#thinking I'm going to go with the prologue I've already written...but this still helped me try out some things

[pahrak-the-sinnoh-slizer]

Rivers Branching (draft of opening)

As he tumbled downhill, crashing against or through at least a dozen trees along the way, Ash could only hope that the plethora of SNAPS he heard came from branches rather than his bones.  He finally skidded to a stop in a muddy ditch and tested his body: it hurt like hell, but he could still move normally.  With a heave, he pushed himself high enough to grab the edge of the ditch, but froze when he realized he could no longer feel the rain.  Looming over him was a tall, lanky creature with face and shell like a turtle, its gleaming yellow eyes locked on him.  The top of its skull was indented into a circular bowl of sorts, currently overflowing with rainwater.  Stooping, it slowly extended its webbed claw.

“Terribly sorry, friend,” it said in a hoarse yet piercing voice.  “Seems I misjudged the incline on that ledge.  Looked like a nasty fall—are you still in one piece?”

Ash grunted.  “Don’t mock me!”

The creature took a step back.  “Oh no, not at all.  I apologize if I came across as such.  Let me know when you’re ready to resume.”

Pulling himself up, Ash took a quick glance at his surroundings.  There wasn’t much to see: hills towered over either side of the valley, and all he could see beyond that was a pall of gray rainclouds.  He glared at his enemy and lifted one arm; in a matter of seconds, a reddish-yellow flower bloomed from his wrist.  “Let’s go!”

A vine rapidly grew from the flower, shooting across the gap ready to skewer its target.  The creature dashed aside and stayed low, changing direction after a few steps, and charged straight at Ash with its claws spread wide.  Ash hopped forward—the end of the vine buried itself in the hillside and retracted, reeling him out of harm’s way.  He rolled into a crouch just as his anchor freed itself, seeing that his foe was still bearing down on him.  A multitude of smaller vines grew from his flower, weaving a thorned glove around his fist, and he led with his shoulder before throwing a deadly straight…that missed spectacularly.  The air fled his lungs as the creature thrust an elbow into his gut.

“One thing I will say is that you’re quite determined.”  The creature slowly circled around him as he writhed.  “A strength to be certain, though one must take care to prevent it from congealing into pure stubbornness.”

Ash stabbed at it with a lance made of vines.  His foe kicked his arm back and grabbed his face—the water dripping from its skin was nearly enough to drown him.  The next thing Ash knew, he was in a heap on the far side of the valley.

“Tsk, tsk, tsk.  Truth be told, friend, I find myself starting to wonder if you truly knew what you were getting into.  I mean really: a land-dweller picking a fight with a kappa in the middle of a rainstorm?  If your aim was to win, then one would think you’d have at least waited for the weather to clear up!”

“Oh, shove it!”  Ash climbed to his feet, wiping blood and dirt from his face.  “I’m not giving you the chance to make it back to the Earl!  One way or another, I’m going to wring you dry right here!”

He formed a bow next, sending forth a volley of arrows.  The kappa swiftly wove around the projectiles.  Just as it prepared to pounce, the next arrow exploded in mid-flight, scattering arboreal shrapnel across the creature’s path.  It managed to stop its forward momentum, but Ash didn’t let up: he kept firing arrows until he saw the kappa stumble and fall directly onto one of the thorny caltrops.  The bit of plant matter lit up, followed by a terrible shriek from its victim.  The kappa rolled onto its back and clawed at it frantically, its skin slowly but surely constricting and shriveling as the moisture was rapidly siphoned out of it.

“Got you!”

Ash ran forward, reshaping his bow into another glove.  Once he was close enough, he leapt at the kappa, summoned all his might, and slammed his fist down.  He struck only dirt.  The kappa flung itself just out of reach, plucked out the caltrop accosting it, and then smashed the human fighter’s skull into the ground.

“Haah…that was…clever…”  It rose slowly, the rain quickly restoring its body to health.  “My apologies: I underestimated you.  Allow me to rectify that mistake.”

Ash’s head throbbed.  He flopped a few inches away, short vines from his flower swiping blindly, but it did him no good as the kappa strode over, picked him up, and bit into his shoulder.  Pain shoved aside all other thoughts as the creature’s powerful beak cleaved flesh from bone, keeping firm its grip even as the kappa pulled back and spat.

“Mrrmm…that’s right, I forgot.  Those primroses of yours leave some truly dreadful seeds throughout the host’s body.  Pity: a waste of perfectly good food.  In that case…”

It bared its claws.  Ash did his best to push through the pain, to dig up some last reservoir of strength, but only a single thought came to his mind: Marisol…

The kappa turned sharply; another arrow was flying towards it, and it slashed through the bolt.  A cloud of spores burst out of the splintered arrow.  Gasping and choking, the kappa dropped Ash and stumbled backward.  Ash hit the ground hard but got right back up.  He began to lift his arm once again, but someone stepped in front of him: a young woman about his age wearing an armored wetsuit identical to his own but with patches of red rather than gray.  Sitting in her hair, glowing brilliantly, was a flower like the one on his wrist.  “Don’t be stupid—get back!”

“M…Marisol?”  He winced.  Vines from his flower were wrapping tightly around his shoulder to staunch the bleeding.  “You’re here already?  How did you stop the other one so fast?”

Marisol didn’t answer.  She kept her gaze fixed on the kappa, who cleared its throat one last time before wiping its beak.  “Well now…that was a bit underhanded, don’t you think?  In any case, I should introduce myself.”  It spread its arms and bowed.  “I am Kamikawa Getsumaru, Baron of the Western Antarctic Islands, here by request of the Earl of the Southern Waters.  And you are?”

Marisol stepped back.  “Not alone.”

A bolt of lightning shot down from the sky just then, striking Kamikawa dead-on.  It shrieked once again as the electricity surged through its entire body, leaving it charred and smoking when it had passed.  Ash’s eyebrows went up.

“I’ll give you one chance,” Marisol said.  The flower in her hair fanned out its petals, slowly extending four long vines covered in thorns.  “Leave.  Now.”

Ash reached for her shoulder.  “Mari, wait, we can’t just let it go!  We—ow!”  A vine lightly smacked his fingers away, making him recoil.

Almost groggily, Kamikawa looked around the valley, but ultimately it took another bow.  “I think…I shall accept your gracious offer.  Well-played, humans.  I look forward to our next meeting.”  And with that, it was gone.

Ash grunted.  “…Thanks.  I owe you one.”

Marisol whirled and grabbed him by the collar.  Her teeth were clenched, and orange light burned in her eyes.  “I’m real fucking tired of you owing me!  How have you still not learned to avoid getting nearly killed in the first place?!”

“I didn’t…”  A range of emotions flipped through Ash’s mind, but beneath it all he could feel a layer of shame providing a foundation.  “It’s…not…”  He took Marisol by the wrist—she was trembling.  “…I’m sorry, alright?”

“No, it’s not.”  She gave a long sigh as she let go of him.  “But…now’s not the time.”

Ash then realized they were not alone.  Standing nearby was someone new: another human, middle-aged if Ash had to guess from his white bear and frayed gray hair.  He wore badly scratched glasses that hid his eyes, and the trench coat he wore looked to be made more of dirt than of cloth.  Ash’s eyes settled on the massive tome tucked under his arm.

“Is that a spellbook?  I guess you’re responsible for that bolt, then.  Thanks for your help, mister, uh…?”

The ragged stranger slowly adjusted his glasses.  Marisol fidgeted too, which made Ash feel very uneasy very quickly.

“It’s been a long time, Ashton,” the stranger said.  “…I do apologize for that.  My name is Garrick Blackwood.  I am your biological father.”

Ash blinked.  He turned to Marisol, who nodded.  He looked at his primrose, which stood eerily still.  Looking back up at Garrick, he began to feel faint, and blurted out the only thing he could: “…What?”

~~~~~~~~~~

~~~~~~~~~~

Ash lay on his back in the tent serving as a makeshift infirmary.  His shoulder was properly bandaged but still bleeding, so he had been instructed not to do anything too strenuous.  That order was impossible to fulfill, however, since Garrick perched like a gargoyle on a chair next to his mat.

“Are you in pain?” Garrick asked.

Utter anguish, asshole, Ash thought.  Out loud, he instead answered, “I’ll be fine.  Something like this should only take a day or two to heal.”

Garrick glanced at the flower on Ash’s wrist.  “Ah, yes.  I’d been told that enhanced healing was one of the advantages granted by the scorch-wither primroses Laverne has been employing.  Remarkable specimen: there have long been theories about sapient plant species, but the idea of one being psychic seemed ludicrous.”

Ash shifted, watching the flower sway gently.  “…Zoe.”

“Pardon?”

“Her name is Zoe.”

“Ah.  I see.”

Rain drummed against the sides of the tent.

“Ashton, I—”

“Why don’t we just cut to the chase?  Where the fuck have you been?  You abandon Oren and me before I’m even a week old, and now, twenty years later, you suddenly decide it’s a good time to drop by for a visit?”

Garrick took a long pause.  “I was searching for something.  I knew it would be too dangerous to bring the two of you with me, so I left you in Laverne’s care.”

“Gee, thanks.”

“If there were any other option—”

“Raising your sons wasn’t an option?  What was so damn important you had to drop everything, huh?”

Garrick opened the book he carried.  “A way to defeat the kappa regime once and for all.”

Ash lifted his head.  “…What?”

“I had a lead,” Garrick said, flipping through pages.  “In my studies of magic, I had gathered enough evidence to suggest that an exceptionally powerful grimoire was involved in High King Kuzenbo’s plan to seize control of the planet.  It stands to reason that, if this grimoire can so completely change the state of the world, it can also be used to undo that change.  But I needed more information: exactly what I was looking for, an idea of where to find it…”  He paused before flipping the next page.  “It took far, far longer than I was expecting.”

After turning the page one last time, he held the book out for Ash to see.  Spread across the open pages were a few photographs of a book changing hands and copious hand-written notes he couldn’t entirely make out.  At the bottom, in large, clear letters, was printed “WUKONG CODEX".

“It exists, without a doubt.  And there are several accounts claiming that, among the eclectic list of spells it details, it contains information about chaos magic—highly effective in dismantling a world-spanning order.”  He snapped the book shut, giving the closest thing to a smile Ash had yet seen.  “With this, we can take them down.  I’ve tracked it and believe it to be somewhere in the vicinity of the Eurasian Delta, so I felt the time was right to share my findings with Laverne and secure her assistance in conducting an extraction.”

Ash stared at the book, dead-silent.  Garrick stiffened.  Before either could say anything more, the tent rustled and Marisol stepped inside; a large, flat leaf had grown from her primrose to shield her from the rain, and it flicked the water outside before retracting back into the flower.  Marisol stayed near the door squinting at Garrick.  After a moment, he rose.

“…I suppose I should let you rest.  We can talk more on the way back to headquarters.”  He raised one hand, hesitated, and then pat Ash on his good shoulder.  “It is…good to see you, Ashton.  Sleep well.”

Ash stayed quiet as Garrick left.  Marisol came to his side and crossed her arms.  “…How do you feel?”

He tried to put it into words.  In the end, all he could do was shrug one shoulder with a sweeping gesture.  Marisol smiled.

“I guess that’s to be expected.”  She reached out towards his primrose, lightly brushing it with her fingers.  “Zoe seems flustered too.  We really need to get her some sunlight ASAP…”

“Did we bring a UV lamp?”

“Nope.  Didn’t think we’d need it since we weren’t supposed to do any fighting.”

“Ah…right.”

She crossed her arms again; he could hear her foot tapping.

“…Right…”

Marisol looked up at the ceiling.  “I don’t want to press the issue right now, but…can I just ask what you were thinking?”

“Oh?  Well, first of all, thank you for assuming that I was thinking.”

She rolled her eyes.

“Haha…I, um…I thought I had an opportunity, really.  I didn’t see that kappa had backup, so I saw a chance to take it out and prevent whatever intel it had gathered from making it back to the Earl.”  He scratched his bandages.  “Seemed like a good idea at the time.”

Marisol’s foot stopped.  “Hm.  And, did you think at all about who else your actions might impact?”

“Yeah, I consulted Zoe, made sure she was okay with it before—”

“That’s not what I mean, Ash.”  She leaned over him, their gazes locking.  “Did you think at all about how the rest of us would feel if you died?”

His heartbeat quickened—he winced as the increased bloodflow seeped out of his wound.  “I…it wasn’t my plan to die, but…if I did, then at least I was helping to keep you safe.”

“So no.”

“I just said—”

“No, that’s not thinking about how we’d feel.  That’s not thinking past the situation you made for yourself!  I would still have to wake up tomorrow knowing that you were gone—I would still have to carry that pain for the rest of my life.  But you never think about anything beyond the fighting!”

Ash scowled.  “Hey, that’s not—”

“No?  Okay.  What if we toppled the kappa regime tomorrow, then?  What would you do with yourself after that?”

Ash averted his eyes.

“You haven’t thought about it, have you?  At all.”

“Alright, what’ve you got, then?”

Marisol turned away, sitting on the side of his mat.  “Plenty!  I’ve already begun gathering samples of various plant life and roughly plotted out where they need to be grown to repair the Earth’s biodiversity.  I want to learn to cook—I could start now, sure, but it’s not like we have the resources for me to learn much other than different ways to grill fish.  And little things: I want to visit an old-fashioned beach, sail on calm waters, run through a field of flowers so big I can’t see the end of it…”

Ash looked up at her.  A dull ache began to form in his heart.

“…I want a house.  Two-story, somewhere rural, with a greenhouse for my botany studies.  Some sort of pet, I don’t know what.”

Ash picked at his bandages.  “…And, uh…any other humans living in Marisol’s Dream Home?”

She turned her head.  “That mostly depends on you.”

He nodded.

“Ash…I know things look bleak.  I get that fighting against the regime is the only way you feel like you have any control—I don’t want you to stop.”  She gently took his hand.  “But the only way any of us are going to get through this, if we want to keep even a shred of our souls intact, is to have something to hope for when the fighting is over.”

The ache grew stronger.  “…Okay.  I’ll give it some thought.”

She smiled.  His pain vanished for a moment.  She lifted his hand, kissed it, and said, “Rest up.  We’ll head back in the morning.”

“Okay.  Good night.”

[nerdytreeflower]

Sunshine: Prologue

Derek Morgan X Reader

Summary: Bestfriends. Or something close to that anyway. That's what they are, but after one wine-fuelled night's sleep and a whole load of tossing and turning, one side of the friendship becomes strained. Derek Morgan wants to know why. Which is when the perfect opportunity comes from the pipecleaner with eyes and she has no choice but to confront the feelings she believes are one-sided. Confrontation and serial killers seem like a good mix, right? That's what I thought.

Chapter CW: 18+ ONLY

Word Count: 1.5k

A/N: Okay, so here is the prologue of the first fanfic I have ever written so constructive criticism is extremely welcome. And yes, I have written this statement before somewhere but also please keep in mind I am easily hurt so any mean comments will quite possibly reduce me to tears.

Series Masterlist // Next Chapter

It was all Reid's idea. Even if that's not what Hotch believed, the young genius had a way of suggesting ideas in a broad term and leaving it to another member of the team to own the epiphany of the actual idea itself. Whether it be for their egos or his exhaustion from having to be the smart one all the time she hadn't quite figured it out. All she knew was that stupidly innocent smile the doctor had sent her when Hotch suggested that the two agents going undercover to catch the unsub would be Morgan and herself. And that their cover would be a married couple.

She did not doubt that this case could be done just as successfully with any other combination of agents on the team, but one quip made it clear that, in their unit chief's opinion, she and Morgan would accurately fit the victimology. No further objections were made on her end, especially as the first she made was met with a teasing remark from the object of her struggles himself.

