#this is vaguely connected to a fanfic I have yet to write

[seraph-sar]

My first time drawing a full Sora in his canon outfit! Depicting more or less what I imagine him moving towards Unreality at the end of KH3 to look like.

[amethystarachnid]

OPPOSITES - part I

⤷ JAMES B. “BUCKY” BARNES

ᯓ★ Pairing: James B. “Bucky” Barnes x fem!reader

ᯓ★ Genre: romance, fluff, tiny bit of angst

ᯓ★ Request from: MARVEL multiverse

ᯓ★ Story type: short fanfic

ᯓ★ Part II

ᯓ★ Word count: 6.5k

ᯓ★ Summary: you were raised with strict rules, never once dared to break one of them but the mysterious man you meet at the bar maybe deserves a few rules break.

ᯓ★ TW(s): mentions of alcohol

ᯓ★ AU: 1920s Gangstares

ᯓ★ Request: plz i neeeeeeeed the 1920s one i’ve been binging peaky blinders ( @one-lengthiness36 )

ᯓ★ Since request didn't spicy reader's gender I'll write it as a fem!reader, as I've said in the post

ᯓ★ Comment if you want to be added to the taglist (specify if you want the everything taglist or for a specific character)

ᯓ★ Songs & Superheroes tales - The Game (to make a request, follow the rules on the link!)

ᯓ★ MARVEL Bingo (requests open)

ᯓ★ Masterlist

ᯓ★ If you are a Charles Xavier fan click on this link!

ᯓ★ English isn’t my first language and this isn’t proof read

The Jazz Club pulses with life on a humid Friday night, filled with the muted glint of candle-lit chandeliers and shadows that dance to the lively notes of a trumpet solo. The place is alive, but you feel like you’re not quite part of it, like you’re watching through glass. You smooth the soft folds of your dress—borrowed from your friend Anna, who insists that it’s the only suitable thing to wear in a place like this—and tuck a stray curl behind your ear, feeling more out of place than you ever have. The excitement and energy around you only seem to emphasize your own nerves.

When Anna and Lucy had insisted on bringing you here tonight, the “exclusive bar everyone’s talking about,” you’d hesitated. You’d been raised on rules, boundaries, and curfews. Late nights and smokey speakeasies had never been on the approved list. But the moment you’d stepped in here, breathing in the heady scent of bourbon, old wood, and something vaguely illicit, a part of you couldn’t deny the thrill that’s begun to buzz under your skin. You’re in a different world here, and your friends seem to thrive in it.

The club, “The Silver Swan,” has a reputation, and you’d heard the whispers about its owner: a shadowy figure with connections that aren’t exactly above board. Rumors say he’s dangerous, a man who rose through the ranks with a rough, unbreakable resolve. And yet, something about those stories only makes this place more thrilling, as if the Silver Swan is something of a forbidden fruit.

You catch a glimpse of yourself in the mirror behind the bar, looking wide-eyed and uncertain, the fabric of your dress reflecting the dim light in a way that makes you look more like a stranger than yourself. The low, smoky lights give everyone a sort of glamour, making the crowd seem less like people and more like characters from some gripping novel. A soft laugh tumbles from Anna’s lips, and she nudges you, arching an eyebrow.

“See, aren’t you glad you came?” she teases, her voice barely audible over the music. She’s right—you do feel a strange, exhilarating freedom here, your usual reservations fading into the back of your mind.

But then you feel it—eyes on you, unmistakable and intense. A shiver runs down your spine, and you glance around, suddenly alert. Your gaze lands on a man sitting at the edge of the room, half-hidden in the shadows. His eyes are piercing, almost predatory, watching you with a focus that makes you want to look away and stare back all at once.

The man is handsome in a way that’s almost unfair, with dark hair swept back neatly, a sharply cut jaw, and broad shoulders beneath a crisp suit. He’s lounging in a seat like it belongs to him, exuding a confidence that makes your heart stammer. Something about him is familiar, but you really can't seem to remember where you already saw him.

And right now, he’s looking at you like you’re the only person in the room.

You look away quickly, feeling your face flush, but his gaze is unrelenting. It’s like he’s assessing you, taking in every detail. Even from across the room, the heat of his stare is enough to make you feel exposed, vulnerable in a way that has nothing to do with your dress. Your friends are too busy chatting to notice, and part of you wants to tell them, but another part—one you barely recognize—likes the thrill of keeping it to yourself.

Slowly, almost deliberately, Bucky stands up. He moves with a grace that’s startling for a man of his size, all smooth lines and careful steps. The room shifts around him as people notice, some going silent, others nodding in deference. You try to look away, to pretend you haven’t noticed, but it’s impossible not to track his progress. Your heart beats faster with every step he takes in your direction, a drumbeat echoing louder in your ears as he comes closer.

When he finally reaches you, he stops, tilting his head and giving you the kind of smile that should be illegal in a place like this. He has a magnetism that’s undeniable, as if he could pull you in without a word.

“Good evening,” he says, his voice a low rumble that seems to settle over you. The accent’s faint, a New York drawl that somehow makes every word sound like a promise.

You swallow, trying to steady yourself. “Good evening.”

Up close, he’s even more striking. The lines of his face are sharp, softened only by the faintest of smirks that hovers at the corner of his mouth. His eyes, a shade of blue so intense it’s almost unreal, seem to see right through you. But there’s something else in them too, a flicker of curiosity, as if he’s just as intrigued by you as you are by him.

“Bucky Barnes,” he introduces himself, extending a hand. His fingers are gloved, the leather cool and smooth against your palm. “And who might you be, sweetheart?”

The endearment catches you off guard, and you struggle to remember your own name for a second. “Y/N,” you manage, your voice barely above a whisper. “I—um—I don’t usually come to places like this.”

His smile widens slightly, a flash of white teeth that’s as dangerous as it is charming. “That much is obvious,” he says, his gaze dropping briefly to your dress, then back up to meet your eyes. “But I’d say you’re fitting in just fine.”

Your cheeks heat up again, and you find yourself at a loss for words. It’s disconcerting how effortlessly he seems to get under your skin, making you feel as though he knows things about you that you don’t even know yourself. The bar seems to fade away, leaving just the two of you, caught in a bubble of heady tension.

“Can I get you a drink?” he asks, breaking the silence. He gestures to the bartender, who looks over immediately, waiting for Bucky’s order with a kind of nervous deference.

You hesitate, then nod. “Yes, please.”

Without looking away from you, Bucky nods to the bartender. “A glass of champagne for the lady.”

The drink appears almost immediately, and you accept it, your fingers brushing against his gloved hand. The touch is brief, but it sends a jolt through you, making you feel both exhilarated and unnerved. You take a small sip, hoping it’ll calm your nerves, but his presence is overwhelming, making it difficult to think clearly.

“So, Y/N,” he says, leaning a bit closer, his voice a seductive whisper, “what brings you to my little corner of the city?”

His little corner of the city. The way he says it is almost proprietary, as though he truly owns every inch of this place, every beat of the music, every glass of liquor poured.

“My friends,” you say, gesturing vaguely to Anna and Lucy, who are engrossed in conversation with each other. “They… they thought it was time I had a bit of fun.”

He chuckles, a rich, low sound that makes your pulse quicken. “And are you having fun, doll?”

The question catches you off guard, and you meet his gaze again, caught by the intensity of it. The truth is, you are. Despite your nerves, despite the fact that you feel completely out of your element, there’s something exhilarating about being here, talking to him.

“I think so,” you admit, a smile tugging at your lips. “Though I’m not entirely sure what I’m supposed to be doing.”

Bucky’s eyes light up with amusement, and he leans in a bit closer, his voice a low murmur. “Well, sweetheart, maybe I could help you with that.”

The suggestion hangs in the air between you, charged with a promise that sends your heart racing. You’re not entirely sure what he means, but the thrill of it, the idea of letting him show you something unknown, is intoxicating.

“Would you like to dance?” he asks, and his voice is so soft that it almost feels like a secret.

“Yes,” you reply before you can second-guess yourself.

Bucky leads you onto the dance floor, his hand firm and possessive against your back, and you can feel the curious stares of the other patrons as he holds you close. He’s surprisingly graceful, moving with a practiced ease that makes it easy for you to follow his lead. The world seems to melt away, leaving just the two of you, swaying to the rhythm of the music.

The song is slow, sultry, and Bucky’s hands are warm through the thin fabric of your dress, guiding you effortlessly. He keeps his gaze on you, unwavering, as though he’s studying every reaction, every flicker of emotion on your face.

“Tell me something, Y/N,” he murmurs, his lips close to your ear. “Do you always let strangers sweep you off your feet?”

You can feel his breath against your skin, and it sends a shiver down your spine. “No,” you say softly, meeting his gaze. “I don’t… I don’t usually do things like this.”

He smirks, clearly pleased by your admission. “Good,” he says, his voice a low rumble. “Because I’m not interested in being just anyone to you.”

The words leave you breathless, caught in his intensity. There’s something about him that’s both dangerous and magnetic, and you can feel yourself

being pulled in, the thrill of his attention washing over you.

As the music fades, he doesn’t let go, his gaze darkening as he studies you. “Y/N,” he murmurs, his hand tightening slightly on your waist. “I’d like to see you again.”

You’re not sure if it’s the champagne, the music, or the heady warmth of his gaze, but you find yourself nodding, your heart racing as you meet his gaze. “I’d… I’d like that too.”

He smiles, and there’s something possessive in it, a promise of things you can’t even begin to imagine. As he guides you off the dance floor, you can feel the eyes of the crowd on you, but for the first time, you don’t care. You’re captivated, ensnared, and in that moment, you realize that stepping into this bar has changed everything.

Two nights have passed since you met him, and you can’t shake the memory of the man with the dangerous smile and the piercing blue eyes. It feels almost ridiculous how one night could stick with you like this, lingering in your mind like a melody you can’t quite shake. His voice, low and confident, keeps playing back in your head, making you feel things you barely understand.

It’s just that he was… so different from anyone you’ve ever met. Mysterious, maybe a little bit dangerous, though you can’t say exactly why. He was a stranger, yes, but you can’t help but feel there was something there—something that makes you want to know more.

Tonight, you find yourself standing outside The Silver Swan, the same bar where it all began. Your heart thuds in your chest as you glance at the door, nerves warring with the thrill of seeing him again. You’d told yourself that coming back was silly, that you didn’t even know if he’d be here. But in the end, your curiosity had won out over reason, and here you are, alone this time, without your friends to distract you.

Steeling yourself, you step inside. The place feels both familiar and surreal, as though returning to a dream. The low lights, the smoky haze, the soft murmur of laughter—it’s all just as you remember. Except, this time, you feel different, like you’re here for something specific. Or someone.

