#in all honesty I’m making a fic where it’s less evil and most of the Jedi survive where Obi does this

[padawansuggest]

Rex: *after showing up to Tatooine and listening to Din and Boba’s exploits to clean up the planet again* Wow. A… kryat…

Boba: *suddenly on edge, putting a protective hand on Din’s thigh where Din was taking up Fennec’s usual spot on the arm of the throne* What’s wrong with taking down a kryat? Thing of legends, really.

Rex: *sadly shaking his head* Sorry, that wasn’t anything against it itself. They go wild and eat whole towns when left alone, it’s just pest control.

Boba: But it upsets you?

Rex: …I think I know the Krayt you’re talking about. It was necessary, it just explains why Cody was pissed about Kenobi crying around the same time that happened.

Din: Kenobi and Cody… are some of the ghosts that come to meditate with Grogu a couple times a week?

Rex: Yeah. Kenobi wasn’t really so upset, but I think he still had a lingering bond with the beast. They’d worked together for the rebellion for years.

Boba: …excuse you, did you just imply the rebellion had a kryat dragon working for them?

Rex: No no, Obi-Wan worked for the rebellion. He was asked to kill the dragon a bit after he settled on the planet, ended up making a force bond with her. She let him harvest the pearls in her nest and he kept her well fed without needing to hunt. I guess he didn’t realize after he died she’d have to hunt on her own.

Din: …why did the rebellion need kryat pearls? I know they had enough money for the most part.

Rex: …they weren’t to sell. Obi-Wan used a seer’s chamber to figure out where Jedi in need of a pearl were in the galaxy, sent them on with the materials to build their own saber.

Boba: You can use a dragon Pearl in a saber?!?

Rex: Yeah. With the Death Star in construction it was almost impossible to get kyber. Kryat pearls made a good replacement, and Obi-Wan had a tamed dragon. I know he sent one to the princess, and it’s in her saber now, Vos was his usual contact because he worked with the underground that connected children to capable fighters that could train them. They’d get their saber materials and train with their new master.

Din: Are you. Fucking. Telling me. I didn’t have to look for a Jedi. I just needed to find the underground so I could give Grogu a master there?

Rex: Absolutely not! That little boy loves you more than anything, Djarin! The underground is for training those who have no other choice than to run from the empire to survive it. Your child chose you over training.

Din: Fuck this, I’m getting Kenobi to tell me where to find another pearl, I’m getting my kid a shiny hittin stick. *stomps off to the nursery to try and contact the dead*

Rex: …hmm… he’s fun. Careful, Kenobi will try to adopt him.

Boba: *grumbling about a man with a Mandalorian fetish never leaving them be*

[reidrum]

carry the weight of you | s.r

A/N: i had this posted on an old blog but here's this, idk if i like it but it's also one of my first fics so if lemme know if you have thoughts <3

cw: fluff, angst, hurt/comfort, reader is sad, depression ?, spencer is a cutie who just wants to love, can be read as gn!reader

wc: 1.8k

_______________________________________________

it was supposed to be a routine case. well, not a routine case. those don’t really exist in the bau, but one that had a clear MO and decent enough leads that garcia could easily use to find the unsub. it wasn’t even a case that was especially creepy in nature, lord knows those give the whole bureau nightmares for days.

so why did you feel this way?

you were relatively new to the team—having one year under your belt to your near decades experienced colleagues. but you had rightfully earned your spot in the bau, and you deserved to be there.

but right now you had no energy to believe that. the ache in your chest was ever present from your younger days, courtesy of the circumstances from your upbringing, and you should’ve expected that joining the fbi would’ve only made it heavier. you bared it nonetheless because that’s what you were taught to do. you felt beaten down by the last few days, and just couldn’t wait to get back home and crawl into your bed.

the team had wrapped up the case, and you all were on the jet flying back home to the district. sat next to the ever observant dr. reid, he noticed your glazed eyes and distant aura exuding from you.

“you okay?” he bumps your shoulder bringing you out of your trance.

“i’m fine, don’t worry about me.” you replied curtly and tried to fold into the crevice between the seat and the walls of the plane.

“bold of you to lie to a profiler while on a plane full of profiles,” he chuckled lightly, “seriously, you look troubled. are you sure you don’t wanna play honesty hour right now?”

“spence, i’m okay, I promise.” you tried your best at a genuine smile that was as see through as a windexed window. he returned it with his own thin lipped smile and left you be. 

were you okay? you don’t even know how long you’ve felt like this. small, insignificant, nothing. you do great work at your job, tarnishing evil and saving lives. but you can’t help but find it ironic that it’s your own mind working against you that seems to be your demise. 

the jet landed around midnight and the team shuffled through the bullpen to gather their belongings before going home. everyone offered their goodbyes and goodnights and spencer was waiting for you by the door. you both lived in the same apartment building, only because when you first moved to quantico you had no one and knew no one. spencer took it upon himself to help you out, being the newest young rookie on the team, a position he was all too familiar with. his next door neighbor had moved out for an immediate job offer and was looking for a subletter and lo and behold, spencer had become your best friend.

in the few months that you were getting accustomed to the area spencer invited you over for nightly chess games and doctor who marathons. morgan always teased the two of you saying you should be going out on the town having fun only young people can have, and spencer would blush and stammer something out but you would have the brightest smile and look at him saying they were the most fun you’ve had.

so he was surprised to say the least when those nights started to become far and few. you would politely decline and spencer would assume you’d finally listened to morgan and got better plans. but he could hear the patter of your footsteps and the occasional expletive from when you’d hit a table corner and wondered what he did to make you recluse yourself again.

spencer was a profiler after all, mix that with being your closest friend and he could pinpoint the moments you started to change. you’d started making less jokes, even during moments where the team would pause and wait for a little quip from you but hear nothing. you were harder to gain attention from, usually needing three or four calls to get you to even look up. and he just saw you distancing yourself, almost like you didn’t want anyone to perceive you.

spencer loved you. he wouldn’t say it out loud or admit to anyone but point blank he loved you. he felt understood in a way that no one else made him feel. you were kind, smart, funny, and the empathy you held for others was enough to make him tear up. you were there for him when maeve died, letting him cry on your shoulder, and as fucked up as it sounds he realized he loved you in those moments leaking tears onto the stomach of your sweater.

so here stood spencer in front of your desk, “you heading home?” you nodded, “mind if i ride with you? i don’t feel like taking the metro this late.”

“okay, let’s go.”

the walk to your car was silent, and somehow the ride back to your apartment complex was even more silent. walking up the stairs to your apartment doors, you turn the key and step in when spencer goes, “hey actually i think i left my book at your place do you mind if i just look for it really quick?”

you stared at him blankly. you just wanted to be alone and he wants to get his book now? unbeknownst to you spencer was desperate to get to the bottom of your melancholia, and needed any in he could find right now to get there.

nonetheless you nodded your head and left the door open behind you so he could walk in. you dropped your bags and shoes at the front door and trudged through your apartment to your kitchen to put tea on the kettle. you softly called out to him, “do you want a cup of tea?”

“i’d love a cup.” he says sitting on your couch.

you’re fussing around the kitchen getting two mugs out— one doctor who and one snoopy mug. you fill the doctor who one up and add a lemon slice and turn around grabbing your snoopy mug. when you turn back towards the kettle you hit the corner of the island table and watch as your favorite mug drops and shatters into millions of pieces.

when they say a straw is what breaks the camel’s back you fully understand what they mean now because how are you about to lose all your shit over a snoopy mug. you don’t even make an effort to move, just staring at the broken pieces on the floor, trying to make sense of them like a kid pointing out cloud shapes. it’s like you can see the pieces molding into the demons that keep you up at night, the thoughts of uselessness and lethargy personifying in front of you.

spencer has to call your name three times before you finally move your eyes to meet his. you can see his lips moving but you can’t hear him, his hands are out as if he’s telling you to stay put oh wait he is. you wait as he finds your dustpan and broom and brushes up the remains into the trashcan. he slowly approaches you and maneuvers you towards the living room where you sit still glossy eyed and trembling.

he sits down next to you and places a hand on your bouncing knee to soothe it, “why won’t you talk to me?”

you shake your head, “it’s nothing spence, it’s not a big deal i can buy a new mug.” push it down.

“not that, something’s not right. and i want to help. will you let me help you?”

you feel the tears making their way up your face to make their grand exit, and you hold on to last bit of resolve you can as you shakily breathe, “i-, i can’t, it’s stupid and we see so much worse stuff so i have to keep it together and i am but today was just-“ you abruptly got up to get water from the kitchen before finishing your sentence. grabbing a glass from the cupboard, filling it up at the sink, and gulping it down with shaky hands. you set the glass down and placed your hands on the cool counter in an attempt to tether yourself to some string of reality that was left. you couldn’t burden him. you wouldn’t.

spencer gives you a minute alone before rising from the couch and walking into the kitchen. he approaches you slowly from behind, mirroring his hands on top of yours, entrapping you in his warm embrace. “i think you’re carrying so much,” he whispers gently in your ear, “you don’t have to do it by yourself. it’s okay to not be okay.”

the tears win and start streaming down your face silently. spencer continues, “what we do, it’s hard. we all have ways of not letting it get to us. rossi and his cigars, hotch and jack, garcia and her tchotchkes, i mean even emily with her sin city weekends.” you let out a wet laugh in response.

spencer doubles down and intertwines his fingers with yours, “my point is, you are not alone. i am here. let me carry some of it for you, please.”

letting out a soft sob you twist in his arms and burrow yourself into his sweatered chest. this was a new feeling for you, letting someone in to see the horrors that you worked so hard to suppress. why would anyone want to brave that journey? surely you weren’t worth the effort.

but as spencer tightened his arms around you, rubbing his hands soothingly down your back and placing a kiss at the crown of your head, you felt that even if the walls of your resolve came crumbling down that spencer would be there to catch as much as he could. and that was enough.

“thank you,” you mumbled tearily incoherent.

“i will always be here for you, no need to thank me sweetheart.”

his kindness overwhelmed you. how could someone who sees so much darkness and been through so much still hold the level of kindness he does?

you lifted your head slightly as his hand came up to cradle the back of your head, “so, what do you have?”

he hummed quizzically in response. you continued, “you said everyone has ways of getting through it, what’s yours?”

“it’s you,” spencer softly says with the most tender loving look in his eyes, smoothing your hair back as he looks down at you in his arms, “it’s always been you.”

your eyes welled up even more and squeezed him tighter if it were even possible. spencer had you. and now you had spencer.

the next day you show up to work, a snoopy mug with a gift bow sits on your desk. 

[lovelybucky1]

please please can we get some Wanda x Agatha content? I know that you said that you were taking blurb requests so pretty please!!

Retribution

DARK FIC, READ WARNINGS

warnings: slight dubcon, dom!wanda, sub!agatha, use of magic, bondage magic, angry sex, face slapping, hair pulling, spit kink, manipulation, mentions of (non sexual) violence,

“You ruined everything!” Wanda yells, sending furniture sliding across the floor and slamming into the opposite wall.

“Calm down, Wanda, it’s just me,” Agatha says in a sickly sweet voice that fills Wanda with boiling rage.

“Everything I built, you ruined! I had a life, a family, and you took it all away!”

Wanda crosses the room in long steps and as she gets closer, Agatha takes a step back. She hits the wall behind her and she puts her hand out to stop Wanda, but she bats it away.

“You’re going to pay for this,” she hisses.

“You know,” Agatha clears her throat, “your accent gets thicker when you’re mad.”

Agatha immediately regretted the teasing remark when Wanda brought her hand up and slapped her across the face. She chokes on a surprised gasp and works her jaw to alleviate the sting.

“You’re quite the little firecracker, aren’t you, red?” she laughs humorlessly.

Wanda, having enough of Agatha’s jibes, covers her mouth with her hand and gives her a threatening glare.

“Speak again and it’ll be the last time.”

Agatha didn’t believe she would go through with the threat, but she doesn’t push any further and only nods.

Wanda releases the other woman’s mouth, then grabs both of her wrists and holds them over her head. Agatha feels a warm tingle, and when she looks up, she sees glowing red chains wrapped around her wrists.

“Come,” Wanda orders bluntly as she walks to the center of the room. Agatha only hesitates for a moment, but it is apparently too long for Wanda. She uses her magic to pull her forward and stops her only inches in front of her face.

Wanda attaches the bonds to the ceiling and starts to pace around Agatha’s suspended body. She admires her former neighbor’s figure; she may hate the woman but she isn’t blind. Wanda reaches out to place a hand on the center of her back, and Agatha jumps, making the chains jingle.

“What are you so afraid of?” Wanda asks, walking back in front of her. Agatha looks down at her with a pleading expression, and Wanda almost feels bad for her. Almost.

“Please let me go,” Agatha begs.

“What did I say about talking?”

Agatha squeezes her eyes shut and forces tears to spring to her eyes. Wanda is mad now, but she’s not an evil person. Her compassion is her weakness, and Agatha knows how to play into it perfectly.

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I just... I didn’t want to do this. He made me,” she says, throwing in a few voice cracks for good measure.

“Who made you?”

Agatha opens her glassy eyes and gently shakes her head, like it would hurt her too much to tell Wanda the truth.

“Who made you?” Wanda asks again, firmer this time.

“Tony Stark,” Agatha breathes out.

Wanda’s stomach drops at the name. In the world she created, Tony Stark didn’t exist. Steve Rogers was a household name, the heroic Captain America who saves the day and is the image of goodness. Clint Barton and Natasha Romanoff, or Uncle Clint and Aunt Nat as her kids called them, lived far away on a nice, quaint little farm with Clint’s wife and his family. All of the Avengers existed in her world somehow, except Tony Stark.

“He blamed you for breaking up the team,” Agatha explains. “It was his last wish to make sure you end up in prison, away from your family just like you took away his.”

The anger fades from Wanda’s face, but nothing replaces it. She stares blankly at the floor as she processes what she’s heard. Tony Stark, the man who’s weapons killed her parents, the man who destroyed her home, and the man who tore apart her found family, blamed her?

“I’m so sorry, Wanda. I didn’t have another choice... he had a team of people come after my family.”

Wanda’s mind raced, thinking of reasons as to why Tony would do this. It wasn’t her fault, she didn’t deserve any of this. Maybe she just didn’t want to believe, but she was convinced this was wrong.

“You’re lying,” Wanda says, finally looking up from the floor.

“I wish I was, I really do,” Agatha sobs.

“He wouldn’t have done this.”

“I’m so sorry, Wanda.”

“Stop lying to me!” Wanda screams, the sound echoing throughout the room, making the furniture rattle. “You’ve done nothing but lie!”

Wanda’s hands ball into tight fists at her side and red energy swirls around her. Her eyes begin to glow and for the first time, Agatha feels genuine fear at what Wanda may do. Wanda grabs Agatha’s thigh and sends a hot wave of energy through her body.

It burns her everywhere, making her feel like she’s boiling from the inside. She opens her mouth to scream, but no sound comes out; only a red light emanating from her throat.

Agatha thrashes about against the chains, but it’s no use. She can’t escape the pain and Wanda is too furious to show her mercy now.

When Wanda finally lets go, the burning sensation stops and Agatha goes limp, hanging from her wrists as she tries to catch her breath.

“You’re a witch,” Wanda says, making Agatha look at her again. “Tony Stark didn’t send you, you came after my power.”

“Don’t be-”

“Don’t try to lie again, I know the truth. I looked inside your head, I saw the destruction you wish to bring.”

Wanda steps forward and places her hand on Agatha’s thigh again and she flinches, expecting it to burn. When it doesn’t she opens her eyes to find Wanda smirking.

“I’ll make you a deal. You can tell me what I want to know, or I’ll find out myself. One of those will be far less comfortable for you than the other.”

Wanda’s voice is low, almost seductive in a way. Agatha shakes slightly as Wanda looks at her intensely, her gaze unwavering even slightly.

“I’ll tell you,” Agatha says weakly, making Wanda smile.

“Wonderful,” Wanda chirps.

Just as Agatha was about to speak, Wanda trials her hand up her stomach, stopping just between her breasts. Agatha chokes, surprised at the other woman’s actions.

“Don’t mind me,” Wanda says nonchalantly as she lifts the hem of Agatha’s shirt and pushes her hand up, feeling her soft stomach.

Wanda grabs ahold of Agatha’s bra and rips it clean off like it was nothing. She gasps when Wanda pinches at her nipple with cold fingers, instinctively pushing her chest out for more. Wanda raises an eyebrow, but doesn’t comment. Instead, she pulls her hand out of Agatha’s shirt and snaps her fingers, and in a flash, all of her clothes disappear.

She yelps when the cool air of the room hits her body all at once, and she squirms to try to cover herself, but there is so use. Wanda grabs Agatha by the hair to keep her in place, shooting her a glare that says stay still.

“Start talking before I do something you won’t enjoy,” Wanda threatens.

“What do you want to know?” Agatha breathes out.

“Tell me everything. Who you are, what you want from me.”

Agatha nods quickly and begins to explain. She tells Wanda she is a witch and has been for four-hundred years. She tells of how she’s been searching for a more powerful being to teach her, to make her stronger, and that Wanda is the most powerful beacon of energy in the entire multiverse.

Wanda listens intently and begins to notice the story does not entirely add up. She decides to give Agatha a little more encouragement to keep telling the truth.

She kneads Agatha’s breast roughly in on hand, and with the other, she slides it between her legs to cup her pussy. Agatha squeezes her legs shut in surprise, which only adds to the minimal friction Wanda is providing. She moans quietly, an involuntary little noise that escapes her throat and makes her chest flush in embarrassment.

“Do you like that?” Wanda asks rhetorically as she slips her fingers between Agatha’s lips to press directly against her clit.

Agatha struggles with her answer. It feels good and she desperately wants more, but she’s also being held captive and interrogated. Squeezing her eyes shut, she nods quickly. Wanda smirks and rubs her fingers over Agatha’s clit. She laughs to herself when Agatha starts to roll her hips, matching her pace.

“If you wanted to learn, why did you come here to destroy me?” Wanda asks as she dips her fingertip inside of the other woman.

“I wanted it for myself,” Agatha confesses, “I knew I couldn’t make this myself, but I could get rid of you and take it for myself.”

Wanda is surprised at the other witch’s honesty. She already knew her intentions, but she wasn’t expecting Agatha to confess so bluntly.

“Was that so hard?” Wanda coos as she curls her fingers inside Agatha, rubbing her wall.

