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maximwtf · 9 months

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can I request an animagus!reader x platonic!Newt Scamander where the reader has just become an animagus, and Newt finds them in their animagus form (maybe a lynx or kneazle) and takes them in? He doesn’t know it’s the reader and the reader stays in animagus form to see what happens and mess with Newt

Platonic! Newt Sacamander x Animagus! Reader

Words: 2350

Google docs pages: 4

Warnings: None, I believe

Opening: The reader is a new kneazle animagus who gets found by Newt on accident. The reader recognizes Newt from some time ago, but decides against changing forms to see how far they could go before Newt would realise who the creature truly was.

AN// Any pronouns for reader! Haha, I didn’t even realise how much I missed writing for this man. Thank you for the request, I hope it's to your liking. (Oh, and thank you for the other requests I’ve also gotten, I’ll get to those as soon as I can! ^^)

“Are you lost?”

You hadn't meant to change forms now, but after completing some…unofficial work as some might call it, you had to make sure no one was after you and it just kind of happened. Not that you hadn’t been trying to turn for the first time, you had been but without any success. There wasn’t much time to get used to the form, but you knew enough about magical creatures to pinpoint what your form might have been. It also turned out your new form was a great getaway, especially from places where there were kneazles roaming around anyway. No one would pay no mind to your escape.

Only, while checking that no one was after you, a man passing by noticed you. You being too busy frantically looking around caused you to not notice him though. This allowed him to get rather close, but far enough to not be able to touch you. The surprise of a wizard staring at you caught you off guard, and as much as you’d hate to admit it, a hiss left your muzzle. Your movements, as far as you knew, weren't too graceful either, most likely resembling an injured animal rather than a kneazle used for guarding. The man took a respectful step back, kneeling down to your level. You stared back at him with a fierce expression, trying your best to scare him away. Surely, like most people, he knew that the kneazles around here were used as guardians. For all he knew, he could have gotten attacked by you, not that you’d do that to him of course. Your speckled fur rose up, big ears pinning back as you showed your sharp teeth to him. The man didn’t seem afraid, even more oddly…he seemed to try and relax even more. At this point, you knew that even a real kneazle would have come to the conclusion that this man was to be trusted, but you were no house pet. You didn’t need to be taken back to your home, you didn’t even live here. No matter how kind this man was. But he did seem insistent on trying to get your trust, for whatever reason that may have been for.

Newt offered out his hand. The kneazle seemed more scared to him rather than trying to chase him away. This kept him persistent on trying again, thinking that the creature might have been hurt for the way it was moving. “Did you get lost? You’re quite far from home, if you did.” He smiled, keeping his hand out before his eyes lit up. “Would you like a treat?” He kept speaking in a calm tone, not wishing to scare you.

It was when he had begun to speak that the realisation had hit you. The wizard trying to get you to come to him was someone who you had met briefly before. Newt Scamander, you remember his name being. That must have been why he seemed so calm around you, ignoring any warning signs that you had given him. It now felt like he knew how to handle your form better than you yourself. Embarrassing, but thankfully you’d never have to admit that to him…

The realisation must have calmed the way you looked, and the wizard had taken that as a ‘yes’ to his offer. You watched as Newt opened the briefcase he always carried with him, putting it against a corner of a house. The place was so far on the edge of the living area, no one ever came there. Except for you and him it seemed.

Keeping your eyes on the man, you saw him climb into the briefcase, soon a hand poking out as if the wizard was inviting you to join him. Reluctantly you took a couple of steps closer, looking down into the briefcase. It seemed like a house, not even a small one that was. At the bottom of the ladder you saw Newt again, he was holding a piece of meat in his hand which he showed to you and then placed down on a table, coming back to the end of the ladder. He held out his arms, asking for you to come down. He did still believe you had just gotten lost, but perhaps you could have some fun before ultimately you’d have to reveal yourself to him. Before that though, you’d have to figure out how to turn back…

With that, you stepped down and allowed Newt to catch you. You looked around the briefcase as the wizard set you down and held out the treat yet again, lowering it to you. The thought of eating in your animagus form almost made you recoil but if that was what had to be done in order for your plan to work, you’d do it. You took the rather small piece of meat from him, munching it away while he leaned on a table. When your eyes travelled back to him, he seemed to be thinking.

Thinking of what to do with you now. It was getting quite late, and he didn’t want to bother the residents at night by knocking on their doors, asking if someone had lost their kneazle. Which meant he’d either have to let you wander the night alone or keep you in the briefcase until the sun rose up again. Which of he chose the latter, of course. “Right, I suppose you’re going to have to stay with me. It’s okay, we’ll find your home tomorrow.” He smiled with the same gentle smile you had seen before and reached down to you. Newt waited for you to sniff his hand, as if letting you recheck if you trusted him before he allowed himself to pet your head briefly.

A gush of air hit your face as Newt pushed himself away from the table, and walked to the kitchen, continuing on to a place in the ‘house’ that you had heard animalistic noises from, your heightened senses allowing you to smell other creatures in that area. With cautious steps you followed along, watching as he fed the other creatures. You knew he was well informed on magical creatures, and it showed. All the creatures had their own assigned habitats, and Newt seemed to know exactly how much and what to feed them. Heck, as far as you knew he was treating you like you had read all kneazles should be treated. It rather warmed your heart to see him care for the creatures so deeply, even if some may have claimed them as dangerous and as something to never go near.

Though, the feeding meant that you had time to explore without his attention being on you. Your paws turned, trotting back to the kitchen area where after some thinking you decided to jump on the counter. It wasn’t a graceful jump, and as much as you’d hate to admit it, you did have to drag yourself up to be able to fully stand up. While walking to the other side of it, you made note of what had been on it. As you were about to jump down the sound of footsteps on the wooden floor almost echoed in your ears before you could cast a look towards the man. He seemed almost just as surprised to see you on the counter, a playful smile on his face as he got closer. “Be careful, I haven’t yet checked you for injuries!” You jumped down, running away but not far enough to not hear him. “Hm, were you looking for food as well?” Newt’s voice spoke again as he made sure that nothing on the counter was broken. “Come on then, you’ll get some too.” He hummed, seemingly happy to have a visitor.

You had made your way to where the habitats were, eyes wide as your much smaller form marched past huge creatures, some you had never even seen before. While in your thoughts something had managed to sneak up on you, tugging your tail for a few times. A rather rough hiss came from you while turning around, finding a small, almost blue-ish creature sitting behind you. As soon as it saw the opportunity, which was the clear confusion on your face, it scattered away. Your gaze followed it run and get picked up by Newt. The expression on his face looked as if even without seeing he knew the creature must have met you. “You met Teddy, then?” The creature named ‘Teddy’ climbed onto his shoulder, not keeping it safe for much longer as Newt picked you up as well, carrying you as he walked.

You didn’t look, but you felt his eyes on you every now and then. As if he was thinking about something, making notes of your behaviour.

The wizard had heard the rather odd hiss coming from you earlier. He had his doubts about you, thinking that maybe you lacked some of the high intelligence the kneazle usually had or perhaps it was something else making him suspicious of you…or perhaps you were just injured. Either way, he set you down, you only now noticing he had brought you back into the kitchen. “Be careful around the habitats, better not get too close when they’re eating you see.” He spoke to your animagus form, as if you’d understand. Of course you did, but he didn’t know that.

A bowl was placed on the ground, slightly under the table so he wouldn’t accidentally step on it or kick it while walking by. “There you go.” Another smile. While sniffing the food, you could feel his eyes examine your form, but he couldn’t find any signs of bruises or injuries. With that he retreated himself to his room, and as if no time had passed the sounds of writing began to chime from behind the curtain he seemed to use as a door.

You were not eating again. Not in this form at least. Though, you were getting thirsty but there was absolutely no way you’d be able to turn on the faucet without him noticing. So it became a waiting game. Waiting until he’d fall asleep and you could figure out how to turn back to your human form.

Eventually the waiting paid off. The noises of writing and pages being turned stopped and you could have sworn you heard the bed sheets move as he settled down. Some of the creatures had calmed down as well it seemed, even better for you.

With a couple of careful glances to your sides and a long sigh, you sat down and closed your eyes. What felt like hours of concentrating worked, you were back to your human form. It felt oddly nice to be standing on two legs, to be able to reach the countertop without having to jump on top of it. Though, the first couple of steps you took were clumsy.

You opened some of the cabinets and soon found a glass which you filled with water a couple of times and drank. To your fortune and maybe to Newt's misfortune he had left some bread on the counter as well, a night snack for you.

While working on preparing some food for yourself, someone had woken up. He was staring at you from the corner of his bedroom and it didn’t take long until you could feel eyes on your back. Assuming it was either the ‘Teddy’ creature or one of the free roaming bird-like ones, you turned around calmly only to find Newt staring at you. You froze and it almost felt like time had done the same, but the environment soon warmed up as Newt laughed gently. “I thought there was something odd about the kneazle I rescued.” He walked closer, leaning on the kitchen table. He seemed calm enough on the outside, but you still felt the need to apologise. “I- I’m sorry, Newt. I should probably leave, I know you don’t like-” The stutter mixed ramble was interrupted by Newt putting his hand up. “It’s quite alright. Only a surprise to meet you again like this.” He spoke, a hint of awkwardness in his voice but he seemed to hide it well. “You never told me you were an animagus?” He asked, Newt's voice now filled with interest as he got to bring up the topic of magical creatures once more. “Not necessarily a registered one, so I don’t tend to bring it up…” You grinned a little awkwardly, scratching the back of your neck as you retreated from the countertops and seated yourself around the kitchen table. “Ah, I see. I’m assuming you don’t use the form often then either?” Newt hummed, taking your earlier spot. “ He reached into the cabinets. “O-oh, no. I- This was actually the first time it worked.” You said, knowing your clumsy movements in the form must have seemed odd to Newt. The wizard’s eyes moved back to you, slight worry mixed with interest in his eyes. “Are you feeling alright?” The question slipped from him so suddenly. You blinked a couple of times. “Oh yes, I suppose. Got some getting used to, I suppose.” You tried to smile, only now feeling the exhaustion from the changes. Newt took a moment to say anything. “Would you like some tea? I was coming to make some for myself earlier but..” He smiled. You bit your inner lip in embarrassment, not letting it show. “Sure.”

#newt scamander #fantastic beasts and where to find them fanfic #harry potter #fanfic #fanfiction #x reader #fantastic beasts #fbawtft #fbawtft x reader #newt scamander x reader #animagus

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rainbows-r-nice05 · 1 year

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~Stolen Glasses~

George Karim x Reader

Content: FLUFF and kissing

Summary: On one early morning, you decide to spice things up a little by stealing your lovers glasses.

Warnings: GRAMMER, it being my first fanfic I write.....

Word Count: 1,200 (according to Google Docs)

Notes: Ok y'all, This is my first fanfic ever writing and I sure do hope y'all like it. I apologize for my crappy writing. Please enjoy this fluffy fic I decided to do!!! I might do more.... just maybe.... (foreshadowinggggg).

@nevermoreakaemohogwarts I hope you like it!! <3

Warm, that's what you feel when you wake up. Eyes squinting as the sun beams down upon your face as you lie in your bed. Well, not your bed… more like George's bed. You two have been dating for about 3 months and you practically moved into his room. Let's just say you only go into his room when you have trouble sleeping or had a nightmare. Anyway, Someone must have opened the blinds while you were asleep. Only proves who had done it, which you were a little bit annoyed at. You also heard the shower running which meant that George must be in the shower.

Groaning you pulled the covers back and got up from the bed. You put on your fizzy socks as you look at the clock on George's night stand that reads 7 o'clock. You rolled your eyes since you could have slept in more. You were about to walk out when you spotted his glasses on his desk. A mischievous grin makes its way onto your face as you casually picked up his glasses and placed them in your pajama pocket. Your stomach gave a grumble which told you that you needed breakfast.

As you walked out of the room, you could smell the tea that was already brewed and the delicious smelling blueberry pancakes. George must have woken up a lot earlier than you in order to make these. Walking down the stairs and into the kitchen, you realize how quiet it is, with the exception of the shower running. Oh right!! Lockwood and Lucy would not be back until around 8, their case included an overnight stay at a hotel. Well that's why it's so quiet.

You walked over to the counter and made yourself some tea and put some blueberry pancakes on a plate and decorated it. Syrup and whipped cream were the main toppings and you took the plate and your tea and sat down at the table. You took a sip of your warm tea and started eating your pancakes. "Mmmm George, these are so good", you say to yourself as you take the first bite.

You loved the mornings at 35 Portland Row. Sun shining into the dining room and onto your face. The sounds of the birds chipping and the tea kettle whistling. Or sometimes it would be raining and those days were the best. But today was just another summer morning.

You then hear the shower shut off and the door to the bathroom opens. Then you see George with his wet messy hair sticking to his forehead with a big t-shirt on and guess what…. No trousers. You see George squint at you and all you could do is smile and blush at his stance.

"Y/n have you seen my glasses anywhere? I swore I put them on my dresser by my bed." You see him looking around the kitchen and moving things on the table.

"Not that I know of, Have you tried your pancakes because they are so good." You say trying to change the subject. George was now looking at you skeptically and turned back to his mug pouring the boiling water with the tea bag in it. Smirking, you slowly slipped the glasses out of your pocket and put them on your nose.

"Are you sure you ha-" he said as he turned around to see you mid bite into your pancake. You then continued to eat and smirked while George just stood there with a straight look on his face. "Y/n what do you have on your nose?" "I honestly do not know what you are talking about " you said as you sat back in your chair and looked at George. " Y/n…..you know exactly what I am talking about, now please give them back before I run into another wall." " Hmmmm…." You said thoughtfully as you put a finger to your chin. "No, sorry but I quite like your glasses, fit me well yea."

"If I do not get them in the next 3 seconds, there will be consequences." "And what would those consequences be?" You say as you raise an eyebrow. "You will see if you do not give them back" " I think I want to find out" you say smiling.

"Ok then, Three……" he says as he comes up closer to you ".... Two….." You have a feeling as to what's about to happen "....ONE…"

George lunges at you, hands at your sides tickling you. You laugh so hard trying to pry his hands away from you as George laughs and keeps tickling you. "GEORGE… STOPPPP!!" You say in between breaths as he continues tickling you.

You eventually escape his hands and quickly move to the other side of the table. " You know, this could all end if you would give me my glasses back." " Hmm… but I want to see what happens next." You held deep eye contact as You slowly moved toward the door. Looking behind you, you smirk and quickly run up the stairs, George following chasing after you. Laughter fills the air as you run into George's room and him hot on your tail.

"GEORGE WAIT AHH" You say as he tackles you onto his bed. Your laughs fill his ears and he pins your hands onto the bed with him straddling you. Your laughter fads as the both of you hold eye contact for a decent amount of time. Both of you are lost in each other's eyes and basking in the color of them. His dark chocolate brown eyes with your beautiful (e/c) eyes. George then glances at your lips and slowly moves in as if for a kiss. Just as your lips are about to touch, he backs out last minute and snaches his glasses from your face. "HA I have gotten my reward for chasing you up here," George says with a proud look on his face. You on the other hand are pretty flustered and as red as a tomato since you were teased.

"Not gonna lie, but my darling, you look quite good in my glasses." "Oh just shut up and kiss me already," you say as you put your arms around his neck. "As you wish my love," and the both of you lean in and press your lips to his lips.

This kiss was long and so much love and passion was put into that kiss. George's hand eventually went to your cheek as your hands started playing with the hairs on the back of his head.

As you pull away, George collapses on your chest with his head in your neck. You laugh as he snuggles more deeper into your neck. "Well, that was fun," you say as you play with George's hair. "Yea.. Maybe you should steal my glasses more often, my love." "Ok, I think I will, besides, I have got more plans to come as to when to STRIKE!!" you say as you snatch his glasses from his hand. "NOPE, you are too slick for that one darling," he says as he snatches them back and puts them on his face. You then pout and then George just busts out laughing. "Darling, you know that does not work on me." "Worth a try," you say as you place a soft kiss on top of his head. You both just sit there in comfortable silence and cuddling for about a good 5 minutes.

"Alright then, we better go down and eat breakfast before Lockwood and Lucy come home," George says as he gets up. "Yes you're indeed right," you say as you get up. George then waits for you at the door and interlocks your hand into his and shares one final short kiss before walking down stairs together. Oh yes, you were so going to get him back

#george karim x reader #george karim #lockwood and co series #lockwood and co x reader #lockwood and co #lucy carlyle #anthony lockwood

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suddencolds · 8 months

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Fool Me Twice [5/?]

Hello, remember this series? This chapter took me like six months to write. It was very embarrassing opening up the google doc again to see that the last edit was in April (back when I rewrote this chapter from scratch five times over before giving up entirely.) Anyways, I need to post it before I lose my nerve. 😭

Part 5 ft. fake dating, a cold, and an intervention

You can read part 1 [here]! (No context is needed aside from the previous 4 parts).

—

The drive to Good Day Diner is uneventful. Francesca recommended it to him awhile back, when they were both still in college, and he’s been trying to puzzle out their recipes ever since. Though, even with the ones where he’s come close, he rarely has the time to make them properly, in between work and everything else, so he’s been back here a few times since then.

Yves picks up two pint-sized containers worth of soup—chicken farro and miso with ginger—and strikes up a conversation with the cashier while he waits.

“This isn’t your usual order,” she says.

“Yeah,” Yves says. “It’s for a friend.”

“They’re a fan of miso?” Yves considers this. They’ve gone to more than a couple work outings together, and though Yves hasn’t paid particularly close attention to what everyone else has ordered, he thinks he remembers Vincent getting miso salmon on one occasion, a few weeks back. “I’m not sure,” he says. “I hope so.”

“Your friend didn’t tell you their order?”

“He doesn’t know I’m getting dinner for him. I just happened to be passing by, so I thought I might as well.” That part’s not entirely true—the restaurant is a twenty minute drive from the office, and it’s not really on the way home, either.

“So it’s a surprise,” the girl says, leaning back with a smile that looks a little too knowing for Yves’s liking. Whatever she thinks she’s figured out, he’s sure she has the wrong idea. “That’s awfully nice of you.”

“It’s not like that,” Yves says. “We aren’t that close. I’m not even sure if he’ll be happy to see me.”

“Why’s that?”

“He’s done a lot for me, and I think—” I think I might’ve repaid him in the most ungrateful way possible, his mind supplies unhelpfully. “I think all I’ve done, in return, is cause him trouble.”

The girl finishes ladling soup into the containers and reaches over the counter for two caps. “Usually when people do a lot for you, that means they like you.”

“Or it means they’re just really nice,” Yves says. “I think that’s closer to it.”

“So you’re getting him soup because you feel indebted to him?” She sets the soup containers carefully into a brown paper bag, slips in two plastic sleeves worth of utensils, then slides it towards him.

“Something like that,” Yves says, taking the bag from her. “Thanks, I’ll let you know how it goes the next time I’m back. Have a good one!”

“You too,” she says. “I hope your friend appreciates it.”

It’s not as nice as treating Vincent to dinner, but maybe what Vincent needs right now is convenience, not luxury. if he’s already made up his mind about working late, then at least he can work late with dinner on the side. Yves doesn’t even have to talk to him, really. He can just leave the soup on Vincent’s desk with a note, as unobtrusively as possible, and then take his leave again.

