#the pinnacle fanfiction

[let-me-love-you-loki]

... Ready for It? -- Ch. 4

Chapter 4

I followed Wardlow into the restaurant, unable to stop the feeling of confusion that settled over me. Just a few minutes ago he��d been shouting at me on the side of the road. He’d been so brutally angry at the whole thing I’d brought upon him. Now, he seemed completely different. Like the last few hours hadn’t happened at all. 

            “Booth or bar?” he asked over his shoulder. “Does it matter?”

            I shrugged. His brow furrowed in an instant of frustration before he gestured toward a nearby booth. I stepped around him, suddenly aware of the absolute bulk of the man. I’d noticed it when I’d jumped on him, but there was something different about this kind of recognition. I slid into the booth on one side of the table while he maneuvered his bulk into place on the other side. He stretched his arm out on the back of the bench and watched me from across the table. 

“What?” I asked after a few minutes of silence. It was unnerving how he just kept looking at me. Like he was trying to figure me out. “What are you staring at?”

            A faint smile ghosted over Wardlow’s face. “Do you always have an attitude? Or am I just lucky?”

            “I don’t have an attitude,” I spat. As soon as the words were out of my mouth, I realized that it sounded exactly like I had an attitude. “And there’s nothing about you that’s lucky, Wardlow.”

            This time he chuckled. Before he could say anything, the waitress came by with menus and took our drink order. When she’d walked away, he leaned back in the corner of the booth, propping one leg up on the bench. “Michael.”

            “Huh?” 

            He thanked the waitress as she reappeared and sat a cup of black coffee in front of him. I put a straw in my soda. “My name is Michael.”

            For some reason, my brain couldn’t process what he said. Everything stalled as his voice faded into the background. What did it matter? And why was I so surprised by the fact that he told me his name?

            “Mattie?” Wardlow waved his hand in front of my face, snapping his fingers to get my attention. “Hey! Little Jackson!”

            “Huh?” The word slipped out in a daze. He rolled his eyes and, just like that, I felt a faint spark of frustration grow inside me. “What?”

            “Are you going to eat anything?” he asked. The expression on his face made it clear that he was desperately trying not to laugh at me. “Or are you just going to sit there all night?”

            “Waffle,” I blurted out. The truth was that I wasn’t hungry in the slightest. I wanted to crash. I wanted to just curl up somewhere and cry until I couldn’t think anymore. The sight of Nicole knocked out cold and the look of betrayal on Dad’s face were burned into my mind. I felt sick.

            My head felt like it was going to explode. Reality crashed into me, and I suddenly realized that I had nowhere to go. I always roomed with Nicole when we were on the road. It didn’t matter if we were in a suite with our parents or if we had a space all to ourselves. My gear bag was back at the arena. My luggage was in the hotel. 

            “I’m so screwed,” I said out of nowhere as my head slumped down against the table. 

            Wardlow chuckled across the table. I didn’t bother lifting my head. I knew he was making fun of me. “You’re just now figuring that out, huh?”

            I didn’t even look up. There was a weight in my chest that made it hard to breathe. It was like my ribs were caving in. The air stuck in my throat, choking me until I gagged. My eyes burned with tears that wouldn’t fall. 

            “Hey.” Wardlow’s voice came out gently. “Look at me.”

            “No.” I choked again, feeling like my throat was closing up.

            There was a creak of wood and then a bulk pushing against my left side. “Scoot over, Little Jackson,” he said firmly. His voice was still gentle, almost soft. I let his bulk fill the space, squishing me against the wall of the booth. He bumped his shoulder into mine. “C’mon, look at me.”

            I didn’t want to. I just wanted to wallow, to marinate in the feeling that I’d completely screwed up my entire life. “I wish I’d never let Bub talk me into this.”

            “Maybe,” Wardlow said, ignoring the fact that I was still forehead on the table. “Maybe you should have just told your parents about the whole thing. It’s not like they don’t know how to act after thirty years in the game. But it’s done, and you can’t change it.” 

            The table vibrated beneath my forehead as the plates settled against the formica. I could sense the waitress on my right on the other side of the divider. I didn’t have to look up to see that she was making eyes at Wardlow. The way his voice dropped made the attention perfectly clear. 

