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pebblysand · 3 years

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[JUNE ‘21] - THE LIFE UPDATE NO ONE ASKED FOR (AND SOME QUICK LINKS)

Well, hello everyone! How are yous? Happy June! The sun has been shining here in Dublin for two days straight (for anyone who knows Ireland, you will understand that this is a notable event) so, by way of consequence, I’m in a very, very good mood! It’s twenty degrees; I’ve been on lots of walks and had take-away pints with friends - it has been such a lovely couple of days! Additionally, considering that there are a lot more of you on here than there were last month (which is mildly terrifying but oh-so awesome): welcome! This blog is a little bit of a trainwreck of my own shit posts but I’m so glad to have you on.

As an introduction, first, here are some quick links to different blog pages you might not see on mobile :

to read my fics [updated]

to read my original work [updated]

fic recs [updated]

to read my tumblr rants about stuff [updated]

[NOTE: i am currently accepting prompts for short ficlets on the hp fandom if you fancy. my ask box is open :).]

Everything else, under the cut (contains: ETAs for current WIPs, fic ideas, reading lists, and a long essay on why I am not writing original work/maybe I would if you promised to read it?)

Currently, I’m writing:

**Castles [HP - post-war canon]**

links extended a/n-s: chapter v ; chapter vi & vii ; chapter viii

ETA for next chapter: I’m currently aiming for early August.

** Prompts **

As I said above, I’m accepting prompts! I have a couple in my inbox right now, I’m hoping to get them out in the next couple of weeks but if you have any other requests, do let me know!

** Shorter stuff **

Okay, I’m going to innovate here and do a sort of poll. I love all of these and am not sure which one to write first so if any one of them appeals more, do let me know and I’ll get on it!

Harry&Hermione one-shot [in the manner of what I did with the wolf’s just a puppy and ce ne sont que des cailloux, I’m kind of in love with the idea of exploring the war and post-war canon world from different people’s perspective. I have had this Harry&Hermione one shot in my head for quite some time, basically outlining their friendship and life from Hermione’s perspective. I’ve gotten a lot of comments from people on Castles telling me that they loved the Harry&Hermione stuff so it would basically be more of that. If that sounds interesting, please do let me know.]

A bit in the manner of the above, I have a story about Seamus in my head as well, which I’d love to write re:the war and post war. Possibly Seamus/Dean but I haven’t quite decided.

An original horror/thriller story [Features a girl-serial killer and a very claustrophobic setting. Great vibes, lol.]

That Peaky Blinders fic I started and never finished [I’m just so intrigued by how Mosley said he knew May. I love May. It would be the story of that, lol.]

Currently, I’m reading:

I have to admit, I haven’t been reading loads this month. I think it’s always this thing of: if I’m writing, I don’t write and if I’m reading, I don’t read. I kind of need to block out other people’s stuff to write my own, if that makes sense. This being said:

I haven’t really advanced on either Watch her fall by Erin Kelly nor the Divergent series.

I have, however, FINALLY FINISHED Troubled Blood (the jkr/Robert Galbraith controversial novel). My verdict? Is it transphobic? Maybe? Like, if you squint? It’s a lot less transphobic than the essay, I’ll tell you that. No one is actually trans/claimed to be trans in this. The ‘trans serial killer’ doesn’t exist. There is, however, a side plot of a killer who crossdresses to lure his victims, which is an obviously re-hashed, lazy representation of cross-dressing as a negative thing. Is it full of second-and-third-wave feminist cliches? Yes. But it wasn’t that bad. Like, I’ve seen a lot worse. I was raised on second & third wave feminism so I’m somewhat more tolerant of them. No, honestly, my main criticism for this book is that it is FIVE HUNDRED PAGES TOO LONG. And, that’s coming from someone who loves long books (hell, my favourite potter book is OOTP). Would not recommend it unless you’ve already read the others and are invested in the characters.

I have started Face Off which is a collection of crime short-stories edited by David Balducci where famous main characters of different crime series meet. I’ve read the Michael Connolly/Dennis Leane one and it was fine. Not a bad read. There was one good quote.

I am also reading the seam between, an hp long fic by copper_dust, which is basically the best thing ever written. I rest my case and will probably never write again, considering the perfect-ness of this. If you like Sally Rooney, I get very strong Sally Rooney vibes from this.

In other news:

As I definitely hoped, this month has been a lot kinder to me than the last. My mum’s almost fully recovered from her stroke, which is its own little miracle for which I am very thankful. France has been taken off the mandatory quarantine list in Ireland which means I will soon be able to visit home (and hopefully get my vaccine shot). Also, as I said above, the sun’s been out for the past couple of days, which is also filling my heart with good things. After a drunken evening with a friend who swears that men-on-hinge suck less than men-on-tinder, I have downloaded hinge in the hopes of some post-pandemic dating. This fills me with a mix of enthusiasm and dread, like men generally do, and has led to some interesting realisations. Spoiler alert: men-on-hinge do not suck less than men-on-tinder and I am not one for online dating. I have never successfully dated anyone met online and most likely will not. Let’s hope for the sake of my single arse that pubs reopen soon.

My new job has been uneventful and mobilises about two brain cells at a time, but pays bills, so. Additionally, I’ve been having fun going through old tumblr posts which has sent me into a number of irrepressible bouts of giggles, looking at the shit posts I used to make when I was younger. I’ve also found some more interesting/creative pieces which I’ve been able to add to the quick links listed above. That’s definitely been fun.

This being said: look. The main thing that’s happened this month is a) the hinny ficfest and b) CASTLES IS OUT THANK FUCK. Guys, I know I’ve said this before but I’ll say it again: you are fucking incredible. The amount of love and support I’ve received from the potter (and particularly hinny) fandom this past month has been through the roof; I really can’t thank you enough. Even for Castles, I mean. Ask @whizzfizz, they can tell you how much of an emotional wreck I was prior to posting, fucking convinced that a) no one was going to like this and b) I was going to get so much hatred for ‘going there’. Instead, you guys have been so supportive and appreciative, left entire bloody essays in the comment section, and oh, I can’t even fully comprehend it. I haven’t had time to properly answer anyone yet but I promise I will. I'm so excited to write what comes next. I probably won’t for a few weeks because I know that my brain needs to take a break but just know that you all have truly made my month.

There is one comment/question that I’ve had a number of times that I feel like I should address which is the do-you-write/would-you-write-your-own-stuff-one-day question. And, the answer to this is: I have/I would like to, but.

Basically, like everyone who has a day job, I only have so many hours a week I can put towards writing. And, whilst I admire people who write for the art/write for themselves, I don’t. I write to be read. Like, I know this sounds cliche but your comments, your kudos, your feedback is what I write for. I’m a gryffindor. I’m an extrovert. I seek attention like no one else, haha. My comment section is something to behold and if someone has taken the time to leave a review on my fic it kills me to leave a comment unanswered. I have learnt so much and am forever thankful for all the responses I’ve ever had on my work, be it positive or negative. Positive feedback feeds my ego. Negative feedback makes me grow. Hell, as I explained in the extended a/n, a single comment was basically responsible for me choosing the route I chose to take in the latest chapter of castles. Additionally, over the years, I have made countless connections and friends through fandom, and specifically through writing/reading fanfic. It has truly made my life so much better and to me, the engagement in fandom is invaluable.

And like, if I’m honest, yes, of course, it would be great to write my own stories, build my own world and my own characters. I’m sure if I sat down with it, I would have a million ideas a minute. And, yes, it would tangentially be great to make money off writing, though this has never really been my primary goal (side note: I refuse to monetise fanfiction for reasons outlined here). But … No one would read it? I mean, I’ve definitely seen this with the first short story I ever wrote. Getting it professionally published online was amazing. I couldn’t believe it. I even got money for it, which was fucking bonkers. But then… Nothing? Like: you don’t get comments, you don’t get feedback, you don’t get engagement. It is just a thing that exists, that gets put out into a void with a shrug and a thank you from the editor. And, that’s just not … Fun? At least not to me. I write for fun. For the community, for the comment section, and - to tell the truth - to connect with people. I truly admire writers who write a book in their own little corner for years before putting anything out there, but that’s just not me. Honestly, I don’t have the self-discipline for that, and I wouldn’t enjoy it. Like, let’s be real: if no one was reading castles, I probably wouldn’t care as much as I do. With the limited time I have to put towards writing, I prefer to write fanfiction because I know that it will be read/engaged with in some sense. I need feedback to stay motivated with a story, if that makes sense.

So, I don’t know. I’ve kind of been thinking of a patreon format maybe? More for the community aspect than the money aspect, if I’m honest. I don’t like the idea of posting on tumblr because I find long posts messy/hard to read but I think I’d write original fiction for €1/month if I’m honest, if I knew another human was reading it/if there was a regular deadline associated to it. So, like, let’s try this. If you would be interested in seeing that, maybe message me (anon or not) or like this post or something? If not, I think I’ll be perfectly happy to stick with only writing fanfiction at this point, at least until Castles is finished.

Anyway, I hope you have a lovely month!

Lots of hugs.

#life update #writing #june 2021 #castles and shit

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juniaships · 3 years

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Actiontoongorlz's Top 8 Canon x OC Ships 💖💖

I've been looking at OTP/Couples memes for a while and decided that it's time for me to make my own! For an extra surprise I'm not putting Ben Tennyson x Jora Holiday on this list because I focus too much on them anyways & I want my other OCs & their loves to have the spotlight for a change. The timing couldn't be more perfect as we're close to Valentine's Day!!! If you don't support canon x oc or find my ships displeasing then move along because this is a Happy Place! 😁😁 Again these are couples that I consider my personal OTPs in regards to canon x oc. That and making more content with my ships in general! Be warned the text is long and contains spoilers for certain shows and such!!

Clarify: these are my own ocs so there's not going to be anyone else's oc/canon. I might have to save that for another post in the future! 💚 But yeah these are characters that I came up with :]

Alright I'm done ranting, let's get started!