“No, no it wasn’t, I’m so sorry,” she babbles.

Wanda reaches up to brush a lock of hair out of Agatha’s face, a gentle contrast to the rest of this encounter.

“You’re a good girl, aren’t you, Agatha?”

“Yes,” she whines.

“You’d make such a good pet, darling. So obedient and pretty.”

Wanda’s fingers fuck into Agatha’s pussy faster, hitting her sweet spot with each stroke. Agatha’s face is twisted is pleasure and her chest heaves with exertion.

“I think I’ll keep you,” Wanda says darkly. “It will be your punishment for trying to take this from me.”

Agatha can’t hear Wanda anymore, too focused on her own pleasure to notice. She throws her head back and opens her mouth in a silent scream as her orgasm washes over her. It feels like it lasts forever; heat bubbles inside of her and her body jerks with each new wave. Her eyes roll back in her head and she sees a faint image of Wanda standing over her with glowing red eyes, but for some reason, she doesn’t feel afraid.

“This is where you belong,” Wanda says in a booming voice that echoes throughout the vast space in Agatha’s mind. “Helpless and bound at my mercy.”

Agatha doesn’t argue, doesn’t try to fight. She just nods, accepting her role as Wanda’s toy. Maybe one day she’ll be able to overthrow her, but for now, she is too weak to even dream of it.

[iamtrebleclefstories]

all through the night - chapter three

An unexpected visitor

-or-

A fic where Jo has a miscarriage pre-16x16 and Alex comes back to pick up the pieces

Was this supposed to be only two chapter? Yes... we’re not going to talk about that though... 

TW: Miscarriage

The next few days consisted of more of the same. Jo and Alex walked on eggshells around each other, neither of them wanting to break the silence looming heavily in the loft, which was only interrupted by the occasional sound from the television or the clanging of a dish in the kitchen. Maybe that's why it was so shocking when they heard a knock at the door.

"Hey evil spawn, hairball, open up!'"

Alex walked up to the door and pulled it open. He scrunched his face in confusion, "Yang? What are you doing here? How do you know where I live?"

"I get mail you moron. I’ve seen the return address,” Cristina invited herself into the loft. She scanned the place the Karevs called home and her eyes landed on Jo’s blank face. “Altman and Pierce called me a couple days ago to help them out with an experimental surgery that's only ever been done a handful of times around the world, my hospital and my hands being one of them. I'm performing and teaching the residents all about the procedure. Surgery is tomorrow. I was at Mer's house visiting with the kids and I heard that you might be here," Sensing the tension in the room, Cristina turned her attention to Alex. "How about you and I go outside and talk for a bit?"

Alex looked at Cristina and quickly realized that she wouldn't give him the option of saying no. He glanced back at Jo before looking back at Cristina, "Okay, I'll go."

The moment they walked outside, Cristina slapped Alex upside the head.

"Ow! What was that for?" Alex rubbed his head.

"That's for being a dumbass," they walked for a few more minutes before Cristina spoke up again. "Are you an idiot? Are you mentally challenged?"

"Mer told you, didn't she?" Alex grumbled.

"She didn't have to," Cristina shook her head in disbelief. "You fell off the face of the earth for weeks. I know we don't talk that much, but it doesn't take a rocket scientist to figure it out. She had a miscarriage and instead of you comforting her like you're supposed to, you looked terrified that something will set her off. Do you know how crappy it feels to miscarry? I wasn't planning on even continuing my pregnancy and I was still a wreck when Addison had to go in and remove my fallopian tube. And on top of that, you cheated on her?"

"I didn't know she was pregnant when I slept with Izzie," Alex tried defending himself. "Jo didn't even know until she miscarried."

"And that’s supposed to make it okay?” Cristina punched him in the side. “You slept with Izzie? Of all people? Come on Alex, I knew you were stupid but I didn’t think you were stupid enough to sleep with the one person who consistently used you and never really cared about your well-being unless if it was of some sort of benefit to her. Where’s your self-respect?”

Alex grunted, “I don’t know.”

“That’s why you feel like shit now,” Cristina stated. “You should feel like shit. You should be crying bitch baby tears. What possessed you to make such a colossal mistake. And don’t go say something about how you still love Izzie because we both know that’s not true. You fell out of love with Izzie a long time ago. You fell out of love with her before you ever fell in love with Jo. And Jo… I wish someone loved me the way you love her. Which is what makes this situation so much worse.”

“I don’t know what to do,” Alex released a breath. “I don’t know how to fix this.”

“I don’t think it’s about fixing anything,” Cristina stopped to get a good look at him. “It’s about owning up to your mistake and figuring out if you’re able to move forward. You can’t take it back and you can’t make it better. You’ve got to regain her trust.”

“Easier said than done,” Alex muttered under his breath.

“Go to the hospital and cut into some kids or something,” Cristina waved her hand. “Get out of here. Let me talk to your wife.”

“I don’t know Yang,” Alex frowned uncertainly. “You’re not exactly the warmest person.”

“Shut up,” Cristina scowled at him. “I can be sensitive. Now seriously, go. Give me some time before I change my mind.”

+++

“Wilson! Get up from the bed. It’s time to take a shower and put on a different shirt,” Cristina bellowed as she walked back into the loft. She walked around towards the bed and pulled the covers off of Jo. “Come on. It’s already past noon. You’ve got to at least pretend like you care about personal hygiene.”

“Leave me alone,” Jo groaned and pulled the pillow over her head, muffling her speech. “And it’s Karev, not Wilson.”

“Is it?” Cristina raised an eyebrow. “I wasn’t sure if it still would be you know after everything.”

Jo pulled the pillow off of her face and looked at Cristina waringly, “It’s still Karev. I want to be a Karev.”

“So you’re not planning on leaving evil spawn any time soon?” Cristina sat on the edge of the bed, waiting expectantly for Jo to respond.

Jo appeared lost in thought, “I don’t know. I don’t want to. But I can’t live like this either.”

“Live like what exactly?”

“Live in fear that one day, Alex is going to grow tired of his life with me and leave me for a simpler one that includes an ex-wife and a couple of kids in Kansas,” Jo depanned.

“Do you know how ridiculous you sound right now?” Cristina snorted. “Alex would rather cut off his hands than leave you and Seattle. Do you know how many opportunities he’s had to up and leave this place and he’s stayed? If you’re here, it doesn’t give him much motivation to leave.”

“I don’t think I’m his priority anymore,” Jo chewed on her lip. “He has kids now.”

“How sure are we that those are his kids anyway?” Cristina tilted her head in thought. “Don’t get me wrong. I love Izzie, she was my friend at one point. But she doesn’t exactly have the best moral compass. Sure, she loved Alex, but she loved more what he could do for her. I wouldn’t put it past her to try to pass those kids off as his in an effort to get him back.”

“That’s crazy,” Jo sat up. “No sane person would do something like that.”

“Exactly.”

Whether it was the absurdity of the whole situation or the fact that Cristina was so serious, Jo burst out in laughter, “Oh God.”

Jo’s laughter rang through the loft, “My husband cheated on me with his ex-wife and they have kids together all while I was here having a miscarriage. I had a miscarriage… I had a miscarriage and I was alone. Alex wasn’t there. He cheated on me. Alex cheated on me. Isn’t that the most outrageous thing you’ve ever heard?”

Slowly, Jo’s laughs morphed into heavy sobs. They wracked her body for quite some time as she finally allowed herself to break for the first time since coming home. She hadn’t wanted to do it in front of Alex. Despite partially being the reason for her pain, Jo didn’t want to make him feel any worse than he already felt. Because if there was one thing Jo knew, it was that as much as she would struggle to forgive him, Alex would probably never forgive himself.

Once her cries died down, Cristina rubbed a hand on Jo’s shoulder gently, “Come on. It’s time to shower. You smell bad.”

Jo let out a watery laugh, “Okay I’m getting up.” She stood up from the bed and turned to look at Cristina. “Thank you.”

“You’re welcome,” Cristina nodded. “I’ll be here when you get out.”

True to her word, Cristina was waiting for Jo when she stepped out of the shower, “I don’t cook. Or clean. You know this. We’ve lived together before. But I toasted some bagels if you want one.”

Jo made her way over to the table and grabbed a bagel, spreading a generous amount of cream cheese on it, “Why are you still here?”

“Because I told you I would be,” Cristina shoved a handful of cereal into her mouth.

“Come on Yang, we’re not friends. You don’t owe me anything. Why are you here?” Jo asked, waiting patiently for a response from the woman standing across from her.

Cristina sighed and put down the box of cereal, “Because I know what you’re going through. I’ve been there before.”

“What?” Jo’s face scrunched in confusion.

“It was my intern year. I was sleeping with my attending and I got pregnant,” Cristina started. “I don’t want kids. I never wanted them. But for some reason I struggled a lot with the decision I was going to have to make in the coming weeks. I had finally decided to tell my attending and attempt some semblance of a relationship with him. I hoped it might give me some clarity.” She paused for a moment and looked at Jo. “When I approached him, he broke up with me. Never even got a chance to tell him that I was pregnant. So, I made an appointment. I told Meredith that I was planning to get an abortion and she promised to be there to take me home.”

“I never made it there, though,” Cristina shook her head. “I was observing a surgery that he was performing when I passed out on the OR floor. They paged Addison Montgomery and I was rushed into surgery. Turns out the pregnancy had been ectopic and my Fallopian tube burst. They ended up removing it and I lost the baby… I don’t want kids. I didn’t want to be pregnant or raise a kid. It didn’t fit into my plans. I had planned to terminate. I was sure that it was right for me. But it didn’t make the loss any easier. It didn’t make the fact that I miscarried any less painful. I grieved. I was a wreck. They had to sedate me.” Cristina huffed a laugh. “That’s why I’m here. Because I get it.”

In all honesty, Jo had no idea what to say after Cristina’s story. She never would have imagined sitting across the room with Cristina Yang talking about miscarriages. They weren’t close, not at all. They never spoke for more than a few minutes about things that weren’t work related. Seeing Yang open up to her in this way was foreign.

“I’m sorry,” Jo finally said. “I don’t wish it on anyone.”

“Neither do I,” Cristina grew quiet. She reached over the table and put a comforting hand on Jo’s shoulder. “You're going to get through this. I know you will because you’re stronger than I ever will be. We’ve been through some hard things, but we survived. You’ll survive this and you’ll be happy again someday. And maybe you’ll be a mom again, if that’s what you choose. Whether it’s through birth or being a stepmom to Alex’s kids or both. You have choices. They’re yours to make. No one else’s.”

“Thank you,” Jo swallowed back some tears. “For that reminder. It’s my choice. I’ve been trying so hard to figure out what someone else would do in my shoes that I forgot that I don’t need to depend on the approval of others. It comes down to what I’m willing to lose.”

Jo looked up at Cristina, “I want to get out of this house. Even if it’s just for a few hours.”

“Okay, where do you want to go?”

“I don’t know… anywhere that isn’t here,” Jo shrugged.

“Have you ever been to the space needle? I haven’t and I lived here for seven years. I almost did once, never made it though,” Cristina mentioned.

“You know, I don’t think I’ve ever been to the space needle,” Jo replied.

“Great, I’ll drive.”

[tricksters-captain]

Weasley Twins/Cedric Diggory Imagines - Accidental Meeting - Part 1

AN: So I may have fallen back into my Harry Potter phase at the moment and I came up with a fic idea for a Reader x Cedric and Reader x George Weasley fic and I have the whole thing planned out so I figured I may as well write it down and publish it... And what better way to celebrate the 1st of September; going back to Hogwarts day!

Overall Summary: (Y/n), is a young witch who always kept her head down due to her complicated past; one day she bumps quite literally into one of the most popular boys in Hogwarts, Cedric Diggory, and that’s when (Y/n) plan of keeping her head down seems to go up into the air. Things only seem to worsen when two redheaded twins start to take notice too...

This Chapter: It’s (y/n) 5th year at Hogwarts and things have gone swimmingly until she happens to come across 6th year Cedric Diggory... (Y/n) first day of 5th year suddenly becomes a lot more eventful than she had planned. 

Pairing(s): Cedric Diggory x Reader, (Eventual) George Weasley x Reader, (Platonic) Fred Weasley x Reader, (Platonic) Oliver Wood x Reader

Word Count: 3,947

Warnings: None 

You smiled as you heard the familiar sounds of the train station fill the air with a buzz. You had still yet to reach Platform 9 and 3/4 but even just standing in King Cross brought the familial warmth of knowing you were going back to Hogwarts. 

It didn’t take you long to reach the platform and load your belongings and yourself onto the train. It had been a long and boring summer with your uncle and you were glad to be heading back to the infamous castle. 

You walked through the train until you came across Wood sat inside one of the large compartments of the train with several of his 7th year friends. 

“Bout time you got here, I was starting to think you’d gotten lost and was hiding in the bathroom again.” Oliver stood with a bright smile and hugged you. 

“That happened once, Wood.” You rolled your eyes, waving at the boys sat in the compartment before taking your seat next to Wood. 

Now, from the outside, your friendship with Wood was random and a little confusing considering the fact you weren’t a massive fan of Quidditch... But once people heard the story it soon made sense. 

You had liked to keep your head down from the start of Hogwarts. When you received your letter to attend Hogwarts, you almost didn’t want to, you didn’t want to learn magic only to spiral down a dark path like your parents did. 

Your parents were famed Death Eaters and extremely loyal to he who shall not be named. So, when you opened your letter, you were almost sick with anxiety. After the downfall of Voldemort, your parents were arrested and sent to Azkaban and the worst part was they were the most well known for their crimes and passion for the Dark Lord alongside Sirius, Black, Barty Crouch and Bellatrix Lestrange. 

When you first arrived at Hogwarts, you tried to hide who you were but it wasn’t long until the whispers stirred and the rumours spread which lead to a large group of girls bullying you. 

That’s when Wood came into the picture. 

Wood didn't care for your heritage, he only cared that people were being horrid to you for something you had no control over. 

You belong to Gryffindor house and some of the Gryffindor girls were saying how you belonged in Slytherin and they couldn’t have some bad blooded evil Death Eater in the house.

Wood shut them right down before making sure you were okay and from there, your friendship blossomed. 

Wood was like the older brother you never had and you were forever grateful for him but this year was his final year at Hogwarts. 

“How was your summer? You barely even wrote me.” Oliver asked as he took his seat back beside you. You moved closer to the boy and rested your back against his shoulder as you sighed. 

“Boring. I had nothing to write about.” You shrugged and the other boys in the carriage laughed at your honesty. 

“Well, I had plenty to write about and you missed it all.” Wood argued, just trying to be awkward to annoy you.

“Well then talk! We have a long train journey and it’ll stop me from already opening my new books.” You told him and with that his jaw didn’t stop. 

It had been a few hours and you had zoned out of most of the conversations between the boys and you had in fact cracked open a new book to make the time fly faster when Wood included you again.

“You hear that, (Y/n/n)?” He asked, the mention of your nickname drawing your attention back to the group. 

“What?” You lifted your chin and looked at the boy.

“Since is it my final year, I expect you to be at every quidditch match including the final when we win the cup” He repeated what you had missed with a bright smile. 

“Every match?” You groaned, frowning at the boy. You enjoyed Quidditch but if the weather wasn’t any good or you had some work due close to a quidditch night, you’d rather hit the books. 

“Every match. Last year was your poorest effort yet and you have to make up for it.” Wood practically scolded you. He loved his Quidditch more than anything at Hogwarts so hearing you complain about it was mind boggling for him. 

“I only missed three matches last year.” You defended yourself, 

“Three winning matches.” He argued, his accent thick as he emphasised. 

The conversation was brought to a halt as the train began to slow on the tracks and the lights flickered.

“What’s going on?” Wood asked, looking towards the corridor of the train.

“Maybe we’ve broke down?” You suggested, closing your book as you watched the sky darken outside. 

The air grew colder as the train came to a stop. You pulled your arms around yourself as Oliver stood up to see what was going on. 

Suddenly, a black blur flew past the window, making you feel nauseous with nerves as you realised what was happening.

“It’s a dementor...” You whispered just as you heard the train doors open and felt the whole carriage shake. 

Every carriage of the train seemed silent as the dementors searched the train. You buried yourself into the corner of your seat and Oliver sat beside you, leaning forward protectively. 

“Did they really think Sirius Black would have gotten on the train?” One of Olivers friends asked as the Dementors finally left. 

“He escaped from Azkaban. I’m sure he can sneak onto the Hogwarts Express if he really wanted to.” You spoke plainly. 

The reminder of Sirius Black brought forward the anxieties in you about Azkaban, Death Eaters and your parents. 

You asked Oliver to follow you into the corridor for a private conversation when the train started to move again and he immediately did as asked. 

“Do you wonder if one prisoner can escape Azkaban, can more? At this point, there must be so many dark wizards in there that they can’t keep track of every cell in there?” 

Oliver knew you meant; what if your parents could escape?

“No one is getting out of Azkaban after Sirius Black. The security there will be on high alert. They wouldn’t let it happen again.” Wood held you by the shoulders reassuringly, “(Y/n), you’re safe.” you tried to believe him but the hairs on the back of your neck wouldn’t let you quit worrying. 

“Look, there was a dementor on our train just now. That means one less dementor at Azkaban, doesn’t it?” You crossed your arms over your chest as you lowered your voice so that a passing 4th year couldn’t overhear.

“(Y/n), the ministry canny risk losing anymore prisoners, they already have half of the country’s witches and wizards questioning the safety of their children if they’ve managed to let one prisoner slip. No one else is getting out of Azkaban.” Oliver was right, the ministry couldn’t afford more death eaters escaping their clutches, it would only cause chaos. 

“You might regret saying that so confidently.” You murmured, running your hand through you hair as you looked down the empty corridor. “I think I’m gonna go change into my robes now.” 

Oliver didn’t say much else as you left to find a toilet to change in. 

You shuffled your way down the tight corridor when you clocked a tall handsome boy exiting his compartment with a bag in his hand too. 

Just at that moment, three first years ran past you in their flowing full black robes, forcing you to go fall flat against the boys chest.

The boy caught your wrists steadying you after your stumble. 

“I am so sorry.” You flushed red as you pulled back to see the handsome face was Cedric Diggory from the year above. He was a popular Hufflepuff, liked by everyone and a very good student, not to mention nearly every girl in your year had crushed on him at one point or another.

“It’s fine, don’t worry about it.” He smiled at you, still holding onto you without realisation. 