The drive back is shorter than expected. Yves turns on the radio, if only to not be left with just his thoughts, and listens to the newscaster talk about traffic, and the weather, and a local festival that’s going to be held on friday. When he puts the car into park and pulls the keys out from the ignition, the silence that follows is not reassuring in the least.

He pockets his keys and heads up the stairs, into the office building, and takes the elevator up to the fifth floor. The office is well-lit, even this late at night—it gives the impression of it being perpetually daytime, even though the clock on the wall says otherwise.

He takes a post-it note off of Cara’s desk, scrawls on: Figured you wouldn’t have time to get dinner, so I got you soup, and signs it: -Y. He sticks the note onto the paper bag, regards it for a moment, and then—after reconsidering—staples it on, just in case.

Then he heads off—past rows and rows of desks, around the corner and through the hallway, past the break room, to stop at the doorway which overlooks the room where Vincent sits.

Vincent is still at his desk, paging through documents with one hand, scrolling through what looks to be a long list of email correspondences with the other. From this distance, it’s hard to tell that anything is off, except—

He looks exhausted. It’s subtle, but once Yves notices it, he can’t stop noticing it. It’s present in the way Vincent holds himself, as if the wiry frame of the office chair is the only thing keeping him properly upright. It’s in the way he blinks hard at his monitor, his eyebrows furrowed slightly, as if he’s been staring at it for hours.

There’s a mug of what looks to be black coffee on his desk, half empty but still steaming, which seems to imply that he plans on staying much later. Yves clears his throat.

“Still working hard?” he says.

Vincent’s gaze snaps up to where Yves is standing. “Yves,” he says. “I thought you left.”

“I did.”

“Did you forget something here?” Vincent dog-ears the page he’s flipped to, then sets the stack of papers off to the side. “I can help you look.”

“No,” Yves says. “Well, not exactly. I know you said you didn’t want to be bothered. I promise I’ll be out of here soon.”

“Okay,” Vincent says, expectantly.

“Have you eaten?”

“I ate,” Vincent says. The relief Yves feels, at that statement, is unfortunately short-lasted. “Lunch. A few hours ago.”

“Lunch was eight hours ago.”

“I’ll eat tomorrow.”

“Will you catch up on sleep tomorrow too?”

“If I manage to finish this by then,” Vincent says, “Then yes.”

Yves stares at him. Does Vincent really, truly think there’s nothing wrong with any of this? With whatever sleepless, miserable late-night work session he’s already seemingly resigned himself to? “So what? You’re going to crash on the couch here?”

“I’ll head home around 4,” Vincent says.

4am. “And what? Lay down for fifteen minutes?”

“Three hours, maybe,” Vincent says, turning aside to muffle a cough into his elbow. “I don’t live that far.”

He says all of this in earnest, as though none of it strikes him as even the slightest bit unreasonable. Yves can’t help it—he doesn’t think he could hide the incredulity in his voice even if he tried. “You have to be kidding me.”

Finally, Vincent’s face shifts to show—something. Something other than the utter blankness from before, something past the civil, perfectly drawn business facade. Yves doesn’t have to look for very long to register it as frustration. “What part of my answer was unclear?”

“None of it is unclear,” Yves says. “It’s just… exceptionally unreasonable.”

“By some arbitrary metric of yours, sure.”

“Ask anyone else at the office and they’d agree with me.”

“What you—or anyone else at the office—think about my sleep schedule doesn’t concern me.”

“Let me help,” Yves says. “Please. We’ll get it done twice as fast if I help. Or if you really don’t trust me, hand it off to someone you do trust.”

“There’s no need. It’s my work to get done.”

“You should be at home right now, not working overtime on your first day back,” Yves says. He looks over all of it, now—over the desktop computer and the monitor, the charts and graphs laid out on screen, the piles of paperwork currently occupying Vincent’s desk. There’s a pang in his chest that he hadn’t quite accounted for. “It can’t be pleasant doing all of this with a headache.”

Vincent blinks at him. “What headache?”

“The one you’ve had since before I left.” Vincent can attempt to deny it if he wants. But between Leon, Yves’s younger brother, and Victoire, his younger sister—who’ve caught their fair share of colds throughout the years, between the other members of the crew team he’d spent his 6ams with—who he’s seen frequently tired and occasionally under the weather—Yves thinks he’s well equipped to recognize a headache.

And Vincent looks as put-together as always, for the most part—he looks like he could’ve just walked out of a photoshoot for some classy magazine, his hair neat, his tie done neatly, his suit jacket criminally well-fitted to his shoulders. But Yves doesn’t miss the stiff set of his jaw and the tension strung through his posture, the way he tilts his head ever-so-slightly away from the bright overhead lights as if it hurts to look at them, the way he rubs his eyes or pinches the bridge of his nose, always subtle enough to go unnoticed. The way he holds himself, now, as if it’s taking all of his energy to appear so presentable.

“I don’t,” Vincent starts. “I haven’t—”

“I can tell, you know,” Yves says, a little dejectedly. “I’m pretty sure it’s my fault you have one, anyways.”

Vincent frowns. “Talking to you hasn’t given me a headache.”

“Not that,” Yves says. “But I’d imagine that spending all of New Year’s Eve next to me when I was under the weather might have.”

Yves watches the surprise flicker across Vincent’s face.

“So that’s what this is about?” Vincent says slowly, his eyebrows furrowing. He looks—confused, now, taken aback by Yves’s admission—and then a little sad. “You’re just here because you feel guilty.”

“I do feel guilty,” Yves agrees—that much is true. “But that’s not why I’m here.” he feels hopeless, suddenly, attempting to explain himself to someone who would probably have preferred it if he never bothered. Perhaps he shouldn’t have come. Perhaps it was presumptuous to think that he could help in the first place. “I realize now that I can’t change your mind on any of this. But even if you plan to stay here all night, I— I just thought maybe I could—”

He’s interrupted with a harsh, “hhHh’NGk-t!” which jerks Vincent forward in his seat. Then a soft, wet sniffle, and then another— “Excuse m—Hhh’GKT!”, neatly pinched off into his hands. Vincent’s eyes flutter shut as he cups both his hands over his mouth, his eyebrows drawing together as his shoulders tremble with an inhale: “hih… hiIIh… hI’GKSCHHuuh-! Snf-! hH… HEh’DZSSChhUH!”

It’s immediately followed up with a few harsh, grating coughs which leave Vincent hunched over slightly, his glasses slightly askew, his hands still cupped to his face.

“Bless you,” Yves says, a little stunned.

Vincent doesn’t say anything to that—he just reaches across the desk for a tissue and blows his nose quietly into it, before he discards the tissue into a small metal trash can under the desk. The tips of his ears look a little red.

His throat probably hurts too, Yves realizes, with a jolt. Yves really shouldn’t be prolonging this conversation if he can help it.

“I, uh, brought soup,” he says awkwardly. The paper bag crinkles slightly as he lifts it. “Just so you wouldn’t have to skip dinner entirely. That’s why I was gone earlier. I initially meant to just drop it off here, not—” he clears his throat. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to argue with you.”

Vincent is quiet for a moment longer. Then he says, “You didn’t have to do that.”

“What? Bring you dinner?

“You didn’t have to come back at all.”

“I know that,” Yves says. “But I wanted to.”

Vincent takes the bag from him, lifts the post-it note so he can read the few lines Yves has scrawled onto it. He turns aside to muffle a few coughs into his sleeve. “This must have been a lot of trouble.”

“Not more trouble than attending a New Year’s party on someone else’s behalf, that’s for sure,” Yves says. It’s a wonder that Vincent agreed to that arrangement in the first place—Yves doesn’t know how he’ll even begin to make it up to him. “If we’re keeping count, I still owe you.”

Vincent regards him for a moment, his expression unreadable. “I never thought that you owed me.”

“Okay,” Yves says. “Then I’m doing this on my own accord.”

“What do you possibly have to gain from that?”

Is it not obvious enough? Yves sighs. “Nothing. I care about you.”

Carefully, slowly, Vincent opens the bag, shifts his documents over to the other side of the desk, and takes out the two containers of soup. Yves regards them closely—hopefully they’ve still retained most of their warmth, even after the drive here.

“I’m not sure if they’ll be to your taste,” he says, a little sheepishly. “If you tell me what you like, next time I’ll try to keep it in mind.”

“I’m not picky,” Vincent says. He rummages through the paper bag for a spoon. “I think I’d like both of these. Have you eaten already?”

“Not yet,” Yves says. Perhaps he should’ve picked up dinner for himself at Good Day, too—he’d been so preoccupied with getting something for Vincent that he’d forgotten. Either way, it’s inconsequential. There’s probably enough in the fridge to last a day or two before his next grocery run.

“You also got dinner for yourself, right?”

Yves must hesitate for a moment too long.

“That’s a little hypocritical,” Vincent says. “Do you want to pull up a chair?”

“What?”

“You haven’t eaten. You brought two soups.”

“They were both supposed to be for you.”

“You’re already here.” Vincent says. He shuts his laptop and leaves it off to the side, clears a space on the table, and sets the chicken farro soup in front of Yves. As if it really is that simple.

Yves stares down at it, a little perplexed. I thought you didn’t want to speak to me, he wants to say.

“Unless you’d just prefer to take this home,” Vincent says, misinterpreting his silence as hesitation.

“No,” Yves says. “You’re right. I’ll pull up a chair.”

—

Yves ends up dragging over a chair from one of the tables nearby—he makes a mental note to put it back before they leave. Vincent shuts his laptop and leaves it off to the side.

“Now we’re both staying past nine,” Vincent says.

“Yes,” Yves says. “I’ve always wanted to see what this place turns into at night.”

“Does it live up to your expectations?” “It’s a bit of a ghost town,” Yves says. “But not in a bad way. Feels like I could take all the snacks out of the break room and no one would bat an eye.”

“That’s the real reason why I’m here right now,” Vincent says, so deadpan that it barely sounds like a joke. Yves laughs.

Something about this scene—about sitting with Vincent, here, having dinner on the only corner of his office desk that isn’t occupied by documents—feels a little nostalgic.

“This is just like when I first joined,” he says. “When you were helping me with all the onboarding stuff.”

Back when he first joined, Vincent’s desk was a frequent destination. It’s not that Vincent is particularly friendly—it’s more just that Vincent is really, really good. He has expertise in things that he’s only done once in his life, and he can spot mistakes at a glance. He’s patient, too, even though Yves thinks that if the roles had been reversed, anyone teaching Vincent anything would never have to exercise any patience at all.

He can’t blame Angelie for looking to Vincent for help, either. It wasn’t that long ago that Yves was the one hovering at his desk, watching Vincent go through relevant work over his shoulder.

“The first couple weeks are - snf-! - always difficult,” Vincent says. “But you picked things up quickly.”

“I can’t imagine you as a beginner at anything,” Yves muses.

“Everyone’s - snf -! - a beginner at s-some— hH-! Just a second—” Vincent turns his head away sharply, burying his nose into his shoulder before— “hh’GKt-! Hh… Hhh’IIZSCchuhH! snf-! Hh-! hhih… HiH’GKT-!... Hh… hHih… hIH’IKTSHhh’uuh!”

“Bless you,” Yves says reflexively.

“Thank you,” Vincent says, with a small cough, which he muffles into his sleeve. He sighs. His voice has held up pretty well, but Yves can hear the muted edge of congestion in his voice, softening his consonants. “What was that you said to me? ‘You’ll get tired of that phrase really quickly?’”

“I won’t if you get over this cold soon,” Yves says. “Maybe that’s the real reason why I brought soup.”

“So that’s why you’re being suspiciously nice to me,” Vincent says, with a laugh. “I’m relieved to know you’ve had ulterior motives all along.”

Everything gets easier, after that. Vincent seems to enjoy the soup, for the way his eyes widen, almost imperceptibly, after he takes his first bite. (“So I was right to think you’d like miso,” Yves says, and Vincent laughs and says, “Am I really that predictable?”) When Yves offers again to help, after dinner, Vincent wordlessly hands him a small stack of business proposals. It’s not much, but just the fact that he’s agreeing to let Yves help is already a step in the right direction—give Yves an inch, and he’ll take a mile.

Yves looks through all of the documents he’s handed, scrawling notes in the margins, and then goes through another third of the stack of unreviewed paper on Vincent’s desk, while Vincent scrolls through pages of spreadsheets, processing data and creating new graphs. Vincent is almost frighteningly efficient, even when he’s not feeling his best—they lapse into a comfortable silence, interrupted only by the occasional, near-inaudible hitch in Vincent’s breath, always followed by a wrenching sneeze, or two.

There’s the coughing, too—always muffled tightly into his sleeve, after Vincent turns to face away from him, which must be exhausting. Yves doesn’t know why he bothers. It’s not as though he can catch this cold again.

(“Bless you,” Yves says, after the tenth-or-so sneeze, trying not to let the concern creep into his voice. “I think the pharmacy near 59th is still open. If you want, I can stop by and grab you something for your symptoms.”

“No need,” Vincent says. “If it - hh-! - gets bad enough, I’ll — Hhh-!”

“Bless you again—”

“hihH’IZSCHhhuh! - snf-! - I’ll get something myself.”

Yves wonders what his metric for bad enough is. Then again, it’s probably better not to press.)

It’s nearly eleven before Yves decides to head home at last.

“I can’t thank you enough,” Vincent says, with a rueful sniffle. “You must be tired.” “Not really,” Yves says. “I usually sleep pretty late. If you’re still feeling this bad tomorrow, take the day off.”

“I’ll think about it,” Vincent says.

Yves sighs. “At the very least, promise me you’ll head home sooner rather than later?”

“No promises,” Vincent says—though at the disapproving look Yves gives him, he amends, “But I’ll try.”

He sounds like he means it, at the very least. Yves supposes he’ll take what he can get.

[ Part 6 ]

#snz fic #sneeze fic #sneeze kink #snz kink #snz #i cannot decide if i want to write another chapter of this where vincent gets even worse or if #i should advance their story in the plot sense #i do like these two and want to write more of them in the future if people are still interested in reading more of them :')#my fic #yvverse

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takeyourcyanide · 3 months

Text

A Buzzing

Summary: Marie returns from a shitty date and Stein is not doing great. Are we surprised at all

I think my writing is becoming sort of one note. Maybe I’ll start writing for the younger cast.

- - - - - -

Marie, exhausted from the not-so-great date she just went on, trudged through the doors of Stein’s laboratory, and her temporary living quarters.

“Franken, I’m home now,” Marie informed Stein, wherever he happened to be.

As she took off her shoes, she set out to find Stein. She happened to notice the sound of a keyboard, as well as Stein very clearly moving around the room in his chair.

She went towards his office, opening the door, and curiously called out, “Stein?”

Stein was visibly startled, lightly jumping in response.

“Hey, Marie. I didn’t know you were home,” he stated.

“The moment I walked through the door I said I was home,” Marie teasingly chuckled, one eyebrow raised with interest.

“Oh.. I suppose I didn’t hear you,” Stein said, losing himself in thought.

“What are you doing in here, anyway?” Asked Marie as she looked around the room. Marie noticed a clearly dead frog lying in one of Stein’s medical trays, held down by pins. Its abdomen had been held open by pins, as well. Syringes filled with substances unknown to Marie lied beside the corpse, and beside the tray. She had also noticed that what looked to be Google Docs opened on his computer. He had typed something she couldn’t read well from where she was standing.

“Injecting a frog with hydrogen peroxide and recording the results,” Stein spoke, pointing towards the frog, and then proceeding to point at his monitor.

Marie lightly smiled in amusement, shooting Stein a “did you have nothing else better to do” look.

“Lord Death hasn’t been assigning me much work. I haven’t had much to research lately, unfortunately,” Stein stated, shrugging his shoulders, visibly disturbed by the notion that he had nothing to do.

Marie sighed, giving Stein a gentle look.

“Yes, and I know that’s hard for you, but it’s for the best right now. At least until you’re a little better again, or until we absolutely cannot get anyone else to complete a certain task,” Marie stated sweetly. Stein looked down for a brief moment, seemingly contemplating something.

Stein lifted his head up, staring directly into Marie’s eyes. He gave her this miserable and tired look, sending a shot of both sympathy and empathy down her spine.

Stein reached in one of his pockets and fished for his pack of cigarettes, grabbing one and lighting it.

“I thought you were trying to quit,” Marie said, mildly confused.

Stein, after taking a relatively long and deep drag of his cigarette, replied, “I gave up. It only caused me to be even more irritable.”

“And anyway, I’m perfectly fine. I can work just fine,” Stein replied to the statement Marie had made earlier.

“Try telling Lord Death that,” Marie sighed, beginning to leave the room.

“You can’t just drown yourself in work and ignore your problems, Stein.”

Stein took another drag of his cigarette, this time leaving it sitting in his mouth. He looked down at his pale, cold hands, and over at the decomposing frog. When he looked back at Marie, she gave him a concerned look of pity, opening the door.

“When’s the last time you ate something, Stein?” The woman ask worriedly.

“I don’t remember. Maybe this morning,” Stein replied in his typical monotone manner.

Marie’s eyebrows furrowed in response, little butterflies of pure concern and mild anxiety stirring within her. Stein was a man that remembers everything.

“How about I cook you something?” Marie kindly offered.

“That would be nice, but I’m busy…” Stein stated, once again peering over at the pinned down frog specimen.

“Stein, you can continue later,” Marie said - or rather, nicely ordered the clearly overtired man.

“Come out and eat something with me. I bet it’d be good for you. You might feel a tiny bit better.”

“I never claimed to have been feeling bad, though, Marie,” Stein matter-of-factly stated.

Marie tilted her head, once again shooting him a “stop spouting a load of bullshit” look, placing her hands on her hips in a particularly sassy manner.

“That doesn’t matter. The dark circles under your eyes might as well be covering your whole face,” Marie teased.

“How’d your date go, by the way?”

“Don’t try to change the subject, Stein,” Marie narrowed her eyes slightly, chuckling. Stein pouted.

“Come on out and let me make you something and I’ll tell you all about it, you big baby,” Marie walked back over towards Stein, wrapping her arms around the pouty man’s forearm and forcefully dragging him out of his office chair.

“Fine.”

- - - - - -

Marie was now in the kitchen, Stein seated on the couch after having put out his cigarette. Typically, Stein would actually be the one to whip something up - well, now that they were living together. Before Marie scolded him into eating at least one proper meal a day, he didn’t even have proper silverware or plates or cups or anything.

Marie decided on something easy and relatively light - chicken and rice. It was their go-to.

Marie, despite attempting to focus on her current culinary goals, couldn’t help but turn back repeatedly to observe Stein.

Stein was seemingly entirely zoned out - in other world, almost. His eyes were opened wide, he wasn’t blinking at all - which was not exactly surprised, as the man didn’t blink as often as most, but not at all? That’s certainly odd, even for him.

He wasn’t moving. The only movement Marie could see was the delicate rising and falling of his chest. Even that was just barely noticeable.

This wasn’t exactly an uncommon occurrence.

Stein has been doing this since they were children. He’d zone out on one specific area on the room, assume a one thousand yard stare, not move, not speak, hardly breathe, not blink - nothing. He looked to be simultaneously dead and lost in thought.

