#the amount of research i have done for a fanfic

[moonsorchid]

I did not expect myself to write a fanfic in 2024 and to research about the characteristics of orchids, but here I am.

[hehehereliesmysanity]

Non-Royal Wilmon Wedding au coming up next

featuring groomzilla Wille🤭

[sollucets]

as promised i am sort of juggling working on oe & my 5+1. have a lil eensy bit from each for balance, one samdavid and one teampharm, just for you guys

David would sigh if it wouldn't look deranged to Sam. This doesn't suit him. "Yeah," he says decisively. "It's a pain in the ass." Sam snorts out a little laugh, then gets out of his chair and circles the desk to stand behind David. This kind of behavior usually pisses him off -- he's gotten used to Aster constantly snooping on his screens because it's them, but it's not something he forgives from other people. He's about to just explain it to Sam when the other man leans down, close to David's left shoulder, to peer at the worksheet. And somehow, with that rustle of fabric loud in the sudden closeness, David forgets to say anything. "Oh, hey, I recognize that," Sam says with a little laugh. "I think we used the same diagrams back in freshman year. How's it treating you?"

+

“Pumpkin custard!” cheers Pharm. It’s very cute. Team has the urge to squish his face somehow through the phone. “It was what you said you liked, back when we first met. Remember?” 

Team is pleasantly surprised that Pharm does. He has the best friends. “Mmhm.”

“If you come to campus, I can give you some today. We have to set the rest aside for the fair, though.” 

Weighing the benefits of Pharm-produced pumpkin custard vs. the benefits of not having to wear pants is a difficult operation. Team makes a noise that reflects this. 

[the-2nd-random-kid]

Bitches be like "casually gets a business degree in order to more accurately write their old man fanfiction"

Its me, im bitches

[isekyaaa]

I'm going camping this weekend so gonna maybe try and see if I can get any writing done......

[fandoms--fluff]

Baby Bradshaw

Flufftober, October 19th

Sister reader x Bradley Bradshaw

Summary: You’re Bradley’s little sister whose 14 and he doesn’t exactly know about the mischief you (cause) get into until he gets called back to Top Gun as one of the candidates. Maverick hasn't seen you since you were six because of the whole pulling Bradley's papers thing. (You've been living with Ice). So, a lot has defiantly changed. Your callsign is Marvel.

A/N: I know the time lining doesn’t exactly add up, but I came up with this idea at 2am. Deal with it I think it’s cute (and hectic). Please, I know it's shitty but just bear with me for it.

Warnings: Swearing, Underage drinking (only a little), (underage) flying combat - it’s just a fanfic and I can create the rules so.....deal with it!

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“Can I leave now?” You complained.

“For the last time, NO” Warlock answered while going through a stack of papers. 

You walk over to the front of his desk, where he’s standing. “Oh, come on, you’re the one who always says that I should be in the farthest room from where you are. Just between you and me, I’m pretty sure that this is because there’s something going on downstairs that you don’t want me to know about.”

“MARVEL!” He yells, fed up with you.

“WARLOCK!” You imitate him and his stance. 

“You know what? Yeah, your right I don’t think I can actually handle any more of well......you today. You can leave” He exasperated while doing a hand gesture when he said ‘you’.

Immediately you grab your phone from the tiny square table in there and sped out the door, deciding to go check out what’s happening downstairs since your brother was saying something about having to go there again today. He’s been complaining about someone - his callsign is bagman you're pretty sure - to you for the past week but won’t tell you why, so you’re deciding to investigate what's going on because, well you’ve got nothing better to do. Well, you should probably get all the science homework you have done but that's a later problem with bullying one of the navy research persons into "helping" you.

You've also asked Ice multiple times but he's found ways to distract you so you'd forget about it until the next day. (Yes, he has written a whole handbook of how to deal with your shit - you don't know of course)

While you're walking down the hall you've come into eyesight of Cyclone who was about to go into a room.

'Shit' you thought to yourself.

"What are you doing down here Marvel?" Cyclone, paused right before turning the doorknob.

"Well, my plan worked with annoying Warlock into letting me leave his office and now I'm going to figure out what you guys are failing at hiding from me just down the hall" you said pointing to a wide door into one of the hanger/classroom things as if it's a normal occurrence.

Which it kinda is...

"That's funny cause I don't remember allowing you to go anywhere near there" He crossed his arms.

"Well unlike everyone else I don't give a crap what you want or think I should do or just orders in general" You smirked and resumed your walking.

“Marvel! Stop!” He yelled.

Right as he yelled you started to sprint as fast as you could (which is FAST).

“MARVEL! GET BACK HERE. NO! DON’T YOU DARE GO IN THERE!” He started to chase after you.

The dagger squad and Maverick turned their heads to the noise coming from the hallway until the door burst open. You ran over to the other side of the room, quickly before Cyclone could get to you. 

By the time Cyclone ran in you already ducked underneath an old wooden desk nobody has probably used in years considering the amount of dust it held.

Everyone looked from where you hid, over to Cyclone who’s clearly pissed. 

“Marvel!” Cyclone called out, ignoring everyone’s confused faces.

You kept quiet, not making even a small amount of sound. Your legs are tucked up against your chest, tightly while you lean your chin on your left knee.

“Okay if no one else is going to say it, I am. Who the hell is Marvel? Is the little girl who ran in Marvel?” Hangman spoke out loud, earning an elbow to the ribs from Phoenix. 

Cyclone looked over to everyone and sighed before yelling out, “Y/N BRADSHAW!” 

At that you rolled your eyes and crawled out from under the desk, walking over. 

“You know I really hate it when you call me by my full name” You glared at him, paying no mind to everyone who’s watching with shocked faces. Bradley's face though was filled with more so disappointment. 

“You know what I give up, I don’t have the energy to fight with you today” Cyclone said, walking towards the doors. 

“Well, that’s disappointing, I’ve got nothing better to do and it’s entertainment for me” He walked out giving you the bird. 

“Wow! How real nice of you!” you said sarcastically before turning over to everyone.

You walked a bit closer to Hangman, giving him a death glare.

“Oh yeah, call me ‘little girl’ again, I’ll kick your shins until they’re raw and bleeding” You threatened him. 

His reaction is a mixture of shock and against his wishes, fright. Before you could laugh at him, Rooster started walking towards you with an eyebrow raised. 

“Okay, in my defense what do you expect me to do? Stay in my room and happily do fucking homework all day?!” You stated to him. 

You looked over at Maverick who was walking towards you and enveloped you into a tight hug.

"I missed you kiddo."

[littlejuicebox]

Labor and joy.

The moment all (some) of you have been waiting for. Welcome to the fanfic, baby Gale.

I'm tired so I'll do my usual header tomorrow when I have time to reformat everything. This will also be lightly edited. Ya'll got a double-feature tonight to make up for my lack of posting during my recovering from illness process.

Warnings: birth, labor, babies, light angst, light gore kinda

Disclaimer: I’ve never had a baby and I am not pregnant nor have I ever been so all this is based off friends, family, and research.

This was never ending. You had been in labor for half the day prior, and now it was well past midnight, but you still were not ready to push. Shadowheart had stepped away a few hours ago for rest. Halsin had since stepped in to take her place and did his best to stay unintrusive in the corner of your bedchambers; it was no easy task with his large frame.

Astarion had been forced to watch you for hours as your face contorted in pain. Contraction after contraction ripped through your frame, and every utterance of discomfort from you was met with soothing ministrations from your husband. He spent hours alternating between sitting beside you and behind you, offering support to the best of his ability as you endured the miserable labor pains.

No amount of screaming, crying, or massaging seemed to help. You were so exhausted, at this point you were barely making any noise as another contraction coursed through you. Sleep was not an option in this state, no matter how much you desired it. 

Astarion sat propped behind you in bed, utterly exhausted himself, and rubbing soothing circles in your back as you did what you could to focus on your breathing. He noted your nightgown was drenched in sticky pools of sweat as you rocked back and forth through sharp breaths, searching for an ounce of relief in the repetitive movement.

“My love, tell me what I can do to help.” He whispers, voice trembling with worry as he presses his long fingers firmly into your lower back, hoping to ease the tension, “I will do anything you ask of me.” 

You don’t respond. You can’t. You can barely breathe through the pain. And truthfully, you don’t know what will help. Nothing seems to at this point. Gods, you are so tired.

“Perhaps we should try a walk, Tav.” Halsin suggests, standing from his corner in the room to join you both by the side of the bed, “Let us head to the kitchen. Walking should ease the pain, and I will make you tea that can help with the contractions.” 

“You can’t be serious, druid!” Astarion snaps, unable to contain his mounting concern for his little love, “Just look at her! I don’t think Tav is in any position to–” 

You haphazardly place a flimsy, trembling warning hand on Astarion’s face and the rest of your husband’s admonishment dies on his lips. You simply nod at Halsin, and gesture for the other elf to help you out of the bed. Two large arms pull you up with relative ease, and you sigh with some relief as the sudden change to standing removes some pain from your lower back.

Astarion moves to follow you, and you wordlessly shake your head as you lean further into the druid. His brows crinkle in a silent question as he watches you; he thinks he’s done something wrong.

Your eyes soften for a moment, and you offer the slightest smile you can muster through your unbelievable discomfort. Your voice is a hoarse whisper when you say, “Stay here, my love. You need a short break. I will be back in mere moments; Halsin can watch over me until then.”

