#im so sorry for taking a while to get back to ficlets!!

[serenescribe]

Saw a post about an AU where Silver was kidnapped in the Ghost Marriage instead of Idia and thought it was a fun idea. Could you write it for fic frenzy? Particularly Lilia kicking down the doors to save his son?

[✐] ficlet frenzy

Slam!

“STOP THE WEDDING!”

A familiar voice bellows through the air, one that causes Silver to perk up, a sliver of hope finally filling his heart. He twists his eyes in the direction of the sound, as far as he can, to catch the figure in the doorway — Lilia, his father, decked out in an elegant suitor’s suit, a dark vest over a collared shirt, a fancy green jacket draped around his shoulders.

The ghost bride startles at him, lips twisting into a frown. “What do you want?” she asks, before her eyes widen with recognition. “That hair… Are you one of the wedding crashers?! Don’t you dare try to ruin my extra-special day!”

Silver stares at his father with pleading eyes. Surely he will get him out of this mess? Silver regrets getting him entangled in this to begin with, but… the prospect of dying and spending his eternal afterlife with this rather obsessive ghost isn’t exactly what he wishes to do.

Silver isn’t sure what he expects. Perhaps he had expected his father to fight back — the ghost bride didn’t seem like she would go down without a fight, after all. But when Lilia’s scowl smooths over into a pout, arms folded as he strides forward, Silver blinks in confusion. “I’m afraid you have forgotten something crucial when it comes to a wedding,” Lilia says in a terse voice.

“And what would that be?”

“Why, asking your suitor’s father for his hand in marriage, of course!”

Dead silence. Silver stares, mouth parting in utter shock. All of a sudden, he can feel many, many eyes landing upon him, stares from the other paralysed students, the ones who’d tried — and failed — to rescue him. This is the way their secret gets revealed?

Then again, he reasons with himself, if it’s to save him…

The ghost bride startles, eyes blown wide. “His hand in marriage?” she echoes. “But… Oh, I had never even considered the thought! Are you implying that you are his father?”

“Why, of course I am!” Lilia scoffs, thoroughly irritated, hands resting on his hips.. “Who else could possibly raise such a diligent and dutiful boy?”

“So that means… Oh, I must ask you for his hand in marriage? Would you possibly consider it, dear future father-in-law?”

So this is how Father chose to deal with the situation, Silver thinks as he watches Lilia get into a drawn out argument with the now-worried ghost bride. Not with violence, but with wedding traditions…

…It is a rather good plan, he decides, a smile slipping onto his face.

[ronearoundblindly]

ok im feeling the kiss list sm!! im feeling angsty... so steve x reader with #4 or #26?? love u <3333

#4 (a kiss where it hurts) was double requested, so this is #26-- *this* one isn't angsty although technically could be considered a wee tinybit smidgenly dark if you squint real hard. Sorry this is not even remotely edited and all over the place and just *sighs* yeah okay enjoy!

Steve Rogers x reader: a kiss as an apology

I'm So, So...Sorry, a tale for Valentine's 2024

Summary: Grant, a guest at your middle-of-nowhere motel, has needs not covered by the usual turn-down service.

Warnings: *screams and bites pillow* WHY. WHY???? omg, this just...ack...smut. Nomad Steve being needy and touch-starved just ruined my life. 😭😭😭 DUB-CON adjacent b/c Steve loses control. Please send him help. MINORS DNI 18+ ONLY. There's plenty else to read on my Light Masterlist, but this ficlet is for adults! WC 2022

To look at him, you’d think this dude can fuck, but it turns out that the absolutely huge man checking into your family’s small rural motel doesn’t know the first thing about flirting, much less sex.

You have no idea what ‘Grant’ and his friend ‘Tom’ were really whispering about over the breakfast table that one morning weeks ago, but later that night Grant came by the office, restless and unable to sleep.

He just talked to you. It was all superficial conversation about the area, the weather, what activities you liked on your days off. Even that seemed a struggle for him—thinking up casual questions. He could look you in the eye up until he had to respond, and he didn’t give many answers in return.

You laughed--you had to—when Grant asked if he could walk you to your door, which…is ludicrous because it’s a house a whopping fifty meters down the way from strip of rooms.

“I could walk,” he shrugs. “I’ll probably do a lap or two anyway.”

“Well, I have to wait for Clark to show up, but—“ you look him up and down “—okay.”

Twenty minutes later, the craziest thing happened.

An elk walked right in front of you on the path, and you jumped back, slamming into the wall of muscle the was your escort. You were both perfectly still as it moved.

Then that thing squawked and stamped huge hoofs. You threw your weight backward and spun to flee, clambering over Grant’s body.

Why you were so scared, who knows; you should be used to the wildlife.

The most shocking thing, however, is how strongly he tried to hold you still.

The harsh grip on your waist and the way he hissed through his teeth for you to stop should have been your hint, but instead you clung to him harder, asking if the animal was gone.

“Uh…” Grant tenses against you. “It’s…it’s just—“ he shudders when you wriggle closer “—yes, gone,” he bites out, pushing you away by the hips.

He takes a second to breathe, then, “let’s get you home.”

‘Grant’ is now properly called ‘Steve’ in private.

It took a while for him to trust you. He and ‘Tom’—whose real name you still don’t know—have been back and forth to the motel several times. You don’t talk about other guests. You don’t gossip. You don’t pry because that is just the nature of your business.

Steve’s initial five o’clock shadow has come in nicely. The first time he returned with the full beard, you couldn’t help yourself and brushed your fingers through it on your way back from handing him his key over the counter. The way he looked at you…devastating.

Tom made his own, very knowing face, and winked.

“You should do that more. Touch him. He could use it.”

Steve cleared his throat harshly and blushed, accidentally leaving a small bag on the ground when he rushed to the door.

“He was joking. It was a joke,” Steve blurted when he found you standing there to give it back.

You just smiled and said Tom wasn’t wrong.

“So, if you ever just want a hug…” you muttered.

That’s how this started.

A tentative embrace where only the top of his chest touched you led to a lovely full-body hug, and then he held you a touch longer, so your hand went to his hair and…

Steve whined and crashed you two against the wall outside his room, righting himself almost immediately, excusing the behavior, and rushing back inside. You couldn’t let that stand though. You stopped the door before it closed.

“Hey, it’s okay. I can be here, if you want, to hold.”

Steve’s eyes were one of the only things you could see in the dark room.

You took a chance and reached out to scratch at his bearded cheek again. “Not like you’re gonna hurt me, Stevie.”

So he melted into your hand, eye’s rolling as if drunk on the feeling, and you stepped in to hug him.

You can’t count the number of times you’ve had to tell him ‘it’s okay,’ but at least Steve doesn’t stop everything to apologize each time. Convincing him not to be self-conscious of how his body reacts to touch took a while.

He humped your leg like a puppy while you played with his hair. He came in his pants while you gave him a back rub. He cried when you kissed over his arms and chest.

You’ve told him it’s all okay.

He tries so hard not to smile when he checks back in, but he waits until your shift ends to have you fall asleep in his arms.

You’ve told him it’s okay to fall asleep in your arms, too.

Genuinely, the best part of the whole arrangement is that he will let you do anything to him. He’s fine being petted and fawned over, teased for being more ripped than jeans in the ‘90s—except for he didn’t understand that joke, sadly,—and it’s okay because you get it. He doesn’t tell you any personal information. He barely told you his name. He’s probably figured out that you aren’t an idiot and have put two-and-two together, but he keeps quiet, too.

He lets you keep touching him because he enjoys it.

Aside from the average hug and a simple spooning hold, Steve only ever touches you when you put his hand somewhere. (Right, except for the leg humping, but that was adorable so who cares! He wasn’t even doing that to touch you; poor thing needed friction, is all.) Anyway, since he’s been so excited about everything you’ve wanted to do to him, you push your luck.

The recent days have been all about Steve completely naked and at your mercy, which is, of course, still focused on making him feel good, but tonight is the very first night you are also naked. It’s meant to be a profound comfort—your weight atop him, maximum skin-to-skin contact—and it is.

He’s warm and stretched out like a cat in the sun beneath you, smiling, resting his eyes as dusk takes over the sky. You fall asleep to the sound of his heartbeat but don’t notice until he’s gently shaking you awake.

“You’re…you were squirming a lot. Thought you might be having a nightmare.”

Steve’s voice is husky. His grip on your arm is deliberately stationary until you shift to slide off of him.

His hand flies down to the back of your knee but not before you feel the hard length of his erection move from its perch at your ass to press flush on the back of your thigh.

“Don’t,” he whispers. “Just ignore it.”

You’re surprised he’s so shy after all you’ve been through for this. How can he doubt?

You stretch up to his face, straddling his abs for stability. “Stevie,” you say with soft fingers carding through his long hair, “you know it really is okay. You know that.”

He hums, his cock jumping against your ass while he squeezes your knee. He exhales shakily when you drag the back of your nails down his arms and sit up. Too dark to see, all you can go by is what you hear and feel.

“As long as you’re okay—“ you press into his pecs to lift yourself over his hips “and this is okay for you, right?”

It’s hard to hide how desperate he’s made you, but the issue is mutual based on how Steve groans when you settle your folds along the length of him. He clenches his ass so hard, it lifts you and sends a surge of heat to your core.

There’s a shuffling noise by his head.

“Is that a ‘yes?’ Are you alright?”

The shuffling repeats, accompanied by a strangled “yes.” He clenches again, and your arousal finally slicks his hot skin beneath you.

You keep your hands braced on his chest as you start to move, tiny pulses at first, and the poor thing is too sensitive.

He’s a panting mess by the time your slick is spread over him.

“No,” he whines, and you stop, thinking it’s too far to push him. “Too soon.”

“Shh, it’s okay to come. Remember, Stevie? That’s good. We can stop but—“

His other hand clamps onto the meat of your thigh. “Don’t. Don’t stop. I just…”

“Then we’ll do this again. Don’t worry,” you coo, rolling your hips from his root to tip.

He sounds tortured with little pleas and whimpers escaping before each guttural moan. He only lasts a few more thorough pumps. The spurts of cum graze your clit as he finishes on his stomach, shot as far as your wrists still above his chest, and for the first time with Steve you’re disappointed you can’t immediately keep going. You were getting very close, too, very fast.