            “Sit up and eat your waffle.” 

            I turned my head and looked over at him. He had five plates in front of him, each one piled high with food. He reached over my head for the hot sauce. “How are you going to eat all of that?”

            The corner of his mouth tipped upward. “Watch and find out.”

            I scowled and sat up, squished against the divider by his massive bulk. “What exactly is your problem? Why do you have such an attitude with me?”

            “See,” Wardlow said around a mouthful of food, “that’s your problem, Little Jackson. Thinking everything is about you.” He waved his fork in my direction before shoveling up another forkful of eggs and bacon. “It must be the Jackson family motto.”

            Rolling my eyes, I opened my mouth to speak. But the way his brow lifted in challenge kept my mouth shut. Spite filled me as I picked up my fork and started eating. And entirely second guessing my sanity when I agreed to this whole plan with Bub. 

            And definitely when I made the choice to screw over Maxwell Jacob Friedman. 

__________

Tag List

@not-that-kinda-gurl08

@lilred91

@imagineall-the-fandoms

@maelleoute

@librathepheonix13

@unoficialy-married-to-ace-austin

@spaghetti-hoop

@rollynchwhore

@ryantaylorgirl

@mrsmatt

[secretmessages1983]

the more i hear about the locked tomb the more im convinced you people have never read a good book in your entire lives

[dangandj-d4ronpa]

More DanganDJ Koikatsu (6/19)

[etchedstars]

kinda WOULD LOVE to know which ships you referred to in the tags 👀👀🥺🥺

hellooooo anon unfortunately i have wonderful cherished mutuals who enjoy all three of those ships but ill give you some hints !

they're all queer (mlm specifically)

take place in the Real World

"black cat x golden retriever" dynamics

internal issues that could be solved with One Conversation

have all been called the pinnacle of queer media

Fucking Boring

i complain abt two of these regularly

[charmcoindied]

wrote a big long post about fanfiction but i think it can be summed up as 1) i think sometimes it's fun to write stupid shit 2) i don't think it's ever that serious. do i think it's going to like nourish my soul and introduce me to new ideas about what it means to be human? not really but i'm not expecting a michelin star meal to fall out of my box of kraft mac and cheese either

[britneyshakespeare]

stanned kpop too late to witness the rise of the golden age

stanned kpop too early to have any chance of seeing my faves do an american tour

stanned kpop just in time to watch exo next door (2015)

[specialagentartemis]

fic trope ask: mirror universe

For this fanfic trope ask game

[A] I find these a ton of fun, haha. At their best, they hit the same sweet spot Clone Angst does for me - the idea of someone who is you but is not you, the same DNA but having become a very different person. I always get HYPE when a mirror universe episode comes up on Star Trek, and I like seeing it played around with in fandom too.

The real power of Mirror Universe AUs is a prime!character getting yoinked or swapped into the Mirror Universe so they can react to how different and terrible things are.

(I am also a big fan of selfcest and like. Evil Selfcest. I think that is Fun and Entertaining)

[nemrut]

Fanfiction: Pokémon: Pinnacle Platinum by WindsweptCity

Summary by the author: I've been playing Pokémon for most of my life, and I have gotten a bit bored of how easy the games were. In a world where Pokémon are real however, I'm only marginally better than a total rookie. But that just means I get to experience the magic again: the highs and lows, the victories and failures, and everything in between on my journey to reach the top.

So, obviously, it is a pokemon fanfic. Protag is a modern SI character who was reborn into the pokemon world as Luna and has started her journey in Sinnoh with her starter Glaceon. She is joined by Lucas, an assistant to Professor Rowan who is researching evolutions and later on by Ursula, a coordinator.

Ash and his gang are having their journey as well, and they met once, but they are doing their own thing. Still, this is mostly the anime world and the anime plot is happening, and Luna only occasionally brushes up against it.

That should be all the relevant information. I honestly do not have much to say about it, other than that it updates weekly on Saturdays, and I am having a great time reading this story. It is a fun exploration of the pokemon world, I quite like the dynamics between pokemon and trainers, I like the characters and Luna in particular is a very good protagonist. Even the anime elements of the setting, story and characters have been incorporated rather well, and with our main trio, we delve into the aspects of poke-battling, research into the nature of pokemon and the coordinator competitions. So there is a lot going on.

