#you best believe i wrote more to this sucker

[tommarvoloriddlesdiary]

Tom is not nervous; that would be ridiculous.

He has been waiting for this moment for years. It is now so close—literally in the palm of his hand—so he is not nervous. Still, he takes a deep breath, suddenly lightheaded, and reminds himself to continue steadily breathing.

Much to the insistence of his peers, when Tom turned seventeen last December, he quickly took advantage of the remaining holiday break and apparated to Gringotts for a Blood Inheritance test. Upon discovering his ancestry (unsurprising, but the confirmation was most definitely appreciated), he read through the dusty old grimoires left in his family vault and catalogued the sparse artefacts.

Most were utterly destroyed with time. Whatever charms had protected each item had long since wavered, with no one to recast them. However, he was able to salvage one.

He admires the dull shine of the golden band and the gleaming black stone of the Gaunt Ring. This heirloom, his heirloom (and isn’t that still a thrilling thought), has been a welcome companion these past several months. And now, on this cool Samhain night, it awaits his command.

The grimoires had no recent entries. Most seemed to stop well before this century, but what remained still gave startling insight. So as written, Tom twists the ring once, twice, and on the final spin, he watches as a faint light starts glowing and growing in intensity.

“This is it,” he shudders. The ring gets colder and nearly unbearable to hold. “I finally get to meet-“

Suddenly its light dims to something not much more substantial than a Lumos, and—he’s taken aback because surely not—classical music plays from the ring’s stone. It’s a quiet and peaceful melody that he swears is coming more from his head than anywhere else.

“We’re sorry,” A deep guttural and grinding voice speaks out, causing Tom to flinch and cover his ears. A terrible mistake, he quickly realises, as the ring presses the words louder and closer into his ear. “But the deceased you are summoning is currently unavailable.”

Unavailable?

Bewildered, Tom asks, “What?” But the voice carries on without pause.

“Your reunion is important to us. Please hold while we connect you with the next available Master of Death.”

“What?!” Panicking as the stone grows brighter than it ever had, Tom throws the ring some meters away, reflexively shields his head with his arms and waits for some sort of impact-explosion-something because what bloody else would be happening-!

Everything is eerily quiet for far too long until he hears soft footsteps snapping the fallen twigs littering the ground and a susurration of robes over leaves, their sound coming steadily closer.

“For someone who has done the unimaginable and gone out of their way to escape Death’s inevitable clutch, you are a sorry sight. Definitely not what I was expecting.”

Tom peeks through his arms. He first notices stars on a black so dark he is sure he had fallen over and was now staring at the night sky from his attempt to brace himself. His eyes follow the trickling pattern, nearly alive with movement until it stops, a sharp divide against the smooth column of a throat.

The celestial embodiment of the Black Family Tree continues, “You look like a rollie pollie. Do they have those in this dimension?”

Embarrassed, Tom realises he hadn’t fallen. No, he only tucked into himself much like he used to do at the orphanage long before he came into his specialness, his magical-ness, and figured out how to fight back.

He stands quickly, brushes his shoulder, casting a wandless cleaning charm with the movement, and looks up, only for his words to die before he can even open his mouth.

He never knew eyes could be such a beautiful shade of green.

[saksukei]

simon ‘ghost’ riley and his love languages

masterlist | i think i may have wrote too much??

there’s one thing lieutenant simon ghost riley knew when he began dating you. he had to be the best version of himself or at least try. you were the only person he met that he ever wanted to try for.

i. words of affirmation

initially, simon has trouble adjusting to calling you any pet names and just calls you by your name. it isn’t until he gets comfortable enough to say, “love” which is his go to nickname. he says them only in private though.

and then it’s nicknames galore. he calls you his sunshine because he literally adores your smile so much!!! the type to say, “i brought flowers for you. they needed sunshine and you were the obvious choice.” and he also says things like, “my darling angel” when you get him a cup of tea.

most importantly, if you ever do something that’s like daunting or difficult for you or if you learn something he’s gonna say “that’s my girl, always so intelligent.” if the two of you ever hit the gym together and you hit more reps than your regular ones, he’s gonna be so happy for you. “atta girl,” he kisses your cheek as he pats your back.

ii. gifts

he wasn’t very heavy on gift giving. that was until he saw something that he knew you’d like and bought it. and the smile that graced your face with the stars in your eyes made him want to do it more often.

and he felt his heart jump when he saw you cherish the letters he’d written when he was deployed. ever since then, he’s been leaving cute little notes for you, making handmade things you’d like such as bracelets, necklaces. he knows how to sew and he sewed a cute little shirt for you. this also brings me to the fact that he likes knitting a lot and loves making mug warmers? it’s endearing really. he can also carve wood apparently? so he makes sweet little decoration pieces for your apartment. (but also lumber jack simon making me insane)

all in all, he loves giving gifts. he’s the type to make a special notebook for just you and put pressed flowers on each page. “got you something you liked, darling.”

iii. acts of service

simon’s strongest way of expressing love is through acts of service. he’s a military man and a firm believer of ‘actions speak louder than words.’ i’ve said it before that his eye for detail is insane and he uses it in the relationship as well. alongside with his ability to literally commit you to memory, he remembers everything. (except birthdays, but he’ll remember yours).

from bending down to tie your shoelaces, to refilling snacks that he knows you like, to picking up heavy stuff, to guiding you with a hand on your waist, everything really!!! can read your facial expressions like it’s the only thing he knows and can immediately figured out what you like and don’t like. “you okay?”

and god, he's also aware of the sidewalk rule! never lets you walk on the outer side. the type to place a hand on corners and edges so that you don’t get hurt. he’s always looking out for you, ensuring you don't have anything in your way. he’ll always stand behind you because he feels it gives him a better chance to protect you.

iv. quality time

such a sucker for spending time with you but that’s mainly because he knows his is limited. and he would never risk not spending another minute with you. from watching movies, to watching you do make up in front of the vanity, to reading books together, training together, having tea. he finds your presence alone to be comforting. it's like you deal with all of his inner thoughts and reservations without even knowing it.

he also enjoyed doing mundane domestic tasks with you like getting groceries, setting up ikea furniture, cooking and cleaning together, honestly he loves it all. especially if there’s some jazz music playing in the background. i can absolutely imagine rubbing a little flour on simon’s face and he’ll get so offended, chasing you around the entire house, pining you down, just to do the same to you.

v. physical touch

simon is hesitant to become physically affectionate. that's not to say that he doesn’t enjoy it, it's just that when you’ve been met with violence all your life, gentleness is hardly something you expect.

but god, did he want to melt into a puddle when you held his hand or when you pressed a sweet kiss to his cheek. he swears he forgot how to breathe. and little by little, he got comfortable. hands hesitant to be on your waist, until that's the only place you found them, his head always nuzzled in the crook of your neck. “this might just be the favorite part of my day,” he says softly.

from lacing fingers, to kissing you the first thing in the morning, once simon’s comfortable, he won’t go a day without being intimate. “c’mere give me a kiss” to “you’re my good luck charm, love.”

[str4ngr]

𝐬𝐢𝐫𝐞𝐧𝐬 𝐜𝐚𝐥𝐥 [ 𝐊Ö𝐍𝐈𝐆 ]

𝐨𝐜𝐭𝐨𝐛𝐞𝐫 𝟐𝟎 | 𝗲𝗹𝗱𝗿𝗶𝘁𝗰𝗵 + 𝘁𝗲𝗻𝘁𝗮𝗰𝗹𝗲𝘀 |

cw: suggestive, non-human/hybrid könig, slightly dubious consent, fem!reader

notes: an eldritch is a horrific monster, often of otherwordly origin, in this case, a sea monster.

𝐕𝐀𝐂𝐀𝐓𝐈𝐎𝐍𝐈𝐍𝐆 by the sea, after a hectic chapter of life, was more than the word 'relaxing' defined. you sat at the beach, having woke up to early due to jet lag, but there you were, watching the dark shy turn morning yellow.

watching the strange figure form in the corner of your eye.

you jerked, looking over to your right, curious. that shadow that made no appearance when you looked. sighing, you turned back, bringing your knees to your chest the cold air making the san a little colder under your bare legs.

it was strange, you almost remembered this moment before. maybe when you were younger, maybe when you came to this very same beach after a previous stressful moment.

but you knew he was with you.

freezing cold, yet you didn't flinch, your skin crawled with goosebumps as those same snakes slithered up your arms.

"you are back, meine frau."

his voice was low, right against you ear, a comforting murmur as more of him wraps around you. tentacles, they were tentacles, but you didn't mind, they were soft, a bit wet, but at least not slimy. they slipped under the thin cotton of your night top, slithering up to wrap around the plush flesh of your breasts, twisting to gently pinch on your nipples, making you moan in pleasure.

you whimper, whine, moaning softly as his human appendages wrapped around your shoulder, pulling you into his lap.

"i have missed you so dearly."

his voice was a sweet coo, lips dragging down your ear as the tentacles traveling beyond your collarbone. you sighed as you felt the thin tips of rolling flesh push past your shivering lips, a warm welcome coming from you in a sigh,

"you're so warm, könig."

he chuckled, petting your hair, his tentacles wrapping around your tongue, the suckers doing as their name suggests,

"the sea is not warm, engel."

-ˋˏ✄┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈

okay just something i wanted to talk about. first of all, i'm not someone who's super involved with other creators on tumblr, mostly bc im a lazy person, so the author i'm talking ab is not someone i'm close too. @frogchiro is a writer that i really look up too, and she was being harassed by an anon and i genuinely am irritated by the kind of behavior the she received because she wrote about octo! könig.

if you don't like something, scroll.

as of right now, I believe she is completely off tumblr, and i hope the best for her.

translation

1. angel 2. my wife

༒︎ 𝐤𝐢𝐧𝐤𝐭𝐨𝐛𝐞𝐫; 2023 ༒︎

directory

[angelfic]

for the writing game: tasm!Peter Parker, fake dating, and "don't you trust me?" :)

thank you for the request, anon! it’s been ages since i wrote for my fave spidey and i’m a sucker for the fake dating trope sooo here u are <3

tasm!peter parker x reader + fake dating + “don’t you trust me?”

