#be nice to me ive never actually written anything more than a fic prompt

[eggcats]

I got distracted thinking about Housewife Vox, and if I had Vox's powers, I'd have blown out the city's power grid. So this is a completely self-indulgent (with some nsfw-ish near the end) fic offshoot of that post.

The other post you can choose to be one-sided, but this RadioStatic is reciprocated here. You were warned.

There's like, quite literally over 3k words here, and none of the (mild) nsfw-ish stuff doesn't even start until we hit 2k. Oops.

--

Alastor isn't completely unaware he's essentially kidnapped someone to live with him, in a way that could be misconstrued as a partner. He's been in hell for about 20 years, and before that, he lived in areas no one would exactly call....normal to typical white picket fence Americana. He's not completely ignorant of how it looks.

However, he's never been really good at noticing when other people have Those Kinds of feelings towards himself. (He doesn't feel those things, and so he doesn't even notice any supposed signals being sent). It's not even always intentional, it just never occurs to him that someone could (or would) be interested in him in such a way.

And so. He doesn't realize how Vox feels towards him. Not until he invites him to Cannibal Town to meet his beloved Rosie, and Vox can barely bring himself to be his typical charming self.

The tea is awkward, and Alastor is a little upset that, apparently, Vox is only okay with his cannibalism when it's not in his face - but isn't willing to accept it when he can't ignore it. Alastor is aware that his tastes are a little alarming to most of hell's population, but he thought Vox accepted it in him. (Perhaps he only made him dinner when it was venison because he could ignore the rest of it? Alastor assumed he usually prepared his sinner meat simply because he was the one bringing it in, but perhaps he was mistaken.)

It's not until the next time he visits his dear friend and he laments the issue when he discovers the truth. (He adores his Rosie, but the laughter she did in his face for his confusion he could have lived without. If he was any less of a gentleman, he would have mocked her snorting, but alas, his mother raised him better than that).

So now Alastor has to consider the fact that Vox himself is also aware of the strange dynamic they are living under and is apparently very interested in keeping it. (Even to the point of trying to scare off potential competition, an idea that is so laughable that he can't help but chuckle a bit.)

If that's the case, then he will simply continue on as normal. If he mentions him and Rosie simply being extremely close but neither having any romantic interest in the other before the next time he invites Vox to Cannibal Town, there's nothing more to it. (Vox's expression after doesn't do anything to him, nor is he pleasantly surprised how non-judgemental his picture box is when he isn't attempting to stake a non-contested claim. He also pointedly ignores any looks Rosie might be throwing him behind Vox's back.)

Alastor, therefore, believes himself to have resolved this "issue."

--

Vox, however, doesn't realize how blatant his affections are and is somehow convinced he's keeping them hidden. Vox, while enjoying PRETENDING to be a housewife to an attractive (cannibalistic, violent...oh, those teeth...) man, is terrified of accidentally crossing a line he's not aware of. He knows Alastor is okay with how they're currently operating, because Alastor is the one who created it. But, he hasn't shown any interest in anything MORE, and so Vox feels like he must content himself with just that - fantasies.

(If he sometimes imagines being swept off his feet when Alastor gets home and ravished on "their" marriage bed, well, that's between him and the walls).

Or it would be, if Alastor wasn't Alastor.

--

See. Alastor has a great deal of affection for Vox, but he's aware that they are in hell and that no one is here by accident. He doesn't LIKE the idea that Vox may simply be using his own interest for an advantage over him when he's vulnerable, but Alastor can't deny the very distinct possibility.

Even excepting that issue, Vox himself did not land in hell with the same right-out-the-gate power, and as it stands, any of Alastor's enemies would surely target Vox as a weakness of his. While certainly his picture box isn't completely as helpless as he likes to pretend, the idea of anyone even attempting to stake any kind of claim on him makes Alastor want to bite something.

So whenever he leaves, he uses his shadows to observe what Vox does on his own in Alastor's living space. He doesn't tell Vox this for a magnitude of reasons - wanting to see how he operates when he thinks he's alone, as well as Alastor having the ability to self-reflect enough to know his possessive ownership of things he considers HIS isn't something most others are okay with when that comes to other people.

(Alastor will find out later that Vox is absolutely more than okay with Alastor considering him his and very much LIKES his possessive attitude).

And for the most part, Vox doesn't do anything of note. Alastor has his shadows keep watch on him, but to allow Vox his privacy, he doesn't actually have them report directly or watch through them - unless his shadows believe something is relevant for him to see. So for a few weeks, his shadows presence around Vox when he is away is more of a security measure than anything else.

But eventually, they pick up on something strange. It's not a lot at a time, but it seems like Vox has taken it upon himself to steal small amounts of money from him. Alastor tries to negate this by simply inviting Vox shopping along with him and allowing him to choose whatever he wants to purchase. Alastor has even suggested Vox going shopping with his money on his own (while being protected from the shadows, of course) but even that was rejected.

Alastor can't understand any of it. He would understand if Vox was looking for some kind of escape from living with him, but the one (and only) time Alastor suggested Vox having his own place to live, Vox looked like he had shot his beloved pet in front of him. (Alastor is ignoring how pleased he is by this response. He didn't WANT his Vox to leave, but he refuses to be a similar man to his father and force him to. He enjoys treating Vox as if he belongs to him, but he wants Vox to want the leash - and not force it upon him).

Perhaps he simply enjoys theft. There are worse sins in hell, and it's not like Alastor is HIDING his money from him. The money would have undoubtedly been spent on his picture box regardless, so he doesn't mind as long as it brings him pleasure. To each their own.

Except one day after Alastor leaves, so does Vox. Which isn't completely unheard of, but him taking the stolen cash IS enough of a deviation from normal that his shadows alert him about it.

So Alastor follows him, determined to understand how the mind of his picture box works (so he can take care of him better so he'll never leave). And Vox goes clothes shopping, which wouldn't be anything out of the ordinary, except he (very poorly, his dear Vox is many things, but unnoticeable is not one of them) sneaks into the women's section and selects one, very simple, 1950s style dress.

Alastor wonders if he finally figured out the issue. For some reason, his Vox wants to wear women's clothing but isn't comfortable letting HIM know that. His dislike of both purchasing such items with Alastor (as well as simply shopping when Alastor would be aware he is, and expect to see what was purchased) makes sense to him.

This is easily solved. The idea that Alastor would CARE what clothing his picture box wants to wear is laughable - cannibalism is fine, but a dress is too far? Ridiculous.

He knows Vox has not been in hell for very long, so perhaps he hasn't yet realized that such societal taboos are generally accepted, considering the large magnitude of sins the rest of the population has committed. Not to mention that even while he was alive, he knew a great deal of people who regularly cross-dressed (such people were generally rejected by society enough to not care about anything society rejected about HIM).

Alastor is a little personally upset that his picture box believes HIMSELF to be someone who would be upset by something so minor, but perhaps they simply haven't lived together long enough. Regardless, now Alastor has a solution to this theft issue, and then he can purchase as many clothes, in whichever styles, for his dear. And perhaps he'll come to him the next time he wishes for something of his own.

Issue number two, resolved.

--

Sort of.

Vox has been planning this outing for months. He's been meticulous about only taking small amounts of money at a time to avoid detection. Vox is fairly certain Alastor doesn't suspect a thing - or else why would he continue to let his money be unguarded around him or take him on shopping trips and buying whatever he happens to look at for more than a few seconds.

Surely, if Alastor noticed the small amounts of change going missing every so often, he'd kick Vox out. (The time Alastor suggested he find his own place, he's certain his heart stopped for the second time. Luckily, before he could say anything incriminating about how much he WANTED to live with Alastor, he changed his mind about removing Vox from his life).

He knows it's a big risk, but a part of him NEEDS to fully embrace this fantasy of being a housewife. It's all he can think about.

(He might have convinced himself that if he can have one (1) singular self-indulgent fantasy to his heart's content on a day he knows Alastor will be gone, maybe he can put this behind him and stop wishing for more than he can have. It's one thing to pretend to be his housewife, but he knows it will never happen - if he can just get it out of his system, maybe he can Stop This Nonsense).

The entire walk to the clothing store Vox feels like he's being watched. Which he KNOWS is ridiculous - the only time anyone ever pays him any attention is when he's next to Alastor - but the feeling persists. It makes him even more anxious about this purchase than he already is (but he's committed at this point so he can't quit now).

Vox selects a fairly modest dress in a style that he had seen any number of women wearing when he was alive. (He tries to ignore how he has to make sure it buttons up due to his head. He's only insecure about it when he thinks about it, so if he ignores it, he can pretend he looks like anyone else).

He makes it back home to Alastor's place with plenty of time before he's due to be back, and so he wastes no time in changing.

--

When Vox returns home, Alastor fully intended on leaving his shadow and no longer observing him. The only thing he wanted to make sure was that he returned before Vox had the chance to change out of his dress, so Alastor could show what a good mate how little he cared about such frivolous things and perhaps be permitted to help him select such clothing on his next outing.

However, Vox's sudden utterance of his name was certainly unexpected. Alastor almost left his shadows, certain (somehow) he had been caught and spotted, and planned on how to explain his observation in a way that Didn't alarm his partner. 

Except. Nothing about whatever else Vox is doing seems to indicate that he knows Alastor is watching. Vox seems to be having an internal conversation with some imaginary version of himself, as he seems to be responding to words that no one (and certainly not Alastor) is saying. This is a unique development that Alastor did not anticipate, and he is not entirely certain how to continue from here. Certainly, Vox is under the assumption that he is alone now, but everything else he is doing indicates that on some level he is pretending Alastor is also with him. 

Surely the correct thing to do would be to watch to make sure he has not missed anything with Vox’s recent behavior towards himself. 

Nothing catches Alastor quite off guard more than when Vox suddenly tosses himself onto his own bed, with a breathy “Oh, Alastor!” accompanying it. This is certainly something the real Alastor has never done, and he is currently uncertain why the sudden imitation is being performed. 

Until Vox begins to touch himself (while continuing to say his name) and suddenly Alastor realizes what is going on. 

Oh. That’s. Unexpected. 

Is this the reason for the dress purchase? Or are they unrelated? Certainly Vox has never done quite so intimate things while saying his name before, as there is no way his shadows would NOT inform him of such activity. Does the dress arouse him in this way, or-?

Oh. Vox seems to have purchased the appropriate panties for such an outfit as well. Alastor has quite a good view now, and can see just how excited his picture box is with this apparent fantasy. He hasn’t removed any clothes yet, but considering his breathy whines and moans this is not a deterrent in the least (perhaps it enhances the sensation)?

This is quite the new development and Alastor isn’t quite certain what would be the most appropriate course of action. Certainly, despite his words saying otherwise, Vox is very unaware of just what show he is putting on for Alastor. Typically the correct course of action would be to leave him his own privacy.

But for whatever reason Alastor cannot turn his eyes away. 

Alastor knows himself, and his wants and desires and has never felt the desire or need to do such carnal actions, such as those being performed in his name. However, it never occurred to him how pleasing it could be to hear his name being spoken in such needy tones. He knows he quite enjoys it when those he is tearing apart are begging for mercy, but it never occurred to him that he might enjoy the same things in a dramatically different context. 

Alastor watches as Vox raises his dress, and begins to touch himself through his panties. Despite being clothed, he can see everything quite clearly and watches as Vox becomes more and more aroused. It’s not until a breathy “Alastor, please!” is uttered that Vox finally shoves down his panties and takes himself properly in his hand. It’s….quite a captivating sight. 

He watches as Vox becomes more and more excited, his mouth open as he pants, little digital hearts visible in his eyes, and a constant array of gasps and moans of his name being sung into the air above him. It’s more entrancing than anything he has ever seen before, and Alastor can understand wanting someone to desire you if this is how it looks to be worshiped. 

Alastor will purchase him the entire clothing store if this is his response to such clothing. So help him, Vox will never wear pants again if he can help it. 

It doesn’t take long for Vox to bring himself to completion, with a crescendo of Alastor’s name that he will save in his microphone for all of eternity, lest he dare forget the beauty of it. Alastor has not seen anything more divine than Vox with his back arched, crying his name, as he finishes all over himself with just the imagination of Alastor being there. 

Vox will never be allowed to utter another name from his mouth in such a way or Alastor will rip their spine out of their mouth for even daring to attempt it. Vox belongs to him, and he will never make those noises or put on a show for anyone other than Alastor (even if he has to chain his soul to himself to prevent it).

Alastor watches as Vox recovers, panting and coming down from his euphoria, and considers his next move. He is…unsure…how to broach such a topic to him, as this is nowhere near his specialty and such actions typically do not arouse much interest in him. 

He had plans for providing Vox the dresses and other clothing he desired, but bringing up these specific desires has never before been something he has ever wanted. (But oh, how he now wants). It’s a unique experience to want to watch as Vox takes himself apart for him (wanting to take him apart himself) but not simply just wanting it as seemingly others do. 

However, he is broken from his reverie by the noise of crying, and not the delicious version that he was just privy to. No, these are tears born of heartbreak and Alastor is both confused and alarmed by their appearance. Surely this type of self-pleasure is supposed to be pleasurable to the one doing it, or else why would anyone ever do such a thing? 

Why is his beautiful noisy picture box upset and who does he have to gut to prevent it from ever happening again?

He watches as Vox hugs himself on his bed and mumbles something that sounds alarmingly like “Stupid, like he’d ever want something that looks like you….” and Alastor is leaving his shadows before he even realizes he’s doing it. Before Vox notices he’s no longer alone, Alastor has wrapped his arms around him and holds him tight.

(Vox might have yelped in surprise and accidentally shocked Alastor in his charming way where he can’t control his electrical impulses. Alastor responds with his own pleasing radio waves to relax his current until it returns to normal). 

It seems to take a second for Vox to realize that Alastor being present means that he must have in some way witnessed his previous actions (and can certainly see not only him in a dress, but one that is very clearly wrecked in one very specific way). It is always so fascinating to watch how emotions play out on the face of his picture box, and this is no exception. However, before Vox can once again send himself down into the pit of self-loathing, Alastor hums a tune and rubs his own cheek against Vox’s.

--

“I must know. Was this a response to the dress or myself?”

“Wh-what?!”

“Regardless, I will purchase whatever dresses you desire if this is the result. My only requirement is that you allow me to be present next time.”

“H-how…?! What? Uh….I mean….you’re not…mad?”

“Why on earth would I be upset? Unless of course you meant to do this in a way where you would refuse my participation or observations, in which case I will lock you away until you change your mind.” 

“You-you WANT to be involved? But you’ve never-?”

“Oh certainly! While I’ve never desired such things for myself, watching you desire them is certainly an experience I would like to have! You are such a fascinating creature, darling, and I must keep such things all to myself.” 

“Can….can I kiss you?”

--

While doing such actions has never been something Alastor has had much interest in, doing them with Vox and watching his responses to them is quite another story. Left to his own devices, he would never desire such things nor wish to do any of them - but looking into the shy and hopeful eyes of his delightful picture box changes his perspective quite a bit. He has the most entertaining and pleasing responses to quite literally anything Alastor does to him, and it is quite enthralling the effect he has on the other.

He will be holding onto him for as long as he can, digging his claws into Vox so deeply that he will not ever be able to even imagine an afterlife without Alastor present.

#hazbin hotel #alastor #vox #hazbin alastor #hazbin vox #radiostatic #staticradio #staticlovetune #i think thats the reciprocal one #help ive fallen in 2sided radiostatic and i cant get up #fic #mine #be nice to me ive never actually written anything more than a fic prompt #but this wont leave my head so i have to write it or perish #also vox crossdresses a bit here bc housewife vox is too hot of a image to contain itself #wow i wrote a lot of words #watch as Alastor becomes more and more possessive as this goes on lmao #he witnessed vox pleasure himself to him once and was immediately like i will destroy anyone who even thinks of you like this you are MINE #housewife vox

[deep-sea-anemone]

6,20,23,27

For the fanfic author ask game:

6. How do you come up with ideas?

Imma be honest. I have really wierd dreams so half the time they're what inspire my longer fics. Other stuff is based on just random events I go to or inspired by songs. I also really love when people send me prompts as long as they aren't super vague cause it helps with writing warmups

20. Has anyone ever written a fic to gift to you?

No, but I wish! I think it would be super cool to have more writer friends. I used to have a bunch when I still wrote for the spideypool fandom, but we never did any gift swaps or anything.

23. Do you leave comments when reading other people's fics?

Yes! A lot of times though I read right before bed so I'm tired and forget to leave a comment. But when I do I try and be specific and really make the author feel proud! (Tip: when writing a comment, think about what you would say when recommending a book/series to a friend. Why each of the characters are cool, how its unique, pacing, world building, etc. Also quote our fics back to us! A lot of times there's certain lines we're super proud of and it's nice to know it had an impact. And definitely let us know if you've read it more than once!! It's like the highest compliment)

27. Does anyone you know in real life know you write fanfiction?

Not currently. When I dated my ex a few years back, he knew, but we had also met through the spideypool discord so he met my online fandom self before irl me. I do have a cosplay tiktok account where I post skits that a friend/coworker accidentally found a few years ago. THAT was mortifying (but hes actually super supportive of it so ive come to terms with it lol).

Thanks for the ask!

#ask game

[ad1thi]

2020 fic recs!! [Part 2]

part 2 of my 2020 fic recs!! as before, ive limited this to five fics per month; and fics are ordered by the month they were published. This spans fandoms and ships, and hopefully you find something you like!! credit for the idea goes to @iam93percentstardust

***

July

this is the start: @capnwinghead

Clark and Bruce continue raising the Wayne children and encounter a number of challenges along the way.

great minds (love alike): @starklysteve

Steve’s eyes flicks down to Tony’s knees on the floor.

“Are you – are you proposing to me with my ring for you?” Steve asks incredulously, eyes wide and confused.

---

Or, Steve finds Tony’s ring for him, Tony finds Steve’s ring for him. Panic happens.

Marvels Unsolved: @iam93percentstardust

Marvels Unsolved was never supposed to be this popular. It started off as a novelty web-series about Tony trying to convince Bucky about the existence of the supernatural—he firmly believed that if science could turn Uncle Steve from an actual shrimp to the god of muscles, then magic had to be out there—and then they’d started talking about an unsolved crime from the early 20th century after filming an episode one day, forgetting that the camera was still rolling, and had ended up with enough footage to make a second episode about real crimes. They had stayed pretty unknown throughout that first season but then true crime podcasts had exploded in popularity and Unsolved along with them.

it’s a small world after all: @maguna-stxrk

“Great speech.”

Smiling at the compliment, Tony turns around. “Thank y—”

And nearly drops his champagne flute.

His world comes to a stop.

They had only spent a night together, but Tony would recognize those baby blues anywhere.

It’s Steve.

Steve from Tony’s London business trip. Or, as Rhodey has become accustomed to calling him—The Soulmate That Got Away.

you’re in my blood, you’re in my veins: @nethandrake

Tony always figured that if they ever were to break up, it would be like a blaze. Scorching and hot and all-too blinding. Intense like the two of them have always been.

Instead, they break up on a Tuesday, with the rain pelting the windowpane and the midnight silence stifling.

August

Five Times Danny said he’d marry Steve (plus one): @five-wow

Danny humphs. “Look, all I’m saying is, I think I’d probably have married you by now.”

“I’d marry you, too,” Steve says.

Or: An experiment in how many times you can say something before you have to put your money where your mouth is.

Family (You’ve Always Had It): @/SunnyQueen

A black Camaro and a scowling blond was not what Junior had been expecting.

“Hi, sir. You didn’t have to pick me up.”

The blond looked up from the screen on his phone and groaned, completely ignoring Junior's statement. “You are right, I didn't have to."

Ode To Yoga Pants: @riotfalling

OR the continued terrible mating dance of Bucky and Tony, AKA when betting on your friends stops being fun

Through The Years: @hawkbucks

Tony brings home Natasha one day, proclaiming her to be his new sister.

