were the one that wrote these, I hope you see this as a compliment cause I am not about to go dig through Ao3 to find them xD)

Either way, it'd be like a modern!au of the iron lords, for them at least, hah (I can just imagine Gheleon having a mental breakdown that their memorial involved fighting one another)

I can't really think of anything, but rest assured I will *probably* be back once I'm dome tormenting my poor boy Tevis

Ahaha yeesss YESSSS I feed me I'm such an attention whore lmao RIP XD. (fr tho bless you ;_; )

I am writing! There are longer gaps between posts rn because I have lots going on in my life, but also, because I am working on many fics at once. I counted the other day I have 26 WIPs but six I am actively working on in concert - three for Housefire that are all directly intermingled plot and timing-wise to the point where I'm not even entirely sure what order I'll be posting them in yet, another chapter for Things Found (I am trying to stay 2 chapters ahead with that to make sure I have a cohesive story for it), and two XXX stand-alone one-shots! I should fish out another teaser for everyone soon. I think it'll be one of the one-shots that makes it out next tbh they're the furthest along. But the naughty stuff is also the slowest to get written bc I yanno...can't write that stuff at work, etc. haha. But I've felt a new wind of motivation lately for writing and am picking away at these projects pretty regularly. <3

I'm going to admit I am not very well-read on the hunter squad in general, BUT iirc I believe Andal was Vanguard during the City Age. He was definitely around as I recall his presence in the comics. The problem with that time is that Osiris was largely absent. This was when the Cult of Osiris was gaining traction, and Osiris' obsession with the Darkness and the Vex was really heating up. He was neglecting his duties to the Vanguard (with Ikora often standing in as proxy for him) and he wasn't really paying attention to anyone else. Like. At all. There was a lot of unhappy tension even with Saint at that time. Andal, by all accounts, was a damn good fella though, and while I think just about everyone nettled Osiris, Andal also stuck up for him where he could. Even if Osiris couldn't appreciate that in the moment I'm sure he would come to later. I look at Osiris and see him as he is now, with some hard lessons learned and some hard losses under his belt, realizing a little too late some of the damn good souls he had in his court, Andal included. All of that said, 100% in a lighter, easier setting, a free-spirit like Andal (and/or Cayde...heaven forbid them both together!) would drive a stuffed shirt like Osiris up an absolute freaking wall with pure comical results, hands down.

(a side note, a brain storm, an insane thought that just poisoned my brain - a sweeter moment hidden from time: Andal's guitar and this gift of song Saint has hinted Osiris has....??????! I'm not melting it's just hot in here, right???)

As for Ironsbane and SIVA... I have INDEED put an awful lot of thought into this. Quite a lot. So much. I have my own ideas on ways to circumvent the disaster, O Reader Mine, but you're going to have to wait a while longer for me to write it. :3 (Housefire is, after all, ultimately, a fixit )

*but no SIVA attacks whatever it is programmed to, organic or not: and Rasputin set it on hundreds of Iron Lords and wiped them all out with the sole exception Efrideet and Saladin with the directives “REPLICATE, ELIMINATE, IMMUNIZE” it was not what SIVA was made to do but he deliberately repurposed it into a weapon. (I could go on for years about Rasputin and his darker epochs, but especially his misappropriation of SIVA lol)

** Your mention of Timur and his spooky skills DID remind me of another fic I need to get back to as well OTL TT_TT I still have requests I took in January I have yet to complete. At this rate it's going to take me all year to get them all done and by then I'll be taking more aahaha whuups.

#ask #destiny 2 #makowrites #headcanons

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redbelles · 7 months ago

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twenty questions for fic writers

tagged by: the wonderful @carry-the-sky 💖

1. how many works do you have on ao3?

2. what's your total ao3 word count?

245,595

3. what fandoms do you write for?

i don't ever really abandon old fandoms, but so far 2024 has been all berserk (nothing posted yet, unforch) and masters of the air

4. top five fics by kudos

like a heartbeat drives you mad

the dreadful need in the devotee

and my body found the wind

stuck in colder weather

all the love you need

5. do you respond to comments?

yes! it may take me a hundred million years, but i appreciate each and every comment i get, and i often go back to them for a little jolt of "hey, people actually like your writing!" motivation when i'm stuck

6. what is the fic you wrote with the angstiest ending?

lmao uh. known angst goblin meg redbelles here, but i honestly didn't have to do much work to the canon endings of robert baratheon (the clouds will form a crown) or judas iscariot (in the violence of our dreams) to make them even more horrifically angsty, so. one of those, probably!

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

i don't tend to go for out and out happy endings—i prefer bittersweet—but i feel like the answer is either the mercy wheel, which fixes dany’s gabarge season eight character arc, or tongue’s talkin’ riddles (sticky sweet), which gives chrissy and eddie a mostly happy future together instead of horrible deaths in deeply cursed hawkins

and! for what it's worth! the chimneys hardly ever fall down is going to end on a happy note! they're just going to have to Suffer a lot to get there! it's fine!

8. do you get hate on fics?

nope

9. do you write smut?

me, currently 3k into a m/m/f threesome scene:

10. craziest crossover:

i enjoy spitballing about crossovers, but i doubt very seriously that i'll ever write one

11. have you ever had a fic stolen?

not that i'm aware of, no

12. have you ever had a fic translated?

i've had offers before, but i've declined every time; they all wanted to host the translations outside of AO3, which is not something i'm comfortable with

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

yep! keep calling me home is a really fun little round robin fic i wrote with three other authors a couple years ago

14. all time favorite ship?

i can't read suddenly.gif

15. what's a wip you want to finish but doubt you ever will?

shUT UP!!!!! I'M GONNA FINISH ALL MY WIPS!!!!!! SHUT UP!!!!! LEAVE ME ALONE!!!!!

16. what are your writing strengths?

imagery, emotion, themes, dialogue

17. what are your writing weaknesses?

plot? never heard of her. also, i feel like i still suck at writing humor

18. thoughts on dialogue in another language?

to crib from a previous answer: unless you speak the language, it gets real dicey real fast. i personally avoid it unless a) it’s a canonical term/phrase, like all the faux-russian bullshit in the grisha trilogy, or b) i can check the grammar/usage with a native speaker or someone who is solidly fluent

19. first fandom you wrote in?

[redacted] way back ages ago on [redacted]

20. favorite fic you've written?

recency bias talking here, but i am so, so, so fond of the chimneys hardly ever fall down; i challenged myself to write the first chapter as one continuous scene (i feel like i sometimes abuse scene breaks to heighten tension), and honestly i think i nailed it. also, this sequence:

Maybe he is drunk. That would make sense. He’s going to wake up and find himself alone at the bottom of a bottle. Back in the cold blue, Fort shot to shit and tumbling from the sky like a wounded bird, trailing fire and screaming as she falls. Maybe he won’t wake up at all— maybe he’s dead in a potato field, a ghost who never made it back in the first place. His heart can’t fucking take it.

like, i'm sorry, but that's brutal! and i am so proud of it!

tagging: @sluttyhenley @littlelindentree @oatflatwhite @meyerlansky @ladywaffles

@charmtion @anthropologicalhands @jacyevans @thatworldinverted @thatgirlnevershutsup

and anyone elso who wants a go ✨

#dash games #writing: best worst hobby

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femboyhorror · 1 year ago

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i've grown tired of this body - fall apart without me body

【A/N: cross-posted from my ao3! if you enjoy this feel free to check out my other works and consider buying me a coffee maybe. :3 this one shot came out of the blue. as you can probably guess by now this is just one big vent one shot that started out just being me wanting to make a fic about trans!dipper dealing with his period while i was having to deal with mine and ended up spiraling into me projecting my own experiences with my parents being awful and transphobic onto sir dippingsauce here and imagining what'd it be like having a found family. tw ahead for some impled/references child abuse of the verbal kind, transphobia from dipper's a+ parents, some semi graphic descriptions of the fun times that come with menstruation and one use of the word queer. (it's not used in the context of bigotry, btw!) big shout out to anyone out there dealing with the red beast, to my fellow cisn't individuals who may deal with it. i hope life is kind to you, that you have some rad people you can turn to comfort or at least get to have some nice snacks during these trying times. 】

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The bus carrying him back to the forests of Oregon rattles and shakes as it makes track across the winding roads. By the second hour he's feeling a decent amount of claustrophobia, his legs wave back and forth with a need to get up and walk and a spring in the seat he was in had popped out and was just scratching at him enough that it made him want to scream.

And yet despite the minor discomforts, a sense of comfort washes over him when he sees the familiar towering pine trees slowly replace the long stretching plains in the window. It was a feeling that he'd sorely missed throughout the last ten months and was never more evident until he saw the green of those trees. By the time the old weathered sign passed by, proudly proclaiming 'Welcome to Gravity Falls', a full smile spreads across his face. One that he didn't need to look to know that his sister shared with him.

They were finally back in Gravity Falls.

They were finally home.

Ignoring the shouted reminder from the bus driver to wait until the bus had fully stopped, the mystery twin duo practically flew out of their seats and rushed off the bus with their suitcases in hand and - in Mabel's case - pet pig at their side. By the bus stop, sporting warm smiles, were their Grunkles Stan and Ford.

"Grunkle Stan, Grunkle Ford!" The twins had greeted them in near unison. The two opened their arms just in time for their niblings to practically tackle them in a big hug tight enough to make a few parts of Stan's back in particular pop courtesy of Mabel.

"Whoa whoa there kids, you tryin' to kill your old man?!" Protested the old con-man, though his own smile betrayed his joy to see the two. Eventually the group hug came to an end and Stan helped the twins put their luggage into the Stanleymobile.

"Welcome back, my boy." These words, spoken to Dipper in a gentle, caring tone, made a wave of emotion swell in his heart and he barely kept himself from crying right then and there as he replied,

"I'm glad to be back."

'My boy' he thinks with pride.

Because that's who he was here. In Gravity Falls he wasn't expected to be the quiet and polite little girl. Instead he was a beloved great nephew. He was a protecting twin brother. He was Dipper Pines and the sense of joy he feels when he thinks this brings some tears of relief to his eyes.

If Ford notices his sudden burst of emotion then he chooses not to comment on it to Dipper's relief, and Stan soon pipes up as they all pile into his old car.

"Alright, I don't know about you guys but I'm hungry enough to eat one of those multi-headed cows. Why don't we go back to the shack so I can make us some…"

"Stancakes?" Mabel guesses with a bright smile.

"That's right! And Mabel's helping me out this time since Ford's still banned from the kitchen."

"For cosmo's sake, Stanley, the last time I burnt anything was months ago!"

"Yeah, and I still have no idea how you managed to set the entire kitchen on fire just by pouring cereal!"

"Oooh, good thing I brought my special rainbow glitter!"

"Pumpkin, that glitter is edible, right?"

Dipper relaxed during the car ride home, comfortably letting himself get lost in the familiar family banter and, at least for the moment, letting himself drift off and forget about all the pain from Piedmont.

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Breakfast back at the Shack was, as expected with the Pines, a lively affair. Mabel, naturally, manages to make her own Stancakes into what Dipper could only describe as a rainbow colored death wish of syrup and sprinkles with perhaps some renments of pancakes in there but he couldn't tell for sure. The four of them conversed about stories from their time apart, from their grunkles tales of their sea-faring adventures to Mabel providing stories from school such as amusing misadventures and some extracurricular activities they had gotten into.

Dipper tried to chime in as well, though he was somewhat distracted by a dull ache that had come up occassionally over the past few days. Radiating from his lower stomach area, it made it hard for Dipper to focus and he could barely manage to eat more than a single pancake despite having not eating anything that morning.

At one point he catches Ford giving him a look of concern but he simply waves him off, mouthing a silent 'I'm fine' to him.

Not long after breakfast was finished the twins took to their old room in the Mystery Shack's attic to unpack as their great uncle's assured them they could handle the dishes on their own.

"Hey, Dipper…?" Mabel's words, spoken in a tone unusually soft for the bubbly girl, break through the silence in the attic. "Don't you think we should tell Stan and Ford what ha-?"

"No." He quickly cuts in, harsher than he meant to and he immediately feels guilty but he doesn't doesn't doesn't want to think about Piedmont yet. "I just… I'm not ready… I just want to be Dipper a little longer…" The last part was barely above a whisper but still cuts through the silent attic like a shotgun blast.

"You are Dipper. To me, and to Ford and Stan. Nothing will ever make then treat you otherwise." The words 'unlike mom and dad' hang in the air, unsaid but understood by both twins. He wants to believe her, wants to trust that he'll always be seen as their great nephew but the echoing words of their parents make him falter.

"I will tell them, just…" He takes a deep, shaky breath. "…just not yet."

A beat passes and he almost expects Mabel to tell him that he should know by now to trust family, to tell him that honesty was the best policy and that he won't have to feel this weight on his chest if he just opened up to them.

"That's alright, just tell them when you're ready." She said instead.

The guilt remains.

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The dawn of what Mabel has dubbed their first official day of summer begins with the dull ache from before now returning as the sharp pain of many needles as well as an unwelcome crimson visitor.

And while Dipper had expected to have to deal with good old shark week after the pseudo-cramps he'd been feeling for the last few days it still never made the day it finally started any less difficult. As if he hadn't had a hard enough time with dysphoria before returning to Gravity Falls the world seemed to have it out for Dipper with a wholly unwanted visitor would add insult to injury.

But, after some extra time cleaning himself in the bathroom, he resolves to push away the pain and stress and makes his way down the creaky stairs of the Shack in a slow and shaky manner…

..and is immediately greeted by the distinct smell of smoke. Confused and maybe a little bit panicked, he follows the scent to the kitchen where he discovers the source; a pan of half charred yet somehow also half raw eggs. Holding the pan was Mabel, unsuccessfully trying to salvage the mess with Stan standing by. By Dipper's guess he was trying to teach Mabel to cook with… mixed results. Smiling at the duo's antics, he takes a seat at the table where he spots his great uncle Ford, nursing a cup of coffee and seemingly entirely unbothered by the disaster that is Stan's cooking lesson.

"Good morning, my boy." He greets Dipper with a kind smile, and the gender euphoria of being called 'my boy' is almost enough to make him forget about his current pain and discomfort. Keyword: almost. Seeming to notice this, Ford furrows his brows in a concerned manner. "Are you feeling quite alright, Dipper? You look pale?"

"Oh, uh, I'm fine, Grunkle Ford, just tired is all…" He lied, forcing himself to pick up and bite into an apple despite how little he wanted to eat just to further prove he was alright. As he robotically chews into the apple Ford continues talking.

"Well, I was going to ask if you wanted to accompany me on a little walk to check on the forests around here, but if you're not feeling well…"

"Nononononono! We can go for a walk!" He quickly cuts in to Ford's owlish surprise. As much as he - in his current state of mild to extreme pain - wanted to spend the day in bed reading, the idea of being alone in the attic felt awful. Even if the cramps would kill him, he really wants to spend more time with his great uncle.

"Alright then, we can go after breakfast if that's alright with you?" Dipper forces his pain away to smile back to Ford.

"Y-yeah! Sounds great, I'll go grab my shoes."

And so Ford watched his great nephew run out of the kitchen, and he frowns at the barely eaten apple as a sense of growing worry settles in his gut.

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The Gravity Falls forests were always a beauty to be able to behold. From the fantastical sorts of creatures and flora that called the woodland their home to even the more mundane sorts of plants and animals that shared the forest with the strange. This morning was no different as the sunlight filtered through the treetops above lit the forest in a soft light that made the whole place feel nothing short of enchanting.

Ford lead the way through the forest, chattering casually about the different points of interest and pointing out some of the newer pieces of intrigue that he thinks his great nephew will enjoy. And as hard as Dipper tries to focus on following and nodding along he can barely concentrate on his great uncle's words through the haze of pain he was drowning in.

After a few minutes of this that feel more like hours, Ford comes to a stop and looks back to Dipper, a frown speaking to deep worry on his face.

"Dipper, are you absolutely sure you're alright? You know you can tell me if you're ever hurt or sick, right?" Dipper had to near bite on the inside of his mouth to keep himself together. The genuine care his great uncle was showing him combined with the guilt he felt at ruining their walk on top of the pain that was still radiating through him made it hard to hold back the tears.

He wants to tell Ford that he was fine, maybe blame it on sleepiness again and keep walking, but a particularly sharp stabbing feeling hits and all he can do is lean pathetically against a nearby tree, trying to breathe through the sudden pain.

"Dipper! You need to tell me what's…" His great uncle's shout of alarm slowly trails off and it wasn't too long until the realization of why fills Dipper with pure shame. Running down his legs were bright red trails of his period blood.

