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aceofnace · 10 months

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Nace is truly my biggest ship loss. I was baited into watching this show for them and they have only 1 real kiss and might not even get together until the last minute. 0/10 would not recommend.

Hey, Anon, I feel your pain! I'm not counting it as a total loss just yet, because who knows what the remaining 4 episodes have in store for us, but I do understand the urge to consider them a loss. Why? Because think of all the things we could've had with them and most likely never will:

-Slow dances. Nancy's had them with two love interests, Park and Tristan. Ace had one with Laura. Slow dances are a staple for any good ship. They can be romantic. They can be angsty. They can be tension-filled. They can just be sweet and cute. And Nancy and Ace have danced together zero times in the four years we've known them (about only 7 or 8 months for them). Now, am I hoping there will be a flash-forward epilogue scene in the finale of Nace on their wedding day slow dancing with each other as newlyweds? Or maybe dancing together on their first trip to Paris during a sunset? Absolutely! Do I think we will get either one of those? Of course not!

-Dates. Could you imagine how AMAZING Nace dates would've been? Just the two of them out to dinner. Or having a nighttime picnic under the stars like Carson and Kate. Or hell, even just them sitting in the front seat of Florence while on a midnight stakeout trying to catch Chunky Velez. Nace dating era would have SERVED.

-Fun, flirty moments. Quick—name the last time Nancy and Ace flirted with each other. Or, rather, name any time Nancy and Ace flirted with each other. They never have. But had we gotten to see them in a relationship, they would've been flirting all the time. I could just picture Nancy sitting on Ace's lap while he's hacking. Or her lovingly teasing him over every little thing he does. Or the two of them acting so over-the-top in love with each other in front of George to annoy the hell out of her. I would've loved to see flirty Nace, because it would've involved lots of smiling and them being HAPPY.

-Kissing. Lots of kissing. I can see why Nancy referred to her kiss with Ace in 4x03 as the best kiss of her life. It was EPIC. When Nancy and Ace's lips meet in a kiss, they are both ALL IN, whether it be in a dream or real life. Those two certainly know how to kiss, but mainly just each other. After observing them kissing their other LIs throughout the seasons, you can see a major difference in how they kiss others vs how they kiss each other. And while I'm certain they will have one more kiss, maybe even two, before the end, it won't be enough. Because as much as I love epic kisses (and I think their last ones will be that), I also love the simpler ones. The forehead kiss. The "see you later" peck on the lips kiss. The kiss on the cheek. The kiss on the chest before getting out of bed to go get breakfast. I would've given anything for a whole season of Nace kisses as they tried out every single kind. How sweet would that have been?

I could keep going, but I won't because I'm making myself sad. We could've had it all, but instead we'll be left with next to nothing in the end. And it breaks my heart. Now, whoever "baited" you into the watching the show I'm sure had no idea things would end up this way, so definitely don't blame them! I've been with this ship since the day the show premiered in 2019. And personally? I don't regret loving them, no matter how their story ends. I do think you should wait 4 more episodes before giving it your final "recommend" rating, but sadly it probably won't make much of a difference. Nace will most likely be rushed at the very end. We'll collect our endgame but have very little to show for it. I'll still always love them, though, and they will continue on after the finale to live a long, happy life together in my head, and that's gonna have to be good enough for me.

#sorry my response was so long #i have lots of THOUGHTS #many of them not good #many of them make me mopey #oh well it is what it is #nace #nancy x ace #ace x nancy #nancy drew cw #asks

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aliensunflower-fics · 11 months

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How much salt do you think a salt fic should have before it becomes too unpleasent to read?

Hmm this is a tough one. Because the answer will vary a lot person to person. As you can tell I personally tend to write at least what I consider to be very low to sometimes medium sodium content. However I have gotten hate anons on occasion who seem to see my writing as ‘insanely salty’ (there words) so the definition REALLY varies.

Also while I write low to medium salt because thats what I prefer / feel comfortable writing. I have read on occasion some much saltier fics so I’d say I have a decent appreciation / understanding for some of the more angsty stuff.

So for me personally I start to draw the line when the salt starts to drop off into the realm of PHYSICAL like I’m fine with A slap or A shove heck I’ve read fics where Lila shoves Marinette down the stairs because it was not written too graphically and Lila was punished fairly, but when it starts becoming full gang beat ups, or non-consensual stuff I tend to dip out.

