#if anyone else wants to send prompts i'm still taking them btw

[flowercrown-bard]

Why is the Roche/Ciri ship always only crap for you all?

Hey, i once read a draco x apple fanfic. I have no room to judge anyone's ship and I don't think I ever did that (outside of private conversations). What i am judging is someone ruining the fandom experience for other people. If you really are as upset and hurt by people hating on your ship as you say, I'm sure you understand why people don't like you hating on their ship. (btw it's hilarious that you sent me hate for rorveth and cirys. Literally the only character included here that i even know is Ciri. If you sent me geraskier hate there would at least be context since i actually ship it, but i have absolutely no opinion on those ships you mentioned. I don't even know them) You've been told by others why they are annoyed by your asks and obviously it has no effect on you, so i won't bother repeating what they've already said, but i do occasionally love hearing myself talk so i wil still write a far longer response than i should So this isn't a hate response, it's a love letter to fandom. So here's what made being in a fandom so special to me:

The support.

Fandom to me is, at its core, strangers sharing their excitement, inspiring each other and admiring what other people do. When i started writing i was so self conscious, i couldn't sleep after posting a chapter because I was so anxious. And i received so much support even for works that are really not that great. There's something so wonderful about cheering others on and getting cheered on. That sort of open and heartfelt support is not something you experience in real life and it made some hard times much better for me. It's incredible knowing that people across the globe collaborate, send each other prompts or getting really excited about something someone else did.

2. The possibility to just…not engage in conversations i don't want to be in.

It's so freeing to have the option to block people of just not respond. There's always some sort of controversy or just some takes i don't like. How wonderful that i can just not look at those things

3. Getting to be creative and knowing it makes people happier

Your fic or art isn't brilliant? Who cares. It's so freeing to create something out of love, for people who love the same thing. I started writing for the first time since i was a child because of fandom. I dabbled in creating fanart (and realised the medium isn't for me, which is also great to find out), i wrote poetry (which I never wanted to do) and badly recorded songs (which i felt so self conscious about). Was it all good? Ha, absolutely not. But i got zo try it out and i wouldn't have done that without fandom. There is no external pressure to be good (or if there is pressure from other people to create and be good, there are always a ton of others telling you why this pressure is unfair and should be ignored). There are no grades, no deadlines. Just the love and joy of creating and sharing your creation. Or not sharing them, if that's what you want. Both is fine and that's the point

4. Seeing people of all skill levels share their works

And all of their art is beautiful and meaningful, no matter if they qre a master of their craft or someone who pickef up a pen for the first time to try out this medium

5. Seeing different interpretations

I don't like many of them but it's so interesting to see how others are interpreting something. That can be anything from the question of who's a top to some in depth meta analysis. People enjoy different things and it's so cool to see what they focus on

6. The people in general. I pretty much left the witcher fandom months ago (i tried writing for it again but it was so hard that I gave up) but through it, i met incredible people, some of who have become irreplaceable parts of my life and i am so thankful for fandom for bringing us together like this. When i was in the fandom, i got to know people are so talented, unbelievably creative, kind, funny, supportive and so many other wonderful things (even those i never talked to directly. If you left a comment on something i wrote or made my days brighter with your own creations, you are amazing and i appreciate you a lot)

Basically, fandom for me was an experience that brought me joy and a sense of community. It's on you to seek out the fandom experience you want to have. If you want that experience to be one of bitterness and hate, I'm really sorry for you. But more than anything I'm sorry for the people who you drag into this by harrassing them even after they blocked you. If you want to stew in bitterness over shipping a rarepair, that's your decision. But if other people want to enjoy the fandom in a more joyful way, then that should be their decision too and you don't get to take it away from them and ruin their love. Because ultimately that's what fandom is to me and i treasure the memory of that love more than I value the opinion of someone who apparently takes joy in trying (and hopefully failing) to take that love away

[whereismywarden]

I'm fairly certain that every DA smut writer out there has written a scene where their inky has a go on the War Table... Well, I guess it's going to be Violette's turn now ^^

[tazzytypes]

A s/o who has really bad tense muscles and stuff. Stiff shoulders, hips, etc (life is tough in Zaun obviously). How does Silco help them out with that. I'm looking for all the tooth decaying fluff you got. This man owns my whole heart.😭

Same here 😭 Silco is the reason Arcane is my current hyper-fixation.

Also, this sore muscle prompt is hitting way too close to home haha. My backpack for school weighs a tonnn and my back hates it — especially in this cold weather.

Headcannons for Silco are still open btw! If you want to send in more or if anyone else has some ideas please hit me up!

Anyways — here y’a’ go! Hope you enjoy!

Young Silco

Working in the Lanes is rough. Most work in the mines, especially during Silco’s youth, which brings its own aches and pains. On top of that, most people worked two or three jobs to make ends meet.

That being said, after a long days work, an intake of aches and pains is usually the first topic of conversation. You’d be with the three boys and Vander and Benzo would start up a lot of aches and pains and scars.

“That shift this morning twisted something in my shoulder,” Vander would say, “doesn’t help that that mining shift messed it up last month. Still gets stiff when it’s cold out.”

“Least you still have your legs,” Benzo says, “doc says he fixed my kneecap but it still hurts like a bitch.”

Silco will roll his eyes as they talk. You two don’t usually join in except to complain about how fucking tired you were. It was something to cheer to, you guessed. An excuse to drink.

However, Silco would note when somethings up. While he may roll his eyes at his friend’s antics, it’s not because he doesn’t care. It’s because they’re so predictable.

Definitely lot of jokes given about you two being stress relief for the other. Benzo definitely calls you “Silco’s pretty masseuse,” as a joke, earning a slap upside the head from both Vander and Silco

Silco’s observant. It’s what made him so valuable to the rebellion. He knows just by the way you’re holding yourself where the aches and pains are.

You keep touching and rolling your shoulder to get some relief? His hand is there to keep some pressure on it. It’s not much, but it keeps the ache away for a bit.