He wants to disappear. He wants nothing more than a spontaneous bottomless pit to form underneath him and take him away right then and there. Unfortunately for him no such pits appear and he can only settle for locking his gaze onto the forest floor. Despite having outgrown the hero worship he held for his great uncle that fateful summer, Ford was still someone he held high respect and admiration for. And now that he's seen Dipper in such an embarrassing position - bleeding on himself in the middle of the woods - he doesn't know if he can ever face him again. He could only imagine the look of disappointment, disgust even.

His thoughts of self-loathing are cut off by a hand laid on his shoulder.

"Dipper, please look at me. I'm not mad at you, I just need you to tell me what's wrong." His great uncle's voice oddly seems to hold none of the disappointment or disgust he had expected. He chances a look up and Ford's expression was not one of frustration but one of a deep concern but also a look of knowing.

"It's… a lot to explain… can we go back to the Shack first?" He curses the way his voice wobbles as he voices this but Ford doesn't seem to mind, only nodding before helping him walk the short way back. No other words are exchanged on the way back and Dipper is quick to duck into the bathroom to clean himself up. A quick shower later and he leaves the bathroom to find a bottle of pain medication left on a nearby table along with a glass of water. A brief smile crosses Dipper's face as he can easily guess who left the items.

Soon enough the four Pines were all brought together in the kitchen as Dipper prepared for another difficult conversation, inwardly praying to a god he didn't believe in for things to go better the second time around.

"…My name wasn't always Dipper…" He slowly began, trying to relax his tense shoulders. "Growing up, I always felt like there was something wrong about me. I hated being called by my birthname, hated being called a girl. My parents would tell me that all girls feel that way, but it was more than that. Eventually I start to realize that I maybe wasn't a girl at all…" He chances a look back up at Stan and Ford to see their reactions. A part of him expected to see judgement but instead the two of them are attentive, waiting for Dipper to continue. Feeling a boost of confidence from this, he speaks again.

"I ended up discovering the term transgender, and right then I felt like things suddenly started to make sense. The way I've been feeling, the way I saw myself… and when my parents told me and Mabel that we were going to be going to visit a new town full of new people for the summer, I realized that was the perfect chance for me to try out being a boy for the first time. And that summer ended up being the first time in my life I felt like I was able to be myself." Just thinking about that first magical summer brought a smile to Dipper's face. He remembers the way his hands shook when he first introduces himself as Dipper. As Mabel's twin brother. Remembers the trials and tribulations he went through the summer, and yet despite it all he truly felt like he'd grown into a proud young man by the end of it all.

"I'm sorry I didn't tell you guys sooner…" He finally says as he finishes his explanation. For a moment, the two older men seem to take this in before Stan speaks up.

"I'm glad you feel safe enough to tell us, kid, although I kinda knew you were trans already."

"Wait, you knew?!" Dipper shouts before he can stop himself. He suddenly starts to panic, wondering if he hadn't really passed as well as he thought he did. Stan quickly puts his hands up and puts his fears to rest as he adds in,

"I mean I was there when you two goobers were born! I'm not a spring chicken, Dipper. I've had my fair share of experiences with the gays and the queers. When you two got off the bus and you were introducing yourself as Mabel's twin brother Dipper, I thought to myself 'As long as the kid's happy, good on him!'"

"The concept of gender is, frankly, one that is much closer to a spectrum than most people realize. There are plenty of dimensions out there where gender is explored much more than here, for example I've been to one dimension where gender was traded with and bartered like a sort of currency!"

"What my nerd brother is trying to say," Stan finally cuts in, knowing Ford was likely to go on a full hour long tangent otherwise. "is that he's happy you felt safe enough to tell the both of us."

"Yes, of course, my boy!" A bright smile is spread across Dipper's face, the acceptance given from both his great uncles filling him with relief.

"See, Dipper? I just knew that our grunkles wouldn't have treated you like mom and dad did." His sister chimes in with her own knowing smile. Ford, however, quickly catches onto what she said.

"What do you mean 'like mom and dad', Mabel? Did your parents not take it well?" His question, although asked with no ill intentions, has the immediate effect of making both of the twin's moods fall. While Dipper shrinks in on himself, Mabel adopts a look of frustration and lets out a huff.

"Mom and dad are poopheads!" Ford and Stan both frown. That certainly didn't sound good. After a moment, Dipper speaks up.

"I… I hadn't told them about the whole 'being transgender' think before going to Gravity Falls. I was still just trying to figure it all out back then. Of course, they catch onto the new name I was using here. Not too long after me and Mabel came back they start questioning me about what was going on. Why I was hiding things from them…" He remembers that day all too well. Of being cornered with questions and not being able to rely on Mabel because she had been out with friends at the time. "I tried to explain to them how much happier I had been bit they wouldn't listen. They kept saying how their 'poor sweet daughter must have been brainwashed' and that 'it's just a phase you'll grow out of'…" Dipper then trailed off, his voice shaking more as he becomes more choked up. Mabel quickly scoots her chair closer, letting her brother lean on her for comfort.

"We hoped that they would end up coming around but they wouldn't even try to understand him. They kept using the wrong name and pronouns for him no matter how much we tried to correct them or ask them not to!" She angrily adds in. "One day they even told him that he should be grateful that he hadn't been thrown out!"

Knowing how unaccepted and uncared for their beloved nephew had been in the last ten months was already deeply troubling for Stan and Ford, but hearing these especially cruel words hit the two far too close to home. The hopes they had that Dipper and Mabel would at least have the caring and safe home that they never got were dashed, and they share a look of regret before turning to look at their niblings.

"Dipper, I… I'm so sorry your parents have been treating you like this. I had no idea."

"You're not going to send us back, are you?" Dipper asks quietly. At their great uncle's looks of confusion, Mabel explains.

"We… kind of didn't tell them we were visiting…" She admits as she diverts her eyes sheepishly.

"They tried to forbid us from coming back this summer, saying how this town 'corrupted me'," Her brother explains with air quotations and an eye roll. "So we both combined our allowances and bought some bus tickets without telling them." There it was.

This was certainly a difficult situation. It was only a matter of time before the twins' parents figured out where they went off too, and once they figured out that they were staying with Stan and Ford they would naturally demand they bring them straight back to California. And trying to keep them away could result in some legal trouble being sent their way.

And yet both Stanley and Stanford, unfortunately, had some personal experiences with being forced to hide who you were. Memories of hiding love letters, of repressing their true selves for fear of their old fashioned father finding out, and they refused to make their poor nephew suffer through the same type of hell. And thankfully, they had a whole town of people who would be willing to help them.

"Well there's no way I'm going to pay to be sending you dorks back, so it looks like you're stuck here." Stan declared gruffly, although it was obvious enough that he wanted his niblings to be at Gravity Falls just as much as the two of them wanted to be there.

"Dipper, in the time I've been back in this dimension I've seen you as nothing less than a brave and strong young man. And if your parents are too blinded by their own narrow-minded beliefs to see that, too, than at least know that you'll always be our amazing grandnephew." By now, Dipper was crying in earnest. Not the tears of frustration or sorrow that he had experienced all too often in Piedmont but tears of pure happiness. Stan and Ford both stand up and go to give their great nephew a hug.

"By the way, Dipper," Ford says after the hug ends. "I forgot to ask but did those pain meds I give you help.

"Oh, honestly I hadn't really thought about my cramps for a while, but now that I think about it they're much better. Thanks." Ford simply smiles.

"Don't mention it, my boy. It's the least I can do."

"If your cramps come back I probably got a heating pad somewhere in this place. Used it whenever my back hurt worse than usual." Stan chimes in.

"I heard there's going to be a cheesy movie marathon starting in a bit! Maybe we can grab some snacks, relax around Stan's chair and watch?" Dipper smiles at his sister's suggestion, feeling his appetite come back now that the worst of his pain was taken care of.

"Sounds good to me."

And so that's how the Pines family found themselves all settled around the living room, Dipper lounging comfortably on Stan's chair and Mabel settled on the floor while Stan and Ford sat leaned against the chair. While Ford and Dipper would take turns in pointing out the inaccuracies of the monster movies, ("Please, a tiny splinter like that would never take out that powerful of a vampire.") Stanley would more often make jokes about the cheesy effects ("Pshh, I could put together taxidermy parts that look more realistic than those werewolves!") and Mabel was happy to just happy to comment on dreamy actors and things she thought were cute. ("Aw, it's too bad that bat had to get shot, it was so adorable!") At one point Stan and Ford playfully argue over who would be able to defeat the most zombies which then devolves into the two throwing popcorn at each other.

And all the while a single thought stays in Dipper's head, bringing a sense of comfort with it: "I'm finally home."

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#gravity falls #hurt dipper pines #dipper pines angst #pines family #dipper and ford bonding #ventfic #tw menstruation #tw implied child abuse #tw implied transphobia #mutt's writing

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fountainpenguin · 1 year ago

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“'I'm doing this all for me!?' ... Dare say that about our love, and mister, I'll have to do away with you...” (x)

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... 7 years ago, I put this chapter preview image in my queue and it's been there ever since. It's this plot point that the entire 130 Prompts project was built around.

We've made it.

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New 130 Reasons Why I'm Fairy Trash update today!

Fairly OddParents || One-Shot - “Grudge”

Read on FFN || Read on AO3

Find more Purple Train story arc HERE

End Arc 2

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Happy Peppy Gary (the teenage boy who used to rule the world) and Denzel Crocker (the school teacher who's spent years fighting to do the same) finally meet for a business proposition. It is raining.

... Where is the portal to Fairy World?

(First 1000 words under the cut)

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21. Grudge

Saturday July 13th, 2002

Year of Leaves; Summer of the Last Berry

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5 minutes after signing the Learnatorium off to Ed Leadly…

Passing by Dimmsdale Elementary leaves him feeling… giddy. Gary clutches his backpack by the shoulder straps, taking in the sight of empty swings squeaking in the wind. They stand like giraffes drinking from the savannah watering hole near the lonely see-saws and jungle gym. It's empty here. Dreary and chilly in the wind, even for a summer evening. And, like… There is something wild, beautiful, and free in witnessing this little slip between horror and peace. It's like peeling back a corner of yellow wallpaper to reveal life and color on the other side..

These days, Gary rarely has a reason to walk by the school. His apartment's in the other direction, closer to the downtown area (Right next to Alden Bitterroot's well). But there was once a time he walked to school five days a week, and five days back the other direction (unless Mr. Sanderson in a rare show of mercy pinged them safely home).

Years ago, back when he was only ten, he used to play on this same old equipment. The school has upgraded to a new slide (with a playful rock wall), but everything still feels so familiar. He could probably run across the playground with his eyes squeezed shut and still manage to run up every step and dive down every slide. And, you know… he'd probably scrape himself up on the woodchips if he did that, but for just two or three fleeting seconds, it might be fun.

Mmm… No. He's having second thoughts about the woodchips. He'd rather have squishy rubber underfoot (or even just grass). Woodchips can pierce skin. They aren't safe. And they're not all that wheelchair-friendly either, which no one in this town seems to think about as much as he and Betty do. There's a reason he applied for a part-time job at the Learnatorium instead of volunteering at the school.

Well. A few reasons. But the illusion of choice lifts his spirits on some of his worse days.

Gary lingers at the edge of a crosswalk. It's gray, gray, gray this afternoon. Not rainy, but threateningly close. The clouds leer downward, erasing shadows from the sidewalk. Gary rocks from heels to toes and back again, waiting for the red hand firm and staring back from him to turn into a welcoming white Cross signal. Does the little glowing figure who lives inside the signal box ever feel like he's drifting through a void? Marching endlessly, stopping often, and never advancing where he'd like to go?

It's Saturday. 7 pm. There aren't many cars out on the weekend, especially since not a lot of people have a reason to stray near the elementary school in the summer. Including him, which is why he walked right past it. Sentimental he may be, but the man he's searching for only works at the school… He won't be there today.

Cars roll past, their tires slick and firm against the street. Gary presses the signal button twice (in case the first push doesn't take) and stares at his reflection in the mounted mirror on the crossing post. It's a big, round mirror, likely put there to help drivers see around the corners, so it's probably unsafe of him to stand directly in front of it, but… in that moment, Gary realizes he doesn't know how long it's been since he last looked himself over in a mirror. Properly, anyway. He doesn't need to very often. The short spikes in his hair don't require much attention (especially because he usually wears a hat). Thanks to his mild genie powers (probably? Maybe? Unclear), he's never had to deal with acne. Every now and then he adds a little eyeliner to his look, but it really depends on the day.

It's… it's been a few months since the last time he did. That stuff runs when you cry. It would give his thoughts away.

Still, Gary grimaces at the face staring back at him now. How long has he looked like a zombie in the mirror? Heavy circles cling beneath his eyes. Is that how Ed Leadly saw him when he came in today? No one he'd believe had authority; no one to take too seriously? (Actually, this adds up. Gary spent last night sleeping on the Learnatorium couch.)

The white walking figure on the crossroad sign blinks on.

I've really grown up. Did I really use to cross this busy street without adult supervision when I was a kid?

Thunder sneers overhead, though the lightning's yet to show its face. Gary keeps his thumbs in the backpack straps. He didn't need to check the address in a phone book. Everyone knows where to find 4158 Woodnick Lane. It's outlived just about everyone in Dimmsdale. It maybe always will.

Gary's halfway there when raindrops start plinking down. They sizzle on his hands. He glances up. Then, yanking the backpack over his head, he breaks into a run. Burn the witch, he thinks snidely, and immediately feels a swell of guilt. Betty, before she lost her memories, always was good at brushing off his self-deprecating thoughts. He brings up the old mantras, playing them through his head as his shoes smack the sidewalk and cars chug, their windshield wipers flinging droplets his direction.

"If you wouldn't say it to a sad child's face, don't say it to yourself."

The rain leaves bubbly welts across his hands. Gary huffs, sprinting for all he's worth, and leaps on a big cement planter just to avoid the gutter spray splash from a car rolling by. His skin throbs, hands thrusting their weird mix of human and genie cells into repairing what damage the water did. Over and over, again and again… one scalding patch of skin at a time. And it looks good as new, until it touches water again.

[Cnt’d - FFN and AO3 links at top]

#Fairly OddParents #FOP #Denzel Crocker #Happy Peppy Gary #Gary and Betty #Big Crock #ridwriting #130 Prompts #fic announcement #apparently art #We're Pixies!#FAIRIES!

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hippielittlemetalhead · 7 months ago

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Inevitable

Slightly updated version of a one-shot found in my Spot-centric anthology thing I have going on AO3. The little one-shots like this will be posted separate from the actual Sparah fic I'm working on as they are technically from different universes. Some notable changes for the sake of plot and story things.

Feel free to leave constructive criticism or to just share in the brainrot of these characters with me.

Hope ya enjoy!

Pidge is a term of endearment of the time period usually used between close friends or sweethearts. Rós is pronounced (ro-ous) or alternatively (ro-ou-sh) Roíse is pronounced (ro-sha)

He figured there wasn't much he could do when she started talking about the boy who sold near the shop she worked at. He figured there wasn't anything he could really say that wouldn't give him away when she asked if he knew the boy with the cowboy hat and red bandana. But he figured he could stretch the truth a little, she knew he wasn't Manhattan, she knew he wasn't supposed to be seen on this side of the Bridge. That he broke the few rules the Newsies could all agree on just to see her. He figured he could get away with a little white lie.

"His name's Jack Kelly. Us newsies calls him Cowboy."

"Do your nicknames really follow you to every borough?"

"Some of us they'se the only names we'se gots. Most of us don't keep the names our parents gives us."

"Is Rós your real name then, or just one you've given yourself?"

"Is real enough I suppose."

"I don't think I like that answer."

"That's life, pidge."

He knows his days are numbered when she shows up to their usual spot with bright eyes and a smile he's never seen before lighting up her face. He knows this is probably the last time he'll be able to see her like this once Jackie and his boys make good on their promise of a strike. He knows it's probably time he told her the truth.

"And he's taller than I expected. I thought he wasn't much older than you, Rós."

"I'se always been kinda short fer me age. And most of us don't keep much track o' age past when we'se can't swing it in a lodge no more."

"How old are you then?"

"Maybe sixteen? I was real little when I wound up at the lodge. Lots o' times it all jus' blurs together."

"Are there no records of you coming to the lodge?"

"I suppose, under a diff'rent name pro'lly. The one Blue gave me afore he aged out fer good."

"And when he aged out, Spot Conlon took over?"

"You'se don't gots to say 'is full name. None of us do."

"I've only heard the boys around here say his full name, and even then they're real quiet like it'll make him appear."

"Well you knows what they says about speakin' o' devil's."

"Oh you're terrible."

"So'se I'se heard."