Marie had come up with multiple different things to do when he was in this state in an attempt to get him out of his stupor. From ruffling his hair and waving her hand in front of his face, to simply having a one-sided conversation with him.

Marie would save that for later, though, after she would get done cooking.

She hoped he wasn’t too submerged inside of his own head.

Maybe she’d try speaking with him now, actually.

“Hey, Stein?” She called out.

She received a low and quiet hum of acknowledgment from the man - a good sign. He still did not move at all or look towards anything other than the specific portion of the wall he was focusing on, however.

“You asked about my date, right?”

“Mhm.”

Marie laughed quietly to herself, saying, “I never even told you who I was going out with, did I?”

“Mm-mm.”

“Well, it was a man I met in that quaint little coffee shop you like to go to sometimes,” Marie begins, “his name is Wyatt.”

“Wyatt was pretty nice and charming at first, but once we actually went out, he turned out to be a real dick,” Marie grimaced to herself.

“He was super insecure and sexist. I offered to split the bill to be polite, and he went on this rant about ‘modern women,’ and how they want to be too much like men nowadays, and how he thought I was one of the few ‘good ones’ left,” Marie physically made air quotes with a mildly annoyed look at her face, recalling the events of earlier that evening.

“So, I left the raging misogynistic asshole behind to pay for the whole damn meal like he so wanted to! Despite making a huge fuss about the bill, he called me a bitch as I left!” Marie exclaimed, quickly growing more and more passionate.

By the time she had finished her story, the food was ready.

Marie placed the food onto one of the many plates she had to bring in, walking it over to the couch where Stein still sat like a corpse.

Marie attempted to hand the food over to him, but he made no movement.

She sat down, pulling the plate into her lap. She cut a piece of the chicken, stabbing it with the fork, and holding it out towards his mouth.

“Does the baby need me to feed him?” Marie had a wickedly teasing smirk on his face, hoping that her teasing would startle him out of his stupor.

Luckily for her, Stein looked over at her, a small smile lightly tugging at the sides of his mouth.

Stein opened his mouth, quickly closing it around the fork, and smirking as he allowed Marie to effectively feed him.

Marie’s eyes widened slightly, not expecting him to actually go through with it.

Stein chuckled sadistically as he ate.

“It’s good,” he stated, his voice a bit hoarse and dead, with a teasing lilt to it.

“But I can feed myself, Marie, thank you.”

Marie smiled, handing the food and fork over to him. She sat back on the couch, staring off into space as he ate.

Stein soon finished his food - or most of it, at least - taking his dirty dishes to the sink.

Once he returned, he sat by Marie, saying, “He most likely had a small penis, honestly.”

Marie snorted, eyes wide.

“Was he short?” Stein asked curiously.

“Not really,” Marie answered, laughter interrupting her.

“Then his dick was either below average, defective, or both. Or perhaps early childhood trauma shaped his worldview,” Stein hypothesized about the man whilst Marie laughed.

“Anyway, baby needs to be put down for a nap, I’m fucking exhausted,” Stein said, smirking.

“Don’t make it weird, Stein,” Marie scolded, still laughing.

“Actually, I’m not sleeping now. I’m going to return to my dear frog prince now. Thank you for the meal. Have fun,” Stein said, quickly lifting himself up from the couch and running off towards his office.

Marie scoffed in offense, hoping he’d simply just forget about the stupid frog.

“Get back here, Stein, and go to bed!” She yelled, running towards him.

“How about no,” Stein said, smirking once more as Marie opened the door to find him, syringe in hand.

“Decomposition stops for no one, Marie. I could slow it down, though.”

Marie sighed in exasperation, shaking her head, wondering why she was this man’s partner.

“Fine. But you really shouldn’t stay up for too long. Going to sleep at six in the morning every night isn’t good for you. And do you want to know what else stops for no one? Dying of a lack of sleep, Stein,” Marie lectured, holding her pointer finger up for emphasis.

Stein chuckled in response, his attention returning to the frog.

Marie rolled her eyes, leaving the room and heading towards her own bedroom, ready to change into comfortable clothing and go to sleep, completely and utterly exhausted.

- - - - - -

Marie groggily and slowly opens her eyes. She is immediately met with the darkness of her bedroom, as well as a full bladder. She looks over at the clock on the bedside table, the clock reading “4:36 AM.”

Marie groaned, got out of bed and trudged towards the washroom.

As she made her way downstairs, she noticed the light in Stein’s office was still on, said light spilling out from underneath his door.

Marie rolled her eyes, and continued toward the bathroom.

- - - - - -

Marie turned off the faucet, massaging her temples as she exited the washroom.

She decided she’d go check in on Stein, of whom was evidently still up to no good.

Once at his office door, she gently knocked, attempting to avoid startling the man.

Marie received no response.

She turned the knob slowly, opening the door, only to be met with Stein slumped over on his desk, just sleeping away.

His computer was still on, the screen partially dimly displaying photos of decomposing human bodies on one side, and an article on the neurobiology of morality and moral thinking.

Marie was mildly disturbed, but given how used to this she was, she only shook her head and lazily smiled in response.

Marie placed her hands on Stein’s broad and limp shoulders, lightly shaking him.

“Stein. Stein, wake up,” Marie repeated and she shook the sleepy man awake.

Stein groaned, lifting his head up slowly and groggily, eyes narrow, as he looks at Marie’s amused expression.

“Hm?” Stein begrudgingly voiced his tired curiosity. Why was she not in bed? Did she want something?

“I’m sure that desk isn’t nearly as comfortable as your bed, Stein,” Marie ruffled the slightly grumpy scientist’s hair as he stared at her with a look of both fascination and slight annoyance.

“Was that really worth disturbing my sleep over? I haven’t slept in a while,” Stein spoke.

“I want you to get proper rest,” Marie stated, effectively hushing the questioning of Stein.

“Proper rest is not currently a possibility for me.”

“Come on, just try,” Marie encouragingly and playfully attempted to convince Stein.

Stein shook his head.

“Aw, why not?” Marie asked.

“It doesn’t work. I’ll just hallucinate all night… Or what I assume are hallucinations anyway. What if they’re not, Marie?” Stein stared up at Marie with childishly large eyes that reflected the man’s internal predicament.

He was going back and forth with himself endlessly. The logical portion of his mind told him that random dead people were not coming to whisper in his ears and stare at him, and that bugs weren’t crawling on him, and that these are clearly just symptoms of his madness - but the other portion of his mind told him that that’s just what everyone wants him to believe, because they are actively plotting against him and attempting to ruin him. Or perhaps he is a science experiment that everyone is in on. They know something he doesn’t.

He could practically hear, even feel these two sides battling it out. It was utterly miserable.

Marie stared at him with an expression of pity and concern, raising her hand to caress his hair comfortingly.

“I’m sorry, Stein,” was all that Marie uttered in that moment. She could tell him that they were in fact hallucinations, but his own mind might still stand to tell him otherwise. Plus, Marie knew she’d never understand the problems that plagued Stein, at least not from a personal perspective. All she could really do was monitor his mental state.

Stein’s wide eyes grew impossibly in size, now possessing this look of pure desperation and hollowness. It almost looked to be his way of begging for someone to just help him, to understand him, to give him an answer.

An answer to what - he did not know.

Perhaps his problems.

There was something Stein so desperately wanted - this longing has plagued him. And yet he can’t quite put his finger on what it is. Nothing seems to satisfy the longing.

Marie ultimately found this expression both fascinating and terribly depressing. The way in which Stein managed to appear so soulless and yet so full of longing - longing to fill whatever void exists within him.

In reality, as edgy as it may have sounded, Stein believed that he himself was the void - the black hole.

He, for his own gain, consumes all matter that surrounds him. Yet, he is never quite satisfied. He needs more. His curiosity can never be satiated. He himself can never be satiated. There is something he desires, but because he does not know what that is, he will simply consume all that is around him, hoping that it will satisfy the singularity within him.

All that comes near him dies.

He is never ashamed of that nor proud of that.

Simply indifferent.

And one day, he will fully manage to succumb to himself.

To consume himself.

Marie continues her comforting gesture, as she attempts to lift him out of his chair.

Stein stands with the blonde, wobbling a little as he gets up.

“Come on, let’s get you to bed, yeah? What do you say?”

When Marie received no response, she observed that he has once again zoned out, looking even emptier than before.

Stein was left in the utter misery that came with not truly wanting to do anything, and yet wanting to do everything; being simultaneously bored and understimulated by everything, and fascinated and overstimulated by everything. He was truly a work of patchwork - held together by stitches that are barely holding back from popping completely out, and allowing his genuine soul to spill out from the open wounds.

Marie titled her head in concern as she attempted to move Stein towards the door.

Fortunately he followed her, simply remaining silent. There were too many things that Stein simultaneously wanted and didn’t want to say.

He opted for silence.

Eventually, they made it to his bedroom. Marie took him to his bed, sitting him down on it.

Stein crawled in, getting comfortable as he stared simply at the ceiling, and then at the ever-so-worried Marie.

“Will you be all right, Stein?” She asked kindly.

“Yes, I’ll be perfectly fine.”

Marie furrowed her brows in response, but made her way out of the room anyway.

The moment Marie shut the door, the loud cacophony of silence and static cascading throughout his ears.

He enjoyed silence, but constant ringing and static he’s been hearing have been bothering him greatly.

Stein turned to lay on his side, holding an extra bit of blanket to his chest comfortingly.

He stared into the darkness of his bedroom, pondering intently.

Multiple discussions were being had in his head at once, some science-adjacent, some maddening ones, some entirely incoherent yet clearly present, some people-adjacent, some him-adjacent, some language-adjacent, etc.

It was like constant buzzing in his mind, a buzzing he was quite used to by now.

Eventually, Stein succumbed to a dream-filled slumber, simultaneously having been soothed and greatly annoyed by the incoherency wandering about inside of his head.

Incoherency was his coherency.

#soul eater #franken stein #stein #stein soul eater #dr stein #marie mjolnir #derealization #dissociation #fluff #dwma #hurt/comfort

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tf-lover · 9 months

Text

Commissions!

Hey all! I've decided it's about time I open up writing commissions, so here's a little post detailing how it's going to work!

First off, sending me a message is going to be by far the easiest way to contact me about comissions, NOT asks. I'll want to talk you you a little about the idea before we go any further (see rules 2 and 3 below), so start there and we can figure out what's going on. Secondly, as I've already mentioned, please check out the rules below. Details on pricing is at the bottom (rule 4) so keep that in mind when getting in contact.

How many commissions I take on at once will depend largely on the level of interest and my own writing mood, but I'll try to keep an update either on this post, on my pinned one, or in my bio as to if I'm open to them at the moment or not.

Anyway, without further ado here's the rules for commissioning me. Make sure you read them!

Rules:

1. reserve the right to say no to commissions.

Regardless of the reason, I may not give one, if I say no it's a no. Maybe I don't like the idea, maybe I'm busy with life or other commissions, maybe I'm just not in the mood to write at the moment or am working on new stories. Don't constantly hound me asking if I've changed my mind, I will just block you without hesitation. (Use common sense here, if you want to politely ask again if my time/mood was the issue I'm not going to bite your head off.)

Also, please keep in mind I have a life outside of this. If you message me asking about a commission and I don't respond straight away I'm probably just busy or asleep. I will reply to everyone that enquires though, it just might take me a second.

2. Be creative, but realistic.

Requests that just say "Turn me into a jock!" will likely get a no. Make it a little more interesting, come up with a plot or throw some more tf's in there. Not that there's anything wrong with a good jock tf, but there's only so many I can write.

Be realistic about the length too. I can't fit a hugely detailed tf AND a plot in 1000 words, it just won't happen. I'll leave some examples of rough length linked below so you have a rough idea.

500 words (Caption Series - The Wrong Trousers)

1000 words (Caption Series - Tailored)

1500 words (Shifting Gear Part 1)

2000 words (For Men)

3000 words (The Morning After)

If you're insane super generous and want examples of longer pieces than that I'll happily refer you to some.

3. Things I won't do.

Some of these go without saying:

Underage

Feet

Bathroom stuff (watersports, scat etc)

Hardcore pain/violence/rape

Chastity

Hyper/non-realistic sizes

Animal tf's (furry stuff welcome though)

Heavy female focus (gender tf is fine in either way, but I'm primarily a MALE tf author)

Celebrity tf's (more below on this one)

Don't ask, I won't write them.

As mentioned, I don't generally do celebrity tf's. "Turn me into Chris Evans!" style stuff. As much as there are a lot of very attractive celebrities, it's just never really interested me to become them specifically; original characters are usually more my thing. There is of course some flexibility with this, so if you're not sure you can always ask. If the idea is good enough (and the guy hot enough) maybe I'll make an exception, the worst I can say is no after all.

4. Payment & Delivery.

I charge £0.04 per word, which is equivalent to £40 per 1000 words, or £20 for 500 words. Payment is via PayPal, in full, up front. I won't start writing until I've been paid.

In terms of delivery, I write in Google docs, so will send you both a viewable link to that document and a pdf of the final thing provided you give me an email to send the pdf to. Otherwise you can save a pdf of the story yourself from there.

5. Images & Posting.

Final word on images included in these. You're welcome to bring your own you'd like me to write around. If not, I'm happy to attempt to find one's I deem appropriate for the particular story if you'd like me to, but I make no promises. If I can't find something that works or you don't like the selections I offer I won't go to great lengths to find something. These are writing commissions in the end, so keep that in mind.

I'll also include a word on posting these commissions here. If you specifically don't want me to post yours please let me know at some point during the process, otherwise I may post some of them here and there when I feel like it after they've been delivered. If you're happy for me to post the commission but would like to remain anonymous (i.e. not tagged in the post) do let me know as well. This one is an easy one to forget, so I'll follow up with you on posting after I've delivered it.

- Tf Lover

Also, for those of you that don't want to or can't commission me, you can also tip me here on Tumblr, or over on ko-fi (link here)! You don't have to of course by any means, but any support people want to throw my way is always welcome.

#not a story #tf commissions

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victoriacoffee · 2 months

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Hey guys! Uh I felt like I should say something about the fandom

// mentions of self harm, suicidal ideation

This is gonna be long, sorry!

Heyyyy, sorry I've been so uhhh hardly active online...I've been trying to come back to posting online and stuff just idk it's been a pretty rough several months and every time I think my motivation is back enough it disappears. I'm currently tryna work things out in therapy as a result of how bad certain things have gotten in the last few months, I'm not gonna say what it was but based on my writing with a lot of focus on self harm and suicidal ideation, you can probably guess.

At this point I think I'm about to just not even bother logging into twitter anymore and pretty much use this and ao3 and pinterest and stuff (maybe occasionally instagram idk tho that place kinda sucks). It would probably help me be more active on here tbh since yall seem not really do a lot of the things that make my mh worst XD

Alright, anyway I'm currently editing a few different fics I've been working on for a while, several of them decided to be in the 50-100 page on google docs range whether I liked it or not, so that and my current disasterous working situation is why it's taking a ridiculous amount of time. If I had a functional posting schedule, ig I wouldn't be an ao3 user. I was gonna include a statement in one of them about this, but I decided this needed to be said here first

So I don't think I plan on leaving the dsmp fandom no matter what happens at this point. The average length of interest in a fandom is like what 10 years? Idk I heard that from some yt. If so, I'm approaching the halfway mark with the dsmp, which is insane to think about, and I don't plan on jumping off that train any time soon. The stories were intriguing and the cc's and their characters and music and stuff have gotten me through the lowest points of my life, so it's very hard to forget that.

Even if the cc's turn out to not be great, I still have their characters, and I'm not willing to give up this coping mechanism just yet because I feel like not having one when everything else in my life seems to be going to shit wouldn't be that great

I see it like if you liked a character in a movie and the actor that played them turned out to be bad, would you still like the character? I would.

cc!Wilbur turned out to be a shitty person. His song about being a wanker and a fucking waste of time was in fact spot on. Fuck that guy. I'm done with his stuff but I'm still gonna write his character

There are a lot of things erupting on twitter right now, I'm not sure what's going on and I do Not have the mental fortitude to find out at this point. I can't say I believe everything because after the Dream situation last fall...I'm just holding off my judgement for now. I'll probably go looking once the dust starts to settle but right now it's all a huge mess and everything is up in the air

I can't guarantee anything at this point, but I will most likely continue to write c! stagedduo and most likely draw and crochet them. I do not have another coping mechanism and the brainrot over the story of the dsmp will likely not go away

Uhhh really sorry I keep falling off the face of the earth, but I think I'm back now. I don't know what the future holds, but this is probably gonna become about the only social media i use now and I think i might just make an alt account or something for my other art so i can stop posting on instagram all together hopefully. Everytime i open that app it makes me more sad and then I never get around to opening this

Due to the severity of what I mentioned earlier, I'm just going to say that I'm not feeling like *that* right now, I feel like I'm actually very gradually starting to get out of the not great mental state I've been in for basically since high school, but I'm not gonna let twitter and the potential of social media harassment fuck that up, so from now on y'all are gonna be like 90% of my social media interactions most likely and I'm not gonna let whatever the hell twitter does in the next few weeks take my favorite characters from me.

I love c!Dream and c!Punz. Their dynamic is excellent be it drunz or stageduo. I'm gonna keep writing them.

They look like the cc's but they still very much exist separately of them (irl Dream isn't getting tortured by irl Quackity and Sam or anything lol).

So whatever ends up happening, imma be here most likely. So for those of you who'd like to join me, hey! For those of you who can't take it anymore, I understand.

Oh and for those of you who've been drawing/writing/whatever any cc's who are currently accused or exposed or anything, I encourage you not to delete or destroy your work, you worked hard on it! If you don't wanna look at it rn, put it away for now. If it's character based especially! Don't let the actions of others or the vitriol of twitter take away your favorite characters!

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berryunho · 2 years

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THE ANSWER: Saratoga

Kim Hongjoong doesn’t like the word ‘cult.’ He prefers ‘sect.’ pairing: ateez x fem reader genre: cult au, thriller, angst check warnings on AO3

← previous || next → || masterlist chapter word count: 2,905

Mingi sighs, staring at the blank document in front of him.

This paper is not going to write itself, but, at this rate, neither is Mingi. The Google Docs cursor blinks at him, reminding him of the fact that he isn’t actively typing.

This is stupid, anyways. Why does his professor, who has spent her entire life studying the American Revolution, need Mingi to write a paper on the Battles of Saratoga? Like, shouldn’t she have enough of her own information? Does she really need some poor undergrad to write a paper about it?

Mingi looks at all of the tabs that he has open, scanning across the tiny titles for anything that could motivate him to start this paper. Literally anything.

Considering the amount of tabs open, Mingi is lucky to be able to read even three letters on each tab, so that idea quickly proves fruitless. Groaning, he leans back in his chair, rubbing his face with his hands.

Writing a paper two days before it’s due in the biggest library on campus at two in the morning may not have been his brightest idea ever. But, hey, that’s finals week, right? Plus, he had spent all of yesterday goofing off with (Y/n) instead of writing, but that’s an entirely different thing. That was worth the cramming.

Mingi looks around the library, trying to clear his mind.

