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nabtime · 1 year ago

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Our Empty Graves XII

Fandom: Danny Phantom / Batman: Under the Red Hood

Pairings: Danny Fenton/Jason Todd (Dead on Main)

Rating: Mature

Tags: batfamily, hazmat AU, Nobody Knows AU, Mute!Phantom, potential ghost king danny, slow burn?, DC means Disregard Canon, AU means AU nothing is exactly the same, Angst with a Happy Ending, Hurt/Comfort, more than canon typical violence, danny is a Halfa and also a Fetch, no beta we die like basically everyone

Summary: They say that Red Hood has a loyal mutt. The man rules his territory in Crime Alley with an iron fist and a guard dog at his side. They say that Hood calls him Fetch, sometimes Fetcher. No one's ever heard him speak. Anyone who's ever seen him says he looks like an experiment gone wrong, that Hood picked him up somewhere unspeakable. They say he'll do anything Red Hood asks of him and he'll do it well. That he's strong and fast and probably inhuman. The girls say he's sweet; quiet but charming in his own way. Rival gangs say he's vicious; that he'd sooner rip your throat out than let you go.

Jason just wants to help him.

Chapter 12: with my eyes wide open im dreaming (darling do I deserve such a break?)

Chapter Summary: Recovery, cooking lessons, and an odd dream.

Chapter Notes: title from With My Eyes Wide Open I'm Dreaming by Patti Page Links: AO3 // Chapter 1 // Chapter 11 // Chapter 13 // Spotify

They got back from Doctor Leslie’s clinic after she’d kicked them out in the early hours of the morning. Danny couldn’t really tell you which day or how long they’d been in her clinic, but he could tell you it was early. Too damn early for anything, let alone traversing the back-streets of Gotham and hoping no one tried to jump them while Red’s hands were tied. He carefully directed Danny down the streets and made sure he didn’t get lost as they made their way to one of Red’s safe-houses. From what he was able to tell it looked like the same one he’d first been brought to, the one he was most familiar with. The one that looked the most lived in.

They both collapsed on the couch and didn’t move for a long while, neither of them dropping off to sleep like they should have- just trying to process everything.

Danny chose to stare at the ceiling, the colors of everything around him seemed so bright- no matter how often he’d had his tinted visor off lately, it was still something he wasn’t used to. He’d... existed, for so long, with everything in shadows and bathed in a sheen of darkness. His face felt naked and vulnerable to the world.

He didn’t want to put it back on, though. Which was a new and terrifying feeling.

He chose to ignore it and bask in the silence of the apartment, the only sounds being the hum of the appliances and the distant hustle of the city. There was a surprising lack of screaming and sirens that usually plagued Gotham, probably from the ungodly early hour. Even the terror of Gotham had to sleep sometimes- the rogues and the bats all tucked away all nice in bed while the normies went about their day.

What a wild place he’d landed in.

He hoped that explosion hadn’t hurt anyone else. He’d been far too distracted by making sure Red made it out okay that he didn’t even think to look for any other casualties. Although, he was pretty certain no one else liked to hang around the carnival themed area of the docks so the likelihood of any others getting caught in the blast was low. But not zero. Whatever the case, it was too late now- the cleanup and aftermath having long since passed. Whatever bodies there may or may not have been weren’t something he could help with now. It wasn’t something he particularly want to think about either. (There seemed to be quite a few things that he didn’t want to think about.)

He thought, instead, about what to do with Red’s hands. As a ghost, Danny had some semblance of accelerated healing. So, theoretically, since Hood was also ghost-adjacent, he could have accelerated healing too. Maybe Danny could jump-start the process? Figure out a way to blast his hands with enough regenerative ectoplasm that it fixed them all shiny and new instead of making them radioactive? He also needed to take care of that poison pooling in the other’s chest. He didn’t like it. He’d never encountered ectoplasm that was so rancid before. Usually you could tell the intent of the stuff by the smell or the taste- some instinctual sense ghosts had to tell one type of goo from another. The stuff Hood had felt like nothing but pure malice. It had no other purpose but to hurt.

It was close enough to ectoplasm to bring the other back to life (if that’s even what did it in the first place) and give Red some ghostly attributes (like purring!) so it stood to reason that pure or at least regenerative ecto would fix it. But would flushing his system with it work? Would it eradicate the poisoned ecto or would that have to be removed first for it all to work? Would anything even happen at all? Would any of it help or would trying to do any of that just kill him all the way? Red had been alive with the bad-goo for this long without much consequence, who’s to say it even needed to be removed at all?

Danny didn’t know. Danny didn’t even have the slightest clue. He wasn’t a doctor. He wasn’t an expert. All he had were questions and shoddy speculations. Nothing he could test. Nothing he would dare mention to Red in case it went horribly, horribly wrong.

It would be fine as it was for now. Probably. Hood would just have to deal with his hands healing at a normal human rate, no matter how long and terrible that was.

They sat for a good while longer. Danny in a slowly growing panic and Red nearly dropping off to sleep right there on the couch a few times.

Then the awkwardness began. The first hurdle they’d have to jump while Danny cared for the other during recovery.

Red pulled himself from the couch with a prolonged groan- movement slow and likely agonizing. He didn’t move further, just shuffled from foot to foot in discomfort and looked into the distance with the most despondent look he’d ever seen on the other man’s face. Danny sat up and studied him, waiting for a cue to guess where he could help.

“I have to go,” Red whispered, voice wrecked from his sore throat and the pure helplessness in his tone.

They had a silent stand off. Hood glared at his hands, then Danny, then the bathroom door just down the hall before he circled back to his hands. He didn’t appreciate Danny’s silent huff of laughter at the action.

Danny rolled his eyes and held up a hand, holding up one finger and then two and tilting his head in question.

Red sighed. “One,” he said tersely.

Danny shrugged a bit, hauling himself up from the couch. Then he stepped closer, looking up into Red’s widening baby-blues with a smirk. Gently, he undid the tie to Red’s sweatpants and loosened them, then stepped back. He waved toward the bathroom and then mimed shimmying pants down using his elbows and then sitting, trusting Hood would get the message without him having to spell it out.

Red squinted at him before the light-bulb seemed to go off. “Fucking genius,” he muttered before speed-walking for the bathroom- happy he could do that by himself at least.

(How he got his pants back on without Danny’s help was a bit of a mystery, but none of the bandages had been disturbed so he let it go.)

Red Hood was a stubborn man. Danny already knew this, but trying to take care of him and make sure he didn’t use his hands only made it clearer. Hood was a stubborn bastard dead set on self-sabotaging his recovery.

He refused help wherever he thought he could get away with it and tried to sneak in doing tasks that he knew he couldn’t do on his own anyway. Danny had caught him multiple times trying to do things he shouldn’t- like attempting to get plastic over the wrappings on his hands in order to do dishes when Danny wasn’t looking. Kudos to him for thinking to protect the wrappings from getting wet, but he was still in trouble because he was putting undue pressure on his broken hands. Danny had also caught the man trying to put on his Hood Helmet™ and crawl out the window! He’d had a very stern “talk” with him after that- Danny threatened to take Red’s hands off himself if he tried that again.

It was all incredibly awkward at first. There were quite a few things you couldn’t do on your own if you didn’t have hands- not if you weren’t used to it- not without tools. And Danny had to be there to help him with all of it. He didn’t mind it- not really. It was a little odd with how intimate it felt, but he liked taking care of Red. That protective part of his core hummed with satisfaction at being able to keep Red healthy and safe. He was also perfectly happy to let Red have as much independence he could manage without using his hands- if he could use his elbows or feet or whatever other appendage or makeshift tool for the task then Danny would let him. He was surprisingly resourceful so long as Danny made sure he wasn’t trying to push himself past his limits.

Their second big hurdle came with dinner.

Danny caught him trying to fumble with cooking utensils in the kitchen. He knew his cooking wasn’t that great, but come on! It wasn’t that bad! None of his food reanimated and he took that as a win.

“Ghoul boy,” Hood said after Danny had thrown a tantrum and pushed him into one of the rickety kitchen chairs and glared at him with his hands on his hips on accusation, “I’m tired of take-out. It’s been two weeks. And I don’t trust you to cook on your own after what happened with the bagels last Wednesday.”

Danny silently scoffed and threw a careless hand to the side. So I’d burned a few bagels. So, what?

Red glared. “You destroyed my toaster and nearly set the apartment on fire. The toaster isn’t even supposed to get that hot, let alone burst into flames that can’t be put out by a regular fire extinguisher. We had to toss it out the window and hope for the best! I don’t even know how you did that!”

Okay, so, maybe it was a bit worse than burning the bagels. But still! He could do something simpler! He huffed and threw his hands in the air. I could pour cereal without setting it on fire! Probably!

“You absolutely would find a way to set cereal on fire and you know it, Spooks,” Red retorted, irritated but also vaguely amused.

Danny deflated a bit before flopping into the other rickety old kitchen chair, scratching dejectedly at the sleek dark wood of the itty-bitty table the chairs surrounded. It sat in a small corner of the kitchen and was what counted for a dining room in the small apartment.

The apartment itself was small and cozy- it felt a little lived in- even if it was still pretty barren. The kitchen was well stocked with utensils and appliances (fancy ones that Danny definitely never wanted to touch for fear of either breaking them or them breaking him), if not always stocked well with ingredients. There were extra blankets and pillows for the second-hand couch- all in bland colors and made of cheap material. It screamed of a temporary place, something put together with minimal thought and expense- always meant to be a safe-house instead of a home. Not to mention the cache of weapons and tools that took up the entirety of the guest room. And the industrial strength first-aid kit supplies stocked in with them. He’d only glimpsed the room once, Hood showing him briefly when he’d apologized about not having any extra space. Danny’d shrugged- he slept in a tree most times, he could stand the couch.

Red interrupted his wandering thoughts with a question he didn’t particularly want to think about. “How’d you manage to be so bad at cooking in the first place? You eat, even as a ghost, so have you just been foraging around the forest all this time, like some undead squirrel?”

Danny huffed some semblance of a laugh before sighing. The question had an answer, there was absolutely a reason he was so bad in the kitchen, but did he want to share it? Show such a sad piece of himself to Red Hood? He stared down at the table as he tapped a slow rhythm on the wood. He couldn’t feel it under his fingertips, even without his gloves on. He debated for a bit before pulling the marker and whiteboard from his chest. He hesitated, fiddling with the cap and making no move to write.

There was a soft hum from Red and he looked up to see the other staring at the ceiling with a frown on his face.

“I’ve always liked cooking,” he said, voice soft and distant. “Even when I was bad at it, even when I didn’t know what I was doing, and even when I was only doing it because if I didn’t then I wouldn’t be fed.”

Danny felt his core let loose a small mourning croon before he could stop himself, the sound not unlike a dove’s churr. He quickly slapped his hands over his mouth (like that was even where the sound had come from) and tried hard to fight off a blush.

Red let out a short laugh at him, his eyes focused on Danny now instead of some long-away point in his past. Red’s grin slipped, though, as he continued.

“Growing up in Crime Alley is tough. Even tougher with a shitty dad and a mom that couldn’t control her drug use. She tried her best, but her good moments- where she was coherent and cared- were few and far between,” he said before smiling a bit. “The neighbors would step in, sometimes, if I bugged them enough. If they were friendly enough. Learned a lot of different recipes that way, too. All kinds of folk can end up down here, on the ground floor of Gotham.”

He sighed. “Really had to learn to fend for myself when I was inevitably orphaned.”

Danny didn’t like the way he said that. Like it had only been a matter of time before he was left to the mercy of the streets. Like it was the expected outcome. Like it was an everyday occurrence. Or- like he had deserved it. Like the circumstances had been his fault. He crooned again, lifting up from his chair and reaching out.

He placed a hand over Red’s forearm, wanting desperately to hold his hand instead, but trying to give comfort where he could anyway. Hood laughed softly at his efforts and smiled at him.

“I wasn’t orphaned for long, Spooks,” he said, using his wrist to pat at Danny’s hand to let him know it was okay. “I got picked up eventually.” And then his face twisted into a grimace, a complicated series of emotions flashing across his face before he shook his head to clear it. “B wasn’t ever allowed in the kitchen, but Alfred taught me all kinds of tricks and tips and dishes to make. I miss it sometimes, honestly.”

Danny floated closer, lifting fully out of his chair to lean against Hood’s side, offering silent support. He didn’t ask, not wanting to bring up bad memories and knowing full well how painful it could be to think back on the good times before you died. Most times it was worse than thinking about the bad times; because you knew it would never be the same. That you could never, ever, go back to those times. Death, even temporary as it had been for both of them, was a force of finality. A curtain closing around your life as you knew it. Dying changed you.

Red smiled and leaned down to press his forehead to the top of Danny’s head where the foggy wisps of his hair licked at Hood’s shoulder. Danny just nuzzled him further before pulling back and picking up the board again. He wouldn’t share everything, but he could share a little. Just like Red had. He tapped the board for a bit before deciding on what to write, appreciating the quiet patience of the other beside him as he waited.

My dad was really bad at cooking- unless it was fudge. And my mom wasn’t too bad at it, but she’d get distracted a lot and end up burning things. And then she and dad would hole up in the lab most days anyway. It didn’t help that they would store specimen samples in the fridge next to the food either. My older sister tried her best, but she was too young for most of the big appliances at first and no one was around to teach either of us most of the time.

He decided to leave it at that. He didn’t want to go into the times the food came back to life. Didn’t want to think about how many thanksgivings and holidays had been ruined from the turkey reanimating and besieging the house or the cookies going up in flames and almost burning everything to the ground. Didn’t want to think about all the times Jazz had burned herself trying to keep them fed with something decent or how often she’d had to beat the blender into submission with the Fenton Creep Stick. He couldn’t look at a toaster without shuddering- probably why Red’s had combusted like that, actually- not after one had tried to eat him alive when he was five.