“I was just going in there to change.” You nodded to the toilet door beside you both and he smiled again. 

“Go ahead, you can go first if you like.” Cedric offered.

“Really? I don’t mind waiting.”

“I insist, honestly.” He opened the door for you and you ducked under his arm to go inside. 

“Thank you.” You blushed again as you closed the door and fell against it. 

You shook off the encounter knowing that really it was nothing as you changed into your school uniform. You brushed down your robes as you took one last look in the mirror before leaving the bathroom to see Cedric chatting with some other 6th year. 

You slipped past and returned to your compartment where Wood was also changed and seemingly falling asleep. 

Wood opened one of his eyes and smirked as he pulled out a chocolate frog box from under his arm. 

“You missed the trolley.” He said as he handed you your favourite sweet. 

“You’re too good to me, Wood.” You beamed a large smile as you took it from him and opened it a tad to see the charmed frog inside. 

As the train finally pulled into it’s destination, everyone jumped out their seats ready to get off the train after the long journey. 

You peaked down the corridor to one of the exits to see Cedric dressed in his robes, looking over at you.

When your eyes met his, he started to push past some of the other students to reach you. 

“You know, I never got your name.” Cedric said as he reached you.

“(Y/n). And you’re Cedric, right?” You took his hand as he offered it. 

“Cedric Diggory.” He introduced himself as if he needed to. 

“May I?” You had noticed Cedric’s tie was wonky and you were desperate for him to fix it. You were a bit of a stiff when it came to tidiness, you took after your uncle that way. 

Cedric looked down at his tie where you had gestured and then shrugged, lifting his chin, giving you his permission. 

You reached up and straightened his tie, tightening it to the collar before quickly withdrawing your hands. 

“Diggory.” Wood’s voice startled you as it reminded you he was stood just beside you. “Congrats on making captain this year. I’m looking forward to seeing you on the pitch again.” Oliver shook Cedric’s hand as he took the attention away from you and onto Quidditch. It was his speciality. 

“Thanks man. I reckon we may have a chance at winning this year.” Cedric’s smile was contagious, you found yourself looking away just to stop your own smile. 

“Not while I’m still here, Diggory.” Wood joshed. 

The whistle blew loudly as the doors opened. The 1st years were first to get off, being guided by the head boy and girl as well as Hagrid to the boats where they get their first full view of the castle in the night sky. 

The rest of the school followed, taking the carriages to the castle, you stuck with Wood, sitting beside him in the great hall for the welcoming feast.

You couldn’t help but notice Potter further down the table. You wondered if he knew who Sirius Black was and what he did. Everyone knows that he would be Blacks next target if Black wasn’t in hiding right now. 

Beside Potter were his friends, Hermione and Ron, and then closer to your side of the table was Ron’s bothers, the Weasley twins and then head boy Percy Weasley. 

The table was alive with chatter of what happened on the train with the dementors and you were surprised to hear that Harry Potter fainted after coming face to face with one. 

You glanced around the room as the first years were being sorted into their houses before the feast can begin. You found yourself looking towards the Hufflepuff table and that's when you spotted Cedric, watching the Gryffindor table, searching for you. 

“Who are you looking at?” Wood turned around to catch you staring at Diggory and within that moment, Diggory’s eyes found you too. “I thought you didn’t do boyfriends.” Wood teased you as you both returned your gaze back to the first years. 

“I don’t. He was looking at me.” You tried to defend yourself but Oliver always saw straight through any of your lies. 

“Welcome! Welcome to another year at Hogwarts.” Dumbledore finally announced his welcome as all the first years were sorted and the frog choir had sang. “Now, I'd like to say a few words before we all become too befuddled by our excellent feast. First, I'm pleased to welcome Professor R.J. Lupin, who's kindly consented to fill the post of Defence Against the Dark Arts teacher. Good luck, Professor.” 

The new professor was young, his face was scarred yet he still remained handsome. You could see his friendly demeanour as he smiled at the students all looking up at him and found yourself actually looking forward to your next DATDA lesson. 

“Our Care of Magical Creatures teacher has decided to retire in order to spend more time with his remaining limbs. Fortunately, I'm delighted to announce that his place will be taken by none other than our own Rubeus Hagrid. Finally, on a more disquieting note, at the request of the Ministry of Magic, Hogwarts will, until further notice, play host to the dementors of Azkaban. Until such a time as Sirius Black is captured. The dementors will be stationed at every entrance to the grounds. Now, whilst I've been assured that their presence will not disrupt our day-to-day activities, a word of caution... Dementors are vicious creatures. They'll not distinguish between the one they hunt and the one who gets in their way. Therefore, I must warn each and every one of you to give them no reason to harm you. It is not in the nature of a dementor to be forgiving. But you know, happiness can be found even in the darkest of times; if one only remembers to turn on the light.” Dumbledore’s speech about the dementors didn’t seem to help the overwhelming nerves inside your chest. 

“You alright?” Wood leaned into you with concern in his eyes. The colour had drowned from your face, not that you had realised. 

“I’m fine. It’s just another year at Hogwarts with some soulless, cold, creepy extra security, right?” You tried to joke but Oliver wasn’t convinced. 

The first years and prefects were the first ones to leave the hall as the first years always had priority when it came to seeing their new common rooms and dormitories. 

You finished off your pudding and left Oliver chatting with his quidditch team about the new tactics he’d been thinking up over the summer. 

You left the great hall, loosening your tie and tossing a hand through your hair as you realised just how tired you were. 

“(Y/n)?” You heard a voice come up behind you and you spun around to see Cedric jogging down the corridor towards you.

“Cedric?” You furrowed your eyebrows, curious to why he was giving you this much attention today. 

“What, um, what are you doing right now?” He asked as he stopped in front of you. 

“Nothing... Heading back to the common room.” You were taken back by his forwardness. 

“Would you... Would you like to, uh, go on a walk with me?” Cedric asked, pointing his thumb over his shoulder. 

“Shouldn’t you be looking after the first years, Mr Prefect?” You had saw him leave earlier with the new Hufflepuff students. 

“They realised the kitchens was right beside our common room so I think they’re preoccupied for now.” Cedric smiled at you and you couldn’t help but smile back. 

“It’s getting late.” You stated, looking up at the night sky from the arch beside you. 

“A short walk then?” Cedric offered his hand. 

Your eyes fell to his palm and you gnawed on your cheek as you contemplated. 

“I don’t bite.” Cedric pushed, his grin never faltering. “I promise.” 

“A short one.” You didn’t take his hand but you walked past him, encouraging him to follow. 

“So, how come we haven’t spoken before?” Cedric asked as he chased after you, his hands in his pockets. 

“I don’t know.” You admitted honestly, “One of the many reasons could be you’re a Hufflepuff, I’m a Gryffindor. I’m 5th year, you’re 6th year. I don’t really have many friends, you have a lot. I like to be alone too. People don’t speak to me that often.” You suggested many reasons but you knew the whole fact was you just barely spent time socialising outside of your friendship with Wood. 

“How come?” Cedric furrowed his brow as he glanced down at you. 

You went quiet as you rounded a corner to enter the courtyard. 

“(Y/n)?” Cedric caught your elbow and brought you to face him.

“People just don’t trust me, I guess.” You pursed your lips into a thin line as you avoided his eyes. 

“Why would they not?” He asked. 

“Cedric.” You looked up at him with a frown, “My name is (Y/n) Seyler.” 

“Seyler? As in...” Cedric didn’t react in fear or disgust but more confusion. 

“As in Lorelei and Mikael Seyler.” Cedric could see the anger flicker in your eyes when you said your parents names. 

“Why would anyone not trust you because of that? They’ve been in Azkaban since you were a toddler.” Cedric seemed genuine about his confusion but you knew that people were judged far too easily at this school by their family names; Weasley, Malfoy, etc.

“People think evil can be inherited. I can’t tell you how happy I was being sorted into Gryffindor, at least I wasn’t following their footsteps then. My father was a Ravenclaw and my mother a Slytherin. I would have even been happy as a Hufflepuff.” You pulled Cedric’s tie out of his jumper and stared at it. 

“What’s wrong with being a Hufflepuff?” Cedric took it from you with a fake hurt on his face. 

“The fact I know Hufflepuffs prefer hanging around with Slytherins than Gryffindors.” You wiggled your eyebrows, it was a known fact throughout the school that if you were a Slytherin you probably had a Hufflepuff as your out of house friend. 

“I guess that’s changing.” Cedric smirked, cocking his eyebrow at you. 

You were speechless at his attempt at flirting but you felt the heat rise to your cheeks. 

“I, um, I better head back to the dorms. Need to unpack and all.” You made up an excuse to excuse yourself.

“I can walk you if you like?” Cedric offered but you had to deny in fear that if you spent much more time with him, someone would notice. 

“It’s okay. Yours is closer from here, it would take longer for you to walk me to the fat lady and then back to your common room. Don’t want to be getting in trouble for being out late on the first night back, do we?” You started to slowly walk backwards as you spoke. 

“I guess that wouldn’t be a great start to the year. Goodnight then, (Y/n).” Cedric nodded his head at you, his soft brown hair bouncing on his head, his smile just as soft.

“Goodnight.” The word came out faster than expected and Cedric just chuckled. 

You turned your back and rushed to the Gryffindor common room. 

Most students were inside now, all heading to their dorms to unpack and relax after the large feast. 

You were greeted by some of the boys in your year who were sat around with the Weasley twins and you politely greeted them back. 

When you reached your dorm, the beds were mostly taken and the girls were nattering about their summer romances and getaways. 

“Hey (Y/n), did you have a nice summer?” Angelina was the one who quietened the girls by speaking to you. 

“It was okay.” You smiled a small appreciative smile at the girl for trying with you. Angelina and Katie were both on the Quidditch team with Oliver so were more friendly with you than most of the girls in your year. 

“Oliver was already talking our ears off at supper about this years Quidditch cup. I don’t know how you sit with him for the whole train journey, he must put you to sleep.” Katie joked which made you and Angelina laugh.

“I’m pretty much immune to his constant chatter by now. I know what and what not to listen to.” You retorted, smiling at the girls. 

“That train journey was pretty scary. The dementors coming aboard was horrible.” Angelina folded her clothes as she spoke. 

“Well, Black breaking out of Azkaban is pretty horrible. If he has any sense he won’t come near Hogwarts.” Katie couldn’t help but let her eyes flicker to you when she mentioned Azkaban but you pretended not to notice. 

“He may not have any sense. Azkaban can drive you mad. The only good thing about that is he’ll caught quickly if he tries to come here.” You kept your eyes down as you unlocked your trunk to find your pyjamas. 

The girls went quiet but soon picked up some other conversation that you weren’t interested in. 

When you felt you had sorted all your belongings out, you slipped on your slippers and went down to the common room. 

Wood was sat on the sofa by the fire. 

“Waiting for me, Oli?” You made yourself known and he grinned up at you. 

“I know your personal schedule way too accurately, Seyler. I was just drawing up some strategies.” Wood showed you his notebook and you just shook your head, taking and closing the book.  

“No more Quidditch talk today, I beg!” You flopped on the sofa beside him, pulling your sweater sleeves up your wrists as you brought your knees up to your chest. 

“Okay... Well, how about we talk about your little evening walk with Cedric Diggory?” 

“How did you find out?” You stared at the boy in disbelief. 

“Percy saw you two together in the courtyard.” He admitted. It was a pain that they shared a room. 

“He asked me to go on a walk with him and I said yes. There’s nothing else to it.” You started, 

“Isn’t he a little old for you, (Y/n)?” Wood asked, almost teasing you. 

“He’s a year older. Anyway, like I said, there’s nothing else to it.” You argued, 

“We’ll see about that, shall we?” Wood rolled his eyes at you which made you whack him.

“I can’t believe it’s your last year.” You tried diverting the conversation to him as you tucked yourself under his arm.

“Finally! I won’t have to spend any more time with you after this year.” Oliver smirked. The cheek of that boy!

“I am a delight!” You whacked him again. 

“You’re a bully. I’ll come up in bruises tomorrow, just you see.” 

“Speaking of tomorrow. We have lessons. We should get to bed, it’s been long day of travelling and if I hear one more of your strategies for this year I may fall asleep on this sofa.” 

“Like I said, a Bully...” Wood stood up and pulled you with him. 

You both returned to your rooms and you fell asleep quicker than expected, the last image in your mind was Cedric with that smile in the train corridor. 

(PART 2 HERE)

[runnfromtheak]

tagged by @icosagens!!! such an eloquent and stunning writer with a sharp sense of humor srsly go check him out on ao3! <3 Specifically check out his JayDickDonna fic, CHCl3 which is beautiful and painful and just E V E R Y T H I N GGGGG.

I'll put everything under the cut so there isn't a terrible amount of scrolling for those wishing to skip <3

Rules: list the first lines of your last ten stories. See if there are any patterns. Choose your favorite opening line.

Anchors of Mortality

AKA my new passion project where Dick has a savior complex and no self-preservation skills featuring a Constantine who just wants to Tap That, a Zatanna who is tired and also wants to Tap That, and a host of resurrected characters because Dick can't let things lie or die. Ships include JayDick and Magic^2Dick (or Dick/Zee/Constantine)

Life ends and life begins in rain, at least as far as Dick Grayson is concerned. His parents died on a rainy day, ice-cold droplets seeping in through the bright, thick cloth of the circus tents. A drizzle, Haly had called it beforehand, telling them not to worry. But rain is an omen – a warning – of an uncertain future, of conflicting emotions and thoughts. It had been a sign he’d been foolish to ignore, a sign Haly had been foolish to ignore.

everything casts a shadow

AKA SladeDick with Slade being the Worst and Dick straight up not having a good time

Zatanna used to say that rain has a cleansing effect on the heart and the soul – and the cock, Constantine would always interject with a filthy leer of promise. Rain purifies negative energy from a space, murder or magic, and rain settles the anxious mind. The three of them had made love in the rain once, intertwining limbs and the glow of magic refracted throughout the cold droplets. Three hearts aligned in a crystalline world of skin and water, for a perfect moment.

a prayer for which no words exist

JayDick where Dick has issues and needs therapy. Like a true emotional support/projection character, he reads instead.

On nights he can’t sleep, he reads.

Dick’s always enjoyed books, had grown up with yellowed pages musty with the scent of age as comfort and entertainment, but he’d stopped reading frequently when he’d grown up. With everything else, with responsibility atop responsibility atop responsibility as he’d aged, he hadn’t the time or the mental capacity to love reading like he had before. He hadn’t been able to focus or concentrate, always oscillating between too keyed up and too exhausted. The words, when he’d try and sift through the neurochemical adrenaline high and sift through the luring temptress of melatonin and sleep deprivation, would float and float and float away like distant birds migrating to a new land.

i'm addicted to the way you hurt (i don't mind if you fuck up my life)

JayDick where Dick is a female and also depressed but not in a sexy way. Very Spuffy s6 vibes if ya know what I mean.

When she comes back to life, her world is a nuclear green.

She’s embraced by something; it cradles her, like she’s a precious bundle of jewels, like something perfect to be coveted. There’s warmth where she rests her head, breasts pillowed beneath her, and she’s held close enough to feel that rhythmic cadence like a siren call to life.

warning signs can feel like they're butterflies (i won't stop 'till i get where you are)

Johnlock fic because I got into the fandom late where Sherlock just can't say no and everyone is sad.

He shoots her blackmailer on Christmas Day on the front porch of a cold mansion.

It’s a good shot – clean, precise – with an entry wound and an exit wound. Bits of brain matter coated in blood spatter at Magnussen's back, a dead-eyed look of shock in his empty eyes.

hold your breath 'till we're in too deep (my love is a mood ring)

JayDick where Dick just wants to love Jason and people (*cough* Jason *cough*) make this a difficult venture.

The thing is: Jason Todd is dead.

The thing is: Jason Todd is holding a detonator in his right fist and a gun in his left, both pointed in Dick’s direction in a fairly menacing way.

The thing is: Dick’s vision is blurry from what may or may not be a concussion and there are little floating Batmen spinning around his head in diapers like a horrifying rendition of Cupid, so his assessments may not be entirely accurate.

i wanna waste my youth on you

DickDonna where Dick Grayson is a fucking simp for Donna Troy but aren't we all? (the correct answer is yes. if you said no, only god can help you now.)

He’s ten and she’s eleven and she’s the most beautiful thing he’s ever seen.

heart on your sleeve like you've never been loved (running in circles now look what you've done)

Johnlock and Adlock where Sherlock picks sex over drugs and John is Not Pleased.

It starts right after the funeral dressed up as a wedding. Tables of decorations he’d picked, dishes he’d selected, color pallets he’d painstakingly coordinated and plotted. John and Mary’s song, weaved from his tears and his blood spilt like ink over the dancefloor as his violin grieves with him.

She’s pregnant. Sherlock smiles, as the best friend is meant to, and John smiles, as the father is meant to, and Mary smiles and it’s all normal and proper and Sherlock’s frozen before she pulls John away with something so horribly knowing in her eyes, before they kiss sweetly on a dancefloor he’d helped pick and lose themselves in throngs of friends and family.

light at the beginning of the tunnel (but he tells me that i'm dreaming)

Johnlock where Sherlock pines and does drugs post T6T.

He hadn’t intended to return. Victorian London holds its own sort of allure, delicious danger at every corner, nothing but pure intellect unaided by modern machinations to solve puzzles of every sort—

(a John Watson that still looks at you like you hung the sun and the stars just for him, like you’re the center he orbits, a gravity he doesn’t care to escape. A place where deductions still evoke tenderness, approval. Where John Watson still wants to hear your voice and cares for you, even with Mary.)

—but it had been dangerous. It had been utterly reckless, a calculated OD with no less than five compounds of varying effects, each boosting the others into a delightful failing of his heart that hadn’t lasted because his transport’s tenacity outweighed his mind’s desires. The fanciful realm where his life hadn’t gone to complete and utter shite had never been a conscious plan. Sherlock hadn’t intended for his brain to grasp for a chain, a link to reality in the form of delusions and hallucinations and awful attempts at honesty. He hadn’t planned for a did you miss me? Despite all his claims to the contrary at the time.

me and you are such a beautiful tragedy (in love with agony)

JayDick Jason wants to be a good person but he's horny. AKA the new pitch for evil: come to the dark side, we have great sex or your ex that can and will kill you if you don't.