There's no getting out of it now as he makes his way through Lower Manhattan. There's a roiling in his gut as he walks head held high and cane gripped tight in his fist as some of his boys tail him. There's newsies from every Borough and working kids alike openly watching him and plenty of adults being a little more subtle about it. There's maybe half of the older Manhattan newsies watching from the shadows as he makes his way through the midday crowd like he belongs here. There's not a sign of Cowboy or The Mouth as he settles down next to an already sitting Sarah. She hands him half a light buttery pastry and he bites back the comment that their usual spot on the fire escape in the alley behind them had better shade.

"So, from what Jack says, Spot Conlon has done a world of good for the working kids of Brooklyn. And newsies through the boroughs."

"I suppose so."

"I wouldn't mind formally meeting him. Davey said he reminded him of an avenging angel."

"Your brudda said what?"

"Oh he made some long-winded comparisons between the boy who earned the loyalty of an entire Borough -and then some- and came to the rescue of the Manhattan newsies and the angels in the Bible. Beautiful to look at and fierce to behold. Warriors of God meant to protect Heaven and Man."

"Your brudda thinks Conlon is an angel o' da Lord?"

"With everything people say about him, is it so hard to believe?"

"You Jacobs are crazy."

"Why thank you."

"Sarah, I-"

"I get why you did it. Once Jack and Davey found out about Rós it was rough. Davey had concerns for my virtue. I'm sure you can guess how Jack felt about his girl spending time with another fella."

"Jacky boy never was good at sharing."

"Then the picture came out. Jack was larger than life before but now, now he was practically walking legend. And Davey was right up there with him. Davey, Les, Racetrack, Blink and Boots and- and all those boys, they were all part of somethin bigger now. But you, you were somethin' else, Spot."

"Roíse."

"What?"

"Me name, me real one, not a nickname or somethin' I chose to make a new life, it's Roíse."

"Huh, I think I like that."

"Figures you would, pidge."

"This changes everything doesn't it?"

"A bit. I'se Spot Conlon and you'se Jack Kelly's girl. We've got a Strike ta run and I think there's more than just a factory or tha docks waitin for us when we'se age out now."

"You boys are changing the world."

"We're gonna try at least."

Francis Sullivan. Spot knew most of the newsies had fake surnames or used nicknames instead of their Christian ones but he could see why Cowboy had changed everything about his. He had been the one to break the news to Sarah when she met them outside of the courthouse sans her beau. He was glad to see she had managed to make it out safe and unharmed, glad that both 'hattan and Brooklyn had listened when he barked out the order to get her to safety above all else.

She doesn't cry when he tells her about Francis Sullivan and his real folks and his sentence to the Refuge. She doesn't cry when he tells her the cause that Cowboy had gotten himself what might as well be a life sentence to kids like them for was practically ground to a halt since Denton couldn't -wouldn't- publish another article about their strike. She doesn't cry when he finds her not two days later and tells her that the one person he had thought he could stand losing a girl like her to Legendary Strike Leader, Jack Kelly had shown up in a fancy new suit and a whole stack of crisp newspapers, denouncing the very war he started. She doesn't cry when she reaches out to pull him in close and rest her head on his shoulder while they both catch their breath like they used to on that fire escape down the block from her family's apartment but he takes a small step back, more a shifting of his weight to his back foot really, enough to keep the space between them. She doesn't cry when he takes his hat off and calls her Miss Jacobs, wishing her a good day with a bow like those fancy gents give the fancy ladies they will never be.

He doesn't say anything when he hears word that Jack 'Cowboy' Kelly is back with a plan. He doesn't say anything when he hears that Mouth is sporting a shiner from one of the Delanceys, that he got it defending his sister's honour. He doesn't say anything when he and his boys make sure Denton makes it to Roosevelt without any of Pulitzer's goons getting to him. He doesn't say a word when he sees Jack Kelly standing tall and proud and bigger than life in front of thousands of young kids who had never had a voice before now, a Jacobs on each side. He holds Les close between him and Racetrack so he doesn't get swept away in the crowd.

He doesn't look for her when Jack Kelly rides away in Teddy Roosevelt's fancy carriage. He bites his tongue when the damned fool comes back, sweeping up his girl and kissing her for all the world to see. He shrugs Racetrack off when the other boy asks him if he's okay. He pretends not to see the way the other 'hattan teenagers watch him, daring him to give them a reason. He turns away when he sees her searching for him in the crowd.

They had won the day, now he had a borough to run.

#rambler writes #newsies 1992 #newsies broadway #jack x Sarah #newsies rarepair #jack kelly x sarah jacobs #sparah #sarah x spot #spot x sarah #unrequited feelings #or is it 👀#we'll have to wait and see #pining spot conlon #spot conlon has feelings #self indulgence time

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blackbird-brewster · 1 year ago

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Welcome to another instalment of sad trash Jemily head canons! Today's song: 'Light On' by Maggie Rogers.

Rated: General Pairing: JJ/Emily Tags: Angst, open ending WC: 3400 Cross Posted to AO3 - READ HERE

Emily has trouble sleeping. She always has, but her insomnia/night terrors are really bad when she first joins the BAU because it's her first time in active field duty in a long while. and it naturally pings shit about Doyle.

They're coming back from a long case, it's a red eye flight. everyone is sleeping, but Em is just reading. JJ wakes up to use the bathroom and sits back with Em and says something casual like 'oh can't sleep?"

Emily dismisses it like 'haha, no, i never sleep. even if we were already home, i'd probably just be driving around to clear my head'

But JJ actually gets it, she doesn't sleep well most nights either. So she extends a vague invitation like 'well, if you ever find yourself in my neighbourhood in the middle of the night -- just knock. I'm probably up too'

Emily doesn't think anything of this, passes it off as a joke.

But then after Children of the dark, Emily finds herself driving. she's thinking about Carrie and that leads to thinking about Declan and she's NOT going to sleep anytime she thinks of him.

She's been in the car for who knows how long, but ends up gravitating towards JJ's although she doesn't consciously understand why.

And to her surprise, the porch light is on. She parks outside for a minute and remembers the off-hand comment JJ said sometimes last year about always being up late.

But Em realises that was a year ago, it'd be way too weird to knock at 2am now.

So, she goes home.

>>> More Below the Cut

The very next month, Pen gets shot. Emily is worried sick after leaving the hospital. But she can also still feel JJ's hand in hers even though that was three hours ago and that scares her in ways that have recently become more conscious to her, even if she's still trying to deny it.

She goes for a drive.

She winds up in front of JJ's again -- and the porch light is on.

This time, Emily actually parks. She gets as far as the front step before realising she's being an idiot and chickens out.

JJ has never said anything about this stupid vague offer to her ever since that ONE time, it'd be WILD for Emily to show up now.

She goes home and tries to forget about the whole thing.

months go by. Em finds herself in front of JJ's every few weeks in her usual night drive. The light is on every time, but she can never work up the courage to knock.

But in that same period, Emily has finally admitted to herself just how much she likes JJ. They're inseparable at work, she thinks JJ is the most amazing woman she's ever known.

And Emily knows she's hard crushing, but there's no way in hell she's going to tell JJ any of that

The team gets called to Miami.

Will is there. This random redneck guy from New Orleans who JJ laughed about the entire case the year prior. She'd tell Emily how he was hitting on her and stuff and the two of them thought he was so grating.

But now he's here. In Miami.

And the way JJ greets him -- something about it makes Emily uncomfortable.

She watches them together and it's not hard to see what's happening. At some point after the case in New Orleans, they obviously got together.

In a form of self-preservation, Emily pushes JJ towards him the whole time they're on the case. She's trying to get JJ to admit the truth.

But when it's confirmed, when JJ does go after him and make their relationship known - -Emily feels sick

She knew she had a crush, but the moment she sees JJ kissing Will at the end of the case -- she realises its SO much more than a crush.

When the team gets back, Emily is driving all night. She goes through half a tank of gas, just mindlessly driving so she doesn't have to focus on how much this HURTS.

She finds herself in front of JJ's, like she always does.

The porch light is on.

As if she doesn't have control of her own body, she parks.

She gets out.

She walks to the door.

Her hand is halfway to knocking when she pulls away.

She can't do this to JJ, not RIGHT after JJ told everyone she's in a relationship.

She's already turned to leave when the door opens.

"Em?"

She turns around and finds JJ standing there. God, how is she THAT beautiful at 3am??

"I thought you'd never actually knock," JJ says. "Come in."

Emily follows her inside and JJ points to the front window that faces the street. There's a big comfy chair there with a side table full of books.

JJ says, "I've been sitting here every night for over a year. Just waiting for you to actually do it. I left the light on, just hoping one day you'd knock. But you never have."

"No, I haven't." Emily mutters. She's so embarrassed. JJ has SEEN how many times Emily has parked outside of her house and never done anything about it.

JJ smiles and nods kind of solemnly. Of course she knows why Emily's never had the courage. She knows Emily well enough, she knows that Emily likes her. And truthfully, JJ has liked her back for even longer. But Emily never made a move, so JJ thought it was all in her head.

JJ makes them tea, they talk about the case, they talk about the weather, politics, current events, they talk about EVERYTHING except the one thing they both KNOW needs talking about.

Even then, neither of them want to name their feelings.

Emily doesn't leave until sunrise. And for once, she sleeps soundly. She's never gotten better sleep in her adult life.

Over the following weeks, she and JJ have this little middle of the night routine.

And every time Emily goes home, she sleeps for a solid eight hours without night terrors.

It's a miracle.

Then, Will shows up while the team is on a case. He's mad, telling JJ she shouldn't be in the field.

And Emily realises suddenly, that although she's known that JJ was in a relationship with him ever since the case in Miami -- in all the nights they've stayed up together, JJ has never brought him up. And it basically made Emily forget about him completely.

But here he is now, so it's hard to ignore.

It's even harder to ignore their relationship when he outs that JJ is pregnant.

She must have known for a while, Emily thinks. She must have known she was pregnant all those nights they've been staying up talking.

And it makes Emily sick. The unrequited love she's been trying to compartmentalise consumes her and she finds it impossible to think about anything else.

So she goes driving.

She finds herself naturally heading towards JJ's and there's a very big part of her that is SO ready to tell JJ to leave Will. To leave him, because he's not good enough for her. She doesn't have to stay with him JUST because she's pregnant.

Emily is more than ready to admit she loves her. To tell her she'll help in any way JJ needs, if only JJ could give her the chance.

But when she gets there -- the porch light is off.

She sits there, staring at the house, deciding whether or not to knock, but ultimately, she takes the light as a clear indicator this was a mistake.

She goes home. she doesn't sleep. she never sleeps if she hasn't talked to JJ.

Time goes by, it gets less painful to be around JJ now that Will's moved to DC to be with her properly.

Some nights, Emily still finds herself outside the house.

But the light is always off.

She never knocks.

She pushes away how much she loves JJ. She tries to ignore it, to forget it, to get over it.

But how can she when she's pretty sure JJ is the only person in the whole world Emily want's to be with for the rest of her life.

It's gruelling, painful, but Emily is the master of masking her true feelings. So she never says anything.

She never knocks.

She never sleeps.

And years pass. It's not a good routine, but it is a routine. She's so used to her insomnia, it doesn't bother her much. She stops driving by JJ's house eventually, there's no reason to. It just makes her feel worse, so she stops driving to that side of town when she's night driving.

JJ gets reassigned and it makes it easier at least. Emily doesn't have to see her every day. She misses her at work, but it's actually a blessing in disguise because it finally allows her time to get over her feelings.

Emily already wasn't sleeping, so when she realises Doyle is back, it's not too much of a change in her routine to stay up nights on end.

She doesn't drive though.

She spends her nights sitting in front of her door with a gun in hand.

Waiting for him, because she knows he'll be coming for her.

Even if she was out driving instead of just waiting -- it's not like she could talk to JJ about any of this. The team don't know about Doyle or Lauren or Valhalla.

It makes Emily realise that for how much she and JJ have talked, they really never said anything to each other.

Nothing of true substance. And that realisation hurts, because it's jsut another reminder that Emily's feelings have ALWAYS been unrequited.

Any gesture or chat or subtext she's built up in her mind, any hint that JJ might love her too, none of it's real. JJ doesn't even truly know anything about Emily.

Emily realises NO ONE knows her, not really. She's been on the team for four years and she's never let them truly get to know her. It wasn't on purpose, she's just so good at building walls, she doesn't even realise she's built them in the first place.

Before Doyle can come for her, she comes for him first.

Everything goes wrong.

She very nearly loses her life, but by some miracle, she makes it.

JJ escorts her to Paris for Emily to go into hiding, at least until Doyle's arrested.

It's the first time they've spent any real time together since JJ left the BAU.

This time, they do talk though. They really talk and Emily learns so much about JJ and to her own surprise, she tells JJ plenty about herself too.

They still don't talk about their true feelings, but they do connect in a way they never had before.

In Paris, Emily doesn't drive, but she walks. She walks at night to clear her head. It's never quiet in Paris, not really, there's always people bustling around. It's loud in ways DC wasn't, similar, but different.

But she walks, because she doesn't drive and she tries to clear her head most nights.

But she doesn't sleep.

The day Hotch calls her back to DC, the day she sees the team for the first time since they buried her. The first time she sees JJ since Paris, Emily feels so lost.

She doesn't sleep, so she drives.

She ends up at JJ's house.

And she parks, because she sees the light on.

Now that she knows where JJ's reading chair is, she eyes that window and she sees the curtains move.

She knows JJ must be waiting up for her, even though she's a mom now, she's got Will now, she should be sleeping -- but for whatever reason, she's not.

She's sitting there with the light on, just waiting for Emily.

Emily doesn't get out. She can't.

She leaves, goes home, and doesn't sleep.

Six months go by and she never sleeps. Everything is so loud and constant and conflicting and hard.

Her job never felt hard before. She's a great profiler, but ever since she came back, it's all wrong. It's difficult to focus on anything other than the fact everyone looks at her like she's a ghost, because to them, she is. To them, she always will be, in some regard.

She already wanted to leave, but JJ agreeing to marry Will was the deciding factor.

After the reception, Emily finds herself driving. She goes to JJ's, even though it's stupid, because it's JJ's wedding night. What does Emily plan to achieve tonight?

She's surprised, conflicted mostly, when she sees the light on.

It should feel comforting, to know JJ's still there for her, to know JJ's still waiting up for her. But it doesn't feel like that.

It hurts. God it hurts so bad Emily's half convinced she's actually having a heart attack.

It takes her ten entire minutes to recover enough to be able to drive again.

She gets home and doesn't sleep.

She stares at an email from Clyde. An email she's been avoiding for a week now.

She sends her reply and in doing so, she accepts a job in London.

When Hotch calls her to tell her JJ is missing, Emily is on a flight in an hour.

She barely makes it in time, but she does make it in time.

She stays in DC for a week, just to be sure JJ's alright -- even though Emily knows first hand, JJ will never be alright again after what she endured.

Emily finds herself driving her rental car at night. Haunting the same streets she's spent so many nights driving down.

She winds up at JJ's and she tells herself it's just because she's worried about her.

Emily's been living in London for nearly two years now, she's a different woman now. She's gotten over those feelings about JJ, she's really moved on.

But there she is. Right back in front of JJ's house in the middle of the night.

She's only hand surprised to see the light on.

She's a different woman now. She's braver, or she likes to think she is.

So she parks, she goes to the door, she knocks.

JJ answers and they sit in the kitchen all night long.

And when the sun rises, Emily leaves and goes back to her hotel. And she sleeps.

Not that she knows it, but JJ sleeps too. It's actually the first time in two years that JJ really sleeps through the night. Which is unexpected considering what she's just gone through.

But it's true. She sleeps.

Another two years. Emily comes back for a case and she stays an extra handful of days to catch up with the team.

It's really hard for her. Everyone asks how she's doing, is she happy in London, what's it like being the bigshot running an entire Interpol office?

She has a flight back to London at the first crack of dawn, so she doesn't sleep beforehand, in hopes she'll sleep on the plane.

She finds herself outside of JJ's house. There's no light, why would there be?

She and JJ don't really keep in touch anymore. They've grown apart like adults tend to do.

Emily gets on her flight and she spends the next eight hours not sleeping.

The next time she comes back, it's specifically to help out at the BAU.

JJ seems genuinely happy to see her and they go for a drink, they catch up in the same way they used to -- they talk without saying anything. But just spending time with JJ again is plenty for Emily. She missed this, she missed her best friend.

And late that night, Emily finds herself driving. Seeing JJ started to kick up old emotions Emily thought were long gone. And her head is so loud, she just needs to try and clear it. She's sure this feeling will pass, it's just her nerves about seeing the team again after so long.

She drives. She doesn't even pretend like she's heading anywhere other than JJ's house.

She's also not surprised when the light's off. Why would JJ be waiting for her, when Emily's barely a visitor here?

Emily can't possibly know that Will hates it when JJ leaves the light on. Early on, when he first moved in with her, he made a habit of flipping it off every night.