“Tav, it is my job to–” Astarion starts, about to argue the point with you, but Halsin is quick to cut in.

“It is your job to support Tav how she asks you to throughout this process and listen to her desires and needs.” The druid responds, kindly but firmly, offering an encouraging nod to your husband, “We will be but rooms away.” 

The silver-haired elf takes in a sharp breath as he watches your face nervously, mustering all of his patience to acquiesce. The druid is right. Astarion knows it. Your husband nods slowly and sighs while using every ounce of self control within his body to lean back and settle into the bed once again, “If you are certain, my love, then very well. Call for me with the bell, should you two need anything.” 

Halsin grabs the bell from the side table and nods with a final reassuring look at Astarion. And then the two of you begin the slow journey to the kitchen, the druid’s large frame easily bearing the majority of your weight. Your limbs feel like lead beneath you, but the pain is significantly lessened as you pace down the hallway.

Thank the gods for small miracles.

Before long, you are sipping tea in the kitchen as Halsin works to distract you from another vicious contraction with a story about Arabella and Mol. Your head tilts back as you chuckle– the first laugh you’ve had all night. Suddenly, you feel copious amounts of warm, thick fluid dripping down your legs.

“H-halsin, I think it’s time to push.” You gasp, staring down incredulously at the puddle now pooling around your feet. 

“Are you certain, Tav? Shall I check?” Halsin offers, quickly coming to your side, and you shake your head vehemently, far too embarrassed to let the druid perform such an exam, no matter his level of professionalism.

“No— just ring the bell, it will bring Shadowheart and Astarion.” You hiss as another powerful contraction assaults your body, paired with the overwhelming sensation of intense pressure in your pelvis. You are clutching the swell of your abdomen and leaning over the counter as you breathe through the feeling. You don’t know how you know it’s time, but you’re quite certain.

Halsin obliges, and moments later both Shadowheart and Astarion are bursting through the kitchen doors. Shadowheart is in her nightclothes, and her white hair is flying around her shoulders as she makes her way to you. Astarion is wide-eyed in panic on the heels of the cleric, his curls just as disheveled and pajamas crinkled from the stress of the night.

“I think– I think it’s time to push.” You grimace, and Shadowheart quickly performs an exam to confirm your suspicions.

Astarion’s face is creased with some mixture of relief and apprehension as he rubs your back and murmurs, “Come, darling, let’s get you back to the bedroom and–”

But he startles because you’re screaming as another contraction rips through you, practically compelling you to push. And you’re certain there’s no time to move. You’re adamant that you have to push right now, that you want to deliver right here in the middle of the kitchen. You aren’t moving. You can’t move. You need to push. Now.

Now. Now. Now. Now. 

Halsin is quickly behind you as you instantly move to a half squat. His arms thread underneath your armpits, supporting you as you bear down. Shadowheart is hastily searching through drawers, looking for linens and other materials to spread beneath you in an attempt to contain the growing mess of liquid as you wail and continue to push as if life depends on it. 

In some ways, it does.

Nothing has ever prepared you for this feeling. No book, not even the several you read on the subject, could ever adequately describe it. 

“I don’t— what do I do?! What should I do?!” Astarion is barely containing his own panic, frozen in place and flitting his gaze between Halsin and Shadowheart as the two work around you with the easy expertise of two healers that have performed this task more than once.

“Get ready to catch the baby, you git!” Shadowheart hisses as she shoves Astarion down into the nest of linens she’s spread around the floor.

“Catch the– WHAT–” Astarion shouts, but then the cleric is grabbing his head, forcing him to look upwards, and he’s peering under your nightdress with wild eyes. The baby is crowning. All Astarion sees is a shock of silvery-white curls.

“Oh! Oh gods! Tav, I see Gale’s head!” He exclaims, somehow both panicked and excited as he awkwardly positions his shaking arms in the way Shadowheart directs.

The cleric has dropped down to her knees beside your husband, and the two of them are watching as you continue to push with renewed vigor, encouraged by your husband’s exclamations. 

There is a long moment where you feel sure you’re ripping in two, and you almost give up, but then a sudden feeling of relief washes over your body. The kitchen is filled with the wails of a new infant.

When you open your eyes, the first thing you see is Astarion, his curls wild, his face wide eyed and shocked, and his arms covered in various fluids and vernix. And then you see your little wriggling baby, covered in that same fluid, wailing at the top of their lungs. Their little shrieks sound like music to your ears.

Halsin is gently lowering you to the ground and into the nest of linens as you slowly come out of the fog of pain and overwhelm. Astarion is both crying and beaming as he places the infant in your arms before pressing a loving kiss to your temple. He’s trembling with the inexplicable wave of emotions flowing through his system as he whispers to you, “My love, look, just look at our beautiful baby boy. You did so well, darling.”

You are crying and speechless as you stare down at your newborn. You didn’t think you could love anything in the world more than you loved your husband. But now you know you were wrong.

Later, after all three of you have been cleaned up and relocated to your bedchambers, you feel Astarion’s body shaking from where he sits behind you as Gale attempts his first feed. You are sitting between your husband's legs, your back leaning against his chest. A sideways glance reveals he is laughing.

“What is so funny, Astarion?” You ask quietly, still aglow and in a haze from the hormones pumping their way through your system.

“It’s just… our child, named after Gale, the man that was once our camp cook and would never shut up about food, would decide it best to be born in the kitchen.” Astarion responds with another chuckle as he brings his hand to stroke the cheek of the little baby in your arms.

Astarion studies the newborn’s two pointed ears, ten fingers, ten toes, and the little curls on the baby’s head as he speaks, “And our Gale absolutely drenched me in blood and guts in our kitchen – something I’d never been willing to do in the camp kitchen for his namesake.”

You chuckle softly as your little one utters a soft coo of assent in your arms, slowly drifting to sleep as he suckles. 

“I’m sure that will be one of many firsts, my love.” You say through a yawn, caught between the warmth of your newborn and your husband. The comforting sensation is lulling you to sleep; it is truly a wonder you’ve managed to stay awake this long. Gale is still nursing intently in his slumber, searching for the nutrients only you can provide.

The silver-haired elf emits a happy hum as he wraps his arms underneath yours, content to hold his two little loves and watch over them as they both rest. He will sleep later, he thinks. But for now, reality is better than any dream his mind can conjure.

As the first rays of morning light peek through the bedroom window, Astarion realizes his newborn son’s name is more than fitting, because it perfectly describes his feelings in this moment.

Joy. Absolute joy.

[cloudyskydreams]

SO on period UT,UF,US,HT!

Ive had this sitting in my notes for awhile wasn't super proud of it still ain't but I wanted to post something, I just had to slap the HT brothers on and boom new post.

Also I've been wanting to write swapfell but I don't know the difference between that and fellswap or really their personalities cause it's so different for each fanfic so if someone could pls explain 🙏

Anyways here y'all go hope you enjoy!

Undertale:

Sans: I feel like sans is pretty knowledgeable so you didn't have to explain it to him. He takes it pretty maturely it's a natural part of life. The puns the horrible puns. He has so many specifically for this time of the month. He's always got your comfort snack on hand in his jacket pockets. He doesn't really change much he'll get off his ass if you ask him to but he sticks by your side mostly and lazes out cuddled with you while watching shows. Pretty good at getting products and snacks you might like he likes to get you some new snacks to try with him and he's good at guessing what you might like.

Papyrus: This man is prepared. After you tell him what it is he researches it and WOWIE he wishes he just asked you to explain but now he's over prepared with knowledge! He has hot water bottles and weighted blankets at the ready. Any snacks you want, heck you want a whole meal? He's on it and it's prepared with extra love. He carries around your products for you and always has pain medicine in his bags. Pretty good at picking them up from the store too and has no shame getting them.

Underfell:

Red: You gotta explain it to him and this man is bewildered for a bit. ya bleed from there for how long??? every month?! He's a little impressed?? Last he checked humans weren't supposed to lose huge amounts of blood but you're treating it like it's a normal thing. After he gets over his initial shock he'll try and help the best he can which is a little awkwardly. He makes a little nest for you out of blankets and pillows and makes sure you're comfortable. He and his magic run warm so he'll lay on your stomach and cuddle to help with cramps, pet his head and he might purr. He's pretty confused about products def one to send Babe what's your pussy size.

Edge: He's aware, he's done his research on his own when you were ovulating about the human "mating cycle". Not a fun experience but he takes it in stride. He listens to what you need and trys to deliver. Massages for sore muscles and heating pads for cramps. He'll make you comfort food while you relax watching a show and join you afterwards for some cuddles. He's pretty good at getting products for you and takes the ones you like into consideration but he's always looking for better healthier alternatives for you.

Underswap:

Stretch: Knows about it (blue taught him when he found out and Stretch showed interest in humans)and is a little awkward(traumatized from the talk with Blue). Hate to say it Stretch doesn't really know what to do he's not grossed out he just doesn't know how to handle it. He tries his best to be comforting giving snacks, heating pads, and cuddles. He's so awkward going to the store to get products plays it cool but has no idea what he's doing and definitely gets the wrong thing after his mind blanks while staring at all the products for too long. You just gotta train him he'll get better.

Blue: Also knows and he's handling it alot better. He takes it in stride and understands the biggest part is you're uncomfortable and he's going to do his best to help with that. He takes care of chores you don't want to do, makes you comfort meals, and always has a heating pad ready. Has so many two player comfort games lined up for you guys, he has stuff to do but most of his work stuff can be done at home! Which means he'll just be a shout away if you need anything . Pretty good at getting products and is one to carry some around in his bag just in case when you guys go out.