"What, you scared to get a little action, Sweetheart?" he had teased, any other day prior she would have met his teasing head-on, even flirting back a little. But today she avoided as much eye contact as she could, looking down at the file that showed the case and where they would be staying as the resort didn't want the reputation of the establishment and they had the backing of some frequent customers that were high up on the BAU's hierarchy. Ergo, the covert observation and investigation.

"I just want to make sure we are the best qualified for this, the choice of agents we use could determine if we catch this guy." Hotch nodded and out of the corner of her eye, she could see the shift in Morgan's expression. The last thing she wanted to do was make him doubt her trust in him, as backup or as a friend.

"This is the decision I've made and I believe it to be the most representative of this unsub's victimology," Hotch explained as if understanding her concern. Spencer was still smiling, looking proud of himself. She couldn't help but think that none of this would have happened if they hadn't invited him on one of their girl's nights out.

"We need more shots! I'm going to get more shots!" Penelope left despite the refusal of the others at the bar table, she put her head in her arms with laughter bubbling up her throat. 

"Hotch is going to kill us if we come in hungover tomorrow," she whined and the others groaned and laughed, all bubbled up by the cocktails prior.

"Can you blame her? I too want to see how well Boy Genius here handles tequila," Emily huffed, nudging Spencer who already looked dazy, empty glasses in front of him.

"Think of it as the initiation," JJ teased and he had the sense to look slightly wary.

"What do I get once I've passed the initiation?"

"Rather cocky, aren't we?"

"Well, I-"

"Relax, Spence, once you've passed the initiation then you get full access. All the things we talk about, all the gossip and secrets we share- you are privy to." His eyes lit up, knowledge was something he always craved, there was little left of factual knowledge he could absorb, but opinions and new events? He knew nothing of them, his curiosity was peaked.

"Oh yeah? Like what?" two tequila shots are placed in front of him and all four girls look at him expectantly. He winced and threw back the first one, face looking like he was chewing on a lemon but it passed after a couple of seconds and the next one went down. They cheered and all leaned into the table, as if ready to start whispering.

"Okay, what's the first piece of gossip we can think of," she asked but immediately regretted it when they all turned to her.

it was now a week later, on their first case since that night, and just over two weeks since she had not been able to look Derek Morgan in the eye because of her stupid subconscious' need to ruin one of the most important relationships in her life. Before, they would flirt playfully, and hang out together constantly, they were, as PG put it, "Practically Besties". 

Now, if she could help it they wouldn't even look each other in the eye, she could tell that it was driving him crazy trying to figure out what happened, what he did. But it wasn't what he did, it was what she did, well more specifically what she dreamed that had changed the entire view of their relationship in her eyes. Not that she could say anything, lest it be ruined further by her selfish desires to make something impossible out of something she already had.

When she zoned back in, everyone was standing, "Wheels up in 50, Morgan, Sunny, does that give you enough time to gather what you need?" Hotch asked and she nodded, packing up her files and rushing out the door as if her tail was on fire. She grabbed her bag and made her way to the elevator, ignoring the call to hold the door, and immediately left the building, getting in her car and driving home to pack her bags for the possible two-week-long case that would require her acting head-over-heels in love with one of her best friends. She just wished that acting was all it was.

Derek Morgan was not known for his humility. His looks, his ability to sweet-talk the clothes right off a woman's body, and his increasing ability to be a thorn in the side of the financial department of the BAU? Maybe. ('The doors, Derek. The doors' she had once explained to him when one of the suit-wearing lower floor employees was glaring at him from the coffee machine) But not his humility.

This was a mistake of quick judgement, anyone who had known him for as long as the team had would tell you, that in fact, Derek Morgan was kind-hearted and surprisingly modest when it came to many areas of his life. 

One of those areas just happened to be her.

He was a profiler; he got paid to practically translate the minds of people others in the criminal justice system could barely dream of empathising with. In layman's terms, he got paid to read people. Consequently, he was also great at fending off similar intuitions from his coworkers that housed the same abilities- good at hiding things from most people.

However, the new and unforeseen pivot of the once strong and budding connection he had with his teammate had thrown him off completely, to a point where he had trouble pulling the wool over even the most oblivious member's eyes. One day they were trading flirtatious and witty remarks over the barrier between their desks and the next she couldn't even make eye contact, she wouldn't as shown by her immediate dismissal of any attempt to communicate within the past week. He was starting to feel the long-term effects of the lack of attention on her part like a withdrawal. 

Like a flower that once preened in a warm wash of intense sun only to be left stretching for even a scrap of light when it was rooted solidly to the ground, blocked from the single isolating cloud that didn't appear to overshadow the rest of the meadow. He had been deprived of his sunlight and it was driving him insane, he depended on her attention for warmth and satisfaction. And even worse he didn't know why, what had he done to make her stop shinning on him? 

He had tried so hard over the past several days once he had noticed something awry, but every time he started up a conversation it was shot down. Not impolitely, but certainly, not friendly either, not the person he had grown to expect over the years, to cherish- the extremes to which he would go to see her smile at him were getting ridiculous, he was an addict and she was selfishly depriving him.

Derek Morgan was distraught.

A small modicum of hope bloomed in his chest when he heard their new assignment. Despite the obviously horrific serial killer, it was one that would not fail to get his heart racing even without the currently present cold turkey from his vice, one he would at any given time derive immense joy from being as close to her as the assignment would entail.

That hope was then snuffed out as she didn't make eye contact, didn't respond to the tease he baited her with, and ran away as soon as the meeting was over, not even holding the elevator door for him whether it be through lack of hearing or effort he did not know. What he did know was that this assignment was happening, that the decision was already made by the higher-ups, and the fact that they would be spending at least the next week together was irrefutable. And his chance to find out whatever he had done and fix it.

A/N: Please comment any and all constructive criticisms you may have!

[analogwriting]

quick disclaimer, this is the first fic I've written in YEARS but it's been consuming my brain. this was a series of dreams i had when i was rewatching one piece and i just kind of stitched them together. it's gonna be an agonizing slowburn too bc i love to torture myself and others frfr. I'm going to try to make this as gender neutral as possible.

It Comes in Waves

Prologue: Deep Water Waves

Trafalgar Law x gn!reader word count: 1.9k next

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

“You’re actually the first person who hasn’t treated him like a monster.” A weak laugh came from a young man whose face resembles somewhat of a jester type and a feathery, dark coat. He shook his head, patting the head of the small boy in the hospital bed. The small child said nothing, just stared at the window. Despite the somewhat gloomy atmosphere around the child, it was a bright and sunny day. As it typically was on this particular island.

They had turned up on this island by chance, the young man having misplaced the map they did have. The weather and ambiance was tropical, the land itself - small. The people were as warm as its atmosphere. It was also an island that wasn’t exactly on the map. The young man traveling with the child just happened upon it anyhow. He had misplaced his map and they ended up just sailing to the next island they saw. It wasn’t until they arrived that they realized it was an uncharted island.

The people were surprised to see them. The young child stuck close with the man he was with. And this man was tall. Easily towered over everyone in the village almost two times. They all seemed more weary of him than the child with spots. Despite all that, they were still greeted warmly and without prejudice. They were quickly led to the island’s hospital which wasn’t as much a hospital as it was just a small hut. It consisted of only one doctor, after all.

“Well, everyone deserves a chance, don’t you think? Besides, it’s my duty as our island’s doctor to aid anyone who needs it.” Another man spoke. He was on the older side, graying hair pulled into a bun on the top of his head. Glasses donned the edge of his nose. “Unfortunately, there’s nothing I can really do. We hardly get support from the outside world as is, so whatever research that’s been made about the disease hasn’t made its way to us. Even if it did, our medicine isn’t as far advanced as some other places.  All I can do is lend some local mixtures and medicines to lessen the pain.” A long sigh came from the doctor. It hurt him to not be able to help the pair more. It was obvious he cared about each of his patients, no matter if they were from the island or not.

“Anything you have would be of great help, doctor.” The younger man smiled and nodded, patting the head of the child who was sitting on the bed. 

“Keiki.” A small squeak came from outside of the door, causing the two guests to turn their heads towards the source of the noise. The doctor sighed, chuckling. “I knew you were eavesdropping, my child.” A young child, about the age of the one currently in the hospital bed, peeked from around the corner. The doctor turned to the two guests. “I apologize for my child. They wish  to also be a doctor when they grow older, so I frequently catch them eavesdropping.” He looked at them and they immediately looked to the floor, inclining their head.

“Sorry, papa.” The child frowned, their cheeks turning pink as they looked down at their shoes, unable to make eye contact.

“I’m not the one you should be apologizing to.”

Another small squeak came from the child, who quickly bowed to the two visitors. “I’m sorry. Please forgive me.” 

The young man couldn’t help but chuckle, shaking his head. “No need. Children are curious.” He was honestly just relieved that the people on this island were so kind. They had been to so many places that treated the child in the bed like he was some kind of monster. He had started to lose his hope in humanity. More than he already had. 

“Alright, run along now, keiki. And I mean it. No more eavesdropping.”

“Yes sir!” The child bowed and turned to run off before the young man spoke up. “Hold on.” 

The child turned back around, looking at him with wide eyes, somewhat worried about what was to come. They knew it wouldn’t be that easy to get away. There was probably going to be some kind of punishment, right? They already knew that their father was going to scold them later. It happened every time. But they couldn’t help it! How could they learn if they didn’t know everything!

However, the young man wasn’t looking at them, but to the one on the bed. “Why don’t you go with them? I have more to discuss with the doctor and I’m sure you don’t want to hear this.” The small child near the doorway blinked, confused on the request. They nodded, not about to argue. Could’ve been worse, honestly. The small boy on the bed opened his mouth as if to argue before the man cut him off. “Go.”

The small boy grumbled but obeyed, following the other child out of the door as the two adults resumed their conversation.

Outside, the sun was shining and the air was warm, accompanied by a nice, cool ocean breeze. The doctor’s child was tending to the garden, pulling some weeds as the other child finally joined them. They sat on the edge of the porch, watching them. “What are you doing?”

“I’m pulling all the weeds out!” A large, warm smile came from the child de-weeding the garden and the boy on the porch felt a weird feeling in his chest. “Why are you doing that? Aren’t they all just plants?” He couldn’t see why it mattered.

“Well, if you don’t get rid of the weeds, they can overpower the flowers and kill them.” They put a handful of weeds in the bucket not far from them. “Like a disease?” The boy looked at them, watching their movements.

The child paused, looking at him. “I…suppose so. Like a disease. You have to take out the bad so that it doesn’t get worse and hurt what’s healthy.” They shrugged, going back to what they were doing.

Silence fell upon the two of them, but it wasn’t uncomfortable. All that was heard was the sound of weeds being ripped out of the ground and the breeze through the trees. The hospital was further from the center of town, so there weren’t many people around.

The doctor’s child finished up their task, setting the bucket next to the house to be disposed of later. They tugged off the gloves and moved to the porch, sitting next to the visitor. The boy watched their every movement, leaning away as they sat next to him. Before they could ask what they were doing, the other spoke up. “So, what’s your name?”

“What you didn’t find out when you were eavesdropping?” A roll of the eyes.

“Well, I missed that part of the conversation.” They didn’t seem ashamed in the slightest that they had been caught listening - completely different from how they were acting before.

The boy looked at them for a long moment, a frown on his face. Then he scoffed and looked away. “What does it matter anyway? I’ll be dead and gone soon enough anyway.” It was clear he didn’t have high hopes on his health. He didn’t see the point in making friends when he was getting ready to leave anyway. And probably dying soon enough.

“Who is supposed to remember you when you’re gone?”

“What?” The boy looked at her with confusion. What did that have to do with anything?

“Here on our island, we believe that no one truly dies until they’re forgotten. We keep photos and mementos of those departed to keep them alive in our memories. They continue to live in our hearts.” They shrugged as if it was the most common of knowledge. 

The boy looked at them incredulously, stunned into silence. Then he scoffed once more, grumbling. “That’s the dumbest thing I’ve ever heard. You’re an idiot for believing it.” The child shrugged, unbothered by what he said. “No one really knows what happens after we die, so why not think that something so warm happens?” He looked at them again, unable to think of what to even say.

“So?” The boy looked at the other child as they spoke. “So what?”

“Who is going to remember you when you’re gone?”

The boy blinked but he couldn’t help but think for a moment. All of his family and friends were dead. The pirate crew he was with was more than happy to forget him. That just left…

“Corazon…” His name left his lips before he even thought about it. Then his face warmed up, pale flesh turning pink.

“Is that the name of the man you’re with?” The child asked, looking at him.

“Uh…” He looked uneasy, as if he wasn’t supposed to say it.

“Don’t worry, I won’t tell.” The child winked, smiling at him once more. Again, the boy felt something weird stir within him. He squirmed, looking away.

“Now, I just need your name.” Another wide smile and another weird feeling.

“Why do you need my name so bad? You gonna forget that easily?”

“Well, not exactly. It’s not every day we get visitors. Especially not someone as tall as Corazon or as grumpy as you.” The boy’s jaw dropped open and he sputtered, trying to find something to say. The child next to him just laughed, filling the air around them with warmth. “I’m just messing with you, geez.” 

“You’re stupid,” he mumbled, folding his arms once more and staring at the flowers below. Silence overcame them again; once more, not an uncomfortable one. It wasn’t long before sniffles could be heard. They were coming from the boy. 

The other looked at him. “Hey, are you alright?” They scooted closer and the boy looked away, wiping his face. “I-I’m fine. Just something in my eye is all.” He sniffled again. “Don’t lie to me. It’s okay to cry. You’re not exactly going through something easy.” The boy looked at the other child with him, his eyes wide. Sure, he heard Corazon say that but it was different when he heard someone else say it. 

It was like a damn broke loose. He just started crying and couldn’t seem to be able to stop. The other child took him in their arms, holding him while he let it all out. They didn’t judge him or think anything else of it. All they saw was someone going through a lot and it was finally bubbling over. They rubbed his back, letting him cry as much as he needed.

Some time later, the crying died down, becoming just sniffles once more. He wiped his eyes, looking at the other. “I-I’m sorry.”

“Don’t say sorry, it’s not your mistake.”

The boy blinked, looking at them in confusion. Not his mistake? What did that even mean?

The other smiled wide. “Want to go into town? There should be an open market today! They have the coolest stuff.” They stood up, heading off the porch, acting as if what had just happened didn’t happen. 

“W-Wait!” The boy stood up, running to catch up. “I need to let Corazon know where I’m going.” He headed back to the hut, turning around. “By the way, my name is-”

[thedannyphantomcookbook]

The Ghost Boy (working title)

Hello!

So I have hit some hard financial times and the cookbook is being put on hold because it's hard to afford to buy ingredients. In the mean time, I need something to occupy my mind since I'm not in the kitchen as much anymore to distract me from my intrusive thoughts. So I decided to finally try my hand at writing Danny Phantom Fanfiction. I've had this idea for a long time that what if instead of a human boy becoming part ghost...what if Danny had been a ghost first that became human? It's one part rewrite, and one part AU, this is the prologue chapter to that fic. It's a little rough to read, because it is the first chapter I've written of anything in YEARS. And despite being an English major in college, I was a B average student, I wasn't THAT good haha. So, if I actually manage to complete the fic in it's entirety - because I usually will stop writing if I get to a block that I can't think my way out of - I am hoping to find beta readers or bounce ideas off of someone to help me develop this retelling of Danny Phantom. If you like it, give me a thumbs up, reblog, message me, you know the drill. Enjoy!

