#this was supposed to be a one and done ficlet but it kind of became something else and now I want to continue

[the-angst-chronicles-fanworks]

The Wolf and The Witch

Part 1/?

Steve knows better than to enter the Witchwood. He’d been warned from the time he was a child, back before the wolf, that it was home to its namesake. And not just any witch, a dangerous one. One that had killed an entire hunting party, unprompted, with the flick of a finger. None who have entered those woods since have ever returned.

Steve knows better than to enter the Witchwood, but he doesn’t have a choice. Robin is slumped over his back, hands clenched tightly in his fur, clinging desperately to consciousness. He can feel her blood, warm and sticky, matting the fur of his back. His own gait is slowed, every step jolting the silver teeth digging into his right hind leg and sending sharp pain shooting through him. He’s not sure how much longer he can run, and he can hear them - the bloodthirsty cries of the townsfolk dead set on his murder.

They had been found out. So many cycles of living in this town, living among its residents as a friend and neighbour, and still they’ve all turned on him. Of all the times for it to happen, too. It was the moon he had agreed to make Robin a wolf. She had already been weakened from the wolf taking hold when they had been attacked, the silver already a weakness but her body not yet given over to the strength of the wolf.

Steve wishes he could take her to Nancy, knows Nancy would help despite everything, but the townspeople have blocked them off, funneled him in his blind panic. His only hope is to lose them is the wood, but even then he might lose Robin to his own fumbling medical knowledge.

But first, he has to get away from their pursuers. Steeling himself with a deep breath, Steve enters the Witchwood.

————————————————————————

Eddie is no stranger to people trying to do him harm. It’s been a constant in his life from the time he was a child, long before his gifts had awakened. And one that had- well. It’s been a constant of his life, sure as the cycle of the moon and sun. So he notices the prickle of someone entering the woods, but he gives it no regard. It happens a few times a year, that someone gets it into their heads that they will be the one to kill “The Witch of the Woods”. None ever even make it to him, losing themselves in the enchanted trees.

These trees are older than him, and their magic is their own. They like him and welcome him among them, but otherwise are hostile to outsiders. In the beginning, he had tried to help those who became lost in the woods, but those days have long since passed. Despite what his uncle says about his soft heart, Eddie’s become bitter and jaded and he no longer pays any mind to those who venture into the woods.

But this time, something is different. Eddie feels the disturbance of someone crossing into the forest, feels the shift of magic as the forest warps around them, and it’s… different. The ways and paths of the trees are second nature to him, he can tell by the shimmer of magic against his skin which paths have been revealed and which hidden away and this…

The forest is being lenient, gentle. The interlopers are shown the ways to peaceful places, soft and danger-free. Eddie can recall only a few times that the forest has been kind to intruders, and it has almost exclusively been to children.

So he’s more than curious already when he feels the buzz of more people crossing the boundary into the woods. A lot more. And Eddie realizes that this hunt is not for him.

The trees are not so kind this time, opening its twists and turns like a maze, a trap for anyone foolish enough not to turn back immediately. They don’t, of course. They never do. Eddie pays them no mind, drawn instead by curiosity to the two that are being pursued.

He steps between the trees, slipping into a space that’s folded away between reality, picking his way with ease through paths that are there and paths that are not until he emerges at the edge of a small clearing, moonlit and mossy. Theres a tiny spring-fed pond and there, limping toward it, is a wolf. It’s huge, the size of a small bear, with a strong frame and thick russet fur.

It notices him at the same time as he notices it, and it’s massive head swings to face him, teeth already bared in a snarl. It’s hackles raise, and it turns fully, squaring up, a threatening growl rumbling across the little clearing to him.

Eddie steps back, already gathering his power until it glows around him with dark energy, because this is no normal wolf. Even without the size and the silver trap clamped around its leg giving it away, he can see it in its eyes, feel in its presence that this is something more.

He recalls his childhood, the warning tales at his mother’s knee. He remebers later, freshly chased out of town and taken in by his uncle, watching as the old man leafed through his ancient book and warned Eddie that he wasn’t the only dangerous thing in the wilds. Eddie has no doubt that he’s come across one of those dangerous things now. He looks at the wolf and knows exactly what he’s seeing.

A werewolf.

#steddie #steddie fic #steddie fanfiction #Eddie Munson #Steve Harrington #fantasy au #werewolf Steve #Eddie’s not really a witch he doesn’t practice witchcraft in any real way #that’s just what the people call him #I’d say he’s more of a sorcerer with a sprinkle of Druid #I’m still calling this the wolf and the witch because they both start with w lol #this was supposed to be a one and done ficlet but it kind of became something else and now I want to continue #magic Eddie #werewolf Robin #she was just bitten like a couple of hours ago poor robs TToTT #it’s important that you know Eddie’s magic is black or dark red and his eyes go black when he really uses it #both Eddie and Steve (and now Robin ) have elongated lifespans #Nancy is Steve’s ex and she knows that he’s a wolf #she doesn’t exactly like it but she’s working on that with herself and she would still protect him with everything she has #writing #my writing #fanfiction #my fanfiction #stranger things #stranger things fanfiction

[jokeringcutio]

Imagine: Reader & Arthur Shaw Joining the Search Party

Imagine: Albert Shaw X (Teacher) Reader Warnings: 18+ content, Non-con, Kidnapping. Fandom: Black Phone.

Written for @myers-meadow. Note: I started a ficlet/oneshot. But I wasn't happy with the way it was turning out. So I tried an imagine instead and wanted to post that one before I give the other idea a go again. Hopefully, you'll still like it <3

Imagine: Being on the Search Party with Albert Shaw

When your father was offered a job, the whole family relocated to Denver. You were looking for an internship and found one offered at Denver’s local school. Naturally, you took it.

A few months after moving to your new house and the new job, the first kids started to disappear. And you started to worry about your own class. They were slightly younger than the kids taken by the now infamous Grabber, but with a man like this on the loose, you never knew.

And so you became more and more protective of your kids.

You wouldn’t let any leave the school on their own and encouraged them to travel in groups. Sometimes, you even brought some of the kids to their houses if they had no one to travel with.

You were a good teacher. Fresh on the job, but passionate and concerned. You thought of everything.

When another boy went missing, the local residents decided to assemble search parties.  Of course, you were joining them.

Everyone gathered in the local gym. You helped your parents prepare lunch bags for those who joined the search.

It was your mother who pushed you towards a man named Albert Shaw. He stood behind one of the tables and was handing out the bags. “You can help him,” she said. “Albert Shaw is a very nice man, and he could use a pair of extra hands.”

You were instantly smitten. Just the sight of the man brought butterflies to your belly and heat to your core. He was older, by far. His dark hair already graying at the temples, slicked back not by gel but because he had been wearing a baseball cap. You could see the item discarded at the side of the table.

After you handed him the bags, you watched his strong arms as he evenly distributed them on the table in front of him. The way those muscles twitched. You were salivating by the time he was done. It was sinful that a man like him, wearing an ordinary shirt with short sleeves, could look this attractive.

And you scolded yourself internally for staring a bit too long at his arms, and for blushing right after.

He caught your stare. You could tell by the way he smiled – there was a hint of mischievousness to it. And then he asked you if there was anything else you needed of him.

Embarrassed, you stuttered that you wanted to help. And he let you join him at the table, handing out bags together. It was comfortable around him, even though you felt a little painful pang in your chest when you watched the rings on his hands. Was he married? You shouldn't be getting any fancy thoughts avout him. You were pretty sure he wasn't for you.

“I haven’t seen you around before,” Albert murmured. You were certain it was just supposed to be a normal, polite, and kind conversation. Yet you couldn’t help but shake the thought that the way he said it might mean something more. That he was interested in you? Surely not.

You told him about the move, that you didn’t know that many people yet. That you still lived with your parents but worked as a teacher.

He admitted to have met your dad a few weeks ago. That he heard him talk about his clever daughter.

And then he started to ask one question after another about you and your life.

The whole interaction was nice, but it left you with a bitter aftertaste. Albert took every opportunity to give you compliments that made your heart swell and made you think he might be flirting with you. But then he would remark about your age, to you looking younger than you were, and you thought, surely not.

You’d felt great at the time because of all of his attention. But after, it had felt like there had been something off.

Just like your parents, you joined in the search. You had signed up the moment you could and joined a little group that would head into the woods surrounding Denver.

When the group was about to leave, that was when Albert came rushing over, requesting to come along. Your party leader allowed it, smiling and happily thanking Albert for his help.

“You’re always such a big support to our community,” he had said, gesturing for Albert to come along. “A pillar to Mr. Yamada as well.”

Apparently, Albert knew the missing kid’s father. He told you Yamada was part of a group of friends of his that he would hang out with. They would go bowling and hold barbecues. Have a beer.

You noticed how Albert stuck close to your side. And soon the two of you were talking about all sorts of things. Until you noticed the party had somehow split and you had lost sight of the others.

You had ended up with Albert alone.

He led you deeper into the woods, until the trees grew tall and the area became dark. Shadows covered the two of you.

His compliments became more obscene, but there was nowhere to go to. You didn't know your way around here and you feared you might be lost.

He said he thought he saw something, and you were brave enough to walk closer to the spot to have a look. Nothing.

But when you turned around, your heart nearly stopped.

Albert had donned a mask. A demonic one.

You asked him if he was okay? If this was his idea of a joke? But Albert was darn serious.

He wrestled you to the forest floor – honestly, there was no real competition. If his height hadn’t given him enough leverage over you, then the fact that he was much stronger than you would have done the trick. Any attraction you might have felt for him was suddenly gone and replaced with a cold dread when you felt his hands tightly upon your arms, his fingers were digging into your skin, leaving bruises.

He ripped open your blouse and shoved aside your bra. Twigs and leaves got stuck in your hair and between your fingers, but you couldn’t push him off.

Despite your struggle, he overpowered you with ease and he pushed your panties aside.

The thick fat tip of his cock was weeping when it was pressed between your folds, pre-cum smeared at your entrance.

You tried to push him off of you, hands against his arms and his chest, but he merely grunted. And even if you did not see his face, you could see the pleasure in his eyes. He was enjoying this, the bastard.

He thrust deep inside of you. Just one firm thrust. It made you gasp and cease your struggle. Your voice was hoarse from calling for help; calls he quieted with his hand while he started to thrust into you, up and up, deeper and deeper, until your back slid against the forest floor.

He made you feel dirty. His belly pressed against yours, his knees trapping you by the waist, his cock thrust hard into you. You could not help the little noises you made, from pleasure, from pain, a mixture of them both.

He chased his release without giving a damn about yours, and when he came, it was with a long grunt. Your eyes grew wide, knowing he was about to let you go. Right?

“Such a shame,” you heard the moaned whisper in your ear, “such a pretty little teacher. Ah well, the kids will have to do without you.”

He made you scream, the can of helium close to your lips. Then you lost consciousness.

~ * ~

There you were, the happy, pretty new teacher. Locked up in a basement.

It didn’t take you long to figure out the man who kept you here was Denver’s Grabber.

A man who took pleasure in watching you as you taught the innocent victims he took home with him. Knowing they’d be dead sooner rather than later. A waste of your talent – though he thought that it would be a waste if you never used your teaching skills on any kid ever again.

Right after he took you away, he was absent for nearly a day.

“Guess who we’ve been looking for?” he crooned, the missing poster with your photo on it was teasingly thrown in front of you.

“Found you. And you know what they say, finders keepers.”

Your new life in Denver didn't pan out the way you had planned. You're Albert's play thing now.

#imagine #albert shaw x reader #grabber x you

[mdzs-owns-my-ass-i-guess]

The weight of the world

@mdzs-is-rotting-my-brain

"Saying I love you without saying it: getting your partner through a panic attack" prompt

Warnings: gore, and I mean it

Fun fact actually really sad fact, I had to Google how to help someone through a panic attack because I always rawdog mine by myself (and usually there's nobody to notice and/or help).

Ok, I'm done trauma dumping, onto the ficlet!

It was supposed to be a simple night hunt. Some low-level corpses, the kind of thing juniors are tasked with for practice. He and Lan Zhan had just happened to be passing through and decided to help - after all, it wasn't anything they couldn't get done in an hour and still be home for dinner. But, as it sometimes happens with these things, they go wrong.