HorrorTale:

Axe: You have to explain it to him… Multiple times. He's confused as to why you smell like blood, he likes the smell but he's confused for a bit until he writes a note about it. He will not remember which products to get unfortunately. He's so confused staring at them you'll have to instruct him very clearly over a call and he still probably grabs the wrong one. Cuddles are supreme he's a giant so he'll engulf you in his form and his purrs practically shake your whole body. It's like a free massage chair whenever you want. He sticks closer by your side during this time of month knowing blood means your wounded and his protective urges flare up.

Willow: You'll also have to explain it to him and he's extremely worried when he smells blood. Even more so when he learns how long you bleed, he knows how much blood a human can loose and it worries him you're losing so much. After you explain it's a normal thing and a part of life he calms down slightly. He cleans and cooks a lot when stressed or worried so you constantly have something to munch on and you don't have to worry about any chores. He stays over stocked up on supplies, he doesn't like going out in public very often but for this he will because he deems it important enough. It's why he stocks up so much when he goes out. Mother hens over you hard and you might have to pull him into cuddles to get him to relax for a bit.

[sematarygirls]

sonny carisi & sex: an embarrassing exposé on what i think about far too much in my free time.

                   ౨ৎ

sonny carisi's favorite sex position seems to be a divisive topic that i've thought about much myself, and by that, i mean, i made all of that up. i'm actually not sure what the general consensus on what sonny is and isn't into seems to be, but i am here to share my own thoughts and feelings on the topic.

i have done hours of extensive research (watching s16-22 of law and order svu and reading fanfic) and through that, i have determined one very simple fact: sonny is a missionary man, and no, i don't mean in the religious sense.

i believe that ultimately, for sonny, sex boils down to two things: love and intimacy. especially with his catholic upbringing where sex is sacred and a job where he sees violent sex acts every day. he doesn't want to come home and be reminded by the bad parts of human nature. he wants to be reminded of the closeness and the love that two people can share, that sex is supposed to be a fun and joyful thing.

with this in mind, i think that the closeness that missionary provides is the perfect amount of intimacy for a guy like sonny— the eye contact, the feel of his body over yours. he can watch you intently, see your reaction to his every move, guage when he's doing something you like, when he's doing something you don't.

along with that, i really like the idea that he has a little bit of a breeding kink (i hate that word, but my point stands). i think sonny loves kids and dreams of having a big family with you. that leg over the shoulder maneuver, while also great for heightening your pleasure, just so happens to be a great way to get pregnant, or so I've been told. i'm not exactly an expert on all things sex as much as i like to claim to be.

i think i've seen people say he would be fond of doggy, but i respectfully disagree with that idea. i think for him, it would seem too impersonal, almost degrading in a sense. there's not a lot of connection. there's no eye contact. he can't even see his most favorite part about you— your beautiful face. he can't see how it flushes or the way your eyes roll back or that bashful look when he calls you a "good girl" and says you're "doing so well" for him. i think if you enjoyed it, he wouldn't be opposed to it because he just wants to make you happy, but it's far from one of his favorites.

i do think he enjoys you riding him. it has all of the same benefits of missionary, except you're on top. he loves seeing that new angle of you. the way your head falls back, lips parted in pleasure as you set the pace and take control. it does something to him, but ultimately, after a long and stressful day at work, nothing is better than hovering over you and planting kisses over every inch of skin that he can reach while murmuring all about how much he loves you and how you're the perfect girl for him, and that's what makes missionary soar leagues above any other position to him.

[askinkiskarma]

Illicit Affairs | Chapter I: Willow

Pairing: Neteyam x f!Human!Reader

Chapter II Chapter III Chapter IV Chapter V Chapter VI Chapter VII Chapter VIII Chapter IX Chapter X

Warnings: Cursing, mentions of death and disease

WC: 3,4k words

A/N: Sooo.. I kinda did something. This is the first fanfic I have written that will actually see the light of day, and also the first piece of writing (outside of master's dissertations, papers, scientific essays etc) that I have done since probably high school, which is longer ago than I'd like to admit. Anyway, I have been hyperfixated on Avatar recently, ATWOW fully bringing back my love and obsession for Pandora that I have had since 2009. I adore the new movie and the Sully kids, but I have a special place in my heart for Neteyam, so here we go. Let me know what you guys think. I work full time as a PhD student, so I'll try my best to write in my spare time and hopefully I can get this done the way I truly want to. This story is also loosely inspired by the incredible @forever--darling and her "One of Us" Neteyam fanfic, which I adore and have probably memorised by now with the amount of times I have read it.

I'm like the water when your ship rolled in that night Rough on the surface but you cut through like a knife And if it was an open-shut case I never would've known from that look on your face Lost in your current like a priceless wine

“Wake up, Ace. It’s late already and there’s so much to do today, remember?” Norm’s voice pulled you out of a beautiful dream, one where you were flying on your chosen Ikran, high above the clouds, the worries…this lab. Albeit hard to swallow, you were almost relieved to be woken up, as feeding out-of-reach fantasies and dreams could lead to no good, anyhow. 

“I’m up… Jesus, Norm.” You felt yourself rise from your warm and comfortable bed and the feeling of your bare feet touching the cold, hard floor of the living quarters of the lab made you swallow a curse. 

“We left you some breakfast, get ready and meet us in the lab in 30, okay? We have the samples ready for you and you can run them after we’ve talked it through.” 

“Aye, aye, captain.” 

This was your life. You, among a few other people, were one of the only humans left on Pandora after the war took them back to Earth more than 17 years ago. Unlike the others, though, you were born here, on this foreign planet, the only home you’ve ever known. There was one more, a beautiful, feisty young man with a dark heritage, who liked to think that he is as much Pandoran as the actual natives. His name was Spider, and although you grew up together, there was not much you could say you had in common. He was wild and adventurous, has been his whole life; fully willing to immerse himself in the Na’vi ways and almost demanding a place amongst the people.

Although you have your doubts, he says the people were accepting of him, as he managed to befriend the most important family of the nearby Omatikaya tribe: the Sullys. Jake Sully, a former dream walker, rose to prominence as Toruk Makto, rider of Last Shadow. He brought multiple clans together to defeat the Sky People in their brutal quest for wealth and colonisation. He succeeded, after which he became Olo’yektan, leader of the Omatikaya. He is now fully Na’vi, after completing a consciousness transfer that allowed him to leave behind his human form and forever live as one of the people. It had never been done before. Jake was a great man, who became a mediator between the Na’vi and the humans left on Earth. His children, Neteyam, Lo’ak, Kiri and Tuk, were brought up to know English and be accepting of everyone, regardless where they came from, as long as they had pure intentions and a strong heart. Spider was considered one of them. And, surprisingly, you were, too. 

Your mum was a medic and researcher, brought here many moons ago to assist the Dr. Grace Augustin and her team in their quest to understand Pandora and its miraculous biology. Your dad, a former Master Sergeant in the US Air Force, joined the RDA for their military purposes. You never met your dad. He died when the Sky People attacked, although no one knows for sure which side he ended up taking. Your mum didn’t even know she was pregnant with you at the time, that’s how new everything was. Your mum loved your dad and she maintained her belief that he ended up doing the right thing in the end. You believed that as a child, but now are not so sure. Nevertheless, you still kept his dog tag, in a drawer at the bottom of your desk, a reminder of where you come from and what mistakes not to repeat. 

Your mum died where you were 10. It was the worst day of your life. The cancer, which slowly spread in the beginning, overtook her being one faithful day, which you will never be able to erase from your memory. There is no chemotherapy, no radiation therapy, no drugs that could have prevented this, not here, not on Pandora. Your mum made a decision to remain on this planet she loved more than her own and it eventually killed her. She had no regrets, she said. She was happy to have lived and loved and died here, among Eywa. The Na’vi loved her. She was good friends and a mentor to Neytiri and Jake, both of whom agreed to give her a Na’vi send off. You were there that day, one of the few times you had visited the Home Tree. You remember the pouring rain, falling so hard it washed away the tears spilling from your eye almost as soon as they emerged. You remember Lo’ak and Kiri, your beautiful friends that have always been there for you, mourning with you. Your mum was their favourite aunt. She introduced them to music and films, and showed all of you her favourite books and painters and made sure you all understood that humans, despite their many flaws, have beauty and love and good in them, that no matter what, will prevail. “It will prevail because of you. Because you will carry it along and share it. You will revel in the beauty and fight to bring it back because what better way is there to live?”

You finished breakfast quickly, some dry toast with some fruit Kiri brought you the last time she visited and made your way back to the lab. You found Norm and Max, alongside two other human scientists, Tim and Claire, sitting on chairs next to the lab benches, discussing plans for the week. 

“There she is, the brightest of us all.” You smirked at the compliment, raising your eyebrows in amusement and sitting down next to Claire. 

“You’ve done great work last week, Ace The ELISAs show promise that Relensa might have some effect against this type of Pandora virus. I need you to now repeat it with the samples we’ve provided and also include a different type of positive control to the experiment, if possible.”

“Will do. How about a combination therapy? I know Relensa is not the only type of anti-viral therapy we have available. Amantidin, maybe? We have to go at this from all angles, you know?” 