Paper. The paper. The Battles of Saratoga. John Burgoyne. Horatio Gates. 10,000 words.

He looks back at the blank Google doc. “I’m gonna cry,” he whispers, leaning forward to rest his face on the desk in front of him.

Mingi is vaguely aware that falling asleep right now would be a very bad idea. But its two in the morning and he’s tired. Would any paper that he wrote right now even be intelligible tomorrow morning? Probably not. Maybe he should just sleep…

Just as Mingi is about to accept his fate, there’s a tap on his back. He startles, quickly sitting back up in order to face the person that snuck up on him with shocking efficiency.

“Oh, sorry, I didn’t mean to scare you.” Jongho says just as Mingi registers who it is.

Mingi lets out a small laugh over his own actions, “No, no, it’s fine. I just didn’t know anyone else was here… What are you doing here?”

Jongho rolls his eyes, “My anthropology professor assigned us some last minute project and said we don’t have to take the final exam if we do this instead, so…” He nods toward Mingi’s open laptop, “Paper not coming along too well?”

“Very badly. You wouldn’t happen to know anything about either Battle of Saratoga, would you?”

“What the hell is that?” Jongho frowns.

“Precisely.”

The two laugh together for a moment, forgetting that they’re in the library. “Shit, we have to be quiet,” Jongho says, albeit between laughs. “Do you want to swing by the vending machines and get a Monster or something? You look tired.”

“I really should probably just write,” Mingi thinks for a moment, “but, yeah, actually, that might help me focus.” He shuts his laptop, not bothering to bundle it up and take it with him. This late at night, who would there be to even steal it?

Once they’re out of the main body of the library, they’re more free to talk normally. They walk side by side, down the hallway and toward the stairs. Whoever decided that the main library should be on the third floor, with the vending machines in the basement, Mingi would never understand.

“So how’s (Y/n)?” Jongho asks, his voice echoing through the empty hall.

“What do you mean? She’s fine, I suppose, maybe stressed about finals.” Mingi thinks for a moment, trying to recall how much he’s told Jongho about her.

Truthfully, Mingi and Jongho hadn’t been friends for very long. They had never even spent time alone together, this being the first time. Jongho was nice enough, but… there’s just something about him. Mingi knows for sure that he’s never met (Y/n), so the fact that he’s asking about her is a little strange.

Jongho cracks a smile, “I mean how are the two of you, I guess. Any developments?”

Mingi lightly shoves Jongho’s shoulder. “Shut up, we don’t like each other like that.” Mingi knows that Jongho is joking, having heard these types of comments from every single one of his friends before. It’s like some long standing bet that Mingi and (Y/n) will get together, but no one knows when.

“Uh-huh. Okay. Whatever you say, Mingi.” The sarcasm is evident in Jongho’s voice, and Mingi supposes it’s for good enough reason.

Mingi definitely likes (Y/n) like that. But she doesn’t like him like that. So it’s just easier to act like he doesn't. Easier to bear the jokes and suck it up. Mingi would never risk losing (Y/n) over something as stupid as his feelings for her, so it’s just better to say nothing at all. Let his friends tease him as much as he wants, as long as (Y/n) doesn’t care, he doesn’t either.

“Doesn’t it hurt, though?” Jongho asks, stopping in the hallway. The question comes out of the blue, and honestly isn’t something that Mingi feels like he has the right to ask. They hardly know each other.

Mingi stops alongside Jongho, turning toward him. “What do you mean?” His tone is accusatory, to match the minor offense he feels by Jongho’s question.

“Being hopelessly in love with someone that can’t tell, doesn’t that hurt?” Jongho looks genuinely curious. “I wouldn’t be able to do it, see her everyday and just pretend like I’m okay just being friends, but maybe that’s just me.” He shrugs.

Mingi doesn’t respond for a moment, wondering if it is really that obvious that he loves her. And, if it is, then why hasn’t she noticed? Mingi blurts out his answer before he can think about it, “It would hurt more to not see her at all.”

“You really think so?” Jongho resumes walking, his pace quite slow. “Wouldn’t it be easier to just rip the bandaid off? Let her reject you and move on with your life, if you really think that that’s what would happen?”

Mingi pauses, his stomach sinking. “Do you think she would reject me?”

Jongho shrugs again. “I don’t know her, but, just from knowing you, I’m gonna say that she wouldn’t. But, if she did, at least you wouldn’t be hung up on her for the rest of your life.’

“But if she rejected me and then I had to see her everyday, that might be hard, don’t you think?”

“Who says you would have to see her everyday?”

Mingi’s brows furrow. “What do you mean?”

“Just that you don’t have to see her everyday, that’s all.” Jongho says it so nonchalantly that it almost throws Mingi off guard. Mingi can hardly imagine a life where he doesn’t see (Y/n) everyday, and can’t sooner imagine one where he wouldn’t want to. “If you really wanted to get away, I know a place.”

Mingi nods his head, leaving Jongho to be cryptic with himself. Mingi honestly has no desire to ‘get away’ at least not at this moment. Maybe get away from his stupid paper on the stupid Battles of Saratoga, but not from (Y/n), not at all.

.・。.・゜✭ ⧖ ・.・ ⧖ ✫・゜・。.

“Can I talk to you about something?” Mingi asks, wringing his hands together in his lap. He hopes that (Y/n) doesn’t see, and he hopes that he can’t detect the nervous waiver in his voice.

Okay, so, maybe Jongho had gotten to him. For whatever reason, Mingi couldn’t get the weird, two a.m. conversation out of his head. While he was able to get a good start on the paper after drinking the Monster he got from the vending machine, he wasn’t able to focus on much else other than (Y/n).

From across the table, (Y/n) shovels a spoonful of soup into her mouth. “Sure?”

Mingi clears his throat a bit, watching her eat her soup. It’s things like this that really make Mingi realize he loves her. The way she holds her spoon, the way she sets her phone down to look at him as he speaks, the way she holds her bowl steady, the way her voice changes as she asks a question, the confused yet comfortable look in her eyes, everything about her. His stomach flips, his nerves going crazy.

He hadn’t planned this speech at all. Hadn’t even thought he was going to say anything until three minutes ago. “We’ve been really close for a while now.”

(Y/n) raises her eyebrows. Setting her spoon down in the bowl in front of her. “Uh-huh.”

“How do you feel when our friends tease us about that? When they say we should just get together already?” Mingi is sure that if he put one of his hands on the table it would leave a noticeable hand print of sweat.

“Its kind of annoying, I guess,” she starts, shrugging, “can’t we just be friends? No one would say anything if we were both guys or both girls.”

Mingi nods, feeling all of his hope deflate out of him. “Oh, yeah, I guess.”

“How do you feel about it?” She asks, “Does it not bother you?”

Shrugging, Mingi gathers all of the courage he can muster, “Maybe a little bit. But sometimes I wonder if they’re right.”

(Y/n) laughs across from him. Laughs. “Right about what? Us being a couple?” She goes back to eating her soup, then. “That’s funny, Mingi.”

“The thought that we could be more is funny to you?” Mingi’s tone is angrier than he had expected it to be. He’s surprised by his own reaction, but there’s not much he can do to take it back.

Her eyes widen. “Why do you sound mad? I just meant that I don’t think of you like that.”

“Sorry,” Mingi starts, standing, “I just don’t think the idea is that funny.” He takes that as his opportunity to walk away, leaving (Y/n) and her soup alone at the table. He has to fight the urge to turn back and look at her, see what her reaction to his statement is.

His phone dings in his pocket as he continues walking. He pulls it out, greeted by a message from none other than (Y/n), “song mingi if you don’t turn around right now so help me god”

Mingi turns on his heel, still able to see (Y/n) from her spot at the table. She’s still sitting there, spoon in hand, as she stares at him. She quickly beckons for him to come back once she sees that he has her attention, but he shakes his head.

Throwing her head back, she looks back at her phone, typing at such a fervent speed that Mingi gets the text only seconds later, “do you have something you need to say to me?????”

Mingi looks up from his phone to her, neither confirming nor denying. While he’s aware that he’s acting like a child, something in him can’t go back. He can’t face this issue right now, not when he’s emotional. In a way, he supposes that he should’ve expected this. Hadn’t he expected rejection anyway? Why is he disappointed? What did he really think would come from asking his best friend if she ever thought they would be together? It seems so stupid to Mingi now, staring at (Y/n) from across the room as she stares back at him in question.

Mingi doesn’t respond to (Y/n)’s text, and he doesn’t go back to her. Instead, he turns on his heel and exits.

.・。.・゜✭ ⧖ ・.・ ⧖ ✫・゜・。.

Things go relatively back to normal after that.

Sure, Mingi doesn’t talk to (Y/n) for a couple of days, but he could never stay upset with her. Though there is a tiny bit of lingering awkwardness (at least on Mingi’s part), it’s not unbearable. For the most part, the pair ignore that Mingi had ever even said anything.

Not that that’s what Mingi had been hoping for. He had wanted to go back to (Y/n) and tell her everything the second after he left her alone with her soup, had wanted to make it some sort of cheesy romcom-esque love confession. Unfortunately, Mingi also knew that he needed to stay sane for the remainder of the week, and decided that embarrassing himself like that would not be the way to do it.

Still, Mingi wants to tell her. He does. The issue is completely compounded now. Now that Mingi was so close to telling her, the way he feels about (Y/n) is becoming almost unbearable. Everything she does, everything she says, every second they’re together makes him love her more. Mingi can feel the words brewing at his lips every time that he’s alone with her, thinking about how easy it would be to just spit out his feelings.

But he doesn’t. He holds his tongue, because he can’t lose her. He couldn’t bear it.

That is, of course, until he bumps into Jongho on his walk back to his dorm. He’s with someone that Mingi has never met before, which Mingi is absolutely positive about because he’s sure that he would remember someone so… interesting.

Mingi is intrigued enough to call out to them, “Jongho?”

“Oh, hey Mingi, we were just looking for you, actually.” Jongho smiles once he notices that he has Mingi’s rapt attention.

“Looking for me? Why?”

Jongho gestures to his friend. “I wanted to introduce you to Hongjoong.”

Mingi looks Hongjoong up and down. In the most polite way possible, he’s… definitely something to look at. He’s dressed like he just walked off the set of Little House on the Prairie, for one thing. Mingi doesn’t like to judge people based on their physical appearances, not at all, but this guy has a mullet. Like an honest to God mullet. And a pretty bad one at that.

Mingi’s caught off guard when Hongjoong sticks his hand out, “It’s nice to meet you, Mingi.”

He takes his hand, shaking it for as short of a socially acceptable time as possible, neglecting to return the sentiment.

“Hongjoong used to be a student here,” Jongho explains, “just wanted to reminisce a bit.”

Hongjoong gives a small laugh, one that Mingi senses isn’t very genuine. “Turns out theology wasn’t for me.”

Mingi uneasily laughs along, “I’ve had that moment plenty of times, though I’m a history major.”

The three men stand in silence for a moment as Mingi tries to think of an excuse to leave. His curiosity has been satisfied, he met the weirdo with Jongho, time to go.

“Well, I actually have to get back to work on my pape-”

“I actually had something I wanted to ask you,” Jongho cuts Mingi off, “Hongjoong, could you give us a second alone?”

Hongjoong nods and walks over to a bench sitting near the sidewalk, sitting down as Jongho lightly grabs Mingi’s arm and pulls him further away.

“Are you doing okay? I found out about (Y/n).” Jongho asks, sounding rather concerned.

How had Jongho heard about his blunder with (Y/n)? He hasn’t even seen Jongho since that night at the library, let alone spoke to him about her.

“What are you referring to, exactly?” Mingi doesn’t want to share his little embarrassment with Jongho if he doesn’t have to.

Jongho’s brows furrow, “You don’t know? Apparently (Y/n) has been going out with some guy named Changbin?”

Now it’s Mingi’s turn to be confused, “What?”

Why wouldn’t she say anything? Why wouldn’t Changbin say anything? Sure, they’ve flirted, but never seriously… at least, that’s what Mingi thought.

“I wasn’t there, but one of my friends told me he saw them at Dirt being rather… friendly with each other.”

Mingi shakes his head, not ready to believe the story. “When was this?” Mingi had spent the past few nights studying with (Y/n), besides Thursday, so if Jongho says any other day, he’ll know that it wasn’t actually (Y/n) that was seen.

“Thursday.” Jongho’s statement deflates any remaining hope that Mingi held onto. “I’m sorry, Mingi, I thought you knew; I thought she would’ve told you.”

Mingi nods, trying to wrap his head around what the hell Jongho just told him. If (Y/n) and Changbin are dating, why wouldn’t either of them say anything? Why had (Y/n) not told him when he tried to confess to her? Is it so new that they don’t want to say anything, in case it doesn’t work out? If that’s the case, though, would they be getting ‘friendly’ at Dirt? (Y/n) isn’t like that, not at all, so the thought is honestly perplexing to Mingi.

Why Changbin? Why not him? What did he have that Mingi didn’t? The guts to ask her out? Did she even like Changbin? She never talked to Mingi about him, outside of normal friendship things. Did he just wear her down enough that she eventually agreed to go out with him and realized that she was actually into him? There’s so many questions that Mingi doesn’t have the answer to.

Why not him?

“What were you telling me the other night? About a place to get away?”

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taglist: @knucklesdeepmingi @atzcoke @kpopnightingale @ferrethyun @silentiona @floatingpluto @wooandtaeluvr @atoz151

a/n: pls take this survey if you've read to this point lol!! i really appreciate the feedback hehe <3

#ateez #ateez ff #ateez angst #ateez series #ateez x reader #kim hongjoong x reader #park seonghwa x reader #jeong yunho x reader #kang yeosang x reader #choi san x reader #song mingi x reader #jung wooyoung x reader #choi jongho x reader #the answer #update

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livingfast04 · 1 year

Text

More of Steddie Hogwarts Au because I'm incapable of not thinking- despite being "no thoughts head empty" every time I open a google doc- --- Eddie wasn't sure when he actually truly, truly fell head over heals. Steve's just- well Steve. There's a few moments that Eddie thinks he knows. He thinks he knows it probably starts sometime before the youngers resort. It might be before the first snort of laughter he manages to coax out of silent lungs. Eddie thinks he lost all battles to staying just friends with Steve Harrington the second that nervous smile greets him outside of their shared History of Magic. Eddie's a total goner. It's been less than three weeks. That he knows then. Soft hazel eyes, they won't even met his own, but that's okay. Eddie isn't a huge fan of eye contact anyway. (He learns later that Steve refuses to met anyone's eyeline due to his Father's cruel usage of Legilimency- and the way Aurors had used it after The Accident) It's that soft, shy gaze, the way his eyes brighten so visibly when Eddie rounds the corner. Its the first time Eddie even notices they do that when Steve notices him. He knows then, that it's more than a crush. But it's not until that scared face is lit up with a smile, tucked against Eddie's side, bathed in Hufflepuff yellow instead of Slytherin green- his bestfriend- Steve's wearing Eddie's robe. It's too big- slips off Steve's still thin shoulders. The Lion displayed proudly on his chest. It's then, in that moment in the great hall, that Eddie knows. He's not crushing, he doesn't just like Steve- he's totally, and helplessly in love with the fluffy haired boy. He knows it even more- when Steve gasps around laughter, when he presses his lips against chapped lips. Feels Steve's smile against his own. --- I'll write Steve's portion later :) This has been just sitting in my drafts for a little bit- so. Thought I'd post it, and then work on Stevie's.

#steddie #steddie hogwarts au #hoh steve harrington #eddie munson #wizard shit idk #steve x eddie #hurt steve harrington #liv is losing their mind #scarred steve harrington #I traumatized that boy-#steve harrington whump #steveddie

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sequinsmile-x · 11 months

Text

Let the Walls Crack

It had always been something she’d thought about, but it was only when she got with Aaron and fell in love with him and his son that she realised a baby was something she could have. That it was something she wanted so much that she ached.

But she may have lost her chance.

-x-

Hi friends,

I sat down at my laptop this afternoon fully intending to write fluff, but then I opened a google doc and this came out??

Please let me know what you think!

-x-

Words: 3.4k

Warnings: Infertility, miscarriage, pregnancy

Read over on Ao3, or below the cut

“I hate going to the doctor.”

Aaron turns to look at her and smiles sadly. She’s not looking at him, her eyes fixed straight ahead as her leg bounces up and down, her thumb in her mouth as she bites at her cuticles, her engagement ring shining in the fluorescent lighting of her doctor’s office. He places his hand on her knee, holding it in place to stop her leg from bouncing as he squeezes the joint. She turns to look at him, her dark eyes shining with anxiety he wishes he could ease.

“I don’t think anyone enjoys it, sweetheart,” he says softly, offering her a half smile, “Everything will be ok.”

She scoffs, shaking her head as her hand falls to her lap, “They don’t call you in to go through test results in person because it’s good news, Aaron.”

She wanted a baby with him.

It had always been something she’d thought about. Even in Rome, she’d known she wanted to have children one day, but the timing and the circumstances couldn’t have been more wrong. As she got older her one defining thought was that if she had children, the idea of when fading during her time with Ian and how it had left her feeling, she would do better than her parents had done with her. It was always a pipe dream. A thought that lived in the corners of her mind, forever chasing her as she got older and time slipped through her fingers. It was only when she got with Aaron, when she fell in love with him and his son, that she realised it was something she could have. That it was something she wanted so much that she ached.

But she may have lost her chance.

The damage Ian had done to her in Boston had taken most of her time in Paris to recover from. She’d learnt to walk again. She’d had hours of physical therapy to bring her strength back to anywhere near what it had been when she’d died to protect herself and the people she loved. The doctors had vaguely referred to her fertility then, speaking to her in broken English even though she repeatedly told them she could speak fluent French, but at the time she hadn’t thought any more about it. Her dreams of being a mother, of being more than her mother ever had been, dead and buried with her. But then she came back. She came back to life, and to DC and to him, and suddenly the life she would never admit she’d always wanted was as clear to her as it had ever been. Bright and beautiful and in technicolour.

It felt almost cruel to know she might never have all of it.

She was engaged to the love of her life. She owned a house with him and lived there with his son, their son, and for the first time in her life, she had solid foundations. The first time she’d mentioned the idea of having a baby to Aaron his eyes had lit up. Hope and joy that cut deeper than Ian’s stake ever had shining in his eyes as he looked at her. She’d told him what she knew, that she’d been told there could be complications, and he simply nodded. Drawing her into a hug as he whispered to her that they could figure it out together.

So she called her OGBYN, knowing time wasn’t necessarily on her side anyway, and had tests. She’d been poked and prodded and had so many blood tests she was surprised she had any left. She’d almost been able to put it out of her mind until she got the call from her doctor asking her to come in to discuss the results.

“Em,” he says, linking their hands together and lifting them to his mouth, pressing a kiss to her knuckles, “No matter what happens, baby or no baby, everything will be ok.”

Her smile shakes when she nods at him, wanting more than anything to believe him. She knew he would love her no matter what, she believed that part, but she was worried she’d never be able to forgive herself if she took the opportunity to be a father again from him.

He was such a good dad.

“Emily Prentiss?”