It pains you to peel your sticky pussy off of him to get tissues, but you praise him the whole way.

“Please,” he rasps, taking hold of your arm as the last is wiped up, “more?” He’s breathless. “I can do better.”

You smile in the dark, excited for the possibility but afraid to push him. “Stevie, you did great. Rest for—“

“No, I—I want…I mean, can I touch you this time?”

Oh.

Oh.

“Sure,” you gulp, “that’d be nice.” If by ‘nice’ you mean ‘I’ve just creamed myself at a single question’ then yes, very nice.

He wants you in the same position straddling him, but that’s so he can spread his hands and run his fingertips over the most of you. He’s softened as he starts exploring you, but his lingering fascination with your breasts makes you wetter and wetter. He likes how you purr and gasp as he pinches and kneads. He likes to pull at your thighs until he gets handfuls of your ass.

He gets hard again off of your moans and tucks his cock between you while you instinctively ride him. It’s still only him deliciously fucking your folds until the repeated swipe of his head over your clit tips you to the edge, and your nails dig into his skin to draw down with the coil in your belly.

The angle catches him at your entrance, a shallow thrust that has you crying out lewdly, and suddenly, you’re on your back, Steve’s huge body pinning you to the mattress, one elbow propping himself by your chest, his other hand brutally spreading your ass to accommodate him.

You’re overwhelmed by the power he exerts over you. He suckles and nips at your breasts, cock so deep it pushes your insides to make way, and what starts as an average orgasm just wipes you out in a cascade of sharp pleasure.

Your hand grip blindly at his hair and back, choking on screams of profanities he wouldn’t appreciate, and he wraps his arms under you, bending you in an arch, chest to chest, while his hot breath rolls over your sweat-cooled throat.

You feel his lips open wide, but Steve goes silent until spent.

Finally, his last slow pistons calmed in halted combustion, he nuzzles his head to the crook of your neck.

Your fingers are frozen where buried in his hair.

In the dim moonlight you can see his ass twitch, jolting in over-stimulation while he gently pulls out of you. He props himself up, posture small and timid for such broad shoulders.

He hovers above you while you try to read each other’s expressions.

“I…I…” he starts quietly, looking over and over your features.

His chin ticks closer, hesitates, and then descends so his lips can capture yours. It’s so quick and chaste, like any other first kiss, but all out of order.

“I’m sorry,” he says, the words cracking in his guilt. “I couldn’t help it. I couldn’t stop.”

You pull him down to you, properly melding your mouth to his, beginning your next lesson already, then let him come up for air.

“It’s okay, Stevie. You can still walk me home.”

A/N: *drops bath bomb to froth in the pool of Tumblr* *runs away* Don't ask me wtf just happened because I don't know. It just consumed my whole day.

[psst. This became a whole series. 'Hideout' Masterlist]

Bucky Barnes and a kiss as encouragement ⬅️ ➡️ Jake Jensen and a kiss where it doesn't hurt

[Main Masterlist; Ko-Fi]

Tags: I'm also adding the people who showed interest in this concept earlier. You will not be tagged beyond this unless you ask! @mrs-barnes-rogers-writes @bstorn @rogersbarber @cevansbaby-dove @nowandajenn @jesevans @justherebecausesafarisucks @supraveng @1950schick @patzammit @whiskeytangofoxtrot555 @yiiiikesmish @ashesofblackroses @spectre-posts @jaqui-has-a-conspiracy-theory @brandycranby @buckysprettybaby @ellethespaceunicorn @bucky-fricking-barnes-reads @fallinallinmendes @deandreamernp

[impsandstars]

Ficlet: Cookies

Stolas stared at Blitz’s door for what felt like ages. There had been a few other residents who walked by as he awkwardly stood there and although they gave him an odd look (he had to crouch to not bump his head on the ceiling) they simply shrugged and continued on.

It wasn’t that he didn’t want to knock (he always wanted to see Blitz), but he was…apprehensive. He was doing something he had never done before and that small voice in the back of his mind that he had been working on silencing was making him doubt. He knew Blitz would be nothing but supportive and caring but…what if this time was different?

His hands tightened around the soft tulle of the delicately wrapped bag and he looked down.

He had made cookies.

Not just any cookies, but horse shaped sugar cookies.

It was the first time he had ever baked and with Via's help (both with the baking and the decorating) they hadn’t turned out half bad. Well not half bad for a first try…

Stolas had wanted to make them for Blitz because he could. Because he liked the idea of doing something unexpected and getting Blitz to smile at him. A soft smile, one that assured him that he was enough, that he made Blitz just as happy as the imp made him.

He huffed and took a step back.

He couldn’t do this. Not face to face.

With his heart pounding he dropped the cookies onto the floor right in front of the door and knocked gently.

He heard movement from the other side and quickly portaled himself back to his bedroom.

Taking out his phone he opened up the messaging app and found Blitz.

Hello dear! Just wanted to let you know I left you a treat outside your door. They are cookies, in the shape of horses! I found the cutter rummaging through some old boxes and knew I had to make them for you! It was my first time baking so if you don’t want to eat them you don’t have to. I also added some walnuts for texture but they got a bit burnt. We tried a few and it didn’t seem to mess with the flavor! Most of them are lopsided though and the frosting got a bit messy on some of them…You know what they probably aren’t any good. I’m sorry for bringing them over. You can just throw then away or give them to a neighbor. Don’t worry about it at all!

Stolas hit send and sat heavily on the couch in his room, smacking his forehead lightly with how ridiculous he was being. Why would Blitz want cookies from him? Horribly misshaped monstrosities. He will probably hate them for that alone, destroying one of favorite animals with his attempts at decoration.

His placed his phone on his nightstand and made his way to the greenhouse to focus on something else.

—o—

A few hours later Stolas walked back into his room, clothes covered in soil and water stains, feeling a bit better.

He was about to make his way over to take a bath when he heard his text alert.

A chill ran down his spine but he found himself moving to pick it up.

There were 6 messages. All from Blitz.

Taking a breath he opened his phone and went back to the first few texts, time stamped about an hour ago.

Im sure ther fine Stols. getin grosherries tho. Looney got tem

I hav named tem all

looney ate 4, i hav had 7

The last three messages were images. The first one was all the horses placed onto a large piece of paper. Written next to each horse in Blitz's handwriting was a name and a little blurb about them. Stolas zoomed in and read all of them, chuckling at some of the ridiculous names. What in hell's name was a dilf?

The next picture was one of Loona biting into a cookie while flipping off the camera. He smiled wide at that too.

The last text Blitz had sent just a moment ago and seeing it made Stolas's heart go all aflutter. On the paper, beneath two cookies, Blitz had drawn a tail and horns on one and a top hat and tail feathers on the other. He had moved the horses close so it looked like they were kissing and had drawn hearts around them.

His phone pinged and a new message appeared: look ther in love

He checks ached with how wide he was smiling and he held the phone to his chest. Oh Blitzy…for someone who has scoffed at romance you sure know how to make me swoon.

Stolas was about to reply back when another message popped up.

we have eten all the kookees. They wer good

Stolas felt his cheeks warm and he smiled softly.

I’m so glad you both liked them! Maybe next time you can come over and we can make them together. ;)

iz a date

Stolas hooted happily and began to search up all the different things they could bake together, wondering idly if he should invite Via and Loona too.

[porcelainmortal]

✨ and imma let you choose the pairing you want to write for, for ficlet Friday!

Thanks for the ask, Nico!!

I went with firstprince (of course) and a college au. Hope you enjoy!

✨ Make You Mine - Firstprince

Let it never be said that Alex Claremont-Diaz doesn’t go after what he wants. And right now, what he wants is to kiss the lips of the gorgeous blond across the room at this frat party. So what if he thought he was mostly straight until a few minutes ago? And so what if the only guy he’s kissed before tonight was his best friend in high school, who’s now openly gay and doesn’t talk to him anymore? It’s all ancient history, as far as Alex is concerned, because right now, all he can think about is what those lips would feel like and taste like between his own.

“Henry Fox,” the girl to his right says. 

“Hm?”

“The blond guy you’re staring at? That’s Henry Fox. He’s in my Historical Women’s Lit class.”

“Oh,” Alex replies, taking a fortifying sip of his drink. He can’t even taste it anymore.

“He’s gorgeous, right? Pretty sure he’s gay,” she sighs forlornly. Alex’s heart leaps into his throat. “He has a rainbow pride flag pin on his backpack and my best friend Josh said he got a blowjob from him once.”

“Was it any good?”

“What?”

“What,” Alex says quickly, as if he’s not suddenly picturing those lips wrapped around his own cock. That would be obscene, especially while standing in the middle of a crowded room talking to a girl from his Econ class whose name he can’t remember. Megan? Maggie– Mags? Something along those lines.

“Are you into him?”

No, but I’d like to be, his brain supplies unhelpfully.

“Um,” Alex hedges, drawing the word out. The longer he stares at Henry, smiling and laughing with a couple of people, the more impossible he finds it to deny. “Yeah. Yup, I’m into him.”

“Well? What’re you waiting for?”

Alex glances at the girl, staring at him with raised eyebrows and an expectant look on her face. Suddenly, he realizes that she was about to ask him a question earlier, before the conversation got sidetracked. He remembers thinking she was pretty, and then Henry had walked into the room.

“I’m so sorry, you were going to ask me something.”

She laughs and rolls her eyes. “Yeah, I was going to ask you out. I thought you were straight. But then I saw the way you were looking at him, and I knew my chances were shot.”

“I’m sorry,” Alex winces. “I think I’m bi.”

“You think?” She asks, laughing again, more gently this time.

“Yeah… it’s new? But also, definitely not new.” Alex looks back over at Henry, who glances up at that moment and catches Alex staring. Holy shit, his eyes are so blue. “Yep. Bi.”

“Well, go get ‘im, tiger,” she says, slapping him on the arm. “I’m gonna go get another drink and find out if Rob from class is single.”

“See ya,” Alex nods as he starts making his way across the room. 