“Our Amantidin reserve is running severely short, but give it a try. Try a dose-response? Maybe 100 nano molars to 1 micro molar? Try 1milimolar as a positive control?”

This was your life. Unlike Spider, you avoided the clan. You did not want to be the walking reminder of everything they’ve lost. You were happy to sit back and dedicate your life to helping from the shadows. Your mum was a medic and a researcher, one of the brightest in the world. She wrote the book on Na’vi anatomy and physiology, she wanted to understand the people and hopefully help them mitigate losses brought by disease. You continued that work. Although young, you learned everything there was to learn. Not like you had anything else to do. You worked as a scientist and a nurse and a doctor if needs be. You patched humans up, stitched their wounds, ran experiments on Pandora pathogens and tried to find a cure against viral and bacterial diseases that plagued the Na’vi. You spent your life in the lab, and in the adjacent hub, learning, working out and playing the guitar and piano your mum taught you when you were really young. You couldn’t say you loved it, loved being here all the time, but you were content knowing you were, in your own way, making up for your species’ past mistakes. 

Around lunchtime, you heard commotion from the entryway. A very familiar voice reverberated through the hallways. Your lips raised in a soft smile. Lo’ak. 

Removing your lab coat, goggles and gloves, you made your way towards the origin of the sound. The tall, much-taller-than-you young man picked up a breathing mask from the designated shelf and waved at you with unwavering enthusiasm. You loved this boy. Your brother, for all intents and purposes, your partner-in-crime for all time. He loved you, too, you knew that, and you thought in a different life, in a different universe, you were soulmates, braving life’s tough storms together. 

“Brought you lunch, angel.” Your nickname for you made you roll your eyes. You hated it, but the more you hated it, the more he used it so you remained silent. “I thought you could use a break from the stale excuse you guys call food around here.” 

Lo’ak spoke English with you most of the time. He took to your parents’ (and his dad’s) culture the most out of all the kids. You spent a lot of your childhood together, hunched around a computer with old reruns of shows your mum loved in her youth, shows and movies that were way before even her time. She said she loved seeing what Earth looked like before humans killed their mother. Shows like Gilmore Girls, Friends and Modern Family were some of her favourites. You devoured them as a child, and Lo’ak did so too, with you. You drove her crazy as children, and drove Norm and Max crazy as teenagers, both trying to understand references and sayings, buildings and activities, games and idiosyncrasies. The Earth you grew up watching and reading up was beautiful, a star in the night sky you will never be able to touch. 

Lo’ak made his way to the dining room of the hub, and lay several carefully-packed items on the table. Fresh teylu, cooked over fire and Pandora vegetables, all full of colour and flavour, all much better than anything that could come out of this place. You realise that you are starving as soon as you lay your eyes on them. Before you even sat down, you dug your fingers in and quickly ate some teylu, groaning at the delicious sweet meaty flavour. It was your favourite, and Lo’ak knew. He laughed at your apparent desperation and motioned for you to sit down. You obliged, and you both sat in silence for a while, just enjoying each other’s company and the food he provided. 

“How’s training going? I haven’t seen you in a few days.” 

“I die a little bit inside every time you make me remember I spend my days training like a little robot. It’s going fine. Tiring, you know? My dad is fully back in his Marine ways. He knows it’s been enough time that the humans are bound to return sooner or later. He says they’d never leave this world, and all its untapped riches alone without a fight. So it’s a lot of military training… if we walk like them, talk like them and fight like them, it might bring us some sort of advantage, you know?” 

“Yeah, I know. I know it’s a pain, but he’s only doing this to protect you guys. He’s right. The humans are bound to return one day and when they do, we have to be prepared.” He doesn’t know this, but you have also been training, learning about guns, going through your dad’s old manuals and whatever else the RDA has left behind that could possibly be of use. You use the guns that are in the hub to learn how to aim, shoot, strip field, reload and clean the weapons, so you too can be prepared when the time comes. You might be stuck in a weak human body, but you will not be weak. 

“Neteyam’s driving me nuts. He used to be fun, remember that? He’s such a killjoy, it’s hard to stomach being around him anymore. He’s always giving out orders, always making sure everything is in order and perfect, like him. He’s been training like crazy, and sticking to my dad like he’s some sort of fungus you can’t get rid of. Drives me crazy.”

“Hey, don’t talk about your brother like that. There’s a line, Lo’ak. Neteyam only wants the best for you guys, and he’s the oldest. He has to carry the burden of being the responsible one while you guy cause mischief all the time.” 

Neteyam, Jake and Neytiri’s oldest, is more Na’vi than all the other children combined, in both looks and personality. Whilst the two middle children, Lo’ak and Kiri have five fingers, eyebrows and a more human appearance, Neteyam is all Neytiri. He’s tall and lean and seems like he was born with a bow in hand. A true warrior, you always found him a tad intimidating. Just like his mum, he has his apprehensions about humans and avatars, and although he used to come to the hub quite often when he was younger, mostly to keep an eye on his siblings, the visits have become a rarity as of recent times. 

You wonder how the young man changed in the time you haven’t seen him. You used to be close as children, or at least that’s what you thought. Whereas Spider took to Lo’ak and Kiri, their mischievous personalities a good match for each other, you took to the oldest Sully boy. He was quiet and thoughtful, and he used to look at you like a puzzle he was trying to solve, but couldn’t. He used to sit in the back as you used to play piano, and his gaze on you used to make your skin blush and your heart race. You tried not to think about the pang of hurt that rose in your chest as you remembered that he essentially abandoned you, without so much as a farewell. 

“Earth to Y/N, are you still there?” Lo’ak interrupted your train of thought and you were half grateful that you didn’t have to think about Neteyam anymore. 

“Sorry. You were saying?”

“I was saying you’re right, I know I should be more understanding, I am happy I don’t have to be the one to carry all of responsibility, but it’s hard not to hold a grudge when it seems my brother was abducted by aliens and replaced with a weird, no-fun replica of himself.” 

You groaned at the young Sully’s ongoing verbal attacks, but said no more. Whatever was going on between the two Sully boys was, at the end of the day, none of your business. 

“Anyway…” Lo’ak started, a mischievous grin appearing on his beautiful face, “I know something you don’t.” 

“Mmm, what is that?”

“I’m not telling you, but let’s just say I think it will make you very happy.” 

“Well that’s just cruel. You know I hate surprises.”

After lunch, Lo’ak joined you in the recreation hub, where you kept a guitar and the piano that the humans left behind. You didn’t feel like going back to work just yet. You sat down on the cold floor and picked up your copy of Pride and Prejudice, your mum’s favourite book. The book was coming apart at the seams, worn down from all the times you have held it in your hands, as if gripping it tighter would bring her back to you, even if for only a split second. You sighed as you passed the book to Lo’ak and motioned for him to put it on the table next to him.

“Sing for me, will you? I missed hearing your voice.” 

You smiled up at him. Nobody knew you like Lo’ak did. Nobody accepted you the way Lo’ak did. Both of you felt out of place in this world, like you didn’t quite belong anywhere. He has spent many an hour confessing how alone he’s felt all his life. You’d like to think you helped. You picked up your guitar and played a familiar song, one you knew he loved.

“Life was a willow and it bent right to your wind , as if you were a mythical thing

Like you were a trophy or a champion ring, and there was one prize I'd cheat to win

The more that you say, the less I know

Wherever you stray, I follow

I'm begging for you to take my hand, wreck my plans

That's my man”

You sat like this for hours, laughing and playing and singing. You tried to teach him a couple of chords on the guitar, which looked puny in his massive hands. With a loud thud, the open to the recreation centre swung open, making both of your heads turn in shock. 

“Lo’ak, what the fuck?” 

The harsh tone came from a man, a man you barely recognised anymore. Tall and muscular, he was not the same Neteyam you last saw. He was adorning a carefully crafted neck piece that matched his hunter’s chest piece and the knife holder he kept by his hips. You took a second to adjust to the man in front of you, that you haven’t seen in so long, that will always have a special place in your heart. Your gaze eventually fell on his face, which, like the rest of him, matured so much in all that time apart. He was beautiful. His hair was freshly braided and you couldn’t help but stare at the beaded strands that framed his face. As much as his body and face changed, they didn’t hold a candle to his eyes. The big yellow orbs that always looked at you curiously and intently were now focused on Lo’ak with rage flashed across them. 

“You were supposed to meet me at the Home Tree a fucking hour ago, Lo’ak. Dad asked you to join the hunting party and pull your weight for once, remember that? Are you physically unable to do anything that is ever asked of you?” 

He is yet to even spare a glance in your direction. You felt your blood pressure rising at the oldest Sully, but you pushed it down to look at Lo’ak, who was staring daggers at his older brother. As he was opening his mouth to undoubtedly say something that would get him in even more trouble than he was already in, you cut him off. 

“It’s my fault.” You say in Na’vi. You doubted Neteyam was in the mood for English, so as to not escalate the tensions further, you opted for your semi-decent Na’vi. “I needed his help with some samples Norm got for me that I couldn’t identify. I’m done now, though. Sorry for taking him from his duties.”