So yeah, if anyone is in the mood for a pokemon journey fic that updates regularly, try this. Well-worth the read. Story is on Ao3.

[marilysugarcoated]

adrien would def be down to play mermaids 🧜‍♀️

in fact.. all four of them would -

i need an ao3 author on this immediately, im begging plsplsplspls iTS FOR THE GREATER GOOD

the two smartest people in the show get together, you cant not expect them to uncover every single secret

This is for @halfahelix!!! HAPPY BIRTHDAY!!!!!💖✨ (I was your anarchist gang gift exchange gifter !!) It was really fun trying to figure out how to squeeze sentitwins, feligami, and ladrien into one comic together lmao I KIND OF DID IT, I THINK? enjoy :3

[rweoutofthewoods]

Hey guys, I just want to kindly set some boundaries about my inbox. I know I’m very open and cover a lot of heavy themes in my writing including mental health, but sometimes, (and A LOT recently) this leads to unconsented trauma dumping in my ask box.

I’m not a professional, I’m not in the mental health field and I’m not any sort of counselor or person certified to give you any life advice. If you want to have a one on one talk it’s totally okay to come to my DMs and ask if it’s okay to talk about some sensitive stuff, as long as you understand that I’m literally just a girl who writes about mental illness and has a tumblr, I have no credentials and any sort but if I can support you or for example, tell you things about BPD that you CAN’T find with a google search I do want to do that.

But google exists, professionals exist and I am not a pinnacle of knowledge. If you can google it, do that first.

I also don’t feel comfortable sharing really personal things people tell me publicly as asks, so please.

So kindly asking you respect some ground rules:

1. bring that to DMs, not my inbox if you must.

2. Check with me first before dumping things on me

3. Understand that I have no credentials to be the person you talk to. me writing a lot of fanfic doesn’t put me on some sort of level or pedestal for that, and I might not always be up for helping you with super personal things.

You can dump whatever questions about writing or fanfic you want in my inbox, but please be aware of unconsented trauma dumping.

I care so deeply for all of you. I’m honored you feel you can trust me with things. And I’d love if I could give you insight or support, but I’m literally just a 22 year old who writes gay wizard fanfiction so don’t think I’m exactly qualified.

Thanks guys and I hope you understand!

[marieracingteam]

Ghost Writer/ Ghost Enemy

In recent years, what is considered the most important sport in motorsport’s history has noticeably lost its popularity. Its reach to the female public is at its worst, and social networks have stopped considering relevant what filled newspapers and magazines one day.

As expected, investors are not satisfied, but not surprised either. It seems that the pinnacle of motorsport has become untouchable and they are the ones who built their empire in the clouds.

Books and movies were written about its elitism, about how unattainable it was to get one of the prestigious seats in the single-seaters. Wealth, fame, luxury... everything kept pushing them away from the public until they reached this point.

What could be made now? Could one social media post change history? Or did they need to bring back the big weapons to revert the damage already made?

A Formula 1 and Max Verstappen fanfiction.

Masterlist.

Weekend 1. Formula 1 Pre-Season Testing.

Weekend 2. Bahrain Grand Pix.

Weekend 3. Saudi Arabian Grand Pix.

Weekend 4. Australian Grand Prix.

Extra. The week between the Australian and the Japanese Grand Prix.

Weekend 5. Japanese Grand Prix.

Weekend 6. Chinese Grand Prix.

Weekend 7. Miami Grand Prix.

Weekend 8. Emilia-Romagna Grand Prix.

Weekend 9. Monaco Grand Prix.

Weekend 10. Spanish Grand Prix.

[let-me-love-you-loki]

...Ready for It?--Ch. 2

Chapter 2

           There was a split second of silence before the crowd literally erupted. I couldn’t remember ever hearing so many boos in my life. And I was the daughter of the Young Bucks—I’d heard them get booed more than anyone else in the world.

           Papa slumped to the side, barely catching himself on his hand before he fell straight over. His eyes were glassy and fixed somewhere in the distance. Almost as if he had been knocked dazed. Or as if he were crying.