Henry holds eye contact as Alex makes his way over, which he takes as a good sign. One of Henry’s companions stepped away at some point, but there is an attractive black man at his side who’s grinning widely in Alex’s peripheral. 

“Hi there,” Alex offers with a smile, trying to come off as smooth despite how his heart is hammering his ribcage. 

“Hello,” Henry says softly.

“I, uh… wanted to introduce myself. My name’s Alex.” Alex switches his Solo cup to left hand and holds out his right. Henry takes it, his palm warm and soft in Alex’s grip.  

“Nice to meet you, I’m Henry Fox,” he replies in a smooth accent. 

“Fuck me,” Alex breathes. 

“Sorry?”

The man to Henry’s left is still smiling and looking between them like he’s watching a particularly exciting tennis match. 

“Sorry. I just, uh… wasn’t expecting the accent.”

“Oh,” Henry nods. Alex registers that they’re still holding hands and releases Henry from his grip.

“I’ll leave you to it,” the dark-skinned man says, tossing Henry a look before stepping away. 

Alex feels kind of bad about his manners, having completely ignored the other guy, but he’s on a mission here. 

“I was wondering if you wanted to get a drink with me?” Henry looks down to where they are both holding cups with liquid in them. Alex follows his gaze and chuckles. “You know what I mean.”

Henry looks at Alex for a beat, his gaze heating as blue eyes bore into him.

“I’d love to, Alex.”

And, okay, there is no fucking reason for him to say Alex’s name like that, unless his palm is also still tingling from when they touched and sending electric sparks straight to his groin. Alex smiles and reaches for Henry’s hand again. 

“Let’s go, sweetheart.”

Let it never be said that Alex Claremont-Diaz doesn’t go after what he wants.

Ficlet Friday Prompts

[dollarstoreartsupplies]

For the Drabble/doodle prompt:

Fem!Reddie But I’m a Cheerleader AU

ohhhh babey hell yeah

me and @haaawaiianshirt actually discussed this au like a million years ago but I genuinely can't remember who was who, so after like a full forty five minutes of staring at a wall, thinking about Them, I reengineered it to make eddie megan... except she still gets to be a little butch

ficlet below cut:

i haven't written these babies in so long so I sincerely apologize if im rusty but have some Eddie-specific, non-canon scene, but i'm a cheerleader vibes:

Eddie… didn’t quite see it working out like this.

Which to be perfectly fair, isn’t, like out of the picture. The past almost two months have been exclusively didn’t quite see it working out like this. 

Being accused of lesbianism, being sent to conversion therapy, and, goddamnit, especially not the accusation being right.

But when she’d been sitting outside the office, panic coursing through her nervous system, waiting, Eddie had genuinely thought that she was going to lie. She was fully prepared to pretend she was straight, to say that none of it had ever happened. That she’d never loved Richie Tozier and she was so, horribly, incredibly excited to graduate into a dull, mind-numbingly pink life of heterosexuality.

Richie was going to look at her with huge, betrayed eyes. Richie was going to get kicked out. She’d already carved out a place in her brain for the guilt.

Eddie was a good girl, Eddie was a catholic girl, Eddie was her mother’s perfect daughter, Eddie was a fucking cheerleader. Richie was the brave, snarky, proud-to-be-a-dyke one, not her.

But for some fucking reason, staring her mother down as tears and snot dripped down her face, demanding she reconsider, while Robert fucking Gray in neat little blue suit grinned at her and told her she could have a second chance, she couldn’t do it. Fuck that, she’d thought, considering a life of boyfriends and a raised ranch in the suburbs and two and a half kids, Fuck that.

Richie had said she was braver than she fucking thought that night, her hand slid under her skirt in the back of the Cocksucker, her voice all soft and smiley and genuine. She hadn’t really realized that she’d meant it comparatively. That Eddie was brave because Richie wasn’t.

Maybe that wasn’t fair. Eddie just… doesn’t know how to feel fair right now. 

She was supposed to leave with her and she hadn’t.

(The spot in her head she’d reserved for betraying-Richie guilt has been instead taken up with the image of Richie herself, pale and crying and more quiet than she’d ever seen her be, mouthing silent ‘I’m so sorry’s. With the words, ‘It’s been decided, then. Richie will do the simulation with Connor. Edith, you can go.’)

Adrien and Don had told her to take her time with the whole thing. Stan had rolled their eyes and told her that she’d get over it. She doesn’t think either of them are fucking right.

Not when she’s so fucking mad and confused, and every time she closes her eyes she pictures Conner fucking Bowers, sleazy, gay Conner Bowers, simulating sex that she knows Richie doesn’t want to have. 

She stares hard at the ceiling of her new bedroom. It’s smaller than her one at home, the walls painted a bright, angry red, and self-help books and dyke memoirs and magazines she knows you can’t buy in the grocery stores unsubtly sitting on the bedside table. 

It’s a weird, hands off sort of acceptance she’s not used to. And it’s better than her Mother’s cloying need to have control, but it almost makes her uncomfortable.

She doesn’t know what the fuck she’s doing, in general and as a fucking lesbian and… god, maybe it’s selfish but she almost wishes Richie were here just so she could tell her the steps. 

Richie was the same age as her, sure, but she had more experience with this whole thing. She’d kissed girls, she knew what fucking… scissoring meant, she was good at it, she had the fucking training hours and everything that Eddie specifically lacked. 

(Though, she realizes, maybe that's the difference.

Richie knew. Richie came into this whole thing well aware she was a lesbian. From what she’d whispered, hidden in the dark corners of New Horizons, when they’d stopped making out just long enough to talk, it’d been one of the openly apparent things everyone around her knew and hated since she was thirteen. 

All her sex talk and bold sexuality shit that Eddie’d been so intimidated by at first, that she kind of longs for now, was just a defense mechanism that could be easily broken down and manipulated. 

Eddie… had honestly just never considered the idea before her mom sent her away.

Having sex with Conner would have grossed her out before, probably. She’d never even wanted to kiss Myran when they were dating, and now that she knew why, she wasn’t about to back down.

Somehow, Richie having more time to figure everything out made it even more complicated.

Christ, it’s not like any of this shit feels simple for Eddie, though.)

Without thinking about it she kicks herself off her bed and slams into the bathroom. 

‘Sweetheart, don’t worry about being a perfect lesbian,’ Adrian had soothed when she’d shown up, crying with suitcases, ‘Just worry about being yourself.’

It’d probably been good advice. If she’d known who the fuck she was.

She knew she was a cheerleader, that one had just been a fact.

She knew she was a lesbian, she’d figured that one out fast and then let it sink it incredibly slowly. 

She knew she was angry and she knew she was sad, and she knew that Richie might have had a point about her being brave. And that one had been after doing something impulsive and maybe stupid. 

She doesn’t really have time to recreate the first two, slowly burned life changes, but she can probably do the impulsive stupid one again. 

The least she could do was try, she thinks, digging in one of the drawers under the sink until she finds what she’s looking for. 

Her hair falls in clumps as she hacks at it with dull, bathroom cabinet scissors, uneven and probably ugly and she’s gonna have to get someone to fix it. Suddenly, though, she doesn’t think she gives a shit. 

She wonders if it’s a cliche, a dyke with short hair. She’s not necessarily sure she cares any more. Her head feels lighter than it ever has. 

She wonders why the fuck she hadn’t done this earlier, short hair would be so much easier for cheer than a fucking hair-sprayed stiff blow out. 

She wonders if Richie would like it. 

Richie. 

Fuck.

(Mother fucker… well, impulsive and stupid worked twice, right?)

She slams into Stan’s bedroom, the sudden plan shaking its way out of her skin too hard to take anything slow. They blink up from their book and look her over, cocking an eyebrow, “Nice hair.”

“Thank you,” She grins, feeling hot all over and shaky and kind of like she’s gonna pass out. Just, in a good way, somehow, “Wanna go crash the graduation tomorrow?”

[12romy]

Need a one shot of Lewis comforting Charles (because he has experience with this from before)(or them comforting each other) after the disqualifications today to be able to move on😭 im speechless.

Oh anon, trust me, I can't believe it either... This is so messed up, we really can't have anything good. My poor babies...

Here's a little ficlet, I hope it will cheer you up ❤️

It's a little poetic, Charles thinks, that they picked a picture of the two of them congratulating each other to announce their disqualifications. A little cruel, too.

Lewis is curled up against him, his cheek resting on Chalres' chest. It's still a bit damp with tears, wetness piercing through the fabric of his tee-shirt.

He doesn't mind. He lets Lewis cry all he needs because what else can he do? He had been magnificent the entire weekend, not making a single mistake. Charles is used to be let down by his team, Lewis, not quite yet. He hopes it'll never get as bad, that Lewis will never have to be used to that kind of things.

They cried, they talked, they cried a bit more, and they kissed. They didn't have sex, but it has been a while since they used that as a way to cheer each other up. It's better this way, better to keep negative feelings out of the bedroom.

Lewis' motorhome was in a terrible state, when Charles sneaked inside, and he can't blame him. It's really not in Lewis' nature to lash out like this, he tend to keep everything inside and plaster a smile on his face. It's good to know even he has his limits, no matter how good he got at losing.

Lewis also monologued for a solid ten minutes about how he hated Mercedes, and Toto, and everyone involved. About how he should dump their sorry ass and go drive to redbull.

He can get a bit dramatic, and none of his words are to be taken seriously, of course. It isn't often that Lewis can say things without any consequences, so Charles let him.

He would've found it funny, even, if he wasn't busy wallowing on their messed up races.

Lewis is probably asleep, Charles guesses from his quiet, regular breath.

Charles should sleep, too, but he can't. There's something in him that's too restless for it.

He feels Lewis move against him, hear him take a long inspiration that tells him he's awake.

"I can hear you think," he hums, the sound resonnating in Charles' chest, and he feels overwhelmed with love at this instant.

"I'm gonna leave Ferrari," he says simply. Lewis lifts up his head, looking at him with piercing eyes, and nods before plopping his head back against him.

Charles doesn't need to precise he's being serious.

"I'll support you no matter what," Lewis says softly.

"I know," he replies, and kiss the top of Lewis' head. Then, after a few minutes of silence: "Let's go get dinner and celebrate. I'm talking fancy restaurant, maybe hit a bar, after."