Wei Ying suddenly found himself paralyzed among the horde of corpses, and his body wouldn't listen. He could reach for Chenqing, for Suibian, flick his hand to summon resentful energy, whistle, send in talismans, even call for Lan Zhan - but he couldn't do any of those things.

He could barely breathe.

He was 23 again, in the Burial Mounds, holding onto the half-destroyed Stygian Tiger Amulet as corpses ran his way, trampling over one another to reach their target, jaws unhinged and lifeless expressions twisted with resentment.

He was the Yiling Patriarch, eyes squeezed shut so he wouldn't see them reach to tear into his clothes, into his flesh, claws digging into the fine layer of skin that covered emaciated bones.

He was Wei Wuxian, bitten and torn into, screaming in pain, for mercy that wouldn't come, watching his body be ripped into, blood gushing out, skin hanging off his bones, organs turned into nothing, eyes cast upwards in prayer for it to be over already before they were dug out.

He was the world's most hated man, about to receive his punishment.

Bichen's glare swooped in, and the corpses dissipated into nothingness.

Wei Wuxian was no longer in the Burial Mounds.

But he could still feel teeth and claws, his body tingling with the fantom sensations, shaking until he could no longer stand up. He couldn't breathe, the feeling of his ribcage closing in all too familiar, heart struggling to keep up, the world too hot and too cold successively.

He heard Lan Zhan call out his name, but he couldn't focus on it, his body caught between reality and a horrid fantasy, tears clouding his vision.

"Wei Ying!" And Lan Zhan wanted to reach out to hold him, but Wei Ying swatted his hand away, his features twisted in terror for a brief moment before his mind registered who it had been that wanted to touch him.

The knot in his throat didn't lessen, though, and neither did the paralyzing tension in his bones.

"Wei Ying, please listen to me. I will not touch you if you don't want me to. But I want to help you."

Wei Ying nodded, briefly, struggling to let out a shaky breath.

"Tell me what to do."

"I don't know. Talk to me. Tell me something to distract me."

Lan Zhan sat next to him, a respectful distance away, close enough to be within reach but not to touch, "We are safe here, now, I won't let anyone or anything hurt you. We will go home, and we will play with the bunnies, and we will have dinner after, like we always do."

Wei Ying tried to calm his breathing again, and Lan Zhan remembered something he read a long time ago. "Would you like us to try breathing exercises?"

"Yeah."

"I need you to look at me, and time your breathing with mine. We will breathe in for seven seconds, hold it for three, and then release for another seven."

Wei Ying nodded, and watched as Lan Zhan did just as he said, following him. It did feel useless at first, his mind still reeling, but the more he focused on counting the seconds to breathe in, hold and breathe out, the more immersed he became in it, and the drumming of his heart lessened, his lungs no longer burning from a seeming lack of air.

"How are you feeling, Wei Ying?"

"Better, I think. Can you hold me now, a bit?"

"Mn."

Wei Ying tentatively crawled over his husband, and burrowed in his chest. "You can put your arms around me, now, I won't freak out anymore."

Lan Zhan did as told, rubbing soothing shapes down Wei Ying's back. "I am here. I'll always be."

Wei Ying hummed in acknowledgement, busying himself with tracing over the embroidery on his husband's robes. "Can you sing me something nice? And then we go home?"

"Mn."

By the time the song had finished, Wei Ying had fallen asleep in Lan Zhan's arms, mind and body exhausted with what had happened. Carefully, Lan Zhan carried him all the way to the Cloud Recesses, his heartbeat unknowingly lulling his husband into a peaceful slumber.

#mdzs #mo dao zu shi #wangxian #writing attempts

[gonzo-rella]

Your Hero | Izzy Hands

MASTERLIST | AO3 | KO-FI

Relationship(s): Trans!Izzy Hands x gn!reader (implied romantic)

Summary: Even after decades of living as a man, Izzy still experiences gender euphoria.

Warnings: Canon-typical, darkly comical violence (blood, stabbing and all that lovely stuff), possible playing into gender stereotypes. (Let me know if I need to add any)

Word count: 0.5k

DISCLAIMER: I’m not a transmasculine person (I’m an AFAB agender person), so apologies if this feels like an inaccurate portrayal of the transmasculine experience. Please feel free to let me know if there are any issues with this so I can learn from it!

(A/N: I adore the headcanon of trans Izzy, so much so that I wanted to write something where Izzy is explicitly trans. I’d love to explore the concept beyond this ficlet (I might even end up writing a non-reader-insert AO3 fic if the inspiration hits me). I’d like to think that in everything that I write that Izzy can be read as trans, even if it’s not made apparent in the fic. Feel free to/ pretty please request more trans Izzy stuff (or trans anyone stuff). That author’s note sure said ‘trans’ a lot.)

“Ah. Shit.”

A crewmember of the ship you were raiding smirked as he knocked the sword out of your hand. If you crouched down to retrieve it, he’d strike then. If you tried to leg it... well, he’d probably still stab you.

Unfortunately, you did the worst thing you could have possibly done in that moment: you froze. In what you believed would be your final moments, you tried to convince yourself that you’d had a good run (the key word being ‘tried’). Who were you kidding? It’d all been relatively shit until recently, and now everything was about to come to a tragic, bloody end.

Izzy watched you from afar, somehow managing to take down another enemy crewmember while only half-paying attention to what he was doing. 

You were so caught up in your anticipation of death that you didn’t notice him approaching the guy from behind. It was only when your foe collapsed to his knees, clutching his midsection, that you realised he had been skewered by Izzy’s sword. In fact, you hadn’t noticed how everything was dying down around you. It was beginning to look like you would live to see another day.

A sigh of relief escaped your lips and a grin spread across your face. You watched as Izzy extracted the blade from the man, and he finally met your gaze. He looked more concerned than usual, and you were quite surprised that he hadn’t already begun his tirade, criticising you for your ineptitude in wielding a sword. But, you weren’t in the right mind to care.

Almost skewering yourself on his sword, you leapt over the dying man and wrapped your arms around Izzy’s neck, pressing a grateful kiss to his cheek. His hands fell limp at his sides.

“Thank you so fucking much, Iz.” you whispered, barely able to speak. “You’re my hero.”

In a very Izzy fashion, he didn’t hug you back. But, he didn’t shove you off and scoff at you like you expected him to. Once again, you were too overjoyed about your survival to question it.

Little did you know, he was just as grateful for your words as you were for the swift rescue. His heart fluttered while his mind became fixed on you, on this. He supposed this malfunction was responsible for him being unable to move, standing stiffly in your arms. Izzy wasn’t one for happiness, and he was barely one for contentment, but that moment caused a familiar warmth to spread throughout his body. It was a kind of warmth that used to feel like a blaze when he was younger, when he was less used to being seen and treated as a man.

‘Your hero’. That’s how you saw him: strong, brave, capable. And, it made his heart swell with pride. Of course, he knew anyone who wasn’t a man could be all of those things; Jim was a great example of that. And, perhaps you’d be saying this to him if he were a woman. But, he didn’t care. It was the kind of declaration he had always associated with an unattainable masculinity, and this was the kind of moment he could have only dreamed of back when no one would take him seriously as a boy, let alone a man.

He swallowed thickly, doing his best to stifle the smile that was so eager to grace his lips.

“D-don’t mention it.”

#izzy hands x reader #izzy hands #trans izzy hands #trans #trans man #trans male #transgender #transgender man #transgender male #ofmd x reader #ofmd #our flag means death x reader #our flag means death #x reader #x gender neutral!reader #x gender neutral reader #x gn!reader #x gn reader

[sugareey-makes-stuff]

This is definitely a long time coming, but I finally wrote a text only fic for Sterek, complete with a stylized AND plain text view for reading! Also my first long fic that I've written since...I don't even know when (aka it's NOT a drabble or ficlet!!). This is also belated from July, but for reasons you can read more about below the cut. Inspired by @yearoftheotpevent's July prompt "stars," as well as sniperjade's Masturbation Midsummer Bingo 2023, using the square "I can't anymore," and Summer of Cum 2023 prompts "creampie," "come marking," "precome," "come swallowing," "coming untouched," and "coming in pants" (yeah, there's definitely a spicy theme here :P).

Title: Feel You Breathing (<- on AO3) Rating: Explicit WC: 8.4k Tags: Texting/Sexting, Established Relationship, UST, Porn with Feelings, Porn With Plot, Fantasizing, Teasing, Banter, Filthy, Dirty Talk, Masturbation, Idiots in Love, Writer Derek Hale, Bartender and Graduate Student Stiles Stilinski, Business Trip, Flight Delays, Coming In Pants, Coming Untouched, Nipple Play, Light Dom/sub, Bad Pick-Up Lines, Humor, Shopping, Sex Toys, Kink Exploration, Werewolf Mates, Anchors, Love Confessions, Pet Names, Romantic Angst, Stiles AND Derek are Little Shits, POV Alternating

Summary: Derek: So, you need a distraction. Stiles: Maybe Stiles: It’d be better if you were here to help me with that. Stiles: ;D [Or: Sexy things start late one night when Derek gets a text from Stiles and escalate from there. A few secrets are revealed along the way.]

Some of my lovely Sterek friends know I've been dabbling in and out of writing text fics since last year (2022). Easier said than done 1000%, I'm going to tell you that right now. It only took me 3 tries to get it right! (And yes, it means my other 2 WIPs need to be reworked, le sigh.) It's one thing to write a text fic, but it's a completely different beast to style the damned thing with AO3 skins while making it as legible and accessible as possible. I thankfully know how to code in CSS and HTML, but it took me quite a long time to create a custom skin template that I liked and could reuse while getting the look and feel just right for our idiotic boys and the overall Teen Wolf world. Texting and sexting is legit an art. There are so many ways to approach how to write a text because each person does that differently. There's also intention required when using emojis, figuring out how someone would react to things, and hell, even playing around with timestamps and timezones is important. A text fic isn't just about words. All the tiny details add up and make a new experience. I think I took a full week to QA this whole fic because I wanted the aesthetic to look good, and it was worth it! It was nice to make something for myself, which let me write dialogue and banter and a lot of fun things I normally wouldn't had this been a different kind of fic. Super grateful for having a Write-A-Thon sprint weekend, which motivated me to finish the bulk of this baby up. And when I think about it now, this labor of love was originally supposed to be an experiment for me to play around and learn more about coding intricacies. It was supposed to be a short Porn without Plot thingie (but uhhh, it's definitely Porn with Plot and Feelings because that's the way it is). 1-2k words somehow became 8k+ words. No regrets though. It has been a long time since I've felt good about writing something this long and doing something different than the norm. It has been such a blast coming up with all the texts in this fic, because they're humorous and spicy with the usual banter and sarcasm we love between Derek and Stiles. But hey, there's some romantic angst too (they might be texting and using words, but they could do better, of course). Anyway, I hope you give this a read when you have a chance. Enjoy!

#year of the otp #teen wolf #sterek #stiles stilinski #derek hale #MasturbationMidsummer #summerofcum2023 #teen wolf fanfiction #fic challenge #spicy #fic rec #self rec #my fic #sugareey

[queer-as-used-by-tolkien]

He's not visiting revenge upon those who rejected him, exactly, but...

Here's a little ficlet I found in my drafts. This is the second half and I don't know where the first half is, but I think it's understandable.

~oOoOo~

He's not visiting revenge upon those who rejected him, exactly, but he isn't going to worry if he hurts them in his quest. Through the Dream, he radiates resentfulness, and everyone learns to fear it. It seems directed everywhere. All these Dreamers, especially the Valiants, who had had nothing but scorn for him and his Wyld Hunt. He has no reason to care for them.

And everybody just sees him as a villain. Sylvari feel him through the Dream but have been pre-influenced by the fact he's a villain, and only see the anger, not the kindness behind it. They can tell he's lonely and say 'look, he's so evil he doesn't have any friends' instead of realizing it's the other way around.

He used to be afraid of his power because he didn't want to be like Zhaitan, but now that he's embraced it, he sort of… usurps Zhaitan's place, magically, so that now he rules the Risen, and turned against and killed Zhaitan. He never became corrupted himself; sylvari cannot be. But he could control the corruption.

He never cleansed Orr. He couldn't; his magic didn't work that way. Zhaitan's power was death, and even a new master didn't change that. Trahearne spent most of his time in on the continent, commanding undead, trying to build a safe space for those who weren't safe elsewhere.