           The sight of it—whatever it was—broke my heart. There was a sudden, overwhelming rush of guilt at having hidden this whole thing from them. I knew now that Dad and Papa would have understood the whole thing. They knew how to tell amazing stories. And they would have helped me tell this one. But I’d decided to keep them out of the loop. Mom and Nikki, too.

           I squeezed my eyes shut and tried not to think about having to face Mom backstage. She was going to murder me, least of all because I’d legitimately knocked my sister out with a superkick.

           “Mattie,” came Dad’s voice from behind me. He’d pulled himself up on the apron and practically clawed his way under the bottom rope into the ring. “What happened?”

           His blue eyes bounced between me, Papa, and Nikki. He looked as if he couldn’t figure out where to focus and the confusion on his face just broke my heart even more. How was I ever going to make this up to them? To explain it?

           Dad crawled over to Nikki and shook her. “Nikki? Nikki?” He shook her again, tapping her hard on the cheek. “Nicole!”

           I stayed rooted to the spot as I felt some of the resolve at this whole thing slip away. For a moment, I wanted to take it all back. When he couldn’t wake Nikki up, Dad rolled to his feet and stomped across the ring toward me. He pointed back at my sister.

           “What happened, Mattie? Did Cash do that?”

           In my mind’s eye, I saw Bub sitting at the production table watching the screen. Waiting for me to make a move. To do something. Anything. We’d spent so long planning this. I couldn’t let it fall apart so soon.

           Before I could speak, music blared through the arena. Dun. Dunana-dunana-dunana-dunana-na. Burberry patterns lit up the big screens. Dad and I looked toward the tunnels. Behind us, Cash laughed. Papa came to and started crawling toward Nikki.

           “Cut my music,” Maxwell said from the top of the ramp. “Cut my music. Cut my music.”

           He stopped and stood staring down at the ring. There was a smirk on his face that made me feel mildly ill. Of course, he hadn’t come alone. Wardlow hovered behind him over his right shoulder. Shawn Spears was on his left, a steel chair emblazoned with his logo in his hand.

           “Bucks, Bucks, Bucks,” Maxwell sighed dramatically, shaking his head. “Looks like you’re having a bit of trouble. And you needed your little girls to come save you.”

           He took a few steps forward. The others followed right behind him. “Pathetic. You’re too old and too stupid to realize that it’s time to move on. You’re not the top of the food chain in AEW anymore, boys.” He wiggled his thumb between himself, Wardlow, and Spears. “We are. Isn’t that right… Mattie?”

           The smirk curved into an evil grin as he met my eyes. I sucked in a shallow breath and turned to look at my Dad. He looked at me with confusion in his blue eyes—the eyes that Mom always said were so much like mine. He glanced at Papa, who was trying to shake Nikki awake. My gut churned. I hated that I’d actually hurt my sister.

           “Tea?” Dad whispered in disbelief.

           I forced myself to scowl. “I’m not that little girl anymore.” Not giving myself time to think, I took a firm step forward and slammed my knee into the side of Dad’s head. He looked stunned before slumping back onto his heels.

           The crowd booed even louder. Some shouted horrible things at me, but I didn’t care. All I could think about was how worried I was for Nikki and how I was going to explain this to my parents when it was all over. Maybe I could get Bub to do it for me. Most of this had been his idea to begin with.

           Maxwell started laughing as I rolled beneath the bottom rope and hopped to the ground. I backed up the ramp, doing my best to sneer at where my family sat in various stages of disbelief. Cash and Dax had pulled themselves to their feet and walked just a few feet behind me.

           “Good job, Jackson,” Dax said just loud enough for those in the front row to hear. “I didn’t think you had it in you.”

           “Shut up,” I tossed back, trying to push as much venom into my words as possible. “I don’t give a damn what you think.”

           He laughed. I turned my back on the ring and looked up at Maxwell, Wardlow, and Spears. When I was halfway up the ramp, I stopped and propped my hands on my hips. I let myself bask in the boos of the crowd—in the reality that I’d tossed a heel turn at them out of nowhere and they’d gone from loving me as the princess of AEW to hating me in half a second. The smile and heat on my face just then was genuine.

           Now there was just one thing left.