Natasha takes this all in stride.

The broken road that led me home to you: @just-fandomthings

A documented list of conversations between Steve and Danny via text and phone call following the events of 10x22 "Aloha." (Where, even thousands of miles apart, Steve and Danny can't go without talking to each other.)

September

someday, we’ll pass it on to you: @starklysteve

Steve smiles.

Reaching up, he flattens his hand against his son’s far smaller one, curling gently around it. “You wanna be like him?”

“Da!” Peter agrees again.

One year old, and you already know who’s the best of us, Steve pauses to reflect, all his fears chased away by a fierce pride. “Your Dad’s coming home real soon,” he promises, “you should tell him that.”

---------------

Or, five times Peter did the repulsor pose as a toddler

+ one time he used the repulsors as an adult

Classic Sci Fi: @notdoingsohot

Bucky wakes up to Steve telling him he's lost his memory, but not to panic, it'll only last a few days. Easier said than done when the last thing Bucky remembers is fighting Hydra with the Howlies in WWII.

He tries to make the most of it however, and there's this guy... Tony Stark. It's pretty clear the guy hates Bucky's guts, which is unfortunate because god damn is he a sight.

He tries to figure out what he did to wrong Stark, but everyone just tells him he doesn't want to know.

They were right.

Blooms in Frost: @/Diomedes

Tony coughs up his first petal on the sixth of July. He has been married to the love of his life for two years.

Bury a Hanahaki corpse in earth and it will beget the most beautiful garden. All that love, it is said, must go somewhere.

Hanahaki AU: Established relationship

------------------------------------------

A Single Thread of Gold: @lovelyirony

Rhodey doesn't believe in love at first sight or any of that cheesy shit. He just wants someone who is nice, dependable, and safe.

Tony Stark is Housing Service's little problem for the school year, and now he's stuck in Rhodey's room because he's exploded the last two dorm rooms he's been in and won't live off-campus.

high roller, place your bet: @machi-kun

“Would you kiss Stark for a hundred bucks?”

“I would pay a hundred bucks to kiss him.”

October

press my luck: @omg-just-peachy

But... Steve is almost ten years his junior, and he could be with just about anyone, looking and acting like he does. And then there’s the not so small fact of Tony’s name and net worth and the fact that, okay, Tony had paid for Steve’s grad school tuition, and now he’s worried Steve feels obligated to stay. Or something.

Or, Tony is a billionaire, Steve is a grad student, and they learn to let themselves be taken care of.

see it with the lights out: @starklysteve

Tony goes on a business trip, and he does not - not at all - get jealous of Dodger hogging his husband's chest, a territory otherwise known as Tony's pillow.

(or, Steve goes on an Instagram spree and Tony misses home)

adulthood is looking both ways before you cross the street and getting hit by an airplane: @starkslovemail

It was a perfect plan, if Peter did say so himself.

The Buy In: @dracusfyre

For the ImagineTonyandBucky prompt: Mafia AU with Tony as the Boss (except he's a really good one, making the streets safe, keeping drugs away from kids etc) and Bucky as the detective sent to go undercover to catch him out but ends up realizing he's actually doing more good than harm and they end up falling in love

trinkets of your affection: @starklysteve

Kissed him once for every year I loved him, Steve had written.

By that count, Steve owes him five more kisses now.

Tony traces the words, hands trembling, and tips back a shot of Howard's ancient whiskey. None of it burns anymore.

One day, he'll have lived more days without Steve than there are words in the diary.

For the first time since he'd woken with shrapnel in his chest, Tony fears the future.

----------

Or, five things Tony keeps to remember Steve by, and one thing Steve gives him to remember.

November

“Hey Tony”: @riotfalling

Steve points out that Bucky never calls Tony by his actual name. Bucky doesn’t believe him, until he does.

Remembering You is Hard to Do: @lovelyirony

“The future’s crazy, honey-bear.”

Jim looks up.

“Why do you call me that?”

“Call you what?”

“Honey-bear. It’s weird.”

“Inside joke we have,” Tony says, chest tightening. “We thought those couples that have the lovey-dovey nicknames were ridiculous.”

overheard your heartbeat (calling me yours): @starklysteve

"Tony - "

"I wish I could promise to come home this time," he feels the armor crawl back down his arm, continuing unnoticed over Steve's red gloves, then up the blue uniform as Tony fights to keep Steve's gaze firmly fixed on him.

The last eyes Tony might get to see, and he wants to be lost in them.

In the end, his entire life boils down a few simple things: "JARVIS, take care of him for me."

----------

Or, Tony overhears a phonecall where Steve proposes, a battle happens, and a paper ring settles some misunderstandings.

i (really, really, really, really, really, really) like you.: @nethandrake

For as long as Steve can remember, he's been crushing on Tony Stark. The thing is, he's pretty sure Tony doesn't know Steve exists. And how could he? Steve's scrawny and little. He's a nobody compared to Tony who's Mr Popular and the son of a billionaire.

Or at least he thought so until Tony swings by the bakery Steve's mother happens to own to enlist Steve's help in finding the perfect Valentine's Day card.

The perfect Valentine's Day card for someone who isn't Steve.

One Song (My Heart Keeps Singing): @iam93percentstardust

When Thor is old enough to understand what a Heartsong is, he goes to his mother to ask her why he can’t understand the language his is in. He listens as she tells him about the first soulmates who couldn't understand their Heartsong until the day they meet, excited by the thought of a grand adventure, one that will take him across the cosmos in search of his One.

He’ll search all the Nine Realms if he has to.

December

Swiping Right: @s-horne

“Ouch. Definitely a hard pass for that one?”

Steve startled at the sudden comment from the row of chairs behind him and turned around. He’d been passing the time in the airport lounge by swiping through Tinder and had gotten lost in his own world. It was almost jarring to be pulled away from the screen of hot men and back into reality where the PA was screeching and there was noise everywhere.

Adjusting to the difference, Steve frowned. Wait, he knew that face. Oh, shit… he knew that face.

“No, no, it’s fine,” the man said before Steve could get out anything other than an embarrassed sort of yelp. Waving his hand through the air, the stranger smiled ruefully. “I get it. It’s the beard, isn’t it? True be told, it was a weird winter choice that year and I knew it would come back to hurt me.”

Steve didn’t know what to say. He knew it must have shown on his face and could feel himself flushing, panicked and embarrassed all at once. What were the odds of swiping left on someone literally sat behind him?

set your flight path home (to me): @starklysteve 

Tony puts down his welding torch. “I’m building you a plane.”

Stepping carefully over the gears and tools scattered about, Rhodey slowly makes his way to him.

“And when did you become an expert on how to build a plane?”

“Last night,” Tony grins.

---------------

Tony builds a plane, and Rhodey teaches Tony how to fly it. Or he would be teaching Tony, if Tony didn't distract him so much.

I Want A Man With A Slow Hand: @thefourofswords

“Can I ask you a question?” he asked on their way to a crime scene, because no time like the present, and Danny believed in ripping off band-aids.

“Why not?” Steve replied, eyes on the road. “You’re gonna even if I say no.”

“What do you like in bed?”

*

Danny undertakes a very important mission to get Steve laid. For his health. Ahem.

same time next year: @omg-just-peachy

“I forgot to ask. When’s your flight home?” Steve asks, draping his arm over Tony’s shoulder and settling in against him.

Tony ignores the knot that forms in his chest at the idea of it, leaving Steve again for his own impersonal apartment, his piles of books and projects and the nights without sleep.

“Day after tomorrow.”

Steve huffs a little sigh, then brings his lips to Tony’s neck. “Well, we’ll have to make the most of it, won’t we?”

Or, four (4) Christmases with two (2) idiots who can't admit they're in love.

rearrange my heart (to fit your smile): @starklysteve

"You dare," Howard's chair makes an ugly noise as it scrapes against the stone floors, the chatter of the room shifting into hushed whispers and stolen glances. "I am your father and your King!"

"My King is my husband," Tony tips his chin up, defiant. "And I refuse to hear you suggest that my husband has been anything other than good to me."

Next to him, he feels Steve's shoulders stiffen in surprise.

Howard's fist slams loud on the table. "Your husband does not even love you!"

Tony jerks back, burned. He knows that. Knows that Steve did not marry him for love – does not need any reminder of the cold truth, of what he desperately yearns for and can't even hope to have – but the harshness of Howard's words was scalding, and Tony can't afford for this to go any further.

----------

Or, King Steven marries Prince Tony, Tony is pretty sure he shouldn't panic when he falls in love with his own husband, and Steve tries his very best not to cause diplomatic crises.

Keyword: try

#adi's rec list #superbat #superhusbands #winterironfalcon #mcdanno #buckytony #peppernat #superfamily #rhodeytony #ironfamily #and that's a wrap!!!

[clumsyclifford]

Hi I wanted to get more into writing and you’re one of the best writers I know so I was wondering if you had any advice/tips for a new writer? (Or good starting prompts I have no clue where to even begin)

hi, hello, sorry that i left this sitting in my inbox for so long. ive been alternating between forgetting about it and remembering it but having no idea how to respond, so i'm just gonna start typing while i'm thinking of it and hopefully some inspiration will come as i do.

first off: thank you!!! that's very kind of you to say. i'm flattered that you came to me with this inquiry. before i give you the rest of this, i can direct you to this other ask i answered, which also asked me for writing advice. that answer is more technical and more about the actual process of writing itself rather than sort of the "writer's journey" or whatever, which is what this is.

so...okay. advice. i can do my best, though i will admit i haven't been a new writer in quite a long time, so i don't know how much this will track. that said, i do have the perspective of being able to look back on my past self from when i was a new writer, so i guess here are some suggestions i can give you based on that:

read. this one is surpassingly self-evident but it is true for all writers everywhere and ESPECIALLY good for fanfic writers - read fic. trust me, the quickest way to get an idea of how to write characters is to see how lots of other people are writing them.

write what you want to see written. there's always something!! the best best best place to start writing is filling a gap for the content you would love to read but that no one else is writing. this trick has never failed me. you think anyone else is writing acappella AUs? nope, it's just me. (so far. eyes emoji.) have you ever thought to yourself, "man, i wish someone would write a fic where ____" ?? THAT'S YOUR FIC. write it. go for it. it's all you.

get an editor. a beta, if you will. a second set of eyes who - and this is important - will give you honest and helpful feedback on how to improve your story. genuine caveat: if you don't care about improving then fuck this step. sometimes you just wanna create and you don't want judgement or anything. that's totally valid. but if you want to hone your craft, you need a second opinion, and you need someone who won't just say "this is soooo good!" and omit all the parts that could use a facelift. constructive criticism is your friend. i still remember con crit someone gave me from like five years ago. it made me a better writer.

i am now at a crossroads, because as a fic-writing veteran i want to advise you to not post immediately, and to sit on your writing for a little while and leave and come back to it with fresh eyes, because that is genuinely a good piece of advice. however. i understand the urge to post a fic. validation is always nice!! and i am really not one to talk about delayed gratification. so i'm going to stand by this, but just know that i know it's hypocritical and a little preachy. but there is real value in leaving your fic for even just a few days, untouched, and then returning to it. you start to catch little details, or even bigger ones, and because you refrained from posting it, you have the opportunity to fix those problems. i have gone back and reread some fics that i wrote and then posted in a spur of the moment, and i wish i'd waited to post those ones. there are things i would fix.

obviously this has a dark side, which is that if you keep sitting on a fic and returning to it you're going to keep finding problems with it and then you're just beating a dead horse, but there's a sweet spot in the middle there and i trust you to find it.

and of course the most important piece of advice, which trumps all this other shit i've said:

write. write! just write something. whatever thoughts you're having, write them down. they don't have to form a cohesive story. they don't have to become anything. you have a picture in your mind? describe it. you see two seconds of a scene? put it in words. eventually an idea is going to grab you by the throat and threaten to throw you into the river unless you write it right now this minute. and on the other end of that, you'll have written a story, and that's awesome. writing anything at all is amazing, because you told a story where a story didn't exist. you put words together that had never been put together that way before. you created something unique. well done.

NOW as to prompts!!! i can direct you to my prompts tag. unfortunately i'm not sure how much more specific i can be with this, because everyone feels differently about different kinds of prompts. for example, i personally prefer dialogue prompts to scenario prompts, because i think dialogue prompts still leave the opportunity to write any scenario at all, as long as you can fit the dialogue in there. on the flip side i know there are people who prefer scenario prompts specifically because it gives you the exact scenario in which the characters find themselves, and they can be doing or saying more or less whatever you decide, but you don't have to choose the AU/circumstances because they've been chosen for you. different strokes, different folks! i recommend choosing one that inspires you and seeing what you do with it. if you get stuck, try again. there's no limit to the number of prompts you can steal for your own personal gain. go absolutely insane.

i hope this was helpful, though i know it may not have been. if i had left this ask in my inbox any longer it may have begun gathering dust and i didn't want to leave you completely hanging. good luck!!! i have faith in you. and feel free to swing by with any more questions/inquiries which i will once again try to answer to the best of my abilities. xoxo

#writing advice #ahhhhhhhhhhhhh #stress #i hope this is helpful anon! sorry for the late reply #i just rewatched endgame it was such a choice for me to do that at midnight #but it happened #and now i am eating salt and then now after this gonna go make some tea #ainsella tea party timeeeeee #ask #anonymous

[launchpadthai]

Heliotropism [a Fethsteel fanfic] 1/?

Summary: Fethry finds Steelbeak in a bad state and gladly nurses him back to health. Genre: Fluff, bonding, platonic intimacy. Confident!Fethry and Humbled!Steelbeak I just want these two to interact so badly Q_Q Rating: G Word count: 1500ish

Notes:  AU where Steelbeak is washed to sea instead of saved by F.O.W.L from S3E3. Shout out to whoever posted that prompt first and to Mighty-Ant’s oneshot fic with the same prompt for the inspiration! I consumed all the Fethsteel I could find, a lot of other people’s head canons and ideas inspired this so if something looks familiar, it’s cause it is lol. There’s plenty more written roughly, just need to polish it up. I really like Fethry’s comic personality so I leaned more towards it. Also AU rules, the Sublab didn’t get blown up. **No beta and I haven’t written fanfic in years so if you see anything written weirdly feel free to correct me! I’ve been sitting on it for months but if I don’t post it now I never will okay thank u 

--

The absolute pure darkness of say, the depths of a cave or the middle of a forest during a new moon was something Steelbeak was use to. Dim lights in a hidden base, or the cheap lights of a jail cell were almost homey to him. Almost.

So when he woke up in an unknown dim room, he didn’t feel the need to panic. Though, his head did hurt more than usual as he sat up slightly and reached up to rub it and was interrupted by a small tug. He looked over to see an IV needle stuck in the crook of his arm so reflexively, he reached to pull it out. “It’s just water.” Said a voice, cutting through the dark. Steelbeak tried to blink the sleep from is eyes, only able to make out a small blob of a body walking towards him. With another bag of clear fluid, a duck with a red hat appeared. “I don’t have anything fancier than that.” His tone was weirdly upbeat, or so Steelbeak thought, considering his situation. He tensed and a sharp pain shot through his chest, making him groan and the other bird paused mid step. “Hey, it’s okay, I’m not gonna hurt you.” He put his hands up and spoke in a casual, yet jolly tone. “I’m Fethry, we found you in the ocean.” “We?” Steelbeak meant to say out loud but nothing came out. Anxiety began to bubble as he realized he couldn’t open his beak. He grabbed at it, trying to pry it open but it didn’t budge. He cursed Heron and the duck at the lighthouse but Steelbeak knew it was the buzzards. What he didn’t know, was if it was a malfunction or if the remote had that kind of range. Either way, it was annoying.

He punched at his beak a few times before falling back into the bed roughly, immediately regretting it as more sharp pains exploded in his chest. Fethry openly winced, watching as Steelbeak curled up and grabbed fistfuls of blankets to ease the pain while trying to catch his breath as much as he could through a closed beak.

“Okay, so that isn’t normal then. I tried to get it open myself but thought you just had that strong of a jaw.” Fethry walked to the bed while chuckling. Steelbeak let him get closer, but knew he could still take the bird out if he tried anything funny, even in his current state. “I’m pretty sure you’ve got a cracked rib, maybe broken?” Fethry spoke calmly. “You’re severely dehydrated too.” He switched the bags quickly, stepping back to give the larger bird room once more.

Steelbeak caught his breath, stopping the tunnel vision enough to scan the room. He was in a small bed that looked out of place compared to the rest of the area. Some kind of lab with big windows that were pitch black, save for some small dim lights that seemed to be floating around...Wait what? Were those Christmas lights? Was he in space? Steelbeak squinted and Fethry followed his gaze. “They’re bio-luminescent krill.” He said through a smile. “They were worried about you.” ‘They?’ Steelbeak’s expression spoke out loud. “We were the one’s that found you. You’re lucky you were so close to the lab.” He waved lightly, looked over to Steelbeak and tossed his head sideways a bit, motioning to the window. Without thinking, Steelbeak put his hand up and also waved lightly, a small gesture to the krill. They both looked into the sparkling, floating abyss in silence, the only noise coming from a generator. Somewhere down the empty halls, a light flickered and there was a groan, the sound of steel under pressure. The lab seemed to breathe, humming a metallic lullaby.

Steelbeak tried to fight off the exhaustion, his eye lids grew heavy but he lost the battle. Sinking back into his pillow, he fell asleep so fast he almost missed Fethry bringing the blankets back up to his chin.

--

Steelbeak didn’t know how long he slept. He was keeping track of the dream to nightmare ratio but lost the numbers when his eyes opened for the first time without a headache in...who knows how long? He was still in the same bed in the corner of the same lab but it was bright, like noon and Fethry greeted him even brighter, like the sun itself. Oh, that’s who knows how long. Steelbeak sighed but flinched slightly when Fethry got closer and jolted his arms out. “What’s your name?” He wiggled the marker and pad, a motion for Steel to take them. 

He spent a little too long writing his name and when Fethry got the pad back, he stifled a laugh at the wobbly lines of “STEELBEAK.” Steel furrowed his eyebrows, sat up straight, and immediately curled forwards from the pain in his chest. Not the first time bravado had hurt him.  “You seem more like a man of action anyways and I’m really good at Charades.”

Fethry was able to rig up a device that could fit through a small hole on the side of Steelbeak’s mouth so he could eat, but not before some convincing that Fethry needed to drill said hole. ‘I’m gonna kick this guy’s butt when I feel better.’  He thought through the vibration of the drill as it distorted his vision, making Fethry a fuzzy blur. It was quick, like a piercing, but soon he had the taste of something like gravy hitting his tongue and his body lurched, feeling desperately hungry. He swiped the tube from his hands with malice and Fethry just giggled as Steel poured another cup of the liquified food in the funnel and crouched in the corner, facing away from the small bird. “You’ll have your energy back in no time! I’ll run you a bath.” Fethry put a lid on the liquified food and left, humming a soft tune. Steelbeak brought his legs closer to his chest, trying to shrink even smaller, away from the whole world.  Fethry was the smaller bird, so why did he feel like he was?

--

As soon as he had enough energy to walk on his own without getting winded, Steelbeak did what every sane person who was held hostage did. He tried to break out. Every exit was met with loudly painted warning signs though and he had to talk himself out of swimming to the surface a couple times. Whenever he hit a dead end or his stomach started growling, he’d heave a sigh, go back to the designated lab room, crawl into the bed and ignore Fethry while he did...whatever it was he was doing. One day he was placing lab equipment in a big cart when Steel walked in after another failed attempt and collapsed on the bed. ”I can use a different bathroom so you don’t have to walk so far, you know, if you really need privacy.” Steelbeak’s face flushed as he sat up quickly, flung his head around and scowled at Fethry. He just cackled and pushed the cart out. “I’m just kidding!”