And the whole time he's just lonely. He has only his necromancer minions and the Risen (and the line between them is incredibly blurry; are they his or were they once Zhaitan's? doesn't matter) for company, and even Caithe has turned against him.

Then the Commander comes along, a sylvari; they sees Trahearne in their Dream and everybody interprets it to mean that this young Valiant will kill him and end his menace forever.

The Pale Tree says it must be done, while weeping over the loss of her Firstborn, but Caithe's face is stony and she says she'd never known him, and that Trahearne is not her brother.

The Valiant believes it, but there's always something telling them something isn't right. They ignores it, but after first seeing him (and feeling him through the Dream) it grows stronger.

There is no hate in him, no cruelty, not even rage as many would explain it. Just anger. And pain.

The Valiant still trusts Caithe and the Pale Tree and everyone else.

The Valiant first sees Trahearne surrounded by Risen, directing them with gestures, in a pitched battle with the Wardens.

There is a confrontation between Caithe and Trahearne; she shows her emotions, for once, and screams at him. "You were supposed to cleanse Orr, not take the side of corruption!"

It's a long and slow process, the Valiant learning about everything. The fact he'd spent two decades in Orr already, trying, without success. The fact that most people didn't care even before he turned evil. Only Caithe had ever been genuinely happy to see him when he came home. How much home stopped feeling like home for him.

But… that is just his past. Everyone has a reason for going evil, but they must be stopped.

The Valiant doesn't try reasoning with him for a long time. Just fighting. Caithe had described Zhaitan, and corruption, and how sylvari could not be corrupted. This path had been deliberately chosen. The Valiant knew there was no compromise with corruption.

They found his camp one day, full of Risen under Trahearne's control. The Valiant and Caithe tried to sneak in and kill him. He was alone in his tent, and through the Dream the Valiant could feel… loneliness, sharp and bitter and painful. There was also fear. Those emotions made sense.

But it was the disappointment that gave the Valiant pause. They stood still and let themself feel. It was like a deep chasm, a pit of despair. Active. He was feeling these right now, alone in his tent. The disappointment and despair was an emotion that enclosed all the others. There was the anger and the resentment that everyone feared so much. Deeper, there was the loneliness and pain and fear that the Valiant had felt. Even more deeply, desperation, failure, and… self-loathing?

The Valiant wanted to pry more, but then Caithe revealed herself to Trahearne, and it was all washed away in the familiar anger, more strongly than the Valiant had ever felt before, nearly white-hot rage. Alongside it was the furiously boiling resentment, and a - strange sense of betrayal.

The Valiant quickly hurried to join the fight, and disdain appeared in the mix of Trahearne's emotions. Disdain and scorn. Was it directed at themself? The Valiant wasn't sure. Betrayal or no betrayal, nobody took dragon minions and went around raiding villages. People were betrayed all the time and handled it and moved on. There was no excuse for this. At least he seemed to feel shame for it, if that self-loathing was any indicator.

Trahearne snarled at Caithe; no, asked; he asked her how old the Valiant was, how long they'd conspired against him.

---

Trahearne had seen the Valiant before, of course. He knew who they were. Another Valiant. The Valiants, he knew, had mocked his Wyld Hunt, his failure, his dedication. They had spoken to him, never even trying to conceal their contempt.

Not as bad as Caithe, the one sylvari he thought would understand, but… it was still painful. The loneliess, the rejection, the scorn. How could they be sylvari, with the Dream, and have no sympathy? Now they feared him. Now they saw his power.

No. He was not here for them. He was here for the non-sylvari who had to work to feel sympathy, who valued it more highly.

So he disregarded them. All these Valiants, especially this one who had drawn Caithe's interest. That one must be even worse than the others.

But… a friend of Caithe's. The hollow pit of loneliness never left him. A friend who might have been his friend, if he'd just… lain down and taken it for another year or two. No. No, he could not have done that. He wouldn't debase himself that far.

~oOoOo~

Feel free to expand on this if you want! (Just tell me about it XD)

#gw2 #trahearne #caithe #sylvari #risen #zhaitan #valiant #wyld hunt

[enfrigginfuego]

2022 Fic in Review

I found this while I was looking for something else and decided to revive it for this year!

Tagging: @maryellencarter, @ysalamiri-queen, @called-kept, @tabbiewolfreblogs, @mistr3ssquickly, @dukeswonderousmenagerie, and @sempaiko! (Hi, SW friends, this is still @hixystix/@x-wing-junkie!)

So, for 2022, I have:

Total Number of Fics: 10 posted, 1 that will be posted, 1 I plan to write, 1 that might not get posted until the new year.

Total Wordcount: 158,099 (so far)

Fandoms: Lupin III & Star Wars: Rebels

Most Popular Fic (by bookmarks): At Sea (41 bookmarks)

Most Popular Fic (by kudos): Also At Sea (170 kudos)

Favourite Fic: Little Thefts, published 11/09

And below the cut, a month-by-month recap!

January

Nothing this month!

February

Morning Coffee: a short little Kalluzeb office AU ficlet! Pretty cute and fun to write, it was inspired by some @sempaiko art.

Ties That Bind: my first foray into multichapter Lupin fic, this is a soulmate fic that tries not to be a typical soulmate fic. After all, just cause you have a bond doesn't mean you don't have to work on your relationships, right?

Gimme Shelter: This was supposed to end up being LuZeni porn but just became a sorta sweet, sorta silly survival fic. Got to draw on my Wilderness EMT training, so that was fun.

March

The Last Prince: Part of my SPN/Rebels fusion series I wrote with Sempaiko! I wrote plot, she wrote porn, it worked well. :D

At Sea: Started in March, completed in May. This was my follow-up to Gimme Shelter and turned out to be a hell of a lot of fun to write. Because of course Lupin would tag along on Zenigata's vacation!

April

Resistance: So this wasn't intended to serve as a goodbye to the Rebels fandom, but it kind of did that anyway. I still love it, but I burned out a bit after 2 years, 58 stories, and almost a million words.

May & June

I was in a medicinal haze these months and got NO writing done. I was just glad I finished At Sea in time.

July

Smother Your Sorrows: This one is ALL @maryellencarter's fault for giving me an angsty prompt. It was an adventure to write because I was both thrilled to be writing again and challenged with characterizations and emotions I hadn't written before. Pretty proud of this one.

August, September, & October

I was working on Smother all these months!

November

Little Thefts: written for my friend @lots-o-doodles, who wanted something JigLup involving Jigen's purple shirt. It went more places than that, but it's cute and it's sweet and I have fun re-reading it!

Thief of Time: Still in progress! I actually wrote the first three chapters of this back in Jan/Feb, but it took me until November to figure out how to continue. If I can pull off this next chapter, I'll be as proud as I am of Smother.

Birthday Presents: Dashed off in a couple days for Jigen's birthday, this actually was the only smut I wrote so far this year!

December

Still to come: my Lupin holiday exchange fic, a LuZeni smut fic for Christmas (hopefully) and hopefully the end of Thief of Time!

#Susan memes #fic in review 2022

[stupidfatpenguin]

Grogu likes master Luke.

(Partially because he lets Grogu’s father come visit whenever he can, and partially because he lets Grogu keep a free reign of terror over the creatures in the pond outside the temple, but there are other reasons, too.)

Instinctively, from when they first met, from when Grogu first felt him, he had known that his master is someone special. Only someone very special could enter a place with so much fear and anger and despair and make the Force sing tunes of hope. There is a light in him, a place of good and wanting to do good that wells and overflows and makes the galaxy a little less dark of a place.

Master Luke is very different from the other masters—the ones Grogu can vaguely recall from a past that seems so far away now. His temple is different, too, and too large for the two Jedi it houses. But Grogu likes the training they do, likes the way he feels against his mind, assured and strong, and playful and exploring. Like he is learning with Grogu, rather than just departing a lesson.

He likes master’s flying, the acrobatics he’ll sometimes perform in his x-wing that makes Grogu’s stomach churn with excitement; he likes his astromech, and how he bickers and banters with it like they are family or very old friends, and how he convinces R2 to let Grogu ride on top of his dome head as they zoom around the halls; he likes how he asks Grogu to show him his favourite things and happiest memories, and how he ‘oh’s and ‘ah’s at the right parts when he shows him his adventures with father.

More than anything—more than sitting comfy in his master’s hood as they explore the jungle or getting to play in the pond until sundown, hunting down the largest and tastiest frogs with hunter-like determination that surely would make his father proud—he likes the understanding. Here, at the temple, there is no hiding anymore, and no suppressing what he hears and feels in the universe around him, no hiding what he can do. He is safe. With master Luke, here, he feels safe.

(He likes it even better when father is here because that means his father, too, is safe.)

His master is bright, and kind, and he listens, and he is all this even when Grogu does something he was not supposed to do. Whenever he reaches out for him, he reaches back, and he is warm, warm, warm.

So Grogu likes master Luke very much.

And, naturally, he wishes that he can make his master feel as safe and happy as Grogu is.

(Master Luke is not always happy. Often, he hides his pain and his own fears and loneliness, and Grogu knows because he had long done the same.)

There isn't much one can do when one is only very small, and his master is not as fond of the largest and tastiest frogs as Grogu is (even though he has shared with him memories of a time when he ate them often).

But there are some things Grogu can do.

The first time Grogu sees his master hurt is while they are out in the humid jungle, stacking stones and moving water with the Force. The stones come easy to him now, but the water is challenging in its formlessness. Master Luke is demonstrating a particularly difficult manoeuvre, creating fine, cooling mist out of pond-water.

There, where his shirt once covered his shoulders, Grogu sees the angry red and dark purpling of bruises. His ears flatten against his head, and he wonders how his master could have been made to suffer these injuries. He sometimes has them when he returns from off-world, from places that are probably dangerous—places he goes to so that they can all be safe.

This time, master has not been off-world, and these bruises are relatively small. The cause is likely the nasty, large mosquitos or meat-flies that sometimes find their way into the temple, if they’re not careful enough with the doors and windows.

Grogu vows to eat one the next time he sees one buzzing by.

He likes master Luke very much, after all.

Which is why it is so strange to Grogu when master Luke tries to stop him while he is healing his wounds.

“Grogu,” says his master, eyes wide in surprise and his own hand holding Grogu’s away from his neck—now back to its regular, healthy colour.

Grogu coos, askance. Not better?

“I—you didn’t have to…” master Luke pauses, turns a little, as if embarrassed for a moment. “Thank you, I mean. But I was doing just fine. You should save those powers for when they are truly needed, little one.”

Grogu’s head drops, and he feels unhappy for a moment. He had only meant to help.

His master must sense this, for he reaches out, warm and wonderful, and gives Grogu a brilliant smile.

“Some practice doesn't hurt, of course. But you don’t have to do that again.”

Grogu makes a sound of understanding, but he really doesn’t understand why his master would refuse to let Grogu heal him.

Some weeks the biting bugs are more vicious than others. Grogu makes good on his promise to exterminate every such creature he comes over, and even enlists R2 to his aid, incinerating the ones that Grogu misses.

Grogu luckily does not suffer so badly, and his father is so well protected that no insect could ever do him harm. Why are they so interested in master Luke? Perhaps some people, the ones that are good and powerful, like his master, simply taste better.

(Despite his master’s request that he doesn’t, Grogu sometimes, when seated conveniently in his hood or on his shoulder, can’t resist reaching out in focus, and watching in satisfaction as the skin there is healed and turned unblemished, even when master gives him very accusive stares when he discovers it later, although Grogu claims none of the credit.)

To Grogu’s great worry and frustration, the bruises keep returning.

It is only a day later, when father is holding him just after breakfast, and Grogu clearly spies more terrible bruises on master Luke—red and vicious and high on his neck. He reaches out, whines loudly. Perhaps father can help him convince his master to accept his help.

“Grogu? Hey, what’s wrong, kid?”

Master Luke immediately knows his intentions, but his face, inexplicably, slowly takes on a hue of red. To his father, he explains: “Ah, he… wants to heal me.”

“Are you hurt?” father asks urgently, and Grogu feels validated in his concern.

“No! No, I’m fine, he just, uh…” His face grows redder still. “The other day, he saw the… marks and… healed them. He thinks they’re hurting me.”

His father stares, eyes wide, and Grogu can feel his hand twitching and his body radiate a sort of embarrassment. “Maybe I should… stop doing that.”