Red nudged Danny’s arm with his elbow, offering a silent comfort just like Danny had done for him. He also didn’t ask further, letting the knowledge sit between the both of them. Red hadn’t had a good childhood and Danny hadn’t had a particularly stellar one either. It’d taken time and perspective for him to come to that conclusion- about how his parents hadn’t been as good as they probably should have been. And that wasn’t even to mention what happened after the accident.

He caught Red looking thoughtfully down at the main jumpsuit of the hazmat he still wore, and heard the soft murmur of, “A lab, huh?” before Red sighed and slumped over the back of his chair. His huge muscley bulk made it creak ominously.

“Alright,” Hood declared, pushing himself up from the table and attempting to put his hands on his hips before thinking better of it. “Cooking lessons it is, then.”

What? Danny stood fully and moved to stand in front of Red while drawing a frantic question mark in the air. How the hell did he expect to do this without hands?!

Red shrugged. “I’m going to tell you what to do and you’re going to do it. Carefully and with strict supervision. And you might want to go ahead and grab the fire-extinguisher.”

Danny stared. This was not going to end well.

Oh well, it wasn’t his kitchen at risk here. He did grab the extinguisher, though.

“Open up the fridge and the cabinets, Jellyfish. I gotta see what we’re working with here.”

Danny did so, floating a little bit in order to reach the top shelves and ignoring Hood’s soft snicker at the action. Damn tall people. He stood back and watched as Hood went around, muttering to himself as he compared different ingredients- what little they had- and only occasionally asking Danny to pick something up and check its expiration date.

“The andouille’s still good, we have rice, and the spices are all in date- even if they’re not fresh,” he heard Red murmur as he paced around the small space in the kitchen, Danny now floating over the table to keep out of his way. “No aromatics, though. Didn’t have a reason to keep fresh produce. Miracle at all that I even had sausage and broth.”

He paced back towards one of the cabinets, lifting a hand before pulling it back when Danny made a move to lunge and stop him. He grumbled before using an elbow to shift the cans around himself.

“Tomatoes,” he said, nudging a can to the front and picking it up between his elbows to place on the counter, “so creole style.”

Danny would forever be impressed with how much Red had learned to improvise in the two weeks without his hands so far. The man had been put out at first but he was quickly learning everything he could and couldn’t do and what he could manage in more- creative ways.

The table was already littered with several ingredients, ready to be put to use once Red was finally done obsessing over having everything they needed. Oil, sausage, a bag of long grain rice, a box of chicken broth, a bottle of hot sauce and another of worcestershire, and several different spices and seasonings. One was labeled Cajun, so he assumed they were cooking something spicy.

“Fetch!” Hood barked, causing Danny to startle out of his floating and almost fall- barely catching himself before he hit the table. He looked up to see Red grinning at him and stuck his tongue out in retaliation.

“Grab my phone for me, would ya?” Hood asked before turning back around and assessing the bare cabinets yet again.

It had become a pretty common thing between them, Hood trusting Danny with his phone to text and help make calls. It was the only way Hood was allowed to still run his criminal empire- from a distance, and in turn Danny was trusted with the passcode and access to everything. Red had a surprising amount of numbers saved in there- always a person for something or another. Just as many numbers for Grannies around the Alley as there were for the gang members in his crew. Danny knew Hood was trying to build a community- trying to make things better in every way, but it was still astounding to see.

He’d called Nadi early on that way too. Yes, Hood had had to do the talking and Nadi had chewed him out real good before busting down the door to the apartment to make sure Danny was okay, but he hadn’t wanted to let her worry. She’d taken Red by the ear and chewed him out some more after fussing over Danny- telling Hood that the only reason she wasn’t tearing him a new asshole was because he’d already done that himself. He’d been surprised that Red had been willing to let her see him without his helmet- he’d still slapped a mask on but still. And even more surprised that he’d let her know the address to the apartment. It spoke a lot of the trust he had in both Danny and Nadi. He was in a particularly vulnerable spot with his injuries- yet he’d let them in.

He grabbed the phone from corner of the living room that had a tiny little table next to an open outlet with a charger plugged in. Hood had multiple phones- most of them burners- but this one was the main one so it got it’s own special little place. He popped it off the charger and skipped back into the kitchen, unlocking it and holding it up for Red to see.

He nodded and said distractedly, “Call Mama Pourciau for me, please? I’m hoping she has some of the ingredients we’re missing.”

Danny did as told, scrolling through the frankly huge list of contacts until he got to Mama Pourciau and clicked the call icon. He put it on speaker and held it close to Hood so he could talk comfortably. He wondered idly what they’d be making.

Well, he wasn’t about to find out through the phone call because Red was not speaking English while talking with Mama Pourciau. If he had to guess, he’d say French- but it also sounded different to any French he’d heard before. He’d have to ask later what language it was.

He zoned out while watching Red talk, his voice nice as it wrapped around words he’d never heard before- the accent of them pleasing in a way Danny never thought he’d have a thing for. And then the call ended on Mama P’s end and Hood was smirking at him over the dial tone.

He shook his head and gave Hood a sheepish look, floating back over to the living room to put the phone away in order to avoid the teasing light in his eyes.

“She’s going to be bringing a few ingredients by, so keep an ear out for the door. She didn’t have everything but it’ll do in a pinch,” he said and then paused and hummed thoughtfully. “Go find those blankets that Mrs. Almeida dropped off the other day, too. Mama Pourciau’s daughter had a baby a few months ago and those should do as payment.”

Danny grinned and gave a jaunty salute before hopping away to hunt down the downy-soft blankets Mrs. Almeida had knitted and brought over for them in thanks for paying her son’s bail last week. Joao had done nothing wrong and Mrs. Almeida had been beside herself when the GCPD had tackled him and taken him in. Danny himself had gone down to the precinct and haunted the shit out of them in retribution.

Most people in the Alley seemed to work within a complex network of barter and trade, working with each other to cover each other’s needs. At least, now that Hood was making sure there weren’t any trouble-makers to disrupt it they were. And he kept the cops away from things that weren’t their business. Before the Alley had seemed to be a free-for-all. An every-man-for-himself type of place full of cruelty and despair. Now, slowly, it was building into a community. Something beautiful.

When Mama Pourciau knocked on the door, Danny answered with a grin and an armful of brightly-colored blankets. The older woman-stout and dark skin lined with age- had cooed and kissed his cheeks and traded burdens with ease. She hadn’t flinched at all at the sight of his fangs when he smiled. Hadn’t even hesitated to hug his colder body, her warm one smelling like coco butter and spices. She just patted him on the cheek and told him he was a sweet boy with her pretty accent and then told him to tell Red Hood that she’d be happy to send him recipes any time.

He nodded, awed at her response to his monstrous nature and waved with his hands full of groceries as she left. He felt dazed as he made his way back into the kitchen.

Red laughed at the look on his face when he came back. “Komik,” he said softly, shaking his head before gesturing for Danny to put the bags on the table to join the other ingredients.

“Cooking one oh one,” he started. “Fancy cooking, at least, starts by making your mise en place.”

Danny stared blankly and waited for Hood to explain what that was. He didn’t know any French, thanks. He’d barely learned any Spanish in high school before he’d had to drop out. Thankfully, Red knew full well he was an idiot already.

“You gather everything you need, measure it all out, and have it handy for when you’re ready to put it all together,” he continued without any judgment in his tone. “So lets see what Mama P was able to scrounge up and put it all together.”

Danny pulled everything out one by one, Hood naming each ingredient as he did so. Onions, green and red bell peppers, celery, garlic, dried oregano and thyme, okra, and even a small amount of shrimp.

“Ooh,” he said when Danny’d pulled out the shrimp. “I’m gonna have to get that woman something more than blankets for that. Didn’t ask her for any shrimp, sneaky minx.”

Danny had spluttered at the phrase, almost dropping the shrimp in the process. Who the hell called a sweet old lady like Mama Pourciau a minx?

Red laughed at Danny’s fumbling but then mumbled, “Don’t tell her I said that.”

Danny rolled his eyes before miming closing a zipper over his mouth.

“Alright,” Hood said, stepping over to the cabinets and drawers and pulling one open with his elbow. “Time to slice, dice, and measure.”

Danny pulled all the tools they would need per Hood’s instructions, making sure to follow along and pay attention. He was determined not to set anything on fire this time. Right now, thankfully, they weren’t working with heat yet, just chopping and putting everything together. Pulling out things like a Dutch oven and setting it aside. Measuring cups of rice and broth and using little spoons for the spices that were then put in little cups. It was fascinating. It was… nice.

Danny didn’t know cooking could be like this. Slow and methodical and soothing. There was no yelling here- no shouting about sentient hot dogs or being careful with the stove that he was too small to use. There was no uncertainty here- no guessing and guessing wrong about the basics and ending up with inedible accidents or stinging burns. Just him, Hood’s low, patient voice, and the food slowly coming together under his hands.

Partway through, Red had them stop and look for the small radio he kept in one of the upper cabinets, wanting to listen to something while they cooked. He had Danny flip though several different stations before landing on one that played music you might be more likely to hear play from a gramophone- soft and brassy and old. He’d wanted to question it, but watching Red’s eyes close in contentment and his hips gently sway made him pause. Maybe another time. He almost nicked himself with the knife watching those hips.

“We’re going to use the stove now, jellyfish,” Hood said softly as he nudged Danny with one of those distracting hips. “You ready for that?”

He shrugged. Maybe another time he’d be nervous, certain something would catch fire, but with Red showing him what to do and how, he felt pretty confident he wouldn’t mess up so badly this time. He bumped his own hip against Red’s and moved all the things they’d be sauteing next to the stove as the other told him to.

He browned the andouille, no problem, and then spooned it out for later. He poured in the onion, bell pepper, and celery, smiling as he stirred and relished in the delicious smell. Cooking had never smelled so good before- not when he was the one at the helm like this. It was something he could get used to if it went this well each time. It felt far more relaxing than he’d ever thought it could. He was used to the kitchen being a war-zone, full of screaming and fighting and chaos. This was nothing like that here now; just the soft sizzle of the food, gentle strains of old slow jazz, and the low murmur of Red’s instructions.

Hood hummed, pressing close behind him- chest to back, and hooked his chin on Danny’s shoulder. He was surprised at just how comfortable it all was. He leaned back into the embrace, just a bit, and felt his core rumble with a contented purr. Hood huffed a small laugh, but Danny could feel the echoing purr from the other’s chest against his back. Red had them both slowly swaying to the music and Danny had never felt so- warm was the only way to describe it- in his life.

“Garlic now,” Red said into his ear, “just for a little bit. Half a minute about. Till you can smell it good.”

Danny shivered and dutifully poured it in. The aroma in the kitchen was already heavenly, but it just continued to get better and better the longer they cooked. He could see why Hood liked this so much now. Eventually all the ingredients aside from the shrimp were added into the pot- Dutch oven- and all that was left was to wait while it simmered for awhile before adding them in.

It was peaceful and beautiful and if he could bottle the moment up he would. Just the smell of spices cooking on the stove and the rocking dance with Red to soft strings and trumpets. He didn’t deserve such a good moment. Something so painfully human and full of life. He didn’t deserve something so dreadfully gentle. But he wouldn’t tear himself away for the world. Maybe it was selfish of him, but he couldn’t bare to let it any of it go.

And in the end, well, they’d managed to make a pretty damn good jambalaya. Even Red said so.

═════ ◈ ═════

It wasn’t often that Danny dreamed. It wasn’t often that he slept in the first place, his ghostly nature allowing him to go for days without rest, and to dream within those handful of moments was rare. Nightmares, yes, they plagued him almost every time he couldn’t avoid dropping off to sleep any longer.

Dreams were different, though. Softer.

It should have been a nightmare, with what he was witnessing, but everything was distant and fuzzy around the edges. Like he was completely detached from the scene (the memory) he’d found himself watching from a completely different point of view. This wasn’t his memory, but it was of him, of something that often came back to haunt him.

He watched, in remote fascination, as his own clawed hand plunged into Pariah Dark’s prone chest and ripped out his core.

He’d been told by the other ghosts right before the battle, and in no uncertain terms, that taking the Tyrant King’s core was the only way to stop him. That without the original Council of Ancients to seal him away, putting him back in the Sarcophagus would do nothing. The only way for him to be defeated was to End him. And they’d all been fairly confident that Danny was the only one capable of doing it.

And hadn’t that been something? Every ghost that had ever kicked his ass had told him that he was the only one. The only one strong enough to defeat an Ancient King that had ruled over the Realms for thousands of years, that had previously only been defeated by being locked away by a group of powerful Ancients.

And he, an eighteen year old half-breed that they’d previously fought to hell and back, was their only hope.

He ran, at first. Scared out of his mind and fully believing that all his enemies were simply trying to get him to fully kill himself and act as canon fodder against Pariah to buy them all more time. Yes, he’d gotten stronger. Exponentially, every year. Especially after he abandoned the last shreds of his humanity and dedicated his full focus to developing his powers and fighting skills. He had no allies. Only four years of getting the snot beat out of him and a worryingly long list of powers that grew by the week. That wasn’t enough to kill a King. Not alone. Not by himself.

They’d found him and pulled him back, telling him his only choices were to either face the menace or be Ended himself. He hadn’t seen much choice there. They’d reluctantly laid out a plan to help him. They knew all their afterlives were at stake should he fail, but yet no one else stepped forward to do the job themselves.

The weight on his shoulders- his duty as a protector- had always been heavy. Especially when he’d just started out, when all he’d been was a scrappy fourteen year old just trying to survive. Just trying to protect the family that continually left him cold. Trying to protect the town that grew to hate him more and more. And when the GIW had invaded, it grew to protect other ghosts as well. It hadn’t been very hard, with the GIW being as incompetent as they were, but he still hadn’t wanted to see what would happen if they caught anyone. And it wasn’t like protecting the ghosts that hurt him had changed the status quo- he was far too used to saving those that would rather kill him than accept his help. But he gave it anyway.