Steel felt confident when he finally found a room with what looked like escape pods on the outside of it. So he opened the nearest hatch, and almost drowned again.

As he floundered in the flooding room, his hands on the ceiling, he took what he thought was his last breath, when the alarms stopped blaring and a big metal plate slid over the hatch, stopping the deluge. The water drained quickly at multiple grated pipelines and Steel floated down, collapsing on his hands and knees, attempting to catch his breath through his nostrils. That had to be the most annoying part about his locked beak. That, and the fact he couldn’t eat, or talk, or do anything. He heard a door slide open and a pair of webbed feet met his vision. He kept his head down and prepared himself for a verbal assault. “There’s always the front door.” Fethry said, his voice playful. Steelbeak looked up, admiring his casual stance. A confidence shone from Fethry that Steel craved his own body felt again. One hand was in his coat pocket, the other held out a towel towards the crouched bird. “I can take you up to shore, you’re not a prisoner.” Steel hesitated, accepted the towel, then sat back on his heels and buried his face in it. He learned early on in life he had to take and fight for what he wanted, the simplicity of “asking” blew over his head. He felt silly. He was going to feel embarrassed for the rest of his miserable life, wasn’t he?

“Do you have a way to unlock your beak out there?” Steel shook his head in the towel. He could face F.O.W.L again, but his communicator was probably lost at sea. Any real reason to contact them was slowly flowing down the drains with the last trickle of the unwelcomed sea water, and having to beg for his spot back sounded more awful that usual. It actually sounded so bad, it was the last thing he wanted to do. “I did some research and studied your beak so I ordered some reverse magnets.” Steelbeak looked up from the towel at the smaller bird. “Stick around for a bit, underwater parcel delivery is inconsistent but they should be here any day. I can help you override that lock.”  All of Fethry’s weight was on one foot, both hands in his pockets and Steelbeak was baffled by the laid back stance. To place the cherry on top of Steelbeak’s confusion, Fethry shrugged nonchalantly, and said, “If you want.”

Steelbeak organized his thoughts. Fethry had yet to do anything to Steelbeak that warranted danger, he was just nice, right? This is what nice people did? With a lost expression, Steel looked back up to Fethry, who smiled again and reached a hand out. “Can I show you my favorite part of the lab?”

Part two

#fethsteel #Fanfic #fethry duck #ducktales

[aloera]

The ask prompt is too long to fit into an ask TT_TT but here's the doc for it docs(.)google(.)com/document/d/1yDI7iFRhOJ8ENv_IwZAo3rDSUqj80EiJROS10RzRbj4/edit

the lengths u are going for this,,, much appreciated you're very sweet!!!

prompts + answers under the cut!!

INTRODUCTION

Name: aloera

AO3 account: aloera

Fandoms you write for: bnha

How many stories have you written so far: 19

FANFICTION PROFILE

What's your favorite fandom to write for? hmm,,, used to do pjo and eah (ever after high) and eah was fun as fuck i will say!!! i think bnha is my fav mostly bc i made the most friends in this fandom :D

What's your favorite character/person to write for? bkg and kirishima!! cannot choose do not make me <3

Fic you'd want to improve? probably what we deserve? i rushed the beginning and the confession is a bit stilted imo

Hardest fic you've written? between lion and men -_- bc there is so much canon compliant stuff i've gotta write out before i get to the divergence and its HARD

Easiest fic you've written? come home to me!!! it happened so easily,,, no second guessing no writers block just vibes <33 was lovely i miss it

What would you say is the most "famous" fic you've ever written? also probably come home to me? its got the most interaction

first line of the first fic you've ever written and published. [not including my 2014 ffnet fics] "The bell rings, class starts, and Katsuki and Midoriya are inexplicably absent." from come home to me

Have you ever done a collab with another writer? yes!!!!! on two separate occasions and its so fucking fun i highly recommend trying it out its the best

Do you beta? if asked but honestly im a shit beta lmao

Do you like joining fic fests/exchanges? depends on what i have going on irl but in general yeah!!

FANFICTION PREFERENCES

Fluff or angst? definitely fluff

"OCs" or "Reader" inserts? reader inserts!! have been going ham on them recently

Blurbs or drabbles? blurbs!!

One thing you love about fanfiction i just. i really love slice of life romance?? and most media doesn't give you that bc its dedicated to plot and action and that's valid!! but fanfiction fills in the gap which is really nice

One thing you don't like about fanfiction most of the stuff i don't like is less about actual fanfiction and more about how people behave about it

What is/are your favorite fandom author/authors? IVE BEEN WAITING FOR THIS ONE!!! TURN IT UP!!!

bnha: hiuythn, rae_tnub, Moniix, Ata_Lanta, wrunic, chezka, PurplePersnickety, surveycorpsejean, mahadevi, arxaris, deviance, Oceanbreeze7, MikeWritesThings, bonnia, wonhaebunny, dinosuns

voltron: hiuythn, Oceanbreeze7, DeerstalkerDeathFrisbee, arahir, dinosuns,

and honorable mention to loveclouds im not even in the haikyuu fandom i just love their fics So Much

these are just the ones off the top of my head i have so many favourites idc if i'm only supposed 2 have one!! die mad about it!!!

What is your favorite trope? secret relationship + relationship reveal til the day i die babie <3 <3

Least favorite trope? hm,,, probably just like. angst lmao i cannot stand 90% of it

A fanfiction cliché that you can't help but love? coffeeshop aus,,,, so good

Do you have a type when it comes to pairings? the otp where its like. piece of shit + himbo = love. ex. krbk, catradora, jade/beck

Favorite setting/au? hm,,, truly i cannot pick one KGKSJNHKj but i really like college aus!! and modern aus!! and roommate aus!!

Explain the meaning of your favorite line of dialogue you've written as if someone hasn't read it in context. “He doesn’t know,” Katsuki says, softly. “My timer stopped and nothing happened. He’s not mine.”

the line is from what we deserve!! it's a soulmate au where your timer counts down to the moment that you meet your soulmate!! bakugou's timer ends at USJ when he and kirishima attack kurogiri at the same time (impulsive kings <33) but kirishima's timer doesn't end until kamino because that's when he accepts himself as bakugous soulmate!! unfortunately, when bakugous timer has reached 0, he turned to see that kirishima's was still ticking and therefore believes that kirishima isn't his soulmate.

this line just,, idk. it's really sad. bakugou is such an action-driven character? if something doesn't go his way he Makes it go his way. he's got this insanely volatile quirk and he's got impeccable control of it!! but his love for kirishima isn't something that he can change and he's not going to ruin kirishima's chance of finding his own soulmate because he loves him and wants him to be happy. i really wanted to focus on how resigned he is? and how unusual that is for a character like him.

Favorite trope/genre to write? again, secret relationship with relationship reveals <33 fluff in general is my wheelhouse!!!

A trope/genre you haven't written but think would be a fun challenge? idk if this counts?? have been working on some dead dove concepts!! its super different from what i normally write so its a cool challenge

The one trope/concept you'll never touch and why probably cheating/infidelity?? it just looks,,, super difficult to write well and i don't have enough of an interest in it to try it out

Which do you prefer to write: longer or shorter fics? shorter!! low attention span gang <3

Ideal length to read? 5-10k?

Ideal length to write? 4-8k!!

How long was the longest fic you've ever written? control fraek is around 28k i think?

Have you ever written an AU? yeah!! i've done restaurant au's, soulmate au's, pro hero aus, and fantasy aus (general, not the bnha fantasy ending)

What's your favorite AU trope? hm,, probably when two people in authority are in a secret relationship? ceo's/uni professors/etc etc

Have you ever written smut? yeah!! was. difficult tho

What's your comfort genre? (the one you fall on most in writing/reading) fluff,,, hurt/comfort,,, fix-it fics with happy endings <3

If you were to start writing in other fandoms, which would they be? maybe jjk?? the characters are really cool!!!! fr i might go back to my ever after high roots i love the characters and setting so Much its so fun!!! idec if no ones into it anymore!!!!!

Is there a trope you think you could be easily recognized by in your writing? i've had people say they saw the mention of buff hagakure and recognized it was me so. probably that skdjhnksjd

WRITING STYLE

How would you describe your style? i tend to use shorter sentences and pretty simple words i think? and i gravitate towards lighthearted concepts that allow for ensemble casts and humour!!

Describe your style in three words romcom but fanfic

Favorite words to use when writing? the word reverent!! fuckin love including it!!

Dialogue tags or no dialogue tags? (she said, he said, they said, etc) dialogue tags!!!

Favorite dialogue tag (other than said, if you use them) again idk if this counts but "they said softly" is unmatched

Long sentences vs short vs a mix short <33

What colors would you use to describe your writing? hm,,, depends on the fic i would say?? control fraek is dark green to me?? kinda like a forest at night yk?? scary but there's still life there. sugar cookies is yellow like early morning sunlight, when it rains is yellowy-orange like a caution sign. not gonna list all of them cause theres a lot its just. do u get it? the colours change based on the vibe of the fic.

What song or music genre would you use to describe your writing? think. i am constantly trying to emulate that moment at the end of wasteland baby when hozier goes "im in love/im in love with you."

What kind of metaphors do you rely on? religious metaphors my beloved <33 they're just so pretty!!! i also love comparing stuff to water for some reason?? like that ocean vuong quote thats like "what are you now?/water." it goes hard!!!

What's something you'd say is experimental in your writing at this time? definitely action!! i have,,, no idea how to write it so anything i do is really just me playing around and seeing what works and what doesn't

Do you prefer to write by hand or to type? i've tried both!! personally i prefer typing because it goes way faster but i will say that writing by hand lets me get words down when i'm going through writer's block

What is your preferred place to write (notebook, laptop, cellphone, etc.)? laptop!!

What app/apps do you use to write (word, notepad, etc.)? google docs skjdnkjh its fine on desktop but mobile is,,,,, disgusting

Do you keep a notebook or file/notes page in your phone/device for notes on your writing? ngl i just have everything organized in my drive?? one folder per fandom and then sub folders for ideas+hcs, unfinished wips, and finished fics. multichaps get sub sub folders so i can organize outlines and drafts

Do you listen to music to help you write? yeah!! playlists organized by fic vibe :D

Where do you usually go to write (bedroom, living room, etc.)? mostly in my bedroom??? but moving around to different stops helps too i think!!

How long does it usually take for you to write? again this depends on what i have going on irl, how attached i am to the idea, my mindset at the time, etc!! i am,, the least consistent person skjnhdkjh.

What's your favorite font to use when writing? times new roman my beloved

Other writing habits? sometimes i'll write in the dark?? bad for my eyes but for some reason it gets the words flowing

CONCEPTUALIZATION

How do you conceptualize your ideas? (See specific moments like they're a movie, writing specific lines in your head, don't know until you put the words on paper, etc.) i tend to get inspiration from movies, books, poems, or other fics!!! sometimes one line just makes me go oh,, i want to write something like that,,, and then it helps me create an idea that makes me feel the same way?? i did this with control fraek!!!! i wanted a scenario where bakugou was cold and calculating and i was like hm. to do that he’d have to be focusing on something important. and from there i was able to flesh out the rest of the idea.

Which comes first: the pairing or the plot? with krbk its always always the pairing,, i'll be sitting there like wow <33 i love them <33 what if one of them had amnesia <33 (which, yes, wip!!) otherwise it's usually the plot!! and i slot in characters that i feel make sense

Have you ever used a prompt? yeah!! used a prompt for wlw week 2020 and it was fun as hell

Do you write around the story around a specific scene you want to get to or do you start from a plot idea definitely the first!!!! i almost always write like,,, a super messy scene thats 90% dialogue, keep it in my head, and then write the entire fic around that one moment

Do you find that you include a projection of some part of yourself in the way you write a character? a lot of the time when i write love confessions or love in general i'll have one of the characters think or say that the other person makes their head quiet? and it's because that's what i feel whenever i'm in love?? a quiet mind. i project on characters yeah but i think most of the projection actually goes to the way that i write love

Do you research some of the things you write deeply, partially and kind of wing the rest, or play entirely by ear (in this case, go with whatever base knowledge of the subject you have)? most of the time if i do research it'll be about the setting (ex. the izakaya in to have and to hold) or if i'm having the characters interact with an object that they like. need to know how to use (me, in control fraek: google. hey google. does someone die if they get shot in the foot??? no???? awesome thank u <3)

Have you ever had an idea for a story and forgot about it? lmaoo yeah all the time i'll find like 500-2k words of concepts in my gdocs like i do. not remember this at all

Is there a trope you think you could be easily recognized by in your writing? probably krbk secret relationship lmao

Are there concepts you've tried that turned out better than expected? yeah!! i fully thought the action in control fraek would be awful but it turned out not bad??? which im happy with

Are there concepts you've tried that turned out worse than you expected? again, what we deserve, i personally think it would have worked out better if i'd paced it slower and drawn out the pining but i. do not feel like going back to fix it so its staying the way that it is. pining is so fucking hard to do AHHHH i get so tired with it!!! im like just date already!!!!

PROCESS

How do you come up with titles? in rare occasions (literally. all my multichaps for some reason) the title comes after writing like .5 words of the first chapter im like YES this is it!!!!! sometimes i write the whole thing and pick out one line that fits (what i did with come home to me) a lot of the time i just. steal from songs or poems that i like

What's your favorite emotion to cause on your readers? i like making people happy!!!! love when people comment saying they're cheered up

What's your favorite emotion to write? lovelovelovelovelovelove

Have you ever cried or felt any emotion while reading something you've written? never cried?? but sometimes i'll rereading my hurt/comfort fics 4. yk. comfort

Do you write in order or whatever comes to you? in order!! unless i have a scene that i Need to write and i'll quickly jot it down so that i don't forget

Usual way you procrastinate while writing? ...doing asks like this, making playlists, discord, watching netflix. what don't i do smh

Do you outline or free write? i am. so shit at outlines. i mostly free write and write lil notes for stuff that i wanna add later

Do you set word goals or scene goals (scenes you want to include)? yes!! like i said i'll write loose notes for scenes that i want to add later!! it gives me something to write towards :D

What do you consider when writing your scenes? what goes into making the atmosphere and mood you want? to set a scene i do two things? the first is like,, the five senses bc that always sets the scene really well and makes it feel Real. i'll visualize stuff in my head like its a movie and write out what i would want to tell the set designer?? if the lights are low, if the space is busy, if it's supposed to exude comfort or not.

for putting forward the character's mood one thing i've found that makes a difference is sentence length!! long sentences are good for making a character seem flustered and nervous or not really in control of their emotions? good for love confessions. short sentences are good for when the character is focused on something or short on time. good for fights!!

What's something you never considered to include in your writing that you can't leave out now? def buff hagakure,,,, once i thought of it i was like. if i don't include this at least once in every single fic how could i look at myself in the mirror!!!!!! how could i face anyone!!!!

How do you start a story? establishing a fact about the character or describing the setting! option a is one single thread of gold, option b is between lion and men

How do you end a story? either by tying it back to the beginning or doing like a funny kind of closing??? option a is sugar cookies, option b is a godless society

How do you get out of writer's block? change something!! move something!! i go from typing to handwriting, moving from my bedroom to my living room, switching wips to work on something else!! i do sprints as well?? give myself like fifteen minutes to write something and sometimes 200 words opens up the way for another 2k. sometimes i'll just delete like 500 words and start fresh

Do you edit? or do you toss your writing out there? i edit!!! i'll go over it myself then send it to one or two betas (bee my beloved <33)

How do you edit? do you use spellcheck, grammar checkers, etc? bee is my grammar checker bc he is So Good with grammar. i use grammarly as well for spellcheck stuff mostly?? sometimes my edit process is just like "am i tired of looking at this!! yes <3" and then i post it

PROGRESS

Do you usually like what you write? yeah!!! i post stuff that makes me happy and that i'm fine with rereading!!! i write stuff for self-indulgence reasons first and foremost and i think my writing reflects that sjhnksj

Have you ever written something you didn't like but posted anyways? nope!! even what we deserve i LIKED even if i see a lot of room 4 improvement!! if i don't like smth it's not getting posted

Do you find yourself rereading your writing often? yeah!! the reason i wrote so much krbk secret relationship is because i loved it but i'd read all that there was so i just,, wrote more,, ngl its kinda nice being in a place where i actually like my writing bc i can write stuff that i want to see and really enjoy it!!

Can you tell us anything about your current WIP? sure!! i'm currently working on when it rains which is a fic where bakugou gets hit by a crying quirk!! i'm gonna be using it to explore So Much of all might's character and his relationships with bakugou and aizawa (and i think some people from his past!!)

Can you give us a sneak peek on your current WIP? “You did something. What the hell did you do?” Kirishima sounds pissed off. It would amuse Katsuki if he wasn’t fighting just to stay standing.

“Nothing he didn’t ask for,” Shinsou replies.

“K’ri… shima,” Katsuki croaks out. “‘S fine. Not him.”

His chest collapses back into the familiar dry heaving after that but Kirishima shuts up. He doesn’t apologize to Shinsou.

Kirishima’s a good friend, stubborn and loyal. He stands by Katsuki’s side like an attack dog, blocking him from the view of anyone ogling at his tears.

The last line you've written Ochako knows more than she'd realized. She knows enough to keep her guard up.

It’s not enough.

Open a wip. what’s the first line?

Katsuki wakes up feeling like absolute fucking shit.

INSIGHT

What's your favorite thing about writing? touched on this before but it's mainly just being able to write the things that i want to see and actually enjoy them!!! actually reread them!!!! i thought "wouldn't it be cool if bkg and kirishima owned a restaurant together" and then i wrote it and i like it enough to reread it!!!! being able to create content for myself makes me. so happy

How do you keep yourself inspired? this is gonna sound narcissistic maybe but honestly i'm just really excited about my ideas and where i'm gonna take them and the idea of "i'm gonna get to That scene" keeps me going through the entire thing. also my friends!!!! i'll talk to them about fics and their reactions keep me hyped up enough to finish!!!!

What is your favorite thing to write? just,, slice of life romance,,, stuff thats silly and makes people laugh!!

What do you think your strengths are in writing? i'm good with dialogue!! i do lil voice acting sessions with myself to make sure everything sounds natural and like it's coming from that character skhjnskj

i'm comfortable with my portrayal of love as well??? i spend a lot of time thinking about what it is exactly that i'm trying to get across and i think it turns out well!!

What are things you wish you could practice more? on one hand i wanna get better at writing angst on the other hand i dislike writing angst. do you see my issue

One way you've improved your writing since you began? characterization!! i think i've gotten better at writing characters that are all Different and bring different things to the table!!! i used to project a lot more and it would compromise the characterization because the character was like 70% me and 30% them? not to say that projection is bad but if you do it too much it just,, doesn't read like the character and from a reader's standpoint the narrative can become less compelling

One aspect of writing you're still working on? writing action!!! i. literally hate writing it but i write for a fandom about superheroes so. Unfortunately i gotta learn.

A piece of writing advice you've learned while writing saw this on another tumblr post but they said sometimes if you're struggling with a scene, the problem is five lines back. i've found that to be true!!!! sometimes u gotta delete a chunk and start a little ways back!! i did this with too busy being yours because i was stuck for Weeks and i deleted like 25% of what i had but it helped me actually finish it :D

A bit of writing advice you can't stand when people shit on show don't tell for being overrated lmao bc when u read their writing you can Tell

Something you wish you knew when you first started writing? ,,,,honestly i kind of wish i could know some of the stuff that i used to when i first started writing?? technically i'm better now but creatively i was must better when i wasn't stressing about whether anyone would like what i was writing. so i guess i wish i knew that i should keep that confidence? i kinda wish that i wasn't as insecure about other people's writing styles because i never used to be!!