Your eyes scan the room, searching. At first, you don’t see him, and a pang of disappointment settles in your chest. But then, across the room, there he is, sitting in that same dark corner, half-obscured by shadows. He’s alone, nursing a drink, his gaze resting on the crowd in a way that seems watchful, attentive. He’s so focused that you almost turn around, almost lose your nerve. But he catches your movement, his gaze locking onto you with an intensity that makes your breath hitch.

And just like the first night, he smiles—a lazy, inviting smile that makes your stomach flip.

You take a steadying breath and walk toward him, feeling as though every step is pulling you deeper into something you don’t entirely understand. When you reach him, he stands, his eyes crinkling with amusement as he looks at you.

“Well, well,” he drawls, his voice every bit as smooth as you remember. “Back again, doll?”

You swallow, trying to keep your voice steady. “I… you didn’t tell me your name. I didn’t know where else to look.”

It’s a flimsy excuse, and you know it. The corners of his mouth twitch as if he’s fighting back a laugh, but he’s too much of a gentleman to let it show.

“Didn’t I?” he asks, feigning surprise. “Must have slipped my mind.”

You raise an eyebrow, catching onto the teasing edge in his tone, and he chuckles softly. It’s a warm sound, richer than you remember, and it puts you a little more at ease.

“James Barnes,” he says finally, extending a gloved hand to you. “Though everyone just calls me Bucky.”

Bucky. You repeat the name in your head, testing it out. Somehow, it suits him perfectly.

“Y/N,” you say, letting him take your hand. His grip is warm and firm, and his gaze remains steady, holding yours with an intensity that feels almost intoxicating.

“I remember,” he murmurs, his voice dropping lower. “Been thinking about you since that night.”

The admission catches you off guard, your cheeks heating as you try to keep your composure. There’s no trace of insincerity in his tone, no hint that he’s merely flattering you. And it does something to you, hearing that he remembers, that he’s been thinking about you, too.

“Can I buy you a drink, sweetheart?” he asks, gesturing to the seat beside him. The offer is simple, but his gaze tells you that he’s waiting for something more than just a drink. It’s a silent invitation, one you find yourself unable to resist.

You sit beside him, nodding as he signals the bartender. Within moments, a glass of champagne is set in front of you, the same as last time. The tiny bubbles rise to the surface, and you take a sip, savoring the taste as you try to steady your nerves. Bucky’s eyes never leave you, tracking every move you make with a quiet intensity that sends a thrill through you.

“So,” he says after a moment, his voice soft, “what brings you back here tonight, Y/N?”

There’s a teasing glint in his eye, and you can tell he already knows the answer. But you can’t bring yourself to say it outright. Instead, you glance down at your glass, letting the bubbles fizz against your lips.

“Maybe I was… curious,” you admit finally. “About you.”

The words hang between you, more honest than you’d intended, but his reaction is worth it. His gaze darkens, and he leans in just slightly, his voice lowering to a murmur.

“Is that so?” he asks, a slow smile spreading across his face. “I don’t suppose you know much about me, do you?”

You shake your head, feeling both embarrassed and exhilarated by the question. “No, not really,” you say. “Just that you’re the owner of this place.”

Bucky chuckles, the sound low and amused. “That’s one way to put it,” he says, his eyes glinting with something you can’t quite place. “But there’s a bit more to it than that.”

He leans back in his seat, watching you with a faint, assessing smile. “And you,” he says, “are a little out of place in a place like this, aren’t you?”

It’s not a question, more of an observation, and he’s not wrong. You feel the flush of heat on your cheeks as you give a small nod.

“My friends wanted to show me something… new,” you say, glancing around at the bar. “And I guess I wanted to see more of it.”

“More of me, you mean,” he says smoothly, the teasing lilt back in his voice.

You try to stifle a laugh, knowing he’s right. “Maybe,” you admit.

He seems pleased by your honesty, his smirk softening into something more genuine. The conversation flows more easily now, and you find yourself telling him things you wouldn’t usually share with a stranger—about your strict upbringing, your sheltered life, how your friends are always telling you to try something new, something daring.

“Sounds like you’ve been living under lock and key,” he says, a hint of sympathy in his voice. “Bet you’ve never even snuck out after curfew.”

You laugh softly, shaking your head. “I haven’t, actually. I don’t even know what it feels like to break the rules.”

His eyes glint with something mischievous, and he leans in just a little closer, his voice a murmur. “Would you like to find out?”

The suggestion sends a thrill down your spine, and you glance around, feeling both nervous and exhilarated. “Maybe,” you say, your voice softer than you intend.

Bucky’s gaze holds yours, his expression one of quiet satisfaction. “How about a little tour of the place, then?” he asks, offering his arm. “You don’t get to see the real Silver Swan from the barstool.”

You bite your lip, hesitating for just a moment before you slip your hand through the crook of his arm. His gaze softens, and you can feel the weight of his attention on you as he leads you away from the bar. The patrons barely look up as you pass, and you wonder if they’re used to seeing Bucky escorting guests through the place.

He leads you down a hallway that seems to stretch on forever, passing doors that look as though they lead to secret places—rooms shrouded in mystery and intrigue. Bucky says nothing, letting the quiet settle between you, and you feel yourself growing more curious, more intrigued by him with every step.

When he finally stops, it’s at a private booth at the very back of the club, tucked away from prying eyes. The lights are low, the shadows casting his face in a way that makes him look almost otherworldly.

“This,” he says softly, “is where I like to sit when I want a break from it all.”

You glance around, taking in the plush seating and the faint scent of leather and bourbon that seems to hang in the air. “It’s… nice,” you say, feeling a little out of breath. “Quiet.”

He nods, watching you closely. “Not many people get to see this side of the club,” he says. “Guess you’re special, Y/N.”

The words are simple, but they make your heart skip a beat. You hold his gaze, feeling that pull again, that magnetic attraction that brought you back here tonight.

“Thank you,” you say, almost whispering.

He leans in, his hand resting on the back of the booth behind you. “It’s my pleasure, doll,” he murmurs, his voice a low, intoxicating murmur. “I meant it when I said I wanted to see you again.”

You feel yourself getting lost in his eyes, the promise in his voice making your heart race. And as you sit there, hidden away from the world, you realize that you don’t care about the consequences or what you’ve always been told.

As the two of you settle into the private booth, Bucky leans back, relaxed, his gaze never straying far from you. The low hum of the club fades into the background, and for the first time, you feel as though you can truly open up. There’s something about him—something magnetic, confident, almost disarming. It’s as though his quiet intensity has created a space where you feel safe, unjudged.

“You know,” he says, after a moment of comfortable silence, “you’re different than most people who come through here.”

“Different?” you echo, taking a sip of champagne to cover the sudden rush of nervousness. “How?”

He smiles, his head tilting thoughtfully. “Most people here, they’ve got something to prove. Or something to hide. They’re running from their lives or getting a break from them. But you? You seem like you’re still figuring out what it is you want. Not in a bad way. It’s…” His voice softens as his eyes sweep over you. “It’s refreshing.”

You can’t help but smile, feeling a flicker of warmth at his words. But that warmth quickly fades into something more bittersweet, a feeling that gnaws at the edges of your happiness. You glance down, fiddling with the stem of your glass as you think of your father, of the tight restrictions he’s kept on you for so long, and the rules you’ve never dared question.

“Maybe that’s because I don’t know what I want,” you murmur, barely loud enough for him to hear. “I don’t think I ever learned how to decide that for myself.”

He studies you in silence, letting the confession linger in the space between you. Bucky doesn’t press, doesn’t pry—just waits, watching you with a quiet patience that feels comforting.

“It’s just…” you continue, hesitating, unsure how to explain the life you’ve led, the one so tightly wrapped in rules and boundaries. “My father has always been very… strict. Growing up, I had a list of things I could do, places I was allowed to go. There were rules about what I could wear, who I could talk to.” You give a short, bitter laugh, almost embarrassed to admit it. “My whole life has been about following those rules.”

Bucky’s expression shifts, his jaw tightening slightly. “He must be real protective of you.”

“Protective? Yes,” you say, nodding slowly. “But it’s more than that. He always said he was trying to keep me safe, but…” You trail off, staring into your glass. “It feels like I was more of a possession than a person sometimes. Like I was something he could control.”

Bucky’s hand rests on the back of the booth, his fingers inching closer to yours as he leans forward. “Must have been lonely,” he says quietly, his voice gentle, understanding.

The truth of it hits you in a way you weren’t expecting. You’ve never been allowed to admit that, not even to yourself, but hearing it said aloud feels oddly freeing. “It was,” you confess, barely above a whisper. “I think that’s why I stayed. I didn’t know any other way to live.”

A quiet moment stretches between you, and then Bucky speaks, his tone warm but filled with a fierceness you hadn’t seen before. “You know, there’s more out there than just following someone else’s rules, Y/N. There’s a whole world waiting to be discovered—by you.”

His words make something tighten in your chest, a thrill mingling with fear. It’s tempting to believe him, to imagine a world where you could make your own choices, live by your own rules. But the thought is daunting, and part of you wonders if you’d even know where to begin.

“I don’t know if I’d know how to live like that,” you admit, your voice wavering slightly. “It sounds… wonderful, but it’s not easy. Not when I’ve been told my whole life what’s right and wrong.”

“Right and wrong?” he repeats, an amused smirk quirking at the edge of his lips. “Who’s deciding that, doll? Your father?”

You hesitate, feeling a swell of defensiveness and something else—guilt, maybe. “I mean, he’s only ever tried to protect me. He says that the world’s dangerous, and that if I’m careful, I’ll stay safe.”

Bucky’s gaze darkens, something unspoken flickering in his eyes. “And what’s that gotten you? Safety? Or just limitations?”

The question hangs heavy between you, and for a moment, you don’t have an answer. You think about your life as it’s been: the curfews, the rules, the carefully monitored friendships, the way you’d once looked forward to every day shrinking into a comfortable, predictable routine. And it hits you that you don’t remember the last time you actually felt alive, felt excited about something. Meeting Bucky, coming back here tonight—these things have pulled you out of the haze that’s been your life, made you realize just how small it had become.

“I don’t know,” you say, feeling that truth in your bones. “I just… I’ve never known any other way.”

Bucky’s gaze softens, his hand moving closer until his fingers brush lightly against yours. “Maybe it’s time to change that,” he murmurs, his voice low, almost a whisper. “To start making choices for yourself.”

His words stir something in you, something you’ve ignored for far too long. Maybe it is time. Maybe there’s more for you out there, more than just the safe life your father has laid out for you. The thought is thrilling and terrifying, a leap into the unknown that you’re not sure you’re ready for.

But sitting here, under Bucky’s intense gaze, you feel a flicker of courage.