They both look up, immediately trying to analyse the kind smile on the doctor’s face as she stands in the doorway to her office. Aaron stands first and then offers Emily his hand, squeezing it when she takes it and stands herself. The few paces into the office feels like a lifetime and Emily swallows thickly as the door closes behind them and her doctor guides them to the chairs opposite her desk.

“It’s good to see you again, Doctor Fisher,” Aaron says, polite as ever as they watch her sit down.

“You too,” she replies smiling back and forth between the two of them, “How have you-”

“Can we please cut to the chase?” Emily says, cutting off Doctor Fisher, her voice tight as Aaron squeezes her hand even tighter.

“Em-”

“Please,” she says, stopping Aaron from carrying on with any pleasantries, “I’ve been driving myself crazy for days. Weeks really. And I just need to know. Can I get pregnant?”

The question and her desperation hang in the air around them, and the moments of silence that follows are some of the longest of her life. Despite her clear irritation, her frayed nerves that were leading her to be ruder than usual, Doctor Fisher simply smiles kindly as she links her hands together on her desk and leans in slightly closer to them.

“I’ll be honest with you Emily,” she says, “I don’t believe getting pregnant will be your issue, I think it will be staying pregnant.”

It feels like a gut punch. She feels like the wind has been knocked out of her, and she chokes on any follow-up questions, a huffed-out breath escaping her instead.

“What…what do you mean?” She asks, her body tensing as Aaron holds her hand impossibly tighter.

“Your uterus and fallopian tubes are intact, which given the extent of your injuries feels like nothing short of a miracle,” Doctor Fisher says, “My concern is the amount of scar tissue you have in your abdomen. I’ve frankly never seen so much, and it could cause complications throughout your pregnancy, especially as your abdominal muscles split to make room for the fetus to grow. It could cause a lot of stress to your body, and therefore-”

“I could lose it,” she says, her voice flat. She wipes a tear from her cheek, furious at herself for crying, “I could get pregnant but then I could lose it.”

Doctor Fisher sighs and nods, “Yes, Emily. You could.”

She doesn’t hear anything after that, her head feeling like it’s underwater as Aaron continues to ask questions, his hand around hers as he has a back-and-forth with her doctor. The next time she truly registers anything is when they are outside.

“Sweetheart-”

“Can we go home?” She asks, looking up at him as she cuts him off, not wanting to listen to any reassurances as they stood outside the fertility clinic, “I’d really like to go home.”

Aaron sighs. He wanted nothing more than to fix this for her, to kill the man who had done this to her even though Ian was long since dead. He takes a deep breath and forces those thoughts away, knowing that, more than ever, she needed his love right now and not his anger.

“Of course,” he says, pressing a kiss to her forehead before they carry on walking, “Whatever you want.”

The journey home is silent. Emily stares out the window the whole way, everything Doctor Fisher had said to her turning over in her head. When they make it home Emily snaps out of it the moment she sees Jack, determined to spend a normal evening with the little boy she loved as her own. It’s only when he’s in bed and Aaron seeks her out, finding her sitting in their bathtub in the en suite that they talk about it.

“I…” she drifts off, shaking her head as she sits up straighter in the bath, tucking her knees into her chest as the water sloshes around her, “I don’t know what to do.”

Aaron kneels on the floor next to the tub and tucks some hair behind her ear, cupping her cheek as he tilts her head to look at him, “You don’t have to make any choices right now, sweetheart. That was a lot to take in today.”

She hums, turning her head just enough to kiss his palm, “What do you want to do?”

He sighs because he knows he wants this with her. That he wants a child half him and half her, a kid that he was sure would be as much of a troublemaker as they would be beautiful. But he wants her more, he wants her to be ok, and he would never want to do anything that would cause her more pain.

“It’s your body, Em,” he says gently, “It’s your choice.”

She huffs out a laugh, a wry smile spreading over her face as her fiancee unknowingly repeats the words Matthew had said to her all those years ago when she was pregnant, the only time she might ever be, and she was left to make a choice no one her age should have to make.

“Yeah, I guess it is,” she says, resting her cheek on her knees so she can continue to look at him, seeking out the comfort she always found in the eyes she’d always hoped he’d pass onto their child. “I want to try,” she says eventually, “Even if…” she clears her throat, “Even if it doesn’t happen for us. I want to try.”

He nods, leaning forward to press a kiss to her forehead, “Then we’ll try.”

___

It happens quickly.

A test with two lines gripped in her hand as she loses herself in Aaron’s embrace, her happiness coming out of her in the form of hot tears against his neck.

Her joy, and the pregnancy, is fleeting. A blip in time that she tries to hang onto as evidence that she can get pregnant, a consolation that doesn’t help the grief, the emptiness she feels when they come home from the hospital with medication and a bag full of sanitary pads. She had bought the same brand for JJ after she had Henry.

Aaron cries with her, his arms tight around her as he stops her from apologising, his assurances that it wasn’t her fault falling flat because it’s all she can think of.

This was her fault. And she’s only more sure of that when it happens again a few months later.

___

The joy she feels the third time she stands in her bathroom with a positive test is no less overwhelming than the first and second, but it’s followed by sharp anxiety. A sense of inevitability that she’d lose this one too that she can’t shake off.

It’s only when they get to the 12-week scan, the furthest she’d got so far, that she starts to allow herself to believe it might finally be happening for them. She keeps a copy of the ultrasound in her purse and she takes it out to look at every time the worst-case scenarios threaten to take over.

When they tell the team at their small, but beautiful, wedding reception a couple of weeks later they are delighted for them. Penelope’s joy is exuberant, her many, many questions about when they were going to have a baby finally have their answer. She’d spent months asking Emily about it, unknowingly picking at an unhealed wound every single time.

She’s five months along, nothing short of relieved every time she feels her baby, her son, shift in her belly, when she feels it. Sharp pains spreading across the top of her bump, enough to take her breath away. She waits for a moment, hoping it will pass, but it doesn’t. She blows out a slow breath as she stands, her hand pressed to her belly as she walks the short, but almost insurmountable, distance to Aaron’s office. She clears her throat as she stands in his doorway, and she watches as the smile slips from his face as he looks up at her, her panic clear.

“Sweetheart-”

“I think it’s happening again,” she gets out, the hand not pressing into her belly gripping the door frame. He’s up and out of his chair, across the room faster than she thought possible, “It hurts.”

He knows it has to hurt for her to even admit to it, her willingness to hide her pain well known, and he places his hand on her bump, “We’ll take you to Doctor Fisher’s office, ok? She’ll be able to have a look at you both and tell us what is going on.”

He’s already guiding her back down the stairs, his hand on her lower back, before she responds, “I can’t…I can’t lose him, Aaron.”

She’d let herself forget, let herself get carried away with talk of names and the nursery and what colour to paint it. She’d let hope take over and push the anxiety away a little more every single day. Neither of them responds to the team as they call after them, already past the glass doors and waiting by the elevators before Emily even turns to look at them.

“Everything will be ok,” he says, pressing a kiss to her temple, and for the first time since this all started he isn’t sure he believes it himself.

___

He finds her in their bedroom, sitting up in bed with one hand on her bump and the other holding a new ultrasound photo.

Aaron thinks he could live a hundred years and he’d never forget the relieved cry that had escaped from Emily as Doctor Fisher confirmed that the baby was ok, playing his heartbeat for them when they didn’t quite believe her. She explained that the pain was from Emily’s abdominals shifting to make room for the baby, a part of pregnancy that was painful for some women anyway, let alone someone with the amount of scar tissue Emily had in the area. Her internal scarring was being pulled at, and now she’d need more frequent monitoring to ensure it wasn’t causing any internal bleeding. They’d been told early delivery was likely, that her body wouldn’t deal with the stress for forty weeks. He watches as Emily blows out a breath, her hand briefly leaving her belly to wipe a tear from her cheek.

“I want to ask if you’re ok,” he says, walking over to join her on the bed, “But that seems like a stupid question,” he wraps his arm around her and pulls her into his side, “But as your husband, I think I should ask anyway. Are you ok, sweetheart?”

She isn’t sure how to put it into words. The scare they’d had today solidified everything she’d been feeling ever since that first conversation with Doctor Fisher. She’d never be free of what happened to her, of what she had endured, and it made her angry and sad in equal measure

“I hate that he’s part of this,” she says quietly, wiping another tear from her cheek as she places the ultrasound photo down on her nightstand.

He frowns, shifting to look at her as he waits for a clarification she doesn’t freely give, “Who?”

“Ian,” she chokes out, and his frown softens, nothing but love flooding his features.

“Em-”

“This is meant to be the happiest time of my life,” she says, cutting him off, her lower lip trembling, “I’m married to the love of my life, I’m having a baby but…I can’t escape what happened in Boston, what Ian did,” she shakes her head, tears falling past her lash line and splashing onto her cheeks, “He’s part of this experience and I hate it.”

She rests her forehead against his shoulder and he cups the back of her head, his blunt nails scratching comfortingly at her scalp as she cries. He doesn’t say anything at first, knowing that this was something she’d needed to get off her chest for weeks. He’d seen it. He hadn’t missed how she’d look at her bump in the mirror, her smile fading as her eyes would shift from the curve of it to the scar that sat over the top. He waits until her sobs subside and he kisses the top of her head before she encourages her to look up at him, his other hand seeking out hers.

“He isn’t part of this, Em,” he says firmly, and she sighs, opening her mouth to respond but he cuts her off, “He isn’t,” he repeats, reaching and placing their joint hands on her bump, “It’s just you and me and our little boy,” he rests his forehead against hers and she closes her eyes, taking a moment to breathe him in, “Ian Doyle is not part of this. You are living your life despite what happened.”

She pulls back, intending to argue the point with him, but as their eyes meet she sees herself as he does for a moment. As someone who, despite everything, was moving forward. Living a life she’d always wanted but not allowed herself to have. She nods, placing a hand on his neck and stroking his jaw.

“Ok,” she whispers as she nods.

“Ok?” He asks, searching her eyes for any further distress, and she nods again.

“Yeah,” she replies, stamping a kiss against his lips, “It’s just us.”

___

Relief doesn’t feel like a strong enough word to describe how she feels when she hears her son cry for the first time.

She’s in an operating room, another scar added to her abdomen, and Aaron is sitting by her head, whispering words of encouragement to her as their son is born. She hadn’t wanted a c-section but had accepted it was the best way forward, not wanting to strain her abdominal scarring anymore than she already had with potentially hours of pushing.

It’s all worth it, everything she had been through, the moment she hears that cry.

He’s tiny, a small thing that weighs 5lbs 7 ounces, something that the nurse announces as she hands him to her. She’d made it to 35 weeks before Doctor Fisher decided it was time to deliver, the pain Emily had been enduring for weeks impacting her blood pressure. As Emily looks at her son’s face, at the dark hair plastered to his head, she knows she would have endured it forever for him. She places a hand on his back and feels Aaron place his hand over hers, holding their son safely against her as she shakes.

“Hi sweet boy,” she says, her voice cracking, “Look at you.”

Aaron turns his head to kiss her forehead, his lips firm against her skin as he tells her how proud he is of her, how much he loves her and their family. He turns his attention back to the tiny newborn whose cries had diminished a little now he was laying on his mother.

“Hi buddy,” he says, tears clogging his voice, “We’ve waited a long time for you.”

“He’ll need to stay in the NICU for a few days,” Doctor Fisher says, “Because he’s early we’ll need to monitor him overnight,” she clearly sees how Emily holds him even closer, as if she wasn’t numb from the ribcage down and unable to move, “You can keep him for now though. Do you have a name in mind?”

Emily tears her eyes from her baby for the first time since he’d been handed to her and she looks at Aaron, unsurprised to see tears shining in his eyes too. He nods at her, a silent confirmation that he was thinking the same thing she was. That the name they’d picked out weeks ago, when she was still half convinced she’d never have this moment, was perfect.

“Oliver,” Emily says, looking back at her son and smiling as his bleary eyes meet hers. She feels overwhelmed and overjoyed and in disbelief that she was finally here. “Your name is Oliver, sweet boy. And Mommy and Daddy both love you very much.”

-x-

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phoenix-downer · 1 year

Text

KH3 Retrospective

I can’t believe it’s been four years already since KH3 came out. It both feels like it came out ages ago and just last month. Above was the very first screenshot I took as I started my playthrough. I was so awed by how good the textures for the stained glass on the Station of Awakening looked.

Something I did while I was playing KH3 was create a little Google doc of my first reactions/impressions (as well as spamming the screenshot button lol). Here was from the first page:

New version of Dearly Beloved is gorgeous - sounds similar to DDD version a little

Sora’s opening line is so good - Kairi is his home

Opening - Kairi and Sora’s chess pieces by each other

Kairi’s piece is the paopu piece

Riku looks gorgeous

Everyone looks beautiful

The door opening to save everyone there at the end

Seven hearts to save

Sora’s holding Xehanort’s piece at the end - checkmate?

Station of Awakening is GORGEOUS - looks like actual stained glass now

Showing Sora’s memories

Wisdom, vitality, balance - which one?!

I chose balance (yay SDG!)

Guardian, Warrior, Mystic

I chose Guardian (yay Namine!)

Tidal wave, then Sora ended up in cloud world

Destati sounds awesome

Sora’s opening lines are so good

Mysterious Tower music sounds so good

Cable Town looked gorgeous - Land of Departure?

Sora’s theme sounds kickass

Ending scenes from 0.2 played again to catch you up to speed on SDG

Next year for the fifth anniversary I want to share more of the document, perhaps in a more organized fashion (I also had a reaction document for ReMind and Melody of Memory that I might share excerpts from in the future). It’s just such a neat little time capsule of my immediate first reactions to everything, and while I had to use the pause button a lot, it’s fun to look back on what I was thinking in the moment before my later thoughts/perceptions took over. Definitely worth the time it took to record everything.

For KH4 I want to continue the trend, as it also makes for a fun way to share the first playthrough experience with my friends and it makes it easier to write analysis posts later on.

Summarizing my thoughts now on KH3:

The good: Beautiful graphics, world environments were a huge upgrade, the music was amazing, the humor in the Disney worlds was really good, Olympus Coliseum, Kingdom of Corona (the dancing minigame!), The Caribbean, San Fransokyo, Wayfinder Trio Reunion, Xion’s return, Roxas’s return, all the heartfelt Sora and Kairi moments, Young Xehanort, the Keyblade transformations, having more than two people in your party at a time now, the Luxu reveal.

The bad: No true midpoint to the game, no FF characters, the climax was rushed, wish Naminé was more involved, the way Kairi got “killed” was super bleh, and I’m still not a fan of the original ending (the secret ending excluding Kairi also made me ehhhhhh).

And this leads me into another part of the document. When I consume a piece of media, I like to think about what worked well and why. It’s just really fun to celebrate good writing and learn from it, you know? Hence all the translation/analysis posts I’ve done of certain scenes from KH3. I also like to figure out how I would “fix” anything that didn’t land for me because it’s also a good learning experience, and at the end of my initial thoughts document, I actually included a list of things I thought would improve the writing of KH3. Of course, this is all based on my own personal feelings/interpretations, and as it stands, ReMind fixed a number of them anyway. But I thought I’d share my initial “fixes” in bold and then my thoughts about them now.

Writing Changes:

Have Sora think about Kairi a la KH2 - Flynn/Rapunzel, Will/Elizabeth… - this isn’t really going to be changed at this point for obvious reasons, but I missed the little moments where Sora was thinking of Kairi in KH2 (like when Will and Elizabeth hugged, when he saw Jack and Sally dancing, etc.) and thought those would have strengthened the romantic plotline of KH3.

Sora’s reunion with Riku was anticlimactic - ditto, not gonna be updated at this point, but I remember thinking oh that’s it lol when technically we hadn’t seen them onscreen together since 2012 (trailers notwithstanding). In universe it makes sense though because it hasn’t been that long since they’ve seen each other. Plus, I assume their reunion in KH4 will be good, so I’m looking forward to that.

Sora’s reunion with Kairi was also anticlimactic - see above, not gonna get changed at this point, but I wish they’d gotten a moment together before the big group meetup or at least him reacting to seeing her again. We hadn’t seen them talk directly since Blank Points I think? (trailers notwithstanding). So yeah I was a little disappointed there wasn’t more to their reunion, and again I think a little moment or brief scene that could’ve built up to the paopu fruit more. And at this point in the game I definitely got the feeling that Nomura was rushing to finish before deadlines hit + the burnout was setting in and he couldn’t spare any time to extras like this, just the core scenes that had to be there (group meetup, Aqua and Ven convo about Terra, Riku and Repliku scene, Kairi and Sora paopu sharing scene). He might have also had to do a bunch of last minute rewrites, who knows.

Have Kairi actually send her letter to Sora - I assume this will happen at a later date, looking back now it feels like foreshadowing, so I’m not sure why I complained about this lol. I do think at some point Sora will read the letter because why go to all that trouble of showing Kairi writing it + having her read it to the audience if it won’t be significant down the line? The focus on Sora’s smile makes me think he might get the letter when he’s feeling really down and needs to be cheered up, but we’ll see.

Have Sora have some way of contacting her like he can contact Riku - Yeah idk Square acts allergic sometimes to the love interests contacting the main character (see FFXV...), and in universe she was training with Merlin and Axel in a place where time flowed differently etc. so I get why she didn’t. Again I was just thinking of ways the paopu scene could’ve been built up to more effectively within KH3 itself (obviously the paopu scene has been foreshadowed since KH1 so that wasn’t my issue, more that I wanted more buildup within KH3 that built on the buildup we saw in KH1 and KH2 and Blank Points).

Keep Kairi getting killed… but have it be because she was protecting Sora of her own free volition - Yeah I’m still not happy about how this was handled. ReMind helped make this more tolerable because she did get to fight Xehanort by Sora’s side, but I still think her “death” could’ve been handled a lot better. And that’s all I’ll say about that lol, it’s a topic that’s been discussed to death at this point.

Go into more depth about what YX said - I think this was about all of Young Xehanort’s cryptic foreshadowing to Sora, I honestly can’t remember lol. But I do think, now that I’ve replayed the game, the foreshadowing works well, so I think this was more of an initial reaction on my part.

Show Sora going to rescue her - This was one of my biggest issues with how KH3 originally ended, and I remember feeling robbed that we didn’t get to see Sora’s rescue mission of Kairi, but little did I know what Nomura had in store lol. ReMind more than fixed this, and I will be forever grateful to it and to Nomura for knowing how important this was and making sure it was added to the story. ReMind elevated KH3 so much for me, and looking back, I really do think Nomura was making the best of a bad situation (engine switch a year into development, tight deadlines, Disney being strict, serious burnout, sky high expectations...) with vanilla KH3, and I hope he gets the development time he needs to tell the story he wants to tell with KH4. I just remember reading some of his interviews post-KH3 and you could tell how exhausted and burnt out he was, and I really hope he doesn’t go through that again.

End things on a less gutpunch of an ending - I know some people loved KH3′s ending so this is subjective, but I did not lol. Thankfully, ReMind fixed this and made the ending more bittersweet now that we’ve seen Sora rescuing Kairi. It feels much better knowing he got those moments with her traveling the worlds before he disappeared.

Roxas and Sora barely interacted - ReMind fixed this too (noticing a pattern here?) I was really happy with the additional screentime they got in ReMind together because honestly, their relationship is one of my favorites in the entire series.