Master laughs, smiles mischievously. “Maybe you should start leaving them lower.”

Grogu is suddenly confused. Had his father been the one to do this? Are his father and his master fighting? Hurting each other? He remembers that his father hadn’t been happy when he had tried protecting him when he had wrestled with Cara Dune, because she was “his friend”, but they had never wounded each other. Not like this. Were his father and master Luke, perhaps, not friends after all? None of this seemed to make sense. But he can’t allow them to hurt each other anymore.

So when his two most important people are suddenly standing a lot closer, and his father’s other hand touches his master’s neck exactly where he is hurt, Grogu gathers the Force around him and promptly pushes.

(And because Grogu likes master Luke and his father so very, very much, he is not that sad when he is not allowed frogs for dinner that night).

-

Tl;dr: Grogu wants to heal Luke’s injuries, but they are actually hickeys.

(This started as a ficlet about Grogu’s feelings on Luke, and suddenly became DinLuke whoops)

#dinluke #skydalorian #grogu #clan of three #salty writes #yeah uh sorry for the formatting Im on mobile #and also sorry for the mess siri can't spell #I forgot to apologise for the frog tropes #there is a lot of frog trope here

[dubiousculturalartifact]

Chapters: 5/8 Fandom: Agent Carter (TV) Rating: Teen And Up Audiences Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply Relationships: Peggy Carter/Angie Martinelli Characters: Peggy Carter, Angie Martinelli Additional Tags: Modern AU, Alternate Universe, Nurses, Fluff, Hurt/Comfort Summary:

"Please let me handle the cute one, this time?"

or, the one where Peggy Carter keeps winding up in Angie Martinelli's ER

#Agent carter #i wrote another chapter of my #inexplicably angsty #cartinelli #modern au #this was supposed to be a cute ficlet i wrote for a friend #from a writing prompt #and then i got frustrated by it #and then that friend turned out to be kind of an awful person and ditched me as a friend unceremoniously #even though we'd been friends since the first day of high school #so naturally i avoided writing it for a while because of that one #and then I dusted off the short little half-ficlets i'd already written #and then somehow it became this #it's going to be like 8k by the time it's done probably #eep

[witlessficcer]

The Archer and the Assassin 6

Note: This post is three short ficlets that emerged from the idea that Yelena is most definitely touch starved and that Kate, thought not a replacement for her sister, is a person she wants to love...not like a sister. 

As always, if you like what you read, please leave a like, comment, or reblog. Feedback is encouraged.

Drumming Fingers

Yelena rested in a twilight state, her head in Kate’s lap while her new girlfriend watched Ghosts on Paramount+. She could feel Kate’s fingers lightly drumming on her forehead and occasionally combing through her scalp soft and delicate to the touch. It felt so good. So simple. So…intimate. In the in between, she would hear Kate chuckle, even start, wanting to show or tell Yelena about what she had seen, but she would stop, lean back against the couch cushion, and continue her fingers walking over Yelena’s head and around her ears and down her neck. Goosebumps rose reflexively. She wondered if the archer even noticed. If she did, she kept quiet.  

 *****

What if… 

What if I were not an assassin and you were not archer?

I suppose we might never have met.

That is sad version. What if I am Russian exchange student staying at Bishop’s house?

I like the sound of that. We would be roomies and be sleepover pals for a whole semester.

Sleepover pals? What is this?

You really were sheltered, weren’t you?

Tortured.

Oh…yeah. Sleepover pals do all kinds of fun stuff. Pillow fights, spin the bottle, make jewelry, make out, make cookies, and tell secrets. Fun stuff!

Make out, eh?

It’s a coming of age thing. Or not.

What is your what if?

What I became Kingpin and were…still you?

I would have to kill you.

That is sad version.

I said stop with the Russian accent.

Oh! What if I am the President of the United States and you are the Russian Premier. I see a whole new meaning to diplomatic relations. World peace.

World piece of ass.

Yelena!

 *****

Upside Down

Yelena’s eyes opened and she smiled inwardly seeing Kate smiling. She was upside down, again. Kind of. She thought of Natasha and her heart ached for a moment before she looked at Kate and the ache went away. Kate was not Natasha. That was okay. Kate was Kate. It was still love. Still selfless like Natasha. But not like sister. Yelena suddenly felt like she wanted to share what she had done with Natasha with Kate.

“Have you ever been upside down?” Yelena asked, sleepily.

Kate looked down and her eyes sparkled. “You put me on a wire.”

“Not like that,” the blonde continued. “Like handstands or back bridge.”

“I used to do them all the time when I was a kid,” Kate said, glancing at the TV and back to Yelena.

“We should do back bridge,” Yelena said, raising her head from the archer’s lap and sitting up.

“You mean now?” Kate answered, pointing at the TV to indicate that the intrusion was not welcome. “Can it wait? The show is almost over.”

“Pause it. You will miss nothing.”

Kate pressed her lips into a pout as she relented and pressed pause. “Why are we doing back bridges now?”

Yelena swung her feet to the floor, sitting next to Kate. She leaned in and kissed Kate softly, but lingered on her lips. “Because When I was a kid, Natasha was broody older sister. I loved her so much. But was always sad. There was one time when she and I did back bridges together. It was like pivotal moment for me. I looked up to her, but I would not be sad. When she did back bridge, I felt like she saw me. Like she loved me as much as I idolized her. Perhaps she was just humoring me, but I don’t believe it. Maybe it won’t be same with you. But I am asking you to humor me. To see me in this way. It is silly, but I can not tell you how meaningful it is.”

“Okay.”

“Okay?”

“I heard you, Yelena,” Kate said, taking the blonde’s hand. “This is important to you. Let’s do it.”

Yelena nodded her head eagerly and stood up. She took a couple of steps to the left and raised her hands as she bent her kneed and went over backwards. Her hands pressed into the concrete floor as she looked up at her girlfriend. “Your turn.”

Kate nodded in acknowledgement and stood up, taking her two steps to the right.  In the same fashion as Yelena had, she threw her hand in the air, archer her back, bent her knees, and fell flat on her ass, never fully arching or following through with her head.

“So much for training,” Yelena huffed, her face pink. “I will show you stretches. You will get it.”

Kate stood and tried again, her hand hitting the floor at the same time as her bum.

“Hip thrust, Kate Bishop,” Yelena coach, still arched and holding.

“Third time is a charm,” Kate said, determined not to let her lover down. The third attempt was a near success, but her feet shot out toward Yelena’s face and she was on her bum again.

Yelena broke the bridge and twisted into a position where she was laying on her stomach with her elbows and her chin resting in her hands. “Third time was charming. Thank you for trying. To tell you the truth, when I woke up and looked at you, above me, watching stupid Ghosts. That was the moment. I was looking up. To you. To my girl on a wire.”

Kate had turned over and was face to face with Yelena, chin in hands, also on her stomach.

“I won’t let you down, Yelena,” Kate whispered. “I can do it. I want to do it.”

Yelena inched forward and kissed the earnest face or her girlfriend. “If you want to. Just know that you already did.”

#yelena belova #Kate Bishop #kate yelena #kate x yelena #marvel hawkeye #hawkeye fanfic #marvel mcu #the black widow #Bishlova #hawkeye 2021 #MCU fanfiction #fanfiction comments #fanfiction community #fanfiction etiquette #otp #the kind of love that makes me smile

[honeybee-babe]

Ficlet: Adam+Eric and Ruby+Otis on Another Double Date and Adam’s Allergies Act Up

(brief glimpse of Lily+Ola at the end)

Another cute/fluffy fic featuring sneezy Adam, this time with lots of cute Ruby bits! Canon compliant.

2,018 words

The second time Adam and Eric went on a double date with Otis and Ruby, they had decided to go to the park down the street from the Milburn residence for a picnic.

It was still September pollen count was manageable, so Adam thought he could handle it. He'd been meaning to stop taking his Claritin for the season and decided last night would be a good time. If he took them too much, he found that they became less effective.

What he hadn't been expecting was that Ruby would be wearing so much freaking perfume.

"You two excited to chat more about your terrible taste in reality TV?" Otis teased as he poured everyone a solo cup of pilfered red wine from his mom's pre-pregnancy stash.

"Most people like to stay updated on pop culture," Ruby said, flashing him a condescending little smile and taking a sip of wine.

"Plus, it's wicked funny!" Eric defended, elbowing Adam to get him to agree -- which he did, nodding before taking a long sip of his wine to try to cover up his nose twitching, indulging in a few scrunches in that time. He'd never had wine before. It was weird but oddly delicious. "We watch it together sometimes now. You should try watching it with Ruby, y'know it can't hurt to show some interest in the things your girlfriend likes.”

"I will watch the Kardashians when she plays Smash Bros."

"I am not playing a stupid video game, especially not one with a disgusting title like that."

"...what do you think Smash Bros is about?"

For some reason, the wine seemed to be making Adam’s nose more itchy. He set his cup down and rubbed at it a bit, while everyone else was thankfully too invested in the argument to notice.

He still hadn't sneezed in front of anyone except Eric, and even around him he still stifled, occasionally managing an half-stifle (well, more of a 3/4 stifle). This was just not an insecurity he could fully conquer overnight.

Unfortunately, the red wine was really setting him over the edge. Normally in this situation, he'd just excuse himself to the bathroom for a minute to go sneeze in peace and take his meds. Or if he really couldn't hold back in the middle of a class or something, he'd just find some time when the teacher wasn't looking to stifle into silence. He typically sat in the back so that wasn't an issue.

But unfortunately, he didn't have either of those luxuries at the moment. And it was a double allergen -- something he wasn't used to. Maybe now was the time for him to push his phobia a bit further.

Eric's explanation of the game and Ruby's unexpected curiosity and interest in it (maybe it was the wine talking?) proved another distraction, as he finally indulged in a silent stifle, turning away from Eric just in time.

As usual, the force rocked him to the side quite a bit, and his wine sloshed in his cup from the force, and Eric immediately grabbed it from him before it could actually spill, knowing there were at least two more coming (and Adam spilled shit on himself enough when he wasn't involuntarily and repeatedly convulsing). Thankfully, Adam managed to squash them both into silence too.

“Gesundheit,” Otis said casually as Eric and Ruby went on talking. Adam nodded his thanks to him as Eric handed him back his cup and squeezed his hand. He knew Adam was weird about sneezing around other people and he was glad that he was making steps to get over it.

The conversation dragged on, Adam offering little grunts and one word answers of agreement with Eric. Otis and Ruby (begrudgingly) agreed to try watching the show and playing the game, respectively.

Adam's nose was still itchy, but he could keep it at bay with occasional (and well-timed) rubs and sniffs -- and by avoiding the wine. 

All was well, until they started in on their pizza gluten free pizza. It really wasn’t that bad, and Ruby really appreciated that no one had made a fuss about it. Otis went to refill everyone's wine cups.

"Adam, you've barely touched your wine." he observed, seeming disappointed. “Usually you finish your drink before everyone else. Do you not like it?"

"No, uh. It's really good. It’s just, uh," Adam hesitated. “...wine gives me the shits sometimes, so. Probably shouldn’t risk it.”

Everyone exchanged a mutual look of disgust, Ruby in particular.

"Well, there goes my appetite.” She tossed down her pizza slice and went for another sip of wine. "TMI, much?"

"So, uh," Eric cleared his throat. "What about that assembly today, huh? Quite the disaster."

"I'd rather not bring Hope Hadden into my safe space, thanks.”

"This is your safe space?"

"Wherever there's wine and gluten free pizza, I feel safe." Just as Ruby said that, Adam took a rather large bite of his own slice, leaving a big splotch of sauce on his chin. Out of habit, Ruby went in with her napkin. It wasn’t her fault, she was used to cleaning up for her father, and he and Adam both radiated the same fuckwit energy.

"Uh... thanks?" Adam commented, a little bit embarrassed. Ruby's hand flew back down to her cup as soon as she realized her mistake, hiding her face in her cup.

"You trying to flirt with my boyfriend, Ruby?" Eric joked.

"No, it was just disgusting to look at!" she insisted, flushing a bit red, maybe not due to just the wine. "You should really invest in an etiquette class," she said rather condescendingly to Adam, who wasn't listening because he was gearing up for another sneeze. He’d been set off a second time, this time due to the unexpected proximity to Ruby’s heavily perfumed wrist.