Something you've learned in life that you apply in writing there's no point in feeling inferior?? writing one genre isn't better than the other. being in one fandom isn't better than being in another. the kind of language you use or the length of your paragraphs- none of that stuff like. matters. what matters is that you're having fun and happy with what you're creating!!!! enjoy other peoples writing but don't let it make you feel worse about yours :D

#AHH ive wanted to answer these for so long...... bro fr i was so happy when u sent these!!! like wow!! finally got sent one!!! #sorry for how long the responses are idk how to be concise #asks #anon #a(lore)a

[elfyourmother]

Fic Writer Meme

I was tagged by @kunstpause and @elveny

Name

Fandoms

Most popular oneshot

Most popular multichapter

Actual worst part of writing

How you choose your titles

Do you outline

Ideas I probably won’t get around to, but wouldn’t it be nice?

Callouts @ Me

Best writing traits

Spicy Tangential Opinion

Name: Bisho (bc of an ancient blog url), kylenne on AO3 (ancient ancient LJ etc), queensurana on twitter (nsfw acct for spicy crimes). Aurora is my preferred name atm but no one uses it tbh

Fandoms: Final Fantasy XIV is the only one I care about rn. But I write Final Fantasy in general though, emphasis on IV and XII. I don’t fuck w Bioware anymore except Mass Effect (the trilogy) but that and Dr*gon Age is where most people here know me from. I also wrote Warcraft until Blizzard pissed me off so badly that I couldn’t even really engage with my massively overhauled shared WoW canonverse with Dandy anymore.

Most Popular Oneshot: Of all time? First and Last and Always, the Garrus/Thane smut. People really dig that one.

More recently, No Sweeter Warmth, which was a Kinktober prompt about the OT4. It’s pretty much pure me (bathtub smut, polyamory) but there was some really fun banter with Estinien and Haurchefant in this one

Most Popular Multichapter: Of all time? Heart of the Phoenix, my basically abandoned re-write of WoW Burning Crusade, centered on the Illidari (not the demon hunters, fuck Blizzard’s stupid retcons), and specifically through the lens of Kael/Illidan/Vashj’s tumultuous relationship. Every comment I get on this one makes me feel guiltier that it’s still a WIP because I had some really phenomenal world building and character development going on in it and I really miss writing those three characters specifically but I just don’t know if I can ever get into the headspace to do this again. I also had to overhaul the entire first Act and felt overwhelmed by it.

More recently, A Warmer Hearth, which was a much shorter one about how Gisele and Haurchefant got together, in the wake of the Monetarist coup in Ul’dah. Smut and angst and sweetness. It was fun.

Actual Worst Part of Writing: Silencing the inner critic that’s merciless and hateful and sounds an awful lot like my abuser. The perfectionism that paralyzes me.

How You Choose Your Titles: with great agony pain and suffering

Do You Outline? Never. Heart of the Phoenix is the only exception because it was just too massive an undertaking not to, but otherwise I’m one of those write as it comes and let the story take me where it wants to go types. I’m constitutionally incapable of advanced planning when I write.

Ideas I probably won’t get around to, but wouldn’t it be nice? More Gisele/Thancred in general tbqh.

Callouts @ Me: The fact that your work doesn’t fit the popular mold of certain ships and fanons and notions of what’s acceptable doesn’t mean your work is bad or inferior. Having fun is more important than being popular. Being true to yourself and your cherished ideals is what matters, because that’s what you think is fun and authenticity is always what is most gratifying. You have never, ever prospered or felt good about yourself when trying to contort yourself to fit mainstream anything. There is a place for you wherever you make it and you have an audience that deeply appreciates and loves what you do. If you need to write for anyone besides yourself, write for them.

Best writing traits: Banter and ability to capture characters’ voices. Dialogue in general. Dreamy, immersive prose.

Spicy Tangential Opinion: There is absolutely nothing wrong with wanting your OC to be the center of the universe, much less in a game where the Player Character is written that way canonically, and for marginalized OCs written by marginalized people it’s absolutely a revolutionary act of healing and self-love. Centering chromatic (and particularly Black), fat, trans, queer, disabled, etc characters is always going to be a powerful, radical act in a sea of Whiteness. Writing these things will feed your heart. And ultimately that’s what creating is about to me. Feeding myself and others w love.

#writing memes

[pinkykitten]

I was tagged by @writing-with-melon I hope my answers aren’t complete waste or if time and if so I’m sorry and I love you

Rules: Answer ten 10 questions, ask 10, and tag 10 people

1. What song automatically plays in your head when you look out the window on a long drive? 

i dont really have an answer for this. i think i just automatically think about any song ive been listening to recently or any song that has been stuck in my head. 

2.  Do you have some snacks nearby when you write?

well i live in a two story house so the kitchen is downstairs and im usually lazy busy so since i have a mini fridge upstairs i just usually get water to drink while im writing. its kinda hard to eat and write cuz i loose focus really easily so when i am writing i am writing! i am in the zone! but if i am a little hungry ill usually snack on candy like chocolate kinder joys i love them but they r so expensive or snack on chips but i get like salt on my fingers or i like cheetos so cheetos dust and that just gets everywhere and later my hands and keyboard kinda smell like fart. 3. What do you do to combat creative burnout?

so burnout happens to me a lot so to get inspiration i either read other stories or fanfics which gets my head gears turning or i admire a piece of art or photography or a song. whats so unique and satisfying with writing you can explore and go anywhere with it, hehehe erotic if you know what i mean lol jk there are no barriers with writing just your imagination. there is inspiration any where you go and id advise to never stop writing. even if its a few short sentences or paragraphs about anything even bird poop its still progression and your mind is working and your searching for words like its all good for you bby.  4. Do you use (or like to use) prompts? 

i do ill put the link here. im thinking of changing it though to do something different. 

5. What is your favorite place to write?

lol boring, i know but my room. my room is really bright in the mornings and comfortable and chill and i have a candle of the pandora ride in disney that smells like the ride so its all good and relaxing and super peaceful plus i have a picture of myself the age of like 9 on my desk idk why but it encourages me and makes me focus to make sure i never get that cringy again. 

6. What is a hobby or yous that you usually don’t talk about?

well i like working out HAHAHAHAHA jk that was a joke...get it...cuz i much rather be eatingokillstop. but i really like to draw which i have a art page you can see it if you click here pls look at my failed attempts to be hip and cool with the cool kids and being artsy fartsy. another hobby is i really like to do makeup and nail art, nail art is really tough guys no joke if you do it like you got wizard powers are something. maybe its bc my nails are shorter than pete davidson and ariana grande’s relationship, alright im trying to stop i swear!

7. Do you play an instrument? Which one?

no i wish though. i always wanted to learn to either play the piano or electric guitar cuz H.E.R looks so cool doing it. 

8. How do you feel about your handwriting?

it sucks dont even try me. my sister can barely read it like no wonder nobody wants to steal my signature heck they can’t even read it!

9. Can you tell us of a story that marked your development as a person? As a writer?

ok sit back guys, sniff a nice amount of crack and get ready for the most cringy moment of my life but also a time when i knew i was meant to be *inhale* a fanfic writer. 

so it was elementary school, i think 3rd grade and for my writing assignment we were given a prompt of idk what the heck tbh i think it was like be outside the box and im like ok imma nail this cuz im a weird child and yeah so i got my papers and pencil and i went TO TOWN on this paper. so i wrote two stories. one short story with a picture to go with it and one long story that yeah i buried years ago. so my first story was about a farmer was about that farming life. he had chickens and dairy. so i cant remember if the cheese was spoiled but doesnt matter. anywho these cheese and a chicken were alive like they could talk in the story and i gave them faces, yikes. but the whole story was the farmer was a b*tch and he was trying to eat the chicken and cheese so they hatched a plan to get away from the farmer. they did it successfully and they ran away. yay happy ending my teacher actually liked that one me too and my school mates were thinking what they heck is this girl on i made a story about how me and justin bieber made cookies for Christmas you know. so then my other story i was more proud of this one cuz it was a tone of paper, sorry trees, and this story was about how a female hippo (girl i was all about plus size and thicker girls and no body shaming) and an male ostrich were kidnapped from their own habitats and taken to become circus animals. failed version of Madagascar hey mine was before the circus movie OK THEY STOLE IT FROM MEEEEE. so they get taken and are treated to harsh punishment and the animals can talk and i think its in the point of view of the male ostrich guy thing. they are in the circus and they start to have this relationship happening. love starts blossoming its all good. im happy with this cuz i believed in love at age of 8. they find a way thru a kick butt scene of the animals escaping and the hippo and ostrich are so in love that they run away together and they have half hippo half ostrich babies and i think i named the species  hipstrich or like ostppo idk but i was so proud of this story and when my teacher read it she was worried about me lol i think she thought i might like mate these two animals like secretly idk but she was like it was ok and i was like what this is frickin William Shakespeare writing or like F. Scott Fitzgerald writing. nevertheless it taught me a lesson that nobody else needs to like what im writing the main point and only thing that matters is if your proud of it and you like it and i really did. i will remember that story forever and thats what made me want to be a writer. lol sorry that was a lot. 

10. @emdop I’m going to use this great question: Explain one of your WIPs in the most ridiculous way possible. 

wellllll im working on my peaky blinders oc story its a lot of drugs money killing weapons jewelry rich profanities like its the show but written from my stubby hands so my oc and whatever its great and so excited to show it to you guys. 

MY QUESTIONS:

1. WHAT MADE YOU WANT TO START TUMBLR?

2. IF YOU COULD CHANGE ANYTHING OF THIS WORLD, WHAT WOULD IT BE?

3. WHAT QUALITY IS IMPORTANT TO YOU?

4. WHAT IS YOUR FAVORITE OUTFIT?

5. WHAT MAKES YOU SMILE?

6. WHAT IS YOUR FAVORITE SONG IN THE WHOLE WORLD?

7. IF YOU COULD VISIT A PLACE, WHERE WOULD IT BE?

8. WHAT SHOW OR MOVIE UNIVERSE WOULD YOU WANT TO BE IN?

9. WHAT IS THE SCARIEST MOMENT OF YOUR LIFE?

10. WHAT DO YOU WANT MORE IN THIS WORLD THAN ANYTHING ELSE?

im tagging: @thatlittlered, @ardentmuse, @acciosnapes, @lotsoffandomimagines, @collecting-stories, @blog-of-a-multitude-of-fandoms, @naughtyneganjdm, @lenahellgizibe and two random followers @spiritsent, @sucker-for-my-fandoms

i was tagged by @writing-with-melon again ty btw, ps i felt so much pressure lol jk 😊

Rules: Answer 5 questions, Ask 5 questions, Tag 5 people.

1. What is your favorite book?

fifty shades of grey hahaha naw my favorite book is obv you all know this is series of unfortunate events but i never usually cry period and i never cry for books ever so when i read mrs. tom thumb by melanie benjamin, its the part when her sister minnie dies i cried so hard idk it was just emotional the wording the way she described her pain it was so beautiful written yet so sad and that was just amazing to me cuz im like this book made me feel things and im like wow i would love to write a book one day and make someone feel something whether it be sadness anger happiness annoyance anything they are having an emotion and that is super powerful to do that with just words. pls go check out that book its a good read. also im a fan of the greatest showman so i really enjoyed it. there are many other books tho that i thoroughly enjoy so much. 

2. What piece that you’ve written are you most proud of?

oh my god ive always wanted to be asked this question hands down i am always proud of my platonic gender neutral tony stark fic called in·con·sol·a·ble window to me i wrote it so sad and i was feeling like depressed lol when i saw peter die in infinity war like i didnt know what to do with my life tbh but im so glad that @impetrichorny requested it tysm i just like how its not based on romance or fluff or happiness it is based on when you lose someone the nightmares and sadness you go through and that there is nothing nobody can do about it except just be there for that person so i really like writing angst and something that was out of the box. ive been thinking tho of doing a part two since the fate of all the characters has changed after endgame. who knows tho. 

3. What is the last song that inspired you? 

well for art it would have to good news by mac miller when i did that kobe bryant memorial on my art page. i dont want to give it away though but ill just say some very powerful womens music inspired my oc writing and making. 

4. How do you feel about letting people read what you write?

at first i was scared cuz i thought i wrote like trash which that feeling kinda doesnt go away like some days i feel that way others i feel confident or it depends on the request it just depends but anyways i was always insecure about my writing so when i started writing it was more like lets see how this goes if not ill delete the whole page. im glad to say it went great but in the begging it was hard cuz i kept putting myself down but i learned to accept or just understand that you keep learning with writing you always learn knew things with writing how you can explain something better or you words get more intricate and people see the improvement and you do too thats why i applaud those who dont speak english that english isnt their first language. you are doing a tremendous job and keep practicing cuz you’re gonna make it to the top. ive also learned that some days are not my days and you can take time off when youre not feeling it when you have writers block. just recollect your juices sip some tea go to the beach relax your mind a little and take as long as you need to come back and give it your all. also comments and reblogs and likes a follows those meant so much to me and encouraged me. thats why i cant express it enough how much all those mean to writers, artist, photographers, anybody who is truly trying their hard in this area of social media. its makes a person happy smile and confident in their writing but first train your mind into loving what you make not what others thing. you have to be happy with the outcome that is what truly matters and what makes your writing the best. look at me getting philosophical. 

5. Do you get distracted easily? If yes with what?

yes and with porn haha i get distracted easily like very easily homeschooling was really tough for me. music distracts me, netflix, the urge to watch david dobrik or unus annus or buzzfeed unsolved on youtube, heck my farts distract me. i gotta be like troy bolton i gotta get my HEAD IN THE GAME!

MY QUESTIONS:

1. IF YOU COULD BE NAMED SOMETHING ELSE, WHAT WOULD YOU BE NAMED?

2. WHAT PERSON INSPIRES YOU THE MOST?

3. IF YOU KNEW THE WORLD WAS ENDING TOMORROW WHAT WOULD YOU DO TODAY?

4. WHAT DO YOU OFTEN THINK ABOUT IN THE SHOWER?

5. WHATS YOUR WEIRD COMBINATION FOOD?

im tagging: @thatlittlered​, @ardentmuse​, @acciosnapes​, @lotsoffandomimagines​, @collecting-stories​ AND WHOEVER WANTS TO DO THIS IF YOU FOLLOW ME OR LIKE MY STORIES TAG ME ILL READ YOUR ANSWERS. HOPE I DID THIS RIGHT SORRY FOR TAKING SO LONG YOU GUYS ARE AMAZING MWUAH 

#ask #@writing-with-melon #rambles #writing #tips on writing #unus annus #david dobrik #netflix #buzzfeed unsolved #peaky blinders oc #kobe bryant #mac miller #tony stark #peter parker #the greatest showman #tom thumb #troy bolton #zac efron

[iknowthekoolaidflavor]

Guilt

Pairing: Rafa x Reader

Prompt: When a building up the street catches fires, two paths cross under difficult circumstances. A little angst, then fluff. Firefighter!au

Word Count: About 2k

A/N: Also, my first Rafa fic!

As soon as you saw the news that night, you knew it would be a long one. A building several blocks away had caught on fire. The reason was unknown, but for most of the night, residents of the building and firefighters were in and out of the hospital. After you finished with one patient, there was always another waiting.

When the last group came in, your team was split into smaller groups to lessen the load. It was four in the morning, you were exhausted, but you needed to check in on one more patient before you could get a nap.

The firefighter one you operated on earlier was still in bed, snoring softly. A piece of glass pierced his suit, puncturing his side, yet somehow it missed any major organs. You had to operate on his leg as well which was propped up on a pillow.

His two friends jumped up as soon as you entered.

“I’m Dr. (Y/L/N)”, you said shaking their hands

“I’m Rafa. This is Oak”

“Nice to meet you”

You started checking Daveed’s vitals, noticing how their eyes never left the two of you.

“The injuries he sustained from the fall aren’t as bad as they could be. His vitals are improving better than I expected”

Oak seemed relieved, Rafa, on the other hand, did not.

“How long will he have to stay here?”, Oak asked trying to defuse Rafa’s anxiety

“He has to stay overnight so we can keep an eye on him and at least two more as a precaution, but you guys can visit him as much as you want”

You smiled at Rafa and Oak, who seemed to relax at your statement.

“I can imagine it must be difficult seeing him like this, but I think he’ll pull through. I have very high hopes for Daveed”

“Is it alright for me to stay here?”, Rafa asked hesitantly

The entire time you were in the room, he never left Daveed’s side. To you, they seemed to be best friends or something more.

“Yes, let me know if you need anything”

“Is there anything else we need to know?”, Oak asked

“He’ll need to come back for physical therapy if he wants to return to work. I’ve already written a prescription for him”, you smiled softly as you hand the paper over to Oak

He slips it in his pocket, letting out a quiet thank you. Before you left, you noticed Rafa was still by Daveed’s side, face in his hands. He was mumbling to himself in an attempt to keep himself together. Oak sat by his side, just as he started to break down. You quietly left the room.

The entire night you were faced with many patients that would make full recoveries and a few  that would not. The latter always took a heavy toll on you. You knew Daveed had a high probability of making it through the night, but you had seen enough tears for one night. Emotionally, you were drained.

“Dr. (Y/L/N)”, someone yelled from behind you

As soon as you turned around, you were wrapped in a warm hug. You smelled the smoke from their clothing before you realized who it was. Rafa was shaking against you. He lost any ability to keep himself together. Several tears slipped down his cheek and on to your lab coat.

“Thank you”, he sobbed, “For everything”

You squeezed him as tight as you could. He buried his face against your shoulder, hiding his face from everyone that passed by.

“He’ll pull through, Rafa. You shouldn’t have anything to worry about”

“But I do”, he mumbled

He moved away from you wearing so many emotions at once. He was lost, upset, and scared. Rafa could no longer look you in the eyes.

“It’s my fault he’s...I should’ve…”

You grabbed his hand and he aimlessly followed. When you were in your office, you shut the door and sat him on the couch. You sat next to him, trying to console him.

“What happened?”

He never pulled his hand away because he needed some type of comfort, anything to get him through this.

“I should get back to--”

“Daveed will be fine. Oak is still there remember? And our team is still on the same floor”, you smiled reassuringly, “Tell me what happened”

“We thought everyone was out of the building, but a man couldn’t find his son. He was about to go in a burning building by himself. I know I did a full sweep of his apartment before I left and I didn’t see anyone else”

Rafa leaned back against the couch and threw his arm over his eyes.

“Daveed runs back inside to look again. He knew the integrity of the building was shotty, but he went in anyway. He found the kid hiding in someone else's apartment. Somehow, the kid made it out, but there was a blast and Daveed was still inside. We got to him before it started to collapse”

He sighed as more tears streamed down his cheeks. His shoulders began to shake as he tightened his grip on your hand.

“Rafa--”

“Don’t say it”

“Why? Because it’s true? It wasn’t your fault. None of this is. No one could have known he would be in someone else’s apartment”

“I know, but even if Daveed didn’t go in, someone’s child would have died and that would still be on me”, he groaned

“When we’re presented with tough decisions or struggling to deal with the aftermath of our decisions, my boss always tells us to weigh out the pros and cons. I would say a pretty big pro is someone’s child is still alive tonight”

“True, but a pretty big con is that Daveed is in the hospital”

“Daveed can return to work good as new in a few months”

“I feel guilty. Is that a con?”, Rafa sighed

“That’s expected. I would argue that it shouldn’t, but then again, I’m not a firefighter. It’s easy to feel guilt in most situations, especially when you can’t control the outcome, but how do you manage it? Will you wallow in it or do something to prevent it from happening again?”

You watched Rafa relax into the couch. He loosened his grip a little. The stress he felt dwindled little by little. He had to believe that Daveed would be alright. Everyone made it out the building, some were injured, but no one died. That was supposed to be a win, yet he still felt like there was a slight weight on his chest.

“You sure you’re not a therapist or something?”

“I’m sure”, you laughed, “I majored in psychology for undergrad”

Rafa smiled at hearing your laugh. You could tell he needed to get his mind off of everything.