You’re shifting on your feet as you stand because your hips are stiff? You’re in his lap now. Just don’t shift around too much, ok? He’s skinny and you’re like… really hot.

He’ll let you get in the shower first, just so you can have the warmest water. That is, if it’s working. A lot of times you have to heat the water and fill the tub yourself — it’s a whole process. If it’s a particularly bad day for you, he’ll prepare a bath for you as you take a nap or something. Probably something he does at the end of the week when he doesn’t have to worry about being up early the next day.

He’ll sit behind you sometimes as you bathe with a smirk on his face.

“Enjoying yourself?” He’ll ask.

All you can do is hum which makes him chuckle. He’ll ease tension in your shoulder and wash your hair for you. If it leads to more, it leads to more. If not, he likes being able to take care of you.

Another remedy is to warm water on the stove and use a washcloth as a makeshift heat pad. Silco came up with the idea and you thought he was a fucking genius.

He’s no masseuse, but he will help you work out the worst pains. Is afraid to do anything too intensive as he doesn’t know what he’s doing and doesn’t want to make things worse.

If you’re sore because of HIM? Smug af. Cheekily will say, “everything alright? Maybe you should sit down?”

Sometimes all the tenseness stems from anxiety. There’s always something to have your guard up against. He’ll try and cover your six to make you relax. Definitely makes note to smother you in affection later and otherwise make you completely melt.

Act 1 Silco

Act 1 Silco knows the importance of appearance. Being able to provide isn’t just his love language, it’s a sign that he’s the top dog people should bet upon.

That being said, he’s not Act 2 and 3 Silco. Yeah, he has a fancy lair. But it was abandoned. There’s a lot of deals and bartering being done to get things. More coins to scrape together, but still spread thin.

He’ll get you things that help with the aches. Peppermint oil, a semi-decent heated blanket, those sort of things.

He’s less likely to pull you into his lap or rub your shoulders like he would when he was young. At least in public. As said before, Silco knows the importance of appearances. Does his connection to you put a target on your back? Yes. However, it’s also more than that. Him doting on you too publicly makes YOU look weak. He can’t have that. People take advantage of weak people in these parts and the vultures are always swarming.

So, his way of dealing with this is holding you back. Calling your name followed by a serious, “a word,” which makes it seem like he’s about to rip you a new one.

“How long has it been bothering you?” He’ll ask, nodding to whatever part of you is sore that day.

He then offers to get you whatever you need, whether by getting someone to fetch it for you or ordered more if you’re out.

If you’ve tried everything, however, he’ll tell you to take a break and nap or just otherwise take things easy.

When you’ve tried every trick in the book, he’s there with gentle hands. Will give you a few days off to either solve the problem or think of a better solution.

“I’ll have Singed make something.”

“There’s someone who owes me a favor or two. Smuggles in things topside. I’ll see if he knows anything.”

Will check in on you periodically. Small (and I mean very small) breaks will be taken in his part to run your shoulders or otherwise help you ease up a bit.

Is more likely to ask questions to see if your anxieties and stress have anything to do with it. Especially if he knows important missions are around the corner. Understands the complexities of the mind, now. He probably has more tenseness himself. If that’s the root of your problems, expect sweet nothings whispered in your ear.

Speaking of questions, will definitely start spilling a list of remedies.

“Have you tried [x]?” He’ll ask.

“Yes.”

“what about [Y]?”

“That, too”

“How about [z]?”

“No,” you’ll snap, voice filled with sarcasm. He looks you in the eyes and you huff. “Of corse I fucking did!”

Will try and go to bed earlier than he usually does to check in on you (again). Expect to be cuddled.



Act 2 and 3 Silco

Any fancy oil, heating device, or compression gear you need? All you have to do is ask. Only the best of the best.

Has the best masseuse on hand for all your needs.

You don’t even have to ask. He sees you in pain or feeling uncomfortable and he’s already made arrangements.

Less likely to personally attend to you now. In part because he’s the busiest man in Zaun, but also he knows you’re in better hands than his.

However, will feel a bit… jealous isn’t quite the word. He knows it’s a detached approach to taking care of you and, while it’s the best care he could give, he’s still a man of Zaun. Something about doing the work with your own two hands is more rewarding, especially when it comes to helping those you care about.

You’ll get used to the fancy masseuse and mention having an appointment with him and he’ll look up from his desk for a moment.

“While I love to spoil you,” he’ll say, “It would be best if we cut spending in that department. Just for a bit. Let me draw you a bath.”

It’s a lie. Don’t call him on it. Let him do this for you. If you call him out in it he may think you’re angry at him or don’t want to spend time with him. His mind always goes to the worse, even if he trusts you wholeheartedly. Do you just love him for the money? Those types of things. Either way, you get spoiled rotten. Just let him do this.

Will make an evening out of it. May result in spicy times, may not. Either way, it usually results in you two curled up in bed together, his hands tracing patterns on your skin.

[also please schedule this man with your masseuse. He won’t do it if it’s just for him, so beg him for a date night with a massage and dinner. Silco is stressed and not as young as he used to be. God knows there’s always something that’s sore these days]

[microsuedemouse]

all right! okay! @mana-sputachu requested (via twitter) some Danganronpa TogaFuka with song number eight!