1. Sonic x Lani: I never quite gave much thought into this pair as I should so I promise to do something with them in the future! I promise! What I appreciate about SonLani is that there's little drama, like everything is super chill because both parties are chill. It's not a big deal and they don't need grand gestures to show how much they care about each other. Unlike Preboot Archie with its carts full of poorly written romance and strangely OOC moments on Sonic's end, SonLani had a lot of time to grow, while keeping his established personality in check. They actually communicate with each other, and stick by each other thick and thin. Lani loves Sonic for who he is & has no plans on changing him. Likewise Sonic has someone he can rely on when things get tough; not to mention he can really be himself around her without going all "iLl sLOw dOWn fOr U." Plus the ship name I gave them is a huge nod to the games ^_^

2. Jason x Vanessa: A recent pair due to Vanessa being a new creation but I'm honestly in love with them right now. In-universe they are regarded as the prime example of 'Opposites Attract' in Odyssey. They didn't get along very well in Jason's first couple of months in town due to his hardheaded self and her aloof demeanor. But through events such as Blackgaard and Novacom they gradually learn to trust one another. They see each other in a different light, Vanessa realising that Jason is a lot more thoughtful than he lets on, and Jason discovering her hidden fun side and kindness. Vanessa provides challenges and a sense of normalcy Jason can enjoy away from spy business. Meanwhile Jason fulfills her thirst of adventure & simultaneous desire for a peaceful life as well as spirituality. They're a equals, regarding each other as such and not to mention the BANTER! Hard to believe a former nun can keep up with a secret agent both physically and trading barbs XD. There's also the Forbidden Love factor of Vanessa being the duaghter of Regis Blackgaard, Jason defending her because he KNOWS she is nothing like her old man. Their friendship and romance overcome so many obstacles. I can honestly say that if Vanessa was canon she'd be the type of person Jason would like to be with especially over Jillian Marshall *gags*

3. Kaysha Wallace x Leo Hamato: Now here's a ship that I want to get more into 😁😁 Honestly I love the idea of this pairing: the serious leadee x bubbly spirit! Kaysha is very perky yet understands Leo's feelings on shouldering so much responsibility (she being the oldest child in her family). She's very willing to support him because she doesn't want to see him get all weary from burden. Likewise Leo can be himself around her, and teach her to be more responsible. He doesn't doubt her potential and sees her as an equal even during those periods where she was not on par with the other ninja. Kaysha shows Leo it's okay to relax and let other people help him out and not shut everyone out. When Leo expresses his ability to give her a safe life she simply laughs it off; the way she sees it him simply there in her life is enough. The most interesting facet is their dynamic varies between shows, so you'd see different scenarios and reactions as well as similarities and differences in their romance subplot.

4. Artie x Rhodanthe: Another couple I seriously need to give more attention to, they're meant to be is the foil to Shrek and Fiona in several ways. Artie and Rho may come from different social classes but they're both searching for a purpose to prove their haters wrong. Artie lacked confidence while Rho was overconfident believing she didn't need help. Together Artie learns to stand up for not only for his kingdom and loved ones hut also for himself; Rho's pride gets tempered by Artie's kindness and willingness to compromise. Another thing I like is that Artie has someone who loves him for him not because he is attractive and of royal blood. Likewise Rho has someone who respects her in spite of her social standing & shares her beliefs in making life easier for the poor & outcasts. While both lacke the physical prowess of Shrek and Fiona they rely on each other's resourcefulness and strategic thinking to get by. Unlike Shrek and Fiona they don't get married at the end of their focus movie, resolving to figure out where to take their relationship next. They still have their own life goals and don't want to rush into a relationship which sends a pretty good message. However they have their disagreements - in fact they got a huge argument that became a plot point in Shrek Forever After - but through it all they rediscover the things that made them fall in true love with each other. I'm really loving the subplot I have planned where they forget their memories and slowly fall back in love again.

5. Finn x Alma: Surprise! Yes8 I have a Cars OC (that was originally a fanon Disney Princess) who is the niece of Tow Mater in my verse and she enters a relationship with Finn McMissile. The thing I love about this pair is that it allows Alma to use her skills to flourish, treating amd healing injured spies. She's also into travel and adventure so she can pretty much keep up with Finn. Likewise Finn realizes she is more than just a pretty face or a one-off fling but someone with the passion to face challenges head on; Finn seems to love a good challenge! But overall they'd make a nice pairing, Finn showing Alma the world and Alma showing Finn some of the more simpler things in life.

6. Alexander Paine & Qiu Jin: Well well well look at what the cat dragged in? If it isn't our first villain pairing? XD Just kidding only one half is a genuine villain. What makes this couple so unique in that their storyline goes way back to before the events of the show, he being a agent and she a mechanic. They loved each other deeply, even to the point of starting a family, but forced apart due to some troubling events. When they do get back together it's not so much a bittersweet reunion as Paine became a full villain and Qiu Jin had spent years in&out mental institution before being released There's visible pain & regret, Alexander desperately wanting a semblance of what they once had. He seeks power not just for himself for to heal her. But Jin refuses to go along with his schemes wanting nothing more than to move on and see their children. Jin is a huge Mortality Pet for him, but his own selfish desires for power is a major obstacle their love can't overcome. It's the more bittersweet of my pairings but an important one nonetheless.

7. Bruce Wayne x Nicola Holden: Ok the Brooding Guy/Gentle Girl trope is a mixed bag these days but I really like this trope in regards to Brucola. Like with Artie/Rho, Bruce and Nicola come from different social classes but has that same compassion and drive to help others. Nicola is someone Bruce can trust but at the same time she lets him know there are boundaries (aka don't use my weaknesses as a contingency plan). I also feel like Bruce needs a sort of normal love interest, while he has canon normal girlfriends most of them were pretty boring. At least with Nicola she has has a life outside being a love interest her own goals and motivations. She also loves Bruce for him, not because of his money and good looks. It's a generally healthy dynamic built on honesty & empathy. Another reason why I find this pair adorable is that it actually matches with the rest of the Trinity; you know, like how Superman is with a journalist and Wondy is with a soldier/agent. Nicola & Bruce having different ways of pursuing justice while still sharing similar moral codes. It helps that Nicola is actually a hero rather than an antihero/villain/straight villain (Bruce dating a villan would only make him look like a hypocrite). Nicola sees all facets of Bruce's life and makes the choice to stay; provides some much needed light not just in his life but also the rest of the Batfam. In turn Bruce has another connection to the normal world that is willing to be in his life and see him genuinely happy. They're mature adults who ground each other and build each other up.

8. Optimus Prime x Malina Lovelace: Okay is it just me or do I think TFA Optimus Prime needs more love? What's funny is that at first Malina didn't like the thought of being outshined by newcomers in her superhero career. Spending time with Optimus makes her realize that there's more to being a superhero than fame. Optimus doesn't look down on her, and is more than willing to work with her and appreciate her work. She becomes touched by his friendliness and aceepts him and the other Bots. At the same time Malina reminds Optimus that it's okay to make mistakes and move on, and that it's okay to cut toxic people out. I even wrote a noncanon ficlet where Malina calls out Sentinel and Blackarachnia for the way they treat Optimus. OptMalina is a romance built on respect despite the obvious differences. Not to mention they have each other's back, and they learn about each other each time. And just like with KayLeo and BatRose there's different continuities which means unique versions of the Optlina pair. The Bayverse *chortle* and Prime versions are a few I'd love to explore in the future!

Miscellaneous

- Chad Charming x Soraya Nedakh: Essentially snobby rich kid who learns to be self sufficient and see past appearances through a positive influence. Soraya helps Chad to understand that being royalty isn't just pretty clothes and parties but actually using that status to help others. And Chad actually has his views challenged: Soraya doesn't back down easily.

- Jetta x Zane: The concept of JettaZane (or A Touch Of Snow/IceMagic) is that the robot teaches the human what it's like to be human. Jetta started out as an extremely cold person and a loner, but her time with Zane - the literal ninja of ice - gradually melts her heart & she becomes more caring and accepting. So the robot programmed to be human helps the human raised to be a cold machine unlearn her toxic traits and reclaim her humanity. Also Pixane is kinda boring imo, like they're only together because they're both robots. Not very compelling if you ask me.

- Brian Crown x Kelly Arbol: The wellmeaning goofball and the beatnik poet are something I rarely see much of, but that pretty much sums up their ship. Brian may be a bit self centered but he has a heart of gold and through Kelly's influence he becomes more confident in being a worthy successor to his dad. Meanwhile Brian respects Kelly in and out costume and teaches her how to have fun. Not to mention Kelly interacts with someone outside her circle, which is a welcome change from the trope of only dating someone within your circle.

- Janus Lee x Lenora Rose: Another pair from the same show as Paine and Qiu Jin, there's not much to say on them other than it's one of the most tragic couples. Lenora died a long time ago due to circumstances beyond her & Mr. Lee's control and it's her death that was the catalyst to his gradual descent into evil. As the show goes on we see glimpses of their life together and realize that Lenora is more than the Ghost, she was someone with her own dreams and motivations. She and Janus were outcasts who found companionship in each other, and were able to build a life together using their hard-earned resources to help others. Even in the last few months of her life she didn't go down without a fight, wanting her legacy to be one of love and hope. It's her memory that may be the key to redeeming Mr. Lee in the future of A.T.O.M.

- Ben Florian x Paige: Again not much else to say but they're the antithesis of Mal x Ben. One thing that bothers me about Mal & Ben is that they are supposed to be equals when it's pretty darn obvious from the scenes they were not. With PaigeBen it's clear that they ARE equals who respect each other. Ben's agency isn't reduced to just love interest, he has someone he has good communication with and wants to see him succeed. Paige has someone who shares her interests and see her more than just that One American Newbie. They LEARN to work together without love potions involved. Plus we haven't had a commoner Disney Princess in a while so Paige fills in as someone who works her way into high status then uses that status to help others with Ben at her side.

That's enough of my Canon x OC OTPs! I hope to explore them more throughout the year :) I work hard to flesh out my OCs and their romantic storylines as if they're real 💚😌

I do have KayLeo week planned for Feb 14 to Feb 21 so don't be shocked when I start posting rottmnt stuff or art of Kaysha! Anyways these are my personal ships that I enjoy despite the lack of content I made of them, so hopefully I have the creative juices flowing to make more stuff! Final note I'm working on a platonic oc x canon meme to show that love doesn't have to be romantic. A

#canon x oc #oc x canon #otp #multifandom #actiontoongorlz #oc meme #oc x canon meme #long text tw

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iwrestlenow · 3 years

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Many More To Die

TITLE: Many More To Die

FANDOM: Sanders Sides (Necromancer AU)

SUMMARY: For over a thousand years, necromancy has been forbidden in the Kingdoms, the Necromata--its practitioners--feared, reviled, and punished for a power they never asked to wield. Those Necromata who are not killed in the cradle are taken from their families, stripped of their Name--the core of identity and memory--and imprisoned for the rest of their lives.

Logan was twelve when he entered the palace dungeons. Prince Roman was fourteen when he witnessed the young necromancer being brutalized, imprisoned, and left to suffer.

Roman only wanted to offer the other boy comfort, and perhaps a scrap of dignity. He didn't realize his kindness would follow both of them into adulthood--or that Logan would one day become the only person in all the realms that Roman would be able to trust with his life, his heart, and his very soul.

SHIPS: Logince (Logan/Roman), future Moceit (Patton/Janus) and Dukexiety (Remus/Virgil)

WARNINGS: lots of death because necromancy, slash, and more to come as I figure it out ‘cause it’s late and I’m tired. Also, no betas, we die like men.

NOTES: This is based on the gorgeous piece of art by @gretacticdraws that can be found here. I ended up writing a ficlet for it, and then my brain got swallowed up. Breathe at me wrong, and I’ll write more...hell, who am I kidding? I’ll write more anyway because this? Is self indulgent drivel. XD

Also located at AO3 over here.

1023, A.A.

Necromata.