Sora still hasn’t thanked Namine - I assume this will happen at a later date, I just remember thinking poor Naminé hadn’t gotten thanked yet. But I do think Nomura has something specific in mind for this scene and we will see it at some future date. So less of a “this should’ve been in KH3″ thing and more “oh bummer I’ll have to wait a while yet to see this.”

Xehanort got off easy - I think this whole plot point was a victim of the rushed pacing that impacted both the climax and ending of KH3. I remember thinking to myself that Xehanort should not have gotten to die and go to Keyblade Heaven with Eraqus in the same game where he “killed” the protagonist’s girlfriend (which resulted in the protagonist’s “death”) especially not so soon after it happened. But in a way it’s also kind of realistic? The bad guy doesn’t always get what he deserves in real life, so I can see why Nomura took this angle here (though I would argue that in stories you can show good triumphing over evil and in fact people tend to want that more than realism due to the escapist nature of fiction). Then again, I’m kind of biased because I’m not a fan in general of turning Xehanort from a main villain to a misunderstood guy with an angsty backstory who was manipulated by the True Big Bad. I get the feeling we haven’t seen the last of him given that art of his younger self with an umbrella that came out for Dark Road’s ending, so I’m bracing myself for him to show up in Quadratum and team up with Sora, and meh, I just wish the series would move past him at this point, you know?

Destiny Trio still not a trio :( - fix that - I do hope that we get more Destiny Trio interactions in KH4, but looking back, I kinda get why there wasn’t a whole lot of them in KH3. The focus was more on Sora and Kairi’s relationship since that played such a key role in the climax and ending of the story, and there will be time in the future for the three to interact more. Nomura had that quote about how KH3 would feature relationships changing etc., and we did see that with the focus more on Sora and Kairi’s relationship (plus Melody of Memory gave us some Riku and Kairi interactions, and KH4 is probably gonna feature some good Sora and Riku interactions given how they’ll probably reunite before Sora and Kairi do. And then Kairi and Sora’s reunion will be important given how they were separated, and I imagine there will be at least one meaningful scene of the three of them together).

Have Kairi fight back while she’s being taken - in her defense, it was very realistic for a short, petite fifteen-year old girl to have trouble fighting back against a grown ass man who 1) towers over her and most of the rest of the cast, and 2) is wrenching her arm back in a way that meant she’d likely dislocate her own arm if she tried to fight back. I just still wish this entire plot point had been handled differently, but it’s in the past now, not much more to be said about it.

Roxas and Xion were freed maybe when Sora “died”? - I think I had this on there because I thought the story would’ve benefited from the rescues being spread out more, giving time to focus on each one and allowing some longer soft/quiet moments with the character reunions.

Anyway, thanks for reading all this. It was interesting going back and looking at my initial reactions to KH3 and how my thoughts and feelings have changed over time. I think the big factors in the shift are that ReMind really added so much to the story and fixed most of my major issues with it, and I have a better picture now of all the stressors Nomura had to deal with to get the game out the door. Honestly it’s probably a small miracle the vanilla game turned out as well as it did given all the factors he was working against, and for that I have a lot of respect for him. And it was clear he was aware of the issues, you know? Otherwise he wouldn’t have released ReMind. He wanted KH3 to be good and he wanted to make the fans happy, so he did what he could to improve on the base game. And there are some truly fantastic moments in the base game and ReMind alike that I loved analyzing every single piece of.

How about you guys? How have your thoughts/feelings towards KH3 changed over time if at all? I’d love to hear your thoughts!

#kingdom hearts #kh3 #kingdom hearts 3 #kh analysis #kh meta #kh retrospective #kh #retrospective #long post

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officialgleamstar · 9 months

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I am INCREDIBLY interested in your idea of the omegaverse. Is it the usual "Alphas RAHHHH‼️‼️‼️ Betas NAHHHH‼️‼️"? How extreme do these things get? (Also the part about Carol and Darryl literally had me laughing so hard for some reason???)

the darryl and carol part was supposed to be deeply funny but also sad just like every phone call between them in early season one. like you're laughing but also hiring them a marriage counselor as you're laughing

anyways. cracks open my Omegaverse Bible (a personal google doc of omegaverse thoughts and headcanons that i made in august 2022 because i was being neurodivergent about a fic i mostly wrote and never finished)

i dont always follow this guideline in my writing, but its what i use as a baseline and what i used on my last post LOL so i'll answer using that. to answer your question accurately but very vaguely: i write omegaverse as if non-alpha/omega pairings replace today's homosexuality. it depends where you live on if it's okay or not ¯\_(ツ)_/¯ to literally copy paste from my notes:

Male/male and female/female relationships are seen as normal, but like in real life, a lot of emphasis is placed on relationships that can produce children. Alpha/alpha and omega/omega relationships are seen as oddities and are often discriminated against. Alpha/beta and beta/omega relationships are starting to be seen as more common, but are treated better when the coupling can produce a child and are still not treated as well as an alpha/omega or a beta/beta couple. Within beta/beta couples, male/female relationships are also treated better than male/male or female/female couplings.

as for what i am now realizing is what you probably meant, the class structure between different secondary sexes: i don't go as extreme as some people do, but there is like, Fantasy Misogyny going on, yeah. alphas are seen as primary providers, are generally the breadwinners in a family, and “more capable”. betas are seen as level-headed mediators, so they are also expected to go out and have important careers, though they're often passed over in favor of alphas (despite being seen as more reasonable than alphas are). omegas are seen as care-givers and are usually pressured to stay at home and take care of the house and any children a family might have. there's a lot of stuff with pack dynamics as well (group living is a lot more common than it is in real life), but i need to get ready for work soon so i can't fully go into that LOL. but yeah, there is Fantasy Misogyny where alphas are seen as more capable than betas and omegas, but i don't really go as hard into that part of things, and betas aren't seen as useless in the general public.

i actually write betas in... i think a sort of uncommon way? i like the idea that betas aren't a "nothing" instinct-wise, but instead, they tend to adapt to fit a missing role in a dynamic (unless they're with another beta, in which case... yes they have nothing instincts-wise LOL). so if they're partnered with an omega, they tend to exhibit more alpha-like instincts. if they're partnered with an alpha, the opposite is true. these instincts aren't as strong as they would be for a true alpha or omega, but they are present. i do keep the common idea that betas have a weaker scent and sense of smell than alphas and omegas though, i think that's neat to play with. however, they have stronger calming pheromones than either of the other secondary sexes

#buns comics #ask #omegaverse #the neurodivergency is showing. okay i have work in 30 minutes i need to go wash my water bottle and lint roll my clothes

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maximwtf · 6 months

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Izzy Hands x reader fanfic where the reader courts him by sending anonymous love letters.

Izzy Hands x Reader

words: 2760

google docs pages: 4,5

warnings: Oddly enough for something I’ve written, none! Is this lowkey corny though? Yes, maybe that needs a warning of its own.

opening: Your desperate earlier attempts at courting the first mate of Blackbeard’s had gone unnoticed, so you resort to writing love letters. Maybe he’d realise if it was laid flat in front of his eyes.

AN// Reader can be any gender! It’s been a good while since I’ve written anything fluff-like, so apologies if that affected the quality of this :”D! Requests are still open <3! (please someone request something sword-fight related, or I’ll have to think of something myself)

“Not worth your time”

How many attempts would it take for him to realise what you were trying to say? How did he not notice even when you thought you couldn’t get any more obvious? Or was he just on purpose ignoring you? Were thoughts that had been on your mind for a long time now.

Izzy Hands, the first mate of Blackbeard's, was either too focused on his work and just didn’t realise or was ignoring your confessions on purpose. Of which you hoped wasn't the latter. For the past few weeks you had tried almost everything you could have thought of, not counting in just telling him how you felt. The only reason why that card hadn’t been used yet was because you didn’t know if he cared for you in the same way. You wouldn’t be able to bear the heartbreak of confessing to him and being rejected would cause. Not to even mention having to be on the same ship with him after, you’d rather take a jolly boat and leave at that point. So you had resorted to hinting your feelings for him through actions, which had proven to be unsuccessful.

As long as you’d known the man, he had never been too good at expressing his feelings. If he was upset, he might have said something about it to you and then disappear for a moment to resolve whatever was going on in his mind. Never had you seen him cry, but you expected he was just the kind of person to cry whenever he was alone. But even when he was happy, he’d show it through very small actions, sometimes not even his expression changing. You weren’t even sure if the man had ever been in love. Maybe he just didn’t know how to express that either? Or perhaps that was you hoping the earlier attempts of getting him to realise how you felt hadn’t been for nothing.

Either way, it was clear you’d chosen a man who was harder to read than a map drawn by a toddler. He hadn’t and seemingly wasn’t going to notice you flirting with him, but maybe something else would work. Flirting had never been your strong suit anyway, you’d always been much more skilled with written down words. It was easier to think of what to say and carefully choose the right words, which you couldn’t do while spending time with the first mate. And perhaps you could blame yourself even for the bad success, knowing your flirting and how it usually played out. So your plan was clear. To start writing anonymous love letters to him, and slowly make it as obvious as possible.

To be quite honest, you weren’t so sure if the man even knew how to read. Though, surely for one to become a first mate they had to know how to read, right? Or maybe that was just your last hope speaking. You’d seen first mates get chosen and there wasn’t a job application that came first. The person who was thought out to be the most experienced with piracy was chosen ultimately over the skill of literacy. Though, Stede appreciated the skill understandably more than the seadogs you’d sailed with for most of the time.

Literacy had been the reason why you and Lucius started talking as well. You’d started to take turns writing notes for Stede after you had gained his trust. Due to this new formed relationship with the man, you would sometimes talk to him about Izzy. From what you collected, Lucius wasn’t the biggest fan of him, understandably. But Lucius hadn’t been against you trying to court the man either, he’d even encouraged you to write the letters. Perhaps he was hoping you’d succeed and manage to change Izzy for the better somehow. But that was thinking too far ahead.

Firstly you had to figure out what to write in the first letter. It ended up not being anything too obvious, but you made sure to put an emphasis on the parts where you mentioned admiring his seamanship skills. Not leaving a signature or anything that could retrace the letter back to you, you folded it nicely and sneaked it to his quarters by sliding it under his door. It was only at that point that you truly realised how silly this was for an adult to do. Though, you forgave yourself for the sake of this being the last trick you had up your sleeve.

The evening passed quickly, night cooling down the air and bringing a slight fog with it to hug the vessel sailing across the water gently. You’d taken the lookout shift for tonight, knowing you wouldn't have been able to sleep. It also gave you time to write the second letter, knowing there was almost never any activity on the sea in a weather like this. It was going to be a calm night.

You sat down in the crowsnest, leaning over slightly as your pencil danced on the small piece of paper. The contents of the letter may have been more flirty than intended because of your sleep deprived mind, but you scrapped none of it. Letting your thoughts run as they pleased, the second letter was finished with a small heart as a signature at the bottom. You folded it nicely like the first letter, using a drop of wax from the candle you had up in the crowsnest to seal the paper.

The sky began to change colour when the sun decided to make its return. You climbed down, back on the main deck. You’d walk by Izzy’s door before going to sleep and slip the letter under his door like before. Most of the crew was still asleep, it only being the very early hours of the morning. Pure luck for you, since no one would notice you sneaking around like this.

Izzy was one to wake up rather early, so you didn’t dare to make any noise. At times it felt like you were holding your breath just in case that would alert him, though thinking about it after, it sounded silly. But nevertheless, you’d gotten the letter delivered and made an escape for it. All the way to one of the free hammocks where you got comfy and fell asleep rather quickly.

After that you took a break from writing the letters. Not a long one, but you had to think the third letter through more thoroughly. You’d sat down with Lucius, and chatted with him about it. As far as Izzy knew, the two of you were the only ones who could write and practised it actively. So the first mate didn’t have many options on who could have been writing the letters. “Lucius, I need to ask something from you.” You started, knowing he might just do this for you. The ‘mhm?’ he gave was all you needed as a sign to explain further. “Give the third letter to him.” You said quickly, biting your inner lip. The plan was to ask Lucius to give the letter, and when Izzy would eventually realise it wasn’t written by Lucius, he wouldn’t have many options left. Lucius stared at you for a moment before a faint smirk formed on his face. “Alright.” He said, raising his eyebrows in a knowing manner. It seemed he didn’t need a further explanation, the plan being clear to him.

After the conversation, you got to writing. This letter was more bold, more straight forward. You allowed your handwriting to differ more clearly from Lucius’, making it more obvious it wasn’t from the other man. Half way through writing, you leaned back on the chair. Was this even going to work? You had continued talking to Izzy after the first two, but he didn’t seem like he was even trying to figure out who was sending the letters. Or maybe you’d just missed his eyes wandering across the deck when he thought no one was looking, desperate to find who’d written words like that of him. Who in the crew would ever think of such things of someone like him?

You shook your head, resuming back to the letter. Writing the third one took the longest, only because it had all your thoughts in it. A proper confession with an ‘I love you’ at the end. You thought of signing this one, but then decided against it. He was witty enough to figure out it was you based on the letter, and if he felt the same he’d come looking for you. Hopefully.

That same evening you delivered the letter to Lucius, almost scared to let go of it. With a swift wink Lucius took it, and promised to give it to the first mate just before the crew usually went to rest. That way you’d be up in the crowsnest, the look-out shift taken by you yet again, and you could get some fresh air before having to face the first mate.

Time passed, the tension within your body building up. With stiff steps you got up to the crowsnest and slid against the mast to sit down. A deep breath. Lucius would have given Izzy the letter around this time. There was no turning back now, but there was also still that part of you that didn’t even want to. You’d waited for long enough, and this was like ripping off a bandaid, only you didn’t know what the damage under would be. If any.

Lucius had found Izzy, handing the letter to the man with that same amused grin on his face which he had tried to hide. “What is this?” Izzy asked, furrowing his brows slightly as he accepted the piece of paper. “Have you-?” He was about to add, but Lucius was already turning away to leave. “That is for you to figure out.” He said, before leaving Izzy alone with his thoughts and the letter. His eyes stared blankly at the folded paper, carefully opening it for reading.

The first mate’s eyes scanned through the words, his free hand going slightly over his mouth. This letter had far more passion in it than the other two mysterious letters he’d received. But yet it was written tenderly with care, still anonymous. Lucius had been such an asshole about revealing who it was. Of course he had thought it must have been Lucius playing with him from the start, but after the second letter it had gotten far too advanced to be just a crude joke anymore, he hoped. But there weren’t many literate men on the ship.

Izzy took the time to find Stede’s diary in his hands, scrolling through it just enough to be able to compare the two handwritings together. He knew you and Lucus took turns writing notes for Stede, and to his luck he was able to match the styles. Lucius’ handwriting looked different from the one used in the letter, but the other style in the diary matched the one in the letter’s almost perfectly. It was you, had been this whole time.

Izzy slammed the book shut, folding the letter into his pocket and making his way to the main deck where he knew you were. Just today he’d told you to skip and leave the shift for him, but you'd strongly insisted against it, saying you didn’t feel tired due to the full moon. He’d wanted to ask what you were talking about, the time of the moon being full still at minimum a week away, but you had left before he was able to. But now he knew why you’d left so abruptly.

Izzy appeared on the main deck, gaze searching for you. The deck itself was empty, it wasn’t yet so dark that he couldn’t see as much. The sky was clear of clouds, no fog in sight. No lookout in this weather would be on deck, you must have been in the crowsnest. His gaze travelled up, seeing the faint light of a candle up in the mast. “Aye!” He called out, voice keyed up. He hadn’t even thought of what to say, just wanting to know why you thought such things of him, still in the belief it must have been a bad joke being played on him.

Izzy’s voice made your heart skip a beat, making you tense. He’d figured it out, of course he had. You swallowed, finding your mouth dry and jaw tense. “Yeah?” You called back, frozen in place. It didn’t take long for the man to reply. “Come on down here!” Another hard swallow. You should have just jumped over the gunwale earlier or left on a jolly boat, this was terrifying. “In a moment!” Your voice wavered as you got up and started climbing down, through the lubber’s hole, towards the main deck.

It felt like the wooden flooring was lava as you stepped on it, finding Izzy standing there. The faint light of a singular lantern giving some light in the otherwise dark environment. You felt like running away as Izzy pulled the latest letter from his pocket. “Did you..write these?” He asked, breaking the silence which had been creeping its way between the two of you. You hadn’t even realised the force you’d been biting your inner lip at, before now. “I- Yes.” Your voice betrayed you yet again, the words coming out shaky. Almost like you thought you were in trouble? “So Lucius is off the hook.” Izzy said, the words not making you feel any better. “So I’m still- on the hook?” You asked, a light joke in an attempt to make the nervous sweat back down. “You could say so.” He put the letter back into his pocket. “Surely you don’t fucking think of me in that way?” The first mate added, the tone of his voice giving you the impression of him thinking you were tricking him.

You wanted to reach out to him, to somehow tell him that you were speaking the truth, but your mouth was still dry. All words that were so beautifully written on the paper, now somehow gone, disappeared into thin air. Or in this case thick air, you felt like you couldn’t bloody breathe. “Izzy, I meant every word.” You said, voice almost so silent you feared it might have gotten lost in the light wind. Though, in truth there only being a cat’s paw on the water. Izzy’s eyes snapped on you, almost dropping the cigarette he’d been about to light. “You-” He started, but you wanted not to hear the things the man thought of himself. “Yes, I love you, you moron.” You allowed yourself to say, taking an awkward step closer to him. “Dear, I’m not worth your time…” He started yet again, which you wanted so desperately to end. He did not see the things you saw in him. “Shut up, please.” You took the cigarette from his hand, daring to look into his eyes, your gaze searching for his answer. Did he feel the same?

Izzy must have seen the question marks in your eyes, as his expression softened to one of slight worry. “Please, don’t do this to me.” He said, his hand rising but not quite sure what he should do. “Say it.” You pleaded, eyes glued on his. “I do, more than I should. I love you” You bit back a relieved smile, gently placing your free hand on his collar. He didn’t pull away, rather leaned in which you took as a yes to kissing him. It didn’t last long, the tension of it making you pull away slowly, but not far. His face left with a mix of emotions, of which most he didn’t know how to express. You smiled, turning to light the cigarette with the flame of the lantern. You took a quick drag from it before placing it near the man’s lips. He raised his hand enough to take a hold of the cigarette, mouth left softly agape. “I love you-” He said, voice lost, like he had to repeat the phrase just to make it sound real to himself. You wanted to reply, but a wave hit the bow of the ship. You wouldn't have otherwise reacted, but the moment had caught you off guard, just like the wave. It swayed the ship softly, pushing you against him. There was no real danger of tumbling over, but the first mate still placed his free hand swiftly behind your back, looking rather awkward after. “I know.” You smiled, now knowing saying that was true. Finally you knew he cared for you too, knew that he’d realised how you felt.

AN// It's yet again 4am when I proof read this, so if there are any mistakes I apologise for that!

#izzy hands x reader #izzy hands #israel hands #ofmd #our flag means death x reader #our flag means death #ofmd x reader #x reader #fanfic #izzy hands beloved #yar har i love pirates

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nsfwflint · 2 years

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I'll Be Back... With Weapons!! (Update/Hiatus Announcement)

A small announcement this time, so just gonna jump right into it.