“What if… what if I don’t know where to start?” you ask, barely realizing you’ve spoken the thought aloud.

Bucky smiles, a quiet, reassuring smile that makes your heart skip a beat. “Then start with something small,” he says. “Just one little choice that’s all your own.”

The suggestion feels manageable, like a tiny, contained spark in the face of a bonfire. You look down at your hand, still so close to his, and a thought occurs to you, simple and impulsive.

“Then I choose to stay here,” you say, your voice soft but certain. “With you.”

Bucky’s eyes flash with something you can’t quite name, and his fingers close gently over yours. He doesn’t say anything, but the look in his eyes tells you more than words could. It feels as though a silent promise has passed between you, a vow to share this moment and maybe more.

“You made a good choice,” he says, voice low and sincere. “You’ll find it’s not so bad, choosing what you want for yourself.”

And as you sit there, wrapped in the warmth of his presence, you realize that for the first time, you feel free. It’s a small thing, yes, but it’s the beginning of something bigger. It’s a spark, a chance to break away from the life you’ve known, to carve out something that belongs only to you.

“Thank you,” you say softly, meeting his gaze. “For… for making me feel like I could do that.”

Bucky’s grip tightens around your hand, his gaze unwavering. “Sweetheart, you don’t need anyone to give you permission to live your life. But I’ll be here to remind you, as often as you need.”

The weight of his words settles over you, grounding you, anchoring you in this moment. And as the evening stretches on, you find yourself leaning into this new feeling—this strange, exhilarating freedom. You don’t know where this will lead, but for the first time, you’re not afraid of the unknown. For the first time, you feel ready to face it.

The hours seem to slip away as you and Bucky talk, wrapped up in a world that feels like it belongs only to the two of you. Conversation flows easily, and each answer you give, every shared look, every quiet laugh feels like a step further into uncharted territory—a life you never imagined could be yours. With each word, each moment, you feel yourself coming undone, shedding pieces of the careful person you’ve been told to be.

You learn more about him, too, though his answers are sometimes elusive, his stories sketched in broad strokes rather than fine detail. He talks about Brooklyn, about the fast changes sweeping through the city, about what it means to take control of your life and make your own choices, no matter the risk. And there’s a gleam in his eye when he speaks of it, a sort of fierce independence that leaves you breathless.

He notices your rapt attention and smiles knowingly, and just as you start to look away, he reaches over, lifting your chin with a gentle hand. “Don’t go hiding now, doll,” he says softly. “You’ve got that look in your eye, like you’re learning a secret.”

Maybe you are. Maybe tonight is a door opening in your mind, a glimpse into a world beyond everything you’ve been raised to believe. You don’t want to look away. Not now.

The night deepens, the lights around you dimming further as the crowd in the bar begins to thin. You’ve lost track of time, and when you look at him again, you realize you’ve also lost track of everything else—the worry, the rules, the constraints of who you’re supposed to be. All that exists now is the weight of his gaze, steady and warm and laced with a depth you can barely fathom.

“Bucky,” you murmur, his name foreign but sweet on your tongue, “you’re right. I don’t want to live like that anymore. I want… more.”

He doesn’t answer right away, but the way he looks at you speaks volumes. The intensity in his eyes softens, a hint of something tender mingling with his usual confidence. You’re close to him now, closer than you’ve ever been to anyone before, and it feels so natural, as though you’re meant to be in this moment, with him.

As if sensing your thoughts, he brushes his hand along your cheek, his thumb tracing a soft line along your skin. “You deserve that,” he whispers, his voice barely audible over the distant hum of music. “You deserve to have everything you want.”

Your heart is racing, but it’s no longer just nerves—it’s excitement, the thrill of something new, something you’ve only read about in books or dreamed of late at night when no one was watching. Bucky’s thumb pauses, just beneath your lips, and you hold your breath, wondering if he can feel the heat rushing to your face, if he knows just how much you want this.

And then, as if time has slowed, he leans in, his lips brushing yours in a featherlight kiss.

It’s softer than you imagined, gentle and tentative, almost as if he’s waiting to make sure you’re alright with this, as though he’s giving you a moment to pull away if you want to. But pulling away is the last thing on your mind. Instead, you close your eyes, letting yourself melt into the kiss, letting him guide you.

It’s your first kiss, and yet it feels like it’s something you’ve waited your whole life for. His lips are warm, and there’s a softness to him that contrasts with his strong grip as he tilts his head, deepening the kiss just slightly. You feel his hand cradle the back of your neck, anchoring you to him, and it’s like everything you’ve known has been turned upside down, as if your world has narrowed to this single point of contact.

When he pulls back, his forehead resting against yours, he doesn’t let go. His eyes search yours, and there’s something vulnerable there, something that makes your heart ache in the best way.

“You okay?” he asks softly, a faint, tender smile playing on his lips.

You nod, your voice barely a whisper. “Yes,” you manage, feeling breathless. “I didn’t know it could feel like this.”

He chuckles softly, brushing a lock of hair from your face. “Then we’ll take our time,” he murmurs. “No need to rush. Just… let yourself feel it.”

You can feel the warmth of his hand against your skin, his thumb brushing slow, soothing circles on the back of your neck. The kiss has stirred something in you, a hunger for more—more of him, more of this feeling of freedom. It’s a feeling you didn’t know existed, a kind of heady joy mixed with an electric thrill, and you find yourself wanting to savor every second of it.

“I’ve never…” you begin, your cheeks warming as you try to find the words. “This is all so new.”

Bucky smiles, his gaze softening further. “I know, sweetheart. But I’ve got all the time in the world.” There’s a promise in his voice, a quiet reassurance that lets you feel safe, cared for. And in this moment, with him, you believe it.

“Thank you,” you whisper, not sure how to put into words everything you’re feeling. “For… for this. For making me feel like I could do something I’ve always been afraid to.”

He rests a hand on your cheek, his thumb grazing your skin as he studies you, as though he’s memorizing every detail of your face. “You don’t ever have to thank me for that,” he says, his voice rough with sincerity. “If anything, thank yourself. You’re the one taking the chance.”

The world outside this quiet, shadowed booth feels a million miles away, and you realize, for the first time, that you’re not thinking of anyone else—not your father, not the rules, not the life you’d been told to live. Here, with Bucky, you’re allowed to simply be.

As the night wears on, you talk in hushed tones, sharing fragments of dreams, whispered promises, and moments of laughter. And when he kisses you again, it’s no longer tentative or restrained, but warm and inviting, a promise of something more. It’s a gentle pull, a quiet invitation to step further into this new life that’s slowly taking shape before you.

And as you close your eyes, feeling his arms wrap around you, you can’t help but think that this—this feeling, this night, this person—might just be the beginning of everything you’ve been waiting for.

The weeks that follow are filled with secret rendezvous, stolen glances, and a flurry of emotions you’ve never experienced before. Bucky becomes your world, a thrilling, hidden part of your life that you keep safe from prying eyes and questions. You meet him on street corners, take long walks in the early morning hours, and share intimate moments in dimly lit corners of his bar. He shows you parts of the city you never knew existed, places tucked away from the polished streets you grew up on. With every touch, every lingering look, you feel yourself slipping further from the quiet girl your family knows and closer to the woman he’s helped you become.

But Bucky’s expression has grown increasingly serious each time he sees you. One night, after a quiet dinner at his place, he turns to you with a look that makes your heart race for all the wrong reasons.

“Sweetheart, we need to talk.” His voice is calm, steady, but there’s something heavier behind it. The warmth that always seems to light up his gaze is dimmer, a flicker of worry casting shadows over his features.

The unease in his voice sends a shiver through you. You reach for his hand, squeezing it gently. “What is it, Bucky?”

He pauses, his jaw tightening before he speaks. “There’s something I haven’t told you.” He meets your gaze, searching your eyes as though bracing himself. “About who I am. About what I do.”

The words make you stop short, your heart pounding as you try to read his face. But there’s no trace of the softness he usually holds for you; instead, he looks almost haunted, caught between protecting you and confessing something you suspect he’s wanted to share for a long time.

“Alright,” you say softly, not letting go of his hand. “Then tell me.”

Taking a breath, Bucky looks away for a moment, as if gathering himself, before he speaks again. “I… I’m not just the guy who owns that bar, Y/N.” His voice drops to a low murmur. “I’m in charge of a group of men—a group that does things your father would never approve of. People see me as… as someone to be feared. I’m the boss of a gang.”

You stare at him, processing each word slowly, feeling the weight of them sink in. The man you’ve fallen in love with—the man who taught you how to live outside the lines, who showed you how to think for yourself—he’s also a feared figure in the world of crime, someone your father would have you believe is dangerous and immoral. But despite the shock of it, you can’t seem to find fear in your heart. Instead, you feel something different, something even stronger.

“And… and you think that changes something?” you ask, barely louder than a whisper.

Bucky’s eyes widen slightly in surprise, as if he’d expected you to pull away or look at him with horror. “Y/N, this isn’t a small thing. It’s dangerous. You shouldn’t be mixed up in a life like mine. I can’t offer you the same kind of safety you’re used to.”

You shake your head, your hand tightening around his. “But I don’t want safety, Bucky. Not the way my father has defined it. You’ve shown me a different life, one that’s real. I can finally breathe with you, be myself. And if that comes with danger, then so be it.”

He looks at you, the disbelief in his gaze melting into something softer, something filled with a kind of raw gratitude. “You’re sure?” he asks, voice thick with an emotion he doesn’t quite name. “Because once you’re in, sweetheart, there’s no easy way out.”

You lean into him, closing the space between you, your hand resting against his cheek as you meet his gaze with unwavering certainty. “Bucky, being with you has taught me more than anything else in my life. I don’t care about what you do, or who you used to be, or what other people say. You showed me how to stand up for myself. That’s what matters to me.”

A mixture of relief and disbelief flashes across his face, and for a moment, he seems almost lost for words. Then, as if unable to hold back any longer, he pulls you into his arms, his embrace fierce, filled with a desperate kind of gratitude. You can feel his heart pounding against your own, and the depth of his feeling, the strength of his emotion, overwhelms you.

When he finally pulls back, his hands stay on your shoulders, as though to anchor himself to you, his gaze piercing as it holds yours. “I don’t deserve you,” he says, a quiet, honest confession.

You smile, touching a hand to his cheek. “Maybe you do.”

For the first time, he lets out a quiet laugh, a genuine smile breaking through the intensity of his expression. And then, slowly, he leans down, his lips finding yours in a kiss that’s deeper, more intense than any you’ve shared before. This kiss is filled with relief, with unspoken promises and the kind of love that goes beyond the superficial, the kind of love that’s forged in fire.