I also tend to avoid reading fics where Alya is turned into the ‘stereotypical crazy violent black woman’ like if you wanna write some angsty friend betrayal no problem. or you wanna write some Alya being overly pushy sure why not. But the second you start writing Alya as this hyper violent hyper aggressive attack dog with 0 restraint well I’m out.

So basically I draw my personal limit at the salt that dips into hyper aggressive physical stuff and I do mot touch non-con with 20ft pole.

#its just me #miraculous ladybug #lila salt #adrien salt #alya salt #miraculous ladybug salt

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hazelnut-u-out · 2 years

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HERE YOU GO, ANON :)

i'm writing these in order, so i promise i'll get around to everyone's eventually. there's nothing better than logging on and seeing more prompts in my inbox. i literally start geeking.

thank you guys for sending so many in! requests are still on the table since i have some free time on my hands with the hiatus.

anyway, i was gonna make this one super angsty, but i HAD to put some comfort in there. my boys deserve a break, don't you think?

morty has a nightmare and can't find rick o-0

3263 words

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This place was a fucking maze of screens and metal- of whirring lights and sounds.

Morty was uncomfortable on the unfamiliar upholstery of the ship. He wasn’t sure where Rick had gotten it- somewhere from his grandfather’s original dimension, the boy assumed- but it somehow seemed both less advanced and hastily put together than the one he was used to riding in. The seat was scratchy on the back of his arms- his palms sweaty from their position on the steering mechanism.

He could barely inhale. There was too much going on.

The blue lights surrounding him were alive, worming their way into the ship and swarming his head with the answers to questions he hadn’t even known he’d harbored before now. The voice of the other Rick- his real grandpa? - was its own breathing entity. If his very existence was wrapping a tight cord around Morty’s neck, restricting his ability to breathe, he couldn’t imagine how Rick felt in his presence.

He could still feel Rick’s body engulfing him moments before. Morty had been scared at first, petrified of the kill bots. He felt silly for it now. He probably didn’t even have to crawl to Rick’s side. Rick wouldn’t have let them touch him- didn’t let them. He offered up his own body as a shield almost as if it was second nature.

He supposed it was.

Morty had closed himself off within the ship. Safe. He knew Rick knew that much.

He watched his grandfather leap and glide through the endless onslaught of combat as if, at the very core of his being, he was engineered for this exact encounter.

No- it was more like he was engineered for something else entirely, and this man- this Rick- had taken it all away from him.

Morty knew he was stupid- he wasn’t gifted or bright; he could never hold onto the flow of what Rick was saying. He was aware of his uselessness, his sheer replaceability, but he’d also seen enough in his short life to know where this was going.

He could hear his moms’ voices through the speaker on the ship’s dash. They were in danger, they needed him.

But so did Rick.

Rick needed a reason to leave; to give this up; to fucking survive.

Morty shakily pressed the button to open the glass shield that encompassed him.

“My moms are in danger!” he shouted, his throat on the verge of closing up; of failing him. He felt his voice wobble with panic as the words tumbled from his lips, watching Rick down another kill bot with sinister fluidity.

“Those versions of them are,” Rick spat, not even bothering to look back.

What the fuck? No. He had to get him out of here.

He knew Rick was aware of what this really was- so, why? Why was he even bothering? Rick was the smartest man Morty fucking knew- in the whole goddamn universe. If Morty had pieced it together, he knew Rick had.

That’s why he wasn’t sure of the exact reason his next words flung themselves from his mouth. Maybe they were more of a desperate plea to get Rick to come along; to appeal that part of his grandfather that was nothing more but a slave to logic and calculation- maybe even an attempt at rattling that speck of Rick that feared the unknown.

The after.

The absence of God.

C’mon, Rick… Weigh the odds.

“We gotta save them!” He begged, pulling the ship up to hover above the platform. “Rick, this is an obvious trap. If you go down there, he’s just gonna kill you!”

“Good,” Rick hurled back, throwing his body forward, two more bots pitching downward by his sides as he landed knee-first on a slightly lower platform.

If Rick’s comment about his mothers had stabbed Morty in the gut, that single word was the swipe that flayed him. He felt his innards falling to the ground, and he scrambled to pick them up- to shove them back inside and find somewhere, someone, to stitch him back up.