I haven't written anything in like two weeks, and while that's about par for the course for me, I also just haven't even opened a draft in about that long either. And me making this post is because, honestly. I haven't WANTED to.

I realized that, for right now anyway, I don't really have a lot of interest in writing. Last few times I DID try to write, I just ended up staring blankly at the google doc and didn't write anything. I wanted to try to finish a specific piece for you guys, but the more I tried to force it, the more I just blanked. So I closed the draft tab that I usually kept open, and over the last few days I've realized that I didn't really want to reopen it.

So I decided that I'm going to not worry about trying to write for awhile. I'll still be here hanging out and answering asks I might get and posting about random shit. Probably try to do some AMAs. But I'm not going to stress about trying to put out a new piece for you guys.

Now I know me. I might not be interested now, but I know at some point I'm going to return to writing. I'm only making this post because I just don't know when. It might be next week, it might be next year.

But I WILL be back. I've still got a lot of stories for you guys. You're just gonna have to wait a little bit longer for them.

Thank you all for the amazing support, and hopefully I'll be back with something new sooner rather than later. Stay safe y'all <3

#kpop #update #announcement #hiatus #iz*one #izone #izone eunbi #iz*one eunbi #kwon eunbi #eunbi

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kicktwine · 2 years

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I have more thoughts about ventus than one person should reasonably have about ventus and that means I have more little written notes and headcanons and aus with the boy than one person should reasonably have and since I’ve ALREADY made a myriad of posts about the headcanons part I am just going to fastball special a bunch of unfinished google docs into this post so that they stop Staring At Me alright okay WOO

i wanted to write something about ven and vani stuck in Sora’s heart for ten years and how they communicate by just. temporarily murdering each other and now it’s homestuck formatted

proto-horrorwolves snippet, so basically just a wayfinders werewolf au

When they had first brought Ven home -- well, they didn’t know his name then, he was sick and asleep and he didn’t turn back from fully shifted for weeks. The whoever-before had given him a tag, on his ear -- just a stud earring with a number on it, not a name. He said it was to be able to tell them apart, later, when he could say. It didn’t really register that the number wasn’t for neglect reasons, or even lack-of-a-name reasons, but it was for please-someone-who-am-I reasons and this-isn’t-my-body reasons, and it worked only as well as it could.

Anyways, when they had first carried him home from the middle of nowhere and dusted off the snow and laid him down on their threadbare college off-campus housing couch he stayed there and slept for so long they started to worry that they’d have to get someone else to look at him. Like a vet, if he didn’t turn back soon, however embarrassing that might be later. But they didn’t end up needing to, because one night on a Wednesday he adjusted himself on the couch to be more comfortable and the next day they found the soft thawed-out carrots and plain chicken they had put on a plate and left on the floor were nibbled at and the next day he picked his head up and actually looked at them. He seemed to be recovering from whatever-it-was at his own pace, slow and steady and wary.

Which was good, probably, because neither Terra nor Aqua really had any expertise with taking care of a very sick and injured dog (a sick werewolf, actually, which is way worse according to Aqua and it makes Terra whine at her), and they didn’t have a lot of money besides. All they had was patience and a small apartment with two bedrooms and a couch and a window they kept open just a little bit to smell the outdoors and a bit of love for a strange and broken kid-in-the-woods. And maybe that was all they needed, because it worked out just fine.

Terra didn’t have class on Fridays, but Aqua did, two of them in the morning, which sucked. No one should have class on Friday. As per routine, he ate breakfast with her, very gently scratched behind the kid wolf’s ears, and headed back to his desk in his room to get a headstart on homework before he had to go to work-work, which was only later than 6 am on Monday-Wednesday-Friday. Not his job to take care of any cows those days, he wasn’t full-time yet.

It was about three questions in to the statistics class he had to take because his ACT was a point short that Terra heard a soft shift from the living room, and a startlingly loud huff. Might’a been louder to him, on account of the inhuman hearing, but it was followed by a low growl, and another, much harsher huff of air. Terra abandoned the math questions with a start, nearly tripping over the wire between the doorway.

“You okay, bud?” Terra asked, and then startled again, because the couch was empty. And the couch was empty because there on the floor, sitting with his hands — hands! — splayed out and his chest heaving and his knees awkwardly up in a froggy sort of way sat a small, scruffy, dirty blonde boy, his back to Terra. As soon as Terra spoke, though, his head lifted and he looked at him with bright green and very very human eyes.

Terra gaped. “Oh,” he said, and then a little louder rounding the couch, “Oh!”

He forgot what personal space was for a second, and sat right down in front of the boy. The boy reeled back a little from it, a very canine motion with one of his hands up, but Terra didn’t realize he might have crossed a line until later. As it was, he ran a gentle hand through the boy’s unkempt hair and grinned at him. “You did it! You turned back!”

The boy opened his mouth and then closed it at the faint whispering croak that came out, and nodded instead, his expression cautiously open, but obviously proud of himself. As he should be!

It was pure tolerance and sleepiness that made the boy endure Terra’s gentle prodding around, something that definitely wouldn’t happen with Vanitas, but that’s a different story. He’d not got much on, the magic that facilitated the transformation letting you keep your clothes mostly, but it wasn’t really used to staying dormant for so long and ended up in scraps that kind of clung to him. He looked like he’d been roughed up beforehand too, still-healing scrapes along his bare shoulders and a concerning number of very neat and orderly scars on his chest, but Terra’s first thought was honestly just to take off the hoodie he was wearing and pop it over the boy’s head, because he looked a little cold and his shirt was nonexistent. The boy looked surprised, and wrinkled his nose at the new smell, but hugged it a little closer. He’d need better shorts, or something, too, maybe Terra would just steal a pair of Aqua’s. The hoodie was huge on his little stick limbs, Terra’s shorts would be immediately useless.

As he was inspecting, the boy was doing some inspecting of his own — eyes wide and searching around the living room that he could think about clearly now that he shifted back. He let Terra move him a little, but avoided leaving himself in the same spots, awkwardly trying not to be touched anyways. The hoodie was nice, though. Comforting, and warm.

The boy was young, Terra concluded, but didn’t have the scent of a youngling. He was immediately submissive to the adult in the room and as long as Terra had lived he’d always made sure everyone knew the hierarchy system was kind of bs but in this case it came in handy, for making sure the boy was alright and for making sure he wasn’t gonna start fighting the instant he got better. One of his slightly averted eyes was a little cloudy, and his blonde hair was almost a mullet at that point though it probably wasn’t meant to be. He had kind of knobby-knuckled hands that poked out of Terra’s sweater, long and small and a teenager. Not that much younger than him, but young.

Terra scruffed up his hair once more and refrained, barely, from giving a bear hug or something. “Oh, bud, we gotta tell Aqua. You did it!” he repeated, and pulled out his phone.

The boy cocked his head. “Wh… what,” he started, and then stopped. It was a little hard to remember the correct words, and how to make them with a person-mouth. He sounded wispy at best. Luckily, Terra could kind of guess, or at least fill the silence.

“I’m gonna text Aqua with this and tell her to come back home. She’s the other person who lives here,” Terra explained, and typed aqua come home rihgt now.

The reply was almost instant, and it made his phone bing because he kept it off silent, which startled the boy. He craned his neck to see better. I just got to sociology. Why?

hangon

As stealthily as he could with the boy watching his every move, Terra pointed the camera at him and took a picture, covering the speaker so the noise wasn’t so loud. It startled him again anyways, but only in a curiosity way. He looked a bit like a deer in the headlights on the screen, and Terra sent the image.

omg

Is that him???

I’m coming back right now.

The boy lifted a hand almost as if to paw at the phone, but put it down. Terra turned the screen around anyways, and the boy squinted at it, slowly mouthing out letters then words then stopping and restarting.

“She says she’s coming back,” Terra supplied. “She’ll be 20 minutes, probably.”

“H-her…” he motioned above his head a bit, his hands stuttering. “...blue?”

“Yes! Aqua has blue hair.”

The boy brightened at the implied praise. He should, Terra thought, probably figure out what the boy’s name is, so he can stop calling him boy. He may not even want to be ”boy” at all, Terra knew nothing about him other than how he was rather small and didn’t seem to remember how to read that well or speak with much more than a few raspy words. Whatever could have done that was still very worrisome, but Terra decided to take things one at a time, as he usually did.

…

horrorwolves again but this time! published auverse

Ansem Report 13 10/02/2006 - compiled events - phase end.

Subject I: terminated upon transformation.

Subject II: terminated upon transformation.

Subject III: terminated upon transformation.

Subject IV: terminated upon transformation.

Subject V: 132.5cm/sh, grey, blue o. Successful fusion (2). Terminated upon fusion (X).

Subject VI: 165cm/sh, black, yellow o. Successful fusion (7), minimal degradation. Unknown location.

Subject VII: 170.5cm/sh, white, green o. Successful fusion (5), severe degradation. Terminated upon fusion (VI). Unconfirmed.

Subject VIII: 138cm/sh, red, brown o. Terminated by VII.

Subject IX: 141cm/sh, brown, blue o. Terminated by VI.

Subject X: 186.5cm/sh, black, red o. Successful fusion (3), minimal degradation. Unknown location.

Subject X.i: terminated upon transformation.

Subject XI: 131cm/sh, black, blue o. Terminated by VI.

Subject XII: 172cm/sh, grey, brown o. Terminated upon fusion (X).

Subject XII.i: 172cm/sh, grey, green o. Terminated by XII.

Subject XIII: 163cm/sh, yellow, blue o. Successful fusion (4). Unknown location.

Subject XIII.i: 163cm/sh, black, blue o. Successful fusion (4). Unknown location.

Ansem Report 6 05/05/2006

Another experiment ended in failure due to unavoidable degradation of one subject’s mind and body. It seems to occur due to the “fusion pool”’s inability to tag attributes as belonging to one or another… with that in mind, is it truly unavoidable?

The failure of past subjects to retain their individual forms after separation can be remedied, theoretically, if both minds and bodies are exactly the same. Under better circumstances I would prefer to attempt this on human beings before attempting it on creatures already touched by Her light, as they’re far less predictable, and I would be remiss to lose everything as difficult as these. They are much more complicated than sheep, at the very least. But perhaps they will take to it better for the same reasons.

We have been given a secondary facility to accommodate our new work.

...

more small fun horrorwolves bits, and l o r e

“Are you new?”

“Yeah, um. Freshman.”

“That’s so cool!” Ven says, completely meaning it. He’s shuffling back and forth excitedly from foot to foot, a gesture that solidifies his wolf status to Riku — he knows that habit. He outgrew it years ago, when he was a puppy, and still had soft baby fur. Ven does not seem to care. “How come I didn’t see you out like, two weeks ago?”

Riku rubs the back of his neck, reluctant to give… honestly any information over, even though his internal danger meter is dropping rapidly the more he talks to Ventus. He doesn’t look like he’s prodding for weakness or anything. Though, that is what you’re supposed to avoid doing, when you prod for weakness. “I was inside,” Riku concedes.

“Inside?” Ven gapes. “No way! You could have come with us!”

“I didn’t know that,” Riku mutters.

“Oh yeah.” (Shoot better hearing he forgot about that) “Well, you know now! You should meet Terra! Here, I have to go to class, but hang on,” Ven says, and snatches Riku’s phone from where it was hanging limply in his hand, about a second away from going into sleep mode. Riku just blinks in stunned awkwardness until he finishes typing something, and pops the phone back into Riku’s palm./////

//// “We have chicken wings. Regular kind and barbecue.”

“Don’t bribe him, Ven.”

The Ven in question sidles up closer to Riku and whispers “And the good pizza. Not Little Caesars, we went to Pizza Hut.”

“Ventus.”

“Garlic saaaauce.”

Riku suppresses a snort. “I don’t want to be conspicuous. Or… intruding.”

/// “Yyyyes!” Ven yips, “Riku’s coming!!” ///

Oohhh I can just do three separate things abt werewolves

///// “Technically there’s no such thing as ‘light magic’,” Aqua starts. “Because it’s not magic at all. ‘Light magic’ relies on natural processes, mathematics, things that make sense when they happen. People found light magic centuries ago and called it medicine. There’s nothing magical about it. By contrast, dark magic is things happening that don’t make sense. Forcing things to exist, or not exist, breaking rules, turning iron into gold, things like that. It’s not a moral binary, either. The sun rules the light, and will burn crops that don’t get water because that’s what happens to plants without water. The moon rules the dark, and will keep plants alive for thousands of years simply because someone wants it to be. That’s… does that make sense?”

“I think so?” says Sora, and he flips the silver crown charm on his necklace to the other side of his mouth. “It’s just science and weird science.”

“More or less. I doubt you could call magic science, etymologically.”

“How does dark magic work, then? Can I just decide I want to live forever?”

“Dark magic relies on the abuse of the light. Tricking it into performing something else. It’s the moon that allows it to be blinded like that, in the first place, though no one actually knows how, since research is… thin, and not there yet. And hardly ever published, aside from individual scholars all discovering the same things,” Aqua says, pursing her lips. “It’s not unexplainable. It is undiscovered.”

:// “Lycanthropy is, as far as we know, a strain of magic that in itself has mutated to be more like a virus.” ///

“There are theories about why it is the moon that does this. Lots of people think it has something to do with being a reflection of light, some perversion of the ‘right’ way things work, but the important thing to know is if you aren’t careful, and you use dark magic too much, the sun will hurt you. As it is, you’re fine, it’s just more natural to be shifted at night.”

“Oh… wait! Is that why vampires melt in the sun??” Sora gasps.

“I’m amused but not surprised you went straight to vampires.”

“Am I right?”

Aqua taps her pencil to her mouth. “Technically yes — well. Yes and no. Vampires are just dark magicians who want more power than they can handle, so they kinda have to resort to things like purified blood and sleeping a lot. They can’t actually turn anyone else.”

Sora falls back in his seat. “Nuts.”

“Why is that a ‘nuts’? What were you planning?” Riku asks.

/////

“Ventus! Vanitas! Sit down!” Terra yells. Both wolves recoil at the force with which the command comes, and Ventus’ tail drops, but neither of them stop snarling at each other. All it takes is for Vanitas to raise his hackles again and they’re on each other in an instant, snapping and throwing each other across the floor. Terra growls in frustration, pulls a slight transformation over himself, and steps directly in between them. He gets Vanitas by the scruff first, and shoves Ventus backwards with one foot. As soon as their attention is half-him half-each other, Terra pours as much force as he can into his voice and snaps “Change!” They do, if in uncomfortable bursts. Like they’re fighting to be the last one still changed. Ventus shakes himself off as he comes out of it, panting, his hands gripping the carpet like his claws are still snagged. Vanitas writhes in Terra’s grip, and can only contort himself so much to re-establish furious eye contact with Ven and snarl another wordless challenge. Ventus jumps forwards, but Terra presses his foot harder into his shoulder where it ended up and he withdraws. The pure electricity in the air is making Riku nauseous.

//////// “Ven,” Terra says, firmly, “I’m not budging on this.” Ventus glares, silently challenging him. Terra huffs and returns the challenge, and it almost immediately makes Ventus avert his stare and turn away, his pout deepening. “Fine,” he mutters. “Thank you.” Ventus practically stomps over to Riku, seething. On the way past, he snags Riku’s sleeve, and Vanitas gets snagged by Terra and pulled into the opposite room. Once they’re out of each others’ range, Ventus lets out a breath and scrubs at his eyes. Riku nudges the door half-closed so they don’t hear Terra and Vanitas’ conversation. “What was that? I’ve never seen you mad at anything.” Ventus snorts, his hand briefly recoiling at a bloody scratch near his temple. He scowls at it and wipes his hand viciously on his pants. “He’s annoying.” “Okay, but so is Demyx, and you haven’t attacked him. What’s it really?” Riku asks. Ventus growls, and cuts himself short with a stuttered sigh as he realizes it doesn’t quite work the same with a human throat. “…You know how you and Sora are?” He asks. Riku nods. “It’s kind of like that. You guys are equals and partners and you get along great. But we’re totally equal and it makes me mad. It feels itchy. And he knows it makes me mad! /////

giving ven a hard time by tossing him in the phantom pain zone

Terra cracks open the door and peeks in. It’s still almost totally dark, the blinds flipped all the way upward to banish light to the ceiling. The intrusion sends a long beam of hallway-light over a curled-up figure in bed, who makes a distressed noise and curls up further, blocking his eyes with his elbows.

Terra quickly steps in and shuts the door again, returning the room to its comfortable half-dark. Ven doesn’t talk to him further.

“You okay?” Terra prompts. Ven makes a “hmm.” noise, one that means he doesn’t want to say he isn’t, but he isn’t.

“D’you feel sick?”

He makes the noise again, smaller. Terra kneels, and gently pushes Ven’s hand away from his forehead to feel it. One of them in a fist, the other tangled in his hair. He’s hot, almost feverish, but not in the sticky-warm way he’s used to meaning sick. Ven lets the air in his lungs out through his teeth in an uneven shudder, and Terra notices — he’s shaking. And very, very tense.

Terra’s expression dips further into worry. “Something hurt?”

“Yes,” Ven hisses, digging his nails further into pressure-white palms. Terra is taken aback by how short he sounds. He’s never short-tempered, or angry with them. He’s always bubbly and lax, even when something goes wrong — and he’s almost glaring at him, through his forearms. His eyes are watery, and despite the glare, they don’t quite seem to focus.

Terra lowers his voice. “D’you have a migraine? I get those, sometimes. I can get you some medicine.”

Ven starts to shake his head, and then winces and brings his knees closer to his body. “‘S not… I don’t think so,” he rasps.

He doesn’t elaborate. Thinking in more than one sentence at a time, or more than one thought at a time, is fuzzy and wobbly and painful again, like how it was when he started training under Master Eraqus, but more frustrating. He can come across words fine. He can process what hurt feels like, and what it means. It’s just — nasty, and hot and tight and he doesn’t like it very much. Terra asks “Where does it hurt, then?” and Ventus has to keep from snapping at him for the stupid, inane, perfectly normal he’s concerned about you he wants to help question.

“Everywhere,” Ven says. Terra furrows his eyebrows, he needs to be more specific. Ven uncurls one hand from its fist and gestures vaguely at his chest. He means to say “here”, but it comes out as a whine.

“You wanna get the Master to look at it?”

“No.” Ven does snap, this time. Which is ridiculous, because yes he wants it to go away please fix it make it stop but just because that means more people in his room and the Master seeing him weak and useless seeing him like this and because Terra is asking and that’s— that’s too many thoughts again, that’s— The awkward conflict sends another wave of fuzzy-static-pain echoing like a gunshot from his heart, and he squeezes his eyes shut to ride it out.

Terra’s hand is smoothing his hair back from his forehead. He thinks. And then doesn’t think, because it really hurts, like someone is yanking half of his heart out, and it’s just scaring the rest of him into hurting too just to disperse the load. He thinks Terra says something like “I’m going to get help,” which, once it registers, sends a soft rush of relief through him. His breath still catches, but that’s good. That Terra doesn’t listen to him. Ventus pulls the blanket up over his head and waits.