As Ryan headed out for his third EMT emergency response call for the night, he thought to himself he’d never feel dry ever again.

It was nearly one a.m. A rainstorm was blowing through Amity Park, bringing torrential downpours. Flash flood warnings had been issued and people were asked to stay off the streets, since the rain and the August heat created thick humidity that made visibility low and driving dangerous. Ryan had been an EMT long enough though to know that despite the weather and warnings, people were still going to be out on the roads. 

As he donned his heavy rain jacket, which wasn’t any drier from the last run, he heard the dispatcher over the intercom. 

“20 year old female driver injured. Possible pedestrian injury, mental health crisis. Assumed juvenile teen male.”

Ryan groaned. His mind started going through all the possibilities. Mental health crisis’ were one thing. But when it was a kid…it’d made these calls much harder to get through. If there were parents involved, they could be hysterical, which would make it harder to give the child treatment. Or if the parents weren’t involved, that added an entire different layer of difficulty to wade through. The parents could be substance abusers, neglecting their child over a needle or a pill. Or instead of abusing drugs, they were abusing the child, which would explain why a child would be out in this kind of weather. Arrests would be made, paperwork would have to be filled out, and CPS would be called. Hopefully the child would have family to care for him, but if not, he’d be entered into the foster care system, moving from one home to another and left alone to process the trauma from that night. The child might even already be in the foster care system, and ran away. Ryan has seen a lot of those cases over the years. Either way, this wasn’t going to be an easy night.  

When they arrived, police had already gone to work setting up a detour. Blue and red emergency lights and bright work lights lit up the scene. A car had veered off to the side of the road and struck a telephone pole which had fallen over the sedan. The driver side door was open, its driver sitting with her legs hanging over the side. There was a large gash in her forehead that was being treated by the Firehouse EMTs who had arrived first. To the left of the car, the Firehouse Ambulance sat with its back doors open. A small figure sitting on the gurney inside, wrapped in a blanket. 

A police officer walked up to him. Ryan recognized him and narrowed his eyes. It was Darrel, his least favorite police officer on the force, who was the least compassionate and cared more about how shiny his badge was than any actual good he could be doing. 

Darrel jabbed a thumb towards the driver and started talking, skipping over basic greetings. “Chick over there is a fucking mess. I gotta get a statement from her but I can’t understand her between the sobs and this fucking rain.” He swiped a hand across his face, wiping rainwater out of his eyes. “Can you try talking to the kid? I doubt we’ll get anything out of him though. He’s a little psycho.” 

Darrel didn’t bother to wait for a response and walked away. Ryan watched him walk away, glaring. Of course, Darrel would sum up a traumatized kid as “psycho.” 

Ryan shook off his frustration and headed to the ambulance. A Firehouse EMT saw him approach and hopped out of the vehicle. Ryan glanced at her badge and read her name was Bethany.

“The kid doesn’t appear to have been hit at all,” the Bethany shouted over the rain. “There are no marks anywhere on his body, no bruises or scratches. We scanned his scalps for bumps. Kid seems to be clean. You should probably still get an MRI scan on him at the hospital.”

Ryan peeked around the EMT’s shoulder. The child was wrapped in a thick gray blanket, shaggy black hair hiding his face. He was shivering, despite the hot, humid night.

“What’s his name?” Ryan asked. “Have parents been notified?” 

Bethany shook her head. “He won’t talk. Possible symptoms of shock, but there’s probably something else going on. He was found naked.” 

Ryan grimaced. Again, that could mean any number of things. For now, he would treat the situation as a psychotic breakdown.

“Let me try talking to him,” Ryan offered. “Just me and the kid.” 

Bethany shrugged. “Suit yourself.” She waved to the other EMT sitting in the truck with the kid. “Let us know if you need help.” They walked off to check in with the driver.

Ryan climbed into the ambulance and sat across from the kid. He took a few moments to study him. He was a pale, skinny kid with long limbs. Wide, electric blue eyes stared back at him, and was definitely scared. Ryan put him at around maybe 14 years old.

“Hey there,” The EMT gave a soft smile. “My name is Ryan. I’m here to help. Can you tell me your name?” 

The kid blinked at him, not answering. He continued to shiver at him, hands tucked underneath his arms. He left it open in the center, exposing his naked frame. 

“Here.” Ryan reached on either side of the kid. He recoiled sharply. 

“It’s okay,” Ryan reassured gently, moving slow. “I just want to get you warm.” He folded the blanket over him more tightly. “You can hold on to it if you like.” 

Hesitantly, the boy untucked one of his hands and grasped at the blanket, his knuckles turning white with effort. 

“Better?” 

The boy looked away, and then jerkily nodded.

Ryan leaned back. “Good. Now how about that name?” 

He remained silent. His hand clenched and unclenched at the blanket. Ryan waited, quiet and patient. Rain pounded on the roof of the ambulance above them. From outside, Ryan could hear the broken sobs from the driver.

“H-he c-came out of n-nowhere, I s-s-swear,” the girl wailed. “I promise I wasn’t s-speeding. Oh, god I h-h-HATE driving in the rain at night, my b-boss wouldn’t let me go home early.”

“Miss, take some deep breaths for me, okay?” Darrel said, without a hint of compassion in his tone. “No one is in trouble yet. We’re just trying to figure out what happened.” 

“D-did I hit him? Is he okay? Everything h-happened so f-f-fast,” she stuttered. “Oh, god I’m s-so s-s-sorry.” 

“He is being looked at now by the medical team,” the police officer answered, then added, “He appears to be awake and alert.” 

More sobbing echoed across the street. 

Ryan watched the boy in front him, who still shivered with his head tucked in, breathing quiet rapid breaths. As the silence stretched on, he wondered if the kid was non verbal. He seemed to at least understand English, so he could rule out any kind of language barrier or deafness. 

“Are you in any pain?” Ryan tried again. “Any discomfort anywhere?”

The boy shook his head. 

“What about family? Anyone we can call for you?” 

The boy remained silent. 

Ryan sighed. “Okay, kid. No worries. We’ll get you taken care of.” The kid may not even remember who his family is, if he was indeed having a psychotic episode.

“I’m going to start taking your vitals now,” Ryan stated, pulling out a pulse oximeter. “Can I see your hand?” 

The boy looked up at him. Looked down at the oximeter and back at Ryan, uncertainty etched across his face.

“It doesn’t hurt, I promise.” Ryan demonstrated on his own hand and wiggled his fingers. “See?” 

Another long moment passed. Then, slowly, the boy let go of the blanket and held out a trembling hand. Ryan felt a quiet relief. He was starting to get through to the kid. As gently as he could, Ryan clamped the oximeter onto the boy’s finger. The boy flinched, but only slightly.

“See? Not so bad.” He pointed to the little digital screen, which was displaying the number 120 beats. “This reads your pulse and tells me how fast your heart is beating.”

“Heart…beat,” The boy whispered, surprising Ryan. The kid stared at the little device, almost wondrous.

“Yeah,” Ryan smiled. “You’re alive, kiddo.” 

______________________________________________________________

He was a John Doe. There were no hospital records of him. No dental or fingerprint records. It’s as if he had never existed until a few days ago. 

Jazz quietly watched the boy through the little window into the hospital room as her parents talked with the CPS agent. The boy sat upright in bed, watching the TV that hung across the room. The hospital gown swallowed his thin frame, making him look smaller than he actually was. It had been three days since he was found at the car accident. His photograph had been shared all over the major news channel, asking the public if anyone recognized him. So far, no one has come forward. 

“Thank you so much again for doing this Jack and Maddie,” Judy, the CPS agent said. “I understand that you stopped fostering years ago, but I’ve called everyone else in the area. No one else had the room.”

“How could we have said no?” Maddie touched a hand to her heart. “The poor child. Someone must be missing him. He looks so sweet.” She looked over at him and frowned, sympathetic. 

Judy shrugged and shook her head.. “I can’t imagine either, but you know how these things can be.” 

Jack clasped a hand on Maddie’s shoulder.”Well until then, we’ll give that kid the best home he’s ever known. He doesn’t know how good my Famous Fenton Fudge is!” He patted his belly. “He’ll never want to leave.” 

As they went over the details and paperwork, Jazz thought about her role as a big foster sister. She had been little when her parents housed the last foster kid. She didn’t have too many memories of that time period. Just older kids using the second bedroom in their house, some of them taking time to play with her, some of them wanting nothing to do with her. She remembered how weird and confusing it was, especially when her friends in kindergarten had siblings that actually stayed and lived at the house with them. 

Before she was born, her parents had a hard time conceiving, and decided to foster kids in hopes that they could nurture young minds into becoming scientists like them. Unfortunately, their specific focus turned heads away more often than inspired them. 

Jazz’s parents were ghost hunters. They believed not only that ghosts existed, but that there was an entirely separate dimension in which these ghosts existed. They also believed ghosts held unique properties that could propel the world decades into the future. It could change medicine, become a different source of electricity, help create new inventions for anything from cars to televisions and more.The opportunities could potentially be endless. 

The only problem is there was no proof ghosts exist. Just a pile of conspiracy theories and hoax videos from online, and some texts theorizing their existence. Technically and literally speaking, ghosts were not real. 

It was always embarrassing having to tell people what her parents did for work. Jazz had learned by now that as long as she changed the subject quick enough after saying her parents were “scientists conducting independent research,” there wouldn’t be any follow up questions. Her parents were also why Jazz wanted to go into neuroscience when she graduated high school. For one, the brain was actually real and for two, there was so much about the brain that was yet to be discovered. How the brain changes its own chemistry overtime due to outside circumstances, circumstances that don’t physically touch the brain at all. How can a single moment alter the way we think, feel, see, and hear? To Jazz, there was no stranger phenomenon.

It’s also why she was so excited to meet her new foster brother. She had eavesdropped on her parents’ conversation with Judy earlier that day. A boy found with no memories of who he is, where he had come from, or who he belonged to. It was sad, of course and scary, not knowing anything about who you are. But what events led to this? Will there be weird behavior patterns that will be linked to the trauma his brain buried deep within his mind? And just maybe, Jazz could help identify what disorder or mental illness he has, get one step closer to treatment, and one step closer to finding himself and his real family. The idea that Jazz could figure out what was wrong with the boy, before the doctors, thrilled her to her core.

“Would you like to meet him?” The voice startled Jazz from her thoughts. She looked around and found Judy beside her.

“I think he might benefit from meeting someone close to his age,” she explained. “Make a friend.”

“Oh.” Of course, that would make sense. He would need someone to connect to, to rely on, and confide in. Jazz could certainly be that person. Her chest rose a bit. “Absolutely.” 

Judy smiled. “Wonderful.” She knocked on the boy’s door and poked her head in. “Hey there, kiddo. Do you remember me? I’m Judy.” 

The boy’s gaze broke away from the TV to look at her. “Yes. Hello, Judy.” His voice sounded young, like it hadn’t hit that drop growing older would bring.

“I want you to meet Jasmine Fenton. You’ll be living with her for a bit.”

Jazz stepped around Judy. She waved. “Hi, I’m Jazz.”

“Hello, Jazz,” he said evenly, neither friendly or aggressive. 

“I thought you two might like to chat, and get to know each other.” Judy suggested. “You’ll also be going to school with her.” 

They decided they were going to enroll him in at Casper High School as a freshmen. The doctors hoped that by giving him a normal environment might help jog some of his memories.

“That’s right,” Jazz jumped in. “I can show you around the school, introduce you to your teachers, help you with homework after,” she rattled off. The boy just blinked at her and Jazz wondered if he understood any of what she was saying. 

“I gotta go finish up some paperwork,” Judy said. “Be back in a few.” She left Jazz and the boy alone. 

They stared at each other for a moment, quietly taking one another in. The boy didn’t fidget. If anything he was eerily calm. 

“So…” Jazz started. “How have they been treating you here?” 

“Fine,” the boy stated simply.

“I’m sure it’s been weird, with all these people visiting you.” She crossed the room to sit in the chair beside his bed. 

“Yes,” the boy agreed. “They bring me food and ask me questions I don’t know the answer to.” He looked down at his lap, as if he were disappointed.

“That’s okay. You don’t have to know them yet.” Jazz told him.

“I don’t?” he asked, as if that had never occurred to him before. Had no one told him it was perfectly okay to not know everything about himself yet?

“Of course not,” Jazz shook her head. “Sometimes things happen and because of those things, we forget stuff. Like who we are.” 

“Oh.” He thought about that for a moment before saying, “Do you forget who you are sometimes?”

Jazz laughed. “Oh no, not quite like that. I mean, I forget to do things like take out the trash, but it’s because I’m focused on doing other things like reading. I just meant more like, sometimes a big event happens, like that girl in the car from the accident. It upset her so much that her brain might make her forget the details of the night to protect her.” 

The boy frowned. “Protect her…how?” 

“Sometimes the things we know and remember cause a lot of emotional stress,” Jazz tried to explain, secretly happy she was getting to describe psychology to him. “It upsets us so we don’t remember it. But eventually, and with help, we can remember it so that it doesn’t upset us anymore.” 

The boy thought about it. “Do you think something upsetting happened to me? Is that why I can’t remember things?”

“It is possible, yeah.” Jazz felt a little guilty just then. This wasn’t how she wanted the conversation to go. They were supposed to be getting to know each other, not play psychologist and patient. She looked around the room to change the subject and noticed he was watching an old Batman movie.

“So…you like superheroes?”

The boy shrugged. “I guess. I like this Batman show.” On the screen, the villain The Penguin was at his mayoral rally and everyone had just heard his own recorded voice saying he played the citizens of Gotham city. The penguin bared his decaying, pointed teeth at the crowd as they all booed at him.

Jazz chuckled lightly. “Yeah, I wasn’t a fan of Danny DeVito in this one.”

“Who?” The boy asked quizzically. 

“Danny DeVito. He’s the actor that plays the Penguin.” 

“Oh. Who plays Batman?”

“Michael Keaton.”

Together they watched the movie. The Penguin was pelted by rotten food before turning his armored umbrella upon the crowd, screaming.

“I feel bad for the Penguin,” the boy suddenly spoke up. 

Jazz looked over at him, curious. “How so?” 

“At the beginning of the movie, he just wanted to find his parents,” The boy fidgeted with the remote in his lap. “He was raised by…penguins.” He wrinkled his nose.

“Yeah.” Jazz shifted in her seat to face him a little more. “It is kind of a silly idea, being raised by penguins.” 

“But it’s not just that, he…” he trailed off, and then said quietly, “he just wanted to know who he was.” 

Jazz understood how he felt connected to The Penguin, at least from that point of view. “It was a part of his villain arc. He was mad that his parents abandoned him, so he blamed the city.” She paused thoughtfully before saying, “do you think your parents did that? Abandoned you?”

“I don’t know.” His shoulders slumped, and he seemed to curl into himself. “They aren’t here.” 

She regretted asking that question, feeling like she was doing a bad job at this, playing psychologist. She thought she’d be better at this. She wanted to be better at this. There was so much unspoken hurt in the boy, and so much not known about him, and no one was coming forward to claim him.

On screen, the Penguin had returned to the sewers and was yelling at his clown like henchmen to not call him Oswald anymore and that he no longer considered himself a human being, but a cold blooded animal. The henchmen stood around him, uncertain of what to do.

“I don’t even know my name,” the boy said, softly. 

Jazz’s heart ached for him. Suddenly an idea popped into her mind. “You could come up with your own name.”

He paused for a moment. “My own name?” 

“Yeah! I mean, why not?” Jazz grew excited with the idea. “You don’t want to go around being called ‘John Doe.’”

“I guess not.” He thought about it, sitting up a little straighter. “Oswald?”