The thing about the Lazarus Pit is it consumes you. It’s greedy, like Midas’s touch on a cellular level. It replaces the old with the new – with it – carving a home in blood and soul for its will. For its intentions, passive though they seem at first. Mental stability is only one cost of such a bargain, but it’s by far the worst.

I mean, I used rain as a symbol/parallel twice but mehhh. I don't think I'm super duper set in any formula as far as first lines go. I think my fave would either be the Lazarus Pit line or the nuclear green one. I love my Pit consequences, okay?

Tagging @boyblunder-thedarkheir, @behindtherobinsmask, @luthienluinwe, @stevieraebarnes, and @bitterleafs!! <3

[theresnosafeharbor4myships]

TITLE: Sleepy Holloween

A/N: This Ichabbie Halloween fic is pure fluff and cuteness. No plot to be found here, just flirts and enjoyment.

“I’m sorry, Emily. I had to wait 300 years for a virgin to light a candle.”

An orchestra played an epic few bars of music, a drumroll sounded, and Abbie turned the TV off as the credits started to roll.

“Well, Crane, what’d you think?”

He turned to Jenny, who was cuddled up with Joe on the opposite end of the couch. “It was…palatable.”

Jenny gave him her blank stare of disbelief, and Joe smiled knowingly, but it was Abbie, who’d stayed tucked into his side for the duration of the movie, who prompted, “Come on, tell us what you really think.”

He glanced down at her, noting her sincere, if amused, look. “Is this, in all honesty, a children’s film?” he asked, genuinely perturbed.

“Well…not small children,” Joe supplied.

“And what is considered ‘small,’ Master Joe? I dare to presume there are parents who’d rather not expose young minds to witchcraft and the occult. It’s difficult enough for the four of us to manage it—but to appropriate it for entertainment on our youth…”

“You mean to tell me children in your day didn’t watch real life horrors worse than a little Halloween fantasy?” Jenny countered, forceful but kind. “That they weren’t exposed to hangings and gunfights and war? Not to mention the treatment of slaves.”

Crane looked duly reprimanded. "I suppose I can see where…times have altered enough that All Hallow’s Eve fantasy films are less traumatic than real life has been known to be.”

“And that’s your only comment on the film?” Abbie asked.

He quirked an eyebrow at her. “Certainly not. The inaccuracies in this movie are quite numerous.”

“Here we go,” Joe murmured good-naturedly, eliciting knowing smirks from the Mills sisters and a slightly offended look from Crane.

“To begin with, most cabins in the 17th century would be much smaller than the one Binx and Emily shared, and they likely would have slept in the same room as their parents, perhaps even in the same bed, depending on their economic status.”

“Oh! We’re starting at the beginning,” Jenny teased, extracting herself from Joe and stretching.

Crane tilted his head at her in disdain but continued as Joe and Jenny rose to take their leave. “By dawn, the entire town would have been roused and already about their day. The witch Sarah would not have had the opportunity to lure young Emily to her demise at daybreak.”

“Speaking of a break, we need to head out,” Joe explained, waving at them as they headed for the door.

“Good luck, Abbie,” Jenny threw over her shoulder, smirking as they exited the house.

Abbie smiled and waved, content to stay securely tucked into Ichabod’s side for a few more minutes, even if she had to listen to another historical inaccuracy rant in order to do so.

“You get three,” she stated.

He peered down at her questioningly. “I don’t understand.”

“Tell me three issues you had with the movie. Only,” she held up her hand against his coming dispute, “three.”

“Very well. One: If the witches had spent 300 years in eternal damnation, should they not have recognized that ridiculous man dressed as the devil wasn’t him? We’re supposed to believe they think Lucifer takes on human form, has also left the depths of Hades—the place they’ve just escaped from—and lives in a modern home with a wife and a dog?”

“Everyone’s gotta live somewhere,” Abbie teased, earning her a classic Ichabod glare.

“Two: When the sisters are chasing those poor children, Witch Winnifred mocks young Max’s words, ‘it’s just a bunch of hocus pocus.’” His professor’s finger came up, and Abbie did her best to refrain from smiling at him. “Regardless of the fact that ‘hocus pocus’ is a sham-Latin phrase that jugglers employed in the 17th century—not to mention a common stage name both they and magicians used—how would she have known he said such phrase since he hadn’t yet lit the black flame candle, and therefore she wasn’t in this realm?”

Abbie nodded, considering his point, but refrained from answering, instead holding up three fingers to remind him he was about to round home.

“And three: Since the sisters only returned for one All Hallow’s Eve and they spent it chasing those children around all of Salem, how in Heaven’s name did Witch Winnifred know what a driver’s permit is? It took me months to get mine, and that only after you spent every waking hour explaining the 21st century and all of its advancements and gadgets to me and teaching me how to master the iron horse.”

“Fair enough,” she conceded, mildly entertained by his nitpicking, though she couldn’t help adding, “It is a fantasy film, though.”

Ichabod looked pleased she agreed with him and nodded. “I do admit, it was a bit of fantastical fun though,” he allowed, his voice calmer now that he’d aired some of his grievances. “Quite comforting to know others fight the tyranny of evil, even if it is merely make-believe. Will we watch this every year?”

“It’s a requirement in this house. And since you live here too now…”

“Indeed I do.” He lifted an eyebrow, a flirty smile teasing his lips as he kissed her.

“Come on.” Abbie patted his thigh as she pulled away from him. “It’s time to get ready. The kids’ll be here soon.”

*****

“Abbie…are you coming down?” Ichabod called up the staircase.

“On my way. You dressed?”

She heard him mumble something about ‘infernal style,’ but then his voice carried up to her. “Yes, and most anxious to see your costume.”

Abbie didn’t know what to prepare for, either in terms of what costume he’d chosen or what he’d think of hers. She couldn’t help hoping he’d appreciate her outfit choice even more than he had her Beyonce get-up from last year—which he’d enjoyed just fine. She recalled how his appreciative gaze roamed from her full head of faux curls, across her face where she’d applied a classic but simple make-up style, lingered a few seconds too long on her lips before dropping down to her neck where her ‘Queen’ necklace caused him to smirk approvingly at the statement before sliding down to her unusually low-cut shirt, which provided a rare and revealing view of her cleavage. His eyes lingered again, then traveled down the length of her body to stare at her shorts with the bling on the pockets and her bare legs. After a few moments, he suddenly seemed to remember himself, and his eyes snapped up to her face where her knowing smile made him a bit embarrassed to have gawked at her so.

This outfit didn’t reveal her attributes in the same way, but she’d bet money it’d please him all the same.

She smoothed down the sides of her costume, then started down the stairs. Ichabod came into sight, standing tall, proud, regal, and ramrod straight, and she nearly tripped over her own feet. His hair had disappeared beneath a white sailor’s cap with a black bill and gold trim. The white jacket with epaulets on the shoulders and gold buttons running down the middle made his blue eyes shine even brighter than usual as he heatedly watched her descend the stairs. A single, thin, gold ribbon encircled the jacket’s wrists and striped down the sides of the white pants he wore, the entire uniform making him appear nobler and even taller than his 6 foot-plus frame.

She’d never expected to see him in a contemporary costume, having long since given up trying to get him to wear anything modern, and she had no clue what had possessed him to go military for Halloween. But he certainly didn’t disappoint, and she suddenly wished she had one of those old handheld folding fans ladies used to carry around to cool herself off with.  

Ichabod watched Abbie float down the stairs, mesmerized by her costume. She’d pinned all of her hair up, leaving a single, thick curl falling over her shoulder. Her dress, a deep green that complimented her beautifully flushed brown skin, had long sleeves that ended with a frill of off-white lace at her forearms. The court neckline, cut down nearly to her armpits, highlighted the length of her neck, her collarbones, the glow of her skin, and her bust. The dress’s bodice, an inset corset also in off-white, contrasted beautifully against the dark green of the rest of the dress and emphasized her petite frame and small waist. From her hips, the dress flared out and down to the floor, her tiny feet hidden beneath its layers.

She looked stunning, as though she’d stepped out of the Revolutionary War era with him. He knew his gaze lingered in awe, but he couldn’t stop himself. He’d admit he loved seeing Abbie wear her modern-day clothes—blue jeans, form-fitting shirts, a silk robe, a tank top and short shorts to bed—though Heaven knew they all left little to the imagination, which he was both forever grateful for and infernally distracted by. But seeing her like this, resplendent in Colonial couture, left him speechless and mesmerized as she came to stand in front of him.

Abbie recovered first. “Hello there, sailor,” she cooed, a full smile gracing her face.

Ichabod mentally shook himself out of his stupor and swallowed hard. “Ah-ah, it’s Captain,” he corrected, pointing to one of the stripes gracing the left side of his chest.

“Oh,” she exclaimed, impressed. “O Captain, my Captain.”

“And no other’s,” he assured her, his voice dropping low. “Abbie….you look…” While his words trailed off, his hand started at her wrist and slid up her arm, over her shoulder, across her bare collarbone.

“Colonial?” she supplied, delighted her endeavor to please and surprise him had elicited this effect.

“Well, yes, but I was going to say 'magnificent,’” he explained as he tipped her chin up and kissed her, his other hand finding her waist.

He felt her smile against his lips, and he pulled away, then changed his mind and gave her another peck before taking her hands in his and a step back to drink in the sight of her once more.

“You seem very pleased, love.”

“I am,” she confirmed, smiling, watching his eyes roam over her again. “I wanted to surprise you with a little something from your…previous life.”

“Mission well accomplished,” he affirmed, tugging her towards him with their still-clasped hands. He leaned in close to kiss her neck. “Though I can’t wait to take this off of you,” he whispered against her skin.

“Ah,” she gasped, simultaneously easing away from him and pushing him away, though her hands remained on his chest. “Don’t start; it’s much too early for that. Besides…” Her eyes roamed heatedly over him again. “I need some time to enjoy you fully embracing the military style of today.”

“Mm,” he hummed, taking a step back from her and holding his arms out wide for her perusal. “So this suits you?”

“It suits you,” she returned cheekily. “It pleases me.”

He arched one brow. “How much, we shall find out later.”

“Indeed,” she agreed in a teasing tone, mocking his go-to affirmative.

One side of his mouth turned up, amused. “Shall we get on with the festivities, Mistress Abbie?” he asked, changing the subject before things got too out of hand. Heaven knew he’d need to try to keep things neutral in order to make it through the rest of the evening without ravishing her.

“Mistress? You know…that designation doesn’t mean the same thing now as it did before,” she informed him as she headed towards the kitchen.

“No? What, pray tell, does it mean now?”

She reached into the cabinets for the bags of candy she’d bought, handing them to him. “It usually refers to a woman in a relationship with a married man.”

“Has this generation found no end to the butchering of the English language? In my day, a mistress was the head of her home, holding a position of control and authority; it was a title of respect. It boggles the mind how a term of female empowerment has been subverted such that it now refers to something…tawdry.”

“Agreed; your definition is much better,” Abbie stated, pulling the large orange bowl with black bats all over it from another cabinet, setting it on the island between them. “You can call me Mistress, if you feel the need, with the understanding that you’re referencing the original meaning. How’s that sound?”

“But you are my Mistress,” he said matter of factly.

Abbie splayed her arms wide, gripping the countertop, and stared at him questioningly, waiting for him to explain himself.

“You’re the head of the household. And respected, of course. But you’re also a woman in a relationship with me, a married man.”

“But you’re married to me. That’s not…tawdry,” she mocked his phrasing again.

With a glint in his eye, one side of his mouth quirked up. “Not yet…but the night’s still young, my mistress Abbie.”

She shook her head, amused and not a little warmed by his flirtations, the smooth way he breathed her name sending heat dancing up her spine. “You’re incorrigible. And if you don’t stop, this will be the last time you see me wearing this costume.”

“That is the idea.”

Needing levity, she pointed to the bags of candy in front of him. “Will you open those and pour them in this bowl while I go turn on the porch light? Light on means free candy. Light off, kids skip the house.”

Ichabod tipped his sailor’s hat at her. “Your wish is my command, Mistress.”

“Mmhmm.” Though her heart thrummed wildly, she threw him a disbelieving look as she headed to the entryway, her dress swooshing around her as she moved.

She chosen her costume to surprise her dashing husband, but truthfully she enjoyed the dress herself. It made her feel feminine and stately. Not that she’d want to wear the layers and corset-style bodice every day—thank God she’d been born in the 20th century—but it was a nice change. Her childhood and her profession hadn’t allowed for many of life’s pleasures so she’d always made a point to have fun on Halloween as an adult. Choosing a costume each year—the range varying from Wonder Woman and a mermaid to a Greek goddess and Beyonce—gave her the opportunity to pretend she was someone else, imagine all the fantastical lives she could live if given the chance. It’d become one of her favorite holidays, and she hoped Ichabod would come to love it and all the ways to celebrate it too.

He’d certainly taken to it more this year than last. He’d huffed and chuffed as they’d searched the Spirit Halloween store the previous year, becoming more horrified by the evil nature of most costumes and more offended by the lack of creativity of women’s outfits with each passing aisle. After perusing the entire store, he’d resolutely decided on a colonial figure, which really hadn’t required a costume at all, and wouldn’t budge. This year he’d suggested they choose costumes separately. She’d thought he’d just rather avoid the pretense of shopping for an acceptable get-up when he knew one couldn’t be found to appease his colonial sensibilities, but he’d deliberately surprised her, just as she’d done for him.

“Why are these called 'fun size’?” he called out to her.

She saw him warily eyeing the miniature Snickers bar he held and smiled, making her way back to the kitchen. “Because they’re smaller than average.”

“Hmm,” he rumbled with uncertainty, tossing the candy back into the bowl before he realized he had an audience. His eyes landed on her again, taking in the exquisite dress and the beloved woman wearing it, and his expression changed. “I’m most certainly of the opinion that smaller than average is 'fun size,'” he teased, dropping a kiss onto her temple as he grabbed the candy-filled bowl and made his way into the living room.

Another 15 minutes passed before the doorbell rang with the first trick-or-treaters seeking candy, and the two jawed on about their day: the pumpkin carving fun they’d had with Joe and Jenny before they’d watched Hocus Pocus, how they’d each selected their costumes with one another in mind, how they’d spend the upcoming holiday season, and what they’d do with any candy left over if they didn’t give it all away tonight.

Sitting closer to the front door, Abbie got up to answer it, and Ichabod sprang up to accompany her. She unlocked the deadbolt and reached for the doorknob when she felt his hand upon her arm, restraining her.

“Hold on a moment, Fun Size,” Ichabod’s voice rumbled from behind her as he curled himself around her and slid his hand down her arm to cover hers. “A captain must ensure his mistress is safe at all times.”

She smiled at his flirtation as he peered through the window at the top of the door, a full head above her own height. “Such chivalry,” she preened.

“Tis my duty,” he corrected.

“And your pleasure.”

“You’ve no idea,” he informed her, leaning down to kiss her bare neck. But before he could, Abbie ducked beneath his arm and out of his embrace.

“Not as of yet,” she taunted, throwing him a brazen smile and opening the door with one hand, grabbing the candy bowl off the entryway table with the other.

A small princess, Thor, and a clown stood on the porch, candy baskets held aloft as they all chimed ‘Trick or Treat!’ together.

Abbie grinned at the excitement on their faces and graciously dropped candy into each of their bags, waving as they skipped away to the next house.

“My, I do see the joy of celebrating All Hallow’s Eve in this fashion.”

His voice came from behind her, and she turned a bit to see him watching the children roam around on their street in a myriad of costumes: dragons, superheroes, monsters, pumpkins, fairies, and Disney characters.

“No wonder children enjoy it so immensely.”

“And you, Captain Crane?” she wondered, happy seeing the delight on his handsome face. “Are you enjoying it?”

He peered down at her and smiled contentedly. “Yes,” he affirmed, wrapping his arms around her waist. She leaned back into him as they stood in the doorway waiting for their next visitors, and he dropped a kiss on the crown of her head, causing them both to smile. “Yes, I most certainly am.”

[slurrmp]

for Dhawan master 22 - a kiss that is leading to more, but is interrupted by a third party really enjoyed your other fic x

                          50 types of kisses | inbox is currently closed.

This really shouldn’t have surprised you. Really, truly shouldn’t - because in all honesty it was you that you were talking about. You had a tendency to have trouble follow you around wherever you went. The Doctor had said you were like a magnet, pulling everything that had an inkling of bad towards you, which when you realised that you had a slight thing for the Master (of all fucking people) you just gave a soft sigh to yourself in the mirror of your bathroom and just nodded your head.

“What else was I expecting.” You had muttered running a hand through your hair. You didn’t know whether you should have cried or laughed. One of those could signify that you were slightly crazy, but once again, you didn’t know which one it would be. So you sucked it up and just … held onto the emotions you had as tightly as you could. Never actually letting them come to the surface.

But you had forgotten how stubborn the Master was. Forgot how forceful and annoying and just straight up blunt he was. The Daniel Barton incident had been wrapped up and the Master had been taken away by those things that were bathed in white light, that was six months ago already and well, you all thought the Master was gone, that he wouldn’t be coming back. But turns out the fucker was like a cockroach, he was incredibly hard to get rid of and the Doctor wasn’t exactly having any of it. She tried to get him to leave once again, this time not even bothering to reason with him or even keep him in the TARDIS this time around.

She had said that she had tried once before, to you it sounded like many times before but you weren’t going to pry, though you knew that one of them involved a vault underneath a university - considering that’s where you met the Doctor, but again that was pure speculation. This time around, you didn’t actually think that going undercover at some fancy ass party was an actual thing people did. This was something they do in heist movies, or movies about fast cars and mafias, but here you were. You didn’t actually think the Doctor would go for something like this, but the Master had told her all about an evil rich guy making deals with aliens, all via hologram of course.

So, in the end, you found yourself partnered with the Master. The pair of you were standing on top of the grand stair case, leaning against the railing and looking over the crowd. The dress you wore was uncomfortable but you weren’t going to complain, the sonic screwdriver was strapped to your thigh, you had the duty of getting the information from the rice guys office and the Master had the job of getting this rich guy to talk when you finally caught him and you were there to make sure he didn’t ‘accidentally’ kill the guy.

“God, these types of events make me so nervous.” You mumbled to yourself, looking down at the hundreds of guests. You didn’t even have a clue who any of these people are - maybe you were grateful it wasn’t your proper timeline.

“Not one for crowds?” That was Graham, you forgot that you had an earpiece in. Some alien tech - extremely comfortable and untraceable, well that’s what the Doctor said anyhow. She begrudgingly gave one to the Master as well, though when she did so, it was all pointed looks and silent stares.