When he pulls back, he rests his forehead against yours, his voice barely a whisper. “I’ll protect you with everything I have. I promise.”

You nod, understanding the weight of his words. But you also know that you don’t need protecting, not the way you once thought. Because being with him has shown you that you’re stronger than you ever knew.

And as you sit together in the quiet of the night, Bucky holding you close, you know that this life, complicated and messy as it is, is exactly where you’re meant to be.

maybe a part 2 where y/n's family discovers their relationship? If you liked the story don't forget to like, reblog and drop a follow if you want to read more. <3

[secretly-a-polar-bear]

I think an interesting concept for a traveling companion would be a child dragon, I’m thinking 7 to 8 years old mentally. I was thinking the origin story for this character would be that in exchange for a night in an inn an old lady acquired a dragon egg from a traveling adventurer. Of course the village people weren’t fond of someone having a dragon, so in order for the dragon to live they agreed to cut off the dragons wings. The child was taught how to transform into a human. It’s rather bad for business to have a dragon around. Of course whispering of a dragon residing in the village trickle out of the village. Vox machina looking for work goes to the village. Asking around, the villagers seem rather hesitant oddly enough. Until one villager gives a vague and ominous answer, “go to the old woman’s inn and you will find what you’re looking for.” Of course coming near the inn vex gets a major headache, but the only thing they find is an old woman and an oddly helpful child. Discussing the evidence they have, they’ve landed on the old woman being the dragon in disguise. The old woman choosing to protect the child, agrees to cooperate. However the child returning from a scavenge finds the group, rushing to protect the old woman the child transforms into a dragon, shooting up dust. As the dust settles the group is shocked to see in the child’s place is a small wingless dragon. A conflicted silence over takes the group. The dragon is small and lacks the capability to escape, but it’s young. It has yet to truly see the world for what it is. They’ve yet to feel the greed and revenge that the world will hand them. After much discussion and despite every fiber of their beings to just kill the damn thing they can’t. The old lady knowing full well that the village wouldn’t hesitate to kill the child when she dies she offers the child to the party. They would certainly protect the child and guide it to a better path, one many dragons do not take. It wasn’t the most sound ideas but it would’ve been better than the role the dice to see the result. Hopefully these heroes would know what to do. The old woman would see to it that this village is destroyed peacefully or not. But no one but here needs to know that. The group of course not being particularly fond of this; takes in the child after being convinced by the old woman. Of course it takes forever for the group to… connect with the child. The first one to grow attached is probably grog or pike. Generally any of the members that don’t have a particular revenge backstory with any dragon. The child is helpful and has yet to be the most of the group’s problems. They’re a good lighter and has learned basic house work.

I wanna make it clear that the point of which the child meets the group is entirely dependent on what’s happening in the story. I don’t have the patience to watch live streams and I don’t know how much the show takes inspiration from them. Also I just started season 3. I think the issue with them encountering the child pre killing the first dragon is that it would require everyone to get over their dragon grudge WAY earlier than what the story wants or needs. Plus now they can form new grudges. I like to think the child is rather wise all things considered. I’m not entirely sure how dragon aging works exactly so feel free to update the age just make sure it’s child and all of their relationship with each member is platonic. Now do I think people will make a story with this character? Idk y’all are unpredictable and I know I can’t write this fanfic correctly, I already made many jumps in the origin story. Alright have fun kids.

[thek1ngtalks]

Some backstory info/your inspiration/or what drove you to writing Mountain To No One?

Also, why that title specifically?

Gimme some TNE crumbs here.

I have been really patient in waiting for chapter 3 y'know... 🥲

okokok I have been WAITING for an ask like this

warnings!!! Spoilers! For the end of The Novel's extra and stuff under the cut! also i yap. SOOOOO much. (+bonus drawings to beg for ur forgiveness TT)

so backstory? I finished the novel and lost my fucking mind at the ending. I was GUTTED that such a small group of people remembered Hajin and that Suho wasn't one of them despite LITERALLY FINDING OUT HIS WORLD IS A NOVEL AND HAJIN IS GOD !!! like that is canon! and yet! he doesn't get to remember him! i felt wronged.

My inspiration hit me in the middle of the night in which i wrote two simple sentences before falling asleep.

There's a number on his smartwatch that leads to nowhere. Suho's gotten in the habit of texting it throughout his day. Today, it texted back.

"k1ng, isn't that just the description of MTN?" why yes, yes it is. because i was NOT gonna make a new summary when the original inspiration worked so well

And for what drove me to actually continue writing it when I had (literally) a dozen other ideas for TNE fanfics?

Not sure, actually. I just kinda got inspired, wrote another hundred words and it sort of grew from there. Then i had to make a outline for what I wanted from the story and the ORIGINAL plan was for 2-3 chapters in total of a quick, sweet reunion.

Then I wrote 7k words for the first chapter and 14k for the second. You can see where that went down the drain.

So, to summarize, 1) Finished the novel, hated the ending. 2) Wrote a prompt I ended up liking. 3) Got WAY too deep into it to stop

The title... the title... well originally the title was Mountain to Nowhere. Super similar to Mountain to No One, right? WRONG. Mountain to Nowhere was just a name that sounded nice, felt vaguely interesting and was easy to remember (it's also why i shorthand it to MtN instead of MtNO, it's what i called it in the drafting phase).

Mountain to No One, though, that's different. It doesn't roll off the tongue as easily, implies something FAR different than 'nowhere' and honestly felt more meaningful to me.

I might sound pretentious (if I haven't already) but when I write 'No One', I think of it like the myth of Odysseus. He used the name Outis (Nobody or No One) so i just kinda nabbed it, figuring someone might make the connection one day. I fr thought, "Oh i am COOKING" because i did basic comparisons between two morally ambiguous heroes with hidden identities and (questionably) good intentions. Kim Hajin and Odysseus. but i mean, i wasn't wrong. i was kinda cooking with that one

So 'No One' refers to Kim Hajin. The title essentially means 'Mountain to Kim Hajin' which is why it felt more meaningful than 'mountain to nowhere' which did NOT have that background when i thought it up

IM SO SORRY IT'S BEEN 7 MONTHS. i know, i know. seven months! IM SORRY. im also sorry for yapping. but im offering a few drawings as repayment and this week im officially posting teasers for the new chapter (which should go out by halloween! (hopefully)) so i hope u forgive me anon

[kaibutsushidousha]

Your argument that My Hero Academia’s ending is thematically appropriate but not satisfying raises an interesting question: does thematic appropriateness inherently exclude emotional satisfaction? While the story creates complex questions and resists giving easy answers, Deku’s promise to “save” Tomura feels incomplete under the current ending. Tomura remains in a liminal space—neither fully saved nor condemned—leaving the narrative without a definitive resolution to one of its central conflicts. A sacrificial ending, where Deku gives his life to fully save Tomura and overcome All For One’s influence, might risk controversy, but it could provide a more satisfying emotional payoff while still aligning with the story’s themes. The “Dark Deku” arc teaches Deku the importance of accepting help and rejecting self-destruction, but it doesn’t necessarily rule out the possibility of self-sacrifice as a heroic act. In fact, by learning to trust others, Deku could make a sacrifice that is not about isolation or despair, but rather a collective act of heroism—a choice that is supported, necessary, and rooted in the connections he’s built, rather than a lone decision born of hopelessness. Such an act could inspire others to continue his work and cement his legacy as a true “Symbol of Peace.” This would mirror themes found in works like Utena and Penguindrum, where sacrifice becomes the ultimate act of salvation, emphasizing the idea that to truly “save” someone, one might need to give up everything, including their life. Deku’s death in this context could resolve the story’s central question about what it means to be a hero while leaving behind a legacy that drives meaningful change in hero society. Comparing this to Oshi no Ko’s Aqua Hoshino, it’s clear that Aqua’s narrative hinges on his survival as a reflection of his journey toward healing and moving beyond vengeance. For Deku, however, the narrative stakes are different—he has always been framed as a symbol, someone whose actions inspire others. While Aqua’s survival is essential for his arc, Deku’s death, if framed as a necessary act to save Tomura and inspire change, could be equally appropriate to his character and the story’s themes. In this sense, a sacrificial ending could provide both thematic and emotional closure, resolving the questions of what it truly means to save someone and how a hero’s legacy can endure even beyond their life. Would this approach better satisfy the narrative while remaining consistent with My Hero Academia’s core ideals? Or would it risk undermining the complex, unsatisfying ambiguity that the current ending embraces? (P.S.: I was referring to Light Yagami when mentioning a Jump protagonist who died in 2006. Although, considering Light’s, er, “unusual” status as a Jump “protagonist”…)

"does thematic appropriateness inherently exclude emotional satisfaction?” No, those two usually come together. Most authors are trying to make them come together.

I haven't watched Utena yet and Penguindrum was almost a decade ago, but wasn't Penguindrum the opposite of "sacrifice as a form of salvation"? Let's eat the fruit of fate together. There's meaning or peace to be found unless everyone is together in the dinner table sharing whatever little they have and receiving from others in return. I vaguely remember them breaking free from the idea of self-sacrifice through a Ringo speech about the family sticking together there.

Regardless, your fanfic idea has potential to be impactful while true to the challenges and nuances that the series built. Do write it in full form.

[lunaryugamine]

So these are my thoughts on a Spy x Family/Batman fanfic AU based on @reineydraws very cute and fun art that I'll write someday in the vague future. My Jibaku Shounen Hanako-kun AU takes precedent over this, but I wanted to get this out because it's been eating my brain.

I will admit that I have read almost no Batman comics or watched TV shows but I started reading fanfic for it and now the Batfam runs through my brain 24/7. I am currently reading the Young Justice comics, though, and will be reading more when I'm done with that.

So here's how I'm mashing the two canons together: this is a no superheroes AU where no one has any powers (except Anya and other potential government experiments that haven't come up) and the Spy x Family universe is farther in the future so there's computers and cell phones (the reason why is shown later). Also, Eden Academy is slightly more accepting of strange familial situations (at least for Bruce Wayne) and less obsessed with image because I can't imagine canon Eden Academy accepting a disabled Babs. That's the main setting, but the characters are far more important to me.

Bruce Wayne was orphaned in the war but since this setting actually has therapists he's a lot more well-adjusted and does not go out dressed as a bat to beat up criminals, which is good because Ostania is a police state and they would not tolerate that. The country does, however, have an organization like WISE who also doesn't want another war, and Bruce is involved with that, using his Brucie persona to get information on warmongers in the government. That organization (which doesn't have a name yet) works tentatively with WISE but they don't exactly trust one another. Unfortunately, Donovan Desmond fucking hates Brucie Wayne and so doesn't interact with him at the Imperial Scholars gatherings, leading to Operation Strix still needing to be done. He's beloved by the city of Berlint, just like the Wayne's are in Gotham, which is a big reason why Dick and Jason are able to be accepted into Eden Academy late and Damian without a mom. Twilight is aware that there's a person in the upper echelons of Ostania but doesn't know who it is and is trying to figure it out. Bruce uses his money to make social programs to uplift his fellow citizens in poverty because if you're rich that's what you should do or I'll fucking hate you.