Jazz bursted out laughing. The boy was startled and then flushed with embarrassment. 

“No, I’m sorry,” Jazz giggled, and then immediately felt guilty. “No one actually uses that name. You don’t want people to call you that, trust me. It’s super lame.”

“Oh. Okay.” He was quiet for one more moment. “What about Danny?”

“Danny?” He was thinking of Danny DeVito. Jazz wanted to giggle again, but fought against. No one needed to know he got his name from the comedic actor. “That’s not a bad one. It’s good, actually.” 

“Is it?” he asked, doubt still lingering in his voice.

“It is.” Jazz affirmed. She stuck her hand to shake and smiled. The boy looked at it before extending his own. Jazz grasped it warmly.

“It’s to meet you, Danny Fenton.” 

And for the first time since he had been discovered, Danny smiled back.

[thelonelyshore-if]

Hello! I'd like to start by saying that I absolutely love your IF- the concept is just so cool and I'm always so trying to imagine what happens next/what's actually going on behind the scenes.

To get to my main point, I'm considering starting an IF of my own but I'm having some issues... I was wondering how much you had thought out when you first started yours? Did you have the entire plot planned out with every single event or has it ever happened where you just kind of winged it?

Hey there, Nonnie!! Thank you so much. If you'd believe it, I'm also literally always thinking about what comes next lmao. I'm glad you're enjoying <3

I've written a bit about TLS and my process below to try and answer your other questions!!

Planning out TLS has been easier for me than it might have been otherwise, because the story is based on a tabletop campaign I ran for a few of my friends. TLS itself is based on a single session (though the world of Easthaven was the campaign's overall setting), and I've changed a lot to make it work as an IF, but I still had that general knowledge of the plot.

When I first started out, I had that rough estimate and little else. Just big plot points vaguely floating around in my mind (none of which are yet in the story, since the MC & Willow are exclusive to the IF). I worked out how I wanted the story to start, and for pretty much all of the prologue and even chapter one that's what I had.

Halfway through writing chapter two, though, I sat down and wrote out a chapter-by-chapter outline of the whole story. To do things like foreshadow and build up to certain events, I needed to know where they fit in the overall scheme of things.

That being said, I'm very flexible with that outline. I have unquestionably winged it lol. I've already shifted around the order of scenes in chapter 3 multiple times. While writing I'm able to sort of figure out what feels right and tweak the order of events as necessary to make the story flow.

If I was to give any advice, I'd recommend an outline. It doesn't have to be 'this is everything that's going to happen', (in fact, I don't think I'd personally be able to work with an outline that has every single thing written down), but writing down major events in a rough timeline can be a huge help. The smaller scenes and details can always be moved around or fleshed out as needed, but having plot milestones you know you're writing towards can be super helpful.

Especially considering interactive fiction specifically has so many moving parts! I find it helpful to keep track of everything if I at least have a loose idea of where I'm going c:

I'm not sure how much help this is, but it's sort of my general process. I wish you luck if you decide to write an IF--I've found a lot of joy in mine, and I hope that if you go for it you find the same <3

[ikemen-translations]

Morganatic Idol Prologue 2/10

A few days later...

Female employee 1 (FE1): MC, analyze this data!

FE2: Please bring up the results of this web survey! ASAP!

FE3: Help me collect my materials! Hurry!

MC: Yes!

Ever since the news of the competition came out, the employees have been strangely excited

All the work I'm given is to research Exe Creed

(Everyone is working really hard on their plans. I can't afford to lose either)

Although I think so, I am unable to find any time to think about my own plans due to the constant work that comes my way

(I have to do something!)

On my day off, I went downtown

(If I can't do it on weekdays, I'll have to try on my holidays!)

(Today is the release date of the Exe Creed's new song. At the same time, a special limited edition MV will be played in the city)

(I hope you can come up with some good ideas by looking at it)

The time when the limited MV will be played was announced on the group's SNS

(It's almost time...)

Everyone is waiting for the right time. And then... Exe Creed suddenly appeared in the large vision

Females: Yay!!!

(Wow, great cheers!)

On the screen, the members are singing and dancing along with high-level images

Young woman 1 (YW1): Oh no! Isn't the limited MV the best!?

YW2: It's so cool! I'm so happy to see it on the big screen!

It was definitely a great MV. You can see that everyone is captivated by them and enthusiastic about them

MC: ...

I've been researching them a lot lately, so I have a lot of information about their songs, history and members

(Jace is unrivaled in his splendor)

(Finn steals attention with his wild dance)

(Hugh moves like a precision machine)

(Ivy, the leader who brings together everyone's individuality)

(And... Xeno who has a overwhelming presence)

It's really amazing...

Their brillance captivates people

(I don't know much about singing or dancing, i didn't know much about Exes until now)

(Still, I can see why they are "special". It's no wonder they are so popular but...)

While many women stopped and stared at them, I felt something was off

(I wonder what it is? It's a perfect visual and It's a great song and dance but... I feel like something is missing)

MC: What's missing...?

I continued to stare at them intently

The camera takes a close-up shot of Xeno and his gaze turns toward me

MC: !

The moment I was pierced by the freezing cold, I felt like something came to my mind

(This is it! I have to write down my current idea...!)

I frantically ran my pen across the notepad

A strong wind blows at just the righ moment

MC: Wow...! Oh, the memo!

When the paper leaves my hand, it flies away and disappears somewhere in the blink of an eye

(Oops! It's already too late to take it back)

Giving up, I write down the idea on another piece of paper and quicly turn on my heel

(Let's go home quickly. I have to give form to this feeling before I forget it!)

At the same time...

There were men watching her from a place a little away from the street vision

???: That child just looked at the video with an amazing look on her face

???: That's how much she was captivated by our perfomance, right?

???: I hope so. Anyway, It seems like the response has been better than expected. I guess it's a successful promotion

???: ... so many people

???: ... Ah, I understand the situation. Enough inspection before this vision

???: Okay, everyone, get in the car. We don't have much time until the next recording

The sound of paper rustling beneath his feet takes his attention

???: Huh? Something got caught in my leg... memo?

???: Isn't that the same paper that child wrote on earlier?

The man who picked up the note read the words written on it and his eyes widened slightly

???: ... !

???: what's up?

???: No, it's nothing. I just thought I saw something interesting. Hehehe

???: I don't really get it, but it looks like it's going to be fun

Previous / Next

[graces-mindscape]

UnderInfection Prologue Ch. 2; The Cave pt 1

"It's ok!" he called back, "I'm alright!"

Conner stood up and brushed himself off, quickly running a hand through his long, chocolate-colored hair. Having just fallen about nine or ten feet, he was lucky to have slid on some dirt that helped cushion his fall. Verdana leaned over the edge, looking down at him. Just as she was about to say something, she let out a yip as the ground caved under her, causing her to fall in with him, and land right on her pelvis.

"Ow! My coccyx." she exclaimed rubbing her back.

"Are all skeletons that specific?" Conner laughed as he helped her up.

"It's not that weird" she said taking his hand and dusting off her shirt, "it's like when a human says "ouch! My back' or whatever you all say."

"Like when you hit your hand and go 'oww my calves!'" Conner said jokingly, pretending to hurt his hand, giving the wrong term on purpose.

Verdana giggled. "Yeah!"

Conner rolled his eyes with a smirk, clearly she didn't get the joke.

"Nnnrg, where are we?' Verdana rubbed her skull a bit as she looked around the hole. It seemed way to deep to crawl out of, and to make matters worse the "walls" seemed to be loose dirt and sand, making any attempt out impossible.

"Not sure" Conner responded, also looking around. Suddenly, his gaze landed on a strange plant up against one of the newly formed walls. The plant seemed just about half his size when he walked up to it. "Woaaahhhh, check this out!" he kneeled beside the plant to examine it. It was bulbous in shape and came up to a point near the top; what made Conner even more interested were the colors. The plant was grey, at least at its base. It had pitch black splotches and red speckles all over it with a black tip and red leaves to match.

"Wow, look at this thing!" he exclaimed, grabbing a stick.

"Conner? Do you really think you should be-" before Verdana could finish her sentence, Conner poked the plant with the branch he found. Almost immediately, the plant shot out a large cloud of spores. Conner tried his best to cover his face with his elbow, but not before breathing in some of the fumes. He coughed as he fanned the spores away.

"See? I knew you shouldn't have messed with it!" Verdana exclaimed with a worried tone.

"Hey don't worry, I'm ok." Conner grinned as the cloud subsided, sounding a little breathy. As he began to stand up, he felt a sudden wave of dizziness come over him causing him to stumble back a bit. He of course caught himself, but he decided he wouldn't tell Verdana. The last thing he wanted was her freaking out about him.

"How are we going to get out of here?" Verdana moaned

"Can't skeletons teleport?" Conner asked.

"Well yeah, but I haven't gotten much of a handle on it yet. It takes a lot of my magic and I can only do it about twice a day"

Conner groaned at the fact. He decided to look around one more time.

"Look! Over there!" he pointed to what seemed to be some sort of cave opening near where the plant was. "Looks like some kind of opening, it could be a way out!"

"Are you sure Conner? What if it only leads deeper into the mountain..." Verdana looked at the cave anxiously.

"Hey, it's ok. Besides, if it doesn't go anywhere, we can just come back and wait until your magic comes back, right?" he shot her a confident, reassuring smile.

She looked at the cave, still nervous, then looked at him,eventually returning the smile.

"Alright... let's go!"

----

Read the beginning here

Soooooo it's been awhile! I've honestly been putting off posting the next segment because I told myself I was going to draw panels for it, buuuuuut I'm a lot better at writing than drawing comics so the entire time I was just too intimidated and demotivated so I never posted despite having it already written.

So! I'm going to post it anyway, but this time in two segments! I'll post the next part next week and trust me, that's when things start to really get interesting. 0-0

Stay tuned and enjoy!

Underinfection by me ^^

[magic-lee-me]

Writer's Block

~While I've written t-word fics for myself, this is my first t-word fic on Tumblr. It's just a fun exercise for writing... although it was hard for me to get through lol I usually get so flustered that I end up not finishing them.

I'm not too worried about making this perfect. I just wanted to get something out to share that I made :) Hope you enjoy!!~

A and B walk into the kitchen as I bang my head on the countertop. "You're still stuck on that chapter?" B asks before grabbing a box of raspberries from the fridge.

“I. Can't. Think. Of. Anything." I fight the urge to smash my face on the keyboard.

"You'll get through it easy peasy, lemon squeezy," A says before grabbing a plate of pork belly. The two of them make their way to the fluffy couch in the living room.

I wish I could watch the movie with them instead... How hard is it to add foreshadowing to the stupid chapter?

"Okay," I mutter to myself. I reread the last couple of paragraphs to refresh my mind. So the main character has to say something stupid so the supporting characters can kick off the plot. Alright. I can do this.

Tap.

I delete the letter. I tap a couple more keys, but I frown and smash the backspace button. After a few minutes of blank staring, I manage to complete a few sentences.

Which all suck.

Growling, I slam the laptop shut and bury my face in my arms on top. "I'm the worst writer in the world."

B sighs. "Take a break already. You've been at that same piece for over a week."

"Sure, why don't I just give up on this already? I'm already a failure."

"No, you're not!" A says.

"Don't make me laugh."

I wallow in the silence until B finally speaks up, "Maybe the two of us could help you with your funk."

"What, are you both miracle workers for writer's - hey!" Someone wraps their arms around my torso from behind and pulls me off the bar stool. I nearly knock it over flailing my legs around until B snatches them.

"Got 'em!" B cheers.

"To the living room!" A says.

As much as I try to glare at them, my mouth stretches into a smile at the silliness. They maneuver their way into the living room, setting me down on the carpet. "Whew, thanks - wait." My pulse quickens when A pulls my arms over my head and pins them to the floor with their knees. My eyes widen when B yanks off my shoes and sits on my shins.

I tug at my arms, but my hoodie inches up my belly. I wiggle my feet, but my socks start bunching around my heels.

They have me trapped. Too well. "W...What's going on?"

"You've been in that writer's funk for too long," B says, leaning closer and smirking.

"So, we decided to help you," A adds, booping my nose.

I gulp. "What...what exactly are you gonna do?"

"That's the best part." B's smirk turns devilish. "You're going to narrate a story of what we do to you."

"And we have the perfect prompt for you." A flutters their fingers against my ears.

"Hey!" I squeak, scrunching my shoulders.

"Consider that a prologue."

Oh.

Oh. Crap.

"And you keep going," B continues, "until the very. End. Of the story."

Already, I'm laughing from nerves. "Uh, hehe, we really don't have to do this, right?"

"And have you thinking you're a failure?" B taps their fingers on the carpet, dangerously close to my exposed sides. I shudder and giggle. "Not a chance, buddy."

"Aw, you're already laughing," A coos. "And we haven't even done anything yet."

I curl my toes. "Come on! That's not fair! It's not my fault I thought B was gonna dig into my sides and - EEEHEEHEEhahaha!" I wiggle under the rapidly poking fingers. Ugh, I can't block the attacks!

"You mean like this?" B asks in a cruelly innocent voice.

"Yes! YEHEHES! Hahaha stop!" The tingles remain even after B's hands pull away, leaving me gasping.

B grins mischievously. "You're already out of breath after that? However are you going to get through this story?"

All I can do is whine.

"So..." A bends down and boops my nose. "What's my turn like?"

I already giggle at the thought. "Do I have to tell?"

"Well, you're supposed to show." A smirks wickedly. "But we can do that for you."

I gulp. "Well...you can start with...my ribs." I flinch when A's fingertips lightly spider up and down my rib cage.

"I start here, do I?" A's voice lilts in my ear. "So that means I can go...here?"

Laughter bursts out as the spidering gets faster and goes across my bare belly! "Nohoho NOOHOOHOHOOHAHAHA!"

"But that's what you told us," B said, "so A is showing you how it goes."

"Hahaha switch, swihihihitch!"

A stops, but B traces my kneecaps. I can't kick B off, despite how much I'm wriggling. "That's not - eek! - what I meheheheant."

"You said to switch, yes?"

Ugh, if I could just swipe that smirk off B's face... "I didn't mehean trahahacihihing!"

"Why didn't you say so?" B's fingertips trail over my knee and squeeze the top. After a few pinches, they trace down my knees and squeeze under!

I yelp, then melt into giggles.

"Aww, look how blushy you are," B says.

A grins. "The two methods are working!"

"I just - hahaha - wanted one kihihind! Not two! Hahaha!" I can't shake B off my legs.

"Hey, I'm just showing you. You're the one telling." Extra pinches. "Not my fault if you leave out certain details."

"Sh...Shaddup!"

The two of them gasp. B pulls their hands away, letting me gather my senses. "Did you just tell me to shut up?" they say in a melodramatic tone.

"How rude!" A pouts, placing a hand on their chest. "We're only trying to help our little friend with their funk."

"Just for that..."

I don't like their smug faces. I don't...

"PLOT TWIST!"

I shriek when A digs into my sides and B flutters at my heels. "The characters take over the story and attack the author!"

"H-Hey, wahahait!" I'm utterly stuck. I can't even wriggle side-to-side to escape the rib counting! "Nohohoho! Hehehelp!"

"Sorry, buddy," A says, plunging into my pits. "But we need to make sure you have plenty of inspiration for writing." The hoodie fabric does nothing to keep my sensitive spots safe.

"I do! I dohohoho! Hahahaha!"

I gasp as cold air hits my soles. B tugs off the rest of my socks before lightly scratching at my toes. "EEEP! Hahahaha nohoho!"

"This is what you get for telling me to shut up." B grins down at me.