He mentioned it to her at the time, but she said it was just a habit, since she was used to coming home from cases at all times of night. And it was nice to have the light on to welcome her home. (It's a lie, but he believes it)

He always turns it off though, reminding her she doesn't need the light when he's right there to welcome her home now.

There would be random periods of time where she'd leave it one sometimes and he'd always flip it off. It was such a mundane thing, neither of them talked about it. Will just accepted it as one of those quirks that you get used to when you live with someone who does something out of habit and over time, it just became the routine. JJ would leave the light on randomly, he would turn it off.

It was so mundane, it's not like they talked about it. It was just about as normal as JJ closing the toilet seat when Wil left it up.

Suddenly -- Emily's here to stay though. She's taking up UC without warning and the team i shocked, but more so than anyone -- JJ is shocked.

She's shocked because this change stirs up something she had forgotten long ago. Feelings. It stirs feelings about Emily, about all the nights they stayed up talking. And it terrifies her.

She's got a whole life with Will and their two kids now. She cannot be feeling things for Emily.

She doesn't sleep anymore. She tosses and turns and spends most nights going downstairs to read in her chair.

She always leaves the light on when she does, some part of her just hoping Emily will turn up and take the choice out of JJ's hands. She wishes Emily would knock and finally, finally, talk to her and ACTUALLY say something. Because JJ knows she's never going to make the first move, not after all these years.

She never sees Emily's headlights though. Every night she sits and reads in her chair in the front window, with the light on, no one ever drives by.

The thing is -- Emily's a different person now. She loves being UC and she's good at it. It doesn't feel hard like it did after Paris.

And she actually sleeps now. Sleeps through the night with very little night terrors or issues. She owes that to years of therapy and the miracle of SSRIs.

She has no need to drive at night anymore.

Emily has her job, her career, and every once in a while, she'll date someone for a short stint to relieve her loneliness. Those relationships are only ever a temporary fix, she can never fully commit herself to any one person.

Not when she's known for years, that JJ is the only person in the whole world Emily would ever consider being with for the rest of her life. Not that it matters, that ship sailed too many years ago and Emily is okay with that. She's accepted her solitude and in actuality, she sleeps much better on her own anyway, so at least she has that.

She and JJ find a new way to exist around each other. Mostly, they give each other a wide berth. They don't talk about why, but on some level, they both understand why it's difficult to have Emily back here, back here after so many years of late nights and talking where they never said what they meant.

And for the most part, it works for them. There are still times where one or both of them hint at the truth under the lies. But they never name it outright. They only ever acknowledge it through lingering glances, or vague conversations about the 'what-ifs' and 'if-onlys' of life.

But -- sometimes, after a really difficult case, JJ leaves her porch light on. Just in case.

#criminal minds #jennifer jareau #emily prentiss #jemily #cm fanfiction #cm headcanon #my writing

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vampire-caprisun · 5 months ago

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We Can be Heroes CH1

Hello! Im finally going to start posting my cringe fan fiction on here and AO3, hopefully going to try to keep myself on a weekly release schedule but that might be subject to change depending on my current workload and job schedule. Thinking of making this two parts with the main story of bg3 being part one and an epilogue adventure being part 2.

Anyway this is my Tav Inala's story, shes a drow Ranger/Rogue seeking redemption and finding love and family in the process. Very durge coded without being a durge herself and I'm probably going to work in elements from the durge storyline into this fic since I love both.

Warnings: Voilence, talks of SH and suicide, talks of SA, drug use, alcohol consumption, lots of smut, mentions of past abuse, trauma and ptsd

Relationships: Astarion/named!Tav, Astarion/f!tav, Shadowzel, Wyllach, and some light implied Halsin/Astarion/Tav later on in the story if you squint.

Chapter 1: Love at First Knife

A bottle shattered next to a pair of boots. Their owner stumbled through the forest heading in no direction in particular. She was very drunk, barely registering that her poorly bandaged hand was bleeding again. It didn't matter anyway, if something in the woods didn't kill her tonight her former boss absolutely will later.

“I deserve it.” She slurred to no one in particular. “I deserve all of this.” Her eyes began to leak fat tears again. A year ago she was a different person, ruthless, capable, on track to be one of the most in demand assassins on the Sword Coast. Then everything changed the moment that sorceress’ lips pressed against her own. The bitterness, the misanthropic behavior melted away and she was left confused and deconstructed. Was this truly who she wanted to be? Could she be more than a blade in the dark? Nyra sure thought so, before her throat was cut. Now the Dread Raven wanders the woods alone again, intoxicated and haunted by ghosts who saw something better in her. “I can't do this Nyra, I can't.” She sobs as if talking to someone who isn't there. “I'm not a good person, I never have been. Fuck why'd you have to die I dont know what I'm doing, why’d you have to fucking leave?!” she screams into the dark, her voice going hoarse.

“Show me what to do or let me end please.” She was begging now, begging her dead lover, the gods, anyone who would listen really. “I don't want to be alone anymore.” The drow sobs quietly as she comes to the edge of a steep cliffside, a peaceful beach below it with waves crashing into the rocks. It would be so easy, just a couple more steps…..but she stops as if something won't let her continue. “You are so much more than what they made you to be Inala.” Nyra’s words echoed in her brain as if she was still here. “Fight for it. Fight for you and everyone else this fucked up world screwed over. If anyone can change their stars its you. Fight back.” the drow crashed to her knees.

“Ok.” She said quietly tears falling onto the rock below her. “Fuck you. You win, I'll fight.” she sighed swaying with the wind a bit as she cast her eyes upwards to the stars. “I want to live.” she whispered to herself. Then just as her drunken hallucinations had reached their final crescendo one more massive one appeared in front of her. Raw fear gripped the drow’s heart as a tentacle shot forward from the massive ship. Well so much for wanting a second chance.

____________________

Inala groaned and rolled onto her side, her head pounding with what might be the worst hangover in history. This is why she doesn't like sleeping too often. What a gods damn weird dream. Illithids, a Githyanki, apparently they drove a Nautaloid through Avernus? She wanted to just lay there for a bit longer until her head stopped screaming at her and the nausea subsided but the smell of fire and destruction had her up quickly. Oh gods. It wasn't a dream.

She had been on this ship and crashed it into the beach. Somehow her rock bottom had just become so much worse. The drow stood up on wobbly legs, her long raven hair tangled and caked in sand, her makeup smudged across her freckled cheeks and she was pretty sure she reeked of gore and whiskey. She dared not look at her reflection right now but at least she's not a mindflayer. Well, not yet. Right, healer find a healer. Wasn't that one shadow woman a cleric? Shit maybe she lived?

The ranger stretched and groaned, her body sore and her mind still foggy. She breathed in, taking in her surroundings searching for signs of survivors from the crash. Find the cleric.

Inala didn't have to wander far, the dark haired woman laid on her back intact and what looked to be mostly unharmed. She noticed her hand clutched that strange artifact she had seen on the ship that had been quickly hidden away from her the moment she took interest in it. The drow thought for a moment, eyes flicking to the cleric and then to the glowing object. She decided to carefully reach out to it hoping to get a better look at whatever valuable item this half elf was keeping hidden, maybe even use it as leverage…then suddenly she was caught, the cleric sat upright holding a knife to the drow’s chest. Inala backed up hands in the air. “Sorry!” she grinned sheepishly “I was just looking!”

“And why would I believe you?” The half elf eyed her with suspicion. Inala felt the thing in her head squirm then connect to the cleric, their thoughts and intentions shared with another. They both stumbled back.

“That thing they put in our heads you…you have the same one?” The half elf stuttered.

“What the hells was that? You were in my head!?” the drow snarled, her hangover not helping the trobing that came from the worm's activity in her skull.

“I…I don't know. I remember the ship I remember falling then nothing. That's all I know. They….they put something in our heads.”

The two women stared at one another in a stalemate, then finally Inala set her weapons on the ground putting up her empty hands “Look we need to cooperate if we're going to live through this. I don't want to become a mindflayer and I'm guessing you dont either. Where's the green woman?”

“Lae'zell? She seems to have run off without us. Seems like I'm more reliable than your friend.” the half elf smirked putting her own knife away and crossing her arms.

Inala glared now rubbing her head “Well do you have any ideas on how to fix this then? Because she was the only person who seemed to have some sort of knowledge of what happened to us.”

“No, but first things first we need supplies and shelter.”

Inala smiled at that, finally something in her wheelhouse. “Leave that to me. I've lived outdoors all my life. I can throw a camp together for us if you agree to cooperate. I want this worm out just as much as you do.”

“Alright we help each other then. You can call me Shadowheart. That's all you need to know.”

“Fine. You can call me Inala and that's also all you need to know.” they nodded at one another both sensing the other was also a very guarded and private individual. They set off to salvage through the wreckage not encountering much but a few walking brains to fight. Finding the githyanki in this mess was going to be like searching for a needle in a haystack. What Inala would give to have her crows right about now…Wherever they are. Her poor feathered friends were probably worried sick about her. She'd find them soon and then she'd pack up and leave. Go somewhere far away where no one knew of her past alias or the horrible things she had done. Maybe join a circus or something who knows at this point.

Hours passed until they came out through a section of wreckage that opened up to a clearing overlooking the beach below. A disoriented man stood at the edge of the cliff and the ranger paused.

“There's someone up ahead.”

The pale elf turned to the two women. He waved frantically in their direction shouting “Help!” To them as they approached.

“Do you see it? There in the bushes I got one of those brain things cornered. You can kill it can't you?” He pointed out towards the beach. Inala glared at him eyeing his fancy embroidery and flashy purple doublet. Her eyes traced his slender form to the dagger on his hip.

“You seem pretty capable, kill it yourself.” Inala grumbled unimpressed with this city dwelling noble, he reminded her of the pricks she used kill for. The drow turned to leave and then with almost supernatural speed and silence she felt a cool blade at her throat as she was pulled to the ground.

“Shhhhhhh not a sound not if you want to keep that darling neck of yours.” he purred as she struggled then turned to her companion. “And you keep your distance no need for this to get messy.”

Was this fool serious? Inala could kill him in three different ways if she wanted to and wipe that smug grin right off his pretty face. “Really wish people would stop pulling knives on me today.” She groaned and the elf pressed the blade into her throat a little more.

“Now now I just want to talk. I saw you on the ship didn't I? Nod.” He gave the command and the drow glared at him her eyes becoming silver slits as she obeyed.

“Good.” he purred and then twisted the knife upwards when she struggled. “You're in league with them aren't you? Those tentacled-” the drow slammed her forehead into his before he could finish seeing an opportunity in the city elf's paranoia and taking it. He stumbled back holding his head as Shadowheart ran to assist her. The pale elf snarled his red eyes going dark as he shifted his grip on his dagger “You little-AH” in that moment their heads connected. Inala could see through his eyes, the dark alleyways the noisy taverns, the fear the pain. In moments they saw into each others souls. The elf's eyes widened a bit as she flooded his mind, flashes of an arrow sailing into a body with a thud, the excited screaming of corvids, the isolation and familiarity of darkness. They held their heads and stared at each other for a beat recognizing more than just a shared parasite affliction.

“What was that what's going on?” He demanded.

“Those things did something to us. The worms they're connected I think.” The drow snapped at him glaring in his direction.

The stranger straightened himself dropping his blade “You're …you're not one of them, they took you just the same as me.”

“I'm trying to find a cure so we don't become mindflayers. I saw it happen on the ship and I won't be sharing the same fate.”

“Turn us into mindflayers I- aha hahahaha!” He paused and began to laugh to himself while the horror and pain were evident behind his eyes. “Of course it will turn me into a monster.” He sighed sadly.

She stared at the pale beautiful man in fancy embroidery. He wouldn't last a day out here on his own and he did get the jump on her, he could be useful potentially.

“My name is Astarion. I was a magistrate in Baldur's Gate when those things grabbed me.”

The drow glanced up at him and considered something for a moment. “Im Inala. I'm a ranger in these woods. Do you need a place to camp? I suppose we should all stick together.” she asked him as Shadowheart looked on bewildered that her newfound companion just offered a strange man with a knife shelter. The handsome elf paused

“I was going to go this alone but sticking with the herd might not be a bad idea.” He smiled almost in relief. The drow returned his grin and held out her hand. Astarion hesitated then extended his own before being yanked forward, the rangers grip tight on his wrist. “One more thing city boy.” She hissed and twisted his arm behind him, her own dagger coming to rest under his chin. “If you pull a knife on me again I won't be as nice.”

Astarion audibly swallowed. “Noted.” He croaked out as he was released and shoved forward.

“That goes for you as well cleric, next person to threaten me with a blade loses the hand holding it.” Inala grumbled and marched ahead of her two companions.

“Feisty. I like it.” the elf rubbed the spot on his chin where her knife had been raising an eyebrow in interest. The cleric next to him groaned.

____________________

Their search for the githyanki had become much more tedious than anticipated. They had been through most of the wreckage and all they found was a tadpoled wizard in a rock formation who wasn't amused when Inala slapped his hand instead of pulling him free. Whatever he set himself up for that one.

There was a ruin ahead,and said wizard, who went by Gale, began to insist that they investigate sensing magic in the area or something.

“And what do you even expect to find in this dust covered death trap?” The pale elf asked as they made their way down the path.

“Hopefully something useful to help us deal with the parasites in our brains.” Gale replied marching ahead of the group. Astarion suddenly stopped and put his hand out to the two women behind him.

“We're not alone.” he hissed as Gale continued to talk away ahead of them.

“How do you know?” Inala whispered back.

“I can hear them! Several people down in the ruin one on watch.”

“I don't hear anything!” Shadowheart glanced around trying to hear whatever the fuck the elf was tuned in to. Inala also tried to listen for voices but got nothing. “I have no idea what you're on about.” she stared at him with suspicion. Either the elf was mad, or he happened to be blessed with the best set of ears in Faerun.

“Ugh we need to get closer clearly you both have abysmal hearing.”

“Or you're just a freak.” Shadowheart laughed earning her a glare.

That's when Inala saw the smoke from a campfire above the trees. Fuck the elf was right. Acting quick she bolted ahead and grabbed the wizard by the mouth pulling him off the main road and into cover holding his blabbering lips shut as he squirmed in protest. Astarion and Shadowheart had already joined her, the four of them glancing at one another for direction.

“What do we do?” Shadowheart whispered as gale made a noise of protest.

“Someone needs to scout ahead and determine if they're friendly. I vote for the city elf since he seems to have freak hearing.” the ranger suggested still holding a struggling Gale.

Shadowheart snickered again.

Astarion glared at the drow. “And I vote for the ranger since she seems to think she's in charge.”

Inala turned to him. “Well I don't see any of you making important decisions for the group.”

“Then allow me to be the first. Go scout ahead darling.”

Inala huffed and glared back at the rogue releasing Gale as she did. The wizard spun around at both of them.

“Well since the two of you seem to be so fond of eachother why don't you both go and take your bickering far away from here.”

They both turned their annoyance to Gale who finished dusting himself off. The ranger and the rogue eyed one another suspiciously.

“Only if he can finally keep his mouth shut. Are you even capable of that city boy?”

“I got the jump on you didnt I? Wild girl.” He sneered back and Inala wanted to wipe that pointy smug grin off his pretty face.

“How about the both of you stop posturing and actually do your jobs.” Shadowheart groaned in annoyance.

“He started it.”

“Did not.”

Gale shoved both of them back onto the dirt path “Just get on with it already! I swear the two of you are the noisiest scouts alive!”

________________

They approached the ruin in relative silence. Inala was even mildly impressed that the elf was as stealthy as he boasted. As they crept up behind a bush they could see a man posted on lookout and Astarion made a few gestures to her with his hands. Oh good he actually knows theives cant the city elf may be useful after all.

I count 7.

He signed to her and to his surprise she signed back.

8 there's one behind the door.

They both acknowledged the old wooden door the rest seemed to be guarding.

What do you think is behind it?

The elf asked and Inala smiled to herself as the gears in her head began to turn. She turned back to him.

If it's valuable, I want it.

That seemed to warm him up to her. A sinister grin grew on Astarion's lips as he peered over the bushes once more to get a look at the door. “Hmm maybe you're not so annoying after all ranger.” he whispered.

“Shall we get the others?”

“Do we need to?”

“Only if you think you can't handle a few bandits.”

“Oh trust me, I'm more than capable.”

“Good, I'm dropping the crates.”

“The what?”

Before he could protest the drow already had her bow out and aiming for a stack of heavy crates secured in a net above the camp. With a single shot she severed the rope watching them fall through the wooden platform they were secured over, taking two of the bandits with them. Astarion had no choice but to leap into action. He took aim at the guard and landed an arrow in his gut then followed up by jumping the man and slicing his throat. Inala had leapt up onto what was left of a stone arch firing an arrow through a half elf's eye then dropped from above onto the remaining bandit driving her hatchet into her skull. She spun in time to dodge a crossbow bolt shot at her by a halfling on the second story preparing herself to counter when an arrow flew through the man's throat shot by Astarion from the other side. The ranger and the rogue both glanced at one another with newfound respect as Gale and Shadowheart caught up to them.