And now they were forcing him. Telling him that despite all the animosity they’d treated him with, he was their only hope for survival. That he had to put what was left of his life at stake for them.

And he’d been so angry at first. Wanting to rage and scream and not being able to emit a single sound from within his suit. Because how dare they? How dare they pin this all on his shoulders? How dare they demand he save them after everything they’d put him through? After every fight, every taunt, every stab in the back.

And then Vlad, the idiot fruitloop that had started it all, had pulled the Fright Knight’s sword from the ground and transported the entirety of Amity Park into the Infinite Realms.

The people at the edges of his parent’s ghost shield had died. Humans couldn’t survive the Realms for long, and they could survive even less without protective measures like the shield. Not to mention however many casualties had happened when the ground itself had been rent apart with the transition.

And then the bastard had had the gall to tell Danny it was all his fault. That it was Danny’s cowardice that had killed them. Danny’s childishness that had caused everything to fall apart. He’d stood there, all smug and demeaning, pointing the sword at Danny’s chest as he placed the blame on someone else- completely disregarding how his own antics of tracking down the Ring of Rage for his own gain had been the reason Pariah was set loose in the first place. The Ring he still boasted on his finger.

It had never been more satisfying than that moment to punch the ass in his fanged blue face- the safety-goggles Vlad’d died in crunching under his fist.

The man liked to lord his superiority over everyone he came across, but especially Danny. Liked to claim that because he was the first of their kind, the first of the Halfas, and because he had years of experience and knowledge over Danny that he was better, and stronger, and smarter in every way and would always be so. That unless Danny gave in and became his student (his son), he would always, always be just a rash and ignorant boy. He liked to pretend, though, that it was also only a matter of time until Danny gave in. He used the fact that they were the same to twist the knife deeper and deeper. Insinuating that Danny’s path to becoming like him was an inevitability (and he refused to think about that).

But he was wrong; they weren’t the same. They were both Halfas, yes, but that wasn’t all they were. Danny was a Fetch, the ghost of a person still living. The true balance between life and death, a being both alive and dead in an even split. Vlad was a Draugr, a vengeful ghost with a corporeal body. There was still a part of Vlad that was living, however small, which classified him as a Halfa and allowed him to age the way a human would. But he was more ghost than human, even clutching to the last dregs of life within him as he was- claiming in vain he was human. Danny, on the other hand, had given up his life, denying that any part of him was still human despite the truth. Vlad was made from spite and slowly rotting flesh; Danny was made from tragedy and pure ectoplasm.

Danny had grabbed the sword from the cursing man and cut the hand that bore the Ring clean off in one vicious swipe. He’d never been so violent, never taken it that far before. And it had both felt exhilarating and terrifying. He’d shut down all feeling after that, grabbing the Ring for himself and leaving Vlad to scream and wallow in his deserved agony. They’d been lucky enough as it was that Pariah hadn’t taken the Ring from Vlad before that. With it, the King might have truly been unstoppable.

It’d been with the help of his enemies taking on the army, the Ring of Rage enhancing his Wail beyond measure, and the Sword of Nightmares slicing anything in his way, that he’d been able to fell the monster. He’d pinned Pariah to the ground with the Sword and used the enhanced strength of the Ring to dig into his chest.

(The Ring refused to leave his finger, stuck there- and forever making it impossible for him to speak without unleashing a world-ending wail. It stayed invisible most times, but he could feel it. Always.)

He watched, now, dispassionately, as a younger version of himself clutched Pariah’s core within his ectoplasm covered claws.

This was a dream, not a nightmare. He knew the difference well.

A figure appeared to his left, shrouded in a purple cloak and dark shadows, nothing of their face to be seen but deep red glow of their eyes- similar to the eye-shine of a predator in the dark. He knew the figure, but he couldn’t quite place from where. It was a memory on the edge of his mind, but he didn’t struggle too hard to grasp it. This was still just a dream.

The figure said nothing for a time, the both of them just continuing to watch the wretched memory play out. They watched Danny crush the core to dust, watched Pariah’s body melt horrifically slowly as he screamed, watched as Danny pulled the Sword from the King’s body and plunged it back into the ground. Watched as he fell to his knees in despair when nothing happened- when Amity remained trapped forever in the Realms.

“Why this?” he asked of the figure, wanting to look away, but unable.

“A warning,” the other said, voice smooth and even with the softest curl of a lisp at the edges. “A reminder.”

“Of what?” he asked, knowing he wasn’t likely to get an answer. Because that’s how all of this bullshit ever worked. Never any answers, never any real help.

“All will be revealed in time,” the other said, pulling a staff from the depths of their cloak and tapping it on the grass beneath their feet.

And then Danny woke up, disoriented and head fuzzy with sleep, the dream slipping from his mind the longer he tried to think of it, until it was nothing but a disquieting echo.

#naps fics #dp x dc #Our Empty Graves #dpxdc

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tasteofyourblood · 2 years ago

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ooh completely new created ask game! thank you @katealot

put your fav on shuffle. what does the first track remind you of? desire as - prefab sprouts FGNGNGNFF reminds me of fuckin Handsome Devil the film i had a 4 month long hyperfixation on

tragedy vs. comedy vs. drama vs. a secret fourth thing? comedy, sitcoms are my main form of entertainment and personality

what piece of artistic media do you associate with the summer? Emma (2020) which is funny bcuz i remember there being amazon ads for it w vivaldi's summer playing

what piece of artistic media do you associate with the fall/autumn? over the garden wall? or the bell jar idk why

what piece of artistic media do you associate with winter? vivaldi's winter lol or OH! I started albert camus' the plague on christmas day when we got stuck in a snowstorm driving up to canada so maybe that

what piece of artistic media do you associate with spring? idk I'll just say books in general bcuz my fav memory of spring now is the fact that during quarantine i was able to sit in the backyard and just Read everyday (& other things of course)

favorite practical effects movie oh The Thing definitely

favorite virtual effects movie pans labyrinth (im literally just looking up 'practical/visual effects movies' bcuz idk this off the top of my head) but also does the green knight count?

what podcast/album would you recommend to me right now if i was standing in front of you i only consistently listen to one and that's Books Unbound, oh but there's this specific one that i think everyone should listen to for self-love reasons

what’s your favorite colour AND how long has it been that specific colour i think it's changed to periwinkle maybe just last week or right this second.. idk

tagging @inkmaze @mlentertainment @snoopy-dyke @fagexe @human-sweater-vest @autism69 @kal-thas @meat-wentz and every pool noodle 🪱

#this was fun. im Very bad at thinking about media so pretty much every question i went to google or my watch/read list #tag game

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permian-tropos · 4 years ago

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just realized that the best way to explain the intrinsic appeal of whatever bullshit the utopians are on is “do you get a feeling of inexplicable longing when you listen to the jurassic park theme? do you tear up a little thinking about the scene of the sauropod reveal? even though you know the whole movie is about how dinosaurs are a bad idea do you also yearn for dinosaurs? well imagine thats whats happening in daniil’s head when he looks at the polyhedron. the jurassic park theme”

#another thing to not put in the main tag #I should start a personal patho tag #untitled plague game #there we go #also yes ive talked about jurassic park au w people before

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cozylittleartblog · 5 years ago

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some day i will also accept commission payments in pins and buttons. not soon, but some day.

yes im serious stop laughing

#not art #i've seen a few people take comm payments as physical items instead of money before #its rare but I Seen It #i will have buttons and enamel pins at like. a rate. like buttons are worth $2 enamel are worth like $10 or something?#match the price to what u want and mail that shit #once i get them i d r a w 4 u #there. would be a lot of technical stuff to handle like i gotta See The Pins first and the packages should probs have tracking #idk its a random thought that popped in my head when i was trying to sleep last night #ITS SOMETHING I WILL DO SOME DAY I JUST REALLY REALLY LIKE PINS #maybe pins would be worth more if they're limited edition or kickstarter excllusive or something #there's so many good pins that only ran thru a kickstarter thAT YOU CANT GET ANYMORE AMD IM MAD BOUT IT EVERY SINGLE DAY #I NEED PIN-BASED OMNIPOTENCE #pls check out my tag 'Pin Collection' on my main blog girlwiththegreenhat #pls talk to me about pins #im so got dam feral for pins #if i could have an art based business that wasn't just commissions i'd design and sell my own enamel pins #i already have. One Design. i need more. i could totally make more and i will when the virus blows over #if i survive this plague it's full swing into merch production babeyyyyy #or maybe im just. hyped up on soda and forgetting my place in the universe sdlkfjLKSDFLKJSADLKFSDFJKL

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sergeantbuckybarnes · 4 years ago

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everything i wanted // bucky barnes

Summary: Bucky asks you to pick Rebecca from school, as you spend the day with her, you can’t help to think that this is what you want, for the rest of your life.

Pairing: Chubby!Bucky x Reader (Single Parent AU)

Word count: 1.4k

Warnings: fluff, so much fluff

A/N: As always, remember English is not my first language. Also, thanks to @coffee-books-music for proofreading this!

You can consider this as a part two of begin again.

And tagging @buckys-estrella because you asked me to!

divider by @firefly-graphics

wanna be added to my permanent taglist? here

main masterlist

You were in front of the Brooklyn Elementary School waiting for Rebecca, your boyfriend’s daughter. Bucky had called you and told you that something came up at the workshop and he couldn’t pick Becca from school, so he asked you if you could do it. You didn’t mind, you and Bucky had been dating for a while now, since the day you saw him at the diner waiting for a date that never showed up and you decided to be his date instead everything had been perfect.

You met Rebecca a couple of months later. At first, you were nervous, thoughts of her not liking you plagued your mind but Bucky always reassured you that she was going to love you. And he was right. The little girl was delighted with you.

The three of you did a lot of things together, you went to the zoo, to the movies… Bucky couldn’t help himself think that this is how things should have been with Dot. He knew he was a good father and Rebecca loved him a lot but he also knew his little girl needed a mother figure, that’s why he kept going on those dates. He couldn’t believe how lucky he was to have met you, someone that not only loved him but loved his daughter too.

The bell sounded, announcing the end of the classes for the day. They pushed the front doors of the building open, and you observed kids running out, excited that school was finally over. Your eyes caught the little brunette, she was peacefully walking with a blonde kid beside her.

“Becca!” you tried to catch her attention when you saw she was looking around looking for her father. When her eyes landed on you, a big smile grew on her face.

“Who’s that, Bec?” asked the boy who was still beside her.

“That’s my mom,” Rebecca replied, and with that she ran towards you without bidding goodbye to her friend. You picked her up in your arms, her little arms wrapped around your neck.

You asked, “Had fun at school?” She furiously nodded as she rambled on about what she had done, “…and Miss Larson asked a super hard question and I was the only one who knew the answer.”

“That’s my girl,” you high-fived with her as she laughed.

“Why did you come today?” she asked, tilting her face.

“Your dad is busy at work, so he’s gonna come home late.”

“So you’re gonna stay with me then?” she asked, hope and excitement clear in her voice.

You just nodded and she let a victorious sound escape her mouth. You laughed putting her on the ground and grabbed her tiny hand in yours. “Ready to go home?”

It was late at night when Bucky came home, when he noticed you weren’t in the living room he made his way upstairs to see the adorable image of you and Becca sitting on her bed, his daughter between your legs while you brushed her hair.

Neither of you had noticed his presence yet, he smiled at the view in front of him, how comfortable you were with each other, it was so natural. The thought of coming home every day to this filled his heart with warmth.

Knock Knock

“Daddy!” Rebecca screamed when she saw her father on the doorstep of her room, but she didn’t run and jump into his arms like she would normally do.

“What? No hug today?” Bucky pouted, which made his little girl giggle.

Rebecca pinched her nose with her fingers “You stink, daddy!”

Bucky gasped with fake offense and averted his gaze to you for support, only to receive a “Don’t look at me, Becca is right.”

Your boyfriend raised his hands in surrender. “Alright, I’ll take a shower, but you, young lady, are going to sleep now,” he said, pointing his index finger towards his daughter.

“But Y/N is brushing my hair!” she whined.

“She can brush your hair another day. You’ve got to wake up early for school tomorrow,”

Rebecca looked up at you, “Can you read to me?”

“Honey, I bet Y/N is tir-” But you didn’t let your boyfriend finish his sentence. “I don’t mind.”

“Yaaay,” the little girl screamed happily. She got up from the bed and ran to get a book.

Your boyfriend gave you a “Are you sure?” look.

“It’s okay,” you reassured him, “You go shower.” Bucky nodded and left the room as Rebecca crawled back to bed and handed you a book.

She got under the covers, and you lied beside her, opening the book and started reading. “The little prince. Oh, I love this one.”

Once Rebecca finally fell asleep, you gave her a soft kiss on her forehead and made your way downstairs. Your boyfriend had finished his shower just a few minutes ago, his hair still damp.

“She’s asleep?” he inquired, his arms wrapped around your figure. You buried your face in the crook of his neck, taking in the scent of sandalwood and bergamot. You hummed in response. “Thank you for today.” At this you pulled away from him, looking at his soft features.

“It’s not a problem. You know I love spending time with her.”

“I know. And I love you for that,” he caressed your face and pulled you in again. Joining his lips with yours, your hands reached the back of his neck and you tangled your fingers into his wet hair, earning a low moan from him. You smiled into the kiss, giving him a last peck before pulling apart.

You both sat on the couch, your head resting on Bucky’s shoulder and one of your hands on his round belly, drawing patterns with your fingers. He had one arm safely around you. As you were telling him your day with Becca, he noticed that in the tone of your voice, there was something bothering you in the back of your mind.

