#writing down everything for fic research purposes

[neon-medusae]

smoll bean of a defenseman

[wordstome]

now that we don't talk

I cannot be your friend, so I pay the price of what I lost And what it cost Now that we don't talk

alpha colonel König x beta ex-lover reader

2nd person, no y/n, she/her pronouns, reader's callsign is Eden, reader speaks French, omegaverse, exes to lovers, fraternization

2.2k words

tw: none

I swear to God one day I'll write something that doesn't involve that big hooded freak. But today is not that day.

Shoutout to loganlermanstanaccount here on Tumblr, who I won't tag. The bullet point headcanons with written parts interspersed format is from their excellent college roommate Miguel O'Hara post, which became their fic Rigor Mortis. I highly recommend both!

Also, excuse the absolutely butchered military content. I'm sure none of this is how it works in real life, but alas, this is fanfiction, not a research paper. Reader serves a Laswell-like role, but I refrained from labeling her as CIA even though I do call her a station chief. For the purposes of this fic, she's the voice in the operatives' ear during ops. We're playing a bit fast and loose with the terminology here.

You’re a highly skilled intelligence agent and operative handler.

You’ve spent most of your life dedicated to your career: moving through the ranks, proving yourself, refusing to let anything stand in the way of your ambitions.

You’ve done some things you aren’t proud of, but always for the right reason. Or the reason that made the most cold, logical sense. Even when your heart tells you otherwise. Nobody in this line of work has clean hands, after all.

You’ve always done what needs to be done. For everyone’s best interest.

Today marks the first day of your collaboration with a PMC called KorTac. You’re hunting down a homegrown cult turned out-of-control terrorist cell.

You haven’t had much experience working with mercenaries, but in terms of hardened war criminals, KorTac’s people are quite well mannered.

Not that you had expected them to be rude and discourteous, but, well. You are an outsider. They haven’t necessarily embraced you, but their reception was nice enough.

You’ve got a meeting with their commander, but you can’t quite find the room you’re supposed to be meeting in. Not a great first impression to make, but luckily, someone takes pity on you.

He introduces himself. Korean. Callsign Horangi.

“You’ll get used to the layout of the base,” he says as you follow him through winding hallways.

“I hope so,” you reply. “I’ll be here for a while." You study the walls, the signs and numbers on the doors, trying your best to memorize everything.

"Do you know your commander well?" you ask. You're not the world's biggest fan of small talk, but you may as well know what you're walking into.

"König? Yeah, we've been close ever since he joined up." Horangi says, leading you into a long hallway. "He's a good guy. A little intense, but don't let that get to you. He's just getting the job done."

"We'll get along if he's competent." You can respect a man who forgoes pleasantries for making sure the shit gets shoveled.

"You don't have to worry about that." Horangi stops and holds the door open for you. "After you."

You study him for just a moment before entering the room. He's curt and to the point. Not bad-looking, either. Hopefully you'll get more chances to—

Your heart nearly stops.

KorTac's commander is facing away from the doorway, shuffling through some papers by the looks of it. But you would know him from any angle. The set of his shoulders, the way his stance is at ease but never truly relaxed, the way his hair curls at the nape of his neck.

You have to force yourself to step into the room. And when you do, he turns around.

You're vaguely aware of Horangi stepping around you to get into the room, but that's happening somewhere far away from the headspace you occupy right now. By the way König's eyes widen as they meet yours, he's in the same place too.

He hasn't aged so much as he's gotten more tired. He never did sleep enough, but now he looks like he hasn't gotten a sound night's rest in a long time. He's put-together, but there's a haggardness to him that probably wouldn't be noticeable to anybody but you. Someone who knew him when he was younger, and in the prime of his life. Someone who used to know every scar on his body, every crease of his brow, and now hasn't seen him in more than a decade.

The man who broke your heart stands on the other end of the room, staring at you as if he's seen a ghost.

The two of you stand there for a while before Horangi's voice shakes you back to reality. "Brought the station chief, sir."

"I...see." König—you suppose that's what he calls himself nowadays, the arrogant prick—clears his throat. "Thank you, Hong-jin."

"No problem." Horangi takes a seat. "The others will be in soon."

Horangi seems like a perceptive enough guy. Can he tell that the room feels several degrees colder? You pull a chair out, the furthest one from König's position possible, and ignore the hurt that briefly flashes across his face as you sit down.

The meeting goes well. It's just an opportunity for you to formally introduce yourself to the KorTac operators you'll primarily be working with for the next few months.

You can tell they're a close knit group by the easy way they interact with each other: they've worked together for a while.

König, too, is part of them, which must be how they pick up on the chilly dynamic between the two of you. Some of them are just puzzled. For most of them, it raises their hackles.

It doesn't matter to you. You can barely focus on getting through the meeting without feeling like you're going to faint.

It's absurd. You're not some delicate Regency-era lady. You're a hardened military officer. But it makes no difference.

It doesn't matter how long it's been, it seems. He's still the only one who can make you feel like this.

You can't get out of there fast enough after the meeting has concluded. Not only are the others shooting you suspicious looks, but you've spent too long in his presence. Any longer, and you don't know how you're going to keep your composure.

But you can't escape him. Of course not. Why did you ever think otherwise? You hear him call for you, and you walk faster. But it's futile.

This hallway is smaller, narrower, less open. Nobody's around to watch when he slams you against the wall to stop your hasty retreat. Nobody's around to see the way you sway in his hold, overwhelmed by the smell of him all around you. You're bathed in it, the overpowering presence of him.

"We need to talk." he demands.

"We just did. Meeting's over," you shoot back, making a paltry attempt to wriggle out of his grasp. He loosens his hold on you, but you're still trapped between him and the wall. No exit.

"I didn't plan this, in case you're wondering."

"That much was obvious." He's let his hair grow out longer, you notice at the most inopportune time possible. It suits him, you think.

He sighs in frustration. "If we're going to work together, we have to be civil."

"Don't worry. I wouldn't expose how much of a scoundrel you are in front of your precious squad," you bite.

You feel a twinge of smug satisfaction as regret settles into his expression. Too little, too late.

"I don't want it to be like this, either," he murmurs. "Ignoring and avoiding each other."

"You don't get to tell me how to act."

"You're right. But it's been a long time. Can't we try to get along? Not for my sake, but...yours."

"Well that's not condescending at all."

"That's not what I meant. I know my team. If you're walking around resenting me openly like that, they won't trust you. And they need to, if you're working with us."

He's right, and you know it. But there's that deep instinct inside you, older than your bloodline, waking up after a long slumber. It wants him, snapping at the bit to give into him and do whatever he asks of you. The urge will consume you if you don't fight it every step of the way.

You glare up at him, hoping you come off as brimming with resentment instead of desire. "As long as you and your team stay professional, I can too."

He's not satisfied with that answer, but it's all you're going to give him.

"Fine." He steps away from you, and you pour all your willpower into commanding your body to stay still. To not chase after his closeness. You sway on the spot, dizzy with his scent after having gone so long without it.

"This hallway is a dead end, by the way."

You try, you really do. But it's hard to be around him without feeling the urge to touch him, to press yourself against him and inhale him like the most destructive drug possible.

Your only recourse is to stay as physically far away from him as possible.

You do your best to ingratiate yourself with the other operators. You and Calisto are fast friends: she's got a breezy confidence to her that's quite refreshing. It also doesn't hurt that you speak French, as well. There's a bit of kinship felt whenever the two of you are holding a conversation none of the others can understand.

Horangi's a different story, though. The initial courtesy he showed you is a bit more clipped, now that it's clear something is up between you and König.

You can't believe you missed it the first time, the way König's smell is all over him. It really has been too long.

The two of them must be pretty close. You give up trying not to fixate on the idea.

You didn't mean to eavesdrop on them, but you were curious. Even more curious when you hear your name mentioned.

"It's pretty clear you and Eden know each other. None of us are stupid."

You freeze in your tracks. The door is closed, but you can hear Horangi's voice, loud and clear in the room behind it.

"It's not relevant. She's just here to do a job."

"I think it's pretty relevant that she gets up and leaves whenever you enter a room, regardless of what she's doing. She can't get away from you fast enough."

You give a surreptitious look at your surroundings, then lean down slightly, pressing your ear to the door.

"You're not going to give this up, are you?"

"Hell fucking no."

You hear König sigh. "Fine. We knew each other before I joined KorTac. Back when I was in the Jagdkommando."

Do you want to hear this? Your painful history, relayed to a near stranger? Horangi's not a stranger to him, that's for sure.

"And?"

"We were...involved."

"You and a beta? Never took you for the type."

"Well, neither did I. But she was...special. Smart, pretty, deadeye with a knife. Wouldn't give me the time of day, of course. I was obsessed with her."

"Naturally."

"Give me a fucking break, okay?"

"Can't wait to hear how this ended."

"Not...great. I was a total dick."

You can say that again, you think.

"I was young. Real dumbass who thought he was hot shit."

"You still aren't."

"Shut the fuck up." Something twinges inside you at the hearty laughter the two of them share. You missed that laugh.

"Despite everything, it was the most stable relationship I've ever been in. We looked out for each other. She knew me better than some of my family does."

"How did you fuck that up, then?"

"I got too comfortable. Started thinking I could do better. God, what a fucking idiot I was. I loved her like crazy, but I didn't realize how good I had it until it was gone."

"She left you?"

"No. I was the one who ended things. In the worst way possible, too. I told her the relationship wasn't going to go anywhere, that we were never going to be a serious thing."

"Ouch. Why not?"

You squeeze your eyes shut. You remember that night, like a shard of glass buried in your chest. As hard as you tried to forget, you'll never forget the way you felt. Like the world was ending.

You'll never forget the decision you had to make.

"I told her I couldn't see myself with a beta long-term."

"...that's fucked up."

"I know. I know. I was too caught up in that shitty macho alpha mindset. I was fucking ravenous back then, and I thought only an omega could give me what I needed."

"I get it now. If I were her, I would have quit on the spot seeing you in that meeting room."

"Yeah. She's a better person than I can ever imagine being."

Well. It's nice to know he regrets it, you think. Not that it does you much good now. Quiet as a mouse, you make a quick exit before you can get caught.

You make it back to the the room you've been assigned to. They were nice enough to give you your own private quarters, something you deeply appreciate when you need to be alone with your own thoughts. Like right now.

It's a strange feeling, to sort of get closure like this. Not at the end, but at the beginning of something new. You still have to see each other. Does it help that you know how he feels? Maybe, but it doesn't ease your own guilt. In fact, it makes it worse.

You're not mad at him for telling Horangi. You're glad he did, actually. There are some secrets that cause more harm to keep than not.

You open a drawer and pull out the pill bottle, hidden underneath your other possessions, and stare at the label.

WARNING - SUPPRESSANTS. NOT TO BE USED BY ALPHAS. ONLY CONSUME UNDER PHYSICIAN SUPERVISION.

You would know.

BOOM! There you have it. (In case it wasn't clear, the suppressants are for omegas.)

@sprout-fics's omegaverse 141 headcanons series inspired me to write something based off the idea of an omega disguising themselves as a beta in the military. Please check out her series, it's great.

I was really into exploring how omegaverse dynamics can make complicated relationships even messier. I did consider writing this story without the omegaverse, but I think now it's kind of an essential element. (I also just. Want them to have crazy nasty omegaverse sex. Sue me) I can't picture König ever breaking up with someone he deeply loved and was obsessed with, unless he had a reason like that. Still not a great reason, but a little bit understandable. Eden being a disguised omega also adds a bit of spice to the exes-to-lovers arc, too: she could have just come out and told him she's not actually a beta, but she chose not to for the sake of her career. Oof. Ruthless judgement calls were made on both sides.

I put this out because this idea had me in a STRANGLEHOLD, and I just had to get it out before I burst. Hopefully my writing's still up to par 😅 As for Kingdom Come, part iii may take a little while longer because a lot is going to happen in it, so I hope this can tide you guys over until then.

As usual, comments and feedback are always appreciated! I would love to talk about this au more. And again, if you'd like to be tagged, drop a reply. And if you're in the taglist and would like to be removed/only tagged for Kingdom Come, please let me know!

@crowbird @poohkie90 @cumikering @iytatsworld @papaver-decervicatus @anxietyrain @riotakire @ax0lotly @cookiepie111 @kacchasu @no1runawaymilkdad @chthonian-spectre @backwards-readings @yxllowtxpe @garbau @hexqueensupreme @queenthorin1 @violetstyless @her-majesty-theking @vegan-peppermint @peonytarian @ghostslittlegf @euuuuuuun @e1x03 @kokonoiwife @deaddainish @dragonfang @teehee-47 @catluvwr @keiva1000 @waves-against-a-cliff @channelsoph @cutiecusp @itsagrimm @dins-riduur-anthe @mantishymns @lexuria

[uhohwhathaveidone]

hii I honestly really love your works and i really wanna read my imagination on a fanfic. So what if the reader just sleeps on sebastians bed, like they just returned after a long adventure then they had to research some of the stuff they found yada yada then the reader (fem if possible) just lays on his bed for a break but ends up sleeping there, next day she walks around hogwarts with sebastians smell and everyone just assumed they did the :)))) mc being flustered mess and tries to deny every accusations but sebastian just stands there smirking watching everything unfold.

dont ask why mc didn't shower (for story purposes pls)

Your wish is my command!