➺ part of my 2k milestone writing game

“Peter,” you hiss, tugging on the back of his shirt to grab his attention when he doesn’t hear you over the blaring music coming from the party downstairs. He turns around, wide eyed and slightly dishevelled. You spot a flash of red and blue in his hand as he shoves his mask into the pocket of his jeans and you gasp. “You said no Spider-Man duties tonight!”

“I know, I know!” Peter winces, not bothering to tell you to keep your voice down since the only other people on the top floor are preoccupied, either far away and making out, or locked up in the bedrooms. He knows you’ve been on his ass to relax and enjoy himself, especially after Aunt May found out about his vigilante activities and forced the two of you to go to one of your classmate’s parties. You take May’s orders very seriously. “I’ve only been out twice tonight, but I swear for the rest of the night I’m staying in.”

“Twice already?” You gape at him, shoulders slumping in disappointment since you should have been paying more attention. Your best friend can be slippery when he wants to be though. “Okay, forget it, we can have fun later. I need your help.”

“What is it?” he asks, standing up straighter and already reaching for the mask.

You roll your eyes and bat his hand away from his pocket. “I don’t need Spidey, I need you. Connor Davies from Biology won’t leave me alone.”

Peter relaxes slightly at the much lower-level threat, but frowns when he registers your words. “Tell him you have a boyfriend or something.”

“I tried,” you deadpan, thinking back on his persistence with irritation. “I said I was here with you, thinking that was vague enough, but that he’d get the hint. When that didn’t work, I said we were together and he still didn’t believe me. I lost him now, but–”

“Quick, look at me,” Peter says quietly, one hand going to your waist as the other cups your face. His eyes dart to something behind you before he meets your gaze again, determined. “I don’t quite think he got the hint. He’s coming over.”

“What?” you whisper, a little alarmed at how close you two are all of a sudden. “What are we going to do?”

“Don’t you trust me?” Peter asks, the corners of his mouth tilting up slightly as he raises a brow in questioning. You’re about to bring up the time when he took you for a swing around the city and accidentally let you fall three stories before catching you because a bird flew too close to his face. Then you remember the pressing matter at hand and nod that yes, you do trust Peter. “Good.”

Peter closes the distance and kisses you with a certainty that you’d never expect from him. Your lips move together like you’ve done this a million times before and you hadn’t realised how badly you wanted this until now. You barely register the footsteps going back downstairs when you grip the front of Peter’s flannel to pull him closer and he takes this as a signal to kiss you firmly, his hand gripping your waist a little tighter.

You aren’t sure if you ever plan on pulling away until the door that Peter was previously leaning against swings open, causing him to stumble as a very drunk and very giggly couple comes staggering out. You take a quick step back from Peter to let the couple through, finding it hard to make eye contact with him once they’re gone.

“You, uh, think he got the hint?” you ask, laughing nervously. Peter looks like he’s holding back a grin when he gently takes a hold of your hand to bring you closer again.

“I think he got the hint about 3 minutes ago,” Peter points out, amused. “Biology might be super awkward though.”

“Well, at least I know what to do next time,” you shrug, half of you joking. The other half wants there to be a next time.

Peter gasps in mock-offence. “Wow, is that all I am to you? Not even going to take me out to dinner first?”

“How about an ice cream date?” you ask boldly. You and Peter have gone out on late-night ice cream runs ever since he got his licence, but you’d never stuck the word date on the end.

Peter smiles openly this time, already dragging you towards the stairs and you find yourself mirroring his grin. “Ice cream date it is. You know Aunt May is gonna make you recall the entire night to her later, right?”

“Yeah, well, what’s new?” you snort, well aware of May’s intentions towards the two of you. “You better get the camera out.”

[tobiasdrake]

Having talked a bit about both Chi-Chi/Goku and Bulma/Vegeta, I wanted to talk a bit more about Chi-Chi and Goku's relationship, and why it works for these particular characters.

As I talked about before, Goku is an aromantic character. He's also probably asexual or at least on the asexual spectrum. He's obviously not sex-repulsed as demonstrated by the existence of Gohan and Goten, but he's disinterested in the pursuit of romance or sexuality. Or any social endeavors, for that matter; Disappearing for years at a time while none of his friends get so much as a word from him was normal for Goku long before he ever even had a family.

It's a practice he retained even after he "settled down" with Chi-Chi.

"See ya later, Chi-Chi! I'm meeting up with all my old pals for the first time in five years."

This is just how Goku is. He doesn't have much of a social instinct at all. He has hyperfixations he wants to pursue, and he has varying degrees of "I do/do not like this person". but he isn't driven to socialize. The reason he's living with Chi-Chi is because he made a promise that he would live with Chi-Chi.

Yamcha's explanation here is Goku's sole conception of romance. They have to live in the same house now because that's what Goku promised her. That is Goku's one and only wedding vow.

He. Uh. He's not even very good at honoring that much.

Goku you literally only understand the barest possible minimum of what this social contract means and you're still failing at it. How do you even.

In any case, what makes Chi-Chi/Goku work is the innocence of it. Because Chi-Chi's comprehension of what they're actually doing here is as limited as Goku's is.

That's it. That is Chi-Chi's comprehension of romance. She is backest of backwoods Alabama Royalty. In this scene, she was five seconds away from letting herself be manipulated into thinking that a man that did this a minute ago was secretly in love with her:

See, it's okay 'cause he said "I love you" afterward so I guess this was all just a misunderstanding!

I'm not exaggerating when I say that Chi-Chi dodged a fucking bullet given the quality of relationship she could so easily have been suckered into. This girl was destined to be a domestic abuse victim.

...uh. Y'know.

Apart from one of the grossest jokes Toriyama ever wrote, I mean.

Point is, Chi-Chi is in the same boat as Goku. For Goku, this all started over a misunderstanding. He didn't know what Chi-Chi was talking about when she said she wanted him to ask for her hand.

For Chi-Chi, it's exactly the same. This all started over a misunderstanding. She didn't know that Goku just learned what girls are like three days ago and had a bad habit for a while of groping people to discern their genders.

Both of these kids are naive, innocent morons.

This innocence, this total lack of comprehension for what they are actually doing for both parties, is what makes their oddball contractual dynamic come across as funny and inoffensive. They aren't in love with one another in a romantic sense; They're playing house on a large scale.

The first day they met, they made a contractual agreement off of mutual dumbassery. The second day they met, the got married to fulfill that contract. Now they're trying to do the things that Chi-Chi was socially conditioned to believe you're supposed to do when you're married. That is their entire relationship with one another.

There is an innocence to all of this that allows the aroace Son Goku to be in a hetero dynamic without his partner coming across as predatory.

This, incidentally, is also why it's for the best that nothing ever came of this:

Yeah. Oh yeah. This. If it had been Bulma instead of Chi-Chi, this absolutely would have come across as predatory.

With Goku being aroace, there's essentially no possible way these two characters could get together romantically that wouldn't seem unbelievably manipulative on Bulma's part. Unlike Chi-Chi, she knows exactly what she's doing. She's super-intelligent, socially literate, and supremely amoral.

If these two got together, it would absolutely feel like she was taking advantage of Goku's naivety. That's why, though their relationship is arguably the strongest and the single-most important interpersonal relationship in the series:

It vitally remains platonic to this day.

This is, itself, the beauty of Toriyama's character writing. His plots have varying degrees of jankiness to them, his "traditional values" and sometimes flagrant sexism bleeds through his work, and there are some really gross moments here and there. But one thing he grasps well is the unique dynamics of every interpersonal relationship.

At no point are these characters simply "A group of friends". Every relationship between two characters is unique, built upon their own personal identities and histories with one another. Tenshinhan's relationship with Goku is not the same as his relationship with Gohan, his relationship with Krillin, or his relationship with Vegeta.

And they often defy easy categorization into boxes like "The Lovers" and "The Pals" and "The Besties". Goku's relationship with Bulma or Vegeta or Chi-Chi is what it is, and it is nothing else, but what exactly it is isn't easily pinned down into a neat, digestible semblance of normalcy. It just. Is.

[fandomfluffandfuck]

It’s been a bit since I wrote about feral!Bucky but I genuinely cannot put into words how much Steve (and me) loves him

Bucky now associates physical touch with pain, with torture. He hides from visitors, scampers away from touch, and never lets anyone get close to him. Nevertheless, Steve wakes up from a nap one day with Bucky curled into his side, and Steve is pretty sure that if he could, Bucky would be purring like a kitten. 

“Bucky?” Steve asks tentatively, trying not to spook him. Bucky doesn’t seem to be upset by Steve sudden consciousness, instead just making a small noise and wrapping his arms around Steve’s chest possessively. He mumbles something that sounds like “Stevie”. 

“You alright, angel?” Steve asks with a grin, confused but pleased with the change in Bucky’s demeanor. He knew Bucky had always been closer with Steve, trusting him more than others, but this was still new territory. He slides his arms around Bucky, which causes Bucky to make a happy noise that Steve hasn’t heard in years. 

————

Also, maybe Bucky’s a bit territorial now that he’s been given more freedom. The poor thing doesn’t know what to do with himself. However, after consulting a bunch of psychiatrists and Dr. Banner, Steve knows what he needs to do. He empties out an old walk in closet, and fits it with as many soft things as he can find. He buys as many plushies as he can afford, and stuffs the closet with them. He remembers how much Bucky hates harsh lights now and decides to buy those pretty string lights that Peter has in his room at the tower. He shows it to Bucky when it’s finished and they’ve both had a good day. 