Sitting in the middle of his cell, twelve year old Logan...Logan choked on tears as his shoulder screamed, his bones ached, and the flickering lights of his cell let his imagination run wild with all manner of monsters and omens of doom lurking within every shadow.

He knew he was lucky—many necromancers were caught in the cradle and killed. Very few survived as long as he had. He could be grateful to his family for that much, that he'd lived long enough to escape a death sentence.

He did have a family. He knew that much—remembered that much. Everything else, they had taken before throwing him into his cell. The prison mage's hand was still a ghost of cold fire against his forehead, worms of icy coal burning through his brain to wipe out every trace of the things that would make him what he was, allow him to be more safely contained.

The name spoken with fear and loathing was all that he had left.

Necromata. The legions of the Animator...the necromancers.

“Psst!”

The hiss echoed off the stone in the corridor, made his heart leap into his chest as he looked around for the source of it.

“Psst! Over here!”

Logan tried to scramble back from the door of his cell, and screamed when he forgot about his dislocated shoulder, collapsing as it gave way under his weight.

“No, don't—please, it's okay. I don't want to hurt you.”

Blinking, Logan squinted into the low light beyond the torches that barely lit his new home. Something bright green flickered there, an outline visible that was vaguely person-shaped.

“Who...who are you?” he asked, curling his injured arm as close to his body as he could so he wouldn't forget again as he got to his feet.

“I...I'm not supposed to say.”

Logan shuffled a little closer to the bars of his cell. “Then how do I know you don't want to hurt me?”

“The prison mage took your Name—you won't understand if I tell you. Just...”

The person-shape on the other side of the bars moved forward, an arm protruding through to set a bowl on the dirt floor of Logan's cell. Inside there was water, and sitting across the rim was a heavy piece of leather.

“I saw what the guard did when you came in. Your shoulder...it happened to me once when I snuck out to hunt for the Lazari.”

“The Lazari don't exist.” Logan replied, reaching up with his good hand to try and wipe some of the tears and snot off his face. “They're a fairy tale, like the Animata.”

“How do you know?”

Logan opened his mouth...then closed it after long moments.

“I...I don't know.” he admitted. “I must have lost it when the prison mage took my Name.”

“Then you could be wrong.” the person-shape insisted, those emerald flecks in the near shadow sparkling with determination. “I'll find a Lazari one day. Just you wait.”

“What does that have to do with my dislocated shoulder?”

“Oh! Sorry—uhm, I did it once. When I snuck out, I fell from a tree and mine popped out. My brother showed me how to use the bars on our window to pop it back in! I threw up, though—and he made me bite a belt so I wouldn't scream.”

The hand appeared between the bars again, nudging the bowl and the leather strap forward a little further.

“I can tell you how to do it.”

Logan shuffled forward a couple more steps, then shifted to kneel in front of the bowl of water.

“I...might know.” He replied, staring at the bowl for a long moment before he peered back into the dark, into the green spark that was his benefactor's eyes. “Thank you.”

The person-shape said nothing for a long moment...

“Berry.”

“What?”

“Berry! The guards called you Logan, right? They took your Name—maybe Berry can be your new one.”

Before Logan could comment, the person-shape grew less distinct, and the flicker of green was gone with the clatter of footsteps scurrying away into the dark.

It was a silly idea—a Name taken could not be restored so easily. Still, the word rattled around in his head along with the one that made his bones ache again.

Necromata. Berry. Necromata. Berry. Berry.

Logan Berry.

Something stirred in the middle of Logan's mind, in his marrow—in the place that magic had scoured out and rubbed raw within the pathways of his brain. Something stirred, settled...

Something slid into place, and all of a sudden the shadows were far less frightening.

Popping his shoulder back into the socket hurt far more than dislocating it had—and yet while he'd sobbed his soul out after being injured, after being robbed of all that made him a person, he shed not a single tear as he put the leather between his teeth, wrenched his joint back into place, and used the fresh water to clean up after he'd emptied his stomach into the corner of his cell.

He even managed to sleep on his pallet of straw, and dreamed of green embers in the dark, drifting into the shadows in his cell and transforming every monster into a friend.

**********

1033, A.A.

“I had the dream again.”

“A kinky one?”

“Sweet leaping gods, Remus!”

The high, strident cackle of his twin brother echoed through Prince Roman's bedchamber, making him wonder yet again why he thought he could talk to the crazy idiot about anything remotely meaningful. Yes, Remus was trustworthy—he gave Roman all manner of hell for the secrets he shared, but had suffered his fair share of indignities to keep his mouth shut—but sometimes he wondered if it was worth the teasing and the laughter to have such a steadfast confidant.

Remus had secrets of his own, after all—the numerous Anima that shared his bed, for one. Like Roman, Remus was fascinated by the Necromata, the true necromancers that all citizens of the Kingdoms were taught to hate and fear. The Anima were little more than pretenders, mages of other disciplines that toyed with the death magic that had been outlawed for over a thousand years.

Still, they had a lot to teach—and made good company, from the way Remus spoke of his dalliances.

“Oh, I'm just yanking your chain, big brother!” Remus assured him, crossing over to drape himself over Roman's back, chin settling on Roman's shoulder to read what his twin was writing as he hunched over his desk. “C'mon now—tell me about the dream, and I'll tell you about the Necromata I fucked last night.”

Roman straightened abruptly at that, unceremoniously sending Remus sprawling to the floor. Turning his chair, he gaped down at his brother and pointed an accusing finger at him.

“You did not sleep with a real necromancer, you lying sack of horse dung!” he hissed. “Why would you even say that in the palace of all places?!?”

“Because the sex was unbelievably good?” Remus offered, shrugging from his place on the floor, flat on his back. “Believe me, Ro Bro, a guy that can't actually feel human contact can keep it up for a nice, long, slow roll in the hay. It's pretty remarkable!”

Roman just huffed, standing from his seat—and promptly sinking to the floor to sprawl out right beside Remus.

“You're lying.” he said simply.

Remus was quiet a long time...then sighed.

“Of course I am. He was just another Animata.”

“Anima. The Animata are a myth, like the Lazari.”

“Since when did you turn into such a brainiac, Roro? We both know I've always been the smart one.”

Roman rolled his eyes with a grin, stretching his leg to kick Remus's ankle—but the truth of the matter was, Remus was right. Between the pair of them, Remus was smarter by leaps and bounds. He was studying the collegiate sciences when he was seventeen, and began his magic training before he'd even reached puberty. The fact that the only part of the sciences he enjoyed were anatomy and mortuary study were entirely besides the point, as was the fact that Remus wasn't actually capable of using magic at all.

He was, as their father lovingly put it, a rogue genius: in possession of an intellect so massive that the rules couldn't restrain him. He either knew too well how to circumnavigate them, or he simply didn't care enough to bother and did what he wanted—what he thought was right, no matter the consequence.

Roman might have been the elder of the twins—by one hour, eleven o'clock of one night where Remus came at midnight the next morning—but he aspired, every single day, to be the maverick that Remus was. He simply lacked the brains...and the courage.

Which was why today, it was Roman their father would be naming as his successor, and not Remus. Roman would be king, would rule by the law and the will of the gods, and Remus would...get to be Remus for the rest of his life, a crown prince without a care in the world.

“Tell me about the dream, Roro.”

Remus's voice was gentle this time, his fingers walking their way along Roman's arm until he could find his hand and weave it into his own.

Roman sighed, staring up at the mural on the ceiling of his bedchamber—a beautifully wrought depiction of the Fall of Death, the final battle between the Animator, the first of the Necromata, and their ancestor, King Thomas Andres, that had saved the Kingdoms over a thousand years ago.

“He was in it.”

“The boy from the dungeons?”

Roman nodded. He could feel Remus watching him...

Just like he could feel the boy from the dungeons watching him every time he had the dream... ********** “He was here again.”

“Jumpin' Jiminy, Lo—are you sure?”

Logan nodded, mostly to himself. Patton couldn't see him, not from the bathtub behind the partition that separated it from the rest of the room, but it hardly mattered—after eight years as cell mates, the two of them had become as close as brothers, as close as twins according to some of the guards that had met the king's identical twin sons.

They had grown so naturally into the relationship, it made Logan wonder sometimes if he'd had a brother before his Name had been taken.

Well...it made him wonder in the early days, at any rate. Logan had stopped wondering many years ago.

Suffice to say, Patton didn't need to see him nod to know that Logan had.

“Well? What'd he do?”

Logan let his mind wander back to the night before—the dream space that he so often occupied, the boy that had come to him in the dark ten years before with a bowl of water, a leather strap, and a name.

The boy he'd come to think of as the Green Man, with those eyes that the dark couldn't fully hide.

“The same thing he always does.” Logan managed to reply, setting down the pen he'd been using in favor of resting his elbows on his desk and steepling his fingers to press against his lips. Among those Necromata imprisoned in the palace dungeons, Logan was quite fortunate: he was allowed a cell mate, access to books and writing implements, even a small window sill garden consisting of plants that couldn't be used for magical purposes.

He was very lucky. Ten years of good behavior had given him an incredible amount of leeway and granted him creature comforts like access to regular bathing privileges. The guards even referred to him by his chosen name.

He was, for all intents and purposes, treated like he was truly human. A prisoner, always, but one the guards and prison mages shared a basic blood connection to, unlike the other Necromata.

“...Lo?...Logan!”

Shaking himself, Logan cleared his throat and tried to beat back the heat he could feel rising in his cheeks, having been caught wool gathering.

“Apologies, I didn't catch that.” he called over his shoulder.

“I said, did he say anything this time?”

Logan shook his head, knowing once again that his actions would be understood rather than seen. Patton asked the same thing every time Logan mentioned the visits, and every time it was the same.

If Patton really knew the content of the Green Man's visitations...

Pressing his fingertips to his mouth again, Logan shut his eyes and let himself remember.

The visits were always in a dream space—for years, before the visitations became more regular, Logan had assumed the Green Man was a guard's son, or the child of some member of the palace staff. Later, when the Green Man came to Logan in his sleep, he figured he was the son of a prison or court mage—who else could manage to dream walk in the mind of even a crippled necromancer like him?

Then again...Logan was different from many prisoners like himself.

In the dream, Logan still cannot see his face. Like those ephemeral dreams from his first few nights in the dungeons, he's little more than shadows with burning points of light the color of fresh shoots just springing from the soil. Over the years, he's become more distinct, but still nothing Logan can give any real definition.

He is a man made of darkness, his eyes reflecting what spark of magic lives within him. They never speak to each other—Logan never dares, secretly apprehensive that disturbing the quiet will somehow end this irregular communion they share.

All the Green Man does is extend a hand, the only part of him Logan can truly see. What was once small and slim fingered has changed over the years into a large hand, broad but lean, tendons standing out below each knuckle and tanned by exposure to the sun. Every time, he reaches out, and every time, Logan takes his hand and just...holds on.

In the dream space, Logan can feel his touch. It's likely a projection, something imagined, but there's strength and warmth in that hand—the pressure of fingers meshing with his own, the heat of palm sealed to palm. There's something under the skin, itchy and trembling, and it makes Logan want to pull away because it's just too much...