"Celebrate what, our DSQ?" Lewis snorts, unkind, annoyed.

"No, but it took me four years to come to this decision. And you deserve a proper way to celebrate your podium. It doesn't matter if it was taken from you, you fucking deserved it. You've been amazing, mon amour."

He can hear Lewis cry again more than see him, as he buried his face against Charles' chest once again.

"Okay," Lewis agrees eventually, a hint of a smile in his voice. "I know just the place. But this time, you let me pick your clothes. No way I'm letting you wear those ugly pants."

"Whatever you want, Lew," Charles smiles. They will be fine.

[angrelysimpping]

I was referring to the ficlet where the pc just uses him for sex while he’s in love with them!! Sorry for not clarifying well enough!! 😸😸

God im sorry this took forever for me to answer ><"""

Continuation of this

AMAB Bailey (he/him); GN Reader (you/your); dubcon ish; rough sex

Words: 623

It’s ridiculous, what he’s doing. Bailey knows this. He knows that he’s being ridiculous, that you’re manipulating him.

How could he not when he practically raised you? 

Yet, here you are again, hands on his shoulders and face tucked into his neck, moaning about how he feels so good stretching you out as you bounce on his cock.

You’re just using him, taking advantage where you can. Your one shot at controlling anything in your miserable little life, and you chose to try to make him into your personal dildo.

You'll regret that. He'll make sure you do. 

His grip on you tightens, rough hands on your waist making you still, fingers digging into your already heavily bruised skin and pulling a whine from you. The sound quickly morphs into one of pleasure as his hips snap up, fucking into you. 

His cockhead presses against a spot inside you that leaves you babbling into his skin, slurring his praises as you come undone. Even as your hole tries to milk his cock for all he’s worth, he keeps going, hips snapping up into yours at a brutal pace. It’s not long before you’re lifted up and pressed into his desk, limp and pliant under his hands as you get the rough fuck that you craved so much that you went and threw yourself at the caretaker.

Do you even know exactly how you affect him? He hopes you don’t. Hopes you have no clue how often his mind drifts to you, how fury burns through him every time he sees you smiling at anyone else. It's preferable you come stumbling into the orphanage, limping with bloody cum on your thighs, then have you laughing with someone else, brushing their hair behind their ear and cradling their face in your palms.

He doesn’t want that. He doesn’t want your gentle touches or your soft smiles. But, he doesn't want you giving them to anyone else, either. 

You’re crying, tears wetting his neck as you push weakly at his shoulders, overstimulated but unable to make him stop. He won’t stop. You both know it. He won’t stop until he’s painted your insides white. It’s the least he deserves after you’ve gone and done this to him. Made him break his own rules and fuck one of his wards. Bailey thinks so, anyway.

It’s when he finally cums, keeping your hips up and pressing in so deep that you squirm, that he lets you go.

You lay like that for a moment, exhausted on his desk, spent hole twitching and leaking his cum. It’s a nice sight. Something he should take a photo of, one of these days. Keep it in his wallet and pull it out the next time you try to mouth off to him in front of the other brats. Show them all how you kept coming back for his cock.

Before you have a chance to collect yourself, Bailey reaches out. Dragging calloused fingers through his cum on your thighs, it’s an almost tender action. That is, it’s tender until the digits are roughly shoved into your sore hole. You writhe on the desk, gasping and mewling, but you don’t try to stop him. That fact alone almost has Bailey back between your thighs, cock twitching in interest as you clamp down on his fingers. 

He doesn’t, pulling his fingers out of you, wiping excess fluids on your thigh.

Shakily, you slide from the desk, knees almost buckling as you struggle to stand. Bailey’s eyes follow you as you get dressed, slipping from his office without glancing back at him. Just like you always do.

Ridiculous. Fucking ridiculous. 

Yet, he knows the next time you come knocking, he’ll still let you in.

[part 3]

[benasabrina]

Could u write about Kakashi coming home from a long mission and see Anko sleeping with a tiny baby bump ty<3

ANON, MY DEAR FRIEND!! I am writing this fluff thanks to yooooou!

Edit: IM SO SORRY FOR TAKING SO LONG!! I hit a writing funk for like two years 🥺🥺 But here’s the fic!!

Ficlet under read more~

Kakashi had always thought he'd be used to long missions away from Konoha. It gave him some quiet time, away from everyone, to reflect on his past and things he could do for his future.

But, this time around, he has someone waiting for him at home. Someone he's happy to call his significant other, despite them only doing so in private. Kakashi's still happy all the same, regardless.

It has been a long three and a half months and while the mission was successful, he just wanted to go home and embrace the woman he grew to love even more while being away.

"Anko..." he breathed and decided to pick up the pace to make it home by morning. A faint smile formed under his mask as he jumped from branch to branch. Hopefully, she'd be happy to see him too.

xXx

As the sun light broke over the horizon, Kakashi crossed the gate into Konoha. He skid to a stop, faint dust picking up behind him, and took a moment to catch his breath. The silver-haired Jonin glanced over to his left and saw the guardsmen. Nodding his head in hello, Kakashi took in one last breath and calmly walked the rest of the distance to see her... to see Anko Mitarashi.

While they both haven't been sending each other messages via hawk, snake, or hound, Kakashi knew that Anko was fine... right? At least, he hoped. Truth be told, not hearing anything for those three and half months made him a bit nervous. Things were fine between them. They had to be.

Soon enough, he saw her apartment coming up and jumped the rest of the distance to her door step. Since it was so early, he opted to using the key she gave him and slipped in quietly. Once entered, he took off his sandals, backpack, and discarded his flak jacket. Kakashi decided to say good morning to her before he decided to take a shower (thankfully he has some toiletries at her place) and removed his headband. Blinking to restore some sense of vision in his Sharingan eye, he sighed then made a beeline to Anko's room.

He cracked the door open and smiled at the sight of her. His eyes travelled along her body and came to rest on... "Huh?" he whispered and tiptoed to see her closer.

The blankets were resting at her hips and left a soft mound exposed on her abdomen. Had she put on some weight? he thought to himself. No where else seemed so… plump. Her face was still slender as were her arms and thighs.

But her belly? He shook his head. Even if she did put on some weight, he loved her all the same! Kakashi’s gaze traveled back up to her sleepy features and he smiled once again. He leaned down and placed a gentle kiss on her cheek.

This caused her to stir. An eye opened up blearily and suddenly both eyes shot open when she realized who was in her room. “‘Kashi?” she mumbled tiredly. “You’re home already?” Anko stretched and carefully contorted herself to sit up. She pulled the blanket up and ended up not bringing up her belly. “I thought you weren’t coming home til the end of the week?”

Kakashi shrugged and stretched as well. “Mission ended up ending earlier. So I made a beeline here.”

She smirked. “I can tell, go shower.”

He laughed and lowered his mask, then he felt the need to get serious. “Are you okay?” Kakashi asked gaze going towards her abdomen.

Anko blushed and looked away. “Yeah… I am. I’m perfectly healthy still,” she mumbled. “I’m just pregnant.”

“Ah.” Kakashi stood to head to the bathroom then stopped in his tracks. The Jonin immediately turned around, eyes wide as saucers. “Wait, pregnant?!”

“Yeah? I mean, we did do it right before you left on your mission.”

“Why didn’t you tell me?”

Anko shuffled a bit uncomfortably. “Because I didn’t want to distract you from the mission..?” She felt like she was getting scolded and she groaned. “Plus I didn’t feel this would have been appropriate to, ya know, just send through hawk or dog mail.”

“Pregnant,” Kakashi trailed off and padded over to Anko once again. He looked to her for permission and once he received a nod from her, he lowered the blanket and placed a hand on her belly. “Woah.”

“Our baby is growing in there.” Anko looked to Kakashi to try and gauge his reaction. “Just letting you know, you’re not leaving me, ever. This is your kid too, and you’re stuck with the both of us.”

His gaze went to Anko’s chocolate brown irises. “I would never plan on it. You’re both stuck with me too.”

[heartscrypt]

Jamie, don't worry. Just like you, I've been thinking about JamiAzu and I, too, have not been able to create any content.

The best thing to do is to chew them in your head until something manifests on your canvas or paper. Alternatively, you can use this ask as an opportunity to talk about them. (I would love to hear your scenarios and headcanons because you understand them like I do.)

oh my god ok OKAY so. i had this fic idea rolling around in my head and the premise was basically like. the aftermath of twst events that didn't feature jamil or azul really heavily / only had small cameos but it was just jamil n azul reflecting (and maybe bonding) afterwards.

this whole thing was inspired by azul getting rejected by eliza in the phantom bride event LOL bc i thought jamil would get a kick out of it. i wanted to cover more events like wish upon a star (which i might talk about in a later post) or harveston or port fest but the phantom bride part i have like. Fully mapped out.

i only have this excerpt because. i lost motivation but if anyone wants to take this fic concept and do it justice they can :3 id just like to be tagged and credited

full outline is under the read more because God it is long. sorry. its also kind of incomprehensible because im incomprehensible about these two

but the ficlet for the first event, phantom bride, was going to take place a few hours after where the event canonically ends. jamil finds out azul got sooo rejected and laughs at him under his breath for a bit. says its because eliza could sense that he was fake as fuck all the time. azul gets frustrated and flustered bc the guy he wants so bad is currently mocking him for having NOOOO game. he's like "yeah well. you didn't participate b/c of kalim so you don't know what impossible standards she had"

jamils still used to deflecting when it comes to his competence so he'd dismissively say that of course he wouldn't have been a suitable candidate to woo the ghost even if kalim was guaranteed to not be involved. he's not that kind of guy. azul's Jamil Bullshit radar is ACTIVATED. he immediately insists that jamil absolutely Could've swayed eliza into wearing the ring and starts praising all of jamil's qualities with such a Genuine belief in jamil's abilities until jamil is the flustered one trying to beat azul's compliments off of him with a stick.