His eyes finally snapped from Lo’ak and laded on your frame. You saw his lips parting in confusion and then settle in a firm line. His eyes scanned your body from head to toe. You changed. A lot. Your hair was now close to reaching your narrow waist, which he hated himself for noticing. You were wearing what the humans called a “top”, that was cut above your abdomen and had the word “Stanford” written across it. He’s sure he’s seen it before, although he couldn’t place where. You were wearing bottoms, short and blue, with cuts in them, which Neteyam didn’t get. Why are your clothes ripped? It’s not like you fought some animal in the wild, you never got out. He couldn’t help noticing how lean you had become, so lean, in fact, he could trace your muscles with precision, something he is rarely able to do with humans. Your species was puny and weak, which is why they needed avatars and exo-suits to survive on Pandora. Realizing he was staring, his eyes moved from you back to Lo’ak, and motioned for him to get up. Although he huffed and puffed, Lo’ak obliged without saying a word. He turned around before exiting the room, giving you one last exasperated look. You winked at him and clicked your tongue in the direction of the forest, a small smile on your face. This skxawng. 

“Hey, you.” You called after Neteyam in English, as soon as Lo’ak disappeared from your line of view. You don’t know what you expected, but you had to try. He turned around and his eyes met yours. It was like looking at a stranger. 

“I really have to go, Y/N.” He said, with a deep voice and slight accent, and his eyes fell on the floor as soon as he noticed the look of hurt that crossed your face. 

“Fine, go.” You said, quickly composing yourself. You refused to give him the satisfaction of knowing he can hurt your feelings. You turned around, and busied yourself cleaning up, not sparing a second look in his direction. His gaze shifted back to your frame, and with a sigh, he made his way out of the lab and your life, once more. 

[soupbitch-moneybitch]

something i really love about david jenkins' school of doing whatever the fuck you want when writing fiction is that it's given writers a lot more confidence to write things they'd otherwise be too nervous to write. there seems to be a disproportionate amount of really weird, niche ofmd fanfics compared to other fandoms (which i adore! no hate!), and i think part of it is that people are less worried about making all the details perfect. like, we have people who are like, "i've always been interested in 19th century coal production and would love to write a fic that takes place during that era, but what if i can't do it justice because i haven't done enough research??" but now you can just be like "i went to the david jenkins' school of doing whatever the fuck you want, so if there are inaccuracies no there are not 😊"

i just think it's really cool, that people can be more creative and daring now because they don't have to worry about getting every little thing right. if your gay pirate show can make absolutely no sense, so can your fanfic. and that translates to your short stories, or novels, or poetry, or artwork

idk. it's more than just a silly pirate show. it's important. it impacts people's art in a serious way, and that's neat as hell

we're all honorary doctorate students to the david jenkins' school of doing whatever the fuck you want, so let's make weird art, fam✌🏽

[aprocessionofthoughts]

To succeed is to fail

whumptober2023 day 9- mistaken identity fandom- Danny phantom x Batman TW- nothing summary- The Amity Parkers have the opportunity (they didn't want) to explore Gotham. It's just too bad that Danny looks a lot like adoption bait.

First of all, I’d like to state that I know this is whumptober. But the story disagreed. So now we have whumpcracktober.

ao3 masterlist part 1 of APVG

They were not supposed to be here. They didn't want to be here. They hadn’t even tried to be here. Yet luck had never been on the Amity Parker’s side before, and they should have realized this would be no different.

It was their senior year and things around Amity had calmed down. Or at least everyone was used to Amity’s special brand of crazy.

He had told his parents about Phantom and they had helped hunt down the GIW. Most of Amity was discovered to be liminal and most of the young people had developed some basic abilities. 

And then Mrs. Abernagaby decided that their science final would be a group project. This wasn’t anything new. Every year Casper participated in the Helping Intelligent Minds Be Outstanding competition–better known as the HIMBO competition.

And usually the smartest seniors would be picked to work on a group project to submit. Casper High had never won. So, this year Mrs. Abrnagaby decided that all the seniors could work on it together. Because more heads were better than one!

Obviously she didn’t remember what being part of a group project felt like. And she obviously didn't account for the fact that no one would care.

They weren’t even told what the award was since it varied year to year and was meant to be a surprise.

All they were told was that they had to design a new air filtration system.

So, being seniors who had survived ghost attacks, invasions, their town being pulled into another dimension, dealing with the GIW, and making it through adjusting to Amity shifting to the stranger side as everyone's liminality began to show, they did not try.

Which was how they ended up with this masterpiece.

The challenge was to design a new air filtrator. Which if they had wanted to, would have been easy since air filters that would reduce the amount of ectoplasm in the air had been designed before the residents realized it was too late to do any good, and so they had never been made.

They didn’t even submit a design; it was a paper mache volcano covered in everyone’s failed tests. The accompanying research paper they were supposed to submit had Dash’s and Paulina’s self-insert fanfics with– you guessed it– phantom as the love interest. Danny had tried to make them remove it since it was awkward now that they knew who he was, but they had claimed they wrote it before they knew. Danny knew this was a lie because they were lying liars who lied. 

The paper also included one of Sam’s activist papers, Wes’s conspiracies about Bruce Wayne being Batman’s sugar daddy (now that everyone knew Danny was Phantom Wes didn’t feel the need to include that research (he also believed that Batman was Bruce Wayne but didn’t want to antagonize the furry who could ruin his life)). 

Tucker had included evidence of a Pentagon hack he had done a few years ago, Mikey had drawn some incredible fanart about Green Lantern (he said this would have the greatest effect on Gothamites and Wes agreed saying Batman didn’t like Green Lantern. How he knew this, no one asked.).

And lastly, they attached a file of them doing the Harlem Shake.

Mrs. Abernagaby hadn’t even looked at it before sending it off.

And then of course they had won. And what a grand prize it was! They won a trip to Gotham to explore the various big businesses, as well as a chance to apply at those locations for internships. Yeah… Sam had found out all the other schools had dropped out after finding out the prize. No one wanted to go to Gotham. But the school said it was a learning opportunity! To see what it was like outside Amity! To see what normal was supposed to be like!

So, they were forced to go, but at least they got Mr. Lancer as their supervisor and they wouldn’t even have to take a long bus ride because Amity was friends with Gotham. Apparently there weren’t very many Living Cities and the two liked to talk. They also thought it would be hilarious if the Amity Parkers went to Gotham. So, Amity had temporarily turned the road that left the city into a portal that led to Gotham’s border, and at the end of the week Gotham would return them.

And that was how he had ended up here. In the back of a smelly van with a smelly bag over his head surrounded by smelly men probably heading to a smelly, sketchy location. All because these men were stupid and thought he was some Wayne kid.

Sure, he could have gotten out. But this was honestly more interesting than touring another boring building and having to almost get mugged again.

..........

AN-I plan to continue this but it probably won’t be until after October because I want to focus on completing the challenges I'm participating in.

[walkawaytall]

I am very stressed about a thing that I can’t discuss right now that I have literally no control over, so here’s some

fanfic writer asks

that I came up with all on my own. Ask ‘em, share ‘em, do whatever.

Have you pulled inspiration from media sources other than the property your fic is related to (a plot point from a TV show that has nothing to do with the characters/setting of the fic, a line from a book, etc.)? If so, for which story? Why did you find that media source compelling?

What is your favorite paragraph from (insert story title you want to know about here, or leave it blank for writer’s choice)? Is there a reason it’s your favorite?

What is the most amount of research you’ve done for the smallest detail? What was the detail and how much time/effort went into researching it?

Share a headcanon about (character name) in (story title)!

Is there a tiny detail in one of your fics that you feel goes tragically unnoticed?

What is your favorite type of feedback to receive (favorites/kudos, comments, DMs, complete and utter silence in the pursuit of remaining unperceived?)? If comments or DMs or anything else involving a reader writing, do you have a particular type of feedback that excites you more than other types?

Share a line or paragraph you’ve written that you don’t think will ever actually be posted in anything! (Or, if you don’t hoard cut sentences and passages like I do, share anything you want that has yet to see the light of day!)

Is there a story idea you have that you would love if it could appear fully realized but that you do not think you’ll ever write yourself?

Do you prefer to read angst or fluff? Which do you prefer to write?

If you could banish a single trope to live at the bottom of the ocean, never to be seen again by any human eyes (or at least your own), which trope would that be?

Conversely, if you had to pick a single trope to read for the next seven-and-half years, which trope would that be?

What are your thoughts on slow burn romances?

Are you secretly Tara Gilesbie aka XXXbloodyrists666XXX aka author of infamous Harry Potter fanfiction serial My Immortal? (you can trust me; I won’t tell anyone, pinky promise)

Has anyone ever created anything (art, a podfic, another fic, etc.) inspired by your work? Which work? How did you feel about that?

Is there any genre, trope, or style that you find particularly challenging to write? Do you enjoy the challenge or prefer to avoid it?

Is there a commonly held misconception about one of your stories that you’d like to correct for the masses?

What does your editing process look like?

Share a headcanon relating to (insert desired theme here)!

What was the very first fanwork you ever created? (I’m talking like maybe you made a little book out of construction paper and staples with your favorite Disney characters drawn in it when you were five years old or you drew a comic about a movie you saw when you were a preteen. That sort of thing.)

Is there anything about any one of your fics that you have been dying to discuss but haven’t had the chance to?