The Green Man never lets him. Gradually, the feeling passes, and Logan clings until the feeling returns, crashing over him and sliding back in waves beating the shore of his nervous system.

Logan is always the first to let go. The Green Man makes sure of it—and then he leaves.

“Are you okay, kiddo?”

Logan looked up sharply, twisting to see Patton over his shoulder. His mop of tawny curls is swept back from his face, still dark and wet from his bath, the chill of the cell raising gooseflesh on his bare torso.

He has one hand holding the towel around his waist, and the other resting on Logan's shoulder.

The pressure is barely there, that buzzing awareness of contact easily missed if not expected.

Patton hastily lifts his hand, face screwed up in silent apology. Logan dislikes physical contact, even if he cannot feel it—just like any of the Necromata, so divorced from the living, human populous that they cannot even connect to them through touch.

“Didn't mean to spook you, Lo. Just...you're real quiet. Usually, you got more to say after a visit from You Know Who.”

Logan nodded, then made a point of reaching out to squeeze Patton's hand briefly before letting it go just as quickly.

“Apologies. I suppose I'm just...distracted by today.”

“Yeah—hey, you think the prince'll come down here?” Patton asked hopefully, drawing back to go and find some clothes. “I mean, if he's gonna learn to be king after the ceremony...”

Logan let Patton continue to chatter about the potential for this new ruler to somehow see their plight, somehow be their salvation. He let the words, the hope, wash over him without making contact.

Patton could have hope, because he had no Name. No history, no memory, no past and therefore no future. He was a blank slate, for all intents and purposes, unable to access the power of the Necromata with no life of his own to bind it to.

Unlike Logan. Logan, who no longer wondered if he'd had a brother in his family.

Logan, who could share a dream space, something only mages were capable of.

Logan, who had been given a new name by his benefactor so many years ago, a name that others used daily.

Logan Berry, who even now could feel the essence of every rat behind the dungeon walls, every guard on patrol, every prisoner languishing beneath the lowest floors of the palace...and every noble, every royal, every peasant up above.

Logan Berry, who could not remember his family, but could remember that he once had a brother.

Because, despite the fact that a Name taken could not be restored so easily, Logan had taken a name freely given and made it his own.

A Name, freely given. A life, restored.

Logan could not have hope, because he had the power of the Necromata at his fingertips—and it was only a matter of time before good behavior would no longer be enough to earn him the leeway to stay alive.

#sanders sides #logan sanders #roman sanders #logince #ts logic #ts creativity #thomas sanders #fanfic #ts fanfic #necromancer au #this is all the artist's fault i'm just a hapless writer that stumbled across it #never trust me with nice things #my name is liz and i swear to god i will fic again

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kingreywrites · 4 years

Text

Make my messes matter - Chapter 1

Fandom: Tangled

Word count: 1515

Summary: A series of seven ficlets focused on Rapunzel learning to navigate life in different ways after living eighteen years in a tower, with Gothel as a mother.

Chapter Title: Touching

Read on ao3

Note: This is quite different from my usual stuff, but I hope you’ll like these anyway! And happy birthday Rapunzel ;)

Rapunzel had always seen touching as a calculated risk.

It wasn't that Gothel had never touched her, or that she herself had never initiated contact - it was that it had never been a casual thing. When Gothel had touched her arm, or kissed her hair, or booped her nose, there had always been a hidden message behind it. Even as a kid, when Rapunzel had revelled in every inch of affection her mother had been willing to give her, she had understood pretty quickly her silent cues. Sometimes, touching her hair meant that Gothel wanted her to stop talking; sometimes, grabbing her arm was a command to do as Gothel said; sometimes, hugging her was a threat. Stay with mommy, Gothel would whisper in her ear as Rapunzel melted into the contact, you wouldn't want me to be heartbroken?

Of course, being raised by a manipulator, even if she hadn't exactly known it, meant that Rapunzel herself was often guilty of using touch as a mean to an end. A calculated risk - and Rapunzel was pretty good at calculating.

Though she tried very hard to be subtle about it, she had known what Gothel thought of contact - and had used it once or twice to her advantage. If her mother was too busy pushing her off her arm, she wasn't as focused on what Rapunzel was asking. If her mother was very mad about something, Rapunzel knew that making her hair brush against her skin was a sure way to distract her. Gothel had been a smart woman, who wasn't easily duped - but Rapunzel was smart too. Even if her strategies didn't work every time, it often helped her maintain the status quo.

Of course, everything changed once Rapunzel left her tower.

At first, she had thought that Eugene - well, Flynn at the time - used touch the same way she did: to get something in return. He did put a reassuring hand on her back when he had wanted to convince her to go back to the tower; he had pushed her further into the Snuggly Ducklings even though she was trying to back off…

And then, in the flooding cave, he had gently gotten her hair out of her face to look at her eyes and calm her down.

"Eugene Fitzherbert," he had said, a little and vulnerable smile on his lips, and Rapunzel had to rethink everything she thought she had understood about him, even as she revealed her biggest secret in return.

Touch, she learned that day, could simply be. It could be a hand on the small of her back, as she watched the little flag he had gifted her; it could be the pressing of his tights against hers, as they perused books together; it could be a hand on her cheek, as warm as the flames making the lanterns float, as he leant in to kiss her…

It could be that same hand, on her same cheek, this time colder and weaker and unable to hold itself up without her help as Eugene died in her arms.

When touching had been a matter of calcul, it had been easy - but touching Eugene was anything but easy. It was burning, it was new, it was painful and it was the best thing she had ever experienced. It was a hug she couldn't contain as he breathed again, it was him holding her hand when she was nervous…

It was love, given freely, unconditionally. Rapunzel couldn't help but be addicted.

But if Gothel had been cold and calculated, and Eugene was her polar opposite, Rapunzel soon understood that not everyone saw touching the same way. Rapunzel discovered the world, and just how wide it was, and, at the same time, she discovered people, in all their differences.

For example, her parents never refused a hug, but were obviously not as comfortable with it as she was. Now that she knew how good touch could be, Rapunzel couldn't help but crave it, hoping to catch up on years of lacking - and bear hugs were a personal favourite, even though it wasn't always welcomed.

Timing was also an important factor, and her father had to give her a talk about appropriate times for hugging (as in, not in the middle of a royal council). That was something she understood pretty well, actually, and didn't have much trouble assimilating after some mistakes along the way. There was still a part of calcul within all this touching business, even if people didn't want to admit it.

Except for Eugene. He never used touch as anything but what it was, however, Rapunzel learnt quickly that Eugene's touch was quite different from everyone else's.

Anyway, her biggest touching mystery had been, without a doubt, Cassandra.

"She told me she didn't like hugs," Rapunzel explained desperately to Eugene as she was, quite ironically, cuddling with him on her bed. "Is that normal?"

"Well, she is a dragon so- okay, okay," he laughed when she glared at him, "very serious issue here."

"It is to me."

"I know," he whispered, his grip on her waist tightening as he softened, "I didn't mean to make fun of you. As for your question, yes, there's plenty of people out there who are not tactile and who don't like hugs. I didn't like hugs before you!"

"That sounds like a lie," she snorted, "you're even cuddlier than I am."

Eugene gasped dramatically in mock-offense, and then tickled her to get back at her, and they kinda lost the point of the conversation between a laugh and a kiss.

"The thing is," Rapunzel explained to Pascal some time later, who was wearing his best focused face as he stood in her palms, "I know that Cassandra likes me. And I like her, a lot! Shouldn't touching bring her comfort?"

"It does," a voice that was decidedly not Pascal answered. Rapunzel startled badly, nearly throwing Pascal in the air in her panic, and turned to see Cassandra looking at her with raised eyebrows.

"Cass!"

"It does bring me comfort," she continued with a shrug, going to sit next to Rapunzel on her bed, "but only if it's when and where I want to be touched."

Rapunzel glanced down at Pascal, before meeting Cassandra's eyes. It was rare for Cass to talk so honestly to her, and Rapunzel didn't want this to end but, to be honest, she was pretty embarrassed to have been surprised by her friend.

"Listen Raps," Cassandra sighed, "I've never been too touchy-feely, but I swear that it's not against you. It's just how I am."

"I'm sorry," Rapunzel answered softly as Pascal climbed to her shoulder, "I- I guess that I never quite learned how to deal with my emotions and so, when I'm happy I just want to show it. But I don't want to make you uncomfortable."

"Well, I never had a friend like you, Princess. We'll both have to learn how to deal with the other," Cassandra smiled, even if her tone betrayed some kind of nervousness.

Rapunzel grinned, vibrating in place until Cass admitted that she wouldn't mind a hug right now - which resulted in her being tackled by an all too eager Rapunzel, who had waited for this occasion for quite a while now.

Touching was not, in fact, a calculated risk - at least it shouldn't be. Rapunzel understood that lesson quickly, but had a lot more trouble applying it. With Eugene, it was easy - most things were with him. Sometimes, when Rapunzel felt like she needed someone to hold her together, she knew she could run up to him and he would open his arms without an ounce of hesitation. Eugene wasn't scared of touching, wasn't scared of the risks that Rapunzel had spent her childhood being mindful of; he gave everything freely.

(Well. With Rapunzel mostly. But, through the years, she would see him hug Varian, Lance, Angry and Catalina, her parents, his father - and so on and so on - and she would know for sure that he was cuddlier than he liked to admit.)

However, Rapunzel herself tended to forget what it was really supposed to be. Sometimes, she surprised herself being the calculating one - hugging her father because she wanted something from him, or using touching as a way to distract someone and these- these were the worst moments. Sometimes, at night, when she felt particularly alone, she would worry that she was truly Gothel's daughter, that she would never escape her influence.

Those were bad days.

Then, in the morning, Eugene would notice that she seemed down - he would always notice, no matter how much she tried to hide it. And then, when they finally got a moment to themselves, he would hug her tight, not even bothering to make an excuse for it, and Rapunzel would feel better. She would remember what she gained, by leaving this tower and she would remember why, no matter what, she needed to keep on improving.

So, on those days, she hugged Eugene back and swore to herself that she would do better.

#tangled #Eugene Fitzherbert #Rapunzel #Cassandra

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inevitably-johnlocked · 4 years

Text

CHRISTMAS FICS 2019 Pt. 1

Happy holidays everyone!! This year, no one asked me for my latest Christmas fics, so I took the opportunity to do something I’ve wanted to do for awhile: give ALL OF the bookmarks I have for the Christmas season... essentially updating my current Christmas lists so I make sure I didn’t forget any of them :P

Included below is EVERY bookmark I have up to today, for both Christmas and New Year! I hope you enjoy everything!

I’ll have Pt. 2 up for you tomorrow, which is EVERYTHING I have recently recorded for my Marked for Later list, and kindly ask you wait until THAT list for you to add your own lists so that I have everything I should read in one place! <3

Hope these lists get you into the holiday spirit the week before Christmas!! <3 Love you all!