“Hey,” he gently grabbed your chin with his free hand and made you look at him. “What’s wrong?”

You licked your lips, a habit you had developed years ago and something you always did when you were nervous. You could feel Bucky’s eyes piercing into yours. A worried expression etched on his features. “Did Becca say something to you?”

You shook your head. Swallowing hard, you tried to find the right words, not wanting your boyfriend to misinterpret what you wanted to convey. “It’s just… today, when I went to pick Becca from school, there was this kid with her and when he asked her who I was, she said that...she said that I was her mom,” You weren’t bothered or mad about the little girl referring to you as her mother but to say it didn’t shock you when you heard the words leave her mouth. Especially because it was the first time she did it.

You loved Rebecca the minute you met her; she was an adorable kid, and you of course you had thought about spending time with Bucky and her for the rest of your life, but you didn’t know if that wasn’t something she wanted, if it was something Bucky wanted. So when you heard the little girl refer to you as her mom, something fluttered inside you.

“Did she?” You could see the slight surprise on his face, but still a large smile grew on Bucky’s face and you felt like you could sigh in relief. He didn’t seem to be bothered by it. Quite the opposite, actually. “How do you feel about it?”

“I- I really liked it,” you shyly admitted, a matching smile growing on your face.

“Yeah?” he asked again. He just needed to be sure, the smile never leaving his face.

“Yeah,” you laughed happily. Bucky caressed your cheek with his thumb, and shifted your position on the sofa a little, to have better access to your lips. It was soft and sweet, nothing in the world existed but you two, you could feel fireworks exploding inside of you. Kissing Bucky always felt special and magical, but this kiss had something different, something you couldn’t explain with words.

“Every time I’m with you, there’s no other place I’d rather be. You are my world, my everything, and I’d love to do nothing more than make you happy. Becca loves you, and she could never have a better mom than you. I love you, Y/N, and I want to spend the rest of my life with you. So I’m asking...will you marry me?”

#chubby!bucky #bucky barnes #bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes imagine #bucky barnes x you #bucky barnes x y/n #bucky barnes one shot #bucky barnes fic #bucky barnes fanfic #sebastian stan #sebastian stan x reader #sebastian stan imagine

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asciendo · 3 years ago

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The Return

Jean was the cocky bastard that walked around like he owned the place. Y/N couldn’t stand him so when the time came that you were his sparring partner, you couldn’t wait to teach him a lesson.

Little did the both of you know, that sparring match would be the start of your unexpected relationship with Jean Kirschtein, that will change your life, and the rest of the Scout Regiment forever.

Chapter 1/Chapter 2/Chapter 3/Chapter 4/Chapter 5/Chapter 6/Chapter 7/Chapter 8/Chapter 9/Chapter 10/Chapter 11/Chapter 12/Chapter 13/Chapter 14/Chapter 15/Chapter 16/Chapter 17/Chapter 18/Chapter 20

Tag list: @empty-glass-full-of-emotion @dai-tsukki-desu @usernamehere91@princess-peaches1 @thestrugglesofateenagedirtbag

The Scouts have only been gone for a few days but to you it felt like it had been years since they left.

The other cadets back at HQ tried to keep you company, playing card games, or cooking for you, you appreciated their efforts but couldn't shake the thoughts of the expedition.

You weren't sleeping well, thoughts of the worst things that could happen to the Scouts plagues your mind every night. Thoughts of pain, destruction and death were all you could muster.

Then there were thoughts of Jean. You knew he was reluctant to go, leaving you behind in your state. But one of the things you admired about him was deep down, he was the bravest person you've ever met. Seeing his growth from the cocky bastard you couldn't stand to the man who would sacrifice everything for his team, you couldn't ask for more.

As you sighed staring at the gate like you did every day, you pictured him walking through the large doors and into your arms.

Suddenly, there was yelling.

"THEY'RE BACK!" One of the soldiers announced and your heart rose. They're back. They're home. Jean is home.

As the gates opened, your heart immediately dropped. There were so few of them, you could count the survivors with both of your hands.

You ran down from where you were seated onto the main area. You see Captain Levi and Hange, both had solemn faces, but Hange's face brightened up a bit when she saw you. Where was Commander Erwin, you thought.

Floch trudged behind them angrily, he was looking at the ground and cursing under his breath. Suddenly, you see someone being carried in a stretcher and you freeze. You walk closer and see Sasha. Her eyes are barely open but she tugs on your hand as you approach.

"W-what happened?" you whisper and she smiles. "I'm fine...I promise...just need some bread.." she mutters and you smile. Despite being injured, she's still thinking about food.

You turn around and see Armin, Eren and Mikasa. Armin smiles sadly at you and Eren looks more distant than usual.

"Y/N..." Armin begins. "There's something you should know..." he begins and your heart drops. You haven't seen Jean yet. Is he okay? Is he...alive?

"Not now Armin..." Mikasa scolds and Armin nods, gives you a hug and walks passed you. Mikasa hugs you as well and Eren places a hand on your shoulder. You suddenly feel someone grabbing you and hugging you from behind and you turn around to see Connie.

"Connie! I'm so happy you're alright!" You hug him back and Connie laughs. "Wow, seeing your face has got to be the best thing that's happened the past few days." He looks down and plays with his fingers.

"Connie...just tell me what happened. Armin was about to tell me something but Mikasa stopped him. Is it Jean? Is he—"

"Y/N." you froze. You could recognize that voice anywhere. You turn and there he is. Jean was standing with his shirt battered, dirt on his cheeks, and cuts on his face. But he was here. He survived. You felt tears in your eyes at the sight of him and you've never been so thankful in your life.

You started jogging towards him and his frown curved up into a smile. He grabbed you and kissed you and you swear you've never been happier.

"YUCK!" Connie yells from behind you and you roll your eyes at him. Jean cups your face and slowly wipes the tears that were streaming down your cheeks.

"I though you—"

"I told you I'd never leave you right?" He whispers and you nod. He pulls you in once more and places a kiss on your forehead.

"What happened? Where's Erwin?" You ask and the look on Jean's face tells you everything. He was dead.

"Is that what Armin was trying to tell me? That he was gone?" Jean looks at you with sadness and you knew there was something more. Jean couldn't speak. He didn't know how to tell you Bertholdt was dead and how Armin was now the Colossal Titan.

"Come with me to my room?" He asked and you nodded.

As you got to his room, you plopped on his bed and Jean snaked himself next to you.

"Bertholdt is dead." He states and your eyes shot open. You didn't think it would affect you after everything but you felt a heaviness in your chest.

You were trying not to react, knowing how Jean felt about him and Reiner betraying you. "Don't hold it in. It's alright." Jean states and you close your eyes once more as your tears come back.

"Shit." He mutters and he brings his arms around you and wraps his whole body around yours.

He tells you everything, how Armin is now the Colossal Titan, about Erwin, the things they found in the Eren's basement.

"I feel terrible...I wasn't there—"

"Don't." Jean cuts you off and you sigh. "Knowing you were back here...was what kept me going...if you weren't..." He trails off and rests his head on your stomach.

"What kind of world is this, Y/N? What do we even do now..." Jean closes his eyes.

"I don't what's going to happen to us. There's no light. Nothing. No hope—" he suddenly stops and stares at your stomach.

"Y/N...I felt something." Jean stares at your stomach in disbelief. "The baby is kicking." You smile and Jean looks up at you. Staring back at your stomach you see the tears start to form in his eyes.

"Jean, are you okay?" You giggle and nods slowly.

"I have hope. There's hope." He whispers and you can see that something in him has changed.

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first-only · 3 years ago

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I've always been curious - what are your favorite ships?

under the cut bc its rambly and No One Cares about my old ass fandoms that were seasonal for most people but stuck with me for some reason and also to maybe avoid showing up in searches/tags for the rare person looking for Content

i guess the most Hardcore ive ever shipped is mcreyes (yes, overwatch i know), they consumed me with a rage that pretty much burned me out of fandom (tho i still ship it, i just literally never found anyone that sees them the same way i do - non-fanon compliant it is for me). along with them i also have somva and widowana and of course shimadacest, its just the Polycule living in my head [i guess i should point out i broke up w canon after the like first year of development ie after the great retconning so i neither know nor care whats happening there, these characters are basically (schrodinger's) ocs at this point]

the other fandom i am Too invested in is, tragically, dragon age, which i still sorta indulge in some Canon for (i apologize for whats likely going to happen to this blog once the next game comes out lmao). My ships there are mostly OC/canon, as the games sorta lead into. Anora/Zevran/Cousland (and cousland/loghain, and cousland/fergus...); Carver/Hawke/Isabela (/qp!Anders) [well and just some good old hawke/anders really], and Dorian/Trevelyan/Blackwall (/qp!Vivienne) are my mains.

dragon age leads to mass effect, where i fell head over for shakarian which i will fight for to my last breath i do not give a fuck. and also ashlaw wich i literally had to invent a shipname for cuz nobody else cares about it lmao (ashley and miranda if anyone even knows the franchise here lol)

i think more obvious is my love for star wars, i ship just the entire pentacule in the prequels/clone wars - obi/ani/padme/ahsoka/sabine. han/leia/luke(/lando?) for the og trilogy and reylo and finn/rose/poe in the new one (tho thanks to fandom im much less invested in finnpoe)

ive been in like a few fandoms that were wild and strong but didnt last - red dead where i shipped john/arthur/abigail; detroit become human where hannor ate my brains. pathfinder and divinity original sin which literally did not have a fandom, but i will tell you i very much ship my mains with amiri/octavia/regongar (in kingmaker) and camellia/daeran (in wotr);. in divinity Lohse/Sebille and Fane/Ifan are the other polycule plaguing me. oh and pillars of eternity with devil of caroc/maneha/PC tho i eventually ended up pairing up aloth w my pc in deadfire

real talk tho, the most recent thing close to an Obsession is fucking league of legends (yes i know) where its swain/darius/draven; yasuo/yone/taliyah; kayn/zed; and some good old lucian/senna. i mean you've seen the TF/Graves art this shouldnt be a surprise lol

and yeah in Arcane its silco/jinx/vi/vander

But mostly lately ive been merrily making DnD OCs and playing Rimworld which allows for amazing characters so it's kinda OC season i guess

oh and as an end to this rant which everyone gave up on reading im sure - i'll leave you with the fact that what got me into real fandom communities was itasasu (/saku and/or karin sometimes) and wincest (/jack) has been a latent interest even tho spn has never been high on my interests list so do with that what you will lol

#ask #is it social circle hour around here?#not that i mind i enjoy the attention just ive rarely gotten so much lol #thank you for the messages nonnie(s?)#i mean i obviously have more things i Ship #most recently interested in blackbeard/izzy in ofmd (maybe even w stede who knows)#but like it doesnt haunt me at night ya know

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imma-potatoo · 4 years ago

Note

For the bthb, may I request Logan and U!Patton with Thrown Down The Stairs? Maybe with some Remus or Janus comfort later? Idk, I just like your writing style and am crazy for Logan angst.

@badthingshappenbingo

Send me a prompt with a character! Please specify ships! No romantic prinxeity, r*mr*m or U!Janus and U!Logan please!

You wanted Logan angst? You got Logan angst~

Prompt: thrown down the stairs.

Warnings: U!Patton, blood, gore, choking, scratching at throat, concussion, thrown down stairs, pinning, graphic abuse, punching, slapping, ask to tag

(I'm really sorry this took so long. Wifi problems and family shit)

-----

Love

----

Logan walked out of his room, humming a small song (Crofters the Musical, but that was only for him to know) dress shoes clicking softly on the wooden floors while he skimmed over the book in his hands. The mindscape was just as bustling as usual, he could hear Janus lecturing Remus in the darker half of the mind about how stealing Roman’s sword and turning it into a dagger was inappropriate and that he’ll have to make Roman a new one. Roman himself was sulking in his room playing Burn from Hamilton on loop because “Remus is dead to me like Hamilton was dead to Eliza”…. Logan didn’t get it. Virgil’s music was turned on max; like always but this time he was trying to drown out Roman’s complaints with My Chemical Romance. Patton was most likely baking in the kitchen once again.

Logan flipped open to the page he left off on; he had just started this book so he wasn’t too far in. He couldn’t help the grin that spread on his face as he started to read,

The person who was supposed to love me the hardest-the most unconditionally-has always wanted me gone. No matter how hard I tried to be perfect. Now, this boy-who knows all my imperfections and has seen all my hurt laid bare-wants me to sta- Logan’s reading was interrupted by a door clicking open.

Logan looked up to see Patton closing his bedroom door. An ear to ear grin plastered on his face, it was a little too much teeth for his comfort. Patton locked eyes with the blue side, “Hiya kiddo!”

Logan slipped his bookmark back into the thin pages, “Greetings Patton.” Logan waited for a second or two for Patton to walk beside him; after all, when someone comes out of their door, you have to wait for the other to join you on your walk.

And Patton did, they started towards the staircase; Logan tracing the book pages with his fingers. “So! Where ya headed kiddo?!” Logan had always thought Patton was a little too cheery for his tastes, but that was just the father’s personality, he couldn’t change that.

“I’m headed to the imagination to read,” for a brief second, Logan forgot who I was talking to, “It's actually quite an interesting book! The Dangerous Art of Blending In is considered a must-read for pride month and is based on the author's true story,” Logan continued to talk; eyes twinkling with excitement and pure joy as he went on to explain the main character’s arc so far.

The blue side steeled his expression to his happy grin, “That sounds interesting kiddo! Can I see it?”

Logan grew stiff, but continued walking with Patton until they made it to the top of the stairs, Logan shifted his eyes downward and handed the book to Patton. Morality swiped the book straight out of Logan’s hands, he pulled it open to a random page and started to read. Logan watched in horror as the older side’s expression shifted from mild curiosity to confusion, to disgust, and finally to anger.