He indulged in another triple, this time punctuating the first two silent ones with a more substantial half-stifle.

“hh’MPtsh! Fuck,” he vocalized on a heavy sigh in the aftermath. Eric rubbed his arm tenderly, which he’d been doing since the second sneeze in this set. Ruby and Otis shot each other a look.

"Babe," Eric started once he was sure that was it, removing his hand from Adam's arm to instead tilt the sniffling boy's face to him. He was clearly flushed and his eyes were a bit watery. "Did you forget to take your meds last night?"

"Uh, no. I didn't." Adam muttered, sniffling rather loudly. Sneezing in front of them was bad enough without Eric commenting on it, even though Adam knew it was from a place of love. "I stopped taking them last week, remember?"

"Why would you not take antihistamines before a picnic if you've got allergies?" Ruby asked, clearly unimpressed.

"The pollen count wasn't supposed to be high today."

"Well, clearly it is.”

"Actually, it’s not," Otis cut in, showing off his phone screen. "I just looked it up.”

"Are you getting sick, babe?" Eric asked, putting a hand to Adam's forehead. "You do look a little flushed."

"No," Adam backed away from him, swatting his hand away from him. He really did not do well with everyone staring at him. "It's, uh, I think it's the wine. It was, uh. It was kinda bothering my nose."

"Why wouldn't you just tell us that?" Ruby asked. "That's a much better image than you shitting yourself."

"I've heard wine can bother people with hayfever," Otis commented, taking the bottle and moving it away from Adam as if that was going to help. "But you haven't been drinking any. You sure you're not sick?" Otis asked, inching away from him a bit now. Eric had mentioned he could be a bit of a germaphobe.

"Uh, no. Not sick," Adam said, trying for an awkward little smile. "Just the wine... and I think Ruby's perfume, a bit.

There was a moment of silence, as if Adam had just said something highly offensive. Ruby tensed up the moment he said that.

"It is Ariana Grande," she defended. "And it's quite expensive!"

"Well," Eric said tentatively. "You are kind of wearing a lot of it.”

Otis shot Ruby a sympathetic little grin. Before Eric and Adam had gotten to his house, he had commented on it himself. Ruby embarrassedly admitted that they’d had to run in a mile in gym class today, and she hadn't had time to shower in the time between getting home from school and driving up to Otis’ house was because she had been literally bathing her own father instead. Hence, the perfume bath.

“It smells really good," Adam explained through a mouthful of pizza, “it just bothers my allergies.” He sniffled again for good measure and rubbed his eyes a bit.

"Your eyes are all red, love," Eric pointed out, rubbing his shoulder again. "Maybe we should go back to yours and get some meds in you."

"I've got some at my place, actually," Otis offered. "We could go back and watch a movie or something? Wine's almost done, and it is getting dark. Hey, maybe we could watch the Kardashians." He smiled at Ruby.

"And you can teach me Smash Bros," Ruby offered, returning his smile and then turning to Adam. "As long as Sneezy here is okay with it?"

"Y-yeah. I'm good with that," Adam offered, actually chuckling a bit at the silly name-calling, and turned to Eric. He was relieved that no one made a big deal about, and pleasantly surprised at how eager they were to accommodate him. You good with that, babe?"

"Of course.” Eric kissed him on the nose mischievously, thankfully not causing another fit. “My second and third favorite things."

And so they walked back to the house, Otis and Ruby chattering away and holding hands, passing the wine bottle between the two of them and taking swigs of it until it was finished, the latter getting increasingly less unpleasant to be around the tipsier she got.

Adam and Eric trailed behind, also holding hands, mostly quiet except for the latter occasionally commenting on how much of a lightweight the other couple in front of them both were. Adam sneezed silently a few more times as they walked. Eric, knowing how uncomfortable he still was about it, chose not to bless him and alert the others, but rather to squeeze his hand and shoot him a sympathetic smile each time, leaning his head on his sniffly boyfriend's shoulder as they made their way up the steps to the Milburn-Nyman residence.

Ruby showered, and put on one of Otis' t-shirts and a rolled-up, comically too long pair of his sweatpants. They'd never seen her without makeup before. She was somehow prettier this way. And also a lot more talkative.

Ola had Lily over, and they tentatively came downstairs to grab some crisps halfway into the group's chosen episode of Keeping up with the Kardashians (the Viagra one, of course -- what else would this group have chosen?). Surprisingly, Ruby was the one who asked if they wanted to join in, claiming she was getting “testosterone poisoning” from being around the three boys for so long. No one bothered to correct her and tell her what the term actually meant.

Adam got a little tense again when she explained to the two of them why they'd had to cut their picnic short and why she was wearing “loser clothes,” but he relaxed again when they didn't make a fuss about it either. Lily even said that perfumes bothered her too, sometimes. Who woulda thought?

But the party didn't really start until they started playing Smash Bros, which is how they spent the rest of the night -- boys vs girls, of course. Girls team reigned superior most rounds, mostly thanks to Ola's mad skills (and Otis and Adam letting them win -- Eric was way too competitive for that, of course).

All in all, it was a great night, and Adam walked Eric home feeling a little bit more comfortable with himself. That was a recurring theme with him, these days, after all.

#adam groff #eric effiong #otis milburn #ruby matthews #sex education #ro #eric/adam #adam/eric #effoff #ruby/otis #otis/ruby #sex education season 3 #sex education fanfiction #ola nyman #lily iglehart #lily/ola #ola/lily #adam groff snz #sex educaiton snz #sex education snzfic #snz #snz fic

[floating-in-the-blue]

I attempted a little belated Alex/Reggie bday ficlet for the lovely @madamecristal and I just hope you like it, hunny! As avertised, slight angst with cuddling ;D

--

“Really ... I’m so sorry, Alex.” Reggie let his head fall forward as he walked next to his friend, dragging his feet on their way to his home. “I know I set the notes out last night so I wouldn’t forget them, again, and I have no idea how I managed to do it anyway.”

“It’s okay, Reg,” Alex said with a sigh.

Reggie appreciated that Alex wanted to make him feel better but the fact that he wasn’t teasing him about his forgetfulness, throwing out a sarcastic comment, spoke volumes. It was probably just his consideration for Reggie that had him not visibly stressing out about losing even more time for his prep work for tomorrow’s math test. He’d missed the last lesson because of a dentist appointment and Reggie had promised to lend him his notes but ... well. Things were bad at home right now and Reggie’s memory went foggy and now his best friend might not get his usual straight A and it would all be his fault.

“I’m so sorry.”

Alex stopped abruptly, turning towards him with a frown. “Reggie. If you say you’re sorry one more time I might just murder you on the spot. And you know what? Then at least I wouldn’t have to take the test tomorrow because I would be arrested and I don’t think they have math tests in jail so ... go ahead, say it.”

He glared but there was a weird half-tired, half-amused glint in his eyes.

“I’m-- “ Alex raised his eyebrow, “rethinking how to end this sentence.”

When Alex broke into a laugh, Reggie felt a little better and smiled tentatively.

*

They should not have been home. They should not have been home or Reggie would never have let Alex walk here with him.

But they were. And they were hurling insults at each other. And plates.

One of them nicked his shoulder before crashing into the wall and only Alex’s fast reflexes saved him from more injuries by janking him to the side.

Reggie stood rooted to the spot, his adrenaline making a belated appearance, heart beating so fast it nearly drowned out his parents’ shouting. Because they hadn’t stopped. They hadn’t even registed that he and Alex had arrived.

“Pack your things, Reg. You’re not staying here tonight,” Alex growled out of the corner of his mouth, while eyeing Reggie’s parents warily.

Reggie hadn’t even noticed when Alex had moved in front of him.

He shoved past him, sighing.

“No, it’s okay. I’ll get your notes and then you can get out of here.”

“Reggie.”

They had finally spotted them. His father was frowning, and his mother looked just as displeased, though grimacing in a way that was probably supposed to be a smile.

“You didn’t say you were bringing friends over.”

“No. I ... I just forgot to give Alex some school notes. We’ll just grab them and he’ll be gone in a minute.”

Alex tugged him back to his side.

“We will be gone in a minute. As soon as Reggie has packed his things for the night. He’s coming with me.”

“Oh? Is that so?” His mom cocked one eyebrow, arms crossed.

“Yes,” Alex replied firmly, staring Reggie’s mom down.

“Oh, let the boy go.” Reggie’s dad waved a dismissive hand, as if it didn’t matter whether Reggie stayed or went. Which was probably the truth.

“Well, if that is what you wish,” his mom said, miffed but trying for indifferent.

Reggie didn’t answer. He let Alex drag him to his room so he could start packing.

What he wished?

He wished Alex didn’t have to see this. He knew about the fights. All his friends knew. But knowing and seeing where two different things and although he knew it was stupid, since they all said his parents were assholes, he didn’t want Alex to see them this way.

He wished he didn’t have to be dragged out of his home by his best friend because his parents were fighting.

He wished he could ask Alex to stay.

Instead, he was stuffing his pyjamas and toothbrush into a bag, accepting the fresh clothes Alex handed him, and punched them all so they would fit.

They were out of the house two minutes later, his parents already in the middle of the next fight.

*

“Shit.”

Reggie stopped two steps after they left the bus stop, and Alex came to a halt beside him.

“We forgot the notes! I forgot the notes!”

Alex chewed his bottom lip, swaying slightly where he stood, hands buried deep in the pockets of his jacket. Then he let out a sigh.

“Fuck the notes.”

Reggie’s eyes went wide and his jaw was definitely hanging open because not only did Alex rarely swear, he also was very diligent when it came to his school work.

“We could go back for them. Let me check when the next bus into town gets here. Can’t be more than a couple minutes, right?”

His left foot was already on the road when Alex’s hand on his arm stopped him, pulling him back onto the curb.

“You’re not going back there. Not today. I’ll be fine. You’ll definitely be fine. And it’s only a math test.”

Reggie gaped at Alex before narrowing his eyes.

“Who are you and what have you done to Alex? Because Alex Mercer never says ‘it’s just a math test!’“

Alex huffed out a laugh, tracing small circles into the dirt under his shoes.

“He does when there are more important things to consider.”

“Huh?”

Alex rolled his eyes before nudging him with his shoulder.

“You! Idiot! You’re more important than math to me!”

“Oh.”

*

Alex’s parents were not hurling dinner plates but they were not amused. Alex hadn’t had any of his friends over for the night ever since he’d come out to his parents and the way his mom was now narrowing her eyes at Reggie and her son made him squirm.

“You could have asked if we would be okay to have a guest over tonight, hunny.”

She didn’t raise her voice, she smiled, but Reggie could feel Alex stiffening next to him.

“I’m sorry, Mrs Mercer,” Reggie stammered and, turning to Alex, added: “I’ll go home. It’s okay.”

“It is NOT okay!”

Both Reggie and Alex’s mom took a step back and she had already opened her mouth to admonish her son’s volume but Alex didn’t let her get to that.

“They were throwing plates, Mom,” he pressed out through gritted teeth and Reggie really wished he hadn’t said that because he really didn’t need even more people knowing about that but at the same time, he was absolutely fascinated by the pure anger rolling off Alex. “So I don’t care what problem you and Dad have with it, he’s staying! We can keep the door open or I can sleep on the couch or whatever but Reggie stays!”

Mrs Mercer swallowed, considered Alex for a moment in which he made no signs of backing down, and then she nodded. She turned to Reggie and smiled.

“Of course you are, sweetie. I hope you like lasagna.”

Only after she had returned to the living room did the tension slowly bleed out of Alex’s shoulders and he nodded his head for Reggie to follow him up to his room.

*

Despite his words, Alex closed the door behind them immediately and slumped against it.

Reggie was already sitting cross-legged on Alex’s bed, staring at his friend.

“Thank you, Alex.”

Alex straightened up again, pushing his hair out of his face.

“Yeah, uh, sure. You’re welcome.” He pushed off the door. “What do you want to do now?”

They ended up listening to music and going over everything Reggie could remember from his notes and it was a good afternoon.

*

They’d dragged out the old inflatable mattress from the basement that had seen its fair share of band sleepovers. It had always been large enough for two boys, with the Alex sharing his bed with whoever was first to claim it.

Lying alone on the mattress was strange. Reggie wished Luke and Bobby were here but he was also kind of glad they weren’t. That it was just Alex and him.