“You want to get something to eat from the cafeteria? We can eat outside”

Rafa followed you outside. The conversation flowed effortlessly. He noticed your soft smile when you mentioned your family or how excited you were when he mentioned that he loves the same shows you do.

Your shift ended an hour ago and Rafa was beginning to yawn. You decided to walk him back to Daveed’s room before you left. He felt at ease for once. Rafa knew he wanted to see you again but not just because you talked him down when he felt like he was losing his mind, you shared the same interests, and he wanted to see your smile again. He felt corny just thinking about it, yet he knew it was the truth.

“Thank you for everything”, he chirped as you stepped in the room

Oak had fallen asleep in one of the chairs an hour ago. He kept an eye on Daveed while Rafa was away.  

“It’s my job”

“I mean for helping me. I wasn’t sure I would make it through the night and somehow you’ve made it bearable”

“You can stop by when you want”, you grinned

Rafa grinned back, “Daveed still has to go to physical therapy, right? What kind of friend would I be if I made him go through this on his own?”

“I’ll see you tomorrow then”

“I hope so”

You left the room, ready to crawl in your bed. There was a big chance you would have a certain man on your mind before you drifted off to sleep.

After you left, Oak cracked open one eye, “Did you at least get her number?”

Rafa jumped at his voice, “Were you eavesdropping?”

“You saw me when you walked in. Of course I was listening”

“I’ll ask for it tomorrow”

“If you’re going to see her so soon, at least go back to the station and shower. You wreak”

“I don’t want to leave until he wakes”, he said as watched Daveed sleep

“I’ll bring your stuff after I get some sleep”

Rafa was in a deep sleep when he felt something hit his face. This time it hit his nose. Then his cheek.

“What the--”, he cursed

When he opened his eyes, Daveed smirked at him as he balled up another piece of paper.

“Took you long enough”, he smiled, “Shouldn’t you be resting?”

“I was until you started throwin’ shit”

“I mean at home”

“Decided to stay here. No big deal”

“Awww”, Daveed grinned, “You care about me”

“Shut. Up. Don’t we need to call the nurse or something?”

“They already came in. I told them not to wake you”

“Has the doctor come by already?”, he tried to ask without suspicion

Daveed quirked a brow before asking, “You mean the one you’ve been drooling over since you got here? No, she hasn’t stopped by, but I have some things I need to say to her. First of all, she can do better”

They both burst into a fit of laughs.

“You better not”

“I have physical therapy. I have all the time in the world to tell her about you leaving your socks all around your apartment or the fact that you always drink the last bit of milk, then leave the carton in the fridge”

“It’s there for a reminder”

“That’s actually pretty gross”, Rafa heard from behind him

Rafa jumped and spun around. Daveed did little to contain his amusement. You were standing right behind Rafa, looking and feeling more refreshed than you did before.

“Dr. (Y/L/N)”, he beamed, “You look...well”

Daveed let out an exasperated sigh, feeling second hand embarrassment for his best friend.

“Thank you. So do you”

There was a moment of silence before you directed all your attention to Daveed.

“How are you feeling?”, you asked as you checked his vitals, “You’re blood pressure and heart rate are still the same, which is good”

“My side is starting to hurt”

You saw that his IV had run out, which was probably the reason why he was in pain.

“I’ll have the nurse come in and give you a refill. Can you move your toes?”

You moved his blankets from his feet and watched as he concentrated. All of his toes were moving except for his pinky toes.

“This is promising. Only your pinky toes didn’t move. Looking good Daveed”

He smiled brightly as you called in a nurse to give him his medication.

Within a few minutes he began to yawn. He was beginning to sink into the bed, trying to blink his eyes to stay awake.

“I’ll still be here when you wake up”, Rafa reassured him

“Good”, he yawned, “Now ask her out...before it’s too late”

Rafa’s eyes widened as his friend dozed off.

“He likes to...Daveed just…”

“I might have a break coming up soon. We can get lunch or something”

“I’d like that”, Rafa agreed

“You wait here and I’ll be back later to check on my favorite patient”

“You’re favorite patient”, he chuckled, “Oh hell no. Let me tell you about your favorite patient. First of all, he’s an ass”

You burst out laughing as Rafa ticked off all the things that annoyed him about his best friend. You had a feeling you would find out more about Daveed than you should if you let him continue.

You quickly pressed a kiss into his cheek, knowing he would grow silent.

“I’ll be back later to check on my favorite firefighter”

Rafa allowed the dreamy grin to spread across his face as he sat down. All he could do was wave as you left him in the room.

#rafael casal x reader #firefighter!au #Rafael Casal #rafael x reader #rafa x reader

[fourthwingingit]

Two

Edit: tumblr didnt post my edits from my original post (like you know when you save something as a draft and go oh wait there are some errors like no header and awkward phrasing lemme fix them) so im gonna repost this eventually but ¯\_(ツ)_/¯

Edit 2: tumblr sucks and never lets me put the thing so... This is for the anon who requested a fic of touch starved clark and conner with the prompts 'nobodys ever done that to me before' and 'i just want to be held' sorry it got angstier then i ment it to.... hope you like hurt comfort

Clark hovered awkwardly outside the door to conners room. He was nervous about seeing the teen with everything between them and what he wanted to ask him.

He took a breath. Conner almost certainly knew he was there already. But that didnt matter.

Ma always said that manners matter

He knocked.

From inside came a muffled, annoyed, and clipped

"What is it clark?"

Taking that as the best invitation he was going to get he opened the door and went in.

He looked at conner. The kid was on his bed, facedown on top of the covers like an angsty teen in a movie.

Clark thought he looked too small for the position he was in. Like he was waiting for some blow that was going to take a part of him with it to land... or like it already had and he was cradling a hole

Clark shook off the disturbing thought and steeled himself. He swiftly walked to Conner's bedside, and said, eloquently,

"Well. I... you see...... uh... lois- i mean to say..... uhh"

Lord this was already going to hell in a handbasket.

Conner turned his head enough to raise one eyebrow

"What the hell was that?"

He sat down a respectful distance away (as far away as he could) and tried again

"Hmm... you see i uhh- hmm you know how uhh.... things umm. Sometimes.... uhh"

Conner slowly turned his head the rest of the way to clark, confusion now written in every line in his body. great.

Clarks back bowed fast. Like his head gained 20 pounds in a half a second, his arms planted themselves on his knees and he gave up trying... he'd try again some other day. Maybe tomorrow. Or maybe lois should do it.... Kal-el you coward.

"I... i dont know, ive got nothing."

But now he was scrambling, he needed a reason for being here. And what came out was;

"Ma told me shes uhh, seen you acting in a... less than..... ideal...... kind of.... way.?"

"Wow."

"No yeah i heard it"

"That was some next level awkward," and there was some distinct venom in that voice shoot. "if its that hard to be around me then you can find the door. I certainly dont need your pity handouts anyway."

Well.... shit

"No thats not.... im.... i wanted to ask- uh... whats been bothering you..... sport."

He now had what bruces kids called The Awkward White Man Smile... great.

Suprisingly, Conner chuckled.

Maybe a small part of Clark's brain said its not hopeless?

"Right now? Your social skills."

Banter! He hung around batman! He could do banter.

"Aww man and here i was thinking i was handing out winning lines."

"Oh no, youve gone senile a little early, well... maybe not early... good thing you've got Kara."

There was a small smirk playing at conners lips and an actual opportunity. God was real and he loved Clark Kent.

"At least I know I have two good boys to pick me up after im down." He looked away fast.

Silence stretched on

.......

Awkwardly

Oh lord he messed up the moment

He presumed too much and their only friendly interaction in over a month is ruined

"Two?"

The voice Conner used was so painfully soft and small. Like it didnt dare to hope anymore and had stopped trying a long time ago.

Clark never was good at leaving voices like that alone. And he was always more comfortable when something needed doing anyways.

Superman courage steadied him enough to take a risk.

He reached out his hand, and ruffled Conner's hair, trailing his fingers down after to rest on the shoulder closest to him and said.

"I have two kids dont i?"

More silence

Conner was frozen beneath his fingertips

He panicked

Oh god

He had fucked it up

He had fucked up enough times that conner didn't want anything to do with him

Okay damage control

"That is...." Conner stiffened further "if i haven't been so horrible to my eldist that he doesnt want anything to do with me"

The silence was now so deep he could hear the dust motes brushing against everything

He heard a tiny sniffle

And then he telltale sound of tears hitting bedsheets.

His head whipped around, his glasses flew off somewhere into the room. He barely noticed.

Shocked, he started to speak but Conner cut him off before he could finish the first syllable.

"You know when i was in Hawaii i used to watch families. Specifically parents and children. I'd be so jealous of-"

Conner cut himself off.

"Nobody's ever- i mean...... parents do that to their kids.... the hair touching thing.... Nobody's ever-" his voice broke, he cleared it. "Nobody's ever even tried to touch my hair if we werent kissing."

He gave a pitiful, watery laugh and, after a breif, stunned, pause, started rambling about how "of course i get it cut, like, the barber touches it and stuff..."

And it all hit clark.

Somehow it had never occured to Clark, that even though Conner looked like he was so much older than Jon, he wasnt.

He wondered who raised him

Who fed him

Who hugged him through nightmares

Clarks heart broke

Because he was certain the answer to most of those kinds of questions was 'Conner' and none of them were "Kal-el" or "Clark Kent"

Clark turned a bit and ran his hand over Conner's back softly, cutting off his rambling and said in a voice that was somehoe warm but still felt guilty and mourning;

"What do you want? What can I do?"

Conner was stunned. Kal had never given him anything like this. So he kept talking to give his brain time to catch up.

"I don.... i- i used to watch families... in- in Hawaii, and I'd get jealous of the kids, that they got to have families. Got to have parents. I dont..."

Clark turned a little to properly face his son and grabbed his hand.

"What can i do Conner?"

One day ago Conner would have asked for a lot. To never see Kal again, the superman title, his spot in the JL, even some time with Jon. But now?

Conner shifted, he sat up as best he could. And guided Kals hand to the side of his face, through tear tracks, held it there for a second, and then slid it into his hair. All thr while leaning into it like it was the only support he needed.

"I just want to be held.... without expectations..... without titles or rules or anything in return."

Connor wouldnt meet his eyes, or look up from the bedspread during his request.

For the second time that day Clark's heart broke. But now he had something he could do.

He reached out with his other hand, guiding his son into his arms, and gently layed them down

He kept one hand on the back of Conner's head, stroking the strands there. And one hand on Conner's back slowly moving back and forth.

From the first point of contact, Conner's world narrowed to the hand Kal had put on him. And now, there was more. Now he was allowed to reach out. He wanted to get closer. To bury his face in Kals chest and curl up small. To let the world fall away around them. Until nothing existed but them. Holding each other forever.

Kal seemed to read his mind, and guided his head to tuck itself under his chin and pressed them closer together.

No promises, no strings, no obligations after.

He could leave whenever he wanted.

He wanted to stay forever.

Conner wondered breifly what was like to be held by a father. If it felt as nice as this. Like everything crashed in on him, but it was okay.

Maybe, he thought.

They had a maybe.

And this maybe was a lot of ground to stand on.

#kal el #clark kent #kon el #conner kent #father son #familial bonds #hurt comfort #cuddling & snuggling #platonic cuddling #fic #dc #superman #superboy #my fic #for anon #my writing

[magioftheseas]

Day 1 - Reserve

Written for @the-hinata-project 

Prompt: Reserve Course Student Hinata

Rating: G

Warnings: Lowkey manipulation and insecurity, but other than that, not much.

Notes: Alright, so I’m still in the middle of these, but like... Here’s the first one! They’re all going to be pretty short, around 2K but I’m gonna do my best to finish all of them so wish me luck...! And this first fic is gen. No ships. Next ones won’t be so gen. It’s also pre-HPA. Kind of.

***Alternate Ao3 Link***

Commission? Donate?

The last wish he made on New Year’s was a simple one.

I want to get into Hope’s Peak.

But of course that  would never happen.

“Can’t you dream more realistically, Hajime? Do you have any idea how expensive Hope’s Peak actually is? We can’t afford that.”

“I... I know that, but...”

“If you know then why are you burdening us with this? Please. Just think about other people besides yourself for once.”

“...sorry.”

His mother sighs, but ruffles his hair in a show of affection.

“You current high school isn’t so bad, right? You can make good friends here, and it’s a fine school.”

“I guess it’s...decent,” he mumbles.

“Just don’t even worry about Hope’s Peak anymore,” she tells him. “It’s impossible, and it can’t be helped. Keep your chin up. Okay?”

“...fine...”

Because he knew, after all, that she had a point. They couldn’t afford it. And he wasn’t talented. It was a pipe dream to attend. Nothing more. Nothing less.

Still...

--

For his birthday, he was given a new laptop to replace the old. It was a fairly recent model. Pretty expensive. Likely compensation. He can’t say he didn’t like it.

He wasn’t ungrateful. He doesn’t think so.

It’s just that I admire Hope’s Peak more than anything.

So much so that he finds himself on the forums first thing.

>Does anyone have any idea who’s going to be in the upcoming batch?

>They haven’t finished scouting, right? Oh, but I just saw on the news that an actual princess was accepted! Hope’s Peak really can get in anyone!

>Wow, actual royalty?!

>There’s this photographer I follow. She’s getting in, too, I’m pretty sure.

>I just saw Saionji Hiyoko-san’s performance last week. I’m positive she’s getting in.

>I’m more interested in the princess. Can you imagine how lucky it would be to meet an actual princess?

>>They’ll be running the lottery in a month or so. What I would give to have more of a chance...

>Wow, they’re doing that again?

>With how much getting into the reserve course costs, you probably have a better chance with the lottery...

>But if you win the lottery, you’re actually considered talented. Reserves are just...y’know, reserves.

>But you’ll get to meet the princess, potentially. I think the money’s worth it, even if all I can do is steal a glance!

>Still... Seems so lame that you can just pay your way in...

>But brand name recognition is pretty powerful...

>>I heard you can actually get into the main course from the reserve course if you do well enough.

>No way! That’s a pipe dream! Maybe if you paid like, twice as much!

>Must be nice to be rich, huh...

Hinata stares, wondering what to type, but also letting the thoughts swirl around in his head.

>>I would do anything to get into Hope’s Peak. But my family just can’t afford that.

>Yeah, mine neither. Who actually can?

>You’d be surprised... They’re getting a lot of enrollments.

>You can’t like...get a scholarship or anything? It’s not like you need to go to college after attending Hope’s Peak.

>Well the golden gates can’t open that wide, I suppose...

>It’s for the best. If just about anyone could get in, it wouldn’t be that special.

Hinata bites his lip, picking at the peeling skin with his teeth.

>>Still. I want to get in more than anything.

>If you aren’t talented, it can’t be helped.

>>I would give anything.

>Pffft. No kidding. I’d give an arm and a leg, probably.

>>I would give anything.

>A lot of people would.

>You’re like a super fan, huh. Well, I am, too, but still...

>>Getting into Hope’s Peak has always been my dream.

>Everyone wants to be special, man.

>But if everyone was special then no one would be special.

>It can’t be helped. You’re either born talented or you aren’t.

>Right?! I must have spent hours drawing but there was always that one person I could just never compare to. It’s hopeless!

>You shouldn’t say hopeless on the Hope’s Peak forums!

>Haha, sorry!

>>I’ve never been talented. There’s not one thing I’m particularly good at.

>Normie...

>>But I want to get into Hope’s Peak Academy... More than anything.

>Give it up. For your own good. Wishing for the impossible isn’t healthy.

>Hey, don’t tell him that! What if he ends up winning the lottery?

>Yeah, right!

>>I’m not particularly lucky, either.

>Luck’s not a talent anyway.

>Are you sure? I’ve known people who get ridiculously lucky while gambling...

>If they gamble too much, that luck’s bound to run out. And I bet they’re not that lucky, they just brag a lot.

>That might be true... Still it would be nice just to get into Hope’s Peak by chance...

>Whoever wins that lottery probably is ridiculously lucky considering how many people are participating. We’re talking like, every high school student in their first year in the country.

>Sucks to be other countries, huh.

>Maybe someday but for now, I like not having that much competition.

>Still a ridiculous amount competing...

>I bet it’ll be someone who can afford the reserve course if they haven’t already enrolled.

>No fair! That kind of thing should disqualify you immediately!

>>I just...want to get in...

>Yeah we all do. But it’s impossible.

>Impossible.

>Totally impossible.

>Pigs will fly first.

>I heard some Ultimates actually can make some crazy shit. We might see flying pigs pretty soon.

>That’s terrifying.

>>I just want to get in.

>You should get offline.

He should. He really, really should.

Is it really impossible?

“Of course it is,” he can practically hear them murmur. “Not only are you untalented, you can’t afford it! And you’re going to win the lottery, either!”

Hinata buries his face into his hands, shuddering.

I just... I just...

--

To his surprise, he later receives a DM. Shivering, he clicks it open.

>Would you really do anything for Hope’s Peak?

He doesn’t recognize the name of the sender but...it looks official.

>>Yes. Of course. Why?

>There actually is a program you can sign up for that will get you in without having to pay a coin.

Hinata blinked once. Twice.

It’s way too good to be true.

But he’s desperate. Beyond desperate.

>>What is this program? How can I sign up?

>Here’s the information.

--

What he’s about to do is how people get themselves abducted, he’s pretty sure. But right now, he’s desperate and... If it really was someone associated with Hope’s Peak, how bad can it be? What’s the worse than can happen?

I already have no chance getting in. I know that... But...

His heart was pounding as he took the train. He stared out the window, at HPA’s towering buildings in the distance, getting closer and closer, and he sucks in his breath.

It’s so shining that it hurts to look at.

Shining like a dream...

--

“Ah, Hinata-kun, you made it after all. So you have the necessary information?”

“Uh... Yes...” Truth be told, he didn’t understand most of it. There were a lot of words that were hard to read and pretty...advanced. “I just...well you said you couldn’t explain everything in just files, so...”

The other looked pretty professional. Sharply dressed and smiling in a way that at least seemed pretty welcoming. But...still pretty intimidating, considering the circumstances. Hinata ducked his head, feeling rather flustered.

“Yes, it’s meant to be kept very tightly under wraps, you see,” they laugh. “I need to assure confidentiality before explaining, Hinata-kun. Surely you understand.”

That’s...weird.

But it made his blood thrum with excitement to be a part of.

“I... Y-Yes, of course. Absolutely... Of course...”

“Sign this form, then, promising that.”

“O-Of course...!”

He scribbles down his signature without a second thought. The other smiled more, pleased. Hinata squirmed in his seat, and tried to keep his posture straight.

With that, the other sat across from him, polite and yet...expectant.

Ah... Hah...

“So you’re willing to do anything for this school,” they say, voice almost light but also dense with significance. “Might I ask why?”

“It’s...as I said on the forums,” Hinata mumbles, fiddling with his tie. Even dressed professionally for this would-be interview, he feels underdressed. “I’ve always admired this school. Always. It’s always been my dream to...to go there...”

The other nods, expression unchanged.

“And why do you wish so badly to go there, despite not having a talent that can be cultivated?”

Hinata flinched.

“T-That’s...! I...” He hesitates, but he soon finds the words just spilling out. “I just want to be someone I can be proud of. Someone who can stand tall. Be confident. Be significant. Isn’t that what I deserve?”

“Isn’t that what everyone deserves?”

Hinata’s nails dig into his palms.

“I admire Hope’s Peak...more than anyone. I will give whatever I can...and then more than that...if I have to.” His teeth grit. “Whatever it takes... W-Whatever it takes...!”

Even though I know it’s selfish and impossible, I just...!

He just wanted to be someone. Someone other than...this.