“Why are you reading these horrible things, Logan?” Patton’s smile was gone, eyes cold and disapproving as he stared into Logan’s eyes. “This is something Remus would read. Why. Are. You. Reading. It.” Patton stood tall, teeth formed into a sneer as he stepped closer.

Logan took a small step backward, “I-I-”

“Shut up.” Logan hit the wall when Patton hissed through his teeth, “Come on Lo-Lo! If you read stuff like this, you’re just as bad as Remus and Janus! You don’t want to be like them, do you?” Patton was inches away from Logan’s face. His breath hot on his skin, raising the hair on the back of his neck.

Logan gulped, his Adam's apple bobbing up and down. “W-well, I thought that Even and Henry’s story was a sweet story about overcoming hardships, even when you’re put in a bad si-” The stinging pain of Patton’s hand hitting his face stopped him in his tracks. Tears leaked down as Logan raised his hand to his cheek.

Logan looked at Patton with wide eyes, “y-yo-” The blunt end of a punch struck his face, Logan could only stand in shock as he felt his lip start to leak crimson, “Patton stop!”

The so-called father pushed his hand against Logan’s neck, keeping him in place even while Logan clawed at his hand and own throat, attempting to pry Patton off. His nails dug into his flesh, small warm droplets of blood pricking out of the skin as Patton tightened his hold.

“You, Lo-Lo-Bear, need to learn when to shut up~” Logan was sure that his neck was going to be bruised, all he could do was wheeze a suffocated breath in response. Patton applied his sugar-sweet smile once more, looking into Logan’s eyes with a twisted fascination.

Logan attempted to speak, he knew that he couldn’t. But words were his weapon. Without his voice he was helpless, and he refused to give in to the father figure’s torment. Patton had always been particularly touchy, touching them when it wasn’t necessary. Hands grazing over their shoulders or swiping things from their hand to look it over. Patton had also always been particularly violent. Pushing them against walls over little things and whispering threats. It didn’t make these situations any less terrifying though. And this was the first time Patton had taken it this far.

Logan’s hands were covered in blood. His blood. Gore covered his fingers and Patton’s hand, a few small beads hitting the floor; as well as Patton’s cartoon-themed sneakers. Long thin scratches ran up and down his neck, his nails had thick pieces of skin underneath the nails.

Patton raised an eyebrow at the side’s attempt to pry him off, he huffed a breath and let go of Logan’s neck.

Logic fell against the wall, hands immediately wrapping around the sluggish bleeding at his neck, Logan breathed in short ragged breaths eyes wide and staring at the floor. Breathing in the sweet addiction of oxygen.

Patton smiled, eyes skewed shut while the side on the floor held himself tightly. “There! Didn’t you learn your lesson kiddo?” Patton waited a second or two for Logan to respond, his breathing calm and steady as he swirled the crimson liquid on his hand. “Right kiddo?” Patton bore his cold eyes onto the crumbled side, he barely waited a second before seizing Logan’s wrist and pulling him to his feet.

The cyan side held Logan by his tie, right in front of the staircase. Logan could barely process anything before the side in front of him smiled, locking his eyes. And then, he let go and pushed Logan down the steps.

Logan fell, hitting almost every stair on his way down. He could feel his blood vessels burst as his arms scraped on the wooden railing, splinters indenting into his flesh. His head spun when it hit the stairs, glasses flying off. Logan could barely tell what was happening to him as he hit his head repeatedly, he knew that he heard a crunch from his left arm and right leg when he hit the bottom landing.

Logan laid on his face, breathing hard and rapidly. His mind was fogged over, no coherent thought could pass through as the ringing sound that suddenly plagued his mind filled his senses. He couldn’t hear his father figure climb down the steps, taking care to step over the blood spatters that covered them.

Patton poked Logan in the ribs with his shoe, giggling when the side groaned in pain. “You really should be more careful kiddo! Stairs can be pretty dangerous you know!” The cyan side took one last look at his victim before pulling Logan’s book from his pocket.

Patton opened the book to its center point, before grabbing each side of the novel and ripping it in half. Pages floated down like butterfly wings, gracefully falling as they surrounded the broken side in bitter mockery of the book. Patton threw what was remaining of the book onto Logan, his demeanor just as peppy and upbeat as ever, even while covered in another’s blood.

“You really need to be more careful with your possessions, Logic, such a tragedy, you know I love a good book.” Patton walked back up the staircase to his bedroom, while Welcome to the Black Parade blasted from Virgil’s speakers, Logan barely responded to the father figments door slamming.

Logan had no idea of how long he let his blood stain the carpet, but his mind grew even fuzzier as the room grew black. He allowed the sweet bliss of sleep to cloud his function telling him to stay awake. He closed his eyes, only to have someone shake him.

“-GAN! LOGAN WAKE UP!” The panicked voice of the deceitful side flooded his head, he tried to force his eyes open; muscles spasming. “There we go! Come on starlight! Stay awake! Remus is coming back with the medkit! Just stay with me!” Logan followed his voice, the smoothness and composed attitude of the yellow side was gone. Logan hated seeing the silver-tongued side like that.

“I-I see you have a copy of The Dangerous Art of Blending In! It’s such a good book right! I l-ove how the author wrote Henry! Don’t you? Come on Logan, stay awake!” Logan looked into the terrified side’s eyes. The enchanting yellow and brown eyes kept his focus even if they were clouded in fear, he wondered why he never noticed the flecks of green surrounding the slivered pupil before.

“I GOT THE MEDKIT!” The horse voice of Remus broke his concentration on the pretty eyes, why did everyone call Janus a monster anyway? Was it the scales? Logan could only wonder as the two dark sides hastily applied the first aid. Voices scared and rushed as they faded into the background, Logan could only focus on how Remus’ mustache was perfectly curled into its position, even when it was soaked in tears. Tears? Why were they crying? Patton said that they were monsters, and monsters don’t cry. Then again, monsters don’t help people either…

Logan watched the two sides dig into the kit as fast as they could. Janus even removed his gloves.

Logan gazed at them tiredly, mouth lightly sagged open, “There we go! I think we can move him now Jan!” “Good! Let’s get him out of here before Patton comes back, I think he did this…”

Logan could feel his body raising to meet the ruffles of Remus’ tunic. The small teeth that embellished the ends of the fasteners rubbed against his shoulder. He didn’t have the energy to make any noise as the two sides took him back to their side.

He doubted he would ever return to the picture-perfect family he once belonged to ever again. He had his actual family, ready to help him through everything.

Janus bought him a new copy of his book too.

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frillshark-fr · 4 years ago

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How do you get people to always buy your dragons? Genuine question

i was gonna say something like “haha i have no fucking clue” but that would be a lie i think about this a lot actually so i might have some insights i’ve been breeding dragons as my primary activity on FR since i started playing FR (in 2014...) and people have only started actually buying dragons from me consistently like, 5-6 months ago, despite 2-3 attempts at running a genuine hatchery onsite that always died due to lack of interest & not really being worth the effort.

so ive thought a lot about what the hell is happening now and why my dragons are suddenly consistently selling and I think ive come down to these being the main points of advice i can give: 1. make friends! be friendly! don’t be weird! be a cool and fun person to interact with! 2. post consistently. post your dragons consistently. post about other stuff consistently. just be an active member of the community 3. POST YOUR SHIT IN THE “#FLIGHT RISING” TAG. THIS IS PROBABLY THE ONLY TRUELY HELPFUL THING I SAY IN THIS POST 4. make pairs that are sexy as hell and be openly proud of them. make dragons and pairs that you like, not what you think will necessarily sell. people can tell when you like stuff and being genuinely passionate about something, whatever the fuck it is, will get other people passionate as well longer versions/explanations under the cut because man this got a mile long. i wasn’t kidding when i said i think about this a lot and i am so sorry if you wanted something concise and useful

1. to be a little glib. i am mutuals/friends with more clout in the FR community than I do kjdshfdsfdhjhkfdf shoutout to everyone who draws their dragons really good on a regular basis because i am riding on your coattails to sell my dragons. i love you this was never my intent, obviously! DO NOT BEFRIEND PEOPLE BECAUSE YOU THINK YOU WILL GET STUFF FROM THEM IT’S JUST A REALLY BAD THING TO DO TO PEOPLE!!! i wouldn’t be friends w/ people if i didn’t genuinely like and get along with them! no amount of pixel cash is worth putting up with people you dont like or abusing people you admire! but i’d also somehow feel wrong to just... neglect mentioning this factor. idk it’s probably a self-esteem thing sjdkgfhdsf i just Don’t feel like my #success has been totally out of my own effort because its not like im #hustling or whatever i just posted dragons and stuff happened

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2. being consistent! just. posting consistently! posting Every Hatchling I Have and Talking About Them On Tumblr! Once I had a couple nests just sell super fast likely due to aforementioned clout, i was emboldened to just post more of my nests more often and I swear this has more effect than anything else. i just needed the self-esteem boost to Start Doing That posting consistently makes ppl follow u for ur content which gets even more people to look at your dragons which gets more people to buy your dragons.

2a. Also just post a lot in general, even if you aren’t necessarily posting about your dragons for sale. it definitely helps! just be friendly and active and people will come

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3. post your shit in the tag. not in “#dragon-sales” or “#fr-dragon-sales” or anything weird like that because I don’t know if anyone actually looks at those, but people definitely browse “#flight rising”. no matter how many followers you have, more people will see your content if you post it in #flight rising than if you just chuck it into the void.

3a. however! do not put links into the post if you want it to actually show up in the tag. tumblr is cool in that it doesn’t actually matter that much when you post something, the same way it really matters on twitter bc twitter has algorithms that decide for you what it thinks you want to be seeing whereas tumblr just shows you everything in chronological order. if you post something into the tag at 1am... it will still be there at 2pm when people log on and start scrolling.

the only thing tumblr seems to consistently hide from a tag (and possibly a dashboard, but idk) are posts with links in them, as a half-assed attempt to limit spam. instead of linking to your sales tab/to the dragons directly in the post, reblog it with the links instead. to reduce latency between a post going up and the links being available, i type out the links in the initial post, cut them, post the thing into the tag, then very quickly reblog, paste the links, and post the reblog jdhfsdf. i don’t know if that benefits anything really? but it can sometimes take me a while to type links, so if i posted, pressed reblog, typed up all the links, then posted, it’d be like ~15 minutes where someone may see the post, think “oh i would like to buy those dragons”, then can’t find the link, think “oh well, i will just find it later”, scroll on, and just... completely forget about it. so uh. go quick?

3b. the armchair sociologist in me also thinks self-reblogging has the added benefit of like... you know how people are more likely to tip a barista when a dollar is already in the tip jar? or how people are more likely to take one of those little tabs on a flyer if one of them is already missing? i think that works with notes, too. i don’t know why i think that or why it happens i just swear once a post gets 1 note, suddenly it gets Even More Notes, and if it doesn’t get any notes for a while it will sit at 0 notes until the end of time. so giving yourself 1 obligatory note makes people more likely to interact. i think

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4. all of these are hard to quantify but this one is especially so: have cool and unique dragons. make your pairs sexy as hell. don’t put all your eggs (hah) into the one basket of selling dragons that are technically “popular”. we have all seen triple white/triple obsidian/triple orca/triple any other popular colors and cherub/pere/stained or wasp/bee/glim pthahlos or whatever. they’re pretty! we get it! but everyone has had one and everyone has had those pairs and market for dragons like that can be super oversaturated. try to break free from that and sell dragons that people can only get from you. I can’t tell you what to do though bc that rly depends on you. make pairs that you find exciting or interesting and people will feel that. i have a very specific theme and aesthetic that i don’t feel like is especially common on FR and i am genuinely very enthusiastic about it. marine shit is my Thing:tm: both on and off FR and dragons are one of my many ways of expressing that if you have a Thing:tm:, either some fr-centric aesthetic (like being super into plague or earth or light or something) or something more general (such as any of the -punks or -cores)... just fuckin roll with it honestly. if you’re goth? make got h dragons. like scene stuff that looks straight out of a middle school in 2010? rock that hot-topic lair. outdoorsey type? make dragons that look like you’d meet them on a hike in the woods. it really works with anything! people can tell when you really love something and i know that seeing someone really love something, even if it’s not necessarily MY thing, makes me really excited too!!

4a. never show fear. people can smell fear. never be like “well this one isn’t that good” because suddenly now you’ve planted the idea that it’s ugly in other people’s heads when they may have really liked it had you not accidentally suggested to them that it’s an ugly dragon. people are EXTREMELY suggestible to even VERY minor cues so be always a little bit bolder than you think you should be you’d be surprised at how many times ive been like “eh, this one’s kind of a dud, i’ll probably have to exalt this one when the auction expires” and then that hatchling is the first to sell. never ever ever ever decide what other people like for them. always act like your dragons are the hottest shit in all the land and Believe It. this is what people mean when they say “fake it till you make it”

- 4b. also, idk if it’s true of everyone but it’s really off-putting to see someone having serious pity-parties for themselves, on sales posts or otherwise. ive had bad experiences with people who are uncomfortably quick to self-depreciate (because they were using their genuine self-hatred to manipulate me or my friends), so i might be a little more trigger-happy about avoiding this behavior than others, but don’t weaponize your sadness to guilt people into doing what you want. it’s really not cool.