[fight-nights-at-freddys]

hey there! Feel free to block me if you want, especially if you find this rude or anything. This is actually genuine, i’m NOT being sarcastic or anti.

i’m on the fence about proshipping. On the one hand, don’t like it? Don’t read it. I’ve read some crazy fanfiction that teeters on the line, but that’s not the point. On the other hand, it gets to a point where…you’re just normalizing r@pe or inc3st in fiction. And people say it’s just fiction, but fiction can definitely influence reality! But writing shouldn’t be censored. People should be free to write what they want, however they want. It’s art and should be treated with the same diligence. However, the when, where and how proshipping fanfics are presented SHOULD MATTER. It’s not censorship to require warning tags, or restrict it from young readers more severely.

okay, that’s my little rant lol. Again, i’m not gonna think you hate me if you block me and never answer this ask. Just wanted to get some other points of view and share my own.

dwdw. and thank you for being so respectful and nice abt it <3 anti or not, its always appreciated/gen

and i (personally) have some views that are probably pretty controversial LMAO. Which is pretty much, if something is normalized in fiction and it doesn’t breach over into real life, we’re okay.

say for instance, murder is common in fiction, it has been justified, shown as good, etc etc. practically doesn’t get portrayed or seen as bad. yet irl if someone goes out there and kills a random family, ppl aren’t going to go ��oh yeah, thats normal” they’re going to be upset and appalled for what that persons done.

same thing with incest and rape, theres been a lot of fanfics over the years that have those two things, yet both are absolutely abhorrent in real life bc they hurt people, and no amount of normalizing it in fiction will normalize it irl.

And we can even get into old examples like with Greek Mythology where rape and the incest were seen as normal(-ish) in the stories, and still, people think that those things are horrible in real life, so fiction didn’t affect reality there. So, why would it change with like, idk, a wincest or willmike fics.

yes writing can influence reality, but only if you let it. Do research, look at studies, don’t rely on words that a random person made up to tell a story, because then, you are at fault, not the creator or the work. (You spoken generally here, not at you anon)

If you live your life and base your knowledge only on fiction and nothing more, then yeah, your reality is going to be skewed, but again, thats not the fictions fault. - 🧁🍕

ofcofc! so, just to clear up any confusion, being proship JUST means being anti-harassment, and pro-ship and let ship. you don't gotta like what other people ship, you just gotta respect them enough to be able to block and move on.

i def agree, tags should be applied correctly, and mature content should be age restricted, but there's a limit to that imo. like, i wouldn't agree with sites making you show your ID or anything, due to the invasion of privacy, when a lot of the issue of kids being in spaces they shouldn't be could be solved by better parenting.

i also don't agree that certain kinds of fiction "normalize" rape or incest. fiction CAN influence reality, sure, but it's never gonna make you go from "incest bad" to "incest good" just from watching, like. game of thrones, ya know? there would 100% have to be a problem with the individual to begin with to even reach those kinda conclusions (and that's largely a problem with lack of parenting, education, or mental health resources)

my point is, if someone reads a yucky darkfic, and rape/murder/incest/whatever is depicted as good, it is still on you as the viewer as to how you react to it.

again, it's totally fine to think those kinds of fics/ships are disgusting! you're allowed to feel your feelings! but to assume that everyone who reads those fics has even the potential to be bad people just because they read those things is, like. objectively the wrong way to go about things

#/nm ofc - 🏁🎸

[shihalyfie]

I've alluded to tri. having some very troubled production behind the scenes, and among everything that apparently went on back there, there seem to have been at least two major bottlenecks: 1) the fact that the director (who, based on his own statements about deliberately not consulting source material, most likely didn't even watch Adventure to begin with) kept asking everyone to make things more "mature" without being clear on what that actually meant, and 2) the fact they ran out of budget and had to rewrite the entire plot halfway into it. Even the most brilliant of creators probably wouldn't be able to work at their best under such conditions.

But conversely, this also means that there were some excellent people involved in production whose efforts probably haven't been as appreciated as they should be! So I want to take a moment to spotlight some people I want to give props to:

Ayana Yuniko and Nakanishi Yasuhiro: These two scriptwriters were childhood Digimon fans who were thrilled to be on the project, and their enthusiasm clearly shows in every interview they were in. Ayana even made keen observations like noticing that the Adventure kids aren't as super-tight as people tend to make them out to be (something I've pointed out myself, and something that generally only tends to crop up among fans who have studied the series closely), and Nakanishi stated that she would slip him detailed notes about the characters and their relationships.

Both of them stated they were trying to portray the Adventure characters in a character-accurate way but kept getting their scripts rejected for not being "mature" enough, leaving them unsure about what they were supposed to do. Their roles on the series were also limited; Ayana was on parts 1, 2, and 4 while Nakanishi was on part 4 only, and they were sharing the scriptwriter role with multiple others (even within a single movie). But if I were asked to pick who on the staff list I would want to see come back for another Digimon work, it would absolutely be these two.

Kakikara Yuuko: The one in charge of overall writing for the series. tri. had a total of five scriptwriters and could have up to four(!) on a given movie, so because of that, her statements on the series and its story direction have been a bit difficult to tell whether it was her idea personally or whether she was delivering the writing room's discussion result. But one of her final statements on the series basically amounted to "I'm grateful if you even came to watch it to the end at all," and she was quite humble about saying she felt things could have been done differently; considering it sounds like she had a hard time keeping everyone and everything in order, I can only imagine she went through a lot trying to make sure everything ended safely. Incidentally, her writing portfolio is also quite respectable (and even includes kids' shows).

Suzuki Takaaki: The person with the job of "setting researcher", i.e. the one with the job of looking into the lore. Sadly, it seems like most of his ideas didn't make it into the final series (possibly because of the budget loss-induced rewrite), but his one solo interview indicates that he put quite a bit of conscientious thought into how Digital World lore works, including the idea of an EMP weapon that would affect Digimon easily but not humans (an idea that doesn't pop up among fans as often as you'd think, and took up until last year to make it into actual Adventure material via Takeru's 02TB in-universe fanfic).

Sakabe Gou: The person in charge of the series BGM. We haven't heard a lot from him, but the little we have indicates that although he also had difficulty understanding what the director was asking for when he wanted "mature" music of some kind, he himself put some very thorough thought put into the composition. In particular, he went into detail regarding the music used at the beginning of part 4, which seems to be a fan-favorite track from what I've seen (it's also my favorite too!). Sakabe also has an extensive and respectable portfolio outside Digimon; in particular, he's very highly regarded in Kamen Rider circles, so if you have a friend who's a fan, it might be a good idea to ask them about it!

[harrysmmm]

𝐂𝐡𝐚𝐩𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝟏 - 𝐓𝐡𝐞 𝐇𝐞𝐢𝐫 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐓𝐡𝐞 𝐏𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐜𝐞 𝐨𝐟 𝐒𝐥𝐲𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐫𝐢𝐧

Fanfiction: The Relics of Hogwarts (CLICK THE LINK BEFORE READING THIS)

Draco malfoy x Y/N Riddle (f!reader)

A/N: First chapter of the fanfic! It took me a whole week to write this, and a whole week to create the plot of the story. This chapter sets the tone for what is to come - more draco and the reader's interactions will happen in the following chapters. I am beyond excited to be posting this, I hope you guys enjoy it - I really had the best time writing it (it helps me deal with reality which I very much thank). Also, two things before you go and read it: one, my mother tongue is not English, once again, so forgive me for any mistake or wrong word that I might've used; two, every paragraph or conversation that is written in italic is a flashback (I think it was clear but just to be hella clear). That's everything for me to say... also you don't know the amount of research I've had to do in order to be precise on every description, family line, Hogwarts system... it's crazy the number of tabs I've opened during the creation of all of it. Last thing, I have never done this before but if you'd like to be on the taglist for each time I post a new chapter, put it in the comments or write me an inbox and I'll gladly do it! I'm going to try to do my best and post a chapter every week - two would be ideal. I tend to write pretty long chapters so it takes me a lot of time to finish them. I'm going to stop writing, this is becoming addictive. Love you, this fic is for all of you out there.

W/C: 4.3K

masterlist here

Summer was about to come to an end. It was pouring rain in the Scottish mountain range; a wild, twisted, ravaging storm that left a lifeless valley at its steps. Someone was rushing through the vast hallways, crackling footsteps as he was approaching the stone gargoyle. He whispered in a low, hoarse voice: “Cockroach clusters”. A stoned spiraled staircase revealed itself behind the statue, he marched them upstairs.

At the top, a wooden door was slightly opened revealing at its gap a dim light and an overwhelming heat. Under this particular weather, there was a need of a fireplace.

The professor stepped in the headmaster’s office.

“Severus,” Albus Dumbledore, headmaster of the Wizarding School, Hogwarts, greeted the man, “what can I do for you in this, rather hectic evening?”

“I –” he stopped, having been interrupted by a loud thunder, “have some news from You Know Who.”

Dumbledore froze for a moment. “Ah!” he uttered, heading towards his centered desk, and sitting down. “Tell me what you know.”

“You Know Who’s daughter is supposedly coming to Hogwarts this year.”

“How is that possible?” Dumbledore seemed confused.

“He has gotten back in contact with her, after seventeen years,” Snape said in a monotone voice of his range. “I have been told to keep an eye on her.”

The storm was heavily attacking the gleaming windows.

“This is no coincidence - I suppose you know that, Severus.”

“I… assumed.”

“Voldemort has something in mind – something that involves the school – or Potter.”

“The child has always been in his sight, why would it be that now he is looking to get to him by sending his abandoned daughter off to school while she has a cursed bloodline herself, it seems a little…odd… from my perspective, Professor.”

“You’re right, Severus - but we need to be en garde.” Dumbledore was looking all around his desk seeming to try to dismantle this new information. “Does the girl know why she’s coming?”

“It seems like she does.”