“It’s all your own space, Buck. I’m never going to come in here without your permission. I swear it.” Steve says, holding Bucky’s hand, which lately Bucky won’t let go of. 

“It’s… mine?” Bucky says, slowly, tentatively. He’s scared that all of this will be taken away. 

“Yeah, Buck. Yours.” Steve says, as comforting and securely as I can, trying to make his confidence transfer to Bucky. 

Steve is tackled in a hug, and there are tears wetting his shirt. He hugs Bucky back, pressing a kiss to the top of his head. 

“Thank you.” The whisper is so soft, so small, that it’s almost imperceptible. But Steve hears it. He’ll always hear Bucky. 

————

Then, of course, there’s the moment when Steve’s telling Bucky about life back in Brooklyn, a topic that Bucky is very interested in. He’s going on about something that they did to piss off Becca (“we were teenagers, Buck. The best entertainment we had was making that poor girl mad.”) when Bucky stops him. 

“I remember.”

Steve drops the pencil he’s holding. “You… You do?” There’s so much hope in his voice. There’s unshed tears in Bucky’s eyes, and a small smile on his face. 

“Yes. Rebecca. My Becca.” Bucky’s smile gets bigger, as does Steve. Steve rushes to his side, hugging him. Bucky’s crying, and Steve’s not far behind him. Bucky laughs, and it is the best goddamn sound Steve Rogers has ever heard. “She was so mad. I can’t believe we did that.” He giggles, and it makes Steve feel like maybe everything will be okay. 

previous feral!Bucky

Me too! I am such a fucking sucker for feral Bucky

I am beside myself thinking about Bucky being so touch adverse only for Steve to wake up and find him tucked into his side 😫 and there's something so special, too, about Bucky having moments in recovery where he's so suddenly more himself. It makes it so much more painful to see the rapid realignment. It's as if he's found two loose ends and knotted them together as quickly as his fingers would allow to ensure that he doesn't misplace them again. Gah! It's so just 🤌🏻ouch🤌🏻

Oh my god!! The territorial thing, yes! I've had this in my notes for actual years, waiting for me to come back to it and do something with it:

Sometimes, during Bucky's recovery, he latches onto things with this ferocity, holding until his fingers hurt, distraught when he accidentally breaks it, if the object of desire is fragile, claiming "mine." He won't let anyone touch it, not unless it's over his dead body. Steve has genuinely never been so distraught and proud of someone for grabbing a mug and declaring it as their own. Bucky deserves to have his own things.

Same wavelength, lmao

That's so fucking sweet, though! I love the idea of Bucky having his own space. (And I love the idea of Peter's room in the tower having fairy lights. Fuck yeah.)

Ah! That last part is the fucking best. Steve will never be as eager to be interrupted as he is when he's in the middle of a story, and Bucky stops him because he remembers. He doesn't need to tell him again, he remembers. Steve could fucking kiss him. Steve will kiss him. Steve will pick him up and spin him around, clutching his waist all the while, a huge grin on his face.

In conclusion:

Thank you so, so much for this!!

[steddieunderdogfics]

This week’s writer spotlight feature is:  Pricklywhicket/@messessentialist ! Prickleywhicket has four fics published to AO3 -- All in the Steddie tag!

Our anonymous nominator recommends the following works by pricklywhicket:

so let's sneak in from the cheap seats, honey

it's supposed to be fun (turning twenty-one)

start by pulling him out of the fire

"Sadie is so super talented in the way she describes literally everything. She is so good at writing and it's a shame that she's flown under the radar because she's not the quickest at putting things out there." -- Anonymous

Below the cut, Pricklywhicket answered some questions about their writing process and some of their recommended work!

Why do you write Steddie?

Why do any of us write anything? Because we want the story to exist in the world, and it doesn’t yet, so we gotta hike up our pants and do it ourselves!

What’s your favorite trope to READ?

Hurt/Comfort. I’m always a sucker for the blorbos taking care of one another, in whatever form that takes. This has always been true, across a truly astronomical number of fandoms I’ve found myself dabbling in over the years.

What’s your favorite trope to WRITE?

…actually, probably hurt/comfort! I just need to get those little dudes some validation and unconditional positive regard, okay?

What’s your favorite Steddie fic?

I’m sure I won’t be the first one to say this, but: I HAVE TO PICK ONE????? Okay, alright. I can do this. I’m gonna say…Sanctuary by SpicedSage.

Is there a trope you’re excited to explore in a future work but haven’t yet?

I’ve only written canon or canon-adjacent fic so far, so I’m eager to work on something that’s completely AU. I think there’s a unique challenge to keeping characters recognizable as themselves in a world that might not have all the same contexts that made them into that person.

What is your writing process like?

I would love to say it’s super organized and well-planned, but the truth is it’s mostly about routine and responsibility. I set aside time to do it every day, even if I can only tap out a few sentences. I’m not very strict about writing in a straight line - I can stop a scene if it’s giving me trouble, write a note about what I think happens in some [brackets], and move on to something that I have more fully fleshed-out ideas for. Sometimes writing the next scene helps you know more about what needs to happen in the current one. 

Do you have any writing quirks?

I'm sure my betas would say yes 🙃 I tend to write a lot of dialogue - a lot of my revision process is going back through and realizing I have two pages of a conversation with no indication of what’s physically happening in the world around the speakers.

Do you prefer posting when you’ve finished writing or on a schedule?

Definitely when I’m finished. Prior to my ‘23 bang fic, I had never written anything chaptered. I knew going in that I could NOT start posting if it wasn’t finished, because I’ve been burned too many times by abandoned works. I didn’t want to do that to people reading my fic, and the best way to avoid it is to finish before you post.

Which fic are you most proud of?

Easily start by pulling him out of the fire. The biggest, most ambitious thing I’ve ever attempted - I still kind of can’t believe I wrote 85k.

How did you get the idea for start by pulling him out of the fire?

Like most terrible ideas, it was spawned in a fandom discord chat. We were discussing the tendency of Steddie fics to centralize the party at Steve’s house, because his parents are never there anyway. And then someone mentioned what if the parents came home and found their house occupied, and someone else mentioned Wayne being there, and it just sort of…spiraled out from there.

When writing start by pulling him out of the fire, what was something you didn’t expect?

I had no idea, going in, that I was going to write a comprehensive history of the Wayne and Eddie Munson relationship. I started writing it where I did to give some background on Wayne’s existing distaste for the elder Harrington, and then I just…kept writing. Over the course of a month or two I wrote 20k of WayneAndEddie that I had no idea was in me - it just kept coming.

What inspired it's supposed to be fun (turning twenty-one)?

@wynnyfryd. It was a gift for her birthday. We were talking about our mutual love of Letterkenny, and she mentioned that the episode was her favorite and wouldn’t it be funny if someone wrote… and the rest is history.

What was your favorite part to write from it's supposed to be fun (turning twenty-one)?

I had an unreasonable amount of fun with that one in general. But I think my favorite part was Eddie polling the party about what Steve means to them all. It was fun to sort of put myself in each character’s shoes and think about how they would answer. Plus y’know, any excuse to unironically love on Steve Harrington.

How do/did you feel writing so let's sneak in from the cheap seats, honey?

I believe my exact words upon deciding to write it were “jingles miserably to a blank google doc.” This was a classic case of saying “god I wish there was a fic where—” and having friends tell me that it was now my responsibility to write it. I’m glad I did, though. I love that story, and it proved to me that I could write sex and publish it and not burst into flames. I also just really, really love summer storms. And Wayne’s use of the singular ‘herpe.’

What was the most difficult part of writing so let's sneak in from the cheap seats honey?

Getting over the fear of publishing something E-rated. It was just something I hadn’t done, and I had a lot of anxiety that people were not going to respond well to it. I made three people individually review the sex scenes before I even asked anyone to beta the full fic. Of course I was worried for nothing, the reception for that fic was super lovely and gave me the confidence boost I needed to attempt start by pulling him out of the fire!

Do you have a favorite scene and/or line from any of your fics?

This is like asking me to pick a favorite child. I’ll say this: most of my favorite lines in start by pulling him out of the fire were taken directly from conversations @wormdebut and I had about the fic. She’s my number one cheerleader and sounding board, and sometimes she’s so goddamn funny that I just have to include it. You have her to thank, for instance, for Steve quite literally dropping his croissant when he first sees Eddie in glasses.

Do you have any upcoming projects or fics you’d like to share/promote?

I have a couple of irons in the fire, but nothing I’m ready to share just yet! I’ve been taking a breather from writing (blame baldur’s gate 3, okay) but my WIPs are still very much IP. Stay tuned!

Outside of these questions, Is there anything YOU would like to add?

Not that I can think of!

Thank you to our author, Pricklywhicket, and our anonymous nominator! See more of pricklywhicket's works featured on our page throughout the day!

Writer’s Spotlight is every Wednesday! Want to nominate an author? You can nominate them here!

[mundanemoongirl]

I just finished Gideon the Ninth and I have THOUGHTS

I’ve seen people talk about this book for a while but never about the plot, so I pretty much went in blind. I wish I knew before reading it that there is a glossary at the end. I was so confused for most of the book and would have gotten invested a lot faster if I understood the terms. That one was on me. My bad.

Okay so obviously there are some issues—every book has their own. It took me over a hundred pages to really get into the book because I didn’t understand the world or plot. I think more can be explained at the beginning. It’s such a fascinating world; Muir should give us much more of it. My other main issue is that sometimes there are paragraphs after paragraphs of dialogue and each line has a dialogue tag. There’s only two people talking. You don’t have to keep telling me who they are.