My cheeks hurt from smiling. "Okay okahahahahay! I'm sohohorry heeheehee!"

"Are you though?"

I can't talk anymore. I'm laughing too much.

Finally, they stop. I cough as I catch my breath. "You two...are...the worst."

"But you had fun, right?" B's hands are still on my toes as a silent threat. "And you got some inspiration to finish that stupid chapter."

I nod.

"There we go!" A says with one more poke to my belly. "Now you won't feel like a failure."

"Can...can I get...water?"

A and B help me sit up and guide me to the couch to rest. B pours me a cup of water as A lets me lay against their shoulder. "Once you get a hold of yourself," they said, "you can get back to writing."

"Just remember," B adds. "If you ever get into another funk, we're gonna have to do this all over again."

I instinctively flinch and bury my face in my hands. But...maybe this method of dealing with writer's block isn't so bad.

[dumbass-tumbler-cryptid]

I don't know if this is asking too much (if so, I'm sorry) but could you write at least one shot from Paz Lives AU? About family daily life. Or Cabin in the Woods with Hunter, Spider and the twins? I love the dynamics you described and in the form of a short story it would be a masterpiece haha. But I also don't want to distract you too much from the original Canina or seem like Im asking for something all the time in an annoying form

Your not annoying me at all. And if I put Cabin on pause to write a oneshot then that's my choice, I'm fully capable of saying "I like that idea, I'll write it after Cabin."

I don't know if I'll ever write a Paz lives modern Au oneshot. I do have more of those bullet point thoughts written out that I just haven't posted yet but that might be as far as I go with that au. Same with the idea of Cabin with the twins. I like the idea in concept but I don't think I'll take in further then bullet point ideas. That being said I've got a lot of idea's for that au so allow me to share those now

So same sequence of events as Cabin, Paz is killed by a drunk driver while she's pregnant, only this time she's expecting twins and is already a mother to 5 year old Spider and 2 year old Hunter. the twins were able to be saved, Quaritch goes to jail for trying to kill Paz's killer, and all the siblings end up in foster care.

I was reading articles on why siblings are separated in the foster system for another ask and there are a few different reasons but in this case it would be 1. lack of resources. there are just too many of them and no one willing to take in four kids all at once. 2. Spider is of course traumatized from the sudden loss of both his parents and as a result gets super protective of his siblings, to a point where he makes it almost impossible for any adult to take care of any of them. 3. age. Spider is the only one who would be able to remember his siblings. the others are too little to be really bonded to each other. Because of all this it's decided that it'll be best if the kids are separated. The younger kids will all go to stable homes and Spider can get one on one help to process the loss of his family.

Spider never accepts it though, growing bitter at a very young age, hating and distrusting all the adults tasked with caring for him.

Remember in the Cabin prologue when Quaritch went to visit Spider in his group home? That happens here too only instead Spider is 7 and is over joyed to see his dad, begging him to take him away. Quaritch refuses, saying that he needs to get him and his siblings back legally but Norm still catches him and accuses Quaritch of trying to kidnap Spider. This too all plays out like in Cabin with Quaritch being dubbed mentally unstable and having his parental rights terminated.

After this incident though Spider starts running away from his foster homes. He's not specifically trying to get back to his dad, he just really wants out. He's found and brought back every time but as he gets older he gets better at it. His record is going 16 days without being found. He was 11 at the time.

When Spider is 12 he get's placed with the McCosker's

Nash McCosker is an abusive ass hole who screams at and beats Spider for the smallest offense. He threatens Spider with even worse if he tries to tell anyone about it.

So in the middle of the night Spider packs up his backpack and runs

It's around four in the morning, he's exhausted, it feeling like his lungs could burst he's been running for so long and all he wants is to lay down for a little bit, but he knows he can't. He only has two more hours before someone notices that's he's gone. So he forces himself to keep going

But then a car pulls up, blocking his path. The window rolls down, reveling his dad. "get in." he commands

Spider is stunned. A mix of emotions floods him. Shock, anger, grief. He hasn't seen his father since that day at the group home, years ago now. He had said he was trying to get him back. instead he seemed to have abandoned him.

Seeing no other options though Spider gets into his dad's car.

His heart breaks when they pull up to their old family home, now standing like a memorial of everything they've lost.

The moment they get inside Spider turns on his father, "Why did you leave me! You said you where trying to get me back! to get use all back! What the hell happened to that!"

Quaritch does his best to calm his son, explaining everything, that he tried to get them back the legal way but the courts where rigged against him and terminated his parental rights. That he's been watching over all of his kids but particularly Spider since his living situation is the worst out of all of the siblings.

He explains that now that Spider is a know run away he can just stay with him, living in their old home. No one will suspect Quaritch of kidnapping. If the cops come by looking for Spider he can hide in the attic until they leave. In enough time the search will be dropped and they can live peacefully

"but what about my siblings? how can we get them back?" Spider askes innocently.

"don't you worry about that right now. Papa's got a plan. For right now I'm more concerned about you. We'll focus on your siblings once your in the clear."

Spider's a nervous wreak the first few weeks of living with his dad again.

because this is the best he's had it since before his mom died and he's terrified that'll all be ripped away again.

His dad is just as paranoid listening to a police scanner every second of the day.

The police showed up with a search warrant after a month. Spider was safely tucked away in the attic long before they got there.

The entrance to the attic is in a closet on the second floor. it's easy to miss if you don't know where to look. It's completely un detectable after Quaritch hides it with mountains of junk typical for a hallway closet.

the police search the whole house and the surrounding area. They search that closet to. But they never find the attic.

Shortly after the search is called off. Miles "Spider" Socorro is just gone, with no hope of ever finding him.

Father and son are thrilled. they settle into a semblance of a life together. Spider can never really leave the house. His dad homeschools him, but it's no replacement for the social interactions he'd have at a real school. The isolation only makes the absence of his siblings hurt all the more.

It took his father months to even get Spider to go upstairs. The kid broke down when he saw his old room, still exactly how it had been when he'd been taken away. No matter how much time passed he could never bring himself to venture further down the hall. Every time he so much as glanced at the shut doors of his siblings abandoned bedrooms his heart ached.

It took time, but his dad helped him redo his old bedroom, turning it into something befitting of a preteen.

After six months of living with each other Quaritch took Spider out to "visit" his siblings

Hunter was 10 at the time. He was at school, quietly reading on the playground, his face so closely pressed into the book, his nose was touching it's binding, when a bully approached slapping the book from his hand. His father had to physically restrain Spider so he didn't go over there and kick the other kids ass.

Seeing Gunner and Ada was less eventful. The twins where 7 going on 8 at the time. Gunner was playing in a soccer game, Ada was on the side lines with her moms pretending she was a "witch princess" making a potion out of dirt, leaves, and rocks. Spider couldn't help but laugh at his little sister and cheer for his little brother every time he got the ball.

Quaritch and Spider go to spy on his sibling every couple of weeks.

Except in the summer. In the summer they go on a cross country road tip to stay in a cabin high up in the mountains. Spider loves the change in scenery but it still makes him a little sad. Because his father actually built the cabin himself for the entire family. So just like back home, there were three extra bedrooms, awaiting kids that would never live there.

I'm going to continued this in a part 2 so look out for that. Hope you enjoyed💞

[hyperfigations]

A Nightingale's Song: A Nice And Not-So-Accurate Season 3

Summary:

“How long are you going to brood today? Because we have about thirty minutes until I gotta close up shop,” A familiar voice pulled him from his thoughts. He hadn’t even noticed the coffee shop owner had sat down at his table. Crowley rolled his eyes from underneath dark lenses. “M’not brooding,” He mumbled, attempting to take a sip of his coffee without wincing at the bad taste it left in his mouth. Nina knew better, especially after having to put up with him for the past six months. She gave him a knowing look. “I’d say all liars go to hell but ya know,” ♡♡♡ Two months after Aziraphale had accepted the Metatron's offer, the Second Coming is finally put into motion. Aziraphale and Crowley must get over their personal issues to do what they do best: Stop Heaven and Hell from destroying Earth.

Prologue: The angels fall and Aziraphale makes a new friend on the Eastern Gate.

Word Count: 2,382

TW: None! I don't think! Let me know if there is though!

Author's Note: Hello! First fic in a year or so! So I am VERYYY rusty 😭 I apologize for that! And first Good Omens fic I've ever written! I'm pretty excited! I hope you like it!!

Also Disclaimer: This fic is just for entertainment purposes! I'm not really trying to predict Season 3 or anything, this is all just for fun!!!

Please enjoy! And if you have any constructive criticism, please let me know! I always aim to write better! Thank you!!

God had once said the days leading to the Sin of Eden had all been nice.

But God lied.

The day the angels had fallen was indeed not nice. Though many were ready for this two-day war to be over, the end was not what they had in mind. It was a sour, bitter victory. They had watched their Lord cast out their once dear friends from their home, the very home they had helped build. The crowds of angels who were just battling their brothers and sisters now stared blankly down from Heaven through the parted clouds. Grief and horror had not existed before that moment, but it was written all over their faces.

God was never thought of as being cruel, at least not in those first few days of the world being made. But it was hard to think of Her as anything else as She made a point to let all those who were left see the Fall. It was like She wanted them to know the cost of disobedience.

The sight of all those who opposed Her dropping from the sky was… well, it was terrifying. If there were humans on Earth -which at this point in time, there weren’t- they would look up at the sky and see one of the most beautiful meteor showers they had ever laid eyes on. But there weren't any people on Earth. Not yet. And what the angels saw was anything but beautiful. They did look like stars falling from the dark blanket of a sky, the last of their grace being stripped away by gravity as it pulled them downward. The soft glow of their holy light was now replaced with a raging fire that outlined their bodies.

The Fall felt slow. Agonizing. Many tried to fly back upward, begging for their Creator to help them like a crying child reaching toward their mother. But God hadn’t even flinched. She watched Her creations tumble downward with no remorse. Their white wings set ablaze with just a blink of Her eyes and from the heavens, they could hear them screaming.

The Fallen’s descent from their old home was broken by boiling pools of sulfur. Thousands of disobedient angels splashed into these pools, and the heat did not comfort their already burning bodies.

They were all sobbing, screaming out to God. God was listening, but She didn’t answer.

The Fallen climbed their way out of the thick liquid, not looking quite the same as they were. Their once clear skin was now riddled with scales or warts or anything deemed unholy. They had features that looked quite similar to the animal prototypes that were still in beta back in Heaven, and the love they had once felt from God Herself was gone. They were left feeling unloved, unholy, and ugly.

They wanted to go back home.

But one Fallen Angel, a little more determined than the others to crawl out of boiling black sulfur pits, made his way to the edge of the bubbling pool. He forced himself up and out, his dark auburn curls matted down with black-like tar. His robes were now darkened, his wings still ablaze. His soft eyes were now sharp and yellow and filled with malice. They were burning and wet, not just from tears but from the chemicals that forced its way through his lids. He didn’t know if he was staring at his maker. But he did know She was listening. He could feel Her listening to all of their suffering. That in itself made him more livid.

“Why,” he screamed to Her. And all the angels who stayed above could hear him clearly over the cries of the damned. One angel was more interested in listening than the others. The fluffy-haired cherub stepped forward to get a better view of the ripped-open earth below where the Fallen had landed.

“You’re punishing us? And for what? You made us like this! You gave us the freedom to ask questions! To choose! Why punish us for how you made us?! Why should we pay for your mistake?!”

The one angel in the crowd cringed, as he looked down through the clouds. It was dawn now and the sun, the very sun that was made by that particular fallen angel, was shining against the Fallen. And the exiled angels were far easier to see now. The fallen angel, glaring at God, had in fact been the angel he saw create gorgeous star systems and beautiful nebulas. He never did catch his name… Not that it matters now. But even so, his heart hurt for him. The cherub whose name is Aziraphale, admired how passionate he had been while cranking up the engine to start the universe. Oh, how his eyes shined brightly, almost mimicking the stars he had just created. But that angel questioned God… He denied Her plan. Even now, he was still asking questions. The very same kind of questions that had led him to be punished. So why did Aziraphale feel so bad for him?

To Aziraphale’s horror, he found himself wondering the same thing. She created them. She gifted them with freedom of choice, but when some angels exercised that freedom, they were punished. What was the point of giving someone the right to choose if they can’t choose? the angel found himself pondering, but then his eyes met with the being that was God, and his thoughts were replaced with terror. She was all-knowing. She could probably hear every single doubt that crossed his mind. He didn’t want to fall… Falling was horrible… It wasn’t too long ago when angels would look to God and feel a warm comfort. She was supposed to be a beacon of hope. But She was radiating anything but. It was clear from the authority on Her face now that She wanted to be feared. And She was feared.

Angels were terrified to even speak, lest they say something that would displease Her. Nobody - not even the mightiest of archangels- dared to speak up.

They all stared at Her in silence… A deep, tense silence.

God decided She was quite finished with the Fallen. She had made her point loud and clear to her children. With the wave of Her hand, God closed the clouds so no one could see the Fallen any longer. The screams had ceased. Well, the screams continued but they just couldn't be heard by the angels anymore. Her head turned to look at all Her remaining soldiers and smiled a sickening, sweet grin. She glanced at the angel who stood next to Her, and he nodded. His white wings spread wide, his voice carrying across what was once a battlefield, “We've already wasted too much time, don't you all think? Let’s get back to work.”

With that, God left them to do Her work. The Metatron, the mouthpiece of God, reminded the angels that She wouldn’t punish them if She hadn’t cared. That she loved all of them dearly. But the word love didn’t feel right. How was what they saw love? But Aziraphale shook his head, eager to be rid of the doubt that began to riddle his mind.

Who were they to question God?

Even if it was clear that Her love was one of her many lies.

♡♡

Aziraphale didn’t feel like he earned his promotion, but when the Supreme Archangel tells you that you’re no longer a cherub but a principality, then you don’t argue. You just nod, and ask what to do next. The past few days had been busy since then. He had been put in charge of God's special little place on Earth that they had settled on calling the Garden of Eden. He was to look after it, protect it from the Fallen Angels, who (according to the Metatron) were to be called demons now. Aziraphale didn't get why, to be honest. Why would the Fallen Angels… or "demons" want to hurt what they helped create. Then again, nothing made sense anymore. Everyone in Heaven used to be so sure of themselves; of their work. But nowadays, since the end of the Great Battle, everyone felt like they were walking on eggshells. As if any minute mistake would cause any of them to join their estranged peers down in Hell.

Aziraphale stood on the Eastern Gate, mindlessly playing with the flaming sword that was given to him. He was told to use said sword if anyone threatened Eden, but if he was being honest with himself, he didn’t know if he would ever use it. Not even on a demon. Even with the stories that Michael was telling the Cherubs about them, how evil they were. No, we wouldn’t dare… even so, he still held onto the sword dutifully, as if he would use it. He turned from the gigantic, beige dunes outside of the walls to look at the luscious, green beauty of God’s newest creation. Eden at the moment, was bountiful with hard-working angels, trying to get everything ready for tomorrow, which was going to be a big day, so they were told. Word upstairs was that God was ready to let loose Her newest invention: humans. This day was the day that all angels have been waiting for since God Herself presented the plan she had for Earth.

His face brightened slightly at the sight of some angels tending to the plants in the garden, laughing amongst themselves as they worked. For the first time in a few days, they seemed relaxed. Like they were Before.

It was nice.