(send me a ship and a number from 1-100; I'll write a short scene inspired by the corresponding song from my Spotify top songs this year)

btw this was the last one I had in progress but I'm loving these and if anyone else wants to send me a prompt please dooooo

this one was really interesting! ToFu is a really unique ship, and I knew that pretty much any song I got for them would take some creative finagling to make work for them in an honest, non-AU sort of way. the fluffy and romantic doesn't fit very well. however. this song is about coping as a kid with your parents' divorce, and how that divorce can kind of fuck you up even into adulthood. and while neither Togami's nor Fukawa's parents were ever married or in love to begin with, the ways those parents' dysfunctional relationships affected them as kids was definitely something I could work with. it's also a song about writing a play, which works well for Fukawa :~) anyway. this is angsty, for the record, but I'm very happy with it.

also, quick disclaimer: apologies if it seems like I'm less versed in the finer details of canon here than I usually am with my writing. it's because I am! I've watched the first season of the DR anime and read up on a lot of game lore, but that's about it. I'd like to watch more and maybe even play the game(s) at some point, but god knows when I'll get to that, lol.

also yes hi I know this ship is uhh, Controversial, so just to be clear ahead of time: I won't be responding to any clowning or bad faith messages about it. I'll just block ya. I'm too tired to deal with people being rude and/or obtuse on the internet

My Play | 1 189 words | G

but when I show you my play will you pretend you didn't know if I make a mistake? it's gonna get really, really, really, really bad before it's okay

“The first thing I ever wrote was a p-play.”

Fukawa spoke quietly, her face tipped downward, gaze fixed on her own hands where they were tangled together on the tabletop. She fidgeted uncertainly when Togami lifted his eyes from his book of Shakespeare and regarded her for a moment.

He still had the instinct, sometimes, not to engage. But Naegi and Kirigiri had been on his case about that, lately. She’s come so far, they’d admonished him. She’s working so hard. Please just try to be nicer to her. We only have each other.

“I thought the first thing you ever wrote was a love letter,” he said finally.

She looked up sharply, seemingly astonished that he was responding. Then she swallowed and tried to school her face into a more neutral expression. “I-I didn’t think I ever… t-told you about that.”

Togami shook his head. “You didn’t,” he explained. “Jack did. She… likes to overshare, sometimes.”

She winced slightly, flushing. “I-I’m sorry. Even aside f-from the obvious, there’s s-so much she did that I h-have to apologise for.” She licked her lips. “That’s… p-part of why I’m trying so hard to keep her under c-control.”

“You don’t need to apologise for her actions. I wouldn’t,” he heard himself say. Fukawa seemed startled. In an attempt not to show that he’d surprised himself, he cleared his throat and continued, “Not even the most powerful person in the world can truly control another person’s behaviour. Jack might share your body, but she is another person. That’s how it works.”

“I… I guess,” she agreed softly, staring.

And there was his opportunity to end the conversation. By rights, he should. He wasn’t sure why, but he’d shown too much, and it would be wisest to put a stop to things now. Instead, he closed his book and leaned forward, just a tiny bit. “Was Jack lying to me, then? If you wrote other things before the love letter?”

“W-well, not exactly.” She flexed her fingers, twisting them more tightly into each other. “I-it’s just that the letter was… the f-first thing anyone else ever read. A-and, I had that teacher who saw it, and t-told me I wrote well, and to… to k-keep working at it. But I’d wr-written things before.”

“Like a play.” He propped his elbow on the arm of his chair and rested his chin on his fist. He had no idea why he was doing this with her, but at least Naegi and Kirigiri wouldn’t have any grounds anymore to claim that he hadn’t given her a chance. Yes. It was practical, if he looked at it that way.

Fukawa nodded. “I-I was… seven or eight, I think. No one ever really p-played with me very much, so I had to m-make my own fun a lot of the t-time. Somehow, I g-got it in my head to write a p-play. I think the idea c-came from school, or something. I was… c-convinced that if I performed a g-great play for them… my p-parents would be impressed with me.”

“And were they?” Togami prompted, when she petered out. It was a banal question. He had no reason to ask, and no interest in her answer, really. Then he added, “What was it about, anyway?”

“I-it… it was about a superhero who rescued a little g-girl… and then a-adopted her. And all of his superhero f-friends helped him take c-care of her.” She looked down again, this time low enough that her hair fell across her face and completely hid her from view. When she continued, her voice was even quieter than before. “I-I asked everyone in the house to c-come watch me, but n-no one did. They… p-probably would have hated it, a-anyway.”

And just like that, Togami was wildly out of his depth. There were hundreds of things in this world that he could do far better than anyone else he knew, but this… this was not something he’d ever been taught to handle. It was true that ever since Hope’s Peak, he’d come a long way, as far as understanding the value of connecting with other people. He’d learned first how to rely on others, how to let them rely on him, and since then he’d begun to learn what it really meant to have friends, rather than just strategic allies. But this was well outside of his realm of expertise. Naegi, maybe, would know how to handle this in a rational manner.

And then he remembered something Naegi had said to him, once, and the other Killing Game survivors, besides Fukawa herself. Komaru didn’t tell me everything Fukawa told her, he’d confided in them. But what Fukawa went through as a kid… I know sometimes it feels like we’ve been through the worst the world has to offer. I know we made it through the Tragedy and everything else, and it feels like we know what it means to really suffer. But I think maybe Fukawa had already survived that much pain before we ever even met her.

Togami hadn’t cared very much at the time, so evidently he hadn’t even bothered to remember it all that well, until this conversation jogged it back to the surface. Now, it seemed more important. It also seemed embarrassingly obvious, given that most of the literature on her disorder agreed that it was typically the result of considerable trauma. He supposed it hadn’t made a difference to him, when Naegi had shared this, what she had been through; he had no patience for her either way.

He was a little surprised that it made this much of a difference to him now.

And maybe, over all this time she’d spent working so hard to gain better control of herself, he’d been losing some of his own once-tight self-control. Because before he even realised what he was doing, he swallowed and reached out, brushing a hand against her hunched shoulder, and said, “My parents never loved me, either.”

Yet again her head snapped up, and she stared at him in shock, this time with eyes shining and tears beginning to track down her cheeks. Togami was uncomfortably aware that he was staring straight back, his own confusion and uncertainty beginning to show on his face. He couldn’t seem to help it.

They looked at one another for what seemed far too long. Then Fukawa sniffled, bringing a hand up to her face and scrubbing at her eyes with her sleeve. “I’m not really… much of a p-performer,” she managed, voice still a bit thick. “B-but if I decided to write a-a new play… would you r-read it, Bya… um, T-Togami-sama?”