Not Helping (S.S)

I'm glad you enjoy! I might be posting the next fic a little late tomorrow, just so we know! Also, I put the reader into Slytherin, so she didn't have to sneak in, and also because Imelda needed a reason to embarrass the reader. Remember when Ominis spoke about having a toad? He's in here, like a little alarm clock <3 He's also tired of Sebastian, like always. Spot the fourth wall break too, here's a hint, it's not someone speaking, technically. I made a joke at myself lmao. Anyway, enjoy <3 (i listened to H.I.M the whole time i was writing)

      You waved your hand, gesturing Sebastian to follow you as you crouched behind a table. He quickly tiptoed over to you, handing you the book he had snatched from one of the library’s shelves, smiling as you put it into your bag. You looked around as you searched for the door, motioning Sebastian to follow you as you hid behind a shelf. “So far, so good.” Sebastian whispered, smiling. You smiled back as you shook your head. “Don’t jinx it!” He shrugged as he continued to follow you through the maze of tables and shelves of books, checking behind him every now and then to make sure no one spotted the two of you from behind. You stopped, holding your arm out as Sebastian hit it, stopping as you pressed a finger to your lips. He nodded as he ducked lower, following your finger as you pointed to Peeves. The poltergeist floated down a row of shelves across from you, humming to himself. You waited until he had moved somewhere else, tugging on Sebastian’s sleeve as you began your escape again.

      You breathed a sigh of relief as you quietly closed the door behind you, letting a yawn escape you. Sebastian smiled behind you, checking down the hall to see if there was anyone around. “Seems like we’re in the clear, let’s head back to the common room.” He whispered, walking down the hall. You nodded as you followed, reaching into your bag to take a look at the book you had taken. “What are your plans for this one?” You asked, studying the cover. It was about advanced potions, far more advanced than what you were studying now. He shrugged as he slowed down, walking beside you as he looked at the book in your hands. “Might be something of use in there, I didn’t exactly read it before snatching it, you know.” You shook your head as you placed the book back into your bag, yawning again as you turned down to another hall, the Slytherin common room at its end. “What time is it?” You asked, peeking out a window that you walked past. The stars hung in the dark sky, their bright glow unable to light the ground below them as the moon had disappeared, leaving the grounds of the castle invisible. Sebastian shrugged. “I didn’t take a look at the clock either, if that’s what you were hoping for.” You yawned again, watching Sebastian smile at you from the corner of your eye.

      “Let’s not have late-night heists in the future, yeah?” You said, walking into the common room. Sebastian scoffed as he followed behind you, stretching his arms. “It can’t be that late. Perhaps you should get more sleep.” You shook your head as you walked over to the clock. “I would, if you stopped dragging me along to do Merlin knows.” You squinted at the clock, the room was dark, only a single fire in a hearth emitting light. You sighed as you brought your wand out, casting Lumos as you went back to studying the clock. “Sebastian!” You hissed, narrowing your eyes at him as he raised his hands in defense. “It’s past midnight! We have class in the morning, as we had Ominis promise to wait for us so he could find out what was in the book!” Sebastian walked over, grabbing your shoulder as he inspected the clock himself. “That can’t be right, we didn’t spend that much time there, did we?” You shook your head, sighing as you moved to make your way to Ominis’ and Sebastian’s dorm. “It doesn’t matter anymore, let’s brief Ominis and get to bed.” “Yes Ma’am.”

      Ominis let out a frustrated sigh as the two of you walked into the room, arms crossed as he sat on his bed. “Took you two long enough, I figured you had gotten caught with how long you were gone.” He said, turning to the door. “Apologies, Ominis. Sebastian couldn’t figure out which book to pick.” You said, dropping your bag as you flopped onto Sebastian’s bed. Sebastian scoffed, reaching into your bag and pulling out the potions book, sitting down next to you as he flipped through the pages. “If you hadn’t been so scared of being caught, we would have been out earlier.” You shook your head as you rubbed your eyes. “Whatever you say, Sallow.”  Ominis let out another frustrated sigh as he threw a pillow, missing Sebastian as it hit you in the face. “Ominis! What was that for?” You said, picking up the pillow as you frowned. Ominis let a small smile grace his lips as he bowed his head slightly. “My apologies, I meant to hit Sebastian.” Sebastian, who had been quietly chuckling, quickly dropped his smile. “Hey! What did I do?” Ominis shrugged, accepting the pillow back from you as you walked back to Sebastian’s bed. “Just read something from the book, I want to go to bed soon.” You nodded in agreement, moving to the head of the bed and hiding under the covers as Sebastian flipped through the pages.

      “It says here, one of the most effective anti-venoms is the Draught of Living Death Antidote. This potion is particularly useful in countering the effects of the Draught of Living Death, a powerful sleeping potion that can render a person unconscious for days or even weeks.” Sebastian read, skimming down the page. You huffed in amusement, closing your eyes as you pulled the covers closer. “I could use one of those.” “The antidote or the potion itself?” “Both.” Ominis chuckled as he shook his head, hearing the slightly groggy tone in your voice as you tried to hide another yawn. Sebastian sighed, flipping through the pages. “Polyjuice potion, Wolfsbane, we’re not Werewolves, so we don’t need that.” You sighed as he continued to talk, shutting your eyes as the warm blankets beckoned you to sleep. “Ah, here’s one.” Sebastian said, reading from another page. “The Draught of Peace, a powerful calming potion that can ease anxiety and stress.” Ominis sighed, laying his head against his pillow. “Could use that during O.W.Ls, if you needed it.” Sebastian nodded, reading further. “Except there’s a problem.” “What’s that?” “The potion requires a careful balance of ingredients, including powdered moonstone, syrup of hellebore, and a measure of powdered unicorn horn. What even is a hellebore?” Ominis shrugged, covering his mouth as a yawn escaped him. “Y/n, would you be able to ask Poppy what that is?” Sebastian asked, turning to you.

      Soft snores escaped you as you laid in the bed, asleep. Sebastian frowned as he moved to look at your face, scrunching his nose in confusion. “How can you be asleep during this? This is good information!” You still didn’t respond, instead turning over in your sleep as you tried to get comfortable. “Ominis, she’s asleep! I haven’t even gotten far in the book yet.” Sebastian complained, watching Ominis as he too slipped under the covers. “I’m glad one of us is asleep. Perhaps we should pick this up later?” Sebastian scoffed, frowning as Ominis turned away from him. Sighing, he put the book back into your bag and looked over to you, unsure what to do. He couldn’t just kick you out of his bed and send you off to your own; not when you were already asleep. He bit the inside of his cheek as he furrowed his brows, slowly reaching his hand out to shake you awake.

      You glared at him through heavy eyes, sniffling as you tried to bury your face into the blankets. Sebastian smiled softly as he leaned over to whisper to you. “I won’t make you leave, but could you perhaps move over? This is still my bed, you know.” You stared at him, pondering his request. You shivered slightly as you shrugged, scooting over for Sebastian as he slipped under the covers. You closed your eyes again as you shivered, biting the inside of your cheeks as you quickly moved closer to Sebastian, burying your face into his shoulder as you tried to get warm. “You can’t be that cold.” He whispered, smirking at you. You huffed in response, beginning to move away from him before he rolled over, wrapping his arms around you. “Don’t need you freezing.” You hummed quietly, nuzzling your face into his chest as you fell back asleep; warm and comfortable.

      Sebastian slowly opened his eyes as sunlight poured through a window, yawning as he tried to blink away the sleep from his eyes. The room was quiet, save for the small snores escaping you and Ominis. Sebastian burrowed his face into your hair, finding you turned over with your back against him. He looked over at a nearby clock, squinting as he tried to read the time. You had about an hour until classes started. He pulled you closer as he stretched, squeezing you in an attempt to wake you. You groaned as you straightened your arms, a small yawn escaping you as you tried to go back to sleep. “It’s time to get up, we have classes soon.” He whispered, poking you in the cheek with his free hand. You shook your head, another yawn leaving you. “Not right now, perhaps a few more minutes.” You sighed, rolling over and burying your face into Sebastian again, hiding away from the light. Sebastian shook his head, looking over to where Ominis slept, light snores emerging from the bundle of blankets. “Fine, since we’re all still in bed, a few more minutes.” He sighed, closing his eyes as he tightened his arms around you.

      Ominis shook Sebastian awake as he tried to fix his tie, waking both of you up as he shouted. “Get up! I can’t believe you, keeping us up so late and not even having the courtesy to wake us up on time!” You sniffled, sitting up as you rubbed your eyes. “Ominis? What time is it?” Ominis sighed as he reached for his bag. “Late! We’d be lucky if we made it to class!” You looked over at the clock, quickly jumping out of bed and searching for your shoes and bag. Sebastian sat there, confused. “How do you know what time it is?” Ominis glared in his direction, scoffing. “In case you hadn’t noticed, my toad likes to have his own schedule. He’s been croaking for food for maybe ten minutes, and I always feed him right before we leave.” You smiled as you hopped around, trying to get your other shoe on. “I don’t have time for anything! No shower, no breakfast! Sebastian! Get up!” You shouted, almost falling over. He nodded quickly, slipping out of bed, and looking around. “I slept in my robes? I suppose I don’t have to worry about that then.” He said to himself, shrugging as he went for his shoes. You quickly slipped your bag over your shoulder, tapping your foot as you and Ominis waited at the door. “I’m coming, hold on!” Sebastian sighed, rubbing his eyes as he picked up his own bag, walking over to you.

      You quickly walked down the halls as you made your way to charms, following Ominis as he muttered to himself about Sebastian and his need to do things at such late hours. He quickly slipped into the classroom ahead, and you looked over to Sebastian as he yawned again. “Wait!” You whispered, grabbing his sleeve as you pulled him away from the door. “Can’t it wait? We’re right there.” He sighed, watching as you set your bag down. “Your tie! It’s a mess!” You said, quickly fixing it as you bit the inside of your cheek. Sebastian stiffened up, eyes wide as he watched you smooth out his robes and tie before nodding and pulling him into the classroom. You quickly took your seat next to Natty, smiling as she greeted you. Professor Ronen appeared just moments later, signaling the start of class.

      You sighed as you rested your head in your palm, holding back a yawn as you ate. Sebastian sat beside you, picking at his food as he glanced over at you, smirking as you shivered. “Getting a cold?” He asked, causing you to furrow your brows as you looked over at him. “Beg your pardon?” He chuckled as he poked your side. “You were awfully cuddly last night, shivering and all that. I’m not a doctor, but if you got me sick, I would make sure you suffered with me.” You shook your head, grabbing your drink and taking a sip. “So that’s where you were last night!” A voice sounded behind you, causing you to choke on your drink in surprise. Coughing, you turned around, frowning. “Imelda? What are you talking about?” Imelda looked between you and Sebastian, smirking. “When you passed by on your way to one of your classes, you smelled an awful lot like your friend here.” She said, gesturing to Sebastian. “Sebastian here has a distinct smell, like some sort of potion that he bathes in. Stinks up the whole common room, he does.” Sebastian frowned as he turned to Imelda. “I do not stink! I just naturally smell this nice.” Imelda shook her head, turning to you as she poked you in the chest. “You smell just like him, you know. Didn’t smell like that yesterday.” You felt your cheeks heat up as you glanced around, your fellow housemates nodding in agreement with Imelda. “I still don’t understand, Imelda.” You said, shaking your head as you looked up at her. Imelda held her smile as she leaned closer to you. “You didn’t come back to the dorm last night; your bed was still empty this morning.” You heated up more as your eyes widened. You hadn’t thought about what Imelda and your other dormmates would think if you didn’t show up in your bed, and now it was coming back to bite you.

      “What are you implying, then?” You asked, narrowing your eyes. Imelda shrugged nonchalantly, smirking down at you as she gestured to Sebastian. “What else is there to imply? Such a scandalous girl, you are. You’re not good at hiding it either.” Your eyes widened as your breath got caught in your chest, cheeks turning a bright red. “Imelda! That’s absolutely not what happened!” You shouted, shaking your head frantically. “Oh yeah? Then what else could it be? Because people don’t just smell like other people for no reason you know. Nor do they cuddle at night.” You stuttered as you tried to explain, looking over at Sebastian as he smirked into his drink. “We did not- why would you even suggest that? I only fell asleep while hanging out! It was nothing like that!” You smacked Sebastian’s shoulder, motioning for him to explain. He only shrugged, smirking. “You snore a lot, you know.” “That’s not helping, Sebastian!” Imelda smirked as you continued to stutter, crossing her arms as she nodded toward Sebastian. “Someone’s not denying it, so what’s your next excuse?” You frowned at Imelda, heart racing as you tried to clear up the misunderstanding. “Ominis was there! He was hanging out with us!” You said, pointing over to Ominis.

      Ominis nodded as he chewed his food. “She’s right. We were looking at a book, Sebastian decided that he wanted to stay up late. She fell asleep first.” Imelda quirked an eyebrow, smirking at you. “Couldn’t do it with your friend around? Sorry Ominis, but there’s no other explanation. Perhaps you were fast asleep?” Ominis scoffed as he shook his head. “As if. Sebastian fell asleep before I did. You think something like that would happen right next to me? I’d hex both of them.” You nodded your head as you shared an awkward smile. “See? Nothing happened! Mind out of the gutter, Imelda!” She shook her head as she patted your shoulder. She leaned down and whispered into your ear, poking your side. “You’ll need a better excuse next time. I expect you back tonight to tell us all about it.” She walked away, leaving you with your mouth open as you tried to comprehend what had just happened.

      “Sebastian! Look what you’ve done!” You whispered, swatting at his shoulder as he went for another bite of his lunch. He shrugged as he looked over at you. “I didn’t do anything.” “Exactly!” Ominis shook his head as he took a sip of his drink. “I mean it, you two.” Sebastian frowned, furrowing his eyebrows as he turned to Ominis. “Mean what, exactly?” “That I’ll hex you both if you tried something like that near me. My toad could use some friends.” “That’s not going to happen, Ominis!” “Not yet.” “Shut! Up! Sebastian!”

[rendy-a]

amh if possible could hoy make hdcns for the dorm leaders ( separately ) reacting to their mc fem explaining the marvel universe and then puts them to watch the movies hehe ( ..also mc's fav hero is dead-pool ;) bc it gives me laugh imagine their reactions about this xd) , thanks in advance and take care<33

This certainly ended up being a little bit of a crack fic but it ended up amusing. Hope you enjoy it.