ALL XMAS BOOKMARKS Dec. 2019

See also: New Year’s Fics (Jan 2018)

New Year, New Beginning by DaisyFairy (T, 810 w., 1 Ch. || New Year’s Eve, John POV, Post S4, Friends to Lovers) – New Year at a crime scene and John makes a decision.

Q 1 HR by StillWaters1 (K+, 2,234 w., 1 Ch. || Friendship, Hurt/Comfort, Sick John, Fluff, New Year’s Eve) – On New Year's Eve, Sherlock discovers that sometimes it's the seemingly innocuous, rather than life-threatening, conditions that can keep John from The Work. And John is reminded just how deeply their friendship runs.

Not My Proudest Moment by charlock221 (K, 2,695 w., 1 Ch. || Lunar New Year, Mild PTSD / Panic Attack, Coping Mechanisms, Friendship, Hurt/Comfort) – John tries his best not to get in the way of Sherlock's cases, but when the vivid noises of fireworks unnerve his senses and begin to bring back unwanted memories of Afghanistan, he cannot help but to hope Sherlock will notice and help him before things go too far.

Unimpressed by 221b_hound (M, 3,106 w., 1 Ch. || New Year’s Eve, Dancing, Jealousy) – Sherlock has no intention of attending the Met's New Year's Eve party. The start of a new year is all but meaningless to him. But he ends up there anyway, having odd conversations, and John does not find Sherlock's jealousy the slightest bit cute. And then there is dancing. Part 10 of Unkissed

Coldness/Heat by agirlsname (E, 3,790 w., 1 Ch. || Cuddling & Snuggling, Body Heat, New Year’s Eve, PWP, Bedsharing, Frottage) – The inn is booked up on New Year's Eve. The train home is cancelled because of the snow. The only option is to sleep in the non-heated guest room of a client, and John and Sherlock are freezing. You know where this is going. Part 1 of New Year's Kiss

------

Again, if you have fics to add, I kindly ask you wait until TOMORROW’S list to suggest them, so that they’re all in one place I can logically remember to check for new fics to read!! :) This list is meant to be my gift to you guys, with my bookmarks list, and Tomorrow’s is the community gift to the fandom with stuff people have suggested to me and others! <3

#johnlock fic recs #my fic recs #christmas fics #all bookmarks #long post

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pocket-full-of-wonder · 4 years

Note

ahhhh the first time asking for help drabble was amazing 🥺🥺 kags thinking he has to be completely reliable like PLS :(( thank you so much it warmed my heart !! for the new list i wanted to request number 42 🥺 thank you for all your hard work!

awWW i’m so happy you liked the little ficlet!!! i was really happy with how it turned out so i’m glad you enjoyed it!!! :D

((#42: “Why are you shaking?”))

(Read on AO3)

~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~

“You’re home late.”

“Are you sure you aren’t just home early?”

Shouyou snorts, kicking one foot over the other and leaning into the arm of the couch. His feet are on the coffee table and his laptop rests over his thighs. “Me, home early? As if.”

Tobio finds it in him to roll his eyes as he hangs his coat on the hanger by the door. Today’s been a fine day, a great day, even better now that he’s home and Shouyou is home with him.

“Is it your night to do dinner?” Shouyou asks, fingers flying at the laptop keys and eyes glued to the screen. “I don’t remember.”

“Yeah, you got soba yesterday, remember?”

“Oh yeah, that’s right.” He keeps typing. “Soooooooo… were you wanting to eat in or should we go out?”

“Depends.” Tobio kicks off his shoes, sets them neatly at the genkan and steps into the main room, moving toward the couch. “What are you up to?”

“Oh!” Shouyou glances up at him and scoots over; Tobio sinks into the open spot beside him and hooks his chin over his shoulder. “Not much, just business emails. Apparently Tamiko’s sister is having a baby and he wants to be there, so we’re trying to negotiate shifts.”

Tobio nods. “Fun.”

Shouyou huffs. “Tell me about it.”

“Please tell me you aren’t covering all his hours.”

“I won’t, I won’t. But I wanna be able to cover what I can. I won’t do more than I can handle, I promise.”

“Good.” Tobio bonks their foreheads together lightly before rising to his feet. Shouyou had been leaning into him and has to righten himself before tipping over. “In that case, I’ll make dinner here. We have some leftover stirfry to use up, don’t we?”

“Unless you had it for breakfast yesterday, yes.”

“Alright. Good luck with the adulting.”

Shouyou salutes stupidly at him before launching back into it. Tobio heads into the kitchen, finds the aforementioned stirfry in a Tupperware container in the fridge, and starts with dinner.

It’s one of their better nights at home, actually. With exception of the hours Shouyou spends trying to convene with his coworker until they can reach an agreement, they don’t have anything going on. Tomorrow is Saturday. Shouyou works a short shift and Tobio doens’t work one at all. They don’t have classes. They don’t have meetings. And this Friday evening is spent with tomorrow’s promised lazy-day on their minds, as Shouyou takes a break from the laptop to eat dinner and they complain about this and that, and in between discuss their plans for tomorrow.

Which, they end up planning to stay home tomorrow and maybeee hit up their favorite coffee shop, but that’s a hard maybe and staying home is a lot more appealing. It’s a good night with a promise of a good tomorrow, and they go to bed warm and eager to face the new day.

~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~

Tobio is a heavy sleeper.

Of the two of them, he is the ‘dead to the world, would take more than an entire circus on their loudest night to rouse him.’ Shouyou is ‘a pin drop would probably rattle him in the way a fire alarm would.’ Shouyou wakes at everything; Tobio wakes at hardly anything.

Which is why it surprises him to be woken up in the middle of the night, knowing he was woken up, but not knowing by what or how.

There isn’t any noise. There isn’t any light. Their alarms haven’t gone off (they always silence them on Friday nights and turn them back on again the same time Sunday). He hadn’t been roused intentionally, it would seem. Tobio lies there in the darkness with his arms tucked under his pillow, eyes awake and staring at the far wall. He listens, and waits, and holds his breath.

And then he feels it.

It isn’t much. Barely anything. Definitely not enough to wake him as thoroughly as he’d been woken. Usually Shouyou would have to jump on him before he’s this awake and that came with its own set of risks.

But.

Tobio rolls over on his side. Shouyou’s back is to him, white t-shirt clinging to him even though it’s a size too big (or maybe two sizes. Or maybe three. It’s Tobio’s shirt). Tobio can’t tell whether he’s awake or asleep.

“Shou.” Tobio takes him by the shoulder. Shouyou’s muscles tense beneath him and answer the unasked question. “Are you cold? What’s–”

Shouyou pushes his hand off, which. He won’t lie, it kind of stings a little. But for no longer than a second, because Shouyou isn’t like that and the only times he’s been like that are when something’s been very, very wrong.

“N-No, I’m fine,” Shouyou stammers, voice thick. “G-Go back to sleep, I’m fine.”

“You don’t sound fine.” Tobio sits up fully now, and starts to reach out, but stops just before touching him. “What’s wrong? Why are you shaking?”

“Nothing,” Shouyou hisses, but his voice is throttled and he sounds congested. “Nothing, it’s nothing, go to s-sleep–”

“Shouyou–” But he stops again, for another reason. “Wait, why–Why are you crying? What happened?”

“Nothing!” Shouyou actually pushes him this time, twisting an arm around to shove him in the knee, though it doesn’t do much of anything and it wasn’t really supposed to. “I kicked the nightstand by accident and it hurt, okay!? That’s what happened!”

“That isn’t what happened, Shou.”

“I said it is, g-go away.”

“Shouyou.”

Shouyou chokes, curling his knees into his chest and burying his hands in his hair. “What?”

Tobio swallows hard, ignores the tightness in his chest and scoots closer, until his knees touch the lower part of Shouyou’s back. When Shouyou doesn’t push him away again, he reaches out and touches Shouyou’s cheek with the back of his hand.

“What happened?” Tobio asks, then stops. “Oh god is it because I spilled the teriyaki sauce on the rug? I know you were really upset ab–”

“No, no, no, it’s not about that, I–” Shouyou’s breath hitches. There’s a strangled noise in the back of his throat. “T-Tobio–”

His voice is so broken and disrupted by so many sobs and filled with so many tears that it barely sounds like him at all. It’s barely a squeak, barely anything, barely together.

Tobio would be lying if he said he didn’t panic a little, because he didn’t know what was wrong and he’d never seen Shouyou cry like this before, ever, but he hauls Shouyou upright and yanks him into his arms, pressing him against his chest and holding fast.

“It’s okay, it’s okay, I have you. I have you, alright? It’s okay.”

“N-No, no, no, it’s s-so stupid Tobio it’s so stupid it’s–”

“Shh.” Tobio rubs his back, up and down, soothingly. He manages to keep the tremble from his hand. “It isn’t stupid, Shou, it’s not stupid.”

Shouyou sobs, guttural and deep and muffled against Tobio’s chest. “I-I didn’t really hit my leg, I-I just–”

“I know you didn’t, I know.”

“I-I’m sorry–”

“I know, I know, I know. It’s okay. It’s okay. Shh.”

Shouyou’s shoulders heave and his sobs are loud. Tobio has always known what to do–or, rather, he’s learned what to do over the years he’s known Shouyou–but this time is different. Usually Shouyou calms down once Tobio has spoken to him, or held him, but this time is different. Usually it doesn’t take more than reassurance and rest and comfort before Shouyou can settle, but this time is different. Shouyou’s cries are so broken and he’s shaking, trembling, but ‘shaking’ doesn’t seem like enough to describe the heaving lurch of his shoulders and the gutted wrench of his sobs.

Tobio clings to him, buries his nose into his hair, rubs his back. “Shouyou, please, please calm down. It’s okay. Whatever’s wrong, I promise it’s okay, just–please, breathe. Please. You’re–You’re scaring me, just, please–”

Their relationship is hugely built on their bluntness toward each other, how neither of them are afraid to say what they really think about this that and the other, but that particular choice of words in this particular situation was, in hindsight, probably not the best thing to say. Even if it was true.

But it does seem to bring Shouyou back just a little, and he gasps so harshly that he chokes on that, and coughs, and Tobio’s heart seizes as he holds him closer.

“Are you sick?” It’s the next thing that comes to Tobio’s mind, and a lot more fixable of an issue. “We have medicine, it’s okay–” He doesn’t have a fever, though. “Are you hurt? What’s hurting you? What happened?”

Shouyou sobs again, though he’s leaning the side of his head into Tobio’s chest now instead of smothering his face into it. “N-Not m-me, I–”

“Did something happen to your coworker?” His mind flatlines. “Is his sister okay? Are they–”

“You.”

His voice is so broken. Tobio’s tongue is too thick for his mouth.

“I–Shou, I don’t–”

“Y-You were–Tobio, Tobio, you were hit by a c-car, T-Tobio–”

It breaks him further and he buries his face into Tobio’s shirt again, and Tobio holds him, and suddenly everything makes just a little more sense.