For a book I thought I wouldn’t like for the longest time, I was pleasantly surprised. Like I love it so much that I got on here to share my thoughts, which isn’t something I usually do. It’s not my favorite, but it sure is unique and entertaining.

I love the different houses and how they interact with each other. I actually wish we learned more about them. We understand the Ninth House, but what is life like on the different houses. I at least liked the little bits I learned about the fourth with the child soldiers. I also like that each necromancer has a different title because each house serves a different function. But seriously, how are you gonna casually write about princesses and give no details about what they do on their planets?

This book has some of the best character development I have ever seen. Especially with Harrow. She and Camilla were my favorites so I’m glad they made it to the end. I also think it’s really funny how there’s all these fantasy names and then there’s Camilla.

I like when Gideon gets more depth too. She went from seeing the fourth as bad teens to trying to protect them. That was one of my favorite parts.

I can’t believe Gideon forgave Harrow. I’m glad she did because I love them, but I have held grudges over much less offenses. I like that Gideon comes off as abrasive at first but the more you learn about her you realize she’s really compassionate. It’s amazing considering the environment she grew up in. Such a great character.

I LOVE the trials. I just love when people slowly figure things out, and this is also when I started understanding necromancy so I was really into the learning. I also appreciated that even though Harrow and Gideon hated each other, they made such a good team and that without trying, Gideon made such a good cavalier.

I often say I like the idea of enemies to lovers and not the common execution of it, but this book embodies that idea perfectly. Gideon and Harrow never become lovers, but the emotional growth they go through and the passion they have for each other kinda represents that feeling. They don’t need to be lovers for this trope to work. This is exactly what I’ve been looking for instead of just an asshole male lead who was never actually going to kill the female lead and they’re both attracted to each other from the start. Nah, these two despised each other and still worked through it. Other authors need to take notes.

The ending was so good. I loved Cytherea flirting with Gideon while fighting her. There’s something about evil characters having a soft spot for a character that is so appealing to me. I’m also an absolute sucker for characters from the far off past existing in the present. Give me this and I will love you forever.

Cytherea is actually a lot like the villain in my wip for the exact reasons I like her. The more I thought about it, the more surprised I was about how much my wip ressembled parts of Gideon the Ninth considering I wrote this stuff before reading the book. The houses are like my clans, the necromancy is similar to the spirits, and both sets of characters are shuttled off to a new location that is full of death. That’s probably like I like this book so much.

Also—the quote “And God said, ‘And I am not enough.’” is one of the best quotes I have ever read. It solely makes up for all the book’s flaws.

So that’s it. I hope Harrow the Ninth is just as good. I get scared to read sequels now because certain sequels are genuinely the worst things I’ve read. I also hope the next book goes more in depth with the worldbuilding. I’m excited to continue this series.

[madlittlecriminal]

Hiya! It was my 21st on the 17th! Could I get a birthday request with any of the following characters?

Spencer Reid Miguel O'Hara Eggsy Jonathan Crane Hobie Brown.

As always Im a sucker for confession stories and major fluffiness haha

GN!Reader's Birthday [blurbs]

omg happy belated birthday love! i hope your birthday was amazing! i did all of them because i love them all and i couldn't decide.

Warnings: age gap, fluff, mentions of alcohol

note: hi. if you're new, welcome! i typically write my characters soft. any character here that you feel is out of character is because im a firm believer that they are soft strictly for their s/o no matter how grumpy or evil they are.

------

Spencer Reid (established relationship):

With a memory like his, your birthday would always end up in you being spoiled with your favorite things. This year was different since you both were dating, and he wanted to make it extra special for you. Not only did he get you your favorite cake flavor, but he also took the whole week off of work for you, wanting to make it extra special for you. He cooked a dinner for you...but the recipe was wrong, so the food was a bit saltier than anything else, so you both just ordered take out instead and watched your favorite movie on the couch and cuddling.

Miguel O'Hara (friends to lovers/confession):

You were one of the few people he liked, so when Jess mentioned it was your birthday, he mumbled a soft "mierda" (shit) before rushing out of his office and heading to a nearby panadería (bakery) and bought a cake, asking the man behind the counter to write your name on it and rushing back to the Society building. Funny enough, your name was now smeared all over the cake, making you laugh when you saw it. You would thank him, and he'd smile. To you, that was the best birthday gift you could ask for...right? Well, it would've been if Miguel didn't end up turning into a major softy and confessed his love for you.

Eggsy (established relationship):

He would invite you to a pub to celebrate with a few drinks after taking you out to dinner. Naturally, he would tell the waiter that it was your birthday, so the other waiters and waitresses would come out with a dessert and sing the happy birthday song. You were in between wanting to hate him or wanting to love him since he got you a free dessert but made a big deal out of it. At the pub, he'd buy your favorite drink (alcohol-free or not) and would simply just talk to you about his job that you knew had nothing to do with tailoring suits. The night would eventually end with him giving you a ride home and kissing you goodnight.

Jonathan Crane (friends to lovers/confession):

This man was something else. He wasn't sure what to do for your birthday and he was stressed. The one time when you both became best friends, he gifted you the knowledge of knowing he was Scarecrow...but that was two years ago. He was losing his mind on what to do, so he kept it simple and invited you to his place for a movie. He tried baking a cake, he really did, but this man was a whiz in the kitchen of a lab, not of a home. He gave you a shy smile when he showed you the burnt cake and you thanked him for at least trying. Instead, he lit a pumpkin shaped candle and told you to make a wish; he decorates early for Halloween, don't judge him. The night ends with you cuddled up against him after he told you he loved you more than a friend.

Hobie Brown (established relationship):

To say that he confused you in the best way was an understatement. He told you birthdays weren't his thing, but it seemed like for you, he would do absolutely anything. He bought you cupcakes to celebrate and told you his gift would be different than every other year. It kind of saddened you since you loved going on protests with him, but alas, you waited for the gift. When he took out his electric guitar and played a song you didn't recognize with it. Once he was done, you tilted your head to the side, and he told you he wrote it for you as a gift for your birthday. You would then thank him and gave him a kiss on his cheek. You both shared the cupcakes, but you drew a smiley face on his cheek with some icing, causing him to laugh and kiss you softly.

[sageandlily]

September 2023 Favourite Reads (Ateez edition)

🍁 Hi! September suprisingly ended quite fast and here are my fanfic recs that i have been spend reading for last month. I wish that both the stories and the writers (who are amazing, beautiful and talented!) gets more recognition and appreciation. Speaking of appreciation, i wanted to apologize to the writers for rarely engaging in the fic (reblog/comment) bcs quite frankly, i'm a bit shy to reaching out but started from now, i'll try my best to engage with you all😁🧡.

🍁Also if you have any fics recs or wanted to promote your own story then don't be shy to interact with this post (reblog/reply/whatever you want)!

(sorry for the grammar error, english is my 3rd language so sometimes my brain was a bit fuzzy on how some sentences supposed to be written😵‍💫)

The Crown Prince (San x reader) by @atxxzist

As a sucker for kingdom and fantasy story setting, this one immediately caught me by just the summary.

Room With A View (Yeosang x reader) by @stayteezdreams

This fic just radiates warmth and i wish somebody would throw me a letter in paper plane 🥹

Butterflies (🔞Mingi x reader) by @hwaslayer

This is just so homey and super cute. Also, i believe that Mingi in real life would act like that towards his daughter (if he decided to have one)

The Champion (San x reader) by @daybreakx

Ateez x Harry Potter fic?? please sign me up real quick! bcs without a blink, i'd read it. Also, slytherin San as triwizard champions?? pheww😮‍💨

Inception *on going* (🔞Poly!OT8 Ateez x reader) by @remedyx

I was so immersed by the story to the point that i created a moodboard for the worldbuilding. Any kingdom based story with dragon in it will always catch my attention quickly. Please check this one out!

Wonderwall *on going* (🔞Poly!OT8 Ateez x reader) by @atzfilm

The author is one of my fav ateez fanfic author here in tumblr so when i saw that they wrote a new story, i immediately check it out and ofc i'm in love with the way the story was written. Can't wait for the new chapter update! (also Soobin😭)

Siren's Spell *on going* (🔞Wooyoung x reader) by @spooo00oky

I accidentally found this fic in my for you page and i got hooked. I love how every character was written and how easy it is to get immersed in the worldbuilding. I love Wooyoung so much and i can't wait to see how their story continue

Project D (🔞Hongjoong x reader, Yunho x reader) by @setsugekka

If you like street racer, bad boy, rollercoater dynamic between reader and both men?? then please read this one. I have no words to describe it but it was sooo good! must read!

Stay (🔞Yeosang x reader) by @sorryimananti-romantic

Archer Yeosang?? princess reader?? count me in immediately!! i just love the dynamic between them. This fic genuinely made me feel a lot of emotions and now i wish i could encounter Yeosang while i'm out in the wood irl

Thank you for checking this post and i hope that i could make post like this every month until 2023 end. See you🧡

[lexosaurus]

Keep Your Enemies Closer

A little Tech Hunter AU oneshot I wrote for DP Angstfest 2023! I based this off of @kinglazrus' AU fic for the @dpauzine in which Tucker is the Red Hunter. It's been stuck in my brain ever since, so I couldn't resist writing her AU for this event!

[ao3]

****

Keep your friends close, and your enemies closer.

That's what people always said, anyway. It's what actors spouted in Hollywood blockbusters as their characters sipped their old fashioned in the dimly lit bar. It's what people typed in their chat logs online, thinking of themselves as high and mighty, very cool, not to be messed with, while they cracked open their fifth serving-sized bag of Doritos that day.