“Not one for the company.” You raised a brow and looked up at the Time Lord who stood next to you. A slight smirk appeared on his face and a hand pressed against one of his hearts.

“I’m hurt.” He replied but you just rolled your eyes, before they looked down at your watch and then over your shoulder.

“Less chatter you two, be on the look out. We don’t know how dangerous he can be.” The Doctor pitched in, looking back over the crowd you spotted the blonde, back in that tuxedo that she had pulled out of nowhere, she was lingering near Yaz, but was looking up at you. Raising your hand, you gave a two finger salute.

“Oh come on, you know you like me.” The Master continued and you tried to keep the blush from appearing on your cheeks. So once you noticed that the guards had finally moved away from the rich guys office, you turned on your heel.

“Come on, hot stuff.” You tried not to wince. “We only have five minutes.”

“Hot stuff?” That was Ryan. Growling softly you pressed a finger against your ear piece and the signal went dead. Stalking forward, you made it to the door, sweeping aside the skirt of your dress, you pulled the sonic from your thigh holster and soniced the door open.

“Hot stuff?” The Master echoed as he leaned against the door frame, giving you the most flirtatious look and you rolled your eyes once more. For someone who had been trying to kill you all only six months prior, he seemed awfully chipper to be back. 

“Oh, shut up.” You both entered the room and immediately your shoulders relaxed when you spotted the laptop. Picking off your high heels and then proceeding to chuck them to the Master, who caught them with ease (the fucker), you sped over to the desk and slid into the large, obnoxious chair and soniced the laptop, before placing it back into the holster on your thigh. “Yes,” You muttered, pressing on the ear piece once more. “Okay, I’m in.” lifting your eyes, you saw that the Master was keeping true to his word, he had his whole body leaning against the door once more, your heels held on one finger resting against his shoulder.

You teeth bit into your lower lip. No, stop concentrate.

“Right, get everything you can onto the USB kind of thing that I gave you.” The Doctor answered. The Master turned his head to look back at you, before he remembered and started to dig through the pocket of his suit jacket. Chucking the small red like USB device to you. Managing to catch it in one hand, you quickly plugged it into the laptop, you fell back against the chair as a box popped up.

Copying 1,200 files ….

“Right, 2 minutes.” You brought your thumb up to your lips and started to chew on your nail. 

“You humans and the strange concept of looks.” Your eyes shot skyward. It was like that was all you ever did when the Master was around. “I mean, I wouldn’t say that you’re wrong but boy …” you name fell off his lips like butter and that caused a shiver to run down your spine. “…you never struck me as someone who would base who you liked off of looks.”

Silence. You weren’t going to answer him, especially when you knew that everyone could hear you. The Master didn’t continue either, just kept looking out the door, which you were grateful for. “30 seconds.” You spoke.

“Well, you better hurry, love. Because if you want me to keep my promise, we have to leave soon.” Leaning forward again, you felt your leg bounce up and down, before finally the box closed and you slid the USB out.

“Okay done, let’s go.” Racing over to the Master, you grabbed his hand, your shoes in the other before you burst your way out of the office. The pair of you managed to slide behind the opposite wall as the guards finally took their places in front of the door once more. What you didn’t notice was that the Master had pushed you back against the wall, considering you were too busy looking around the corner. When you straightened up, all you saw was his bow tie. Swallowing the lump that suddenly appeared at the back of your throat, you looked up.

You tried not to flinch backward, his dark eyes bored into yours all of a sudden and before you knew it he was leaning down - his hands coming up and capturing your face in between them. “What are you doing?” You mumbled your breath catching at the back of your throat. “They didn’t even see us.”

“I’m not doing it for them…” He mumbled himself. The pad of his thumb was calloused and the feel of it against your soft cheek caused you to shiver. It was unusual hearing him speak so softly, the music almost drowned him out. It was another couple of seconds of the pair of you staring at each other. Then it happened so quickly, lips pressed against yours and a soft grunt left the back of your throat as you were pushed back into the wall. Your right hand tightened its hold of the USB, while your other dropped the shoes, before it came up and gripped onto the Master’s shoulder. Nails trying to dig into the fabric of his suit. Oh, I really shouldn’t like this, you thought to yourself.

You had no idea how long the pair of you were joined at the lips. Though, it was long enough, that one of your legs managed to wrap around his thigh and your hands were now wrapped around his neck - fingers clutching onto each other, trying your best to hold yourself up. His stubble was brushing against the base of your neck and you couldn’t help the moan that escaped your lips as you took in a deep breath.

The pair of you were so self absorbed that you didn’t even hear the extra set of heels coming up behind you. “Hey!” The voice called but you just thought it was for someone else. There were a billion other people here, many of them were doing exactly the same as you. “The Doctor is wondering …oh shit.” That’s when you snapped back, so fast that you actually forget that there was a wall behind you.

An annoyed hiss escaped through your clenched teeth. You squinted and spotted Yaz over the Master’s shoulder, who in return was leaning over you even more, his forehead pressed into your shoulder.

“Oh fuck, Yaz…” You spoke and your friend - who was once more dressed to the nines in a marvelous suit, tried her hardest to keep the smirk off her lips. But it was hard to guess whether or not she was … amused or disgusted. Her eyes conveyed a completely different emotion. It was then that you tried to untangle yourself from the Master’s body, but he wasn’t exactly making it easy for you to leave him. 

You slapped his chest a couple of times and eventually you managed to push him away. It was then that you started to trail after your younger friend. “Yaz for the love of God don’t tell her!” But by the time you had caught up to her at the bottom of the stairs, she had already disappeared into the crowd.

“This should be interesting conversation then,” The Master spoke into your ear and you couldn’t help but jump at his sudden appearance. Your whole body sagged and you wiped away the smudged lipstick.

“Oh shut up.” You’re not looking forward to the lecture, you undoubtedly are about to receive.

[lunafeather]

Post S3 and Ideas from your WIP basket!

WOO OKAY

Post S3

When season 3 ended, I had this idea for this awesome post season multi-chapter fic. It probably would have been like 12-15 chapters, and was full of UST>RST>UST and angst and fluff. A kind of fix it fic, you know? It was inspired by this idea that Beth would gradually forget about the hitman because he is ignoring her, and that the final conflict is the hitman finally showing up to do the job she paid him to do, after her and Rio had worked through their shit and were on good terms/kind of in a relationship. It spiraled into something much bigger and more complex, to the point where even that final hook was on the chopping block. I think I ended up wanting the ultimate goal of the fic to be them finally teaming up and being head of their own departments. Kind of my “how I want this show to end” thing.

There was Beth finally losing her shit on Rio and Dean! Finally kicking the latter out! Demanding equal claim to her work from the former! Rio/Annie/Ruby fun! Rival gangs! One or both of them saving/taking care of each other! Them getting into an argument and finally just talking (yelling) about everything that’s happened between them! Honesty! Pain! Vulnerability! Beth bossing up for real! Outsmarting and possibly poaching Phoebe to the dark side! Being disgustingly horny around Mick until he flees! 

I researched Spa and Pool businesses for hours, y’all. I know so much about that shit now.

The WIP document is 2100 words of just planning and outlining. I think I have snippets of scenes and story hooks, but I was going all in on structuring this thing. It was a huge project.

Unfortunately, I lost a lot of steam re: writing and the fandom, so I abandoned everything. The little thing I posted last night is the first time I’ve written anything since May, when I was planning this fic. Depression/Anxiety/Pandemics are tough, you know?

But honestly lately I can’t stop thinking about Brio, and I miss reading my flavor of fics (mostly fluff with a little angst, UST, slow burns, tropes galore!) and the number of fics posted daily has slowed, so I want to contribute! And I’m writing for myself now more than ever. So maybe I’ll pick this back up at some point?

A couple snippets:

"I've been protectin' you, keepin' you from other guys' radar. Not everyone is as nice as me, Elizabeth."

She scoffs at 'nice'. "I can handle myself. When Gil tried to take advantage of me, I flipped it back in my favor. And I shot you, didn't I? Took you out of the game for a while."

His dark eyes deepen to black, long, thick eyelashes framing them in a way that makes him beautiful but absolutely dangerous. He crowds into her space, staring her down, and sneers, "Cept you didn't finish the job, huh? And you won't even touch a gun now."

Beth's mouth pulls into a sharp line. "There are other ways to protect myself."

+

Discussions with Rio about output numbers, she should be making more fake cash as she has the capacity for it, except the paper porcupine presses can't keep up with demand, Rio wonders why she can't bring more presses into the warehouse, they argue about Dean not knowing and thinking it's legit, how it's hindering the operation. Rio offers a guy or two, since he knows they're trustworthy --

Trustworthy to you

He just smiles

+

ONE BED TROPE :)

Ideas

So I have three ideas broken down in this document that I really like and was pretty dedicated to writing at some point, but that point was very nebulous haha all of them would still be fun to explore, even with the events of Season 3 unfolding! All of them would take place before the Season 2 finale though. I prefer to pretend that didn’t happen whenever I can.

So first idea is: Jane did disappear, and Dean orchestrated it in an attempt to frame Rio and his gang in order to convince Beth that Rio is evil and to remove him from her life. She goes to Rio and he helps her figure out what happened/find Jane. Honestly I just want to mess with Dean being like.... an actual psycho lol and this fic would be in that Dubby sweet spot that I love so very, very much!

2nd Idea: Dean threatens to get Rio killed, destroy Beth’s life, and take their kids away forever if she doesn’t walk away from him. Instead of folding, Beth goes to Rio and together they work out a plan to frame Dean in the FBI’s investigation. Beth pretends to be the perfect non-criming wifey while seeing Rio in secret; their relationship gets more and more serious until they are sleeping/being romantic together regularly. Just when they are about to finish their con, Dean starts cottoning on and buys a gun to confront Rio with, and stumbles on the pair in the middle of some sexy times. Accidentally fires (cause he’s scared as shit and an idiot) and Beth takes the bullet instead. Aaaaand all the aftermath of that. AGAIN that Dubby sweet spot!

3rd Idea: Te Amoooooo! Teeth rotting fluff and established relationship goodness, I don’t give a fuck if it’s a little OOC, I want to write it so I can read it. Basically, Beth doesn’t sleep naked with Rio because she’s self conscious, Rio is hurt by it because he interprets it as her not trusting him. Slowly she wears less and less until she finally doesn’t dress after sex, Rio is sated and half asleep and deliriously happy and accidentally whispers te amo into her hair (thinking she’s asleep) then freezes and gets super awkward and distant when he realizes what he said. She asks about it the next morning, if he acted funny because she slept naked and he’s like no no uhhh I said something and she’s like, oh that? What’s the big deal? You’ve said I love you before and he has to explain why it’s such a huge deal.

Te Amo is the one I want to work on the most, I need the fluff, okay??? Also the idea is a collab with @johnisntevendead (ConvolutedConcussions), so like it’s got that friend enabling thing going for it haha

Thank you for sending me this! I wasn’t expecting many of these, and I have been so pleasantly surprised!!

Send me a title from my list of WIPs that you’d like to know more about!

[comradeocean]

I haven't read Arya x Gendry in like ... 6 years. I caught up a bit this week. Here are some I really like! 

[30 some fic recs after the jump]

post 8x01 Arya keeps looking for reasons to visit Gendry in the forge. - mmh post episode askbox fic

Somewhere to Begin, MissAtomicBomb (mrs_nerimon) The Stark sisters share a moment in the wake of some impactful reunions. - lmao my most frequently used GoT tag was "westeROS" (remember Ros???) followed by "Stark famly dynamics." So Stark sisters hashing things out... my kryptonite

Beautiful & Deadly Sharp, vlaurie17 Learning to fight with a sword were some of Arya's best memories. Sansa, however, was hesitant. “What do I do with it?” “Stick ‘em with the pointy end,” Arya smirked. Sansa just rolled her eyes, “Obviously." - also Stark sisters revisiting being Vengeance-made-girls together and practising to knife someone

I'll sing for you, Ravenclawpride06 Set post 8x1. Gendry wants it bad. Arya wants it worse. Was going to more explicit but I left it vague, felt it fit better in the end. All the pining! - I’m soft for the pining

This is my wish, crazychipmink "As he studied the drawing she had given him, he slowly began to let himself believe that she was real and alive and well. He had thought about Arya so many times that the memory of her was worn in his mind. Fragile and faded, like a piece of parchment that had been read too many times. To tell the truth, sometimes, he couldn’t even remember what she looked like, only that she was the only thing he ever wanted, ever wished for.” - season 8 episode companion fic series - ao3 tag: weapons design processes are long and require many iterations - “Davos assumed he was waiting to play his part in the great war to come, but in reality, Gendry was waiting for the next remarkable thing to happen to him. Perhaps if enough remarkable things happened to him, he would finally let himself believe that the most remarkable thing that had ever happened to him had happened.” wow ok

Who are you waiting for? crazychipmink [incomplete] "She had Arya’s face and Arya’s voice and even Arya’s smile. But despite all that, he felt like he had just spoken to a ghost. An unnatural ghost of Arya, pretending to be the girl he was in love with. Gendry had traveled to the end of the world to find her, but now that he finally had, she was gone." - the angst universe evil twin version of the fic above - we will take it bc we love to suffer - and also bc the author promises "fluff" and "eventual romance" ok sounds real but ok

the thing with feathers, yanak324 If anyone is capable of bringing the old Arya back, it’s this man in front of her, which is precisely why she must walk away. - a more (immediately) optimistic read of how Arya's in episode enactments of being No One might have gone

and in the end, jeeno2 [incomplete] Five times Gendry Waters is an idiot and the one time he figures things out. - Gendry being dumb is kind of a thing and I'm not always the biggest fan of how it plays out in fanon but this is sweet!

 The She-Wolves of Winterfell, vixleonard The pack survived. So has the Stark habit of keeping secrets. - 2nd generation Stark girls. Arya's daughter matter-of-factly saying "Stark women don't get married" - a whole ass mood.

Mid-Battle, Mary_West Sandor has something important to say to Gendry - if only Gendry can live long enough to hear it.

season 8 AU My Lady sanctuary_for_all Gendry and Arya find each other again. (AKA the plotline Gendry deserved in 7X07) - fic convention I am 100% here for: Arya scrabbling around Gendry's face looking for the seam. fic convention I am 100000% here for: Arya throwing off her glove in order to do so and then holding her hands against his cheek

Nights are for You (or Five Times Arya Visits Gendry in the Forge and One Time Gendry Visits Arya in the Castle) ASwornStark She hasn’t visited the forge since Jon returned home with the dragon bitch (the Stark sisters’ favored name for her) and him in tow. - reunion fic

season 7 Before We Jump, MissAtomicBomb (mrs_nerimon) Arya Stark's bastard boys bond on their way to the Wall. - anything for some good rowing references and bastard subjectivity

earlier laughing 'till our ribs get tough (that will never be enough), belasteals "Gendry took one look and laughed so hard that wine came out of his nose, until Harwin gave him a thwack alongside his ear." - A Storm of Swords, Arya IV (or, Gendry's POV on Acorn Hall) - real ones can't get enough of book canon and Acorn Hall.

Butcher, elephant_eyelash Gendry and Arya by the fire, discussing jacket potatoes and thinking murderous things. - perfect meditation on food and hunger and care

Dissimulo, Somnio, jeeno2 She is no one, now. But still the boy with the black hair haunts her dreams. - honestly the showrunners are cowards for not going there. let No One be Vagina Dentata Personified 2kwhenevertheBraavosiseasonsaired

post canon/canon divergent Charcoal, elephant_eyelash All about winter and feeling the cold. - weird how I'm obsessed with self-loathing and wintry alienation and the weight of history and ancestry but also devotion also love. super weird totally unexpected

Five Things Gendry Only Says in the Dark, jeeno2 Where no one else can hear him. - loneliness, shame, self-loathing. the important emotions. oh and spoiler alert some joy.

Like Wenda, Furious_Winter "...she could ride with Gendry and be an outlaw, like Wenda the White Fawn in the songs." - my favourite canon AUs are Arya and Gendry with the Brotherhood and my absolute favourites of those are when they are apart (who's ever heard of a marauding smith??) but have some of miserable bittersweet understanding and they glower at each other and make each other jealous and everything is unspoken but this is it this singular love they have for each other that doesn't quite work out. I've just realized that most of these recs are highkey angsty oops. anyway, this fic is like the most complete and perfect distillation of everything I want. - also this is so richly detailed and complete in itself. immensely satisfying. - yeah ok Furious_Winter is actually the master of post canon together but not Arya/Gendry love is not always enough fics. I'm just going to recommend all of them: - The Wolf's Head Helm [The Starks are back in Winterfell and Sansa is Queen in the North. One day, Arya receives a gift from an old friend... - Arya is in Sansas's queensguard.]  - A Means To An End (incomplete) [Arya Stark has returned from Essos and has been staying at the Inn at the Crossroads. Things are not nearly as simple as she sees them. - fuck this one hurts so good] - A Bastard At Heart [Arya and Gendry marry other people for the good of the kingdom 'cause they're self sacrificing like that. the last line took me outtt]

the truth is, baby you're all that I need, belasteals “You were jealous,” he laughed, almost shocked. “Arya Stark of Winterfell, jealous of a whore.” - sirens This One Is Not Angsty sirens

A Girl Meets a Boy, Hotpie A girl takes a face; a girl takes a lover. - possibly my favourite Crossroads Inn fic. love the Faceless Man stuff. love the detail of Needle having a smallest spot of rust, from Braavosi Steel Pox and Arya feeling a ways about it. love picking up the Melisandre thread.

So Easy To Love, Val_Creative She misses Gendry's complaining, too enthralled with staring. "You smell like Dennett's underarms," Arya murmurs, leaning in, going for blunt honesty. Gendry opens his mouth, beginning to laugh, turning uproarious and smiling. She's never seen anything more beautiful than this. More kissable than Gendry's mouth. - the summary makes it seem like it's all kissing when there is actually a big chunk of plot - in service of eventual kissing, yes, - but! spoiler alert! they don't even get to it in this fic! not exactly - maybe why I love it a lot??

With Bells in Her Hair, semicolonlife [incomplete] The further south they travel the more Gendry starts to wonder if he truly knows this woman who wears Arya Stark's face. As he begins to doubt himself more and more, Gendry becomes obsessed with the strange bells she wears in her hair. - ruthless slightly wonky Arya is my favourite Arya.