this part is really funny to me because in my head there's a scene before where jamil is telling azul that his approach failed because he always came off as disingenuous. and then here in this scene azul's so genuine that jamil's taken aback and in his head he's like "if he approached eliza the way he's approaching me NOW there's no way he would've failed." and then he promptly refuses to think about the implications of that thought for the rest of the fic. lol

anyways through the power of lovebombing and a few appeals to jamil's competitive side, azul goads jamil into demonstrating how he would've approached eliza to get the ghost sealing ring on her finger. jamil's pretending to be a suitor. one of jamil's rings (he's a jewelry guy no way he doesn't have a few rings) plays the role of the ghost sealing ring. and of course azul is the Substitute Eliza in their little pretend scenario so we get. these two indirectly flirting with each other in the weirdest fucking way possible. roleplay.

also there's a funny bit of azul mimicking something eliza actually did mid-scenario and jamil breaking out of character to be like "No Way ok Time out no way you aren't fucking with me right now" and azul responding like "no she really did say that" and jamil getting the most longsuffering expression on his face before slipping back into his princely character.

azul enjoys being the one "chased" by jamil for a change but he's always cognizant of the facade jamil's wearing while playing the role of eliza's prince. knows that that's just as much Not the true jamil as the "dutiful servant" jamil was, and is in return so totally lovestruck by how GOOD jamil is at being manipulative. not even swooned by the princely way jamils acting. he's falling head over heels for the fact that he KNOWS jamil is acting and in reality could not care less and yet is able to pull off such a convincing display. because azul's fucking crazy and his taste in men actually sucks so bad he sees all the red flags in jamil as fun little collectibles. he's mentally like "its so frustratingly attractive when he says something with that little smirk smile and we both know he's lying straight to my face but i cant call him out on it." GIRL. YOU ARE SO FAILCRINGE

on jamils end of things. yes he is pretending to be a "prince" for "eliza" but he's also hyperaware that this is azul pretending to be eliza for the sake of the scenario so. he gets a little sneaky. a little underhanded. starts doing and saying things that are targeted to catch Specifically azul off guard so azul gets flustered and breaks character for a split second. this is solely to fuck with azul and has Noooo other reason behind it (nevermind the fact that there is a giddy feeling jamil gets when he's able to crack the facade azul wears to see the real, vulnerable azul hiding underneath).

they go back and forth for a while, jamil pushing forward relentlessly while azul pulls away but always stays close (a complete reversal of their usual dynamic). but then jamil says something that's so completely him and definitely not part of the facade and azul forgets himself for a moment, forgets that they're playing pretend. lets his guard down completely. from jamils perspective, this startles him a little because he wasn't expecting it and he certainly wasn't expecting for azul to seem so convincingly enamored by him (it's because azul actually is but like jamil's kind of operating under the assumption that azul is incredibly fake all the time) and he REALLY doesn't know what to do with the realization that he likes the way azul is looking at him right now a lot more than he probably should like attention coming from someone he supposedly hates.

so he panics internally, shoves the ring onto azul's finger while azul is distracted, and tells him he can stop acting now because jamil proved his point that he Could've gotten the ring on eliza. azul snaps out of it and is like "ah. Yes. Acting. I'm so good at it Wouldn't you agree jamil" (hes pretending his inner monologue rn doesn't mainly consist of distressed dramatic bitch wailing and screaming. hes embarrassed abt being so vulnerable when they're both supposed to be acting he wants to crawl into an octopus pot and never come out). jamil's reply is smth like "yeah yeah whatever of course you're used to acting b/c you're a fraud" (his inner monologue also sounds like distressed screaming btw. less dramatic and more Full of dread and horror). moment of awkward silence where they just aren't looking at each other but azul's hand is still in jamil's (since jamil had to take his hand to put the ring on). worst handholding experience ever. 0/10

jamil breaks the silence. "i prefer it when you're not acting". on the surface its just a casual dig at azul's role at eliza but like THE WAY he says it. means something more. azul picks up on that, thinks back to all the times during the scene where jamil got him to break character for a second, the smug satisfaction on his face when azul sputtered or faltered. his first conclusion is "he wants me so bad" because he's delusional but then he reels it back a little and only says "i prefer your true self as well." jamil knows what THAT means well enough. he's starting to get suspicions that their dynamic isn't just "guy who is trying to exploit someone he sees as an opportunity x guy who fucking hates him because the other guy is a slimeball". he isn't sold on azul's intentions being all that pure though. he needs to bide his time, hang back and see whether this moment was a fluke.

they r still holding hands btw. neither of them has pulled away yet. jamil's the first to look down and Acknowledge it, silently swiping his thumb over the ring on azul's finger. drops the other's hand. says very nonchalantly that azul is going to keep the ring. azuls like "? haha i couldn't Possibly keep this. it's your ring". jamil smirks. says "keep it as a consolation prize. and a reminder of how badly you embarrassed yourself today". looks up through his eyelashes to watch for a reaction. azuls head nearly explodes. jamil knows in his gut that once azul recovers he's going to be Fucking Insufferable for the next few weeks flaunting that ring around everywhere and playing up the bond between himself and jamil but as he leaves, he can't find himself caring all that much about that as long as the other Does wear the ring.

[teashadephoenix]

Ten donna midnight comfort sex, planet of the hat Fun sex, any others? (this is me asking for tendonna sex headcanons )

btw darling im so sorry i didn't answer this when you sent it. i promise i wasn't ignoring you.

it's just that i honestly couldnt come up with anything bc sex isn't really my forte. gentle everyday fluffy intimacy? or desperate pining angst? those're my game.

like the piano and drinks ritual after really dark adventures. Donna started it after Pompeii. The Doctor plays the piano and they drink away their heartache. (im saving the actual scene for a fic, but it's when he first fell for her, and then spent several weeks chastising himself and trying to make himself stop.)

or the fact that Donna is the most curious. She's the one who was like "what if i said something in actual Latin?" and she's the one he taught to drive the TARDIS (bc you KNOW she was like SHOW ME. SHOW ME HOW. NOW.) She spends her days just absolutely harassing the man with questions and taking notes. He (not so) secretly loves it. (i also had her learn some Gallifreyan in a ficlet once and that series escalated into him singing to her, so..... The Doctor sings. That's a thing.)

They read books together in the TARDIS library. When the Doctor gets antsy he wanders over to the chess board he has set up and plays it while she reads. Usually she ends up falling asleep on the sofa with her fuzzy afghan blanket and he has to carry her back to her room. If it's the first time she's reading a classic, he makes her read it out loud to him. It always takes ages bc she stops to react to big dramatic plot twists. (And when they read a Hercule Poirot he makes her do a French accent.)

They also watch TV bc Donna has to unwind. ("Do you live your life like that?" "Not all the time." She makes sure it's not all the time for him.) But he's not allowed to comment on any historical inaccuracies.

There's a garden on the TARDIS where Donna planted a bed of white lilies in honor of Jenny.

...annnd that's about all i got right now. :D

[devondespresso]

1, 25, 81, 94 for the fanfic ask game! <3

KOKO HELLOOOOOOO ad thank you so much for the ask 💕���💖💞💝 i went a little wild and had to reign it back in a bit and its still pretty long so apologies in advance

(ask game we're talking about is here but i also have questions next to the answers)

1. do you know how you want the story to end when you start, or are you just stumbling through the figurative wilderness hoping to find a road?

for the vast majorty of my fics i think i have a pretty good idea of where its going to go, i think because i get the ideas of these cool scenes usually set in act 2 or 3 or i at least the vibe i want from the start and The Point is usually clear the second i put thought into it. currently the only exceptions are 1) this super secret (woooo~~~) ficlet im working on that came from a prompt so i had to spend like 3 or 4 days writing it to properly understand the direction i wanted to take it, and 2) the steve henderson au, which is fucking massive already and it's even bigger in my head stnzgns. that one you obviously know how it ends y'know, it aint the steve henderson au if steve doesnt become a Henderson, but for all the arcs i have along the way it took a while to properly figure out what i doing and how to do that and im just now figuring out what that looks like for the first major arc.

so tldr: usually i know, sometimes i gotta figure it out, but i do need to have it figured out before it can really take shape

25. what’s your revision or rewriting process like?

oof ok so i tried writing this and good fucking god explaining everything i do in editing took up so much space. so this is the short answer for convenience but if anyone wants a long answer im foaming at the mouth to talk about writing stjsnystn (the rest under the cut)

the majority of my process is editing and sometimes first drafts are literally unrecognizable from the final. a lot of how i edit line by line is intuitive/vibes based, and whole scenes/arcs/pacing/flow/theme etc etc is based on a really deconstructed thought process for storytelling, to put it as briefly as i can (because this is one of the parts that got really long) its about The Why of everything going into the story. Picking details or making decisions not based rigidly on formula or trends but instead whats best for the kind of story you want to tell (and then making sure to implement it in a way that actually does that in the story).

for small works i prefer to just change shit as i see it and not worry about doing focused passes through the work, but in the steve Henderson au i literally cannot its too fucking big smhdmyxyn so in that case i do passes that span like whole writing sessions just hyperfocused on this one thing. one of my favorite passes is in-character passes where i pick one person (often dustin bc hes a main character), rewatch them a ton to get in their headspace, and go back and make sure everything they say or do fits them as if they were the sole focus if the story. I'll also do passes to focus just on medical accuracy, passes for a specific character duos to keep their story progressing and consistent, passes for ideas that stay between the lines making sure they stay consistent and understanding how much information im conveying, character's specific mindsets that their arc is about and making sure they dont have any unintentional exceptions, literally if its a thing in the text i probably need to do a pass for it so i know its consistent

also more lighthearted stuff tends to need wayyyy less editing time and its a more balanced half solo half beta process. the easiest was the claudia henderson drabble because it was really just a backstory with an active scene or two all rooted in her outside persective.

also sometimes i just start from scratch halfway through, like mr crayola henderson has one previous half-complete version in my doc fhdlas tho i guess thats how drafts are supposed to work

and this is the tldr im sorry i dont want to cut it down any more just read this one its my favourite fdhaskl

81. if you could go back in time and give your younger self a piece of writing advice specific to you, what would it be?

honestly i wouldn't have much to tell them. i didn't start writing fanfic until july of last year?? something like that and i started with the steve henderson au. maybe don't write that one about the triggering thing lol.