“The hells happened? You two were supposed to scout ahead?!” The wizard yelled at the both of them.

“Oops.” The drow giggled as she cleaned her ax.

“Why are you even complaining wizard? We did all the dirty work for you.” Astarion scoffed as he began to loot the bodies.

“You murdered five people!” Gale gestured wildly to the carnage around them.

“Technically it was seven. I wouldn't call it murder really, I just got to them before they could kill me.” Inala rolled her eyes as she tossed Shadowheart a pouch full of food. Astarion gestured over to Inala.

“See the drow gets it!”

“Oh so you're friends now.” Shadowheart narrowed her eyes at him.

“Friends is a strong word cleric.” Inala huffed

“More like colleagues who appreciate a fellow artist's work.” Astarion gave the drow a dramatic bow which she returned with an appreciative nod.

“Why are all of you obsessed with violence?” Gale hissed as the door they had all forgotten about burst open with several fireballs being slung in their direction.

“Shit!” The four of them cursed in unison.

More bandits poured out into the ruin resulting in an all out brawl. Inala rushed the first one, easily landing a devastating blow to the torso with her hatchets then spun the dying man around to use as a meat shield for an incoming volley of arrows. Shadowheart had fired a beam of light at the dwarf who had Inala pinned but was overtaken by a dragonborn with a greatsword. Inala snarled and lept into action fighting him back with a few well executed counter maneuvers. He caught her once on the side and the drow saw red, leaping at him and driving her hatchet deep into the side of the dragon man's neck. She could feel her companions eyes on her, the pale elf in particular seemed awestruck by the blood and viscera that dripped from her skin. Freak. Inala thought to herself as she helped Shadowheart to her feet. The cleric healed her quickly then turned to help Gale as a few more bandits trickled out of the ruin. Inala could have sworn she saw the elf try to sniff his blade as he pulled it out of the chest cavity of one of them. The drow began to wonder what the hells mind flayers wanted with a collection of violent weirdos like them.

The final enemy fell with a scream in agony as their wizard delivered one last bolt of lightning straight to their back and then the battle was over. Bodies littered the outside of the old temple and blood stained the sand. The newly formed party panted and stood in the carnage glancing at one another. They'd all done well with their first test as a team. Astarion of course is the first to break the calm.

“Well it seems like we're all much more capable than we've been letting on ey?”

“Will someone please shut him up?” Inala groaned and began to silently loot the corpses.

Gale sighed and stretched his back “Oh believe me we are all wishing for it.”

___________________________________________

And thats chapter one! The gang is definitely going to need some team building exercises that dont involve murder but they at least work well together despite being disasters. Next chapter involves telling eachother secrets and some bonding. Hope you guys liked it!

#astarion #astarion x tav #bg3 fanfiction #astarion fanfic #astarion x oc #inala is such a girlfailure i love her #theyre just stray cats hissing at eachother right now

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stickeefries · 9 months ago

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Note: soo I made a one shot from my ideas... If it gets one like I will keep making them. I think I did this good. It's only a little less than 2,000 words so it is short. Also I probably will be posting this on ao3 under the same name. I'll add the link in another post to the work.

Warning: Death. Adam dies. Angst no comfort. Slight description of blood. Abuse mention. Cheating mention.

I Retrace My Steps

"No... you don't get to end this!” He has to keep going.

“I'm fucking Adam! I'm the fucking man, and you're just some fuckin' clown or something.” He can’t stop. Not yet. Not if he wants them to live.

“I started everything on Earth! All of mankind came from these fucking nuts!” A little more. Then he can leave and have some time with Lute. Then he can pretend that things were peaceful.

“You all should be worshipping me, you ungrateful, disgusting, fucking losers!" He heard the knife before he felt it in his back. A burning sensation spread throughout his body. Adam saw Lucifer’s lips move, no sound coming to his ears. He felt wind pass his body as he fell. Dirt rubbed into his face, a small weight pressing on his lower back. More words that fall just out of reach from his ears. The weight shifted and he felt the offending weapon pull from his body and snap back down. Over and over and over. A knife? The familiar feeling of pain rushed through his body. What is happening? The weight on his back shifts again and lifts from his body. He could barely make out the small pitter-patter of steps walking away from him. A scream sounded out his name on their lips. Adams knows that voice. Why was Lute yelling?

A hand pressed on his arm, turning him over. Lute’s face came into view. Tears were pouring down her beautiful face, golden blood marking cuts on her. Pain and despair swam in her eyes. She spoke words that he could not hear. Her voice was a soft vibration in his ears, just inaudible. Adam reached up to gently wipe the tears from her face, his hand falling shortly afterward. The effort to lift it again is too much. Exhaustion filled him, a warm liquid puddling under his body. That was his blood. The golden substance seeped from his body, a coldness covered him like a frosty blanket.

He has to stay for Lute, for the exorcists under his care. Adam fought through the fog that was covering his mind. His attempts were for naught. Memories of old played behind his eyes, a blessed break in the fog. This was it huh? His life was flashing before his eyes. He was going to die.

Adam remembers the first time he saw Lilith. She glowed with such beauty that nothing had compared to. The trees and water, animals and plants, were all nothing in comparison to her beauty. Her blonde hair reminded him of the sunlight. Her eyes were white as the feathers of doves. He was enamored the second he set eyes on her. It didn’t take long for love to set in his chest. He learned that love was fierce, fiery, and fast. He felt overwhelmed by the new emotion, angels telling him this was normal.

Not long after he learned that love also hurt. Everything he did would never be enough for her. Every flower he brought her, every compliment he gave, every moment he dedicated to her, everything he did for her, would never be enough. Soon bruises would mark his throat and wrists, a mark for talking too much, not talking enough. Because he didn’t give her the right flower, the right words, the right amount of time.

He felt relief when she started to distance herself. Soon that relief turned into pain. Lilith was with another. She was doing things he wished to do with her, with an angel. She had drawn him near to see the things that she did. Hurt filled his heart, the feeling cutting him deep. The angels had seen what happened and separated him from them. From Lilith, from Lucifer.

The second time he fell in love was when Eve came into his life. He remembers the pain that had taken over his chest. Angels tell him that they have a gift for him, but they need this part of him to give it. The first time he saw her, he feared. Her entire being was the opposite of Lilith. She was small and dainty. Brown hair and honeyed eyes that reminded him of the earth he came from. Tan skin with soft dots that covered her being. Even so, fear filled him. Would she hurt him like Lilith? Months passed before that fear faded, she never touched him with bad intentions. Instead, she helped him make food to eat, name the new animals, and was on his side when they spoke to the angels. Soon he felt love for her as well. This love was different than the love for Lilith, it was as soft as the fur of the animals they love. This love was as quick as the love for Lilith but like the current of a river.

Just as he learned from Lilith that love hurt, he learned that this love hurt as well. The moment Eve came to him, tears in her eyes, holding the one fruit that their creator told them they couldn’t have. He knew what had been done. Fear filled him, he doesn’t want to be alone again. He reached his hand out to the fruit and placed it to his lips. The sweet taste of the fruit, the first taste he had of apples. Soon after, they were banished from the very garden they learned from. They had survived. Even with blood marking their way. When he arrived in heaven with Eve following not long after, he had hope that this love would stay. But as the years passed he learned that love will always hurt. Eve left him saying that she never loved him the way he loved her. That it was a different love, a love one would have for a brother.

The third time he felt the twines of love filling him, he shoved it down. He can’t do this again. The day he met Lute was the day they prepared for the exterminations. He saw the parts that he loved in Lilith and in Eve throughout her. Lute held herself with independence and power, but she was also shown to have a gentle hand when it came down to it. He felt drawn to her, hair white as snow and just as fierce. Loving her came as easily as breathing, but so did the fear. She would leave too. So this time he waited. The day she came to him with words on her beautiful lips that he had never heard another speak to him, she promised to stay. He felt the thorn of fear that had pierced his heart, loosen just a bit. He decided to take a chance and let her in.

This time the pain that came with love was not due to the one those affections were for, this time it came from an outer being. Sera made a new rule, let a demon go and you betray heaven. You die as a repercussion. He felt pain in his heart as he learned that others can hurt you in a way that only love can, even if you don’t love them. The threat to Lute’s life, for the life of the other exorcists, cut him just as deep. At least Emily was kind, her gentle hands healing the cuts that covered his body. Her child-like innocence reminded him of his children, of being a dad. He felt that same love light up in his heart for the young seraphim.

When Lilith’s child walks into the meeting room instead of Lucifer, he feels fear. The same fear he had long forgotten gripped his heart. The instinctual feeling of his hand twitching with the urge to reach for his throat. He forced it down, pulling up that familiar mask he hides behind. Charlie was just as stubborn and headstrong as Lilith was. When he learned that she wanted to redeem sinners he felt worry creep into his actions. This was bad. She would be crushed by the heavens before she could even get a single word out. Adam made sure that she would do no such thing.

Even if she was Lilith’s child, she was also the child of Lucifer. An angel that was once kind to him, despite what Lilith did he could still remember those eyes that looked at him with worry. He had to make sure that Lucifer’s child did not fall to the same fate as him. No matter what.

He failed. Charlie was in heaven. She had called for a meeting with the very person he wanted to protect her from. How could Lucifer allow this? He knows what heaven was like. Lute reached out for his hand, and her warmth spread through him, comforting him enough to breathe. That breath soon left him as he made eye contact with Sera, she nodded toward Vaggie. he didn’t want to do this, it was hers to share not his, but he remembered what would come if he didn’t do what was ‘required’. The rest of the meeting went by in a blur. The next thing he knew was words falling from his lips without his prompting. A grey mist surrounded Sera’s hand as he tasted rain on his tongue. “You better save the date cuz we're coming to your hotel first.” He knows that it has to be done. The repercussions will be too much.

As the memories faded he could feel his consciousness do the same. The ground underneath him disappeared, pain seeping away from his bones. It was peaceful at first, but then he opened his eyes one more time. Lute’s face came into view again, her snowy hair tainted with golden blood and dirt. He felt the searing heat from her hand gripping his body, the only thing he could feel. The pain that influenced the twitches and curves of her face, even so he felt relief.

“You stayed.” He forced out. His voice was distant, almost like he did not speak those words. His eyes analyzed as Lute’s expression fell, tears creeping into the crevices of her eyes.

“I always will.” Her voice came out soft and sure. The familiar vibrations of her voice caressed his ears. He felt his emotions settle in his chest for the first time in thousands of years. No fear. No worry.. A calmness covered him like a blanket, warming the edges of his mind.

His breath came out stuttering and short. Long pauses before he could feel the relief of air filling his lungs again. The want to say something more filled him, but his strength dissipated. Words unsaid, but still heard by Lute. She always knew the words he couldn’t force out of his chest and in this moment she listened. Speaking those words back with her eyes and the heart beating within her chest. The very same words his heart spoke. With each thump of his heart, each stuttering breath he conveyed the one thing he wanted her to hear from him. The one thing they spoke to each other in whispered words and gentle actions.

'I love you. '

Note: did you like it??? I'm new to writing so if you have any tips or things that could help please let me know! But don't be mean...

#hazbin hotel adam #hazbin hotel fandom #hazbin hotel lute #adam x lute #lilith is bad #sera is bad #emily is a sweetheart and deserves everything #death #knife wound #angst no comfort #adam has trust issues

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blocksruinedme · 2 years ago

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wip wednesday: burning man au, flower husbands. it's, uh, 1436 words. a fic preview really!

Alright! Once I finish my wips, burning man au is on the damn horizon. High priority, my dudes. This is the scene that spawned probably 100k+ words! Those words still have plenty of jimmy/scott... but a lot of jimmy/joel and etho/joel and mumbo/grian/scar. This scene was going to be a one shot about Jimmy rolling at a rave, that I came up with staring out the window driving home on christmas day, and now there's two authors and... we'll you'll see soon. :)

[edit: well i kept editing more of the wip, and i realized it's 5 months today since i started this who thing and I'm insane that we haven't published anything so here's a preview that is barely shorter than my shortest non-drabble fic.]

My co-author in this grand project is @toasted-cricket, who you can find on ao3 cricket_toast for sfw and toasty_cricket for (excellent) nsfw. (and of course I'm BlocksRuinedMe.) Subscribe to us to make sure you see the AU when it premieres!

Also, here's our playlist! I'm tossing some notes at the end of the post. (I can not believe I have made a second *spotify* for mcyt, this is out of control)

[CONTENT NOTE: drugs (mdma/ecstasy/molly). starts out with jimmy intoxicated, all explicit discussion below the cut].

"Just Keep Following The Heartlines on Your Hand" (working title)

Fic will be rated E but this is just T.

Setting: It's wednesday afternoon at burning man, and scott does not like being in a dusty hot desert, but at least he has a giant derby hat and a smoothie from the disco smoothie theme camp down the road. Suddenly, there's a Jimmy on him!

“Jiiimmy….”

“Hmm?” Jimmy shifted to put more weight, and more of his hip, on top of Scott. They’d been cuddly while drunk at parties a couple of times, but nothing like this.

“Jimmy, did someone give you something special?”

“Scott.” Jimmy moved so he could look directly at Scott, which unfortunately meant he was now fully straddling Scott’s left leg. Jimmy’s face was soft, intent, determined, and even more beautiful than normal. Right.

Jimmy looked at him until he made some private decision, nodded slightly, and began speaking more quickly than Scott had ever heard. “Scott, I really really need to tell you how much I love you. You’re actually so wonderful, and you’re literally so smart and you make me so so so happy, I’m literally so glad to have you in my life, and don’t laugh–” Scott was not laughing “--I know you’ll think, you might think, I don’t know what you’ll think but I hope you won’t think…"

"...it’s not just because I’m on Ecstasy, okay? I love you when I’m sober but it’s scary to say and I really really don’t want to make you uncomfortable but I do, so much, do you understand? I need you to understand.”

Scott let out a breath. This was ridiculous, this was trite. He wasn’t going to be responsible for hours of Jimmy desperately needing to talk about his feelings, that was for Lizzie or someone, but for now?

This was okay for now.

“Yeah, Jimmy, I think I understand. You’re a very loving person, and I’m glad to be your friend.”

The smile that blossomed on Jimmy’s face made Scott feel like the wind *had* been knocked out of him. Jimmy wasn’t normally a tense or stressed person, or he didn’t show it, and he smiled all the damn time, but all the brain chemistry made his face so sweet, so open–and now it was more than just the chemicals, he supposed, because this smile came from what Scott had said.

The words began pouring out of Jimmy in a torrent. Scott could make out everything he said, but he needed to focus–which wasn’t that hard given that Jimmy was both on top of him and staring directly into his eyes.

“Scott, you’re actually so funny, do you know that? Like your Scott humor, which isn’t anyone else’s, it’s really so unique and good?”

Scott nodded and attempted to thank Jimmy, but he didn’t seem to notice.

“Scott, I actually don’t know if you know how good you are? You have–basically a good soul? Yeah, that’s it, and Scott–Scott, maybe you’re too hard on yourself? You’re so good and I know you have high standards, but I’ll tell you, I promise, okay?”

Scott didn’t know what it was Jimmy was promising to tell him, but he was content to let Jimmy have his E word explosion. It was probably his first time, which was generally extra intense. Scott smiled and let Jimmy continue.

“And you’re smart, so much I don’t always know what you’re talking about but you look at things and you understand them literally so quickly. I watch you, sometimes, how you talk to people and how you get information and know what to do so quickly, and I can’t even imagine, I literally can’t imagine. I know that basically everyone here is so much smarter than me, but it’s not like I can tell being good at robots from being great at robots, but Scott you’re good at things and I can tell that you are and wish I could be a little smarter. Do you know, Scott, do you know all the things you’re good at, I bet you don’t, but do you?”

Jimmy did not pause for an answer, Jimmy did not seem to even imagine that Scott might want to talk. Luckily, he didn’t. At least until Jimmy gave him space to.

“And you’re so cute, I know you know that but I want you to know that I know, especially when you’re flirty and I know you flirt with everyone but I really like it? And your smile, and when you chuckle and you smile? Scott –You’re beautiful, you really are, do you know that?

Scott froze, hoping Jimmy would move on from this topic. Quickly.

“I bet you don’t know how beautiful you genuinely are, I bet you don’t let yourself, but you’re perfect and I can actually literally see it and I’d never ever lie to you, okay? I will never ever lie to you no matter what, Scott, I genuinely really wouldn’t, I swear I wouldn’t–”

Jimmy had gone from a look of “the universe is nothing but peace and love” to “very distressed” disorientingly fast - presumably from the idea that Scott was accusing him of lying.