“I-I don’t know why it happened,” Shouyou whimpers, voice too high and too rasped. “I-I don’t think about it happening, I-I’ve never–I’ve never worried about it, I don’t know why I–why would I think something like–a-and, and there was blood, wh-why would–”

Tobio’s stomach is in his throat and he holds Shouyou just as tight as ever, gently brushing the tears from his face and not caring that they’re replaced faster than he can chase away.

“Brains are shit sometimes,” Tobio says, which isn’t the most sensitive thing to say right now, probably, but it feels right and they know each other well enough. “They’re just–shit, they really are just shit. I’m sorry. But I’m here, okay? It didn’t happen.”

“I know it didn’t,” Shouyou strains, “I know it didn’t, wh-which–which is why this is stupid. It doesn’t make any s-sense, T-Tobio, why would I dream something like that? I-It was so–” He gasps, and lets it go shudderingly. “It was s-so horrible, wh-why–why would that happen? A-And why am I so upset about it when it didn’t really happen?”

“Because it happened to you,” Tobio breathes, somewhat calmer now that he knows what’s wrong. He still doesn’t know how to fix it, but, he’s working on that. “Even if it was just a dream, you still had to go through it. It’s not stupid to be upset about it, or to cry over it, or anything like that. You still had to experience it either way. I’m sorry.”

“B-But–But it’s pointless–”

“Shou, listen to me.” Shouyou stills, quiets, and Tobio draws a deep breath. When he lets it out, he curls himself further into Shouyou, burying his face into his messy hair and breathing in his warmth. Shouyou squirms until he can adjust, and then he melts into Tobio just as much. Tobio waits until his heartrate has slowed, until he’s breathing more than he is crying.

“Remember when we were in high school,” Tobio says softly. “We were playing a match with that visiting team–hell, I don’t even remember their names. You went in as a decoy, like you always did. Do. And when you landed–”

It happened years ago, but the memories are still somehow fresh. He’s lucky Shouyou already understands and he doesn’t have to go on.

“I had nightmares about that, too. Sometimes. Or, not even about the event itself, just… what could have come out of it. Or what could happen in the future. Or what could have happened in the past. Sometimes I still have them.”

Shouyou’s fingers twist into his shirt. “Tobio…”

“They aren’t fair,” Tobio says. “They suck, they mess with your head and send your emotions out of whack, but they are not stupid. We’ve just gotta deal with them as they come and not brush them off. Alright?” He smooths Shouyou’s hair down, from the crown of his head to the nape of his neck. “We’re fine.”

Shouyou sniffs and curls against him, knees tucked into his chest and stray, final tears wiped away by Tobio’s thumb and soaking into his shirt. Shouyou doesn’t calm down quickly, but he does calm down eventually, and Tobio feels his drawn muscles slacken against him.

“T-Tobio?”

“Yeah?”

“I love you.”

Tobio inhales, exhales, and draws him closer. “Yeah. I love you too.”

It isn’t much, but it’s enough for now, and they don’t let each other go.

#sorry this took so long i havent been feeling great lately #i hope you all like it!#id love to hear what you think itd make my day #ily all!#cloud writes #haikyuu!!#hq #fanfic #fanfiction #kagehina #queerplatonic kagehina #queerplatonic relationships #prompt fill #qpr kagehina #hinata shouyou #kageyama tobio

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phantomchick · 4 years

Text

My wip list

Writing out my list of works in progress in the hopes that it becomes more manageable and easier to decide which to work on after I do.

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Call Me Fandom: dc comics / batfandom Summary: Jason calls Bruce for help after being assaulted, they deal with the aftermath both in the revenge way and the hurt/comfort way. Amount of work necessary to complete: ??? It’s a two parter fic so only one chapter left to go, however serious writer’s block to work through on this second part so who actually knows.

I tell myself that I don't need Anyone (But the truth is no one needs Me) Fandom: dc comics / batfandom Summary: The scene in UTRH where Bruce throws a Batarang into Jason’s throat is bullshit especially because there’s never any consequences for it, that’s not just bullshit, it’s batshit! And I refuse to accept it. A What if Jason didn’t disappear into the night after the events of UTRH to arrange for his next villain appearance, fix it fic. Amount of work necessary to complete: Likely going to be one of my longest fics yet, a multi chapter whopper! Which means a lot of work, both in research and in writing. I need to read up on ALL of the modern captain atom comics, a bunch of the crisis event chemo Bludhaven comics and maybe a couple of other ancillary comics of that era too, before I even get to writing the nitty gritty of the fic. We’re doing this canon and we’re doing it right! A fixing-everything motivated fic putting the canon divergence back into fandom.

The Many Curses of The Wayne Name / Of Curses and Covenants Fandom: dc comics/batfandom Summary: So much of a work in progress the official title’s still not completely decided! A fic delving into the relationship between the Wayne Family and the Zatara family, told through a series of curses various generations of the Waynes have been afflicted with over the years, some of these curses the Zataras were able to remove and some they couldn’t. Currently intend to have it end with Zatanna and her nephew Zach coming to dinner with Bruce and his kids. Amount of work necessary to complete: I already have an index of curses and which Waynes in the chronology get cursed where, ready to build with. But the series itself is still more a couple of lines and potential scenarios than any actual fic. Not sure how many stories I’ll end up telling here so unsure of how much work it’ll be to complete, likely a lot to get it off the ground though.

The Monster In The Man Fandom: Merlin, (bbc) Merlin, Summary: A continuation to CaffeinatedFlumadiddle's fic The Monster in the Mirror that ended on a horror-esque cliffhanger - written because my brain couldn’t handle the cliffhanger and had to extrapolate with a part two. Intended as a gift fic to that author. Basically the spell from an enchanted mirror has escaped and possessed Merlin, and is attempting to use Merlin’s worst fears against him until he kills Arthur. Can Arthur who has only just found out about Merlin’s magic save Merlin from what’s inside him? Amount of work necessary to complete: Currently at a little over 5000 words but likely to need at least another 5000 to both get to the main action and resolve things.

Those Winter Sundays Fandom: Marvel, Avengers, Iron Man Summary: Snapshots of Tony working hard for the avengers and no one noticing. Amount of work necessary to complete: Unknown as currently more of a wip idea than a wip itself, likely going to be a oneshot containing a bunch of ficlets.

Truth is Treason in the Empire of Lies Fandom: Marvel, Avengers, Thor Summary: Thor tells the story of his banishment and return to Asgard ending with Loki falling into the Void and the Avengers have some questions, questions Thor had not thought of, remarks on things that Thor doesn't know how to explain. He goes to Loki's cell and asks him some things becoming more and more angry despite having no one he can punch. Gets drunk and criticises Sif and The Warriors Three. Focus on Loki still being underage by Aesir standards during Thor 1. “For while the Treason I detest, the Traitor I love still.” Amount of work necessary to complete: Either a oneshot or a two chapter fic. Need to be careful to ‘show not tell’ considering the plot I’m going with is gonna have a lot of talking about things that have already happened.

A Trinity of Head Wounds Fandom: DC Comics, Justice League Summary: Friendship fic, angst and hurt/comfort Clark yells at a concussed Bruce for being reckless and because Bruce is concussed he ends up accidentally making the slightly addled Bruce cry. When Clark notices he shuts his mouth so fast he could've crunched titanium between his teeth. Diana walks in, sees Bruce in tears and PUNCHES CLARK ACROSS THE ROOM WITHOUT HESITATION. After that there’s a lot hurt/comfort on all sides and Clark opens up about his anxiety over Bruce’s mortality and Diana bleeds on Bruce’s shoulder. Amount of work necessary to complete: It’s a oneshot but it’s one of those difficult ones where you’ve got to get everything just right or the emotional intent gets totally lost so a big ??? for this one too.

Separation Fandom: DC Comics, UTRH Summary: Split personality disorderRed Hood and Jason Todd, alternatively, Red Hood is a demon/parasite latched on to Jay. Amount of work necessary to complete: A lot considering it’s currently just an idea.

A Stark in The Stars Fandom: Marvel, Avengers, Iron Man Summary: Tony’s survived the universe wide disaster known as the snap or the decimation and has even survived carrying out it’s reversal, but he’d much rather help Thor, Carol and the Guardians sort out intergalactic repair efforts than face the damage Steve has accidentally done to time itself back on Earth. He keeps forgetting the differences between what happened in the fake timeline and the original one the longer he’s on Earth and though he knows Stephen Strange is doing all he can to fix it, he also knows that the changes for him are a lot more confusing and disconcerting than they are for the others (Save for poor Sharon Carter). Pepper understands better than anyone and actually packed his bag for him (with Morgan’s help) when he tried to explain what he was feeling. Maybe the little settlement on that mineral loaded planet he keeps visiting on behalf of the dwarves can help him find what he needs to get past this. Amount of work necessary to complete: This is a slower more thoughtful work about learning how to live when you never thought you’d survive and the sense of alienation you can get as a veteran returning to a world that isn’t the way you expected it to be when you got home. As such, it’s very introspective, so I want to take my time with it but realistically it’s likely to be a series of vignettes from both Tony’s perspective and the perspective of the people he encounters out in his travels through the galaxies. Max 5 chapters.

Another Time, Another Place Fandom: dc comics / Batfandom Summary: Martha and Thomas Wayne are sent 20 years into the future only to see a young man they've never met standing in their drawing room. He claims to be their grandson. I just love the idea of Jason being left in the house with Damian and Duke with Bruce, Tim and Dick gone and he's the eldest so he's gotta look after the situation Amount of work necessary to complete: However long it takes me to get past the writer’s block for the ending - I have most of a plot outline ready to write based on, except for how I’m going to resolve things. A oneshot with the possibility of an epilogue chapter to follow.

Vicki Finds A Bat Fandom: dc comics / Batfandom Summary: Vicki Vale sees Jason Todd sitting in a wafflehouse. Chaos ensues. Amount of work necessary to complete: Currently a little over 2000 words, probably gonna need an extra 2000 before it’s done.

You Don't Know Anything Fandom: dc comics / Batfandom Summary: Gift fic for paradise_runaway. One where the other Bat boys find out the circumstances of Jason's death and resurrection and their reaction. Amount of work necessary to complete: Started and restarted multiple times, can’t decide which route to take with it. It’s just a oneshot so once I get some inspiration to hit for it, it’ll probably be done pretty quick.

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#wip list #writing is hard #i have more wips besides these #but these are the ones I'm focusing on #i promise i don't hate steve rogers but the ending of endgame with old man steve was terrifying when you think about it #the implications!!!!#my wips #so many wips #covers gen abo ficlet wip with my whole body #you saw nothing

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galacticvampirisms · 5 years

Text

So @hkasof‘s amazing art inspired the start of this fic. I’ve still not reached the actual thing I set out to write about because I’m extra af and wanted to sketch in some backstory. And also include this little bit because it’s v meaningful to me.

I’m still gonna be writing a lot (but it’s all scattered. I literally laid down and instead of working on zine layouts spent an hour writing another 1500 words of this “ficlet” wtf). I don’t know. This art is inspiring. This pairing is inspiring. I’m drowning in inspiration and I can’t get up.