“What?!” Morty asked, tone laced with bewilderment.

This was the same man who just put himself on the front line in favor of Morty- who tucked him beneath the haven of his spindly frame and was willing to be sliced in half with a laser if that’s what it took to keep Morty alive for even a brief moment longer.

Now, he wanted to talk about the insignificance of a human life?

He wanted to die?

Morty wasn’t going to let him lay down and give up that easily.

He brought the ship back down to land on the platform, turning to open the door but- but suddenly, he was trapped. He was no longer inside of a ship, but a tight glass box with no way out.

He watched his grandpa near that glass tunnel. He watched the elder jump down.

Morty desperately punched the glass; kicked at it; threw his body against it, but- nothing.

Shit. Shit. Shit. Shit.

“RICK!” the boy shouted, feeling his knuckles split open as he punched the glass with more fervor; his words like blades sawing at his throat; his blood smearing along the invisible barrier that separated them. “RICK, PLEASE! PLEASE D-DON’T DO THIS! FU-FUCK YOU, R-RICK! I-I-I NEED YOU, GRANDPA! PLEASE!”

Morty couldn’t breathe. It felt as if a rubber band had been wound around his chest. Tears and snot poured from his little body as if he was nothing more than a broken faucet and he fell to his knees.

Fucking useless. Broken. Pathetic. He couldn’t save him.

He braced himself on his hands, shaking with holding up the weight of his body without enough oxygen.

His vision went blurry, and he knew his grandpa was dead.

He was next.

Morty shot up, taking in a deep gulp of midnight air as his eyes darted open. He brought his unsteady hands up to claw at his neck in the darkness- his throat was so dry- as he kicked and cursed at the blanket that stuck to his damp form.

It was a dream, he told himself. A dream.

Eventually, the boy steadied. He looked around, eyes now adjusted to the obscurity of the room, and let himself gradually trust that he was home; in his bedroom.

Light seeped through in a sliver from his doorway.

He’d asked Rick to leave it cracked. The elder insisted on putting Morty to bed every night since, making sure his room was up to par with the latest addition to his “protocol.”

“Just in case,” he’d assured Morty. “He doesn’t care. He’s n-not gonna come for you, buddy, b-but I’ll be fu-fucking damned if he- if that bitch tries.”

His ragged breathing steadily morphed into deep, concentrated breaths- his heart slowing down from that persistent pounding to a stable thrum.

Morty wasn’t sure why he did what he did next, because never- in all the time he’d known Rick- had he ever extended any comfort towards him. Despite every fiber of logic in his being telling him it was a fruitless endeavor that would only end in more distress, Morty placed his feet on the soft carpet of the floor and stood.

Maybe he just needed to know that Rick was alive; still there- a corporeal being that could walk and talk and breathe.

As he moved through the hallway, the house was still and quiet. Not an inkling of the typical humdrum of life stirred inside, as if in a defiant stance to the overhead light of the hallway giving the corridor a façade of insomnia.

He flinched at the cold biting into his feet from the hardwood flooring, pushing himself upward to instead walk on his tippy-toes until he reached the bottom of the stairs.

The evening hung low on the bottom level of the home, threatening to absorb Morty until he was nothing more than an aura, too- floating around in that liminal space between the known and unknown.

Morty had never been a fan of the dark. It held too many questions and yielded too few answers.

He’d disliked his grandfather for being the exact antithesis.

Rick and the night were like yin and yang- taking and giving in opposite natures- but Rick loved to punish himself. Morty wondered if Rick knew his grandson saw the way he’d let the night pull the thoughts from his head and then hurl them back into his aging flesh as if they were daggers.

Morty wrapped his arms around himself, the night air rousing goosebumps along his sweat-laced skin- but a part of himself knew it was to hold himself together.

He gently padded his way to the doorway of Rick’s room.

The first bout of panic set in when he realized his grandfather’s door was wide open. No light shone from inside but…

No- Rick probably just forgot to close it, Morty told himself- but he was unable to still the quickening pounding on the inside of his ribs.

With a few steadying breaths, the boy rounded the corner and stared into the empty void of the room.

No Rick.

His cot looked undisturbed.

Morty felt as if breathing were some impossible task- as if the atmosphere was laced with toxic gas that blistered deep into his chest when he tried to inhale.