“Hey, hey, Jimmy, it’s okay. I know you wouldn’t.” Scott was limited in what he could do physically while pinned under his very strong (and incredibly attractive friend) but he put his right hand on Jimmy’s cheek, which seemed to stop his sudden distress.

Scott's attempt at calming Jimmy down worked perhaps too well, because he closed his eyes and basically nuzzled Scott’s hand. Everything was getting more intimate than Scott had intended, but Jimmy stopped talking about Scott, which was a great relief.

While Scott was considering what his exit strategy should be, his situation was made much more complicated, (emotionally, logistically, and potentially… other ways), by Jimmy letting himself fall onto Scott. His legs were still straddling Scott’s left leg and the rest of him was draped across Scott’s chest. Most troublingly, his face was turned into Scott’s neck. Scott took some deep breaths to calm down, but just as he thought he was making a bit of progress, Jimmy moved his left hand to cradle Scott’s head. Scott hadn’t been touched that way in many months, and he was considering the merits of pretending to be unconscious when Jimmy resumed talking. Into his neck. Where Scott could feel his breath and almost his lips.

Wonderful.

At least Jimmy couldn’t see his face. Scott decided to just give in, resting his face atop Jimmy’s hair and wrapping his non-pinned arm around Jimmy’s back. He felt so warm, and even though they’d been in the god awful desert for however many days, he somehow smelled good – or at least his hair did.

“And I know you try to play it off sometimes, I really see you Scott, but you’re sweet, you’re so sweet, you’re so good to your friends, and I love you, I really really love you, with literally all my heart. And everyone can see you’re so confident, and I don’t know how much that is–-everyone has doubts, right? But you always keep it together, right? You’re so good at keeping cool Scott, and I appreciate it, I think everyone does, we love you, you’re so good and lovable. But you don’t always have to, okay? Keep it so much together, taking care of everything, everyone. I could take care of you Scott, I really could, I don’t know if anyone does? If you let down all your—your thingies. Masks or walls or whatever. If you ever want, with me, I’ll take care of you and be nice and I’d never judge you, because I love you so much, do you understand? ”

This was maybe less okay. …Definitely less okay. Scott had been around rolling people before, and been included in “i love everyone in the world” pronouncement, and “I love everyone in this bar” equivalents, and a few rounds of “Scott you’re great I love you (as much as many other friends)”. Scott had seen people being perceptive on E, getting that “magic insight”, but he was absolutely not prepared to get something like *this* from *Jimmy*. It’s not that it was hard to guess that confident people sometimes had doubts, but the way Jimmy was talking to him, was looking at him, was… too much. Scott had just wanted a smoothie and a nap and instead Jimmy was trying to see into his soul while straddling his leg and nuzzling his neck.

All Scott could think to do was redirect. “Yes, Jimmy, that’s great, I understand you. I can go be sad at you if I need to.”

Jimmy shifted his weight again and then his hand was on Scott’s cheek. This was an entirely bad idea, this was too intimate in half a dozen ways, Jimmy was being too much, and Scott needed to stop him immediately, to get loose and find someone else to foist Jimmy onto.

He did not.

--------- And that starts off one of the story cycle fics! It's one wednesday at burning man, and to get the full story you have to read from different POVs - y'know, like an smp

Thiss the Jimmy centric one which is def scott pov and def fwhip pov and i'm not sure otherwise. The Joel fic is joel/jimmy and joel/etho and joel/gay panic

There's a Grian fic that's about anxiety, but also Scar and Pearl

There's like 4 others fics that might happen on wednesday. Then there's the story of this community over the next year that will.... it might not be possible for me to write everything I want to write in the time I have but we will see! Ships include: scar/grian/mumbo, soup group, jimmy/scott jimmy/fwhip jimmy/joel, etho/joel, oli/joe... like a lot. It's gonna be great! ----------

So, the playlist!

Cricket and I both love music and have put a lot of energy into trying to get each other to like our music. Sadly, I'm been more successful.

You may notice a lot of Kate Bush, Florence + The Machine and Dessa on here, we have this idea of every fic in the series having a title from a song by one of them, we'll see.

Why songs are on here

- They speak very specifically to a character/group (Hounds of Love by Kate Bush, All This And Heaven To by Florence + The Machine)

- Like a couple lines speak to a character and that’s enough to want it there

- Music we’ve listened to a lot while planning the series (Waterloo by ABBA)

- A vibe we want for a lot of these people over the year because we’re gonna make ‘em all better, one way or another (Level Up by Vienna Teng)

- Good “Burning Man Music” (Halycon + On + On by Orbital, Little Fluffy Clouds by The Orb)

- We don’t fully remember cause we started this au on christmas

- Music that gives me energy to Write Introspective Character Studies

- Y’know, it slaps?

If you want to ask about a specific song, go ahead!

#wip wednesday #shipping #flower husbands #traffic shipping #burning man au #me #my writing #cw: drugs #empireshipping #empires shipping #Just Keep Following The Heartlines on Your Hand #trafficshipping

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flameohotwife · 2 years ago

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2022 Writing Year in Review

Yeah, I know it's 2023 already. I'm just now finding a smidge of time to get to the asks/ask games/etc. that I've gotten bc the holidays have been so busy. Thank you @benwvatt and @chocomd for the tag!

1. Number of stories posted to Ao3: 13! one of those was started in 2021 though with the last chapter of it posted in 2022, so 12 fics (+ one chapter) written entirely in 2022

2. Word count this year: 105,816 according to ao3

3. Fandoms I wrote for: Avatar: The Last Airbender/Avatar: Legend of Korra (which I tag most of my adult kataang stories as, especially if they include cloud-babies or spice, to be safe, even though I know it is between the two series. But tagging adult kataang as only AtLA seems to invite the pedo-accusations, despite the fact that we KNOW Aang and Katara grew up and had babies together which means they did the deed at least a few times, but ya know... that's a rant for another day.)

4. Pairings: Aang/Katara

5. Stories with the most:

Kudos: Unspoken, Undeniable (rated T)

Bookmarks: Growing Pains (rated E)

Comment threads: UU and then GP, because they are both multi-chap stories. After that, though, it was Free as the Wind (rated T) which is still *technically* 2 chapters although I only decided to split it in two at the last minute since it was so long for ease of reading. It is more of a one-shot in my head still.

Word count: UU, definitely, at 44,409 (51,354 if you include the epilogue)

6. Work I’m most proud of (and why): Probably UU, because it was the first ever intentional multi-chap that I planned out, wrote out, and finished, all in the span of this year!

7. Work I’m least proud of (and why): Probably Silence and Sparrowkeets (rated T). I wrote it for kataang week theme quiet moments/healing, and while I still do like a lot of elements of the story that I incorporated, it just falls a little flat for me for some reason.

8. Share or describe a favorite review you received: Some of my favorite reviews this year have been from @kataangisforlovers and @chocomd, because they always manage to see the underlying themes I'm pulling in or the things about the AtLA world that I'm trying to expose (often having to do with canon racism). I cannot express how much I have valued their input, both on ao3 comments and behind the scenes.

9. A time when writing was really, really hard: omg, so many times. I have had a harder time separating from my daily life stressors in order to immerse myself in my writing. Part of that has been guilt over what I *could* be accomplishing instead of writing. And I have been more productive irl. There were also a few times where fandom drama really felt like it was imploding and I wasn't sure I *wanted* to write anymore. And interaction has definitely been lower this year. Overall though I still have things to say about kataang and their relationship and their family and Aang and Katara as individuals with a lot of trauma, so I keep writing when I can.

10. A scene or character you wrote that surprised you: Absolutely hands down the entire second chapter of Free as the Wind. I've said it before, but I did not ever want to go there as an author. It's been done so many times and there are too many cultural elements that I was afraid of misusing or appropriating or being accidentally insensitive about. So I did NOT want to write that ever ever ever. But once I started with the "sneaking off" prompt, thinking it was going to be a sweet and probably a little spicy little one-shot, the characters took me in an entirely different direction and I wound up writing myself into a corner where that was the only way out. I'm still half waiting for an angry comment or dm one day, telling me how I messed it up.

11. A favorite excerpt of your writing: It's long, but I love this mashup of dialogue and introspection from chapter 5 of UU:

“I could sense them still looking at us,” he explained in a whisper. He turned them out of the palace walkway and they continued down the streets of the Inner Ring and out towards their home. “I’m sorry if that was too much, I just wanted…”

“No, it wasn’t too much at all,” she interrupted, trying desperately to quell… whatever it was that was making her body tingle and her heart race and her mind spin. She felt her heart dropping down to the soles of her feet at the realization that this was all for the press. You need to get your feelings back under control, she scolded herself. This was pretend and you know it. “I didn’t realize they were still watching us—good catch.”

“Earthbending,” he said simply and shrugged.

“I know,” she said, feeling incredibly awkward. How was she going to go back to being just his friend when they were alone, now? To go back to not expecting him to kiss her hair or wrap his arm around her or press his body so deliciously against hers…

They finished their walk back to the house in silence. It wasn’t uncomfortable, but it was different. She wasn’t sure where they stood or what he was thinking, and she was afraid to ask. He walked her to her door, and things started to feel almost normal again when he leaned down for a hug. “Thanks again, Katara. For everything,” he murmured in her ear. She shivered.

“Anytime, Aang. Goodnight,” she said as she walked into her room and closed the door. She exhaled heavily and pressed her forehead against the ornate wood, not knowing that Aang was doing the exact same thing on the other side.

12. How did you grow as a writer this year: I think I learned to show more, and to be more descriptive of the scenery and surroundings. I'm still working on it, but I think I did better than last year!

13. How do you hope to grow next year: I hope to be able to add more metaphor, symbolism, and overall meaning into said descriptions. I am also hoping to branch out and write out of my comfort zone a bit (maybe something that is not kataang/aang/katara centric? Maybe original fiction? WHO KNOWS). I was hoping to use fic-writing to kind of run the rust off the rails of my writing skills and get back to writing original fiction or creative non-fiction, which had been my life's dream and something I studied for a bit in school, but that takes a kind of bravery and vulnerability I'm not sure I have in me, yet.

14. Who was your greatest positive influence this year as a writer (could be another writer or beta or cheerleader or muse etc etc):

@coyotelemon was my beta for UU and absolutely pushed me to grow in ways I could not have without her help. The number of times she had to write "PAINT MOAR" in the comments of my googledoc because I had completely left out the details, and the number of ideas she came up with when I was stuck show the sheer impact she had on this work, and I could not have done it without her <3

15. Anything from your real life show up in your writing this year: Absolutely. Ties That Bind (rated G), my Katara Week piece for the prompt "Katara and her family" included a lot of elements of parenting and connecting with family that I have experienced in my own life. But pieces of my life show up in all areas of my writing.

16. Any new wisdom you can share with other writers: I don't think I have any *new* wisdom. Just keep reading, keep writing, and keep experimenting with those elements you love from your favorite stories. Don't be afraid to research and take risks. And find your people who will help you and cheer you on when you're feeling discouraged.

17. Any projects you’re looking forward to starting (or finishing) in the new year: I'd really like to write that kataang/cloud-babies mixed race fic. I have bits and pieces, but as I've stated before what's really holding me back is research. Fingers crossed!

18. Tag some writers whose answers you’d like to read: I know it's 2023 now, but if you're so inclined... @coyotelemon, @shameaboutthedilettantism, @anervoussapphic, @itsmoonpeaches, @juicypersimmon, @cats-and-metersticks, @northerngoshawk... or anyone else who wants to do it!

#2022 writing year in review #ao3 stats 2022 #ask game

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goddesspharo · 1 year ago

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if i may: ✦ and ♡ [any fic you’d like]?

✦ what was your easiest fic to write & your hardest?

I'm going to go with the ao3 era because I'm definitely not looking through LJ. Although I will say I was certainly more prolific re: volume in those halcyon days, particularly for Gossip Girl and House (of all things!...as if I was not obsessed with that show for at least the first two seasons) - God, that perfect storm of excellence that the S2 finale with House getting shot leading to Cuddy and Wilson putting House in a Ketamine coma without his consent and then S3 beginning with him running??? CHEF'S KISS. Even though that show went batshit crazy later on, the mileage from some of those storylines was highway level. This show was at its best when everyone around House was doing ethically dubious things in an attempt to get him to stop doing ethically questionable things.

But to answer the actual question: I almost never think any fic is easy while I'm writing it and questioning my decision to write anything at all, but some involve less hair pulling than others. There was a period after The Batman where I got into a nice little groove (after not writing any fic for a good five years, apparently) of feeling like the floodgates opened and I wanted to write tomes, which probably has more to do with loving Matt Reeves' distinctive Selina voice. (The effortless baby to this hot mess of a socially awkward dude she met four seconds ago works only because Zoe Kravitz has confidence for miles.) I think living in a rhythm where the minute's working overtime was relatively easy to write (and shorter after the two previous 10k+ fics I'd written) - it felt easy, breezy while I was writing it and I had a good time.

I'm always inclined to say that the hardest fic is whatever I'm currently working on because it's not over, but in this case, I'm going with against the grain of dystopic claims. As a person who almost never posts WIPs, I'm not sure why I decided a Top Gun Maverick apocalypse AU was the perfect time to start, but I probably would've relegated it to languishing half-finished in my google docs if I hadn't posted it as a WIP so maybe past me knew the only way to get it done was to have external accountability? It was hard to write because I vaguely knew where I was going with it when I started writing it and then had to actually follow through with PLOT that made sense and couldn't go back and change things that I had previously set up. It did force me to make an outline for the current WIP just to avoid that JJ Abrams life, you know?

♡ pick a fic and I’ll pick a comment that made me really happy

Any time a person comments on fic, it makes me happy. There's nothing like that rush when you get one of those [AO3] comment e-mails because it makes you feel like you're not screaming into the void! Of course I agree with the adage that you should write for yourself, but you're also to an extent writing for others (or else you'd never post it, right?) so it's nice when you hear something back. Then it becomes a game of catch instead of throwing a baseball into a tornado and hoping that it'll return someday. I love when people leave lengthy comments with pull quotes and how things made them feel or why certain bits worked for them, but it's also really nice when you get a comment years later with people telling you they still love something you wrote. (Those comments where people are talking about re-reading your stuff? LOVELY.) All of this is a long-winded way to say that if you've ever commented on anything I've written, know that it has probably made me really happy even if it was a sentence.

[ask me about fic!]

#ask me things #we can pretend there is a thought process behind any of this

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a-study-in-dante · 1 year ago

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WIP titles game!

Thank you @lithugraph for tagging me!

Rules: post the names of all the files in your WIP folder, regardless of how non-descriptive or ridiculous. Let people send you an ask with the title that most intrigues them, and then post a little snippet or tell them something about it! and then tag as many people as you have WIPs.

Oh boy, this is gonna be a long one but I'm so, so excited. (I'll list them all, even if I've begun to post some of them, just for clarity and shameless self-promoting, but won't include the rewrite/2.0 /translated versions I have in mind and/or in the WIP folder). PS: I'm so pissed my computer changed the creation dates of ALL the files when I transfered them on it, because I would have included that. Some of these have been going on for far too long.

Hetalia

Ambassy AU. (The document starts with We need a damn title.) PruAus. Oneshot. 2 pages so far.

AU Pianiste. PruAus. 7 pages so far, no idea if this is a multichapter or oneshot.

(Realized an article's bibliography is saved in the WIPs folder oops lemme just change that real quick)

C'est la faute à Voltaire. FrUK. Empty document.

Champagne in Amsterdam. Ensemble cast but mostly Romano/Belgium. Long oneshot, so far 10 pages.

Château de cartes. PruAus. Fun fact: I ended up using that title for the renaming of my (only) RusPru, originally titled You give love a bad name, when I decided to post it on AO3. So yeah, need another title for this one. 2 paragraphs.

Fine dell'estate. Spamano! Started posting it last year.

Golden Sixties Are You Lonesome Tonight. FrUK. Oneshot, 2 pages so far.

Golden Sixties It's Now or Never. Spamano, Oneshot, 13 pages so far.

Golden Sixties Love Me Tender. PruAus. Oneshot, 2 pages so far.

(Those three are indeed part of a serie, I just listed them separately because this is now the official inventory of my WIPs documents™)

I bet you look good on the dancefloor (also known as Flat White and Barristas for some reason). Spamano. Three drabbles written.

I miss you (which is actually just the first line of the doc, was too lazy to come up with a title). PruAus. One dialogue so far.

I'll take the rain. PruAus. One shot, 2 pages so far.

Moderato Cantabile. PruAus, ongoing (I promise!) publication on AO3!

Nave Espacial. Spamano. 1 page.

Not another teen movie. PruAus. 3 sentences.

Old. PruAus. 4 paragraphs.