But this wasn't a Hollywood blockbuster. It wasn't Tucker talking up himself to random usernames online.

As he looked at Danny, who was animatedly chatting to Sam about some recently released video game that Tucker couldn’t pretend to care about anymore, he knew that this wasn't just a cool verse. It was real, at least to him. 

“The final boss was way too easy,” Sam was saying. “It's like the devs weren't even trying.”

“I beat it in like five seconds flat,” Danny agreed.

“Yeah, because you exploited the armor glitch,” Sam said. “If you played the game like it was supposed to be played, the final boss would have taken at least a little longer.”

Danny tsked his tongue. “It’s not my fault that I’m obviously just one step ahead of the devs. And you, actually.”

“Come on,” Sam laughed, catching onto the mood. “Stop messing with me.”

Danny grinned back at her, his fangs poking out over his lips. “Samantha Manson, when have I ever messed with you?”

Tucker ducked his head before his face could show. Though, each day that passed seemed to allow that quiet mask to slip over his face far more easily than the day before. And he wasn't even talking about the little yellow mask that lived under his skin.

He remembered the day he'd pieced it all together. The day all the lies, all the little breadcrumb clues, suddenly snapped into place.

He'd been home, as usual, watching videos of the rapidly increasing ghost attacks targeting the city. And of course, at the epicenter of it all was Phantom.

Danny fucking Phantom.

He remembered Danny calling him, his face popping up on Tucker’s home screen, and Tucker pausing the video and holding up his phone to see the two faces side by side. The same smile, the same freckles, the same jaw and haircut and they were the same. 

He couldn’t believe it. But…it made sense. And maybe that was the worst part because it meant that his friend, his best friend, was dead. And worse, he’d turned into a monster. 

But when? When had he died? Was it that “accident” that he sometimes referenced? The day he’d gotten hurt by some of his parents’ equipment?

It didn’t matter. Because now, he was Phantom. But how was he Phantom? The ghost that Tucker loathed. The ghost that Tucker had long since blamed for turning their safe city into a fucking warzone.

How did his best friend turn into…that? Was death really so horrible that it completely changed a person? 

Or was this always inside Danny, deep down in the recess of his subconscious? So deep, so hidden, that Tucker had never noticed till now.

Some people saw Phantom as a hero, and he seemed to revel in it. His cockiness was overflowing, and he took great pride in arriving at every scene precisely when the new ghost of the week would show up. He'd throw a few puns, assure the crowd that, “Don't worry, citizens! I've got this!”, and then he'd beat the ghost up, suck them in his thermos, and would disappear until the next attack.

Phantom had fooled many of the masses. But despite what Dash's stupid nicknames would suggest, Tucker was no sucker. Even if everyone else had their heads up their ass, he didn't.

Tucker didn’t do anything at first. Maybe he’d just been in too deep of a denial. After all, who wanted to pin the destruction of their city on their fucking best friend? 

But then, he started paying attention. To Danny, the “human,” more. All his little quirks, his habits. The way he seemed to jump when Sam casually put a hand on his shoulder (he’d never used to do that), the way his teeth started to sharpen (humans don’t have fangs), the way his eyes would spark green sometimes (it wasn’t a trick of the light), or how he’d always disappear right before a ghost attack (almost like he knew they were coming).

But Tucker stayed silent. Because if Danny was Phantom, then Danny was dangerous. Who knew what Phantom would do if Tucker revealed that he knew? No, it was better to stay docile, not rock the boat, not put his life at risk. Just play it cool.

That plan only worked for so long.

The breaking point wasn’t an explosion of flashy lights so much as it was a seed, planted, but not yet even watered. It was Tucker booting up his virtual computer and opening Tor after school like any other day. 

The usual usernames were chatting in his group. People working on their various projects, coming to the chat room for tips or just talking about whatever other topic was on their mind. This was typical—welcome, even—after the confusing mess that had been Tucker’s every other waking moment as of late.

And then the conversation took a turn. 

To Phantom.

Sporksmith: I haven't wrapped my head around whether Phantom is a good guy or not. ChaseK: It's sus that as soon as the ghosts started showing up, so did he. Sporksmith: That's what I'm thinking, but the guy takes so many beatings a week. I feel like it's more likely that he's crawling out of the same dimensional holes that they are because the dude has family here or something. Mole: That's probably it. He uses modern slang, so it's pretty obvious he died recently.

This wasn’t the first time they’d talked about Phantom. He was a fascinating subject and under much national scrutiny. But this time, Tucker finally stepped in.

GoldenFryer: You guys don't know what you're talking about. ChaseK: You know something then? GoldenFryer: Yeah, I have some inside info. Can't say much, but Phantom isn't who he seems. He's dangerous. Sporksmith: You sound like a guy who's got something up his sleeve.

He hadn't, at that point. But still, it needled his mind. He was closest to Phantom, wasn't he? Even if Danny himself didn't know. Of everyone, wasn't it Tucker’s responsibility to do something about this?

To set the soul of his dead best friend free?

GoldenFryer: Not yet, but maybe I should.

Of course, he couldn't do it by himself, but there was someone who could help. Someone with money, power, and a vocal hatred for ghostly invaders.

“Tucker Foley,” Vladimir Masters said, opening his door. His hair was pulled back in his signature ponytail, and he wore a gaudy green Packers bathrobe. “You’re awake early on a Saturday for a teenager. My, where's your other half?”

“No Danny today. Just me,” he said, keeping his tone casual despite the sudden anxiety spike in his gut.

Vlad grinned and stepped aside, sweeping his arm over the now open doorway. “Excellent, why don't you come in?”

Tucker followed the gesture and stepped through the door, trying to ignore the guilt that was clawing at him. Danny always talked about how much he hated Vlad, and how creepy the guy was. And while Tucker agreed that Vlad was more than a little slimy, Vlad was a businessman, and more importantly, a billionaire. Being slimy kinda came with the territory.

And besides, Vlad had only moved into the town a year ago, after Danny had already turned into Phantom. So, it wasn't Danny who hated Vlad, not really.

“Come, make yourself comfortable. You're a bit too young for me to offer you a drink, but maybe some water, perhaps?”

“I'm fine,” Tucker said. His voice echoed around the empty house.

“Then sit.” Vlad pulled out a seat at the bar. “I just brewed myself a pot of tea. Maybe you'd care for some of that?”

“No thanks,” Tucker said, his voice jilted as he forcefully remembered his manners. Even if it was Phantom who hated Vlad, Tucker wasn't too keen on being behind closed doors with the man any longer than necessary either. 

Vlad paid him no mind, of course, and poured his tea into a fancy china cup. He brought the cup up to his nose, sniffed, and then smiled, setting it down on a small plate on the counter and settling into a seat for himself. “So,” he started, clasping his hands together. “What do I owe the pleasure of seeing you on this fine day?”

Tucker blew a breath out, trying to expel the mounting anxiety in his system. “Okay, I realize what I'm about to say sounds absolutely insane. I get that, but I just need you to let me explain.”

That slimy smirk was back on Vlad's lips. “Oh? Do tell.”

“Okay.” Tucker wrung his hands in his lap. “Okay, just—just hear me out. Trust me, nobody wants to say this less than me.”

“But of course, my dear boy.”

Tucker exhaled one last time and then began. “So, I know who Phantom is. You know, the ghost? I—he's disguising himself as a teenager, and I know who it is.”

“Oh, really? My, that doesn't sound good.”

“It's not.” Tucker closed his eyes, covering his forehead with his hand. “It's the worst, really. Because the person that Phantom is pretending to be—and I know, I know, just let me explain—but it's Danny. Danny Fenton.”

Tucker peeked through his hand to see the smile on Vlad's lips widen. 

“Daniel Fenton, my godson, you mean?” Vlad said. “That's quite the accusation.”

“I know it is. Trust me,” Tucker said. “But—okay, so basically, I think what happened was that Danny was in some sort of lab accident, and it killed him. He talks about it sometimes, but he doesn't give any details. But I'm pretty sure that was it. Because only like a month after that happened, all the ghosts started appearing. And Phantom too. I—uh, here. Hang on, let me show you...” Tucker leaned over and pulled his tablet from his backpack. He opened it and went to his files, opening a pdf of his comparison photos. He handed the tablet to Vlad, saying, “This is them side by side in different positions. You can really see it there, when the photos are lined up like this. They look exactly the same. But that's not all! Obviously.”

“Obviously,” Vlad said, swiping through the pdf.

“Look, I don't really know how to explain it, but Danny's just...he's different now. He disappears before ghosts attack, he comes back all beat and sometimes bloody. He's cold, way colder than normal, and sometimes I see him—when someone's annoying him or if he's pissed—where it's almost like...like he can't even contain his human form anymore. His eyes get green, and sometimes ectoplasm sparks in his palms. It's not human.”

“And you see this as...a problem?” Vlad looked up from the tablet. “If Daniel was Phantom?”

“Why wouldn't it be? Don't you have this whole initiative to get rid of ghosts?” Tucker argued.

If anything, that seemed to amuse Vlad more. He set the tablet down and said, “But of course, I wasn't insinuating anything. I merely just acknowledge that Daniel is your best friend and that most of you youths enjoy Phantom's presence in this city.”

“Only the blind ones do. I know better. Phantom is bringing the ghosts into this town. Mr. Masters, you know how all ghosts have Obsessions?”

“Yes, I am aware.”

“Well, Phantom’s Obsession is being a hero, right? What's more heroic than setting up a bunch of ghost fights to 'save' people from?”

Vlad's smile was almost impossibly wide now. “Yes, I understand.”

Something was amusing to that billionaire creep, but Tucker hardly had time to figure out what before Vlad was up out of his seat, pacing around his kitchen.