Dick Grayson is still an orphaned circus acrobat (although here his parents deaths are a legitimate tragic accident) that Bruce adopts who is able to get into Eden late due to his intelligence, athleticism, and lots and lots of bribes. Instead of the Court of Owls, he's connected to the Garden here and the Shopkeeper is his relative instead of William Cobb. Bruce is very adamant that Dick is not involved with that, so while Dick knows about the Garden and it's members, he's more involved with the organization Bruce is in. He is legitimately friends with Demetrius Desmond, but his relationship to his father is like Damian's (who is an unreliable narrator when it comes to his family) so he has no information for Dick to get for the organization. He's also close friends with Babs.

Barbara is the daughter of the police commissioner who isn't involved in the SS and is still disabled because she was kind of a gamechanger in comics with her disability so I want to keep that. I haven't decided whether she was born with it or if it was an injury but she still has a wheelchair. Babs is also still Oracle (which is why I need the technology to be updated) and is a hacker similar to maia arson crimew IRL (god bless it) who leaks documents of crimes the Ostanian government has done, and has to be very careful to never reveal her identity because she would immediately be detained, tortured, and killed. Thankfully, very few people would suspect that Oracle is a disabled teenage girl at Eden Academy. No one except Tim, that is.

Jason meets Bruce after trying to jack his car wheels and Bruce takes one look at this child and thinks "Mine" and so Jason is adopted. He is also accepted at Eden Academy late because of his stellar academics and because Bruce had already set a precedent. He's a good athlete, but he's not a prodigious gymnast like Dick so that's not part of why he gets in. Unlike Bruce and Dick, he's not involved in the organization. Instead he's involved in the groups of civilians who are against the police state. In the manga, the only resistance groups are people who are willing to put innocent people in danger, which sucks a lot. The organization Jason's involved in would absolutely kill some government officials but wouldn't get civilians harmed. Duke is also involved in this, but he's a minor character and I'm already juggling so many characters but imagine Duke and Jason working together in a gang setting. DC, why have you not done this already?

Cass (OP didn't include Cass in the original post but I love Cass so she's being included) was still trained to be an assassin from birth with David Cain being part of the Garden, but the Shopkeeper actually has some morals and is horrified when he sees what's been done to Cass, maybe when she's around 9 years old and Cain shows her off to the Shopkeeper, expect him to be impressed. Manipulating children into being assassins is one thing, but training a child to be a weapon and literally nothing else is another, so Cain is disposed of (maybe by Yor) and the Shopkeeper sends Cass to be taken care of by Bruce because he knows that he's a good dad because he takes care of Dick. Unfortunately because she's spent her entire life up to this point not being able to speak or read, she's not able to catch up in school enough to be accepted into Eden Academy, but she is able to go to a school that focuses on dance and she lives her dreams of being a ballerina and meets Steph there, maybe doing another type of dance because I can't imagine Steph as a ballerina. She's not involved in politics the way her brothers and father are, but that's okay because she deserves to just be happy.

Tim is the neighbor of Bruce Wayne who, when Bruce realizes is horribly neglected, unofficially adopts him and eventually sues the Drakes for child abuse and officially adopts him. He was already in Eden Academy so that's not a problem. Tim doesn't have a Batman to obsess over in this universe, but he does have an Oracle to obsess over. He somehow finds out Oracle's identity (I'll figure out how later) and begs to be her apprentice, and she eventually takes him on because Tim is stubborn AF and also a talented hacker in his own right. He's best friends with Conner, the son of reporters Clark and Lois Kent (who report critcal things that the government is doing with pseudonyms), because I'm weak for their relationship. I want to add the rest of the Core Four but I don't know how so we'll see how that goes. He suspects that Bruce and Dick are part of the secret organization and that Jason is part of the civilian resistance to the police state but doesn't want to be involved with that because he's already involved with resistance work and the less he knows the better in case he's found out by the government.

Damian is the actual son of Bruce and Talia, who met on a business trip Bruce or Talia took and they had a fling which resulted in Damian. Ra's doesn't have access to a Lazarus Pit here because those don't exist so he's just a normal cult leader who's been dead before Talia and Bruce meet. Talia has turned the cult's assets into a business venture so Damian has an actually fairly normal, if spoiled and also full of martial arts training because that's still important to Talia, upbringing. Bruce and Talia share custody and Damian stays with his father for the school year and with his mother during breaks. Bruce and Talia may still be in love. I don't know, I'll figure it out. Anyway, Damian has a huge rivalry with the other Damian because they're both sons of influential people with a chip on their shoulder, but they're also foils because Damian W actually has a loving family and Damian D doesn't. Damian W befriends Anya and Becky specifically because he wants to annoy Damian D but eventually becomes legitimately fond of them (and Damian D and his friends) but he will never admit it. He's just as much of a tsundere as the other Damian, just in a platonic way. Damian also faces racism due to his brown skin (BECAUSE HE'S DARK OKAY DC LET HIM BE A POC).

The actual story will have some focus on the little shenanigans of the kids at Eden like in SxF (including the older kids), but instead of focusing on Twilight and Yor, the other part will focus on the Wayne's and their allies political maneuverings, but also some slice-of-life with Cass because she deserves it. We may have some small flashes to the Forger family, but they're not the focus. There will also be Batfam fluff because I'm a sucker for that.

[kaylinalexanderbooks]

fanfic that I'll never touch again sounds interesting!

Thanks for stopping by! (From the WIP title game)

Interesting indeed.

This is the folder where I keep the shitty fanfiction I wrote from ages 13-16. I have nothing against fanfic except for my own :)

Fanfic #1- Warriors Cats

Sparrowpaw looked around and realized he wasn’t in SunClan territory anymore. “Where am I?” “StarClan’s hunting grounds,” Rosecloud answered. “Sparrow- paw, please don’t pester Daisypaw. She must walk her own path.” Sparrowpaw couldn’t believe what he was hearing. “But the prophecy-” “Daisypaw has her own destiny,” Rosecloud interrupted. “Then what was the point of the prophecy?!” Sparrowpaw screamed. “The prophecy was so you could be prepared,” Rosecloud said, calmly. “When it comes true, you need to help Daisypaw. But only you. You can’t tell anyone about the prophecy. You must follow your destiny….”

I did my own OCs, my own Clans, and it really helped me grow as a writer. I made my first outline, tried writing morally gray characters. I actually had a decent plot! Problem was pacing. I may revisit the ideas I had but make it original.

Fanfic #2- Hamilton AU

“Pardon me,” a voice behind Aaron said. “Are you Aaron Burr?” Aaron took a deep breath. It was early. But he couldn’t ignore whoever this was, or they’d keep annoying him. Also, who says “pardon me” anymore? “That depends,” Aaron said, putting his book down and turning around to the kid who had spoken. One of the advantages of being quiet was you could pay attention to everyone around you. Aaron might not know their names, but he knew everyone here by what they looked like. And the kid in front of him did not look familiar. “Who’s asking?” Aaron asked.

I wrote like a singular chapter of a Middle School AU and this is the least painful part of it. Don't make me discuss this further.

Fanfic #3- MCU AU

Idk if a vaguely described birth needs a content warning, but heads up

Peggy’s screams ring through the air, causing a pain to pierce my stomach, though I know the pain is not as bad as what she’s going through. “Just breathe,” the midwife, Dorothy, says. “YOU BREATHE, DAMMIT!” Peggy screams, tears flowing down her face. “Peggy! Peggy!” I say, kneeling down next to her. I take her hand. “Peggy, look at me. It’s going to be okay. It will be over soon—” “GO TO HELL, STEVEN!” Peggy lets out a cry as she has yet another contraction. “Okay, Peggy, I need you to push,” Dorothy says. Peggy screams again as she pushes. She squeezes my hand and I let out a cry of pain. My fingers are losing their color as she squeezes tighter, and tighter. “I can see the head!” Dorothy exclaims. “Push, Peggy, push!” I close my eyes as I see Peggy go through some of the worst amount of pain a human being can experience. I can’t watch her like this. It hurts too much.

It was an AU in which Steve Rogers was not frozen in ice. I cannot read further than this because I was in physical pain from cringing.

Uh may reread it someday but not yet.

Fanfic #4- Supernatural

Content warning: leviathan decapitated head description

It was my oldest, Jamie, who found it in the yard. I was inside when I heard her scream. I raced outside as fast as I could, only to find my daughter standing in the hole we’d dug in search for more oil. She was covered in dirt, and appeared to have dropped the shovel she’d been using. “What’s wrong?” I asked her. Jamie just looked down at her feet, eyes wide in terror. I slowly crept toward her, thinking maybe she’d found a colony of worms or something. But when I leaned over the side of the hole, what I saw caused my heart to stop. At first glance, it appeared to be the head of a man, but his face was anything but human. There was no face. It was just a wide, open mouth with rows of sharp teeth. I was in so much shock, I didn’t realize that the creature’s head was not connected to the rest of its body, which was nowhere to be found. The deformed head was alone, sitting in a pool of black liquid that I’d once assumed was oil, but was now certain that it was the monster’s blood.

All I wrote was this prologue but it ain't bad. Just had no ideas, but this guy, Steven, is an OC

Anyways, hope you enjoyed! I didn't!

[looney-mooney]

Hey,

ever thought about making a fanfic about your Sam & Max Miraculous au on archive of our own aka AO3? I say it would be amazing fanfic material.

I mean I’ve done my fair share of AO3 posting, but my problem with fanfics is that unless it’s a one shot, or something that I don’t really care about the plot of in the first place, I never FINISH them LOL. I don’t even know where I’d START for a genuine AO3 Miraculous Sam & Max fic tbh. I mean, I tried a few times, it just never flows right, you know? I like art because I can communicate a LOT with just one facial expression, just one image, in a way that I struggle to convey with just writing alone. I’m a very visual, tactile person.

It doesn’t help that I’ve got no real end game in mind for this au yet, just a jumbled-up collection of loosely connected ideas. I know who everyone is, I know how the character dynamics would be different from canon, and I have a vague sense for how each person enters the story, but I don’t know what the ARCS are. I don’t know what the CORE of the story is, what the THEMES would be, what the CONCLUSION is.

If you want to try your hand at writing a fic using my art as inspiration though, I say go for it!!! But if you’re waiting for me to do it, well. It’d probably have to sit stewing in my head for another couple years before I really feel ready to do that lol

[cold-blooded-jelly-doughnut]

A, L, N hit me with your answers 💜

Hi Lola! 💛

A: Of the fanfic you’ve written, which is your favourite and why?