Also since Haley missed the time I just quietly reblogged it, hopefully @’ng will make sure it reaches your notes. I bolded the first sentence of the new stuff so you can find your place!

Matsuo wasn’t good with people. Even at Claw, he’d preferred to keep to himself. The other espers considered him odd because he liked being with his spirits more than people, but they didn’t get it.

While Sakurai wore his curse like a badge of honor, Matsuo preferred to keep his Tragic Backstory ™ under lock and key. After all, it wasn’t as though he would be very accepted if he did open up to the others. He was certain of this, even after a group of middle schoolers and their weird guardian destroyed the 7th Division headquarters.

Unfortunately, this meant Matsuo wasn’t really sure what to do with his life without Claw.

Retail? He dropped a vial containing a new pet and found himself fired for the amount of damage she had caused while he tried to coax her back into a better jar, much more cozy for her ballooning body. Not that the manager could see her of course. He just saw the destruction like a tornado after leaving Matsuo alone for twenty minutes.

Factory work? Much of the packaging was too monotonous or would strain his health after a couple weeks working odd, long shifts.

Finally, he chose to work as a regular psychic, specializing in exorcisms. It was hard. He had to be polite to customers, even when they abused or misgendered him or made fun of his style. And then he got the call, like nearly every other psychic in the region.

Asagiri mansion.

There had been so many people at the mansion, it was easy to hide from the loud and talkative Reigen and his strange student. Matsuo watched the rogue ghost wreck havoc of the legitimate and false espers alike, feeling a familiar warmth spread through his body. That ghost was powerful. He wanted it.

And… he got it. Mogami Keiji, a formerly powerful esper that had eaten so many evil spirits that even being exorcised hadn’t drained the spirit’s powers completely. Mogami was kept in a canister at first, the stickers imbued with Matsuo’s containing aura gradually layering on so thick it was impossible to see the original object.

Mogami’s negative energy kept corroding the layers, and sometimes Matsuo thought he could hear Mogami speak. Not like how the other spirits spoke to him, unintelligible to other people not so closely attuned to the dead. See, ghosts degraded after awhile, metamorphizing into animalistic beasts – beasts that Matsuo could understand and befriend (or control, if they were especially unhelpful). But Mogami wasn’t a beast.

No, he was something else.

“Pudding-chan, won’t you play nice today?” Matsuo spoke to the poison jar softly, picking it up to carry with him as he prepared for the day. He didn’t like leaving his more dangerous spirits unattended, and the weight of the jar was a comfort, grounding him in the moment. The stickers looked less absurd next to the mess of magnets that he collected on his fridge. “We’ve a couple of clients today looking for…” The emails were all on his phone, and he checked it, positive mood immediately dropping. “Oh, fantastic. They’re wanting an escort for a spirit walk. How exciting.”

The jar didn’t move or make any sign that the spirit inside was listening. Still, Matsuo continued on, by now quite used to talking aloud to ease the silence when one of his pets wasn’t out. “You think it’d be easy after dealing with all the low-ranking members of Claw at the base. It’s not. At least they left me alone. These are, ugh, young adults. They’re going to want to talk to me. Have potentially meaningful conversation.” Ignoring the fact that Matsuo himself could be considered a young adult. Under thirty-five at the very least. He set about making breakfast, sucking the spoon he used to scoop jam onto toast as a self-soothing measure. “The pay is barely worth it.”

Rent, bills, things he wasn’t used to after living at the 7th Division base. But now he had an apartment, a small one, but big enough for his books and pets and himself. And Mogami, Pudding-chan, the pet that steadily corroded the stickers keeping him contained. “Are you hungry Pudding-chan? Maybe we’ll find something for you while we’re out.” Mogami was a picky eater after all, and harder still to keep contained when giving him an evil spirit to devour.

It was a quiet existence, lonely in some ways, but Matsuo was alive. Living more respectably, in his own little apartment looking out over Seasoning City and avoiding trouble. All of Claw knew eventually what would happen, figured they’d be bulldozed by their former boss, the one who had given them their scars to begin with. But Matsuo maybe foolishly hoped that he’d be left well enough alone. Just live his life with his spirits like a person might with their cats.

As if.

He saw the television takeover like most people did, but unlike the social media chatter that thought it a joke, Matsuo panicked. Immediately, he gathered his most powerful spirits, Mogami included, leaving his apartment for what might be the last time.

But Seasoning City had been shut down. No one in, no one out. It was Suzuki’s plan to force his hometown to witness its destruction.

Honestly, what happened to Matsuo before running into Mob and Minegishi isn’t terribly important to this story. He hid, he protected himself from Claw lackeys hunting down espers, questioning how they were suddenly so powerful, and he managed to keep a lid on Mogami’s jar to the very end. Until he didn’t.

And we know what happened there.

Matsuo ran from the destruction, following Mogami’s trail to the edge of the city, where they were both still trapped by Claw’s intense barrier. “Pudding-chan! What happened? Why didn’t you destroy Minegishi?” The spirit seemed focused on the barrier, ignoring the esper below. “Pudding-chan… Pudding-chan!” There was a brief pause before Matsuo changed tactics. “Mogami-san?”

“Mm?” Mogami looked down at Matsuo, frowning. Well, frowning more. It had been much longer than his death since he had smiled properly. “Oh, it’s you. You’re the one who trapped me in a jar.”

“Well,” Matsuo started slowly, only a little put off by the negativity Mogami exuded. “I also fed you. And kept you from disappearing.”

“And talked incessantly about anything that popped into your head.”

Matsuo was only slightly offended by that. “Well, you weren’t exactly a conversationalist.”

Mogami looked at Matsuo for a moment longer. “I was in a jar.” He turned back to the barrier.

“Okay… you have a point. What are you doing anyway?”

“Trying to get out. That boy seems to be learning. I don’t need to be here.” The spirit pushed against the barrier, getting repelled immediately with a fierce red aura Matsuo recognized immediately. He reached out, pulling Mogami back. “Hey!” Mogami turned to the esper in anger, but the genuine concern wiped whatever the spirit was about to say from his mind.

“Don’t do that; it’ll exorcise you before you can get through.”

“Why do you care?”

“Because you’re my friend Mogami-san.”

There was silence then, marked only by the sound of air moving, maybe a bird or the distant sound of a TV. There is no true silence in the world anymore, especially not in cities, even cities that were under threat of destruction. But between esper and ghost, former(?) evil spirit and former evil organizational leader, there was a moment of the truest silence to be found. Matsuo released Mogami from his hold, but the spirit didn’t move.

“You realize you say that so casually to someone who has done many evil things,” Mogami finally said, breaking their moment. “Not everything I think I care to regret.”

“I’ve done evil things too… and I don’t think I can regret all of them either.”

Mogami floated closer. “The boy seemed to know you.”

Matsuo let him approach, unafraid. “He definitely knew you.”

“He… taught me that perhaps the world isn’t so dark as I once thought.”

Matsuo nodded in agreement. “His master showed me how to grow up.”

“Grow up? You still eat sugared cereal.” There was a comfortableness in Mogami’s voice now, as he floated to be just taller than Matsuo, though his feet were well off the ground. Matsuo shifted, folding his arms across his chest and trying to stand taller.

“And just what’s so wrong with that? Adults eat sugar all the time.”

“It’s just… cute.” Matsuo blushed and looked away, back towards where they had left. “What are you going to do Matsuo?”

“I don’t know. If anyone can beat Suzuki, it’s that boy. He and his master could probably talk sense into a rock if they chose.”

“No, I mean. Afterwards. Will you keep being a psychic for hire?”

Matsuo made a face. “It’s the only thing I’m good at. But what about you? What are you going to do?”

“…I don’t know. I don’t regret many of the things I did, but it’s pointless to continue the way I was with people like him out there.” Mogami turned to the barrier again. “Maybe I should be exorcised. It’s what he and you were originally told to do by that rich idiot.”

Matsuo reached out, grabbing Mogami again, this time physically, a hand holding onto the spirit’s jacket. “Wait. Why not stay with me?”

“You don’t know the things I’ve done,” Mogami repeated. “There’s no telling how I’ll act.”

“You don’t know what I’ve done either,” Matsuo argued, holding tighter though Mogami hadn’t moved. “But just because we’ve got our burdens to carry doesn’t mean we have to do it alone.”

Mogami’s empty sockets stared into Matsuo’s own determined gaze, shifting subtly to take in his scar, his hair, his clothes. Then back to his face before Mogami let out a sigh, sinking closer to the esper’s level. “This means the jar again?”

“No… no I think I trust you to stay out.”

“You just want to talk my ear off about your new sports rules.”

Matsuo laughed. “It would be nice if you talked back.” He started to walk, away from the barrier and the edge of the city, towards his, their apartment.

“I always talked back. Your jar just wouldn’t let you hear.” Mogami was following close beside Matsuo, equals in starting a new chapter in both their lives.

#mob psycho 100 #matsugami #matsuo #mogami keiji #let's just tag this out properly since it looks like it could end here #it won't but it could #god haley your art is so good #i stumbled into your art around the time i was playing with textures and it makes me feel validated to see something so cute be loved by so #many #lol that tag got long there

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likeshipsonthesea · 6 years

Note

48, 95 for the mash up

48. Fake Dating AU & 95. Sleep Intimacy

okay i have like at least two bed-sharing nurseydex fics (this ficlet and this longer one) (haha shameless self promotion) but i have no fake dating aus (i started one once but it was ugh) soooo let’s do this

it’s a few years after samwell. nursey and dex are living in an apartment together in nyc. dex is working at a tech company and bringing in the dough while nursey has published his first book and is working on a collection of short stories when, unexpectedly, nursey gets a wedding invitation in the mail.

dex is typing at his computer– emailing with ransom about their fantasy hockey league– when he hears nursey groan “fucking snake!” dex peers over at the invitation in nursey’s hands and frowns.

“what’s wrong with a wedding invitation?” living with nursey for going on five years– fuck has it been five years living with the man he is nonreciprocating in love with?? dex is hopeless– has helped dex learn a few of nursey’s weirder quirks (nursey 2 am showers, how he sings while he makes sandwiches, The Sock Thing) but the cursing at wedding invitations is completely foreign

“it’s my ex-boyfriend’s wedding,” nursey says, flicking the invitation across the floor. the glitter-confetti that was contained inside the envelope goes everywhere. dex can feel an aneurysm coming on.

“he’s probably just trying to be nice,” dex says, quickly resigning himself to living with glitter forever.

“things didn’t end well.” nursey sighs, collapsing across the table dramatically. dex only nearly saves his laptop from being crushed. “he was kind of a dick. fuck, i have to go.”

“why go if he’s a dick?”

“because,” nursey says, as if dex is dense, which after seven years dex knows is just how nursey talks and not because he’s actually a condescending dickface, “if i don’t go, he’ll win.”

dex doesn’t pretend to understand nursey’s social world. rich people are so weird. “then go,” he says, and continues his email to ransom with the very impressive argument on why he deserves to have chowder on his team.