His mouth felt dry. “I… yes,” he answered, very slowly, and yet again he didn’t know why. Why on earth would her decision to be vulnerable with him – for far from the first time, too – trip him up so much? Why was he indulging her this way? What was wrong with him? “Yes, I think I would.”

She began to smile, and something, certainly, must have been very deeply wrong with him. Because he began to feel better.

[silentglassbreak]

So like I know I literally already requested one but I love your writing so much that I had to request another 😍 Maybe have Billy help with Steve's anxiety by forcing him into his pool or have a sandelot scene wear Steve 'drowns' on purpose so Billy's mouth would be on his. Omfg I'm so sorry but like I haven't found anyone else who takes requests for harringrove and honestly it's a struggle 😭

HI! Please feel free to send me all the prompts your heart desires. This one went a little off from where I had originally intended it, so I hope you still enjoy it!

I included Robin, because don’t we just need her sometimes?

And BTW, you’re the L I T E R A L sweetest! No need to apologize!

A Reason To Fall Is Better Than No Reason At All

Steve was trying to remember why he let Robin talk him into coming to the pool today. The sun, beating about as brightly as he was sure it possibly could, made his skin sting angrily. The splashing sounds from the kids had his head running in different directions, ultimately distracting him from the real reason he didn’t want to be here.

“Agh, Steve,” Robin ripped her sunglasses off of her face, revealing a red line where they sat on her cheeks. “Would you quit moping? It’s the middle of summer, it’s our day off. Would you please just enjoy yourself?” His eyes glared in her direction. He stuck his bottom lip out, pouting childishly while crossing his arms over his chest.

“No.” She rolled her eyes and replaced her sunglasses.

“I honestly don’t know why you don’t just talk to him.” She went back to flipping through her magazine, eyes barely skimming the pages.

“Yes, you do know why.” Steve’s Ray Bans sat over his hair, pressing it down in, he was sure, the most unflattering way. He pulled them off and pulled his knees up to his chest, hooking his arms around them. His eyes constantly wandered to the lifeguard chair, where Heather Holloway was perched. Her shift ended in T minus ten minutes, and then his day was going to get so much...harder.

“It’s not my fault you’re too pussy to actually tell Billy how you feel.” Steve scoffed, tilting his head back toward the blinding sun.

“Sure! Why not?” He threw his hands up dramatically and dropped his voice to just above a whisper. “Hey Billy, did you know that I’ve been, like, insanely in love with you since you beat my face in last year? Oh, and also, I’ve stared at you in the shower so many times after practice that I damn near memorized all your freckles? How about that?” Robin’s nose was scrunched up, staring at Steve with a sort of disgust. She made a disapproving sound.

“Yeah, don’t fucking say that.” Steve let his body fall limp in the pool lounger, eyes moving over the kids’ heads in the water. He counted them off one by one in his head.

Mike. Lucas. Will. Eleven. Max. Dust-

Where was Dustin?

He stood to his feet instantly, moving over toward the edge of the pool, foot almost slipping underneath him. He crouched down next to where the boys were horsing around, evidently arguing over a game of chicken. His hand reached out and slapped the water, splashing Lucas and Mike.

“Hey, shitheads.” They turned and glared at him.

“What?” Mike’s voice always had this tone that made Steve wonder why he even tolerated him.

“Where’s Dustin?” They all started looking around, then back to one another. Will shrugged at Mike before Lucas looked up at Steve.

“I think he went to get a drink at the snack bar?” Steve rolled his eyes and stood back up, replacing his sunglasses on his face and marching toward the small store. He was looking back at Robin, who was eyeing Heather from over the lenses of her sunglasses when something, someone, crashed into his chest.

“Woah, Harrington.” Hands we’re grabbing his forearms, steadying him on the slippery cement. “Easy.” Steve pinched his eyes shut for a second behind his glasses before turning his head back. He almost didn’t recognize the boy in front of him.

Billy was almost as tall as Steve, falling short by maybe an inch. His dark black Aviators hid his ocean blue eyes, freckles spread generously over his face, down his neck, over his chest. Steve would know. But it wasn’t any of it that stunned Steve, it was Billy’s hair, or lack thereof.

Billy’s blonde curls always hung just above his shoulders, mullet-style, or in a low ponytail. When Steve looked at him now, it was just gone. He couldn’t breathe for half a second, a slow grin spanning Billy’s lips.

“You alright, princess?” Steve ripped his arms out of Billy’s hands, praying his eyes, blown wide, weren’t visible behind his sunglasses.

“Yeah,” he pretended to brush his shirt off. He didn’t even fall. He was an idiot. “yeah, the ground’s just...slippery.” Billy smirked, seemingly amused.

“That’s because it’s a pool.” The words came out slow, as if that’s what Steve was to him. He huffed and moved to walk past Billy, heart hammering through his chest. Billy let him go with one last glance in Steve’s direction, but he didn’t quite see that.

*

An hour into Billy’s shift, and Steve was quietly arguing with Robin, begging her to let him leave.

“I am not watching all of these children by myself, Steve.” He was cross legged on the lounger, turned toward her and gesturing way too much with his hands.

“It was your idea to come here!” She nodded her head, now watching as Heather dove into the pool near the lap barriers.

“Yes it was…” Her voice trailed off, eyes so obviously following Heather as she lapped back and forth in the pool. After almost a minute, Steve snapped in front of her face.

“Earth to lesbian!” She shot a glare at him. She slapped her magazine down on her legs and gave him her full attention.

“Yes, Stevie?” Steve furrowed his brow, hated when she called him that.

“He cut his fucking hair, Robin! I can’t stop looking at him!” She chuckled and threw her head back.

“Earth to closeted bi-Steve, who is admittedly in love with Billy Bad-Ass!” He frowned intentionally.

“You think you’re funny?”

“Oh, I know I’m funny.”

“None of this is funny! This is torture, Robs!” She rolled her eyes then, turning her body towards him.