Quick sharp gasps permeated the stillness surrounding him as he moved without thinking. Just like Rick had showed him to clear a space with a gun, he moved swiftly but steadily around corners- a second nature to him now.

This part- running; scoping; gauging a situation- was what came organically to him at this point. He only faltered when it came to making a decision.

He cleared each of the silent rooms one by one.

The living room. Clear.

The dining room. Clear.

The kitch- There was a figure.

Behind the counter was a shape standing tall and willowy, nothing but a black silhouette- the outline of a man he knew well. Morty could tell it was Rick- his Rick.

Something about the breathing pattern, the way his shoulders hunched forward- even here, in the absence of light, Morty knew. He thought he’d be able to tell his Rick apart from any other lithe thing even in the absence of all of his senses.

Something just felt… right. Or wrong.

A sense of calm. Or panic.

One could not exist without the other with him, but Morty knew- he knew- and he could take solace in that. That was enough.

Too often, he felt as if he knew nothing, so- here; now; knowing who’s back at which he stared- that would suffice.

Morty stood there for a long moment, feeling content enough to go back to bed with a sense of having been pacified just knowing that Rick was still a tangible being haunting his family home. He felt himself slow to a calm, his own shoulders sliding forward in a similar fashion to his grandfather’s, as relief flooded his mind. The gentle push and pull of the waves drowned the anxious torrent of thought that had commandeered his small form just moments before.

Then, just as he thought he was about to slip out of the kitchen without being noticed, a soft rumble of a murmur snaked its way across the distance between the two.

“Nightmare?”

If recounting this moment, Morty wouldn’t have said that the tone in which Rick spoke was laced with any intention of being gentle. He wasn’t a foolish enough child to think the elder was capable of anything of the sort. It was just sputtered into the air with a flatness that felt… hollow; pained.

It was something more akin to how he sounded when he was gravely injured; like a small exhale doused in self-pity.

It was a tone that Morty knew well.

He took a moment, debating whether he would even bother answering, before he slid onto one of the bar stools. The leather of the seat was cool as it kissed Morty’s thighs through his pajama bottoms.

“R-Rick?” The question came out a little more than a gruff croak. He had all but forgotten how hoarse he’d been when he woke up, but now the memory sunk back over his thoughts.

“Yeah?” the figure sighed, shifting a bit- the rustle of fabric a soft hum over the grain of the surface separating them. The light above the stove flickered to life, spinning a dim yellowy blanket over the kitchen, Rick’s finger hovering over the switch before he turned to face his grandson.

The golden light hugged the sallow face of Morty’s grandfather like a glove, the fine lines and cracks across the old man’s blank expression the seams of its tender handiwork. In his left hand, Rick held a can of light beer. A plush red robe draped off the harsh angles of his sinuous pallid frame and he splayed his free hand flat across the counter, leaning forward.

He was nothing more than a wisp of energy- the living memory of a man. If Morty leaned into the silence enough, he thought he could have heard the whirring of the machinery keeping his body alive- if he were to look close enough, maybe he could see it stirring beneath his skin.

“Do-“ Morty began before Rick cut him off.

“Water,” the man said pointedly, jutting his chin to indicate a full glass that sat on the edge of the counter closest to Morty, a few inches from his left hand. “Drink. You sound like- you’re talking l-like the fuckin’ Grudge or some shit.” Rick’s eyes bore into his own with more intensity than Morty thought he’d ever seen from a hooded gaze, but his expression remained unreadable- lips nothing but a thin line aside from when he’d take a curt sip of the beer he lifted to his lips every few moments.

Morty hated how Rick would do that- ask a question and then interrupt him when he went to answer. He guessed, though, that he couldn’t really complain about it right now. He’d brushed off Rick’s probe about his nightmare with just as much casual disregard as Rick allotted his own curiosity.

Pushing aside his irritation, Morty eagerly obliged his request. He wrapped his hands around the glass and raised it to his mouth. Not bothering to wrap his lips around the rim to take proper sips, he opened wide and chugged eagerly until no more than a few gulps swished at the bottom. The liquid ran down the sides of his chin, dripping down his neck and soaking into the collar of his still-damp shirt.

He wiped his mouth on the back of his sleeve.