Oooh this is such a fun question. And so hard to answer! I think, at this moment in time, my favourite is When I’m Like This. It combines so many of my favourite things to write - angst, grief, smut, emotional hurt/comfort. The boys barely know each other yet, but I had so much fun writing the depth of the connection between them in a fic that would take place in season one. I also got so into it that I wrote until 3am one day, and I love it when a story just grips me like that.

L: Which of your fanfics was the most emotionally challenging to write?

A Helping Hand To Hold You Down! The emotions in this story are big and the scene the boys are attempting together is the first time I’ve tried to write CNC between them. It felt very important to portray this kink in the way I wanted, and have it be something that is both healthy yet delicate, something that requires a lot of trust and ongoing communication etc. Also, it involves TK using a safe word, and Carlos getting overwhelmed, and having them navigate the conversation that follows was definitely an emotional challenge! Ultimately I’m so proud of how this story turned out.

N: Any fic ideas brewing that you’d care to share?

I’ve had two new ideas that both involve the boys going running. The first one is smutty and the second one is angsty! Very vague for now because I only had these ideas yesterday haha.

Thank you for asking! 💛💛

Fanfic Writer Ask Meme

[hallucinateonpaperspines]

Hi!! I just found out you had a tumblr and I saw your rdr2/tfp (of timelines and trolleys) crossover idea and I was just wondering if you’d be willing to expand on that? 👀 (unless you don’t want to give away any spoilers lol)

My rdr2 and tfp hyperfixations have made resurgence lately and the idea of that crossover sounds so cool!!! (I’m rereading your fic atm, it’s so fucking good I need it injected directly into my bloodstream)

WELCOME!!!! and thank you so much for the compliment （＾ω＾）

I've actually been working on the rdr crossover here and there, but I'll definitely start giving it more attention. (I feel I've moved to the acceptance stage of grief, but writing fanfic about it might implicate bargaining... eh I'll get some laughs out of it regardless)

I do want to make a mini-fic that's more put together than my PJO au, but has more content than some of my drops in Worlds of A Disgruntled OC so instead of rambling, how about I give you a sneak peak of what I'm working on?

°˖✧◝(⁰▿⁰)◜✧˖°

Ashlyn Moore was an incredibly unlucky person. It wasn’t a matter of opinion, it was an objective fact of the universe. As cut and dry as gravity’s rules or the laws of energy conservation. A dependable and evidentially supported fact of life, and much like Murphy’s Law, it could be invoked at any moment.

Such as right now.

Here, lying here, with a rock pressed against her spine and dirt rubbing against her skin, Ashlyn Moore was faced with such evidence that would seal her title as the unluckiest person in the world. Because how many people crossed dimensions not once, but twice within a year?

Wrinkling her nose, the girl didn’t bother to open her eyes. She was content to simply lay there, in the dirt, ignorant to the specifics of whatever world she’d wandered into for now. Not much different from what Ashlyn had been doing with the voices, and that had been working out great so far.

As much as she would love to reveal in unknowing bliss, dimensional travel had a very distinct feeling. An odd dreamlike haze, as if reconnecting a mind to a body that had been nothing but split atoms and a handful of migrating molecules moments before was an arduous task. A process not quite complete, even after eyes opened and sight returned. Ashlyn only had a rough guess of the moment her world had first blended with fiction, the transition too vague to truly define, but the sensation of other was too distinct not to connect to. And now, she had relived it once more. That was one aspect of reality, of whatever had happened when energon met that stupid rock, that she could not ignore.

The world had shifted, yet again, and she had no clue how to fix any of it.

Honestly, it was rather predictable, wasn’t it? Didn’t take a lot of brain power to figure out once those few details became clear and the story came into focus like the tapes of an old film.

Miko had tried to sneak out and watch a bot fight. Jack following to make sure the girl didn’t get herself killed was typical. Ashlyn, herself, had been bored out of her mind and resorting to watching mind-numbing videos of a survival expert cooking some Michelin-level salmon with tin foil and alternating to a shirtless man digging out an underground house with a piece of bamboo. Feeling faintly inspired, she’d been prepared to give the latter a try in the base’s walls. The fact that mud and roots were replaced by stone and steel would only add to the challenge. When Jack had catapulted after Miko, narrowly missing in his half-hearted tackle attempt, it was like a dinner bell rang.

Entertainment! Come get your free, entertainment! No broken nails or mining is required!

A pity, she’d been fascinated by the chance to create a hiding place in the walls for the whole 5 minutes the idea had spawned in her mind.

But this would work too.

Sharing a look with Raf, the pair had slyly put the computer down, still playing a collection of YouTube’s greatest survival tips, and followed their fellow homo sapiens. She may have been the oldest of the quartet, but Ashlyn was not their keeper. She was going to enjoy this little impromptu field trip while she could. 

Hidden on a cliff-side, the group held front-row seats to the mini-battle that unfolded beneath them. Ashlyn hadn’t recognized the scene or location, so she’d been too engrossed in the drama to take note when Miko had once again started to move. She’d only realized that anything had changed when Raf had asked what the younger girl was doing near a cave.

Ashlyn hadn’t stopped Miko from interacting with the carvings. Not from the photos or touching the chipped pieces. The design was familiar, even as it seemed jarringly wrong, but Ashlyn couldn’t quite identify what episode those odd drawings were part of. But if they were here, they must be important. 

Who was she to stand in the way of the plot?

Her hesitation was a mistake.

Bad luck had decided to strike again, and the last thing Ashlyn remembered seeing was a sudden blast and hearing the sudden screams of her companions.

In the glare of the light, Ashlyn could have sworn that the carvings had started to dance.

Thus, the latest evidence proving the Laws of Ashlyn had been added to the cosmic tally. She was unamused, but at least she was no longer bored. Ashlyn almost wished she was bored.

Yet, one must count their blessings. The air was warm and pleasant, breathable which was good. The rock that was pressing between the vertebra of her spine had not cut into it, and the tickling sensation of grass and dirt proved that she still had sensation in her limbs.

Somehow she was the unluckiest person in the world, but she still had enough luck in her to walk away with that evidence. Perhaps, in another life, she might’ve been a cat. A black cat with nine lives and the audacity that can only come from not having a single one stolen.

She smiled at the thought of sauntering down fence tops and lounging on tree branches. It must feel something like this, shadows dancing over her face as leaves danced in a merry breeze. Warm sunbeams caressed her form as she would laze away the day, blissful and unconcerned about the troubles of reality.

If only she was actually a cat.

Maybe if she opened her eyes she’d find that such a dream had been fulfilled.

Considering her luck, probably not. But now, with everything but her soul in question, she couldn’t prove that she wasn’t one. Schrodinger’s Cat was her preferred state of being usually, just for the simplicity of it. Why tack on a feline version for her sanity’s sake? 

She is a cat. She is not a cat. She is Ashlyn, and that’s more than enough.

With that line of thought, the girl’s mind drifted off into a strange breed of nonsense that could not help but taper off into a dream. Ashlyn Moore took a nap, not knowing where she was but quite sure that she was alone and that such problems could wait for whenever she deemed it prudent to leave this uncomfortable spot.

Had she not been so nonchalant, some things would have carried on very differently. For instance, a man, full-bearded and with a sour attitude came across the sleeping girl. Spotting a young woman, dressed oddly and splayed out beneath a tree, Bill Williamson shouldered his gun and stared.

What exactly was he supposed to do here?

Bill had seen many strange things in his life, from his stint in the army to his career as an outlaw, life had a way of tossing weird shit all over the place.

Stepping closer to the stranger, dry earth crunching beneath his boot and fingers itching to grab the carbine repeater once more, the man gave a start as some wild beast bellowed in the distance.

It took a moment to realize it was just the lady snoring… so she was alive then. Sleeping like a baby grizzly, complete with a little snot bubble that rose and fell with every “mehu.”  

Stepping back, Bill sighed and rubbed his head. Just their luck that first thing after getting off that goddamn mountain a stranger appears right outside of camp. The women hadn’t even unpacked yet, Mr fucking Morgan’s wagon with Hosea and Charles hadn’t even arrived yet! Dutch hadn’t even done one of his speeches yet and already something unexpected had happened. Lone woman or not, the situation was suspicious.

The gang couldn’t risk gaining any attention or trouble, not until they had the money to split properly. Or until Dutch come up with another plan. 

Looking back at the woman, Williamson took in her odd clothes. Jeans a few sizes too small, boots that didn’t look like anything he’d ever seen and a jacket that might’ve dyed leather. Oddly dressed, yes, but, other than a branch sticking out of wild hair, she was well-groomed and appeared healthy from a quick glance. Not some poor waif, likely had a family that would notice if she went missing.

Drat.

Dutch also wouldn’t appreciate killing a random woman just because she decided to nap near the camp. Besides, there was no confirmation that she’d seen anything. No confirmation that anyone knew where she was or would suspect them if she went missing. Valentine was a small town. People talked in small towns. People were suspicious.

The Van Der Linde Gang did not need help to be seen as suspicious.

Poking her with his boot, Bill watched as that lady scowled and swatted it. He thought he could hear her muttering about something.

Leaning closer, Bill hovered over the girl in hopes of overhearing. Maybe pick up some clues on this latest shit that had been tossed his way.

He failed to account for the girl waking up.

Ashlyn Moore, opening her eyes to a strange, kinda familiar, ruffian hovering over her acted on pure, engrande reflex.

Always aim for the eyes, her mother had told her.

Her hand moved quickly, fingers winding in the coarse foul-smelling beard, and pulled. Her other hand met the surprised and teetering man’s face.

A solid crack sounded off as blood spurted. The man screamed, shrill and high as he fell back on his heels, hands too occupied with his broken nose to reach for his gun.

What luck. What wondrous, good-for-nothing, terrible luck.

“Y-you! YOU BITCH!”

Amid the whining, Ashlyn could hear trees rustling and other voices sounding off in the distance. Had she not just woken from a nap, the girl might’ve taken her wake-er hostage with that pretty rifle. Or maybe she would have demanded to speak to his boss, manager, or mother about his horrid manners. Alas, still sleep-addled, Ashlyn felt the incoming forces of retribution and bolted out of the forest, into an open clearing, and ran out into the plains without bothering to think about where she was going.

Bill for his part, was left with explaining to Javier what the hell happened when the Mexican bounded over pistol drawn and just quick enough to see a shadow darting away. As Mrs. Grimshaw set his nose and smacked his head, Javier wouldn’t stop laughing about Bill losing a fistfight to a deer.

Uncle said it must have been a branch.