At first, he scoffs as such a time-wasting thing as wanting to watch dozens of movies.  Where is the educational value in this?

He is just too polite to refuse to listen, so he’ll end up letting you describe all your favorite scenes to him.

You are better off if he doesn’t take an interest because, if he does, he is going to turn into the worst sort of comic book geek.  Be ready to have him quote lore from issues of source material at you during any discussion on this from now on.

What do you mean who would win?  In Volume 3 #3, Thor clearly defeated Iron Man.  Don’t get upset Prefect, I don’t write the lore, I just recite it.

Doesn’t appear to be interested but, if you pause long enough, he’ll prompt you to go on.  It’s important to you, so he’ll try to care at least a little.

You’d never tell him this, but you love to banter with him because it reminds you of your favorite character.  Sometimes you wonder if he’d be pleased or offended to know who you remind him of.

Movie marathons?  Not only is he willing to do them with you, but he is also often the one who suggests them.  Don’t be deceived though, it’s not for the movie but for the quality nap time on the couch with you. 

Don’t turn that off, Herbivore, I’m watching it.  What do you mean I don’t know what’s going on?  This is the part where we learn her mom isn’t dead after all.  So quiet down and keep the lights off.

Please, he is in Board Game Club with Idia. You think this is the first time he has hmmm’d himself through a conversation about fictional characters?

Wait, you say that this makes a ton of money?  Tell him more about this merchandising and licensing.  Especially that, what do you call it…ah, Happy Meal.

You can eventually talk him into watching the movies with you for ‘research purposes.’  When you do, you can’t help but notice how teary-eyed he gets at the sad scenes.  He’s just so sensitive!

Deadpool is also his favorite character.  He feels a sort of connection to certain parts of his story.

So, she chooses to stay with him even though he looks like that?  No, I’m not blubbering.  No, I don’t need you to cuddle with me.  Ok, fine.  Just for a little while. 

He doesn’t get it, but he still loves it.  Sure, you have to explain everything to him three times, but he gets excited over your excitement.  Call him any time to talk about your theories on how things would have gone if Thanos had made a different wish on the infinity gauntlet.  He doesn’t mind if it’s 3 AM (just don’t let Jamil find out).

Movie marathons turn into parties.  Why just watch the movies when you can have themed snacks and dress up too?  Hulk smash cakes and Black Widow berry cobbler?  Yes, please.

His favorite part of any film is the soundtrack.  If he hears a song he likes, he gets up to dance along.  It’s pretty disruptive when you are watching the movie but when you see how much fun he is having, you find you don’t really mind after all.

Sorry Prefect, Jamil says we can’t have dance battles in Scarabia anymore.  Ooh!  But come by the Pop Music Club later.  I’m going to play all my favorite songs for Cater and Lilia. Ahaha!

You were worried Vil would dismiss your favorite Marvel films as inferior art, but he is actually rather generous about it.  He believes the film should suit the audience and, as so, there is nothing wrong with films like this that serve to entertain the masses.

Still, he can’t help but be critical of everything while you watch.  He doesn’t criticize the things you’d talk about with your friends but topics you’d hardly even notice while you watched like the set design and lighting.

You notice Vil seems secretly fond of Loki.  You think the idea of the Villain that survives the main movies to get his own spotlight series appeals to him.

No, Potato, I’m just saying the angle isn’t right for this sort of tone.  A shot from below would be more effective.  Plus…wait, are you having more popcorn?  I don’t think so, it’s past the time you can snack before bed.

You had expected Idia to be all in on the Marvel Universe but, at first, he is oddly resistant to it.  He’d rather recommend you one of his own favorite hero movies.  If you disagree on which is better, he is more than willing to fight with you over why his is best!

After a heated argument, he puts on some of the movies to watch so he can come up with targeted points about why his own shows are better.  This does not work out for him as he gets sucked in himself.  Next time you meet up, he wants to go over tiny bits of lore and speculate on future plot lines from hints in the past movies.

You might think his favorite would be Iron Man because they both are innovative engineers, but he is a fan of Ant Man.  Shrinking down to a size where you can hide from everyone; it’s an introvert’s dream!

Prefect, this is serious business!  I’ve drawn up plans.  So long as we sleep only 2 hours a day and avoid taking any breaks for food, studying, and showers, we can finish at least three seasons this weekend.  True fans like us need to be ready to sacrifice for the shows we love!

There are many things Tusnotarou doesn’t understand, and this is one of them.  For starters, he barely knows how to use his smartphone, let alone how to stream movies and shows.  So, before you can even start explaining the plot, you must explain the whole concept of series and interconnecting shows to him.

He doesn’t get it, but he is happy to watch with you.  Your reactions to the show are far more amusing to him than the actual show.  Plus, he feels like he learns so much about the human world from your conversations.  A subway, how intriguing an idea.  Humans are so fascinating.

Even though he watches politely, he isn’t very impressed.  They can fly?  Well so can he.  Magic, lightning, superstrength?  All just part of being a dragon.  Perhaps instead of being interested in these superheroes, you’d rather learn more about him?

 Lilia, do you think I am a superhero?  The Prefect has been explaining this concept to me in great detail lately.  I can’t help but notice the many things I have in common with these so-called heroes.  Why yes, Lilia, now that you mention it, I am wearing a cape.  Another point in my favor. Fu fu fu.    

[prime-adeptus]

EX MACHINA – DOTTORE X READER

Not once have you strayed from your true purpose—if this is what your creator made you for, then you will fulfil it until your body breaks down.

CONTENT.⠀18+ only, minors dni. HORROR / DARK CONTENT UNDER THE CUT; gender-neutral reader; unhealthy relationship, psychological and emotional manipulation, possessive and obsessive behaviour, non-consensual body modification, conditioning and mindfuck, drugging, kidnapping, sadism, descriptions of anxiety attacks. Dottore is simply referred to as “The Doctor.” DEAD DOVE: DO NOT EAT | ~2.5k words

A/N.⠀dedicated to my beloved @hiperacid2! this is my first horror/dark fic and it was challenging to write, but i hope you like it, my fellow kindred and kuro hater (/j) // @angelshub @bitchcraftinc @kentocidal

CROSS-POSTED ON AO3

You follow his orders.

If the Doctor tells you to kill, you do so in cold blood. If he tells you to steal something for him, you bring him everything he needs. If he is not pleased with you, you recalibrate and retry the next time he needs you. Like a dog obeys its master, you obey your creator and he rewards you with his praise. Not once have you strayed from your true purpose—if this is what your creator made you for, then you will fulfil it until your body breaks down.

The halls of Zapolyarny Palace’s science wing are silent save for the sound of your footfalls and the occasional murmur from lower-ranked Fatui agents pass by. They do not look into your eyes nor do they greet you. It is not important whether or not they greet you. An agent’s purpose is to do the duty given to him, much in a similar vein to yours, and it is his responsibility not to be hindered by trivial things. The coat you’re wearing covers the lower half of your face and is heavy enough to withstand the unforgiving winters of Snezhnaya, but even then, the air within the walls is cold.

For a reason you haven’t been able to find yet, your body seems to be having difficulties regulating its temperature recently. Perhaps you’d ask the Doctor if he could fix the issue when he’s less occupied with his latest project.

The doors to his laboratory slide open the moment it detects your facial features. It’s dark inside the laboratory; the sun has not yet risen, the only light at this time of day comes from the main city, and frost settles on the glass panes of the window. As you enter, you find that the Doctor is hunched over his desk and that the room is in complete disarray. Papers are scattered across the floor. Beakers and other glassware have shattered into pieces, some of their contents spilling out on documents the Doctor spent hours organising. Your gaze scans every corner and you reach for your sword, about to unsheathe but stop when he speaks up.

“Ah, you’re here, Seven.” He drums his fingers on the surface of the desk, the telltale sign of his impatience. A sigh leaves his lips as he turns around to face you, his lips pursed in dissatisfaction. “Seven, my dear Seven, my prized unit 70-Y…”

He steps closer and closer until your faces are mere inches apart and you are staring directly into his mask. There is a strange sensation that travels across your system and once more the temperature beneath your skin spikes in pinpricks of static. Your ears are ringing, your hands are beginning to shake but they’re out of your control. You can’t comprehend what type of error it is and it only gets worse with each passing second. It can’t be an error; the Doctor never makes any mistakes, so it must be a flaw on your end.

“D-Doctor?” you stammer—another error you don’t recognise. “What… What happened?”

“You’ve grown incompetent,” he replies. You can’t tell whether he sees you malfunctioning in front of him or if he’s simply ignoring it for the matter at hand. “My commands for you were quite simple, were they not?”

Your lips part as you try to respond, but no words come out.

“You don’t understand.” It’s more of a statement than it is a question. “My research has been stolen, Seven. You’ve failed your mission in keeping my laboratory exclusive to us.”

“I’m sorry, Doctor,” you say, your voice barely above a whisper. You try to continue, but your body is unstable, swaying until you find yourself falling to the ground. Your legs don’t move the way you need them to; it’s as though they’ve become rubber and can no longer hold your weight. Weakly, you push yourself up into a sitting position and look up at him. Your vision blurs and instinctively you narrow your eyes to try to focus, to reach out to him. “I…”

“You don’t feel well, do you?”

You can’t see him clearly. Something is different about his tone—the irritation has transitioned into something akin to amusement like he’s aware of something that you aren’t. You don’t understand. You don’t feel. That’s something only humans and animals are capable of. He despises having a human assistant; he needs something beyond human, so he created you. It is the only information about your ‘birth’ that you know. 

He lets out another sigh, tone dripping with annoyance once again. “What a bore.”

You detect him staring down at you in the same way he does with his failed projects. You have witnessed firsthand what he does to some of them. They’d get abandoned, their lifeless bodies piled atop each other until it was time for them to get disposed of. Emotions are unknown to you—it’s an area you haven’t explored, but when he ordered you to disassemble all of them with your own hands, you wondered if it could be compared to what humans describe as fear.

Irked and impatient, he clicks his tongue. “Find the thief and kill them. Do not fail me again.” He strides past you and toward the doors, ready to leave but not before he spares you a displeased glance over his shoulder. “And clean this up. You know I hate clutter.”

The Doctor does not return to his laboratory after the incident. 

For the past couple of days, you’ve been trying to find the Doctor so you could report your findings but he’s nowhere to be seen. While it’s not unusual for him to go off somewhere without a word, it is out of routine that he doesn’t have you follow him. If he has been sent on a mission by the Tsaritsa, you would know either from himself or one of his segments. You consider asking his fellow Harbingers, but you have also been forbidden from interacting with any of them aside from the Director. All there is to do is your objective and the disposal of the culprit as soon as you can.

The investigation has been difficult. There are no fingerprints you can scan, no notably suspicious trails left behind, and not enough of anything to form a hypothesis. All you know is that the Doctor’s journals are no longer where they are supposed to be. You consider interrogating the guards but decide against it. They cannot provide useful information, not when the responsibility for surveillance is yours. 

The only thing clear so far is the motive. Whoever broke into the laboratory needed the Doctor’s notes for a reason, whether it was to expose the moral ambiguity of his experiment or to take an idea for themself. Yet there is no evidence of a break-in; the windows aren’t broken and the security system hasn’t been tampered with. If the culprit truly had intentions of stealing or exposing him, they would’ve taken his most valuable research of all: his studies of the Gnoses. The door to his private library remains locked as well, which simultaneously proves the point and does nothing at all. 

You walk through the halls of the palace in silence, attempting to note anyone with suspicious behaviour to no avail. Every face starts to look the same, every voice seems to be monotonous, and the static buzzing beneath your skin returns once again. The discomfort seems to increase with every passing minute of inactivity. Your body feels heavy as if you’re slowly shutting down, out of energy. Have you neglected your self-maintenance? Why have there been errors in your system today?

No matter. Those aren’t of concern now—you’ve been given a mission to complete and you can’t fail him again.

Setting your destination to the laboratory, you decide to do another investigation. There must have been something you missed. A bloodstain, a fingerprint, anything the culprit could’ve left behind in their wake. As you make your way inside, you spot something on the Doctor’s desk that wasn’t previously there: a newspaper. It doesn’t appear to be recent; the date on the corner of the page indicates it’s over a year old.

That’s unusual, you note. He doesn’t like to keep anything unrelated to his work and research. 

The article seems to be about an aristocratic family’s activities which makes it all stranger considering his disdain for them. ‘The patriarch, 47, has now become a priest at the Church of Celestia. His heir did not attend the ceremony, most likely due to their dispute with their father earlier this year,’ it says. The names written in the article are mostly unknown, but as you continue to read, you find that something is off.

One of the people in the images looks just like you. Could it be that the Doctor modelled you after them? And if their reputation precedes them just as much as the article describes it, why haven’t you heard of them?

The newspaper nearly rips in half from how hard you clench your fists. You don’t understand why you did it. You aren’t supposed to have a physical reaction. You aren’t supposed to malfunction, and yet your system is out of your control again, the odd sensations spreading across your skin like frost does to water. There is something wrong with you, with everything. But there isn’t supposed to be���he wouldn’t lie to you, would he?

“So, have you figured it out yet?”

The Doctor steps into the laboratory with his arms crossed behind his back, walking with confidence and satisfaction. His expression melts into a scowl when he approaches you. “Hm. Your optical cybernetics aren’t working well anymore. You should’ve been able to detect me coming in.”

“There wasn’t a thief,” you whisper shakily.

“That’s right!” He grins. “And the heir?”

You choke out, “I… I don’t know.”

It couldn’t be you. No. It’s not possible. You’re an android created by the Doctor, the second of the Harbingers. You’re his assistant, his servant. You have always been here with him.

“Has my precious assistant gained sentience?” he coos mockingly, “A flaw in your code, perhaps? An error or a malfunction?”

“That can’t be,” you breathe. You’re suddenly aware of how unfamiliar it is to inhale and exhale, and how it feels as though there’s something lodged in your throat that is suffocating you. “Y-You made me. You never make mistakes.”