A low hissing noise sounded near his feet. The principality let out an involuntary yelp, jumping back. His white wings spread above as if to make him seem bigger than whatever had startled him. His grip on the hilt of the sword tightened as he looked down at the end of his white robes only to see a long line of black and red scales. The angel’s eyes narrowed as he stepped forward to take a closer look. He was a bit surprised to see the black and red line staring straight back up at him, with gleaming yellow eyes. Aziraphale had seen prototypes back in Heaven of a creature like this, though at the moment the name of such a beast slipped his mind. He glanced down at the group of angels to see if they had heard him, but thank the Lord, they did not. How embarrassing would that be? To be frightened so easily by a creation of God? Aziraphale’s face flushed red, letting out a flustered giggle.

“Oh dear,” He said. “You gave me quite the scare.”He bent down, the bottom of his wings laying gently on the warm, gray stone of the wall behind him. He beamed bashfully at the beast, who was still watching him curiously. “What are you doing up here?” He asked, inquisitively. “I do rather think you’re supposed to be down in the garden with the other animals.” Aziraphale watched the beast as if it was supposed to answer him. “I suppose you’re just being curious. I don’t blame you, truthfully.” The angel stood up straight just to sit down on the edge of the wall, watching the others work once again, his legs dangling over the edge. The beast didn’t move, he still just watched the guardian. It almost carried a nervous energy to it and turned its attention to the flaming sword in his hand. Realization dawns upon the angel's face and without hesitation, he set the sword on his side away from the creature. "Oh no, don't worry, my dear," he whispered sweetly. "You're safe here." Aziraphale's face grew brighter as the beast slithered its way up next to him. It kept its golden eyes fixed on him, cautiously. "I bet all you creatures are very confused with what's going on down there," He told it. "Tomorrow is a big day. A happy one at that! Everything we've worked on… fought for will all be clear tomorrow." The beast gave him a look of doubt. Aziraphale could feel it wash over him, "Well… at least I hope it will be clear." He glanced at it, his lips creasing down on his face but quickly shook it off. "No, no. It will be. God has a plan, and we angels have the easy part. We just follow it." For the first time since it had got here, the beast stared away from the angel and out into the garden. It was thinking. "Well then," Aziraphale sighed, startling the beast out of its thoughts. It let out a small hiss, moving away from the angel as he scrambled up to his feet, snatching up the flaming sword on his way up. Aziraphale didn't pay any mind to the creature, it was obviously just afraid, and though he didn't understand why, he knew better than to pry into its business. Not that he could actually talk to it anyway. The other animals weren't up to conversation, and he assumed that this one wasn't any different. This one was different however in the way it did seem to respond. Maybe not in words but he could feel that it understood him. He'd never come across such a clever creature. "I should return to my duties before Archangel Gabriel catches me lounging around. You see, he doesn’t take kind to being lazy on the job. You should get back with the other animals, my dear." The beast glanced his way and then back at the garden, almost looking a bit hesitant to go in. Aziraphale waved his hands dismissively, "Not that I don't enjoy your company. Because I do! But I'm sure the angels down there will notice you gone, and everything must be in tip-top condition for tomorrow. So off you go!" The beast's forked tongue tested the air before it slipped its way down the stone and into Eden. The Guardian of the Eastern Gate grinned proudly to himself as if to say ‘Good job me! Making sure tomorrow goes as smoothly as possible!’ He now was ready (if not far more ready than before) to continue his duty of making sure no pesky demons make their way into the garden.

[ofstormsandfire]

9 & 10 for the ask game?

9: do you have any vague ideas for fics you might want to start in the future?

I have too many ideas for fics I might want to start in the future. all things considered I think my new years resolution is going to be to actually finish some of the ones I've already started.

send help. (or a fandom I'm into, if you want me to drop some actual ideas-)

10: how long have you been working on your current wip?

...which one. I have Multiple.

the main one at the moment is probably there's blood on your lies, a pokemon fanfic featuring cynthia punted a few hundred years into the past into the plot of pokemon legends arceus, which I've been working on since like... last? february? yeah according to ao3 that's when I posted the first chapter so. close enough. it's an absolute monster of a fic by multiple metrics.

the other fic I'm actively working on currently is called no one ever mentions fear, it was supposed to be my nanowrimo project, I hit 50k and wasn't done and I know from experience that if I just stop writing at the end of nano I just. won't ever bother to finish the fic.

that one's a fanfic for legend of zelda breath of the wild, in which I bonked my blorbo bird (blorbird, if you will) with the "amnesia," "character development," and "tragic backstory" sticks in no particular order. technically I only started writing that one at the beginning of november, but I was planning quite extensively for it during most of october, and it's a fic that I got the idea for a very long time ago and never actually wrote until much more recently.

I. am not actually sure exactly how long ago I got the idea for that fic, but I can tell you it has definitely been years. probably three. I remember thinking about it when I was visiting my stepfather and I haven't spoken to that man willingly in over a year, never mind set foot in the same state as him.

another wip I have, which I haven't done too much with in an embarrassingly long time but am co-writing with @thegreatandpowerfulversy, is a series of fics called Under a Broken Moon, which started when I realized that mantle in v7 of rwby in that first establishing shot really reminded me of warframe fortuna, and we consequently came up with backstories for rwby versions of all the fortuna characters, and from there it's just expanded into multiple main fics including such fun things like vox faunus in lieu of vox solaris, sienna khan cheating death with great glee, and the grineer causing Problems in vacuo.

that one, I can pinpoint when it started, because I still have the original prologue saved that never actually made it onto ao3. Vox Faunus was the first fic written in that series, back before I ended up bouncing so many ideas off of kira there that she eventually became an outright co-author. and that was originally written back in january of 2020.

anyway, those are the main wips I have at the moment, unless I'm forgetting something. I really hope I'm not forgetting something because three wips is a little much and I really, really want to get it down to two sooner rather than later.

girl help.

the relevant ask game, if you're curious?

[tugadork]

Currently Developing An Ambitious Frozen III Fan-Fiction

Writer's block for me has been a persistent curse for a very long time, but over the past week and a half, there have been all these ideas taking shape in my head regarding a Frozen fanfic that would explore a continuation from Frozen 2 in a massive way. Now, originally, I had planned to make it revolve around Hans and only Hans, to write what he's been up to since Frozen Fever, with the intent of fully exploring his character in-depth as well as develop some worldbuilding for the Southern Isles and the rest of his family.

But the more I thought about this concept (and how some fanfictions have already explored it, though unfortunately most of the ones I've read seem to have been abandoned), the more other ideas regarding the other characters started to form along with it. Coupled with major inspirations from other terrific Frozen fan-fictions I've read (ex. Haunted Arendelle 2 by GoldenHeart-Stories, Pierced Hearts by FFcrazy15, Cry Havoc by Miss Muse Clues, The Next Unknown by simplesnowflake, pretty much everything Frozen related @calenheniel writes and what @bubchie have developed so far with their Hans solo project), creative juices I didn't know I still had started to rise up with a fierce passion to instead take on the task of writing what I think could be an epic, solid fan-made conclusion to the Frozen movies thus rounding it up to a trilogy (at least if or until Disney decides to officially greenlight Frozen 3 or a Frozen TV series, I think everyone is sick of them milking Olaf by now lol).

Though by comparison to what Disney would theoretically put out, I intend it to be much darker and explore serious themes of insecurities, self-hatred, powerlessness and self-reflection, coupled with a heavy dose of fantasy and mystical elements to go along with them since they're very much part of Frozen's DNA. Plus some comedy along the way because by god will levity be needed.

To be honest, I'm not an experienced writer. In fact, quite the opposite. I've written a lot of unfinished fanfiction stuff (non-Frozen related) about a decade back, but other than that nothing of this size and English is not my native language so I'm self-conscious enough to realize that, yet still try to make this as good as I possibly can and learning along the way. Though suggestions, feedback and constructive criticism are always welcomed if possible. 👍

I will post it on my fanfiction.net account once I complete the prologue (and then start work on the first chapter). Might be a while until then depending on how it goes, but I don't want to rush anything and instead take the time I need to make sure it turns out great.

To anyone interested, here are some non-spoilery bullet points I've written down so far to help with the writing process (there are more, but those contain major spoilers so I'm gonna keep them locked up for the time being), as well as this logo I made for the fanfic:

- A big part of the story chronicles Hans' whereabouts after his actions in Arendelle. There will be some chronological time skips where you see what happens to him before Frozen 2, during, and then eventually after it. Frozen Fever is canon to this story as well since a crucial part of Hans' development happens in that timeframe.

- Anna and Kristoff's roles as the new ruling monarchs of Arendelle will be focused on, detailing the trials and tribulations they will go through while trying to adjust, Kristoff especially so. This is something I feel would be an organic continuation from Frozen 2's ending, especially since that movie didn't really foreshadow or give any concrete indication that any of them were fully prepared to be rulers.

- Anna will start to resent Elsa a little for putting her in this position without a long-term discussion first. (it always bothered me that Frozen 2 made it seem like she just dumped her responsibilities on Anna while going off to be the Fifth Spirit, the execution could have been miles better than it was imo. here though, it gives me a good opportunity to write some decent conflict and drama out of it)

- Olaf will continue to mature while still spouting some philosophical quips from time to time. Also a helping hand to Anna and Kristoff when possible and whenever he's not hanging out with Sven who's starting to miss spending time with Kristoff.

- A certain dilemma causes Elsa to start taking her role as the Fifth Spirit a tad too seriously, to the point where she stops appearing weekly in Arendelle for Family Game Night. This starts to cause a gradual rift between her and Anna, but her behavior also worries Yelena who tells her that she needs to find balance between her duty and her family, and reiterates that she should not sink too deep into the former.

- Worldbuilding for the Southern Isles and introducing Hans' family.

- Hans' actions in Arendelle will not be taken lightly. As much as I do like the character and would like to see him further explored in anything official Frozen related in the future (fat chance of that happening at this point though), I want to reiterate that I will not necessarily treat him as a misunderstood soul who was never evil. His backstory and the environment he grew up in will be shown and let you understand why he is the way he is, but what he did in Arendelle is still treated as deplorable and he'll face major consequences for it. Said actions will always hover over his head like a dark cloud throughout the story.

- Something dwells within the very murky depths of Ahtohallan.

- The Hans and Arendelle plotlines will eventually intertwine in a surprising way.

- Elsa. Will. Throw. Down. Boy do I plan to make her throw down. 8)

- There will be an inevitable reunion between Frohana and Hans, and it will go about as well as you'd expect.

- Further elements from Hans Christian Andersen’s The Snow Queen tale will be implemented and adapted in this story.

- Elsa will be tested physically and emotionally like she's never been tested before. There are a lot of important things at stake and it will take a journey inwards for her to finally overcome demons, both literal and metaphorical.

- Olaf and Hans will interact because I think it's a massive crime we haven't seen this yet. The comedic potential is limitless and I think everyone in the fandom can agree on that. 😂

[in-superbloom]

did you ever hear about the girl who got frozen? (a.i.)

right where you left me: prologue

pairing: ashton irwin x olivia jones (oc)

warnings: uhh a kinda grieving theme i guess? but no deaths. it has a sad tone overall, but nothing major (in this chapter hehe). foul language because i can't help myself. the tiniest mention of alcohol, but as a memory. think i should probably warn you that this contains a very sad ash. also not much dialogues. this is mainly for explanation and introduction, but very important for the story. if you find anything else that might be triggering, please let me know so i can add it here !!

author's note: oof okay. so. this is the prologue of a series very very dear to my heart that i've been working on for what it feels like my whole life but really it's been just a few months. but i'm in love with the story (which rarely happens with my own writing) so i hope you can enjoy it too !! this is also my very first time posting a fic since 2013 so pls keep that in mind <3 no i am not shaking as type this ofc not also: although i have the full story ready in my head, this is the only chapter that's written. i wanted to wait until i had at least a few ready before posting this but i'm too anxious for that lmao just saying this bc it will take a good while until i have any more chapters, so <3 (p.s.: i went over this thing a million times since may so if you find any errors pls look away, i'm not fixing this thing anymore. thanks <3)

another note: anna from the future here to say that i completely forgot about the playlist i made for the story lmao here it is in case you're interested k thanks bye <3

credits: title is from taylor swift's song right where you left me. model in the picture: paola locatelli. banner by me.

i also wanted to take a minute to thank some really nice friends that i've made here over these past few months & that i'm extremely grateful for @wastelandcth @suchalonelysunflower @littledrummerangie i cannot thank you babes enough for inspiring me the way that you do & for letting me yell about this to you && for encouraging me so much 🥺 i'll never be able to explain just how much this means to me, so i'll have to settle for saying thank you at any change that i can get <3 i love you all 💜 also gem my baby, thank you for the inspo with the banner 💚

@bluesdelis look babe i did it 😌 you know how grateful i am for you & for you letting me have a breakdown every week about my writing for the past 8 years so let's not dive into that or else i will write something bigger than this prologue jsjsjdjd love you 🖤

i hope you all have a good reading and a nice day ♡

let me know what are your thoughts about the fic ! ♡

word count: 4.1k

☆☆☆

Cold. That was the first thing that Olivia’s brain processed.

Still with her eyes closed, she buried herself more into the duvet, while her arm blindly reached for the furnace in human form that she calls boyfriend. However, as soon as her arm was only met with cold sheets, her eyes shot open.

Blinking the sleep away, she sat up on the bed, searching for the infamous red clock resting on Ashton’s bedside table that was supposed to look like a vintage alarm clock. Olivia had ordered it online at an auction website a couple of years back, as a gift for his 23rd birthday, since it was something he had mentioned multiple times prior that he was looking for, but still hadn't found. But when it finally came in (two weeks after the due date), it looked nothing like the picture she saw on the website. Feeling beyond frustrated, she wanted to send it back immediately and ask for a refund and maybe leave a not so polite review on the seller's page. But Ashton stopped her right away, laughing like the situation was absolutely hilarious to him, while saying, 'I like it, it’s quirky'. So, the clock stayed and found a home right next to him in their room.

Some days, however, she would wake up at some ungodly hour because of the blaring noise of the only ringtone the clock had. But whatever annoyance she could feel towards the object, it always vanished as soon as she felt Ashton's lips gently touching her face in a good morning kiss before he would get up to start his day, leaving her to catch some more hours of well deserved sleep.

As the furthest from a morning person as a touring musician could possibly be, Olivia had always feared that living under the same roof as Ashton would turn her into an early bird like him, but she's thankful that it never happened (not that he needs to know about that).

When she sees the red clock, she smiles at the sudden but welcome memories of them flooding her foggy brain, but frowns slightly when she realizes it reads 12:13 pm. Ashton rarely lets her sleep past 10 am.

Gathering all her strength and will, she rises up from the bed, smoothly picking up a grey wool sweatshirt from the chair (way too baggy on her slim body, but it smells like him), pulling it over her head and relishing on the soft material warming up her body. Making her way to the door and calmly going down the stairs, she can’t help but stop for a minute to admire the picture frames on their walls, one in particular catches her attention – probably one of the most prized pictures and memories they had. It felt older than it actually is, but it was around 4 years ago, she's sure – a little while after the two of them met. The picture was of their group of friends that still remains the same: Ashton and his best friend, Luke; Olivia, her best friend, Calum and their old hometown friend, turned into Calum’s new friend at college, turned into everyone’s friend, Michael; and her then newly band members, Suki, Eli and Ravi. Together, their group was the life of the party through all their college years, and it showed by the big smiles and drinks in hands they all had in the picture. It was a very special night, the first time Olivia’s little band played for the public – for a small audience sure, but it was a wonderful night nonetheless. What a long road it had been since that night.

Her nostalgic thoughts were interrupted by a shiver that went through her whole body, and it made her realize how oddly cold the whole house was, not only their bedroom. Which, granted, it was November in New York and the weather was just getting colder, but that’s exactly why Ashton always made sure to keep the house warm enough. As much as she loved the chilly season, the warm weather always reminded him of his hometown, and who was she to deny him that?