           “Come on, Mattie,” Maxwell said, taking a few sauntering steps toward me. “Come to Daddy.”

           He held out his arms, a look on his face that was so smug that I had to fight the urge to walk right up and smack him. Instead, I tried to look coy and sashayed the last few feet between us.

           And went right past him. Wardlow loomed over me with his broad shoulders and serious expression. He was in a grey suit and plum colored shirt that had clearly been tailored perfectly for him. His brow rose as I settled my hand on the center of his chest.

           My God, I thought with a snapping realization, he’s solid. And warm.

           Wardlow looked confused. The expression only deepened as I slid my arm around the back of his neck and practically jumped into his arms. He wrapped me in them as I hooked my legs over his hips. Those dark eyes went wide just before I crashed my lips against his.

***

           “That was brilliant!”

           “What the fuck was that?”

           “How could you?!”

           People started shouting the moment we came through the curtain in the back. I glanced at the monitor nearby and watched as my fathers helped roll my little sister to sit up. Papa was still oozing blood. Dad looked like he was crying.

           Bub stood up from the production table with a wide smile. This whole thing had been his idea. It had taken him weeks to convince me to go along with it. And even longer once he told me who he expected me to betray my family for.

           Mom was still sitting there staring at me with her eyes wide. I could see the tears that threatened to spill out. I hadn’t just betrayed my sister and our tag team. I hadn’t just turned my back on my fathers. What just happened was more than a pair of superkicks and a V-trigger. It was ignoring everything that had made me who I was.

           A hand wrapped around my upper arm and whipped me around. Maxwell stood with an angry snarl on his face. “What the fuck just happened, Jackson? That wasn’t what we agreed on! You just made me look like a fool.”

           Shawn chuckled behind his hand. Dax and Cash looked away, clearly trying to hide their amusement at what just occurred. Only Wardlow had a truly neutral expression. I watched him from the corner of my eyes. He had his hands clasped in front of him and his deeply dark eyes were fixed on me.

           Good God, it made me feel small.

           I shrugged. If I was going to be part of the Pinnacle, I supposed it was time to start acting like one of them. “What’s the first thing you told me, Maxie? Play the best angle. And I did.”

           His jaw dropped as I stepped around him and hooked my arm through Wardlow’s. He arched one brow but didn’t speak. I looked back at Maxwell and grinned. But before I could say another word, I saw my mother stand up. Loud thumping came from the steps leading down from the face tunnel. Dad came thundering around the corner. Papa wasn’t far behind, but he moved sluggishly from blood loss and having to carry my sister.

           I saw them coming. Saw the absolute betrayal and hurt and anger in their eyes. Dad was a few feet away. Adrenaline spiked through me. I couldn’t bring myself to explain the whole thing to them just then.

           Without thinking, I grabbed Wardlow by the hand and took off running as fast as I could down the hallway. It felt like dragging a ton of bricks behind me, but it strangely never occurred to me to let go and run away on my own.

           “Mattie?” Wardlow’s voice came out low and quiet, tinged heavily with confusion.

           “I’ll explain later!” I shouted back. We skidded around the corner. The back door of the arena was in sight. Momentary freedom was within reach. I could avoid having to face my family for just a little bit longer. I had time to figure out how to tell them why I’d kept it all a secret. Why Bub, Maxwell, and I had cooked this whole thing up behind their backs.

           Someone shouted my name from behind. My heart dropped down in my chest. I could feel it settled against my stomach. It made me want to vomit.

           “Mattea Kourtney Jackson!” My mother’s voice echoed through the hallways. It was just a matter of time before she caught up with us.

           Wardlow slowed as if he were planning on turning around. I yanked hard on his hand. “Don’t you dare!” I hissed over my shoulder. “I’m not ready to explain all that to them right now!”

           “Hey!” Another voice came out of nowhere just ahead. Kat Prince appeared out of a doorway, a mischievous grin on her face. “That was brilliant. Here. Take these. It’s the black one with the car seat in the back.”

           Kat had tossed me a set of keys. She winked.

           The fear in my chest relaxed just a little. “Thanks, Aunt Kat!”