He ignores your words as he smiles at you wickedly, his eyes widening. “Isn’t it fascinating to discover something new? To feel something new?”

“How…”

You feel weak. Exhausted. Everything hits you like a storm and you can’t even figure out what any of them are; all you know is that you are afraid. The same man who built you will be the same man to break you.

“I’ve replaced some of your organs with artificial ones. Not sure what you’re missing here.” He feigns annoyance and clicks his tongue, a sound you’ve found to make you feel overloaded. There’s too much happening, too many truths, too many lies. You don’t know what to believe.

“W-Why?”

“Why?” He laughs as if your devastation is humorous to him. His voice echoes throughout the room in a way that makes your skin crawl. “To sate my curiosity, of course! And, well, I have a… fascination with you, Seven. Or should I say—” his laughter dies down and he leans forward, the smile never leaving his face. Then he says a name—your true name, and everything comes crashing down once again. 

It’s too much. It hurts. Your breathing is out of order, your mind (you have a mind) is in tatters and all you can do is wail as he rejoices in your torment. There’s a stinging sensation in your palms; when you look down, you find that you are bleeding from how hard your nails have been digging into your skin. Out of fear, you scream and cry until your voice is hoarse, until your energy has been drained, until there is nothing left. When you’re finally quiet and sobbing sporadically, the Doctor kneels beside you and pulls your hair back, forcing you to crane your head to look up at him.

He grins. “I suppose I can consider this hypothesis to be true.”

A sharp, biting pain pierces your neck. The world around you spins and slowly disappears behind a haze. Your limbs feel weak, boneless. Your body succumbs to the poison in your veins, and as you fall farther and farther from the light, the void takes you in its embrace.

You are alone with a woman you don’t know. She is the very epitome of holiness, bringing you warmth and comfort, but there is a sorrowful air about her. You try to ask, try to talk to her, but you can’t speak. With a smile, she holds you in her arms like a mother cradles her child, and she cries. She mourns for her child as droplets of her tears land on your skin, a mark of her grief. She whispers apologies to you, tells you that home doesn’t feel the same, and you mourn together with her over the loss of her only child.

Your world shifts, and you find yourself with a serpent. 

It hisses at the air, bares its fangs to something you can’t see. It wraps itself around your frame and softly nudges your cheek with its head, an attempt to comfort you when there is nothing but its presence and yours. It speaks to you in a language you can’t understand with its forked tongue. It coils around your throat when you sleep, both a warning and a reassurance that it won’t leave you alone.

You feel fondness and fear for it at the same time.

Your eyelids slowly flutter as the lid of your sleep pod slides open, exposing you to the bright lights of the room. A masked man is sitting beside you, his lips curved into a joyous smile when he sees that you’re awake. Something is familiar about him, but you can’t quite put your finger on it.

You feel strange, like you’re forgetting something. It doesn’t make sense. How can you search for a memory you’re not even sure exists? You want to ask, but a glance downwards steals away your attention. Your hands — they’re mechanical, sleek and black metal that goes up to your elbows. Your fingers are long and sharp, undoubtedly made to be weapons. Curiously, you bring it to your eye level to take a closer look; they resemble claws with their pointed tips and sharp edges.

“My dear Artiglio,” he says, watching as you push yourself up into a sitting position. “Are you ready for your first mission?”

Of course. How could you have forgotten?

You serve the Doctor, your creator. With the gift of life and lethality he bestowed upon you, your purpose is clear.

If the Doctor tells you to kill, you do so in cold blood. If he tells you to steal something for him, you bring him everything he needs. If he is not pleased with you, you recalibrate and retry the next time he needs you.

You follow his orders.

[cryingatwindermerepeaks]

i take your little april likes small spaces and i raise you a fic where she finds a new spot to hide that's extra cozy and comfy (regressed to her youngest or second youngest headspace at this point). she ends up falling asleep, because she's happy and safe. cue everyone looking for her, bc she's not where anyone else thinks her to be. they find her, still asleep of course, and are all relieved. she wakes up and everyone decides it's snack time (no scolding as she didn't mean to scare them on purpose)

Little!April Ludgate - Hide and Seek

changed it up a little bit because this request was super super similar to something I’d already started writing (anon are you a mind reader?) anyway, hopefully you don’t mind :D

Word count: 900

——————————

“You close your eyes and I’ll hide,” April instructed Andy who was spinning around on a wheely chair.

“What do I count to?” Andy asked, immediately perking up at the idea of playing April’s favourite game.

“As high as you possibly can,” April grinned, bouncing on the balls of her feet. Andy nodded eagerly and covered his eyes as he began to count. April was really, really good at hiding but recently even her best hiding spots had gotten repetitive enough for Andy to find her. She decided the best course of action to uphold her position as the best hider in all of city hall was to venture up to the fourth floor. It was perfect. Andy would never think to look for her there and there were so many good, creepy hiding spots to find! She made her way up the elevator, not missing the opportunity to press all the buttons, and snuck her way into an empty office. She practically squealed with excitement when she saw an empty cupboard. She climbed inside, the cupboard smelling like dust and old wood but the small space felt safe and cozy. Above all it was an amazing hiding spot.

Andy managed to count all the way to 57 before he got bored and lost count, then he counted to 24, and then he counted to 60. All up he thought April had plenty of time to hide. Not that she needed it, April was the best hider. He began checking all her best places. Under desks, in Ann’s office, under the outside tables, under the chairs at the shoe shine stand. She was nowhere to be found. He started looking more frantically in other places. He felt like he had looked through every inch of their floor. An awful thought dawned on him, he’d lost the baby. He became quite panicked, researching everywhere he’d been before he finally gave in and reluctantly went to find help. Leslie and Ben were eating lunch in Leslie’s office and Andy knocked on the door. “Andy, hey buddy,” Leslie greeted perkily. Andy entered the office, looking nervously between the three grownups.

“Is everything ok?” Ben asked, quieter than Leslie. Andy sniffled, hot tears pooling in his eyes. He’d messed up so bad.

“April’s,” he started before the guilty tears started streaming down his cheeks. “April,” he hiccuped sadly, rubbing at his teary face.

“Come sit here kiddo,” Leslie cooed gently, patting the spare chair next to her. Andy slumped down in the chair with a heavy sigh. “Take a deep breath for me.” Leslie’s voice was calm but certain as she took Andy’s hands and guided him through three deep breaths. “That’s it, good boy,” Leslie cooed as Andy took three over exaggerated deep breaths.

“Ok Andy, can you tell us what happened with April?” Ben asked gently once Andy had calmed down.

“We were playing hide and seek and then I couldn’t find her,” Andy explained, his voice descending back into tears when he finished.

“Ok, it’s ok,” Ben promised. “We’ll find her, she won’t have gone far.” Andy nodded and Leslie gently wiped his tears away.

“Come on, we’ll be faster together.” Leslie took Andy’s hand so they could start looking while Ben instructed the rest of the department on where to look.

After another ten minutes even Leslie was starting to lose hope. “Ok Andy, where does April like to hang out when she’s small at work hm? Let’s start there.” Andy thought for a moment,

“Uh, the shoe shine stand, her desk, the fourth floor,”

“The fourth floor!” Ben exclaimed as if it was the most obvious thing in the world. The three of them quickly made their way up to the dreaded level. From there it wasn’t hard at all to conclude that April would’ve immediately gone into the creepy looking empty office. Andy threw the cupboard doors open. April was curled up in the cupboard fast asleep with her thumb planted firmly in her mouth. Andy quickly threw his hand up over his mouth so as not to make a loud noise and wake her. Ben and Leslie both looked in too, letting out sighs of relief as they saw the sleeping girl.

“Hey Pril,” Ben cooed softly, rubbing the girl's shoulder softly to wake her up. April whined and peered her eyes open sleepily.

“Found you,” Andy whispered triumphantly. Through half open eyes April looked between Leslie and Ben,

“You had help,” She yawned, reaching for Ben. Ben helped her out of the cupboard and pulled her into his arms.

“You gave us quite the fright,” Leslie smiled softly, running a hand through April’s hair. April mumbled sorry around her thumb, burying her face sleepily against Ben’s shoulder. “It’s alright, let’s just keep hide and seek to our floor in the future, ok little bat?” April nodded. Andy hugged April tightly for a few moments before quickly becoming distracted.

“Can we have snacks now? Seeking makes me hungry.” Ben laughed affectionately and Leslie ruffled his hair.

“How does that sound April? Snacks?” Ben asked the sleepy little.

“Nacks,” April nodded.

They headed back to the safety of their own floor where the littles were set up with juice boxes (apple for Andy and blackcurrant for April) and some cookies that Ann had dropped by in the morning (choc chip and the best in all of city hall).

[mi-i-zori]

Writing Resources - Masterlist

This masterlist will host the links to the posts and threads I've saved as writing resources. None of them are mine - all the credits go to the amazing people who made them.

Characters

Author, Narrator, Protagonist, Hero... Who is What ?

Creating Black Characters With Intent

Describe Your Main Character Sheet

Emotionally Reserved Characters

Flaws to Give to Your Characters

How to Introduce Your Character In 3 Steps

How to Show Emotions (They have a whole series for this, please go check it out !)

How to Write a Character Who's in Pain

How to Write Trauma With Humanity

Open Letter from a Poc for People Who Are Writing Characters of Colour

Questions for Crafting Problematic Characters

Tips : Nail Your Character's Mannerisms and Speech Pattern Down

Top-Tier Villain Motivations

What Will Your Character Do If...

Fantasy

Fantasy Guide to Education

Make and Interesting Wedding Dress in Your Fantasy Setting

Reasons Why Can't Your Characters Use Magic To Fix Everything

Some Locations and Structures to Include in Your Forest

What No One Tells You About Writing Fantasy

Good to Know

A quick Guide to Animal Symbolism

An Introduction to Small World Theory

Differences Between UK and USA Military Dog Tags

How Boat Pronouns Work

Medical Facts that are Commonly Overlooked

Medieval Dyes

Playing Music With a Bow! (The Archery Kind)

Realistic Travel Time

Roles on a Pirate Ship

Slater's Impromptu List of Military Reference Material

Sick/Poisoning Fics

Stop Doing This in Injury Fics !

Symbolism in Writing

The Anatomy of Passing Out : When, Why and How to Write It

The Anatomy of Punching a Character in the Face

The Symbolism of Flowers

Ultimate List of Weapons and Arsenal for Fantasy Setting: Purpose and Who Uses Them

What's the Deal With Archers and Animal Companions ?

Horror

Creepy Things to Add to Settings

Horror and Comedy : 90/10 rule

How to Write Creepy Stories

How To Scare Your Readers

Most Common Character Flaws in Horror Fiction

"Never Were" and "Used to Be" Monsters

People Get Eldritch Madness Wrong

Romance

When the Romantic Tension is High

Tips

If You're Starving in a Post-Apocalyptic Fic

How to Make Your Writing Less Stiff

Pep-Talk - You Are Allowed to Be Proud of What You Write + List of YT Channels and Amazon Links for Writing

Resources About Survival in the Wild

Skip Google for Research

Some Writing Advice

The Neurodivergent Writer’s Guide to Fun and Productivity

Write Smarter, Not Harder

Writing Tip : Research

Vocabulary

Aesthetic Words to Fill Up Your Vocabulary

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Mii's Blog Recommendations

@deception-united - I love the resources this person shares ! They have a masterpost that lists their useful posts, but they also complete some of these posts as answers to asks and reblog a lot of other resources.

@leisureflame - This blog has a lot of resources, advice and prompts ! The author also offers to help with other people's struggles too, which is immensely wholesome in itself.

@writers-potion - This blog has tons of amazing posts to help writers with their research. I keep coming back to it, and highly recommend checking it out ! Here are this person's extremely useful Masterpost (1) and Masterpost (2).

[slytherinsomniari]

A Breaking Point Like No Other| Aesop Sharp x F! Reader

Pairing: Aesop Sharp x F! Reader

Summary: In your last semester at Hogwarts, an encounter with your Potions Professor in the restricted section gets heated, prompting an invitation from the man himself for a whole lot more.

Word Count: 3187

Themes: Smut, teasing, fingering, orgasm denial, cock warming, student/teacher

A/N: Okay, so I made a headcanon where Sharp secretly took a potion that would temporarily relieve the pain in his leg, making it easier for him to have sex in this fic. Idk how else he would without feeling pain in that leg lol I kind of feel like the sex scene is too short but I honestly don’t know what else to write and didn’t want to write too much and make the fic feel cluttered. 

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Potions was your favorite class, but it wasn’t because you loved making potions, though that part was both relaxing and stress-inducing. No, you loved potions class because your favorite professor taught it–Professor Sharp. His gruff attitude had scared many off but he did have quite a few admirers despite this. You were one of these many admirers and had long fantasized about him. You couldn’t do anything of course, but you were in your last semester so you did toy with the thought of confessing before you left Hogwarts and never saw him again.

You went to your last class of the day–Defence Against the Dark Arts–and spent a challenging time learning Bombarda Maxima and how to cast it properly without blowing up everything around you. It was difficult but you got the hang of it at last and nearly perfected it when class was dismissed. As you headed out, you made your way towards the library. Thankfully, Madame Scribner had allowed you access to the restricted section as you had proven to her that you liked to research the things found in hidden books for pure knowledge, not for practice or for nefarious purposes. The idea of learning something new and strange excited you, making you walk a bit more excitedly towards the section.

You walk further and further into the section, walking down some stairs and through a few gates until you find a narrow hallway filled with books and begin to walk down it when you see a silhouette becoming clearer and clearer as you approach. The silhouette takes form and materializes as a familiar face. You didn’t expect to bump into Professor Sharp in the restricted section but there he was. Even if you wanted to, you couldn’t hide. Making sure you didn’t look startled or off put, you continued walking and stopped near him, calling out to him, “I didn’t expect to see you here Professor.”