The smell of fresh made coffee could be sensed even before she reached the kitchen. Arriving there, the curly haired woman still found no signs of her boyfriend, so she went straight after the coffee maker pot sitting on the far left corner of the cream marble counter. Smiling softly at the tons of memories of Ashton's sleepy figure making their favorite beverage, she reached for a coffee mug on the cupboard on top of the counter and poured the remainder of the hot liquid on it (it's her favorite mug, if she must choose – it was a gift from a fan, and it had printed on it a collage of the pictures of her and Ashton that were posted on social media through their first year of relationship).

Moving to the glass doors that lead to the mini garden they cultivate, she didn't have to open them to spot the 6-feet-tall man sitting on a bench outside, looking oddly small in his oversized clothes, coffee mug tightly held between strong hands. Something about his figure made Olivia frown, however: he was staring with an unwavering look at her small but eye-catching pot of yellow daffodils that were almost as much of a pet to them as Stitch at this point. Sensing that there’s something definitely off about his semblance, she made a mental note to talk to him and find out what’s wrong later. So she goes back to the kitchen, knowing that he might need this quiet and private moment for himself.

She lost count of the minutes that went by (couldn't have been more than five) before she hears the garden's door opening and closing, and then his bare feet are dragging his brawny body to her. Except, he goes over to the sink, walking right through her, not showing any sign that he even saw her hunched figure over the counter table in the middle of the room.

Alright, someone's in a mood.

Olivia tries to swallow the annoyance already bubbling inside her – he knows how much she hates to be ignored, no matter how mad he might be – by trying to think of what she can say that won't piss him off. This is always a hard feat to accomplish when Ashton gets in these moods, but there’s a reason for them to work so well together.

“I missed my favorite body heater when I woke up,” she says in her best sweet voice, knowing how quickly his resolve crumbles when he hears that voice.

Still, no reaction.

That settles a worry at the pit of her stomach, because Ashton is never like this. Even when he's not in the mood to talk, he always gives some kind of reaction to her words; it doesn't matter how small, just enough to make her feel acknowledged.

When he's finished washing his mug and the few scattered dishes across the sink – she noticed that he already had lunch, if the lone plate in the drying rack is anything to go by –, he dries his hand in a towel, turns around and throws it on top of the same counter Olivia was leaning up against. Once again, he walks away not even sparing her a look.

Indignant, she leaves the now empty coffee mug on top of the table and follows him as he walks up the stairs, any determination to not aggravate his mood now well gone.

“Hey! In case you didn't notice, I'm right here. Whatever got you in this sour mood, I'm certainly not to blame, so can you stop being a child now and talk to me?!”

Ashton just keeps walking – more like sluggishly dragging his body – until he reaches their bedroom and suddenly stops just merely two feet inside the room, looking around with vacant eyes; like he was expecting to see something that wasn't there.

“Okay, that's really mature of you. Are you planning on ignoring me all day then?” Olivia questions exasperated, staring angrily at the back of his neck, where the condor tattoo lives – her favorite of his, but that sight doesn't bring her any peace today like it usually does.

Her glare only breaks when she hears the familiar sound of dog tags swaying on her right side. Shifting her gaze to the direction of the sound, Olivia notices Stitch, their small, black & white French bulldog – who she thought was outside in the garden – slowly trudging his way from around the bed until he stops at Ashton's feet, looking up at one of his humans with sad eyes. That realization only makes the worry in her stomach grow uncomfortably.

“Hi buddy,” Ashton's voice cracks a bit from the lack of use, but he smiles softly at the sweet dog, and crouches down to pet him.

Olivia can't help but gasp as she notices three things all at once that leave her overwhelmed: first, how she didn't even notice Stitch was in the room when she woke up – which never ever happens, in fact, most days he wakes her up whenever he deems her bedtime as finished and can't ever contain his excitement when she finally gets up; second, how the windows blinds are closed, which, again, rarely occurs under their roof, not if Ashton can help it. And third, how sad and melancholic the whole scene in front of her is – how sad and melancholic Ashton is. Pointless to say by now – that's also a very rare occasion.

A chill creeps up Olivia's spine, putting her body into high alert and also serving as a reminder of how everything looks out of place today. Trying to keep her head from spiraling down way too soon, she wraps her arms around herself and crouches down beside her two favorite boys, trying once more.

“Ash? Can you hear me?” even with her throat closing, she softly asks, purposefully putting her face in Ashton's point of view. Her only answer is the low whispers he's letting out to Stitch, while cradling the tiny dog in his arms, spreading gentle kisses on his head.

“I know, bud, I know. I miss her too,” is the only whisper she could understand and immediately wishes she hadn't. The weak wail that comes from Stitch's throat seems to fit perfectly with how the three of them feel.

Ashton then looks up and for a couple of seconds, and Olivia can swear he’s staring right into her eyes. But when he shows no reaction, she knows he’s just staring ahead and not at her, with that look that says there’s too much going on inside his head. She feels the urge to embrace him and get him to talk about whatever is on his mind, so they can share that weight like they always do, but when Ashton gets up from the ground and settles on the bed with Stitch, Olivia can physically feel the crack in her heart caused by the feeling she’s left with.

While Ashton is pulling the duvet over him and the dog, with clearly no intentions of getting up anytime soon, Olivia stands up on her feet with a new-found determination – she needs to figure out what the hell is going on.

This nightmare had to be just that, right? Nothing but a very vivid dream – she's had those before. Scary sure, but they always go away, and soon enough she's back into Ashton's arms, with Stitch jumping on the bed ready to lick their faces off. She just needs to wake herself up from whatever fucked up dream this is – right?

She's running down the stairs this time, frantically in search of something, of what exactly, she doesn’t know – but she knows she needs an answer. The more she looks for something, the more desperate she gets, not knowing what to look for. Then suddenly, something catches her eyes.

The white and blue calendar that's held up by magnets on the side of the fridge. She knows their calendar is red and yellow. They got it from their favorite flower market. Slowly, as if scared of what it might be there – “It's just a calendar, for fucks sake” – she approaches the damn thing. Upon inspection, she deems it as a normal calendar – she really doesn't know what she was expecting – until.

She knows what's wrong with it now.

It's November. She knows it, because the Asian and last leg of her first world tour is about to begin November 21st, eleven days from today. Right after Mike's birthday, she knows this.

Then why does the calendar say today is January 14th?

☆ ☆ ☆

Ashton woke up with a jolt. He quickly sat up, frightening the little Frenchie that was asleep right next to him on the bed. Trying to make sense of his surroundings, he roughly rubbed his face to get some sleep off of it and soon reached for the dog that was staring at him with sleepy but sad eyes. Ashton is sure Stitch understands far more than a dog is supposed to understand about their current situation.

The room is covered in shadows, almost pitch black, but he can see the sunlight even through the thick dark grey blinds covering up the windows. Ashton knows he won't be able to sleep again at that moment, so he gets up from the bed – much slower than he used to. His heartbeat is still out of control because of the nightmare that woke him up, but he can't bother to pay attention to it when Stitch is softly wailing beside him. Ashton lets out a ghost of a smile when the dog rests his head on his right upper thigh, looking up at him with an expression Ashton knows all too well.

“C'mon you little ravenous creature, let's feed you,” the bulldog excitedly jumps to the ground, already running his way down the stairs, not even waiting for Ashton to get up.

That gets a real smile out of him, but it vanishes as soon as he glances at the alarm clock on his bedside table. It reads 5:13 am, nothing out of the ordinary for him. But that small and inoffensive clock, with its red paint peeling off, holds a lot of memories for him. Memories that two months ago would bring joy to his heart, but now he almost wants to throw the object across the room.

It was a stupid thing, really. He had been wanting a vintage alarm clock and Olivia got one for his birthday. But the product they received was definitely not the one she bought, and if he's being honest, he didn't like it as much as he made out to. But seeing her so excited in the weeks before it arrived, and how disappointed she was when it did, he couldn't help but try his best to make her smile that luminous smile again. It's part of his nature by now.

That's also the reason why he lets her think that he doesn't notice when she wakes up at some ungodly hour (her words, not his) along with him, because of the annoying and only sound the alarm clock is able to produce. He always leaves soft kisses in every inch of bare skin he can find on her sleeping figure, so she goes back to the dream land and doesn't wake up before 10 am. No one wants to deal with that kind of bad humor, not even him.

As much as he likes being a morning person and absolutely enjoys her company in the mornings, he knows she'll take any and every extra hour of sleep she can get before starting the day. And that's why he loves that she's so stubborn that his early bird tendencies never got to her – he knows she feared that this would happen when they moved in together, but he met her like this, fell for her like this. He wouldn't change a single thing about her.

Ashton drags himself out of the bed, wincing slightly at how cold the wooden floors are under his bare feet. He doesn't bother putting some socks on, or a sweater – the cold weather in the house is uncharacteristically comforting to him. Nothing feels warm without her anyway.

While descending the stairs, he mentally curses himself for not being strong enough to look past the picture frames on the wall. One in particular catches his eyes – a picture from the night of Olivia's first concert with her band. The memories of that night are still painfully vivid in his mind: the laughter among their group that eventually infected everyone at the pub, Suki and Luke's first kiss and the silly smile that didn't leave his best friend's face all night, the standing ovation Olivia got after her three-songs set, and her captivating and breathtaking smile that made him realize right then and there, while watching her sway to the music, that he was definitely falling in love with her and there was nothing he could do to stop it – not that he wanted to.

So many memories held up on that wall, in the relatively short time since they met, that he can't help but wonder if that's all they'll get in this lifetime.

Ashton is abruptly taken out of his thoughts by Stitch's barks coming from the bottom of the stairs. He quickly jogs down the few steps left and goes straight after the dog's food in the kitchen's cabinet. After Stitch starts to happily devour his breakfast, Ashton goes to make his coffee, doing enough for two people like he always does, since Calum drops by most days for a chat or to drop Duke before going to work. Although all three of them know he just can't bother to make food for himself in the morning, while Ashton is the group's elected chef. Ashton always says he just needs a boyfriend – Olivia says Calum already has one who makes him breakfast every day.

He grabs an apple from the fridge and makes his way outside to their garden. Even though a lot of their memories took place there, the garden is the only space in the house where he doesn't feel like suffocating all the time. At least here, he can breathe some fresh air and look at the sky when he's feeling overwhelmed – which is basically all he's been doing for about a month now.

Yet, a lot of the garden has Olivia's name written all over.

He remembers vividly the day she came home after spending two weeks in LA doing some pocket shows, with a pack of daffodil seeds and the largest smile. She excitedly told him that a friend gifted it to her when she mentioned the little garden they were planning to build together at their new house. The friend told Olivia that daffodils symbolize rebirth and new beginnings, so as the good lover of symbolism that she is, Olivia loved the idea of having those flowers to symbolize their new beginning.

Ashton, on the other hand, wasn't a fan of the flowers at first – he just didn't see the appeal to them. But nonetheless, he indulged her, letting Olivia plant the seeds near the bench they used to sit during the quiet and unrushed afternoons, so they could admire the sunset, and she could happily look at the daffodils.

Pointless to say – the damn flowers grew on him.

Now, however, looking at them without Olivia and her contagious joy next to him, they were back to be as dull as they were before, if not more so.

Still lost inside his head without any sense of how much time went by since he sat down, Ashton doesn't hear the front door closing, and doesn't notice that he's no longer the only person inside the house until someone sits next to him on the bench. Yet, he doesn't show any sign of acknowledgement to them.

A few minutes go by before either of them speaks up.

“Luke said you didn't go to see her yesterday,” Calum starts softly, not wanting to disturb the calmness of the morning.

Ashton takes a few seconds to respond, “No point in doing that.” The black haired man licks his lips while thinking carefully about his next words.

“You know staying inside this house all day by yourself won't help either,” Calum turns his head to his left and takes a good look at Ashton's uncharacteristically hunched over figure, and immediately thinks that anyone can tell this man is not himself anymore. His second thought is that Olivia would hate seeing him like this.

“And what exactly do you expect me to do? Move on with my life like nothing happened? Like I'm not slowly and painfully losing the love of my life? Just because it’s easy for you doesn't mean it's easy for me.”

Calum closes his eyes and takes a deep breath. He knows Ashton doesn't mean it, it's the anger and frustration talking. He knows it. Doesn't make it sting any less.

“I'm not telling you to move on with your life, because that's far from what I'm doing, and I certainly don't expect you to do it. I'm just saying you need to occupy your mind or else–”

“I'll go insane? Think it's a bit too late for that,” Ashton interrupts with a bitter tone that doesn't belong to his usual chirpy voice.

“You know it's not,” Calum sighs and drinks the rest of his coffee, moving his body slightly, so he's facing the blonde man, “I got a job interview for you at that school you talked about so much last summer, the principal said you can go any day this week. I went ahead and sent her your resume as well as explained everything that she needs to know about Olivia, so you don't have to. You just gotta put on some decent clothes and show up.” he sees Ashton's face softening a little and takes it as a victory. A few beats go by and then, “Maybe take a shower too. That's gonna make you feel better.” Calum leans in closer to his friend's personal space and takes a sniff, causing Ashton to deflect from him slightly, but not to push him away – another small win.

“Definitely take a shower, you stink. When was the last time your hair saw shampoo?”

“Fuck off,” is Ashton's only reply to the younger man's inquest. But Calum can see a smile creeping up on the blonde's face, which brings out a smile of his own.

“I'll send you all the details later today,” he checks the hour on the watch on his wrist and gets up, “Just please, Ash, go. I can't lose you too.”

Calum gently lays a hand on Ashton's shoulder and squeezes a little. The man doesn't look up, but gives a curt nod to his friend, who's satisfied enough. Calum stops on the threshold of the garden glass doors to give some kisses to Stitch – who came to make Ashton company as soon as he finished his food –, and then he puts the coffee mug on the dishwater. And soon enough, he's on his way out of the door. But not before snatching a tangerine from the fridge.

Ashton is left by himself once again. As he hears the sound of the front door closing, he thinks that this might be his life from now on. Just him and Stitch, trying their hardest to make it through another miserable day without the love of their lives. While everyone else comes by just to make sure he's still breathing. Breathing, maybe, but alive?

Swallowing the tears, he looks up at the sky. It's a deep, beautiful mix of orange, pink and blue, but he knows that it won't last long and soon the rain will be pouring down. He thinks about how much Olivia loves the rain.

God, he needs to pull himself together. She would hate to see him like this. Maybe he should take Calum's offer after all, he really needs to occupy his mind.

Making a mental note to thank Calum later, and also to apologize for how rude he was to him this morning, Ashton slowly gets up from the bench to put his mug on the sink and makes his way to the living room, with the small dog loyally following his every step. He puts on some cartoon that for once doesn't remind him of her (she always lovingly made fun of him for still watching those) and cuddles with Stitch on the couch. He can take a shower later.

Not half an hour goes by, he falls asleep and has a good dream for a change. He dreams of the days he spent with Olivia in the Philippines last February, right before her first world tour started. Some of the most magical days of their lives – surrounded by delicious food, a whole new culture to learn about and the warmth of the sun. Infinite counted days full of love and passion, where they were the only people in the world.

Even his subconscious knows to hold on to that brief moment of happiness, because he might never live that again.

[ofstormsandwolves]

#1 for writing asks :)

1) Tell us about your current project(s)  – what’s it about, how’s progress, what do you love most about it?

Oof, I have a few. 😂 I'm gonna focus on the ones that haven't yet been put up online at all. (I actually had to go and have a look in my files because there are so many I can't even remember). These are all Buffy because most of my other stories for other fandoms are ongoing stories I'm already partway through posting.