Wayfaring, Rainfallen An accidental series centered on the same basic headcanon of how Gendry found himself in the North and how Arya found her way back to it. - wolf girl Wolf Girl WOLF GIRL

Seen, sanctuary_for_all Being important matters less than who you're important to. - He wasn't sure what that verdict was, however, until she returned the unfinished sword to rest position with a deeply satisfied expression. "I am going to kill so many people with that sword." It was probably a bad sign for his long-term sanity that Gendry felt deeply complimented by that. "Happy to help." my useless heart: pikachu face - see! I like fluffy HEAs too

Hearts, sanctuary_for_all Arya comes home to her family. (Future flash) - look, I just think it's really important that even married and with children, Arya continues murdering people uwu

other AUs/misc I'll Run (Run To You), belasteals “You would rather marry a lowborn knight than a high lord, then?” She grinned, all bared teeth and sharp eyes. “I’d rather marry no one at all, else I'd not play at this mummer’s farce.” “What about the man who outruns you?” “Nobody outruns me.” (Greek mythology fusion: Arya as Atalanta, Gendry as Hippomenes. Arya vows only to marry the man who can outrun her in a footrace) - Atalanta, Mononoke, Arya. same energy.

[elsaclack]

Hi :) This might sound weird haha but I adore reading you talk about your writing, it's really inspiring and I feel like I learn a lot of things every time I read you talk about it (you know I'm a fan of your style haha). And anyways while I was reading your answer to your last anon, this struck me: "when i was outlining that chapter i think the only line i dedicated to the actual fight itself was “and then they have a crazy knife fight (good luck future me)”" and I wanted to ask you (1/2?)

(2/3?) do you have like any tips for writing a multichapters fic? I guess from what you wrote here you outline the whole thing before you start with it? Or it depends or the story and sometimes you just go with the flow and see where it goes haha? Do you mind sharing some of your writing process of multichapter fics? :3 Bc I tend to get "bored" really easily and if I don't finish something in one sitting I usually never ever finish it. But also I'd like to learn how to take my time sometimes

(3/3) and idk maybe learning how to properly "get ready" to write something long would help haha. I'm sorry if this doesn't make sense at all but yeah in any case just thank you for blessing my nights with your fics and killing me over and over with feels, I'm sure I said it before but you (and all of the amazing writers this fandom is blessed with) are a true inspiration!!!

you are SO sweet to me i die fhflkdsjf

i’m gonna go ahead and throw 100% of my answer under the cut because i haven’t even started yet and i know this is about to be. So Long. i am sorry in advance lmao

there are a couple of different aspects to this ask that i want to touch on so i will be as brief as possible but as i have proven twice over tonight alone, i am really not capable of that lmfao

i’d say first and foremost, the biggest thing you can do to help yourself in this arena is figure out how to best discipline yourself. which SUCKS it’s like the worst most mom answer ever but in all honesty, developing discipline in writing is what separates the “i could write a book” people from the people who actually do write books. everyone is capable of writing, but not everyone has the discipline or patience to do so. long-form narrative requires even MORE discipline than a one-shot (or even a long one-shot) because it’s like you said, it requires the author to come back over and over and over again to write new material and edit existing material and figure out a way to cohesively connect everything they’ve written into one consistent narrative, and some people have a much harder time with that than others do. there’s nothing wrong with that either way!! the world needs short stories just as much as it needs longer stories. but if you’re wanting to work on writing longer-form narratives, working out a way to best discipline yourself should probably be your number-one goal.

that kind of brings me to my next point (and also ties in part of what i was talking about in that other ask) - comparing your writing style, your progress, your everything to other writers will only lead to heartache for you. when i first started reading and writing for b99 i came across a specific author (who is now one of my dear friends) whose fics were just. next-level works of art. and while i read through just about everything she’d written for b99 and LOVED every single one of them, i found myself getting more and more down on my own writing, because i knew i’d never be able to write like her. but the more comfortable and confident i got in my own writing, the more i realized that it’s less about writing more like That Person and more about developing my own style (my favorite comparison to make between my writing and hers now is that hers are like beautiful and intricate fairy tales, and mine are more of a smokey back room at a bar where a guy is sitting alone at a table and he says “come here and listen to this story.” they’re both Very Different, and perhaps have varying audiences, but one is not inherently Better Or Worse than the other). all of this to say, if you’re working as hard as you can and being really disciplined but still find yourself struggling with writing a multichap, THAT’S OKAY!!! there’s NOTHING wrong with that!!! your writing, however short or long, serves an INCREDIBLY important purpose within the fandom as a whole and no matter what, there will ALWAYS be an audience for your writing.

so okay as for the actual Advice!!! i actually have a couple of steps that i usually follow prior to actually Writing the first chapter of any long fic i’ve written (or am in the process of writing...@king and lionheart yikes). i have yet to really find any consistency in how i think of ideas for multichaps - so far the idea every multichap i’ve written has come from a different source (which is actually kind of Frustrating for reasons i won’t get into). but basically once i actually have An Idea, i’ll take a day or two to kind of think it over and flesh it out as much as possible. if it really starts expanding in detail and an actual Story constructs itself around the idea, i’ll move on to the next step, which is to find a few trusted mutuals here on tungle.corn and say “heyyYYY CAN I YELL ABOUT AN IDEA I HAVE FOR A SECOND” and then spill everything i’ve thought of so far. usually i can tell if an idea will live or die based on these conversations - if the other person is Into It and we start sort of developing the world within the chat, i know it’s time to really sit down and make an effort to pursue the fic. in that case, i will go and copy&paste that part of our chat into a google doc and i’ll build an outline in a separate doc. i used to despise outlines and i would refuse to do them in high school, but once i got into writing as a hobby and i started pursuing longer narrative forms, i tried once or twice to write a multichap without an outline and i just forgot a lot of the details i originally wanted to include, which left me feeling really frustrated with myself and with my writing. i came to realize that outlines kind of a necessary evil, so in writing them i made them as fun for me as possible (i.e. the “good luck future me” line from the king and lionheart outline i mentioned lmao). now i love them and i have them open at all times while i’m working on writing a new chapter.

so i know that i started this off by saying that writing multichaps requires a special kind of discipline, and i stand by that, but also...writer’s block and real life responsibility and just plain exhaustion are all Very Real Things, and they take precedent over keeping up with a publishing schedule (if you’re so inclined to make one of those for yourself). when i started writing king and lionheart, i didn’t know at that point that i would be headed back to school in the spring, and thought that i would have all the time in the world to write. right around november, i realized that i would be going back to school - that’s about the time i took an unofficial hiatus from writing king and lionheart, because i knew trying to keep up with writing that fic the way that i want it to be written and all of the intensive and demanding coursework was going to kill me. taking a step back from posting and coming back to it later is okay. i know i talk a lot about feeling guilty for not having an update for king and lionheart (and the cancer au before it) but in all honesty i know that it’s okay for me to take some time and deal with my real life. and, you know, it’s also okay to lose inspiration for a while and to take a step back until that inspiration comes back. i think it’s that fear of not being able to take longer breaks between updates that scares a lot of people off from even trying to write a multichap - as the queen of procrastination, i am here to tell you that it is 100% okay to start a multichap and to take a break and come back to it when necessary!

writing a multichap is very much like running a marathon - it requires a different kind of energy than a 400 meter sprint or a 1k fluffy oneshot. it’s gonna hurt and it’s gonna suck and there are gonna be times when you’re ready to just quit writing altogether. but there will be parts that are really fun and really easy and you’re gonna get some really great views along the way - and at the end when you cross that finish line and you’re able to check that “complete” box on ao3 before you post the last chapter, you won’t remember the parts that sucked. trust me!! i wouldn’t write as many as i do if the actual shitty parts of the writing process negated the good things that come from writing it and sharing it with other people!

it’s also worth noting that just because you get bored with an idea doesn’t mean that you can’t pick it up again later!!! honestly the first 2 or 3 paragraphs of on your heart like a tattoo sat in my google docs for MONTHS before i randomly decided one day to open it and take a crack at finishing it, and to this DAY i’m still getting people regularly commenting on it. every idea has its purpose and its place, even if it doesn’t always immediately seem like it.

i really hope this helps and i’m sorry if it doesn’t!!! you are such a kind and wonderful person and i absolutely adore you

[hissesssss]

Snow Day

Summary: Logan, unexpectedly, has a good time. 

Warnings: Fights, Sympathetic Deceit(kind of I guess)

Word Count: 1546

A/N: So, last fic of the year! I hope you all had a wonderful 2018 and will have an even more marvelous 2019. I must admit, this year was tough but thanks to a lot of friends and support, I survived. One friend especially, I must say, has been a very important part of my year. @snakeboicouldbegayer S, remember that conversation we had on Discord? Uhhh yeah, this is why. New Year’s gift!(sorry for being so vague about that lol) I can’t just get a gift from you without me giving you one. So have some older brother Logan and younger brother Virgil having some down time from their stressful lives. I love you so much and wish you nothing but luck and joy in the coming year. Thank you, truly, S. (p.s. if you are gay for logan had really like dragons and your name is s, you might want to read the tags first)

AO3 Version right here

“I know you want to,”said Dee, tilting his head towards the older sibling.

“What I want is of no one’s concern. Now please, let my brother and I leave. Our matters are much less trivial than imaginary playtime,” Logan spat. He had had enough of this.

“Lo, you seem a bit wound up. Wouldn’t chilling out a bit be beneficial? Remember what Patton said?” As if to resemble their happy, pappy, brother figure, Virgil straightened his sweater and stared Logan down with a large dopey smile: “All work and no play makes Logan a sad boy!” Logan had never seen anything so ridiculous come from Virgil.

“I have never seen anything so ridiculous come from your mouth, Virgil. I request you to refrain from imitating your friend in hopes of keeping the universe balanced,” Logan said.

A brilliant idea formed in Virgil’s mind. “I will...if you let us hang out with Dee”

Logan sighed and stared pointedly at the sky, hoping for some sort of escape from the two young boys in front of him. He really didn’t have a choice did he?

“....Fine. But if you happen to get hypothermia, you will be making your own soup.”

Virgil pumped his hand into the air before running to Dee’s backyard. “Thanks Lo!”

In all honesty, Logan had never seen him this ecstatic. Even on his good days, Virgil preferred an introvert’s lifestyle, huddled up in his room, watching videos until the crack of dawn, and diverting attention from him any chance he could get. However, it seemed that the mystery that was Dee and his mind(and backyard) entranced him more than his bed.

Logan shivered and burrowed further into his jacket beforing trudging through mounds of snow(the snow plows barely ever came through their area) to get to Dee’s backyard. Off in the corner of the wide space, he could see Virgil following Dee up a makeshift ladder, into a surprisingly well made treehouse. Even so, his brotherly instincts kicked when he heard the odd creaks and groans the treehouse gave when the two stepped in.

“Please be careful while you are up there!” Logan did not need another scolding on the same day.

“Oh don’t worry, Logan. Your brother is in safe hands,” shouted Dee. Logan was not convinced of course. If it hadn’t been for his lack of height, Logan would have been thoroughly intimidated by the young boy’s strange nature.

“Yeah, Logan! Don’t worry about a thing!”

“That is incredibly rich coming from you.”

“Oh, shut up,”shouted Virgil, sticking his tongue out at his brother. Of course, he was fully aware that he would be fine. He knew that whatever situation he could get into, Logan would always be there to catch him if he “fell”.

“Aren’t you gonna come up?”

“No thank you. I would much rather stand down here instead of accidentally fainting and plummeting to my death,” Logan deadpanned.

Virgil rolled his eyes before Dee spoke up. “That made so much sense, Logan,” he shouted, “I definitely appreciate your honesty but-”

“But don’t we have more important matters to discuss? Like what are we doing up here in a treehouse?” interjected Virgil. The frigid weather sent a cold breeze through the treehouse, reminding them both of where they were.

“Oh yes, of course. Virgil, what do you think about dragons?” asked Dee.

Logan was thoroughly confused. What did dragons have to do with 30° weather have to do with fire breathing, winged creatures?

“Uhh, they’re ok? I don’t know, I haven’t given them much thought,” said Virgil.

“Well, not to alarm you or anything but,” Dee lowered his voice and whispered, “but I think there might be one behind you.”

Virgil once again rolled his eyes but still complied to Dee’s little trick. “Oh really? I guess I’ll just have to turn around and see,” he said before turning around. Nothing but the wall of the treehouse faced him. Before he could tell Dee off for his antics, something was shoved in his face.

“There it is, Virgil! You must defeat it before it wreaks havoc on our home!” Dee cried.

For at least the third time that day, Virgil rolled his eyes, realizing that accepting Dee’s invite may not have been the best idea. “Oh no,” said Virgil in his usual monotone voice, “whatever will I do. Logan, could you please help me and Prince Dumbass over here defeat the evil plushie before it destroys our beautiful home?”

“Virgil...I would rather let an actual dragon assault me before helping either of you,” Logan replied with the same dry snark.

“Well aren’t you too just full of happiness and sunshine,” said Dee, clearly annoyed at the two brothers. Not to worry though, he could save the day yet!(he was clearly spending way too much time with Roman)

Dee grabbed Virgil’s shoulder and turned him around, telling him quietly, “Ok so, I have a stash of snowballs over there in the corner. How about we help Logan loosen up a little,” Dee said, smirking evilly.

Virgil was...not opposed to the suggestion. He had noticed how tense Logan had gotten over the past few weeks. What with taking care of himself, Virgil, and their entire house, Logan had had little to no rest. Maybe a snowball fight could help him let off some steam.

Virgil gave the same smirk. “Let’s do it.”

While each of them grabbed a handful of snowballs, Logan had noticed that it had gotten unnaturally quiet in the treehouse. Maybe they had decided to settle down for a few moments. If so, then he might as join them. He had begun to climb up the ladder but had stopped abruptly when he heard Virgil’s voice.

“Attack!”

And there he was, being pelted by almost a dozen snowballs before landing on his butt. He heard laughter coming from within the treehouse. And as much as he cherished the moments when Virgil would laugh, he was not amused at the reason for Virgil’s amusement. They were not getting away with that. He slowly got up and grabbed a handful of snow, shaping it into a compact ball, aiming at the window of the treehouse (hopefully physics could save him now) and shot.

Judging from the shrieks and laughter coming from within the structure, he could tell that he had hit one of them. “One point for me!” Logan had shouted before forming more snowballs, fully aware that they most likely had more snowballs formed in Dee’s treehouse.

“How do you aim so well?” Virgil asked, wiping snow out of his hair.

“Physics, dear brother of mine,” Logan shouted before throwing another snowball up.

“I didn’t realize he would attack back, Virgil. I’m impressed,” said Dee before throwing a snowball straight at Logan’s face.

“Yeah well, he has a lot of hidden talents. But, uhhh, you better watch out!” Virgil warned. Dee saw Logan getting ready to throw another ball before shouting and ducking under the window. He missed.

And so, the battle continued. Virgil and Dee continued to pelt snowballs down on Logan who replied with the same amount of enthusiasm. Logan hadn’t enjoyed an afternoon  By the end, they were all covered in snow, hands practically numb, and noses running faster than any marathon runner. But all battles eventually end. They called a truce, knowing that if they continued, at least one of them would most likely catch an extremely terrible cold(something that none of them had the time for).

Logan was nearly breathless because of the fight. He weakly shouted up at the younger boys, “I believe it is time for you two to come down now. I am completely numb and in need of some warmth.”

“Fine, just let us catch our breath first,” yelled out Virgil who had laid down on the cold floor of the treehouse next to Dee. It took five more minutes of Logan’s nagging and the cold weather for them to finally manage to climb down the ladder.

Even if Logan appeared to be annoyed at their lateness, Virgil could tell that Logan was feeling much better. His expression was much more laidback relative the morning and he was occasionally bouncing on his toes(even if it was slightly). He knew Logan would enjoy the fight.

Logan gave Dee a slight smile, “I know I was hesitant at first but...thank you for inviting us.”

Dee gave him a shocked glance, Oh yeah, uhh, no problem. You two honestly just looked like such losers standing there in the snow by yourse-”

“Nevermind, I completely take it back.”

“I’m kidding, I’m kidding,” Dee chuckled, “But yeah, no problem. Come back but don’t forget Virgil. I like him better.”

Virgil snorted before smacking Dee’s head lightly. “Yeah sure, see you again Dee. Maybe you could come by our place sometime.” Virgil stared at Logan for his approval, who rolled his eyes and slightly nodded. Virgil quickly whispered a ‘yes’ before walking down the street and giving off a salute to Dee.

Logan nodded at Dee’s direction. Dee gave his own nod. “Come back soon.”

“We will definitely try.” Logan walked off in Virgil’s direction.

Maybe letting go every once in a while wasn’t so bad.

[jennycalendar]

imperfections (48/?)

read it on ao3!

JUST hit 100k words on this fic (not all of it is posted bc i’m two chapters ahead but! um! still wow!)

Everyone drove out to the Christmas tree lot, but it ended up only being Faith and Jen who went up against the Bringers. Willow, Xander, Cordelia, and Oz were all dozy and comfortable in the backseat, and Giles wanted to stay behind and take care of the sleepy kids, but Jen—well. Jen started up a whispery argument with Giles as to whether or not she was okay enough to fight things, won when she pointed out that “beating up the guys who got Angel to hurt me will really make me feel better,” accepted a hug from Giles, and clambered out of the car to help Faith unload weapons from the trunk.

“I can handle this by myself, you know,” said Faith, thinking of how less than twelve hours ago, Jen had been pale and shaking and holding onto Giles like a lifeline. “You really could do with a break from this shit, after the day you’ve had.”

Jen picked up a crossbow, testing the weight, then put it down with a grimace. She turned to Faith. “Being your kinda-Watcher is a full-time job,” she began lightly.

“Jen, I’ve had a Watcher,” said Faith. “Nine times out of ten they end up dead. That’s not who I want you to be.” She hesitated. Christmas was the time for sappy shit, right? “Do you remember—when Ms. Post said that she thought you wanted to be my mom?”

Jen blinked, looking a little bemused. “I mean, yeah,” she began.

“Well, she,” Faith cleared her throat, turning a dull red, “got it backwards.”

Jen stared at her for a moment. A small smile crept across her face. “Oh,” she said. “I mean…oh.”