“Then go,” She paused and grabbed his chin. “talk,” Turned his face toward the lifeguard tower. “to him.” Steve’s eyes stopped on Billy, shirtless, glistening, sunglasses pushed on top of his head, whistle shining around his neck.

Robin let go of his face and went back to her tabloid. “He’s into you too, by the way.” He felt like his heart stopped, maybe fell out of his chest somewhere near his stomach.

“He is not.” She scoffed, nodding her head curtly. “And how do you fucking know that?”

“Because when you were babysitting your children before, I might’ve chatted with Heather. They’re best friends, you know.” Steve’s mouth fell open. Her tone was teasing, but he couldn’t tell if it was because she was fucking with him, or providing him with information that she knew would make him do backflips.

“Please don’t screw with me like that, Robs.” She threw her head back, frustrated.

“You are absolutely incorrigible, Steve Harrington.” He glanced back at Billy, whose eyes were expertly trained on the pool and the patrons, waiting for a slip of misbehavior, an excuse to blow his whistle.

“Are you being serious?” She just hummed, flipping to the next page. “Alright.” Steve gripped the edges of the chair, knuckles going white. “Fuck it, I’m going to go talk to him.” Robin ripped her glasses off and looked at him.

“Seriously?! What are you going to say?”

“Robin!” She sat back, hand going up defensively.

“Okay, okay.” She nodded at Steve, lips in a hard line. “You’ve got this, Steve Harrington. You‘ve got this.” He nodded in agreement, his body standing off the lounger. Before he could walk away, his gut twisted and he turned quickly.

“Fuck, what do I say?!” She chuckled.

“I honestly don’t know.” She waved him off and looked off toward Heather. “Pretend to drown or something.” He shrugged, squeezing his eyes shut and taking a long, deep breath. He could do this. He could do this.

His body moved, almost involuntarily, and much too quickly toward the lifeguard chair on the other side of the pool. He ran over conversation starters in his head.

‘Hey, heard you like me. Want to get something to eat?’

‘Funny seeing you here, Hargrove. Want to make out?’

‘I’m in love with you, let’s fuck in the bathroom.���

He was only about ten feet from him now, and he had yet to find an acceptable way to even say hello to Billy, let alone confess his love. He didn’t need to that very second, right? He had time. Maybe ask him out for ice cream? He had plenty of access. Offer him a ride to Tina’s party tonight? Tell him he wanted to just hang out? One of those should work.

Steve’s head was so muddled, so distracted that he didn’t even see it, the discarded pair of sandals on the edge of the pool, wet and even slicker than the cement, until his foot kicked out from under him, head cracking on the edge of the pool. He heard someone yell, and he felt the searing pain just before he went into the water.

Luckily, Steve fell into the shallow end of the pool, legs catching him quickly, only most of his hair getting wet. Suddenly, he couldn’t quite remember his train of thought. He was headed somewhere, to talk to someone, but his eye was stinging from the blood streaming into it, and his forehead was throbbing.

His left eye shut reflexively, his hand reaching up to feel an open cut just under his hairline. When he pulled his hand back, his fingers were red and sticky. The sight made his stomach turn a bit, enough to make him want out of the pool and to sit down.

“You alright, pretty boy?” He looked up with one eye, fighting against the sun’s rays, to see him crouching next to the pool. “You need CPR?” Billy’s grin was genuine, but he was definitely fucking with Steve. He returned it with a nervous smile of his own, making his way to the edge of the pool. Billy held his hand out to Steve, helping him hoist himself up onto the edge and out of the water.

“I think I’ll be alright.” He noticed Heather standing behind Billy, eyes searching Steve’s face.

“You sure you’re alright? Do you need us to call an ambulance?”

“No!” Steve nearly shouted. As if this wasn’t embarrassing enough. “No, thank you. I’ll just clean up in the restroom.” She gave him a half smile. His eyes found Billy’s face, who was wearing a smirk that had some kind of meaning.

“Yeah, I think he’s fine Heaths. I’ll go get him cleaned up, and get him a fresh shirt.” Steve looked down at his white shirt, blood now staining the left side of his chest. Perfect. “Cover for me for a few?” She just nodded sweetly at him and patted Steve on the shoulder.

Billy’s hand guided him by the wrist toward the building behind the pool. They went through a door that read ‘Employees Only’, leading to a locker and shower room. Billy sat Steve down on a bench in front of his locker, fingers working the combination.

“Sorry, about this.” Billy snorted a laugh.

“Did you mean to do it?” Steve shook his head, disbelief on his face.

“No,” It came out as almost a chuckle. “definitely not.”

“Then don’t apologize.” Steve leaned his head back and shut his eyes, wishing he was anywhere else. Before he opened them, he felt Billy’s fingers brushing his hair off his forehead. When he looked, Billy held a cotton swab in one hand, some strip stitches in the other. “This shit’s going to sting.” He didn’t give Steve a chance to protest before he pressed the alcohol dipped swab to his cut, exciting a hiss from between Steve’s teeth.

It only took a few minutes before Billy had him cleaned up, blood gone from his face, cut closed and sterilized. He tossed a lime green shirt at Steve, taking the bloody one and shoving it in his locker.

“I’ll get the blood out and give it back.” Steve raised an eyebrow. “I know a thing or two.” He shook his head and unfolded the shirt. Billy leaned back against the lockers, eyes glued to Steve, moving up and down his body while he fiddled to find the front of the t-shirt.

“You know, Harrington, if you had wanted to get my attention, you could’ve just talked to me.” Steve froze, arms halfway in the sleeves, eyes stuck on Billy’s face.

“What?” His voice was so small, he almost didn’t hear it himself. Billy’s chest shook with a silent laugh.

“I mean,” He pushed away, moving into Steve’s space. “injuring yourself, just to get me to notice you? That’s kind of ridiculous, isn’t it?” Steve wanted to scoff, wanted to roll his eyes, wanted to do something. But he couldn’t, Billy was too close, breath too hot on his face.