He turns towards you with a look of surprise, clearly not expecting you to be there either. 

“Ah, Miss Y/N.  I assume you’re not here to revise for your N.E.W.T.s?”

“Um, no sir. But I am revising alongside this! I just like to research subjects that interest me outside of the curriculum” You say, trying to recover from your blunder. 

“Hmm, good. I admire your constant pursuit of knowledge, but try not to put aside your studies in favor of your extracurriculars.”

“Y-yes sir!”

Chuckling, he changes the topic. “I noticed you have been spending more time with the Sallow boy. I do hope his disregard for the rules doesn’t influence you too much. Can’t have you ruining your reputation and failing before graduation.” 

You perk up. You hadn’t expected him to continue the conversation, let alone talk to you. Even more, he was being friendly with you–and that was saying something, as the two of you had never really talked that much in class. He had gone over to your cauldron to check on how your potion was going, but he did that to everyone else. He would also give you words of praise, words that would bring a blush to your cheeks, but again he did, occasionally, give others praise. Him being friendly now outside of class was, quite frankly, only making you more hopeful for a mutual affection for one another–though there was still some doubt in that regard.

“I won’t let that happen. Sebastian is a good friend and we haven’t done anything wrong.” A fib at best, you tried to stand up for your friend. He’d been there for you and you for him, and despite the two of you getting into trouble because of his ideas, you were fiercely loyal to him.

“While I certainly trust your judgment, I don’t quite trust his. Just make sure you don’t get into too much trouble.”

“I will, professor.” Sensing the lack of things to talk about, you ended the conversation and attempted to find a book that piqued your interest, kneeling down to look at the bottom shelf. There was a peaceful silence for a time but it was disrupted when you heard a sigh. Turning slightly, you see Professor Sharp with a curious expression on his face. He appeared to be conflicted about something but you couldn’t tell what. You turned back and continued to look for a book, pulling your hair out of the way and putting it all on one side, leaving your neck exposed. He inhales, and chuckling softly, mutters underneath his breath. 

“You really are going to be my downfall, aren’t you?”

Frowning, you turn to him and say, “Did you say something sir?”

He looks at you for a moment, questioning what he’s about to do. With eyes full of a hunger you could not see, he chooses his path. 

“Are you really here to research, Y/N, or are you here for something else?”

Not waiting for you to respond, he continues, “It appears to me you may have some…ulterior motive in coming here. I tend to come here to spend my time researching and never see you here and yet here you are now. Am I to understand that it is simply a coincidence? That you are simply choosing a book over what you’re really here for? No, I believe you came here with one goal in mind.”

Committing himself to this line of questioning, he approaches you confidently and swiftly. He slams his arm against the shelf, trapping you there against his body. You could feel the heat radiating from him, causing your skin to prickle in arousal. He tilts your chin up with one hand, speaking in a hushed but seductive tone, “I believe you have set yourself in my path, knowing full well your affect on me. Your constant teasing in class only to play the meek school girl when we are alone is enough to drive me mad. Now I find you here, alone, open and ready for me. How much longer are you going to tempt me?”

“Sir…” You softly mutter, hands on his chest, clutching his shirt in your trembling fists. Your legs were weak, craving his touch and to be dominated by him. He moves his hand from your chin to your waist, holding you to him and increasing the pressure on you, forcing you to feel how erect he was. You really had nowhere to escape now, your professor made sure of that. You could only breathe heavily, showing him how ready you truly were for him. 

The arm that was holding you to him went lower, making you gasp as his hand stopped on your ass and squeezed. You turned your eyes towards his and it seemed like time stopped. It was only a few moments but in that time, you had lifted your head to his and he had lowered his to yours, and the two of you had locked lips. He placed his hands on your face, deepening the already passionate kiss. It felt like fireworks inside you as you realized what was happening. You were finally kissing the man you had had a crush on for so long, and he had wanted to do the same for a long time.

He lifted you by the waist and you jumped, wrapping your legs and arms around him and continuing the kiss. You ran your fingers through his hair as he moved with the force of the motion. His back hit a shelf on the opposite side of the hall and he slid down, forcing you to sit on his lap. Your underwear was wet from all of what happened and Sharp could feel it through his clothes. His member poked through his pants and you could feel it pressing up against your entrance. You moaned lightly, slowly grinding against it and drawing a pained grunt from him as he tried to resist tearing off your clothes. You were so close to being ravished by him but even you knew this was not where you would want that to happen. There were too many ways for you to get caught, even in an abandoned area of the restricted section.

Blinking, you took in the situation once more. His hands gripped your waist and you were on his lap, clothing ruffled and arms around his neck. In the silence a gate was heard opening in the distance and soon after another opened, though it was much closer. At the sound of someone quickly approaching, the two of you shot up, trying to fix your appearances before they saw you in a compromising position. Your face was flushed and you were shaking a little, but besides that, you looked fine. 

The person turned a corner, entering a different section of the library and missing you entirely. Breathing a sigh of relief, you started to get ready to leave but were stopped by him. Before he left, Professor Sharp came up to you and put his mouth to your ear, speaking quietly, “Meet me in my room in the faculty tower at midnight. Don’t be late.”

And with that, he left, leaving you incredibly giddy and lustful, deep in thought for what was going to happen that night. You left quickly, not wanting to attract attention to yourself for staying down there for too long and went to your dorm to pass the time.

Later that night, you quickly made your way to Sharp’s room, making sure you were not detected by any of the prefects or lingering adults. You quietly knocked on his door and he let you in. He was still in his work uniform but he had taken off his coat, blazer, and vest, leaving him in a white button up and loosened tie. Blushing, you turn to look at the room instead, noticing how huge it was. It was so much bigger than the dormitory and it felt quite cozy and relaxed. While you were distracted, Sharp was muttering something outside the room and entered after a moment, closing the door behind him.

After observing you, he turns to you and declares, “You don’t have to worry about the sound. I have placed a silencio charm on the outside of this room–no one will be able to hear you.”

You shudder at his words, ready for the fun to begin. He steps forward until he is right in front of you and grabs a lock of your hair, twirling it around in his fingers.

“From now on, when we are alone you are to call me either sir or Aesop. Understood?”

You meekly nodded your head, becoming mute in your longing for him. After receiving the response he desired, he took off his tie and his shirt but left his pants on. You could see his muscled body entirely and greatly wanted to grab onto him and feel him all over. Turning his attention to you, he begins to undress you. He takes off your skirt, taking the underwear down with it and begins to loosen your tie. Once loosened, he pulls you to him, placing teasingly quick kisses on your lips as he both pulled and pushed you. Once you got too close to giving in he would pull away, making you beg for more. Eventually, he gets rid of the tie and unbuttons your shirt, throwing it aside and exposing your breasts. His gaze pierces your soul, letting you feel how badly he wanted to ravish you. Instead, he swiftly picks you up and walks over to his bed, promptly throwing you on it.

Sharp gets on the bed and removes your socks, spreading your legs open for him. He takes one leg and kisses it, leaving a trail starting from your ankle. He gets to your inner thigh and bites down, sucking on it and causing you to whimper. His facial hair tickled against your sensitive skin, amplifying the effect he was having on you. He did the same to the other leg and by the end of it, your body was shaking and pulsing from desire. It pulsed so loud you thought he would be able to hear it–to hear your need, but he didn’t need to hear it. He saw all too clearly what exactly you were feeling.

“You have been a very difficult girl today. It appears I have to discipline you for enticing your professor.” With that, he jams three fingers into you without warning, making you cry out. Your body is ill-prepared and clenches tightly around his fingers as he drives them in and out. From time to time he would move them around, teasing you and enjoying watching your body cling to him. Once you become used to the sensation, you grind your body against his fingers, chasing the pleasure they gave.

 He takes as much pleasure from this act as you do, but he doesn’t allow himself or you to finish that quickly. Just as your body starts to tense up and prepare for release, he pulls his fingers out, denying your orgasm. You quiver as your body tries to recover from his careless teasing. The orgasm may have left you, but in return it made your body all the more sensitive. Your primal instincts were driven to the extreme and they took over you completely.

“P-please,” you weakly got out, “Fuck me.”

Your chest heaved with the effort, making you feel like putty in his hands. 

“I’m sorry, I didn’t quite hear you. What is it that you want?”

Glancing up at him, you see him staring straight at you, challenging you to tell him what exactly you wanted him to do to you. What he was going to do to you. Not being able to take it anymore, you cried out, “Please Aesop, fuck me!”

Sharp’s eyes darkened with hunger and a smile formed on his lips. He got off of the bed and removed his pants, revealing his long and hard member. Your eyes widened and you felt another pulse run through your body. You longed for him, longed for him to be inside you and make you his. Watching his every move, you saw him approach you and get on the bed. He moved to be on top of you, ensuring that his member was primed at your entrance. The anticipation drove you mad, making you wrap your arms around him to keep him close to you. He gave you a quick kiss before remarking, “And now, since you’ve been so good, I think it is time for your reward.”

He enters you and you groan at the impact. He is just as relentless as he was with his fingers as he pounds into you. You cling tight to him, leaning your head back and moaning loud for him. Grinding your body into his, you attempt to follow his tempo while he places wet, heavy kisses on your neck.  Stopping on a spot on your neck, he bites down and sucks, making a dark marking on it. Feeling him tongue the mark and kiss it, you softly whimper before deciding to do the same. 

You move your mouth to his chest, kissing it slowly upwards until you come to his neck and bite down. You suck lazily and mark him with the same marking he placed on you. He grunts, placing his hand on your head and pulling you back to face him. Your breasts bounce against his chest, stimulating you both as he thrusts harder into you, forcing lewd moans out of your mouth. His arousal increases as he watches you so completely taken over by lust. Your eyes are glazed and your face is flushed, your breath coming out in quick heavy spurts. You gasp, feeling your body tense up and your vagina pulse wildly, indicating the arrival of your climax.

“Aesop, I’m about to–” You barely get out when you cum, releasing the tension in your body and letting the viscous fluid pour out from you onto your legs and onto his dick. Your body deflates while your highly ravaged pussy sticks to his penis, submitting itself to him and his desires. Still not finished, Sharp continued to use you until he was satisfied with his work.

Leaning down, he kisses you roughly, relishing in the sweet moans you make against his mouth as he continues to plow into you. All you can do right now is hold onto him as you let him use you until he’s spent. Each movement triggers your already sensitive body, making you grind into him more to chase the remaining high. He leans more into you and growls, his own orgasm fastly approaching and releases into you, coating you with his cum. He gives a few more thrusts into you, forcing his cum further in you and preventing its escape. Shaking, he gets off of you, his member dripping with your fluids, and lies on his side. You turn towards him and snuggle up to him, his arm holding you to him.

With your lips now swollen and your body spent, you put your head on his chest, eyes lidded with exhaustion. Sharp grabs your waist, pulling you into his dick where it lay at your entrance. It appeared that while he was indeed tired, he still had some libido left over. Not even being able to think of another round, your body shook against his touch, displaying some of your own leftover desire despite the exhaustion.

After recovering his breath, he huskily says, “I hope you didn’t think you got away this lightly, Miss Y/N. Tomorrow you will be serving detention with me in my classroom. Or rather, you will be serving it with me for the foreseeable future.”

Feeling a slight pulse in your weakened body, you grinded into him and let him enter you once more. Your body welcomed this familiar feeling and hugged his penis, lightly encasing it in you. He groaned in approval, forcing himself more into you as he grinded with you before the two of you settled down.

“Well, if detention is going to be as fun as this, I’ll gladly serve it every day, sir.”

“I think you need a harsher punishment then. I will not be this lenient with you from now on. You will have to take whatever punishment I give you without complaint.”

“I shall look forward to it then. I wonder how many ways you will have me. On your desk, on your chair, in your–”

He cuts you off, nipping at your lips. “Say anymore and I will have you again–with or without your permission.”

Lowering one hand, he places it on your clit and runs his fingers lightly on it before removing them, giving you a reminder of what he is capable of. You shudder in delight, feeling excitement creep in as you look forward to the next day. Satisfied, he turns the lights off with a single nonverbal spell and rests his head on your head, letting the two of you fall asleep with lustful hopes for the future.

[sunstone-smiles]

The Crying Game, With a Twist

Author’s note: Merry Christmas / Happy Holidays everyone! And happy holidays to @cutesmokes! I’m your Secret Squealing Santa! 🎁 It was a pleasure writing this fic for you and writing for the characters of Elemental for the first time! Naturally, I rewatched the movie for research purposes, so I hope did them justice! I hope you enjoy!

Once again, a big thank you to @hypahticklish / @squealing-santa for hosting the event! Now on to the fic!

Series: Elemental

Characters: Wade and Ember

Word count: 2,700

Provided prompt: [Elemental: Ember and Wade (More of tactics but yeah -) kisses/ raspberries/cheer up/games]

Summary: After a slight baking incident involving an attempt at making fire food, Wade becomes disappointed that he didn’t make kol-nuts properly, despite his efforts. However, Ember finds a way to cheer him up with a round of the crying game that has a few different rules than how he remembers it. 

_ _ _

A surprising wave of heat engulfs Ember as she walks through the apartment door. Smokey air, yet with a pleasant aroma like the burning logs of a fireplace, fuels her senses. She closes the door behind her and moves further into the apartment, following with her eyes an airborne trail of smoke coming from the kitchen. A familiar figure stands behind the counter.

Ember places her bag on a nearby table, her gaze fixated on the kitchen. “Wade?”

“Ember!” Wade jumps and juggles a tray between his hands to keep it from falling. He regains control of the tray and slides it on the burners of the stove. “Sorry, I didn’t see you come in.”

“You seem to be busy,” she says cheerfully. She then catches a glimpse of a second tray on the counter. Charred spheres, stacked in the shape of a small pyramid, are on the tray. On closer inspection, many of the balls are lopsided, but Ember recognizes the look of the rounded snacks anywhere.