“You see, I already know all this. You understand, I'm the one funding this city's anti-ghost initiative. And I also know that young Daniel is Phantom.”

Tucker's jaw dropped. “You do?”

“But of course, I do!” Vlad pulled his phone from his pocket and tapped on it for a minute before passing it off to Tucker. In an encrypted app that Tucker didn't recognize was a video. 

“Well, go on,” Vlad said.

Tucker pressed play on the video to see a dimly lit alley with Phantom standing at the end of it. He glanced around, and then white rings appeared, passing over his body. A white T-shirt and jeans replaced a black suit, and black hair replaced white hair.

The rings disappeared, and the person that remained was none other than Danny Fenton.

Tucker blinked, and his head snapped out of the memory. His eyes refocused, and Danny Fenton sat in front of him, still talking to Sam, his posture still far too easygoing for someone who wasn't even human.

His human form was impressively detailed. His unruly black hair, dash of freckles on his cheeks, blue eyes, and pointed nose—all signature traits of Danny. He had gotten it almost perfect.

Almost. 

It made Tucker's blood boil, and he struggled to push it down, keep it in check. Ghosts could feel intense emotions.

The calm mask slipped over him once more, and Tucker was empty. Just empty.

Just how, when he stared into Danny's eyes, he could see that same emptiness too. There was no humanity left. No, that'd died almost two years ago now. All that remained was a ghost. 

He wanted his friend back. But that was impossible. The only thing that he could do now was wipe all ghosts out so no one ever suffered the way Tucker was right now.

He was a hacker, so once he got the tech, programming it was a piece of cake. Okay, so maybe it was a little bit harder than that, but he was nothing if not determined.

And he was nothing if not a damn good programmer.

And now he had the power to fix this, end the ghostly invasion in Amity, end Phantom's terrorizing reign, and set his former friend free.

“What do you think, Tuck?” Danny turned to face Tucker.

“Huh?” Tucker grunted, his elbow nearly slipping from his desk. “Sorry, what are we talking about?”

Sam rolled her eyes. “Jeez, you really have been spacey today. Sleep well last night?”

No, he hadn't, actually. Because Phantom had set up another attack at 2 a.m. and so Tucker had to intervene.

Danny was wearing long sleeves today. Good. It meant that Tucker's shot really had nailed his bicep.

“No, sorry,” Tucker chuckled. “Was rushing to get Lancer's essay done. I can't work on it this weekend; my cousins are coming to town.”

“Again?” Sam asked.

No, they weren't. Tucker hadn't seen his cousins since Christmas. 

“Yeah, my aunt and my mom are in this whole midlife crisis thing right now. Want to make sure we all bond properly or something.” Tucker waved his hand haphazardly. “You know how moms are.”

That was the perfect trigger for Sam, who huffed expectantly. “Oh yeah, don't even get me started. My mom is still trying to make me bond with Kate. Kate's two years older than me and was the head of her cheer team. Like, hello? You can only imagine what her playlists are like.”

“You should blast some death metal next time,” Danny said.

“Trust me, I have. It's the only way to get her to shut up.”

“Must not be death enough.” Danny flashed his teeth in a mischievous smile. “I’m sure I can help put together a playlist if you want.”

That cocky motherfucker…

Did he enjoy gloating over everyone? Did he really laugh at them when he was alone, all the stupid, idiotic, airhead humans who he thought didn’t notice anything?

Squashing his emotions was suddenly too difficult, and just before the internal tea kettle was able to whistle, Tucker was saved by the bell.

Oh, thank god.

Tucker was out of his seat before anyone else, scooping his notebook from his desk, throwing his bag over his shoulder, and racing out the door before Sam or Danny could catch up.

Still, when against his better conscience he glanced over to his friends, he didn’t miss the subtle look Danny gave him or the green glint in the corner of his eye…

Keep your friends close, and your enemies closer.

If only it was easy.

****

[read more of my work]

[ravensvirginity]

I'm ashamed for saying this, but... I really do love Raven x Wally. Yes, I know the NTT comics showed the both of them as very problematic in terms of their relationship with each other, but I'm a sucker for star-crossed lovers, and there were moments where they genuinely felt like that. If I could back in time, I'd kick Marv Wolfman's ass AND write Raven x Wally the way I want it to be, aka not problematic. They're both a cute couple, okay?? 😭

They're just not my thing personally. There are a few moments that kind of read as star-crossed lovers, but I don't believe that that was ever the intention with them. I think that if you changed them to be not 'problematic' and to be genuinely in love, you'd have a whole new story on your hands (and that's what fanfic is for, at the end of the day, but for canon I don't think it really works).

I honestly don't hate wallyrae as it's presented in the story. I think Raven being morally dubious and making mistakes in her desperation to fight Trigon is an interesting story element. I think the only way the story presented can work is for it to end the way it did in canon, with them never actually being together and recognizing it's best they drift apart.

All that being said, I think fanfic is a safe zone to explore those what ifs. I would be interested in checking out a ntt fanfic that wrote Raven and Wally more as lovers than as what they are in canon, it could be fun to imagine an alternate take on their story like that.

[softguarnere]

hi dove! i can't believe i've never requested anything on your blog! could you possibly write a enemies to lovers - lewis nixon x reader? maybe where feelings are discovered after one of them gets hurt/captured/something like that! you know i'm a sucker for angst with tons of fluff! thanks for being awesome!

mads <3

Coming Clean

Lewis Nixon x reader

A/N: omg hi Mads! Thank you so much for the request 🤗 I love your work (especially the way you write Nix) so I really hope you enjoy this! I edited and wrote the last half of this fic while sick, so if this is totally incoherent, that's why - and I'll just have to do my best to fix it when I'm better😆 (As always this is written for the fictional depictions from the show - no disrespect to the real life veterans!) 💕🕊️ Warnings: language, mentions of war

“I am not being overdramatic,” Nixon insists in what can only fairly be described as a rather theatrical tone. 

Dick only glances up from across the table, an eyebrow quirked as he studies his friend. He nods slightly. Thank you for proving my point, the gesture seems to say.

“Nix,” he says, his tone serious, even though he opts for his friend’s nickname instead of a more reprimanding Lewis. “I don’t think comparing anyone to Sobel is fair.”

Nixon drops his fork and holds his hands up in surrender. “Whoa, okay. All I said was that if she wanted to, (Y/N) could give him a run for his money. That’s all.”

“They’re nothing alike,” Dick deadpans.

Nothing alike? A bit nondramatic, in Nixon’s opinion. An understatement for sure. He starts to protest, but Dick cuts him off.

“I think the two of you just got off on the wrong foot.”

Scoffing, Nixon leans back in his chair. “Well, I wouldn’t call overhearing someone explicitly talking about how they think you’re unqualified for your job getting off on the wrong foot. But close enough, I guess.”

“That’s not what I said.”

The voice is enough to startle both Nixon and Winters – although the ginger presses his lips together in a way that suggests he’s only just managing to repress a smile as he takes in your arrival on the scene. Nixon, on the other hand, has to forcibly close his mouth to stop from gaping at your sudden presence.

“What I said,” you continue. “was that I wasn’t sure how well a Yale man would hold his ground amongst the other officers.”

A frown tugs at the corners of Nixon’s mouth. For once, he’s grateful that part of his upbringing included lessons in how to conceal one’s true emotions lest someone gain the upper hand by using them against him. He presses his lips into a thin line and steels himself.

“Remind me where you studied again, Lieutenant?”

Your face pales. Bingo! You may have had him there for a second, but he’s struck a nerve.

“It was just a joke,” you say, your voice quiet.

Nixon only shrugs before turning back to Dick. There are footsteps as you walk away, but he doesn’t turn to see you go. Instead, he tries to concentrate on his tray of food. Tries being the operative word, since Dick seems intent on staring at him with that look of utter disappointment on his face that could make a saint feel guilty.

“What?” He stabs some broccoli with his fork, not looking up.

Dick sighs. “It was a joke, Nix.”

The potatoes on the corner of his tray are his next victim. Unseasoned and questionably cooked as they are, Nixon still puts all his focus into getting them firmly on his fork.

“Why does it bother you so much?”

Now he looks up. “Huh?”

“The joke,” Dick clarifies. “Why did it bother you so much?”

It’s not so much that the jab at his alma mater bothers him. It’s just . . . Huh. Why does it bother him? The way it’s said, perhaps, or the people it was said in front of. After all, it was one of the first things that you said upon Nixon’s arrival after his promotion. Not a good look for a newcomer in such a prestigious position. If he wanted people to poke fun at him despite his achievements, he could have just stayed home.

Sure, that’s probably it, he tells himself. You’ve just hit a nerve. No need to psychoanalyze this whole thing.

To Dick’s question, he only shrugs.

His friend, thankfully, does not press the issue.

. . .

Lewis Nixon, you’re beginning to realize, does not forgive and forget.

Well, that’s too bad, because all the other officers seem to think that he’s funny and charming. And they’re right. But clearly those qualities are not on display whenever you’re around. And you’re not about to ingratiate yourself to him by groveling for forgiveness over some stupid offhanded joke.

Too bad. Because you’re a big enough person to admit that despite his flaws, Lewis Nixon has his good qualities – not to mention that he’s handsome.

“Why are you staring at me?”

The sudden question draws you out of your thoughts. You blink, back in the present moment.

“Pardon?”

“You’re staring at me,” Nixon says. He doesn’t look up from the stack of mail that he’s censoring, intent on his work.

You avert your gaze, trying to ignore the heat you feel rushing to your cheeks. The words on the letter in front of you turn to nonsense the more you try to focus on them. If you work hard enough, you won’t be tempted to let your thoughts wander to the man sitting across the table from you.