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okay i think that’s my entire manifesto on how i do dragon selling. anon i am so sorry im sure you were expecting like “believe in yourself :)” and here i am dissecting dragon selling like it’s a frog in a science class

edit: AFTER ALL THAT I STILL THOUGHT OF ONE MORE THING. It’s not really a Point, just a Reminder:

i don’t post about all the times i have to exalt dragons that don’t sell. you are seeing me being very selective about what i post. you dont sit and stare at my lair or click through offspring lists or check old sales posts. there are a lot of times where someone just doesn’t sell. even now when i’m selling stuff pretty consistently i will still sometimes have dragons that don’t sell for seemingly no reason. even dragons I think are sure to sell will sometimes just... not. and that’s ok! you gotta just be.. ok with that. it’s par for the course. i typically list dragons for 7 days on the AH, give them a couple more days after their auction expires (partially because i forget, partially to give them a grace period for people to pm/ask me about them), and then exalt them after that point. w/ some dragons that i don’t think got a fair shake for one reason or another (such as the sales post not showing up in the tag or something) i do a little clearance (like the halloween dragons i recently posted) but for the most part if they don’t sell, i just exalt them. 90% of the time i don’t even bother to level them up i just press the exalt button and call it a day. it’s fine

#if anyone is interested i can make a post about my process for finding new dragon pairs?#i’d just include it here but this post is long enough as it is oo;;#Anonymous

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gaythingliker69 · 4 years ago

Text

Introspection

Hey, so this is quite different to what Id normally write. It’s the old draft that I deleted I talked about a while ago. Please give feedback, cause it’s the only non fic thing I’ve ever posted. And if you like it, please reblog, I’m not really sure what to tag it and I want it to get out there.

CW: violence, misogyny, alcohol, body horror, horror themes

———

Josh woke up to a pounding headache. He tried to swallow only for that to hurt too. He tried to turn on the bedside lamp, only to cower from its feeble light. He turned it off, and rolled onto the other side of the bed, groaning. He searched back through his mind, trying to think where he’d been, who he’d been with, what he’d drunk, only to find nothing. Fucking hell, he was getting too old for this. A guy well into his twenties going and getting blackout drunk once, sometimes twice a week. But that was the only way he ever got any release. He couldn’t afford tickets for the football anymore, and he only ever seemed to see other people at work. He stayed on his side for a few more minutes, before hauling himself to his feet and dragging himself into the kitchen.

Josh grabbed a glass, desperate for a drink. He turned the tap, but nothing. The water was gone. There was always an issue - gas, electricity, water, the phone lines… always. He sighed again. Coffee. That was normally a good starter to getting rid of a headache, and some sugar in it wouldn’t do any harm. He opened the cupboard to get the coffee, only to find nothing. He groaned. To the shops it was then. Maybe they’d get the water fixed while he was out.

Josh pulled on a pair of tracksuit bottoms, an old t-shirt for a band he hadn’t listened to in years, and a hoodie. He pulled up the hood, pulled the drawstrings tight, and set off, trudging through the overcast late morning. He reached the supermarket, an Aldi situated just off a main road by his apartment building. He made his way through the doors, looking up to scan the shelves. The empty shelves. There was nothing - no food, drink, the famous middle aisle left derelict. Then he realised there was no one there either. No confused shoppers, no apologetic workers dealing with the customers’ ire. Nothing. It was quiet. Too quiet. He realised the car park was empty, and there was no noise of engines from the road. There hadn’t been on his whole walk. He’d been stuck in a hungover stupor, so hadn’t noticed, but the silence was so complete it was eerie. It swallowed up any noise he made in an instant. Josh felt his stomach pitch and his heartbeat quicken. This wasn’t right. None of it was.

His wretched state temporarily forgotten, Josh set out on a jog for what counted as the town centre. A grey area plagued by empty lots and a distinct lack of character. He ran into McDonald’s first. Nothing. No cashiers, no customers, no noise from the kitchen. Panicking, he ran into the Cancer Research UK shop, the Halifax bank, and the only sort of upmarket restaurant he could think of, an Italian called Silvio’s. Empty seats. Empty shelves. Empty desks. Empty counters. Everything was empty. There was nothing and no one left.

Josh walked toward the centre of the town, an open plaza with a statue of the town’s founder at its centre. He was some English general from hundreds of years ago, stood with his arms folded, looking over his concrete empire. He was made of slate, the only thing that wasn’t concrete or Tarmac. Yet he was still grey. Josh sat on a bench, back to the statue, and put his head in his hands. He cried. For the first time in what felt like years, tears flooded down his cheeks. They ran off his cheeks, settling on the floor below him, the only signs of life in the abandoned world he now found himself in.

“Why? Why me? What’s happening?” he cried.

“Have you been unable to make sense of your situation, Joshua Bowyer?”

Josh looked around , startled. Who was it, and why did they address him like that? The voice rasped out of the air, as if the speaker was in immense pain as they spoke.

“W-who are you? Show yourself!” Josh shouted. He sounded pathetic. His shaking voice echoed around the plaza, his weakness taunting him.

A great crash rang out. Josh shot to his feet, startled, and turned to see the slate of the statue crashing to the floor. There was the outline of a shin, as if the statue were hollow. He turned to face the slate baron, and jumped again at a finger falling, again hollow on the inside.

The slate began to flake away before him. Forearms, shoulders, the jacket he wore on his torso, and the ridiculous wig on the state’s head, all falling to the floor. Some shattered. Some lay whole. But Josh hardly noticed.

Beneath the slate was a body, but no flesh. White bone visible under layers of muscle, cartilage, and veins. Organs on full display, lungs inflating and deflating, heart pumping. All suspended in midair, not collapsing despite gravity’s best efforts. The thing stayed still for a moment, and kicked out with its left leg. Slate flew past Josh’s head. Then the right foot. It was free. The smell of blood filled the air. The final piece of the statue that remained was the face, stern, painted by wrinkles and a frown. The thing raised it’s hands to its face, muscles visibly contracting and retracting all the way. It let out an almighty scream as it tore the slate away, splitting the silence of the town. It came away, and was thrown to the ground, shattering.

It’s face was the same as the rest of its body, skinless. It’s visible teeth barely caged it’s twitching tongue. It’s lumpish and grey brain was miraculously was still atop its stem and in its skull. Its eyes rolled and spasmed in its head, suffering from the light and dust. They stopped, and bore into Josh’s. They were red. Or incredibly bloodshot. It didn’t matter. It laughed, that rasp cutting through Josh once again.

Josh blinked, and the thing was stood barely a foot away from him. He recoiled, and tried to run. But he was frozen into place, staring at the creature’s awful features. The stench of blood was overpowering at this distance. Josh retched, the smell and aight combined proving too much.

“We have much to discuss, Joshua Bowyer.”

“W-what are you?” Josh sobbed.

“Me? I am The Ombudsman. It is unfortunate we should have to meet, Joshua Bowyer.”

“What are you talking about? Where am I?”

“The Ombudsman’s duty is to hand down punishment,” it continued, as if it hadn’t heard him. “I only deal with the most… reprehensible of scum you humans produce.”

“What are you talking about? I’m not a crim-“

Memories. Flooding in, incoherent at first. Then forming a story.

The kebab house was bustling. Being over the road from a pub will do that, especially when the pub kicks out. Groups and couples stood or walked, shovelling in food in their alcohol infused daze. Cars drove past occasionally, and a Kasabian song could be heard drifting into the street from the kebab shop. A taxi pulled away, and two guys, probably not ok enough to get served, hoisted with paper cutlery from the shop. The air felt light, and everyone was relaxed.

Josh, however, wasn’t relaxed. She’d rejected him, gone off with her friend, probably just some girl she was pretending to know to get away from him. He was only trying to be nice, fucking bitch. His chest tightened, and his grip on the pint glass did too. He downed the dregs, and looked to the bar. Closed. He’d wasted all his time on that bitch.

There was a group of girls stood outside. Laughing. How could they laugh? This night was shit. The red mist descended. He’d show them, fucking show them all. He marched outside. The was a shattering of glass, screaming, blood. She stumbled backwards. A car turned the corner as she fell.

Josh fell to his knees, tears pouring down his cheeks.

“You see now what you have done?”

Josh’s tears gave the answer. Him. A killer.

“Amelia Salazar. 18 years old. She is due to go to the University of York in September to study English. Or she was.”

The rasp turned from mournful and sad, to one filled with hatred and scorn. She’d never study anywhere. All because of Josh.

“So, perhaps now you see, prison is perhaps not sufficient. So you will be left here for your Introspection. You will rot. You will pay for her life with your mind. Your length of Introspection is of no concern to you. By the time your term ends, there will be no ‘you’ to release.”

It suddenly reached out, pressing a bloody ‘palm’ to Josh’s face. It burned, white hot pain searing for a second. When the creature took its hand away, the imprint was left on Josh’s face, burning red against his pale skin.

“A marker. To let anyone who has the unfortunate fate to cross your spirit’s path know. I trust you will find your stay here enlightening.”

The creature disappeared. But Josh hardly noticed. Wrapped in crushing grief, he knew this was it. This was how it ended. He’d lie here, rot, maybe end up looking like that thing. He drowned in his misery.

#writing #horror #horror writing #original writing #original content #writeblr #writer #wtiters #writers on tumblr

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binickandros · 4 years ago

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Hey I know it was a few days ago you said this but I'm coming into your asks to also complain about how much they sidelined Nick in the Stand. I legitimately don't understand the creative choice to focus on Harold as the main character and sideline Nick and the other, bigger characters. Yes Owen Teague is a fantastic actor, he was amazing, but the decision was presumably made long before his casting. Why was this the Harold Lauder show whereas Nick was barely in it, I... don't understand :(

Stand ranting anon again: I just wanted to add that I would be fine with the amount of screen time Harold got, if all the other characters got the same amount, like if it was a 20 episode season and we could get a whole episode of Nick backstory, of Frannie etc. We only even saw Frannie pre-plague through the fence whilst Harold was creeping on her, which is really... Not Great. So yeah I just feel like it was bizarre they used their limited time in the way they did, very confused.

Listen, nonny, LISTEN: I may never be over this injustice. I am a CANCER, we hold GRUDGES, and you can consider this one fuckin well HELD. Uh this gets long sooo...

I watched the 94 miniseries when it aired and of course immediately loved Nick. Shortly after that I read the book for the first time and loved Nick even more (Larry is 2nd, then prob Fran, then Stu), and over the years I’ve rewatched the mini-series and re-read the book and I was always like “man, I’d love to see an adaptation of this without network TV limitations, just like dark and creepy and atmospheric, but with the good guys winning the day” as they do.

So fast forward to 2011 or whenever and there are tentative announcements of a movie. Eh, not great, nowhere near enough time. Then!! A limited series!! Which is just a miniseries made fancy.

My dumb ass: more time in Shoyo!! Maybe Rita AND Nadine!! More time with Fran and her dad!! Etc etc

Welp I guess I got one of those things, but at what cost!! A whole entire Lucy, and uh...p much everything else I might have wanted.

I was talking about this with someone else (you know who you are but don’t wanna tag you in case you, like me, avoid the mortifying ordeal of being known at all cost) and we were both like “okay what EXACTLY about our culture right now made the adapters here (including King’s own son, Owen) think that a story about good v. evil somehow needed to focus on the red pill incel????”

Like they obviously had some idea about making the story more diverse, but because of the way they then used those characters, it felt like performative with no substance.

Ralph Brentner is now a Native woman?? Love it!! She’s also a glorified extra until the last few episodes?? Oh pls fuck off.

Larry is Black?? Great! A Black main character!! Except of course he’s NOT because HAROLD IS.

Nick’s now Latino! Buuuut played by a hearing actor. Which actually only matters in principle because we’re going to try to sweep our bullshit decision-making under the rug by hardly having him on camera. Won’t show up till episode 3, gone by episode 6, in one 2-minute scene in episode 5. Good job, guys! *high fives all around the writers’ room*

I’d honestly like to see someone with way more time on their hands do a screen time comparison between Nick and Harold, or Harold and literally every other character on this show. They opened with Harold, he was in every episode in a major way, he got a CLOSING MONOLOGUE and MONTAGE of his LIFE, while Nick just blew up and then was mentioned a few times and that was it.

I mean I guess they attempted something meaningful by having him...looking at that picture or postcard before the bomb? Which was like someone on a boat, so was maybe his mom, or reminded him of his mom? But how the hell were we to know that, bc we got the piece of exposition about his mom from FLAGG in ONE SCENE, and we’d never seen that picture before, nor do we have any idea of the significance of “Silencio,” which was written on the picture and was the title of the episode. It was literally not meaningful AT ALL bc we as the audience didn’t know a goddamn thing about it, and it was “blink and you miss it.”

I thought 9 hours would give us more time for backstory. That’s what I was looking forward to. Like Fran burying her dad was sad bc duh he’s her DAD and he’s DEAD, but it’s so much more meaningful when you’ve seen them bonding. Even the 94 miniseries, which had to cut some stuff for time, showed us how close they were, and the scene of her stitching his shroud was heartbreaking.

How did Stu, a 45-year-old man (tho that’s James Marsden’s age and I think they mean for Stu to be younger), come to fall in love w Frannie, a 20ish-year-old girl?? Who knows! He saw her on the road and thought she was cute and I guess that was that. She’s a college student from Maine and he works in a calculator factory (or something idr) in East Texas and there’s a huge age difference, so what do they have in common? Ah fuck it who cares let’s see what Harold’s doing.

I just honestly would like to know the thought process here. I think. Let’s be real. This is what happens when your main creative team is nerdy white boys. They identify with Harold: he’s an “outsider,” he’s “misunderstood,” if only people hadn’t been so mean to him!

An adaptation created by 2 white dudes. A writers’ room with all white dudes, except ONE woman who, for all we know, was just there, again, as tokenism. This is what happens when white men create for themselves without any real input from women, POC, or members of the LGBT community. Because the “gay rep” on this show is a whole other rant.......

Anyway, nonny, I’m writing a Nick fic rn that will hopefully see the light of day soon, and it’s literally. All Nick. And an OC bc Nick deserves love too!! And no Julie does not count. I’m not saying that just as shameless self promotion, but also to show that I was so incensed by this bullshit adaptation that I’ve now written 35k words and they JUST LEFT SHOYO, all while starting school doing something I’ve never even dipped my toe into before, so it’s fairly intense work.