“Where- How did yo- W-Why did you have water sitting there al-already? L-like… how did you know I was going to need a drink?” Morty muttered. He wasn’t really sure why he even bothered to look for answers with Rick. It could just be assumed that he was always ten steps ahead of everyone else. Fifty steps, if it was Morty.

“Y-You know, when Beth would have a bad dream, I would always h-hold her. She preferred w-warm milk or horchata b-urrrrp-ut I didn- I’ve never comforted you before, a-and I’m sure as hell not fuckin’ holding you, so.” He took another drink from his can.

Now, Morty wasn’t even sure if he could read Rick’s tone anymore. It was something he’d never heard in the man’s cadence. He set down the glass and lowered his gaze, twiddling his thumbs over one another.

“How did you kn-know I had a nightmare?” Morty flicked his eyes back up to find Rick now fidgeting with the top of the can, thumbing the metal tab.

“I figured that w-was the most likely reason for you to be sneaking around, back to the wall like you were on s-some cheesy ass co- police show,” Rick offered, an airy chuckle jouncing his breathy statement to an odd rhythm.

Morty furrowed his brow, cheeks heating with a bit of embarrassment. “I- uhh… I-I couldn’t find you,” his voice wavered, cracking a bit. He had to clear his throat to continue, fighting against that lump swelling there. “I dreamt th-that… in my-my dream you… ya know… I couldn’t st-stop you. I just wanted to-“

“See if I was breathing?” Rick finished for him. Morty blinked back the tears threatening to slip down his cheeks.

“Y-Yeah. How-“

“I still peek in fr-from time to time,” Rick shrugged, looking back up at his grandson. Morty raised a brow, not fully understanding. “To see if Beth’s breathing- y-you and Summer,” the old man clarified, lowering his stare again.

“O-Oh…” Morty whispered back.

Morty got up, exhaustion now pulling at his eyelids. Even if he hadn’t been tired, he would've appreciated the isolation so that he could cry. He didn’t want Rick to see him like this.

As much as Morty knew it was stupid to idolize the man in front of him in any way, he couldn’t help but want Rick to think he was strong.

Maybe a little part of him knew that Rick had no one else left to depend on. Maybe a part of him just wanted to be for Rick what a grandfather should be for a grandson; or a parent for a child. He got the feeling Rick was a lot like him in that way- that he’d never gotten that- and he wondered if he still felt like Morty did. Scared. Just a boy.

A boy trapped in the shell of a sad old drunk.

In all of those ‘maybe’s, there was a certainty. Rick would have Morty.

So, Morty turned to walk away, pressing his palms into his eyes until stars danced in the edges of his vision.

“Gimme a minute and-and I’ll be -urrrrp- up,” Rick said emphatically.

Morty startled, slowly turning on his heel and dropping his hands. “Huh?”

“Y-Yeah. Just let- gonna finish this beer and then I’ll grab my shit. Y-Your rug comfy?” Rick picked an invisible piece of lint off of his robe, no inflection to his voice to indicate sarcasm.

“Uhhhh…” Morty was unsure how to respond. Was he really-

“Ehhh, nevermind. I know it’s not. I’ll bring an extra blanket.”

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He did cry. Just a bit. He swallowed down the bile trying to snake its way out of him.

It had been a while- maybe twenty minutes- and he started to think Rick wasn’t coming. That was okay. Morty didn’t think he needed him to. He’d really only needed to see him. To make sure his family was safe.

He was almost asleep when he heard the door creak open, and the inside of his eyelids turned a light orange from the flood of light coming in from the hallway.

There was some rustling and grunting- a clank that told him Rick had brought a six pack with him- before he heard a gruff sigh.

The boy let a few more moments pass, waited to hear Rick’s breathing even out and deepen, before he spoke.

“Rick?”

“Yeah?”

“I… I bet you were a good dad.” Morty whispered, letting the stillness of the room soak up his words. He wasn’t sure that Rick had even heard him, but then a strange, soft noise gurgled from the center of the room.

Rick cleared his throat.

“Shut the fuck up, Morty.”

The corner of Morty’s lip twitched up softly before silence enveloped the room once again.