“Here.” A letter lands on top of the one you’re reading as Nixon, once again, interrupts your thoughts. Startled, you look up to find him looking at you rather expectantly.

The letter he’s tossed to you looks familiar. It takes you a moment to realize that it’s written in your handwriting – a letter that you wrote to your family back in the states. When you glance up at him, he turns back to his own work.

“You spelled accommodate wrong. Thought you might want to fix it before sending it off to your family.”

Oh of course he would point out your mistake like that! Anyone else would have let it go. Your family will be so thrilled by the letter that they wouldn’t even give the misspelling a second thought.

The sigh that you push through your nose comes out louder than you expect it to. Nixon, however, doesn’t look up. Swallowing your pride, you aim for a tone that’s halfway pleasant.

“Thank you, Nixon.”

Is it your imagination, or does the corner of his mouth twitch slightly? A smirk, perhaps.

“You’re welcome, (Y/L/N).”

. . .

Though the world no longer trembles with the barrage of artillery fire, you keep your hands pressed firmly over your ears, staying low in the foxhole. Is it the cold causing you to shake, or the adrenaline that still courses through your veins?

You had been out making rounds when the shelling began, just trying to make sure that the rest of Easy Company was okay. The shellings are always unexpected, but this one caught you out in the open, exposed. You had had to dive into the nearest foxhole, hoping for the best as you hid from the explosions just outside.

Someone had grunted when you fell into the foxhole, your elbow connecting with their stomach. There had been no chance to apologize over the loud, cracking booms that filled the air.

After a shelling, there always seems to be a moment – a split second, really – of silence before it all goes to hell again. Then the calls for a medic will break out and everyone will jump into action, throwing around orders amid the screams and groans of the injured.

Now, as you wait for the few seconds of silence, you feel the person beneath you shift.

“Sorry,” you mutter, your arms shaking as you attempt to push yourself off of them.

“Christ,” a familiar voice grumbles. “My fucking ribs.”

Nixon’s voice is all the motivation that you need to push yourself the rest of the way off of him. Still full of adrenaline, you push yourself back on your heels, staying low in the foxhole, but ready to leave at a moment’s notice.

The Princeton man rubs his ribs. “You came out of nowhere. That really – “ He pauses, his expression shifting into one that you’ve never seen on him before as his brows furrow. Gently, he leans towards you. “Hey, (Y/N). Are you okay?”

“I-I’m fine.”

“You look – “

Ka-BOOM!

The air splits in two as the second round starts. The shell must hit somewhere very near your foxhole, because the reverberations its impact sends through the ground cause you to topple forward, straight into Nixon.

Before you can even think about pushing yourself away from him again, something strange happens: you feel his arms wrap around you, drawing you in, close and tight, as the barrage continues. You bury your face in his shoulder.

When the second round ends, you both remain still, breathing heavily as you wait for whatever comes next. Only when it’s clear that the Germans are no longer firing do you pull away from each other. Neither of you looks the other in the eye.

“Sorry about your ribs.”

“Huh? Oh. They’re fine.”

Neither of you leaves the foxhole until absolutely necessary. And the next time that the Germans begin firing, when you somehow find yourself back in the same foxhole, neither of you seem to question how easily you wrap your arms around each other, bracing for the impacts and explosions.

The fog of war is a hell of a thing.

. . .

“Medic! We need a medic!”

The call is so unexpected that Nixon actually stops midsentence and turns his attention towards the panicked voice. Several others follow suit. After all, in the middle of Berchtesgaden, who would need a medic? It’s not like they’re in combat. And there’s nothing and no one around that should be putting anyone in danger.

Dick jumps into action immediately. Of course he does; he cares so deeply for his men – anyone can see that. It’s especially evident in this moment as he steps forward to intercept the panicked looking Talbert.

“What’s going on?” he asks.

“(Y/L/N) needs a medic.”

Despite his wishes, Nixon feels his heart skip a beat at the mention of your name. It’s because of the startling and unusual news that Tab is delivering, he tells himself.

“For what?” he asks at the same time that Dick takes charge of the situation, charging down the street they’ve been standing on, yelling out that he needs to find Doc Roe.

As soldiers snap to attention trying to find the trusted medic, Nixon moves closer to Talbert.

“What happened to (Y/L/N)?”

Talbert takes a step back, his eyes wide, like he’s being confronted by a madman. Sure, Nixon’s tone was a little demanding – a little worried – but there’s really no need for the other man to look so shocked.

“A couple of us were out exploring the woods,” Tab explains. “She caught her ankle on a root and tripped. Might be just a sprain, but it looks pretty nasty.”

“Where is she now?”

“We got her back to the house that she was quartering in – Hey! Nix, where are you going?”

Talbert’s voice fades behind him as Nixon rushes down the street. Somewhere in the back of his mind, he’s vaguely aware of people stopping to stare at him as he passes, his pace a barely restrained run.

Several shocked faces look up at him when he bursts into the house. He stops in the doorway of the living room, staring into where you are.

You sit on the couch, one leg propped up beside you. Other than the swelling in your ankle, you look okay – if not a little surprised, that is, to see Nixon gaping at you like this. For what it’s worth, the few Easy men who are scattered throughout the living room look just as stunned.  

“(Y/N),” Nixon breathes. Coming back to himself, he clears his throat, willing his heart rate to slow down to normal levels.

“Um . . . I think we should – we should maybe clear out, yeah guys? Give (Y/N) some room to breathe,” Babe suggests.

Casting glances between you and Nixon, the other men squeeze past him in the doorway as they make their way out of the house. Behind him, the door closes, but Nixon doesn’t move. Somewhere within the house, through all the silence between the two of you, a clock chimes to signal the top of the hour.

“Can I help you?” You finally ask.

“We’re at the end of the war.” Nixon’s voice, once again, is louder than he intended it to be. He clears his throat again before pushing on. “We’re at the end of the war, and you somehow got hurt.”

“I tripped in the woods. So what?”

“So what? I was worried about you!” The words are out of his mouth before they have his permission to be spoken. They’ve escaped before he truly grasps the gravity of what he’s just said.

You quirk an eyebrow – a rather sarcastic expression that he’s come to know on you, but your voice is quiet when you ask, “You were worried about me?”

He was worried about you, he realizes suddenly. And he’s been worried about you for some time now, though he can’t place when his feelings towards you softened, when he started to care.

“Yeah,” he admits. “I want you to get home safely.”

“Why is that?”

His head spins. Maybe you should have been put in intelligence, the way that you’re pressuring him for answers while keeping a collected tone. It’s exasperating, honestly, how you’ve somehow gained the upper hand.

But part of him . . . likes the feeling it gives him when the two of you spar like this.

Something tugs at the corners of your mouth. It might be a smile you’re trying to suppress, or one of the smirks that he’s come to know so well.

“Nixon, I think you’re very bad at expressing your emotions.”

He blinks. “Excuse me?”

“You heard me.” With your propped leg taking up the space beside you on the couch, you instead gesture to the chair that sits nearby. Without knowing why, Nixon takes a seat. It’s a bit like waiting outside the principal’s office, the anticipation of it all. “But,” you continue. “it’s kind of cute to see you so flustered.”   

You’re messing with him, surely. Yet he can’t find any sort of witty comeback.

After a moment of staring at each other, you nod with the assurance of someone who has finally made up their mind and is resigned to their fate. “I think it’s time I finally came clean.”

“About?”

“I think you know. But just to watch you squirm, I’m going to start at the beginning.”

He’s heard you tell stories before. The two of you could be here for a long time.

But, he thinks as you start your narrative, he’s starting to realize that he wouldn’t want it any other way.

[jolalibrary]

spotify wrapped.

so i kinda made a few friends do a Spotify wrapped of THEIR fics as a way to celebrate themselves and what they've written/begin plotting this year. and i may have hidden for a while from doing it, but... here it is [yes, i made mine square for the aesthetic, sue me]

HERE IS MY FIC WRAPPED OF 2023

LATE NIGHT TEXTS

i think originally i had this as second, but the more i think on it, if it wasn't for this fic, i wouldn't have met so many of you. it wouldn't have gotten me through a tough depressive period and it wouldn't have healed the fear of writing romance. it is also the one fic i personally read to cheer me up, and coming up with new ideas for them is my FAVOURITE thing ever. i never expected a single soul to love them, but fuck, i'm so glad you all do.

I LIKE THE WAY YOU

i am a sucker for best friends to lovers, so naturally writing this has been a blast. it's special to me because my own husband was my best friend, and much of the themes are the same (minus the fwb part) and the best part of writing it, has been revisiting some of those feelings. i also really pushed myself with the spice. and that writing two people in love, who won't admit it, is actually so much harder than i thought.

BE GOOD, BE QUIET

a self-indulgent fic with joel miller? yes pls. no one will ever be able to understand how terrified i am writing JM. but this one flowed from me. everything from the storm to the way they look at one another made me grin. it was so much fun to write, and i'm so proud of myself for not letting fear stop me from writing it. also, this is hot as fuck - i cannot believe i wrote this.

AREPAS

this pair stole my heart when i first wrote them. they also gave me the confidence to birth late night texts. the softness in this, but also the cheek/wit, just had me grinning when i edited. I'll forever love this for what it did for me as a writer.

ANYTIME / COMING UNDER THE CHRISTMAS TREE

okay, okay. i cannot easily pick a fifth, so i chose two. but they're both so brilliant, and self-indulgent and born from this place of 'i want to write this, so fuck it' and yet, somehow, you all love it? and is that not a message for jo in 2024 to write more of the things she loves? also, cmon, one is pure fluff and one is pure spice ;).