“I didn’t-“ But Billy was quick, grabbing Steve’s arms, and pressing him against the lockers. Steve let out an exasperated sound.

“If you wanted my mouth on you, Steve,” His name rolled off Billy’s tongue like butter. “you should’ve just asked.”

He was on fire, on actual fire. Steve swallowed the lump forming in his throat, brewed as much confidence as he could, and…

“I’m asking.”

Billy growled then, lips catching Steve’s like a lion catching its prey. The kiss was hungry, desperate, everything Steve fucking needed. He tried to stop himself, but a low moan escaped when he felt Billy’s tongue lick past his lips, into his mouth. His arms dropped the shirt down, hands reaching up to grab the back of Billy’s neck, pulling their bodies closer. There was too much fucking space between them.

Billy’s lips trailed down Steve’s chin, biting lightly at the jawline, leaving wet kisses down onto his neck. He was going to stop breathing if Billy kept this up.

“Jesus Christ, Steve, I told you to pretend to drown, not to actually-“ Robin’s voice echoed off the walls before stopping short. Their heads both whipped toward her, eyes dark and hungry.

Steve gave a nervous grin and offered a short wave. “Hey Robs.” Her voice was much quieter then.

“H-Hey. Sorry, didn’t mean to-“ Billy took a step back from Steve and he immediately felt the absence. Billy padded over to the door, smiling all sugar and irritation before pushing to close it.

“Bye Robs.” He called before letting the latch click, hand turning the deadbolt. His eyes looked back to Steve, all fire.

“Now, where were we?”

[justanotherdaylikeanyother-blog1]

You can't stop writing! You wrote the only abo fic I ever finished. And I'm rereading Thrown for a Loop, one of my favorites. I wish Pacat had more interest in talking about CP, because it seems like the fandom is just dying. :(

Thanks anon! Thrown for a Loop and The Veretian Flytrap (I assume that’s what you’re referring to, but it’s kind of hilarious to realise that I have multiple fics/series that are ‘abo fics’, so I guess it could be one of the other ones) are two of my fics that I particularly love even though the breakneck pace of writing them killed me a little. So I’m glad you enjoyed them as well. I wouldn’t worry too much, though. I’m just in a bit of a funk currently, I think. It happens. It’ll likely pass soon once I get my head straight again (and readjust my expectations of myself yet again).

As for the fandom dying, I’m sorry but I’m going to go off on a tangent here. And please note that this is a general statement rather than an indictment against you, anon. But you sort of brought it up, and this is something that’s been bothering me lately, so I might as well take the opportunity to say it now.

It’s strange to me how much we expect creators to be involved with or provide direction or drive for fandoms. It might just be because I was part of various fandoms long before things like twitter existed, so the ability to engage directly with creators was a lot more limited when my expectations of the fandom experience were formed. But I’ve really always seen fandom as ideally being its own thing, quite separate from the creator of the thing that the fandom is based on, unless the creator voluntarily goes out of their way to get involved with it (and even then, there should be limits). If the source material goes in a direction you didn’t like, complain to other fans as much as you want, but don’t complain directly to the creator that they ruined your experience; it’s not actually their job to satisfy you individually. If you want to see your OTP end up together, write fic or draw art of them (or moodboards and playlists and whatever other content your heart desires), but don’t tweet at the creator that they’re a terrible person if they don’t make it happen in canon or acknowledge it in interviews or whatever (looking at you at the moment, Good Omens fandom); again, it’s their creation to do with as they please and it’s not their responsibility to cater to your specific desires. Similarly, if the fandom is dying down after canon ended, that’s ultimately on us, not on the creator; it’s not the creator’s responsibility to keep us interested in something they’ve already mostly moved on from. 

I’ve seen fandoms get a second life years after canon ended just because a couple of really enthusiastic authors or artists jumped into that fandom late and started pumping out content (Inception is one that springs prominently to mind, but there have been others as well). And while new canon or new adaptations of canon are certainly things that bring new people to the fandom, the author just talking about their existing canon isn’t particularly likely to do that (which is probably part of the reason why Pacat doesn’t do it much). Mostly what that kind of engagement really does is just sparks conversations for those people who are already part of the fandom. And honestly, why do we need the creator to do that for us? Can’t the same thing be achieved by sharing headcanons? Why does the author need to confirm something for us in order for us to just collectively run with it, or at least to have fun debating about it? And I mean, imagine if Pacat answered questions about things like the length of all the characters’ hair. Half the ongoing conversations in this fandom would stop. 

I appreciate that not everyone takes the ‘death of the author’ concept as far as I do, where I don’t honestly care what the creator says after the fact because it’s not any more canon to me than my own headcanons are. But still. Fandoms were going strong long before we could tweet our questions directly at the author. Fandom builds on itself just as much as it builds on canon. If the fandom isn’t as active as we’d like, we really need to do something about it ourselves rather than waiting for someone else like the creator to take responsibility for it. Write stories. Run an exchange. Send prompts to other writers or take prompts yourself. Whatever interests you, just keep doing it, or do more of it. That’s how closed fandoms stay alive. And yeah, there’s still going to be attrition over time in terms of how many people are involved. But that doesn’t have to mean it’s not still active.

And yes, I know this probably sounds a little hypocritical, because I’ve been known to voice my sadness that there isn’t a lot of interaction going on with my fics compared to a year or two ago, and to have lapses in motivation as a result, because the extrinsic motivation isn’t always there. But once I’ve gotten that frustration out of my system by posting about it here (and gotten over myself, let’s be honest), I also do tend to put my big girl pants on and decide to go write some more fic and take prompts and occasionally write meta when someone throws a topic my way (which you’re always welcome to do, btw). That’s the role I’ve chosen to take in this fandom. And ultimately, as long as I do what I want to do personally, there’s not much point in complaining about what anyone else or the fandom as a whole is doing, because at least I’m being active in a way that works for me.