Bill remained quiet, sulking as Mr. Morgan drove his wagon in and listened to the tale.

“Nah. Must’ve been a twig.”

Bill really wished he had shot that girl.

[mmx-code-crimpphire]

Headcanon: how X and Zero's Promise turned into a Proposal

I'm sure a lot of you have seen the chapter in the fanfic I wrote, right here.

Since it'll be similar yet not, I suggest you read the story here before continuing further. It is also a big spoiler, but not as big as some of my other ones I'm saving for later. So if you don't want spoilers on how I think I wanna write this for the main story, then you can keep going.

But I don't mind if you keep going, that's fine too~.

NEW CHAPTER ON AO3!!

Of course, you already know about the headcanon of X and Zero's Important Promise, right?

Well, what if I told you that the promise turns into a half proposal? Lemme explain.

X and Zero get a chance to be alone on the cliffside, the one where Zero found to be one of their favorite spots to be alone. It's a heartfelt moment between the two and Zero pops the question. He still kneels on one knee but Xev is sitting down instead of standing up (compared to the chapter I write in the XZero 2023 fic anyways).

Zero thought about this for months. Thinking about this even before being sent out to the shuttle to destroy the Eurasia Colony when the Enigma failed. He thought if he couldn't do this now, he'd never have much of a chance. At least that's what he felt at that time. Especially carrying the baggage of trauma that came with coming back a second time. So, Zero wanted to get this out in the best opportunity he possibly thought it could be.

They are actually alone this time, and they extend the promise to marry whenever they get the chance peace is finally being achieved. They can't wait for it to completely die down, because that was too unrealistic, especially for Zero. Knowing how much they'd still have to fight down or any villain that may try to rise up against them. But they know they'll be ready when it happens.

They don't make it known until someone notices Xev's ring is on his ring finger instead of his pinky finger. Alia or Iris, honestly, but if they had to keep it a secret, Iris would definitely keep it under wraps. Whilst Alia probably wouldn't but keep it vague that no one would know what she was talking about. She's a bit of a gossiper but with something like this, with Xev and Midnight being her close friends, she knows how secrets like this are important to them. Especially if they wanted to have a wedding that's pretty selective with friends and a few hunters that won't out them as badly.

I'll still make a post/chapter briefly on how their wedding will go. It'll be more in detail in the domestic fanfic I wanna make, starting with the wedding. It'll be a couple chapters long. The wedding will have a short recap in the main story and I'm excited to make it all detailed in the separate fanfic still connected to the AU. It'll be in the short stories series, even if it won't be a short story, technically, cuz it'll have chapters but YEAH!

That's pretty much it and I can't wait to touch upon the moment it happens!!

[manofthepipis]

Don’t know if you plan this, but will spamton eventually tell the other 3 Ads about how his glitches feel? Like the “burning/hot plate sensation” I don’t think Survey ever told them, and doesn’t want to say things on spams behalf, but I am curious on how their reactions will be in that area!

Also! Do you plan on introducing Kris back into the story later on? As spams whole “being pardoned by them” thing? If not, that’s totally fine as well!

Another thing! Do you view Gaster as Mike? Or a another party? I know that Gaster and Spam have a connection, no doubt about that, but I just wanted to hear your thoughts!

rlly good question! honestly i have an answer for that first bit in the next chapter when some of the adds talk about, well, the complicated things that they've seen from spamton. The terms and conditions here. unfortunately for surv, they got some of the most heart wrenching info, but i'd feel they're rlly talkative and communicative in nature, telling the others the latest Spamton Revelation Of The Day

(i plan to put more of their convos in the next chapter, which is almost done as i've had it set aside a lot in lieu of a new job lol but i'm gettin there)

I dont plan on bringing kris into this fic, mostly because i'm unsure what canon will do, and this fic is like an au equivalent of a waiting-room-for-chapter-3-to-come-out-for-me like we know for the lightners it's over the course of the week, but for darkners, so little has been said about how their world works it's the creativity juices coming into play. Though he eagerly awaits their return and to be his best self just in time to be a better ally to the party than jevil :D

speaking of not knowing what canon will do, I've definitely been alluding mike to being gaster, but only because that was my favorite theory at the time of writing srpsb. After sweepstakes, it's changed a bit, or i've become a lot more open minded about all the possibilities about who mike really is. Still, I'm committing to keeping Mike as the one who was the one behind the phone and the strings, at least in this au, despite it one day maybe being turned all on its head (but hey that's the fun of fanfic lmao). Though you won't see me saying Mike=Gaster for sure, it's my favorite theory, and one i've been sold on since moment one, but one big thing in my writing is keeping many things vague since the UT/DR fandom is rich with theories and headcanons and i keep a lot of things open to interp (except acid theory like i can't get behind that one at all but yet i never have. absolutely no shame but i like the light/puppetification theory a LOT more just cuz of Spamtons plethora of themes. this isn't a surprise but ya the fic isn't friendly to acid theory lol).

[subukunojess]

DDLV: Forgotten Headcanons

*CONTAINS SPOILERS FOR DISNEY DREAMLIGHT VALLEY* *Read At Your Own Risk*

Hi guys. Going off with my Dreamlight Valley kick by wanting to share my headcanons for The Forgotten that I will be writing for in fanfic when I get free time. It’s been fun knowing what happens in the 5th update, then playing things out for myself and connecting the dots with the memories and quests I’m doing on my end. 

Note that this version of The Forgotten is based on my personal experiences and that some of the characters I mention are not in the canon game (yet). These headcanons will be out of order

Without further ado, here is how I will be writing The Forgotten under the cut:

The Forgotten

Alias: Jess, The Ruler, Shadow Moth, The Dragon

Gender: Nonbinary/Genderfluid

Pronouns: They/Them (but they do not mind other pronouns)

Theme Song: Once Upon A December from “Anastasia” 

It’s hard to pinpoint when the split happened. I was introduced to the harshness of the world when I was young. I got bullied and had to deal with deaths in the family, and even though I grew up older than my peers, I would turn to the internet world to daydream and cope with the real world. I know that I officially grew up in adulthood after leaving high school, but I didn’t feel my “teenage angst” until my early to mid-twenties. So for Jess, the split happened slowly and fragmented. The exact timing is vague but I would say it happened when I transferred to my 4 year college. 

One night, Jess wakes up to find herself surrounded by night thorns wrapping around her, digging into her skin. She tries to remove them, but there are too many and she could hardly move. She cries for help and in a desperate act, tries to use a magic spell. She’s panicking and Oogie Boogie (if you have seen the NBC post earlier, this would make sense) comes in to rescue her. Who else was he gonna play games with and complain to Jack to? Jess messes up the spell, there’s an explosion of light, and Jess stands alone with no thorns or Oogie. Panicking again, she gets even more alarmed when she suddenly transforms into a shadow version of Oogie. She runs into the Glade of Trust crying when Mother Gothel finds her and takes advantage of the situation. Only Mother Gothel knows about the incident. 

Later on, Jess finds out that she said the wrong spell and it backfired, splitting Oogie in half and merging one-half of him into her. Not only does she get frustrated with looking for the other half, but now the Night Thorns are getting worse, people are forgetting things, and Jess feels like she’s changing. 

At that point, I think the transformation from Jess to The Forgotten was gradual and smooth. In the beginning, it was just an eye color change here or a change in clothing there. When they had more energy and a little bit of hope, they would disguise themselves to look how they used to but over time, it got harder to do so and they started to get negative thoughts, but they did not know how to express themselves. They would put up a front but slowly lose motivation to do things to the point that they didn’t care about the quality of the product and they tended to do things themselves. 

Up until this point, Oogie had not come out yet. It was only when Mother Gothel tricked Jess into taking the Orb of Trust and trying to seal them in the tree that Jess turned into Oogie and fought back, causing Gothel to be stuck in the tree. Same with Scar when he tricked them into destroying Sunlit Plateau. It was more subdued however because Scar at least didn’t force the Ruler to be imprisoned.

There was one moment where the Forgotten cared for something and forgot their angst for one night. One day, Lock, Shock, and Barrel came to them complaining about how boring everything got, and they low-key feared that Halloween would be forgotten. (At this point, Jack and Sally are in Halloween Town and Oogie is in the ruler). Hearing this, The Forgotten cursed at the thorns at the idea of forgetting the most beloved/sacred holiday, so they decide to be spiteful/petty about it. They made a huge load of candy and decorated the Forgotten Lands so it’s like a Halloween Forest with candy everywhere and there’s only one house to trick or treat from: the Fairy Godmother. I’d imagine the Fairy is the type to be all sweet and give you those king-sized chocolate bars and candy apples. The Forgotten had a crown, wings, and a costume along with a dragon mask they crafted (inspired by Maleficent). It’s that one sweet moment that both Oogie’s Boys and the Fairy Godmother remember. 

One day, the Forgotten got curious about a spell to save people from the darkness, so they decide to test it with the Orb of Love. They tried to distract Olaf by offering to play Hide and Seek. When the spell didn’t work, they abandoned the orb and went to the secret chamber to study and leave through a portal. Olaf comes in with the orb, trying to give it back. The Forgotten gets angry, snatches the orb, and throws it in an unstable portal, shifting into Oogie. They then realize what they did, shocked and in horror that they were mean to Olaf. They call themselves a monster and wants to go where monsters go. 

They then teleport to Lalotai unconsciously where they were about to be eaten by a monster but they were saved unawares by Tamatoa. Seeing that this strange human has magic, skills, jewels, and the potential to get revenge on Maui, Tamatoa takes the Forgotten in as a prisoner/mentee, teaching them about hunting prey, fighting, searching for treasure, and being a monster. As a result, the Forgotten can grow claws, use bioluminescent colors, have a new outfit, and can freely change into Shadow Oogie. Real-life equivalent: it was in the same year that my life changed for me when I watched Moana for the first time and actually joined Tumblr. It was Tamatoa that helped me grow and move forward in my life. 

Although they honed their skills, the Forgotten knows that they cannot control the thorns anymore and they get the motivation to protect everyone from the Forgetting, so they leave a Forgotten Relic with Tamatoa and go to a Dark Castle where they make their home there and prepare for the ultimate spell.

I’ll hold off for now on headcanons since it might get too long, but I did want to write these ideas down while they are still fresh in my mind. If you have any ideas or comments or get inspired, feel free to share!