“i can’t go!” nursey says. dex doesn’t look up from his screen. nursey’s ridiculousness makes great background noise. “if i go without a date he’ll still win!”

“then take a date,” dex says, frowning as he rereads the wording of a sentence. things are silent for a minute– red flag red flag– and when he looks up nursey is grinning widely at him.

(y’all know where this is going, right?)

“no,” dex says, in that moment, and ignores nursey’s pouting face. “why would you even want to bring me as your date?” dex says, the next day, when nursey argues why dex should do it. “how would bringing me even make you the winner?” dex responds, a week later, when nursey makes him breakfast in bed to sweeten the deal. “WHAT THE FUCK” dex says when nursey accosts him in the shower.

“dex come on. it’s a destination wedding, i’ll pay for everything, we can get drunk for free all weekend, and i need youuuuu.” nursey pouts, fluttering his eyelashes. “if i show up with a guy like you, todd will totally be the loser.”

“todd, really?”

“i was in high school, i had no taste.”

dex stares at him, shampoo slowly trailing down the side of his face. maybe it’s because nursey looks so pathetic, maybe it’s because his compliment makes dex as butterfly-y inside, maybe it’s because dex is hopelessly in love with him. whatever.

“if i say yes, can i finish my shower in peace?”

nursey grins. “i love you, poindorkster!”

nursey leaves the bathroom, whistling to himself. dex knows he’s going to regret this, but at least he can rinse his hair out now.

four months later, dex is regretting every choice he’s ever made that led him to this point, including going to samwell and deciding to play hockey in the second grade.

“nursey,” dex says, feeling the vein in his neck bulge. “why is there only one bed?”

(the wedding is in some snowy wood somewhere, with lots of trees and a series of personal cabins for all the guests. nursey and dex’s is fairly far away from where they had to park, which is going to suck because it’s supposed to snow tomorrow. the cabin is full of dark woods and soft blankets and warm, earthy smells, and dex is sure he’d enjoy it a lot if he didn’t have to share a bed with the unrequited love of his life.)

“todd totally would’ve found us out if we got a double,” nursey says, unconcerned. dex watches him unpack with a barely concealed rage.

dex only kind of debates taking the car and leaving before resigning himself to his death, and sighs as he begins to unpack too.

one wedding montage later, full of alcohol and making fun of todd’s cravat and eating as many of the hor d’oeuvres as they can and pretending (pretending dex reminds himself) to be more in love than even the happy couple. they leave early, stealing a bottle of champagne and a full plate of cake, and they stumble their way back to their cabin. by the time they get here, their toes and fingers and noses as cold and dusted with snow, so they get under the blankets to eat their feast

they eventually fall asleep, almost warm and bellies full, and dex thinks, before he passes out, that he could be happy with this for the rest of his life. just this.

in the morning, dex wakes up with his arms full of nursey. nursey is shirtless, all of his warm skin pressed against dex’s chest and forearm, mouth hot and wet where he breathes against dex’s neck. dex, for some reason, wrapped his arm around nursey’s back as they slept, and he can feel nursey’s arm (the one that isn’t clinging to the material of dex’s shirt) underneath him, like a hug.

dex loses his breath instantly, staring at nursey’s face, slack with sleep and so close to his own, and swallows hard. without thinking about it, his thumb begins to brush at nursey’s shoulder, his arm tugging nursey in just a bit closer.

god. this– dex has been in love with nursey for so long, he doesn’t– he’s taught himself how to control it, how not to be too in love, too obsessed. part of that was keeping himself from these kinds of situations. part of that was not giving himself the chance.

and now here he is, everything he wants in life right at his fingertips (literally) and all he can feel is a giant, consuming ache at the thought that none of it is real.

(it is real, the desperate voice in his head says, remember? we’re friends and that’s enough, stop wanting more, why can’t you ever be happy with what you have?)

in the middle of dex’s crisis, nursey wakes up. dex doesn’t notice. nursey watches the emotions– devastation and want and heartbreak– play across dex’s familiar features, the one nursey has been staring at from across their apartment, their shared room, the ice, so many years he’s lost count.

nursey never crossed the gap. out of fear maybe, or maybe he just didn’t think it was the right time. when was the right time to start the rest of your life? nursey was a kid. he didn’t know how to hold forever in his hands without breaking it.

now, well. now he’s 25, doing what he loves and making money at it, coming home to his adorable computer hobbit who cooks him dinner and listens to his midnight ramblings and lets him read his poetry out loud and has thoughts about it. dex, with his shining eyes and kind touch and beautiful, consuming laugh.

forever is a long time, but nursey wouldn’t mind living in this moment for the rest of his life.

“dex,” nursey says, and dex’s panicked eyes focus on him. nursey tilts his head up until their lips brush. he feels dex’s sharp inhale against his own mouth before closing the kiss completely.

outside, snow falls, todd complains to his new husband about “derek nurse and that boyfriend of his”, and time moves on.

inside, under the warm blankets, curled around the softness of a promise, nursey and dex pause, patient, on the edge of a lifetime, simply enjoying the moment.

#nurseydex #dexnursey #check please #dex #william poindexter #nursey #derek nurse #my writing #sort of fic #ficlet #i like this one #fluff #angst #but mostly fluff

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pain-in-the-asguardian · 5 years

Text

Wolf in Sheep’s Clothing

Wrote this on my Crowley blog but putting it here too cause I can. Have a ficlet thing.

He didn’t remember it being this… cold. Sterile. Soulless. This was Heaven? These were the sort of beings that Aziraphale had been forced to deal with all these millennia? These were the ones he’d once called siblings? Oh, how high and mighty they thought themselves! And to think that he’d used that term to describe a petulant Aziraphale! Crowley glared out of blue eyes that were not his own. The venom in his gaze didn’t befit the angel whose guise he wore, the fleece that hid the wolf beneath, but he knew, he knew, they wouldn’t notice it. They didn’t pay enough attention to the angel to see that anything was off. They didn’t know a blessed thing about Aziraphale, and weren’t about to start now. Why would they? Soon they’d be rid of him for good.

Or so they thought.

It took all his restraint to not hiss at his captors as they dragged him along, under no pretense of care for his person. The hallway stretched on. It was amazing, how suffocating this place felt, even if the sparkling perfect halls were empty. He couldn’t help the snarl that curled his lip, nose wrinkling in disdain. Hell stunk. Like sulphur, and choking smoke, and the unwashed masses. It was dark, and crowded, and disgusting, but Crowley could see Heaven wasn’t much better, just the opposite sort of oppressing. It was open, yes, but empty.Terrifyingly so. And it stunk too, that unnerving antiseptic smell like one found in hospitals, to cover up the unpleasantness that everyone knew was there. It burned his nostrils, and he hated it. The smell, the gleaming hallways. It was fake. At least Hell didn’t hide what it was.

He was shoved into a chair and bound. Real creative, that. Not even a decent chair, one of those wheeled uncomfortable things found growing in cubicles across the world. He flashed Gabriel a tight, humorless grin, though the urge to shift and sink his fangs into that hand was strong. No, he was trusted to play this part. If all went as they’d discussed, then they could be free. At least for a century or two.

“You could have just sent a message.” At least he’d had ages of feigning a casual tone. Gabriel was clearly proud of himself. Pride, wasn’t that a deadly sin? He did grin, if only for a second.

And I bet you didn’t see this one coming?

Crowley scoffed internally. Yes, if my mind was as dull as yours, then I suppose the obvious path is a stroke of absolute genius. Did Gabriel really think his little idea was so clever? The look on the Archangel’s face said yes. Aw, they had even invited one of the lesser demons to come topside. How sweet. No doubt that was all they could get, all of the higher ups wanted to be present for his own extinction. Apparently Aziraphale didn’t even warrant that honor, Michael themself was joining the demon Crowley’s farewell party. Shame, and this one was so flashy! He had to admit, the fire tornado was eye-catching. At least it added some color and warmth to the place.

What surprised him, more than the cold glares of the three gathered, more than the haughty dismissal of his words, was that this was it. Gabriel said they were meant to make examples out of traitors. But there was no one around to see this. Hell would be making a show of it. There were always souls wandering around, it was impossible to escape them. But Heaven? There were no lesser angels or ascended souls gathered. Perhaps they were broadcasting it somehow, but Crowley had a sneaking suspicion that they weren’t. That this was it.

No trial, no audience, no chance to explain himself to the Almighty. They weren’t making an example of Aziraphale for The Greater Good, they were doing it for themselves. To think that the angel had been hellbent on keeping up appearances for this lot for more than 6000 years. At least now he understood why Aziraphale saying there will be paperwork was such a terrible thing. Paperwork and having to be talked at by these beings.

“Well, lovely knowing you all. May we meet on a better occasion.” Oh, that hurt. There were so many other choice words he’d love to hurl at them, but for Aziraphale’s sake Crowley held his forked tongue. He had to get through this, and he knew in this moment that he would do everything in his power to ensure that his angel never had to set foot in this place again.

They didn’t deserve him.

“Shut your stupid mouth and die already.”

Oh, he nearly broke at that. Crowley was not a fighter. He never was. He was a creator, and because of that the Great War had left him broken. But now he had an inkling of what a warrior’s soul felt like, something burning in his chest brighter than the pillar of Hellfire roaring in front of him. No one, no one not even the Archangel-Fucking-Gabriel, could speak to his angel like that. Oh, how he wanted to drive his fist into that idiotic grin. Weren’t angels supposed to be all about love? Whatever happened to that? Another sham. This whole place was. And that was why, instead of striking, he smiled again. Lacking humor, and lasting only a proverbial heartbeat. Because this place was a sham, and he was going to get Aziraphale the hell out of it once and for all. And that was more important than breaking every last one of an Archangel’s perfect teeth.

He noted that they least they had the sense to look mildly uncomfortable as he stepped into the firestorm. He derived little satisfaction from it, too little too late. It would have been no consolation to Aziraphale, had he actually been the victim. Fortunately he’d had a demon to take his place. At least now Crowley was warm again, the chill of the wide-open hall had been getting to him. He did feel a smug sort of satisfaction when they jumped back from the flames he breathed at them. Shame no one got singed, and really a shame he couldn’t film it.

It was almost as if they didn’t see this coming.

And then it was over. The Archangels were stunned, their tiny minds unable to comprehend that the angel they’d attempted to immolate was still cheerfully standing before them. Every ounce of malicious glee had been wiped from their faces, and they were practically tripping over each other in an effort to show him the door as quickly as angelically possible. No apologies or even excuses, just the pearly gates hastily slammed in his innocently grinning face.

Flames of rage still burned in Crowley’s chest, but for now he could contain them. It was over. He allowed himself a crooked smirk. It had worked. They were free. He was certain, somehow, that Aziraphale had succeeded too. Just a feeling, deep in his chest, that told him everything was going to be all right.

Rolling his shoulders, he straightened the tartan bow tie at his neck, and for the second time in his existence Anthony J Crowley sauntered vaguely downward, to where his angel would be waiting.

#Good Omens #Crowley #Pita Writes

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