actually wait no. id tell them its okay to abandon projects (and maybe tell them not to make some purchases dgnxngsyn) but ye i spent a while mourning projects because they felt like they ceased to exist, but i had several screenplay outlines that probably helped me a ton. in my writing and those experiences never leave me so their existence still had a purpose and value

tldr: dont write your very recent triggers silly goose, dont cry over abandoned art

94. do you prefer dialogue or description?

i definitely prefer dialogue, and with it action descriptions because i still think in movie-medium (tho i am getting better at understanding how the FUCK prose works and especially prose pacing oh my god why can't i just hold on an actors face for several seconds of silence gAAH!!). i like saying things without saying them, i like subtly building towards something body language until a snap, i looooove making blocking relevant in a medium where you're not even seeing the movement with your eyes, and i love getting into a characters head so far that each person has a different way to word something or a different detail they focus on or a certain tick that tells the other character whats in their head.

but i struggle with internal monologue sooooooo hard, its a practiced skill im actively working on to write a characters internal logic about something but still keeping it from being too on the nose about whats really going on. like i can do it but i struggle to fill page time with it because exploring ideas at least for me usually leads to the source and thats decidedly not where the characters going! its a tuesday afternoon! they're not unpacking shit they're trying to have a third coffee!! i also struggle finding the best words for the reader to feel the text, like idk man maybe im using the onelook dictionary wrong but it just does not get me what im looking for in under three looks zgnshnsyn

tldr: dialogue and blocking, good description is witchcraft

_

but yee thank you again for the ask dude!! this was so much fucking fun i fucking love talking about writing and the logic process behind everything. thanks anyone seeing this for actually reading this far 💕

[pokemagine]

Hey, im that anon that requested Zacian x Absol reader awhile back (I loved it!). Could I request a ficlet sequel of sorts where reader is sick in bed and Zacian helps take care of him while gently teasing him about 'last night' (bonus if a wedding proposal happens)

Sorry, this took so long! And when I saw this I freaked out a little bit. Thanks for coming back.

You woke up feeling horrible. Your head hurt, and your face felt stuffy. You wined and readjusted yourself, but it didn’t help anything. You heard your door open and looked up at the figure entering the room.

“You sore from last night?” they asked.

It was Zacian. You didn’t answer him as you continued suffering from the headache and buried your head in the bed.

“You’re not feeling well, aren’t you,” Zacian smiled, “Stay there. Let me go get you some stuff.”

“Didn’t plan on it, sir,” you groaned.

He returned with toast, water, a box of tissue, and something to help with your headache.

“Maybe all the movement last night shook something into you,” he chuckled.

You just stared at him miserably and sighed as he nudged you. You know the teasing was in jest, but you weren’t in the mood. You slowly ate the toast Zacian brought, as you didn’t want to upset your stomach. 

“You know you didn’t have to call me “sir” right?” he asked.

“I’m sorry,” you said, “it just came out. I wasn’t thinking.”

“You know, if you’re into that stuff, you can tell me. It’s not my place to judge you on what you’re into in bed,” Zacian smirked.

You sighed and looked at him unamused. 

“I’m just trying to cheer you up; being ill sucks, dude,” your boss shrugged.

“Don’t call me dude,” you said, “we had sex last night.”

“Fair”

Zacian seemed to fiddle with something.

“You know what, I’ll surprise you once you get better,” he said.

You couldn't help but smile as you had an idea of what he had planned for you.

[wolfiemcwolferson]

your writing is so pure and beautiful and makes my heart break and repair itself every chapter. im rereading the piarles blue neighbourhood story and i think ive figured it out.

you know your characters like the back of your hand. you know their motivations, what they love, how the organise themselves. you know everything about them, and it’s truly so beautiful to read. it adds so much depth and meaning to a simple sentence.

for other writers - do you have any tips for knowing your characters better? and how to develop from knowing your character into words?

Hi babes,

Sorry you sent this while I was out on hiatus recovering from Hateful Bitch Disease, but I'm back and I hope I can do this beautiful question justice.

So, I took this writing class a few years ago that told me to build characters from the outside and then go in. Like do their physical characteristics and then think about their mannerisms and trace them all back to their motivations.

That's shit advice. I tried that and I ended up not writing the characters I wanted at all.

Ultimately, you have to find a way to build characters that work for you, but the way I do it is like this:

I decide what kind of story I want to tell. I'll use Blue Neighbourhood as an example, specifically Charles.

I knew the kind of story I wanted Charles to have - I wanted him to grow in love, to bloom under a steady, unwavering love.

I thought about what that might look like - how he's hesitant and hides things without meaning to. How he doesn't share things with the group until he's backed into a corner.

I thought about what being an artist is and what that means to Charles and how I use creativity to hide sometimes. Charles mixes paint colors when he's stressed.

I thought about who he would be to Danny - how their history would influence the way he interacts with him. How that relationship would change the way Charles interacts with Max.

The complicated thing about groups is all the interpersonal relationships are different.

Getting to know them better is just thinking about them to me. I had to drive out to East County to take a load of donated goods to a shelter (2 hour round trip for me) and I thought about Charles and Pierre and the way their relationship worked and came home and wrote like 15K in two days.

As for putting them into words...I don't have a lot of advice because I write in the most chaotic way and it's not recommended, but I do recommend writing more.

If you write Tumblr ficlets for three months and nothing else? amazing.

If you write a long fic over a year? perfect.

Writing more. Developing your characters more. That's how you become a better writer.

I sent something that I wrote two years ago to a friend recently and I went back and reread it and I was like, oh this is trash because my character development and my sentence structure and everything has just gotten so so so much better and it's because I've spent the last two years writing and writing and writing.

I hope this is helpful. I hope you write and you know that your words are amazing.

[kaifish-pond-afterdark]

"What is this? A bad romance novel?"

yea, ima write some silly lil ficlets with my OCs! And im boutta draw my OC Devin in a min

Nellis grumbled to herself as she stuffed her clothes into the leaky apartment’s laundry machine, the floor had been wet and she’d almost slipped. Her hip was over-extended and throbbing, the bone was probably wretched out of place. Fucking EDS. Her cursing made her miss when her neighbor, Devin sauntered in. 

He was carrying a black laundry basket, filled to overflow with mostly black clothing. Nellis screeched an obscenity as a piece of her laundry fluttered down into a dirty puddle. “FUCKING CUNTSUCKER!” 

“You kiss your boyfriend with that mouth?” 

She whipped around, slipping on the puddle again and actually falling on her ass in the nasty water. “Wh- GODDAMNIT! FUCKER!” 

Devin looked down at her with a bemused smirk, offering her his hand after he had sat his laundry down. He leaned close as he pulled her up, dark grey eyes staring into Nellis’, she felt herself grow hot with embarrassment. Her ass and the back of her thighs and hem of her shirt were soaked. Looking like she had pissed herself. 

“I-I… Sorry I called you a fucker.” 

Devin shrugged, “I’m used to it.” His face was still so close to her’s, a vision of closing the gap and kissing him entered Nells’ mind. She pulled away instead, embarrassment darkening her cheeks, she chewed on her already jagged thumbnail, flecks of black paint peeling off. 

“Looks like I got you all wet.” Devin said, with a tone and look that did not betray at all if he meant a double entendre.

“Uh ye-yea. I…” Nells’ brain was short circuiting. She needed out of these wet pants and shirt. “I… All my clothes are dirty…”

“All of them?!” Devin seemed even more amused, “Is this the first time you’ve done your laundry since moving in our something?”

“It’s the second time if you must know!” Nells huffed, shifting miserably in her soaked clothes, on the verge of a meltdown. Goddamn Autism. 

“Well, look, I have a hoodie you can borrow. Wait here.” Before she could protest he had disappeared. 

“Fuckin dumbass.” She muttered to herself, pulling on the hem of her shirt.

She waited for what felt like an eternity, finally resolving to herself to just race back to her apartment, dirty clothes and all and hide there until Devin moved out or she died. Which ever happened first. 

“He’s probably not coming back anyways.” She muttered, shoving her dirty clothes back into her basket, turning around to leave and slamming right into Devin. She bounced off him and squeaked. 

“You doubted me that much.” He clutched his hands, that held a black hoodie and red and black striped boxers, to his chest, “You wound me!” He chuckled, while taking her laundry basket under one arm, and handing her the hoodie with the other. 

“I’ll just toss your stuff with mine, if that’s ok with you.” 

Nells just nodded, even more embarrassment coursing through her. 

“Don’t worry I wont look while you undress.” He turned to block the door so no one could enter. 

What is this? Nellis thought to herself, A bad romance novel? 

She peeled her clothes off and dressed in Devin’s, sneakily getting a deep sniff. It smelled like his cologne and laundry detergent. So good… Fuck. He’s never getting this hoodie back. 

“I-I’m dressed.” She mumbled, looking down, only glancing up shyly as Devin came to stand in front of her. 

“Damn.” He said, seeming absent-minded, “You do look good in everything.” 

Apparently it was his turn to blush, “I mean… Fuck.” He waved his hands in front of him, and gathered up the laundry, “FORGET I SAID ANYTHING!”

~*~*OK idk how to end this, so i’mma just, end on an awkward note. Bc I can ehheheeheeh >:)*~*~

[thebiggestfuckgiven]

okay i lied, i’ll have to divide it into three parts. im sorry, i think? nonetheless! we trek on, and i hope those still reading enjoy this semi-finale to this ridiculously long, supposed-to-have-just-been ficlet

———————————————

3.2 - Final Showdown

The ballroom threw itself into chaos. Attendees began screaming and shrieking as those green blobs started spilling out of what Tim knew was a portal. A portal to where? He had no clue, and no way to find out. Especially now, stuck in an emergency situation as a civilian. The worst thing to be stuck as for most bats. And in his own home of all places.

Tim’s mind set into overdrive as he assessed the situation while avoiding being trampled by the crowd.

They were running wherever they could, as far away as possible from the musician’s stage and the swirling portal above it. Most didn’t get far, though. Tim witnessed from behind a pillar as globs disappeared into people’s bodies. Just like Phantom had. Others were pulling at guests’ hair, pushing them to the ground or dragging them up to the chandelier, leaving them there to hang on for their life.