OS Noël. I think that's SuFin??? 4 lines.

Patria - PruAus aka Zeitgeist. PruAus. This is technically Patria's 13th chapter, but it was always my intention to publish it as a stand alone oneshot as well. And since it's already 32 pages long (Patria is 65 pages long so far) and I'd say it's only half of it, it looks like an even better idea!

Patria. Spamano. Ongoing publication on FF and AO3 since forever/2018.

Pirates AU. I don't even know!!! It stars England though. 2 paragraphs.

Quatre mots sur un piano. PruAusHun, this is one of my oldest projects and I can't see myself actually writing it. 5 pages.

Renaissance. Spamano. Multichapters but like 5 max (initially planned 3). 30 pages so far. First two parts available on FF.

The Berlin File Die Berlin-Akte aka The Berlin File. PruAus. Publication started on both FF and AO3, this is one of my oldest WIPs: I started this on the drafts of my phone in 2015 🙃

The Winds Are Shifting. Spamano. Also one of my oldest WIPs, even though I only wrote a paragraph so far. Oh, and wrote it as a sonnet titled Tourne le vent (which is still in my WIP folder too btw) for an assignment in first year of uni.

Vincere Tenebras. PruAus. One shot probably, 3 pages so far.

Stucky/MCU

Damn the Weather. Stucky, ongoing publication on AO3!

The Void. MCU, but mostly Stucky. Ongoing publication on AO3!

Bagginshield

Bagginshield. Lolz. 6 pages, probably multi-chaps.

Misc.

00Q - Hunt-Brandt. This is a cross over. Guess the pairings lol. Multichapters, 11 pages so far.

Hymne à l'absent. Enjoltaire. One-shot, 3 pages so far.

Selfindulgent Dark Academia Short Story. Need I say more? Exclusively OC. Inspired by my fall-winter semester in Cambridge. 2 pages so far.

You've Lost That Loving Feeling. Ethan Hunt - William Brandt (Mission: Impossible franchise), it's on AO3 and I SWEAR I'll finish it. Some day.

Waiting for asks lovely people (please)

And tagging @like-a-bucky !

#Tagged #I've been tagged!#Writing stuff #Writeblr #my posts

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nancyheart11 · 11 months ago

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vbhjasbhkjbka I got tagged by 2 amazing writers!!! thank you @skyward-floored @ajscico

1. How many works do you have on ao3?

9! (though i have one i'm planning to post tomorrow ;)

2. What’s your total ao3 word count?

54,472! though without others words in Dad squad it's closer to 45,000

3. What fandoms do you write for?

Legend of Zelda and linkeduniverse mostly these days. Occasionally write a tiny bit for Danny Phantom

4. What are your top five fics by kudos?

The Blush of Dawn My longest fic by far and the one that made me get into writing fic for the first time since middle school! It's about Twi getting turned into a shadow beast :)

Baby Breeze A tooth rotting fluffy fic featuring De-aged Wind and Big-bro Twilight. Was supposed to be a one-shot and whoops now i need to come up with a third chapter XD

Warriors nervous breakthrough What if Warriors had such bad nerve damage from the war it caused problems? also featuring a fun hc for the beginnings of the Yiga.

A hero hiding in Wolf's clothes My Wolf form reveal to the Ordon family fic! Colin is so sweet that it has stumped me on how to move the plot forward for months.

The Many Misadventures of Dad Squad The fic that I expected to be #1 quite honestly, mostly written by the wonderful @skyloftian-nutcase! it's got slightly possesed son/god Dad, tired of everything Dad, and Farmer/Renegade Dad!

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

Yes!! I love love love comments and i'll tell you right you kudos and comments are the only reason i'm going to finish Blush, since they remind me people enjoy my thoughts and efforts!

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

Probably the Dad Squads chapter where Rusl passes out thinking that his son is in chains or muzzled while feeling like a burden to the other Dads. Could also be a 3 sentence fic lol.

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

Sky's encounter with kitten kind which is so fluffy it has Comfort/No hurt as a tag

8. Do you get hate on fics?

no, I have gotten weird comments, but they are just people who are really excited about things.

9. Do you write smut?

Nope! and i'm not planning to start

10. Do you write crossovers?

Yep! usually Dp x Dc since those are the writing prompts I see cross my Dash.

11. Have you ever had a fic stolen?

I don't think so?

12. Have you ever had a fic translated?

also no, though i would explode with happiness if that ever happened.

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

Yep! the Dad Squad series is a fun mashing pot of different amazing Writers (Lofty definitely does the most writing for it because she's an amazing writer with brilliant ideas)

14. What’s you’re all-time favorite ship?

this year has been Rusl and Uli all the way, but a romance that i adore would have to be Galen and Rose from Princess of the midnight ball.

15. What’s the wip you want to finish but doubt you ever will?

A funky 1000 words of pure emotional hurt I wrote at 3 am on a bad night.

16. What are your writing strengths?

Emotions i think. I love writing the way your stomach swoops from a drop or your throat goes tight and hot and heavy with shame :)

17. What are your writing weaknesses?

everything else.

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

I think it would be really cool! I am not confident in my ability to do it at all though.

19. First fandom you wrote for?

Does my Dad's old DnD campaigns count? if not either Harry Potter or DP (luckily those fics will never see the light of day cause oof they made no sense)

20. Favorite fic you’ve ever written?

I love Blush of Dawn but don't want to annoy people with my ideas when i could be ... finishing the fic so they can read them in a more engaging form with clearer flow.

no pressure tags @unexpectedstormy @hermitdrabbles56 @telemna-hyelle @gemglyph and anyone else who wants to!

20 questions for fic writers

Tagged by @the-real-azalea-scroggs! Had to wait until I was of my phone because doing these is a nightmare on mobile lmao

1. How many works do you have on A03?

18 as of a few days ago!

2. What's your total A03 word count?

60,763! Which is. Only a fraction of the word count in my Docs folder. Be prepared.

3. What fandoms do you write for?

I mainly write for The Legend of Zelda; specifically Linked Universe! In fact, that's all that's posted on my Ao3 currently, since my fall into that fandom began with me uploading there! Pre-Ao3 I wrote for Black Cat (Anime/Manga), Megaman NT Warrior, various Pokémon things, Assassin's Creed, Yugioh, Final Fantasy XIV and Octopath Traveler! Some of these I still write privately, but I haven't gotten around to re-posting any.

4. What are your top five fics by kudos?

Whistling on Deaf Ears - My longest fic on Ao3, focusing on Wild and Twilight's friendship and how good intentions can lead to disaster.

Iconoclasm - Warriors deals with the room full of portraits in Cia's palace. The Chain also deals with it, but with a bit more fire.

Deserving - Twilight finally tells Rusl that he was the wolf in the village during TP, but that also means dealing with some heavier topics. Colin half overhears them and forms his own conclusions.

Something Greater - The start of the "Hyrule can see magical auras" series! In this one we deal with Legend and his many rings.

Ocean Magic - Mermaid Legend and Zora Time have a race and then fight one of the Big Octos from WW! Fun times.

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

Every single one!! I love comments, they give me an excuse to ramble about my fic more!! I am always down to ramble about every single insignificant detail of any line and/or section. If you ever want more background info about one of my fics, look to the comments! So please, I adore comments, I treat them like treasures, not responding to them would be a CRIME.

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

There's no contest; Inevitable, my (so far) only MCD fic.

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

Hmmm, that's hard to quantify. I usually try to end fics on a hopeful note regardless. I'd say possibly either Deserving, where Twilight reconnects with his family, or Shimmering Blue, Striking White, where Time meets the Fierce Deity settled down on Satori Mountain and they both get closure.

8. Do you get hate on fics?

Thankfully, no! I've been blessed with mostly amazing and patient readers, even when my upload schedule isn't the best.

9. Do you write smut?

No, not really. I've attempted it, but I'm too asexual for it lol

10. Do you write crossovers?

Very, very rarely. Mostly privately, and only very specific ones. Only a single one has had an actual plot, so far (more on that one in question 15!).

11. Have you ever had a fic stolen?

Nope!

12. Have you ever had a fic translated?

Also a nope! I tend to write for smaller fandoms, where these things don't tend to happen a lot!

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

I have! But it's been a while. Over a decade, in fact! I tried to find the fic to link it here, but it was on the German fanfic website fanfiktion.de, and my friend who posted it back then must have deactivated her account, because it's nowhere to be seen (I still have the Word file though!). It was a Multi-Crossover that started as an RP in a forum, and we took turns turning the RP into prose one chapter each. "If a Hero Turns to Dark" was its title. We were edgy teenagers.

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

Hissssss. Bad question. Shoo. They are all equally important!! But it's probably TenRose from Doctor Who.

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

One of the very few crossovers I've ever worked on; a crossover fic between Assassin's Creed and Doctor Who, that I have mapped out in both chronological and timeline order, and yes, those are different. I only ever wrote about a quarter of it, since my primary audience of it disappeared when we graduated. I doubt I'll ever pick it back up properly, and if I do it'll probably go through heavy rewrites first since it's so old. Finishing it is a nice thought, but realistically, after 9 years it'll never be high priority enough for it to actually happen.

16. What are your writing strengths?

Dialogue, especially arguments, and emotional impact. I've been told I do really well making characters feel alive and believable! Also I like to believe I'm decent at setting a scene and giving it the vibe I want it to have!

17. What are your writing weaknesses?

I struggle with dialogue tags when nothing much is happening besides the talking. I always feel it's too bland, and fall back on the same phrases. My scene transitions could use some work too.

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

I've done this with Japanese phrases, because I was a massive weeb. Usually I followed them up with their own translations, though; I'm not the biggest fan of footnote translations, unless they are properly linked to. Simple dialogue tags are my favourite way of indicating a language switch.

19. First fandom you wrote for?

Black Cat the Manga/Anime! It's a series about an assassin turned bounty hunter trying to live a life separate from his murdery past, but getting dragged back into things by still wanting to avenge his best friend's death. The series has a special place in my heart and my bookshelf, it left an imprint on 13-year-old me that will never leave.

20. Favourite fic you've ever written?

Probably Jailbreak, uncharacteristically enough! It's one of the only fics I never got stuck in once. Writing it was a great feeling from start to finish. I love writing all of my fics, but that was a special few days.

Tagging @ahrva @nowhere-to-go-but-down @silvercaptain24 and @aeghina! And anyone who wants to do it, really, go wild

#tag game #long post #nan writes #nanrambles

58 notes · View notes

the-witches-you-couldnt-burn · 3 years ago

Text

It started with a whisper

I originally wrote ‘Like I did with you’ as a one-shot but people wanted a sequel. This turned out to be waaaaay longer than expected (4.7k word count). Inspired by Everybody Talks by Neon Trees. I hope you lot enjoy!

Ao3

(Also this is Mari’s new outfit, all credits go to the original artist)

————

Two teens stood upon the balcony of a large banquet hall, exposed to the midsummer night air. The sky was a lilac blanket that hung over the Parisian buildings, speckled with glowing stars. The moon, with it’s crescent smile, beamed down of the young couple.

Hey, baby, won't you look my way?

Marinette’s eyes were closed as she rested her head upon his shoulder, relaxing after the night’s rapid escalation. Tonight she had arrived at the ball with the intent to be there for her friends, but somehow she found herself within the arms of Gotham’s (and probably Paris’) Ice Prince. She had overheard his nickname from the Gotham students, one of which being Jon, who was in the middle of mocking the young Wayne. She had never considered that nickname as suitable; sure he was temperamental & had a tendency to snap, but icey to the core? No.

I can be your new addiction

Damian was calm. For the first time in his life he felt like he could take a breath. His exhale was carried off by a small gust of wind, the bush over hanging the stone railing rustled. With his inhale, the scent of Marinette’s perfume became present once more. Mixed with the crisp night’s air, her usual scent of pastries was mixed with what could only be described as ambrosia. His phone vibrated within his pocket, it was never on volume due to the potential risk it caused during his heroic activities.

“Shit.” Notifications covered his screen, multiple tweets, Instagrams and Tiktoks in which he had been tagged in. But the alert came from his family’s private messaging chat. The whole thread was a shit storm, Grayson and Todd’s messages were completely capitalised (he learnt years ago this meant ‘to yell’ in writing form) and both had multiple ‘keyboard spasms’. Drake, like the thorough detective he is, had combed through the images and videos, investigating their validity. His honorary sisters had replied with ‘awwwww’(s) and ‘Omg we MUST meet this girl! I need to know how she tamed the demon!’. He could practically hear Brown’s shrill voice from across the ocean.

Hey, baby, what you gotta say?

No reply from his father or Alfred. The two of them were the only semblance of ‘normal’ paternal figures he had within his life, after the sham of a relationship he had previously held with his grandfather. Their silence unnerved him.

Marinette had noticed his attention had shifted to his phone, her own mobile was buzzing away within her baby pink purse. Messages, notifications of account tagging and comments galore. A sigh left her lips when she saw her parents seemed to be none the wiser. Good, she didn’t need to deal with future adoration for ‘The boy who swept our daughter off of her feet’ (or something along those lines).

Her cheeks regained some of the warmth they held before as she thought of her parent’s reaction. Scrolling through her Twitter she saw her friends had posted multiple images of the night’s events, majority being her shared dance.

Chloé Bourgeois @TheBestBourgeois

what kind of Disney shit is this? (Insert video of two teens dancing around an mostly empty dance floor.)

Alix Kubdel @Sk8trGirl

Replying to @TheBestBourgeois

I KNOW RIGHT?! THEY WERE FUCKING FLOATING!!!

All you're giving me is fiction

She was thankful that they hadn’t tagged her but she hadn’t been spared by others in attendance. Her post thread had blown up, thousands had commented and even more had viewed the evidence. There was no way she would come out of this unscathed.

“Has anyone been on Twitter today?” The blonde of the family asked as she walked into the dining room. Her eyes focused on her scrolling screen, brows furrowed in confusion. “Actually has anyone seen what’s happening on any of our socials?”

It was early in the afternoon and the family had recently returned home after a straining stakeout. The Joker had broken out of Arkham and the Batfam had to deal with his minions. Dick’s arm was in a sling (sprained from a grapple gone wrong), Jason was icing his hand, Alfred was stitching Bruce’s chest wounds while Tim and the girls escaped without severe injuries. All were still recuperating and finally able to recharge.

Alfred always enforced a strict ‘no devices at the dinner table’ rule; no matter how urgent it was, it could wait until after sustenance was consumed. Tim strongly opposed this, but there was no arguing with Agent A. This all surmises that probably no one had seen the crap storm on social media.

I'm a sorry sucker and this happens all the time

Bruce sighed, bringing his free arm up to rub his eyes. Tilting his head back to look at Steph, “Who was it this time?” Barbara quickly took out her phone to see what Stephanie was talking about, all the while glancing accusingly at Dick and Jason. Both of whom held up their arms (or in Dick’s case arm), declaring their innocence.

“It wasn’t fucking me!”

“Jason! Language!” Dick shot a glare at Jason and was met with one in return. “It wasn’t me either.”

“Then who-“ Bruce started before being cut off by his most rambunctious daughter.

I found out that everybody talks

Stephanie with a squeal, exclaimed that it was Damian. Visions of what the Wayne brat could have done flashed through the heads of everyone in the room. He had been sent overseas before the quarantines and lockdowns hit. During Damian’s first month in France he had been forced into online schooling and then finally when he got to go to in-person classes he hated it. Described the class as a kindergarten with petty and vindictive toddlers.

Had he broken someone’s arm? Was that person of such importance that it had spread over multiple social media platforms? France’s government had announced on June 15th, that teens were now being inoculated so him having COVID-19 was doubtful. Had he insulted the wrong person? Had he taken over the government? He certainly had the potential.

Everybody talks, everybody talks

What they saw stunned them, even Steph as she watched it for the 7th time. Damian Wayne was dancing. But not only that, he was dancing with a girl.

It started with a whisper

“What is this shit?”

No one verbally objected to Jason’s outburst but he was sent a harsh glare from Alfred, Dick and Bruce. Their focus soon returned to the images and videos before them. Babs’ and Steph’s phones were returned to them as the others ran to grab their own devices. They all met back at the table, comparing the posts and comparing their notes.

I can hear the chitchat

“There’s no way this can be real.”

“Jesus Tim,” Barbara rolls her eyes, “have you seen the amount of posts there are? You’d be an idiot to think otherwise.”

Take me to your love shack

“I’m with Tim, how do we know this isn’t some skit. I mean, Demon Spawn almost looks normal. That’s a matter of concern.” He almost dry heaved when he agreed with Tim. Damian couldn’t be capable of naturally exuding that amount of humanity unless there was something in it for him.