“U-huh,” he replied. “Well, the link between Draco’s commended mission to kill me and the arrival of Voldemort’s daughter is evident; he’s trying to gain some presence within the school.”

“And,” he continued, “the girl and Draco have known each other merely from birth, they’ve grown up together as siblings, haven’t they, Severus?”

“I wouldn’t use the word siblings, Professor – as far as I know, they roughly consider each other cousins.”

“Right, right, cousins…”

“Professor,” uttered Snape.

“Huh?”

“What should I do?”

“Well,” Dumbledore got up and walked towards the animal that was gripping a stand cage. It was an elegant phoenix; he had crimson feathers covering his entire body and a long golden tail resembling that of a peacock. His name was Fawkes. Dumbledore caressed the animal as he continued, “you have no choice – she will have to attend this year at Hogwarts. In fact, she will directly be put into Slytherin, that way your task will be eased.”

“If I may, I don’t think she would’ve been sorted into any other house, giving her lineage, Professor.”

“Right, descendant of Salazar Slytherin, right…” Dumbledore didn’t seem to be there, his thoughts spiraling up, trying to find the connecting factor.

“I see you… pensive” said Snape in return.

Dumbledore moved from the bird to the East of the room and stood next to the recollection of memories bottled up in glass jars.

“We both know, Severus, that Voldemort doesn’t hold any sort of affection towards his daughter; he’s incapable of it.” He frenetically moved to the West of the room. “That girl has been raised by Druella Black, mother of the living Bellatrix Lestrange and Narcissa Malfoy. The girl has never had any contact with her father, nor her mother for that matter.”

“If I may ask… what happened to the mother?”

“Well, no one knows what happened to her; no one even knows who she is. Voldemort hasn’t had any known-of partner in his life.”

“Right,” replied Snape. “Although the girl has, so it seems, a tight relation with the Diggory family.”

“The Diggorys… Cedric Diggory? The boy that Voldemort killed during the Triwizard Tournament?” inquired Dumbledore.

“Indeed. She’s presumably close to his father, Amos Diggory, who works in the Ministry of Magic.” completed Snape.

“How?”

“I don’t know, but she will come to the school as his niece, omitting her last name Riddle.”

“A façade.” Dumbledore had a lost look.

“Yes.”

“There’s a lot of things that we can’t grasp, Severus. You will keep an eye on her, I will deal with the rest.”

“As you wish.”

Snape turned around, swinging his cape as he moved to the door.

“Severus,” Dumbledore called him, before he could walk away, “Hogwarts is, once again, being threatened. This time, it might be the last time”. He looked at his hand, a black dark magic had scattered through most of it.

Snape understood his words but didn’t reply.

A black figure made his way down the enchanted staircase.

ྀ࿔

The hallways were full of students. Bustling chatter about summertime and vacations was spreading around the walls of the entrance hall. First years were arriving in canoes through the Great Lake that surrounded Hogwarts while upper years were progressively making an entrance, after getting off the Hogwarts Express.

She noticed the attunes of most students. Black robes seemed to be the official uniform, with varying colors on the hood, sleeves and the edge of the front depending on the student who was wearing it. At the front of it, there was a patch in accordance with the colors of the robe – she assumed it was the house patch of the student. She particularly laid her eyes on the green one, the one who seemed to have a snake in the middle. She knew that Father had attended the school – and even if she was mostly ignorant about the school system and supposed houses, she knew her father had been a green-robed student.

Snape started to climb up the Grand Stairs, she followed him. Various students and professors were hectically going up and down the stairs, making her have to pay attention to not brush shoulders with any of them. Snape was not looking back at her, swinging from side to side as if he knew seconds ahead who was going to go up or down.

Her mind wondered back to the reason why she was there; to the mission Father had commended her to do. She had heard about Wizarding Schools, Hogwarts in particular, since nearly her birth. However, Druella never wanted her to get mingled with academic wizards and witches, fearing for her life as a Riddle. That last name did not follow any welcoming reception in the Wizarding World. But after Father’s come back, things have changed all around.

She couldn’t help but travel back to the moment it all started.

“F-father?” she called him, pitch black consuming the entire room of the Malfoy Manor.

She could hear him moving. Hollow wooden floorboards slowly crackling at his steps. She could also hear his snake hissing - that’s how she knew he was standing in front of her.

“Child,” he finally said with a whispery, throaty voice, “I missed you.”

She felt two arms making their way to her ribs while slowly tangling behind her on what seemed to be a hug. She didn’t move, shivering of horror.

“My daughter.” She felt the air of his voice in her ear, making her swift breathing be noticed.

She understood that he knew she was afraid.

His arms were no longer wrapping her, and she felt how he was circling her by the crackling wood yet again.

“How have the Blacks been treating you?”

She gasped.

“Fair enough…Father.”

He seemed to have moved to the other side of the room.

“And the Malfoys? The young boy, Draco, is he nice to you?”

She tried to relax her breathing.

“He is - they all have always treated me as one of their own.”

“But you’re not one of them, are you?”. He moved closer to her again, as she felt his snake sliding next to her foot.

“I-I guess I’m not.” She could’ve sworn she saw a monster in front of her. She closed her eyes tightly.

“Your stay with them might’ve been enjoyable, but I’m afraid you must leave.”

Something in her stopped when she heard those words.

“Where?” she inquired.

“To the Diggorys.”

“I don’t know who they are.”

He was standing in front of her. She could sense it.

“They are nice people that will take you under their roof – now, I need you to befriend them, become one of them. You will need to take on their last name.”

She didn’t say a word and let him continue.

“I need some things that lay within the walls of Hogwarts; some things that someone wants to steal.”

“Harry Potter,” she whispered, not being able to contain herself.

“Do not mention his name!” he raised his voice, and she could feel his face almost touching hers.

She nearly started sobbing.

“You don’t get to say his name in front of me, do you understand?”

“Yes.”

“Good.” He leaned back some inches from her. “Some objects that are in the castle belong to me. I hid them so they would be safe - but it has come to my attention that they might be in danger.”

She kept listening.

“When the time comes, I will need you to go to Hogwarts as a Diggory and bring those objects back to me. You will be fully awarded for the act,” he paused, “and gain your place by my side.”

She heavily breathed when she heard that. After all those years, her father was offering her a chance to make him proud, to honor her last name, to have a family.

“What are these objects?”

“You’ll must bring me the cup of Helga Hufflepuff, the diadem of Rowena Ravenclaw, the locket of Salazar Slytherin and the sword of Godric Gryffindor. All of them make the Relics of Hogwarts.”

“Now,” he continued, “you will leave to the Diggorys tomorrow morning. I will be back to tell you when you will attend Hogwarts.” He paused. “I’m afraid I must leave you now, dear girl.”

“Father?” She needed to ask.

“Yes?”

“Who is my mother?” she asked away. She figured that now that he needed her, he couldn’t hurt her for asking.

The seconds that lasted the silence lingered in her like a death sentence.

“Your mother ran away as she had the chance. I would be tarnishing your name by speaking of her.”

She knew that wasn’t the truth; she sensed it in his voice.

“Did you love her?”

He breathed heavily; he was getting tired of this conversation. He swiftly approached her once again.

“Love does not exist. Don’t let them bewitch your mind.”

And just like that, he vanished through dark smoke.

ྀ࿔

“Hogwarts. What a pathetic excuse for a school,” Draco snapped. “I’d pitch myself off the Astronomy Tower if I had to continue for another two years.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?” Pansy Parkinson, close friend of Draco, replied.

“Let’s just say, I don’t think you’ll see me wasting my time in Charms class next year.”

Draco, Pansy and Blaise were sitting down in a wagon of the Hogwarts Express. Draco knew it was his last time returning to Hogwarts. He also knew his biggest stress this year was not going to be about returning good grades home or beating Potter in the Quidditch finals. The Dark Lord had commended him a very important mission, and now that his father was facing sentence in Azkaban, he had to bear with the responsibility of the family’s loyalty towards the Dark plan.

Blaise blurted out a small chuckle to Draco’s words.

“Amused, Blaise?” the blonde boy replied. “We’ll see just who’s laughing in the end.”

Draco heard a noise coming from the rack above their seats and saw his bag having slightly been moved. Someone was eavesdropping on the conversation through an invisibility spell, and he bet on bloody Potter. He didn’t talk much after knowing the conversation was not confidential. In what twisted pathetic adventure was Potter trying to be the hero on this time? His blood was boiling by just having to pretend not knowing he was there. That tosser that everyone always praised – he wouldn’t last two days in his position. After all, life was not about heroic acts, corny speeches, and lucky fate – some people had been given a family name to respect, an expectation to be met. He thought, once again, about the mission that had been commended to him by the Dark Lord; how his wand would have to end the life of the greatest wizard alive; how he would go onto History as the man who assassinated Albus Dumbledore. He realized his hands were sweaty and his heartbeat higher than normal. He tried to keep his composure in front of everyone in the wagon and fixed his gaze on the rich green Scottish fields – clouds welcoming him to a thunderstorm.

ྀ࿔

“Ah! Y/N Diggory! Come in, come in…” Dumbledore greeted the girl in his office.

“Thank you,” she replied, following Snape. She didn’t take too much time to have a look at the curious, but glamorous place.

“Do you fancy my office? I must admit I am really fond of collecting peculiar objects,” he approached a table where all sorts of outlandish things were scattered. She noticed the blackness of his hand when he grabbed one of the objects, “I don’t always know what they do but I find them really unique as room decoration, don’t you think?”