[abbygkane]

So, I was in class and all I could think was drunk Marcus trying to hit on Abby... No wonder I'm failing my classes!

*snorts* That’s a hilarious image! And I know that you didn’t mean to send this message as a prompt or anything, but it did get me thinking and I maybe, kind of, did write something! So hey, if you are failing your classes, at least you have inspired this little thing ^^ I’m totally kidding btw, I’m sure you’re not failing them I BELIEVE IN YOU

Also special thanks to those who messaged/commented with pick-up lines

Marcus is drunk, he knows he is. To be fair, when he decided to drop by their makeshift bar with Indra after their final meeting, he had only intended to have one drink. Just the one after a long day to unwind a little bit or at least to attempt to unwind. Indra had already left some time ago, but somehow one mug of moonshine had turned into another and then another with Bellamy and the rest of his ‘children’, as Abby affectionately and teasingly called them.  

Although both he and Abby knew that they’re anything but children, but still, it’s a nice thought to have.

That he, Marcus Kane, the man who never expected to see the ground or to be a father as a matter of fact, suddenly has a group of young people who respect him, who actively seek him out and ask for his advice. Who perhaps look up to him, even with all his flaws and even though he’ll never admit it, their almost casual amiability towards him means more to Marcus than he could ever express without fumbling his words or tearing up.

But to get back to the point, Marcus knows that he’s drunk. He might not be that far gone that he doesn’t know what he’s saying or doing, but the moonshine has created an enough buzz for him to feel both slightly more relaxed and know that he’ll probably have an impressive headache tomorrow morning. However, as he takes a glance around the table and takes in the good-humored chatter and laughter, Marcus realises that he’ll happily endure tomorrow’s hangover.

To be honest, he doesn’t entirely know what they’re all talking about. To his right, he can hear snippets of what sounds to be a highly technical conversation between Raven, Monty and Harper. Across from him Octavia and Jasper are talking about something. While to his left, he believes that Bellamy, Nathan and Bryan are discussing the newest guard trainees. Or that’s at least what they were talking about a couple of minutes ago when Bellamy had asked for his opinion on Ben, one of the newbies.

Marcus is just content to sit among them and to regularly give his input or opinion on a certain subject. He’s just in the middle of helping Raven translating something from Trigedasleng when he sees from the corner of his eye Octavia nudging Jasper, who starts laughing before whispering something into Monty’s ear, causing the other boy to chuckle as well and in his turn mumbles something to Harper. Marcus watches how she leans into Bryan and soon enough the entire table is grinning and staring at him.

“What?”

“Oh, nothing. It’s just that your wife just walked in”, Jasper cheekily replies, his smirk growing when Marcus nearly chokes on his moonshine.

“My wi- wife? What are you talking about Jasper? I don’t have a wife?”, he retorts, his voice coming out slightly strangled.

“I think Jasper was referring to Abby”, Bellamy kindly offers, while softly patting him on the back taking pity on him.

He won’t deny that the alcohol is making it difficult for him to think, but Marcus would like to think that he’d remember marrying Abby. Oh yes, he’d definitely remember, because marriage would mean them kissing and other stuff, and just imagining kissing Abby is making him blush, all though he could probably blame that on the moonshine if anyone noticed or bothered to comment on it. 

“Well, perhaps not officially”, Nathan murmurs.

“We’re not even together”, he objects.

“And who’s fault is that?”, Octavia retorts with a raised eyebrow.

“I – I mean,” Marcus stammers before clearing his throat, “It’s not that easy. Abby’s and mine’s past, I - I’ve done things”, he murmurs, staring into his mug.

“We’ve all done things we wish we could take back. Besides, you’ve changed”, Bellamy quietly replies and in his tone Marcus can clearly hear the guilt the boy carries with him, a guilt he himself knows all too well.

“Yeah. Besides from all the looks she’s been giving you, I don’t think Doctor Griffin would mind”, Harper comments.

His eyes widen, “Looks?”

Raven rolls her eyes, “Please don’t tell me you haven’t noticed. She’s been undressing you with her eyes for quite some time”

“Really?”

“Kane please. If we still had dictionaries and you’d look up ‘eye-sex’, there would be a picture of you two next to it”, the mechanic claims with another eye roll.

“Really?!”

 “Well, there’s no time like the present”, Jasper states before standing up and shouting, “Hey Doctor G, there’s a seat for you here if you want to”

“Jasper, sit down! What do you think you’re doing?”, Marcus hisses, leaning forward while motioning him to sit down.

“Helping you”, the boy shrugs as he lets himself fall down on his seat again, enjoying the blush that appears on Marcus’ cheeks and the rest of the table softly snickers.

“What am I supposed to say?”

“Just flirt!”, Octavia replies.

“Do I look like someone who knows how to flirt?”, he deadpans.

The silence that falls over the table is awkward and kind of painful, and if Marcus were less drunk it might have hurt his feelings, at least a little bit, but right now he’s more concerned about the fact that Abby’s on her way and he has absolutely no idea how to handle himself.

I mean he already has enough trouble making sure he doesn’t act like a total fool hopelessly in love with her when he’s sober, never mind when he’s drunk.

“How about some one-liners?”, Monty offers after a couple of seconds, and Jasper immediately nods his agreement.

“Some what?”

“You know pick-up lines, conversation starters”, the boy explains when Marcus continues to look at him like he’s talking gibberish.

“Yeah, for example; Do you have a map? ‘Cause I keep getting lost in your eyes”, Jasper enthusiastically exclaims, ignoring the soft groans from the others, “Oh, or what about this one; Did you just fart? Because you blew me away!”, he continues with a gigantic grin plastered on his face.

“Ugh, that one’s terrible Jasper”, Raven groans as she hides her face behind her hands, slightly shaking her head.

“How about a doctor related one? Oh no, I’m choking. I need mouth to mouth, quick!!”, he jokes while wiggling his eyebrows in a suggestive manner and everyone just burst out in laughter, even Marcus is unable to keep a straight face.