#rick and morty #rick sanchez #morty smith #my fic #a bunch of useless pixie points if you caught onto the parallels in their behavior

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todayisawthewhxlewxrld · 5 months

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YEAH!! I've seen people have 0 asks posted, but have so much interaction on their actual account. Personally, I would LOVE to interact with my community. Yk if I could muster up the courage to actually post 💀

Honestly we should just switch, cause I used to be up 24/7, got like 3 hours of sleep and I'd be up bright and early just living life, twas the best

But now I fear that I sleep like an elderly man 😞 I take naps all the time, for several hours, then sleep around 9-10 pm, if my friends call max is about 1:30 am AND THEN I SLEEP UNTIL 3 IN THE AFTERNOON TO MAKE UP FOR IT?? It's crazy FR.

AND YOU'RE SO RIGHT, megumi isn't megumi without his persistent denies, it just fits him 🤞😋

No but seriously, I'm considering writing something and posting it but I'm TERRIFIED of criticism, and I am BALLS at writing 😭 Though I might post artwork, been storing for winter 😽

It's 15 mins after 9, and I am afraid that my friend will call me as soon as I answer this "hi" they sent.. 😣

Xoxo 👽 (Feeling the extra happiness, so I'm gonna quickly tell you how much I love how you wrote Megumi, like I love his angsty teen energy, and the sonic memes fit him so well 💀 You're BRILLIANTLY talented at fitting characters personalities. CAN'T WAIT FOR TOMORROW, SPELLBOUND MAKES ME EXCITED TO WAKE UP 😽)

that’s actually crazy omg… anons and asks r like what makes tumblr for me LMFAO i love interacting with ppl… i mean i guess i could slightly understand if ur getting like ur ask box flooded everyday but like NOTHING???? NONE OF THEM???

YOU SLEEP LIKE AN ELDERLY MAN KFMAOAOOA i used to sleep like that too don’t worry!! it happens to the best of us i fear…

NOOOO U SHOULD POST UR WRITING!!!! i’m also terrified of criticism and somehow i have.. gotten none in the time of been here?? idk i feel like i don’t see a lot of ppl get criticism here or if it is it’s not even about the writing it’s about like posting schedule and wanting them to post faster or smth…. ANYWAY U WONT KNOW UNLESS U TRY BUT REGARDLESS OF IF U DO OR DONT ILL SUPPORT U ! (heh is choso somewhere in ur art… cause if so sign me up…)

BYE thank god none of my friends like calling amen 🙏

THANK U SM BAE UR SO SWEET I WILL START CRYING AND DRY HEAVING RN STOP IT!!!!!

#axel answers ☆⋆｡𖦹°‧★#axel answers// 👽

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flutteringdreams-matw · 3 years

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Fic Writer Review

Thanks for the tag @dp-marvel94 - first time I've been tagged like this. I have a full fuzzy heart right now!

1) How many works do you have on AO3? 7 but attempting to clean up and move fics to AO3. I've got about 13 on FFN. 2. What’s your total AO3 word count? 184 768 3. How many fandoms have you written for and what are they? On AO3 - 1, on FFN 2. Almost all Danny Phantom except for an old Merlin one shot. I'd like to revisit that Fandom one day - I just got so busy with school :/ The merlin fandom is quite awesome. 4. What are your top 5 fics by kudos? 1) Twist and Turns 2) The Road to Normal 3) Making the Grade 4) Out of Time 5) Undeserved Punishment 5. Which of your fic do you want more attention for? Out of Time but honestly I'm grateful for any attention I get. 6. Do you respond to comments, why or why not? Yes! I have been bad at it for AGES but have recently gotten in the habit of replying once every two days. It brings some serotonin to my brain. I don't get many comments or kudos - so it brings even GREATER joy when I get to reply.