Still, he couldn’t find rest, no matter how still he lay.

“You okay, Reg?”

Alex’s quiet voice eventually crossed over from the bed to the mattress on the floor.

“I didn’t pack my lion,” Reggie eventually admitted.

Alex was the only one who knew that Reggie’s stuffed lion still lived on the bottom of his wardrobe where he could grab it whenever he needed something to hug. It was an oversized toy that had been longer than him when he’d first gotten it at the pier and Reggie had always believed it would protect him when his parents’ fighting became bad.

“Oh.”

Reggie could practically hear Alex frown, his mind running through possible substitues he could offer Reggie.

“Can I ...,” Reggie licked his lips, teeth grazing over chapped skin. “Can I sleep in the bed with you?”

There was a disheartening long beat of silence that answered him and Reggie was already swearing at himself for being so stupid.

They hadn’t stopped cuddling and hugging after Alex’s coming out but there hadn’t been any sleepovers either. And his parents would definitely freak out if they found the two of them in bed together.

But then Alex’s hesitant words came floating out of the darkness.

“If you want? Of course, Reg.”

Reggie crawled out from under his blanket and padded over to Alex’s bed but hesitated once he reached it.

“Only if you’re okay with it?”

There was a small laugh and a hint of teeth, the light from the street lamp reflecting dimly off Alex’s blond hair.

“Yeah, come here, Reggie.”

Alex tugged on his pyjama leg and Reggie climbed in, already feeling relieved.

There was a bit of a wobbly rearrangement of pillows and bodies since Reggie preferred to sleep next to the wall and felt safest between that and Alex’s solid body. He dragged Alex closer until the taller boy was curled around him, holding him.

“Is that okay?” he asked, somewhat belatedly, the hair at his neck standing up at Alex’s answering chuckle, breath ghosting over his skin.

“Yeah. This is okay.”

“Good.” Reggie exhaled deeply, snuggling closer into Alex’s warmth, thinking about how he had stood up not only to Reggie’s parents but his own, too.

Usually, Luke and Bobby were the ones taking the offensive, Luke’s passion and protective instinct driving him forward, while Bobby kept a steadying presence by his side, and Alex made sure Reggie was okay. Today, though, Alex had gotten over his own anxiety. And all just because he had wanted to protect Reggie.

“Alex?”

“Hm?”

“You’re better than a stuffed lion. You actually roar.”

Alex chuckled again, holding him closer, lips moving against his skin.

“Only for you.”

Reggie smiled and reached for Alex’s hand, holding it until he fell asleep, feeling warm and safe and loved.

#ralex #alex mercer #reggie peters #jatp fanfic #jatp #phantomfloat #my writing

[seasonsofeverlark]

Adventus Everlark

Author: @mandelion82

Prompt: Special request: Everlark celebrates Advent by focusing weekly on hope, peace, joy, and love. [submitted by @hutchhitched​]

Rating:  T (for suggestiveness and a trigger) 

Trigger Warning:  Mention of physical abuse.  

Author’s Note:  This story will have both religious (Catholic/Christian) and secular elements. This is part 1 of a 4-part ficlet series. To be continued on A03 at a later date. Thank you. I hope you enjoy!  

______________

If Katniss knew anything about her boyfriend, Peeta Mellark, she knew he loved this time of year‒the Christmas season.  He loved everything about it; he was practically giddy as a child over it, and he’d been eager to share his traditions with her for some time.  Truth be told, Katniss didn’t always understand or share Peeta’s excitement for this time of year, but she loved to see it, and she loved him for it. 

Having grown up in a Catholic household, Peeta celebrated Christmas in the traditional Catholic way‒with Mass, prayers, and the lighting of Advent candles.  Of course, there was always a Christmas tree, presents, a big dinner, and tons of baking‒Peeta was a baker, and came from a long line of bakers, so there had to be.  

The Everdeens, by contrast, weren’t expressly religious; although, they were open to the possibility of a greater power in the universe, and they would partake in the typical holiday activities around this time of year.  Katniss had gone along with those activities for years, even tried to replicate them for her beloved sister, Prim, after their father died and their mother suffered from a crushing depression, but she’d never gotten the joy out of it that Prim did.  

Or Peeta.  

Peeta was a lot like Prim.  Maybe that was part of the reason why she loved him so much.  The two were kindhearted as they came and fresh as raindrops, both giving, loving, and selfless individuals.  Too good for Katniss, in her opinion.  They even looked alike, with their light skin, pale blond hair, and blue eyes.  Honestly, Prim looked more like Peeta’s sibling than her own‒she with her olive skin tone and gray eyes.  

Another thing Prim and Peeta had in common was their faith.  Despite growing up in a secular home, Prim held strong beliefs, similar to Peeta’s.  

For Katniss, faith was a challenge.  It required a great deal of trust and devotion, things which she’d always struggled to give.  At least, that’s how she felt about it.  But Peeta said otherwise. Peeta always said he saw Katniss for who she truly was, even if she didn’t see it herself.  He said he saw a loving and compassionate woman, dedicated to caring for and providing for her entire family.  

She’d argued that it was because they were family.  It didn’t make her compassionate; it was just the way it was supposed to be.  Directly after, she’d felt awful for her statement.  Families were definitely not created equal when it came to love and affection, and Peeta was proof positive of this. 

When Peeta first told Katniss about some of his childhood experiences, particularly his mother’s physical abuse, she was furious.  She couldn’t understand how he could have anything to do with his family, let alone uphold their traditions as he did, and she wanted nothing to do with them, either.  

Katniss had put off meeting Peeta’s family for that very reason.  Quite frankly, she wasn’t sure how she’d stand being in the same room as his mother.  If she even looked at him wrong, Katniss was certain she’d go off the deep end.  

But Peeta assured her that his family wasn’t all bad, nor had his home life been.  In fact, he’d mentioned a lot of good memories with his brothers and his father.  And regarding their holiday traditions, those were the ones he held closest to his heart.  

Peeta was so good, almost too good. 

If anyone could be a religious prophet come to earth, it would be Peeta.  But maybe she put him on a pedestal because she loved him so much.

No, Peeta was not perfect, and sure, he did things to annoy her, like the time he jokingly called her pure.  She’d gotten huffy about it and refused to talk to him for about two days.  In hindsight, her reaction was a bit extreme, but they’d made up, and then some.

Besides, if anyone was pure, it was Peeta.  

Not that he was a saint; there were certainly things he…bent the rules on, such as them sleeping in the same bed before marriage.  She was glad for that one, because she hated not sleeping in his arms. 

And Peeta felt the same.  

One time, after a particularly nasty fight with his mother over what she suspected to be an ‘improper arrangement’ between them, Peeta had told Katniss, “I don’t care if she thinks it’s a sin.  Now that I’ve slept with you in my arms, it’s impossible not to.  I’m not going back.”

“Sometimes you do,” she’d said cheekily.  Considering they weren’t ‘officially’ living together, she did occasionally sleep at her place.  

“I know, but those times are unbearable,” he’d responded, leaning in for a soft peck.  “If I had to do it all the time,” he whispered against her lips, “what kind of life would that be?”

Katniss concurred.  

Of course, the whole sleeping together thing had started innocently, when they were still just best friends.  It all began with Katniss’s nightmares…  

One night, after an especially bad one, she’d called Peeta, who lived in the same building, hoping he’d talk her to sleep.  On a whim, she’d asked him to come over, and she’d asked him to stay.  He did. 

After that, they shared a bed frequently, and it was all very innocent.  But the more they slept together, the harder it became to fight temptation, especially after revealing their true feelings for one another. 

It was sort of a mutual confession, but Peeta had been hinting at how he felt for a long time.  Then one night, in bed, he’d asked her directly, “You love me.  Real or not real?”  This was a little game they played.  

Without hesitation, she’d answered, “Real.”   

This would be Katniss and Peeta’s first Christmas as an honest-to-goodness committed couple, and they were both thrilled.  Peeta usually went to his family’s for Christmas, but this year, he’d said that he wanted to spend it with just her.  

And they’d decided to celebrate Advent together by focusing on hope, peace, joy, and love.     

Week 1:  Hope 

On the first Sunday of Advent, which fell this year on November 29th, Peeta taught Katniss about the lighting of the Advent candles, and they lit the first candle on the wreath, one of the purple ones.  Peeta explained that it was called The Prophecy Candle and symbolized hope and God’s forgiveness of man’s sins.  They proceeded to light it every night, together, and Katniss even prayed with Peeta, or at least remained by his side, holding his hand.  

Her favorite activity during the Hope week so far was when they spent an entire evening wrapped up in each other on the couch under the blankets, eating junk food and talking about their hopes for the future, their own wishes and those for their loved ones and all humankind. 

At first, Katniss had been fearful about speaking some of her own because she didn’t like to think too far ahead.  To think ahead was to ultimately be disappointed, in her mind.  She was so afraid that if she spoke aloud what she hoped for, as with one of those elusive birthday wishes parents talked about, it would never happen, or be taken away.    

But Peeta reassured her.  

Something else Peeta had been doing for Advent, which he hadn’t expected her to do was fasting.  It wasn’t a complete fast; he was still eating, but he wasn’t eating between meals or having meat on Fridays or any sweets.  

First, we fast; then we feast, was what Peeta had told her, referring to the period of penance and preparation leading up to the Christmas celebration.  

Peeta was being really good about it, so good that she worried he might waste away to nothing at this rate. And she liked a little bulk on his body.  Healthy and strong like an ox, that’s the way she liked him. 

Of course, she wasn’t making things easy on him.  

Katniss imagined it must be difficult for him to bake up all kinds of treats for her this time of year and not eat any himself, so she’d offered to fast with him.  But Peeta refused, saying he enjoyed the act of baking, which she knew, and that he enjoyed serving her.  She also knew that.  And naturally, he had to bring up her cheese bun and Christmas cookie addictions.  

He was right, though.  

What could she do but thank him and kiss him, then prop her head between her hands and watch him bake? 

As creepy as it might sound, she loved watching him.  She enjoyed seeing the muscles of his forearms twitch and pulse when he whipped a mixture.  And she enjoyed watching his long, pale golden eyelashes flutter in concentration when she got close while he read over one of his recipes (also when he sketched or painted).  

Presently, Katniss was seated on the edge of the counter watching Peeta boil fudge in a saucepan.  God, she loved fudge.

Peeta was multitasking today, so he also had a batch of cookie dough laying in wait in a mixing bowl.  When he looked over and smiled at her, she smiled sweetly back.  And then, partly to freak him out and partly because she wanted it, she scooped a bit of dough onto the mixing spoon and brought it to her lips.

“Katniss!”  He tramped over and smacked her hand lightly like a child’s.  

“Hey, watch it,” she said, grinning.  She’d been asking for it, though.  She knew Peeta hated when she licked the raw cookie dough batter.  Something about salmonella.  Although, she’d done it as a kid and never got violently ill from it.  

“But this was one of my traditions.”  She cocked her head and licked the very tip of the spoon in a seductive manner, hoping it’d get to him.  

It didn’t.  

Peeta simply sighed.  “Fine, go on and eat it if you want to end up in the hospital.”

Poking her lip out at him, she put the spoon down in its bowl.  He smirked over at her, then returned to the oven to check on the fudge.  After a few seconds he turned back, spoon in hand.  “By the way, trying to entice me while I’m baking isn’t going to work.” 

“No?”  She was honestly surprised.  

“Nope.  You should know that when I bake, I go into a zone.  And as you’ve seen, I have some self-restraint.”  He smirked impishly.  “But nice try.” 

Katniss pressed her lips together.  

“Don’t get me wrong, though.  I’m gonna carry the image of you licking the spoon with me the rest of the day, minus the unsafe cookie dough, and later…I might have big plans for you.”  He winked at her. 

“You mean big, big, big, big plans?”  Katniss imitated Miss Trinket, their ‘eccentric’ (to put it mildly) neighbor with the wild, colorful wigs and affected accent.  

“Yes, very big plans.”  

“Can’t wait.”  She bit down on her lip and reached for the spoon again as if her hand was magnetized.  

“For all that is holy, please stop eating raw cookie dough!” Peeta exclaimed.   

“Okay, okay.”  Katniss dropped the spoon back in, the corner of her lip twitching.  “But you might need to give me something else to snack on.”