[shrunkupthejams]

hey! it's been a hot minute and my writeblr intro could use some refreshing, so here we are!!

my name is achilles! im 18, and im a hobby writer. im in university right now, but i still try to make time to write when inspiration strikes! just here to share my stories, have fun and goof around! my target audience is always, first and foremost, myself.

my favourite things to write are high fantasy and world building!! mostly, my stories all take place in the same universe, an archipelago on a planet named dirt. in my works, i like exploring trauma, sappy fluff, and unconventional relationships.

when it comes to storytelling formats, i'm most often just holding handfulls of writing snippets and hoping for the best while i piece them together. i tend towards short stories, or short story collections, though most of my works will probably become novels or novel series. (im just a bit allergic to structure.) (though, i think i might just hate chapters.)

i also dabble, just a little and very self-indulgently, in fanfiction! inspiration for fanfiction tends to strike me very randomly (in frequency and in content), though i do have a few small finished fanfics! fanfiction is actually what got me into writing, way back in middle achool. it's all very much an exercise in cringe and heartfelt silliness for me.

with my wips, i tend to bounce rapidly all over the place and not get much done for it, but here's what i've been working on! some old (since middle school!!), some new!! (for my sanity and the sake of the length of this post, none of my fanfic wips will be included in this list.) (however, i refuse to exclude any of my original wips, so buckle up!! there are a LOT.)

working title: camilla marie & co.

the gist: what starts as a sort of chosen-one magic school shenanigans becomes a wild goose chase around the archipelago of dirt when camilla is taken by the knights of the capita. a high-fantasy coming of age story about chosen family, fate, and figuring out who you are in the face of adversity and others' expectations.

[☆ intro post]

working title: double a batteries

the gist: an accident that leads to kesh discovering they have superpowers turns their life upside down. a sci-fi/fantasy story that explores morality and familial obligations.

related aus: the adventures of jet astriak, jaiw au

[☆ intro post]

working title: isr: afters

the gist: two childhood friends, moriah and charo, reunite years later after becoming affiliated with the same magical gang. explores parental issues, with a healthy helping of childhood friends to lovers, organized crime, and vague religious trauma.

related aus: moriah & the greasters, cutiepete future au

[☆ intro post] (none yet!)

working title: shielda x dlade

the gist: follows the relationship between shielda, a reluctant chosen one, and her friend sabine as her newfound status moves her up through the ranks of iroma's military. explores intimacy and the line between right and wrong.

related aus: théqet & ardain, apartment neighbours modern au

[☆ intro post]

working title: seeing ghosts

the gist: when rea moves to calderine city to finish her practicum, she isn't really looking to make any friends or connections, not even with her very sweet new roommate, madden. but when she begins to be physically haunted by ghosts of her past, she is forced to learn to trust and rely on the people in her life, madden included. a fun little exploration in being haunted by your past (physically), self-sufficiency borne of trauma, and intrusive thoughts, maybe.

[☆ intro post]

working title: nnsei

the gist: existing on the fringes of the teenage academy population in their own ways, victoire, félix and aeliane all have their own problems in addition to clawing their way through their last year of school. victoire won't stop exploring the catacoumbs below the academy, even at the risk of his own health and safety; aeliane is still grappling with the trauma of her mother drinking herself to death; and félix, well, félix won't ever tell his friends what's going on behind that ever-present smile, but rumour has it his sister was offered up as a blood sacrifice in a solar cleansing ritual a few years ago. and in addition to all that, there might just be something sinister going on behind the closed doors of the academy, especially if the monsters stirring in the catacoumbs are anything to go by.

related aus: the sacrifice of brinelle somer

[☆ intro post]

working title: of sea jewels and great lords

the gist: after being tasked to find a group of missing villagers, geo finds themself responsible for imprisoning chad, a lackluster, troublemaking magician beneath a mountain. the trouble is a) finding such an uninhabited mountain, and b) travelling with said troublemaking magician. the trouble is also a third secret thing: the choice between duty and love once geo finds themself falling for chad against all odds.

[☆ intro post]

working title: as cherry wine

the gist: rosy is killed the night before she is due to return from her bride's pilgrimage to marry leisel. she awakes as a vampire and is forced to reconcile with her new identity and eventually, to reconcile her relationship with her former fiancée, who still believes her dead.

[☆ intro post]

working title: waldosia

the gist: after seven years at sea, wallie fischer, the last person shia wants to see ever again, returns to their hometown and all the things he left behind with a warning for shia of an imminent threat to their smuggling outfit and loved ones. shia is forced to work with wallie against the threat, but they can't seem to let the past rest, especially given they had been wallie's fiancé before his abrupt departure seven years before.

[☆ intro post]

working title: bentley

the gist: how bentley met her wife, and how her loss led bentley's descent into madness and misfortune. (could probably be considered an au off of waldosia)

[☆ intro post]

working title: giselle & darius

the gist: not long after her marriage to darius, the vampire king, giselle decides she must get her hands on the crown, through any means necessary. *any* means. (could be considered au of [REDACTED] <- literally the only thing i will ever fuss abt spoilers for lol)

[☆ intro post]

working title: timekeeper kiddos

the gist: the life and times of oaken and her friends, beginning with their discovery of a door between worlds that takes of the appearance of pvp battle arena, where they take on the roles of otherworldly deities called 'timekeepers'. when the lines between reality and the arena begin to blur and people begin to get hurt, they're forced to figure out how to send the timekeepers back to their own reality. beyond that, the web that connects these six friends, and chaz, flows them through adulthood, as they go their separate ways.

related aus: jungho at psu au

[☆ intro post]

working title: jmg

the gist: when enki and akira fight to help sora and his siblings escape their abusive and negligent father, they're surprised to learn sora has been dead the entire time.

[☆ intro post]

working title: cymothoa exigua/modern au

the gist: a tragedy about socio-economic and individual power, gender roles, and self-censorship; leaving behind the rigid expectations of a conditional parental love, only to leave yourself behind in the pursuit of romantic love. despite getting out of the negligent household of his childhood with several of his siblings in tow, zenith fails to escape the patterns of his parents, repeating his mother's sacrifice of individuality for love.

[☆ intro post] (none yet!)

☆

[gurggggleburgle]

Hi allow me to give another unhinged headcannon about pidw meta if it existed.

Ahem* if there were any gay✌ 'ships'✌ in the PIDW fandom they would be ugly bastard doujins in a similar vain of those few breath of the wild or SAO doujin ect where Bingge my boy gets topped among many other things (if you know you know) or people would 'ship' (saying ship feels wrong but it's the closest available word i have. the nature of fandoms for things like what PIDW would be irl doesn't really ship in the manner that tumblr users tend to think. It's more like they have abstracted an extra step away from the source material and the characters are exceedingly there to exist as dolls. We do this in our everyday fandom interacts but I notice in these spaces it never really feels like a connection to the character beyond vague surface traits and tends to focus more on physical body types and character archetypes. But with this in mind when it comes to shipping it means nobody is using Luo Binghe as a character just as a surrogate for themselves with the waifu they've chosen that week.) Mobei-Jun because he's the only actual male in the series with any credible screen time and even then it's like one of them gets turned into a girl or drawn overly feminine and girly because the primary straight cis male audience of a book like this isn't ready to ask that question about themselves yet. That or its futa stuff with a preestablished wife but there is a fair chance he's still topping.

Basically what I'm saying is if there are any Shen Qingqui and Bingge things that would exist they'd be like... Dead dove do not eat. Either some shen jiu shouting some phrases that only exist in hentai related to dicky wicky and being objects of sex (again if you know ya know). Or you may get the rarest of all a dark introspection sfw one that likely was written by one of the 2 existing hardcore female fans.

This my long winded way of saying while i enjoy the jokes in fanfic that Shen Yuan has read PIDW fanfic and knows there is BL shippers it would be even funnier for him to complain about the fact that anyone writes Bingge getting topped content at all (there is a favorite he's not admitting it). Or that people ship Mobei-Jun and Bingge. As that's ridiculous and doesn't make sense. They're just BROS bro. God don't make it gay.

Or, and I do think this is the funniest one, nobody is writing deep introspective fanfic or making comics about Bingge's emotional needs and is focused on the sex. Man is mad the mostly cis heterosexual (and probably incel laden) audience is too busy focused on the porn to think of the protagonists emotional needs. Or even just art of this broken man.

All of them losers focused solely on them tiddies while Shen Yuan is over here asking the real questions. The fanbase is busy making content meant to cater to their specific wants and fetishes with one guy in particular who just shows up all the time asking for such a niche thing. Enough that it's almost a meme. And they are all clowning on the guy who's claiming to hate the novel and asks them to take the book seriously.

also there is no way he would not review all of the fan content he stumbled on in great anti fashion. And getting a positive-ish comment from cucumber is actually considered by fandom a mark of shame. I just don't think the internet could resist clowning on this man further by not treating a cucumber approved work as a meme joke of shame.

[fieri-sentio-et-excrucior]

@deathbyoctopi thanks for the fanfic game ask!

I’ll ask for The taste of rain on skin for A (even though is rather self-explanatory, plz DO TELL WHAT WERE YOU THINKING >w< aaand I should ask the Prisoner for E >:3 but won’t bc at some point we’re really getting a sequel for that one (looking forward to it!!) sooo I’ll go with Two heads are better than one.

A: How did you come up with the title to ‘The taste of rain on skin’?

I guess the title is quite self-explanatory :D Though I wanted something that wasn’t too crude for the title of an essentially smut-only fic!

In terms of where the fic itself came from, I’d recently fallen into the XueXiao rabbit hole, had been binging angst fics and had just written my own first fic for them, Liberation, which was also angsty (I couldn’t get that image of Xue Yang dying and the last thing he saw being XXC’s candy out of my head), so I decided a more light-hearted, smutty fic was needed next! And I love imagining that period of happiness when they’re in Yi City but everything hasn’t gone to shit yet. In my mind, whether he realises it or not, Xue Yang is completely gone for Xiao Xingchen – he’s the first and only person he has ever really wanted, in all senses of the word, physical but also emotional and everything. So I wanted to write a story where they get together and Xue Yang is full of hunger and desperation and urgency, and Xiao Xingchen is similar in his own more restrained way but still longing for that connection, to feel wanted rather than abandoned or alone.

E: If you wrote a sequel to ‘Two heads are better than one’, what would it be about?

You are definitely getting a sequel to the Prisoner of Jinlintai, hopefully sooner rather than later! It is getting long - now practically 90k words and still got a bit more to write! But I can’t wait to share it with you!

I am quite tempted to write a sequel to Two Heads Are Better Than One too! Though I have a few loose ideas and no real plan yet. I’m not sure if I want to go down the angsty route of they still hate each other and now XY is stuck having XXC’s & SL’s kids or down the fix-it route of they all learn to live and even be happy together, making a nice, little family… There are different ways to explore each of those options too. So it’s a bit vague, I’m sorry! I don’t want to go into too much detail in the hope that I’ll actually get around to writing the thing! But what I can say is that, as it’s an omegaverse setting, there would definitely be plenty of smut, whatever direction the story went :D