Justice for Nick Andros. He deserved better from the source material, and somehow an adaptation made in 2020 (when we should all know better) made it So. Much. Worse.

#anonymous #asked and answered #the stand #nick andros #the entire thing smacks of whiny white men #i guarantee if women had been more involved #and POC and the Gays #this adaptation would be entirely different #and we'd like it a WHOLE lot more #1 woman like pls #i've read enough horror stories #of women on writing staffs #with all white men #to know exactly how much input she had #hint: none to 'not much'#not any creative decisions i can promise you that

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saeysooo · 5 years ago

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♚ yandere arcana ; main 6 headcanons {crybaby} ||

♡ tw: psychological terror, possession, manipulation, murder ♡ gender-neutral / female apprentice

♜ asra alnazar ; tag, you’re it ♜

They were your master, you their apprentice; But that relationship wasn’t enough to suffice Asra. NOT EVEN CLOSE! They wanted to be yours... Or more so they wanted you to be theirs!

They would watch you through your windows... In fact, they would follow you everywhere! You were so perfect to them, especially whenever you would get undressed after a long day of training. Your soft skin, the adoring stare in your innocent gaze... And yet you had no idea who was watching you behind open curtains.

“You’re so cute! I can just cut you up!”

“Let’s go on an adventure together... What do you say, darling? No..? It’s funny how you think you have a choice!!”

“Then how about we play tag~? If I win, you’re mine. If you win... Well, you’re still mine! You’re mine, ALL MINE!! Run darling!! RUN!”

Maniacal laughter invaded your thoughts, crawling across your skin as you ran for you fragile little life.

They pushed you to the ground, holding you in their dominating grip. At a loss for words, it was too late to scream for help, cry. And even if you did, they wouldn’t let you go!! YOU LOST THE GAME!!

They had no idea before... That YOU were their poison; the bittersweet wonder that they were always searching for on all their adventures into the unknown. There was no way they can give up such a rare flower!

Fluffy, white hair tickled your cheek, their lips dragging across your skin, leaving the mark of their adoration upon you.

“My mother used to tell me that I should pick the best lover... Oh, I love it when I hear your breathing... I know that you won’t ever leave me!”

Where were you...? CAN ANYONE HEAR?! HELP, PLEASE!! ...Ha, you’re talking to yourself!! Silly apprentice, they trapped you in their oasis~!!

♜ julian devorak ; mad hatter ♜

He’s absolutely. Fucking. INSANE.

Julian Devorak was CRAZY for you! Perhaps it was the drugs he experimented with that drove him to his insanity... Or not!

“WHERE IS MY PRESCRIPTION?!”

Maybe it was just the sole factor that you were the only person that showed so much attention to him!! He drowned himself in your touch, the mere sight of you. There wasn’t anything he wouldn’t do just to hear you call him such endearing things; things only reserved for HIM!

“Wonderland is wherever you are, pumpkin!!”

There wasn’t one dream where you weren’t in it; driving him absolutely nuts. There were so many wondrous things the two of you would do: Skinny dipping in a rabbit hole, painting roses red with his blood, getting high together off helium. Or perhaps the two of you can get drunk off a blue caterpillar and fool around?

The feeling of you being in his mere presence made him want to tear the skin off of him, he wanted so badly just to hold you!!

“IT’S ALWAYS JULIAN NO, JULIAN PLEASE JUST LISTEN! Pumpkin, you DON’T UNDERSTAND! My brain is absolutely SCATTERED whenever you are around, can’t you see!?!”

And by lord how much he loved roleplaying in the bedroom with you. He would go as far as to make costumes and everything to get the scene he wanted to play out absolutely perfect!

“How about this~ Oh I know let’s do some improv acting!! It can be a drama! You can be Alice, and I’ll be the Mad Hatter!”

No matter who you told, nobody would accept or believe that Julian was absolutely insane. He was beyond a histrionic, and it was all because of you. You did this to him. You made him fall in love so fucking hard it drove him mad. WHAT HAVE YOU DONE?!

♜ nadia satrinava ; cake ♜

Everything about you was absolutely divine to the Countess. They would bend over backwards to make you happy, to have you stay in their loving gaze. Even if you wanted to leave... She wouldn’t allow it! Can’t you see?! YOU’RE ALL HERS!

Every night you would return home, Nadia felt as if a huge part of herself was missing. You were perfect to her, don’t get her wrong... But there was one ingredient to you missing that was stopping you from being absolutely divine: Her love.

You were warm to her like an oven, your kisses upon her cheek always so sweet like sugar. Your fingers were silk-like, every single time you touched her. Your skin tasted like buttercream and you smelled like vanilla! Every sense she felt around you was filled with empty calories... Calories that would never satisfy her until you were all hers.

You saw her as nothing but a friend... And oh how much she hated that. The thought of you not being more than such a berating title made her skin crawl, her jaw tightening with anger.

It was when you started dating someone else that she felt more than betrayal... Oh no she went ABSOLUTELY. FUCKING. MAD.

“I am NOT a piece of cake, flower!! How can you just discard me like I didn’t love you more than them?! HOW CAN YOU LEAVE ME WITH NOTHING BUT A FROSTED HEART THAT WAS SUPPOSE TO BE YOURS?!”

“I planned everything out perfectly when I was with you!! The dates, the outfits, the sex! ALL OF IT!!”

Nonetheless... she found a way to forgive you. That’s what a Countess does, forgive those who have made mistakes!! Oh how much you will miss your lover... But it will be okay! Soon you will have another!!

“I’m taking back what’s mine... And showing you a slice of heaven that you can have when you are mine. Not that you weren’t already mine~!”

♜ muriel of the kokhuri ; teddy bear ♜

What was once his cold, exposed heart? He couldn’t even remember anymore. Despite all his attempts to push you away, isolate himself once more... You showed him love, gave him a space in your heart that was unmeasurable. And he didn’t want to admit how much he loved it.

You could never be scared of Muriel, knowing he was just a big teddy bear! You found it absolutely endearing whenever he talked in his sleep, saying all the things he would do to you, nervous beyond belief!!

It was when you started finding knives under his pillow in the morning, crumpled photos that he had drawn of you, destroyed pieces of wood that he whittled of you... That doubt began to sprout in the midst of your naive heart. Should you be scared?

What was once a comforting and quiet energy... Became malicious and violent. His love for you seemed to only extend farther than what you could perceive “healthy.” How can love become so violent?! What happened to the sweet, gentle giant that sparked a newfound feeling in his mind?!

There was only one thing you wish you did... RUN.

It was when you disposed of the myrrh he had given you to forget him... That he went absolutely mad. How can you just try to dispose of him?! ACT LIKE YOU DIDN’T KNOW HIM? HOW COULD YOU??!

What was a normal, rainy day was filled with nothing but sheer terror. He was inside your home!! WHO WAS HE?! ... YOU’RE SCARED! But oh how you had brought this upon yourself!! SO WHAT IF YOU’RE FUCKING SCARED?!

You were unprepared when his heavy breaths radiated off of the walls, bouncing around inside your mind... He was absolutely silent... When he tried to bring a knife down upon you.

♜ portia devorak ; dollhouse ♜

There was nothing Portia wanted more than for you and her to be a perfect couple, someday a perfect family even. Pepi, you, and her... Alone in her cottage, living a domestic life. How wonderful does that sound? Absolutely HEAVENLY to her, that’s for sure!!

To the public, you and Portia were, in fact, the perfect couple! She was absolutely angelic to anyone who met her eye, and you were her darling lover, an endearing doll of hers that she kept close to her. She opened the walls of her home to you, to her heart!

But soon people started to see something... different between you two. Were you really as perfect as you looked?

She’s coming... SHE’S COMING!! Swinging the attic door open, her wide smile offered an array of madness that couldn’t begin to be assessed. Her giggles filled your ears, what was once something you loved became something you came to fear.

When was the last time you truly thought for yourself? Portia did everything for you. She coddled you, fed you, dressed you, did your makeup, told you when you can speak, when you were to sleep. There wasn’t a moment where you were anything else but her rag doll, controlled and motivated under her loving hand.

“You were absolutely wonderful today, doll!! The way people looked at us. We’re perfect together!! EVERYONE THINKS IT, DON’T YOU?”

No matter how perfect everyone thought the two of you to be, you saw what everyone else didn’t see of Portia... How terrifyingly. Fucking. Insane she was.

But this is all your fault. You tried to run, tried to ruin the perfect facade Portia built up in her head. She just had to take things into her own hands to make sure you stayed! AND NOW LOOK WHAT HAPPENED!!

♜ lucio morgasson ; milk and cookies ♜

What else is there to say?! He LOVES YOU!!

He locked the doors of the palace at night. He needed to know you were there with him, in his arms, sound asleep... But when you tried to run, Lucio lost his trust in you; Trust that you can be alone.

“YOU SHOULD THINK TWICE BEFORE YOU TRY TO FUCKING CALL FOR HELP AGAIN, LITTLE BIRD!!”

Every night became the same; Lucio spiking the milk that put you to sleep; enough poison in it where he would be able to bend you to his will. Day by day, you grew weaker, unable to think for yourself. He took his chance to hold you then, singing a lullaby to you until you were... absolutely... knocked out...

“Do you want me, little bird? Of course, I’ll hold you!! I’m here!”

When the plague hit, did Lucio care? Absolutely not!! All that mattered was that you were with him, until death did you part! But when Lucio got sick, ill-ridden with the plague... He needed a final resort... Something that would assure you both would be TOGETHER FOREVER

“I baked you cookies, darling bird. Do you like them? ...Do you want to know the secret ingredients? Well, it’s a little bit of sugar... And a LOT of poison! ...Oh look how tired you’re getting. Perhaps I should put you to bed? The plague can’t kill you if I do first~! But don’t worry!! I’ll be join you VERY soon, my beautiful bird!”

He held you close to him, the sickening look in his reddened eyes absolutely deadly, filled with lust. There was nothing more soothing than seeing the pure innocence on your face when you were asleep. He sang you a final lullaby, before he set the room aflame... Ashes, ashes... If he was going to die, you were going to go down with him!! Amongst the fire surrounding him, he found solstice in knowing you were waiting for him, beckoning him to join you in the supple whisper of death. Because even in death... You couldn’t escape him; Death couldn’t do you part!

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*Author’s Note: I re-listened to the crybaby album and heard certain lines in different songs that set off my yandere writing radar. I stayed in my seat for 4 hours writing this as well... So I really hope you enjoyed!

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bengalaas · 4 years ago

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A Year In Review: 2020 Writing

This has been a strange year, to say the least, and it's weird to look back at the New Year's resolutions I had for it. Writing has been complicated, with little downtime from work and uni, and the lowkey stress permeating this whole plague situation has taken a bite out of my concentration and inspiration.

But here's a review of what I still managed to get done :)

I’ve seen a different end-of-year format making rounds, but I’m using the one from last year. So if you see this, feel free to either consider yourself tagged, or just take the tag as an expression of love and thanks ♥

Writing

My main writing resolution was to finish A Different Kind of Courage (Hobbit fic, Fili/Tauriel) in summer/autumn, but that didn't work out. I did write 27′500 words for it, and I'm not giving up on that rarepair pool noodle lol. At 43'400 words it's also my second longest fic to date :D

I added a 3800w chapter to Canticle of Chaos (Loki x Dragon Age crossover). By this point I'm pretty sure that fic is kinda cursed, so I'm writing it very slowly and only when I’m feeling lucky lol. Nevertheless, I think it's some of my best writing, and it's been a great exercise in “writing for yourself”.

I also translated a wonderful series, Lucky Heart (American Gods, Laura/Sweeney), 5600 words. I absolutely loved the rich mythological and metaphorical layers of the original, and it was a treat to try and reflect the author's style in English, playing with the rhythm and the word choices. Neither English, nor Russian are my native languages, so I’m double proud of this one!

Sometime in autumn I took an unexpected detour and fell into the tiny Varric/Merrill canoe and started a series Mirrors and Manuscripts, currently featuring 2 works at 6155 w total.

And some smaller things: I polished and posted an old F!Brosca & Zevran oneshot (No Honour in Dust, 1260w), and a curious writing experiment with M!Hawke/Isabela (Asyndeton, 1040w). I'm also slowly filling the “30 Days of OC” challenge with Martin Lavellan (5800w). And there were two other DA Drunk Writing drables, but they disappeared into the void whence they came from (I accidentally deleted them).

So that’s a total of 51′100 words, which I think is not bad, considering this fun year, and actually it’s 20k more than last year :D

Beta thanks

Still no beta, the bengalaas be wild and unspellchecked.

However, I’d like to thank @hollyand-writes for a betaing opportunity :) I’m sure there’s room for improvement in how I communicate my comments, and, being a non-native English speaker, there’s stuff I can’t really comment on, but diving into things critically is something I do enjoy, so — thanks for letting me :)

Progress

I think, this year I'm getting a bit better at finishing things. Oneshots and prompts definitely have forced me to focus on keeping the right amount of tension in my writing up until the end, and then to wrap it up nicely.

I’ve started compiling glossary lists with smut expressions and vocabulary lol, and also body language, facial expressions etc. Because it’s unbelievably frustrating to clearly picture what the character is doing and completely forget what’s that gesture called in English. Glossaries save me some time.

And also... I’m learning to let fics progress at their own pace. A reader reminded me in summer that a slowburn is a slowburn for a reason and it would be wrong to force it to move faster. It would break the authenticity of the story, of the characters. And when I was trying to push and finish a chapter recently, I again realised that the reason it’s not working is because I was ignoring the underlying truth of the story in favour of getting shit done. So. Truth ftw. Even if it takes its sweet time to emerge.