“Will do, sweetheart.” 

With that, he walked over purposefully, placed his hands on either side of her face, and captured her lips.  Sofly, but insistently his mouth moved across hers, sending a pulsing sensation straight down.   

“How’s that?” he asked as they broke apart.  

“Hmm…you think a lot of yourself, Mellark.” 

He raised a brow then kissed her again, longer and slower.  

“Better,” she said, slightly breathless.  He began feathering hot, wet kisses down her throat, and Katniss sighed.  

With a low growl, Peeta gripped her hips, causing her to let out a small squeal.  He tugged her closer to the edge of the counter, and she wrapped her legs around his waist, pressing her pelvis into his.  She could feel his excitement growing, and just when she was sure he was about to carry her off and take her upstairs, he disentangled himself.   

“That’s self-restraint,” said Peeta smugly.  

Katniss felt like whipping a ball of deadly cookie dough at his head like a snowball.  “Tease.”  She groaned, shoving his chest.  “Sadist.” 

“No, masochist, sweetheart.  Trust me, this is a lot harder for me than it is for you.”  Katniss chuckled, and he pecked her cheek.  

Just then, Katniss’s phone began to ring.  She fished it out and took a look.  “Oh, that’s Prim calling.”  She hopped off the counter and prepared to tap the green button.  “Hey, Peeta, what do you think about inviting Prim over for Christmas Eve?” 

“Sounds great.” 

“Okay, I’ll tell her.”

#everlark #everlark fanfiction #winter #winter 2020 #mandelion82 #submission #prompt

[ghostiesblog]

Did the driver say go the other way and look for something better?

a Willie/Willex ficlet

tw: graphic descripition of a traffic accident, description of the effects of codeine

a/n: yikes, this is a lot. I’m full on projecting my chronic pain onto willie here and sometimes you just need to write a vent fic

---------

It was the cold of a rare winter day, biting into his skin. It was the hard stare that Caleb sent across the room whenever he was doing his job, sending his heart up into his throat. It was the regret, twisting his stomach.

 At least it was not the regret that Caleb wanted him to feel.

 Willie was supposed to regret sneaking away, regret chasing after Alex, regret telling the band everything he knew and betraying the only home he’d known since-

 Instead, all Willie regretted is unknowingly playing right into Caleb’s hands, even trusting the charismatic guy with a swaying cape and the captivating hand gestures of someone who lived and died to build a performance on lies, trusting him enough to expect him to play fair to ever give without taking, taking, taking.

Taking souls.

Willie regretted not seeing sooner what was happening. Not realizing what he’d gotten himself and what he was dragging his new friends into.

 He did not regret any of the things he’s done to remedy his actions. Even now, when he was feeling like he was dying all over again. When he was laying on the floor, staring up at the ceiling

 Well, staring was really saying too much since all he could see was whitened out patches on blurry on blurry on blurry.

Like awful black goo, the pain was spreading from his head down his neck, into his hands, his chest, his hipbone.

 It felt like, if he looked down, Willie would see dark red dripping from his fingers, leaking from his ears and building up in his eyes, clouding his vision like the pain was. His muscles sometimes twitched, almost as if there were tiny electric shocks attacking his nerves, challenging his reflexes (the reflexes that didn’t save him all those years ago).

 Like a burn mark, Willie could still feel the imprint of the impact that took him out, sent him straight into Caleb’s net with the taste of the bitter hot concrete still lingering on his tongue. 

 Willie’s life had ended with a loud crash and a yell, though he wasn’t sure who it was that had shouted when he shot out into the street, the wind in his hair and a laugh bubbling in his chest that got stuck when the truck he didn’t register in time rammed into his side.

 For a moment, he had felt nothing. Then the pain came rushing in, stabbing and burning, whitening out every other sensation he possibly could have. Since then, he hadn’t been without it.

The pain stuck around when Willie felt himself float away from the broken form on the pavement, when he was swallowed by black and spit out again on Sunset Boulevard.

The pain had been his only companion when he realized that no one saw him or heard him anymore, when the first lifer had passed through him and in the days (or weeks? months?) he had spent stumbling around disoriented, when he found that he could will his skateboard into existence as easy as nothing else was anymore, when he rolled through the streets that he used to frequent with his friends, it was always there, like a constant distress signal in the back of his mind.

 The first time the pain dulled had been when the mysterious guy with the top hat, who he had vague memory of seeing in a magazine of his mom’s, stepped into his path and put a gentle hand on his cheek.

 Caleb had introduced himself and told him about others like him, about a community, a place to stay if he’d only join him. Willie had been so drunk on the relief that he didn’t even ask what he was giving up in return.

 He remembered the day he broke his arm for the first time. He recently learned to skate and was itching to try what the cool kids at the skate park were doing. He was reckless, as always, something that his mother had scolded him about when he trudged back home, kicking his board in front of him and holding tightly onto his throbbing right forearm.

 They went to the hospital and when tears had started leaking out of the corners of Willie’s eyes, his mom kissed his forehead and called him brave and strong. His arm was put in a cast and they gave him painkillers to help with falling asleep.

 The codeine in the paracetamol had made him feel drowsy, like his head was filled with cotton and the world was far away. That was the way Caleb made him feel when he took away some of the pain.

 During his time at the club Willie was taught and worked. Caleb doled out his comforting, dulling touch freely during this time, with a heavy hand on the shoulder, a pat on the cheek, a straightening of the collar of his uniform.

 After a while he even earned the privilege of skating freely around the streets of Hollywood. At this point, he was too numbed out to remember that he didn’t need anyone’s permission for that before. Before.

 A rustle next to him made Willie start and he had the urge to push away, to scream, to hide how awful and rotten he was, until a heavenly cool hand slipped into his and held on tight, the first pleasant sensation he felt in what feels like eternity.

 Alex.

 “Hi”, he said in a low voice and Willie was thankful that he knew not to whisper, the sound too sharp for his sensitive ears during his episodes. He curled his fingers in response. A soft kiss to his temple felt like a relief, some of the tension leaving his face.

 Willie had never been looking for perfect. His mom had loved him, endlessly but she had told him early on that the world wouldn’t be kind. Back in his day, the way he looked was enough to catch some bad attention.

 He was determined to make the best of it. He skated without abandon, always a laugh and a whoop ready to burst out of him. He screamed, when it became too much. He screamed a lot, danced his heart out and broke into celebrities’ mansions despite it all.

 Knowing Alex and breaking away from Caleb made his world brighter again. More real, more present. The pain too, with all of its ebbs and flows.

 Willie turned his face towards where he knew Alex was without opening his eyes. He felt his boyfriend shift closer and then his hand, combing gently through Willies hair, soothing some of the fire that he felt in his body.

 When he drifted away into sleep, he knew it would be alright.

#jatp #julie and the phantoms #willie jatp #willex #alex mercer #might post this on ao3 if I like it enough tomorrow morning #basically everything hurst and i wish i had someone to hold my hand like alex does in this #fic

[supercalvin]

Hey! Hope ur well and thriving, if not that’s alright too, I just hope ur taking care of yourself in any case! I have a prompt I’ve thinking about for a bit I wanted to submit because truthfully I *can’t stop* thinking about it lol. Anyway I was imaging an 80’s au, Merlin and Arthur meet in Italy or like Greece and Merlin is just a local because his dad lives there and Arthur is visiting maybe for the summer (because he’s rich duh) and they have a lovely summer romance 😌

I want you to know that I thought of Mamma Mia before anything else and I will stand by that. Also, this was an excuse to put Arthur in dolphin shorts and a crop top because the 80s just be like that.

(Also thanks to @beacuzz-i-can for your help, you’re brilliant!)

Ficlets

***

Arthur had been allowed this one summer. After graduating, his father had allowed Arthur three months of freedom before he would sell his soul to Pendragon Corp. (His father had likely phrased it differently, but that was what Arthur heard.) So Arthur decided to pack up a suitcase and travel Europe for a few months. As for Uther, he didn’t seem to care what his son did, as long as Arthur sent off a postcard back periodically.

But unbeknownst to Uther, Arthur had picked up a dozen postcards on his train ride across Europe. Instead of going to Paris, West Berlin, or Barcelona like he had told his Dad, Arthur was headed to Greece.  Specifically a small island that most people didn’t know of and Arthur still couldn’t pronounce.

There, Arthur was going to find the beach cottage where his mother had spent most of her summers. Arthur hadn’t even known of its existence until he was eighteen. But when Arthur had mentioned visiting, Uther had practically burst a blood vessel. So he was going to send back false postcards and spend three months doing whatever he wanted, before he had to button-up and follow orders.

It took a few nauseating ferry rides and one dodgy boat to get him to the island.

As soon as he arrived, it was clear he was in over his head. The place was so small that everyone immediately spotted him as an outsider and jumped on him. When he explained in broken Greek why he was there, a group of locals immediately led him down the road, where Arthur found the cottage. It was crumbling and in horrible shape, but in Arthur’s eyes it was glorious. In his mind he could see it at it’s peak: sleek white stucco walls, balconies with mosaic floors, and rock steps leading to a rocky shore.

Arthur spent most of his first week there cleaning out the cottage and buying cheap furniture at a local thrift shop. The cottage became a funny little eclectic space. Arthur was slowly falling in love with it.

Arthur was working on fixing a door (he wasn’t anywhere near to a handyman, but he liked working with his hands and he was fairly proud of how well he had done so far), when he was interrupted.

“Hello?”

Arthur startled. He wasn’t exactly expecting guests. He was covered in sweat and dirt. He was in his dolphin shorts and a t-shirt he had cut at the waist. He wiped his brow and looked up to find a skinny young man watching at him.

“You must be Arthur!”

Arthur felt his jaw drop, “You speak English?”

The man grinned and held out his hand, “I’m Merlin. My mum’s Welsh, but I live here with my Dad. I heard there was a mysterious Englishman cleaning up this old cottage and had to come see it for myself.”

The man was smiling ear-to-ear. He was in neon pink shorts and a geometric print shirt that was popped open to reveal a hair-speckled chest. Arthur quickly lifted his eyes.

Arthur took his hand, “Arthur Pendragon. This was my mum’s cottage.”

“Ygraine,” Merlin said as it was normal for a stranger to say his mum’s name. “Everyone loved her. Well, I mean so I’ve heard.”

Arthur nodded, a little too overwhelmed to answer. Merlin didn’t seem to mind and continued to chatter. He tossed Arthur a soda that he pulled from his bag and then offered to show him around the island.

That was only the seventh day of Arthur’s visit and Arthur didn’t think he spent another day alone. Every single day Merlin would take him somewhere (the sandstone cliffs, the caves beyond the beach, and the best places to stargaze) or Merlin would give a helping hand as Arthur repaired the cottage (he was horribly clumsy and Arthur didn’t trust him five feet away from a hammer, but he made great company.)

Everyone on the island was a bit weird, but Arthur couldn’t tell if that was just because he was an outsider and he didn’t speak the language, or if he was just being judgment. One night, Arthur had mentioned it, after having shared a large bottle of wine between them, and Merlin had laughed and told him cryptically, ‘People of the sea don’t trust easily. But don’t worry, you’re safe with us.’

Arthur had brushed it off as drunken nonsense.

If only he had thought more about it. When August rolled around, Arthur started to become acutely aware that his time was coming to an end. He only had two more postcards on his desk (Barcelona and Madrid). He took in the room: the smell of sea salt, the cool air, and cluttered furniture highlighted by a orange sunset. On the sofa, Merlin dozed with his head pillowed on his own hands, wrapped up in Arthur’s wool sweater. Arthur’s heart tugged in his chest.

This summer was supposed to be about doing what he wanted before it was all taken away from him. Arthur’s heart hammered in his chest as he walked forward to kneel next to the sofa. Merlin shifted in his sleep, nuzzling into the wool.

Arthur ran a hand over Merlin’s brow. “It’s getting late.”

Merlin mumbled, “Don’t wan’ ‘o go.”

Arthur couldn’t resist, so he pressed a kiss to Merlin’s brow, “Your Dad would worry I’d stolen you like I was Hades. He already doesn’t like me.”

Merlin’s eyes flicked open suddenly and Arthur heard his breath catch. Arthur held his breath, unsure what to expect. Merlin didn’t seem opposed to such affection from a man, but it was so, so hard to tell.