           Without another thought, I dragged Wardlow through the door into the darkness. I pressed the keys into his large hand and gave him a desperate look. “Please, just get me out of here for half an hour. So I can figure out how to tell them why I just did that.” Wardlow watched me for a fraction of a second—as if he would say no—before gesturing me to go ahead of him.

_______

Tag List

@mox-made-me-do-it

@not-that-kinda-gurl08

@lilred91

@imagineall-the-fandoms

@maelleoute

@librathepheonix13

@unoficialy-married-to-ace-austin

@spaghetti-hoop

@ryantaylorgirl

@mrsmatt​

@feralgremlin-nickjackson​

[truebluewhocanoe]

also this is objectively better because now Donna Noble has to explain why she has a rotation of funny fellas, all of whom are doctors, bonkers, and possibly related to her(?), living out of her house

Do you think like a month into their therapy retreat the Doctor wakes up as a different past incarnation, still fully clothed, and realizes that oh. It wasn't just one face that came back. They have to heal about a dozen versions of their inner child before they can go back to business as usual

[obviouslacking]

this is wholly embarrassing but i watched h-e double hockey sticks (1999) for the first time last night and, in the midst of my jeric brainrot, it made my mind go ❣️

so i wrote a teensy, terrible ficlet. i gave it a saccharine little title. griffelkin/dave, because of course it is. what are niche fandoms for if not to practice writing bad fanfiction? anyway. this goes out to the folks on jeric twt

edit: she’s on ao3 now! someone please join me over there so hedhs can become an actual categorised fandom

the sign on your heart (it's still reserved for me)

aka when hell freezes over

*******************

It was the greatest night of Dave Heinrich’s life. 

He’d just won the Stanley Cup; the girl of his dreams was on his arm and he was enjoying his hard-won victory. Only… something was wrong. Through the lights, and the confetti, and the cheers, he watched as Griffelkin melted away into the crowd. Like he was never there. Like he’d never be seen again — by Dave, anyway. The triumphant grin slipped off his lips. It was cold, suddenly, out there on the ice, in a way the exertion had masked before. Everything he’d just accomplished began to feel… hollow. The only reason he’d managed to achieve anything was because of Griffelkin, chaotic and ridiculous though he was. Because, for some godforsaken reason… he’d believed in Dave.

He’d made him a better person.

What he’d had with Anne had been good. It felt like they had grown up in the rink together. But they’d been chasing after a dead-and-buried version of the past for too long now, blindly gripping to nostalgia instead of moving forward with their lives. It was now clear to him: it was time to set them both free. 

He turned to her with regret, “I’m so sorry, I have to go.” 

She didn’t understand, “Dave, wait—”

He couldn’t. He had to get out of there or else he’d lose his chance entirely. He knew how it looked: Dave Heinrich, the golden boy, leaving the Stanley Cup celebrations — the moment he’d worked towards all his life, the pinnacle of his rising star. He didn’t care. He was proud of his team, proud of himself, but… none of it would feel right until he saw Griffelkin again. Until they got to be proud of what they’d done together. The two of them, their own team.

He had to get him back.

It took hours. He drew pentagrams in chalk on his nicely laminated flooring. He lit candles. He tried ominous chanting, tried reciting an exorcism he thought he saw in a movie once, tried everything he could think of to summon Griffelkin back to him — short of screaming at the sky in despair.

Nothing worked. He was forced to sit himself down by the absolute mess he’d made with a sigh, body still aching from the torture it had endured that day. He couldn’t stop thinking about the way Griffelkin had held onto him as he lifted him up onto the sickbay bed. Or the sight of him in his Angels uniform; wearing Dave’s number, Dave’s name. He’d been chasing after the Cup for so long, treading water with his girlfriend for so long… he’d forgotten what that felt like. To have a fire inside you, one that burned for a person. 

If Griffelkin technically counted as a person, anyways. Dave was still a little.. fuzzy on the details. If he thought about it too much, he was sure he’d lose his mind (even more so than he likely already had. Maybe he’d just taken a really hard check out on the ice one day, and this was all some kind of fever dream—)

“What the hell are you doing?”

Jesus Christ!!! Dave had sprung up and away from the sudden intruder in terror before he could even realise it was the intended object of his summonings. Here, at last. Hours after Dave had wanted him. The creature lived to spite him.