[the specialist mention to nowhere to run. you were a beauty, you're brilliant and my brain created you with the hope of healing. and in some ways you did heal me, but you also made me sad, and anxious, but i'm glad you were written, and i do love you, even if i don't act like it]

tagging: if you see this, i IMPLORE you to celebrate yourself. here's a link to the canvas template to do it -> Canva Template Link

[smytherines]

001| Curtwen and 002|Owen Carvour for the ask game

Oooohhh thank you!

001- curtwen

When I started shipping it: I watched Spies for the first time in late October or early November 2023, and I liked it but I didn't think about it again until January 2024 when I decided to rewatch it. The second time I watched Spies they broke my brain, and I've been here ever since

My thoughts: *45 continuous minutes of stressed out laughter* oh boy. Um. So many thoughts really, but most of them center around curtwen making me incredibly sad

What makes me happy about them: I genuinely believe they loved each other. That they bantered and bickered like an old married couple, but that they really tried the best they could to be together, even if most of the time they had to be apart. I believe Curt when he talks about how Owen was his best friend, and I think Owen felt the same way right up until the fall

What makes me sad about them: everything else

Things done in fanfic that annoy me: making pre-fall Owen into a heartless monster who is borderline (or just outright) abusive to a helpless, dopey babygirlified version of Curt. Those versions of the characters are unrecognizable to me

Things I look for in fanfic: for their relationship, whether working or romantic, to feel like an actual partnership with two people who genuinely care about each other. I'm also just a sucker for great banter

Who I'd be comfortable with them ending up with, if not each other: nobody, it's very much a "they were made for each other, do not subject anyone else to these men" situation for me

My happily ever after for them: actually I wrote a whole fic about this! But it would just be them getting out of the spy game and running off somewhere, just having a little house together and finally getting to have a real relationship

Who is the big spoon/little spoon: I think they switch it up. Maybe with Owen being the big spoon a little more often? I do think the fandom overlooks Curt's big spoon potential though

What is their favorite non-sexual activity: is it cheating to say spying? I think Curt would despise stakeouts at first because he can't keep still, but the more they work together (and especially once they get together) I think they would both start to kind of enjoy stakeouts because they get to talk and spend time together and not necessarily have all the pressure and stress of the other parts of their job

002- Owen Carvour

How I feel about this character: oh boy there aren't enough words. I could focus on so many things here, but they all come back to disability eventually. While Owen Carvour isn't established in canon to be disabled after the fall, in the real world you do not get up and walk away after a fall like that, especially not after a building explodes on you. In the real world, the most likely result would be broken bones, traumatic brain injury, spinal cord injury, burns from the explosion, etc. There aren't a ton of canonically disabled characters out there, so disability tends to be something that has to be read subtextually like this, often in the origin stories of antagonists or villains. The whole become disabled become evil trope.

I find myself with a lot of empathy for characters who go through something horrifying, something that would be disabling in the real world, and their grief and trauma manifest in horrifying ways. People who are not perfect victims, who spiral and lash out and lose themselves and ruminate, who turn their pain into ammunition. Grief that manifests as sadness and crying and self-hatred tends to be a lot more accessible and relatable than grief that manifests as boiling white hot rage. But as a disabled person who thinks of Owen as a disabled character, I have a lot of empathy for the rage. Maybe I shouldn't, but I do.

All the people I ship romantically with this character: just Agent Curt Mega

Non-romantic OTP: I love the idea of Barb and Owen being friends. I think they definitely had some interests in common and would've been such an interesting dynamic

Unpopular opinion of this character: I guess one of my most unpopular opinions is that I think it does a big disservice to the character and the story to reduce Owen down to a petty ex who was always sort of like that, who wants nothing else beyond petty personal revenge on the man who wronged him. To paint it as a toxic reaction to a bad breakup instead of a massive trauma that left him seriously injured and isolated and heartbroken, that stole his entire life from him.

I absolutely believe getting revenge on Curt was a primary motivation for Owen, but I don't think he planned to torture or kill Curt until Curt interrupted his arms deal. I think Owen lost his identity, his life, his job, his relationship, everything that mattered to him in the fall, and if Curt hadn't come back and chased him down, Owen would've been satisfied operating from the shadows and taking (from his perspective, at least) the only thing Curt actually loves- spying. But I don't think that's his only motivation. By the time we meet DMA, Owen has already been working with the Baron for some time, he definitely would've started this project before Curt ever came back, so I don't buy the idea that he started all this to lure Curt in. I think its giving Owen a bit too much credit to suggest he rigged the entire scenario. I don't think Curt personally being there was part of the plan, I think it derailed the plan.

A spy destroyed his life, him being a spy destroyed his life, his agency and his partner abandoned him to die, having a secret with another man ruined him. I get why he wants a world without agencies, without spies, without secrets. He is going to single handedly dismantle everything Curt ever believed in because those are the things Owen once believed in, the things that put him in that facility and led to him losing everything

It is about Curt, but its about a lot more than Curt too. I think Owen would be very aware of what the British government would do to him if they knew he was gay, I think he would be very aware that global superpowers like the US, UK, & USSR are working on surveillance technology, that someday soon somebody will hold all the world's secrets. I think he feels like he stands a better chance with Chimera than he does with the government that would imprison him or force him into "chemical castration" if they knew what he was. A government that left him for dead. His ideological reasons for joining Chimera as just as interesting to me as his personal reasons

One thing I wish had happened in canon: the villain monologue and the staircase scene have Owen laying out all his ideological reasons for doing what he's doing, beyond insulting Curt he doesn't get personal about anything, even when Curt tries to bring up personal things between them. I get why there wasn't, but I do sort of wish there had been a line or two that really expanded on what "the horror of staying alive" meant to Owen, some tiny glance at what his post-fall world was really like. Something that slips out and Curt tries to pull at that thread and Owen just shuts it down, or the thought of it makes him even angrier. Things end the same way, and I do think Joey Richter does an incredible, incredible job of making you feel something for Owen in the staircase scene, but I do wish we had a little bit more of a mask-dropping moment

My OTP: curtwen

My crossover ship: I would not inflict these men on anyone else

A headcanon fact: uhm. Shit. I've already typed so much so let's keep this simple- I headcanon him as autistic

[hawkinsmafia]

day 03 : best friends

featuring Gareth Emerson x oc Fox Buckley, with Jeff & Eugene

summary: Gareth and his boyfriend have been outed to Jeff and Eugene

rating: general

wc: 541

cw: one use of the f-slur (directed at self)

an: this is a ‘missing scene’ immediately following the scene where Jason and the jocks showed up at band rehearsal, but with the addition of an oc. Fox is a trans boy with congenital hearing loss, who wears hearing aids behind each ear, and has been Gareth’s best friend since kindergarten. this was written for @corrodedcoffinfest!

After Jason and his cronies left, dragging the traitorous Lucas with them, they’d decided that was pretty much it for band rehearsal. Gareth’s hand was throbbing, but he was pretty sure nothing was broken; he went inside to get an ice pack for it, and by the time he’d come back out, the others had righted his drum kit and pushed everything back against the wall so his dad would be able to pull into the garage when he got home from work.

“Thanks, guys,” he muttered, dropping onto the musty old sofa with a huff. He was still nauseated from the sucker punch Jason had given him, and ashamed of himself for ratting out Dustin and Eddie like he had. But more than anything… he was scared. That was not at all how he’d imagined coming out to his friends.

Fox plopped down on the cushion beside him, and Gareth instinctively leaned toward him, seeking support. It was so fucking quiet in his garage that he could hear Jeff and Eugene looking first at each other, and then at the two on the couch.

“Sooo…,” Jeff started, his voice stilted and awkward. “You and Fox, huh?”

“Me and Fox,” Gareth confirmed quietly. He was afraid to look at them, afraid of what he’d see in their expressions.

It was Eugene’s turn to speak. “Are you two… like…”

“Dating,” Fox supplied.

The metaphorical talking stick went back to Jeff. “So you’re…”

“Queers,” Gareth said, and Fox nodded.

“How long?” Jeff asked, though, strictly speaking, it wasn’t his turn.

“I figured it out a couple years ago,” Gareth answered. There was a noise that was almost a laugh; Gareth’s eyes darted up for a moment, but he wasn’t sure whether that was Jeff or Eugene.

“No, I mean, how long… you two…”

“How long have you guys been dating, is what he’s trying to say,” Eugene cut in as Jeff stumbled over his words.

Gareth looked at Fox; Fox was looking back uncertainly. “Uh… couple months?” Gareth answered slowly. “Like… three or four…”

“Or six,” Fox added.

There was a flurry of movement and Gareth looked up, braced to block a strike, but it was only Eugene punching Jeff in the arm. And he was grinning.

“I told you, man!” he crowed, and Jeff looked annoyed—at Eugene, not Gareth and Fox. “I fucking told you! You owe me ten bucks!”

Gareth stared at them, his mouth falling open in confusion. He looked to Fox, but his boyfriend looked just as baffled as he was.

Bringing his hands up, Fox signed to Gareth, “What is he talking about?”

“Don’t know,” Gareth signed back silently.

“You guys were not subtle at all,” Eugene explained. “I told Jeff you were having a secret relationship, but he didn’t believe me.” Jeff grumbled darkly as he rummaged through his wallet, pulling out two wrinkled fivers and passing them to Eugene, who took them gleefully.

“You… knew?” Fox asked tentatively.

“Am I out of the band?” Gareth followed.

“Or Hellfire?”

Eugene and Jeff looked at each other, brows furrowed in twin confusion. “What?”

“Why?”

“Because we’re… fags?”

Another almost-laugh, and this time Gareth saw it come from Eugene while Jeff grinned.

“Yeah, and you’re also our friends, moron.”

(I wrote another little fic featuring Fox and Gareth at band rehearsal here if you’re interested. Also if you talk to me about OCs, I will love you until my last dying breath.)