Luckily, Arthur didn’t have to wait long, Merlin leaned up on his elbow and gave a sloppy crooked kiss to Arthur’s lips, which he eagerly returned.

Later, they laid in bed with the windows open to the ocean breeze, the sheer curtains blowing across them. Arthur ran his fingers over Merlin’s spine, where Merlin had a simple trident tattoo. Arthur had been surprised by it, but hadn’t said anything, too wrapped up in getting his hands on Merlin.

Now he was lying there, trying not to think about how many days he had left (18), or how right it felt to have Merlin by his side (Arthur was fairly sure he was desperately in love already) or how the cottage felt like home (far more than Uther’s manor ever did).

“Arthur…”

Arthur startled as he hadn’t realized Merlin was awake.

“Yeah?” he whispered, pressing a kiss to Merlin’s hair.

Merlin’s fingers traced over Arthur’s chest nervously.

“What is it?”

“You know how you said the folks here are kind of strange?”

Arthur nodded, not sure where this was going.

Merlin sighed and lifted himself so that he was hovering over Arthur. Merlin stared down, evaluating Arthur for a long time. Arthur let him, not sure how he was meant to pass this test. Arthur lifted his hand and cupped Merlin’s jaw, tucking his fingers behind Merlin’s ear.

Merlin smiled and leaned down for a kiss. “It’s complicated.”

“I can deal with complicated.”

Merlin laughed, as if skeptical. “Everyone on this island has this birthmark,” Merlin gestured to his back, and Arthur realized the marking wasn’t nearly dark enough to be a tattoo. It was a dark brown, rather than the green-black of ink. “It’s a mark of nereid. Do you know what that is?”

“Like Achilles’ mother? In the myths?”

Merlin nodded, “We protect the sea and the people who travel on it…I know it sounds mad…”

Arthur’s face must have shown his confusion because Merlin sighed and sat up in bed. Arthur followed, reaching out to stop Merlin from running away (he didn’t think he could bear it). Instead of leaving, Merlin reached out his hand to the glass of water sitting on the bedside table. With a flick of his wrist, the water formed into a glob and rose in the air.

Arthur blinked at it and then at Merlin.

“You’re a mermaid.”

Merlin looked offended. “Nereid!”

Arthur smiled, “Merman?”

Merlin splashed the water onto Arthur and so it was only right that Arthur tackled him back into the bed, their laughter filling the entire cottage.

(Later Arthur would send off one last postcard, telling his father to go shove it and that if he wanted to speak to him, he was starting a bed and breakfast on a small Greek Island with his new boyfriend.)

***

Ficlets

#merlin fic #merthur fic #merthur #ficlets #look idk if this is a mamma mia 80s au or if this is some weird greek myth au #its both #take it i guess #lol #dolphin shorts arthur #thewickeddays

[bisexualsforprompto]

Jealous Adrien (Damianette) Ficlet

Because I’m weak ;) (Based off my headcanons post)

“Hey Marinette!” Adrien grinned as he walked into Miss Bustier’s room. He turned to greet Alya who usually sat next to Marinette but instead of seeing the redhead he realized in horror that another seating frenzy had happened. Nino and Alya were sitting together and in Alya’s place next to Marinette was a handsomely tanned midnight haired boy with smouldering green eyes.

Adrien wasn’t stupid, he knew through his father that the boy next to Marinette was Damian Wayne hier of Bruce Wayne. He had met him once on occasion.

“Hey Damian.” He greeted. Damian gave him a nod of acknowledgement, “Agreste.”

“You guys know each other?” Marinette squeaked.

“Yep! Our dads-“

“My father his done business with his.” Damian said dismissing Adrien.

“Right.” Adrien laughed sheepishly. “Do you know Damian, Marinette?”

“My parents catered for the Wayne Gala a while back, so we met then!” Marinette beamed.

“Marinette made very adequate company.” Damian continued, fighting a blush on his cheeks. Marinette turned tomato red.

“Uh...Okay then! See ya later Mari, do you know where I’m sitting?” 

“Yeah, in the back, Lila might try to sit next to you but she’s supposed to be next to Nath.”

“O-oh.” Adrien said realizing he would be sitting alone. Marinette smiled apologetically at him. That brought a smile to Adrien’s face, Marinette’s smile was infectious.

He went to sit in the back, he felt content knowing that he’d be able to catch up with Marinette during lunch.

Marinette wasn’t at lunch. According to Alya she was catching up with Damian. But they sat next to each other all class Adrien whined in his head. He wasn’t sure why he was so bothered all he knew was that he wanted to spend time with Marinette.

He spent the following weeks reliving the same thing over and over, he wanted to spend time with Mari, she was with Damian. 

It wasn’t until Nathalie was checking his Chinese work that Adrien remembered that Marinette had always said how she wanted to learn Chinese, he could spend time with her that way!

He had it all planned out in his head, he’d go up to her before class and ask if she wanted to get together after school to work on Chinese, it seemed simple enough but for some reason he was a nervous wreck and every time he felt himself start to sweat on the way to school he heard Plagg stifle a laugh.

When Gorilla pulled up to the school Adrien was ready.

“Hey Mari!” Adrien exclaimed as he ignored an annoyed Damian next to her, “I was wondering if you wanted to work on our Chinese lessons anytime soon.”

“No need,” Damian said, “I speak fluent Chinese and I’ve been helping her.” Marinette blushed.

“Thanks again Dames.” Adrien swore he saw Damian bite back a smile and hide a blush. “Don’t mention it.” He grumbled. Marinette giggled which caused Damian to frown.

“What?” He asked.

“N-Nothing.” Marinette Said choking back a laugh. Adrien sighed and walked to the back of the class, it was like he wasn’t even there.

The more it went on the more Adrien started to dislike Damian. He had no idea why, his good friend got a new friend, it shouldn’t have bothered him, but bother him it did.

“Hey Alya,” Adrien groaned.

“Hey Adrien, what’s up?” 

“Well I had some questions…” Adrien said, “Uh- about Marinette...and Damian.”

“Oh...Well shoot!” Alya said nervously.

“So...Do you- well- I was wondering,” Adrien sighed and then blurted, “Why is she only spending time with Damian and no one else?!?!”

Alya laughed. “Somebody’s jealous.” Adrien started to protest but Alya cut him off. “Well here’s the scoop: Marinette and Damian have been hanging out a lot and I know for a fact that Marinette likes him- as in a crush- and she might ask him if he feels the same way. I bet they’ll be a couple by the end of the week.”

“O-oh.” Adrien was taken aback.

“Why so glum? Aren’t you happy for Marinette?” Alya said in a baiting tone.

“O-of course. Well, thanks Alya, bye.” He said hanging up.

“That poor boy really is oblivious.” Alya said to herself as she got ready to help Marinette ask Damian out.

“Plagg,” Adrien sighed flopping onto his bed, “What's the deal with Damian? I know I don’t like him, but I don’t know why.”

“Well kid I think the answer’s kind of obvious.” Plagg said as he shoved a piece of Camembert in his mouth. He swallowed and then continued, “You have a crush.”

Adrien wrinkled his nose, “I don’t think I love Damian-“

“Not on him kid,” Plagg said exasperated, “On the baker girl.” Adrien cocked his head, “Marinette’s just a friend. Besides, I only have eyes for Ladybug.”

“Uh huh, sure. Keep telling yourself that.” Plagg said rolling his eyes, “Isn’t it time to patrol with your Lady?” 

“Oh yeah I guess it is.” Adrien said, still lost in thought, “Plagg, claws out!”

He landed on a rooftop with great precision as he saw Ladybug come into view. “Hey Ladybug.” Adrien said, “Everything’s in order with my side.” 

Ladybug nodded, “Mine too. I have to get going soon, but-“

“Wait!” Chat Noir said running towards her, “Can we talk really quick? It’s important.” 

Worry flashed across Ladybug’s eyes, “Sure what is it?” She asked as she sat down on the roof motioning for Chat to do the same.

He took the invitation. “Well there’s this girl...and well lately she’s been spending a lot time with this guy. Don’t get me wrong, I’m happy that she has a me friend but I miss my friend. She’s always busy with him now.” Ladybug nodded. “The guy she hangs around...well I don’t like him, but I don’t know why I don’t like him. I just feel like he’s hogging her, you know? And one of my friends said they might start dating...” He huffed.

Ladybug burst out laughing. “Hey!” Adrien exclaimed.

“Sorry,” she said as she stopped her laughter, “It’s just, it’s obvious you have a crush on her. Come on: you don’t like the guy she’s spending time with, and you want to spend more time with her, even the way you talk about her makes you seem like you like her.”

“That’s what my kwami said.” Chat Noir chuckled.

“Well they are tiny gods, maybe you should’ve listened to Plagg.” Ladybug said.

“But Mar- she’s just a friend.” 

“Why is she just a friend?” Ladybug asked.

“Well- I-“ Chat Noir scratched the back of his neck.

“Looks like you have things to figure out Chat Noir,” Ladybug laughed as she yo-yoed away.

“Maybe I do…” Adrien said as he watched the red clad superhero retreat.

Chat Noir was deep in thought as he bounded across the rooftops of Paris. Could he really have a crush on Marinette? He entertained the thought.

What did he like about Marinette? Marinette...whose smile could light up a room, whose eyes crinkled when she laughed, whose face got so adorably red, who was so beautiful ...and he had a crush on Marinette Dupain-Cheng.

Adrien sighed as he leapt across Paris, he realized he had subconsciously drifted towards the Dupain-Cheng bakery.

Well...maybe that was good. Maybe he could ask Marinette as Chat what the deal was with Damian. Alya had said Marinette liked him, but maybe Damian didn’t feel the same.

Adrien sighed, it wasn’t likely, Marinette was so pretty and smart and awesome, any guy would’ve been lucky to have her. 

Adrien felt a twinge of jealousy rising in his stomach as he scampered towards Marinette’s balcony.

He heard her before he saw her.

The adorable laugh that sounded like musical notes.

“Just teasing Princess.” Said a fairly tall black haired man with blue eyes.

Adrien felt another stab of jealousy at the man who’d called her “princess”, not only was he being replaced in Marinette’s life as Adrien, but also as Chat Noir too.

“But you probably will be our little sister soon.” Said a taller man to Marinette as he ruffled her hair. “If Little D finally gets some courage.” 

Marinette blushed.

Adrien recognized them finally, the other Wayne boys, Jason and Richard, standing next to them was Timothy and Damian, who looked like he was about to commit a murder.

“Yeah, when are you gonna ask Princess out?” Jason teased at Damian. Adrien felt another pang of jealousy.

Damian grumbled out a response but Chat didn’t hear it, he was already running back home.

The next day he started fresh. 

It might be my last chance Adrien thought bitterly as he carried flowers with shaky hands into DuPont.

He scanned the school for Marinette, his eyes finally locked on her and his feet moved on their own accord.

With every step he felt more unsure.

Then he remembered what Kagami has said to him once,

“I’m going to tell you the same thing I told Marinette,” she had said right before they broke up, “Your hesitation is what’s causing these problems. When you finally figure out what you want, it might be too late, I never hesitate.”

Adrien breathed in and out as he walked closer, no hesitation. His breathing became shaky as he finally walked closer to Marinette.

She was a vision. She was wearing a dress that was an homage to the American superhero Robin, and she was giggling beautifully again.

Adrien felt his heart sink.

Next to her was Damian. He leaned in to her.

No, Adrien pleaded silently as he walked faster.

He whispered something in her ear.

Oh kwami, no

Then he leaned in more, and kissed her.

Everything happened in slow motion.

Adrien clutched his flowers tightly and felt tears start to fall.

He felt so much despair.

“I’m sorry Plagg.” He whispered softly as he let his ring fall to the ground and welcomed a black butterfly into his flowers.

“Brise-coeur, I am Hawkmoth.”

@northernbluetongue

@queen-of-the-trash-planet-tm

@luciferge

@legendaryneckjudgestudent

@interobanginyourmom

@beaversuenightly

@worlds-tiniest-spook-pastry

@mochinek0

@shamefullove

@emjrabbitwolf

@actual-disaster-human

@littleredrobinhoodlum

@elijahcoser

@daminett4life

@18-fandoms-unite-08

@kawaiigiantjudgefish

@myazael

@kass-is-weird

@dramatic-squirrel

#maribat #yeah im evil i know #my poor cat boy