Mamas always gotta backtrack

“I was just saying Babs, that we should check the credibility of these images. For all we know they could be gorilla glued together and trying to get unstuck.” Tim cringed at his own reasoning, he really needed to either sleep (probably not going to happen anytime soon) or find his favourite coffee brand (which had been one of the first to vanish after the covid hoarders appeared).

When everybody talks back

Dick was too busy freaking out and spam messaging the youngest Wayne, to defend Damian’s humanity. The family saw this and followed suit, wanting to get information from the source.

Chat name: Alfred supremacy

BigBird: AHHHHHH DAMIAN!

BigBird: YOU LOOK SO CUTE!!!

BigBird: HAIFJDNDNFI

LittleWing: WTF HAPPENED DEMON SPAWN YOU LOOK ALMOST HUMAN

Babs: who knew the city of love would influence the brat

Blondie: they are so cuteeeeeee!

Blondie: We HAVE to meet her!

Silent-but-deadly: agreed.

Timbo: YO DEMON

Timbo: Apparently the videos are legit

Timbo: are you being blackmailed?

And it just devolved into more chaos from there, fueled by the fact that they saw Damian’s ‘Blood Son’ account appear online before vanishing once more. Dick shrieked, “I FOUND HER ACCOUNT!”

The family gathered around the eldest son, peering over his shoulder to view his iPhone 12max screen. They saw a young girl’s Instagram account. It was locked but they could see her profile pic, the girl had black hair and looked to be if Asian decent. They compared it to the videos but it was hard to see due to the hall’s lighting and the minimised facial features of the pfp. Alfred suggested that they search up her username and see who has tagged her, some might have other photos of her.

After research for awhile, the family began to get frustrated with lack of results.

Hey honey you could be my drug

You could be my new prescription

“Come on!” Jason complained, “What kind of teenage girl doesn’t post her life online?” He ignored the girls glares and went back to researching. How had the account by the name of ‘mariiiiinette’ to managed to prevent the entire Wayne clan from accessing it? Damn Instagram privacy settings. He groaned, dragging a hand down his face, “We are fucking stupid. Why don’t we just use the Bat-computer? It would be so much fucking easier.”

“It shouldn’t be used for civilian issues-“

Too much could be an overdose

“The girl could be a meta for all we know! We aren’t safe until we know who she is.” Jason points a finger at Tim, his paranoia flared up and even though he would never admit it, Jason would do anything to protect each member of his family (although Bruce is still debatable).

All this trash talk make me itching

Barbara and Tim took their usual positions as Oracle and Red Robin (who had been banned from patrol due to lack of sleep). The rest of the Batfam stood behind them either with arms crossed or still failing at researching.

Oh my my shit

“The account is owned by a girl called Marinette Dupian-Cheng. She is French-Chinese and her parents own a popular bakery. Also if it wasn’t already obvious, she goes to Collège Françoise Dupont, aka Damian’s French school.” Tim begun informing his nosy family, “But this account has been inactive for the past 6 months, which is strange due to her frequent posting schedule before hand. It seems she probably has a second account and this is her old one.”

Everybody talks, everybody talks

“Not only that,” Barbara interrupted. “There are unopened messages from other accounts that accuse her of being a bully. There is a whole Facebook page about this girl and how she has been hurting her old friends, but neither side seems reliable. The so called victims seem to be twisting the truth but there is barely any information about Marinette so we can’t disprove it either.”

“Read out some of the messages.” Bruce took a cup of coffee from Alfred and sipped it.

The main screen of the bat computer displayed a Facebook group with the banner picture being a photo of Marinette. “They are mostly complaints expected of teen girls when there is a girl they don’t like; ‘Marinette is such a know-it-all’, ‘She is constantly insulting Lila’s intelligence’. They go on to talk about how Marinette was briefly expelled from the Collège before being reinstated by the principle for a reason unknown to them.”

Everybody talks too much

“Her school reports up until this year were good. The newest one states, ‘While Marinette is a wonderful and bright student, I encourage her to settle her disagreements outside of class. This seems to only be a recent occurrence and I implore her to go to the guidance council if she is in need of help.’” A beat of silence echoes through the cave, Tim sighed. “Jason’s meta theory could be correct. She could have just recently started exhibiting her abilities and using them to get what she wants.”

“Bruce what do you want to do?”

“We’re going to Paris.”

She opened her eyes to the blaring morning light that streamed through the blinds. Her lashes still painted with mascara that refused to leave. She felt a pang of sorrow when she was removing her makeup and dress last night, she never wanted the night to end. She shuffled down the stairs to the kitchen, covering her mouth when she yawned. She greeted her mother as she entered the kitchen to get breakfast.

She glanced at her phone and there was the chaos that was started hours ago and it was still occurring. It was the weekend, she wouldn’t need to deal with her classmates until Monday. But she would still have to survive her parent’s interrogation. Out of the corner of her eye she caught her mother smirking at her.

Everybody talks

“Nadja told me some interesting news about last night.” Marinette held her breath, glaring at the toaster, willing it to hurry up so she could escape. “Well,” Sabine patted her shoulder before rubbing Mari’s back. “I know you didn’t want to go but I hope you had fun.”

With that she exited the kitchen, probably going to help her father in the bakery. The ravenette stared after her, eye widened in shock, jumping when the toaster went off. Buttering her toast she went over the conversation, her brows furrowed in confusion. She had expected a ‘When do I get to meet the oh so famous prince?’ or ‘Should I be expecting a new guest sometime in the near future?’ or at least a ‘Who was that young man, Bǎozàng (宝藏 it means treasure)?’ But she said nothing.

A small smile was plastered upon her face as she changed and went down to help her parents in the bakery. Her father didn’t say anything either, he gave her a knowing smile before continuing to kneed the dough. She sat at the the store front as the cashier whilst her parents were busy making ‘Paris’s Finest Pastries’.

Her musings slowly faded as she was brought back to reality by badly hushed whispers. Two young preteens were by the bread roll casing near the door. She had seen them come in before with their parents, the girls went to the prestigious international school over in the 16th arrondissement. The one with purple hair kept whispering to the brunette, both ‘subtly’ glancing towards her. Using her enhanced hearing she listened in on their conversation.

“That’s her, I swear that’s her in the video.”

The blonde’s face soured likes she sucked on a lemon. “No, it wasn’t good lighting there is no way he would dance with someone like her.”

Everybody talks

Marinette had tough skin but their words had an impact, only a small one due to her defence mechanism of repressing emotions. She stopped listening and went back to drawing in her sketchpad, she was in desperate need of a new school outfit.

The two girls eventually came up to the counter, goods in hand. Marinette rung up and bagged their items (paper because save the turtles sksksk) in a tired daze. A phone was shoved into her face, her eyes barely adjusted to view the screen before the blonde spoke.

“Is this your instagram?” She asked in a tone so snobbish that it should be illegal from a person her age. Marinette finally was able to view the screen that was barely an inch from her face. Her old Instagram ‘mariiiiinette’ was displayed on screen, she hesitantly nodded, gaze flicking back to the two in front of her.

The blonde’s nose scrunched up and the purple goth girl squealed in delight. They soon after left the store, their conversation had devolved into ‘See! I told you’ and ‘Yeah, yeah. You were right.’

Walking to school on Monday, she had finally come down from cloud nine. She still rode the tail end of her high as she rushed along her path to her campus, she wasn’t going to be late but she sure wasn’t going to be early. She had spent the better part of the weekend designing and sewing a brand new outfit. Her new look was composed of a black cropped singlet (L'amour gagne hemmed into it and it’s straps), paired matching peach plaid cropped overshirt and a-line miniskirt. Her hair was down, ballet flats were worn and her makeup was the usual with the added edition of a rose gold eyeshadow.

Even though her face was covered in a black and gold mask, she looked hot.

She reached the campus and the whispers started again, people were still buzzing from Friday night. Her classmates, the majority of her grade and the younger years seemed to gossiping before class about the formal’s events. She couldn’t spot any of her friends or the two Gotham transfers, so she was stuck listening the the chitchat. Why couldn’t she have been late like usual?

Damian had a fowl disposition and it showed in multiple icey glares (and that was before he even reached the collège). His family had made their appearance known in Paris at 1am Sunday morning. He could have used his dorm to escape but his family didn’t have the word ‘privacy’ within their vocabulary. He didn’t want to have to pay for a lock replacement due to his brothers’ (most likely Todd with Drake & Grayson laughing at him) lock picking habit.

The Ice Prince was back with full force. He had just been... influenced by all the other couples. Yes he did respect Dupain-Cheng and he appreciated her company & pleasant conversations. He would struggle to hide a small smile at the memory of the dance, even if he denied himself the happiness of normality, he felt content when reminiscing.

“Ooo the Ice Prince is here, did he have a fight with his princess or something?” The voice seemed to mock him.

“The Disney Magic is gone. The demon is back.”

Everybody talks

At the second jeer he shot a glare at the perpetrator. Jon held his hands up in an ‘I surrender manner’, laughing as he joined Damian at his side. The two entered the school’s large foyer and looked to see if any of the classes were open yet. Sadly they weren’t, before he was wrong and the his class was plain torture but this was truely hell.

He saw Dupain-Cheng sitting alone on the stairs, drawing within her sketchpad. He wondered how a girl like her, who always seemed to be involved in other’s lives (for the better) was ignoring all of the comments about her. She felt his focus centre on her, eyes flicking up to meet his, she provided him with a small wave before continuing to draw.

Jon nudged him with an elbow to his ribs and dragged him off to the side, into the boy’s locker rooms. Jon scowled at the door, “It’s a mad house out there. You’ve heard what some people are saying right?”

“Why would I care about these imbeciles?”

Jon jabbed Damian in the chest, causing the demon to stumble. Green eyes darted from blue eyes to the tan finger. “You care when lies hurt people you care about.”

The day began to rapidly decline once the two dance partners took their seats, next to each other. They had both been placed up the back of the class and them sitting together hadn’t been a problem until now apparently. She wasn’t even safe when the teacher started their lecture, whispers and glances were cast towards them. Once the two got to biology it was better, Ms Mendeleiev was a strict teacher and was able to control the class.

Everybody talks

But the recess came. When the bell rang she slowly started packing up her equipment, Alix and Max (who she shared biology with) waited for her; she watched as the Ice Prince left through the door. She knew she didn’t need to be concerned about her friends joining in with the gossiping, if anything they would dispel people and tell them to ‘Mind their own fucking business’ because this whole situations is ridiculous, utterly ridiculous.

She did receive some slight teasing from Alix about being a Disney princess, but Marinette quipped back about the skater’s fairytale story being ‘Pinknette, the Geek and the Beast’. The three met up with the other two of their group, they had just come from geography. Kim was complaining that Argentina was a state in America.

“That’s Arkansas you idiot!” Chloe shrieked, lightly hitting his arm with her white handbag. Max held his head in his hand as he approached, how had his tutoring sessions failed so badly?

Chloe turned to Marinette, a smile forming from her glare. The blonde examined the designer’s clothing, nodding. “You look like you are about to have a hot girl summer.”

Marinette’s face burned, the tips of her ears coated in red. Alix chuckled and nudged her shoulder.

Everybody talks

“Look at her, she is so desperate for his attention that she probably copied those designs.”

“Why do you think he danced with her anyways? Maybe she has something on him? I mean, she forces him to sit next to her in class, who knows what else she has done.”

What. The. Fuck.

Chloe glowered towards Lila’s posy. “We have a fucking seating plan, those cretins-“ She made a motion to storm over but was caught by the ravenette, looking back to Mari, her rage decreased from a boil to a simmer.

“No Chlo. It’s fine, it’s not worth it.”

Everybody talks... back

The group walked out to the school’s front steps, it was a mad house... a mad courtyard? Students sitting on the stairs, on the grass and standing around mingling, all of them now were staring at her. She held her backpack close to her chest (she had swapped her signature coin-bag purse for the pastel pink bag), pretending its a shield. Her friends circled around her becoming an obstacle to prevent their stares. If people were afraid of a scowling Kim then they don’t know the scorn of Chloe or Alix’s bite. And Max, sweet quiet Max.... you better hope he doesn’t have blackmail on you (he probably does), he can dismantle your life with a single anonymous post.

Rushed footsteps approached them. The group was broken apart by a rude Wayne boy, he swept Mari away from the school and the gossip crowds within. Her four friends shouted at him and he kept walking, shooting a glare at them in response. He kept pushing Marinette forward with a hand placed on the small of her back, her backpack was now swung over his other shoulder.

They ended up in her favourite alcove. She had brought him here with the other Gotham transfers for a native’s tour of Paris. It had always been her safe place to be creative.

It started with a whisper (everybody talks, everybody talks)

“My apologises for our rushed departure but you seemed to want to get out of their anyhow.” His gruff tone danced through the silence, his head still peaking around the corner; watching for any unwelcome guests.

“Thank you.” She whispered, her voice almost being carried off by the gentle wind. A genuine smile illustrated upon her face.

“We weren’t able to converse after the events of the other night. I would like to formally apologise once more for my actions causing this adverse reaction. If I had kn-“

“You don’t need to apologise!” She squeaked, hiding her eyes behind her fisted hand. Her shoulders curled inwards as she tried to make herself seem as small as possible, a side effect of her common use of her secondary miraculous form: Multimouse.

“I chose to dance with you, you don’t need to apologise for my own actions.” He stared at her with confusion. He had taken the blame so she wouldn’t need to do so herself; but she had taken it anyways. He had given her an out. Why does she always take the blame, even for things out of her control?

“But if I hadn’t danced with you then you wouldn’t have been the focus of the entire school.”

Marinette stepped forward, her eyes hardened and blazing. “Damian Friday night I went there out of obligation to my friends, I didn’t want to be there. But dancing with you? That was the highlight of my week, probably my month too. I enjoyed our time together.” Her face softened, lips twitched downwards ever so slightly. “I don’t regret anything about that night, but do you?”

He was bad at comfort. Everyone in his family avoided him when they were in need, he plainly didn’t know what to do. She wasn’t visibly upset but he sensed that she is disappointed that he apparently didn’t share the same opinion of the night. The only thing he regretted about that night was letting Jon call him a coward, but then again if he didn’t he never would have danced with Dupa- Marinette.

He picked up her clenched hand, the tension in her body alleviated at his embrace. He remembered how Grayson would apologise to Kor’i or how his father interacted with Ms Kyle. He brought their hands up and placed a kiss upon her knuckles.

And that was when I kissed her (everybody talks, everybody talks)

“I do not regret anything either—“ he cleared his throat, “In fact, I’d appreciate if we would be able to interact more, especially outside of that cesspit.”

Was he...?

It didn’t matter.

She smiled the same dazzling smile she gave him at the dance. She nodded while laughing, “I’d love that.”

Everybody talks

The two stay talking, hidden within their secret alcove for the rest of the day. She texted her parents to say she was with a friend and would be back later that night. Damian didn’t bother texting his family, Marinette knew he had to be back soon due to his dorm’s curfew.

The sun was setting at they walked back together, he did the gentlemanly thing and dropped her off at her bakery door. She could see her mother behind the register inconspicuously looking over at the two of them. Damian’s lips quirked upwards, she was satisfied with his kinda-smile.

He walked back, hands in pockets and a neutral expression upon his face instead of a scowl. He reached his door and took his keys, he found that it was already open. Damn.

His family was splayed out within his two roomed dorm. Todd and Drake were fighting over a place to sit on his bed, whilst his father sat at his desk, watching the commotion. The three of them turned to him as he enter the room, they were the only family members able to attend on short notice; Cain had a ballet audition, Gordon & Brown had concert tickets for tomorrow, Grayson had to take care of Mar’i while Kor’i was on Tamaran and Alfred stayed to ensure no one died during their night time activities.

“We need to talk Damian.” His father stood, leaning onto the desk chair. “The school called and said you had an unexcused absence for half the day. Where were you Damian?”

Damian stared into his father’s eyes. He was fifteen, almost an adult, but was treated like he was ten again.

“I was with a friend.”

“Probably the girl from the dance. Marinette, right?” Todd mocked him. Damian snapped his head in the direction of his bed, glaring at both his brothers.

“That’s what I want to talk about with you Damian. Now I don’t know her personally but from what we’ve discovered through our investigation we have some concerns. What’s happened Damian?”

The youngest Wayne’s glare shifted off of his brothers to the floor, and then finally to his father; his family sitting in wait for his answer. Straightening his posture, his shoulders clicked as he rolled then back. His statement’s tone was sure and steady, “Everybody talks father.”

Everybody talks... back

#maribat #marinette x damian #mlb x dc #batfam salt #batfam is concerned #Daminette #the aftermath of ‘Like I did with you’#everybody talks by neon trees #max kante has blackmail and will use it #Alix will bite if provoked #dc x mlb #damian wayne x marinette dupain cheng #Marinette Dupain-Cheng is a meta?#supportive Dupain-Cheng parents ❤️

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