7. What’s the fic you’ve written with the angstiest ending? Uh.... I guess it would be Just a Clone an old oneshot from Dani's perspective after Kindred Spirits (right after it aired). It was maybe the 2nd thing I posted on FFN. 8. Do you write crossovers? What’s the craziest one you’ve written? Have not done a crossover yet - not for lack of ideas. It's just not something I'm good at. 9. Have you ever received hate on a fic? Remember when flames were a thing? Also, quite a guest reviews on FFN who impersonated people's accounts. Just... not a good thing to do. 10. Do you write smut? if so what kind? NOPE. 11. Have you ever had a fic translated? I have not - honestly don't think anyone would want to but please be my guest! 12. Have you ever co-written a fic before? Not yet - but did start the planning process over on FFN with MsFrizzle for something. Still working out timelines/commitment! 13. What’s your all time favorite ship? Canon pairings so Amethyst Ocean. Not that I won't read or enjoy other pairings so long as it's close to canon or very well done. 14. What’s a WIP that you want to finish but don’t think you ever will? Hmm. See the whole reason I came back to writing was to finish all the WIP fics I didn't finish. Underserved Punishment was left sitting for 6 years. Making the Grade was TEN. YEARS. But have since finished them both. Currently, I guess it's an unpublished short work called "Worth of a Pawn" from Vlad's perspective in Reign Storm. I started it, have made attempts to finish it... but writer's block and life.

15. What are your writing strengths? Huh. Um. Hurt Comfort? Friendship? I'm hoping characterization?

16. What are your writing weaknesses? Honestly, I have a love/hate relationship with action/fight scenes with heavy dialogue. For a while I thought it was humour but Road to Normal has been going well so far? 17. What are your thoughts on writing dialogue in other languages in a fic? If you can do it - do it responsibly. 18. What was the first fandom you wrote for? 15 (or 16?) year old me sat in a dentist office and wrote the entirity of Escape from Fear Island and an untitled angsty torture fic with Danny finding Dani in the Fenton Basement in a notebook. Then I read Tortured Truth by Darth Frodo on FFN and went "oooh... that was better." I published EfFI instead and started to plan more in that universe.... and am still going 15 years later. 19. What’s your favorite fic you’ve written? What. Ugh - do I have to lol? I love Making the Grade for many reasons, but I think Out of Time has started to replace that. 20. What fic are you most proud of? Out of Time - hands down. All of the ecto-storm fics hold a place in my heart but there are some parts of this story that have been in my head since I wrote EfFI in 2006/7. I just... I look at the almost 110k words I've written for that story (that isn't already on AO3... still working on catching up!) and realize how much time it's spent in my heart. Everytime I post a chapter, I feel like a piece of myself is out their in the world. An insane world with many ups and downs. We're getting near the end now and I had literal tears when I finished the last chapter a couple weeks back. Tagging: Oh gosh I'm new to tumblr! Um... @dekalko-mania @captain-ozone and anyone else who wants to do this? So many people have done this already, I'd hate to double tag! Please go for it - share your story!!!

#danny phantom #fic writer review

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sleepdeprivedheretic · 4 years

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can you write headcanons of hawks falling for a girl whose parents are emotionally abusive?

I’m up for writing a little bit of angst, Anon, but well as fluff~ I made it a high school setting, though

Warning: Emotional Abuse,

You were so sweet and kind and friendly at school. At first glance, nobody knew that you had put up a barrier around your heart, not letting anybody get really too close.

He saw it, though. The way you’d blanche a little at helpful criticism, cower a little with tense muscles when there were loud noises, and avoided conflict/drama like the plague. He knew all too well.

He knew what it was like, because he had shitty parents, too. He knew that you were trying to hide it, and you did fairly well in doing so.

You kept acting air-headed and light hearted around your friends, avoiding to put your own two cents in when they brought up rumors, and although happy and peppy, you were kind of shy.

He couldn’t just not step in, you know? Blunt confrontation wouldn’t really help you, so he did what he, a teenager in this scenario, thought was best.

He’d compliment you daily. “You scored 90% on that math test? That’s amazing, y/n.”, “Oh, you got that part-time job? I’m proud of you.”, and “Your smile is pretty today, y/n.”

Although he wasn’t flirting with you, he wanted to make sure that you were doing okay. You were a good kid, whoever caused you to act like this, he wanted to find out.

He hung out with you regularly. He knew that you didn’t fully trust him, and that was okay. He’s not a stalking creep, so he’ll let you open up on your own terms.

He found himself genuinely liking your company. You seemed to relax around him, and your true colors were sweeter than your high school persona. He tried to get you to be more lax around other people, but he didn’t want to push it.

He liked low-key spoiling you. He couldn’t help it. He did it subtly, like getting the both of you chicken strips, telling you that he accidentally had gotten too much, or he’d go out of his way to make sure that you were okay during classes as he walked with you, as if he was guarding you from the loud, obnoxious laughter and noises.