Even so, just seeing his face again… Dave needed to say his piece. “I had to talk to you. It wasn’t right, how you just… left, after everything. Why did you just leave?”

Griffelkin was uncharacteristically muted, like all the flair had been drained out of him. “You got everything you wanted. You didn’t need me anymore.”

*******************

Griffelkin was lost. 

He’d come to Earth to be wicked. To do bad deeds. To steal the ever-ripe soul of one Dave Heinrich. He’d never anticipated… everything that had happened after that. Becoming invested in the lives of actual, honest-to-God people, turning against the will of Beelzebub and everything he’d trained for to show compassion… it was entirely out of left field. Or left.. rink… (curse his sudden investment in that stupid game. It was just unnatural).

He’d never anticipated the way something about Dave was just… different. When Griffelkin was with him… he’d never felt like that before. It itched throughout his whole body; like that awful diner food, or the smell of the trees as they polluted his insides. Something horrible like… sunshine, or flowers, or the way Dave would smile breathlessly after he won a game—

Oh, hell.

Griffelkin had done it. He’d gone and fallen in — he took a moment to tamp down the nausea — love with him. The human. His former mark. What on Earth was he going to do? 

Quite literally. He definitely didn’t think Hell would take him back any time soon, and the folks upstairs… well he didn’t know WHAT was going on with them. Gabby was their earthly agent?? She made him look positively angelic by comparison — and that was saying something.

So here he was: stuck topside, having horrendously squishy feelings for someone who would never like him back. Why would he? He’d got the Stanley Cup, got the girl… he didn’t need Griffelkin anymore. Dave’s soul may have been bound to him once, but they’d essentially ripped up everything that had tied them together. Their deal was done. 

If only he’d known sooner… he’d never have got those two back together!! If he'd ensured they'd remained separated, he could have done his buddy Lewis a solid — he wouldn't have had to deal with Dave's impressive ego anymore!! Meanwhile, Griff could have swooped in at just the right moment, offering his soulmate both the shining Cup and his blackened heart on a brimstone platter……

But it was too late. They were all finally happy, at peace; everyone’s souls intact. Hurray! Griffelkin had no choice but to just fade into the background. Leave Dave be. He’d already interfered with his life enough. 

Or so he’d thought.

He wasn’t entirely sure why he was currently standing in Dave’s living room. He’d just felt drawn to the place, something that had never happened before. At least, not without some kind of demonic intervention. Somehow, he didn’t think that was at work here, despite the look of Dave’s once-glossy pad. The space seemed to be covered in… satanic paraphernalia of some kind. 

Aw, he was almost touched. Mildly offended by the amateur job (WHO taught him how to draw a pentagram? And scented candles, really?? Was that glitter over there—) but… touched, nonetheless.

Dave was sitting on the floor, hunched over, still in his jersey from the game. He looked miserable. 

Griffelkin felt that increasingly familiar tremble in his chest. He took it out back and shot it dead. “What the hell are you doing?”

Dave jumped out of his skin at the words. He was so cute when he was being existentially horrified by the forces of Griffelkin’s dark magic. Damn him. He’d failed already (typical, typical, Griff, can’t do anything right). He had to stop thinking of Dave like that, not when he wanted nothing—

“I had to talk to you….. it wasn’t right, how you just…. left, after everything. Why did you just leave?”

He… wanted Griff? 

That couldn’t be right. No matter how much it pained him, all he could think to do was be honest: “You got everything you wanted. You didn’t need me anymore.”

Dave seemed distraught, hearing this. Griffelkin had never seen him like that before. He didn’t know what to make of it. He looked… agitated, but not like he was when his hockey career was on the line; sad, but not in the same way as he’d mooned over… whatever her name was. 

He admitted, “I thought that was what I wanted. But then… you weren’t there.” 

No one had ever… cared about Griffelkin before. Was this how the Grinch had felt when his heart grew three sizes bigger? Griff might as well just sprout wings and take up harp-playing, at the notion. He’d never felt so blessed, 

“Aw, Dave, buddy, you missed me? It was my sick moves out on the ice wasn’t it? You just had to come crawling back—”

Dave kissed him. 

*******************

Dave couldn’t listen to that yapping for one more second.