//it turns out — he hears this through static and his heartbeat and three voices, not two — it’s just a kind of phantom pain. From whatever happened to him, like he had lost a limb or something. And it’ll go away, but it might come back. If he were more awake, he might be relieved at the fact that there’s nothing new wrong or that it’ll go away on its own, or maybe even angrier that it’ll come back and he didn’t do anything wrong to earn it. Maybe not. But at that moment, Ventus just wants Aqua to close the door. It’s barely open, but the hallway light is on. He just really wants her to close the door. ///

...

riku takes over some dreameater duties for sora's heartmates, too

Riku does not sleep easy, in the year that Sora is gone.

When he doesn’t, he stays up, tapping at a screen for hints hidden in his data (it’s a stretch, but he’s stretched thin). When he does, he searches for hints of him in the dream realms. There are many, many sleeping realms even outside the sleeping worlds, and he never has normal dreams anymore, anyways. So, it may be more accurate to say that Riku does not sleep, in the year Sora is gone.

He may not be the only one.

Ventus, Terra and Aqua come back from the Realm of Darkness every few weeks. Aqua was insistent they take breaks from it, and no one was going to argue her. When they do come back, sometimes they take time to catch up with the rest of the Realm of Light, and sometimes they take time to be together in the Land of Departure, on their own. They’ve invited Riku over more than once, and he’s grateful for it, because despite taking him away from the computer, it gives him a little room to breathe. He has his own guest room, and the kitchen, though more manual than Sora made the Tower’s, still has good morning food tailored to his favorites. Aqua’s been working on that.

(Sometimes he can sense their nightmares — just on the edges of his consciousness, while he wanders.)

Ven usually wakes up last, and skips into the kitchen to take whatever it’ll give him. This morning, and the last, and the one before that, to be honest, he wakes up late and stumbles into the kitchen rubbing at his eyes and yawning.

It’s worse this morning. Riku’s been slowly eating away at a bagel and a mug of coffee for the past hour, reading a book Aqua recommended to him about realms and reality. Ven is only given away down the stairs behind him because he squeaks when he yawns, the rest of him is silent as he pads into the kitchen and stands at the counter. The castle seems to take pity on him and rustles the basket of croissants for his attention, which he gives by taking one and stuffing it in his mouth and leaving it there.

“Didn’t sleep well..?” Riku asks.

Ven startles just a touch. “Hmph? Oh, not really.” He gives Riku a half-wince smile. “Couldn’t fall asleep at all! I’m okay though.”

/// u see like snippets of Roxy and Xion and they’re also tired :( but that’s later uhhhhh frnow…. “No,” Ven mutters, stopping and switching directions mid-step. He runs towards the houses — “No, no…” Runs his hand through his hair, switches directions, stops. Riku can feel his mounting distress. So, a dream where he’s lost, or maybe where he can’t find something important. Not a terrible nightmare, but a distressing one nonetheless — so why was it strong enough that Riku could feel it?

“Hey,” Riku tries. “Ventus.”

He doesn’t respond, stuttering to a halt and turning around again, letting out a shaky breath. “That’s not right,” he whispers.

It must be a larger nightmare. Or maybe since it’s leaving him idle, it’s at a lull in its dream, distracted somewhere…

Riku turns away to sniff out the source. Nightmares have a distinct, almost dark smell, but it’s never strong enough to be immediately obvious. He has to search, and to do that he has to follow the layered cobblestone paths Ven’s subconscious has littered all over the place like confetti. It’s not a maze, it’s just… a lot of pathways. Riku finds himself searching for a while before it reveals itself.

There it is. Under the bridge, a strange-looking Skelterwild is preening itself and pulling bits of the nightmare bubble it had crafted back and forth, like a toy. It’s a little… gooier than the nightmares tended to be with Sora, but it doesn’t look anything special.

Riku edges closer. It looks like it’s just the one, if he remembers anything about nightmare packs and how solitary the really big ones usually are. He can definitely take it.

It turns away, and Riku lunges.

For a big dinosaur spirit, it comes apart pretty easily — claws lodged between its armor plating wrench one of its legs free from its body, the resulting thrash nearly sending Riku into the underside of the bridge. It howls at him, a rattling garbage disposal sound more than anything, and Riku sneers right back. He dodges its jaws neatly, and rams his keyblade right into the thin part of its neck. The skelterwild makes one last screech loud enough that Riku hopes Ventus didn’t hear, and collapses into three separate pieces of dissolving nightmare.

Riku dismisses Braveheart and finds himself with a small smile playing across his face. He had missed this — doing his job, fulfilling some sort of innate purpose he wasn’t aware he was longing for. Sora has always just filled in pieces of him that he wasn’t aware were missing pieces until the puzzle got scattered. In losing Sora, his purpose had become the same way, scattered, in more ways than one, apparently. Riku’s smile falters a little. This puzzle piece wasn’t the right color, or even perfectly shaped, but… it fit well enough.

The skelterwild left a small assortment of pieces behind — most notably a few shuddering wild fantasies among the slowly-fading nightmare essence. Riku had decided a long while ago that he’d call it “essence”, because it’s not meat and it’s not melty corpse or spirit clouds or anything, it’s just the left behind base form of nightmares whatever shape they take and it also smells and tastes very very good and if he ever has to explain that whole dream eater phenomenon to anyone who isn’t either Bumpis the meow wow (constant thief of perfectly good food) or Sora himself, essence is the word he’s calculated to have the least amount of follow-up.

In any case he usually likes the bigger nightmares, they tend to leave more behind and have more of a form in the first place, like the fruit bits in a marmalade rather than just the jam runoff at the top. Riku runs his tongue along his fingernails, contemplating the value of taking those dream pieces, and paws through the remaining nightmare essence to swipe up a bit more of a reward. He’s not particularly hungry, and he’s maybe a little self conscious about eating someone else’s nightmares.

(He notices Ven’s nightmare tastes a little less sickly-sweet and a little more sharp, like if freezer burn was mildly pleasant. He would liken it to mint, if it had a physical flavor.)

Almost like a computer powering down, the odd building-stones that surround them start to grey in color — the nightmare is fading. If he’s right, they should just fade into something nicer like a day at the market, or a puppy convention, or another one of Sora’s dreams he had laughed and rolled his eyes at.

Or, y’know, they could suddenly start disappearing altogether and send things sailing into the void.

Iiiiincluding Ventus.

Riku, having very little time to think about this, scrambles out from under the bridge as it too falls apart at the seams (the wrong ones, not stone by stone, but scrap by scrap ripped off a magazine spread). He spreads his wings, hoping the transformation lasts a little longer, and zips past dissolving flowers and flyers and scoops up Ven in one swift movement.

Ven lets out a little squeak of horror at the sudden jolt to a stop and subsequent momentum upwards, and buries his head in his jacket. Riku keeps going up, because that’s the easiest way to move away from the collapsing nightmare, and eventually new ground will form below them.

Unless it doesn’t. Maybe he should interfere a little bit more, make sure the next dream is nice…

As suddenly and gently as the void disappears below him, a soft expanse of sand appears where it fades away, and Riku stops flying and lets himself drift slowly to the ground, familiar palm trees placing him exactly where he exists in memory. It looks like Ven’s been here too, sometime, seeing as the basic structure of the dream is his, Riku’s just the guiding force keeping the dock where it should be.

He didn’t come here on purpose, really, it’s just been on his mind. But it’s a safe place. And maybe kind of familiar enough to keep him sustained for the rest of the night.

Ven, for his part, falls out of Riku’s arms with a whoop!, right on top of what probably used to be a silly sand sculpture. He jumps off immediately, mortified, and then sullen when he apparently realizes what he did.

“Ugh,” Ven pouts, and kicks at the scattered lump of sand. “Now I have to build this thing all over again.”

“…A sandcastle?” Riku asks.

“No, if I’m gonna find experiment 626 again, I need a ship. I’m trying out different materials since my old one blew up.” He kneels, and starts scooping sand back into a neat pile.

Riku’s not a stranger to how dream logic works, though it’s not really that much easier to follow now than it was the first time Sora changed topics on a dime. “Good luck, then,” he says, and turns to leave. And then… turns back around, and after a moment of hesitation: “Can I help with anything?”

Ven leans back and flips his head up, thinking. He’s in a pair of shorts, now, though the rest of his outfit hasn’t caught up, and the contrast is funny-looking. “Ummm… could you see if there’s glue anywhere?”

“Glue… for sand?”

“Yeah! To make it stronger.”

“Alright.”

“Thanks, Riku!”

There’s not going to be glue anywhere else on the island, but that was a dismissal good enough for Riku to be sure Ven wasn’t still caught on the edges of a true nightmare. The dream is already kind of fuzzing and blurring into thought-shift cotton.

But just to be doubly sure. Riku pulls and twirls the dream between his fingers, weaving it just a little brighter, a little sweeter. He’s not sure exactly what he’s doing to the dream itself, but Ventus deserves something nice after visiting the realm of darkness for as long as he had. The memories it leaves are not usually kind.

Riku leaves once he hears a familiar peal of laughter come from behind him somewhere — and had he turned around, the sight of Ven in full-on vacation clothes and sunglasses holding a little blue alien thing right up to Terra’s face might have made him stay just for the atmosphere of it.

...

crash lands vanitas and ven on lilo and stitch GET STITCH PARALLELLED (this is just a silly script i was going to make into a comic but started to prose it)

Ventus and Vanitas are hurtling through gummispace at very high speeds, and what exactly got them into this situation is a blur of scuffling and curses and chasing each other down not to make a giant sword this time but not not make a giant sword if it means getting the stuff you took back, but that doesn’t particularly matter, because hurtling through gummispace at very high speeds tends to overrule everything else.

And as such, neither of them notice that they’re hurtling through gummispace at very high speeds towards a world they’re going to collide with if they don’t cut it out. Which they do not, obviously.

The first indication that something is wrong is the sudden introduction of gravity. See, the keyblade gliders can go very high, but it’s not like the pilot can just ignore gravity. You have to be very skilled in order to fly one without crashing.

No one is piloting.

/////////the glider screeches thru space with ven and vani practically wrestling over it it careens off course Poff! Through the clouds, and at this point ven realizes he’s going to Crash and kicks at vani to get back on top, but vani grabs vens feet sending the whole thing spinning head over tail until it makes a gloriously comedic CRASH right into a patch of palm trees on the beach we see vanitas eat sand as he lands in an awkward somersault on his face hb HGBPRHHWHTH. PHEH. PTH. eugh. vanitas looks around and sees… pretty much hawaii, but he doesn’t know that. A street by the beach, houses behind fences and plants and palm trees, sand and rocks, a couple people walking where they can’t really see them, a hen strutting by. he also sees ven laying down next to a pretty large rock in the sand with his helmet knocked off. seeing that that’s his priority right now, he puts his helmet on and strides over to him ventus? hey. ventus. (Kick. Kick. Kick kick kick kick kick SAND THROWN IN FACE.) ACK. hgwhrtynbghmmhhh. what. no, never mind. wake up. you crashed us on another world, idiot, I don’t sense anything. Get us out of here. mheadh hurts. goway (Exasperated) Just use cure. Esuna , whatever, eat a gummy bear. Fix it. (vanitas cannot do either of these things and do you think he carries potions bc I don’t) mm. … (ven is just grasping at the air repeatedly) what are you doing itwont … mmm. (Hisses) You can’t summon your keyblade?!! Then how are— i know. ijudgnmth…. …be less loud. vanitas, a little concerned that he’s broken and therefore he’s stuck in hawaii forever until someone comes to find him and probably kill him, starts poking around at ventus. But before he can find anything, a voice offscreen goes HEY hm HEY!!!! hm stitch launches himself at vanitas’ face. ACKHBPTJ he drags him off and stands there holding him by the scruff but meanwhile stitch realizes venven is here and sproings away off of vanitas face again venven!!!! ……..626? whatreeyou doing here? (garbled stitch noises) whoa … (garbled stitch noises) (incomprehensible slurred ventus speech) (vanitas is losing his marbles)

You didn’t answer my question. (vanitas startles and whips around and summons his keyblade. Lilo is standing there precociously.) Are you aliens? Are we… what?! You fell from the sky on a spaceship. Plus you look weird and alien-y. Where’s your face? (Offended) I do not— How are you talking? yanks off his helmet. Who are you? It’s alright. I know a lot of aliens. Are you bad guys???? On the run from the government????????? The What? you kind of look like weird tourists, actually Vanitas picks her up so she stops circling him and poking at him. That’s enough. Hey! HRRRRRRRH (stitch noise) vanitasknnock it off. ven turns over to see what’s going on but there’s Sun this way, so he groans and covers his eyes is he okay? He’s fine. We’re fine. Leave us alone, we’re not aliens. he doesn’t LOOK okay. You should come back to my house before the government finds you. The govermen aren’t looking for us . I’m gonna go get my sister. Guard him. HRRRRRH. ……?!!!

… vani: what Are you supposed to be name stitch. oh. Uh… I’m not telling you my name. Ven… friend? No. (Alien muttering) ……… ……(uncomfortable)...... …….(a scrapper pops up)

/////Who are you? I am the darkn- look, it doesn’t matter. When is he supposed to wake up?

...

an au where riku is a youtuber and also owns eight cats? i dunno what this one is theyre cats though

Hey! So um, my last video got super popular for no reason, but a lot of you guys were asking who the kitties were in the background. So. Let me introduce you all to my cats! I have eight cats. All of them are rescues. I didn’t mean to get eight cats, this just happened to me. This is Sora. He’s the first cat I found and the cat from the last video, and he’s the love of my life. He likes to sleep on top of my head. He’s the king of the house, not because he’s the oldest or anything but because when he wants to do something stupid he’ll get everyone else to do it with him. I found him as a little teeny baby behind my house. He walked into my house, I did not invite him, he decided he wanted to live here first. This is Kairi, she’s my second. I found her as a kitten under a boardwalk and she nearly took my finger off for touching her, but her secret is if you scratch right behind her ears she purrs like a motor. She’s a very quiet kitty, but she only likes crunchy kicky toys, so I can tell when she’s playing. She and Sora will play this game where they sing in the hallway and whoever is louder gets to start chasing the other one. This is Ven! He’s the oldest I think, but not by very much. He likes to investigate the camera whenever I film—(muffled sniffing) AHEM. I dunno if you saw but one of his eyes is clouded? He’s half blind, but he’s the one who jumps at me from the top of the cupboards, so it doesn’t seem to bother him. He’s very sweet, he is always grooming the other cats. I think he knows he’s the big brother. He also gets the zoomies every night at 11 pm so. This one is Vanitas. (MRAAAOW) He’s always tagging along with Ven, and (MRAH) he likes to yell at the camera whenever I film. He is the rowdiest and the worst (MAH) influence. He’s got a cute little nub tail, but he doesn’t like people touching it. I found both of these guys on the freeway at like 2 am, Ven had been… hit, we think, and Vanitas was really sick. He was doing okay enough to bite me though. We took them to the vet and everything and Ven was mostly ok, just super scared of me and really weak, but Van had to have his tail amputated and surgery for his intestines along with all the mange and he haaated me for nearly a month. I was scared I’d have to release him for being too feral. He’s super food motivated, though, so that made him warming up to me like this easier. Ow. Van This is Roxas! The one sleeping next to him is Xion. I actually fostered both of them before just flat out adopting them, they came out of a house fire, they had been living in the garage. You see here, Roxas has burns all on his paw pads… they’re healing pretty slowly. When he first came home he couldn’t walk on them, we had these cute little casts that he toddled around on. He’s a pretty small cat compared to some of the other male cats, but he’s got a very big attitude, if I’m doing something he doesn’t like, he will tell me. Very calm most of the time, though. If I open a tuna can his eyes go so big. Xion is even more mellow until you bring out the feather toys, which she loves playing with. She’s also really curious, so if I’m making myself a snack, she’s on the counter with Vanitas trying to see what my snack is all about. Sometimes I catch her trying to do the human things I do to get her own snack? It’s very cute. If you look — oops. Roxy didn’t like me doing that. But if you look at Xion’s fur she’s mostly black except a stripe down her tummy. She didn’t get quite so badly burned, but her fur was very singed for a while. This is Namine! She’s very pretty, and she has a very pretty voice, do you want to say something for the camera? mrrrh? yeeahh. Anyways, she was actually a show cat, or she was going to be. But her previous owner had some legal trouble and had to surrender her. She’s very shy,////////

...

sprawl thing

But first SECTOR SEVEN’S MOST WANTED

You shuffle through the photos in the box. There’s a good amount of them, not award-worthy, more like a beginners scrapbook. Some of these are a little thicker — they’re videos. You grab one at random and press play.

sora: Vanitas!! How does it feel being wanted for a million billion credits on the black market Well it’s nice to be wanted. Vanitaaaas :( Vanitaaaaaaaaa Sora get- SORA I am cutting FISH

Ven how does it feel being the only outside source on Unity in the whole universe probably! Kind of terrifying why You should be used to it. You’ve always been a hot commodity :] ….,(shoves camera)

(Roxas is in the aftermath of his own explosion accident) Roxas how does it feel being smarter than everyone in this room If I wasn’t here you’d all die We sure would

Xion (in tideweather;s hangar) how did it feel stealing this from the government Ballin’ You heard it here folks the law doesn’t apply to me if I have an eighteen foot flying tank!!!!!

Sora how does it feel being the only one able to make mom’s pancakes without burning them (those pancakes are of the DEVIL) Pretty gooooood. :]

That must be from later. In the story, at least. Vanitas looks… less murderous than you expected.

...

vanitas spooks even lol

There’s a knock on the door, but no person at it. Even squints, slowly putting down his paper file folders, and then leans forward a little off his desk to peer around the corner. He’s about to write it off when he glances to the right, and finds a dark shape a little too close for comfort.

He jumps backwards, startled, and squints harder. Vanitas just stands there looking unimpressed.

“Goodness!” Even barks. “A little warning would have been prudent.”

“I knocked.”

“You ding-dong ditched my laboratory,” Even grouses, ignoring the way Vanitas’ head cocks to the side. “Nevermind that. Did you need something?”

Vanitas kicks his heel against the ground. “Yeah, apparently you’re not supposed to grab hot pans without a mitten or something. It didn’t even hurt, but I guess it should have. Xion thinks it’s a replica thing and made me come.”

Were they cooking? Even’s first thought is wondering if they were cooking, and how much of the kitchen had burned down already. Though, his second is a mix of confusion and concern.

“Well, that can’t be it. I’ve input the same amount of nervous system data into each of the replicas, and they are perfectly tactile.”

“Nervous what? I don’t want that.”

“Nervous system. The process in your body that lets you feel when you touch physical objects. The — you should not be picking up hot pans without mitts,” Even sighs.

“Why?”

/////

....

i think thats it this post is too long already HFGEJHK

#sorry most of these ven has a Debatably Not Good time HGJFSYGGF im bullying him. and also giving him a kiss on the head #my writing #kh #kh ventus #AND OTHERS #kh vanitas #hes here often #wayfinders and riku show up #horrorwolves #sprawl au #theres uhhhhhh...... i dont think ill tag them they can hang out #i have One fic thats CLOSE to being done but isnt done about sora and ven going to rapunzel's wedding and i want to finish that

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