Buffy comics AU #1- In this universe, Buffy was raised and trained by Jenny and Anya as her Watchers. Giles refused to become a Watcher, but still wound up on the Hellmouth as a history teacher, leading to him training Willow and Xander to fight after students started going missing. Cordelia and Gunn run Chase and Gunn Investigations in L.A, but start to notice a worrying number of calls coming from Sunnydale.

This is one I've been working on/ batting around for a while and was one of a number of ideas I threw out on tumblr to see if people were interested. Mostly I'm just super excited about the different dynamics, particularly as it's set in a kind of AU s4/s5 so the Scoobies are all in their late teens and already out of high school. The first chapter is done, but it hasn't gone up yet because I can't think of a damn title for it.

Buffy comics AU #2- Willow as the Slayer who has just moved to Sunnydale, and meets Xander and Buffy who have spent much of their lives on the Hellmouth.

Ok, so I started this not long after Hellmouth came out because I loved the idea of switching up roles in the Scoobies and seeing how that changed group dynamics, but I somehow initially missed that they were out of high school because Buffy was working at a bar. So this is set during high school because 1) I like what I'd already written and 2) it's taken so long to write that 'The Vampire Slayer' comics are coming out and rendering my stuff obsolete, so I'm now just going full AU and enjoying it. Expect some awkward Giles and Buffy scenes as he is under no obligation to tutor this random kid who is totally flunking history, and some interesting Willow and Xander interactions as they actually have to get to know each other.

As-yet-untitled s6 AU- When Buffy returns from the dead, thanks to her friends, she finds that life really isn't how she left it. During her five-month absence, Giles and Jenny's son has been born and Buffy is left to wonder where exactly she fits in to this new dynamic.

This came about in part due to a conversation with @dreadfulcalendarwoman regarding Buffy and Giles and their dynamic. Jenny is inexplicably alive because I said so. Joyce is dead, Dawn's around. Buffy tries to figure out where she fits in not only with her friends wanting her to just bounce back from what's happened, but also with being 'replaced' in Giles's life by a new, actually-related-to-him-and-legitimately-his-kid kid.

Take me back to the start- Following season 6, Giles recuperates in Devon and starts to question how he has handled the Scoobies over the years. Between Willow's struggles with magic, Xander's insecurities that led to him leaving Anya, and Buffy's struggles with adulthood and slayer-work balance, he comes to a decision. He needs to put things right, and should have done things differently from the start. Cue Giles asking the Coven for help throwing him back into his season 1 body so he can approach the situation differently and guide the children better. Only problem is, he hadn't factored in that getting a second chance with the children also means a second chance with a certain dark-haired technopagan...

Originally intended to be part of a group of fics I wrote about various Scoobies making a wish without realising it (with the first fic being the Make a Wish stories), I realised that it made more sense for Giles to actually choose to do it, so this became a time-travel fic instead. I'm still working on the prologue and haven't yet gotten to the season 1 stuff, but I've already got some interesting stuff lined up for character interaction.

To Start Again- Third in the 'Make a Wish' verse, Buffy goes to college, Giles and Jenny try to figure out their relationship, and the Initiative lurks under the UC Sunnydale campus.

I've got the first chapter and a half written, and pretty much everything planned out, it's more a case of actually WRITING it. I'm pretty damn excited about some stuff I have planned, though, because I've been setting the groundwork for certain things that will come out in this story, plus I've changed some stuff around in terms of plot and am not sticking quite as close to the episodes as I did in the second story.

ask me writer questions!

[commander-diomika]

For the rqg asks 1, 5, 7, 9, 14, 16 (I know you write a lot for the show and I absolutely adore all of what you do but what are you most proud of?) 19?

1. What is that one moment from the show that you will find yourself thinking back to, intermittently, for years to come?

Grizzop's death and afterlife. I listened to the show out of order, jumped in with my partner toward the tail end of the Damascus Arc and when Grizzop took those hit points for Sasha and went down, I shed some genuine tears and again at his epilogue. That was the point where I decided to go back to listen from the beginning and I was truly lost.

5. Pick a character and make a prediction for their epilogue.

Barnes Carter and Cel are going to move to a cabin by the seaside and live their best non monogamous monster fucking lives. (we didn't see REALISTIC predictions for the finale.)

7. What is something you do not at all think will happen in the finale, but is just fun to daydream about?

HONESTLY all the things that I had been daydreaming about have already come to pass: Aphophis turning up with the steel chair, Amelia and the Vengeance getting their smash on Guivres (I still don't know how to fkn spell it), the rest of the NPCs turning up to help!! Like!! This is what narrative satisfaction feels like!

So LBR the thing that I don't think will happen in the finale but is very fun to daydream about is both Zolf and Wilde making it out alive to their soft epilogue because Ben and Alex are gunning for that tragedy.

9. Which was your favourite arc and why?

The Mr Ceiling and Unreality arc in Paris. It's really the first moment in the show where the lid PROPERLY blows off in terms of how steampunk and science fiction this story is despite being set in the Pathfinder/fantasy world, and even though it seemed clear the party was in a fantasy pretty quickly, I am still a sucker for simulation/unreality stories, especially where characters are forced to go back and do the hard thing instead of staying in a blissful illusion.

14. What’s a detail of the show that you always forgot, and when you’re reminded of it it always comes as a shock?

Aziza's death. The fact that Alex did that felt... almost too much. I really hope it was something that was discussed with players but especially Bryn beforehand, because that level of RPing tragedy and grief isn't something that you want to spring on players, and it has the potential to really veer the character off in a new direction in a way that the player doesn't have a lot of agency over.

16. If you’ve ever created fan content for the show, which piece are you most proud of?

THIS IS SUCH A HARD QUESTION AND LIKE MAKING ME PICK MY FAVOURITE CHILD!!! Like I think there's something good about almost everything that I've written for RQG, from the longer-form Strange Company stuff to the oneshots I did for Kinktober. BUT if I have to choose I suppose I would say I'm probably most proud of the most recent installment of Strange Company (It Takes a Great Deal of Courage) because writing the love confessions and culmination of a slowburn is really hard, because you've got the weight of the 20k build up behind it, and doing that justice took a lot of wrangling. I've still got more SC to go, but unfortunately I have missed my initial goal of finishing ti before the series ended. Hopefully the finale doesn't break my heart so badly that I can't keep going with it.

19. Can you try to put into words the crushing nostalgia you now feel when you think back to the prologue episodes, and how you felt listening to them for the first time vs how that would feel now?

I don't carry the weight of crushing nostalgia that some of you might because I foolishly only got into RQG about six months ago! I pounded through all the content within a couple of months and then started in on shovelling fan fiction in my mouth as fast as I could. And whilst listening back definitely makes my heart hurt in a delicate and aching way, I don't have the 6 years worth of feelings that I know some of y'all are currently going through. My life had also changed a lot in the last six months tho (went from studying to new job, Covid tumultuous times, gender and hormone times). So weirdly when I think back to listening to the starting eps I think about me and how much I've changed and ploughed ahead, and how grateful I am that this show and the community around it has inspired me to get back into writing for the first time in years.

[spicycreativity]

Fanfic Appreciation Week Day 7: A Place Where I Can Breathe

Yes, folks, I'm appreciating my own darn fanfic for the final day of Fanfic Appreciation Week because I worked really hard on it and it was a labor of love for/with one of my QPPs, my roommate, the man who got me into Sanders Sides: @\cadeorade-powercade (That's him in the aesthetic board)

Allow me to present the director's commentary for A Place Where I Can Breathe:

Content Warnings: All content warnings mentioned in the fic apply.

Chapter 1: I actually wrote this fairly late in the game. It's meant to serve as a prologue and orient the viewer in the universe, s opposed to staring on Chapter 2, which just throws the viewer in without context. I think it was a good choice, as it also allowed me to introduce the concept of the Sides having power focuses early on.

The Premise: Cade is a Virgil stan and he was getting frustrated looking for Virgil fic. He was finding a lot of stuff written without nuance by young authors, a sort of "by teenagers for teenagers" type deal. We are not teenagers, so we both have a hard time relating to that kind of teen angst fic, as we're not the target audience. So he asked me to write him a Virgil fic and we worked together to identify what plot he wanted, what the Mindscape looked like, and what quirks the Sides have. So a lot of this fic is quite gratuitous and self-indulgent

The Title: Lizzie McAlpine has a song called "Apple Pie" which includes the lyric "I've been running around trying to find a place where I can breathe." Apple Pie SCREAMS Moceit to me, and I had taken notice of the lyric and wanted to use it as the title for a Moceit fic. I didn't really have an idea beyond that, and when Cade asked me to write this fic, I realized it was actually perfect and summed up Virgil's inner struggle quite nicely. So cheers to "A Place Where I Can Breathe," the Moceit Fic That Wasn't

-Cade asked me specifically to include Virgil having a spider and I wrote nearly the whole fic without doing so, then had to go back and sprinkle some references in. I think I managed 2 total.

Chapter 2:

"Uh, how about I hold off on that until I actually see my room?" Virgil stared expectantly at Roman, who bounced on his toes. "Lead on, Macduff."

"That's not the line and you know it," Roman complained, but he turned to lead Virgil to his room. "It's ' lay on, Macduff,' and--"

-This fic was originally supposed to reach a climax with a confrontation between Remus and Roman, and "lay on, Macduff" would come back as a brick joke. Unfortunately, the original ending was a result of me getting tired and lazy, so I had to go back and fix it, and we lost the Roman-Remus confrontation.

It was hard for Virgil to not shudder at the sudden heat and weight on him. With his senses already open and taking in more information than his brain seemed to want to process, touch was an added stressor, more unwanted sensory input.

-Virgil being touch-averse is a direct shoutout to Cade, who is also touch-averse.

Roman had already transformed the living room: metallic streamers of purple and black stretched across the corners of the ceiling, and shiny balloons spelling out A-N-X-E-I-T-Y hovered above the TV.

-Upon first writing, Virgil had already given the upstairs crew his name, so the banner spelled out "VIRIGL" which is way funnier than "ANXEITY." But then his name reveal became a plot point so I had to go back and change it.

-Let! Virgil! Be! Mean!

-Virgil's line about hearing refrigerator noise when Roman talks is another shout-out to Cade, who has leveled that accusation at me

A small, cruel part of him protested at the idea that he would need special treatment and desperately wanted to throw it back in Patton's face. He wasn't a sweetheart, he wasn't a baby. He didn't need to crawl into a blanket fort with Dad just because he was a little stressed.

-Remus calls Janus "Janus Geminus" because I was tired and couldn't come up with a pun. "Geminus" is one of the Roman god Janus' epithets; another is "Pater" meaning "Father." That led to a conversation about Remus deliberately confusing Patton by calling Janus "Daddy," but I couldn't think of a clean way to fit the explanation into the narrative, so I stuck with "Geminus."

Chapter 3:

"There's nothing normal about that! " Roman stared in horror at the coffee massacre Virgil had orchestrated. What had once been a respectable (if not very tasty) cup of black coffee was now part of a 1:1 coffee to milk suspension, the liquid a tasteful shade of tan suitable for business casual trousers or a show-ready chihuahua.

-Cade is a certified Nightmare Man and came up with Virgil's horrifying coffee order after I asked him about it. Keep an eye out for Janus' equally horrifying coffee order later in the fic.

1) Shouts out the fact that Janus is canonically a Dostoevsky fan

Chapter 4:

Janus smiled at him. "Where reason fails, the Devil helps." He fussed with his gloves and straightened his capelet. "It's showtime."

-I fucking love Crime and Punishment. Look at me. Look at me. I fucking love Crime and Punishment. Janus' quoting Raskolnikov serves multiple purposes:

2) Lampshades the fact that Roman just conveniently happened to be alone in the living room, because I didn't want to waste time getting him there. That makes me, the author, the Devil

3) Foreshadows the impending disaster. When Raskolnikov says this line it is because he had planned to commit axe murder. The axe he was planning to steal had been moved, but he finds another, different axe to use. Raskolnikov messes up the murder and ends up killing an innocent witness in addition to his intended target. Janus messes up his manipulation attempt and ends up murdering Roman's self esteem

-I was going to include a reference to Rosencrantz and Guildenstern Are Dead (Remus' line "debauchery and vomit" was originally going to be "blood, love, and rhetoric") but I didn't because... Uh... Hm. Why didn't I do that. Maybe I just forgot about it???

-Roman is too stubborn to manipulate for long and that is a fact.

"I was pretty much done anyway," Remus said. "There's only so much debauchery and vomit you can fit into one story."

-Cade specifically ask me that nobody cry in this fic, but after I had Janus eviscerate Roman I knew he couldn't not cry a little. I kept it to a minimum because there's already a billion fucking fics about [literally any Side] crying on the shoulder of [literally any other Side] and it's really just not interesting to either of us.

-It didn't come up because it doesn't matter, but Thomas dreamed he was participating in the exact Dionysian orgy that took place in The Secret History because it's my fic and I said so.

Chapter 5:

He just sat back and watched and tugged at his hair while Janus spooned mound after mound of crisp white sugar into his mug and Virgil poured his customary eight fluid ounces of milk into his own mug.

-Cade strikes again. Virgil's coffee order is equal amounts milk to coffee; Janus' is equal parts sugar to coffee. He had asked me to include a scene where Roman catches Janus massacring his coffee and is appropriately horrified, but I uhh... Didn't write it. I still might include it as an omake someday.

-I imagine that Roman feels really strongly about dragons vs wyverns, and Remus just pretends to give a shit because he thinks it's funny to wind Roman up. Fortunately for me but unfortunately for my sense of realism in writing, I can't relate because I adore my sister and we get along perfectly almost 100% of the time.

"You shut us down every chance you get!" Remus said, baring his teeth. "How would you like it if your pens never wrote, hm? What would you do with all those thoughts in your head?"

-I do wish I had developed the concept of power focuses a bit more, established rules and such. Basically, Patton is always on the prowl for wrongthink and actively represses it, which in turn breaks or sabotages the Dark Sides' power focus.

Chapter 6: This chapter really should have been Janus and Roman but I was really tired and didn't want to bother with it. Plus, you know, Moceit. This chapter was meant to demonstrate how the characters would get along without Virgil nannying them. There's friction, but everyone is making a conscious, deliberate effort to get along because they love Virgil, and love is a series of choices you make.

I chose "Leo" as the answer for the answer to the crossword clue instead of "Virgo," because my other QPP is a Leo. She'll never read this fic, but I did it anyway because I love her. (Trivia: My sign is Virgo, so it was really a choice between shouting her out and shouting me out, and the last chapter is self-indulgent enough, thank you).

Chapter 7: I was gonna write a fic where all the Sides watched Cats the Musical because I was going through a phase. Then Cade requested this so I combined the two ideas. By this point I was fucking exhausted, and that's the only thing that saved you and the rest of the world from me writing the Sides riffing on the movie scene-by-scene. I could come up with snarky commentary for almost every, if not every single song from the movie.

Most notably, I cut a Patton-Remus interaction where Remus declares his love for Grizabella and Patton gets all staryy-eyed about Remus connecting with the idea of rising above rejection and being loved and accepted only for Remus to shoot him down and explain that he just likes that she got to die in a tire fire.

Other cut scenes include Janus quietly pretending not to go feral over Mister Mistoffelees, Patton full-on fucking sobbing over Grizabella and the kittens, and Logan experiencing a deep, soulful kinship with Munkustrap during Of The Awefull Battle of the Pekes and the Pollices (and henceforth introducing the phrase "like herding cats" into his regular vocabulary