As far as Wayne Galas went, this one… was pretty bad, but not the worst. Tim held onto that.

Cutting through the clamor of panicked pleas and screams, Bruce-Phantom laughed deeply. Tim had his second phone out, going into the house’s security system. He should be able to get the doors open from here. If he activated the sprinklers, they could work as a good distraction.

A plan already formulating in his head, he got to work.

“Oh, come on,” Bruce-Phantom shouted into the microphone. “Isn’t this what you all wanted? A real party! We don’t even have to worry about the big bad bat crashing it, so have fun! And his little annoying fruit bats? We already have one less to worry about. Isn’t that right?” His voice darkened at this.

That’s when the lights went out.

A cold shard of fear crept its way into Tim’s heart against his will. The feeling caught him so off guard, his lungs spasmed and he found he couldn’t breathe. He knew what Phantom’s words meant. The ghost knew all about their alter egos, and he was going to do something about it, if he hasn’t already.

Were the others okay? Where were they?

The ice in his heart crackled outwards. The room was cold; getting colder by the minute. Everyone’s screams and cries only grew worse. He couldn’t stand it. Shit, he couldn’t move. Why was he so terrified? He’s been in worse situations, has had to deal with way bigger risks.

What was wrong with him? And what was taking them so long?

A dark chuckle reverberated impossibly throughout the loud room. Tim flinched, heart stuttering. Phantom had moved. He was close. Too close for Tim’s comfort.

Focus.

He went back to his phone, and in a few rapid but trembling clicks the sound of all the doors’ locks sliding open chorused in tune with someone’s gasping sobs. All at once, as Tim was feeling a chilling cold creeping over his shoulders, the doors swung open, the lights flickered back on, and the sprinklers went off.

Those who could took their chance. They ran straight for the doors, tumbling and sprinting while those possessed tried to hold a few of them back. Tim fought the urge to help them. He’s never fought someone possessed by a ghost before, but he could figure something out. Though, he’d have to do that regardless.

He heard the sound of claws lightly scraping against the stone pillar he hid behind, and that was all the warning he needed. Tim ducked, the breeze of Phantom’s full-bodied punch tickling his forehead.

BAM!

The room shook with the sound as he rolled away from Phantom. His whole body was trembling imperceptibly, a buzz under his skin, as he pushed himself up to his feet.

This isn’t normal, he’d kept telling himself. Standing this close to Phantom, still in Bruce’s body, he was finally inclined to believe it. He stared at the pillar, horrified.

A cloud of dust surrounded Bruce-Phantom. His arm hung heavily at his side, a fist coated in stone particles, and the cuts on his knuckles were healing already. There was a crater in the pillar now, about the size of his head. Tim met his eyes, glinting greed with satisfaction and the edge of his smile cutting into his cheeks.

Tim swallowed against the foreign ice-cold fear threatening to shut him down. He glanced at the guests that were still hanging up in the chandelier. There were still civilians around, but he couldn’t just let himself get killed.

“Mm, I can tell you an I are going to have fun,” he said, voice low and smug.

Reluctantly, he turned back to meet Bruce-Phantom’s eyes, ignoring how the familiarity of fighting someone he’s looked up to his whole life made his skin crawl.

Stalling it was, then.

“I gotta be honest,” he started, slowly moving back. “I’m not a fan of your idea of fun.”

Bruce-Phantom shrugged nonchalantly, waving a dismissive hand.

“Everyone’s a critic. But I just like doing whatever feels like me, you know?”

Tom opened his mouth to respond when Bruce-Phantom disappeared into thin air. He whipped his head around trying to search for any sign of him. There was a sudden cold spot behind him. Before he could even turn around, there was a voice by his ear.

“Boo.”

Something hard slammed into his back. Tim screamed in pain as the hit sent him flying onto one of the finger foods table. He fell hard, the ceramic plates shattering against his side before tumbling off the side and onto the floor. He groaned into the cold marble. He had a bruised kidney, for sure. Maybe ceramic shard in his arm and chest, but he couldn’t feel anything apart from the numbing pain in his lower back.

He bit back a curse. It’s no biggie, I’m fine. I’m just up against my lifelong mentor who’s being possessed by some kind of super ghost who knows all about us. In my civvies. It’s fine.

Footsteps approached the mess of broken plates and scattered food Tim was lying in.

Bruce-Phantom snickered.

“C’mon birdie boy, that all you got? It wasn’t nearly this easy to beat you the first time around. Then again, you had more years on you.”

“You hit pretty hard for a dead bitch,” Tim groaned out, decidedly ignoring Phantom’s words. He tucked the information away in a little archive in his mind instead. Later.

Bruce-Phantom barked a laugh, tilting his head back with the sound. The table creaked as he gripped the edge.

“We’re only just getting started,” he growled out. In one fluid motion he flipped the table and swung it across the room, where it crashed into the abandoned cello in a dissonant cacophony of strings.

Tim stared, wide-eyed and horrified, at the broken table, then back at Bruce-Phantom. Slowly, he lifted his hands in front of himself.

“Please,” he let out, measuring his words. Bruce-Phantom raised an eyebrow. “I don’t who or what you are, but please leave these people and my father out of it. They’re innocent. I’m sure we can talk about this like reasonable people.”

Bruce-Phantom went as if to roll his eyes, one hand on his hip, when he caught Tim’s glance to the chandelier. He followed the line of sight to the guests who were surprisingly still hanging on. As soon as he turned his back, Tim slipped his hand into one of the inside pockets of his suit jacket. Cold metal bit into the palm of his hand.

He swiftly slid it into his sleeve before Bruce-Phantom turned back to him. That grin of his cut into his cheeks once more like it was its own curated weapon. Or maybe it was just the teeth. Tim suppressed a shiver.

“Alright, birdie #3, I’ll play your game.”

Birdie #3… how much did he know?

Bruce-Phantom faced the horde of possessed ghosts and shouted something Tim can only describe as a jumbling mumble of consonants and slicing hisses. It grated painfully against his ears, scratching so much it nearly turned to static. Just as he was about to squint and jam his fingers into his ears, it stopped. Three separated from the horde, floating up to the chandelier where the guests were starting to scream at them.

Tim sat up in his knees, hands still in surrender.

“What are you doing? Leave them alone, they’re innocent!”

Although his surrender wasn’t close to genuine, his panic was true. Everything about this ‘Phantom’ was unpredictable. First he steals classified tech, then he works with the JL to help catch himself, and now he was here, creating a level of chaos at a Wayne Gala that’s usually reserved for Batman’s biggest rogues.

This entire break-in felt personal, more like a revenge plot than anything else. But Tim had no way of confirming that. Neither Bruce nor Batman had done anything to antagonize the ghost. He had no way, yet, to tell what Phantom would do next.

He could’ve commanded the possessed to kill those people first all Tim knew.

Bruce-Phantom glanced at him, eyes gleaming.

“You wanted a private conversation, didn’t you?”

He didn’t say another word, and neither did Tim. He watched, apprehension mounting within him, as the possessed brought the guests down from the chandelier and set them down in the middle of the room.

Throughout the whole painstaking process, Tim couldn’t stop thinking about his family and what the fuck was taking them so long in getting here.

He made eye contact with the terrified woman who, unlike her companions, hesitated once she was set down.

“Go,” Tim said firmly, pointing his chin at the door. She ran without another glance. The door slammed shut behind her, the sound echoing ominously throughout the room. Thirty possessed stood along the far wall like sentinels.

He was never leaving his room without comms again.

“Ready for the last fight of your life, birdie?”

“That’s just another Tuesday for me.”

Tim swung out his arm, his bo staff opening with a smooth click. He lunged and aimed for the throat.

————

Meanwhile en route to Wayne Manor…

————

Dick grunted in pain as his back slammed into tue side of the building, chest and suit burning from the blast he took. That was the third- THIRD -time he got sent flying into the same building. By a robot, no less! Seriously, what was a robot doing in Gotham of all places? Usually these were the kinds of villains Superman got.

“Nightwing, you okay?”

Spoiler perched herself on the corner of the roof he was on. He sent her a thumbs up.

“Never better,” he rasped before falling into a coughing fit.

“Yeah, you sound like a million bucks. Listen, Black Bat and Robin are distracting Robo-guy. Oracle’s trying to shut him down, but for some reason she can’t do it wirelessly. Catch.”

He spotted a flash of movement and reacted instinctively. In his hand was something the size of an old ipod, except square and solid black. It hummed quietly, the vibration almost imperceptible.

“A gift? You shouldn’t have! Really.”

Spoiler rolled her eyes.

“Consider it an early—”

Bang!

They both turned around to the loud noise in time to see a car fly across 33rd street and crush a lamppost.

“Time’s up,” she said, getting her grappling hook out. “O will fill you in on the rest. Happy Birthday!”

Dick hopped back on his feet and walked to the same corner Spoiler jumped off. Below him was a semi-impressive sight that he didn’t think he’d ever see in Gotham. A twenty-foot tall Robot made out of a weird combination of spare parts and high tech blasted its way through the street.

Where its face would’ve been was instead a screen portraying an impossibly sickly green face with crooked teeth and, for some ungodly reason, sunglasses. Tonight could not be any weirder.

Dick tapped his comm.

“Hey, O, how’s it hanging?”

“Could be better,” she replied, her voice taught. There was an intense sound of clacking in the background.

“Any updates on the manor?”

Dick’s mind raced with thoughts as he observed the fight below, turning the square ipod thing in his hand over.

“Not yet. Cameras aren’t working, but Tim’s logged into the security. I’m 98% sure he’s the one who set the sprinklers off. Cops are on their way, but traffic from our robot friend is setting them back. Did Spoiler give you—”

“My birthday gift? Sure did,” he said easily, holding it up in front of him. “Though I gotta say, and ipod was not on my list this year.”

Oracle snorted at the comment.

“An ipod? God you’re old.”

“Hey! They’re not even that old! And they’re still a thing.”

The sound of furious keyboard clacking intensified in his ear.

“Mhm, sure. Don’t worry, though, I got you something better. This one is for our robot friend. The others will keep it distracted while you stick that near its processing unit which, if the infrared in your guys’ video is correct, should be behind its neck.”