Ember points to the tray. “Are you making kol-nuts?” a smile grows as she asks.

“Yep! Or…trying to anyway,” Wade replies with a bashful shrug. He positions himself in front of the stove, where a pile of logs awaits him. “That last batch came out a little toasty,” he says over his shoulder, “but don’t worry! This next one should be perfect.” 

Wade picks up a pair of metal tongs. He grabs both ends of a log with the tool, dips the log into the open flame of the stove’s burner, then begins the attempt of crushing the log into a rounded shape with the cooking utensil. 

Usually, kol-nuts are made with the bare hands of those that can control their own flames. However, for a water person like Wade who’s missing those elemental expertise, he needs assistance from tools that can help him handle the flames and the compression process of the logs, hence the use of the tongs. 

“I think I’ve got the technique down,” Wade mentions. Everything moves smoothly as he starts to crush the log between the grip of the tongs, but the closer he compresses the log towards the desired shape, the more difficult it becomes. His momentum begins to stall. He squeezes the handle of the utensil as far as it’ll move together, even adding his second hand to gain more force. Despite his efforts, the kol-nut does not compress into a perfect ball.

Wade nervously laughs over his shoulder and releases the lopsided kol-nut on the nearby tray. He grabs another log with the tongs, dips it into the fire, and tries again. He clearly struggles.

Ember tries to peek over at his work, “Wade-”

“All good here!” Wade reveals a second nervous laugh and misshapes another kol-nut. He places it on the tray then picks up the pace with the other logs, partially in a panic. He squeezes each of the logs one by one, distorting their shape and placing them on the tray like a well-oiled machine with a malfunction in its production.

“Wade-” 

“Everything’s fine! Totally fine!” He drops the last kol-nut on the tray, picks up the sheet, then spins around to show Ember the finished product. 

“See!” he breathes heavily, “Kol-nuts!” his face shows a false smile. His facade of an expression falters the more he looks at the charred piles of failure in front of him. The corners of his mouth finally drop in defeat. 

“Burnt…hard…and completely the wrong shape,” he slides the tray on the counter and his head droops. He shuffles his way to the sink to throw the tongs in with a metal clang. As he does this, Wade’s mouth quivers and he starts to cry. Ember quickly goes around the kitchen counter.

“Oh, Wade. Don’t cry,” she grabs his hands. She reaches up and tilts his face towards her, showing him a soft smile to say that it’s going to be alright. 

Wade sniffles. He wipes away tears with the back of his hand. “I know, I’m sorry.” Another stream of tears replaces the ones he had wiped away. “It’s just that, I wanted this to be special.” 

Ember reassures him, “Wade, you even making the effort to bake them is special.”

“But I wanted the kol-nuts to be perfect,” Wade stares at her with tear-filled eyes before another stream of his sorrows runs across both of his cheeks.

“Hey, hey, hey,” Ember takes his arm and leads him to the couch. She gently plops him down on the (fireproof) cushions and sits next to him. “Take it from me, making kol-nuts for the first time is hard, not to mention how difficult it can be to control the consistency of the flame. Sure, they might be a little lopsided, but they didn’t come out so bad.” She pauses to smile. “Plus, I don’t mind them well-done with a bit of extra char.”

Wade lets out a chuckle at that. 

“See,” Ember wipes another tear from his eye. She wraps her hands around his neck to soothingly rub across the back of it. “So there’s nothing to be upset about.” 

Wade chuckles again.

“What?” Ember giggles too, “What’s so funny?”

“Nothing,” Wade says with a third chuckle and squishes his neck to his shoulders. He gently grabs one of Ember’s wrists that was rubbing the back of his neck. “Your fingers are tickling me.”

“Oh, sorry,” Ember releases a soft laugh of her own. She pulls back her hands, but notices that Wade’s face still has a hint of a crestfallen expression. A mischievous idea pops into Ember’s thoughts.

“Hey, I know what will cheer you right up,” Ember switches the subject. “How about a round of the crying game?” 

“Really?” Wade tilts his head at her. “But I was just crying a minute ago,” he gestures to the kitchen as if to provide context to his statement. “Any mention of my attempted kol-nuts and you would easily win.” His back slumps forward.

“Ah, but I’m talking about a different version of the crying game.”

Wade straightens up a bit. “A different version?”

“Yep. Instead of trying to make someone cry tears that are sad, the other player’s goal is to make their opponent cry tears of joy.”

Wade laughs. “Where did you come up with this?”

“Just now,” Ember replies with a grin. “So what do you say? Want to play?”

Wade perks up a little more. He shows Ember a soft smile. “Okay.” His eyes scan around the room in search of something. “But don’t we still need a timer?”

“Nope!” Ember leaps for him and tackles him into the cushions.

“E-Ember!?” Wade exclaims. “This isn’t part of the ga-ahahame!” Wade’s sentence suddenly overflows with giggles when Ember starts tickling the upper half of his torso, where his ribs would be if he had them. 

“It is now,” she says with a smug look. 

“Ohoho, I see how you’re trying to win!” Wade squirms backwards to reach the arm of the couch. “Well, game ohohon!”

Ember grins. With the game in full swing, Ember darts her hands to his sides, causing Wade to bark out a laugh. He quickly slaps both of his hands over his mouth, letting out a snort. Through the clear water of his hands, Ember watches as the corners of Wade’s mouth twitch upwards the longer he attempts to contain his laughter, nearly boiling over with giggles like a tea kettle. 

“Trying to hold in your laughter, huh?” Ember smirks from above him. “Not on my watch!” She dives her hands into Wade’s underarms, resulting in him clamping his arms down with another jolt of laughter.

“Ehehehember!” He successfully eases his laughter down to a giggle, purposely controlling himself from exploding into tears of joy. 

“Yes Wade? Is there a problem?” Ember says with a smirk laced in her words.

“P-Prohohoblem? Nohohope! No problem at ahahall!” Wade snickers through his sentence. He kicks himself back further on the arm of the couch and tries to curl himself up. Any attempt to keep himself from bursting into a tsunami of laughter. He can feel the drop of a single joyful tear start to form.

“Really? Because it looks to me like you’re about to lose the crying game,” Ember teases, seeing that she’s reaching closer to victory. The playful, yet competitive spirit burns up inside her.

Wade tries his best to feign an unfazed demeanor. “Noho way! I’m nowhere close to cryi–ING!” Wade leaps like a large wave crashing into the ocean when Ember scribbles at the center of his belly. The dam containing Wade’s laughter finally crumbles and a flood of the joyous sound pours from Wade.

“Gotcha now, Wade!” Ember exclaims, clawing at his tummy with one hand while the other lies on his chest to pin him down. “Caught you by surprise didn’t I?”

“Surprihihihise is an understatement! Hahahaha!” Wade wiggles. He takes some lighthearted shoves at Ember and her hands.

“Well, I don’t see those happy tears yet! So time for a second surprise!” In less than a second, Ember takes a deep breath and presses her lips to Wade’s stomach to give him a big, tickly raspberry.

The squeal that comes from Wade is nearly high enough to shatter glass. The combination of heated air from Ember’s fire sends an extra tickly reaction across Wade’s entire stomach of water, like the bubbles of carbonation surging across his entire torso.

“Ehehehehember!!!” Wade screeches with laughter, kicking his legs in front of her. His expression lights up with a smile even wider than before, one that nearly takes up his entire face. Tears of mirth finally spill across his face like two waterfalls. Ember smiles with success, and for good measure, provides him with a few more raspberries across his tummy.

“Nohohohot ag-AIN!” Wade arcs his back and pushes at Ember’s head.

“Again?” Ember teases. “If you insist!” she says and delivers another raspberry on his stomach, making Wade squeal.

“I GIHIHIHIVE! Yohohohou win!” Wade squirms from side to side to protect his tummy, until he rolls right off the couch. 

Ember perches herself on the cushions, looking down at her partner with a giggle. “You good, Wade?”

The man of water flips himself over like a seashell being turned over in the sand. Giggles still trickle from his system, even as he sits himself up.

“That was evil,” Wade jokes as he wipes a leftover tear of joy from his eye.

“Sorry Wade, but I had to cheer you up somehow and those are the rules of the game,” she shrugs with a smile. Ember turns to lift herself off the couch, “You also got me fired up with the competition–Whoa!” Ember falls back to the couch from Wade wrapping his arms around her in a hug.

“Hold on a second,” Wade says as he pulls Ember tighter into his arms. “You had your turn at the crying game,” his voice rings with innocent mischief. “Now it’s my turn.”

Ember gasps. She tries to pull herself out of his hug, only to realize that her arms are pinned to her sides. She nervously giggles, “Uh sorry! But that version of the crying game only has one round so–Eeek!” 

Ember cuts herself off with a squeak when Wade plants tickly kisses to the back of her neck. An abundance of giggles and squeaks from Ember follow as Wade continues providing her neck with kisses.

“Wahahade!” Ember giggles and squirms in his hug. She lets out another high squeak when Wade blows a raspberry into the side of her neck, returning the favor. Ember tries to twist her head and squeeze her neck to her shoulders as squeaky laughter pours from her like melted glass. With another effective raspberry to her neck, Ember attempts to pull herself from his grasp. 

“Not so fast, Ember!” Wade tightens his hug, now changing tactics and using his hands wrapped around her to scribble at her sides. 

Ember unleashes a squeal and tugs herself forward to escape. Wade loosens his hold and the forward momentum causes Ember to plop face first into the cushions. With her arms free, Ember quickly tries to launch herself over the side of the couch, but Wade catches her by her sides and squeezes her torso. 

Ember releases another adorable squeal and sinks her head into the cushions to hide her face. Wade chuckles, skittering his fingers up and down Ember’s sides. “Aww, that squeak was so cute.”

Ember lifts up her head to throw her voice behind her. “Quiet yohohohou! It was nohohot cute!” she attempts to deny it. Feeling fingers nearing her underarms, Ember curls herself up into a ball and rolls over onto her back, now facing Wade. She grabs at Wade’s hands and flails her limbs while a bright smile lights up her already illuminated face of fire. Her eyes are squeezed shut and an eruption of laughter flows from her like lava. An amber-colored tear forms at the corner of her eye, like dew about to drip from a flower.

Wade notices the liquid gem below her eye. “Aha! A tear of joy! I win!” Wade pulls away in victory, allowing Ember the chance to relax. She lies flat on the cushions with a hand on her middle, taking heavy breaths like a train burning coal to keep pushing up a steep mountain. But instead of stream releasing from an engine, residual giggles release from Ember with each exhale. 

Wade lends her a gentle hand to help her sit up. “Are you alright?”

“Hehe, yeah,” Ember wipes away the tear of fire from her eye. “Looks like we’re both winners of the crying game this time.”

Wade giggles. His eyes catch sight of his baked snacks still sitting on the counter. “At least one thing ended in a win today,” he mentions. “What are we going to do with the kol-nuts? Throw them out? Ah, but that would be such a waste.”

Ember places a hand to her chin, thinking. An idea clicks, and she speaks up before Wade can start crying sad tears again. “I’ve got an idea. Watch this.” 

Ember lifts herself up to go to the kitchen. She grabs two mugs from the cabinet, milk from the fridge, and a box of chocolate powder from the pantry. With the same effortless speed she uses to make her glass art, Ember pours some milk into the mugs, heats them up quick by grabbing the bottom of the cup with her fiery hands to skip using the stove, drops a spoonful of cocoa powder into each, stirs, then places two of Wade’s homemade kol-nuts into both.

“Ta-da,” Ember grabs the mugs and heads to the couch to hand one to Wade. “Kol-nut hot chocolate. Try it.”

Ember passes a mug to him. Cautiously, Wade takes it. He looks at the liquid, then takes a sip. He smacks his lips together. “Hey, this is really good.”

“And it was made with your kol-nuts.” Ember soaks the kol-nut in her own drink like a cookie dunked in milk. She plucks the treat from her mug and takes a bite, now that the rock-hard form has become softer, then finishes her mouthful. “The flavor isn’t bad! Not as good as mine of course, but not bad!”

Wade bounces with an airy laugh. “Thanks Ember.”

“What are you thanking me for?” she takes a seat next to him. “You made them. So, thank you for making them.”

“No, not about that. About you cheering me up.”

“Oh,” Ember smiles as she hears his words. “Of course Wade. You’re welcome.”

Wade takes another sip of his hot chocolate. “Things are better when we work together, huh?”

“Yeah,” Ember nods. “Meaning next time, I’ll help you with making kol-nuts to get the batch just right.”

Wade chuckles. “I wouldn’t have it any other way.” He returns a softened expression and holds out his glass towards her. “Cheers.”

“Cheers,” Ember repeats and clinks her glass to his. She leans forward to give him a kiss. For the rest of the night, the two sit and enjoy their hot chocolate—made specially with the combined elements of each other's assistance.

[mosylufanfic]

Answer the Questions and Tag 5 Fanfic Authors

Tagged by @rifle-yes, the fool

1. How did you get into writing fanfiction?

See answer #3 below, but the short version is that I started writing and posting stories at the Derbyshire Writer's Guild, a Jane Austen fanfic site. And it's all been downhill from there.

2. How many fandoms have you written in?

Oh boy. Hang on. This is a hard one because multiple of my fandoms are like, within a larger fandom? So there's a good amount under the Star Wars umbrella, and a bunch of Jane Austen, and a lot of DCTV. Going back and counting the major fandoms (the ones I remember being really into and doing several fics for, as opposed to just one or two to scratch an itch), I think it's seven. If you do count the one-offs, it's more like 12 or 15. Look, I've been on many fic sites and I'm still trying to get off my ass and archive everything on AO3. It's hard!

3. How many years have you been writing fanfiction?

Pretty much since forever? I remember writing Little Mermaid fic in fourth grade, although I didn't really have that word for it at the time. And there was an epic (and epically bad) Star Wars sequel that I worked on for years in my tweens. I started posting fic online at 19 when I realized that was a thing I could do (see #1). So in terms of writing fic that I shared with other fans, 24 years.