So, he grabbed Griffelkin by the stupid clothes he was still wearing and kissed his stupid evil mouth. It took only a second before he melted into it like he’d been feeling the exact same feverish longing as Dave, silenced by—

Oh, he’d finally shut him up. He should have thought of doing that sooner. 

It felt like a long time coming. It felt like no time at all.

Slowly, he released Griffelkin from his desperate grasp. It took the demon several seconds to blink his eyes open, staring back at him in awe. Well, Dave would feel just terrible if he’d broken him somehow. (Though maybe it would serve him right, just a little bit.) 

Satisfied, he leant back. 

“You gonna stay now? You don’t have anywhere else to be, right? Hell, or the Underworld, or wherever it is you’re from?” He hoped he never found out all the gory details. He suspected he was going to.

Griffelkin was still stunned. His hands twitched where they stayed clinging to the back of Dave’s jersey.  “No, I… I think I’m right where I need to be.”

“Good. ‘Cause I don’t know if you know this, but I just won the Stanley Cup.” He smiled at the thought… what an insane life he was leading. Dave Heinrich: youngest player to ever earn that mythic trophy; currently falling headfirst, circle-after-circle, in love with Hell’s finest.

Griffelkin smiled back at him, a little goofy, joy glimmering in his eyes, “Oh, you did?”

“Uh huh. And I could use some help figuring out where I’m gonna go from here.”

“Right, well…” Griffelkin swallowed. “I might just know a certain devil who’s going through kind of a similar situation right now. He might just take you up on that offer.”

It felt like the proper conclusion to their little adventure: both balancing on the precipice of a new journey. One Dave wanted them to tackle together — no matter how many ridiculous escapades came about as a result. They were just better as a pair. He knew they’d make it work somehow. If there was one thing he’d learned from all this (besides the whole being a selfless team player thing) it was that he could use a little more chaos in his life.

He pretended to mull Griff’s response over. “No contracts required?”

“Actually now that you mention it, I think I might have forgotten a sub-clause back there—” 

Dave kissed him again. Man, that really did work miracles. It was about time he evened the scales a bit, in terms of which one of them was holding power over the other. He had to be careful or it just might go to his head.

They were still standing in the midst of Dave’s embarrassingly terrible pentagram. Luckily, the candles had all been long-extinguished by the time their lips had met, or they would have been facing a serious fire-safety hazard right about then. Dave had come too far to have his life cut short in that blissful moment.

His arms wrapped around the neck of his tormentor, who bound their bodies together with his own embrace in turn. 

At least they wouldn’t be able to sue him for breach of contract: Dave Heinrich’s soul belonged to the demon Griffelkin after all. 

Along with his heart, and mind, and body, and whatever else he decided he wanted along the way. Dave wasn’t fussed in the slightest.

Hell began to thaw.

[thecatmomm]

I'm just here to declare that I have found the pinnacle of fanfiction and honestly of literature.

What bloomed in the darkgarden

Is a masterpiece, never in my 11 years of reading fanfiction have I found myself wanting to bind a fanfic into a hardcover leather book but here we are!!

My dear Elriels make yourselves a favor and read it if you haven't already 💕

[79-fic-recs]

This is the 79, qijiu, fic rec blog, the ultimate Lostchip’s fanfiction recommendation list for all of your Yue Qingyuan and Shen Qingqiu HEART SOUL AND DREAMS FIC RECS.

This is a list with no spoilers (for the fics) only VIBES!!!!!

Number one is Masochism by Prim_the_Amazing

Okay you are asking me why Masochism is the pinnacle of 79 fics? It’s because the author gets!!!!!! The!!! Characters!!!!!

Like do you ever pick up a fic and then go, no thank you this isn’t for me because of the way the characters are written? Well this is the exact opposite. The author deeply understands the motivations that underpin yq and you get that in his POV and his dedication to sj. Like this is the best 79 fic and I’ve been in this fandom for four years so uh yeah. it has everything you want from a 79 fic.

Feels THE REVEAL (readers of svsss understand what im talking about) reconciliation TALKING PAST ONE ANOTHER MISUNDERSTANDINGS sj being sj and yq being yq yq shizun bashing!