Dick stretched his arms overhead and hid the ipod in one of the pockets lining his arm sleeve.

“Easy peasy. Any hints for that something better?”

“In your dreams, bird brain. I’ll keep you updated if I find anything else. Good luck.”

The comm went silent. Dick focused on the task at hand. He tried not to think about how Tim was faring in the manor, on his own. About how he was stuck with a powerful ghost who was currently possessing not only their father, but someone who was probably even more dangerous than said ghost.

They had no way of knowing what was going on in there, or of what Phantom’s plan was. His endgame. They had to get to Tim, but whenever any of them tried to break away, the Robot would blast them in the opposite direction.

He rolled his shoulders. They would get to the manor on time. But first, it was about time they put this thing out of commission. He took a running start before front flipping off the building and straight onto the robot’s back.

————

Also en route…

————

Zatanna was flying as fast as she could through the smog-ridden skies of Gotham city when she heard the voice that too easily haunted her dreams since she first heart it almost three days ago.

“I am Technus! Master of all things mechanical!”

“You have got to be kidding me.”

She didn’t think she’d ever hear that voice again— she’d been dreading the idea of it, honestly. The tech being was by far the most annoying and tedious villain she’s ever had the displeasure of fighting. Now it was here. In Gotham of all places.

She followed the source of that stupid voice to find an honest-to-god robot traipsing down a wrecked street. There was an insane amount of traffic in every direction, and four totaled cars. Possible casualties then.

Taking a closer look she spotted four figures zipping back and forth and onto the robot trying to take it down. They must’ve been on their way to the manor like her. Instantly, she understood what was going on. Technus was a distraction, tasked to keep them away from Phantom.

Zatanna frowned. Something wasn’t quite adding up. During her last encounter with Technus, his whole speech implied that Danny- Phantom -was the one who always ‘ruined his plots for technological world domination.’

If that was true, it didn’t make sense that he was protecting Phantom now. It’s possible Phantom struck a deal either way Technus in exchange for his help, but… Zatanna wasn’t too sure that was the case.

Watching as Black Bat took a green blast from Technus, Zatanna put the thoughts aside for later. She swooped down and grabbed Black Bat, moving her out of the way of another blast. She set them both down behind a mail box. The sharp, static noise of Technus’ laugh boomed loudly along with each destructive step he took.

He had loose strings tangled around each foot, and as soon as she wondered why she saw Robin shoot his grappling hook at the Robot’s left foot and tie it around a lamppost. From a low roof, Spoiler shot her own grappling hook at his right foot, tying it at a nearby fire escape.

This slowed him down for maybe thirty seconds, enough for Nightwing to start poking his electrified escrima sticks into every exposed wire-covered joint the robot had. At this, the robot’s face glitched in and out of the screen, but after a few seconds of this Technus only laughed louder. He blasted at the rope around his feet, making Robin and Spoiler fall back.

Zatanna felt a grip on her arm. She turned to Black Bat. Her mask was as cold and impassive as ever, but she was breathing hard and her suit was steaming. Eyes roaming down, Zatanna found the source. There was a circle of burning skin and melted kevlar on Black Bat’s side, near her ribs.

“Stay still,” Zatanna commanded. A spell was falling off her tongue in seconds.

Black Bat was shaking her head.

“Tim,” she rasped.

“I’ll make sure you guys get to him, but I need to heal you first.”

A soft yellow glow emanated from her palm. The light trickled down onto the burn, separating the fabric from the skin before mending the burn.

Black Bat shook her head again, fingertips digging into Zatanna’s forearm. She suppressed a wince. Black Bat must be in serious pain if she was being this expressive. Which was concerning. Technus’ blasts didn’t do much except pack a serious punch. They especially didn’t burn like this.

“Plan.”

“What?”

Black Bat took in a shaky breath as yellow light spilled further onto her burn.

“Oracle had a plan. It didn’t work. We… it’s different,” she said, struggling to find the right words.

Zatanna glanced back at the robot. She hadn’t fought Technus like this, but she wasn’t surprised that Oracle couldn’t shut the robot down. It wasn’t normal technology after all. Everything he used became him, as much as she was able to tell.

“I’m different, too. Did Oracle find a way into his systems?”

Black Bat nodded.

“Tell her to unload as many viruses as she can into them. The more annoying the better. While she’s doing that, tell Spoiler and Robin to pull their trick again, but make sure Nightwing backs off. What I’m going to do should be enough of a distraction to give you and him a chance to get away and go straight to the manor. I’ll be right behind you, got it?”

But Black Bat was already relaying the information through their comms. Zatanna’s spell wasn’t enough to get rid of the burn entirely, but it did ease down the pain and get rid of the melted fabric. It was all the bat needed to get back on her feet and to the nearest roof. Zatanna stayed where she was as it gave her enough cover from Technus’s shots, and was now firmly in his blindside.

From there on, things went as smoothly as they could. Technus made it obvious the moment Oracle started her ambush. Cat memes, shitty ads, and continuously opening windows overlapped over his face on screen as he started shouting ‘what is this’ and ‘no virus can hold down Technus, master of all things mechanical.’ His last straw, apparently, was when a twenty hour looped video of Rick Astley’s Never Gonna Give You Up popped up over a Destiel meme.

“NOOOO!”

“Now!”

From adjacent roofs, Spoiler and Robin shot their grappling hooks. Each one did a loop around the robot’s hip. As soon as their hooks stuck, they jumped off the roof and swung in circles around Technus’s legs, tangling them up worse and worse until he couldn’t move five feet without tripping.

“Foolish children! Mere rope and outdated memes cannot destroy Technus!”

“How about a magic touch?”

“You again!”

Zatanna shared that exact sentiment, but she was more than happy to decommission him a second time. Her magic rippled into every inch of her, sparking at her fingertips as she floated above the robot. His screen was still playing Rick Astley.

Pouring power into her words, she shouted the same spell she used against him the first time. It rendered technology useless, and with the overwhelming amount of viruses distracting him, Technus couldn’t spare a thought to defend against it.

Unlike their first fight, though, she followed this spell with a purifying one she had picked up from Constantine. This did the trick. The robot went slack in its spot, all its power sapped away. A green glow traveled through its body, accompanied by Technus’s anguished scream, until it got ejected through the robot’s head.

The green shape floated mid air for a second before it shot off into the sky, the scream quickly fading away.

That, she thought, worked a lot better than I expected it to.

She looked around her and not a single bat was to be found waiting among the wreckage. Good. They should be halfway to the manor now.

Zatanna followed after them, leaving the clean-up to the GPD.

sometimes you just gotta draw the king

DP X DC ghost king danny

What if Danny’s King Regalia always shows up in the dark? Danny can keep it invisible/unequip it, but it’s permanent in dark settings. Yet, it always shows back up in dark rooms etc.

except he has a really hard time figuring out if it is dark out or not because his vision is tinted green 100% of the time, and he has night vision anyway, so whenever the lights flickered in a room, and his crown was visible for a few seconds, and whatever hero he is with thinks they were seeing things, he just never notices

so danny’s a daylight hero, and avoids dark rooms with the JL because he thinks being a king isn’t a big deal. There are demigods and champions of magic, so what difference is a king? Or maybe he assumes they already knew or smthn, and he didn’t like the weird looks people used to give him when he left the crown visible, and the JL never seemed to care that he was (technically) ruler of infinite realms, only that he could save people, and stop world-ending threats

and, of course, they don’t actually know; cue misunderstandings.

art taglist: @i-amtransexual @badatgmrt

[narwhalandchill]

Tag game: Current

got tagged by @begaydoalchemy !! thank u !!

- Current time: 9:45 (AM for you US peeps smh)

- Current activity: finished up prefarming blades traces to 6/8/8/8. double calyx drops events is a godsend. was listening to a video essay on the bg but the favorite song section made me go listen to stiny on repeat again bc i love inflicting emotional damage on myself so i guess thats what.

- Currently thinking about: so theres this person in the hsr leaks subreddit megathread doing daily renheng insanity ponderings since blades trailer dropped and ive been just losing my mind ever since reading them. anyway i wanted everyone here to get to see them too but didnt wanna repost em bc its just kinda ehhhh to do so. here u go!! suffer with me!!! click the links theres all 3!!! (spoilery warning tho. idr how many leaks refs there are in there exactly but expect some at least)

- Current favorite song: spotify most listened to top5 currently looking like NEON by raon, kissaki by reol, wildfire, cha cha cha (we will never forgive xx swedes watch out) and stiny from KALUSH & jerry heil.

but like let me be clear the only reason reol isnt number 1 is bc the full version of the song only came out like 2 weeks ago and the earlier released shorter anime ver of kissaki is literally 7th on the list.

- Currently reading: ...i mean mostly just renheng fanfic but uhhh. i did read where the crawdads sing from delia owens (just plucked it out from the bookshelf randomly bc i was bored) a month or so back. it was neat but no like particular strong feelings abt it. it was very well written and i liked the flow of the prose a lot. also waiting for crooked kingdom to get a finnish translation bc i got six of crows in finnish and i dont do book series as mixed language sets generally. (also the translation work itself was just like an absolute fucking banger with the imagery and metaphors used like chef kiss)

- Currently watching: no particular show (last thing was when i rewatched fmab a couple months ago) going on but like. random video essays or informative stuff on yt honestly and its mostly for bg noise.

- Current favorite character: gee i wonder. dan heng (past editions included), blade, (big gap here bc i tunnel vision on characters), bailu, luocha, jing yuan i think for specific ones from hsr for now. am looking out for jingliu and fu xuan too i need to study them. in genshin its like. yeah its mr childe ajax tartaglia all the way but i kinda just havent been feeling it for the game much so eh. tighnari, kazuha up there too n arlecchino obvi.

- Current WIPS: what kind of productive person do you take me for??? ig i like. opened word this week to type out some random passage drafts for a ficlet type thing relating to the post i made a while back abt belobogs temperatures wrt dan hengs potential terrible, horrible, no good, very bad scalie time with it but do Not expect any results from that or anything i s2g. ive finished one fic in my life and that was half poetry half madness full one sitting and be done with it type deal

im sorry i have no idea who to tag so like. anyone who wants to do it feel free, mutuals or followers!!! :]