4. Do you read or write more fanfiction?

Definitely read, although there are times where it's a close run thing.

5. What is one way you’ve improved as a writer?

I think my worldbuilding has improved over the years. I never did it on purpose, but I see a definite uptick in how deeply I think about the worlds I'm writing in and the various implications of that for the characters.

6. What’s the weirdest topic you researched for a writing project?

Oh so many things! I freaking love research. I think the most morbid (and mathiest) was trying to estimate how much air a man had available in a 10x10 space buried underground.

7. What’s your favorite type of comment to receive on your work?

This is like asking what kind of cake is best, but I do love the ones that pick up on something I didn't even realize about the story. I had one recently that pointed out a shift in language that signaled deeper and more focused intimacy in the course of a smut scene. And I was like, ". . . huh. Well, I'll be. That sure did happen."

8. What’s the most fringe trope/topic you write about?

I think probably the Space!Paperwork in Lost & Found was the fringiest thing I've ever done.

9. What is the hardest type of story for you to write?

Oh, man, longfics. I often come up with an idea and I just know from the shape of it that it's going to be a a monster. And then I have to decide if I want to go through all the work of plotting and writing thousands and tens of thousands of words. That's why I have so many one-shots that are basically "pilot episodes" for longfics that will never be written.

10. What is the easiest type?

Modern AUs, especially high school AUs. There's so much there that's already known to the readers that I can just laser-focus on the part that's interesting to me.

11. Where do you do your writing? What platform? When?

I do a lot of my writing on Gdocs. I know they're the devil, but I might be settled down to work on four or five different machines throughout the course of my day, and half that time is on the public floor where I have to look available to help people. So to me, it's better to be able to quickly sign into a website and tap out that quick scene than to try and hide my phone under the desk and write on that horrible little keyboard. (I'll do that too, but only when I have no other option.)

Longfics get ported into Scrivener when they get too unwieldy for Gdocs, but I'm still more likely to write scenes in Gdocs and paste them into the Scrivener file when I'm done.

12. What is something you’ve been too nervous/intimidated to write, but would love to write one day?

Probably some of the longfics that are knocking around in my brain, especially the ones that concern areas of the Star Wars canon that I never really got into.

13. What made you choose your username?

It's a nickname my mom used to call me when I was a teenager, and when I was picking my AIM screen name in college, that's what I went with. Actually, I had another one first that was objectively cooler, but I forgot the password to that account and either I was too dumb to reset it or there wasn't functionality for that. So mosylu it was. I also decided at the time that it would be my Internet Identity, and it still is.

Tagging @andorerso, @hedgiwithapen, @incognitajones, @colleybri, and @youareiron-andyouarestrong

[sapphia]

Speaking of copying and plagarising and all that good stuff, how do we feel about the copying and distributing of fan content as a preservation method?

Fanfiction is an old enough medium that we've seen huge losses of content only preserved through site caches and saved stories, which is a true loss to fandom history. This is the reason why I've left up the vast majority of my fanfics, despite no longer being able to take pride in the skill of my writing from a time so very long ago: it's a little timecapsule into not just my own history but fandom and fanfiction history. Fanfiction is absolutely all about trends and in-things, be that the content it's writing about or fanfiction concept trends, and one day we're absolutely going to want to remember that people were writing these sorts of stories en-masse.

Although there are already many author's whose work we've likely lost because they've self-deleted or removed for censorship over the past 30 years (literally, that's how old ff.net is), we've yet to see the biggest total-time-capsule loss that could happen to fanfiction history--the mass-deletion or wipe of ff.net content from the post-fanfic boom (such as if the site is ever killed or if the administrators do another largescale purge as with the M+ bans and subsequent porn crackdowns). Some stories have been preserved through reposting by the authors, and some have been saved by fans who downloaded them to archive or for their own personal offline use.

Not all of these have been reposted--some day in the future there will be a lot of work put in to trying to trace down and preserve many of the pillarstone fics of the fanfiction communities from these times. And it's crazy to think that some of my fics, with their modest reviews and low hitcounts, are a part of this history, whether it's because someone out there someday will desperately what to reread a crackfic about a naruto character reading other characters bedtime stories, or because I was one of the many people writing harry potter fanfiction tropes that grew and evolved and developed into other things that we are still seeing in modern fanfiction today.

And even further into the future--how do we feel about reposting AO3 and other fanfiction works now? Sure, AO3 seems safe at present, but it won't always be, and many of the authors from its early years have orphaned, or worse, deleted, their immensely-popular stories.

When does copying and plagarising and reposting works without permission move into archiving? There are many fanfictions from the 2000s we will never recover because no one would have ever dreamt to copy them and put them anywhere else without the author's permission. That's a horrible thing to do to an author! But you simply cannot rely on an author to preserve their own work if you are wanting to ensure it will be available for any purpose in the future, be that research or discussion or consumption or any other reason. The author may not be alive. They may not be aware anything is happening to their story at all. They may be the writer of My Immortal and turn out to be a horrible person who deleted everything and likely would have deleted her base fic too had she had access to the account to do it.

When do we take works out of the hands of authors and say: This. This is important enough for us to save, whether you want it or not?

When does plagarism become preservation?

[m34gs]

For the ask game: Pomefiore Saw AU and Customer Service AU for Blue Exorcist!

Hi friend! Thanks for the ask (based on this post)

Super excited to talk about these works!

Pomefiore Poison for the Saw AU:

For those of you who aren't familiar with Kimium's and my sort of Saw Franchise au, please feel free to check out my pinned post. It has links to all our asks regarding the AU and a link to our series on AO3 that we are working on. Kimium writes Yuu being oblivious to the murders and hanging out with their Twisted Wonderland friends, and I write the friends committing murder in the background :D The Pomefiore Poison fic is Pomefiore's murder fic!

Excerpt:

               “Are you sure? She didn’t do it on purpose this time,” Epel said. He glanced over his shoulder, wide blue eyes falling on Vil’s imposing figure.                Vil stood, tall and elegant as always, right behind him. “Perhaps. Or perhaps not. Either way, if she doesn’t get punished for this deviation, she may think she can cheat the rules and cough up all the drinks instead of consuming them.” He rested a gloved hand on Epel’s shoulder and squeezed, firmly but gently. “Do it.”

I don't want to give too much more; it would spoil the murder :D but I have been having fun working on this one. There's still a ways to go on it, but it's definitely been one I have been chipping away at and I cannot wait to post!

Customer Service AU for Blue Exorcist:

So, this is actually the title of the wip file for my Inconvenience Store fic, which is a haunted convenience store au. Don't ask me why I didn't title it "haunted convenience store au". The brain didn't brain I guess, and then I never changed it....

I've been working away at chapter 8 and am hopeful to be able to post that one soon! We are so close to the ending, and I'm really happy with how it's been going.

Excerpt of upcoming chapter:

               So, Ryuji didn’t mention anything to Lewin. He cooked a large, hearty supper and made sure there were leftovers for Lewin to take on his trip the next day. He helped his uncle organize and pack the things he would need; or rather, he stopped Lewin from bringing an entire suitcase full of research and newspaper clippings and translations of old text.                “You’re not even staying over night! You don’t need a suitcase!” he told him, as he emptied it out at the kitchen table. “You’re taking the passages you and Shiro translated and a notebook. That’s it!”                “What about a pen?”                Ryuji rolled his eyes to the heavens, the way he’d seen his mother do when he or his father were being particularly difficult. “Yes. You can have a pen.”                “What about – ”                “No. You have everything you need to take notes. You don’t need more. Your lunch is in the fridge, don’t forget it in the morning. It’s late. Go to bed, and if I hear even a hint of you packing more things to take, I will camp out in your bedroom until you get to sleep.” Ryuji jabbed a finger down the hall to Lewin’s bedroom. His uncle sulked and shuffled down the hall. Ryuji sighed in exasperation and rubbed his forehead.

I am super excited for these next few chapters, and I'm crossing my fingers for plenty of motivation and energy to write them!!!!

Thank you again for the ask! I hope you enjoyed my answers!!!

[bonaesperanza]

book ask: 3, 4, 12

I'M SORRY THIS IS SO LONG :( Anyway, this post was for my book ask, everyone else reading it feel free to join in!

3. What were your top five books of the year?

Hoo boy, if I were perfectly honest they would all be Lymond Chronicles books. Those books are PERFECT, they literally have everything I've ever wanted: operatic drama AND Ocean's 11-style competence porn AND meticulously researched historical battles AND a morally grey manipulative messy depraved bisexual protagonist who ends up breaking down into a puddle of mental health issues at several points AND really well-rounded strong female characters. However, for fairness's sake, I'm going to pretend that I can only put in one book in a series, so here goes:

Pawn in Frankincense by Dorothy Dunnett (Lymond Chronicles book 4/6) - I only read this at the beginning of the year and I've already reread it twice. It has all the content warnings, the lushest writing you'll ever see, and it will make you fall in love with it and then break your heart. Two bisexual Scottish noblemen, one of which is Depraved and the other one Repressed and Catholic, travel the Mediterranean in search of the bastard child of one of them, which is held hostage by a sadistic knight Hospitaller. They are accompanied by a maybe-sister of one of them (it's a mystery if they're related and how!!) and a perspicaceous fifteen-year-old girl who can't be convinced to leave even though everyone agrees it's inappropriate for her to be there. As everyone around them dies in increasingly gruesome ways and everything starts feeling like some kind of orientalist fever dream, they bicker constantly due to their shitty personalities and the mounting UST between several of them. The main draw of this series as a whole is that most of the characters are simultaneously manipulative cunning chessmasters and very mentally ill, and you are left wondering (alongside their friends and family) whether their current breakdown is part of some elaborate byzantine plot or if they're just genuinely losing their mind <3

Prince's Gambit by C.S. Pacat (Captive Prince book 2/3) - it maintains a laser-sharp focus on the characterizations and character dynamics (and the characters have many layers to unpeel) while rolling out a pretty twisty and well-constructed military/political plot in the background. Also full of lush, sensorial writing and sordid personal drama, just as I like it <3

The King's Shield by Sherwood Smith (Inda tetralogy book 3/4) - literally the emotional payoff of the previous two books, as this series follows a group of military school friends as they grow into their aristocratic roles and here they finally meet up after having spent a book and a half apart. Amazing nuanced and realistic exploration of how growing up in a very militaristic, macho, almost proto-fascist society impacts various types of personalities, amazing unique and detailed worldbuilding that makes you fall in love with the local culture (despite the almost-fascism), complex realpolitik, amazingly lovely and realistic depictions of healthy male friendships, a subplot about defending a castle from an invasion that's harrowingly historically realistic AND makes you realize the practical utilities of why the culture is The Way It Is. MORE PEOPLE SHOULD READ THIS SERIES IT HAS 8 FICS ON AO3 FOR CHRIST'S SAKE!

The Player of Games by Iain M. Banks (The Culture book 2/10) - wide-scope heavily left-leaning reflections on various properties of culture and society and its purpose and a very... literary fiction-esque approach to characterization, almost, smack in the middle of a book that hinges entirely on sociological storytelling. Very cool mix! And the plot is, just like I like it, filled with cool twists and moves within moves within moves, so it's not like you'll get suffocated by plotless philosophical considerations of the Evil of Imperialism - it's still a really exciting, fairly plotty book!

Memory by LoisMcMaster Bujold (Vorkosigan Saga book 10/16... I think? The numbering of these books is Complicated, okay?) - This is a series that's like 80% fast-paced madcap plotty fun but the characters feel like icebergs in that you get constant hints of the 70% that's below the surface. This book is a cut above the rest because it leverages the gradual buildup and reader goodwill accumulated over the previous 9 books and uses it to swerve into a character study of the protagonist, his flaws, how they were shaped by his environment, and his deeply-seated mid-life crisis while ALSO delivering a decently fun mystery plot.

4. Did you discover any new authors that you love this year?

Absolutely! Technically I discovered Dorothy Dunnett last year, since that's when I started my first read of Lymond, but I finished it this year and am on my second reread currently so I think it counts.

C.S. Pacat is another new favourite - he had Dunnett as a major influence but I feel like they're two very different beasts in many respects - Pacat's writing is less chaotic and more deliberate in its exploration of the characters' inner lives. Dunnett's characters feel like deranged children screaming in the back of the car (in the most deliberate and best possible way), while Pacat's feel like fine, carefully constructed clockwork. Dunnett also embeds her characterization in a sprawling complex plot that can be compared to something like Game of Thrones, Pacat leaves the plot in the background (although it's still complex enough!) and hones in on the character dynamics.

12. Any books that disappointed you?

I am gonna get shit from the Beloved Mutuals for this I think but I HATED The Goblin Emperor by Katherine Addison. I hated it so much, and I had heard so much hype about it before I read it. Like, I literally have a bunch of notes with evidence of it botching literally every aspect of writing/storytelling that I consider important, it's fascinating to me in how I am convinced of it doing literally everything wrong and yet it's so popular? Like I consider it worse than ACOTAR, and I was even thinking of writing up a long post dissecting what I consider are all its flaws, but so many people on here seem very attached to it and I wouldn't like to ruffle any feathers.

Honourable mention to The Secret History by Donna Tartt - technically I'd read it over 10 years ago but I remembered nothing from it so this year I did a reread because a person whose tastes I respect a lot heaped lavish praise on it. But I also hated it and thought it was a fake-deep book for people who like nonsense fake-deep Facebook quotes and Old Money Quiet Luxury (tm) aesthetic boards :S

[shadowriel]

Hi, Welcome! Sending you all virtual hugs!

All my works can be found on AO3. I have several Gwynriel fics, but I write for a variety of ships. You can find details below.