Unimportant. Unremarkable. A faceless, meaningless part of the mass. The idea of being consumed by mediocrity and insignificance for the rest of his life, never to matter, never to even be remembered, just to disappear, just like he never even existed—

“I’ll do...w-whatever...it takes...” He’s shaking, eyes wide and crazed. “Whatever it takes... Whatever I can...and then more than that...if I have to.”

“Ah. I see.” An easy smile. And yet, the atmosphere felt so heavy that it was near suffocating. “Very well then, Hinata-kun. That’s exactly the kind of attitude we’re looking for.”

Hinata lit up.

“R-Really?” He dares to let hope slip into his tone. “D-Do you really mean it?”

A nod.

“Hinata-kun... If you could be reborn from the faceless body of a miserable nobody into the world’s hope... Would you?”

“That...sounds too good to be true...” His heart really was racing, but he was flushed with excitement. “But... Y-Yeah... I... Of course...”

“Then, allow me to tell you about how that can be possible. If you agree, you’ll be accepted into the school, free of charge, no talent necessary. In fact, it’s even essential that you be talentless.”

I...don’t understand.

He doesn’t understand but it just sounds so incredible that he can’t help but be swayed.

“...tell me.”

“Very well.”

A folder of files is placed before him. They look too important to grasp. And the stamped out letters of CONFIDENTIAL stare back into his wide-eyed, shimmering gaze.

Fingers trembling, Hinata actually slices his finger open as he flips it open.

He doesn’t even feel the sting, as engrossed as he is in the text.

“I...”

The words swirl around in his head, over and over until he drowns in them.

“Do you need time to think about it?” the other asks him kindly. So kindly that Hinata is struck cold. “Tell you what... You can still get into the reserve course. You don’t have to say yes right away, and the deadline will be in a few months from now. You can attend classes here until then...and then make your decision on whether or not you’re willing to stay. Okay?”

“I... O-Okay.” Hinata swallows. “That’s... I’m okay with that.”

I said I’d do anything. And I do...want to do anything. But...

His hands are shaking while still gripping the files.

I can’t...let this chance slip by...even if it’s something like this. This is everything I ever wanted. Why am I even hesitating?

“It’s alright,” the other says reassuringly, taking the files away with ease. “Hinata-kun, I know you’ll make the best decision for yourself.”

For...myself. Myself...

“I...yes.”

“I’ll have them send in your acceptance letter and uniform.” His hand is shook, the grip warm and calloused. “It was a pleasure meeting you, Hinata-kun.”

“A-A pleasure... Yeah.”

Just like that, Hinata was stumbling out of Hope’s Peak, trembling and falling to pieces with every shaky step.

I have to do it, he can’t help but think. I have to do it, for...for myself...

This was going to be the year his life changed irreparably. He was sure of it.

#thehinataproject #hajime hinata #hinata hajime #Magi fics #the hinata project #although it's not going to show up #I might as well #I'll probably have to message someone anyway #The tragedy of being muted

[antihero-writings]

The Things We Say Aloud—Pandora Hearts Fic for Phmonth18 Rainsworth Trio Week—Prompt 2: Family (Full Fic)

Fic Title: The Things We Say Aloud

Fic Synopsis: The Rainsworth Trio has a tradition of midnight snowball fights. But what if this is Break’s last?

Notes: This is another fic I wrote last Christmas (for the prompt “Rain”), but I think will work well for Phmonth18. I think it works best for the Rainsworth Trio Prompt 2: Family. You don’t have to have read the previous Christmas fic to understand it, but they are supposed to take place in the same year, and there are a few connections/references between them. (The other one is called “In Plain Sight” and you can read it on this blog, and/or at I_prefer_the_term_antihero ‘s Ao3!)

Out of all the PH fics I’ve written so far, this is honestly probably my favorite. I would deeply appreciate it if you commented to let me know you enjoyed it!

I feel like the Rainsworth Trio–especially Sharon and Break–don’t really talk about Break’s death, even though they know it’s coming. I thought it would be interesting to explore how such a conversation would go, and almost made myself cry writing it!

Also, point of interest, a song that I think works really well for the section of this fic where Break is pondering if it will be his last Christmas is “Into the Open Air” from the Brave soundtrack.

P.S. This is a repost of an old fic!

Fic:

Rain pounded its tune on the roof. It was the kind of rain that swarms the air, making it misty, grey, and cold with the buzzing of a thousand tiny drops.

It wasn’t that he disliked the rain. There will always be something about the rain that’s soothing to people dealing with sorrow. But rain like this; that pounds, and pounds, and doesn’t dissipate, sometimes serves to extend the mistiness inside too. Though it could be a rest, a relief, people like him always pray for the sun to come back. For sunny days and summer light were something people like him, with red eyes, and a past full of sin, knew they didn’t deserve, but couldn’t help seeking all the same.

Xerxes Break walked through the hallway of the Rainsworth manor. He wore his turquoise and gold outfit, half of his white hair falling across his shoulder, the other, shorter side, messily added to the covering the bandages provided—bandages over the place where his left eye should have been, though it rarely bled anymore.

As he passed by one of the rooms, he saw Sharon. She looked so small, but so regal, sitting on the windowsill, with her back to the glass, now frosted with condensation. Her chestnut hair was pulled back with a ribbon, and she was wearing her little pink dress. The little girl was pouting, staring at the ground, her arms folded over her chest in the characteristic expression children wear when they don’t get their way.

He paused, resting his hand on the doorframe.

She lifted her head.

When she met his eyes, he remembered very quickly that was not in his skill set to comfort little girls.

When he glanced back, she was giving him a look that said Well? Aren’t you going to come comfort me?

He knew better than to disobey such a look. He took a deep breath and walked in, hopping up on the windowsill next to her.

Like the rain, it wasn’t that he disliked kids, he just didn’t know how to deal with them. When they cried and threw tantrums…in short, he didn’t know how to deal with emotion (well, strong ones anyways). He couldn’t help hoping that kids like her could stay happy, and innocent forever. Like he had hoped for his young mistress from another time, and seen it go so very wrong, then later heard, through his own interference, that he had made it go far worse. But children would have to get hurt, they would have to grow up, some day. And in turn, they would become the kinds of creatures who hurt, and caused pain, who even killed, and made excuses for it…creatures like himself.

Luckily, he found that Sharon was a much happier, much kinder, much stronger child than most.

When she didn’t speak—(he didn’t dare ask, for fear of making it worse)—he turned to look outside the window.

“Xerx-niisan,” she began at last, “Why is the sky crying?”

He turned back to her, raising an eyebrow. “Huh?”

They weren’t siblings; they weren’t even remotely related. But for some reason, the name fixed itself in her mouth, and nothing he did or said could change that.

She could be a little tyrant sometimes.

At his misunderstanding, she continued to pout, averting her eyes. Then she jerked back to look at him, (he flinched a little), and said in a high pitched voice, “It’s almost Christmas! Why is it raining? It should be snowing!”

“Oh,” he relaxed a little, contemplating his response, “Well…it’s not going to stop raining just because you want it to. Sometimes,” he gave a sardonic smile that was more painful than the frown that seemed fixed on his face, looking away into the rain, as if he would find answers reading the drops, “things…people…that should be happy, just can’t be. And no matter how much you want something…”

He trailed off, and when he turned back, he saw tears welling in her eyes.

Nice going, Xerxes, you barely have to open your mouth to make a little girl cry.

There they were, brimming to the surface: all those emotions he didn’t know what to do with. He could only sit there, waiting for her own brand of rain to start, wanting more than anything to escape, to not have to figure out the right words to fix her.

It was the crying he hated the most. Maybe it was because it reminded him too much of a certain day, long ago, of a certain girl…but the snow did fall that day…

Still, he wasn’t going to tell her that if she just wished hard enough, if she believed in hope, the-general-goodness-of-the-world-and-its-inhabitants, and maybe a little bit of magic, that the snow would fall, that she could change things. Wishes were dangerous things, and he didn’t suggest anyone make them. You never know who, or what, might be listening.

Fortunately, before the tears reached her cheeks, Sharon’s mother, Shelly Rainsworth, appeared at the doorway. She looked almost exactly like an older version of her daughter, the same chestnut hair, the same smile that shined with a light of its own.

Upon seeing the tearful look on her daughter’s face, she marched into the room, put her hands on her hips, and turned to Break.

“Xerxes,” she said his name like he really was Sharon’s brother, “what did you say to her?”

“Why do you assume it was my fault, Shelly-sama?” he muttered, sounding like the child she was calling out.

“Let’s just say you have a habit of stepping on people’s feelings.”

He sighed. “I was only telling her that it won’t start snowing simply because she wants it to.”

“It’s almost Christmas, mother!” Sharon said like she was pleading her case, the tears reappearing in her eyes.

Shelly smiled, shaking her head.

“What am I going to do with you two?” she crouched down in front of Sharon, and paused, contemplating her own question for a moment. “Tell you what, sweetie; I can’t promise it’ll start snowing because you want it to, but I can promise this:” she pushed her daughter’s tears away, “The moment it starts snowing—or, I suppose,” she interrupted herself, “the moment there’s enough snow on the ground, but no later!—we’ll go outside, and have a snowball fight. How does that sound?”

“Really?” Sharon raised her head, the sadness lifting a little.

“Even if I’m busy, or it starts snowing in the middle of the night,” Shelly elaborated, grinning, “No, especially, if it’s in the middle of the night,” she placed a finger on Sharon’s nose, at which the little girl giggled, “I’ll wake you up—or you me—then, while everyone else is asleep, we’ll run around the house in just our pajamas and coats, we’ll wake Xerxes—”

“What?!” Break blurted out.

“Yes, we’ll wake Xerxes,” she repeated smirking, “drag him outside—”

“Do I get a say in this?!”

“Nope,” she grinned mischievously, “Don’t think I’m letting you get out of this one.”

“Tch.” He looked away.

She walked calmly to the couch, picked up one of the pillows, as if she was going to fluff it, brought it over to them, and smacked him with it.

He growled, his red eye starting to blaze, like some caged beast.

She threw the pillow back onto the couch, sighing, saying seriously, “I don’t want you sitting here on this windowsill forever…I know, somewhere inside you, there’s someone…” she pondered it, then smiled, saying simply, “Someone who’s not afraid. You’re stronger than you think. Deep down, I think, these sorts of things that seem childish, like snowball fights, and tea-parties,” she smirked, “fun things, you actually enjoy.”

He looked away, as if knowing he could only disappoint her.

She added softly, placing a finger on his chin, making him look at her,

“We’ll see that smile someday, Xerxes Break.”

He stared at her as she took her fingers away, then he blinked, averting his eyes again. murmuring something about, “Really, Shelly-sama…I’d just ruin—”

“Sharon,” Shelly interrupted his mutterings, turning to her daughter, “Do you think Xerxes should sit here sulking, day in and day out, or do you think he should join our snowball fight?”

“Xerx-niisan should come with us!” she didn’t even take a breath before she answered.

He stared into the little girl’s eyes, so full of hope, no question, no hesitation, just…kindness, endless kindness.

Shelly smiled at her daughter, which turned into devious smirk when she looked at him.

“Checkmate.”

He bit his lip before jumping back down to the ground, muttering incoherently his displeasure, knowing once they were set, he couldn’t change their minds.

They could be tyrants sometimes.

Most people wouldn’t have gone near him, much less want him to be a part of something…well, fun. He knew what people said about him. It didn’t matter, it had been a long time since he had cared what other people thought, plus, he more than welcomed the lack of company. But, the thing is, he knew they were right; he was creepy, and dark, and very, very dangerous. So, he too, often wondered why they had taken him in, why they treated him like something worth saving, worth dragging out of bed for snowball fights, and tea-parties, rather than being sure, like rest of the world was—like he was—that he would just darken everything with any amount of light in it.

That’s what Children of Misfortune were for, right?

A little girl, who should have been more scared of him than anyone, who should’ve wanted him as far away from her and her snowball fights than anyone, could not only go near him, but fail to hesitate as she bounded up to this dark-and-dangerous man, looked into that blood-red eye, and asked him why the sky was crying, gave him flowers, and called him “brother.”

And that was worth more to him than he would ever dare admit aloud.

*****

It was from nightmares about knights, and blood, little girls, dolls, and names that he never mentioned, that Xerxes Break awoke from.

Breath and heartbeat weighed heavily on his chest. Once the memories faded enough for him to remember that, though it may have been real, it was not now, he gritted his teeth together, slamming his fist into the wall behind him. He didn’t care how much pain was pulsating through his hand.

If only it would take his mind off the throbbing in his empty eye socket.

If he had been a weaker man, perhaps he would have screamed, even cried, perhaps he would have whispered something pitifully to the sheets about not wanting to remember again, not wanting nightmares like this one to show their faces in his head. But he had already made a wish, and these nightmares were its descendants. He didn’t have the authority to dream anymore.

All he had was the anger and regret surging through his body, and nowhere for it to go, except make his past a weapon that shattered him just as much as it did his enemies, into glass shards, and cold bones, and bloodstained roles.

Still, there was some part of him that hoped after so many years they would have stopped haunting him. And sure, maybe it wasn’t every night, but they did come. Perhaps that’s why they call them ghosts; There were too many horrors to be reminded of, too many sins to feel guilty for, too little he could do to fix it, and the nightmares were all too eager for the task. One lifetime was not enough for them to let him forget.

They say ‘there’s no rest for the wicked’, and his mind was often cruel enough to remind him.

When he raised his gaze, he saw that the curtain was open just slightly, and something in the sliver of window flickered.

The Mad Hatter sighed, throwing his legs over the side of the bed.

It was awfully cold.

He stepped up to the window, gently pulling back the curtain, just enough so he could see.

He drew in a breath softly, his eye widening at the view:

It was snowing.

There was enough moonlight to see flakes falling upon the grounds—which were cloaked in white by now.

Like that time years ago, for the whole month, the only thing that fell from the clouds was rain, and finally, the sky decided that Christmas Eve was no time to be laying in bed, sleeping, or else dreaming about past follies.

“Well, Shelly-sama, what do you think?” he spoke softly to the merciful sky, “One last snowball fight?” he paused a moment, turning, leaning against the window, as if waiting for an answer to be whispered in his ear.

He stepped over to his wardrobe, throwing a coat over his pajamas, taking up some winter gloves, putting on socks and boots, and, as always, placing Emily on his shoulder (she wouldn’t want to miss this).

Lighting the candelabra on his nightstand, he ventured into the hallway, making his way toward Sharon’s bedroom.

Opening the door as quietly as he could, he walked in, setting the light on her nightstand.

Sharon was sleeping soundly on her curtained bed, her hair splayed all over the sheets, wrinkled in the night’s sleep, and she hugged her pillow.

He resisted the urge to laugh at her un-proper appearance.

Break sat on the side of her bed, by her head, saying quietly,

“Ojousama.”

She stirred in her sleep, muttering something indecipherable.

He gently ran his hand through her hair, saying louder, “Sharon.”

She blinked open fuchsia eyes to see her servant.

“Break,” she muttered his name softly.

Slowly, she sat up, yawning, looking around.

“Break, what’re you…?” she began, fatigue weighing down her words, then shook it away by shaking her head, “What are you doing in my room?! In the middle of the night! How dare you wake me up!”

He knew what was coming next: she grabbed one of the pillows, and he dodged it before she hit him with it. “Do you think you can just come in here as you please?!”

“Really, Ojousama,” he laughed, standing back up, “You think I’d risk injury without good reason?”

She folded her arms over her chest, pouting. He walked over to the window, throwing open the curtain, standing beside it.

“This better not be one of your pranks, Break,” she muttered, walking over to the window.

“Relax. When have I ever been that cruel?”

She glared at him, as if to say I-could-name-a-few-times, then turned to the window, surveying the landscape outside.

Her aggravated expression broke for widened eyes and a smile.

“Break!” she exclaimed, all grievance forgotten, grabbing his hands and spinning him around, “It’s snowing!!” she let go of him, and jumped up on the bed, repeating, “It’s snowing!! It’s snowing!!”

He smirked, folding his arms over his chest; No matter how old she really was, she still looked like that little kid to him.

“What do you say?” he helped her down from the bed, “One last snowball fight?”

“What are you talking about ‘one last’?” she grabbed the pillow and managed to catch him off guard this time. “You better not be talking about that again!”

She didn’t wait for him to respond as she dropped the pillow and ran over to her wardrobe, found a little coat to throw over her nightshirt, boots, and gloves, then handed him a ribbon to tie her hair back.

“Ready?” he tapped her on the shoulder when he had finished tying her hair.

She nodded, beaming.

They weren’t too far from Reim’s room when Break asked her to hold the candelabra, and stepped down the stairs to the front door.

“Where are you going?” she asked, “Reim’s room is this way.”

“This will only take a moment,” he grinned.

She put her hand on her hip, scowling at him as he ran out the front door. Quickly he returned, with the first snowball in his gloved hand.

“Break! Just what are you intending to do with that?!”

“You’ll see!” said Emily.

Sharon sighed, placing her head in her hand.

Reim stayed at the Rainsworth’s often enough that he had his own room (albeit, not a very fancy one). They quietly entered it to see the servant laying on a bed, much neater than either of theirs, facing away from them. His glasses, and some extra paperwork he just couldn’t leave at work, lay dormant on his nightstand.

Break tiptoed up to his friend, gently pulled back the collar of his shirt, and stuffed a snowball down the back of his shirt.

It was a moment before it took effect, but when it did, Reim skyrocketed out of bed, dancing around, until the snow fell onto the floor.

Break could barely contain his laughter.

He rested his hands on his knees panting. When he regained his bearings enough to figure out what had just happened, and saw Break laughing, he shouted,

“XERXES, YOU BASTARD!!”

Reim lunged at Break, at which the older man only needed to step out of the way, to make Reim trip onto the floor.

“Yes, a tired Reim-san, without his glasses, is definitely a match for me,” he remarked, leaning over him,

“A normal Reim-san isn’t exactly a match either!” Emily squeaked.

“Now, now Emily,” Break chided his doll playfully, “we mustn’t rub this sort of thing in people’s faces.”

“I’m gonna kill you,” Reim’s voice was muffled by the floor

Break laughed, “Is that so?”

“All in good fun!” Emily chirped.

“It’s not fun for me!” he retorted, sitting up, “How can your idea of fun be tormenting your best friend!” Reim got up off the floor and sat on his bed.

“Come now, Reim-san, ‘torment’ is a little harsh, don’t you think?”

“I meant what I said! I mean, who in their right mind thinks a good way to wake their friend up is to stuff freezing-cold snow—”

He interrupted himself, looking at each of them with question in his eyes. He repeated the word, “Snow…?”

Sharon and Break grinned at each other.

Break helped his friend up, saying, “And whoever said I was in my right mind? Didn’t you know? All the best people are mad.”

Reim rolled his eyes.

Sharon and Break stepped up to the window to unveil the answer to his question. Reim followed to inspect the view outside.

Then he looked at each of them, shaking his head and smiling. “Really, you two, after all these years…”

He trailed off, going over to his wardrobe to put on the winter clothes he kept there.

They barely had time to blow out the candles before Sharon grabbed both their hands and dragged them out into the moonlit hall.

They were like little kids trying to get a peek at Santa; bumbling down the hall, almost falling over each other, shushing each other, as they made their way through the manor, down the stairs, out the front door, into the cold grounds.

Even with their winter clothing, the cold still crept in. The snow muffled ordinary sounds, falling seamlessly, sparks of scattered moonlight gleaming off the flakes.

“So, we’ll—” Reim was interrupted by Break throwing a snowball at the back of his head.

“Oy! I was talking!” he whirled around.

“What’s there to talk about, Reim-san?” Break tossed another snowball up and down in his hand.

“I was simply—”

This time it was Sharon who threw the snowball at his face.

“Nice shot, Ojousama,” Break mentioned.

“Thank you,” she grinned, “You’re next, Xerx-niisan.”

“Alright, you two are going down,” Reim challenged.

“That’s more like,” Break smirked.