“Yeah,” said Faith, and shrugged, looking steadily up at Jen. She didn’t feel like tackling Jen in a Lifetime-movie hug or anything, but she also didn’t feel like stabbing someone, which by her normal standards was actually pretty good. Trusting someone made honesty one hell of a lot less painful. “My Watcher fought vamps with me, but you’re not…I don’t want you to be my Watcher. Watchers kinda suck.”

Jen considered this. Then she said, “C’mere,” and stepped forward, pulling Faith into a hug. It was the first time they’d actually hugged under circumstances that weren’t super emotional or life-and-death, and it was…nice. It was really nice. Faith couldn’t think of a time someone had just hugged her out of the blue. Granted, some of that might have been because Faith would have stabbed them, but still. “You’re a really good kid,” said Jen, her voice all wobbly. “And I worry about you a lot.”

“That’s annoying—”

“Clearly,” said Jen, pulling back a little to give Faith a reproving look, “you just want all the huggy parts of having a—” She stopped. “Not-Watcher,” she finished, her expression softening.

“Yeah, whatever,” said Faith, grinning a little. “Not-Watcher.”

Giles honked the horn.

“ALL RIGHT, RUPERT, KEEP YOUR PANTS ON,” Jen shouted as loudly as humanly possible. Faith thought she saw Giles cringe, and did her best to hide a laugh as Jen pulled away from Faith to grab a weapon at random. “We all set?”

“Fuck yeah,” said Faith. She was really looking forward to fucking up the guys that had hurt Jen.

Most of the trees seemed to be doing pretty okay, but then they reached six in the middle that surrounded a dry, open patch of earth. Without hesitating, Faith raised the axe she’d grabbed and whacked the ground as hard as she could, watching with satisfaction as it crumbled…creating a hole that opened up beneath their feet.

Whoops.

Faith barely managed to grab onto Jen before they were both tumbling down through the hole and into a dimly-lit cave. She managed to take most of the impact, which left her with a lingering soreness but no serious injuries, and pulled them both to their feet. “You okay?” she asked.

“Next time?” said Jen. “Bring a shovel.”

Not too far away, Faith could make out the sounds of chanting. Briefly, and without turning, she squeezed Jen’s hand. “Thanks,” she said quietly.

“Always,” said Jen, and squeezed her hand back, then let go, waiting.

Taking the hint, and raising her axe, Faith began to head in the direction of the chanting, doing her best to also keep track of Jen behind her in case they got jumped or something. It didn’t take them too long to reach a table in the middle of a big, creepy cavern, encircled by three creepy, eyeless priest guys.

“This is where I quip, right?” inquired Faith, and lunged for the first priest. Behind her, she heard what sounded like Jen whacking the second priest in the face with a sword, then stabbing him. The third priest, who seemed a little bit smarter than his friends, ran for the hills. Good call. Faith had just finished up with the first priest, and she was now bringing her axe down hard on whatever the priests had been standing and chanting around.

“Entirely unbecoming, Janna,” said a voice.

Faith looked up. Some old dude was standing in the middle of the cavern. She frowned, raising the axe, but then heard a strangled noise from behind her—almost a sob. “Uncle,” said Jen.

“The vampire tries to kill you, and you continue to aid him?” said the guy. “You are a disgrace.”

“I’m not—” Jen drew her arms against her chest, shaking. The broadsword clattered to the ground.

“You are,” said the guy. “The family is in disarray, our legacy and our calling in shatters, and you turn your back on those you claim to love to devote yourself to the service of a vampire?”

“I’m not,” Jen whispered. “I’m not, I’m not, you didn’t want me, you said—you said that carrying out everyone else’s vengeance was all I would ever be good for, I just wanted to be kind—”

Faith looked at Jen, thought about all the talk of creepy guilting visions, and threw her axe as hard as she could. The guy shimmered and shifted as the axe passed right through him, and suddenly—fuck. Suddenly it was the Prof. It was the Prof, and Faith’s axe was on the other side of the cavern. “Really, Faith,” said the Prof, looking over her shoulder at the axe, “I taught you better than to fight impulsively.”

“You’re not my dead Watcher, and you’re not going to fuck with me,” said Faith sharply. “You can’t touch me. How fuckin’ weak is that, relying on other people’s guilt to get them killed?”

“Clever girl,” said the First. “Stronger than all the rest.”

Faith looked over her shoulder at Jen, and something furious rose in her chest, because Jen was crying. Not in the quiet, clumsy way Faith had seen on rare occasions, but full-out messy sobs that had her doubled over as she shook. “I’m gonna kill you,” she told the First.

The First rolled its eyes. “You think you can fight me?” it scoffed. “I'm not a demon, little girl. I am something that you can't even conceive. The First—”

“Evil, yeah, whatever,” said Faith sharply. “Everything I fight is evil. I can kill you.”

The First looked almost amused. “Angel will be dead by sunrise,” it said.

Behind Faith, Jen stopped crying. “What?” she whispered.

“His attempt to kill you wasn’t planned,” the First said mildly to Jen, “but it certainly helped with the guilt. Tragically, he can’t live with himself as a monster.” It shrugged. “Better for us, I guess,” it said. “We can’t live with him as a man.”

Faith picked up the broadsword and thrust it at the First.

All of a sudden, she was surrounded by a black, smoky cloud, one with too many eyes and sharp teeth and claws that might have scratched if they’d been substantial. “DEAD BY SUNRISE,” a voice rasped through the cavern, and then Faith was standing alone, shaking.

Someone stepped up next to her. As Faith’s knees gave way, she felt her cheek fall against Jen’s shoulder. “I’ve got you, Faith,” Jen whispered. “I’ve got you. It’s okay.”

Jenny tucked Faith back into the front seat, then kissed Rupert very hard. “I have to go find Angel,” she said. “He’s in danger.”

“Jenny, that is not—”

“There is no one else who can do it, Rupert,” said Jenny as steadily as she could. She kept on thinking about her uncle as a ghostly apparition—you are a disgrace, you turn your back on those you claim to love—and reminded herself that that sure as hell would never be what she was. “You know it has to be me.”

Rupert looked around at the children, all of them asleep in the car. Then he unbuckled his seatbelt, clambered out of the driver’s seat, and grabbed Jenny’s waist, pulling her flush against him as he kissed her. It was the same kind of desperate kiss they’d shared the night before, right down to the intensity of his gaze when he pulled back. “If he kills you,” he said, “I will kill him. I will go to him and I will rip him apart, piece by fucking piece. You must understand that, Jenny.”

“Yeah,” said Jenny. But there was a strange, burning conviction in her chest: she would not let Angel die again. The strength of her belief was enough to make her certain that she would come back to Rupert in the morning. “I love you,” she whispered, and wanted to say other, stupider things, but there would be time for that after sunrise. “Drive me to the mansion?”

He wasn’t in the mansion. It took Jenny a few panicked seconds to figure out where he might be, and then it clicked. Walking slowly—there were a few hours left till sunrise, after all—she made her way through the mansion, into the bushes out back, and climbed up the hill to find Angel. He was looking out at a peaceful, well-lit section of town, and didn’t turn as she made her way towards him.

“Angel,” said Jenny.

Angel turned, shocked. “Ms. Calendar,” he said finally. “You shouldn’t be here.”

“Yeah, that’s what pretty much everyone keeps saying to me,” said Jenny simply. “Mind if I sit with you?”

“I hurt you,” said Angel. “I could have killed you. What are you doing here?”

Jenny opened her mouth to answer, then shut it. “I don’t know,” she said finally. “I honestly don’t know. I don’t know you, Angel. I know you from horror stories that my uncle used to tell me, and I know you from how much Buffy loves you, and I know you from the fact that you saved my life a year ago. But none of that really means I know you.”

“The sun’s coming up soon,” said Angel. “I don’t think you should be here for this.”

“The sun isn’t coming up for three more hours, drama queen,” said Jenny, mouth twitching. “I think that gives us more than enough time to talk about this incredibly stupid decision you’re making.”

“If you don’t know me, then you can’t understand that this is the right decision for me to make,” said Angel with sharp conviction. “I hurt you today. I’ve hurt you before. I’ve tasted your blood, and you think that the world should still have me in it?” He turned all the way now, looking at her with contempt. “You’re an idiot,” he said.

Something snapped inside her. “You don’t get to say that to me,” Jenny said furiously. “You don’t ever—look at me, you asshole, you don’t ever get to tell me that I am an idiot. I let you torture me for hours in front of the first person I ever let myself love, and I spent the whole fucking summer trying to deal with that, and I come up here forgiving you because I care and you tell me that I’m an idiot? It’s not an idiotic thing to do, Angel, to forgive people. People aren’t perfect. People aren’t supposed to be. People make stupid mistakes that they can’t undo, that happens, but what’s really going to count is what you do to make sure you never, ever make that mistake again.”

“I don’t have that certainty,” Angel burst out. “I never get to have that certainty. As long as I’m alive, Angelus runs the risk of getting out, and after what you did to get me back, you’re the very first one he’ll go after. The things he wanted to do to you—” He shuddered, almost involuntarily, but he was still visibly furious. “This isn’t a choice you get to talk me out of,” he said. “I saw the way you looked at me after I thought you were the First. You know I’m right.”

“Angel, the First showed up to me as my uncle and told me I was a disgrace to the family name,” said Jenny, exasperated. “If everyone who got guilted by that thing killed themselves, Sunnydale would probably be toast. Look, can you just…hear me out?” A lingering spark of anger prompted her to add, “I feel like I’m owed at least that much from you.”

Guilt flickered in Angel’s eyes. He nodded.

Jenny nodded too. “Okay,” she said, stepping up to him. “I…I have spent the last six months blaming myself unceasingly for all the stuff that happened to you. You losing your soul, you getting sent to hell, Rupert having to watch me get tortured, Buffy having to kill you—it always, always felt like there was something I could have done to save you.”

“It wasn’t your fault,” said Angel immediately, almost reflexively. Jenny fixed him with a look. He coughed, abashed, and waited.

“What I’m getting at,” said Jenny, a lump in her throat, “is that I never got to know you. Not well enough for me to feel this much guilt, at least. There was all this time I spent working out my feelings towards you, time that I could have used on helping people who were there and not dead…” She trailed off. “You’ve been given an incredible opportunity to do good,” she said, and meant the words for both of them. “Spending all your time beating yourself up for the things you’ve done wrong is a waste of that gift.”

“If you haven’t forgotten,” said Angel derisively, “that ritual your family pulled off was a curse, not a gift.”

“My family didn’t give you your soul this time around,” said Jenny quietly. “I did. Willow did. Because you meant something to us. We could have let Buffy kill you and sent you to hell, but we didn’t, because Buffy loved you and Willow loves Buffy.”

“And you?”

“I saved your life because you saved mine,” said Jenny, smiling a little.

“I almost killed you—”

“Eyghon,” said Jenny. The terror and trauma of that long-ago incident seemed strange and distant. “I would have been a puddle of blue goo if you hadn’t strangled that demon out of me. I never forgot that, Angel.” She smiled, not quite sadly. “I don’t think I ever will.”

Something in Angel’s expression had changed. “I didn’t ever think of it like that,” he said. “I just thought, back then—if I could help—I want to help people, Ms. Calendar. More than anything.”

“There you go,” said Jenny softly, and stood on tiptoe, squeezing his shoulder. “Look, it’s your choice, in the end. But there are people here who need you, Angel, people you might not even realize you’ve helped.”

“I’m not a good man,” said Angel, eyes darting down to Jenny’s hand on his shoulder like he wasn’t quite sure why it was there, or if it should be.

“It’s not about good and bad,” Jenny persisted. “Okay? It’s about the mistakes you’ve made and what you’re doing to make sure they don’t happen again. There’s no person who’s inherently good, Angel, and no person who will ever be anything but bad. People come in shades of gray.”

“I’m not a strong man,” Angel amended.

“Then find yourself a damn good reason to be,” said Jenny. “The world wouldn’t be better without you, Angel, it’s better with you. You could bring a lot to it if you got over your whole self-flagellation kick.” She let her hand drop, looking up at him. “Final verdict?”

Angel let out a quiet, shaking breath. “I don’t know,” he said. It was almost a sob. “I don’t know what to do.”

“Okay,” said Jenny. “So let’s go inside.”

There was a long, still moment, and then Angel nodded.

[lucifers-trash-stash]

Taking Drabble Requests for Nanowrimo

Recently I’ve been unhappy with my progress on my writing and I’ve found that I’ve been stuck in a rut with my WIPS. I was kind of hoping that I would use this year’s Nano as a way to get a start on my novel but considering that I barely have a plot outline and the writer’s block is making it painful to even try to get words out sometimes for fear that they won’t be good, I’ve decided that I need to take the time to get back into a regular writing pattern. And in order to do that, I’m going to take some prompts.

I will provide a detailed list of examples of fandoms, some prompt lists you can use, and the general goal of this exercise below the cut <3

As of today, requests are open! Feel free to send me your request in an ask!

Now, I’m going to have a few rules about what I will be taking requests for and what I won’t be. In all honesty, I am throwing the doors wide open on the fandoms you can request for because the goal of this exercise is for me to write for characters and situations that I don’t normally have the chance to write about so I can improve as an author.

These drabbles will be around 1,000 words in length. Some will be more and some will be less depending on where I feel the story takes me. Just know that I probably won’t be making 2,000+ word epics out of these, as I’m trying to use these prompts to get back into the swing of writing.

If I get too many requests at once, then I might close requests for the time being until I can finish up writing the ones I have. Since I’m aiming for short prompts, I hope to be able to keep up with the requests but I also know that some days I might have a harder time being motivated than others and I might skip a day here or there.

Things I won’t write:

Characters I frequently write for. I’m going to say that this time around I’m not taking any The Walking Dead requests or Thanos requests. I’m not doing TWD requests because I’ve written so much TWD in the past that I want to do something different. I’m saying no to Thanos requests mostly because the only Thanos content I’m going to be focusing on, for the most part, is my Run From Me fic.

Underage/incest/pedophilia stuff

Non con. I will be able to write con noncon and dub con but be aware that I sometimes have a hard time going too dark depending on the situation.

Things I will write:

This list becomes a bit trickier to compile as I want to be open to different fandoms I don’t normally write for and maybe characters I love that don’t get many fanfictions written for them. Because of this, you are welcome to ask me directly if there are characters or films I would want to write for that might not be on this list. A lot of what I will take depends on if I’ve seen the show/movie that you’re requesting for, as I feel uncomfortable writing for characters I might not know as well. There are also some characters I might not be up to writing smut for so I ask if you can be understanding if I decline a request based on that.

I am always open for fics that aren’t smutty as well so if you want fluff or angst or anything else I can do that as well. Also unless you specify a specific tense I might choose between first person (I, me), and second person (you) just to switch it up a bit.

The characters I put into parenthesis are ones I will definitely write for but if there are characters that I don’t list that you would like me to write for feel free to ask and I will get back to you.

Marvel Characters:

The Black Order (Maw, Proxima, Corvus, and Cull)

Guardians of the Galaxy (Yondu, Nebula)

Deadpool (Wade, Colossus, Cable)

Venom

Horror Movie Characters:

Freddy Krueger, Jason Voorhees, Michael Myers, Hellraiser (Cenobites), Ash Williams (Evil Dead), The Lost Boys (David), Beetlejuice.

There’s a lot more that I’m probably forgetting so please feel free to ask me about horror characters because odds are if you’ve seen me reblog/post about a horror movie then I will probably be willing to write for it. Also I’m a monster fucker so I am down for most anything. Realize that for most of these horror characters, the stories will skew a bit darker content-wise.

Anime:

My Hero Academia (Toshinori, Aizawa, Endeavor, Tomura, Dabi)

Dragon Ball Z (Cell, Frieza)

Bleach (Kenpachi, Mayuri)

Naruto (Akatsuki characters)

Other:

Labyrinth (Jareth)

Harry Potter (Fenrir Greyback, Lucius Malfoy, Bellatrix Lestrange, Severus Snape)

Slither (Grant Grant)

Hellboy (Hellboy, obviously lol)

Prompt Lists:

You are not required to come up with a prompt when requesting a drabble for a character but I figured I would provide them for those who would like some ideas in coming up with a request. I will ask if possible that if you want something specific in your request that you tell me or else I will just run wild and do my own thing lol

Domestic Fluff Prompts

Soft Domming Prompts

Smut Prompts

Angst/Fluff Prompts

Dialogue Prompts

I might add more to this post if I find any good ones but I think this is a good list for now.

Tagging:

I am happy to tag people in the stories I post, but in order to make things a bit easier on me I will make one taglist for this series of drabbles. So I apologize in advance if you might get tagged for characters you don’t like, but it will be easier for me to make one taglist for the whole series and a masterlist at the end than to try to remember what fandoms people want to be tagged for.

[kdfrqqg]

Author Honesty Hour

I was tagged by @queen-of-deans-booty why am I doing this instead of actually writing?  I’m not sure but this was fun.  Thanks Jordan!

1. Which is the imagine you’re most proud of?

I love Hot Air Balloons!  It’s one of my favorite mainly because it’s deeply personal and what happened to the reader really did happen but not with the same outcome.  I have always been hopeful though.

2. Which is your least favorite?

I guess if I had to choose it would be  Happy Birthday Sammy!  It is a little silly story but I still liked.

3. If you were to recommend one to read to your mom?

Probably  A Very Deonna Thanksgiving; she loves to read romance novels and this would probably have the same feel for her but I think she could handle a lot of my more smutty fics.

4. Which one would you consider re-writing?

My first works were some Destiel fics and I wouldn’t mind re-writing them.  I have gone back and edited them a number of times so that is kinda like I rewrote them.

5. Biggest regret in an imagine?

When I get bored or I think a fic is too long, I will rush through it and not put everything I really wanted in the fic.  I.E. Kindred Hunters I should have made it into two fics and got down to the real smut.

6. Biggest success with an imagine?

My plus-size reader fics are always popular.  Many of my readers understand what it’s like to be a big girl.  What Happened Last Night?  Got like 100 notes in less than a few days and I was like whoa.

7. Your imagine with the most notes?

Put a ring on it! Sam x Plus size reader; people liked it so much that I had a lot of requests to write another one which I did.  I may even write another one down the line.

8. Your imagine with the least notes

Kindred Hunters  Donna x Female Reader; honestly I understand it isn’t for everyone but I loved it, because Donna is so sexy.

9. What do you think makes a good imagine? Tips?

Descriptions of the scene, you need to paint a picture.  What are they touching, smelling, eating?  Emotions. Don’t just say, ‘He was angry.’ instead say ‘He pounded his fist on the table as he yelled at her’.  