Note: fics with mature/explicit content are marked with a *

COMPLETED

Everything We Could Ever Be — multi-chapter (6/6; 13k words)

Parallel universes, winter solstice, soulmates

On the eve of Winter Solstice, magic is in the air (not that Gwyn entirely believes in it). From kisses with Azriel to sips of mulled wine, everything changes when Gwyn finds herself in the last place she would have ever expected.

The Darkest Remnants of a Soul — one shot (1.8k words)

Hurt/comfort, angst, canon compliant

Following a rough night in the dungeons beneath the Hewn City, Azriel flies home and struggles to cope.

By Nightfall — one shot (1.6k words)

Banter, first kisses, Fourth Wing AU

Unable to sleep, Azriel ends up in the Scribe Quadrant, where he finds Gwyn reading something interesting.

A Night to Rival All Others* — one shot (7k words)

Shameless smut, rivals to lovers, modern AU

Gwyn shows up to a party in her 'Fuck me' dress and her rival, Azriel, does just that.

Rainfall (and other ways to get wet)* — drabble (900 words)

Established relationship, mates, oral sex

Gwyn finds her mate in the training ring. One thing leads to another. OR: Azriel getting on his knees for Gwyn.

IN PROGRESS

For Research Purposes Only* — long fic (38/?)

Friends to lovers, grad school, modern AU

Gwyn has been mutual friends with Azriel for almost a year, yet they've only ever shared stolen glances and minimal conversation. With a wedding around the corner, the two rope themselves into a fake relationship and agree to be each other's dates. Set across a backdrop of wedding shenanigans and grad school work, Gwyn finds herself wanting more. But Azriel can't possibly be falling for her - right?

Out of the Storm* — multi-chapter (3/4)

Academic rivals, sexual tension, modern AU

Azriel is the last person Gwyn wants to spend her Winter Solstice with. But after asking him to drive her home for the holidays, his car breaks down and forces them to spend the night at a nearby inn.

Every Sound Your Heart Makes — multi-chapter (2/5)

Small town AU, friends to lovers, single dad Azriel

It’s been six years since Azriel came back to his hometown, with his newborn daughter in tow. Six years since Gwyn moved away from whatever heartbreak she’d left behind in her previous life and opened up a diner in Starlight Grove. Now, unable to resist the urge to help Gwyn, Azriel volunteers to design sets for their town’s Christmas musical. But what happens when the town grump and the woman he’s fallen for can no longer hold back from the inevitable?

In The Moondust* — multi-chapter (2/?)

Second chances, engagement, modern AU

Before: Gwyn finds herself enamoured with Azriel, sharing hearts, engagement rings, and a new house with the clearest view of the stars. The promise of a lifetime doesn't seem like enough, but she can't wait to spend it all with him. Now: She's not sure when it all changed.

The Blade of Your Tongue, Clashing Against Mine — multi-chapter (2/?)

Canon divergent, enemies to lovers, villain Gwyn

As general to Koschei's army, Gwyneth Berdara wields death with power. It's a choice she made after being rescued from Sangravah—to never be helpless again. Yet, her story rewrites itself when the Spymaster of the Night Court is captured as a prisoner of war and claims to be her mate.

Only On My Mind* — long fic (5/?)

Second chance romance, workplace rivals, modern AU

Everything in Elain’s life seems to be going wrong — from one failed relationship after another to the listless, draining hours she spends working in biotech. When Lucien, her former flirty, yet infuriating lab mate, joins the company and gets assigned to the same project, Elain can’t help but think that things will get so much worse.

Counting Every Second — one shot (4k words)

Meet-cute, speed dating, modern AU

When Cassian invites one of his friends to Elain's Valentine's Day speed-dating event, she's roped into participating. She's never met Lucien before, and even though she doesn't have high hopes, talking with Lucien for a few minutes can't be too bad, can it?

Whiskey Over Wine* — series part 1 (5.6k words)

Country AU, workplace shenanigans, shameless smut

As a bartender in the charming town of Windhaven, Feyre struggles to work under her over-protective, bad-tempered boss. The answer to her problem seems to be getting on top of him.

Searching for Starlight — one shot (1.8k words)

Star-crossed lovers, angst, canon divergent

Years after the great war, Rhysand crosses into the Mortal Lands and is reunited with his former lover.

Filthy Sweet Beginnings* [Elain x Az x Cass] — one shot (6.2k words)

Threesome, shameless smut, porn without plot

Drawn in by the shadowsinger’s bedroom voice, Cassian stumbles upon Azriel and Elain having sex. The rest is simple: Cassian joins.

Shower Me With Kisses [Elriel] — one shot (1.4k words)

Modern AU, roommates, fluff

An annoyed Elain decides to confront her new roommate, Azriel.

[howtodrawyourdragon]

Burdened With Purpose

Chapter 1 - Prologue

Tagging: @evilwriter37 @cabeverian

Summary: A Httyd fic based on the world of Portal/Half-Life.

The world has been ruined, torn apart by robots who intend on replacing all life on Earth, but humanity isn't done yet. Astrid lives in the village of Berk, one of the last few human settlements alive. Hoping to find something to strengthen their defenses, she goes out to find a way and stumbles upon an old research facility that may have everything to do with the state of the world.

Warnings: Mentions of terminal illness, a dying character

Ratings: Teen and Up

Words: 1 050

Fandom: How to Train Your Dragon

Characters: Hiccup, Viggo

Pairing: Vigcup

Author's Note:

Sometimes I think of creating an AU based on the world of Portal, but never really got it off the ground. That is until I imagined some of the drama I could write and now here we are. Very excited for this one!

Same rules apply here as with Just a Kid. The rating and tags will change as the story progresses.

Enjoy! :)

-XOXOX-

Viggo Grimborn despises the way his body has turned on him. He should still be in his prime, he’s barely halfway throug his 30s. Yet, he sits in front of the fireplace dressed in his warmest clothes with a robe on top and he’s still cold. The dark circles under his eyes have deepend, he’s lost weight and his dark hair is showing signs of gray. Grimborns don’t tend to gray so early in life.

And he’s wheezing. Coughing and wheezing because his lungs have been utterly destroyed and he has no one to blame but himself.

It hurts to breathe.

With shaking hands, he grabs the pill bottle on the small table next to him and takes two pain killers. They’re strong, it’s double the right dose, but Viggo is far beyond caring at this point. Then he grabs his glass of port wine to wash it all down.

What a wreck he has become. The media and the newspapers wonder why there hasn’t been a public sighting of him for months now and he can’t stomach the idea of coming clean.

He’s sick and that’s a private matter.

A door opens and closes softly, but those hurried footsteps are barely muffled by the thick carpet before a hand quickly grabs Viggo’s glass from him. Unfortunately, those pills are already long gone.

“Viggo, how many times do I have to tell you not to take your medication with alcohol?!” The sickly man looks up to his partner and finds Hiccup glaring down at him, his glass in hand and other hand on his hip.

Viggo huffs and dismisses the lecture.

“What does it matter?” He asks. “I’m done.”

Just a week ago their private phycisian told them the terrible news; he’s terminal. He probably has only months.

Months Hiccup would very much like to have with him, which they can’t if Viggo continues to wash his pills down with a strong drink instead of water.

“You’re not done. Who knows, there could be a way to help you tomorrow or a week from now. We don’t give up!” Hiccup wastes the drink, throwing it in the fire. It fuels it, makes it grow bigger for a second before it returns to its original size. Viggo considers it a good metaphor for his anger. Hiccup stands there, rubbing his temple where a stress headache brews.

“Reckless,” Viggo shakes his head.

“I remember when I took you on exactly for that recklessness. And your unorthodox, brilliant brain, of course. In a mass of researchers and interns and people calling themselves the future of science, you were actually promising,” he reminisces with his eyes closed.

Viggo can’t say he has loved anyone before he met Hiccup. He was just 18 years old then, ahead of everyone else with a head full of ideas no one wanted to listen to and yet with a fire that would burn them all down. The day they met, he knew he had to have him by his side. It’s been two years since then and just a month after their wedding, they were told he was sick.

Viggo opens his eyes to look at him, watches as he appears to stare into the fire deep in thought himself, fist to his chin.

They’ve called him a gold digger and a boytoy. He’s been sneered at and his father refuses to talk to him. For what other reason would he marry a man much older than himself if not because he’s either scheming or too naive to think for himself?

But Viggo nows better. He knows him intimately. Hiccup was the only person in the entire world worthy of being his equal and he still proves that every day.

Not even Ryker is in his life anymore. And once news of his death reaches him...

“Hiccup, my company…” The man has to swallow. He wishes his lungs would stop burning with every breath. Wishes he didn’t feel so weak, he would yank the young man into his arms and carry him to bed if he had the strength.

Instead, he can’t even sit in a way he considers dignified anymore.

Hiccup turns to him, his features soft and worried. He steps closer, sitting down on the cushy arm chair on the other side of the small table and takes his nearest hand. “Don’t worry about any of that right now. You need to think about yourself.”

Instead of listening, Viggo continues.

“I won’t make it. When I’m no longer here-”

Hiccup takes his hand back and shoots up, refusing to hear another word.

“No! You’ll be just fine!” He argues. He wouldn’t know what to do with himself if his husband were to die on him.

“I won’t! And we both know it!” Despite the wheezing, Viggo manages a hard tone.

“When I’m gone. I want you to take over from me. The company and all its assets, both liquid and otherwise, will be yours. Every patent we own will be yours. I can trust no one else with them.”

“You’ll make it,” there’s a crack in Hiccup’s voice. “You’ll make it and you’ll finish your last project and then it won’t be your last anymore because there will be others.”

Viggo is too tired to even shake his head at his stubborness. How can he make him so angry, yet so infatuated with him at the same time? He’s the only one who has ever made him face the fact that love truly does exist. And the way his body used to melt with his when they were still capable of making love made him believe there was such a thing as the divine as well. But his mind, the hours spent together working with him, competing against him, those were the times when he truly felt alive, happy.

Viggo’s body is dying. His very last project was secret even to Hiccup and at this rate, he’ll never see it finished.

Unless… Yes, his body is dying, but that doesn’t mean all of him will be gone. His legacy will continue and Hiccup will be burdened with it.

“My company is yours,” he repeats once more. “You’ll take over.”

“No,” Hiccup crosses his arms, stubborn. “I’m not going to take over.”

“And you can’t make me.”

[fitzrove]

Now that I'm talking about history sklslsldldld here's another post...

Historical accuracy in fanworks - why?

A recurring thing w me is that people get annoyed with how obsessed I am with historical accuracy 😭😅 Like people have had to physically restrain me from doing 5 hours of research for a throwaway line in a fanfic, and one friend and I once had an hour long argument about word choice... But unfortunately I am just Like This lmao.

The thing is though, it's not because of any inherent sense of superiority or anything like that lol, I just have preferences. Also, I'm not the kind of person that needs everything to be 100% accurate all the time, I can still have fun JAPFLDPGPF. Basically, for me it comes down to a few things:

1. Suspension of disbelief / immersion

With historical fiction, the "he would not fucking say that" kicks in w dialogue easier than w something set in the modern day. Sometimes it's because of glaringly modern language (a 19th century guy going "sup" or something xD) but other times it's because a character is way too familiar with people of a different class, or acts/dresses/speaks too casually in general.

My hugest pet peeve with this are character names for side characters that the author made up 😭😭😭😭😭 As a non-native English speaker I don't really get the urge to insert random English names into my stories even when the stories are in English, I always look up the historical context and try to use names that a parent would give their child in that context. I'm sorry for naming and shaming but in one tdv fic Alfred's surname was Smith and I had to put down my phone because it broke my immersion so badly xD

2. Enjoyment

Historical accuracy can also be a characterisation thing!!! With crown prince rudolf of austria specifically his whole appeal as a character comes from his neuroses, and his neuroses are the specific way they are because of his specific position and status, and all that those entail in his historical context. It makes a story so much more interesting if these are properly taken into account 👀

3. What's the purpose of fanfic?

To me personally the purpose of writing and posting FANfic, as opposed to writing other stories, is threefold:

Making a point about the original story (is it a fix-it fic? An AU reimagining? A canon-compliant elaboration on something I think could expand upon a character's personality or two characters' relationship? These approaches all comment on the original work and its themes and characters.)

Personal enjoyment/self indulgence (I write what I would like to read)

Hopefully connecting with other fans (persuading them to see my Vision re specific characters/relationships, the setting, or the work as a whole; keeping the fandom alive; inspiring other people to make fanwork; providing entertainment; finding people who are the same kind of insane as you and making friends)

To me, putting historical accuracy into my fic or drawing inspiration from history fulfills all of these goals. With the first one: the original work usually comments on its era in some way as well, so drawing inspiration for the fic from that era complements it and keeps them grounded together. IRL history can also give you fun ideas to put in. W the second one: I love late 19th century history specifically and historical accuracy is my kink KSLFPEPDOFO. W the third one: I like sharing weird/funny/interesting historical facts w people so we can enjoy them together 😌 I also like Informing people of things that happened in history so hopefully they can have as much fun w the knowledge as I do. I try not to do this unsolicitedly and in general try to avoid criticising anyone for historical inaccuracies without being asked to because that's boring, I'm not trying to be cinema sins here

4. Exceptions

Sometimes historical inaccuracy is more fun than historical accuracy, though this is highly personal - you just have to do what you think is best and accept that something you enjoy might be something that breaks another person's suspension of disbelief (and hence makes them not enjoy the story). My personal metrics are roughly:

Sojblfpldlpf fun fact an unnamed person and I had a conversation about rudolf's probably not existing [redacted] register last night and while writing a fic about it would be historically inaccurate, the conclusions we arrived at about it were pretty funmy and interesting. With gay and homosexual implications

One of my favourite pastimes is to comb over crown prince rudolf's life and purposefully misinterpret random things as gay KSOGODPFOTK 😌😌😌 it's a good way to get fic ideas. So um yeah idk where I was going with this post haha