Community

My corner of the fandom has been wonderful, filled with talented, friendly people like @hollyand-writes, @cartadwarfwithaheartofgold, @lucyrne, @barbex, @cafeleningrad, @dorianpink, @serial-chillr, @dafan7711 and others. Thank you for being here and making this an inspiring, positive place! ♥

Additionally, raw respect for D, who made 100 lists x 30 prompts this year, and has been a staunch, supportive, positive voice in the fandom and an overall wonderful person.

I’ve also started talking with people more, and even joined the DA Drunk Writing Circle :D

Comments

I’ve been blown away by the comments I got on the Varric/Merrill oneshots, those were totally unexpected! Comments on the Lucky Heart series have felt so damn gratifying, for having been able to bring those stories to the English-speaking readers. Comments to Courage... they just warm my heart so much :))

Detailed, long-ass responses to the Varric/Merrill shots and to my own comments have been a delight. When discussions in the comment sections flood my email and AO3 starts to feel like a social media site... I live for it :))

2021

I’ll continue working on Courage and maybe puttering away on Canticle of Chaos. Maybe finish the 30 Days of Martin Lavellan series.

I don’t feel like starting any new multi-chapter fics, because I think that the next step for me would be to learn to plot properly and write a first draft before starting posting, and I just can’t see myself doing that next year lol.

I’d like to do more Dragon Age oneshots and prompts. Write something small and whimsical. Maybe Varric/Merill, since people seem to like it. I’d like to learn to write faster, so random prompts it is. Maybe I’ll finish playing DAI, for once. That might give fodder for new fics too.

And here’s a crazy idea lol, but maybe I should try writing something in my own native language next year XD

#beng's writing #bengruminations

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inevitably-johnlocked · 5 years ago

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do u have a fic list of BAMF john getting kidnapped?

Hey Nonny!

Ahh, I’ve quite a few Kidnapping fics!

Kidnapping, Hostage, & Stalking

Kidnapping, Hostage & Stalking Pt. 2

KIDNAPPING, HOSTAGE & STALKING Pt. 3

Booted by Sexxica (E, 1,175 w., 1 Ch. || Trapped, Kidnapping, Handcuffs, Biting Kink, Blow Jobs, Coming in Pants, Tight Spaces, Humour, Smut, 69 Sex Position, BJ’s Through Pants) – John and Sherlock have been kidnapped, handcuffed, and stuffed together in a car boot. How come they can never take these situations seriously? Part 3 of the Tumblr Ficlets Gone Wild

Imminent by LoyalPaddler (K+, 1,187 w., 1 Ch. || Kidnapping, Open Ending) – What did it say about a person if he recognized the feeling of waking up concussed, blindfolded, and handcuffed to a chair? Probably not good, that.

Coming Full Circle by KCS (K+, 2,358 w., 1 Ch. || Alternate TGG, Friendship, Drama, Violence/Death References, Drugging/Poisoning, Kidnapping, BAMF John, Moriarty POV, Introspection) – Moriarty had John for almost six hours between his abduction and the showdown at the pool - more than enough time to implement a Plan B for his escape should Sherlock call his bluff with the fake bomb vest.

The Hours Before Midnight by Lady Sam Mallory (T, 7,773 w., 1 Ch. || TGG Fic, Angst, Hurt/Comfort, Torture / John Whump, Kidnapping, Drugging, Alternating POV, Worried / Protective Sherlock) – Moriarty doesn't play fair. John must deal with hours of torment from Moriarty before going to meet Sherlock at the Pool at the end of the Great Game and Sherlock must deal with the consequences of his boredom.

Victim, Bait, Hero, Friend by KimberlyTheOwl (T, 7,887 w., 1 Ch. || Post-TGG Epilogue, Angst, Friendship, Hurt/Comfort, Introspection, Past Kidnapping / Torture / Implied Rape, Panic Attacks, Worried / Possessive Sherlock, Lestrade is a Good Friend) – Some insights into why John was perfectly willing to throw everything away for a chance to kill Moriarty at the pool. Trauma, ugliness, and finally healing. Some nice supporting work by Lestrade as well.

The Five Stages of Mourning, Plus One by SunnyRea (T, 10,557 w., 1 Ch. || MCD, Pining / Grieving Sherlock, URT, Heavy Angst, Sherlock’s Mind Palace, Drug Use, Graphic Death, Depression, Unhappy Ending) – Sherlock did not want this, did not want another stalemate with John in the middle, a gun in Jim's hand. This cannot have happened without a sign. There has to be something he missed anything which said today is the day I kill for real.

The Palmyra Atoll by elwinglyre (E, 16,609 w., 3 Ch. || TSo3 Divergence / Episode Fix-It, Stockholm Syndrome, Kidnapped John Watson, John Whump, Evil Mary, Angst, Cuddling & Snuggling, Toplock, Limited 3rd John POV) – As John's preparing for the wedding, Sherlock is preparing to have his heart broken, and Mary is prepared to do the unthinkable. Intervention required. Enter Sherlock. Set before Sign of Three with a far different outcome. John is drugged, kidnapped, and left on an island, but not just any old island.

Between Friends by SilentAuror (E, 18,036 w., 1 Ch. || Post S3, Alternating POV, Friends to Lovers, John in Denial, Abduction, Awkward Situations / Miscommunications, Porn With Feels, Blowjobs, Pining, Unrequited, Angst With Happy Ending) – Sherlock gets abducted. As John discovers him tied up naked in an empty storage facility and comes to rescue him, Sherlock's body has an unfortunate reaction which triggers a series of events. John is convinced that everything will be fine as long as they never discuss it. Sherlock isn't as sure...

Hellfire by testosterone_tea (E, 28,596 w., 9 Ch. || Fantasy / Magic / Mages / Elementals AU || Mage Sherlock, Elemental John, Developing Relationship, Torture, Powerful / BAMF John, POV Alternating, Dark / Blood Magic, UST, First Kiss) – Sherlock is a Mage that gets involved with a case involving Dark Summoning rituals, leading him to John Watson, a man with Berserker blood. The only thing is, Berserkers have been extinct for centuries. And of course, nothing involving Mycroft and his interfering ways is ever simple. This time, even Sherlock may have bitten off more than he can chew.

Inscrutable to the Last by DiscordantWords (M, 48,842 w., 6 Ch. || Post-TRF, Alternate S3, John’s Blog/S3 is a Story By John, Divorce, Marital Difficulties, John is a Mess, Emotional Reunion, Implied/Referenced Suicide, Grief / Mourning, Pining John, First Kiss, Adorably Clueless Sherlock, Nostalgia, Love Confessions, Eventual Happy Ending) – He wasn't Sherlock, he couldn't work miracles. All he'd ever been able to do was write about them.

The Thing Is by TSylvestris (E, 56,743 w., 21 Ch. || Case Fic, Dev. Rel., Anal/Oral, Blow Jobs, Meddling Mycroft, Drama, Romance, Humour, Casual Encounters, Pining Idiots, Possessive Sherlock, Orgasm Delay, Rough / Alley Sex, Public Sex, John Whump, Drugged John, Emotional Love Making, Awkward Relationship, Marriage of Convenience, Switchlock) – The problem with living with Sherlock, John thought, was that you never, never, ever knew the significance of anything. Like your flatmate's nose buried in your hair. Whilst you're in bed. Part 1 of Nitroglycerine

Hell Sent, Heaven Bound by ConsultingHound (M, 64,381 w, 16 Ch. || Angels / Demons AU || Fallen Angel Sherlock / Angel Cop John, Alternate First Meeting, Slow Burn, Case Fic, John & Lestrade are Friends Before Sherlock, BAMF John, Mind Palace John, Friends to Lovers, John in Denial, Sherlock Picks Out John’s Clothing, Clubbing / Dancing, Mildly Jealous John, Awkwardness, Kidnapping, Sherlock’s Mind Palace, Sacrifice, Worried / Anxious Sherlock, Angst with Happy Ending, Immortal to Mortal) – Ex-War healer and current angelic guard John Watson is not having the best day. He overslept, he’s underpaid, and now there’s someone tagging the Council’s building walls. However things may be about to get interesting: there’s an unusual stranger hanging around (the definition of tall, dark, and handsome), a literal underground cult is brewing, and rumblings are coming from hell. Can he keep his neighbourhood safe, how and why is he being connected to all this, and who the hell is Sherlock Holmes?

Being John Watson-ish by elwinglyre (E, 69,902 w., 17 Ch. || Bodysnatcher AU || Author John, Cranky Sherlock, Angst, Sexual Tension, First Kiss / Time, Falling in Love, BAMF John, Past Soldier John, Feelings, Inside Someone’s Brain, Shy Sherlock, Sherlock Loves John, POV Sherlock, Switchlock, Slow Burn, Internal Dialogue, Mental Turmoil) – When consulting detective Sherlock Holmes steps on one toe too many at a crime scene, he's consigned to a desk job in an archaic office on the seventh-and-a-half floor of the New Scotland Yard. It’s in this bleak office that Sherlock discovers a portal into the mind of renowned author John Watson. Grander than his mind palace, this new wonderland affords Sherlock new vistas of experimentation. To learn more about the mystery behind the portal, Sherlock seeks out and befriends Watson. But then it all goes wrong when others find the secret portal door—including the man whose brain he visits.

Not Broken, Just Bent by Schmiezi (E, 87,585 w., 43 Ch. || Pining, Love Confessions, Rape/Sexual Assault, Torture, Hurt/Comfort, Heavy Angst, Villain!Mary, Suicidal Ideations, Main Character Death, Sherlock First Person POV, Parentlock, Sherlock’s Mind Palace, Grief/Mourning, Emotional Love Making, Possessiveness, Depression, PTSD, Kidnapping, Virgin Sherlock, Eventual Happy Ending) – "For a second, I allow myself to remember teaching John how to waltz. There is a special room in my mind palace for it. A big one, with a proper parquet dance floor. For a second, I go there. I remember holding him, closer than the World Dance Council asks for, excusing it with the fact that we are training for a wedding, not for a competition. For a second, I feel his hand on mine again, smell his sweat, hear the song we used. For a second, I allow myself to love him deeply. For a second, only a second, that love reflects on my face." Fix-it for S3, starting at the end of TSoT. Evil Mary.

The Cost of a Wish by slashscribe (E, 102,493 w., 12 Ch. || xxxHolic Fusion || Spirits / Ghosts and Magic, Love Confessions, Slow Burn, Soul Mates / Fated Lovers, Adventure, Immortal Sherlock, Powerful John, POV John, Frottage, Wish Granting, Angst with Happy Ending, Nightmares) – John has been plagued by a secret his entire life that has made him feel hopeless until he meets a mysterious, seemingly omniscient man named Sherlock Holmes who owns a wish-granting shop. Their meeting sets off a series of inevitable events that will change the course of both of their lives forever.

Two Two One Bravo Baker by abundantlyqueer (E, 114,574 w., 27 Ch. || Military AU || Afghanistan, War Story, Thriller, Switchlock, Rimming, Emotional Lovemaking, Lots of Sex, HJ/BJ’s) – Captain John Watson of 40 Commando, the Royal Marines, is assigned to protect and assist Sherlock Holmes as he investigates what appears to be a simple war atrocity in Afghanistan. An intense attraction ignites between the two men as they uncover a conspiracy that threatens everything they’ve ever known, but Sherlock is as much hunted as hunter, and everyone close to him is in deadly danger. Can he solve the case in time to save himself and John? Part 1 of Two Two One Bravo Baker Universe

A Further Sea by i_ship_an_armada & ShinySherlock (E, 125,492 w., 23 Ch.|| Historical Pirates AU || Enemies to Friends to Lovers, Doctor John / Pirate Captain Sherlock, Sailing, UST / RST, Masturbation, Action / Adventure, Mild Angst & Peril, Romance, Shaving, Molly/Janine, Bottomlock, Past Drug Use, Slow Burn, Mild Violence, Happy Ending) – Here be a tale of adventure for both body and soul, but beware if ye be not of stout heart, for this be piratelock, ya savvy? Luckless ship's surgeon John Watson takes a chance, and finds himself eye to eye with The Ghost, the scourge of the seven seas and a definite thorn in the side of the blaggard, James Moriarty. But when John finds there's more to this most cunning pirate than be meetin' the eye, he has to choose... is it a pirate's life for him?

Free Falling by twistedthicket1 (M, 203,574 w., 38 Ch. || Guardian Angels AU || Guardian Angel John, Fluff and Angst, Humour, Kidlock / Teenlock, Light Mystrade, Passage of Time, Possessive John, Drug Use / Overdose, Victor Trevor, Graphic Bullying, Big Brother Mycroft, Hard Drug Use, Depression, Possessive Sherlock, Possessive John, Panic Attacks, Nightmares/PTSD, Pining, Healing Abilities, Kidnapping, Violence, Torture, Blow Jobs, Virgin John, Emotional Development / Attachment, Mortality, Happy Ending) – All Guardian angels are born with a Chosen human. When this child is born, the angel comes into being to protect and care for them during their life on Earth. For John Watson, all he cares about in the world revolves around his Chosen, Sherlock Holmes. Watching him grow up though, the angel soon learns that God must have had a sense of humour the day he decided to make Sherlock, as trouble seems to follow him like a magnet wherever he goes. John can't decide what's worse, the idea of losing his Chosen one, or the fact that he may be breaking the most taboo law of heaven as he disguises himself as a human to better protect and befriend the beloved detective he's always watched from afar. He was meant to care for him. But what happens when caring evolves into something more? What happens when an emotion an angel is supposed to be incapable of possessing comes to life suddenly and viciously inside John's chest?

#steph replies #johnlock fic recs #kidnapping fics #bamf john #Anonymous #my fic recs #fic rec sunday

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