One day you asked him if he wanted to hang out at your place and play video games. He was a little surprised, and you were a little hesitant, but happily agreed.

When the two of you reached your home, he noticed that the atmosphere shifted.

“Oh? I didn’t know that you were bringing a friend. I thought you didn’t have those.” Your mother quipped in a sugary tone. You blanched, but Keigo’s eye twitched. So that was your problem. Little did he know, it was going to get a little worse.

The two of you hung out in the living room as you took turns playing Super Mario Brothers. It was fun, but at the same time, it wasn’t. Your parents were in the kitchen, just in ear shot as they tried to act civil, but let a few snide remarks slip past during the afternoon.

“y/n, it’s time for your friend to leave. You told us that you had homework to do.” Your father said. You blanched. “I never said such a thing.” You admitted, because it was a Sunday, and you finished it all on Friday. Your father wasn’t making any sense.

His voice raised a little, calling you a liar, and you couldn’t help but flinch. It took a lot of willpower on Keigo’s part to stay calm.

It didn’t take a genius to know that your father was gas-lighting you, or putting words in your mouth, and then acting like you were the culprit.

Keigo felt a little sick, as well as fury. The old bag was pulling a cheap trick right in front of your friend, so he knew that it had gotten probably worse when you were alone with your parents.

He knew that he couldn’t do anything. Well, there was one thing that he could do, but he had to talk to you in private about it. He gave you a sympathetic look. He didn’t want to leave you here, but he had to return home.

He mocked saluted your parents, thanking them for having him over in an almost, almost sarcastic tone while he mentally cussed them out and called them every name in the book. He patted your shoulder and gave you a really warm smile, hoping to reassure you mentally that he still wanted to be your friend.

He wouldn’t allow you to avoid him when school came. He didn’t know how much protective he felt about you until recently, and he was boiling with inner fury at your parents. So, he sat you down, and looked at you dead in the eye.

“Move in with me.” You were at lost. What? He continued. “You’re not the only person who has crappy parents. I had to find a job and get my own apartment to get away from them. You’re eighteen, right? So legally you can move in with me. You don’t have to do this, but I can’t stand to see you torture yourself any longer.” He admitted freely.

You were a little confused, but he explained on what he saw, and he knew what was happening. He didn’t want to scare you, but he needed you to make an ultimatum to help yourself, and the only way he knew how was to get you out of that situation.

You didn’t want to burden him. You did want to move away and never speak to your parents for a while, but you couldn’t do that to Keigo.

“Dove, the only way you could ever “burden” me, is to continue letting your parents treat you like garbage. I worry about you, and you don’t know when or if that crap’s going to turn physical. So please.” He begged.

You caved. He was such a good friend to you, and you knew that he was right. You didn’t want to end up in the hospital, one day because you overstepped your boundaries with your parents. He was glad that you were safe.

When moving out, he told you to call the police and tell them that you were getting your things, and you didn’t want any trouble with your parents. Legally, he said, you could do that, and your parents can’t do anything about it. You are of age, no longer legally a child, and so you have every right to your own belongings.

Of course your parents were furious when the police showed up, but they could only hold their tongue and steam in anger as Keigo gave them a haughty smirk as he helped pack your stuff in his car. You were finally free, and he was going to make sure you never felt that way again.

Bonus: With your part time job, it was easier to pay the bills. He and you shared chores and bills, and took turns cooking. He didn’t really know how, but he liked watching you. He liked you, and it was pretty obvious.

He never made you feel obligated or uncomfortable to do certain chores or tasks, and he was always quiet with the noises.

The both of you graduated, and gotten better jobs. He did realize that he was in love with you, and confessed.

If you refused, he’d understand, while the two of you rented separate places. He’d always keep in touch and see how you’re doing.

If you accepted his feelings, the two of you rented a better place and lived as a healthy and happy couple.

No matter what the ending, he’d still be your best friend and emotional support system, going to some therapy sessions with you and help you stay clear from your parents.

I hope you liked it, Anon! <3 Wow, this is longer than I thought 0-0. I couldn’t help myself and tripped into some fluff, woops. If you want it more angsty, let me know. I’m trying to write more of it, but I’m not good at it >-> Somehow fluff just keeps appearing outta nowhere :/

#Keigo Takami #Reader #Fluff #little bit of angst

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