It didn’t make sense that three adults could have so much fun doing something so childish as playing in the snow. But between exploding snow and shouting, their laughter was what radiated like light from the scene. Maybe they forgot they weren’t children, they forgot that they had grown up things to do, responsibilities to attend to, and that the world was really comprised of blood and pain, and worthless names, not innocence and friendship.

The mad tea party, forever trapped in a moment, forgotten by time.

It was a while later when another voice broke through:

“Hey, what are you guys doing?”

They paused, turning to see Oz at one of the balconies.

“Our humblest apologies, Oz-sama!” Reim shouted back, bowing low, “We didn’t intend to be so loud!”

“No worries!” he yawned, “Are you…having a snowball fight?”

“That’s right, Oz-kun,” Break answered, “Would you like to join us?”

“Really?! You’ll let me?!”

“Sure,” he tossed a snowball up and down in his hand again, “but we certainly won’t be going easy on you!”

Oz beamed. “Hang on a sec! Lemme grab Gil and Alice!”

Not long afterwards, they heard the all-too-familiar sounds of Gilbert and Alice shouting, and they their annoyed faces appeared on the balcony.

“Why are you three having a snowball fight at 6:00 in the morning!” Gilbert yelled down to them.

“Oh? You scared you didn’t make the cut?” Break taunted . “Clown! Is this your doing?!” Alice demanded, “I’ll come down there and make you pay for waking me up!”

As Break spoke to them, Reim saw it as an opportunity to get his own revenge, and snuck up behind him. Break, of course, still heard him coming and, once again, tripped him, as he got close.

Break walked around him in a circle, grinning shaking his head, “You’re going to have to try harder than that to beat me.”

Reim gave an expression akin to Gilbert’s evil eye.

Break kicked some snow onto his head as he walked by, just to rub it his face (quite literally).

Oz, Gilbert, and Alice tumbled down the front steps, already laughing and yelling at each other before they even joined the fight.

“Well look who it is,” Break taunted, leaning over them, then Emily continued,

“The dumb bunny, the spoiled brat, and—” he didn’t get to finish, because the two lunged at him.

There weren’t really any teams, or way of keeping score—it was everyone against everyone else, though each of them had their own approach: Gilbert had a more meticulous method; creating a stash of snowballs, and walls to hide behind, (often getting hit in the building process). Oz was would sneak up on people, and took particular pleasure in knocking down, or stealing, Gil’s hard work, while Alice ran around pelting everyone in sight, holding a particular grudge against anyone who landed a hit on her (who were mostly Break and Oz).

Near the end of their fight, as Break snuck up on Sharon, just about to land a hit on her, he found himself falling, and was then somehow on the other side of the yard,

He paused to regain his bearings, and stood back up to his full height, quickly discerning what had happened.

“Is that really fair, Ojousama?” he called across the yard, knowing she had used her Chain.

She chuckled like it was a trivial offense, “Since when have you cared what’s fair Xerx-niisan?”

Well, she got me there.

It was at this moment he felt a rush of cold! against his neck, and tensed, resisting the urge to spill some choice words. He spun around to see that Reim had been waiting behind a nearby tree and, as he addressed his mistress, Reim had managed to get the perfect revenge.

Break pulled back his shirt to make sure the snow fell, scowling at his friend.

“Say it,” Reim folded his arms over his chest.

“What? That you got me?”

Reim’s expression was unmoving.

“I’ll say nothing of the sort, Reim-san,” he flicked his glasses, “After all, you merely copied me. You should be more creative next time.”

Reim’s fingers curled into fists, practically growling at him.

“I didn’t know we could use Chains!” Oz called, running up to them, having noticed Sharon’s expert use of Eques, (but not the following exchange between Break and Reim.)

“Seaweed-head! Release my limiter!” Alice shouted when she heard, “I want to smash the clowny bastard to smithereens!”

“Is that so?” Break called, “You really want to go down that path, Alice-kun?” Break smirked evilly, “My Mad Hatter would destroy you before Gilbert-kun even had the chance.”

“You wanna go, clown!” Alice hollered, and Gilbert had to hold her back to keep her from rushing at him with teeth and claws.

Reim looked worried, and Oz—wearing a similar expression—spoke in hushed tones, “No, Alice! You don’t want to go up against his Mad Hatter!”

“Try me, Manservant!”

“Break! No one wants to see you killing yourself over some stupid fight with some little girl!” Gilbert scolded.

“Oy! Who you callin’ ‘some little girl’?!” Alice snapped at Gilbert.

That seemed to return Reim to his senses,

“That’s right!” Reim scolded, “What did I tell you about being reckless with your powers?!”

“Always so tense, you two,” he walked up to Alice and ruffled her hair, “I’m only teasing.”

Alice broke free, and the fight resumed, though the others were glad to see neither managed to draw blood, and that it quickly returned to the antics of the snowy game.

And for one brief moment, Break forgot about everything else. About the nightmares, the regrets, and the answers he clung to so desperately as a reason to keep himself from falling further. And for one moment, he could see those flickering lights behind dark eyes, and he was happy he could feel the cold biting his skin, he was happy he could see their faces—rosy-cheeked, all smiles and laughs, even if they were yelling at him—for one precious flicker of a moment, he was happy to be alive.

That moment would end. The shadows would crawl back from the corners of his mind, the smiles would become fake again, the world would become a wax museum of happiness. Reasons that were just that, empty reasons; desire had left them behind in an alleyway long ago, for better, darker wishes. The pain would come back, and once again he’d convince himself, I don’t care, I don’t care, I don’t care about them. About what happens to me. The snow white chaos would return to tears too fast. But in this moment, it was okay. He was okay.

Sharon and Reim ran at him, but instead of getting out of the way, this time he let them bowl him over, the three of them collapsing in the snow.

Shock flitted across their faces, which broke for smiles.

He wanted to say he was sorry. He wanted to tell them over and over I love you both so very much. But he wasn’t the only one who knew that those words falling from Xerxes Break’s lips was all too close to admitting defeat. Because if he admitted he cared, then he wouldn’t be able to let them go when the end came. And he knew it would come all too soon. His lips wouldn’t dare betray him with such miserable words.

So they settled for a smile.

His real smile. Not the smirks and grins he gave away at a moment’s notice. The smile that was barely perceptible, but which, for them, captured within its folds more sunlight than anything else in their world.

Sharon and Reim glanced at each other, then smiled back at him, deciding not to sully the moment with words.

And, as soon as it came, the true smile was replaced with a smirk.

“You two really are gullible,” he put snow in their hair.

They jumped up, shouting his name, trying to rub it out, then quickly ran after him.

He couldn’t tell them the truth. He couldn’t tell them that he was thinking how this might be his last Christmas. He couldn’t tell them how he was wondering if they would still put his stocking on the mantelpiece when he was gone.

He didn’t get a chance to anyways, because it wasn’t long afterwards when beads of citrus and crimson light began tracing the navy sky.

They paused, panting, raising their eyes to look into the sunrise.

For a moment they stared silently at the art the morning made of daybreak, gentle smiles tracing their lips at the beauty.

Then Oz broke in, exclaiming,

“Merry Christmas, everyone!”

“Merry Christmas!” they answered, a little tiredly.

“What do you guys think?” Reim asked, “Ready to go inside?”

“Aww, but we were having so much fun!” Oz protested, trying to mask the fatigue in his voice.

“Easy for you to say, we’re exhausted!”

“To be fair, we were out here much longer than them,” Break panted, realizing just how tired he was. “Perhaps I have gotten old after all. If you youngin’s want to go on—” he flapped a shirt sleeve their direction.

“There he goes again calling himself old!”

Sharon broke in, “Don’t you want to open presents?”

“Presents?!” Oz repeated, like a dog who had seen a squirrel, glancing at Gilbert and Alice, his grin widening.

They began to make their way inside, still laughing and talking about the plays they each had made, and how they would eventually get each other back. As they walked back, instead of joining the conversation, Sharon gently tugged on the corner of Break’s coat, holding him back.

He turned to see that instead of the tired, but joy-full smile that had traced her face moments earlier, she was hanging her head low.

“Ojousama?” he asked worriedly, crouching down beside her, seeing tears begin to grace her cheeks.

The others noticed, and stopped too.

“Xerxes! What did you do?!” Reim demanded.

“Yeah, Break! How dare you make a girl cry on Christmas?!” Oz questioned, running up to her.

He rolled his eyes at them.

“I’m fine, everyone,” Sharon reassured them, giving a somewhat plastered smile, “I’ll just be a moment.”

They all glanced at each other, knowing something was clearly wrong.

“Are you sure?” Gilbert asked.

“Yeah, Sharon-chan, if you need something—”

“Yes. Please, go inside. Break and I will catch up with you.”

They glanced at each other.

“Alright, Sharon-chan. Just let us know if you need anything, okay?” Oz put a hand on her shoulder.

“Thank you, Oz-sama,” she smiled.

The others gave similar smiles back to her, then they gave Break a collective you-better-not-make-this-worse look before walking up the stairs into the manor.

“Sharon?” he asked softly.

No matter how many years went by, he still couldn’t handle the sight of a child in tears.

“Xerx-niisan,” he could tell she was fighting back against the tears, “What if… What if this is your last Christmas?”

He gasped; he didn’t expect her to be thinking about the same thing.

“What if…” she continued, breath taut, “What if we never get to have another snowball fight? What if…?”

“Well,” he rubbed his neck, looking away, “you and Reim can still—”

“Don’t act like everything will be the same when you’re gone!” she threw snow into his face.

He fell back onto his elbows, gently brushing it out of his hair. After a moment a laugh bubbled in his throat, and he put his hand on his face.

“What’s so funny?!” she demanded, scowling.

Obviously that was the wrong thing to do.

If only she had chosen someone else to comfort her; someone like Oz, who could read the situation, and chose his words carefully. Or Gilbert, who was sensitive enough to understand. Even Reim would be better, despite his rather unemotional, straightforward nature. But she had chosen him.

“It’s funny…to tell you the truth,” his voice became more serious, “It’s just…I was thinking about the same thing.”

Shock added to the concoction of hurt and yearning in her eyes.

“Y-You were?”

He looked at the ground and nodded ever so slightly.

“How dare you laugh at that?” she balled a fist in the snow, but the strength seemed to leave her.

She shook her head, tears fluttering back to her eyes, “You can’t…Xerx-niisan, you can’t! I…I don’t want to be alone!” she put her arms around him and fell onto him.

His eye was wide, his breath harsh and cold as he looked at the girl in his arms, forgetting for a less than a moment that she was not that little girl in a darkened room, surrounded by coffins.

He shook his head of the memory.

“You won’t be alone, you’ll have Reim, and Sheryl-sama, and—”

She lifted her head to scowl at him, as if to say must-I-repeat-what-I-said and he cleared his throat, changing his method of attack.

“Well, I won’t go down easy, that’s for sure. But, despite how it might seem,” he gently ran his finger along her cheek, giving that sad but true smile, and whispered, “I am not that strong.”

“You think you can talking about you dying all the time and I’ll just—?!” she tried to fight back, to be angry, but her words fell like the snow, and she murmured again, she let her head fall back onto his shoulder, and whispered back, “Xerx-niisan…”

He gently wrapped his own arms around her.

“I want to be there for you…” she murmured, “I don’t want you to do something stupid…You’re always running into fights without a second thought…” she sobbed for a moment before saying, “Maybe we could…maybe we could stop it? I-I could go into the fights with Eques…Oz-sama and Gilbert-sama—”

He pressed a kiss into her hair, and as she lifted her head off his shoulder to look at him with the wide and teary eyes of her younger self. The look in his eyes was enough to say I’m sorry, Sharon.

“It’s just like I told you, Ojousama,” he ran his fingers through her hair, and murmured into her ear, “No matter how much I may want it to, I can’t stop it from raining.”

She lifted her head off his shoulder to look at him.

“No matter how much we might want it to, we can make the snow fall. Our wishes can’t change things. Even if…” his words were blown by the wind into the stars.

She shook her head gently, murmuring that name.

“Just promise me you won’t make any illegal contracts to bring me back,” he laughed a little, which turned into a grimace, and she knew just how serious he was being.

She smiled for the first time since the conversation started. “I promise.”

For a moment they sat there, together, in a sort of limbo, watching as the sunrise turned into a light blue sky—a present sorrow caught between the earlier joy, wondering which emotion of the two would soon come. Moments were so finicky.

“I can’t promise I’ll have another Christmas, but we still have today. Let’s not waste it with talking about depressing things.”

She nodded, smiling.

He gently reached down and picked her up.

“Xerx-niisan!” she protested at first.

He touched her nose with his finger.

After a moment, as he took her inside, she rested her head against him sleepily, murmuring, “Xerx-niisan, I don’t want…I don’t want you to pretend you’re okay for my sake.”

His eye widened and he jerked his head to look at her.

“Don’t give me that look,” she responded, “I know you do it. You think I can’t handle it.”

He took a deep breath, “I’m fine, Ojousama,” he murmured, and smiled, “It’s Christmas, after all.”

She shook her head, “No you’re not!”

Once again he kissed her head gave her his real smile, “No, really, Sharon. I am. At least for today.”

The smile she returned was real too.

And that was worth far more to them than either of them needed to say aloud.

#pandora hearts #ph #xerxes break #sharon rainsworth #shelly rainsworth #reim lunettes #rainsworth trio #oz vessalius #gilbert nightray #alice baskerville #golden trio #phmonth18 #phmonth #pandora hearts month #pandora hearts month 2018 #christmas #christmas 2018 #fic #fanfic #fanfiction #writing #writers #fic writers #fic writing #antihero writings #fic: the things we say aloud #the things we say aloud

[ladylynse]

Hey Lynse... ive kinda been down lately because people don't review my fics but also never give me prompts whenever I do requests and stuff... it makes me really sad but I really love writing my fanfiction, it just slows me down tho... any advise or help? T-T

Hey, Anon. *hugs* I know how you feel; it can be hard to work up the motivation to do what you love (or at least keep posting it) when something you’re really excited about gets little to no reaction. I still feel that with some fics, if not as often as I did when I was starting out and going at least three chapters without a single review.

As far as tumblr goes, remember that only your first five tags are searchable; the rest just help organize your blog. Putting in the fandom name, that it’s fanfiction/fanfic, or the characters is your best bet for getting people searching through tags to see your work. However, if you add a link to fanfiction.net, the post won’t show up in the search anyway, and only your followers will see it. (I’m pretty sure you can link to the AO3 and have it searchable, but not FF.net. Sites like deviantart will also render your post unsearchable, if you’re an artist, too.)

Don’t feel bad about reblogging your own work a few times to catch people in different time zones; no one else is going to reblog your fic if they never see it in the first place, and other people reblogging your fic is going to be the main way people find your blog to follow it in the first place. (This might not be true once you get thousands of followers if you’ve already got a large chunk of the fanbase following you, but it’s still true for me.)

Another way to increase your exposure as a writer is to participate in months/weeks where a fandom you’re in is holding prompts. Whether there’s a blog going through reblogging everything with the specific tag they ask you to tag it with or just people searching for that certain tag in general, you’re at least guaranteed that someone will be looking for work like what you’ve done, and if they enjoy it, they might reblog it and follow you. You certainly don’t need to do every single prompt--I did two for Miraculous Ladybug in the entire month of August and that first post remains the one with the most notes out of anything I’ve written--but it’s another way for people to find you.

I’m lucky; I’ve managed to pick up a few followers (thanks!) who will cheerfully give me prompts or leave comments on my fics fairly consistently. But I still opened writing requests three times before I ever got one (and at that point, it was just one, from someone I PMed with on FF.net because I actually specifically told them what I was doing) since until then I didn’t really have anyone who was following me for my writing, or at least no one who happened to be on tumblr/saw the post and wanted to see something from me. That’s not a reflection of your writing skill; it’s simply that people haven’t found you yet. 

If you’re writing for popular or at least large fandoms on FF.net/wherever else, the same could be true; your story could be buried before too many people see it beyond those that have you on author alert. If you’re able to, it might be a plan to write ahead of what you’re posting so that you can update more or less consistently; that way, people who are actively reading in the fandom are more likely to spot your story. I used to do that, back when I had more time to write in general, and it seemed to work for me. 

Also, as far as first chapters go? Cliffhangers really do work when it comes to getting readers to stick around for the second chapter, and if you’re lucky, you’ll get a review that’s more than just ‘update soon’ (let’s face it; ‘nice! update soon please’ is preferable). If you think your first chapter is rather boring, writing-wise, because you still need to build up to the action/the problem/etc, considering writing a hook first--some sort of preview of a later scene, which you then go back to work up to that point. It’ll give your readers a taste of what’s to come and hopefully catch and hold their interest through the more tedious setup portion of the story.

Never underestimate the power of a good summary. Do not say that you are bad at summaries, do actually give a summary (not just ‘summary inside’), and do proofread it, too. If there are spelling mistakes in it or improper capitalization/blatant grammatical errors, I don’t even click on a story to read it, because I expect more of the same inside. 

Basic spelling and grammar are important. Nothing will get to me leave a fic faster than clicking on it and seeing the horrific ‘wall of text’; a new paragraph is necessary whenever someone new speaks, and some people still don’t realize that. Some amazing people write in a language that isn’t their first language, and sometimes spelling isn’t people’s forte in general, but spell check is important and free. It’s not foolproof--you can type the wrong word and it won’t catch it if it’s still a word--and that’s where having a beta-reader is nice, in addition to bouncing ideas off them when you get stuck; you can always let people know at the end of the first chapter that you’re looking for a beta reader for the story. Failing that, give yourself some time between writing something and giving it its final proofread; you’ll catch more of your own mistakes if your brain doesn’t remember exactly what you wanted to say and see it correctly even if you’re missing a word. And please do proofread your work; too many errors is jarring, bringing the reader out of the story, and you’ll have fewer people interested in your work if they can’t get into your fic in the first place. The odd error seems to be okay--I know I have those in my work simply because I’ve missed them, and every once in a while I spot one and go back to fix it--but there are limits. People are lazy as readers; they don’t want to have to work to figure out the story you’re telling them. It’s far simpler to just go read a different story.

#writing #ladylynse #advice #asks #text #I hope something helps #good luck Anon #you might just need to get yourself out there #Anonymous

[blueboxesandtrafficcones]

Written on Your Heart - Chapter 7

When you’ve hit rock bottom, the only way to go is up.  Rose begins that climb.

Warnings for hospital scenes, IVs, etc.

Fic masterlist

Tagging @doctorroseprompts and @timepetalsprompts as it’s a soulmate AU.

Now being beta’d by the wonderful @starry-nightflyer!  Thanks!

Rose woke slowly, feeling like she was rising through a fog.  Her first thought was that her head was pounding.  Her second thought was “James!”  Gasping his name, she tried to sit up before pain exploded in her temple and she was forced to sit back and take deep breaths.  After a few moments, she dared to reopen her eyes, before carefully leaning over to the table at her bedside, scrambling for a pen.  She only realized she had an IV when it tugged painfully.

“Whoa, whoa, what are you doing?”  An unknown, male voice asked in alarm.

“Need pen.”  She grunted, trying to stretch to reach.

The boy plucked it from the table top, but didn’t hand it over.  “Why, need to write the next great Oliver Twist?”  He asked in amusement, twirling the pen.

“No, I-” She looked at him for the first time and froze, eyes widening.

He was gorgeous.

Chocolate eyes, dark brown hair she instantly wanted to run her fingers through, a kind, cheeky smile.

He looked older, too, like he was in his late teens.  That snapped Rose back to why she wanted the pen in the first place.

“Not that it’s any of your business, but that’s how I communicate with my soulmate.  I need to talk to him.”  She informed him as seriously and maturely as she could.

The strange boy considered her words for a moment before handing her the pen.