“I’m sure being the headmaster has its advantages when it comes to decorating.”

“Oh, being the headmaster has plenty of advantages, Miss. Diggory,” he replied in a whispery tone.

“Now, you, as a new Hogwarts student, have also a lot of advantages;” he continued, “First of all, you are skipping from year one to year six, so you won’t have to bear first years’ Potions on how to make a cure for boils or first year’s Defense Against the Dark Arts on how to cast an Expelliermus.”

You simply nodded.

“Then, Professor Snape has told me that you’ve already passed through the Sorting Hat and you have been assigned to Slytherin, is that correct, Severus?”

“It is.”

It was not correct. She hadn’t gone through any house assignation, but she understood that Dumbledore didn’t know about it, and that Snape had probably settled her in Slytherin for a reason – therefore, she didn’t question it.

“Wonderful. An ambitious, clever girl, I see”.

She smirked at him. She bet he was not by any means a Slytherin himself.

“Lastly, I assume you have all this year’s textbooks, ingredients, plants, constellation maps, perhaps? Oh! I assume you have a pet by now! And a wand…”

She looked at Snape, knowing that she hadn’t bought any of those things herself. Except for the wand that she got at Ollivanders when she was eleven, after Druella had told her she would get a private tutor to teach her magic.

“She has,” Snape simply replied, without giving her any look back.

“Then everything seems to be settled. How are you feeling, Miss. Diggory?” Dumbledore deeply stared at her. This time, she felt like he really wanted to know the answer.

“Really honored to join the school, Sir.”

“My door is always open for any visits. Never underestimate the magic of being listened, Miss. Diggory.”

She nodded and followed Snape downstairs, thinking she was probably never going to step into that office again.

Snape and Y/N arrived at the dungeons of the school, where the Slytherin dormitories could be found. Snape turned around to talk to Y/N.

“All of your things are in your dorm, number 3, all the schedule and times are also in your dorm, the password to the common room is pure-blood… don’t want you sneaking after ten p.m. or you could get… into trouble.” His intimidating black eyes were on hers. He turned around with a swing of his cape.

“Oh,” He turned towards her again, “supper starts at six.”

She was alone in the castle for the first time. She uttered the password on a low voice and a bare stretch of stone wall opened, leading her to a corridor. Once she walked through it, only lightened by torches hang up on the stone walls, she arrived at the common room. It was a high ceiling, ample room; dark green shades flickering from the multiple windows. Low backed black and dark green button-tufted, leather sofas were placed all around the room; skulls on top of tables; and dark wood cupboards. Tapestries of numerous medieval figures decorated the walls. Y/N noticed the highlighted portrait of an old man that she recognized to be Salazar Slytherin, founder of the Slytherin house and one of the four founders of Hogwarts. She knew this because she was a distant relative of his, through her father of course. She noticed she was alone and headed directly to her dorm.

Her dorm was a five-bed room with one bathroom. She recognized her bag next to one of the beds. On the side table, she found a pile of textbooks; she started leafing through some of the books: Advanced Potion-Making, A Guide To Advanced Transfiguration, Flesh-Eating Trees Of The World… Her eyes wondered to the parchment at the right where her schedule and attending courses were shown. She started to read through the different school norms and times when she felt something brushing her leg. She startled at the contact when she saw a small black kitten going under her bed. She kneeled and grabbed it, putting it on the bed. The kitten had big emerald eyes that were looking into hers, as if it had some sort of human spirit inside.

“You must be my pet, huh?” She grabbed it again and looked to confirm the sex. “A Miss… Should give you a name, shouldn’t I?” She laid down on her bed caressing the kitten on her chest, thinking of a name for her. She realized that it was the first time she let herself sink down and relax since her arrival. A lot of thoughts were constantly crossing her mind telling her to focus on everything, to plan everything, to think about everything – it was exhausting. Exhausting… she came up with something.

“Your name is Exhonia. What do you think?” she asked the kitten as if she was going to reply. The kitten was scratching her jumper.

“Okay Exhonia, don’t get too ahead on yourself.” She grabbed the rather turbulent cat and placed it next to her on the bed.

The only time she had ever dealt with a cat was a the Diggory’s house, near Ottery St Catchpole. Cedric’s pet had been a brown and white cat, a rather upset one she might add, especially when Cedric was not around anymore. She had gone to the Diggory’s a month after the boy’s death when Father had asked her to.

“What can I do for you, dear?” a middle-aged man, short and plump opened the door of the cottage.

“My name is Y/N, Sir – is this the Diggory’s house?”

“Yes, yes… what is it that you want?” he wouldn’t entirely open the front door, as if he didn’t trust the world outside.

“I came to talk to you. I was really close to Cedric.”

The man seemed to freeze.

“And I was hoping to come and meet you since you would’ve been my father-in-law”.

And that is how she managed to spend a year living under the roof of the Diggorys. Amos Diggory fully believed her when she told him the story of how she was supposed to marry Cedric once he would end the Triwizard Tournament; how they had wanted to wait until the end of it to tell his parents. She told him, through a little bit of sobbing, how her parents had dropped dead on a car accident, being herself a muggle-born, and that the only family she had left was the Diggorys – even if she had never met them before. Amos and his wife found in her a beam of light; the spirit of Cedric in a beautiful fifteen-year-old girl. They never questioned the story, nor her intentions and adopted her as a Diggory that had always belonged in the family. It was not until one year later that Y/N shared with them her dream of attending Hogwarts, as Father had contacted her back and told her it was time she fulfilled her mission. They accepted with little objection, happy that they could spoil a girl as they once did to Cedric. Y/N, as a sign of gratitude, asked them if she could inherit their last name, to which they happily agreed. She became Y/N Diggory, niece of Mr. and Mrs. Diggory, as she told them it would be more appropriate taking into consideration that no one knew about her planned marriage with Cedric. Even if Y/N didn’t really want to get mingled in the Diggorys life, she knew they were living in delusion, desperately looking to fill the void of their son’s death – which Y/N, in a way, managed to do. They were in need of a miracle, she offered them the fairiest of fairy tales… who cared if it was all a script of lies at the end of the day?

Her thoughts came back to the present moment when she heard a bell chiming the hour. Six, so she counted. She decided to go down for supper, still curious that no students had yet come to the common room.

She walked up the stairs and dived through the hallways, meeting no one on the way. When she started to hear some familiar voice she recognized as to Dumbledore’s, she followed it, understanding she was somehow late to some sort of first day speech. But in the middle of her wanderings, an old-wrinkled man with a cat yelled at her.

“And what do you think you’re doing lurking in the hallways?” He firmly grabbed her by the arm.

“I was looking for the Great H- let go of me!” she replied, trying to get rid of his grip.

“The headmaster will hear about your wanderings, young lady!” He dragged her towards the doors of the Great Hall. Both doors slammed open when he pushed them with his bare hand. Dumbledore’s speech was immediately interrupted. Hundreds of eyes turned towards the old man’ and Y/N’s direction.

“Headmaster, sorry to provoke such an entrance but I found this girl wandering around the castle, missing the opening ceremony” he gave her away to everyone in the room. He pushed her forward so everyone could see who he was screaming about.

She stood at the beginning of the corridor between the students’ tables. She looked ahead, Dumbledore standing up in a podium, several professors sitting down behind him and, of course, a few inches away from her, long tables filled with students of different ages, different houses, staring at her like she was the most bizarre specimen. She decided to say something.

“Sir, I-“

“There’s no need, Miss. Diggory,” after her last name had been dropped, all students started to look at each other, mumbles starting to form, “you can join your table with the other Slytherin students.”

She didn’t reply, hearing how the room had become a cloud of voices at this point.

“Thank you Argus for the help. But, Miss. Diggory was just lost, being this her first day at Hogwarts.” The voices intensified. “Now, while it is always very joyful to welcome new students, I must ask you to stop the chatter.” Students seemed to listen to him, and seconds later there was little to no sound.

Y/N sat down on the first free seat at the Slytherin table, still feeling like half of the students’ gazes were settled on her. Once Dumbledore had proceeded with his speech, she discretely took a look on the people that surrounded her. Four large tables divided the Great Hall, one for each house. Her gaze wondered through the Gryffindor table, looking for a certain scared-boy. She of course knew about the prophecy, as well as she knew the history between him and her father. She had thought about eventually meeting Harry Potter but never really figured how she would react to his presence. Should she hate him, pity him, fear him? The boy was her age – which didn’t leave a lot of room for fear. But she was still curious to see how they would react to one another, even if the boy was unaware of who her father was, as well as everyone. She guessed she would eventually meet the chosen one during class.

Her eyes turned back to Dumbledore, who was finishing talking, when someone pulled their arm towards her.

“They are calling you from there,” a dark-haired boy told her, while pointing to the other side of the long table.

She switched her focus to look for the person who was calling her. A blonde boy tilted his head down to meet her gaze. He playfully tilted his eyebrows while a smirk made its way to his face. She smiled at him while slowly shaking her head. It was no other than the heir of the Malfoys himself. He stared deep into her eyes a little longer, then shifted his gaze back to some Professor that had started talking. She looked at him a little longer, letting herself feel for no more than five seconds the accelerated heartbeat that she was still unfamiliar with. She eventually switched her gaze back to the Professor too. The Slytherin heir was back at Hogwarts, and this time, she had the Prince of Slytherin by her side.

part two