Use words other than said.  So big!!  Bigger than people think.  I will only use the work said like once maybe twice in a whole fic.

Really get into the characters head.  Don’t just have them react the way you would. They are not you; they are someone totally different with different experiences and memories, and they should be treated as such.  Many of the readers I write for are nothing like me but I can understand their emotions.

10. When’s the next update on your works?

I’ve got like 4 or 5 WIPS, I’m working on.  I’m hoping to have another fic up this week but who knows.

11. Number of followers before you started writing and after?

Probably like 20 followers before I started to write and now after about 100 fics written I have almost 900 followers.

THE WRITER

1. Which character do you love writing for?

I love to write Crowley.  He can either be an super adorable or pure evil or both.  He’s fun to write for and my Crowley girls give me the best feedback.

2. Which character do you dislike writing for?

That’s hard.  Cause if I didn’t like them then I wouldn’t write for them.

3. What’s your favorite AU to write for?

I like office AUs mainly because most of my work experience is in offices so I feel like I can write them fairly well.

4. What’s your least favorite AU to write for?

I honestly have only ever written office AUs so I don’t have a least favorite

5. What do you hope never gets requested?

RPF -- I’m strictly against writing them.  It is part of my request rules.  I don’t read them that often either. 

6. What do you wish was requested more?

My requests are all over the place.  I like requests for continuation fics because it would kick my ass to write them.

7. Thoughts on writing Smut/POC/Curvy/MxM/FxF?

I love to write smut.  I love sex so writing about sex is fun.  It is really hard because you don’t want to use the same phrase over and over again.  Also I like to take risks with my smut and get super kinky because I will probably never do this in real life.

Well first off I’m not a POC, I am a blonde white girl from the suburbs and I have dated men of color before but that still doesn’t make me feel comfortable writing for a POC.  I’m not sure if I can put myself in their shoes enough to do them proper justice.  On another note: When I write for a reader I normally do not put a lot of description on the reader’s features so that hopefully everyone can enjoy reading them.  I have even gone back and edited old fics where I said, ‘Her pale skin’ to some other descriptor.  I’m all about allowing everyone to enjoy my work.

Curvy or Plus size fics are my favorite to write for.  As a plus size woman myself, it is very easy to put myself in the image. I know I have to same issues that a lot of women deal with and we all relate and can bond over it.

MxM/FxF: I’m all for it.  I love me some Dean x Cas, or Jody x Donna.  I have written some Destiel and FxF fics myself.  I’m all about love is love. So yeah no issues here.

8. Which account is your biggest inspiration in writing?

@webcricket @impala-dreamer @queen-of-deans-booty 

Are seriously some of my favorites, I often times will read how they wrote something and say maybe I should do something more like that. 

9. How long have you been an imagine writer for?

One year but I’ve been doing it in my head since I was a kid.  Why I didn’t think to write my stories down earlier I don’t know.  

10. Any upcoming secret works?

I have so many ideas but no real secrets. I have two requests I’m working on and a challenge submission and two personal projects. I guess I’ll get this stuff done soon.

Please don’t feel obligated to do these but I would be cool to hear from you.

Tagging:

@notnaturalanahi @roxy-davenport @roxy-davenport @impaladreamers-mainfrigginblog @greenappleeyes @webcricket @anotherwaywardsister @imaginesforthose-wholovefandoms @dreaminofdean

[mrs-dragneel-stark-solo]

Unforseen Chasm (Part43)

Part 43 of Unforseen Chasm

Prompt: Two sisters fall for men that are absolute enemies. The love they have could tear all of them apart, or it could bring them together. Word Count: 3370 Warnings: Language,  mentions of the past, mentions of the winter soldier triggered ofc song for this part: Note: This is by far the longest thing I’ve ever written (including my other fic series). first major Collab with my best friend @thorne93​​ what was first a simple “what if” moment turned into a two year writing session and I’ve never been more prouder of myself than when i started my first series. goes through most of the MCU plots there are some changes to accommodate for what we wanted and there is a bit of a crossover between the MCU and other characters. I hope you guys enjoy reading this just as much as I enjoyed writing it.

Once all the paperwork was filled out and signed, you were given the green light to head over to Nebraska. You set out packing your things and going out to get some stuff you knew you’d need since what you had wouldn’t keep you warm on those cold nights. About half an hour later Shannon got to the apartment and since she still had her key to it, she unlocked the door and headed in.

“Y/N! I was thinking we could hang out tonight and watch some movies before you leave,” she called out while she took her coat off but what she didn’t know was that the only person in the apartment was Loki and he’d been in the bedroom looking over pictures of you when you were in college.

Upon hearing someone in the apartment Loki walked out of the room with a dagger in one hand while the other opened the door.

“Who’s there?” Loki asked, his voice hesitant, yet confident. He put the tip of the knife between his skilled fingertips, readying it to fling it at the intruder. However, he just rounded the corner from the short hallway in time to see who it was. “Ah… It’s you.” Lowering the weapon, he quickly hid the dagger behind an illusion, and Shannon could no longer see that he was armed -- but she was sure that he was. In fact, she was entirely sure he was armed to the teeth, but he kept that all a mystery for her, and any other potential enemy.

She turned around when she heard the familiar male voice, her shoulders tensed seeing as he’d put away the knife but tried to play it off as if she hadn’t. “Hello, Loki, sorry for barging in, I had come over to… well you must had already heard what I yelled out. Is Y/N not here?” Shannon moved from one foot to the other.

“Does it look like she’s here?” he asked, his eyebrows raised as he gestured around the room sarcastically. When he saw her face morph into irritation, he backed off. He took a deep breath, and in a softer voice said, “No, she isn’t. She’s out getting supplies for her trip.”

Returning the sarcasm she replied, “Well it’s not like I can see through walls, if I could I wouldn’t have come up here.” Seeing the smidge of fear take over his features, she calmed down. “It’s alright. I probably should have texted her first.” She sat down in the one chair that you had kept that was her’s. “You didn’t want to go with her?” she asked, wondering why he was alone in the apartment.

“I promised to stay behind and clean the apartment for her. One less thing to worry about while she gets ready. Turns out cleaning actually turns into walking down memory lane…” He smirked, even laughing lightly. “Well, walking down her memory lane, that is. I came across her college photo album and got distracted.”

Shannon relaxed a bit, then she realized what he had said. “That photo album wouldn’t happen to be a fat blue one with white letters on the front would it?” She cringed hoping it wasn’t that one at all. She remembered all the silly photos the two of you had taken thinking no one but you two would ever see them.

He frowned slightly. “Actually, yes. You know it?”

“Ummm… yes actually, that’s the one album I thought we’d gotten rid of,” she said sounding a bit nervous. He didn’t know of her training from before her powers and many of the pictures she had saved in there were of her time in the Red Room. “You’ve probably gone through most of it, haven’t you?” she asked, wringing her fingers together.

He bobbed his head side to side. “For the most part, yes. Why? Is something the matter with it? It looks like you two had a lot of fun back then.”

“Well.. it’s not that there’s something the matter with it, it’s just that there are some pictures that Y/N had made me keep from.. From a period in my life before I became best friends with her that I would rather keep between me and her.” Shannon really hoped that she would be able to steer him away from learning the gruesome truth of who she really is or was in the past. “I guess it won’t really matter once you get to the back of the album,” she said, sinking further into the chair. 

Loki took a tentative step toward her, eyeing her curiously. “Is there something you don’t want me to see?” He was about to give her a second to respond, but then he decided to add something to his question. “Because if there is, you can tell me and I’ll respect your wishes.” 

Looking up at him, she never really got to know who he was as a person, which was something she had never really considered wanting to do. But seeing as he would eventually find out about her past, it might be time to know more about him. “There is in fact something that I would rather you not look at but I believe that it would help create a bridge of understanding between us as people who are a big part of Y/N’s life,” she told him with as much sincerity as she could muster at that moment. “If you don’t mind, would you bring the album over here? I’d think it’d be best to explain while showing you what I mean.” 

He peered at her, intrigued by what she said, so he obliged. He swept out of the room, back to his bedroom, and retrieved the album. He handed it to her, gesturing for her to go on and explain what was going on. 

Flipping the album open, she thumbed the pages until she found exactly what she was looking for. It’d been years since she had seen them. She pulled out most of them and put them in the correct order they belonged in. “These right here are photos of the past life I once lived years before meeting Y/N. The things I was taught and I had done has made me the woman I am today, or as Y/N/N liked to call me ‘femme fatale’.” She passed a few of the photos to him and let him take his time looking through them knowing he’d have questions.

His brow furrowed as he looked at the pictures of her. She was in all black attire -- a black t-shirt, black tactical pants, and black boots. In none of the photos was she smiling. Every photo she wore the same stoic face, which chilled him to the bone. “Was this some form of military school? Why were you there? And why are you telling me?”

She looked up from the picture she’d been looking at where it was Natasha, herself, and their instructor James. It’d been taken after a particularly exhausting training day but Nat had managed to get her and James somewhat smiling.

“It wasn’t exactly a school. It was a program where twenty-six of us were trained to be ruthless fighters and skilled in espionage,” she had begun when she pointed to one of the pictures that were laid out on the coffee table. “I was sent there as a young child by my parents thinking it was a program to help us become proper ladies, when really it was about us becoming skilled assassins.” She pointed to the other picture. “These two girls were the one in the highest ranks, which happens to be Natasha and myself. I’m telling you this because I believe you deserve to know the truth rather than finding out on your own.” She stopped to collect her thoughts and let him process what he had been told.

He slightly shook his head. “I don’t understand… Why does it matter whether I know, or how I find out? So you were enrolled in a young assassins class, what does that matter?”

“This is me trying to be honest about my past so that you and I don't have any bad standings.” She couldn't look at him, she felt as if she were too exposed to keep going. “When you told me you were looking through here fear came over me thinking if you’d find these pictures you’d try to convince Y/N/N that I shouldn’t be around her because of how dangerous I can be…” She got quiet for a moment. “I just got her back I don’t want to lose her again. She’s been that one constant person in my life since I had gone into college. It might be a bit clingy but she has no idea how much more I need her than she needs me.”  Shannon felt as if a weight had been slightly lifted from her shoulders.

At this, Loki smirked quietly to himself. “Well, I can’t blame you for wanting to be around her. She is quite magnetic, isn’t she?” It was more rhetorical than anything else. “I… I may be a lot of things… but hypocritical is something I try not to be. I don’t hide the fact that I betray and deceive… which is precisely why your past doesn’t bother me.” He took a deep breath, thinking. “Y/N knows about your past, correct?”

She nodded.

“And she still remained your best friend…”

Again, she nodded. 

“So… then why would I care?” Before she could answer, Loki continued. “I love her dearly, and I want to protect her from the evil in this universe, but I also respect the fact that she is an adult and can make her own informed decisions. If she knows of this past and chooses to be your friend, I see no reason to take that from either of you. Until you give me a reason not to trust you around her, I won’t do that.”

“You have no idea how much this means to me right now, Loki. I’ve never really thought about this but talking to you now like this makes me rethink about the person you are,” she told him in all honesty. “I believe there’s so much more to you than what you’ve shown us, and I’d like to make things up to you.”

Instantly, he was both touched and curious. “Oh? What would that be?”

“That’s what I’m still trying to figure out. I don’t know much about you aside from what’s happened here, and the fangirling Y/N/N had done about you when she was in Asgard.”

He couldn’t help but grin at this. “Fangirling, eh? Did she really mention me?”

She smiled seeing how pleased he looked knowing how he’d made you react when you first met him. “Half of the times she sent me a letter it would be her describing you and the type of person you seem to be,” she said. “Other times it would be her talking about your eyes and the sound of your voice, just don’t tell her I told you.” She laughed waving her hand. “She’d probably get flustered knowing you know.”

“Your secret is safe with me. I do wonder though, why she kept that from me. You would think I would find it endearing,” he wondered with a tiny smile. 

“Thank you, Loki. Also wow what a total sap you could be!” she exclaimed a bit. Getting to know Loki like this was very interesting. “How are you doing now that you're living here and you're working with Stephen?” she asked, genuinely curious.

“Surprisingly, better, now that I’m not simply cleaning up his shop of relics. He’s actually telling me what things do, and I feel like I’m learning a lot. As far as living here, well... “ He looked around. “I honestly have no idea what I’m doing. I grew up with Odin and my mother, in a palace. Taken prisoner on Sanctuary, and then imprisoned here on Earth. I’ve never… I’ve never lived this sort of domestic life, especially with a partner. I have no idea what to do, if I’m doing a good job. I’ve heard a lot about ‘balancing work and home’, and I’m not sure if I’m doing that at all. I feel… guilty because Y/N went through all of this trouble getting this space, this home, set up for us and I don’t know how to properly care for it or live in it. I can’t cook. I don’t know how to clean or what cleaning product does what. Just the other day I tried cleaning the sink, and when Y/N saw me, she screamed in terror, telling me that I was using the wrong cleaner… I had no idea such a thing existed… I still can’t manage to work a computer or television well. This must be how she felt coming to Asgard,” he suddenly realized. 

At that moment, his eyes seemed to shift to a far off point, as if he were reliving something. 

“It’s a wonder how she ever survived my planet… our planet,” he corrected, remembering your true heritage. “Everything here is so strange and new and peculiar. It makes me worry that….” He stopped, not one for sharing his weaknesses, but seeing as Shannon had bared her soul, it was only fair. “It worries me that she will… want a normal life, with a normal human man from Earth. Someone she doesn’t have to explain everything to.”

She nodded her head knowing where he was coming from. “I was in the same position you were when I moved into the tower and Tony and I were still figuring things out. He was still getting used to the idea that he was in a relationship with a skilled assassin and I had to get out of the mindset of not having specific orders on how to do things. I was able to have a choice.” She went on to talk about how she’d felt the same way and tried to leave but Tony wouldn’t have it. “If you would like I could install one of the Al systems into the apartment to help you get caught up with everything? They could answer all your questions.” She waited to see how he would respond. 

Loki waited a moment, contemplating it. He wasn’t sure using more technology to learn technology was a great strategy, but he also didn’t have anything to lose, and he desperately needed help. 

“Sure. I would appreciate that. And if you could teach me how to do laundry…?” he asked in a hopeful, nervous tone. He worried Shannon would laugh at the fact that he needed help with something so mundane. If she said no, he would plan to play it off like a joke. 

“I would be happy to help you,” she simply replied in a tone that she hoped would soothe his feeling of nervousness. “There’s no need to feel nervous about asking me about these sorts of things,” she reaffirmed.

“Thank you. It’s good to know that.” 

A moment of awkward silence fell between the two of them as Loki nervously played with his hands.

“Is there something the matter? I can practically feel the nervousness pulsing from you.”

His eyes flashed to hers. “Actually… If I’m being honest, your presence makes me--”

“Uncomfortable?” she finished, knowing exactly how he felt.

“Precisely.” 

“Guess it’ll take some time getting used to being around each other. I do however want to apologize for what happened at the sanctum. I didn’t think it would get that out of control or why Stevie didn’t pin me to the floor.” She felt guilty knowing that she caused this awkwardness between them and hoped to get passed it. “I’m still not sure when I’ll be stable enough to control it and not the other way around.” 

He waved her off. “Think nothing of that. I’m not… referring to your recent… abilities. I’m more referring to… well.. Years ago. It’s hard not to look at you, and be reminded of how one moment you were my girlfriend, the next you’re literally stabbing me in the back… Kudos, by the way. Quite clever. It does remind me of something I would do. Perhaps why it frightens me... “ A fond smile played at his lips. “That was years ago, I know, but your training may have something to do with that… To be fair, I was trying to take over your home planet.”

She stayed quiet for a moment, she seemed frozen in the memory of that day all those years ago. In an instant, it began to pour outside, causing Loki to run and close the window. 

“Shannon?” he questioned, concerned. While what he said was true, he didn’t want to cause her discomfort. He was just about to reach for her when she seemed to snap back to the present. 

“I’m sorry, I’m so sorry, I didn’t mean to cause you to fear me…” She paused, she knew there was nothing she could do to reassure him that she meant no harm to him but with the recent event that’s twice she’s attempted to kill him

He shook his head, waving her off. “It’s fine. It’s been years passed, and quite frankly it was deserved. We did attack you. However, the fact remains that you shoved a knife in my back.” Then, as if he remembered something, he commented, “Actually, I would say we’re even at this point. Y/N nearly killed Tony. You nearly killed me. Y/N shot and stabbed you. By now, I think the scales are pretty balanced.” For a split second, his face was serious, before it broke into a playful smile and chuckle. 

Shannon paled at remembering all that’s occurred and the split moment with how serious he sounded. “I… guess we are balanced. Let’s just keep it at that, don’t you think?” She laughed a tiny bit hoping the awkwardness would fade.

He laughed back. “Yes, I think that’s a good idea. I… I would like nothing more if we could put the past in the past and move forward with a clean slate?”

“I think that is a great idea.”

“Good. I’m glad we could clear that up.” 

Just as he said that, the door unlocked, and you stepped through the threshold. At first, you frowned, wondering what those two were doing. Then, it quickly became replaced with a gentle smile. Seeing the two people you loved the most in this world talking, possibly bonding even. 

“Hey. What are y’all doin?” you asked. 

“Nothing much, just looking at some of the old pictures you still have if us from college,” Shannon told you. She looked at the time and saw that she’d been there for two hours. “Oh shoot! It's late. I should get back to the tower.”

“Oh? Why? Where’s the fire? Did you come to see me?” you wondered. 

“I came to hang out with you but when you weren't around well…”

“Well… what?” you questioned. “Did you two fight?” you noted, a little worried.

“Loki and I got to talking and we seem to be on the same page about things and have a mutual understanding of each other.”

“Well I’m glad to hear that. Are you sure you can’t stay?” you asked, starting to put your bags down on the floor.

“I would love to but I just realized there's a change I need to make to the invites list and get Tony to be okay with it,” she said going over to you and giving you a hug. “You and I will still get out a movie night before you leave, you hear me?” She kissed your forehead and turned to wave to Loki. “Have a good night you two.”

“What was that all about?” you wondered as soon as the door closed.

“Just some… mending, is all. Did you find everything you wanted?” 

You wanted to inquire more, but you knew Loki would tell you everything, eventually. You launched into everything you bought, feeling elated that your loved ones were settling things between them.

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