“Fine, if that’s what you want.  But considering the IV in your wrist, don’t you think it might be easier to just talk to him?”  He leaned back in his seat, stretching out his impossibly long legs with a slight, though not unkind, smirk on his face.

“And how do you propose I do that?”  Rose snapped, pen poised above her arm, wondering where to start.  She was sure she’d written to him the previous night, but she couldn’t remember what she’d said and someone had washed her arm off.

“With your mouth?  Like we are now?”  He suggested cheekily.  Rose rolled her eyes, a witty retort on the tip of her tongue, when what he was saying sunk in.

“James?”  She whispered, stunned.

“Hello, love.”  Eyes sparkling, he grinned back at her.

They spent the next several minutes just goofily staring at each other, each drinking the other in.  Though James had spent most of the night watching her sleep, he was amazed at how different she looked awake.  He still couldn’t believe they were sitting together in the same room.  Even though he knew they would have to talk about what led her to drink at the party, for now he just wanted to look at her.

Just as Rose had decided to actually ask him a few questions, the curtain secluding her bed moved aside and her mother appeared, followed by another woman.

“Mum!”  She cried, feeling embarrassing tears well up.

“Good, you’re awake.  Not that himself let anyone know.”  Jackie shot the older teen a look.

“Uh…”  James ran his fingers through his hair sheepishly.  The other woman laughed.

“Oh, come now Jackie.  You can’t blame them for wanting a few minutes to themselves.  If she had needed anything, he would have moved mountains to get it for her.”

“Aunt Sarah!”  James complained, and Rose realized who the other woman was.

Rose tried to push herself up, but the movement pulled at her IV and she sat back, grimacing in pain.

“Here.”  James was instantly at her side, helping her raise the bed and sit up, before fluffing her pillows.  Instead of going back to the chair he’d been in, he perched himself on the side of the bed, within reach.

She stared at him, awed to think that after eighteen months he was so close, but he must have misunderstood because he flushed and moved away, muttering apologies.  She quickly reached out, touching his arm for the first time.

“No!”  She was momentarily distracted by the sparks that made her whole arm tingle where they touched.  “Please don’t leave me.”  She whispered, and he bit his lip in indecision before saying, “All right.  Budge up.”

It took some maneuvering, but eventually they were seated side by side on the bed, with James carefully on the other side from her IV.  Rose nestled closer, feeling safer than she could ever remember, and he only hesitated a moment before carefully wrapping his arm around her shoulders.

“So, Rose, how are you feeling?”  Sarah Jane asked kindly.

“Um…”  In all the excitement of meeting James, her pain was the last thing on her mind, but as she concentrated the ache in her arm and the pain in her head came rushing back full force.

It must have shown on her face, as both women clucked sympathetically and James’ arm around her tightened.

Jackie nodded slowly before saying, “All right, we’ll get you some pain meds soon sweetheart, but first we need to know – what happened?”

At her question, memories began to come back about the awful two weeks previous, and Rose stiffened.

Before she could come up with a satisfactory way to delay answering, James stepped in.

“Uh, Jackie – I mean Mrs. Tyler – can Rose and I have a few minutes?  I think we need to talk before she starts explaining.”

It wasn’t quite the reprieve she was hoping for, but given that he was here and she could look him in the eye for likely the only time before she turned eighteen, she decided to seize the opportunity.

Once they were alone, however, her courage fled and she was unable to meet his eyes, watching her own hand pick at a loose thread on the blanket instead.

Eventually, unable to take the silence any longer, she looked up to find him watching her, waiting patiently.

“Hi.”

“Hi.”  She giggled a little at the exchange, amused that after a year and a half of daily communication, they were actually meeting in person.

“How about we start over, yeah?”  He suddenly suggested, sticking his hand out.  “I’m James.”

“Rose.”  She said pseudo-seriously, giving him a firm handshake.

“Nice to meet you, Rose.”

There stared at each other stupidly again, grinning like fools until James’ smile fell and he glanced away, before looking back at her.

“So, Rose,” he began hesitantly, trying to start off on the right foot.  “Can I tell you a story?”

Her nose crinkled adorably, but she nodded, curious.

“So, I first contacted my soulmate a year and a half ago.  We got on like a house on fire, no problems at all.  Then out of the blue, two weeks ago, she goes to her first dance.  She’s nervous, and not having a good time.  I encourage her to have fun, and enjoy those experiences as they only come around so often.  Everything’s fine.  Starting the next day, she completely ices me out, until she tells me she wants to take a break from each other.  Now, I have absolutely no idea how being supportive of my soulmate caused me to lose her – do you have any ideas?”

She flushed, and instinctively pulled her knees up, trying to hide behind them.

He gave her a few moments to respond, but when she didn’t say anything, he sighed.  “Rose, love, please tell me what I did wrong, because I haven’t got a clue.  I can’t lose you.”  He confessed, reaching out to touch her but pulling back at the last second, leaving his hand on the bed six inches from her foot.

“James…”  She whispered.

“Rose, please.”  He pleaded softly.

“I – I don’t - ”  She sniffled, before deciding to go for broke.  “I’m thirteen.”

“I know.” The upward pitch his voice took on made it sound like a question, prompting her to keep speaking. She sighed heavily.

“You’re seventeen.”

“Yep.”

She shot him a look.  “This is hard enough, do you mind?”

“Sorry.”  He mimed zipping his lips closed and throwing away the key.  Any other day that would have made her laugh, but not now.

“Look, I live on an estate.  I’m not an idiot, I know about the ‘birds and the bees’, and how it is for older teenagers, especially blokes.  I guess I just thought-” She bit her tongue, trying to keep from crying.  “I realize now it probably so naïve to think-” She sniffled, not sure she could get the words out without tears.

James raised his hand, like he was a student in class.

“Yes?”

“Rose, I’ve been waiting my whole life for you.”  He told her seriously, frowning when she snorted.

“I have.  And I’m not particularly – I’ve never been girl crazy, so to speak, even less so after I found you.  I believe in soulmates, in all the wonder and joy, and this past year and half has proven me right in spades.  There are no girls.  I’ve never kissed a girl, romantically I mean, and I don’t plan to start until your eighteenth birthday.  I am yours, Rose, absolutely, unashamedly, unreservedly.  And it kills me to think that you doubt that.”

“But you said-” Rose argued, and he cut her off.

“I said that you need to live your life for you, however you see fit.  I said you don’t owe me anything just because we’re soulmated.  How and with whom you choose to spend your time is up to you.  If you want to date some idiot, that’s your right.  I believe we belong to each other, but that doesn’t mean that you’re my property.  I choose you, Rose.  I choose to wait, to have all of those ‘firsts’ with you.  But if you don’t choose me, or you don’t choose me right now, then that’s fine.  That’s your call.”  He told her firmly.

She stared at him.  “Do you honestly believe that?”

He nodded firmly.

“I thought…”  She trailed off, now feeling even more embarrassed after his passionate speech.

“You thought I was a typical estate bloke, who only cared about himself and doing what he wanted.”

“Yeah.”  She admitted softly, staring down at her knee.

He was quiet for a good minute.

“I can’t deny that doesn’t hurt, a bit.  I’d like to think you know me better, but the truth is if you’ve never seen that, it’s hard to believe.  My parents, they were the perfect couple, completely devoted to each other.  For me, that kind of adoration is as instinctual as breathing.”

“I want that.”  She whispered.

He didn’t say anything, and eventually she looked up to see him watching her.

When their gazes met, he smiled, though she noticed it started with his eyes before moving to his mouth.

“Oh, love.  You’ve already got it.”

#bbatcfic #doctorroseprompts #timepetalscollective #ficandchips #Doctor Who #human!tenxrose #human!ten #rose tyler #Written On Your Heart #soulmates au #human au

[turtlesoupstories]

A Medical Emergency Pt.2

Howdy friends! It’s wee bairn Marlo, coming to you live from a family holiday to Montreal. So many of you asked for a second part to my prompt surrounding doctor Claire and patient Jamie, which I have since dubbed A Medical Emergency (which you can read here). And, considering how angsty the last few TSS fics have been (blame Kaitlyn and Mikayla), I figured it was time to deliver some fluff for your amusement!

As always, a major thank you to my Kilt Kult buddies and fellow TSS mods for keeping me on track and reassuring me that my writing isn’t trash. Also, I owe all of you a major shout out as well, as I would never have written this fic without your overwhelming positive response. So, thank you thank you thank you from the very bottom of my heart!

Enjoy!

It was two weeks before Claire could stomach facing Jamie again. The surgery had been a success, and Claire had meticulously mended the shattered bones of Jamie’s hand. She hadn’t counted on the infection that set in, keeping him bedridden and feverish for nearly a week. Claire couldn’t help but feel responsible.

“It happens all the time LJ. I wouldn’t worry about it.” said Joe Abernathy, Claire’s fellow doctor and hospital confidante. She knew that there was nothing she could have done, that infections happen and it was out of her control, but the thought of seeing Jamie in more pain, with even the smallest chance of it being by her hand, was too much to bear. She didn’t know what is was about this Scot: his bull-headedness, the way his nose crinkled when he smiled at her as she was wheeling him into surgery, or how peaceful and innocent he looked under anesthesia, the softness of his face making him look like a child. Whatever it was, Claire found herself experiencing feelings she had never felt before, and it left her simultaneously terrified and exhilarated.

It was a Tuesday afternoon, and Claire had just finished a run of the mill appendectomy. Granted with a brief reprieve, she quickly cleaned herself off before heading to the on-call room, eager to take a quick rest before her pager summoned her again. Unfortunately, she found herself having to cross through the recovery wing, where Jamie lay behind the closed door of room 263. Claire had continued to follow his case, coercing nurses into providing valuable intel on his condition and moral.

“Yes, he is eating.”

“No. He doesn’t have a fever.”

“If you’re so interested Doctor, why don’t you go ask him yourself?”

Still, Claire refused to step foot in that room. The nagging guilt in her stomach surrounding his prolonged hospitalization, coupled with the more puzzling stirrings deep in the pit of her stomach, wouldn’t allow her to walk down the white tile hall leading up to his room. Unfortunately, she currently had no other option.

She went by as quickly as she could, keeping her head down and praying that no one would stop her.

“Doctor Beauchamp!”

Claire grimaced as she heard her name and reluctantly turned around to face her summoner.

“Ah, Mrs. Murray. I hope all is well?”

“Aye. Things have been goin’ on well enough for me, though I canna say the same about my brother.”

Claire felt her heart drop. Had something happened to Jamie? Was the infection back? The cold white walls of the hall seemed to stretch out before her, and her head began to spin. She wanted to respond, to ask Jamie’s sister, Jenny, what was wrong. But for the first time, Claire couldn’t find the words.

Jenny saw the distress in Claire’s eyes. “He’s been askin’ for you.” she said, “Said that you owed him a date.”

He remembered that? Claire thought, shocked that after weeks, a major operation, and a bout of illness, Jamie still remembered the date she had promised.

Claire felt her cheeks go hot. “I guess I do… I just wasn’t sure if-”

“If he was being serious? Doctor Beauchamp, ye may not have known my brother long, but you oughta be able to tell that it wasna the pain speaking when he asked to see you again. I canna tell you why, but ye seem to have him wrapped around your dainty English finger.”

Claire was left dumbfounded. Maybe whatever nagging feeling in her gut that had been plaguing her since her first meeting with Jamie Fraser was mutual. Or, maybe he wanted to see her to ask what she did wrong, how horribly she had failed to keep him in hospital for an extra week, at least.

“I'll try and see him as soon as I can; I promise. But I really have to get going now, a doctor’s work never ends.” She slowly backed away. “It really was nice to speak with you again, Mrs. Murray, and I’m happy to hear that Mr. Fraser is recovering well. Give him my best.” And with that, Claire practically sprinted down the hall, feeling Jenny’s eyes burning into her back until she turned the corner.

Forgetting about her intent to rest, she pushed open the door to the women’s room, pushing into a stall, unsure whether she was about to throw up, burst into tears, or some combination of the two. She sat, chest heaving, her head in her hands, breathing in the sanitary scent of her post-surgery, anti-bacterial soap.

Pull yourself together Beauchamp. You’re a bloody doctor for Christ’s sake!

Slowly, Claire felt herself begin to calm, her hands stopped shaking and her heart no longer felt like it was going to burst from her chest. She left the stall, and stared at herself in the warped mirror over the sink, splashing water on her face and running a hand through her knotted curls. She thought about what Jenny had said; Jamie wanted to see her.

She knew she couldn’t hide any longer, and it was time to face the music. Taking a steely breath, and making one final adjustment to her hair, Claire escaped the rest-room and made her way to the cafe.

Arms laden with all of the delicacies the hospital had to offer, Claire stood outside of Jamie’s room, unsure what was awaiting her inside. Was she about to face the angry wrath of a man betrayed by his doctor, or was she going to find the same stubborn, exuberant face she had met in the A&E? Regardless, she had no other choice than to face him. Shifting the food in her arms, Claire quickly rapped at the door, her heart racing as she heard his Scottish lilt.

“Come in.”

Claire fumbled with the door handle with sweaty palms, hardly the dexterous fingers used just hours ago as she sutured the abdomen of her patient. She entered the room frazzled, taken aback by how utterly bare it was. Jamie lay in his bed against the wall, an IV slowly dripping antibiotics into his arm. Where patients normally had the walls decorated with well-wishes from loved ones or the doodles of a young relative, the walls of Jamie’s room remained starkly white. There were no cards on the table, nor flowers, save for the traditional bundle of forget-me-nots left by nurses wilting in a hideous ceramic vase. Jamie was reading a book, but she couldn’t make out the title from where she was stood. It didn't matter, he set the book aside as soon as she entered the room.

When he saw her, his face lit up like the sun.

“Ach! Doctor Beauchamp, I wasna expectin’ you. If I had known you would be payin’ me a visit, I would have made myself look a bit more presentable.”

In all honesty, Claire couldn't complain about his appearance. The whiteness of the room made the red of his hair glow like flames, and the periwinkle of his hospital gown made his blue irises shine. It made her feel self-conscious, the horrid green of her scrubs making her look ill, and her hair hastily gathered into a bun on the top of her head.  But his warm reception eased her trepidations and made the corners of her mouth lift into a smile.

“Well, I had promised you a date, and I felt it was about time I followed through.”

She pulled up a chair next the the bed, and lay out the assortment of snacks she had brought.

“I would have brought some actual food, but I didn’t want to poison you. So, pre-packaged it is.” She waved her hands over the assembled pile of crisps, muffins, sandwiches, and bottles of juice.

Jamie gave the food a skeptical look, before turning to Claire and grinning.

“‘Tis a feast worthy of God himself!”

And so they settled in, Claire’s fears quickly forgotten as she and Jamie slipped back into the quick rappeur they had shared during their initial meeting. The conversation started playfully enough, Claire inquiring about how he was feeling, and whether he was finally going to admit to the extent of damage he had taken during the brawl.

“I didna want to start anything, but the way I saw him treating the lass had me boiling.”

Claire snickered, “Chivalry isn't dead after all. You’re a modern knight in shining armour.”

Jamie, as gallantly as he could confined to a bed, bowed with a flourish, kissing Claire’s hand without ever taking his eyes off of hers.

The electricity in the room was palpable. Time seemed to slow significantly as Claire and Jamie conversed, toasting their bottled grape juice and exchanging tales about their childhood. He recounted the chaos of Lallybroch, where he was able to run wild through the highlands, causing all sorts of mischief. She told tales of her worldly adventures with her Uncle Lamb, traveling the world on archeological digs.

“But why did you go with your uncle?” Jamie asked, “Wouldn’t it have been simpler to have gotten a traditional education with your parents in England?”

She sobered, putting down the blueberry muffin she had been picking at. “My parents died in a car accident when I was young. My uncle was the only family I had left…”

He placed a comforting palm on Claire’s hand, his thumb making soothing circles over her porcelain skin.

“I ken how ye feel... my mam passed when I was a lad; Da followed her shortly thereafter. Most people say he died of a broken heart.”

It was Claire’s turn to comfort, leaning forward and brushing a stray auburn curl out of his face. Their noses were nearly touching, and she breathed in Jamie’s rugged highland scent. Despite the overwhelming sanitary odor that permeated the air, Jamie radiated the scent of the  outdoors: a mixture of pine and musk, leather and whisky. It made her dizzy. The pair sat in silence for a moment, taking each other in as if the other would disappear at any moment. She could feel his eyes boring into her, memorizing every last angle of her face, and she found herself floating away in the azure of his eyes.

“You were the first thing I thought about,” Jamie said suddenly, breaking the spell that had rendered them silent. “I ken it sounds daft, but when I woke up after the surgery, the only thought in my mind was your name. Claire.”

“Well...” She murmured, a smile at the corner of her mouth. “That would imply that I was the last thing you were thinking about before you went under anaesthesia.”

“Aye. I guess that you were.”

The pair slid into a state of tranquil silence, content just to be in each other's company. Claire wanted to ask Jamie if he blamed her for the infection, but she knew just what his answer would be. It seemed utterly impossible for Jamie to find a fault in his former doctor; she could tell just from observing the adoration in his eyes. It made her heart swell knowing that she could spend just a few hours with someone and have this coursing stream of affection serving as a tether between the two of them. It was something she didn’t want to lose.

“If you don’t mind me asking, why me?” Claire asked hesitantly, her fingers tracing up and down the thin cotton bedspread, leaving soft indentations in their wake. “You didn’t know me. I could have been a bloody monster for all you knew, yet you still asked me on this ‘date’; I just... don’t understand.”

“I dinna ken it either, Sassenach, but the moment I saw you in the ambulance bay, I needed to know you. There are no words to explain the way I feel about you. It sounds daft, but I think I may be falling in love with you, Dr. Claire Beauchamp.”

In the past, a similar declaration would have sent Claire running for the hills. The very notion of being in love terrified her. It was a completely foreign feeling that she had yet to experience. Yet, sitting beside Jamie in his hospital bed, surrounded by crumpled food wrappers and crumbs, Claire she knew that whatever feeling Jamie was describing- regardless of whether it was love- she felt it, too. She struggled in vain to come up with a response, but her head was addled with thousands of thoughts.

Am I losing my mind?

Is it morally wrong to see a patient?

What if we’re both wrong?

She opened her mouth to speak, Jamie’s eyes tuned to her in anticipation for her response. The door flew open, revealing a very flustered Joe Abernathy.

“Jesus, LJ, where have you been? It’s all hands on deck, multi-car collision, multiple code blues. We need you down in the A&E!”

“I’ll be right down.” Claire responded curtly, giving Jamie an apologetic look.

“It’s alright, Doctor. Duty calls. I’ll still be waiting here when ye’re done.” Jamie smiled softly, and before she knew what she was doing, Claire found herself leaning across the bed and kissing him. He made a surprised noise in the back of his throat, but didn’t pull away. Her hands found their way around his neck and she could hear the heart monitors rapid beeping, giving away Jamie’s racing heart.  It wasn’t until Joe cleared his throat that Claire snapped back to reality and pulled away sheepishly.

She jumped off the bed, straightened her scrubs and raced out of the room, leaving a stunned Joe Abernathy and a stupefied Jamie in her wake.

A sharp British shout echoed from down the hall, “Joe, are you coming?”

He looked out the door, then back at the red-headed patient sitting in the hospital bed in front of him, struggling to piece together what he had just witnessed.

“Hell of a first date!” He joked before escaping the room in search of Claire, leaving Jamie alone with the feeling of Claire’s lips pressed against his own.

Hell of a first date, indeed!

#Guys #I am not writing another part of this #At least i dont think i am #Please dont tempt me though #I have enough on my plate as it is #But i am happy with how this turned out #i honestly had no clue where I wanted it to go #so it oculd have been a trainwreck #let me know that you think #a medical emergency #modern au #marlo #marlosbooknook #sequel #hospital au #outlander fanfic #outlander #claire #jamie fraser #fluffy #fluff