“Dude, you’re the worst”, Monty chuckles, but he claps him good-heartedly on the back.

They’re all still laughing and sipping their drinks when Marcus feels a hand settling on his shoulder.  

“Sounds like you’re all enjoying yourselves.”

Marcus turns his head towards Abby, “Hi”, he greets her with a broad smile.

“Hi”

He keeps staring at her with a silly smile plastered on his face and Abby’s starting to look a bit confused by his behaviour when Jasper loudly clears her throat and she turns her attention towards him. Although she doesn’t retract her hand from his shoulder, an action Marcus is acutely aware of.

Although she doesn’t retract her hand from his shoulder, an action Marcus is acutely aware of.

“Yes, Jasper?”

“Marcus has something to ask you”, the boy says, looking way too smug.

“Oh?”, Abby replies while giving his shoulder an almost imperceptible squeeze.

Marcus throws Jasper a glare, which apparently loses its efficiency after three mugs of moonshine, if the boy’s grin is anything to go on by, before glancing up at Abby.

“Why don’t we go somewhere else?”, he proposes while rising from his seat, inwardly giving himself a pat on the shoulder when he manages to do so with only the smallest of stumbles.

“Okay”, Abby frowns, but she wordlessly follows him as he starts to move to an empty table to their right.

“Is something wrong?”, she can’t help but ask as they sit down. 

“Oh no, everything’s fine. I just thought we could talk without getting stared at”, he reassures her. 

“You sure? Because you seemed to be enjoying yourself”, she jests.

“Oh, I’m positive I’ll enjoy myself even more with just you”, he murmurs suggestively, not missing the look of surprise that crosses her face.

“Jasper said there was something you wanted to ask me?”, Abby asks after a couple of seconds.

“Ah, yes”, he breaths, clearing his throat, “That”

He takes several deep breaths, trying to work up the courage to follow’s Monty’s and Jasper’s advice. Which to be fair is something Marcus never thought he’d ever do.“Do you have an inhaler? Because you certainly took my breath away”, he blurts out.

“Marcus, what-”, Abby starts, but he quickly cuts her off.

“There must be something with my eyes because I can’t seem to take them off you”, he rambles on, panicking when she stares at him with her mouth slightly agape.

“Hey, your body is 75% water and I’m thirsty”, he jabbers, only to visibly wince as soon as he realises how simply awful that one had sounded.

Abby bit back a laugh, “Marcus are you drunk?”

“I’m not drunk, I’m merely intoxicated by you”, he winks, relaxing a little bit and giving her a tiny grin when she starts to giggle.

“Marcus”, she laughs, “If I didn’t know better I’d think you were flirting with me!”

Grin disappearing from his face, he nervously scratches his beard.

“Uhm. I am, actually”, he stammers, trying to look anywhere but Abby’s radiant smile. “Or at least, I’m trying to flirt with you. To be honest, I’m not that good at it, especially not with you. And the moonshine doesn’t really help either.”

“Oh”, Abby exhales.

“Yeah”, Marcus shrugs, trying his very best not to fidget under her gaze, but honestly, if the ground opened up beneath him and swallowed him whole, he wouldn’t mind it at all.

“This is quite the surprise”

“But perhaps not an unwelcome one?”, he hints, a hopeful note clear in his voice.

The smile Abby bestows on him is bright and tender, “Not unwelcome at all”

“Although your pick-up lines do need some work”, she teases.

Letting out an embarrassed groan, Marcus lets his head fall into his hands. “I’m so sorry for those. This was all Jasper’s idea”

“What you flirting with me?”

“What? No no. The pick-up lines. The flirting was Octavia’s idea, I mean-”, he stammers, but rushes to explain when Abby raises an eyebrow.

“She suggested it, but I wanted to. I really did, trust me, I’ve been wanting to for a while now and –”, he falters when he notices the small smile on her face, “I’m messing this up aren’t I?  I’m such an idiot”, he sighs before closing his eyes.

Finally deciding to take pity on him, Abby moves forward and grabs one of his hands before intertwining their fingers.

“But you’re my idiot”, she teases and nearly giggles at how quickly his head snaps up and their eyes lock.

She starts to gently run her thumb across his hand.

“How about you try again, tomorrow? Perhaps over dinner? But sober this time?”, Abby calmly proposes, her eyes dancing with mirth.

Marcus nearly falls off his stool, “You mean like a date?”

“As in me”, pointing at himself, “and you?”, he gestures at her, looking absolutely flabbergasted at the possibility of her even wanting to go on a date with him.

“Yes, with you”, Abby replies, laughter clear in her voice, shaking her head at the look on his face. By moving her head, her ponytail bounces back and forward. Now sober Marcus would have been able to restrain himself, tipsy Marcus however, not so much.

So without even thinking about it, he leans forward before reaching out and twirling some strands of hair around his fingers, getting used to the feel of her silky hair between his fingers.

He’s not sure, but Marcus thinks that he can hear her letting out a soft gasp at their sudden proximity.

“I’d like that”, he murmurs, his voice low as he gently tugs on her hair and watches how Abby’s eyes briefly flicker to his mouth. 

Eyes widening, it’s her turn to look surprised and Marcus nearly tells her that she’s looking absolutely adorable, but he manages to bite it back because even tipsy Marcus knows that Abby probably wouldn’t appreciate being called adorable.

“Okay, then”, Abby murmurs, “It’s a date.”

Marcus can merely nod his head in response and Abby gives him a shy smile before quickly leaning in and placing a soft kiss on his cheek.

“I’ll see you tomorrow”, she whispers in his ear before rising from her seat and walking away.

As he watches her leave, still feeling a bit flustered by the kiss and by the whole conversation in general, Marcus can hear the kids laughing and whistling from behind him.

Smiling into his mug, he takes another sip before a staggering thought crossing his mind, he was going a date with Abby tomorrow but he has absolutely no idea what to do.